Chapter Text
May first.
It’s the date that’s been lurking at the back of his mind for two weeks since he had that call. That call. Always there, always on his mind no matter what he was doing, shrouded deep in fear and excitement.
May first.
God, just the thought of that date made his heart thud in his ears.
May first. May first. May first.
He didn’t know it years ago, back when he started this journey. After all those small, insignificant May firsts that came before this one, he had no idea that was the date that would change his life forever.
Today was the May first.
Today was Hinata Shouyou’s first day at academy.
It was a culmination of every failed audition, every exhausted dance lesson, every long language course, and every class he slept through in high school. Today, all of his hard work paid off.
Today, he was finally, finally starting his career as a Korean pop idol.
Well, sort of.
Technically, he was starting training to finally start his career as a Korean pop idol.
Which Shouyou sort of thought was splitting hairs.
As far as he was concerned, his career started today.
And it was this mindset that carried him through the heavy sliding doors of Furudate Training Academy.
Knowing the big names that came out of this school, that walked these very halls, sent zips of adrenalin through his body. As he entered the bustling reception area, he was immediately drawn to the Wall of Fame to his right like a moth to flame. Wide, starry eyes ticked over each frame—he was able to recognize most of the groups in the pictures. He walked slow along the wall, appreciating each prestigious magazine cover that donned groups of famous, successful pop idols, until he stopped in front of what looked to be the latest addition to the wall.
Seijoh.
The members of the group framed the group’s Center, and Oikawa Tooru’s sparkly smile beamed at him from the page. Envy and adoration wove through Shouyou’s heart.
In pop groups, the Center was, generally, the fan favorite. They were the best dancer, or best singer, or sometimes just the best-looking person. They were the person the audience’s eyes were on, be it during performances, photo shoots, music videos—anything the group did, the Center was in the middle of it all.
It had always been his dream to become Center.
His desire for it was nearly tangible, almost a presence of its own in this reception room.
Determination leveled his eyes.
Here at Furudate, these walls have witnessed incredible things—people rising to unimaginable fame and wealth, people chasing their dreams to do what few could do.
And couldn’t wait for them to witness his own rise to Center.
He could feel it in his bones.
Nothing was going to get in his—
Someone jostled his shoulder, hard enough to make him stumble to the side. He scrunched his face up.
“Hey!” He called to the retreating figure. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The guy didn’t respond, just continuing on his way like running into Shouyou was nothing, and then Shouyou realized his mistake. You are in Korea now, stupid. Mentally facepalming, he called out in perfect Korean, “Excuse me? Where do you think you’re going?”
Unfortunately, this proved fruitless as well, and the dickhole guy turned around a corner, not acknowledging Shouyou at all.
Alright. Fine.
Shouyou drew himself up and turned back to the wall, to study Oikawa’s perfect smile a moment longer, to manifest his own destiny just a little bit—
“Excuse me?”
“Wah!” Shouyou spun, ready to fight that douche that ran into him, but instead he was now face-to-face with a pretty girl, one with a birthmark and pink-framed glasses. She didn’t flinch at Shouyou’s attack stance even slightly.
“Are you checking in?”
“Oh! Uh—” Shouyou dropped his hands from his karate pose to fish a crinkled page from his back pocket. He handed it to her. “Yes! My name is Hinata Shouyou, and today is my first day at Furudate Training Academy. I auditioned and auditioned, and then two weeks ago, I was accepted into—”
“Karasuno,” she supplied, looking up from the piece of paper, interrupting his spiel.
Shouyou nodded enthusiastically. “That’s the one!”
She lifted her face from the page and appraised him for a moment.
“You’ll fit right in,” she said, a smile in her eyes. “Come, let’s get you checked in.”
When she turned around, Shouyou punched the air and danced a little jig before following her to the front desk.
Today, his journey began.
≠
Kiyoko—that was her name, he learned—gave him his ID badge, room key, and a tour of the place. It was even more amazing than he was expecting—not only did they have practice rooms and university-level courses with world-renowned coaches and teachers, but they also had vending machines! And a pool! And free wifi! Even though they weren’t allowed social media. And buses! Even though the places they were allowed and the times they could leave were controlled by the company.
Regardless, Shouyou was on Cloud Nine.
Which kept him afloat until roughly hour four of orientation meetings.
There was so much to do. After his initial orientation with Kiyoko, he met with his team’s managers for all of his skill assessments: vocal, dance, rap, variety. He was acquainted with a class counselor, who helped him set up a class schedule, effective immediately. He became intimately familiar with one of the academy nurses for his initial height, weight, and body measurements. He met with a nutritionist to discuss his weight goals, a personal trainer to make an exercise plan, a dermatologist to assess his current skincare routine, and then a subsequent appointment with one of the staff estheticians when he couldn’t answer all of the dermatologist’s questions to establish a baseline. Then, he had to meet with Kiyoko again for his final orientation review where she went over all of their class schedules, training schedules, and academy rules again.
When he was finally free, it was roughly ten at night. Shouyou was exhausted. The blur of planning and assessments and measurements and general orienting, combined with the nerves and adrenalin of his very first day as an idol, sapped his energy completely. Shouyou dragged himself to his room—the one Kiyoko showed him during orientation. Room 910. He was told he had a roommate—that everyone did, but he didn’t get to meet them earlier. Distantly, he wondered if his roommate’s first impression of him would be this half-dead husk he just heaved down the hall.
He hoped not.
When he opened his door, he was grateful to see the room was still empty.
Shouyou didn’t bother with a light. All he managed to do was shove the bags he carelessly threw on the bed earlier to the floor and collapse on the bare mattress before he promptly fell asleep.
≠
He woke slow, the warmth of his dreams sublimated by the beam of sunlight piercing his eyelids. Slumber replaced by the crick in his neck from his awkward sleeping position.
He blinked his eyes open, everything bright and bleary before he remembered where he actually was and popped them open wide and awake.
He sat up fast.
He was alone.
Puzzled, Shouyou rubbed his eyes.
Yeah, still alone.
Shouyou blew his breath out.
Well, then.
Wait.
Shit.
He scrambled off the bed, smacking his knee on the floor but managing to clamber his way up to his roommate’s bed and pop his face up to the display of their digital clock.
Shit fuck he’s late.
Shouyou, still fully dressed from yesterday, forwent brushing his teeth or combing his hair. Instead, he upturned one of his backpacks to empty its contents onto his bed. He snagged the class planner the counselor gave him yesterday, gobbled a couple mints, shoved on a pair of shoes, and bolted out the door.
He was only fifteen minutes late.
Overall, not too bad.
After he was able to calm down a little, he enjoyed his first day of ‘university’ at Furudate. Because he was over high school age, all of his courses were language ones, which was par for the course. Idols were expected to be fluent in multiple languages if they are to achieve worldwide fame, and Shouyou was counting on it. He made a few friends in each class—even one from Karasuno! A freckled boy with a sweet face. Shouyou was so excited to meet someone from his own group that he maybe almost scared him off, but he let him eat with him after classes, so Shouyou counted it as a win.
At that point, Shouyou was practically buzzing with excitement.
Training.
Real idol training.
He was finally going to meet his group.
And he could not shut up about it.
“Is everyone super nice and cool on the team? God, I bet they are. I bet everyone’s amazing. Oh! Have the positions been chosen? Has anyone been named Center yet?”
The boy—Yamaguchi, he believed—shook his head. “No… Ukai told us we will vote on positions closer to debut, after we all practice as different roles. He—”
Shouyou interrupted with a clap. “Yes! I can’t wait! I’m gonna work super hard and then become Karasuno’s Center!” He punched the air excitedly. “When will we get to go to our practice room? Or—wait! Which practice room does Karasuno use? Is it the one with the fancy wood paneling? Or, no! Is it near those vending machines with the seltzer waters?! Ah actually, don’t tell me! I want it to be a surprise!”
Yamaguchi rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “Practice starts soon… if you want, Hinata, I can just take you there now—”
“Yes!” Shouyou leapt up immediately. “Yes, let’s go!”
Yamaguchi snapped a few final bites of his apple before tossing it into the trash, nodding at Shouyou to follow.
It was roughly ten minutes before they were stopped outside the door.
Shouyou needed a moment.
This was it. This was the room that will witness his rise to fame.
Just through this door was opportunity.
Just through this door was his future.
Shouyou took a breath, and then nodded very seriously at Yamaguchi.
Yamaguchi, a bit confused, pushed the door open.
“So,” he started conversationally. “This is Karasuno’s practice room. You will probably be—”
“Bwah,” Shouyou breathed reverently, taking it in, eyes big. “This place is amazing!”
It wasn’t huge—the ones Kiyoko showed him were larger. Those ones were probably for groups post-debut, or closer to it. It was spacious though—enough so that it made Shouyou want to run and dance and try to use the space as much as he could. A wall of solid mirror to his left, the wall in front of him and to his right composed of soundproof black panels. Speakers were mounted in each corner of the room, and as his eyes spotted each one, he counted them off in his head—one… two… three—
Oh.
They weren’t alone.
In one of the far corners of the room was a figure, seated on the springy laminate flooring, folded in a stretch. Shouyou’s eyebrows drew together as some zip of recognition flashed in his mind. His head tilted to the side, watching him.
“Uh, yeah! It’s pretty cool I guess,” Yamaguchi agreed awkwardly. “Um, so like I was saying, you’ll probably be spending most of your time—”
“Who is that?” Shouyou interrupted again, pointing at the guy.
To his surprise, Yamaguchi smacked his hand down. “Don’t—” he cut his voice down, “don’t—uh, point. It’s rude.”
Shouyou stared at Yamaguchi, holding his abused hand.
Yamaguchi’s eyes dropped to the floor for a tense second before he looked up with a put-on cheery expression. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
As Shouyou followed Yamaguchi’s path across empty studio flooring, the man became more detailed. Right off the bat, Shouyou noticed how good-looking this guy was, with his dark hair and long body, and it made that feeling of vague recognition more puzzling. Surely, he would have noticed this person before, no?
They came to a stop in front of his shoes.
Yamaguchi rubbed the back of his neck, and then gestured to the guy.
“Kageyama, this is Hinata. Hinata…” he waved between the two of them, “… Kageyama.”
“It’s nice to meet you!” Hinata said, dipping into an enthusiastic bow. “I’m very excited to join your group!”
Shouyou held his bow a few seconds without receiving a response before looking up. The guy—Kageyama, wasn’t even looking at him, still bent in his stretch.
Shouyou cleared his throat.
Only after a few seconds did Kageyama raise his eyes to him, expression passive.
Bored.
He blinked once, and then looked back down to his legs.
Shouyou’s brows drew together.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Shouyou repeated, cooler than before.
The guy, apparently finished with his stretches, stood up then, still not meeting Shouyou’s eyess. He bent to grab his water bottle and phone before walking away, toward the door that Yamaguchi initially led them through.
Shouyou straightened up as his eyes narrowed to slits, watching Kageyama make his exit.
That ping of recognition chirped louder in his head as he watched the guy retreat, and accompanying it was some weird sense of deja—
“WAIT!” Shouyou yelled, and the guy’s shoulders shot to his ears. “I know you!”
A tense beat passed. Shouyou felt rather than saw Yamaguchi’s whole-body cringe as the guy turned around. He turned slow. His shoulders dropped. And on his face was a mean scowl, one that would certainly chill the bones of those faint of heart.
Thankfully, Shouyou was not faint-hearted.
“What?”
“I know you,” Shouyou repeated, stomping over to him, close enough that he could poke his chest if he wanted to. And he might have, had he not been caught off-guard by how fucking tall this guy was up close, holy shit. Unperturbed, he glared up at him. “You ran into me yesterday—at the entrance.”
The guy didn’t have much of a response. His scowl remained, and after a beat, blew out a small snort before turning around again.
Shouyou’s jaw dropped. What the fuck?
“So you just run into people and not apologize? Real classy.”
And yeah, alright, Shouyou should maybe not antagonize his future group-mate but come on.
It had its desired effect. Kageyama turned back around, hostile eyes piercing Shouyou’s. Those eyes then took a calculated bounce down to his shoes and back up. His mouth turned up in a mean smirk.
“Guess I didn’t see you because of how small you are.”
Furious indignation lit up within Shouyou.
“Oh, ha ha, a short joke. You sure are original, you—tall. person.” Shouyou pinched the bridge of his nose. “And anyway, I’d rather be short than rude any day!”
Asshole shook his head with that shitty smirk before turning around again to leave. “I’m not rude, I just don’t have time for things like that.”
“Things like manners?” Shouyou scoffed to his back. “You better learn them soon! You should talk nicer to your future Center!”
This stopped him in his tracks. He didn’t turn around right away. “What?”
Shouyou crossed his arms. “You heard me.”
As Kageyama turned around fully, Yamaguchi finally cut in. “Hinata, I don’t think—”
Shouyou barreled on. “I’m gonna be your Center someday, so you might want to try treating me a little better, dickhead.”
Something akin to amazement crossed Kageyama’s features, only it was more demeaning than that. Doubt, possibly. Shock. Disbelief.
“You,” he said, walking toward Shouyou again.
Shouyou swallowed.
“You,” he repeated. “You think you’ll be Center? Before me?”
Oh.
Uh.
“Yeah,” said Shouyou, with more confidence than he felt. Confidence that was rapidly waning with each long stride Kageyama took toward him, oh god.
Kageyama stopped mere inches from Shouyou, head bent low. He completely towered over his orange head.
Try as he might, it was very difficult to not feel humbled when he had to look up at Kageyama.
Kageyama held his gaze for one tight beat.
Shouyou couldn’t breathe.
Fuck, his eyes were so blue.
“You are not going to be Center,” he said, his low voice sending goosebumps down his arms. “Not before me. And if you don’t believe me…” Kageyama’s eyes flicked down to somewhere, but only for a moment. “… then you’ll just have to wait and see.”
Shouyou glared, manifesting with every cell in his body that Kageyama combust on the spot, but it, unfortunately, did not work. Kageyama looked between his eyes for four, five more seconds, before he turned for a final time to leave the practice room.
This time, Shouyou didn’t stop him.
And when the door fell shut, Shouyou almost collapsed, like someone had snipped his puppeteer’s strings. Like he was a zombie, animated only by tension and derision.
He didn’t collapse though, he wasn’t quite that dramatic. He turned back to Yamaguchi, who, on the other hand, looked like he’d seen a ghost.
“Yuh-you just…” Yamaguchi was trembling. “You just insulted the King.”
Despite himself, Shouyou’s face scrunched up, confused. “What? What king?”
“Kageyama,” he said, getting his breathing under control. “He’s… he’s the King. That’s what people call him.”
Shouyou was utterly floored. “You guys call that douche The King?”
Yamaguchi shrugged. “He’s super talented. He’s an amazing rapper, and an even better dancer. Everyone sort of assumed he’d lead whatever group he was in, but he doesn’t really lead. He works best alone. So… he’s the King.”
“So he’s the King,” Shouyou repeated, a bit in awe at both that stupid name, and the man himself.
Yamaguchi nodded solemnly, and before either had a chance to say anything more, the door flung open with more members of Karasuno Shouyou had yet to meet.
The day got easier after his confrontation with Kageyama, who did end up coming back shortly after he left, apple in hand. Because it was his first day, Karasuno’s managers agreed to let him observe for the first half of practice, with instruction to learn the moves as soon as possible.
And while Shouyou wanted nothing more than to dive in and master the choreography, it was an admittedly welcome break to get to sit back and watch his group work. They weren’t perfect—as far as he knew, Karasuno was still a newer group—but there was a lot of raw talent in the room.
A few of the more experienced members, particularly the silver-haired one and his burnet friends, were machines—they effortlessly maintained the flow of the room, leading the dancers in their moves. Then there was the buzzcut one—he was insanely high energy, and that played off the shorter one’s energy nicely—they were a blast to watch. Shouyou knew they would be a popular duo in the group when they finally debuted. Yamaguchi was a bit more reserved in his moves, but there was clear drive in his eyes that Shouyou hadn’t seen when they were together before.
The true standout to Shouyou though was, unfortunately, the King himself. Shouyou couldn’t help it. Every move he made looked like it was designed to seduce his viewer. He supposed the moves probably were designed to do that, but it was different with him. His moves were sharp and well-practiced, yet he also had this sensual fluidity that seemed less practiced and more inherent. Like he was born with it.
Like it was just… him.
Shouyou guessed he was maybe a little bit infatuated with him when he managed to forget his godawful personality. And he only supposed this once he caught himself waiting for the specific moves that made his hair hang over his eyes in a particularly inviting way.
He guessed he was only waiting for about five minutes though.
Okay, maybe like ten minutes.
Alright, it was probably longer. But certainly not as long as the time he spent staring at the way his broad shoulders shifted under his plain white t-shirt.
Fuck, yeah, okay. The guy was hot. And an ass. And Shouyou’s main competition for Karasuno’s Center.
So Shouyou would need to figure out how… to deal. With all that.
He could do that! He could definitely do that.
When they broke for dinner around eight at night, Shouyou sat with Yamaguchi again, as well as his blond friend, who Shouyou thought was strong competition for Kageyama for Worst Personality. Everyone was energized and in high spirits from a good practice though, so the brief meal was pleasant, overall.
Yamaguchi told him that after dinner, the faculty went home and the ‘students’ at the academy had designated free time, which Shouyou remembered from Kiyoko’s spiel the day before. He told Shouyou that most of Karasuno met back up again after dinner for more practice though, and that was perfectly fine by Shouyou.
He would practice all day long if he could.
When they were back in the practice room, one of the experienced members that he noticed earlier, the one with silver hair, spent time with Shouyou to teach him the moves step by step. He learned his name was Sugawara Koushi, and he stayed patient and kind for the remainder of the evening.
The hours flew. Before Shouyou realized, it was one in the morning, his body sore and well-worked. He would absolutely be feeling this in the morning. His fellow groupmates started packing up, so he went off to do the same. The managers were long gone.
As he shoved his water bottle in his book bag, he noticed one person who didn’t seem to be in a rush to leave.
“What’s up with him?” Shouyou asked Sugawara, nodding to Kageyama, who was currently standing on one leg stretching his hamstrings.
“Hm?” Suga asked, turning around.
“Is he going anywhere?” Shouyou clarified, eyes on the King.
“Oh, no. He stays late,” Suga told him. “Every night. Guy’s a workhorse! I don’t know when he—”
“Cool, thanks Suga,” Shouyou interrupted, already walking toward Kageyama. Suga watched him retreat with some fond, exasperated smile.
“Hey,” Shouyou said, nodding his head as he approached in like a wassup way. Kageyama met his eyes in the mirror but didn’t respond otherwise.
“Soo…” Shouyou started, rolling up onto his toes. “You staying late?”
Kageyama grunted in response, then dropped his foot to kick his other one into his palm.
“Cool, cool… super cool,” Shouyou said, looking everywhere but at Kageyama. Then, he walked back to his bag and, knowing Kageyama was watching in the mirror, made a little show of removing his water bottle from his book bag again.
Shouyou casually strolled back over to start stretching his own hamstring.
As their groupmates filed out behind them, they waved goodbye to Shouyou and Kageyama. Shouyou waved and shot them smiles, Kageyama ignored them.
When they were alone, Kageyama spoke up.
“What are you doing?”
Shouyou shrugged nonchalantly. “Just, you know. Stretching.”
Kageyama’s forehead wrinkled. He dropped his foot and then lifted his arm in the air to stretch his tricep. Shouyou copied him.
And after Shouyou copied his next three stretches, Kageyama crossed his arms.
“What are you doing,” he asked again, clearly more irritated, eyes scorching even through the mirror.
Shouyou raised his hands defensively. “Nothing! I’m just… keeping up.”
Kageyama’s expression didn’t change in the slightest.
Shouyou was quick to anger. “What?”
Kageyama snorted. “You really think you can keep up with me?”
That was rich. Not only did Shouyou believe he could keep up with him, Shouyou believed he could outdo everything Kageyama could do.
Except for, like. Having shoulders like that. Kageyama outdid him there.
“You’re goddamn right!” Shouyou replied righteously, and then he backtracked a little. “I mean, I don’t really know the dance routines or anything yet, but… I could… definitely—" Shouyou thought fast. “—do more pushups than you.”
Bright disbelief softened Kageyama’s face for several seconds as he processed that before it crunched to a challenging smirk.
“Get on the floor, then.”
And just like that, they spent the next hour pushing each other to their absolute limits. Or at least, it was Shouyou’s absolute limit. To his credit though, Kageyama looked beat by the end. They competed in everything they could think of, and it wasn’t long before they tore a sheet of paper from Shouyou’s planner to keep track of scores. Kageyama beat him in almost every single category, from handstand pushups to side planks, but rather than being an infuriatingly sore winner like Shouyou expected, Kageyama kept coming up with more and more exercises to compete in.
He seemed to revel in the blaze of competition.
And rather than it demoralizing Shouyou, it lit a fire under his ass.
His desire to win, to beat Kageyama in one thing, pushed him hard, and when he was finally, finally able to beat Kageyama in fucking flexibility of all things, he fell backwards on the floor.
“You—are—a fucking—beast,” Shouyou panted between breaths, watching the ceiling spin.
“Then what does that make you?” Kageyama asked from somewhere out of sight. Shouyou could hear the breathlessness in the airy quality of his words. “A rubber band?”
Shouyou’s chest was heaving, so he let himself breathe for a few seconds before eloquently responding with, “You’re… stupid.”
Shouyou stuffed a hand into his hair, pulling at the damp strands and letting them feather out how they wanted. Silence overtook the room for several minutes, and the tentative comraderie that blossomed between the two of them tonight began to fade, along with the endorphins of their workouts, settling into something neutral and pleasant.
Shouyou pushed himself up onto his hands, lounging like he was on the beach.
Kageyama was still laying on the floor, hands laced over his eyes. The white t-shirt clung appealingly to the skin at his tapered waist, and Shouyou squeezed his eyes shut to drown it out.
Jesus, he was exhausted.
And as he stood on shaky legs, he said as much.
“I haven’t met my roommate yet,” he muttered, just to say something. “At this rate, I don’t think I’ll ever meet them.”
Kageyama said nothing, and Shouyou let him be as he walked over to his bag.
Until he did speak up.
“My last roommate,” Kageyama started, voice uncharacteristically soft. Shouyou didn’t realize how hard his voice usually was until hearing it like this. “Ennoshita. He… didn’t like me.”
Shouyou rolled his eyes. “I wonder why.”
Kageyama released his eyes before sitting up. “I don’t know,” he answered, face splotchy, not detecting Shouyou’s sarcasm in the least. “He quit after a month.”
Shouyou didn’t quite know how to respond to that. Condolences? Not really. If he hadn’t quit, Shouyou likely would not even be here.
Instead, he said, “Maybe it’s because you smelled bad.”
Kageyama shot him a glare, and Shouyou winked before turning back to his bag and empty water bottle. Kageyama stood to retrieve his things as well.
And then something unfortunate occurred to Shouyou as he caught sight of his open planner.
He pulled the book out.
“Ah,” Shouyou winced, turning to Kageyama apologetically. “Could you… help me find my room?”
Kageyama leveled him with a long-suffering stare.
“Please?” Shouyou asked, eyes big. “I don’t really know the campus that well, and I think we’re kinda far away, and it’s super late and I really don’t want to get lost and get murdered—”
“Alright,” Kageyama interrupted. “Jesus. You wouldn’t get murdered here, dumbass.” He hefted his bag over his shoulder and came over to inspect the planner. “What’s your room number?”
“Oh, uh.” Shouyou flipped to the page and turned the book around, eyes narrowing at his shitty handwriting. “… 910?”
Shouyou squinted a little more before deciding those were indeed the numbers. Kageyama’s lack of response was conspicuous though, and it made Shouyou glance up questioningly.
Kageyama was flat-out staring at him.
Shouyou’s eye contact made him blink and reboot like an old computer.
“What’s your room number?” He asked again.
“910,” Shouyou repeated, slow. “I know I said you’re stupid, Kageyama, but you really don’t need to demonstrate—”
“910?”
And just like that, the neutral ground they landed on before was gone, dust beneath their shoes. Kageyama radiated hostility, face all splotchy again.
What the fuck?
“What the fuck?”
“910,” Kageyama checked, eyes wide and almost panicked. “You’re in room—goddammit.” He rubbed a palm down his face.
“What’s the matter? What’s going on?”
Kageyama held his face for several beats—during which Shouyou truly worried for his sanity. What if Kageyama loses it? Like, for real loses it? And he’s the only witness? On his first day at Furudate?! Who would he even call? Kiyoko? She seemed to have her stuff together… if nothing else, she would at least know who to call.
Shouyou waited with bated breath, not really knowing how to respond to his apparent anguish. Eventually, he dropped his hand, resigned and suddenly very, very tired. His worn eyes fell on Shouyou’s.
“You’re… my new roommate.”