Chapter Text
“Should we plan your leaving party now, Short Stock?” Tsukishima smirked, his friend snickering as he left for work.
“Be quiet, Tsukishima,” came the long suffering tones of Sugawara, “Hinata isn’t leaving. Get back to work.”
Tsukishima raised his eyebrow and turned back to the shelf, half heartedly dragging a cloth across it as Hinata smirked and sauntered past, flinching slightly when the other scowled at him. He slipped behind the till and keyed himself in, leaning across the counter on his elbows. He could see Tsukishima smirking at him out of the corner of his eye but couldn’t find the energy to argue with the other after everything.
Tsukishima seemed to be radiating snide energy, Hinata scowled, turning the other way and prepared himself for whatever the string bean had to throw at him.
He’d been checking stock lists for over an hour when he looked up to see Tsukishima’s conceited sneer.
“What?” Hinata spat out, “You wanna fight?”
Tsukishima snorted and raised an eyebrow.
“Hey hey hey!”
Hinata leaned around Tsukishima, a huge grin splitting his face. Stood in the entrance to the shop was a tall, well built man with thick white and black hair, stuck up in a way that gave him the distinct impression of a horned owl.
“Bokuto-san!”
Tsukishima scowled, shoving his hands in his pockets and making his way into the back room.
“Hey! Where are you going, Glasses-kun?”
Tsukishima turned, giving Bokuto a withering look, “Unfortunately I’m allergic to idiocy.” With that he walked through the door, slamming it resolutely behind him.
“Didn’t he use that one last week?”
“I don’t know, they all just blur into one for me.”
Bokuto nodded as though Hinata had just spouted some great wisdom and sauntered over to the till.
“What’re you looking for today Bokuto-san?”
“New shoes,” Bokuto frowned and flopped against the counter top, “I burned through another pair.”
Hinata nodded in sympathy, Bokuto seemed to need a new pair of volleyball shoes every four months. Hinata didn’t know how often or how hard Bokuto trained, but he was certain it was a hell of a lot more than his old high school team.
“Okay, Bokuto-san. I’ll get you-”
“Ah, um. Hinata-kun?”
Hinata glanced up as Bokuto’s head shot around, staring at the man stood in the doorway.
“Akaashi-san!” Hinata pushed his way around Bokuto, the Volleyball player having completely stilled when Akaashi entered. “What’re you doing here?”
“This was delivered to my apartment by accident.” Akaashi produced a small parcel with Hinata’s name and address scrawled across it. “I remembered you worked here so thought I’d kill two birds with one stone. I needed a new running shirt.”
Akaashi smiled, and Hinata heard a soft gasp from behind him. He glanced back at Bokuto, but the other man was still staring at Akaashi.
Hinata took the parcel from Akaashi and called Tsukishima in, asking him to help Akaashi with whatever he needed.
He tugged on Bokuto’s shirt, dragging him around to the shoe section, finally pulling the larger man out of his reverie.
“Hey, hey, Hinata?”
Hinata hummed, pulling an array of shoes out from the shelves.
“Who was that?”
Turning around, Hinata saw Bokuto craning his neck around the shelves.
“My neighbour,” Hinata grinned at Bokuto, dropping the shoes in front of him to choose, “he’s real nice! I nearly flooded his flat once but he still smiles and says hi every time we pass each other!”
Bokuto nodded absentmindedly, smoothing his hair spikes up. Hinata heard the distant jangle of the door and watched as Bokuto visibly loosened.
“What time do you get off work, Hinata?”
“In about half an hour.”
“It’s really late,” Bokuto frowned down at Hinata, but his eyes kept flickering back to the doorway, “You shouldn’t walk home alone – I’ll take you!”
“Yeah!” Hinata grinned, “You can tell me more about your matches!”
Bokuto grinned, picking up a pair of white trainers with black and gold soles.
Hinata shook his hands out as he stood in the middle of his living room. Walking back with Bokuto had been a good distraction, the other’s excitable mood bringing Hinata’s own back up. It’d been slightly awkward when Bokuto had refused to come inside, instead lingering around the hallway the entire time, but Hinata put that down to politeness - he couldn't think of any other reason Bokuto would be so interested in the hallway.
Now, Hinata stood contemplating his decision. He needed this half-war to end. He took a deep breath, clenching his fists, and steeled himself.
“I know you’re there, Ka-ka-Kageyama!”
“Wow, great deduction, Shitlock. I’m literally always here.”
The ghost appeared suddenly, leaning against the sofa with his arms crossed. He scowled at Hinata, making the other feel uncomfortable for his very act of being there – which was probably his intention if Hinata really thought about it.
“We need to talk.”
Kageyama’s scowl, if possible, deepened.
“You need to move on.” Hinata stared into Kageyama’s ethereal blue eyes, “There’s nothing keeping you here.”
Kageyama looked furious, but Hinata forced himself to keep speaking – knowing that if the words didn’t come out now, they never would.
“What’s even keeping you here? Just pass on – just go! This isn’t your home anymore. You should just ge-”
He only stopped when a dish smashed next to his head, quickly dodging as another came flying towards him.
“What the hell is your de-” When his arm was clipped by a passing glass, Hinata thought it best to run, bolting from the apartment as quickly as his feet would allow.
Hinata sat cross legged on the sofa, various sport science text books piled up around him. Last night he’d decided that the only thing to do was to work around Kageyama, attempting to ignore the haunting and focus on his work. Making the conscious decision to stay away from the library, as all he does there is research exorcisms – much to Yachi’s chagrin – Hinata had created himself a study nest in a last ditch attempt to revise for next week’s test.
Which is why when his phone buzzed the first time, he resolved to ignore it.
The second time, he couldn’t help his eyes flicker to the screen where Inouka’s name was glowing obnoxiously at him.
The third time he snatched it up, desperate to know what could possibly be so important.
From: Inouka!!! ۹(ÒہÓ)۶
Subject: that quick!
yo shou! u watching the jpn v can game?? ushijimi is on FIRE
From: Inouka!!! ۹(ÒہÓ)۶
Subject: balls fast as lightning man
they speedin’
put the game on!!!!!
From: Inouka!!! ۹(ÒہÓ)۶
Subject: RESPOND
I NEED SOEONE TO TLK 2 ABT THIS !!!!!!!!!!!
Hinata’s leg shook, a sudden indecisiveness washing over him. His textbooks seemed to be glaring up at him, but all he could think about was how powerful Japan’s men’s team was this year. His thumb scrolled up and down his phone screen haphazardly and he thought about how much his classmates would be talking about this game tomorrow.
Ten minutes later when he text Inouka about Ushijima’s insane inner spike, he could only bring himself to feel slightly guilty.
The rally had been going on for almost a whole two minutes now, neither side’s receivers giving in. It was Japan’s set point and Canada weren’t letting them take it that easily. Hinata was practically on the edge of his seat, his phone buzzing almost continually. He saw the moment Japan had some leeway, Ushijima’s signature left handed spike slamming the ball mere centimetres away from Canada’s libero’s hand. The crowd went wild, Hinata was screaming, but when a voice behind him started cheering too he shrieked and fell from the sofa.
“What the hell are you doing, dumbass?!” Kageyama peered over the sofa at him, a sneer decorating his face.
“Well you could have at least announced yourself?”
“Why should I have to announce myself in my own home?”
Hinata clambered back onto the sofa, choosing to ignore Kageyama’s words – the last thing he wanted was a shattered TV.
Kageyama had moved around the sofa, standing cross armed besides Hinata and making the redhead hyper aware of his looming presence. Hinata rolled his shoulders back and stared at the television – watching Canada score the first point of the second set, a service ace.
They were five points into the set when Hinata finally attempted to speak, keeping his gaze dead set forwards.
“So, uh, you like volleyball?”
There was a vague grunt from besides him and Hinata nodded gently.
“Did you ever play when you were, um, when you were-”
“When I was what?”
“When you were, uh,” Hinata glanced to the side, seeing Kageyama scowling down at him with a raised eyebrow, “When you were a younger man.”
Kageyama rolled his eyes and turned back to the television.
“Yeah.” He muttered, “I was a setter.”
“That’s so cool! I used to play in high school, you know?” Hinata beamed with pride, “I was a middle blocker.”
There was a long pause, Hinata’s smile fading from his face as Kageyama simply stared at him.
“W-what?”
Kageyama shrugged, “You’re very short.”
Hinata’s mouth fell open at the blunt way Kageyama spoke. There had been no malicious intent in his words, just pure fact. That’s what made it even worst.
“I can jump!” He said indignantly.
Kageyama shrugged and nodded, turning back to the television.
By midway through the third set, Hinata was reclined on the sofa – watching the television through Kageyama’s semi-transparent torso. The other was still stood in the same position he’d taken up almost an hour ago, arms crossed, floating ever so slightly above the ground.
“Doesn’t that get uncomfortable?” Hinata said, taking advantage of the time out to attempt a conversation.
“What?” Kageyama spun, frowning down at Hinata. Though this time the expression was made more out of confusion than anger. Hinata didn’t think too much on how easy he found it to read the ghost.
“Standing like that. There’s a chair, like, right there? Why don’t you sit your ass down?”
Kageyama just stared at him, looking at Hinata as if he was the biggest idiot to ever grace the earth. Not like he could talk, Hinata thought, the guy couldn’t even pass over.
“I’m a ghost.” Kageyama said, turning back to the television and ending the conversation.
“And here I thought it was so you didn’t shift that stick any further up your ass.” Hinata muttered.
“Hah?!”
“Nothing!”
“That’s what I thought.”
As the final part of the game played out, Hinata decided not to try for conversation again. The best thing to do would be to avoid the other, like a bad flatmate that drinks all of your milk.
Except rather than drinking all your milk, this guy floods your apartment, smashes all your dishes, and attempts to terrify you into an early grave.
“He’s gotten stronger.”
Hinata jumped, looking up at the stoic ghost. He wasn't sure the other had ever initiated conversation before. The commentators were showing a replay of one of Ushijima’s more impressive spikes, Kageyama watched, seemingly entralled, a carefully blank expression on his face.
Humming in response, Hinata sat up slightly, looking around Kageyama to see the screen fully.
“I think Bokuto-san could put up a good fight against him though.”
Kageyama scowled, tutting at Hinata.
“There’s no way Fukurodani could beat Shiratorizawa.”
Shaking his head, Hinata turned and sat up fully. “Bokuto-san has been training really hard though, he’s the strongest guy I know. They could definitely win the league this year.”
“He’s no Ushijima Wakatoshi.”
The crowd broke out in rapturous applause, and Hinata broke his gaze away from Kageyama. Ushijima was stood in the middle of the court, Japan victorious. Interviewers were approaching Ushijima, the team falling about themselves in joy – but Hinata and Kageyama were completely silent. The air was dense and Hinata felt choked by the discomfort.
“There are no two ways about it. We are going to be the league champions. Everyone on this team is one hundred percent dedicated to me as the ace – we are unbreakable. No more weak li-”
The TV cut out, static and a shot of Ushijima blurring up the screen.
“What the fuck wa- Kageyama? Kageyama?”
The spirit had disappeared, leaving Hinata sat alone with only the sound of the static and Ushijima’s steely gaze to keep him company.