Chapter Text
Correct. You see it all. Do you understand?
Do I understand?
-
“Noya-san!” Shouyou cries.
Let it be known, Shouyou is an ugly crier. Always has been, always will be. His eyes well up like springs and his entire face flushes an ugly red, and his nose puffs up too, for some reason.
“Tanaka-san!” He sobs. He pounces on the two, smashing them together into a tight hug. He’s made it to 5’7, now, so he looms over Noya, dripping snot and tears onto his shirt. Noya’s ear, full of piercings, catches in his hair.
Graduation is always a sad event. He’s cried at every graduation he’s ever had (save fourth and fifth grade, he wasn’t there). He probably cried the worst in eighth grade, but the most were definitely last year.
“Hinata,” Yamaguchi says, pulling Shouyou away by the collar. “Really, they’re not even going to college, they’re going to be around all the time,”
“Still!” Shouyou whines. “We’re not on the same team anymore!”
“Shouyou!” Noya and Tanaka roar. They’re crying too- the only reason Shouyou doesn’t look like a complete fool here.
Ennoshita sighs and Shouyou spins around, tears following. “And you guys too!” He hollers, pulling Kinoshita and Narita in for a tight hug as well. “I’m going- I’m going to miss you,” He gasps, between hiccups. “So much!”
“There, there,” Narita says awkwardly, patting Shouyou’s back.
He doesn’t know graduation always makes him cry so bad. He’s been used to saying goodbye since he was little- but maybe it’s the entire show of it. The idea of moving on, rather than moving away.
Yachi bursts into tears and she leans up on her tiptoes to hug Tanaka. They’d developed a really close friendship this year- entirely expected, may he add. They’re perfect personalities together. Kiyoko-san stands near them, having taken the day off from work to pick high school graduate Tanka up for a date. She flashes him a wry smile, and Shouyou rubs his red face with the back of his hand.
“You okay?” she says, softly.
“Yeah,” Shouyou answers stuffily. “Yeah, today is good.”
-
Funnily enough, Shouyou’s greatest concern has never been his height. He’s always been on the shorter, skinner, side- effects of malnourishment for the majority of his youth, mama would say sadly- but it rarely hinders him past volleyball. His freaky athletic abilities that Kageyama would curse usually came in clutch when Tsukishima would get the jump on him over the net. He doesn’t even really care when they tease him for it- because trust that he’s armed with an arsenal of pain. Tsukishima won’t know what hit him.
Really, the only time it’s ever bothered him is when girls are around.
The romance factor has been seriously lacking in Shouyou’s life. He went on a few dates with this boy a year ahead of him last year, and he had a car which was really cool, especially for some more fun activities. Ultimately it hadn’t worked out, but they’d both had fun- going their separate ways with a silly wave. Noya and Tanaka teased him about smooching the school pretty boy for about two days until they forgot, and weirdyama almost popped like three volleyballs. It was over in less than three months.
Even more than that, he hasn’t had a real crush in sooooo long. It’s so boring! He almost misses the ugly butterflies that would flood his throat, back when he was crushing hard on Aoi-chan in his third year of middle school before he summoned the guts to ask her out. The closest feeling he has to that is when he’s hanging out just Kageyama, and he maneuvers himself around to burp in his face after he tells him he sucks. The animosity is great.
And worst of all- he thinks mama is dating . The mere thought of it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He needs to buff up a little to scare this man away- although he’s sure mama can take care of it anyways. Continuous night shifts in the Nagoya hospital teach you how to kill a man in five different ways.
It’s not a big deal, anyway, all this love shit. His and Suzumeda-san’s sessions have almost come to a close, and she’s been having him narrow his focus. His health, his family, and volleyball. Important things.
He’s been better, really. The months between- January to April- have been spent rehabilitating his psyche, or whatever. They’ve worked through whatever confusing memories ricochet through his brain and the vivid dreams that paint his eyelids. He chases Natsu’s tiny demons she calls friends around the park. Mama brings home pretty flowers and then goes back out to buy a vase because they apparently don’t have one.
April and the beginning of the school year come slow and sticky, like the dripping popsicles that paint his and Yachi’s hands as they wander the shopping center.
“Yachiiii,” Shouyou groans. “We have walked past this storefront six times.”
“Come on, come on, just a few more times,” she hisses, yanking his arm. “I know she works here.”
It seems to never leave him, the fever of spring lust. He and Yachi have dragged their feet past the ice cream store almost six times, hoping to catch the eye of the really, really cute girl Yachi has been flustered over for the past two weeks.
“Why can’t you just talk to her like a normal person?” Shouyou curses. “Cowardice,” he says, shaking his head ashamedly.
“Yup, exactly,” Yachi mutters. “And that’s the way it’s going to stay.”
Shouyou rolls his eyes, stepping forward right into a white t-shirt- and flinching back as a cool sticky fluid runs right down the side of his head.
“What-?”
“Oh no! I’m so sorry,” a girl says, eyes wide as she looks around wildly for paper towels. “I really need to watch where- I mean, I just got off a shift here, and I wasn’t looking-”
“It’s okay!” Yachi pipes up between them.
Shouyou furrows his brow. Well- obviously, he’s only going to say it’s okay, he can’t say otherwise- but still, not Yachi’s place to say so. He blinks up at the girl and yeesh , she’s tall. Tall with light, long brown hair, and sparkling dark eyes. Her skin is tanned, and her lips curl around white teeth. Damn. She’s just Yachi’s type.
Wait.
He looks at Yachi, a grin starting to form, and she catches his eye. ‘That’s her!’ She screams with her eyes.
“Yup!” Shouyou chirps, hands lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe at the ice cream in his hair. “It’s totally fine- but you got some on you too- ”
“Yeah, and I could totally help you get some of it off- and it’s my responsibility to, actually, because, um, yeah,” Yachi says, already shuffling the unsuspecting girl towards the bathroom.
“Oh, uh, okay?” The girl says, looking down. “I mean- I can get it off, you don’t need to-”
“No. I do.”
Shouyou exhales through his nose. ‘They would be a cute couple,’ he muses, looking at Yachi gently pull the other through the crowd. He feels a sting of jealousy in his stomach.
Hmm. Maybe he does care a little.
-
“So, I have a dream sometimes, where like,” Shouyou presses his thumbs together.
“Take your time,” Suzumeda-san says, kindly. Kindly, kindly, kindly . There was a time Shouyou felt that kind voice sicken him to his core, carve through his insides like a knife coated in sugar. It kind of calms him now.
“Yeah,” Shouyou says, sniffing loudly. “I’m like- okay, I’m like in a forest. Real big.” He opens his palms to demonstrate.
Suzumeda-san nods.
“And it’s empty, except for me, right. But I hear whispers and scratches even though nothing’s there.”
She gestures at him to continue.
“Yeah, so like I continue walking because I know no one’s there. But then a vine catches my foot, and I can’t continue going.
“And then, I’m on fire. And I feel like I’m on fire too like I can’t breathe because of the smoke and shit and my skin is burning and everything is choking me, and then I wake up.”
Suzumeda-san raises an eyebrow. “And you’ve been having this dream for weeks now?”
Shouyou nods. “Yeah, and I tried meditating before sleep and I’m on my routine and everything.”
Suzumeda-san blinks. “I see. You still taking those pills, Shouyou?” She asks, lips pressing together.
-
Shouyou’s jump serve has a success rate of about 65%. Tsukishima claims he doesn’t understand how Stupid Hinata managed to arrive at that number when he’s currently flunking out of pre-calculus- bah, whatever. He knows this number is right, and no matter what Ashido-san says sometimes answers to equations do come from the heart.
It’s not good enough.
It’s nowhere near as powerful as Kageyama’s- not even in the same ballpark, and will never even glean the accuracy Yamaguchi has.
Yamaguchi blows the whistle with a start, sending Shouyou’s head whipping from where he’s currently teaching a few first years the proper spiking form.
They line up, and Shouyou gestures that he’s going to stay on a little while longer. He promises to clean up, and he catches Ukai sending Takeda a wary look. He grits his teeth. They’ve been on his case ever since he freaked out in school last year.
Kageyama catches their eye, and he nods to let them know he’ll stay back. Ever responsible.
Shouyou bounces the ball between his feet, catching it with ease. He takes a deep breath in, focusing his energy into his palm.
Kageyama’s shoe squeaks.
“I don’t need a fucking keeper,” Shouyou hisses.
Kageyama doesn’t say anything.
“I’m not even here,” he finally answers.
Shouyou feels his eyebrow twitch in annoyance.
Two years ago, he’d have looked at the sight and gloated. After all, who would have ever thought their roles would ever be reversed like this? Shouyou- irritable and grumpy, snappy and rude. Kageyama- the oh-so-charitable vice-captain.
Shouyou bounces it once more.
Once more.
“I started a new med rotation.” He announces.
He can hear Kageyama nod. “I see.” He says quietly.
They’ve spent entirely too much time together in the past years. Even without prompt, the two of them rub off on each other, sticking like glue on paper.
Shouyou finds himself rubbing his jaw in the same way he always watches Kageyama do, and in that line, he’d see Kageyama run his hands through his hair frantically, imitating the manic motions Shouyou would do.
“It’s because I’ve been. Having these dreams.”
Shouyou swallows.
‘It’s not dumb,’ he reminds himself. He knows everyone’s noticed a bit of a mood change in him- hell, he looks in the mirror, and the deep-set bags under his eyes that will never leave gape at him. He’s just giving an explanation. Shouyou will be back soon- palatable and bouncing as they like him.
“I see,” Kageyama repeats, stepping closer. Shouyou’s eyes are still closed, but he feels the heat radiate off the other in waves.
“Would you like to talk about it?” Kageyama says stuffily. Had it been another time, another day, Shouyou would chuckle about how with every stride Kageyama made in their time, his social skills were still like that of a newborn. He’s awkward, still, even with him.
The two of them, that have never been apart. Even when there was nothing more Shouyou wanted than to throw a rock in his face. Even when Kageyama did throw a blistering punch in his face. Even when his words scraped down Shouyou’s throat, leaving him spitting blood and poison like the rearing head of an Indian cobra.
Next year, Shouyou will not even be in Japan.
“No,” Shouyou says decisively. “Let’s do receive practice.”
Receiving will never be thoughtless for him. He’s the kind of guy that will never be able to do anything thoughtlessly. But the past two years, he’s been practicing this more than he’s slept or ate- and no exaggeration. You know he means it. We know he means it.
Kageyama takes the ball from his hands, and just as he’s about to jerk away, he stills. Shouyou opens his eyes, looking up into Kageyama’s blue ones.
Let it be known, hear it ring through the land- Kageyama’s eyes are the most beautiful thing about him. They are warm, easy, calming, grounding.
Some people walk around Japan, eyes piercing and sharp- others look like him, hungry and filled with desire- most walk around, lazy and unassuming.
But Kageyama’s eyes are alight with a power that emanates from his every step. A confidence in even loneliness.
Kageyama’s hands fold over his own, just like his eyes- easy, warm, grounding. Shouyou takes a deep breath in, glancing down to see how Kageyama’s cover his own just slightly, knuckles folding over.
That moment feels like an eternity.
“We are friends,” Kageyama says. “I’ll hate you if you don’t tell me when you’re not okay.”
And just like that, the tension in the air is slashed. Shouyou smiles.
It’s like being five again- before he knew Takashi shouldn’t have, wasn’t supposed to, to hurt him like that, to hurt mama like that- before he knew his home was a breeding ground for crime and anger and hatred and violence- before he became a young man that slept awake, and lived hunger itself.
Simple. Easy. Everything always is, with Kageyama.
“I’ll tell you some for every three serves you get off me,” He says toothily, smirking up at Kageyama- whose face is red. Poor guy needs sunscreen.
“You’re on.”
-
In May, the flowers bloom with the promise of summer soon, on the horizon. Hot summer, with its unbearable heat and tank tops and the open pool.
We are a flawed species, friend. Summer is coming- and all Kaneko Maeko wants to do is go ice skating in the cool, cool indoor rink with a certain boy in her class.
Maeko is seventeen, a third-year at Karasuno High School, and art is the center of her life. She spends hours upon hours, retinas burning yet still focused on her canvas, and she brings to life the ideas clouding her brain.
It’s not for nothing. She loves it, loves it so hard that she paints her love for it- and immediately throws it out, because ew , that looked gross. Like, blegh . Words are not her strong suit.
Oh yeah. She’s also won a few competitions. Whoops, forgot.
Really, she’s only seeing out the rest of high school because her parents told her if she doesn’t at least have a diploma no art school will take her (a lie , she already has an acceptance in Kyoto, and it’s only May ), and to date cute boys and girls. Also, a lie, because that’s apparently a lot harder than thought.
So yeah. Maeko is a bit lost on the whole popularity scale. She varies from ‘We’re all gonna hate you’ to ‘Let us worship you’ at least three times a week- so often she’s determined it’s probably based on the lunar scale- which she can’t blame them for, it’s the bastard Moon’s doing.
And yeah, she’s a little eccentric. So her shoes have paint splatters on them- just look away if it bothers you, moron. The rest of her uniform is clean. And the only reason they call her eccentric is that she says what everyone else is thinking- because the only thing she values more than art is the truth. That’s what her name means after all.
Anyways. Back to it. Maeko is in her last year of The Wretched High School experience, and she’s kissed about two people on a drunken party’s whim. Soon enough, she’ll be long gone, hopefully in Tokyo, hanging out with other actually cool people that understand her and don’t turn their backs on her every other week because of some petty rumor that is a lie.
But until then. She’s going to be stuck here. So she may as well make it the best it can be. And if that means she has to ask a cute boy to go ice skating with her, because his dumbass can’t get the hint, then so be it. She can wear the pants, that’s okay.
Hinata Shouyou stands before her, his entire volleyball team very indiscreetly watching from behind their large window. An older man with bleached hair cheers him on.
“Um,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
She holds out the card. “You’re attractive! Also cool! Separate things, but they go together as well,” she adds, leaning and winking heavily. Hinata’s neck flushes a light pink. It’s bright out here.
“Anyways, my name is Maeko. You know me because I kept forcing you to work with me in English class. By the way, you didn’t finish your part of the slideshow.”
“Uh, sorry,”
“It’s okay!” She holds out the letter, like the girls on her mom’s soaps do. “Also, you should go out with me!”
Shouyou’s eyes widen all the way, and she thinks she hears someone crying. “You sure your volleyball team is okay?”
“They’re fine!” He says excitedly, the dazed look finally fading from his eyes. He jumps up. It’s funny- as in, she’s probably two centimeters taller than him. Not that it matters with the- what, six, seven feet up? Insane- he clears with that jump. I mean. It would matter because he hopefully wouldn’t jump on their dates.
She’s getting ahead of herself.
“Sure!” He says, grabbing her hands. “You’re pretty cool, y’know, Maeko-chan? Uh- I have to finish practice,” he gestures back to the gym, where someone has taken to yelling in excitement, really, what a strange group, “but just tell me when and where and we can go! I can clear most days off!”
“Perfect!” She gushes. People really should be truthful more often. Look at how nicely this went. “How about today! I want to go ice-skating.”
“Uwahhh, are you a good skater?! You’re going to have to show me,” Shouyou says, elbowing her playfully. “I’ve only skated like, once before,”
“Hinata-san!” Someone cries from inside.
Maeko blinks and laughs. “Maybe you should get back in there. They sound like they’re about to commit a crime- you should come to pick me up at my place. It’s right by the Shopping Center- I’ll be waiting outside,” and, in a complete act of a little buffoonery and mostly confidence, she leans down the slightest and presses a soft kiss to his cheek.
Hinata- no, she should say Shouyou now, blinks at her, stunned, lips parted, before laughing. “You’re great, Maeko-chan.” He takes her hands again. “I’m really excited for tonight,” he says, voice lowering slightly- then he runs off, to his club, and she watches their green-haired manager try to wrestle the first-year back into the room.
Perhaps this will be fun.
-
Routine is important in a recovering patient’s life.
It’s something Suzumeda-san drills in Shouyou’s head, driving it home right during their last session. She covers his hand with her own and looks him right in the eye as she speaks. He always respected that about her- even when he sat sniffling and red-faced, curling up into himself as he shakes, she always respected him and treated him as an equal.
Shouyou never even had to try to be recognized by her. He’s always had to with everyone else. He’s always had something to prove.
But yes- routine. Balance. Apparently, it’s important to a developing child’s social and world view. And that’s probably what messes with his brain a lot and brings forth dreams from the ninth circle of Dante’s hell.
He wakes with the sun, and takes out his simple lightweight mat, out onto the small veranda.
It took practice- so much pain and work- but he trains his mind to focus on just one thing. Himself. His body, an asset. What do you feel today? How will we work together today?
That’s an important thing he learned. It’s not him, controlling his body. It’s all of him working together, and if he is a leader, he must treat every part, from his brain to even the last strand of fucking pubic hair, with respect.
He makes breakfast for himself and his family. This is something he added on his own- after he had already made bounds with meditating. He lives for the quiet of the morning when he can give just one thing to his mom.
He showers, quick- because a long shower often has him spiraling- and jumps off onto his bike with a cheerful goodbye, as mama gets Natsu ready for their neighbor to drive her and their son to the elementary school.
He gets to practice- still first, racing neck-and-neck with Kageyama. Don’t tell him, but he considers this one of the most important parts of his day. The days confined at home probably could have killed him.
Nonetheless, boundless energy once again fills him at the sight of court- wide and waiting, just for him to step on. It’s rejuvenating. Probably medicinal, or something corny like that.
Then he goes through whatever school he’s supposed to do. The only reason he’s not skipping out every class is that they’d bar him from volleyball- he hasn’t had a shot at being good in school since fourth grade. There’s not really a point in him trying when he knows there’s only one path he can take now- a South-American beach, the smell of salty ocean air.
He spends math on the roof with some other slackers. He goes to English so he can make faces at Yamaguchi, across the hall. He goes to science because by then, Kageyama will find him trying to sneak into Takeda-san’s class since he doesn’t have a third period and berate him about the image he gives the club. As if Kageyama is any better- Shouyou is positive he saw a head of dark hair dip out of the door to the roof at one point. He goes to art class because Yachi is in there, and together they throw wet clay at Tsukishima- who can’t get rid of them, no matter how much he moves around the class.
Eventually, lunch will come, and he will seek out Maeko to very romantically and not at all weirdly feed each other under the cherry blossoms on the front field. He’ll ‘oooh’ and ‘aaaaah’ at her sketchbooks, and rant about the old man that came into Suzuki-san’s right at closing.
Lunch is important as well. Lunch is a strict diet he’s been on since last year- just enough carbs, a little more protein, some fiber, and definitely more sugar than average- fatty acids building up to help curb his metabolism and meds. He lost a lot of weight last year. It was bad- it was bad , bad.
It’s funny, almost, how he says routine is important when he floats through the school day. But the timetable helps him, even if what he does in between is insignificant. He’s never been late to somewhere he intends to be.
He’ll float by the rest of classes, and finally, afternoon practice will arrive- when Maeko will bid him a boisterous goodbye, and he can bounce into the court, jumping onto Abe- a tall second year- demanding him to try and block him.
If that first step onto the gym floor in the morning is rejuvenation, walking back on there in the afternoon is like a resurgence. He catches himself (every day!) goofily thinking, ‘I’m back!’, giggling himself silly.
And leaving- it’s silly to say, sore and aching- it hurts. But he’s better now, and he knows when to stop- so he’ll pack up, pretend to fight Kageyama and walk off laughing, and head straight off to a mostly relaxing shift at Suzuki-san’s. Maeko will come in about halfway through, and he hangs off her every dramatic word, and Yui-san will come down and tell them to shut up and go back to work. She means it all lightheartedly.
He’ll bike home, or he’ll take Maeko’s hand, and they’ll allow themselves a walk around- stopping Ukai’s store to heckle the old man, or spinning on the kid’s merry-go-around, hogging the swings to themselves. He’s never not laughing.
But he’ll be home by 9, and that’s the most important thing. Dinner is the same rule, and he kisses mama and Natsu goodnight early. He does the barest amounts of homework, but he needs to be in bed by 11, or he’ll probably freak out- and that’s not an exaggeration. The few days he stays out include extensive mental preparation.
And then he rises. And he does it again.
-
“Idiot. You’ve never taped your hands before?” Kageyama’s breath is hot on Shouyou’s face.
Shouyou winces slightly, as the white gauze scrapes the top of his irritated skin. “No,” he breathes. “Never had to.”
“Liar,” Kageyama says, no heat behind the words. He loops the gauze around Shouyou’s fingers, once, twice, fingers encircling Shouyou’s wrist, holding it in place. Kageyama’s hands are earthly warm. Shouyou’s face is also warm. Interesting.
“I’m a spiker,” Shouyou insists. “I don’t hurt my hands all that often.”
Kageyama’s face softens. “I’ve never met someone that tries to downplay so much shit,” he says, chuckling as he turns over, working on Shouyou’s right hand.
Shouyou’s lips quirk up. “Whatever. That’s what I have you for, right?” He says playfully, jostling Kageyama’s arm with his elbow.
Kageyama looks up, catching Shouyou’s eyes with his own. He glances him over, and his mouth splits into a smile- one Shouyou can only have the pleasure of witnessing once a blue moon. It should be hung in a museum somewhere- no, Shouyou wants a picture of Kageyama Tobio’s smile capture once, and only once, to be hung in a room in his house one day so only he’d ever see it.
“Yeah.” Kageyama huffs. And then, because they can never have nice things, he pinches Shouyou’s knee painfully. “These too. You should get knee pads.”
Shouyou flushes, pulling his legs away- skin prickling at the lack of warmth from Kageyama’s leg- since when had they been touching?
“I can’t,” Shouyou replies, rolling his eyes. Hello. “I spent too much of this month’s paycheck already.”
Kageyama wraps off the edge of Shouyou’s right hand with a flourish, and Shouyou’s not sure why he’s disappointed. “Already?” he says, vaguely disapproving.
“You better not give me any shit!” He says, pointing a finger in his face. “It was just Maeko-chan’s birthday, and we had a super special date.”
And just like that, whatever moment Kageyama had been having is cut in an ugly half. His scowl returns, full-force, and his eyebrows set back down heavily. “Oh.”
He grunts, standing up from the bench they’d been sitting on. “Isn’t your birthday soon?” He says, looking over his shoulder.
Shouyou flexes his fingers under the tape, distracted. “Hmm? Oh yeah, the 21st.” He says offhandedly.
15 days later, a shiny new pair of kneepads and an awkward Kageyama show up on his doorstep. Shouyou’s heart glows.
-
Perhaps it is a prophecy- this dream of his. That a man clothed in orange, head to toe, shall burn slowly in the loudest silence imaginable. Shouyou certainly feels as if that’s him sometimes.
Yesterday, he woke at 2 am to hurl his guts out, just barely making it to the toilet. All because of some… some fucking dream. Suzumeda-san mentions trying out a journal, and Shouyou mentions throwing himself off a bridge. He immediately takes it back. He’s never been so frustrated.
So yeah, as the bile rises up to his throat, wetting his vision and searing his skin, Shouyou thinks he is burning alive. Like a match set ablaze.
He sits on the bathroom floor, forehead leaning against the cool porcelain of the toilet in an effort to cool him down the slightest. It won’t work, though, not against the raging fire dancing under his skin.
There was a time, in first-year when someone told him he was like the sun.
If Shouyou is the sun, he is the end of its life, right before the entire being manages to collapse on itself, exploding in a superflare and compressing into an all-encompassing black hole. A black hole that burns and burns and sucks up everything around it.
Shouyou chuckles. Sucks. Yeah, he sure sucks a few things.
He blinks wearily, turning his body to face the wall.
“Hello,” he says softly, at the man staring back at him. He blinks again- and he is gone.
-
“Maeko,” he whispers into the edge of his speaker, “I miss you, baby .” The words are foreign on his tongue, but it’s a new thing they’re trying out right now.
It would be the scene in a love story, when the protagonists realize they can’t live without each other and end up running back home, into each other’s arms in the rain, never to part again.
Except Shouyou is very much okay , miles away at their third annual Tokyo Training Camp, and he’s camped out behind the large dumpsters outside, while Maeko shows him this cute dog she saw on her run.
“ Aww ,” she coos. “Say it again.”
He laughs. Talking to Maeko, and being with her, just makes him feel airy. It’s always so fun.
“I miss you,” he says again, crowding his face up against the screen so she can look at the gorgeous sight right up his nose. “I miss you, I miss you, I-”
“Hinata?” A voice calls out behind him.
Shouyou whips around to- oh, god - see Lev, of all people to find him here- walking towards him with a Fukurodani second-year, their manager, and Inuoka.
“I’ll call you later,” he hisses into his phone, hitting the red X in the corner entirely too late.
“Oh? Oho? Ohoho?” Lev starts gleefully, walking towards him in long strides like the absolute monster he is. “Who was that, Hinata-kun?”
Inuoka giggles, trying to grab a hold of Hinata’s phone. “Who was that?” He cackles, in disgusting sync with Lev. “Who could that ever be?”
Fukurodani’s manager- Yuuki, he thinks?- cackles behind a hand, whipping out her phone to film the commotion. “Oy, Hinata,” she calls. “You good with me putting this on Insta?”
“What? No-” Lev’s crusty hand makes its way over Hinata’s face, and it’s all he can do to back away, phone still clutched in his unforgiving hand.
“Too late,” she says, pulling the phone down.
“Hey! What are you guys doing?” Ukai shouts, clearly suspicious, from the second story of the building. “No drug deals on training time.” He adds. Only on training time? They should talk about that later.
“Nothing,” Inuoka purrs, charming as ever. “Just seeing what Hinata-kun is up to-”
“Let the boy call his girlfriend in peace,” Ukai says flippantly. “Maybe then they wouldn’t be all up smoochin’ on the side of my damn store. Wait- Hinata! It was your turn to wash the towels- get up here-!” Ukai growls.
Shouyou yelps. “Yes sir!” He mock-salutes. Perfect situation to get out of this mess. Shouyou stalks off, staunchly ignoring Yuuki and Lev’s catcalls behind him. Tomorrow is going to be hell.
He needs to find a new place to call Maeko from.
-
Shouyou doesn’t think he’s ever been in love.
He loves things. He loves his mom, and his house, and biking and running and playing. He loves Natsu- the happiest day of his life will forever be the day she blinked up at him and babbled ‘Nii-chan’- and he loves his friends to the moon and back.
He loves the grass under his feet, he loves the sun, he loves popsicles and summer, and he loves warm meat buns and winter. He loves the old woman down the street who always lets him kneel down to play with her puppy, and he loves her puppy. He’ll never run out of it, no matter how much he deals out in packets.
He loves volleyball, with every breath in his lungs and every fiber in his being, so much so he’ll never ever ever ever ever let it go, not even when his legs no longer move.
That’s a fundamental part of him, probably. How much he just completely loves .
But. Being in love . He hears it’s different.
He supposes being in love is something like Tanaka and Kiyoko these days, just smitten with each other’s every move. Or maybe something along the lines of Ushijima and Tendou, all the way back in first year- able to understand each other with even the slightest of touches.
He likes Maeko. He loves her, definitely. He wants to talk to her and hang out with her and kiss her and sneak his hand up her leg and down her chest and hear her laugh and snort in the totally gross way she does. He wants her to love him back, that same way, in small amounts, in big gestures.
But being in love. It must be something else. Because when time is up, time is up, and they part ways easily. It's always fun to be around her. It’s always nice.
Being in love is probably along the way he feels when he's hanging out with Kageyama. Kageyama is a weird dude- sometimes they’ll just bark at each other, and fall over in snorts and cackles, up until they’re annoyed with the others happiness and they shove and pull at each other’s hair again. He doesn’t want to go when they are together. Not even when they spend every minute at each other’s throats.
I mean. It’s whatever, anyways. It’s not like he’s in love with Kageyama anyways. Dude is gross. He has Maeko- with her soft, warm, hugs and loud, welcoming laugh. Everyone thinks they are the cutest couple- they’re totally a match made in heaven. And they have the best chemistry. If this was an American school they would dance and win prom king and queen and ‘rule the school’ like Zac Efron. He probably loves her- loves her when they lay in the sun next to each other, loves her when she’s always touching him somewhere, loves her when she comes to his volleyball practices and watches him smack down a ball with Kageyama-
Yeah.
-
Right?
-
A common misconception is the simplicity of childhood and the complication of growing up. We get taller, leaner, meaner, lose the innocence of youth in the back of someone’s car, in the bathroom of a school- and we grow up. It’s all so much harder.
There’s an easy kind of joy with youth, being able to solve your problems with a clear, free mind. We grow up, and things like money and greed and image destroy us, cleanse us of that independence.
Shouyou is nearing eighteen, and sometimes he dreams about nothingness. About fading away into a little speck in someone’s mind, if anyone were to ever remember him.
His mother’s family name means sun, yet he feels like the ever-expanding black hole, cursed to suck everything into his life and never be able to spit it back out. In fact- maybe the black hole surrounds him, and that’s why he’s suffocating, and that’s why the pressure on his head is mind-numbing, crushing him into a compact block of Hinata Shouyou.
Suzumeda-san would probably be very disappointed. It’s his own fault- he’s been off his routine, he spends too long with Maeko and even longer drowning in everything he wants to do and everything he never will. He stares down at the imprints of his nails, etched bright-red and burning into his arms. He doesn’t even know how they got there.
Natsu goes crying to mama- he scared her, he’s scaring his little sister because he’s never going to get a fucking grip- and it’s like that first fresh step in Miyagi again but it hurts even more. Pity seeps from her, pity and regret and silent, steaming anger. He picks himself up but he doesn’t dust himself off. This is all too hard.
Kageyama stares at his arms on Wednesday, haphazardly bandaged.
“I thought you said the new ones were working.” He says.
Shouyou clicks his tongue. “They were. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me. My stupid brain and all.”
Kageyama tilts his head, furrowing his nose. “What? Don’t say that.”
His bike clicks as he walks it down the hill. He has the day off from work today- he should probably be with Maeko, maybe.
“That’s dumb to say. Literally you make no sense.” Kageyama mutters angrily, kicking the rocks as he walks like some type of upset toddler.
“Yeah, yeah,” Shouyou replies, shaking his head. “I heard this all before- anyways, you wanna come over? I found this website that’s so good for watching the new-”
“No. Like you can’t say that because it’s not you.” Kageyama continues on angrily. “Because like. If it’s you then it’s not very… you know? Because like. Since it’s not you it’s like,” he looks back lamely. “You’re like pssssh .”
Hinata giggles. “Kageyama,” he says. “I can’t believe you have a better Japanese grade than me,”
“You know what I mean!” Kageyama shouts, stopping dead.
“No, I really don’t. I didn’t understand whatever you just tried to say.”
“Whatever.” Kageyama crosses his arms. “I’m saying don’t ever say that again.” He glares at him. “Or I’ll beat you up.”
Shouyou rests the bike against his leg. His heart is beating embarrassingly fast right now. He can feel it behind his eyes.
“You’re kind of a simple guy, Kageyama-kun.” He finally gets out.
“ What the hell? You want to start something?”
-
This was probably the inevitable.
Natsu opens the door with a loud huff. “Hi.” She says, glaring up menacingly- as menacing as a ten year old can be- holding the wood door open with her foot.
“Hi Nacchan!” Yamaguchi says brightly, bending down to his knees. “How’s school-?”
“Don’t ask me about school.” She bites, nose curling up. “It’s stupid and I hate it.”
Yamaguchi laughs brightly, “You’re just like Hinata- ah, Shouyou, like that, huh?”
Natsu rolls her eyes. “As if,” she sniffs. “At least I can do math. I just don’t wanna.”
Tsukishima bellows. “Please,” he cackles.
Natsu steps aside, letting Yachi through the door. “Shou-chan is being dumb and annoying right now. He won’t even take me to the store right now and I really want chuupet.” She stomps her foot.
“Yeah,” Yamaguchi mutters with an eyeroll. “He’s in rough shape, right?”
They follow Yachi up the steps, Kageyama shuffling up the steps last. The ceilings are low and close to the ground- and Kageyama almost pisses himself laughing when Tsukishima bangs his head against the doorway, only for him to follow in the same exact motion.
They enter Shouyou’s room with the curtains closed, effectively leaving the room in utter darkness. Yachi kicks aside some dirty socks with a disgusted face.
“Yo. Hinata.” Tsukishima says. He nudges him with a frog figurine sitting on the bedside table beside him. “Get up.”
Shouyou groans. “Huh-” he blinks open, wearily, and startles, launching back into the wall with his arms up. “Intruders-! Oh.”
Shouyou rubs an arm over his eyes. “What are you guys doing here.” He says testily.
Yachi shakes open the curtains. “We’re here to get you!” She says brightly. “Just because there’s no practice doesn’t mean you can skip school, Shouyou.” She tuts.
Shouyou groans again, and flops down on the bed face-first. “Go away,” he moans.
Yamaguchi sits at the foot of his bed. “No!” He says cheerfully.
“You can’t make me!” Shouyou whines into the pillow.
Tsukishima looks at the dirty floor with a sneer. “C’mon, Hinata,” he says, “this is kind of pathetic.”
“Your mom is kind of pathetic.”
Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “Anyways. If you’re going to have a therapy appointment with Tadashi or something, let me know so I can go first. I just came to bring Takeda-san’s homework.”
Shouyou points to the overflowing trash can. “You can put it there.”
Yamaguchi pats the back of Shouyou’s thigh gently. “I get it, breakups are super hard, Hinata. Like, remember when Yachi broke up with Himari and we all had to go stop her from moving to Indonesia.”
“Can we not talk about that,” Yachi mutters.
“-but, even though Maeko probably crushed your heart into pieces because you both spent all your time together, and then she probably stomped on those pieces because she was kind of mean in a funny way, you have to, um. Keep going!” Yamaguchi finishes brightly.
Kageyama picks up a box of juice next to Shouyou’s hamper. “Is this expired?”
Yachi grinds her hands together. “That was kind of a terrible speech,” she whispers to Yamaguchi.
“Oh no , you think so?” He whispers back.
Shouyou kicks his feet back and forth on the bed. “You guys are all so annoying and I hate you!” He proclaims loudly.
Tsukishima looks bored. “Okay,” He takes a large stick- presumably something that fell off the deteriorating old pieces of wood Shouyou calls a desk- poking his stomach with it. “Am I annoying? Is this annoying?” He taunts.
Yachi claps her hands. “Shouyou!” She announces. “You need to get up right now because you look pretty lame.” Yamaguchi nods sadly.
“ So lame.”
Shouyou pounds his hands into the pillow. “No!” He says, stubbornly.
Yachi tries to yank the blanket off him- keyword, tries . Apparently, in two years he’s gained some weight and some muscle. She puffs, feet sliding as she wrestles the cloth from under his body. “Shouyou,” she tuts. “What the hell ,”
Kageyama’s straw in the expired juice box makes an empty noise, and he tosses it to the trash can on the other side of the room, where it bounces off onto the floor miserably. “They’re done cleaning the gym today,” he mentions, aloud.
Shouyou blinks an eye open suspiciously. “Really?”
Kageyama nods.
-
Yamaguchi sighs, keys clicking together as he opens the large gym doors. “I can’t believe you stayed in your room for four days, and this is all it took to drag you out.”
Shouyou jumps in pajama pants and a loose T-shirt, testing the stretch of the plaid pants. “You can’t believe it? If I were me and I had to get me out of bed, this is what Me would do.”
Yachi nods, thoughtful. “So true, Shou.”
Tsukishima throws his hands up in the air. “That’s not even a sentence ,”
Kageyama waltzes through the doors, pulling out the cart of balls easily. “You need to work on your overhand receives,” he says to Shouyou, rubbing his stomach with a face. “That juicebox was expired.” He mutters.
Yamaguchi places a hand over his face. “I told you,”
“Wait,” Tsukishima says, hands in his pockets. “Before that,” he fixes Shouyou with a squint. “Tell us everything.”
Shouyou groans, rubbing at the waistband of his pajamas. “You dragged me out of bed to relive my traumatic, depressing, evil , sad- “
“Yes.”
Kageyama spins a ball between his hands. “Not me. I don’t care.”
Yachi snorts behind her hand. “ Liar- “
“Shut up!” He hisses back.
Shouyou sits down with a groan. He motions for Kageyama to toss a ball over, catching with a hand easily.
“It’s beneficial to talk your feelings out,” Yamaguchi says, as if speaking straight out of an instruction manual.
Yachi kneels, nodding. “Very true Yama.” she adds. “Feelings are like, a lot. Like bwaaah .”
Shouyou tosses the ball up high. “So much bwaaah .”
Tsukishima taps his wrist. “I don’t have all day here.”
Shouyou sticks his tongue out with a pout. “I don’t even know what you want to hear! She dumped me right after we got back from the Inter-high nationals.” he catches the ball again, holding it against his chest, and throws his arm back dramatically. “And now,” he announces. “I shall never love again.”
“I know that ,” Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “I heard from Kunimi.”
“What the hell! How did Kunimi know?”
“Kunimi knows everything.” Tsukishima says offhandedly. “But like, why did she dump you.”
“Listen, Tsukki-“
“-don’t call me that-“
“-I know you liked Maeko because you’re both kind of demons, and weirdly hated by half the school, but I really would appreciate it if you took my side here,”
“Omg,” Yamaguchi says, just like that. Abbreviation and all. “Tsukki is trying to find out so he can see if he has to threaten anyone.”
“ Huh ?”
Yachi puts her head in her hands. “We want to know so we can know whether or not to steal all her juul pods,” Yachi says.
Shouyou blinks.
And immediately starts bawling.
“No,” Tsukishima looks supremely freaked out. “Um, don’t cry? What the fuck,” he looks helplessly at Yamaguchi.
‘I got this,’ Yamaguchi nods. He pats Shouyou on the back. “We are your friends. So even if Maeko broke up with you for good reasons we are going to wreck her shit,” he explains.
This only seems to make Shouyou’s weird sniffly sobs desper.
“I don’t know.” Yamaguchi announces.
“It-It’s okay,” Shouyou says between gasps. “You don’t- you don’t have to steal- steal anything,” he cries. “It was kind of complicated,” he settles, wiping away tears with the bottom of his oversized T-shirt. “Honestly, I think she’s probably as sad as I am,” he says, sniffing snot back up his nose.
“I feel like I should go,” Tsukishima grits. “I am incredibly uncomfortable.”
“No!” Shouyou says, rubbing his face. “You guys are right. I can’t sit in my room all day.”
Kageyama’s eyes shine. “Yes.” He says, somewhat proud. He stands up, rubbing his stomach again. “Let’s play.”
-
“Why?” Shouyou croaks, staring ahead at Maeko with a broken promise in his eyes.
“Why?” Maeko turns to him- and oh no, no, she’s crying too, and she shouldn’t be, Maeko should never cry- she’s beautiful and always so strong and happy and that’s not for her. “Why?! How could you-” her hand comes up over her mouth. “How could you ask that? Don’t you know?”
“Don’t I- I don’t even know what I did,” Shouyou surges forward, grabbing Maeko’s hands, covering her gloved hands with his own. Blue- the color of Tobio’s eyes. “Aren’t you happy?”
“I was.” Maeko says, glaring. “I was, but you aren’t and you’re never going to be, right?”
“What?” Shouyou’s throat is dry.
Maeko sighs heavily, and she plops down into the snow with finality. “You really don’t know?” She says, sounding defeated.
“I-”
“I think I love you.” Maeko says carefully. “But I know,” she bites her lip. “I know you don’t.”
Shouyou stares at her, mouth unmoving.
“You have your person,” Maeko says spitefully. “It’s okay. I hope you guys- I don’t actually. But.” And she stands up, scarf flying behind her. “I just wanted to say goodbye. I’ll always love you.”
-
He doesn’t mean to show up here.
Nonetheless, Shouyou’s eyes glitter as he looks down upon a single, unmarked grave, right in the middle of Miyagi Public Cemetery. Mama had insisted they’d be rid of him- and they refused to bury him under the family name- but she had still footed the medical bill, and he’d helped her, running delivery on his bike in the summer. Maybe you’re never actually rid of the people in your life like that.
He’s never been to visit. Some random person had put the marker in. Takashi’s ashes are probably in the ground right now- or maybe mama, sick with the joke of sentimentality, had taken that weekend to sprinkle them back in Nobayu.
It makes sense they left his grave unmarked. He’s never done anything good for us. He’s never done anything good for us.
Shouyou repeats it like a prayer.
“Hinata?” A surprised voice says behind him. Shouyou spins around- fixed with black hair and blue eyes. His heart sings a little.
“Kageyama?” He says, rubbing the side of his arm. “What the heck, stalking me now?” He jokes, stepping into his personal bubble. Kageyama is carrying a basket with him, and a cloth tucked under one arm.
Kageyama’s lip curls, and he looks away, eyes shining with something unseen. “Dumbass. I’m here visiting my grandpa.” He nods to the left.
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Shouyou says, awkward.
“It’s okay.” Kageyama’s eyes look stormy. “Who’s this?”
Shouyou looks behind him, at the unmarked stone. He looks back at Kageyama. Dr. Suzumeda told him the first step in recovery is trust.
“That’s my dad.” Shouyou offers no elaboration. Kageyama’s eyes widen a fraction.
“Oh.” He says. “Uh. Wanna meet my grandpa?”
And that’s how, on a Wednesday afternoon, Shouyou finds himself sitting beside Kageyama Tobio on a plaid cloth in a graveyard. His hand itches- he kind of wants Kageyama’s in it.
“Hi, Kageyama-san,” he says, bowing towards the marker. “I’m Hinata Shouyou.”
Kageyama- or Tobio, now, with another so close- hands him a plastic bottle of water. “Grandpa played volleyball too,” he says conversationally, “he was actually the Kitagawa-Daiichi coach until he retired.”
Tobio smiles, dry and wistful. “I can’t believe this is going to be our last nationals.” He stares off, and then blinks himself back, looking at the grave once again.
He hands Hinata a sandwich, digging into his own. “He kind of raised me because mom and dad were always on business trips. Miwa too.”
Shouyou nods, eyebrows raising- for all he knows about Kageyama, the things that get him annoyed, the exact way he shuts down when he’s really in the zone- he’s never heard him talk about much outside volleyball and the two of them.
“Yeah. I had to talk to the counselor at the school for a bit, but they got over my moods and I had to just deal with it.”
Shouyou tilts his head, sympathetic frown forming over his lips. “Kage- Tobio ,” he says, catching the way Tobio’s face colors. “You know that’s not right, yeah?”
Tobio’s lips purse. “Of course.” He says. “ Whatever , though,” he continues. “I mean- it was a long time ago, and I think I learned to deal with it. Or something.”
Shouyou feels a soft smile paint his face. “Yeah. I think you did.” He pokes his stomach playfully, and Kageyama grabs his arm with a twist. “That’s why you were crazyama in middle school, huh?” He laughs.
“Shut up,” Tobio says, words missing the heat that should be behind them.
Shouyou laughs again, turning back towards the grave. “Kageyama-san,” he says very seriously. “Didja know your grandson is,” he pauses, for drama. “Dumb as fuck?”
“Shut up !”
Tobio drops him to the ground with a shove, and Shouyou lays there, taking another bite of his sandwich. His hand comes to rest above his eyebrows- and his shirt rides up. Kageyama is looking, probably.
They sit in comfortable silence like that, which is funny- two of the loudest, most boisterous people on the team, only calm when they are with each other. It must be some kind of beautiful irony.
“Can I ask you something?” Tobio says, breaking the loose ties of peace in Shouyou’s mind. He should be more annoyed- but he can’t be. It’s Tobio, after all.
“Shoot,” he says carefully, around the last piece of white bread.
“Why,” Tobio hesitates. That’s weird. It’s unlike him- Tobio is always one to do everything so surely and loudly. He never says words he doesn’t mean. “Why is your father’s grave unmarked?”
Ah, yes. There it is.
He ought to have expected it sooner, really- Tobio has known about his therapy appointments and his med rotations since before anyone else. It’s a miracle Takeda-san and Ukai haven’t taken him aside since that one day last year, either, for a completely awkward but probably necessary conversation.
Everyone on the team had been wonderful. Nothing but amazing- something that leaves a salty taste in his mouth. He’d like a bit more resistance- but they get along without him, and he gets along without them. Somewhat.
But Tobio had never asked the question that lives on Shouyou’s mind, still, to this day.
Why?
“He was a fuck- he sucked,” Shouyou bites, looking anywhere but Kageyama. The words leave his tongue quickly, falling out like heavy rain. “He left us to rot back before we moved here. I- I don’t know.”
Shouyou sits up, the sudden movement having Tobio moving back quickly. “I- I was never supposed to come see him here. He always, uh,” Shouyou taps the side of his head. “When I sleep. I always see him. Even when I’m awake, sometimes. That’s what all that. Stuff . Is for.”
Tobio stays silent, the only acknowledgement he’s even hearing any of this being the rustle as he nods his head.
Shouyou laughs, hollow. “Yeah. I shouldn’t even be here. I don’t care about him.” Shouyou snaps his head up. “No. I hate him. I do. I hate him so much .”
It’s everything he’s ever wanted to say- the truth . Right? The words that haunt him when his own orange hair is too familiar in the mirror. So why does it leave him aching, like his stomach has been scooped out and his body is weightless?
“It’s-” Shouyou sniffles, suddenly hyper aware of where he is, who he’s talking to. “It’s nothing,” he tries to laugh. “I shouldn’t-”
Tobio’s hand comes up to cup the side of Shouyou’s face, thumb gently wiping a tear that had yet to fall from his waterline. His hand is warm- it’s funny, Shouyou is the warm one- so warm, and it seems to suck all the cold from his pink cheek into Tobio’s palm.
Tobio blinks, like he wasn’t even aware of his own movements. He starts to pull away, but Shouyou is fast, so fast, and his hand darts out to hold Tobio’s hand where it is, keeping it steady against his cheek.
“Tobio,” he says again, as if testing the word for the first time. His voice is thick with unshed tears- he thinks if he doesn’t move closer, the dam will break once again. So he does, his knees bracketing Tobio’s legs.
Tobio looks down at him. He’s so close- his gloves really are the same color as Tobio’s eyes. Did they do that on purpose? He should find out- later though, not now, when his hand cups Tobio’s neck and his breath is hot on his face and smells like cucumber sandwiches.
Things were always simpler with him.
-
What makes you, little crow? Despite the plucking of the feathers from your wings, the current moving against you, pushing you into the wall and holding you back, keeping you from your dream. What keeps you keeping on? Why do you continue to flap your pathetic wings, beady eyes looking straight on?
Is it just an empty promise?
-
Yes. The promise of more .
-
The two of them- lovers, friends, enemies, strangers- will take what time they can get. Tobio had known, secretly, that Shouyou would leave Japan- if not now, soon. This country was never big enough to contain what he wanted to be. And Tobio always knew he’d stay here, pursuing his own dreams in the way he knew he could succeed.
They take third place overall at Spring Nationals. He still remembers the salty scream Sugawara-san, who had been watching from the sidelines- basically illegally, but you won’t tell,- had let loose when Shouyou managed a left handed spike after his dig. It’s a bitter loss, but a win, still. Fallen crows no more.
Shouyou still dreams. Shouyou still sees flashes of his childhood, flipping before his eyes like a movie, at the smallest provocations. But he stays diligent, and he stays focused, and he has his friends to help. Maybe it’s childish to believe these things can do any damage to a neurological disorder. Or perhaps it’s just the truth.
On the days before Shouyou leaves for Brazil, he sits on the damp concrete outside with Mama. She’s down half a pack a day now. It probably won’t last.
“Shou-kun,” she says, a smile dancing on her features. Still so youthful, even with the years of the stress and cigarettes. “You’re really flying the nest soon, huh?” She says, looking up to the stars.
He takes a seat beside her. Some things never change- and he folds into her side easily, even though he’s almost 5’7 now, and probably has about 40 pounds of muscle on her.
“Just yesterday they pulled you out of me, kicking and screaming,” she says wistfully, pinching Shouyou’s nose as he wrinkles it at her description.
“I told you, right?” She says, rubbing his soft hair and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “That I always knew you’d be a star,” she sighs, taking another hit off the cigarette in her hand, smoke blowing through the light breeze. “When your name is on billboards, make sure you remember your old mama, okay?”
“Ma,” Shouyou whines, moving closer to her side. “Don’t be so weird.”
“No. You can’t stop me,” she smiles, wrapping an arm around him. “I’m so proud of you, you know? So, so proud. No matter what.”
-
On the top of the world, Shouyou stands, head raised to the clouds, Brazil sun kissing his skin like the soft touch of a woman.
There are few things you know as a child. And you could argue- even fewer you know as an adult. He knows he is in Brazil. He thinks he is alone, but he knows he isn’t. He thinks he still has a lot to work through- the images that flash through his head like they’re not his, but they are- He thinks there are the things like the determination that aches in his weary bones, after two, three shifts, trying to make enough to send home. He thinks there is now sand between his toes almost perpetually, and he knows the tan he’s got from the years here is sure to never leave, even if he moved to a world where the sun never shined.
But we know what we see.
And today, Shouyou sees a world glimmering with the tan sun, waiting for him. Because no matter it all, no matter what he’s done and what he will do- who he’s seen and who he never will, not again- he’s going to change it. He’s going to make it his own. He’s going to make it something more.
And they aren’t ready for him.
-
Slam it down.