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It’s 2:37 on a Tuesday morning, and Yachi Hitoka is pretty sure she’s dying.
“Sorry, I know it’s 2:37 on a Tuesday morning, Hinata,” she hisses frantically into her phone, “I’m so sorry, but I’m pretty sure I’m dying.”
“... Yacchan? Is that you?” Hinata mumbles, his voice rough and words slurred with sleep.
“Yes! It’s me. I’m sorry.”
“It’s al—” Hinata pauses in the middle of his word to yawn, and Hitoka feels biting shame creep up her spine. She twists her shaking fingers into the heavy blankets pooled in her lap and tries to breathe through the panic that’s coiling in her stomach and making her heart pound until she feels like it’s going to explode inside her chest. “It’s alright, Yachi! What’s the—”
“I’m sorry!” she screeches, then claps a hand over her mouth when she remembers how ridiculously early it is and how ridiculously late her mother got home from work last night. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers this time. “Never mind, Hinata, I’m just—I’m being silly. It can wait until tomorrow.”
Hinata makes a thoughtful noise. “But Yacchan, if you’re calling me, I’m sure you have a good reason.”
“Y-you think so?”
“Yeah! You hate phone calls,” Hinata says, in a tone of voice that implies that this is such a well-known fact, even Kageyama has his suspicions about it. It’s a tone of voice he uses a lot. Hitoka thinks he got it from Tsukishima. “They make you nervous, so you always text instead. So if you’re calling, it’s probably an emergency. What’s the problem?”
The cold dread that’s been building in Hitoka’s stomach since the second she woke up is, for a brief moment, washed away by a wave of warm affection. For someone with such a tirelessly one-track mind, Hinata is surprisingly observant when it comes to his friends. It steadies her hands and slows her heart a little, to know that someone thinks about her enough, to notice something so small and insignificant.
But then Hinata hums curiously, and Hitoka remembers that she hasn’t answered his question, and then she remembers what exactly the problem is, and the wave of warmth is swiftly replaced by a crushing tsunami of mortification.
Hitoka moans pitifully, and Hinata sucks in a sharp breath. “You’re not… actually dying, are you?”
“Oh, no! No, I’m just—no. I’m okay.” She is the opposite of okay. She feels like she might be going into cardiac arrest. “Well. I’m okay, you know, health-wise. I think.”
Hinata breathes out a sigh. “Oh, geez. You scared me!”
“Sorry.” She bows her head in apology, and quickly straightens when she realises that he can’t actually see her.
“It’s okay! But you still haven’t told me what’s up.”
“Yes! I mean no, I haven’t. But I will. Right now.” Hinata waits quietly, uncharacteristically patient. Hitoka shuffles her thickly-socked feet together. “I—well, I had—” She clears her throat. “I had a… a dream.”
Hinata continues to be silent, but this time Hitoka imagines that he’s probably tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy. “Like... a bad dream?” Now, that’s a good question. Hitoka makes an unsure noise, but Hinata plows on anyway. “When Natsu has bad dreams, she sometimes comes into my room to sleep. Do you want me to come over to your house?” Hitoka can already hear the shuffling sounds of him jumping out of bed and wrenching his door open.
“No, Hinata! You can’t come over! It’s—” She checks the time. “It’s 2:39 on a Tuesday morning! You’ll—you’ll wake your family!”
“It’s okay! We Hinatas can sleep through almost anything. One time half the kitchen burnt down because I accidentally left some noodles on the stove all night and everyone slept through the smoke alarm. The only reason the whole house didn’t burn down is because I noticed it when I got up to pee.” Hinata says this all with immense pride, as if forgetting that he was the one to cause the problem in the first place.
“You—it wasn’t a bad dream, Hinata-kun.” Debatable, really. It was certainly good while it was happening, but thinking about it now makes Hitoka feel like she might vomit up all of her insides.
“Oh. Was it a cool dream? Did you call to tell me about it?” He gasps, delighted. “Was I in it?”
“N-no.”
“Oh. Well, what was it?”
“It was…” Hitoka feels very much like her face is going to melt off in embarrassment. For a brief moment, she seriously considers hanging up and then maybe jumping out the window and running as far away as possible to live alone at the bottom of the ocean. But instead, summoning every last scrap of courage within her, she bites her lip, takes a deep, deep breath, and whispers, “It was a sexy dream.”
She is met with utter silence. Every last aforementioned scrap of courage within her promptly flees for greener, braver pastures. She feels itchy all over, but can’t seem to bring herself to move.
After what seems like a million years but was likely about five seconds, Hinata makes a very strange sound, then clears his throat. He giggles breathlessly, then clears his throat again. “A sexy dream?” he murmurs, with a strange mix of reverence and utter glee. Hitoka feels almost as flustered as she was when she woke up, but at least she can breathe again.
“Yes,” she groans.
He hums, high and joyful. “Yacchan, that’s—” He stops suddenly. “... Was I in it?” he asks carefully.
She very nearly screeches again, but thankfully manages to hold herself back. “No! Oh my god, no.”
He lets out a huge sigh, and Hitoka can hear springs creak as he throws himself onto his bed. “Oh, thank god. That would be embarrassing.”
“It’s still embarrassing,” she grumbles.
Hinata giggles again, but it doesn’t feel like he’s making fun of her. More like he’s just so tickled by the very concept of a sexy dream that he can’t contain his laughter. “So, who was it about?”
“W-well…” Talking about it is conjuring the images back into her mind, the hands and the hair and the heat, and she buries her head into her arms like that will help her hide from her traitorous brain.
“Was it someone on the team?”
“Uh… sort of...”
“Was it Yamaguchi? Tanaka-san? Nishinoya-san? Ennoshita-san? Narita-san? Kinoshita-san?” He gasps in abject horror. “Was it Tsukishima?” Hitoka thinks that Hinata might just be as dogged and relentless with interrogating his friends for the sordid details of their love lives as he is in all important aspects of his life. Or, what he considers important, anyway. She takes a brief hiatus from her overwhelming distress to lament his recent English test scores.
“No, it… it wasn’t any of them.”
“Come on then, who was it? That’s why you called me, right? To tell me who you had a sexy dream about?”
“Ugh, yes, okay!” Hitoka slaps a hand over her burning cheek and tries very hard not to scream. “It was… it was about Kiyoko-san.”
“Kiy—oh.”
“Yes.” She desperately wants to say something more articulate, but her rapidly closing vocal cords apparently disagree.
“Kiyoko-san? Like, our old manager Shimizu Kiyoko-san?”
His uncertainty makes the urge to defend herself rise up in her throat like bile, but she swallows it down. Hinata has strong opinions about exactly three things in life, she reasons—volleyball, food, and his volleyball team (so, really, two things, but she’s a generous person). He won’t hate her for liking girls. And besides, there’s nothing to defend. Hitoka’s overwhelming lesbianism is wonderful and not wrong at all and really perfectly natural actually, and also not the problem here. “Mhmm,” she manages.
Hitoka lets him stew in contemplative silence for a few moments, mostly because she’s proud and impressed, underneath all the panic, that he’s even taking the time to think about the issue. “Sorry, Yacchan, I don’t really get why this is a problem.”
Or not. “What—what do you mean?”
She can somehow hear Hinata’s helpless shrug through the phone. “It just sounds like you have a crush on her.”
“I—yes! Exactly!”
“But everyone has a bit of a crush on Shimizu-san, Yacchan,” he points out reasonably. “It’s not a big deal.”
“This isn’t a bit of a crush, Hinata. This is a huge, enormous, monster of a crush.”
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
“... I still don’t see the problem?” he asks, sounding very, very lost.
In the face of another teammate’s hopelessness, Hitoka feels a familiar rush of sudden competence possess her like a friendly and very capable demon, and suddenly she knows exactly how to handle the situation. “Shouyou, if you had a sexy dream about your cool, beautiful, amazing friend, and it made you realise that you kind of want to run your hands through their dark, silky hair and stare into their gorgeous eyes and bask in the warmth of their smile for the rest of eternity, and then that made you realise that you have a huge crush on them, and most probably have for a very long time, wouldn’t you think it was a problem?”
Hinata splutters inelegantly. “W-well—I, um! Uh! Um!” He is becoming increasingly high-pitched as he continues trying to form a coherent sentence, and continues failing miserably. Good, Hitoka thinks, now we’re on the same terrible, mortifying page. “Uhh, yeah? I, I guess?”
“Exactly,” she says with no small amount of satisfaction.
“Okay! Okay. So, this is a big problem,” Hinata concedes, finally.
“It is,” Hitoka agrees.
“Well.” Hinata seems to be at a loss for words, which isn’t exactly uncommon, but he also seems to be at a loss for weird, incomprehensible noises, which is truly astounding.
“Well? What do you think?”
“Well... I’m not really sure why you came to me with this, Hitoka-chan! I’ve never dated a girl before. Or—or anyone else, either.” He mumbles the last part, and Hitoka feels like she might be missing something. She must have temporarily blacked out from the earlier surge of confidence. It happens sometimes. “I wish I knew what to do! But I don’t know the first thing about confessing to someone.”
“Confessing?” she shrieks, then covers her mouth again. Somehow that had not occurred to her as even a remote possibility. Even thinking about it makes her want to regurgitate her organs.
“I mean, I don’t know much, but I know that, at least! When you like someone, you confess to them!”
“But—but! But how do I do that?”
“I don’t know, Yacchan!” Hinata sounds almost as distressed as she feels. “I’ve never really thought about this before now!”
Hitoka runs a hand through her bedhead. “Of course not.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more,” he says mournfully.
“No, it’s okay, Hinata. You’ve helped plenty. I feel better already.” And she does, too. She still feels strange and flustered and panicky, and her fingers still tremble very slightly as she fiddles with her pyjamas, but she’s not nearly as overwhelmed as she had been when she’d woken up.
She’s come to learn a few things about herself this past year, and one of them is this: whipping other people into shape (gently, and with the utmost love, of course) is her favourite way of destressing. Nothing calms her down more than the idea that someone else is a little bit more tragic than she is, and she has the ability to help them out. That’s probably why she called Hinata in the first place—he’s just about the most tragic person she knows, maybe tied with Kageyama, though she says this with nothing but fondness. “I certainly don’t feel like I’m dying anymore.”
“Well, that’s good! I’m glad I could make you feel better!” he chirps, and Hitoka feels warm affection bubble up inside her and spill over as a breathy laugh and a genuine, unguarded smile.
“Yes, thank you, Hinata-kun. You really are a wonderful friend.”
She’s sure that makes him puff out his chest with pride. “The best friend! Better than Kageyama, aren’t I?”
Hitoka sighs. “You’re both good friends, Hinata.”
“But I’m better,” he mutters. That’s his pouting voice. Hinata is definitely pouting. And he’s definitely going to come up with some kind of ridiculous competition to prove how much better he is at being a friend than Kageyama is tomorrow. Hitoka will have to make sure the first aid kit is stocked with enough aspirin to get Coach Ukai and Ennoshita through the day.
She groans a little when she quickly checks the time on her phone. Quarter to three. She’s probably going to struggle waking up for morning practice at this rate. “Okay, Hinata, we should definitely both be asleep right now. I—I’m so sorry for disturbing you. And thank you for listening.”
“It’s no problem at all, Hitoka-chan!”
“Goodnight. See you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight!”
Just as she’s about to end the call, a muffled shout comes from her phone. “Oh, hey! Yacchan, wait! I just had an awesome idea!” she hears Hinata say, and she puts the phone cautiously back to her ear.
“Yes?”
“You should ask the senpais! Tanaka-san and Noya-san will know exactly what to do.”
“Oh! Uh...” Hitoka’s not sure how awesome that idea really is, but she supposes it’s worth a shot. “Thank you, Hinata. I’ll try that tomorrow.”
*
Tanaka and Nishinoya do not know exactly what to do. They are most unhelpful. When she tells them about her realisation (minus the sexy parts—she doesn’t want their heads to explode), their faces move, in frightening tandem, from confusion, to shock, to awkwardness, to a kind of divine understanding that transcends this plane of existence.
“Ah, Yacchan. You’ve seen the light,” Nishinoya says knowledgeably.
Tanaka leans in close to stare meaningfully into Hitoka’s eyes. She leans as far backwards as her spine will possibly allow her. “It’s only people like us,” he tells her, like it’s a secret of the universe, “people who have known what it is to adore a woman so beautiful as Shimizu Kiyoko, who can achieve true inner peace.”
“O-okay…” she says, carefully extricating herself from a truly gymnastic backbend and putting some much-needed distance between herself and the two boys, who are slowly approaching her with a crazed zeal in their eyes usually reserved for Mormons, and Hinata when he’s been handed a volleyball. “But what do you think I should do?” The boys stop to look at each other, brows furrowed.
“Well, there’s only one thing you can do, Yacchan,” Nishinoya says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“And… what’s that?”
“Admire her from afar, of course! Worship the ground she walks upon!” Tanaka shouts.
“Treat her as the untouchable goddess she truly is!” Nishinoya gesticulates so wildly he almost punches Tanaka in the nose. Tanaka screams indignantly and goes for Noya’s hair, which is, of course, a grave mistake. Trying to avoid their flailing arms, Hitoka throws a pleading look at the rest of the team, praying for rescue. Kageyama is single-mindedly practising his jump serve, Narita is looking bewildered from where he’s leading the first years in a stretching exercise, and Tsukishima, who’s just arrived with Yamaguchi, looks like he’s moments away from walking right back out the door. Hinata just gives her an enthusiastic thumbs up.
This was a very bad idea.
“Ryuu! Noya!” They freeze in place. There are few things in this world that can stop Tanaka and Nishinoya from being their terrible selves, but Ennoshita’s infamous Captain Face is one of them. His expression is mostly blank, but there is an untold rage that stirs in his eyes. Hitoka knows at least ten people who live in fear of that look. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Yacchan has a crush on—” Tanaka starts, but Nishinoya slaps a hand over his mouth before he can finish.
“You can’t just tell everyone, Ryuu!” he hisses. “Yachi has trusted us with her secret, and it’s our duty to keep it safe!” This would be a very nice and thoughtful sentiment, had Nishinoya himself not been shouting it to the rooftops just moments before. Still, Tanaka’s eyes widen and he nods gravely. She appreciates their wholehearted attempt at subtlety, given how difficult it must be for them.
“You wouldn’t happen to be harassing our poor manager, would you? No? Well, I’m glad. Because if you are, I might just have to have you two sit out for today’s practices.” He strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll even make you clean the storage room, while you think about what you’ve done wrong.”
“Chikara, no! We were trying to help her out!” Nishinoya wails from his perch on Tanaka’s back.
“She needed our love advice!” Tanaka manages around his mouthful of Nishinoya’s hand.
Ennoshita narrows his eyes and purses his lips. Finally, he sighs. “If you two truly want to help Yachi, you should get over here and join the rest of us in a warm up, and never attempt to give her another word of advice for as long as you both live.” He turns his gaze to her, and his eyes soften. “Yachi, I recommend you erase everything they’ve told you from your mind immediately.”
Nishinoya climbs off Tanaka’s back and salutes her solemnly in farewell, but as Tanaka goes to join the team, he hesitates. “Hey, Yacchan,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “I know it’s Kiyoko-san we’re talking about, and all, but… I think, uh. I think if you like someone, you should tell them.”
Hitoka blinks in surprise. “Oh! Well, thank you, Tanaka-san, but…” She tugs on a stray strand of hair. “How—how do you confess to someone?”
Tanaka groans. “I haven’t gotten that far yet, Yacchan! Just—” He throws a glance over his shoulder at Ennoshita with a hunted look in his eyes. “I don’t know if she’ll return your feelings, but. She was always smiling around you and trying to make you laugh and all that stuff and—yeah, I dunno. I just think it’s worth a shot.” He grins and shrugs at her. “And if she doesn’t, you can join us in pining from afar! It’s super great, I promise. Sometimes we have club meetings when Tora’s in town.”
Hitoka places her hands on her cheeks as if it will stop them from burning. She closes her eyes and tries very hard not to think about what Tanaka just told her, lest she overanalyse every interaction she and Kiyoko have ever had and give herself false hope, and also probably a premature heart attack.
“Ryuunosuke! What did I just say?” Ennoshita shouts. “I will not hesitate to have Hinata replace you as wing spiker if I don’t see you running within the next three seconds!” Tanaka shrieks and takes off like a shot. Hitoka has long since hidden her face in her hands, but thinks she can hear Hinata bemoan his disappointment, then yelp loudly as Kageyama smacks him upside the head and tells him he has to stop whining and keep running if he ever wants to be ace, dumbass.
She turns to where the practice notes she made yesterday are sitting on the bench. They’re neat and very comprehensible, like her notes always are when she isn’t having a crisis of unimaginable proportions. They seem to taunt her now. Look at how well-put together you can be, they whisper menacingly, when you’re not being a total disaster.
Someone clears their throat behind her.
“Sorry about all… that,” Ennoshita says, waving a hand in the other third years’ direction, where they are currently piggybacking the first years and yelling something about ‘strength training’. He sighs. “Sometimes I doubt my decision to make Ryuu vice captain.”
“I think it was a good decision,” Hitoka says. He looks at her with raised eyebrows. “He’s definitely, uh…” She tries to think of a nice way to put it. “He’s definitely rowdy, but he cares about the team. And he’s good at getting everyone else fired up, too.”
Ennoshita rolls his eyes, but Hitoka catches the fond smile on his lips. “He certainly keeps things interesting. Anyway,” he says, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation, and… I just wanted to tell you that we’re keeping in contact with the old third years. Noya’s been bugging Asahi non-stop to get the others to come back for winter break. And it looks like they’re up for it.”
“Oh.” Hitoka thinks she knows what Ennoshita is trying to imply, and it does not bode well for the state of her heart. “Uh, does that include Kiyoko-san, as well?”
He squeezes her shoulder, soft and sure, and she feels the knot in her chest ease up, just a little. His presence reminds her of Sawamura, somehow. It must be a captain thing. “Yep. Apparently she’s very excited to see everyone again.”
“Excited to see one person in particular,” Kinoshita mutters as he jogs by them. Narita nudges him hard in the stomach, which makes him double over.
Ennoshita pinches the bridge of his nose, and gratefully accepts the aspirin Hitoka hands him. “I’ve got to go start practice now. Tell me if you ever need someone to talk to. I’m always here to help.” He gives her one last smile, and, to Hitoka’s horror, swallows the pills dry, then turns around and gives his friends an imperious look, as if daring them to question his authority. They hold their hands up in surrender, and together they round up the rest of the team to start on today’s drills.
*
Nishinoya (10:17)
heyy there yachi-san!!! idk if u know this but kiyoko-sans phone broke a couple of weeks ago and shes only just getting all her contacts back
her new number is XXX-XXXX
and before u ask asahi gave it to me WIHT HER PERMISSION im not a stalker thank u very MUCH
Me (10:20)
Thank you so much Nishinoya-san!!
Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re a stalker
Nishinoya (10:21)
just puttin it out there since hisashis convinced ive been creeping on her so im not taking any chances
oh thank u yachi-san u angel!!!
pls tell hisashi that!!
Me (10:22)
I’ll be sure to do it tomorrow
Thank you again!!
Nishinoya (10:23)
go get her girl
give her a kiss from me ;))
Hitoka is going to pass out, right now, at her desk, on top of all her Japanese Literature homework.
She painstakingly punches in the number Nishinoya gave her, then stares at it for what feels like an hour but is really only a couple of minutes. She starts a message, then deletes it all, then starts it again, and deletes it again, and over and over until she’s reasonably satisfied with the end product. After dithering for another few minutes, she finally plucks up the courage to send it.
She waits, returns to her homework, finds she cannot for the life of her concentrate on it, seriously considers throwing her phone out the window so she never has to find out whether or not there was a reply, decides against it, waits some more, and prays it wasn’t all a big prank.
Me (10:44)
Hello, is this Shimizu Kiyoko?
XXX-XXXX (10:54)
who is this?
Me (10:55)
It’s Yachi Hitoka from Karasuno
XXX-XXXX (10:56)
Hitoka-chan! (｡◝‿◜｡)
I’m sorry if I haven’t replied to any texts recently, my old phone broke and I only just got a new one.
I’ve been really busy, too.
Me (10:58)
Yeah, Nishinoya-san told me
How did your business exam go? That was on Wednesday wasn’t it?
Kiyoko-san (11:00)
it went very well, thank you! I can’t believe you remembered that. ♡´･ᴗ･`♡
university exams are even more challenging than high school, so I haven’t had much free time between classes and studying.
but it’s very interesting, so I don’t mind too much.
how is school for you? you mentioned that you were finding maths a little more difficult lately.
Me (11:03)
It’s good, thanks!! I’ve been having a bit of trouble with calculus recently, but Tsukishima-kun has very kindly been helping me out with it.
Kiyoko-san (11:04)
that’s good to hear. I’m glad Tsukishima-kun is branching out these days.
Me (11:05)
Oh I know!! I was super scared to ask him for help but Yamaguchi kept insisting that I ask him and now we all study together twice every week!!!
Monday and Thursday lunches are the only times Tsukishima-kun will tolerate both Kageyama-kun and Hinata together in an academic context.
Kiyoko-san (11:07)
I can only imagine how terrifying it was. you have my respect and admiration for following through. (☆^ー^☆)
I am very proud of his progress.
Me (11:09)
Me too! I’ll let him know you said that but I’m not sure if he’ll appreciate it?
Kiyoko-san (11:09)
I think he will, in his own stoic and purposely aloof way. ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ
is the rest of the team doing okay?
I watched your games at the Spring High Preliminaries! everyone did so well, I wish I could have been there.
Me (11:12)
Yeah, they’re starting to work more cohesively than at the Interhigh Prelims. I think they were still trying to get their bearings after you guys left and the new first years came in.
Did you see Tanaka-kun’s amazing wipe in the third set against Seijou? He’s been working to catch up to Azumane-san’s power.
Kiyoko-san (11:13)
I did see it! I was very impressed.
Me (11:13)
I would pass along that message too, if I didn’t think it would make him implode.
Kiyoko-san (11:14)
I trust you to ensure our ace’s safety.
I also noticed Ennoshita-kun’s receives have improved greatly.
and I hear Kinoshita-kun has perfected his jump float serve! you’ve all been working so hard.
Me (11:16)
They’re all progressing really well.
Kiyoko-san (11:17)
I think you’ve been progressing, too, Hitoka-chan.
Me (11:19)
Ha, I don’t know about that!
Kiyoko-san (11:20)
well, you know the rules of the game now!
Me (11:23)
I think that’s probably the minimum requirement for a manager of a volleyball team, haha!
Kiyoko-san (11:24)
you’re just as much a part of the team as the players, Hitoka-chan.
remember that you’re fighting with them, too. and you’re doing an amazing job at it, from what I can tell.
it’s been a pleasure watching you come so far in such a short amount of time.
Kiyoko-san (11:29)
Hitoka-chan?
Me (11:36)
Sorry!!
I was just wondering if you were coming down to visit during winter break?
Kiyoko-san (11:36)
I’ll definitely be there! I’m still figuring out the specifics with the boys, but we’re thinking we’ll all be able to come down for the 26th.
I’m very excited to see everyone again.
Me (11:39)
We’re excited to see you too
Kiyoko-san (11:41)
it’s getting very late, I’d better go to bed.
and you should, too!
Me (11:42)
Of course!!
See you soon, Kiyoko-san.
Kiyoko-san (11:43)
see you, Hitoka-chan. (ᴗ˳ᴗ)…zzzZZZ
*
Hinata and Kageyama find Hitoka the next day at lunch, having not moved since the bell rang, with her head planted firmly on her desk. She only looks up from her pity party when she hears Kageyama hum with interest, studying the doodles she’d unconsciously drawn in her notebook instead of actual notes. They’re mostly hearts, and flowers, and Kiyoko’s face, and lots of frantic scribbles over Kiyoko's face from when she’d realised what her awful brain was subconsciously making her do.
“You’re a good drawer,” Kageyama tells her, leaning forward to look closer when Hitoka tries to cover the pictures with her hands. He’s been working on his compliments lately, and everyone is very proud of him.
Hinata whacks him on the shoulder. “Obviously, idiot! She makes all our posters for the club, haven’t you seen them?”
Kageyama hits him back, hard enough to make him whine. “Of course I have, moron. But it really looks like Shimizu-san. She even got the mole in the right place and the same glasses and everything.”
“Aha, thank you, but it’s not that good.” Hitoka fiddles with her hairclip and decides not to mention that the picture looks so close to reality because she’s spent a good chunk of her time staring at Kiyoko and wondering how such a physically perfect person could possibly exist.
Anyway, no drawing Hitoka does could ever capture exactly how the light makes Kiyoko’s eyes shine, or the way her nose crinkles just a tiny bit when she’s trying not to laugh, or the way pink dusts her cheeks when she has to talk in front of a lot of people. Hitoka would gladly look at Kiyoko for the rest of her life, if it meant she could somehow translate all those things to paper. She would gladly look at her for the rest of her life for no reason at all.
Oh god, she’s ridiculous. She stares morosely at her desk, contemplating whether or not banging her forehead against it would knock her out and, hopefully, snap her out of this lovesick funk.
“Yacchan?” Hinata knocks on the desk next to her ear lightly. “You okay?”
Hitoka sits up and shakes her head as if to clear it of all these embarrassing thoughts. “Yes! I’m okay. I’m fine,” she says, unconvincingly.
Hinata looks skeptical, but shrugs it off. “If you’re sure! You joining us for lunch?”
Despite her reluctance to move, possibly ever again, Hitoka agrees. Maybe some fresh air will get her out of this funk she’s in.
As it turns out, eating lunch underneath the tree in the courtyard does do her some good. It’s the sunniest, and thus most highly-coveted place to eat outside during winter, with the welcome addition of a bench so you don’t have to hunker down on the wet, slushy ground. They managed to secure the spot today largely due to Tsukishima’s very intimidating ability to maintain unflinching eye contact for so long that the person on the receiving end just gives up and runs away to cower in peace. Hitoka counts herself lucky that she’s in his good graces.
It’s not too cold out today; there’s no wind, the sky is clear of clouds, and the sun is warming her face. Yamaguchi is a soothing presence next to her, chatting quietly with Tsukishima on his other side while Hinata and Kageyama sit on the ground in front of them and roll a water bottle between them. She takes in a deep breath, fills her lungs with cool, crisp air, and lets it out with a smile. Everything smells fresh and new, and for the first time in what feels like a lifetime, her head feels clear of worry.
“So, Yacchan,” Hinata chirps, “how’s the thing with Shimizu-san going?”
Hitoka’s hand pauses halfway to her mouth, and she wonders if some higher power has it out for her.
“What thing with Shimizu-san?” Kageyama asks, turning a bewildered look to the boy next to him.
“Uh, the thing where Yachi-san has a huge crush on her?” Hinata says, with his usual lack of volume control. Hitoka shrinks into her scarf and prays that the people scattered around the courtyard are too busy with their own conversations to have overheard. “Come on, Kageyama, are you seriously that oblivious?”
Hitoka refrains from mentioning that Hinata probably wouldn’t have figured it out himself had she not told him directly, because he’s her friend and she doesn’t want to be mean. Tsukishima, on the other hand, has no such qualms, and quickly remarks on Hinata’s own obliviousness, prompting an outraged Hinata to try and shove muddy snow down Tsukishima’s coat.
“You have a crush on Shimizu-san?” Kageyama’s eyes drill into her, curious. Yamaguchi is charitably trying to look uninterested in the conversation, but his head is tilted very slightly in her direction. Hitoka squirms for a moment or two, but she can’t think of a not-glaringly-obvious way to avoid the question.
“Yes,” she mumbles, half-hoping her reply is muffled by her scarf.
“Oh,” Kageyama says.
“Yes,” she sighs.
“Well?” Hinata asks, once again back to inhaling his bento, face still slightly flushed from his unsuccessful wrestling match with Tsukishima. “Do you know how you’re going to ask her out?”
“You’re going to ask her out?” Yamaguchi asks, awe in his voice and subtlety abandoned.
“I don’t know!” Hitoka cries, burying her face in her hands, hoping her cold fingers will balance out the burning in her cheeks. “I—I want to, and everyone’s been saying that I should, but I don’t know how I should even begin to go about it, or even if I should in the first place, or—”
“You should.”
All eyes turn to Kageyama, who’s giving Hitoka a piercing look, a look she can’t quite read. It’s serious, focused, like whenever he’s playing volleyball, but softer, somehow. Like all the passion and drive and competitiveness has burnt away, and only the simple, earnest emotion at the centre of it all remains.
“W-what?” Hitoka manages.
“You should do it,” Kageyama tells her firmly.
Hitoka blinks, then shakes herself out of her surprised daze. “I—thank you, Kageyama-kun, but…”
“But what?” he asks, furrowing his brow and tilting his head in a gesture he almost definitely picked up from Hinata.
Something about his straightforward sincerity cuts through all her nerves and indecision, right to the heart of the matter. She exhales shakily, and clasps her hands together tightly in her lap. “I just—I don’t know if I can.” She isn’t brave like Hinata, or confident like Nishinoya, or resolute like Kageyama. She’s just a plain, nervous girl with a big, stupid crush.
Kageyama seems to consider this carefully. “Then don’t do it,” he says with finality, then yelps when Hinata smacks him.
“What Kageyama’s trying to say,” Yamaguchi interrupts, patting her hands gently, “is that you should do whatever feels right for you. Don’t rush into anything if you’re not ready.”
Kageyama nods. “Yeah, that.”
“Yamaguchi’s right! Follow your heart, it’ll show you the right way!” Hinata pipes up.
“Your heart will show you the way?” Kageyama scoffs. “Have you been stealing Natsu’s manga again?” Hinata flings some rice at him, which quickly escalates into a chopstick swordfight that has Hitoka dodging wayward elbows.
“I’m leaving,” Tsukishima announces, having packed all his things the moment Hinata and Kageyama started throwing things at each other.
“But, I mean, you probably shouldn’t wait too long,” Yamaguchi muses, one hand tapping his chin thoughtfully and the other pulling Tsukishima back down. “Shimizu-senpai was already popular in high school, after all, and who knows what it’ll be like in university.”
“Yeah,” Kageyama chimes in helpfully from where he’s holding Hinata’s chopsticks out of his reach.
“Yeah,” Hitoka sighs dejectedly. Yamaguchi’s right, of course. Kiyoko probably has hordes of cool, mature university students lining up to woo her, and if Hitoka can’t even manage to send her a text without having a miniature breakdown, she has no chance at all. She can feel herself withering into her scarf again.
“But you shouldn’t just give up, Yachi-san!” Hinata says in between his attempts to bite at Kageyama’s hand on his face.
“That’s true,” Yamaguchi says, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’ve still got a little bit of hope on your side.”
This isn’t quite as reassuring as Yamaguchi probably wants it to be.
“Yachi.”
She turns to look at Tsukishima, who is back to valiantly trying to eat his lunch as if there isn’t an all-out brawl breaking out at his feet. Hitoka supposes he must be accustomed to it, by now, however begrudgingly.
His eyes flick up to meet hers, and his gaze holds her in place. It’s not the piercing stare that sends people scurrying away, though. This look is thoughtful, and almost gentle. When he speaks, his voice is much the same.
“Stop overthinking it. You’ll just get too worked up and worry yourself into a corner.” He turns back to his lunch, seemingly unaware of the way even Kageyama and Hinata have fallen quiet to listen to him. “You should do what you want, not what you think is best for others. You can’t please everyone.”
Hitoka looks out at the courtyard and lets out a long breath, watching it mist in front of her face and disappear into the morning air. She smiles and stretches her foot out to nudge Tsukishima’s. “Thank you, Tsukishima. I’ll try.”
The quiet that’s fallen over them like a blanket of snow lasts for the minute or so until the bell rings. Hitoka packs her food away slowly, content to bask a little longer in the warmth of the sun and her wonderful friends.
It’s when they’ve almost reached the doors that Yamaguchi says, “Tsukki, didn’t you just tell Yachi-san to follow her heart?”
“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima says over Hinata and Kageyama’s sniggers.
“Sorry, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says, not sounding very sorry at all.
The air is fresh and filled with laughter, and her mind feels clear.
*
Hitoka has a complicated relationship with pictures of herself, largely because she has an abiding love for taking a million photos with her friends and then religiously scrapbooking them all, but she also has a remarkable talent for looking terrible in every single one.
She can usually be found half-blinking and mysteriously always in the middle of opening her mouth, no matter how hard she clenches her teeth into a smile when she spots a camera in proximity. Her peace signs don’t look cute; they’re usually thrown up in front of her face, like she’s desperately trying to ward off an oncoming attack. The pictures are often blurry, too, like she’s some kind of elusive cryptid who lives alone in the mountains and subsists off a diet of exclusively dirt and leaves.
Which is why, the evening before the team is planning to meet with the third years at an ice skating rink, it takes her half an hour to take what she finally deems a passable selfie to send to Kiyoko. She managed it by closing her eyes and letting instinct take over, and the result comes out okay; her smile is slightly lopsided and her tongue is poking out a little bit, but her hair looks neat, and her shirt is sitting straight, and frankly she’s ready to accept anything even half-decent at this point.
With trembling fingers, she composes her message.
Me (9:29)
Excited to see you tomorrow!! (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧
*image attached*
Then, for a whole twenty minutes, Hitoka agonises over the wording and the exclamation marks and the emoji and the selfie again and then back to the wording. She vacillates violently between being ultra-determined and full of crippling self-doubt, until she finally concludes that she’s getting absolutely nothing done this way. So, she takes a deep breath and tries to fill her head with encouraging thoughts.
It’s worth a shot. Follow your heart. Don’t overthink it.
With those words in mind, she screws her eyes shut and presses send.
And promptly shrieks and throws her phone across the room, where it lands with a pathetic plop on her bed. She flings herself after it and wails like a banshee into her pillow, which is how her mother finds her a minute or so later.
“Hitoka?” she asks, sounding torn between worry and amusement. “I heard moaning. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Hitoka says, voice muffled by the pillow.
“Well. You don’t sound fine,” her mother replies, and this time it’s definitely amused. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Mm-hmm.”
The bed dips down next to Hitoka, and she finally brings herself to look up at her mother. She’s smiling, but her eyebrows are creased with worry. “Really?”
Hitoka shakes her head as she sits up, still hugging the pillow to her chest. “I—it’s nothing. Really. Thank you, though.”
Her mother heaves a deep sigh. “Okay, then. I’ll leave you to moan in peace.” After a few moments of hesitation, she pats Hitoka lightly on the knee, then stands and leaves quietly. Hitoka forces herself not to watch as the door closes behind her, instead staring at her phone as it lies sad and silent on her crumpled blankets. She’s trying very hard not to think of it as a particularly apt metaphor for her life.
The screen lights up.
In her scramble to grab her phone, she falls off her bed, knocking her elbow hard on the way down. It stings, but she ignores the pain as she reads Kiyoko’s reply.
Kiyoko-san (9:54)
I’m excited to see you guys, too! ヽ(^◇^*)/
*image attached*
Hitoka can’t stop the squeak that escapes her when she opens the picture. Kiyoko is obviously lying in bed—her hair is tied up in a messy bun, but the loose strands frame her face like it’s a priceless painting. Her smile is small, and Hitoka’s eyes are drawn to the way she’s biting her lip, like she’s trying to hold back a grin. There are no glasses in sight, and her eyes are huge and grey and crinkled slightly at the edges and beautiful. She’s beautiful.
Hitoka is going to die tomorrow.
She needs help.
It takes some meditative breathing and an impassioned pep talk in her bedroom mirror, but eventually she gathers herself and shuffles quietly to the door of the office, then stands there for a while, just watching as her mother taps away at the computer, muttering to herself occasionally. She looks composed and capable and important, like she always does, even in the comfort of home. Hitoka can't help but wish she'd inherited some of that dignity and grace. Every time she opens her mouth to speak, something lodges itself in her throat, and she can’t get any words past it. Her mother is obviously busy; it would be rude to disturb her.
Just as she’s convinced herself to tiptoe away and pretend she never got up in the first place, her mother turns around in her seat and starts at the sight of Hitoka standing there like a creep.
“Hitoka!” she breathes, hand to her chest. “What are you—is something wrong?”
Okay, there’s no turning back now, she thinks, a little hysterically. With her heart in a vice grip, Hitoka forces herself to take a step forward. Then another step. And another, and another, until she’s reached the desk and is staring down at her bewildered mother with as much resolve as she can possibly muster.
“Um. Can I tell you something?” she asks. Her voice barely shakes, she notes with no small amount of pride.
Her mother nods slowly. “Go ahead,” she says, gesturing for Hitoka to continue. Hitoka closes her eyes, balls her fists, and swallows past the lump in her throat. If she doesn’t get it out now, she doesn’t know if she ever will. She needs to say it with her own mouth.
“I’m very sorry to disturb you and I know you’re really busy but I just needed to tell you that there’s someone I like a whole lot,” she declares in a rush.
Her mother blinks twice. “Well. Okay,” she says carefully. “Did you come to me for… approval?”
“No! I mean not that I don’t want your approval, of course I would like it if you approved and everything but...” She clenches her jaw and forces herself to speak slower. “I’m going to see them tomorrow. At the ice skating rink. And I wanted to—I don’t know. To ask them out on a date, maybe. But they’re so—and I’m—and I don’t know how, or—or what, or… yeah.” She twists her hands together and stares resolutely at her socked feet.
Her mother tilts her head, considering. “May I ask who this person is?” Her lip twitches upwards and she presses a finger to her cheek thoughtfully. “Is it that boy—what’s his name—the one with the orange hair?”
“No!” Hitoka protests, shaking her head vehemently. “No, oh my god, no, it’s not Hinata. No.”
“Okay, okay!” her mother says, holding her hands up placatingly. “You don’t have to tell me, it’s fine.”
“No, I mean, it’s just that—” Hitoka groans and presses her palms to her forehead. It’s a little easier, when she can’t see her mother’s shrewd eyes searching her face. She sucks in a breath through her nose, blows it out, and steels herself. “It’s Kiyoko-san.”
There’s a beat of silence. “As in… Shimizu Kiyoko? The old manager?”
Hitoka nods, twice, and tells herself firmly that throwing up would decidedly not help the situation.
“I see.” With a big exhale, her mother leans back, staring at the ceiling.
Coming out, however obliquely, was hard enough when she did it over the phone to Hinata, someone she basically knew for certain wouldn’t see her any differently. Sometimes she has trouble even saying it to herself, and now she’s just told her mother, face-to-face, where the consequences could amount to more than just losing the support of a friend, however close. It’s not that she thinks her mother will be bothered by it, not really, but that doesn’t stop her hands from trembling or her stomach from tying itself into painful knots.
She’s just gearing up to sprint away as fast as her shaking legs can carry her when her mother stands abruptly and pulls Hitoka into a hug.
For a moment, Hitoka has no idea what’s happening. It’s not unprecedented, but they don’t usually do this sort of thing, her and her mother. Yachi Madoka isn’t really one for heart-to-hearts or hugs, most of the time. But, after a few moments of choking silence, Hitoka’s shoulders slump, her muscles unclench, and she feels her heart settling back into place.
Just as she raises her arms to return the hug, her mother sniffs slightly and pulls away, though her hands still rest lightly on Hitoka’s shoulders. Her eyes are shining, and her lips are pulled into a grin.
“You’re growing up, aren’t you, Hitoka? Volleyball clubs this and first loves that.” She ruffles Hitoka’s hair lightly. “I’m glad you told me.” Clapping her hands together, she announces, “Now, let’s discuss this over hot chocolate.”
“Don’t you have work to do?” Hitoka asks, voice still a little thick, as her mother guides her out of the office.
“There are more pressing things right now,” her mother says sagely. “My daughter’s love life hangs in the balance.”
“M-mom!”
A hot chocolate and too many almond cookies later, Hitoka has caught her mother up on most of the details of her situation. Not all of them, of course—Hitoka doesn’t think she would survive talking about the dream that set all these events in motion. But she does explain how she thinks her crush started, and how it didn’t stop, and how the team have been attempting to dispense loud and often terrible advice to her every time they spot her in the hallways.
“Don’t listen to them,” her mother says, exasperated, “they’re teenage boys. What do teenage boys know about girls?”
Hitoka considers this for a moment, and has to concede her point.
“So… what do you think I should do?” she asks tentatively.
Her mother is quiet for a while, swirling her hot chocolate thoughtfully. “Well, I don’t really know this girl, Hitoka, so it’s really all up to you.” She turns her gaze to Hitoka. “But I do think that you should make the first move.”
At this point, Hitoka’s getting a bit sick of that particular piece of advice. “Yes,” she says, trying not to sound exasperated, “but… how do I do that?”
She’s rewarded with a shrug. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for you there, Hitoka. Sometimes when you face an obstacle, you just have to summon all your strength and charge forward with your head held high.” Her eyes soften. “I think you have a lot of strength inside you, Hitoka. It’s pretty special. When you really want something, you reach for it.”
Something soft settles gently in her chest at those words. Hitoka feels her eyes start to sting, so she rubs at them with her sleeve. “Thank you, mom. I—I’m glad I talked to you about this.”
“I’m glad, too.” She reaches out her hand to wipe away the stray tears that have leaked from Hitoka’s eyes, then rubs her thumb lightly along Hitoka’s cheek. When Hitoka manages to pull herself together, the hand withdraws. Her mother clears her throat, then tilts her head at Hitoka with a smile. “So, what are you planning on wearing to impress Kiyoko-san tomorrow?”
Hitoka’s eyes widen. “I—I haven’t even thought about it,” she whispers in horror.
Her mother laughs. “We’d better get to work, then.”
*
The meetup time is supposed to be 10:30, but in a spectacular display of her usual overthinking, she panics about possible transport delays, catches an earlier train, and gets to the ice skating rink twenty minutes early.
She stands in front of the door for ten of those minutes, wondering if she should wait around the corner until she sees some of her friends arriving and go in with them so she doesn’t have to be there alone, or maybe if she should enter and then hide in the bathroom until she inevitably hears their shouting, marking it safe to come out. She probably would have hesitated for longer, had someone not cleared their throat behind her and made her realise that she was blocking the door and generally being a bit of a weirdo.
So she enters, and is pleasantly surprised by the lack of crowds. She’d prepared herself to have to deal with endless streams of screaming children and couples, since it’s just two days after Christmas Eve, but there are only a few people scattered about the place. Only three people are already on the ice; two of them are holding hands and skirting the boundary, and the third is a woman drifting in graceful circles towards the centre.
Hitoka watches, enraptured and a little envious, how the woman’s long, dark hair fans around her as she spins, and how she finishes the turn with a small flourish of her arms, a bit ridiculous but kind of sweet all the same, and how she looks up self-consciously to check if anyone saw her do that. And how her eyes catch on Hitoka’s.
And how they widen with recognition, just as Hitoka’s do the same.
And—
*
It was early January when she was four years old, when Hitoka remembers seeing her first snowfall.
Logically, it wasn’t the first time she’d ever seen snow before. But it’s the first time she remembers the pure wonder of watching the snowflakes drift past her window and slowly gather on the windowsill, dusted on the balcony railing like sugar on the almond cookies she helped her mother make—thick and heavy, because she likes things sweet.
She remembers opening the window just enough to stick her arm out, letting the little flakes catch on her finger, breathless with delight and wondering how on earth something could fill her with so much warmth when it was so cold outside.
*
—how Kiyoko smiles up at Hitoka, and it feels like she’s seeing snow for the first time.
Kiyoko skates to the barrier and waves at her to come down to the ice. Her hair is longer than Hitoka remembers, and she’s wearing a very flattering pair of high waisted jeans and a black turtleneck. Her cheeks are slightly flushed from the exercise, and her eyes are glittering behind her glasses.
Basically, she’s skating like a professional and looking like a model, and meanwhile, Hitoka trips while walking down the stairs.
“Are you okay, Hitoka-chan?” Kiyoko asks when Hitoka finally manages to get down the steps, miraculously without injuring herself. She sounds genuinely concerned, but her eyes are dancing with laughter, and somehow Hitoka doesn’t feel the least bit embarrassed.
“I’m fine!” she squeaks, a little too loudly, then clears her throat. “It—it’s nice to see you again. You’re looking—you look good. Um!”
Kiyoko huffs a laugh, then leans over the barrier to put a hand on Hitoka’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you, too.”
Hitoka knows her cheeks are flushing, and she desperately hopes she’ll get a pass because of the cold. She tugs her scarf up to cover her cheeks, just in case. “Um. Yes,” she says, her voice muffled by the fabric. She’s really doing well today, isn’t she.
Kiyoko’s hand suddenly evacuates Hitoka’s shoulder, and she uses it to push a stray strand of hair behind her own ear instead. “Yes. Um.” She brushes the same strand of hair back, even though it hasn’t moved since she last touched it. “Do—do you have any skates?”
Hitoka’s eyes widen. “Oh! Uh, yes, I-I mean, no, I have to. Go get some. I’ll be back.” She makes a very strange waving motion at the front counter, then realises she’s being weird, then bows in apology, then realises she’s being weird again, and then she finally makes her escape.
She runs into Sugawara and Azumane on her way to the serving desk, and they inform her that all the previous third years had met up an hour ago and walked to the rink together.
“We were all meant to catch up with each other, but every time Shimizu opened her mouth she wouldn’t stop talking about how much you two have been texting since you got her new number and how nice your haircut looks and how well you’ve been doing,” Sugawara tells Hitoka conspiratorially, nodding over to where Kiyoko is skating in lazy circles. “She’s been very excited to see you again. I think she might—”
He’s interrupted by a hand coming down on his shoulder. “That’s enough matchmaking. For now,” Sawamura says, giving Hitoka a knowing look. Then, he turns a grave expression on the other two boys. “They’ve arrived.”
That’s all the warning they get before Nishinoya and Hinata barrel into the group like a couple of overexcited puppies whose owners have just come home, and Tanaka and Yamaguchi drag the rest of last year’s team over to join them. Hitoka shimmies away from the dogpile as best she can and makes her way over to the desk as inconspicuously as possible, to avoid being crushed.
“Uh, Yacchan?” Hitoka looks up (and up and up) to see Azumane standing next to her, somehow having managed to extricate himself from the team, who are now sending rapid-fire questions at a doting Sugawara and an exasperated Sawamura. “Hello.”
“It’s nice to see you again, Azumane-san!” she says.
He smiles warmly. “You too, Yacchan. I think you’ve... grown a little? Since I last saw you?” She’s grown one centimetre, where it looks like he’s grown about seven, but she nods nonetheless.
They make awkward but genuine small talk while they try on and pay for their skates, chatting about Hitoka’s classes and Azumane’s job and how the new first years are holding up. They begin to make their way slowly and clumsily towards the ice in companionable silence, but Azumane keeps opening his mouth as if he’s going to say something, then snapping it shut.
Hitoka has a feeling she knows what’s coming. “Azumane-san—”
“About what Suga was saying earlier,” Azumane blurts out. It comes out too loud, and he winces when people look over at them. “About what Suga was saying earlier,” he repeats, quieter.
“Yes?” she says, trying to hold back a sigh. It doesn’t entirely keep the weariness out of her voice.
Azumane smiles down at her sheepishly. “Sorry. I know you’ve probably gotten more advice than you could ever use, but." He rubs the back of his head. "God, I'm bad at this. It's just—I just thought… we’re pretty similar, you know? We both get super nervous and—and struggle with confidence, sometimes. I think. I don't know.”
“Yeah,” she agrees, and even to her own ears, she sounds exhausted. Azumane chuckles softly.
“Yeah,” he echoes. “Look, I just wanted to say—I get feeling scared about these sorts of things. About everything, really. I get it if you feel like everything could go wrong and you’ll lose someone important to you and never recover.” He picks at the hem of his sweater for a moment, glances at Hitoka next to him and then at Kiyoko, still drifting on the ice. Then he straightens his shoulders and looks directly into Hitoka’s eyes. “But I really think this is worth a shot.”
Hitoka is almost taken aback with how confident he looks. There’s a look in his eyes, something bold and certain, that she’s only ever seen on the court. “You think so?” she says, her voice wobbling a little.
He nods, and smiles at her, strong and sure. “I really think so.”
Hitoka bites her lip, then reaches out to loop her arms around Azumane’s waist. She gives him a quick squeeze, before letting go and tugging at her skirt self-consciously. “Thank you, Azumane-san. That means a lot.”
He pats her arm. “No problem.” Then, with a grin that could rival even Sugawara’s in terms of pure mischief, he gives her a gentle shove onto the ice. “Now, you should go for it. Before you lose your nerve.”
She manages a salute with one hand, while the other holds onto the barrier for dear life. It takes her a minute or two to pull herself up, during which time most of the team enters the rink and skates by her, giving her thumbs up and many reassuring, though perhaps a bit overexcited, slaps on the back. She responds to their encouragement with a weak thumbs up of her own, and ignores the growing pressure inside her stomach.
When she finally gets her bearings, she attempts to step forward, her hand hovering above the barrier. For a few wonderful, breathless seconds, she can feel herself glide smoothly along the ice, and thinks that maybe, just maybe, she could be something of a natural at this. She lifts her hands away from the barrier and takes another step.
Her knees immediately buckle inwards, and she sees her life flash before her eyes.
Before she even has a chance to shout, someone’s arms circle her waist, and she grabs onto them tight. She gives herself a second to catch her breath and dispel thoughts of falling and cracking her head open and bleeding out all over the ice from her mind, before she lets out an exhale and looks up to thank her saviour.
And, because her life is apparently a shoujo manga, it’s Kiyoko.
The words freeze in her throat, and what comes out instead is a very high-pitched, very embarrassing noise. Kiyoko’s expression, which had already been concerned in the first place, shifts into downright alarmed territory. She leans in closer and begins to pull Hitoka upright, her arms flexing at Hitoka’s sides, and if her legs weren’t already dangling uselessly beneath her, they probably would have given out.
“Are you okay?” Kiyoko asks, a little frantic. “You’re not injured, are you?”
Hitoka makes some inarticulate noises that only serve to deepen the furrow in Kiyoko’s brow, so she gathers up all the remaining strength in her body and says, “I’m fine! Totally good and uninjured!” She lets go of Kiyoko’s arms to prove just how fine she is, and almost trips again.
Kiyoko giggles at her, actually giggles, hands planted firmly on her waist. Hitoka is seriously going to faint on the spot. “That’s good. I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Yes,” she replies, with her typical eloquence. “Um, thank you. For—for catching me. That was—you’re very—yes.”
“Well, I was coming over to see if you needed help anyway,” Kiyoko says, shrugging it off like she goes around saving people’s lives on the regular. She probably does. “You seemed to be struggling a bit.”
“Oh! Well.” Hitoka clears her throat nervously. “I haven’t—I’ve never really gone ice skating before.”
Kiyoko’s eyebrows rise ever so slightly in surprise. “Never?”
Hitoka ducks her head. “Never.”
The hands around her waist tighten, just a little. “Well, I’d be happy to teach you, if you’d like,” Kiyoko says, and Hitoka is probably almost definitely imagining the way her voice shakes slightly as she says it.
“Okay,” is all she can manage in return.
Kiyoko lets go of her waist, to Hitoka’s immense dismay, but quickly takes her hands to steady her. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
Hitoka looks up at Kiyoko’s eyes, so light they’re almost clear, like a pool so translucent you can’t tell how deep it runs. “I know,” she breathes.
With one last reassuring smile, she begins, “Alright. Now, try to relax. Your legs are too stiff, it’s much better if you bend them. Yes, exactly. Now lean forward a little, and… yes, like that, and take a step. One step, that’s it, then another.”
It’s awkward, at first. It’s very awkward, as most things tend to be with Hitoka—she keeps staring at her feet, no matter how much Kiyoko tells her to look up, and she messes up the stepping more often than she gets it right, and she can’t think of anything interesting to say when all her brain can come up with is ‘Kiyoko-san soft hands strong arms smells good so close holy wow’.
But after wobbling her way around for thirty minutes or so, Hitoka finds that she’s actually getting the hang of it. They settle into a rhythm, where Kiyoko steps back on one foot and Hitoka uses her opposite foot to follow, left and right and left and right. The boys keep unexpectedly whizzing past them and scaring Hitoka half to death, shouting and laughing and generally making their usual ruckus, but Kiyoko just squeezes her hands and continues to guide her along.
It feels kind of like a dance, and all they have to do is follow the steps to their own music. Hitoka gets so caught up in their movement, in fact, that she almost jumps out of her skin when Kiyoko breaks the silence.
“I think everyone’s leaving.” She nods over to Narita and Kinoshita, who are herding the team towards the stands where Nishinoya is attempting to wrestle a party hat onto Ennoshita’s head.
“Oh, of course, it’s Ennoshita-san’s birthday! We should…” She goes to detangle her fingers from Kiyoko’s, but Narita spots them and waves his hands frantically at them.
“No, no, no! Don’t worry about it, you two keep going, we wouldn’t want to interrupt.”
“We’re just opening presents, and you have so much catching up to do,” Kinoshita adds. “We’ll call you when we break out the cake.” His grin is just this side of too mischievous to be comforting.
“It’s fine,” Kiyoko says, but she still hasn’t let go of Hitoka’s hands. “I brought a gift, and I’m sure Hitoka-chan did, too.”
“Shimizu, Yachi-san.” A hand comes down on each of their shoulders, and Hitoka starts violently once more. She looks up warily, but it’s only Sawamura, wearing his supportive captain smile. “Leave it to us. You’ll have time later to give Ennoshita your presents. For now you can enjoy your time together.”
There are some whoops and catcalls from the stands that Hitoka thinks it would be in her best interests to ignore. Sawamura gives them one last meaningful look before patting them both on the shoulder and skating away. Sugawara glides past and shoots her a little wink, which she can only respond to with a nervous, wobbly smile.
She turns back to Kiyoko, who is squinting over Hitoka’s shoulder at something. She twists around to look, but only sees Sugawara facing them with his hands held behind his back and an angelic look on his face. Kiyoko sighs, and pulls on Hitoka’s hands to lead her to the other side of the rink.
They skate quietly for a while, interrupted only by Kiyoko’s occasional murmured instructions and, at one point, a soft laugh when Hitoka can’t help but squeal as they spin in a circle around each other. It’s nice, but kind of stilted, and Hitoka is kind of nervous that she’s boring Kiyoko, so she grabs onto the first thing that comes to mind.
“So… what did you get for Ennoshita?” Hitoka asks. Because that’s the most engaging topic of conversation, obviously.
Still, Kiyoko humours her. “Oh, I just watched a few games and made some notes on the teams and players you’ll be facing at the Spring Nationals.” She ducks her head with a little shrug. “It’s a bit boring, but I thought it might be useful.”
Hitoka can only gape at her. She bought him a polaroid camera, but Kiyoko’s gift is much better. “It’s not boring! You had time to do something like that?” Hitoka barely has time to do that, and it’s part of her job as the team manager.
At that, Kiyoko looks back up, her lips tipped upwards. “Well, I won’t deny that I’ve been busy, but.” She tilts her head, looking at Hitoka with a knowing smile. “There’s something about volleyball that just keeps pulling you back in, don’t you think?”
Hitoka huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, there is,” she says, and then, because Kiyoko is still smiling at her and she has the unfortunate habit of babbling when she’s nervous, she continues, “but still! You have so much studying to do, and I’m sure the social life of a university student is very full, and—and you’ve probably been on a million dates, too!” Okay, Hitoka, that’s enough, please stop now. “It’s just—with how busy you are, it’s such a thoughtful gift, is all.”
“Oh. I haven’t really—there hasn’t been all that much dating.”
“Really? None at all?” Hitoka asks, and really, why can’t she just shut her mouth?
“Well.” She shrugs bashfully. “I went on a few dates with someone at the beginning of the year.”
The words take a while to register. “Oh! Oh.” Hitoka tries to inhale through the lump that’s formed in her throat. “I’m happy for you! Is he nice?”
“Um, well. She was pretty nice, yes.” Kiyoko clears her throat and looks away, her face flushed pink. “But it didn’t really work out, so.”
Every cell in Hitoka’s body instantly shuts down. The air in her lungs is frozen. Her brain is slowing to a stop, and can only manage one single thought, which ricochets around her skull like a shout in an echo chamber.
Kiyoko-san likes girls.
She briefly lets go of Kiyoko’s hands to wave her arms in apology, but her legs wobble and she has to grab on tight again. “O-oh my god! I’m—oh my—I’m sorry! I’m so sorry for—for making assumptions,” she says, bowing her head in shame, and also maybe to hide the hopefulness that she knows is showing in her eyes. Just because Kiyoko likes girls (oh my god), it doesn’t mean she likes Hitoka.
Kiyoko laughs softly, and when Hitoka tentatively lifts her head back up, she seems to be biting back a smile. “It’s okay, Hitoka-chan. I understand.”
“I’m sorry,” she says again, then shakes her head to rearrange her thoughts. It feels like every one of her brain cells has been blended together into an incomprehensible soup. Brain soup. She scrambles for something else to say. “Um, so, so why didn’t it work out, with her? I mean, if you don’t mind me asking!”
Kiyoko smiles, soft and a little sad. “I don’t mind. It was just—well. We were both very busy, and… I was still interested in someone else.” She looks directly into Hitoka’s eyes. “Am still interested.”
“O-oh?” Hitoka’s mind sticks on the word still. Kiyoko was still interested in someone else. Which means that she’d been interested in them previously, before university started.
She wonders if the way her head spins has anything to do with the circles they’re skating at all.
“Mm.”
“Can—can I ask who that is?” Hitoka says, in little more than a whisper.
Kiyoko’s endless eyes have yet to leave hers. “Are you sure you don’t already know the answer?”
Hitoka swears she’s about to choke on the heart in her throat, but she’s afraid that if she coughs it’ll fly out of her mouth and land on the ice, pulsing sadly for the whole world to see. They’ve slowed to a stop, and her hands are sweating and her stomach is turning and her brain is filled with static.
Never, not in a million years, did Hitoka think that this would happen. She opens her mouth in the hopes that something, anything will fall out of it, but no luck. Instead, she just stands there, gaping like a fish.
Kiyoko’s eyes flick between Hitoka’s for just a few seconds longer, before they move to focus somewhere over Hitoka’s head. She huffs out a small laugh through her nose, but it’s not like the giggles from before. She moves to let go of Hitoka’s hands, but Hitoka—
It’s worth a shot. Follow your heart. Don’t overthink it.
Just one step closer.
Hitoka hangs on tight.
She scoots herself closer, and closer, until their hands are squashed between them. Kiyoko looks back at her in surprise, and Hitoka can’t look away from her bottomless, boundless, beautiful eyes. “Hitoka-chan?” Kiyoko murmurs.
Really, there are a million different things she could say, a million different ways she’s hopelessly in love with Kiyoko and a million different ways to tell her. But sometimes the truth fits into just a few words.
“Kiyoko-san,” she replies, pulling in a shaky breath. “I really, really like you. Would you like to go on a date with me?” she squeaks, then closes her eyes and prays for a quick and painless death.
There’s no sound for a few excruciating moments. Hitoka’s heart is beating so hard she can feel it in her teeth.
Then, she feels her hand being lifted up until cold fingers rest on her cheek. She squints her eyes open a little, then wider when she sees the grin on Kiyoko’s face.
“Hitoka-chan, I would—I’ve always—” Kiyoko says, then cuts herself off with a laugh. Her nose crinkles as she tries to reign it in, but there’s no mistaking the pinkness in her cheeks, or the sparkle in her eyes.
“Yes?” Hitoka is unable to help the hope that swells inside her chest.
“Hitoka-chan,” she tries again, smile wider than Hitoka’s ever seen it, “I would absolutely love to go on a date with you. More than one, preferably.”
Hitoka almost staggers with the impact of that sentence, but Kiyoko’s hands are still holding her firmly in place, anchored to the feeling of her fingers. “Oh! Great! That’s—wow!”
Kiyoko nods. “It’s pretty wow.”
“Yeah, it’s—” She feels faint. “You really want to go out with me?”
“I really do.” Kiyoko’s fingers brush over Hitoka’s cheek, and she just about dies on the spot. “Maybe we can go ice skating. You could use some practice.”
“Wha—Kiyoko-san!” Hitoka cries, but her protests die instantly when Kiyoko bursts into giggles again, and Hitoka gets an up-close, unobstructed view of the world’s loveliest laugh. Her eyes are scrunched up, her glasses are slipping down her nose, and her lips look full and pink and soft, and Hitoka really can’t help the way she leans in to press their mouths together.
Of course, because this is Hitoka, her first kiss is a bit of a disaster. Her lips collide with Kiyoko’s teeth and her glasses are pressing painfully into Hitoka’s nose. She didn’t even really mean for it to happen at all, and when Kiyoko’s laughter rushes out of her all at once, she comes to her senses.
But just as she’s about to pull away to apologise, Kiyoko buries her hands into Hitoka’s hair and melts against her, and everything else falls away.
She doesn’t know how long it goes for. Some tiny part in the back of her brain, the only part that isn’t being overwhelmed by every single one of her senses going into overdrive, registers that some people are staring, and certain people are crowing victoriously, but even though she knows she’ll probably be mortified in a few moments, right now she really can’t bring herself to care.
Right now, Kiyoko brushes her fingers through Hitoka’s hair, and smiles wide against her mouth, so Hitoka presses in closer and kisses Kiyoko, again and again and again.
It’s 11:24 on a Tuesday morning, and Yachi Hitoka has never felt more alive.