Chapter Text
He was definitely tall. Nothing Aoba Johsai was lacking, of course, but it was reassuring. And from what he had heard from Oikawa and Iwaizumi, he wasn’t a half bad player either. When Kindaichi first turned up he was nothing but nervous excitement and stuck to this other kid like a playful puppy. The same day going bug-eyed when Oikawa and Iwaizumi personally introduced them both as old friends, practically almost tearing up until Kunimi elbowed him to remind him they were in front of the entire team. He and Hanamaki had chuckled beside Oikawa, Kindaichi no longer a faceless description.
Kindaichi quickly became their second starting middle blocker alongside himself and although he was fairly fond of the other third-year MB Sawauchi whom he had been practising with for the past two and a half years, he didn't mind one bit that Sawa's spot was given to Kindaichi. He couldn't figure out exactly why at first, he chalked it up to because he was clearly as passionate as everyone else on the court, and after only a couple of weeks, him and Hanamaki had already begun joining in with Oikawa and Iwaizumi in keeping him fired up. It wasn't hard.
-
“Hey Kindaichi, can I pick ya brains?”
Kindaichi span around quickly to face Matsukawa, pushing the top of his water bottle with the heel of his hand. “Uh, sure.”
The inevitable pause. Matsukawa was pretty quiet most of the time, and so at this point he wasn't even sure Kindaichi knew he could actually say things that weren't totally sarcastic. It was a puzzled pause, as if wondering what prank he was going to pull. Matsukawa wasn't too bothered about being looked at in that way. In fact he thrived on it and he found a grin spread on his face already. Kindaichi swallowed as if he thought it was mischievous. It was, in a way.
“There a reason your quicks are slow?” It was an innocent question, really, and he genuinely wanted to know the answer.
Matsukawa had noticed pretty quickly. Kindaichi barely even had to tell Oikawa (not that he had the guts to anyway), all it took was one missed set and balled-up fists and he never missed another. It wasn't like Kindaichi was slow, though. He could be a lot quicker if he wanted to be.
Kindaichi's face fell and showed Matsukawa a look he wasn't sure suited the kid's features. His eyes went a little darker and his lips curved into a big frown, brows drawn together, the bottle he was holding a little tighter in his grip. Matsukawa raised an eyebrow.
“I’m just slow, OK? No big deal.”
Matsukawa was sure that wasn't the case, actually he was more surprised at the fact he was using that tone of voice.
Not knowing the right response to something like that, he shrugged. “OK.”
He watched the way Kindaichi's look turned into confusion, as if he had expected literally any other response.
He didn't think anything more of it until that one practise game.
-
He had been really fired up when Irihata mentioned a small practise match with a previously national-level team called Karasuno. Matsukawa didn't figure out why until Oikawa pointed out that it's most likely where Kageyama Tobio went.
It was a name he had heard plenty of in conversation, but the picture in his head didn't match up to the raven-haired boy on the other side of the court. For one, he seemed pretty in control. It didn't take long to find out Kageyama had changed and from the look on Kindaichi's and Kunimi's faces, he had changed a lot.
After the match, Kindaichi slipped. Kunimi stuck to him like a leech, giving side-glances to him and nudging him if he started to look too sour.
Matsukawa had never heard Kindaichi shout before and it was a shock to everyone when it was Yahaba. The last thing the kid would do was shout at one of his senpais - especially one he was so close with - so when he did, Yahaba couldn't even shout back out of shock.
Even Kunimi didn't step in at that. Of all people it took Iwaizumi to touch his shoulder and tell him to take a break. Like a switch he bowed his head and began a litany of apology to Yahaba, Iwaizumi and the rest of the team for causing a ruckus.
To see his kouhai - who, for the most part seemed fairly straight-out - in such a way got Matsukawa wondering what exactly went on in his mind. It wasn't like Kageyama was particularly horrible to him that day, from what he had heard it was mostly Kindaichi shouting at his old setter rather than the other way around. Yet, he was still in such a foul mood. A mood Matsukawa had never seen before.
“He looks so miserable. I'd send him home if I were Oikawa.”
“If I were Oikawa. You should be careful with your wording, Hanamaki.”
The way Hanamaki cringed next to him let him know he was right, and Matsukawa smirked.
“Nah, I think he'll be OK. Considering how easy it was to get him to realise…”
“You're creepy when you do that.”
“What?”
“Staring like you're looking into his soul.”
Matsukawa snorted softly. “You prefer if I look into your soul?”
“Ew, no.”
He still didn't look away from the other middle blocker, arms crossed and 'hmm'ing softly. Kindaichi was helping run block-follow drills, stood holding the blocking pad with strong arms. He was smiling, but it looked forced. It wasn't like the little outburst would go unforgotten in Kindaichi's mind, even if it had everyone else's.
“C'mon, we should do… something, before coach Mizoguchi stops watching Kunimi.”
Right. Practise. That was a thing that they should be doing. “Yeah.”
-
It wasn't like he was a creep. OK, maybe he was, everyone on the team would probably agree on that, but it wasn't on purpose. He was interested, that was all, and Kindaichi was left walking home alone because the other first-years were forced to stay late and clean up.
“Hey, Kindaichi.”
Kindaichi jumped five feet in the air and then span around to dip his head in hello. “Matsukawa-san! Hi!”
It was a little over-acted, and if he was anyone else he would've raised an eyebrow and continued talking as if it was normal.
“You're supposed to run away.”
“What? I-I am?”
This guy was impossible.
“It was a joke. You take everything waay too seriously.”
Matsukawa imagined the angry smoke Kindaichi puffed out of his nose and realised he probably shouldn't have joked around at someone who took such things to heart.
“Maybe if everyone didn't treat me as an invalid, I wouldn't!”
Matsukawa's eyebrows shot up. He shouted at him. Kindaichi Yuutarou, all nerves and formalities and- He really shouted at him.
“Excuse me?”
Kindaichi span back around, hiked his shoulders up and hung his head. “Leave me alone.” He spat, bitter at the floor.
“This is about the practise match.” It wasn't a question. Matsukawa knew without a doubt it was the practise match. And more specifically, Kageyama.
“Congratulations, you noticed what everyone else did. Can you forget it?”
Matsukawa shrugged. He could, he could walk away and leave him to sulk about his petty rivalry with his old setter. Kindaichi probably expected it. Matsukawa didn't particularly like confrontations much, preferring to keep to himself and the other third-years.
“Not if you start throwing temper tantrums and shouting at my friends because of it.”
He noticed the way Kindaichi's shoulders shifted, like he was flinching at the words.
“Yeah, I don't see why you didn't get kicked out of practise today. You blew up for no reason. Why you had to take it out on Yahaba, I don't know. But get your shit together.”
How far he could push him, Matsukawa was testing. It may have been cruel but everyone tiptoed around him like he was this fragile thing. He wasn't. That was proven today.
“I'm sorry, OK?!”
Matsukawa cringed at the way Kindaichi's voice cracked, considered turning and walking away again. “OK.” Just don't cry.
“Goodnight, Matsukawa-san.” He said curtly before continuing on, footsteps hitting the pavement a little too hard.
It was kind of cute. Kindaichi was cute when he was angry. Forget when he shrank nervously under attention or the way he stuttered sometimes when talking to his senpais, forget the little head-tilt thing he did when he was confused and even forget the beaming smile he got when Oikawa praised him. This was the cutest.
Brows furrowed, lips just barely pouted and cheeks puffed unintentionally, the pink of his face, or his shoulders hiked up defensively and eyes averted, somewhat mocking. And that, the way he shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked as if trying desperately not to cross them.
He was definitely a creep if he spend the past five minutes thinking that.