Chapter Text
A Prize for Oikawa at the Winter Training Camp
Chapter 1
Kageyama was not sure if Oikawa would respond to his text. He scrolled through several weeks of “Hey”s, “Oikawa-san”s, and “It’s me, Tobio-chan, in case you got a new phone and lost your contacts”s and would have believed that his senpai had dropped off the face of the Earth entirely, but for the Read notification that showed up reliably at the bottom of the thread within seconds of sending a new message.
“This must be why your girlfriend dumped you,” Kageyama mumbled.
In a fit of annoyance, he copied and pasted yesterday’s message:
Oikawa-san, a couple of schools from Tokyo are visiting over winter break, and we’re having a week-long training camp at Karasuno prior to the spring tournament. If you’re tired of studying for entrance exams, feel free to come over and play some volleyball with us.
He was aware that this was rubbing an excessive amount of salt in Oikawa’s wound after his career-ending loss in the spring prelims, and he never would have extended the invitation, if he hadn’t run into a very flustered Iwaizumi at the grocery store last week.
“I hear Karasuno’s holding some kind of training camp?” Iwaizumi had said, knocking a bottle of milk off the refrigerator shelf in his desperation. Unfortunately, it was a glass bottle. “Do you mind inviting Oikawa?”
“Sure, but—”
“He’s overworking himself again. Winter has never been his season, and what with entrance exams being around the corner and his advisor having declared the volleyball club off limits, he’s barely holding it together.”
“Sure, I’ll try texting him, but he hasn’t been responding to any of my texts lately.”
“I’m sure he’ll come, if you invite him.”
The idea was received with a marked coolness by his team when Kageyama put it to them, but it was Hinata of all people who came to Oikawa’s rescue.
“We’ve never played alongside Daiou-sama before,” he had said. “This will be a unique opportunity to learn from the best.”
Embarrassed at being lectured by Hinata, the rest of the team mumbled their assent, provided it was okay with Nekoma and Fukurodani. It turned out the two schools from Tokyo were more than eager to see in the flesh the dashing young celebrity from Miyagi, of whom Monthly Volleyball hadn’t been able to get enough a few months ago—not to mention various online fora frequented by women who were entirely too old—, and it was all settled.
Kageyama’s phone lit up, bringing him back to the present.
Oikawa had chosen to break his silence with a thumbs-up emoji.
-
Kageyama was waiting by the school gates when Oikawa arrived in his Aobajohsai tracksuit, with a gym bag slung over his shoulder. It was supposed to snow later in the week, and Kageyama hoped for Oikawa’s sake that it had occurred to him to bring warm clothes.
“Yo, Tobio-chan!” Oikawa greeted. “Hisashiburi.”
“Thanks for accepting the invitation, Oikawa-san.”
Oikawa gave an airy wave of his hand.
“If I hadn’t accepted, Iwa-chan would have roasted my head for Christmas.” Oikawa looked around. “Who did you say were these other two schools?”
“Nekoma and Fukurodani,” said Kageyama. “They’re both representing Tokyo at the inter-highs. Come, let’s introduce you.”
Oikawa fidgeted nervously with the strap of his bag as they walked. Oikawa, who was normally so suave and self-possessed, looked like he was being led to a job interview. It warmed Kageyama’s heart to see that he was human, just like the rest of them.
As they neared the gym, the sounds of sneakers squeaking against hardwood escaped through the open doors and into the night, punctuated by the cries of players and the thuds of volleyballs as they struck or were struck. Kageyama became sensible that Oikawa had slowed down next to him.
“What’s the matter?”
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
For a second Kageyama caught a rare glimpse of the man behind the mask. He looked tired, vulnerable, and full of seconds thoughts. It was no wonder Iwaizumi was worried.
Kageyama smiled.
“Everyone knows you’re coming, and they’re looking forward to meeting you.”
This seemed to assuage some of Oikawa’s unease.
“Please don’t smile, Tobio-chan,” he said pleasantly. “It looks creepy.”
Kageyama’s smile was replaced by his trademark scowl. He was about to avenge this insult, when a volleyball came rolling out of the gym, between the nets in the doorway, and stopped at Oikawa’s feet. What were the odds of that?
“What is the universe telling me, I wonder?” said Oikawa, gazing down at the familiar blue and yellow face of his childhood dreams.
“Uhm, toss the ball here, maybe?”
Oikawa looked up to see a spiky-haired boy standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the yellow lights of the gym. He was tall and lean and leaning casually against the doorframe with a hand on his hip in a manner that reminded Oikawa of a model. Quads and calves bulged with lean muscle under a pair of red gym shorts, and a charcoal tee shirt rippled over what could only be a set of perfectly defined abs.
“I’m Kuroo,” said the silhouette. “Kuroo Tetsurou.”
Oikawa bent to pick up the volleyball, eyes glued to Kuroo’s stunning body.
“Pleased to meet you,” said Oikawa, tossing the ball in Kuroo’s direction unconsciously. It wasn’t the most graceful toss. Kuroo had to lunge forward to catch it, causing Oikawa to flush with embarrassment. “I’m—”
“I know who you are.” Kuroo grinned, recomposing himself. All that was visible of his face against the gym lights were his white teeth and the one eye that was not obscured by his wild bangs. Now he reminded Oikawa of a pirate. “You’re the one they call ‘Daiou-sama’, right? Likes milk bread. The one women of all ages are crazy about. Am I right?”
Oikawa’s face turned red.
“Oikawa-san,” said Kageyama. “Why don’t we go put your things away and grab some dinner at the cafeteria first?”
He did not understand what was going on but was able to read the atmosphere sufficiently well to tell that a diversion was necessary.
It was in perfect silence that Oikawa tore himself away from Kuroo and followed Kageyama to the sleeping quarters.
Kageyama had never seen Oikawa so lost for words.
-
“It isn’t much, but there are some pork buns and onigiri, courtesy of Takeda-sensei,” said Kageyama, turning on the lights in the cafeteria. He turned to Oikawa and started. Oikawa, with hands thrust deep in his pockets and eyes directed down at his shoes, looked like someone who had lost his entire fortune in the stock market. “Is everything okay?”
Oikawa sniffled.
“I don’t know if I should have come.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know if I want to be around people right now.”
“Is everything okay?” Kageyama repeated.
“Who was that guy we just met? Kuroo?”
“Kuroo-san. He’s Nekoma’s captain and middle blocker.”
“He doesn’t like me very much, does he?” said Oikawa bitterly.
“He’s like that at first, but he’s all right.”
“I don’t think anyone here likes me very much, especially your school. I don’t know if I want to deal with that right now, on top of everything else.”
“Eat some food. You’ll feel better.”
Kageyama did not know how he had gone from being afraid of Oikawa to being almost protective of him. It had happened suddenly after the spring tournament prelims, and Kageyama was thankful that it had. In the brief time since then, they mended their relationship, and Kageyama learnt that under his flashy exterior Oikawa was a kind-hearted boy who just wanted everyone to like him. He was determined that Oikawa shouldn’t have other than a good time this week, even if he had to fight all three schools to make it happen.
-
“Your Daiou-sama seems to have arrived,” said Kuroo as he headed back into the gym, spinning the volleyball on his finger as if it were a basketball. Practice had ended, and players from all three schools were toweling off and recovering their energies prior to cleaning up. “Kageyama-kun took him to the cafeteria, I think.”
“Ooh, Daiou-sama!” Hinata jumped off the bench, throwing the towel off his shoulders. “I’m going to be the one to beat him today.”
“We’re done for the day, baka,” said Tanaka. He turned to the other first years. “Yo, first years, your senpai is letting you shower first today, so make it quick.”
“What did you think of him?” asked Kenma, shuffling up to Kuroo.
Kuroo raised an eyebrow.
“Daiou-sama, you mean?”
“He has a name, Kuro.”
Kuroo scratched his head.
“Honestly, I don’t get what the fuss is all about.”
“Then why are you blushing?”
“Shut up, Kenma.”
tbc.