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Kei is eight when he watches a volleyball match for the first time. He's mesmerized by the way the players flow on the court, preventing the ball from touching the floor. Akiteru explains the rules to him while they watch, jokes about how he will be a professional player someday, tells him how amazing it must be to stand on the court with his teammates like soldiers on a battlefield.
Kei is eight, and clueless, and naïve.
He doesn't stay that way for long.
Hinata Shouyou is a tiny ball of nerves and stamina. He's annoying, all extreme energy and a loud, high-pitched voice that probably leaves people deaf in its wake. He never gives up, and he has these big expectations about volleyball, about life, that Kei finds disgusting.
Hinata Shouyou is everything Kei is not. He's careless, he's stupid, he's too easy-going, and he's definitely too short. He never plays it safe, giving all he's got and forgetting his own limitations. Hinata doesn't understand that winning is not a common occurrence, that life is a capricious child that doesn't care about how much you try, but about how naturally talented you are.
Kei knows this. Kei has seen it.
But then Hinata Shouyou jumps.
And the bastard dares to fly.
“You could be an amazing blocker,” Sawamura says. He smiles, complimenting him with pure honesty.
Oh, Kei knows he could be one. He knows he could compare to Datekou's Iron Wall. He knows he could save the game, stop the ball, create the perfect opportunity for Kageyama to make Hinata, or Tanaka, or Azumane spike and score.
He knows.
But he also knows that in volleyball walls are meant to be knocked down, that a good ace could break past his defenses and make them lose a set, a match, a championship. He could be amazing, yes, but he won't be amazing forever. Eventually, he will be replaced. He will be stripped of his title. He will fall.
“Thank you, captain,” he mutters.
He could be amazing, but why bother?
Kei hears the words one more and instantly grinds his teeth. He never quits, does he?
Hinata runs, waits for Kageyama's toss, and spikes, even though Kei won't let him score, even though he raises his hands and stops the ball, sending it back towards the other side of the net.
Hinata whines, sweat pearling his face, and Kei can't help but smile a little sadistically. He wants this boy to learn his place, to understand that he can't always win, no matter how much heart he puts into it.
Hinata growls at him like a tiny animal.
“I'll score this time, Tsukishima,” he grunts. Kei watches him look at Kageyama, eyes big and determined. “One more time!”
Kei wants to cut his wings.
His brother is a cheerful presence whenever he visits. He smiles and laughs, and tells fun stories about college life. His family, as always, is charmed by his shining eyes and caring personality, wishing he could visit more often.
Kei avoids Akiteru like the plague. His mother usually asks him what's wrong, but he just shrugs and locks himself up in his room. He puts on his headphones, presses play, and tunes out the laughs and the stories.
Kei loves his brother, but he's the constant reminder of bitter disappointment.
He's taking a break when Hinata asks him. Yamaguchi is practicing his floating serve against Nishinoya without acceptable results, repeating the movement again and again, only to fail miserably.
Kei clicks his tongue at them and swallows a sip of water.
“Why are you always so mean?”
Hinata has these huge eyes that can pin anybody to the spot. It's like he's reading you, like he's reaching into your soul, and learning your darkest secrets. He is unafraid and Kei hates it.
“Not mean,” he answers. “Just realistic.”
Hinata crosses his arms over his chest trying to look menacing, but only succeeding in looking even smaller. He cocks his head to the right, and pouts, but never takes those wicked eyes off Kei.
The silence is deafening until Kageyama calls Hinata's name from the other end of the gym. The boy doesn't turn immediately, however. Instead, he blinks at Kei and his frown disappears.
“That's really sad,” he sighs, pity heavy on his tongue. He then shakes his head and gracefully jogs towards Kageyama.
Kei stares at his back, the water bottle forgotten in his hand.
You don't know what sad is, he doesn't say.
The summer camp is a fucking disaster. They lose, they lose, they lose. No matter how hard they try, how close they get, they lose. And it's not the losing that gets to Kei. No. It's the fact that he cares, the fact that he feels frustrated, the fact that Yamaguchi of all people tells him to man up, to stop with the carelessness. To be proud of what they do, of how they play.
Kei was proud once. He was proud, and it all ended up in disappointment.
But he watches them. He watches Karasuno give everything they've got. He sees them lose and asks for more. One more toss, one more save, one more spike.
One more.
He sees Hinata fly, and fly, and fly again, spreading his arms before a jump like a bird spreads its wings before reaching for the sky.
The summer camp is a fucking disaster because everything Kei believes in crumbles, leaving him lost and wanting.
Oh, and how he hates wanting.
“Those are awesome glasses,” Hinata says, looking surprised. “You even look cool and everything!”
Kei adjusts the sports glasses over the bridge of his nose, smirking.
“That's something new to you, isn't it?” he answers, sounding as mean and as condescending as possible.
They are like the sun and the moon, Hinata and himself.
The boy's face quickly turns from amazed to pissed off, and the transition is actually kind of fun to watch. His cheeks turn red, and those big, warm eyes go dark and squinting.
“Wow, I almost forgot you're a jerk,” he grumbles.
Kei watches him go look for Tanaka or Nishinoya, his small frame funny while he stomps around, shoulders tense. There's something about Hinata that rubs Kei the wrong way. His height, his voice, his attitude, his heart. How fragile he looks.
Kei wants to crush him, punch him right in the nose. He wants to break him and make him cry. He wants to hold him like mean children hold butterflies, forcefully by their wings, preventing them from flying away.
Kei wants to push Hinata against a wall and kiss him stupid.
Studying is easy. Studying is harmless. He's smart and intelligent, and he aces his tests smoothly. In this, he can compete without fear. It's not a team effort, it's not a matter of luck. It's just him, a book, and brains.
“I've heard you've got impressive grades,” Sugawara says with a smile. “Daichi says you're so smart, you could even help tutor those two,” he jokes, pointing to where Kageyama and Hinata are shouting at each other over a particularly difficult toss. Kei recognizes Sugawara's hidden intentions but doesn't comment on them. The setter smiles, scratching the back of his neck. “They are really lousy students, you know,” he adds.
Sugawara amicably pats him on the shoulder before taking one more look at Hinata and Kageyama and giving a long-suffering sigh. With a tired expression, the setter jogs to them, probably to stop an irritated Tanaka from biting the annoying duo's heads off.
Kei watches them, hands unconsciously rolling a volleyball.
“Not a fucking chance,” he grunts to no one.
The music is loud, loud, loud in his ears, and he doesn't pay attention to anything else. He forgets how tired his body is, limbs aching sweetly after a good, long practice. His room is dark except for a sliver of light leaking through the curtains, creating shapeless shadows against the walls.
He closes his eyes, sneaks a hand in his underwear, and stops thinking.
Kei jumps higher when he blocks. He takes it personally when he can't stop the ball. He even starts training with his brother, the one who let him down, the one he used to blame for everything he is now.
It's not like he's trying to be worthy of this team, of these guys who pat him on the back after scoring, who tell him not to worry when things go south. It's not like he wants to be one of them. It's not for them but for himself.
He wants to win.
And he hates it.
“Nice block, Tsukihima!”
Kei doesn't have to turn around to know the loudest voice is Hinata's.
He teases them all the time. It's safe, and it's fun, and despite the threats and Kageyama's scary frown, he feels like that's his place in the team. The spiteful little shit who pretends not to care.
He sometimes wonders if he's slipping, if he's breaking character. Yamaguchi sends him these looks sometimes, like he knows something Kei doesn't. Kei hopes it's just his imagination. Kei hopes Yamaguchi is oblivious to his sudden need to belong, to his secret training, to the way he looks at Kageyama toss, at Nishinoya save the day, at Azumane spike.
At Hinata Shouyou soar above them, shining like the sun.
It happens, eventually. The truth is he doesn't mean for it to happen, but it does, and so Kei rolls with the punches.
He's fifteen and a big jerk when he kisses Hinata.
They are alone in the club room and time seems to come to a halt. The last light of the day slips through the window and sets Hinata's hair on fire while he quietly hums a song under his breath. He seems less annoying today, uncharacteristically calm. Kei stares at him for a moment, desperately looking for something mean to say, something to tease him with, but he's out of words. Speechless. Vulnerable.
He takes a step towards Hinata and gently pushes him against the wall, his fingertips barely touching the boy's tee shirt. Hinata's eyes are wide open and confused, but he flows with the movement until Kei traps him, keeping his fingers over Hinata's chest, a ghost of a touch.
“What,” the boy asks. His brow furrows, expecting a fight. And Kei is tempted to give him one, to mock him, or insult him, or to even throw a punch. However, he can't do anything but stare at this freak, at this guy he simply can't stand. “What is it?” Hinata repeats, his voice slightly smaller.
Kei draws a breath and leans in very slowly, allowing Hinata time to run. The boy doesn't, so Kei brushes his lips against his in something akin to a caress. He keeps them there, barely touching. He keeps them there and feels Hinata's sudden gasp, his quickening heartbeat, the hitch in his breathing.
Kei kisses him again (one more), this time a tiny bit harder, letting him know what this is, what this means. He's tempted to kiss him a third time but changes his mind. He straightens shortly after that, expecting a shitstorm ready to blow the club room to pieces. Nothing comes. When he looks at Hinata, the boy is just staring at him with slightly pink cheeks and a parted mouth.
After a long pause, Kei clicks his tongue, grunts, and walks out.
He hates Hinata Shouyou and his soft lips.
But he hates himself more.
He skips the meat buns with a poor excuse tossed over his shoulders. “I can't today, I've got some errands to run”. Nobody calls him out on his bullshit, so he walks home faster, leaving Karasuno behind. He's running before he notices, the roar of his blood deafening in his ears.
As he gets home and shuts the door, he tries to convince himself that he is not a coward.
He has a distinctive feeling that he's lying.
In retrospect, he may have given Hinata his first kiss.
He feels both disgusted and proud.
For a whole week, they avoid the issue. Kei pushes the scene to the back of his mind, and Hinata doesn't seem to act any weirder than usual. Practice goes smoothly, and Kei starts to think that this is for the better. Pretending things didn't happen (pretending he doesn't want) is kind of his specialty.
For a whole week, Hinata shouts and Kei teases.
For a whole week, the team improves their receives and their serves.
For a whole week, Kei forgets he gives a fuck.
Then Friday happens.
Sawamura asks him and Yamaguchi to lock up the club room, and they say yes even though Kei just wants to go home and rest. It's dark outside when they manage to finish tidying up, putting away old volleyballs, snack wrappers, and even forgotten pieces of clothing. He can't believe how disgusting his teammates can be.
“Hey,” calls a voice from the door.
Kei turns around and sees Hinata's head peeking into the club room. He stops, a trash bag hanging from his hand. Hinata starts fidgeting but doesn't say a word, and oh, so this is actually going to happen.
He imagines how pretty it would be to tease Hinata, to see him blush furiously where he stands, to make him say the words in front of a third party. To finally cut his wings.
Kei feels magnanimous, though, and turns to Yamaguchi.
“Why don't you get going,” he says, more of an order than a suggestion. “I'll finish this up.”
Yamaguchi blinks a couple of times, his eyes going from Kei to Hinata. He shrugs. “Okay,” he mutters, picks up his bag, and leaves the room. Kei already knows Yamaguchi is good at keeping secrets, but that doesn't mean he won't pester him with questions later on, anyway.
The silence is only broken by the constant buzzing of overhead lights.
Kei drops the trash bag on the floor and puts a hand on his hip. “What?” he asks.
Hinata takes a deep breath before staring at him with those big, round eyes that make Kei feel unsettled. He sets foot inside the club room, closing the door loudly behind him. Kei watches him come closer, cheeks a dark shade of red and eyes determined, until their chests are almost touching. Hinata looks up at him, the angle probably uncomfortable, and wets his lips. Kei follows the movement with his eyes, pretty interested.
Hinata grabs him by his arms, gets on his tiptoes, and kisses him.
This is much, much better than what Kei had in mind.
The kiss is not a simple brush of lips like the first time, but a much fiercer, much hotter pressure, all thanks to Hinata's impatience. Kei breathes through his nose and closes his fingers around Hinata's waist, trying to press him flush against his body.
The position becomes painful after a moment, and Kei parts to grunt an angry “Why are you so short?” directly into Hinata's lips. The boy looks just as irritated as he is. Kei thinks for a moment how cute he looks, and then wants to shoot himself in the face.
“Why are you so tall?” Hinata bites back.
Kei frowns at the tone and decides to take matters into his own hands because Hinata is simply useless. He drops to the floor and takes the boy down with him, maybe a little more forcefully than he intended at first, but way more satisfying when Hinata yelps, surprised. However, it doesn't really matter, because the moment they hit the mat, he crawls on top of Hinata and demands a kiss.
They don't know what they are doing. Their teeth clack painfully a couple of times, and Hinata doesn't keep still, forgetting they have noses that get in the way.
“You suck at this,” Kei says. Hinata is flushed pink underneath him.
“You're one to talk,” he grunts back.
Kei is really not in the mood. He grabs Hinata's wrists and holds them above his head. “Keep fucking still,” he warns, before leaning down and pressing his lips against Hinata's in a tiny kiss. He does it again, and again, until the pace slows down gradually, and the kisses become longer, lips sliding softly and breathing becoming labored.
Kei is still holding Hinata's wrists when he languidly presses his tongue inside the boy's mouth. This—this is new and wet and weird, but something warm and thick pools at the pit of his stomach when Hinata unconsciously sucks on his tongue, and he stops thinking.
He lets go of Hinata's wrists, and the boy instantly grabs his hair, angling his head to go deeper into his mouth. Kei wonders about Hinata's instincts, and how they are coming quite in handy right now. When Hinata's thighs frame his hips, Kei can't help but put a hand on a naked knee, thumbing the soft skin while his tongue swirls inside that warm mouth.
Kei breaks the kiss to look down and finds Hinata wetting his reddened lips, cheeks blushed and eyes glazed, exactly how Kei wants him. They stare at each other, Kei's hand caressing Hinata's thigh.
“I don't even like you,” the boy gasps, eyes darting to look at the stray hand.
Kei may or may not be a little hard in his shorts.
“Figured,” he answers, his voice hoarse.
Hinata grabs him by the collar of his tee shirt. The look in his eyes is so fucking sincere, Kei tries not to gag. “One more?” he asks with that high-pitched voice of his. God, he's fucking annoying.
Kei grunts.
“Okay.”
He doesn't tell himself he's a coward, this time.
He still pretends he doesn't care, though.
Even with Hinata's arms around his neck and his body pliant beneath him, Kei knows it's safer this way.
Kei is fifteen, a mess, and the meanest guy on the team when he wonders if he has managed to cut Hinata Shoyou's wings, or if Hinata Shouyou has managed to make him grow his own.