Chapter Text
Yuu lived his childhood with the hope that someday, maybe someday, the consequence of touching would reach him.
“Noya, their captain’s up to serve next. Keep that in mind, yeah? He’s being really pesky today.”
It doesn’t.
Sugawara claps Yuu on the shoulder once, firmly, before pushing him out towards the court. Yuu flinches, once, his heart skips a beat, once, and then he tumbles forward—nothing else.
The whole touching thing, it’s an old wives’ tale, anyways. Some sort of consolation prize for being colorblind. Not that Yuu wants pity, though. It’s just that he admires his grandad so much, he trusted the story to be something like ‘a word to the wise’ from the mouthpiece of a god when he was a little kid.
Hinata approaches from the court to take his seat on the bench and grins as he passes Noya, just narrowly missing fingertips from brushing as he skitters towards Sugawara.
Noya shrugs it off. It never bothers him when his teammates avoid his softened attempts at affection. (Well, that’s what he calls it. Sometimes it really is just brushing fingertips as he walks onto the court.) But Hinata… Hinata hadn’t touched him at all, not once since coming to Karasuno and joining the team. Today is his first game, too, and Noya was almost certain he would get at least a brazen fist bump out of the buzzy, energetic middle blocker. But… he doesn’t.
Yuu takes his place on the court, shrugging his shoulders once more to release the tension building him between them. The head atop his neck still spins though, and the faint hope that maybe Hinata is avoiding him for a reason pokes through just as Tsukishima spikes a serve over the net.
His brain clears like a shaken Etch-a-sketch when the ball comes back over the net—fast. He doesn’t even have time to process the bump, set, or spike before his body’s diving for a dig and the ball smacks the ground on the other side.
He takes a deep breath. He needs to stop thinking about Hinata. There’s no way he knows about the dumb legend, anyway, it’s complete bullshit and Yuu knows it.
He even knew that as a child. But still… some young, ever-naive part of him continues to hope that like in the bedtime story, he too may one day see his world explode in a disarray of color just by a fleeting touch with the one he’ll truly be able to call his soulmate.
He knows better. A soulmate? In today’s society? With divorce rates skyrocketing, toxicity and hatred spreading, and the concept of having multiple partners in a row (or all at once) becoming the new norm? Please. Even his grandad, the man who single-handedly convinced him that someone out there would allow him to see color would become his soulmate, has a new woman attached to his arm at every one of Noya’s volleyball games. He knows better than anyone that the bedtime story he was told as a child is nothing more than just a story.
Nishinoya watches as the ball is thrown back over the net for Tsukishima, another one of his underclassmen, to serve once more. The ball bounces a few times before Tsukishima reaches out to grasp it in his hands and wait for a whistle to signal him forward.
“Nice serve, Tsukki!” A voice from the bench calls out, earning a sneer from Tsukishima. Noya grimaces, too, as the whistle blows and Tsukishima sends a serve over the net. In what feels like record time, the ball is already floating beneath a spiker’s hand.
Noya dives to receive the spike at the same time that Daichi does, but the ball falls just short of the both of them as Noya slides, gently, into Daichi’s side. His knuckles crash against the softness of Daichi’s lower back and their hips bump for less than a second, and yet…
Noya still finds himself holding his breath.
Nothing happens, obviously. Nothing but a blow of the whistle, and the sound of Daichi letting out a soft huff as he turns to ask, “You alright? I didn’t hurt you at all, right?”
“Nah, nah man, I’m fine,” Yuu retorts, gaining his composure as he forces himself to stand back up. His lips tighten when Daichi claps him on the shoulder (is that just like, a weird upperclassman thing to do? He’s always wondered why Suga and Daichi are always clapping him on the shoulder. Maybe it’s just because he’s short) because of course, they do, even something as fingertips brushing his collarbone makes him insane.
Daichi nods, steadily. He looks like the caricature of a leader when he turns to the rest of the team. “We’ll get the next one.”
Noya and his team, in fact, do not get the next one. Or the one after that, or the one after that. And after the fourth time Yuu watches his team fail to put together a decent rally, he realizes that more than anything--he’s out of breath. Completely, and utterly--drained, tired, and exhausted.
His head pounds as he lifts himself off the floor once more, mind spinning with thoughts on their next play, on what the hell he’s going to do with himself when this match is over, on where he needs his feet to be at this very second.
He hates playing Aoba Johsai, more than anything. Hates their stupid, cocky captain and hates his stupid, mind-destroying and arm-numbing serves. Noya knows that last year was a fucking wreck—but he had hoped that maybe this year would be better. He had more hope in those dumb first years when this game had started than he has now, watching as his hope chips away with all of the lost points.
Sure, it’s only a practice match. No way would he let his mind get this distracted over stupid things like soulmates during a real, Spring Tourney match. Alas, the competition in him always prevails, he feels the fire licking the veins in his bruised arms as if this were a real game. Especially, he feels the hatred burning up in his heart and exploding in his head every time the ball hits the floor in front of him. He hates playing Aoba Johsai. Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Yahaba—he loathes them. They made a fool of Karasuno last year, and now he’s watching as they make a fool of the team once more.
“Here!” Kageyama yells as Seijoh’s damned ace, Iwaizumi, slams a serve over the net. Noya leaps for it, bruising the ground to get the ball into the air. Kageyama connects, slipping his long, slender arms beneath the apex of the dig and tips the ball backward. From the ground, Noya watches the beautiful form of his underclassman, Hinata, fly over him and thrust his palm against the ball.
The gym goes silent when Hinata’s feet touch the ground, softly beneath the set of his wings upholding him. It’s been like this every time the duo’s performed a quick--Noya’s starting to get tired of it. Starting to get tired of the way that Hinata instinctively puts his hand up to high-five the setter, just to be denied. Tired that Kageyama seems to be the only one he’ll show any affection to (well, not really. Just physical touch).
He’s irritated, to say the least. And he knows it’s stupid, knows better than anyone that he’s acting like a child. Knows that if anyone were to find out this stupid, stupid grudge of his that he would be laughed to the high heavens. But yet… watching the figures move around him in streaks of gray is starting to become… boring.
What use is he as a Libero if he can't even distinguish himself from the team’s jerseys? Sure, the colors are inverted but the appeal seems to fade every day as the dullness draws over his brain like a numbingly weighted blanket.
Noya knows he’s being ridiculous, but the feeling of being stuck while everyone moves around him at the speed of sound tugs on his mind and rips pieces of his contentment, his happiness out, and throws it around. He knows he’s being ridiculous, his grandpa has been colorblind his entire life and it never seemed to bother him.
But the hope that maybe someday…
Someday just wasn’t coming soon enough, and Noya was tired of waiting for it.
Noya’s eyes flash to attention as his team rotates once more. He slips onto the court, sleek and careful as he taps palms with Tsukishima. Nothing happens, but he already knew that much. And he thinks if that meant Tsukishima was his soulmate, he would rather stay colorblind.
Hinata serves, flashes of gray and black float over the net and only the sound of callous hitting canvas keeps Noya’s head from sinking in the grayscale. Seijoh goes for a perfect bump, set, and their ace bulldozes right through the set.
Noya’s eyes snap to the right as he hears Daichi fall to his knees, fumbling into a slide to get a hand on the ball. It goes up, but it’s shaky and Kageyama barely gets himself under the ball--so Noya sends himself running to save the bad set from falling at Kageyama’s feet.
And though Noya hears it before he sees it, Hinata’s wings spread into a halo around him as he soars in from the right to do just the opposite. Noya watches almost in slow motion as Hinata’s legs spread into a lunge and his arm flies forward to hit the ball over the net before it can be saved.
Yuu has the time, approximately a second or two, to stop himself in his tracks and avoid the impact. But the words screaming in his head to stop moving, to get out of the way right now, to stop running right now and prevent any serious injuries… the words don’t stop the adrenaline in his calves from lunging, or the cramping in the ball of his left foot from kicking off the ground into a diving receive, and his heart freezes as he hits the ground because he knows he’s doomed when he sees the crow above him and hears the sound of palm hitting the ball, and weight falling through the air.
He hears someone yell his name, another telling him to move. But he’s frozen in time as the collision happens. He squeezes his eyes shut tight as a pair of Asics to his shoulder blades sends ringlets of pain through his body. He yelps in pain, but it’s overshadowed by the sound of a loud gasp from Hinata as he hits the ground with a thud.
Instinctively, Noya’s eyelids flutter open:
And his world fills with light.
It takes a few seconds for Nishinoya to even process what’s happened because he’s being pulled off the ground and oh my God, Hinata’s eyes are set on his and his stare just won’t break and he’s thinking, oh my God--if Grandpa could see this shit right now-
“Yuu,” Someone says, but he isn’t listening. He squeezes the brightness out of his eyes and opens them again and holy shit. Holy shit. Hinata’s still looking at him, and his pupils are sparkling, his mouth is hanging open and he’s being lifted to his feet by Kageyama, who’s yelling.
“Noya. Yuu.” He feels a strong set of hands lifting him by the biceps to his feet, and he stands but not without support because he’s busy staring. He refuses to blink for as long as he can, he just watches that set of eyes glittering, swirling with brightness he’s never seen before.
Noya’s concentration breaks when Hinata takes a deep breath, gasping out before stumbling backward. “Oh my God,” he whispers, only loud enough for those closest to him to hear it.
Color surrounds the two of them, covering the world in hues Noya has never seen before. But now? Now, he sees all of it.
He barely grasps on to anything that happens around him, but he knows that this is the piece of his life that he’s been waiting for. The piece that’s been missing--it fills his soul until he feels like he’s floating with the color that fills his world.
“Do… Do you feel it too?” Yuu hears, softly, watching as Hinata shakily steps towards him.
Noya nods. It’s instinctual, he doesn’t even feel his head moving until Hinata covers his mouth to keep a sob from falling out. Words are flying around him, people yelling and grabbing at him and Hinata, but his focus doesn’t falter. He feels as if he and Hinata are the only two people left in the gym, in the universe.
And by God, is Hinata bright.
“Y-your hair,” Nishinoya stutters, shaking his shoulder out of Daichi’s grasp as the captain tries to turn him around. Ignoring Tanaka, a flash of light, as he approaches to figure out what the fuck has happened. Noya was glued to Hinata, and his hair… What kind of color was that?
What color was that? And more importantly, Noya finally realizes, murmuring “I… see everything now.”
Nobody listens. “Noya!” Daichi screams, and finally, it washes over Nishinoya with urgency.
He blinks a few times, shocked, before dazing forward at his team captain. “Huh?”
“Noya, are you okay? What’s wrong with you?” Daichi murmurs, putting the back of his hand to Noya’s forehead as if checking for a fever.
“I can see everything…”
The space between the net and Daichi’s shoulder is occupied by Hinata, a few feet back… watching. He’s on his own, being shaken by Sugawara. But he doesn’t break away.
Noya shakes his head and speaks straight forward. “You have such beautiful eyes, Shoyo.”
Hinata blushes.
Daichi furrows his eyebrows, confused. Aoba Johsai from across the court waits so patiently, Iwaizumi dribbles the volleyball like a basketball as he agonizes for his turn to serve. Coach Ukai makes his way onto the court to examine the situation.
“What’s going on? Are you two hurt?” Ukai asks, shuffling over to Noya and Hinata, both with flushed cheeks and glistening eyes.
Yuu continues in a daze, although his subconscious pokes at him to get up and continue. He doesn’t have the time or the mental capacity to explain that his childhood dream of regaining his color sight has come true--or to explain how it came true.
He’s too preoccupied watching the gymnasium lights illuminate in Hinata’s hair. God, if only he could know what color that was. If only he could ask right now, ‘What color is your hair, Shoyo? It’s so beautiful on you.’
He doesn’t say it. He blinks his eyes a few more times instead and when Coach Ukai shakes his shoulder, he nods and says, “I’m okay. Sorry.” He turns to Hinata, still starry-eyed. “Are… are you alright, Shoyo?” His voice diminishes to a near whisper.
“I…,” Shoyo starts, examining Noya up and down. Yuu finds it peculiar, was Shoyo colorblind as well? What happened to him just then? Because something is different, Yuu knows it’s not just the glowing color of life that surrounds the volleyball game.
Yuu takes a deep breath as Shoyo takes a moment to recalibrate. He looks up to the ceiling, back in control of his senses. He stares in awe. Those artificial lights truly are glorifying.
“Hinata?” Daichi asks, repeating Yuu's statement.
“I’m okay, I’m okay.”
Yuu turns his head and finds himself making severe eye contact with the boy he just slammed into the ground not even two minutes ago. As Daichi and Coach Ukai dissipate from the two, Noya leans in and his breath brushes Hinata’s neck as he whispers to him, “We’ll talk after this. Okay? We will. But they don’t know. Only us.”
Hinata nods, he seems to know the extent of their secret as well.
Yuu cracks a grin as he repositions himself on the court and the whistle blows for Aoba Johsai to serve once again. A secret, huh? His granddad wouldn’t believe any of it. It’s an old wives’ tale.
So how did it happen to him? Why did it happen to him?
Fortunately, those questions held little importance in Yuu’s mind. The entire remainder of the match, his mind soars with one question and one question only: what fucking color is Hinata’s hair?
He awaits an answer, stalling his mind to moor over everything else. The soulmate thing--that stays their little secret as they sneak glances at one another throughout the next two matches. As they envelop one another into an embrace when their last point is earned and Karasuno rejoices. As they sneak a kiss in the locker room after the game, when their locker doors are open, and can hide them from the rest of the team for a split second to taste one another’s excitement.
After hours of thrumming hearts and secret-keeping: the two boys are finally alone. They hung around until the rest of their teammates left and now they stand in the cold outside of the school in their jackets and winter hats. Face to face, finally, Yuu lets out a breath of air.
There are a million questions to be asked: What comes next? Who should know about this? Who would know about this? Was it merely a coincidence? What are we to one another, now that we’re soulmates?
Yuu doesn’t ask any of them. Instead, he opts for an easier start. “What happened to you?”
Shoyo sighs off the exhilaration of a game won and a soulmate reclaimed and he says, “I can feel.”
“What?”
“I can feel, now.”
Yuu cocks his head. It makes a lot of sense, he thinks, for Shoyo to have no pain tolerance. With the bruises all on his arms, and his ability to practice for hours and hours on end… His reluctance to ever touch Yuu during the games when subbing out…
Yuu doesn’t press any further. Not tonight. Instead, he nods. He shuffles close until his shoulder presses up against Shoyo’s. “I can see color, now.”
Shoyo smiles ever so lightly.
No other words are spoken as the moon rises in the sky and the sun packs itself away. The two have the rest of their lives to answer everything else.
As they walk one another home, hands softly intertwined under the pressure of the cold wind stirring in the moonlit night, Yuu only asks one more question.
“Anyways… What color is your hair?”
Hinata giggles as he drops Yuu off at his house, standing with him on the porch. He leans in to place a soft kiss on Yuu’s cheek, then whispers to Yuu the answer to his question.
Shoyo untwines their fingers and smiles as if to say, ‘goodnight’ before he steps down the few stairs that lead to Yuu’s house and onto the sidewalk. All the while, his hair bounces in the rays of the moon colorful and opalescent as it turns all of the world’s sights to milk and darkness. The brightness of Hinata’s hair, however, does not fade as he retreats away.
Yuu decides that that is his favorite color.