Chapter Text
The first time Hinata finds himself talking about Kageyama, it’s because of Nice.
He’s in the middle of a long afternoon of practice with Heitor, and Nice has dropped by before a long evening shift at the restaurant where she works. She had strolled through the sand towards her boyfriend, short jean shorts low on her hips and a white tank just above, with long silver earrings that clinked together and glinted in the sun. Her long blonde hair, with its remnants of a darker shade once dyed near the tips, was pulled high into a ponytail, revealing beads of sweat near the nape of her tanned neck as she stood on tiptoes to press a quick kiss to Heitor’s lips in greeting. She carried her shoes in one hand, and a bag was draped on the opposite shoulder.
“Mind if I stay for a bit? I need a little more sunshine before I’m stuck inside all night.” With this she swiveled on the balls of her feet to look at Shouyou, waving the hand that carried her shoes and giving him a quick wink.
Of course, Hinata and Heitor both vocalized their happiness that she stay, and so she turned to walk beyond the lines of the beach volleyball court to sit on the sand where she could see both their spikes and the late afternoon sky painting itself across Guanabara Bay.
It was a rather quiet weekday afternoon on Flamengo Beach. Pão de Açúcar reached up into the sky out on the peninsula, and the sounds of the gulls, the city behind her, and the familiar slap of a ball being hit across a net was comforting, and familiar. It made it easy to simply sit and watch. And for awhile, that is all she did, watching the boys and watching the way the sky performed it's daily interchange. At sunset, when the bright and forceful light of the day was quieted by the gentle blue and purple of night descending upon it. In the sea, this beginning of the dominion of the night over day was reflected, making the entire tableau one stunning gradient of color. It was impossible to tire of it, and Nice always detected a little echo of mourning within herself as she watched the sun slip behind the sea and the mountains, not to find purchase on the world until the morning, when it would triumphantly climb to the top of the sky and ignite the world again.
Even Heitor seemed inclined to admire the setting sun, and he would hesitate just the slightest bit when picking up their ball on the other side of the net, or when he was waiting for Shouyou to toss to him. He would glance out over the bay for just a second, and it made Nice smile with contentment and warmth. Shouyou, on the other hand, was so focused on volleyball it would have been worrying, had Nice not known him as she did. She had come to expect his endless talk of the sport and his goals, and she had begun to admire the young man. He was endearing and kind, and she had begun to suspect that even if she hadn’t liked the sport, she would have been able to listen to him talk about it as long as he wished.
“Shouyou!” She called, teasing, seeing if she could distract the boy from his intense concentration. “What are the sunsets like in Japan?!”
“Wha—?!” Shouyou’s form flickered briefly as he was reaching up to spike one of Heitor’s tosses, and he quickly smacked the ball to the sand on the other side of the net before landing and wheeling to look at Nice, his orange hair wild and windswept.
Nice laughed. “I just wondered, you know. Heitor and I love sunsets, I was thinking maybe it would be a good place to go on our honeymoon.”
Shouyou’s eyes grew round as Heitor’s cheeks burst into color behind him. Shouyou began to grapple for a response, “uhm, they're...—”
Nice’s laughter continued to sound, amused at their reactions. “Did Ninja Shouyou take any high school girls on romantic walks in the mountains of Japan in the evening?”
Now it was Shouyou’s turn to blush, his already tan skin darkening above his cheekbones. He looked at the top of the net above him, eyes going a little unfocused as he thought back to his time in high school.
“I mostly trained, in the evenings. But sometimes after games or training camps in the summer we would see the sunset.” His eyebrows pulled down a little, as if he was trying to remember a time he had devoted attention to the sinking sun. “It was, they were... nice,” he settled on, as he dipped his back beneath the net to grab the ball.
“That sounds like you!” Heitor piped up, hands on his hips. “Man, your high school team had to have been pretty serious to train every night.”
“No. Well yes, they were serious. But it was usually just me and..., me and one other player who stayed late.” With this, Shouyou’s mouth turned down just a fraction, a rare sight to see from someone Heitor and Nice had come to know as usually cheerful and smiling.
Hinata had realized, over the course of his time in Rio, that, apart from Oikawa-san, he hadn’t spoken about Kageyama to any of his new friends. Even with Kageyama being relatively well-known with the Olympics and known among serious beach volleyball players, something always prevented him from speaking about the three years in high school that they’d shared. He had come here to build strength, and to become better. There were so many new experiences to have and people to play volleyball with, but for some reason, voicing his true motivation for wanting to become a professional player, while standing on a sandy beach all the way across the world, felt strange and uncomfortable, in a way that made him feel as if his time at Karasuno should be kept wrapped up inside of him. It was as if this one thing still made him as worried as he was about everything when he first arrived in Brazil… how could he talk about Kageyama when all this new and unfamiliar world was spread out in front of him? He had opted to dive headfirst into the new challenge of beach volleyball, rather than think about this dilemma, even if his desire to beat Kageyama lingered constantly in his mind.
Right now, though, with Nice’s question hanging in the air, he couldn't help but think about Kageyama. The countless nights they’d spent practicing, their partially shared commutes home, when they would walk together, before Hinata would jump on his bike and head over the mountain towards his house. The mornings they’d spent racing to the club room as the sun rose behind them. All of that, suddenly, was at the front of Hinata’s mind, when it hadn't been for quite some time now.
“One other player, hm?” Nice asked now, staring at Shouyou with curiosity. His pause and his frown had made her expression shift a little, her dark eyes looking across the sand to Hinata. A breeze was blowing, gently pulling at her ponytail, and the light was growing slightly dimmer as the sun descended below the horizon somewhere behind her. “He must’ve been pretty dedicated too, then. Do you miss him?”
Nice knew how Heitor felt about volleyball, about how he tended to regard it simply as a job. And she also knew how Hinata was always running around trying to find someone to play with. It made sense that he must’ve had someone to practice nonstop with in Japan. Otherwise, she doubted he would be as good as he was.
The question made Hinata pause. Did he? Miss Kageyama? The first couple months he had been here, he had felt a terrible homesickness for all of his team, and his life in Japan. He had adjusted, eventually, and found life in Rio to be colorful and lively and wonderful, but still, a hole remained that had once been filled by his partner, his best friend. Someone who he had complete faith in, and he in him. It was true that he loved his life abroad, but…
Hinata felt as heat crept up his neck again, complicated feelings whirling within him. He pictured Kageyama in his mind—not their last conversation before Hinata had taken off across the world, which had its own undercurrent of expectation and anticipation, and which made Hinata’s chest feel heavy, but the moments when he used to watch Kageyama after or before a match: writing in his journal, tying his shoes, caring for the fingertips that as if through magic unfailingly sent balls right into the middle of Hinata’s palms, all with that unwavering, frowny expression that he always wore when focused on winning. Three years of being next to Kageyama, and now, if he let his mind wander too far, it would stray to that uneasy spot it had when he first arrived in Brazil. The edge of a troubling, wide void where Kageyama’s clear blue eyes and an unspoken promise called to him.
He kicked one foot a little in the cool grains of sand beneath the surface. “I think—”
Heitor was suddenly behind him, hand slapping him across the back. The action served to dislodge Hinata from his thoughts. “Ya know, if you're ever feeling lonely, you can always come stay at our place, we'd be glad to have you for a day or two.”
All at once, remembering that he was supposed to be having practice, simple, straightforward practice, with his friend, and feeling a little embarrassed about how quickly his mood had turned and the time he’d now spent lost in thought rather than playing, Hinata flashed a smile at Heitor to reassure him.
He’s still waving him off when Nice speaks again, as she stands and brushes some of the sand from her legs. “Well, it's only natural that you’d miss the people who helped you,” she says.
Hinata looks to her, as she walks up to him and gives him a smile in return, in addition to ruffling his hair. “I have an idea. While of course you are welcome to stay with us every once in a while, I think maybe we could start with an afternoon out. This Friday, there’s some casual games going on on Ipanema, and Heitor and I were planning on hanging out there for a bit. Why don’t you join us? Have you ever been near Rua Farme de Amoedo?”
“Rua Farme—isn’t that Posto 8...” Nice looks at Heitor, and something passes between them. Heitor stops, shrugs, while Hinata tips his head in the beginning of a nod, already accepting the offer to play against new players.
“Yes! I’ll come! When do games start?”
Nice laughs at the speed at which he was able to rebound from his abrupt change in demeanor, and tells him they were planning to be there around seven.
With that, she tells both Heitor and Hinata that she has to get going for work. Heitor sheepishly tells Hinata that he too needs to get going. The sun has vanished from the sky, so seeing the ball would be difficult now anyway. Hinata acquiesces, for now, and with the promise of more volleyball two days from now. He has a day full of delivery-work and helping out with classes tomorrow, and then indoor practice Friday morning. He’s excited to have his afternoon full on Friday now, and so he cheerfully says goodbye to Heitor and Nice before heading to unlock his bike from where he’s parked it just off the sidewalk that snakes alongside the beach.
His and Pedro’s apartment isn't far from Flamengo Beach, luckily, and so it takes less than twenty minutes before he is flinging the door open, toeing off his shoes and heading immediately for the kitchen.
Resolving himself not to think about his mood, or Kageyama, for the rest of the night, Hinata busies himself at the stove. His love of cooking had its origins in his second year of high school; recovering from losses while simultaneously looking for ways to keep moving, he had turned to it with initial caution, but resolute determination. Now, being able to govern what kinds of food he ate, and knowing how it was helping to nourish his muscles and his mind, was extremely satisfying.
He’s also found that it’s fun to cook for others, and after he and Pedro began finding some common ground, Hinata immediately started cooking for his roommate as well. This was partially out of a desire to remedy Pedro’s questionable diet of cheap cornerstore food, but also just simply because he enjoyed it. It meant Hinata could talk to someone while he ate, and even if Pedro tended to be a rather quiet companion, his presence still helped with the loneliness near the beginning.
So, about half an hour later, after he’s cooked the rest of the cabbage that was in the fridge and filled two bowls with rice—him with plain white rice and Pedro with rice that's been fried with garlic and onions, the way he liked his, and warmed some of the bean and beef stew he had made earlier in the week, he finds himself sitting at the table with Pedro across from him, eating contentedly.
“Have you ever been to the beach in front of Rua Farme de Amoedo?” Hinata asks him, as he’s mulling over his plans for the next couple of days. He’s been to some parts of Ipanema, but is still a little unsure about navigating that busy part of the city. He figures Pedro would probably have advice about getting there.
Pedro jerks a little in his seat, looking up his bowl as he scoops rice into his mouth with a fork. Hinata doesn't notice how he suddenly looks a little hesitant when he says “No, why?”
Hinata explains that Nice had invited him to go Friday afternoon, adding on that he was trying to figure out the best way to get there. He knew the area well enough to know that it was too wealthy for many people living around it to order from Hinata’s work.
“Oh,” is all Pedro says, poking at the chunks of cabbage on his plate. “Why would she offer to take you there?”
He’s looking at Hinata a little strangely, even after he tells him he’s going because there will be games going on that day. Pedro opens his mouth and shuts it a couple times before eventually just saying, “Yeah, sure, I can show you how to get there.”
Hinata smiles. “Great!” he says, and then he launches into a telling of the things he had done today, gesticulating with his utensils as he describes his morning shift, and then his late practice with Heitor.
Later that night, as Hinata is drying and putting away dishes and Pedro has said his nightly “Thanks for dinner, Shouyou!” before slipping his earbuds into his ears and heading into his bedroom, he gets a text from Yachi.
FIVE MONTHS! :D
It was early morning in Japan, the same day of the month that Hinata had gotten on a plane and travelled for more than a day to get to Rio, nineteen months ago. Trust their reliable Karasuno manager to still be keeping close tabs on the four teammates she graduated with, and knowing exactly how long it would be until he returned to Japan. Hinata grinned down at his phone, tapping out a reply.
It's going by sooo fast!
He attached a photo of a rainbow he had spotted over the mountains and sea back a week or so ago after a sudden downpour, and decided to add another line asking how her design courses were going. Her response was almost immediate.
Beautiful!
And then,
I’m really enjoying them!
Hinata could see she was still typing, and then stopping, and then typing again. He waited until a third text pinged into his messages.
Did Kageyama tell you about the match last week?
Hinata felt his mouth turn down at the corners, his promise not to think about Kageyama tonight already being inadvertently broken. He knew what Yachi was talking about, though—the national team had played Russia on Thursday and they had won singlehandedly, Kageyama scoring three service aces in the second set alone. It was an amazing game.
He also knew what Yachi was trying to do. Hinata had accidentally told her over the phone once that Hinata and Kageyama had not really talked, at all, except about casual things, since Hinata had moved here. She had asked why, and even Hinata didn't have an answer. Well, he did have one. Kageyama was terrible at face-to-face communication, never mind texting. Asking him to be coherent via a keypad was just asking too much.
But beyond that, it also felt like what he was doing here was somehow his own, and he couldn't show Kageyama, yet. He had to wait.
But it was hard to articulate that to Yachi-san.
He didn't, did he?
Unable to formulate a reply, Hinata put the last of the now-dry utensils in the drawer and hurried to his room to get ready to take a shower, carrying his phone with him. He gathered his towel and pajamas, sighing as he plugged in his phone to charge. He looked at it for a couple more seconds before sending off:
He’s probably just busy with, y’know, interviews and stuff!
And then,
Goodnight Yachi!!
He felt guilty ending their conversation, but, as he stood in the bathroom, peeling off his shorts and tank, he resolved himself to continue to avoid thinking about Kageyama. Stepping under the hot spray of the shower, he found himself sighing and internally apologizing to Yachi. He just couldn't distract himself from what he still wanted to achieve here, and that meant keeping his mind focused on beach volleyball.
And luckily, that would be easy, seeing as in one day he would have a whole weekend of playing, plus Friday night.
Closing his eyes, he let the warm water wash through his hair and down his body, picturing bright sand and crashing waves, tumultuous and blue.