Chapter Text
Tobio Kageyama had always known that the way he saw the world was different from everyone else’s. The world around him was more than something he could sense, something he could touch or see or smell. Everything that made up his world was information. It made sense that with his view of the world he worked so well as a setter. Everyone on the court was a variable, and as his team’s control tower all he had to do was plug them into an equation and execute to guarantee his victory. Until recently, at least.
He didn’t consider it demanding to ask that his team’s numbers stay the same. To ask that someone jumped at a height he knew they were capable of or that they hit their marks at the correct time. His equations would never make sense with faulty math. He knew how to win, but his desire for consistent numbers from his teammates had left him without a team to count on.
That was in the past now. He had a new team, and he knew he had to be more lenient this time. The club members of Karasuno High seemed much more passionate about the game, but that didn’t assure consistent performance. He needed to let himself become a variable. He had to adjust his tosses and his timing to suit his new team if he wanted them to stay.
Shōyō Hinata proved the easiest of his team to practice with. He put everything into his jumps and spiked with all the energy and force his puny body could muster. With him, Tobio could focus exclusively on the timing and the force of his tosses. All he had to do was deliver the ball into Hinata’s hand.
“Kageyama?”
Tobio blinked. He looked around, realizing he was standing in the field behind Karasuno High. He looked at the volleyball in his hands and grimaced upon realizing he had lost himself staring at it. He looked up at Hinata, who was giving him a queer look.
“Sorry.” Tobio sheepishly apologized. How long had he spent in his thoughts? Did Hinata find it odd?
“It’s okay.” Hinata assured. He was beaming, evidently hungry for further practice. “Can I get another toss?”
“Yeah.” Tobio answered.
He cleared his vision and took a step back. He arched his back, throwing the ball up into the air. Hinata was in position faster than Tobio could instruct him. The volleyball reached its zenith. Tobio shifted ever so slightly in preparation to toss. Hinata dashed forward. Tobio’s eyes locked onto him, wide and dagger-like, absorbing every detail in his movement as if he were hunting prey. The ball fell into his hands as Hinata ascended. He squared in on Hinata’s hand.
The key to any toss was Newton's second law. Force equals mass times acceleration. The mass of the volleyball was immutable and unchanging. All he had to do was exert the amount of force he desired and he would have full control over how fast the ball accelerated. The greater the force, the greater the object’s acceleration. Accounting for distance, he could deliver the ball anywhere he needed in the shortest amount of time possible.
Tobio tossed. The ball closed the gap between his hands and Hinata’s immediately. Hinata spiked the ball into the chain link fence bordering the school’s exterior. A loud thwack carried across the open field. It felt like time slowed down as the ball came to a halt in a now dented portion of the fence. Tobio’s face was burning. The air was filled with static. His hands buzzed like they were charged with electricity.
When Hinata’s feet touched the ground, Tobio could tell that he felt the same, that he had the same energy in him. He could see it in his eyes. Hinata looked at his hand and smiled. His smile grew wider as his palm turned a bright red. He lowered it to his side, shaking it as if hoping to release that energy. He looked at the ball and then back at Kageyama.
Tobio grinned at Hinata. At least he hoped he was grinning. He had never been all too good at expressing how he felt. It wasn’t until last year that he understood why. He had never done anything to warrant it before; he had never faced any developmental difficulties, he had never struggled in class, but after facing team-wide resentment his parents resorted to getting him tested. Autism Spectrum Disorder. Something about the diagnosis clicked with Tobio. It brought so much understanding to so many aspects of his life that he had previously struggled to put words to. At his age he couldn’t hope to change how he had developed, but he could take it into account going forward. He had to try and connect with people better.
“Good job, Hinata.” he sputtered out. The words felt strange on his lips. He worried for a moment that he didn’t sound sincere. Hinata’s smile dissuaded that worry. Suddenly his grin didn’t feel so forced.
“Thanks!” Hinata shouted. Tobio wondered if he knew how loud he was being.
Hinata stood upright. He shook his hands, both of them this time, and hopped from one foot to the other. Had he tossed too hard? He didn’t think it was appropriate to ask now. He made a note in the back of his mind to ask next time. Tobio approached the fence and picked up the ball. Something about it felt different from when he had tossed it. It felt heavier.
“Can we do another?”
Tobio turned his head and looked at Hinata. Something about him looked strained, overexerted. A smile played briefly on his lips. He held the volleyball in both hands and spun it in place.
“I think we’ve practiced enough for today.” he admitted. He couldn’t hold the level of concentration his body required for setting much longer and he knew it. He spun the ball again. “We should take this back to the gym before it gets dark and head to Sakanoshita. I promised you a meat bun when we finished training, after all.”
A different kind of excitement was painted on Hinata’s face. His hair seemed to stand on end, even more than it usually did. Something built up inside him and he sprung into the air. “Meat buns!” he exclaimed. Tobio wondered if Hinata had forgotten about his promise.
They collected their things and walked side by side back to the gymnasium. Tobio spun the ball in his hand and tossed it from one to the other. It was a mindless exercise, something he was so used to that he could perform without looking. Hinata’s hands clasped the straps of his bag, tugging on them and brushing the material with his thumbs. Everyone had their small rituals, Tobio guessed.
The gym was almost empty when they entered. Sugawara and Tanaka were packing up equipment from their own practice. Daichi and Kiyoko stood by the platform and looked over papers. Both pairs seemed preoccupied with their activities and Tobio had no intention of interrupting either. His plan was simple: he would return the ball to the equipment room, give the team a brief goodbye and leave with Hinata in tow.
He was forced to change his plans almost immediately when Hinata ran over to assist Sugawara and Tanaka. For as reliable as his numbers were ingame, Tobio struggled to predict his actions outside of it. He was surprised at how little this bothered him. Maybe he was getting used to Hinata’s abstract nature.
Tobio didn’t understand why he clung so tightly to Hinata's side. Was it that he got along with him easier than anyone else on the team? Was it because he had already been forced to bond with him before he joined the club? He couldn’t put his finger on it, but for some reason it just made sense to spend more time with him than anyone else. He spun the volleyball in his hand once again and walked to the equipment room.
Tobio returned the ball to its home and passed through the gym with little acknowledgement from the rest of the members. That was how he preferred it. He could bond with them when he had the energy to. Right now all he wanted to do was go to Sakanoshita and eat meat buns with Hinata.
“I’ll see you all tomorrow.” he announced to the club. He opened the door, paused, and amended his statement. “I’ll be waiting outside, Hinata.”
A chorus of goodbyes rung through the gymnasium. Tobio exited and took a seat by the stairs. He turned his head to the sun, its light dimming as it drew closer and closer to the western horizon. He waited for Hinata to finish tidying.
He heard a set of footsteps behind him and turned his head. It was Daichi. He wasn’t surprised to see the club captain leaving, but felt mild annoyance that Hinata was taking so long. He shuffled to the side to allow him to pass. He felt confusion when Daichi instead took a seat next to him.
“Captain.” Tobio greeted, acknowledging his upperclassmen presence.
“Kageyama.” Daichi responded. It was clear he wanted to say more, but struggled to find the words. Tobio’s brow furrowed. What did he want to talk about? Was he upset? Thoughts of what sort of conversation would ensue quickly filled his head. He was immediately flooded with situations and outcomes, most of them bad. Had he done something wrong? Had his new team already had enough of him?
“Kageyama,” Daichi said again, “thank you for getting along with Hinata.”
Tobio’s thoughts came to a halt. Static played in his mind. He looked down at his hands. He didn’t have a volleyball in them, but one of his hands flicked upwards as if tossing one. He clenched both hands shut.
“Thank you?” he responded, unfortunately unable to hide his confusion.
Daichi steepled his fingers, then interlocked them. He was questioning himself, Tobio assumed. He kept his eyes to himself, trying to pass time until Daichi found more words.
“I just-” he finally spoke, only to pause once more. “We know about your history with Kitagawa Daiichi.”
Every muscle in Tobio’s face itched. He couldn’t tell what expression he made, but guessing from Daichi’s reaction it likely wasn’t all too pleasant.
“I don’t mean that in a negative way,” Daichi tried to clarify, “I can see you’ve been making strides to improve your interpersonal relationships.”
Tobio relaxed. He wasn’t being criticized. He sighed and looked up at Daichi once more. For as poor as his abilities to read others were, he could clearly see concern in his eyes.
“I just wanted you to know that I appreciate that you’ve been working with Hinata. I understand that it might not have been easy.”
Tobio fell back into confusion. Hinata could be oblivious and even aggravating at times, but he was the most reliable teammate he could hope to work with. He was a talented and dedicated spiker, and they understood each other. What about that made him hard to get along with?
“Why?”
Tobio’s confusion seemed to dig away at Daichi. He pursed his lips, seeming to fight against what he wanted to say. Tobio’s eyes bore into him, though he had no intentions of interrogating him.
“Because,” Daichi hissed out, hating himself for being so blunt, “because Hinata’s autistic. I worried he’d struggle to bond with anyone on the team.”
Hinata’s autistic. Those two words echoed inside Tobio’s mind. In much the same was that things just clicked when he received his own diagnosis, things seemed to fall into place around him. Hinata’s oblivious nature. The way he fixated on volleyball in omission of everything else. The way he reacted when the ball hit his hand. The way he’d hop around when he was overexcited, and how he always seemed to occupy his hands with some object or activity. It all clicked. Hinata’s autistic.
“Oh.”