Chapter Text
“See you later, Kageyama.”
There’s nothing to do, Shouyou told himself as he threw himself onto his bed, his limbs spread out over his sheets, his eyes staring at the ceiling, a hundred thoughts running at once.
There’s nothing to do, really, to stop Tobio from pursuing his dream to be the best volleyball player there is, to stand on top of the world, with or without him. As much as he himself had improved over the years, Shouyou knew better than to simply think that there weren’t much better players than himself out there, ones that could keep up with Tobio as easily if not better.
There’s nothing left to do with the feeling inside him, perhaps inside them, than to let it die without ever being acknowledged. In the end, volleyball will always be the one thing they both put over everything else, even if that means leaving each other behind to pursue their dreams, their ambition in volleyball. After all, they had ended their three years of high school volleyball just coming up short of being on top of Japan.
How had volleyball become such an all-encompassing force in their life, anyway? Shouyou knew, could pinpoint the exact moment that volleyball became his everything. Not when he first saw the Little Giant in the television. Not when he first touch volleyball either. No, perhaps, that moment, the point of no return, came when he first successfully executed a quick with Tobio, both of them overjoyed at their success that Shouyou found himself thinking that yes, he could give his entire life for volleyball.
Maybe, it hadn’t really been volleyball. Maybe it had been Tobio. But there’s nothing left to do, isn’t it? Soon enough, Tobio would join the Japanese Olympic teams, then join a professional club, then become a national volleyball star, perhaps years before Shouyou would even be recruited by a professional club. Leaving him behind for god knows how many years. To let this feelings fester inside him like an untreated wound.
Maybe one day, at their reunion, they will finally acknowledge that feeling. Maybe then he’d finally stop hurting from the unspoken feelings. But that one day definitely wasn’t today.
So he closed his eyes, hoping that the next day would be closer to that day.
When his consciousness began returning to him after a good night sleep, Shouyou didn’t notice that there’s anything wrong. He didn’t notice the way the pillow felt bigger than when he went to sleep, the bed more spacious, the lack of mild discomfort of sleeping in his uniform. When he opened his eyes, he didn’t notice the walls of his room more barren, the lack of the stacks of the books on his desk, the lack of an entire board of pinned photos.
What he noticed was that he’s hungry, so when he smelled the smell of miso soup reeking out from outside his room, Shouyou wastes no time to jump out of his bed and rushed out of his room toward the kitchen, where he found his father stewing on what probably is the miso soup he’s smelling.
A blink.
Weird. His father was supposed to be in The US for work as he had been in the last six years or so of his life, not in Japan making breakfast. Nor was he supposed to look that young, as Shouyou remembered seeing his old man’s increasingly wrinkled face the last time they had a facetime to tell him that he’s in the semi-finals of the Interhigh.
“Dad?” Shouyou blurts out. He immediately paused, his eyes wide because his voice hadn’t sound like for years.
Looking around almost frantically, he quickly noticed that there were so many things that hadn’t been there in his house for years somehow returning other than his father. That ugly painting next to the cabinet, the cabinet that his mother replaced three years ago, the vase he broke when he was thirteen, the microwave they upgraded into a full-fledged oven from a lottery they won, and many more.
Looking down, he realized that he’s not wearing the uniform that he went to sleep with but the shirt that he had passed down to Natsu the moment his little sister turned ten. Now that he thought about it, everything does seemed taller as well, and there’s no way that his limbs were still that short after the mini growth spurt he had in second year.
“Shouyou? Are you okay?” His father called, concern in his voice. It’s strange, to see his father again in the flesh after only talking to him through the phone or facetime for half a decade, especially cooking with an apron. As soon as his mother managed to get her new business all sorted out, she immediately kicks his father out of the kitchen and made it hers instead.
Shouyou blinked, feeling his father’s growing concern. “I-I’m fine. Just… had a bad dream.”
His father frowned. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“It’s nothing, really.” Shouyou waved off, trying to get away from the conversation as quickly as possible. “I can barely remember it already!”
The frown didn’t quite leave his father’s face at his attempt at reassurance. “Okay. But if you need to talk about something, I’m here okay? In the meantime, wake your mother up. The breakfast is about ready.”
“What are we having for breakfast?” Shouyou asked, trying to steer his father as far away as possible from any talk about what just happened and also to keep himself away from the incoming panic.
“The usual. Rice, miso soup, grilled fish, and rolled eggs.” His father replied before going back to the miso soup.
Shouyou practically ran toward his parent’s bedroom and knocked on its door.
“Mom, Natsu, breakfast is almost ready!” He declared. Not long after, he heard some shuffling from within the room and what he recognized as Natsu’s angry protest.
Oops.
Glancing over his shoulder, Shouyou could see his father giving him a withered look to which he could only respond with an apologetic shrug, mouthing off ‘sorry’.
After that, he immediately ran toward the bathroom, yelling out “I’m going to the bathroom!” as he passed behind his father. Once he get there, he immediately jumped onto the stool placed for him and Natsu, slightly disoriented by yet another thing that hadn’t been there for some time yet suddenly existing once again in his house.
He was practically gawking at his reflection when he saw it. He’s definitely much shorter than he should have been, the fat on his cheeks much thicker than the one he had. He quickly made an estimate on how long ago was the last he looked like this and came up with at least six and not more than eight. He remembered having a much shorter hair at nine and definitely being taller at twelve.
Turning on the water, he immediately splashed it onto his face. Nope, the bewildered expression reflected on the mirror was still that of his pre-teen self. Pinching didn’t help either. So yeah, he’s definitely not dreaming. So what the hell is going on?
Not wanting to worry his father, Shouyou quickly dried his face off and went to the dining table to see that both his mother and Natsu already there, the former looking vaguely murderous. Shouyou gulped, he’s definitely getting chewed off by his mother for waking Natsu up so early. If his estimate was correct, then Natsu was still around 5 or 6 years old, and therefore very grumpy about waking up early, and his mother was still only sleeping three hours a day to take care of her still budding from home business.
“Shouyou…” His mother began. “What did I tell you about waking us up too loudly?”
“…that you get a headache from it?” Shouyou meekly said, the lesson pretty much etched into his brain even years after no longer needing it.
“Don’t do it again.” His mother stated and Shouyou nodded vigorously, glad that he’s not getting chewed off first thing in the morning.
Taking a seat on the dining table, Shouyou glanced around to see any concrete way to figure out what day, what month, what year was he in, failing to find any.
The breakfast went by rather peacefully, both his mother and Natsu still too sleepy to make much noise while Shouyou was still too preoccupied with his own concerns to make much noise either. His father still glance at him with worry but said nothing, which Shouyou was grateful for. He tried to start a conversation with his father, nothing that might be suspicious. After some time, they settled into a comfortable banter.
It’s weird, he realized, to eat breakfast with his entire family, with his father present. He hadn’t really been with his father for years and missed the old man greatly, him being the few people that always encouraged him to play volleyball even with all his limitations, even when the other is thousands of kilometers away and could only give said encouragement through the phone.
Even if this turns out to just be a strange dream he couldn’t wake up from on his own or just a strange hallucination, he guessed it’s nice to be able to talk with his father again. He had always been told that he’s more of his father’s child anyway, the man being the shorter between himself and his wife, and the one passionate about sports. Even before finding volleyball, Hinata have always had a knack for sports after all.
Shouyou finally found what he’s looking for when his father asked him to fetch the newspaper for him once breakfast ended. Opening the door and picking it off the ground, Shouyou quickly scanned the newspaper for its dates.
XX July 2006
He was really in the past. To be exact, eight years in the past.
Shouyou went back to when he was ten years old.
Shouyou was left alone in the house for the day. His father had work while his mother had to go out to take care of business with one of her business partner, bringing Natsu with her as the latter had a doctor’s appointment to make sure that the flu that she apparently had a few days previously had completely went away.
“Are you okay in the house alone?” His father asked, worried about Shouyou’s easy acceptance of being left home alone. The man remembered Shouyou not liking to be left home alone, after all. In fact, he was pretty sure that just two weeks ago Shouyou had thrown a fit about being left home alone.
Shouyou nodded. “It’s fine.”
“If you say so.” His father sighed. “You knew how to reheat the food in the microwave right?”
“Come on dad, I’m already ei-ten!” Shouyou protested.
Ignoring the strange slip-up, the older man patted Shouyou’s head. “Just making sure. If you go out make sure to lock the doors and stays safe okay?”
Another nod, and his father took his hand of Shouyou’s head before leaving.
With the door closing, Shouyou let out a big sigh of relief.
Now that he’s alone, he could wonder about his situation freely without worrying anyone else.
The biggest question in his mind was “how?” and “why?”
How did he end up eight years in the past, with all his memories still intact? He definitely didn’t went into a time machine, so that couldn’t be it. Even then, why would he even have to go back in time for? In the movies and manga, the heroes only time travel when they need to save the world and the likes. Unless the apocalypse took place during his sleep, then there’s nothing that threaten the world and humanity’s existence (anymore than itself, at least).
His mind began to wander, the first place it visited being a certain black haired setter.
What is Kageyama doing now? Where is Kageyama by this time? How does he looks like? Is he still an annoying bastard of a king as child?
Shouyou closed his eyes, chuckling self-depreciatively. He’s such a hopeless fool, wasn’t he? Even after an unbelievable occurrence, which a part of him was still convinced to be just a really weird dream, he still thought of Tobio like the idiot he was. He tried to imagine what a ten years old Tobio looked like, and the only thing that came to his mind was just Tobio, but shorter and a little chubbier, with that stupidly parted hair and annoying face still 100% the same as his teenaged self.
He could see that. According to the Grand King, Tobio’s middle school first year self was pretty much identical with his high school self in term of appearance, and Tobio was nothing if not consistent. So that’s definitely a possibility.
Shaking his head, Hinata wondered what he should do to wait out the day. There wasn’t any volleyball in the house, which he definitely would change as soon as possible if he were to stay in the past, and he wouldn’t get his first console until he’s twelve. The books in the bookcase were also things that he have read before several times and he’s pretty sure his parents would freak out if they found out their ten years old son that previously had no interest whatsoever in literature suddenly started reading The Lord of the Rings. So, there’s literally nothing for him to do in the house.
He tried to remember the possible places to play around his house, crossing them off one by one as he realized that he couldn’t go to most of those as a ten years old. Definitely not the bar about ten minute walk away from his house that he and Hitoka stumbled upon in their second year.
Then he remembered. A small indoor volleyball court just around five minute walk from his house that got converted into a storage when he was twelve. It should still be there, if he really want back to the past. When he went to change into clothes that he felt more suitable for playing volleyball, he immediately realized that he didn’t have any particularly sporty clothes yet and there’s no way he could borrow his father’s. So he settled with a simple plain t-shirt and shorts and set out to go.
Making sure he had locked all the doors in his house and its gate, Shouyou immediately took off. The neighborhood around his house didn’t really change much in eight years, most of the buildings still the same. Some just took different purposes in the future, like the court he just arrived to. Feeling himself a little winded, Shouyou realized that he had to adapt with smaller body, shorter limbs, and worse stamina before he could really play volleyball effectively. But he’s there for some fun, so he’s not really concerned about that yet.
Entering the building, he was greeted with a ball smacking into the spot right next to his head.
“Oi, you there! Can you throw the ball back to me?”
Shouyou whipped around to see who had just nearly send a ball straight to his face, ready to yell at whoever it is for not only doing that but also being so rude with his demand, forgetting for a moment that he’s not an eighteen years old teen but just a ten years old kid. Until he saw who it is.
That stupidly parted black hair, those face, those scowl. Those could only belong to one person, and the fact that the owner of those things were practically standing there impatiently like a king waiting for his servant further confirmed it.
“Kageyama?!”