Chapter Text
“Hey, Tsukki, aren’t you going to eat that?”
Kei glanced over the rim of his glasses to look at his friend. Yamaguchi blinked, lips pressing together sheepishly as he turned away. “S-sorry, that was out of nowhere.”
“It’s fine,” Kei sighed. He poked at the yakizakana on his plate, grimacing as the flesh peeled off the fish. He suppressed the urge to wrinkle his nose. He’d never liked grilled fish.
“Do you want it?” he asked his friend, subtly nudging his plate toward Yamaguchi.
Yamaguchi looked hesitant. “But you’ve only eaten your rice! I don’t want you to go hungry.”
Kei snorted. “I’m not very hungry. I must be coming down with a cold or something.” Yamaguchi still shot him a skeptical glance, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m serious, you can have it.”
His friend smiled at him, although it seemed forced, and used his chopsticks to scoop the rest of the yakizakana onto his plate. “Thanks, Tsukki,” he beamed, practically shoving the fish into his mouth. Kei’s face pinched in disgust as he wondered how the hell Yamaguchi, or anyone else for that matter, managed to force down something that disgusting.
Kei shook his head slightly, pushing his squeamishness aside. He took another bite of uruchimai and felt as if he could cry in relief. Rice remained one of the only textures he could stand, and it had no flavor unless something was added into it. Both were bonuses, in his eyes.
“I’m going upstairs,” he muttered, pushing his chair back to stand. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him as he scooped the rest of his meal into the trash, but he elected to ignore them.
“Kei, can you at least try to eat a little more?” his mother scolded, though the worried tone in her voice was not lost on her son.
“I told you, I’m not hungry.”
He huffed out a breath and removed his headphones from around his neck. He placed them over his ears, selecting a song as he climbed the staircase. By the time he reached his bedroom and flopped on the bed, he’d already started playing one of those weird English rap songs. He groaned into the pillow, feeling his stomach rumble. Ignoring the sensation, Kei closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift into an uneasy slumber.
.
.
.
“Hey, Tsukki, breakfast is ready,” a voice (too cheerful for so early in the morning) chirped right in his ear. A hand carded gently through his hair.
“Yama..?” he muttered, turning his head so his cheek rested on the pillow. Yamaguchi hovered over him, his arm outstretched and a gentle smile on his face. Kei felt the hand carding through his locks stop to rest over his ear.
Yamaguchi grinned nervously. “Your mom made omurice. You didn’t have much last night, so she made something you like.”
Kei felt a wave of guilt wash over him. His poor mother knew all about his pickiness. She’d spent countless nights in his childhood yelling at him to finish his food, downright forcing him to eat at times. He couldn’t help but feel bad that she had to cater to his extremely specific tastes. Akiteru had never been that hard to deal with.
“Why are you still here, by the way?” he asked, pushing himself up. Yamaguchi pulled his hand back. Kei fumbled around, patting the comforter until he found his glasses.
Yamaguchi slid off the bed, reaching for his open gym bag and stuffing what appeared to be his team jacket into it. “Ah- it was late by the time dinner wrapped up. Your mom offered to let me stay.”
Kei blinked. “Hm. I guess that makes sense.”
“Come on, you’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry,” Yamaguchi teased, poking him in the side. Kei jumped, stifling what would have been a rather embarrassing giggle, and lightly shoved his friend towards the door.
“Alright, alright,” Kei grumbled, though he made sure to smirk a little at Yamaguchi so his tone didn’t seem too harsh.
Yamaguchi snickered and disappeared, slinging his backpack over one shoulder and his gym bag over the other. “Better hurry, or Akiteru and I are gonna eat all of the omurice!”
Kei snorted, shaking his head. He was cruelly reminded of his decision to forgo dinner the previous night when his stomach twisted. A pang of nausea shot through him. He swallowed thickly against it and reached for the half-eaten granola bar that sat on his nightstand. He’d eaten the other half yesterday. It was common for him to wake up with unbearable hunger pains, and the little bit of food in his stomach helped suppress them until he could eat an actual meal.
He dragged himself to the bathroom, taking his practice uniform with him. He made quick work of brushing his teeth and hair, pulling on the team-issued shirt and pants. By the time he’d arrived at the table, Yamaguchi had already finished his meal. Akiteru, ever the slow eater, still worked on finishing his omurice.
“Tsukki! You actually made it!” Yamaguchi teased, handing his plate over to Kei’s mother. Yamaguchi hurried back to the table, plopping down in his spot and propping his head up with his hands. He leaned forward as Kei sat.
“Kei, do you want anything on it?” his mother asked.
“No thank you,” he muttered, mumbling a soft “itadakimasu” under his breath.
He picked up his chopsticks and began his daily ritual of poking at his food. He managed to choke down the egg and rice. Omelettes had a weird texture. It wasn’t necessarily bad, but it wasn’t particularly good either. The taste was alright. Not the best, but he could name worse things. His mother knew it was one of the only meals he would eat, hence why she made it so often. He guessed she didn’t know that he really wasn’t too fond of it. The rice did make a bit more tolerable though.
“Are you ready for practice?” Yamaguchi beamed, eager to start a conversation. “I heard we’re doing three-on-three's today.”
“Really?” Kei asked around a bite of omurice. He washed down the taste with a gulp of water, trying not to outwardly show his disgust at the aftertaste.
“Yep!” he chirped, “I overheard Suga and Daichi after practice yesterday. Hinata and Kageyama's teamwork is abysmal, apparently, and they wanna work on coordination before next week.”
“We’re playing Nekoma, right?”
“Uh-huh. Their coach has been all over Ukai lately. It’s a little scary.”
Kei stared down at his plate, grunting out a noncommittal noise.
“Kei, stop playing with your food and just eat it,” his mother scolded.
He flinched, fingers gripping tighter around his chopsticks. His hand trembled, his lips pressed together. A single blink sent him back into a memory he’d rather forget.
“Eat your food already, Kei! It’s not difficult!”
“No!” Kei screamed, squirming away from his mother’s death grip. “I hate it!”
“I worked hard to make this! You’re going to eat it!”
“NO! No! I don’t wanna!”
“Do you want me to take you to the hospital?! You’re going to get a feeding tube if you keep this up! Stop being ungrateful and eat your dinner!”
Kei sobbed as his mother shoved a clump of yakisoba into his mouth. It was so, so disgusting. The noodles were too sticky and felt soggy and gross and-
“Tsukki? Are you okay? You kinda spaced out there for a minute.”
Kei blinked at his friend. He grimaced, noticing he was gripping his chopsticks to the point where they almost splintered under the pressure. He loosened his death grip.
“I’m fine,” he muttered, idly shoving more omurice into his mouth. The unpleasant memory lingered, the screaming match between him and his mother still clear as day even after ten years. How many nights had his mother wrestled with him to eat even a bite of food? Too many to count, he supposed.
Yamaguchi carried a mostly one-sided conversation until both Akiteru and Kei finished up. Kei muttered a quick thank-you to his mother as he slid his plate into the dishwater, desperately avoiding eye contact.
“Come on Tsukki, if we don’t hurry up we’re gonna be late and Daichi's gonna yell at us~” Yamaguchi tugged on Kei’s arm, practically forcing him out the door. Kei snorted at his friend and slid on his shoes.
“Ittekimasu!” both he and Yamaguchi called as they left. His mother’s “itterashai!” was almost lost to the sound of the outdoors.
Kei shoved his headphones over his ears and scrolled through his playlist as he hopped on his bike. Luckily Yamaguchi understood his need for not talking and remained silent. Kei let out a sigh of relief as a quiet piano melody began to play, soothing the stress from the night before. His stomach had quieted down, although it still grumbled angrily. One single piece of omurice was definitely not a substitute for fifteen hours of nothing but yakizakana and half of a granola bar.
By the time he and Yamaguchi had dropped their bags in the locker room, pulled on their volleyball shoes, and made it to the court, they were already five minutes late for practice. Daichi shot them a stern look and ordered them to do an extra lap as a penalty.
“Alright!” Suga clapped his hands, his smile too bright for seven in the morning. “We’re gonna do three-on-threes! Hinata, Kageyama, Tanaka, you take the red pinnies. Tsukishima and Asahi, grab the blue pinnies. I’ll be on your team. The rest of you sit out until the next round.”
Kei gulped in a breath of air. A hunger pang shot through his stomach. He gripped the fabric of his t-shirt, glancing around to make sure nobody had noticed. No one was looking his way, except for Yamaguchi, but the black-haired boy seemed oblivious to Kei’s predicament.
Yamaguchi smiled at him, waving as he walked over to the benches. “I’ll be cheering you on, Tsukki!”
Kei smirked at his friend, just barely managing to catch a blue pinnie thrown at him. “C’mon, slowpoke!” Hinata shouted, already pulling his pinnie over his head.
Kei scowled at him, pushing aside the nausea crawling in his stomach. Asahi lined up to serve. Kei got into position, placing his hands over the back of his neck. His vision blurred when he looked up to face the other team. A couple harsh blinks cleared up his sight, but his head was beginning to pound. His eyes flickered up to the ceiling for just a second.
That was a mistake. His vision swam and his head pounded even more intensely. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to ward off the headache-
Whack!
“TSUKKI!!”
“Tsukishima!”
“Tsukishima?!”
A quiet groan reached Kei’s ears. He shifted his head to the side. His vision was hazy and darkness creeped in at the edges.
“Tsukki? No no no, Tsukki, Tsukki stay awake-”
“What happened?!”
“Is he okay?”
“Let me through. Yamaguchi don’t move him, he could have a concussion.”
Another groan cut into Kei’s ears like a knife, and it took a moment for him to realize that he was the one letting it out. A pair of hands cradled his face, tilting his head so he was looking back up at those horrible fluorescent gym lights. He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he possibly could. His arm throbbed relentlessly when he tried to move it, searing pain shooting through the limb and forcing him to keep it still.
“Tsu- st- wake- fo- me-”
Another pair of hands suddenly appeared on his torso, twisting him gently so he was laying on his back. A pang of nausea shot through his body. He whimpered again. His hand shot out behind his head and latched onto the first thing he could find- a piece of fabric, slightly damp, yet familiar.
“Ts- co- on- op- your eyes-”
One of the hands on his face reached up to card through his hair, gently stroking at the strands. Kei found himself drifting away from the pain in his head and leaning into the only non-painful sensation he could feel. His eyes relaxed and his body sagged. He was drifting further and further-
A hand pried his left eye open, and a surge of pain shot through his head. His headache increased tenfold, and his vision blurred from the intensity of it. “Shh, shh, shh, it’s alright, Daichi’s checking for a concussion, okay?”
Kei gripped the fabric harder. His vision swam. The hand stroked through his hair again.
A blurry figure hovered over him, and a light shone in his eye. Kei tried to shut his eye, but the hand refused to let him. The hand released its grip and Kei’s eye flew shut, only for the other eye to be forcefully pried open. The light shone in that one too, sending another spike of pain through his head.
“He- as- on-cus-n-” a vaguely familiar voice drifted from somewhere above him. “-all- an- mbu-ance-”
The hand stroking his hair stopped. Kei tugged on the fabric, and the ministrations resumed.
The next stretch of time passed in a blur. Kei had no comprehension whatsoever beyond the gentle hands in his hair and the soft yet firm voices floating above his head. His eyes slid open for just a moment. A figure bent over him, their forehead pressed to his, and something wet dripped onto his cheeks from above. Pain radiated from his arm and through his head, although duller than before.
Then he closed his eyes and didn’t feel much of anything.