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A while back, they had peer-pressured Kageyama into making a Twitter account. It was quite bare - his profile picture remained that of an egg, he posted about once every two months, and he liked Tweets very sparingly.
Yamaguchi was pretty sure he didn’t look at his notifications, either. (That, or he was ignoring all the pictures Hinata tagged him in.) The only person Kageyama had replied to was, well, him.
View conversation here:
Kageyama Tobio @kagetobio0920
What’s happening?
3.7K RTS · 6.2K LIKESHINATA @ninjashoyou
@kagetobio0920 yamayamakun!!!!!
1.3K RTS · 3.7K LIKEST.K. @tsukishimakei
@kagetobio0920 The king doesn’t know how to use Twitter…? lol
1.1K RTS · 2.9K LIKES^_^ @yams__
@kagetobio0920 welcome to twitter, kageyama!
1.7K RTS · 1.9K LIKESKageyama Tobio @kagetobio0920
@yams___ Thx capt
2.8K RTS · 5.5K LIKES
***
Yamaguchi’s acquaintances from university heckled him about it: Hey, how do you know the Kageyama Tobio?
To be honest, it was disconcerting how famous Kageyama got. He’d been well-known in high school volleyball circles as Karasuno’s prodigy setter. But there was that, and there was Kageyama having a personal ad on Youtube. People stopped him on the street for his signature. Mothers wanted their sons to be like him. All of it was making him reconsider his treatment of their #2.
Around this time two years ago, there had been a particularly spectacular lecture regarding their final exams. Kageyama had gotten the schedules wrong and studied for Math instead of English, his worst subject.
The final score was terrible. Yamaguchi raged in the locker room while Kageyama, locked into a seiza, stewed in his own regret. Then he caught Hinata peeking and yelled at him a bit, too.
He shuddered when the nightmarish test paper came to mind. Immediately, he felt justified.
Back to the question. Hey, how do you know the Kageyama Tobio? “We went to Karasuno together,” he said. “I was the volleyball club captain.”
This brought on a new onslaught of questions: Really? I didn’t expect that from you, Yamaguchi-san. What was he like? Was he always that good?
(Yeah, really. No, I don’t think anyone does. I don’t look like the authoritative sort, right? Haha, more stubborn than you think, but brilliant at volleyball. He was good from the get-go, and he just kept getting better.)
Why aren’t you playing volleyball anymore?
***
No questions were asked about Kageyama’s volleyball career. It wasn’t like there was anything to fuss over. He was a regular at the All-Japan Youth Camp, and sponsors had been eyeing him since his first showing at Nationals. As the date of their graduation loomed over them, Takeda-sensei grew increasingly swamped with calls from various V.League teams, all of them vying to put Kageyama’s name on their roster.
In their second year, Hinata had floated the idea of beach volleyball to their coach. They saw him off at the airport not even a full week after their graduation ceremony. Hinata cried, Yachi cried, Yamaguchi cried, and the others did their best not to look like they were associated with them. In the end, Kageyama pushed him through the gate, and they went outside to catch a glimpse of the plane taking off. Eventually, it vanished into the clouds.
Tsukki hadn’t said anything to the team about his own plans, but Yamaguchi knew, anyway. He knew how Tsukki was when he fell in love with something, and volleyball wouldn’t break his heart again. There was nothing more to be said on the matter.
On the other hand, Yamaguchi had known he wasn’t going to play volleyball professionally for a long time. It wasn’t something he’d decided on one day; it was something he accepted.
He didn’t think he could explain it to people who’d never played the sport, who had at most watched a match or two on TV. He’d been a mortal in a team of monsters. He’d worked very hard just to be able to play with them. The fact that they’d chosen him to lead them, even for a single year, was something he took pride in.
***
So, why not?
“It wasn’t for me,” he settled on, “but we all keep in touch, and I’m proud of them for getting to where they are now.”
His friend looked at him sidelong. “Huh, you sounded like you were answering an interview there,” she said, laughing, a touch wondrous. “Well, then. How was it? Playing volleyball, I mean?”
***
For a single moment, he was back in Karasuno’s second gym, practicing in the late afternoon. His muscles were sore. He wanted to sleep, but he also had to get his serve down. There was a heaping amount of homework waiting for him at home.
They’d lost and won in equal measure. He’d cried after they lost to Date Tech in their second year; he smushed his face into Tsukki’s shoulder and got tears on his jacket. We’re nothing without the third years, he thought, and felt sorry to the freshmen, who’d come to them in the hopes of joining a Nationals-worthy team.
Stop crying, Yamaguchi, Tsukki had told him, although his voice was suspiciously hoarse. We can’t do anything about it now. So they’d taken the frustration from that defeat, and succeeded in the next tournament. The following spring, Yamaguchi led them to Tokyo.
He’d remember that Interhigh forever. The bright lights, the smell of salon-pas, and how his arms hadn’t trembled, holding up their sign in a sea of people. The joy when he scored a service ace. When any of them got a point, really; Kageyama’s setter dumps, Tsukki’s blocks, and Hinata’s returns. When they won a game and Yachi leapt from the bench to join their huddle.
It was beautiful, he thought. Even when they lost, and they’d all just laid down on the floor next to each other, and people passed them by, whispering, I can’t believe Karasuno didn’t make it. Can you?
He’d missed the court already. There was a view only he got to see from the service area, when his feet met the stadium floor again: mortals and monsters alike scrambling for a hopeless ball seconds before it fell. Yamaguchi raised his fist into the air, and the team gathered around him, screaming, shrill. The weightless aftermath of a great flight.
He rolled over before he could melt into his own gym bag and found Tsukki’s arm. Hinata and Kageyama were lying around them, their limbs strewed together. Yachi knelt by them, head bowed and hair down, obscuring the rest of the world.
And then there were just the five of them, and the sweat clinging to Yamaguchi’s back in the shape of a number. Surprisingly, it wasn’t weighing him down. It couldn’t, anymore.
He couldn’t help but think: third in the nation isn’t so bad, right? We’ve made it this far. We were strong.
***
Yamaguchi smiled. He felt like he was baring a full mouth of crow’s teeth. “It was fun.”