Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For the fourth time in as many days Suna watches Hinata sprint across campus towards the gymnasium. It wouldn’t be on the outside of normal for him, Hinata was prone to exuberant outbursts of excitement—Suna had never seen someone jump to the task of cleaning the gym post practice with so much pep in their step. Though perhaps it was a bit alarming that for the fourth time in as many days Hinata was being chased by at least six members of the Inarizaki track team.

Figuring it’s really none of his business, Suna opens up his classroom window and pulls out his phone to take a video. For posterity.

“Whatcha up to?”

Hinata had just disappeared behind a low wall anyways, so Suna was free to look over his shoulder, finding Osamu watching him curiously. Suna shrugs, aiming for somewhere in the vicinity of innocence “Getting some fresh air.”

Osamu purses his lips, his eyes narrowing slightly “Why’s yer phone out?”

Suna tips his head, once again aiming for nonchalant innocence. Kinda like Hinata Shouyou, actually. “Bird watching.”

Osamu wrinkles his nose, not believing him in the slightest “Whatever. C’mon, we’re going to be late fer practice.” With that he turns to walk out of their classroom, haphazardly carrying his book bag over his shoulder. Suna trails after him, not bothering to close the window he opened. Their class rep will probably be back after brown nosing their teacher and close it himself. Probably.

They run into Gin out in the hallway.

“Where’s Atsumu?” Suna drawls, stuffing his hands in his pockets as they make their way down to the main level of the classroom building.

Gin shrugs “Already booked it to practice.”

Suna suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Ever since Hinata had joined the team Atsumu had become the weirdest mishmash of several different kinds of insufferable. For one thing he was now almost as punctual as Mr. No Gaps Kita Shinsuke, always the first one on the court. And then because Hinata was usually there helping set up, as the first years were meant to do—well Atsumu didn’t mind helping out too. Like he was a goody goody now or something. And gee whiz, wouldn’tcha know it? I see Riseki needs help with his serves, well Atsumu here will show ya how it’s done! Did Shouyou-kun happen to see? Aw shucks, it’s just ‘cause Atsumu is such a good guy, y’know?

Of course this good boy Atsumu behaviour only existed so long as Hinata was around. Hinata had been a bit late to practice last week, first years receiving their bi-annual check ups that afternoon. The team had a momentary return to the prickly asshole Suna knew and loved. Then Hinata had skipped into practice like the monstrous pixie dream alien he was and out popped good boy Atsumu once more.

It was fucking creepy is what it was.

Suna was glad he never took Osamu up on his offer to join their weirdo extra practices last year. Because he’d probably have to cancel his friendship with the Miya twins if he bore witness to both of them falling over themselves to impress one Hinata Shouyou.

After a particularly grueling practice where Atsumu had offered (OFFERED) to help Riseki take down the net in place of Hinata, Suna had tugged Osamu aside and asked that the better Miya twin give it to him straight.

“Is Atsumu in love with that gremlin?”

He may as well have slapped Osamu for how stunned he looked. Atsumu might do better in school, but Suna had always assumed Osamu was the slightly sharper of the two brothers. At least when it came to practical critical thinking skills. Maybe both of them were just dumb as rocks and Suna somehow hadn’t noticed until now?

Brows furrowed, Osamu rubbed at his chin thinking hard. Rolling his neck, heaving a sigh, shrugging his shoulders, like some uptight moral philosopher struggling with the meaning of life or something. Eventually Osamu squinted his eyes at Suna, still looking a bit perplexed “I don’t think ‘Sumu can love anything but volleyball.”

Suna flicked him in the forehead for his troubles and decided to leave well enough alone. As weird as he was, Hinata was an excellent addition to their team. Even if he’d essentially usurped Gin’s place on the starting line up as a wing spiker.

Suna made an attempt at the good friend thing only once for Gin, to see how he was holding up. Coach Kurosu had announced they’d be starting Hinata as an outside hitter for an upcoming practice match against a local college. Suna patted Gin’s shoulder, probably too firmly based on his wince “How’re you holding up?”

Gin blinked at him, before letting out a big sigh “I didn’t do too hot on our last quiz, and I promised my mom I’d try harder this term.” He put his hands on his hips and shook his head.

“No dummy, I mean-” Suna gestured across the court where Hinata was serving under Coach Oomi’s watchful eye with some of the other first years “That whole thing.”

Gin followed his gaze and scrunched his face in confusion “You mean Shou? What about him?”

“He like, kinda stole your spot, right?”

Gin actually laughed, looking kind of startled “Oh you’re serious? Yer a funny guy Suna,” Gin gave him a remarkably patronizing pat on the back “It’s not like a starting position belongs to me. You have to earn those through hard work.” He said with a shrug.

Now it was Suna’s turn to blink “And you’re fine with a first year coming out of nowhere, trained personally by some of your friends to take a spot you wanted?”

Gin gave him a funny look “Suna, man. No? I don’t mind. He’s really good, and he makes our offence better and gives us more stuff to work with and I think that’s really cool. I like when we win.” Gin said with a grin before shrugging.

“Besides, if I wanted to complain I wouldn’t be any better than that shitty setter senpai last year who hated Atsumu so much—and that’s just not a cool way to live your life, y’know? I’d rather work hard and earn my spot on the court.”

Suna regarded his friend thoughtfully. That was some surprising wisdom coming from someone Suna had always thought was a bit dim all things told. He patted Gin on the head “You’re a simple guy Gin.”

Gin reached up and patted him on the head right back “Thanks Suna. You’re such a dick.” And then they both laughed and it was cool.

Hinata had certainly proven himself in that practice game against the local college team. And it had been hilarious to watch a bunch of 190cm dudes stare down at Hinata in open confusion. The whole scrawny, 160cm — 162.8cm! Hinata would inevitably correct him hotly — wing spiker thing would throw Suna for a loop too if he had never seen Hinata play before.

Watching a bunch of grown ass adults stand with their jaws on the floor at the kid who just slammed a quick over their heads was going to go down in Suna’s list of favorite sights in the world. Especially when these particular adults had made some jokes about a middle schooler getting lost on the court, trying to get a rise out of Hinata. Which worked, because of course he was energetic AND reactive. Hinata had what some would call ‘a short fuse’. Suna called it a living, walking piece of lit dynamite filled with piss and vinegar and sparkles.

Though he’d never admit this out loud to anyone, Suna had thought it was kinda really cute the way Aran had pointed at Hinata while he was being taunted and asked “Shouyou, what’s the best revenge?” and Hinata had chirped “The next point!” with a toothy grin. Aran was without a doubt the cool senpai on the team, and next to Kita, the only one who could cool Hinata down when he was getting a little too fired up.

It was also kinda cool the way Hinata had one of the most alarming presences on the court of any player Suna had seen. Like, maybe even comparable to Ushiwaka which was weird as hell because Hinata was nowhere near as good. Just. You had to watch him. He moved so much and could attack in so many different ways, on defense you were constantly aware of where Hinata was or was planning to be. Gin was absolutely right: Hinata helped open up options on their offense like no tomorrow. Suna was scoring more. Osamu was scoring lots. Aran was scoring a fuck ton. Atsumu had probably never been happier.

Suna knew that last one for a fact. There hadn’t been a day in the last month where Atsumu hadn’t bragged about ‘how unstoppable’ their offense was, or ‘how fuckin’ cool Shouyou-kun’ is. Suna was grateful everyday that he wasn’t in the same class as Atsumu, because if he had to listen to as much drivel about ‘Shouyou-kun’ as Gin surely must hear, Inarizaki would be down a nationally ranked setter, may he rest in pieces. Thank god Osamu was quiet at least, even if he was also a Shouyou-kun otaku. Osamu had the sensibilities to be kinda closeted about it.

Halfway through their second set against the college team, their opponents had figured they’d cottoned onto the fact that Hinata was only dangerous when Atsumu was tossing. Only for Osamu to toss a pretty decent version of that quick to Hinata. Yes, Inarizaki now had two people who could use Hinata like a bludgeoning weapon. The second time he watched Hinata sail well above where a normal person should be able to jump, smacking Osamu’s toss down into a pretty decent line shot, Suna had a court side epiphany. As vaguely irritating as he was, Suna was pretty glad he played on the same team as Hinata. Needing to block Hinata and his exponential variable creation on offense would drive Suna into an early retirement.

All that’s to say, Hinata is pretty alright. And Suna will forever appreciate the kid for helping deliver the gift that was ‘head to dick hollaback girl: Miya edition’ Suna’s most popular youtube video to date. But he could really do without the whole Atsumu reshaping his whole goddamn personality for one excitable pipsqueak.

On their way to the gymnasium they ran into a cluster of track team members that Suna was pretty sure had been chasing Hinata up until a few minutes ago. They were muttering amongst themselves.

“He’s so damn quick!”

“I know! We need him!”

“We’ll get him next time senpai!”

Suna slid them a sidelong glance as they walked by, noting the red cheeks on Gin. Right, right. He recalled Gin had a crush on a member of the track team. Suna briefly contemplated shoving his friend into the tall lanky girl—he was a helper, what could he say?—but figured chances were good and he’d miss. And then Gin would be having a meet-cute with the sweaty first year with the cracking voice and no one needed that.

Osamu didn’t seem to have any outward reaction to them though... Which was strange. Normally when someone insulted, or tried to intimidate their little Shouyou-kun, Osamu and Atsumu went a bit, uh, aggro about protecting him. To his knowledge no punches had been thrown to protect the dignity and chastity of one Hinata Shouyou. Or at least no solid video proof. But Suna had seen first hand what happened when someone hurt Hinata’s feelings and Osamu and Atsumu learned about it.

Specifically, Atsumu had used some really rude metaphors to describe some members of his fanclub, who hadn’t understood that Hinata was on the volleyball team and not just ‘some fanboy’.

On second thought... Filming a knock down brawl between the twins and the track team might be kind of cool. Especially if he timed it for sunset, with the dramatic warm lighting? Damn.

“Hey Osamu,” Osamu stopped mid chew of whatever the hell he was eating now to give Suna a sleepy look “Do you know about the track team and what they’ve been doing to Hi-”

“Hey guys!” Riseki called jogging past them, brows pinched in concern. It looked like he was carrying two backpacks for some reason. “Have you seen Hinata?”

“Probably at practice already.” Osamu said around a mouthful of food. Riseki swore and nodded, lengthening his stride to make it to the practice building faster.

“That was strange.” Osamu hummed, swallowing.

“What was that about the track team?” Gin was staring at him wide eyed, a dusting of pink on his cheeks. Suna remembered now. The girl Gin liked was Hitomi-san, a second year pole vaulter. Gin had been very offended by the hilarious joke Suna had made last week about pretty girls and poles. Ah, but that wasn't the pot Suna had any interest in stirring right now.

They made it to the practice building just in time to hear Atsumu shout “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ‘em!”

Followed swiftly by Aran shouting “Osamu stop your brother!” and in spite of Osamu’s earlier sloth, nothing made Osamu happier than being given full license to smack his brother around. It happened very rarely. Only twice last year, when Atsumu had mouthed off to their old senpai and Aran had given Osamu a free pass to body check his brother into shutting his mouth.

Osamu tossed his bag to the side and took a flying leap at Atsumu, tackling him to the ground outside the gym. Atsumu swore and tried shoving his twin off, the two of them looking like a weird escher painting of similar faces and too many limbs. Suna’s hand was already on his phone, tapping in the passcode without looking.

“Get the fuck offa me right now ‘Samu! Heads deserve crackin’!” Atsumu was flailing his legs out, nearly kneeing his brother in the dick. Suna hit record, ignoring the dirty look Aran was shooting him.

“Yutou, go get Shinsuke, he should still be in his classroom.” Aran ordered, tone brooking no objections. Kosaku sprinted down the path towards the main building. Riseki and Hinata were peering out of the gym, anxiously watching the twins struggle on the ground.

“Can’t toss the ball if yer suspended for fightin’ dipshit.” Osamu grunted, driving his elbow down into Atsumu’s stomach.

“Fuckin’ track team is bullyin’ Shouyou-kun!” Atsumu all but hollered.

Osamu stilled, sitting up to squint down at Atsumu, both their chests heaving. “What’d ya say?”

“Heisuke-kun just said the track teams’ been hunting him fer sport for the last two weeks. Every fuckin’ day!” Atsumu pointed an accusing finger at Riseki who grimaced and shrunk back behind the doorway a bit.

Hinata took a step forward, flapping his hands. Suna zoomed out a bit so he could get the whole tableau. “That’s not exactly true, they just want to-”

“Let’s fuckin’ kill ‘em” Osamu growled, moving to push himself to a stand.

Aran sighed, pressing a hand to forehead “Shouyou.”

Hinata launched himself at Osamu’s side, knocking him over and effectively pinning both twins to the ground in a mess of limbs and shouting. Suna bit back a happy laugh. This was like poetic cinema. Perfect. What song could he possibly overlay such intense hilarity and beauty?

“Get off, Shouyou-kun!”

“No!”

“We only gotta beat the shit outta one, two tops. To send a message.”

“Osamu-san!” Hinata sounded like a housewife clutching her pearls. When in reality he was clutching the collar of Osamu’s blazer, and... Atsumu’s shorts? Oh please pants him, please pants him, Hinata. Please. Pants him.

“How th’fuck are ya so fuckin’ boney Shouyou-kun?”

“Just one broken nose, I promise.”

“There will be absolutely no broken noses today.” Sometimes when Kita spoke, it was like he had the wrath of god simmering in his bones. Suna abruptly found himself down a phone as Kita plucked it from his hands, ignoring the piteous sound Suna made.

Kita looked over at Aran “What is going on?”

They got the broad strokes before practice: The problem stemmed from the gym class that Hinata was in with Riseki. They had a track and field unit at the start of term and Hinata being Hinata had freakishly excelled at everything. Long jump, hurdles, short distance running, long distance running, and even pole vaulting. Word got around to the captain of the Track Club and he was determined to recruit Hinata. Had been approaching him everyday after school — cue an outburst from the twins for only just hearing about this now.

Hinata started fleeing down the hallways when he’d see the track captain, — “‘cause he was so pushy!” — leading to the captain recruiting his team to chase Hinata down, which led to Hinata dodging anywhere from three to ten track team members on his way to practice everyday for the last two weeks. Riseki had been aware of the issue and had been running interference for Hinata.

Why didn’t they say anything sooner? Well, apparently Hinata thought it was funny and kind of a challenge to see if he could outrun TRACK STARS. And he DID. Which is pretty cool, right? Suna would give the kid credit, Hinata hadn’t even blinked at the unimpressed stares from the twins or Kita and Aran.

Today had been a bridge too far for Riseki. Someone tried to grab Hinata mid-jump down the stairs, and could have seriously hurt him. Riseki resolved to tell someone. And then made the mistake of telling Aran within earshot of Atsumu.

“Hinata-kun,” Kita called softly, eyes wide even as his expression remained motionless. Hinata visibly wilted. Suna had no idea Kita was capable of scolding Hinata — the whole team was pretty sure Hinata was unilaterally the captain’s favorite. “I hope this is the last time I hear about ya jumpin’ down stairs at school, hmm?”

Hinata gave a vigorous nod and several apologetic bows. Kita almost smiled, solidifying Suna’s belief that yes, Hinata was indeed the favorite. “Good. Let’s all get ready for practice. Atsumu, Osamu, Aran, Heisuke-kun, Hinata-kun. Yer all gonna stick around after practice to discuss this further.”

“Yes Cap’n” They chimed discordantly, slouching into the gym after Kita.

Kita’s solution led to perhaps the most surreal and ridiculous interaction of Suna’s high school career. Suna would fully cop to the fact that he deliberately inserted himself into this situation, because damned if he was going to miss one of Kita’s fellow club captains receiving a lecture. Kita decided that the most prudent progression of this “misunderstanding”, as he called it, was to hold a meeting with the Track Club. And of course all the interested parties had to be there. Which meant Suna, because he was very interested in whatever the outcome of this farce was. Specifically, watching a self serious club captain get torn into in that polite way Kita had.

Aran was there, the Track Captain’s most likely future murderers: the twins, were there. And Hinata and Riseki. The Track Club brought their own entourage. There were a total of twelve people attending this stupid meeting so Kita reserved the couselling room for them all.

They were arranged in a circle on fucking zabuton, Kita cutting a sombre figure in his school uniform at the head of the room. Based on the way the track team sauntered in, they thought they were coming into a matchmaking meeting, here to haggle a bride price for Hinata’s hand in joining their club.

Fools.

This was obviously a Yakuza meeting between an Oyabun and some stupid as hell pleb infringing on his terriotry. All Kita was missing was a traditional kimono to complete the picture. Hoho! Suna was onto something here. Aran at Kita’s right made a perfect wakagashira. The twins and Suna were obviously kyodai, and then you had Hinata and Riseki playing shatei. It was perfect.

Suna realized he’d missed a large chunk of the conversation as he daydreamed about Kita in a kimono and Hinata swinging a bat around with a manic grin. He’d also been distracted by the thought that he felt deep in his heart that he could pull off a sick back tattoo. Maybe with a tiger on it or something. Foxes?

“-don’t see why there needs to be tension,” The track captain was saying, waving a hand airily “All I’m asking is for Hinata-san to consider what we can offer him.” He gave Hinata a greasy smile.

Atsumu and Osamu leaned forward, probably aiming to block Hinata from view, both of them puffing up like a pair of angry cats. Kita held up a hand (Oyabun!), making the twins lean back into their seats, matching scowls on their faces. Not for the first time Suna silently bemoaned the fact that Kita had confiscated his phone for this meeting. It was either that or he stayed outside and Suna wasn’t missing this for the world.

“Perhaps Eikichi-kun I’m misunderstanding somethin’, and ya might clarify it for me.” Kita said softly, face as placid as ever. Suna recognized that head tilt though. He felt the pavlovian need to sit up straighter and avert his eyes “How exactly was Hinata-kun meant to consider yer offer when he was bein’ chased all around campus on his way to practice?”

The track captain puffed out his cheeks, and shifted, looking ready to interject. Ignorant of the fact that one does not simply interrupt Kita Shinsuke in the middle of a scolding.

“Do ya think it helped him to consider yer offer when he was bein’ grabbed and blocked into places?” Kita’s eyes narrowed fractionally. Holy fuck! He was super pissed! Even though it wasn’t directed at him, Suna felt sweat break out on his back. “Or didja think ya’d just be able to bully him into joinin’ yer team?”

It was kind of a unique experience for Suna, Atsumu, and Osamu to witness someone else be on the receiving end of one of Kita’s lectures. Suna loved it, watching the person squirm. Maybe he ought to work harder just so he received them less and he had more time to watch Kita politely rip other people a new one?

...Nah.

The track captain spluttered, before sucking in an angry breath, his teammates shifting uncomfortably next to him. “Yeah well, I’m just looking out for Hinata-san’s potential! Which you lot are squandering!”

Now Aran looked offended, leaning forward a bit “What exactly do you mean ‘squandering’?” Suna had never heard him sound so icy.

The track captain gestured at Hinata emphatically with his hand “I can’t believe you’re keeping such a capable, natural athlete to yourselves, when you’re not even going to be playing him!”

The volleyball players in the room blinked. Kita recovered first “What do ya mean Eikichi-kun?”

“You can’t lie to me, I know he’s not a Libero! And I know what a libero is! The shortest player on the team.” He was looking awfully smug for being such an unmitigated dumbass “Hinata-san told me himself, he’s a wing spiker.”

Hinata held up a hand, waiting for Kita to gesture at him to speak before he interjected—like the little goody goody he was, yuck.

“Uhh, I play.” The track captain scoffed, which pressed whatever button in Hinata’s brain that made him instantly whip crack mad “I’m a starter.” He growled through gritted teeth. Next to him Atsumu gave a smug nod. Osamu was still glaring silently. Riseki just fidgeted, sending worried glances between Hinata and the rest of the room.

The track captain gave them all a disbelieving once over before, his confidence slowly waning as he realized Hinata was telling the truth. His mouth gaped fish like for a moment “You? Are a starter?”

Hinata bristled at the implication in his tone, but Atsumu patted Hinata’s shoulder “Shouyou-kun is my- our wing spiker, and he’s real good. No point in him wasting his talents,” Here, Atsumu gave the track captain his best condescending once over, the kind his face was made for “On anything beneath him.” Osamu snorted on his other side, giving a hearty nod.

“I suppose the only question left to ask is: Hinata-kun, would you rather stay on the volleyball team, or join the track club?” Kita asked serenely, really demonstrating how mad he was by not telling Atsumu off for being rude.

Hinata stared blankly at Kita, as if he’d just asked the most obvious question in the world “Volleyball. Always volleyball,” And because Hinata is a fundamentally nice person he turned to the track captain, giving him a friendly smile “Volleyball let’s me fly and be a part of a team and I have friends on the team and there’s no better feeling in the world than spiking a ball.”

That seemed to deflate the track captain, realizing he wasn’t going to get his way. But Hinata wasn’t finished.

Shocking the ever living hell out of Suna, Hinata’s smile became just a bit toothy as he continued “Besides, I like to actually win.” The track team was ranked second last in the whole prefecture. All pretenses of civility were off because Atsumu and Osamu were hooting and cackling now. Even Aran turned his head away to cover his own laugh.

Defeated, the track club left the counseling office. The rest of them had a small impromptu victory celebration, Hinata gushing enthusiastically about how cool Kita had been. Suna interrupted them all to point a finger in Hinata’s face, his eyes still wide with surprise.

“Are you actually kind of a dick?”

Behind Hinata, Atsumu and Osamu paused to glare at Suna, but Hinata just gave him a big cheeky grin “I dunno Suna-senpai. It’s too bad you don’t have your phone on you so you’d have proof.” And then he stuck out his tongue, gave a wink, looking absolutely ridiculous as he fist bumped a laughing Osamu.

Fuck, maybe Suna was a little bit of a Shouyou-kun otaku too?

“But I don’t WANT to be called the greatest decoy.” Hinata bit out, face screwed up in a petulant frown.

Gin looked up from where he was readjusting his laces, taking a quick break at the tail end of practice while Hinata and Atsumu did some spiking drills. Gin had thought it was a bit weird when Kita had announced at the start of term that he’d allow an extra hour of court time after Saturday training sessions, but Gin wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Staying on the court a bit longer was always fun when he was surrounded by his buds.

He uh, just hadn’t ever heard Hinata use that tone of voice before. The kid sounded plenty mad.

Standing a few feet away, ball palmed in his hand, Atsumu scoffed “Why the heck not? It’s a cool as hell nickname.” Hinata made a derisive sound in the back of his throat.

Most of the rest of the team had left after their training session, so it was just them, along with Osamu and Suna — not that he was participating, only watching — who stuck around for extra practice. Up until now, Gin had only ever known Hinata to be a vibrant and excitable volleyball nerd, always eager to do anything that meant he got to be on the court for a bit longer. He was the only first year Gin had ever met who didn’t complain about having to clean post practice — even stinky pinnie washing didn’t seem to bother him.

Hinata took directions well, especially if it meant he got his way and earned some extra spiking practice. Gin had maybe quietly suspected that was the reason Atsumu liked him so much, that Hinata would do anything for just ‘one more toss’. Until he watched Hinata call Atsumu the fuck out in front of the whole team for being rude to Omimi-senpai a few weeks ago. Had it been anyone else, Atsumu would have redirected his anger onto the person who’d embarrassed him. Instead, Atsumu had just sulkily huffed and loudly declared he had to go cool off, slinking off into the locker room, to rejoin practice after a tiny break.

At the time, Gin had looked at Osamu in profound confusion “What just happened?”

Osamu was wearing an uncharacteristic toothy smirk, eyes twinkling with malicious glee “Oh y’know, ‘Sumu just gettin’ put in his place.”

Yes, that much was obvious. Gin, and most of the rest of the team were just confused as to how a pipsqueak first year was allowed to talk to Atsumu like that, and not get decked for his trouble. Kosaku had tried his hand at some trash talk just last week, making a snide comment during a scrimmage as Atsumu was serving. The next rally saw Atsumu purposefully smacking a dirty spike right into Kosaku’s face as he was going in for a block.

Just because Hinata was allowed to tease Atsumu, didn’t mean the rest of them could do the same.

Normally, Hinata and Atsumu, with the usual addition of Osamu, all got on like housefires. Gin had experienced a full year of ingratiating himself to the twins, slowly cracking their prickly exterior to develop friendships with them. Summer training camp last year had been especially helpful in that regard. Even knowing that the twins helped run secret training for Hinata last year, still hadn’t really prepared Gin for the depth of friendship between the three of them. Where before it had been Atsumu and Osamu, then the rest of the team, it was now evidently Atsumu and Osamu and Hinata, then the rest of them.

They might tease each other, and Hinata might be the only person outside of Kita who could successfully scold the twins, but Gin couldn’t remember a time in the last two months where he’d ever seen Hinata and Atsumu actually fight. This argument about Hinata and his decoy-ability had been a recurring thread of tension for Hinata and the team for the last week as they got ready for the Inter-High qualifiers.

It was today, probably because everyone was a bit hungry post training, that the argument finally boiled over.

Hinata tipped his chin up defiantly, glaring at Atsumu “Because I want to score, not make it so other people can score!”

Atsumu clicked his tongue, which just made Hinata puff up further “Don’t be stupid Shouyou-kun.”

“Don’t be such a jerk Atsumu-san! You’re not listening to me!”

Welp. This was certainly something. Gin looked over at Osamu to see if he had any idea about how to handle this, only to find he had his elbow draped over his eyes, maybe asleep. Suna meanwhile was scooting towards his jacket probably intending to get his phone out to film the exchange. Atsumu and Hinata’s voices were getting louder. Oh god, Kita was going to come back into the gym to silently and calmly murder them all for disrupting the tranquility of his gymnaisum.

“Why don’t you care about what I want!?” Hinata snarled, stepping closer into Atsumu’s space.

Atsumu rolled his eyes, making eye contact with Gin over Hinata’s head as if to say ‘this guy, can ya believe it’. Gin just grimaced and tried to shake his head to indicate that Atsumu should probably stop.

“Yer on a team now, why dontcha act like it?” Atsumu’s voice was pure condescension.

The way Hinata briefly stilled, Gin imagined he was seconds away from launching himself upwards to rip Atsumu’s throat out. Hinata sometimes looked like a half feral thing on the court. Gin had long suspected that Hinata might be, just a little, unhinged. He still liked the kid, he was nice. It’s just, who the hell biked over a mountain everyday to get to school?

Atsumu, with the confidence of someone who thought himself immortal, reached a hand up to pat Hinata on the head “Ya got lots to learn Shouyou-kun. Y’know this is the reason coach put ya on the court over Gin.” Across the net Gin flinched. And Atsumu had been getting so much better about not being excessively blunt when it came to these sorts of things too.

“What?” Hinata’s face had gone absolutely blank, even his ragged enraged breathing seemingly stilled. Never had a more dangerous question been uttered. Gin didn’t know how to help this situation. He was confident that if he tried to insert himself Hinata would bite his hand off. Literally.

Osamu was sitting up, face in a full grimace “Sumu!” pulling himself to his feet. Suna was beside him, phone out, gleefully recording what was likely going to end in bloodshed.

“Yeah, it’s not like coach would play ya if ya weren’t makin’ opportunities for everyone else to score.” Atsumu shrugged airily, somehow completely oblivious to the murderous intent in front of him. “But hey, greatest decoy is still pretty cool. Yer just lucky ya got me here to really use those decoy skills.”

It was kinda like watching a cat bunch up its muscles before pouncing, the way Hinata seemed to tense. His clenched hands opening into tense claws at his side, shoulders back, powerful thigh muscles gathering — Gin has a moment to wonder if the really pretty nurse was still working at the school med clinic, because if she was he’d gladly escort Atsumu there after Hinata beats the crap out of him. Atsumu might be bigger, but Hinata is a heckuva lot more enraged and tenacious-

“Hinata-kun.”

Were it not for Kita’s perfectly timed intervention, Gin is absolutely certain Hinata would have used tooth and claw to rip Atsumu’s face off. Instead that tight bowstring of enraged tension, briefly loosens enough for Hinata to snap his head in Kita’s direction. It’s a testament to how angry he must be that his hands and shoulders don’t immediately unclench when Kita is usually a cooling balm for every other overreaction Hinata has.

“Get changed and go home. You have a long bike ride ahead of you.” Kita says kindly, eyes not leaving Hinata until he disappears into the locker room. Then his gaze snaps back to the rest of them. As one the group of them flinch, even Suna. “The rest of you, please clean up the gym.”

Atsumu’s expression is mutinous, but he tosses his palmed ball into the cart and turns to take down the net, the rest of them shuffling around to help too. Gin might normally protest that it’s not like HE did anything wrong, but Kita seemed to be in the mood to make anyone who disagreed into a ballboy for the next month.

When they were done Kita called Atsumu over to have a talk. Gin couldn’t make out exactly what was being said, outside of “Tact” and “Empathy” and “Moderating yer tone”, while Atsumu openly pouted at their captain. Gin allowed himself to be ushered into the locker room to get changed — it’d be fine, Atsumu and Hinata would cool off, and by Monday it would be back to the Hinata and Atsumu comedy lunch hour. Which Gin enjoyed greatly, partly because the jokes were embarrassingly lame, and partly because Hinata always brought the best egg based dishes in his bento to share.

By the following Friday, things had not gone back to normal and Gin was starting to resent Atsumu just a bit for his and Hinata’s fight. Or Hinata’s “stupid as fuck stubborness” as Atsumu liked to call it. Hinata had not joined them for lunch all week, and Gin hadn’t realized just how much he needed a little oyakodon or chawanmushi from Hinata to get him through the week. Instead Hinata had been eating with his first year friends — and notably once eating outside with junior members of the track and field club, giving Atsumu an antagonistic smirk as he doled out treats to club members who had only a month ago tried to steal Hinata away from the volleyball team.

Practices were beginning to get a bit annoying too. It had been awesome how excitable Atsumu was at practice, almost eager to please just so they could get to spiking practice faster, trying out funky and fast plays with Hinata, more patient with everyone else. But since their fight started, Hinata had requested to work with Shimeji-kun, their first year backup setter and the rest of the bench and reserve players for the week. Atsumu had been near apoplectic, reverting into his old, too blunt feedback as the week wore on. Apparently a year of Atsumu slowly getting nicer on the court had worn away Gin’s emotional callouses, because the malcontent sigh Atsumu gave him after what he thought was a pretty decent spike had really freaking stung.

And then there were the team runs. Normally, these were pretty intense affairs, with Kita being particularly sharp eyed for people cutting corners. Last year the twins had typically run off on their own, racing each other over who was fastest. And then Hinata joined the team, making the whole problem worse. Hinata was faster than them, knew it, and lived to flaunt it. It was only by Aran’s quick thinking that had the three of them controlled at all: They now all competed to see who could run at pace with Aran the longest.

It had been its own brand of endearing to watch Hinata smugly boast about keeping pace with Aran better than Osamu, dodging playful swipes from both twins.

Only now Hinata didn’t care to run at pace with Atsumu, so he ran ahead. This pissed Atsumu off, so he’d run off to go catch him, which would trigger Osamu’s innate competitiveness, also running off. And then to everyone’s shock, Aran ran after them — trying to get them all to stop. The worst had been on Wednesday when Hinata had sprinted ahead, the other three trailing him. Despite running well ahead of the group, they had taken 45 minutes to arrive back at school after the rest of the team. Hinata had apparently been a little caught up in the euphoria of out running everyone chasing him. Kita had given all of them a scolding for that one.

“Can you please go apologize?” Gin asked as they were walking out of Friday practice. He hadn’t had a taste for eggs since last week. Damn that Hinata, introducing him to good quality eggs — now Gin knew the difference! Store bought eggs just couldn’t compare.

Next to him Atsumu stiffened, scowling at him “Apologize for what?”

Osamu sighed, quickening his pace to exit the conversation.

“Hinata is sensitive. Ya gotta be nicer, man.” Gin explained, trying to be tactful. Based on the grimace Kosaku was wearing, he probably didn’t do a very good job of it.

It’s almost shocking how Atsumu didn’t choke on the force of his derisive snort. They were nearing the bike racks where Hinata was perched on his bike, laughing at something Akagi just said. Hinata’s back was to them, but Akagi could see them coming from a mile away. Gin didn’t like the slant of his smirk.

“Y’know what I always say Shou?” Akagi asked loudly, flicking an amused look at Atsumu, oh no. “Nicknames-schmicknames. Who cares what people call ya on the court? So long as ya stay winning?”

Gin briefly considered grabbing Atsumu’s shoulders and shoving him forward — the last thing they needed was Atsumu and Hinata getting into a shouting match in front of school. The volleyball team was already banned from the konbini across the street for being disruptive. When they wanted meat buns after practice they always had to go a few extra blocks. Thankfully Atsumu didn’t change pace, merely hunched his shoulders, giving Akagi a sour look.

Gin just mouthed ‘Really Akagi?’ at his senpai, only succeeding in making Akagi’s grin more toothy.

“I don’t know Akagi-senpai, I kinda always wanted to be called the Little Giant.” Hinata said in response, tipping his head up to look at the early evening sky. “It’s the reason I started playing volleyball after all.” Atsumu’s shoulders hunched further as he quickened his pace, rounding the corner at a solid speedwalk. Hinata, thankfully didn’t seem them. Gin made sure to give Akagi the one finger salute, just so he’d know what a bad senpai he was being.

Akagi huffed a laugh through whatever response he was giving Hinata.

They walked in silence for a solid minute after they rounded out the gate, Osamu nowhere to be seen, and Kosaku peeling off with a wave down the street that would take him home. Gin was just starting to wonder if he should say something when Atsumu scoffed out loud, scuffing his shoe on a rock. He somehow gave the impression that he was stuffing his hands into his pockets even more viciously than before.

“You okay man?” Gin asked tepidly, ready to bolt away if this was going to be explosive anger Atsumu.

Atsumu stopped walking, whipping around to look at Gin, throwing his hands into the air, throttling some imagined presence between them — probably Hinata. “I’m not being a dickhead this time!” Atsumu finally burst out harshly.

Gin blinked “Uh...”

Atsumu misread Gin’s expression as derision “I’m not!” He cut his hands through the air “Fine, maybe I could have been nicer about it. But! He’s on a team now, it doesn’t fuckin’ matter how much he scores if no one else is.”

Gin nodded “Yeah, that sounds right to me.” he hedged.

“Thank you!” Some of the tension Atsumu was holding melted from his posture, his expression still mulish, but not looking like he was expecting someone to come and deck him anymore “‘Samu hasn’t said shit and I couldn’t tell if he was being ‘mature’,” Atsumu said this with no small amount of scorn “Or if he agreed with me and didn’t want to say it, otherwise Shouyou-kun’d be pissed at him too.”

Gin tilted his head, thinking back to that initial argument on the court. Osamu hadn’t tried to insert himself until Atsumu got kinda condescending “Probably the second thing.”

“Yeah! Fuckin’ coward, not wanting to piss off Shouyou-kun. How else is he gonna learn?”

“Well...”

“Gin.” Atsumu was giving him a very unimpressed look. One that said ‘be on my side, bro’ and Gin was on HIS SIDE. But he was also on his team’s side. And Gin hadn’t been so accepting of a first year taking the wing spiker position he’d hoped he’d earn this year, only for Atsumu to pick fights under the guise of teaching lessons.

“Have you thought about it from Hinata’s perspective?” Gin asked, shifting his weight.

“No, why?”

Gin did an admirable job not snorting. Of course Atsumu hadn’t paused long enough to be empathetic, instead focusing on his own hurt feelings and annoyance. “Well, you just heard him. His dream is to be one of those little giants, right?”

“Yeah, and?”

“Well, ya kinda made it sound like him being a decoy was a you thing, and not a him thing, right?” Gin pointed out, rubbing at his chin. He might be onto something here.

“So?” Atsumu’s brows were bunched on his forehead like he genuinely didn’t understand “A good decoy is only useful if ya have a good setter.”

Gin squinted at his friend, feeling his nose wrinkle a little “Atsumu, bro.” Atsumu clicked his tongue at him “Little giants stand on their own two feet, right? So maybe don’t frame the things he’s good at as only happening ‘cause you’re around?”

Atsumu was looking at him skeptically, sucking on his teeth as he mulled that over. “Well, he’d be a lot worse if he’d never met me.” Atsumu finally concluded.

Gin slapped his own forehead, blowing a heavy sigh out of his mouth “Man, that doesn’t give you a right to be shitty to the dude.”

Atsumu looked genuinely affronted “I wasn’t being shitty!”

“Ya said the only reason he was on the starting line up over me was ‘cause he pulls attention so well.”

Atsumu had the grace to look a little sheepish “Ah. Yeah. Sorry.” And then he stuck out his lower lip, looking off to the side “Though, it’s also kinda true.”

“Maybe instead of framing it like an asshole you could say something like ‘Hinata, ya got this amazing ability to draw blockers attention, ‘cause you’re so good at scoring! Let’s win games using your ability to draw attention’, or something.” Gin nodded his head sagely.

Atsumu pursed his lips “That’s basically what I said.”

“Yeah, only way nicer.” Atsumu rolled his eyes at him, but Gin was pretty sure he got his point across. By the next morning Atsumu and Hinata were back to being friends, though it was unclear if either of them had bothered apologizing to the other. But hey! If Gin was going to get tamagoyaki again next week at lunch, then he considered it a job well done.

Too bad Atsumu ended up catching a cold later that same day though. Gin had thought him pretty hardcore, trying to power through it for practice, but Kita had put a quick stop to it, sending the poor guy home. By the time Hinata made it into practice, Atsumu had already gone home with his Kita prepared care package.

“Where’s Atsumu-san?” Hinata asked him, looking around the gym.

“Got sick, Kita-senpai sent him home. Said he wasn’t allowed to practice.” Gin said with a shrug.

“But I didn’t get to hit any of his tosses all week~” Hinata whined, his shoulders slumping. That would be what he was worried about.

Gin decided to be a nice senpai and not point out that only happened because of his own stubbornness. “He wanted to stay, to power through it, but Kita-senpai wouldn’t let him.”

Hinata heaved a big dramatic sigh, stretching his arms over his head “Ugh, that’s so lame. If he wanted to stay he should’ve been allowed to. If he said he felt fine I bet he was.”

Gin only shrugged “Eh, captain’s orders. C’mon, let’s see if the others wanna play some three on three or something, yeah?” Hinata gave him one of his big beaming grins, bobbing his head in a nod as he skipped onto the court, calling dibs on Osamu before anyone could say anything.

Yup, back to housefires. Nice.

Ito Fumiko had chosen Inarizaki high school for the chance to play in the best brass band in all of the Kansai region. Numerous alumni had gone on to pursue professional careers in music, from recurring shows at jazz clubs, and record deals, to spots at the Tokyo philharmonic. As a lifelong trumpet player, Fumiko had aspirations of joining a professional orchestra after she graduated from high school, to travel the world practicing her music.

Only she hadn’t realized that in spite of being one of the best brass bands in the entire country, Inarizaki’s music program strived to play at one venue in particular: Inarizaki Men’s Volleyball matches.

Fumiko had been a little disappointed to say the least. Outside of competitions, the stage for most of her performances in high school was going to be in the stands of a volleyball court.

The brass band regularly practiced all kinds of showy and short tunes to play between sets. They practiced rhythm acceleration to throw the other team off. They practiced what couldn’t even be called music, just the blaring of various instruments in the band's version of a boo. Most disturbing of all, they practiced synchronous cut offs to the most obnoxious move she has ever witnessed.

Fumiko had the privilege early on in her first term to watch “game tape” — what orchestra had ever needed GAME TAPE?? — so she and the other first years could get a sense of what expectations were like during games. She bore witness to some bleached out asshole lifting an arm, like a courtside conductor, to cut off all sounds so he could punt a ball over the stupid net in horrific silence.

Fumiko had never felt so insulted in her life. Who was this volleyball player to cut off Radetsky’s March whenever he felt like it?

“Oh but it’s our signature move Fumiko-chan!”

“It’s part of our intimidation tactic!”

“But it’s for Miya Atsumu! And he’s pretty dreamy isn’t he?”

Once Fumiko learned his name, as if her brain had learned some secret Inarizaki codeword, she began hearing all about Miya Atsumu around school. He was a setter, whatever the hell that was. He was 183cm tall. Who cared, she was 180cm and you never heard her bragging. He had a twin brother and they were both hot hot hot! He was also kind of mysterious, always having a dark and stormy expression on his face, like he was deep in thought or something.

Fumiko felt deep in her heart that if Miya Atsumu were a girl, people would just say he had resting bitch face.

She resigned herself to three years of catering to the whims of a stupid sports team. At least she’d have ample time to practice her trumpet. She resolved that even if she had to suffer the indignity of being cut off at the crescendo of a hundred year old piece of music, she would do her utmost to avoid anyone on the volleyball team, especially Miya Atsumu, lest she act on the urge to bludgeon them with her trumpet case.

There was one small (SMALL) pickle in that plan.

“Oi, Shouyou-kun, come get lunch with me.” Miya Atsumu was leaning into Classroom 1-2, his hands bracketing the doorway, a lazy grin on his face.

The boy sitting in front of Fumiko lifted his head and pouted at the asshole blocking the entrance to their classroom, while every girl and some of the boys still seated at their desks quietly started swooning — as they always did when Atsumu came to pick Hinata up for lunch. Which was nearly everyday for the last month.

“Atsumu-san I need to finish my math homework.” Hinata all but whined, his nose scrunching up.

Atsumu did a push up on the doorway like some sort of insufferable jock, a teasing grin on his face “Come have lunch with me or I’ll tell Kita ya didn’t do yer homework last night.”

Fumiko glared down at her desk, clutching her pencil tightly, unable to focus on her own math homework. Math homework that she needed to finish so she could go practice on the rooftop after her club meeting. She could hear a number of girls tittering at Atsumu’s macho display. Disgusting. She wished Hinata would just go.

“Aran-san says you’re not supposed to use emotional terrorism on me.” Hinata said flatly, resolutely turning back to his homework.

“No one likes a tattle-tale Shouyou-kun.” Atsumu tutted, before he clicked his tongue “I’ll buy ya melon pan if ya come~”

In front of her Hinata stilled, surreptitiously turning his head to look at Atsumu “Two melon pan.”

If anything, Atsumu’s grin just became even more obnoxious “Melon pan and a chocolate milk.”

Hinata shifted in his chair, turning to face Atsumu in full. Fumiko could see the smirk on his face in profile. Insufferable.

“Yakisoba pan and-”

“Oh my god just go!” Fumiko burst out, tired of their ill-concealed flirting. Hinata threw her an alarmed look and she felt her cheeks go hot. She hadn’t meant to be so sharp and mean. She tipped her head forward so her hair was blocking her face. After a moment of stunned silence she eventually mumbled “I’m trying to do my homework.”

Hinata's face lit up bright red and he popped up to bow at her “I’m sorry Ito-san!” And then he raced to the door. She watched him go out of the corner of her eye, frowning at herself. Hinata was generally nice, he didn’t deserve to be treated that way — he ought not of apologized to her, she was in the wrong. Even if he had been annoying. Or rather, had attracted his annoying friend to their classroom.

She managed to catch Atsumu saying “Just no luck at all with the ladies, hmm—” before they were too far away down the hallway to hear more. Her classmates were whispering about her outburst. She didn’t care. She couldn’t help it, everyone on the volleyball team was so annoying. Strutting around school like they owned the place. Many of the members had actual, honest to goodness fan clubs. She couldn’t fathom the egos on these people.

Next time she saw Hinata she would apologize for the outburst. She could have been more polite. Even if he was friends with that god awful Miya Atsumu for some reason.

Fumiko hadn’t even realized Hinata was on the volleyball team for the first two weeks of term, until Atsumu or that other Miya twin took it upon themselves to come to collect him if he dallied too long at lunch time.

There had been that moment on their first day of term where everyone was expected to introduce themselves, and learn a bit about their classmates. Everyone but her and Hinata had come to Inarizaki with middle school friends. Apparently like her, Hinata commuted everyday to come to school. It certainly raised her esteem for him, that he travelled far to play high level volleyball, like she did for music. Even if volleyball was stupid.

Fumiko respected him more, but that didn’t mean she had time to be his friend. Or interest. Even if he was nice and kind of endearing in a weird way. Perhaps she felt this way because shortly after introducing himself and learning her name, Hinata had bit his lip and his eyes had glittered like he desperately wanted to say something.

“What?” She asked, adjusting her glasses.

“Your name!” He burst out, before clamping his hands over his mouth, his cheeks flushing.

She arched a brow. She was well aware her name was old fashioned, thanks. It was a family name, what business was it of his?

Hinata dug into his pocket to pull out his phone and navigated to a picture. He handed her his phone so she could see the picture of... chickens? Was this what boys were into now? How peculiar.

Hinata pointed at a fluffy brown chicken with white spots “This one is named Fumiko, too!”

Fumiko blinked, pulling the phone closer to her face to scrutinize it. “Why’d you name a chicken after me?” Perhaps a stupid question, they’d only met each other that morning.

Hinata laughed “My sister named her, like a year ago now,” He held out his hand for his phone, which Fumiko handed back. “I think the brown is kinda the same as your hair.”

Fumiko blinked, patting a hand to her fluffy hair, feeling her cheeks heat. She scowled “Are you saying I look like a chicken?”

Hinata flapped his hands in front of him “No, no! Just that it’s kind of cool. Like a coin-coin-coning...?” His eyebrows pinched as he tried to think of the word.

“Coincidence?”

He snapped his fingers and gave her a bright grin. “Yeah! A coincidence. It’s nice to meet you human-Fumiko”

She narrowed his eyes “Please start to refer to your pet as chicken-Fumiko, and me as normal Fumiko”

Hinata grinned “Okay normal-Fumiko” She scoffed at him, smiling despite herself. Hinata was kinda weird, but he was also kinda nice to talk to. When he wasn’t surrounded by his awful volleyball friends.

It was the week after she’d yelled at Hinata at lunch that they ran into each other on the roof of the practice building. Hinata had been sure to get the heck out of dodge at lunchtime to prevent any Atsumu incursions into their classroom, rightly guessing that perhaps it was his presence that had upset her so. Not that she’d told anyone that she resented Atsumu for his gross conduction from the volleyball court. As if she, Ito Fumiko, trumpeter for 10 years, played for him alone. Hinata still greeted her every morning, and tossed a seeya at her as he sprinted out the classroom to get to his practice, which was normal behaviour, so there were likely no hard feelings between them.

Fumiko had tried to find a spot where she could get away from the rest of the band. Apparently some big volleyball tournament was coming up next week and they were expected to perform at all the boys’ games at Kobe Municipal Chuo Gymnasium. Fumiko had felt the need to flee their practice room because the band was coordinating with the player fanclubs and if she had to hear one more girl simper about impressing Atsumu-senpai by knowing all the songs~ She was going to break all her own fingers so she couldn’t play.

So rooftop. She was in the middle of a particularly challenging jazzy Cat Anderson piece when she opened her eyes to find Hinata staring up at her from a seiza on the ground. She almost dropped her trumpet, shrieking into the mouthpiece in her surprise.

“Ito-san! That was amazing!” Hinata gushed at her, as she caught her breath with a hand to her chest.

“Don’t sneak up on people!” She snapped, pulling a cloth from her pocket to wipe at her mouth piece.

Hinata had the decency to look sheepish “Ah, sorry about that. I wanted to take a bit of a break, and next thing I knew I heard some awesome music and I wanted to hear better so...” He trailed off and shrugged. So he came to find out who was playing.

She pressed one of her valves, feeling the need to fidget. She flicked a glance at Hinata, waiting for him to give up the ghost and just leave. He’d done it. He found her. He knew who was practicing non-brass band approved tunes on the roof. He could leave now.

“You know, I knew you played an instrument, but it’s kind of cool to see it in person. It’s so shiny and cool and it sounds awesome,” Hinata’s eyes are shining at her. She hefted the trumpet a bit higher, suppressing a pleased smirk. “Though it’s funny. I kinda imagined you had a weapon hidden away in that thing.” He said with a laugh, pointing at her trumpet case.

Fumiko looked down at the trumpet case laying closed on the ground, before her gaze sharpened on Hinata “Like Gunslinger Girl.”

Hinata snapped his fingers and grinned “Yeah! Exactly that!”

She huffed a laugh, occupying her hands by once again wiping down the mouthpiece. “Shouldn’t you be having a meeting with your fanclub so they can coordinate outfits when you play next week or something?” Perhaps she sounded a little sour when she said it.

Silence met her, causing Fumiko to lift her head to look at Hinata curiously. He had flopped down onto his butt, legs out akimbo, staring at the toes of his shoes. “I don’t have a fan club.”

That was as bland as she’d ever hear Hinata, perhaps resigned? She tilted her head “I thought everyone on the volleyball team had a big personal fan club.” There were girls at their school who had honest to goodness t-shirts that said ‘Miya means love’ covered in sparkles. Fumiko had never vomited in her own mouth before, but upon seeing those monstrosities, it had been a near thing.

He shrugged pursing his lips, averting his gaze “Not me, I’m just a first year. It’s not like people believe I’m on the team anyways.”

She blinked “Really?” He flicked a glance at her through his eye lashes before he just shrugged again. She couldn’t really judge, she’d thought much the same when she first met him. Had been surprised to learn he played a sport — volleyball of all things. She figured you had to be tall to play.

“But you’re always hanging out with that—” She realizes that maybe she shouldn’t use the word asshole to describe someone Hinata is obviously friends with “Miya...-san.”

“Don’t you know Ito-san? I’m the Inarizaki mascot.” Fumiko had no idea Hinata had the capacity to fake smile. Teeth all bared and his face crinkling, with no light or good humour behind the eyes. It looked resoundingly bitter.

For all of her life Fumiko has been known as a quiet girl. Which she’d always thought was kind of stupid. She wasn’t quiet or mousy and small. She was tall and all boney elbows that stuck out too much, and fluffy hair that she struggled to keep tamed and she had a loud laugh. Most people just didn’t know it because she didn’t find a lot of things funny. And she usually liked to think carefully before she spoke, lest she put her foot in her mouth, and people were impatient, pressing forward in a conversation, leaving her behind. Or more often than not she was mulling over some music in her head, ignoring the world around her.

She did think it was hilarious that her aunts and uncles called her a good quiet girl, when the thing she loved most was playing loud music that trumpeted across campus that could apparently drag the happiest go luckiest boy she’d ever met to listen to her concert of one.

She’d been labeled a quiet girl, and figured leaning into that identity would make life less troublesome. Make it easier to not have distractions from her practice. To keep daydreaming about music. But that didn’t mean she didn’t watch and observe the world around her. She picked up on things like who had crushes on who. Who was failing a class and who was hiding their success?

Who did her fun and a little bit goofy and a little more annoying classmate spend all his time with? Only the volleyball team. No one else. And mainly the most notorious volleyball players at this school with their hideously large fan clubs.

Fumiko wondered if Hinata had trouble talking about his problems with friends who might not be able to empathize with him. How would two people who’ve been profiled by some stupid sports magazine — A fact she only knows because the trophy case near the school entrance has the article framed. Disgusting. Friends who were tall, their positions secured, how could they understand the feelings of someone small enough to be referred to as a mascot? The feelings of someone who people didn’t think belonged on the team at all.

Who did Hinata have to talk to about any feelings of inadequacy? Or the frustrations that went hand in hand with it? Was he just expected to roll with punches and be benignly cheerful for the people around him? Perhaps Hinata had been labeled a lighthearted airhead and decided it was less troublesome to lean into that identity, instead of letting his real feelings show.

Even as her brain screamed at her absolutely to not play therapist for this boy, to find another spot to practice, Fumiko sat down, pulling her case into her lap to put her trumpet away. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Hinata stared at her with wide eyes for a moment, before his shoulders relaxed and he curled forward a bit, fiddling with his tie as he told her all about the stupid stuff he’d been putting up with since coming here. Little hurts and frustrations. Annoying things that had happened on the team. The way he was treated — special by some, a nuisance and inconvenience by others. Feeling like he has no right to complain because he had everything he wanted.

Fumiko made an especially disgusted noise when he described how he’d been accosted by the Miya fan clubs for deigning to eat lunch with his friends regularly.

An hour later they were laying back on the concrete of the roof, staring up at the sky. “You actually bike over a mountain to get here?” She asked incredulously. She knew he commuted, just not how far.

“I don’t have anything on you! Getting a ride from your mom, taking a bus and then a train to get here sounds stressful! What if you miss one of them?” Hinata said, clutching his cheeks with his hands.

“Missing the bus is the sucky part, it only runs every hour.” She grumbled. She started eating breakfast at the bus station, finding that easier than maybe being late to first period. Though getting to school either 30 minutes early or 30 minutes late really sucked. She needed to get her moped license next year.

“Well, it’s really cool that you travel so far to chase your dream Ito-san.” Hinata smiled a wide genuine grin.

She huffed “You too Hinata.”

They sat in silence for a moment, watching the big fluffy clouds skirt by in the sky. It was nice. She may have practiced less than she wanted to today, but she’d also made a pretty cool friend. Which was pretty okay.

“I’m really excited to hear you all play at the tournament next week!” Hinata said brightly, sitting up to look down at her. She must have let her true emotions show because Hinata was looking at her curiously “You’re not excited?”

Fumiko breathed a heavy breath out of her nose, rolling forward into a sit, drumming her fingers on her trumpet case. Well, she’d listened to him, so fair was fair, right? “I think it’s really dumb that one of the best high school brass bands in all of Japan plays for the whims of a stupid sport ball game.” Ooooh, that was too harsh. He played the stupid sport ball Fumi!

Hinata just cracked a grin at her “Do you guys come to all the games?”

“Yes! Even nationals if you make it-”

“We’ll make it.”

Fumiko squints at him, adjusting her glasses. “Big talk Hinata. Anyways, it’s so stupid because we’re not even playing actual music, just-” She wiggles her fingers in front of her to try and convey her frustration “We’re glorified loud cheer leaders!” She whirls on him “Did you know I had to learn a discordant, arrhythmic blatting sound so I can boo at your opponents?”

She was picking up too much steam “Don’t even get me started on those stupid cut off motions that asshole Miya does when he’s punting the ball over the net!”

“You mean Atsumu-san?”

Fumiko freezes, grimacing down at her hands. She went too far. That was rude of her. He’s Hinata’s friend, even if he was an absolute bastard with no respect for music. She always does this. Talks too much and sticks her foot in her mouth. There’s an apology on the tip of her tongue when Hinata speaks.

He’s tapping at his chin “You know, I always thought his serve ritual looked really cool, but I never thought about what it was like for the musicians,” He tips his head, a lopsided grin on his face “I bet it’s really annoying.”

She stares at him in surprise before she recovers. She clenches her hands in front of her, nodding her head sharply “Yes! It is! He has no respect for the quality of music — just about being a dramatic ass... hat” She finishes lamely.

Hinata only laughs “I always kind of thought that going from lots of music to no music was really eerie and too quiet, you know? It’s almost more of a distraction with it gone.”

Fumiko breathes in sharply ready to launch into the reading she’s been doing about the brain and perception and auditory learning and the ways in which sounds help focus — because it’s relevant alright! Soundscape and the absence of it are definitely a distraction to our ability to focus! Hinata leans in, excited to learn more, an eager grin on his face. Fumiko adjusts her glasses, grinning sharply back at him.

Finally, someone who actually bothered to hear her.

~~~

Fumiko thinks Hinata is playing well. She honestly has no idea. Inarizaki won the first thingie, and now they’re doing a second thingie, and Hinata got a bunch of points and he’s stayed on the court most of the time, and he’s usually wearing a big smile when he’s out there.

She asked one of her senpai how the orange haired #10 was doing and he looked kind of shocked to admit that Hinata was pretty good. With the exception of his serves; apparently that’s what the stupid ball punting was called. Fumiko was a little offended on Hinata’s behalf. Though the bite of that was a lot less sharp than the severe irritation she had everytime she allowed herself to be cut off by the whims of that prick Atsumu.

Hinata looked nervous every time he went up to the line to do his serve, and apparently he’s expected to do it pretty regularly in a single game? She watched the last time he was up, the way his face seemed to draw in on itself, like he almost needed to puke as the gymnasium fell into a sudden and painful silence around him. Or maybe he was waiting to be taken off the court for one of his taller teammates to once again do the serve for him.

It was pissing Fumiko off.

She’d told herself she’d be willing to put up with watching the game so long as she got to see Hinata wear his big goofy grin while he played. Everytime he went up to serve it made her feel bad for him, which reminded her of her annoyance at having to be here in the first place.

Watching for the umpteenth time as Hinata seemed to tense up even further as the music abruptly died, biting his lips as he smacked the ball over the net, was stressing Fumiko the hell out. It ended up as a point for Inarizaki after a long rally, which Fumiko guessed meant Hinata had to serve again—looking even more pukey than before. She grit her teeth.

What was that song that had Hinata slack jawed in sparkly eyed wonder on Monday? Telling her it felt like the biggest hero in the world was descending from the sky to save everyone? Like a Goku song only older and cooler. He’d actually honest to god wiggled in his seat when she told him it was called Summon the Heroes.

Choosing to act rather than think, leveraging her position in the middle of the section where the conductor and first trumpet couldn’t reach her, she sucked in a breath and raised her trumpet high. The first few notes almost seemed to echo through the horrifically silent gym, but she kept on, even as the rest of the band turned to face her with a mixture of horror and confusion and maybe a bit of anger.

Screw you guys. She was a musician first, a cheerleader nowhere near in the top ten of things that defined her.

Well, except maybe for her one friend, who looked like he was practically glittering down on the court as he listened to her song. She was summoning a hero alright.

Inarizaki didn’t get the point but Hinata gave her a jubilant wave and a very exaggerated thumbs up as he slid into defense. Fumiko wondered if his cheeks must hurt, he was smiling so wide.

She offered him a thumbs up back.

[On the court the rest of Inarizaki stiffened as the sound of a trumpet rang through the gymnasium. Atsumu looked downright murderous, glowering up into the stands where the band was sitting.

Osamu and Aran exchanged concerned glances before they turned to look at Hinata. His eyes were shut, a pleased little grin on his face as he listened to the trumpet, before he opened sharp and steady eyes to throw up his serve toss. Well. Guess not everyone performs under pure intimidating silence.]

~~~

After the game Atsumu started debating Gin heatedly about whether or not it was cooler to call for total silence when you served, or to have a lone brass instrument play in the background.

Inarizaki ended up being split pretty evenly about it but Hinata put his foot down. If Hinata couldn’t have a cool as hell soundtrack backing him up when he served then he wouldn’t make either Miya twins tamagoyaki ever again. Under pain of death at the hands of Osamu, Atsumu relented and gave his blessing for Hinata alone to have music play while he served.

By Inter-High Nationals five out of twelve players requested individual songs to play while they served.

Fumiko would only deign to play for Hinata.

Hanazawa Rui, ace for the soon to be top team in all of Hyougo, had been having an excellent tournament. This will be the year Yokosuka High finally unseats those damn bastards, Inarizaki High. Rui will finally triumph over his blasted rival: Miya Osamu. He can’t wait.

He’s been playing his best all tournament long. His setter is sharp. Their blocks are solid, and Rui has been working on a killer jump floater for the better part of a year, which has finally become deadly enough to rack up points for his team.

There’s only one small wrench in his plans.

“Inarizaki is up to something.” Rui’s coach announced to the team before the semi-final game that would undoubtedly see Yokosuka winning to face off against Inarizaki in the final for prefectural glory. Rui waited patiently for his coach to continue.

“It seems to me like that crafty old fox, Kurosu, is trying to hide a secret weapon from us.” Coach grumbled, tapping his hand to his clipboard.

In the three games Inarizaki had played, each only two set matches where Inarizaki wiped the floor with their opponents, Inarizaki had apparently rotated a particular player out of the line up lots. Specifically anytime Yokosuka came to watch one of their matches. They weren’t sure how Kurosu was doing it, if he just had a sharp eye looking for Yokosuka yellow in the crowds, or one of their endless old men or cheerleaders spying on them—but anytime a Yokosuka team member entered a gym Inarizaki was playing in, the next stop in play would see a very small player with orange hair subbed out for that Ginjima.

Rui hadn’t thought anything of it, had assumed the kid was just getting some on court experience while Inarizaki could afford to with a large lead over the other team. Though he had thought it weird that Inarizaki #10 was on the team at all. Who let this little kid wander onto the court?

Deep in his heart, Rui knows he’s personally offended that this kid was on Inarizaki at all, when he, one of the best players in his year in middle school, hadn't made the team. It had been a slap in the face that Ginjima and Kosaku had made Inarizaki over him that year. But this tiny kid? What the hell?

“I spoke to one of the officials and they gave me player stat records and I know something fishy is going on” Coach said, turning his clipboard around, where he’s written out point totals between three games for all Inarizaki players. Rui leans in closer, his eyebrows lifting in surprise.

“It looks like Kurosu is trying to mask what this little kid can do.” Coach said grimly. #10 had scored 11, 13, and 9 points in his last three matches. In a two set game that meant he was averaging close to a quarter of Inarizaki’s points? He was up there with Ojiro in point totals!

“I have some teachers and the girls team watching their semi-final game instead of ours so we can be prepared. But it looks like Inarizaki might have an ace up their sleeve.” Coach said with a small shake of his head.

Later that evening, after Yokosuka had crushed their opponents, Rui lay awake in his bed. He eventually gave up on sleeping, too distracted by thoughts of this mystery kid, choosing instead to go find information on Inarizaki’s #10, Hinata Shouyou. The kid was a ghost. There was no information on him anywhere. No news. No social media. No nothing. He tried looking up videos of the Inter-Middle tournaments from last year, trying to spot a head of orange in a sea of middle schoolers and came up empty. Just who exactly was this guy?

He would have given up for good, if he hadn’t chosen to spitefully scroll through Ojiro Aran’s instagram, quietly making fun of Inarizaki’s ace and his grossly perfect life. No one single person needed to go for boba as much as Ojiro did, with that creepy captain of his especially. Get some girlfriends, ya losers. Perhaps Rui did this because he hated Inarizaki. Or perhaps he did it for the rare occasion where Osamu would appear and Rui could really rip into that asshole’s ugly, bored looking face. Always so high and mighty, disinterested in the world around him.

And then Rui hit the jackpot. It was a photo from last summer, Ojiro had posted a selfie with a few of his teammates, the lot of them grinning like absolute dweebs. But most significantly, there was Inarizaki #10. And with an arm looped over his shoulder, head pressed into fluffy orange hair was Miya Osamu, throwing a lazy toothy smile and a peace sign at the camera.

Rui wanted to punch his ugly stupid face really badly. Wanted Osamu to look at him and think “Oh no! My biggest rival is here to defeat me.” Wanted Osamu to snap from his sleepy stupor to look at just Rui. And only Rui.

Staring intently at the beaming smile on Inarizaki’s #10, Rui had a pretty good idea of how he’d do just that

~~~

“Again?”

“I don’t know why you always have to ask every time I need to go, Osamu-san”

“Ya’ve taken like three shits already, we need t’get warmed up.”

“IT WASN’T THREE!” Inarizaki’s #10 whisper shrieked, his face on fire, glaring up at Osamu. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

Osamu only rolled his eyes and waved a hand “Whatever, Shouyou-kun. Do what ya gotta.”

#10 slunk away from the rest of his team, throwing a resentful look over his shoulder as he went creeping off towards the bathroom. Rui watched from his vantage point in a seating alcove as the kid clutched at his stomach, looking a little queasy. This is who had scored Inarizaki nearly a fourth of their points over the course of the tournament? Was he sick?

Clicking his tongue, Rui pushed to a stand, ignoring the inquiring looks from some of his team, as he followed the kid towards the bathroom. Last night after chancing on that photo of his fated rival cuddling up next to this mystery kid, Rui had begun to form a loose sort of plan. An abstract goal really. This tiny little first year, who had somehow found a spot on Inarizaki, where so many of his betters had failed, was the weak link in Inarizaki’s chain. Rui just knew it.

Watching Osamu coddle and tease the kid just now had confirmed it. Hell, even if he hadn’t been looking for it he probably still would have seen the way Ojiro had doted on the kid. Even their creepy as hell captain had come over to give the kid a head pat and an electrolyte drink while they watched the bronze medal game playing before their final.

Yup. Rattle #10 and Rui was pretty sure he’d throw most of Inarizaki off, and be secure in the knowledge that he’d reduced Inarizaki’s point racking abilities. Seriously though, this kid scored a quarter of their points? Rui was positive that if he threw the little gremlin off, it might be just enough to give Yokosuka the edge they needed to finally represent Hyougo at Nationals. It wasn’t like he was going to kick the shit out of the kid, he wasn’t a monster. No, Rui was just going to scare him a bit — work the old intimidating charm on a weakling first year.

Rui watched the kid face plant into the back of an enormous middle blocker from Hibiya Tech. Yup, Rui was right, this was a lily-livered nervous wreck of a kid. He watched #10 flail for a moment, squeaking and apologizing profusely. The giant middle blocker, without a change in expression, merely turned and offered a bow, which the kid returned. Freaking weirdos. The kid watched the middle blocker go, and Rui chose that moment to strike.

“Hey kid.” He drawled, stopping a few feet away with his hands stuffed into his pockets, tilting his head just so, eyes narrowed.

#10 stiffened, his shoulders ratcheting up to his ears, wrinkling the Inarizaki name on the back of his track jacket. He peeked over his shoulder, with wide horror filled eyes, face pale as a sheet. He spun with his hands out, like he was trying to soothe a wild beast from mauling his face off.

Amused, Rui flashed a bit of teeth in his smirk, making the kid quail further. “Uhm.” #10 said, high pitched and a bit breathlessly.

Almost feels bad how easy this was going to be. Like kicking a defenceless bunny. Anything to win though, Rui thought, ignoring the sweat beading on the kids’ face. “It’s a shame ain’t it?” he asked as he took a step forward.

The kid rocked back a bit, eyes darting towards the bathroom door beside him, before looking up with profound concern at Rui “Huh?”

Rui took a step forward, enjoying the way the kid flinched. He shrugged his shoulders “That Inarizaki has fallen so low.” He said with a despondent sigh.

The kid relaxed a bit as he rocked forward, a lot of the tension in his face releasing as he looked up at Rui with a confused head tilt “Why do you say that?”

Rui tipped his head up so he could look down his nose at the kid, giving him a condescending once over “I mean, look at the quality of starters they’ve got now.” and he clicked his tongue for good measure.

The kid just stared at him blankly for a moment before he blinked and lifted a finger to point at his face “Do you mean me?” Rui had to tamp down a baffled laugh, because that had not been the reaction he was expecting.

And then the kid blinked again, and his face opened up with dawning realization “Are you bullying me?”

Now it was Rui’s turn to rock back on his heels. What the hell? What was with that forthright call out? Feeling the thread of the conversation slipping him by, Rui set his shoulders “Nah, nah, you misunderstand me. I’m just a concerned, interested party, yknow?” He tipped his head to the side and gave a wolfish grin “I’m just giving you some friendly advice.”

“Ooh? Advice? I’d like to hear that.”

Rui stiffened and looked over his shoulder to find the goddamned Miya twins walking towards him. Atsumu had his ‘I’m going to smother you in your sleep’ pleasant guy smile on his face, of which Rui was all too familiar with from middle school and last year. Osamu though had dropped his usual bored expression to stare at Rui intently as he brushed past him to stand beside the pipsqueak. Rui had never in his life had Osamu look at him like that, and it set his heart racing.

“We wondered where ya had gone Shouyou-kun.” Atsumu said with his hands on his hips, back turned on Rui, entirely ignoring him to address #10.

“Toldja he wasn’t just takin’ a shit.” Osamu too had his back turned to Rui, infuriating him further. Look at me you bastard!

“Don’t say shit Osamu-san.”

“Toldja he didn’t just have the runs.”

“Osamu-san!”

“What advice didja get Shouyou-kun?” Atsumu spared Rui a quick glance before returning his attention to the small child in front of him. Rui bristled, tired of being ignored.

“Oh, I hadn’t received any yet. I think he was bullying me.” Hinata said, thoughtfully, pursing his lips and tilting his head. Like a confused puppy. What the hell what the hell what the hell!

That finally got the twins to turn around to face him, Atsumu with a murderous gleam to his smile, and Osamu wearing the flattest, most unimpressed look Rui had ever been on the receiving end in his life.

“Oh? Was he now?” Atsumu asked through bared teeth that didn’t move as he spoke.

“Mmmaaybe, I dunno. Actually I didn’t catch your name,” Hinata pushed forward to stand between the twins shoulders, and stare at Rui in askance.

Rui clenched his fist, annoyed that the twins hadn’t seen fit to tell their junior anything about their greatest rival. “I’m-”

“That’s Reijiro from Yokosuka.” Osamu said, bored. And just like that Rui’s world shattered in two. Miya fucking Osamu didn’t even know his name?

“Nah, his name’s Rai or somethin’.” Atsumu corrected, his brows pinched. Rui made a high pitched sound in the back of his throat.

“That doesn’t sound right, I think it’s Ryouta.” Osamu was squinting up at the ceiling. Was he serious right now?

“Or is it Ryo?”

“Maybe Ryoma?”

“He kinda looks like a Rikuto?”

“Roku”

“Robun”

“Aw man, let’s get some robata after we win today.” Osamu said, rubbing at his stomach. Rui had finally had enough.

“You won’t be having any robata! Not if I can help it! I’m going to crush you bastards into dust!” Rui all but shrieked, drawing the eyes of everyone else standing in the hallway. “Or my name isn’t Hanazawa Rui!”

The twins both wrinkled their noses. Atsumu shook his head “Rikuto is a way cooler name”

“I kinda liked Reijiro,” Osamu said with a shrug, before he squinted at Rui “Also I’m gonna eat as much robata as I want Hamataki, win or lose.” Rui wondered if a 16 year old had ever died of a stroke before, because he felt his blood pressure was getting awfully high.

“Oh, we’re definitely gonna win,” Atsumu with the teeth again, flicking a glance down at Hinata “Right, Shouyou-kun?”

“Right!” The kid chirped, beaming up at Atsumu.

Atsumu looped an arm around Hinata’s shoulders and tugged him forward “Alright, let’s go. We got warmups before we can get to an ass kicking.” He gave Rui a dark look at that. Osamu only nodded, his hand on Hinata’s back as he followed along, giving Rui that flat stare again. It felt an awful lot less heart racing now that Rui knew the twins had never bothered to learn his name properly. Even after all these years.

Rui gaped, watching them go. Had that actually just happened? Apparently his big rival didn’t even know his name? And was more of a prick than he thought? Also that kid! That kid who just bluntly informed those bastard Miya twins Rui was bullying him. Like some honest to god puppy. What the heck!?

“Oh!” Rui turned, using a glower to mask his hurt confusion, to look at Hinata peeking around the bulk of the twins, an open and earnest expression on his face.

“Hey, Hanazawa-san?” Hinata’s eyebrows were high on his forehead. Rui just scowled at him “Can you do me a favour?”

Rui’s scowl deepened “What?”

“This is my first time ever playing in a five set match, so can you try really hard to win a set or two? I’d love it if I got to play more sets today.” Hinata said with a purely innocent smile, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

Rui gaped at him, and continued doing so, even as Miya fucking Atsumu started howling with laughter. Osamu too had a big shit eating grin on his face as he led Hinata away.

As they turned the corner towards the gymnasium Rui could hear Hinata’s confused voice asking “What? What’s so funny? We’ve only played two sets the whole tournament! And we could play five today!” The twins only kept laughing, the sound ringing down the hallway even as they disappeared into the gym.

Rui was going to ruin that little fucker, mark his words.

~~~

By the skin of their teeth Yokosuka managed to barely squeak by and take the third set. Already feeling exhausted, Rui stomped towards their bench, wanting desperately to lay down and never get up. At least he’d managed a spike past stupid fucking Miya Osamu. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the most horrific display Rui has ever had the misfortune of seeing on a volleyball court.

Hinata was skipping off the court, his arms swinging with a big grin on his face. When he reached his bench he chirped “Oh man! I’m so excited we get to play another set. I can’t wait!”

Slumped on the Inarizaki bench with a towel over his face, Suna had the decency to let out a guttural moaning sound “Someone shut him up before I have to kill him.” But it was already too late, the kid’s excitement had rejuvenated their libero, Ojiro, and worst of all: Miya Atsumu.

“But we never even get to play a third set, so I can’t help but be happy we get to play four! That’s two more than normal.” Hinata had a hand out with four fingers up, grinning maniacally at his team.

“Ya know Shouyou-kun, you’re right,” Osamu said gravely “But please shut the fuck up about it, because you’re making everyone tired.” Hinata only laughed and whacked him on the back, making Osamu laugh and scruff Hinata's hair in retaliation.

God fucking dammit. Rui hated them all so goddamn much.

Chapter Text

When Riseki had mapped out his first year at Inarizaki, he thought he’d done a pretty good job of thinking through tons of possible variables.

Given the current makeup of the team, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t make starter, not in his first year. Of the wing spikers Osamu and Aran were a given, and there were two second years who had been jerseyed last year: Ginjima and Kosaku. Not to mention their new captain Kita. There was very little chance Riseki would distinguish himself enough to end up on the starting lineup.

Knowing this didn’t stop him from working hard though. Riseki had been confident in his final year of middle school that he could turn himself into a decent pinch server. That was how he was going to support Inarizaki until he’d grown and learned enough to be granted the honour of standing on the court next to his senpai. And man! He’d been looking forward to playing with Atsumu and Osamu again. It had been the thing that propelled him to work so hard, knowing what awaited him at the end of his path if he continued to focus.

A lot of his fellow third years at Yako Middle had thought he was kind of nuts, that he missed having practice with the twins. Heisuke, you know they’re assholes right? Seriously dude, are you a masochist?

Riseki isn’t stupid. He knows Atsumu and Osamu can be hard to like, especially when together. They’re abrasive and mean and petty, quick to make snap judgements about people and plays. They’re also the most talented volleyball players Riseki has ever met. And there is no feeling in the world that beats the moment one of the twins notices you and gives you their approval. Riseki will take a hundred jokes at his expense for the singular chance of Atsumu complimenting his serve or for Osamu to give him a small grin when he makes a good play.

They’re the reason he continued on with volleyball during his first year at Yako Middle. He remembers being so frustrated at never getting to play in actual games. How hard practices were without any benefit. He didn’t feel like he was having any fun, and why play a club sport if you aren’t having fun? His friends on the soccer team were always goofing off and having a good time. All Riseki had were bruises and sore muscles.

On the last day before he thought he might quit volleyball for good, three months into his first year at Yako Middle, Riseki had stayed late after practice wanting to get a few more serves in — the only thing he really liked about volleyball. It was the one thing he knew he did well, waaay better than his peers and even the older kids. But it was just one thing, and he was pretty mediocre at the rest of the game. It’s not like it could keep him on the court, even if he was called in for pinch serves sometimes.

He nailed a pretty satisfying jump serve, pleased to see it hit the corner just inside the paint when he heard a shout from behind him.

“Uwah!” Riseki whipped around to find one the Miya twins staring at him with a wide grin on his face — probably Atsumu then, Osamu was a lot more reserved. “That was sick! Just absolutely filthy!” Riseki cringed. He’d thought it was pretty good actually, but one of the Miya twins would know better, he guessed.

Atsumu marched up to him, picking up a ball from the cart and thrust it into Riseki’s hands “Do it again!”

Riseki stared at him blankly for a second, the excited expression on Atsumu’s face getting a little impatient as he flapped a hand to gesture that Riseki should serve again. Riseki shifted, tossed the ball up and nailed it again. Not as close to the paint this time, but still in what would be an annoying spot to dig.

Atsumu was shaking his head, a wide grin on his face “So disgusting!”

Riseki opened his mouth, but didn’t know how to politely ask his senpai if maybe he was a bit insane. Another voice cut in from behind them.

“He means he thought it was really cool.” Osamu said, looking surprisingly curious for someone who seemed to daydream off on his own so much. Riseki stiffened, staring at Osamu and then flicking his gaze over to the near identical face standing to his right.

“That’s what I said.” Atsumu said petulantly, scowling at his brother. Osamu only gave a long suffering sigh.

As one the twins both turned to look at Riseki once more, expectant light in their eyes. Osamu tipped his head “Ya gonna do it again?”

Riseki fidgeted for a moment, before hesitantly grabbing another ball and once again throwing up a jump serve. Both twins exclaimed in excitement when he did it, grinning madly at Riseki, making him go again and again until he ran out of balls.

Biting his lip Riseki flicked his gaze between the twins who were excitedly discussing the qualities of his serve, talking about how good it was—which was kinda surreal. Riseki didn’t know the twins knew how to give compliments. He cleared his throat “Uhm, are you guys gonna help me clean up?”

The twins stared at him like he was stupid, which was far more typical for them. Atsumu curled his lip “Heck no. That’s first year business.”

Riseki grimaced and nodded his head staring at the ground as he bent to clean up the gym “Oh, okay.”

“Man, it’s so cool to see a first year who’s better than most of our senpai.” Atsumu mused meanly, tapping his chin with fingers. Osamu hummed in agreement, watching Riseki pick up balls.

Riseki turned to stare at the twins, “But I’m not.” He said hoarsely.

The twins once again looked at him like he was stupid. Osamu tipped his head to the side “Nah, yer definitely better at servin’ than like, almost everyone on the team.”

“‘Cept me.” Atsumu boasted, puffing out his chest. Osamu scoffed at him.

“But I’m just a benchwarmer.” Riseki said, digging his nails into the calluses of his palm, developed over years of hard practice. Striking ball after ball out of midair. All for nought now that he was going to quit.

Atsumu looked genuinely confused “So? Who cares? Better a benchwarmer who’s great at somethin’ than a scrub who only earned his spot on the court ‘cause he’s a third year and tall.” Atsumu planted his hands on his hips, looking ridiculously unauthoritative for a thirteen year old “As if bein’ tall is a talent.” Atsumu had been picking fights with the popular, if kind of unskilled, middle blocker third year. It had led to a lot of the team ostracizing Atsumu, even if his sets were most of the reason Yako Middle won so many games.

“We’ll hit our growth spurt one day.” Osamu said mock consolingly, patting Atsumu on the shoulder—dodging a swipe from his twin.

And then Atsumu huffed, flicked a glance at Riseki and turned his face towards the door “Welp. I’m hungry. Let’s go find out what Ma’ made us for supper.” He made eye contact with Riseki as he started to walk away, Osamu trailing behind him “Seeya tomorrow Heisuke-kun.”

And like that they were gone. After that interaction Riseki decided to show up to practice the next day just to see how he’d feel. That went well so he decided to show up the next day after that, and on and on, until in his third year he was made into a captain. He’d strived for that feeling the twins engendered in him for years now. That sense of security, knowing someone strong and reliable had your back. The pride of having someone so great and powerful recognize something worthwhile in you.

Riseki had to play at Inarizaki. He knew he wouldn’t be a starter. Not in his first year. But that was okay, just so long as he got to be a part of a team with the twins again. Part of him had been a bit worried they wouldn’t remember him, after a year apart. But then they’d shown up to his game at the Inter-Middle tournament last May! To cheer him on! And heckle him... But that was just their way of showing attention. Maybe affection. Kind of?

What Riseki had not been ready for was the potential repercussions of the twins coming to that particular game, that had felt so small and insignificant in the grand scheme of his volleyball career and his relationship with the twins. And yet...

“Hi! You’re Riseki-kun right? My name is Hinata Shouyou! We played each other last year and you wiped the floor with my team! It was really awful... But! You had a wicked cool jump serve! Like SHWAAM! I think you had like, eight service aces it was so cool! I’d never seen someone get so many at once, it was really awesome~!”

Riseki stood slightly apart from his former Yako Middle teammates, waiting for the Inarizaki tryouts to get started in earnest. He turned to stare down blankly at the short kid beaming up at him while he flapped his arms to emphasize his ramble. Short kid with orange hair.

A memory skitters through his mind [“Ya know who that orange haired kid was?”].

Him. It was him. The freaky jump short guy! The one his setter, Miyano-kun, had tried to insult. The one Atsumu had asked after and then walked away for. He was going to try out for Inarizaki? Riseki tried searching his memory for any plays of significance this kid might have made that would warrant him coming to Inarizaki. Outside of his jump, Riseki pulled up nothing.

“Uhh, hi?” Riseki bobbed forward in a shallow bow, feeling awkward.

Hinata just kept beaming at him “Hi! Osamu-san and Atsumu-san said I should come find you because I wouldn’t know anyone at the tryouts and they said you’d take care of me!” And then his eyes widened, as if he’d forgotten his manners and he leaned forward in a deep bow “Please take care of me!”

Riseki stared at the mop of orange hair in front of him, trying to parse Hinata’s words. ‘Atsumu-san? Osamu-san?’ and ‘Take care of him?’

Riseki would learn that Hinata was a chatty person over the next few weekends for tryouts. It was from one of Hinata’s excited ramblings that he laid the entire story out. He’s friends (Friends!?) with the twins. He’s been doing secret training with them at Inarizaki since literally the day after Riseki met Hinata across the court. Apparently other Inarizaki senpai were helping out too, including Ojiro-senpai???

Strangest of all was that Hinata kept referring to the twins as nice or kind. Riseki held a lot of affection for his old senpai, had tremendous respect for them. But there was no universe where the two biggest assholes in all of volleyball were nice or kind. Riseki began to suspect that perhaps Hinata was a very strange person.

Oh sure, he’d had a brief flare of indignant jealousy that burned in his chest at the thought of this know nothing kid getting to hang out with the people Riseki had quietly dedicated his volleyball career to. But then you watched Hinata play and he was really good, and worked so hard and was so friendly with everyone, even to the tall arrogant boys who tried to put him down for his height—usually after putting them in their place with a well timed spike or block. He had a loud determination about him that was kind of inspiring, making Riseki want to run just that much faster, play that much harder. It made Riseki want to work hard so he wouldn’t be left behind.

And then one day during some free time Riseki had tried to get some serves in and Hinata had wandered over to pick his brain about his process — while effusively complimenting him — and even though Riseki was annoyed to be asked by this USURPER, he still explained himself and gave Hinata some tips.

The next day, all 108 boys attending the tryouts were very confused to see Hinata walk in with a carton of eggs for Riseki “As thank you for helping me with my serve!”

That night when Riseki cracked one of his eggs over rice like Hinata had suggested he do, he took a bite and found he had to lay his head on the table. It was very good. And Hinata was very nice. And Riseki had realized there was probably no universe where the two of them weren’t going to be friends, because Riseki was pretty sure he was getting on the team, and he was absolutely positive Hinata was. From that eggy rice onwards, Riseki resigned himself to what would likely be three years of friendship with Hinata Shouyou. Probably longer.

As Riseki finished off his rice, getting up to grab some more along with another egg to crack over top, he mused that Hinata seemed like the type of person to badger him to come play volleyball even after they were wrinkly and old and arthritic.

Besides, Riseki thinks it might be good for Hinata to have friends outside of Atsumu and Osamu — he doesn’t think he’s jealously, squirreling Hinata away from the twins, trying to create space between them. More like... Riseki makes sure he pairs off with Hinata before the twins can at practices to ensure Hinata doesn’t get absorbed into whatever groupthink the Miya twins have going on. Part of him wants to preserve Hinata’s kindness from the twins' influence. And part of it is maybe that Riseki likes being on the receiving end of Hinata’s limitless compliment showers.

They’re really good for his confidence.

Riseki knows he’s probably doing the right thing, because Akagi and Aran basically told him as much right before the Inter-High qualifiers. “It’s good for Shouyou to have attachments to the team outside of the twins.” Which was pretty rich coming from Aran, seeing as how Hinata basically worshipped the ground he walked on, constantly mooning over the cool things Aran did in practice.

Akagi obviously thought the same because he scoffed “Yeah, uhuh, anyways, make sure ya introduce him to people outside the volleyball team too. Keep the kid well rounded Heisuke-kun.”

Which Riseki really didn’t need to bother with. Hinata had the raw, unchecked charisma of a puppy. Everyone wanted to be his friend, to bask in his attention and his smile. In fact, despite coming to Inarizaki with many of his peers from Yako Middle, Hinata had introduced Riseki to waaaay more of his cohort in their first month of high school, than Riseki thought he’d meet in three years of high school. .

Hinata also had a preternatural gift for looping Riseki into shenanigans, which as a relatively upstanding student, and more than a few people telling him he can be a little bit anxious and uptight, was kind of surprising. Apparently Hinata’s class 2 was in the midst of an ongoing prank battle and Hinata required the help of someone tall.

“I really don’t see how this is a good use of our time Hinata.” Riseki grumbled, taking the blackboard erasers Hinata was handing him and balancing them on top of the doorway. Why was he helping anyways? He was in class 5, this had nothing to do with him. It had taken one smile and a cajoling joke for Riseki to show up today. He wondered if perhaps Hinata Shouyou might be some kind of witch?

Hinata spent a few minutes lovingly drawing enormous poop swirls on the whiteboard in blue and red, with green flies buzzing around, before coming to help him. Come to think of it, all Inarizaki classrooms used white boards now, so where the heck had Hinata procured chalk dusted blackboard erasers?

Hinata just gave him a toothy grin, gesturing for Riseki to follow him into the shared storage closet at the back of the classroom that was attached to Hinata’s classroom. Hinata lurked in the doorway with his phone out, ready to take a video of the mayhem.

“I got the idea from one of Natsu’s shoujo manga.” Hinata explained with a chaotic glint in his eyes.

How old were the manga his sister was reading? “Where’d you get blackboard erasers from anyways?” Riseki asked around a half defeated sigh. Hinata just shushed him as the door opened, clattering the erasers onto the Class 1 rep.

“Class 2 rules!” Hinata howled, shoving Riskei back into the closet and slamming the door to escape into his own classroom. As stupid as it was, Riseki couldn’t help himself from smiling a bit at the happy laughter Hinata and a bunch of his classmates burst into as he showed them the video. Even Ito Fumiko cracked a small smile, which made her already very nice face even prettier.

Riseki was less thrilled about some of the other shenanigans Hinata roped him into, like running interference for Hinata with the track team. It was the seventh day in two weeks that Hinata had needed to run a full sprint into the relative safety of the gymnasium away from the track club and their very pushy captain.

“I really think we should tell someone Hinata,” Riseki grumbled, handing over Hinata’s discarded bag, which he’d thrown at Riseki during his flight away from two long distance runners a few minutes ago. “Kita-senpai at least.”

Hinata only snorted, loosening his tie “It’s not a big deal. Actually really it’s kind of a good warm up before practice gets started, if you really think about it.” He gave Riseki a cheeky grin.

“You had to run two laps around the outdoor track yesterday.” Riseki said, looking down at his friend with narrowed eyes.

Hinata's eyes went big as he grinned wide, remembering his triumph. It had been downright absurd to watch Hinata, still in his uniform blazer and slacks with his tie flapping behind him like a banner, being chased by seven members of the track team. And yet still he managed to successfully escape. “Yeah, I think they were trying to herd me there or something.” Hinata rubbed at his chin thoughtfully “It’s kind of exciting. I’ll have to out fox them tomorrow.” He gave an exaggerated wink, waiting for Riseki to laugh at his very bad joke.

Riseki grimaced, holding his silence for only two days more. After watching a shot putter grip the strap of Hinata’s bag as he leapt down the stairs, causing Hinata to collide with a wall, grunt and then once again discard his bag and take off, Riseki had decided enough was enough. He was going to tell someone.

Only he hadn’t exactly planned to have Atsumu overhear him as he laid out everything to Aran. And then the rest was more or less history. Riseki got to watch his senpai almost kill each other, then almost kill the track club captain, then witnessed Kita be absolutely terrifying, until finally Hinata was set free from the shackles(?) of the track club’s oppression(?). Omimi-senpai could be weirdly intense about things sometimes.

So he’d enjoyed his friendship with Hinata, as unexpected as he was. Riseki didn't allow himself to be jealous of the fact that Hinata had earned himself a spot on the starting roster — he did deserve it after all. And Riseki tempered his frustration at the natural ease Hinata had with Atsumu and Osamu, like he’d always been a part of their unit. In fact, Riseki felt he’d done a pretty good job being a supportive and good friend up until the second game of the Inter-High qualifiers and he’d had the misfortune of falling in love.

As the first strong notes of the trumpet echoed throughout the gymnasium, calling to Hinata for a triumphant serve, Riseki only had eyes on the stands. There, standing a head taller than most of the other band members around her, trumpet raised high as her song broke through the crowd, was Ito Fumiko. Looking like the herald of some god. She was so cool. She was so tall. She was absolutely magnificent. Riseki was in love.

Which meant he was a terrible friend, because Hinata was obviously already into her, he hung out with her often enough. If Hinata wasn’t hanging out with Atsumu and Osamu, he could inevitably be found somewhere with Fumiko. She apparently invited Hinata to watch her practice, which sounded very heart racing to Riseki. He tried not to wonder what exactly they were practicing. And they were always talking, and Hinata talked about her a lot, and he had recordings of her playing trumpet on his phone, which was basically equivalent to having pictures of your girlfriend, right?

So while Riseki had done an admirable job not being jealous of Hinata for his skills at volleyball, or his friendship with the twins, or his ability to fit in with the team; Riseki couldn’t help but resent his friend for how lucky he was when it came to Fumiko. Riseki even found himself thinking uncharitable things, like how unfair it was that Hinata was dating a girl practically 20cm taller than him.

Riseki was determined not to infringe on their relationship. He’d be a good friend. No matter how much it hurt. It made sense now why Hinata never seemed interested in talking about girls, when it was all Ginjima and Akagi ever talked about loudly in the locker room. He didn’t have to, he already had a girlfriend. And she was the most wonderful creature Riseki had ever met.

Riseki spent ten whole days trying to tamp down his resentments, striving to be the friend Hinata deserved, when he was asked for a favour. Hinata cornered him at lunch a week after they’d won the right to represent Hyougo at the nationals that summer. “Riseki-kun~ I need your help please!” And then he’d bowed low with his hands clapped in front of him in prayer above his head.

Which was how Riseki found himself seated across from Fumiko, stuttering over math explanations as he tried to help Hinata and Fumiko study. A small part of him rejoiced at the chance to be in her presence. Another, larger part of him resented Hinata even more painfully for rubbing his idyllic high school romance in Riseki’s face.

Though the longer he sat there with them, Riseki was beginning to find himself a bit confused.

Fumiko was kind of mean to Hinata. Hinata whined at her an awful lot. The vibe he was getting was definitely less flirting and a lot more... siblings? Yeah, definitely siblings.

He was so distracted by his thoughts, that after a relatively simple math problem that both Hinata and Fumiko struggled with, Riseki forgot to hold his tongue and blurted “Ito-san, I’m surprised. I would have thought you’d be a lot more comfortable with these topics. You seem so smart.” And then Riseki felt his cheeks go warm because that sounded bad, hadn’t it?

Fumiko only narrowed her eyes at him, adjusting her glasses as she humphed “I don’t have time to focus on troublesome things.”

“She means she’s a trumpet otaku, so she doesn’t pay attention in class either.” Hinata stage whispered to Riseki, an impish smile pulling at his lips. Fumiko kicked him under the table causing Hinata to yelp.

“Zip it, volleyball otaku-chan.”

Siblings? Maybe? Dare he hope? Should he ask Hinata?

And thus, “super powered tri-fecta homework group” was established. Hinata would not take feedback on the name, so that’s what the group chat between the three of them was called. And it was honestly less a homework group and more Riseki tutoring two very unwilling students. Apparently both Fumiko and Hinata had been threatened by their respective club captains with benching (or the equivalent in band) if they didn’t keep their grades up.

He was being a good friend, helping Hinata out. He also got to spend time with the most fascinating creature Riseki had ever laid eyes on. And the more time he spent with them, the more Riseki was starting to believe in his hypothesis, that Hinata (probably) really wasn’t dating Fumiko?

At the very least Riseki was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to give the girls you liked wet willies as they started nodding off upright in their chairs during study time. And Riseki had watched Hinata do that to poor Fumiko twice now.

“Melon time!” Hinata hollered, fists in the air as he hopped off the bus behind the rest of the team. The twins whirled around to whoop at him, and as a unit all three of them started making their way across the parking lot.

Kita didn’t even bother raising his voice “Where do ya think yer goin’?”

All three hooligans froze in place, pale faces turning to look over their shoulders at him in wide eyed terror.

“Y’know Shinsuke, I’m pretty sure you said everyone needed to stay together. Not to cause trouble when we got off the bus.” Aran leaned towards him, arms crossed, an unimpressed look on his face as he watched their troublemakers.

Kita hummed, continuing to stare at Atsumu, Osamu, and Hinata as they drooped and scuttled back to rejoin the team. Turning, he looked up at the ryokan their team was going to be staying at for the duration of the Inter-High Nationals. Fans, representatives from the school, and the brass band were staying in a hotel half a block down the street. It was tradition for Inarizaki’s men’s team to avoid the distractions of schoolmates and other teams while at nationals by booking an entire smaller ryokan to itself. Players and coaches only.

While he wouldn’t tolerate the team goofing off or getting lost in the city in their down time, he could understand the appeal. Ibaraki prefecture was known for its agricultural sector, and it was late enough in the summer for the first harvest. Fruits and vegetables would be amazing right now. Perhaps he ought to talk to the coaches about getting a reward of melon and some strawberries if they won their first match tomorrow?

Shouldering his bag and picking up the briefcase where he stored his school supplies, Kita looked over his team. “Let’s get checked in, set down our bags, then we have a team meeting about our first match tomorrow.”

Near the back of the group where Hinata was standing between the twins, Suna on Osamu’s left scrunched his face, muttering under his breath. Kita kept his face carefully blank as he stared unblinkingly at Suna “Yes Rintarou, more game tape.” Suna flinched and looked almost sheepish “Alright everyone, let’s go.”

This was Kita’s fifth consecutive nationals tournament since he joined Inarizaki in his first year. His first time in Hitachinaka though, and not for the first time Kita regretted that once again they weren’t going to have enough time to explore the city they visited. Volleyball came first. Though Hinata did have a solid idea, fresh melon would be absolutely lovely to ward off the heat in the evening. However that could come later, after the rules were clearly articulated and understood by the whole team. They had opening ceremonies and their first match tomorrow after all.

It was funny. Kita had never really been nervous at nationals, never really had need to. He’d once told Aran that he didn’t see any point in getting yourself worked up over nerves, when the knowledge that long practices had done enough to prepare him. Nationals was nothing but more volleyball, just with a few more people paying attention to you. Nothing to fear. Inarizaki already garnered plenty of attention over the years.

There had been a warm buzzing sensation suffusing his chest since he’d had Hyougo’s gold medal looped around his neck. Kita eventually identified it as anticipation. He’d certainly enjoyed and even looked forward to national tournaments before. It was exciting to see other strong teams and their disparate philosophies compete. It was nice getting to know his own team better, to push each other to their limits. But this might be the first time Kita was genuinely excited about being on the national stage with his team.

He’d asked Aran about it a few days after their victory at the qualifiers, slightly concerned that he felt so restless. When he described the feeling and when it had started, Aran had only given him a funny look.

“Doesn’t that just mean you’re excited for nationals?”

Kita had only stared at him blankly.

“Shinsuke, you’re just excited like the rest of us, it’s fine.” Aran was looking at him with fond exasperation.

Kita tipped his head up to look at the sky, “But I’ve never felt like this before.” That only made Aran laugh at him though. Perhaps it was silly that unlike every other player who’d had the privilege of attending nationals, Kita was only now on his fifth visit finally getting himself excited.

He had his most excitable kouhai to thank for that.

Being right was its own kind of reward, something Kita often found himself revelling in. He liked knowing all the answers in class. He enjoyed learning the weaknesses they could exploit in their opponents. To predict when a player on his own team might try and misbehave. But nothing to date could beat the high of knowing he’d been right about Hinata. Watching him worm his way into the hearts of everyone on the team, including the coaching staff had been satisfying. Witnessing that first perfectly executed quick in their practice match against the college team had been incredible. Kita doesn’t think he’s ever been prouder than he was watching Hinata succeed and shine during the qualifiers.

Yes, he’d been right about Hinata Shouyou, proving his judgement could be trusted — not just to Coach Kurosu and Coach Oomi, but to himself.

This was the first time he’d be visiting nationals as a captain. And it was the first time he was stepping onto one of the orange courts with living proof of his intuition. Kita had already been proven right about Hinata to all of Hyougo. Now it was time to show Japan just what they were made of. The thought bloomed a fierce sense of pride in his chest.

Leading up to their departure from Kobe, Kita had done his best to check on Hinata throughout the trip — making sure the twins weren’t riling him up too much, that Suna wasn’t telling horror stories. Kita had been more than a little alarmed right before their first practice match of the year, when bright and bubbly Hinata had found himself needing to dive into the bathroom to settle his ‘nerves’. And then doing the same ritual before every match they played.

At first Kita had wondered if it was a hand washing thing at first, only to overhear Osamu teasing Hinata about his “Nervous shits” or after Hinata corrected him “The nervous runs” much to Hinata’s loud embarrassment.

Hinata’s habit of working himself into stress induced stomach troubles had persisted throughout their successive practice matches, and the Inter-High qualifiers. Kita could only marvel. Here was this boy, brazen and bright and fun loving, just as loudly competitive as the twins — hiding away from the team, genuinely afraid of their opponents. It always struck Kita as odd that this behaviour would only last only as long as warmups. The second Hinata had the chance to spike one of Atsumu’s sets, he’d be right back to normal.

Kita found the requirements needed to keep Hinata successful on the court, compared to the rest of the team utterly fascinating. As expected, Hinata Shouyou was unlike any other player Kita had ever encountered.

After the second game of the qualifiers, Kita had tried to intervene as a good captain should “Y’know Hinata-kun. There’s no need to be so nervous before a game.” Hinata had blinked owlishly at him, chewing slightly on the mouth of his water bottle. Kita had to curb the urge to pluck the bottle from him. He tried for a serene smile “You’ve been playing very well so far.”

The water bottle popped from Hinata’s mouth with an audible wet sound. He smiled “Thanks Kita-san!”

Perhaps he did not realize he worked himself up so terribly? Kita tried a different angle “I’ve noticed ya seem a bit nervous before we play our games?”

Hinata gave him a sheepish smile and a shrug “I guess I get pretty jittery.”

On the bus ride to Kokusai University for a practice match back in April, Hinata had vomited on Gin’s shoes, and then locked himself in a bathroom for twenty minutes upon arrival at the university. ‘Jittery’ was certainly a way one could describe Hinata’s pre-game nerves, inadequate as it was.

“Have ya thought perhaps there’s no need for you to be so nervous?” Kita repeated, keeping his expression warm. Hinata grimaced a bit and shrugged in a ‘I dunno’ gesture, that Kita recognized as Hinata having picked up from one of the twins in the last few months. “May I ask what makes ya so nervous?”

Hinata cast a furtive glance around the hallway, before he leaned in, keeping his voice low. Kita found himself mirroring his posture “Well, it kinda starts with me thinking about how tall everyone is. And how much more experienced they all are.” Kita nods his head thoughtfully, he imagines game settings could be nerve wracking for one so small and inexperienced “And then I start imagining all the ways things could go wrong.”

It was funny, all these things that made Hinata nervous outside of a game, were challenges he reveled in overcoming in the middle of a match. A player too tall? He’d try and spike over them. Someone more seasoned than him? Hinata would defy their understanding and expectations. Momentum shifting? Hinata would fight tooth and nail to keep momentum on their side, going all in on Atsumu’s wildest plays. And yet off court all these prospects terrified him.

Kita nodded solemnly “Catastrophizing, yes.” Hinata only stareed at him blankly. Perhaps he ought not have used a five dollar words as his Gran would say. “Stressing about different outcomes. There’s no need to fear Hinata-kun. Ya play well. Ya practice hard. We have one of the best teams to support ya, and best of all,” Here Kita allows himself a small grin, feeling proud “All of Hyougo is behind ya.”

Hinata stared up at him, in what Kita critically mistook as awe “All of Hyougo?” He asked faintly.

“Have ya seen the stands? We got so many people cheering us on.” Kita said with a nod. It’s only then that Kita sees Hinata’s wide eyes and pale face for what it is — someone absolutely terrified. Oh no. He’d meant to be reassuring.

“That’s a lot of people to let down.” Hinata wheezed, his lower lip abused by gnawing teeth.

Before Kita can say anything to rectify the situation he's caused, Akagi and Aran joined them. Akagi looped an arm tightly around Hinata’s neck, dragging him forward “C’mon kiddo, we get chocolate milk when we win, that’s how it works!” Hinata says something faintly that just makes Akagi laugh “I’ll letcha buy for me this time, only ‘cause you played so good.” Whatever Hinata says in response to that is muffled by Akagi’s laughter as they round a corner, out of sight.

Still rooted to his spot, Kita watches the shortest players on their team walk away. Aran is watching him concerned “Are you okay?”

Kita looks up at his friend, before averting his gaze to stare off into the middle distance “I think I may have broken Hinata-kun.”

“I thought you didn’t scare him, though?” Aran says with a laugh. It’s common knowledge that the only player on the team outside of the third years who isn’t objectively terrified of Kita is Hinata. Aran’s laughter quickly dies when Kita’s expression doesn’t change “Broke him how?”

“Under the weight of Hyougo’s expectations.” Kita said gravely.

Aran only snorted “You’ve been hanging out with Ren too much.”

It’s regrettable that Kita ended up being right. For the first time since Gin’s poor shoes had been on the receiving end of a Hinata surprise back in April, Hinata puked outside the arena as they were walking up the next day for their third game of the Inter-High.

Kita didn’t want to make the same mistakes with Hinata. He would be more thoughtful this time.

It’s with only a little trepidation that Kita scans the crowds of hundreds of volleyball players from around Japan, looking for a telltale head of orange hair. Opening ceremonies will be starting soon, and Hinata had been looking a bit green around the gills as Inarizaki walked up to Hitachinaka Sports Park Gymnasium. Though Hinata had been fine this morning, practically vibrating with anticipation, enough so that he woke Atsumu — waking some of the team with their squabbling, as Atsumu attempted to smother Hinata into calming down. This unfortunately woke Osamu, and any player who’d have been able to sleep through Hinata and Atsumu wrestling, found themselves awoken shortly by Osamu’s indignant shouts.

Kita was going to have to remember to keep the three of them from sleeping near each other during the Summer training camp in a few weeks, if the team was going to get adequate rest.

Hinata had even been fine during the warm ups at the practice gym Coach Kurosu had booked for them, eagerly talking about all the volleyball he couldn’t wait to play. It was only as the team had started to assemble to leave the gym for the tournament venue that a thread of tension seemed to work its way into Hinata's shoulders. He grew quieter, more jumpy, less prone to laughing at everything Atsumu and Osamu said. He’d accidentally run into a player who must have been 200cm tall on the way up the stairs to the venue, and had yelped so loudly, Kita had been momentarily concerned he’d injured himself.

Kita had allowed the team to disperse, almost asking Riseki to keep an eye on Hinata, only to find that shortly after the team spread out through the concourse, Hinata had calmed down significantly. It was all thanks to Hinata’s very good and very surly friend, Fumiko.

Kita managed to spot her first, seeing Hinata at her shoulder, talking animatedly with her. Kita couldn’t help the small amused curl of his lips at the sight. They were a funny pair. Kita had only had the pleasure of one interaction with Fumiko directly so far, but she seemed Hinata’s opposite in many ways — not just with their pronounced differences in height. She was a rather unfriendly and joyless person. But she seemed to like Hinata well enough, going out of her way to find him in crowds of tall volleyball players, despite the fact that Kita was quite sure Fumiko didn’t like volleyball, let alone volleyball players very much. Judging by her scowl as a player jostled by her.

“What’re you smiling at?”

Kita tipped his head up to look at Aran, his own warm smile curious. Kita lifted his hand in a vague gesture towards where Fumiko and Hinata were chatting. Aran’s grey eyes twinkled with amusement “Ah, the twins were wondering where he’d gone off to—”

On cue Atsumu shouted from Kita’s other side “There ya are Shouyou-kun!” And then barreled through a crowd not parting fast enough, towards the pair. Hinata with a big bright smile on his face, Fumiko with a look of disgusted impatience. Without further ado Fumiko tipped her head down to say something to Hinata before she melted through the crowd, away before Atsumu could reach them.

Her reaction was enough to pull an amused huff from Kita, earning him a teasing grin from Aran. Kita only shrugged “They’re pretty funny.” Aran’s smile grew a bit toothy as he shook his head.

“C’mon, Coach wanted to gather us up, and it looks like Atsumu has a handle on Shouyou.” Aran gestured over his shoulder, chin jerking to where Gin and Suna were making their way through the crowd back towards the team, having heard their summons.

As they walked through the crowd, Aran cutting easily through the crowd of volleyball players, Kita chanced another glance back at Hinata and Atsumu, both of them chattering excitedly at each other.

“Hinata-kun doesn’t seem nervous.”

Aran peeked over his shoulder at Kita, before flicking his gaze over towards the pair “Y’know, you might be right. I don’t think I’ve seen him run off to the bathroom once.”

Kita smiled “Just excited then.” Aran gave him another grin and a nod. This was excellent news. A focused Hinata was a far more effective player, and if they didn’t have to deal with his warm up nerves, he was likely going to have an excellent tournament.

He was glad he wouldn’t have to fret over Hinata’s condition this tournament. That was good.

Kita was excited to see how this all was going to turn out for his favorite kouhai. He looked forward to watching Hinata succeed. Perhaps even more than that, he looked forward to the rest of Japan witnessing it too.

“I don’t know why you feel like you have to accompany me Hinata.” Riseki was darting through the crowds, desperately trying to find the nearest bathroom. His stomach had been unsettled since that morning before opening ceremonies, after Suna made a passing comment about the thousands of spectators that came to watch the Inter-High Nationals. The twins followed that up with a “hilarious” story of a pinch server who nailed his own middle blocker in the back of the head last year, to raucous laughter from the crowd.

Stories of Riseki’s living nightmare had resulted in him having what Hinata liked to call a “shy bladder”. When really what it was, was Riseki desperately thinking he needed to poop every ten minutes as his insides rebelled against him. Actually, now that he thought about it, wasn’t it normally Hinata who desperately cried tummy troubles right before games?

Hinata only beamed, faring much better than Riseki at darting through the crowds, not quite large enough to clear the way for his taller friend. “I told you, I’m worried about you and fated bathroom encounters.”

Ah yes. Hinata and his supposed “fated encounters” in bathrooms. That’s what he called running into players from other teams who tried to bully him. Riseki was pretty confident he wouldn’t be much of a target to other players, given his neutral coloring and being of average height for the nationals volleyball tournament, but it was sweet of Hinata to be worried about him all the same.

“How is this not happening to you at all?” Riseki asked, only a little resentfully as his tummy gurgled warningly at him.

Hinata looked over his shoulder and shrugged “I dunno- I feel more excited than anything.” And that was the truth. He’d spent last evening splashing the other first years in the communal baths, making bold declarations for everything he was going to accomplish during nationals. One hundred spikes! One hundred blocks! One hundred digs! You’ll see! And then spent a good hour after lights out wiggling in his futon until Osamu threatened to smother him with a pillow if he didn’t stop moving.

“Besides, how can I be nervous when there’s so many amazing teams to play-” Hinata was cut off as he face planted into the back of a tall player, sending the two of them sprawling to the ground. Hinata made a squawking sound on his way down, landing flat on top of the poor guy.

“Hinata!” Riseki cried, half embarrassed, half alarmed as they drew the eyes of nearly the entire crowd surging around them.

“My, my, how the turn tables.” An amused drawl came from underneath Hinata. For his part, Hinata popped up already throwing apologies, his hands fluttering and darting to pick up the book he’d knocked out of the poor guy’s hands.

The long, lanky body rolled upwards to stand as if on a marionette on strings, spindly fingers flexing and wrists rotating. Riseki was pretty sure he recognized that white and purple track suit. Spiked red hair waggled with the grotesque movement of the person’s neck, as he turned it at a near 180 degree angle, cocking it to the side at an even more improbable angle to leer at Hinata and Riseki with wide beady eyes.

Holy fuck it was the Guess Monster. Hinata knocked over the Guess Monster. Oh my god.

“That was certainly one way to greet a person.” Tendou said in a deeply unsettling sing song. Riseki’s already overburdened tummy gave another uncomfortable lurch. “Little foxes getting lost, hmmm?”

Oh god he was going to shit his pants because of the Guess Monster. Atsumu and Osamu would never let him live it down. Riseki could barely remember how to breathe let alone respond. Maybe if he passed out first, he could pretend that was why he’d pooped his pants, and not terrifying middle blockers from other schools.

Hinata pressed forward, his face flushed and his eyes closed, bowed low, holding the book out “I’m really sorry! That was my fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m so sorry for knocking you down.”

Tendou maintained his squinty stare at the top of Hinata’s head, lips curling disconcertingly. He reached out a long figured hand and plucked the book out of Hinata’s hold. “I didn’t know little foxes could be polite~” The curl of his lip indicated that he was amused by this observation. Or was thinking about eating their skin — oh god.

Then his gaze slid over to Riseki, eyes narrowing further. Riseki once again forgot to breathe but pressed into his own bow, not trusting himself to speak.

“Little foxes?” Hinata asked, with a perfectly innocent head tilt. Riseki felt a part of his soul leave his body. It would be cowardly to flee, ditching Hinata to his fate at the Guess Monster’s hands, but he didn’t think he could take Hinata prologining this interaction any further.

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmm?”

“You called us little foxes?” Hinata repeated, staring up at Tendou earnestly.

Tendou blinked his large eyes once, twice, and then his lips curled up almost Grinch-like. “You are little foxes aren’t you? Little Inarizaki?”

Hinata pursed his lips like he was trying to figure out if that was a dig about his height, or just a reference to his status as a first year. Riseki was silently praying that Hinata not pick a fight here, with the Guess Monster of all people. Not while Riseki still really needed to poop.

“Tendou, what’d I tell you about bullying other teams?” A voice complained, approaching them. Some fancy looking guy with floofy hair in a colour not too dissimilar to Kita’s. Though... Riseki very much doubted Kita would ever paint his fingernails black. He too was in a Shiratorizawa tracksuit.

“Semisemi,” Tendou clucked “I did no such thing. Or at least I didn’t start it,” He raised a spindly finger to point in Hinata’s face “He knocked me down first.”

Semi squinted his eyes at Hinata, trying to discern if that was physically possible given their size difference. And then he shook his head and sighed “What did I tell you about reading Jump in the middle of the corridor?”

“Oh~ someone’s in a scolding mood today. Did someone not get his mandated beauty nap?” Tendou asked, in a tone that implied he knew exactly what the answer was to that question.

Semi looked like he was about to bristle when Hinata leaned forward “Ooh! You have the new Jump! Did you stop somewhere to pick it up today?” He had an eager little grin on his face as he looked up at Tendou.

Tendou and Semi blinked, before Tendou bent forward, bringing his nose within inches of Hinata’s, eyes narrowed and scrutinizing his face for something. And then he leaned back as suddenly as he had come “Mhmm.”

“Is the new Gintama worth it this week?”

Tendou cocked his head to the side “I was just about to start it when you knocked me over.”

“Ah, I’m sorry about that. I’m really excited about the arc they’re in right now.” Hinata said, swinging his arms back and forth, his megawatt friendly grin on his face now.

Tendou mirrored Hinata’s motion, an amused tilt to his lips “I’m more excited about One Piece.”

Hinata laughed “That goes without saying.”

This was by far the most surreal moment of Riseki’s life. He was watching his friend — who he knew was ridiculously personable — befriend the single most terrifying player in high school volleyball. Tendou apparently even gave Atsumu and Osamu the creeps. At least Riseki wasn’t alone. Semi looked to be just as baffled as Hinata and Tendou discussed their favorite One Piece characters, both of them swaying back and forth with lots of hand movements.

After another few minutes of watching Hinata and Tendou debate the qualities of something or someone named Zoro, Hinata flicked a glance over his shoulder, and gave Riseki a startled look, making Riseki jump a little.

“Ah, I’m sorry! I made my friend wait!” He whirled around, arms glued to his side as he dipped into another bow. Tendou and Semi just gave him a bemused look “Oh! I’m Hinata Shouyou by the way! This is my friend Riseki.” Riseki gave an awkward nod.

“This is Tendou, and you can call me Semi.” Fancy hair said with a small nod.

Hinata gave a wave and latched onto Riseki’s arm, starting to tug him through the crowd. Tendou cooed a “Bye-bye Hinata Shouyou~!” at their retreating backs.

After a moment Riseki found his breath enough to ask “You know who that was, right?”

“Tendou and Semi!” Hinata said brightly.

“Of Shiratorizawa...?” Given that Hinata just had a pleasant conversation with the guy, Riseki figured he ought not refer to the guy by his nickname.

Hinata stared up at him blankly for a second before his eyes bugged out, not bothering to temper his volume “All-Japan!?” People were once again staring at them. Kita wasn’t going to be pleased if Inarizaki ended up with a reputation for its rowdy first years.

Apparently Atsumu had come back from the All-Japan Youth Camp last December with stories, a lot of them featuring how good, but ultimately boring a person Ushijima Wakatoshi was. Atsumu referred to him as a volleyball robot. Hinata went the more polite route and started referring to THE Ushiwaka as ‘All-Japan’. Which had the dual effect of also pissing off Atsumu because he attended the camp too dammit. Riseki was 70% sure Hinata called Ushiwaka ‘All-Japan’ just to get a rise out of Atsumu.

Riseki shushed him, and finally, FINALLY, Riseki made it to the bathroom. After all of their dallying, even Hinata had to go. He finished much quicker than Riseki though, and as he was washing his hands, promised to wait for Riseki outside.

Riseki would have taken his dear sweet time, sorting through the interesting interaction he’d just witness Hinata have. But then he’d heard his friends’ over loud voice drift in from the doorway, opening and shutting behind people.

“Oh! You’re wearing Shiratorizawa colours. You must play with Tendou-san then?” Hinata’s cheery voice asked.

“Yes.” A much deeper, monotone voice responded.

Riseki laughed to himself silently. Hinata really could make friends with anyone, anywhere. It was amazing. He could hear the cadence of Hinata’s pattering through the closed door, cut off occasionally by a toilet flush or a sink’s running water. Riseki was just thinking about how it was funny that Hinata somehow managed to make friends with players from a team they’d likely be facing tomorrow on day two of the tournament, when his blood abruptly ran cold.

Riseki recognized that sharpness in Hinata’s tone. It usually signalled he was picking a fight. Or was mad as hell and was willing to throw down. Riseki wrapped up what he was doing, nearly shoving another player out of the way to get to the sink. The door swung open and he managed to hear Hinata’s distinct voice “-did you say?” in a snarl. Riseki cringed, rushing through drying his hands to push his way through the door.

Oh god Hinata was picking a fight with Ushiwaka.

His very little friend was glaring up up up, with that creepy still face thing that he sometimes got, at Japan’s number one ace, who looked back in placid coldness. Or maybe irritation. Or maybe indifference? Riseki had no idea what one of high school volleyball’s best players was thinking, but Riseki was pretty sure Hinata had no business getting in his face like that.

“I don’t understand metaphors much,” Hinata growled, never breaking eye contact with Ushijima “But I promise you this: We’re going to beat you tomorrow, proving there are lots of ways to be strong.” Oh god, Hinata was baring his teeth. Riseki felt his stomach drop out of his butt.

Ushijima’s eyes narrowed fractionally. At the same moment that Riseki clamped his still slightly damp hands on Hinata’s shoulders to drag him away, a loud gravelly voice called “Ushijima!” making the tall, nationally ranked, best ace in the country turn. Riseki took that chance to leverage his greater height and therefore weight to lug Hinata back towards their team.

Inarizaki was holed up in a hallway near the warmup gym, waiting for their turn before their match started in a little over an hour. Hinata’s shoulders never relaxed the entire time Riseki shoved his way through the crowd, and he was pretty sure he could hear his little friend grinding his teeth over the din of the crowd. Riseki only had getting back to the relative safety of their team on his mind, silently cursing Hinata and his damned fateful bathroom encounters. Christ, he’d always thought Hinata was exaggerating about them.

“Finally!” Atsumu complained at them, out of his track jacket and in a plain t-shirt. Hands on his hips as he scowled at them “How big of a shit didja have to take?”

“Our court time starts now, so get changed you two, make it snappy.” Aran tells them, walking by and looping a hand into Atsumu’s collar and tugging him into the gym. The reserve players flutter around gathering gear, cleaning as everyone gets changed.

Riseki notes with a tinge of anxiety Hinata’s silence, not even bothering to gape at the high ceilings of the gym like he had earlier at the opening ceremony. It isn’t two minutes into warmups before Osamu sidles up next to Riseki, lips pursed as he looks at Hinata passing a ball back and forth with Gin.

“What happened to Shouyou-kun?”

Riseki tenses, and then must look a bit guilty because Osamu zeroes in on him like he’s a meat bun after a grueling practice. Atsumu looks over from where he’s stretching out his wrists and shoulders, also looking absurdly intent. Casting a guilty look over at Hinata, Riseki tells them the cliff notes version of their Shiratorizawa encounter. He’ll hopefully get the full details out of Hinata later, about his argument with Ushiwaka.

By the end of it the twins have both kicked back their heads to laugh, startling half the team. Atsumu smacks Riseki on the shoulder, turning to look at Hinata “Shouyou-kun yer a fuckin’ menace. Pickin’ fights with Ushiwaka?”

Hinata catches the ball Gin just sent to him and turns to scowl at Atsumu “I wasn’t picking a fight.”

“Gutsy gutsy Shouyou-kun!” Osamu teases with a wide grin on his face.

“Who’s pickin’ fights?” Kita asks, leaning into their conversation. The twins immediately blanche, claiming they don’t know nothin’, getting back to their warm ups with heads down. Hinata returns to his passes with an almost angry focus. Kita just waits, staring expectantly at Riseki.

He rubs at the back of his neck “We uh, had an encounter with Shiratorizawa and Hinata had some strong words with Ushiwaka.”

Kita looks over curiously at Hinata “Do ya know what about?” Riseki shakes his head “Welp, no helpin’ it now. Hopefully he doesn’t lose focus for our game today.”

Riseki bites his lip. The expression Hinata was wearing wasn’t one of distracted frustration. No, he was wearing his deadly hyperfocus face. The one he got when he was really getting into the zone in the middle of a game. Atsumu might call it his ‘gimme a toss’ face.

Whatever Hinata and Ushijima had talked about must have really pissed him off. Riseki kinda pitied the first team they were up against if they had to deal with this version of Hinata.

“Shouyou-kun is being weird.”

Atsumu had his head tipped against the large shared soaking tub in the baths, his eyes squinting at the ceiling as Osamu says it. He purses his lips and flicks a look towards his brother, seated out of the bath washing his hair. He’s using their shared purple toning shampoo, giving the suds he’s working a borderline magenta hue. Atsumu briefly contemplates telling him he looks ridiculous. Across the bath from him, Suna snorts.

“What else is new?”

Atsumu feels no qualms about clipping the base of his palm into the water’s surface, kicking up a splash of hot water that nails Suna right in the face. Suna smirks, shaking his head like a dog, using both hands to part his hair in a facsimile of it’s usual style.

“Refreshing.” Suna says blandly.

Atsumu doesn’t even have the energy to rise to the bait. He played hard earlier today for their win, spending the rest of his afternoon darting between courts and gyms to watch at least one set of each of their potential upcoming opponents. He just didn’t have it in him to try dunking Suna into the water. This lack of resolve had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Suna had decidedly more upper body strength than him, and could probably drown him if Atsumu wasn’t careful.

He settles back into his spot, flicking his fingers along the water’s surface. “Shouyou-kun is fine.” Atsumu knows, because he saw to it himself. Osamu was just a worry wart.

“Yeah, he played really well today.” Gin had overheated and was sitting out of the tub, his feet kicking in the water, towel draped around his waist.

“Better than you two did at your first nationals.” Kosaku hummed in agreement from beside Osamu, lifting a hose to rinse his own hair. Osamu tossed a wet rag at him in defence of the wounded pride of the Miya brothers. “Gross, Osamu.”

Hinata had played well. Really well. In fact he’d kind of surprised Atsumu. No misplays. No hesitation. Just that determined burning in his eyes throughout the whole game. It had kinda freaked Atsumu out a bit at first. There had been no gleeful, almost surprised shouts when Hinata scored. No borderline electric vibration to his stance as he waited on defense. No nervous energy he needed to burn off before he got into the zone. His blocks had been clean and sharp, where usually it looked like Hinata was flinging himself at the net at the very last second in a hail mary of defense. It was like Hinata had turned on his supreme focus switch and somehow hadn’t managed to turn it off all game.

It had been cool as hell to watch.

Heck, in the second set when the opposing team was getting frustrated when it became obvious Inarizaki was going to wipe the floor with them, they’d started trash talking Hinata a bit. Aran had been ready to jump in to distract Hinata, like he usually did before Hinata could puff up indignantly—instead Hinata just stared at the asshole taunting him, his head tipped to the side and delivered a blunt, if confused “But you’re about to lose.”

Atsumu had given an uncontrolled laugh, even as he felt Kita’s glare from the sidelines. Suna thought it was hilarious too, funniest thing he’d ever seen on court, bemoaning that he didn’t have his phone on him. Akagi was the only with the mental acuity on the court to tell Hinata off for being a little shit. Osamu had given Atsumu a silent, concerned look, but Atsumu had shrugged him off. So what if Hinata was getting a bit spicy? The other team started it.

But Osamu wouldn’t let it go. Hinata certainly hadn’t been grumpy after their win — back to his usual cheerful smiles and easy laugh. Sure, it’d been a bit weird during warm ups when Hinata had been as close to surly as Atsumu ever saw him, but that attitude had translated into the sharpest, most focused play Atsumu had ever seen out of him. Why fix what ain’t broke?

Osamu had pulled Hinata aside, down a quiet hallway, so they could have a little ‘chat’ after their win. Atsumu knew better though, his brother was just angling for those juicy Ushiwaka details, which frankly, Atsumu was dying to know too. With little ceremony he plunked down on the bench Osamu had ushered Hinata onto, making a ‘Miya Sandwich’ as Akagi liked to call it. Which, first of all: gross. Second: That doesn’t even make sense it’s not like you called a sandwich a bread sandwich — the name was determined by filling. So it’d be a ‘Shouyou-kun Sandwich’, which was getting into weird territory that Atsumu would never share with Akagi anyways.

“Spill it.” Atsumu said, taking a swig of his water bottle, studiously ignoring Osamu’s unimpressed stare. Fuckin’ Osamu-Hinata heart to heart time bullshit, his ass! Atsumu was just as much Shouyou-kun’s friend too, just ‘cause Osamu was a mother hen about shit didn’t mean Atsumu didn’t care too. Even if he did think Osamu was overblowing his concern for Hinata, just a bit.

Hinata flicked a glance between them “Spill what?”

“I just wanna make sure yer doin’ okay Shouyou-kun.” Osamu said, still giving Atsumu those unimpressed eyes. Atsumu rolled his own and mouthed an ‘eat shit’ when Hinata’s back was turned.

“I’m doing great!” Hinata said with a grin “I think I played pretty great today, if I do say so myself.” He stuck his nose in the air a bit, his smile widening as he gave Atsumu a sly glance “Your tosses were on fire today, Atsumu-san.” Atsumu puffed up his chest a bit, giving his brother a smug smirk.

“Weren’t they just?”

“And Osamu-san! I think you wracked up the most service aces today, you were so cool.” Hinata gushed with a contented sigh. Osamu’s smug shitty little grin had Atsumu sucking his teeth, ‘cause whatever. His jump floaters were off today, so what, who cares?

“Thanks, Shouyou-kun. But that ain’t what I’m asking.” Hinata blinked, head tipping to the side as he looked at Osamu, “You seemed kinda pissy before the game...” He let his sentence trail off, signaling Hinata could do his usual thing where he occupied silences with his ramblings.

“Did I?” Hinata’s head swiveled to Atsumu, eyes wide with question.

Atsumu snorted, because Hinata was actually being genuine in his confusion, the little weirdo. “Yeah. Pissed as hell. Heisuke-kun said ya picked a fight with Ushiwaka?”

Osamu was giving him that flat look again. Atsumu shrugged his shoulders conveying ‘What? It’s better to be straightforward with him, ya drip’ — not that it looked like Osamu actually picked up on that. Osamu sighed “We just wanna make sure yer doin’ okay.”

Hinata’s face scrunched up, lower lip sticking out in his most immature expression “I didn’t pick a fight.” He grumbled impetuously, glowering at the wall across from their bench. Osamu and Atsumu shared a look over Hinata’s head, before Atsumu bumped his elbow into Hinata’s side.

Hinata tipped his head up and gave a gusty sigh “Ugh, I didn’t pick anything. He was rude and said something about,” Here Hinata reached his hands up and pushed his hair down, expression muting into a narrow eyed facsimile of Ushiwaka’s usual bland expression “‘Weaklings lowering the quality of a good team’” He let his expression relax and his hands whumped into his lap “So I told him we were gonna crush Shiratorizawa is all.”

“Hell yeah ya did.” Atsumu beamed, smacking him on the back. “Yer impressions are getting freaky good too.” And it was true, Hinata had slowly been perfecting his Suna impression, and just a few weeks ago he’d done a real good hollow eyed Kita stare for a solid minute. His Ushiwaka was spot the fuck on, even pitching his voice to that surprising low flat gruff Ushiwaka had.

Osamu rolled his eyes at Atsumu “That’s not the point.” He ignored Atsumu’s indignant ‘hey!’ “Ushiwaka called ya weak?”

Hinata’s face scrunched up again, kicking his legs out and staring at his toes “Sure,”

Atsumu was gonna go kick Ushiwaka’s ass. Just so long as he avoided that freaky left arm of his, Atsumu’s pretty sure he can take him. Bastard trying to bully Hinata. Japan’s number one ace didn’t seem the type for petty bullshit like that, but fuck him if Ushiwaka thought he could get away with making Hinata feel shitty.

“But it doesn’t matter what he thinks. I’m not weak, and even if I was, I have you guys.” Hinata tipped his chin up defiantly, ready to fight anyone who said otherwise.

Atsumu’s grin is vicious and wide “Fuckin’ rights ya do!” Atsumu gives his brother a triumphant look, Osamu still looking a little dubious, but Atsumu doesn’t give a shit “Shouyou-kun, didn’tcha say ya wanted to check the t-shirt stalls? I’ll go with ya.” Hinata gives him a grin, popping to his feet.

“I just have to go grab my wallet, I’ll be right back.” Hinata says with a grin “Thanks for the talk Osamu-san. I appreciate you looking out for me!” And then he’s off, making a beeline towards the hallway Inarizaki had taken over. Atsumu watches him go, with a satisfied smile at a job well done on his face. He chances a glance over at his brother to see—

Osamu is glaring at him.

“What?”

“Sometimes yer an idiot.” Osamu pushes to a stand, stuffing his hands in his pockets “I’m gonna go get something to eat.”

“He’s fine ‘Samu, he said so himself. He’d tell us otherwise.”

“Shouyou-kun ain’t so simple, ya drip.”

Atsumu fucking hated when Osamu implied he knew Hinata BETTER than Atsumu, like just ‘cause he and Hinata spoke best through volleyball that meant there was less value in it, than lazy meandering conversations about food. Or like Osamu cared more about Hinata. Fuck that. Atsumu might die if he never got to toss for Hinata again — Osamu just didn’t understand. Atsumu and Hinata had been talking about all the cool shit they’d try and all the good teams they'd play for months. Hinata wasn’t going to underestimate nationals. He knew better. Besides, everyone was allowed to be a bit squirrely at their first tournament. He and Osamu sure as hell had been back in middle school.

“He ain’t some baby ya need to coddle, ya fuckin’ weirdo. Go play mother hen to Heisuke-kun, he’d appreciate it more.” Atsumu scoffed, waving his hand dismissively.

Osamu only rolled his eyes, slouching down the hallway as Hinata ripped around the corner, skidding a little, his adorable little coin purse clutched in his hands. Sometimes Shouyou-kun was like a granny, the endearing little shit. Grinning, Atsumu turned and waved for Hinata to follow him.

Hinata wouldn’t be held to Atsumu’s more sedate pace though. As soon as they hit the throngs of crowds in the concourse, Hinata was darting through people, finding small openings like a tiny little ninja to make his way forward. Rolling his eyes, Atsumu plodded after him, contemplating what games he ought to go check out after their little shopping trip. The shirt vendor was on the way to the spare gym where Fukurodani was playing and Atsumu really wanted to check out how Bokuto’s “condition” was so far in the tournament. It was as he was rounding the corner where the vendors were spread out that a hand scrunched into the fabric at the back of his track jacket, pulling him to a stop.

Atsumu, jaw set, ready to cuss out someone with an obvious deathwish, slowly turned to find a gloved hand attached to an asshole glaring at him from behind a facemask.

“The fuck do ya want?”

Sakusa’s eyes narrowed fractionally. He finally retracted his hand so Atsumu could at least fully turn to face him, crossing his arms expectantly. Sakusa was doing that creepy staring thing he did, like he was trying to read Atsumu like a book. Did that with everyone with the exception of Komori and his precious Wakatoshi-kun. One of the quiet highlights from the All-Japan youth camps for Atsumu had been getting to witness the Sakusa version of mooning at Ushiwaka. Atsumu may not like Sakusa very much, but sometimes he was kinda funny to watch.

Sakusa lifted his gloved hand and pointed a finger at something over Atsumu’s shoulder, eyes never leaving Atsumu’s face. This guy was super freaking weird. “What is that?”

Atsumu turned to look at where he was pointing to Hinata had finally made it to his t-shirt vendor... and was that Hoshiumi? Were they talkin’? After meeting him last December, Atsumu had wondered if maybe Hoshiumi might get along with Hinata. Hoshiumi was a prickly little shit, but he was also energetic and kinda funny. Like an angrier, more uptight version of Hinata. Atsumu maybe had a few visions of a manzai comedy duo with Hinata as the boke and Hoshiumi as the straight man. They could do volleyball jokes. It’d be hilarious.

He was letting himself get distracted. Atsumu flicked a look back at Sakusa, who’s brows had knit further together as he started losing patience. “Huh?”

Sakusa clicked his tongue. Oh how Atsumu loved to get on his nerves, feeling a mean little smile starting to tug at his lips. Sakusa stabbed his finger forward again. “It picked a fight with Wakatoshi-kun.”

Atsumu blinked, realization dawning, and then indignant offense bloomed in his chest. He glowered at Sakusa “HE, is called Shouyou-kun. And if let’s say he did pick a fight, Ushiwaka probably deserved it.” Atsumu was pretty resolute about that fact. Aside from how pleased he’d been to learn that his Hinata had the stones to pick a fight with the best ace in the country, Atsumu had it from the horse’s mouth himself: Ushiwaka was a rude fuck who’d called Hinata weak, so of course he had free license to shit talk Mr. All-Japan himself. Hinata was a kind and thoughtful person who cared too much about other people’s feelings. He wouldn’t say something nasty to someone for no reason.

Though there had been that moment in their game earlier... Whatever, Atsumu knew for sure that Hinata was fully in his right to call Ushiwaka out on his shit. Not that Ushijima had ever seemed particularly dickish. Just blunt and matter of fact. And volleyball obsessed and a little boring. But still! Fucking no way Atsumu would ever side with Ushiwaka over Shouyou-kun. No way.

Sakusa bristled “You’re fine with it disrespecting someone of superior talents?”

“He’s a him, ya dick.” Atsumu said icily, “And if yer not careful he’s gonna deliver an ass kickin’ to Itachiyama’s sorry asses.” It’s what Atsumu had been dreaming of since this time last year. And oh was it going to be sweet.

Atsumu got the distinct impression that behind Sakusa’s mask, his lips were curling into a sneer. “You’ll need to beat Wakatoshi-kun first.” His tone implied he was very doubtful of Inarizaki’s chances of that.

Atsumu put on his most toothy and pleasant smile “Oh Omi-kun. I want ya to make sure ya take a picture of yer face after we wipe the floor with Shiratorizawa tomorrow. I betcha look awfully pretty when ya cry.” And then as the icing on the cake he gave Sakusa a salacious wink. This earned him a disgusted noise as Sakusa heel turned and skirted the crowd away from him, off to go lurk somewhere like the creep that he was. Who gave a shit. What an asshole.

Satisfied, Atsumu made his way over to where Hinata was wrapping up his conversation with Hoshiumi and... was that Hirugami? Couldn’t be. This fluffy haired dude had a relaxed, patronizing smile on his face. Way too chill. “Hey Kourai-kun, seeya met Shouyou-kun finally, eh?”

Hoshiumi stopped, turned, blinked and then nodded his head sharply once. Now this here was a dude who could really use loosening up. “Hey Miya. Yeah, we were just talking—”

“Kourai-kun, I said we have to go.” And without waiting for a reply, Hirugami gave Atsumu a pleasant smile and a finger wave, before grabbing the back of Hoshiumi’s jacket and tugging him away.

Atsumu turned to look down at Hinata “Seeya met Kourai-kun finally—” Hinata was practically glittering up at him. Atsumu blinked.

“You didn’t tell me he was so cool!” Hinata said too fast, his cheeks flushed and his grin going wide. Atsumu felt his brow pinch. Hoshiumi was just alright, no need for so much excitement.

He’d told Hinata about Hoshiumi after he’d returned from the All-Japan camp in December, ready with his war stories and snide comments for his favorite audience of one. Hinata had been extra interested in the fact that someone under 170cm wasn’t a libero — eager for as many details about Hoshiumi as Atsumu could remember. In the two All-Japan camps he’d attended since then, Atsumu had gone out of his way to try and befriend Hoshiumi, for Hinata’s sake. Learn more about what made another little giant tick and all that.

Guess meeting the guy was beyond comparison though, because Hinata’s eyes were practically shining at him “And he’s only 1cm taller than me!”

Atsumu snorted “Oh, so now we’re allowed to round to the furthest whole number?” Hinata threw him a betrayed look, but that did nothing to dampen the excitement vibrating through him.

“1.7cm, fine!” He beamed up at Atsumu “We might play them on the third day, are you planning on going to watch their game later? Can I come?” He asked in a single breath, almost bouncing on his toes.

Now this is a sight for sore eyes. Atsumu doesn’t think he’s seen Hinata this excited since just after he’d officially joined Inarizaki, trying to temper his enthusiasm to fit in with the ‘cool and aloof’ vibe their team gave off. It had been a long while since Hinata had allowed himself to bounce and practically sparkle at the people around him. He was still effusive with his compliments, he just wasn’t as loud and unrestrained in his excitement anymore. Atsumu could honestly say he missed it.

Letting out a half fond sigh of exasperation, masking how pleased he was, Atsumu shrugged “Fine, but on the condition ya buy me a meat bun later.”

Hinata held up a finger, grin a little impish “Only one!”

“Stingy, stingy Shouyou-kun” Atsumu grumbled with a grin, swinging an arm around Hinata’s neck, laughing at his embarrassed squawks as they made their way towards the Fukurodani game.

He ignored the stares of the players around them, the Inarizaki red tended to attract notice—it probably didn’t help Hinata was wrestling to get himself free—dragging Hinata towards the gymnasium where Fukurodani was playing. Atsumu wanted to see how Fukurodani’s setter was developing. He seemed like a calculating type of guy, and Atsumu was always happy to learn from those around him.

“Y’ever hear about Bokuto from Fukurodani?”

Finally dislodging Atsumu’s arm, Hinata rocked forward on his toes to watch the game in its second set, peering over people’s shoulders “No, I-” Hinata cut himself off with a gasp as Bokuto leapt into the air, triumphant grin on his face, arm reeling back, triple block committed—and then the ball was there until it wasn’t, Bokuto managing to thread the hairline crack in defense to blast the ball through.

When he landed Bokuto roared his signature “Hey! Hey! Hey!” at his team, clapping his setter on the shoulder. Looks like Fukurodani Setter-kun was actually pretty good, ballsy too. And Bokuto was in top form. Hopefully that wouldn’t last through the whole damn tournament.

Atsumu tipped his head towards Hinata “That’s Bokuto-” And then blinked when he realized Hinata wasn’t standing beside him anymore. Peering through the crowd he found Hinata leaning forward on the barrier, his eyes shinning as he watched Fukurodani serve. Usually Hinata only had smiles and eyes like that for Aran—Oh man, Aran was going to be so jealous when he found out Hinata had a new hero.

Atsumu approached and nudged him with an elbow. Hinata turned his head without taking his eye off the ball “Don’t run off Shouyou-kun.” Hinata hummed in acknowledgement “That’s Bokuto, and he’s a real big pain when he’s on.”

“On?”

Another triple block went up and Bokuto actually honest to goodness shrugged in mid air, tapping the ball off the block in a rebound—sneaky bastard, resetting their offense. Hinata gasped dramatically again, a delighted grin on his face. Atsumu leaned in close, letting his voice go low. “Bokuto is really good but has real shaky mental fortitude. I once heard him say that he forgot how to do cross shots in the middle of a game, after nailin’ ‘em all in the first set.”

Hinata watched the play continue for a moment, Atsumu not entirely sure he’d even been listened to, a middle blocker dinked the ball over the defense — another point for Fukurodani. Hinata blinked up at him owlishly “So he lacks confidence sometimes?”

“Or he’s a nut.” Atsumu responded flatly. He’d kill a player who abruptly started whining on the court for no good reason. Hinata elbowed him in the gut, giving him a disapproving frown. “What? I’m not allowed to talk shit about other teams now?”

“That was about one player in particular Atsumu-san.” Why did he sound like a disappointed school teacher? Atsumu had been letting him hang out too much with Kita, Hinata was picking up bad habits.

A ball was coming flying off the court off a block and it was going to nail the photographer standing next to Hinata, camera out. Before the ball could connect, Hinata stretched out an arm—catching the ball in his left hand with a WHAP, completely stopping it’s motion. The photographer gave Hinata a startled “Thank you?”

“Woah! Quick hands little guy!” Bokuto came jogging over, a wide grin on his face as he held his hands out for the ball. His eyes bugged out a bit as he caught sight of the Inarizaki jackets “INARIZAKI HANDS!”

Hinata just looked like a starry eyed youth meeting his idol. He held out the ball, his mouth hanging open a bit stupidly—which really, was not representing their team very well. Atsumu had been very clear before the qualifiers in Hyougo: Inarizaki strives to give off a cool and aloof vibe Shouyou-kun! ...Maybe Atsumu had a sliiiight hand in Hinata trying to temper his excitement since joining the team. Damn.

Bokuto plucked the ball out of his hands with a grin and Hinata blurted a “You’re so amazing Bokuto-san!”

Bokuto’s grin just got impossibly wider as he beamed “Thanks!” and turned back to finish out his game. On his next successful spike he yucked it up for the crowd a bit, grinning like a loon, before turning to where Atsumu and Hinata were still standing, giving Hinata a finger gun and a wink.

Hinata dramatically pressed a hand to his chest, his cheeks flushed as he grinned stupidly back. Atsumu sucked on his teeth “Alright, we’ve seen enough. They got this in the bag. Let’s go check out Mujinazaka.” He tugged on the back of Hinata’s track jacket, feeling a bit peevish at the disappointed hum Hinata gave him. Was he going to moon over every ace they saw? Jeez.

Bokuto ended up having the most significant impact on Hinata—which was kinda funny really. Kiryuu was universally acknowledged as better “But I’m not that strong Atsumu-san.” and Sakusa had greater dimension to his play and ability “My wrists can’t do that though.” Hinata explained flapping his wrist to demonstrate its lack of super flexibility. No other ace left nearly as many stars in Hinata’s eyes as Bokuto had. When pressed, he’d just shrugged with a dreamy smile on his face “He just looks like he’s having so much fun.” Which. Okay?

The only other player that seemed to have made as strong an impression on Hinata in the end was Hoshiumi, who — well damned if he wasn’t absolutely incredible, nested in the strength and steadiness of Kamomedai. Hoshiumi might be a true jack of all trades, excelling at nearly all areas of volleyball. Even Atsumu, as demanding as he was, had been reasonably impressed with Hoshiumi’s setting abilities back at camp.

They’d grabbed seats for this game—the last one on Atsumu’s list before they had to get back to the team, managing to make it in time for the end of the first set. Hinata leaned forward the whole time, propping his head in his hands as he watched with rapt attention. Hoshiumi was in absolute top form. Hirugami, and it was the same Hirugami from middle school, might be one of the best blockers Atsumu had ever encountered. Their two meters dude was a bit shaky though. That’d be an easy exploit there.

Hoshiumi made a receive, clean to the setter in an a-pass (goddamn), and then was digging his toes into the court, blasting towards the net. As Hoshiumi rocketed forward, at his side Hinata shifted upwards in his seat, eyes widening, watching Hoshiumi kick off the floor and sail horrifyingly high — tooling the block in front of him with a smirk. First set goes to Kamomedai.

Atsumu glanced at Hinata to find him sitting up straight, eyes burning with that determined fire, a peculiar smile on his face. “Atsumu-san?”

“Yeah?”

“I wanna do that too.”

Atsumu bumped their shoulders together, making Hinata look at him, giving his friend a particularly wicked grin “Shouyou-kun, there ain’t anything you can’t do on the court, so long as I’m there.”

Hinata stared at him a beat longer, before his smile bloomed in full, eyes crinkling as he turned back to the game in front of them “Yeah.” He settled back in his chair “Make sure you can still toss to me when I figure out how to jump like that.”

Atsumu gave a startled bark of laughter, prodding Hinata sharply in the shoulder “Greedy shit.” He couldn’t keep the smile off his face “You figure out how to jump like that, and I ain’t ever gonna stop tossin’ to ya.”

For this Hinata tore his eyes away from the game, a pleased smile on his face as he looked Atsumu in the eye “Good.”

That excited wiggly feeling rolled in his chest. He’d begun to associate it with tossing for Hinata, when they tried something new. Anticipation, Hinata, Volleyball. Best feeling in the world.

Hinata was fine, no matter what Osamu said. It was obvious to anyone who knew him. And no one spoke volleyball quite like Atsumu and Hinata did.

A purple shampoo bottle beaned Atsumu in the back of the head, snapping him from his reverie. He turned in the water to scowl as his shitty brother “The fuck was that for?”

“Quit daydreaming ya drip. Yer gonna get all pruney.” Osamu said in his usual bored tone.

Atsumu lifted up from the water, snapping his towel around his waist as he did so “Okay ‘Ma. Want me to wash extra good behind my ears too?”

“If yer not gonna without me saying so, yer just as bad as Michi-kun.” Osamu said dryly, making for the door.

After dumping an excessively large palmful of purple shampoo into his hand, Atsumu tomahawked the bottle, nailing Osamu in the lower back as he was exiting the baths. Osamu poked his head back inside to glower at him.

“This needs to last us four more days dipshit, don’t use so much.”

Atsumu only stuck his tongue out at him as he lathered up his hair. He bet he could pull magenta off waaaay better than Osamu. He started humming tunelessly to himself, imagining all the cool as hell plays they were gonna lob at Ushiwaka tomorrow, getting the bastard back for trying to make Hinata feel weak.

Little did that stoic bastard know, Hinata was one of the strongest people at Inarizaki. Yep, it was about time to show the world.

Chapter Text

Aran waits until the second years have returned from their bath, first years tripping out of the room to finally take their turn, in order to pounce. He’d in particular wanted Hinata out of the room before he grabbed Atsumu, so he could ask his very pressing question.

Tugging Atsumu out into the hallway and down the stairs, Aran doesn’t let his tank top go until they’re standing in the well air conditioned lobby. Atsumu smoothes out his shirt and fiddles with his still damp hair, giving Aran a squint “Ya wanna tell me what’s going on Aran-kun?”

Atsumu doesn’t even know what he’s done, how irreverent can one pest be? Aran crosses his arms, staring Atsumu in the eye. It has been endlessly annoying ever since Atsumu and Osamu had rounded out their growth spurts, sitting only one unsettling centimeter shorter than Aran now. He misses the days when he used to be able to look down at them. Surely they must have listened better back then?

A tiny voice in the back of Aran’s skull whispers that no, they absolutely did not.

Atsumu shifts, eyes narrowing in suspicion “I didn’t do it.”

Aran blinks “Didn’t do what?”

“Whatever yer about to scold me for.”

Aran stares at him a moment before he sighs. “I wasn’t going to scold you.”

“Yer wearing the scolding face.”

“There’s no face.”

“Yeah, uhuh, yer doin’ it right now.”

“Atsumu—”

“I didn’t do it!” The petulant whine rings through the lobby. Atsumu scrunches up his face, his cheeks going a bit pink as the receptionist peeks out over the desk at them. They both wave in apology.

“I’m not mad at you Atsumu—” Aran tries to begin, holding up a hand indicating peace.

Atsumu looks stricken “But yer just disappointed!?”

Pressing the heel of his palm into his forehead, Aran feels an all too familiar tension headache start to build behind his eyes. Weren’t the twins supposed to be easier to deal with when you caught one of them alone? “Look, I just wanted to ask you something.”

Atsumu gives him a cagey look, eyes darting around the lobby, assessing escape routes.

Aran presses his lips together in annoyance “Am I really that scary?”

Atsumu blinks, rocking back on his heels “No?”

Aran opens his mouth to ask what exactly Atsumu thinks he’s doing, but figures it’s best just to plough through the conversation—then he can crawl into his futon and sleep and tomorrow will be a new day. Hopefully a better day. He pulls in a deep breath and lets his shoulders droop. Aran eyes a sign pasted to the far wall advertising a fireworks festival coming up in a few weeks, feeling awkward about meeting Atsumu in the eye all of a sudden.

“You took Shouyou to watch Fukurodani.”

Atsumu tilts his head “Yeah.”

“And he met Bokuto.”

Atsumu narrows his eyes “I don’t hear a question.”

Aran gives him a flat look, as if Atsumu of all people is entitled to being impatient “It seems like Shouyou really liked Bokuto.” Aran says lightly, searching Atsumu’s face.

Atsumu shrugs “Shouyou-kun likes any talented volleyball player. Especially spikers.”

Did Aran really have to say it out loud? Atsumu was going to make him say it, wasn’t he? Out of malice or obliviousness didn’t matter, the end result was the same. Heaving a pained sigh, Aran looks off to the side “Shouyou was watching an awful lot of Fukurodani videos earlier, he thinks Bokuto is the coolest ace he’s ever seen...”

Watching Hinata stare enraptured at the tablet he’d borrowed from Coach Oomi to watch old Fukurodani game tape had stung just a bit. Especially after Riseki sidled up and asked Hinata what he was doing while the first years waited for their turn in the baths. Hinata had looked up at Riseki with wide eyes and said “This is Bokuto! He’s the coolest ace I’ve ever seen.”

Across the room Akagi had given Aran a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, muttering something about “Top anime betrayals.” Aran sat on his futon in shell shocked silence, waiting for a qualifier to come only to find none. Just Hinata quietly watching more video until Coach had come back for his tablet. Up until that moment Aran had been operating under the illusion that he was the coolest ace Hinata had ever met.

Aran had politely inquired as to how Hinata had seen Bokuto play, revealing that it was Atsumu and his stupid need to go suss out future opponents that resulted in Aran’s world being shattered. Or at least his ego being bruised. Aran had done an admirable job putting a stranglehold on the resentment bubbling in his chest, waiting for Atsumu to return so he could unleash his fury. Or at the very least ask why Atsumu had done this to him.

But faced with Atsumu now, that seemed kind of silly. Aran wasn’t even one of the top three aces in the country — of course there were cooler aces than him. It just kind of stung that it was Bokuto who stole Hinata’s admiration from him. Aran had no ill will for the guy, quite the contrary; Bokuto seemed nice, in a loud boisterous kind of way. It’s just, the two of them were constantly compared to each other, and Bokuto was such a flighty and inconsistent player, it really grabbed Aran’s goat that they were viewed on equal footing, when Bokuto regularly complained he ‘forgot how to do line shots’ in the middle of a game.

And Hinata had been Aran’s biggest fan up until this afternoon.

Atsumu stared at him blankly for a minute, before Aran watched realization bloom across his features. “Holy crap! Are you jealous?”

Aran slapped his hand over Atsumu’s mouth, glowering at his friend. The receptionist was looking at them again. “Shush! And no! Maybe! Kind of?” Aran shook his head trying to explain, before whipping his hand away, feeling Atsumu’s tongue wipe an awful wet smudge into his palm. Atsumu had his shit eating grin on his face “Gross. It doesn’t even matter. It’s fine.”

“Y’know it’s fine if yer not fine Aran-kun.” Atsumu said lightly, wiping at his mouth.

Aran scrunched up his nose, glaring down at the tile of the lobby “I’m fine, really. I was just surprised is all.” He’d be good after a night's rest. He’d been a solid player before he met Hinata Shouyou, he’d still be solid tomorrow, even if Hinata no longer thought he hung the moon.

Atsumu was giving him a superior little smirk which made Aran want to flick his forehead “Y’know Shouyou-kun is just excited he’s getting to see so many new players.” Atsumu gave a lazy shrug “And Bokuto is kinda energetic like he is, probably looks at him and thinks ‘yeah! I’ll be like him someday!’”

Aran pursed his lips, listening.

“But that doesn’t change the relationship a spiker has with his own ace — gotta have someone to look up to, who ya know ya can rely on, right?” Atsumu’s grin was probably aiming for comfort, but it looked a bit too patronizing for Aran’s taste.

“Yeah, I know.”

Atsumu raised his hand to wave dismissively in the air “Besides, ya don’t need to worry, I’d rather have all my fingers fall off, than have to toss for Bokuto over you Aran-kun.” He looked surprised by his own admission.

Aran blinked, touched “Really?”

Atsumu’s brow pinched as he looked down at his fingers “Well... No,” Aran gave him an unimpressed look. “But! I still love setting for ya everyday. You’re my favorite wing spiker.”

Aran lifted a skeptical brow “I’m pretty sure that’s Shouyou.”

Atsumu grimaced “Well...” Aran only snorted at him.

“Atsumu, you’re really bad at comforting people, you know?” Atsumu stuck out his lower lip at him. Aran huffed a laugh, patting him on the shoulder “Still, thanks. It helped.”

Atsumu perked up “Really?”

Aran gave him a sidelong look as they turned to walk back up the stairs “Well...”

“Aran-kun, yer killin’ me! I tried so hard!”

Aran only laughed, waving him off. Time for a good night’s rest. They had a hard battle in front of them tomorrow.

For the first time in his life upon meeting someone new, Ushijima was recognized not as Ushiwaka the volleyball player, All-Japan ace, Shiratorizawa’s best player; but merely as Tendou’s friend. It was... refreshing.

He stared down at the incongruously small boy, looking up at him in excitement not because of who he was, but because of the person they had in common. Ushijima hadn’t known Tendou had friends outside of the team, but it was welcome information. Perhaps a humorous coincidence to run into this person outside the bathroom. He believes the term is ‘meet cute’? Ushijima would ask Tendou later.

“You know Tendou?” Ushijima asks, feeling genuinely curious. He had no idea how Tendou could have met someone from Inarizaki, especially someone who looked like a first year. He must be wearing a child size Inarizaki red track suit, surely. Perhaps Inarizaki was allowing equipment managers to join the team now? Surprising that they would need one — like Shiratorizawa they always had many reserve players to fill that role.

The boy’s eyes glinted in excitement, his smile stretching wider on his face “Yeah! Well, I just ran into him,” Here his cheeks flushed and he rubbed at the back of his neck. Ushijima didn’t understand, so he continued to listen. “But we just talked about the new Jump that came out. I’m super jealous that he already managed to find one. My captain won’t let me run out to a konbini on my own while we’re here.”

Ushijima blinked. If he recalled Inarizaki’s captain was now Kita Shinsuke — an unremarkable player who Ushijima had never played against by virtue of him never stepping on the court. An unsuitable lack of experience for the captain of one of the country’s best teams. The boy was still talking.

“We talked a bunch about One Piece, but I’ve been really enjoying Gintama lately too-” The boy paused, seeming to realize he’d been rambling and gave Ushijima an apologetic smile “Sorry, sometimes I get carried away talking. Do you read Jump too?”

“It’s no trouble.” Because it wasn’t. Ushijima was used to the people around him doing most of the talking while he interjected when he felt he had something to contribute. “Tendou lends me his old issues — I have read some.”

The excited glint in the boy’s eyes was back, and he wiggled in place a bit “What’s your favorite?”

Ushijima blinked and tipped his head upwards, thinking. In the most recent issue Tendou had given him there had been a tantalizing looking ad “The Sumo pork curry advertisement.” He said. The images had occupied his thoughts during the following Shiratorizawa practice, frustrating him at the distraction. Tendou had swept in afterwards and dragged him out to a curry restaurant so he could stop fantasizing about the potential of curry in his future.

The boy stared up at him blankly for a moment “Advertisement?”

“Yes.”

“For pork curry?”

“Yes. Sumo pork curry.” Ushijima briefly wished he had that copy of the magazine to show the boy. Perhaps it would make more sense if he had a visual aid.

The boy rubbed at his chin, considering “That does sound awfully good.” Ushijima gave him a sharp nod. It was. The boy’s eyes lit up, a grin splitting his face once again “Have you ever heard about Food Wars?”

Ushijima hadn’t, but by his description it sounded awfully intriguing. The boy emphasized how beautifully all the food was drawn and how it always made him hungry to look at it. Ushijima made a mental note to ask Tendou about it later — it sounded interesting. Finally, after another few minutes of chatter about food and food based ads in Jump, Ushijima finally learned the boy’s name.

“Ah! Sorry, I always get caught up in talking. I’m Hinata Shouyou,” He bobbed into a low bow “Wing Spiker for Inarizaki High!”

Not a libero? Ushijima blinked in surprise, but returned a much shallower bow on autopilot in return “Ushijima Wakatoshi of Shiratorizawa Academy.”

Ushijima didn’t have a chance to ruminate on what Hinata had just said about being a wing spiker, distracted instead by the full body realization Hinata was having about who he’d been talking to. Ushijima wondered how an apparent player for Inarizaki, which still seemed so incongruous to him given Hinata’s size, wasn’t able to recognize Ushijima on sight. Perhaps Ushijima hadn’t left a significant impression on Miya Atsumu when they met last year, or at successive youth national camps?

Hinata’s eyes bugged out and his mouth popped open and his hands fluttered at his sides. Ushijima briefly wondered if he was going to faint — he certainly looked feeble enough. Hinata licked his lips “You- Ah- Japan- You’re, Ushi-” His face was flushing.

Figuring a coherent question wasn’t likely, Ushijima chose to sate his curiosity “You are a wing spiker for Inarizaki?”

That snapped Hinata out of his stupor. He took a big shuddering breath, squaring his shoulders, he beamed “Yup!”

Ushijima narrowed his eyes slightly, rolling that information over in his head “Surely you are a reserve player.” One of the many players Inarizaki, similar to Shiratorizawa, kept off the court but invited to practice anyways, bolstering their numbers. Odd that he would describe himself as a wing spiker if that were the case. It might lead to confusion like what Ushijima had just experienced.

Hinata stared at him curiously, shaking his head “No, I’m on the team. I’m number ten.” He placed a hand on his chest, over an imagined number.

Had Inarizaki been brought so low so quickly? It was just a few months ago during Spring Nationals that they’d managed top four in the country. They may have lost the few third years who’d graduated in the spring, but the anchors for their team are second years now. The Miya twins, the lazy middle blocker, and for new third years Ojiro, their libero and Omimi. Ushijima had always been impressed by the depth of the Inarizaki bench — how exactly had this boy made it onto the team?

“A pinch server?” Ushijima asked, needing to understand.

Hinata stared up at him blankly for a moment before he gave an awkward little laugh. “Oh no, I’m still working on my serves.” He gave a small sheepish smile as he rubbed at the back of his head “No, I’m a starter, the only first year to start this year.” He announced proudly.

Ushijima usually had very little patience for boasting, but he couldn’t find the will to be offended, so struck by the information that this tiny fragile creature in front of him apparently started for Inarizaki. One of the best teams in the nation. Brought low by a little boy.

“A symptom of your weak captain?” He mused out loud. To his knowledge Inarizaki still had the same coaching staff, so he had no idea how these changes had happened so dramatically and so quickly. He had heard once of nepotism infecting and ruining otherwise solid volleyball programs. Given Inarizaki’s long history of success he was surprised that they would succumb to such things after so many fruitful years.

Hinata tilted his head in confusion “Huh?”

Ushijima stared down at the boy, taking in his small hands, the drape of his track jacket over narrow shoulders, his height — he was shorter than every other player at the tournament surely, even the liberos. Why was he here? How was he here?

“To succeed in volleyball one must be strong — strength is measured in the power of spikes, the height of blocks, the stability of receives.” In front of him Hinata was still staring at him in confusion, but he nodded his head in agreement. Ushijima continued “Inarizaki has always been strong,” That earned him a proud smile from Hinata.

“But looking at the state of your team now, I no longer believe that’s the case.” Ushijima finished solemnly, saying what he felt must be true. “To have allowed weakness onto the main roster, and a captain who doesn’t even play is an unfortunate symptom.” It was a pity. Ushijima had looked forward to the challenge Inarizaki would have undoubtedly presented the following day. That no longer appeared to be the case.

Hinata looked like he’d been struck, his eyes going wide as he stared back at him in surprise. Ushijima would give the boy this, he certainly made eye contact well. Something in Hinata’s countenance shifted — what had once been a bright and energetic little creature, constantly in motion, had gone completely still, his wide eyes sharpening into something reminiscent of a predator.

“What did you say?”

Ushijima blinked. Staring back into the cold eyes of Hinata Shouyou, he wonders if it had been mere moments ago that they had discussed food adverts. Perhaps he hadn’t been clear? “If Inarizaki is to be strong, it needs strong leadership to help guide it forward — something a player who sits on the bench won’t be able to offer.”

Hinata sucked in a rattling breath, taking a slow half step forward as he continued to glare up into Ushijima’s eyes “You’re talking about Kita-senpai, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

Hinata clenched his fists at his sides “And I’m guessing you think I’m weak too, huh?”

The stillness in Hinata’s face was beginning to become unnerving. Only talking to him for a few minutes, Ushijima was confident that this wasn’t a natural state for the boy. “You are small. Height is necessary for success in volleyball. For power when spiking.” Hinata teeth were clenched in a grimace, it brought to mind a feral animal baring its teeth “Weakness is poison in the ground of Inarizaki, a feebleness in a former strength well honed. If we should play tomorrow, I am confident that we will win now.”

Hinata took another step forward, now within arms reach of Ushijima as his perfectly still face belied the burning fire in his eyes. The bathroom door clattered open next to them, Ushijima caught another flash of red out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off the small beast in front of him.

“I don’t understand metaphors much,” Hinata growled through his teeth, eyes burning with a challenging rage “But I promise you this: We’re going to beat you tomorrow, proving there are lots of ways to be strong.”

Ushijima almost found himself taking a step back. He breathed in sharply through his nose, unable to understand how this creature in front of him didn’t understand. To say something so wrong, to believe himself right. He grit his teeth, wishing for words that could make Hinata understand, and put him into his proper place — he was weak, he must know it. How could he not?

“Ushijima!” Coach Washijou snapped at him from somewhere behind him. Startled, he jerked and turned to find the rest of his team waiting for him, his coach looking impatient. Ushijima chanced a glance back at Hinata, feeling in his bones it was foolish to take his eyes off a creature that seemed so dangerous, only to find Hinata gone.

He rejoined his team, ruminating on the interaction. Tendou poked his head into his line of sight “You okay Wakatoshi-kun? You look kinda grumpy.”

Ushijima blinked, staring a bit bemused at his friend, before he jerked his head in a nod, agreeing with the latter statement “Yes.”

Tendou’s mouth curled upwards, even as his brows tilted in concern “Wanna talk about it?”

“I met Hinata Shouyou.”

“Ah! You met the brand new fennec fox!” Tendou gave him an open mouthed smile, apparently eager to talk about his new friend. “Doesn’t he make you want to squish his cheeks until they burst?”

Ushijima tipped his head up to scan the ceiling, thinking. That was not the feeling Hinata Shouyou engendered in him “No.” Tendou cocked his head at an impossible angle, eyebrows scaling high on his forehead “He is arrogant.”

Tendou tutted at him, waving a hand like Ushijima sees aunties do at the store while they gossip “Part of his charm.” Tendou’s eyes narrowed into slits as he pressed his face forward, nose close to Ushijima's own, minty breath fanning over his face “He upset you, huh?”

Ushijima frowned, trying to find the words to describe the feelings the angry little monster had instilled in him. “Perhaps.”

Tendou clapped a hand on his shoulder “If it helps, I’ll be sure to give Fennec-kun nightmares tomorrow when we play them.” He gave Ushijhima a gleaming smile and a thumbs up.

Ushijima merely hummed, choosing to shelve his concerns for now. They had a game to win after all. Thoughts of Inarizaki and Hinata Shouyou could come later, if his weak team even made it past the first round.

~~~

Walking out onto the court for their match against Inarizaki the next day, Ushijima was finally able to name the feeling he had regarding Hinata Shouyou. Watching Hinata leap into the air for his warm up — far higher than someone his size had any right to, nailing a spike straight down, and then making pompous eye contact with Ushijima as he hit the floor, it finally dawned on him what he wanted.

Ushijima wished to crush Hinata Shouyou, to put him in his place as he deserved. To set right truth and reality when it came to the angry monster standing across the net from him.

He wanted nothing more than to beat Hinata Shouyou, to make sure he’d lose. .

And Atsumu had thought Hinata was intense yesterday. Yeesh.

From the moment they stepped out onto the court, Hinata had practically vibrated with a tension that was hard for Atsumu to name. It wasn’t like Hinata was anxious — no mysterious stomach troubles today. And he wasn’t being overly quiet, having loudly discussed the quality of eggs with Gin at breakfast this morning. He was focused, but that wasn’t all. It was... It was like-

It was like every moment of warm up and every second of the first set, no matter what he was doing, Hinata had the same look in his eye that he got when he was going up for a spike. That same fiery demand for excellence. That ‘You’re gonna toss for me, right?’ expression that Atsumu found himself kinda living for. It was like Hinata was walking around, talking, and playing, forever suspended in that moment between heartbeats where he fully expected the ball to come to him. Where he demanded it. Receives. Blocks. Passes. Spikes. All of it. Hinata had never played better.

It was fucking electric is what it was.

Atsumu wasn’t exactly a fundamentally honest person. But even he could admit that he hated playing Shiratorizawa. Ushiwaka was annoying enough to deal with — poor Akagi was coming out of today with ground beef for arms, that was for sure. But it was goddamned Tendou that bothered Atsumu most — ruined his day/life/dreams/plans for the future. Tendou was the worst, with his high pitched giggles and his freaky long ass fingers that he liked to wiggle around like a puppet master, and those large eyes that seemed to bore into Atsumu’s soul. Also guess blocking is supposed to be easy for a good setter to deal with.

Tendou was not easy to deal with.

It’s like he had wormed his way into Atsumu’s brain, plucking every one of Atsumu’s stray thoughts out of the air, reading it carefully and then giggling maniacally as he saw through Atsumu’s best feints. His one saving grace, as Atsumu had known he’d be, was Hinata.

Anytime he was starting to feel too much of the Tendou pinch, he’d throw a sharp as knives quick for Hinata to do a broad attack with, tossing a smug smirk at Tendou, because there ain’t no way that bastard could keep up with Hinata, and they both knew it. Atsumu always made sure to give Tendou his most pleasant smile when Hinata scored, offering a polite warning that Hinata could do that aaaallll day if they wanted.

Perhaps— maybe a little— it had grated, just a bit, to watch Hinata step out onto the court for warm ups and start immediately waving manically at Tendou. “Tendou-san, hi!”

“Fennec-kun is a starter! Who knew~” It was the sing song thing Tendou did that always made the hairs on the back of Atsumu’s neck stand up. Swallowing his pride, Atsumu had given Kita a pleading look to go reel Hinata back in — someone had to interrupt Hinata’s animated conversation with the most terrifying player in all high school volleyball, and like hell it was going to be Atsumu. No way he was giving Tendou extra chances to worm his way into Atsumu’s brain. No siree.

Of course Hinata was friends with Tendou. Of course. He’d make friends with Sadako as she climbed up from her well, just ‘cause he could. One of these days someone needed to sit Hinata down to explain that there needed to be limits to friendliness.

The corner of Kita’s mouth upticked briefly as he walked towards the net to interrupt the conversation, clearly amused at how uncool (pathetic) Atsumu was being. Always one to seize opportunities as they came, Atsumu whipped his head around to look at Osamu “That counted.”

Osamu gave him an unimpressed look “We’re supposed to make him smile, I don’t think it counts if he’s laughing at you.”

“Still counts, or Shouyou-kun wouldn’t be so far ahead from that time he tripped over that bucket and ended up with it on his head.” Atsumu pointed out. Kita had actually guffawed (Guffawed!) as Hinata’s bucket covered head had turned from side to side, confused as to why he couldn’t see anything. It was funny — but that day they all learned that Kita apparently enjoyed slapstick routines. The brothers adjusted their Kita-smile approach accordingly.

Hinata was still in the lead by miles.

Osamu wrinkled his nose, but didn’t disagree. And then they had Shouyou-kun back from the evil clutches of the Guess Monster. Though it wasn’t just Inarizaki who had watched that interaction with some trepidation. Most of Shiratorizawa had likewise been distracted by Hinata and Tendou’s animated chatter. Though, maybe Atsumu would call the expression on Ushiwaka’s face more... uncannily enraged?

Whatever their disagreement yesterday, it was apparent that Ushiwaka really didn’t like Hinata.

In fact, Atsumu might say that Ushiwaka kinda had it out for Hinata — it wasn’t just Hinata who’d been thrown yesterday by their encounter, apparently it also left Mr. Stoic Perfection pissed. Leave it to Hinata to induce strong emotions in even the most detached person Atsumu had ever met.

From the moment they stepped onto the court for warmups, there wasn’t a player on Inarizaki who hadn’t noticed the way Ushiwaka was staring at Hinata, like a hawk sighting it’s prey. Not that Hinata wasn’t giving freaky dead eyed stares back. For all their differences in skill and size, Atsumu had to admit Hinata and Ushiwaka had a very similar air of intensity about them. Maybe Suna was onto something.

During serve warmups Riseki had heaved a heavy sigh after catching Ushiwaka glaring into their side of the court “Man, thank god volleyball isn’t a contact sport.” He’d said to Hinata, “Otherwise he might try to turn you into a smear on the court.”

Hinata didn’t even have a chance to puff up in offense — leave it to Shouyou-kun to think he could take Ushiwaka in a fair fight — Akagi had slid by to cooly offer “You’ve obviously never received an Ushiwaka spike before.” To his credit, Riseki blanched only a little at the implication.

Yep. Receiving Ushiwaka spikes suuuucked. If only Ushiwaka were a little less gifted. Though maybe playing him wouldn’t be so fun. Trade offs. Trade offs.

Things were off to a fine start overall. Except for the whole dropping the first set against Shiratorizawa thing. That had freaking sucked. Even though Hinata had played better than Atsumu had ever seen him. Akagi was digging more than half of Ushijima’s spikes. Even though his and Osamu’s serves were on fucking point. They still dropped the set, creeping set point up to 30-31. It was going to be one of those kinds of games, wasn’t it?

As Atsumu poured water into his mouth during the break between sets, he had the errant thought that at least they’d be giving Hinata his three set game today. That was kinda nice.

“Y’know, I once had the passing fancy that Gremlin-chan had just as much presence as Ushiwaka.”

Atsumu jerked his head to give Suna a surprised stare. Osamu looked equally startled on his other side. Suna made it pretty clear that as amusing as he found Hinata, he didn’t really understand why Atsumu and Osamu, Kita and Aran, and even Akagi liked him so much. Though Osamu was convinced that Suna DID like Hinata, and only tried to cover it up by tossing out insults at the people who were loud in their affections. Suna had certainly never shown much interest in Hinata on the court, outside of him being good enough to hold his own.

Atsumu opened his mouth to ask what Suna meant, but Suna beat him to it, stretching out his shoulders as he squinted towards the Shiratorizawa bench. “Sometimes it’s downright freaky being right.”

Atsumu had no idea what the heck Suna was talking about — as Hinata’s number one advocate (Osamu could eat shit), Atsumu could still honestly say Hinata had miles and miles to go before he was anywhere near Ushiwaka’s level. For one thing, their function on the court was significantly different. Ushiwaka was the epitome of the stalwart ace. Most Shiratorizawa plays centered him in some way.

Despite whatever tension he and Hinata had earlier in the term about decoys — it wasn’t a fight, just a momentary disagreement about philosophies... And the whole thing where they didn’t use the ‘decoy’ word to describe Hinata within his earshot — despite the whole fact that he definitely WAS one — Hinata’s role was to draw attention. Move in his too quick, borderline erratic ways to confuse and freak out the other team’s defense. Get them watching Hinata, so Atsumu could do whatever the hell he wanted. It had been working fantastically so far. During practice matches, qualifiers, their first game yesterday.

Though... Maybe that’s what Suna meant? Hinata’s function was to draw as much attention as possible throughout a game. Ushiwaka, by virtue of being who he was, did so as well. He just acted more on the threat of his presence than Hinata did. It was certainly something to think about.

Osamu nudged him on the way by to line up at the beginning of the second set “Serves up ‘Sumu.” There was a challenging light in his eyes as he said it — he and Osamu were currently tied for service aces, and Osamu was trying to let him know that he wasn’t going to stand for that. Sucking on his teeth, Atsumu palmed the ball, deciding that sending a nice little floating present to the mouthy Shiratorizawa first year would be an excellent way to start their second set.

“Nice serve!” Hinata chirped from the spot in front of him. Atsumu gave him a vicious smile. Nice serve indeed. Wrack a few points up here. Crush Shiratorizawa’s spirits there. All in a day's work.

As the second set progressed Atsumu tried to keep his cool — and he managed over all, but goddamn if Shiratorizawa’s defense hadn’t gotten much better since the last time Inarizaki had faced them a year ago. Annoying as hell was what it was. The only true edge they had over Shiratorizawa was in their potential speed of attack, and who better to lead a charge like that, than one of the fastest people at nationals?

It was a thing of beauty watching Shiratorizawa reel and gape everytime Hinata nailed a quick. Oh, ya thought yer defense was getting set up all pretty? Whoops! Too bad. Shouyou-kun already scored on ya. Even better was doing that a few times in a row, and then tossing to Aran or Osamu for a change of pace, just as the blockers started shifting towards Hinata.

Starting to get used to the variability of these attacks? Welp, here comes Hinata off the back row. Got lots and lots to watch out for now, dontcha? Oop! Setter dump! Who put that there? Atsumu’s grin definitely took on a shit eating quality as the set progressed. Nothing quite like watching an opponent struggle to keep up with ya.

“‘Sumu.”

Atsumu gave his brother a smirk, trying to convey ‘see how lucky I am, gotcha all dancing to my tune’. Osamu, as was his very boring way, only scoffed.

“Slow down. We all ain’t Shouyou-kun.” Osamu turned his gaze back, the ball was in Shiratorizawa’s court, waiting to be put up for a serve by #3.

Atsumu clucked his tongue “It’s fiiiine.” Osamu looked like he wanted to say more, but the serve was coming over now. Shiratorizawa ended up digging their answering attack, setting up for an attack. Who does the setter with a bad haircut use? Whoop, shocker. Here comes another Ushiwaka special — shit, no way in hell Hinata was going to be much help blocking this, Atsumu versus Japan’s number one ace. Dammit—

The ball came lancing down, an expletive on the tip of Atsumu’s tongue — out of the corner of his eye Atsumu saw a blur of orange, stopping abruptly, almost ricocheting back, as the ball arched high towards the net. Atsumu was already in motion, leaping into the air, feigning a set — before he adjusted his weight and tipped the ball in a long setter dump. Right behind the excitable first year with the bad hair. Heh.

Atsumu whirled to roar his jubilation at Hinata for such an excellent dig, only to find Akagi fluttering near Hinata. Hinata. Clutching a floridly red cheek, trying to give Akagi a reassuring smile. “What happened to yer face?”

Hinata gave him a sheepish smile “I, uh, received with it.”

Atsumu stared. Akagi guffawed loudly “That’s not what we call it Shou. Ya got nailed in the face ‘cause you stepped too far forward.” Hinata gave an uncomfortable laugh, taking the hand that had been pressed to his cheek, and rubbing at the back of his head. That was almost certainly going to bruise. Geez.

“The heck?”

Everyone turned to look at him, including a narrow eyed looking ref, so Atsumu took a second to grimace and wave a hand, showcasing it was no big deal, don’t mind it. “Yer lucky ya didn’t break yer nose Shouyou-kun.” Atsumu turned to continue their rotation, getting into position. Hinata was fine, no worse for wear than usual.

“Oh yeah, that’s why I turned my head at the last second.”

The whole team paused, and then turned to stare blankly at Hinata.

Hinata shrugged “If I got a bloody nose, I’d be taken off the court.” He explained, like it was obvious and simple. To turn your head at the last second on an Ushiwaka spike, and take it with your cheek and not your nose.

Akagi gave a high pitched, baffled little laugh “You are such a little freak, Shou.” And then he laughed at his own joke. Mid-giggle Akagi’s eyes dragged off to the side where Kita was standing with a placard, #10 in his hand. “So much for stayin’ on the court.”

Hinata whipped around, his nose wrinkling at the whistle from the referee and he approached Kita with a grumble and his shoulders hunched “But I’m not bleeding!” He whined, voice pure petulance.

Kita pet his shoulder very briefly as they bypassed each other “Just to be sure.” And then he lasered in on the rest of the team. Everyone’s spines straightened involuntarily. “Let’s focus on the next point, shall we?”

As one, the rest of the team nodded and barked a “Yessir!” in answer. Hinata was already sitting on the bench pressing an ice pack to his cheek, mouth opened wide as Coach Oomi used a flashlight to check for bleeding.

Maaaybe they’d been getting a little fast and loosey goosey with their plays. It wasn’t Atsumu’s fault that the best way he’d found to circumvent Tendou, and the rest of Shiratorizawa’s defense was speed. Tendou might have wormed his way into Atsumu’s brain, but he was only so fast, certainly nowhere near Hinata levels, or even Osamu. So Atsumu had been tossing fast — maybe Suna and Omimi didn’t do so well with that but that was fine, their blocks were funneling Ushiwaka and—

“Atsumu.”

Atsumu jerked, giving Kita a sheepish look. “Yeah?”

Kita was giving him that soul rending stare — Tendou might be able to worm his way into Atsumu’s brain, but it was Kita who knew exactly what made Atsumu tick. Of the two of them, Kita was definitely way more terrifying. He didn’t even need to say anything.

“I’ll take it easy.”

Kita nodded, satisfied “Good. Let’s get that next point.”

If playing with Hinata was like lighting a fire underneath all their asses, Kita was the structured grill laid over the fire to make it effective. Banked the flames into something useful. Something you could cook off of — Atsumu was starting to sound like his brother. Also maybe he was getting kinda hungry. Point being, Hinata made Atsumu want to go fast because he could. Kita reminded him that he could slow things down, rely on the strength of their team.

Inarizaki was not, and had never been a one trick pony.

Nothing quite like giving the perfect toss to Suna, watching him angle himself around a block — much to the Shiratorizawa’s irritation. Heheh. Or tossing the ball high for Omimi, watching him spike overtop of the blockers heads. Atsumu had even managed nailing his own spike, lulling the defense into a false sense of security that of course Atsumu was always going to set. SIKE! Here comes Osamu tossing a quick. Eat shit Shiratorizawa.

Flicking his gaze to the scoreboard, despite the sense of newfound calm permeating their team — that steady determination, they were only up by two points halfway through the set.

It was just as Atsumu was coming up for his next serve that Hinata switched back onto the court, exchanging a word with Kita as he handed off the #1 placard. Hinata gave Atsumu a grin and a thumbs up.

Nope, Inarizaki hadn’t ever been a one trick pony, unlike Shiratorizawa, structured to uplift one player only. Watching Hinata tuck his hands to protect his head, Atsumu grinned. Especially not now. Inarizaki could do anything.

It was a few rallies later that if Atsumu were one to cry (he was, just shut up about it, not during a game) he’d have been sobbing at the pure beauty of Hinata’s receive. They were in what felt like the longest rally of his life, the ball crossing the net more times than he could count, when a flubbed receive by Osamu had the ball sailing towards that prissy Shiratorizawa setter on a chance ball. Ushiwaka was already in the air. Fuck fuck fuck— Suna was alone blocking him, Osamu was scrambling onto his feet trying to get there— too late.

The ball came rocketing down like a ballistic missile and in the millisecond between impacts Atsumu’s brain was already queuing up receive formations for Shiratroizawa’s next serve. Before he could get very far, stepping out from the ether itself, Hinata was there. It was like simply by existing he’d created a silent vacuum of slow motion. Like sucking in a long breath after holding it underwater for too long. The megaton impact that would have blasted anyone else away, Hinata took, stance low, rolling back once, twice. Atsumu didn’t even have time to process the perfection of that receive, a setter’s wet dream of a pass was making its way towards him.

Dropping his shoulder like he was about to do a dump, Atsumu used one hand to send Aran the ball, watching his spike slam just inside the paint. Perfecto!

Three seconds ago Atsumu had been kinda tired, kinda hungry, and a whole lot resigned about losing that long ass rally, only to have Hinata elegantly pull the point away from Shiratorizawa, so Atsumu could hand it off to Aran. Holy heck, had he ever thought of Hinata as elegant before? Whatever, he now felt energized enough to play eight more games today. And maybe race Hinata or something. Hell yeah!

He was going to have wet dreams about that pass. He was sure of it.

Weird thought Atsumu, but okay.

After their jubilant cheers and shrieks, Hinata staring in wonder at his own forearms as Akagi literally climbed him in his excitement, Shiratorizawa called a timeout. It may have been a good set from Atsumu, and an excellent point for Aran, but all their eyes were on Hinata, elated at his beautiful receive. Akagi loudest of them all about how freaking PROUD he was.

Just before their timeout ran down Osamu nudged him “I think we need to start comin’ up with cool names for the stuff Shouyou-kun does on the court.”

Atsumu’s eyes widened and he felt himself practically glitter in excitement at the thought “That’s exactly what I was thinkin’!” Atsumu held out a hand, flicking his hair a bit “That last play should be called Stillness in Motion.”

“It was just a receive.”

Atsumu gave a scandalized squawk “Just! A receive?” He doesn’t think Osamu has offended this much in a long while “Like you’dve been able to pull that off.” Osamu only snorted, taking another long draw from his water bottle.

Hinata appeared at his shoulder “Are we coming up with more names for attacks?”

Atsumu gave him a lopsided grin “Yeah, yeah. Whatcha think about callin’ that last play stillness in motion?” Hinata sucked in a breath, nodding his head vigorously as he started bouncing on his toes.

Osamu was making his way back onto the court, hands on his hips “Just a receive you dweebs.”

Hinata crossed his arms “You’re just a filtering Osmau-san!”

Atsumu squinted at him “I think ya mean philanderer.”

Aran gave a laugh, grabbing both of them by the shoulder and shoving them back onto the court “Philistine. The word you’re looking for is philistine.”

“Whatever — all the same, cool as heck receive Shouyou-kun. Let’s crush ‘em!” Atsumu held out an expectant fist.

Hinata beamed “Into the dirt!” He chirped, bumping their fists together.

“You two are exhausting.” Suna grumbled, lining up for his serve. As the whistle blew, he knocked the ball over, leaving the Shiratorizawa setter wrong footed. Atsumu couldn’t keep the pleased grin off his face at that. They keep up this momentum, and they’d take the set in no time. Even if during their time out Shiratorizawa had decided to switch tracks and were now using Tendou for commit blocking. On Hinata. Hell.

The first time Tendou managed to stuff Hinata, hooting like a demented bird, shreiking something about miracle boys, Tendou abruptly stilled, turning to stare at Atsumu and Hinata with wide, calculating eyes.

“Did you know you both do that tongue thing?”

Hinata and Atsumu jerked, exchanging confused glances with each other. Hinata had his little tongue peeking out, eyes sharp, ready for the next rally to begin. Maybe Atsumu had been flicking the tip of his tongue against his teeth — what of it? Not wanting to demonstrate he was bothered by the observation, Atsumu shrugged.

“Yeah, and?”

Tendou’s lips curved upwards, his eyes narrowing to slits — creepy creepy creepy “Nothing.” His beady eyes turned to look at Hinata “Though, you look cuter when you do it Fennec-kun.”

Hinata blinked and then beamed “Thanks Tendou-san!”

Atsumu clucked his tongue, now hyper aware of whatever the hell he was doing with it. Was it sticking out? Was he tapping it against his teeth? Was his mouth open too wide — and goddamnit that’s exactly what Tendou had wanted. Frick. By the creepy little pleased smiles Tendou was sending him, Atsumu knew that he knew his shitty little ploy had worked.

To spite him, Atsumu wracked up two points off setter dumps, just as the Guess Monster lunged after Hinata. Eat shit Tendou.

They took the second set, but Atsumu could see the toll Tendou’s blocks were having on Hinata. There were only so many times Tendou could shout “Nice Kill!” at his own block before it drove you to insanity. Gnashing of teeth aside, Hinata’s spikes were getting a little too vicious, probably aiming for tooling but only getting himself stuffed in the process. Any other spiker would be thrown for a loop, but Atsumu knew that Hinata prized his speed over everyone else highly. Getting beat on a run up must be chipping away at pieces of his soul. It was certainly pissing Atsumu off — Hinata was his sure bet on the court.

Atsumu began working out ways they could use various slides to open Hinata for a broad attack. Going into the third set Tendou was going to be tired, there was no way he’d be able to keep up with all Hinata’s running and jumping. If Atsumu couldn’t, no way a gangly dude like Tendou could. There were definitely a few things he could try...

It was after the second time Tendou had successfully guess blocked him during the third set that Hinata finally snapped. Or his version of snapping. Which was to go quiet and thinky. Atsumu sidled up next to him, always curious to know what was going on in his head. That and Hinata tended to get a bit weird when left to his own thoughts for too long. “Whatcha thinkin’?”

Hinata blinked and then gave him a challenging look “Next time you get the first touch, give it to me.”

Atsumu gave him a baffled laugh “Don’t tell me what to do Shouyou-kun.” Hinata just stared him down. Atsumu clicked his tongue, shrugging “If I feel like it.” and watched Hinata give Osamu his own stare down for some reason.

He supposed hitting fast had been the only surefire way to shake Tendou so far, but it was pissing Atsumu off that he had to keep using the sides when the center gave him so much more to work with. Fuckin’ creepy bastard. Fuckin’ Shiratorizawa using a commit block on Hinata. Fuckin’ team being used to receiving Ushiwaka’s spikes, acting like they had no problem with Aran’s hits. Shiratorizawa was always an annoying match up for them, and Atsumu had hoped Hinata’s speed and variability in his attacks would give them enough of an edge. But of course Shiratorizawa had the damned Guess Monster. Creepy bastard.

Atsumu may or may not have snuck a few looks at the bench as the game progressed, to find Kita staring at him with his ‘Don’t disappoint me Atsumu’ expression. It was more than enough to temper Atsumu’s desire to go FAST. The knowledge that Kita would be sleeping a few futons away tonight, DISAPPOINTED in him if he failed, insured Atsumu would do everything in his power to keep Kita happy.

It was a few rallies later that Atsumu finally got his chance to grab a chance ball first, nearly knocking Suna out of the way to get it. “Shouyou-kun!” He was already in the air, ‘cause of course was. Eyes burning at the chance to blow the ball beyond Tendou’s reach. But the Guess Monster was already there, fuck. Hinata could try dinking—

At the last possible second before he connected, Hinata twisted mid air and heaved one of the ugliest tosses Atsumu has ever witnessed in his life towards the center — Osamu was soaring, coming off the back row, slamming the ball down, right smack dab in the middle of the court.

You could hear a pin drop just for a second on Inarizaki’s side before the band, the fans, and the whole team absolutely lost it. Coach Kurosu was on his feet, clipboard nearly slipping from his hands as he hollered a “What the heck!?”

Atsumu launched himself at Hinata and Osamu who were high fiving, Osamu wiggling one hand in the air “A bit high, Shouyou-kun.”

Atsumu gripped both of them by the shoulder, shaking them “Have ya been practicin’ without me?” It was his first thought after ‘Uwah! So cool!!!’ and he was getting ready to be very upset with the both of them.

“Nope! First try!” Hinata beamed, giving him a thumbs up.

Atsumu turned to him to savagely ruffle his hair “That was the ugliest toss I’ve ever seen in my life.” Hinata laughed, batting him away “We’re gonna work on that when we get home. Can’t letcha keep tossin’ those hideous things.”

As they lined back up, Atsumu made sure to give an annoyed looking Tendou his most charming smile. “Hey Shouyou-kun, let’s do that again.” His smile became all teeth as Tendou narrowed his eyes at him. From across the court Osamu gave a hefty snort, his own mouth curling into a pleased grin.

Yep. The three of them together were going to be absolutely unbeatable. And damned if Atsumu wasn’t extradroinarily pleased that Hinata was willing to try new and slightly stupid things even in the middle of a match. Finding him last year had been everything. Fuckin’ kismet or something.

They were going to obliterate everyone in their way. Atsumu couldn’t wait.

The game ended in the most spectacular way. Like, if Atsumu could write poetry, he’d write some epic fuckin’ waka ballad. Call it fly high little fox or some dreamy shit. Oh man, he was going to have dreams about this play for as long as he lived.

It started at Inarizaki set-point with Ushiwaka shouting at his team mid-rally for the ball — Atsumu had never heard him raise his voice before, the dude sounded half feral — slamming the ball forward. Suna managed to get a hand on it, Osamu picked it up, setting it for Atsumu to hit. The first year with a bad haircut dug that, the ball once again going to Ushiwaka near the center now, which aw hell— Osamu was there to help this time, diverting the ball to where Akagi could grab it, putting it in Atsumu’s hands.

He chose Aran in that moment, seeing a perfect lane for his attack — and then Ushi-mother fucking-waka himself had the audacity to dig that ball up. Creepy setter with the bad haircut was predictable as always — tossing the ball high to give Ushiwaka time to get on his feet and smack the ball. Another skin breaking spike, Akagi took it in the elbows, lifting it enough for Atsumu to slide under it for one of his specialities, a back limbo set.

Who who who who who— in the split second before the ball touched his fingers he saw Osamu and Hinata moving in fluid unison towards the net, same tempo. Atsumu had a heartbeat to think “They better not be practicin’ shit without me” before he rocketed the ball off towards the net.

This spot— Hinata and Osamu converged on the net.

This timing— they jumped as one.

This angle— the ball on a razors edge trajectory moving towards the net.

Perfecto!— The block was split, and like a hammer, Hinata’s arm swung forward smashing the ball against the tip of reaching fingers. They all watched the ball fly towards the back of the court, Shiratorizawa players diving, but too far. Too late. The game was over.

Inarizaki win.

Osamu and Atsumu smashed into Hinata at the same instant, shouting incoherently at each other. Hinata was staring at his open palm — an expression reminiscent of the first time he ever hit one of Atsumu’s tosses on his face. It left something warm in his chest that Atsumu could only assume had something to do with winning a hard fought battle in the coolest fucking way possible.

Hinata snapped out of it to flail his hands up to mess up their hair as they both had effectively picked Hinata up, even as the rest of the team dove in around them. “I’m a twin psychic! Twin psychic!” He was hollering at the top of his lungs.

When Hinata finally managed to touch down on the ground again, Kita trying to wrangle them into wrapping up the ceremonies for the game, Hinata gripped the front of Atsumu’s jersey, a wild and open grin on his face “That limbo toss was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Atsumu’s cheeks kinda hurt, he was smiling so hard “Wasn’t it just?”

As they went to go shake hands, Ushijima seemed to lurk, waiting for Tendou to be done whatever the heck he and Hinata were discussing. Based on the sound effects Hinata was making and the way his arms were flapping: probably the game. How the heck did he have any energy still?

Finally done, Tendou turned to walk out with Ushijima. Hinata stood staring after them for a moment. Atsumu was about to call him over when Hinata’s voice rang out “Ushijima-san!” Atsumu, Osamu at his side both stilled, watching the interaction closely. Ushijima paused, half turning to give Hinata an opaque stare.

“I was right. There’s lots of ways to be strong.” He tipped his chin up defiantly, meeting Ushijima’s eyes through the net.

Atsumu tensed. He would throw down, for Hinata he would. Tendou definitely looked like someone who would immediately go to claw your eyes out in a fight, but he had Osamu at his back — probably. Also Hinata could be a little nuts sometimes. They could do this, they could take them.

And then Ushijima huffed out a breath that might have been a laugh? He nodded his head once “Perhaps. I have much to consider.” And then with that he turned on his heel, walking away with Tendou trailing behind him, giving a limp wristed wave to Hinata as he left.

Hands on his hips, Hinata turned with a satisfied grin on his face, “I knew I was right.” He muttered to himself, perking up upon noticing Atsumu and Osamu staring at him, and skipped over to them “Wanna go watch the Kamomedai match? It’s starting in the next court over!”

Osamu’s face pinched with something close to disgust. “Shouyou-kun. I’m starving.”

“Yeah, food first. Scoping out the competition after.” Atsumu said with a nod, planting a hand firmly onto Hinata’s back and shoving towards where their equipment lay.

“But I’m not hungry, I wanna watch—” Osamu cut off Hinata by looping an arm tightly around his neck.

“Don’t blaspheme in my house Shouyou-kun.” Osamu said gravely, making Atsumu laugh.

“Osamu-san you smell really bad. And wet.” Hinata said, struggling to pull his head out of what must have been the warm and moist swamp of Osamu’s armpit. If anything Osamu’s grip seemed to only tighten “Atsumu-san~” He whined, looking for help.

“I ain’t touchin’ my stinky ass brother, not for nothin’.” Atsumu said, stripping off his jersey, preening only a little at the delighted shrieks from some of his fan club still in the stands, shrugging into a clean shirt, and then tossing on his track jacket. Turning he found the Kamomedai game had already started — Hoshiumi was in top form, as usual.

A grunt sounded behind him, and Atsumu turned to find Osamu doubled over and Hinata at his shoulder, peering at the court next to them — interest lighting up his eyes. Atsumu snorted. “Betcha can’t wait to play Kourai-kun, huh?”

Hinata didn’t look away from the court as he bobbed his head in a nod. They watched a rally go back and forth — Osamu having disappeared, too impatient to wait for them to get his food. Throughout the game Atsumu interjected a few times, asking if Hinata had noticed a particular play here and there. Pointing out cool serves. Highlighting the weaknesses he could see. Hinata listened with rapt attention, lips parted in excitement.

This might be one of Atsumu’s favorite things in the world. Talking through volleyball with Hinata. No one ever wanted to talk to him as much as he—

“Hinata-kun.” Kita’s voice is far sharper than he usually uses for Hinata. Atsumu and Hinata turned to blink at Kita owlishly. Kita’s stern expression gentled a bit as he took in their expressions “You should get changed out of your jersey.”

Hinata blinks, staring down at his sweat soaked jersey “I totally forgot I hadn’t.” He says with a laugh, and then salutes Kita as he goes diving into his bag, pulling out a clean shirt.

Kita is giving him the ‘you’re on thin ice, Miya’ face — which is Kita’s face at rest when talking to Atsumu. Atsumu gives Kita a shrug, immediately regretting the motion, it probably makes him look defiant “We got distracted, sorry Kita-san.”

“Ya need to look after yer health. Both of you.” Kita emphasized as Hinata popped back up, his bag strapped over his shoulders. “Yer both too important to miss games ‘cause ya came down with a cold.”

“Yes captain!” Hinata chirps, grinning widely at Kita. Kita’s expression melts into something fond at that — and Atsumu isn’t jealous. Nope. Not at all. He’s totally fine. Never been jealous a day in his life. Just ‘cause Hinata was definitely the favorite, he was cool with it.

“Ya played well today Hinata-kun. I was very impressed.” Kita says, gesturing they should follow him.

Hinata chances one glance back at the Kamomedai game, and Atsumu can see it in his face, the war with being a goody goody versus doing what he wants. Atsumu decides to make it easy for him, stepping into his line of sight and shoving Hinata forward.

“Thanks Kita-senpai!” Hinata beams, sticking his tongue out at Atsumu, he sticks out his own right back.

As much as he’d also like to watch Kamomedai, Atsumu could really use some food. And some water. Maybe a nap. Yup, give him that, and then he’ll be good to go to talk to Hinata about volleyball and the weaknesses of their opponents for the rest of the day.

Plenty of time.

Had Fukurodani’s setter always been so pretty?

Osamu ruminates on this as he goes to pick up bento for himself, Atsumu, and Hinata — his dimwits couldn’t tear themselves away from watching Mujinazaka’s second game of the day. So as usual, it was up to Osamu to make sure they took care of themselves. Between games on third day hell is not the time to skip meals.

No time is the time to skip meals in his humble opinion.

Osamu wishes he could go back to that morning, tell past-Osamu that getting distracted by the reserved smile on a pretty face in the middle of a game was a bad idea. Getting diracted by that same smile in the middle of a game in front of Atsumu and Suna was downright stupid. A guy takes a setter dump to the face once, and he has to become the butt of all jokes, is that how it is?

This is partially Hinata’s fault too. Osamu wouldn’t even have noticed if he hadn’t made instant friends with goddamned Bokuto, of all people, through the net.

Oh sure, there’d been all the friendly flailing from both sides of the net during warm ups. With Bokuto booming “Little dude!” and waving. And Hinata perking up, practically glowing with happiness at being remembered, and flailed a “Bokuto-san! I’m so happy I get to play against you!”

If Osamu had played his cards right Aran would have been the butt of jokes for the rest of the tournament. Plenty to ridicule in watching your ace pout over his biggest fan mooning over another player. Even Kita had ribbed Aran a bit before the game started. Hinata’s reassurances that “Aran-kun, you’re still my favorite ace.” Had felt like weak platitudes after Hinata’s dramatic gasps every time Bokuto spiked a ball, and only served to make Aran more sulky.

Yup. Osamu had been kinda looking forward to joking around at Aran’s expense for the rest of the afternoon — pointing at other players and going “Man, I sure hope Shouyou-kun doesn’t think he’s too cool. Aran-kun, should ya shave yer head like Kiryuu? Maybe Shouyou-kun will think yer super cool again then.”

And then Akaashi goddamned Keiji had to laugh in the middle of the second set, punching Osamu right in the feelings. It had been distracting. And it was pretty rare that Osamu got distracted, so of course everyone noticed. Everyone.

Goddamned Hinata and his goddamned natural charisma. He’d just scored off of one of Osamu’s sets, beating a double block that had included Bokuto. When they touched down, Bokuto had practically sparkled, gesturing at Hinata and howled “He’s too good!”

Which set Hinata off, making some unholy loud noise “UWAUUGHOUH! No! You’re too good!” Kicking off the most endearing and energetic compliment battle Osamu hopes he’ll never have to see again. Looking over to gauge how irritating the rest of Fukurodani found their ace, Osamu got to witness the short abbreviated laugh from one of the most stoic players Osamu has ever encountered.

Fucking hell shit goddamn fuck a duck— Akaashi Keiji had a really nice smile. It warmed up his whole face, made his very nice eyes kind of glitter a little, and did he have a very nice mouth? It seemed quite nice. Plush?

Akaashi must have caught him staring, because it was only a few rallies later that Akaashi had smirked at him while Osamu was going up for a block, tipping the ball over the net, smack into Osamu’s face. Because he’d been too distracted by stupid Fukurodani Setter-kun’s very nice mouth. Again.

It’s like Atsumu has a sixth sense when it came to making fun of Osamu, because he was on high alert for the rest of the game — picking up fodder to rub in Osamu’s face later. Great. Suna was even worse. Giving him knowing little smirks anytime Akaashi cheered with his team over a point scored. This hardly seemed fair, it’s not like they made fun of Gin to within an inch of his life when he fell in love with a new girl every other week.

The worst of it had been after they’d won — a three set match, because of course they did on third day hell, it’s not like they needed that extra energy for second game later or anything — Hinata had been determined to go over and talk to Bokuto, who seemed equally excited to find Hinata and talk to him too. You’d think Atsumu would insert himself as Hinata’s constant shadow. Nope. Aran might make sense, given how jealous he had been. Or Kita, they could talk captain to captain.

But no, Atsumu and Suna were adamant it had to be Osamu who went with Hinata — and once Hinata was on board with that plan, there was no running away. There were few things Osamu hated more than Hinata giving him the sad kicked puppy eyes. He was never manipulative about it, he just genuinely wanted to be in Osamu’s company. Osamu couldn’t say no.

His brother and friends were real bastards sometimes.

Goddamned if Akaashi wasn’t even prettier up close. And he kept giving Bokuto these fond half smiles as he and Hinata literally bounced at each other, both of them flailing their arms around as they recounted their favorite plays from the game they both just played at each other. Hinata was in the middle of describing Bokuto’s ABSOLUTELY AMAZING cross shot against a triple block, when Akaashi cleared his throat.

“Miya-san?” Osamu wheeled his gaze to Akaashi’s face and willed himself to be normal. He raised a brow indicating he was listening “Are you looking forward to your next game?”

Osamu shrugged “Sure. Though third day hell is always rough.” Akaashi hummed in agreement and then they lapsed into silence, listening to the excited ramblings of the pair beside them.

“I hope your face is okay.” Akaashi said mildly after a moment.

Osamu jerked, feeling his cheeks flush just a bit as he turned to look at Akaashi again. “Huh?”

“I hit you in the face earlier.” Akaashi explained gingerly. Osamu could see the corner of his mouth curling up just slightly — oh, he was a mean one, wasn’t he? “I hope in your next game you’re not nearly so distracted.”

Osamu’s mouth popped open, unable to form a coherent thought let alone word. Akaashi turned to Bokuto, who seemed to be in the middle of explaining his moral philosophy on volleyball to an enraptured Hinata, “Bokuto-san, it’s time to go.”

Bokuto cocked his head, eyebrows pinching like he wanted to argue and then let out a big dramatic sigh “Welp, it was super cool meeting you Hinata! Next time we face each other, I plan on crushing you!”

Hinata sparkled at him “I look forward to it!” Which made Akaashi laugh again as he and Bokuto turned to walk away. Something must have shown on his face because when Hinata turned to look at him, concern dimmed his excitement just a bit “Are you okay Osamu-san?”

Osamu had a hand pressed to his chest, wondering if this is how Gin felt every time he saw a pretty girl. A mix of pathetic and overburdened. Sucking in a deep breath, Osamu lifted a hand to give Hinata a sharp pat on the head “I’m fine. C’mon, team meeting and then food time.”

When they returned to the team it was to find Suna and Atsumu making kissy noises at him. Gin tossed a hand over his forehead and dramatically sighed about star crossed love with an ice prince. Kosaku was just laughing.

“I hate every single one of you.” Osamu said flatly, picking up his bag and then pausing to turn and look at Hinata “Except you Shouyou-kun.” And then continued away.

“It is because he can hook ya up with that dreamboat, Fukurodani Setter-kun?” Atsumu called loudly, laughter only cut off by someone, Hinata most likely, whapping him in the gut.

Without turning Osamu continued towards the doors so he could get on with their team meeting — leaving these bastards behind “No. It’s because he’s the best at puttin’ ya in yer place, ya dick.”

They had strict instructions from Kita to rest — here he pointedly looked at Hinata, who seemed oblivious to the targeted warning — as it was likely they’d be facing a strong defensive team, no matter who won the next game. Coach had prepared them for this eventuality the previous night, going over game tape with Kamomedai and their opponents Yamamura. Six hours till Inarizaki’s next game. Plenty of time for some food, a nap, and maybe some more food.

Kita had pretty good reason to pick Hinata out in particular about resting. He’d been crackling with energy the whole tournament, absolutely restless at bedtime. Osamu would know, he was in the futon next to him and had on more than one occasion smacked Hinata with a pillow to get him to settle down. In the sleepovers they’d had last year Hinata was usually out like a light, flopping down sloppily and barely moving until morning. Sleeping like the dead. But the last couple of nights Hinata had been wiggling around, tossing and turning as everyone around him fell asleep.

Osamu was thiiiis close to dosing him with some sleeping pills. If he was shitty about sleep tonight after their second game, he might have to kill Hinata. You don’t mess around with your rest on third day hell.

Now that he thought about it, it had been kinda strange. Hinata had been up before the rest of them that morning too, feet kicking in the air as he laid on his stomach watching a Fukurodani game on mute. How the heck was Hinata getting enough rest? He must be, he’d had no problems during the Fukurodani game — as always outlasting them all on the court.

The conversation Osamu had with Atsumu on that first day niggled at him. Maybe he was falling into the same trap, thinking Hinata was some kind of immortal stamina monster, just ‘cause he always seemed fine. Nothing had dampened his spirits yet — making friends with his opponents, picking fights with Japan’s ace, nor meeting a player just like him who happened to be so much more.

But then Hinata had bounced around like normal after the Shiratorizawa match yesterday. And his face had done that adorable scrunching thing every time Kita or Gin subbed him out during the Fukurodani game. Osamu had been worried about Hinata’s mental state after going toe to toe with Ushiwaka — he’d certainly gotten a little intense for their first two games. But throughout the Fukurodani game he was back to his usual self. Loud, vibrant, excitable — Aran had on more than one occasion called Hinata’s name to get him to refocus and calm down.

Just like he’d been at the Inter-High qualifiers.

Feh, maybe Atsumu was right and Osamu was just a big ole worry wart. He was never going to say that out loud though.

The second the team dispersed after their meeting Hinata and Atsumu made a beeline for court C where Mujinazaka were starting their second game. Osamu shouted after them to find spots high in the bleachers away from other people. He didn’t care to watch too much of the game when he could otherwise be napping, thank you very much.

Kita materialized at Osamu’s shoulder, nearly scaring the bejesus out of him. “Make sure they rest and eat Osamu.”

Osamu pursed his lips “I’m not their keeper.” And then quailed a bit at the flat stare Kita was giving him. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll make sure they eat.”

Bentos in hand, Osamu found his shitty brother and Hinata high up in the stands — hey hey, they knew how to listen sometimes. Plunking down on Hinata’s other side, he handed the boxes out, cracking his own open with a satisfied sigh. “How’s the match going?” He asked before scooping up some rice with his chopsticks.

“Kiryuu is nuts.” Atsumu said around a mouthful of croquette. Gesturing with his chopsticks where Kiryuu was doing one of his crazy one step approaches. “It’s so gross how he can nail the ball so hard with so little momentum.” Atsumu was wearing his big doofy grin. The ‘I’m watching cool things happen in volleyball and I couldn’t be happier’ face.

“How does he do that?” Hinata asked in wonder. Osamu noted he hadn’t cracked his bento box open yet. With an eye roll Osamu elbowed him and gestured. Hinata peeled the box open with a sheepish smile.

“Be stronger than god.” Osamu said solemnly, picking up the smallest piece of chicken in his own box to start munching on.

“Biceps bigger than my head.” Atsumu agreed.

Hinata held his own arm out, scrutinizing the size of his bicep relative to Atsumu’s head. Osamu snorted “Ya got a ways to go Shouyou-kun.” Hinata stuck his tongue out at him. Osamu flicked his eyes down to Hinata’s untouched bento and frowned. “Eat.”

Hinata wrinkled his nose, but split his chopsticks finally and scooped up a little bit of rice. It was halfway to his mouth when Atsumu exclaimed loudly, spraying a bit of his own lunch. Thank god no one was sitting near them. Hinata jerked to stare at him excitedly “What, what?”

“Their setter is a sneaky bastard— Didja see the way he waited till...” Osamu let himself unfocus, more interested in passively watching, finishing his food, and then taking a nap. Thank god his parents got him those noise cancelling headphones last year. They were going to preserve his sanity, mark his words.

Atsumu was always like this at nationals. Like a kid in a candy store, overwhelmed and jacked up on all the new colours and sounds. Volleyball was his sugar high and he never came down until they lost — and then it was like a supreme crash. When they’d gotten top four, again, at Spring Nationals in January Osamu had fully expected his brother to be surly and shitty the whole following week, as he had been after last year's Inter-High.

Osamu needed to start remembering to factor Hinata more in his expectations of his brother. It was two days after they’d returned home after that loss that Hinata had sent them a message, inviting them over to his house. He included a picture of his personal volleyball net as bait, snow dusted as it was. The cherry on top though was the challenge he issued.

“Don’t bother coming if you don’t bike over the mountain.” His message read.

Atsumu had barged into their shared bedroom, phone held in his hand to shove the screen in Osamu’s face “We’re going.”

Osamu had sighed, having looked forward to another two days off until practices resumed. He didn’t want to bike over a mountain. Even to see Hinata. He’d done that bike ride a few weeks ago. It sucked. Also it was cold out.

But then again, if this snapped Atsumu out of his funk a few days faster than normal, giving Osamu some peace of mind, well it was worth it, wasn’t it? “Fine.”

The bike ride still sucked. But at least he got to watch Atsumu suffer too. When they finally arrived, Atsumu nearly tipped over off his bike — Osamu had accidentally had them turn too soon on the way. It wasn’t his fault he’d blindly followed Hinata last time, he’d been a bit distracted with the burning in his lungs and his legs at the time. Anyways, Atsumu almost fell off his bike, and that was the first impression he got to have on Hinata Natsu.

Like poetry in motion.

“Onii-chan...?” The little orange haired girl in front of them called, eyeing them wearily. From somewhere inside the house, Hinata’s voice called back in question. Osamu noticed she was clutching a Mikasa ball in her hands, in nothing but a light sweater and jeans. Wasn’t she cold?

“There’s some street toughs outside.” Natsu’s eyes narrowed on them dangerously, her eyes flicking towards the chicken pen where Tama-kun, Osamu’s nemesis in rooster form, was pecking about. Good god was she going to sic the demon rooster on them?

“Street toughs?” Atsumu asked indignantly.

“Please don’t summon Tama-kun.” Osamu said, holding his hands up placatingly.

“Street toughs?” Hinata repeated, stepping out onto the veranda and then laughing when he saw who it was “You guys got here way faster than I would have thought you would.”

Natsu tipped her head up towards her brother, still eyeing Osamu and Atsumu suspiciously “Onii-chan, have you made friends with the local hooligans?” It seemed Natsu, like her brother, also lacked the ability to keep her voice low.

“That’s Atsumu-san and Osamu-san. Natsu, say hello.” Hinata said, unable to suppress his amused grin.

Natsu looked over her shoulder at them, scrunching up her face into something quite disdainful and let out a “Hmph.” Hinata poked her in the cheek. Natsu turned fully, arms crossed petulantly, glaring at some point in the dirt between where Atsumu and Osamu stood “Welcome to our home.” She narrowed her eyes “Please be respectful.” And then she flounced away, her nose in the air as she made her way inside.

Atsumu was deeply, personally offended “Street toughs? Do I look like a delinquent to ya?” Hinata’s nose wrinkled and Atsumu gasped, horrified “Shouyou-kun!”

“How was the bike ride?” Hinata asked brightly, changing the subject by gesturing they should make their way to the front door. Atsumu grumbled in the short march over. Osamu allowed himself a small laugh, trying to artfully cover his mouth when Atsumu glowered at him.

Hinata had mentioned to Osamu, at the start of winter break when he’d come for his sleepover, that Natsu had feelings about the existence of the Miya twins. Specifically that Osamu and Atsumu must be trying to ‘steal’ her brother away from her. Her evidence, which she held onto with a lot of prejudice, was that they’d taken nearly all of Hinata’s weekends last year, leaving her without the company of her beloved Onii-chan.

To be fair to her, Osamu can’t imagine it felt very good to move to a new prefecture where you don’t know anyone, only to have the one person you knew and loved and relied on to keep you company in a strange place, disappear two days out of the week to hang out with friends. Osamu didn’t begrudge Natsu her resentment. Though Atsumu certainly did.

It was evident that Natsu wasn’t exactly thrilled that Atsumu and Osamu had chosen to ‘invite themselves’ over as she put it — no matter how Hinata corrected her, that no it was HE who invited them over.

Eventually, after a bit of catching up, and Atsumu getting kicked in the shins a few times for swearing within earshot of Natsu — Natsu having holed up in her small room just off the family room where they sat, a lurking resentful presence in the house — Atsumu suggested they go test out the Hinata family volleyball net.

At that Natsu’s bedroom door slid open, and she looked down at them, tucked into the kotatsu as they were. “I’m coming too.” Hinata wiped a hand down his face, and Osamu realized the pose was awfully similar to the one Aran got when Osamu and his brother were being particularly grating. Huh.

Atsumu gave his best attempt at a child friendly smile “Sure thing Nacchan!”

Natsu sucked in a scandalized breath “How dare ya be so familiar with me!” She placed her hands on her hips, glaring down at Atsumu “You can call me Hinata-san, or if I’m feelin’ generous: Natsu-san.”

Osamu looked over at Hinata and mouthed “Ya? Feelin’?” Making Hinata bury his head in both hands now, much to Osamu’s amusement.

Atsumu’s smile turned a bit tight, “Okay, Natsu-san, wanna join us?” He asked through his teeth.

Natsu was already on her way to the front door “I wasn’t feeling generous.” She threw over her shoulder primly as she pulled her boots on.

Osamu collapsed forward on the table, unable to keep control of his laughter. Atsumu looked like he’d just been slapped. Turning to Hinata, Atsumu had his lower lip sticking out in a pout “Yer sister is kinda rude Shouyou-kun.”

Hinata stood, making for the door — Osamu noted he didn’t bother putting anything on over his hoodie and sweatpants, Miyagi people were insane — Hinata waved a hand dismissively “Kansai hospitality, ain’t it?” He asked with a drawl.

Osamu laughed, delighted, as he followed after him “Ohoh! Ya been workin’ on that accent I see.”

“Didja think I wouldn’t?” Making Osamu smile. He was getting good.

“What the fuck.” Atsumu grumbled, shrugging into his jacket, sulking now, as if the rest of them had utterly betrayed him.

He quickly snapped out of his sulk a few minutes later when Natsu demonstrated that all Hinata’s apparently had a natural aptitude for jumping. Watching her tiny form spring upwards and just barely miss the toss Atsumu put up for her, had left both Osamu and his brother shocked and delighted.

Osamu turned to Hinata, eyebrows scrunched “How old is she again?”

Natsu made an indignant sound in the back of her throat at being ignored “I’m almost eight.”

Osamu waved apologetically “Sorry, sorry, it’s just cool. Yer gonna be a menace like yer Onii-chan in a few years Nacchan.”

Natsu also apparently lit up in excitement the same way her brother did, but she quickly tamped that down to stick her lower lip out at him “You can call me Natsu-san. Don’t be so familiar.” She stuck her nose in the air again “There’s only one person in the world who can call me Nacchan, and it ain’t you.”

Osamu only laughed and acquiesced. It would be after Hinata joined the team that he finally found out who exactly was allowed to call her Nacchan.

After practice one day Kita approached holding a tupperware, holding it out to Hinata. “My Oba-chan wanted to send her thanks.” He said with a small smile. Hinata’s bright thank you rang out through the empty gymnasium.

Osamu peered closely, his eyebrows lifting high on his forehead when he realized what he was looking at “Yer gettin’ sesame cookies?” Shouyou-kun was a kind, benevolent friend and would definitely share.

Atsumu gasped “Why does Shouyou-kun get cookies and we don’t?” And then quailed at the look Kita gave him.

“Hinata-kun those cookies are for you and Nacchan. Make sure ya don’t share ‘em out.” Kita said, turning to join Aran so they could walk home together.

Osamu and Atsumu watched him go, mulling what Kita had just said for a moment before they realized in the same instant and wheeled on Hinata “Kita-san knows yer sister?”

Hinata blinked, carefully tucking the cookies into his bag, “Yeah, him and his granny have come over a few times for dinner. I’ve helped out on his rice farm a few times too, thought not since last fall.” Osamu and Atsumu had just stared at him in open mouthed betrayal. This was the first either of them were hearing of this. Hinata’s brow furrowed “What?”

“He’s allowed to call her Nacchan!” Atsumu asked, incensed.

Osamu was shaking his head, still not quite believing it “This is why yer his favorite.”

Hinata blew out a breath, tossing his hands in the air “I need to get these cookies home. Let me know when you’re done having your Kita-san meltdowns.”

“Oi, oi, Shouyou-kun, yer not gonna give us any cookies?” Atsumu asked, eyebrows tilting hopefully. But Hinata just kept walking, flicking a hand in the air as he left the gymnasium. Atsumu lifted a fist to shake at his back “Stingy!”

“Natsu-san is the type to hold a grudge, we probably don’t wanna steal cookies from her anyways.” Osamu said, lips pursed. She still hadn’t forgiven them for stealing Hinata’s weekends last year, even though they hadn’t been allowed to have secret practice for months — Kita’s orders. Atsumu crossed his arms and only harrumphed, bemoaning the fact that he’d never know what Kita’s granny’s cookies tasted like.

Their captain, pillar of self care and diligence, sometimes brought his favorite kouhai treats from his family. Life just wasn’t fair.

That reminded him, Osamu had been given orders to ensure Atsumu and Hinata looked after themselves. Osamu had always understood the basics. Eat when you were hungry, rest your muscles. Sleep well every night — all stuff Osamu did naturally. It usually came pretty naturally to everyone around them too. You didn’t play high level volleyball unless you were already pretty decent at it. Well, maybe with one exception.

Osamu had managed to polish his bento off, and Atsumu was just about done his own. Hinata on the other hand, hadn’t even touched his yet — to ensorceled by whatever the hell Atsumu was talking about. Probably describing Kiryuu’s muscles again or something.

Having had enough, Osamu plucked Hinata’s chopsticks out of his hands, used them to pick up a piece of chicken, and then when Hinata turned to look at him questioningly, Osamu used his free hand to smush his cheeks and open Hinata’s mouth, stuffing the chicken directly into Hinata’s mouth — none to delicately either. “Shouyou-kun, eat yer goddamned food or I’m gonna feed ya like a baby bird.”

Hinata laughed behind his hand as he chewed, taking his chopsticks back. Once he’d swallowed he gave Osamu an embarrassed smile “Fine, fine, sorry.”

Atsumu was giving him a look “He’s not a baby.”

“I’ll believe that when I see him feeding himself.” Osamu said dryly, rooting around in his bag to grab his eye mask and noise cancelling headphones. Once he was satisfied that Hinata had tucked into at least half of his food, still enraptured by the game going on below them, Osamu settled in to finally take his well deserved nap.

“‘Sumu set a timer for two hours before our game.” Osamu said before he stuffed his headphones onto his head, watching Atsumu mouth something at him but unable to hear it. Ah, bliss. Eye mask on, Osamu was out like a light a few short minutes later, letting the faint rumble of the bleachers beneath him lull him to sleep.

When he awoke to Hinata shaking his shoulder, Osamu momentarily forgot where he was. Naps always made him a bit disoriented. Pulling off his eye mask, he saw his brother languidly stretching from a seat away, squinted eyes taking in whatever game was playing below them now. Niiyama girls maybe?

“I’m gonna go check out the Itachiyama game before we have to go for warm ups.” Hinata chirped, stepping over Osamu as he went.

Osamu gave him a sleep dazed stare “Shouyou-kun, ya know ya can just chill out, right?” Atsumu made a sound of agreement through a yawn from beside him.

“It’ll only be like twenty minutes, I promise.” And without waiting for their answer he was off down the stairs, heading to go check out yet another game.

“Where the heck does he get his energy?” Atsumu grumbled, rooting around in his bag for a protein bar, handing one to Osamu. “Ya got any gum? My mouth feels gross.”

Osamu yawned, pulling out a half crumpled package of mint gum and giving it to his brother.

Rubbing the sleep from his face and taking a sip of his water, Osamu pursed his lips. Something was strange. Was it just him, or had the hand that shook him awake been weirdly warm?

“Did Shouyou-kun sleep?” Osamu asked, looking over at Atsumu, in the middle of some shoulder rotations.

Atsumu paused, flicking a look over at Osamu “I dunno, he wasn’t sleeping when I put my face mask on.” Osamu frowned. “He’s fine. If he has enough energy to go watch more of that asshole from Itachiyama, he’ll be alright ‘Samu. Stop worrying.”

~~~

Later, Hinata’s feet kick off the ground with an audible smack of his sneakers, soaring into the sky maybe even higher than Kamomedai’s Hoshiumi can. Osamu has a moment to marvel, feeling his mouth spread wide in a pleased grin — thinks ‘there ain’t anyone like Shouyou-kun’. Thinks he’s glad he was wrong. Hinata isn't just fine — he’s amazing.

After, when Hinata hits the ground and doesn’t get back up, Osamu starts to think maybe he should have spent more time worrying.

He starts to think maybe volleyball isn’t worth it.

If the price of endless, voracious hunger is allowing it to consume you from the inside out, until you can’t stand on your own two feet, and you weep openly for all the world to see—Osamu starts to wonder if he even likes volleyball anymore, if that’s what it does to his best friend.

Unable to bear watching Hinata’s face any longer as Kita explains to him that he’s going to the hospital, Osamu turns to the only person he feels he can blame for this. It has to be someone’s fault, right?

When Atsumu looks back at him, white faced and looking like he’s about to puke, Osamu thinks about every useless reassurance Atsumu had given him in the last three days — Shouyou-kun is fine. He’s not a baby. He can do anything. Don’t be a worry wart.

Osamu thinks maybe his brother allowed this to happen in the first place.

Atsumu kind of looks like he knows that already though. Maybe it’s just easier this way, looking at Atsumu now, it’s obvious he already blames himself.

Welp. As they watch Riseki help Hinata walk out of the gym, Osamu feels himself sink into the anger boiling up his throat. When it came to Atsumu, Osamu has always been better at fighting than understanding.

Chapter Text

The game is over, and at what cost?

Surveying the team sitting in front of him, Akagi is pretty sure that any outsider looking at the crestfallen and defeated faces around him, would rightfully assume that surely they are the defeated. Nope. Inarizaki managed to bounce back from the particularly horrifying sight of Hinata falling to the ground, unable to get back up, and sweep the rest of the game from Kamomedai.

Akagi hopes he never has to see that expression on Hinata’s face ever again. He’d been angry and scared, sure, but Akagi didn’t know how to tell Hinata there was nothing to be ashamed of — that he needed to focus on getting better, not stay frozen in that moment of greatest disappointment and humiliation on the court.

Akagi has never really felt like much of a senpai. Never really cared to. He’d gotten lucky when he came to Inarizaki, surrounded by people who DID care, and who were genuinely good at caring for the others around them. Kita was the single most conscientious person Akagi had ever met. Aran, the most caring and thoughtful. Ren... The most self serious, but that just meant he took his job as senpai VERY seriously.

On the periphery of their little group was Akagi. Friends with them all, certainly. Got along with the team too. But he likes to think he has never a day in his life given off the vibe that he is a ‘senior’ and meant to be respected. He was a bit more relaxed and carefree than the others around him. Focusing on the things he found fun in volleyball, on his own studies, and his video games. He hadn’t really spent much time reflecting on the people around him, about their growth and their improvement. About the investment of time and care to nurture new talent.

At least he hadn’t until one half feral volleyball nut had convinced him to care last year.

Goddamn if Hinata wasn’t the most charismatic person he’d ever met.

Suna called him a volleyball gremlin, and honestly, as much as Akagi liked the kid, he couldn’t agree more. Akagi figured he’d never meet another player quite like Atsumu — obsessive to the point of mania. Dedicated to nothing but excellence in volleyball. Single minded in his pursuits. And then a small orange haired kid had walked into Inarizaki’s gym at Aran’s shoulder, staring wide eyed at him, and blown through his preconceptions and Akagi’s own understanding of himself.

Annoying as hell little bastard, Akagi still liked Hinata. A lot. He liked watching the kid squawk in embarrassment, cheer louder than anyone when he figured something out, his rambling and effusive compliments to all his teammates — even the half feral grins Hinata and Atsumu shared when they were really hitting a rhythm were charming in their own way.

Akagi liked volleyball, enjoyed his team, didn't mind practices. But Hinata made him love it all. Made the highlight of his day volleyball with this obnoxious kid. One of his greatest joys now was when he got to steal Hinata away from the others during practices to work on receiving, because “Shou, yer basically my protege, and when I graduate it’s up to you to make sure Atsumu gets the passes he needs so we can score.”

The way Hinata flushed and glittered at him, no matter how targeted and embellished Akagi’s little speech was, always brought a smile to Akagi’s face. He was still rough around the edges, but there was no one else on the team with better instincts than Hinata Shouyou. Lifting an Ushiwaka spike in their game against Shiratorizawa yesterday proved that.

Hinata loved volleyball so fiercely he made everyone else around him love it too.

It’s just he also loved it so fiercely that he broke himself with the weight of that love.

Watching him fall today had obviously taken a toll on the team, grave faces staring off into space, or glaring at the ground in front of them. Coach Kurosu and Kita were off doing interviews. Coach Oomi and Aran had gone to see if anyone had news about Hinata’s condition. They’d left Akagi and Ren in charge, though Ren was looking just as crushed as the rest of them. Well, except for one person — who Akagi would have thought to be the last person to get angry at this whole shitty situation.

“This is your fault!” Osamu snarled, standing over his brother, curled against the wall with his head bowed, the knobs of his spine visible as his head dipped between his knees. Atsumu didn’t even so much as twitch.

Osamu viciously kicked Atsumu’s water bottle to the side, the empty thing clattering and rolling down the hall. Atsumu still didn’t move. The entire team seemed to inhale, holding its breath, waiting for the shoe to drop. Or the blow to land. Or for the unforgivable words to be spoken.

There was no Kita or Aran here to get them to stop.

No Hinata to soften their rage.

Teeth bared and fists clenched at his sides, Osamu glared down at Atsumu with more anger than Akagi had ever seen on his usually bored face “Don’t have anything to say?” Atsumu still didn’t move, but Akagi could just barely hear a rusty mumble, spoken into the space between Atsumu’s knees. Osamu sneered “Get. Up.”

Still Atsumu did not move.

With a growl of pure rage Osamu reached down and hauled his brother up by the collar of his track jacket, hanging unzipped from his shoulders. Osamu shoved him into the wall, pinning him there. Atsumu looked absolutely gutted, eyes red rimmed and hollow, cheeks pale and his expression withdrawn. He looked as though Hinata had died on the court, instead of just collapsed.

“You said he was fine. You said it was okay. You told me to mind my own business.” Osamu hissed, with every indictment shaking Atsumu to slam him into the wall over and over. This was the first time Akagi had ever seen Atsumu stay still, to not bother fighting back. No reaction, just taking it. “He wasn’t fine. He’s in the hospital now,” Here finally Atsumu flinched like he’d been struck “You did this. This is your fault, you stupid selfish bastard.”

Around the pair loomed the other second years, not knowing how to intervene. Gin kept calling for Osamu’s attention, Kosaku trying to pull at Osamu’s shoulder only to be shrugged off. Suna, blessedly for once hadn’t taken out his phone and was instead staring blankly — like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

“It is my fault. I’m sorry.”

Despite the agitation threading through the rest of the team, Atsumu’s rusty voice rang out through the hallway, making them all freeze. He wasn’t looking at his brother or really anything — staring at nothing like he was reliving that moment Hinata’s legs gave way over and over and over again instead.

Osamu stilled, and then his right hand was letting go of Atsumu’s jacket, reeling back, and Akagi realized that Osamu was about to punch his brother in the face, at the tail end of third day hell, after the shittiest thing any of them had ever seen on the court.

Akagi had never been much of a senpai, had never really cared for it. But goddamn if he wasn’t going to try, just this once.

“Enough!”

His voice was like a shockwave, freezing everyone in place. Osamu’s fist was comically suspended in air, it’s owner staring at him in mute surprise. Atsumu had been snapped out of his fugue enough to look at him in confusion. The rest stared at him in open shock.

Akagi stepped forward, shouldering his taller teammates out of the way until he was standing before the twins. He grabbed Osamu’s hand and tugged it down to place at his side again, using his other hand to get Osamu to release his brother. Like an over large poseable action figure.

“You two are a pair of dipshits, ya know that?” Akagi asked loudly, placing his hands on his hips. Atsumu gave a confused frown, and Osamu just looked offended.

“We have a game to win tomorrow, don’t go socking our setter in the face, you dumbass.” Akagi turned to look at Atsumu, for the first time since they’d met two years ago, Atsumu wasn’t meeting him in the eye “And did you somehow sap all of Shou’s energy until he couldn’t walk anymore?” Again Atsumu flinched, pressing his eyes closed. Akagi sighed.

“No. Ya didn’t. Whatever the ‘cause it wasn’t anything Atsumu did. No sense blaming him, Osamu.” Osamu made a sound like he wanted to disagree, but Akagi held up a hand “I’m only yellin’ at you two dipshits ‘cause Shou isn’t here to do it himself. I’m sure he’d be absolutely thrilled yer goin’ around fighting and blaming yourselves for his illness or whatever.” They were both looking shamefaced now. Good.

Akagi turned to look at the rest of the team, all of them eyeing him like he’d just gone super saiyan after taking a shit or something. His gaze zeroed in on Gin, who quailed at whatever expression Akagi was wearing. Good senpai’s also doled out praise too, right? “Gin. Nice receives today. Keep that shit up tomorrow.” Gin gave him a short jerky nod.

Satisfied, Akagi turned to look at the rest of his team. “Listen up shit birds! We have a game to win tomorrow. The more we win, the more time we give Shou to heal up to play with us some more.” He sucked on his teeth, flicking his gaze over the assembled players. “So maybe instead of sitting on yer asses feelin’ like shit over something ya can’t change, try and win so you can do the only thing our favorite little gremlin would wantcha to do. Play more volleyball.”

He got a chorus of yessirs and some nods, everyone packing up their bags to head out to the lobby like they were supposed to do, waiting for their bus to take them back to the ryokan. Akagi turned to look back at the twins, both of them glaring at the ground, facing away from each other. “Hey dipshits,” He called softly.

Atsumu and Osamu flicked their gazes up at him, both of them looking guarded “If either of you make trouble and fight while Shou is resting,” He paused taking in their expressions “I’ll smother you in your sleep myself. This is a you bullshit thing. Not a him bullshit thing. So keep it to yourselves.” And with that, Akagi turned on his heel, readjusting his bag as he stomped down the hallway after the team. He could hear the shuffling but otherwise silent steps of the twins trailing after him. Good.

Man, he was tired. What a shitty shitty day. Played two long ass three set games. Watched his favorite kouhai black out on the court. Broke up a fight between his crummiest juniors. And had to play senpai which made him feel like he’d lodged a stick up his own ass. He needed food and sleep.

Mmmmaybe first he’d see if he could find some eggs and a chocolate milk for Hinata. He’d had a shittier day than Akagi, poor kid deserved it.

Hinata doesn’t think he’s ever really had strong feelings about hospitals before. He’s never particularly loved them, outside of the abstract sense of ‘necessary for society to continue functioning’ thing. But he also doesn’t have any strong feelings against being in one. Nothing bad or traumatic had ever happened to him that necessitated him to associate fear or anxiety with hospitals.

His strongest memory is a bit vague and blurry at the edges. He remembers sitting in a waiting room next to his grandmother, awaiting his Natsu’s birth. It’s funny, the emotion he remembers most is boredom and the indignant rage of an eight year old, not allowed to watch his scheduled anime on the waiting room TV, because the news was more important.

Remembers seeing his dad walk out of the hallway where his mom was ‘working hard Shou-chan’ to bring Natsu into the world. His father kept coming and going for smoke breaks, not making eye contact, head bowed on his way outside.

Hinata’s grandmother, passed away five years ago now, had clucked her tongue and patted his hand “Promise you’ll grow up to be a good man Shou-chan. One who looks people in the eye, even when you’re disappointing them.” Loving the cookies his grandma baked for him, he’d emphatically nodded, trying to stare her in the eyes the whole time. A flicker of hope that maybe he’d get a cookie out of it, if he could be so good.

As he sits in the exam room waiting for the doctor, staring at the darkened screen of the tablet one of Atsumu’s fans had given him, Fumiko holding his hand tightly, Hinata thinks about disappointments.

It had been disappointing when Hinata’s father, who was never really much of a father, had announced he was tired of his family and was moving overseas. That he wanted a divorce.

It was disappointing when Hinata’s mom shortly after told her children through tears they’d have to move to Hyougo — where she was born and where her brother still lived, they couldn’t afford Miyagi anymore.

It was disappointing when after nearly two years of working on Koji and Yuji, his best friends since before Natsu was born, a friendship developed on their elementary school jungle gym. They had promised to play in only one tournament for him in their third year of middle school. And then Hinata ended up moving away before they could fulfill that promise. Moving to a school where people played baseball or soccer and not volleyball.

It had been disappointing to lose his only middle school game, but even more so when the friends Hinata had thought he’d made in his months since moving to Hyougo all quit on him. He remembers sitting on that stone wall, thinking about how none of the kids who left him there had looked him in the eye as they’d disappointed him. Broken his heart. He wonders what his grandma would have said about that.

When Hinata had been half carried off the court, Riseki’s arm looped around his waist, tears and snot streaked down his face, he’d made sure to look every single one of his teammates in the eye. Even if he couldn’t find the words, he needed them to know he was sorry for being a disappointment. He wonders if his grandma would be proud of that.

Inarizaki had won without him. Bright fizzy bubbles of victory don’t stir in his chest like he expects them to. He feels kind of hollow and really tired and like all sounds are coming to him from down a tunnel. Of course Inarizaki had won. They were inevitable, even without Hinata.

He must have tensed his hand because Fumiko squeezes back fiercely, glaring at the opposite wall where a poster with the anatomy of the lungs sits. In the corner sitting on a chair is Honda-san, one of Inarizaki’s super fans and alumni who’d taken it upon himself to escort Hinata to the hospital. Fumiko had bullied her way into coming, in that obstinate way of hers. Jaw set, glaring down at the middle aged man a few centimeters shorter than her. Honda-san finally relented and raced off to hail a cab, Fumiko stayed to help him get changed.

“Your trumpet?” He croaked at her, feeling dizzy as he pulled his warm and blessedly dry long sleeved shirt over his head. He could hear the smack of a volleyball and the shrieks of the crowd and the triumphant music of the band. Inarizaki scores.

Hinata hates that he feels the sound of that joy in his bones, but is experiencing it on the outside of closed doors. It’s wrong. Wrong wrong wrong wrong.

“Shut up idiot, I have senpai who can take care of it.” She snarled at him, helping him finish pulling his shirt down and thrusting a freshly filled water bottle into his hands. Her face was flushed and she looked like she might cry. It was funny, because Hinata was pretty sure he’d cried all his tears out on that court in front of everyone as he was told he had to go to the hospital. That he couldn’t play anymore. When Kita said he had to take care of himself.

It was disappointing that Hinata apparently didn’t know how to do that.

“Uhm, Shouyou-kun?” A small voice called from near the stairs, and Hinata had the slightly delirious thought that Fumiko looked like she was going to leap over him and rip the girl to shreds. It was Ami? Or Yumi? A second year Atsumu-fan. She’d been rude to him once for hoarding Atsumu’s lunch times.

[“It’s funny how you think it’s cute that you glom onto Miya-kun.” The curl of a shiny lip and flip of long brown hair. Dark mascara eyelashes blink at him. Hinata thinks they kind of look like spiders.

“Haa?” He’d been on his way back to class, balancing his and the bentos he’d packed for Atsumu and Osamu in his hands. Osamu brought onigiri today and it was incredible. An excellent trade. The bento were lighter now, which meant they didn’t want to hold their stacking very well. He needed to get a bigger furoshiki to hold all three boxes at once.

The small nose above shiny, sticky looking lips wrinkled “Do you think they’ll like you if you make them lunch?”

Hinata realized that this was probably one of those moments like in one of Natsu’s shoujo manga where he’d be struck in the face with a glove. Is Hinata expected to throw his own glove back? Does he want to?

Tired of his lack of response, long brown hair is flipped over a shoulder again, she makes a disgusted sound in the back of her throat as she storms off.

No glove in the face. That was kind of nice. Maybe he’d ask Fumiko what she thought that interaction had been about when he got back to class.]

She held a metal rectangle. His brain must have misfired because he lifted his arms like he was going to catch a frisbee. He was so tired. “I have my tablet, if you want to finish watching the game while you-” And then her face flushed and she stared at the ground, extending the tablet all the same. Her eyelashes still reminded him of spiders.

Hinata thinks he thanked her. Or maybe Fumiko did. The next thing he knows he’s in the cab, or getting in the cab — he’s watching the game.

The last hour had been a weird blur. All day had been a weird blur. He knows he hadn’t really slept the previous night, but he hadn’t felt tired, not until he felt all his tired all at once. Had it only been that morning that he’d stood across the court from Bokuto, and found a new hero to worship? That felt like decades ago. Just after lunch he’d promised to compete with Hoshiumi for the right to be called the Little Giant. Or had that been weeks ago?

Was it less than an hour ago that he’d finally figured out his boom jump, only to fall to the floor and not get back up again? Or had that happened a lifetime ago? Had that even happened to him? Fumiko still looked like she might cry, so it must have been him.

The doctor finally came in. Acute exhaustion. Running a fever. Had Hinata been getting enough rest? No, less than 5 hours in the last three days. If he’d had the energy, Hinata might have laughed at the outraged gasp Fumiko made at that information. Fluids. Food. Rest.

No volleyball for the rest of the tournament, lest Hinata do himself serious injury. Nothing strenuous for a week.

A small, very angry part of Hinata’s heart wished Fumiko and Honda-san weren’t in the room. Because then he could tell everyone that he’d just overexerted himself and needed a day’s rest and then he’d be fine. He could play in the finals! Because of course Inarizaki would get there. They were inevitable.

He wasn’t allowed even that though. Fumiko certainly knew him too well, she’d probably already texted Riseki. Just in case.

Honda-san brought them back to the ryokan, with Fumiko marching him up to a private room so he could rest. The rest of the team wasn’t back yet, and when Fumiko left, Hinata was well and truly alone. Staring up at the ceiling he contemplated disappointment and the reactions his team had to him being one.

“Get checked out so you can come back.” Omimi had said with a solemn nod. With all the confidence of someone who thought Hinata had just sprained a finger, and not reached inside himself to toss his heart and half of his soul on the court.

Gin gave him a thumbs up and a strained smile “I gotcha covered Shou, we’ll take the next set.”

Suna had stared at him mutely, looking more uncomfortable than Hinata thought he was capable of “Well this is shitty.” Looking back on it now, Hinata almost laughed. He almost wished someone had filmed that—to throw in Suna’s face the next time he was being an ass.

Akagi had clapped him on the shoulder, squeezing almost too tight “Lucky for us we got me to cover receives.” But he didn’t smile like Hinata expected him to.

Aran had dropped his big hand on Hinata’s head and gave him a wobbly smile “Your ace has this in the bag.”

Kita had stared at him, felt like he was staring into his soul “Your battle is done for now. You need to focus on yourself right now, as hard as that’ll be.”

Hinata hopes he never has to see an expression like that on Osamu’s face ever again. Something between agonized and angry and guilty. Fists clenched at his sides and a plastic smile on his face that couldn’t reach his eyes, Osamu had shrugged stiffly. “Gotta earn that shogayaki, right?”

Atsumu was the worst of all. He’d been staring off into space looking absolutely gutted. When Hinata met his eyes, he’d almost flinched away, staring at the ground as he mumbled “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Over and over again. Like it was his fault.

As he walked off the court, unable to look back now after Hoshiumi’s shouted promise, Hinata had one thought skitter through his mind: Atsumu was a self centered dumbass sometimes.

Hinata must have fallen asleep at some point, because the next thing he knows he can smell the warm comforting scent of miso and rice. He cracks open his eyes blearily, face mask pasted to his face from drool, and finds Kita kneeling off to the side of his futon, a tray of food on the ground waiting for him.

Kita gives a small, reassuring smile behind his own facemask, eyes crinkling at the corner as he pushes the tray a bit closer. “Are you hungry?” Hinata mutely nods, with some effort pushing himself up to a sit. He feels a flash of anger at himself. How had he not noticed how exhausted he was? How could he let this happen?

Kita waits patiently for Hinata to take his first sip of soup, pouring him a cup of tea before he starts talking “You made a mistake today.”

Hinata looks down into the murky depths of his miso soup and frowns. He nods.

“But I betcha learned something too, I’ve never known ya to repeat mistakes Hinata-kun.” His eyes are kind as he says it. Hinata takes another sip of his soup. “I know how excited ya were to be here. To get to stay on the court. To play. But that’s no excuse for not taking care of yerself.”

Hinata nods into his soup again, his chest feeling tight. Maybe he has some tears left after all.

“Part of that might be my fault,” Kita says with a twitch of his shoulders. Hinata’s eyes fly to his face, feeling stricken. Kita just shakes his head “I bet no one ever thought they oughta teach ya how to look after yerself. That yer body is the best tool ya got. It’s important ta keep it well maintained,”

“Remember what I said about discipline? It’s not just about showin’ up to practice everyday, or makin’ sure ya got the grades to keep playin’,” Kita holds out his hand for Hinata’s soup bowl, holding out his rice and some chopsticks, which Hinata takes “It’s about makin’ sure the most important weapon ya got is well honed and sharp.” He holds up his hand and then clenches it into a fist.

“I promise I’ll do better next time.” Hinata says softly, voice still feeling gravelly, staring up into Kita’s eyes, even as his own start to water again.

Kita’s eyes crinkle in a smile “That’s all I can ask Hinata-kun.” He shuffles backwards to leave. “When we get back home, you ‘n me are gonna start a new secret training camp. But we can discuss that later.” Kita pauses before he opens the door “I’ll let the others come visit ya once yer done the food. And then ya have to rest, okay?”

Hinata gives him a wobbly smile as he slides the door open to leave “Gotta take care of my most important weapon.” Kita huffs a breath that is almost a laugh, and Hinata must be feeling a bit better because he thinks ‘that's another point for me over Atsumu and Osamu!’ and then Kita is gone and the door is shut and Hinata feels a bit better as he continues tucking into his food.

Later when the rest of the team visits, Hinata feels his chest creak with laughter as Akagi slides a container full of konbini tamagoyaki into the room through the doorway opened wide. Aran plunks a chocolate milk down and gives him a wink. Everyone slides into easy jokes and good humour, conspicuously avoiding talking about the game until Hinata starts asking questions. They hang like a pall over the room, everyone's false cheer momentarily cracked.

There is a beat. A pause. An intake of breath.

And then Suna tells a story about managing to egg Hakuba on until he finally snapped. Everyone titters nervously until Hinata tips his head to the side and smirks at Suna through his mask “Was that before or after he still managed to stuff you, even though he jumped early?” Suna blinks, and then snorts, shaking his head. The tension permeating the team eases.

Emboldened now, Riseki gushes about Aran’s pinpoint serves helping take back point for point against Kamomedai. Gin lays out for him how Hoshiumi had stomped up to Atsumu after the game and demanded he convey Hoshiumi’s well wishes for Hinata to recover fast because he would be waiting.

Hinata notices that Osamu is being awfully quiet, eyes gone distant.

No one talks about how Atsumu isn’t there.

Yup, Hinata thinks, Atsumu was a real self centered dumbass sometimes.

Eventually Kita ushers them all away, sternly telling Hinata that it’s time for him to rest again. Hinata lays back under the covers, a fresh face mask on, feeling lighter and better—even if he’s more exhausted now than he’d been when he fell.

Yet despite all that he can’t sleep.

Where the heck was Atsumu? And why hadn’t he come to say anything? Where was Atsumu sauntering into the room, flagrantly ignoring Kita’s rules about giving Hinata space, boasting about his best sets, and the best way he fooled the blockers. About how many service aces he had. About the cool plays Kamomedai had made. The grudging respect for Hirugami, and annoyed admiration for Hoshiumi. Where was Hinata’s volleyball debrief?

After every game they’d ever played since Hinata had joined Inarizaki, he and Atsumu would sit together and break down things they needed to work on, things that were cool, and things they wanted to try in the next game. It was his second favorite thing next to actually playing volleyball. Just because he didn’t finish the game didn’t mean he shouldn’t still get to have his Atsumu debrief.

It was the Atsumu shaped hole in the room that was preventing Hinata from sleeping. Atsumu not being here, not taking up all the air in a room, truly reinforced how messed up this whole situation was.

Hinata tried for another hour to sleep, the sounds of the team coming back from their baths and settling into the now much more cramped room across the hall, trickling through the door. Hinata tried to discern Atsumu’s footsteps from the rest, and found he couldn’t tell who was Suna, let alone Gin, or Riseki, or even Osamu.

Finally all was quiet and yet still sleep wouldn’t come.

Feeling frustrated, Hinata picked up his phone and pulled open Atsumu’s contact, hesitating. What do you even say to a person you need to see before your brain will allow itself to be shut down for the night? ‘Hey’ seemed inadequate. ‘I can’t sleep’ was too on the nose. ‘Where are you?’ was obvious, across the hall, duh. ‘Are you okay?’ would undoubtedly piss Atsumu off. Hinata briefly typed out ‘I’m not dead :prayer hands emoji:’ but swiftly deleted it, because maybe, perhaps it was too soon to make jokes about the most devastating moment of his life.

So instead Hinata stared up at the ceiling trying hard to think about Riseki’s boring math explanations — they never failed to put him to sleep before, only to be distracted as usual by thoughts of volleyball. He scrubbed a hand over his forehead, trying to think about math again, only to start imagining the arc of a chance ball curving over a net. The only problem was that volleyball thoughts led him to thinking about how he played today, trying to be critical and then of course he imagined the jump—jump— jump —jump. What goes up must come down. And hoo boy, did he ever fall—

The door slides open slowly with a soft swishing sound, soft light from the hall spilling into the room. Hinata lifts his chin enough to watch the warm yellow glow glint off Atsumu’s hair. They stare each other in the eye as Atsumu slides the door shut behind him. Once it’s closed Atsumu re-settles somewhere near his knees.

He’s not wearing a facemask. A fact Hinata only registers because even in the dim lightning cast from the streetlights outside, he can still make out the miserable twist of Atsumu’s mouth. The exhausted lines around his eyes. His usually carefully styled hair a mess.

“Hi.” Hinata croaks, his voice feeling rusty.

Atsumu flinches, eyes squeezing shut, fingers digging into the fabric of his sweatpants. His eyes stare down at Hinata’s comforter and he shrugs his shoulders as his head dips low, ashamed. Does he think Hinata is mad at him?

“I’m not dead.”

Atsumu’s jerks his head up looking alarmed, finally looking Hinata in the eye. And then his face scrunches up and he looks angry, only that peters out far faster than Hinata has ever seen Atsumu capable of, and he’s back to looking ashamed of himself. This was going to be tiresome and Hinata had a doctor tell him he had acute exhaustion earlier—

Perhaps he shouldn’t remind Atsumu of that fact to his face — not if he wanted to get his volleyball debrief out of Atsumu at some point tonight.

After another silent minute, Atsumu grips his sweatpants and he lets out a shuddering breath. He dips his head lower “I’m so sorry Shouyou-kun.” He says to Hinata’s knees.

“Atsumu—”

“This is my fault, I should have realized something was wrong.” Atsumu bulls forward, eyes never lifting from Hinata’s comforter. He has a brief moment to wonder if Atsumu is about to prostrate himself. “I should have done something, helped you— or stopped you— I don’t—” His voice was getting awfully warbly, like he was choking back tears. “I didn’t want to see it, to see anything wrong. So I pretended I didn't and—” He chokes himself off. Hinata isn’t sure but he thinks he sees Atsumu’s eyes shine wetly in the dim light.

“I didn’t think it could happen and I’m so sorry— I had—” Here Atsumu swallows, not knowing how to continue.

It had been hours. Had Atsumu been stewing like this since Hinata fell? Since the game ended? And everyone had let him? Hinata is too tired to feel angry, but he has plenty of room for bitterness.

“Atsumu-san.” Atsumu lifts his head, but keeps his eyes trained on the comforter. “Why are you apologizing?” Hinata thinks maybe there’s something of Kita in his voice when he asks because Atsumu’s spine straightens, just a little.

“Because, I should have recognized—”

Hinata doesn’t let him finish whatever self hatred spiral he was about to start “And what would you do, if you’d realized something was wrong, when I didn’t?”

Atsumu’s fingers once again wrinkle the fabric of his sweatpants. He shrugs kind of helplessly. “I dunno, maybe told Coach or something.”

“And how do you think I would have felt if you did that?” Hinata asks, genuinely curious. Atsumu stills, his eyes finally lifting to Hinata’s face, nearly flinching as they land on the facemask, before they skitter upwards to look him in the eye. He hadn’t thought that far, his expression says.

Hinata breathes a heavy sigh “I’d never forgive you, if you were the reason I couldn’t play. I wouldn’t talk to you anymore. I wouldn’t want to play with you anymore.” Hinata looks up at the ceiling, feeling himself frown “I think I’d probably hate you a little bit if you did that to me.”

Atsumu makes a noise in the back of his throat, like he’s horrified, but he also wants to disagree. Hinata doesn’t feel mean for reminding him now “I’m too tired to argue.”

Atsumu makes another pitiful sound in response. “I’m so sorry. I—”

“Stop apologizing. It’s making me more tired.” Well, Hinata had thought that was a pretty funny joke, even if Atsumu looked like Hinata had just ripped out his heart and drop kicked it across the room.

Atsumu just seemed to shrink on himself, staring down at his knees as he worried the hem of his t-shirt. It was clear as day on his face that he was thinking of all the ways he’d failed Hinata. Atsumu had always been an open book, maybe even more so than Hinata himself. He was probably thinking about what he’d just said about never forgiving him. Twisting it all up. Like Hinata was mad at Atsumu right now, because he hadn’t realized Hinata couldn’t take care of himself. Like a baby.

God, it was almost funny how many times Atsumu had told Osamu Hinata wasn’t a baby these past few days. Turns out Atsumu was wrong. Hinata had thought himself unstoppable and somehow managed to convince everyone else around him who should have known better. What a shitty super power. Convince people to believe the lies you tell yourself. How awful.

He’d never seen Atsumu look so miserable. And Hinata knew, was sure of it in his bones, that if left to his own devices Atsumu would play like garbage tomorrow. He wouldn’t sleep, too caught up in his own feelings — tired and distracted and then feeling guilty, making everything worse. Because Atsumu hated playing poorly, maybe even more than he hated to lose. He’d be sorry and distracted, and then he’d be mad, and then he’d lash out, and then he’d feel guilty and Hinata could see the death spiral coming from a mile away.

Atsumu took in a rattling breath, his face crumpled, barely visible from the light streaming into the room from the window. Somewhat hysterically, Hinata has to tamp down the urge to laugh. It was so incredibly on brand for Atsumu to come seeking to provide support, to apologize, only to need comfort himself. He wanted to try for Hinata, but he was so clumsy. His friend. His partner. His Atsumu. What a greedy and selfish idiot he was.

Staring up at the bowed back of his best friend, Hinata remembers how nice it had felt, after watching the Mujinazaka game, when Atsumu had fallen asleep with his eye mask on, head listing to the side until it had settled on Hinata’s shoulder. It felt good to support him. To hold him up too. Hinata had thought it was a sign of his own strength then. Hinata was starting to think he might be a bit of an idiot.

Just a week after he’d moved to Hyougo with his family, Natsu was still crying herself to sleep every night. He could hear her soft sniffles in the room beside him. Unable to sleep, so distraught over missing her friends, and feeling like an outcast — the way only a kid transferring into a class in the middle of term could understand. Hinata had gathered his sister into his futon, her head on his shoulder, her tears finally drying as she drifted off to sleep.

Hinata could do that for his best friend, he thinks.

With a fond smile Hinata slowly reached out a hand, giving Atsumu ample time to move away, circled his fingers around Atsumu’s wrist. He gave a few gentle tugs, pulling Atsumu over the covers to lay on the futon next to him. Atsumu held himself rigidly on his side, trying hard not to touch Hinata anywhere, while Hinata continued to lay on his back. Eyes wide and half panicked, Atsumu’s gaze skitters over Hinata’s face looking for some sign that this was really okay.

With a tired smile Hinata reached his hand up to ruffle at Atsumu’s freshly washed hair “Relax you dummy, I won’t break.”

Atsumu made a sound in the back of his throat, before allowing himself to relax, curling forward to press his cheek into Hinata’s shoulder, Atsumu’s arm looping over his stomach. Like he was cuddling a large, boney, exhausted teddy bear. Hinata kept petting idly at his hair, trying to soothe him like he’d done for Natsu a year and a half ago.

After what felt like too many minutes, Atsumu’s breathing finally settled into a steady in and out like normal. Hinata broke the silence “Can you tell me about the game now?”

Atsumu stilled, his arm spasming into stiffness over Hinata’s middle. Atsumu ducked his head so Hinata could only see the whorl of hair at the back of his head. He probably shouldn’t mention that Atsumu's roots need touching up. After a moment Atsumu takes a wet sounding breath and Hinata feels a slight dampness on his chest that has nothing to do with warm, humid breaths.

“Man, someone must be cutting onions in here or something. Who’d do such a thing?” Hinata says dryly, trying to keep a straight face — easy as pie with his face mask on.

Atsumu stiffens and then after a moment he snorts, though it almost sounds like a sniffle “Or it’s you. Ya freakin’ stink Shouyou-kun, jeez.”

Hinata feels no guilt whatsoever about karate chopping the back of Atsumu’s head. If he had the energy to wrestle, he would have tried to maneuver his armpit into Atsumu’s face, but alas. He’d take a bath in the morning, after he got some much needed rest, thank you very much.

Though two games worth of sweat and then the misery of the hospital probably left him smelling a bit like Akagi’s locker..

“Ya must be feeling terrible, what was that weak sauce smack?” And then Atsumu stills again, probably internally freaking out about mentioning Hinata’s own weakness to his face. Hinata only snorts in amusement, tugging at Atsumu’s ear. Relieved when he feels Atsumu relax at the playful touch.

“Tell me about the game. How’d I play? I got two and a half sets in after all.”

Atsumu sucks in two big breaths before he finally starts talking. In whispered voices they talk about his favorite plays, about missed opportunities. About tooling defense, all the more satisfying for how good Kamomedai is. How incredible it had been to watch Hinata trap Hirugami a few times. As much as it hurts him to speak on it, Atsumu finally admits how amazing Hinata’s jump had been — brags about how awesome his toss was to reach him. And then he talks about after Hinata had left. How well Gin played and how strong Aran was.

They don’t talk about how angry Osamu is, or how ashamed Atsumu still is, that’ll come later when everything is a little less raw and they’ve both rested.

Eventually Atsumu starts speaking in sleepy mumbles, until finally his breath evens out, warm air puffing on Hinata’s neck as Atsumu finally slips off into sleep. It’s his steady breathing that finally lulls Hinata into his own drowse, until finally, finally, he sleeps too. Atsumu pressed up next to him, keeping him warm in the cool summer night.

Hinata wakes several hours later to morning light seeping in through the window. Half bleary he rolls into the spot that had once been occupied by intense and comfortable warmth, starting to cool for some unknowable reason. He presses his face into the pillow and takes a long whiff — it’s comforting and familiar and good and he’s drifting back to sleep.

And then voices — that’s what had woken him up.

“—when I said don’t disturb his rest, I didn’t mean—”

“I know Kita-san, I’m sorry—” muffled mumbles and then “Can we take this elsewhere, I don’t wanna wake Shouyou-kun.”

The other voice hums in response and then footsteps carry the two people down the stairs. Hinata’s sleep-addled and still exhausted brain tries to sort through what he’d just heard — giving up and instead focusing on the nice smell of his pillow, snuggling up under his blankets some more.

He’s about to drift off back to sleep when he finally remembers: He’s not going to get to play today. He’s only allowed to watch. Fully awake, staring up at the ceiling, Hinata glowers at the ceiling fan above him.

Frick.

~~~

He’s sitting up in the stands and it sucks. It sucks it sucks it sucks it sucks it suuuuucks.

Coach Kurosu had pulled him aside prior to leaving the ryokan that morning, checking in to make sure he still wanted to come, emphasizing that it was important that Hinata get his rest. Hinata had been adamant. He needed to come, he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t. Resigned, Kurosu had only sighed.

“You have to understand Shouyou. If you come, I can’t have you on the court. I’ve pulled up Hideki from the reserves to sit on the bench while you’re out.” Coach explained, blunt but not unkind.

Hinata stared up into his eyes, annoyed Coach couldn’t suss his expression due to the face mask, resolute. “I’m coming. Even if I have to stay up in the stands.” He’d failed his team yesterday, he wasn’t going to today. He’d watch and support them from the stands, as awful as he thought it was going to be.

Coach only picked his glasses off his face, massaging the bridge of his nose “Alright kid. Fine. But you take it easy, or I swear I won’t let you come to practices for a month.”

Hinata breathed in sharply, horrified by the mere idea of the threat, nodded his head once sharply, before bowing. It was bad enough the doctor advised no strenuous physical activity for a week, which included Hinata’s bike ride into Kobe, according to Coach. Meaning no attending practice just to watch even after they got back home. Not being able to practice for the rest of Summer sounded like the worst possible outcome of this whole mess. Maybe if he pissed Kurosu off enough, he wouldn’t even let him attend the training camp in three weeks!

“I promise Coach. Best behaviour.” Kurosu gave him a brisk nod, and left to gather the team to head on to the venue.

By the time nationals wrapped up Hinata was going to owe Fumiko his weight in eggs if she’d have them. Not just for accompanying him to the hospital yesterday. But for swooping in as the team walked into the venue, distracting Hinata from an otherwise deeply awkward parting. He wasn’t supposed to go with the team to the warm up gym, he was meant to go find his seat — like a spectator. He’d been trying to figure out how to leave without being subject to pitying stares by his teammates, or guilty-sad looks from Atsumu and Osamu when Fumiko found him.

“Of course you decided to come, you absolute buffoon.” She said tightly, which to anyone else would have sounded like a sneer, but Hinata knew she was just anxious.

He gave her a tired eye crinkling smile “You know me.”

She tsked, waving a dismissive hand over his shoulder, likely at his staring teammates, before she returned her attention to him “I’ll sit with you. You can explain your stupid game to me.” Hinata turned to give his team what probably wasn’t a very reassuring wave, but they trailed away towards the practice gym all the same.

He found he didn’t have the energy to laugh, looking back at Fumiko “No, you go play with the band. I’ll be fine.”

Fumiko frowned “But—”

“I don’t think I have it in me to be good company right now.” He said with a shrug.

Fumiko had always been very good at reading between his lines — that he wasn’t really interested in being around other people right now — so she only scoffed and turned her nose up in the air “Fine, but I’m escorting you to your seat. I’ll never hear the end of it from that asshole Miya if you take a tumble down the stairs.”

Hinata breathed a laugh as he followed her “You just told me a joke.” Eyes from around the concourse were tracking his progress — Hinata silently cursed his distinctive hair. Though perhaps anyone would know him for the track jacket, the facemask, and his height anyways. The weight of people’s pity was more exhausting than yesterday had been. Probably. It was hard to tell now that he’d finally gotten some sleep.

Fumiko scowled thunderously at a nearby cluster of players, whispering amongst themselves as they approached “I’ll have you know, I’m very funny.” Hinata gave another breathy laugh, firmly gripping the handrail as he slowly ascended the stairs to the viewing level. Fumiko had used a jacket and her precious trumpet case to reserve two seats for him, closest to the exit in the front row, on the far side away from the other reserve players and the loudest part of the band. Hinata was grateful, he told her as much.

“Yeah, well...” She squinted off to the side, clutching her trumpet case in front of her.

“Thank you Ito-san, really.” He said, sitting down, pleased that he had a clear view of the court over the railing, even from his seat.

“I have my phone on me. If you need anything,” She narrowed her eyes at him, glasses glinting in the stadium lights “And I do mean anything. Just send me a message. I’ll be here.” He gave her a wan smile and a nod, watching her walk away to join the band. He supposed he wouldn’t get to hear Summon the Heroes today. Too bad — it was turning into one of his favorite songs.

He looked around the darkened gymnasium, contrasting brightly with the orange court positioned in the middle of the enormous room. Center court. All lights, cameras, and eyes fixed on the glow of orange. A bright light in an otherwise ceaseless void. Hinata had wanted more than anything to stand on this court with his friends, his team. And yet here he was relegated to watching. On high. Apart.

This might hurt worse than not getting to finish his game against Kamomedai yesterday. Maybe.

Not worse than hurting his friends, though. That was consolation at least.

The teams trailed onto the court to raucous cheers from the massive crowds, the roar nearly deafening. Hinata hoped dearly that watching the game would help him forget, distract him from the ache in his chest — he was up here, when he ought to have been down there. The only thing he could do was watch, and have faith in his team.

By the end of the first set, which Mujinazaka took by the skin of its teeth, Hinata finds watching a game he should be playing in to be no distraction at all. He’s so tired that he doesn’t know where it’s coming from, but it feels like there’s a hum of electricity simmering under his skin. His clothes feel too warm and constricting. The seat too uncomfortable. The squeak of sneakers too far, the cheers from the crowd too close. It’s all wrong wrong wrong and he should have stayed at the ryokan.

Worst yet was just watching the game — watching Atsumu make his precise sets, his competitive grin never blooming beyond a tight smile. Aran finding his rhythm. Osamu playing terrifically, despite not exchanging a single word with his brother. Akagi managing to dig a few of Kiryuu’s spikes, the slam of the ball against skin audible even over the shouts of the crowd. He wants to be down there. Hates that he’s not. See’s Gin playing well and wants to be happy for him, but finds his mouth tastes bitter and his stomach feels like he’s eaten nothing but sour candies for days.

He wants to receive one of Kiryuu’s spikes. Wants to out pace Mujinazaka’s blockers. Wants to try setting for Aran, or maybe even Atsumu. He wants to spike and spike and spike again and again until his hand feels raw, but he’ll still keep going anyways.

Instead he sits in the stands wearing a jacket he’s not sure he deserves anymore, watching and feeling like a hollowed out, bitter ghost of who he’d been yesterday. It hadn’t even been a full 24 hours since he’d fallen. The thought makes his stomach clench and his hands curl into tight fists in his lap. Stupid stupid stupid stupid—

“Ah, Fennec-kun, you’re not dead after all.”

Hinata jerks, turning to look up and up at the curled smile of Tendou, practically beaming at him as he half slouched, half loomed over Hinata. The game was in the middle of a rally, and some of Inarizaki’s fans were grumbling about Tendou blocking their view. Hands in his pockets, Tendou canted his head backwards and to the side in an impossible angle and stared at the person who’d just complained. His eyes were bugged out in what was probably a slightly off putting expression.

“Well, I am a middle blocker after all.” And then gave a high pitched hissing giggle, making the complainer blanche and look pointedly away. Pleased, Tendou bonelessly collapsed into the vacant seat next to Hinata, putting his feet up on the railing and curling forward, hands still in his pockets. Hinata wasn’t sure how that position was comfortable.

“Hi Tendou-san.”

The corner of Tendou’s lip curled up, the only signal that he’d heard Hinata. Instead he kept his eyes fixed on the movement of the court below him, eyes narrowed “Setter is going to give it to number 2.” Hinata blinked, jerking his gaze to the game below, just in time to watch as the Mujinazaka setter, leaning as if he was going to send the ball towards Kiryuu, instead rocketing the ball towards the middle blocker with spiky hair. Suna and Osamu were there to block though.

“How’d you know that?” Hinata gaped at him, Tendou still tracking motion on the game below. He didn’t turn until Mujinazaka called a time out, giving Hinata a narrow eyed stare.

“Y’know~” Tendou hummed, tipping his head so his temple almost rested on his knees, looking at Hinata sideways. “I don’t scare very easily.”

Hinata blinked, not understanding. Tendou tended to go off in many different directions during conversations, and while Hinata usually found it kind of fun, he didn’t really have the energy to play along today. “Huh?”

Tendou pursed his lips, pulling a knee back so he could support his chin on it. He looked like a pretzel. “Who knew the spookiest thing in the world was watching a monster fall down.”

Hinata only stared at him, waiting for him to finish his thought.

Tendou’s eyes flicked over his face once, twice, gaze narrowing slightly everytime he looked at the facemask. He blinked languidly slow “It makes the rest of us feel like weak little mortals.”

Hinata stared at him blankly, opening his mouth, but unsure of what he wanted to ask. “Mortal?”

But by then the game below them had started again, Tendou’s gaze fixed on Suna’s serve. “I hate how he does that right on the whistle.” He muttered to himself, head dipping forward between his knees as he leaned towards the railing. His knees were at his ears now.

Hinata alternated watching the game below them, and occasionally stealing glances at Tendou next to him. Inarizaki was up now by a solid seven points now. If they kept this up they should be able to take the second set shortly. Tendou kept muttering to himself, mumbling plays just as they were about to happen on both sides — fascinatingly, he was right about nine times out of ten. The only time he missed was when it was Osamu who would set instead of Atsumu.

The third time it happened Tendou loudly clicked his tongue and gave Hinata a flat look “They’re very annoying.”

Hinata couldn’t help the snort of laughter, feeling himself smile wide and real for the first time all day, he watched as Osamu took claps on the back from Gin and Akagi after they scored the point. “Yeah, they kinda are.” Flicking his gaze back, Hinata found Tendou watching him with a peculiar intensity. “Tendou-san?”

“You’ve never watched a volleyball game before, have you?” Tendou asked, eyes narrowed, corner of his lip tucked between his teeth.

Hinata furrowed his brow, uncomprehending. “Yes I have?” Tendou had literally played against him two days ago. Obviously he had “I mean, I play, and I’ve watched pro games—”

Play had restarted below them, but this time Tendou only had eyes for Hinata, face curling with humour “In person or on TV?”

“TV.”

“Mmm.”

“Tendou-san?”

The whistle blew and Inarizaki had taken the set. Hinata had completely missed the last play. Gnawing on the inside of his cheek, he stared at Tendou, waiting for him to explain.

Tendou relaxed into a normal sitting posture, legs on the ground, turning to look at Hinata “You’ve never watched a game from up here, in the stands before, live.” It was a statement, not a question.

Hinata frowned, thinking. In all the years he’d been obsessed with volleyball, had he ever watched a whole game from the stands? He’d never been able to afford tickets when there’d been pro games at the Sendai City Gym back in Miyagi. And his mom wouldn’t let him go on his own to college games. “I’ve watched a few sets during the qualifiers and during this tournament.” There’d been that first day where he’d followed Atsumu around as they went from court to court, sussing out their future opponents. That had been a near perfect day— he’d met Bokuto, got to see Hoshiumi play, laughed at Atsumu’s jokes. That was just three days ago now. It felt like an eternity somehow.

Tendou was smirking at him “Did you watch the game, or did you watch the ball?”

Hinata stared at him blankly. Sometimes it felt like Tendou deliberately spoke in riddles to make him confused. “Don’t you have to watch the ball to watch the game?” He also liked to follow certain players on the court. It was fascinating to watch Bokuto, Hoshiumi, Kiryuu, and Sakusa as they interpreted their own game, making feints towards the net, when they jumped at full power, and how they timed things. Something in his face must have conveyed that, because Tendou lit up.

“Ohoh, you also watch games like a little fanboy, hmm?” Tendou was grinning, almost toothily at him.

Hinata flushed, which just made Tendou grin wider, opening his mouth, looking like he was about to start shrieking with laughter. “It makes sense to watch the ball and the ace though.” Hinata grumbled, feeling a pout come on. There was nothing wrong with it, right?

Tendou tutted at him, darting out a hand and wrapping long spindly fingers around Hinata’s jaw, fingers pressed into the fabric of his face mask there, tilting his head to look at the court again. Hinata didn’t bother struggling, only blinked, flicking a glance at Tendou out of the corner of his eye — Tendou used his free hand to point at the court, so Hinata turned his gaze to the orange rectangle where the teams were lining up for the final set.

“No one ever taught you how to watch the whole game.” Tendou’s fingers tightened fractionally at his jaw “It’s kind of annoying how good you are without knowing how to see the whole court.” He leered “Like a dumb predator running on instincts alone.”

Hinata chose to ignore that last comment, “See the whole court?”

“Don’t just watch the ball. Watch what the players are doing.” Tendou said, fingers never loosening. They watched the first few rallies like that, Hinata trying to watch the whole court, see what all the players were doing. It was hard — his eyes inevitably kept wanting to naturally follow the ball, or track what Kiryuu and Aran were doing, but he kept trying. Watching how defensive postures shifted, depending on who was attacking. The approach of different attackers towards the net. Hinata didn’t even notice when Tendou’s fingers let his face go, only that he scratched at his chin under the mask and found Tendou’s fingers gone.

“Tell me who the Mujinazaka libero is going to pass to the next time he receives the ball.”

Hinata blinked owlishly at Tendou “It’s going to be the setter, isn’t it?” Tendou just arched a brow at him, looking back at the game. They continued watching in silence, Hinata almost forgetting his task, until Aran went up for a spike, the other libero moving into position. Hinata thought it would go to the setter, only he was in the back row and the— “Number 7.” And just like that a decent A-pass went to number 7, who set the ball for one of the middle blockers. Mujinazaka point.

Tendou was giving him a pleased little grin, rooting around in the pocket of his track jacket, pulling out a single wrapped chocolate. He pressed it into Hinata’s hand “Do it again.”

Hinata stared at the little ball of chocolate in his hand, the candy slightly soft from the warmth of Tendou’s pocket “I don’t know if I should be eating this, I had a fever last night—”

“A chocolate a day keeps the doctor away.” Tendou said sagely, lips curled in a smirk, knowing perfectly well that wasn’t the idiom. Shrugging, Hinata unwrapped the chocolate, pulling his mask away from his mouth enough to slide the chocolate between his lips. It was kinda gross, soft from someone else's body heat, but the flavour was nice.

Tendou gave him an approving nod “Now do it again.”

They spent the rest of the third set doing that, going back and forth, Hinata trying to predict a play just before it would happen, and Tendou doling out chocolates when he got it right. More often than not he was wrong, mostly only getting it right when he was trying to predict what Inarizaki was going to do. Eventually Tendou proclaimed “We’re cutting off the training wheels. Mujinazaka only.” And Hinata only earned chocolates for predicting their opponents' plays. He was getting better at it as the game wore on, picking up on feints and tells slowly but surely. The fluid motion of an attack formation. The shift in stance that meant someone was going for an attack, or a set.

Finally the game was over, Inarizaki had won and would be progressing on to the final. Tendou remained seated, even as Hinata rocked forward, intending to stand up. “Tendou-san?”

Tendou had his lips pursed, watching Mujinazaka gather themselves up off the court, heads bowed at their loss. A pensive look on his face. “There’s more to volleyball than just moving fast and hitting the ball hard.”

Hinata nodded, “Yeah.”

Tendou’s gaze slid over to meet Hinata’s eye. “The foxes are playing Itachiyama tomorrow. There’s lots you can learn there too. Don’t waste it.” Hinata nodded.

Licking his lips, Hinata cleared his throat as Tendou stood, hands stuffed into his pockets once more “Thank you for today.” Tendou paused, giving him a measuring stare “I felt pretty useless just sitting up here, like it was a waste,” Hinata pushed to a stand and was glad that his legs didn't feel wobbly. He bowed a little “Thank you for showing me the value in observing.”

Tendou kicked back his head and laughed, starling the Inarizaki fans who were starting to drift out of the stands. Hinata blinked up at him as Tendou reached a hand forward and gave him open palmed pats on the head “Fennec-kun, do you know how you can thank me?” He asked, grin going devious as he leaned forward into Hinata’s space.

Hinata gulped.

~~~

“Hey Shouyou-kun?”

Hinata looked up from his conversation with Riseki. The team was sprawled out in the common room waiting for the coaches to arrive for the team meeting — they had a lot to discuss for their final match against Itachiyama tomorrow. Hinata was allowed to stay until the meeting ended, but then he was under strict orders to go to bed early, otherwise Kita was going to bar him from attending the championship game. After secret training last year Hinata knows all too well that Kita doesn’t do idle threats.

As Tendou had predicted [“He’s nosey and presumptuous about touching other people’s things, isn’t he?”], Atsumu was holding Hinata’s phone in his hand, his face pale with confused horror. Hinata had to tamp down an amused smile. “What’s up Atsumu-san?”

“Ya mind telling me why this is yer lock screen photo?” Atsumu pressed a button and revealed the selfie he and Tendou had taken after the Mujinazaka game earlier. Tendou had his arms wrapped tightly around Hinata, his head tucked under Tendou’s chin. His facemask was pulled down to reveal Hinata’s grinning face. Tendou had referred to the pose as ‘Doki Doki Love Supreme’ and made Hinata promise he’d set it as his lock screen for a month, as payment for his teachings earlier.

Hinata really would have preferred to give him eggs, but Tendou was insistent.

Feeling his cheeks flush, almost certainly apparent even under his facemask, Hinata reached to swipe his phone away “You’re so nosey Atsumu-san, jeez.” He said, trying for haughty, but it came out more as a squawk.

Atsumu was still eyeing him suspiciously but the coaches filed into the room, dragging a TV on wheels so they could start the endless process of watching more and more game tape. Hinata tried not to breathe an obvious sigh of relief.

It was true what everyone said about Tendou Satori. He had a preternatural gift for reading people, and knowing exactly what made them tick. Though Hinata was beginning to suspect that perhaps Tendou-senpai was also a bit of a shit disturber, and knew exactly what he was doing when he requested Hinata make the Doki Doki Love Supreme pose his lock screen.

But hey, at least Atsumu was huffy and confused, rather than jumpy and uptight, just like Tendou-senpai had predicted he would be. No matter what anyone said, Hinata knew that Tendou really was kind, in his own very peculiar way.

~~~

Maybe leaving Hinata up in the stands had left Coach feeling a bit bad yesterday, because after breakfast the morning of the finals, Kita and Coach Kurosu pulled him aside. “Shouyou, this is the championship final, the one for all the money.”

Hinata nodded seriously.

“I think it’s only fair, after ya worked so hard that you get to be a part of it too.” Kurosu said gruffly, looking awkward. Hinata only stared blankly at him, his head tilting. He was attending the game, right? That had been the plan all along. Did Coach think he wasn’t going to?

Kita cut in “What Coach is tryin’ to say Hinata-kun, is that he wants ya on the bench next to him and Coach Oomi during the game—” Here he holds up a hand, as if he expects Hinata to leap forward or jump or yell or something. But Hinata’s still pretty tired, all things told “Even though ya can’t play.”

Hinata blinks, flicking his gaze between Coach and Kita, confirming if that was true. Coach gave an awkward jerky nod, staring hard at Hinata’s forehead.

“Oh.” Was all he could think to say.

“Oh?” Kita repeated, exchanging a glance with Coach.

“That’s a very kind offer, but I think I’d rather watch the game from up in the stands.” Hinata said, firmly. He had more Tendou training to do — not that Tendou was going to sit with him this time. Hinata figured he could sit with the other reserve players today, now that he wasn’t feeling so awful about himself. He still had a lot of things to learn after all and sitting up in the stands would give him the best vantage point.

Kita and Coach were staring at him like he’d just admitted he was in actual fact Princess Kaguya, and he had plans to return to his kingdom on the moon. Hinata gave them an eye crinkling smile “If that’s alright with you.” He amended.

Kita’s mouth was hanging open a little — Hinata had no idea what that meant, but it was probably like 100 points in his Kita reaction competition with Atsumu and Osamu — and it took him a moment to form words “Are ya sure about that Hinata-kun?”

“Mhmm.”

“But you don’t have to, yer welcome to sit on the bench with us — with the team.” Coach explained a little slowly, like he was talking to a foreigner that didn’t know Japanese.

“Yeah, I know. I’d rather watch the game from up high. I think I can learn lots.” Hinata said, almost cheerfully. He was kind of looking forward to it. He hadn’t gotten his constant urge to fidget and buzz around back yet, but it felt good to feel excited for something. Even if he wasn’t playing today.

Kita and Coach exchanged another look and finally Kurosu let out a breath, rubbing at his receding hairline “If you’re sure.” Kita was still looking at him dubiously. Like maybe he’d hit his head on the way down the other day — nope. He just had some learning to do still. It’s funny that Kita seemed so worried about it.

“Yup!” He said brightly. And that was that.

The arena felt different today, like the whole place was waiting with bated breath for a really good show. Fumiko had once described a piano concerto she’d attended by a world famous pianist, with the calm before the storm in the moments the musician stepped out onto the stage. Tangible anticipation she’d called it. Hinata hadn’t been there, but he bets that’s exactly what this feels like. Watching clouds of players roll in, waiting for the thunderclap of a spike to signal the beginning of a fierce volleyball game.

And that’s exactly what a match up between Inarizaki and Itachiyama was. Two well matched powerhouses, going for each other’s throats. Both teams had nationally ranked setters, with Inarizaki having a lot more balance in everyone’s overall skills between defense and offense. Itachiyama had the best high school libero, and one of the top aces in the country, rounding out their roster.

When Hinata and Atsumu had gone to go watch Itachiyama’s game on that first day against the representative team from Hokkaido, Hinata had marvelled at the almost magical way Sakusa’s spikes and serves seemed to spin off blockers and receivers. No matter the quality of a block, Sakusa made it look easy to tool even the tallest and most hardcore opponents.

“It’s his freaky wrists.” Atsumu said, flicking his own wrists to demonstrate “He can put the absolute most disgusting spins on every ball he hits.”

Hinata had tried getting a better angle on the court in front of them, wanting to watch Sakusa in action “So cool! Did he train to get like that? Lots of yoga or something?” That’s how Suna described his flexibility in his core — though Hinata realized now, maybe he was only joking around? Suna did that sometimes. Suna's ‘Slinky abs’ as Akagi called them — always bending sideways with a goofy look on his face as he did so, probably needed more than just yoga to get like that.

“Nah, freaky bastard was born like that. Lucky him.” Atsumu said with a harrumph.

Hinata had been hearing that a lot lately. Luck. How lucky to be so tall. How lucky to build muscle so well. How lucky to have a physical gift that made you better at spiking. How unlucky Hinata must be, to be born without any of that. At the time, he hadn’t let himself feel doubt. Hinata wasn’t lucky like Sakusa or Ushijima, but his friends at Inarizaki had taught him last year that you don’t need to be lucky to be great. You needed to work hard and try hard and to care about winning a whole lot. And Hinata Shouyou had all that in spades.

At the time Atsumu had slanted him a look, smirk creeping up his face as he bent low “Don’t worry about him Shouyou-kun, we have a secret weapon Mr. Freaky Wrists ain’t gonna know what to do with.” At Hinata’s questioning look, Atsumu had drawn back, grin going wide. He flicked Hinata in the forehead “You. Now c’mon, we gotta check out Mujinazaka before their game ends.” Hinata trailed after him, clutching his forehead, trying to kick out the back of Atsumu’s knees in retaliation. It had taken a solid minute for his words to sink in before Hinata had squawked a jubilant “ME!!??”, much to Atsumu’s amusement.

Hinata’s glad he doesn’t feel the bite of his guilt so hard today. It’s funny, just a little bit of guidance from Tendou had reworked his model for sitting up in the stands from something Hinata had felt signified a failure, into a task he could work on. A learning opportunity. Without that, he might succumb to feeling bad for burning all of Atsumu’s plans for revenge against Itachiyama into dust. Instead he looked forward to learning what one of the best teams in the country could teach him about the game.

Teach him they did. Inarizaki picked up only one set out of four in the end, no matter how hard they had worked to score, Itachiyama managed to dig what must have felt like two thirds of their spikes. Itachiyama was a well oiled, volleyball scoring machine. More so than any other team Hinata had ever seen, including some of the pro teams. Every ball that crossed to their side of the net came in on the predefined channels Itachiyama’s blockers allowed, each member an excellent receiver, with the ball — almost like a magnet — always finding its way to Iizuna’s fingers. Watching them felt like watching dominoes fall into place, always in perfect alignment to keep their momentum up.

It was funny. When people talked about Sakusa, they always talked about what an amazing ace he was. How good his spiking and serves were. That he could tool any block. Hinata had once read an article about him in Volleyball Monthly, about how he was leagues better than many adult players on University teams and in the V league. That he was one of the future leaders of Japanese volleyball.

And yet for some reason no one talked about how excellent his receives were. Akagi’s words from last year ring through Hinata’s head: ‘There are no spikes, without receives.’ It was like Sakusa believed this fundamentally down to his core. He might actually be better at receives than Akagi was — not that Hinata would ever say that out loud to his senpai. Perhaps that was why Komori was ‘the best libero’, because he practiced harder than everyone else, to not be outshone at his one job by one of the best aces in the country.

Balance, control, impact. Hinata had never seen anyone do it better. More than a few times Sakusa would manage a receive off of one of Aran’s spikes, with a perfect pass to the setter, and then leaping in for a back row attack. He was Hinata’s age, their birthdays only a few months apart, and he already played volleyball like a seasoned professional. Hinata could understand why Atsumu hated him a little. Sakusa was the best player on the court by miles and miles.

Hinata thought Sakusa was incredible.

A half giddy smile pulled at his lips under the mask. Hinata wanted to destroy him.

It was near the end of the first set that Hinata remembered his purpose for sitting up here with the rest of the reserves. Clicking his pencil, Hinata opened the borrowed — gifted, he wasn’t giving it back — notebook from Riseki, starting to take notes.

He drew out what he thought most Itachiyama plays were, making notes of how effective Inarizaki’s defense and responding offense were. He tracked ball touches from each player. Tried to rank their spikers and receivers. And after taking as many notes as he could stand, by the end of the second set, the one Inarizaki picked up, Hinata spread his focus to the whole court. In doing so, Hinata found he was not only predicting plays and attacks, but also starting to spot holes.

A slow to form block here. A receiver moving into position an inch too slow. Hinata found himself leaning forward in his chair, watching Atsumu intently, waiting for him to spot the holes, to use them. But even from up here, Hinata could see Atsumu was working himself up in frustration — over-relying on Osamu to try and chip away at Itachiyama’s defense to little avail. His serves had too much angry power behind them, his aim not as precise as usual.

Even bringing Kita onto the court to try and settle everyone didn’t end up working. Worse yet, Itachiyama knew Kita wasn’t as proficient an attacker as Gin, and fully ignored the lanes Kita could potentially attack from, incensing Atsumu further.

Hinata wondered if Itachiyama always played like this, or if this was a style of play and defense meant to slowly suffocate Atsumu throughout sets. Looking out onto the court, as the fourth set reached it’s halfway point, it became more evident Inarizaki was finished, Hinata could start to see what he could do to help.

To clear lanes by drawing attackers. To outpace their slower middle blockers — Hinata had after all managed to make the Immovable Hirugami notice him. To rip and fray Itachiyama with his speed until that’s all they expected from him, and then switch to slowness. Blending in. Control. Clever dinks. Rebounds. Take it easy. Choose the best attacks Atsumu can find.

Sucking on his teeth, Hinata thought maybe what Inarizaki needed to win this game, was someone who could act as an attention grabbing decoy. Something Atsumu would be more than happy to use, to help him tear open those gaps in defense. Volleyball was a team sport after all. And the best teammates help everyone else score too...

Hinata watched Akagi fumble the wicked spin on a Sakusa spike, capturing Itachiyama’s game winning point. It struck him then that if he was going to try and beat Itachiyama at Spring Nationals, he was going to have to learn how to handle those receives.

After medals were handed out, his team crestfallen as Hinata stood shoulder to shoulder with them on the court. Speeches were made. Laments were had. Final interviews talking about mistakes made. The team finally piled onto the bus that would take them to the Shinkansen so they could go home. Before they left the arena, Hinata had pulled a dour looking Coach Oomi aside, asking to borrow his tablet for the train ride. Oomi was a bit confused, but handed it over all the same.

Settling into his seat next to a withdrawn Riseki, Hinata opened his lap table, and propped the tablet and his notebook up, pressing play. He was watching footage from the Tokyo Inter-High qualifier finals, taking as many notes as he could.

When the time came, Hinata was going to be ready. He was going to go to Spring Nationals, and he was going to help win his team gold.

He just had a bit of studying to do first.

~~~

On the third day after Inarizaki lost the gold medal game to become the second best team in the nation, Hinata sat at home bored out of his skull. His mom had been horrified at the news of his illness and declared that Hinata wasn’t allowed to do any chores, ride his bike anywhere, or even walk to the nearest convenience store — though to be fair it was three kilometers away.

August’s heat is oppressive, cloying the air with humidity. Hinata wishes, not for the first time, that he was sitting in the well air conditioned gym of Inarizaki High with his friends. Even if he wasn’t allowed to practice. Being there would be far better than what he’d been doing the last couple of days — a fat load of nothing. But nooooo, the bike ride was too far, and there was no one to drive him.

His mom had stolen the front tire off his bike and taken it with her to work. Just in case.

He hated being so predictable.

Natsu had begged their mom to let her off from ‘Shou-patrol’, as she called it, to go see a movie with her friends from school. So Hinata was at home not watching daytime tv, not attending practice with the rest of his team like he should have been, and freshly out of popsicles because he’s been using them to regulate his temperature all day. He lay in front of the small fan in the living room, failing to cool the sweat beading on his forehead.

He’s on his third volume of a manga series Tendou recommended to him, when he hears the telltale crunch of bike tires on the gravel path leading up to his house.

Natsu had only just left. Had she forgotten the money their mom had left that morning? He doesn’t bother with going to the front door, instead sliding the inner screen door open to step out onto the veranda, squinting into the early afternoon sun. And then he blinks.

“Shouyou-kun, what the fuck is that fuckin’ bike ride? In this heat? How the heck didja ya do that all summer last year? How are ya not dead?” Atsumu is half draped over his handlebars, sweaty as Hinata has ever seen him, panting as he tries to air out his soaked armpits.

“Yeah, that’s way better t’do in the winter.” Osamu grimaces as he uses his already damp t-shirt to try and wipe away the sweat on his face.

“This fuckin’ tears it. I’m gettin’ my moped license.”

“Dunno how yer gonna buy a moped with no money, but okay ‘Sumu.” Osamu says dryly, hopping off his bike, and pulling a bag off the back carrier. He smacks it “Watermelon?” He asks with an eyebrow waggle.

They’re staring at him now. He’s been silent too long. Finding his voice, Hinata licks his lips “I thought you guys were mad at each other?”

Atsumu and Osamu exchange a look, before they shrug “We got into an argument last night about which one of us was going to visit you first.” Atsumu says, pursing his lips.

“Then we realized that was kinda stupid, ‘cause the longer we fought the longer ya were out here bored outta yer mind.” Osamu explains, shifting the bag full of watermelon to his other hand.

“And the longer we weren’t kickin’ yer ass at Pro Evolution Soccer.” Atsumu finishes with a grin, hefting up a bag full of their PS3.

“Besides if I didn’t come with him, I’d never get to see ‘Sumu almost die of heat stroke halfway up the mountain.” Osamu’s mean little grin is far more characteristic than the expressions he’d worn the last time Hinata saw him. .

Atsumu flips his brother off before looking up at Hinata a little hound dog “Ya gonna invite us in, or do we gotta die of exposure out here?”

Hinata snorts, feeling a fond swell in his chest for his two very gross and sweaty friends. The train ride back to Kobe from Ibaraki had been awfully quiet. Most of the team withdrawn, stewing in their loss. Atsumu and Osamu more than most. It was Hinata’s first time experiencing an Inarizaki loss and as much as it sucked, he’d somehow managed to turn on the ‘learning opportunities’ part of his brain and couldn’t get it to shut up.

He was noticing all sorts of little details around him, like the way Akagi had curled up in his seat, PSP held close to his face with his headphones in. Kita sat quietly next to Aran, doing his homework, every now and again flicking his gaze over to Hinata. Gin and Aran were staring resolutely forward, jaws tight as they probably replayed every misplay they thought could have done better. Atsumu and Osamu were surly and angry and not talking to each other or anyone around them. Usually on trains and buses, Osamu preferred to sit next to Suna, instead he sat in his own seat, glaring out the window.

Atsumu liked to try and sit near Hinata and Riseki, teasing them. Or find a spot to nap. He wasn’t doing either of those things now, instead curled up in his seat, headphones on as he picked at his fingers.

Hinata strongly suspected this might not just be a loss thing.

Suna sat in the seat in front of him, watching videos on his phone. Suna was a pretty observant guy — even Kita said so, he might be good to talk to. Leaning over the seat in front of him, Hinata plucked one of Suna’s earphones out, jerking Suna into startled alertness. He squinted up at Hinata, looking a bit sour at having been interrupted.

Hinata smiled, realized he still had his facemask on, and consciously crinkled his eyes “Hey Suna-senpai,” Suna’s eyes narrowed further. Suna had told him countless times to just call him Suna, guaranteeing Hinata will keep affixing a senpai for as long as they both shall live, “Can I ask you a question?”

Suna hmphed, settling into his armrest to give Hinata a thoughtful stare “I doubt I could stop you.”

Hinata laughed, leaning his face closer and pitching his voice to a whisper “This isn’t normal, is it?”

Suna raised a brow.

Hinata jerked a thumb, gesturing at the whole team “There’s game loss mad-sad, and then there’s whatever this is.”

Suna pursed his lips, glancing across the aisle where Gin and Kosaku were drawing into an uncomfortable sleep. “We didn’t just lose a game, Gremlin-chan.” And then he turned, pointedly putting his earphones back in, done with the conversation.

Hinata thought about that and thought about that and thought about that some more. And then he got distracted by his volleyball notes. And then he got distracted with trying to cheer up Riseki and it was in the middle of that, when he realized that maybe. Just maybe—

Hinata had something to do with these feelings everyone was struggling to work through. They weren’t just mad-sad about losing. They all blamed themselves, just a bit. Not just for losing. But for letting Hinata fall. Like any of them had something to do with it.

Hinata briefly wondered if other teams blamed themselves when a player got hurt or sick, or if that was a unique Inarizaki thing. What was the word Fumiko had used yesterday? Martyrs?

Well. He’d have to fix that too. Maybe after he figured out how to fix whatever was wrong with Atsumu and Osamu first.

Though, Hinata kind of forgot that there was a reason he fit in really well at Inarizaki — because sometimes he had trouble remembering that not every problem was his to fix, and it wasn’t always his job to resolve things. Atsumu and Osamu had gotten into plenty of unforgivable fights over the years long before they ever met Hinata, of course they’d figure out how to manage without him.

They were brothers after all. And underneath all the biting comments and the rough housing, they loved each other.

Giving them an easy smile, Hinata gestured at the door “I mean, it’s no cooler in here, but I guess I have ice and aloe juice.” Atsumu and Osamu both hoot with relief, and Hinata gestures that he’ll meet them at the door.

As Hinata turns to walk back into his house, he misses the look the twins exchange, both of them silently agreeing to an armistice for now. For Shouyou-kun.

Hinata looks at them as they enter his house, a pleased grin on his face. If he gets to spend the rest of his exile with watermelon and visits from his friends, Hinata is pretty sure he can last until Monday when he can finally go back to practice.

And then just two shorts weeks after that he’ll be in Kofu for the Inarizaki summer training camp. The list of things he needs to work on is getting pretty long, and Hinata can’t wait to get cracking.