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Growing up is hard.
Doing it alone is harder, something that Tsukishima Kei had learnt the hard way over the years.
He was breathless as the school bell rang just as he blocked Hinata. As he blocked Hinata for the last time. His feet hit the ground, just as
high
flew and
ball then
the it
fell
down
down
down
down and hit the ground on the opposite side of the court immediately after, and that was it. It was over.
the end.
His high school volleyball career was officially over.
His high school career was officially over.
o v e r .
e n d .
Sure, it had technically ended two months previous when Karasuno had placed third at nationals, defeated by Itachiyama. Despite this, the third years had continued to stick around the club for their remaining days at the school - even Tsukishima.
because it wasn’t just a club anymore.
The pregnant silence in the gym was broken when Yachi finally stepped forward and blew into her whistle one last time, smiling warmly at the four sweaty third years on the court.
It was the last day before break just after exams, the third years had spent two hours practicing for their graduation ceremony but once that had ended no classes were held, allowing students the freedom to wander around campus - many choosing to partake in their club activities for one last time. Their juniors were in attendance, along with Yachi, Ukai and Takeda.
a final meeting.
Tsukishima turned to face Tadashi, who unsurprisingly had tears in his eyes. Without any form of warning, he flung himself at Kei, wrapping him up in a hug. He managed to catch them both, stumbling slightly, thankful that he’s somewhat used to these surprise hugs that had grown more frequent over the years through victories in matches.
Three years ago, he would’ve scolded Tadashi for such an act, but that was three years ago, and this is now. This is his last day of high school, his last day of normality before he’s thrust into the unknown that is adulthood. So for now, Kei allows his best friend to hug him, wrapping his own arms around him firmly.
There’s the distinct sound of sneakers on the floor, before another body slams into them, and another and another - it takes Kei a moment to realise it was Yachi, Kageyama and Hinata.
This wasn’t the first time the quintet had hugged like this, more often than not it happened during, before and after matches. This time was different though. This time it was
a thank you
a goodbye
a promise to stay in touch
all
in
one.
Kei could hear the telltale sound of a photograph being taken, and in a way he was glad he now had documentation of the bond that the group shared. They stayed in their huddle for a few minutes, before a cough was heard and they split apart.
Ukai and Takeda stood in front of them, proud grins on their faces. Surrounding them in the usual post-practice semi circle for when they discussed methods of improvements were the first and second years along with the new manager that Yachi had been training in for the role.
Tadashi stepped forward slightly, now only sniffling, ready to address the team as captain one final time. “Today wasn’t our usual practice, but thank you all for showing up anyway,” he began. “I’m not really sure how to put my feelings into words that will do justice to how proud of this team I am. You all put in your best effort and we made it to the centre court together.”
Kei, despite his emotional growth, still refused to openly display his emotions where possible, but it was hard to miss the slight amazement and awe at his best friend. Tadashi always gushed about how more open he had become.
How he allowed himself to make friends while putting effort into volleyball without the quiet resentment he had allowed to fester throughout middle school and their first year at Karasuno. Really, though, Kei thought it was Tadashi who had grown the most.
Being the only first year not in the starter lineup would’ve crushed Kei, especially factored in with his dislike for the sport due to his past. Tadashi was different.
Tadashi used it as a challenge. He didn’t allow it to deter him, and instead used it as his drive to improve until he had worked his way into constantly being a starter - and eventually captain.
He still showed his emotions openly, but he did so unapologetically.
There was no doubt in anybody's mind that Tadashi wasn’t suited for captain - he was kind and caring, observant and intelligent. His skill as a player constantly evolved thanks to practice, training camps and Shimada’s tutelage outside of school.
“You’ve all improved wonderfully and I’m sure you’ll all continue to spread your wings and fly - this team can make it to nationals again.” Yamaguchi nodded to himself, his head lowering slightly as he swallowed a lump in his throat. “I’d like to thank my fellow third years for their support and assistance over the last three years - especially our lovely manager, Yachi, who has helped us in every way. I’ll let our vice, Kageyama, finish up.”
Kei squeezed his eyes shut as soon as he felt the urge to cry. That could come later.
Kageyama stepped forward, nodding at his underclassman and his teachers. “Of course we want to thank Coach Ukai and Takeda-sensei for guiding us through each match and encouraging us when we fall. I speak for all past, present and future Karasuno Volleyball team members when I say we couldn’t fly if it weren’t for your aid. Please continue to support us all. Thank you very much!” Kageyama bowed, followed by the other soon-to-be graduates.
There were numerous teary eyes as they received a “thank you for your hard work!” from both team members and teachers, when suddenly a student popped her head in and alerted them all it was time to go home to prepare for the ceremony.
Kei’s stomach flipped and he wanted to scream as his body followed the crowd to the club room. It was all happening too fast, he noted, as he slipped out of his volleyball uniform for the final time. He gripped the number three jersey for the last time, an ache tugging at his chest as he thought of the first time he had held a Karasuno jersey - as number eleven.
better cherish your last time holding it.
He barely remembered Ukai coming in and wishing them luck, thanking them for their hard work over the last three years. How proud he was of them. How they had done well in every single match.
He barely remembered walking out of the club room, his locker now emptied, his nails digging crescent moons into his palms as he allowed Yamaguchi to lead him to Sakonishita Store where they got meat buns alongside Kageyama, Hinata and Yachi one final time.
(don’t think about this being the last time, kei, don’t-)
The world around him felt fake as his mother and brother fussed over him after he stepped through his front door, only feeling himself snap back to reality as he was bundled into the car in his dress shoes, white button up shirt and usual uniform black pants.
He had to remind himself to breathe as he stepped out into the moderately warm spring air of the parking lot, making his way inside the main gymnasium that had been transformed for the graduation ceremony. His mother had promised to take photos of everything, knowing that even if he didn’t say it aloud, Kei wanted to remember everything.
but what if he forgot without realising?
He nodded along as his homeroom teacher told him where to sit and when he was meant to stand, his eyes dancing around the room as he burnt every minor detail into his brain.
Anxiety clawed at his brain, snaking its way around his ribs and tightening until it felt like he might suffocate and die as he heard his name be called to the packed gym, he stood firmly as he accepted his certificate and shook the senior staff’s hands.
don’t mess up.
don’t mess up.
don’t.
mess.
up.
A breath he hadn’t realised he was holding escaped him as the stream of students pulled him outside, until Hinata latched onto his arm and brought him over to where their families were waiting - his mom and brother with open arms and teary gazes filled with pride, love and warmth. He stumbled into their arms, the true reality settling in that he was now an alumni of Karasuno, never again to wear the uniform.
“Kei, baby, I’m so proud of you!” His mother gushed as she pulled out her camera and Akiteru guided him to stand with his friends as photographs began. He lost track of how many had been taken, allowing others to drag him around where they wanted.
Before he could fully process it, he was bundled back into the family car and driven to Yamaguchi’s, where family and friends had gathered to celebrate their graduation. He nodded his thanks to every pat on the back, every hug, every grin and cheer as the mingling began.
It took a while before he could escape out to the back garden to be alone with his thoughts. As the night dragged on and people began to leave, he slipped through the back door while Tadashi continued to chat to others. He curled into himself on a deck chair, ignoring the cold that bit at his skin in order to think.
How did the last three years pass by so quickly? It felt like he was still fifteen, a first year at Karasuno preparing for this three-on-three match against Hinata and Kageyama.
Then their practice matches began.
The training camps.
The qualifiers.
Nationals.
Second year.
Training camps.
Qualifiers.
Nationals.
Third year. Training camps. Qualifiers. Nationals.
Graduation.
It felt unfair, that after all these years of Kei being told about how much of an accomplishment graduation was, all the emphasis that made it seem like such a big deal.
Yet here he was, alone in his best friend's garden, unsure if he felt fulfilled, sad or empty? It just felt anti-c
l
i
m
a
t
i
c
.
The ache tugged at his chest again and he wasn’t quite sure what to do about it - how was he able to feel so much yet also feel so numb, so empty? He felt everything, yet he felt nothing.
The last three years had been a blur.
Kei knew it wasn’t just him, it was something every student experienced, but it was overwhelming dealing with the stress of school, studying, volleyball and maintaining friendships. The stress gradually built up until Kei went through depressive episodes.
(he wasn’t depressed though)
denial denial denial denial liar liar liar liar
Pulling himself out of bed for school or volleyball was exhausting sometimes, but he pushed on anyways
because what other choice was there if he
didn’t want to
be a
d i s a p p o i n t m e n t ?
Maybe that’s where people found pride in graduating high school - years of slaving away, draining yourself and overworking endlessly until you were running on fumes.
It would all be worth it for the honor of graduating, right?
Now he would go off to college to do it all over again, to then be sent out into the working field until you die
It had gotten even later now, the sun long set. Kei didn’t move though. He just let the cold bite at his skin, wrapping itself around him and filling his lungs until he felt like he was suffocating.
He forgot how to breathe.
What was it Akiteru taught him?
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
and then he was able to suck in lungfuls of air again.
The cold had settled inside him now, burrowed deep inside.
What was his future going to be?
Did he have one?
How long would it take until he was happy?
Was he capable of happiness?
Would he like life more when he’s in college?
No, he’ll still be alone.
Uncertainty was awful.
Sometimes, he had considered giving in to the thoughts he kept private. Not that there was anything wrong with him. Just… maybe things would be easier if he wasn’t
around.
If he didn’t have to wake up hopeless, he didn't have to scare people away. He tried working on it, really, he did. It was so hard though. It was so exhausting though.
And it seemed (felt) like his best was never good enough.
(He was starting to feel the cold now)
It was difficult for him to really organise his thoughts. It felt like his mind was running in overdrive, leaving him to struggle with concentrating on any one task. He managed though. He had to.
He was shaking slightly from the cold (so it wasn’t just internal?), so he wasn’t surprised when he heard the familiar slide of the back door. He opened his eyes as light flooded the garden, casting a shadow across the grass as footsteps grew louder and closer until-
“Tsukki,” a hand on his shoulder, gently.
Yamaguchi.
(Tadashi.)
“You should come back inside, the others want to watch a movie. We’re all waiting for you.”
we’re all waiting for you
Kei felt himself tear up slightly at that. Tadashi noticed, and said nothing. He just knew.
Kei just nodded once,
twice,
and then Tadashi gripped his (frozen) hand as they made their way back inside to where his friends were waiting.
Graduating wasn’t simple. It was an ending and beginning. A hello and a goodbye. The start of your future, the end of your past. There was no set way to feel about it. You could be overjoyed that school was finally done, you could be in despair that school was suddenly done-
Because it creeps up on you.
You think you have time, waking up everyday and going to class. Getting homework. Getting assignments. Joining clubs. Learning new things. Meeting new people. Making new friends.
The thing is, though,
(“breathe, tsukki, it’s okay,”)
we don’t realise that we don’t have time.
All of the time complaining about classes, about days where you’re so sick that showing up to school isn’t even a possibility, it adds up. It adds up until showing up to school will never be a possibility again.
Until you become just a photograph on the wall for future students on the same path to observe in passing.
Until you become a memory for a teacher that will not forget you, will not forget the work you’ve done, the impact you’ve made.
Until the teachers become a memory for you, memories of who gave the most homework. The least homework. Who was strict? Who was lenient? Who could you rely on for a fun class? What teachers were trustworthy?
Tsukishima had always brushed off the thoughts of college entrance exams, of graduating, because “that’s so far away, I’ll think about it tomorrow.”
But now it is tomorrow.
And what are you meant to do when thinking about
it tomorrow is no longer an option?
Kei felt happy.
(bittersweet, but it was there)
Kei felt sad.
(he was accustomed to that, a permanent sadness)
Kei felt numb.
(did that even make sense?)
Kei felt everything and nothing, all at once.
It felt so different to be a graduate when you were used to watching your older friends graduate. Seeing, feeling, allowing your lunch table to slowly shrink in numbers over the years. All because you couldn’t quite fill those specific seats again.
Going from carrying bags of schoolbooks and equipment around to carrying a scrapbook of memories you weren’t quite ready to let go of yet.
It wasn’t all bad though. A fresh start awaited, a new chance to begin again. To meet new people. To make new memories. To do it all over again.
A cycle that repeats itself, not leaving any individual out.
Just another part of life.
And maybe, just maybe, the thought that everything would be fine crossed his mind as he settled down on the living room floor with his friends who welcomed him eagerly, all of them huddled under a blanket, popcorn in hand and bright smiles because they all shone so bright.
It wouldn’t be easy, but if he had his friends and his family then he could push through. He had to want to get better. (again, nothing to get better from, he wasn’t depressed obviously. just dramatic sometimes. just hopeless sometimes. just suicidal lost sometimes.)
Hinata. Kageyama. Yamaguchi. Yachi.
Shouyou. Tobio. Tadashi. Hitoka.
He wouldn’t see them constantly anymore, but they had assured (and promised) to keep regular contact through LINE. It’d be okay. He trusted them. He would be okay.
A hand found his (he looked down, it was Yachi’s), and he looked up to see a soft smile on her face. If it were anyone outside of their group, he likely would have pulled away immediately, but for once he allowed it. Who knows when they could all be around each other like this again?
(He had begun to warm up again.)
The ache in his chest wouldn’t be gone for a long time, but this was only the beginning. He had to allow this part of his life to end, for other parts to begin.
He was glad (not that he’d ever vocalised that thought) that the beginning of the rest of his life was starting with this group of people who had changed a lot ever since attending Karasuno, but had stuck together through it all. He was glad he got to be a part of their lives. He was glad he got to see them grow up.
“You’ve done so well.”
Growing up is hard.
Doing it alone is harder, something that Tsukishima Kei had learnt the hard way over the years.
In the end, however, growing up wasn’t that bad, not when he got to do it with people who cared about him.
Not when he got to do it with the people who helped him
learn
to
fly.