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The first time Hitoka saw Kageyama smile, she felt breathless. The toothy grin directed at Hinata after a good quick struck her like an arrow to her heart, but the sight of it was so quick that she wondered briefly if she had imagined it.
Afterwards, her eyes often strayed to Kageyama and slowly, she started to note he liked to smile more than she had initially imagined. The corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly, his lips giving way to pearly white. Her heart thumped hard in her chest every time she witnessed it as something coiled deep in her belly.
It was strange for her, really. Only Kiyoko had made her feel the same way in the past. She had seen even Tsukishima smile genuinely a couple of times and, even though the rare sight surprised her, it didn’t occupy her mind for days the way Kageyama’s smile did.
Out of everyone in the group, Kageyama had always puzzled her the most. Perhaps it was due to their stark differences. She often wondered whether there was anything they had in common, but she was at a loss. They had exchanged words a few times, but the conversations hadn’t been anything significant outside of discussing strategy or homework.
Thoughts of curiosity and admiration soon blossomed into something deeper. After she realized she was conscious of him all the time, she was a little grateful that they didn’t spend time together often as she was always afraid of embarrassing herself, or worse, cluing anyone in on the fact that she had a crush on Kageyama.
Now they’re standing together in the kitchen of their summer camp lodging, about to start making dinner preparations. Her heart is thudding in her chest so loudly, the sound is a rumble to her own ears. She prays to herself it’s not loud enough for Kageyama to hear. Thankfully he’s standing far away from her, giving her enough space to calm herself down.
Hitoka observes Kageyama as he plucks the different vegetables—potatoes, carrots and onions—out of the grocery bag and inspects them closely. Afterwards he pulls out the curry roux box and turns it around a couple of times before carefully reading the instructions out loud. A smile slowly comes up to her lips. He’s just so earnest.
“Do you cook, Kageyama-kun?” she asks, taking the roux box out of his hands.
He looks thoughtful for a second before shaking his head. “I can probably cut the vegetables.”
“Probably?” Her voice shakes a little. Curry isn’t a difficult meal to make and she’s made it enough times that she’s confident it will turn out good every time, but if she also has to add Kageyama to the equation, she isn’t so sure anymore.
“I’m not a child, Yachi-san, I know how to handle a knife,” he mutters. She’s seen him frown enough times that she knows he looks intimidating, but now he looks like he’s pouting instead. The expression seems so uncharacteristic on him that she can’t help laughing, which seems to annoy him more.
“Sorry! I wasn’t laughing at you, I swear,” she breathes after her laughter dies out. “I’ll wash the vegetables and leave the cutting to you.”
While she washes the vegetables, she sees out of the corner of his eyes how he sets up a sort of vegetable-cutting station—he places a cutting board on the counter, inspects several knives before choosing one he’s satisfied with and grabs a vegetable peeler. She sets the clean vegetables next to the cutting board and stares at him, waiting. He stares back, questioningly.
With a smile, Hitoka hands him a potato. Understanding dawns on him and he smiles shyly, his cheeks tinting a bit pink. It sends her heart into overdrive and she has to look away, praying he doesn’t notice that her cheeks match his. Once she’s calmed down, she goes back to simply observing him. He peels all the vegetables slowly, with deliberate attention. Once it’s time to cut them, the sound of the knife hitting the board is irregular, unhurried.
They have enough time, but the impatience arising from her practiced ease at cooking tells her that she better concentrate on something else before she ends up taking the knife off his hands. She knows deep down she can trust him with this. When she started cooking, she made the same rough cuts in the vegetables that he’s making now, the knife shaking a bit under her unsteady grasp.
As she rinses the rice, she ponders if her mother felt the same enhanced awareness when Hitoka was learning that she’s feeling towards Kageyama now. In her eyes, Kageyama is a perfectionist when it comes to volleyball, but knowing that he’s willing to try something unknown outside of his perfected realm, even though he knows it won’t be perfect at first, humbles her. She’s good at enough things like studying or helping others to feel proud of herself, but she’s a coward. She wouldn’t dare to try something new and risk shattering her self-confidence. But then because she never took risks, she often felt like her life lacked excitement. Maybe she should take a page out of Kageyama’s book, and leave her comfort zone, too, once in a while.
After setting the rice cooker, there isn’t much she can do except watch Kageyama, but watching him makes her anxious.She worries that it might affect his concentration, so she busies herself by checking that there are enough available dishes and spoons for everyone. The thunks on the board become more regular and Hitoka relaxes enough to be able to look. Kageyama is already cutting with the same practiced ease with which she does. In ten minutes he’s already made the same progress that took her weeks—he really is a genius.
“Wow, Kageyama, you’re good!” she chirps.
He’s surprised at the statement and looks up, the knife on his hand faltering a little and nicking at his knuckle. “Ouch—” he drops the knife and inspects his fingers.
Hitoka rushes towards him to check on him as well and wants to kick herself. This is her fault, she broke his concentration with her stupid compliment and caused him a problem. There’s a little bit of blood coming out of the cut. If it was her hand, she wouldn’t think twice about it, but Kageyama always took extra care of his hands. If only she had decided to cut the vegetables herself—millions of reasons why this was her fault and how she could have avoided it rush through her head, making her progressively miserable.
“Quick, let’s wash your hand! I’m so sorry, this is my fault,” she moans, pulling him towards the kitchen sink to wash the cut.
“Yachi-san, calm down,” he says, and she realizes her breathing has a desperate edge to it and feels a little embarrassed about it.
“But—your hand, you hurt your finger! I’m really sorry.”
“Yachi! It’s not your fault, I’m not blaming you.” He shakes her by the shoulders and she finally ventures to look at his face. He looks a little sad. “Please, don’t blame yourself.”
“I mean, I made you cut the vegetables even though you didn’t have a lot of experience,” she murmurs. The thought that it’s still somehow her responsibility won’t leave her mind. She rummages in her jersey pockets and finds a band-aid. With utmost care she wraps it around the cut on his knuckle.
He smiles a little at the band-aid, inspecting the drawn cats printed all over it. She feels a little self-conscious, could it be that he finds it silly? He looks at her and sighs. “Listen, don’t feel bad. I wanted to try cutting the vegetables. This cut is just the result of my lack of experience.” He points at the band-aid. “I know why you carry these. There’s a possibility that you might hurt your own fingers, but you continue to do it, and I think that’s great. I wanted to try doing something I know you’re good at.”
A hot blush creeps up her neck and settles in her cheeks. Her defense mechanism instantly triggers. “No! I’m not good at all. I mean, I still cut myself sometimes!”
He laughs suddenly, a booming sound that comes from his diaphragm and paralyzes her in place. A seed of anxiety blooms in her stomach as she wonders if he’s making fun of her.
“Sorry, I’m sorry Yachi-san, I didn’t mean to laugh,” he says with a sigh as his laughter eventually dies down. “You know, I fall on the court sometimes. I botch serves accidentally, can’t always dig a ball and my sets aren’t 100% perfect. Would you say I’m no good at all?”
The question is really casual. She knows he’s not fishing for a compliment, there’s something else there—the intention to teach her a lesson, but her mind hasn’t caught up. She just shakes her head. “You’re good,” she mutters.
“Then you’re also good. Anyone can make mistakes.” His hand lands on her head and her anxiety dissipates as he pats her head softly. Now a different kind of feeling is fluttering in her stomach. She looks up at him, but he’s looking away, “You’re good at many things, Yachi-san. You’re humble, a good student and a great tutor. You’re way stronger than you think. People like you partly because you know how to take care of others… I wish I was more like you in that regard.”
Her face heats up with every compliment he gives her, she’s grateful he’s looking away because she’s too embarrassed to face him. “T-thanks, that means a lot, Kageyama-kun. Especially coming from you.” He looks puzzled when she says this, so she rushes to explain. “I mean, you’re also really good at a lot of things I’m not good at, like trying new things… I really like that part of you, you know?” Her voice shakes a little, and she’s hoping she isn’t giving too much away. He looks at her, eyes wide with surprise. A deep blush covers even the tip of his ears. Was he perhaps embarrassed? Her heartbeat quickens and she feels a hint of pride at the thought that she made him react this way.
“Wow, really? I mean, I really like many parts of you, too,” he says quietly as he steps closer to her. Her heartbeat picks up and she wonders if she missed something in their previous exchange because now there’s a weird tension in the air, and her skin prickles in anticipation as Kageyama reaches for her shoulder tentatively.
“What are you guys doing?” Hinata speaks up from the kitchen entrance, eyes huge and searching, like he’s watching their every move. Kageyama jumps and quickly steps away. Hitoka lets out a shaky breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
“Hinata!” She greets, beckoning to him. “We’re preparing dinner, but Kageyama-kun had a little accident.” She pulls Kageyama’s hand up to show the band-aid. Hinata hums as his eyes concentrate on the point where her hand is holding Kageyama’s wrist. Hitoka notices it and lets go quickly. Kageyama takes that as his cue to rush to the table to gather the already cut vegetables.
“You guys are funny.” Hinata chuckles. “You look like newlyweds cooking together for the first time.”
Hitoka’s heart jumps all the way to the back of her throat and she glances at Kageyama who’s petrified in place, sputtering. Hinata laughs harder.
“Anyway, I see you are still in the early stages of cooking the curry,” he says, gathering the uncut vegetables. “If I’m not intruding, shall we finish together?”
Hitoka and Kageyama share a quick look, but immediately glance away as if they’ve been scalded by one another. She nods quickly and clears her throat. “T-thanks, Hinata!” Then she turns away, grabs a pot and begins to fill it with water.
Kageyama marches up to Hinata. “What are you doing, you idiot?!” Kageyama hisses quietly.
“I’m helping you, you doofus,” Hinata whispers, elbowing him. “I think Yachi needs help with that pot.” He says a little louder and Hitoka visibly tenses. Kageyama is almost instantly next to her taking the pot off her hands. This wasn’t healthy for her heart.
“D-don’t pay attention to Hinata, he’s a dumbass,” Kageyama says, his voice cracking a little.
Hitoka bites her lower lip. “Oh, I know, haha. That thing about us being like newlyweds? It’s like a joke.” Her laugh is too dry even to her own ears. Kageyama smiles at her.
“I’m sure you’d make a great wife to some guy someday,” he mutters. “Not sure I can say the same about myself.”
“What! No, you—”
“Oh god, just confess already!” Hinata shouts. “You’re killing me here.”
Both Kageyama and Hitoka stare at him, stunned. Hinata rolls his eyes. “I mean, obviously Yachi likes you, Bakageyama. And Yachi, I seriously don’t know what you see in this clown, but it’s painfully obvious he’s got it bad for you, too.”
They slowly turn, looking tentatively at each other. Kageyama gives her a questioning look and it takes her a beat to wrap her head around Hinata’s words, but as soon as meaning registers, she smiles shyly and nods. So earlier when he said he liked many parts of her, he meant like this. He bites his lower lip, reaches for her hand and squeezes lightly.
“Let’s talk after dinner,” he says, before turning to Hinata. “And you, shut up and chop faster…”
“You shut up, stupid.” Hinata resumes his chopping, but the smile gives away the fact that there’s no heat in his words.
Hitoka can guess right away the unspoken conversation behind their words—a quiet thank you, and a loud you’re welcome.
After dinner, she’s fully prepared this time when Kageyama holds her shoulders and closes the distance between their lips. She remembered vaguely that someone once said that a first kiss tasted like lemon. Her first kiss tasted a little bit like curry, but she wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.
And when Kageyama smiled at her afterwards—a quirk of his lips, eyes crinkled and almost closed—she felt like she was walking on clouds. It was the most genuine and affectionate smile she’d seen from him. And it felt incredible to know it was meant only for her.