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BANG!
“EVERYBODY FREEZE!” The masked man shouts, shooting his gun into the air. The bullet causes plaster dust to rain down on the students of Aoba Johsai high school. Everyone screams, boys and girls alike, the only thing keeping them from panicking and running being their self-preservation skills. “I SAID FREEZE! GET ON YOUR KNEES AND FREEZE!”
“Iwa-chan” Oikawa whispers, face white with fear. Hanamaki and Matsukawa have already dropped onto their knees, pulling down some frozen first years, too scared too move. Well isn’t this awesome ? Iwaizumi thinks. If they didn’t have that practice exam today, then maybe he and the rest of the third years wouldn’t of hurried so much and then they wouldn’t be in this anyway- they’d only be observers. One of the random first years at the side of the corridor has a wet spot growing in the crotch of his pants.
Iwaizumi is quick to shove Oikawa onto the ground as the gunman spins around, pointing the gun at anyone who’s still standing. The two other men are holding crowbars with knives duck-taped onto the end, a crude but deadly weapon.
Before he could follow his best friend onto the ground, he feels something cold on the back of his head. He grits his teeth and suppresses the feer that rises in him. All of a sudden, the whole hallway becomes quiet. Iwaizumi feels something hot brush against his ear.
“I said ” the man whispers. “FREEZE!” The shout rings in his ear, left eye twitching minisculely. Regardless of the fact that there’s a gun pressed to the back of his head, he wrinkles his nose with disgust. Doesn’t he brush his teeth? Well, criminals probably don’t have to worry about that, do they.
His hands curl into fists. Well, isn’t this just his luck? Without moving his head, he searches the crouching, sitting, and kneeling mass of people in the hall. They’re lucky it’s the beginning of the school day and class hadn’t actually started yet- there’s a lot less people than there’d usually be.
Oikawa, of course, is the first one he sees. He’s in a kneel, with a hand on the ground to help balance or adjust himself after Iwaizumi pushed him down. His eyes are blown wide, mouth open. Hanamaki and Matsukawa are in similar states, blinking owlishly at the ace. He sees Kunimi and Kindaichi out of the corner of his eyes, the first years huddled close together on the ground. Koutani looks like he’s going to start growling an moment now, Yahaba hand in a vice-like grip on his shirt sleeve.
“Now, Hajime” the man says, lightly tapping the muzzle of the gun against his head. Iwaizumi’s blood freezes and a shiver goes through his body. How does he know his name? “Tell me your full name.”
“Iwaizumi Hajime.”
“Iwaizumi...hmm... That’s an alright name.”
“Then what’s better?” He instinctively snaps back. The clicks of the shoes of the other two men walking stopped the moment the first syllable left his mouth. The man behind him sighs.
“I saw you walking with your friends earlier. We don’t need this many hostages.” The man snaps his fingers. “You two- take the rest of the kids out. All friends of Hajime, stay.” Iwaizumi grits his teeth. The voice is becoming more and more familiar, easier to recognize now he’s gained the knowledge that this man knows his name.
“Go! You heard the boss” one of the men say and now Iwaizumi is confident . That man, he isn’t a native Japanese speaker. He watches students he know and doesn’t know exit. He moves his gaze to Kunimi, a silent conversation going on between the two. Please he tries to make his face tell, but how the hell does one do that? Telepathy? He thinks Kunimi understands, at some level, because he’s pulling Kindaichi up and the two of them are out. With some relief, he realizes that not everyone on the team is here- the only ones who still remain are Oikawa, Matsukawa, Hanamaki, Yahaba, and Koutani. From the distance, the sound of sirens grow louder and louder.
“Tourner (turn around)” the man commands“regarde moi. (Face me).” By the time Iwaizumi has turned around, the man has taken his mask off. He’s tall, wearing a casual suit, hair dirty blond, eyes slightly almond shaped and the same green as Iwaizumi’s eyes. The same eyes his mother has. “ Souviens-toi de moi( Do you remember me)?”
“Archambeau” Iwaizumi grits. The gun is pressed to his forehead. The half-french, half-japanese man cocks his head.
“Vous pouvez parler français- alors parle-le ( you can speak french- so speak it) .” Iwaizumi narrows his eyes.
“No” He growls, ignoring the fear of the knowledge and sight of a gun pressed against his forehead, something that can end his life in less than a second. If there’s one thing that truly scares him, it’s death. Even though religion explains what happens after it, there’s no scientific evidence to prove so. No one actually knows what happens when your dead. “Now what the hell are you doing here? You left Japan year ago, now what are you doing back? Mom doesn’t want you here, you know that.”
“Je sais, je sais ( I know, I know )” Archambeau says, syllables naturally rising and falling like the notes to a song. He places his free hand on Iwaizumi’s right shoulder, his mind weirdly rationalizing that a psycho like him doesn’t deserve a hand as cozily warm as him. “But you know why I left in the first place.”
Haru Archambeau, the son of a Frenchman who came to Japan with hopes of joining their infamous yakuza and making it far. The Frenchman ended up falling in love with the daughter of the kumicho of the yakuza he was planning on joining and she left that life to live with him. They only had two kids, and they were twins- a boy and a girl. Haru Archambeau who took after his father, and Hana Archambeau, Hajime’s mother, who took after her mother.
He remembers when he used to love uncle Haru- he was an amazing uncle. He was fun loving, he babysat Hajime, spoke with him in French when his mom didn’t feel like it (little him found being bilingual so cool), and he favored him older his older brother. But there was also the little things that little Hajime didn’t really notice at first: he would try and keep him from going to Oikawa’s house; he would teach his self-defense; he gave him a toy knife for a “secret” birthday present and “playtime” would be them playing “mobs”, which was basically him and his uncle pretending to be mafia.
Anyone else could see where this was going.
And then it all came down when he was seven. His uncle tried to kidnap him. He wanted to move to Europe to join le Milieu, which is basically the French yakuza or mafia or whatever. And he wanted to quickly become a leader of a local branch or something. He didn’t want to be tied down by marriage but he wanted an heir anyway. So rather than, he doesn’t know- adopt , his uncle wanted to take Hajime and take him to France with him to become his son.
His mom called the police but Archambeau must of made plans already, because the police and airport security couldn’t track him down. It was assumed he managed to make it to France after hearing Iwaizumi’s story.
And he never heard from the man again…
Except now.
And then almost casually, the gun is lowered and he hears a bang go off and there’s a slight feeling at his shoulder, he hears screams and yells from his friends. The sounds of their voices and the shot echo through the room. There’s something warm at his shoulder. He looks down to his shoulder and the fear spikes through him because he got shot . The blood is quickly spreading through the cloth over his left shoulder, seeping into the layers underneath, spreading and crawling down his sleeve.
“Shoulder wounds bleed out quickly but the shot probably put you in shock- that’s why you barely feel any pain” Archambeau continues. “Now, Hajime. You’re going to come with me or else I’m going to kill you and leave your friends traumatized for life. Those two look younger than you. Do you really want to leave your younglings with nightmares of you being shot twice in front of their eyes for being a stubborn chien ? Now come along, my dear nephew.”
He doesn’t turn around to see what looks must be on his friends faces. Because he has a plan.
The two henchmen stay behind, probably to make sure the other don’t try a suicidal rescue mission. The sirens are loud now and Iwaizumi doesn’t doubt that Archambeau will make it out; he has a hostage.
His steps, they start to feel weak. Have you ever accidentally cut yourself against a too sharp piece of metal that happened to be jutting out and you don’t know what happened until the blood is trailing down your arm? That’s what he feels, except he knows very well that he’s been shot. The only thing that keeps him from falling as he starts to feel a bit light headed because whatever amount of oxygen he’s trying to keep him isn’t enough, is Archambeau.
“Why are you still intent on taking me?” He hisses. Archambeau gives him a side look as they go down the stairs. There’s no one in the classrooms as he looks in the windows on the doors. They must have evacuated the whole building. The sound of sirens grow louder and as they do, Archambeau relaxes a little bit. He’s planning something Iwaizumi thinks. But so am I. He really did try to make me too much like him .
“France, of course” Archambeau replies. “As we had planned before, I got myself a really nice position. I’ve earned myself the favor of our leader and he’s been really excited about meeting you.” Then his mouth twitches down. “Although, he wasn’t too eager about the fact that I had to forcibly take you to make you see that I’m right and that you’ll be better in the country you belong to rather than this horrible place.”
“I like Japan, and you liked it too” Iwaizumi says and his shoulder is really starting to burn. Not the muscle burn you get after working out too much or trying out the heavier weights, but an actual fire-like skin charring burn feeling.
That’s not good. That’s really not good.
“And I don’t want you getting in trouble” Iwaizumi manages. He doesn’t. He loves his uncle, even after all the horrible things he has done. Family is family. “If I make it out of this alive and you somehow manage to not take me, if you manage to escape to France without the Japanese police catching up to you, then I promise, I will visit you as much as I can. You probably have a way to contact me if you know what school I go to.”
“School was easy” Archambeau replies, and there’s a look of disgust on his face. “The newspapers are accessible to the public. And don’t think I’m going to let you get away that easily.” Iwaizumi smirks.
In the movies, you always wonder why someone is being dramatic at the moment. It’s actual not that unrealistic. It’s distracting to the captor. It keeps their mind on one train of thought instead of another.
And Iwaizumi is an ace. He’s not what his uncle, his mom, his father made him to be. He’s who he decided he wants to be, taking what he wants and using it to shape himself for the better.
Round one: spit into Archambeau’s eye. Result: a tight squeeze of the eyes and raising hand instinctively to wipe it. Success.
Round two: get lucky. Kick Archambeau in the stomach. Result: a punch to the head. Luck is successful, as the henchmen are running down the stairs all of a sudden, crowbarless, and all of a sudden, there’s the crowbars, flying through the air. It hits one of them on the back of the head, knocking him down, and the other man dodges it, sliding down the railing. B+
Round three: try to take the gun. Result: Failure. Luck also turns on him, obviously.
A dizzy spell hits him as he tries to jump for the gun, instead another bang goes off. He manages to knock into Archambeau at least, and after a brief two seconds of being supported by someone, he’s dropped to the ground, head light bouncing on the ground, injured shoulder hitting the ground first, making the pain spike.
“Iwaizumi-san!” Kyoutani says and he never thought there’d be a day when he’d hear the wing spiker sound scared. He’s rolled onto his back and then being propped up. He grapples for something to support him and he’s met with Kyoutani’s t-shirt to aid him. He coughs and something wet passes through his mouth. He looks down and that’s why it hurts so much .
Screw going to France. Screw all his hopes and dreams too because the amount of blood that has spread from his stomach doesn’t look good.
“IWA-CHAN!” He hears Oikawa shout from somewhere in the far distance. The stupid man child. He thinks Kyoutani is yelling something. He tilts his head and it feels like its moving through molasses. He sees Hanamaki’s back, the teen pushing a door open and noises grow louder and it’s so bright past that door.
“Kyoutani” he weakly manges. “Y’ve been a g’d kouhai.” His mouth also doesn’t like the thoughts of moving. Well that sucks.
“Shut up” the blurry-faced teen says.
“That’s right” Iwaizumi sighs and he closes his eyes, head lolling against his kouhai’s arm. According to scientists, when someone dies, the last of their senses to give away is their hearing. They might have their eyes open but they won’t see. Their skin can be burning but they won’t feel. Yet, they will be able to hear everything.
It’s true. And it’s tragic. And it’s scary. What comes with death? What comes after life? Are you even aware of your death? If all your sense cut off, what happens? Human consciousness is argued by many to be a complex illusion. Once he’s cremated, once the chemicals in his brain are no more, what is he? Is he going to be nothing? Or will the screams of his friends scream eternally through his head?
“Kageyama?”
The team are watching the setter. For some reason, rather than putting his phone back in his bag and leaving the club room to go to the gym for practice, he’s just standing there, face turning pale.
“Oi- Bakageyama” Hinata commands, having his hand in front of his face. “What happened?” Kageyama blinks. They watch him look back down at his phone, and then, have his eyes brighten with tears, one of them pooling enough to trail down his cheek.
“Kindaichi just texted me for the first time in years” Kageyama says “I didn’t know he still had my number.” Suga’s face narrows in anger. Asahi puts a hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“Why? What did he do? Is he threatening you or something?” Suga growls. They all know Kindaichi and Kunimi. They all know what happened at the prefecturals in his third year of middle school. He told them himself of they had treated him, knowing that he hadn’t been treated well but finding no problem with it. As long as they got to the ball.
“Iwaizumi-senpai was always nice to me” Kageyama breaths. “Th-th-there...there was a” he swallows. The unnatural breaks in his speaking just makes everything more tense “there was an attempted kidnapping. At Aoba Johsai. Iwaizumi-senpai was shot twice. They don’t know if he’s going to live of not.”
Kageyama sits out of practice that day. He sits on the sideline, texting Kindaichi. When Hinata asks what they’re texting about, there’s a small smile on Kageyama’s face. And it’s not scary. It’s not a big one, just the smallest shift of the left corner of his mouth up.
“We’re talking about Iwaizumi-senpai” he replies. “He’s not doing well but...we all want him to make it.”
Iwaizumi lived through the night. He flat-lined three times: one in the ambulance as they drove over the mountain to get to the closest hospital, and second in the hospital. It was only Kyoutani who was allowed to come in the ambulance with him, since he was the one who somehow managed to carry the ace out the school doors, to make the students and teachers standing there go silent with shock from the amount of blood coming out of the student. And Kyoutani also wouldn’t let him go, grip only releasing when he laid him on the bed in the ambulance.
Blood loss. A lot of it. The bullet in the shoulder went clean through and didn’t hit any bone, only tearing through muscle. The other bullet entered above his right hip, grazing his intestine before lodging below the ribcage. He had to have surgery for that. It was on the table that he hd his third flatline, but he made. He made it through it alive. Much more paler, waking up once during the surgery probably from the pain and because there wasn’t enough anesthetic in his blood stream (but he quickly went back under), with shadows under his eyes and a new scar on his body. But alive.
Karasuno came to visit. Oikawa’s and Sugawara’s personalities clashes but Daichi was able to quell that, leading to them trying to one-up each other in front of the captain. Kageyama introduced Hinata to his old classmates but the orange-haired decoy was quick to return to Yachi, Yamaguchi, and Tsukishima.
After one week, Iwaizumi woke up again. The wound in his shoulder healed really nicely and a nurse came in and moved his shoulder and arm through exercises to speed up the healing process through correct muscle alignment and also so the new filaments match the flexibility and strength of the old one. Oikawa was fast asleep with his hand in Iwaizumi’s.
It took another two weeks of physical therapy, cursing, and healing for him to be able to properly walk. And because he’s their indomitable ace, he was back on the court in a month, although he had to be replaced often when they had practice matches.
Ushijima had come once in the hospital to wish him a speedy recovery. Oikawa’s hatred for the ace increased and Iwaizumi gained a new friend and a phone number. And a succulent.
And when they beat Karasuno, even with Iwaizumi sitting on the bench for over half the match, he smiles. And when they lost a few months later, he smiled again. And when he went to college in California, became closer to Ushijima, got that internship with Utsui, and saved enough money to go to France.
He was able to visit his uncle. He watched over body, paralyzed from the waist down, and promised himself he’ll visit when he gets the hatred that rises over him under control. Then he leaves and meets Wakatoshi at the base of the Eiffel Tower.