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Shinsuke Kita was observant.
This was a known fact by everyone on the Inarizaki volleyball team. A fact reaffirmed time and time again whenever he sent a teammate home for showing even the smallest symptoms of illness or for limping ever so slightly to comfort an injury.
In short, he was known to not be a risk-taker when it came to health and wellness.
So why, pray tell, was he allowing a very visibly unwell Atsumu to remain on court, setting wonky balls and diving seconds too late.
The setter’s lackluster performance went unnoticed by no one- even the coaches were shocked at how this very clearly unwell Atsumu had remained unscolded by Shinsuke for so long.
Though a quick glance at the captain revealed why.
His skin was 5 shades paler than usual, bringing out the light pink flush dusting his cheeks. Perspiration, more than what was normal considering the lowkey practice today, glued his fringe down to his forehead.
Well, that explained a lot, Atsumu’s illness went unnoticed by Shinsuke because the latter appeared to be in a strikingly similar state.
Which was also unusual. One would think Shinsuke would be observant and careful of his own health, considering how involved he was in those departments for others. Though, it’s not too difficult to chalk that up to Shinsuke being so delirious that he didn’t even realize his own poor performance. Then again it could also be that that team was currently at a training camp hours away from Hyogo and not much could be done in terms of going home and resting even if one was sick.
So they let it slide, the coaches not doing anything more than sending cautious glances at the two uneasy boys and telling everyone to not push themselves too hard.
It was unsafe, reckless, and by this point, Aran had had enough of it.
“Kita, you’re not looking too good,” he finally spoke up, voicing the teams concerns.
“Yea you look like shit,” Michinari added, turning his attention away from Ren who was practicing his serves and ignoring Aran’s glare.
Shinsuke blinked. Then once more, his eyes wide and uncharacteristically clueless and fully unaware of the rest of the team stealing quick glances in his direction
“Hmm, what do you mean?” He cocked his head to the side, “is that mean to be an insult?”
“No no!” Aran quickly covered, giving Michinari a side-eye, “You just look like you could use a break, maybe get some water and rest.”
Shinsuke blinked again, now growing mildly aware of the fact that the players on the court were not-so-subtly staring at him.
“Yea, maybe you’re right,” Shinsuke finally admitted, swiping the back of his hand against his moist forehead.
“You too, Atsumu,” coach Kurosu added, calling over to the wobbly setter.
“Hah?!” he exclaimed, “Why me?”
Osamu sent him a look that said ‘are you seriously asking that question, you dense idiot’ to which Atsumu replied with a look that stated ‘yes, yes I am.’
After a second or two of the twins having a silent conversation, Aran took the situation into his own hands and ushered the two visibly sick players out of the gym and off into the room where the team’s futons were set up.
“Alright,” Michinari called out with a clap, “Now that they’re gone I’m the only third-year left, so I’m putting myself in charge.”
“What about me?” Ren interjected with a playful smile on his face, signaling his offense was fake.
Michinari looked over to him and smiled innocently before turning to the rest of the team and giving them various things to work on.
Practice continued relatively normal after that, Michinari called out far more inspirational cheers than usual to make up for the loss of the teams two captains.
Though, his enthusiasm died down drastically within 5 minutes. No one paid much mind to this, them all being too absorbed in their individual practice or worrying about the missing teammates. But Rin, who was well versed in Michinari’s seemingly endless enthusiasm, couldn’t help but to worry.
So he discreetly called out for Michinari’s attention, sending him a questioning face and a thumbs-up as his way of asking whether or not the libero was alright.
Michinari shut a thumbs up back, attempting a smile which only made Rin more nervous. The libero’s eyes were furrowed, giving his eyes a rather sad look. The smile resembled more of a grimace, accompanying his seemingly paler than usual skin.
Rin hurried to his friend, fully intent on taking him to the room where Shinsuke, Atsumu, and Aran were settled.
However, just as Rin was 3 steps away, a desperate voice yelled ‘Akagi-san!’ followed by a hollow thump as a volleyball bounced off Michinari’s chest.
Silence fell upon the gym as everyone’s eyes widened, glued on the now floored libero. No one moved, even Rin forget how to put one leg in front of another as Michinari coughed and gagged helplessly, his knees and the plans of his hands pressed against the hard floor.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a splash alerted the gym of Michinari’s heaves finally becoming productive. The awful sound powered Rin back up, a new sense of urgency overcoming him as he knelt down beside his friend and brushed his fringe away from his sweaty forehead.
“Bucket! Someone get a bucket!” A coach called out to the team.
“Ok let’s get out of here now,” Rin began, lightly trying to pull Michinari uo.
The latter shook his head, his cheeks puffed out to alert that he was not done yet. His back arched suddenly, his chin tucking slightly into his neck as sick worked it’s way up his throat.
Just as he was about to open his mouth, a second-year forced a bucket under his chin, holding it above the ground as to not soil the bottom with what was already on the ground. Michinari would’ve given them a thankful look, but intense nausea warned him that now was not the time.
Instead, a loud gag brought a thick wave of vomit splashing into the bin, followed by a couple coughs.
“Water?” Hitoshi offered, using his left hand to extend Michinari’s water bottle to him.
Michinari hummed, lifting his head out of the bin to accept the bottle. He then took a mouthful of water in his mouth and swished it around a bit before spitting it back out into the bin.
After a couple seconds of Michinari swishing out his mouth, he looked over to Rin and nodded. The latter nodded back, standing up and helping Michinari to his feet.
They walked out of the gym together, Michinari leaning heavily on Rin and holding the bin near his waist. Their steps were a bit awkward, a result of the height difference, but they made it work.
Across the gym, watching this ordeal with uncharacteristically wide eyes was Osamu. He had been feeling a little off ever since Atsumu had left, but chalked it up to nerves. It wasn’t unusual for Osamu to see Atsumu sick or hurt and feel the same symptoms, his mother called it a twin thing, but the severity of the symptoms were abnormal. And Michinari falling ill only added to the idea that maybe he wasn’t imagining the nausea churning in his gut and the excess saliva in his mouth.
“Are you okay, ‘Samu?” Rintarou asked, his hands shoved in his jacket pocket and voice deadpanned. It wasn’t that he wasn’t concerned for Osamu’s wellbeing, he just didn’t like expressing it.
“Mn-mn,” Osamu hummed in a negatory response, not feeling comfortable enough to open his mouth.
“Ok… um… do you wanna uh step outside or to where the other sick people are?”
Osamu shrugged, bringing a fist up to his mouth to stifle a burp.
“How about outside, I think air would be nice,” Rintarou stated, tugging at his own shirt collar to cool off his uncomfortably hot torso.
Osamu nodded, turning towards the large door to the outside and walking over slowly, Rintarou keeping pace slightly behind. The coaches ignored them, considering what had just happened moments ago, stopping two people from leaving to get air was a bad idea.
They only took two steps into the green grass outside before a loud retch forced its way out of Osamu. Rintarou looked over with wide eyes as Osamu slapped a hand over his mouth.
“You should probably,” he paused to gulp down his own nausea, “just let it out.”
Osamu looked over to Rintarou before nodding and removing the hand from his mouth. Saliva dripped out as Osamu leaned forward and let his mouth fall open.
A couple feet away, Rintarou was beginning to lose the battle with his own stomach. Instead of standing up like Osamu, Rintarou was crouched down, leaning over his knees which were pressed tightly against his chest. The position did nothing to help his nausea, the pressure actually only served to make him feel more sick.
Osamu lost it first, a sharp gag pressed against his stomach and forced out a small wave of vomit. The sound of it sent Rintarou over to edge, a much thicker wave splashing onto the grass between his feet.
“You’re sick too?” Osamu sputtered out before his body had a chance to revolt once more.
“No,” Rintarou commented sarcastically just before another heavy wave forced it’s way out of his mouth.
Osamu quickly turned his head away from Rintarou, seeing his friend get so violently ill didn’t do anything to help his situation.
“Poor Ojiro,” Osamu whispered-- if he and Rintarou were this sick he could only imagine how bad Shinsuke and Atsumu had it.
--
Atsumu curled into the bucket on his lap, coughing harshly in an effort to clear his throat from the acidic vomit clinging along its edges. Aran rubbed between his shoulder blades, warily eying Shinsuke who was sitting in a chair across the room unnaturally still.
A loud retch from Atsumu and the sound of liquid splashing in the bottom of the bucket stole Aran’s attention before he had a chance to ask if Shinsuke needed a bucket as well.
Atsumu groaned, hugging the plastic bin even closer to himself and coughed up another wave.
Aran winced in sympathy, not knowing what else to do other than continue to rub circles onto Atsumu’s back.
Across the room Shinsuke slowly stood up, his eyes containing their usual wideness and empty stare.
Aran didn’t think much of it.
He should have.
Without noise, Shinsuke leaned forward and opened his mouth. After one silent retch and a back arch, a wave of sick fell onto the floor.
It was so quiet that Aran didn’t even hear, not until Ren and Michinari walked through the door and pointed it out.
Aran groaned, Michinari laughed dryly, Ren whimpered, Atsumu coughed, Shinsuke threw up another wave.
“Rag. I’ll get a rag,” Ren informed, leaving the room.
“How many more?” Aran asked Michinari as the latter sat down.
Michinari shrugged, “Osamu and Rintarou looked kinda shitty but I did just puke on the floor so it’s hard to say.”
Aran nodded. Best situation was they caught whatever was going around early enough to keep it between the current people in the room. Worst situation was everyone got it-- an unlikely situation but one to consider nonetheless.
Ren returned, moist rag, cup of water and bucket in hand, and walked over to Shinsuke.
“Take a seat,” he commanded gently, guiding Shinsuke to a sitting position and handing him a bucket.
Shinsuke’s eyes were glazed with fever, he was far out of it and didn’t seem to be coming back any time soon. Ren set the glass next to him, making sure the latter saw it before walking over to Aran.
“How long has Atsumu been like that?” He asked as Atsumu spit out another wave.
“Why are you talking like I’m not even here?” Atsumu exclaimed with overexaggerated offense.
“You don’t seem to be in a situation to have a conversation,” Ren pointed out.
“How dare y-” a burp cut Atsumu off, forcing him to hang his head over the bucket once more.
Michinari laughed at him before his own nausea spiked and forced him over his bucket once more.
“He threw up in the hall on the way here,” Aran answered Rin’s earlier question, “been like this since. Shinsuke got sick just before you got here.”
Ren let his head fall back.
Today was going to be a long day.