Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“How exactly are you so bad at this?”

Hinata looked up mutinously from his social studies textbook, pouting across the little Shiratorizawa dorm room at Goshiki, perched on his bed glowering at him. Hinata returned his gaze to his textbook, squinting down at the list of boring old people who died hundreds of years ago that he really didn’t care about. The dates were kind of making him go cross-eyed.

“Uh... I meant Minatomo no Yoshi...tomo?” Hinata hedged, watching Goshiki undoubtedly strain himself as he rolled his eyes hard.

“Minamoto no Yoshitsune!” Goshiki bit out at him, seething. “Can you even call yourself Japanese? How do you not know the name of one of the most famous samurai of all time?”

Hinata shrugged. “I always kind of thought ninja were cooler.” When was his social studies class going to focus on ninja? If he had to learn about fuddy old people who got into fights with each other over stupid things, couldn’t he have at least learned about ninja and their jutsu? Hinata idly wondered how based in fact Naruto was.

Goshiki was cradling his head in his hands, his own textbook and reference cards discarded on the bedspread. “How’re you going to get into a good college if you’re this stupid?”

A flare of indignation bloomed in Hinata’s chest and he quickly tamped it down. Goshiki was always saying condescending and rude things that annoyed the heck out of him. It was just how Goshiki was.

Before Hinata had left for the Miyagi First Year Invitational Training Camp, Osamu had pulled him aside during lunch to explain that the best course of action when living in close quarters with a roommate was to pretend to be a duck in water, letting insults and annoyances roll off your back.

“If ya can manage it, don’t fight, Shouyou-kun. Nothin’ good ever comes of pickin’ fights when ya gotta share a room with someone,” Osamu explained, looking pretty serious — he’d paused in between bites of food, so it was very serious for Osamu.

Hinata stared at his friend before wrinkling his nose. “But you and Atsumu-san fight all the time.”

Atsumu didn’t bother swallowing the food he was eating, merely spoke around it, a few rice grains flying out of his mouth. “Yeah, but it could be a lot worse.”

Osamu nodded gravely. “Ya only gotta keep yer mouth shut fer like, five days. I’m sure ya can manage.”

It had been three days since he’d arrived at this camp, and Hinata had gotten a lot of practice keeping his mouth shut around Goshiki and his petty insults. If it wasn’t ‘You’re so stupid’ here, it was ‘Have you gotten slower?’ there. Or the fact that Goshiki always needed to be around him, chiding him, or criticizing him, or generally being a condescending nuisance.

Goshiki’s latest focus was all about how bad at school Hinata was — apparently, Goshiki was the top inhis class and the next great ace of Shiratorizawa. Riseki had utterly betrayed Hinata at some point during his journey to Miyagi — because by the time he arrived, Goshiki was well aware of all the homework Hinata was expected to do. He didn’t understand why he had to have so much homework, even if he was missing a day of class. Goshiki was making it his life’s mission to make Hinata finish all his homework in the evenings after camp.

When Hinata got back to Kobe, he was going to have a chat with Riseki about his apparent concern that Hinata wouldn’t be “diligent in his studies” while he was away. At a volleyball training camp.

How on earth was Hinata supposed to focus on homework when he was playing volleyball against some of the best players in Miyagi!?

And so Goshiki-sensei was born, highlighting all of Goshiki’s worst qualities. The condescension, the pushiness, the loudness, the arrogance, the demanding. Which was really too bad, because Goshiki was kinda really cool when you put a volleyball in his hands.

This was honestly the worst way Hinata could think of to spend the night after an awesome, energizing day of volleyball.

With homework. Blech.

Hinata swore he wasn’t ever going to give Riseki another batch of eggs for as long he lived! ...Though Riseki’s birthday was coming up in March and—

“Have you listened to a word I’ve said?” Goshiki snapped at him, smacking his hand against the textbook.

Hinata grimaced, because he hadn’t, and now Goshiki knew, which inevitably meant that—

Goshiki tutted, shaking his head. “Getting tired of social studies then? Hmph, guess we better give your brain a break,” Hinata now knew that he and Goshiki had very different definitions of what constituted a break. For Hinata, it meant laying around, maybe playing a game. Eating a snack. Texting. Watching TV. For Goshiki, well— “We’ll switch to math. Hopefully, that will help you focus.”

Hinata groaned, reaching to grab his math book. If he’d known there was going to be this much homework during his amazing Miyagi volleyball camp, he might’ve just saved himself the trouble and stayed in Hyougo.

...No, he wouldn’t have. As grating as his evenings had been since he got here, he wouldn’t have changed attending this camp for the world. Everyone from Miyagi was so good! His mind boggled at this fact. Hinata couldn’t think of one other first year that he’d seen at the Prefectural qualifiers in Hyougo who was interesting at all. And Miyagi had six! —Plus some others, but the ones who really made an impression on Hinata? He couldn’t believe there were so many. He said as much to Goshiki after the first day of camp.

Goshiki got that high and mighty smirk on his face as he looked down on Hinata. “Miyagi has always been a powerhouse prefecture. Some of the best volleyball players come from here. Our top schools? They’d be number one almost anywhere else.” Hinata tried to nod his head to be like, cool thanks for the info, but Goshiki wasn’t done. “You see, even in the V.League, about 15% of players are from Miyagi, despite only making up less than 2% Japan’s population.”

Hinata could feel a profoundly boring lecture coming on, so he slid his gaze away, watching some of the tall middle schoolers attending camp do some passing drills. “Mhmm, that’s nice. I guess that’s why you guys lost then, huh?”

Hinata cringed as he watched the flash of hurt turn to anger on Goshiki’s face. He hadn’t meant to be that mean. He just meant— there was a lot of talent in Miyagi! You couldn’t win 100% of the time, right?

Like, there was Kunimi and Kindaichi, who seemed like more of a pair than even Atsumu and Osamu were sometimes. At least they liked each other most of the time. Though when Hinata had been introduced to them, he had kind of thought Kunimi was like a try-hard Suna, with his lazy disinterest that seemed to be all about making himself seem cooler. Kindaichi was kind of like an uptight Gin, now that Hinata thought about it.

So maybe they were more like Suna and Gin then?

Either way, Kunimi had tried to tell Hinata that he had no interest in making friends with some energetic weirdo outsider and Hinata had laughed in his face, startling Kunimi. If Hinata could get the actual Suna to like him in a non-ironic way, try-hard Suna would be no problem for him.

Kindaichi was a way easier nut to crack. Hinata just had to excitedly ooh and aah his blocks and spikes a few times, and Kindaichi had since decided Hinata was friend-shaped.

Despite this, they certainly had that easy camaraderie when it came to making fun of other people, taking delight in every instance of Hinata getting yelled at. Which happened a lot. As secretly kind as Hinata had figured Washijou to be during the summer camp, he, uh, certainly showed his ‘Demon Sensei’ face during the training camp.

Washijou seemed to take particular issue with everything Hinata did, big or small. His hands weren’t angled right on a block. His A-pass needed work. Was he announcing to the whole world where he was spiking? If Hinata didn’t get his head out of his ass, Washijou was going to make everyone run lines — an idea that, in particular, terrified Hinata. He might love running lines, but you could only accept so many threats from Suna before your self preservation instinct kicked in and you kept your mouth shut about it.

At least Hinata wasn’t the only eager beaver here.

Nothing quite beat the immediate connection Hinata made with Koganegawa. After the first day of camp, Koganegawa had gone around asking Hinata’s favorite question in the whole wide world — shockingly getting ignored for some reason Hinata couldn’t fathom.

Hinata watched Koganegawa approach Goshiki as he was zipping up his jacket to leave. “Hey, Goshiki-kun, wanna stay for a bit for some extra practice? I want to work on my tosses.” Koganegawa cutely flicked his wrists, a hopeful smile on his face. Hinata decided right then and there that he and Koganegawa were going to be best friends.

Hinata was almost relieved to see he wasn’t the only one who got Goshiki’s holier-than-thou stare. “No thanks.”

Never able to look a gift horse in the mouth, Hinata slid in between them, beaming up at Koganegawa. “I’ll stay, Koganegawa-kun!” He gave Koganegawa a thumbs up. “I’ll hit any toss you give me.”

Which seemed to be the exact right thing to say, because Koganegawa glittered back at him, giving him a tape-wrapped thumbs up back.

“Wait,” Goshiki cut in, frowning now. “You’re staying?”

Hinata and Koganegawa nodded in sync.

Heaving a sigh, Goshiki unzipped his jacket, tossing it aside without looking. “Fine, I guess I’ll stay too.”

Hinata grinned at him. “Wow~ Goshiki-kun, you’re so cool!” And then it was kinda funny, because Goshiki seemed to get hot, despite taking his jacket off, because his face got all flushed.

Goshiki shouldered past them, jaw clenched. “Shut up! I’m gonna crush you.”

Hinata just laughed, skipping after him, beaming at Koganegawa. There was nothing better in the world than a setter who wanted to practice endlessly with you. Koganegawa’s tosses weren’t anywhere near as good as Atsumu’s, but that didn’t mean Hinata cherished each ball any less.

Give him any ball, and he would hit it.

After the first day of camp, Hinata had considered five other members of this group interesting. It was on the second day that he added another.

After playing against Hakuba Gao once, Hinata was only slightly less inclined to be absolutely enthralled with anybody standing over 200cm. It also helped that Annika stood around that height too, especially with her fancy heeled boots on. He was kind of, almost used to only barely coming up to a freakishly tall person’s shoulder.

Which was why he managed to bite his tongue when Hyakuzawa Yudai walked into the gymnasium, needing to duck under the doorway so as not to hit his head. It was still a near thing.

It also probably helped that Hyakuzawa wasn’t very good either.

For as tall as he was, he wasn’t in the best condition. He seemed constantly anxious with little court sense. No skill to back up the physical attributes he was gifted. And he seemed to be down on himself a lot — fully aware that he was only attending this camp by virtue of his height and nothing else.

With the exception of that last thing, Hinata actually saw a lot of himself in Hyakuzawa. At least as he was when he’d first met Atsumu and Osamu. A skillset and a brain that couldn’t keep up with the rest of him. An inability to do the things he knew he should have been able to. Frustrated and hungry to keep trying and trying. Hyakuzawa was still here after all.

It was after overhearing some of the more caustic middle schoolers attending the camp talk about Hyakuzawa on the second day that Hinata made up his mind.

“His skillset just isn’t there, right?” One of them asked in a low murmur.

“I hope I don’t get paired up with him in the next two-on-two matches,” the other one grumbled.

When it came time for Coach Saito to announce pairings, Hinata had made the gross miscalculation of interrupting — he had wondered if Washijou had ever killed a man with his stink eye alone. Still, he persisted.

Hand shot up in the air, Hinata looked at Saito-sensei imploringly, determinedly ignoring the ferocious glare from Washijou. “Coach, can I please be paired with Hyakuzawa-san?”

Everyone stared at him mutely. Most of the players gawked at him, like he’d just asked for a big handicap in Mario Kart or something. His gaze didn’t waver on Saito.

Saito referred to his clipboard, throwing a glance at Washijou, who pursed his lips, before he nodded once, murder eyes never leaving Hinata’s face. Saito shrugged. “Okay, but we normally don’t take requests, Hinata-kun.” He squinted at the list. “I guess we’ll put Kuroishi-kun with Tsukishima-kun in your stead then.”

Both Kuroishi and Tsukishima had the audacity to look relieved, which Hinata thought was kinda rude. So instead he focused on beaming up at a visibly baffled Hyakuzawa. “Ready to win, Hyakuzawa-san?” Hinata asked.

Hyakuzawa looked dubious and only shrugged.

They started with passing drills, which was about when Hinata realized that he might have his work cut out for him. Hyakuzawa’s overhand passes were wobbly at best, and his underarm receives were about as good as Hinata’s were before he met Akagi and Kita. It was the fourth flubbed receive that had Hinata approach Hyakuzawa. He reached out, gently grabbing Hyakuzawa’s wrists and rotated them.

“You want to keep your wrists rotated just like this, to make the best surface for the ball to go THWAM against. See?” Hinata went to go retrieve the ball, standing a bit closer this time and giving Hyakuzawa a nice and easy underhand toss. “We’ll try this for a bit until you get used to it.”

Hyakuzawa only frowned at him but nodded. Hinata kinda thought that maybe he was looking a little bit more determined than before.

After a few minutes of those, Hinata beamed. “Repetition is the key to mastering control of the ball.” He felt a flush of pride at his own words. Oh man, Akagi would be so proud if he could hear Hinata now. He caught the ball in the air as Hyakuzawa sent it back to him with a whoop. “See! You’re already becoming good friends with the ball.” That sounded pretty cool, right? Kinda Captain Tsubasa-y. Like Hinata knew what he was talking about? Oh man, he’d probably make the coolest senpai ever.

Hyakuzawa stood up to his full height, giving Hinata a funny look. “Why?”

Hinata blinked up at him, spinning the ball in his hands. “Oh, uhm. Well, I think the best way to get better is through lots of practice and becoming familiar with the ball, y’know?”

Hyakuzawa frowned. “No, I mean, why would you want to team up with me? I’m the worst one here.”

Hinata pursed his lips, knocking the ball against his chin as he thought. How to put it into words? “Oh well— it’s kinda cool that you’re so tall. I’ve never played with anyone so tall before.” He hooked his chin over the ball, eyes going distant as he remembered the good parts of the Kamomedai game. “I have played against someone super tall though, and that was really cool.”

“So you only want to play with me because I’m tall? Then why are you helping me so much?”

Hinata looked up at Hyakuzawa blankly, not fully understanding the question. “Uh, well. You kinda remind me of myself? And I had a bunch of people help me get to where I am today.” He gave Hyakuzawa a long, slow blink. “No one gets better on their own. You can learn from anybody around you, though I guess sometimes it’s hard to remember you can ask.”

But maybe that wasn’t what Hyakuzawa was actually asking. Why did Hinata feel compelled to help him? And then a thought occurred to him, and Hinata couldn’t keep the excited twist of toothy smile off his face. “Besides, it’s way more fun when I beat you at your best.”

Hyakuzawa’s eyebrows were high on his forehead as he gaped at Hinata — yes, he too was a bit surprised about how wise he was starting to sound. Maybe spending all that time with Kita-san was finally paying off.

“HINATA!”

Hinata flinched, smacking the ball hard enough into his chin to make him bite his tongue. He gave Washijou a guilty look as the old man glowered at him. “Quit your gabbing and get to practice. You’re here to learn, not gossip.”

Hinata bowed, face flushed as the other players around him sniggered between themselves, amused at Hinata’s embarrassed misfortune. He threw the ball up for Hyakuzawa to go back and forth with overhand passes. After a moment Hyakuzawa broke the stilted silence.

“That’s all well and good, but I still don’t understand why you wanted to team up with me. We’re probably going to lose. I’m just tall.”

If he weren’t so upset, Hinata might have been embarrassed by the hissing shriek that statement elicited out of his mouth. Just tall? JUST. What Hinata wouldn’t give to be just tall, instead of just too small. He would never eat an egg again if it meant he could just be tall. Talk about all the ungrateful—

Hinata was so appalled he didn’t notice until it was too late that he threw the ball up with too much force, sending it too high—

Hyakuzawa leapt up, easily reaching the ball, tipping it back to Hinata — snapping him out of his frustrated fury. Just as quickly as it had come, Hinata’s tension left and he found himself laughing, sending the ball back cleaner to Hyakuzawa.

“I’d take being tall a hundred times over having the best serve in the world — you can always practice your serve Hyakuzawa-san, but being tall is the best talent there is when it comes to volleyball.” Hinata conveniently skirted around the issue of him being very naturally untalented when it came to height. “But if you’re worried about not being as good as the others, there is definitely something only you can do.”

Hyakuzawa looked intrigued by the malicious grin on Hinata’s face, so Hinata broke down his plan.

Which was super effective! Hinata was going to have to text Atsumu later to brag. Part of Hyakuzawa’s problem was that he was only focusing on how fast everyone around him could go — only thinking of others’ strengths, when his natural strengths, his height, was something only he could take advantage of here.

Watching Hyakuzawa take a measured breath and send the ball in a slow arc to the net for Hinata to set for him, Hinata had never been prouder. Maybe this was what Atsumu felt when he was setting and he perfectly figured out how to get a spiker back on track? Because this was an awesome feeling. Maybe Atsumu would have time for a phone call later and Hinata could ask?

Camp was amazing. Not quite as magical as Summer Camp had been — Hinata could really do with less homework in the evenings — but fun nonetheless. He found himself eagerly getting along with everyone in attendance. With the exception of one person.

As they stood in line on that first day to greet each other, Hinata had openly goggled at the tall blond-haired boy with the glasses in the Karasuno track jacket. Goshiki had explained to him that was Tsukishima Kei, Karasuno’s genius middle blocker. Another first year, like them. Tsukishima had actually managed to stop Ushijima during the match last month — shocking everyone in the stadium.

Hinata really hoped if he played his cards right he could convince Washijou to let him watch the game tape from that match. He was so curious! What exactly had happened? How had Shiratorizawa actually lost? Tendou had tried explaining it to him, but he used a lot of metaphors and likened it to a bunch of different scenes in sports manga Hinata had never read.

There had been a not-so-small part of Hinata that had been so curious about Tsukishima in particular, and by extension Karasuno. This was the team that made him want to play volleyball in the first place. The team of the Little Giant. And this guy with the persistently bored expression on his face was one of the best players on that team. This guy would have been his teammate if he’d stayed in Miyagi.

Hinata had maybe held out a bit of hope that he and Tsukishima could be friends.

Tsukishima very quickly tried to disabuse Hinata of that notion.

On the first water break after warm ups on the first day, Hinata had sidled up to Tsukishima, practically vibrating with anticipation. He’d wanted to meet a Karasuno player for so long, especially after they’d beaten Shiraotrizawa.

“Hi! Tsukishima-kun, right? I’m Hinata Shouyou, I play for Inarizaki in Hyougo. It’s nice to meet you! I started playing volleyball because of your team — well, because of the Little Giant who used to play for Karasuno back in... I think 2007-2010?” he grinned, tucking a hand behind his head. “If I’d stayed in Miyagi, I probably would have ended up playing with you, isn’t that kinda funny?”

That was when Hinata finally noticed the expression on Tsukishima’s face. A mix of overtired and disgusted all at once — like a hodgepodge of Suna’s and Akagi’s meanest expressions. Like he couldn’t believe Hinata would say something so unbelievably stupid. Finally Tsukishima scoffed, turning away. “No.”

Hinata sucked on his teeth, watching Tsukishima take a drink from his water bottle. So he was going to be a tough nut to crack, huh?

Tough nut, indeed. Hinata went out of his way to chat with Tsukishima as much as he could, trying his hardest to make friends. And he never had to try. Friends were just something that happened to Hinata. It was pretty frustrating all things considered. No one had ever made him work this hard to be liked — not Suna, not Akagi, not even Ushijima-san!

Perhaps Hinata should have reserved some eggs for Tsukishima? Maybe that would have helped?

“Nice kill!” He’d shout at Tsukishima after a particularly nice spike, and Tsukishima would grimace at him like he was human dog poop.

“Ooooh! You’re so good at blocking, Tsukishima-kun! Can you show me some tips?” Hinata would ask after getting stuffed. Tsukishima would heave a pained sigh and turn away.

So Hinata switched tactics. “Your glasses are super cool, Tsukishima-kun, I think it’s neat you have glasses especially for volleyball.” Referring to Tsukishima’s sports glasses. Tsukishima was rude enough to not even deign that with a response, only walked away.

Later, on the second day Tsukishima cut him off before Hinata could even offer an effusive compliment about Tsukishima’s excellent read-blocking. “Could you not?”

“Not what?” Hinata asked, tipping his head to the side, confused as to how that seemed to make Tsukishima even more annoyed.

Tsukishima clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. “You’re such a tryhard.” And once again, he walked away.

But Hinata didn’t understand. “What’s so wrong with being a tryhard?” Working hard was important! In volleyball! In making friends! In looking after yourself! How could someone ever phrase ‘try-hard’ as an insult? He tried asking the others.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree,” Kindaichi tried to tell him.

“He’s a dick,” Kunimi agreed solemnly.

Goshiki only scowled. “Why are you wasting so much time on him, anyways?”

Koganegawa was the only one who understood him, giving Hinata an encouraging thumbs up. “Keep trying, Hinata-kun. See if he wants to stay after practice with us.” Hinata gleamed and gave him a thumbs up back. He and Koganegawa were going to be friends for life, he swore it.

Every time Tsukishima rebuffed him, it just seemed to resolve Hinata even more to get Tsukishima to like him. There wasn’t a challenge in the world he wouldn’t try and conquer.

It was on the third day of camp that things finally came to a head.

They were playing a scrimmage, and Hinata was absolutely delighted to go up against Tsukishima. Practicing against great blockers always got his heart racing and made him more determined than ever to score that next point. He’d discovered during the Hyougo Prefectural Qualifiers that he really liked making the blockers pay attention to him. Really, really liked it.

Hinata had just managed to score a point off Kindaichi by blowing the ball away off his hand, giving Kindaichi a cheeky wink for all his ‘help’. When he figured he’d try the same thing on Tsukishima. Koganegawa put up the ball for him, a little too close to the net, but that was okay. Hinata found the perfect angle on Tsukishima’s fingers — his ring and pinky fingers not as stable.

Hinata reeled back, struck, and watched in horror as Tsukishima jerked his hand out of the way at the last second — the ball rocketing out of bounds to the back of the court.

Hinata’s heart was rabbiting in his chest, unable to comprehend what had just happened. He looked up at Tsukishima across the net, smirking at him. Hinata gaped. “D-did you mean to do that?”

Tsukishima tilted his head to the side, smirk going toothy. He looked like a manga villain! “What, like it’s hard?”

Hinata made a sound and it was obviously loud and embarrassing based on the way Washijou glowered at him.

Tsukishima shrugged, averting his gaze like Hinata was some kind of boring gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe, turning to rotate to the back row. “You’re not that special.”

Hinata gaped at his back, never having felt so offended in his life. Not that special? Not special? Him? Not special.

Hinata was going to prove Tsukishima wrong.

He just needed to figure out how to do that first.

Goshiki tried to comfort him, sort of, after the match. “Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You’re special—” And then Goshiki seemed to choke on his spit, his face getting all red as he looked everywhere but at Hinata. “Well, err— Not as special as me, of course. But still kinda—” He swallowed, taking a breath. And then he mumbled something under his breath.

Hinata frowned, looking at him. “Huh?”

Goshiki just got redder for some reason. “Shut up! It doesn’t matter. Just don’t listen to him!”

Hinata watched Goshiki walk away, feeling a peculiar sense of missing some key component of the conversation, but he shrugged it off. He could worry about Goshiki’s peculiarities later. For now, he had to find some way to kick Tsukishima’s butt, get him to acknowledge Hinata, and then they could become friends.

Maybe even best friends.

On the morning of the fourth day of camp, Hinata finally got to be reunited with the exact person he’d been waiting for. Maybe someone who could help.

Coach Anabara called for their attention. “You’re all very fortunate today. The Shiratorizawa third years have agreed to take time out of their very busy schedules to help you all train. Please express your gratitude.”

Hinata practically glittered as he watched Tendou and the others walk in. He beamed at Tendou’s little finger wiggle and Ushijima’s nod. After he’d bowed along with the rest of the camp attendees and they were all getting set up for their match, Hinata had skipped over to say hi.

Tendou planted both of his hands on Hinata’s head and started scruffing his hair in greeting. “Fennec-kun, have you perhaps gotten taller?”

Hinata gasped delighted, pleased that Tendou had noticed. “Yeah!” He held a hand to his chest, trying to play it cool. “I grew almost two centimeters since I saw you last.” Technically, only 1.5cm, but if there was one thing Hinata had learned from math class, it was that you could round up when it was most convenient to you... He thought?

Tendou’s eyes were squinted like he knew Hinata wasn’t being very honest, but decided to let it go anyway. “Soooooo, didya bring anything for us?”

Hinata gave them a thumbs up. “A carton of eggs each.” Ushijima lifted his own thumb in acknowledgement, face not shifting in the slightest.

“Tendou-san, did you have a chance to watch—” Hinata frowned when he noticed Tendou leering at a point behind Hinata’s head. The rest of the camp attendees were staring at Hinata in a mute sort of horror. All wide-eyed, like they’d encountered a bear in the wilderness and were trying to figure out how to get away. Only Goshiki seemed unbothered — maybe kinda over it.

Hinata tilted his head. “What’s their problem?”

“They probably think you’re a bit of a weirdo, Hinata.” Semi leaned around Ushijima to give Hinata a friendly smile. “Don’t let them bother you too much.”

“A weirdo?” He repeated.

Tendou looped his arms around Hinata’s shoulders, bending to smush their faces together, giving the camp attendees an open mouthed smile. “They’re just jealous because you know how to talk to big scary third years, Fennec-kun.”

Hinata scrunched his brow, casting a glance up at Ushijima, who seemed entirely unbothered by the scrutiny. Hinata always thought it was kinda cool how aloof Ushijima-san was. Like he was used to all the attention and it didn’t phase him at all. Hinata hoped one day he could be so cool. “I think Kita-san is way more intimidating than you guys.”

For some reason Tendou seemed to find this hilarious, giggling as he rocked Hinata back and forth. “I agree. Fox McCloud is waaaaaaayyy scarier than I could ever hope to be.”

Ushijima tipped his head up, thinking. “I believe Kita is moderately intimidating.”

After the scrimmage, which the first years lost handily, and they were all allowed to leave for the evening, Tendou dragged Hinata and Goshiki to the Shiratorizawa cafeteria, demanding his payment in eggs now, please. Also catching up over dinner would be nice, ne?

After Hinata had given the short version of Inarizaki’s performance at their last tournament, Tendou leaned forward on the table, chin cupped in his hand as he grinned at Hinata. “So have you been making friends, Fennec-kun?”

Hinata beamed, ignoring the way Goshiki rolled his eyes across from him — Hinata had no idea what his problem was. It’s not like Hinata was behaving any differently than he had at summer camp. He didn’t belong to Goshiki.

“Yeah! There’s a lot of amazing players in Miyagi. It’s been great to get to know them.” Unbidden, Hinata’s eyes strayed to the farside of the dining room where Tsukishima sat with a notebook and his headphones on, eating his own dinner quietly.

Tendou tracked the movement, smile curling mischievously. “Ah, Tsundere Moon-kun, yes.” Tendou nodded sagely. “I bet he’s just as pleasant as always.”

Hinata got the distinct impression that Tendou was being very sarcastic. “Was he not very nice when you played him?”

Tendou rolled his eyes, Goshiki clucked his tongue, and even Ushijima shifted in his seat. Hinata blinked at all of them, confused. “What?”

“I wish to defeat him, I am glad he’s at the camp.” Ushijima leaned forward slightly, expression serious.

Tendou tutted. “At least I only had to play him that once. He’s more annoying than me~” Tendou oozed over to Goshiki, batting at his arm like a kitten. “Unlike poor Tsutomu-kun who has to deal with him for two more years.”

Goshiki flushed, mouth setting in a grim line. “Yeah, well he’s not as annoying as Kageyama, and I’m going to be better anyways, so—”

“Who’s Kageyama?”

Tendou, Goshiki, and even Ushijima all paused to stare at him. Hinata bunched his shoulders, looking at them defensively. “What?”

Tendou let out a sigh, shaking his head. “I thought your team was working on your volleyball literacy.” Hinata pouted at him. They were! He’d even started watching some beach volleyball matches because they were so interesting. How was he supposed to know every player under the sun?

“He’s Karasuno’s first year genius setter. Very good. Very uptight. Very annoying,” Tendou explained.

Hinata tipped his head to the side. More Karasuno first years, huh? Cool. “If he’s so good, why wasn’t he invited to this camp?” Unless maybe he was sick or something?

“He was invited to the All-Japan National Youth camp, I believe,” Ushijima said.

Hinata nodded his head, understanding— and then it all sank in. He jerked and stared at Ushijima in surprise. “They have a nationally ranked setter on their team too!?”

“Yes.”

“So he’s in Tokyo at the training camp with Atsumu-san then?” Hinata asked, mouth gaping a little. Oh man, he couldn’t wait to talk to Atsumu about this when they got home. They could compare notes! Hinata about Tsukishima, and Atsumu’s assessment of Kageyama. Cool!

Tendou laughed, chin now propped up by both hands as he beamed at Hinata. “I hope Twin B-kun treats the little birdie with care~”

Hinata blinked at Tendou before his mouth slanted into a rueful smile. “Eh, I dunno about that, Tendou-san. Atsumu-san isn’t really the best at making friends.”

Hinata was pleased to see his observation had its intended effect: Tendou rocked back in his chair, hooting with laughter, drawing the attention of everyone else in the dining room to their table.

Hinata grinned. Hopefully, Atsumu wasn’t getting too competitive with this Kageyama guy.

“I dunno what his problem is, but that Tobio-kun is kinda a brat, huh?”

Atsumu watched as his roommate looked up from the tablet balanced on his chest, sprawled on his narrow bed in their shared Ajinomoto National Training Center dorm room. Atsumu was perched on the edge of his bed, feeling kind of restless after the first day’s practice. Maybe he should go for a walk?

Hoshiumi squinted at him, not putting his tablet away. “What are you complaining about?”

“Who,” Atsumu corrected. “Tobio-kun, the first year setter with the—” he scrunched up his face, pointing at the crease between his eyebrows.“Y’know, the face.”

Hoshiumi stared at him unblinkingly. “What’s wrong with him?”

Atsumu clicked his tongue. “I get the feelin’ he isn’t offerin’ me a ton of respect. He’s not bein’ a very good kouhai.” He was the best high school setter — Iizuna be damned — and Atsumu rightly felt that entitled him to a healthy dose of respect from the other setters around him. Kageyama so far had been a little cold and awkward.

It was kinda cheesing Atsumu off.

Hoshiumi finally blinked. “Didn’t you tell him earlier today that he’d make a better wing spiker than setter?”

Atsumu pursed his lips. “Yeah, and?”

Hoshiumi finally set down his tablet, sitting up in his bed to look Atsumu straight on. He was squinting now. “Miya, how exactly would you feel if someone told you that you shouldn’t be a setter?”

Atsumu scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “No one would ever tell me that. I’m too good.”

“Yeah, but he’s a setter too, so I bet he probably thinks—”

Atsumu decided to barrel through whatever response Hoshiumi had. “I was just tryin’ to help him. Poor Tobio-kun seems real uptight and stressed about his tosses. I bet he’d be way happier as a spiker.”

Hoshiumi looked unmoved. “Well, if you’re wondering why he’s cold with you, it’s probably that.” He flopped back down on the bed, lifting his tablet to his chest again, conversation apparently over.

Atsumu harrumphed, leaning back against the wall, momentarily considering how smart a decision it had been to ask to room with Hoshiumi for the next year of these camps. Atsumu’s old roommate from last year, a third year from Kyoto, had moved on, and Atsumu was given a new registration form to fill out with a spot for requesting room assignments. When he considered the other second years at the camp, there was only one name out of the list who he thought he’d have no trouble getting along with.

The first thing Hoshiumi Kourai did the first time Atsumu had seen him after Nationals in the summer, was to stomp up to Atsumu, glower in his face, and demand: “How is Hinata Shouyou doing?”

Atsumu decided then and there he and Hoshiumi were going to be friends.

So far their little arrangement worked for them. Hoshiumi was friendly enough. Extremely competitive and chippy about it, which was super entertaining. But he was also generally quiet and laid back in the evenings after practice. So far their roommate situation was great.

Atsumu could do with a little more moral support though.

It’s not like he’d come to camp intending to pick a fight — quite the opposite. He was the senpai now at the All-Japan camps. He had a year of experience under his belt here and he was ready to be the amazing senpai Atsumu knew he could be. He’d had visions in his head of taking all of the new first year setters attending the camp for the first time under his wing. Showing them the ropes. Maybe evaluating if they were scrubs or not — and then, of course, helping them. Probably.

If they deserved his help.

The only person he’d confided his grand designs in, was the only person he knew wouldn’t judge him for it. Hinata had just patiently listened the week before they left for their respective camps — though a not insignificant part of Atsumu was still unbelievably bitter Hinata hadn’t been invited to the national camp.

When Atsumu was done explaining himself during lunch one day in late November, Hinata had just tipped his head to the side, offering up his extra bento full of tamagoyaki for Atsumu to sample. “So, you’re going to support the new setters after you’ve decided they’re worth your time or not?”

Atsumu finished chewing on his piece of rolled egg before he answered. “Nah, I’m gonna help either way. Though I’d probably enjoy it more if they were worth my time.”

“Atsumu-san, I think you need to fix your attitude a bit.”

Atsumu gasped, outraged. Placing a hand over his heart, he gave Hinata a wounded look. “I can’t believe ya just said that to me, Shouyou-kun.”

Hinata shrugged, nonplussed. “If you’re going to help people, then you should just do it. Not just because they’re worth your time.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes — Shouyou-kun could be such a goodie goodie, it was so gross. He was about to say as much, when Hinata continued. “Though, for what it’s worth, I think anyone would be really lucky to have you teach them.” Hinata paused, giving Atsumu a warm smile. “I know I was.”

The gushing warmth that statement filled in Atsumu’s chest was almost enough to make him lay on the ground and want to roll around in the grass. Instead, Atsumu laughed and scruffed a hand through Hinata’s hair. “Aww, look atcha bein’ so sweet to me. Now gimme some more eggs, Shouyou-kun. I’m starvin’!” And laughed when Hinata tried to tug his egg bento out of Atsumu’s reach.

It was a little ember of that warmth that had Atsumu committed to helping any setter he could at the All-Japan camp. At the very least, he could make friends and maybe learn a thing or two from whatever new setters got recruited this year.

Though for some reason, in December of 2012, there was only one new first year setter: Kageyama Tobio. Had Atsumu known what Kageyama was like beforehand he might’ve been a little less committed to helping.

It wasn’t that Kageyama was bad. Quite the opposite. Atsumu on a good day — after a match where he had successfully crushed an opponent — might even be willing to admit there were things Kageyama was better at than he was. But only just barely. Atsumu had never seen another kid with a more intuitive sense of the court. His tosses were precise and sharp as a knife. The first time Atsumu had gotten to spike one of those tosses he’d been impressed. Kageyama didn’t seem to really need much time at all to sync up with a spiker. It was almost cool.

Too bad Kageyama was anything but.

Atsumu had never met a more uptight and terminally anxious player on the court — which was saying something, Atsumu had met an awful lot of squirrely players in his time. It was like you could practically hear Kageyama grinding his teeth on the court every time he put up one of his tosses. Like he was waiting for a spiker to fail him — only to be almost shocked when the spikers here actually met him where he was.

Like, yeah, Tobio-kun. Duh. Best players in the country here and all.

Atsumu wasn’t even particularly bothered by how unfriendly Kageyama was. He was just awkward as hell. Atsumu could work with that, even if sometimes Kageyama stared at him like he was waiting for Atsumu to yell ’SIKE!’ in his face and walk away laughing. Awkward and uptight. That was fine. At least he was talented and as volleyball-obsessed as Atsumu’s favorite type of people. He could work with that.

Hell, Kageyama had even apparently dropped a sick burn on Sakusa during their first night here — Atsumu had regretfully gone back to his room to call Hinata about his first day and missed it. He got a truncated summary from Hoshiumi. Something, something, Omi-kun was pissy about Wakkun losing. Kageyama asked why Sakusa wasn’t trying hard — ended up scaring Sakusa into running away to the baths. Atsumu chose to embellish that last part, but he figured it made for a better overall story.

He’d be delighted to take Kageyama under his wing. Teach him everything he knew about good tosses and bothering Sakusa. Maybe they could even be friends?

But there was one problem. One thing that kinda grabbed Atsumu’s goat maybe a lil too much. Kageyama was painfully, awfully, sickeningly deferential to spikers. It was always “How was that toss” this, and “Please give me feedback” that. It was disgusting. Awful. Just really fuckin’ gross, and not in a good way.

For as talented as Kageyama was, this streak of grovelling at the feet of his spikers was a bridge too fuckin’ far for Atsumu. It’s what he’d been getting at when he tried to tell Kageyama that maybe he’d be happier as a spiker — being a setter obviously weighed on him. The kid looked borderline strung out on the court half the time, and when he wasn’t, he was kissing the feet of his spikers like that’d make him any better at setting.

It was so antithetical to everything Atsumu believed about their role on the court. Every time he watched Kageyama word vomit seeking confirmation about the quality of his tosses, Atsumu would momentarily rage blackout. Or gag.

What the fuck was wrong with this kid? And was he even really a setter if he let all the players around him dictate the speed at which they played? Because from where Atsumu was sitting, this was someone who was extremely talented, but he lacked the iron in his spine required to successfully hold the position he wanted.

Atsumu would watch Kageyama execute the most ridiculous plays with pinpoint precision, and he would stand there gaping for a moment. It was so frustrating! So much talent! Stuffed into the body with the worst possible personality for a setter. It made Atsumu want to puke.

It was why Atsumu really couldn’t help himself on the third day, when he let Kageyama know what he really thought of him. Partially out of a sense of benevolence, wanting Kageyama to genuinely fix his attitude and get his shit together. Partially because there was only so much ass kissing Atsumu could witness before he needed to say something.

Atsumu got the distinct impression that Kageyama reeeeally didn’t like being called a “Goody Two-shoes.”

At least Atsumu got to feel some vindication after Kageyama had inadvertently stomped on Hoshiumi’s toes.

“A great reference? A reference? How dare he say that to me! What does that even mean!?” Hoshiumi snarled at Atsumu across their table in the cafeteria, hand slapping against the table at each new, increasingly irritated question he asked.

Atsumu blew on his miso soup, shrugging like he hadn’t been complaining about Kageyama to Hoshiumi for the last two days. “Don’t let it get to ya, Kourai-kun. I’m sure Tobio-kun still thinks yer amazin’.”

Hoshiumi banged his fist into the table hard enough to make both their dinner trays rattle. “Don’t patronize me, Miya! Just because you’ve been unsuccessfully bullying him for three days—”

Atsumu scoffed. “I would never.”

Hoshiumi gave him a flat stare, throwing his arms into the air. “A reference to what!? To who!” Hoshiumi squinted at Atsumu accusingly. “I already have to deal with the existence of Hinata Shouyou. He can’t be saying there’s more, can he?”

Atsumu blinked, setting down his soup, suddenly offended at the implication that anyone could even touch Hinata in terms of skill, passion for the game, commitment. Hoshiumi and Hinata were different, but both very good in their own ways. “Doesn’t matter. Whoever the heck Tobio-kun was talkin’ about, he can’t touch ya.” And especially not Shouyou-kun.

Hoshiumi muttered some expletives under his breath, taking a large bite of his food as he glowered down at the table. Seeing the expression, Atsumu wondered if there wasn’t something he might do to remedy the situation. Like maybe showing off the message Hinata had sent him earlier.

“Oi, Kourai-kun.” Hoshiumi glanced up, one cheek stuffed full of food as he chewed. “Wanna see some pictures Shouyou-kun sent me? They’re from our training camp this summer.”

Hoshiumi perked up, scooting his chair over so he was closer to Atsumu to better see his phone. “Didn’t you say he was at some special camp in Miyagi or something?”

Atsumu scrolled through his phone, pulling up the message to find the pictures Hinata had sent him earlier in the day. “Yeah, he was invited special.” He was allowed to brag. It was fuckin’ cool, right? What other first year got invited to a special first year training camp halfway across the country. Only Shouyou-kun. Suck it, All-Japan.

“Tendou from Shiratorizawa gave them to him, and he sent ‘em to me.” Atsumu turned the phone around so Hoshiumi could see.

Hoshiumi didn’t hesitate, plucking the phone out of Atsumu’s hand and beginning to scroll. “You guys got to do a pizza party? I’m kinda jealous — we usually only get a store bought sushi party at ours.”

“Yeah, it was pretty tasty. The coaches like to go all out at the end of camp, probably to make all the college kids feel better, gettin’ their asses kicked by a buncha high schoolers.” Atsumu smirked, leaning forward on the table, cupping his chin in his hand as he watched Hoshiumi’s reactive face shift and smirk at each new photo.

Eventually Hoshiumi’s brows pinched together, pulling the phone closer to his face. He squinted, zooming in on the picture. “Why does this guy look so familiar?”

A Shiratorizawa player maybe? Atsumu gestured for Hoshiumi to show him. Hopefully it wasn’t one of the college randos. Atsumu barely knew any of them.

Hoshiumi showed him the picture, one of Hinata during the pizza party, laughing at something Annika had said. Hinata’s face was too scrunched up and he was doing that embarrassing unrestrained donkey bray laugh. The one that always brought a smile to Atsumu’s face even when he was at his grumpiest. It was just so goofy—

Hoshiumi tapped the screen. “The guy drinking a beer. In the sling. I think I recognize him.”

Atsumu blinked, looking at the smaller figure of Inunaki in the corner of the picture, looking faintly amused at the antics going on around him. “Oh, that’s Wan-san from—”

Atsumu’s phone was abruptly ripped out of his hand from behind, making him jump. He glared viciously over his shoulder, ready to deck whatever asshole thought it was a good idea to steal his shit. “Motoya-kun!? What the fuck?”

Komori had the phone pulled close to his face, mouth gaping open in shock. Finally he cast Atsumu a wide eyed look, licking his lips. “Is this— Is that—” Komori sucked in a breath, a weird little smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Atsumu, why exactly do you have a picture of the Inunaki Shion in your phone?”

Hoshiumi frowned. “Inunaki... Who is he?”

Komori wheeled around on him, staring at Hoshiumi like one might an alien. “You don’t know who Inunaki Shion is!?” Atsumu had never heard Komori so shrill. Was he another weird libero otaku? First Akagi, then Yamagata. Now Komori too? Had they met Inunaki? Did they know he wasn’t that great? Atsumu kinda thought Inunaki was a bit rude and aloof — seemed to like Hinata well enough but that didn’t really mean much. Everyone liked Hinata.

“He looks familiar, but I don’t know why?” Hoshiumi was sucking on his teeth, squinting at Atsumu’s phone screen, still clutched in Komori’s little thief hands.

Atsumu felt himself dissociate a little as Komori started to rhapsodize his undying love for Inunaki. All the ways he was soooo coooool~ And how, did ya know Inunaki refused to attend All-Japan camps because he wasn’t allowed to miss his own schools training camps? And how he has the best receives in all of Japan, and probably even something about how Inunaki’s shit don't stink. Atsumu didn’t much care. He’d heard this all before, and he had no interest in learning more about all the ways in which Inunaki Shion was the second coming of the messiah. A messiah whose favorite word was ’bitch’.

Atsumu was just starting to contemplate how exactly he could get his phone back from Komori, blithely searching through Atsumu’s pictures like he had any business doing so — he was getting dangerously close to Atsumu’s collection of embarrassing selfies where he tried out different ways of styling his hair. A voice cut through Komori’s ramblings.

“What are you doing?”

Grrreeeat. And with Sakusa, they were a party. Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, Atsumu tipped his head back to look at Sakusa, looming at them like a masked face looming... loomer. “Hi, Omi-kun.”

Sakusa gave him a menacing glare, before tearing his eyes away to glower at Komori. How Komori put up with grumpy pants over here was beyond Atsumu. They seemed like such polar opposites. For one thing, Komori knew how to smile. For another thing— actually, Komori had been pretty glib about taking Atsumu’s phone. Maybe Komori and Sakusa were just on different spectrums of the asshole axis?

“Hey, Kiyoomi! You’re not going to believe whose photo Atsumu has in his phone.” And then without asking permission, Komori turned the phone to show Sakusa. It was another photo of Hinata — this time with Ushijima as they each ate a half of orange chuupet, their cheeks hollowed out as they sucked. Both of them looking up cutely at the camera Tendou held aloft to get the three of them in the picture. It was from right before their pizza party, if Atsumu recalled correctly.

Sakusa’s eyes narrowed.

Komori pulled the phone back, swiping through it, a gleeful expression lighting up his face. “And I couldn’t believe it myself, but apparently Inunaki Shion was there too! I’m so jealous. I would give anything to get to play against him. Or with him.”

Sakusa turned his attention back to Atsumu. “What exactly is that thing doing hanging around Wakatoshi-kun?”

Atsumu felt his hackles rise. Maybe this’d be the day he finally smacked Sakusa for talking shit. Fucking no one got to talk about Shouyou-kun like that, not while Atsumu was around. Hoshiumi beat him to the punch. “Are you talking about Hinata Shouyou?”

Sakusa gave him a withering glare, clicking his tongue. Komori’s round brows bunched on his forehead, already predicting where this conversation was going. He let Atsumu’s phone drop to his side, before sliding it across the table to Atsumu, which he picked up.

Hoshiumi provided Atsumu a moment to gain some clarity though, for which he was grateful. “I’m confused, Omi-kun. I thought you ‘n Wakkun,” he emphasized Ushijima’s nickname, relishing in the way Sakusa stiffened, “were best buds. Shouldn’t ya know him and Shouyou-kun are good friends?”

Hoshiumi tipped his head to the side. “Waka— Are you guys talking about Ushiwaka?” He turned his bird-like stare to Atsumu. “Hinata Shouyou and Ushiwaka are friends?”

Atsumu gave Hoshiumi a friendly smile. “Of course. They trained together at summer camp. I thought I toldja back in September. Ya know it’s hard to resist Shouyou-kun’s charms.” Atsumu waved a hand airly, like it was no big deal.

The other three stared at him blankly like he’d just said something weird. Finally Sakusa scoffed. “What, like you?”

Atsumu stared at him blankly. “Haa?”

Sakusa, the absolute prick, titled his chin up for maximal condescending glower down at Atsumu. “You can’t resist his charms either, right?”

Atsumu really didn’t understand what the heck Sakusa was getting at. He gave a baffled half laugh, shrugging his shoulders. “Well, yeah, obviously. Me ‘n Shouyou-kun are best friends.” He gave Sakusa a mean smile, “I know it’s hard for someone like ya to understand. But most people have these things called ‘friends’, ya know—”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

Atsumu rolled his eyes, pursing his lips in mock sympathy. “Then speak more clearly, Omi-kun, ‘cause yer kinda bein’ a bit annoyin’. Wastin’ my time—”

Finally Sakusa scoffed loudly, apparently losing patience. He arched one well-maintained eyebrow, giving Atsumu his most condescending look. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Atsumu stared back at him, mind going momentarily blank. In love with who? and then his mind caught up and he realized: Shouyou-kun!?

Atsumu sucked in a breath just in time for his chest to buck with laughter as he kicked his head back. When Atsumu’s laughing fit subsided, still chuckling in fits and spurts as he wiped under his eyes, snorting to himself.

“Omi-kun, yer a real funny guy, huh?”

Sakusa just gave him a withering look.

Atsumu waved it off. “Just ‘cause ya don’t have any friends, Omi-kun, doesn’t mean that every close friendship are two people bein’ in love with each other.” He plopped his chin in his hand, giving Sakusa his most patronizing smile. “I’m sure you'll learn that eventually.”

Sakusa rolled his eyes, sliding a look at Komori before he stomped away. “I’m going for a bath before any of the rest of you infect it with your germs.”

Hoshiumi finished chewing his salad and looked at Komori. “He must be real fun at parties.”

Komori snorted, shrugging. “He’s an acquired taste.” He turned to look at Atsumu, giving him a curious look and a thumbs up. “I better go check on him, but I’m gonna come bother you for more Inunaki stories later.”

Atsumu watched him go, curbing the urge to roll his eyes. In love with Hinata? Please. What the heck would Sakusa know? If he wasn’t off being weird as hell about germs, he was sniffing around Ushijima. That was probably all it was. Sakusa was salty that this was the first camp since Ushijima’s last one, in addition to the news that Shiratorizawa wasn’t going to be coming to Nationals. That was all.

Atsumu flashed a grin at Hoshiumi. “Anyways, as I was showin’ ya earlier, Kourai-kun, yer not gonna believe what Shouyou-kun can do now. We gave him like a week in the summer, and he learned a butt load.” Hoshiumi continued to listen, munching on his dinner, interjecting with a few of his own Kamomedai stories here and there.

It was a good distraction from what Sakusa had said. Not that Atsumu needed distracting. Because it wasn’t true. It was just— Hinata was Atsumu’s best friend. Just ‘cause Sakusa didn’t have one of those, well, he didn’t know what the heck he was talking about!

Yeah! Omi-kun didn’t know shit.

It was just kinda weird how Atsumu couldn’t stop thinking about it though. Like, every time he tossed a ball in the air, he thought about how Hinata could hit it better or how they’d sync up more smoothly. But that didn’t mean he was in love. People thought about their friends all the time! And he was a setter used to a very specific kind of spiker. Kinds of spikers! He had lots of talent to work with.

...So why was he only imaging Hinata like that and not Aran or Osamu?

People loved their friends. Obviously. Atsumu had heard Akagi say it to the other third years plenty of times. ’I love you guys.’ And like, yeah. Atsumu loved his brother. So it made sense that he’d love Hinata too, especially ‘cause he liked Hinata waaaaay more than ‘Samu.

That didn’t mean he was in love.

Why the fuck did he keep thinking about it then?

This was all Sakusa’s fault. Trying to fuck with him in the lead up to Spring Nationals. What an underhanded shitty trick. Because now Atsumu kept thinking about it for the rest of camp. And then he kept thinking about it on the train home. And he thought about it over dinner while his parents kept asking him questions about how Tokyo was.

Atsumu kept right on thinking about it up until the moment his mom asked if he was excited to see Hinata tomorrow, and those familiar giddy Shouyou-kun stomach bubbles hit him, pulling an easy smile from his face. He gave his mom a grin and a “yeah.”

But then, what the fuck had that been? And then he started to consider what the heck the Shouyou-kun stomach bubbles even were.

Atsumu kept right on thinking about it so hard that he tripped over a stack of manga next to his and Osamu’s bunk bed, as the two of them got ready for sleep. Osamu squinted up at him from his lower bunk, brows knit in concern. “Are ya okay? Ya seem awfully distracted, ‘Sumu.”

Atsumu blinked down at his brother, before he shrugged irritably and switched off the light, climbing up to the top bunk by feel alone. He gave an overburdened sigh when he’d settled. “I’m fine. I think I didn’t sleep well the last two nights,” Atsumu said to the ceiling. That was true. Mainly because his mind kept right on buzzing with thoughts about Sakusa’s words. And thoughts about Hinata, and all the different ways Atsumu apparently thought of Hinata.

Osamu was quiet for a moment before his voice sounded from beneath him. “That’s not like ya. Yer not gonna get sick, right?”

Atsumu snorted. “Fuck no. Not before Nationals.”

Osamu hummed. “Good.” Then after a beat he tacked on, “Night, ‘Sumu.”

Atsumu rolled over onto his side, facing the wall. His eyes slid shut. “G’night, ‘Samu.”

The next morning he was still thinking about stupid Sakusa and his stupid words, but in like a faintly irritable way. He’d actually had a good sleep last night in his own bed, and it had provided him with some much needed clarity. Sakusa was a mean little shit, incapable of experiencing human empathy. Trying to throw a wrench in Atsumu’s finely-tuned volleyball apparatus. That was all.

Well, not to-fucking-day, Satan. Atsumu was in peak condition. So was his whole team. They were going to rock practice and get ready to kick some ass in two weeks’ time. Hell yeah.

He was so fired up that morning that he dragged Osamu out of the house early for practice, hoping to get some extra warm up time in before everyone else arrived. Find his equilibrium. Get all zen and shit.

He was just getting some ball touches in as Osamu went to get changed in the locker room when the door clattered open, and in walked Hinata, a wide gleaming smile on his face. “Atsumu-san! You’re back!”

Atsumu felt that familiar warmth suffuse his limbs, feeling a smile tug at his lips as he watched Hinata start rooting around in his bag for his court shoes, pulling them on. Sakusa didn’t know what the heck he was talking about. Him and Hinata? Best goddamn friends. No one could take that away from him. They got each other, better than anyone else. Just ‘cause Sakusa was a lonely ass weirdo who affixed all his hopes and dreams on one person like a pathetic duckling, didn’t mean Sakusa knew shit.

Hinata had been chattering the whole time as he pulled on his shoes, saying something about a tall setter, and other tall guys, and a two meter dude. But his words abruptly cut off when he finished tying his laces. His eyes scanned the gymnasium, searching for something before they alighted back on Atsumu, grin going toothy.

“Kita-san isn’t here?” Hinata asked, eyebrows waggling.

Atsumu felt a giddy laugh pull from his chest. “Nah, he’s—”

Hinata didn’t let him finish, grin going impish as he held out his hands at Atsumu making grabby motions. “Then toss to me, I missed your tosses more than anything.”

Atsumu stared at Hinata a moment, feeling his face slacken a little bit. The Shouyou-kun bubbles were starting to pop and fizz all down his limbs and up his spine— and that wasn’t usually what happened when you saw your friend, was it? He watched Hinata’s tongue dart out, flicking against his teeth in anticipation and normally your stomach didn’t swoop when you saw your friend’s tongue, did it? And your heart probably shouldn’t race at the sight of his hungry little grin, right?

Hinata took a step forward, plucking a ball out of the cart, and giving Atsumu a wink. Then he affected a near perfect kansai-ben. “C’mon, ya wanna toss for me, dontcha?”

Atsumu nodded, still staring at Hinata stunned. Even as Hinata put up the ball and Atsumu moved to receive, his brain was going two hundred kilometers a minute, while simultaneously feeling sluggish and slow. Hinata was in the air, a wild feral grin blooming across his face. Atsumu watched him, thinking ’this is my favorite view in the whole world.’ and then tossed his heart up along with the ball.

When Hinata hit the ground, hands in the air, dancing around a bit as he looked at his spiking hand, he breathed out a deep, relieved sigh. “Oh man, I love your tosses. That’s the best feeling in the world,” he slid Atsumu a sidelong look, smile all slow and easy. It made Atsumu’s heart trip and fall on its face in his chest. “Dontcha think, Atsumu-san?”

Holy fuck. Atsumu was in love with Shouyou-kun.

He hesitated long enough that Hinata had stopped to look at him curiously. Atsumu licked his lips, trying to find words. His tongue was a heavy, overlarge wiggly thing in his mouth. “I—”

“Hinata-kun.” Kita’s voice rang out sharply from the farside of the gymnasium.

Hinata tensed and grimaced, turning to look at Kita as he tucked his hands behind his back. “Hey, Kita-san! I didn’t know you were here.”

“We’ve talked about you leaving your bag and coat on the ground before. Please go put them away in your locker,” Kita said with a fond sigh. Hinata gave an awkward laugh, shooting Atsumu an eyeroll before he scurried over to collect his things and haul them into the locker room.

Atsumu was still standing shell shocked with his revelation when Osamu found him a minute later. “Hey, didja see Shouyou-kun? He was complainin’ all yesterday ’bout missin’ yer tosses—” Osamu frowned when he saw Atsumu’s face. “‘Sumu, are ya okay?”

Atsumu let out a wheezing breath, trying to order his thoughts. How did one explain the collision of galaxies and ideas and philosophies in his head that was this revelation? How did he sum up a year and a half of friendship, and all the little special and not so special moments that led to this big overflowing feeling in his chest. He didn’t have words.

It’d be like trying to explain how volleyball made him feel.

Atsumu could only shrug helplessly at his brother, staring down at his hands, wondering if his tosses had understood his feelings before he had. A part of him had to have known, right?

Why else had he chased after that terrible little middle schooler and dedicated a year of his life just so he could play with him?

Osamu’s expression pinched. “Okay, then. Yer bein’ real fuckin’ weird.” He raised a hand to clamp down on Atsumu’s shoulder. “Don’t be useless in practice today.”

That at least snapped Atsumu halfway back to normal. “Fuck yerself.”

Osamu greased him a mean smile. “Nah. No, thanks.”

Atsumu sucked in a fortifying breath, thankful for his brother — even if he’d rather die than tell him that. He could practice. It would be fine. He had time to sort out his feelings and figure out what to do with them. Yup. No need to rush or panic. It was cool. Focus on the now and Spring Nationals. Everything else could come later.

Which is why he asked Osamu if he wanted to alternate serves before practice started.

That was what he was doing when the locker room door opened and Hinata walked out with Suna. “Yeah, it was really funny. No one’s ever said anything like that to me before,” Hinata was saying, embarrassed grin on his face.

Suna looked way less bored than he normally would. Atsumu might even say he looked intrigued. “So what exactly did you say to him?” Suna asked.

Osamu was setting up for his jump serve, but Atsumu kept watching Hinata and Suna out of the corner of his eye. Good god, was this just going to be his life now, where he was permanently distracted by Hinata? Was there anything he could do to not do that?

He watched as Hinata flushed, flapping a hand. “I mean I got kinda embarrassed and said so, and then Goshiki-kun leaned in and kissed me!”

It was like a stab straight to Atsumu’s heart. He was so distracted by the way Hinata was clasping his blushing cheeks between his hands that Atsumu missed the moment Osamu smashed the ball. Right up until that ball smacked him in the clavicle, rolling up and nailing him under the chin, knocking him back onto his ass.

When he opened his eyes, rubbing at his poor abused chin, giving Osamu the stink eye across the net, Atsumu suddenly found Hinata standing over him, eyes wide with concern.

“Atsumu-san! Are you okay?”

Atsumu looked up at the boy he was apparently in love with — had been in love with, for who the fuck knew how long — and sighed. He flopped backwards on the court, covering his face with his hands. “No. No, I’m not, Shouyou-kun.”

Because the boy he was in love with had apparently gone and kissed bad-haircut-first-year in the time it took him to figure it out. The boy in question pursed his lips. “You’re still going to be able to toss for me today, right?”

Atsumu cracked his fingers open enough to peer up at Hinata, terrified at the fact that it was apparently possible for him to love Hinata more than he already did. Osamu wandered over, clucking his tongue as he poked Atsumu with his shoe. “Don’t be such a crybaby. It didn’t even hit ya that hard.”

Atsumu didn’t respond, merely groaned into his hands and contemplated all the choices that had led him here. Goddammit. Fuck.

What the fuck was he supposed to do now?