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They don’t practice on full moons.
It doesn’t have anything to do with the volleyball club; all school activities are suspended once a month to accommodate the lunar cycle. It’s just one of those things, like Children’s Day or the Equinox. Kageyama doesn’t think anything of it, apart from the fact that it means his mother will expect him to help out with chores for the evening.
Of course, they have Therries on their team. A full ten percent of the population shifts with the moon, so it’s no surprise they’re represented in the volleyball club. He’s seen Nishinoya rolling down the hill by the river with an enormous chestnut-brown mastiff, its legs long and powerful and its flanks rippling with muscle. He’s seen Daichi with a grey squirrel on his shoulder, its long ear-tuffs and tail perked up as it eats seeds from his hand. They’re open secrets, the kind that’s known and understood without being discussed. Squirrels and dogs can’t play volleyball, so it makes sense that club is cancelled for the full moon.
Kageyama’s never had a Therianthrope as a close friend. But then, he’s never really had any close friends. His status as king of the court kept the Kitagawa boys away, his aura of pride and privilege solid as any steel barrier. It’s only since coming to Karasuno that he’s actually participated in normal things like sleepovers and study sessions and movie nights. Only since coming to Karasuno that he’s found people he genuinely enjoys spending time with.
Not that he’d tell them that.
***
It’s early summer and the nights are already short, the sun still up when they finish practice for the evening. The team walks through the town together before splitting up in their separate directions, eating curry buns and meat buns and popsicles in the sweltering heat.
The first years naturally hang together at the back of the pack, Hinata walking his bike, Yamaguchi chattering to Tsukishima who has his earphones on. Kageyama watches the moon rise in the blue sky; it’s nearly full, rotund and silvery as a fish’s belly.
There aren’t any Therries among the first years and Kageyama briefly considers asking them over tomorrow night. But he’s not really interested in spending time with the haughty Tsukishima or the grovelling Yamaguchi. And Hinata…
Well, what about Hinata?
He glances over at the shorter boy as they walk through Karasuno’s small commercial core, just one-storey tile-roofed buildings selling groceries and household goods and toys. Hinata’s talking to Yamaguchi, his eyes bright and his mouth relaxed in an easy grin. Kageyama’s never known anyone so quick to smile or so easy to motivate. Never known anyone who with so little effort can get Kageyama – who at Kitagawa was notoriously icy – fired up. There’s something about Hinata that slips under his skin and then refuses to come loose, holding on no matter how much Kageyama tries to shake his influence off.
In a taller, calmer, more eloquent man it would be called charisma. In Hinata Kageyama doesn’t know what to call it. But he does know that whatever the word for what Hinata’s effect on him, it’s something important.
“Na, Kageyama!”
Kageyama snaps out of his reflections to discover that Hinata has come to a stop right in front of him; he stumbles awkwardly and catches his shin on the back wheel of his bike, leaving a dirty streak on the black pants leg. “Dumbass! What’re you stopping in the middle of the road for?”
Hinata, as ever, is utterly unmoved by the reprimand. “Look,” he says, pointing into the window of the 100 yen store. There’s a colourful little set of kitten stickers to be used as page-markers on display, among other stationary supplies. Objectively they’re very cute, showing multi-coloured kittens rolling and pawing and yawning.
Subjectively, as a male student surrounded by other male students, they are dangerously feminine. “You want some cute little kitty stickers to put in your notebook?” he drawls. Hinata’s brows furrow.
“No – no. I bet Natsu would like them.”
Which of course makes much more sense. “…And you’re telling me this because?”
Hinata grins up at him, then turns out his pockets. “I’m broke! I spent all my money on yakisoba pan at the school shop. Can you lend me some money?”
“You want me to give you the money to buy cute kitten stickers?”
“Yeah!” He elbows Kageyama in the side in what he must imagine is a winning manner. “C’mon, be a pal!”
The other boys have continued on while they’ve been stopped outside the window, and are reaching the end of the shops. “Kageyama, Hinata, get your asses in gear,” calls Daichi-san.
Kageyama stuffs his hand in his pocket, pulls out a hundred and fifty yen, and shoves it at Hinata. “Here. But you better pay me back tomorrow!”
Hinata snaps the stand on his bike out, leaving it in the middle of the road, and runs into the shop. He’s out a minute later with the stickers. “Thanks Kageyama! Here, I’ll give you one!” He picks off a sticker of a cowlicked ginger cat and presses it to Kageyama’s shirt, grinning. “There. I bet you like kittens.”
“I definitely do not,” says Kageyama, and peels the sticker hastily off. He shoves it back at Hinata, sticking it onto his forehead. “There. I bet you do,” he replies, and before the decoy can reply jogs off to join the rest of the team.
They discuss their plans for tomorrow’s day off, a mixture of movies, games and studying, and then break apart in their separate directions. The sticker has half-peeled off Hinata’s face, his eyes big and thoughtful. “Kageyama, do you really not like cats?”
Kageyama shrugs. “Not really. They’re so… haughty. Proud. Who wants a pet who thinks it’s better than them?”
Hinata sticks his tongue out at him. “You’re all haughty and proud too. I would’ve thought that you’d get along great.” He hops onto his bike, gives Kageyama a raspberry, and pedals off.
Kageyama stares after him, confused. Then he shrugs and turns up the long sloping hill towards home.
***
The next day is even hotter, the sky clear of clouds and the sun beating down. Summer in the mountains is drier than at sea level; it’s not so humid, but instead they bake in the pure heat.
Classes are long and listless, the students opening all the windows and hoping for a breeze. PE is stifling, the class sweating through a basketball game in which Kageyama makes good use of his height and beats Hinata’s team into the ground. Hinata glares at him with just a little more heat than seems warranted. He hasn’t paid Kageyama back for the stickers yet, either.
After school they don’t go to the clubroom; instead all the students are heading home. Kageyama trots out into the courtyard and sees Hinata taking his bike out of the lockers. “Oi, dumbass.”
Hinata doesn’t look up. “I don’t answer to dumbass,” he says.
“You just did. Where’s the 150? I want to buy some milk.”
Hinata makes a face. “Ew. It’ll be all hot and curdled.”
“The machines are refrigerated, idiot.”
“I’m not feeding your disgusting milk-drinking habit. I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”
Kageyama frowns. “Oh yeah? Where’s your security?”
“For 150? Give me a break.”
“Come over then. To make up for it. I got a new tape of some Brazilian volleyball footage.”
Hinata looks up, eyes shining. “Wow, really?”
It’s pathetically easy to impress him. It would be sad, except that Kageyama had been equally impressed when his Dad presented him with the disc. He nods.
“Okay. But I can only stay for a little while.”
“Oh, now you’re setting conditions?”
“Shuddup.”
***
Hinata leaves his bike by Kageyama’s front door and they enter the cool air conditioned bliss of his house. Mom has some iced tea and snacks ready for him; when she sees Hinata trailing behind she quickly pours out another glass. Hinata drinks thirstily from it; “Thanks!”
They troop upstairs to Kageyama’s room, Hinata scrambling leggily up the stairs first. He’s wearing just his t-shirt and dark pants. The shirt is stuck to his shoulder blades with sweat, revealing the fine lines of his back. His arms are tanned from the summer sun but thin, tapering to delicate wrists. It’s amazing he has so much power in them, but then his strength comes from his core, not his arms.
As he reaches the top of the stairs ahead of Kageyama the setter’s eyes slide lower to the seat of his pants, the cotton tight over his ass. His hips are narrow and his butt perky, rounded above powerful thighs. For some reason Kageyama’s thoughts flash to Hinata in his volleyball uniform, shorts high and showing off his strong, toned legs. The uniform shows off just how fit the decoy is, how supple his body is, how it could fit firm and smooth against Kageyama.
He blinks, and the image vanishes. Kageyama clenches his suddenly-sweaty palms and looks away.
***
The DVD turns out to be better than he had expected. It’s beach volleyball and the play is quite different, but there are enough similarities to make it interesting. And the men play shirtless, their toned, tanned skin glinting in the hot tropical sun. It makes Kageyama hot, his pants uncomfortably tight; they grow tighter when Hinata groans along with the losses and knocks his knees against Kageyama’s, the two of them sprawled on the floor in front of the TV.
It’s just hormones, he tells himself. His stupid teenage body. Other kids in their year are probably at home now watching porn on their phones. He’s just over-heated and pent up from not enough activity. That’s what makes him glance at the long line of Hinata’s throat disappearing into his shirt, what makes him wonder what it would feel like to brush his thumb over the other boy’s pink lips. Hormones, definitely. Not in any way, shape or form affection.
He covers it up by insisting on rewinding the disc to watch particularly good plays. And, luckily, Hinata seems pretty interested in it, because he doesn’t object. Outside the sun drifts slowly lower in the horizon, the cicadas singing in the trees.
Hinata’s hair shines a bright vulpine orange in the late afternoon light, full of flaming colour. Kageyama has the sudden urge to reach out and touch it, to feel how silky it is, how smooth. His hand actually shifts towards the other boy before he slams to his feet. This is crazy!
“I’m going to get more snacks,” he declares as Hinata turns wide amber eyes up towards him. He grabs the tray of empty bowls and glasses and rushes out of the room, heart racing.
Fuck, he needs to get himself under control. It’s just Hinata, just his stupid, slow-witted middle blocker. Just the boy who’s been driving him slowly to distraction for months, for reasons Kageyama can’t understand. Just the boy who knows exactly how to get under his skin, now in a suddenly terrifying new way.
He stands in the hallway leaning with his back against the wall and his eyes closed for several long minutes as he prays for his senses to return to him. He can’t be interested in Hinata – not like that. Hinata’s too enthusiastic, too determined, too slow on the uptake.
But… Kageyama likes that. He likes all those things. He likes it when Hinata comes bounding onto the court ready to play, like nothing else in the world matters but receiving a toss from Kageyama. He likes the way the middle blocker has eyes only for him, always. And anyway, Kageyama’s no genius, he’s not even on the University track. What would he do with a brainiac? They would probably just make fun of him.
All of this isn’t helping. He trudges downstairs slowly, puts the tray on the kitchen counter, and refills the snack bowls and the glasses.
Almost ten minutes have passed by the time he returns and he can’t imagine Hinata will have failed to notice. Excuses fill his mind: stuck in the bathroom; called to do a chore for his mom; made a phone call.
He opens the door and steps in.
Hinata’s not there. But, strangely, his clothes are.
Kageyama blinks. On the floor, his white school shirt shifts. Slowly, an orange-furred cat – more a kitten, really – pokes its head out of the collar. Its eyes are huge and amber, its fur mussed as if from sleep.
Kageyama looks up at the window. At the sky beyond, where the full moon is rising.
“Oh,” he says.
The kitten mews.
“You never said you were a Therry,” he says accusingly, setting the tray of snacks and drinks down on the floor. The kitten pulls itself fully out of Hinata’s clothes and sits up on its haunches. Its back is rounded, the fur a darker orange along its spine and lightening to near-white on ridiculously fluffy stomach.
On his ridiculously fluffy stomach.
Kageyama squats down and considers the boy-turned-cat. His ears are silken and pricked up, his paws large and tufty, his tail twitching.
Cute, thinks Kageyama. His big round eyes hold no trace of haughtiness; they’re meltingly warm and innocent. He reaches out a hand like he would to a dog; Hinata stretches out his neck and sniffs at the fingers, his pink nose twitching. His whiskers are long and sensitive; they tremble as he takes in Kageyama’s scent. Then, slowly, carefully, he pads forward and rubs his cheek against Kageyama’s fingers. It’s soft as silk, the fur brushing light as mist against his skin.
Cats mark their territory with scent glands, he knows. Undetectable to humans, but to other cats the marks are clear: Mine! Is that what he’s doing now? He curls his fingers, scratching beneath Hinata’s chin. The little cat turns his head upwards, leaning into the gentle strokes.
He likes it. Likes Kageyama’s touch, his fingers in his fur. When Kageyama pulls away he looks up at him, whiskers twitching.
“Uh, I guess you’re staying the night, then. Don’t think you can bike home like that.”
The kitten mews again, his voice small and high; it makes Kageyama’s heart tighten. “I’ll call your mom and let her know. Okay?”
Hinata stares up at him, head canted to the side, and blinks slowly.
“Right. Right. I’ll just… go and do that.”
He’s not flustered by how suddenly, strikingly adorable his teammate is. Not at all.
***
Hinata’s mother sounds worried when he calls, but he reassures her he’ll take good care of the boy-turned-cat. Therries are neither human nor animal but something in between, and they have unique strengths and weaknesses. In human shape they have heightened senses and physical reflexes; as animals they have greater intelligence. But a cat-shaped Hinata doesn’t have human-Hinata’s full intellect. He’s a creature of instinct and simple emotions for as long as he’s in his animal form, and can’t deal with complex problems or conversations. Therries in their animal form have been killed chasing toys across the road, or falling from heights that couldn’t sustain their weight.
Kageyama comes back from the phone call to find Hinata on his bed, sniffing delicately at his pillow. He won’t let the cat outside, he resolves; not until morning comes and he’s human-shaped again.
Hinata hears him coming and looks up, pacing back towards the edge of the bed. His tail is held high and triumphant, the end curled playfully. Kageyama stares down at him uncertainly. “Everything’s good,” he says. “Want to watch another game? I’ve got some older recordings…”
Hinata sits down, then flops onto his side on the bed. “I guess that’s a yes,” supposes Kageyama, and goes to get the DVDs.
***
It’s while they’re watching some old Olympic footage that Kageyama hears a soft spongy noise. He’s sitting with his back against his bed, Hinata watching the TV over his shoulder. Except, when he looks, he finds that Hinata is more interested in licking his paw. He has it turned over so that the little pink pads show, and is carefully cleaning between them. His fur sticks up like a buzz saw between the tiny toes and Hinata licks it down, darkening it from orange to ochre.
The sight of Hinata pulling his rough tongue over his paw is strangely captivating. Kageyama finds himself forgetting the match playing behind him; he swivels to watch as Hinata moves from his foot to his arm, carefully cleaning the sleek fur of his fore-arm and working his way up. Then, without any apparent thought, he raises his arm and pulls it across his face, flattening one ear and brushing aside his whiskers. He brings his arm down, licks it again, and then repeats the face-rub. Lick, raise, rub, his ear popping up again each time, his little nose wrinkling as he washes it.
It’s delightful. Terribly, unbelievably cute. Kageyama knows he’ll never be able to forget seeing this, knows that the next time he loses his temper at Hinata on the court he’ll remember this little feline cleaning himself in his bed. His chest is light, his heart fluttering.
Unfair, he thinks. He’ll never be able to make Hinata feel this joyful. Will never bring this kind of pure simple enjoyment to the middle blocker. He harrumphs and turns around, arms crossed.
A moment later he feels a pull on the back of his head, then a soft wet sound.
Hinata is licking his hair. Is grooming him like he was a friend, a brother. A mate.
He turns his head slowly, Hinata’s tongue lifting segments of hair and wetting them, until he catches sight of the cat’s orange furry face. Hinata’s eyes are mellow, half-closed, his expression calm. He’s enjoying this, the bastard, while Kageyama is left to deal with his embarrassing enjoyment of being licked by his teammate.
“Just because you’re small and fluffy now, don’t think I won’t exact revenge on you later. I’ll make you do my cleaning duties for a week. I’ll put shaving cream in your shoes. I’ll…”
Hinata’s warm tongue swirls over his ear and his spine jerks straight, words falling out of his brain. Slowly he turns back to the TV, and gives himself up to be groomed.
***
Eventually Hinata finishes his cleaning duties. Kageyama thinks maybe he’ll settle down at watch the damn video now, but no. He hops down off the bed with a surprisingly heavy thump and proceeds to inspect Kageyama’s room, sticking his nose in anywhere and everywhere. He’s particularly interested in Kageyama’s closet, nosing through his dirty clothes basket (“Hinata! Ew! Get out of there!”) before finding a sports shoe on the ground and proceeding to leap on it like it was a mouse. He wrestles back and forth with the shoe, biting the toe and batting fiercely at the laces.
“Finally found someone your size?” says Kageyama, once again watching him rather than the match on the screen. He glances around and notices a hoodie draped on the end of the bed; it only takes a moment to pull the draw-string out of the hood and flick it onto the floor.
Hinata drops the shoe instantly, suddenly tense and watchful, his big eyes staring at the string. Kageyama gives it a twitch and Hinata jumps, rolling as he hits it and landing on his side with the knotted end caught in his teeth, his paws hugging the string.
“Oho, pretty good for a pipsqueak. How about this?” he flicks his wrist and snaps the string to the side; Hinata dodges up and after it, turning on a dime to follow it back when Kageyama whips it again. He moves like greased lightning the way he does on the court, flawless, fearless.
In the background the video plays on, forgotten.
***
They’re playing with a paper ball when mom calls them down for dinner. Kageyama looks up, suddenly guilty. He told Hinata’s mom he would stay over, but he forgot to tell his own that Hinata won’t be eating with them – at least, not human food.
Hinata bats at the paper ball, waiting for Kageyama to hit it back to him. Kageyama stands instead, and leans forward. “Uh uh. We’re going downstairs. Is it okay if I pick you up?”
Hinata blinks slowly, which seems to be his form of assent; Kageyama scoops him up carefully and tucks him into his arms. He’s like a furry ball of warmth, hardly any weight at all. Nestled as he is against Kageyama’s chest, the setter wonders if he can hear how fast his heart is pounding.
“Toshio, can you get – what’s that?” His mom stops in the middle of her request as he comes into the kitchen, staring at the cat in his arms.
“It’s Hinata,” he says, flatly.
“Hinata-kun? You didn’t tell me he’s a Therianthrope. I would have made less for dinner,” she adds, tone lightly scolding.
“It was a surprise. But he pretty much has to stay over now. I’m sure he won’t be any trouble. Well. Not a lot, anyway,” he revises, glancing down at the cat. Hinata blinks up at him.
“Well I think we have some tuna in the cupboard. I’ll get that.” She turns to dig into the cupboard. Kageyama brings Hinata over to the table and puts him down on the placemat that’s laid out for him.
“Stay there,” he says, and goes to get himself some juice and Hinata some water. When he comes back the cat is still sitting on the mat; he sniffs at Kageyama’s juice and then at the bowl of water. “That one’s for you.” Kageyama sets it down in front of him and he takes an experimental lap at it, tiny beads of water splashing against his delicate mouth. “Real graceful,” says Kageyama, and goes over to help mom with the food.
***
After dinner, at which Hinata consumes nearly an entire tin of tuna, Kageyama carries him back upstairs. Outside the sky is growing darker, the full moon rising against the navy backdrop. “You know, I probably should have guessed you were a Therry,” he says, setting Hinata down on his bed and sitting beside him. “You’re way too athletic to be pure human. But the way you jump, I would have guessed a monkey or something. That’d explain your math scores, too!”
Hinata snorts quietly and turns away, licking unconcernedly at his paw.
“Oh, now who’s a haughty bastard?” Without thinking, Kageyama reaches out to tickle his sides.
Hinata freezes in his grip. Then, as Kageyama’s fingers move through his fur, he starts purring. It’s a soft sound at first but it grows until his entire body is vibrating with the force of it. Kageyama softens his touch, stroking instead, and Hinata twines up against him, eyes closing in a display of pure bliss.
It leaves Kageyama’s mouth dry.
“I’m not forgetting about the 150 yen,” he whispers. But he knows that right now, he would do absolutely anything for Hinata. And he has the scary sense that Hinata knows it too.
***
Hinata sleeps in his bed, curled up beside his shoulder. With the lights out and the moon casting a silvery glow in the gloom, Kageyama lies quietly and watches Hinata’s orange side rise and fall.
It’s a long time before he falls asleep.
***
“Kageyama! Oi! Ka-ge-ya-ma!”
Kageyama wakes up to the sight of Hinata bending over him, his orange hair cowlicked as always and his amber eyes bright.
Kageyama groans and turns away. Then, a moment later, he remembers yesterday. Remembers the warmth of Hinata’s fur and the softness of his cheek and the feeling of his tiny body purring its heart out against him. He snaps upright.
Hinata, the boy, is standing beside his bed fully dressed and bright-eyed. “Morning!” he crows, cheerfully.
Kageyama blinks slowly, raising a hand to pat down his hair. “Yeah. Morning.”
“Your mom’s making pancakes! I can smell them. If you get up we can have ‘em while they’re still hot from the pan!”
“Oh. Right.” Somehow, though, he can’t help but keep staring at Hinata. His hair is the same colour as the cat’s coat, his eyes the same warm amber. Kageyama can’t help but think of the play of orange fur against his skin, of those wide eyes slipping closed in contentment.
“Kageyama?”
“You never told me you were a Therry,” he says, sliding his legs over the side of the bed but stopping short of standing.
Hinata tweaks his nose. “Yeah. Well. Other people are cool animals like wolves and snakes and eagles. I’m just this little cat. And… you don’t even like cats.” His eyes drop, his tone almost regretful.
“Even I can make exceptions,” says Kageyama. Hinata’s head shoots up, eyes catching his gaze.
“You –”
“You were pretty cute,” he teases. “A big fluffy ball of fur.”
“Kageyamaaaa. I am not cute.”
“You definitely are. Adorable. Insufferably so. But… I kind of liked it,” he says, quietly.
Hinata’s eyes are wide, his mouth half-open. This way he’s pretty cute, too.
“Close your mouth,” he says, standing up. “Let’s go eat.”
***
On the way out the door Kageyama can’t help but notice the way Hinata brushes against him, just like the little cat had rubbed its cheek on his fingers. “Hinata?”
“Cats can be pretty possessive, Kageyama. Once we find someone who likes us, we don’t let them go.” He grins and skips forward, grabbing his bike.
Kageyama follows, swinging his satchel over his shoulders. “Good. Because I don’t let go either,” he says.
END