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Hinata has always adapted to his rapidly changing circumstances and twists of fate with stride. Throughout the years, he has managed to surprise everyone and pull off things that outsiders might consider reckless. Those that know him best know that every risk Hinata takes is one that he is prepared to fall for.
Hinata is nothing if not courageous.
For example: he moved to Brazil at the tender age of 18, ready to leave his barely-there career behind in pursuit of a new one, and managed to become a successful figure in the beach volleyball world in an astoundingly short two years. (He also became fluent in four languages, despite nearly failing English twice in school, but the idea of Hinata as a polyglot is something his current and former teams still struggle to accept.)
He pushed through and connected with his roommate across an almost-impenetrable layer of awkwardness purely through the power of manga, fierce friendliness, and determination, and against all odds, they’re still friends today. (He received Pedro’s annual holiday package in the mail the other day, and he shouldn’t have been surprised to see copies of his favorite shounen and his guilty pleasure shoujo in the mix.)
He pursued a relationship with his high school setter, pouring his heart and soul into every minuscule moment they spent together, despite knowing that he was leaving the country almost immediately after graduation. (And, okay, so maybe this one was a bit short-sighted, and maybe Hinata’s fingers still sometimes twitched and ached in anticipation of his pinpoint sets years later, knowing they’ll never come.
Hinata still considered it one of his crowning achievements from high school.)
And how could he not? How could he look back on his three years at Karasuno and feel anything but nostalgic fondness at the memories he crafted with his team, with the upperclassmen he learned from and underclassmen he trained? With his partner, who relentlessly practiced and pushed and inspired Hinata to be able to live up to the expectations that he had for himself?
Even if things didn’t turn out exactly as planned in the end.
Hinata remembers their first year as a dynamic duo fondly, as they awkwardly and hesitantly tiptoed the boundaries around their newfound friendship, neither one willing to break the boundaries and suggest that they’re anything more than volleyball teammates. Calling each other up for anything but extra practices felt taboo, somehow, as if they were crossing the lines beyond rivals and into something murky and unknown.
(As if that line hadn’t been crossed months and months before. As if Hinata was fooling himself into believing that their connection, electric on the court and off, was anything short of a miracle.)
They were both too emotionally constipated to consider that reality, too wrapped up in dares and challenges and competitions, even as their upperclassmen looked at them knowingly and Tsukishima barely restrained himself from laughing when they would loudly assert that they weren’t that close, okay?
They had too many feelings toward each other, feelings of jealousy and awe mixing together into an unrecognizable pattern, and they would fight to prove that those feelings came from rivalry alone.
(No one needed to know, after all, how fiercely they had both flushed after their last informal practice as first-years, when the spring sunshine warmed their tired bodies in the gym, when they were the last ones resting against the walls on the deserted school campus, when Hinata let a whispered Tobio slip past his lips unprompted and the heat suddenly became stifling, and how quickly Tobio cut off his apology and let him know, in one hurried breath, that it was fine, it was great, actually, but only if he could call him Shouyou in return.
Their shoulders brushed as they hastily got up and they looked at each other in surprise. For all their casual touches over the past few months, neither could have anticipated the shock that rushed up their spines this time.
They hastily waved goodbye, promised to meet over the weekend, and didn’t talk about it.)
They mellowed out a bit by second year, the maturity that comes with late-stage puberty finally catching up to both of them and forcing them to admit to themselves that, okay, maybe some of the fighting was just unaddressed internal issues bubbling up to the surface, and maybe they actually really liked (read: couldn’t live without) spending time with each other outside of volleyball.
Tsukishima stared at them in disbelief when they called the first team meeting before practice to make the announcement that they would now be officially best friends, while Nishinoya and Tanaka cheered from the utility closet and Ennoshita watched fondly while setting up the net. The newly recruited first-years clapped hesitantly, still not sure what to make of the… rather eclectic group of athletes that were now Karasuno’s pride and joy, and who had encouraged them to try out for the volleyball team with so much sheer enthusiasm at the club fair a few days prior.
(Are these really the guys that beat Shiratorizawa? one of them whispered, just as the hyper orange-haired one pelted a ball at the black-haired setter for blushing and not saying anything or contributing throughout their announcement. Dude, forget Miyagi. Teams in Tokyo are scared of them, the other whispered back, just as the apparently-genius libero and ace fell on top of the second-years in a celebratory pile of flailing limbs and muffled curses, and the seemingly mellow team captain erupted in yells and threatened to make them run laps as punishment if they didn’t cut it out.
The limb pile fell apart. The first-years questioned all their choices.)
Somewhere along the way, late practices led to even later dinners, and Hinata would end up dragged along to Kageyama family dinners because we can’t have a repeat of what happened last year, Shouyou, and you need to eat now, but you live over a fucking mountain. Hinata became a favorite at the Kageyama household, regularly invited for after-school study sessions and weekend sleepovers. In preparation for their second Nationals, Hinata spent the better part of December in Tobio’s room, reviewing techniques, watching matches, and running outside to play around with volleyballs or snowballs (whichever happened to be closer).
(Hinata discovered that winter was a lot more fun with his best friend by his side.
Hinata also discovered, to his greatest surprise, that Tobio was surprisingly similar to Natsu. They both loved yogurt drinks. They both yelled for Hinata’s attention. They both crawled into Hinata’s bed when it got cold without warning, huddling against Hinata’s radiator of a body for warmth.
With Natsu, Hinata would hug her, comfort her, and koala-carry her back to her own bed once she was lulled to sleep besides him.
With Tobio, Hinata panicked. They stared at each other in silence, heartbeats strumming out of tune, brown eyes barely seeing navy ones in the darkness. Hinata could feel the heat from Tobio’s blush radiating toward him as they got closer, nervously and tentatively taking the step toward something new, since they could never rest without constantly pushing the boundaries and breaking their own expectations.
They didn’t need words.)
When they walked into the gym in the early days of January holding hands, the third years whooped and Tsukishima glared as he set up ground rules (if I ever see you two making out on the bus, even on the way to Nationals, I will throw you out myself, I swear).
For all his complaining, Hinata swore he heard Tsukishima mumble a “congrats” and an “I’m happy for you” under his breath, no matter how much he later denied it. (He’s totally happy for you, Yamaguchi stage whispered later when Tsukishima was still in earshot, and the tips of his ears went red while he kept muttering something about needing serve practice and dragging Yamaguchi along with him.)
Hinata also swore he saw Yachi triumphantly holding out her hand for cash while Yamaguchi paid up, but they both vehemently denied placing bets on anyone’s love lives.
In their defense, Hinata would’ve bet his nonexistent life savings on him and Tobio at that point, too.
.
They fell into one another naturally, complementing one another’s rough edges with enthusiasm and passion, slowly but surely learning how to love each other in the way that they each knew best. What they lacked in experience and emotional intelligence, they made up for through the power of their connection alone.
They burned bright, two twin flames setting the volleyball world afire.
Hinata loved Tobio with every flawless attack he executed, with every court-side encouragement he’d yell in his direction, with every time he’d proudly proclaim that Tobio’s tosses were better than anyone else’s. Loving Tobio was as fundamental to his life as eating, or spiking, or sleeping.
But hindsight is unforgiving in its clarity. They loved each other childishly. Tobio was still finding the words and gestures for love in his own way, struggling to do more than huff a “nice receive” in Hinata’s direction as a compliment, even when Hinata knew Tobio felt just as strongly as he did.
Tobio showed his love through gentle touches reserved for Hinata, through unnecessary fist bumps as a prelude for holding hands, through lingering hugs after games, through cuddles at night, through sprawling across Hinata’s lap as they sat together doing homework that quickly got abandoned.
Those easy touches disappeared as soon as Hinata came to Brazil, and their love languages quickly got lost in translation.
Hinata felt the distance weighing on his shoulders more than he cared to admit. He was shackled to the ground by the sand and wind and emotional distress that plagued him on the beach, even as he practiced relentlessly to improve.
Part of him was stuck in Tokyo. And that lovable yet stubborn part of him rarely had the time to make phone calls work across a time difference while prepping to be on Japan’s National Team for 2016, or had the wish to try virtual dates if he couldn’t hold Hinata in person, or had the ability to reassure Hinata during his sparse moments of insecurity, when Hinata started to question his decisions of leaving everything he knew and loved to go off into the unknown.
A soulmate connection can’t be severed easily. But it can fray and disintegrate when it isn’t taken care of, and somehow, that slow pain hurt even more.
(When they broke up, a few months into Hinata’s stay in Brazil and many heart wrenching nights later, Hinata knew it was for the best. It didn’t stop him and Kageyama from sniffing back tears together over the phone, promising each other that they would be okay.
It took quite a bit of time for Hinata to fulfill that promise.)
Hinata learned, grew, and evolved quicker than he ever thought possible. Days at the beach must be an adequate substitute for therapy, Hinata concluded, and he spent all his time bathing in the endless sunshine while perfecting his technique (and perfecting is a strong word, he knew this, but it wouldn’t be Hinata if he wasn’t striving to constantly be better than he was before, to constantly reach for everything that seems unachievable).
He and Kageyama met in Rio when he visited for the Olympics. A part of Hinata broke again, a part he had tucked away so deeply that he didn’t even think it was capable of breaking, but he saw the same feelings reflected in Kageyama’s pained expression. Hinata hesitantly reached his hand towards Kageyama, almost as a peace offering, and Kageyama grasped it gratefully. They started to feel like first-years again, reveling in the chaos that they brought out of one another and learning to love each other as friends again.
It was a little awkward at the start, but it was them. The rules in their lives were never meant to be followed.
If anyone could manage to strike up a years-long rivalry, chasing each other across Brazilian beaches as if they had all the time in the world, it would be them. If anyone could return, once again, to being each other’s greatest instigators only a year after breaking up, it would be them.
(They made their promises, swearing to see each other on the national stage one day, and Hinata took Kageyama to the airport. It didn’t hurt as much when Kageyama hugged Hinata tightly before he left.
Hinata thinks that counts as moving on.)
.
Hinata makes it back to a Japan that is eager to have him and an indoor volleyball world that greatly missed him. With tryouts for the Black Jackals serendipitously coinciding with Hinata’s return, the stars aligned for a professional debut like no other.
The friendly faces that greet him at practice are just a bonus. Bokuto’s loud laughter echoes through the locker rooms every morning, and Sakusa’s deadpan stare as Bokuto tries (and fails) to entertain him makes Hinata burst into laughter, too.
This time, he turns his head mid-laughter when he notices Atsumu staring in his direction, an oddly soft smile gracing his features, but he quickly looks away when Hinata glances over. Hinata knows he’s not imagining the light pink making its way across Atsumu’s cheeks, but the promise of another eventful practice is enough to distract Hinata (for now).
Hinata’s always had a soft spot for his setters, but something about Atsumu’s enthusiasm and unique commitment to his spikers makes Hinata feel warm inside. Hinata has learned to fight his way into recognition, to constantly prove himself on and off the court, so every ball sent his way feels like a gift received after years in the making. But Atsumu, with his special attention and encouragement and cheerful Shouyou-kuns after every toss, makes him feel worthy every time.
They practice regular sets and stay behind for extra practice, just the two of them, working on their own version of the freak quick that neither had attempted without their high school teammate.
Years after high school graduation, Hinata hits a pinpoint toss during his debut game, and he feels like he’s flying again. He stares at Atsumu’s face in awe and grins until it hurts.
Atsumu’s smile lights up the stadium.
(Hinata’s insides light up when he remembers how, mere hours ago, Atsumu called him his wing spiker with unmasked reverence, throwing an arm over his shoulders for good measure.
How Kageyama had raised his eyebrows and stared knowingly at the two of them, because for all his challenges with social signals even he could feel the tension.
How Hinata wanted to evaporate right then and there, but also wanted to take the weight of Atsumu’s comforting presence with him.)
They go out to celebrate their win against the Schweiden Adlers, the entire team filling up the rundown bar and cheering to what promises to be an eventful season. Hinata learned to take shots like a champ during his time abroad, but none of his friends had the same luck, and none were willing to admit that they couldn’t go shot-for-shot without getting absolutely wasted. Seven or so shots (read: bad decisions) later, Hinata ends up with a lap full of Bokuto, singing off-key in the decidedly not-a-karaoke bar, and Sakusa has to drag him out by his shirt collar to get some fresh air before Bokuto gets them all kicked out permanently.
Hinata would be concerned, as any good friend would be, but he knows Sakusa has Akaashi’s number on speed-dial for nights like this.
(Hinata honestly forgets any of his worries when Atsumu slides over on the couch, taking up the space that Bokuto had graciously emptied. He turns to Hinata, cheeks still burning, mouth still teasing, heart still pounding loud enough for Hinata to hear it. They had been dancing around each other all night, and Hinata knows this game better than he knows himself. He doesn’t hesitate before holding Atsumu’s hand in his, looking up at him with a matching smile playing on his lips. Atsumu holds Hinata’s hand tightly and looks up at him with a look of determination that is belied by the deep inhale he needs to take for confidence.
I think I like you, Shouyou-kun.
And Hinata couldn’t help but giggle at the shakiness in Atsumu’s voice.
I think I like you, too, Atsumu-san.)
.
Later that same night, Atsumu admits, rather sheepishly, that he had a slight crush on Hinata since their very first game at nationals all those years ago. Hinata laughs, buries his face in the nearest pillow, and peeks out to ask if he’s just fulfilling one of Atsumu’s teenage fantasies.
Atsumu almost shrieks into the pillow. Hinata never lets him live it down.
.
Hinata learns that Atsumu, for all his boisterous teasing, absolutely melts when Hinata sings his praises, so Hinata makes it a habit to come up to Atsumu after practice and give him a heartfelt compliment before they head back (first to the dorms, and months later, to their shared apartment). It’s ridiculously endearing to watch Atsumu’s ears go red, every time, as their teammates coo and Atsumu groans, hiding his face in his hands to mask his ever-present smile.
(And every night, without fail, Atsumu repays Hinata in kind, holding him close and whispering reassurances that Hinata himself doesn’t always know he needs. Just hearing Atsumu’s voice is enough, Hinata thinks, to weather anything. Even things that haven’t been weathered so well in the past.
He thinks about the unsigned contract in his top drawer and knows he has to take the risk.)
When Hinata packs his bags to go to Brazil one last time, he doesn’t worry about leaving Atsumu behind. Hinata has spent too many years in love to not notice how this love is different.
Kageyama taught Hinata how to love. Atsumu teaches Hinata how to accept the love he needs.
They both insist on frequent phone calls, working around the time differences and early mornings to create a viable schedule for them both to follow. And as the months of 2021 fly by, marked by warm nights and easy conversations and continued plunges into new and exciting terrains, Hinata considers himself the luckiest man alive. He knows he won’t lose another soulmate while pursuing his dreams.