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A gentle laugh. Sharp brown eyes that crinkle when he smiles. The crow's feet at the corners of those eyes. Bright smile, blinding and beautiful. Silver hair, glinting against the sunshine, forming a halo of light.
Breathtaking.
That’s the only word to describe him.
He can’t help but return that bright smile, chest swelling with a warmth he can only describe as love. Fingers find fingers, intertwining together and holding steadfast. A silent promise to never let go.
A crow screeches angrily in the still air, black feathers rustling as the bird takes flight, soaring up overhead and disappearing from view.
One boy turns his head towards the sky, dark eyes trained on the fleeting figure. The other barely acknowledges, instead speaking softly to no one in particular as he pulls along the distracted boy. It doesn’t take long to regain his attention, eyes shining with adoration once more at the glistening silver hair and kind eyes that stare back at him.
I love you. He wants to say it, wants to bare the deepest parts of his soul to this angel, to let him know that he’s utterly, deeply devoted to him. But it’s lodged deep in his throat, unable to budge. It makes his eyes water and his mouth dry.
The other glances back over his shoulder, smile as brilliant as ever. It makes his heart stutter and he’s suddenly frozen in place under the sheer brightness of that joyful expression. It’s enough for him to realize that warm tears are slipping down the slopes of his cheeks. A hand reaches out to catch his tears, fingers gently pressing into his skin.
“Daichi? Why’re you crying?” Sugawara tilts his head to the side, smile turning softer as he speaks once more, voice sweet and gentle, “ Daichi. Dai. H —”
“— ey, Daichi. Hey. Wake up.” A hand is gripping his shoulder, shaking away whatever little sleep he might’ve been getting. The leader blinks once, twice, three times before blearily gazing up at the silhouette blocking out the light from the tinted windows above. He heaves a tired sigh, joints protesting as he stretches out, the heels of his palms digging into red-rimmed eyes to swipe at the unshed tears and sleep that remained.
They must’ve been traveling over gravel, small tings and pings echoing off the hull of the van as Tanaka drives the worn vehicle towards their next destination. Their next non-permanent home.
The sun is just barely rising, and as the silhouette shifts, he thinks that Suga looks so pretty in this lighting. Angelic, actually.
Nishinoya leans forward, mouth contorted in a concerned frown, hair matted and untamed from not having done his morning routine yet. The younger boy studies Daichi, unusually quiet for once.
“Dreaming again?” It’s soft, meant for only his ears. No one else needs to be woken just yet. They all deserved a decent night's sleep, especially the younger ones.
Daichi doesn’t reply, instead staring wordlessly at the crude baseball bat resting on his lap.
Noya just nods, sinking down to sit beside the leader, bringing his knees to his chest and draping his arms over limbs, fiddling with the pocket knife usually kept in his boot.
Grief weighs heavy between the two. It weighs down the entire team, leaves them hesitant, leaves them empty. Losing a member is never easy. Daichi just never assumed it would happen to them. To him. But nothing is said. No words are exchanged in this moment. The silence may be suffocating but the two boys experience it together.
Daichi does his best not to remember. Not to replay events that he’ll never be able to fix. It doesn’t help anyone, doesn’t help him. It only leaves behind guilt and a nasty taste in his mouth.
In an attempt to distract himself, glazed eyes sweep past Noya’s head, taking in the small pile of bodies that sleep soundly across the way; tufts of green, orange, black, and blond hair poke out under blankets and makeshift pillows. Others sleep sitting up, heads lulling to the side as the entire vehicle jostles with movement. And yet they sleep on. Daichi notices the puffy, dark circles under the eyes of those whose faces he can see. In all honesty, he probably doesn’t look much better himself.
Attention returning to the boy squatting next to him, the appointed leader notes the dark circles and hunched posture. Nobody, not even Nishinoya, could truly hide the exhaustion and the emotional toll this early in the morning. Sawamura reaches out to grip the smaller boy’s shoulder, squeezing in reassurance. It will do no one any good to see their great captain stumbling and crumbling when needed most.
He inhales, steadying his aching heart.
“We’ll be fine.” It’s not Daichi who speaks, and he goes to respond, only to be interrupted. “We’ll be fine. He would want us to continue. Survive. Not mope around and ask what-ifs and how-comes.” The determination in the younger boy’s voice is enough to finally shake him from the last dazes of sleep.
He exhales, arm dropping to his side.
“Yeah.” He smiles, small, tentative, but it’s a smile nevertheless. The other nods once, smiling back as he rises to his feet.
“C’mon, cap’n. You’re up to drive. We’re almost there.” Nishinoya claps him on the back, his own way of reassurance and comfort before climbing towards the front of the van, to where the rest of the group awaits. Where a new day awaits.
Their leader watches, eyes tinged red but remain hardened with determination.
No death is in vain, Sawamura thinks, exhaling shakily as he grips the trusty bat that’s served him well over the past few months.
His death was not in vain. It echoes, reflects in every single member of their ragtag team of survivors. It shines in the way they fight, the way they push for another day. It settles in, leaving behind a crater-size hole of emptiness in all of them.
But no death is in vain.
Someone rather wise and stupid once said that. It became their mantra, their guiding light. A remembrance, a promise.
A promise that Daichi plans on keeping.
No death is in vain.