Chapter Text
Oikawa Tooru could list the constants of his life on one hand. They were his home prefecture of Miyagi, volleyball, his best friend Iwaizumi Hajime, and the inevitable knee pains that plagued his everyday life. They were nothing, of course, especially not something Oikawa couldn’t handle, but throughout his life there was that nagging stab in his right knee. Sometimes he was afraid to get out of bed, fearful that his knee would crumble beneath his weight and leave him in searing pain. Rightfully so, of course, seeing as it had happened twice already.
But that was beside the point. Oikawa Tooru wouldn’t let some knee pain get in his way, especially when his knee worked perfectly fine. He just had to endure it, from the little nagging pains during stretches to the white-hot stabbing feeling that came after a game. If enduring the pain meant that maybe, maybe, he could catch up to Ushijima, or even just Tobio… Oikawa Tooru would tolerate any pain.
Speaking of pain, his knee had been acting up yet again. Causing disruptions at practice, the smallest of flinches he couldn’t suppress, which lead to a flubbed serve. He had lied, quite smoothly actually, that it was his ankle that was in pain. He had “twisted it while hurrying down the stairs that morning,” as he had unfortunately been running a bit late due to the uncooperative nature of his hair. There was no way he’d tell the truth, even Coach Irihata may have told him to sit out a few practices if he had said that. Besides, they had a scrimmage with some school named “Karasuno High School” this afternoon. Rumor had it little Tobio-chan was attending that school.
Oikawa couldn’t wait to see the King of the Court crumble.
And maybe, some part of him at the back of his mind itched to see firsthand how he had improved since middle school. Too see if maybe his genius had run out. Realistically, Oikawa knew that was unlikely. Unlike himself, Kageyama Tobio was a god-given prodigy. Or so he had convinced himself. Maybe beating Karasuno (and by extension Tobio) into a pulp would give Oikawa some kind of manic ego boost and drive him to join the professional league straight out of high school. Yeah right. But a guy could dream, couldn’t he?
But it didn’t matter if they could beat Karasuno or not if he couldn’t get out of the stupid athletic trainer’s room. Sometimes he regretted going to a school which had a student athletic trainer program, sometimes he regretted becoming Oikawa Tooru . Why had he decided to do the whole charismatic thing again? Sure, the idea of being the guy that girls went “Kya~” over had been nice, but goddammit he was tired of it. Currently he was being held up by the student asking every question possible, being generally touchy and a little more than slightly annoying. And that’s not even him being self-obsessed, by the way! He knew that she was stalling him on purpose, he knew her face to be a reoccurring one in the gang of fangirls that surrounded him before quite a few of his games.
If only Iwaizumi knew that Oikawa was just as tired of receiving all their dumb attention as he was hearing about it. Sure, their support was nice, and the attention was always welcome, but having to act all charming directly after a game (especially if it was on the rare occasion that they had lost) was beyond exhausting.
“Okay,” the student trainer sighed out after noticing that Oikawa’s focus was far from her meaningless questions, “I suppose you’re good to go. But please make sure to be careful, Oikawa-san!”
Oikawa nearly leapt up from his seat on one of their stupid tables with the crinkly tissue paper, flashing a trademark Oikawa Tooru smile at the girl, “Of course I will, when am I anything but careful?”
He practically bolted from the room, long legs carrying him out the door in less than two whole steps. Hopefully his fake smile had been enough to come off as eager to get to the scrimmage rather than eager to get the absolute hell out of that room. Last thing he needed right now was some rumor about Oikawa Tooru acting rudely towards one of his “fans.” Especially not during his third year, his last chance to finally beat Ushijima and see the stupid look on his stupid face after he loses.
But first he had to clear the hurdle that was Kageyama Tobio.
Oikawa lightly jogged between the buildings and down the hallways which lead to their gym, the familiar sounds of volleyball growing nearer and louder. He could feel himself smile subconsciously as he reached the door, the court coming into view. He hesitated by the doorway, looking out upon the game before stepping onto the floor himself.
Tobio was instantly recognizable, standing in Karasuno’s front row with a familiar glowering look on his face. Well that’s not what OIkawa had hoped for. He looked every bit as whiny and broody as he did when Oikawa had last seen him play in middle school. He didn’t look to have changed at all. Then, the fairly tall blond-haired boy standing next to him seemed to mutter something, garnering a quite wicked glare from Tobio. Oikawa chuckled to himself as the two began shoving at each other even as the ball went into play, only snapping to attention after an older bald boy in the back row yelled at them. Seems like Tobio’s still causing rifts.
To his annoyance, Oikawa watched as Karasuno’s front row unified in a solid block against Iwaizumi’s spike, knocking the ball down into their side of the court. At least that meant they knew how to do something , even if getting along wasn’t on that list. With that point, the set sat at 23-22 in favor of Karasuno. Oikawa was pleasantly surprised. He knew that Yahaba’s skills were obviously less than his own, if not simply because of his greater experience, but he also knew that his kouhai was not so much worse that Karasuno as he had expected would be able to accomplish such a feat.
There’s no way Tobio alone would be able to bring a school like Karasuno up to our level, even without me in the game, Oikawa raised his brow, interest piqued. Seeing as the set was almost over anyways, he decided to linger near the doorway and watch the game for a minute longer. Watching Tobio and the other lanky (presumably first year) boy bicker was entertaining, after all, especially when their faces flashed with fear as their captain resorted to yelling at them. He watched as a particularly nasty spike slammed down into their side of the court despite Watari’s diving attempts, Coach Mizoguchi yelling at Kunimi for not receiving it.
24-22, Oikawa almost couldn’t believe that his team was going to lose a set to the infamous “Flightless Crows” of Karasuno. Beyond the addition of Tobio, each individual player exerted a presence that one wouldn’t expect from a shamed former powerhouse school. Especially that odd, orange-haired shorty. Oikawa watched as he dashed to one side of the court, leaping into the air before Tobio had even completed the toss. The ball was practically dragged to his hand, as if magnetized by Tobio’s ability. The ensuing spike blasted right by Iwaizumi and Watari’s defenses, leaving them stunned and the set lost.
He couldn’t help the smile that found its way on to his face as he made his way over to the bench, even if he wanted to or tried. He had been right to ask Coach Irihata for this scrimmage, even if he had originally only asked so he could face off with Tobio again. Karasuno as a whole now gripped his attention, he was actually excited to get to the next set. He wanted to figure out their workings, their strategy, and just exactly how they could have shown such sudden and rapid improvement.
Inevitably, a fairly large commotion and some screams of adoration broke out once the spectators noticed that he had entered the gym, pulling the players’ and coaches’ attention to his presence. Oikawa pretended not to be bothered by the sudden noise, instead smiling charmingly up at the girls on the second floor balcony.
“Oh, Oikawa, you’re back,” Coach Irihata looked up at him from the bench, “How’s the ankle?”
Oikawa turned to look at him with a smile, ignoring the burning stares of the Karasuno players into his back, “It’s fine! I can get back to regular practice. It was just a slight sprain.”
His lie seemed smooth enough for Irihata, as he turned back around grumpily, “For crying out loud! Be careful. You’re the one who asked to play against Kageyama. What do we do without our official setter? It’s embarrassing.”
“I’m sorry,” Oikawa apologized bashfully, his coach’s words reminding him of a fussing parent.
“Oikawa-san, take care of yourself!” came an annoyingly high-pitched voice. One of the girls, he turned towards the source of the call and waved with a fake smile they couldn’t see through. God, he hoped they would be quiet when he got his time on the court.
Oikawa took a moment to speak to his teammates, greeting them before noticing Tobio’s focus still on him. He turned to face the younger, smiling as he waved at his former teammate, “Yoo-hoo! Long time no see, Tobio-chan. So nice to see you. You still doing the king thing?”
He couldn’t help but throw in that last comment, perhaps just for a reaction. He was a little shocked to see Tobio turn to both his captain and the orange-haired shorty and begin talking rather than throwing any kind of comment back at him. The bald guy from earlier definitely was feeling irritated though, based on the constipated glare Oikawa was getting from him.
“Anyway, go get warmed up,” Coach Irihata interrupted, “Even more than usual!”
“Okay,” Oikawa hummed as he walked away to the sounds of more squeals from the girls and the baldy’s grumbling. He let a small smirk make its way onto his face as he glanced back at Tobio, his eyes burning into the back of his skull when he faced forward and away from him again.
Winning wasn’t anywhere near the front of his mind anymore. Now, he wanted to see how Tobio had changed, how he had stayed the same, and, most importantly, how Karasuno had managed to get anywhere near their skill level in such a short time. He grinned as he traded out his club jacket for the lime green penny offered by Iwaizumi, nodding at his teammate in thanks.
“I trust that you’ll be able to keep us afloat long enough for me to get warmed up, right?” Oikawa asked, mainly teasing his friend.
“Only if you actually warm up, none of that half-assed stretching,” Iwaizumi responded seriously, “Or else I’ll throw the game.”
“So mean Iwa-chan, can you really do nothing but throw threats around?”
“I’ll be throwing a ball into your stupid face if you don’t go away.”
Oikawa laughed but relented, walking away and continuing his warm-up routine as the game resumed.
You better not even think of throwing that game, Iwaizumi, Oikawa thought to himself as he slipped off his tracksuit pants to reveal his shorts, slipping on his knee pad and his stupid, dreaded brace, I need to see what they’re like for myself.
Iwaizumi had understood this, Oikawa was sure of it. Not that he had expressed that in any way, or even vaguely hinted towards it. But Iwaizumi always seemed to understand the things he refused to say out loud. He wouldn’t throw the game.