Chapter Text
Kageyama Tobio stood in front of the brick wall, bouncing the volleyball against it. The smooth ball pressed down on his calloused fingertips before slamming the wall with a dull thud; he repeated this motion even after his arms began to numb—even after his body begged him to stop. With every bounce came a growing ache, and with every growing ache came a feeling of elation. This is nice, Kageyama thought. This is fun. He smiled.
His fleece coat hugged his small frame, protecting him from December’s chilly air. Here, half an hour away from his house, he felt happy. He didn’t mind the fact that it was his birthday and he had no one to celebrate it with. He didn’t mind not having a cake with seven candles sitting on top of it. He didn’t mind waking up to a lack of presents.
Because here, in some corner of an abandoned street, he had a volleyball.
And he knew, no matter how cold his house became, he would always have this one solitary spot.
It was all he owned.
~~~
One summer day, his mother had been dragging him to the convenience store. Her fingernails bit into his skin as he listened to the sound of her stilettos clicking. The sun’s rays enveloped him in an invisible blanket leaving him with sweaty palms and feet. Still, compared to the suffocation Kageyama felt when inside his house, being outside liberated him.
His mother said nothing. Her eyes, both containing swirls of red, squinted every so often. Her mane looked like a jungle; with an uneven parting and random clumps of hair that looked thicker than the rest, Kageyama knew she hadn’t brushed it in a while. It didn’t matter how demonic she looked, however, because she never opened her mouth. She was a silent woman, and Kageyama could deal with that.
As they walked, his mother must have taken a wrong turn as the buildings he saw around them were not the buildings he usually saw when walking to 7-Eleven. These were the buildings he saw when walking to his corner of the abandoned street. A lump formed at the back of his throat. For some reason, he didn’t want his mother to see this place. It felt like she was intruding—like she heard a secret that had never meant to reach her ears. It felt like all kinds of wrong. He wanted to tell her to stop. She shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t fair.
His mouth opened and closed but the words wouldn’t leave the tip of his tongue. When he lifted his head to look at his mother, he saw her gazing into the distance, unaware of her surroundings. There’s no point in speaking, his mind concluded.
Soon, the brick wall came into view. He realised he hadn't a clue what the wall enclosed. What did it hide? What stood on the other side? With the volleyball sitting in his hands as he bounced it against the wall, he never thought about things like that (never thought about anything, to be honest). But looking at it from a distance, he couldn't help feeling curious.
His mother stopped, almost allowing Kageyama to fall with the abruptness. Her cloudy eyes surveyed the area around them. She muttered a swear word under her breath before hauling him towards the next turn.
The wall remained in its corner at the end of the road, standing on top of a stretch of concrete. No life, animal nor plant, existed within its territory. Kageyama thought it looked lonely, and then he thought he was being stupid because objects cannot feel loneliness.
Right before the two of them made the turn, he saw the faint silhouette of a head appear from behind the wall as if the owner of it had been climbing it. And just as quickly as this person materialised, he forgot he ever saw them.
That night, he found himself dreaming of chestnut hair and volleyballs.
~~~
A ten-year-old Kageyama Tobio ran down the street, tears staining his cheeks as he sniffled. Tiny rocks cut into the soles of his feet; he had dashed out the front door too swiftly to have time to take his shoes. People leered at him as he ran but he gave them no notice. He wanted to run to the safety of the wall. Even if he lacked a ball, he still needed to escape to the spot. It was the only place he could go.
His erratic running came to a halt when his right foot moved in front of his left, causing him to trip. Gravel scraped his skin when he fell to the ground, sending surges of pain through his body. A muffled wail escaped his lips. His hands lay limply in front of his head.
“Hey, are you okay?”
He looked up to see a short boy with ginger hair staring at him with wide eyes. In response to the boy’s concerned question, he only let out a throaty cry. The boy reached out his hand for Kageyama to take. He blinked a few times before holding it, allowing the other boy to help him to his feet.
The shorter grinned, his smile stretching across his entire face, and began shaking Kageyama’s hand with too much excitement for his liking. “I’m Hinata Shoyo!” he exclaimed, the smile never leaving his face.
He sniffled again. “Um, I’m Kageyama.”
“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”
“Kageyama,” he said a little louder.
“You know, Kageyama, that’s one nasty bruise you’ve got on your cheek!”
Instinctively, Kageyama pulled back his hand to cover his face. For a split second, he felt like Hinata was making fun of him. But the boy had nothing but kindness pooling in his eyes.
He didn’t reply yet the boy didn’t care. “You’re not even wearing shoes! That seems dangerous. I can see cuts on your knees and elbows, too!”
“Shut up,” Kageyama muttered softy, his voice containing no strength. “You’re shouting too much.”
Hinata ignored the harsh words and continued to fuss over him, even when he wouldn’t say much in response. The ginger’s curiosity annoyed him, but the more Hinata spoke, the less his wounds hurt.
~~~
“Hey, Yamayama?” Hinata asked from beside him. The two of them sat on a grassy slope as they observed cars and bikes pass by.
“I told you not to call me that, dumbass,” Kageyama said, smacking Hinata on his crown.
“Alright, alright! So don’t hit me, jeez.” The shorter paused as if to organise his thoughts before continuing. “Teach me to play volleyball. It looks so cool when you do it!”
“Maybe.”
“Wait? Really? You’ll really, really, do it?
“I said, ‘Maybe.’”
“Can you take me to that super-secret spot you practice at, too?”
Kageyama averted his gaze from his friend. His fingers picked a wildflower from the ground before spinning it in his hands. “It doesn’t have a net so it won’t be very helpful.” He sniffed the yellow flower, finding solace in its heady scent.
“But you’re always talking about how nice it is! Come on, Kageyama, won’t you help a friend out?” Even though he wasn’t looking, Kageyama knew his friend was trying his best to be cute.
Sighing, he leaned back on his hands. “Maybe,” and then, after a moment of silence, “if you stop being such an idiot.” He snickered.
“Hey! You’re being mean again!”
“You shout too much, moron.”
“Stop coming up with a new insult every single time!”
“Alright, dumbass.”
“Don't insult me anyways! You're the real moron, Idiot-yama.”
"That's so bad. You suck at insults." Kageyama giggled at his friend's dramatised frustration. He threw the flower away.
"Hey, Kageyama?"
"Mm?"
Hinata turned his head around as if to make sure they were alone and whispered, "Have you got your soulmark yet? Better yet, have you met your soulmate?"
A gust of wind sent Kageyama's black locks flowing backwards. Soulmates. He knew about them, of course. Classmates talked about them at school, novels contained nothing but stories about soulmates and he'd even seen a strange marking on his mother's back last summer at the pool. However, after he asked her about it, she clicked her tongue and walked away. His father mentioned the topic only to tell Kageyama he'd never have one—people born without soulmates received the nickname "Drifters" for a reason the raven-haired boy didn't know—or that, even if he did have a soulmate, they wouldn't want him.
"I haven't," he said as he fiddled with the grass. "Have you?"
"I haven't either. It's taking way too long. It's so nerve-wracking, you know? But it's also exciting."
Maybe to Hinata, but Kageyama's father's words occupied his mind. The ginger reminded him of sunshine; people who talked to him always ended up smiling. Everything about his personality seemed infectious. No matter who his soulmate would end up being, they'd have no problem loving him. Kageyama felt like he was the opposite—if Hinata was sunshine, Kageyama was rain. People either didn't like him or thought him scary. When he walked into the classroom, everyone's mood dampened. Unlike Hinata, he couldn't formulate sentences properly or read social queues, leading him to be labelled "awkward".
Sometimes, his mind would wander. In these moments, a plethora of what-ifs would invade his brain. What if my soulmate does like me? What if they don't care about how strange I am? What if they found it in themselves to love me? Every time, the memory of his father mocking him for his desires interrupted his pleasant thoughts.
"Sure, I guess," Kageyama said, careful not to let his emotions seep into his voice.
"You know what sucks?"
"What?"
"That we don't know when we'll get our soulmarks. The other day, Natsu's friend got his soulmark and he's only seven! Mum and dad got theirs when they were fifteen. And in some extremely rare cases, people don't get theirs until their twenties."
"I mean, I guess it doesn't change anything. You'll still eventually get your soulmark. When that happens, you can write to each other on your arms to find out who they are."
"I know, but it still sucks. Koji said because my parents got it late, I'll probably get it late too." Kageyama hummed as Hinata kept talking. "When did your parents get theirs?"
Kageyama stilled. Suddenly, his t-shirt and shorts felt much too tight as they clung to his skin. He became aware of how the sun shined much too bright for spring, and how Hinata sat much too close for his liking. "I don't know," he said. "We don't talk about that stuff."
"Lucky you. My parents don't shut up about how they first met and soulmates and stuff. It gets on my nerves, you know?"
"Sure."
The pair fell into an uneasy silence (uneasy for Kageyama. Given how thickheaded the ginger was, he remained oblivious to his friend's discomfort). As he was about to break it, Hinata delved into a lengthy conversation about his twelfth birthday party. To anyone else, such a curious change of topic would be confusing. Kageyama had grown used to his best friend's ramblings.
He looked at the smaller and smirked. "Hinata, you kind of look like a tangerine."
Ignoring the bewildered screeching from his friend, he watched a truck drive by.
Soulmates be damned. All he needed was the boy next to him. It's okay, he decided. I'm okay.
Maybe he would teach Hinata volleyball.