Chapter Text
Handcuffs slide off of Kageyama’s wrists with a metallic clink, and he pads out the doors of the police station, sparing a moment to glare through the window at a scowling officer. Sure, he’d been caught, but that spiky red-haired asshole had nothing to show for it. No evidence, no valid suspicion, no reward. To the police, Kageyama is just a nameless face in the crowd. (Of course, little do they know.) But now, the more pressing issue is no longer the threat of criminal charges, but his team who left him behind to be arrested.
It was such a simple operation. Could something so bad have happened that warranted his only family abandoning him? Or is his leader’s — former leader’s petty hatred really so strong? Whatever it is, Kageyama has no plans to go back. If they can do it once, they can do it again.
He takes in a breath of the cool afternoon air and gazes down the street, looking for nothing in particular. He just needs something to build off of, get him moving in one direction. But he doesn’t really have many options, with no real family to speak of and a list of enough criminal acts to land him in the slammer for a nice sum of years.
To his side, from down the sidewalk, two distinctive men approach the station: a lanky blonde appearing as if he wishes to be absolutely anywhere else, accompanied by a slightly shorter man, with bleached silver hair and a smile so wide it could rival the sun (or that of a circus clown, Kageyama thinks). The silver-haired one raises his hand in a wave, pleasantly greeting someone in Kageyama’s direction. He turns around— and there’s no one behind him.
He whips his head back towards the two new arrivals. Mr. Pleasant (Kageyama prides himself on the nickname, but retracts it after realizing it’s something his former employer would smile upon) lowers his hand, cheery grin replaced by a sly smirk, eyes set with a determined gleam. They halt a few feet in front of Kageyama and the blonde pushes his glasses up his snooty nose.
“Kageyama Tobio-san?” The silver-haired man’s voice certainly matches his outward demeanor, but it masks a scheme.
Kageyama’s brow sets and he scowls at the pair. “Who are you?”
The man nudges his tall friend. “Well? Be polite, say hello.”
The blonde huffs and nudges his glasses up his nose again. “Pleasantries are unnecessary. Kageyama, is it? What exactly is your involvement with Aoba Johsai?”
Kageyama starts, dark eyes widening. “What do you want?” he growls, “Who are you?”
These guys have to be detectives or something. They’re in front of a police station for crying out loud. Hardly anyone should know the name of the organization which clearly has no intention of coming to his rescue, unless they’re police or otherwise in the loop.
“Nobody you haven’t heard of.” The blonde rolls his eyes, his voice laced with boredom. “The question is, would you really like to discuss this in earshot of the police? Or would you like to take it somewhere private?”
Kageyama simply glares. Trusting others is what gets you left behind. Trusting others is what leads to you winding up alone in every sense of the word.
“Ahem. If you would, Suga-san?”
Suga. Kageyama swears he’s heard the name (alias?) somewhere, though it certainly isn’t the name of any cop he’s familiar with.
The silver-haired man—apparently Suga—pulls a small notepad from the inner pocket of his black jacket and hands it to his partner, who flips to the middle.
“Wednesday, 9:04 a.m.,” he reads monotonously, “three Aoba Johsai operators arrive outside Takahashi Bank, led by Oikawa Tōru. Getaway driver, Kageyama Tobio, pulls away to adjacent neighborhood street. Minute five, Aoba Johsai operators enter the bank. Minute forty-seven, Aoba Johsai operators do not regroup with getaway driver and return alone to their home base in—”
Kageyama slaps a hand over the man’s mouth, cutting off his reading. He does not need a verbal reminder of how he’d been abandoned, much less coming from whoever the hell this guy is.
When he’s sure the blonde is quiet, he removes his hand and sighs, resigned. “What do you want to know?”
Suga claps his hands together. “Great! Why don’t you follow us?”
He glances at the station and something catches his eye through the window. Kageyama follows his gaze to a stern looking officer, black hair and broad shoulders, eyeing the trio suspiciously. Suga shoots him a wink, then brushes by Kageyama, indicating to follow him with a wave of his hand.
“C’mon, kiddos, I’m not getting any younger here- Oh!” Suga spins around and walks backwards. “Tsukishima, send word to Yamaguchi that we’re bringing a guest. We don’t want to set off a panic.” He turns back around in a swift motion and continues in his even strides as Tsukishima pulls out a flip phone.
Yamaguchi — the hacker? Kageyama is sure he’s heard the name Suga before and has certainly heard the name Yamaguchi — and Tsukishima, for that matter, but he’s never known any details — just names Oikawa has always tiptoed lightly around. Just who are these guys? And- why is he going along with this?
After just ten minutes of walking, Kageyama and Tsukishima both expressing their displeasure with one another all the way, they arrive at… a hideout, Kageyama thinks? The dilapidated, concrete office building doesn’t exactly look cozy. To start with, there’s no door, just a gaping hole in the side of the building blocked off with a wire fence. Half the windows are shattered, except for on the very top floor, where they’re covered from the inside with tarps and wooden planks. Frankly, Kageyama thinks it’s a wonder the place is still standing.
He turns to Suga. “Kinda gutsy basing yourself so close to the police station, isn’t it? Seems like a stupid idea.”
Suga winks. “That’s why it’s so perfect.”
Kageyama starts forward, planning to scale the fence, when he feels a hand on his shoulder, halting him.
“That’s a stupid idea,” Tsukishima says, glaring down at him. “Good way to get yourself arrested. Again.”
“Ah, he doesn’t know any better. Come on,” Suga waves, “it’s this way.”
He leads them around to the back of the building, where there’s a fire escape ladder leading all the way to an unblocked window on the top floor.
Joy.
“The building was abandoned years ago,” Suga explains as they climb, “but the guy who owns the lot doesn’t have the money to demolish it, so he keeps it under video surveillance. Doesn’t want thugs or crazy teenagers running loose on his property, I guess.”
“We had Yam—we disabled the cameras on just the top floor.” Tsukishima picks up explaining from below Kageyama on the ladder.
Kageyama guesses it makes sense. Disabling security through the whole building would be suspicious. If it’s only the very top floor, someone may just assume the power cut out in only one place, which wouldn’t be cause for concern if the rest of the building is considered secure. These guys definitely aren’t dumb. It’s something Oikawa would come up with if he cared to keep himself anonymous.
When Suga reaches the top of the ladder, he slips in through the window, then pokes his head back out, motioning for Kageyama to wait. Suga dips back inside and a raspy, all-too-loud voice greets him. Another echoes behind it, more reserved, then another loud one, more squeaky and obnoxious than the first. There’s some discussion and the shuffling of feet, then Suga appears in the window again and waves for them to follow.
Kageyama steps down from the window ledge into a room empty of any of the voices he heard moments ago. It appears to have once been some kind of conference space, but has since been converted into a sort of living area, with a futon, a few mismatched chairs, and a minifridge. There’s a single house plant in the corner, which looks decently taken care of. It’s drafty, thanks to the opening behind him, but it definitely beats the exterior.
“This way,” Suga says. He leads him out of the room and across the hallway, while Tsukishima turns to the left and heads elsewhere.
Suga brings him into a room empty save for a small table and two chairs, seated opposite of each other, and motions for Kageyama to sit. He closes the glass door and stands in front of him. He doesn’t speak, and Kageyama realizes he’s waiting for him to.
“Why did you let me in here? Why should I trust you? What do you want from me and how the hell do you know who I am—?”
Suga throws up his hands. “One at a time!”
“Who are you?”
“Ah, where are my manners.” He gives a slight bow. “Sugawara Kōshi,” and he sticks out his hand. “Officially, our little group here is called Karasuno. But you may know us… as the Crows.”
Every muscle in Kageyama’s body seizes. This is Sugawara? Right hand to the leader of the ruthless (occasionally arsonistic) Crows? This is the man who makes even someone like Oikawa take precautions. And he’s offering Kageyama a handshake with the brightest smile he’s ever seen.
Regardless of who he is, he’d be lying if he said he isn’t the slightest bit grateful to Suga for taking him in, but another part of his brain wants to be much more cautious.
Instead of taking Suga’s hand, he says, “So why would you bring me here?”
Suga hums and sits. “Can you tell me what happened at the station?” he asks, rather than answering the question.
“If you have intel on the entire operation, how do you not know that?”
“Yamaguchi’s not been able to get access to cams inside the station yet, I’m afraid,” Suga says.(He truly spares no detail, Kageyama notes. Anyone who doesn’t know of the man’s genius reputation would think his articulacy foolish). “Someone in there must have taken extra precautions. Plus,” Suga rubs the back of his neck, “it kinda feels like cheating, doesn’t it?”
Kageyama shifts in his seat, then decides to give a little. Suga is sparing few details, likely hoping to encourage Kageyama to do the same. If he’s too stubborn, he could lose sight of wherever this is going.
“One of their officers—Tendō, I think?—was patrolling or something, I dunno. Saw me sitting in the car, at the side street where I was waiting for Oikawa-san, and he suspected me of being involved, so he took me in. He didn’t have anything to back it up, just a hunch. So they let me go.”
Suga hums in thought, holding his chin in his fingers. “He was right though. And just based on a hunch,” he mutters. “Damn that guy. Y’know, I’ve had a number of close calls with him, and he’s not even on the team assigned to investigate us. He’s a pretty scary dude.”
Kageyama nods, then part of his brain laughs at himself. Here he is, agreeing with his former boss’s biggest rival.
“So… why?”
“Hm?”
“Why’d you come find me? Why would you let someone who’s, for all you know, loyal to Oikawa-san, waltz into your hideout?”
Suga leans forward. “Kageyama, do you have anywhere to go?”
“What?” He supposes he doesn’t, but what does that have to do with the question at hand? “I mean… no? But—”
“Would you consider joining us?”
Kageyama’s brain short-circuits. He just offered what?
His confusion must show on his face, and Suga continues. “The only one the boss and I have discussed this with is Tsukishima. His sight reaches pretty far, and he’s been keeping tabs on you. Listen, you’re talented. Oikawa’s been wasting your skill for a long time. If you join us, it works out for both of us; you have somewhere to go and people to support you, and we gain another asset. Plus,” Suga chuckles, “it’s always good to get one up on Oikawa.”
The scowl returns to Kageyama’s face. He had tiptoed around giving this guy as much information as he already has, but now he expects Kageyama to trust him enough to join them? That’s where he draws the line. Trusting others just gets you hurt.
“You’re hesitating,” Suga says. Kageyama blinks at him. “I get it. But you should see something.” He pulls a folded envelope from his pocket and slides it across the table.
Kageyama’s breath hitches at the contents: a stack of photos. Photos of him and of Oikawa. During ops, entering and exiting the hideout, stealing a police car (how did they even get a picture of that?). While photos might not serve as perfect, solid evidence, Kageyama has no doubt someone like Tendō could run marathons with this footage.
“We have enough evidence of your involvement with Oikawa to get you locked away for a long, long time. Consider my offer, and this doesn’t get leaked to the police.”
Kageyama shoots him a piercing glare. “You’d be giving them reason to suspect you, too.”
“Well that’s nothing new—”
“And if this is all you have over me, what’s stopping me from ratting you out, too?”
Suga blinks. “Well, nothing, I guess. But trust goes both ways.”
Kageyama… has no idea what to think. In one day, he goes from helping with a routine bank robbery to being abandoned by the only people he had left to… being offered a chance. Maybe not a new leaf, but a new start, of sorts.
Voices sound from down the hallway, growing nearer. Two people pass by the door—one a tall, lean build, with hair that vaguely reminds Kageyama of upside-down pineapple leaves. A kind yet mildly flustered smile crosses his features as he listens politely to the person chattering next to him. This one is shorter—much, much shorter, with a mop of orange hair bouncing with each of his steps. His smile as he talks doesn’t quite remind Kageyama of Suga’s pleasant expression. No, this one is much wilder. Free, gleaming like the sun itself. The short one casts a curious glance through the glass, and something pulls at Kageyama when amber eyes meet his own.
...Fine, he’ll play along.
Kageyama turns back to Suga. “What’s your offer?”
“Whatever you earn.”
Definitely a more satisfying answer than anything he’d get from Oikawa. However much I think you deserve. He can picture the snobby man’s smirk.
“Do you really have another option?”
And he doesn’t and Kageyama knows that. Suga knows it and Oikawa definitely knows it.
Shit. He’s really about to agree to this, isn’t he?
“...Fine. Fine. But after a month, if I decide I’m out, then I’m out. We can strike a deal when and if it comes to that.”
Suga shoots out of his chair and claps his hands together, spinning around and whispering a triumphant yes to himself. "Okay! So, first off we'll—wait," he turns back to Kageyama, "I'm guessing you don't have any belongings?"
"Besides the ones at Seijoh's base?" Kageyama spits, "No. We don't all carry emergency toothbrushes."
"Though you do carry around a nail file, funnily enough."
"Wh-"
Suga holds a thin black file between two fingers and titters, seeming quite pleased with himself. Kageyama fishes around in the right pocket of his jacket. Empty.
“How did you—”
“Come on, then.” Suga throws open the door and sticks his head into the hall. He inhales and cups a hand around his mouth, then— “NISHINOYA!”
Kageyama nearly flinches at the volume he wouldn’t have thought possible from this (admittedly) charming man. He hears the squeaking of shoes against the tiled floor, then pattering footsteps coming up the hall. He joins Suga in the doorway just as “Nishinoya” arrives. And Kageyama gapes.
To call this man (boy?) short would be an understatement; Kageyama has at least twenty centimeters over him, and though he can see the lean muscles on his exposed arms, his spiked hair may be taller than his shoulders are wide.
The Short One gives a toothy grin and a two-finger salute to Suga. “Suga-san! Sorry, I was listening to Tsukishima grumble about ‘some snotty brat’ that showed up. Honestly, you’d think that kid would—”
Nishinoya cuts off his own mile-a-minute rambling when his eyes fall on Kageyama, who shifts uncomfortably under his intense gaze.
“Who’s that?”
“This—” Suga cups his hands over Kageyama’s shoulders and leans into him as if he were an old friend—“is Kageyama! He’ll be staying with us for a while, so why don’t you show him around and introduce the guys?”
Nishinoya looks dubiously back and forth between Kageyama and Suga before the grin stretches across his face again. “Hell yeah! Come on, dude!”
Before he knows what’s happening, Nishinoya’s hand wraps around his wrist and he tugs him out of the interrogation room. Once they’re out in the hall, he pauses.
“Suga-san, how come you brought him instead of Ukai-san?”
Suga waves him off with his hand. “Ukai-san is on vacation with his husband—which you would have known if you woke up before noon yesterday.” Suga narrows his eyes at his friend and blows out one of his cheeks, though there’s clearly no real malice behind it.
It’s something Kageyama never had with Aoba Johsai, not really—real comradeship. A community. He never noticed he missed out on that, he realizes. He’d always chalked up his life under Oikawa as… the usual. But he’s been here not half an hour and can already feel how different the atmosphere of the base is from Aoba Johsai’s, with the refreshing way they address each other and how they slip easily into banter.
Nishinoya snickers and punches Kageyama’s shoulder, pointing at Suga. “This guy, huh? C’mon, let’s introduce you to the others!”
Kageyama gives Suga his deepest bow; he really should be grateful. Despite the suspicious circumstances, this man probably saved his ass. He turns and follows Nishinoya down the hall, lengthening his strides to keep up with his enthusiasm-fueled speed.
He looks over his shoulder at Suga, who’s pulled out a phone similar to the one Tsukishima had used. His brow furrows as he looks at it, an expression that seems almost foreign to his face. Kageyama can appreciate it, honestly. A leader of an underground criminal group, but first and foremost a friend to his members.
Yes, Kageyama has a feeling Karasuno will be very different from Aoba Johsai. And in a good way, he wants to hope.