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Shiratorizawa and the first years of various schools were in the middle of a practice match. It was the first match the first years had played with the current lineup for Shiratorizawa, seeing as yesterday was the third-years’ day. Marking the end of the first set, the Shiratorizawa first years flip the cards of the scoreboard to 25 in favor of their team and begin their break, running around as the ball boys they are.
Their team’s setters stood around, catching their breath and drinking some water. Naturally, Goshiki had gravitated away from his fellow first years and towards his own team, namely by his setters. Semi had commented on the deviant middle blocker, Hinata, and his unwarranted appearance at the training camp, ending with Goshiki eagerly standing in front of Ushijima, fueled by Shirabu’s blunt silence.
Watching two prospective aces chatting with one of the top three aces in the nation, Semi smiled a little, proud.
“Semi-san?” he heard somewhere to his side.
“Hm?” He turned to see Shirabu crouched next to a bag.
“Do you have any more tape?”
Semi saw tape peeling away at the edges, sloppily covering Shirabu’s fingers. He turned away to search. “I’ll get it.”
“Thanks,” Shirabu barely muttered.
Holding a roll of tape in his hand, Semi approached Shirabu. “I’ll do it.”
Shirabu held his hand out. “I’ve got it.”
“It’s fine.”
“I can tape up my fingers myself.”
Semi sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “After all this time, you’d think you’d be good at it.”
Shirabu scowled, pulling his hand back in sharply. “I am good at it!”
He rolled his eyes. “Stop fussing. Just let me help.”
Frowning, Shirabu held out his hand again, however, Semi took it in his own and began to walk.
“What?” Shirabu asked. “I thought you wanted to tape my fingers. Where are you going?”
“To sit down so I don’t have to bend over so much while taping.”
Shirabu pressed his lips into a flat, straight line. “I’m not that much shorter than you.”
Semi ignored him. “You don’t get to decide. I’m the one with the tape.”
“You’re insufferable,” he hissed.
“And you’re a brat.” He slid down a wall of a more secluded area of the gym, gesturing for the other boy, pouting, to follow suit. Reluctantly and gingerly, Shirabu sat down next to Semi who held out his hands expectantly.
“Ugh,” he scoffed, putting his hand into Semi’s to allow him to change his tape. He stared at their joint hands as his senior worked, zoning out more than being able to admire his generosity or skill.
“You seem tired,” Semi commented.
“I just played a full set without a break.”
“Mhm,” he hummed mindlessly, setting down Shirabu’s left hand and reaching for his right.
“Hm.”
“What?” Semi looked up.
“You tape quickly.”
He narrowed his eyes. “It’s called being efficient.”
“I just didn’t think you’d be any good.”
“You act like you’ve never seen me tape my fingers or like I’ve never put tape on ever.”
“I don’t pay a lot of attention to you.”
“Uh huh.”
“I’m serious.”
“Who said you weren’t?”
“Whyー?!”
“Excuse me!”
Especially while they sat on the floor, the person interrupting their forthcoming spit towered over them. Semi knew who the player in front of them was because he paid attention. The more aloof Shirabu recognized the large size as it inspired a small feeling of jealousy from the younger setter.
“Do you need something?” Semi wondered.
“You’re both setters, right?” Koganegawa asked.
Semi noticed, even as he looked at the taller setter, that Shirabu had rolled his eyes, leading him to pinch slightly at the skin of the hand he still held.
“Ouch!” he muttered, glaring at his senior, pinching his back slightly.
Again, Semi let go and ignored him, nodding.
“If it’s okay with you, can I ask for some advice?”
“Advice? About what?”
Koganegawa’s elation soon dulled. “I just can’t seem to get a hang of this setting thing.”
“That’s very vague,” Shirabu mumbled a little more audibly.
“Shirabu.”
“What?” He shrugged, meeting Semi’s eyes and having a conversation, simply through the variance of facial expressions. They didn’t notice Koganegawa’s pure confusion at the sudden silence until Shirabu conceded and looked in his direction.
Still, he didn’t address it and just continued. “Can you be more specific? At all?”
It seemed like that could be the opening Koganegawa was looking for to rant, but before anything happened, especially that the two unqualified ‘professionals’ would be woefully unable to handle, Semi said, “You can sit down and talk to us.”
Quickly and all without grace, he sat down in front of the older setters and began to ramble without end. “I’m pretty new at setting. I’ve only played a few official matches as the team’s setter. I’m nothing like Moniwa-san and I think I’m dragging down the team. Somehow, I got to come here to this training camp which helps that insecurity a little, but now I’m with new people that I’m having even more problems matching up with than normal! What should I do?” He leaned forward on his knees, staring at the two.
“I’m sorry,” Semi said in the lull following the rant. “There’s a lot there, so I’ll just try to focus on the actual setting part, since I don’t know you.”
“Oh.” He laughed nervously, scratching his neck and moving back to sit normally.
“I’m not sure what your captain told you about setting, but I’m sure you know that setters are important to a team. It can be really technical, but it can be simple, so keep it simple. Skill is important. Experience is important. Wanting to give others the ball is more important, but what’s most important is wanting to be good. And those things don’t seem like a problem for you. You should remember not to compare yourself to others so much. You’re a starter and you’re only a first year.”
“And,” Shirabu added, “if things don’t go well, you can just try something else; it worked well for Semi-san.”
Though he assumed it probably wasn’t said out of malice, Semi couldn’t help when his face soured at the snide comment. “Yeah, sure. Hopefully that helped. We should be going now.” He gestured to the other players who began setting their bottles and towels down.
Shirabu got up as Semi did so, and offered a hand to his senior. He pulled him up and without so much as a salutation to the one in need of help, he walked away towards the court.
Semi followed a few paces behind, wishing Koganegawa good luck, before he diverged from the path to stand on the sidelines. Koganegawa found himself back on the first-years’ side of the court, where Goshiki came up to him.
He pouted, nearly accusing as he asked,“Why were you talking to Semi-san and Shirabu-san?”
“I asked them for some advice.”
Goshiki paused. “About what?”
“Setting.”
“Oh.” Goshiki looked away and moved towards his spot on the court.
“What did you think I asked them about?” Koganegawa asked, only one position away from him.
“Nothing,” he mumbled.
From behind the two of them, Tsukishima said, “He thought you were asking for dating advice.”
“Tsukishima!” Goshiki’s eyes narrowed and eyebrows scrunched tightly. “That’s not what I meant!”
“Whatever.” Irritated at the shouting, he waved away the oncoming conversation. “We were all thinking it.”
Kunimi, looking straight at the net, nodded from the other side of the court.
“You were?” Goshiki asked. Suddenly he flushed. “Wait, you were ?!”
Koganegawa spun around, looking at all his teammates. “Huh?”
The next day Hinata was passing around jersey’s and couldn’t find number three on Shiratorizawa. He knew he was looking for Semi, a setter/pinch-server with ash blonde hair and a fantastic serve, but he simply couldn’t find him. He jogged over to Shirabu.
“Shirabu-san?”
Shirabu turned around, for once getting the satisfaction of having to look down to meet his eyes.
“Do you know where Semi-san is?”
Shirabu knit his eyebrows. “Why would I know where he is?”
“I thought you were friends. I see Shirabu-san with Semi-san a lot, so can I give you his jersey for him?”
“Uh…” Shirabu didn’t get much of a chance to do anything before Hinata held out the jersey and Shirabu instinctively took it.
While it certainly wasn’t his responsibility to hold onto Semi’s jersey while he was off doing whatever it was he was doing, Shirabu still did. He didn’t even have his own jersey yet, and resigned himself to just sitting down as he waited for the practice matches to start. Soon, he felt a familiar weight on his shoulder, coupled with a sigh.
“Tendou is too much sometimes,” Semi said, eyes closed.
“You mean always,” Shirabu corrected. “What happened?”
“I don’t even know. All I know is the bathroom sink was overflowing and the faucet was covered with a bag.”
“Did you fix it?”
“I’m not a plumber,” he yawned.
Shirabu hummed in agreement, and rested Semi’s jersey over his lap. “Tired?”
There was no response. Shirabu looked over to see Semi’s long eyelashes, instead of awake brown eyes. His breathing was steady against his shoulder, leading him to fear that he actually managed to fall asleep just by resting his head against Shirabu’s shoulder.
“Don’t fall asleep,” Shirabu warned, giving him something in between a pat and slap against his cheek.
Semi severed his connection with Shirabu’s shoulder to sit up straight and stretch. “Fine,” he yawned. He settled on letting his head fall to rest against the wall behind him.
Noticing that he truly was going to just sleep here, Shirabu got up. “I’m going to get you some water.”
“Hm,” he replied, eyes closed once again.
Vaguely, he heard Shirabu’s steps become more and more distant. However, shortly after, he heard steps return.
“Semi-san?” The voice was much higher, more cautious and far less familiar than what he was expecting.
Semi opened his eyes to see Hinata with a stack of jerseys. “Hello.”
He smiled. “Hello! Do you know where Shirabu-san is?”
Truthfully, he wasn’t paying a great deal of attention to what Shirabu had said before he left. “He’ll come back soon.”
“Oh, okay! Can I give you his jersey so you can give it to him when he returns?”
“Sure.” Semi held out his hand and took the jersey.
“Thank you! Excuse me!” Hinata said, turning on his heel and running off.
Semi needlessly replied, “Thanks.” He placed the jersey on top of his own and closed his eyes before he felt a shocking cold against his cheek.
“Agh!” he yelped.
“So you are awake.” Shirabu smirked.
“Ah, water,” Semi vaguely recalled.
“What?”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry.” He took a sip, staring lifelessly somewhere on the floor.
“Is that my jersey?” Shirabu asked.
Completely forgetting, it took Semi a few extra moments to make sense of what he meant. Then, he retrieved Shirabu’s jersey from his lap and handed it to him. Shirabu slipped it on and gestured around the court. “Are you coming?”
Reluctantly, Semi nodded.
Seeing the idleness unwilling to disappear, Shirabu crouched down to take the jersey on Semi’s lap and pull it over his head. Knowing that putting the jersey on the sleepy, unhelpful senior wouldn’t be easy, he settled for leaving it around his neck.
Shirabu pulled away and looked as Semi allowed one eye to open slightly to figure out what was happening. “Scarves suit you. I think.”
Semi closed that eye, though not before using it to give him the stink eye, and inhaled, preparing himself to get up.
“Well done!” Shirabu stood. “You’ve successfully gotten off your ass.”
Finally, both of Semi’s eyes were open, only to be closed with a yawn. He recollected himself to meet Shirabu’s eyes. “You’re annoying.” And he began to walk away, though it wasn’t at a pace that would distance the two of them. In fact, as many of the first years saw, it was the perfect pace to walk side-by-side and talk.
“I think he just called him annoying,” Koganegawa commented.
“They definitely like each other,” Kunimi whispered to Kindaichi.
“It’s probably more than that, don’t you think?”
They watched as Shirabu clasped his hands behind his back and glanced over to Semi on occasion. He seemed to laugh that Semi still hadn’t fixed his jersey, though it didn’t seem to bother Semi. He ruffled his junior’s hair before leaving, fixing his jersey finally, to meet Tendou who seemed to need something from him.
“Wait!” Goshiki butted into the conversation, suddenly very up-in-arms. “You think they’re a… couple?” he whispered the final word, watchfully looking around the gym.
Hinata, somewhere, had appeared to join in, saying, “Well, Semi-san and Shirabu-san spend a lot of time together.”
“So do you and the King,” Tsukishima sneered.
“Tsukishima!”
“That makes sense!” Koganegawa continued. “They’re friends, right?” In particular, he said it anticipating a response from Goshiki, only to receive a look of confusion, contorted with deep thought.
Kindaichi pressed out some of the wrinkles on his jersey after he pulled it over. “It’s okay. They seem to like each other anyway. It doesn’t matter if they’re dating because they seem to get along.”
Still, Goshiki was caught up on the notion that his seniors might be dating. “No!” he murmured. It didn’t make sense as to how or why, much less why he wouldn’t know. “They can’t be dating!” he realized. “Right?”
Finally, the end of the week, and thus the training camp, was here. There were many mixed feelings floating about: many were optimistic of the new skills they had learned while others were saddened to be departed from their friends. Most were tired, exhausted, ready to go home and never have to do something so intense or grueling again.
The Shiratorizawa team was dismissed before the members of the training camp and were dispersed to wash up and go back to their dorms. Soon after, the training camp members followed suit and made their way to the locker rooms.
As expected, the room was empty but quickly filled by the exhausted volleyball players en route to go home and eat a proper meal. The loud, rambunctious first years filled the room with noise, eliciting grimaces from more tired members. Tsukishima, evidently grimacing, found his attention forcibly drifting away from the calamity and towards packing up and going home. He changed into his Karasuno volleyball sweats but noticed he was missing his towel. Hastily, he excused himself to look for it, and once in the hallway, exhaled peacefully. He began wandering the halls, contently knowing that he would never have to be surrounded by these particular idiots ever again. In his bliss, he didn’t hear the distant whispers that became casual conversation.
Half-opened volleyball bags and jackets were strewn at the entrance of a short, narrow branch of the hallway, probably connecting to a storage supply closet. Carefully, Tsukishima quieted his steps as he approached the bags, hearing sleepy, yet unrestrained laughs and giggles. In the dark corridor, he saw the stripes of white more than the grape of sweatpants, recognizing the voices as the setters of Shiratorizawa.
Clear as day, Tsukishima spotted passive jabs laced with warmth, soft, endearing smiles subtle on the lips and shining in the eyes. When one would smile, glowing the room white, the other seemed to slump, basking in adoration of something so beautiful that only they could behold. Any frowns looked obviously fake and were the topic of doting insults and the fuel of laughter. Then, things turned silent.
They sat on opposite walls so they could see each other directly, letting their bent legs naturally tangle between each other’s. Semi rubbed his eyes just as Shirabu yawned. The two didn’t need to look at each other to know what the other did, asking simultaneously, “Are you tired?”
Rouge flooded Shirabu’s cheeks and Semi grinned behind covered hand. Then, he lowered it and offered it to Shirabu. Taking it in his own, still pink, he slid across the floor until he was right in front of Semi. They held each others eyes for longer than Tsukishima would have liked before leaning in, eyes now closed. They kissed.
For longer than Tsukishima would have liked. He was just about to leave to find his towel again when it got silent.
They pulled apart and without hesitation, Shirabu rested his head against Semi’s shoulder. Like a habit, Semi’s hands found their way rubbing Shirabu’s back and cradling his head. Tired and in their own world, they had no idea they were being watched. Tranquil, they didn’t care either way.
Tsukishima turned on his heel and went to find his towel.
“They’re definitely together,” he said as he walked out of the gym, alongside his fellow training camp members.
“Who?” Hinata asked.
Goshiki hesitated, “You mean… Semi-san and Shirabu-san?”
Tsukishima nodded slightly.
“It was obvious,” Kunimi sighed. “How’d you find out though?”
“They were in the corridor when I was looking for my towel.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t a confession? Or friends?” Goshiki offered.
“They looked way too comfortable with each other to not be dating and have probably been dating for a little while now.”
Koganegawa smiled. “Good for them then! Right?” He turned to Goshiki who had already begun walking away. “Hey, Goshiki!” He waved. “Can I get your email?”