Chapter Text
“Not even December yet and it’s already colder than Kageyama’s sense of humor,” Ryunosuke Tanaka growled, burrowing deeper into the collar of his thick jacket. The Tobio Kageyama in question turned a cool gray stare onto their friend, but didn’t risk a reply. That would mean untucking their scarf from around their face and braving the cold, and that was something the team’s setter was not willing to do.
“Tanaka,” Koshi Sugawara stuttered between chattering teeth, “be nice pl-please. Kageyama has a sm-small sense of humor, I’m sure.”
Daichi Sawamura, the volleyball team’s captain, grinned widely and ruffled Suga’s silver hair. “That’s my sweet vice-president, always looking out for the children.” A flush crept up the 3rd year’s cheeks and ears, but most of the team pretended not to notice. The awkward relationship between their two 3rd year officers was blossoming into something wonderful. The only thing the boys questioned was why it had taken so goddamn long for Daichi to work up the nerve to ask Suga out.
Two 1st years, one tall, blond, with glasses and the other shorter with dark hair and freckles, passed by their upperclassmen with judging stares. A lazy hand reached up to adjust his glasses and Kei Tsukishima opened his mouth to make a snarky comment about their behavior. Fortunately Tadashi Yamaguchi was there to restrain him with a touch and a simple shake of the head. The two were practically inseparable, though oftentimes it seemed as if Tsukishima was aloof or annoyed by Yamaguchi’s presence.
“So when is this new member joining, again?” Yu Nishinoya said anxiously, for perhaps the thirty-fourth time. Ever since the rambunctious, 5’2 libero had received word that the new transfer student was “very small” according to his previous coach’s referral letter, he had been dying to meet him. The next shortest member was Suga: standing at 5’8 inches with his boyfriend at only an inch taller. Kageyama and Tsukishima, both first years, stood at 5’11 and 6’2 respectively, and their resident ace Asahi Azumani balanced them out at exactly 6 feet tall.
“We’re not sure,” Suga answered as their school came into view down the road. “Takeda said he’d be at practice tomorrow, but someone needs to bring him the paperwork and club fee forms tonight. Preferably a first year.”
All eyes fell on Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. As sarcastic and cruel as Tsukishima was, he could at least fake interest well, and Yamaguchi was honest and sweet as honey--perfect for enticing a new member to join the club. Both immediately shook their heads.
“We’ve got a test to make up for chemistry, that’s a no-go,” Yamaguchi offered. “Send someone else.”
“There is no one el-”
“I’ll go.”
Silence colder than the winter air spread thickly across the group.
“Kageyama,” Daichi said cautiously, when it seemed as if no one else would speak, “we’re not saying you’d be a bad fit to visit, but we were hoping whoever went would, you know . . . Socialize a little. Get to know the new guy?”
The setter stopped at the door to the school and tugged their scarf down. Black bangs fell down past their dark eyebrows, but they brushed them back distractedly.
“Yeah, I know. I’ll do it after school. Just give me the paperwork and his address.” Reluctantly Sugawara pulled out the paperwork. Long fingers took the sheets from Suga before they disappeared inside Karasuno.
Even though the warm interior of their high school beckoned through the glass, the volleyball team remained outside for a few seconds, exchanging confused stares. Gusts of wind tugged their hair insistently while the temperature continued to drop.
“He’s never volunteered for something like that before,” Suga mumbled. “I wonder what’s up.”
Tanaka gasped suddenly, causing the other boys to jump. “Maybe Kageyama, our precious setter, has been abducted by aliens! He’s got probes in his brain! We should--”
“You should shut your fucking mouth, Ryunosuke,” Noya laughed, smacking his taller friend upside the head. “I’m sure Kageyama’s mother just told him to make more friends. Let’s go inside before we freeze to death.”
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Kageyama hadn’t always known they were agender. For the first dozen years of their life, being called a boy was the most natural thing in the world. They never thought to question that gender was different from sex, and growing up in a strict Japanese household hadn’t exposed them to many variations of either. It was when they met Sugawara, the previous setter for Karasuno before Kageyama arrived, that the questions started. Suga was genderfluid, but for simplicity’s sake he kept male pronouns (their vice-president was always more concerned about the ease for others). He often went out on dates with Daichi in pretty pastel dresses or showed up to rehearsal in flowery headbands and bows. Kageyama, introverted and isolated from any deep friendships on the team, had not informed the 3rd year about the distress this was causing them, and the confusion that socked them in the stomach every time they looked into a mirror. This was something they would have to figure out for themself.
After practice a few weeks ago, they had casually picked a silver hair bow out of Suga’s bag and put it in their jacket pocket. For five days they did not touch, look, or even think about it until their parents went out on an errand. Then Kageyama stepped into their mother’s bathroom and tucked back their bangs with the large, shimmery bow. They stopped breathing for a few moments until the panic faded from their gray-blue irises and their breath stopped coming quite so fast. Then they pulled out the eyeliner and mascara their mother kept beneath her sink and calmly applied it with steady hands. When they were done, the term “genderfluid” echoing around their head, the mirror reflected exactly what was expected: Kageyama in makeup with a bow in their hair. “Girl” or “female” never entered their head, so they sat down on the floor--well away from the window, lest a neighbor glance in and see the Kageyama’s son in makeup--and pulled out their phone.
Words related to genderfluid: genderqueer, transgender, agender
Thanks to their literature class, they knew that “a” meant “without.”
Without gender? Not he or she . . . They.
For the next half hour Kageyama absorbed every piece of information available about their new label. Everything began to make sense the more they read, and the world opened up with a rush of light and sound. But actually it was just the garage door, as Kageyama’s parents returned home. Fear flooded their chest and they snatched up the nearest paper towel roll and began frantically cleaning the makeup from their angular eyes. By the time the door opened the teenager was in their bed with a book open on their legs. The random page held no meaning, they just wanted to make it look like they had been doing something. Footsteps echoed on the stairs.
The bow.
No time to think. No place to hide it. Kageyama tugged on the fabric and the clip that attached it to their hair, but it was stuck. It won’t come out, why won’t it come out?
“Tobio?” Their mother called casually through the door. “Are you still awake?”
Gritting their teeth, Kageyama ripped out the bow along with a few dozen of their hair. Scalp aching, they stuffed the damning item under their pillow just as their mother pushed open the door. She smiled warmly at her son and tapped her wrist.
“It’s almost midnight, Tobio, and you’ve got school tomorrow.” Cautiously, as if her child would kick her out if she drew too close, Mrs. Kageyama perched on the edge of their bed. “Do you need a ride tomorrow?”
“No mom,” they mumbled, rubbing the corner of one eye. “I can walk, just like I always do.”
She sighed. “I just worry you know. I know you’re almost grown-up, but to me you’re still my little boy.”
Kageyama hid a wince. Boy. That’s what I am, right?
“Go to sleep darling, you’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” She had pressed a kiss to their forehead and left without ever seeing the tears pooling in her child’s eyes.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
That was why Tobio Kageyama, the most stoic and isolated member of the Karasuno volleyball team, was so interested in going to this new kid’s house. In fact, they would have preferred anyone’s house to their own. Every time one of their parents called them “son” or “young man” a shudder would go through their core. It was just so wrong. It wasn’t as bad when their teammates did it, but it still left a mark, just as the skin from the bow was still slightly tender, even after a week.
Shoyo Hinata’s house was nondescript: green shutters on a cream finish with black tiles on the sloping roof. One story, maybe a finished basement, just enough for two parents and their “very small” child. Kageyama knocked on the door. With barely a pause it opened, and a woman with dark orange hair and light brown eyes beamed out at him. The crown of her hair barely reached Kageyama’s shoulder.
“Hello! Please come inside.” The teen was bustled out of the cold into this strange home, immediately assaulted with the smell of baked goods and a swell of orchestral music. “I hope you like banana bread, it’s fresh out of the oven. Do you have the paperwork for Shoyo?”
There was an awkward pause as they struggled to sort through the sensory overload of the Hinata household.
“. . . Yes? I mean, y-yes I like banana bread and yes I have Hinata’s papers. Sorry. I’m Tobio Kageyama, I’m in his year at school.”
If anything, her smile grew even wider as she regarded Kageyama’s struggling. “Well you seem like a nice boy. And calling him “Hinata,” so polite. Shoyo’s doing some remodeling in his room so it’s an awful mess, but why don’t you have a seat in the living room. I’ll send him down and bring you guys some bread and milk.”
Before she had even finished talking, Kageyama was standing in the living room and the mother’s voice was trailing away up the stairs. They sat down on a worn leather chair in the center of the room and folded their hands between their knees. Unpacked boxes were stacked in the corner, filled with family photos and scrapbooks. Kageyama had to fight the urge to stand up and paw through the boxes, just for something to do. Practically nothing was more awkward than being alone in a strange home.
“Who are you?”
Or maybe not fully alone? There was an incredibly small girl with bright ginger hair standing at the room’s entrance with a scowl on her face.
“I’m, uh . . . I’m your brother’s friend.”
“No you aren’t.” Without any invitation, she ventured closer until she was practically standing on Kageyama’s size 13 feet. “Sho doesn’t have any friends. We just got here.”
“Volleyball. I’m on his volleyball team . . . I have paperwork.” Stupid. Like this little girl is going to understand what I’m bringing to her big brother.
“Natsu, you’re not bothering our guest . . . Are you?” Mrs. Hinata had returned with a plate of warm banana bread slices and two mugs of milk. The look she gave her daughter was surprisingly stern, but Natsu just put on a sheepish grin and skipped out of the room. “I apologize for my daughter, sometimes she thinks she has more power than she actually does. Shoyo should be down in a minute, Tobio dear, just be a bit patient.”
“I’m in no rush, Mrs. Hinata. Thank you for the milk.” After a final soft smile, she disappeared back into the house. Kageyama relaxed into the cushions of the chair, exhaling deeply.
This is home, Kageyama thought to themself. Warm bread and friendly banter between parent and child, not separation and take-out if anyone remembers to give me money.
“Kageyama?”
Instinctively they rose at the sweet, rich voice, and got their first look at Shoyo Hinata.
He was small. Taller than Noya, granted, but his hair added a few centimeters to his height. Every lock of that flaming orange mane was going in a separate direction, like each piece was repelled by another. Thick lashes framed eyes like liquid amber, and the nose between them was tilted up in a ski slope sprayed with freckles. He smiled wide with straight, white teeth. Lean muscle was visible on his thin arms and calves. Obviously he was no novice to hard work or volleyball conditioning. So intent on drinking up this human sun ray with their eyes, Kageyama realized the silence was descending into discomfort.
“I’m Kageyama, y-yes. Tobio Kageyama. Nice to meet you, Hinata, I’ve got your paperwork.”
The boy rolled his eyes at the stack in his teammate’s hand and snatched up a piece of bread.
“Better get started then,” he mumbled around his food. “I’d like to have this done before practice tomorrow.”
“It shouldn’t take too long. These forms always look threatening, but it’s just a bunch of useless words and blank spaces. Kind of like our wing spiker, Tanaka.”
Hinata almost choked on his bread and a laugh simultaneously. They handed him a mug and the boy gulped it gratefully. After it was certain he wasn’t going to choke to death, he shot a stunning smile in Kageyama’s direction.
“Tobio Kageyama, I have a feeling we’ll get along just fine!”