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Hinata leaps high and slams the ball as hard as he can. It snags on the net, teeters dangerously for a moment, and falls to the other side of the court with a gentle thud. He grits his teeth as he marches back to the basket full of volleyballs. Not enough.
"One more," he breathes out.
The ticking of the clock echoes loudly across the empty gym. He's technically not allowed in here this late, but he doesn't care. Not when Nationals are so close.This is his second year of high school, and after this, he'll have only one year left to leave a mark on his high school volleyball career. Multiple agencies will be watching the nationals like a hawk, discussing amongst themselves who they'd choose to advance into professional volleyball. No one talks about it, but deep down, it’s in everyone’s mind.
And he can’t let Kageyama, Tsukishima, or anyone else move forward without him.
"What have you been doing for the past 3 years?”
He feels the frustration towards his own slow progress build underneath his skin, and he channels it all to his next jump serve. The ball slams outside the line.
Out.
He groans in frustration and stomps back to the pile to grab another ball. He can't afford to fall back. Not when he's so close to catching up to them.
He poses to do another jump serve.
In.
Hinata sighs in relief. In hindsight, he knows he’s gotten better — so much better — than last year. He’s worked really hard on his receives, and his serves are a little more decent now. Maybe he has grown a lot more than his other teammates, considering how he truly did start from the bottom.
But just because he has improved more than anyone else, it doesn’t mean he’s on par with everyone else.
And deep down, Hinata knows it better than anyone around him.
His chest twinges at the memory of his middle school years. It’s another weight he has to carry on his shoulders, pushing him to work harder than everyone else to make up for all the time he lost due to the lack of privilege of having a well-rounded team.
He’s thankful for the team he has now, grateful for all the help he’s received — from his seniors who have graduated to all of the teams he got to play against in training camps.
But he can’t ignore the huge gap that still puts him apart from people like Oikawa and Ushijima. Admiration and envy swirl in his gut at the thought of the two most powerful player he’s determined to beat.
Envy is a bitter, toxic mixture that he’s all too familiar with. It’s a poison that he comes across time and time again. He gulps it in unwillingly whenever he remembers that he was born without the privilege of height that others have been so blessed with. He sips it in small doses whenever he’s reminded of the lack of training and guidance he received in middle school to hone his skills. He knows this feeling all too well, and he knows that too much of it will threaten to break his resolve. So, he tries not to ignore it.
And there are times when it is easy to ignore. But when the pressure to win - to not make a single mistake, to be at his best condition for the team, to make up for what happened last year (a loss that he knows was entirely his fault) - looms heavy on his shoulders, it’s a lot harder to ignore that compulsive feeling to consume the entire poison in one go.
But he tries. He tries to slam that poison in the ground instead. He needs to focus. Comparing himself, ruminating over the past, is not going to help him win. And he has to win.
Hinata is aware that he’s not a freshman anymore. His eyes don’t widen in awe at the sight of that grand orange court. He’s in his second year. After this match, he only has one last chance left to make his high school volleyball career count. He’s a senior now to those wide-eyed freshmen, and being benched in the Nationals last year has just made his fervor to play his best this year even stronger.
The memory of being benched during Nationals leaves a sour taste in his mouth, snapping him back to reality.
Hinata blinks at the volleyball he’s holding at arm’s length, posed to serve. He must have spaced out while serving. More than a dozen balls are now scattered all over the gym when there were only a handful a few minutes ago. A dull ache on his right arm
Oh... right, I wasn’t supposed to exert myself too much, he thinks to himself.
He sighs in resignation and starts picking up the balls littered across the floor. A brief glance at the clock tells him it’s almost 9 pm. He’s been practicing jump serves for almost two hours straight now. And that's after their regular practices from 5 to 7pm.
Hinata counts the hours in his head, and pauses.. Wait, that can’t be right. Has he really been practicing volleyball for… four hours?
The ache in his muscles leaps into consciousness at the realization. He sluggishly puts away the poles and the net in their rightful places in the closet.
He could just hear Kageyama shout in his head, You’ve been practicing for 4 hours? Dumbass, how did you think that was going to help?
As he walks to his bike, the voice of Kageyama in his head starts getting more sinister, a little more similar to the cold, unfeeling voice he used to have back in their first match in middle school. You practiced for 4 hours today, but did it even help? Did you even improve? You couldn’t even make one clean serve.
He climbs on his bike and clutches the handlebars tightly, hoping the sharpness of the hard plastic can snap him out of this spiral. Hinata distinctly noticed that the voice in his head is starting to sound less and less like Kageyama, and an awful lot like himself. Speaking of Kageyama, he managed to do a perfect jump serve when he was a first year in high school. He wasn’t able to do that in middle school, but he practiced, and it brought results. What about you?
He’s already a second year, and he still makes rookie mistakes.
Impatience creeps through his veins as he rides back home, wriggling around his heart and making it hard for him to breathe. He pedals faster, panting as he climbs up the mountain, hoping the air he has to push out of his system will take all his negativity with them.
The next day, he wakes up to the screaming pain in his muscles. He groans as he sits up, his entire right arm feeling heavier than the rest of his body. He should just skip school, but finals are coming up. The last week before exams are when teachers recap their lessons, and Hinata's academic situation isn't bright enough to miss those either.
He sighs, staring at the wall as he contemplates his options. He could ask Yamaguchi or Kageyama for notes, but Yamaguchi is probably too busy reviewing on his own, and Kageyama is too dumb to recap everything for him. Besides, part of him doesn’t want the setter to know what he’s been up to.
After the fever incident last year, Kageyama has taken it upon himself to teach Hinata proper self-care — what to do and what not to do to keep their bodies in perfect shape before, during, and after training. He always tells Hinata that “this, too, is volleyball”.
And while Hinata appreciates all his help, there’s a part of him that feels irritated over being… scolded, like he’s being watched like a hawk all the time and he’s not allowed to make the same mistake. He really doesn’t want to hear Kageyama’s lecture when he finds out Hinata’s been practicing so much that his arm has become too sore to even move. He’s pretty sure that’s not supposed to happen.
And if he misses classes, Kageyama will definitely know.
Guess he just has to push through today. Anything is better than hearing what Kageyama would have to say to him. He hears enough of Kageyama’s scolding in his head.
He looks at himself in the mirror, heavy eyebags have permanently etched on his face. He looks horrible. He feels horrible.
He’s not usually like this, he knows. He doesn’t know how to explain it but he feels… wrong. He’s an upbeat, optimistic, determined guy. Usually, when he looks at himself in the mirror, he sees eyes full of wonder and excitement and passion reflected back at him. But today, there is a dark storm brewing behind his clouded eyes.
Possibly because he’s been trying to give his 100% to both his academics and volleyball practice at the same time. He usually only gives his all to volleyball, but his exam scores have been lower than normal recently - which is saying something - and it’s threatening to prevent him from going to future summer camps.
He’s still optimistic, though. He has a sliver of hope that he won’t break or fall apart. Not until the end of the week anyway, and by then, he’ll find enough time to recharge his batteries and bounce back to his normal self.
With that hope in mind, he rides his bike on the way to school.
Hinata should have known that his optimism was misplaced, because the moment he arrives at the school gates, he’s panting and burning up a lot more than usual. To make things worse, Kageyama is already outside the school gates, waiting to race him to the gym.
He parks his bike as soon as possible and tries to run before Kageyama even notices, a poor attempt at a head-start. It’s not enough to fully outrun him though, and Kageyama ends up winning their race. He tries to push down the bitterness that’s starting to brew in his chest, and instead curses his traitorous body for not being able to keep up. He ignores the fact that his muscles are still aching from his four-hour-straight practice yesterday.
He persuades himself that he just has to keep working harder, to be stronger and faster, to stretch his limits so he can reach the rest.
Hinata tries to keep himself awake throughout most of the day and focus on the lessons at hand despite his sore and aching body screaming for him to just drop dead in the hallway and take a much-needed nap. His head nods heavily, eyelids heavy with fatigue as the teacher drones on about some type of math equation. He shakes his head to physically wake himself up, but it’s fruitless, his brain feels like a jello-cube bouncing around in his skull.
His sluggish behavior continues until lunch time.
Hinata’s heart jumps out of his chest at the sound of the school bell. Maybe a few spiking practices will wake him up? Making his decision, he runs as fast as he can to the gym, hoping Kageyama will take one look at Hinata’s classroom, realize he isn’t there, and eat lunch on his own.
He arrives at the gym and grabs a ball. He’s not delusional enough to assume he can do a jump serve in his tired sluggish state, so he tries a simple overhand serve. Only to be disappointed when his arms feel too heavy to move and the ball doesn’t go over the net. He practices a few more times until he physically cannot raise his arms.
He uses his classes as a way to recover from the exhaustion, hoping he’ll be able to recharge enough by the end of the day to get to practice and not look suspicious to his teammates.
When the bell rings again, this time to signal the end of classes, he feels even more exhausted than before despite being able to nap for a while. All he wants is to go home and sleep for the rest of the day, but he doesn't want his teammates to worry for him, so he drags his tired body to the gym for the second time that day.
A few of the first years look at him suspiciously as he enters the gym, worry and concern written all over their faces. Hinata knows he must look awful right now. It only occurred to him right then that he forgot to eat all day. He skipped breakfast that morning and used his lunch break to practice, so he probably looks pale and sickly.
The shouts and loud chatter all around the gym that usually excites him is starting to irritate him now.
And he knows he’s not the type of guy who dreads volleyball practice, or the kind of person who feels anger bubble in his lungs just because someone laughed a little too loudly. He’s the type to have boundless energy and passion for the sport he has loved since he was young. In fact, he’s the type of guy who laughs a little too loudly sometimes.
But not today it seems.
He tries to push all his frustrations into his next serve. It ends up being too weak to fall to the other side of the court.
“Oi, boke! What kind of serve was that?”
Hinata grits his teeth at the sound of the familiar voice, and turns to see Kageyama stomping towards him, his usual frown etched on his face.
Hinata feels a headache slowly blooming, the throbbing sensation growing louder by the second. The noise of the gym, along with his friend’s shout, is too overwhelming for his hungry, sleep-deprived, exhausted self. So instead of teasing him lightheartedly or trying to make up a reason for his lame serve like he always does, he matches Kageyama’s fury. He frowns and glares daggers back at him, challenging him to say something that will piss him off.
Kageyama’s frown deepens in concern. He walks a little slower, looking at Hinata curiously. Sensing that something was wrong with Hinata, he quietly approaches Ennoshita and asks him if he can take the team out for a jog to give them some space. Their captain agrees that it’s a good plan.
“You weren’t in your classroom during lunch,” Kageyama starts tentatively once the rest of the team is gone, all his initial frustrations disappearing at the sight of Hinata’s disheveled appearance.
Hinata turns away, bouncing the volleyball aggressively before posing to serve. “I was practicing,” he grits out.
“Did you at least eat lunch?”
Hinata deliberately refuses to answer and does an overhand serve, which Noya manages to receive perfectly. He picks up another ball and poses for another serve. Kageyama opens and shuts his mouth several times, as if he’s trying but failing to find the right words that could calm Hinata down.
Finally, after a few more rounds of serving practice, Ukai orders them to prepare for a practice match. Hinata jogs to the other side of the court, his legs feeling like jelly, his mind feeling too muddled--
He trips on his own shoelaces--
A strong hand grabs his arms in time. He looks up, only to see Kageyama frowning at him again.
This time, Kageyama demands, “How long did you practice yesterday?”
He looks away, still refusing to answer. The frustration he’s been feeling the past few days starts simmering on the surface. He clenches his teeth, forcing himself not to say all the horrible things he’s been thinking.
“Hinata.” Kageyama sighs, “You know what happens when you push yourself too hard. Remember what happened in Nationals last year? I told you—”
His patience snaps at his condescending tone, and the sliver of energy he has left is not enough to hold himself back anymore. All the exhaustion, anger, and frustration that has been building up since yesterday starts to overflow.
“I know what happened last year, okay?” Hinata bares his teeth, snarling, “I am perfectly aware of how much I failed--”
“What? Hinata, stop-- that’s not what I was--”, Kageyama tries to place a calming hand on his shoulder, but Hinata shoves him away. Hurt flashes across Kageyama’s face.
“You don’t know what it’s like, Kageyama,” Hinata’s voice breaks slightly, “You don’t know how much harder I had to fight just to keep up with you and everyone else. It’s been a year since I made that mistake, and what have I done this past year? Nothing! I still can’t do a stupid jump serve, something you’ve been able to do since first year.” He kicks a nearby ball to the end of the court.
The ball slams on the wall, and the loud thud echoes across the empty gym. They stay quiet for what feels like years. Hinata keeps his back to Kageyama, refusing to look at him as his tears well up in his eyes. He rubs the tears away and sniffs, trying to compose himself.
He turns his head to look at Kageyama, because he wants his best friend to know how much he means it when he says the next sentence, “And I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I can’t reach your level yet… Maybe I never will.”
Hinata feels drained all of a sudden, having exhausted all of his reserved energy on ranting. The helpless feeling that he’s been keeping at bay starts to crawl out and make itself known.
“You deserve someone better,” Hinata continues softly, “A better friend. A better teammate. A better spiker. A better… partner.” He feels his throat tightening as the tears fall down his cheeks freely.
He remembers the promise they made years ago, and all the promises they made after. To stand on the court together, ten years, twenty years from now. He thinks of how Kageyama should have made that promise with someone else, someone even better than him. He chokes out, “I’m sorry I’m not the person you expected. Turns out I’m not as strong as you thought.”
Silence fills the empty room. Time passes by, but none of them say a word.
And then--
“Don’t.”
Hinata startles as Kageyama spoke for the first time since he’s started rambling. He croaks out, “Don’t what? It’s true, isn’t it?”
Kageyama breathes through his nose, looking like he’s trying his best to calm down. “Look. I’ve been trying my best to be here for you.”
Trying being the key word here probably, Hinata contemplates. A small part of him realizes that this must be Kageyama’s first time to comfort someone else. And seeing Hinata show so much self-doubt or insecurities - something he’s never done before (well, not to this degree anyway) - must have left him absolutely confounded. If he were in a better condition, he’d feel pity for Kageyama for being forced to deal with such an emotionally-heavy situation, and guilt for being the one to put him in it.
But unfortunately, he’s sapped of energy, and all he can do right now is let the words spill out.
“Come on Kageyama, you know it’s true. I’m not the best player in the team. You told me last year that you’d use anyone who would help us win, and you’d toss aside anyone who won’t help us. Well, this,” he gestures at himself, referring to how badly he’s treated himself the past few days, “this just shows I don’t deserve to be part of the starting lineup.”
Hinata sighs in resignation, letting the truth of his words lie heavy between them. “There are first years in the team now that are better than me.” He keeps his face down, refusing to look Kageyama in the eyes. “And they deserve to be on the starting lineup more than I do. They can help us win. The team doesn’t need me anymore—”
“Shoyou. I need you.”
Kageyama’s trembling voice halts Hinata’s brain from its depressive spiral. Hinata looks up to make sure his sleep-deprived brain isn’t making this up - because Kageyama’s voice has never trembled. A few tears have trickled down Kageyama’s cheeks, but his blue stormy eyes are swirling with a wide range of emotions that Hinata has never seen on Kageyama before— hurt, pain, sorrow.
And he is the one who hurt Kageyama, the one who caused him so much pain. He is the reason Kageyama is crying for the first time since middle school. His heart clenches at the thought.
But before he can say anything else, Kageyama continues, “Why would you say all those things about yourself? What’s wrong with you today? You’re not usually like this.”
Hinata tries to tell himself that Kageyama wasn’t asking out of disgust, that he’s just genuinely concerned, but it’s getting harder and harder to tell between the warped Kageyama he made up in his mind and the real Kageyama right in front of him.
What’s wrong with you today?
What is wrong with you?
Why can’t you just be normal again?
“I know I’m not usually like this, okay?” Hinata retorts, his throat tightening as tears start welling up again. “I hate feeling this way, okay? I hate that I’ve turned into this… monster. I don’t know what’s happening. Kageyama, I...” He glances up to look at the one person he’s admired more than anyone else, the one person he trusts more than anyone to show all his vulnerabilities to. Lips wobbling, he chokes out, “I don’t know… how to go back to being who I was before.”
What’s worse is that a part of Hinata is aware that what he’s doing isn’t really helping. He knows how important it is to take care of himself. But his desire to improve ended up becoming his Achilles’ heel.
He leans forward to rest his head on Kageyama’s chest, too exhausted to fight anymore. If Kageyama decides he isn’t in the right condition to play, then so be it. He’ll take every scolding he’ll get from Ennoshita, Takeda, Ukai, and everyone else. He deserves it. He deserves to be shouted at for being so careless, for being too impatient, too impulsive.
“I’m sorry.” Hinata hiccups. He feels the frustration start to build inside him again. “I… I know I was stupid for doing this. I risked our chance at winning Nationals and—”
“Don’t worry about that now,” Kageyama murmurs. He gently wraps his arms around Hinata, slow enough to give him a chance to push away if he doesn't feel comfortable with it. They’ve never hugged before. But the moment Hinata feels those warm arms slowly wrap around him, he lets go of control, and he melts.
Hinata sobs loudly, his tears leaving a wet pool around Kageyama’s shirt. He clutches onto Kageyama, afraid he’ll push him away any minute. As if sensing his fears, Kageyama pulls him closer, albeit hesitantly, and strokes his fingers through Hinata's hair. His best attempt at offering comfort.
Hinata takes it, his heart swelling up in something a lot more than gratitude.
As he continues stroking the orange hair, Kageyama consoles him with soft whispers. “It’s okay. I’m here. I need you. Don’t worry, okay?”
They stay that way for what felt like hours, with Hinata sobbing and clutching on Kageyama’s shirt and Kageyama soothing his. Hinata wishes they can stay that way forever.
When Hinata’s sobs have died down, Kageyama cupped his face, making the smaller boy meet his steady gaze. “Are you feeling better?”
Hinata nods. Kageyama breathed out a sigh of relief, but a moment later, he tightened his grip around Hinata’s face and says, “You’re right. I do deserve better-”
Hinata flinches at his words. He tries to push away, but Kageyama refuses to let him look away. He continues, “But. I don’t need someone better.”
Kageyama gives him a small smile, his eyes wide and honest as he continues, “You’re already here. I don’t need someone else. I - we - just need you to do better. Hinata, you’re a great player, a great teammate, and… the best friend, the best… partner I can ever ask for.” Kageyama’s eyes harden slightly, “But you have to learn to take care of yourself better.”
Hinata nods in understanding, a few tears still streaming down his face. “I promise, I’ll do better.”
“And we’ll be here to help you. We’re your team,” Kageyama’s thumb grazes his cheek softly, “and I’m your partner. Until the world stage, remember?”
Hinata’s heart flutters in his chest. “I remember.”
Kageyama gives him a small smile that turns into a crooked smirk. “Now come on. I’ll walk you back home. You better sleep for the next 48 hours.”
-end-