Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kageyama Tobio

My hands touch the ball softly. The tips of my fingers kindly caressing it as I urge it to fly in the right direction. It’s like magic, seeing it change course on my command.

My eyes follow it closely as it soars though the dark evening sky. Further and further away.

I stop following the ball when my eyes meet two brown ones. They shimmer in the dim lit evening, streetlight casting a halo around my shorter classmate’s head. He doesn’t look like an angel, though.

With his eyebrows forming a deep frown and his disappointed eyes glaring at me from underneath his orange bangs, he looks more like some kind of demon. A short, angry demon.

“Huh?” The thud of the ball falling onto the pavement, bouncing up and down before going silent, wakes me up from my daze.

I blink twice before turning around to my classmate fully. “Hinata, what are you doing here?”

Hinata places his hands on his waist and frowns. “I could ask you the same.” Next, he shakes his head, sounding disappointed when he says, “We have a match tomorrow and you’re still outside.”

I shrug; I felt like I could use the practice. I’ll have to be the setter for a full match against Nekoma tomorrow and, even if it’s just a practice match, I know that Kuroo and Kenma’s play is much more polished then mine and Hinata’s. I couldn’t go without extra practice.

“It’s dark, and late,” Hinata continues. “And you’re practicing alone?”

Since when did he become so reasonable? I wonder as I scoff and go to retrieve the ball anyway; I’m not stopping practice because he says I should.

Hinata steps in front of me, his arms wide. “All alone,” he repeats.

A car speeds past us, almost flattening the volleyball that has slowly but surely rolled onto the street.

“Come on, Hinata, step aside!” I shout, trying to push past him, but he refuses to let me past him and get my ball back. “What’s going on with you? Just let me past!”

“Kageyama!” Hinata angrily squeaks when I try to push past him.  “I’ll only let you continue if—“

I sigh; I don’t have time for this.

“If,” Hinata repeats, his face more serious than ever before. “You let me practice with you!”

Is this because I refused setting him balls for him to spike during practice today? I wonder.

I roll my eyes; why is my teammate so annoying? “Okay then,” I mutter when I realize I have no other choice. “I’ll set you the ball, but only if you promise to hit it this time.”

Hinata’s eyes widen. “Really!?” A bright smile grows upon his face. Just like that he’s a meter or two in the air, feet no longer touching the pavement as he lets out a shriek of happiness.

I shake my head, but still feel myself smile a little as I take a step towards the street. Even though I prefer practicing on my own, I also know it’ll work better when I train with Hinata beside me; that’s how it’ll be on the court after all. That, and Hinata’s somehow less annoying during a good mood.

As soon as Hinata’s feet touch the floor again, he lays his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll get the ball!” he announces before rushing past me and towards the crosswalk nearest to where the volleyball is lying.

I want to tell him not to bother getting the ball when feel his hand let go of my shoulder.

I turn around to see Hinata run onto the street at his normal pace; too fast to see the headlights of a speeding car in the distance. It’s driving way over the speed limit.

“Watch out!” The words barely feel like they’re coming from my mouth.

I watch Hinata as he, still unknowingly, crouches down to get the ball. My words seem to reach him too late, because when he looks up there’s nothing he can do to get away. His hands clenching the ball tightly when he also sees the bright lights approaching him at an immense speed.

Next thing I know, I’m deafened by the sound of horn that’s too late to warn him. Blinded by my eyes squeezing shut in horror as I hear a faint cry for help above the noise of shrieking tires. A ball bouncing down the street being the last thing I hear before everything goes terrifyingly quiet.

Hinata—I swallow thickly when I realize that that cry was his, knowing I shouldn’t be standing here. Knowing I should open my eyes and stop cowering on the sidelines. Knowing I should help Hinata.

The sound of an engine starting up once more, urges me to open my eyes.

They’re not getting away with this! I tell myself, fighting against the blinding streetlight.

When the light clears up, a car, the one that just hit Hinata, driving over my classmate like he’s a lifeless speed bumper instead of a teenager is all I have eyes for. The lack of a license plate is the last thing I see before watching the black car disappear in the darkness of the night.

 “Hinata, are you—“ Breath catches in my throat when I see my classmate lying on the street. Hinata’s pants are drenched in blood, the legs inside of them clearly crushed and broken. The white stripes of the crosswalk are no longer white, instead they’re coated with a layer of deep red.

My heartbeat races as I urge my legs to move, running towards Hinata. The second I reach the crosswalk myself, I collapse onto my knees. My hands now resting of Hinata’s blood-stained cheeks.

“Hinata!” There’s no response when I call his name.

No witty comment, no laughter or annoyingly enthusiastic rambling. Just silence and the faint, faint sound of strained breathing as Hinata’s chest carefully moves up and down.

I stroke his cheek with my fingers before frantically looking over to the damage done to Hinata’s legs.

They did that, the driver of that car, and got away with it.

Never before have I wished more that my sweatpants had pockets to hold a phone; I need help.

I clench a fist and try my best to hold back the tears stinging behind my eyes. My voice breaks when I call out for help. “Someone help!” There’s no one here.

I glance back at Hinata, who’s getting paler and colder with every second that passes.

“My friend, he’s hurt!” I shout into the darkness. “Somebody, call an ambulance!”

There’s no response this time either.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Hinata Shouyou

Murmurs, far away.

Loud, like the applause of the crowds, but distant, like their cheering.

Is this it? I wonder, looking up at the ceiling light. Is this my big match? My breakthrough?

My throat feels tense and dry. I’m so nervous.

This has to be my breakthrough; my big moment. The crowds are cheering my name.

I close my eyes, blocking out the blinding lights as I inhale deeply. This is it.

“Shouyou!” I can hear it, my name, like an anthem. “Shouyou!”

I open my eyes again, ready to see the court and my teammates and the huge crowds the shout my name like a symphony. But they’re not there.

“Shouyou!” The calling is closer now, like, right beside my ear. Hands are grasping at my shoulders.

I stare into the light above me, wide eyed and mouth gaping. I know it right away; I’m not on the volleyball court anymore. I’m somewhere no volleyball player wants to be, especially when they should be in a match. I’m at the hospital.

What did I do? I wonder when I realize I have no clue how or when I got here. Did I pass out? It’s the last thing you want to happen during a competition, but it’s the most likely. Right?

The weird feeling in my throat tells me otherwise.

“Shouyou,” a young girl’s voice says. It sounds familiar, but I can’t place it at all. Not until a little girl with the same orange curls and round cheeks as me creeps into my vision. Her cheeks are completely red, like she’s been crying. Natsu never cries, so I wonder why she would now.

I want ask her, but when I try to talk I find myself choking on something long, round and hollow reaching all the way down my throat. My chest rises, but I can’t seem to breathe.

Do something! I want to scream, call for help. But I’m already struggling to even stay awake as my lungs try to suck in air. I’m going to die! I cannot say a single word.

I close my eyes, trying to focus on the small voice calling for my mom. Natsu’s voice is all that keeps me going, makes me feel alive and conscious, even when I feel like I’m already floating up into the sky.

I listen to mom’s voice too, hearing her say something. But everything is going further away, until it’s almost like a soft whisper.

I lay there, still, my chest straining to go up and down until I feel a sudden push on my shoulder. A warm hand grabs me and a voice sounding nearby me forces me out of my daze.

“Hinata, you’re going to be okay,” it says, loud and clear. “I need you to try your very best to calm down for a second and breathe with me.”

When I open my eyes a young woman is hanging over me. Her mouth smiles weakly and her eyes, along with her words, encourage me to breathe slower. To force my chest to rise up, even when that stupid tube is blocking out all the air.

“Good job.” She smiles, before telling me to take another deep breath. And another. Counting along as I do so. “I need you to hold the next one for a couple of seconds.”

I give her a nod, for as far as I can, since there’s something wrapped around my neck, keeping me from moving properly. Next, I take a deep breath. Only little of it makes it to my lungs, or so it feels, but I still manage to hold it in long enough for her do remove whatever’s in my throat.

There’s a pull, followed by an itching pain, burning all throughout my throat. I feel myself leaning forward, with the help of the woman’s hand, as I cough trying to stop the itching.

I get leaned back, finally able to rest my head on the pillow in a comfortable way.

The funny tickling of air squirting into my nose through two tubes causes me to chuckle weakly. And when the woman, probably a nurse, shines a bright light into my eyes, I almost sneeze.

Fortunately I don’t, because my lungs are already aching enough as it is.

Once the pain in my throat has cleared up a little, I try to look around me. The tight brace around my neck is making it hard, but I manage to spot my mother and younger sister sitting right beside me. Their cheeks are blotchy red and I’m positive Nastu’s crying when I give her a smile and mouth “hi”.

Mom wraps her arm around my little sister, because I can’t comfort her now, and next she takes my hand in hers. It’s such a strange feeling when her warm fingers stroke the back of my freezing cold hand, sending shivers all throughout my skin. She’s crying too now.

“Hey, Hinata. You did very good just now,” the woman, who just saved my life, says, drawing my attention from my mother and sister to her. She gives me a kind smile before saying, “I’m Toshiko. Can you try telling me a little about yourself?”

“I-“ I wince, my throat has never before felt this sore.

Toshiko smiles. “It’s okay, take your time. You’re doing great.”

“I’m Hinata Sh-Shouyou,” I manage to answer before starting to get out of breath. “Fifteen years—“ I gasp for air, my lungs aching because I pushed on when I couldn’t say any more.

“Good.” Toshiko smiles, so I try to smile back; even that small movement causes so much effort.

She isn’t smiling anymore when she asks whether I know where I am.

I know, from the white walls across from me and the buzzing and beeping of machines, that I’m probably in a hospital. I’ve been in places like this before, like when I had sprained my ankle. But I have to tell her “no”, because I don’t know exactly where, or why, I am in this hospital.

“That’s what I thought.” Toshiko nods sadly before turning to my mom. Her voice is careful when she asks her whether she wants to tell it.

I have no clue what it is, so I glance at mom to see if she has a clue, but she avoids my gaze and stares at my blanket with a grim expression on my face. Her mouth presses into a firm line, like it does whenever she’s either furious or terribly sad. “You do it.”

I avert my gaze to Toshiko, who stands at the end of my bed. The look on her face is terribly calm when she says, “I have bad news for you, Hinata. And I need you to keep breathing as calmly as possible after I tell you, can you do that for me?”

I take a deep breath, already feeling a little bit faint as thoughts start to float through my head. Worst case scenarios of brain injury or split knees, or worse paralysis, find their way into my brain somehow. Tears are already stinging behind my eyes, but I urge than not to spill.

It can’t be that bad. I promise myself before taking a calm breath. I nod once.

Toshiko gives me a careful nod in return, but she isn’t smiling when she tells me what happened, making it clear why I am here. “Two weeks ago, you were hit by a car.”

I shake my head. “No, I wasn’t.” I don’t remember anything at least? I should be able to remember something like that, right? I just remember being outside, seeing Kageyama practice all alone and—

Like a rush it comes back to me; the volleyball lying on the street, the headlights approaching me, the pain everywhere. I remember the pain so well, the same pain that’s now stings the insides of my legs.

I wince at the sudden jolts of aching and burning pain, like lightning’s trapped inside of my legs. When Toshiko asks me what’s wrong, I hiss through clenched teeth, claiming it’s coming from my legs.

I hear mom’s sob-like-gasp beside me and Natsu asks, “But he can’t be able to feel them, right?”

“Well,” Toshiko replies, looking a less calm all of a sudden.

“What?” My heartbeat’s thumping loudly in my chest as I realize the only thing I can read Toshiko’s expression as, is apologetic. Something a doctor shouldn’t be, not if they saved your life after you’ve been hit by a car. Meaning that the part about the car crash wasn’t the bad news. “Why wouldn’t I be able to feel my legs?” I nervously ask Toshiko.

“You were in a critical state.” Toshiko takes a deep breath herself before carefully adding, “To save your life, we had to amputate both of your legs.” She swallows, apologizing when I don’t respond right away. “It’s okay to feel overwhelmed right now, but know you can ask me any question.”

I open my mouth, ready to tell her I’m not overwhelmed; what she’s saying is not true. I can clearly feel both of my legs, when I notice something I wish I hadn’t. The blankets don’t puff up any further than where my upper body should end. I know I’m short, but I know I’m not that short.

Ignoring all my other pains and aches I reach for the blanket. In one smooth movement I throw it off myself, revealing the proof of what Toshiko just told me.

This isn’t real. I try to tell myself when I see how my legs just stop even above my knees, leaving me with these bandaged stumps. Amputations are things old, sick people get. Not young, healthy, teenage volleyball players who have an entire life ahead of them.

Not me.

This. Is. Not. Real.

“Hinata, I need you to breathe slower.”

“I can’t,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “My legs are—they’re- why?”

She crouches down beside me and rests her hand on my shoulder. “Take a deep breath with me.”

I try, but strained sobs keep me from breathing normally. “My legs—“ A tear slips down my cheek when I realize I’m not imagining things; this is real. My legs, they’re really gone, and they won’t be coming back. I’m like old and sick people now; unable to walk or—

“Volleyball—“ Tears blur my vision. “—I play- this can’t be happening. No—“ I shake my hear. “I’m supposed to become the Ace—“ I manage to bring out before bursting into sobs, spilling so many tears that even my mom’s arms around me can’t stop them from rolling down my cheeks.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Kageyama Tobio

Hinata Shouyou was hit by a car. It’s all people can talk about.

Doctors and police agents have all tried speaking with me about the accident right after it happened. My parents tried to get me to do something; whether it was talk about what happened or just simply. Psychologists have been ordered to get me to speak again after I stayed silent for a week.

And instead of making me feel better, all they can talk about is how my teammate has been hit by a car right in front of my eyes and how it’s normal to be shocked.

I get that; I get that people get traumatized by the sight of their classmate lying on the street, his broken body lying near to lifelessly in my arms and his legs crushed because of the weight of a stolen car driven by a careless driver. I get it how having to hear it through my parents’ hushed conversations how he’s in a critical state and how they took away his legs to “safe” him.

I get it now how scary it all is. And how horrifying it is to realize now, when you’re already too haunted by the memory of the car crash-sight, that this person you thought of as annoying up to now actually is your best friend. I get the self-hatred when you find it out and you know it took your friend almost dying to make you realize that.

And yes, that is, just like all the psychologists say, a thing that can very well shock people.

It shocked me.

But talking about it doesn’t help. It’s not that simple.

I just want to see with my own eyes that Hinata’s okay. I’ve wanted to see him ever since the accident, to know for sure that he was still alive even after that car hit him so hard. To hopefully see for myself that my parents heard it wrong and that he still has both of his legs, ready to heal up and be used once more. But that’s not what I get; I get two appointments with a psychologist each week, and now that I’m talking again, they decided I should head back to school, during yesterday’s session.

“It’d be best for your mental state to get into some social contacts and routine again,” they said.

Now, I agree, as I trod into the school at half past seven in the morning, that it helps to drag myself out of my bed early. It makes sure that I don’t stay curled up under the blankets, staring at my wall all day. Instead I have to get up early, put on clean clothes and walk to school, which strangely enough has never felt so relieving before.

It’s the part about the social contacts I do not agree about.

Besides the fact that I am an introvert top to toe, it’s also painfully obvious that the news about Hinata’s accident has reached the ears of the whole student body.

I haven’t even set foot on school grounds when I hear two girls behind me talk about it. I can physically feel them glaring at me when one of them whispers, “Isn’t that the guy that was with the kid that got hit by the car when it happened?” to which the other one replies, “Yes, it definitely is.”

As they walk past me, they both shoot me an apologetic glance. The shortest even dares to whisper, “Did you see his face? He looks traumatized. So sad!” once she thinks I can’t hear them anymore.

I stuff my hands in the pockets of my jeans and urge my legs to walk a little faster. I at least know that some of the people in my classroom actually know Hinata personally. They wouldn’t just gossip about someone in the same year that was badly injured within the company of their classmate.

When I reach my classroom, though, I immediately realize I terribly underestimated the empathy of my classmates. Before I’ve even found my way to my chair, one of my classmates, whose name I don’t even remember since he has never talked to me before, swings his arm around my shoulder.

“I heard what happened to your friend, Kageyama.” His face is too close to my and breath smells like empty stomach. “Tell me, are the rumors true? Is he a cripple now?”

I wince, trying to get out of his embrace without having to answer his careless question.

“Come on, Kageyama,” one of my classmate’s friends says, his voice almost threatening as he leans on top of my table. “Tell us what happened to your friend.”

I push the tallest guy’s arm off me and ignore them as I sit down in my seat. But even as I grab a book and try to make it look like I’m studying for today’s test, which we don’t have, they don’t take the hint. They keep asking, “was there blood?”, “did you push him?”, “did Hinata really lose his legs?”.

Their questions, and the careless way they ask them, make me sick.

 “Come on, guys,” a usually silent girl says in a warning tone. “Leave him alone.”

“Why should I?” the guys turn to her. “I just want to know Hinata’s doing. Can’t I even ask him?”

The girl stares at her feet, her hands shaking as she clenches fists. “You should give Kageyama some space,” she says, before quietly adding, “I heard he saw Hinata throw himself in front of that car.”

Is she really implying that Hinata, the endless ray of sunshine, attempted suicide? My stomach turns in disgust; as if the guy’s rumors about me pushing Hinata, and therefore charge me guilty of “crippling Hinata”, weren’t bad enough already, the girls apparently pity me and him because he tried to kill himself? It’s absurd. Hinata is one of the only people that, I can say with full confidence, would never even think of something like that; he’s the happiest person I know.

A deafening sound pulls me from my daze, and it isn’t until I feel the burning of my hands that I realize the sound was made by me slamming my hands onto the table. Everyone, the entire class, is staring at me. Their eyes prying into me as they are all thinking the same thing “he’s gone crazy”.

And maybe I have, because the next thing I do is getting to my feet. My chair falls onto the ground, colliding with the ground just like Hinata did after the car hit him.

“You are all wrong,” I mutter under my breath, before shouting that it was the driver’s fault, that Hinata was on the crosswalk. I make it very clear that there was no pushing or jumping involved. “Hinata’s life is wrecked and all you insensitive douche bags can do is making up rumors about my friend!” With those words I exit the classroom; running away with no intentions of returning again.

People stare as I run down the hallway and a teacher fails when he tries to stop me. I ignore everyone, every thought that clouds my brain along with each tear that blurs my vision. I even ignore the nausea until I can’t anymore; the second I reach the place where it all happened, on the crosswalk just outside of school grounds, I fall to my knees and a sour taste spreads through my mouth. Soon, my stomach’s contents, along with the bottled up rage, fear and sadness, lies on the pavement underneath me, finally spilt from my body after two and a half week.

I wipe with my arm past my mouth before flying back onto the pavement to catch my breath.

I’m exhausted, everything hurts.

Is this how Hinata feels? I wonder, but when I remember the way he looked right after the accident, all broken and wrecked, I’m well aware that his pain is probably thousands of times worse than mine.

Anxiety creeps up on me, causing my breaths to come and go faster, as I look up at the clouds passing by. I remember so clearly how the sky looked in the darkness of that evening.

I remember the way I thought it was great to look at the ball as it flew through that starlit night on my command. I was sending that volleyball in whichever direction I pleased. I was in control.

But I was also the one who send that ball onto the streets, where it never should’ve ended up in the first place. I was the one who actually was going to get it; the one who would’ve, and should’ve, been hospitalized because of my poorly set ball.

It should’ve been me.

But instead it’s Hinata who got hit by that car. It was him who got hospitalized and nearly died. Because of me, Hinata lost his legs and will now be disabled for the rest of his life.

I blink, allowing a tear to slip down my cheek.

It is all my fault.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Hinata Shouyou

I’m not someone who loses hope quickly; I never lost faith.

I mean, signing up for a volleyball club when only standing one meter and sixty-two centimeters tall takes some faith in yourself, but it also takes a certain kind of hope that you’ll be able to manage jumping height enough to block the balls, and spike and everything else needed.

But that was before.

I can’t stand, or jump, or even sit upright without needing support in my back. And with both of my legs completely gone, I’m not standing so tall anymore; the highest part of my body isn’t even a meter away from the ground. So, even though I usually never lose hope, I have lost faith in the dream of ever becoming an Ace; the Tiny Giant had legs, so I cannot become anything like him ever again.

It seems that I can only become completely useless from now on.

“That’s not true,” Toshiko replies right away, when I tell her how I think about it. “You’re definitely not going to be useless; I’ve seen people start here with no mobility at all and walk back home without any support, Hinata.” She sounds a little offended, even though she’s not even the physical therapist that helped these people walk again.

“Sure, but I’m positive you have never seen them become a pro volleyball player after that,” I state, trying to get her to understand my way of thinking; I’ve been working towards becoming the next Tiny Giant for as long as I can remember, and now that dream is just impossible.

She opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, I add, “Yeah, that’s what I thought. It’s impossible, isn’t it? To jump and run and win without—it’s impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible, Hinata. I won’t say that it’ll be easy, but I believe that if you put your heart and soul into healing up and regaining strength, nothing is impossible,” Toshiko tells me, before returning her attention to winding the white bandage off from around the stumps.

I shrug, maybe she’s right; I’ll ask my physical therapist what he thinks when he visits me this afternoon. Yet, I’m certain he’ll just say I won’t play again, just like mom and literally everyone, other than of Toshiko’s, has told me so far.

“Do you want to watch this time?” Toshiko asks me. “It’ll be the first time without stitches, so now that their healing up properly, I think you should get used to the sight of your legs.”

I hate how she calls them my “legs” as if they’re even still comparable to actual legs; these stumps of soft flesh don’t have knees, or feet, or even the tiniest bit of strength. They’re no legs.

I also hate the idea of having to see what my “legs” look like now. I’ve only had nightmares of the sight underneath those bandages; scarred skin, all knotted into a stubby mess.

That’s why I never watched her take it off before, I was too scared of having to face the reality of living without legs for the rest of my life, so I always hid them underneath the blankets and looked away when my wounds got cleaned.

But Toshiko’s right; the stitches have been removed yesterday morning, so it’ll start looking more and more like it will for the rest of my life. It’s time that I face reality and start learning how to cope with it, even if deep down I am completely terrified of doing so.

I take a deep breath before answering, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Toshiko repeats, showing me a kind smile before unwrapping the last bit off the left stump.

I wince when pale skin gets revealed. It’s so strange to see that my leg actually stops there, only about twenty centimeters below where my upper body ends; I feel like my former legs are still there.

“What do you think?” Toshiko asks me once she has removed the other bandage as well. “Doesn’t look to creepy, does it?”

I shrug; she’s right when she says it’s not a nasty sight, there’s no blood left and it’s healing up nicely, I think. But it’s very creepy to me. Those are my legs, or rather my lack of legs, and seeing them all gone is more than just a little creepy. “It’s alright.”

I watch her closely as she touches it carefully, stating that with the help of those strange socks the swelling went down nicely. “If it keeps going this way, you can start more intensive physical therapy sooner than later.” She smiles. “Mastering your wheelchair skills will give you much more freedom.”

I smile back at her. I’m starting to get crazy, lying in bed all the time. I just want to walk again, but having the possibility to wheel myself places sounds like music to my ears.

Toshiko smoothly rolls with her wheelchair to the tray behind her. Here she grabs a bottle of crème.

“What’s that for?” I ask, since I’ve never seen her use it before.

“It’ll keep the scar tissue more flexible, that way you won’t feel it pulling as much.” She squeezes some of the crème onto her hands and wraps them around one of my legs. It’s cold, causing me to wince a little, but once she actually starts massaging it feels pretty good.

I find myself leaning back and enjoying it, this being the first thing I actually sort of enjoy since I woke up to the most terrible news. It feels so good, closing my eyes and not thinking of—

The accident. My breathing gets faster the second flashes find their way into my brain. I feel my chest aching and my heart throbbing so loudly that I can barely even breathe.

“Hinata,” Toshiko’s voice says. Her hand rests on my shoulder. “Breathe with me; in—“

I take a shaky breath, holding it as she counts up. I exhale when she tells me to. I do that a couple of more times before I open my eyes again. “I’m okay,” I lie when I see her worried expression.

“Was it the same flashback again?” she asks, sitting back onto her crutch.

I nod once; it’s always the same sight.

First, I see flashes of headlights approaching me out of nowhere.

Next, I feel like I’m having an out-of-body-experience and I see my own body lying on the street; my legs completely absent as a pool of blood spread around me.

It’s not how it really went, I know that since I asked every question that came to mind.

That is how I found out that Kageyama was with me throughout the entire thing; he’d apparently stayed with me until coach Ukai eventually found us because of Kageyama’s shouting and called an ambulance. I probably should thank Kageyama next time I see him; he hasn’t visited yet.

I also found out I apparently almost bled out and was in shock and even in a coma for three days.

I was mostly in and out of surgery for the days after that. On good days, without too many surgeries, I woke up from time to time, but I remember nothing of this.

Once I was ready to hear more about the whole leg-ordeal, Toshiko explained to me that, no, my legs hadn’t been torn off by the car during the accident. Instead they had to tell my mother that, since my wounds were badly infected, they would have to amputate my legs if she wanted me to survive. I know why she chose my life over my legs, so I never really blamed her, even when I would’ve probably begged them to seek any other choice possible, even if the risks had been bigger that way.

I also learned that they haven’t found the driver who did this to me, and the police closed the case since I survived and the car had probably been a stolen one that has a new owner now; they were never likely to find the person who did this to me. This did make me furious, unlike the choices that everyone around me made for me while I was unconscious.

That bastard’s still out there, driving recklessly, even after ruining my life.

But that’s not what my nightmares show me; they just show me the direct aftermath of the accident, or rather, what my imagination made of it.

Because of that, I rarely ever sleep. Even closing my eyes for a short while is enough to trigger it. That’s why, as Toshiko continues massaging the scarring at the ends of my stumps, I want to make sure I won’t close my eyes again.

“Can I try?” I ask when I feel myself getting too relaxed once more. “Massaging, I mean.”

Toshiko looks up at me, her eyes have widened a little for some reason. “Are you ready for that?”

“No idea,” I admit, because I have been ignoring the lost legs so much that this is the first time even looking at them. I don’t know yet if I’m already ready for actually touching them. “But I’m always in for trying.”

“Well—“ Toshiko smiles. “That’s a change in attitude there.”

I chuckle. “So, can I?”

She gives me a short nod before getting me situated; with three pillows behind my back and Toshiko beside me to hold be steady, I finally can reach the stumps. And once my hands have been sanitized and covered with a layer of the thick, cold crème, Toshiko tells me I can try rubbing and massaging it into the skin of my right leg.

“Okay,” I whisper. Everything about me is suddenly shaking now that I’m reaching down to my right leg. I feel myself trembling even more when my hands touch the rounded end of my leg.

Unlike what I expected, it feels like normal skin. It feels like the skin that’s all over the rest of my body, just gathered all in one place. It’s softer and less bone-like than I had expected, too.

I wrap my hand around it, inhaling slowly; I can still feel my leg, as if it’s still there.

But it’s not. Tears jump in my eyes when I tell myself this. I make it very clear, touching the stump, stroking it and squeezing it just so slightly. See? I ask the part of my brain that still believes there are two legs I can stand on. There’s nothing, just flesh.

A tear slips down my cheek. “This’ll be my life from now.”

Toshiko squeezes my shoulder, checking to make sure I’m okay.

“I am—“ Another thick tear drips down onto the bed. “I’m just still trying to understand it.”

“I know.” She strokes my shoulder and promises me that’s completely normal for new amputees. “Just make sure to take it slow, okay?”

I do as she tells me, only keeping my hands wrapped around the stump because I feel like I can, just barely, handle it. Also making sure I breathe on as I and carefully massage the fleshy stump with tears running over my cheeks and a lump in my throat.

It’s in this moment that I know for sure that this is going to take a long while to get used to. But maybe, just maybe, when I do get used to it, it’ll get easier living like this.

And that, at least, is some kind of hope I’ll be able to hold onto.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Kageyama Tobio

To this day, I still don’t get it. Why is melon the number one gift when someone’s hospitalized?

A big, green, juicy watermelon isn’t going to get Hinata his legs back. Yet, it is the present Daichi suggested we’d get him for when we visit this afternoon.

At first I thought it was a joke, because I’m certain Hinata have more use of our present if we give him money; I looked it up and prosthesis are so expensive, so I’d love to help pay for them. I feel like I owe it to Hinata, seeing as the accident was partially my fault.

But Daichi was deadly serious about it; he, Nishinoya, Sugawara, Asahi, Tanaka and I will buy Hinata a watermelon. Tsukki and Yamaguchi couldn’t come, so they’ll have to buy him something else. I wish I was like them, having appointments after school to have an excuse not to go. Because that way I could go when I’m actually ready, and I could give Hinata something else than a stupid melon.

But I have no excuse, so they dragged me to the store with them, where now, Nishinoya and Tanaka are feeling every melon they have to find the perfect one to be the centerpiece of our fruits basket.

“This one’s ripe and looks juicy,” Tanaka announces, referring to one of the many melons. “But it’s too tiny, don’t you think?”

“No,” I reply, it’s the first thing I said today. Even when they asked me to come with them to the hospital this afternoon, I just shrugged in response and ended up following them to the store.

All eyes turn to me, as if they’re startled about the fact that I’m still here.

I swallow before speaking my mind. “Hinata’s small, like the melon, I think that one’s perfect.”

Tanaka’s eyes widen before he releases a snicker. “Guess you’re right,” he does admit, even though he’s obviously laughing at my statement. But I do really think I am right as well; Hinata isn’t the tallest person, he’s rather one of the shortest on our team, just like that melon. I think I would like the thought behind it, even if it’s mostly just because it’s the ripest watermelon here.

We go with that one in the end, just because I said so. We also add some oranges, blueberries and strawberries in the woven basket Sugawara bought, since we think Hinata will want some variation.

With that wrapped in a plastic bag, we walk towards the hospital, which isn’t too far away. I wish it was further away, though, because I haven’t even realized what I’m doing until I’m standing in front of a white door with my heart beating inside of my throat.

I’m visiting Hinata—My heartbeat rises.—in the hospital.

I feel nauseated; even for big matches, I’ve never felt this nervous.

The same Hinata whose life I ruined by setting that ball poorly.

I try to swallow away the lump in my throat, but it’s immediately replaced by a new one when Daichi opens the door and I’m standing eye in eye with Hinata.

He’s lying in a bed, looking so very pale. He smiles when we walk in and even waves as he shouts, “Hi, guys! I didn’t know you were visiting today!” He clearly is trying to sound happy, but I can hear right away that this is how Hinata talks when he is anything but happy. Sure, he may be happy to see us, but it’s almost like he’s telling himself not to give in to the tears that are clearly filling up his eyes.

“Hey, Hinata!” Nishinoya immediately greets him, shouting about as hard as Hinata, causing Asahi to quickly shut the door behind us so no one else will be bothered by the overdose of noise.

A watch from a distance as Nishinoya goes in for a high five. “How are you, Shorty?”

I wince when I see how Hinata’s face saddens a little; probably because he also realizes that he’s officially, and by far, the shortest on our team. And it’s, sadly, nothing a grow spurt can change.

It hurts a little to see him looking down at his blankets, at where his legs should be, and still manages to get a smile plastered onto his face when looking up at us.

“Yeah.” He chuckles sadly. “I’m alright.”

Daichi pulls up a chair, I follow his example.

He leans towards Hinata and, him being the more wise and tactful guy, he carefully tells Hinata that it’s okay to be honest in situations like this. “It’s okay if you’re not, you know, alright.”

Hinata’s face goes a little sad once more. He doesn’t seem to think that anyone notices, because he says that he’s really fine. “I have physical therapy each say; I bet I’ll be on my feet again in no time.”

That’s a lie.

I know Hinata probably didn’t open Google to look anything up, but I needed to know the answers myself. I needed to know whether it was even possible for someone like him to walk again, and even though it is, it’ll take multiple years for him to walk again, who knows if he can ever jump again.

I know he feels that too, that it’s unlikely he’ll be on the court again, but that doesn’t stop him from smiling wide and returning the question to us; how have we been?

Not great, I want to answer, but I’m not the one who answers first. I haven’t slept since your accident, I didn’t join the match we had since I couldn’t touch a ball. That’s what I want Hinata to know; that he’s not the only one affected by this accident that I’m here for him. But I don’t speak.

I don’t speak a single word as Daichi fills Hinata up on what he missed in practice, Sugawara and Asahi have been going from class to class after school so they could collect the homework Hinata missed, since I missed more homework than I made myself, and Tanaka and Nishinoya manage to make Hinata laugh as they tell him about the weird stuff that happens in the second-years’ classes.

We eat a little bit of the melon, but I’m lying if I say that I was hungry.

Hinata eats less than usual too, so it’s mostly Nishinoya and Tanaka who enjoy eating the juicy watermelon and try spitting the pits in the garbage can across the room. They fail most of the time, resulting in black seeds lying all over the floor and lots of laughter.

When I go home, earlier than the rest, I don’t feel like it was a bad first visit. But it doesn’t feel good either; Hinata has been faking a smile the entire time. Even when we can clearly see that he’d been crying right before we got there.

As I get on the bus that heads from the hospital towards my home, I wonder if I’ll ever see the Hinata I knew before. Or, maybe even better, I see what became of him after the accident; see him cry and let out those emotions he keeps locked up, like I do to. So after that he can maybe smile again.

Because, no matter how annoying a happy Hinata is, I miss him a lot.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Hinata Shouyou

Drips of sweat creep over my forehead as I chase a dream.

A dream of walking again one day. Of playing volleyball with my team. A dream that’s unrealistic.

But I still chase it with all my heart and soul, since that’s how Toshiko told me I’ll have the biggest chance of actually reaching it one day. It’ll be far from now, seeing that my arms barely handle braking the wheels of my wheelchair as I slowly try to go downhill.

This’ll be my first step to freedom. I remind myself, allowing myself to roll a little bit further.

“You’re doing a great job!” Genji, my physical therapist, tells me when I reach the end of the ramp without completely giving up halfway the ramp. “You’re having such a fast recovery, Hinata.”

I smile weakly while panting, wishing I could see this as a quick recovery too. It’s been almost two months since I woke up without my legs, and all I can do now it sit upright, sit in a wheelchair and sit as I steer and speed up and slow down with my hands. There hasn’t even been a word spoken about me walking again; I don’t even know if it’s even possible to walk when you have, what they call, a

Bilateral above-the-knee amputation, like me. I never dared to ask or look it up, because I’m too afraid the answer will be “no, never again” or something like that.

Instead, I try to do my very best during physical therapy each and every day.

“Can I try going up the ramp today?” I ask Genji when I’m done gasping for air. “I think I’m ready.”

Genji hands me a towel before sitting down. His voice is pretty stern when he tells me “no”. He thinks I’m not really yet. “You can go down the ramp, but if you want to go up one, you need much more balance and upper body strength, Hinata.” He shakes his head. “It’s too soon.”

I lower my head, disappointedly. After hearing the team talk about our next matches, when they visited again yesterday, I just want this recovery to go faster. I can’t wait any longer if I want to play with the third-years again. I’m running out of time.

“What about going down the ramp one more time?” I ask, because I might be out of breath, but I’m not ridded of my energy just yet. But this idea is also immediately turned down by Genji. “Why?” I ask him, because I’m used to people telling me to train more and more, even when I’m tired.

“You have done enough today.” Genji gives me a smile, promising me that we’ll try going up the ramp tomorrow. “But for today, you’re done. Your body needs rest, too, Hinata.”

I bury my face in the towel and barely manage to hold back my tears; I don’t want to rest. I want to speed up the process as much as I possibly can.

“Don’t look so down.” Genji gives me a pat on the shoulder. “You’re young and strong, Hinata, and recovering faster than most bilateral amputees I’ve seen. Be proud.”

I look up from the towel and shrug.

“Also,” Genji continues. “I kind of have been forced to cut today’s session short.”

Wondering why that had to be done, I follow his gaze to the big windows where a guy with short, black bangs is standing. I recognize him right away; Kageyama.

“Wait,” I mutter. “He asked you to cut my physical therapy short? He hasn’t visited in two weeks?”

“Well, he insisted.” Genji gives me a quick shrug when I ask him why; I guess he also hasn’t got the slightest idea why Kageyama thought it was important enough to come during my daily session.

But here’s here now, and Genji probably has another patient waiting, so I may as well get myself cleaned up and back to my room with Kageyama so he can explain himself.

I turn back to the mirror and glance at Kageyama, trying to get his attention. The look on Kageyama’s face is grim when our eyes meet. He clearly doesn’t like seeing me this way; he nearly started crying when I showed him what was left of my legs last time he actually visited with the team. He hasn’t joined them any more since them.

Something about his expression is unlike him, almost guilty; it’s as if he blames himself.

I give him a wave and mouth “almost done”. When I know he understood, because he nods, I wheel myself to the little changing room in the back. Here, I manage to chance into a clean T-shirt, which all oversized since I lost some weight, so now they reach just far enough down that I don’t have to wear anything but the T-shirt, loose shorts and the stump socks. Which makes changing clothes after each physical therapy session less hard; I manage to do it within just a couple of minutes.

After that I tell Genji “goodbye” and wheel myself down the hallway and towards where Kageyama’s waiting for me. I greet him as soon as I reach him.

“Hey,” he mutters, his voice so low that it’s almost silent. He doesn’t even look at me when he asks, “How is your physical therapy going?”

“It’s going alright,” I tell him and I give the wheels of my wheelchair a swing. “I’ve gotten much faster; let’s race to my room!”

I give the wheels another spin, shooting down the hallway like I’ve been practicing with Genji over the past weeks. I’m faster than Kageyama, actually, as we head down the hallway, but that’s probably only because he’s not even trying to be faster than me. He’s just barely even walking at his normal pace, which is concerning, since Kageyama’s usually always in for a challenge.

I brake, turn around to him and I ask what’s up.

He comes to a halt, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he shrugs. “Nothing.”

“Yeah, sure, you liar; there is something,” I tell him. “Just tell me what’s up, Kageyama.”

He grumbles something before admitting, “The guys asked me to come.”

“I knew it!” I reply. “I knew it was unlike you to come so suddenly and then just be here, moping.”

Kageyama gives me a glance before redirecting his gaze to the floor once more. “They wanted me to, uhm—“ Kageyama winces, as if he’s afraid to ask. “—they wanted you to come to our next match.”

I feel my eyes widen, panic rising in my chest at the thought of having to go to a volleyball match like this. I don’t belong in a sport hall anymore; I’ll get disgusted looks all the time.

When I look at Kageyama, I may see the blank expression he’s forcing, but I can see he also wants me to come watch. He wants me to be there too.

So I smile and say, “Oh, yeah, sure.” Even though every part of my body is telling me to not go.

Kageyama gives me one glance, and it isn’t a happy one; he looks furious. “Can you stop doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Pretending that you don’t have a care in the world.” He turns to me, his eyes dark and angry as he points at me; the wheelchair I’m basically bound to from now, to the two stumps that used to be my legs. “You lost your legs, Hinata! And you still go around, smiling like a moron, like you don’t even care about it.” He winces. “You really think I’m too stupid to see that I ruined your life?”

I frown, shaking my head as I ask him, “You? What—how is this your fault?”

“I set that ball wrong! I let you get it while it was there on the street!” He swallows audibly. “I let you get hit by that car. And when it did, I couldn’t even call an ambulance right away; if I’d just managed to do that much, you might’ve been walk and go to matches again.”

I avert my gaze to my lap, closing my eyes as I think back to what Toshiko told me when I asked her if there wouldn’t have been a way to save my legs. “My legs were useless from the start; they would’ve just been there, like dead pieces of meat, even if they left them on.” Our eyes meet, and I manage to look at him without a fake smile this time. “It’s not your fault.”

Kageyama’s lip starts shaking, his eyes filling up with tears when he whispers, “Do you really think?”

“Yes,” I manage to say before bursting out in tears myself. Because he’s right; I’ve been pretending to be happy, and okay with this, in front of him all this time and he can see that and he thinks it’s his fault that I have to fake the smile that came so naturally before. “I don’t want to change,” I admit.

Kageyama looks at me through his tears, asking me what I mean.

“I just want to stay the same. I want to smile and be the same enthusiastic me, even when my body’s not really making it the easiest.” I let out a sob, before I hide my face in my hands. “I just want to play with all of you again, like we did before; I want you to set the ball for me to spike one last time.”

A hand rests on my shoulder, squeezing it as if telling me “I’m here”, but those aren’t the words we exchange; there are no words we exchange. We just exchange looks, both through tears, comforting each other with silent glances and unspoken words.

I never realized that I craved some silence this badly.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Kageyama Tobio

I want you to set the ball for me to spike one last time, Hinata’s words repeat themselves over and over in the back of my mind. They have been haunting me all night, the tone he said them in and how broken he looked when he did.

I just wanted to help him in that very moment. I just didn’t know how.

That’s why, the second I got home yesterday, I started up my laptop and sat down on bed. I held a notebook by my side and started writing down everything I found out. First it was mostly just information that’d show Hinata that even bilateral amputees have a chance at walking again and how he should start his process to walking and maybe even jumping again. But soon, I start reading more into the articles about Paralympics sports, and more specifically sitting volleyball, a version of volleyball that’s mainly played by amputees.

Before I know it, it’s far past midnight and I’ve read multiple articles and watched an entire match of sitting volleyball that was played at last Paralympics. It looks easy enough; I think that even Hinata, who’s a complete dumbass and a newly amputee, should be able to play it, especially because he already holds much of the skills needed for sitting volleyball. Actually, he knows everything he needs to know, except for how to sit on his ass for longer than a minute, but that will be easier as he’s allowed to move around the court in between sits.

With a notebook, filled with rules and strategies, and bags under my eyes as dark as black coffee, I head to morning practice at school. I haven’t closed an eye this night, which sucks since I’ll have extra practice today; I want to make sure this sitting version of volleyball is actually as easy to play as it looks, meaning I’ll have to stay on the court during my break today. But I’ll do that for Hinata.

He’ll better be thankful for this. I think to myself as I trudge into the practice hall to be immediately laughed at by Tsukkishima.

“You look like crap!” he snickers, referring to my uncombed hair and dark bags. “Got a hangover?”

“Shut up,” I shoot back before throwing my bag on the floor; I’ll just have to get to today’s practice without dying, then see what sitting volleyball is all about, and then get through the day without dying. Sounds easy enough—

Until Ukai walks in and decides it’s fun to let us run laps outside of school grounds, before having a five on five practice match. In other words, I’m dead by the end of morning practice.

With a towel over my head, I sit in the doorway of the gym hall to cool down. I’m reading through my notes one last time as everyone gets changed for their break and classes. I’ll just quickly try some things, like serving, setting and spiking as well as doing some volleys and digs before changing into my normal school uniform as well.

Once everyone has left, I get onto my feet. I lower the net a little and grab a ball before sitting down. I’m too happy about being able to sit down near the net and the wall, I should be thankful that I still can walk, but my legs are aching so much that I’m grateful for this sitting volleyball practice.

I throw the ball against the wall and try volleying it back, which is just as easy as when I do it standing. The same goes for digging the ball.

It isn’t until I try to get the ball over the net that I realize how hard it is. Serving without allowing your butt to leave the ground isn’t as easy as it looks, and I’m not really a spiker, but I know right away that this won’t be easy for anyone. Or so I think, since I can barely get the ball over.

But it’s setting a ball, my specialty, that’s hardest when I’m not at my usual height. Of course, I usually set to people, going from their heights, but since I’m alone, I can’t do that. But it’s also the fact that I have to find a way to set the ball at the exact right angle and height now that I’m this close to the ground all of a sudden. I don’t know how small setters do it.

“What are you doing?” a voice behind me asks, just as I threw the ball up in the air to see if I can set it right. It startles me so much that the ball lands right on my head instead of in my hands.

I turn around to find Asahi standing in the doorway, still in his sport clothes.

“I’m—“ I feel my cheeks getting warmer, getting caught doing something nice for Hinata, I thought everyone was gone. “I could ask you the same.”

“I thought I’d practice some spikes.” Asahi scratches the back of his head. “I kind of messed up a couple in our last match, so I need the extra practice if I don’t want to get rusty.”

He’s right; Asahi, along with everyone else, has been getting a little rusty. Practice is more intense, since Ukai doesn’t want us to slack off, but no one stays late for extra practice outside of school grounds in the evenings anymore, even though we all did that from time to time. That doesn’t happen ever again, not since Hinata’s accident; either they or their parents are too scared something happens to them. And that’s fair, but it does make us all a little sloppy in matches.

“Oh,” I reply, before looking down at the ball.

“Do you, uhm—“ Asahi sounds a little unsure. “Want to set me some?”

I want to tell him no, because no matter how close of a teammate Asahi is, I don’t want to spend my time on normal volleyball now. I want to be able to help Hinata get happy again as soon as possible.

But then it hits me; setting will be much easier if someone can spike the ball.

“Sure,” I reply, before pointing at the floor right beside me. “Sit down.”

Asahi chuckles nervously. “Sit? I thought you—you play volleyball standing last time I checked.”

“Yeah, but this is sitting volleyball, the Paralympics version,” I explain to him. “Now, sit down.”

“Ah,” Asahi whispers, now seeming to understand why I’m so serious about this; he, too, knows how important it is for Hinata to keep playing, because otherwise he won’t be that same sunshine anymore. “Okay then.” Asahi sits down beside me, near the net. “Set me a ball, Kageyama.”

I swallow thickly; it’s not the same when it’s not Hinata saying it.

But I set the ball anyway, just so next time, it will be Hinata asking me to set him a ball.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Hinata Shouyou

“Just keep them closed a little longer,” Kageyama tells me when I asked him for the tenth time if I can finally open my eyes. He’s wheeling me somewhere, over a couple of wobbles in the road, but still a hardened street, I think. But I have no clue where we’re going, as I’ve been ordered to wear a piece of black fabric over my eyes. Where we’re going is a secret.

“And how about now?” I ask him once more, already chuckling before he utters an annoyed sigh.

“Patience, Hinata.” He pushes me over a step a little too roughly, I think, because I almost fall out of my wheelchair. If I wasn’t holding onto the arm rests tightly, I would’ve fallen face first to the floor.

“Look out!” I squeak, grabbing onto the arm rests even more strongly. “I’ve only just been discharged from the hospital; I’m not yet ready to be send back.” I chuckle.

“Sorry,” Kageyama mutters, before coming to a slow halt. “We’re here.”

I listen closely in an attempt to make out where I am. Once I hear the faint squeaking of shoes on a softer floor, which sounds too familiar, I have an idea of where we could be.

“You know you can open them, right?”

“Yes, of course I knew that!” I lie, because he’s been screaming at me to keep the blindfold on so much that I’m fairly hesitant about that. I lift my hand and carefully peel away the black cloth that’s separating me from the world around me. My heartbeat drastically rises as I do so.

I keep my eyes closed a little longer, even when the blindfold has left completely. I have no clue why I’m so nervous about this; it’s just a surprise, a hopefully fun surprise. I’m still nervous, though.

It’ll be fun. I promise myself before urging my eyelids to move out of the way.

Bright light blinds me at first, but when it dims down, I see a gym hall I’m very familiar with. A volleyball net has been set out in the middle of the court, and the ball that lies on the side of the court closest to me is the same kind of volleyball we always practice with; yet something’s different.

The net is much lower than I’m used to, and my teammates, who already have seem to taken their positions on their side of the court, are all sitting instead of standing.

“What is this?” I ask, not knowing exactly what to think of it.

“It’s volleyball.” I hear from behind me and I feel Kageyama letting go of my wheelchair. Kageyama moves into view. “We have to few players though.”

I follow Kageyama’s gaze to the court, where Suga, Asahi, Noya, Ennoshita, Kinoshita and Narita are all sitting on the left side. There are only four people on the right side of the court, though, and Daichi, Tanaka, Tsukki and Yamaguchi are all looking at me, awaiting some kind of answer.

When I look back at Kageyama, I notice he’s holding something behind his back.

He takes two steps closer before he hands me a T-shirt, one I’ve worn so many times, but refused to even see or think of after the accident; my volleyball outfit, with the big ten on the front and back.

“Will you be our team’s ace?”

I look down at the shirt; it’s the Tiny Giant’s number, one I cannot bear to wear after what happened to me. Yet, I want to play so badly that I end up nodding before I even realize it.

Kageyama gives me a lopsided grin. “Then put on that T-shirt.”

I do as he tells me, and slip it on over my other T-shirt. And once I have it on, Kageyama suddenly seems pretty flustered for no reason. It isn’t until he tells me that I have to get out of the wheelchair that I get why he’s blushing all of a sudden; he knows I can only transport myself by wheelchair and I’m not yet able to get out of it without a helping hand.

“I-I can help,” he immediately adds, seeming even more embarrassed.

“Thanks,” I tell him with a smile, before explaining how to support me. This results in him wrapping his arms around my waist, the team whooping as he does so and him shouting at them not to make this even more awkward. I link my arms around his neck and hug myself as close to him as I can while he carries me across the court, to my position at the front of the court.

Once I’m seated on the floor, he sits down as well, where he usually stands when he’s setting the ball for me. While he holds the ball in his lap, he explains that this game of volleyball will be a little different. “It’s sitting volleyball, the official version often played by people like you, Hinata.”

I frown a little. “I didn’t know there was something like that.”

“Well, there is.” Kageyama looks down at the ball and twirls it in his hands. “The rules are simple; just like the volleyball you’re used to playing. The only difference is that your ass can’t be off the floor when your hands are in contact with the ball.” Kageyama glances at me. “Can you do that?”

I know why he’s asking; I used to be so jumpy, that even now, I would easily try jumping to spike a ball. So I smile and tell him, “Of course I can.”

Kageyama smiles back and nods. “Let’s go then.” He throws the ball to Yamaguchi, who’s in the back corner and therefore has to serve the ball. His serve barely makes it over the net, but I think it’s actually a good practice for him to be sitting instead of standing.

As soon as the ball goes over the net, the game is on.

At first I have to find my balance, and most balls actually land on our side of the court, because I am struggling to stay upright. Yet, when I find the right position and my balance, we manage to score our first point because of Tsukki’s blocking skills.

The ball gets served once more and soon reaches our side of the net, where it almost hits the floor right beside me. Unlike most times, I manage to dig it back up.

The floor feels so much closer to me now, and it is, but somehow that doesn’t feel like a bad thing; I can easily reach balls that are falling and stop them from hitting the floor.

So this is why many short people like the position of Libero? I wonder as I send the ball across the field, towards Tanaka, who struggles to send it over the net.

Asahi seems to be having the same problem, barely being able to spike a ball because of the rule that keeps him from jumping; his butt needs to be touching the ground as much as possible. When he fails to spike it, though, it makes me a little nervous. Especially when Kageyama gets his hands on the ball and shouts my name. What if I can’t hit it?

I shake my head while the ball’s still in the air.

“I promised you a set, remember?” Kageyama replies, before readying himself to set the ball.

I place my palms on the floor and take a deep breath. I have to make something of a run before I take a swing at the ball, I just don’t know how; I’ve been mostly seated in one place up to now.

But when I reach the net and see the ball coming for me, it feels like nature takes over; a calm feeling washes over me as I lower myself to the ground and swing. Just like that first time I send a ball over the net, I can feel the stinging in my hand as an aftermath. I don’t quite know if or how I did it.

Cheering erupts from beside me, like I just won a big match. It’s just a practice match, though, but they’re the most important if you want to be a pro volleyball player.

I open my eyes to see the volleyball on the floor at the other side of the court; my opponents,  and glance at Kageyama whose smiling wider than I’ve ever seen him so before.

I leap myself towards Kageyama. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I shout as wrap my arms around Kageyama’s shoulders. And I don’t know quite what causes me the do it, maybe the rush of adrenaline, but before I realize what I’m doing, I give him a kiss; not on the mouth, just on the cheek like I always do with my mom, but it still causes both of us to get completely flustered.

“You did it,” he squeaks, his cheeks as red as a ripe, shiny apple.

“I did it!” I let out a happy shriek like never before. “I send that ball right over! You saw that?” I haven’t smiled this wide since my accident, but I am smiling for real now. It’s because I now realize what Kageyama probably wanted to show me with this match; I’m not useless.

Whenever we are called wingless crows, I always wondered if a wingless crow is considered a bird. I never really found out the answer, even if I thought I did after losing my legs. I thought something that didn’t have the one thing they needed to do the thing they were made for, like a crow’s wings or a volleyball player’s legs, they could only be considered one thing; completely useless.

I saw myself this way too after I lost my legs. But I can see it now; a crow without wings is still, no matter how you look at it, a bird.

And me? I might not become Karasuno’s Ace, like the Tiny Giant, but that doesn’t mean I cannot go pro in another way. I’ll just have to keep looking at my options, and alter my dream to a point where it will be in my reach. Because, just like the wingless crow I am, at my core, still a wing spiker, with a dream to become a professional Ace some day. A dream that, thanks to Kageyama’s Google skills and the Paralympics version of volleyball, is still very much in reach.

The End

--of this story, but the beginning of Hinata’s career as a sitting volleyball player ^^