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Tsukishima Kei has never been friendly, in the traditional sense. He’s had friends - well, friend, singular, Tadashi being the only person who ever really stuck around after Kei’s prickly temper reared its head - and other kids usually don’t bother him, because he’s big enough to scare them off, and because he’s no fun to rile up, but. He’s never been a social butterfly, to be sure. Other people feel too complicated sometimes, irritating and exhausting in turns, and after a few years of trying unsuccessfully to understand what unspoken rules they functioned by that he seemed to keep breaking, Kei gave up altogether. Tadashi, who seems to know instinctively when Kei is making fun and when he’s just being blunt, is quite enough for him.
Trying to talk to anyone else too often ends in fighting - fighting that tends to get pinned on Kei, because of something he said that he didn’t realize would rile up the other party so much, or just because he tends to hit back harder.
Today, however, it unfortunately seems as though outside contact is unavoidable. Tadashi left him alone at lunch, hanging back in their classroom for extra tutoring. Normally, Kei would stay with him, if only for the quiet that the classroom provided, but he had wanted a drink from the vending machine, so he had ventured out on his own.
He’s almost done purchasing his drink when he’s approached by an older-looking kid wearing a baseball hat. Kei doesn’t recognize him, but Karasuno is a big enough school that that isn’t shocking.
“Hey!” says Baseball Hat Kid, grinning. “You’re really tall!”
Kei sighs. What sort of mindless topic of conversation is this? He hasn’t been asked a question, though, so he doesn’t feel the need to respond beyond rolling his eyes.
“Did you hear me, four-eyes?” the boy asks. His grin is slipping.
Kei sighs again.
“Yes,” he says. “Do you need something?”
“Do you play any sports?”
“Yes,” says Kei, turning to walk away. He’s had enough of being polite, and would really like this conversation to be over with so he can get back to eating lunch in the quiet of his classroom.
“Have you got a problem, asshole?” asks Baseball Hat Kid.
He wouldn’t if he were just allowed to leave; this is obnoxious. But it looks like he’s not getting out of this situation any time soon.
So, putting on his best faux-polite smile, Kei says, “Yes.”
And Kei’s certainly done it now. The older boy is rearing back like he’s about to punch Kei, which is just fine with him; it’s irritating, sure, but Kei’s certainly been in his fair share of fights at this point. Something about him just seems to intrinsically piss people off. Whatever it is, he doesn’t care enough to try to change it. And Baseball Hat Kid is smallish, anyway, so it’s not like Kei can’t take him if he really has to.
Before the punch can connect, though, there’s a blur of bright orange in front of Kei’s face that quickly resolves itself into Hinata Shouyou , shouting wildly as he takes a punch to the nose that was intended for Kei. Baseball Hat Kid blanches immediately, stuttering apologies while Hinata drops to the ground, groaning. Kei’s glare could level trees as he leans into the kid’s space, towering over him, and he - wisely, in Kei’s opinion - turns tail and runs back to the safety of the school building before he gets caught.
That handled, Kei whirls around to deal with Hinata, who is already back on his feet.
“What the hell did you do that for?” His tone is angry, and it’s not how he means it, but it’s how it comes out.
“I don’t think it’s broken, at least.” Hinata ignores his question, voice pinched, tilting his head back in an attempt to staunch the blood now gushing from his nose.
“Tilt your head forward, idiot,” Kei mutters, rummaging through his backpack for a tissue and shoving it in Hinata’s general direction. “It looks broken.”
Hinata attempts to stick his tongue out, then thinks better of it, pinching off his nose with the tissue sullenly.
“Well, it doesn’t feel broken.”
“Your nose is definitely broken,” says the school nurse. “What happened to you?”
Kei doesn’t even have the time to worry about getting in trouble for picking fights again, because Hinata has apparently already thought this through.
“We were practicing,” Hinata says, voice nasal with his nose all taped up. “We’re on the volleyball team! Tsukishima’s really good, and I wanted to practice my receives since I’m really bad at them, so I asked him to spike some balls for me, and he did - which was super nice of him - but one of the balls hit me in the face, like WHAM! It was so cool - but it probably would’ve been cooler if it hadn’t broken my nose, I guess...”
The lie wouldn’t be the least bit believable to someone who knew Kei even slightly better, the idea that he would participate in extra practice at all, let alone with Hinata, somewhat preposterous. The nurse, however, thankfully doesn’t question it.
“You boys on that team need to be more careful,” she says, shaking her head. “I see too many of you in here. Now go on, lunch is over and you’re going to be late for your next class. Hinata, I’ll call your mother and let her know what happened.”
“Thank you!” Hinata says, far too loud as usual, and follows Kei out into the hallway.
Before they can get very far, Kei stops walking and grabs the handle of Hinata’s backpack to stop him as well.
“Why did you do that?”
“Do what?” Hinata asks, head tilting to one side like a confused puppy.
“You didn’t have to take that hit for me,” Kei says, “or lie for me just now. Why did you do it?”
Hinata shrugs. He looks like he’s thinking very hard, which Kei is hesitant to interrupt, given how rarely it must happen.
“People don’t… Get you, I think,” Hinata says slowly, uncharacteristically serious. “They think you’re picking fights when you’re just being honest. Or that you think you’re better than them when you just don’t want to talk. It’s not fair.”
“I… What?”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Hinata laughs, “you’re a real jerk sometimes! But if you’re paying attention, it’s easy to tell when you’re doing it on purpose. You don’t deserve to be hit just because you don’t want to talk to someone.”
The skin surrounding the tape on Hinata’s nose is already bruising, bright red blending into a purple that’s sure to get darker as time goes on. He scrunches up his face when Kei takes too long to answer, a don’t leave me hanging sort of challenge to it, but he winces when it aggravates his nose. Kei’s heart thumps extra hard against his ribs a few times, as if to remind him that it’s there.
“You… I never… Even if you were right,” Kei says after a moment, trying to maintain some of the cool that usually comes so easily to him, “which I’m not saying you are, but. Hypothetically. I never asked you to look out for me like that.”
I never asked you to look at me like that.
“Sure,” Hinata shrugs, like it’s the simplest thing in the world, “but someone should, right? I mean, I’m definitely gonna try to not get punched in the nose about it again, but people shouldn’t be mean to you when you don’t deserve it.”
Like it's just that easy.
Kei must stare at Hinata in silence for a little too long, the tips of his ears surely going red like they always do when he’s feeling particularly frazzled, because Hinata pulls another face, and then takes a step back.
“We’re teammates,” Hinata says, “we’ve gotta look out for each other! And... I guess we should probably get to class. We’re already pretty late.”
That last bit is delivered with significantly less vigor, and there’s a disappointed shuffle to Hinata’s stride as he waves goodbye and scurries down the hallway to his classroom, but he smiles at Kei nonetheless.
Kei stands rooted to his spot a while longer, gingerly touching his own nose with the tips of his fingers and willing the blush he can feel in his cheeks to subside, before at last shaking his head angrily and hurrying to class.