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The back of the school was a nice space. Quiet. Spacious. Deserted.
Kageyama had stumbled upon it soon after the entrance ceremony and, lured in by the peace, had taken it for his own. Occasionally he heard the baseball team practicing on the nearby diamond, but the crack of a ball against a bat had become a soothing sound over time. And he could eat lunch at his own pace here, not distracted by the chatter of his classmates.
It was a nice space.
He’d never had to worry about decapitation until today, when the resounding crack of a baseball being hit led to a stray ball whizzing into his clearing, missing his face only by inches and rebounding off the wall when he ducked.
“I’ll get it!” he heard, over the thrumming of his own heart, and watched in wide-eyed shock as a familiar head of orange hair suddenly rounded the wall, messier even more than was usual after a game.
The laughter on Hinata’s face died clean away when he locked eyes with his teammate, replaced instead with a twisted look of pure revulsion.
“Geh!” He immediately held up his arms before his chest, as was his instinct whenever he was in Kageyama’s vicinity, like he had prepared himself for a fight. The ball had obviously been forgotten. “What are you doing here?”
“You’re the one who sent a baseball at my face, dumbass,” he snapped back, and, plucking it from where it rolled by his leg, he tossed it straight at the red head, who caught it reflexively in his hands but did not relax the defensive posture.
Kageyama rolled his eyes. Of all his luck, to have his peaceful space violated by the annoying, little bird on his latest team. Probably the rest of Karasuno would follow soon enough, because he didn’t think Hinata had it in him to keep his mouth shut. He certainly had a big mouth, having declared “I wanna be the ace!” multiple times over the past few weeks, even with that short height of his.
He noticed he was being watched, that Hinata had yet to leave him in peace, and huffed, “What?”
Hinata startled, then stuck out his tongue at the setter. “Nothing, you crab apple!”
With a light huff of his own, his back straight and on the offense now, he spun round and left Kageyama to eat lunch alone in his space.
.
Kageyama hoped this wasn’t becoming a routine, as yet another ball came rushing at his face, one he only managed to dodge once again in the nick of time.
“Oops, my bad!” Hinata laughed as he appeared around the corner again, and just like last time, his cheerful face twisted into distaste when he recognized his setter. “Here again?”
“You’re just as terrible at baseball as you are at volleyball, huh?” Kageyama mused coolly, tossing him his ball and ignoring his wail of protest. “Can’t catch a ball, just like you can’t receive one.”
“Sh-sh-shut up!” Hinata stamped his foot, turning red across his face. “It’s not a real match. We’re just having fun!”
“I wonder if your team will have fun when they lose,” he sniffed, very casually returning to his lunch.
Hinata breathed out sharply, clearly raging over his words, trying to decide whether it was worth it to pick a fight. But he seemed to decide against it, for it was with a loud, blatant scoff that he spun on his heels and marched away.
.
It was their third meeting when Hinata seemed to notice something strange.
This time they did not run into each other after a baseball in Kageyama’s face, but because a meeting with his teacher (over poor grades, surely) had caused Hinata to miss the first half of the match. Frenzied to reach the diamond in time for the second half, he cut through the back of the school as a shortcut from the teacher’s lounge.
Kageyama watched him hop out of a first-story window, dash across the courtyard, and trip spectacularly in front of the setter over an untied shoelace.
He sat up coughing, his face full of dirt and a bruise forming on his forehead from the impact. Kageyama could have laughed, but instead he turned his head away, choosing to be tactful and pretend he hadn’t noticed; after all, they’d beaten Seijou in their practice match with their inhuman quick strike combo, so he felt he owed the boy.
Hinata seemed to notice his presence, however, and hopped to his feet with his face burning scarlet, accusing him in his embarrassment.
“You just laughed at me! I’m hurt, you jerk!”
Kageyama bared his teeth at him, irritated. “Huh? No, I didn’t!”
“Yes, you did! I saw you!”
“Your eyes are playing tricks on you, then, stupid!”
“Your nostrils flared all big!”
“Stop making shit up!”
They glared at one another, caught in a stalemate,Hinata still panting hard after his mad dash. After a moment he seemed to run out of fight, face still pinched in mortification, and turned to go.
“Oi, stupid,” Kageyama called after him at the last second.
Hinata didn’t seem to realize his mistake until after he had already turned at the call, but his own outrage was overshadowed by surprise when he caught the juice box Kageyama suddenly chucked at him. He fumbled with it for a moment, almost letting it slip through his fingers, before reading the label.
“Peach juice?” He held it cautiously, as if afraid it would explode at any given moment. “What’s this for? Is it poisoned?”
Kageyama scowled at the outrageous claim. “I pressed the wrong button.”
“Why are you giving it to me, though?” he asked suspiciously, and went as far as to narrow his eyes. “Why don’t you give it to a friend of yours?”
He glanced away, staring angrily down at his lunch. “We just don’t need your dumb ass getting dehydrated and disrupting practice, okay?” he retorted, and was met with an indignant squawk. “I didn’t wanna waste it. Take it and go, idiot.”
But Hinata didn’t move immediately. He lingered at the corner, eyes still narrowed with suspicion, the juice packet now tucked in one of his pockets.
“What?” he grouched, turning his nose up.
“Kageyama… do you want to join our game?” he offered awkwardly, rubbing his arm.
Kageyama allowed himself a moment of shock, baffled by the sudden offer, before huffily rolling his eyes. “I’m eating, stupid.”
Hinata squawked again. “You’re stupid, stupid.”
They leveled glares at one another again, breaking contact only when Hinata had disappeared around the corner to join his friends for the second half of their game. Kageyama heard soft cheers, and even an elated, “The game’s just no fun without you, Hinata!”
He chewed his rice slowly, listening to the sounds of Hinata laughing with his friends, sounding sheepish as they teased him about getting lectured by the teacher so early in high school.
Hinata was like that, Kageyama mused, swallowing loudly. He made friends easily, drew people in. Already the boys in his class adored him – already he had people who preferred to be with him than without.
He glanced out at his empty clearing, his back pressed against the wall and his legs folded to serve as a place to place his bento.
Quiet. Spacious. Deserted. No one here save for him and the sounds of laughter not far beyond.
It was a nice space.
.
Hinata marched into his classroom with a purpose the next morning, and spotted Kageyama near the back, staring blankly out the window alone with his knuckles pressed to his cheek.
A drink pouch landed on his desk with a thud, and only then he looked over.
Hinata beamed, full of pride for himself.
“What’s this?” Kageyama asked curiously, picking it up tentatively much like Hinata had with the peach juice. “Strawberry milk?”
“I pressed the wrong button,” Hinata declared, grinning, and caught Kageyama’s blank eyes. “I hate owing people, you know. And especially a jerk-face like you. So drink it and then we’re even and you can’t ask for my organs when you’re pinched for cash.”
“What the hell?” he snapped crabbily, but still ripped the straw away from the packet and jammed it into the slot. Before taking a sip, he noticed Hinata still smiling radiantly at him and the hairs on his neck stood on end. “…What? You didn’t poison it, did you?”
At that, Hinata threw his head back and belted out a loud laugh. “Can’t prove anything, can you!”
“Dumbass!” He whipped the straw wrapper at him, scowling darkly. “As if I’ll drink your stupid, poisoned drink now that I know!”
Hinata snickered, a victorious smirk stretching across his lips as he leaned in and drawled, “Stu-pid. Can’t you see the box is all closed up? How could I possibly have poisoned it?” He jabbed a finger at his forehead a few times, purposely hard. “Use your head, Ka-ge-ya-ma.” Each syllable was punctuated with a jab of his finger.
The setter swatted his hand away and violently took a sip, downing perhaps half the drink in one go. The sweetness hit his tongue just as the brilliance of Hinata’s smile almost blinded him.
He glanced away testily.
Following maybe just half a beat of silence, he heard Hinata chirp, “Good morning!”
A chair scraped against the tiles, and an equally enthusiastic voice returned the greeting. The boy who sat next to him had arrived for school.
Kageyama felt a rough jab at his shoulder and glowered at Hinata, who stared back at him disapprovingly, his lips pursed.
“Don’t be rude, Kageyama,” he hissed, shaking his head. “Say good morning to your neighbor.”
He glanced over at the boy discreetly, taking in his friendly face and subtle smile. Did he know his name? He didn’t think so. He couldn’t remember ever saying more than two words to the boy, who had taken one look at his rather permanent scowl when they had been assigned as neighbors and had paled horridly.
But Hinata was still staring at him pointedly, refusing to budge, so he grunted a low, “…Morning.”
The boy paused, his hand halfway to his bag, and flitted his nervous gaze to Kageyama’s face. The soft smile twisted into one of discomfort. “Uh. Yeah. Morning.”
The two quickly glanced away.
Hinata frowned, looking between them, seeming unsure and a little confused by the animosity.
It warmed Kageyama’s ears, made him feel stuffy under his collar, so he crushed his empty milk carton and snapped, “Go to class or you’ll be late, idiot. Daichi-san isn’t going to be happy with you if you miss practice for detention.”
He harrumphed loudly, arms folded in a defensive posture as if he wanted to argue, but he knew this time it was a losing battle and dutifully stomped away.
He glanced back from the classroom door, but Kageyama had returned to staring stonily out the window and missed it.
.
Hinata’s least spectacular entrance to the courtyard was also his most confusing. He simply wandered in, his phone held in front of his face, stepping aimlessly and without caution.
“What are you doing?” Kageyama groused, from his usual spot tucked away in his corner. The grass had grown much longer, and it felt nice.
He startled, glancing at him from behind his phone, and offered him a sheepish smile. “Uh… looking for signal? Kenma texted me but I can’t find a good signal to answer.”
Kageyama nodded, thinking of the half-blond setter on the Nekoma team they had met not long ago. Hinata sure was good at making friends, Ennoshita had mused, when they’d all learned the two boys already kept in touch, and from so far away.
Kageyama thought of how the setter had run from him instead, and before they had even spoken.
“And… finished!” Satisfied with himself, Hinata tucked away his phone in his pocket. He had discarded his blazer and rolled his sleeves to his elbows, and the red dust all over his uniform denoted that he’d been immersed in yet another baseball match.
“Well, then, leave me in peace,” Kageyama groused, angrily taking a bite of his fish.
But Hinata didn’t leave. He swayed on the spot, hands tucked behind his back, and took in the small, empty clearing where he often found his teammate. “Kageyama, you sure like this spot, don’t you?” he mused, humming in thought.
“A little less now that you’re always showing up,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes.
“But I always find you alone.” Hinata frowned, a light dip forming between his eyebrows. His bottom lip curled out. “Where are your friends? Aren’t they coming?”
Kageyama only shrugged.
He returned his attention to the bento in his lap without a word, betraying nothing with his expression. The silence between them was awkward, stony, and it stretched out for so long he wondered whether Hinata had already left and he had just missed it.
It didn’t feel like such a nice space at the moment.
Then Hinata was suddenly hovering over him, covering him in shadow and replacing the sun.
“Wow, your lunch looks really good!” he exclaimed, eyes twinkling. A hand gripped his stomach as he groaned, “I’m so jealous, what the heck! Your mom must be an amazing cook!”
Kageyama frowned, wondering if he should kick him now that he was so close. “Stupid, I made this.”
“What?” He scratched his head, not following. “Then what did your mom do?”
“She didn’t do anything.” He glanced away, wrinkles forming on his forehead, and huffed, “She’s… busy.”
“Too busy to make lunch for her son?” Hinata demanded, and without warning or explanation, he plopped down in front of the setter, crossing his legs like he intended to stay. “That doesn’t sound right. My mom makes my lunch every day. Did you even ask her?”
“She doesn’t like to be asked.” Hinata made a motion towards one of his rice balls, and he smacked his hand away. “She says not to bother her when she’s working.”
“Moms are there to be bothered,” he proclaimed, clearly not understanding Kageyama’s logic at all, which was so different from his own. “That’s what my mom says all the time. Especially when I try to do the laundry by myself and end up using too much detergent and make a bubble bath.”
“Well, your mom isn’t my mom,” Kageyama said crisply. “And I’ve never once created a bubble bath in my laundry room.”
“What a housewife,” Hinata snickered, and when Kageyama took a moment to mutter in protest, he took advantage and swiped one of the rice balls he had been eyeing. “It’s good!” he marveled around his mouthful, and didn’t even mind when he was whacked on the side of his head.
Kageyama pointed his chopsticks at his face, at his bulging cheeks and content smile, but his scathing words were interrupted by a timid call at the other end of the courtyard.
“Hinata?”
They both turned simultaneously to find a boy as equally mussed by red dirt as Hinata himself. He looked awkwardly between the two of them and their proximity, shuffling his feet where he stood, before asking, “Uh, are you coming? The bell’s gonna ring before we finish our game.”
“You guys play without me,” Hinata urged him, through the rice stuffed fully in his mouth. “Kageyama said he’s gonna share some of his lunch with me!”
“I did not,” he protested, his hair raising, but the boy had already run off after one last look in their direction.
“Let me try some of the fish next,” Hinata requested, already reaching towards the food.
Kageyama covered his bento with one hand, obstructing his path, and set his most impressive scowl on the middle blocker.
Hinata didn’t bat an eye, so used to his scary face now. But his eyes did dull for a moment, turning serious and maybe just a little urgent. “You have to share some of your lunch with me, Kageyama,” he persisted, his voice low and pleading. “Or else I don’t have an excuse to stay.”
The answering silence was heavy, lingering between them much like the words rang so clearly in their ears. Kageyama hesitated once, then slowly peeled his hand away, offering him portions of his lunch.
Hinata smacked his lips once he had tasted the fish. “So good.”
He rolled his eyes. “You already ate your lunch, you glutton.”
“I know. But I’m already hungry again!” He patted his stomach, looking content and absolutely delighted as he was allowed to swipe another piece, then asked, “Hey, Kageyama, do you think I can keep my eyes open in the Inter-High?”
“Huh?” He balked. “You’re nowhere near that good, dumbass! Don’t get ahead of yourself!”
Hinata whined in protest, launching into his usual tirade about how Kageyama wasn’t that good either and thought too highly of himself and he’d be the ace and show everybody some day. Kageyama’s answering scoff lit a fire under him, and soon the sounds of their bickering destroyed the typical peace of the clearing Kageyama usually enjoyed so much – but this time he didn’t notice, too busy butting heads with his irritating teammate.
When the bell rang to end the lunch hour, he wondered where the time had gone. He had hardly noticed it passing, even though normally lunch seemed to drag on so slowly that he actually wished for math class to begin already.
“Bring some egg tomorrow, okay?” Hinata requested cheerfully, hopping to his feet and making a dash for the building. “It’s my favorite. Bring it and I’ll come sit with you again!”
“Go bother your mom,” Kageyama snapped back, gathering his things and slowly getting to his own feet. He dusted grass off his uniform, then glanced back at the empty clearing, picturing Hinata’s bright orange hair and vibrant energy next to where he usually sat.
It was a nice space.
.
The silence in his home didn’t bother Kageyama much that evening. His mother wasn’t home and he wasn’t sure when she would even return; perhaps she had left for a business trip and forgotten to tell him again. But he was used to it.
And at this late hour, he was preoccupied with preparing lunch. It always had to be done the night before, for he was usually much too spaced out in the mornings to properly cook, or do much more than toast a piece of bread.
Before the fridge, as he reached towards the vegetable drawer, he paused. The chicken was cooling, the rice balls had been made, and only the vegetables remained to be chopped. If he so chose, he could finish within minutes and slip into bed soon after. If he so chose.
He hesitated once, then plucked two eggs from the carton.