Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ittetsu Takeda
Saturday, 17:00

A plastic cup of coffee warms my shaking hands.

They’re not shaking because of the cold, though; it might be from the fatigue or adrenaline, it might even be the caffeine itself that’s making me this twitchy. I don’t know if it’s my first cup, or my second or third, I might’ve already downed more coffee than that for all I know. Because, while the cup in my hand is already half empty. I couldn’t tell you what it tastes like; is it bitter or have I put in too much sugar? Burning hot or lukewarm? I couldn’t tell you, because I don’t remember. I don’t remember getting it, maybe someone got it for me. Drinking half a cup of coffee went by in haze.

Just like everything else does.

I simply feel numb now.

Completely numb. Head to toe. Not the physical kind, but rather the mental type. The emotional exhaustion that makes me feel like everything has been muffled.

It’s the kind of numbness that makes you hyperaware of every move your body makes. I wince whenever things get even louder than they already are. A heartbeat that’s skipped when I hear someone’s crying through the glass doors that lead to the hallway. A chill that runs down my spine, each time I’m caught off-guard; allowing myself to think of what happened.

About what happened that had me ending up here in the emergency room’s waiting room.

There’s so much sound, so many voices. And yet, I’m all alone, whilst everyone is either getting emergency treatment or still in the hallway, talking on the phone, explaining what happened to their closest friends and family. I should do the same, but I just can’t right now. I don’t feel relieved enough to call my parents and tell them it’s okay; I’m alive and not hurt at all and this nightmare is over. I can’t do that, because I don’t feel relieved at all.

I feel too numb for relief. It feels too much like this nightmare has just begun, rather than ended.

I don’t even feel empathy when I see Tanaka pacing up and down the hallway, trying to get a hold of his sister with tears in his eyes. I don’t feel sad when I see Sugawara break into tears as he yells at the person he’s speaking to on his phone. I don’t feel worry when I briefly think about the people who are about to be called; The moms of Daichi and Hinata, Ukai’s parents, Nishinoya’s grandfather and Kageyama- I don’t even know who they are going to call in his case, since his parents and grandparents are out of the picture. His sister maybe. I don’t know.

All I know is that they are about to feel the grief I am too numbed to feel right now.

That’s because all my feelings feel numbed down. Ever since we arrived at the hospital, in an ambulance with wailing sirens, life has felt like one confusing haze of events. I’m not sure if the events are to blame, or just the exhaustion or the trauma.

All I know is that the only feeling that comes in extreme waves, is guilt.

The only sound that reaches my ears at full force are the orders that the medical staff barks at each other from a distance. I wish I didn’t have to hear every single word they’re saying, but it isn’t at all stopped by the thin wall between the emergency room and the nearest waiting area, so I just try my best not to understand what they’re saying. I try to block it out. Focus on anything but their voices.

My gaze is fixated on the tiled floor, trying to block out the guilt that causes tears to fill my eyes. I blink away the tears when they start to blur my vision to the point that all I see is one haze.

I jump a little when I feel someone’s presence lingering right behind me; I can hear their breathing, feel their eyes staring at me.

I turn around, thinking that it’s probably just a doctor or one of my students, but instead I’m greeted by a woman I have never before seen in my entire life. She shows me a compassionate smile when our eyes meet. “Are you alright, sir?”

I squint at her, trying to get my eyes to focus, but that’s impossible, since my sight is absolutely terrible without the help of my glasses. Still, I would like to figure out if she’s asking for real, or simply trying to fool me; who asks someone in a hospital’s waiting room if he’s alright. Of course I’m not alright.

I eventually give her a shrug anyway, because what else can I do?

“You look like you haven’t slept it days,” she tells me, and she’s not far off. “If there’s anything I can do you can just tell me.”

I shake my head once and try to suppress a short scoff; I know what she’s implying. She’s kindly reminding me that I look like an absolute mess. I need to dry my tears, take a shower and get some sleep. But I don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon. “I just survived a car crash.” I look back down towards the tiles again.  “A big accident.”

That question comes back to mind immediately: What do you do when you know that you have survived a car crash? It’s been on my mind ever since we arrived at the hospital. Everyone’s getting help. No one’s dead.

Everyone survived.

And yet I have no clue what the answer to that burning question could ever be; what now?

I know that I should be happy, and trust me, less than an hour ago I was the happiest person on Earth; feeling a smile on my face for the first time today, hearing and seeing my students smile and laugh and cry tears of happiness for the first time since our bus crashed on our way to the training camp.

“I’m not alright.”

“Oh-“ The woman’s voice sounds taken aback. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” She doesn’t sound sorry, though. Yeah, sure, there’s a hint of sympathy, but she almost sounds- excited? “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but do you mean the accident earlier today. The one that required multiple ambulances?”

I swallow thickly, remembering the wailing sirens of multiple ambulances. She’s right; we needed emergency help as soon as possible. With the thirteen of us, we needed a lot of paramedics.

I nod once. I regret it immediately when I look up and finally notice that she has a pen and paper in her hands. Even before she introduces herself, I know what she’s going to tell me; she’s press. She leans forward, bowing shortly before presenting me her hand to shake. “I’m Chiharu Sone, head writer for the local main news site.”

I glare at her, trying to get my eyes to focus on her to see if she’s kidding; the press cannot have heard about the accident so soon, right? How did they even hear? I don’t think anyone posted it on social media, not any of my students, anyway, they’re too busy with more important things. Maybe they heard about the six ambulances being rushed to one place in the middle of nowhere; I guess that is something that would draw the press’s attention.

Anyway, she’s right; I was involved. I already told her that, so I can’t go back on what I said now.

“Would it be okay if I ask you some questions regarding the accident?” She asks it in a polite tone. Before I can even nod, though, she takes a seat on the bench across the table. She places a small tape recorder on the table and turns it on, before looking up at me with interested eyes.

“Alright,” I mumble, even though I really do not feel like reliving that bus crash all over again.

“Great, thank you mister-“

“Takeda,” I tell her, when I find her eyes urging me to introduce myself. “Ittetsu Takeda.”

“Mister Takeda, you were in a large accident,” she tells me, as if I didn’t realize myself; my friend and eleven of my students along with myself were lost in the woods for over seventeen hours. No one has to remind me of the fact that it happened; I’ll never forget those hours. “I heard all of those ambulances and it just got me thinking; what on Earth happened there?”

“Yeah, well-“ Normally I’m really good at explaining, great even, but right now I’m at a loss for words. Because what did happen? I remember every second, every tear cried and every scream of pain I’ve heard from darkest hours of the night to the moment we were finally saved. It causes a lingering feeling of dread and guilt. But how to put what happened to words, it seems nearly impossible.

I take a deep breath, before nodding to myself. “We were on our way to a volleyball training camp and had gotten lost somewhere along the road. We crashed. I-“ I hesitate before telling her. “I was driving.”

Her face grows dark when she realizes that she’s interviewing the one and only person who’s to blame for the accident. That’s me. And I bet that will be all over the news in a matter of hours.

“You were driving?” I can’t tell if she’s gaping at me because she’s shocked or because she thinks that she hit the jackpot. But even without my glasses, I can see that her sympathy has left; she blames me.

And she’s right to blame me.

“This should have never been allowed to happened, but it was pitch black on the road.” I close my eyes and think back to the second it happened. The moment where I looked up and saw that we were heading straight for a slope. The second I knew that I had screwed up. “I wasn’t even aware that we were going to crash, until it was already too late.” It was supposed to be a safe trip, these kids and their parents trusted me, instead I sent myself and twelve others rolling down a slope in a bus. I hurt Ukai, along with eleven of my students; Hinata, Kageyama, Daichi, Sugawara, Nishinoya, Asahi, Tanaka, Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, Yachi and Kiyoko will be forever scarred because of a mistake I made.

I caused this to happen, and yet all I can think of right now are stupid excuses; it was dark, we’d been driving around cluelessly for hours, I was tired. But I was frustrated too. I looked away from the road.

“Eleven of my students, my colleague and I were in that bus as it tipped over and rolled down a pretty steep slope. I don’t remember much about the crash itself, but when I came to, the bus had crashed into a tree and the smoke was coming from the hood.” I still remember that clearly; feeling the fear as the first flames rose from the hood. I still can feel the heat that I felt through the shattered windows.

“That sounds freaky.”

“It was.” I’m looking at her, trying to keep a polite expression on my face. But it feels like I’m staring straight to her. In my head, time rewinds itself, making me feel that fear again. “It was terrifying.”

“You said you had eleven students with you?” she eventually says, after remaining silent for a couple of seconds. “May I ask how they are doing, seeing the circumstances?”

“Some are in better shape than others.” It feels like I’m lying, because even the ones who are physically fine, will never be their old selves again. None of us will.

I swear she lets out a sigh of relief, but her face doesn’t relax.

“But, miraculously, all thirteen of us survived.” I swallow thickly. There were moments where I was convinced we were going to lose people. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t make a single move, because if I did, things would go south. I’d already done enough to ruin these people’s lives.

Up to the very second that everyone was sitting safely in an ambulance, with proper care, I have been on edge. And I hoped that would be over now. It isn’t over, though.

If anything, it feels like we only just began with the hardest part.

“Miraculously?” Sone’s voice pulls back to reality. “How come?”

“Most of us were hurt in the crash itself, but-”

She leans closer, hanging onto every word I say. “But?”

“I think all of us would’ve been better off if we had been able to call an ambulance right away.” There’s no doubt in my mind, actually; they would’ve been able to treat the people that were hurt before it could get any worse. Before people had the time to set up lies about their injuries.

But there was no emergency care.

“We couldn’t contact anyone. We were lost in the middle of nowhere-“ My voice breaks. “For hours.”

Her face falls.

“So, yeah, considering we were stuck without any professional help for over seventeen hours; I consider it a miracle that each and every one of made it out alive.” I thought I would want to shout it from the rooftops; instead I am frozen. Shaken to my core by what we’ve gone through. It’s like- “The shock is just hitting me now, honestly,” I admit. “I feel like we are a part of a miracle and yet-“

I close my eyes, releasing a slow breath. I think about Ukai and Kageyama, Hinata, Nishinoya, Asahi, Daichi, Sugawara, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Tanaka, Yachi and Kiyoko. I think about each and every one of them, and how they included in this dreadful accident, when I say. “I still cannot wrap my head around how a tragedy like this can possibly have happened, but I believe I can speak for their family, friends, classmates-“ I nod to myself. “-everyone. And I say that we are all hoping for these young people to be able to tell this tale themselves.” Whether they’ll write me off as one of the victims or the bad guy who ruined twelve people’s life; these are my true words. These are what I want; I want them to survive. “With each minute that passes, I hope for them to survive this and for their futures to be bright regardless of what happened that night.”

I need them to life their live. I need them to cry, but only if they’ll enjoy the rest of their lives as well.

I need them to survive. Not just physically, but fully; I want them to move past what happened.

Because I feel like I might not be able to.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Kiyoko Shimizu
Saturday, 17:15

A tiny spot in the fabric of my sweatpants turns just a little darker when a tear falls down onto my leg. It’s not my tear, but that doesn’t mean seeing someone crying like this doesn’t make me sad.

Another tear falls down from Yachi’s cheek. She apologizes shortly before burying her face against my shoulder. I’ve been sitting beside her on one of the hospital’s emergency room’s beds as she gets her sprained ankle looked at. One of my hands rests on her back, stroking it carefully as sobs make their way out of her mouth.

“I’m so sorry you have to sit with me and I’m just sobbing all over you and-“ She blurts out in between the quick breaths that she draws every once in a while. “It’s just- you probably have more important things to do than sit with me while I cry.”

“Don’t worry,” I whisper, not because she’s false; she’s right, I have important things to take care of. We got separated from everyone since we all arrived in different ambulances and, on top of that, I still need to have to get the cut on my forehead stitched up sooner rather than later and I kind of feel like I should call my brother soon to let him know what happened.

But that can wait if she needs me to be her shoulder to cry upon; it’s the least of my problems right now. If I can even call it a problem, that is. I’m glad to be able to sit with her right now; I can’t even imagine being all alone right now. Not after being around everyone, seeing them deteriorate, for hours.

“Still- you don’t have to stay with me. I barely even got hur-“ Yachi winces. Her fingers squeeze my arm when the nurse who’s standing at the end of our bed carefully peels the tape off Yachi’s ankle. The skin underneath is bruised and swollen, which makes sense, since she clearly sprained it during the crash.

Another sob escapes from Yachi’s mouth. It seems like, with every second that passes, Yachi’s crying gets worse and her breathing gets faster. I dare say she’s mere seconds away from hyperventilating.

The nurse seems to notice it, too, because she glances up at Yachi with a concerned look on her face. “Does your ankle hurt that bad?” she asks Yachi. “I could get you some painkillers to make it less-“

“No, thank you-“ Yachi shakes her head, trying her best to blink away her tears. “It’s alright without.”

The nurse pauses before nodding once. “Okay, but if you do feel like you could use something to lessen the pain, you can just tell me,” she reminds Yachi before returning to the task at hand.

I hold Yachi close, feeling how she’s shaking top to toe as she works hard to hold back tears. I have to agree that seeing the tape, I put around it to keep her ankle from moving too much, being removed bit by bit looks painful. And maybe it was a mistake to put it on after all.

But this, making her cry, makes little sense.

Ever since she got hurt, she refused taking painkillers. Even though, in the last thirty minutes, multiple nurses and the paramedics have asked her if she needs any; each time she told them “it doesn’t hurt” and “it’s not as bad as it looks”. They believed her. And I also believed her, since I saw how she walked around for hours, on uneven grounds, and even ran when needed without even making a sound.

I can say with utmost certainty that the tears she’s crying aren’t tears of pain.

So, when the nurse has finally removed all of the tape from Yachi’s ankle and walks off to see if she can get a screening room ready for Yachi’s scan, I immediately turn to her. “What’s wrong?”

She looks up at me with puffy eyes and a red nose. She opens her mouth, probably to give some excuse about why she hasn’t stopped crying since we were divided over a couple of ambulances, but stops herself when she realizes that it has no reason to lie to me; I was there. And deep down, of course I know what’s wrong, and I know dead-well that it’s not the pain she’s been ignoring for hours.

She swallows audibly before admitting, “I’m terrified.” She rolls her eyes, muttering that it’s stupid. “Like, we have survived a crash and were literally missing for seventeen hours, which felt like even longer if you’d ask me. And we are safe here.” Tears fill up her eyes again. “And yet-“ Her voice breaks.

“You’re more scared than you were when we were stuck and helpless?” I finish her sentence.

“Exactly! It’s like, we might’ve been lost and helpless, but at least we could take matter into our own hands. We could do things. Now I just feel like I’m being left out on important decisions and it is making me so terribly scared,” she explains. “Do you get what I mean?”

I nod once. “Yeah.”

Her eyes grow larger when she realizes that she’s not the only one; I feel it too. What used to be a lingering fear of stuff going wrong while we were out in the middle of nowhere, has been growing into a constant anxiety ever since we were separated. I know everyone is in this room; some being treated and others are just around the corner barely out of view, waiting for us until we’ve been treated, but it feels like everyone is kilometers away from me.

It has felt like that ever since they took my control away.

“It’s frustrating,” I admit, even though frustrating doesn’t feel like the right word. I’m not mad or anything. I’m simply worried about my friends; I was already worried when we were together, but now that they are all out of my sight and everything what happens here is out of my control, I’m somehow even more anxious. I know, without a doubt, that they are in good hands here, much better hands than mine could ever be. I just hate not being able to oversee everything from the sidelines. It’s really getting on my nerves that I can hear so many voices through the thin curtains that separate us from the other beds, but I cannot see what’s going on. I can’t even hear what’s going on, since everyone’s speaking and screaming right through each other; it’s impossible to even make out a full sentence.

“Say, Yachi?” I hesitate, even when I’ve already gotten her attention to me. She might not be okay if I leave her too, but- “Would you be okay if I go and take a look around?” I just need to know how everyone’s doing. I have to see if my teammates are safe; until then, I won’t be able to find a peace of mind, and I really need rest after being wide awake for way too long.

“Yes!” she immediately squeaks. Her arms wrap around me. “Yes! That’d be perfect! Please-“

Our eyes meet when we back off. She looks terrified, but relieved at the same time. I wonder, maybe this is what she meant when she said that I have more important stuff to do; I have hurt teammates to check on and anxious classmates and underclassmen to calm down with information.

“Thank you,” I tell her, because, even though I need to do this for my own peace of mind, I probably wouldn’t have left her side if she didn’t want me to.

“No.” She shakes her head and smiles, when she says, “Thank you.” Her cheeks turn slightly red when I return the smile.

Next thing I know, I’m hopping off the bed we were sitting on. I’m know I maybe shouldn’t leave our private space behind the curtain. But I need to know what is going out with my friends.

It’s a mess of people outside in the big emergency hall that’s just outside our small private space; nurses, assistants and surgeons running around with supplies.

I’m nearly swept off my feet by some of the doctors and nurses running past me at full speed. They’re pushing a bed while yelling things at each other. If I hadn’t stepped back, they would probably have bumped into me. They’re too busy with the patient to notice, though.

I follow them with my gaze, watching them closely as they rush towards two large doors that have “Operation Room” written on them in large red kanji. It isn’t until they turn the bed to fit it through the doors, that I realize that I know the patient that’s lying in the bed.

Black hair and grayish-blue eyes may be fairly common here, but I immediately recognize the burns on the patient’s right side; Kageyama. My breath catches in my throat when I see how stressed out everyone seems. Deep down, I think we all knew that Kageyama wasn’t doing alright, but I didn’t think it’d be so urgent that he’d need multiple nurses and surgeons rushing him to the OR.

My hands start to feel sweaty just at the thought of it; all this time, he needed emergency care, and all we could give him was a tight bandage around his broken leg and some clean water for his burns. In the end, we couldn’t even supply him with painkillers to lower his fever and keep him from hurting.

I lower my gaze. It’s not your fault, Kiyoko. I remind myself. I need to keep reminding myself of that, because it’s not like I could’ve done anything other than keep him alive; I kept him breathing. With our limited access to supplies, that’s practically all I could do.

Seeing Kageyama’s state, though, makes me feel even more anxious about the others than I already was; it makes me worry about Ukai and Tsukishima, since especially Ukai seemed to be in a pretty bad place when he was hoisted into an ambulance on a stretcher. But I’m even more worried about Nishinoya, Hinata and Daichi, since they had been doing terrible for hours before we were found. Sure, I helped them all I could, so did the others, but- let’s just say that Kageyama’s state makes me anxious.

So, instead of standing around, watching at the closed doors Kageyama disappeared behind, I turn away. Facing the beds filled with emergency patients makes my heart thump loudly in my chest. I can barely even see who’s lying in each bed, since there are so many people surrounding them.

I have no clue where to start; do I just walk to the nearest bed or do I go from left to right? But we’re not the only ones in the ER, so I could very well see someone in a rough state that I have never seen before, which would be very uncomfortable for the both of us.

I’m rather relieved when I see a young-looking doctor walking out from behind a curtain. He’s got a phone pressed up against his ear, talking loudly to get over the chaos of yelling doctors and nurses that are still busy with the patient behind the curtain. I really have to focus to hear the younger guy properly over all the sounds.

“I’m sorry miss, he is in an extremely weak state, but we are trying everything we can do to save your son. Is it possible for you to get here as soon as possible?” he asks the woman he’s talking to. He nods and thanks her, probably because she’ll be on her way sooner rather than later. “There are some things I need to know before you leave, though. It is urgent that we get emergency treatment started as soon as possible.” He pauses. “Does Daichi have any allergies or health problems we should know about?”

As soon as I hear Daichi’s name I feel myself rushing towards where the man came from. I walk straight past him and towards the closed curtain. I draw a deep breath, reminding myself not to make a commotion or let anything scare me after I get in there; I’ll just take a look, see how my classmate is doing so I can inform the others about his state, and leave, preferably before any of the nurses notice me. Once I get that all sorted out in my head, I open the curtain just enough that I can look behind it.

Behind it, it’s a mess of people. I can barely even see Daichi lying in the bed, but when I do catch a glimpse of him I suddenly feel very dizzy. I’m frozen into place, staring at him as he lays lifelessly in a bed; the only thing telling me that he’s still alive is a steadily beeping heart-monitor. Other than that, he looks even worse than he was when we still in the forest.

He’s still unconscious and extremely pale apart from his feverish red cheeks. He’d been unconscious for hours when we were finally found, and he didn’t look great at all when I saw him being hoisted into an ambulance on a stretcher, but somehow seeing him attached to tubes and threads like this makes him look even sicker. Before, he just looked like he was asleep, but seeing people struggle to keep him alive while a nurse holding onto a bag rhythmically pushing air into his lungs through a tube, makes me feel like something wrong. Like we made Daichi worse without even noticing. Like, he was suffocating for hours. Dying on our watch, for an entire night and day. It feels like it’s our fault that he’s doing this bad, because we couldn’t help him enough.

Seeing one of my underclassmen needing to undergo multiple life-saving measures to survive this is one thing, but seeing one of my classmates- one of my friends, whom I’ve known and grown close with for quite some years now, hurts on a completely different level.

I just stand there, in silence, listening to them talking. It’s like all their words pass right through me. All I hear are words, medical terms that I have probably heard before, but they make no sense to me right now. Nothing makes sense. Everything I see raises questions in my head; why are they giving him air with a bag when he was breathing fine before we got here? Why have they unwrapped the bandage that was around his head to keep his wound from bleeding when they aren’t even closing it up? Why is someone shaving his hair off the right side of his head? The only thing I can think of is if they want to remove the dried up blood in his hair, but something tells me they have bigger priorities right now.

That’s when I hear it, the one word that explains it all; their stress and the actions they are taking.

“Work faster! Get everything prepped, ladies!” one of the medical staff shouts in a strong, loud and clear voice. “We need to get him to an OR as soon as we get the guardian’s approval, remember?”

The OR. I repeat in my head. Of course he also needs surgery. It makes me feel lightheaded and a little nauseated just to think about it, almost I’m having an out of body experience. I stare down at my feet, trying not to tremble too much. Trying not to break into tears; I’m not doing that. Not when I have been purposefully, and successfully, avoiding a breakdown in front of my friends for hours.

I must’ve made a move or a sound, because when clarity comes back to me a little more, all of a sudden everyone’s eyes are directed at me. Most of them look away and return to the task at hand as soon as I look up at them. One of them doesn’t, though.

“What is she doing here?” It’s the same woman who just ordered around the emergency staff, but only now her tone is confused yet even stricter than before. “Who is she? She shouldn’t be in here!”

As soon as I realize that she’s referring to me, and I’m the one who shouldn’t be here, I want to back away. Disappear and act like I didn’t see all of that. But instead, I just stand there, staring at her and how her colleagues force air into my friend’s chest while shaving away his hair, probably because he needs to have that removed for surgery. And I’m not stupid, I know dead-well what kind of surgery that implies. So, I want to leave, before I catch any more details I’m not supposed to know about.

I really do.

But my body just refuses to listen to my brain.

I feel shaken to my core by what I just saw- am still seeing. It isn’t until someone, I’m not sure who, directs me away from the whole situation and the curtains close again, that I feel I can exhale again.

I stare at the ground, vaguely hearing someone ask me if I’m alright over the buzzing in my ears. I don’t know if I shake my head or nod or even react in any way. All I know is that the next thing I know, I’m walking around freely again; no one’s following me or holding onto me, it’s just me. Walking.

Searching for something, someone I recognize. Someone who, hopefully, is in a better shape than Daichi and Kageyama. I search for Hinata, Nishinoya and Tsukishima, and of course I also look for Ukai, just without opening any curtains this time. I don’t think I can see any more of my friends in those circumstances without breaking down completely I’m afraid.

I’m about to give up when I’ve been walking around for quite some time without any successes, when I hear a familiar voice in the distance. A pretty high pitched and loud voice calls out my name, so it’s not hard to miss. And even though it sounds more hoarse than usual, it’s not hard to recognize.

“Nishinoya?” I ask, probably not loud enough for him to hear, as I turn around to where the voice came from. I almost look straight past him, because his curtain is barely even opened. There’s a small slit, though, someone probably didn’t fully close it on accident, but it’s just enough for me to see Nishinoya waving at me happily.

I make a small sprint towards him and, without thinking, I enter the space that’s private for him and his doctors. I never expected myself to feel this relieved that Nishinoya can spot me from quite a distance, since he’s normally so focussed on me that it makes me feel rather uneasy in normal circumstances. Right now, I couldn’t be happier with his strange habit, though.

What also makes me feel a lot more relieved than mere seconds ago, is the wide smile that is on Nishinoya’s face. He’s awake, responsive and above all, he looks extremely pleased with the fact that we are not in the middle of nowhere anymore. Nevertheless, it’s not hard to see that there is something going on that Nishinoya isn’t showing me. At least, that’s what the redness of the skin around his eyes makes me believe; it’s like just a moment ago, he was crying his eyes out.

Unlike with Daichi, there is not much medical staff that surrounds his bed. But, just like it was with Daichi, I do feel a certain unease just by being here. Like I interrupted something important.

“Who is she?” the only doctor in the room asks Nishinoya. He doesn’t sound like he wants me gone straight away, unlike the previous doctor that had me taken away from the scene. Maybe that’s just because Nishinoya’s in a much better shape than Daichi, or maybe he’s just a calmer doctor overall.

“She’s a friend of mine,” Nishinoya explains. “She was in the crash with me.”

“Alright, then, that’s good to know for when you’re recovering,” the guy says, before turning to me. He sticks out gives me a polite nod before introducing himself as Akihiko Bushida, head of pediatric surgery. “Nishinoya’s going to need some friends to stick with him, who know what he’s gone through.” He pauses shortly. “But-“ Dr Bushida turns back to Nishinoya. “I’m going to need her to give us a moment so we can privately discuss your options. Remember?”

I glance from the young pediatric surgeon to Nishinoya. The unease stays, maybe even worsens, when I watch how tears well up in Nishinoya’s eyes again. He doesn’t allow any to spill, though. “Sure-“ He swallows audibly, and for a moment he looks so weak. So scared. “Can I ask her one last thing, though?” In typical Nishinoya fashion, he doesn’t wait for an answer, and instead turns to me right away. “Kiyoko?” he asks, his voice careful. “Have you- Do you know how the others are doing?”

I feel a heaviness on my chest when I nod once. I don’t actually want to tell him, though; I don’t want to give him any more bad news, when he’s clearly just had his own fair share of things to deal with.

“Are they-“ He takes a quick breath. “Are they all still alive?”

I nod again, hiding most of what I saw; Kageyama being rushed to the operation room, Daichi being prepped for brain surgery and I won’t even think about the fact that I haven’t even found the others.

“Good.” His face relaxes a little as he nods to himself. “Thank you.”

I mouth “no problem”, because with a lump blocking my throat, I feel like I can’t even speak. After doing that, I turn around. Deep down, I do feel some content, knowing that I send Nishinoya into a tough conversation with some good hope, at least.

“Oh, and-“ Nishinoya’s voice grabs my attention, just when I’m about to leave. “Please don’t worry too much, okay?” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Not about me, and not about the others.”

It’s a strange thing to ask of me, considering the situation we’re in. But then again, I also don’t want him to worry about me, or anyone else, either.

“I mean,” he continues. “We survived a freaking bus accident by camping out in the middle of the woods with very few supplies; we’re in good hands now. We should be fine.”

I’m glad I’m standing with my back towards Nishinoya, because his words make tears well up in my eyes. Not because they make me sad, because they don’t do that at all; They make me feel reassured. Like, for the first time since we crashed, the weight of everyone’s life isn’t on my shoulders anymore.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Yuu Nishinoya
Saturday, 17:15

When I was young, grandpa would constantly yell at me to put on my seatbelt as soon as I got in the car. Even when we were practically standing still or when we were just searching for a spot in the parking lot. He told me that you never knew what might happen; another car could drive into ours without us even seeing it coming. No one ever told me exactly what would happen if someone drove into us, but I still needed to wear my seatbelt at all times, so I wouldn’t get hurt.

I followed that advise when I was younger; strapping my belt as soon as I got in the car and not loosening it until we were ready to get out of it. But, at some point in my life, this just seemed to become less important. I think part of me might’ve forgotten about what I was taught, because I wasn’t afraid of everything anymore.

I wish I had never forgotten it, though.

Just because I wanted to lie down, get some rest, after sitting upright in the bus for way too many hours, I ignored the advice given to me since I was a small child. I made one stupid mistake and now, I’ll be reminded of it for the rest of my entire life. Because now I know what happens when you don’t wear your seatbelt when you get into an accident; you’ll fly. You’ll just soar through the air at full speed, unable to chance your direction or move your body as you see the ceiling coming towards you. No matter what, you’ll be too late. You will hit the ceiling, before crashing into the floor again at full force. I still remember it, clear as day, how it felt when my back collided with the bus’s ground as we came to a sudden halt. I still remember the pain, like a thousand knives stabbing me starting in my back and reaching down all the way to the tips of my toes. In that moment, all I could do was scream, because it wasn’t just normal pain. It felt like I was literally dying.

All I wanted, in that moment, was for the pain to stop. I wished for it to just leave, for it to stop torturing me for some foolish mistake I had made.

And it listened.

Sooner rather than later, the stabs became more like the pricks of a needle, before turning into a barely noticeable tingle that came and went with waves.

Deep down, I already had a hunch of what that probably meant. That doesn’t mean I couldn’t feel my heart break when, after putting me through painful scans and physical exams for half an hour or so, followed by an agonizing wait for the results, a young doctor’s grim expression already tells me more than enough; things are not looking well for me.

“Hello-“ He glances down at his chart swiftly. “-Nishinoya.” He shows me a polite, yet not-really-happy smile, before putting the clipboard down on the table at the foot of the bed. He gives me a short bow. “I’m Akihiko Bushida, but you can just call me Akihiko.” He smiles politely. “I’m the head of pediatrics’.”

It takes some convincing myself, but I manage to give him a polite nod in return without it hurting my back; it didn’t hurt before either, but nevertheless, my body still feels like it could start hurting terribly when I make the wrong move. That’s why I take a hold of his hand and shake it with utter care. “Yuu Nishinoya,” I mutter in response, even though he already knows that.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, with a kind smile while making sure he’s got the curtains closed. There’s still a small strip opened, probably on accident, but I like having more to look at than just this small room surrounded by light blue curtains. It makes me feel a bit claustrophobic.

After making sure that everything’s private, and that it’s just the two of us, Akihiko sits down on a stool that’s been right beside my bed all this time.

“Alright, Nishinoya,” he begins, his tone sounds light and warm, even though his eyes tell me that he’s going to tell me bad news. “As you know, some of my colleagues have just done some tests and scans. We have looked at them and I believe I have a pretty good idea of what’s going on with you.”

Yeah, well, duh. Even I kinda know. I don’t say out loud, but I can feel that I almost do. Instead I nod.

“Now, I am going to have to warn you-“ There’s that grim feel to his vibe again. “-I’m afraid it’s not good news, but I’m going to have to tell it to you. My most important question is; do you want me to tell you now, or would you rather wait until your parents or other close family members have arrived?”

“My grandfather is on his way, yeah,” I correct him, because I don’t want to even think about my parents right now; they won’t come and visit me, they can’t. “But, nah, just rip the Band-Aid off! I can handle it.” I fake a smile, which probably ends up looking more like a wince than a smile.

Akihiko nods while tucking a long strand of black hair behind his ear. “Alright,” he says after a deep inhale. His eyes show me that he’s genuinely sorry for me.

He spins around in his seat, grabbing the laptop that has been standing on a high desk. One of the doctors that gave me a physical exam earlier kept filling out stuff on it earlier.

“I’m going to show you something, okay?” Akihiko waits for me to nod until he clicks on some things on his laptop, before turning it to me. On the screen, there’s a grayscale scan. I didn’t pay much attention during biology, but I recognize the spine anyway.

“This is a healthy spine.”

I don’t know what that has to do with my options, but I listen anyway; who knows, it could be important to know when explaining my friends how they should not worry about me.

He clicks to the next picture. “What we see here is your spine.”

I stare at the image. Even though I can see that it’s different than the previous one, I wouldn’t be able to tell you what’s wrong or what it means for me. Not going from this scan, anyway.

“What we immediately noticed is that you have a fractured vertebra,” he explains slowly, pointing at certain parts of the picture to show what he’s talking about. “The fragments of the bone are pushing into your spinal cord, compressing it.” He pauses, before adding, “This isn’t a good thing.”

“I thought so, yeah.” I force a chuckle, even though we both know it’s not funny.

“Putting that, together with your physical exam-“ He puts away the scan, before turning back to me with a serious expression on his face. “I can say with certainty that you have a spinal cord injury because of a fractured T10 vertebra, which is causing you to have complete loss of function in everything below your belly button.” He takes a slow breath, allowing me to take a quick breath too, before he carefully adds, “I am sorry, Nishinoya, but you are paralyzed.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, I feel a bit faint. Like how I feel when I have just played a long and tiring match and we somehow managed to mess up in the end making us lose. It almost feels like I was just going to wake up and realize it is all a bad dream. But, honestly, after not waking up during the seventeen hours we spent in the woods, I already am fully aware that I’m not dreaming. No amount of pinching myself is going to make this come to an end, because this is very real.

Tears well up in my eyes. Blurring my vision to the point that I can barely see the pediatric surgeon sitting beside me. I look away, probably because I can’t stand the look of pity in his eyes when he tells me, “I can only imagine how difficult it must be for you.”

And difficult it is- A tear seeps down my cheek. I immediately wipe the tear away with my hand, trying my best to blink away the tears that still fill up my eyes, because I am not a cry baby. Not anymore.

I have left that part of me behind, and ever since I have despised the sensation of a tear rolling down my cheek, leaving that cold and numb feeling of sadness behind on my skin.

“But my colleagues and I are going to be with you through this.” I remain fixated on anything but looking at Akihiko when he shortly mentions that we have some treatment options to consider. “That way, we will be able to do everything we can to help you, to the best of our abilities.”

I don’t want options, though; not when they won’t include me getting control over my legs back. So, right now, I just want to have something to smile about. So, even though I feel like I should be thinking about questions or talking about treatment options, I’m staring through the slit in the curtain searching for something bright in the dark and grim situation I’m in.

That’s when I see her, absentmindedly wandering through the main hall of the emergency room. Kiyoko has her arms wrapped around herself. If you’d ask me, I’d say looks upset; not the type of upset that she is when Tanaka and I take the flirting a step too far in her opinion, but more like she might collapse and break into tears any second now. I feel like she, more than me, could use some cheering up. And, be it selfish or not, I need to lighten someone’s mood before I have the daunting conversation about what I can and cannot do anymore. So, I open my mouth and shout her name.

Her shoulders tense up when she hears my voice. Unlike most times, this isn’t followed by her ducking away or dodging me, instead she immediately starts searching. Visible relief washes over her when our eyes meet, probably because I’m waving at her, showing her a big bright smile that hides my pain.

Just like that, she comes walking towards me.

“Who is she?” Akihiko asks me. I half expect his voice to be the flirty type of curious, because that’s how guys usually react when they see Kiyoko. It could just be because he’s a professional and at least Takeda’s age, but he sounds confused rather than impressed. More like he’s asking me why she’s here.

“She’s a friend of mine.” I hesitate shortly before adding, “She was in the crash with me.”

Kiyoko stands frozen still, staring at Akihiko for some sort of response. She almost looks like she’s bracing herself to be sent away. So, a small relief seems to wash over her when Akihiko instead says, “Alright, then, that’s good to know for when you’re recovering.”

There goes Kiyoko’s relief; soon replaced by a grimace on her face. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look this worried, not even when we had just gotten out of a burning bus and she ended up being one of the few people on our team that knew some things about first aid. Now, she looks like she’s a single wrong word away from bursting into tears. That’s why I cannot have Akihiko telling her about my injury; she cannot know that I am not fine. She is not a fragile person, I’ve seen with my own eyes that she isn’t. I just do not want to put the pressure of me being paralyzed, probably because of the lack of professional care, on her. Not when she’s clearly already so close to the edge of a breakdown.

So, as soon as Akihiko starts to mention that I’m “going to need some friends to stick with me” especially “someone who knows what I’ve gone through” I want to bud in. I want so badly to tell him to just shut up, because I want to tell her about my injury when the guys are around. When people can embrace each other when they hear the news, rather than being all alone and scared like Kiyoko is.

I open my mouth to stop him, when he already does that himself.

“I’m going to need her to give us a moment so we can privately discuss your options. Remember?” he asks me, and even though I still don’t really want to talk about treatment options, I nod in response.

“Sure,” I reply, it comes out sounding a lot ruder than I planned it to. Maybe that’s because the lump in my throat is causing my voice to become all croaky. I look down at my lap and swallow thickly; I don’t want her to leave. “Can I ask her one last thing, though?” I blurt out before I can even think. Next, follows the question that has been in my mind for all the time I was waiting on my results. “Kiyoko, have you- Do you know how the others are doing?” I’m so desperate to know that I don’t even think about whether it’s hypocritical of my to not tell her about my condition and still ask about everyone else’s. But what if one of the options has me separated from my team for even longer? What if someone’s dead or actively dying and I don’t even know it? “Are they-“ Breath catches in my throat, for a second my voice fades away. “Are they all still alive?”

Kiyoko hesitates, I can see it in her eyes, because it’s a look I haven’t seen on her before either; she always seems to know what to say or do directly. She’s badass like that. But now she hesitates, just a little, before nodding her head.

“Good.”

They’re alive. It feels like a breath of fresh air to have something optimistic to think about right now, especially since I thought being rescued would be the good thing that would get me on my feet again. Instead I have been deprived of good things to think about ever since we arrived at the hospital. It feels good to know that, at least, everyone’s still alive. They will all stay alive. I remind myself.

“Thank you.” A careful smile of relief appears on my face. A real one, this time.

She whispers, “No problem.” But Kiyoko’s expression seems to doubt that statement; there’s no trace of relief to be found on her face, so there must be some problem. She turns around as soon as she can, though, probably because she doesn’t want me to see the sadness in her eyes.

I’m not letting her leave with that grim expression on her face, so I tell her not to worry; not about me, but not about our friends and coaches either. “I mean, we survived a freaking bus accident by camping out in the middle of the woods with very few supplies; we’re in good hands now.”

Her shoulders tense up again, shaking a little.

“We should be fine.” We will be fine.

She takes a deep breath, so deep that it’s visible, before thanking me. Her voice is soft and shaky and if I didn’t know her any better I’d think that she’s crying; Kiyoko doesn’t easily cry, though, so it must just be my imagination. After that, she walks away. Closing the curtain behind her fully.

Leaving me in this tiny private space with a daunting conversation ahead of me.

I stare at the closed curtain in front of me and sigh. “Where were we?” I eventually ask, when I’m ready to talk about it. “My options?” The word makes me a little nauseated, because it feels stupid to tell me that I have options when I’m sure none of them will miraculously heal me.

“Yes.” Akihiko nods once. He takes a slow breath, almost like he needs to reset himself after he was just interrupted by Kiyoko’s quick visit. Which makes sense, I feel a little disoriented too; almost like, after speaking to Kiyoko, I’m not sure whether I’m relieved or an absolute wreck. “With an injury like yours, there are only so many things we can do, but that doesn’t mean that we won’t try our best to find the course of treatment that works for you.”

I nod in response, letting him know that he can continue.

“What I would recommend for treatment is that we go in surgically, to remove the bone fragments and relief the pressure that’s on your spinal cord right now,” he explains. “Seeing as your paralysis is complete, I’m afraid it’s unlikely that it will help you regain function, but it is certain to make your back pain much more bearable than it is right now. To follow up the surgery you-“

Everything he says practically passes through me. It’s not like I’m not interested in getting any treatment, I really am, because I know it’s even worse when I deny all my options. It’s more like my body and mind are momentarily in a state where I horrendously fail to absorb any information; that’s what happens too, in classes, when I sleep too little at night. And the same is happening right now.

It’s frustrating, because I know there are important decisions I’ll have to make based off of this information. But I don’t know what to do.

I from my hands into fists as I fight back tears. They’re tears of sadness and frustration, but maybe even more so, they are tears of pure fear. A fear of making the wrong choices, or of making the right ones but having them fail nevertheless. I’m terrified. And I hate it.

I feel like a small child again.

My voice is tinier than ever before when I ask Akihiko if we can please wait until my grandpa is here. At first I don’t know why I want to wait, but after a while the realization hits me; I’m all alone. There’s no one to embrace me, wipe my tears now that that news has reached me to its fullest. There’s no one who can talk some sense into me when I’m about to make the wrong choice.

“If you want to wait, we can wait. As long as you need to.”

I nod once. A tear falls down my cheek. “Yes, I want to wait for him.”

I’m ready to admit that I need someone to stand by me; this is something I cannot do on my own.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Tadashi Yamaguchi
Saturday, 17:31

Each time I get my blood tested for something minor, I feel a certain fear. Never have I known if it’s because of the pinch of the needle, the blood, the fact that the nurse is human and therefore could easily make mistakes, or simply the atmosphere of hospital itself. There’s just this unease that I feel whenever I set foot in a hospital. I don’t know why I feel it, and it’s mild enough that I always forget about it until I take the first step into an area with a medical vibe.

I thought it was just hospitals that caused it, but when Tsukki and I followed a paramedic, who rode Hinata on a stretcher, into the ambulance, I felt that same unease. The same sweatiness that covered my hands, the quicker pounding of my heart and chills that spread over my entire body.

As soon as the doors of the ambulance closed, I felt claustrophobic. Trapped.

We were with too many people in such a small space, and I basically sat stuck between Hinata’s stretcher and the wall of the ambulance. I could see everything going on with Hinata as they asked him to rate his pain on a scale of one to ten. He was only barely able to answer with “nine, at least” before someone pressed on his stomach. I was looking right at him when the light faded from his eyes.

Making sure that he was still alive, they gave him air through a mask and some type of fluid from a bag, followed by a full exam to find out where his pain was coming from and how on Earth to stop it. When they pulled up his shirt and I saw how bruised and swollen his entire stomach was, I felt like I was going to faint, just like Hinata had, right then and there. For the first time I felt jealous of Tsukki; he just sat there, unfazed, because he didn’t have to see the state our classmate was in.

Of course, he also heard everything they said; from Hinata’s heartbeat being extremely fast and how he also was extremely anemic from bleeding into his abdomen. He heard every single word, but even after we got out of the ambulance and witnessed a few doctors rushing Hinata to the operating room for a surgery to stop the bleeding, Tsukki refused to allow me to know that it did anything to him.

Now, still, almost fifty minutes later, Tsukki still has a blank stare on his face.

The both of us have been sitting side by side on one of the hospital beds for quite some time now, since we have to wait until someone can see us; they’re all busy treating the worst cases, including Hinata. I think Daichi, Nishinoya, Kageyama and Ukai also probably fall within the group of people who need emergency care as soon as possible.

Part of me believes that Tsukki should also fall under emergency care. I might not be a doctor, so I don’t know what it means when someone suddenly cannot see a thing right after a car crash, but I’d say that having eyesight is a vital part of living. Something that needs to be fixed before it can get any worse. Or at least, that’s my opinion. But when they saw me directing Tsukki from the ambulance into the emergency department, they didn’t give us much attention.

A doctor was sent to us, directing the both of us to this bed. She got ready to take a look, but was called away for some bigger emergency before she was able to even find out that Tsukki’s injured.

She promised she would send someone to help us as soon as possible.

Here we are, over half an hour later, and no one has come to see us yet. It’s like they don’t even care about treating him, maybe because they don’t see that he’s also hurt. The least they can do is ask us before making up their mind and putting others’ care above his.

I grind my teeth.

“Stop worrying, Yamaguchi,” Tsukki mutters.

I didn’t know I was being so obvious. I don’t usually really get worked up; I’m a pretty calm guy. But I am not a fan of hospitals, they already make me feel on edge enough, and when we are also just ignored because we look like we aren’t hurt it just gets on my nerves even more.

“I’m just-“

“Worried?” Tsukki finishes my sentence.

I hang my head and sigh. “Yeah.” Because I am, and I have a right to be; what if Tsukki’s sudden blindness has been caused by internal bleeding too. I mean, Hinata was bleeding on the inside for hours and we didn’t notice until he literally fainted and we couldn’t not notice it anymore. The fact that Tsukki has now developed dark bruising around his eyes doesn’t make me feel much more at ease either, if anything, it makes me even more anxious. I’m just afraid that, even though we might’ve been saved on time, the doctors will take so much time before treating him that it won’t even be fixable.

“Well, don’t.”

“Sorry.” I glance at Tsukki to see that he’s staring out in front of himself again. There’s a blank expression on his face, still, like none of this worries him even slightly; like it doesn’t bother him that Hinata was apparently doing so bad that he needed an immediate surgery that we haven’t been able to reunite with the others yet. It’s like he doesn’t care. But I know he does.

He might not be especially worried about himself, that’s just how Tsukishima is; he doesn’t do self-care too well, that’s why I should always have an eye out for him. But I do know that he’s been sheltering the other from harm for this entire time. He didn’t initially tell them about his injury, because they had enough to worry about. He kept it a secret, because he wanted all the care directed at the people who needed it more than him; he didn’t want anyone’s eyes to be on him, because that would distract them from taking good care of Hinata, Kageyama, Daichi and Nishinoya.

And, looking back, maybe it was wrong of me to take that from him by telling Ukai that Tsukishima was also hurt. I do regret it. Especially since the blunt words Tsukki just spoke to me are the first words he has said to me since I snitched on him. But that doesn’t mean that I take back that I think he does need help; now that everyone’s in good hands, it’s his time to be treated. Finally.

My back’s slowly starting to ache, so I try to quickly straighten it. When I put my hands back down on my sweatpants, the dried up mud on the fabric in friction with my hands, makes a sound.

“What are you doing?” Tsukki asks, his tone harsh yet again.

I frown, a little confused as to what he means, before noticing that I’ve been unconsciously rubbing my hands over my sweatpants. Over and over again. I think I did that too when we just got in the ambulance, but it was just because I felt my hands getting sweaty. Through all the time of waiting, it has been come some sort of nervous habit, I believe. My hands aren’t even clammy anymore, instead they are starting to become raw and dry. I just need something to do to allow my nerves to get out.

“Look-“ Tsukki snaps. “If you need something to calm your nerves just go search a nurse and ask her for a sedative or something.” He would probably sound mad for most people, but I can tell he’s not. His voice is trembling enough for me to notice right away; he’s the one that needs something to calm his nerves. And me and my nervous ticks are not really helping, which I can understand.

“So, are you?” I ask him. “Nervous, I mean?”

“No-“ His expression darkens, though. He breathes in slowly before blurting, “Hinata is just getting a laparotomy; knowing him he’ll be back to being hyperactive and annoying in no time. Kageyama’s broken leg should be an easy fix, and cosmetics can go a long way, even for burn victims. As for Nishinoya, he probably got a whiplash, which is easy enough to treat. Daichi’s got a concussion and I’m sure that Ukai’s lung problems are just due to him being a smoker.” He exhales slowly. “And me? I’m certain I just forgot how crap my vision is without my glasses. I’m sure.”

I have never heard Tsukki rant like that, not even when we lose important matches. He’s not really someone that likes to talk about things, he’s more of a bottling-things-up-kind-of-person. But that, just now, was without a doubt what he convinced himself to believe. I can see just by looking at his face that he doesn’t believe a single word he just said, and maybe it’s for the better that he doesn’t, because it is false information. Sure, Hinata could be alright when he wakes up from surgery, and yes, maybe Ukai’s lungs were already more fragile because he smokes. But something tells me that they, especially Nishinoya, Daichi and Kageyama, are not in for an easy and swift recovery.

And neither is Tsukki himself.

Maybe lots of investigation, tedious surgeries and a lot of medication will fix it, but things are going to take time. I don’t have to tell him that, though; he’s well-aware of that fact.

“We’re in a bad situation.” I rest my hand on his leg and nod my head. “It’s okay to be nervous.”

His eyes grow gloomy when he realizes I know; he doesn’t have to play pretend anymore. Not for my sake anyway. He’s allowed to show that he’s afraid or worried, if anything, I’m glad that he’s showing it now. Especially since we were in a crash together and, while I might not have been hurt myself, I do certainly understand his pain. His fear. I’m glad he’s showing it to me now.

“I am so sorry for the wait-“ The sudden, fairly loud, voice startles me. I immediately pull back my hand and turn to the nurse who just walked towards us. When I glance at Tsukki to see if he’s just as startled, I see that his face has gone back to a blank stare as well. No pain or nervousness to be seen.

The woman sits down on a stool opposite of us. She takes a quick look at the both of us, before asking, “What would be the problem?” For some reason, I feel like the question is mostly directed at me, even though I’m not the one who needs medical help; I barely even have a bruise.

“We were in a car crash,” I tell her.

Her eyebrow twitches a little, before she apologizes again. “I didn’t know you had come in with the other car crash victims.” She does sound a bit upset now, probably because she and all her colleagues left us sitting here for over half an hour or so without even asking us if we weren’t experiencing any pain; the fact that we were also in the same accident that brought in five critically ill patients probably makes her feel even worse. “Are you experiencing any pain?” She looks straight at me.

I stare back, squinting at her. “Uh-“

“On a scale of one to ten, rate your pain.”

“W-Well that’s not really-” I shoot a glance at Tsukki, hoping maybe he’ll help me out by saying that he is the injured one. All he shows is a small smirk on his face, clearly enjoying hearing me stammer like this. I draw a careful breath. “Zero.”

“Zero?”

“Yes, I don’t feel any pain-“

She looks a bit confused when she opens her mouth to say something. It makes sense; I probably also look like a mess, maybe even more so than Tsukki. Also, I most certainly look ten times more nervous and pale and shaky, whereas he’s not showing any of his pain to the nurse.

Before she can make any more assumptions, I quickly add, “But he does.” I gesture at Tsukki.

The nurse shifts her glance from me to Tsukki. “I am so sorry.” She gives Tsukki a short polite bow, which he doesn’t return to her; it makes him seem like an ass, like he really blames her for not noticing that he’s hurt. That’s probably not the case, though; I doubt he even know she bowed.

“Well, than the same question goes for you.” She smiles kindly. “Rate your pain on a scale of one to ten; one being no pain at all and ten feeling like dying.”

Tsukki shrugs. “One, probably.”

The nurse blinks at him, her expression confused. “Then, may I ask why you are waiting for help?” She makes sure to sound polite when she carefully adds, “I can show you where the waiting area is.”

“No, thank you,” Tsukki tells her. He takes a slow breath before admitting, “I can’t see.”

“What?”

“Ever since the accident, I have been seeing worse, and now-“ He presses his lips to a firm line. I can tell that he doesn’t want to say the words, almost like saying it makes it real. “I’m completely blind.”

The nurse’s expression falls, I can tell just by looking at her that she’s a bit shocked, but she doesn’t allow Tsukki to hear that she is. Instead she scoots a little closer and calmly tells him, “Is it alright if I take a look?”

As soon as Tsukki nods she leans in closer, holding a flashlight in one hand. She shines it in Tsukki’s eyes, to which he immediately flinches. It looks like he’s in pain, but when she asks him if he is, he says it’s must be tiredness causing him this headache.

After just a second or two, she turns off the flashlight and writes down some things. “I’m going to page Dr Uchida for you, he’s our ophthalmologist. I believe it to be important that a specialist takes a look at your eyes.” She explains that Tsukki will probably be taken through a few tests and scans before Uchida can tell him what’s going on with his eyes.

Tsukki nods once. “Alright.”

I breathe in slowly, staring at my lap. I already was nervous enough, but the fact that she’ll calling over a specialist to look at Tsukki’s eyes makes me even more worried. What if it’s worse than we hoped? What if- I shake my head; I shouldn’t let myself get worked up. For Tsukki’s sake.

The nurse turns to me and says, “I think it’s important to give your friend some privacy and space while he goes through these tests.” She can probably tell that it’s making me nervous. And while I don’t like having to leave Tsukki alone, but somewhere deep down I know it would only upset me to see him going through those tests. That, and he’ll feel like he has to act tough because I’m present; I rather have that he can be emotional if he needs to, because I would want that freedom as well if it were me.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “You’re right.”

“Let me show you where you can wait.”

I nod once, getting up from the bed. I say a quick “bye” and “good luck” to Tsukki, before following the nurse out of the room. Across the room, there’s a small waiting area with benches and some magazines to read. It’s crowded in there, which is to be expected since six people of the waiting people are just ones from my team.

Most of them don’t even really react when I walk towards them, but maybe that’s because I take a seat in complete silence. Because, what else is there to say? There are no comforting words I can give them, not when I can’t even soothe my own nerves. Maybe they feel the same, so it’s better to stay silent.

Takeda seems like he’s lost in his thoughts, maybe replaying the whole accident inside of his head again and again. Kiyoko’s stroking Yachi’s head as she’s got her eyes closed as she leans on Kiyoko’s shoulder, both of them look like they have just stopped crying mere seconds ago. Maybe they even just got here; they don’t really look settled in quite as much as the others, Yachi’s still got her crutches resting up against herself, one arm still locked in the rest. Sugawara’s furiously staring up at the clock, not paying attention to Asahi, who’s seated right next to him and looks like he’s in the middle of a mental breakdown. The only person who isn’t staring off into space is Tanaka, who’s pacing up and down the room with his phone pressed up against his ear. I hear him say, “Yes, Saeko, I promise I’ll stay on the phone. Just pay attention to the road instead of your phone, okay?”

I wonder if the others have called their loved ones as well. I wonder if they are all eagerly waiting for them to arrive, even though it’ll take them at least four or five more hours to get from Miyagi to Tokyo. I wonder if everyone even has people to call, or if the others aren’t even trying, just like me.

I want to call someone, tell them what I’ve gone through and survived, but I just don’t have that. Sure, I have my parents, but I know how busy they are; I cannot ask them to come here all the way from across the sea to be with me. It’d been different if I got hurt, because I know they would come and stay by my side through the entire healing process, but in the circumstances I don’t want to worry them.

But I want to call someone. Anyone.

So, without hesitation, I take my phone out of my pocket. Fortunately it isn’t broken, this way I can reach out to the only person I know who would be interested in knowing what happened. Someone who needs to know before someone else tells him. Someone who will come and actually care.

I press call and hold my phone against my ear. My heart is racing in my chest as I hear the phone ring once, twice- breath catches in my throat when the phone finally connects.

“Hey, kiddo!” He sounds happy; he doesn’t know yet. “How’s training camp? Working on that jump float serve of yours?”

I want to tell him, but no sound comes out.

“Er, Yamaguchi?”

The lump in my throat prevents me from making a sound.

“Is something wrong?”

How can I tell him? Tears well up in my eyes. What’s the right way? I have to force every bit of energy into pushing the words out of my mouth.

“We never got there, Shimada.” I swallow thickly. “Our bus crashed.”

It hurts to hear him gasp. Hear him go silent as he thinks about the consequences. Emotionally, on a scale of one to ten, it hurts for at least a nine to know that someone cares enough to be silenced by this dreadful news. And yet, I don’t feel any sadness or regret in response; if anything telling what happened to someone important makes me more relieved than ever before.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Makoto Shimada
Saturday, 17:40

I used to believe that, when something terrible is going to happen, you can feel it. You might not be aware of the thing that is going to happen or who it will happen to, but you’ll just have this lingering feeling of dread in your stomach. For twenty-six years, I trusted in my gut, believing that it would tell me when a tragedy is about to strike.

My gut failed me.

Never has it warned me about the phone call I would be getting tonight. The tragedy that I would witness, overwhelming me with how sudden my world gets turned around; I didn’t feel it coming.

“We never got there, Shimada.” Yamaguchi pauses for just long enough to allow a million of worst-case scenarios to go through my head as for why they wouldn’t have arrived at their training camp. But then he says, “Our bus crashed.” which wasn’t even one of my options to begin with.

I try to ask him how it happened, and when, and why, but instead breath catches in my throat. I’m speechless. Completely caught off guard by this sudden call. Because when you’re just making some omurice for dinner, you don’t expect your best friend’s pupil to call and tell you that their bus crashed on their way to a training camp. Buses, especially when filled with kids, should not be allowed to crash, in my opinion. Thus why it never even crossed my mind.

I do admit, I was somewhat confused when Ukai didn’t text me or Takinoue when they were supposed to have arrived at the training camp. I knew he’s not obliged to text his friends, but he seemed so excited and kind of nervous about it before they left that I’d expected for him to at least text us a message to let us know that they got there safely. I thought he just forgot, but now I know that that was naive of me to think; in real life my friend, along with his students, crashed.

I shake my head, trying not to freak out. I have a kid, one of his students, on the phone.

I.

Cannot.

Freak.

Out.

Now.

“So-“ I whisper, trying to get my breathing back to normal. “Well. Er-“ I close my eyes and calmly ask myself the question; How on Earth does one react to this type of news? “A-Are you okay?”

“I am.” He pauses. “I think- I’m not hurt, so I think I’m okay.”

“And Ukai?” I’m not quite sure if I am supposed to ask this; what if Yamaguchi called to get a weight off his chest rather than inform me about everyone’s state. I need to know it, though.

Yamaguchi swallows audibly.

“What? Is he-“ I don’t want to make assumptions, it’s just that my gut-feeling tells me something’s up.

“He’s alive. I think-“ Yamaguchi’s voice fades. I hear static for a couple of seconds, my heartbeat rises when I realize that they might not be somewhere where he has full service connection; what if they’re still not safe? What if he’s calling to let me get help? But just as I’m about to ask if I should call the police for him, his voice returns, calm and relieved. “I can confirm, he’s alive for as far as everyone knows. We’re in the emergency room so he’s getting professional emergency care as we speak.”

“He needs actual surgeons?” My heart falls followed by this anxious stinging in my stomach. “He’s doing that bad?” I feel sick. I try to tell myself that it’s because of the smell of cooking rice, but I know dead-well that it’s because I’ve just sort of been told that someone I’ve been friends with for over ten years is in need of professional emergency treatment. “How bad is it?”

“I don’t know- pretty bad?” Yamaguchi blurts out. I guess he’s still a bit overwhelmed himself.

I tell myself that I shouldn’t be asking him all these questions; this kid has gone through a traumatizing experience, he shouldn’t pay for the fact that my friend got hurt in that same crash. I shouldn’t be putting so much pressure on Yamaguchi. But at the same time, I just want to know how Ukai is doing.

“Where are you?” I eventually ask.

“The hospital.”

“Which hospital?”

“In Tokyo- I don’t know- uh-“ His voice fades again. I now recognize the static I heard before as him putting his hand over the speaker of his voice, I can vaguely hear him asking for the hospital’s name in the background. As soon as he knows, his voice returns loud and clear again. He tells me exactly where they are, and immediately adds, “Ukai should be in good hands here. Everyone is.”

Somehow his comforting words make me more anxious, because that probably means more of them got hurt, not just Ukai. Kids got hurt in this accident. Just the thought makes me lightheaded.

I thank him anyway.

Both of us stay silent for a second. He, probably because he doesn’t know what to say, and me, because I’m trying to keep myself from freaking out internally. Because I need to be in total control over my stress if I want to do this. “Yes-“ I mutter to myself after a while. I’m doing this. “Yamaguchi, I’m going to hang up, but if something happens I want you to call me immediately.”

“Okay.”

“I’m coming your way.”

He stays silent again, maybe a little too silent. Does he doubt my choice? Too bad; I am driving to Tokyo, tonight. I am not letting my friend and my best and only pupil go through this alone. That’s just not an option. So, before he can tell me otherwise, I quickly tell him I’ll see him in a couple of hours and then I hang up. I feel terrible immediately after, though; what if I freaked him out?

The only one freaking out here is me. That is a fact.

I close my eyes and try to get myself to take it step by step. Not to think about what could happen in the future, because no one can know. All I can do now is do the thing that is going to matter in this very moment; call Takinoue and let him know what happened. I take out my phone.

It takes a little while, but he eventually picks up the phone. “Hey!” He sounds like he’s going to say more, like he usually does when I call, but I open my mouth before he can do that.

“Ukai was in a car crash.”

“Oh-God-“ He pauses. “Old man Ukai?”

I shake my head, feeling a bit bad that I actually wished it was our old coach and Ukai’s grandfather rather than my friend; I immediately feel terrible for even thinking like that. “No. Our Ukai.” I close my eyes. “And his students.” I can feel tears stinging behinds my eyelids, but there’s no time for crying; not right now, not when doctors are still fighting for him. “They’re at the hospital now, but it sounds bad.”

A short silence is followed by a sighed curse word. “What now?”

I bite the inside of my cheek. “I was thinking we drive to Tokyo.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.” Or at least, I know I am, I just hope that Takinoue will come with me; I need someone near me to remind me not to freak out. Someone who makes sure I won’t crash as well. “Will you-“

“Of course,” he immediately replies, even before I finish my question. “I’ll be at yours in ten.” He hangs up the phone right after that. Leaving me with silence, and a total of ten minutes to prepare.

I take that time to fill up a bag with food and drinks and an extra few sets of clothes just in case we decide to stay there for a couple of days. I wonder whether I should call Ukai’s parents and grandfather, but before I can do that, there’s a knock on the door.

I actually doubt that it’s Takinoue, since he’s never actually on time, but when I open the door he’s there. He’s also got a bag around his shoulders and he’s completely out of breath, so he probably ran all the way here in under ten minutes. I didn’t know his stamina was still good enough to do that.

“Let’s go,” he says in between pants.

I can see that he’s completely out of breath, and yet he’s the first one who makes his way to my car. “I didn’t think you’d be so up for this,” I admit when we’ve both taken a seat. I know Takinoue’s up for a lot and, unlike me, he doesn’t need his things planned out before hand, but I also know he’s not a fan of driving long distances or hospitals.

“He’s our friend, Shimada.” He stares out of the window. “And he needs us.”

I turn the key and start the car, because he’s right; Ukai needs us, as soon as possible. Even if that’s five hours from now, we will be there for him through all of this.

“So, what exactly happened?” Takinoue asks me once I’ve just got the car moving. I wished he just wouldn’t have asked me, turned up the music, because I shouldn’t think about it; thinking about what might’ve happened makes me nervous to drive. But he also has a right to know what I know.

I shrug once, briefly thinking about pulling over before I tell him what Yamaguchi told me. But I decide that it’s best to keep driving; we’ll be there faster if we don’t stop anywhere. “I don’t know much either, but their bus crashed on their way to Tokyo. You know, for that training camp Ukai told us about.”

“Wait, but wasn’t that-“

“Yesterday?” I nod. “It was.”

He takes a second before asking, “Why were we only called just now?”

“I have no idea.” I wish I knew. “But it sounded like they just got the hospital themselves; they were still in the emergency room after all. Which is strange.” That’s a mild way to put it.

“I haven’t seen anything about it on the news either-“ He takes his hand through his hair. “Strange.”

“Tell me that.”

We both go completely silent. Even though the radio is barely even on an audible volume, I can hear it. I can hear the cars zooming past us as we drive onto the high way. Each time one of them drives past me at full speed, I feel my heart skip a beat. Wondering if they might’ve gotten hit by another car.

You’ve never been scared of driving. I remind myself; I was the first of us three who got his license. I wasn’t scared back then, when we were driving recklessly, and I shouldn’t be scared now either.

“And Ukai?” Takinoue eventually asks, when he notices that I’m finally getting a little bit more comfortable driving on the highway again. “How’s he?”

“Bad, I think.” I stare out in front of me, at the road that stretches far into the dim evening sky. “He is an emergency room, in need of surgeons’ care.” I pause before admitting, “I’m worried about him.”

Takinoue scoffs. “It’d be strange if you weren’t worried.”

“No shit.” I pause, before adding, “Also, last time I checked, you were standing on my porch in less than ten minutes for that same reason.”

“Touché.” He chuckles. One that’s not happy, but instead turns into a gloomy sigh after just seconds. I can feel Takinoue tense up beside me. “He’s still alive,” he whispers, but I don’t think he’s talking to me. Maybe he’s also holding back tears, trying not to freak out about this, under the guise of us being two grown up men; we shouldn’t cry. Not when we’re not given something properly to cry about.

“He’s still alive.”

Takinoue swallows audibly. “But still-“ His voice breaks when he carefully adds, “He’s still our best friend, though. And he got badly injured.”

Tears well up in my eyes. “He is.”

“We’re allowed to cry, right?”

I try, but my tears just start to flow down my cheeks. I nod. “We are.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Hitoka Yachi
Saturday, 17:56

I’ve always been a bit panicky, it’s in my nature. But I never even bothered to think about proper ways to relief my stress in a traumatizing situation like this. There’s so much tension on every muscle inside of me, they might rip. And it appears that the only way I can relief my nerves is through tears.

I feel kind of weak, having cried non-stop for over an hour by now.

It’s been going on for so long, I’m slowly running out of tears to cry. I wonder if Kiyoko’s also ran out of tears; her eyes are red and tired and there are dark circles underneath them. Today has been the first time I ever saw her cry, I didn’t know she would let it see. Then again, I can’t blame her; she told me what she saw while she was looking for the others. She told me how Kageyama was rushed to surgery, and how Daichi’s surgeons appeared to be making him ready for brain surgery, and that Nishinoya looked so sad even though he tried to hide it. I would’ve cried too if I were her.

I cried when she told me. I cried for quite awhile after that.

It’s maybe been fifteen minutes since my tears have started to dry up. The skin underneath my eyes feels raw and it probably looks red and puffy to others. I’m not the only one who looks that way, though; all the color has drained from Sugawara’s face and Asahi’s sniffles in between choked breaths. Tanaka’s still calling with his sister, he was already on the phone with her when Kiyoko and I had just arrived here twenty minutes or so ago. Yamaguchi just lowered his phone a couple of minutes ago, there are tears in his eyes. Even Takeda looks like he’s on the brink of a breakdown.

We all look like a completely wreck.

I feel Kiyoko’s hand comb through my hair again. It’s comforting enough that I feel like I might actually fall asleep. I could use the rest, after staying awake most of the night yesterday. But the universe doesn’t want me to sleep, apparently; as soon as I hear footsteps coming towards us, my nerves spike again. My eyes are wide open again, I’m wide awake. I look up to see, short woman in blue scrubs walks straight towards us.

“You’re here for Keishin Ukai?” she asks.

“We are.” Takeda’s the first one to reply, already rising to his feet. I feel like, while he’s worried about every single one of us even about the ones who are mildly injured like I am, he’s most concerned about Ukai. He walks towards her and asks, “How is he doing? Is he alive?”

The surgeon takes a slow breath, interlocking her fingers together. “He had a successful surgery.”

There’s one big united sigh of relief coming from all of us.

“But he is still weak. He had a collapsed lung, but we were able to successfully place a chest tube to let out any excess air.” She pauses and smiles carefully. “If everything goes well from here, he’s going to be back on his feet in just a couple of days.”

“Oh, thank God.” Takeda exhales, relieved.

I find myself breathing out some of my anxiety as well. It feels like there’s just a bit more weight off my shoulders, knowing that at least Ukai is alive.

“He’s not awake yet, but I think he would like some company when he does wake up,” the surgeon explains. She looks at all of us, as a group of seven and adds, “But I cannot allow any more than two with him at once. So-“ She doesn’t need to finish her sentence; we know we need to decide.

Takeda turns around to us. I can see his shoulders tense up when he asks who wants to go visit Ukai. No one has the guts to reply, or say a thing. No one, but Tanaka, who lowers his phone just a little and immediately says what we all think, “It’s a no-brainer, but Takeda should go for sure.”

A mild relief washes over Takeda. He thanks Tanaka under his breath.

“As for the other ones-“

“I don’t have to go in, per se.” Sugawara’s staring down at his lap. He looks so exhausted and not even happy; is he not relieved that our coach is still alive? Is he still mad at Ukai like he’s been after Ukai told us that he possibly is a reason of why we crashed? “I’m glad Ukai’s okay, but-“ Sugawara shakes his head and sighs. “I’d rather wait until there’s more news about Daichi, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah.” Asahi’s voice breaks a little when he tells us that he wants to wait for Nishinoya and news about Daichi as well. He apologizes, and promises that it’s not because he doesn’t care about Ukai’s well-being; he just feels like he shouldn’t leave now, not when two of his friends are still in a critical state. Which makes sense, honestly. And while Yamaguchi says nothing, I can see in his eyes that he agrees with Asahi; he’s also waiting for someone to return, when Tsukishima returns he might need a shoulder to cry on. It’s unlikely that he’ll want to go with Takeda.

As for Tanaka, he backs out as well. He promised his sister to stay on the phone with her until she arrives at the hospital. And he doesn’t want to hang up on her, he’d rather stay here.

That leaves me and Kiyoko.

“I’ll go.” Kiyoko’s voice is monotone, tired. She sounds like she doesn’t want to go, but rather like it’s her job to go there with Takeda. She has taken care of everyone, and she’s great at communicating everything we need to know about the state everyone’s in. I could never do that as well as her, and yet I cannot let her go with Takeda. Not when she’s got so much to worry about already; she’s got Nishinoya and Kageyama, who she saw being rushed to the operation room, not to even mention Daichi, her classmate and friend, probably being in the middle of a brain surgery as we speak. She’s probably worried about every single person in our team.

“No, I’ll go.” I place my hand on the grip of my crutches and push myself upright. It takes a little more effort since the nurse told me not to put any strain on my sprained ankle.

Kiyoko squints at me. “Are you sure?”

I nod resolutely. “Yep, I want to see how he’s doing.” I force a smile, even though the thought of possibly seeing my coach, a grown up, in a weak state sends my nerves through the roof. “I’ll let you all know how he’s doing, okay?” Before one of them can answer, or stop me for all I know, I take my first step towards Takeda. It’s a lot slower, moving around with the crutches unable to support on one of my feet, which makes the agonizing walk towards the recovery room even slower. More agonizing.

On our way there, the surgeon actually introduces herself as Dr Haiiro; she’s the general surgeon of the hospital and she’s inserted Ukai chest tube. She explains us a little about how they are going to go from here and asks us if we have any questions for her before we go inside. We don’t, though; we’re not even family, what are we supposed to ask?

“Alright,” she says with a small nod. “I do have one question for you.”

“Ask away.” Takeda sounds like he does not at all want to answer any questions anymore. He told us earlier that he’d been interviewed about the crash by someone when we had only just arrived at the hospital. I guess that makes that he’s now completely worn out and not in the mood for questions; still, he seems smart enough to know that a surgeon’s questions might be important.

“Does mister Ukai have any relatives or loved ones we can call?” she asks, her expression is desperate.

Takeda squints at her, confused. “Didn’t he have any emergency number in his phone?”

Dr Haiiro shakes her head. “Unfortunately, his phone broke during the crash. We were unable to contact anyone for him so far, but-“ She pauses, her eyes grow darker. “He’s probably going to need someone to support him, at least for the time that he’s recovering from his injuries. So, please, if you know anyone we could call for him?”

Takeda nods. “I don’t know about his parents, but I have his grandfather phone number.”

“Thank you.” Dr Haiiro gives a thankful nod. After that Takeda gives her Ukai’s grandfather’s contact details, so that he can be called sooner rather than later.

It all makes me a little anxious, though, hearing her talk about recovery time and injuries. I mean, I was well aware that people got hurt; I saw them all, including Ukai, decline. But still. Somehow, in these surroundings, with the words coming from a professional surgeon, it just hits me so much harder that some of us are actually in dire situations. That some of us need time to recover, and it might not be as small and speedy as me recovering from my sprained ankle. Instead, they might take weeks or even months to get back to where they were before the crash. And that makes me sad. And a little scared.

“Now-“ Takeda’s voice is a little shaky. I guess he’s also a shaken up because of these circumstances. “Can we see him?”

Dr Haiiro nods once. She lays her hand on the door handle and takes a deep breath. “Like I already mentioned, he is still asleep, but he will wake up anytime now.” After that, she opens the door.

The room is dimly lit and while the moon tries to shine through the curtains, they black fabric won’t allow it to light up the room. There is a light hanging from the ceiling, probably to make sure that not everything’s pitch black, but it has been turned to the lowest setting, allowing it to only give off a slight glow.

My hands become slightly slippery and sweaty as I clench them around the handles of my crutches. My heart beats so much faster than it usually does, as my eyes find Ukai in the dimly lit room.

His eyes are closed, his skin just as pale as it was when I last saw him, only this time his cheeks aren’t flushed with a feverish red. His chest rises and falls more steadily. I wish that seeing him, knowing he’s saved, would make me feel relieved, but it doesn’t. In contrary. It makes me feel terrified.

I stand frozen, just barely a few steps into the room, staring at Ukai as he lays in his hospital bed. His blanket is only halfway on top of him, causing a big gauze taped overtop of his chest to show. From it, comes a smaller tube which leads to something that’s mostly covered by his blankets. There’s also a tube reaching down Ukai’s throat, with thick blue and white tubes it’s attached to some sort of machine that makes a constant blowing sound. It gives me the chills.

This doesn’t even look like same man that’s been coaching my team for months already. Instead he looks sick, on the brink of death. I know that everyone looks sick when they just come out of surgery and are still under anesthetics, and I know we’ve been told that he’s going to be okay, but I just can’t shake the feeling. I can’t not feel worried. Not when I know that Ukai’s not the only one in this state; Hinata, Kageyama and Daichi might all be doing worse. They might not be okay.

I swallow thickly. Glancing at Takeda to see what I should be doing in a situation like this, but he’s just standing frozen as well; I have never even been in a hospital room before apart from the places where they take blood. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know what made me think that I could face my coach, a grown up man I haven’t even known for that long, be in such a weak state. I don’t know why-

It’s for Kiyoko. I remind myself. It’s so she doesn’t have to see any more of this.

I watch Takeda flinch at a sudden sound. Almost like someone gasping for air.

I swiftly turn my head towards the bed Ukai’s lying in.

Tears well up in my eyes when I watch Ukai blink, staring up at the ceiling. His chest jolts as a choking sound comes from his throat. I step back and shake my head; I don’t want to cry, but- it just freaks me out more than anything ever has done before. He looks like he’s dying.

Dr Haiiro rushes to his side, she hangs over him and encourages to breathe slowly. She promises him that things are going to be okay, while taking a hold of the tube that enters Ukai’s mouth. “Just try taking a few slow breaths for me,” she asks him. But he can’t breathe slowly. Instead he squeezes his eyes shut and draws a couple of jerky breaths.

I close my eyes. I cannot look. I cannot watch and stand by as my coach suffocates.

“You’re doing great,” Dr Haiiro encourages him. “Now hold the next breath for a second, okay?”

I take a slow breath myself and try to focus on holding it as well, instead of listening to the sound of Ukai choking. There’s a small gag, followed by Dr Haiiro calmly saying, “There you go, all done.”

There are no sounds anymore. No choking or gagging, just a low buzzing of some sort of machine.

I carefully open my eyes, to see that now, instead of the big tube that went all the way into Ukai mouth and throat, he’s now simply wearing one of those smaller tubes that you see in movies.

I watch from a distance as Dr Haiiro asks Ukai to do some small things like squeezing her hand, I can see that while he manages to do it right away it asks more energy than usual. After he’s done some more small tests, Dr Haiiro asks him, “You have some guests, do you want to sit upright?”

Ukai opens his mouth and tries to speak. His voice is extremely weak when he pushes out a small “yes”.

The head of his bed is raised just enough that he’s not lying completely flat anymore. His eyes look at us, tired and a little absent, as we make our way towards the side of his bed.

Dr Haiiro silently gestures that we can go and sit down beside him. Keep him company. “Feel free to call me or a nurse when you feel like something is wrong,” she tells us before leaving the room.

As we stand there beside his bed, I find myself clenching the grip of my crutches for comfort.

Takeda turns to me and nods towards the chair that’s standing right beside Ukai’s bed. “You can sit,” he tells me, probably because I look clumsy standing upright with my foot still raised from the floor. I actually don’t want to sit down, but I decide to do it anyway. Takeda sits down on the edge of the bed.

“Hey, Ukai,” Takeda whispers. His voice sounds a little trembling as well. “How are you feeling?”

Ukai looks at Takeda and, after a short silence, he clears his throat. It sounds rough and painful. A short puff sounds as he takes a quick breath. He opens his eyes and it visibly takes him effort to whisper, “Been better.” He chuckles almost silently before his eyes grow dark. “T-The others? H-How ar-“

I feel my stomach turn as his, normally fairly loud, voice fades into nothingness.

“They’re-“ Takeda hesitates, before choosing the words that are most true to reality. “Alive.”

Ukai’s expression relaxes a little. There’s almost no sound when he mumbles, “I’m glad.” His eyes look so tired, but unlike they have been for the previous day, his eyes are now calm and relieved. His shoulders aren’t tense anymore. Not long after that his blinks start lasting longer and longer. His breathing gets slower. Calmer. Sleepier.

Takeda lays his hand on Ukai’s arm. His voice is calm when he tells Ukai that it’s okay now, to fall asleep. That it’s okay to be tired. That he, after hours of staying wide awake, he is allowed to doze off, because no one will get hurt anymore. “Everyone’s going to be okay,” he promises. “You can sleep.”

There’s a faint smile on Ukai’s face as he dozes off.

I stare at him, or his chest mainly, reminding myself that he’s just napping. That it’s just the medication and the strain on his body that make him feel too tired to stay awake. I have to literally reset my mind after being in survival mode for an entire day; there are doctors all over, no one’s going to die.

I just hope that Takeda’s promise to Ukai’s true. I keep sitting there in silence, staring at Ukai’s chest rising and falling, listening to Takeda whispering calming words to encourage Ukai to finally catch some sleep. I tell myself that no one’s dead yet. As of now, we’re all okay. All in good hands.

But that doesn’t mean I am not completely and utterly terrified. I can’t shake the feeling that not all might be well in the end. And yet, I keep holding on tightly, to that new hope I’ve found. The hope that we will only get good news from now on.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Shouyou Hinata
Saturday, 18:30

It was late.

We were all tired when the crash happened.

I can still hear them arguing about getting lost as I tried not to give into my motion sickness. Hoping I wouldn’t get nausiated. I can still see how the road got darker and darker as we kept driving. I still feel the fear rising as the headlights showed me the sharp turn we would never make.

We’re going to die.

My throat closed up. My breathing sped up.

We need to stop.

I couldn’t speak up. I couldn’t get between their fighting. I couldn’t worsen Takeda’s frustration about being lost.

But I had to.

So I forced myself to make a sound. Say something hoping that it would make everything alright.

But it didn’t.

We were going to die.

Next thing I knew, we were flying.

Screeching tires.

Screaming voices.

Pain radiating through my stomach as we came to a jolting halt.

I gasp for air.

I open my eyes but the room around me is dark. I can barely even make out shapes in the darkness.

My chest falls and rises at a rapid rate as I look around me. There’s no one. Just darkness.

Where am I?

I try to remember the last thing that happened. But all I know is that we crashed with our bus, other than that it’s all a haze, everything blurring together in a disorganized story.

I lift my hand as much as I can, placing it on my stomach, where I was feeling a stabbing pain last thing I remember. There’s no pain anymore. Just numbness.

Am I dead?

Tears well up in my eyes; I cannot be dead. I cannot die. My team needs me. Sobs escape from my mouth as I try to scream and shout out, my voice fails me, though. I don’t have the strength.

A hand touches my shoulder, followed by a whispering voice telling me that it will all be okay. She shushes me, tells me that my surgery went amazing. That I did great.

We start moving. I can feel the motion in my stomach. Two doors open, the light’s bright in my eyes.

As soon as my eyes adjust to the brightness, I realize where I am. There’s no mistaking the white walls and the tiled floors; we’re at a hospital. That’s when it slowly comes back to me; trying to survive in the woods. Kageyama had a fever. We were saved. But he wouldn’t wake up. We were separated. They asked me about my pain. Such immense pain I rated it a nine, maybe it should’ve even been a ten. My conciousness got sucked away by the pain. Soon to be followed by darkness.

Followed by me waking up, here.

A small smile tucks at the corners of my mouth. We were saved.

I’m being brought to a different part of the hospital, through long hallways. I feel like we might never stop moving, but then I’m finally brought into a room. It’s small, and yet it has a cozy feeling to it, has three bright blue walls and the fourth looks like some sort of mountain site. It doesn’t look like any type of hospital room I’ve been before; usually they’re just small, sterile rooms with white walls.

This looks like it’s more meant for longer stays, with it having a counter, tap and even a door that probably leads to a bathroom. Something tells me I might not be leaving this place again tonight.

There’s a small click when my bed comes to a stop. A nurse walks out from behind me. She smiles at me politely before telling me, “How are you feeling?”

I take a deep breath, slowly open my mouth. “G-Goo-“ My voice is shaky and extremely hoarse. The nurse tells me to take it slow. I’m completely out of breath once I finally get the words “I’m good” out.

“That’s amazing then.” He smiles wide. He makes a small conversation with me, about whether I know who I am and where I am, while doing some tests. His fingers are extremely cold as they rest on my wrist, so are the materials he uses to check certain things like my heartbeat or breathing. “Your vitals are also great,” he promises me, before asking me if I have any questions.

I shrug; of course I do, I have thousands of them, but I don’t think she can answer most of them.

“You know what?” He rests her hand on my shoulder. “You give yourself a second to think, I’m going to see if I can get Dr Bushida for you. He’s our pediatric surgeon, he’ll want to know how you’re doing, and I’m sure he’ll be able to answer all your questions as soon as you have them.”

I nod once. “T-Thank you.” I smile politely, up to the very moment that he walks out of the door. I can just feel that I’m all alone now. There’s no one here. I don’t even know if anyone will visit me. I don’t even know if my family knows I’m here. I’m sure my team will come and see me, eventually, but do they even know that I’m alive? Are they all still alive?

I look around me, I feel like I’m searching for a sign. I don’t quite know what, to be honest. Just something; my phone, to help me contact people? A note written by my friends? I don’t know.

But all I find is a sterile room. There are the basics; a nightstand with a lamp, a few empty chairs that have been stacked up in the corner of the room and some things that are connected to my bed.

I look down at my lap, to see that I’m buried under quite a big amount of tubes and threads. I don’t know what most are for, all I know is that they’re all connected to me in some way. One of them traces back to my arm, where it goes into a vein, and another goes into my nose.

I play with the little tube that goes into my nose. I can feel it in my throat, which makes me a little nauseated. I’m not a big fan of the thought of being stabbed with needles and having tubes put inside of me, but then again, it doesn’t really hurt either, so I guess it’s okay.

My head snaps up and I lower my hand when the door suddenly opens. A tall man, who’s probably just a little older than Takeda, stands in the doorway. He wears a white coat overtop of his blue uniform.

His eyes smile along with his mouth when he says, “Hey there, Hinata.”

I squint at him and try to remember what the nurse told me. “Dr Bush?”

“Bushida.” He chuckles. “But you can just say Akihiko.”

“Ah.” I nod and smile. “Okay.”

“So, I was told you were feeling good?”

I nod and smile.

“I’m glad to hear so.” He grabs one of the chairs and sits down beside my bed. He leans with his elbows on his knees, he looks like a chill guy. “I bet you have loads of questions?”

I nod again.

“Ask away.”

There are so many questions, most of which have to do with what they did to miraculously make my pain disappear. I thought I’d never not feel pain again. But before I want to know any of that, I want him to tell me the following, “How are my friends? Are they okay?”

I hope he knows who my friends are, but when I see the expression on his face, I know; his expression is dark enough to tell me that he knows that we were the big group that came in with wailing ambulances. Akihiko takes a moment to think. Or maybe he’s hesitating if he should tell me. “Well, I can say with certainty that at least half of the people who came in along with you are sitting in the waiting room, they either aren’t injured or only have mild scrapes and bruises.”

I know exactly who he’s talking about. I could tell him exactly who’s in the waiting room; Takeda, Asahi, Sugawara, Yamaguchi, Tanaka, Yachi and Kiyoko. Maybe also Tsukishima, I’m not sure. But while I’m glad to know that they are alright, they’re not the ones I’m worried about.

“How about the others?”

“Your coach, Ukai I believe is his name, is recovering from surgery,” he tells me. “The same goes for Nishinoya. They both had a successful surgery just like you.” He closes his eyes to think. “So, that leaves two more friends of yours, am I right?”

I nod, encouraging him to continue; I need to know how Daichi’s doing. And Kageyama.

“They are both still in surgery.” His expression is serious when he adds, “We are doing everything we can for them.” He smiles at me, his voice lighter when he says, “Just like we did for you.”

I take a slow breath, nodding. I wish he could tell me more about how Kageyama and Daichi are doing; I need to know how Kageyama’s doing. But it’s no use to keep asking when he can’t let me know any more. So instead I ask him about what they did to fix the pain.

“I have to give most of the credits to pain meds, if I’m being honest.” He chuckles carefully. “So, when you feel like they are wearing off too much, you can use this little button-“ He points out a red button right behind my bed. “-to page a nurse. They’ll see what they can do to relief your pain.”

I tell him I’ll do that; probably sooner rather than later if the pain returns just as much as it used to be.

“As for the procedure,” he continues. “We noticed that you had a lot of blood in your abdomen, so we needed to see where it was coming from. That’s why we did a laparotomy. Do you know what that is?”

I shake my head.

I listen closely as he explains how they made a cut in my belly so that they could look inside. He proudly tells me about he heard his colleague managed to stop the bleeding perfectly. But then, all of a sudden, his expression grows a little darker. “But your organs have gone through a lot in the past day.”

I scoff. “Yeah, you tell me.” The stomach ache nearly killed me.

He doesn’t smile back. “Your kidneys got bruised when the bus crashed. We’re hoping we can reverse the damage done by giving it time to heal.” He pauses shortly. “This does mean you are going to have to stay here for a little while so we can keep a close eye on you and your kidneys.”

I glare at him. I don’t quite know what kidneys do besides making pee or something. I have all the questions for him; can I still pee? Do my parents know I’m here? What if my kidneys won’t work again?

But, he manages to answer it all before I even manage to ask him anything. “We have to make sure that you get enough fluid intake and that your blood pressure stays stable, like it is now, and then hopefully your kidneys will heal on their own in a couple of weeks. In the meantime, you’ll have to use this handy machine-“ He pats on a machine that’s standing beside my bed. “-called a dialysis to do the kidney’s work for you.”

My eyes look at the machine. From it come two tubes, which attaches to something underneath my shirt. A big type of Band Aid makes it kind of hard to see how they head into my skin. It doesn’t hurt, though. Nothing really hurts, but that might be because of the medication.

“Oh, and-“ Akihiko continues after a short silence. “-they have called your mother, and from what I understood, she’s on her way here now, so she can keep you company during your stay.”

It takes me a second to take in all the information, but when I do, all I can say is “thank you”. I have so many more questions, I think, but I’m too tired to form them into proper questions. I just want my mom to be here, so she can listen to what he’s got to say about what needs to happen now.

He nods and says that it’s no problem. When I don’t ask any questions anymore, he decides to get up. I don’t know if he’s serious when he says that he needs to go now and do some more things or whether he’s just saying it to make me feel less bad about giving the impression that I want him gone. I don’t want him gone, but then again, I’m also dead-tired.

“And you should probably go rest.”

I nod; he’s completely right.

“I, or one of my colleagues, be back in a little bit, to check on you. Okay?”

“Yep.” I smile. Right before the door closes, a sudden thought enters my mind. I shout, “Wait!”

Akihiko turns around and tilts his head. “Is something wrong?”

“No, just-“ I shake my head. “Can you ask them to bring my phone for me when they come to check on me next time? I really need it.”

“Oh? What for?”

I smile down at my lap. “I really badly want to thank the rival teams who saved our lives.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Kenma Kozume
Saturday, 19:00

Close your eyes for a moment.

Close them and imagine that your friends are lost. You don’t know where they are. You don’t know if you will ever know the answer to the million questions that linger in your mind.

They might not be okay.

Imagine dreaming about them showing up, laughing about being late to the training camp for some stupid reason. And now, imagine waking up and seeing that they’re not there, laughing. Imagine instead, that your worst nightmare has come true. Your friends are there and they’re alive, but they are not okay. Far from it. It’s your worst nightmare. Only this time, you can’t wake up from it.

And you know that, now. Because they are not missing anymore. Because you found them and got to sit first row as wailing sirens and shouting paramedics made it clear that they were anything but fine. They were not laughing. They were crying, which was soon followed by screams of pain, but they are nowhere close to laughing about what happened.

They will never be laughing about what happened, because that’s not what you do when your survive a huge accident. It’s obvious what the right response is to being a surviving victim. But what is the response when you’re just a bystander? Someone who saw the damage first hand, but still has little to no clue what led to something as tragic as this happening.

I don’t know.

I don’t know what else to do than sit upright in a room with the others who are in the same boat as me. All of us exhausted, yet wide awake, because keeping our eyes open seems like the better choice. Especially when each time I blink even a second to long, I see the images flashing back.

Hinata’s pale, plastery skin. The color draining from his face even more when Kageyama didn’t wake up to his shouting and shaking. Saying, “Come on, Kageyama. Wake up. We have been found!”.

The way his voice changed when he said that, I have never heard Hinata that scared. That emotional.

It shook me to my core. Making me feel like it was my fault that Hinata was this hurt.

Kuroo keeps telling me that I shouldn’t blame myself. Not because I told him I feel guilty, but because he can’t tell that I do. He was there, he was right beside me when I started worrying. He had faith that they would make it, that they just got held up on their way to Tokyo, but I felt it in my gut that things weren’t alright. I knew that something was up. And I didn’t act on it.

Not even after we called the police. Sure, I might’ve been among the people who found Karasuno camping out in the middle of nowhere after their bus got crashed, but I wasn’t even the one that suggested to start looking for them. It just felt wrong.

It still does.

I stare down at my screen. Refreshing my messages over and over again, hoping and praying for an update. Even if it’s just a quick sign, like Hinata being online on his phone for just a second, to show me he at least is still alive. Because I know nothing; even the people who were awake and talking when we found them could’ve simply collapsed on their way to the hospital for all I know.

“It’s going to be okay,” Kuroo tells me, even though that’s not a promise he can make; the team that’s been our team’s rival, and friend, for generations could be losing people for all we know. Really losing people. Some of them might actually be actively dying for all we know.

It sure looked like some of them were on the brink of death. There were stains of red in the grass, I don’t know whose blood it was, though, and most of them had bloodstains in their clothes as well. It looked like a crime-scene in a detective game; it didn’t look like things will ever be okay.

“Don’t say that.” I refresh again, but there’s no sign of life.

A sigh escapes from my mouth. My hands tremble with the anticipation; I need to know.

“I’m just trying-“ Kuroo shakes his head. His eyes look dark and there are still red splotches around his eyes; he’s trying not to show it too much, because as the captain of our team he feels like he should be strong, but he’s been crying. He, also, has seen his friends in this dire situation. The same goes for Bokuto and Akaashi, Oikawa, Iwaizumi and Kindaichi too; they saw it with their own eyes. They also supported their rivals, feeling how they were too weak to even stand on their own feet.

Sure, everyone is heartbroken and in shock; each and every one of our teammates.

But us?

We are the ones who found them. The ones who got to feel the dreadful and lost atmosphere; they had given up. And while we were their saviors for finding them, in that moment it didn’t feel like it. It still doesn’t feel like that, because we couldn’t do a damn thing. We just had to sit by our injured friends’ sides as we waited for Bokuto to run back to where we did have service connection. Minutes turned into half an hour, and more, and it seemed to last for literal years. We were just sitting there, unable to do anything but dry their tears as they wondered whether the paramedics would arrive in time. Wondering if they would all be able to retell the tragedy they’d gone through.

And now, we aren’t even capable to feel that sadness the rest of our teammates feel. It’s just fear and worry and such deep-rooted frustration about the fact that we didn’t start searching for them earlier.

I close my eyes, suppressing tears. “I know-“ Kuroo’s just trying to stay optimistic.

It’s the best thing to do.

Still, I exit my chat with Hinata and go to Google. With trembling fingers, I look it up again; whether there has been any news released about the accident that happened. I breathe in slowly as the results load, and even though everyone’s trying to remain in high spirits, I prepare for the worst when I click the very first article. It has just been uploaded half an hour or so ago and something about the hopeful title makes me feel uneasy. Because while “Missing Karasuno High Students Found After Over Seventeen Hours” might sound hopeful to most people, I know how they were found.

And how they were doing when we found them.

“I got something,” I mutter.

“What?” Kuroo squints at me.

“Tell us! What is it? A message? An update?” Bokuto immediately blurts out. He was dead-tired when we just got back at the side of the training camp after handing Karasuno over to the paramedics. But he’s drank some cups of coffee, I lost count, and has noticeably gained some energy. He sadly also got really outspoken about the nerves he was experiencing, which has fed everyone else’s anxiety as well.

“It’s an article.” My voice is a little shaky, because I’ve made the mistake of scanning over the article just now. It makes me nervous. So extremely nervous. “I-“ I swallow thickly. “Someone else read it.”

“Gimme!” Bokuto’s hand reaches towards me.

I avert my eyes from my screen, before handing my phone to Bokuto, who immediately starts reading the article out loud. “Eleven students from Karasuno High and their two coaches missing for over seventeen hours following a bus crash on their way from Miyagi Prefecture to Tokyo.”

I see Kuroo shift into a more comfortable position beside me, Akaashi crosses his legs and Oikawa hugs his legs against his chest. We all have blank expressions on our faces as we listen to Bokuto read about how and when the accident took place.

“According to the driver – Ittetsu Takeda, 29-“ Bokuto swallows audibly, because even though we all knew either Takeda or Ukai must’ve been driving, it’s not easy finding out about the one who drove them down a slope. Whether it be on accident or not; he’s still the cause that this all happened in the first place. “-the crash happened just before 23:00 on Friday evening. “This should have never been allowed to happened,” Takeda said. “But it was pitch black on the road. I wasn’t even aware that we were going to crash, until it was already too late.” He reads on, talking about how the bus was found. There’s not a single word spoken about who found them; our names weren’t written down, probably because Takeda decided to keep them private, just like he did with everyone else’s names. I’ll say that that’s a relief; on top of everything that’s going on with our friends, we can’t also deal with the press, but it will have to be revealed one day. Everyone will want to know who found Karasuno, because it sure as Hell wasn’t the police.

“As for now, all eleven students and both adults are alive and are being treated for their injuries. The driver calls all of them lucky to have even survived this long. He, along with a number of the students, had mild injuries and are thought to recover fully within the next couple of days.”

I almost allow a sigh of relief to leave my mouth, but I gulp down the sigh when Bokuto reads the next sentence, which is a lot less positive.

“However, five of the students and their volleyball coach have more serious, and even life-threatening, injuries.” There are tears in Bokuto’s eyes, it’s a miracle that he can still read the small characters.

I don’t know why I even expected that it would all be considered minor injuries; I mean, we saw the damage done. We all saw it with our own eyes, how at least half of them were hurt in some way. We all knew dead well that not all of them would magically be okay as soon as they got medical attention.

“Whether Takeda’s students and colleague are going to survive this, he doesn’t know. “But I believe I can speak for their family, friends, classmates- everyone, and I say that we are all hoping for these young people to be able to tell this tale themselves. Hope, for them to survive this and for their futures to be bright regardless of what happened that night.”.” Bokuto looks up from his phone, indicating that he has reached the end of the article. His voice is shaking when he says, “They can’t be serious.”

“About what?” Oikawa asks.

“I mean-“ Bokuto shakes his head.

“They have no clue whether everyone’s going to survive,” Kuroo finishes Bokuto’s sentence.

I swallow thickly, feeling how my hands start to tremble again. Hoping is no use in circumstances like these; crossed fingers and a wish upon a falling star won’t magically make someone whole again. Not when they’re in as bad a shape as Hinata, or Kageyama, Daichi, Nishinoya and Ukai. They won’t just be okay again, we already knew that. And yet, hearing it for real, makes it feel like the world’s collapsing.

Bokuto’s voice is the most silent it’s been all evening when he asks, “They’re saying all our effort was for nothing? That we weren’t there in time?” He doesn’t sound sad, and his tone along with his balling fists makes me believe that he’s furious, rather than heartbroken. Furious that he feels useless.

“Bokuto-“ Akaashi mutters, but before he can say anything, Bokuto places my phone of the floor and gets up. Out of the room, he storms. Akaashi lets out a sigh, but follows him right away.

Is Bokuto right? I stare down at my lap. Were we really too late?

I clench my fists and shake my head to myself, reminding me not to give up; we still haven’t gotten a proper update. No one has told us that someone died, so no one is going to die.

I grab my phone and enter the chat I have with Hinata. My fingers tremble when I type him a message.

“Are you okay?”

I stare down at my phone for seconds, minutes, maybe even an hour. I don’t know.

All I know is the relief I feel when Hinata’s little speech bubble jumps up at the bottom of our chat.

“Typing…”

I shift in my seat, trembling with anticipation.

“Typing…”

Tears blur my vision as soon as the message arrives, because these are the words I’ve been wanting to hear; the sign I just needed to have to be able to get some peace of mind.

“Yup! thanks to you and the guys, I am :)”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Miss Sawamura
Saturday, 22:36

I have no appetite for coffee. Not even close. And yet I keep sipping from the bitter liquid from the cheap cup that someone pushed in my hands a short while ago. I don’t really remember her face anymore, though, all I know is that she left the room soon after. This means she can’t be someone’s parent. Because I am certain that all mothers and fathers, and other family members that have made it to the hospital are gathered in this room. I mean, which parent wouldn’t be waiting, sitting on the edge of their seat, hoping that there’ll be more news soon. Good news.

I haven’t spoken to any of them, yet, I haven’t found the strength to talk about it or hear about their opinion. I do know why they are here, though. They got a call, just like I did. They were told that their loved one got hurt in the bus crash. They were told this, with no former explanation.

They all thought that their son or daughter, brother or sister, was at a training camp. And they were having too much fun, so they just forgot to text them. But then a doctor told them that isn’t the case.

Because Daichi wasn’t at the training camp he’d been looking forward to for days.

Instead he was so badly injured in a bus accident that I had to hear from a doctor that he was hurt. That he needed all the care they could give him, all they needed was my permission.

And now, hours later, I still don’t know if Daichi’s still alive.

None of the people in this room can tell me; his less hurt teammates are waiting for news and the loved ones of the few who are not in this room look like they’ve aged at least ten years in the last few hours. I wonder if I have such dark and wrinkly eyes, blotchy cheeks and a frown on my face.

I probably do.

I wouldn’t be a good mother if I wasn’t worried about Daichi. He’s my first baby, I can’t not be worried to death about what’s happening to him right now. He’s in surgery, I think, but no one has even come to inform me about how that is going. If my oldest son is still alive or if I’ll be send home to my other four kids with the news that their oldest brother is no longer there.

I know nothing.

And I feel like it’s slowly driving me crazy.

My nails tap up against the cup of coffee along to the beat of the ticking clock. I haven’t experienced this nervous habit since I was eighteen, exactly nine months after a drunk night with my boyfriend ended in a positive pregnancy test. It wasn’t the last time I spend hours at a hospital, fighting against the anxiety that thinking about the uncertain future gave me, but I thought it was the toughest so far.

Well, up to today. Because at least that night ended well, with me having the most beautiful, kindest baby boy. Today is worse. Much worse. Because, part of me feels like today might end with me losing the son that’s been beside me for literally half of my life so far.

I take a deep breath, trying to stop my anxiety from taking over; I promised myself I wouldn’t allow it to do that anymore. I made that promise eighteen years ago, so I’m not about to break it now.

My grip tightens around the cup as I try to keep my concentration with myself; I need to concentrate so I don’t lose control. I won’t cry; not when I know nothing that I should be crying about.

“Miss Sawamura.” A voice calls my name.

Shut up. I need to concentrate. I focus on drawing slow breaths, but this all falls to failure when the realization hits me; I’m in a hospital and some voice I don’t know called my name.

There’s news!

My head snaps up from my lap and I stare right at a doctor in blue scrubs. “Is miss Sawamura here?”

I urge myself to take a slow breath before rising to my feet. “Yes? Is there any news?” I swallow audibly. “Is my son okay?” I just need to know, I don’t even care anymore for the glares of the other parents and loved ones. They can be jealous, disappointed that the doctor’s not here with news about their sons, that’s fine by me. All I care about right now is my son. I just need to know if he’s okay.

“Miss Sawamura, I’m Dr Hitsujikai.” He gives me a short, careful bow, before adding, “I’m the surgeon who performed surgery on your son.” The skin around the doctor’s mouth crinkles a bit when he adds, “I indeed want to discuss your son’s state with you. How about we find a less crowded room?”

I nod once. “I would like that, yes.”

He returns my nod, before turning his back to me. He turns his back to me, expecting me to follow. He walks fast, but that’s fine by me; the faster we get to a quieter place, the faster I can hear how Daichi is doing. I follow him closely as we cross the room, towards a set of doors. He pushes through them and as soon as the doors close behind me, everything goes a lot more silent.

I only now realize how noisy the emergency waiting room was; beeping monitors, shouting people and wailing sirens every once in a while are now replaced by completely silence. It’s a little eerie, even.

“Here we are,” he announces when we eventually come to a halt in front of a white door just around the corner of the long hallway. He opens the door, which leads into a quiet office.

He gestures with his hand; I can go inside first. He follows me. His voice breaks the silence when he asks me if I would like a cup of water. I left my cup of coffee behind the waiting room, and I’m not really thirsty, but maybe something the hold would give me some peace of mind right now. I nod.

Dr Hitsujikai gets me some water from the tap behind the desk as I sit down on the wooden chair on the opposite side of the desk. As soon as he hands me the cup of water, I clench my hands around it. Immediately my trembling gets a little less. My fingers tap up against the plastic surface.

“My son-“ My own voice, though small, startles me. I draw a short breath. “How is my son doing?”

Dr Hitsujikai sits down on his chair. His eyes look down at his hands, which rest on top of the table, and he doesn’t say a thing while he lets his fingers interlock with each other.

The silence makes me nervous. It sets a certain tone that makes me uncertain about which news I might be getting from him. I need certainty. I need good or bad. But he’s giving me silence to breathe.

“Miss Sawamura,” he eventually says. His voice doesn’t give anything away, but his eyes do; carefully shifting down towards his hands. A index finger fiddling with the silver ring around his other finger. I recognize the small movements; he’s nervous for telling me. “I’m afraid I have bad news.”

My breath catches in my throat. Immediate anxiety washes over me.

Don’t let it take over. I remind myself when I feel like I’m about to cry. I’m a mother. I need to remain calm. Ask this doctor for all the details, make him tell me what’s going on and what I can do right now. “You can tell me.” I nod to myself; he must tell me. “I want to know what’s up with my son. Everything.”

Dr Hitsujikai nods in response. “As you know, Daichi was in a bus accident last night.”

“Yes.” They told me that over the phone. They told me that it happened so many hours ago, and all I could think was about how they couldn’t have called me earlier? Dr Hitsujikai now informs me, carefully, that Daichi and his team had only arrived at the hospital mere minutes before the contacted me; they didn’t know he was hurt, because they hadn’t been able to even call an ambulance.

“H-How-“ I shake my head. I always taught Daichi to call an ambulance if something like that happened; he should’ve done that. No, he would’ve done that without a doubt. So why? Why did it take them almost an entire day to get to the hospital, when he was in such a terrible state?

“From what we’ve been told by other crash victims, they had no service connection and were unable to contact us. Or anyone, for that matter,” he explains with a calm voice. “Seeing how they have camped out in the woods with little supplies, it’s a miracle that everyone, including your son, is still alive.”

Short, but strong, relief washes over me. Finally I am able to gasp for air, because at least he’s still alive.

“But-“

My relief comes to an abrupt stop.

“-during the crash, your son assumedly hit his head against something. The force caused his brain to start swelling. And with no professional medical care, the pressure on his brain kept building up,” Dr Hitsujikai explains. “He arrived at the hospital unconscious, and in an extremely weak state. As you were informed, we had to take him into surgery straight away to try and minimalize the damage.”

I nod slowly; the person that called me told me most of that. How they needed my approval before they could operate on him. Of course I gave them approval. What I didn’t know was why they were taking him into surgery; what injuries did he have? How likely was it that he’d survive?

They didn’t have time for my questions. Just time to tell me to get here as soon as possible.

Now I know. And now there’s time for questions. But I can’t manage to form the words.

After a short silence, Dr Hitsujikai adds, “The surgery was successful, and we managed to place an external ventricular drain to drain the excessive fluids in his brain and make the swelling go down.”

It all sounds complicated. Yet, it doesn’t sound like bad news; the surgery was successful and the swelling is going down. So, then why did he start the conversation by saying that there’s bad news?

That, I need to know.

So after a long silence, I finally gather the courage to speak my mind. Or rather, voice my worries, because it doesn’t feel like he’s telling me the whole truth; he still has to get to the “bad” part.

I close my eyes and tell myself that I can handle it, before whispering, “But that isn’t all, is it?”

Dr Hitsujikai takes a slow breath. He shakes his head. “We won’t know how much damage has been done until he wakes up,” he explains carefully. “We don’t know how long this will be, but seeing the state he was in when he arrived, it could take-“ Dr Hitsujikai pauses, sighing. “-another day or two, maybe more. We can’t tell, as of now.”

“A-And there’s nothing we- we-“ I stammer, fighting back tears. “T-There’s nothing we can do?”

Dr Hitsujikai shakes his head slowly. “All we can do is wait.”

My heart’s pounding rapidly inside of my chest when it hits me; the full reality of the situation. Where adrenaline previously numbed my rational thinking, I am now hyperaware of my son’s situation. I now know that he won’t be coming home with me tonight. I know that he’s hurt, very hurt. And I know that there’s still a chance that he might not be okay when he wakes up. If he wakes up.

Tears blur my vision.

But I promise myself I won’t cry, because right now, Daichi doesn’t need a mother sobbing over what could’ve been. Because that hasn’t happened; my worst nightmare hasn’t come true.

And it won’t. I won’t let that happen.

Instead, I will keep faith; he will wake up and he will be okay.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Tobio Kageyama
Sunday, 07:30

The world around me is dark. Brighter colors are mixed in the with black just enough that I can see them swirling before my eyes. Fire colored splotches, dancing. Taunting me.

I can feel them burning on my skin. Still.

In the far distance I hear something jingling. It’s hard to identify, but I hope it’s an ambulance.

My eyelids feel too heavy to open them, so I just listen to the faraway sounds. Trying to pinpoint for how much longer I have to keep the air in my chest; no breathing out, because with the heaviness on my chest, I might never breath in again. Wait until help is here. Don’t give into the pain.

My entire right side still hurts. It still burns and tingles like the fire is still eating away at me.

Yet, the pain in my left leg seems- different?

It’s not gone. Not completely anyway. Just barely numbed enough that I’m left with a faraway unpleasant sensation. I wonder when that happened. Because last thing I remembered-

What is the last thing I remember?

A chest, rising and falling. Slowly, not so steadily.

He was bleeding into his stomach. He wasn’t opening his eyes. His skin was pale.

My pain wasn’t as present. Until it was. Damn, it was so present all of a sudden. A strong pain, so agonizing, it was killing me. Burning me from the inside.

But Hinata, he was still doing worse. I can still hear him scream my name.

But why?

What’s wrong?

I need to see him.

I try to force my eyes to open. They are so heavy, the darkness won’t lift away.

Hinata’s calling for me!

My eyes rip open. The darkness is replaced by the brightest light. A round lamp with a metal rim can be seen. It looks so nearby, like someone’s shining with a light right into my eyes. It takes me some adjusting to see that it’s actually pretty far away; hanging from a ceiling.

I’m inside. I’m able to conclude after taking a short look around me for as much as I can.

White walls surround me on the left. On the right, it’s hard to see. There’s this pressure on the entire right side of my face. It causes a headache to pulse through my as I try to move my head.

But I know there’s something there; there’s the insistent beeping of something right next to my ear. At first I think it’s a machine of some sorts, but when I finally manage to gather the energy it takes to turn my head, I see where the sound must be coming from.

Miwa’s bent over her phone, the black hair that runs in the family has not even been combed. She’s wearing clothes that are too big for her, and maybe most worrying, she isn’t wearing the slightest smidge of make-up on her face. It’s uncommon for Miwa to be walking around with this just-out-of-bed-look. It’s also uncommon for her to be sitting beside me when I wake up in a room I am completely unfamiliar with, looking like she hasn’t slept in ages.

The whole situation is just mildly unsettling to put it lightly.

Another beep sounds from her phone. She starts typing with full speed, but each time her fingers hit the screen, her expression seems to grow more tired. And sadder, if I may say so.

“M-Miwa?” My voice sounds hoarse, nearly non-existent when I talk. At least there’s no pain.

Her eyes glance up from her phone. My sister’s eyes meet mine, growing a little larger.

Within a split-second, her fingers stop typing and her phone gets lowered down onto her lap.

“Hey-“ A small smile appears on her face. It’s a bit too forced to be real. “Sorry for waking you up.”

I want to tell her that it’s okay; if anything, the nightmares I’ve been having each time I close my eyes, are enough reason to want to thank her for waking me up. But before I can say anything, another sound from her phone draws her attention.

“Sorry.” She chuckles. It’s a sad chuckle. “I’ve been getting lots of ‘get well soon’ messages for you.”

I squint at her. How do people know I’m hurt?

She must notice my confusion, because she types something in on her phone. When she turns it to me, it takes a while before my vision focuses on the small characters on the screen. Eventually I am able to see it a bit better; at the top of the article a few words together read: “Missing Karasuno High Students Found After Over Seventeen Hours”.

A small laugh sounds from my throat, it almost sounds like a silent scoff; I made the news. After years of trying so hard to make the news with my skills as a setter, I made it because I was in an accident. “Well-“ I mutter, feeling the faint smile that tucks at my mouth. “It’s a start to becoming famous.”

I expect Miwa to congratulate me, or at least find it just as absurd and kind of funny, like I do. But she doesn’t. Instead she just stares down at her lap with this empty expression on her face.

It’s always been hard to read her mood, unless she’s mad. It’s a family-trait, I think.

Yet, even though I don’t know exactly what she is thinking or feeling, I do know that it’s not relief. Not the type of happiness someone’s supposed to feel when their younger brother survives an accident that could’ve easily killed him and all his teammates.

So why isn’t she happy? I wonder.

“Tobio?” She carefully glances up from her lap. All the color drains from her face when she lays eyes on me, so she immediately looks away again. I guess that makes sense; going from the immense pain I have felt since the moment fire touched my skin, I can’t imagine the sight of me looks pretty.

“Uh- yeah?” I wonder why she looks like she’s about to be sick.

She shakes her head. “I’m so sorry-“

I frown at her. “Sorry? For what?” I mutter.

She swallows audibly before opening her mouth. “They asked me if they were allowed to do it.“ She pauses, closing her eyes before mumbling, “And I gave them permission. It’s my fault that-“

Before she can finish her sentence, the door swings open. A short and sturdy woman in a white coat walks into the room. At first her steps are big and certain, like she has a plan for why she’s here, but as soon as she lays eyes on me she comes to a halt. Like all of her plans just disappear.

Her dark eyes take me in before eventually saying, “Well, good morning, Kageyama.” She takes a few steps towards me and comes to a halt once she’s at the foot of my bed. Here lays a chart on a small wooden table that’s hovering above the furthest end of the bed.

I glance at Miwa, wondering if she knows who this woman is. Although, that’s not really what I am curious about, since I can tell me the woman’s clothes and the setting we’re in that she’s probably a doctor. No, I’m more curious as to what Miwa was about to tell me; it’s her fault that- what?

But Miwa doesn’t talk, and even if she would’ve tried, she wouldn’t have gotten the chance to.

The woman instead quickly introduces herself as, indeed, a doctor; Dr Adachihara. “I was just about to check on you. See how you’re doing.” She pauses, before asking, “So, how are you feeling?”

I open my mouth, staring at her. “Uh-“ I just survived a car crash? I don’t know how my friends are doing? And I guess I’m alive? “Well-“ How does one react?  I wonder. “I’m fine?”

She squints at me, nodding in that way people do when they don’t quite believe you; my teammates do it a lot when they ask me if I studied for a certain school subject and I answer by saying “yes”. Often times they are right by doubting me, and maybe Dr Adachihara is also somewhat right. I don’t know yet, though, because I have no clue how to feel; all I know is that I am alive and that the pain I feel has gone from an agonizing and constant burning to a slight pinch every now and then.

So, I believe fine is the right answer.

“Do you know where you are, Kageyama?” she asks me after a while.

“At a hospital, I think.”

She nods and asks me if I have any clue how I got here. I explain to her that I don’t know exactly how we got here, since I don’t remember being awake when an ambulance arrived, but I do remember the crash. My breathing gets a little faster when I think back to it all; being stuck, everything was burning.

I couldn’t get my leg from between the chair and the dented side of the bus. The pain I felt was terrible. The way my bone poked through my skin; completely crushed by the force at which we crashed into a tree. I still feel the fire eating away at my skin. I’m never going to not remember.

“Fine”, my ass. So, I am terrible lying; even I don’t believe myself anymore now.

Miwa clears her throat, before looking up at Dr Adachihara. “What do all these questions have to with it?”  she asks Dr Adachihara. “He obviously remembers, and you’re just reminding him.”

Dr Adachihara closes her eyes shortly, taking a deep breath. “I wanted to check what he knew before I broke the news.” Her tone isn’t impolite, perse, but she doesn’t sound too pleased with Miwa either.

“News?” I mutter, glancing at Miwa before redirecting my attention to Dr Adachihara. “What news?”

“Well-“ Dr Adachihara takes a few steps closer. “During the crash you very severely broke your femur; the bone had tore its way through your skin, allowing bacteria to get in,” she explains. “That, together with the burns on the entire right side of your body, you were very prone to infection.” She pauses, shaking her head carefully before adding, “You were already in sepsis when you arrived.”

I stare at her, squinting. “Sepsis?” I maybe heard that during biology once. I don’t really remember what it means, though. But judging from the grim look on both Dr Adachihara and my sister’s face, it’s probably pretty serious.

She nods once. “Sepsis is your body’s reaction to a severe, untreated infection. It’s extremely dangerous and can lead to a lot of complications.” She takes a slow breath. “You were on the brink of death when you arrived, yesterday. I’m afraid we had to make some drastic choices to save your life, Kageyama.”

I glance at Miwa, but she doesn’t look back. She just stares at her lap. There are tears in her eyes.

But why? I don’t get what Dr Adachihara is talking about and I certainly don’t get my sister’s sadness; I don’t even feel any pain apart from some little stings here and there. It’s not like they failed to safe me, so whatever they did to safe me worked in the end. So, then why does everyone look so grim?

When I look back to Dr Adachihara with a questioning look on my face, she opens his mouth. “The sepsis had already caused a lot of damage to your tissue, causing it to die. We were able to get circulation back into your right leg and left hand, but-“ She pauses, for a short time, but it feels like ages. When the words do finally leave her mouth, I’m certain I must’ve understood her wrong.

“Y-You did what?” I stammer.

“We had to amputate your left leg and the fingers on your right hand in order to save your life.”

So, I didn’t mishear her. I shake my head, telling myself that this can’t be true; they can’t actually have done that. Right? They’re playing a joke on me. Because I can still feel it, both my legs, so they must still both be there.

Right?

My left hand reaches out to the blanket. I need to know. I need to know that they aren’t actually being serious about doing something so unbelievably stupid. I need to know-

With one quick movement I toss the blanket off myself. And when I do, my world collapses like a house of cards. Because it’s not a joke.

I stare at my left leg. Or, rather, what’s left of it, because almost all of it is completely gone. The smallest bit of white bandage peaks out from underneath my hospital gown.

Tears well up in my eyes as I stare at where my left leg should’ve been, where nothingness now remains. Just the mere sight of it makes me sick. The world seems to be swirling around me at full speed. Making me dizzy, like I’m about to faint. Until everything around me seems to disappear.

As I gape at the leg, I can feel my chest starting to move quicker. Irregular breaths move through my lungs, causing my entire body to jolt and shake. I can feel the sobs in my throat, waiting for me to cry.

But I’m not about to cry-

I blink away the tears, directing my eyes from the bandaged up stump towards my sister. “This-“ My voice is trembling. Not with sadness- “This is all your fault!” –but with rage.

Miwa’s tear-filled eyes stare back at me. “I’m sorry-“

“Sorry? You’re sorry!?” I snap. “Sorry is not going to bring back my leg is it? Sorry isn’t going to make me normal again!” Tears well up in my eyes when I think about it all. “Because of you I will never become a professional setter. You know that has always been my dream. And still-“ I swallow, trying to get the lump in my throat to disappear. “-you told them they could saw off my fingers? My leg?” My left hand’s nails dig into my skin as I try to lower down my rage. But there’s no stopping my anger. Why would I even stop it? To protect her from the words that want to come out?

No. She doesn’t need protection. Not when she made this decision like it’s hers to make; it’s not. It’s my body. It’s my life. And she ruined it.

“What made you think you could decide that for me?” I hiss through clenched teeth. “You are not my mother so you literally have nothing to say about me at all!”

Her eyes stare at me for a second. A long second.

Tears well up in her eyes. Never have I seen Miwa cry, but this time, a tear trails down her cheek as she as she turns away from me. She gets up from the chair and runs to the door. A careful sob is the last thing I hear before the door slams shut behind her.

Leaving me behind in the room with the white walls. With a whirlwind of emotions inside of me; rage, sadness, fear. I want to run from it, but I can’t move. I won’t ever be able to run away from the darkness that’s creeping up on me anymore.

Instead, it’s more like the darkness took away a part of me.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Shouyou Hinata
Sunday, 07:55

With all my strength, and a little help of a bars that stretch along the walls, I manage to keep my body upright as I slowly make my way through the halways. By carefully shuffling my feet forward, step my step, I’ve managed to make it all the way from my room to the door all the way down the hall.

It’s tough and every now and then I feel a small sting where they cut into my stomach, but the painkillers make it pretty bearable. Being able to lie in a warm bed and having a pretty wallpainting to look at is fun for a little while, but after being wide awake all night, I have gotten a bit tired of it.

Hence why I couldn’t wait any longer; as soon as they told me they wanted me out of bed and walking as soon as possible, I took the opportunity to explore the entire pediatric department together with one of nurses. She brought me back to my room after just fifteen minutes, though.

I rested for a bit, but honestly, I just can’t sleep here. I need my own, nice pillow, but that kind of went up in flames when the bus caught on fire. When mom got here, she promised me she would get me a new one as soon as she could. Though, that might take a while, since mom apparantly doesn’t get how it is to be unable to sleep without a proper pillow; when I left my room again, a short while ago, she was sleeping in the most uncomfortable-looking chair.

After walking for a short while, I feel like I could use a nap too. My legs are starting to ache, it feels like it’s the first time I have walked in ages, while I was in the best shape I have ever been just two days ago. At the door at the end of the hallway there’s a sign saying “lounge”, reaching the lounge is my objective for now. I won’t allow myself take a break until I have reached it.

My body might wine and ache, but I push on. Telling me how I’ve come so far; just a few more steps.

Relief washes over me when I finally push through the door and see two white benches just a few steps away from the door. I might be completely out of breath and sweat traces down my forehead, but at least I made it. At least I didn’t give up, and that’s the point.

Because what would life be if I would just give up before trying to climb the mountain, right?

My eyes fall on a girl with pitch black hair, who’s sitting on one of the couches with her legs curled up against her chest. She carefully glances in my direction when I stumble towards the couch closest to me. When I see how tearstained her cheeks are, I wonder if she has given up. She sure looks the part.

“Hey,” I greet her once I’ve finally been able to catch my breath again. “What’s wrong?”

She looks up at me. Her eyebrows are scrunched up in a slight frown, making her look somewhere in between frustrated and confused. Her dark blue eyes squint at me.

It sends a familiar shiver down my spine.

I wonder if I asked something wrong. Maybe it’s impolite to ask people “what’s wrong” in a hospital? I didn’t mean it in a mean way, I just wanted to ask her why she was crying. Maybe I could help?

She clears her throat, opens her mouth and I brace myself for a mean comment for some reason. But there’s no snapping, no mean words, just her voice asking, “You’re Hinata, right?”

“Y-Yes.” I stare at her. “How do you know that?”

I try to figure out how she knows me, when I don’t think I have ever seen her. Though she does look oddly familiar. Maybe she’s someone I’m supposed to know from kindergarten, even though she looks at least six or seven years older than me. Or she could be a distant family member I have never seen or heard from. But that also doesn’t feel right.

Her expression softens. “I’m Tobio’s older sister, Miwa. I don’t know if he ever told you I even exist.” He has mentioned having an older sister once or twice, I think. “But anyway, he mentions you sometimes-“ She pauses before instead saying, “-well, actually he mentions you pretty often. You’re pretty good friends, right?”

“Yeah, we are!” I squeak, though I am surprised that Kageyama sees me that way; he tends to snap at and say me things to me so often that I sometimes kind of forget that some moments are really fun. We’re good teammates, and especially considering how he helped me through the entire crash, I really do consider him to be one of my best friends. “How is he doing, by the way? I’ve been wanting to see him, but my nurse won’t tell me where his room is.”

Her shoulders tense up and she doesn’t say much more than, “That’s probably because he’s in intensive care. Only one person at a time allowed and stuff-“ Her voice trails off and her expression saddens. I can tell that she has to try hard to look genuinely interested when she asks, “You were also in the crash, right? So how are you doing?” It’s clearly just a change of subject, I think.

“Yup, I was-“ I really defenitely was; front row seat, watching with wide eyes as we rolled down the slope at full speed. “They say my kidney has a bruise or something? So, I’ve been better, but I’m moving and walking again.” I wave with my hand and tell her that if I keep feeling like I feel now, I’ll be home in no time. That’s not what the doctors told me, though.

“And you’re allowed to walk around again?”

I nod happily. “Yeah! I need to start moving as soon as possible, so- I think I am?” That’s also not quite what they told me; they said at least someone needs to be with me at all time. But mom’s sleeping and the nurses are too busy, and while I’m sure Natsu would’ve loved to take walks with me, mom decided it was best to leave her home with a nanny instead of taking her to see her badly hurt, older brother. “Anyway,” I continue after a while. “Intensive care sounds bad. So, how is Kageyama doing?”

Miwa’s expression turns dark in just a matter of seconds.

My heart skips a beat. “He didn’t-“ I swallow thickly. “You know, d-die, right?”

“No no! No, he’s still alive.” Miwa lets out a sigh and shakes her head. “He’s alive.”

“But?”

I can see hesitation on her face, like she doesn’t want to tell me. But I have to know; Kageyama and I, we looked over each other when the both of us were on the brink of death. He made sure to ask me, every once in a while, how my stomach was feeling and he was the one that made me take a painkiller when it got too bad. And I watched over him when he slipped into feverish dreams, screaming out in pain and terror. I feel like, after going through that together, I deserve to know how he’s doing.

“I made a wrong choice,” she whispers, staring down at her lap. “I mean, how was I supposed to make the right choice? Tobio’s right; I shouldn’t have been allowed to.” She shakes her head, tears begin to well up in her eyes. “I’m just twenty-three, not even a full adult; I’m not supposed to have full control of whether doctors should do everything to safe my kid-brother’s life, even if I know it will ruin it.”

I frown at her; it makes no sense. “I’m sure you didn’t ruin his life; Kageyama can be dramatic like that.”

“I gave doctors permission to cut off his leg if that was what it took to safe him.” She scoffs and a tear rolls down her cheek. “They cut off his leg, Hinata. He is not being dramatic this time.”

I gape at her, large eyes and open mouth. My chest goes up and down at an abnormal pace when I think about how this is, indeed, something that would make Kageyama explode. It would ruin him and he probably wouldn’t ever forgive anyone; not her, not the doctors, but also not me. I am the one who saw  the crash happening, one of the few people who was awake at the time. I saw that we were heading off the road and I didn’t do anything to stop it.

And now, because of that Kageyama lost a leg?

“That’s ridiculous,” I whisper under my breath. “I mean, they should’ve known he plays volleyball, so they didn’t actually do that.” A nervous chuckle comes from my throat “Right?”

Miwa’s silence is enough to answer my question.

“Oh God.” My eyes shift around the room as I try to imagine what Kageyama must be going through now. But I can’t even think about the agony he must be feeling, the fear and grief. My pain and my injuries are nothing compared to what he’s dealing with.

My voice trembles when I ask her if he’s okay. If he’s dealing with it?

She shrugs. “Knowing Tobio, if he’s trying to deal with it, probably not in the best way.” A sigh sounds out of Miwa’s mouth as she rubs in her eyes. “I just wish he would let me be there for him, support him, especially now that he needs someone to cheer him on so badly. But-“

“Let me.”

Her eyes turn to me. “What?”

“Let me be there for him,” I tell her with determination in my voice. “Let me cheer him on.”

It takes Miwa a second to realize what I am saying, probably because no one has ever volenteered to be in Kageyama corner, helping him and cheering him on from the sideslines; her brother has always been kind of a single-player. But he has me, now, so I don’t see why I wouldn’t actually want to be there when he needs me.

There’s this small squint, like she doesn’t fully trust me. “You really want that?” Her voice seems uncertain. Maybe even confused.

“Yes?”

“But not because you feel like you have to do it?” she asks. “Like, you don’t feel obliged to?”

“Not at all!” I shake my head. “Kageyama’s my friend; I want to be there for him!”

She gapes at me. At first she simply looks confused, but there’s this small smile on her face when she eventually nods. “I think he would like that.”

As soon as I get her approval, I get up from the couch. At first I stand up so fast that it makes me a little lightheaded, but that won’t stop me; I am going to go to the intensive care unit and be a good friend for Kageyama. I take one step before realizing. “Uh- say, where is the ICU?”

-○-

The severity of the entire situation just about hits me when I’m standing in front of a door with the letters “ICU” written on them. For the first time since the accident, my adrenaline drops and instead of energetic and not-scared, I suddenly feel extremely nervous.

It’s not going to be like usual. It’s not even going to be like yesterday. It’s a completely different situation. One where Kageyama might not want me by his side anymore.

Which scares me more than I initially thought it would.

I take a slow deep breath before pushing the door open. To, I think, my surprise, I’m not greeted with a “hello” or “whoa Hinata, nice to see you’re still alive”; instead a pillow immediately gets thrown at me from across the room, followed by a groggy voice shouting, “Just leave me the Hell alone, Miwa!”

I don’t manage to dodge the pillow, so it just hits me right in the face at full force. I would’ve lost my footing if I hadn’t still been holding on to the door handle.

“Whoa-“ I whisper as I look down at the pillow that just hit me, now laying on the floor in front of my feet. No wonder I couldn’t sleep tonight. These pillows are rock hard.

Next I look up, and in the direction where the pillow came from. My stomach instantly starts aching again when I see the sight before me; not because I just started bleeding again, but because of nerves.

I thought I had seen Kageyama at his worse when he was lying in the grass with a bloody bandage around his leg and burns all over the right side of his body. I thought seeing him slip into feverish dreams and having to hear him mutter complete nonsense for hours in a row was the worst he’d ever get. But upon seeing him right now, I have decided that I was wrong; this is the worst he’s ever been.

The blanket has been thrown off him, draping down onto the floor, leaving his legs exposed. Miwa was right; his left leg, indeed, is completely missing. Saying that it looks scary feels like an understatement.

The right side of his body is, just like what’s left of his left leg, covered in bandage. I must say that I’m glad about that, because the burns on his body looked pretty nasty last time I saw them. Here and there, a small strip of burned, swollen skin peeks out from underneath his bandages, showing me how his entire right side must be looking as of now.

His right hand has been packed in even more bandage and rests in a sling. Chills run down my spine when I remember the way his fingers had gone completely black near the end of yesterday. I wonder if the doctors managed to fix that, otherwise I doubt it’ll be painless the next time he’ll play volleyball.

Even his face has been covered in bandage for the most part. Only his mouth and his left eye peek out from underneath the bandages. The skin around his eye is red and still a little wet, which means he was probably still crying when I arrived here. It’s weird seeing Kageyama cry, but at the same time, it makes sense; I would cry too.

When he looks up at me, his eye’s dark and stern at first, but when he sees that it’s me, standing in the doorway, his expression softens. He glances away and, though without any sound, it shows that he’s sorry about yelling at me. He bites the inside of his cheek before whispering, “Could you give me some time alone?“ His voice breaks. “Please.”

I stare at him, at the way his body is trembling. Not with anger, but with complete and utter fear.

He’s terrified.

And he has a right to be; I’d be terrified too. And maybe, if I were in his place, it’d feel like I wanted to be alone, because I’d also need some time to process what just had happened. But I’m not in his place; I am in my place. And I know that leaving him all alone right now, with only silence and loneliness, and no one to comfort him- it’s the worst choice I could possibly make.

In moments like these, where all seems lost, you need someone by your side.

So, instead of abiding to his wishes, I shake my head. “No.”

His expression doesn’t chance to anger like it usually does when I disobey him. He just stares at me with the same sad and dark expression as he asks, “What?”

“I’m not leaving.” I take another step into his room, and another. “I’m staying by your side.” Just like that I carefully walk towards him, making sure not to fall or to stumble. And when I reach the chair that’s standing beside his bed, I sit down and announce, “And I am not going to leave.”

“Well, you do whatever, it’s not like I care.” His tone is slightly frustrated and, at a first glance, he still looks just as hopeless and defeated as he did when I just walked in. But I can see that there’s this small change in the way his eyes look at me. There’s a little light in them that wasn’t there before.

A little light that tells me, he’s secretly really glad to have a friend to stand by him as he’s healing.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Koushi Sugawara
Sunday, 10:07

The news came earlier this morning; everyone had survived.

I hoped that they would let us go upstairs and see our friends now, but with parents and other family members waiting to go and see everyone, we weren’t allowed to go to them yet. Part of me understands it; if it would’ve been me, and it was bad enough that my father cared, he would’ve wanted to see me before my whole team of friends barged into the room.

But the other part of me. Well- let’s say that I, very deep down, feel the rage that I got from my dad. The impatience is getting more overwhelming with every hour that passes, because I just want to know how Daichi is doing. Before we got there, I sat by his side and watched over him as he laid there unconscious, for literal hours. I promised him I would be beside him, no matter what, but as soon as the ambulance arrived I was torn away from his side.

I haven’t heard about him, or been able to see him, ever since. All I know is that he’s still alive, but that’s only because one of the doctors came to tell us exactly that this morning. There were no other details, just “everyone you came here with is alive” and just like that, all the family that was waiting could go and see their son, brother or grandson. But we – Asahi, Yamaguchi Tanaka, Kiyoko, Yachi and me – were forced to transfer to another waiting room. Only to wait another four and god-knows-how-many-more hours for someone to come and get us, so we can finally see our friends.

Even Takeda, who previously was allowed to visit Ukai, came back to the waiting room as soon as Ukai’s other friends arrived. And Tsukishima was brought to the waiting room by one of the doctors just a little past midnight. From that moment on, we were sitting here together. Waiting together with Saeko, who arrived first of all family members, and Asahi’s parents since they rushed over here as soon as they heard about what had happened.

Asahi and Yamaguchi are asleep, have been for a couple of hours, so are Asahi’s parents. Tsukishima’s also had his eyes closed ever since he got here, but I’m not sure if he’s asleep or just resting his eyes.

I think most of us would kill to sleep right now. I would, at least. But my mind has been running wild ever since we got here; how’s Daichi doing and why are they not letting me see him? How mad is dad going to be when I get home? How many more hours, days or weeks do I have to stay here? These are all questions that bother me, keeping me wide awake.

I can tell that Yachi, Kiyoko and Tanaka are also dead-tired, but they are trying to keep themselves distracted by the card game that Saeko had in her bag. Apparently she knows how boring it can be to wait somewhere for hours, because she claims that she always has at least one game on her. According to Tanaka, it’s a different game each week, so she doesn’t get bored with one single game.

I can hear them laughing as they form inappropriate sentences, often using English terms I’m kind of glad I have no clue what they mean. I’m glad, but also jealous, that they can still laugh after all that happened. It’s not something Takeda or I can say; we’re both sitting here in silence, staring at something- or nothing. We’re just lost in our thoughts, I guess.

We have been lost in them for so long that it startles me when Takeda’s voice suddenly says something. I don’t understand him right away, probably because he speaks especially mumbly when he’s tired, but also because my brain doesn’t immediately register that someone other than Tanaka, Yachi, Kiyoko or Saeko is speaking.

I look up from my lap. My eyes feel dry, from staring into space for too long, and have a hard time focusing on Takeda at first. When I do see a little better, I can see that there are large black rims around his eyes. If that didn’t proof his exhaustion enough, his entire expression and posture scream “sleep deprived” if anything. His mouth moves, but I can barely hear anything but a mutter.

I frown before telling him I can’t hear him, so if he’s talking to us, he should speak louder and clearer.

He looks up at me and nods once. He looks a little crazy, or well, off; all twitchy from the caffeine.

I can’t blame him. Every one of us who’s still awake is either running on an abnormal amount of coffee or Cola, or an overdose of adrenaline. The latter goes for me, and I’m certain that when my adrenaline’s done spiking, I will fall apart; tears, screaming, probably soon followed by a deep sleep.

Takeda takes a deep breath before repeating himself. “We’re going to have to leave, at some point.”

These words grab the attention of everyone awake. Five pairs of eyes are glued to his lips.

“Huh?” Tanaka whispers, shaking his head. “But they can’t do that, right? They can’t just throw us out?”

I know that Tanaka’s wrong; they can actually do that. We’re keeping room to ourselves that is actually a waiting room for patients and their family. We’re just camping out here. And while that’s because we want to know how our friends are doing for the most part, it’s also partially because we have nowhere to go. Before, we didn’t know how everyone was doing, but now we do. We have no news to be waiting for, so Takeda’s right; sooner rather than later, they probably are going to ask us to leave.

Takeda shakes his head in response to Tanaka’s words. “They may have to stay here for days, or even weeks, we can’t stay here for that long..”

He’s right. We don’t even know for how much longer our friends will be hospitalized here.

“But-“ he continues. “-you shouldn’t want to stay here, even if we could.”

I frown; of course I want to stay here. I made Daichi a promise. I’m not just going to leave at own will.

“After tomorrow, you will start missing school. You are going to get behind.”

“So what?”

“These are the last weeks of your final year, Sugawara, you can’t just-“

“So what?” I repeat myself, louder this time. I hear Asahi moaning right beside me as my volume wakes him from his sleep. “I am not going back to Miyagi when my friends-“ especially Daichi. “-are here!”

Tanaka tries to hush me, telling me that I don’t have to shout. But when he turns to Takeda, he does admit that he would like to stay a bit longer. “Maybe just for the night, at a hotel or something?”

“I’m not leaving, I couldn’t care less about school,” I grumble under my breath, thinking they didn’t hear me. Apparantly Takeda did hear me because he looks disappointed when he sighs. His eyes are tired when he tells me that he, as my teacher, can’t let that happen.

“You? Can’t let me miss school?” I scoff, talking much louder and clearly this time. Anger rises in my chest. “Well, maybe you should’ve- you should’ve-“ I want to hold it back. I cannot say these words. God, I want to hold it back so badly.

But I simply can’t.

“Then maybe you should’ve thought about that before you drove our bus off a cliff!”

The words blurt out of my mouth and even though I immediately wrap my hands in front of my mouth, I can’t put them back. I cannot turn back time.

I am just like him.

I’ve always told myself the opposite; each time I walked past a mirror I told myself that, while my outside might look a lot like my old man’s, at least on the inside I was more like my mother. I was wrong, though, I’m my father; inside and out.

Takeda shakes his head, his eyes shocked and broken. But maybe the worst about his expression is the way he doesn’t look like he blames me.

I get up from my chair, I can’t stand the look in his eyes.

Asahi calls my name. I don’t listen to him. I need some time alone, before I say another mean thing.

Tears well up in my eyes as I storm out of the waiting room with large, loud steps. I’m close to running as I make my way through hallways, towards the nearest bathroom. The anger inside of me builds up, making me feel warm and freezing cold at the same time.

As soon as I’m alone, and no one can possibly be hurt, I throw my fist against the wall. It hurts, and not just a little, as the tiled bathroom walls collides with my skin. But what hurts even more is the knowledge that, after years of denying this fact, I may be more like my father that I’d like to admit.

-○-

The door of the bathroom stall doesn’t open until my anger has settled and my tears have dried completely. I don’t want to face anyone, actually, but I can’t simply stay away from them.

I have to go back and apologize. Of course, my emotions about what happened are mixed, but I don’t actually believe that Takeda’s to blame. It wasn’t like he meant to drive us off a slope, just like I didn’t mean to verbally attack him just now.

As I get closer to the waiting room, I start to hear a conversation going on inside. First I hear Takeda’s voice, apologizing about something. I hear my name. I wonder why they are talking about me; maybe I ran into someone on my way to the bathroom. I think I would remember that, though.

Curious as to what’s going on, I peek around the corner.

In the waiting room, everyone’s now awake. They’re all looking at a woman with dark brown hair, whose back is turned towards me. At first I don’t think it’s anyone I know, but when she speaks, I recognize her voice right away.

“Miss Sawamura?” I ask, hoping that I didn’t mistake someone else for her.

When she turns around, I know I’m right. Not that I thought I would mistake someone else for being the mother of my best friend, whom I’ve known for three years. Her face looks more tired than it usually does, and unlike most times I’ve been over to Daichi’s house, there’s no smile on her face this time. Instead, there’s an unsettling darkness in her eyes.

"Speak of the devil," Tanaka's voice sounds from the other side of the waiting room.

I don't respond to him, though. All my attention is fixated on Miss Sawamura, my heart racing as I eagerly await the news she's got to tell. Or well, I take that is why she's here, at least.

When she doesn't say anything, but instead just looks at me with this sad expression, I decide I'll have to ask for it myself. I take a deep breath, gathering the courage to ask, "How's Daichi doing?" Even though I'm not sure if I really want to know the answer.

It's more like I have to know.

"He's been better." She lets out a nervous chuckle. "At least he's alive, am I right?"

Her face smiles.

Her eyes don't.

"Yeah." It feels like a lie. Of course I am happy that he's alive, that is no lie, but I obviously would've preferred to hear her say that he's alright. Awake and back on his feet again.

Going from the darkness in her eyes, though, that's not the case.

The both of us are silent for a while, probably because there are no words in a situation like this. I can’t comfort her, because all I can say is that I’ve seen him get worse with every minute that passed. And all she can tell me, to “comfort” me, is that he survived. For now. And that doesn’t give me much comfort.

“So-“ I whisper after a while. “Why are you here?” I make sure that it doesn’t sound like I want her to leave, because I think it is nice that she’s here to give us an update. I’m just curious. “Why aren’t you with Daichi?” Because I know I would be sitting by his bed fulltime if I was allowed to.

“They’re doing some tests, I was allowed to be there but-“ Her voice trails off, all the color drains from her face. She shakes her head, urging herself back to reality. “So, I thought I would give his team an update on how he’s doing.” She carefully smiles at the group, before looking back at me. “And-“

And?

“I was wondering if you wanted to see him?” she asks me, like there’s any use in asking.

Every fiber of my body is screaming “yes!”, but I know exactly what me being there would mean for her. “But there can only be one person in the ICU, right?” It’s a strict rule; someone in the ICU can have two different visitors a day, and only one at a time. Something tells me that rule also goes for Daichi.

Miss Sawamura’s expression says enough; I’m right.

“I wanted to-“ She takes second to think. “-eat something and call Daichi’s siblings, anyway.”

It sounds like a lie. Or well, I’m actually certain that it’s a lie. But I can also see certainty in her eyes; she wants me to be able to go in and see him. Probably because she knows that I stuck with him the entire time, even when I felt like he might never wake up, I kept a close eye on him the entire time.

Of course she doesn’t literally know this, but she can tell, I think.

“Is that alright with you, sir?” she asks Takeda, probably because she knows that he’s still duty of keeping an eye out for us, at least until our parents are here. Little does he know that my father is not going to come and pick me up. Unlike Asahi’s parents, my father couldn’t care less; I wasn’t hurt and I am fully capable of finding my way back home on my own. The only thing he cares about is that I won’t be home to cook dinner for my brother this evening, which means he can’t work overtime like he usually does. But neither Takeda nor Miss Sawamura should have to worry about that.

It’s no surprise that Takeda tells her that I can go and see him, as long as I don’t just disappear.

“I won’t,” I promise Takeda.

“Alright then,” Miss Sawamura says. “Thank you for wanting to cover for me.” At first she smiles, but this soon turns into nervousness when she says that she will show me where his room is and promises that she won’t be long. We both know why; she’s just doing this because she wants me to be able to see him for a little bit. Not because she needs the time away from him.

I’m ready to start leaving already, that’s how eager I am to see Daichi. But before I follow Miss Sawamura out of the waiting room, I turn to Takeda. My voice is small, but should be loud enough for him to hear, when I whisper my apology. “I didn’t mean to snap.”

Takeda’s eyes ease up. “I know.” He smiles a sad smile. “It’s okay.”

I smile back, even though I know deep down that it’s not; I shouldn’t have let my anger take over.

But there’s no use in forcing Takeda to admit that my words hurt him, even though I can see it in his eyes. So, instead of lingering in the doorway even longer, I follow Miss Sawamura up the stairs and to the hallway that belongs to the ICU.

I mark every step in my head, knowing that I’ll probably want to visit more than this once.

“Thank you,” I whisper as we stand in front of the door to the ICU room Daichi’s in.

Miss Sawamura tells me it’s no problem, before giving my shoulder an encouraging squeeze. Before we part ways, she wishes me good luck. I’m probably going to need it, because even before I open the door, I feel a little lightheaded because of the circumstances. It just feels wrong.

As soon as I go inside, this off feeling gets even more overwhelming. The room is bright and doesn’t leave anything up to my imagination anymore; all my questions are answered.

The answer: Daichi is not okay.

In the middle of the room stands one bed. It looks small compared to the massive amount of machines surrounding it. Machines displaying heartbeats, a large ventilator filling the room with a constant buzzing, beeping noises and flickering lights coming from at least half of them and many more things I have never even seen before in my life.

It looks like something out of a science fiction movie.

I take a slow breath, trying to make the lump in my throat disappear. My steps are slow, and small, as I make my way over to the bed. There’s a little voice in my head, screaming to get out of here, but I made Daichi a promise. I would be with him. I wouldn’t let him alone. I will surpass my fears and-

I almost fall over when another wave of lightheadedness washes over me. My head it spinning and nausea sets up in my stomach once I lay eyes on Daichi. If I thought he looked bad before, I was wrong, because right now, he somehow looks even worse.

His skin is this ghostly pale and his head has been shaved bald. Small yellow tubes come out from underneath this big Band-Aid that’s stuck on top of his head. They attach to a small bag, filled with a red fluid. I try hard not to think about what it is, and why that’s in there. Instead I look away.

Back to Daichi. Who, even though being almost 180 centimeters tall and rather broad-shouldered, looks tiny when buried underneath the large tubes and threads that go into him at various places.

It makes me sick.

Extremely sick.

I have to sit down, force myself to stay, even though every fiber of my being tells me to run. I can’t walk from this. Not this time. I know I will regret it if I do. I will stay by his side, like I promised.

So, with shaking hands, I take a hold of his. It lays still, there’s not even the slightest of moment.

Just like there’s no emotion on his face when my voice breaks as I tell him, “Hey, Daichi. I’m here.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Hitoka Yachi
Sunday, 18:01

I’ll call her- I tell myself, cradling my cell phone in my hands. –in a minute.

I’ve been sitting here, on the edge of the hard cheap motel’s mattress, for what feels like hours. Debating when or whether I should call my mom to let her know what’s going on.

Part of me knows how she will react, and that same part of me also wishes that my phone had been absolutely destroyed by the crash. But it didn’t; sure, scratches and cracks in the screen might make it look like my phone will never function again, but the buttons still work.

This phone is nearly unbreakable, and I know that’s probably why mom bought me this specific flip phone when I started going to middle school ages ago. It was so I could call her at anytime, without the risk of my phone being broken.

I just wish it broke.

That way I wouldn’t have to call my mom right now. If it would’ve been broken, I wouldn’t have to explain why I am only contacting her now; more than an entire day after we arrived at the hospital.

I just don’t want her to get mad at me. Or at anyone else for that matter.

“Are you okay?” Kiyoko asks when she walks out of the bathroom after a quick shower. Her wet hair drips water on the clothes that are a few sizes too large for her, since they belong to Tanaka. He was kind enough to ask his sister to bring some clean sets of clothes so we could change out of our sweaty and bloody clothes. All the blood has finally been washed off of her skin.

So, that’s exactly what we did as soon as we got here. And even though leaving the hospital with part of our team still stuck in there felt wrong, I’m also really glad to be away from there. Glad to have clean clothes, even if I’m basically drowning in them.

Kiyoko’s eyes look worried when she sees me sitting on the bed, phone still in my hands with mom’s number displaying on the screen. I told her I’d call mom while she was in the shower, but I don’t have the guts to just tell her what happened.

“I just-“ I swallow audibly. “I can’t do it.”

Kiyoko walks over to the bed, taking a seat beside me. Her voice is calm when she says that I am going to have to tell her one way or another. “I had to call my brother as well, remember?”

“Yeah.” I remember it very clearly. Not because Kiyoko was being dramatic like me, but because I keep thinking about I want to be more like her; she was so calm when she told her brother that we crashed, and that she was alright, but that she was staying at a motel for the night so she could be there for the friends that did get hurt. And her brother? He reacted so calm too, from what I could hear in Kiyoko’s replies. But that’s only because he knows how grown up Kiyoko really is; he knows that she can handle this, and lets her decide things for herself, but mom’s nothing like that.

To mom, I am still a child, who either needs to be protected or disciplined.

“You can do it,” she promises me.

I take a deep breath. Shivers rush down my spine the second my finger presses on the green call-button. I hold the phone against my ear and listen as it rings.

“Hi, sweetie,” mom’s voice sounds through the speakers, trying to sound elated that she’s hearing from me. I can tell, though, that I interrupted her during yet another important job. I should’ve known; she’s never off work this early, most days she isn’t home till eleven or sometimes even later than midnight. “How is Tokyo? Have you been able to do something productive there already?”

“It’s-“ I think about lying. Telling her that it’s amazing, that I’ve never been better. But I can see Kiyoko sitting from the corner of my eye; her being there is what encourages me to tell mom. “It’s not- we’re not at the camp, mom.” I pause, allowing myself some time to breathe. “Something happened.”

There are people talking in the background of our conversation, and I can tell that she’s having a hard time ignoring them. Especially since she doesn’t seem to notice the seriousness in my voice. Her voice doesn’t sound the slightest bit worried when she tells me not to be so vague. “What do you mean something happened.”

I swallow. “Mom, we- our bus-” How on Earth do I say this? What do I want to happen after these words leave my mouth? I have no clue. All I know is that I have to get the message across somehow. “On the way to Tokyo, our bus crashed.”

She stays silent. Just for a second though. It’s agonizing nevertheless, because I cannot tell what’s going on inside her head. I have no clue what she’s thinking, not until she lets out a nervous scoff and says, “But that was Friday.”

“It was.”

“It’s Sunday now.”

“It is.”

My heart races in my chest when I hear her apologize to someone. There’s a long, mostly silent, pause, before she eventually hisses, “Why didn’t you call me earlier, Yachi?” I can tell that she’s just trying not to be heard, but the way she speaks through clenched teeth doesn’t make her sound happy at all.

I don’t think she is happy either.

“I couldn’t,” I lie. I could’ve called her earlier today, or maybe even Saturday evening, but that’s not the first thing you think about when you’ve just survived an accident. At first I was too overwhelmed by the fact that some of my friends and my coach were on the brink of death. And once we’d officially gotten the news that they had survived, all I could think about was my ankle, which has been hurting more and more since the painkillers stopped working somewhere around midnight. Calling mom wasn’t what came to mind until later today, and when it did, I was too scared about her reaction.

“That’s nonsense-“ The second word comes out sounding like a whisper, like she doesn’t actually want me to hear it. I do hear it, though; at least I now know exactly what she thinks.

“It isn’t nonsense.” I tighten my grip around the phone. “We crashed, and we got hurt. Some of us were dying, but we couldn’t contact anyone. Not even an ambulance.” I close my eyes and brace myself for her response, not sure if I would prefer her protection or a complete outburst of anger.

“How about you?” Her voice is smaller than before when she eventually asks me, “Did you get hurt?”

I nod, even though she can’t see me. “A little.”

“Oh sweetie-“ Her protection is what I’ll get. For now.

“It’s just my ankle, it got twisted during the crash.”

“Where are you now?” she asks me. “Are you somewhere safe?”

“We’re at a motel, in Tokyo.”

“Who’s we?” She probably shook her hear, because she immediately says, “You know, it doesn’t matter. You can’t be safe at a motel, especially not in Tokyo.”

“Mom-“ I try, but she speaks right over me, like she doesn’t even hear me.

“How about you tell me the address? I’ll send someone to pick you up as soon as possible.”

“Mom, I’m staying.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“It isn’t.” Surviving in a forest, when it gets nearly freezing at night and half of the people you’re with have lost so much blood that they barely have the strength to stay awake; that is dangerous. Staying at a motel? It’s about as dangerous as cuddling a pillow compared to being in a bus crash. I have to fight really hard to keep the words unsaid, because they’re burning in my throat.

“Yachi, I’m serious.”

“So am I.” My breathing is so fast, it can’t be healthy. But my voice is certain when I say, “I am staying. Four of my friends and my coach are still at the hospital, I have to wait till tomorrow to see them. Plus, I’m staying here with a couple of other friends, their family and a teacher, I’m sure I’ll survive.”

She remains silent for moment.

A long moment.

“Fine.” She doesn’t sound like she thinks it’s “fine”. She also doesn’t sound like she’s going to give me much of her protection and love once I get home. That’s my own fault, I guess. “You can stay for the night, but I’m having someone pick you up at the hospital tomorrow evening.”

“Alright,” I reply, my voice small, nearly apologetic. Not that I have something to apologize for.

“Alright.” She sighs, or maybe she’s just taking a very deep breath, before putting up her façade again. “I have to get back to work again now,” she tells me, sounding perky as ever. “Love you, sweetie.” Those are her last words before she hangs up the phone, acting like nothing happened.

I lower the phone with trembling hands. I look at Kiyoko and force a smile. “I did it.”

A small part of me is proud of myself, but the other 99% of me feel like I’ve just been hit by a bus. Not physically, though I am bruised all over, but just mentally exhausted. This outs itself in tears.

Drips of pure stress streaming down my cheeks as I try to keep up that smile.

“You did it,” Kiyoko responds. She scoots a little closer to me and, for what feels like the millionth time in the past three days, she starts stroking my head with her hand. With kind words she comforts me.

I close my eyes and lean up against her. “Thank you,” I whisper in between sobs. Though, I’m not sure that a simple thanks is ever going to be enough to repay her for the way she’s here for me, while she obviously has her own things to worry about too.

“No problem,” she replies, her voice soft and low. We both go silent then, probably because neither of us know what to say about what just happened. I mean, what is there to say; this is just how my mom is. It’s not something I’m not used to, though part of me secretly hoped that she would be more understanding. It’s not like she’d want my judgment and anger if she’d been in a car crash.

“I wonder how she would’ve reacted,” I whisper, not to anyone in particular. “To being in a bus crash, I mean.”

I don’t expect Kiyoko to react, since she is usually more of the silent encouragement, but she does. Her voice is quiet when she says, “Going from how she reacted to you just now, she wouldn’t have handled it anywhere near as good as you did.” When I look up to her, she’s smiling, just a little.

I think about mom having to survive like we did, it’s odd. Maybe even a little funny, seeing her make her way through the woods in her designers’ dress and high heels. And she definitely wouldn’t have been able to handle the blood. I chuckle, and when Kiyoko asks me why that’s funny, I say, “Nothing. I’m just agreeing.” Another giggle escapes from my mouth. I think back to the pictures I’ve seen in photo albums from when I was born. She looked so pale, almost greenish, in those. “She couldn’t stand the blood when I was just born, so she didn’t look at me until they had cleaned me off.”

Kiyoko’s expression looks a little confused, maybe because she thinks it’s an unnatural response for a mother. And maybe she’s right; I don’t know, I’ve always felt like I’d be the same. I was certain I had the same level of squeamishness as my mom, since I never had the guts to look when they drew blood, but after the past few days, I doubt it.

I can’t say that Kiyoko’s mouth smiles when she says, “And there you were, cleaning wounds like you weren’t scared at all.” Her eyes look proud, though.

I’d say that “weren’t scared at all” is an overstatement, because upon seeing Kageyama’s wounds especially, I nearly fainted. “You were the real badass,” I remind her, because she was; she didn’t even wince at everyone’s wounds. Though, she probably also was terrified. “But I have to admit-“ A tiny smile creeps onto my face. “I was pretty cool too.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Kei Tsukishima
Monday, 01:00

There’s something eerie about a hospital’s waiting room at night. Especially when you have no clue how much longer you are going to have to wait here.

Unlike Yachi, Kiyoko, Tanaka, Takeda, Asahi and their family, I stayed at the hospital. Even though I would’ve enjoyed a proper bed to sleep in, even if it was just at a cheap motel. I think the same goes for Yamaguchi, but I had to stay, and apparently Yamaguchi goes where I go; somewhere deep down, I’m glad that he’s by my side, though.

Because I don’t know what I would’ve done if I had to wait all on my own, for my mom and brother to get here. They should be here any minute, but many hours have passed before I even called them.

Dr Uchida said he wasn’t going to sugarcoat it; the damage to my eyes was worse than he had initially thought. I was going to need my mother to get through this.

The tests took hours upon hours to complete, and it took even longer for them to get the results. By the time I got back to the waiting room, it was already past midnight, and I couldn’t just call her in the middle of the night. She’s one of those people who makes irrational decisions when she’s tired and stressed, and she would most certainly wake up Akiteru so he could drive her to Tokyo in the pitch black night. I know what happens when you do that; I wasn’t foolish enough to call her.

I waited until Yamaguchi, who was sleeping soundly while I was wide awake, woke up. He claimed that the light was so bright, which probably meant that it had become morning by then.

That’s when I called them. For the first time in my l was thankful for the indented numbers on my flip phones buttons; I was able to call them without help. I don’t think I’ve ever heard mom so worried before, especially when I told her about my eyesight. She promised she would get to Tokyo as soon as possible, but since she doesn’t have a license, she had to wait until Akiteru got home from work.

If Yamaguchi’s right, and he told me the right time when I asked him how late it was, my brother probably got off work about five or six hours ago. Despite me not wanting to drive through the middle of the night, it must be past midnight already nevertheless.

Though for me every moment of the day feels like night. It’s just the increased sounds surrounding me that make daytime feel a little lighter and less lonely. Other than that, I feel like in the past hours, my eyesight has gotten so much worse, to the point that I can’t even see the difference between light and shadows anymore.

That’s why I get spooked half to death when two pairs of arms suddenly wrap around.

At first I want to blame Yamaguchi; he shouldn’t just touch me, he knows I cannot see a single thing. But then I realize that Yamaguchi would have no reason to suddenly embrace me like this, unless he had a really scary nightmare, of course. But that chance is slim. So, my next hinge is that it’s mom.

Small fingers tousle my hair, before resting on my shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re alive, Kei.”

My hinge was right.

I take a slow breath and mutter, “Yeah. You shouldn’t jump me like that, though.”

Her grip around my shoulders tenses up a little. “Is it really that bad?” I’m so glad I can’t see her face, because her voice genuinely breaks at the end of that sentence. I thought I had made it clear enough by saying that the crash caused me to lose my eyesight, but apparently she still had hope that it wouldn’t be that bad. Or maybe that’s just what she made herself believe in the hours that she was waiting; that I was just exaggerating. As if I usually do that.

I nod once.

“But it’s going to be okay,” Yamaguchi squeaks. “The doctor said he could fix it, right?” His voice sounds a little tired, still, like we just woke him up. And he’s twisting the words I said earlier, leading to me having to tone down my mother and brother’s hopes when they let out a sigh of relief.

“Probably,” I correct him. “He said that he could probably fix it.”

“But he’s a good doctor, right?” That’s Akiteru’s voice, determined, yet afraid.

I nod return, but only because Dr Uchida told me that he was the head of his department, not because he told me he could fix my eyes in a very convincing way. He simply said that often times people did just regain their vision after they’d lost it during something like an accident.

He lets out another sigh of relief, before saying, probably to mom, “Then probably is a big chance.”

“Yeah,” mom replies, there’s also relief in her voice.

Maybe it’s a good thing, being surrounded by such optimistic people all the time.

Even after Yamaguchi heads to the motel, and there’s one person less, my mom and brother have enough optimism for three. Well, maybe even for four.

With that same optimism still present, we make our presence known at the front desk. The receptionist says she’ll let Dr Uchida know that we are coming. So, we start making our way to the ophthalmology department. It’s a little freaky, feeling the ground structures change beneath my feet. The softer flooring gets replaced by a hard steel as we make our way into the elevator, which dings each time we head up a floor. We get out on the second floor.

I recognize the hollow sound of the hallway and the hard, tile floor that make the sound of mom’s small heels even more overwhelming. It’s definitely the same hallway Dr Uchida and I walked through yesterday, which means we must almost be at his department, unless all the hallways sound the same.

Once again, I was right. Because not long after we’ve wandered into the hallway, Akiteru helps me find a chair so we can wait. Not that there’s a long waiting time; there must not be many patients in the middle of the night, which is not surprising. And works in our favor, because Dr Uchida’s able to meet us in the waiting room, what feels like, just a couple of minutes after I sit down.

“Miss Tsukishima,” he says, with that same kind voice he used when talking to me. “I’m so glad that you have made it here.” He pauses, but doesn’t wait long before inviting us into his office. Part of me feels a little anxious, because it makes it feel like something has to be done quickly in order to help my vision come back. But then again, he might as well be eager to go home and sleep after a long day.

I sure know I am.

After we sit down, Dr Uchida explains the entire situation; in facts, like I did when I explained everything to the team, and what I wish Yamaguchi had done to my parents. He explains, how me hitting my face during the crash is what caused my sudden loss of vision. “On the inside of his eye there’s vitreous gel, this is a clear and thick fluid, and when he hit it, he started bleeding into this fluid,” he explains, directing it to mom and Akiteru for the most part, since he already told me all of this. “Because of this, the vitreous gel isn’t clear enough anymore and therefore he can’t see.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Now, usually, we don’t perform surgery to remove the blood. In many cases the bleeding just clears up and vision returns after a couple of months.”

I can hear mom nodding beside me, her hair keeps making a small scratching sound as it moves over her clothes over and over again.

“But in Tsukishima’s case, we’re afraid the bleeding is so severe that it won’t clear up on its own,” he continues. “That’s why we want to perform a vitrectomy. This is a surgery where we remove vitreous jelly and the blood.  We’ll temporarily replace the vitreous gel with a special saline solution. In time, Tsukishima’s body will just replace the fluids by itself.” He stops talking, giving mom some time to think.

“And then his vision will just return?” she asks after a while.

“It’s not a guarantee, but we’ve seen great improvement in 90% of the cases where we perform a Vitrectomy,” he promises her. He takes a slow breath before adding, “But, just like with any other surgery, this one comes with risks.” There’s the sound of a piece of paper being shoved over the table.

I expect mom to just read it in silence and make a decision, but Dr Uchida reads aloud, “In this case there’s a risk of infection, excess bleeding, high pressure in the eye, retinal detachment, lens damage, increased rate of cataract formation, problems with eye movement after surgery or change in the refractive error.”

Mom swallows audibly. “It sounds risky. Is it really worth it?”

“The choice is completely up to you and your son, Miss Tsukishima,” Dr Uchida reminds her. “But I do think it’s Tsukishima’s biggest chance at getting his eyesight back.”

Mom’s hand wraps around mine, I can tell that she’s nervous by how clammy they are. Probably because of the risks she just read, but all surgeries have their risks. She takes a deep breath and squeezes my hand gently before asking me what I want.

I don’t need much time to think about that; anything to return my vision. I am not depending on others for the rest of my life, that has never been my plan, and it never will be. So I nod. “I want it.”

Mom nods as well, I can hear it, and it’s soon followed by the scribbling of a pen on paper.

“Then you’re getting it.”

-○-

The pressure of a cold plastic eye pad presses down on my face as we make our way out of the hospital three hours after they performed the surgery. It’d been a long wait before we could even get to the operation room, at least until it was morning again. I’m seated in a wheelchair, because I’ve been feeling extremely dizzy ever since I got out of surgery. Maybe it’s because I was awake the entire time. It wasn’t long and it was doable, but it was freaky. They told me I wouldn’t feel a thing, but even with the anesthetic eye drops they gave me beforehand, I felt everything. It didn’t hurt, they were right about that, but I did not particularly enjoy the feeling of people doing things inside of my eye.

Though Dr Uchida told me that my dizziness might have to do with my vision loss. Something about my balance being off because of my eyes; it didn’t make much sense to me. But he advised against walking around too much until the lightheadedness cleared up.

Dr Uchida gave us his contact information after the surgery and told us to contact him if there were any changes. He also told us that it was probably wise to plan an appointment with my own family doctor, since I was going to have to go to hospital closer to home for check-ups every once in a while.

Other than that everything looked alright, no complications, and no changes. So I could go home, all the way back to Miyagi, in the back of a car. While being dizzy. Sounds great.

But at the same time, I am longing to just drop down onto my bed and sleep. I’ve been tired all day.

As we head outside through the sliding doors, I can feel the sunlight on my face, but there’s not the slightest bit of light to be seen. Obviously I knew that it wouldn’t go that fast. Dr Uchida made it clear; it would take up to at least two to four weeks before I’d notice any changes, but they’ve seen cases where it took up to six months before someone’s vision wasn’t at all blurry anymore.

Still, part of me hoped that I’d notice a change. But all the change I notice is that my eyes hurt more and are extremely itchy, and that’s not for the better, since it previously barely even felt like a bruise.

I automatically take my hand up, wanting to rub my eye, but the plastic stops me from touching it.

“You shouldn’t rub it, Kei,” Akiteru reminds me, stopping the wheelchair slowly.

“Shut up,” I grumble, lowering my hand.

Akiteru chuckles and pats me on the shoulder, making it seem like he was just teasing me, but I know he wasn’t; he’s nervous about me messing up and making myself blind. But I did everything to keep this from happening, I just was unlucky enough to hit my head against the chair in front of me when our bus crashed. I literally did nothing to make it worse. I just ignored it and kept going, because that was what the team needed; we wouldn’t have survived if I, too, fell apart.

I hear a short click, followed by the sound of a door opened. My heart makes a little jump, not a happy one. It’s followed by a sinking feeling that washes over me as soon as Akiteru asks me if I can stand. “You need to transfer into the car, but-“ His voice trails off. “Kei, you look sick.”

I feel sick. Somehow just the thought of getting into that car, feeling it drive, makes me feel sick.

I didn’t think it would feel like such a big deal, honestly, it’s not like I was scared about getting to the car. I hadn’t even thought about the trip home. Up to this very moment, that is.

I decide to try and shrug it off, and instead of admitting that I’m terrified, I scoff. “It’s just my face.”

“Oh- Uh, y-yeah sure,” Akiteru immediately replies, there’s unease in his voice. He probably knows that I’m afraid, so does mom, but they both decide to ignore it and don’t say another thing about it. They don’t say a single thing at all, to be more precise.

They simply support me as I make my way into the car and help me find the seatbelt to buckle up. And once they’re also seated inside, they remain silent. It feels off, and very unlike my brother and mother to be this silent. They’re usually all about talking about things that are going on; chatting away the pain and worries. And even though I normally find that annoying, I wish they would speak now.

But instead the music gets turned on, pretty loud, and all of us take a moment of silence.

I can feel their pity, though, and their fear about the whole entire situation. I can feel them thinking about what’s to come of me. Meanwhile, all I can think about is about those two to four months.

Just a little longer- I promise myself. –and everything will be normal again.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Yuu Nishinoya
Monday, 15:06

I always thought nerves of steel were a family trait that had been passed down to everyone in my family except for me. My sisters have it, and I bet my parents had it too. But my grandpa, in my eyes, has the strongest nerves of steel. Or, well, that’s how I always saw it.

Saw: past tense. Because after yesterday I have my doubts.

I don’t think I have ever seen fear in my grandfather’s eyes, but there it was. I’d gotten hours to adjust to the thought, not that it was easy to accept that my legs weren’t going to move again anytime soon, but for him it was all new. All he had been told was that I had been in an accident, got hurt and he needed to come as soon as he could. At first there was just relief in his eyes when he saw that I was alive, but that soon turned to this darkness I had never seen in my grandfather’s eyes before when my doctor, Akihiko, told him about what was going on with me.

The word “paralyzed” hadn’t even left Akihiko’s mouth, or my grandpa had left the room. He just got up, told Akihiko that he wanted to speak to him under four eyes, and left me alone.

I didn’t know, at the time, that this darkness in his eyes was fear. I just thought that he was pissed at me for allowing this to happen, just like he always got pissed with me when I accidently dropped a plate while washing the dishes or something. But this was nothing like that; the old man was terrified.

I could see it better as he returned and patted me on the head. He said that it would be alright, that we would deal with this, but I swear his eyes were red and wet from crying. Which freaked me.

Because my grandpa doesn’t cry.

Hence why, today when visiting hour comes around, my heart won’t stop racing. It’s just throbbing in my chest the way it does before a big match, maybe even faster. And I cannot seem keep my hands from shaking. That’s how scared I am to have to face my grandpa again.

I thought it would be comforting to see him, have him beside me, because he always knows what to do and how to react. But right now, I’m anything but happy to have him here. Seeing that terror in his usually stern eyes, it haunts me- there’s nothing more terrifying than seeing grownups cry.

A shiver runs through me when there’s a sudden knock on the door. I glance at the clock on the wall, seeing that it’s barely even three in the afternoon; I didn’t think someone would be so eager to see me.

My voice’s a little shaky when I say, “Come in.” Because I’m not sure I want visitors.

Slowly but surely the door opens and a familiar face shyly peeks around the corner of the door. Asahi’s clearly still hesitant about coming in, because he takes extremely small steps, and refuses to look at me. His eyes are fixated on his feet as he shuffles into the room just enough so he can close the door.

He stands there, his voice is careful and small when he says, “Hey, Noya.”

“Hey!” My voice sounds enthusiastic, but on the inside I’m not sure what to think. Part of me is extremely happy that it’s Asahi, because at least he’s not my grandpa. And seeing that Asahi’s here and my grandpa isn’t, probably means that we’re going to have a moment with just the two of us, which is almost always chill. Almost always. Because I also know Asahi longer than today; at first he might act like nothing’s wrong, but eventually he’ll want to know what the doctors said about me.

If I tell him that I’m paralyzed, complete and irreversible or whatever Akihiko said, he will blame himself. He’s been blaming himself for my injuries ever since it happened, I can see it in his eyes. If I tell him, he will only make himself feel worse, and that’s the last thing the both of us need.

“How are you feeling?” he asks me, carefully looking up at me from underneath the hair that hangs in front of his face. It looks washed. Good, I think to myself, because at least that means he got the opportunity to shower. He also looks a bit better rested than he did last time I saw him.

I try on a smile, even though that’s not really how I feel on the inside. I don’t quite know how I feel, because of course part of me is glad that I survived and all, and from what I heard the others also survived. And that’s good and all, but-

I look away and feel the heavy weight on top of me when I realize that for the first time I have no clue what to say. There’s no simple answer to this question. Because I’ve just been feeling numb, literally, but I bet that’s not the answer Asahi’s hoping for. But telling him I’m good would be a lie.

How do I feel?

“Nishinoya?” he asks when I stay silent for a while. His worried voice urges me back to reality.

I snap my head back to him and chuckle. “Sorry-“ I scratch the back of my head with my head. “Guess I spaced out.” Another wide, fake, smile makes its way onto my face. “Why don’t you sit down?” I gesture to the chair beside my bed, the one that was taken by my grandpa all afternoon yesterday as he and I sat here in silence. “It’s so awkward if you just stand there, you know?”

Asahi’s shoulders tense up, almost like he’s afraid to come closer, but his mouth says, “You’re right.” He draws a quick breath before walking across the room. Just like that he takes a seat beside me, but there’s something still very tense about the way he’s sitting. With his knees turned away from me and his eyes just not looking at me. It’s just subtle enough that anyone who doesn’t know Asahi that well would just think he’s awkward and, don’t get me wrong, he is! But not around me.

Usually he’s pretty chill and laid back around me; like laying on his back on my bedroom floor and his feet resting on my bed kind of chill. Just inches apart, and we pass the ball up against the wall, chill.

But I choose to ignore that, and instead return his question, in hopes I won’t have to answer it.

“Oh, I’m-“ He’s definitely about to lie and say “good”, but he changes his mind. “I’ve been better.”

“Same here,” I answer, partially because he deserves to know, but also out of habit.

A small bit of relief washes over me when he doesn’t immediately ask something along the lines of “oh god why aren’t you feeling good?”, but instead just smiles a gentle smile.

“Figures,” he replies, but after that he goes silent again.

“Yeah,” I whisper, just to break the silence. It gives me a little time to think about what else we’re going to talk about; anything to keep his questions about my back to a problem for the me of the future. I don’t think I can keep them from being asked much longer, but just a little longer is enough. “So, where did you sleep tonight?” It’s simple enough that answering it won’t be hard for him, and I will have an opportunity to postpone even more if I want to know who he was with.

This will give me just enough time to think about how on Earth I am going to break the news to him, because this time Akihiko’s not here to help me out. I have to tell Asahi. The only question is: how?

Asahi tells me all about the motel they stayed at; they being him, Yachi, Kiyoko, Tanaka and his sister and, of course, his parents. It doesn’t surprise me that they came here and didn’t mind staying the night at a motel for their son; they’re the most supportive parents I know, they even always come and watch our matches if they can make the time. Asahi says he swears he heard cockroaches at night, but his parents refused to believe him; they’d apparently paid too much to have cockroaches in their room.

“Yikes!” I giggle, making a disgusted face.

Asahi chuckles awkwardly. “Yeah, I could hear them walk around like they owned the place.”

I cross my arms and shake my head. “The audacity!”

We both laugh and for a second everything feels like it usually does.

Until it doesn’t.

Asahi’s laugh turns into a soft giggle. Which soon fades into silence again.

That feeling of unease returns, when Asahi looks up at me with two big brown eyes. He hasn’t said anything yet, but I can feel the question burning on his tongue. He just doesn’t know how to ask. I can tell he wants to know the answer nevertheless and maybe, just maybe, him not knowing is worse.

“You want to know what the doctors said, right?” I carefully ask him, after a while.

Asahi doesn’t say a thing. He doesn’t have to. I know the answer just by looking at him.

“It wasn’t good, really. Who knew not wearing a seatbelt would be a bad idea-“ I force a chuckle, but it comes out sounding dry and emotionless. I glance down at my legs, the way the lay there, still and numb. I lower my hands onto the blanket, allowing them to rest on top of my lap. I can feel my legs underneath my hands, but I can’t feel anything the other way around.

This isn’t the time for jokes. I remind myself. He doesn’t need your façade and fearlessness right now.

My mask falls off slowly as I carefully allow my smile to fade.

He needs the real you.

I take a deep breath and try to recall the words that Akihiko told me two days ago. Not that it’s hard to remember them, they have been engraved into my memory. I can still hear his voice explaining it to me, just like I now explain it to Asahi. Or well, I’m trying to explain it just as good, but the massive amount of nerves rushing through my body don’t make it easy at all. “So, I broke my spine- or a part of it.” The T10 vertebra, I remember. “The bit that’s just below my belly button.”

I glance at Asahi to see if he understands a single word I’m saying. I’m not sure if his large eyes are a sign that he doesn’t or does, but just doesn’t know how to react.

My throat feels dry when I try to swallow away the lump in my throat. “Because of that I can’t feel-“ I start to choke up. Tears prickle behind my eyes. I don’t want to tell him. “-or move my legs.“ But he needs to know. So instead of allowing myself to completely fall silent, I simply close my eyes.

You’re alone. I tell myself, because it’s easier picturing myself telling this to myself, like I have been doing over and over again for the nightly hours I’m wide awake trying to move my toes underneath the blankets. You won’t hurt anyone by saying this. It’s just the truth. You’re just reminding yourself.

“I’m paralyzed.”

I keep my eyes closed a little longer, because it’s easier that way. It’s easier not to see the shock on Asahi’s face right before tears fill up his eyes. I can pretend like I haven’t just told my best friend something that might make him hate himself. With my eyes closed I can pretend that the sobs I hear are my own. So I keep my eyes closed and focus on my breathing, before I repeat, “I’m paralyzed.”

There, it’s out there.

I open my eyes. The world around me looks a little blurrier than I remember. And the weight upon my shoulders is heavier. Literally. But not in a bad way, more in like a fuzzy and warm weighted-blanket type of way. It takes me a moment to realize that that weight is Asahi, whose arms are wrapped around my neck. He’s not pressing hard, clearly making sure not to hurt me.

Hugging me like a soft, large teddy bear.

And the sobs I hear, while I’m sure some of them are his, they are mine too. Tears run over my cheeks as I bury my face against Asahi’s shoulder. I sniffle before whispering, “I’m okay dude, really-“ My voice breaks, though, so it’s not really convincing.

He hugs me a little harder, still making sure not to hurt me. “Shut up.” He sounds stuffed and cry-y too.

“You shut up,” I respond with a small sniffle. I bury my face in his hoodie again and take a slow breath; it makes me feel a little better. The fact that he’s not staying far away from me, looking at me like I’m fragile, like he did when we weren’t sure of my injuries just yet. Like I was afraid he would do forever.

I take a slow breath before teasily saying, “You can let go now.”

“I refuse,” he immediately responds.

“But I don’t need the comfort.”

“I know.” His chest jolts softly before he adds, “But I do.”

Part of me knows dead-well that I do too. He also knows that, because it’s not like Asahi to force himself upon people because he needs it; he’s only saying that, because he knows I won’t admit that I need him here. He probably feels my pain, just like he always does with everyone around it. This empathy allows him to know how much I actually need him, without me having to tell him.

That’s why he holds me tight and doesn’t let go of me. I hug him back, wanting this moment to last a little longer, because it’s actually making me feel a little better.

That's why I feel somewhat sad when he eventually lets go and sits backs. His eyes are red and his cheeks shimmer in the light, but I can't say much, I probably look just as miserable.

But that's okay, I think.

"Thank you," Asahi says, wiping away a few tears.

"For what?"

He shrugs. "For telling me, and comforting me-" He glances away. I can tell that he hesitates before carefully adding, "And for not hating me."

He still blames himself for what happened. I know he does. But also I know that I do not blame him; I am the one who loosened my seatbelt.

I fold my arms and scoff. "You do not get to have self-pity, Asahi."

“W-what?” he stammers. “Why?”

“Because-“ I lift my chin. My eyes squint at him. I explain that I just cannot allow him to.

To which he, again, asks me why. It’s almost like he really doesn’t understand.

I breathe out a slow breath and smile at him. “You’re my best friend, Asahi.” Our eyes meet. He looks a little afraid, a little guilty, even though we both know he isn’t to blame. “And you did nothing wrong.”

He smiles, but it’s a bit too forced to be real. “Yeah, sure.”

“Of course you’re going to be all negative and mopey.” I close my eyes shortly before letting out a dramatically loud sigh. “You’re not going to give me a choice, are you?”

He frowns at me and, without sound, he mouths “what?”.

I reach out my hand as far as I possibly can, which isn't far since my body is weighed down by itself and a large brace sitting around my entire lower back. But I can just reach far enough to give Asahi a good smack on his shoulder. His head or side would've been more effective.

With huge eyes he stares at me. A second of silence almost leads me to think that he’s actually hurt, but then the deepest belly chuckle makes its way from his throat, filling the room with laughter. He wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, giggling, “What the Hell was that for?”

My cheeks turn red when I realize that it was only semi-effective; but that’s enough for now. “I-I don’t know-“ I chuckle escapes from my mouth. It’s tiny and almost inaudible, but it’s really real. For the first time in days, I actually feel like laughing, and part of me thinks that’s because I can see a bit of relief in Asahi’s eyes. Unlike grandpa or the doctors, he doesn’t pity me. Or well, if he does, he won’t show it.

He doesn’t treat me as this fragile thing. He treats me like me.

And that makes that, in this moment, I couldn’t be happier about him being here, by my side.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Asahi Azumane
Monday, 18:00

The cold breeze of an early spring evening makes my cheeks feel a little tingly as we make our way from the hospital to our car. Maybe it’s just the wind, causing my face to feel nearly frozen, but it could also be because my tears haven’t fully dried up yet. I’m not even sure if I’m fully done crying yet.

Is there a right moment to be done crying when you just found out that your best friend is paralyzed? Nishinoya’s such an active guy; he’s not supposed to be stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of his days. I can tell that he thinks about it that way too, even if he doesn’t say it out loud.

I tell myself that that’s why I don’t want to leave, because everything inside of me tells me that Nishinoya won’t cope with this well when I’m not beside him. For the entire time that I was with him, it was like he still couldn’t believe the news he’d been given two days ago. He’s still chill under the circumstances, or he’s at least able to make it appear that way, but that won’t last. That’s not how fear and sadness work. At some point he’s going to realize the severity of his injuries.

When he does, he shouldn’t be all alone. I shouldn’t be all the way back in Miyagi, while he’s still here, in Tokyo. I should be right by his side, even if he might not want me there anymore once he realizes that being paralyzed isn’t a temporary problem. I am the one who probably made a much smaller back injury into what it is now, after all. Even if it was caused by me simply wanting to save his life, it was still my mistake; I should never have moved him. I should’ve listened to his screams and put him down before it was too late. When he, too, realizes that, I doubt he’ll want me by his side anyway.

I close my eyes and take a slow breath; that’s just how things are going to be.

The cold air tickles in my throat and my chest feels tight. Even tighter when I open up my eyes to see that we’re getting pretty close to our car. Part of me thinks about turning back, telling mom and dad that they can just leave me here. They know Nishinoya needs me now. But at the same time, I kind of want to go home. I want to sleep in my own bed and be able to pretend, even if it’s just for a second, that nothing happened. I want to flop down on my soft mattress and breathe in the familiar scent of coming home. I want to temporarily pretend that we didn’t crash and were missing for an entire day, and no one got hurt. Nishinoya didn’t get hurt. And tomorrow will just be normal again.

I want to remember what normal feels like, because even after just three days, I feel like that’s fading away quicker than I’d hoped. And the bad thing is, I might never actually feel normal again.

That’s what hits me, even before I get in the car. Curling my fingers underneath the door handle to open the door, sends shivers down my spine. In a split second the thought enters my mind: I can’t go inside. We could crash. It freezes me up, for so long that my parents notice.

They ask me what’s wrong. I want to tell them “nothing”, but at the same time, I feel like I couldn’t fake being okay right now. I can’t step into that car, because that stupid thought just won’t leave.

"Uh-" I mutter under my breath, unsure of what to reply. This entire time I've been working on not worrying my parents. I even only cried in their presence just once, that was when they'd just arrived at the hospital. Even the tears I shed earlier today, after finding out about Nishinoya's injuries, I made sure they didn't see. It would only make them concerned about me.

Me not getting in the car is concerning them too, I can see it in their eyes. So, more than anything, I want to just get in the car. But it's like something inside of me is stopping me from doing so.

A little voice asking me, what if...

I suddenly get what Kiyoko, Tanaka and Yamaguchi were talking about when they turned down all the available car-rides back; they could've gone back to Miyagi with me and my parents or with Yachi, but they said they'd rather go by train, even though they had to switch trains two times. They'll have to wait in the cold and dark stations, and they probably won't be home before midnight, and yet I am jealous of them. Every part of me tells me I should've gone with them.

"I-" I can't do this. Is what I want to say, but instead I smile. "Guess I just spaced out." It's a lie but it's enough to drag me out of my frozenness. In a moment of clearness, I open the door and force myself inside of the car. I sit down and immediately buckle up.

When I look up, I can see mom glancing at me through the back view mirror. She looks worried, there's been this grim undertone underneath her kind and understanding smile. As soon as her eyes meet mine, looks away and tells dad, "We can head home now."

The engine of the car roars softly before it starts driving backwards, out of the parking lot. At first it's so jerky that my breath jolts in my chest. But even after the car starts moving more smoothly, my entire body still feels all shaky and sweaty.

I try staring out of the window, thinking maybe seeing my surroundings will help. In the dim evening, I can still see quite a lot of things, and I can anticipate on the moves the car will make. But it's not enough, my breathing still remains fast. Too fast.

Sooner than later, we near a high way, where the cars speed past us with bright lights flashing in the darkening sky. I decide look away, drawing quick and shallow breaths as I try to tell myself to stay calm.

"Is everything okay, Asahi?" Mom's voice is merely a murmur underneath the rushing of blood in my ears.

I blow out a slow breath. "Yeah-" Another breath leaves my lungs. Shaky, but as steady as I possibly can. We're not going to die. I promise myself, because dad’s a good driver. And he knows how scared I must be, so he'll drive even safer. It's okay. But telling that to myself feels like lying nevertheless, because Takeda also was a good driver. That didn’t help him one bit. Sometimes it just isn’t a matter of how good you are, sometimes with accidents it’s just a matter of how unlucky you are instead.

My heartbeat spikes when a car suddenly honks, not at us, but it's still too loud. The sound comes completely out of nowhere, causing my breathing to literally stop.

With each small breath I take, no air seems to be going into my lungs. I'm suffocating. Feeling nauseated and woozy, the world pulsing and shaking all around me.

"Pull over!" Mom's voice is barely a whisper, but I can hear her say, "I think Asahi's going to be sick!"

I can feel it in my stomach when we turn towards the closest place we can stop. Tingles erupt all the way from my stomach to my chest, making me feel tight and sick. I don't feel like I'm about to throw up, really, but I am rather dizzy. Like the quick breaths I take don't bring enough oxygen to my head.

I feel like I did when I saw Nishinoya lying on the bus's floor. It's like I can still hear his screams.

They were so loud. So terrifying.

Mom's hand suddenly reaching out for me is the one thing that manages to pull me away from the memory. She squeezes me in my leg, asking, "Are you feeling alright, darling?"

To which dad adds, "I can also not take the highways, if that's too scary still."

I shake my head. It's not about the highways or the speed we're driving at. And, to be honest, I am also not feeling great. I swallow thickly before admitting, "I want to stay. In Tokyo"

There's silence.

All this time mom and dad have been making it clear; they'd do anything to make me feel comfortable. But now that I am asking them for the one thing I need right now, and that's to be with Nishinoya and Daichi, and not in this car, they go silent. And somewhere that's okay. But somewhere it also isn't.

"I get that," dad mutters after a moment of silence. "But I do think it's best if you start going back to school sooner rather than later." He turns to mom. "Right, honey?"

Mom nods in agreement. Her eyes are filled with sympathy when she tells me that we just can't stay here. "You can visit your friends in the weekends, if they're even still here by then." Something in her voice tells me that mom is convinced that they'll still be hospitalized by next weekend, and she's just adding "if" to make me feel better. But I also know that, I’m not stupid; Nishinoya, Daichi, they will most certainly be here, for at least another week. If not longer. The same probably goes for Hinata, Kageyama and Ukai, I think. So, it’s no miracle that she also is aware of that fact.

“But-“ I whisper. My hands are trembling when I think about leaving Nishinoya and Daichi behind. Both of them have been my friends for such a long time. I can’t imagine going to school without Daichi being there. I’ve had to spend time at school without Nishinoya before at the start of the year, when he was suspended, but his absense back then was totally different than it is right now. This time neither of them are alright, and neither of them are even coming back before the end of the year.

I stare down at my lap and swallow down my response. I can’t expect mom and dad to stay with me, not when there’s nothing for either of us here; they’re not going to let me be with Nishinoya full-time and as long as Daichi’s still in the ICU, with his mom and Sugawara wanting to visit him daily, I won’t get to see him either. Upon that, I have my graduation to worry about; if I’m tardy or even completely absent for the last few weeks, I might not get to graduate from high school after all the work I put in.

“Sorry,” I say under my breath, when I realize that there’s no but. It sucks that they’re right, but there’s no denying that they’re just trying to do what’s best for me; getting me back to Miyagi. “You’re right.”

Mom’s hand strokes my knee. Her eyes are sympathetic when she tells me that she’s sorry about what happened. I can tell that she really is. “It’ll all be alright,” she promises me, even though that’s not a promise she can make. “Just close your eyes and try to get some rest. The past days have been a lot.”

She’s right, it has been an awful lot, but because of that I’m not sure if I’ll be able to sleep. There’s a reason why I was awake all night yesterday, and it wasn’t because of the cockroaches or the hard mattress. But I don’t want to worry her more than I already have, so I nod once and turn towards the window. The world around me moves when we start driving again. That same terror sets up in my stomach, making my breaths shallower, but apart from that I manage to ignore it for the most part.

Eventually, I even gather the courage to close my eyes. At first panic sets in even worse than it already was. It’s no wonder, seeing as I was sleeping when the accident happened. But after a couple of minutes of trying to focus on my breathing instead of the moving of the car, I feel myself getting a little calmer. For the first time since the accident, I dare actually say, I feel little anxiety. Maybe it’s because I’m not as scared as I thought, but that’s probably not the case; deep down I know I’m truly terrified of what’s to come. I’m just so tired. Too tired to overthink and stress about everything.

So, instead of stressing and getting anxious, I focus on my breath.

In and out. And in again. Until I calmly drift off to sleep.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Ryuunosuke Tanaka
Tuesday, 07:45

Miyagi feels greyer. Darker. Emptier than it used to be before we left.

The walk to school feels lonelier, even though I’d usually walk to school all my own, and this time I’m surrounded by friends. We’re together, Kiyoko, Yachi, Asahi, Yamaguchi and I, walking towards the school as a group rather than five lonely people. But we’re not complete, and I know everyone can feel that. No one has even spoken a word other than a small “good morning” when we met down at Ukai’s store. It was odd, seeing that he wasn’t there, the store even looked a little eerie with the lights being off and a piece of paper hanging from the window telling customers that they’re closed for personal reasons. It was just as strange to determine that we were all there, ready to head to school, even though so many of us are still in Tokyo, fighting for their lives.

We promised we’d stick together, since we knew things would be odd. Everyone in our school knows, Takeda informed us of that yesterday, before we left Tokyo so we could follow up his advice to start heading to school again. It was part of the school’s job to inform at least our classmates about what happened, since we’d be absent, with some of us maybe never to return again. I mean, obviously I hope Daichi and Suga end up coming back to school before graduation, but I’ve seen the shape Daichi’s in. And I’ve heard the way Sugawara raised his voice at Takeda when he mentioned Sugawara might have to end up leaving Daichi’s side. To be honest, if I would’ve been able to go see my teammates while I was at the hospital, I’d stayed too. Now I have to do with text messages, that is, is Sugawara actually remembers to send us updates on Nishinoya, Daichi, Hinata, Kageyama- everyone. Because I know most of them probably won’t feel up to talking on the phone a lot, Nishinoya maybe, but the others. I’ll try, of course, but I have little faith that Hinata’s even near his phone most of the time, because from what I’ve heard Hinata’s already been walking around more than he should. And Kageyama- well, lets just say no one other than Hinata has been able to even talk with him so far.

So it’s up to Sugawara, and maybe a little up to Nishinoya too, to make sure we who are back in Miyagi get updates on a daily. Longwinded updates, like the messages he sends when he helps us study for tests, filled with detail. Even the unwanted details. I want to- need to know how my teammates are doing. And I’d preferably not find out via the press.

Which is going to be hard, since the press is probably waiting to jump on us for more details. More gossip. They only got news from Takeda once, really soon after the accident. And as we walk into the school, it’s clear that the gossip about some unknown Karasuno students being involved in a big bus crash spread fast. After the teachers informed our fellow students, the entire school knows that’s us.

That gets more than just a little obvious when we make our way into the school.

“Is it me, or are people staring at us?” Yamaguchi asks when we’re walking through the hallways, making our way to my class, since I’m the only second-year of our team that’s going back to school again. After they bring me to my class, Kiyoko and Asahi will head to theirs and Yachi and Yamaguchi will head to their classes together. And, just like Yamaguchi noticed, people are staring at us.

It’s not hard to see, people are basically asking a thousand of questions with just their eyes; how was it to survive a bus crash? Has anyone died yet? Why are we back already? How broken are we?

No one has the guts to step towards us and ask their questions, though. They just stare at us, mouth-gaping, like we’re some famous actor or the freaking Loch Ness monster, or something like that.

“Yup, they’re definitely staring,” I reply, loud enough for everyone in the entire hallway to hear. Some eyes shift away as soon as they realize that we’re not blind and are well aware that they’re staring.

But not all eyes. One pair remains fixated on us, tears welling up as soon as they meet mine.

“Oh- guys, I heard about what happened, I didn’t think you’d be back so fast!” Kinoshita’s voice squeaks loud as he starts running in our direction. His arms are wide, and for a second it looks a little like one of those reunion moments in a sappy romance movie. That is, until he comes to a very sudden halt when he realizes something. “Wait-“ His expression grows gloomier. “Where are the others?” His eyes shift over us as he tries to determine who’s missing. “Nishinoya and Daichi? The other first-years?”

I hear Asahi draw a quick, terrified breath. Same goes for Yamaguchi, who’s the only first-year who actually played on the team, missing his entire year of teammates. And while Yachi and Kiyoko have a less visible reaction, I can tell by the tenseness of their postures that the two girls are also not ready to hear it, or even have to explain it, all again; what injuries our friends have, and for how long we suspect them to be hospitalized. So, instead of talking about it right here and now, I wrap one arm around Kinoshita’s shoulder and promise him, “I’ll all explain you in time, no worries.” Even though I know dead-well that Kinoshita, and the other second-years, will have lots of things to worry about once I tell them about everything that’s going on with our friends. But not now. Not here.

With my arm still wrapped around Kinoshita’s shoulder, I guide him away from the staring people in the hallway, and towards our classroom. I turn around to Kiyoko, Yachi, Asahi and Yamaguchi and wave them goodbye with my free hand. “Meet back here after classes are finished?”

Asahi nods once, before wishing me good luck. I’m going to need it, we all do.

It’s going to be an extremely odd day. That much is clear when Kinoshita and I make our way into our classroom, to be immediately surrounded by curious peers, wanting to know what happened. To me. To Nishinoya. To all of us. But I don’t give them what they want to hear.

I don’t want attention or fame. I just want today to be a normal day.

I keep my head held low as I find my way to my seat and sit down at my desk in silence.

Today, everything is going to be normal again. I promise myself. But that doesn’t make the whispers and the stares disappear. That one thought I whispered to myself while I was nervously lying awake all night, isn’t going to make everything normal again. And as soon as I lay eyes on Nishinoya’s desk, seeing how his seat is still empty even though he’s usually always here before me, makes it clear; today isn’t going to be normal. In contrary, everything is going to be so freaking weird, I’ll probably be gladder than ever before when it’s finally over.

-○-

People murmuring, whispers about us, is all we heard when we were still inside the school. This doesn’t stop when we step outside of the school grounds. Just a couple of steps outside of the gates, an entire crew of the press is awaiting us. Microphone and camera and all.

I love attention, according to Saeko, I’ve always loved it when people paid attention to me. At any time, for any other reason than this one, I’d jump at the chance of being interviewed. My face appearing on the news has been on my bucket list for my entire life. But after today’s unwanted attention from all my classmates – or rather, everyone from every year in this school – and the teachers, I get sick at even the thought of having to do an interview for the news.

“Let’s find another route,” I tell Asahi, Yamaguchi, Kiyoko and Yachi after checking if the press has seen us yet. I start walking behind them, spreading my arms wide, to guide them away from the big group of camera men and journalists. But with Yachi’s leg, we can’t walk too fast. So, sooner rather than later, we fall behind on the crowd of highschoolers that were hiding us from the crew.

“Oh! There they are!” I hear someone say, not someone of the press; they shouldn’t even know how we look, since no one gave permission of our names and faces being revealed to the world yet. When I turn around to see who snitched on us, I see an underclassman pointing in our direction. I guess that’s what happens when everyone inside of a school now sees you as a living legend for surviving one of the biggest crashes in the past months.

The camera’s immediately are directed in our direction, and I sincerely hope they’re not live; the attention of the entire school is already way too much, and going from the logo on the microphone a young female journalist is holding, this is not some small local news broadcast; this is going to be broadcasted and watched by the entirety of Japan.

“Shit-“ I whisper under my breath.

Yachi immediately replies by telling me, all of us, how sorry she is. “I’m just so slow-“ She’s already panting, just from trying to walk a bit faster for a couple of seconds. Using crutches can’t be easy.

“It’s not your fault,” I promise, giving her a pat on the shoulder, before turning away from the group.

Even though my heart is pounding, I force myself to walk towards the crew of Japan’s news. Not because I want to give them the interview they so badly want, but rather to tell them not to bother us anymore; people really do not seem to get this, but even if you didn’t get physically hurt in a car crash, it takes a toll on everything. It makes you tired, exhausted, and it doesn’t make you more open to a thousand people wanting to stick their noses into your business.

I take a small sprint towards the cameras, before giving them a wave. Not one that says “hi” but one that says “please, go away” in a kinder way. But they don’t seem to get that. They just get closer and the woman even asks, “Good afternoon, I heard you were one of the Karasuno students involved in the bus crash past weekend.” She smiles compassionately, yet at the same time her voice has the tone of pure business. “Is that correct?”

“Yes, I was involved, yeah,” I say, immediately wanting to add that we don’t want to be bothered.

She’s quick, though, not leaving me any room to speak at all. “I just want to say how terribly sorry I am,” she starts, but I am well aware that’s not all she’s about to say. “I’m Rumiko Hayashi.” She doesn’t leave even a small opening while explaining that she’s from the all-Japan news broadcasting. “Would you mind answering some of our questions about the accident?“

“I do mind.” I take a deep breath, but before she can try and convince me to do it anyway, I continue. “We-“ I automatically glance back to the group I’m with, immediately regretting doing so when I realize that I’m endangering their privacy by doing so. But the truth would’ve gotten out sooner than later anyway, with so many people already knowing. Asahi looks like he’s about to faint, same goes for Yachi and Yamaguchi, and Kiyoko doesn’t look too great either. We are all broken. Too broken to want to talk about the experience like we’re reviewing a movie. “We are not interested in being interviewed.”

“I just have a couple of small questions,” she promises. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“I said “no”,” I repeat myself, louder this time. I can feel fellow Karasuno students staring at me, and part of me feels like they’re minutes away from boo-ing; I bet they’re dying to hear the tragic tale of how the couple of weirdoes from the unpopular Volleyball club crashed their bus and now are famous. Of the pain and fear we felt as we woke up to our bus rolling down a freaking slope and crashing into a tree. I bet they’d love to hear the tear jerking story about Daichi being in a coma, Nishinoya losing the ability to move or feel his legs, Hinata’s failing kidneys and Ukai’s failing lungs, Tsukishima going completely blind and Kageyama being fifty percent burns and missing an entire leg and fingers.

They’d love to hear it all.

But they’re not getting it from me.

I stare at the ground, trying to remain polite even though I’m growing angrier with every second that passes. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my calm if she tries to trick me into doing an interview again. I really don’t know. All I know is that I don’t want to relive the crash. “And last time I checked, no means-“

“Alright.”

I get interrupted by a hand calmly resting on my shoulder. A shorter figure stepping in front of me.

“I’ll do the interview.” Kiyoko’s voice is barely a whisper. Her eyes are grim when she turns around to me, I can see that she doesn’t want to do this, but her eyes tell me that she knows what I should’ve known; they’re not going to leave us alone. They have a story they want to tell, and they’ll do anything to get it out of us. If we don’t give it to them, they might go as far as visiting our injured friends to get it. So, even though she steps towards the journalist and her cameras with fear in her eyes, she makes the right choice. The strong choice. Probably telling herself that there’s enough time to cry once she gets home, away from the millions of curious people and flashing cameras.

“Thank you for your cooperation.” The woman smiles shortly before putting on a serious face and serious voice. She checks to see if the cameras are rolling, before turning all her attention to Kiyoko. “You were involved in the bus crash last Friday,” she tells Kiyoko, as if she doesn’t already know; it’s not like we’ll ever forget. “How did it feel to be involved in such a big accident?”

“It was like I was having a nightmare, seeing and smelling the fire and hearing my classmates scream out.” Kiyoko begins. Her voice starts trembling right away, like it did when she tried to comfort me when I withdrew in the forest. She’s freaking terrified, probably not just because she’s about to think back to the accident; all eyes are turned to her, knowing how shy she usually is, anxiety must be killing her on the inside, even if she’s trying her hardest not to show it. “Only it wasn’t. It didn’t just end, not when we got out of the car. Not after we made it through the night. Not even after we were found and rescued.” She shakes her head. “Being involved in that crash, it’s something I-“ She glances at us, all standing right beside her, hanging onto every word she says. Because her tone, her trembling voice, is exactly how we feel when thinking back to the crash. “-we aren’t going to forget anytime soon. Probably never, because this isn’t going to just end.” She turns back to the journalist. “We’re never waking up from this nightmare, because we, and our friends that were injured, will forever be changed by what happened.”

Kiyoko’s words are a perfect description of how we all feel; changed, but not in a good way. Still searching to where we’re supposed to be headed now that our lives have been turned upside down.

And I wish, I really do, that her words were enough. But they aren’t.

Because the media wants more, less pretty words, and more gossip. This immediately is proven when Miss Hayashi continues, “Various sources say that your teacher, Ittetsu Takeda, caused your bus to crash. Would you say he’s the one who’s to blame for the injuries you and your teammates suffered?”

Kiyoko’s shoulders tense up, but she immediately shakes her head. “I don’t think any of us could ever blame mister Takeda for what happened that night.” She draws a short breath. “We could blame the road for being too dark, or the bus’s breaks to not be strong enough to stop us before we rolled down that slope. But-“ She shakes her head again. “-we couldn’t ever blame our teacher.”

It’s not even the question that makes anger rise in my chest, it’s the confusement on the journalist’s face, almost like she expected us to loath Takeda for what happened. But like Kiyoko said, we could never do that. This accident was no one’s fault, even if the media will certainly try and make it seem that way to the outsiders’ eye. But there’s no person to blame for this, but there are people that are trying to fix this. Deal with it. Live with what happened. Stay optimistic.

This isn’t going to just end. I repeat Kiyoko’s words in my head. We’re never waking up from this nightmare, because we, and our friends, will forever be changed by what happened.

All we can do, is accept that it happened, and live with our “new” lives.

And the media isn’t making that particularly easy for us.

To be continued

Chapter Text

Tobio Kageyama
Wednesday, 07:30

"Hi, Kageyama!” Hinata's voice is obnoxiously loud when he suddenly storms into my room. Or well- storms is a big word, considering he's clearly still relying on the support of some sort of long pole with a IV bag and a machine that he's wheeling around with him, making him much slower than usual.

That doesn’t take the fact that he didn't even knock to check if I was even awake. Even though I was wide awake, this still kind of annoys me. But then again, I shouldn't expect otherwise from Hinata, he's clearly been born into this world to be loud and hyperactive, and part of me is kind of relieved that he's at least acting like himself again. The way he was right after the car crash wasn’t anything like him.

Nevertheless, I still consider reminding him about where he is, when I lay eyes on the sign on the hallway's walls saying "ICU: please keep quiet, sleeping patients", especially since it's right behind him and he should've seen it when he walked up to my room. But I don't, because my throat has been hurting so much lately. Nurse Aiuchi, the nurse that visits every morning to take a look at my wounds and make sure I my vitals are good, commented on how I talked too little. Comparing to her, I do, she’s a chatterbox and way to perky to be inside of an ICU, kind of like Hinata. But I have to give it to her, she’s perceptive, because while I decided that my sore throat was probably just something small and insignificant – considering that compared to losing an entire leg, a couple of fingers and having burns over fifty percent of my body, a sore throat is just a small inconvenience – she didn’t think so. Later yesterday morning, she had to hook me up to an IV again, because I was getting dehydrated.

The sore throat still hasn’t quite left yet, and nurse Aiuchi says it’ll probably take a while, since it could also have to do with the fact that I had a tube shoved down my throat when I just got here. Until it leaves, I’ll be hooked up to an IV, and apparently the same goes for Hinata, because a small tube attaches to the inside of his arm.

Hinata closes the door behind himself and invites himself into my room. He moves slowly, clearly out of breath. It’s a little strange, seeing him pant and gasp for breath after taking just a few steps. I guess that, even though he looks pretty alright apart from the tubes and his paler-than-usual skin, the accident also took a toll on his body. He's just about done making himself comfy in the chair beside my bed, when he looks up at me and asks, "You're not even going to ask me why I'm here?"

I glare at him, squinting a little as I try to figure out why I would ask him that. He has been kind of trying to be near me a lot lately; walking in on random hours of the day like he owns the place. Nurse Aiuchi even had to scold him for coming into my room during one of my physical exams yesterday evening, which happened to be outside of the usual visiting hours. So, I kind of just thought he'd be here to tell me all about all the details he gathered on our teammates, the gossiping about nurses and doctors he heard in the hallways or videos he watched on YouTube to make his time go by faster. The stuff he usually tells me about, without me having to ask.

“Why?” I ask eventually, grimacing when a pain spreads through my throat. It’s almost like the painkillers are starting to work less and less lately, also making me feel the constant pain lingering through the entire right side of my body. And during the nights, I’ve woken up each and every one, a little after midnight, swearing I can feel my left leg radiating an intense pain that feels too real.

But whenever I look to see what’s hurting so much, I find that my leg’s still completely gone.

“Guess why!” Hinata’s eyes sparkle and his mouth smile, making me think that there’s good news.

Anything could be making him this happy; it could be something big like Daichi waking up from his coma or Hinata being allowed to go home later today, or something small, like the doctors allowing him to do some more exercise in the morning.

I shrug, immediately regretting the choice as soon as I move my right shoulder. My skin underneath the bandages tightens, making the pain near to unbearable when I lower them again. It feels like it’s about the rip and tear each time I make even the slightest move. I hiss out some air through my clenched teeth, trying not to scream or even whimper at the stings and burns I feel.

Hinata doesn’t seem to notice, though, because he just starts talking. “We are-“ His hands drum on my bedside table, making a small rumble fill my room. “-on the news!”

I stare at him, to make sure he’s not joking. Sure, I remember a group of people visiting me yesterday, asking me a couple of questions. There was a camera man with them, but it didn’t hit me that they were there for today’s news broadcast. I just thought it were a couple of interviewers for another one of those articles. There have been a lot of those too, according to Hinata, though these people were the first to reach out to me. I didn’t think much of it, though.  

“Dude, do you even get what I’m saying?” he asks me, probably because he gets less response out of me than he’d hoped for. “For ages I’ve been dreaming of being on the television. The local Miyagi news would be enough, but now we’re on the news, Kageyama. The news that whole Japan watches.” He stares into my eyes, bright happiness fills his. “Isn’t that amazing?”

I’d like to say I think it’s just as amazing as he makes it seem. Just like him, I’ve always dreamed of being on the television, me being displayed on a million people’s screens. But not like this. I wanted to be on there because we’d won a match against the best and I, as a setter, delivered the winning blow. But the reason why we’re on the news today, is just a reminder of how my dream will never come true.

Maybe it’s not like that for Hinata, since he’s probably just going to get healthy again. He hasn’t told me much about how he feels, or what the doctors tell him about his future, it sure looks like he’s just going to be playing again in a couple of months if not sooner. That’s not the case for me.

But I don’t want to spoil Hinata’s happiness, so instead of telling him what I really think, I just say, “Sure.” I close my eyes and nod, extremely carefully. “It’s pretty cool.”

“Have you seen it yet?” he asks me. Seeing as he’s already grabbing his phone, he already knows my answer; my television has not been on yet today. Neither has my phone. All I’ve done so far today is wake up to this living nightmare, go through a both physically and mentally painful check up and stare at the ceiling in silence until Hinata disturbed that aforementioned silence.

He types some things on his phone, before turning it to me. The usual chime of the all-Japan morning news fills the room as the video starts playing. The voice over starts off by talking about some other things that will be in the news this morning, one of which is our crash. The first news item to be specific; a picture of our broken down bus is shown on the small screen, immediately sending shivers down my spine. It takes me back to that moment. I hadn’t seen the shape of the bus yet, but seeing how dented and charred its remains are, it’s no miracle that most of us got hurt in some way during the crash.

“It has been all over the news lately, the Karasuno High students who were rushed to the hospital after suffering from grave injuries after their bus to Tokyo crashed,” the newscaster says. “For the past days, we haven’t been able to get much information about the survivors, but today we are able to give you an update on how the students and their teachers’ are doing.” The screen fades to a video that seems to be taken in front of our school, back in Miyagi.

Huddled up together, just barely fitting inside of the screen, are Asahi, Yachi, Kiyoko, Yamaguchi and Tanaka. All the boys and Yachi are completely silent and, though a surprise, Kiyoko is talking into the microphone. Even though she’s asked about the accident, she remains so composed that any outsider would believe that she hasn’t been traumatized by the accident. Though, there’s no fooling any of us; we all know that, each and every one of us, has been changed by what happened. She, also, is broken, even if Kiyoko barely even allows her voice to break as she explains how she felt when it happened. “It was like I was having a nightmare, seeing and smelling the fire and hearing my classmates scream out. Only it wasn’t,” she explains carefully. “It’s something I- we aren’t going to forget anytime soon.”

The voice over talks about how they also were able to speak to some of the students who were hospitalized after the crash, two of which are Hinata and me.

I still remember the interviewer walking into my room, following nurse Aiuchi as she told them that they could try and see if I wanted to be interviewed; it seemed they had been turned away by one of my classmates. I was extremely confused, though, and uncomfortable at the amount of people inside of my room. But only being half awake I didn’t think “no” was even an option when they asked me if they could ask me a couple of questions about the crash.

Hinata didn’t seem to have this same confusion, and he also looks like he was awake for a bit longer than I was. He’s sitting in a chair with tubes attaching him to a machine that zooms lightly, creating a constant background noise as he talks. “It was crazy, like being in some sort of bad movie; we were lost in the woods, all of us injured and no connection to the outside world,” he explains, every now and then his voice shivers a little. Almost like he’s trying to hide how much it scares him to think back to the accident. “But we were going to survive, I never gave up that hope.”

I trust he never did, not even when Hinata appeared to be minutes away from bleeding out, he still had a spark of hope in him. And right now, even though things feel hopeless, he’s always hopeful.

“And help came,” the voice over continues while a soundless video of Hinata getting comfortable in the large chair is being played. “All students and their coaches were lucky enough to survive. But how does it actually feel to have survived such a big accident?” The video of Hinata fades out slowly. “That’s what our interviewer asked Tobio Kageyama, one of the students who suffers from severe injuries after the bus crash.”

As soon as a new video fades in, my breath catches in my throat. On the screen, there a young guy lying in a hospital. Black, messy hair casts a shadow over the left side of his face. The entire right side of his body is covered in bandages. A hand that’s rolled up in bandage lays unmoved beside his body and what’s left of his left leg is being elevated by a pillow. He looks like a mummy, a monster. Nothing like the setter he used to be. I barely recognize myself in this person and, even when my name is displayed in the corner of the screen, I can’t believe that this is actually me.

“It’s- strange?” My voice is croaky, even more so than what I hear when I talk. My lips are chapped, dry and tearing even more as I explain that I haven’t really truly realized what happens. “It’s just surreal. Suddenly your life, everything, is different.” The camera zooms in on my left leg.

“Turn it off.” I turn away, suddenly feeling so sick. There’s a reason why I asked the doctors and nurses to cover it with the blanket again after changing the bandages, even though the pressure on my burns hurts like Hell. There’s a reason why I keep my eyes closed tightly during each and every agonyzing bandage change. Of course, they tell me I’ll have to face my injuries some day. They say it every single day, in hopes I might choose to say “okay” some time. But I’m not ready to accept that this is real.

The voiceover talking about how I was stuck in the car the longest, leading to severe burns, causes the rushing of blood in my ears to come louder. My heart pounds faster and faster. “Turn it off!”

The sound stops. Hinata’s voice returns, careful as he apologizes. “I didn’t-“

“Can you leave me alone?” My voice makes me regret my choice to shout straight away. Just like my mind, telling me that I will never be fine again, makes me regret my choice to look at this news broadcast with Hinata. I wasn’t ready to see that yet. To see me yet.

Hinata shakes his head, I don’t have to look at him to know that he’s determined to stay put.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “It was your first time seeing yourself, wasn’t it?” he carefully asks after a short silence.

I nod once.

No matter how often nurse Aiuchi asks me whether I want to see what I look like now, with and without the bandages, I always say “no”. With the bandages, like in the video, it’s just a little nauseating. But knowing what wreck is underneath that, knowing that the inability to ever fully heal from that is going to cost me my dream, is what scares me. Facing myself without the bandages, isn’t an option.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that.

“Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” I grumble, because I don’t want his pity.

“But I am. I truly didn’t know, otherwise I wouldn’t have- I would’ve warned you.” Hinata goes silent.

I can tell that he’s sorry, but that doesn’t change the fact that I wasn’t ready. And I want to be alone. So no one will have to face me when I’m like this, because everyone that has visited so far, has had pity on me. Even Hinata, even if he tries to hide it by making small talk and silly jokes.

I close my eyes, trying to get my breathing to get slower. Trying not to be scared.

But lately it seems impossible to not be scared; how could I not be afraid. I’m all alone with my thoughts all day, daydreaming about getting back in the game. Back to my normal life. Only to open my eyes to this; captured unable to move properly because of the burns, not even being able to get up to use the bathroom, because of my left leg, and knowing that there’s no way I’ll ever set a ball again with my right hand being completely useless now that all my fingers are gone. 

I am lucky to have survived, everyone keeps telling me that. But I don’t feel lucky, not even a little.

After a while, a hand carefully rests on my left arm. I can feel the cold and shivering through my long sleeved vest. I can tell, even before Hinata speaks, that he, too, is afraid. “You know that, for the first bandage changes after my surgery, I didn’t have the guts to look at my wound?” His voice is small, much more careful than any other time I’ve heard Hinata speak. “And that, each time doctor Haiiro wanted to speak to us about my future after bruising my kidneys, I wanted to run and hide, because I was too scared that he’d say something that’d stop me from reaching my dream?”

I open my mouth, ready to tell him that that’s nothing like my situation, but Hinata’s quick to beat me to that. He immediately tells me that he’s well-aware that his chance at healing is much, much bigger than mine. “But still. That doesn’t change the fact that I suddenly can’t walk down a hall without feeling completely out of breath. And that I have to sit still in a chair for hours letting a machine clean my blood, because my kidneys are failing to do their job. And that I have to be careful not to fall, because my bones have become much more brittle than they used to be.” He takes a deep, trembling breath. “My injuries being less visible than yours doesn’t change the fact that my life has been turned upside down as well. And, just like you, that scares me to death.”

I turn to Hinata to see that tears brim his eyes. That’s nothing like the smile he’s been showing me for the past days, acting like nothing’s wrong with him; of course there’s something wrong with him too, he’d be back in Miyagi if he was all okay again.

“But that doesn’t mean that I- we can just ignore what happened,” Hinata continues, gently squeezing my arm. “We shouldn’t ignore it, because it’s part of us now. All we can do is accept what we’ve gone through, embrace the help we can get from others, and learn to live with it the best we can.” He takes a slow breath, drying his tears. His eyes have some remaining brightness in them, I don’t know how he does that; keeping hope when everything seems to dark. But maybe, just maybe, I can try to allow some of that obnoxious optimism of him to rub off on me for once.

I nod once and tell him that he might be right. Not because I actually believe him, because I don’t know if I can ever fully accept what happened. But what I could use, is some of that hope that helps Hinata smile even in these terribly hard times in our lives.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Keishin Ukai
Wednesday, 08:00

A lot can happen in a week.

Seven days ago, I was running a store part time and the rest of the time I was a coach of volleyball team full of normal high school students. Five days ago, this all got turned completely around; I felt like I was going to lose at least half of my students, and I wasn’t even sure if I would survive this myself. Just four days ago, I just got out of surgery, with tubes in my nose because my collapsed lung made breathing Hell. I still remember the stinging of my chest each time I took a breath, like something was constricting it. And up to today, I wasn’t allowed to walk any further than to the bathroom down the hall supervised by either one of my visitors or a nurse.

It’d absurd how so much can happen in one week, and honestly, everything that has happened still keeps me awake all night, every night. It’s the times where the lights are off that make me wonder about everyone, how they are doing. I heard from Takeda, when he visited on Monday, before he headed back to Miyagi, that Asahi, Yamaguchi, Tanaka, Yachi and Kiyoko were heading back to school. Which is probably how Ennoshita, Kinoshita and Narita found out; they texted me yesterday, to say how sorry they were about what happened. Part of me, suddenly got really glad they had other business to attent to instead of the training camp.

I wish I had had that.

Though at the same time, I probably would’ve felt really guilty still; when survivors guilt can hit this hard when no one died, I bet it’s also awfully present when you weren’t even involved in the accident to begin with. I can only imagine the agony Ennoshita, Kinnoshita and Narita are going through because they weren’t in the accident whilst almost all of their teammates were. It must be a weird type of guilt.

My guilt is totally different from theirs. It’s the type that eats your emotions to the point that I feel nearly numb to the situation sometimes, and whenever it stops numbing me down for just a second, I feel like there’s the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders again. I would be lying if I said that I haven’t been crying at night. But only in the moments that no one can see.

I didn’t cry when Shimada and Takinoue first visited me, not even when my two friends were sobbing themselves. The same goes for when my closest family members finally got to Tokyo; they embraced me so tight and cried of worry. But despite the piercing pain that their embrace send through my broken ribcage, I didn’t whimper. Not even once.

My ribs have been getting better, and with the help of painkillers, they haven’t been giving me that much pain anymore. Maybe it’s all of the “get well soon” wishes that help me move through the pain and focus on the way it’s getting a little less with each day. Or maybe it’s because I simply want to get better, really badly and really quickly; I want to get strong enough to go get updates on everyone who was involved in the accident.

To some extend, I have been strong enough. Like yesterday, for instance, I spoke on the phone with Nekomata to thank him for allowing his students to look for us; they saved us, after all. When I asked how his students, and the other boys that were with them, are doing seeing the circumstances, he told me they’d seen a lot. They’d set up a counseling oppurtunity on the last day of training camp, where they found out that especially Kenma, one of his boys, had a hard time dealing with what he saw.

I can’t blame the guy. I don’t think I would ever forget it if I was his age. Or my age, for that matter.

Anyway, back to my own students; even Tsukishima was heading back to Miyagi, even though he wasn’t doing as good as the others. Sugawara, on the other hand, had decided to stay here. It told me enough about Daichi; he probably still isn’t doing great, if Sugawara refuses to go back home.

As for the news on my other students, I haven’t deemed myself strong enough to face them yet.

When Shimada and Takinoue still were here, they asked me if they should make a round through the hospital to see if they could get some information for me. I told them “no”. I didn’t want to hear from someone else how Kageyama, Hinata, Daichi and Nishinoya were doing. I wanted to be strong enough to visit them, hear it from them, see it with my own eyes that they’re healing. I still want that.

That’s why, through the veil of exhaustion and numbness the sleepless nights have casted over me, there’s still a spark of excitement when Dr Haiiro visits me during the morning rounds and tells me that she has good news. “We took a good look at your lungs.” She glances down at her chart before looking back up at me with a polite smile. “And they’re looking very good.”

I try to take a deep breath, but immediately burst out in coughs. Everything aches and squeaks like an old machine. I’ve been short of breath the entire time, and just laughing a bit too loud makes me go into a coughing fit. “They look good?” I ask in between cough-like-laughter of disbelief. Call me a cynic, but there’s no way these rusty lungs look good.

Dr Haiiro sighs shortly and rewords her sentence. “Considering that you have been a smoker for over 10 years-“ Just like everyone else she always remembers that fact about me. That’s probably because she thought the smoke of the fire in the bus is what caused my lungs to look this terribly charred, until she was informed about the fact that I started smoking to be “cool” when I was sixteen years old.

Looking back on it now, a stupid choice. Maybe my lung wouldn’t have collapsed if I hadn’t been ruining it for so many years. But bad habits are the hardest to break. I broke them, though. I haven’t smoked a single cigarette since they admitted me here. Mostly because I’m not allowed to, but also because deep down I know that it wouldn’t do me any good to smoke now. Or ever.

My lungs have gone through more than enough.

Yet, there’s still this part inside of me that thinks that if it wasn’t prohibited to smoke right now, I would’ve already gone through multiple packets of them. I’ve never been a chainsmoker, but the amount of panic cooped up inside of me surrounding the accident, has been making me want to take a drag of one so badly. I want to feel the smoke move down into my lungs, each time the nurses ask me to take a slow breath for them. I want to feel the nicotine, creating that addictive burst of relief, because I have not found anything that only takes a few seconds to make me feel not so damn stressed anymore. Yet, despite all of that, I don’t think I ever will smoke one again. I don’t think I can put my lungs through any more trauma, this body’s already had an overdose of that in the past days.

“-and you have breathed in smoke from a fire while suffering from a collapsed lung?” She pauses before adding, “Then, yes, your lungs look really good right now.”

“Great.” I breathe in through my nose, feeling a little puff of air being shot into my lungs. I still feel my entire insides aching each time I take a breath, but that could also be because of the broken ribs. In hindsight, maybe I shouldn’t have been standing up without my seatbelt on in a moving vehicle. But that, just like smoking for ten years, is one of those choices you only realize are poor once you have to deal with the consequences of them. “What does that mean for me?” I ask after a while, because I feel like telling that my shitty lungs look “good” isn’t the only reason why Dr Haiiro’s here.

She puts down the chart and smiles politely. “It means that you can start more intense physical therapy. Of course, we have to keep in mind that your ribs are still healing, so it will mainly be pulmonary rehabilitation,” she explains, but I can tell by her expression that this is not the only thing she wants to tell me. She had the same type of expression on her face when she had to tell me that I basically had a jackpot when it came to injuries; black lungs, collapsed lung, broken ribs and of course a couple of bruises and burns here and there. Oh, and she told me that, of all the people they could’ve called, they had contacted my grandfather, which felt like an extra injury added; he obviously immediately reminded me of how much of a disgrace it was that I, with twenty-six years old, was in need of an oxygen-tank much earlier than him. At least it’s one thing I beat him at, I guess.

This time, I just hope Dr Haiiro can tell me that I have a jackpot of good news instead.

She must see the anticipation on my face, because she doesn’t wait long before adding, “And, seeing as you won’t need immediate medical care anymore, you are free to choose to be transferred to a hospital closer to home. Maybe in a few more days, you could go home and get therapy outpatient.”

My smile falls.

So does my heart. At first I don’t quite know why there’s this deeprooted anxiety that immediately spreads through me, making me chest feel even more constricted than before. But it hits me soon enough why I can’t keep up the smile.

“That’s good news, mister Ukai,” Dr Haiiro reminds me.

But I simply cannot see it as good news.

Still, I force a smile and thank her for the good news. Because it is good that I am healing, right? I just don’t think that I’m ready to leave yet, which causes my entire body to start shaking and sweating as soon as I think about going back to Miyagi. Sure, my home and my life’s back there.

But so is the press that’s apparently already gotten hold of both Takeda and the students that have gone back to school. And there’s the village gossip, and my parents and grandpa, for whom I’ve made the conscious choice to tell them to go back home because they were stressing over my condition too much. I don’t think mom can handle having me crash on her couch when I’m still so far from being completely healthy again, her stress-levels can’t handle that.

Those are the first things that fly through my brain, all thoughts only sticking for miliseconds before piling up into one big ball of panic. And that ball will only get bigger and bigger, because these are only the small things that come with going back to Miyagi. Because, maybe the most important reason why I didn’t want to hear this news, is because my students are still here. I haven’t forgotten about Kageyama, Hinata, Daichi and Nishinoya. Just like I haven’t given up on my plans to train myself to walk far enough that I can drop by their rooms on my own. I still need to get strong enough to see how they’re doing, but not when I have to be wheeled there by some nurse; I don’t want to worry them. So I need to get strong, here, where they are too.

And now, I’m being asked to leave before I have visited them even once.

I don’t know if I want that- if I can do that, when I am the reason they are here in the first place.

It’s me who should be trapped here, inside this bed- inside this room, the longest.

Not them.

They don’t deserve to be punished with life-lasting injuries and a seemingly endless hospital stay. Not when they did nothing wrong. It just feels wrong for me to be discharged before them.

There are thoughts that flash through my head, along with the worries, with plans of how I can stay here. But with each stupid plan, everything only gets worse; my heart starts racing and my palms are damp as I form them into fists and try to push down the toxic ideas that cross my mind.

A voice carefully puncturing through my fears, turns down the volume on my loudest thoughts. “It’s up to you to make the choice, of course,” Dr Haiiro tells me after I’ve been silent for a while. She must’ve noticed that something’s out of the ordinary, because I’m usually not that bothered by my thoughts. I usually talk when I’m stressed out, I don’t get silenced by panic, I try to silence it instead. So, that’s how she knows me; talkative, sarcastic Keishin, especially since Shimada and Takinoue were here when she dropped by with updates the most often. And even when they were not here anymore, I’ve worked at a store ever since I graduated; I’ve mastered the art of making small talk with strangers by now.

But my fears and thoughts have silenced me now, though.

It’s an odd feeling to be overtaken by panic. I don’t think I have felt it this strong, because I’ve always been able to keep a semi-cool head under circumstances. Even after the crash, I had other things to keep me occupied that kept me from falling into blind panic for the most part. But that’s because I still felt like I had my fate in my own hands to some degree. But now?

Until the words “it’s your choice” leave Dr Haiiro’s mouth, I felt like it wasn’t up to me.

I look up at her; with those words, she’s grabbed my attention.

“If you’d prefer to stay here and get therapy from my colleagues upstairs, I won’t stop you.” She gives me a knowing smile; she’s obviously noticed the look on my face, she knows I don’t want to leave. “Just say the word and we’ll see what we can do for you.”

That constricting, breath-taking, tightness around my chest eases up a little. My mind goes quieter.

Fate is in my own hands again, so why should I give anxiety an overhand anymore?

I manage a smile and nod once. “I’ll think about it,” I say, because I am a responsible adult that doesn’t make such drastic decision as staying in a Tokyo hospital five hours away from home in a split second because of emotions. No, not at all. I’ll think about it; I’ll think about how badly I want to stay here, and next time she or a nurse drop by to check up on me, I’ll tell them that I’ve made my choice.

I am not leaving, not until I’ve been able to visit my students and tell them how sorry I am.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Asahi Azumane
Wednesday, 21:28

I lay on my bed, phone held above my head. I try to keep drawing calm breaths, even though this is the second time I’ve called Nishinoya; he didn’t pick up the when I called him just now. My heart is racing inside of my chest I stare at his profile picture with anticipation, praying he’ll pick up my video call this time. If he doesn’t, I’ll probably freak out; we’ve been calling yesterday and the day before around this time and he picked up straight away, but this time it takes him ages.

I’m worried. I mean, what if something happened? Maybe they weren’t easy enough on him during his check up or physical therapy this afternoon, and now he got hurt even more.

Maybe he died.

I shake my head, reminding myself how I promised myself, my parents and Nishinoya I wouldn’t let my thoughts spiral like that anymore. Nishinoya’s not dead. Paralyzed, yes, but according to what his doctors told him that’s not going to kill him anytime soon.

My breath comes to a jolting stop when my screen changes from the “calling” screen to something else. At first my entire screen lags a little, but sooner than later, Nishinoya’s face comes into view.

“Hey,” he says after rubbing in his eyes. Just like yesterday, the connection isn’t perfect, making his voice a little glitchy and the video very pixelly. Nevertheless, it’s not hard to see that he has dark circles under his eyes. He looks dead-tired.

“Hey!” I let out a sigh of relief, before rolling onto my stomach, resting my phone against the wall. “Did I wake you up?” He sure looks like he just woke up, either that or he hasn’t slept in days.

“Yeah, kinda.” Nishinoya’s chuckle sounds through the speakers of my headphones after a couple seconds. “I was just dozing off when I heard my phone. And it was on my bedside table, so I couldn’t reach it properly so-“ His expression goes a little grimmer. “Anyway, sorry I took ages to pick up.” He smiles. “Hope I didn’t worry you.”

I shake my head, even though that’s a bit of a lie. “Not at all.”

“Pfew.” Nishinoya lets out another chuckle, it seems forced, but maybe that’s just because of the lag on my phone or the fact that he’s barely awake. But it still worries me a little; he’s acting different from yesterday. Where he talked all evening about starting physical therapy today during yesterday’s call, he doesn’t seem very talkative today; I thought he would want to tell me all about it, without me asking. But it doesn’t appear that way.

“How are you feeling?” I ask after a short silence.

Nishinoya shrugs. “Low on battery. I didn’t know physical therapy would be this draining.”

I nod to myself. I guess that makes sense.

“Was it as good as you hoped, though?” I ask him, because he was all hyped up yesterday. He said that, as soon as his doctor told him that a physical therapist was dropping by for his first session somewhere today, he felt actually excited; he was going to be allowed to move again.

Nishinoya’s eyes dart away from the screen. “Yeah, it was good-“ He doesn’t need to look at me for me to see that he’s lying; I’ve known him long enough to know that he’s hiding something when he looks away like that. It’s clear that he didn’t actually think of the physical therapy as good.

I frown lightly. “D-Did something happen?”

“No, not at all!” he squeaks, waving with his hand so quickly that it makes my phone lag.

“You seem off, though,” I admit, even though it’s logical that Nishinoya would be “off”; he’s still getting adjusted to being paralyzed, it’s not something you get used to within a couple of days. It might take him another few months, maybe even years, to really accept what has happened.

He doesn’t look at the screen as he repeats, “It was so tiring.” His expression’s grim.

“We don’t have to call!” I immediately tell him, even though I’ve been looking forward to our call all day; school has been unbearable with everyone always staring at me whenever I’m all by myself. “You know, it’s okay if you want to get some rest! I can only imagine how exhausting it must’ve been to-“

“To have done barely anything?” Nishinoya takes a deep breath. “I’m exhausted while I have barely done anything at all. I thought-“ He shrugs. “I didn’t think it would drain me so much.”

I frown down at my screen. “What do you mean?”

“All this physical therapist did was moving my legs around, stretching and bending and massaging them, stuff like that.” He scoffs. “And when I asked him when he was going to teach me how to sit up, roll on my side and transfer into a wheelchair, stuff like that. You know what he said?” There’s frustration and pain is his voice when he says, “He said I wasn’t there yet by far; we should start with passive rehab.”

I stay silent for a moment, staring at Nishinoya’s face going red. I can tell that he’s holding back anger or tears, or both. “This physical therapist-“ I shake my head, disappointed. “He was wrong when telling you that. You’ll get there in no time, I promi-”

“I won’t.” Nishinoya’s eyes stare down at his lap. “I was so exhausted after those passive exercises that- I don’t think-“ Tears well up in his eyes, but he doesn’t allow them to spill. He shakes his head and, just like all those bad thoughts in his mind have disappeared, he fakes a smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spring all that on you.” He chuckles, but he can’t hide that sadness. “I’m just tired, I guess.”

I want to tell him that it’s okay to be frustrated or sad, but who am I to tell him that; if I were in his shoes, I probably wouldn’t show him my fear and frustration either. Just like I am hiding my pain right now, because he might not know this, but seeing him like this hurts me too. Not that I’m blaming him for acting like he is doing, he’s grieving and he has a right to, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt me to see someone who’s usually so cheerful be so extremely heartbroken.

“Yeah, I can imagine,” is all I manage to say after a couple of seconds.

“Anyway-“ Nishinoya continues. “How are you?”

“Also tired,” I admit. “It’s been a long day.” It has been, but probably not even close to how tiring and long his must’ve been. It almost feels wrong to wine about my own problems when I’m back in Miyagi, back at school, with no physical aftermath of the crash apart from a little ache every now and then. I have no right to complain, not when I am responsible for putting Nishinoya in the situation he’s in.

So instead of telling him all about the stares I got, and the way my parents and our teachers act all weird around me, like they might break me if they say one wrong word, I fake a yawn. “How about ending our call early?” I don’t want to, but it feels like the better choice; we’re both in a terrible mood and I’ve got a feeling this call might end in crying, fighting or both if we keep going for much longer.

“Sounds like a great plan,” Nishinoya replies, nodding slowly. “I could use some extra sleep tonight.”

“Same here.”

“So, see you tomorrow?” He smiles carefully.

I nod once. “See you tomorrow.” I return the smile before waiting for him to end our call. Just like I did yesterday and the day before. But this time it feels different when Nishinoya presses the red button and ends our call. I stare at my screen, barely able to read the words “call ended” through my tears.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper in between sobs, even though I know my words won't reach Nishinoya. "This is all my fault."

Anger rises in my chest when I think about everything Nishinoya's forced to go through, all because I made the stupid choice to carry him while he had clearly hurt his back. It's my fault that just some small stretches are asking so much effort that he's exhausted after doing them, it's my fault that he won't walk again.

I stare at my phone. "It's all my fault." My body starts to tremble as I repeat it over and over and over again. "It's my fault. My fault. My fault!" Louder and louder each time.

My breathing gets faster, my heart rate as well. The world around me seems to blur on the edges.

Until eventually, I'm dragged back to reality by a pair of arms wrapping around me.

"It's okay, little bro," my sister whispers in my ear, her calm voice urging me to stay in the here and now instead of letting my thoughts drift off to Lord knows where. She must've been in her room, with these thin walls it's no miracle she heard my screaming. Just like she and my parents have been doing each time I wake up from my nightmares in the middle of the night, she rushed to my side right way.

She pulls my head against her chest and combs with her fingers through my hair. "It's okay."

I close my eyes. Tears slip down my cheeks as I listen to her heartbeat and try to breathe along to her rising and lowering chest.

Slowly but surely, my breathing starts to get slower again. Deeper breaths reaching my lungs completely.

"Thank you," I whisper in between slow breaths. "Sorry, I don't know what got over me."

She strokes my hair another time before just resting her hand on my head. "Don't apologize. You've been through a lot."

I nod once. It's not nothing, surviving a car crash, not even when you made it out with no injuries at all.

"Still, thank you," I tell her. Because I am very thankful for how understanding she and my parents have been. I mean, they have always stood by me, even though they had to deal with my occasional freak-outs about random stuff. Things they never had to do when it came to my older sister, who, unlike me, has always been calmth itself.

I lay my head down on her lap and look up at her through my tears.

She smiles down at me. It's not a happy smile, more sympathetic. After a short silence she whispers, "You look tired."

I can tell that she's just trying to distract me, but I decide to go along with it. "I am tired."

"Then why are you still up?"

"I was calling with Nishinoya, but-" He hates me. "-he was very tired as well, so we decided we should both get some rest."

She nods once and asks me why I don't do that then. "It sounds like a fool-proof plan; catching some extra sleep never hurt anyone."

"Hmhm," I hum in approval, even though I know extra sleep might hurt me, as it gives me more time to have nightmares about the accident. "You're right." I roll off her lap and place my head onto the pillow instead.

She gets up and drapes the blanket over me. As soon as the warm coziness of the blanket falls over my body, sleepiness also washes over me. I close my eyes and listen to her telling me to sleep well.

And by the time I hear her footsteps walk away, I'm already so fast asleep that I don't hear the door closing behind her.

-○-

I wake up to shouting, and for the first time in days, it’s not my own screams that cause me to jolt upright. It’s not Nishinoya’s gut wrenching shrieks I often hear in my nightmares either.

This time, the shouts are slightly muffled by my pillow and the walls surrounding me, but that doesn’t keep me from hearing my sister, father and mother having a loud conversation downstairs. Hearing dad’s voice echo through the house, my mom crying and my sister screaming back at him, isn’t something I had witness that often. Mom and dad have always been a happy couple, they barely ever even fought. And while my sister had her occasional outbursts towards them or me when she was still a teenager, ever since she hit her twenties, she has calmed down a lot and in the past year there weren’t any fights at all.

Up to now, it seems.

When I hear my name sounding through the walls, a sudden sadness creeps up on me. I don’t want them to fight about me. Why are they even mentioning me, when I’m not even there?

I crawl out from underneath the blankets. The floor is cold underneath my bare feet and chills are being sent down my spine as I make my way towards the door. With my ear pressed up against the door, I can hear them just enough to understand every word they say, especially when they’re shouting like this. I’ve learned this at a very young age, since I used to dislike going downstairs when we had visitors over; I always checked by putting my ear up against the door and listened for unfamiliar voices.

As soon as my ear presses up against the cold wood of the door, I hear their voices reaching me.

“What do you mean, he doesn’t need it!” my sister shouts. “Look at him, dad!”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t need it-“ My dad groans, clearly frustrated. “I’m saying we should give him some personal time to heal before- before- you know.”

“You’re just scared, dad.”

“I’m not scared!” he shouts back. “I’m just looking out for him. I mean, what if his classmates-“

My sister lets out an annoyed growl before telling my dad it’s not about my classmates. To which mom agrees; it’s about me.

What is about me? I frown, because I have no clue what the Hell they’re talking about.

“Fine!” Dad gives in, his voice loud and frustrated when he tells mom and my sister, “Fine, suit yourself, force him to see a therapist. If that’s what you want.”

My breath catches in my throat. Tears well up in my eyes. They actually think I need a therapist that badly? I don’t need that. I’ve always been a bit panicky, they know that; I’ll get over this. Just like I got past all the stress I’ve had about parties, tests, switching schools, volleyball matches. Never did they feel the need to force me to see someone to get some grip on my anxiety. Sure, mom mentioned it, more than just once, but she also knows I don’t want that. I don’t want to be that kid that sees someone every few weeks to talk about his problems when he’s leading just a normal life, just because that normal life gives him more stress than it does for others. I don’t want that.

“Thank you,” my sister responds. Her voice is more careful when she adds, “God, I just hope this is going to make him happy again.”

“Me too, darling.” Mom agrees, the fact that she’s crying can be heard in her voice. “Me too.”

Do they actually see me as that unhappy? They think I need professional help? I’m fine.

I’ll be fine.

My breathing gets faster and faster when I realize how much I’ve been worrying them with my behavior lately. I rest my head up against the wall and close my eyes. Shallow gasps make their way to my lungs. Tears slip down my cheeks. “I didn’t mean to-“ I whisper in between careful sobs. I never wanted to upset them. I curl up in a little ball and listen to my own crying, to their voices trying to decide how and when they are going to tell me. Not ask me, tell me, that I need to see someone who’s going to help me deal with the trauma I’ve gone through. Like I might break without it.

Well. They don’t have to tell me anymore.

I already know what they think I need; soon, I will be talking to someone about my problems.

Because with everything that’s been going on since the accident, I’m not living a normal life, not anymore. And now they don’t see therapy as just an option.

They see it as a must.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Shouyou Hinata
Thursday, 06:00

Every morning since the accident I wake up to nurse Sato doing his morning rounds at ass in the morning. He opens up the curtains to let in the light, puts my bed upright, carrying a tray filled with all sorts of colorful pills and see-through fluids. I asked him once what they were for, because mom has taught me to always ask what’s in pills before allowing people to put random things in my body.

That, and I was pretty curious.

That’s how I found out that the bags of what looks like water they give me through my arm every day, is actually filled with all sorts of things. Antibiotics, to make sure I don’t get infections and medications with tough names that have to do with the blood they gave me, since I lost too much of my own. And of course, fluids, because I lost a lot of water, salt and nutrition too, according to nurse Sato.

On top of that there are a dozen of pills I need to take, some of them with the same purpose as others. There are colorful ones, ranging from a see through yellow to a bright blue, to strengthen my bones, give me extra vitamins, to help my red blood cells to stay high enough. And then there’s a couple of white ones, which- to be honest, I still have no clue why I have to take three of them with each meal I eat. Something about stuff from my bones getting into my bloodstream. I hope it isn’t as scary as it sounds. The pills and the dialysis are supposed to help that stuff get out of my bloodstream again.

Last but certainly not least, there are also painkillers, because I’ve come to the realization that without them the cut they made in my stomach really freaking hurts.

So, all of those, I take every morning, afternoon and evening with a gulp of water. And afterwards, nurse Sato always slices an apple for me, to get something in my stomach with the meds.

That’s how it has been every morning up to today. Because when I wake up to the rising sun being let into my room, it’s not just nurse Sato who’s in my room. There’s no tray of medication and no slices of apples this time. It takes me a second, but I soon remember the conversation Akihiko, mom and I had yesterday. Today will be completely different from usual, because I have a surgery planned.

“Good morning, Hinata,” nurse Sato greets me, showing me a kind smile. “Did you sleep well?” He’s probably asking me, because I was really nervous yesterday, after mom and I had a conversation with Akihiko about a surgery being needed, because of some scans they took.

They showed me a picture of what they were about to do and it looked scary. It looked like they were making a bloodvessel in my arm a lot bigger, so they could enter it more easily. I get a little squeamish when thinking back to the image of the two needles with tubes being pricked into my skin. Especially since they’re just so easy to attach to something called a venous catheter that’s in my chest. When Akihiko told me that they needed to stitch a vein and an artery together, because that would be a better access-point for the dialysis, all I could do was ask “why?”. It looks and sounds so much more painful than the access point they made in my chest earlier this week.

I know I have already had that surgery, along with the one to stop me from bleeding out, ealier week, but with that one I didn’t get the chance to be nervous. So, when I heard I needed another one, I got so nervous that my stomach barely even allowed me to eat anything. That’s how much it was aching from the nerves.

I also didn’t sleep in fast, but once I did, I slept like a log. “Pretty good, yeah.” I nod once.

“I’m glad to hear so.” There’s still a smile on nurse Sato’s face, I haven’t ever seen him not smile. I guess that’s why he’s a nurse on this ward, because people under eighteen often prefer kind, smiling nurses, rather than the grumpy or grim-looking ones. Nurse Sato’s definitely not the latter.

Still half asleep, I watch nurse Sato as he checks some things on the machinery around me. He always writes down a lot in the first moment of the day, all kinds of things he can read off of the lines and numbers displayed on the small screens. I asked him about it once, but even after he explained it to me, I still don’t understand how he knows what everything means.

He turns back to me and asks, “Not nervous anymore, then?”

I chuckle nervously. “Very nervous!” I admit. I can already feel my stomach ache creeping up on me again, but that could also be because I am extremely hungry. But I can’t eat, since I have to go into surgery on an empty stomach. That’s also why I’m not allowed to take most of my medication.

“I can imagine yeah,” he replies, while he kneeling down beside me. Carefully, he lifts the blanket off me, because he needs to check whether everything is alright before they take me into surgery.

I wince when a sudden cold washes over me. Or maybe what causes my uncontrolled grimace, is the fact that I still kind of dislike looking at all the medical stuff that usually hides underneath my blankets or a hoodie and a pair of oversized sweatpants. There’s the surgical wound, which is now still hiding underneath a clean bandage, but I know that it’ll have to be cleaned within the next few minutes. My stomach is still completely black and blue, because of the bleeding that happened inside of it.

There’s also a large bag taped to my leg, which collects all my pee of the day. Not because I can’t use the toilet without it; I can easily walk to the bathroom, especially since there’s one just across the room. Nurse Sato told me that it’ll be temporary, because they have to keep track of how much urine there’s in the bag, how it looks and stuff like that, since that tells them a lot about my kidney’s health.

My legs are all swollen. I wonder if that’s where all the fluid that I don’t pee out goes to, but I feel like that would make sense, because there’s not much in the bag at all. And what is inside of it looks brown rather than yellow.

“Should I be?” I ask him, to which he immediately replies that it’s only a small surgery.

At first I thought I shouldn’t distract the nurse when he was doing these morning check-ups. But throughout the past couple of days, I’ve come to know that nurse Sato, unlike me, is very good at multitasking. Making complete conversations while checking and cleaning my surgery wound and bruises and emptying the catheter bag that has been taped to my leg.

“Still I can understand why you’d be nervous,” he continues. “Many people would be.”

“I definitely know I am.” That’s partially because they gave me time to freak out this time, but also because Akihiko told me that I’d be awake during the surgery I’m having today. I was knocked out during my first surgeries ever, which all happened past Friday. And I am so glad I was, because I don’t know if I’d wanted to be awake while they cut into my stomach, inserted a large tube into a vein in my chest and inserted a catheter – which, considering the location of said catheter, really seems like something that you don’t want to be awake to see. But well, I also kind of don’t want to be awake while they slice into my arm to stitch my artery and vein together.

I get squeamish at just the thought.

Nurse Sato seems to notice, because he immediately tells me that he thought I’d be nervous. “That’s why I invited a special visitor to come by before the surgery. He’s the sur-“

A sudden knock on the door interrupts nurse Sato in the middle of his sentence.

“Ah speak of the devil!”

The door slides open to reveal a short, old man with grey hair and glasses.

Nurse Sato glances from me to the doctor who’s standing in the doorway, before turning back to me. “This is the surgeon who’ll be performing your surgery today,” he explains, while finishing up my check-up by placing a new bandage around the surgical wound in my stomach. “So if you have any questions about how today’s surgery going to go, you can ask him.” He rises to his feet, before saying that he’ll leave us to it.

After the door softly closes behind nurse Sato, the old man in a blue uniform and white coat smiles kindly before introducing himself as Dr Piasu, a vascular surgeon.

“Hey,” I reply. “I’m Shouyou Hinata.” I always tell everyone my name, even though I know they already have read that in the big file they carry around every time they visit me. I don’t know what else to say.

Dr Piasu takes a seat beside me, on the chair, before asking me how I’m feeling.

“Pretty nervous,” I tell him. My hands are already starting to shake at the thought; it seems I get more nervous each time I tell people how nervous I am. It makes me wonder, will I even be able to lay still while they cut into me, or will I be trembling too much three hours from now?

He smiles and nods. “I thought so, but I promise you, those sixty minutes will fly by.”

Sixty minutes!? I stare at Dr Piasu with large eyes. Akihiko said it’d be a short surgery, so I expected it to be five, maybe ten minutes tops. Not an entire hour!

How do they expect me to lay still for that long? I don’t have a track record of being able to sit still for long; my elementary school teachers always joked that they had to glue me to my chair if they wanted me to stop swaying and walking around.

“And you won’t feel a thing,” he promises.

“Sure?” I don’t belief him, because so many people have told me I won’t feel a thing of many different things. But each time my painkillers wear off, I feel like I’m dying.

He nods determinedly. “And if you do feel something, you can just tell us and we’ll give you some more anesthetics.” He pauses shortly before asking me if Akihiko has already told me and my mom a little about how the surgery is going to go.

I shake my head. Not because Akihiko hasn’t explained anything, because he has explained a lot to us, but mainly because I didn’t have the concentration to listen. That’s because he opened the conversation by telling mom and me that he had good news and bad news; the bad news being that they saw, on scans, that my kidneys were failing despite them expecting that my young and previously healthy kidneys would just start healing themselves. Meaning I’ll be much more reliant on the hours-long dialysis rounds I got three times this week. I’d probably not get off them, not within a couple of weeks or months at least. I thought this wouldn’t be a problem, since they’d been hooking me up to the machine every other day now with the help of this strange tube they inserted soon after we arrived in the emergency room. According to Akihiko the venous catheter, these two strange tubes that now hang from my chest, were supposed to be a temporary thing. They would just take them off once they’d weaned me off the dialysis, but since that won’t be an option anytime soon, they need a more long term way to hook me up to the machine for my rounds. This meant another surgery.

This sounded like terrible news, already getting me way too distracted to pay attention to his explanations about what they were going to do during this surgery.

But it’s the good news that really caused my attention span to get lowered to zero.

Akihiko told me that, if this surgery is successful, I’d probably be able to go home by Saturday, since we live near a hospital that does dialysis treatments three mornings a week. As soon as those words left his mouth, I was distracted; thinking about sleeping in my own bed again, hugging the crap out of my sister after not seeing her in an entire week, and of course, seeing everyone who’s already gone home again. My thoughts spiraled towards the sad parts of the good news, like not being able to see Kageyama as much anymore, since he’ll probably still be here for another while. Which kind of resulted in me ending up not hearing most of what Akihiko explained.

That’s why I’m kind of glad that Dr Piasu’s here to take me through the steps another time. His voice is slow and calm as he explains how they’ll start off by making sure that I won’t feel anything, by giving me local anesthetics. “Once we’re sure that you won’t feel a thing, we’ll start the surgery and place the arteriovenous fistula.” He reaches out to my left arm, carefully taking hold of it. “We’ll make a small incision here-“ He slides over the skin just underneath the inside of my elbow, leaving a cold mark where his fingers have been. “-because we saw that you have a nice and large vein there.”

I suddenly realize why Akihiko was looking at my arm with an echo-machine yesterday; he told me about the nice and large vein. I think he also told me why they needed it to be a large and accessible one. I was distracted by the freezing cold gel, though, so I don’t really remember.

“We need a large vein,” Dr Piasu explains. “Because it gives us easy access to your blood, which has to go from your body, into the dialysis machine, and back into your bloodstream.” That is something Nurse Sato had already explained to me before, the first time I was actually awake and talking during my dialysis. I got curious as to why I needed it and what it was doing. He explained that, what the machine basically does is, filter waste products from my blood; something that my kidneys usually do, but since they were bruised, and now failing, they aren’t doing that properly anymore.

“After that, we can access the vein and artery and create the access point for your dialysis.”

I nod. This time, listening to every word Dr Piasu is saying. Because a little under three hours from now, I will be lying on that surgical table, and it is debatable how ready I’ll actually be.

-○-

I look around the operating room, my stomach feeling a little achier with every second that passes. I’m not sure if that’s because of the fact that I ate nothing since yesterday evening, or because I’m lying on a table with my arm stretched out completely.

There are a couple of nurses in the room, along with Dr Piasu, who’s putting on a pair of blue gloves. I watch their every move, because even though Dr Piasu told me everything he would be doing from the moment they gave me anesthesia, he didn’t tell me what would happen before. That’s why it caught me off guard when a nurse started placing a really tight type of belt around my upper arm.

That was a couple of seconds ago. She told me it was going to feel a little strange and tingly after all short while, and I can say with certainty that she’s right; my entire left arm is stinging, like it does when you’ve accidentally laid on top of your arm all night. It’s actually pretty painful.

Now, again completely catching me off guard, one of the nurses hands Dr Piasu a big syringe. I know he told me I’d be getting local anesthesia through a syringe. But I thought it would be the size of the small ones they use for vaccines, this one looks like it could be a murder weapon.

“Alright,” Dr Piasu says, turning to me with the syringe in hand. “You’ll be feeling a little sting, but I promise, this will be the most painful part of the entire surgery.” It doesn’t sound soothing.

I nod once, swallowing thickly.

There’s this painful sting when the needle goes into my arm. And as Dr Piasu squeezes the content into my arm, everything goes this odd kind of cold before turning completely numb.

I don’t actually feel how numb it is, until Dr Piasu uses the back of a little knife to scrape over it, asking me if I feel it. I don’t even feel that it’s touching me. Which, I admit, is absurd and amazing at the same time. Very quickly, my mind wanders off, to Nishinoya. Wondering if this is all he feels in his legs.

I take a slow breath and urge myself back to reality; I promised myself I wouldn’t get sad. We’re all alive after all! We should be grateful, not all depressed. Right?

“Then we’ll start.” Dr Piasu turns around the small knife, now facing my skin with the sharp end.

I promised myself I would follow each move he makes, prepare myself for the next. But I still find myself turning away from the sight even before the knife touches my skin. I stare at the ceiling and tell myself over and over again that I won’t feel a thing; I swear I can feel them cutting into my arm, though. But maybe that’s just my imagination.

My breaths start to get faster and faster.

A nurse moves into view, smiling compassionately. “Does it hurt?”

I think about shaking my head, but then again, what if I move my arm if I do that. I say “no” instead.

“That’s a relief.” She chuckles, before taking a seat beside me. “In that case, why don’t you tell me about something fun.” When I don’t respond immediately, she asks, “I heard you’d be heading home this weekend? Someone waiting for you there?”

I smile wide. “I definitely have!” I tell her about the part of my team that’s already back in Miyagi. And about how I can’t wait to talk with them in real life again, I’ve only been able to video chat with them so far. And I tell her all about how badly Natsu must want me and mom to come home. Not because she dislikes staying at our grandma, but because apparently she’s been asking to speak to me on the phone daily, but mom thinks it’s better if she doesn’t. It’s better if she sees me in real life, when I’m not lying in a hospital bed, because that way she will be able to see that I’m actually feeling pretty okay.

And the nurse, well, she asks me all about all sorts of things. Keeping me distracted from the weird sensations that are going on inside my arm.

“There you go,” Dr Piasu says after a while. “Just the stitches left to go and then you are good to go.”

I turn over to Dr Piasu and ask, “Really? Is it already over? Did it go well?”

He nods once without looking up from my arm. “You did amazing,” he promises, his eyes smiling.

I turn back to the ceiling and proudly smile at myself. Well, maybe surgery isn’t so bad after all.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Tobio Kageyama
Friday, 12:13

“I have great news, Kageyama.” Nurse Aiuchi sounds all perky as she walks into my room around lunch time. There’s a tray of hospital food in her hands and a wide smile on her face.

I stare at her, slightly frowning as I wonder why she keeps doing that; she’s always talking when she walks into rooms. It’s almost like she doesn’t expect people will wake up from her voice when she speaks. Maybe it’s because most people in the ICU are unconscious, like Daichi; they don’t get startled and they don’t jump when someone walks into the room without a warning.

I do. Each time nurse Aiuchi makes her way into my room, I swear it feels like I have a heart attack.

Her smile grows bigger when she lays eyes on me. “Guess what?” she quizzes.

“I don’t know,” I grumble under my breath. All I know is that I’m exhausted and haven’t been able to sleep properly for days, because of the nightmares that haunt me each night. Seems like the only good news she could be having for me would be that they added sleeping pills to my daily meds. But I doubt that’s the case, seeing as she gave me a lecture about the dangers of sleeping medication when I asked her about it some time ago.

She walks around my bed, leaving me in anticipation as she pulls the overbed table closer to me and places the food on top of it. After that, she sits down beside me on my chair. While she’s busy setting the head my bed upright with help of a remote control, she explains why she’s so cheerful. “Remember how I told you, a while back, that we’d be looking into skin grafts for your burns?”

I manage a small nod. I vaguely remember her telling me about it; something about removing the dead skin that the burns caused, and taking skin from other areas of my body to place it over my wounds. It all sounded a little crazy, especially considering fifty percent of my body is burned and I have less than fifty percent of my skin on the other half. It sounded like a fantasy to use skin grafts.

“Well, I just spoke to our plastic surgeon,” she continues, while placing the rim of the table against my chest. Now that the place of food is close enough I can more easily reach it with my left hand.

For the first days, nurse Aiuchi would assist me with eating; normally a job a family member would do, but I still refuse to let my sister back in after all she’s done. Plus, I bet she’s headed back to Miyagi by now. But since we’re almost week further, nurse Aiuchi now wants me to start practicing with using my left arm. This includes eating by myself, with little to no support from her.

I take a hold of the spoon, not even thinking about using the chopsticks they provided; I can barely even get a bite size of rice onto the spoon using my left hand. Doing things with left as a natural right-handed person isn’t easy at all, but I have no choice. My hand shakes so much as I take it to my mouth, that I have to move very slowly to make sure the bite actually makes it into my mouth.

Just eating demands so much concentration, that I barely even hear nurse Aiuchi talks to me. It just reaches me that she said that, after the grafts are placed, the bandages will gradually come off, after I place the bite of rice into my mouth and lower the spoon. I immediately almost choke on the rice.

A coughed “what?” makes it from my mouth.

“They want to start taking off your bandages.” She smiles shortly, almost as if she actually thinks this is good news.

It doesn’t sound to pleasurable to me; they put those bandages around me for a reason. They make me go through excruciating, daily bandage changes all over my body, because I need them. Compressions to make sure I didn’t swell up any more than I already did and antiseptic gauzes and bandages to make sure nothing dirty got into my wounds. I need them.

I’m not ready to have them gone, even if it’s a slow process.

“But-“ I frown down at my plate and swallow thickly. “It’s only been one week.”

“That’s right, but they think it’s best to place the grafts sooner rather than later.” Nurse Aiuchi nods to herself. “That’s a good thing,” she promises me. “The sooner they start, the better you’ll heal.”

I shrug once. It’s not like I care much for the skin grafts, I still don’t even know if I want any; it won’t make the pain go away. And it definitely won’t give me my leg and fingers back. All they’re going to do is completely ruin the small bit of healthy skin I still have left.

“They’ll be visiting you later today to discuss their plan with you. Hear out any wishes you might have.”

“Wait-“ My head snaps towards her. I immediately regret the quick movement when a sting shoots down my right shoulder. The skin is always so tense that I can barely even move. “They’ve already made a plan? I thought-“ I don’t want them gone yet. “I don’t know.”

Nurse Aiuchi nods carefully before telling me that the sooner they take them off, the better. “The parts that aren’t as burned are starting to heal, slowly. But those deep ones-“ She shakes her head. “If your skin is healing the wrong way, leaving it untreated for too long will get really painful; this is the best time to fix it, if needed.”

I lower my gaze and nod once. It sounds logical, but that doesn’t mean I like it.

She hesitates before asking, “I know I have asked you this before, but do you have someone we can call for you?” Her eyes go a little darker when I shake my head. “A family member? Close friend?”

“I don’t need anyone, okay?” I grumble.

“I’m not saying this to scare you, but skin grafts, and slowly removing some of the bandages, it won’t be painless. Nor will it be to have your healing wounds out in the open. Not physically, but not mentally either.” She takes a deep breath before admitting, “We strongly advise against making yourself go through this on your own. So please-”

“I can do this alone!” I’ve been going through excruciating bandage changes each morning; rolling them off my entire body, cleaning my burns, putting new ones around them. It’s an agonizing and endless process that I go through each and every day.

Alone.

I take a deep breath, sighing as I exhale. “Can you just leave-“ It comes out sounding more harsh than I’d meant it too, so I quickly add a “please”. I glance over to see nurse Aiuchi nodding once, before politely following up my order. She gets up, walks towards the door and again tells me to think about it, before closing it behind her.

I stare at the door, feeling my entire body shiver. At first I blame the anger that rises up in my chest, but I soon realize that that’s not what I’m feeling deep inside. I’m terrified.

I really don’t like admitting it, but Aiuchi’s right; I don’t want to go through this on my own. But at the same time she’s wrong to think that everyone has someone. I literally do not have anyone; my parents left me. The only people I have are my sister with my grandpa, who died a few weeks after Miwa’s eighteenth birthday. She was barely even able to get custody of me, otherwise I would’ve gone into the foster system.

We don’t have any other family apart from each other.

She’s the only family they could possibly call and normally I’d tell them to. But right now, I don’t think I could stand being near her. She couldn’t stand being near me.

As for friends. I’ve never been especially amazing at making them. Apart from my team, I have no one, and none of the ones that aren’t half-dead, are going to drive back to Tokyo to be with me. They have bigger problems than me. Better friends within the team too. Well, apart from-

Hinata. It feels like a saving grace to realize that I have him. He stuck with me throughout my worst moments when we were still stranded in the middle of nowhere; he’s probably the main reason why I’m alive. And even now, when my life’s not on the line anymore, he visits every time he can.

I reach out to my bedside table and grab my phone. With shaking fingers, I go to our chat and press video call, knowing that if I ask him to drop by this afternoon, he won’t tell me “no”.

It only takes two rings for him to pick up his phone, his face filling up the screen with a bright smile. “Hey!” Just as always, he sounds so happy to see me.

“Hi,” I reply, immediately unsure of how to start this conversation. Do I just ask him to drop by this afternoon to help me get through that conversation with the plastic surgeon? Does the rest follow? It feels wrong to just spring that on him, and I don’t know how to ask him without scaring him off; Hinata doesn’t seem to be the biggest champ when it comes to blood and wounds. He told me that he almost passed out the nurse changed his bandage, which only covers this small cut on his belly.

So, instead I settle on, “How are you?”

“Pretty shitty.” He looks worse than yesterday, too. Paler and more tired. “My arm has been hurting so freaking much ever since the anesthetics took off somewhere tonight!”

Shit. My entire plan starts to tear at the edges when I remember Hinata had a surgery just yesterday. That’s also the reason he couldn’t drop by yesterday; they had to monitor him closely for the hours afterwards, so we just called on the phone instead. I don’t know how I could’ve forgotten about it. Especially since he wouldn’t shut up about everything that happened in the operating room.

“But they gave me some new painkillers just now, so I think I’ll feel a little better later,” Hinata tells me. He pauses shortly, looking at me like he’s expecting me to say something. When I don’t, he says, “Anyway, you look pretty shitty yourself. So how are you feeling?”

“Thanks.” I frown, frustrated that Hinata can never just think before he speaks. But then again, maybe it’s his lack of a filter that’s been getting me through these days. It’s what might get me through this rough patch too, if I have the guts to ask him to drop by today. And, maybe, stay. I urge myself to take a slow breath and get myself to calm down, before telling him what they’re planning to do today.

“What?”

I swear! Does this guy ever listen when I talk?

“They want to get rid of my bandages, slowly. Over the next few weeks, I think,” I repeat. I expect him to say something, but when he doesn’t, I go on. Immediately skipping towards the part where I, with very much tact if I say so myself, ask him if he could please stand by me, until it’s all a little easier. “Because I need someone by my side when they do this,” I admit.

Hinata opens his mouth, staring at me through the screen. For a moment I’m convinced our connection broke, but just when I’m about to ask him if he can hear me, he speaks. The words “I can’t” leaving is mouth in that completely inconsiderate stupid-

Stay calm, Tobio. I remind myself. With that, I’m able to very calmly ask him “why not?” even though I’m about to explode right now. I mean, how could he say no when I asked him so kindly.

“Because I‘m heading home tomorrow,” he explains. “Remember?”

I couldn’t forget that either, because I hate it.

“I can’t stay here for a few more weeks.” Hinata doesn’t seem to like it that much either. Not the fact that he’s leaving – I know he truly wants to go back home, and I can’t blame him – but having to tell me that he can’t be there for me. His sad expression looks almost unnatural on him. “I’m sorry.”

I lower my gaze and carefully shake my head. “I understand.” I can’t manage to say that it’s okay, though, because part of me knows that it’s not. I don’t know what to do now. Do it on my own? I heard nurse Aiuchi’s warning, and I understand every word she said; I don’t want to do this alone.

“You know-“ Hinata carefully says after a short while. “-you could ask Miwa, right?”

I look up at my phone to see if he’s joking; his expression is dead serious. I shake my head. “I shouldn’t.” I don’t even know if it’s still my anger towards her that’s keeping me from calling her, or if it’s more because I said such inconsiderate things to her face last time we spoke. “She’s probably already back in Miyagi anyway.” That, also, sounds like a mere excuse.

“She isn’t, though.”

I frown down at my screen. “Huh?”

“She’s not back in Miyagi.” Hinata shakes his head. “She’s staying at a hotel, just a few streets away.”

“Wait-“ This is all a lot, all at once. “She’s here?”

“That’s what I just said yeah, pay attention, Kageyama!” Hinata rolls with his eyes.

“But how do you know that?”

“She’s been texting me, asking me how you are, of course!” Hinata pauses before saying, “She still cares, you know? You’re her little brother, Kageyama; if you call her, she will come.”

I blow of a huff of air and lower it onto the pillow. A small smile, not sure if it’s a happy for a sad one, makes it onto my face as I whisper, “She still cares.” I didn’t ruin everything.

I raise my head from the pillow and look at Hinata. His eyes go all sparkly and happy when I thank him. “So much-“ I go silent, not sure how to end this conversation. But I have to. Soon.

“So?“ Hinata says after a short silence. His eyes are filled with anticipation when he asks, “Are you going to call her, or not?”

“Yeah.” I nod once. “I have to go. Okay?”

“Don’t even ask! Go! Go!” With those words he hangs up, leaving me with one order.

I have to call my sister.

-○-

Miwa arrived at my room mere minutes before a second knock on the door sounds. She just took off her coat, and now she’s sitting down beside my bed in complete silence. Her eyes don’t look at me and “hey” has been the only thing she has said to me since she entered my room.

It’s not that it took her so long to get here, we only got off the phone ten minutes ago. It was me, who’s at fault for her arriving at my room at half past two instead of half past twelve. I went back and forth on what to ask her, and whether I should even call her, for such a long time. I just didn’t know what I would say; would I apologize for screaming at her? Or would I just ask her to come over?

I ended up sending her a text instead, unable to find myself capable of calling her. All the text said was “I’m getting skin grafts soon and won’t let me do it without someone to be with me.”

After that, it took her mere seconds to reply, promising she’d be there. Ten minutes later, she knocked on the door and let herself into my room. Her cheeks were red, still are; I tell myself it’s the cold and not because I made her cry like I did last time I saw her.

I glance at Miwa to see if she’s just as unready as I am, but she’s pretty hard to read, before turning my attention to the door. “Come in,” I mutter, even though I would rather say “go away and never return.”

The door opens to reveal a fairly tall, slender person in a white doctor’s coat. A dark undercut shows from underneath a small bleached ponytail; if you’d ask me, this surgeon looks nothing like the others I’ve seen. The doctor has smooth skin and a kind smile, and to be honest, it’s hard to tell what age this surgeon is. “Good afternoon. I’m Dr Haku, the plastic surgeon.”

“Tobio Kageyama,” I reply, giving the doctor a short nod.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kageyama.”

“Nice so meet you too-“ I pause, suddenly realizing I’m unable to figure out whether the plastic surgeon’s a dude or a girl. I mean, it’s a relief to see that they’re at least good-looking. I think that’s a soothing trait to have as a surgeon who decides over people’s appearances. “-sir?”

“Oh doctor’s just fine, thanks.” Their words tell me nothing at all. Dr Haku gives me a small smile, before turning to Miwa. “You must be Kageyama’s older sister, am I right?” As soon as Miwa nods, Dr Haku redirects their gaze back to me and says, “I understood that you were hesitant to call for help, I’m glad you decided to call her after all. It’s always better to have a loved by your side through this.” With those words, Dr Haku leans against the overbed table at the end of my bed.

I don’t think that’s what it’s supposed to be used for, but I do admit, it looks cozier than when surgeons just stand there. It always just gives off this serious vibe, reminding me of the moment I was told that they had amputated by leg. The atmosphere today is completely different and somehow less heavy, even though I know dead-well that after the plans are outspoken, everything will probably get even more difficult on me than it has been for the past week.

“Before I start, I’d like to know what Aiuchi already told you both about what I’ll be doing today?”

“Everything,” I say, but Miwa simultaneously says, “Nothing.”

“Alright.” Dr Haku nods a few times. “In that case, I’ll start from the top.”

When I open my mouth to protest against that, Dr Haku explains that it’s always important for the caregiver – Miwa, in this case – to also be aware of what will be happening. “That way she will know what to expect and how to support you. She can’t do that if she doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“After taking a look at Kageyama’s burns when he was just brought in, I immediately knew skin grafts would be needed. And, especially after seeing the pictures of how he’s healing, I think now would be the right time to start making specific plans.”

I frown lightly. No one ever told me that they had immediately brought in a plastic surgeon when I just got here; all I knew was that nurse Aiuchi makes pictures of my wounds every day. When I asked why, because I didn’t need to see them anyway, she said they were for my medical file.

“Can I ask something?” Miwa asks, not to me, but to Dr Haku. Once they nod, she asks, “When will he be getting the skin grafts? I Googled it some time ago, so, I though- isn’t it still too soon for that now?” It’s a question that never occurred to me. I also never looked anything up that they told me they wanted to try for treatment options; I was about to take them, just like I did with all the meds they pump into me on a daily basis; I just didn’t care. But Miwa does, I can hear the concern in her voice.

“Well, usually with superficial first and second degree burns we’d wait to see if burn wounds heal on their own. But in Kageyama’s case we’re dealing with burns over almost fifty percent if his body,” they explain. “While most of these burns are indeed superficial first and second degree burns, there are a couple of spots where the fire created deep second degree and even third degree burns.” Dr Haku takes a few steps towards me and uses their hand to point out some things, making sure not to even come near the bandages but instead carefully hovering over them. “For instance, there’s a third degree burn reaching all the way from here-“ They point at my arm, near my elbow. “-all the way to his hand.”

It makes sense. “I used it to shield myself from the fire.” It’s makes me a little sick to think back to it. All I wanted when I was stuck in that bus, was for the fire to stay away from me. But in the end, it’s my own actions that leaded to them being unable to safe my fingers on my right hand. They were too burned, because I had been so stupid that I tried to block the fire with my dominant hand.

Dr Haku nods once, sympathy in their eyes and they tell me it’s a normal response.

I still feel stupid, though. I should’ve known it would have consequences, but in that moment, I didn’t.

“The one on your arm is probably the one we’re most concerned about; it’s not going to heal without the skin grafts,” they continue, now talking to me rather than to Miwa. “But there are also a couple of smaller, but still pretty deep, burns on your leg, chest and face. There is a chance that some of those smaller ones could heal by themselves, but I’m planning to use grafts on those just to be sure.”

“I have a question,” I carefully say after a short silence. “Why use skin grafts for that if they could heal without it?” I don’t say it out loud, but it sounds controversial; taking skin from a healthy place to, maybe, do something that my body would’ve done without the help of a graft.

“Good question,” Dr Haku said, before explaining that not all skin grafts will be with the same purpose. “Like I said, your arm will not heal without the grafts. The smaller ones on your leg and face, which are mostly second degree burns, might. But your skin does that by creating a lot of scar tissue.”

I nod once, because it makes sense; my skin scars pretty easily, seeing as I still have scars on my knees from the days where I played a little too rough as a kid.

“While a small amount of scar tissue isn’t a problem most of the time, when your body produces large amounts of it – like it will do when healing these burn wounds – it can lead to various problems,” they explain. “For instance, scar tissue isn’t flexible at all and therefore can really restrict your movement and even lead to painful shrinking of the muscles below. And let’s be honest, it’s your face we’re talking about; you want to be able to smile and speak without pain, right?” They pause, before adding, “And of course, we want to make you as good-looking as possible, don’t we?” They give me a wink.

“Hmhm,” I hum in response, but all I can do I look away. I suddenly feel really uneasy, maybe even a little angry at Dr Haku for trying to get my hopes up, while guaranteeing that this will work is a promise they cannot make. I’ve seen enough pictures of burn survivors on the news before; I don’t know whether they had been given skin grafts or not, but I wouldn’t call them good-looking. I knew from the moment that they told me I had burns over fifty percent of my body, lost a leg and five of my fingers, I knew that I had wounds that wouldn’t heal. No matter how many surgeries they’ll give me.

I will never be myself again.

And for that, I only have myself to blame. I’m mad at myself for every poor choice I made; allowing bacteria to get into my wounds as I laid there in the open, shielding myself from the fire using my dominant arm, not screaming louder that I was stuck, telling them that was the case before they accidentally left me behind. Regrets heading all the way back to stepping in that bus in the first place.

Tears well up in my eyes as I shake my head; I will never forgive myself.

My eyes automatically shoot at my hand when I feel a sudden touch. There, carefully wrapped around my left hand, is Miwa’s. I let my gaze slip up to her face, where a pair of eyes look back at me. They look similar to mine, not just in color and shape, but also in the way they’re tear-filled too.

My sister smiles, it’s neither happy nor sad, but somewhere in between. I wouldn’t describe it as determination or compassion, it’s not an emotion that I can see in her eyes. It’s more of a connection, one that only a brother and his older sister can have. One that tells me a thousand things all at once, without her needing to say it all; how she still cares. How badly she wants to take away my pain. How she’ll stand by me. How she’ll have faith when I can’t. And how sorry she is about the choices she feels she shouldn’t ever have made, because she’s not even my mother.

Her eyes say it all.

A careful tear slips down the left side of my face, falling down onto the blanket. It’s silent, just like the message I send to her when I wrap my fingers around hers; I might not be able to forgive myself, but I will forgive her for her choices. She saved my life. And, if anything, I’m glad she is here instead of mom.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Koushi Sugawara
Friday, 17:00

“Allow him to close his eyes; let him fall asleep,” a voice whispers from behind me. I recognize it straight away. Not by tone, really, but rather by the sensation it makes me feel in my chest. Anger spreads through me as soon as I hear him speaking, whispering words that aren’t as calming as they should be. Words that are not meant for me, but for the person who I’m seated next to.

“Look at him!” my father’s voice cries, muffled by his hands. I feel his breath in my neck. Looking down at the unconscious body lying in the bed before me. I reach out to rest my hand on his chest, Daichi’s chest, to feel the rising and falling of it. Air streaming in his lungs. But he’s not really there. His thoughts are far away. “He wouldn’t want to live this way. He wouldn’t want to put us through this.”

A feeling a dark dread washes over me when I realize that there’s nothing I can do but wait, knowing that death might be lingering right behind me. Literally.

Careful huffs of breath move past my ear. A small laugh makes it from my father’s mouth. “-it would’ve been better if he’d died.” As soon as those words leave his mouth, I force my body to turn around. I’m ready to hit him. But there’s no one there, I’m all alone. Darkness creeps up on me from behind. A flat line sounds, steady and incessant. Tears blur my vision as I turn around to see Daichi’s unmoving chest. No breaths make it through to his lungs. I try my hardest to safe him, but there’s nothing I can do now.

I’m too late.

My breaths jolt in my chest and my eyes shoot open. First the world around me is one big flash of white, but sooner than later, everything slowly comes back into view.

The machines, displaying his beating heart and carefully allowing oxygen to flow into his lungs, are still turned on. My eyes glance over Daichi’s body; his face is still pale, eyes closed. His chest moves up and down at a steady pace like it has been doing for the past days, and unless someone makes a certain choice, it’ll stay like that. He’s not dying, I won’t allow him to.

I wipe away the tears that are in my eyes, before reaching out to him. My hand carefully takes a hold of his hand, it’s still just as cold as it was when I first held it. And it’s still just as surreal that my best friend’s here, lying in a hospital bed on the ICU, while he was leading the most normal high school life just one week ago. It’s absurd that someone as healthy as Daichi can even end up in a state like this.

“I had a terrible dream,” I whisper. My entire body starts trembling at just the thought of them taking Daichi off life-support. Not because I feel like it’ll happen soon, or at all, for that matter. But I am well aware how these things go; you think it’ll all get better, things will go back to normal. But it won’t. Decisions will have to be made if he remains this way, his mother has a lot of life changing choices to make.

That’s how it was when my mom ended up in the hospital. She wasn’t healthy like Daichi, she had been sick for quite a while. It’s been so long ago that I barely even remember a thing. All I remember is that one day, she was sleeping like Daichi is doing right now and I held her hand, that was the last time I visited her. That day, my dad made the choice to let her go and become a single dad of two young children; a choice he, in my opinion, shouldn’t ever have made.

He’s the one who took our mom away, and through his grief, he also robbed us of having a proper relationship with our father, who now is either at work or shouting at us to drown his grief.

I bring my head down towards Daichi, my forehead rests on his chest. I can feel his heart beating against my ear, beating quickly. I swear I even hear the heartmonitor picking it up, but that’s probably just my imagination. His chest keeps falling and rising at it’s normal pace, not faster and not slower, but I know dead well that it’s just the machines doing that. Without the help of a ventilator, he wouldn’t be breathing right now. We all know that. What we don’t know is when he will breathe on his own again. A tear slips down my cheek when I realize that the same might happen to Daichi’s mother and siblings as what happened to my family when my mom died. Families break apart when something like this happens, especially when they’re as close as the Sawamura family. But then again, I trust, with my entire heart, that miss Sawamura will make the right choice; the one that involves Daichi surviving this thing, whatever it takes. She won’t choose to lose her son.

A hand suddenly touching my shoulder scares me, startling me from my thoughts. I raise my head, despite the fact that I would rather keep my head down onto Daichi’s chest and listen to his breathing. With tearstained cheeks, I look up at Daichi’s mom.

She looks at least the same amount tired as I do when she smiles at me. Her smile is careful and not especially happy, it’s more like a wordless greeting. “It’s time to switch,” she tells me, reminding me of the deal we made a couple of days ago; she wanted to grant me the ability to visit Daichi too every day, since she could tell how important that is to me. But she’s still his mom and she would rather be close to her son the entire time, so I get an hour a day to be with him. She uses this time to shower, eat, call with Daichi’s siblings. But once the hour is over, I have to leave; ICU’s rules, not hers, she promised that as soon as we’re allowed in his room with more than one visitor at a time, she will allow me to stay much longer. Especially since she knows I have nowhere to go once I leave his side.

“Oh-“ I shoot a quick glance at the clock, realizing that time obviously went by faster since I dozed off. “-yeah.” I nod once. I want to get up and leave her alone with her son again, but there’s this feeling in my chest that, if I leave, I might not see him again. It has been present each time I leave, but after today’s nightmare, I cannot seem to rip myself away from his side. Or well- not with ease, at least.

I turn to Daichi, letting my eyes glance over his face. I make sure to take in every detail, just in case this is to be the last time I see him. I whisper a quick, “See you later, okay?” because “goodbye” always feels so off when I leave him; I don’t want to say goodbye, because I refuse to believe that he’s going to die. He shouldn’t have to, not until he has led a happy life and is old and grey. Not when he’s just barely eighteen-years-old. Not because of some stupid accident.

So I promise him that I’ll be back tomorrow, before rising from the slightly uncomfortable chair.

As I pass miss Sawamura, I give her a small pat on the shoulder. Wishing her a silent goodluck, because sitting here in silence and staring at Daichi hoping he’ll wake up, it isn’t easy.

Not for me, but definitely not for her either.

She thanks me under her breath, before we part ways. I walk away, towards the room, knowing that she has a right to be alone with Daichi. But also well-aware of the fact that I’ll be left alone with my thoughts, wondering if I’ll ever see my best friend again. Wondering if he will still be here tomorrow.

With the door handle already in my hand, I turn around one last time. “See you later, Dai-“ I stop speaking mid-sentence. Air catches in my throat and the world around me seems to stop for a second when I see two large brown eyes staring back at me. Just when I thought this day would never come, Daichi has woken up. Staring straight at me with tear-filled eyes.

Tears well up in my eyes and a small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth.

“Welcome back.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Daichi Sawamura
Friday, 17:07

A starry night sky. Cold washing over me as the wind passes through my drenched clothes. Fear as the moonlight was replaced by this sudden darkness. His voice promising that he’d stay by my side.

Those are the last things I truly remember. That is what I fell asleep to, right? And yet, it seems like one big fever dream when I wake up to completely different circumstances; nothing here smells or sounds like the forest. There are no owls or crickets, instead there’s the incessant beeping of something mechanical right beside my ear. A voice whispering, their words bouncing off the wall, echoing through my head. It sends throbs through my brain, making me feel like my head’s about to explode.

I want to clench my teeth, bite through the pain, but this only causes more pain. Something’s in my mouth, reaching all the way down into my throat. It’s so unnatural, making me feel like I’m suffocating, but I can feel my lungs taking in air nevertheless. I want it gone, though, but I can’t seem to fight against it no matter how hard I try. My lungs simply refuse to cough out whatever’s in my throat. And something holding it in place is pressing down onto my face that I’m certain it’s bruising me. It sucks.

A hand carefully wraps around mine. Tingles are sent up through my entire arm.

“I had a terrible dream,” a voice says, it’s far away and I can barely hear it above the constant blowing noise right beside my hear. I can barely even recognize Suga in the voice, it’s so hoarse and he’s trembling so much. When I think about it, it does sound just like he did last time he spoke to me; promising he wouldn’t leave me alone. Seems he has not broken that promise.

I remember getting so tired after he promised me that. Maybe, I already was tired before then, so I’m certain if I replied. I feel like I would’ve remembered thanking him for something so important as sticking with me in the scary moments following the crash, but my memory is a little foggy. It only gets foggier after that. Like there’s a wall I can’t see through. A veil, keeping me from knowing where the Hell I am and how I got here.

I try to shake off the feeling of dread. For all I know I’m just trying to remember something that never happened; I should focus on the here. The now. On opening my eyes, for instance, and telling Suga how thankful I am. I don’t know if I would be so calm right now if I didn’t know he was here.

I’m about to gather the strength to open up my eyes, when a sudden weight on my chest causes my entire body to feel even heavier than it already did. And I already felt like I was being weighed down by some unknown force. I have no idea why there’s suddenly so much more pressure on my chest, but I feel like it’s suffocating me even more. But despite the odds, my chest still keeps moving up and down rythymactically. It just doesn’t make sense. And if anything, the fact that my entire body feels this heavy, even my eyelids, makes me so extremely scared that my heart starts racing.

What the Hell is going on?

“It’s time to switch.”

When the weight lifts off my chest, literally, I feel some relief breaking through the fear. Not just because I no longer feel like I’m being crushed, but also because of that voice. Unlike with Suga’s, I don’t need a second take, I could recognize it anytime; I’ve been hearing it since before I was born.

Mom. I want to call out to her, because I can hear that there’s so much sadness in her voice when she speaks. I want to tell her that I’m here, that I can hear her. That I’m alright. But I can’t do anything.

Suga’s voice is sad as well when he replies to mom. “See you later, okay?” he says, but I don’t want him to leave. I don’t want mom to leave either. I don’t want to be alone.

Footsteps move away from me.

Don’t leave! I want to scream. Don’t leave me alone!

I’m afraid the veil will fall again if- if- I just don’t want to be alone. But there’s something inside of me making it impossible to make that clear. But I want to scream it out so badly. My heart races in my chest as I struggle to open up my eyes. I can feel my eyes moving underneath my eyelids, but the darkness won’t lift away. Not without me putting in every bit of energy inside of me.

With force, I manage to open them up just enough to see.

My eyes shift around the room rapidly as I try to take in what the Hell is going on here. I’m in a room, in a bed. Right beside me, there’s a woman sitting. I barely recognize her as my mom, she’s nothing like the woman who send me off to a volleyball camp with a kiss on my forehead and a wide smile on her face, just- just a short time ago. I can’t blame her for the sadness in her eyes, but still, it scares me how much older she appears; dark circles under her bloodshot eyes and a grim expression on her face as her eyes gaze at something across the room. I couldn’t have been asleep for that long. Right? It looks like it’s been years since I last saw her. Fear rises in my chest at just the thought of having been away from everyone for years. I remember feeling really strange and really really tired after walking away from that crash alive. I must’ve passed out for longer than I thought, considering I’m somewhere completely else than I used to be last time I was awake. But for me, it feels like I’ve been sleeping for a couple of hours, at most. But that’s clearly not the case. My worry isn’t that time has passed, my worry is that a lot of time has passed without me knowing, because honestly my memory is failing me now.

My fear is immediately dismissed when I see Suga from across the room. He’s standing there, with his back turned towards me at first. But when he turns around, I can see with just one single glance at his face that looks just the same as it used to. Tired and extremely sad, just like mom, but he obviously hasn’t aged one bit. He’s still the same seventeen-year-old guy who was in that crash with me and the others, I can even still see the bruise on his right arm peeking out from underneath his T-shirt. If the bruise hasn’t even disappeared, not so much time can possibly have passed!

Relief washes over me, resulting in tears blurring my vision right away. I’ve never been much of a crier, so the way they drip down my cheeks within just a matter of seconds, feels a little strange to be honest. But at the same time, I couldn’t care less; I mean, everything inside of me feels so relieved. So glad to not be in the woods anymore, and so freaking glad to have survived. I never thought I would.

When Suga’s eyes meet mine, they also fill up with tears straight away. There’s a strained smile on his face when he tells me, “Welcome back.”

I want to tell him “hey” and I want to tell mom not to cry, because I can hear her whimpering right beside my ear. But I can’t. I can’t even struggle against the air being blown into my mouth.

I blink away my tears, glancing over at mom to see her crying, but at the same time, her eyes are smiling. Her hands are wrapped overtop of her mouth as she lets out a small sob. “Oh- Daichi!”

I want to reach out to her, hug her so bad, but when I try to lift my arm it doesn’t do what I want it to do. Instead of lifting up from the blanket like it usually would, this sudden sting pain rushes through me. I can feel my muscles tensing as stiffness shoots through my entire arm. It’s like there’s something pulling on the from inside of me. Pulling my muscles apart. It hurts so much.

I wince at the pain, trying to hide a muffled whimper escaping from my mouth. But I fail at keeping my screams down when the tenseness suddenly turns into the worst muscle cramp I have ever felt, radiating through my entire body as I feel myself curl into myself to try and protect my body from the pain. I can’t do anything, not even move or stretch to make it leave.

Help! I cry out in pain, the volume of my shrieks fighting against air that’s forced down my throat.

It is agonizing.

Hands wrap around my shoulders, voices shouting my name as I feel myself slip away again. The pain hurts so much, I fight against burning of air being forced down my throat. I fight against the stinging cramps that spread through my entire body. I fight against the sudden exhaustion washing over me.

I don’t want to slip away. I don’t want to leave them. I don’t want to die.

But I have to give into it sooner than I’d want to.

-○-

I didn’t die, good news, I guess. I’m not quite ready to die, after all; I still have an entire life ahead of me. And yet, I feel devastaded when the pain finally settles and I’m faced with the absurd reality of what’s going on with me. All my “why”s are answered- or well, some of them. Just like that, I know why I’m here, why so much time has passed, why I feel so weak and why my head hurts so much.

That, while I didn’t ask a single question, because I couldn’t talk. I still can’t.

Why? Because I’m intubated, connected to a machine that breathes for me.

And why am I intubated? Because I was in a coma. For a week.

Trust me when I say, there’s something very surreal about being told that you were in a coma for a week. Sleeping, completely unresponsive. And yet, that is what I was told after having a bright-ass light shone right into my eyes and being asked a butt-load questions by a doctor.

Questions like: do you know your name and age? Do you know what happened? Where you are? What you’re doing here? Stuff like that. Simple questions I, kind of, know the answer to. To some extend.

But I couldn’t answer to any of them. Trust me, I tried. But I couldn’t even make a peep with the tube heading down my throat. The doctor knew this, and maybe he was waiting for a nod or a shake of my head. I couldn’t manage that either, nor I could move my hands or fingers. I can’t even breathe when the ventilator I’m hooked up to doesn’t breathe for me. I felt so freaking useless. So- alone. Like I was the only one in that room, even though I could see that he was with me, but it wasn’t like I could speak to him. Tell him where it hurt or do as much as nodding “yes” when he asked me if I understood him.

But, eventually, I managed to bring across the fact that I did understand him. I am awake and responsive; we came to that agreement after he asked me if I could blink if I understood him. Blinking seems to be one of the few things that I can manage right now. So, I blinked once for “yes” so he knew I could understand him. And I blinked once for extra painkillers too, because everything hurt, especially my sore muscles. And head which throbbed with every sound I heard.

They took me to a couple of different rooms for scans; to do this, they had to lift me onto a different surface, which was absolutely terrifying and honestly, not painless. They took scans, also pretty scary if you’d ask me, but not as scary as the pain I’d gone through just after I woke up.

And just a few minutes ago, I got back to the same room I was in before we left.

Not long after, they got mom back into the room. I don’t know when they made Suga and mom leave, but a big part of me is very happy that they did; I was in so much pain. I swear I blacked out, but at the same time, I felt everything happening to my body. Screaming until the doctor finally managed to massage the camps out of my body. I wouldn’t have wanted mom or Suga to see that.

And while I still can feel where the pain used to be, it’s all still sore and tense, it at least it doesn’t feel like I’m being pulled apart anymore. And at least, I know I won’t be screaming and scaring the crap out of mom, now that she’s back in the room with me.

I follow mom with my gaze as she walks into the room. Her hands are folded together, face down, almost as if she’s praying. Her eyes don’t look up at me as she takes a seat in the chair beside my bed. Her hands shake just so slightly before she lowers them into her lap. “So-“ Her voice is so sad, even more devastaded than when my youngest siblings’ biological dad left her four years ago. “What now?”

“Well,” the doctor who helped me earlier, whose name is Dr Hitsujikai I found out, takes a seat at the foot of the bed I’m in. “Six days ago, we put your son on a ventilator and gave him a ventricular drain-“ No idea what that is. “-to lower the fluid buildup in his brain. It seems to be doing its job, seeing as he has woken up and is responsive.” Dr Hitsujikai smiles shortly telling mom, “There are clear signs that he understands us and he is very responsive for someone in his state.”

A short hiccup sounds from mom’s mouth as she asks, “Really?” She turns to me, smiling through her tears. She reaches out to me, carefully stroking my cheek. The touch feels so nice, especially since I’ve been wanting to hug her so badly ever since I woke up. Plus, I could use a hug myself, but for now seeing mom smile and not being afraid to look at me is enough. “You can understand me?” she whispers through her tears.

Yes! I want to say, but when I try to speak, no sound comes out. I want to tell her so badly that I understand her, but I cannot make her understand me. It’s horrible!

I blink once, deciding it’s worth a try.

She doesn’t understand me.

“Really,” Dr Hitsujikai translates.

His words just remind her that I can not respond, though. Her hand tenses up a little. She forces a small smile and whispers, “I’m glad-“ She lowers her hand, nodding to herself as if trying to convince herself to be glad. I can tell that she’s having a hard time seeing the good of the situation, though. I wish I could actually tell her that she has a thing to be happy about; I’m alive. But at the same time, what’s the point in being awake and responsive if I can’t do a thing. I can’t even comfort her, tell her it’ll all be okay.

“He probably will be dependant of a ventilator for another while,” he slowly continues after a short silence. “But we’ll hopefully be able to slowly wean him off the vent in time.”

I wince when another puff of air gets launched into my lungs. It’s absolutely terrifying knowing that, as soon as they would take me off this thing, I might actually suffocate. Isn’t breathing a basic reflex? I’ve been doing it my entire life, so then why have I suddenly unlearned it? That shouldn’t happen. Right?

But I can’t ask him that. Plus, they will be slowly getting me off this thing, so that means it’ll be okay.

“But-“ Mom’s eyes shift from her lap to Dr Hitsujikai. “-there’s a but, right?”

I blink once, mainly to myself, because there’s defenitely a “but”. I knew there’d be a “but” when I found out that I couldn’t breathe on my own, couldn’t move or talk. Something in my brain got fucked up when I smashed it up against a chair, going from seventy kilometers per hour to zero real fast. To be honest, part of me already knew there’d be a “but” before I woke up here, knowing that such a massive amount of heachache couldn’t be healthy. My brain is fucked up in more way than just one.

And Dr Hitsujikai can’t disagree about the “but”, because he nods, his smile falling. “We’re still waiting on the new scans to know for sure, but going from the signs he’s displaying-“ The signs probably being the fact that I am so stiff all over that I can’t move at all. “-it’s safe to assume that the high pressure, from when his brain was swollen, caused damage to the red nucleus.”

“What?”

I glance at mom. Glad she asked, because I have no clue.

“Basically, there’s damage to the part of the midbrain that’s involved with limb control, which is interfering with his brain’s ability to communicate with his muscles and organs,” Dr Hitsujikai tells mom. “This would explain the muscle cramps and abnormal posturing we’re seeing, as well as his inability to nod or take a full breath on his own.” He pauses, giving mom time to think.

“W-What does that mean for him?” Mom shakes her head, clearly struggling to understand what to do with this information. “How- what now? I mean, you can treat him, right?”

“It is still extremely hard to tell Daichi’s prognosis, especially since we’ll have to take more tests to determine if there isn’t any more damage and how severe it is. So, I can’t tell whether he will recover and to what extend he will be able to do so.” He doesn’t sugercoat it, but there’s no need to. Not for me, at least; I survived a bus crash and was in a coma for a week, there’s no need for sugercoating. “But there are indeed options when it comes to his treatment; surgeries he can undergo and medication we can give him to make him more comfortable, and later on, physical therapy,” the doctor explains. “Whether and to what extend they will work for him, I can’t say with certainty; a lot of that will depend on the location and severeness of his brain damage. But seeing how much of a fighter he’s already showing himself to be, I think it’s safe to assume that, if we’ll be allowed to give him the treatment he deserves, this will play a role in how meaningful his recovery will be as well.”

Mom utters a sigh of relief, one that could pass as one for the both of us, that’s how relieved she seems to hear that there’s still a chance that I’ll be okay again. But all this relief washes away as fast as it got there when glances at me. “How do we know what treatment he wants?”

I wish I could tell her “all of it”, I want them to try everything they can to get me back to normal again. No matter how painful or how dangerous; I’ll go through anything to stop me from feeling this freaking helpless. Literally everything.

“We-“ Could ask me what I want? I’ll gladly blink! “-don’t.” Dr Hitsujikai shakes his head slowly. “And even if we could ask him, we shouldn’t; he’s young, he’s been through a lot, he shouldn’t have to make these choices on his own.” He pauses, glancing from mom, to me, and back. “It’s up to you, miss.”

Mom takes a deep shivering breath. “H-How do you mean? It’s my choice?”

“Well, seeing as you are his mother after all-“

“He’s eighteen.” She shakes her head. “I can’t make that choice. It’s not up to me!” She’s always told me that; as soon as I turned eighteen, I would decide over my own life. I would be in charge. It’s how she was raised, and it became even more important to her once she became a mom, seeing as I wouldn’t have even been allowed to be born if she hadn’t just turned eighteen when she got pregnant.

But here we are; me, eighteen-years-old, unable to communicate my choices. She obviously hates it.

Dr Hitsujikai can tell, and for the first time, there’s true sympathy in his voice. He takes a deep breath and tells her, “Considering the condition he’s in, we can’t know for sure if he’s able to really weigh and consider the choices he’s making. So, yes, it is your choice.” He swallows thickly. “I’m sorry.”

Mom glances at me. She looks so sad, but most of all guilty, when she nods. “Yeah. You’re right.” She places her hand onto mine. I can tell that she absolutely hates that she has to make this choice for me. A life-changing decision that can decide whether I’ll be able to get out of this bed again before I die.

I try to nod, tell her that she’s making the right choice no matter what; she’s one of those mothers who always makes the right choices, that are best for her children. And even though my head doesn’t move in the slightest, I know that she can see it in my eyes that I have full faith in her. There’s determination in her expression when she turns back to Dr Hitsujikai and nods again. “He would want you to do anything you possibly can to help him recover.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Koushi Sugawara
Saturday, 05:04

Some free hospital cafeteria’s food on a plastic plate in the waiting room, that’s my breakfast-situation after being wide awake for hours. My heart’s still ramming inside of my chest and I still get sick each time I think back to when Daichi woke up. That’s already ten hours ago, now, but it feels like not a single second has passed since nurses had to pull me away from the room filled with Daichi’s agonizing shrieks. Maybe some shrieks belonged to me too, but I’m not sure.

I definitely cried, but that was afterwards. After Daichi’s regular nurse, nurse Aiuchi, had sat down with me on the hallway’s floor until my nerves calmed down. She explained what I had witnessed and I’m glad she did, because in all honesty, I had no idea what I just saw. Or what to think of it.

Daichi woke up, I knew that much; his eyes stared right into mine and I could just tell that he was back. In my mind, this would be the turning point; everything would be okay again once he woke up. But it was like it was a fluke, because it didn’t really seem like he was okay. If he was even aware, that is.

Just seconds after he woke up, his entire face scrunched up into a grimace. He started screaming so loudly, his cries filled with so much pain, as he curled up. Literally. I’ve never seen fingers clench into fists so much, I’ve never seen Daichi cradling his arms against his chest, like he was afraid they would just break. He looked like he might break.

The imagine haunts me.

Nurse Aiuchi explained that it was something they saw often in their patients with traumatic brain injuries; the muscles flexing and extending like that, leading to a strange and very uncomfortable-looking positioning of his body, causing him discomfort. It looked more like agony to me. “It’s caused by an interruption between the signal his brain sends to his nerves and them executing that order,” she explained when I asked her about what I’d just seen. As for what was causing that disruption, she had no clue; that’s not her job after all. “But Dr Hitsujikai will figure that one out,” she promised me.

With those words, she led me to the waiting room. After making sure that I was comfortable, and not close to hyperventilating anymore, she asked me if I wanted anything. I needed caffeine, a choice I later really regretted, and I needed distraction. So, after nurse Aiuchi got me a cup of coffee and left to go back to doing her job of nursing ICU patients back to health, I put my earphones in and closed my eyes. I didn’t snooze, nor was I distracted from everything that was going on, but it helped me come to rest for some bit at least.

That rest is all gone now and my heart is, yet again, racing as I have a stare down with my breakfast.

“You have to eat,” miss Sawamura says after a while, and to be honest I have no clue how long I’ve been staring at my food. I’m just not that hungry. Or rather, not at all hungry.

I’m too afraid that I will have to throw up if I put something in my body. The coffee I had yesterday afternoon, I couldn’t keep it down after Daichi’s mom told me they’d taken him up to surgery. I wanted to scream, back then, tell her how stupid she was; Daichi had only just woken up and now she’d allowed them to put him down for more tests and some stupid surgeries. But it wasn’t the surgery or the tests that made me so mad. Because I know miss Sawamura has done the right thing to allow them to do so; one of them so they don’t have to give him food through that tube in his nose any longer and another one so he won’t have to be intubated anymore. Two things that will make him comfortable.

I can see that now, but in that moment I could only walk away. Walk away from her, with my angry fists stuffed in my pockets as I stomped around through the hospital’s garden.

The millions of bright flowers made this one of the few nice places in the hospital, where I spend a lot of the time I’m not with Daichi. Because watching patients and their loved ones go for a nice, small walk, enjoying the beautiful flowers, was much more bearable than being inside of the sterile walls. But yesterday evening, the garden was empty and the flowers looked dark and dull in the fading sunlight.

But maybe that was just how I viewed them. Because I was feeling dark and sad myself.

I’d been looking forward to seeing Daichi’s eyes open up and now this had only led to more pain. Not just for him, but also for me and his mom, not even to mention the pain his younger siblings will have to go through when they hear how the brother who helped raising them might not get better again.

Walking around gave me some time to think, though, making me realize that it’s not the tests or surgeries that I’m mad about. I was, and still am, terrified, because I have always told myself that a person’s at their worse when they’re in a coma. There’s no state closer to death.

So, when I was younger I always made myself belief that, if dad hadn’t taken mom off life-support, she would’ve woken up. We would’ve been a normal family. Just like I now told myself that once Daichi woke up, everything would go back to normal again too; we’d go back to Miyagi, finish our high-school experience and forget that this spring even happened. Now I can see that that was naïve.

To some people that realization may hit them like a truck, leaving them broken, but not me. It helped me gain a more realistic perspective of everything that’s going on; there are a few amazing doctors willing to try everything in their might to help Daichi heal back up again. And miss Sawamura is a good enough mother to allow them to, so there’s no way I can be mad at her anymore.

I shouldn’t have been angry in the first place.

I look from my breakfast up to miss Sawamura’s worried eyes. I’m not sure if she’s worried about Daichi and his surgery or the fact that I’m not eating. But I don’t want to worry her any more.

“I’ll try-“ I use my chopsticks to bring some of the rice up to my mouth. I place it in my mouth and bite down. Even the taste of some plain rice with soy sauce causes my stomach to turn, I’m just that nervous. While I’m glad those doctors are helping him, I’m not allowing myself to get all naïve again; I’m not expecting Daichi to wake up from these surgeries, until I can see otherwise with my own eyes.

When I look up at miss Sawamura, I force smile to show her that I’m fine.

But I’m not fine. Tears well up in my eyes while I chew on the bite of rice. I shake my head and admit, “I don’t know what to do or say or think anymore.” I stare at the food on my plate, feeling sick. “I mean, I was pretty fine up to now, but- that was only because I’d already gone through that with my mother. And I thought that if Daichi would wake up, all would be good. But now Daichi’s awake and nothing about this whole situation feels good.” My lips start trembling. “and- and that’s truly terrifying to me.”

I look up at miss Sawamura to see that all the color has drained from her face. She, too, is having a hard time. Heck, she’s having an even worse time than me. I immediately regret doing that; springing all that on her. And for what? It’s not like she can make my fear disappear.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her.

She shakes her head, reaching out with her hand. She takes a hold of mine, promising it’s okay. “It’s okay to be scared, I’m pretty terrified if I say so myself.” She visibly hesitates before saying, “Daichi told me about your mom, when he’d been over to your home for the first time. I should’ve known this would upset you-“ She’s clearly blaming herself; for allowing me near Daichi at all, for allowing me to stay here, while she feels like she should’ve maybe send me back home. Far away from Daichi. But if anything I’m glad she didn’t do that; she let me choose what I wanted. What I needed.

But now, I don’t know what I need more; be with Daichi or be far away from him till he’s doing better. And every part of me knows how selfish that is, wanting to leave now that I can’t recognize my best friend anymore when I look at him. That is what scares me.

So, instead of allowing her to apologize for what she feels guilty about, I apologize instead.

“Me too,” she replies, with a small compassionate smile on her face.

I smile back, not wide, but only a little.

This smile immediate falls when I see a doctor approaching us from across the waiting room. His white coat sways as he makes his way over to us. There are more people waiting in the room, but I immediately recognize him as Dr Hitsujikai, Daichi’s neurosurgeon. And even if I didn’t, he’s got his eyes locked onto us; he’s clearly got news for us. I just hope it’s good news.

He stops a few steps away from us, his expression not giving away anything. It feels like an eternity passes before he nods once and says, “I’m happy to inform you that both the tracheostomy and gastrostomy were successful.” He pauses, before repeating – in easier words this time – that Daichi can now breathe more comfortably through a special tube that doesn’t have to go into his throat through his mouth and that they’ll be able to deliver him food in a less uncomfortable manner with the help of the G-tube in Daichi’s stomach. He promises, “There were no complications whatsoever.”

“Really?” There’s relief, happiness maybe even, in miss Sawamura’s voice.

“Yes.” The doctor nods, with a careful smile.

“Thank you!” Her hand lifts up from mine as she rises to her feet. I swear she’s about to give the Dr Hitsujikai a hug when she changes her mind somewhere halfway. She gives him a polite nod instead. Her voice is more serious when she asks, “When can we see him.”

There’s a mix of worry and relief that washes over me when I hear how she makes sure to say “we”. Relief, because I really don’t want to wait unknowingly for any longer; I want to see Daichi. But also worry, because I’m still terrified. Still afraid that I might see things that’ll make me fear my best friend.

“I’ll take the both of you to him, right away. He’s in a recovery room as of now, and we lightened his sedation, so he should wake up in a couple of minutes,” he explains. “But I have to warn you beforehand; Daichi will look a bit different.” He pauses before adding, “And most people need some adjusting to breathing following a tracheostomy. He’s hooked up to the vent, but he could still be struggling a little when he just wakes up.” I know he’s saying it to give us a heads up, to make sure we don’t get startled, but it does make my worry overwhelm the little bit of relief that I had.

This fear only grows bigger and bigger as we make our way to Daichi’s room. A fear for what I’m about to see. A fear of him struggling and screaming just like he did last time I saw him.

My eyes are fixated on my feet as we walk into the dimly lit room. While the sounds are mostly the same in this room, it’s different from the ICU, where lights shone bright both during the day and night. I expected it to be mostly the same, but this is really a lot more like a recovery room; somewhere he can stay until he wakes up and they’re able to decide what department to transfer him to.

Maybe that’s also why they allow both of us inside, instead of just one of us. I’m happy that they’re allowing both me and miss Sawamura to be with Daichi while he wakes up from his anesthesia. Because I don’t know if I could’ve done this on my own. I don’t know if I would’ve gone in.

But even though I’m in, I suddenly don’t have the guts to look up. Afraid I will be faced with the same painful images that have been repeating themselves in my mind over and over and over again.

“He’s waking up,” nurse Aiuchi’s voice whispers, breaking the silence. “I’ll set him upright a little.”

There’s the sound of something mechanical creaking sends shivers down my spine. I draw a short breath, taking a step back. Still not daring to look away from my feet. I don’t know if I can do this.

I stand with my back against the wall, listening to miss Sawamura’s footsteps move across the room. Away from me, towards her son.

Her voice is soft, almost a whisper when she tells Daichi “good morning”. I listen to her voice, hearing the sadness underneath the calmth as she reassures Daichi she’s with him. “Slow breaths,” she encourages him, so maybe he’s struggling. I wouldn’t know. “You’re doing great.”

When I hear the audible breaths, like little strained hums, my stomach turns.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Daichi’s mom hushes. “Don’t try to speak.”

At first I hear Daichi’s voice; really Daichi’s tone and all, but he can’t speak. Small, hum-like sounds reach my ears. I tell myself it’s because of the tracheostomy; I looked it up and most people can’t speak right after surgery. But then again, it might not be because of that, there might be more wrong causing him to be unable to produce words. He might never speak again. I try not think about it.

There’s the sound of a ventilator whirring in the background. I close my eyes, focusing on that sound instead of on Daichi’s failed attempts at talking. I focus on my breaths. I wish I could leave without anyone noticing. I don’t want to be here. I just don’t-

“Sugawara?” miss Sawamura’s voice is calm and careful as she says my name. “It’s okay; he’s okay.” Her voice is exactly the tone that of a mother’s supposed to be; sending a sudden calmth overtop of me. Like a heavy blanket, forcing my breathing to slow down and my mind to stop overthinking.

I swallow thickly, before peeking up through my bangs to see her hand reaching towards me. “Why don’t you come a little closer?” When I dare to look up a little further, I see that there’s a kind smile on her face. Less sadness than before; so maybe it’s not that bad?

I carefully allow my eyes to glide from miss Sawamura to the bed. First, I’m just looking at the blanket, all the way at the end. His feet rest underneath the blanket. His legs seem less tense than before. He’s not twitching or trembling, like last time I saw him. Maybe Daichi’s really okay?

My breaths are careful, quick, as I move up. Slowly, but surely, I gaze over his body; laying on his back, mostly covered by the blanket. His hands rest on top of his stomach. Light blue splints with Velcro straps are fitted around his hands and lower arm, making his fingers look normal and stretched instead of clenched into an uncomfortably tight fist. There’s a bit of happiness when I realize that they’re trying anything to make him comfortable. To make sure he’s not in that much pain anymore.

Ready to look him eyes, my gaze moves up quickly. It comes to a halt, though. Stopping when I lay eyes upon the surgery site. I knew what to expect, I looked it up when miss Sawamura told me what surgery Daichi was going to undergo. I wanted to know the risks. And I wanted to know what to expect, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t startle me at least a little to actually see it on Daichi. The tube making its way from his throat through a little cut in his windpipe instead of sitting in his mouth. It doesn’t look particularly comfortable if you’d ask me; the way there are sterile white cloths are shoved in between Daichi’s neck and the strap that keeps everything in place. Big blue tubes attach the ventilator to the smaller tracheostomy tube, blowing air into his lungs.

I wonder if it hurts.

Daichi clears his throat. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s not comfortable or to grab my attention. I think the latter; he’s just telling me not to stare. He’s right. I shouldn’t; it’s extremely impolite to do so.

Finally, I manage to force my eyes to look him in the eyes.

They’re rimmed with red skin, still a little shimmery and damp. He’s clearly been crying. But at the same time, his eyes are bright, awake and, most importantly, they’re smiling. He’s happy, at least.

With my teeth clenched together, fighting back tears, I manage to smile back. “H-Hey Daichi-“ My voice breaks. A tear drips down my cheek. I hide it by chuckling, instead. “Glad you didn’t die on me.”

At first his eyes go big. Surprised, maybe even a little shocked, they stare back at me. I feel like I messed up, said the wrong thing, but then a small strained belly chuckle sounds. Slowly, a smile shows on his face. It’s not the same smile I know from Daichi; whereas he’s usually someone with a wide smile, there’s just a tiny one there. His mouth perking up on one end, forming into a small, a little lopsided, happy smile. He doesn’t need the words to tell me; he’s clearly glad that he’s alive as well.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Shouyou Hinata
Saturday, 06:00

"Daichi woke up."

The message arrived in the team Karasuno group chat somewhere during the night, while I was asleep. Making this, along with a long stream of replies, the first thing I woke up to in the morning.

The initial message, send by Sugawara, was accompanied by a selfie. Two of my upperclassmen with tearstained cheeks, but a smile on their faces.

Daichi looked a little tired still, and just like most of us injured, it looks like he'd just undergone some surgery. But he's awake! It made my day, even though I thought it couldn't get any better. And it seems I wasn't the only one who was happily surprised by this news.

A long stream of messages nearly blew up my phone when I turned it on this morning.

The first response being a voice message from, obviously, Tanaka. "Yass! The captain's back!" He sounds stuffy and hoarse, he either woke up to the message or he cried when he saw it. Both things, I can relate with when I sent my message at six in the morning, not in voice message form for that exact reason. "Welcome back Daichi, we missed you!" It sounds sappy, but it's true. Things just don't feel complete when you know an important piece of the puzzle is missing.

More messages come in after mine, mainly from Nishinoya, who apparently also only just woke up, congratulating Daichi with getting back to the world of the living.

"You're popular," nurse Sato, who's cleaning the bandage around my left arm for the last time before I leave this afternoon, determines. He heard all the messages coming in just a second ago, watched me cry, and now hears even more messages arrive as we speak.

I shake my head. "Not me, the captain."

Nurse Sato raises his eyebrow. "The captain?"

"Yeah!" I nod, lowering my phone for a second. "He's my upperclassman, the one who's in a coma-" I told him about that. I needed to tell someone about everything; Daichi's coma, Nishinoya's legs, Tsukishima's blindness, Ukai's lungs, Yachi's ankle and of course Kageyama's- everything. I needed to tell it to someone, and mom already has enough to deal with to do with my injuries, so nurse Sato heard it all. "Well, was in a coma, actually."

Nurse Sato's eyes grow larger. "So, he woke up then?"

I nod happily. "Yes!"

"How is he doing?" I don't know if he's actually invested or just giving me another opening to rant, but it makes me feel at ease.

I look back at my phone, scanning over the messages that came in. The entire group chat is still blowing up with more welcome back wishes from the ones of us who aren't awake at midnight. And the people who were awake when the message was send have loads of questions by now; how is Daichi feeling? Is he okay? When can we see him? Today?

Sugawara says he must disappoint us; Daichi's still extremely tired, apparently he fell asleep again right after taking the picture, and therefore is unable to receive such a huge amount of visitors today. "Maybe after he's transferred to the regular ward, when he's a bit stronger."

It saddens me that I won't be able to visit him today; I would love to catch up with Daichi. I bet everyone does.

But I'll be leaving this afternoon, resulting in me being a good five hours away from Daichi and, by default, also Sugawara. From Kageyama and Nishinoya and Ukai too. It makes me a little sad.

But it only gives me good reasons to find out how to travel here by train; I won't be heading back to school right away, but even once I do I can always visit in the weekends if I know how to get here.

After reaching the last message, I have to shake my head. "No clue, it doesn't say how he's doing." I wish Sugawara would let us know, but it's okay; Daichi's awake and he's clearly showing a little smile on that picture they took. So I guess he's doing pretty good. "It just says he's tired, still."

"That's normal, though. He was in a coma, most people start gradually being awake for longer each day." Nurse Sato finishes off the bandage by putting two pieces of tape on it. "There you go," he says, rising to his feet again.

I look down at the bandage around my left arm, which nicely covers the surgical wounds. It's done really neatly, which is nice, since I don't want to scare Natsu when I get home.

“Thank you,” I tell him. It’s strange to think about leaving. I’ve been here for the past week, and honestly while I’ve never been a fan of hospitals, I had kind doctors and nurses taking care of me. I was near Kageyama at all time, meaning I could support him; he’s clearly going through a tough time, even though he sometimes tries to hide his emotions, I can tell. That’s why I tried to visit every day for the past week, only failing once because of my surgery. I even dropped by yesterday, later in the evening, to hear that he had let his sister back in. She’d just gone home when I got there.

Today will be the last time I drop by, and I just hope that he’s at least awake when I do so, because things will become completely different once we’re five hours apart. They’ll be harder. On the both of us, because while I haven’t told my people, Kageyama knows I’m terrified as well. Once I’ll be home again, I’ll have to be stronger; the team, my family, they will expect me to start healing. And I don’t want to worry them, of course, so I’ll have to be strong. Even if I feel weaker than ever before.

And of course I’ll be leaving behind the friends I have here; I will definitely miss Nishinoya, and while I haven’t seen Daichi and Sugawara at all since we got here, I know school will be completely different without them too. And without coach Ukai, there probably won’t be any volleyball practices either. Not that I think I’ll be strong enough to play again; mom’s been warned about my bones being more brittle enough times to not let me go back to playing for another while. It took her three full days before she would let me go for a walk on my own, little does she know I’d been sneaking out on my own earlier than that when she was asleep. I don’t know if she’ll ever let me touch a ball again. I sure hope she will.

But crazy as it sounds, I’m not ready for it myself either; going back to volleyball, that is. Sure, I miss it with my entire heart, but I don’t know if I can handle practicing without my team. I’m past that point in my life; ever since I started high school, I had a team surrounding me. And now, suddenly that team has been torn apart. I have faith that I will play again someday, just not so soon, not when three of my friends are still hospitalized awaiting the news about whether they will ever play again.

And as absurd as it sounds, I have hope that they will play again one day too, though.

“So, what are the plans for the day?” nurse Sato interrupts my thoughts. He’s slicing an apple at the little counter, and just like always, he makes small talk while he does so.

I shrug once. “There’s not a lot to pack-“ Mom only brought some clothes, and while my bag did make it out of the burning bus, I don’t know where it went. Not that it matters; it’d become more like a garbage sack for blood drenched clothes and empty food wrappers. We went ran out of supplies. “-so I might just go for a final walk through the hospital.” It sounds strange, but I’m going to miss this place. I’ve walked so many laps through this hospital to get some of my lost stamina back that I’ve seen about every hallway, apart from the ones that I was not allowed to walk through. “Probably visit my friends.” I don’t add ‘for the last time’, because no one’s going to die and I will visit them again.

Nurse Sato smiles as he hands me the plate of sliced apples. “Sounds like a great idea.”

After that we say “goodbye” and I enjoy the sweet apple slices to wash away the taste of grimy meds accompanied by a Vine compilation. Once that’s over, I sit up on the side of the bed, knowing there’s no time to waste if I want to make the best of today before I leave at two this afternoon.

I put on the sling around my neck, my left arm resting in it so the surgery site won’t start swelling up even more. It’s already pretty swollen after all. After that, I take a hold of the IV-stand for support. I’m going to need a cane or a crutch once I go home, seeing as I’m still fully relying on the metal stand for support while I’m walking. My legs are just that weak. I wouldn’t have ever thought that kidney failure would have so much impact on someone’s overall health.

With slippers to keep my feet warm, I trudge through the hallways at about the same pace as the old ladies I saw practicing walking with a rack earlier this week. But I’ll only get back to my normal speed if I practice, so each day I try to beat my own time; yesterday it took me half an hour to get from my room to Kageyama’s, today I’m going for twenty-five minutes. It takes less time to get to Nishinoya’s room from mine since he’s on the same department. I’ll visit him on my way back to my room, I’ve made the mistake of visiting him during his morning routine before. His starts soon after mine ends, which I did not know at the time. Let’s say he was anything but pleased when I walked in unannounced; I got a big lecture when I visited him again later that day.

Kageyama, on the other hand, seems to wake up at the crack of dawn for his morning routine. He’s always already done once I reach his room, but often he is still waiting for his painkillers to kick in. It makes him really grumpy, but I don’t mind because that’s how I know Kageyama.

That’s why I know I can walk extra fast to get to him. I start walking, already nearing the ICU hallway after fifteen minutes. Kageyama’s room is all the way at the end, so it will definitely take me another while to get there. But wow! Fifteen minutes to get from my hallway to the ICU’s doors, that’s fast!

I lean up against the door, catching my breath for a bit when I suddenly hear footsteps behind me.

“Hinata!” A distant cough sounds, more panting, before the same voice repeats, “Hinata, is that you?”

I turn around to see Ukai standing all the way on the other end of the hallway. I barely recognize him at first, since his hair is limp and greasy, hanging all around his face.

“Coach Ukai!” I shout, waving happily. I haven’t seen him in days, I’d heard he’d survived, but I didn’t know he was already on his feet again. I thought he was too weak to send us an update, but here he is, standing on the other end of the hallway. Despite the oxygen thingy underneath his nose, he’s completely out of breath and fully supports on the nurse who walks beside him.

“Can you help me get to him?” he asks the nurse, just loud enough that I can hear it as well.

She nods once, before slowly walking in my direction. Once he’s close enough, he leans up against the wall, gasping for breaths. “So-“ he says in between pants. “-how are you- Hinata?”

I lean up against the wall as well, because standing for too long causes my knees to ache. “Pretty okay.” I shrug to myself. I still have a long road to go, before things go back to somewhat normal, but I’m willing to go down that road completely with full force. “You?”

“Been better-“ His chuckle comes out sounding more like a cough. “But seeing the circumstances? I’m pretty okay myself too.” He nods to himself. “Getting in some exercise too?”

“Yup. I was just about to pay Kageyama a visit.”

He clearly hesitates before asking, “How’s he doing?” His eyes are fearful, almost as if he’s still expecting me to say that Kageyama’s dying.

I shrug. “Better each day, pain-wise.” That’s what Kageyama told me at least; I knew he was referring to his physical pain, though. I can see in the guy’s eyes that he might be even more hurt mentally. I can only imagine what he must be going through. “He’ll survive,” I promise, because I’ll make sure he will. I will call him every night, and if he doesn’t pick up I’ll keep calling until he does pick up. I will drag him through this, because he shouldn’t be all alone all the time, that gives him too much time to mope.

Ukai takes a careful breath and after exhaling through his mouth, he says, “I’m glad.”

I nod and smile. I want to tell him I’m glad too, but instead I end up asking Ukai something entirely different. “Can you keep an eye on Kageyama for me, when I’m gone?”

Ukai stares at me, large eyes filled with shock. “You’re dying?”

A cackle escapes from my mouth. “No, no!” I shake my head. “I’m heading home in a couple of hours, so I’ll be so far away-“ I glance into the ICU’s hallway through the glass in the door. A sad smile makes its way onto my face. “-and while I know Kageyama’s got his sister here. She’s great and all, but she’s going to a rough patch too. I think he could use some cheering up sometimes. Know what I mean?”

“Heading home, huh?” he mutters. “Must be exciting.”

“Very exciting! But also terrifying.” I let out a chuckle. “Truly terrifying, leaving everyone here behind.”

He nods to himself. “I know.”

We both go silent. After a short while, he’s the one to break the silence, by promising me that he will check in on Kageyama every now and then, when he gets the chance. “As long as you’ll check in on the rest of the team for me every now and then?”

I promise him that I will, before we part ways with a small “see you soon”. No “goodbyes”, because I also promise that I will drop by his room once I’m here to visit the others someone soon.

I end up not making it to Kageyama’s room in under twenty-five minutes, but that’s okay; it was worth it, because I at least saw our coach again. I now know that Daichi’s awake, Nishinoya and Kageyama are healing and Ukai has survived and is walking around the hospital again. Later today, I can leave this hospital with a peace of mind, because I now I know for sure that everyone will be alright.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Natsu Hinata
Saturday, 19:00

Everything is ready; there are balloons and colorful decorations and a banner. The entire house smells like cake, mixed with a little paint, because I only got to painting the banner today. I would’ve taken more time doing it, but no one told me that Shouyou would be coming back home today.

Alright, grandma told me this morning, but I feel like she should’ve told me earlier. That way we wouldn’t have had to rush to the store to get everything to throw Shouyou a welcome back party. And we could’ve made one of those delicious cakes by mom’s recipe instead of a boxed cake, which is still baking right now. He has been sick for so long; he deserves the best of the best when he comes home.

Grandma seems to think otherwise, though, immediately telling me that I shouldn’t get too carried away with planning everything out. “Shouyou will probably be really tired when he gets home,” she told me when I told her I wanted to do so much with Shouyou once he gets home; eat cake, play games and watch movies. Like we would do if it was his birthday; I know it’s not, but still, there’s some celebrating that needs to be done, because after an entire week my big brother’s coming home again.

With every tick of the clock, we get closer to the time that Shouyou will arrive. I sit on the couch, staring out at the street through the window. My shoes are already standing near the door, ready for me to slide into them and run outside as soon as the car arrives.

“How much longer, grandma?” I ask her, when another tick sounds and I still don’t see mom’s car. I just hope they didn’t get held up; I haven’t been able to see him all week, and while I thought I wouldn’t miss him and his loudness, I seriously disliked not having him come home at the end of the day. It just really made me miss him. And I couldn’t even call him with grandma’s phone, even though she did let me call mom each morning. I haven’t spoken to Shouyou in eight days, not even once.

“Not much longer,” she promises, sitting down on the couch beside me.

I sit up on my knees, leaning to the side in hopes to see more of the road. When I do, I see a car coming into view. My heart makes a happy jump. I lean closer. “There they are!”

I watch closely as the car comes to a stop, thinking that I will automatically run to the door as soon as Shouyou opens up his door. But I don’t. Instead I freeze up as soon as I see him crawl out of the car. He was always short for his age, a family trait, but I never saw him as too skinny. But as mom helps him out of the car, he looks frail. He rises to his feet with the help of a crutch, like he would’ve done if he’d broken a leg, but there’s no part of him broken. He even wobbles a little before standing steadily.

His mouth is smiling wide when he looks in my direction, but he’s so pale and weak-looking. He waves at me. With his right hand, because his left arm hangs from a sling, all wrapped-up in bandages, so maybe he did break something, even though no one told me he did. No one told me he would be this slow and tired-looking either; I mean, I just thought, he’d be okay again once he left the hospital. You’re supposed to come back home all healed up after a stay, but it doesn’t look that way.

It takes me a second to manage to wave back. So long, that he’s already making his way to the door. Slowly. Very slowly. Nothing like the close-to-speed-ticket-speed he used to walk and run at.

“Hey Natsu, Grandma, I’m back!” His voice is still loud at least.

I swallow thickly before shouting back. “H-Hi Shouyou!”

Slowly, the clicks of his crutch hitting against the wood floor come closer. I turn around, carefully. There’s my brother, who usually is running around and normally I would jump on him, but now- he looks so frail. So skinny and pale. So much even that his hoodie is hanging around him, way too big.

I guess this is what my friends at school meant when they said people always look a little scary when they just get back from the hospital; unlike me, they all had had grandparents or parents at the hospital at some point. But not me. I have a healthy grandma, a healthy mother and up to today, I had a very healthy older brother too. So I laughed at their statements, saying that Shouyou’s nothing like that; he’s always loud and hyper, plus it isn’t like he’s sick. Right?

Mom told me he was in a car crash, but that meant he would have his leg in a cast at a worst case scenario. He just had to stay at the hospital to make sure that he didn’t get sicker. That’s what I told myself, at least. I didn’t think being in a car crash could make people appear this ill.

“That was one long trip!” Shouyou flops down on the couch right beside me. A small gasp escapes from his mouth as he collides with the cushion. “I’m pooped!” he announces.

I frown at him, confused to see a wide smile on his face. I mean, he’s sick, isn’t he? How can he be this happy? When he sees me staring at him, he reaches out to me and messes my hair up completely.

“So, how is my favorite sister doing?” He grins when I glance up at him through my fluffy bangs.

“I’m your only sister, you know?”

“Yeah, so what?” He lowers his hand, resting it on his stomach, close to his other hand. “You can’t be my favorite then?”

I give it a thought. “Technically? No.” I cross my arms and tell him, “But I’m good, thanks for asking.” Just when I’m about to ask him how he is, Shouyou spots the whole welcoming scene that’s going on in the kitchen; the cake we decorations and the banner that hangs from his chair.

“Whoa-“ His eyes go large. “Is that for me?” He gets up from the bench, slowly pushing himself upright with the help of his crutch – seems he’s used to using it. He wobbles towards the banner, trying to move faster than he probably should, because mom tells him to take it slow.

“Yeah, yeah, mom-“ he mutters in response, before turning around to mom, grandma and me with the widest smile on his face. “But look at this! Natsu, you really outdid yourself with this one!”

A small smile appears on my face; I did still put a lot of effort in the banner.

“There’s a crow and Band Aid’s and-“ He takes his hand over the fabric and I almost shout “it might not be completely dry yet!” but it seems like it is, because his hand doesn’t smudge the paint right away. “-and, whoa- that’s me, isn’t it?” He turns around and while he smiles I can see there are tears in his eyes.

“Damn, I’m happy to be home-“ he whispers, probably to himself, Shouyou does that sometimes. When he sees I’m watching, he quickly takes his hand past his nose, sniffling. “I’m going to- uh-“ he stammers, his eyes shift towards where the hospital’s wrist-bands sit around his right wrist. “Is it okay if I put on something else real quick? It was so hot in the car!”

“Of course, darling,” mom tells him right away.

I raise my eyebrow as I watch him leave, rushing to his room. He’s too much of a man to admit it, but I’ve seen him do this many times before when he had a rough day; he’s definitely going to cry.

“So-“ Mom walks over to me, sitting down beside me on the couch. She wraps her arm around my shoulder, she squeezes me against her chest. “Was I missed too? Or is Shouyou the only one who deserves a welcome back?”

“You weren’t hurt, mom!” I remind her, even though she looks just as tired as Shouyou. I rest my head against her shoulder, promising that I missed her too. “And you definitely cook better than grandma.”

“Say, I can hear you, young lady!” grandma tells me.

The three of us let out a short chuckle. But then everyone goes silent again. There’s something strange about the whole vibe, like everyone’s on edge. Even me. Though I don’t quite know why.

It feels a complete and utter relief when the oven pings, informing us about the cake being ready to be eaten. I jump up from the couch and order grandma to get the cake. “I’ll get Shouyou!”

I rush up towards Shouyou’s room, ignoring mom when she tells me he will come when he’s done. That’s not how it goes here; in the Hinata household, I am in charge of getting Shouyou when he needs to get ready or come eat, because he will forget if I don’t linger in his doorway. I don’t know how they did it when I wasn’t yet old enough to remind him each and every time? Did Shouyou just not get anywhere in time for the first eight years of his life?

When I get to his room, though, I can’t get myself to go inside immediately. There’s some uncertainty causing me to linger in the hallway a bit longer, before moving into his doorway. I stand there, staring into his room in silence. He’s standing in the middle of the room, shirtless and clearly zoned out. His hoodie’s already in his hands, but he’s not making any moves to put it on. I wish he was already wearing it, because the bandages and bruises that show from underneath his hoodie startle me. There’s a large white Band-Aid on his stomach and the skin is all deep purple around it. It looks a little creepy, if I’m being honest. So do the strange dangly tubes that come from his chest. They send shivers down my spine.

I swallow thickly before turning away from the door. I rest with my back against the wall, taking a deep breath before saying, “There’s cake, Shouyou.” My voice is a little shaky and weak.

There’s a small “oh, cake” from inside of Shouyou’s room. Then there’s some rumbling, soon followed by him coming out of his room. He’s got his hoodie on now and he hums some happy tune as he marches past me towards the kitchen. Guess that he doesn’t have too much pain, then?

“Natsu, are you coming?” He turns around when he notices I’m not following. “That cake smells delicious!” he breathes in through his nose, before grinning. “Last one there is a rotten egg!” He starts running, if that is what you can call it, his crutch aggressively hitting the floor as he makes his way to the kitchen.

A small smile makes its way onto my face. Yup, that’s definitely still the same Shouyou. My loud, obnoxious, older brother with a competition issue. “Unfair!” I make a small sprint to catch up to him. “You got a head start!” Despite his slowness, I only manage to beat him to the table by a very short amount, running past him at the very last second.

Mom tells us not to play so rough, something she hasn’t said in ages.

“I know, sorry!” Shouyou tells her in between pants. He sits down on his chair, there’s sweat running down his forehead. He leans back and closes his eyes, catching his breath. “Is it me, or did you get really fast all of a sudden?” He peeks at me through his eyelashes.

“You just got slow!” I shoot back.

“Ouch-“ Shouyou pretends to take physical damage.

A chuckle escapes from my mouth.

Once he has caught his breath again, Shouyou leans forward, slicing off a bit of cake. He’s just using his right hand to transfer it to a plate, making it looks really clumsy. I’m actually impressed that he got the slice onto the plate, even when it cracked in half in the middle. “Here you go,” he says, handing the plate to me. “For the little-” He fakes a cough, only half hiding the word, “cheater”. “-I mean, winner.”

“I won, fair and square!” I take the plate from him and scoff.

“Na-ah!” He shakes his head. “I got a handicap, so it was not a fair game!” Shouyou dramatically gestures at the crutch.

Mom chuckles before sitting down. She exchanges glances with grandma. “And they’re fighting again.”

“Not fighting!” we say simultaneously before bursting out into laughter.

I don’t know why I was so nervous just now, if anything I’m extremely happy that Shouyou is back! The house was really empty, and especially very silent, without him here. I’m glad he’s back.

“Remember not to eat too much cake, Shouyou,” mom suddenly says when Shouyou’s about to get a slice of the cake for himself. “It’s really high in dairy and sodium and you know what Dr Haiiro said.”

Shouyou grumbles an excuse before cutting a lot smaller slice off instead. “I forgot.”

Once on his plate, he plays with the cake, visibly hesitating before taking a small bite. It’s almost like he doesn’t want to eat it, but at the same time he really does, because Shouyou loves cakes and breads and sweet things that fill his stomach.

I tilt my head, carefully asking, “Why can’t he have too much cake?” It can’t have to do with his appetite for dinner, because we already had dinner long before Shouyou got here. Is it because it’s unhealthy? Bad for his teeth? The same goes for me, but mom’s not lecturing me about my slice.

Mom’s grimaces, like it does whenever she doesn’t quite know how to react. “The doctor put Shouyou on a special diet.”

“Because he’s fat?”

“Well- thank you very much!” He sounds offended. “And no! It’s because my kidneys suck.”

“Bullshit.”

“Language, Natsu!” mom immediately snaps.

I bite the inside of my cheek, before explaining myself. “It just doesn’t make sense, okay. Your kidneys make pee-“ I learned that during a biology lesson earlier this year. “-and that officially has nothing to do with cake.” Everyone goes silent. Even Shouyou, and that is an accomplishment if you’d ask me. And yet, I don’t feel proud. I feel like I said something very very wrong, I just don’t know what.

“Well, it kind of does somehow-“ Shouyou begins.

“Shouyou, we can discuss this some other time when-“

“Mom.” Shouyou hisses through his teeth, interrupting her. His eyes are serious, his mouth a firm line when he shakes his head at her. “She’s ten, and definitely smarter than me-“ Glad he’s finally admitting that after stating that he was the bigger, and thus smarter, one more than just once. “Let me explain it to her.”

“I have to agree with the boy, sweetie,” grandma tells mom. “I know you’re trying to protect her, but she has questions, and she deserves to have them answered.”

There’s hesitation in mom’s eyes, but she eventually nods. “Alright then.”

Shouyou nods, an almost silent “thank you” leaves his mouth right before he turns to me. “So, mom told you I was in a bus crash right?” he asks me.

I nod. I still wake up really scared sometimes, because mom told me that she had to rush to the hospital right away. When she told me Shouyou got hurt and the hospital in Tokyo had called her that Shouyou had arrived with the ambulance the world around me seemed to stop. She’d already called grandma when she told me, but she couldn’t wait until grandma arrived; she was needed in Tokyo. So, she handed me the phone and told me to watch some television while I waited. Don’t open for anyone, because grandma has a key to the house, and use the phone to call if anything happened.

I waited and waited, expecting to wake up from what appeared to be some bad dream. But I didn’t; grandma arrived some time after mom left and by the time mom called with news in the evening, I was already lying in bed, still hoping to wake up from this nightmare. It didn’t make sense at the time, and it’d be wrong to say if it makes more sense now; I just had more time to be confused as to why my brother’s bus to the training camp had to crash. It might never make sense.

“Well, when we crashed I was sitting in the front of the bus. So, I got really lucky, because that meant the airbag caught me when we crashed,” he tells me, the color drains from his face when he spaces out for a second. I wonder how it feels for him, thinking back to that moment. “So, I was lucky. But at the same time, I wasn’t, because the airbag punched me in my gut causing a big bruise.”

I think back to the big purple splotches on Shouyou’s skin; did the airbag do that?

“And you know how bruises work, right?”

I nod once. Something I learned during biology too. “You bleed on the inside, but the blood gets trapped underneath your skin, making it appear blue or purple.”

“Exactly!” He whispers something to himself along the lines of “damn, she’s smart”. “Well, anyway. That happened for me too, only then the blood was inside of my tummy. A lot of it.”

I stare at him, trying to make sense of every word he says. But at the same time it sounds so unreal, especially when he says that this made him feel really sick all week; normally a bruise doesn't make you feel sick. It hurts when you press it, but not much more.

"That's because the bruise was on my kidneys, which do-" He pauses, thinking about it. "-stuff that keeps your body healthy. But this bruise is keeping my kidneys from doing their work, so because of that I have to be on a machine that does it for them." He pulls down his hoodie, showing me the tubes in his chest. "That's what these are for. At least, until the operation they did on my arm heals."

"Does it hurt?"

He shrugs, covering the tubes up again by letting go of his hoodie. "I'm allowed to take real good-working painkillers, so most of the time it doesn't." That gives me some peace of mind, because it all does look painful.

"So, your kidneys aren't working, so a machine is helping them do so?" I repeat after I've made sense of everything that Shouyou just said. "And what does that have to do with cake?"

Shouyou chuckles before shrugging. "Honestly? No clue." He turns to mom. "Mom?"

Mom smiles carefully before explaining that the doctors put Shouyou on something called a renal diet, which means he should eat food that's low in things like sodium, protein, potassium, or phosphorus. "So he should avoid eating too much of certain things, like cake," she tells me.

"But I can have a little!" Shouyou promises me. "On special occasions." He stuffs a bite of cake his mouth, smiling as he chews.

I feel a little bad about making a cake for someone who shouldn't eat cake. But it's clearly his first delicious food in weeks and he's obviously enjoying it, I smile back at him. "Is it good?"

"Delicious!" There are crumbs on his cheeks, he grins at me. "It's the best 'welcome home' party I could've hoped for!"

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Hitoka Yachi
Monday, 16:00

During a small doctor’s appointment right after school, I get the good news: I won’t be needing my crutches anymore. It’s a big relief that washes over me when the words leave my family-doctor’s mouth, because I’ve been hating having to use the crutches. It was hard to keep reminding myself that I shouldn’t place any stress on my ankle, even though I haven’t been that much pain anymore.

Hence why it surprises me when I rise out of the chair and a harsh pain shoots through my ankle.

I try to suppress the whimper, because mom’s with me and she will definitely let me use my crutches for another age if my ankle’s not ready to carry my weight. But a small “ouch” still escapes my mouth.

“Is something wrong, sweetie?”

I wince, frowning at my foot as the nagging pain lingers in my ankle. Why on Earth is it hurting again? Sure, it hurt when I walked around on it in the forest, but that was over a week ago. It hasn’t hurt one bit in the past days, I haven’t even needed a single painkiller since last Monday.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I lie, straightening my back. I take another step. An obvious mistake as the pain rises again, stinging in my muscles and bones. I hiss through clenched teeth, my fingers digging into the fabric of the chair. “Alright, maybe it’s still a little sore,” I admit, because while I don’t want to depend on crutches for another week, I also kind of don’t want to ruin my ankle.

A gasp escapes from mom’s mouth. “Is that normal?” She glares at our family doctor, like she’s at fault. She did a thorough exam of me, though, carefully turning and twisting it after removing the bandages. Nothing about that hurt even one bit, so I have no clue why it would hurt now.

“That’s not uncommon.“ She shakes her head, before turning to me. “It hasn’t been carrying any weight for about ten days now, right?” I nod in response, to which she replies, “You’ll have to build it up gradually, maybe try walking without the crutches a little less each day. And if it keeps hurting-“ Her eyes dart at mom, almost as if she’s nervous; can’t blame her, mom gets under my skin too. “-it might be best to look into some physical therapy to strengthen your muscles again.”

To me, this sounds totally logic. I wouldn’t mind some physical therapy; they’ll probably just give me a few exercises to perform daily, or something, and then I have to go there every once in a while. Plus, I’m ensured to get a very broad variety of healthcare, including physical therapy. I checked that when I got home after being at the hospital; I wanted to know what my ensurance was, just in case something like this is to happen again. Mom got me a very broad insurance, so I don’t know why she looks so upset when she glances at our family-doctor. Her glare is killing, but she doesn’t say anything except for a quick, “We’ll consider it, thank you.” She smiles, clearly faking her kindness. Something about the statement doesn’t sit right with her, but what? And why?

That’s what I find out as soon as we get outside. As we’re walking towards the car, I’m supporting on my toes only as I half-hop along the pavement, mom suddenly sighs. There’s an angry undertone in her otherwise worried voice when she asks, “Has it been hurting you this much the entire time?”

I shake my head, promising her that it wasn’t that bad. “Not even painful at all, actually.” I wince when I accidently put too much pressure on my foot again, though. “Just more now.”

Mom shakes her head. “Physical therapy,” she whispers to herself, shaking her head some more. “Who would’ve thought it’d get to this?”

I stop walking when we reach the car, turning to face her. “Get to what?”

“I allow you to go to Tokyo on this short trip for a club.“ Mom pinches the bridge of her nose with her fingers, sighing. “I put faith in that teacher of yours.” She scoffs, her eyes are filled with fire when she opens them. “I trusted that he would get you there safely, and he crashed the bus, Hitoka.”

“Mom, I barely got hurt,” I promise her before opening the car’s door on the passenger’s side. As I’m getting in, I make the mistake of adding, “And it’s not like he did it on purpose.” Which unhinges an entirely new lecture from mom.

As soon as she sits down behind the wheel, she tells me that it’s not about whether he did it on purpose or not. “That teacher of yours-“

“Mister Takeda,” I correct her, because that teacher sounds so condescending.

“Mister Takeda, whatever-“ Mom turns the key. “What matters is that he drove recklessly while having twelve high school students in the back of his bus.”

“So?” I whisper after a short second of trying not to let myself snap. I hate that she’s blaming mister Takeda, while we all know that it was pitch black on that road. We saw it as we headed back with the ambulance; all we could see were the flickering lights of the car we were in, everything else was black. It wasn’t his fault; the government should’ve placed some streetlights near such a dangerous slope.

“So?” mom repeats. “He hurt twelve high school students, Hitoka.”

Sure, the crash hurt everyone. We are all hurt, either emotionally or physically, or both. But that includes Takeda himself. If anything, he might be the worst emotionally hurt from all of us. Mom doesn’t know this, but I saw his face when we’d just arrived at the hospital, awaiting news, still unsure about whether this would be good or bad news. I recognize it when someone’s having a nervous breakdown, seeing as I have them so often myself. And he was definitely having one, and something tells me it won’t be his last one.

He blames himself enough. More than enough. He doesn’t need other people blaming him too, especially for something he didn’t do on purpose.

“One of those students is you.” Mom takes her eyes off the road to look at me, I almost correct her on her reckless driving. Tell her about the risks this could have for the both of us if she crashes our car. How it’ll be her fault. But I don’t. Instead I just tell her to please keep her eyes on the road.

I make sure to pay close attention to the road too, just so I can warn her if I need to. I’ve already crashed on my way to a fun time with the team once, I won’t let it happen a second time. I’m going to reach Hinata’s home in one piece, even if it means getting out of this car and walking there in case mom doesn’t stop talking.

Fortunately, that doesn’t happen. After I warn her, mom stops talking and focuses on driving. There’s not a single word that leaves her mouth. Well, that is, until we stop in front of Hinata’s house.

“Those other parents must be going through so much.” She shakes her head to herself. “Our kids got hurt, because we trusted this mister Takeda. We should’ve been able to trust him.” Something tells me this is not empathy I’m feeling, it’s rage, which probably comes from her own feelings; she is going through so much. But that has nothing to do with my ankle, it has to do with the fact that I got just a little mouthier when I’m home. I’m just not scared anymore; I mean, who wouldn’t get a self-esteem boost after surviving such a huge accident. Life’s not long enough to keep listening to my mother like every word she says is the full truth.

And yet, there’s nothing I can say when she suddenly says, “He has to pay for this.” I just stare at her.

“I mean, he hurt our kids; there’s someone in a coma because of him!”

Officially, not anymore; Sugawara informed us of that last Friday.

She grumbles something to herself, shaking her head, before repeating, “Oh, I am going to sue him for what he did to you. To your friends.”

“What?”

“I’ll bring him to court,” she says, but she’s not looking at me. Probably because she knows I don’t agree. “I mean, this can’t be legal, right?”

“He doesn’t deserve to be punished, mom,” I try, but it’s not enough. “He’ll lose everything-“

“Well, maybe he should’ve considered that before causing an accident.”

Tears well up in my eyes as I shake my head. There’s just one emotion inside of me. Disbelief; how could someone be so selfish as to even think about suing someone who did nothing wrong?

I scoff and get out of the car. Just muttering a “thanks for bringing me to Hinata’s” before closing the door behind me. I can’t reason with her, not when she’s like this.

With my heartbeat throbbing in my throat and tears in my eyes, I wobble towards Hinata’s door. I try to get a hold of myself, before ringing the doorbell. I don’t want to ruin our first meeting with almost all of us; even though not everyone will be at Hinata’s, we haven’t been this complete in ages. I’m not ready to make this about me and my stupid, anxiety-inducing mom.

It doesn’t take long, before the door opens and a small girl with curly pigtails appears in the doorway. She looks a lot like Hinata, greeting me with a wide smile and a loud “hello!”.

“Hi.” This little girl automatically puts a smile on my face. “I’m Hitoka Yachi, I’m here for Hinata.”

She steps aside, dramatically gesturing towards the hallway behind her. “They’re all in Shouyou’s room. It’s just down the hallway, on the left.” It takes me a second to remember that Hinata is not actually Hinata’s first name, making it obvious that this girl refers to him as Shouyou. But I wasn’t expecting it for some reason, causing me to hesitate slightly before stepping inside. Hinata’s younger sister notices, immediately telling me that there’s no need to be nervous. She closes the door behind me and says, “I can show you to Shouyou’s room, if you need me to.”

I smile, shaking my head. “Nah, I think I can find it.” I start limping towards Hinata’s room, repeating the instructions Hinata’s sister gave me to myself. Down the hallway, the door on the left.

It doesn’t take me long to find it, though; it’s impossible to miss the sound of a room filled with teenage boys. They’re chatting pretty loudly, and most importantly cheerfully, about something that happened at school. Today has been crazy indeed, teachers allowing us to do things that we normally wouldn’t, especially now our finals week is over. I bet it’ll only get more absurd with every day that passes, seeing as it is the last week of the school-year. It’s a shame Hinata, Nishinoya, Daichi and Sugawara can’t be there to witness it all.

I take a slow breath before knocking on the wooden frame of the closed sliding door. “Hey, I’m here.”

“Yachi!” Hinata squeaks, his voice so happy. “Come in! Come in!”

“Okay!” My breath’s a bit shaky, afraid I will ruin the happy vibe in here. So, I put up a smile and make sure to keep breathing as I slide the door open. Behind the door, Hinata’s room gets revealed. I knew I’d be the last one here, seeing as the others went here right after school, while I had the doctor’s appointment. But it’s still a little absurd to see everyone inside of Hinata’s small room.

Tanaka’s spins around on Hinata’s desk-chair, his chest leaning up against the backrest. He greets me with a wide smile before spinning back towards the others. Yamaguchi and Kiyoko are sitting on chairs that must’ve come from the kitchen, because they look like they don’t belong inside of Hinata’s room. Hinata’s sitting on his bed, in pajamas. Beside him there’s a laptop, displaying a digital video chat with Nishinoya and Sugawara. Kageyama’s also there, but his camera has been turned off, leaving us with a black square where he should be. It looks like Sugawara’s alone, but when we were trying to plan this meet-up in the group chat yesterday, he said if he would look if Daichi wanted to join too. Maybe Daichi wasn’t feeling up to it, because I don’t even think Sugawara’s at the hospital as of now.

Tsukishima and Asahi already told us that they couldn’t make it; Asahi had other plans this evening and Tsukishima, according to his brother who replied for him, wasn’t feeling up to it. As for the other three second years, they really seem to take their distance from group activities lately. I know Tanaka hangs out with Ennoshita, Kinoshita and Narita in school during schoolhours, and they are in the group chat we made some time back, but whenever we plan meetings, they seem to exclude themselves.

Still, it’s a miracle that so many of us are in this room. If you would’ve asked me eleven days ago when we’d be hanging out with the team, I would’ve told you “never”, because the odds of us surviving didn’t really seem in our favor back then. Now, it’s safe to say that we will be complete someday soon.

“Why don’t you sit down, Yachi?” Hinata pats on the bed beside him, on the other side from where the laptop is. “There’s still a spot here, or you could get a chair from the kitchen?”

I tell him I’m fine with sitting on the bed, though it does feel a little uncomfortable when I do so. Unlike Hinata, I make sure to keep my feet on the ground. My eyes also immediately dart towards the ground when I’m being asked how to doctor’s appointment went. “It was okay,” I lie.

“No crutches anymore then?” Nishinoya asks.

It almost feels wrong to smile when I nod. “Yeah, no crutches.” I don’t say “but I will need some physical therapy” because it seems wrong; wining about something like that when especially Nishinoya is one of the people who will need intense therapy for probably his entire life. I will need only a few weeks at most, and it’s not the therapy itself I’m upset about, it’s about mom’s response.

“You look a little sick,” Hinata notices. “Are you feeling okay?”

I shrug, thinking about lying. I just don’t want to kill the mood. I really really do not want to ruin this moment; they were so happy when I got here. But all eyes are fixated on me, and before I know it the words leave my mouth. “My mother wants to press charges against mister Takeda.”

“Whoa- what?” Nishinoya’s squeak makes the boxes of Hinata’s laptop spike. When he sees everyone wincing at the obnoxious sound, he says, “Oops, sorry.” His voice is almost a whisper he repeats, “What? Why would she want to do that?” It’s almost relieving to hear that coming from one of the people who was most injured during the crash; Nishinoya got paralyzed, and he doesn’t blame Takeda.

“She says that mister Takeda tricked everyone’s parents in trusting him,” I explain. “In her opinion he must’ve driven recklessly, and because of that we got hurt and now our parents have to go through this, while they trusted mister Takeda to get us to Tokyo safely.“

“Your mom’s a crazy hag. No offense, Yachi.”

“I agree with Tanaka,” Nishinoya announces. “Also, no offense.”

I shake my head. “None taken.” I’m already glad that they don’t think I am crazy for not blaming Takeda. I know for a fact that we weren’t all immediately on his side; Sugawara clearly felt some anger towards Takeda, but even his eyes are large with disbelief after hearing this news.

“Accidents happen all the time,” Sugawara agrees, nodding to himself. “Sure, mister Takeda was behind the wheel when we crashed, but that didn’t mean he drove down that slope on purpose.”

I nod a couple of times; he couldn’t be more right.

“So, what now?” Yamaguchi asks after a couple of silent seconds. “We cannot let this happen, right?”

I shrug. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Well-“ Kiyoko’s voice is careful when she suggests that my mom might have a good reason to take a step back. “Pressing charges is really expensive, so maybe-” Her voice trails off when she notices that all eyes are looking at her. She directs her eyes to the floor. “Maybe she decides it’s too expensive?”

I wish I could tell her that she’s right, but I know for a fact that she’s not. “My mom has more than enough money. She won’t care about the price.” I shake my head “As long as she isn’t proven to be wrong about mister Takeda, she will sue him.”

“Well, she’ll first have to have a reason to sue him, right? What if there isn’t any?” Nishinoya suggests.

“I’ll look it up.” Yamaguchi gets his phone from his pocket, immediately starting to type. His face scrunches up into a grimace after a couple of minutes of intense and silent reading. “Here’s an article: Legally, you can sue someone for any amount in court. The only criteria which has to be met, is that there is a valid cause of action.” He pauses, looking up at us. “If she thinks this is a valid reason, she can definitely sue mister Takeda for what happened to us.”

“Damn it!” Nishinoya’s microphone spikes again, this time he doesn’t apologize.

“I’m so sorry.” Tears well up in my eyes, because it feels like it’s my fault. It’s my fault that Takeda is going to be sued; he might actually lose his job because of this. And if we don’t find a way to stop her from doing so, it will be my fault, because I didn’t put up with my pain well enough. Because I didn’t stand up to her as much as I should have.

A hand rests on my shoulder. When I look up, Hinata’s eyes stare right into mine. “I think I can speak for all of us when I say this is not your fault, Yachi.” He glances at the group. “And I’m sure we’ll work hard together to make sure that mister Takeda won’t go to prison.”

I blink away my tears. “Really?”

“Really,” everyone simultaneously says, even Kageyama who’s been silent this entire time.

This tells me enough; we’re all on the same page here. We, as a team, will make sure that my mom won’t press charges. And even if she does, we’ll stand on Takeda’s side in the court of justice just like he has always stood on our side at the volleyball court.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Asahi Azumane
Monday, 17:18

Nerves rush through my body as I walk up the stairs, to where the descriptions said I should go. The building is large, which makes sense, a lot of people get therapy and prefer these large buildings. It’s nothing like going to a family doctor; I don’t have to wait in a waiting room, which makes it much more anonymous. It’s kind of nice that it’s big and I barely run into anyone on my way to the counseling room. But it does make it pretty hard to find my way to the right room.

I eventually do find the right room. I’m a couple of minutes late for our appointment, though, so instead of waiting outside, I knock on the door. “I have an appointment with-“ I roll up my sleeve a little to reveal both the room number and my therapist’s name. “-miss Chisaka?”

“That’s me!” A female voice sounds from behind the door. “You can come in!”

I roll my sleeve back down, not wanting to show her how nervous I am before even introducing myself. I was so extremely nervous, though, that the information mom told me wouldn’t stick unless I wrote it down somewhere. A piece of paper can get lost and I left my phone at home, so writing it on my arm was my best bet of actually reaching it to the counseling room. After covering it up, I push through the door, entering a small, dimly lit room with a desk in the middle.

“Good evening, Azumane,” the young woman behind the desk says. She gestures at the seat on the other side of the desk, “Why don’t you take a seat?” She pauses before asking me if I want a drink.

I shake my head. I haven’t been hungry or thirsty all day, the nerves about going to therapy have been getting to me. Causing me to have a stomachache since I woke up this morning, I almost called in sick for school, but I didn’t want to let Kiyoko walk to our classroom and spend our breaks all alone. It would be too dangerous, with everyone watching us like hawks, ready to feast on our trauma.

I sit down in the chair, sinking away into the leather. It seems like an old chair that has witnessed a lot; when I rest my hands on the armrests, I notice the indents where fingernails probably dug into it. I don’t particularly enjoy the way it sends shivers down my spine, so I place my hands in my lap instead.

The woman takes a small sip from her glass of water, before introducing herself as Yua Chisaka.

I nod once. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s mine.” She shows me a kind smile, not too wide but genuine. “Feeling nervous at all?”

The question catches me off guard. I obviously am nervous, but I didn’t think she would ask it so directly; am I that obvious about it? I shrug once before admitting, “Yeah, I am kind of nervous. Yeah.”

“That’s totally okay, everyone always gets a little nervous, especially during these first sessions,” she promises. “You wouldn’t say, but it’s even somewhat scary to me; these first sessions, because I don’t really know you at all and you don’t know me either.”

I chuckle awkwardly. “Yeah.” I’m kind of glad she feels the same.

“Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?” she asks. “Your interests, family and friends?”

“Uh-“ My eyes shift down to my lap; I thought I was here to talk about what happened. The accident.

After a couple of seconds, miss Chisaka asks, “Would it maybe be easier if I introduce myself first?”

Sounds like a good idea. I nod once. I don’t even know why I feel so uncomfortable, maybe it’s because I know I’m going to have to open up my heart to her, when I have been keeping the accident to myself for the most part. Even with with the rest of the team, who were all there with me, I haven’t talked about it much. We talk about the aftermath all the time; how everyone’s doing, but not the actual crash. Not the way I still hear Nishinoya’s screams each and every night when I fall asleep.

So having to work up the courage to talk about it so suddenly makes me feel a little faint.

“Alright.” She ticks with her pen on the piece of paper in front of her, thinking about what she’ll tell me. “I’m thirty-one years old and I have been working as a therapist for about seven years now. I usually see kids a little younger than you, anywhere between seven and eighteen. I also have two kids who are quite a bit younger than you.” She pauzes before asking, “Do you have any siblings, or are you an only child?”

“I have an older sister,” I tell her. “She’s two and a half year older than me. We get along pretty well.”

“And your parents? Are they still together?”

I nod. “Yes, they are. They barely ever fight.” Apart from the times they fought about whether I should go to therapy or not, but I won’t tell her that that caused some friction between mom and dad.

“I’m glad to hear that.” Her hand writes along as I speak, but it’s barely even noticeable. She looks up after writing, her eyes urge me to talk on, but I have no clue what to say. I can feel the chills on my spine, dancing to the silence I create. “Uhm-“ I manage, my cheeks go warm and my eyes dart away.

“Do you have any pets?”

“Y-Yes! We had a hamster when I was younger.” I always wanted a dog, but my dad’s allergic, so we got a hamster instead. I loved it to death, but his lifespan wasn’t very long. It broke me when he died.

Each morning, I kept walking to his empty cage, ready to give him food. Each morning, I cried.

I was so devastated about the loss that the entire world around me seemed to fade a little.

Looking back on in, that’s probably why I lost some weight lately. And why I almost always forget that walking around looking gloomy is going to upset people. It’s because for the past weeks, my focus has been on Nishinoya soley; I am partially at fault for the loss of the mobility in his legs, after all.

But a message that came earlier this weekend managed to puncture through that bubble of tunnelvision for a bit; the second I saw a selfie of Sugawara with Daichi, who’d just come out of his coma, made me realise how fixated I’d been on Nishinoya. It was like I could literally hear bubble around me shatter, finally letting the world back in. Because in that instance, I realized my two other best friends were still in Tokyo. It hit me that, maybe, I should’ve called Sugawara from time to time, because the guy must’ve gone through so much in the past days. He probably was in an even worse place than me, considering Daichi’s been in a coma all that time. Our best friend, was in a coma, and going from the picture Sugawara send us, is still not doing great. And I didn’t once call to see how they were doing, because I was too busy obsessing over the situation I felt I’d had a hand in.

I thought I blamed myself a lot for what happened to Nishinoya, but the fact that it made me lose track of how my other friends were doing made me feel even more guilty. So guilty, I barely was able to reply to the cheery message Sugawara had send in the group chat. Because I know it’s no excuse that’s just how my body reacts to change; my mind just locks itself away from the world as a coping mechanism. Still, I should’ve paid more attention to my other friends too.

Anyway, because the exact same happened after the loss of my hamster, mom and dad decided that it would be the first and last time I got a pet. I just couldn’t handle the change after losing it.

It wouldn’t be the last time that I had an extremely hard time dealing with change; I went through the same when I left elementary school and had to go to middle school, and then after a couple of years to high school. Each time I’d gone through such a major change, I’d get caught in my little bubble of anxiety. And often times it took quite a long time to puncture through it and get me back to myself again. That’s why I didn’t have many friends in middle school, and only made my first friends when my sister prompted I’d join the volleyball team, because I kept mentally missing out on the first introductions. I was just too wrapped up in my own anxiety surrounding the change.

It’s actually no miracle that I have a hard time each morning I head to school; while I miss the first-years, it’s especially Nishinoya, Daichi and Sugawara not being there that really bothers me. I can notice it in everything; my appetite, my concentration. Even things like neck pain and chest aches.

“We don’t have any pets anymore, though,” I say, after a couple of seconds, forcefully dragging my mind away from the spiral it’s going down. I’ve been going down it for weeks now, no longer. Please.

Chisaka nods a couple of times, humming understandingly. “Do you plan on having any in the future?”

I shrug. “I might.” I pauze before admitting, “I don’t really have any discrete plans for the future-“ I used to have them, but it’s like they also went up in smoke after the crash. Like they just faded away, because the previously realistic dreams seemed to sound more and more like a mere fantasy. “I used to want to go to college-“ Even applied to some and took entrance tests, I knew exactly what I wanted to do and who I wanted to become. I was excited for life after graduating. “But in hindsight it doesn’t feel like now’s the right moment, so I might just end up taking a gap-year anyway.”

“How come?” she asks after a while. When she doesn’t get a response, she gently adds, “What made your plans change?” I wonder if she’s even read the longwinded e-mail mom sent her with my reason for planning this first session, because it seems like she’s got no clue what happened this month.

I shrug, again, not sure what to tell her. “Things just changed. I don’t know, it feels wrong to start now.”

She makes a quick note. “Alright.” Her smile is gentle when she says, “Things can change, indeed. Would you say a lot has changed? Besides your plans, I mean?”

What can I tell her? I wonder, not really comfortable enough around her yet to tell her about the one big thing that turned my entire life upside down. “Since childhood, you mean?” I ask when I feel like I’m silent for too long.

“For instance, yeah,” she replies. “Do you feel any changes in how you feel or react to things.”

I take a moment to think; I feel it in a lot. In way too much. And I know others see it too, it’s what drove my family to arrange this session with a psychologist after all. “I feel like I sleep less-“ No that’s not it. “I have more nightmares,” I correct myself. “I mean, I always had them when I was little, but I hadn’t had any for ages until-“ We crashed and every time I close my eyes the images haunt me. I swallow thickly, before lying and saying, “But that’s okay. I can deal with that.” I avert my eyes, feeling shameful for lying to someone who’s supposed to help me, but it’s like there’s still a lock somewhere in my mind that’s keeping me from talking about what happened.

I hear a pen scribbling down something. After it stops, Chisaka doesn’t speak straight away. Instead, there’s a silence, that feels like it lasts both too short and way too long, before Chisaka asks, “How about friends? Do you have a club or some school-friends to hang out with on a regular basis?”

I shift in my seat, suddenly feeling really uncomfortable. “I do.” I swallow thickly, feeling how chills dance through my gut, making me feel sick. “I had- uh, have-“ I lower my head even further, wondering if I still have team Karasuno. I’m not doubting whether they’re still my friends, they all were extremely sad when I told them I couldn’t make it to Hinata’s tonight; something I hadn’t expected after not asking anyone but Nishinoya for updates for days. I’m just wondering whether we’re still that same team; can we still be called Karasuno’s Volleyball Club when half of us may never play again?

I go silent, unable to speak. My heart is racing again, like each time it does when I think about it.

Her eyebrows perk up. “Is it the contact with them, has that changed lately?”

When I look up at Chisaka, she’s looking at me with interested eyes. She asked a question, now she’s waiting for an answer. But her body language is calm, laid back, like she’s telling me to take my time.

I take a slow breath, thinking about how I’m going to explain this. I decide to start at the beginning, by simply telling her, “That’s why I’m here, actually.”

She leans forwards in her chair. “Because of your friends?”

“Not exactly because of them, but-“ How the Hell do I say this? How do the others tell this to people? I try to think back to when I called mom and dad on the phone to tell them about what happened, trying to repeat the words I said back then, because it at least got across the point. I’ll see from there. “A little over a week ago me and my friends, we’re a volleyball club, were on our way to a training camp in Tokyo.” I take quick, shallow breaths in between words, allowing myself time to think. “It was dark, and most of us were sleeping when it happened-“ Images of waking up to the screeching tires, people flying through the air. Nishinoya flying through the air. They rush into my mind. I feel sick, like my stomach’s still turning like it did when we rolled down that slope.

“When what happened, exactly?” Chisaka encourages me to continue.

“We-“ My breathing gets faster. “Our car- we-“ I close my eyes. “We crashed.” My lungs wine and tears prick behind my eyes as I think back to how it all went down. What I have been pushing down since the accident, what I need to push down each morning when I wake up, it all comes up again. “Some of my friends got hurt really badly.” I’m not ready to tell her about how Nishinoya got paralyzed because I moved him when I should’ve known about his spinal injury. I’m not ready to tell her about Daichi having been in a coma because he hit his head really hard. I’m not ready to tell her about anyone’s injuries, really. “Some of them are still dealing with that. And here I am, not injured at all.”

Chisaka takes a moment, clearly allowing everything I just told her to sink in. I feared that she would look at me differently, I don’t know, blame me in some way. Like I do. But her expression isn’t anything like that. “How did that make you feel? Not being physically injured when some of your friends were?”

“Lucky-“ I shake my head. That’s not the right word. Never since we crashed, did I feel lucky. The press and everyone at school, even the doctors and my parents, keep pressing how lucky I was to have survived. How lucky everyone is to come out of a crash like that alive. But “lucky” is not exactly the right word; I don’t think any of us feel lucky. “Lucky” is how I’d felt if everything would’ve stayed the way it was. “I feel-“ Terrible. At fault. Anxious. Like I should’ve gotten hurt, but I didn’t. I hesitate before telling her, “There isn’t really one word to describe it, I think.”

“How so?”

“It’s more like a chain of questions, rather than one feeling,” I explain, staring down at my lap as I do so. “But eventually it all comes down to this uncertainty; like, how am I supposed to feel after surviving an accident like this one? Do I feel grief, even though I haven’t lost anything? Do I feel angry or sad about what happened? Do I feel changed or is there just something missing?” I look up at her through the tears that blur my vision. “But it seems like there’s no answer to be found, which makes me literally feel sick-“ I swallow, staring down at my shaking hands. “-and anxious.”

Chisaka nods, taking a slow breath that somehow also encourages me to take a full breath for the first time since I started talking. After a couple of seconds she speaks, her voice low and gentle, as if she’s trying her best not to scare me away. “I want to start off by saying that there’s no one way you’re supposed to feel.” Her eyes are kind, compassionate. “Everyone reacts differently; where someone might be severely injured in a big crash and doesn’t feel any mental impact, someone who accidentally hit a streetlight and scratched their car might be terrified of driving after that experience.”

“I have been feeling terrified,” I admit. “I wasn’t injured, but I still feel like a part of me is hurting when I think back to the crash. Each time I relive it I get so scared, so terrified.” I take a slow breath. “It’s actually painful when it happens, I genuinely get sick. Whenever I relive it, it’s like a piece of me dies.”

There’s another silence. “Now, I don’t know what you’re feeling because I am not you, but going from what you’re saying, I have a feeling that I know what you might be dealing with.”

My eyes snap up at her. “Really?” If she knows, that’s only good. She’s a psychologist. She can fix this.

She nods slowly, before gently saying, “I think you might be experiencing an acute stress disorder.”

I stare at her with large eyes. “What-“ That’s the thing soldiers have when they just get back from war after seeing their friends being blown up by landmines, it’s not what you get from- this. Right?

“I know it sounds really extreme,” she says, probably because of the expression on my face. “But ASD is something a lot of people go through after going through something traumatic.” Her eyes meet mine and she smiles, again not in a happy way, just empathetically. “The good news for you-“

There’s good news?

“-is that there are also a lot of tips and tricks I know when it comes to be the master over your ASD.”

I squint at her. “Are there?” I want to know. Any tip or trick that can help me fall asleep at night without having to go through all of that again. I don’t want to hear Nishinoya’s screams anymore, I don’t want to relive seeing Ukai carrying Kageyama from the burning bus or Sugawara crying as he stood by Daichi’s side while he was going through a massive seizure. I don’t want to relive any of it anymore.

“There are,” she promises me. “And if you’ll allow me, I can teach you all of the ones you need. Okay?”

I nod a couple of times. “Yes. Yes! Please.”

She tells me to start off by doing some breathing exercises and distracting myself with something I enjoy if I feel the anxiety creeping up on me. “Focusing on taking deep breaths is a good place to start when it comes to this,” she explains. “We’ll see what tips and tricks are useful for you from there on out.” She grabs her agenda. “How about we make a second appointment in about a week or so from now? To see how things are going with the breathing exercises?”

I nod. “I would like that, yes.” I think these sessions might actually help me.

I walk through the large doors a little later, after thanking Chisaka for the first tips. The cold air pricks inside of my eyes, which were already aching from the tears. I blink the pain and tears away, focusing on nothing else other than finding mom’s car in the darkness.

There she is, standing against her car, waving at me. She didn’t force me to go, I told her I wanted to try too, but she still looks a little guilty when I burst into tears as soon as I reach her. She wraps her arms around me, hushing me. “Was it so terrible?”

I bury my head against her shoulder, shaking it in response to her question. “It wasn’t-“ I swallow thickly, there’s been this lump in my throat all this time and I can’t get it to leave. “It wasn’t terrible at all.” A sob escapes from my mouth. “Just-“

“Just what?” mom carefully asks, she sounds worried.

“I just didn’t expect it would be so nice to just-“ I sniffle. “-be allowed to talk about it. You know?”

Mom strokes my back. “I know.” I know she knows, otherwise she wouldn’t have wanted me to go.

I hug her a little tighter, knowing that the words I’m about to say will never be enough to fully show her how thankful I am that she pushed me out of my comfort zone. Because of her, I’m going to deal with this chance. I’m going to deal with the aftermath of surviving a car crash. “Thank you so much.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Yuu Nishinoya
Tuesday, 09:00

Everything about this morning is so extremely exciting. I already announced it in a big way when I was calling with Sugawara, Kageyama and everyone at Hinata’s house; this would be the last time I would be calling them with the terrible connection that I have in this hospital all the way in Tokyo.

That’s because, in not so very long, I’m traveling to a rehabilitation centre in Miyagi. Maybe during our next meet-up with the team, I might actually be able to see if I can go there in real life. Or maybe they can visit me instead. We’ll have to see how laid back the rehabilitation centre is when it comes to visitors; most places prefer not to have eight to eleven teenagers visiting all at once.

But I don’t really care about that; sure, I like the ability to see my friends again. As a social person, spending most of my days alone with me, my spinal injury and my thoughts, have been killing me. Not literally, of course, but they also haven’t really been helping with healing either.

What matters even more is that, while I’ve been getting a little bit of physical therapy here, I’m now heading to a special place that is specialized in physical rehabilitation. I looked them up and it says that they’re specialized in people with paralysis, like me, but also in rehab after strokes or amputations. Basically everything that has to do with intense physical therapy to get back to living a normal life again. Their website says they even got some people with paralysis back to walking with a cane. I wonder if that’s an opportunity for me, I wouldn’t mind needing a cane if it meant I’d walk again. I’ll have to ask my physical therapist there about that, in hopes they’re a bit less close-minded than the one that’s “treating” be here. Every day, he just gives me a few small stretches, called passive physical therapy. And each time I ask him when I’ll be trying to walk with help of those walk-bar-thingies, he reminds me that I’m paralyzed. Though, I’ve seen that it’s not impossible; some people walk again.

If I try hard enough, and have someone supporting me when I do that, I might too.

The only useful thing I’ve been doing here is wheelchair practice in one of the bigger gyms upstairs. Learning the best ways to push the wheelchair with my hands to get myself around the hospital. This will be helpful once I’m at a rehabilitation centre, it’s best to have the basics down.

But each time I had wheelchair practice, I had to be helped into a wheelchair by my physical therapist. I thought it’d just be a one-time thing, needing his help, but I still need it. Even this morning, he had to transfer me into one, because he didn’t even teach me to do it by myself yet.

“Those are things they’ll teach you at the rehabilitation centre,” he told me when I asked him about it yesterday afternoon, when he helped me back into bed again. He said he’s just here for the passive exercises; making sure I don’t get pressure sores or experience more phantom pain. I had that once, the extreme pain like my legs were cramping so much it felt like they were on fire, and I never want to have to go through that again. That is what he’s for. But his stretches aren’t helping me regain any strength. It’s also not helping me live with my disability; all it does is annoy the crap out of me.

I’m glad I’ll be leaving. That’s all I can think of as I sit in the wheelchair the hospital lend me, waiting for grandpa to finish talking to Akihiko about my transfer to Miyagi’s rehabilitation centre. I have my hands around the wheels, pushing myself back and forth as I wait. And wait. And wait.

I wish the time would go by faster, I’m boring myself to death here.

I lean back and sigh loudly. My neck and shoulders immediately complain about the movement, something my body didn’t do before I started wheelchair practice. I talked with Akihiko about it, afraid it had something to do with my injury; I don’t know, maybe it was moving up my spine? I didn’t want to get permanently paralyzed from the neck down because of some complication I didn’t speak up about, so I just casually told him during a morning check-up some time ago.

Akihiko told me not to worry about it, though. The back brace they’d been having me wear most of the time was making sure that my spine wouldn’t shift or get injured to any bigger extend, so it wasn’t that. He told me it was probably because the hospital didn’t have wheelchairs available that were right for me. At first I thought he meant for people my length, but I then found out that he instead was referring to the hospital’s standard, free-to-use wheelchairs weren’t great for people with my type of injury. They were meant for people to be pushed by their caregivers, not for independent use like the one I was in need of. I mean, I surely do not want to be dependant of my grandpa; I want to go outside and, I don’t know, do things without always needing someone available.

But anyway, the gist of it all was that I was going to have to rent or buy a wheelchair that’s more suitable for independent use once I get to Miyagi; one with a lower backrest, a lighter frame and bigger wheels, preferably with some cool design if the choice is mine. Until then I’ll have to use this very uncomfortable, heavy one, which takes a toll on my back, neck and shoulders.

I reach up with my arm, massaging my shoulder until it feels a little less sore. Maybe I shouldn’t have “paced” down my room so much for the past minutes. But I cannot sit still, not when I’m this excited about heading back to Miyagi and starting a whole new chapter of my healing-process.

I need something to do. Anything at all.

I glance at my phone, which is lying on the bed. There are still a few people I haven’t been able to tell about my return to Miyagi. Tsukishima, for instance, wasn’t at the meet-up at Hinata’s yesterday, and Yachi wasn’t there yet when I told them about it. Obviously Daichi’s one of them as well, but Sugawara promised he would inform Daichi of the entire team’s progress as soon as he saw him again in the morning. And then there’s Asahi, who also was absent. I’d been so excited about sharing the news with the entire team and him not being there kind of ruined it. When I asked him about his absence, he told me he just couldn’t make it; he had other plans yesterday evening. Maybe some family business to attend, maybe some chick who entered his life while I wasn’t there? I asked, but he wouldn’t tell.

I want to tell him, though. If anyone deserves to know, it’s Asahi; he’s been supporting me all this time.

I push myself towards the bed, leaning over the way-too-high armrest before reaching my phone. I unlock it and head to our chat. I don’t text him about whether I can call or not, because I know he might not reply to a single text message, so instead I call him right away. This is something that cannot wait until he has time; I will be sitting in the car for five hours straight in a little bit and I want to see him when I tell him. I need Wi-Fi, I won’t have that in the car. And I don’t want to wait till later.

The phone rings twice before Asahi’s sleepy voice sounds through my phone. His camera flashes on not much later, revealing his long hair sticking in every directions. He clearly just woke up.

“Hi!” I say, and going from the wince on his face, I peaked his mic. “Shit, sorry!” Another peak. I don’t know why it keeps doing that; I’m so glad when I can just be loud without accidentally giving others’ a headache again. “Just woke up, I see?”

“Yup.” Asahi yawns, rubbing in his eyes. “You?”

“Nah, I’ve been up for hours.” That’s not an understatement; I was up at five for a final full-body check up to make sure that everything was good before I left; my catheter was still in place, I’d started regaining some muscle weight again after starting the physical therapy which put me back to a less-concerning type of being underweight and, of course the biggest shock, my legs were still paralyzed. All good to go for my trip to the rehabilitation centre.

“Ah-“ Asahi goes silent for a second, taking his hand through his messy hair, only making it messier. “Why did you call?” His eyes look at me through his screen. “Is something up?”

I shrug. “I wouldn’t say something’s up, but yeah, I have news if that’s what you mean.” I smile.

Asahi frowns, seemingly concerned. “What?”

“In a couple of hours, we won’t be hours apart anymore,” I hint.

“What?” he repeats, even more confused now. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I roll my eyes. “You’re a lost cause,” I mutter before announcing the big news. “I’m being transferred to a rehab centre, in Miyagi!” I show him a wide smile, which he returns after he has his second of shock.

“Oh my God! Really?” he shouts. “That’s amazing news!”

“I know right!” A rush of excitement rushes through me. “I’ll be starting full on therapy, not just stretches anymore. I’ll be climbing ramps with my wheelchair and transferring into a different chair or bed-“ A knock on the door moves my attention away from the phone for a second, my voice trails off.

Grandpa walks into the room, mouthing, “Yuu, we have to go.” when he sees I’m talking on the phone.

“Oh, okay-“ I say, nodding in response. I turn back to Asahi, apologizing. “I’m leaving now, so-“

“Yes! Go!” Asahi tells me. “I’ll visit you as soon as I’m allowed to, okay?”

I nod, promising him I’ll make sure he’s allowed to visit sooner than later. “See you then!”

“See you!” He smiles brightly, until we’re about to end our call. Just before we hang up, his smile falters. His voice is soft, yet worried, when he says, “Make sure you get home safely, okay?”

“I will,” I promise, even though we both know it’s a promise I can’t make. I just don’t want him to worry, he won’t admit it to me or himself, but I know he’s got more than enough worries going on. “I’ll text you when I get there.”

He hesitates before nodding. “Alright.”

We tell each other goodbye again, before ending the call.

My breath’s a little shivery when I admit, out loud, that I am so excited; excited as in a good, happy type of feeling, but also as in, I might have a nervous breakdown. Not in the Asahi-type-of-way of course, I don’t do those anymore. But I might still have a small one, where my heart beats way too fast and taking a full breath gets a little harder. That’s what the thought of travelling does to me.

“I’m excited for you too, Yuu,” grandpa says. I can tell that he truly is; he’s visibly been hating the way I wasn’t allowed to make myself more useful and independent. He wants me to be able to do things by myself again too. Independent and useful; that’s how he raised me, so of course he’s excited for me.

But even the fearless old-man clearly also has some nerves. They especially show when we’re getting into the car. He’s behind the wheel and I’m being transferred into the front seat by a nurse. He keeps acting a little snappy towards her, like he’s afraid she’ll drop me. But I know that’s not it; he knows these nurses have been taking good care of me, and I would’ve been screaming if the transfer into the car was hurting me, but it isn’t painful whatsoever. His anger rises from the fear of me getting into a car again after getting seriously injured last time I was inside of a driving vehicle.

“Are you sitting alright?” the nurse asks me once she’s safely placed me in the passenger’s seat.

“Yup,” I tell her. “Thank you.”

She nods, wishing us a safe ride home, before closing the door. I double-check whether it’s closed by pushing with my arm against the door. It’s closed. Once that’s established, I fasten my seatbelt.

I glance at grandpa, who’s sitting behind the wheel with a concentrated look on his face. Even though we’re still standing still in the parking lot, he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. He never does that, even before my accident he’d always have his eyes fixated on the road. He would pull over, even if it was not allowed, to lecture me and my sisters if we were making too much noise in the back seat.

He’s the safest driver I know.

“Are we ready to leave?” I carefully ask him when we’re still not moving after a few seconds passed.

“Maybe,” grandpa replies before reaching to the key. “Do you have your seatbelt on?”

I double check, even though I clearly remember fastening it. It’s there, nice and tight, keeping me in place. “Yup,” I reply with a nod. I think I will always be double-checking from now on. If there’s one plus that came from this injury it’s that there’s no way I’ll ever be forgetting to fasten my seatbelt again.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Ittetsu Takeda
Tuesday, 12:28

I promised myself I would start making lunch in time, just like I promised myself to get out of bed before nine this morning. Yet, here I am, still in bed and already too late for lunch. I did get up, a couple of hours ago, but that was only to get myself a cup of coffee in hopes it would give me the energy to actually do something today. My days since I got home have been spend slowly, seeing as the higher-ups at Karasuno High School are still trying to figure out when and whether I can come back; a lot has happened, they can’t just let me go back to doing my job again, not when everyone in the school knows that I was the one behind the wheel when the bus crashed.

So for the past days, I didn’t set an alarm. I didn’t care if I slept till the clock chimed two in the afternoon and I didn’t even feel remotely bad about staying in bed the other part of the day. I ate, a little, and I found out that pajamas are actually much more comfortable than pants, a shirt and tie. But my clothes are starting to reek, I feel disgusting, so today’s plan was to get up earlier and take a shower. I even set an alarm clock and all, not that I actually sleep that well at night, with nightmares waking me up every hour or so. But I haven’t even seen the shower yet.

It’s like there’s this gravity keeping me pinned to the bed. This exhaustion that begs me to please remain under the covers and try to catch some sleep, even if that seems impossible. And that fatigue is so extremely big that I cannot fight against it, even after my coffee would’ve normally started working.

I stare at the ceiling. I blink a few times when a tone rings in my ear, my eyes feel dry and tired. I lay here for a second, thinking that the tone will go away, just like I waited for at least twenty minutes before realizing I’d have to turn off my alarm clock if I wanted it to stop blaring. This is different though; it’s not like the alarm, it won’t be ringing for twenty minutes. It’s my doorbell and someone is ringing it. It’s my job to answer, right now. Or at least, decide whether I want to or not.

I turn onto my side, dragging myself out from underneath the blankets. As I sluggishly walk towards the door, I wonder who might be visiting me at this absurd hour; I mean, isn’t it lunch time? Maybe it’s my boss wanting to inform me that I’m fired. I would fire me if I was my own boss; I mean, who wants a teacher that nearly killed twelve students and a colleague. No one.

So, there’s obviously a large part of me that doesn’t want to open the door. I look like trash and I’m afraid of who it will be. But I tell myself I have to, because for all I know, it could also be my boss calling to tell me I can start working again. Which would make me feel better, because I forgot how tough it is not to be able to go to work; for years, I’ve worked all days, except for breaks, and even during vacations I try to have things to do. I’m not someone who just can do nothing all day, especially after everything that happened, it just gives me too much time to think about every mistake I made.

But all that good hopes turns back to me not wanting to open the door when I see the shadow of someone that has a much broader and taller build than my boss. It could be anyone for all I know; the press, wanting to hear more about the “amazing” story about how I got my students hospitalized. Or the police, calling to let me know that I did something unforgivable and will be in jail for life. Or maybe someone from the hospital, to tell me that Ukai, Daichi or Kageyama passed away even though they were thought to be in the clear.

The fact that no one died is the only thing that’s keeping me going right now. It’s the only reason I can tell myself that it could’ve been worse; at least I didn’t kill anyone. But if I open up and it is really someone with bad news, I might just turn myself in at the police for involuntary manslaughter or something. And I wouldn’t be able to allow myself to ever participate in traffic again.

With a racing heart and trembling hands, I open the door. A man in suit stands in front of me.

“Good morni- uh, afternoon,” I stammer, my head feeling like I’m surrounded by clouds, making everything feel foggy. I hide slightly behind the door, making sure the tall man in suit doesn’t spot my messy, crinkly pajama pants. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” his voice is deep, a little intimidating, but not unkind. “Are you Ittetsu Takeda?”

I hesitate before nodding, it seems a bit strange, asking for that while he could also look at the nameplate that’s right beside my apartment’s door. “Yes, that’s me.” I pause before asking, “Why?” There’s something about this man making me nervous. Even more nervous as he opens up a large leather bag with brown envelopes and starts searching. I stand there, with a pounding heart, as I watch him carefully lift one out. My hands are shaky when he hands it to me.

I look down at the brown envelope. I hesitate before carefully saying, “Thank you?” It feels wrong, but I’m not sure why; I’ve never gotten a letter like this, and most of Miyagi’s postal services don’t have their postmen dress so neatly. It seems off. But I cannot put my finger on it.

 Not until after the man leaves with a polite nod. Not after I close the door behind me, and I’ve walked all the way back to my bed, not really in the mood to open up the letter I just got. I sit down on my mattress, sinking into it. A sigh escapes from my mouth as I stare down at the envelope in my lap. It seems important and yet everything inside of me screams that I should just leave it closed. That I should just lay back down, and that I can deal with my post a little later. Tomorrow, maybe.

But I know it’s not smart to leave it lying around; just like my plans to shower, I might never get to it.

“Alright then-“ I whisper to myself, using my nails to get in underneath the glued edge of the envelope. It carefully tear it open, making sure not to damage it too much.

I take a deep breath once it’s opened all the way, not sure if I really want to do this. But I force myself to at least have a look at what’s inside. I turn the envelope upside down, allowing a long letter to slide out and onto my lap. At the top of the letter, there’s a sentence that makes my stomach turn.

There it is, the one thing I’ve been dreading, yet I knew would be coming at some point sooner than later. There it’s said, in thick black characters, “Complaint and demand for jury trial”.

I try to read on, but my hands are trembling so much that I can’t even properly see the paragraphs that are written below. I stare at the letter, counting the causes of action; there’s six bulletpoints with longer paragraphs about what I did wrong, and a short one at the very end. A short paragraph wherein someone, I don’t know who yet, demands a claim of almost 240.250 yen. That’s more than what I earn each month!

My vision gets blurry as the realization washes over me; I did something unforgiving. Something that will leave me broke, probably resulting in me losing my already tiny apartment. I shake my head.

“This can’t be true,” I whisper to myself. I blink a couple of times, hoping and praying that I’ll just wake up, but the letter doesn’t disappear. Just like the crash I caused, this complaint is clearly real.

I take a slow breath before turning the letter back around. I have to know who send me this; which one of the kids, or rather which parent, has decided that the damage I did was just too much? Was it Daichi’s mother? I wouldn’t blame her, from what I’ve heard Daichi might never recover fully. Or was it Kageyama’s sister or Nishinoya’s grandfather, whose loved ones got so severely hurt because of me that they, also, will be disabled for forever? Maybe it was Hinata’s mother or Tsukishima’s, they also had to go through a few invasive and expensive surgeries before they got to get home. Hell, it could’ve been anyone, it could even be my boss, claiming the costs of the bus I completely wrecked.

But when I see the name at the very top of the letter, I see the name of someone I least expected.

“Madoka Yachi, plaintiff,” it says in small, cursive kanji at the top of the page. Announcing that she, the mother of Hitoka Yachi, filed this complaint with a demand for a jury trial and a large amount of money. I stare at her name, wondering why; why her? Why not the people whose children had to go through invasive treatment after suffering life-changing injuries? Why not the people whose children are dealing with the mental consequences of the crash? Not saying that Yachi didn’t suffer any injuries; her ankle got sprained and, while I can’t look into her brain, the crash probably also had an impact on her mentally. Just like it did for each and every one of us.

I take a slow breath, telling myself that there’s no reason to be confused. Or frustrated with Yachi’s mother for suing me. It’s a miracle that she’s the first parent to file a complaint against me; if I had children who’d been involved in this crash, I also would’ve sued the driver, no doubt.

But that doesn’t make this letter hurt any less.

I feel nauseated, a little lightheaded, as I try to read on. But the words just blur into each other as I try to make sense of what she’s saying. After what feels like an eternity, I finally reach the end. Certain words still drift through my mind, making me feel sick. She called me neglecting, she called what I did malpractice and aggravated assault. She spoke about everything I did, everyone I hurt, like they’re number and facts. Not like they were actual people that I hurt, which somehow makes it even more painful; will everyone, Yachi, Kiyoko, Daichi, Nishinoya, Kageyama, Hinata, Sugawara, Asahi, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Tanaka and Ukai, just be seen as numbers from now? Just some victims of a crash?

I clench my fist around the paper. Feeling absolutely horrified by the things she mentioned. About the things I did. The things I now will have to deny happened before my deadline.

I have to defend my side of the story. But what is my side of the story? Is it any better than hers?

I wish I could say she’s lying. I wish I could grab a piece of paper now and deny each and every word she spoke about the things I did in this letter. But there’s not a single part of me that feels like writing a defense, not even if that means I’ll automatically lose this case. I feel tired, so extremely exhausted. And, to be honest, I can’t think of any reasons claim that I didn’t do this.

Because I did do this; I am the person who neglected my role as a driver as soon as I took my eyes off the road, even if it was just for a fraction of a second. I am the person who ruined eleven kids’, a colleague’s lives, not even to mention their loved ones’ lives which consist of constant worrying right now, by that foolish mistake I made. Yes, it was an honest mistake, but that doesn’t change the fact that it did happen. It doesn’t change the fact that I am to blame.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Keishin Ukai
Wednesday, 4:46

I left.

Despite my plans, the promises I made myself. As soon as I got Takeda’s call for help, I made arrangements with my doctors. After a final, hour long, check up, they signed my discharge papers. I signed them too. And despite them advising against leaving after midnight for an extremely long ride back to Miyagi, I packed my bags and left straight away.

Why? Because my colleague- my friend, needs me right now. Not later, when the sun is up and the air isn’t so cold that it burns in my shitty lungs. Takeda needed me, sooner rather than later.

So, with a lend oxygen tank in a travel bag, my phone and just enough money that I should make it home, I walked over the empty Tokyo streets. It was absurd, seeing a city that’s usually so busy, only having a couple of people walking the streets. It was also extremely cold and, I admit, there were moments where I wished I would’ve at least stayed at the hospital until the first train of the day arrived. Like when I experienced an overdose of stress when my first taxi started driving. Or when I had to change taxi’s after being dropped off somewhere I had never been, at the side of the road in a not-so-great-looking neighborhood, when I’m clearly unable to protect myself if something was to happen.

But eventually, after hours of traveling, I finally spot the “Welcome to Miyagi Prefecture” sign in the distance. This is the fourth taxi that drove me as far as he could, but this one promised he’d take me to the address of Takeda’s apartment building. It’s going to put me fairly low on money, seeing as travelling by taxi is a lot more expensive than travelling by train, but that’s okay; I’ve stopped smoking anyway, so that gives me a small leeway when it comes to money.

My eyes feel dry and tired as they stare at the sign as we race past it. I’ve been awake for such a long time, unable to fall asleep on the moving vehicle. But it’s all worth it if it helps Takeda get out of the shit he’s in. I cannot belief that someone actually sued the guy, I thought we came to an agreement that it was a mistake. The guilt he felt was already putting so much pressure on him, but now he has to write a defense that makes it sound like he doesn’t feel even the slightest bit of guilt.

It’s freaking unfair if you’d ask me.

This is what I told Takeda when he called me, sounding like he was in the middle of a mental breakdown. He told me about the complaint and he said that Yachi’s mother demanded money, before getting ready to end the call by apologizing. He told me he just couldn’t write a defense for himself, so he would have to deal with the consequences. He didn’t want me to get myself involved.

I told him two things; one, it was unfair on him. Two, I would most definitely get myself involved.

That’s how I end up stepping out of the taxi after it stops right in front of his apartment building. I pay with the last cash I’ve got on me and thank the driver for getting me back to Miyagi safely.

After that, I walk up the flight of stairs; who on Earth had to decide that poor Takeda had to live on the third floor of a building which’s elevator is apparently broken. My lungs despise me by the time I’ve climbed up all the steps, dragging the heavy oxygen tank with me.

I nearly fall over when I reach the last step, just barely keeping myself from collapsing on the concrete. I’m completely out of breath; my small amount of exercise each day didn’t prepare me for this. There are blue spots floating through my vision and my lungs ache like I’ve just climbed the Mount Everest.

But I have to keep going. I have to get to Takeda’s apartment.

So, despite every warning my body is giving me, I take another step. And another. And another. Until I reach the apartment that has Takeda’s name written on the name board. I press the bell that’s right below. With my hands resting on my knees, I try to catch my breath as I wait for him to open up.

Part of me expects Takeda to rush to the door, open up right away. Even though it isn’t even five in the morning, I know he’s probably just as awake as I’ve been for the past days; there’s no proper sleeping after what we went through. And yet it takes him long, longer than I thought it would take him.

When he still hasn’t opened up the door by the time I’m starting to take full breaths again, I begin to worry. What if something happened? What if he’s inside, having a heart attack because of his stress? What if it’s even worse than that? I stare at the door, trying to tell myself that he’ll open it in no time, but I cannot get my worries to leave.

He might be in there, needing my help even more than he already did, so I don’t even really hesitate before I take a few steps back. I don’t have much of a run I can take, but it’s enough so I can throw myself up against the door. Seeing as this apartment probably has terrible locks, it should be enough to get me inside. With all the force I can muster, I throw myself up against the door.

There’s a loud smash that echoes through the empty streets when my shoulder collides with the door. And there a sharp pain that shoots through my entire ribcage as it reminds me that I was discharged under the agreement that I would take it slow. My ribs and lung are still healing, so no heavy lifting, no sporting, stuff like that. And while the agreement didn’t specifically tell me there was no trying to break through the door of my friend’s apartment allowed with my injuries, I think it’s a no-go too.

“Shit-“ I hiss through clenched teeth as I cradle my healing ribs. They burn and whine like they did when they just got broken, but maybe that’s also why I’m able to ignore the pain after a while; just like I was in the forest, I’m in full flight-or-fight mode right now. The pain only bothers me for a little.

I straighten my back and push away the pain. I look up at the door, expecting that I’ll just be able to wander inside; that’s how things went when me and my friends explored an abandoned building once, it was easy to break the lock and get inside. But Takeda’s lock is either made out of a seriously strong material, or I’ve actually gotten too weak to break through a door. I think the latter.

But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that the door’s still just as locked as it was seconds ago.

For a second, I feel frustration and fear set in; I’m useless. Unable to even help my friend in need.

But then the door suddenly opens. Just a little.

“Hey,” I say when I recognize Takeda in the darkness of his hallway.

“Oh, it’s you,” he mutters before opening the door a little further. There he stands, in the doorway, looking even smaller and skinnier than last time I saw him. He’s wearing pajama pants and the buttons of his shirt are all unbuttoned. Revealing a scrawny upper body. An untied tie hangs around his neck and his greasy hair points in every direction except the right one.

“Whoa-“ It accidentally escapes from my mouth, barely a whisper, but he hears it.

“S-Sorry,” he stammers, tugging at his shirt to make it cover his chest a bit more. “It’s not what it looks like.” I’m not sure what this is supposed to look like, but he either has had a wonderful night or an extremely rough week. I’m not sure which.

“Just come inside.” He turns his back to me and walks into the dark hallway, waving with his hand to let me know I can follow him. Everything inside of his house is pitch black, I swear not a single light is lit. Maybe he doesn’t have enough money to pay for the electricity, but something tells me that’s not the case. Something tells me he just hasn’t found the energy to get up and turn on the lights. And seeing as there’s no one young and sexy lying in the guy’s bed, I bet the lack of decent clothing also comes from him being extremely low on energy and extremely high on stress.

Can’t say I blame the guy, though.

I take a careful breath, slowly taking in Takeda's single studio apartment. There's a kitchen which looks mostly unused apart from the pile of instant ramen cups and coffee mugs that are piled up on the counter. Apart from that there's a bed in the corner, it's unmade, and at the foot of it, there's a television. I suddenly feel really glad about still living in my parents' house, it might not be the best place to be as a grown-up, but at least it's better than this dark dump.

"Sorry about the mess," Takeda says. He's standing at the counter pouring himself a cup of coffee. He asks me if I want one too. I decline, usually a good cup of coffee goes together with a cigarette, and I really don't want to crave a cigarette right now.

I sit down on his bed, because there's not really another place to sit down. I don't know exactly how much a young high school teacher earns, but looking at this apartment, it can't be much.

At least the bed is nice. It sinks in a little more when Takeda sits down beside me, which results in us sitting fairly close to each other as we're kind of sitting in a dent in his mattress.

I glance over at him. His nails start tapping against the side of the mug nervously when I ask him about the complaint. "Where is it?"

He clearly hesitates before his eyes glance over to his bedside table. When I open up the drawer, there's a brown envelope inside. Underneath that lies a long letter which must hold more words than have ever been in an essay of mine.

"Damn," I whisper while skimming over the paragraphs. Up to now, I was still hoping I would come here and it would be less dramatic than Takeda made it sound. But this is dramatic; in writing, him being accused of malpractice, neglect and aggravated assault. All the way at the bottom, there's the claim Takeda was talking about. And he wasn't lying, it's a big number indeed.

"Shit."

"I know right."

"What now?" I ask him, even though we both know that the only solution is for him to write a defense.

He takes a sip of his coffee, shaking his head. "I should just give up." His voice is serious, his eyes dark and much unlike the man that stalked me for weeks without ever giving up hope that I would become his volleyball team's coach. There's nothing left of that determination when he says, "I cannot pay this. I should just hand myself in and go sit out my time in jail-"

"Bullshit."

"What?"

"Bullshit," I repeat. "You're not going to jail for this." I know that much; it's tough to go to jail. I've done some pretty unlawful stuff in my youth and even I don't have a criminal record. Takeda's an honest man who made an honest mistake, no way he's getting one for something he didn't do on purpose. I search through the drawer a bit more to find a notebook and a pen. I hand it to Takeda. "You are going to write a complete defense."

He looks up at me with large, fearful eyes.

"And I'm going to help you."

I say it, like I know how we should write this defense. But we won't get anywhere if we don't start, so I tell him to just write down the number one. "Now what was the first point she made again?" I ask, scanning over the first paragraph. "Alright, Yachi's injury-"

"Great," he mutters. "I can't just deny that that happened, can I?"

"Well-" He's not wrong. He cannot deny that the crash happened, but he can defend himself. "You're going to have to explain what happened."

He scoffs. "Alright. Yeah. I'll just tell them I looked away from the road and-" His hands tremble as he speaks.

"No." I lay my hands on his and repeat, "No. Relax." I look up at him, taking a slow breath. Mostly because my lungs are aching, but also to help Takeda calm down, because he's close to hyperventilating. "Look, we're going to do this together. Baby steps." I pause. "Okay?"

Takeda gives me a careful nod. "Okay."

"Okay," I repeat. After that I let go of Takeda's hands. They're trembling a little less now. Knowing that Takeda's hanging onto the edge of sanity right now, I don't want to overwhelm him with information. I'm not leaving him any choices, because if I would, he would put all the guilt on himself. He would give into all Yachi's mother's claims, and tell them even more about the devastating injuries he's caused. He can't use that right now.

So, instead, I tell him, "Start by drafting out what happened." I pause before reminding him, "It was late and pitch black on the road. You couldn't see anything further than where the bus's lights shone." I still remember every second, I have been reliving it every day. And while I think he does too, I feel like he remembers it a bit differently. "We were lost, had been driving for more than five hours. Yes, you were stressed, but you never forgot about the students in the back." Up to now, Takeda was writing along, but he stops when I say, "Maybe that was why you felt so stressed. You wanted- needed to get them to the training camp safely. But it was late, and dark and you were exhausted." I take a slow breath. "You didn't see the turn. You made a mistake that any driver could've made, it just happened to hurt a group of students."

There are tears in Takeda's eyes when he looks up at me.

"You never meant to hurt them," I remind him, because I know that's what he's been telling himself; he's guilty. "You didn't do this on purpose. It is not your fault."

I can tell that he wants to say a thousand things, but all he manages to whisper is a sob-like, "Thank you."

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Kiyoko Shimizu
Thursday, 07:30

Every morning I’m faced with the same challenge. The mirror that hangs from my door.

Any other girl my age would try to avoid it, because she thinks her hair’s too limp or too curly. Or her legs are too chubby or too skinny. Or her chest is flat or her breasts are way too large. It’s terrible, yes, being scared to have to face yourself in the mirror each and every morning. But at least those other girls don’t have to avoid the reflection at all time, because each time they catch a glance of their face in a mirror, they’re thrown back to the traumatic accident that changed their lives.

That is the case for me.

I like how I look, really; I’m by no means unsatisfied about the places where I do or do not have curves. It’s not that I dislike my face or hair, on most days I don’t even feel like I need any make-up, because I think I’m good enough the way I am. It’s just that, each morning when I look at my reflection to see if my hair isn’t standing in all directions, I also see that red fresh scar right above my eye. I still don’t remember how I got it, I must’ve gotten some glass or something in my face when we crashed, because there’s a pretty deep cut.

It’s been a struggle each morning. Each day, before I head to school, I wonder if I even have to guts to look at myself in the mirror. The accident is just too little time ago, so on most schooldays I just pulled a comb through my hair or put in a ponytail and called it a day. But today I cannot escape it; we’ve all been warned. We third-years need to show up to school in our nicest clothes, no uniforms for once, because today we’ll be celebrating our graduation. Pictures will be taken.

There might not be anyone coming to cheer me on as I’ll walk out of the school one last time later today, but it is a day that I’ll remember for forever. And even if I won’t, the moment will be frozen in the pictures that will be put my family’s photobooks. The point being, I can’t just throw on my uniform and put my hair up in a bun today. Despite my preference for sweatpants and loose sweaters, I spend all of last night matching my perfect outfit for my graduation; a cute pink dress that reaches to just below my knee, with a white legging and a little vest, because it’s still pretty cold in the morning.

I have all that lying ready on my nightstand. And the first thing I do when I wake up is put it on. It’s not hard, I don’t need a mirror to see how these clothes look on me; it’s not like I had enough money or time to buy anything new, so I know that this outfit looks nice on me. It’s what comes after putting on my clothes that scares me. I have a plan for my hair in mind, all thought out, but I need a mirror.

I cannot avoid having to look at myself, seeing that scar, any longer.

I take a deep breath, feeling how my heart races inside my chest. I’ve got everything lying right beside me; cute hairpins that go well with my dress and small, see-through rubber bands to help the waterfall braid stay in place. All I have to do now, is gather the courage to close my door and reveal the mirror that has been pointed towards the wall for almost two entire weeks now.

My hand rests on the doorhandle. I’m trembling top to toe. Terrified that the scar, no matter how small, will cause all the memories to flood back again. I don’t want to remember them.

You have to. I remind myself, taking stronger hold of the doorhandle. You will have to eventually, so why not today? With that thought, I close the door and stare at my reflection in the mirror.

I look at the dress at first, admiring how it looks on me; nothing wrong with that image. I’m still me.

It’s when my eyes fall onto the small cut above my eyebrow that my breath catches in my throat.

It’s small, but clearly visible as it cuts right through my eyebrow, leaving a hairless spot in it. And it’s healing, but my skin scars easily, so it’ll probably always stay; a grim reminder of what happened a little less than two weeks ago. I take my finger past it, feeling how it still stings a little when it meets my skin. I wince, but not because of the physical pain.

I remember the screeching tires. Falling in the dark. And I can still smell the fire and smoke on my skin, just like I did when I woke up in a crashed bus, despite just having showered. I can still feel the blood dripping down my face, even though there’s barely even a crust of blood on my wound.

I take a deep breath, promising myself that it’s okay; it’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to remember.

Everything that happened that night, happened, there’s no changing that.

I take a few strands of hair and start braiding them into each other. It reminds me of having to wash clumps of my teammates’ dried blood out of my hair when we got to the hotel. I still vividly remember the water turning red as it streamed down my body. Pooling at my feet, making me feel sick.

My hair is clean now. I remind myself, forcing myself to feel how soft and not-bloody my hair is. Yet, there’s still an unease that stays while I braid it into a waterfall braid.

When I meet my reflection, I am pleased with the results. But I’m by no means feeling as happy as I should; after three years of high-school, I’m graduating. I should be dripping with joy. But I’m not.

I give myself one last glance in the mirror, before opening my bedroom door again, walking past it. I don’t have time to linger at home any longer, I have to go to school.

I’ve been stalling for long enough.

When I get downstairs, there’s a bento box sitting on the table. Usually I’d cook lunch for myself in the morning, but my brother suggested that it was best if I went to my last day at school well-rested, especially since sleep doesn’t come too easily lately. So, before he went to work this morning, he made me a bento box, so I could stay in bed at least twenty minutes longer.

On top of the box lays a yellow post-it. In the same scribbly cursive handwriting that runs in my family, there’s a message written in pen. “Good luck at your graduation, sis!”. It’s not a lot, but I like the gesture; despite his busy life of working two jobs to take care of himself and me, my brother’s never failed to do things like this for me. For each missed birthday, he made sure to have a feast ready for when he did come home, even if that was late in the evening. And in these past weeks, he’s been there for me more than I’d ever imagined, even if we almost only speak to each other over text.

I smile to myself, making the mental note that I’ll have to thank him when I get home, before putting the bento box in my schoolbag. I check one last time to see if I have everything before leaving home.

As I’m walking to my busstop, I get a little shocked by how light my bag feels. It feels like I forgot something, since there’s not at all much in my bag today, but I know I didn’t. It’s just that all my books have been given back to school and I don’t actually have any classes today. We’ll just be able to do the stuff that all the third-years always look forward to for their entire school career.

Daichi, Sugawara and Asahi would never shut up about all the things they’d finally be allowed to do; loud party poppers in the hallway, soap slides in the club rooms, waterguns to shoot our underclassmen. It’s never been my thing, but their enthusiasm hyped me up as well.

I do feel a little hyped still, almost like something deep inside of me still hasn't realized that Daichi and Sugawara won't be here. That only lasts a little while, though, because as soon as my bus stops in front of the school I am well-aware again. My team is there. Tanaka, Yachi, Yamaguchi, Ennoshita, Kinoshita, Narita and Asahi are all standing there, already waiting. Most of them get here by foot, especially after the crash. I would too, if it wasn't such a long walk from my home to Karasuno High School.

I give them a soft "hello" when I'm close enough. And I smile gently when Asahi tells me that I look nice, not in the flirty way I'm used to from Tanaka and Nishinoya. It's strange, I always thought that would be part of my graduation as well; Nishinoya and Tanaka flirting with me all day. But Nishinoya's not here, and while Tanaka does stare at me, he remains completely silent.

"Thank you," I reply, glancing up at Asahi. Sadness washes over me when I see the suit Asahi's in. Not because he looks bad it in; it's a nice suit, probably expensive. I just would've loved to see Sugawara and Daichi showing off the same kinds of suits. I can see in Asahi's eyes that he's thinking the same; it sucks that the two people who were looking forward to this will never be able to celebrate their graduation like this.

Sure, they both did graduate.

Sugawara passed with flying colors from what I heard, and while Daichi had a tougher time getting all his grades above a fifty-six percent, he did also pass all his exams. They both deserved to be here, celebrating with Asahi and me. But Sugawara chose to miss this to be with Daichi, and Daichi- well, from what I've heard, I think he's very lucky if he'll ever get to use his certificate to go to college someday. Hell, he’s lucky he’s been able take his exams before the accident happened, or he might’ve never even graduated from high school.

The bell sounds, startling me out of my thoughts. A voice over the speakers orders all first- and second-years to head to their classes, as their last class-activities before spring break will be happening. He also congradulates all third-years with their graduation before the message cuts off with a high pitched squeak caused by the mic feedback.

"Let's go," Asahi says, hereby announcing that we'll have to go to our classroom.

"Have a nice day!" Ennoshita tells me and Asahi. Even though we all know that that'll be tougher than it sounds. Still I nod and thank him, before staring at my feet. Well- happy graduation day, Kiyoko- I tell myself, while fighting back the tears that sting in my eyes. I close my eyes and shake away the sarcasm; I have to try. For Sugawara. And for Daichi.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Ryuunosuke Tanaka
Friday, 19:00

My eyes glance over at her. Her eyes are fixated on the window, at the world that flashes by as the train speeds through the darkening sky. Kiyoko’s expression is just as untelling as it was during her graduation yesterday. No emotion could be read from her gaze, and yet, that was enough to tell me how much she was feeling on the inside. Scared. Broken.

Just like me.

When Kiyoko’s gaze moves away from the window and meets mine, I automatically fake a smile. It’s what I’ve been doing for the past days, even though I feel nowhere near as happy as I make others believe. Sure, I’m glad to be headed to Tokyo with Kiyoko, Yamaguchi, Asahi and Hinata, but I’m not happy that it’s because Kageyama, Daichi and Sugawara are still at the hospital. I’m not glad that our last day of this year, and for Kiyoko and Asahi even their last day of their whole high school career, had such a bitter undertone. Everyone might’ve been smiling, including me, but everyone would be lying if they said they weren’t choking back tears when the head of the school mentioned the absence of various students. A couple of first years were missing their first last day of the year along with one second-year-student who’d also missed most of the start of the year. But most tragically, the gradational classes were short two people. Both of which will never return to Karasuno High again.

Everyone can feel it. This off vibe. The knowledge that, despite all of us usually being very talkative, the past days have been silent. Barely anyone spoke yesterday, especially near the end of the day. And we’ve been sitting in the train for almost one and a half hour now, but we haven’t had a single long-lasting conversation. Yamaguchi informed us that Tsukishima, as well as Yachi, couldn’t make it to Tokyo this weekend. And, later, Hinata informed us of his kidneys; they are still failing. The other conversations were about stupid things, like the weather, which we established is pretty good; not too warm, but not too cold either.

It almost feels like we’re not really a team anymore. And maybe that’s not just a feeling, but a fact; a volleyball team needs twelve players. There’s only five of us here. And while the others are still alive, and some of us probably will get back to being part of a team sometime in the future, this group of people just isn’t team Karasuno anymore. Now, we’re just four dudes and a girl, travelling to Tokyo by train to visit three other dudes. And even though that doesn’t make us less of a friend-group, it still feels weird. Somehow. I’m not sure how, but it just does.

A loud bell sound echoes through the train, awakening me from my thoughts. I listen to a woman whose voice sounds through the tinny speakers. “Dear travelers, the Japan Railways Shinkansen will arrive at Tokyo Station shortly. Please deboard carefully,” she announces.

“That’s our stop,” Hinata says, putting away his phone. He slowly gets up and we all soon follow his example. As we make our way to the train’s exit, we have to make sure that we don’t fall over, because it is wobbling and swaying a little as we’re slowing down. It’s weird how we automatically make sure nothing can happen to Hinata specifically; Asahi walks behind him and Yamaguchi in front of him, to make sure they can catch him if he ends up falling.

We manage to make it out of the train without any casualties, though, so that’s good.

We also make our way to the same motel we stayed at last time we were in Tokyo, since it’s not too expensive and close to the hospital. The trip to the motel is a lot less stressful as the train ride, since it’s close enough to the station that we don’t have to get into a taxi or anything. There’s just something about all driving vehicles that gives me the heebie-jeebies… wonder why-

Despite the walk to the motel being not-so-stressful, I still feel like I ran a marathon when I finally arrive in the room we booked. It could be because of the six flights of stairs we had to climb with our bags, because the elevator only had space for one more person. And it was a no-brainer that Hinata would take the elevator, so that left Kiyoko, Yamaguchi, Asahi and me with the stairs to deal with.

We climbed them like a champ, no wining involved, but when I finally get to room, I feel like my legs will give in any second now. I guess that’s what happens to stamina when you do not practice any sports for, like, two weeks.

I let my weekend bag fall onto the floor, before dropping myself onto the bed. Just like last time, the mattresses are both too hard and too springy at the same time. But it feels like complete comfort when you just got out of a packed-full train, a long walk and an even longer stair-climb.

Literally, it took us so long to get to the room that Hinata had already arrived and taken off his shoes and all. And he’s really slow at everything since the accident, which meant we really took long.

“I’m so hungry!” Hinata claims, immediately announcing that he wants to head downstairs now that there’s still some food left from the buffet. “You’ll join me, right?” he asks, not seeming to notice the complete “dead”-vibe we’re giving off; most of us are either lying on the floor or bed, or leaning against the wall, catching our breath.

“Or you won’t-?” he mutters after a long silence.

“N-No, it’s alright-“ Asahi tells him in between gasps for breaths. “I’ll join you.”

“I’m also quite hungry,” Yamaguchi says, taking one last deep breath before rising to his feet.

Hinata glances at Kiyoko and me, we both haven’t answered. “What about you?”

“I-“ I watch Kiyoko shift on her feet, she’s clearly uncomfortable. She’s had a long day, not just today, but yesterday too, and I can tell that the heaviness of those days are causing her energy to drop. She wants to say “no”, just like she initially wanted to say “no” to today’s trip, but she’ll probably force herself to give in anyway; she’s just not someone who likes to disappoint people, I guess.

“I’ll pass.” Those words come from me, not from Kiyoko. I roll onto my back and fold my arms underneath my head. “I’m pooped. Plus, the buffet sucks here.” That’s not even an excuse, it’s a fact; the food they feed their guests here is just as low-quality as the rooms. Last time, part of my rice was still undercooked, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they serve the same soup and bread twice. That’s what you get for such a low price. “Kiyoko and I will order some fast food, later. Right, Kiyoko?”

Kiyoko gives me a look like “how did you know?”, to which I return a knowing nod. Her cheeks turn slightly red when she shyly admits to the group that she also didn’t really enjoy dinner here last time. “But you three guys, have fun.”

Hinata visibly hesitates before saying, “Okay.” He doesn’t look too hungry anymore, but they head down to the cafeteria anyway. As soon as the door closes behind Hinata and the other two dudes, Kiyoko turns to me and whispers, “Thank you.” She still looks a little confused, though.

“No problem.” I pause, taking a second to sit up before carefully asking, “So, what’s up?”

“Nothing,” she replies too quickly, like she already knew this question would be coming. Like she’s lying. Because she is lying, I’ve seen the look on her face all day yesterday and today.

“Something’s definitely up.” She now knows I know that she’s feeling off. “A lot happened, and heck- out of all of us, you’ve been the strongest all this time. But Kiyoko-“ Our eyes meet. “-it’s time to drop the façade.”

A fear, though barely noticeable, washes over her face.

I think back to the things she said, when she came to calm me down after I’d withdrawn in the woods. She was the person that talked me out of that dark place, that send me a few steps back towards the person I was before the crash. Towards the person I still am on the inside. She taught me that it’s okay to be scared, that even she was scared, but she also mentioned the mask she puts on not to make others more fearful. “It’s time to drop the act of the calm and cool-headed savior, Kiyoko.”

She swallows audibly, her lips tremble as if she wants to tell me I’m wrong. She doesn’t speak.

“There’s enough space here-“ I gesture at the room around us. “Enough space, enough time and there’s no one here who needs you to be strong now.” I pause before reminding her, “We’re safe, Kiyoko; you can cry now.”

Almost as if something unlocks inside of her, for the very first time since the accident, tears suddenly well up in her eyes. I get up from the bed and carefully wrap my arms around her. Her chest jolts as she lets out silent cries, and I admit a few tears slip down my own cheeks as well. It’s good to see her finally opening the lid to the super glued bottle she’d been using to store her emotions. And I’m glad that I could be there with her when it happened, giving her a shoulder to cry on.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Daichi Sawamura
Saturday, 10:00

There was a moment where I thought things might actually be okay again. That was after a woke up from my surgery; mom had told the doctors they could do anything to help me, they were going to fix me. I woke up. No pain. No confusement.

Though groggy, I immediately knew where I was and who I was with. Mom was in my room, sitting by my side when I opened my eyes, and Suga stood near the door. And, maybe most relieving, that stupid tube had been taken out of my mouth. For one moment, everything felt okay.

Everything felt normal.

But it wasn’t- isn’t.

From that moment, my hopes of having a swift recovery were crushed. Despite the tube being gone, I still can’t speak. I cannot make any decisions for myself, or at least, they won’t let me. And I still cannot breathe without the trach – that’s what nurse Aiuchi calls the less annoying tube that’s been surgically placed into my windpipe – being hooked up to a ventilator. They’re trying to wean me off of it, a little more every day, which is nice. Just like it’s nice that they try to get me out of bed more every day. But it isn’t painless. In contrary even, being lifted out of bed and transferred into a wheelchair can only be done with two or more people to hold me up, and it is agonizing; my body not being able to support itself at all doesn’t just lead to extreme physical pain.

It’s maybe even harder mentally.

Just like each morning, screams escape from my mouth as two nurses transfer me from my bed towards the wheelchair. The wheelchair is just a few steps away, but it seems like miles. But I can scream as much as I want to, yet it’s like the doctors don’t realize that whenever I scream and cry it’s because they’re hurting me. They are hurting me so much. But they keep going, like they don’t even hear me. I know it’s because mom agreed to them doing everything they could to help me, just like I wanted her to, but I wish I could go back on our choice now. Each day, they put me through so much pain, both physically and mentally, and I don’t even know if it’s going to be worth it in the end.

This treatment, no matter how invasive, hasn’t done a single thing for me; I’m still not talking, I’m still unable to move and I’m having constant pain in all my muscles that gets much worse each time they move me. Apart from the fact that I’m not in a coma anymore, things haven’t gotten any better.

It pains me to even think this, but there are nights where lay awake because of the pain, and where I stare at the ceiling trying and failing to talk, and I just feel like this will never be over. Like, maybe this entire process might be useless in the end; there’s no cure for this and there’s no certain victory.

“Only one more step,” a nurse, nurse Aiuchi’s, voice chimes in my ear. Reminding me that I’m almost there, even though that final step seems to last for forever. I’m not even using my own strength, I can feel her foot pressing up against mine to get me moving forward, and still I’m dead-tired when I reach the wheelchair. She and her colleague lower me into the chair, into the new one that isn’t hard and iron like the hospital one they got me before. Somewhere earlier this week, mom and Suga went shopping between visiting hours, I think, because they came back with this large and bulky wheelchair. It barely fits into the small hospital room and mom apologized at least twenty times about it being a second-hand one, but despite those two things, this wheelchair at least makes the daily walks less agonizing. It has soft cushions and it’s angled it a way that, especially when I’m covered by a soft blanket, it almost feels like I’m not in a wheelchair, but in a cozy arm chair instead.

I huff and puff, trying to catch my breath, but each time I have to wait until the ventilator blows out air. That’s the tough part about almost being weaned off the ventilator entirely; I still need it, to some degree, but I’m starting to breathe on my own more and more. But I only get air when the ventilator gives it to me, which makes moments like this where I’m out of breath feel like I’m suffocating.

“You did great!” nurse Aiuchi promises me.

I glance down at her through my eyelashes. One of my eyebrows perk up, probably making me look like I’m judging her. Maybe I am, I am curious as to what she means when she says “great!”, but I’m not judging her for literally being the most optimistic person in this entire hospital despite working with either dying or seriously injured patients like me. No, the single eyebrow-raise when I’m curious just happens, just like the way my smile ends up being lopsided when something makes me happy.

One time, when I saw my own reflection and the way half of my face barely even twitched when I tried to smile did freak me out. Nurse Aiuchi explained to me that the damage to my brain caused me to have something called ataxia. It makes everything with movement really hard, from fine to gross motor skills, and including talking and even smiling and swallowing. That’s because the brain damage has thrown off the communication between my brain and the nerves throughout my entire body, so also to the nerves in my face. This is why part of my face barely moves at all, but unlike the rest of my body, it shouldn’t be too serious; she’s positive that with the treatment, I’ll get my normal facial expressions back.

She explains a lot of things like that, which is calming. Just like she’s explaining everything she does and why she does it, as she gets me situated in my wheelchair before Suga or mom comes and picks me up for our daily walks. Nurse Aiuchi always talked to me a lot more than anyone else. Even when I still was comatose. Though I do not remember most of what she said, since I was drugged up and unconscious, I do remember her chirpy voice explaining me whatever she did to me and why she did it. Even when she couldn’t have known that I could hear her to some extent.

But even now, when I’m awake and everyone knows I’m also aware of what’s going on, nurse Aiuchi’s the only person who actually speaks to me. Everyone else seems to speak about me instead. Especially Dr Hitsujikai tends to talk to mom or Suga or even nurses, whoever’s in the room with me, instead of speaking directly to me. If he even speaks when he’s around me. It’s a terrible feeling, because I can hear him. I might not understand every medical term he uses, but I would like doctors to talk with me about the things they’re going to be doing to my body. They might not be able to get any opinions, questions or answers out of me, but talking to me is the least they can do.

I notice that Suga and mom are also starting to take over this habit. Sure, when we’re one-on-one, they’ll both talk to me, telling me stories about things that are going on at home. But whenever they switch who’s keeping me company, they ask each other how I’m doing. They could ask me. They’ve been told that they can communicate with me a little by asking me yes-or-no-questions, but they don’t. And maybe the worst is that I cannot blame them; I don’t know if I would be able to resort to communicating with my family-member or friend either. Not so soon at least, but I hope that if I remain unable to speak, they’ll at least start trying to hold a conversation with me some day.

“And the ventilator in the back,” nurse Aiuchi mutters. I feel a slight tugging on the thick tube that’s attached to the trach on my throat as the smaller ventilator is moved onto the small storage panel below the seating of the wheelchair. “There you go.” She rises to her feet again, smiles at me before gazing straight past me. Her smile grows even wider when she watches something behind my back. “Mister Sugawara, we were just ready getting situated.”

“Great, thank you,” the familiar voice of my best friend sounds. He sounds a little nervous, he always does lately, but there’s also a hint of excitement in his voice when he says, “I can’t wait to show Daichi the special thing I have planned this morning.”

I frown lightly, confused, because I thought we were just going to do the usual; take a walk through the hospital’s garden en then come back to my room a little later to watch some television. Because even though I really despise Suga’s crappy taste in movies, I’ve been enjoying these small moments together. At least it’s better than having to listen to mom holding back sobs, like I do all afternoon.

“I can imagine, yeah!” Nurse Aiuchi chuckles, which means she was aware of the fact that today would be different from any other day. She didn’t tell me a thing! Props to her; she talks a lot, after all.

She places a blanket over top of my legs and double checks if everything’s sitting alright, so I won’t get any painful pressure sores, before turning the wheelchair around.

I see Suga standing by the door, he’s dressed more nicely than usual. For the past days, he’s mostly been wearing clothes that I either recognize to be mine or his own volleyball uniform that still has slight bloodstains showing through the black, washed, fabric. I’ve never even seen him in this outfit, though, and it’s not mine either. It looks brand new, which must mean there’s something really special going on today. But what? It’s no one’s birthday, or so I think, so what is it?

“Hi,” he says when our eyes meet.

Hey. I want to respond, and I try to mouth it, but the point doesn’t seem to come across. That’s what happens when most of your muscles don’t respond to your brain’s orders. Stupid ataxia.

I end up giving him a small smile instead, which seems to be enough of a greeting, because Suga smiles back. It’s nice to see that he’s smiling again, that did take a few days, before that he just looked really uncomfortable and heartbroken when he was around me.

Today, I dare say he seems even a little more hyped up. His eyes don’t look too sad and he’s pretty chatty as we’re making our way from my room through the hallways to- somewhere. I have no clue where. Or why. I just know that it’s something that’s making Suga pretty damn happy, so that’s good.

“Just down the hall-“ he mutters to himself. As we steer into the new hallway, he goes a little more quiet than before. It makes my heart beat a little faster, with anticipation, when he announces that the surprise should already be there. “Right behind the door.” I can hear his smile in his voice.

Just a few more steps! I think to myself, listening to Suga’s shoes tapping on the floor. We get closer and closer until we push through the two white doors. Light pours over us as we make our way from the dimly lit hallway into the second floor’s small lounge.

Once adjusted to the bright light, I carefully open my eyes and my mouth immediately drops open. Not just because I’ve never been on this side of the hospital; the elevator’s at the complete other side of the hospital, after all. And I’m also not surprised because it looks beautiful; it does look amazing with the nicely cushioned couches and the big indoor balcony that allows you to oversee the entrance hall on the floor below.

No, I’m surprised, because on those nice-looking couches are four guys and a girl. Five people I would recognize anywhere, because they are part of my team. They are my friends.

With large eyes, I stare at them from a distance. It’s amazing to see at least some of them together. Suga told me all about everyone, how they were doing and that everyone was still alive, despite what the dire situation back in the forest had made me believe. And now here they are; Hinata’s making big gestures with his hands as he speaks, and it’s nice to see that he’s not doing as bad as Suga told me he was doing when we just arrived at the hospital. Yamaguchi, Tanaka and Asahi barely look hurt and they’re cracking some smiles as they talk about something I can’t quite hear from this distance. Kiyoko sits between Asahi and Tanaka, she’s smiling less and appears to be somewhat distracted from the conversation. Her eyes water up with tears all of a sudden, and I watch as her hand taps Asahi’s knee.

Asahi looks up, his entire face goes pale and his eyes even more watery than Kiyoko’s, soon followed by the rest of the group going silent as well. Staring at something. Large eyes glaring in my direction.

They spotted me.

“Hi, guys!” Suga says from behind me, breaking the silence.

No one replies.

I swallow thickly, wanting to take quicker breaths than the ventilator can give me. I’m so nervous, and it’s getting worse with every step Suga takes us closer to the group. While I’m really glad to see my friends again, I wish we could keep our distance a bit more. Especially since the closer we get, the more terrified their expressions get. Especially the eyes of my fellow third years look afraid and sad, like they’re seeing a ghost.

I guess I can’t blame them. I sometimes feel like I’m just a ghost of the person I used to be before-

I take the deep breath the ventilator gives me before showing them a smile, like saying “Hey, it’s still me.” Not everyone seems to get my greeting, especially since not a single sound makes it out of my mouth; I don’t know how much Suga told them about how I am now, but I doubt he told them enough. If they’d known enough, whatever enough is, they wouldn’t look this shocked at the sight of me. That, and Hinata wouldn’t just speak up to ask me how I’m doing.

There’s a small jolt when Suga puts my wheelchair on breaks, but the shivers it sends down my spine might as well be from the nerves that rush through me as I search for a way to reply. Can I blink? Does blinking count as a “good” or is it more of a “not great”?

My eyes panickly shift towards Suga as soon as he comes into my field of vision. There’s this everlasting silence in the group as they wait for my response, and as I wait for Suga to sit down and speak for me instead. But Suga takes his sweet time, lowering himself into the chair, before glancing at me. His eyes are, just like the others’, filled with anticipation. Like he’s expecting me to reply too.

“Oh-“ His expression saddens when his eyes meet mine and reality hits him again; he knows I cannot speak, I guess moments like these, where it’s not just the two of us, he forgets what reality he’s in. His eyes shift away from me, towards the group, and he clears his throat. “I’m sorry- uh- just yes-or-no questions, please,” he tells them, before silently adding, “He can’t speak, yet.”

I glance across the group. Neither Tanaka nor Kiyoko seems to be able to work up the courage to look at me. I can’t help but notice the way they hold each other’s hand, comforting each other. Asahi is looking at me, but his eyes are big and tear-filled, like a deer staring into headlights. Yamaguchi’s about the same amount of nervous looking. For a second, I wonder why they couldn’t bring more of the less anxiety-inducing half of the team, but then I remember; Yachi’s even worse when it comes to nerves, Kageyama and Tsukishima are both impolite so they wouldn’t have done the mood any good, Nishinoya’s in rehabilitation because of the injury to his spine, and above all Tanaka’s supposed to be part of the less anxious, more talkative half.

My gaze lingers on Tanaka’s unmoving mouth. So why isn’t he speaking?  I think to myself.

“Oh, in that case,” Hinata’s voice eventually breaks the silence. I’m reminded that, while Hinata was awfully silent when we had just crashed, he’s also still one of the loudest people in my team. “Are you feeling okay? Not in any pain? Has Sugawara been kind-“

“Whoa!” Suga interrupts Hinata. “One question at a time, please!”

Hinata pauses, but then he nods once. He turns back to me and asks, “Are you happy we’re here?”

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, which is probably enough of an answer, but I blink once for “yes” to be sure. Despite the fact that I’m not really enjoying the graveyard-vibe, I couldn’t be happier to see all of them again.

“That’s a yes,” Suga translates, I glance at him to see him staring at my eyes. While he never really uses this method himself, he does know the cues; I’ll blink once for “yes” and twice for “no”.

“How do you know!?” Hinata wants to know.

“It’s just a special connection between us,” Suga lies, he gives me a wink.

“That’s not true!” Hinata squeaks. His eyes are determined, watching my every move as he asks, “Daichi, it’s not true! Sugawara’s lying, right?”

I blink once; he’s definitely lying. For the most part. Sometimes I feel like Suga can tell what I am thinking without having to use this method of communicating, but then other times he’s completely off. Like that time I was having cramps during our morning walk and Suga was convinced my held-back cries was me trying my hardest to tell him something. I would’ve laughed about all the things he guessed I was trying to say, because some things were hilarious, if I wasn’t in so much pain.

“Now, he said yes again-“ Suga admits with a chuckle. His eyes glance at me and he mutters, “Snitch.”

I chuckle softly, and I’m not the only one; this play he’s putting up deserves a snicker from Yamaguchi and Tanaka, and there’s less concern in Asahi and Kiyoko’s eyes, maybe even a ghost of a smile on their faces. Suga might not have been the fastest when it came to warming up to me in the state I’m in, but he’s sure as Hell good at lightening the mood.

Hinata lets out an offended scoff. “Unfair!” He takes a hold of the crutch that’s sat beside him all this time and rises to his feet. Though slow, he makes his way all over to where Suga’s sitting, just to he can smack his upperclassman against the head. “You are really, really unfair-“ he mutters while slowly walking back to his seat beside Yamaguchi. “Just tell us,” Hinata orders, once seated again.

Suga lets out a dramatic sigh, almost as if he’s forced to share a big secret with the team. “Alright, alright-“ He pauses for extra drama. “Daichi blinks.”

Tanaka lets out a scoff, the first loud one of the day, and hopefully not the last one. He turns away, snickering into his fist before saying, “Well, duh!”

“Yeah, duh!” Hinata agrees. “We all blink!”

I let out a chuckle, but it’s so soft and silent that Suga’s laughter overpowers it completely. “No-“ Suga shakes his head and explains, “He blinks to talk to you; once for “yes”, twice for “no”. Look, it’s easy.” Suga turns to me and asks, “I told the truth this time, right?”

I blink once, very dramatically, so they can all see that Suga’s not lying this time. When I open them again, there’s a smile on Hinata’s face. I can tell that he’s been dying to ask me a thousand questions, and so he does. Sooner rather than later, Tanaka also joins in with a couple of questions of his own; some of them aren’t quite yes-or-no questions, but the he kind of turns it into multiple-choice ones instead. A great idea, if you ask me, because the yes-or-no questions had me feeling like I was being interrogated, while soon after Tanaka comes up with the different method, things turn into more of a conversation instead. One where they talk a lot, also among each other, and I listen.

Hinata talks the most, as usual. He tells everyone all about how his sister is on a day out to an amusement park today, and how we should all be thankful that he skipped that to be here today. He also mentions wanting to visit Kageyama, who isn’t here because he’s getting skin-grafts as we speak, and that Kageyama should be the most thankful of all, because he apparently begged Hinata not to go to the pack-full amusement park. I doubt that’s because he wants Hinata here, though, and I think it’s rather because Hinata’s clearly also still healing from his injuries.

But Hinata’s not the only one who talks a lot; Tanaka also seems to get more like himself the more minutes slip by. He cracks jokes and tells stories that sound so absurd I doubt they’re true. But who knows? Tanaka often gets himself into strange situations, after all.

And even Asahi tells a few stories about the graduation ceremony Suga and I sadly missed, supported by some small things Kiyoko adds here and there, but just as usual Kiyoko doesn’t speak much.

Every now and then, they ask my opinion on things. Each time they do, it makes me smile a little, because absurd as it sounds, this has been the first proper, not-one-sided, conversation I’ve been in since the accident. That’s why, though I’m dead-tired, I’m actually really sad when Suga’s phone’s alarm rings, telling us that it’s time for me to head back to my room again.

I don’t want to leave, but we have to.

As Suga’s taking the wheelchair off the breaks, Hinata suddenly asks, “Will you let us visit again?”

I frown lightly, wondering if that’s even a question. I don’t have to think about the answer, though. One single blink, a clear one. Without a doubt, “yes”. Please, visit any time.

I haven’t had this much fun since the crash

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Yuu Nishinoya
Tuesday, 12:40

“I have a massive stomach ache, okay?” Those are the first words that leave my mouth today, even though half the day has already passed. A lie. A complete and total lie. But it’s believable at least.

My days at the rehabilitation centre have been made up of lies like these since day one; I’ve got a stomach ache, muscle cramps, didn’t get enough sleep, nauseous. Anything to skip physical therapy.

It’s not that I don’t want to heal. I do. But it’s like no one here wants me to heal.

I looked it up, one of the things that keeps people in situations like mine going is hope. A proper mental health is one of the first steps towards, in my case, walking again. But then why is the first thing they told me, during my first physical therapy session here at the rehabilitation centre, that I shouldn’t be expecting such grant things from them. My physical therapist, Dr Akira, heard me mentioning their website. The claims they made on there. And made it clear that those were different cases.

“When it comes to injuries like yours,” he explained, referring to my complete paralysis. “there is no way for signals from your brain to reach the areas below the injury-“ So, below my bellybutton. “-unlike when we’re dealing with an incomplete spinal cord injury.”

I told him I understood this, but I still wanted to try. I need some good hopes to cling onto.

He just gave me a look that said all the words he didn’t want to tell me; he was sorry, but I wouldn’t be walking again. The risks were too big and the chances too slim. But he didn’t say any of that out loud, he didn’t need to, he just took a slow breath and said, “We’ll focus on getting around in the wheelchair, for now.” Which basically meant a “no” to all my requests for attempting to walk again.

So, he told me this pretty early in the day, and later that same day acted all worried about my mental health, bringing me to a group counseling session with people “like me”. I wouldn’t have minded this, if these people actually are like me; young people who were supposed to be going to special college’s for the sport they love. None of the people at the group counseling sessions is like that. They’re almost all over sixty years old, many of them never even had a spinal injury, like me, but got paralyzed overtime because of a disease or stroke. Not saying that that’s less shitty, but you’d think they’d group people together with somewhat similar experiences. Whenever I talk, I see pity on the old people’s faces. I don’t need that; it’s not going to help me get better if people look at me like I’m fragile.

When I laid in bed that evening, I remember thinking to myself that this place was no better than the hospital. They might’ve been able to help others with more minor injuries, but they couldn’t help me.

The next morning, I faked my first excuse to get out of physical therapy as well as group sessions.

It’s become routine since then.

And after one entire week of making up excuses, staring at the ceiling and watching videos of people who can still play my favorite sport, it seems that I have worried my doctors enough to make them contact my grandfather. It’s exactly forty minutes past twelve when the old man barges into my room, his cheeks red and angry when he shouts at me. “Skipping physical therapy, really Yuu?” He slammed the door shut and stared at me with that burning stare he has whenever he’s angry. “You can’t be serious!”

“I have a massive stomach ache, okay?” I lie, because that’s what I’ve been doing for the past days. I’ve told so many lies to get to skip physical therapy that it’s starting to come naturally to me.

“Nonsense!” The doctors, who do not know me that well, have fallen for my lies up to this point, but not grandpa. He’s the person that raised me, the person who has been so stern with me that he completely annihiliated the mere possibility of using excuses like I’m doing right now. When I was younger, I never was allowed to say things like these; I can’t, I don’t feel good, stuff like that. They were excuses. Lies. So it’s not a surprise that grandpa immediately discards a stomach ache as an option.

“How would you know?” I talk back. “What if I really do have a stomach ache, huh?”

“Try again,” he dares me.

“Why should I even have to explain myself?” I stare down at the plaid blanket that lies over my useless legs. “It’s not like it’s your body, so why do you even care what I decide to do?”

He mutters something under his breath before he says, “Do you have any idea how expensive your stay here is?” He speaks louder now. “This is not a hotel, Yuu. You’re here to heal!”

“Well, I’m not healing am I?” I grumble.

“No, not if you’re not putting in the effort!” He turns his back to me, announcing, “If you’re not working, I’m not paying! If I’m not paying, you’re not healing. Ever! Is that what you want, huh!?”

“Well, who the fuck cares!” I snap. My voice is loud. Shattering and breaking when I add, “Not me- so-“ Tears well up in my eyes, but I don’t allow them to fall. I just stare at the blanket, frowning, even though I’m not sure whether it’s even anger that I feel inside my chest.

Grandpa stays quiet. Too quiet, like the first time he faced me after the accident.

The only sound he makes are a couple of careful footsteps coming closer. With a deep sigh, he sits down in my new wheelchair, which stands right beside my bed just in case I do want to get out.

I don’t look at him, not ready to find out whether that emotional pain whirling inside of me like a storm is actually anger or a sadness that’ll pour out any second now; I won’t cry, that’s a rule.

There’s another complete silence before grandpa finally speaks. “Have I ever told you about how your parents died?” is everything he says before going quiet again.

My parents?  I glance over, looking at him from the corner of my eye, trying to figure out why he’s mentioning this now. He never mentions my parents, and I was too young to remember them, but my sisters remembered them. They told me a little about them, but only the good things. I bet that’s because grandpa never really told them what happened to our parents either. He just couldn’t talk about them, and even now, it still hurts him to think back to his son and daughter in law.

He waits, but doesn’t get a clear answer. After a short silence he just decides for me, nodding to himself once, as if talking courage into himself. I’ve never seen my grandfather this nervous. His voice is even trembling a little when he says, “They were young and ambitious, like you. Still two children-“ He shakes his head, closing his eyes. Remembering. “Your parents also loved your sport, you know? Your dad might’ve been the ace of the court, but he was nothing compared to your mom. She was a Libero, like you. One that easily kept the boys on the mixed high school team on their toes.”

How come no one ever told me this? I think to myself, and maybe even more why now?

He smiles gently. “You remind me of them so much, Yuu.” He shakes his head, sad.

He pauses before continuing. “But your mom, she became pregnant of your oldest sister when she was still in college, a specialty sport-college,” he tells me. “And after they got her, she started taking motherhood more seriously. She dropped out of college and, despite his love for the sport, so did your dad. They got your sister together, and then three more babies. Including you.” He pauses, allowing time for this to sink it. For the both of us, because he’s clearly also having a hard time talking about this. He needs a moment.

But I want to hear more, I want to know who my parents were. I want to know why I need this now. “What happened to them?” I carefully ask, after a silence that seems to last an eternity.

He opens his eyes slightly, almost as if he’s only now remembering that he was telling me a story. He closes them again, before parting his lips. “One weekend, they’d be away from home. It would just be a small vacation with friends, so I had offered to look after the four of you,” he continues. “Your parents had been so excited to do lots of fun stuff with their high school friend group, their old volleyball team, but that didn’t mean they weren’t worried about leaving you four. Maybe your parents had barely slept the night before or maybe your father had his thoughts somewhere else while he was driving, I don’t know exactly what happened, but they never arrived at the airport.”

I can already guess what happened next, and I also suddenly know why he’s telling me now. “Did their car crash?” I carefully ask after a couple of seconds silence.

He nods once. “Their car crashed,” he repeats. “From what I’ve been told your mother hadn’t been wearing her seatbelt. She flew through the window and passed away before the paramedics arrived.” He pauses. “Your father survived, initially. He’d been awake and responding for hours after the crash, long enough that I got to say my goodbyes before his injuries caused him to slip into a coma. Your father never woke up, his injuries were too severe-“ Grandpa swallows thickly. “-but even before that, I could see in his eyes that he had given up his fight. He lost the love of his life and he couldn’t see himself taking care of four young children on his own.” He opens his eyes to look at me. They’re red and wet- “When I got the call about you getting hurt in an accident, I didn’t- I couldn’t go through that again. I couldn’t- can’t lose you too.” –but at the same times his eyes are filled with determination when he says, “I cannot have you giving up your fight like he did, hear me?” He grabs my shoulders and squeezes them. “I cannot lose you too. Hear me, Yuu?”

I stare down at my lap, wondering if that’s what grandpa thinks I’m doing. Giving up.

It’s not even the same circomstance; if I give up, I’m not dying. I’ll feel miserable at worst, but not dead.

“I won’t-“ I whisper, though just like every other word that’s left my mouth in the past days, it feels like a lie. Sure, I’ve not given up- I want to try and make the best of this, like I always do, but I cannot seem to find the light at the end of this dark dark tunnel. “I’m just not sure how I can make myself not give up, you know?” I decide to tell him, because maybe, just maybe, he can help me.

His eyes meet mine, his are filled with determination. “Just keep on going.”

“Just keep on going?” I repeat, scoffing to myself. “Easier said than done, gramps.”

He shrugs. “You might be surprised by what you get reach if you just keep fighting your fight.”

I frown. “What’s that even supposed to mean?” I have no clue why, but old people are always vague.

Grandpa sighs, muttering, “I wanted to keep this a surprise for later but-“ mostly to himself. He gets out his phone and, while I can only watch in confusion, he types out a message that causes my phone to buzz on my nightstand. I’m about to reach out when he stops me. “It’s just an article,” he says, and for a moment I feel like he spoiled something what was supposed to be a surprise. But his expression doesn’t make him look like he just said too much. “I wanted to show you when you were a little stronger, but I feel like I might give you a purpose to start working a bit harder.”

Vague. “What is it about?” I try, because I cannot reach my phone when his hand is on top of it.

“You’ll see when you open it.” Another vague comment from the old man. He smiles gently before handing me my phone. “Thank me later, once you’ve won your fight.”

With those words, he gets up and exites my bedroom. Leaving me with a lot of questions in my mind and a phone with a mystery inside in my hands. I take a few deep breaths before unlocking my phone, heading into the chat where a short blue link to the article sits inside a small text bubble.

What is it? I wonder as the page is loading. And could this small thing really show me that I’m not fighting a losing battle?

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Asahi Azumane
Wednesday, 20:15

Just like every Wednesday evening, at exactly fifteen minutes past eight, a video call is started. We’ve done it every week since the crash, because well-it’s something that keeps us together, as a team, despite all of us being scattered all throughout Japan; Sugawara, Kageyama and Daichi, still in Tokyo, Nishinoya at the rehabilitation centre just outside Miyagi, and the others back at home, in Miyagi.

It’s not easy to see each other in real life, so weekly video calls it is. Sometimes even two or three a week, if we have time. I don’t think that’s going to happen a lot this week, because everyone is quite busy with the end-of-the-year stuff. Two weeks of Spring break might seem like a good amount of time, but for the now second- and third-years it’s a busy time. They have to get school supplies and get themselves ready for the new school-year. For the granduates, mainly Kiyoko and I, we have to think about what we’ll do when break’s over; will we start working, or start studying in college, or do we take a complete gap-year to process what happened? It’s a lot to think about, and including processing the trauma we’ve all gone through, two weeks seems like way too little time.

It’s one of the things I talked about a lot with miss Chisaka during our meet yesterday. It was a tough meeting, because she had me talking a lot so she could give me the best tips at the end. I spoke about what happened and about what I expected for the future. The latter somehow being even more terrible than thinking about what happened in the past. Miss Chisaka noticed my anxiety when thinking about my short-term plans, like what I was going to in a week, when break’s over. She explained that it’s a normal thing in people who’ve gone through traumatic events, like me.

She send me home, about an hour or so later, with a new appointment later this week and a couple of tips; breathing exercises and thoughts to think when I was getting nervous, things like that. 

And then I got home, I saw I got a message from Nishinoya saying how excited he was about tomorrow’s call. He wish we would’ve been able to do it on Tuesday instead, but he knows no one would be able to have a change of plans so quickly. I asked him why, to which he replied in all-caps “I HAVE AMAZING NEWS”, soon followed by a message telling me he couldn’t tell me over text, though. And another saying that it was so special he needed to tell me, and the others, in person. Or well, as in person as we’re able to get lately.

Because of that message and the excitement it gave me, I admit I was thankful for the exercises miss Chisaka gave me during our meet earlier. I was filled with so much anticipation, my mind was running wild, but the tips made me stop my mind from wondering too much. I just had to sleep and wait.

Right now, the excitement is creeping back again, as I’m sitting on bed with my laptop on my lap.

I stare at the screen while I wait for the others to join. For a moment, I feel like I’m the only one in the video-call, but Kageyama’s already in as well, he’s just got his video turned off as usual.

Sooner rather than later, other people join the call, slowly trickling in, all the others do have their video-function turned on, just like me. First Yachi, Kiyoko and Yamaguchi join the call and a few seconds later, Hinata and Tanaka also pick up their phones. It’s always a question whether Narita, Ennoshita and Kinoshita pick up their phones; sometimes some of them join in, other times they don’t. And when they do, they’re more silent than usual, and I think that’s up to them. I don’t know if I would join in every call if I were them, they must feel kind of left out because of our trauma-talk. I know it’s strange when you look at it this way, but I do think that is how it feels for my three underclassmen. But it’s fun to see when their calls are also answered one by one after a couple of minutes.

Tsukishima’s call remains unanswered, not that I expected him to suddenly join after skipping all our messages and calls from before. When after a minute or so, Sugawara still doesn’t pick up his phone, I’m afraid he’s going to cancel last minute too, but then he suddenly joins, immediately apologizing. “I know we’re late!” he admits, still adjusting the camera so he can fit both him and Daichi into the frame. He explains he had to make some arrangements with the hospital staff to be allowed to visit Daichi at this late hour. But, just like he’d promised yesterday, he made sure that they can both join the call; there’s no way Daichi was about to miss out on good news.

Now, the only one missing is Nishinoya; the star of the call. Or well, my star, because the others probably don’t know about his exciting announcement yet.

His photo is surrounded by a pulsing rim, displaying that he’s still being called as we speak. He leaves us waiting in anticipation before finally picking up after he knows we’re all in the call.

“Hi!” his voice echoes through my mike, his loud high-pitched voice causing to my laptop’s terrible speaker to spike yet again. It’s something I’m prepared for; it happens each time I get into a call with Nishinoya. Often times because he’s mad at something, not me, and ends up shouting things during our call. This time, it’s because he’s really excited about something.

But what?

“Is it okay if I take the lead and start off by saying something?” he immediately asks. “Heck! I’m just going to!” he says before anyone even has had the time to reply, that’s just Nishinoya for you; he can get really hyperactive and kind of unpredictable when he’s excited.

“I’m happy to announce that I have good news,” he speaks slowly, making the suspense last long.

“Whoa! I love good news!” Hinata’s voice sounds through my speakers. “Tell us!”

Nishinoya’s eyes squint, excited. “Alright, alright-“ He points at himself with his thumb. “This guy here, is going to be practicing for-“ He pauses for the dramatic effect. “-sitting volleyball!”

There’s complete silence.

“It’s a Paralympics version of volleyball,” he explains, because even though no one asked he knows we’re curious. And a little confused maybe. “It’s much like normal volleyball, but you sit on the floor instead of standing and jumping around. Also, the court is smaller and the net lower, things like that. And oh- the best thing is that, while it’s mainly played by amputees, apparently I should also be able to play it as well once I get a bit stronger. I asked my physical therapist, and he said he’d look into it.”

Apart from the heart pounding louder and louder inside of my chest, it’s still dead-silent. Happiness rushes through my veins as soon as the words leave Nishinoya’s mouth, of course I’m happy for him. Nishinoya loves volleyball with his whole being; he swears it’s what he’s been put on the world to do.

But at the same time, I can’t help but worry too. That might just be me, or at least, I hope it’s just me who cannot seem to be overly happy for him when I know that playing a sport with injuries like his is bound to come with its own risks. I hope the others can just be overly happy, as I should too.

“Whoa- silence,” Nishinoya breaks the complete silence after a short while. “Not happy, then?”

Another second passes before someone finally speaks, “Of course we are, dude!” It’s Tanaka. “Extremely happy! Just speechless-“ He lets out a chuckle, which somehow makes me feel like he’s worried too. “But- eh-“ he stammers. Obviously worried; there’s no hiding it.

I guess we all got a bit less care-free after the crash. I’m not the only one who wants to know what the risks are, because we all know each and every sport comes with a big risk of injury.

“I think what Tanaka’s trying to ask,” I say, trying to get a hold of the same gentleness miss Chisaka usually speaks with. I end up sounding very careful and hesitant instead, probably because I really don’t want to upset Nishinoya. “Isn’t it dangerous to, you know, play a sport when-“ My voice trails off. I don’t know how- no, I don’t want to say this. Not when Nishinoya’s finally truly happy again.

His eyes glance away from the camera, and for a moment I’m afraid he’ll snap at me any second now. But instead, he just nods. “It probably is dangerous, it’ll have risks,” he admits. “But so does regular volleyball. Do you know how many healthy volleyball players had to retire because of severe injuries to their ankles, hands, knees or shoulders. No sport comes without risks, so no, I don’t think sitting volleyball will be an exception.” He pauses, there’s determination in his eyes when he looks up at us and says, “But there’s not a doubt in my mind when I say that I want to keep playing. It’s part of me.”

His words are harsh, true- honest. He doesn’t just want this, he needs it. And if he’s aware of the risks, and he knows that he might have a high chance of even more severe injuries when he plays, and still wants it that’s the sign I need; we all started playing volleyball being aware of the risks, some of us even considering making a career out of it despite knowing the high risks once we get older.

So instead of going in against his decisions anymore, we clap and congratulate him and let him explain all about the sport he’s going to be practicing from now on. Let him gloat about how he’s certain he’ll become a Paralympics Libero someday, just like he was planning when he still could. And we support him, not saying another word about the dangers, because we know he’s aware. And there’s not a single person among us who can tell Nishinoya anything other than “we’re happy for you!”.

And I am happy for him, never been happier. It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen a smile this big on Nishinoya’s face, immediately causing me to feel a little happier myself. It’s good to see that he’s found his purpose in life again. Now, I know, he’s going to give it his all. He’s going to get as strong as he possibly can. He’s going to become the world’s best Libero on the sitting volleyball court.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Kei Tsukishima
Sunday, 09:00

Days blur into nights. Nights blur into days.

It’s all a haze.

That’s how everything has been feeling lately. One big blur where I lay in bed facing the ceiling or the window. Yet, I haven’t seen the sun shine through my shitty blinds even once. I haven’t seen the old dino-themed lamp that has been hanging above my bed since my birth cast its dim light over me.

Sure, I can feel it, when the night turns into day, because as soon as the sun shines at its brightest, all I can do is hide my head under the covers. Mom bought me new curtains, less shitty ones, but despite them, a headache still kills me during the days. With the help of strong painkillers and a blanket to cover my eyes – I tried using a sleeping-mask, but it hurt the still bruised, sensitive skin around my eyes – I manage to sleep through the painful days.

At night I’m often awake, not tired enough to sleep through the darkest hours. So I just lay here, listening to music on my old MP3-player, since it’s easier to control without sight than my phone. Sometimes I get out the volleyball that always lays in my room and throw it in the air. Keep my muscles moving; I don’t want to be all out of shape when I get my vision back. That’s why I, especially during the first weeks after the accident, I tried to do as many things like I usually would; walk to the kitchen and eat together with my mom and brother if I was awake enough to do so, go to the bathroom on my own and obviously putting on a fresh set of clothes every now and then.

Mom has been trying to make it easier on me. She was the one who came up with the idea of putting a line of rippled tape all over the wall to help me find the bathroom on my own, and last week she put an app on my phone that helps me navigate through my phone. My phone couldn’t handle it too well, though, so Akiteru ended up swapping phones with me. His phone is fancier, not one of those with the buttons, but a second-hand mobile phone with the flat screen and all. The app does do its job, I guess, but it’s extremely annoying. Every morning I wake up to the robotic female voice chirping “you have over 100 new messages” reminding me of the friends who are having fun together.

Sometimes when I lay awake, I listen to the messages and voice-mails I have. I don’t use the special app for that, because Akiteru taught me an easier way. It also includes an annoying female robot-voice, but it’s easy to use since I only have to press the home-button of his phone to activate it. That’s how I came to know that Daichi’s apparently out of his coma, getting better with each day. Nishinoya and Hinata are also healing. Kageyama doesn’t give many updates, but I know he’s still around as well.

I heard messages of them wanting to know how I was doing too, questions directed at me. They were worried. Especially Yamaguchi, who even showed up on our doorstep multiple times, I pretended to be asleep each time. Of course sometimes I actually slept through him showing up, but when I wasn’t I could hear the bell ringing and his voice shyly asking for me. I kept my eyes closed and back turned towards where I know the door to be, as mom or Akiteru, whoever opened the door, peeked inside to see if I was awake. “He’s not up for any visitors today,” they would tell Yamaguchi. Sending him away with a simple apology and an invitation to come back another time.

It wasn’t easy, pretending to sleep when I knew my best friend was standing in front of the door. Just like it’s not been easy a single time to ignore the robot-voice asking me if she could pick up my phone when another video call was started. Not once did my team forget to invite me too. Not once did I pick up. Sure, I miss them, but I also despise them. I know that’s wrong, but deep down I’m furious.

And as long as I cannot push that anger away, I shouldn’t face them. I shouldn’t keep them from getting better and making happy memories again. I shouldn’t be this mad at them for getting better.

But how could I be happy for them when everyone’s healing-

Everyone, except for me.

It’s the last day of March, according to my phone, I asked it earlier, when I woke up a couple of minutes after midnight. It’s been exactly twenty days since the surgery Dr Uchida performed on my eyes. I was told I might experience up to six months of blurred vision, but I wish that blurry vision was all I was experiencing. The pain is killing me, the eye-strain and the migraines, and maybe worse of all I cannot see a thing. Not when I open my eyes wide and let the supposed light flow in, not when I squint to see the small details I know are in my room. I can’t see shapes or shadows. Nothing.

After an forty-eight hour long migraine, mom took me to our family doctor. That was last Monday after a weekend of intense pain that could barely be controlled by the painkillers. It was the first time I went outside since I got back home after the accident and mom was hugging me to her arm the entire walk to the hospital. Tugging at me to make me walk in the right direction, because apparently I wasn’t walking even remotely straight whenever I thought I was.

Few things frighten me. Truly. But my heart was pounding the entire walk there, despite it being only ten minutes away from our home. I hadn’t left the house in literal weeks, and doing so really did make me so afraid. So easily angered, too. I got so mad with mom each time she pulled on my arm. I felt annoyed with every single person we came across on the streets, because I know there were many people. I might not have been able to see them, but I could feel their eyes staring at me.

In that moment, I wished Akiteru wouldn’t have had to work that day so he could’ve driven us there.

I wouldn’t have wanted him there, though; he hates seeing me this way and he’s not subtle about it. He wouldn’t have been able to make it through my doctors’ visit. I barely even made it through without breaking down myself, because after listening to the symptoms I was experiencing and taking a thorough examination of my eyes, my family doctor went silent. He didn’t have a solution for me. Just like the words Dr Uchida had told me, all he could tell me was that time could be key.

Waiting could work. Waiting could also, very likely, not get me my vision back.

But it was- is my only choice.

When I got home after that visit, I buried myself under my blankets and for the first time since toddlerhood I cried. Not loud. Not long. Not even many tears were spilled as I tried to process the news I’d been given. Very likely, the surgery has not worked. Very likely, I’ll be forever blind.

It was a hard pill to swallow. And I’m not sure that, even though almost a week has passed since, I have swallowed it completely.

Mom has given me the time to process, wrap my head around this in my own way. Unlike the days before our doctors’ visit, she hasn’t been forcing me to eat full meals at the table three times a day and instead makes it clear that she’s happy as long as I drink and eat a little bit for breakfast and a little bit for dinner. I can stay in bed all day, she won’t bug me anymore. And I’ve granted myself the allowance to turn off the notifications on my phone for a week, not having to listen to my friends as they celebrate them surviving in their way has been one better thing. I don’t know if I could’ve gotten through this week if I had to listen to their sappy happiness all week while I’m processing my personal loss. I might’ve survived, but it doesn’t really feel worth celebrating losing the most important sense I have.

I’ve also been sleeping less lately. Despite it feeling like the same time all day and night, I lay awake probably up to twenty hours a day. Every hour or so, I check to see if the day is over yet.

I’m just about to ask my phone the time again, when a knock on the door sends a piercing headache through my head. It’s almost like since I lost my vision, the sounds around me have become louder. Or mom and Akiteru have just been louder overall because they don’t realize that being blind hasn’t impaired my hearing in any way. Anyway, they’re loud. And so are the knocks on my bedroom door.

I grumble something that must’ve sound like a “come in” to mom, because she comes inside, immediately greeting me in that overly cheerful voice of hers. There’s worry beneath there, just as usual, but there’s always a gloss of fake happiness over top of it. It’s almost like she’s afraid she’ll break me if she doesn’t act all happy around me, but in reality her faked cheerfulness is making me feel like she’s ridiculing me. Like she’s not taking me seriously. Or, maybe even worse, like she still has hope that this will all be alright some day. But we all know that, even if time will give me some of my vision back, I’ll never see enough again. Not even with glasses. So, there’s no need to act like there’s hope.

“How are you doing, dear?” she asks me. The mattress gives way when she sits down beside me. I can feel her hip pressing up against my back, and not much later, her hand carefully rakes through my hair. “It’s growing long,” she says when I don’t reply to her question right away. “And really unruly.” She chuckles as one of her fingers get caught on my curls. Her laugh fades. She remains silent.

She’s just saying things to be talking, to make me feel less alone, but after doing this every day for weeks she’s running out of things to say. Usually she’d start talking about food now, or about me needing a shower, or even about me needing to put on fresh clothes after lying around in the same pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt for almost two weeks now. But she doesn’t. Instead she just sits there, with her hand stroking my head, in silence.

I swallow, clearing my throat, before muttering, “So, what did you come here for?” It comes out sounding blunt, like I want her gone. Probably because there’s a part of me that really wants to be alone, but mainly because I haven’t spoken much at all over the course of this week. My voice sounds rough and scrapy and that automatically makes me sound like I’m bothered just because she’s here.

I’m not. For the most part, I’m glad that she won’t allow me to go through this all on my own. I’m glad Akiteru does the same, though he sometimes only makes me feel worse than mom does; Akiteru some days tries his best to cheer me up, by chatting to me about his day or casually announcing that he’s going to listen some music with me despite me not really giving him permission to enter my room, while other times he’s choking back tears. At least, mom has chosen a way to act around me and sticks to it. She’s predictable and, while I’m annoyed with her whole happy-act, it’s better than having to hear the people around me cry about something that’s happening to me.

“Well.” There’s that nervous, worried, undertone again, shining through. “I have an idea, it’s nothing big, but-“ She’s clearly choosing her words carefully, as she’s done the past times she came up with ideas. “-it could really help you get adjusted to your situation a little more.”

With “my situation” she means the blindness, not the lying in bed in filthy clothes all day every day. Or so I think, because to the latter situation I’m fully adjusted if you’d ask me.

“Oh?” I don’t even try to sound curious. I don’t need to, she’ll tell me anyway.

“Yeah, I’m thinking you would enjoy to get out of bed a little more often. Get around on your own-“ She’s stalling.

“So?”

“So, I found this special program with specialist who will-“

Could she use any more words? I close my eyes and roll them, my headache doesn’t thank me.

“-teach you how to use a white cane and other important things you’ll need to learn.” She’s smiling in anticipation, I can hear in her voice. I swear I can even feel it in her breathing. “It’s called Orientation and Mobility Training. They have weekly sessions, they’re not expensive at all, and-“

“No thanks.” I pull the blanket over top of me, rolling tightly into it. After Monday’s experience I’d rather not leave my cocoon; yes it’s hot underneath the pile of blankets and it’s slowly starting to reek, but it’s safe in here. There’s no obstacles, no people. Does mom have any clue how much attention a white cane with attract from the people around me. The world will be filled with so many sympathetic stares, and no one will treat me normal again, not even my friends. No. Thanks. I repeat to myself.

“No thanks?”

“Yeah.”

Mom scoffs, shock as if she didn’t expect this already. “Well, too bad.”

I open my eyes. The same old nothingness greets me. “Too bad?” I reply.

“Yeah, too bad,” she repeats, there’s no pity in her voice now. “Akiteru and I already signed you up. First meeting’s tomorrow afternoon.” She pauses, there’s that cheerfulness again as she tells me, “Oh and they’re group sessions, so you better shower before then, okay?” She gets up, saying one last, happy “You’ll thank me later.” before closing the door behind her.

Leaving me alone with the nothingness that surrounds me. And with one clear assignment; get used to the thought of getting out of bed again. Get used to being blind.

It’s about time you start healing like your friends.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Koushi Sugawara
Monday, 13:09

With each small recovery that Daichi makes, it feels like one part of my wish is granted. In just ten days, so much has happened. So many good, small, improvements that were all celebrated in large ways.

Just one day after our teammates visited, Daichi suddenly made an amazing improvement; he started to be able to move his fingers a little. This meant they could start the physical therapy for his fine motor skills. In just a few days, obviously filled with intense physical therapy, he can now almost move all his fingers and it probably won’t be long before he can use his entire hands again.

This improvement seemed small for me at first, not worth celebrating, but miss Sawamura thought otherwise. Her son was getting stronger again, and though the doctors doubt he’ll get to do things like standing or walking anytime soon, him gaining strength in his fingers and hands again could mean he’ll be able to move himself around in his powered wheelchair. Already making him less dependent.

On top of that, he got weaned of the vent completely earlier this week. He still relies on the tube in his throat to breathe, and it’s a must because his ability to swallow safely has also been taken away by his brain injury, but the removal of the vent meant that he could finally start speech therapy as well. This speech therapy is now still mostly about getting the muscles in his face stronger, since he physically cannot make the movements he needs to speak, and trying to teach him how to make sounds when there’s no air passing through his vocal cords anymore. They gave him a special thing to put over the tube in his throat, called a speaking valve I believe, to make the speaking easier once his muscles also allow him to speak aloud. I don’t know exactly how it works, but from what I’ve been told the speaking valve blocks the tube in his throat when he’s breathing out. The air he breathes goes up through his airway and so it also passes through his vocal cords. With practice, he should be able to talk with it.

The speech therapy, and maybe also the speaking valve, is doing its job, no doubt; lately, his laughs have been getting louder, which is amazing when we’re having conversations – I try to do that more too, actually try and have a proper conversation with him, since he seemed to enjoyed it so much when our teammates visited. But his screams also got louder because of this.

I admit, it startles me whenever Daichi gets cramps. Despite the constant use of arm and leg braces to keep them from bending and cramping, it still happens often, and when it does all Daichi can do is scream out in pain. There’s not much I can do either, apart from holding his hand and telling him comforting words, and even the nurses can’t do much more than give him painkillers, massage his joints and muscles as we wait for the pain to pass. I hope that will get less, I hate seeing him in pain.

Apart from the pain, the care he needs has been getting less. Which resulted in him officially getting moved to a regular ward, on last week’s Wednesday.

His mother couldn’t be more happy, yet tears flowed over her cheeks because she had to hear it over a video-call. With Daichi needing less and less care even though he was still in a critical care unit, so she decided to go home to Daichi’s four younger siblings, since they have Spring break at the moment. She didn’t want to leave, but I promised to call with daily updates on how Daichi’s health and improvement. She had never dared to dream he would grow so much stronger in her time away.

Her excitement about every improvement, no matter how small, has me celebrating everything as well. That’s how I end up letting out a happy cheer when one of the regular wards’ nurses, nurse Benjiro, tells me Daichi actually took a step while making his way to from his bed to his wheelchair this morning. “Of course his muscles have gotten a lot weaker over the course of the past weeks,” he explains to me when I ask him what this means in terms of Daichi’s improvement. “But the fact that he’s starting to attempt to walk along, and isn’t showing as much pain anymore, is a good sign.”

Just as always Daichi listens closely to each word everyone says. He always looks so serious when he’s doing that, his eyes shifting between the people who are talking. I know he remembers everything and makes his choices and forms opinions inside of his head. I wonder what exactly is going on inside his head, but sadly I haven’t mastered mind-reading. Sometimes I ask him, try to figure out what he’s asking by using Tanaka’s multiple-choice technique. But I feel like I’m not even close.

I hope there’s a time, ever in the future, where he can just tell me what he wants to know. Hell, I’d love it for him the most if he could ask all his questions himself. That way he doesn’t have to wonder, and I don’t have to guess, always left feeling like I asked the wrong things afterwards.

I thank nurse Benjiro for the information, and for getting Daichi situated in time for his day filled with various forms of physical therapy and, of course, a session of speech therapy. Once the door closes behind the nurse, I turn to Daichi and make a tiny happy dance.

“That’s amazing, isn’t it!” I say, smiling at Daichi.

He looks at me with that look that he’s been giving me a lot lately. Like he’s judging me for celebrating the fact that he’s healing. One eyebrow perked up all the way, his eyes kind of squinted.

“What!?” Warmth immediately spreads over my cheeks when a laugh escapes from his mouth. “You’re seriously judging me? I’m happy for you!”

He blinks once and lets out a chuckle.

He’s definitely judging me.

“Well-“ I roll my eyes and cross my arms. “I’m just going to be happy anyway. No matter how much you judge me.” I let out a huff, before glancing down at my lap. A specific sadness washes over me when I see that it’s almost time for me to leave. I’ve felt that same feeling a lot lately; when I’m with Daichi the time goes by fast, especially since the moments where I can visit him grow shorter with every day that passes. He’s healing, but he has to work hard for it every single day. Meaning that he’s got appointments all over the hospital almost all day and is obviously dead-tired the rest of the time.

I spend a lot of time alone because of that. Alone, playing games or texting with the team on my phone, and ignoring dad’s calls and angry voice-messages, to pass the time.

I look up at him with a forced smile. “You have physical therapy in fifteen,” I remind him. “How about I’ll take you up to the gym already? We can take a detour, we have time.”

Opens his mouth. His lips move, but there’s only silence. He closes his mouth again and blinks once, his head nods a little, just like they’re teaching him to do instead of just blinking now that he’s stronger. His smile, though just about as forced as mine, tells me he would like that. Or so I think.

I take stance behind the wheelchair before starting out walk. I take us for a walk over the little balcony with a view on the hospital’s garden, because I love the view, especially when the sun is shining like today. It’s not too cold either and we can both get some fresh air despite not actually going outside.

We pause here, for a little bit, I turn Daichi’s wheelchair so that he can also see the view.

We head back inside on the other side after a few minutes, soon reaching the elevators. The gym isn’t far from the elevators, so despite the detour, we reach it quite early nevertheless.

“There you go,” I tell Daichi when we reach the big gym they use for physical therapy to stimulate and train the gross motor skills. There’s a large window, and yesterday when I was really bored, I sat on the other side and watched one of Daichi’s first physical therapy sessions. He was not happy with me. For the first time since the accident, he showed me that daunting glare of his.

He was clear. He does not want me watching his therapy sessions. Which, honestly, is understandable. If I was in his shoes, I wouldn’t want him watching me either in a moment as personal as that.

Today, I’ll just go to the motel I’ve been staying at instead. It’s the third motel, each time I have to switch, after a couple of days, they get further away. I have to take a bus to get to the hospital now.

I carefully peek inside through the big window to see if we can go inside, but there’s still someone else getting their therapy session. This person’s already walking with help of those large metal bars. I wonder if there’ll come a day where Daichi will get to do that.

I shake that thought, because I want to be able to keep holding onto the small improvements being just as big as something like walking and talking again. The movement of a finger, for Daichi, could mean being able to get around in his wheelchair independently. Baby steps, I tell myself, and just like you would do with each step a baby takes, we’ll celebrate everything Daichi is able to do again.

I turn away from the window, towards Daichi, and say, “There’s still someone in there.” I sit down beside him and tell him this might take a little while. “I’ll wait here with you.”

He nods once, smiling gently. I return the smile and look away, but even after looking away, I can feel his eyes are staring at me. When I glance over to see what he’s looking at, if it’s really me, anticipation can be read from his face, almost like he’s expecting me to do something.

“Is there something I can do for you?” I ask, my voice sounds like I’m joking, mocking him for staring at me. But I’m actually concerned; I never know, he might be feeling loads of pain as we speak, or experiencing a blocked tube that needs to be cleaned out, or- Hell it could be anything. And if it’s something I can help him with, I want to know.

Daichi blinks a couple of times, not in the special way that’s an answer, but more like his thoughts were drifting off and my words woke him up from his daze. His eyes clear up and then he blinks again, twice to be specific, while gently shaking his head. When his eyes open again, he smiles a little.

It looks strained.

“Something’s up,” I say. It’s only a guess, but it’s a correct guess, because despite Daichi clearly wanting to deny it, I can see a grimace on his face. Before I know it, he lets out a grunt of pain, he’s having cramps again. I can tell by the way he’s straining back screams, making little cries and moans that come out of his mouth. His fingers curl up, pressing against the brace around his hand.

Is it too tight? I think to myself. Does he need painkillers? Should I get a nurse? Should I-

A small grumble, other than a cry makes it out of Daichi’s mouth. It sounds a little like a “hey!”, like he’s trying to catch my attention. When I glance over at him, I try not to show the panic that’s happening inside my mind. He doesn’t try to show his pain.

His eyes stare at me, frowning at the pain. Every now and then he blinks, breathing loudly as he fights against the cramps. The cramps that no one, especially not me, can do anything about.

His eyes open up and stare at me. When our eyes meet, his quickly shift towards his hand. Once. Twice. Again, until my gaze finally follows his. When I do so, his index finger moves up towards me a little.

When I look up to him, he looks back at me with anticipation. Like I’m supposed to do something.

But what?

“Do you want me to loosen the brace?” I guess.

Daichi lets out a strained cry, before shaking his head. No.

“Do you need painkillers?”

Another no.

“Do you-“ My voice falters. I don’t know what he wants me to do. Sometimes it’s just too hard to read him, it’s always been like that. Daichi has never been easy to read, but up to now, that never used to be a problem. Now, I don’t know what the best choice is. And I hate it.

“Should I leave? Get a nurse?” I ask him, the panic slowly starting to shine through my words. “They’ll know what to do.”

He shakes his head. Grunting in annoyance.

There’s that look again. Frustration can be read from his face. I cannot read him. He hates that too.

I stare back at him, shaking my head. I take a deep breath before admitting, “I don’t know what to do.”

Daichi’s shoulders shrug a little before a small, strained smile forms on his face. One eyebrow raises and his mouth perks up like he’s telling me, “That’s alright, me neither.”

I nod once, agreeing.

Our eyes meet. And his eyes do it again. Moving from my face, to his hand. Slower, this time.

I follow his gaze. His hand shakes before he opens it up towards me again.

I squint when I look up at him. “Do you want me to hold your hand?”

Daichi lets out a sigh that just screams “finally” before he nods. That’s what he wanted all along.

“Alright.” I reach out my hand, carefully wrapping my fingers around both the brace and his hand. Even before I’m properly having hold of him he tightly squeezes my hand, which kind of hurts me too. I let out a small “ouch”, which makes him chuckle. With my hand in his, he gets through the toughest parts. Me grunting in pain along with him each time a wave of pain causes his hand to grab mine tighter.

We sit like this for another minute or so. I bet it must feel like an eternity to him, before the cramps finally doesn’t cause him to feel intense pain anymore.

After that minute passes, we both go silent. Apart from the shallow, loud breaths Daichi takes. I think we’re past the peak, but it’ll probably last another few minutes before the pain fully settles.

We just sit there, he’s completely out of breath and honestly, so am I. My adrenaline spikes each time Daichi’s in pain, but especially this time, since it was the first time it happened without a button to call a nurse anywhere nearby. So, we both sit here, beside each other, me still holding his hand. I stare at the wall and try to take deep breaths again as my adrenaline takes off, when suddenly a small sound draws my attention back towards Daichi.

I glance over at him, squinting as I try to figure out what I just heard. It was different from a laugh or a grunt of pain. It was inaudible, yet sounded so much like words that I immediately ask, “Hm? Did you say something?” Even though I know that would be ridiculous.

Daichi’s eyes look at me, and for a minute feel like he’s about to blink. Twice, because he didn’t speak. Right? But instead of blinking, he opens his mouth, a small sound comes out. And then a different kind of whisper sounds. “Thank you-“ The voice that speaks sounds far from Daichi’s usually strong and present voice, instead it’s barely audible. That’s how quiet it sounds. His lips part again. “-Su-Suga.”

I stare at him, mouth dropping when I realize what I just witnessed.

The expression on Daichi’s face when we meet eyes might be even more surprised. His cheeks are red, eyes watering and mouth gaping. He just spoke, and it seems like he cannot even believe it himself.

“Did you just speak?” A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.

He nods once, at the same time as blinking once.

I place my hands on his shoulders and repeat, “You just spoke! Like- what the fuck, that’s amazing, Daichi!” Without really thinking, I wrap my arms around him and give him the tightest hug ever. When I let go of him, backing up, his cheeks are red and wet from the tears that run down them and there’s the largest smile ever on his face. I can’t help but shed a few tears myself, because even though he only spoke three words, he spoke three words! That is the most he’s spoken since he woke up from his coma. It means more things are possible. And through every small thing that becomes possible, I’ll be standing by his side. Holding small celebrations.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Shouyou Hinata
Friday, 09:20

The livingroom is starting to look more and more like a hospital room. So does the kitchen, if I’m being honest. It looks a little crazy if you’d ask me. There’s this big machine, white and futuristic looking in our livingroom. It’s awkwardly tucked between our comfortable couches. It’s a strange mix, the brown of our couches with the white of the chunky machine. It’s also strange that there’s now an entire bins of cloths and tubes and other medical stuff sitting in our kitchen cabinets instead of mugs and plates, because the doctors were clear about keeping the antiseptics, tubes and other stuff out of children’s’ reach. And while I trust Natsu won’t play with it, mom made sure that she couldn’t get to my stuff easily, just like she’d already done with my prescriptions already.

This change in the living room catches me off guard when I get down in the morning. I’m still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, when suddenly seeing the massive home-dialysis-machine-thing standing in the living room. I was there, watching as two men installed here yesterday, but I kind of forgot.

In one wave, the excitement I had yesterday comes rushing back to me. Sure, kidney failure’s in no way fun, but having a thing that looks like it’s from a science fiction movie standing in your living room is. Natsu can agree on that, because she couldn’t stop watching it as it ran its first round – without me attached to it, of course, because we had to check if everything was working well.

Today, I’ll actually be able to use it. With mom’s help of course, since she was paying the most attention during the multiple sessions of nurses teaching us how to use a dialysis at home.

“Morning!“ My voice draws the attention of mom and Natsu, who are both seated at the breakfast table. They’re both already almost done eating, but it still smells like pancakes. I know I won’t get to have any, because of my diet, but I don’t mind because mom bought me yogurt and loads of berries instead. Each morning, I now get to enjoy what tastes like a special treat, while at the same time also being good for me and my kidneys. Plus, it’s only for me, which makes Natsu a little jealous; hence why she gets to have pancakes twice a week now.

“Good morning, Shouyou,” mom greets me before getting up and disappearing in the kitchen, probably to make me my breakfast. “You’re up late.”

“Yeah, sorry, I thought I’d sleep in-“ I don’t admit that I kind of forgot that I have to run a round of dialysis, and that right before heading to Tokyo by train. It’s going to be a tiring day.

I eye the machine that sits in the corner of the livingroom and smile excitedly. “So, when can I use it?”

A chuckle escapes from mom’s mouth. “You’re that excited?” she asks from behind the kitchen’s wall. I hear the crinkling of the package of the berries, which means my feeling that she’s making my breakfast’s right. “You know it will be about the same as at the hospital, right?”

“It’s different,” I protest.

“Alright then,” mom laughs. “You will get to use it after you had breakfast and took a shower.” Mom comes walking out of the kitchen with a bowl in one hand and a glass of water, I need to swallow my meds, in the other. “Breakfast’s ready,” she announces.

“Hm-“ I hesitate, before asking, “Can’t I eat breakfast and have the dialysis at the same time?”

“No.” Mom’s tone is clear.

“Ah, why not?” I sigh before starting to make my way over to the breakfast table; it was worth a try.

“You know what the rules are; you need to wait for two hours after eating before you can get dialysis, remember? Those same rules go here.” She pauses, placing my food on the table. “You’ll have breakfast, take your medicine and you can take a shower or even a bath afterwards. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to set an alarm for a little over half past eleven-“

“Twenty-one minutes eleven,” Natsu corrects mom.

I check the clock; it is, indeed, exactly twenty-one minutes past ten right now. “She’s right!”

Mom disagrees, explaining that the two hours only start after I finish eating. “Otherwise his blood-pressure could get really low, which can make him feel very sick.” Mom shoots me a stern look. “Shouyou, you know this. Have you not paid any attention when the nurses explained it to you?”

I shrug. I tried, I swear, it’s really interesting and all. But it’s clear that I’m not made for the world of medicine; I just do not have the brains for it.

But mom did listen, so maybe if I want to get better and not worse, I listen to her. So, I do exactly what she asks me to do; I eat my breakfast, take all my meds and head upstairs where I take a long bath. I get out when my own alarm clock informs me that it’s exactly twenty-one minutes past eleven, because that means I have about ten minutes to put on my clothes and dry my hair before mom’s alarm goes. I take my time putting on my jeans and T-shirt, and I dry my hair. When I leave the bathroom a sudden wave of cold causes goose bumps to erupt over my arms, so I put a hoodie over top of my T-shirt, before heading downstairs.

When I walk into the livingroom, mom’s flipping through the instruction-book they gave her one last time. I can tell by her inaudible mumbling that she’s certainly more nervous than me. I’m excited.

“You ready?” I ask mom, my voice startling her.

She looks up with that expression she has whenever I talk to loud. It soon fades, though, and her expression softens when she lays eyes on me. She does that a lot lately, look at me with a soft and slightly sad expression on her face. I wonder why, it’s not like I’m dying. Not anymore, at least.

I mean, we’ve got this cool-ass device at home to make sure I don’t.

She smiles and nods once. “Are you?”

I nod a couple of times before rushing over, I’m starting to get actually fast despite the crutch. Within a matter of seconds, I flop down on the couch and watch her every move as she gets everything ready for the dialysis. She takes out tubes that seem to magically unfold from the machine and double-checks to see where they should go. With the attachment-thingy in my chest, this first step is not too hard. She doesn’t even need to prick me with a needle, like she was afraid she should. Both mom and the nurses make it looks so easy that even that I could probably do it myself if mom wasn’t too worried I would hook the wrong tube up to the wrong port. It’s the thousand of buttons with treatment-settings and number that make it hard for me to understand. So, mom does that for me.

I watch her as she flips through the book of instructions, following every word the highlighted parts say.

Finally she makes sure to have it run a round of two hours, since I have to catch my bus around two and get to the train of half past two in the afternoon if I want to make it to Tokyo for the weekend, like I’m planning to do for every weekend until Kageyama and Daichi aren’t in the hospital anymore.

“There you go,” mom tells me, rising to her feet. “Anything you need me to do for you? Put on a movie? Get a board game and Natsu?”

I shake my head. “Nah, I think I’ll see if Kageyama’s up already.” I smile, unable to wait to tell him about this futuristic device being inside of my home. And of course tell him about the videos of a match of that sitting volleyball – what Nishinoya told us about – I watched yesterday evening, because they made me think of him. Because he’s an amputee. He could play it too, right? “But thank you.”

“Alright then.” She tousles my hair, before heading upstairs to get herself ready for the day as well.

I close my eyes, taking a few calm breaths to enjoy the silence- or well, the constant buzzing of the machine. Even just taking a bath and putting on clothes has my entire body aching. I don’t like to show it to others too much, sometimes I don’t even admit it to myself, but my muscles are tired. My mind is tired too, more often than it used to be, at least. I need a second to breathe and rest.

A short second.

But as soon as that second passes, I open my eyes again and grab my phone. I unlock it and call Kageyama. I know he should be awake by now, because morning rounds don’t wait for you to wake up; the hospital doesn’t know that Spring break involves sleeping in till half past nine.

It’s no surprise that Kageyama picks up after just three buzzes. His voice is scratchy and just as chronically-annoyed-sounding as usual when he says, “Hello, what are you calling for?”

“Hey,” I respond, before telling him that I’m just calling for fun. “Oh, and-“ I add when I see that his camera is, yet again, turned off. “-this is a video-call, you know.” I swear this guy just doesn’t know how phones work; I know his phone has a camera, but he somehow always fails to use it.

“I am aware.” He doesn’t sound too pleased.

“Then turn on your camera, stupid!”

“Uh, no?” It sounds a bit like a question. He’s silent for a moment before adding, “I’d rather not.”

I let out a sigh and let my head rest up against the pillow of the couch. “I know it’s different with the team, but remember that I have seen you after the accident. I know how you look; like a mummy and stuff-“ I pause. Eyes growing larger at the thought. “Wait, or did your bandages come off?”

“No,” he replies as soon as the words reach him. “No, they have not.” I can hear that he hesitates before admitting, “The doctors say it’s about time for them to get off, but-“

“But?” I encourage him to keep speaking when he goes silent.

He grumbles something inaudible.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Something!” I disagree. “Just tell me!”

“I’m afraid, okay!” he snaps. “Now happy?”

I pause. “Afraid? Why?”

“Oh- dammit you’re so stupid-“ he grumbles so silently that I feel like I wasn’t supposed to hear. His voice sounds angry, yet also not-angry when he says, “I’m afraid about facing myself. Not how I look perse, but having to face what I’ve lost.“ He swallows audibly. “Facing reality.”

I stay silent. I don’t quite know what to tell him, because while his fear makes sense to me, it also doesn’t. Like, Kageyama lost a lot, losing a leg, the flexibility of your skin, losing a full hand of fingers isn’t something the average person would want to go through. Let alone a volleyball setter who had plans and potential to get in the all-Japan team.

But one day he’ll have to face it. He knows that. So why is he stalling? Stalling will only make things worse, because that way he’s going to get all creepy visions inside of his head of what he looks like. I know how that works; I had that too, when they said it was about time they’d take of my bandages. And look at me now, I’m not scared of the port in my arm or the scars on my tummy, because I faced them. I know his situation is a lot tougher than mine but-

“Well, it is time to rip the Band-Aid off,” I tell him.

He loudly disagrees. “Did you not hear what I just said!?”

“I did,” I promise him. “I just think it’s time. I bet the constant bandage around the wound cannot be good for its healing-“ That’s something mom always tells me, to let it air. “-and they’re also definitely unable to give you physical therapy if you’re all wrapped up like a mummy. And you want to heal.”

“That’s-“ His voice is snappy at first, and I can tell exactly what words he’s swallowing down before he eventually settles on, “-actually not as dumb of an argument as I thought you were going to make.”

“Yay!”

“But,” Kageyama continues after a while. “How do I rip the Band-Aid off?”

“Uh-“ Good question. I tap with my hand on my leg, thinking about how he should do this. “Well, you obviously shouldn’t be alone,” I tell him.

“I need my plastic surgeon there anyway, so-“

“Not what I mean.” I shake my head. “I mean, you need someone there like your sister or a friend, someone who can stand by you and help you through it when it gets too much. You know?”

“Oh.” He pauses. “Okay.”

“And you should plan it, because you can’t just be like “boom! now I’ll do it”. You need to have time to prepare, like mentally, but also by taking painkillers in case it’ll be painful.”

“Okay.” I can hear him nodding.

“And most importantly, you must feel like it’s time.” I nod to myself.

“It’s definitely time,” he admits, and though I can still hear that nervousness in his voice, he’s also clearly serious about this. “The bandages must come off; they’re itchy and they make moving a pain.”

“Good.” I pause. “So, what now?”

“So,” he replies. “I’m going to rip the Band-Aid off, tomorrow, three-fifteen in the afternoon.”

I frown lightly. “But that’s during visiting hours, right? So I’ll be over?“

“Exactly. So don’t you dare be late.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Tobio Kageyama
Saturday, 15:00

Exactly three in the afternoon, on the dot, there's a happy knock on my door.

"I'm here!" Hinata's voice announces from behind the door. He's right on time, standing in front of my door as soon as the visiting hours will let him.

It wasn't easy, asking Hinata to be there when they take the bandages off, but it's my only choice. I cannot be alone, and no matter how much I love my sister, I can't have her be here when they take them off either. She too much like me, having her stand right beside me as I take my first look in the mirror will only remind me of what used to be. On top of that, she blames herself for the fact that I lost a leg. She just can't be here.

Hinata can.

He understands what I'm going through, to some extend at least. And he was there with me in the forest, being one of the constant factors that begged me to hold on and keep fighting. I now need him to, once more, help me hold onto reality again. Grace me with his unending hope, or something.

His bright smile when he walks into my room tells me he has brought that optimism of his with him.

I admit, he wasn’t a fan of the plan right away. Part of me feels like he’s secretly just as nervous about seeing what I look like underneath these bandages. But after talking about it for a little, he agreed.

There’s nothing of that nervousness to be seen as he walks into my room and drops himself into the chair that stands beside my bed like he owns the place.

“So,” he says, once he’s got himself situated in the chair. “Did you do what I tell you to do?”

He makes it sound like he gave me some big assignment, while in reality he briefly mentioned planning the appointment for getting the bandages off. “I did,” I tell him. “My plastic surgeon, Dr Haku, should be arriving in fifteen minutes or so.” I made sure not to plan an appointment with them straight away, because I wanted Hinata to have time to settle down slowly before we jump into the hardest part of today. Maybe even the hardest thing in my entire life. “And I took painkillers half an hour ago.” I always take painkillers, but I asked my nurse for a higher dose for this afternoon. Dr Haku has already warned me that removing the bandages won’t be completely painless, so I’ve done everything to make it hurt as little as possible. After all, I don’t want to start freaking out when Hinata’s here.

“Great!” Hinata nods to himself. Then his eyes look up at me and he asks, “Are you prepared?”

I shrug. I don’t know if someone can be prepared for facing themselves after an accident that changed them so much. But I did what I felt I needed to do; I took some deep breaths, made an appointment and told myself that I was just going to do this. For the first time since the accident, I’ll allow the nurses to get the big mirror from the bathroom and put it in the room so I can see myself for once and for all.

This is a hurdle I’ll just have to surpass, and once I’ve done that, things will get better. If I’m to belief Hinata and his positivity, that is.

“That’s good enough,” Hinata says, as a reaction to my shrug. He goes silent for a little while, before starting to talk again. He just rambles a little, like he does. Like he did on our call too, yesterday. He just talks about everything that’ll keep my mind off of the terrifying thing that’s about to happen.

None of his words really reach me, though.

There’s a constant pulsing in my ears that grows louder with every second that passes. Until it finally all lifts away when the clock chimes a quarter past three. In that instance my heart seems to stop. From this moment on Dr Haku can walk into my room and they’ll unwind my bandages and-

My breathing jolts when a knock on the door interrupts my thought-process.

“Come in!” Hinata chimes, even though I didn’t tell him he should.

I glance over at Hinata, giving him a frown.

He shrugs, before quietly saying, “I’m going to help you rip the Band-Aid off remember? No stalling.”

I roll my eyes.

Hinata just smiles in return.

I turn back to the door, which slowly opens. Dr Haku backs into my room with their back towards me, on the front they’re carrying a cart that’s usually used for medicine. Instead of the packets of meds that the nurses usually carry with them, it’s now holding clean, thinner bandages, some big pots of antiseptic crèmes and, of course, a big bin to toss all the bandages they’ll take away from me today.

Dr Haku turns around once the entire cart is inside of my room, making the small hospital room look even more packed than usual now that there’s three people and a big iron cart inside.

“Good afternoon, Kageyama,” Dr Haku greets me. Then they turn to Hinata and say, “And good afternoon, Hinata. I understood you would be here to keep Kageyama company as we take of his bandages.” Dr Haku smiles at Hinata. “That’s really kind of you.”

Hinata shoots me a glance that asks two things. One being, “How does Dr Haku know my name?” and the second question most definitely being, “And is this doctor a man or a woman?”.

I shrug in response, not because I don’t know how Dr Haku knows Hinata’s name; I told Dr Haku that a friend would be joining me to stand by me as I did this massive thing and mentioned him by name. I shrug, because I cannot answer his second question. I literally still have not been able to figure it out; even Kiyoko, who was also treated by Dr Haku for the cut on her head weeks ago, had no clue. So-

I turn back to Dr Haku and, because Hinata made me promise not to stall any longer, I ask, “So, what now?” I stare at them with anticipation, but when Dr Haku doesn’t answer right away, I decide I must’ve not been specific enough. “How are we going to do this? What’s going to happen?” I try.

Dr Haku chuckles lightly. “Well, we’re going to start off by taking a slow breath.”

“I am taking slow breaths.” I’m most definitely not. I just want to get this over with.

"No, you're not," Hinata snitches.

"Yes, I am!" I snap at him.

Dr Haku lets out another chuckle before telling me that they have to agree with Hinata. "Your breaths could be a little slower." They show me a slow deep breath, exaggerating their breathing a little by making louder sounds. "Like that."

I try one of their breaths, but kind of fail halfway. I guess my breaths were really shallow before.

"Good job," Dr Haku says nevertheless. They turn away, towards the cart and say, "Why don't you focus on that while I get everything ready for the bandage removal?"

I nod once and start doing exactly that. Meanwhile I watch Dr Haku as they get some things ready. They set the bin by my side, put on gloves and  finally they turn to me.

"I'm going to need you to sit on the edge of the bed, like you usually do," Dr Haku tells me, already holding out their hands.

I take hold of their left shoulder, with my uninjured hand, like the nurses taught me to do when they help me sit upright.

"Breathe in for me," Dr Haku says once they've got their hands holding me the right way. As soon as they hear me suck in the air, they lift me up from the bed. In one swift, not painless but quick, motion they get me into a sitting position.

"And out."

The air hisses as I breathe out through clenched teeth. It's never fun to be pulled upright like this.

Together we turn me so I'm sitting on the edge and then take off my oversized vest which means I'm basically only wearing my boxers. This would feel weird if I wasn't wearing multiple layers of bandages underneath.

In a little bit these will all be gone.

Which also would be weird, if I didn't have bigger things going on.

"Are you ready?" Dr Haku checks with me one more time.

I nod once. "All ready." It's a lie.

Dr Haku nods in return. Their hands don’t shake like mine, not even as they carefully peel the little tapes off the top coat of the bandages. The first bandage to go is the one around my right leg, carefully unwinding after the small tapes come off. The first few layers don’t really hurt, but the closer we get to the wound, the more it starts to sting.

I hiss, sucking in the air through clenched teeth as we reach the final layers, closest to the burn.

It’s a familiar pain by now, but it’s not something I think I’ll ever get used to.

After the first bandage follows the one around my other leg. And then the ones around my arms. And each and every time, the few last bits hurt the most.

While Dr Haku unwinds the bandages, I stare at the wall across from me. Not once do I look down at my scars. I don't want to. I will, later, but not yet.

Every now and then, especially after the first few bandages have been completely removed, my eyes shift to Hinata, trying to see how bad it is by his response. His eyes are rather big, and I can see that his hands are shaking despite him trying his best to hide it.

When he catches me looking at him he smiles and promises, "You're doing great."

And only a few minutes later, I'm already clenching my teeth together and biting through the pain of the last bandages being removed. The ones around my middle are always the most painful, since they touch so much burned skin. Almost my entire back and chest are filled with both shallow and deep wounds.

I fight back whimpers of pain.

Hinata can't watch it anymore, or so I think, because he ends up announcing that he'll get the mirror from the bathroom. "Since you're almost done and all."

I take a breath and whisper, "Alright." I grimace and struggle down a groan of pain as Dr Haku removes the final bit of bandage.

"All done," Dr Haku announces.

The Band-Aid is ripped off.

Now I just need to face the damage that was hiding underneath.

"Hey! I could use some help over here!" Hinata shouts from the bathroom. "So, if you're done, can you come and help me carry the mirror to the room."

Dr Haku chuckles and excuses themselves. They rise to their feet, toss their gloves and head to the bathroom.

I stare at the wall and listen to them carrying the mirror over. It doesn't take them long. And to my relief they carry in the mirror facing away from me.

"You can put it down facing the wall," I tell them, because I'm still not quite ready yet. The moment feels wrong. Nothing against my plastic surgeon, but I don't want them here. I want a second to take everything in, a moment to wrap my head around everything. Without my doctor near.

So once Dr Haku puts the mirror down, I thank them for removing the bandages, before carefully asking,“Can I have a moment alone?”

They nod, telling me to take as long as I need. “Just page me when you’re finished. I’ll help you dress and get back in bed.” They wish we luck, because they probably know I’m going to need it; they’re a plastic surgeon, I bet they’ve seen injuries like mine before. And after saying that, they leave the room.

Hinata’s about to follow them.

“Don’t leave,” I tell Hinata.

“B-But-“ Hinata eyes the door. “-you asked to have a moment alone.”

I sigh and roll my eyes, trying to act normal while in reality I’m exploding on the inside, that’s how fast my heart is beating right now. “You can stay,” I tell him. “I want you here when-“ I shrug, nodding towards the mirror that’s been turned towards the wall. “You know.”

Hinata nods once. He closes the door behind him and takes stance beside the mirror. “You ready?” Hinata asks me. His hands hold the mirror, ready to turn it around when I say the word.

I take a deep breath. Slow- or well, as slow as I can. “I’m ready.” I close my eyes, because in reality I’m not actually ready. I listen closely as Hinata turns around the mirror. I can hear him gasping for air, I guess it’s pretty heavy, I didn’t think about that. I focus on his breathing at first and at every sound I hear beside my pounding heart, until Hinata finally says, “It’s turned around!”

I nod once, but don’t open my eyes straight away. Instead I take another breath, I swallow thickly, and I’m about to tell him to turn the mirror back around again. I’m ready to tell him that I can’t do it, because I’m nauseated and I’m lightheaded and my entire body hurts.

But then I hear Hinata’s voice in my head, telling me, “No more stalling.”

I hold onto those words as I slowly open my eyes.

I immediately search for Hinata’s face when I open them, still too scared to look in the mirror. Hinata’s looking right back at me. His eyes are filled with sympathy, but not pity. And a small smile followed by a nod towards the mirror encourage me to let my gaze slip from him to my reflection.

Staring back at me, is a guy. He seems small, almost so small that I’d say he’s more of a boy; skinny and light.

The boy in the mirror looks different from me, or well, I think he does. I wouldn’t know.

But he does have black hair that sticks in all directions, a little unruly, especially on the longer side. Like my hair. But unlike how I remember my hair to be, the hair on the right side of this boy’s head has been almost completely shaved away, or maybe even burned off when flames touched him there.

His eyes carefully look down, meeting mine. They’re big and blue and extremely terrified. One eye looks normal, maybe a little red from the tears that sting behind his eyes. The other looks a little swollen. The skin around it, extremely red. It has strange folds that reach all the way down to his mouth. A left hand reaches up to the boy’s face. It’s shaking, just like the rest of the boy’s body.

The boy’s chest is moving up and down so quickly, it looks painful. The skin around his right shoulder is tight and red and it barely stretches far enough as he breathes and uncomfortably shifts in his seat.

The skin down his arm looks different from the red tightness. It looks discolored and a little crusty and it looks like anything touching it would still hurt a lot.

My eyes follow his arm down to his hand, which also doesn’t have a bandage around it anymore. It used to be in a sling with a big ball of bandage wrapped around it. Hiding it.

I wish it was still hidden, because the way it looks makes my breaths tremble. It sends shivers down my spine. Where five fingers with perfectly filed nails attached to the hand before, there’s now just a hump of flesh at the end of his arm. It doesn’t even look like a hand anymore. It’s red and there are still stitches that close the wounds of where his fingers used to be, forever reminding the boy of his loss.

I avert my eyes to the floor, trying to fight against the tears that sting in my eyes. I won’t cry.

But it’s almost impossible not to feel my heart sink when I see only one foot sitting on the floor. One single foot that’s been burned pretty badly. The skin looks angry red and painful, but I would’ve loved to go through twice as much pain as one burned leg causes.

I look up at the boy in the mirror to see his cheeks are growing redder. Just like me, he eyes what’s left of his left leg. A small stump remains below his hip, just a couple of centimeters. There used to be a painful break below there somewhere, one where the bone stuck out and blood was smeared across the broken skin, but there’s nothing of that gore-ness to be seen.

Instead the remaining flesh has been nicely tied up into a bun. It’s not even red anymore, instead the scars are slowly starting to turn a less angry red, more of a pink, but still loud and unnatural compared to the light skin surrounding it. They’re becoming permanent, just like the leg that’s forever lost.

I look back up to see tears well up the in the eyes of the boy in the mirror.

I open my mouth to say something, ask Hinata anything about the things I didn’t expect; my hair being gone, for instance, or the square patches of sore and deeper pink skin that fill up the left side of my body. Why are they there? What are they? But the questions never leave my mouth.

Instead a tiny whimper sounds.

Tears stream over the cheeks of my reflection. My reflection with the red and uneven scars all over the right side of his body. My reflection with the right hand with no fingers. My reflection with the missing left leg. My reflection, that looks nothing like how I remember it to be.

I’m so small. So fragile. So-

So not me.

And yet it matches with what I expected. Just also not. And it makes me very confused.

“Kageyama?” Hinata’s voice reaches my ears. Careful. Calm, unlike the panic that rushes through me.

I try to focus on my breaths, like Dr Haku told me earlier, but I can’t. I can’t seem to take a full breath. I can’t seem to stop sobbing. But have no clue why; I was warned about this, wasn’t I? So then, why?

A cold hand rests on my shoulder, not the shoulder with the flaming red and tight skin, but my unharmed shoulder. Five fingers gently squeeze it and a familiar voice whispers, “Kageyama, it’s okay.”

I look away from the mirror and towards Hinata, who sits beside me now. I don’t know when he moved, but he did, and he’s now sitting on the left side of me. His right leg, brushing past my left one.

I swallow thickly. “Is it?” A tear slips down my face.

Hinata nods once. But I’m not sure if it really feels okay. He can feel that hesitation, or maybe he can still see it, despite half of my face being pulled so tight by the scarring skin that I feel like I’m not showing any emotions at all. Hinata’s eyes glance over me, and then his mouth opens. “Yes, it is okay.” He pauses. “I can’t speak for you, of course, but for me it is.” There’s a gentle smile on his face, and despite what I expected from everyone when they saw me, there’s no disgust on his face. “Sure, you look different, but I think we all expected that. But I admit, this looks much better than when all the bandages cover you up.” He chuckles, I don’t know why. “It also looks thousand times better than when you just got hurt, I admit I didn’t think it would ever start healing this well.”

His words make sense. I think. I’m not sure.

“So,” Hinata carefully says. “What do you think?”

When I look into his eyes, it’s almost like he’s bracing himself for what I’m about to say. But I say nothing. In silence, I glance back at the mirror, trying to see what he sees. I see the parts where my skin is pinkish instead of red. They’re healing.

Some spots remain exactly the same as they used to be, like the left side of my face. Anyone who knows me would recognize it. And my left hand has been left completely unharmed, and even though I’m not a lefty, I could teach myself to do things with left. Right?

Another tear slips down my face. I choke back a sob.

“It’s okay to cry,” Hinata promises me. His hand carefully strokes the unharmed half of my back. “It’s okay to be shocked.” He pauses. “But don’t forget that it could’ve been worse.” He doesn’t say it like he’s ordering me to stop pitying myself. Instead, it sounds more like he’s reminding me to see the bright side of things. That’s Hinata for you. Normally I would think it’s annoying, but not today.

Today I nod and in between quiet whimpers that escape from my mouth, I tell him that he’s right.

Sure, I might look different. But maybe, in the end, it isn’t as bad as I made myself belief it would be.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Daichi Sawamura
Saturday, 15:34

Today has been a slower day than usual. Normally, they would get me up to physical therapy and speech therapy around this time, despite it being during the visiting hours. My mom and Suga feel like I should take as many moments for these appointments as I can handle. It makes my chance at healing bigger if I train a lot. I’m already growing a little stronger with each day. So, I have appointments with Dr Kikuchi, my physical therapist, and Dr Eijiri, my speech therapist, daily. I told them I wanted that.

Like, told them with words!

It wasn’t easy, I admit. It still is extremely hard to speak, I really have to concentrate, but things have been getting easier since. With some of Suga’s help, I was able to start a video-call with mom, tell her “hi” and watch her eyes as they filled up with tears. She promised they were happy tears. I believe her, because I cried happy tears too.

It has made things easier too. I can now keep somewhat of a conversation with the people around me. I can ask my nurses and doctors questions without needing anyone nearby. That’s how I found out, this morning, why today’s appointments had been cancelled. Because I asked nurse Benjiro about it.

He told me that, some days, people need a day off. Sometimes pushing yourself isn’t always the best.

It sounded logical at the moment; the same goes for volleyball practice. You can over-practice yourself. But lying in bed all day feels kind of useless.

It feels like a waste of time, especially since the time ticks by extra slowly when you’re not working hard the entire time. I haven’t actually taken a single moment in the past eleven years of my life to stand still; from the moment my own dad divorced my mom, I became part of the grownups of the family. I started helping taking care of my, at the time, baby brother and three year old sister. I went to school, made homework and in middle school, I started volleyball practice on top of that.

I don’t do the whole sitting still and waiting as the hours slowly tick away.

After hours upon hours of sitting here doing nothing except for listen to the soft sound of the television playing in the background, a knock on the door breaks the quietness. When I glance at the clock and see that it’s thirty-four minutes into visit hours, I decide that it must be Suga. He’s usually not late, though, but maybe today he had more things to do than usual. Maybe he took a detour.

I take a slow breath in, and as I exhale I focus on speaking. “Come in.” I’m not sure if he heard it all the way to the hallway. I’m still practicing to get my voice louder, just like I’m trying to get it less slurred and stuttery than it is at the moment. But after less than a week, I can say that I am really pleased with the level of control I’ve managed to gain over my voice.

The door opens slowly, and despite what I expected, it’s not Suga on the other side of the door.

Mom stands in the doorway. She looks like she just arrived here, since she’s still wearing her coat. But even just arriving here doesn’t make any sense; she was at home when I called her yesterday. She was in Miyagi with my siblings. She wasn’t even on her way here.

And yet, now she’s here. A smile on her face as she stands in the doorway of my hospital room, in Tokyo. One of her hands is wrapped around the lace of her bag. In her other hand, a much smaller hand. A hand that belongs to a little person that’s supposed to be in Miyagi, with mom.

“Daichi!” the small girl holding mom’s hand, also known as my youngest half-sister, chimes when she sees me. Her eyes are so big as they stare at me. The balloon in her hand taps up against the top of the doorframe as she runs into the my room. Her little pigtails float around her head as she attempts to jump onto my high bed, but even though she’s already three years old, she’s still only eighty-seven centimeters tall. It doesn’t look like she grew too much in the time I was away.

“Hey, short stuff.” I chuckle.

She looks up at me, and while her eyes look confused for a second when she hears my voice, I don’t think she’s old enough to truly understand what’s going on here. I do think mom told her about me being in the hospital and needing to take things really slow, but the excitement in her eyes makes it look like mom has brought her to an amusement park rather than to visit her hospitalized brother.

I wish I could reach out and tousle her hair like I normally would. But I’m not that far in physical therapy yet. I’m still only at moving my hands a little, and with help I can now take a hold of things. I cannot reach out yet, though. I wish mom would’ve waited to bring my youngest sister over, at least until I’m a bit more mobile. I want to hold her and cuddle her and show her I’m alright.

As of now, I can’t.

I glance up at mom and squint at her. I don’t make any sound, but I can tell that just by the look I’m giving her, she knows exactly what I’m wondering; what the Hell is my half-sister doing here?

“I’m sorry, I know it’s early-“ It sure is. “-but they all missed you so much. I couldn’t-”

I draw a quick breath and ask, “They?” Meaning, as in, plural.

She nods, eyeing the door, where carefully, one pair of curious eyes peeks around the corner, into the room. She’s got to be kidding me; she didn’t just bring my youngest sister, but everyone?

I’m not ready for this. I want to tell her, but before I even open my mouth, the door creaks a little as opens a bit further. On the hallway, clearly not as confident as their youngest sibling, stand all three of my other siblings. They’re all hunched together, so they can all catch a glimpse of me.

“Come inside, don’t just stand there,” mom tells them.

I want to tell her “no, please not”, because what if I get cramps while they’re here? What if I scream out in pain? Hell, what if I suddenly have a relapse and have to be put back on the vent? I might be on a regular ward now, but everything is still possible in these early stages of healing.

But my siblings came all the way out to Tokyo, that’s a five hour drive. They drove all the way here so they could see me. I cannot let mom take them back home without allowing them to visit me for at least half an hour, or so. So, despite my racing heart, I force a smile and say, “It’s okay.”

My oldest brother, the one who shares the same dad as my sister and me, is the first to step into the room. He’s careful, almost as if he’s approaching wildlife. His hand’s being squeezed to bits by my half-brother. Usually, the seven-year-old bud is loud and pretty good at getting into trouble; I think he’s the reason why I became so good at scolding people. But right now, he’s nothing like that.

He shyly hides behind his older brother’s leg, staring at me with big and scared eyes. He, unlike his younger sister, does know what’s going on. And unlike mom and Suga, he’s still too young to understand that I am okay. I’m still me.

Lastly follows my oldest sibling, my sister. She’s got her back turned towards me at first, as she focuses all her energy on closing the door. When she turns around to me, her eyes don’t even look at me. She does that a lot in public too, around people she doesn’t know well. But never has she looked away from me; despite being four years younger and than me and a good head shorter than me, she’s always stood up to me. She gave me a run for my money when it came to our fights and wrestling when we were younger. We’ve always butted heads. But we’ve still been siblings for the longest; she was my first younger sibling, and I have always been the older brother that towered above her and took a pleasure in annoying the crap out of her.

She doesn’t look at me, and I know exactly why; she’s the oldest, she knows what’s going on. I’m not sure what mom told the younger three, but I know mom told her exactly what’s going on with me. That poor kid probably knows about my brain injury and what it did to me physically. She just probably doesn’t know what to do with the information. That’s why she doesn’t look at me, because she doesn’t want to face what mom told her. She doesn’t want that image of her older brother to fade as she watches me lie in this hospital bed, unmoving and useless.

I glance at mom, my eyes begging her to tell me why. But she’s not paying attention to me, I am the oldest after all; she’s not used to having to turn to me anymore when there’s a three-year-old trying to climb into my bed. Mom kneels down beside my half-sister and whispers something in her ear. I vaguely hear the words. “Balloon” and “To him”. But all I know in the end is that my three-year-old sister, who doesn’t understand what’s going on, strongly disagrees with whatever mom told her.

Tears well up in her eyes. “No!” She stomps with her foot on the floor. “It’s my balloon!”

A smile forms on my face, because it’s nice to see that at least she’s still acting normal. Unlike my other three siblings, who stand all the way on the other side of the room. As close to the furthest wall as they possibly can. And honestly, what’s the most painful, is that I cannot blame them for doing so.

I don’t know what gave mom the idea of bringing them over so soon. What I don’t get even more so, is that she didn’t think to make sure I was okay with it. Alright, I never minded her taking my siblings everywhere, like to see matches and stuff, without asking me first. But this is different.

I’m in a hospital, slowly very slowly getting stronger after I was in a coma. After a suffered a brain injury. And even though I am getting stronger, I still cannot move. I can barely talk enough to greet them as they walk in. Sure, I can see that I’m still myself despite how I changed physically.

But my siblings are too young to see that; to them, I do not appeat to be the strong, big brother who helped raising three out of the four of them. And they try their best to hide it, by grabbing a chair and sitting down at the foot of my bed. My brothers try a smile as their eyes meet mine.

“Hey, Daichi,” my oldest brother says. He gives me an awkward smile. He turns to his younger half-brother and says, “Say “hi” to Daichi, buddy.”

The seven-year-old looks up at me and swallows thickly.

“Hey there,” I tell him, my voice running out a little already. I’ve already spoken so much today compared to yesterday. But what else can I do; they’re trying so hard to make it seem like these circumstances are normal. And even though I can tell by their eyes that they don’t see me the way they used to see me before the accident anymore- and while I’m afraid they never will, and that breaks my heart- the least I can do to stop them from getting scared of me, is act like I usually would.

Show them, I’m still me.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Kei Tsukishima
Sunday, 18:46

Left to right. Left to right. Left to right.

My wrist moves slowly as I repeat it to myself. Left to right. The ball at the point of my cane moves over a bump in the ground, something I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been following the simple instructions I’ve been given during my first training session a couple of days ago. Swipe left to right.

It’s really that easy, just one repetitive movement I have to make, yet it’s so easy to forget when you’re trying to walk and process everything that you’re feeling around you at the same time. Every uneven spot in the paved part of our small garden, every small bit of moss the ball catches on. Everything.

Walking in a straight line has proven itself to be difficult, especially on the more open grounds like this garden. We train in a big hall where some parts do have rippled surfaces to show you the way. Other parts don’t, which immediately proved my incapability to find my way around without clear directions.

The trainer gave me, along with everyone else, an assignment. During our next orientation and mobility meet we will be heading out to the outdoor training areas, but practicing in our own time is seriously recommended. “Use it to get around the house; it’ll help you get the hang of it sooner than later,” my O&M instructor told us. “Maybe go out for a walk every now and then too, to get a feel for the different surfaces.” We needed to feel pebbles, grass, pavement, not just smooth floors.

So, despite me wanting to be inside only rather than outside, I took the assignment to heart; the faster I get a hold of this, the faster I’ll be able to pick my normal life back up again. Of course, I used my cane inside a lot. I started trying to find my way to the bathroom without relying on the tape to guide me. I admit, I bumped into various things, especially during the first times practicing.

On top of that I went out walking for a bit each morning. I kept telling myself, for days, that it would be easy once I’d done it a couple of times. I mean, kids much younger than me learn to use a white cane, so I should be able to do it as well. But I was wrong. I soon found that it didn’t get easier off the initial training hall. With these different textures at the end of my cane, it’s harsh, hard work. It’s constantly dealing with your cane getting caught against uneven parts in the sidewalk and the handle poking you in the stomach. It’s waking up the next morning with severe pain in your wrist because you need to keep the cane in constant motion to know what’s going on in your surroundings.

It’s just frustratingly tough, so I don’t know how they teach kids to do this.

I also needed someone with me all the time, to make sure I don’t walk into streetlights or walk beside the sidewalk. On Akiteru’s days off, he went with me for a short walk. On most other days, mom headed out with me. And on Thursday, just as I was about to head out, Yamaguchi showed up on my doorstep again. He sounded hesitant as he asked me if he could join me on my walk, just like I was hesitant before I told him he was allowed to. It was really awkward at first, and hard too, having to hear him mention the others. But after a short while, it started to feel more like before. Yamaguchi turned out to be good at helping me find my way too, just like with everything else, he gave his everything, trying his best not to make any screw-ups. This was a nice breather after taking a few walks with Akiteru, who tends to let himself get distracted, which is not an amazing trait to have when guiding someone who cannot find their way on their own yet.

I would probably be able to go back to school again, if Yamaguchi would be there to guide me. But mom won’t allow me to go back again; tomorrow is the first day of my second year, but she thinks it’s too soon. I’ll most definitely miss first term, if I don’t miss much more, that is. At first I strongly disagreed with mom, but I realized sooner rather than later that I’m not even certain how I would be able to study like this. But despite my absence, and thus also my longer time away from my friends, I might call Yamaguchi again later this week, to see if he has time to go for a walk with me again.

Beside the daily things like taking walks to stay in shape and getting around the house, I give myself daily tasks. Small objectives to keep myself on my toes; I would do it volleyball too, during practice or at home. It keeps me concentrated, even when I actually am not feeling like it, like I noticed was happening with cane practice sooner than I’d liked. I was covered in bruises because I kept ramming into things, because I failed to swing the cane out far enough. I didn’t want to keep practicing.

So, I started giving myself daily objectives. Today’s task being a tough one. As mom’s cooking dinner inside, I kindly offered to take out the peels of the greens and the shells of the eggs to our garbage disposal at the back the garden. Akiteru asked me if I needed a hand, because up till now, I only went for walk with someone to guide me nearby. But I told him I could do this all on my own, I was certain. I was positive that if I’d try my hardest I’d find the garbage can without any help.

But as the tip of my cane moves from paved ground to the grass, it feels like I’m running to block a winning ball from the opponent. One wrong move, one wrong placement of my foot, and I could lose. In this case, wouldn’t be losing the match, but I would be at a loss. One misstep and I could be completely off-direction; I might never find the garbage that way.

Left to right. That’s all I need to remember.

I take a step with my left foot with my cane on the right, followed by a step with the right when it’s swinging to my left. Slowly build up the pace, until I’m not moving slower than a snail anymore. That’s all I’ll have to do. Walk in a straight line. Easier said than done, when the uneven grass embodies one huge Hell of an opponent for me.

my cane is going to get caught in the weeds and there’s a big chance I’ll lose track of where I’m going. I’m entering an overgrown forest at night. Or at least, that’s how it feels when my cane sinks into the high grass. I push forward through the nothingness that surrounds me. Has been surrounding me for days. I get caught and a sudden dizziness causes me to lose balance.

The plate, filled with of carrot peels and unused bits of various herbs, tips over as I try to regain my balance. Everything falls onto the ground, covering my feet in trash. I crouch down to the floor and start gathering everything that’s lying at my feet.

It’s hard, peeling the bits of carrots out of the grass, and before I know it I’m just tearing out the grass in anger. Mud flies in my face, but I don’t care. I just shout at the grass, telling it to piss off with it’s annoying uneven surface. Grumbling curse words as I pull the grass out with roots and all, forever ending this thing that’s making easy tasks feel like a living Hell.

“Kei!” a voice shouts from the other side of the garden. I wish it was further away, because going from as close as it sounds, I wasn’t even close to reaching the garbage can at all. “Shit, are you alright?” Two hands pull me up from the floor by my shoulders. It’s Akiteru. “Did you hurt yourself.”

I shrug him off. Grumbling, “I did not.” I back away from him a little, telling him I just tripped.

I sit up and knock the mud off my pants.

I stare at the nothingness in front of me. It’s not really helping keeping myself positive. I gave myself exactly one week to wrap my head around the fact that I am, and probably will be forever, blind. But once that week ended, I spend each day trying my best, each and every day, I try to do everything like I normally would. But I can’t anymore. It annoys the crap out of me.

“I need eyes,” I grumble. I do, I really need working eyes. Preferably my own, but that’s not going to happen anytime soon, Akiteru also carefully reminds me of that.

“I know,” I snap at him. My voice goes lower, less loud, when I tell him that this white cane just isn’t working for me. “I need some treatment or something-“ I know dead-well that there isn’t any treatment, Dr Uchida gave me the best shot at regaining my vision, and it failed. I’m blind. But there must be something to help to get me around. I think back to something mom mentioned a couple of days ago, something that might be an option if I really cannot get used to the cane. Back at the time I shrugged it off; I’ve been a natural at learning things all my life, so I doubted this would be a problem. But it is. Maybe I will follow mom up on her offer after all. It wouldn’t be as cheap as the white cane, and I would still need to wait months, maybe even a year or so, before I can actually make use of it. But it could work for me. Actually, I’m certain it would work for me.

“You know what I need?” I ask Akiteru.

“A big hug from your amazing brother?” he guesses.

“No. Yikes.” I fold my arms and shaky my head. “No, what I need are actual, working eyes.”

“We already established that, hadn’t we?”

I roll my eyes, another wave of dizziness washes through me. I try to ignore it as I speak, explaining Akiteru what mom explained to me a couple of days ago. “There’s this organization called JGDA-“ Or I think that’s what mom called it. “Mom said that if I couldn’t get a hang of the cane, she would make sure to get me into that program.” I reach up to straighten my glasses, but I realize halfway through the gesture they aren’t there. I lower my hand and take a deep breath. “I think, what I need is a guide dog.” I nod to myself, that must be it. That must be my road to healing.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Shouyou Hinata
Monday, 08:30

A miracle. A legend. A survivor.

That’s how people look at me when I walk onto school grounds on the first day as a second-year. Staring at me as I get dropped off in front of the school gates, walking towards my group of friends slowly, using a crutch. Yamaguchi, Tanaka and Yachi are already waiting. For a second, I expect Kiyoko and Asahi to be there too, because they did go to school before Spring break. I’m soon reminded that they’re not in high school anymore. From what I’ve heard the both of them are taking a gap year when it comes to school; Asahi needs some time to wrap his head around what happened. Kiyoko’s apparently at a job interview as we speak, if I’m to believe Tanaka. She apparently needs the money.

Once I reach Yamaguchi, Yachi and Tanaka, we give each other a brief group hug. We saw each other not so long ago in real life, and even shorter ago on the phone, but it’s our silent way of saying that we’re in this together. We don’t have to start this year all on our own, though it might feel that way. Especially for Tanaka, it’ll be a lonelier year; he’ll have Ennoshita, Narita and Kinoshita, they are still friends. But we all know that that’s different; he won’t have anyone there who’s been through the same as us. He probably would’ve preferred it if Nishinoya had also started school already today, but Nishinoya will probably miss the first semester because of rehabilitation. Same goes for Kageyama. And according to Yamaguchi, Tsukishima’s also going to start his second year later than usual.

We break up the hug and greet each other. As we’re doing so, people stare, like we’re naked or something. We’re not. Of course the second- and third-years know who I am. They know who we are, as a team, and they all know what we’ve gone through. But even the new kids who’re just here for the first day are staring at us as we walk into the school as a group. Even they know who we are.

“This is so strange,” I admit to Yachi, who’s walking beside me. “It’s like we’re- I don’t know, popular?”

Yachi lets out a nervous chuckles. “I know, I had hoped that would get less with the new year, but-“

It suddenly strikes me that Yachi, Kiyoko, Tanaka, Yamaguchi and Asahi already had to go through this at the end of last year. They had to walk these hallways when everything was still fresh, when stories about what happened to us were still broadcasted on the news almost every evening.

Fortunately the news articles settled down a little now that over a month has passed since the accident, because while it was fun at first, it started to get worse overtime. Each time I turned on the TV, I immediately had to switch to a channel where they weren’t broadcasting the news, because I knew we would be in there. We would be, yet again, reminded of what we had gone through.

After the news items about us stopped, though, I stopped thinking about all the thousands of other people that had seen them. Everyone, especially the people in our city, know us. They know our faces, our names, they even know our injuries. They know every detail of what we’ve gone through.

That’s honestly not the first thing I thought about when thinking about going back to school. The first thing I thought about was finally being able to see people on a daily basis again; I have missed that after all. And of course I was also thinking about the physical exhaustion it would bring me when climbing stairs, and about how I was going to get my dialysis rounds in outside of my long schooldays. Not about the hundreds of people that were going to stare at me in the hallways of the school.

“How did you guys deal with this last year?”

“Asahi and Kiyoko ignored them,” Yamaguchi tells me. He explains that he tried ignoring them as well, but did have a hard time doing so. “They’re really not subtle when it comes to the stares.”

Yachi just asked her teachers if she could sit all the way in the back. That way the people that wanted to get a look at one of the surviving Karasuno Volleyball players they had to turn around in their seat; this would be noticably for any teacher, so less people would stare that way. She paid attention in her classes and didn’t pay much attention to the people who were staring at her in the hallway.

Tanaka shows up behind me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder so he can whisper in my ear without anyone else hearing. “I like to turn it into a game,” he tells me.

“Really?” I whisper back. “How so?”

“Each time I catch someone staring at me, I stare back.” A snicker escapes from my mouth. “I count the seconds until they look away and tally them down.” He pauses, there’s a grin to be heard in his voice when he says, “In the final weeks of last year, I managed to get about six-hundred sixty seconds. Which is not really a lot, but it’s strange that it happened so often.”

“Whoa-“ I nod. “Yeah, it is! That’s so cool, though!”

He nods proudly. “You should do it too, upperclassman’s order.” He pats me on the shoulder before letting go of me. We part ways when we reach the staircases, because Tanaka has classes downstairs, while Yamaguchi and I have our first period upstairs. Yachi also heads upstairs with us, because even though she’s not in the same class as us, her classroom is beside ours.

“Good luck, you guys!” Tanaka tells us, his expression filled with sympathy for us. “Try to survive.”

Survive!?  I gulp. Are people really that intense?

“You too!” Yachi replies, she doesn’t sound nervous. Or at least, not more nervous than usual, which is probably a good sign. Maybe it won’t be as bad as Tanaka is making it sound.

“Will do!” Tanaka salutes our way before tucking his hands in his pockets and disappearing in the crowd of people heading to their class.

We head up the stairs and I immediately regret not going to the main desk to ask for the elevator key. They would probably give it to me, seeing my situation, but I didn’t want to be that weak kid that couldn’t even climb the stairs. Plus, the people who take the elevators always come to class late, because there’s only one elevator and a couple of people who need to use it; people who sprained an ankle or broke a bone over Spring break for instance, or people like me, who’re healing from something major and just don’t have the energy for it yet.

Even though we’ve climbed only one set of stairs, and there’s another more to go, I’m already out of breath. I’m completely supporting on my crutch on one side and the banister of the staircase.

I take a step. The backs of my legs are starting to cramp. I need to sit down.

As soon as we reach the first floor, I duck away from the crowd in a corner. Leaning against the wall to catch my breath. My lungs whine and my muscles feel like they’re tearing, that’s how hard they sting.

“Hinata!” Yachi’s voice sounds worried. It barely reaches me through the murmurs of the students that walk past me. “Yamaguchi, wait up! I think something’s wrong with Hinata!”

Together, they come rushing back to me, against the direction of the crowd. As soon as they reach me, Yachi’s hands wrap around my shoulders, she shakes me gently. “Are you feeling alright?”

“He’s so pale.”

“I’m good-“ I feel like I’m going to pass out. “Just really out of shape.” Probably suffering from anemia or low blood pressure again as well, mom had warned me that was probably going to make me dizzy for a little once I started doing more again. In the past days, I’ve mainly been lying around after all, even during my days in Tokyo; it’s been sitting and lying, maybe walking a small bit, for the most part.

But today’s not like that. These stairs are killing me- not literally of course! But it does suck.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Yachi double-checks.

I nod, and I swear it’s not a lie. “Just need a second to catch my breath.” I try to take a slow breath, but it’s like my lungs are forcing me to breathe faster with every minute that passes. “You go on without me,” I tell Yamaguchi and Yachi in between gasps for breaths. “I’ll catch up to you.”

“No, you won’t,” Yamaguchi immediately tells me. He’s right, I’m never going to catch up to them. “And we won’t leave you,” Yachi adds straight away.

“But-“ I look up at the next set of stairs, already feeling sick to my stomach. I know I might be able to reach the top of the next flight of stairs before our class starts, but our classroom is all the way at the end of the hallway, I’m never going to make that in time. They shouldn’t stick with me. “-you’re going to be late for class,” I remind them. Usually I wouldn’t care, but it is our first day.

“Who cares?” Yamaguchi says, shrugging.

“Yeah, who cares?” Yachi agrees, even though I can see fear in her eyes; she doesn’t strike me as the kind of person that ever showed up to class late. Unlike Yamaguchi and me, this will be a first for her. “We’re your friends, we’re not just leaving you.”

I straighten my back and force air into my lungs. “Are you sure?”

Yachi nods determinedly. “Yes.” She’s serious about this, and so is Yamaguchi. They take their stance beside me, waiting as I’m catching my breath. And once I’m not completely out of breath anymore, they walk by me, slowly helping me up the stairs. Yamaguchi’s hand’s on my back and Yachi’s arm wrapped around mine to support me better than a banister ever could.

As we’re half way up the second set of stairs, I hear the school bell ringing, announcing that we need to be in class now. The lessons are going to start, we’re officially missing things now.

But it’s like they don’t even hear it. They keep saying encouraging words, helping me get up the stairs. And when we reach the top, they cheer for me like I just delivered the winning spike in a match.

“Aren’t you kids supposed to be in class?” a voice sounds from behind us. It’s strangely familiar, even more familiar than the voices of regular teachers we had to listen to for hours in a row.

Simultaneously, we turn around to the stairs we just climbed, to see someone climbing them as well. He’s just about as slow moving as we were, sweat glistens on his forehead. For a teacher, he is dressed pretty sloppily; his hair is curly and stands in all directions, his tie is tied wrong and he’s wearing the world’s lamest glasses.

“Mister Takeda!” I smile wide and wave at said teacher. I haven’t seen Takeda in quite a while, and I admit that he looks like he hasn’t slept in ages. There are dark circles underneath his eyes, but maybe those will get a little less once he drinks more of the cup of coffee in his hand.

“Hinata, Yachi and Yamaguchi,” he replies, while climbing up the last few steps. “What a pleasure to see the three of you today. Are you all ready for your first day as second-year students?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” I reply, because I don’t know if I can say “yes” already. Mom asked me the same yesterday and I told her “Heck yes!”, I was all ready, but after my encounter with the stares and stairs, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll end up “accidentally” missing a couple of classes. I’m not telling that to a teacher though, even if said teacher went through the same thing as me. “Are you?” I ask Takeda.

He takes a slow breath. “Well-“ He shrugs.

“Wait, don’t we also have contemporary Japanese literature class later today?” I ask Yamaguchi. When he nods, I turn back to Takeda. “We’ll see you then, right?”

Takeda’s eyes awkwardly shift away from us. He shakes his head. “Not quite, uh- I’m not allow-“ He clears his throat before quickly changing his sentence to, “I’m just really busy with paperwork and answering e-mails, you know, boring adult-stuff in the office.” His expression saddens for a second, but he’s clearly trying his best to sound happy for us when he says, “But I heard miss Sasaki will be taking over that class from me for the time-being.” When he realizes that we have no clue who miss Sasaki is, because we only ever had him for Japanese literature, he promises us that she’s great.

“That’s good, I think.” I pause. “It’s a bummer, though,” I admit. Partially because I would’ve liked it better if the class would be completely cancelled, because I hate reading, but also because of the sadness on Takeda’s face. He always smiles when he’s teaching, he obviously enjoys it. And now he’s stuck in the office all day? That’s just not cool. “I bet she won’t be as good as a teacher as you.”

A sad smile forms on Takeda’s face as he thanks me. His gaze drifts away from us, to the empty hallway stretching out around us. “Anyway-“ He clears his throat. “-I have to get back to my office work, and you kids have to get to class.” He waves with his empty hand in the direction of our classroom. “Shoo, you’ll be late and it’ll be my fault.”

“We’re already late, sir,” Yachi announces.

“I know, just- I don’t want you missing too much of class.” He walks past us, towards the stairs, since his office is on the next floor. Before he disappears around the corner, I tell him good luck, because his job today sounds really boring. That, and he looks pretty worn out.

He turns around to us, smiling gently. “Thank you, Hinata. You too.” With those words, he disappears.

We follow his example and hurry to class. In the end, Yamaguchi and I walk into the class almost a full ten minutes too late. Our teacher, who also will be our student mentor this year, isn’t too happy with two students walking into class during his introduction. But as soon as he lays eyes on me, his voice falters. “Oh, it is you two.” He eyes my crutch, his expression softens. “Just quietly take a seat, please.”

It’s really weird, not getting a lecture when showing up to class late. It’s also really weird to have everyone’s eyes following Yamaguchi and me as we make our way from the door towards the two final empty desks. They’re all the way at the front, since no one wants to sit there. I especially don’t want to sit there; it’s right in the sight of the teachers and, maybe even more than that, it’s the one place where everyone can stare at me. I can feel their eyes in my back, I can feel their questions burning.

Yet, no one speaks to me. There’s a certain distance between me and the rest of the world now.

And while I love being back at school, I kind of really hate that distance.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Daichi Sawamura
Sunday, 15:31

The laughter of children fills my hospital bedroom, and I admit, it’s starting to feel a little like home. There’s my bed, my comfy wheelchair and on weekend days like this, my family’s here too.

Last week, I strongly disagreed to my siblings being there. Once mom had sent them to the hospital’s garden to play a little bit, I had some time to talk with her about it. It felt too soon, not just for me, but also for my siblings. Mom explained that they really wanted to come; in the week that she’d been home, she had laid my youngest siblings to bed crying each evening, wanting me to be there. It’s strange to realize this, since I only ever saw myself as their older brother, but especially to my three-year-old half-sister I’m the closest she has to a father figure. I helped raising her and my half-brother.

It’s different for my actual brother and sister, since I was too young myself when our dad left mom. I never raised them, but I’ve always been present in their lives; I help my twelve-year-old brother with homework and I stimulate my fourteen-year-old sister to help me whenever I help out mom.

They missed me.

And now that I was talking again, and not actively dying anymore, mom decided that it was time to grant their wishes; she couldn’t keep them away from me any longer.

So, instead of asking her to leave, I invited them to come by again the next day, but only if mom kept herself to the following deal; she would try to make it all as normal as possible. I knew this would be hard for her, because just like me she’s still adjusting to these circumstances I’m in. But I also knew that if she wouldn’t act on edge about all of this, and make it seem like a normal thing – because it will be the new normal for me – that at least the younger kids would go along with it fully.

That’s what she did. On Sunday, we went for a walk, and not once did she scold my half-brother about being too wild around me, or my half-sister for trying to sit on my lap, like she had on Saturday. I could tell that she was having a hard time not constantly telling them to be careful with me, but she took our deal to heart. “I am eighteen and I can speak-” is what I told her. “-when they cross my boundaries, I’ll tell them myself.” She looked at me like she didn’t believe me, like she was afraid I wouldn’t be fast enough scolding them when needed; during that small sentence, I kept getting out of breath every few words. And maybe she was right, but I was not going to let her say that out loud; I gave her an option, and she said “yes” to the deal.

It was officially the best choice ever made. Because the next day, after the walk, the younger three watched a movie with me. The two youngest were allowed in my bed, because I said so, and my twelve-year-old brother had claimed my wheelchair to be his.

My sister kept her distance, and somewhere during the movie she walked off. Mom followed her. They didn’t come back until the very end of their visit, telling us they had already gotten the car ready for leave. There was loud whining and my half-sister had to be carried out kicking, crying and screaming that she didn’t want to leave anymore. In the end, I looked back on my weekend off-practice with fond memories and was happy to hear that mom planned on coming to Tokyo again for this weekend.

During the week, I obviously spend a lot of time in physical therapy again, so time has flown by. Before I knew it, there was a knock on the door and the whole room was filled up with life and laughter again.

That was yesterday, and the day flew by so quickly that I barely even believe that they’re going home again in two hours; they’re leaving early, since they have school tomorrow.

It’s absurd to believe that my brother’s a first-year in middle school now, and my sister’s starting her graduation-year now. Just as it’s absurd to realize that I have officially graduated from high school now. If I hadn’t been hospitalized, I probably would’ve started working now and it would’ve been such a new experience; I’ve never had a job before, school wouldn’t allow it.

Now I’m not sure if I’ll ever have a job.

I try not to think about it too much, though. I try to live in the here and now, because that is what I have; here, I have four wonderful siblings and a loving mom who are now playing a game with me. It was Dr Kikuchi’s advice to maybe involve my siblings with my healing process; they get to see me in action, see how much I improve overtime, and it’ll be a fun way to practice my fine motor skills while also enjoying some quality time with my family. Especially now I’m able to do that again.

Usually during my hours of physical therapy, now that we’re not just doing passive physical therapy like stretches anymore, Dr Kikuchi helps me perform all sorts of things to make me less dependable of others. When we’re in the big gym, we’ll focus on my gross motor skills. And in the smaller office-like rooms, we’ll focus on getting my hands and fingers back to moving like they used to.

I admit it was shocking during the first sessions how much my hands shook when I was trying to do something. My fingers seemed to have a mind of their own and refused to grab things when I wanted them to. But overtime, I managed to start picking up smaller objects and do things like throw a dice or twirl a pen on the table with my right hand. Sure, not everything goes flawlessly, since my shoulders are still really stiff and therefore my hands move really clumsily, but my right hand is slowly getting the hang of it. My left hand’s a bit behind, since it starts shaking a lot when I try to move it. Same goes for my legs. It’s annoying, but like I’ve seen with my right hand, enough practice will make everything go smoother overtime.

To keep up with the practice over the weekends, Dr Kikuchi gave me an assignment. But he didn’t want me to do things we’d normally do in physical therapy, which mostly focussed on getting me back to doing things I’d have to do on a daily basis; picking up knives, pens and using them. “Family moments are not about self-sufficiency,” he told me. “So, why don’t you play a game like Operation, Jenga or Connect 4 with your younger siblings?” He warned me that it would probably be a bit harder than the things we practiced during physical therapy, but it would be a good challenge.

He knows by now that I won’t avoid challenges; I’m a trained high school volleyball captain after all, I’m used to working hard, and that’s where Dr Kikuchi and I get along. He likes it when someone gives their all, since it’s a big part of the healing process, and I tend to give everything my all.

So, here I am, gathered around my overbed table with my siblings. The youngest on my lap, my two brothers sitting on the very foot of my bed and my mom and sister sitting with a chair on either side of the table. On top of the overbed table is what must be one of my favorite games to play with my younger siblings; Jenga. Only this time the much bigger version, to make it easier on both me and my youngest sister. Usually I’d be her side-kick, carefully maneuvering the pieces out on her order.

This time, she’s on her own, since I am officially not the king of Jenga anymore. And I want a fair battle.

“Got one!” my youngest brother says, pride on his face as he shows off the piece he just got.

“Good job, bud!” I tell him, smiling back at him. He’s already gotten three pieces out from the tower, and looking at the tower that’s slowly growing higher and higher, it must’ve been pretty hard to get this one.

Next is my sister, who’s probably the best at the game if you don’t count me. She’s the least motivated too, though. Unlike the others, she doesn’t celebrate her victory when she maneuvers a piece out of a pretty tough spot. Instead, she just silently places it on top of the tower and sits back down in silence.

She’s usually not like this; she loves trying to beat everyone at games, and it looks like she’s not going to be the one to let the tower fall anytime soon. But she’s not celebrating. She looks like she’s sitting through a funeral rather than playing a fun game with her mom and siblings.

But then again, it doesn’t surprise me. Last week and yesterday, she was the only one who remained really distant towards me. Every now and then she would whip out her phone, like she didn’t even want to be here. I wish I could say I think it’s because she has a lover back in Miyagi, but I doubt it. What I really think is that she’s afraid of me. Nervous to be near me when I look different from how I used to be, but I haven’t found a moment to ask her, since I don’t want to confront her about it when everyone is here. It would only end up making a scene if I don’t find the right moment for it.

After my sister sits down in silence again, it’s my turn.

Despite my love for Jenga, I feel my heart racing each time it’s my turn.

In complete silence, I investigate the tower; there are a lot of pieces missing already. Everywhere I try will be tough, that’s the fun of the game. I find one piece pretty close to me. It’s on the outside, if I take it out the tower would only be balancing on one stone on that level. It’ll be tricky, but I’ll try.

It takes all my concentration and focus to even lift my arm up. My shoulder whines as I reach out with my hand. It’s been sore the entire time, but I’m used to that by now. My hand shakes a little, and my fingers twitch, like they do almost constantly if I’m not wearing my braces. I let nurse Benjiro take them off earlier today because I knew we would be playing games, but I might want to put them back on again in a little. I can tell that my muscles inside my hand are starting to pull again, which could lead to my hands balling into tight fists, accompanied by the worst cramps, if I don’t put my braces back on in time. I’ll ask mom to help me put them back on once this game is finished, probably.

I reach out and take hold of the piece. I pull and pull and try to keep my fingers from twitching. The concentration causes my tongue to stick out of my mouth a little. My breathing labored as I don’t want to move too much. I almost got it.

But then a shock of energy rushes through my entire arm, causing my arm to jerk.

The wooden tower crumbles around my hand, leaving only the piece I’ve got in my hand to be the only one that hasn’t tumbled to the ground. Normally I would laugh despite the sting of losing, smile and say I made a mistake, but not now. I clench the piece in my hand and barely find myself able to swallow the curse words that sit on my tongue. My face feels warm. My blood is pulsing.

I didn’t make a mistake, this is just my stupid brain failing to control this stupid broken body.

Even before the wooden piece leaves my hand and flies through the room, hitting the wall across from us, I already wish I could wind back time. I should’ve known this was going to happen, I should’ve braced myself. I don’t want to freak out around my family like I do all the time during physical therapy. But whenever I’m doing this well, and something like this happens, I’ll just get so mad. Not at the people around me, not even at myself really, but at my body. At my brain for being damaged.

While I try to keep an optimistic look on everything, and I am able to do so most of the time, these are the moments where my patience is being challenged. Where my frustration sometimes gets the best of me. Often times, this short burst of anger is followed by a wave of sadness.

Today is no different. Before I realize what’s happening, cold, silent tears track down my cheeks.

Everyone’s staring at me. Big eyes. Some filled with shock, some filled with tears.

I swallow audibly. “S-Sorry.” My eyes glance away. I can’t look them in the eye after bursting like that.

There’s some movement on top of my lap, causing my muscles to tense up a bit. Followed by that are two hands with ten little fingers stroking on my cheeks.

I look down to see my little sister’s smiling face. I’m not sure if she gets what’s going on, but there sure is sympathy in her eyes when she looks me in the eyes and says, “Don’t cry, Daichi.” She takes her fingers past my cheeks and wipes away my tears, or rather, smears them all over my entire face. “You don’t have to cry because you lost. Shake it off, it’s just a game,” she promises me, just like I promised her each time she tried her hand at a game and lost from her four older siblings. “We’re just going to play again.” She gives me a determined nod. “So you can win next time then.”

A small smile makes its way onto my face. I carefully lift up my hand from the blanket, just high enough that I can put in on her head. I tousle her hair and watch her smile grow as I tell her, “That’s the spirit, short stuff.” I look up at the rest of my siblings and my mom. “So, who’s in for another game?” I glance at the wooden Jenga pieces that are scattered all over the place and wince. That’s going to take them ages to put back up again. And I feel like playing something less intense right now. “But, uh- no Jenga, please.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

The oldest sister “Kid” Sawamura
Sunday, 17:00

My eyes stare at the clock as the minutes pass by. Only half an hour longer before we head back to Miyagi. Only thirty more minutes of this Hell.

Mom happily announced the news on Friday; we would be heading up to Tokyo again to visit Daichi, just like we’d done the week before. After not sleeping well on the Monday and Tuesday following our previous visit, my stomach immediately turned. I didn’t know if I could see him like that again.

I kept remembering the things about him that frightened me. My mind replaying images of the way his smile looked nothing like the smile he used to have before, how that thing in his throat made me feel really squeamish especially when it gurgled a little as he breathed in, and of the ways his arms and legs were surrounded by large plastic braces, making him look like he was broken all over. I also vividly remember the big scarring line that swirled over the shaved side of his head.

It all just looked very unsettling, especially when accompanied by the white hospital walls and that typical smell of antiseptics. It just felt eerie. So much even that I could only cry when we got home last week. But I told myself that it was my fault for agreeing to coming along. I knew dead-well I was never been a fan of hospitals, yet when mom asked us last week, if we wanted to visit our brother in the hospital, I immediately said “yes”, maybe the loudest of all four of us. I missed my older brother, really. I still do, just in a different way. Daichi’s just always been a constant factor in my life and while I didn’t think I’d miss his loud, stern ass bossing me around, I definitely do.

Over the past month, I really got respect for him. As the second oldest, I suddenly had to take over all his chores and was pretty responsible for the younger three. Sure, my closest brother is only two years younger than me, and he helped me out a little, but I was doing things alone for the most part. Except for cooking, because uncle Kaito, mom’s best friend, offered to cook dinner for us every day. And of course the neighbors always offered to help me when I didn’t quite know what to do.

I’m fourteen, I’m not used to being a parent to four younger kids, while also constantly worried about why my mom’s gone. Alright, maybe I wasn’t worried about why she was gone. I knew she headed to Tokyo really quickly when she suddenly got a call. She wasn’t crying, but I could tell that she was close to it. My siblings were already lying in bed, since it was already pretty late and dark outside.

“Daichi has been in a car accident.” She had told me when I asked her about the call, before she kissed me on the head and left me with few instructions. She told me to go to the neighbors or call uncle Kaito when anything felt off. But she hadn’t told me much more in that moment, because she didn’t know more.

So, the next day, also after my siblings had been put to bed by Kaito, before he went home, she called me again to finally tell me what was up. She told me about the accident he’d been in.

She was speaking slowly, that way I could understand her well. She explained to me that he had a pretty serious traumatic brain injury. That he was hospitalized and sleeping as of now. She couldn’t tell me when he would wake up. I could hear in her voice that things were very serious. I still remembered that tone from when she divorced my stepdad a little under three years ago, only now her voice was even more serious. I could tell that she was on the brink of crying, but I wasn’t.

It wasn’t until later, that I looked up traumatic brain injury, that I felt tears streaming over my cheeks.

As soon as I laid eyes on Daichi’s visible injuries, I knew I wouldn’t be able to look at Daichi anymore; the healing wound on his forehead and the surgery scars on the side of his head reminded me too much of what mom told me on the phone on the day following the call that’d made her leave.

They reminded me too much of what the articles I read all had said; his injury would result in long-term complications. And going from the way he was looking otherwise, I knew the articles were right about another thing; Daichi’s injury had also led to a really serious disability.

One where he can’t even move his hands and needs some special tube to breathe.

It just all shook me up for an entire week. I was glad I didn’t have many important classes straight away, because I haven’t been able to follow my first classes of my final year of middle school at all.

I wanted to stay home this week. I didn’t want to have to sit through another few hours of this, but it seemed I was the only one. On the second day of our time in Tokyo, last week, we first took a walk through the hospital’s garden. Daichi was in a wheelchair, which somehow make my stomach turn even more; only a couple of weeks ago, he was running around on a volleyball court and carrying his youngest siblings on his shoulders, and now he needed someone to push him in a wheelchair.

Yet, during the walk my two brothers warmed up to Daichi a bit. As soon as we got back to the hospital room, they didn’t stay with me on the other end of the room anymore, instead they sat closer to him; my half-brother and sister asking Daichi questions about everything that had changed. And my actual brother hushing them whenever any of his two younger siblings asked questions that were plain rude. Because they did. They’re young, they don’t have a filter.

Anyway, because of this day last week, they were pretty alright with heading back to Tokyo this weekend. Their enthusiasm is the reason why I’m here right now, sitting and watching from a distance as they’re all gathered around Daichi’s bed, playing what must be nearing the end of their game of quartets. They’ve been playing games a lot today. I even joined during a couple, but after Daichi got really frustrated during our game of Jenga earlier, I decided to take a step back. He now seems to enjoy it again, fortunately; he’s always been pretty intimidating when he gets frustrated, but somehow it’s even worse now. He’s smiling again, though, looking down at the cards my sister is holding for him. She’s like his card-holder, or side-kick as Daichi would call it, he’s the mastermind; he tells her which card to give or ask, and she does as he asks. He used to try it by himself at first, but he kept dropping the cards, plus he’s wearing those plastic things around his hands again now. So he promised my sister to help lead her to victory if she’d hold the cards for him.

And I watch from a distance, acting like I’m not hating the fact that I can’t just enjoy these moments we have with our older brother. I wish things would just go back to normal, but they won’t.

The sound of cheering sounds when the game comes to an end; the most sets of four were made by Daichi and my sister. It’s been the first game Daichi won today, probably because he wasn’t trying to push himself to do things he can’t anymore. He’s still pretty good at reading people, I guess.

“Kids, remember, we’re in a hospital, you should be a little quieter,” mom says, but she’s chuckling, so it sounds like she barely even wants them to be more silent. She’s enjoying herself, smiling a lot more than she did during our Spring break. I caught mom crying more than once during that time, she doesn’t do that as often now; she says it’s because Daichi’s healing. I don’t see what she means.

“Alright,” she mutters to herself, when my younger siblings don’t listen. “I see, you’re just overflowing with energy.” She rises to her feet and says, “I’m going to need that energy when I get the car ready for our leave-“ With that she basically means she’ll get Daichi’s new set of clothes we brought from home out the trunk, gather Daichi’s laundry of the past week and double check to see if we have everyone’s toys before we leave in a couple of minutes. It’s nothing special, and yet everyone jumps up and cheers when she asks, “Who wants to help me?”

They follow her to the door with a lot of loudness and commotion. My half-brother does make sure to ask mom if they’re coming back to say Daichi goodbye before we leave.

“Of course we will,” mom promises him. “We need to bring him his clothes, remember?”

As they leave the room, I’m about to follow them. I’m not interested in helping out with getting the car ready, but I’m even less interested in being alone with my big brother.

I freeze up before I’m able to leave, though.

“Hey, kiddo!” I close my eyes and roll them; that’s my big brother’s stupid nickname for me, even though I’m not even really a kid anymore; I’m fourteen, he’s ought to stop calling me that way. I turn around, hating myself for automatically reacting to the nickname I’ve kind of always disliked, because after being called that way for literally my entire life it’s become like a second name to me.

Daichi’s eyes are looking at me from across the room, his mouth is gently smiling on one side when he asks, “Could you come over here?” His voice sounds much hoarser and softer than it usually does; Daichi can’t get really loud after all. And he sounds like he’s out of breath almost the entire time.

“Uh-“ I glance at the door. At my hand around the door handle. “I was about to help mom so-“

“Mom has three good helpers,” he promises me. “I’m sure she can miss you for a little bit.” His voice is calm, careful, like he doesn’t want to scare me away. He nods towards his wheelchair, which stands right beside his bed. He takes a slow breath and says, “Come take a seat, I want to chat.”

I play with the strings of my summer dress, hesitating. With my eyes lowered to the floor, I walk to the other side of the room, closer to Daichi. Finally, I lower myself into the wheelchair; it’s big and daunting with its large wheels and buttons on the armrests, but it’s not uncomfortable. Fortunately.

“So, uh-“ I twist the string around my finger, before forcing myself to look up to him. Just for one second, my eyes meet my brother’s. They look the same as they used to before, it’s one of the few things about him that didn’t change. I try to ignore the way his mouth only smiles on one end and how his forehead is still red and cut, and only focus on keeping eye contact as I say, “What’s up?”

Daichi’s eyes smile, one a little more than the other. “So, you can still talk, huh?”

I glance away. “What’s that supposed to mean? Of course I can still ta-“

“You haven’t, otherwise.” His voice is a bit sterner now. He’s not angry, he’d be louder if he was. But he’s not too happy either. “So, I’m going to ask you: what’s up?”

I shrug. What can I say? That mom told me about his brain being hurt? That I read that he will be disabled for the rest of his life? That I’m scared of him? That won’t do him any good.

“Huh?” he asks after a silence.

I swallow thickly, trying to look up at him again. I fail. I look away. I always end up looking away when I’m too nervous to speak, but there’s not a single stammer in my voice when I tell him, “You really scared me.” I don’t want to hear his response. I don’t want to look up at him to see his smile falter.

The breathing-thing in his throat makes a sound just before his voice says, “Well, duh.”

My hands stop playing with the strings, I frown. Duh? Is that supposed to be a response?

“I would’ve been pretty scared too if I’d been in your place, you know?”

I scoff, almost silently. “Oh, would you?” I doubt he would; he’s always been the fearless one, after all.

“Yeah, I definitely would!” He takes a breath. “I mean, look at me. I survived a car crash, I look a mess.” He pauses, reaching out his braced hand towards me. Once it’s on top of mine, he says, “It’s okay to be scared. Scared about what happened. Scared of me. But just tell me, okay?” He pauses to take another breath. “I want to be able to take that fear away from you.”

Does he seriously want to make me feel better? After I ignored him? Told him he scares me? I look up, I see that he’s serious about this; he wants to comfort me. I don’t know why exactly I’m surprised, because that’s just how he is; he’s a tease, which can be terribly annoying if you have to put up with it for fourteen years, but he’s also been the caring oldest brother of four younger siblings. Despite him looking a little different when he lays there in a hospital bed, all wrapped up in plastic braces, but on the inside he’s that same caring big brother. He’s still the same brother who held his hands over my ears so I wouldn’t hear mom and dad fighting and dried me and my brother’s tears when they separated. And the same guy who got up extra early to make five bento-boxes in the morning on the days where mom worked late or early. Who would drop me off at school before heading to his own.

He’s always been there for us, doing these little things daily that we took for granted.

And what scares me is that we won’t have that anymore. His body won’t allow him to be that same big brother anymore, even though he is still like that on the inside. It’s like being trapped.

“I would be scared too,” I say. “If I was in your place, I mean.”

Daichi chuckles and nods. “Yeah, a scaredy-cat like you? You’d be absolutely terrified.” He winks.

And for the first time in forever, I find myself snickering at a teasing comment of his. He laughs along.

After our laughs fade, and I hear our siblings approaching in the hallway, I quickly ask, “Are you?” I look up at him. “Scared, I mean.”

My big brother’s mouth opens a little, he takes a second before saying, “Yeah, I’m scared as Hell.” But he’s smiling, smiling much wider than I think I would be able to do. “But it’s all a little less scary now because-” Our family barges in, and for a second I’m afraid I’m never going to find out what makes him a little less scary. I want to know, because I might need it too, to be a little less afraid.

Daichi turns to me and says, “-because the five of you are here to keep me company on this journey.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Miwa Kageyama
Monday, 10:09

“It’s time to go back to Miyagi.”

The news came like a relief to me.

Finally, they were going to let my little brother move to a rehabilitation centre closer to home. Finally, I wouldn’t have to be spending my nights sleeping in my car, because I can’t just spend the money I worked hard for on a motel when Tobio is going to need so many things in the future.

Physical therapy, even though we’re insured, costs money. So do the mobility aids; from what I looked up, a wheelchair isn’t cheap, neither are prosthetics; even the basic prosthetics already cost around 650,000 yen. Which is a lot when you consider I’m just a hairdresser and make-up artist; I do what I love, but it doesn’t earn us too much money. Still I don’t want to take the chance of walking away from Tobio again. So, I allowed myself exactly one night a week in one of the cheaper motels around so I could get a good night’s rest, but the other days I lived in my car.

The thought of being able to go home, sleep in my own bed, and start working again, made me so happy. I thought the same would go for Tobio, but there wasn’t even a ghost of a smile on his face.

When I asked him if he wasn’t happy about leaving, he just shrugged. He didn’t seem happy at all.

I didn’t think this would be the case, because ever since he’d seen himself in the mirror, he’s become more confident. He was really negative before, but when I visited him the day after they took off his bandages, he told me he was pleasantly surprised at how well everything was healing.

For the first time since the accident, he sounded hopeful.

That hopefulness isn’t gone, I think, but there’s a layer that’s on top of it now. A certain heartache that caused him to flinch when they told him he could go back to Miyagi yesterday evening.

After his final check-up today, he will be moving back to Miyagi. He’ll be closer to his friends, I think he’ll even be going to the same rehabilitation centre as one of them; a different department probably, but I think I’ve heard him mention the name of this specific centre before. And it’s one of the few ones that’s even close to Miyagi, so I guess it would make sense. Anyway, my point being, he can see his team again. He can start getting more mobile there, which I think should also be pretty exciting.

I had good faith that the excitement would come, once he let the good news sink in. Yet, when I walk into his room this morning to collect his stuff, he still doesn’t look like the excitement reached him.

He’s already been helped into a wheelchair and a blanket has been draped over his legs. There’s thin bandages wrapping around the areas of his skin that are still open, but most of his face and neck are out in the open. The skin on his right is between pink and red, the other half is ghostly pale. His eyes are glazed over, staring at something that isn’t there. He looks like he’s going to be sick.

“Is something wrong?” I ask him, worried that the doctors found something during his check up that would make him have to stay even longer. Something threatening.

Before my mind can start spiraling, Tobio shakes his head. “I’m all healthy,” he tells me, to my relief.

I let out a short sigh of relief. “Then why do you look like you’re about to throw up?” I ask him, while opening up the plastic bag I’m going to be using to gather his laundry, not that he has much laundry; he’s only worn the vests that were way too big and no T-shirt, sweatpants or socks.

Today is actually the first day he’s trying on sweatpants again, and I had to buy them three sizes too big so they wouldn’t scratch against his healing wounds too much. He would get too cold without them when outside and the wind against his wounds, despite the bandages around them, could hurt.

Tobio shrugs in response to my question. “Don’t know.”

It’s a lie. Tobio’s really hard to read, but he’s fortunately also really bad at lying; he knows exactly what’s making him feel this way. Otherwise he wouldn’t just say “don’t know”, he’d be more frustrated if he actually didn’t know. “Is it about heading into the car?” I guess.

He shakes his head. I can tell that he’s a bit nervous, but he’s not lying when he says, “That’s not it.”

“Is it about starting rehabilitation?”

He viciously shakes his head. “I’m really looking forward to it, actually.”

“Alright.” I smile and nod; that’s a good thing, at least. “Is it about going outside?”

He winces.

Bingo.

“You know you don’t have to be afraid of what the doctors said,” I say, referring to the conversation we had with Dr Haku yesterday. It was about needing to watch out with the sun, because his healing skin is still really sensitive and fragile. So, until his skin isn’t at all red anymore, in a year or two, Tobio should really avoid being in direct sunlight. I realize that Dr Haku was just warning him about wearing protection when going outside and not staying in the sun for longer than needed, but maybe Tobio didn’t fully understand that he can still go outside without immediately getting sunburn. “I bought you a hat and sunglasses, remember?” I already used up some of the money I had saved by sleeping in my car, but that doesn’t matter, since Dr Haku did make it clear that this is just something Tobio is going to need for a longer period of time. There will be more of those things in the future. It’s things like these why I didn’t spend the money on myself in the first place. “And they did help you put on sunscreen just now, right?”

He nods once. “Yes, but-“

“Then you’re all good! No sunlight will hurt you today,” I promise him.

He looks at me, opens his mouth and then looks away. “I know.” He pauses. “But that’s not it.”

“Hm?”

“I’m not afraid of the sun.”

“Then-“ I frown to myself. “What are you afraid of?”

He takes a slow breath, before carefully admitting, “I’m afraid of what people will think.” He glances at himself in the mirror, that he now has allowed to be in his room, so he can see himself healing. He seemed pretty confident lately, even after his reflection changed quite the bit. But now there’s an uncertainty in his eyes when he meets his reflection’s.

“But you already know what people think, right?” I ask him, knowing that Hinata told him his thoughts. I did too, admitting that while it was going to take some getting used to, I knew he would be able to wear his scars with pride. I knew that, with time, they’d become part of him. No one, not even Tobio himself, has said anything nasty about his injuries; everyone’s just happy to see how well it’s healing.

“You don’t get it,” he tells me, his voice not even snappy. It’s low and almost sad when he says, “You all knew me before this, but there are so many strangers on the street. All of these people will see me-“ His voice trails off, but I know exactly what he was going to say.

“You’re afraid what opinions they will form about you?”

He nods once. His eyes stare at the mirror, staring at himself, probably wondering about all the bad things people would think about him. He’s always been like that, always wanting to do everything perfect out of a fear of what people will think of him. He doesn’t like to show it to people, but as his sister, I’m well-aware of how self-conscious Tobio actually is underneath that self-assured act of his.

“Who cares.” I shrug, not because I don’t care, but because he shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t care about what people he doesn’t even know think of him. “Sure, people will always have opinions, they’re judgy like that. But as long as those opinions are coming from people you don’t know, it shouldn’t matter.” I walk up to Tobio and lay my hand on his head. “What really matters is what you think of yourself. So, try not to care about the people who just should stop being all judgmental, ‘kay?”

After those words, I carefully tousle his hair. It’s really weird doing so, now that one half has been completely burned off, but at least the other half is extra fluffy. I make a mental note that I need to cut him his hair when he gets home, maybe look with him for a haircut that looks super cool, making the bald scars on his head look like a part of the look. Maybe that will make him less self-conscious.

“And what if I do end up caring?” he asks me, probably because he knows deep down he will.

“Then you’ll just come to me.”

His eyebrow perks up. “To you?” He scoffs. “What are you going to do, fight them? You?” I hope he’s not referring to my small build, because I might have to fight him if that’s the case.

I roll my eyes. “No, I wouldn’t.” I lay eyes on his face, looking at the scars that are going to cover half of his face. I’ve seen people with scars in their faces before, people who were much more self-conscious about them than Tobio, coming to me for advice. Though I mostly help out as make-up artist on theatre sets and festivals, I have also worked away my fair share of scars with the help of some make-up. Maybe, just maybe, I would give Tobio that choice, if he really can’t find a way to love himself with his scars. But I don’t say that that’s an option now, because I know he would probably take it, and despite this being my job in any other case, I would rather not have him hiding part of him.

I just really hope that one day, despite the judgmental nature of people, he’ll be able to learn to love himself again. Ignore those people who stare and whisper behind his back.

And instead, wears his scars like they're trophies.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Tobio Kageyama
Tuesday, 07:00

I’ve heard seriously injured people say that everything in rehabilitation felt like learning how to walk again. Never did I realize that they actually meant it. Sure, I’d expected that for people literally learning how to walk again, it would feel that way. But after just one day at the rehabilitation centre, I’m starting to realize that everything, literally everything you do here feels like a lot.

Yesterday was my day of arrival, so we didn’t do much in terms of physical therapy. Dr Hiroto, the guy who’s about to be my physical therapist for the next months or so, did show up to my room. He introduced himself and took me through some small in-bed exercises. He explained that he mainly did this to see what I already could do in terms of something he called “active motion”, so he didn’t help me one bit. He told me to stop as soon as things started to hurt, not wanting to injure me.

I was a little underwhelmed, I admit, when he told me that was all we were going to do for the day. I’d expected having to work hard, all day every day, but my first day immediately was a day off.

“You need rest,” Dr Hiroto told me when I asked him why we hadn’t done that much. “You’ve had a long trip, and you’re going to need your energy tomorrow.” He promised we would start working much harder today, on my second day here, and he wasn’t kidding.

Dr Hiroto shows up at my room exactly seven in the morning, unlike the doctors in Tokyo’s hospital he’s pretty punctual, but maybe that’s because this rehabilitation centre is less than half the size of the hospitals and rehabilitation centers in big cities like Tokyo. It’s also later than the morning rounds at the hospital, but it’s still early. He gives me a full check-up, explaining that he needs to make sure that I’m up for physical therapy, and he gives me pain meds.

I’ve been swallowing pain meds multiple times a day, every day, since the accident, so I don’t even question it. But Dr Hiroto still kindly explains why he’s doing everything he’s doing, including giving me pain medication before we start therapy. “Pain is a really restraining factor when it comes to physical therapy in burn patients, like you. We don’t want you to be in pain, so we give you these.”

I nod once before swallowing the pill with a little sip of water.

I know that physical therapy probably still won’t be completely painless though, even with the painkillers; they also gave me painkillers before changing my bandages each morning and that still hurt like Hell. This probably won’t be much different.

After giving me those, he helps me get into my wheelchair. I cannot wait till I can do that myself, I hope it’s one of the first things he can teach me. I hate having to literally almost be carried over to the wheelchair. It makes me feel really small and dependant. Plus, it hurts a little too.

“Are you sitting well?” he asks me.

I nod. It’s hard to call it “well”, since the chair is made out of woven metal and, despite the pillow on top, pretty hard; these are the type of chairs they have here, ready for use, but Nishinoya already strongly advised I get myself a wheelchair of my own. One that’s accustomed to all my personal needs, rather than the standard hospital-wheelchair model. But I looked up wheelchairs and they’re on the expensive side; it’s going to take some time before we have the money together to buy one for real. Maybe I’ll just get prosthetics before then, if that’s possible, no one mentioned that option to me yet.

“Good.” Dr Hiroto rises to his feet and walks over to the small kitchen. The rooms here might be on the smaller side, but it’s got everything it should have; it has a small kitchen with cabinets on ground-level and a sink, a wheelchair-accessible bathroom and a bed with television. There’s enough space to get around with a wheelchair, once I’m able to do so by myself.

When I first arrived here, they explained that they had this for almost all rooms, making each little room look and feel like a small apartment. This is apparently because they don’t just want to make us, their patients, stronger by using long physical therapy sessions, but also want to make us self-sufficient by giving us our own space to navigate around and use with as little help as possible.

Out of one of the cabinets, he gets a big pot of lotion. I didn’t even know that was there, but it seems these kitchen cabinets are filled with medical supplies rather than mugs and plates like you’d expect.

He puts the pot down on the bedside table and unscrews the cap.

“I’ll be very careful,” he tells me as he’s spreading the lotion over his gloved hands. “But just give a shout if I do anything that hurts you, okay?”

I nod, but as soon as he applies the lotion to my burned skin, I wince nevertheless, afraid it’s going to hurt a lot. But it doesn’t. It’s just very cold and greasy. He’s careful and makes sure he only smears it on the parts of my skin that are already healed enough that the lotion won’t get into my open wounds; he skips past the healing skin graft on my arm and leg, for instance. He does also take off this sort of really tight sock, called a shrinker, I have around what’s left of my left leg, so he can put the lotion on it. When he’s doing that, it feels really weird; they’ve been doing it since they removed the sutures, about a month after the accident, because I was complaining about this intense pain I felt almost every night. It woke me up, my leg throbbing and stinging, while I knew nothing was even there. They said the massaging would help with that, but it’s a strange sensation whenever they do it. Each time he wraps his hands around it and massages gently, it feels like the bottom of my leg and the top of my leg are being touched at once, every time he’s near the scar where it all comes together. It’s really weird and tickly.

“There, that’s all done, He looks up to me and asks, “Would you like to try moisturizing your own hand?” He’s referring to my right hand, which I haven’t dared to touch yet. Looking at it still freaks me out a little, even more so than the scars that reach all over the right side of my body, the missing fingers and red scars just past my knuckles still scare me. Up to now, I’ve always told my nurses I would rather not touch it, but now I’m at a rehabilitation centre and that means it’s time for crossing my boundaries.

“Uh-“ I swallow thickly. “Alright. Yes.”

Dr Hiroto helps me put a glove over my left hand, so I don’t get any bacteria near my wounds, and holds out the pot of lotion. I take a scoop of the white lotion and try to rub the glob out a little, which is hard when you’re just using one hand. After that, I carefully move my left hand to my right one.

I take slow breaths as I carefully hover with my fingers above the amputation site.

I wince when I finally put down my hand. The cold of the lotion spreads over my hand, but other than that, the entire top of my hand remains tingly at most. There’s no pain like with my leg, nor are there any absurd sensations. It’s just numb, small pins and needles as I gently rub the lotion onto it, but nothing more. My doctors told me that that was because of nerve damage; they obviously tried to avoid damaging nerves as much as they possibly could while amputating my fingers, but with the many many nerves that run through my hand it wasn’t strange that they did damage quite a few. For now, that means my hand’s just completely numb at the end, and while some sensation might come back over time, it’s likely that I probably won’t feel things the same way I did when I still had fingers.

I’m careful when massaging it anyway, because I don’t want to test fate.

Once the lotion has been spread out properly, I pull away my left hand. There’s a moment of shock when I realize what I just did, without really thinking about it; I just touched my hand. I just did something the me of a couple of weeks ago wouldn’t have even dared to think of, Hell, up to about two weeks ago I demanded to have the bandages around it all the time, because I couldn’t even stand the sight of it. Now, I’m touching it. It’s a huge step, if you ask me.

“There, that’s all done,” he announces once I’m done massaging my hand, and he’s done putting cream on my shoulder and neck. “That should help your skin be a little less dry and tight as we start physical therapy.” He smiles gently, pausing for a small moment before he asks, “Are you ready?”

I try not to hesitate before I say, “Hell yes.” It still comes out sounding a little half-assed, I admit. But as long as I know that I am actually pretty excited for this, it’s good enough. Right?

There’s this spike in my adrenaline as we’re heading towards the gym. There’s just a rush of excitement that I haven’t felt since our previous volleyball match, which seriously feels like lifetimes ago. By the time we reach the actual gym, and I lay eyes on the mats and devices, I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. Now, unlike earlier, every fiber of my being is screaming “Hell yes!” to physical therapy.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Shouyou Hinata
Tuesday, 16:30

“Next stop, rehabilitation centre, Miyagi Prefecture,” the voice through the bus’s speakers tells me, announcing that we’ll be arriving at the rehabilitation centre where Kageyama’s staying, in a minute or two. I wasn’t planning of going there already, since it’s only his first full day there, but he called me this afternoon ordering me to drop by. He didn’t want to tell why, but it sounded like he just needed some company.

I hope he asked if he could have visitors, because Nishinoya says they prefer if he only has non-family visitors during the weekends. But we’ll see, in a worst case scenario, I’m send away.

So, despite my plans to just sit at home and do a round of dialysis before dinner, I got on the bus right after my day at school ended. I’ll have to be home in time for dinner, so in about an hour and a half, but I had more than enough time to drop by Kageyama to see how he’s feeling about rehabilitation.

There’s a loud ping sound when I press the red “stop” button once I see my bus stop in the distance.

My legs whine from exhaustion when I push myself up from my seat. The people standing in the walkway move for me, literally pressing into each other not to be in my way. I’ve seen people do it for older people all the time, and I do it too when there’s someone who needs a bit more space. Never have other passengers moved out of the way for me, though. Carrying a crutch with me is like having a new super power unlocked; suddenly people want to help me and not be in my way. It’s cool, but also pretty awkward.

“Don’t forget to check out,” a voice reminds me over the speakers, just like she’s done with each stop.

I check out and leave the bus, making sure not to jump off the little step too rough.

At a slow, but steady pace, I start walking towards the big – but not as big as the Tokyo Hospital – building on the other side of the street. A backpack on my back, weighing me down, and a volleyball carefully squeezed under my arm that isn’t holding the crutch. I admit, I stole it from school, but what else was I supposed to do when Kageyama suddenly asked me to bring it? I have one at home, but it’s not like I had time to go home before going to the rehabilitation centre. I’ll bring it back, tomorrow.

Not a single part of me is nervous as I walk inside; I used to be nervous when I visited Kageyama in Tokyo, I admit. I never knew in what kind of mood he would be, he has had a lot of dark days when he was still in the hospital. But despite his voice sounding a bit down when he called me this afternoon, I doubt he’ll ever feel so down again as he did when he was still hospitalized in Tokyo.

So, I’m not one bit nervous as I ask one of the nurses where I can find the room number he told me. And I’m nothing but a good kind of excited as I knock on Kageyama’s door with a cheerful rhythm.

“I’m here!” I announce.  I glance at the volleyball in my hands and add, “and I brought a friend!”

I wait a little longer for Kageyama to tell me I can come in, because Kageyama has made it clear he doesn’t like me just barging inside. As I’m waiting, my attention is grabbed by a small sign hanging on the door. Red characters at the top say “reminder!” with below it some bullet points. One of the first ones reminds me to sanitize my hands. The next one telling me not to bring any materials inside that could risk Kageyama getting a bacterial infection.

I glance at the ball in my hands, which I just grabbed from the gym and took on the bus with me. If I’m to believe mom, who always tells me to wash my hands well now that I’m taking the bus, it’s a place full of germs. But this is the one and only thing he asked for, so once I get Kageyama’s approval to head inside, I immediately drop my backpack on the complete other side of the room. If it’s not near him, it shouldn’t be a danger, right? As for the ball, I take it straight to the sink. Here I wash it with the antibacterial soap to rid it of any germs and such.

“What the Hell are you doing?” Kageyama asks when he sees me washing the volleyball.

“It’s full of bacteria,” I say, because I’m sure it is. “So, I thought I’d wash it.”

“Oh, uh- thanks,” Kageyama grumbles, but he doesn’t sound thankful about me being there at all.

I dry off the ball once the soap has been on there for what feels like it should be long enough. After that I wash my own hands too, before taking a hold of it and walking towards Kageyama.

As soon as I walk towards Kageyama, ready to ask him all about his first full day the rehabilitation centre, I get silenced by his stretched out hand. Kageyama reaches his hand with all the fingers out towards the ball, gesturing his fingers upwards, wordlessly telling me to give it to him. I follow his order and give him the ball, before sitting down in his wheelchair, because there aren’t many other chairs in the room. At least, not near his bed, and I don’t feel like dragging one over here when I’ve already exhausted my muscles and bones by being at school all day. I didn’t initially think that going to school would cause me to get so many muscle aches, but it turns out that schoolbags are actually pretty freaking painful for your shoulders when you’re completely out of shape. I have no clue how non-sporting students do this, but I know I cannot.

Kageyama’s wheelchair is very extremely uncomfortable, though, so I almost instantly regret sitting down. The floor probably would’ve been more comfortable than this hard, iron thing.

“This is terrible,” I say, trying to get into a position that does sit right, but the back’s too straight and the seat’s too hard. “Do they actually make you do physical therapy in this?”

Kageyama hums a “yes” in response while throwing up and catching the ball in his left hand. He isn’t using his other hand, the one without the fingers, because that one’s resting in a sling. It used to be in a sling all day every day when it was still healing, but there’s no bandage around it now, and it’s healed enough that the stitches have been removed. So I wonder-

“Did something happen to your arm during physical therapy?” I ask, nodding towards his right arm.

Kageyama remains silent, too focussed on catching the ball. Once he’s caught it, a little clumsily but without letting fall, he puts it down on the mattress and rests his hand on it. He turns to me. “Hm?”

I stare at him. “You have to be kidding me.” I’m not sure if I’m offended or disappointed; he asked me to come over, but he’s too obsessed with the freaking ball to even notice I’m asking him something? That’s insane. And also very impolite. “I asked you if something happened to your right arm.”

He glances at his right arm, he moves slowly and his eyes glaze over it, almost like he’s too tired to stay awake. “Oh that-“ He pauses. “Apparently there’s a limit to what you can do in one day.” He shrugs, looking back to me. “The scars from the burns make my skin really tight, this on top of not moving it at all made my muscles very tight and fragile,” he explains, it sounds like someone explained it to him and he’s searching for the words they used as he’s speaking to me. “So, it was hard to move. But I tried my hardest, which caused me to somehow overuse it during the first half of therapy.” He glances at the sling and shrugs. “It’s just a bit sore. But it has to rest for a bit.”

I get where he’s coming from; you don’t stop to think about how much of your muscles you lose and how much your energy decreases if you don’t use them, until you’re bedridden for a while and then start moving again. I dealt with the same after the first day of school; coming home with sore legs and swollen ankles. I had to keep them up high all evening and not take in too much fluid, because from what mom looked up, it was either because I pushed my boundaries or because I drank too much and the dialysis wasn’t keeping up. It’s not exactly the same for Kageyama, but I can imagine that just like me, his body also just works differently now. “That sucks big-time,” I tell him, sympathy in my voice.

Kageyama nods, before letting his attention drift off again. The nail of his finger scratches the ball, the rough texture causing it to make a funny sound.

“Other than that? How was physical therapy?”

No response. The dude’s exhausted, I can tell by the way his eyes almost fall shut every now and then.

“Why did you even ask me to come by?” I ask him, deciding that physical therapy exhausted him so much that he doesn’t even feel like getting any visitors.

He blinks at me, squinting like he’s saying “you didn’t know?”, then he nods towards the ball and says, “I needed some distraction.” The distraction clearly being the volleyball, not me. “So, uh, thanks.”

I raise my eye brows. “Whoa-“ My jaw drops, maybe a bit dramatic, but at least he now notices that that’s actually pretty offending. He just wanted me here to bring him a volleyball and leave? “I’m not your servant, you know?” I shake my head and click my tongue. “I guess that if you don’t need me for that distraction, I’m just going to leave.” I’m joking, of course; I just got here and paid for my bus ride, I’m not leaving already. But he doesn’t know that. “But this is from school,” I say, reaching out towards the ball. “So if I’m going to have to take this back with me-“

“No.” Kageyama’s arm wraps around the ball, squishing it against his chest. “I need it.” He totally doesn’t sound ball-obsessed. Really. But part of me gets where he’s coming from; it’s probably because he wants to get his muscles back as soon as possible. And the way we volleyball players know to do that is by playing with the ball; bouncing it in our hands, up against the wall, stuff like that.

“Alright, then,” I say, because I can understand his reasoning. “But the least you can do is throw me a nice set.” I open my eyes to see Kageyama staring at me from the corner of my eye. His mouth is pressed into a firm line, his eyes dark and sad as they move away from me, lingering on his right hand.

“You know I can’t.” His voice is low, not even angry, just numb.

Guilt washes over me as soon as I realize what I just said. “Shit, sorry, dude-“ I immediately say. “I don’t know what got over me, I know you can’t yet.” I pause, thinking about why on Earth I said that. Like a habit, it just showed up in my mind and slipped out of my mouth. “Hell, I can’t spike one either.”

“Yeah-“ Kageyama goes silent, his eyes don’t look at me when he adds, “-but what else is new?”

My mouth drops open when I realize what he means. He’s just on a roll today, isn’t he.

A small smirk appears on his face as soon as I punch him in the shoulder – not his injured one, not hard – and shout, “You asshole! I can spike amazingly!”

“No, you couldn’t.” Despite his mean words, the laughter badly hidden below them is enough to make me snicker as well. “You’ve always sucked.” We both chuckle, but once that falters the guilt returns to me. I stare at the volleyball, hesitating before finally asking, “Who says we can’t play?”

“Hinata.” Kageyama’s voice is serious, I’d say maybe even a little frustrated but he sounds too tired to know for sure. “I just told you; my skin is tight and not at all flexible. Like, I literally cannot move the right side of my body. Not much, at least.” He takes a slow breath. “I cannot set you a ball.”

I shake my head. “Look, I’m not saying you have to set me a ball. I’m saying, who says we can’t practice with the ball; get stronger, you get what I mean?” I pause, but before he can say anything, I admit, “I haven’t seen anyone of our team at practice, not once. I don’t think anyone goes, but I wouldn’t know, because I haven’t been allowed to go. Kidney failure makes your bones fragile, my muscles are sore all day every day, and if I overuse them, they swell.” That’s what the doctors told me. “I cannot go to real practice. I might never play in a match again.” I take a slow breath, still staring at the volleyball. “But no one has said that I can’t play a low-pressure game of catch with my best friend.”

I look up to see Kageyama looking back. His tiredness seems gone, replaced by excitement when he says, “Yeah.” He nods, a small smile making its way onto his face. “That’s right!”

I smile back, nodding to myself. “Let’s do that, then.”

He takes a hold of the ball, raising his hand, getting ready to throw.

My heart in slamming in my chest, excitement rushing through my veins. I scoot back a little with his wheelchair and bend my back, readying myself like I would when receiving. Right before the ball leaves his hands, I quickly remind him not to throw the ball with too much force.

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes. “Fragile bones, I know.”

“Good.”

“Ready?” he asks, just to make sure.

“Ready,” I reply.

His hand swings, the very tips of his fingers sending it flying in my direction.

I raise my arms, adjusting to where the ball’s coming from. “Whoa!” I catch the ball in my hands, and feel how nicely it fits in my hands. I’ve missed that feeling. I haven’t caught a ball in ages; sure it’s not the same as feeling as receiving a ball someone just spiked, and it doesn’t even come close to the sting on your skin after doing a proper spike. But it’s just one step closer.

I throw it back to Kageyama, aiming for his left arm. When he catches it and a smile immediately erupts on his face, I know he feels the same as me. I know he feels one step closer to whole again.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Daichi Sawamura
Friday, 15:19

Every day, I work harder. I grow stronger, but I’m also working longer. I’m having less and less time, and yet, as soon as my appointments come to an end, Suga’s always the first to be beside me.

Ever since the accident, he hasn’t left my side. He’s been a stability in my life. Like he promised me to. A promise, I admit I thought he wouldn’t stick to flawlessly for such a long time. Not because Suga’s someone who tends to break promises, not at all, but because I thought he wouldn’t be able to do it.

See me like this. Especially before I was doing as well as I am now.

He told me about his mom before, mentioning how she’d passed away after being comatose for quite a while. So, to me it’s a miracle that he even dared to step into my room that first time. That he held my hand and promised me he wouldn’t leave my side no matter what. And he’s still here now.

If I were in his shoes, I don’t know if I could’ve done the same. I would’ve tried, of course, but I don’t know if I could’ve done it as well as he has; always showing up with a gentle smile and a soft “hi” like he does when he walks into my room for not long after I got back from physical therapy today.

“Hey,” I reply, carefully waving at him.

Just like he’s done every other day, he closes the door behind him with barely any sound, not wanting to cause me to have a headache. He told me that is why he does it, and even though I told him I don’t get headaches nearly as often as I used to when I just woke up from my coma, he still does it.

“How are you feeling?” he asks me after closing the door.

“Good,” I say and it feels really good to know it’s not a lie. “Physical therapy was a lot today, but it’s looking good.” I’m starting to learn more and more on how to become independent, and we’re trying to get my legs to strengthen up, so in a couple of months we might be able start training for me to walk again with support. It remains a question of whether I still have it in me, and we won’t know the answer until probably a month or six from now, but the fact that Dr Kikuchi is willing to start talking about it is something.

“Yeah? Was it tough?” Suga grabs a folding chair and sits down beside my bed, unlike my siblings, he prefers not to sit in my wheelchair even though I’m okay with him doing so. “What did you do?”

I tell him all about the exercises Dr Kikuchi gave me and how some of them were actually pretty easy. Me saying this is a big thing; just one week or so ago, everything was extremely tough. But now that we always start off each session with some repetition, the start always is pretty easy. It gets me warmed up for the second halves of the sessions, which often tire me to my limit. Which is why I was actually just about to fall asleep when Suga knocked on my door. My extremely low energy lasts for most of the time outside of therapy. It’s one of the reasons why I’ve been thinking about Suga’s promise a lot lately.

It’s not that I want him gone, away from here, in contrary even. I don’t know how I’ll feel if he’s not here and that uncertainty scares me, but I feel like I’m not giving him enough of my time. He’s giving me literally all of his time; time he could be using to get himself ready for the postgraduate teacher training he’s been talking about wanting to do once he’s graduated for our entire final year. He’s officially graduated now, but he’s not at college like he had planned to be. Instead he’s here, spending the savings he had for college on a place to spend the night for more than a month now.

And what do I do to thank him? Barely stay awake enough to hold a conversation in the little time the hospital will allow him to be with me. That’s all I manage to give him.

It seems wrong.

“Are you really okay?” Suga’s voice startles me out of my thoughts.

I look at him and smile. “Yeah,” I lie. I go silent, thinking about telling him about my worries about him. I feel like he should know I don’t want to seem this absentminded, I’m just tired. And I don’t want to keep him from living his life, just because mine has been put on hold. I’m starting to heal, this is my life now and in all honesty, I’m slowly but surely starting to have peace with that. What I don’t have peace with is that Suga put his life on pause too, for me. I don’t want that.

I take a slow breath in. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” I admit.

“Oh?” Suga looks at me, his eyes filled with anticipation.

“Well-“ My hands are shaking, and not just because of the tremor; I can practically feel the nervousness rushing through me. “You remember that promise you made me, right? Back in the forest?”

His eyebrows perk up. “Wait, you’re saying you remember that!?” He seems shocked; I thought he knew.

“Extremely vaguely, yes,” I tell him. “But that’s not the point.” I say it, mostly because, while I’d like to stall some more, I need to get myself back on track; this is not about me, it’s about Suga. “You promised you were not going to leave my side, right?”

Suga nods. “I did.” he says, clearly still remembering and actively keeping to the promise he made. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Well, you kept to that promise well. Uh-“ I swallow thickly. “And I’m really glad you did, but-“ I don’t know how to say this. I should’ve waited till the next time he’s over, but tomorrow and Sunday’s the weekend; that’s time for family visits. Suga would be stuck here for another weekend, paying for a stay and boring himself to death in his motel room. I don’t want that. I cannot have that.

So, I take a deep breath and as I’m breathing out, I also put the words out there. “But I think it’s time for you to leave.” I immediately regret saying them. Or well, not saying them perse, but phrasing it like that; now it sounds like I want him gone. That’s not what’s going on.

I open my mouth, wanting to talk it right, when the pained look in Suga’s eyes silences me.

“Okay,” he carefully says after a couple of silent seconds. He blinks slowly as if trying to get himself to realize what I just said. “Am I annoying to you?” he eventually asks.

“No.” I shake my head. Wishing I could turn back time. “It’s not like that.”

“Am I wasting your time?”

“No.” I turn away, staring at my blanket. “I’m wasting yours.”

Suga’s lips make a soft click when he parts them. He remains silent for another second, before asking, “What?” When I look back to him, his eyebrows are turned downward, into a frown. “You’re not wasting my time!”

“Yes, I am.” I hold onto that statement, because it’s true. “Because of me, you are stuck here.”

“I’m not-“

“You’re here, because of me, aren’t you?” I ask him, me needing to take a breath gives him time to answer. He doesn’t say a thing. “You already missed graduation because of me. And now? Are you just going to drop all your plans for the future; what about going to college? What about going to parties, getting drunk and singing bad karaoke?” I draw another breath, feeling my chest heave from trying to squeeze out as many words as possible before my voice runs out again. “You might not have any savings left if you stay here. Are you just never going to college? What about working as a teacher like you always wa-“

“All of that can wait!” he interrupts me. His cheeks are red, but I don’t know if that’s from sadness or anger. “It can wait till you’re all better again, Daichi. I made a promise, and I’m keeping to it!”

“I’m not going to be all better again!” I snap. My hands clench into tight fists, before slowly relaxing them again as I take a slow breath, trying to get a hold of my emotions. I know they say that the brain damage had the most influence on my physical body, but I’m not sure whether I always was this emotional. It comes in waves. Often short bursts of anger or sadness. It could just be the circumstances, too, but it might also have to do with the smack I’ve had against my head.

Once my breath runs out, I’m forced to be still and relax for a second. I take another breath and calmly explain, “Yes, I’m getting better with each day that passes, but I’m not stupid; I’m well-aware of the fact that healing from an injury like this is going to take a lifetime.” I think back to one of the first things Dr Kikuchi showed my during our sessions. “Have you ever seen a timeline for the recovery after a traumatic brain injury?” Knowing him, he probably has, but he doesn’t respond. So I say, “In severe cases like mine it can take up to six months, before I might be able to try and walk again. It can take up to a good year before I don’t need speech therapy anymore and they might let me try breathing without a trach. And as for when I’ll be functionally independent? It could take five years, if I’m lucky, but there are people who take up to ten years, before their body and mind are up to the job of living a somewhat normal life again. And even if I reach independence at some point, if I don’t keep giving it my all, my recovery can stall or even regress.” I pause, my heart races inside my chest and my throat hurts from talking at my loudest earlier. “Sure, time may proof a full recovery to be possible for me. But I am not going to ask you to put your life on hold for something that might not even happen in the end.”

Suga opens his mouth. “But you’re not asking me. I’m offering-“

“And I’m not allowing it.”

“But I want to stay.”

“I know.” I want that too, but I can’t ask that of him. I close my eyes, hesitating, before carefully asking, “Am I the only reason you’re here?”

“What?”

“Is there a special reason why you’re so eager to stay in Tokyo?” I ask him. “Something other than me?”

He looks up at me, his eyes seeming sad despite the gentle smile on his face. He shakes his head. “No.” He pauses some more. “I just wanted to stick with you. Until you’re better.”

“And I am, I’m doing better each day,” I promise him, because while I still have my daily aches and pains and I don’t know if I’ll ever be done with physical therapy, I am actually feeling better with every day that passes. Physical therapy is hard work, but it’s fun and it’s working. And the mix of medicine they’ve got me on may need some more tweaking before it’s perfect, but it does its job of making my days pretty bareable. Every morning I wake up with the feeling that it’s going to be better than the day before. But also busier. “So, if I’m the only reason you’re here, you’re dismissed. Go home.”

I don’t want Suga to be stuck here, paying for a place to stay, when I barely even have time for him anymore. I love his company, I really do, it’s one of the things I look forward to most. But I can’t expect him to stay here, spend money and be away from home, when I’m not in danger without his care.

“I promise I am not going to just die,” I tell Suga, to which he whispers a soft “I know”. I reach out to him and pat him on his upper leg, comforting him when I say, “Suga, it's time to go home.”

His eyes stare at my hand, he looks like he’s about to cry. But he doesn’t cry. Instead he smiles through his sadness and whispers, “Alright.” He looks up, his eyes meet mine. “But promise you won’t take too long to get back home yourself, okay?”

I smile back, and even though it’s not a promise I can make, I promise him. “Okay.”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Koushi Sugawara
Friday, 20:54

"Suga, it's time to go home." His words repeat themselves in my mind over and over again. Loud and obnoxious. Finding their way through murmurs of crowds and music blasting in my ears.

By the time my train finally reaches the stop closest to home, I've heard him tell me goodbye about a thousand times. If not more.

When my train ticket checks me out, the letters of the machine tell me “Welcome to Miyagi Station”, making it official; I’m home. But it doesn’t feel that way. I’m far away from Daichi.

With each step I take to my house, I feel like I’m walking farther away from home. I know that’s nonsense, because the exact opposite is happening. It just doesn’t feel that way.

I’m able to make it to my house in just a couple of minutes after arriving at the train station. I look down at my watch to see that it’s nine in the evening, exactly, which means our clock inside should be overpowering the soft jingle of my house key sliding into the lock and the click of the door opening.

I silently open the door, taking off my shoes before carefully walking inside on my socks.

My brother’s shoes are not there, he must be at his friend’s. The lights are off for as far as I can see, but there’s someone here; the smell of cigarettes and beer is penetrating, even in the hallway.

Bad news.

I take a labored breath, trying not to gag at the smell, as it would make too much noise.

I glance at the door to the livingroom. I’m fortunate it’s closed; I’m really not ready to deal with a “welcoming party” just yet. I just want to crash in bed, sleep until morning, and maybe deal with that whole ordeal when I’m well rested.

Nearly soundlessly, I sneak up the stairs. The operative word being “nearly”.

I wince when one of the steps creaks under my weight. There’s some inaudible grumbling coming from the living room, heavy footsteps follow soon after, approaching the hallway at an alarming rate.

I need to get to my room. I think to myself, remembering the cabinet that I can easily slide in front of my door if I hurry. I try to get up the stairs as fast as possible now that noise isn’t a factor anymore. But my foot slips on something wet, causing me to slide down a few steps. Shit.

The door flies open. A loud smash sounding as it smacks up against the wall.

I wince, lowering my head into my arms in defeat. I’m done for.

“Koushi, my son! You’re back.” My old man’s voice is slurred, his overly cheerful tone’s barely able to hide the rage underneath. “Did the boy finally kick the bucket? Huh?” His voice is sharp, his words leave a sting.

No matter how badly I want to rage back at him for even considering saying such rude things, I don’t speak. I stay silent. It’s my best bet; talking back isn’t going to keep me safe.

“Is that why you came back?” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Heavy footsteps come closer. “Too bad. Turns out your dear little brother and I can take care of ourselves real well-“ I know that’s a lie; my brother’s not home, and there’s the smell of beer everywhere. I wonder how long it’s been since my father ate a proper meal. I wonder how many bottles have been emptied by him.

His voice is almost a whisper when he hisses, “We don’t need you anymore.”

Another loud footstep. He’s close. I can hear his heavy breathing.

“We don’t need you anymore!” he says, louder this time. “What do you think of that?” A hand gets a hold of the hood of the vest I’m wearing. It hurts when I get pulled back, the sudden force making me gag. But there’s no mercy. I get pulled to my feet, my father’s fist clenching the fabric of my hoodie.

His face is close to mine. His breath reeks when he shouts, “Don’t ignore me!”

I avert my gaze, not looking in his eyes. I know better than to disobey his orders. I know it, and still, I don’t speak. I wouldn’t know what to say; there’s no reasoning with him when he’s like this.

With jerk of his hand, he pushes me up against the wall.

“What made you think you could come back, huh?” he shouts in my ear. “After abandoning us!”

“I didn’t abandon you,” I say, my voice calm. So calm it’s almost opposite of the fear raging through my veins. I’ve seen dad get angry, many times before; in his mind the smallest things like the television being too loud or my grades being too low can end in pure rage. With him being just as angry as he’s right now. But it was always about accidents, and while I often dealt with the concequences of mistakes by receiving a slap, his rage was never entirely directed at me. Never was it because I’d actively, knowingly, done something I knew would upset him.

When I stayed at the hospital, I actively disobeyed his orders to come back home. I knew the consequences and I did it anyway. Now, it’s time to face them head on.

“You didn’t abandon us-“ He huffs out a breath of air, scoffing. “You have to be kidding me, Koushi! You left us, stayed in Tokyo despite me clearly telling you not to, for someone you knew was going to die. I tried to protect you-“ There he goes, all high and mighty of himself. “-but you didn’t listen! And now your friend is dead-“

“He’s not!” I shout back. “Daichi’s alive! Getting better with each day, actually.” I pause, shortly before looking at him from the corner of my eye. “I never needed your protection.”

He bites the inside of his cheek. His fist clenches around the hood of my vest. His voice is cold, merciless when he says, “No. Maybe you don’t need my protection anymore.” There’s a tug on my hood, the safe wall disappears as I’m being pulled into the open air. Through the front door. I grab my fingers around the zipper of the vest, trying to loosen it before the sharp bits pierce through my skin, but I’m shaking too much. My feet unsteadily move along with where my father pulls me towards.

There’s another tug. Followed by sudden lightness that comes with him releasing me.

I get pushed away, through the door. I attempt to steady myself, but my feet slip out from beneath me when I reach the end of the doorstep. I topple over. My arm just barely manages to break my fall before the rest of my weight hits the gravel.

“Let’s see how you do without my protection, then!” Sharp words, followed by a dull pain spreading through my skin as a foot hits me in the face. “There’s more where that came from if you ever dare to show your face here again!” The door slams shut, so hard it causes my ears to ring for a moment.

I curl up, lying on the doorstep. My hand cradling my cheek, which is already burning and throbbing.

I open my eyes, looking around myself while sitting up. The world spins a little, but it’s not hard to see the street’s completely empty. There’s not a single person there. Just like every other time, no one saw. He made sure of that.

Once the dizziness leaves for the most part, I get up and start walking. I cannot be seen. Not like this, not here. It’ll end catastrophically if I am spotted like this. So I walk away.

I feel like I’m walking around without any place to go, just wherever. Not going anywhere at all. Because I’ve got nowhere to go. But I eventually end up in front of a familiar door. I don't know why; I know Daichi won't be here. But I've got nowhere else to go. Not my own home, at least, if I don't want to be send straight back to the hospital. It'll probably only take my father a few days to get rid of this raging anger, but till then, I better not show my face.

With my own home being off limits, I have nowhere to go. Just here.

The Sawamura household has come to feel like my own home over the years. I know it will be different without Daichi there, but it's better than sleeping out on the streets.

I take a deep breath, dry the tears that are smeared out all over my sore cheek, before finally gathering the courage to knock on the door.

There's some speaking inside, a voice shouting, "Just a sec!", which is a familiar sound. Very familiar. Just a little different; usually it's Daichi shouting through the thin walls, and while his younger brother sounds a lot like him since his voice has started to drop, I recognize the difference right away.

The door opens with a creek, Daichi's oldest brother peeks around the corner. "Oh, it's you." He frowns lightly, a little confused, when he lays eyes on my cheek. He opens his mouth, clearly about to ask me something, when his mother’s voice sounds in the distance.

“Who’s there?” she shouts.

“It’s Suga!” Daichi’s brother shouts back. “Can he come inside?” he asks, stepping aside as soon as his mom says, “Of course, Sugawara’s always welcome!” She doesn’t sound shocked about me being here, so maybe Daichi told her he send me home. Which wouldn’t immediately explain why I’m here, on her doorstep, but she’s used to that; there have been many afternoons and evenings where I joined the Sawamura’s for dinner or stayed over to watch a movie or even for a sleepover. It happened almost once or twice a week, on the days my father had been off work and spend a little too much time drowning his grief about my mom with a few bottles of beer. On those days, our emergency plan came into action; I would walk my brother to his best friend’s house, and I’d go over to Daichi’s.

But I never really told Daichi why, just lies about being bored or something. And he and his family always invited me in, let me stay for dinner, as long as I helped with the dishes.

Despite Daichi being far from here, that hasn’t changed; me showing up on their doorstep uninvited is treated like the most normal case in the world. Daichi’s siblings, or the ones who are still up at least, greet me when I walk into the livingroom. And miss Sawamura peeks around the kitchen’s door to greet me with a wide smile. Her smile fades, though, as soon as she lays eyes on my cheek.

In all the years that I’ve been coming here, I managed to never show up with visible injuries; just the occasional bruise on my arm or leg, which could be downplayed as a volleyball injury.

“What happened to you?” She immediately rushes over to me, reaching up with her hand.

I pull away, covering up the bruise with my hand straight away. “It’s nothing.” I say, turning away.

“Sugawara.” Her eyes look at me, worried when she says, “I won’t ask where you got this-“ I can hear her swallow the “yet” because eventually she will want to know. “But please, at least let me put some ice on it.”

I take a deep breath, knowing that putting some ice on it is probably the best way to stop the throbbing and swelling that’s happening inside of my cheek right now. But what if she still asks where I got it? I know she has suspicions, probably, everyone always has. But no matter how much I hate my father in this instance, he still is my dad. His blood runs through my veins, and I’d be a liar if I’d say I didn’t feel the urge to hit something or someone in the past month and a half. That’s just what stress can do to a person.

I try to push the thoughts away and nod once. “Thank you.”

Miss Sawamura directs me to the kitchen, closing the door behind us so Daichi’s siblings don’t have to watch her treating my injuries. She places me on a chair. She grabs a packet of frozen peas from the freezer, wrapping it in a thin towel once before carefully placing it on my cheek. It takes a second for the cold to seep through the towel, but as soon as it reaches my cheek, it immediately eliminates the burning pain of my skin. I close my eyes and feel the stinging turn into a dull cold.

In between short periods of cooling it miss Sawamura lifts the peas off to see how it’s looking below. “That’s going to be quite the bruise,” she tells me.

I nod once. It’s probably going to take two or three weeks to completely fade.

She goes silent again. Putting the bag of peas against my cheek again, before asking me to hold it.

I wrap my hand around it.

Once I’ve got a hold of it, miss Sawamura rises to her feet. She rests up against the counter, looking down at me. I probably look like a mess; wearing her son’s clothes, my greasy hair curling in all directions and having a sack of peas pressed up against my cheek. I probably smell like beer and cigarettes too, even though I never drank or smoked in my life. What must she think of me?

“Did someone on the train attack you?” she guesses, even though she promised not to ask.

I shake my head. “No one on the train attacked me,” I confirm.

“Did you fall? Bump into something?”

Again, I shake my head. “I did not.” I could easily tell her that’s what happened, if it’d been a bruise on my knee or elbow, but what on Earth even causes a bruise on the cheek? I don’t even want to lie to her; I just don’t want to tell the truth either. And even if I wanted to, I can’t.

The worry in her eyes makes it clear that she won’t have a peace of mind until she knows, though, but she doesn’t force me to tell her. She doesn’t ask the one question I know I can’t answer.

But deep inside of me, there’s a part of me that’s disappointed that she doesn’t ask it.

There’s a part of me that believes that she should know, just like Daichi should’ve known about my situation at home much earlier.

I open my mouth, slowly, still hesitant about if I should tell her. It’s not like she can help us, I don’t expect her to change anything about it; she’s got enough going on with Daichi. But I can see in her eyes that she needs to know. She’s got enough going on, and maybe leaving her to wonder isn’t the best choice right now. I’m going to be straight with her, but also clear; there will be no report of this.

Not for my sake, but for my brother’s sake; I can just walk away, live on my own like I’ve done for the past weeks now that I’m old enough to start earning money, but he can’t. He’s stuck. The only reason why I go back is him. But at the same time, one of the reasons why no one can know about dad’s violent urges is because of my brother; he’s underage. If the police get their hands on my dad, my brother might be taken away. I don’t want his life to change another time, when it already got turned around once when our mother passed away. He’s gone through enough change.

So, the first thing I tell miss Sawamura is, “Alright, I’ll tell you what happened.” I make sure to have eye contact when I say, “But there will be no mentions of this; not to the police, but not to Daichi either.” If Daichi’s going to find out, I’ll be the one to tell him. “We didn’t have this conversation, okay?”

Miss Sawamura takes a second to think, before eventually nodding. “Okay.”

“I got this bruise, because-“ I swallow thickly. “-sometimes, my father drinks a lot, and when he does, his impulses sometimes take over.” It should say more than enough. I know she knows what I mean.

My throat feels dry, my heart is racing inside of my chest while I wait for miss Sawamura to respond. She doesn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, she just frowns. She just stands there, staring at the wall across from her. Until her hands eventually raise up to her face, rubbing her eyes as she mutters, “So, Daichi was right all along.”

“Daichi?” My head shakes lightly. “Are you trying to say-”

“He knew. Or well, he had his suspicions.”

I blow out some air, trying to wrap my head around that; all this time, Daichi suspected that something was wrong. Of course he did. Of course; that’s why he didn’t send me away, not even once. No matter how busy he was at the moment, he always invited me inside with a wide smile. Asked if I was alright, even if I’d already had told him that I was. Of course he knew.

“He told me, about half a year after you’d met, that he saw the signs. He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t sleep well at night, because he suspected that your father abused you and your brother. Instead of listening, I told him not to make assumptions like that.” She lowers her hands and turns to me, her eyes apologetic. “I should’ve seen the signs.”

I shake my head. “You couldn’t have known.”

“I could’ve.”

I frown. “How?”

“Let me tell you, me and my ex-husband had three wonderful children together when we got a divorce. This divorce involved one strict rule: he was not allowed near my children, and that has a good reason.” Her voice is low, almost a whisper as she speaks. “Daichi’s father- well, let’s he was a kind man. But sometimes, he drank a lot, and when he did, his impulses tended to take over. Often times towards me, but-” She visibly hesitates before admitting, “-when he laid a finger on Daichi for the first time, because he’d tried protecting me, I knew it was up to me to make sure it would be the last time. I demanded a divorce that same day to make sure of that.”

“I never would’ve guessed.” I always assumed that Daichi’s father left his mother, because they weren’t happy together. That Daichi despised him about the same amount that I despised mine, because his father had left his mother a single parent of three young children. That is what Daichi always told me.

I guess we both had our secrets in the end.

“You couldn’t have,” she promises. “Daichi never speaks about it; he remembers, but he doesn’t like to see himself as a victim of his father’s abuse. He’d much rather see the fact that I banned his father from seeing him, ever, as a decision he made himself.” She smiles to herself, it’s a sad smile. “No matter how close you are, he wouldn’t have ever told you. He’s so good at keeping that part of his past hidden that, sometimes, even I believe he has completely forgotten about it.”

I nod once. Sometimes that’s the same for me; an entire day, or even weeks, of acting like things are fine at home can make you believe that’s actually what’s going on. You haven’t actually forgotten, you just like to keep that part of you hidden. I didn’t want Daichi to see me as a victim.

He didn’t want me to see him as one either.

“Won’t he mind that you told me?” I carefully ask miss Sawamura after a silent minute or two.

“Oh, he definitely will.” Miss Sawamura nervously chuckles to herself. She knows what she did; just like me, she gave it a good thought and decided that this was important information. She knew the risks.

“Good thing, then, that this conversation never happened.” I show her a smile; a silent promise meaning that I won’t tell. I won’t let Daichi know what she told me; she won’t tell anyone what I told her, after all. It was our deal. I’ll keep to it.

And maybe when I tell Daichi about my situation, he’ll know that I’m going through the same as he once has. And maybe- hopefully, he’ll decide to open up to me too. And I’ll officially know.

But until then, this conversation never happened. That’s a promise.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Tooru Oikawa
Monday, 18:09

When I got on the bus earlier this evening, I got on the bus with a mission. The objective: visit Kageyama, find out how he's doing, and return with a full report for my teammates and Nekoma and Fukurodani. Those teams consist of curious people - they all want to know how Kageyama is doing. We asked over text, but he wouldn't reply. How rude of him; we saved him from the claws of doom, so the least he could do is reply to our texts.

His teammates managed to do that at least; Hinata texted Kenma when we were all together. Bokuto spammed Tsukishima until he finally replied with a short, unamused sounding voice message. The managers, Kiyoko and Yachi, texted us with a full report a couple of days after the accident; telling us anout how everyone was alive, and they thanked us for saving them. And Sugawara texted the three captains – so including me – on behalf of Daichi and the entire team. But Kageyama didn’t personally let anyone know anything about his situation. Until exactly one day ago.

He texted us, his old middle school team, he had been transferred to Miyagi, to a rehabilitation centre, and said he was feeling more up to having visitors over. He didn’t want everyone to come rushing by at once, but he wouldn’t mind it if a few of us would drop by to say “hello”. In this text, he barely sounded like himself; maybe Hinata put him up to texting us, or maybe Kageyama never wrote the message in the first place. But I’m about to find that out, since we decided that I would go by, on behalf of the team, and Iwaizumi would join me for the sake of my nerves, which have been bothering me since the text.

A morning of ever-intensifying stomach aches and an afternoon with chills that kept running up and down my spine. All because of what I remember of the flashes I saw of my old teammate; not the ones that were broadcasted on the television, but the ones I saw when we found them in the woods.

They still haunt me in my dreams; images of the bone sticking from Kageyama’s leg and the burns coloring his skin in various tones of red and even black. It made me wonder if we’d been too late.

Iwaizumi says he doesn’t feel that same fear surrounding the whole accident, he swears he doesn’t lay awake at night, wondering what could’ve happened if we’d gotten there sooner. Or not at all. But I’ve seen the bags under his eyes growing just a little darker, and his reaction time during practice getting just a little slower. His mean comments to me have increased, sadly, so when I mentioned the stomach ache caused by my nerves to him on our bus ride here, Iwa immediately publically humiliated me.

My point being, all these signs point to Iwa also having a hard time surrounding the accident.

Despite that, he seems cool as a cucumber as we march into the rehabilitation centre Kageyama said he would be at. Iwa just walks a few steps behind me, as usual, as we make our way to the front desk. If Kageyama actually was the person that invited us over, he probably let the nurses know we’re coming.

If he didn’t. Well, then I guess I was nervous for nothing, because that means he doesn’t want us over. And I’ve come to know that if Kageyama doesn’t want something, he won’t allow it to happen.

I ring the little bell standing on the front desk to catch a young woman’s attention. As soon as she hears the ringing of the bell, she looks up from the pieces of paper that disburse from the printer.

“Oh, good afternoon, gentlemen,” she says once she’s closer.

Iwa snickers, probably at the “gentlemen”.

The young woman takes a seat on the desk-chair and looks up at us. “Can I help you?”

I lean on the desk and say, “Yeah, we’re here to visit a patient of yours; Tobio Kageyama.”

“Oh, yes, certainly. Let me see if he has time in his schedule.”

I frown lightly. Why does this make it sound like Kageyama’s some popular person, who doesn’t have any time for visitors, ever?

Her mouse clicks some things. After a few seconds of silence she looks up with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, Kageyama’s having visitors over as we speak. They should’ve arrived about half an hour ago, so maybe you can come back later. See if he has time then?”

“Visitors?” I shake my head. “But he asked us to-“ Then a realization hits me. “Who’s visiting him?”

Another click of her mouse. “Two friends, I can’t give full names for privacy reasons.”

Bingo! I snap my finger.

“Yeah! Yeah, that’s us!” I announce. “I’m Tooru Oikawa, and my friend over here’s Hajime Iwaizumi. Uh, we missed our first bus because of school, so we’re a little late. But that’s us.” I nod, actually surprisingly happy Kageyama actually decided he wanted to meet up with us. Maybe the fact that we saved him gave him some respect for us after all.

“Alright, feel free to go up to his room then,” she tells us. “Do wash your hands when entering, please, we prefer to keep him away from as many bacteria as possible.”

“Will do,” I promise her, before turning away. I take one step before realizing something. I turn back to the receptionist. “Say, you don’t know which way is Kageyama’s room, by any chance?”

“Yeah, gentleman over here forgot to ask the room number,” Iwa tells her straight away.

I give him a pained look, mouthing, “Shut up! You’re mean!” before turning back to the receptionist again with a smile. “I admit it would be nice if you could give us some directions, if that’s possible?”

She chuckles into her fist before telling me exactly where to go. She gives clear directions and tells us which room, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find Kageyama’s room. I hope.

We stay on ground level and after a few turns, just like the receptionist said, we find the room with Kageyama’s name slit into the small frame beside the door.

“Here we are,” I mutter, mostly to myself. I stick out my hand, make a fist. And freeze up.

“Just knock,” Iwaizumi says. But there’s nerves rushing through me, because I’m afraid the images of that night will come back. It’s a normal fear, right? But not to Iwa. He puts his hand on my shoulder for the first time today, and calmly reminds me that it’ll be better. “No need to be nervous.”

I take his words to heart, knocking on the door and announcing our arrival.

“You’re late,” Kageyama’s voice sounds from the other side of the door. His words are cold as I remember them to be, his voice monotone, as he adds, “But come in anyway.”

As we push through the door, my stomach ache returns. So do the images of that night when I see Kageyama sitting on top of his bed with his back against the wall and a mug of milk on his overbed table. Scars stretch all over the guy’s face and neck, and probably his shoulders, arms and chest too, but I can’t see too well, because they’re hiding underneath a baggy, long sleeved shirt. He’s not lying underneath his blanket, instead he sits on top of it, with one of his legs bend slightly upwards to support him to keep sitting upright. The other one is, as I’d seen on the news, indeed completely gone.

One of his hands reaches for the mug, the other lays in his lap. It sends shivers down my spine when I see why it was wrapped up in bandages in that video they broadcasted on the news. Seeing all fingers being gone makes me feel deeply bad for the guy; as a fellow setter, I know how important your fingers are when setting the ball. Your mind makes the decisions, but without your hands and fingers to send the ball in the right direction, you can’t call yourself a good setter. Kageyama was a god-tier setter, not as good as me, of course, but still; he had a real shot at becoming big. I can only imagine how heartbreaking this must be for someone as serious about volleyball as Kageyama.

There’s a small slurp when Kageyama takes a sip of his milk. He swallows and says, “Well, don’t just stand there. Come inside and sit down, guys.”

“I-“ I stammer, swiftly washing my sweaty hands and wiping them off on my sweatpants, before walking further into the room. Both Iwa and I take off our jackets before we take a seat in silence. I take a deep breath, my eyes scanning over Kageyama again. It’s absurd to believe this guy was giving me a run for my money during our first practice match against Karasuno. This kid trained under me. And look at him now- this is not something like my injured ankle from a while back. No matter how many therapy sessions Kageyama gets, I doubt he’ll ever be on the court again. And more than anything, it stings to know that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t have happened if we started our search earlier. We all deal with that thought a lot, especially the few of us that were there when they were found, who helped checking pulses, bandaging up wounds and supporting the few of them who were still able to walk as they made their way to the ambulance.

Though everyone praises us for saving their lives, the guilt of not getting there any sooner is overwhelming sometimes.

Iwa’s elbow nudges me in the side, urging me back to reality.

“Huh?” I mutter, blinking a few times.

Kageyama is staring at me with his ice-cold eyes. “I asked you a question.”

“You asked me-“ I repeat, I heard nothing. “Sorry.” I chuckle, rubbing the back on my head. “Guess I spaced out. What did you say?”

Kageyama takes another sip of his milk. “How are you doing?”

“Me?” I point at myself, before leaning back in my chair, my arm resting on the backrest. “Oh, I’m just wonderful; working on getting the job of my dreams, sleeping well-“ Lies. Not all, but the last one, definitely. It’s just what I tell people lately, because they – especially old teammates – ask me why I look so miserable; I don’t know why they ask, though, I don’t think I look too different from usually.

“You?” I ask him, as if I don’t already know what he’ll probably say.

“Pretty good,” Kageyama says, to my surprise. Even in the years we spend together in middle school together didn’t he say he was doing pretty good very often. He was always somewhat frustrated, and when you asked him how he was doing his standard answer would be “fine”, often snappy.

But I guess not anymore. There’s even a little smile on his face when he admits he’s been enjoying his time here at the rehabilitation centre. “It’s hard work, but it’s fun work. I’m going to get a mold made for my prosthetic later this week,” he tells us, clearly gleaming at the thought of getting a brand new leg. “And maybe even cooler is that I’m allowed to train for sitting volleyball once I’m further along in my healing process. It might take some time, before my skin isn’t so tight anymore, but it’s something to look forward to.” He smiles shortly. “So that’s cool.”

Sitting volleyball. Bokuto mentioned Nishinoya was also training for that, apparently it’s some form of volleyball for disabled people, like Kageyama and him. I didn’t think it’d be for Kageyama, seeing as he always wanted to play volleyball to the best of his abilities. With his hand, he’s not going to be able to set like before. But still, it’s good news to hear he’s not completely out of commission.

“That’s great news!” Iwa tells him. “I’m happy for you, dude.” Which are words he never told me.

“Yeah!” I nod. “It’s amazing news, Kageyama!”

Kageyama smiles shyly. I swear I’ve never seen the guy smile so much, especially not when he’s around me.

But he seems more open today.

Because of that openness, the half an hour of our visit that was still left, passes pretty quickly. And less awkwardly then I thought it would. It’s strange seeing Kageyama like this, but not as strange as I thought it would be.

“Eh, guys?” Kageyama asks, just when we’re about to leave.

We turn around, I stop halfway in the movement of putting my jacket back on. I look at him, his face looks serious, like he’s about to ask us a big favor. “Yes?” I reply.

“I know you probably don’t feel like it, but if you have time,” he begins. “Would you two, and the others who were there when you- you know, found us, like to come to the court next week?”

“To the court?” I frown; since when is Kageyama allowed to play again? Alright, he said he’s hoping to train for it, but he said it was going to take some time, right? But if he thinks he’ll be healed so soon- “You got to be a bit more specific, though; the one at Aoba Johsai High or Karasuno, or-“

“Whoa, you are seriously stupid, aren’t you?” Iwaizumi mutters, shaking his head. He directs his gaze from me to Kageyama and asks, “You mean the court of justice, right?”

Kageyama nods once.

“He’s going to take us to court!? What did we do wro-”

“Just shut your mouth and listen, Stupidkawa.”

“You are being really really mean, you know that?”

Iwa smacks me on the back with his hand. “Shut up!” he hisses.

“Ouch!” I whine, rubbing my now-sore hip.

“Thank you,” Kageyama says, there’s a small smirk on his face. His face gets more serious when he looks back to me and says, “No, no one’s taking you to court. In fact, Yachi’s mom sued mister Takeda for the damage and injuries he caused to us.” My jaw drops; that’s absurd. “His hearing is on Tuesday next week. Obviously we, as in the old team Karasuno, are all going to be there. But I’m asking, on behalf of the team, if you and the others who were there would like to come as well.” He pauses, awaiting a response. When he doesn’t get one right away, he tells us that we don’t have to come. “It’s just that we thought it would be a nice way to finish up this chapter of our lives.”

I nod slowly. Maybe it would.

“Yeah.” I smile, giving Kageyama a thumbs up. “We’ll be there! So, you better win that case!”

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Asahi Azumane
Tuesday, 10:00

It’s weird, but like a really good kind of weird, to have Nishinoya show up on my doorstep instead of me having to go to wherever he’s staying. But after weeks of waiting, the moment has finally arrived where this is a possibility again, because this night was Nishinoya’s last night at the rehabilitation centre. And earlier this morning, they waved him goodbye. Not because if all goes well he’s never coming back to live there, but he’s going to start doing outpatient physical therapy instead. Meaning he’ll only have to come in for a few hours a couple of days a week, and the other days he’s free to do anything he can do with his back.

So, of course the first thing Nishinoya said he wanted to do, was show me his "sick ass tricks".

On that note, we decided to meet up today and head out to Karasuno high, not for classes; I’m graduated and Nishinoya won’t be heading back to school until the start of next term. No, we’re heading to Karasuno’s gym, where we always played volleyball. We’re allowed to use it while the other students have classes. And instead of me heading over to Nishinoya's to pick him up, he shows up at my house at ten in the morning so we can head to Karasuno together, since I live closer than he does.

I expected his grandfather to drop him off close at my house, but the layer of sweat shimmering on Nishinoya's forehead and the red of his cheeks, make me believe that he actually got here by himself. When he'd just started therapy I wouldn't have ever expected to see him do that; he was always talking about how tiring even the smallest tasks were. But they clearly let him go home for a reason, because he's able to get himself all the way from his house to mine without dropping from exhaustion.

"Hey there-" He does sound quite out of breath. "-are you-- ready?" he asks in-between gasps.

“I am, but uhm-“ I look at him as he leans up against the low back of his wheelchair taking quick breaths. He looks like he just ran a marathon, but it probably also feels like that too. “Are you?”

He opens his eye a little, immediately smiling wide. He takes another deep breath before wiping the sweat off his forehead. He places his hands on the wheels and nods. “As ready as I’ll ever be!”

I smile, glad that after everything that has happened, Nishinoya hasn’t lost that endless energy of his.

As we’re heading towards the school, Nishinoya keeps up with me at an unexpectedly fast pace; even during the few times I was able to visit him in the rehabilitation centre, I’ve never seen him use his wheelchair, because most times he was resting in bed. Now I can see how strong his arms have actually gotten, or maybe it’s his technique sending the wheelchair flying pretty good distances in just one or two pushes. He even tries to race me a few time, especially when we make it onto school grounds. He suddenly pushes a lot further, making him reach the gym sooner than me.

“Whoa, you’re fast!” I tell him, my hands resting on my knees as I try to catch my breath. Compared to Nishinoya, who’s been working hard every single day, I’m completely out of shape.

“Nah, I could tell you were holding back,” he tells me, he’s only slightly out of breath.

“I was not!” It’s not even a lie, I’ve just gotten that low on stamina. “Those therapy sessions really got you back to- well, you.” I don’t know any better way to word it, but before the accident Nishinoya was exactly like this; full of energy, laughing all the time, joking, teasing and being very competitive. But as soon as we crashed and he found out he got paralyzed, that all seemed to disappear along with the function of his legs. He was tired all the time, emotional and, maybe worst of all, unmotivated to do anything at all.

The Nishinoya that I see now, after he’s got a couple of weeks filled with physical therapy behind him, is a completely different Nishinoya from who he used to be before rehab. Closer to the guy he used to be before the crash happened. That makes me happy.

Nishinoya also seems pretty happy himself, gloating when he says, “And this isn’t even the best part!”

“It isn’t?” Part of me already expected that; he obviously wanted to use to gym for a reason and it won’t be because he’s gotten so fast. He told me little about the fun things he got to do in physical therapy and more about the functional things like getting up a ramp and getting around to house. But going from the expression on his face, he’s also been allowed to do the stuff he really wanted to try.

He wheels himself over to the door, placing the key he’s apparently still got with him, in the lock; all the third-years and some of the second-years had keys on them, but Sugawara, Daichi and I had to give ours back to the school for obvious reasons, I guess the same didn’t happen for Nishinoya. Maybe because he does plan on coming back to school for the most of the year.

There’s a click, followed by the doors opening.

Nishinoya’s already wearing his indoor shoes, but quickly checks to make sure if his wheels are clean before heading inside. I take off my outdoor shoes and take the indoor ones I took with me from my bag. I slide into them, before taking my first proper step into the practice hall.

I’m greeted by the automatic lights popping on as Nishinoya flies through the empty hall. I close my eyes and breathe in the familiar musty smell of linoleum flooring and moist walls. It feels a little like coming home. Just as always the air surrounding me is cold, and yet the air I breathe in feels lukewarm and cozy. It makes me want to run a lap and spike a few balls.

“Asahi!” Everything echoes, especially Nishinoya’s voice. Reaching me loud and clear as day despite him already being on the complete other side of the hall. “Don’t just stand there! Come and help me put up the net!” I look up to see Nishinoya pulling on the big, heavy roll of net. I remember it being tough to put it up when you’re able to use all your strength, but here Nishinoya is, trying to do it with just one hand to lift. The other hand carefully wheels him back and he tries to get it from the stock.

I rush to his aid, making a small sprint towards the other end of the gym. I take it over from Nishoya, afraid he’ll hurt his back trying to take on tough tasks like this. I carry it over to where we need it. And with some trial and error I manage to stretch it between the two poles.

“It needs to be a little lower than that,” Nishinoya says; he’s looking from a distance to see if the net’s the same height as it said it had to be in all the articles he read. Nishinoya said that his physical therapist had never played volleyball before, so when they tried, it was literally sitting and doing stuff with a ball to get the strength in his arms back and get him strong enough to sit up without a backrest. He explained he still needs a back brace for extra stability, but he’s able to sit upright all by himself otherwise. Nishinoya also told me that, in a little over a week, he’s going to start training under the care of a professional sitting volleyball player with an injury alike Nishinoya’s. He’s really excited, because this person will be able to teach him everything there is to know about sitting volleyball.

But he’s clearly been so excited that he already did a deep dive into the game; already knowing which moves he’d like to learn and how big the playfield will be and, as he now shows, how high the net should be for a proper game.

“Is this good?” I ask after lowering it a bit more on both ends.

Nishinoya gives me double thumbs up. “Perfect!” He places his hands on his wheels and gets himself closer to the middle of one side of the court, where he stops. After locking his wheelchair in place, he looks up at me. “I’m going to do some quick stretches before we get started. Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, of course!” Every volleyball player, and other sportplayers, has to stretch before each and every practice session or match. I can only imagine that it’s even more important for Nishinoya to stretch.

I stand there, kind of unsure what to do, so I watch as Nishinoya carefully places his feet on the floor, using his hands to move his legs. He scoots forward and in what appears to be an awfully swift movement, he lowers himself to the ground. I cannot even imagine how much arm-strength that must’ve cost him, so it’s no miracle that, once he’s seated on the ground he’s gasping for air.

Once he’s caught his breath, he looks up at me with a serious expression on his face. For a second I’m afraid something went wrong, but then he snaps in his fingers a few times and says, “Stop staring and start stretching, Asahi!”

“Me? Why?”

“Because you’re going to serve me some balls, of course!” This is a surprise to me. And Nishinoya seems to notice. “Did you really think you could just stand by and watch?”

Yes. “No! Of course not!” I shake my head frantically. After that misunderstanding I get where he’s coming from; with how long I haven’t played, I must be starting to get stiff in my neck and shoulders. It’s best I also stretch, so I start at my arms and shoulders and slowly work down from there.

Every now and then, I glance up at Nishinoya. A smile makes its way onto my face when I see the pure concentration on his face as he’s sitting on the floor, upright all by himself, stretching his legs. He’s got this thick string with a loop at the end with him in his bag, which he got out, so he’s now using that do what looks to be about the same as what I’m doing with my hands. Stretching and holding position.

After ten minutes or so, he puts the string back in his bag. He turns to me and asks if I’m also done.

“Yes!” I quickly finish up the last stretch, before getting to my feet. I walk over to him, not sure what to do now; he’s on the floor, and I think that’s where he wants to be, but if this is where he wants to show me what he learned, his wheelchair will most definitely be in the way.

He seems to notice that too, taking a second to place his bag on the seat of his wheelchair before asking me if I can bring it to the side of the hall. “I don’t need it right now.” He also asks me to get a couple of volleyballs, before ordering me to take a stance on the other side of the net.

It’s clear that he’s been planning this; he wants to show me his new skills as well as he possibly can.

“Are you ready to serve?” he asks me, probably because he sees me standing on the other side of the field, just staring at the ball; I haven’t served in what feels like ages. But for Nishinoya, I’ll try to get him the best serve I’ve ever given; not the hardest, I don’t want to hurt him, but I won’t hold back on him either. I make a plan in my head as for where I’ll be aiming and how I’ll be serving, before saying, “Yes.”

Nishinoya nods once. “Me too! So if you are, just serve, okay?”

“Okay.” I nod to myself. Take a slow breath. A small run and a jump. The ball’s soaring. My hand hits it.

It was a terrible serve. Alright, no it isn’t- it’s an amazing serve for a match where you want to annihilate the other team. A hard smash with a little too much power behind it. I made a terrible serve for these circumstances, but I’m only able to watch as the ball soars to a point that Nishinoya might not reach.

I wince, not wanting to be the cause of a potential impossible receive crushing Nishinoya’s faith.

I can barely even watch, but I know I have to. Following the ball with my heart racing in my chest.

It’s falling, coming for him. He has to be quick if he wants to get it, but he’s not moving. He can’t move from his place too much, so maybe he already saw that the ball was going to be impossible to receive and he gave up. For a second, I actually believe that.

But then Nishinoya suddenly moves. Just like always, the last moment’s what does it for him. In just one fraction of a second he makes what appear to be a dozen things to get the ball away from the ground; with one hand, he pushes his left leg towards the other, getting himself in a laying position. He stretches out his arm and scoops with his fist underneath the ball just before it hits the ground, sending it flying back into the air. This would’ve been a perfect Libero action in any match. Flawless, if you ask me. What’s even better, there’s a proud smile on his face the entire time.

A loud, “Yes!” escapes from his mouth as soon as he realizes he’s done it. He received a tough ball.

It reminds me of the first time playing with Nishinoya; he’s a natural when it comes to volleyball, born with raw talent for receiving. And I was afraid that he had lost it, since he can’t run and dive and scoop and rolling thunder or whatever he does that makes him such an amazing Libero, but I was wrong. He’s still got it. With a receive like that, without any proper practice in this new version of the game yet, he’s got me in awe. He’s still got it. And with that knowledge, I’m positive that I’ll see him playing in a real sitting volleyball match in no time at all, probably gleaming with pride as he takes his team to victory.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Daichi Sawamura
Wednesday, 09:08

I video-call my mom just an a few hours after my first check-up of the day. They did more than usual, asking me many more questions and even taking me up for a scan, which honestly made me worried.

The fact that Dr Hitsujikai comes back to my room not too long after having taken me through a thorough physical and mental exam, explaining that he wants to have a talk with me and my mother, makes my heart pulse even more rapidly.

I thought things were going better, but then suddenly doing things so different during my morning routine gives me the vibe that not everything might be okay. I’ve heard a traumatic brain injury can suddenly give you a set-back, even get worse as time passes. But I don’t want that. The thought of it being able to happen is already bad enough. I can’t have them tell me that that’s what’s going on.

“Is it something bad?” I ask Dr Hitsujikai, just as we’re about to start the call with my mom. “Because if it’s something bad, I’d like to tell mom that- you know, that she should brace herself.”

Dr Hitsujikai calmly smiles and promises, “It’s not bad news, but I do think it’s time to talk about it.”

I nod once, even though I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean. If it’s not bad news, then why is it so urgent? Why can’t we just have this meeting with mom on Saturday, when she’s here; last week she had Suga with her, who looked terrible by the way. When I asked him what happened to his face, he just shrugged and told me he’d tell me some other time. That, on top of the knowledge that he’s apparantly staying at my home says enough; I have a feeling I know what happened, but I understand why he wouldn’t want to talk about it in front of my family if that’s the case.

But back to my point; if he’s here next weekend, he could take the kids to a playground or something, in the meantime. Mom and I could have this important conversation Dr Hitsujikai’s so eager to have face to face, but Dr Hitsujikai wants to do it right now.

So, we start the video call with mom, who immediately wants to know what the news is. She looks just about as concerned as I feel when she says, “Don’t tell me it’s bad news.” She’s also growing tired of it.

“No.” Dr Hitsujikai shakes his head and, yet again, promises it’s not bad news. “I just wanted to talk about something, especially after seeing how he’s been doing lately.”

“How I’ve been doing lately?” I ask, curious after all the exams we did this morning. How am I doing?

“Yes.” Dr Hitsujikai takes a look at my chart, glancing over it before looking at me. “The reports coming back from your therapy sessions are sounding like you’re healing up well, growing stronger with each day. The cognitive exam you took yesterday came back nearly flawless, suggesting the brain injury had little to no impact on your cognitive skills. And your physical exam, while the impact of your TBI was big and the deficits are severe when it comes to your motor skills, went surprisingly well, too. Considering where we were six weeks ago, that is.” He pauses to scan over the chart again. “Your brain scans look very good as well; no new bleeds and no more swelling whatsoever. On top of that, you’re young and healthy,” Dr Hitsujikai explains to me. He puts down the chart and calmly tells me, “What I’m saying is, there’s no reason for us to not start considering discharging you, soon.” His eyes are gentle and kind when he adds, “I’m talking, preferably the start of next week, soon.”

Hence to why it couldn’t wait. I immediately know.

My eyes grow big with excitement. “Are you serious? That’s-“ A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, I let out a small chuckle when I realize I was terrified of hearing this news. “That’s amazing!”

I turn to the laptop standing on the seat beside my bed to see mom has got her hands wrapped in front of her mouth, tears in her eyes. “He’s coming home?” she whispers, probably to herself.

Dr Hitsujikai isn’t smiling, though. His lips are pressed together as he slowly walks over to the side of my bed. He takes a seat on a chair beside it, so he’s on the same level as mom and me when he says, “That’s what I wanted to talk with you about.” He looks from me to mom, and back to me.

“About what?” I carefully ask him, my voice shaking a little because of his serious tone. This is close to how he sounded when I’d just woken up from my coma and he had to tell mom about the uncertainty of my future. Is this the same case? Are there “but”s, just when I thought we were past that?

“About your long-term plan for the future,” he replies. “Including care and going home.”

“What do you mean, exactly?” mom asks him. “His long term plan?”

“Well, of course Daichi will first be going to an inpatient centre that has a service for rehabilitation specialized in traumatic brain injury care, like he needs,” Dr Hitsujikai begins. “The team of specialist there, will teach you and the rest of Daichi’s family how to give him the care and support he needs from you and your family. He will probably be inpatient for four to six weeks, estimated, before starting outpatient care and rehabilitation. That should give you enough time to make proper plans about the necessary changes in the house for when he comes home.” Dr Hitsujikai pauses, looking at me before turning back to mom. “My question is, whether you’re planning for him to come home?”

“Whether?” Mom shakes her head. “I don’t understand; I thought he’d just go to a rehabilitation centre and come home-“ She stammers. “D-Do you suggest something else, then?”

I agree with her, that’s what I thought would be happening, at least. That was the case for Nishinoya, and probably for Kageyama too, once he’s done with rehab. They both will return home. But I can see in Dr Hitsujikai’s serious frown that it’s different in my case. Of course it’s different in my case; I’m not paralyzed from the waist down like Nishinoya, or an amputee like Kageyama. They were both still somewhat self-sufficient, even when they’d just gotten here.

Not me, though.

My situation has been completely different from theirs, right from the beginning. From the moment that my brain started swelling and I had a seizure and lost consciousness only to wake up unable to do anything. From that moment on, my life became different from everyone else’s.

Still, I always thought it was an obvious thing I’d go home after rehabilitation as well.

But I can tell by the way Dr Hitsujikai takes a slow breath through clenched teeth, he’s about to remind me it’s not obvious at all. “I wouldn’t say I suggest anything over the other by default; it’s not my choice to make. Taking him home would come with it’s pros, defenitely, especially for Daichi’s mental health. But it also comes with some difficulties.” He pauses, and for a moment it’s so silent that I can hear the intense throbbing of blood pulsing in my ears. When he speaks again, it almost startles me. “I know this is a tough question, but it’s one I need to ask you, miss Sawamura; what is your long-term plan when it comes to Daichi’s care?” Another complete silence follows. “Are you going to take care of him? Or are you going to contract a professional caretaker? Is he coming home or would a caring facility be better suited for him? Those are questions to ask yourself.”

But she hasn’t asked herself these questions. So, she doesn’t know. I think to myself, closing my eyes shortly. I wish she knew- Hell, I wish I knew.

But we don’t even know what a long-term plan for me would look like; it’s just been short-term plans until now, because until a little while ago, it would be a surprise if I made it to the next day without my brain starting to swell again, or me getting a stroke or seizures, or my progress regressing. We didn’t even dare to dream of making long-term plans, because for all we knew they could suddenly have to be drastically changed or even cancelled the next day. But now that’s off the table; sure, I can still get a sudden setback, but according to the full check-up Dr Hitsujikai had me go through this morning, I am healthy. And healing. And in need of a long-term plan.

But no one can give him the answer.

Not me. Not my mom. And Dr Hitsujikai, while he probably knows the most, isn’t allowed to make the it for us.

“You don’t need to make a choice right now,” he says when no one speaks for a couple of seconds, maybe even a minute. He pauses briefly before calmly explaining the reason of asking us this question, right here and right now. “We’re planning on discharging Daichi in just a couple of days.” He speaks to mom, probably because she’s a grownup and she’ll have to upper hand in helping me decide on a long-term plan, whatever that may be. “He doesn’t need our acute care anymore, and will be headed to a rehabilitation centre, hopefully by next week. I know you are a loving, close family and taking him home will probably be preferred by you, as a mother.”

Mom nods, but her eyes are still filled with tears. She can, just like me, feel the “but” coming.

“But as his doctor I have to inform you that there are also wonderful nursing facilities and supported living centers that provide the rehabilitation and care Daichi needs. Places that can give him a little apartment to call home, with caregivers who can give him all the support and care he needs, while also letting him be as independent as he can. With this option comes that he could start his rehabilitation there as soon as he’s discharged here.” He looks at mom, and then at me, both of us staring at him with large eyes. “It wouldn’t hurt to visit some of them over the course of this week, even if you’re not certain of your choice yet, to see if supported living might be a plausible option for the both of you.”

“But I am certain of my choice,” mom says and she sounds determined. I’m not sure it makes me feel relieved, or just worries me more. Dr Hitsujikai’s not mentioning this to frighten her, I know that; he only states facts and gives opinions in the best interest of me and mom and my family. But then why is he suggesting supported living as an option, when we never mentioned wanting that?

Mom shakes her head and tells him, “I want to take my son home once he’s done with rehabilitation.”

Dr Hitsujikai leans forward a little, locking his hands together in his lap. He nods slowly. “I understand that, miss Sawamura. And if you end up making that choice, we will support it. But I can only let you make that decision if you have all the information and you are fully aware of what you are deciding.”

Mom swallows so loud, even the terrible mic of her old laptop picks it up. “Alright.”

“Alright, I’m going to be entirely objective with you. Okay?” Dr Hitsujikai gives us a heads up, probably because he’s aware that he usually comes across as pretty harsh when he’s being objective, waiting for mom and me to nod before he starts explaining what we need to know. “For a long term plan, you have to keep in mind that things won’t return to normal after Daichi gets back from rehabilitation.”

We knew that. It’s not a surprise, but it remains hard to hear.

“He will most certainly still be wheelchair-bound for the time being, so your home must be accessible for Daichi. I’m not just talking about wheelchair ramps and making the rooms clutter-free and easy get around. There’s more to making a house wheelchair accessible than just that.” He stands up to get out a list, and once he’s seated again, he reads through it and explains, “A wheelchair is wider than the average person, so it’s important that doors are at least eighty-one centimeters wide and the hallways at least ninety-one centimeters so he can fit through with his wheelchair. The lighting needs to be adjusted so it doesn’t hurt his eyes. The floors have to be slip resistant, easy to maintain and, of course, easy to maneuver around in a wheelchair. And finally, if your house has multiple floors, you’ll have to consider making his bedroom ground level or installing a chairlift.” He puts away the paper and turns to mom. “I’m not saying that it’s impossible, I’ve seen many of our patients and their family do it, but even if the government will help you pay for some of these changes, you will have to keep in mind that these changes will take time and cost a lot of money nonethless.”

Dr Hitsujikai looks at mom and me. He remains quiet, giving us a moment to think or say something.

I have a thousand questions, I think, but none of them are forming into words. I’m just so shocked; I never even considered what it would be like to make a house wheelchair accessible. Nishinoya didn’t mention anything about it, probably because his house is a pretty big and all on one level, add some ramps and it should be fairly easy to get around. Our house is small, it doesn’t even tick half of the boxes, and even with the help of the government, I don’t know if it’s possible to ever make it fully accessible for me. Which would mean that we’d have to move and I don’t think the money mom has left after paying bills and taking care of five children will make enough to buy a brand new house and make it wheelchair accessible.

When I glance at the laptop, I see that mom’s determination is starting to fade away. She looks pale and shaky, probably also just now realizing that this is much bigger than just me.

“And even if your house is fully accessible, taking Daichi back home will come with its challenges,” Dr Hitsujikai continues, his voice not straying away from that endless calmth of his. “Despite him getting stronger with each day, it could take him up to years before he’s independent enough that he can perform basic daily activities by himself. Until then, he will be relying on around the clock care.” He pauses, giving us a moment to take that in. “From what I understood, miss Sawamura, you are a single mother of four other young children beside Daichi. Right?”

Mom nods slowly.

Dr Hitsujikai nods understandingly. His eyes are sympathetic when he glances at me, before turning back to mom. “Think about them too; Daichi’s care is going to take a lot of your time and attention away from them too.”

A careful sob sounds from mom’s mouth. I’m too shocked to cry.

“I know it’s a terrible decision to make, but I’m going to have to ask you to really consider whether taking Daichi home is an option for your family; financially, physically and emotionally.” His eyes are sympathetic when he reminds us about the supported living centers again. “I’m certain there are wonderful ones near your hometown, and they’re a great alternative if taking him back home turns out not to be an option in the end.” He pauses shortly before adding, “Whichever decision you decide to make, whether it’s taking Daichi home or searching for a nursing facility nearby, for the time being, we will be here to guide you through everything that comes with that choice. But I cannot decide for you.”

I open my mouth, but I’m too dumbstruck to say anything.

Besides that, it doesn’t feel like my choice to make; I might be eighteen, but I still live in my childhood house. A house that belongs to my mother and my family, it’s up to them to decide what’s best for them. What’s possible for them. But mom doesn’t seem to know the answer either.

“I-“ Is all she manages to whisper, before whimpers start making it out of her mouth. She wraps her hands in front of her mouth and turns away from the screen, probably trying to not show me how heartbreaking this news is to her. She, too, was looking forward to having me home again. And now she learned that that might not be an option in the end.

I wish I could wrap my arms around her and hug her and tell her it’ll be alright; we got through the hardest part, we’ll get through this too. Right? I hope so, at least.

Dr Hitsujikai takes a slow breath before rising to his feet. “Take your time, I don’t need an answer straight away, it’s a big decision. Give yourself some time to think about it, you too Daichi, think about what you would prefer as well. I’m going to give you some time alone so you can talk about it in peace. Take some days to research, look up some things, weigh your options. And then we can revisit the subject Saturday, when you’re here again.” He gives us a polite nod, before making his way out of the room, leaving mom and me with just the two of us. Accompanied by a dreadful silence.

I stare at the white wall in front of me for what feels like hours before finally asking, “Now what?”

“Now what?” mom repeats, her voice just as shocked as mine. “I didn’t think-“ Her cheeks are red and tearstained when I glance over to her. “I can’t make this choice for you, Daichi.” She shakes her head.

I get exactly where she’s coming from; it feels like a choice I cannot make either.

“I don’t know how to.”

I shake my head slowly, tears welling up in my eyes as I try to wrap my head around everything Dr Hitsujikai just told me. Trying to adjust my way of thinking, because it was naïve; less than a week ago, I was shouting at Suga that this was going to take ages, if not forever, for me to get back from. How did I not consider the fact that this would also mean this injury might make going home really hard?

I should’ve known.

Because while each little improvement has felt like a whole new world of abilities opening up before me, I have always known that in the grand scheme of things, I’m still completely dependent of others; nurses help me clean myself and dress in the morning and undress in the evening. They help me exercise all my muscles multiple times a day before they put on my braces. They suction my trach-tube four or more times each day, feed me through a feeding tube four times a day each feeding-session lasting up to twenty minutes. And that’s just considering basic human needs. On top of that I need to be repositioned every two hours so my blood keeps flowing and I don’t get bedsores and it’s preferred that I get taken outside for a walk for at least twenty minutes every day to make sure I get fresh air, get out of bed and I don’t get a vitamin D deficiency, stuff like that. I need to be taken to and from rehabilitation sessions, probably also almost daily for the next months, years even.

And that’s still only looking at the daily care I need; I should be bed-bathed two times a week, my catheter needs to be changed weekly, my bedding should be changed regularly, and so much more just comes on top of that. None of which, I can do by myself. In theory, after watching my nurses do it so often, I probably could. But practically, I’m not even close to mobile enough for the bigger tasks like putting on clothes without help. As for the smaller ones, like tube-feeding myself or suctioning the trach, my hands are just too unsteady and shaky for precise work like that.

That basically means that, as Dr Hitsujikai already mentioned, with me being home mom will end up having to care for me almost twenty-four seven. This, leaving her with no time to go to work and my siblings having little to no time with mom at all since she’ll be constantly looking after me even on just the regular days, where I’m as healthy as I am today. I don’t even dare to think of the many days that I’ll get sick with something my siblings bring home from school, knowing I’ll definitely be in danger for infections or pneumonia, and might even need to be hospitalized again when it comes to that.

So, no matter how much I hate the thought of having to go to a nursing facility, where my care will be treated like yet another bullet point on the list of many tasks to complete that workday, I think it’s for the best. Because if I go home, I’ll put a burden on my family that’ll send them under.

I look up at mom with tears in my eyes, my voice shaking and chest jolting as I hold back sobs. The words I want to say leave my mouth, but it feels like I’m having an out of body experience causing everything to feel and sound a bit surreal when I tell her she won’t have to make that choice. “I’m not coming home.” I shake my head. “I can’t-” A tear falls down my cheek. “I can’t put that burden on you.”

With those words I end our call, only to fall apart the second the connection breaks. I scream into my blanket until I run out of breath and cry until my tears run dry. The only question I want answered being one that no one will be able to answer for me; why is this happening to me? Why me?

To be continued…

Chapter Text

The oldest sister “Kid” Sawamura
Thursday, Friday, Saturday

“It is possible that Daichi might not be coming home again.” That was the big news mom gathered us all at the dinner table for last Wednesday. She’d been hiding out in her bedroom for about an hour, maybe more, since we got home from school. When she called us over to the dinner table, she sounded hoarse and her eyes were red. She’d been crying, no doubt.

Once I heard the news, I couldn’t blame her for doing so. Tears welled up in my eyes and I couldn’t remain seated at the table after the words left her mouth. I ran to my room, holding a long scream-session into my pillow, before the initial anger had finally left my body. Mom left me alone to cry for about an hour, she probably knew that we, just like her, needed some time to adjust to the thought alone. And around dinner time, she came to ask if I felt up to eating something.

During dinner, no one mentioned Daichi. Not one of us, not me and not Suga, who’s been staying over at ours for the past week or so. None of us mentioned the news mom had told us either.

We just all sat there, teary-eyed, even my youngest sibling who I swear only now starts to understand the severity of the situation, was silently choking back tears as she played with her stew.

After that, everyone went back to their own business in silence; the youngest two watched some television and, because my twelve-year-old brother is struggling with homework and usually would ask Daichi for help, Suga suggested that he’d take a look at it. Under the statement that he had better end-grades than Daichi. Honestly, as someone who was always helped by Daichi with elementary school homework, don’t think that’s too weird. Daichi might’ve not been the best at everything, but I could tell that my twelve-year-old brother kind of missed the choppy way of Daichi’s tutoring.

I was helping mom dry the dishes she’d cleaned, also in silence. Or at least, until I finally asked her the question that’d been bothering me since she’d shared the news. “Why is he not coming home?”

Mom told me she wasn’t certain, she hadn’t made her mind up about it yet. “But if Daichi does come home, a lot is going to change over here. He’s still got a long way to go before he’s all healed up again, and until then he’ll probably need more care than your youngest sibling. I won’t have any time to give attention to you four,” she explains. “On top of that, I don’t know if I have the budget to support the choice of him coming home.” This is something mom had said before, when we wanted to buy clothes that didn’t fit into our tight budget, but I didn’t think she’d use it for a moment like this.

“But you’re not going to let him go to a nursing home because of that, right?” I didn’t understand what she was trying to say; of course things were going to change, they already had, but just not allowing our brother to come back home because of that? That’d be stupid. Terribly stupid.

“I’m not sure yet, dear. I hope I won’t have to.” Tears filled up mom’s eyes when she admitted that Daichi seemed to have his mind made up, though. He’d apparently told her that he wasn’t coming home. Not if it’d have such a huge impact on our lives. “He doesn’t want to be a burden to us, you know how he is-“ But that was bullshit. Utter bullshit. I physically felt myself getting mad again as I realized that he wasn’t even doing this for his own sake. He was doing this for us. Which was nonsense.

It kept me awake all night, thinking about how he wouldn’t have ever agreed to going to a nursing home if it hadn’t been for us. If he could’ve come home and not feel like a burden to us, he probably would’ve done everything to come home again, because despite our broken family he loves it here. He doesn’t even deny it; when mom asked him what he’d be doing after he graduated, when his exams had just began, he mentioned wanting to start looking for a job. Maybe start a study in a couple of years after earning some money. None of his plans involved him moving out.

He loves our family. And now he had made the choice to leave it behind, making it even more broken.

It made me furious at first, but after lying awake all night I got inspired by the following knowledge; Daichi had made up his mind, only because he didn’t want to place burden on our family, a feeling we probably could easily dismiss with the power of family-hood. It were mom’s worries about money, time and the house that made me want to set up a plan that could dismiss all of them. It had to be fool-proof, and quickly put together, since mom didn’t take long to start going by the nearby nursing homes and supported living facilities. I’d seen the printed list of places she was going to visit before Saturday, lying on the table when I got downstairs Thursday morning. All of them had a review and she’d scribbled down questions in the sideline. The one with the most stars, and thus the biggest potential to be a good match, was a group home a forty minute drive away from Miyagi. The closest supported living centre, which according to mom’s notes was preferred, was much further away.

This made me want to set my plan into action even faster.

It took some courage, but I ended up waking Suga to ask him if he could help me fake an absence declaration for my classes Thursday and Friday, after mom left to bring my youngest siblings to school. I needed all the time I could get, my grades could suffer of it, but nothing would be worse than having my brother living in a supported living centre far away from us. Of course he wanted to know why; was I really feeling sick or did I have a different reason? I decided to tell him about the housing options, far away, and asked him if he could help me put my plan together.

Before mom got home, we went outside to brainstorm about our options, staying away from home until mom had officially left for the day; she’d be trying to visit as many of the caring homes on Thursday and Friday. Hoping to be able to help Daichi make a choice on Saturday.

And Suga and me? We planned to gather all the information to keep Daichi here; me with the need to get my brother back home, where I really started to feel lost without his constant teasing and brotherly care, and Suga wanting the best for his best friend. Both of us knew a caring home wasn’t the place for Daichi; it was a place where old people went to sit out their time until they died, not a place for a young, previously active and healthy guy to sit and shrivel away as he’d sit out the years he still has.

Once we had the house to ourselves, Suga used his good-grades-at-graduation-skills to find the best articles that would show mom the positive side of getting Daichi back into our house and writing down the finances. I, meanwhile, focussed on seeing how and where we could make our house wheelchair accessible. I spend all afternoon watching informational videos and going down checklists to see how close our home came. I admit, it’s far from perfect.

In the end, we couldn’t decide on whether it would be a better choice to aim at getting our house wheelchair accessible or just browsing for an entirely new house. I called uncle Kaito to ask him his opinion on which option we should work out for mom, since he’s a grown up and has bought a house recently. At first he was a little confused, but when I told him that it was important because Daichi might be taken away from us, he immediately said he would look into it. Later that evening, we got a full chart of numbers; to me it made little to no sense, but maybe to mom it will. I only understood the little note uncle Kaito had written at the bottom, saying that our house could probably be rebuild into a fully wheelchair accessible home, but that this is a good year when it comes to prices for an entirely new house as well. And that whatever she decided to do after seeing these numbers, that he would be willing to help her out and even lend her some money if the bank wouldn’t. “You’re not letting your first-born get taken away from you by something as stupid as financial difficulties. Promise me that!”  he’d written below. All I could do was hope that mom would listen.

We spend quite some time printing out the full report, only having it all printed just a few minutes before we were about to head to Tokyo. I was planning on giving it to mom on Friday evening, making sure that she was on board with it before telling Daichi our plan, but I was still making little changes. But it’s perfect now, so I step into the car, not having told mom or my other siblings about the plan, but with full confidence anyway.

Now, five hours later, my heart in racing. Nervousness rushes through me as we make our way up the hospital’s stairs, towards Daichi’s room. I can feel the packet of paper burning in my backpack, and every thought I have is about how badly I want this to work. I need it to work.

I need to change both mom’s and Daichi’s mind. Or else I will lose my older brother.

We walk into the room to be greeted by Daichi’s hoarse voice. He doesn’t only sound like he has been crying for the past days, he also looks the part. His cheeks are red and his eyes bloodshot.

He’s clearly not happy with the choice he forced himself to make.

The choice he won’t have to make.

“Hey, how are you all!” He smiles so wide. So fake. It’s not often that I can tell that he’s pretending, but today is one of those few times. “I’m so happy to see you!” He cuddles our younger siblings once they reach the edge of his bed, already ready to climb in. He also smiles at Suga when he takes a seat beside his bed. I remain on the other side of the room, wondering when the right moment to present my plan will come.

Moments pass. All hazy because of my nervousness.

A knock on the door startles me from my thoughts. When I look up at Daichi, I see that his eyes glance over to mom and his expression grows so grim. Mom’s eyes are sad too, when she lays her hand on his and strokes the back of his hand with her finger. “I love you,” she promises, probably because she doubts he’ll remember that after they make a choice that’ll change both of their lives for the worse.

“Love you too, mom,” Daichi promises her, with a slight nod.

Not a second after that passes, before Daichi’s doctor comes walking inside, a sympathetic look on his face when he catches a whiff of the dreary mood in this room. He’s the one who placed this idea in their head; before that, they were both planning to get Daichi back home. I’m sure.

I follow him with my gaze as he walks over to the end of Daichi’s bed. He asks them if they’re ready, the answer is clearly “no”, but mom tells him they are before turning to Suga. “Could you help me by taking the kids to run outside for a bit, we’ll be done-“ Her voice falters. “We’ll call.”

Suga listens and gets up, obviously, because he knows he’s the only one that is certainly not allowed to be in the room as they make that decision. It’s family only. And apparently parent and son only.

As Suga and the kids pass me, Suga whispers, “It’s time.”

I nod. Whispering back, “Wait here, okay?”. He and my siblings stop in front of the door. I take a step forward. “Before we go,” I say, my voice barely loud enough to overpower the doctor’s strong voice. “Is it possible that I present a plan, regarding the decision they’re about to make?”

The doctor looks at me, then at Daichi and my mother, who nod. He smiles gently and says, “Of course, take as long as you need. I’ll be outside if-“

“You can stay,” I tell him. “I don’t mind.”

I take off my backpack and pull out the packet of paper. It’s at least thirty pieces of paper, if not more. And cradle it against my chest as I calmly walk over to Daichi’s bed. My heart slams up against the pages, making a loud sound in my ears. My hands shake as I give it to Daichi.

He carefully takes it from me, not yet looking at it when he asks, “What is it?”

“Just read.”

I stand there in silence as he and mom look at the first page, both with confused looks on their faces. Then they scan over the next and the next and the next. It takes mom a few pages until she realizes what this is. “Tables with finances, house plans, articles on the pros of living at home as a disabled person-“ She looks up at me. “Are these arguments for why Daichi should come back home?”

I nod once.

She smiles, tears in her eyes.

But Daichi’s not smiling. His breathing is fast.

“I made my choice-“ The words his mouth says differ from the ones his heart is wanting him to say; he doesn’t want to go to a caring facility. He’s not the person for that. That’s probably why there are tears in his eyes when he says, “I’m not going home so I can ruin your lives. I don’t want that-”

“But you won’t ruin our lives,” I tell him. “If you leave, that would ruin our lives.”

He averts his eyes to the sky and shakes his head. “Please, don’t do this-“

But I do do that; I do try to push him to make the choice we all already know will be best for him. Right then and there, right in front of Daichi, I decide we’ll have to vote, just so we can use it as an argument for why Daichi needs to come back home. Not because mom needs more convincing, I think we had her as soon as we presented our plan. No, it is Daichi, who needs one final push, I think.

“So, who wants our big brother to come back home?” I ask, already raising my hand high.

Up my siblings’ hands go, and mom’s and Suga’s; it’s obvious that we all want- need Daichi back home, even if that will change our lives completely.

I look at Daichi, shrugging and saying, “We need you, Daichi.”

“Yes!” my sister agrees. “For hugs!”

“And homework.”

“And for playing games.”

I chuckle, even though I know that these arguments are not what’s going to get Daichi’s mind changed, but that’s why I wrote the plan. All the facts are on those pieces of paper, and that’s why I can tell him, from the bottom of my heart my own personal view on this. “You’re a butthead, you know?” I start off, because like I said, my personal view. “Just trying to leave our family behind. It’s a disgrace that you would even consider it.” He looks a little shocked, his eyes large. “We don’t care about the fact that our lives will be different. And we’d gladly help out mom with your care from time to time; I’m fourteen, I know how to do that, and I bet the others would learn it too over time. And you won’t be a burden to any of us, don’t even think that.” I pause, my throat making this high pitched whimper when I beg him, “Please, Daichi. Do not leave us, not when we all know dead-well that you want to come home.”

I stare at Daichi, my big brother stares back at me. There are tears rolling over his cheeks and his lips are trembling as he parts them. “A-Are you serious about this?” He glances from me, to the others, to mom. When he’s looking at mom, he asks, “Are you okay with this?”

Mom nods, no second-thought given to it. “Of course I am.” She looks at me and mouths “thank you”, before turning back to Daichi. “If you’re also okay with it, that is. You’re eighteen, it’s up to you.”

Daichi blinks slowly, tears dripping from his eyes. A small smile forms onto his face when he tells us, “After rehabilitation, I would love to return home if you’ll have me.” His smile grows even bigger when a collective “yes!” echoes through the room.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Kiyoko Shimizu
Monday, 18:00

Today, we gather together in front of Miyagi's rehabilitation centre. Not because we’re visiting someone, but because we’re going through our evidence today. In less than one more day, exactly seventeen hours, until Takeda will answer to the court. It's obviously the plan that we win from Yachi's mother, and as absurd as it may sound to any outsider, Yachi's on our side. This probably gives us a bit of a head start, but we don't want to leave anything up to fate. That’s why we met up today.

It's pretty chilly outside, but it was the only place to meet up.

Kageyama and Daichi are inpatient here and actually aren't allowed to leave unsupervised. For today, they have been granted be out front without a supervisor, because it was either allowing that or nine other people to come inside and possibly trash the place for all they knew.

Tanaka, Yachi and I are the first to arrive at the rehabilitation centre, sitting down on the benches out front. It's not a bad place, I think; the place looks cozy despite its pretty large size.

The big automatic doors open and with the light in the hallway backlighting the small group of people coming out it takes us a second to see whether it's people we know. It could be anyone; almost everyone here uses crutches or a wheelchair. But after squinting against the light and seeing one of the shadows wave at us, we know for sure. One of the shouts, “Hey, guys!” The red of his curls becoming even clearer once they cross the small distance between us and the entrance.

Hinata went to the rehabilitation centre right after school today, according to Yachi and Tanaka, who both went home to eat something before heading over here. He walks a lot smoother and his crutch is nowhere to be seen as he pushes Kageyama towards us in his wheelchair. I haven’t visited Kageyama, but I have noticed that he turns on his camera a lot more often during out video calls lately. That’s why it isn’t as much of a surprise to see that his skin is healing well. After seeing it a couple of times on video, it’s actually not that strange anymore. What does look weird are the thick, black sunglasses that sit on his face and the cap on his head, despite it being pretty cloudy out today.

Beside them, there’s another duo of people walking. Daichi’s seated in his wheelchair, which makes a buzzing electrical sound as a small motor helps him move forward without any help from Sugawara. The last time I have seen both of them has been a while ago. I heard that Sugawara has apparently been back in Miyagi for a couple of days, but Daichi has only arrived very late yesterday.

Daichi appears to be doing well, smiling wide and regaining a bit of movement back in the weaker side of his face as well. I can’t say the same for Sugawara, who looks like he’s been in a fight.

Tanaka seems to notice it too, because as soon as they’re close enough, he says, “Suga, man, what happened to your face? You look miserable!” There are more polite ways to say that, though.

Sugawara frowns lightly, almost as if he forgot that his entire cheek is a bit swollen en very bruised until he reaches up to it and his fingers touch his skin. “Oh-“ His eyes go dark, but his mouth smiles. “It’s nothing. Just a little accident while-“ His voice falters, he chuckles nervously.

Daichi looks up at Sugawara, a sympathetic knowing look on his face. They meet eyes and Sugawara smiles back and nods once, almost as if silently telling Daichi that he knows he knows. I don’t know what exactly he knows, but it doesn’t seem to be what Sugawara just told us.

I’ll try not to worry about them. But I probably will ask about it someday, when a little less is going on.

Fortunately the rest also seems to notice that now might not be the time. Especially since more and more people will be joining us in no time; when I turn away from Daichi, Sugawara, Hinata and Kageyama, I already see Asahi and Nishinoya making their way out of the bus.

Asahi looks just as awkward as usual, making his body small as he clumsily helps Nishinoya make his way out of the public transportation. There’s this small lift that gets lowered to the ground, and as soon as it touches the pavement, Nishinoya takes it as a start sign for him to race Asahi towards us.

Nishinoya wins, by just a second. Asahi’s completely out of breath.

“You really need to work on your stamina, Asahi!” Nishinoya tells Asahi while he’s placing his wheelchair on the other side of the bench from where Kageyama and Daichi are sitting. Just when we’re about to say “hi” and get an update on how they’ve been doing, we spot the two last people in the distance. It’s a miracle to me, and probably to the others too, but after weeks of not hearing a thing from him, Tsukishima’s showing up to our meet today. He’s got one arm linked around Yamaguchi and in the other hand he carries a cane that he swings from left to right.

Yamaguchi hadn’t given us any updates on Tsukishima’s health yet, despite having been over to Tsukishima’s for a couple of times by now. He said he wanted Tsukishima to tell it to us himself. Now, he doesn’t need to tell us, though; we all can see that in the end his sight didn’t return.

“We’re here,” Yamaguchi tells Tsukishima when they’re nearing us. Probably because we’re all so silent, staring at the two of them, that Tsukishima wouldn’t know that we’re here. “I’m going to lead you to the bench, okay?”

“You know you don’t have to say everything you do, right?” Tsukishima asks Yamaguchi, his voice just as not amused as always. But once Yamaguchi calmly helps Tsukishima find a seat on the bench, he deserves a small “thank you” from Tsukishima, which proves that Tsukishima does appreciate the help.

“Hi guys,” he says, almost shyly, when he sits down. His eyes stare into the distance, away from us. Unlike when we were still in the forest, he’s not even trying to hide it anymore. “So- uhm, I’m sorry.”

“No apologies, bro!” Tanaka tells him, ruffling Tsukishima’s unruly curls. “We’re glad you’re back!”

Tsukishima winces at the sudden touch. Grumbling a “me too” before pushing away Tanaka’s hand.

“So, do you have the evidence?” Yamaguchi asks me once he has sat himself down as well.

I was in charge of printing it, since they have a printer at my work; I work at a sports store as a cashier and they always have the printer ready for when orders come in and to print invoices. I still have to figure out how it exactly works, since it’s actually a lot bigger and complicated than the small printers some of our teachers at school would have us use. But despite the struggle of printing out a big document, I managed to get out full evidence report in writing.

I nod, taking the map I put it in so it wouldn’t crease out of my bag. “I also mailed it to mister Ukai yesterday when we just finished it, he would look at it and take it past mister Takeda’s lawyer,” I tell the group while getting the packet of paper out of the map.

Everyone watches me as I lift it out of it and put it down on my lap.

“Whoa,” Tanaka whispers, nodding. “That’s nearly six weeks of work.” He sounds proud, probably because he never spend that much time on one thing; I swear the guy just copies and pastes his sister’s homework whenever he needs to write more than fifty words. But when it came to gathering evidence to proof Takeda innocent, Tanaka was one of the people who worked the hardest.

“Six weeks?” Daichi takes a slow breath, for a second I think he’s pretty impressed, but then he chuckles and says, “You should’ve asked my little sister to help you with gathering evidence, she could’ve done it faster” He smiles, and Sugawara chuckles, almost like they’re having an inside joke that no one else knows about. But then he looks up and explains that the only reason why he’s here now is because his sister made a full report of arguments and evidence that proved that Daichi should come home again. A big plan that only took her about two days to make, which is absolutely insane.

Apparently there had been a whole ordeal about whether he would be returning home again after rehabilitation, even moments where he thought he would be going to a supported living centre quite a bit away from Miyagi. “But all those plans were wiped off the table by my sister’s evidence.”

“Whoa- she must be really good then!” Hinata says.

I didn’t know, he hadn’t told us. We all just got a message in the group chat yesterday, telling us that Daichi was coming back home to Miyagi, just in time for Takeda’s lawsuit. But because he hasn’t been close to us before, he wasn’t able to help gather the evidence that proves Takeda to be innocent. But he’s not the only one who hears this for the first time; Tsukishima hasn’t heard any of it yet and the same goes for Yachi, who couldn’t join our calls about it because we couldn’t risk her mother overhearing us. This makes that in this group we have a few people who know a lot and a few people who can decide whether our arguments are actually good ones. It’s perfect.

Despite everything we have to talk about one day, maybe during another reunion, since we haven’t been with all of us together in what feels like ages, but we all know that there’s business to be done.

Because even though most of our evidence will be presented by a lawyer. But we, the people that were involved and the most affected by the accident, also play a big part in whether Takeda will or won’t have to pay a lot of money. We will be there as his official wittnesses. So, we go through all the pieces of paper, seeing who needs to keep what evidence and arguments in mind. For instance, Hinata can confirm that it was pitch black on the road, since he was an eye-witness. We also found evidence to support this; news articles talking about various other accidents that have happened in that same spot, none as serious as ours, but all of them caused by the low-light situation. Nishinoya himself has decided that he wants to talk about the fact that he wasn’t wearing his seatbelt; despite us telling him that he didn’t have to do that, he puts himself at blame for his injury. Ukai already told us he’ll do the same; he also wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, and he was standing when it happened. Just like that we all have our own arguments often times supported by our factual research. This will help us during the lawsuit, but we also know that Yachi’s mother has got a lawyer, one who probably won’t shy away from foul tricks and harsh comments to make sure Yachi’s mother gets her money. So, on top of factual our research, we’ll just have to give it our all.

We need to get the following point across, because Takeda won’t do it; he won’t give it his all, because he blames himself. But we are all on Takeda’s side for a reason. That reason being that, while he might’ve been driving, we don’t blame him for what happened to us.

We could never, it was an honest mistake. It was not Takeda’s fault.

And because of that, we will win.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Ittetsu Takeda
Tuesday, 10:43

Seventeen minutes.

Only seventeen more minutes before the doors from this welcome hall will open up into the courtroom. Only seventeen more minutes before there will be a lawsuit that’ll decide whether I’m going to be in dept for the next lord-knows-how-many-years.

“You have to breathe, Takeda,” Ukai’s voice tells me, he’s leaned up against the wall, reading through our evidence one last time before we go inside and he has to help defend me as a witness. I still cannot believe that the kids put that together, Ukai and I read through it and apart from some spelling errors here and there, it looked like they were making a good case. I tried convincing myself to look for more evidence to defend me, but I just couldn’t. It still feels like fighting a case where I have been forcefully placed on the wrong end of the courtroom; deep in my heart, I feel like I’m still on Madoka Yachi’s side.

“I am breathing.” I am not. My breaths barely find their way to my lungs as I pace up and down the small preparation room they gave us access to, so I won’t have to deal with all the people pouring in to watch this. This lawsuit is open to everyone; townspeople, parents, the press, and maybe worst of all, my students. Who’ll have to defend me, when they all got hurt because of me.

I’ve never had stage fright; I stand in front of classes filled with students for a living. But the fact that they’re all gathered here today to watch me try to defend my case is daunting to me.

“No, you’re not,” Ukai says. “If someone knows what shallow breaths look like, it’s me.” He glances up at me from over the pieces of paper and his eyes smile, a little concerned. “Breathe.”

I roll my eyes, stop walking and attempt a full breath. I barely manage to stand still for it, before the urge to start pacing again returns. I’m not sure if it’s the nerves causing me to feel this way, or the multiple mugs of coffee I drank to get myself up this morning.

My therapist says I should try and dial down on my daily caffeine intake, since he can tell that it’s making me even more panicky than I already would be without the coffee. And I intend to listen to him, but not today. Today, I need my full mind here, wide awake and all. I need coffee for that, even if I know that kind of heightens the chance of me having a panic attack right here and now.

My therapist and I had our final meet before the trail yesterday afternoon. I was already nervous back then, so he managed to give me some tips and tricks to try and get through the day. We went through everything that was going to happen, just like I’d done with my lawyer. My lawyer, earlier this morning, took me through everything once again; what he was planning on saying, and reminding me of the rules before sending me back home to put on more proper clothes, because my non-ironed shirt and tie weren’t going to do it. He advised something like a solid colored, ironed, button-up shirt, slacks and a blazer. He also suggested that I’d at least take the effort to put some gel in my hair.

I went home. Had a mental breakdown in front of my closet. And called up Ukai for help.

He came over to my house, even though we hadn’t planned on meeting up before the trial; he’d just meet me there, sitting in the courtroom with our students. But I couldn’t do this alone.

I was nearing a panic attack, I could feel it, just like I had felt it coming the first time, not long after I wrote my defense with the help of Ukai. He was the one who suggested I’d get myself an appointment with a therapist, and as soon as the school year started again, he was the one who told me I had to start going back to work even if I wouldn’t be allowed in front of the class for my own safety; apparently the news hit some of students and their parents so hard that my boss was afraid letting me be in front of a class again in the near-future would probably end up putting me in danger.

Ukai is the one who helped me through this, because he’s the closest to knowing what I feel like. He considers himself to be sharing the guilt with me. He’s been there for me since the moment we crashed, even though we crashed because I was raging at him. Because I was tired and my neglect caused his ribs to break and his lung to get punctured. He’s still here, standing beside me.

He was there to help me get ready for today. And he was the one who walked here with me and, even though he probably would’ve rather read through the evidence one last time without my nervous ass pacing around the room and distracting him, he has not left my side since I called him.

I should thank him for that. But just as I’m about to open my mouth, the doors open and my lawyer walks into the preparation room, glancing at his watch. “It’s almost eleven, mister Takeda,” he announces. “Ten minutes till show time.”

My stomach turns. Only ten more minutes before my downfall.

I don’t stop pacing as my lawyer makes me repeat the rules again. How to act when I’m there. And most importantly, this is stressed by Ukai more than by my lawyer, not to blame myself. Not once mention how much guilt I feel about what happened. Because that will make us lose the case.

“Alright,” my lawyer says, glancing down at his watch one last time. “We have to get ready.”

I stop pacing. Glance at my watch and see there’s only one minute left.

Only one more minute before the first press reports go out into the open, announcing that I’ll be having a lawsuit. Probably a few hours later, announcing that I’ve lost.

I shake my head to myself, trying to push away those thoughts. I think of what the kids wrote all the way at the end of their full evidence report; wishing me good luck, and telling me they knew I’d win.

Ukai’s hand rests on my shoulder. When I look at him, he smiles carefully and says, “You’ll do great.”

I hope just he’s right.

Doors push open, light pours in. We follow my lawyer into the room.

We head inside, slow paced steps. My heart pounds inside my chest, feeling like it skips a beat every time a camera flashes from the corner of my eyes. The press is all the way in the back, ready to capture what I know they all hope to be my downfall. In front of them are some people I don’t know scattered between three entire volleyball teams – every one involved in the accident, except for Karasuno, because they’ll be my witnesses; that’s quite a big amounts of teenagers, probably the most ever in a courtroom. Somewhere between the rivals’ slightly familiar faces, are three faces I recognise in one glance; Kinoshita, Narita and Ennoshita might not be sitting with their teammates all the way at the front, as they fortunately weren’t included in the accident, but they still cling together with the three of them. As I walk a few steps further, there are some parents I recognize; Daichi’s mother, Tsukishima’s brother and mother, Kageyama’s sister, Hinata’s mother and Nishinoya’s grandfather. They have all come to watch their injured family members defend the person who injured them. I wonder if they blame me. I wonder if they’re secretly on Madoka Yachi’s side.

In the very first row of seats are my students. I’ve only seen Hinata, Yachi, Tanaka and Yamaguchi around lately, since they’re still going to school but everyone is there. On the chairs are those four students along with Sugawara, Asahi and Kiyoko, all sitting in a row. And on the outsides of the row of fixed chairs are Nishinoya, Kageyama and Daichi, whom I haven’t seen since in person the accident. It’s gut wrenching to know that their injuries, which are terrible and life-changing, are because of me. And yet, they are all here to support me with all their might.

I barely have the guts to look at them, but force myself to give them a smile when they say supporting words once I walk past them. I go on, but Ukai’s course here differs from mine; he takes a seat with our students, while I have to sit at one of the tables all the way up front, my lawyer sitting beside me for support and main defending of my case. At the other table sits Madoka Yachi, her eyes filled with rage as she looks at me over her lawyers shoulder. I turn away, looking up to the stage before us.

There comes the judge, a serious expression on his face.

Everyone who can rises up from their seat, this includes me and my lawyer, even though my legs are shaking so bad from the fear that I want to sit down again straight away.

“Today we have gathered to peruse and judge plaintiff Madoka Yachi’s complaint and claim regarding a vehicle accident caused by defendant Ittetsu Takeda.” He looks at me, and at miss Yachi and nods. “Let’s begin.”

I close my eyes and hope, for my students, that we will win this case.

To be continued…

Chapter Text

Keishin Ukai
Tuesday, 23:57

Cheap Sake from a plastic cup only tastes good when you have a serious victory to celebrate. I can confirm that now; never have I liked the taste of Sake, not even expensive ones on New Year’s Eve, because I didn’t have anything real to celebrate. But today, we have something huge to celebrate.

We won a lawsuit today, which seems like a good reason to celebrate. On top of that, after two months of struggling, literally holding onto hope for recovery for dear life, I’m sure I can say we’re finally out of the woods when it comes to life or death.

But even though we all had hopes that we would win today, it was tense all the way up to the very end of the trial. Madoka Yachi had gotten out every trick and did everything to make Takeda look like a bad person. It made it hard for us to get across our case, but in the end, the jury declared Takeda innocent. Which ultimately made the courtroom sound like a cheering audience after a winning match, probably because of the amount of sports players in the audience. It gave this amazing feeling to just cheer him on.

After we won, we stuck around a little longer to chat outside with parents and the other volleyball teams. Unlike what we’d expected, family-members wanted to thank us for how well we took care of their children when we were lost in the forest; they’d heard the stories of how Takeda went back to the burned down bus to search for supplies, how I had ran into the still-burning bus to safe Kageyama and how both of us stayed off painkillers and ate little food to make sure our students wouldn’t starve or be in pain the entire time. Sure, especially the close family members of Daichi, Kageyama, Nishinoya, Tsukishima and Hinata were shocked or even heartbroken by what happened, but unlike what I expected, no one seemed outight mad at us. They didn’t blame us like we’d blamed ourselves.

They were thankful that their children, siblings and grandchildren were still alive, and they thanked us for that.

I think I can speak for both Takeda and me and say that that felt amazing to hear. Never had I thought that someone so close to the students would say something like that to us. It felt like a bigger victory than winning the trial, to be completely honest.

We didn’t think we would stick around for too long, but in the end, we did; hours in which students from Karasuno held small volleyball matches with their rivals. Not everyone joined in the games; Daichi and Kageyama sat them out, playing judge from the sidelines, shouting orders at their loudest. Nishinoya didn’t want to just watch and cheer, he played sitting on the ground for two or three rounds, and Hinata also joined under the understanding that it would be a low-energy game where the balls were not to be smashed too hard. In the same game that Hinata joined in, Yachi and Kiyoko and even Takeda himself played too, immediately making it a slower, softer game. And the others who joined in that game, they were understanding of their teammates, teacher and rivals, and indeed played it softly. There were so many laughs shared, even more laughter than I’d heard before the accident.

Once the sky started to get darker and everyone outside of Karasuno was starting to leave, we decided that it was time to celebrate among the thirteen of us. If we’d known we’d win, we probably would’ve reserved us a spot at a fancy restaurant. But we would’ve reserved for around lunchtime, not dinner. And now it’s evening, plus we weren’t sure. So, no fancy celebration dinner for us.

We considered seeing if one of the nearby restaurants had place for thirteen unannounced guests, but Kageyama admitted that he didn’t quite feel like going to some fancy place; he still feels out of place. And Daichi said he would feel bad for not ordering anything, since he’s got a restriction on eating and can only have thickened drinks because of swallowing issues. Hinata has his diet to stick to, and Tsukishima wasn’t feeling like going to a place where everything would be so busy and loud.

Wanting to meet everyone’s needs, we settled on getting some ingredients at our local grocery store and cook dinner ourselves at my shop. We could’ve just eaten the buns I sell, but I want them to eat proper dinner; they’re growing kids, all with specific diets they have to keep to, especially now. So instead Takeda and I cooked a snack buffet in the kitchen in the back of the store, while the kids played games in the main part of the store. We made fruit skewers, small sandwiches, wraps, rice balls, healthy snacks like that. And I admit, I was pretty proud of the end-results.

For drinks, everyone got to choose out of tap water, sparkling water, milk and even apple juice as a replacement for the Sake; you know, for the eleven underage students we have with us. We even bought thickened apple juice for Daichi, which he admitted tasted terrible but at the same time was the tastiest thing he had drank since the accident. Takeda and I both got ourselves a glass of Sake, cheap one that was bound to taste terrible too, but we decided it was part of celebrating.

Now we’re all sitting here, gathered around a makeshift table, made from some boxes, in the middle of the store. Most of the food has already been eaten, with some leftovers here and there. And after today, it’s not strange that we wrap it up by taking a trip down memory lane. It’s not strange that we all look back on the past two months with mixed feelings; we all got hurt, either physically or mentally, and some of us are left changed for the rest of their lives by what happened.

And yet, we all look towards the future with good faith.

Tanaka’s working hard to graduate at the end of this year, and Nishinoya’s planning to do the same once he’s returning to school again soon. The third-years together with Yamaguchi, Hinata and Yachi want to start putting the volleyball club back in business again; though it will be different without almost any of the starters in the team and Hinata being unable to play in matches, they hope to use their popularity as a way to get some excited first-years to join.

Tsukishima’s planning to get a guide dog, he’s already been signed up for the program. And instead of returning to regular high school, he plans to head to a school for the blind as soon as next term starts.

Asahi wants to invest some time in his mental health, just like Takeda’s planning to do.

Kiyoko, though planning to work full-time for this year at least, turns down my offer for a job at my store because she’s already working at a sports store where she works quite a lot. I should probably follow her lead and start working again too, now that my ribs aren’t too painful anymore.

Daichi’s going to work hard to be as independent as he possibly can for when he moves back home, and Kageyama’s going to do the same so he might be able to start playing sitting volleyball, just like Nishinoya’s planning to do. They all have big plans for the next months.

“I can’t wait for this month to end,” Nishinoya says, after telling us that he’ll start meeting up with his new volleyball coach in early May. “I’m just so excited!”

“Wait isn’t it the last day of April?” Yachi asks, she glances at the clock which tells us that it’s almost midnight. “It’s almost May then, right?”

Hinata checks his phone and nods. “Maybe we can do a countdown?”

“It’s not New Year’s Eve, you know!” Kageyama reminds him, but he seems to be the only one who is against the idea. I’m not entirely against it either, so I give Hinata a nod.

“Let’s do that,” I agree. “Let’s do a countdown and invite the new month in.”

“Yeah!” Nishinoya loudly agrees, the others just nod, even Kageyama, and take a hold of their glasses.

Hinata looks at his phone, going into his phone’s clock-app so we can see the seconds of the minute. When it’s exactly ten seconds before midnight, he starts counting. “Ten!”

“Nine!” The others join in, filling up the store with simultaneous counting. “Eight! Seven!”

Almost two months ago, our lives were still normal. Just two coaches and their volleyball team heading to Tokyo for a training camp with three rivaling teams, it all sounded like a fun idea until our bus crashed and our lives got turned around for the first time.

“Six!”

Exactly fifty-three days ago, we were still lost in the forest, fighting to survive. Counting down the seconds. Minutes. Hours- it would last until someone would find us.

“Five!”

Fifty-two days ago, we were found after seventeen unbearable hours. Barely alive, but the news articles the press released mere hours after we were found, said it was something to celebrate.

It didn’t feel that way.

“Four!”

We’d gone through something we would never be able to forget. A part of our past we cannot erase.

“Three!”

But we’ve come so far since then.

Everyone’s healing.

“Two!”

Everyone is making long-term plans for the future, because despite everything we’ve gone through, we’ve lived to tell the story. And because of what we’ve gone through, we’re now get to see how bright our futures are.

“One!”

Cheers fill the room as the date on my phone jumps from April 30^th, to May 1^st. Finally we’re able to leave the two darkest months of our lives behind us. Finally, we raise a glass to the future.

“To a new month, filled with bright chances!” We make a toast, all taking a sip simultaneously.

Sake never tastes good, unless you have a serious victory to celebrate. But tonight we’re celebrating so much. We’re not only celebrating that we won Takeda’s trial. We’re celebrating that we survived a massive bus accident, not just physically, but mentally as well. We fought through the hardest part. Together we will now ring in a new month, a new chapter of our lives.

That’s why the bubbles taste so good; because we’re drinking on the fact that our lives, after being completely turned around and upside down, will now be heading in the right direction.

To be continued…

____________________________________________________________________________________________

To be continued??? You might be asking yourself. But this is the last chapter… right?
You are both right and wrong. This is the final chapter of “Turned Around (recalculating route)” but--
THERE WILL BE A THIRD AND FINAL PART!!!

(more explanation about that in the end note!)

Click here to read “Destination Reached”
part 3 of “There’s No Navigation To Tell You How To Survive A Car Crash”
to see how the lives of team Karasuno’s members look like five years after the crash!