Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The suffocating smell of incense poisons his lungs, the lump in his throat, and the sting in his eyes. He hates it. But yet, he remains silent. He is numb. He can’t scream, cry, yell or hit. He just stands there, drowning on land. Awash in the smoke and hallmark condolences, a picture that looks too alive and happy for the occasion. The suit, a suffocating black. Just like his once bright world, murky and dark. Everything is dark. And then a volleyball rolls on the ground, thud thud thud. He turns around, his grandfather smiles, it’s too good to be true. Everything feels colorful and bright again, only for his smile to disappear. “Kazuyo san?” “What have you become Tobio”. Quickly, he turns around. The volleyball again, thud thud thud. Their faces, resentful. He tries to apologize, to yell, "I'm so sorry, forgive me, please, please…” But their words drown out his silent cries.
“King, king, KING.
thisisyourfault.
YOU ARE THE REASON YOU'RE ALONE”.
He feels it, the crown on his head weighing him down down down. It’s so loud, but so silent. He stays still, accepting his fate. “Will I only be forgiven if I die…”

Kageyama Tobio jolts awake. Even though it’s not the first time he’s had that nightmare, it still hurts. On nights like these, he looks out the window of his lonely miyagi flat, and wonders what went wrong. Was it when his grandfather died, leaving him alone and angry. Angry at everything, his teammates for not caring as much as him, the world for taking his grandfather away from him, and himself. He was so angry at himself. He always hated himself. Maybe it started when he first met his mother's husband, his uncle who slapped him in front of his sister for being born. Or maybe when his father, a drug addict, told him just how cruel this world could be. He was only 7. When his sister drifted away, severing their only connection. Hell, when he was born, product of a drunken mother hooking up with her husband's crackhead brother on a business trip. His mother… she couldn’t even stand the sight of him. He was only able to cope then because of two things, volleyball and his grandfather. That was his world, they went hand in hand with everything good in life. When one left, just like everything and everyone else, he only had volleyball left. Maybe that’s why, even after he pushed his teammates to abandon him on the court. After failing to even be a tolerable teammate, he continued to play. Volleyball was the only thing tying him to life, an anchor for his scattered heart. Even awash in the seas of his anger and guilt, he always had volleyball. It's just…sometimes he wishes it wasn’t so. On nights like these, all too aware of the cold and lonely walls, he looks out the window and wishes he had friends and family. Friends who would listen to him ramble on about volleyball, remember his birthday and be nice to him. A family to cook him dinner and say welcome back when he gets home. Even if the family may be impossible, he really wants friends at least. He thought he had one in Hinata, but given their fight in the gym last week, he had fucked that up too. And it’s not like he could make friends either, most people couldn’t even tolerate him. Not like he blames them. So, for now he just looks out the window at the city lights of Sendai and wishes.

Drifting off to a dreamless sleep, the lonely boy remembers something. “If you get strong enough, I promise you someone stronger, someone better will appear right before your eyes.”
Someone stronger…I'll get strong enough to meet them one day Kazuyo-san.

Lucky for him, Kageyama Tobio is nothing if not persistent. He will try to get stronger, just like he has been, which hasn't been going great. Some people would call this boy a genius for his “natural volleyball skill”, but he was no genius. One, he worked very hard ever since he could walk to be where he is today, thanks. Two, he is pretty stupid when it comes to most things. How he has made it on his own is a mystery. Good survival instincts, perhaps? Tall and intimidating maybe? Well, no matter the mystery surrounding his brain, or lack of brain, he is clearly no genius. And he has, unfortunately misinterpreted most of his lessons learned. A major setback for someone with no more good role models to help him. But he will keep pushing forward to a warped goal, and he will have what he wants and needs, sometime someday. But for now, he looks out the window, only sleeping well past 4 am, wishing and wishing.

“I thought I was used to it…so why am I still so lonely…”

Beep beep beep.

Rubbing his eyes, Kageyama Tobio awakens. Shutting off the alarm, yawning and stretching as the sounds of the streets waking up with him filter through the thin walls of his apartment. He picks up his phone, checking for any new messages. Hinata hasn’t really been texting him since their fight, so the only notifications are from a joint group chat. This group chat was just the frosting on the multilayer cake shitshow of the past week, really. One day after the fight, an announcement was made by Coach Ukai that Karasuno and Aoba Johsai would be having a two-week practice match thing where the next two Saturdays would be spent practicing together. Then Sundays would be practice matches. The first match they would mix up the players for the teams, then the second would be Karasuno v.s Aoba Johsai. Now why would this be bad for dear Tobio? Well aside from the obvious issues with Aoba Johsai, the timing was, well, fucking awful for Kageyama. Hinata wouldn’t speak or work with him, enforcing to certain players that he was just a king, a genius that sees himself far above everyone else. And this group chat (Sugawara-sans idea) had spread the word all too quickly. Tsukishima, Kunimi, and Kindaichi took every available opportunity to be assholes to him, only further fueled by Oikawa-san. The only person even doing anything about all the shit being talked about him was Iwaizumi-san, but that was only to scold Oikawa, so it wasn’t much help. Sugawara told them off sometimes but didn’t care for the most part. He doesn’t blame the others for not helping him, considering the Hinata situation. Hinata was far better liked than him, and he knows this. He just has no idea why those four (two really, as far as he knew he had never done anything to Tsukishima or Oikawa to warrant this.) Liked to be such assholes to him. Sighing, Kageyama wishes he knew how to read people better. It was easier when he had others by his side, he lamented, but he fucked his only option up….yet again. Oh well, he can just avoid talking and communicate through volleyball. That’s what he does best anyway. For once, he is secretly glad they don’t have morning practice. Checking the time, he grumbles, not wanting to miss the bus and have to run to school…. again. It was becoming a regular occurrence, but hey! It wasn’t his fault the bus was incredibly inconsistent. Grabbing his pre-prepared lunch and some milk, he sets off to school, making sure that hopefully, just maybe, the day would go smoothly. Making sure he locks the door; he sets off walking to school. Well, he starts to sprint to catch the bus at some point, but details, details. He totally caught the bus. Totally.

“Hey kid, watch where the hell you’re going!”
“Sorry…”

Chapter Text

Well so much for the day going smoothly so far. He caught the bus, (all that running he does really comes in handy.) But while doing so he almost got hit by a car. Again. Look, things happen sometimes, it's just…AGHHHH. Behind the school building, two blue eyes glare at a wall. Between the adrenaline rush and the tired irritation of the day already going to shit, he kicks the wall. Twice. Or more. Not Kageyamas finest moment, he admits, but can you blame him? He almost got hit by a car. “Stupid fucking drivers”’ he cursed. “Hit me with a car-”. A quiet murmur brings him out of his trance. A couple of random third years looked at him with concern, probably because a random scary kid kicking a wall while cursing traffic is an odd thing to see at 8:00 am. Annoyed, and somewhat embarrassed, Kageyama glares at them, causing them to stutter and walk off. Yep. The day had officially gone to shit. At least they weren’t on the volleyball team, that would’ve warranted even more questions. Sighing, he walks to class, already wishing he had just stayed asleep. Doing his best not to run into any members of the volleyball team (Tsukishima), as to avoid getting teased about his even worse than normal resting bitch face. 

Today was just the day to make him all the more aware of his misery however, as his first period class was english. He sits in his normal seat in the back, the one nobody dares take because of his scary face. Looking totally approachable has its perks sometimes. He could just stare out the window without getting called on all the class. Shortly after the teacher starts droning on, he starts zoning out. Not like he could understand any of it anyway. English was a stupid, complicated language that he hated with all his being. How was he supposed to keep his grade up if he only knew a handful of words, half of them being swear words. The only reason he knew those words was because of his father and yachi. Staring out the window, he recalls a memory of his childhood. 

As a kid, Tobio never saw his father much. He was addicted to drugs for most of his younger years anyway, making his fathers living situation highly unstable. Because of this (and other family reasons), he lived with his grandfather. His grandfather hated that his son was on drugs, and would only let him see Tobio when he was fully sober. He was always in and out of jobs and rehab, but when he was sober, he came to see Tobio sometimes. By the time he was 6, his grandfather let him go out with his father during weekend afternoons if his father wanted to see him. Sometimes, his father took him to a busy street corner. He would hand Tobio a volleyball to keep him busy and quiet, and sat with a cardboard sign to bribe foreigners for cash. The only reason he brought Tobio was because having a little kid with him made him much more money. When naive tourists weren’t all around his father would play volleyball with him, so young Tobio didn’t mind. He would always hear snippets of broken English in conversations, things you don’t just forget as a little kid. One day when his father was walking him home, he asked why his father did what he did. 

“Father, why do we do that sometimes?”

“Hnn? Well you see Tobio, your dad is tight on cash, and you help him get more, ok. I'm teaching you some English too, your grandfather would be happy to hear I'm teaching you.”

“Ok dad.”, so excited to make his grandfather happy that he never questioned why his father never actually explained the English to him.

He was a naive little kid, and looking back it was kinda messed up, but at the time it wasn’t bad at all. He got to play volleyball, and old ladies would hand him sweets. A part of him was glad he didn’t understand what his father was doing. At the time, he was content. His favorite english phrase was “what the fuck” back then. Still is, but he understands what it means now. First time he heard it was when he accidentally hit an old English man in the balls with his volleyball.

Suddenly, A voice pulls him out of his thoughts. It was the teacher asking a question. Fuck. All the class was staring at him too. He hated when people stared at him. It made him feel stupid and dumb and more out of place than normal which was already a lot, and just FUCK. Fuck this class, Fuck English. He stammers out a quick “What.”, hoping that would be the end of it. But no, this teacher had to say, “Full sentences please”. Well, dear Tobio, in his already panicked state, halfway in his memory, well…He blanked. And unfortunately, the “full sentence” that came out was a resounding “What…the fuck?” At least it was English, he lamented, being sent out to the hall for the rest of class. The laughter of his classmates dying out as he closed the door behind him, he just got even more pissed. “All I wanted was one good day, but that was too much to ask huh. Great, they already thought I was stupid.”

Tobio hated feeling stupid, but the feeling was becoming all too common these days, eating away at the little happiness he had left. At least he wasn’t stupid when he played volleyball. Sighing, he waited, lunch couldn’t come fast enough.

Three hours later on the other side of the school, the sound of the lunch bell made most in the 3rd year math class jump up to leave, except for one ace, who was staying behind to help with cleanup. While in concentration, Asahi didn’t hear his classmate walk up to him. Clearing his throat, the classmate was in for a little scare as Asahi whipped his head around to see a nervous looking classmate of his. “Uhmm” The boy stammered, looking as scared as Asahi felt. He often forgot that his outside didn’t really match the inside, despite it being a weird insecurity of his. Looking back at the boy Asahi answers; “Yes? How can I help you?” 

“Well you're on the volleyball team right?”

“Yes, why?”

“Well I saw your setter today, he seemed pissed, said something about getting hit by a car-”

“Suga!?”

“No, the scary looking one, first year? I don’t know, just thought you, uhh, should know, cause it was really weird and he has a really nasty glare-”

“Oh, ok. I'll talk to him about it later…”

As the guy walked off, Asahi took a moment. Now, he was concerned, for sure, Kageyama is his kohai, and he cares about him, despite some of his faults with communication. But, at the same time, Kageyama was…scary. Look, I know it sounds silly, he’s just a first year, but he’s so intense and unpredictable, like Nishinoya, but quieter and angrier. And taller. And that glare, he knew what the other guy was talking about, good lord it was scary, ok. At least Daichi’s scary face didn’t feel so…rageful. There was something behind his eyes, something that worried him. He never knew how to ask, Kageyama was hard to approach. But getting hit by a car…That’s serious. He will have to talk to Daichi and Suga about it, they could help dealing with his (scary) kohai. But first, lunch. He was hungry, ok?

Kageyama grumpily sipped his milk. He found a nice place in the back parking lot by the school where he could eat without anyone bothering him. He used to eat with Hinata, but…well not anymore. It was fine. He could eat all his meals alone, no problem. He wasn’t lonely, he didn’t miss the lively chatter of others, the simple homely happiness that comes with eating together. He didn’t miss the way his grandfather and Miwa would laugh with him over pork curry, or the cookies Hinata’s mom packed him, the ones they used to split. He was fine. Now he could think about volleyball alone and ignore the dark hands of sadness that clawed away at his heart and soul. He wasn’t sad, just unhappy that volleyball practice was far away. All he needed to do was focus on getting better. Rubbing his eyes, (when did they start tearing up) he gets up to leave for his next class. He could make it on his own, just you watch. 

Ok, maybe not. It was the last period of the day, the day that had mostly gone…pretty bad. Between falling asleep in math, and then getting a bunch of stares for the stunt he pulled in english. He hated the way they looked at him. Amusement and pity, like he was some sort of court jester, eyes holding whispers they wouldn’t ever say to his face. Cowards. The thing he hated most, however, was the way Yachi stared at him. Nothing against her,she was nice, he just hated the way she looked confused and scared. It only fueled his self loathing, and proved that everyone in the first year knew about what happened. At Least he only ran into Yachi, she may be panicky, but she is too nice (and probably too scared) to make a fuss. He could only hope nobody else would mention it. Sighing as the bell rang and he walked to the gym, he just hoped that at least practice would go smoothly.

Chapter Text

Kageyama arrives to practice early as always, a habit ingrained in him because of many moments. A matter of pride, even if he and Hinata weren’t competing like that anymore. Plus, he just liked, no he loved playing volleyball. Changing quickly, he goes to grab a ball and practice by himself as the team filters in. He decides to practice spikes, seeing as you could do that alone, considering Hinata wasn’t begging him for tosses, which he didn’t miss about him at all. Nope. It was annoying. Everyone else who needed help would just go to Suga anyway. As the rest of the team starts to practice he tries to ignore yachi’s stare of concern. He already knows he fucked up ok. When Daichi gathers the team to talk, he doesn’t miss the stares Asahi is sending his way either. Did the third years know about the mishap too? God he hoped not, that would be fucking horrible. They could lecture him; or worse, ban him from practice or something. The sound of his name rang clear in the captain's voice. “Oi, Kageyama, Tsukishima. You will be working together today.” Fuck. Of anyone? Him? Seeming to already sense the discontent, Daichi explains his reasoning. “Well, Tsukishima needs to practice blocking, and Kageyama was already practicing spiking, you two can work together. No buts.” Dammit. Did he have to have such good reasoning all the time? No wonder he is captain, even if he pairs them up he can make it work. Well, Kageyama hopes they can stay civil long enough to get through this.

Ok, Kageyama was really trying ok. He wouldn’t be the first to start shit, even if it was Tsukishima the salt mine he was dealing with. But Tsukishima was blocking like he wasn’t even trying. Kageyama couldn’t fathom it. If he wanted to practice with Kageyama, couldn’t he put in a little more effort? He hated how Tsukishima could just not try and nobody got pissed at him. Another failed block. “Tch”. Kageyama was getting fed up. His day was already going shitty, but this was really just going to make him lose it. 

“Oh look, the king is getting mad at me for not being perfect. Would you prefer a robot, your highness?”

Ok That was it. He was really going to fucking loose it. Oh, and the bastard had to say it loud enough that the whole gym was looking at them. Fucking great.

“Oh just shut up, I'm not in the mood for this right now.”

“Aww has his highness had a bad day? Well some of us don’t cause problems for ourselves by cussing out our teachers, and expect others to treat them like royalty hmm?”

“Fuck off, your just pissed that I can play better than your lazy ass can.”

“Oh I'm sorry we can’t all be geniuses who have all their talents served to them on a silver platter. Some of us have to work, king. ”

“Oh don’t talk to me about hard work, you know nothing-”

“And you would? I know that no matter what I do, I can’t measure up to your genius skills, I’m just a peasant to you huh? So high up you can’t even see that.” 

Kageyama was starting to snap, this was bad. He can’t help that the bastard pushed all of  his buttons. But two can play at that.

“WELL, maybe if you got off your ass, people would actually care enough about teaching you to play.”

Tsukishima faltered a bit at that, even if it was low on his part, Kageyama was glad the bastard finally shut up a bit. But Tobio hadn’t won yet.

“Hah, that’s bold coming from someone whose family doesn’t even come to his games. I bet they're embarrassed of your kingly attitude huh?”

Oh. oh…. Kageyama knew Tsukishima didn't know the gravity of what he said, but…It hurt

 But Kageyama wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He didn’t deserve to know, nobody could know or understand the pain and loneliness. Certainly not the team, he didn’t need pity, people that were only nice to him because of his grandfather's death. If Tsukishima went low, he would go lower.

“Oh, Well that's rich coming from a guy whose only friend was probably bullied into it”

Oh he had done it now. Everyone knew that yamaguchi and that bullying wasn’t a topic to be brought up around tsukishima, especially not like that. 

Kageyama opened his mouth to speak, only to get cut off. 

“STOP IT. Now”

Oh. It was sugawara, and he sounded pissed. They were both in for it this time. Daichi was menacing behind him, with the stares of the rest of the team on them. Readying himself for a lecture, Kageyama stood quietly, but what happened next, he didn’t expect.

“Kageyama, what you said wasn’t ok. I know he said some things you didn’t like, and it’s ok to be upset, but you know that's a touchy subject. You should apologize.”

What? Kageyama's whole world seemed to stand still. Even after all that Tsukishima said, why was he being singled out? Did they not hear what he said? Look, he knew he was being an asshole, but so was Tsukishima. As Daichi's new lecture on the values of teamwork kicked off, Kageyama was still wrapped up in his thoughts. Why was he singled out, why him. What did Tsukishima have that he didn't? Was it all his fault? No, it couldn’t be. Then why .

Why did this always happen to him? He just didn’t get it. 

Daichi’s lecture was wrapping up, but Kageyama couldn’t be further away from listening to it. There were only 10 minutes left in practice, but he couldn’t stay. Grabbing his stuff, he runs out the door, ignoring the words that followed. Any shouts of “wait’ or calls to apologize weren’t heard by him. All he could think was why why why. He had fucked up again and again, but this time he wasn’t the sole instigator, the sole asshole. Was his pain not as important? Could he never be understood without shouting? He hated it. He couldn’t bear it, the weight of his own feelings, pulling him down like the heavy crown rested on his head. He had understood the Hinata situation, as he was well liked. But Tsukishima? As far as Tobio could tell, Tsukishima was an even bigger asshole than he was. He knew he wasn’t great about connecting with others, but was it really that bad? Couldn’t they see he was trying his hardest? Holding back tears, Tobio wishes his grandfather were here. His grandfather always understood him, believed in him. But his grandfather is dead, and here he is, running away from his problems. The crack baby failure his mother and uncle thought him to be. He couldn't take it, all he wanted was to play. Falling to his knees on the concrete, trying not to sob in the middle of an unknown street at dusk. Speaking of that, where was he? Gosh, he had run far. Sighing, he starts walking in the direction of his house, wanting nothing more than to sleep forever. 

Unlocking the door to his apartment, he just about collapsed on the floor. It was past time for dinner, but Kageyama didn’t think he could stomach food at the moment. Walking through the small lonely apartment to his room, not even bothering to speak, nobody else called this place their home anyway. Falling on his bed, he tries his best to ignore the elephant in the room, the buzzing of his phone. Messages, surely from that Group Chat. Giving in, Kageyama opened his phone. Just as he thought. Messages telling him to come back, demanding answers, or worse; everything along the lines of “The king of the court has returned.” Stupid T sukishima. Oh, who was he kidding. It was probably all his fault again. Scrolling down, he noticed that the normal meat bun outing held after friday practice would include Aoba Johsai, which, well he was already thinking of skipping it anyway. At least it got the topic off of him and onto “RIP Daichi’s wallet.” Sighing, he puts his phone down, not bothering to answer any messages, and starts to get ready to just pass out on his bed.

The knock on the door, sudden and quick, put a quick stop to his plans. Now, he could just ignore it, but there was only one thing this could mean. Sighing, he knew he had to answer the door, whatever it was now, he just hoped it would be alright. It’s not like his day could get much worse. Sitting up, he walked to the door. Opening it, he wasn’t expecting exactly what, or who he saw. 

Chapter Text

With shaky hands still on the doorknob, Tobio looks out on a man and a woman. He was expecting the man, a tall wall of muscle named Irutora. His landlord. Now why would the landlord be an expected visitor of this lonely highschool boy? Well, his landlord was, for the most part, his only visitor. He came in expecting favors, favors Tobio couldn’t refuse him. Due to his odd living situation (and fear of the man's yakuza standing), Tobio couldn’t refuse the requests of Irutora. At least they weren’t too frequent, and they were all normal requests, depending on your definition of normal. Not that illegal probably describes the favors best. The unexpected visitor, a woman who he had never seen before, dressed in club clothes and covered in smudged makeup. Judging by the way she looked sorely miserable, she was likely hungover. Tobio knew because he had seen and dealt with many hungover people. He could even be a professional hangover-helper if volleyball fails. At the nod of the man, the woman stumbles to the couch, grumbling about how her heels were hurting her feet and how she was so glad to be rid of them. She then proved her point as she dramatically threw them off her feet and sighed gratefully, uncaring about the two staring at her from the door. Turning to the man for answers, Tobio, who wasn’t in the mood for talking, (or existing) was glad he started the conversation. 

“Oi, kid. She needs dinner, some pain meds, and a spare washroom. I’ll come pick her up later.”

Then, without looking for clarification, Irutora leaves. Not like Tobio could refuse. Turning to the woman, now splayed out on his couch loudly texting someone, he knew he should ask her what she wants to eat.

“Uhn…what would you like to eat-”

“Don’t care, anything is fine.”

Well at least he got a quick answer. Moving to get the ingredients for pork curry, which he thinks he deserves at this point, Tobio silently mourns his peaceful evening of sleeping his sorrows away. Hey, at least now he can be annoyed at a shitty situation he was in that definitely wasn’t his fault.

His grandfather's funeral was one of the worst days of Tobios life. The loneliness that had been creeping up on him since Kazuyo-san started seeing the doctor more, the feeling that immersed itself in his shadow when his once strong and beaming idol started to deteriorate and become a shell of his former self. The tears silently spilled as he made pork curry, the one his grandfather taught him to make, his favorite. When his grandfather started teaching him how to cook and clean and be independent, as if preparing to leave him. All those little things, clawed through his lungs and grasped at his heart, had taken their hold on him that day. He can’t bear to think about the day without wanting to self-destruct. He was truly alone. 

Before the will proceedings, Tobio thought he might be alright, that he could mend the bridge with his mother and uncle. That maybe, his Father disappearing 3 years ago could be the first step. Maybe they would take care of him, and Tobio could still have a family.

But those hopes were squashed when he saw the looks of hatred in their eyes, a look that would haunt him forever. That feeling of rejection danced with the grief in his heart, creating a pit in his stomach and water in his eyes. It stung, like millions of needles poking into his soul. Entering the gloomy room, he was met with a gloomy looking man with many files. It was fitting, how bleak the room looked. The lawyer droned on about the rules, like how things were final, a warning to “Not get upset.” It bored Tobio, who watched as the man opened the files, and read what his grandfather had written, instructions. Tobio hated that he knew so well his own demise but still nurtured Tobio till the very end. The estate division was a fifty-fifty split between him and Miwa. The surprise was that Tobio’s portion of the finances were wired monthly to a bank account set up under Tobio’s name. The people who were supposed to be his parents visibly bristled, furious that they didn’t get anything, not even control of his money. Their glares were directed at him, best to disrespect the living instead of the dead. Tobio couldn’t be further away, the realization of what his grandfather had done… Kazuyo-san knew. He knew that Tobio’s would-be parents couldn’t be trusted with his finances. It hurt to think that his grandfather realized that his parents would only pretend to tolerate him for money. It made him want to sob that even in death, Kazuyo Kageyama was still looking out for him. He was starting to realize what those suffocating gray walls were for, to keep those trapped within them from crying. The rest of the proceeding flew by like a dull blur, just like the way his world spun. He stood outside after the proceedings, standing awkwardly next to the two people that should’ve been his parents. His mothers cold voice felt like an icy dagger to the heart, cruel words she spat to only further his suffering.

“We told Miwa to sell the house because you’d be living with us. You can either give us your money and live with us in Tokyo, or go homeless. Take your pick, I don’t care about your well being, but I'm being generous. And don’t even try to tell Miwa, would you really want to kill her whole childhood like that?”

The world seemed to freeze, selling the house? It felt like selling all his memories, memories with his grandfather. And then, being forced to move to Tokyo, away from the park he played volleyball at, away from the stall that made great meat buns? He didn’t want to leave it all behind for a lonely house with people who couldn’t stand him. Would they even let him play volleyball? There had to be another option, there just had to. Tobio was drowning in his thoughts, plagued by his own uncertainties. Then suddenly, a hand came. His uncle, who had remained silent, extended his hand, not to him, but at him. The resounding smack of the palm connecting to his cheek. His uncle started to yell in the face of Tobio’s startled confusion. 

“You little brat. She didn’t have to offer that, to extend help to someone not deserving of it. And yet, you still stand there like an IDIOT. You're just like that bastard, an ungrateful little shit who shouldn’t have been born . I should-” 

His mother, ever the Ice Queen, broke the red-hot fire of her husband's rant.  

“Enough. Leave him. He made his choice.”

As they turned away to leave, Tobio was barely holding on. When the dust clouds settled and the car's engine was nothing but a memory, he lost grip.

Even after he stopped yelling, after the two remaining humans able to help him left him alone, Tobio stood there, rooted to the spot. It was all too much, he felt like he was about to explode, his mind desperately clawing at his skull, aching to scream, cry, yell, run a million miles, bash his skull in and free itself from its prison. 

Tobio had no idea how long he was there, but by the time he left, both his knuckles and the walls were ripped up and streaked with blood, and the sun had set low. The loneliness never loosened the hold on him, even when slept, hugging the volleyball he played with when he was little close to his chest, never letting it go.

Looking down at the pot of curry cooking, the fragrance of the ingredients and spices simmering brings a small smile on his face. He loved this curry; he could make it distracted any day. Part of the reason he loved it, honestly. The sound of a throat being cleared brought him out of his little trance.

“...Hey, kid? …Do you mind if I smoke a cig? I can go outside if you need me to…”

…

“Oh, yes. Go for it.”

The interaction, despite it being a little awkward, made Kageyama feel better. Even in dark times, prime for bad memories, little things can help. Even if he needed to take care of his lungs for volleyball, the smell of cigarette smoke was oddly comforting. Plus, she asked. That little act of care, no matter how miniscule, made Kageyama feel a lot better. He decided to give her the better egg he makes on top of the curry. Sometimes life gives you a cigarette, something bad that can distract you towards something that turns out good. When a door closes, it points you to one that’s open.

Cigarettes have always been a somewhat meaningful symbol over the course of Tobio’s life. His father would smoke, he remembers the smell that stuck to both of them whenever they spent time together. Like a bond, that brought them together, even if he never smoked to protect his lungs for volleyball. He grew to like the smell; it smelled like weekend afternoons and a door that only opens after another one closes. 

It was only a short time after the funeral ceremony, when the crowds had filtered out to leave Tobio alone with his sadness and fear. Sadness for the past and fear for the future. Then, a smell emerged from the corner, a lit cigarette. The same smell his father used to have lingering on his soul. He turned to a literal wall of a man staring him down. Based on his demeanor, and the scar on his face, this guy was probably a yakuza. When they locked eyes, Tobio thought his soul would leave his body. When he started to walk to Tobio, he just about sent himself to another plane of existence. His mind was racing at about 1000 miles a minute, and he couldn’t control the thoughts of “does this guy know grandpa?”, “Is he here to kill me over a debt?”. On top of the overwhelming emotions he was already feeling, the added panic of this situation made him want to puke. The man stopped next to him. Oh shit. This was it for him wasn’t it. The man could clearly see how nervous he was, and lucky for Tobio, he made things quick.

“Tobio Kageyama, right? My condolences about your grandfather.”

The man stopped to take a drag from his cigarette, meanwhile Tobio had stopped panicking (as much, his condolences were nice, but he was still a gangster), and was now looking at the man in curiosity. “Well at least it seems like he doesn’t want to kill me.” Tobio thought. The man exhaled the smoke and carried on speaking.

“So, let's get down to business, kid. Let me introduce myself. My name is Irutora, I was something of a friend to your father. If what he told me all those years ago about his brother and that bitch is still true, I have a proposition for you.”

Tobio winced, even though she wasn’t the best, the disdain his father had for his mother never settled right with him. At least this man was a friend of his father, which means he probably wasn’t going to hurt Tobio. Based on the way the yakuza- er…Irutora-san was looking at him as he ashed the remains of his cigarette, he was hiding the curiosity about his father quite poorly. Not like you could blame him, the man had all but disappeared 3 or 4 years ago, and this guy probably knows about whatever happened.

Irutora sighs, suddenly looking very uncomfortable, almost as if sad.

“Oh god, how do I say this…. Your father, he’s…Dead.”

Oh…That… Tobio expected a blow like that. After all this time it made sense, but still…What would become of him now? Would he really go homeless? He started spiraling once more, the hands of anguish tightening around his chest and making it hard to breathe. 

Seemingly sensing the young kid's distress, an increasingly uncomfortable Irutora speaks once more, a little frazzled this time. 

“Oh Fuck… Look calm down. Shit, he was right about her wasn’t he …Ugh… Look. I have an offer. I owe your father, and I pay my debts. In his will he told me that when your grandfather dies, you’d probably need a place to live. I have a one-bedroom flat. Has a kitchen and bathroom and shit. You don’t have to pay rent, and it’s here in Miyagi. We can sort out the details later. What d’ya say?”

Now, Tobio didn’t really calm down by this point, but he was once again faced with a choice. The third he so desperately wished for. Even though he didn’t trust his opinion, or this yakuza, he knew this was his best chance. He knew it would be hard and complicated, but he could do it. On his own if he had to.

And with that, he agreed. The smell of smoke that lingered in the air as the man left after finalizing the deal made him oddly nostalgic.

They were the same brand his father smoked.

As he started to plate the pork curry, he thought back on his luck. Even in the wake of the worst day of his life, the Marlboro lights pointed him to the lights in a house of his own. Even with all the papers and struggles and lying to the CPS, things turned out alright. He would be forever grateful to Irutora-san. Hence why he would cook food for a random woman and let her take advantage of his house.

Bringing out the food, he saw that the woman had fixed herself up, and was now aggressively texting someone. Putting down the food to notify her of his presence, she sent one last (presumably angry) text, and set down her phone to eat.

“...Thanks for the food kid”

“Mhm”

Well, this silence was unbearably awkward, but Tobio preferred this to the silence Hinata treated him to at the moment. He could feel the lady boring holes into his skull, making no attempt to hide how she was analyzing him. She soon broke the silence, much to Tobio’s chagrin.

“God this is awkward. When Irutora said ‘the kid’ I didn’t think he meant an actual kid. Let alone a depressed one. You seem like ya got some drama going on, why don’t you tell me? I love drama, and I'll even give you advice. Cmon, don’t leave me hanging here.”

Not sure what to say, Tobio opted for a more…simplified version of his current predicament. It was odd being regarded as a kid like that. He sometimes forgot how old he was, really.

“People are jealous, so they are assholes to me and I’m the only one who gets shit for it when I’m an asshole back.”

(a rather crude explanation, but oh well. Leave the sugarcoated flowery words to Oikawa-san, he just wanted to get the point across and over with.)

“Hmmm…you left a lot out, quite the mysterious one arentcha?  Well, it doesn't matter. If you want people to be on your side more, you gotta do them favors, and make sure they can’t owe you or judge you for good reasons. You just have to be that much better kid.”

Now, this advice is meant for a situation with…more yakuza and strippers than Tobio had to deal with, but he still took the advice to heart. It all made sense to him now. He didn’t need friends, He just needed to be so good that he could do everything himself so he could silently cover for others. It would help for them to owe him outside of volleyball too, or at least just inclined to be indifferent to him as a person. They didn’t need to know him or like him, as long as he stayed useful on and off the court. But how would he get them in his debt, or good graces, or whatever the fuck?

Then he remembered the GC. Daichi was paying for all those meat buns by himself and could use some help. If Kageyama covered the difference, the captain would surely be grateful. And if he was in the captain's good graces, it would make his life so much easier. It was a foolproof, genius plan. So, when Irutora came around to get the woman, Tobio asked for an opportunity to work tomorrow evening, since he would only have morning practice that day. (The schedule went Monday and Wednesday afternoon only, Tuesday and Thursday morning only. Fridays were both, and Saturdays and Sundays had special schedules.) Fortunately for Tobio, Irutora was a guy with a lot of work openings, so he was getting paid 2800 yen/hr to work at a pub that night. With the sleep he needed, he could work 7 hrs, meaning he would make 19,600 yen, more than enough. With that in mind, Tobio was, for once, somewhat happy to get up in the morning. The newfound hope the woman’s advice had given him carried him to bed. Sparing a glance at the old volleyball on his nightstand as he turned off his lamp, he smiled. Drifting off into the darkness, he makes a promise. 

“Kazuyo -san, just you wait. I’ll become so strong I won’t need anyone better.”

Under the red-light district's slow buzz, the hum of the neon lights and closing pubs, lies a kid in a small apartment. The night city breeze in Miyagi's own Sendai, dancing with the remaining people in the clubs of Kokubuncho. The kid blissfully sleeps, lulled by the smell of smoke and calmed by the light of false neon stars out the window. Somewhere along the line, a house, an area, and people - they can become a home. A song sings the lullaby of the streets, the lullaby of this lone boy.

“人生どこへ行っても、迷子の猫 ”

Chapter Text

Kageyama wakes up to his alarm blaring in his ears, groaning as the fatigue from yesterday hit him like a truck. Between the disaster that was the school day, his little fight with Tsukishima, and the unexpected visitors, he needed a good two nights sleep, but all he could afford was 7 hours. Pretty good if you ask him. Unfortunately, he had morning volleyball practice, so he had to get up earlier than he would like. Not that volleyball isn’t worth it, (even if practicing with the team might not be right now) but waking up earlier than the midnight diner down the street only to miss the bus isn’t. (Note, he doesn’t wake up before the diner, he is just dramatic. It’s been a long week, ok?) Either way he had to get up now. Turning off his alarm and checking his phone, ignoring the influx of messages he didn’t want to read, all of them surely the group chat. Skipping through hundreds of notifications (none of them nice messages from friends, he could be sure of that.) his thumb passes over one that makes him do a double take. A DM, from Asahi? Curious, he opens it. The message is simple, but shocking, nonetheless. The bright green of the text bubble set the background for 3 words. “Are you ok?” He wasn’t sure how to respond, or what could it even mean? He didn’t know their ace well, so straight up asking him what he meant was very much off the table for someone like Kageyama, a person oh-so-helpfully reminded of his painfully bad social skills every single day. Opting to just ignore the text, he grabs some breakfast and heads off to the bus. 

Much to Tobio’s chagrin, the bus is late. Sitting on his normal bus seat, he taps his leg nervously, mind supplying all the bad scenarios of which he could find himself in this (truthfully) Bad morning. Either the bus makes him late for practice, which would be a blow to his pride (even if he and Hinata weren’t really engaged in their normal (comforting) annoying banter, he still took it upon himself to get there before the short carrot top.) Two, he gets there on time and has to suffer through the whole practice of people whispering and staring and teasing him. Plus, no matter what he knew Tsukishima would be insufferable as usual, and everyone would be staring at him. More than usual. He hated their gazes, the way they looked upon him like he was a bomb that could blow up at any second. He tried to mind his own business and be agreeable, but he always got singled out, and he never understood why. Sighing, he tries to clear his thoughts as the bus reaches his stop. “Ok”, he thinks. “Just don’t let them get to you.” Nodding to the bus driver, he steps off the bus and starts walking towards karasuno. Kicking up dirt on the ground, he glowers down at the rocks and dirt, the mixture of anxiety and annoyance clouding his mind like a fog. Hearing loud voices makes him look up from his little brooding session. 

Nishinoya, Tanaka, and Hinata were all standing outside the front door to the gate, yelling about some (certainly ridiculous) new movie they had seen. While it was loud and annoying, Tobio still found himself staring in longing. The simple wishes of having friends he can sit and be stupid with, people who wouldn't care that he has the social skills of a volleyball. A voice in his head helpfully supplied that he could've easily had that if he had been less selfish and let Hinata do what he wanted without thinking of the team, or himself. He swallowed that thought down with the growing lump in his throat. Walking up to the door, the awkward silence that follows him wherever he goes settles over the usually loud trio like the world's heaviest blanket. They stare at him like he just shrunk a whole foot overnight. Like something isn't right about him (he's starting to think there is something wrong with him. His life was a comedy of errors with too many coincidences to be a mere coincidence.) like he is an outsider (he may as well be) As Tobio walks to the door, he wishes he could say something, just... Anything. (To feel a part of something again) but he ignores it. He says nothing, schooling his face into an expression of bored nonchalance, or anything that doesn't look super pissed off. He needed to work on not looking angry all the time. Facial expressions were important for trust, Sugawara had explained.

to him. Unfortunately, he was born with “a terrible resting bitch face” according to Hinata. Speaking of the shrimp, he was staring at Kageyama a lot today. Kageyama didn't want to dwell on what it could mean. Setting up to practice, Kageyama wished for the 5th time that day that people were as easy to read socially as they were on the court. Kageyama has been notoriously bad at reading people his whole life. He could never understand social norms or flowery double meanings or teasing. It made people like Oikawa and Tsukishima terrible to deal with. He couldn't win against them verbally. Physically or volleyball wise maybe, but he has learned that fistfights aren't a great solution to problems. He was still optimistic about solving problems with volleyball. He was good at that. Speaking of people problems, Tsukishima just came in late. Again. Kageyama hated how dismissive of volleyball Tsukishima could be. He knew not everyone dedicated their whole lives to it like he did, but if Tsukishima really didn't care as much as it seems he did, why would he even play? Ceasing his thoughts and suppressing an eye roll, he opted not to look in Tsukishima’s direction. He knew the whole gym was staring at the two after what happened yesterday. While he couldn't read the room that well, he could tell that much. Lucky for him, Tsukishima didn't try to start shit. Yet. 

Practice was going smoothly, at least as smoothly as it could. It was incredibly awkward, but that was normal to Kageyama. Tsukishima and the shrimp were arguing, but he paid it no mind. The

staring was annoying, but not surprising. All in all, not bad. When practice ended, he went to leave as quickly, and quietly as possible. Of course Tsukishima, ever the bastard, took notice. Kageyama was sure he was just waiting for a good opportunity to get on his case. It seemed like something he would do. Waltzing around the door with a shit eating grin, he took his opportunity to strike. 

“Oh, look who it is. The king seems in a hurry to leave. What's wrong, your majesty? Can't stand to be around us peasants any longer? Or do you just not care that much about volleyball.”

Wrapping up his taunt, in true salty fashion, he pulls a nasty smirk, as if saying “go on, blow up on us again.”

Kageyama almost did. But he saw everyone watching, as if they thought he would, no, knew he would. He needed to prove something. He needed to prove he could be better. Was better. Sure, the asshole remark made his blood boil, but that’s what Tsukishima wanted. If he couldn't beat Tsukishima in all his petty insults and scripted arguments thought up in the shower, he would just burn the script. Just because he couldn't win doesn't mean he will lose. So armed with petty annoyance, resting bitch face, and advice from a (hungover hooker) smart lady, he mustered the most indifferent (and hopefully least constipated) expression he could contort his stiff features into. To top it all off, he let out a light scoff as he walked out of the gym. Ignoring their reactions, he smiled to himself. For the first time, he had bested Tsukishima. And that, that was just the start. 

Lunch at Tsukishima and Yamaguchi's table was quieter than usual, a somewhat tense atmosphere settled over the two boys. Tsukishima was annoyed, but Contemplative. Yamaguchi was waiting for him to bring it up while eating his yakisoba noodles. Tsukishima didn't want to bring up his petty fights with the king, let alone whatever the hell happened this morning. Tsukishima thought of himself as an asshole, but he was proud of 2 things for it. One, was that he was damn good at being an asshole. And two, he was only an asshole for a reason. It just so happened that his list of reasons to be rude was longer than most. Another thing about Tsukishima was he needed to have the last word, ever since he was a child, he prided himself on being smarter than most, and always being able to best others with his words. Needless to say, whatever happened this morning pissed him off. Not only did the king have the last word, but he did something unpredictable. Now, Tsukishima had known the king long enough to know he was only unpredictable on the court. (It truly amazed him how someone with so much strategic capability was as stupid as he was.) Outside of the court, he was an easy to read, temperamental bastard. His comebacks were terribly elementary, and trying to have a conversation with him outside of volleyball was like talking to a brick wall. Heck, Tsukishima was pretty sure he didn't have a life outside of volleyball. Gritting his teeth, his mind supplied that he probably didn't think the team was worthy of knowing about his life. Tsukishima wondered if Hinata, who had been pestering the king since day one, even knew much about him. 

The uncomfortable silence surrounding them was broken by Yamaguchi. 

“Soo… about this morning… I know you're pissed about it." 

Tsukishima glared; he wasn’t in the mood for Yamaguchi's ability to read his mind. But he knows he can't avoid the topic much longer. 

“What's there about it? It’s not like I know the guy, so it was bound to happen eventually." 

“Yeah, but it’s Kageyama, the most predictable hothead after Hinata. How could that -”

“Yeah, well we know literally nothing about him off the court. Nobody does. He takes personal life to a whole new meaning. I doubt even that shrimp knows much.” 

Tsukishima knew he was being rude, more than normal, but he didn't care. Not when Yamaguchi, and God forbid the king, were enjoying his petty suffering. Speaking of which, Yamaguchi had a shit eating grin on his face that could only mean one thing. He was about to say something that Tsukishima wouldn't like, and it would probably be true as well. 

“Oh, so you want to get to know him better but you're too tsundere to ask him?" 

“YAMAGUCHI”

“Sorry, sorry”

Glowering at the other boy, Tsukishima could tell he wasn’t sorry in the slightest. Sighing, he wished he never brought the topic up in the first place. He only wanted to know more about Kageyama so he could insult him better. There was no other reason, Yamaguchi was just being a little shit. Speaking of which, the boy started to speak once more. 

“Ok. Aside from… Everything, you are right about Kageyama. Nobody knows anything about the guy it seems. Well, except Hinata. Maybe. You could just ask him for dirt on Kageyama, he would probably tell you at the moment, given their little argument.”

“Ew. No thanks, but that would mean talking to the shrimp. I’d rather sit in a room full of radioactive waste. I’d probably lose less brain cells that way.”

Yamaguchi laughed at that, his brain conjuring up a mental picture of a neon orange chemical that ate brain cells. Maybe it infected Hinata when he was little. It would explain a lot. 

Speaking of the sunny d version of the devil, Hinata was running over to them. Tsukishima looked like he wanted to drop kick them both. 

“HEY, Tsukishimaaa, and Yamaguchi”

“What do you want, idiot. You better not be asking for help with your math homework, because I'm not tutoring you.”

“HEY. RUDE. And that's not what I was going to ask anyways. It's about this morning.”, the human tangerine pouted. Yamaguchi shot a look at Tsukishima, who looked downright homicidal. 

“What.”

“Geez Salty-Shima, don't be such a grouch just because you got flamed by Kageyama.”

Tsukishima was about to snap. Yamaguchi sat in the background slurping his soba noodles, and Hinata was imitating a real-life pop-up ad you couldn't click out of. You can't blame him if he

wants Hinata as a body in his trunk at the moment. Que the asshole remark. 

“Well not all of us borderline stalked the king to get to know him, not like it even worked based on the fact he barely seems to care about you at all.” Quick, concise and straight for the jugular. Tsukishima smirked. At least this one was as predictable as ever. Hinata seemed to falter at his remark, before starting on a rant. 

“Well, you’d think after all this time I'd know him a little bit, but he never told me anything. No matter how hard I tried to be friends, he just brushed me off!”

Well, that was interesting, even the shrimp didn't know much about the king. Hinata was dreadfully annoying, so he could understand the king a little bit, but still. Hinata was good natured and was the best someone like the king was going to get. Plus, the Tangerine was charismatic, even someone as closed off as the king was susceptible to open up to him at some point. Tsukishima was intrigued now, part of him wanting to get involved, the other simply content with watching the shitshow go down. Looking back at the shrimp, who seemed like wanted to say something. 

“Well, spit it out.”

“Ok, ok. You don't have to be so rude. I want your help to gather information on Kageyama. I need to know more about him, and he won't tell me. I know it sounds stupid, but you could get dirt on him, and everything can go back to normal. Come on, pleaseee. I won't ask you to tutor me anymore just- ughhh why did I even ask you.”

Tsukishima was getting ready to reject his stupid idea and listen to the voice telling him to watch the shitshow unfold, but Yamaguchi beat him to it. 

“Sure, we're in.”

Not even bothering to confirm with the miffed Tsukishima, Hinata starts shaking like an excited orange Jello.

“Yessss!! It'll be good I promise! Thanks, you two!”

With that he ran off, leaving Tsukishima to glare at Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi just smiled at his seething friend. 

“What? I wanna know more about him, and I know you do too. Plus, he stops bugging you about tutoring him.”

Tsukishima frowned, clearly unhappy with the situation, but there was nothing he could do now.  Sighing he says “ok, but you owe me big time.”

“I know Tsuki”

“Don't call me that.”

“Sorry, sorry”

The school bell rang out, signifying the end of the day. Finally, Kageyama thought as he rushed to the bus. He needed to get home quickly so he could change and eat before heading to whatever pub he would be working at this time. The slow hum of the bus reaching his stop blended with the Familiar sounds of the busy streets. Thursday night wasn't particularly busy for Kokubuncho, but that was just fine with Kageyama. Walking through the main street of the ward, the neon lights were just starting to glow. Even though workplaces all over Japan were closing.

by now, the red-light district was just waking up. Going down a wide alley on the way to his apartment complex, there were plenty of barely dressed women selling themselves for the night. They all had their reasons, circumstances. Tobio learned not to judge, but to respect them. Something about not throwing stones in a glass house. Everyone had their own story, just as he did. The ones who recognize him wave, and he waves back. They remind him of Miwa, in a way. (He misses her, even if they were never that close.) Turning down a smaller, seedier alleyway, the place he learned to always carry cigarettes and a lighter on him even if he doesn't smoke. Three doors and a fire escape down, two turns right and left. Down the hall, up the stairs. Room 213. Home sweet home? No. House sweet house? Kageyama didn't know. He wasn't sure where home was anymore (It was with volleyball. With Grandfather-). He didn't think it was here. Not now, and maybe not ever. The door lock was always janky, but he had it figured out now. It’s dark inside, nobody's there till he is. He doesn't announce his presence in the house. What was the point? He rarely spoke in the house; it was just him and the silence. The not quite silence, noise coming from all around, the quiet talk in the alleys, the couple next door, the distant hum of traffic. Sometimes it was one of the many tapes of volleyball games that were kept in many boxes and shelves. Late night analysis of the game that had become his only connection to this big wide world. The only thing that kept him from being left awash in the flood. He had spent countless nights watching and learning. (He never got used to watching them alone.) So much for “natural skill”. He felt like a fraud. 

The house was a casket of memories, his father's old furniture and the tobacco stains that won't come off the ceiling and much of the apartment. (He couldn't have gone outside?) His grandfather's decor, childhood comforts Tobio just couldn't part with. (Just like he never left.) Miwa's old makeup that got mixed in with his stuff. (He will never know how it got there.) The apartment is cluttered, with volleyball journals he wrote since he was under 5 feet scattered around. His room was somewhat plain, with a bed and a desk. There was no overhead light, but that was fine, all he needed was some cheap fairy lights, so the room wasn't completely dark. Despite popular belief, he did some studying and he needed light for it. He didn't have many personal possessions or decor, just volleyball stuff and a photo of when he was young, taken with Miwa and Kazuyo. Any other decor was there when he moved in. Checking the time, he goes to change into some street clothes for work, he can't wear his school uniform after all. Most of his clothing is gym clothes, since they were practical and comfy. However, he does have some cheap street clothes for other occasions. (He realized a while ago that gym clothes aren't good for working at a bar.) Putting on his sneakers, he waits for Irutora to arrive. The guy had to drop him off, something about money and work agreements. Hey, as long as he was getting paid. Given the pub was casual, he didn't put too much thought into his outfit. Grabbing an energy drink, he heads to the door. Opening it, Irutora glances at him then nods. Following the man down the hallway, then out to one of his cars. Sitting in the backseat, he no longer comments on the lack of seatbelts or the odd smell. He had a feeling why, and it was best not to question the driver. Revving up the engine, and the car takes off. The ride is without conversation, neither person seeking to talk. The radio played some trashy J-rap song, and Kageyama couldn't tell if he was driving to the beat or if Irutora just swerved that much. Oh well, he was used to it, even if he would prefer a calm ride with seatbelts. The two arrive at the pub, Irutora beckoning him through the back door. He sees a familiar looking guy, but he can’t place why he recognizes him. Irutora introduces himself, asking for the owner. The man introduced himself as the head chef, seeing as the pub serves food despite being a place where people buy drinks a lot. Tobio didn't catch his name, but it’s not like he’d ever see the guy again. The owner walks in, and the standard greetings and business talk commences. Tobio introduces himself (last name only, he doesn't want random people knowing his full name.) The chef guy raises an eyebrow at him, and Kageyama hopes it's because it's a somewhat common name. The fact that the guy looked familiar was already bad enough. Irutora wraps things up with the owner, who hands him a wad of cash. (Who knows, Kageyama didn't.) Irutora goes to leave, nodding at Tobio as he leaves. The owner breaks the silence in his wake. 

“Ok. Welcome, Kageyama. Thanks for working with us, I'm sure Irutora has filled you in a bit. You will be assisting the bartender, serving drinks and cleaning glasses, whatever he needs. You won’t be mixing drinks, but you will likely pour some straight drinks, ok. The bartender will show up shortly to show you the basics of where everything is. You will be paid in cash at the end of the night. Any questions?”

Kageyama shook his head. The guy was told he was 19, and it's not like he never had to deal with alcohol before. Satisfied, the owner left him behind with the cook. The silence seemed more awkward than usual for Kageyama; the weird sense of familiarity was unnerving. The cook then asked something that really unnerved Kageyama. 

“Hey kid, how old are you?”

He was eyeing Kageyama suspiciously, and the cold sense of dread creeping in his veins was hard to ignore. Hoping he didn't look too much like a deer in the headlights, he answered. 

“19”

19 was his default fake age, young enough to be believable, and old enough not to raise too much suspicion. Luckily the man seemed to buy it. 

“Oh, you just looked pretty young. You actually reminded me of someone my son used to know. He's a highschooler though, so maybe not.”

The bartender couldn't have come fast enough. Kageyama had never had 5 minutes go so slowly. He just hoped the rest of the night would go smoothly. 

Lucky him, he thought. The rest of the night went smoothly, even if he couldn't shake the uneasiness of that interaction. He couldn't help but dwell on it now, even after he left with the money and flopped onto his bed at 1 in the morning. Walking through the sketchy area at night to get to the apartment wasn't fun, but he was used to it. That emergency pack of cigarettes really came in handy on nights like these. After putting down the cash and changing into nightwear, he had plenty of time to freak out about whatever the man could have meant. He just hoped with all his heart the man's kid wasn't on the Kitagawa volleyball team. Or going to Aoba Johsai. Or both. That would be the worst outcome. Not bothering to check his phone before charging it, the boy fell into a restless sleep. Tomorrow will be a test, that's for sure. 

“私は人生が私を連れて行くところならどこへでも行きます。私はすべてをチャンスに任せます。子供の頃から、そして今、私は成長しました。私は人生が私を連れて行くところならどこへでも行きます”

Chapter Text

Unfortunately, the good sleep Kageyama wished for wasn't happening. The couple next door decided tonight was just the night to be as loud as possible. If you're enjoying yourself there is no reason to be that loud, it sounded fake, like one of those badly written pornos the guy who used to live in that apartment watched religiously. He couldn't understand how that stuff could arouse anyone. Hey, at least he had something he could get Nishinoya and Tanaka. (He means some playboy magazine, not anything more.) Groaning, he tossed and turned to try and sleep,  seriously debating taking a handful of sleeping pills he kept in the cabinet for emergency situations. Knowing he would have to get up early, he decided against it. Giving up on sleep, he laid on his cold concrete floor. His tired brain could only manage incomplete thoughts and half baked emotions. Not for the first time in his life, he wishes he wasn't born. Not that he wants to die, he just… I Wish things were different. It doesn't make much sense, but he kinda got screwed over at birth. He used to be able to talk to his grandfather when he couldn't sleep. They would stay up and drink tea, talk about volleyball or whatever was on his mind. He hasn't had the security of someone who he could speak to freely since Kazuyo died. He envies Hinata in that aspect. The ginger seems to say whatever was on his mind, without fear or anxiety. He was so honest about everything, a kind of pushy, sociable, charm that made you want to talk to him. Sometimes when they walked to Ukai’s store after practice, amidst Hinata's rambling, Hinata would ask Kageyama a question about his life. Kageyama almost told him. Almost. He had wanted too, but he knew it would only screw things up. His living situation was unstable, in a way that would get him in deep shit if Takeda found out. Given that you're supposed to tell an adult about that kind of stuff, Hinata would probably tell Takeda immediately. So he shut his mouth and told the tangerine nothing. He knew that Hinata was nosy, and if he told him one thing, he'd tell him everything. He couldn't lose volleyball, even if it meant he never had any friends. Even if it meant staying up wishing he had befriended Hinata outside of volleyball, that he hung out with the team, that kita-ichi never happened, that he wasn't so alone- a loud noise next door- oh god. He is grateful for the distraction from his thoughts, no matter the distraction, but only for the moment. When you get tired, riddled with thoughts and unable to sleep, your mind starts to play some mean tricks on you. That moment when time seems to stand still and you become uncomfortably aware of everything. The cold concrete on his back, the quiet whispers on the streets outside, the intimate activities next door slowing down (not for long.), but most of all, the utter lonely silence that clung to Kageyama, suffocating him with a sort of inconsolable sadness. Breathing has never been so hard while being so easy. He was being swallowed whole by the void in his chest, an incurable ache of the heart. Somewhere in between heartbeats and bated breaths, Kageyama found an indisputable truth; he couldn't be alone with all that surrounds him, yet he is lonely. The revelation makes him even more so. He is too slow to stop the tears that roll soundlessly down his face. He needs anything to reassure him he’s not so alone, but nothing comes. He looks around at old volleyball matches, he almost watches one. Memories of laughter and late night curry with his grandfather in front of the TV watching the matches serve as a needle in his heart. He doesn't watch a match. Another noise. He couldn't stay here. It was dark and lonely and he couldn't stand the suffocating box of a house any longer-

Grabbing a volleyball and putting on tennis shoes, Kageyama leaves. It's 2am, and he needs to clear his head…. And fill his stomach. He forgot to eat dinner, which wouldn't have been an issue if not for the couple next door. Shooting a glare at the wall, he opens the fridge. There isn't much to eat but plain rice and sauce. He would usually get groceries on Thursdays, but.. He was occupied. Oh well, he had a little money, he could afford to go to the midnight diner down the street. Quietly opening the door, he escapes the confines of his apartment. Locking the door behind him, he escapes into the night air. It was stuffy with the scent of cigarettes and drunk salary men, but it was still a refreshing breath of air. 

What was he running from anyway, his own sorrows and loneliness? Pathetic. Even more so because he couldn't escape no matter how far or fast he ran. He had tried, but all that led to was sobbing on a park bench at 3 am. Just another lost soul, like his father, drowning in white powder till he died. Tobio was no better than him, instead distracting his misery with volleyball. He couldn't stand him or them or anyone. Especially not himself. And he's never going to change. (Long live the king). 

He runs quickly and quietly, a flash of shadow against the neon night. He tucks his volleyball under his arm (when did he bring it, he wonders. Why.) slowing down at the diner, he sees nobody inside. Well it's never busy on Thursdays. Ducking inside, he greets the shopkeep. Master, the regulars called him, so Tobio did too. The man nods, a light smile gracing his lips. Tobio orders chazuke with oolong tea. The man raises an eyebrow, as if asking why he would order a caffeinated tea at this time of night. He says nothing however, and Tobio is grateful for it. Tobio assumes it's because the man has seen so much running a place like this. The man goes in the back to prepare his food, leaving Tobio alone to look around. The shop has a very nostalgic atmosphere, and he recognises the record playing a song his grandfather liked. When the man brings out the food, Tobio thanks him quietly. Practically scarfing down the food, Tobio can feel the man's eyes on him, but he doesn't mind. He wouldn't pity Tobio, nor treat him any differently no matter what he knew. (The man didn't remind of his grandfather, he's just tired. That's all.) He finishes his food in silence, then puts money on the table and moves to leave. However, the man stops him at the door. 

“What is it?”

The man smiles, and motions to the money. 

“It's on the house kid. And make sure to get enough sleep, you're still young. Have a good night.”

Walking up to Kageyama, the man extended a hand and grasped Kageyama's hand. He had strong, callused hands (just like kazuyo san). With the other hand he placed the money in Kageyama's open palm. A bit stunned, (and taken down a rather nauseating ride down memory lane) he just stares at the man for a minute, trying not to cry. Only when the man cleared his throat did he come back to life. Catching himself before he got too awkward, he stammered a thanks and good night, trying not to convey his internal screaming. He then walked out, glancing back as he attempted to calm himself. The adrenaline of being about the most embarrassing, socially awkward being to ever exist was kicking in and he could feel his organs constrict. He needed to clear his head, and do away with this spiking anxious energy. He needed to play. Tightening his grip on the volleyball like a lifeline, he looks back once before taking off through the neon-dark. Or that's what should have happened, and would've if he hadn't bumped headfirst into a drunk guy, knocking him on his ass and ashing his cigarette. Fuck. Why does this always happen to him? Being the much less frazzled of the two, Kageyama gets up and offers a hand in apology. Well, until he sees the man's face. Now, it may have been a trick of the flickering neon lights, or a sleep deprived fake out, but the man kinda looked like coach Ukai. A drunken, irritated, might be coach Ukai, aka someone who would recognize him; and possibly get him in trouble. Or in the worst case scenario, kicked off the team. Now, the rational thing to do was turn around, apologize, and walk off hoping it wasn't him or he didn't recognize you. But, rationality wasn't Kageyama's strong suit generally, and it certainly wasn't given his… Night? Entire life? Either way, he didn't do the rational thing. Nope. He took cigarettes out of his pocket, chucked it at the man and yelled back a half assed apology at the man as he was running for his life in the other direction. He had never wanted to go back to the apartment more in his life. Between his utter panic, the confused shout of the maybe coach Ukai, and the poorly lit ground, he fell. The feeling of the cool concrete cutting his cheek up and bruising his arm did nothing to settle his panic. The adrenaline kicked up as he stumbled up, running as fast as he could toward his apartment. Not wanting the man to know where he lived, he made a mad jump for the fire escape, banging his knee on the metal. In the back of his mind, he thanked the gods for adrenaline, as it was a hell of a painkiller. Climbing swiftly up the fire escape, he all but stumbled and collapsed on the building's roof. Flopping over like a starfish, the breath he didn't realize he was holding stuttered out of him like Irutoras car engine starting up. He had gotten away, that's for sure. Coming down from the adrenaline took who knows how long, the late night sky a endless black backdrop for his being. It was fitting, how lonely he seemed looking up at it. A cold, dark, void rid of happiness. A shadow, the backdrop so the stars could shine. Something nobody loved or cared for, that who is always there, but never with. The night breeze washing over him made Kageyama shiver. The reality of the situation settling into his calmed state. Truthfully, the man probably wasn't Ukai, and if it was, there was no way he actually would've recognized him. He had likely just been paranoid because of the man at “work” earlier. Gosh he felt like a fool. He was always running, too scared of rejected to realize he brought it on himself anyways. Maybe he just wasn't ment to have friends. He was just so exhausted, tired to his bones. He wants nothing more than to sleep forever, but something told him that this type if exhaustion couldn't be fixed by sleep. With unshed tears burning at his eyes, he moves to get up, only to fall once more. Great. Sighing, he turns and picks up his volleyball, figuring he should just practice sets laying down if he can't move or sleep. Turning over to grab his volleyball, muscle memory guided his sets, the mindless rhythm of the ball hitting his fingertips leaving his mind to wander. The overwhelming weight of his thoughts should've made him nervous, their seriousness and subject far too real for a boy barely 15. But he remains numb, the odd, sickening feeling of finding comfort in one's own sorrow. He was used to the chasm that had opened under his feet when he realized he had to put the past behind him to pursue an uncertain future, one that may never come. The night breeze whistled through the sky, the chill a welcome feeling to the boy. He slows, remembers; "You just have to be that much better kid.”

… 

They didn’t need to know him or like him, as long as he stayed useful on and off the court

… 

But I'm still so lonely, even if I'm not alone

… 

I thought I was used to it

… 

Why do i still want friends 

…When did he get so tired… 

He wakes up to the sound of his phone's alarm blaring in his ears, like normal. The cold concrete on his back, morning sun shining down on him, the breeze making the volleyball he was clutching roll away, like nor-

Wait a fucking minute. 

Did he-

The memories of the previous night settle in. 

Shit. 

He did. 

Jolting up and ignoring the pain and bruising in his body (between his one sided foot chase last night and his impromptu concrete bed, he was a little banged up.), he runs to his apartment. Getting ready for school was treated like a video game speedrun, complete with a lack of sleep, a chugged energy drink, and some visible bruising. Making a mad dash through the back alleys towards the bus, he started to curse everyone that kept him up, the couple, the Ukai lookalike, and himself. You name them, he hated them right now. By the time he got to school, he was pretty worse for wear. Entering the gym as inconspicuously and hopefully as normally as possible. He went to put on his practice clothes, unfortunately for him, there were people in the locker room, well, one person, Asahi. unfortunately, this was the same guy who sent him that ominous DM, and given the fact that one, he didn't know what it was about, and 2, he was kind of beat up right now, this was not ideal. At least it wasn't someone like the captain, or God forbid Tsukishima, he did not want to know what that guy would say. He tries to make as little noise as possible and changes quickly as possible so he doesn't notice. Unfortunately, this just did not seem to be possible with his luck. 

“Oh hey Kageyama, I just wanted to ask if you got the text I sent you and- Holy shit are you ok?”

Ffuckk. The look of worry on his face was not comforting to Kageyama. Nor did the fact the gentle giant seemed nervous, almost as if waiting for him to show. He was not liking the implications of this. Trying to squish the feeling of being a fish out of water, he tried to give a good answer. All his simple mind could come up with was;

“Oh I'm fine, I just fell… On some concrete. Hard.”

Well that was pretty much the truth. Asahi didn't need to know all the details of the previous night. 

The other boy's stare wasn't very comforting still, and Kageyama couldn't shake the feeling he missed something. Oh. The text. 

“Oh. And uhh sorry I didn't get your text… I don't pay attention to my phone much.”

Another not quite a lie. He may be socially awkward to the point where he can't have normal conversation, but even he knows the best lies come from the truth. He was actually a really good liar when he needed to be, most of the time. Asahi didn't look quite convinced, but if there was anything Kageyama was naturally good at, it was ending conversations. Finishing up changing, he quickly walks out, leaving behind a concerned Asahi. Emerging into the gym, he was greeted with stares, from 4 people,  3 of which he didn't want whatsoever. At least the one who wasn't eyeing him like he was a newly discovered species spoke first. Daichi, ever the voice of reason and maturity, also ignores it. Opting to get speaking to Kageyama over with, he gets straight to the point. 

“Alright. We're having a sort of informal training camp with Aoba Johsai for these weeks, and we need our team to be on its A game. So, you and the other first years will all be practicing together. I know you don't all get along, but I don't care. We are a team, and need to behave as such. Whatever issues you have will need to be sorted out, specifically Tsukishima and Hinata. Do I make myself clear?”

Kageyama tries to nod normally, even if he is panicking excessively inside. It was just working with them on volleyball. He could manage, he just needed to keep talking to a minimum. Turning to join the other first years, who did nothing to hide their stares. Kageyama didn't like the way they seemed to be studying him, specifically the shrimp and Tsukishima. Nodding at them he starts warming up, avoiding their awkward small talk and any eye contact. It was going pretty well, for the most part. He didn't give responses to questions, only giving noncommittal shrugs before continuing to practice. Meanwhile, Hinata was getting frustrated. Not only was Kageyama being as closed off as ever, Tsukishima was giving him an infuriating look. Bastard. Of course, it didn't last long as Kageyama was also ignoring most of his taunts. Hinata would've high-fived Kageyama if he didn't feel so frustrated because of his refusal to open up just a little bit. The only full sentence he said was when Yamaguchi asked after the bruises on his face and legs, but even his monotone “volleyball practice” was barely an answer. He was so fed up that he said nothing when Tsukishima said “Wow, is this why you have no friends? I thought it was your on court attitude, but could it just be your non-existent personality?” Truthfully, Hinata was glad Tsukishima was an asshole for once. Sometimes he was a right ass he wanted to punch in the face, but sometimes he addressed the elephant when nobody else would. Of course, Tsukishima was wrong about Kageyama not having a personality, because he had one. The problem was he only showed the bad parts of it. (Hinata gave him the benefit of the doubt that he had good parts he refused to show for whatever reason.) Either way, Tsukishima's remark was enough to make Kageyama say something. 

“Maybe, but I don't try to make friends either.”

Hinata was confused. Why wouldn't you want to try and make friends? Tsukishima seemed to scoff and take the answer, upset he reacted calmly, but also believing the answer. Well it takes an anti-social asshole to know another. But Hinata was nothing if not stubborn, and he would get more information out of Kageyama, forcefully if necessary. 

“Well why wouldn't you try to make friends? Everyone needs friends and they don't just magically appear.”

Kageyama seemed to scowl at the remark, a victory for Hinata and Tsukishima, the familiar look on his face was promising. But then Kageyama dropped a bomb on them. Figuratively. 

“Tch. You don't need friends dumbass, I've never had a friend before and I'm just fine without them.”

What. Even Tsukishima seemed surprised enough to forget a nasty comment back. Never had a friend? That seemed terrible, wasn't Kageyama lonely? Hinata would think for sure, but he said it like it was normal, hell, like it was weird to need friends. He was about to make a rebuttal, but before he could say anything, the bell rang. Before the tangerine could do anything, the raven haired boy was gone. Growling in frustration, Hinata almost chased after him. Almost. Unfortunately he had a science quiz he needed to study for last minute. Stupid grades. 

Meanwhile, Kageyama didn't think he had ever left a room faster in his life. He can't believe he just said that. At least it shut the shrimp up long enough to escape, talk about being saved by the bell. The boy banged his head on the desk, not caring about the stares or whatever his English teacher was droning on about. The adrenaline might be wearing off, but the panic was seeping in rapidly. At least the whole gym didn't hear, but he's still worried that he opened up a floodgate he couldn't close. Surely his poor choices would lead to questions he would eventually have to answer. Trying to calm himself down, he tells himself to just play it off. Stay calm, and don't let them think you care. He hadn't meant to say it like that, so he could play it off as poor word choice. Give a final answer, leave no further questions, and end the conversation as quickly as it starts. He was good at that. It would be alright, he has till afternoon practice, and he will surely be able to deal with it then. 

Lunch period came with the sound of a ringing bell, the sound of salvation for the highschoolers. Sitting in their normal spot, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima were content to eat quietly and maybe talk about the new Jurassic Park movie coming out. Yamaguchi liked the quiet atmosphere to eat, the familiarity of eating with his best friend was calming. “A quiet meal is always better if you're quiet together”, his mother always said. Yamaguchi never liked super loud things, which is one of the reasons he valued Tsukishima as a friend. They both liked quiet, and didn't force themselves to spend time together when they didn't feel like talking. Despite Tsukishima being a total Tsundere, Yamaguchi knew Tsukishima appreciated him the same. He was always glad that they became close, and he didn't regret calling him his best friend. Mostly. He's really not sure what he would do without Tsukishima by his side, he could hardly remember a time when they weren't best friends. Smiling, he ate his Onigiri, the smile which then turned into a smirk at the sight of Hinata running up behind Tsukishima. Sure, he would miss the peace, but whatever was about to happen would likely be too funny to pass up. Noticing his change in expression, Tsukishima raises an eyebrow, only for the other one to fly up in surprise when Hinata shouted in his ear. While Yamaguchi was having a good time trying to suppress his laughter, Tsukishima was about to lose the moral battle and give in to murder. You could hear him seething as he begrudgingly acknowledges the others presence. 

“What. Do. You. Want." 

“Don't be like that Tsukishima! Kageyama might not have any friends, but you aren't much better!”

“Oh so that's what this is about, huh? You've come to cry to me about how Kageyama doesn't want to be your friend like a kindergartener.”

“Wha- no!! And he never said he didn't want to be friends, he just said he didn't  need friends. There's a difference you know?. 

“Yes, im just suprised you know the difference.”

“WHat- you take that back! Ugh, your just like Kageyama sometimes you fucking jerk.”

“Ew. You take that back, I am much smarter than him. Now leave us alone.”

“I don't know Tsuki, he has a point. I think you and Kageyama would make great friends with how much you have in common.”

“YAMAGUCHI”

“Hehe, sorry Tsuki” (he wasn't sorry at all) 

Hinata started cackling, imagining Tsukishima and Kageyama as friends when they would fight like cats and dogs. He starts laughing even harder imagining the two as cars and dogs. Well until Tsukishima getting ready to take his eye out with chopsticks back to the matter at hand. 

“Ok, ok. But still, maybe we've got Kageyama all wrong. I think he would be a lot more agreeable if he had some friends. Maybe that's it! All he needs is a friend and everything will be fine.”

“Well that's great and all, but I'm not going to try and be friends with the king. I can barely stand him half of the time, and getting to know him is like trying to steal from a casino. You can leave that to yourself." 

“Ughh but c'mon Tsukiii, won't it be nice if he's less I don't know… Angry all the time?" 

Tsukishima paused for a second. It would be a welcome break to have the king be less angry and more like a… Human beings and not a volleyball It would certainly make him easier to be around. But that does not mean he wants to be the king's friend. Sighing, he gives the Hi-C colored midget next to him an answer. 

“Fine. But you're doing all the work. I don't want to be his friend, but I'll help you become friends with him for my own sake. And don't call me Tsuki. Ever.”

“Alright alright Tsuki shima. But you better not… Mess things up for me during afternoon practice!”

Before Tsukishima could ask what the hell that entails, the boy had run off to do fuck knows. Irritated, Tsukishima grits his teeth. This was so stupid. It will be easy for the king and the shrimp to be friends if they bonded over how infuriating they both were. 

“You sure you don't want to be Kageyama's friend??”

Tsukishima just glared at his best friend, who just left. They were all assholes, and afternoon practice was shaping up to be a test of his patience. Based on the look Yamaguchi was giving him, the other had read his mind and wasn't going to let him mess shit up on purpose for some entertainment. Just great. 

Arriving at afternoon practice, Kageyama was determined for things to go smoothly. Readying himself, he starts practicing right away, avoiding any chatter. Hinata was blatantly staring at him, almost like he was looking for an opening. Tsukishima was at least subtle about his staring, but it was still annoying. Sighing, he just goes to focus on practice. Things were going great, well until Hinata decided that whatever opening he seemed to be looking for was now. So, for whatever reason, the tangerine decided to ask him a question. 

“So Kageyama…I’ve never heard you talk about your family. Why? Even Tsukishima does.”

Ok, Hinata hadn’t meant for the question to sound that Judgemental or invasive, but it was something. He was trying ok?

“What.”

Ok yeah, Kageyama did not seem to like that question, but it was ok. Hinata could fix this. 

“Oh, uhh…sorry, I uh, didn’t mean for it to sound that way…I was just wondering you know. Like I have a sister! Do You have any siblings…?”

Kageyama was trying not to panic. The question was already bad enough, but the fact the conversation wasn’t ending made him scared. So much for things going well. The dumbass had practically started yelling, so now everyone was looking at him. The pressure was making him panic. Does he lie? He doesn’t know what to say. Sister? He had a sister. He could work with that. Trying not to look too freaked out, he gave a hopefully normal response.

“Uhmm…Yeah. Why do you wanna know?”

For some reason, Tsukishima started snickering at this, which seemed only to further Hinata’s determination. Fuck. Kageyama hates it here. 

“Really?? I have a sibling too! My little sister-”

“We know”

“SHUT UP TSUKISHIMA! Anyway, what’s your sibling or whatever?”

Oh. My. God. Tsukishima is fucking laughing now. Hinata looks like a kid on christmas, everyone is staring, awaiting an answer. Fuck. Kageyama wants to die. 

“Uhh, well I have an older sister I guess. She’s 8 years older though so I don’t see her much.”

Good. an acceptable answer that makes sense. Unfortunately, Hinata has gotten one answer, and doesn’t seem to let up on his nosy crusade against any hope of a peaceful existence for Kageyama. 

“Oh that sucks. I’m really close with my little sister, I could never go too long without seeing her. Why don’t you see her much?”

Great. More questions. And more people are awaiting answers. As soon as Kageyama uttered the words “Older sister” Tanaka and Nishinoya became very invested in their little talk. And so of course, because the universe would never give him a break, they had to chime in with questions of their own. 

“An older sister? What does she look like and why haven’t we met her yet huh?”

“Yeah, we’re your senpai, you gotta introduce us! C’mon mann”

As much as he didn’t really like the fact they were hitting on his sister who wasn’t even there, he was grateful that they had steered the course of conversation away from a much more personal and volatile subject. Ignoring the clashing sensations of panic and something akin to warmth, he gives them a vague, but true answer.

“Well, she kinda looks like an older version of Kiyoko-san, but more like me. The-”

Kageyama quickly realized his mistake when Tanaka and Nishinoyas eyes seemed to light up.

“Like Kiyoko-san! Kageyamaaaa you can’t just have a beautiful sister and not introduce us, C’monnn”

“Yeah, I thought we were teammates man, don’t be shy, introduce us!! We’ll make her feel real welcome.”

Trying not to look disgusted or remotely and oddly touched, he tries to say his sentence fully for one.

“As I was saying, The reason I haven’t introduced her or seen her in a while is because she lives in Tokyo. She’s 8 years older, so she’s already a busy adult. She doesn’t have time to just come here.”

Kageyama tried not to show the unspoken “she doesn’t have time for me” on his face. But based on the looks the other first years are sending him, he’s not doing a great job. Thankfully, Sugawara practically rescues him.

“OI. Leave him alone you 2. We have practice matches soon and we want to be on our A game. Less talking, more practicing.”

Thank god for Sugawara. The vice captain was helpful and kind, and even though he should hate Kageyama, the boy was still a good senpai to him. Kageyama tries to show his gratitude, but his face is perpetually annoyed, so he just sends an appreciative nod. Sugawara seems to get it though. With everyone now focusing on practice, Kageyama is content. Even if he can’t have friends, being able to practice with the team gives him enough of a sense of camaraderie and bonding to suffice. Even with the threat of aoba johsai meatbun gatherings looming low on the horizon, he feels calm. Volleyball just has that effect on him. Everything was alright. 

(Well ignoring Hinata's stares and both the feeling of belonging and lonely longing welling up in the void in his heart, of course.)

Chapter Text

Everything was not alright. He's really not sure what to expect, but for once his worst fears seemed completely rational. After Sugawara saved him, practice went, well, well. Things were strangely good, which is probably why he didn't notice the snowball effect of bad shit until it hit the fan. He went to corner Daichi briefly after practice, which went ok. Daichi was appreciative of his efforts and didn't even raise too much fuss when Kageyama requested, he didn't tell anyone. Well, mostly. He did ask him one thing. 

“Where did you even get this money??" 

Kageyama did panic a bit; he obviously can't tell him the whole truth. But he managed to give a good cover story. Well, a believable one. 

“Uhm, I work as a waiter to make some extra cash. My parents don't give me allowance (technically true), so I get money that way. This is just extra I saved.”

Now, he did almost have a heart attack when Daichi laughed skeptically, but it turns out the other just didn't think he would make a good waiter with his social skills. Kageyama wasn't even insulted, just worried that his excuse was too far-fetched. But Daichi seemed to buy it, so it didn't matter. A victory was a victory. Feeling better about his life, he felt content to fall in the background, awkwardly avoiding everyone else for the rest of the evening. He should've known it wasn't going to be that simple. 

Walking to the store with the team was… probably a sign something bad was coming. Hinata must've decided that leaving him alone and letting him have peace would be a travesty. Now, usually Tsukishima would be fed up with all the loud babbling, but he was being unusually tolerant of the ginger. If Kageyama didn't know any better, he would say they're ganging up on him. He denied it's possibility because Tsukishima would never willingly partner with Hinata. Either way, he was subject to a ridiculous amount of overly enthusiastic stories and questions bordering on invasive, and the one bastard that could shut him up would rather watch Kageyama suffer. Kageyama decided he would remove all their fingernails as painfully as possible if they didn't need them for volleyball. Because seriously, who the hell borderline yells a question about a person's favorite underwear brand? And that wasn't even that bad compared to some of its predecessors. Now Kageyama could avoid answering some questions, being that ridiculous they were. But all his yelling shitty questions got everyone else's attention. Besides the fact that this was incredibly embarrassing, that meant everyone's attention was on him for the other, more normal questions. And that was a huge problem, because he now has to answer them to avoid being a total asshat. He needed to be on better terms with his teammates, but this was severely pushing his limits. If the ginger had a lick of brainpower Kageyama would think the boy planned, it that way. (Another, more paranoid part of his brain thought Tsukishima might've had a hand in this.) Either way, his teammates now knew actual personal stuff about him. Even if it's something little, like how he's never had a pet, or his favorite brand of box milk. It felt too friendly, and Kageyama refused to get his hopes up. Never again. Luckily, Hinata was seemingly satisfied with Kageyama and his answers and had just started talking normally. Ignoring the pleased looks Sugawara was sending his way, he started to mentally prepare himself. At the end of the day, there was nothing like his former teammates to reinforce the truth. Kageyama Tobio doesn't do friendship. 

Coach Ukais shop had a warm feeling. The smell of warm meat buns and a cluttered interior that probably hasn't been redesigned since 1985. A familiar comfort. Unfortunately, Kageyama has been too busy hiding in the corner avoiding the various gazes sent his way since he got here. They had met the other team at the shop, and all Kageyama had to deal with was a couple glares while the teams exchanged meaningless pleasantries and silly taunts. Unfortunately, that didn't last for long. Of course, Oikawa was the first to acknowledge the awkward tension between the five. In true Oikawa fashion, he had to make sure all eyes were on him as he did. 

“Oh well if it isn't Tobio-Chan! Still a surprise to see you here, I didn't think you would go to Karasuno, you know.”

Great. Just great. Kageyama wanted to crawl under a rock and never leave. Oikawa was grinning menacingly, a sickly-sweet fake smile plastered on his face. And worst of all, his confused teammates were staring at him. Unsurprisingly the three loudmouths didn't waste a second basking in surprise and just went straight to being nosy. 

“WHAAA BAKAYAMA YOU REALLY KNOW OIKAWA?!?!" 

“HUH”

and

“YOU ACTUALLY KNOW THIS PRETTY BOY BASTARD”

Kageyama was developing a headache at record pace. Giving in to his inevitable suffering, he mumbles a quick answer. 

“Uhm… Yeah. Oikawa-San was my senpai back in middle school.”

(Let it be known he tried very hard not to stress the was.) 

“Well, I guess that makes sense.”

“Yeah, it explains how Oikawa mentioned him in the group chat." 

And then the dreaded comment, the one Kageyama probably should've expected, came straight from Tsukishima's mouth. 

“Oh, I thought you just knew him because of the people who went to his middle school on your team. I guess it makes sense though. He must've learned from someone.”

Kageyama didn't need to look at Tsukishima to see the sneer. It was bait, and he knew it. Kageyama wisely said nothing, but the light flinch gave it away. The implication was clear, and Oikawa knew what he meant by that. The irritation on his face was only hidden so well. If this wasn't so awful, Kageyama would find it ironic. Oikawa never tried to teach him shit. Kageyama was too naive back then to see how much Oikawa hated him from the start, but he knew now. Everything he learned from Oikawa was done by himself. (Not that anyone noticed. He was already a “genius” by then, and geniuses don't learn, they just do.”) 

Oikawa spoke with practiced politeness, something Kageyama wouldn't fall for again. 

“Ahah. Well, I am an amazing senpai, but I only taught him so much. He is a genius after all, so he never had to listen to me all that much.”

Kageyama wanted to scream. He would've listened to all of his advice had he actually given it, instead of letting him figure everything out on his own. The only thing he failed to listen to was the warning signs. Before he even knew it, he had become what Oikawa always thought him to be; never a teammate or kohai, but a genius and a threat. ( He knew what happened in middle school was his fault, but sometimes he can't help but wonder. Was the king born, or made?) 

Oikawa clears his throat, always able to command attention, but never seems kingly or arrogant. ( Why was Kageyama a threat, when Oikawa had everything he could never have. If Oikawa was a mob boss, Kageyama would be nothing but a hired Hitman. A shadow, never quite a part of the team, even if he had the skills. Untrusted and unliked. He could never catch up, never leave the shadow.” )

“Well anyways, speaking of middle school, I'm surprised Tobio-Chan didn't come to Aoba Johsai. All his middle school teammates did. I know he wanted to go to Shiratorizawa, but he must not have gotten a scholarship. So, Tobio-Chan, what made you pick Karasuno?”

Fuck. He could translate that into what Oikawa really means. “We all know why; I just want to watch you squirm. Go on, admit defeat.”

Kageyama balled up his fists. Why couldn't they just let him be? Couldn't they see he was trying his hardest, so why? Was he not genius enough? Was his pain not cool enough? Was he not enough? He could feel their stares, and he knew. He knew. But he wouldn't cry. He couldn't. They wouldn't have the satisfaction. They could have the truth. But he wouldn't be pitied nor looked down on. Not anymore. They would get the truth, but not the one they wanted. Not the full truth. The truth he couldn't tell. Never. 

“Uhh… Well- (he sounded like shit. He felt like shit. God. They knew.) uh, my parents, they don't have a lot of money. The only reason I was able to go to Kita-ichi was because a relative worked there for a long time. Aoba Johsai would've been too much financial stress for many reasons. So… Yeah”

Again, not the full truth, but the part truth. Kageyama knew he was a terrible liar, so he didn't lie. He just didn't tell everything. He was good at hiding and not talking, and that could cover his tracks. Either way, his point got across. Reactions varied from Oikawa's surprised and somewhat embarrassed, to Kindaichis… Rage? Kageyama couldn't figure out why, but the other boy looked upset. The tension in the room was suffocating, until Iwaizumi broke the silence. 

“Alright enough. Shittykawa, apologize to the poor kid.”

“Hey! Always so vulgar Iwa-chan, think of the others.”

One death glare from Iwaizumi made Oikawa shut up. Even if it didn't look like it, they were best friends. They balanced each other out perfectly, even if it came with a boat load of insults. ( Kageyama used to want a friendship like that. Used to. Not anymore.) 

They complimented each other well, and Iwaizumi kept Oikawa in line, something Kageyama was incredibly grateful for. (Especially looking back on his first year of middle school. Yikes, did Iwaizumi save him from his own stupidity all the time.) this time, Oikawa spoke a lot nicer. 

“Ah, sorry Tobio-chan. I was just messing with you, I didn't mean to pry. Just wanted to catch up with my former Kohai, that's all.”

Despite some of his apology being a lie, it felt surprisingly genuine. Kageyama hated the way it made him feel. He supposed he would always look up to Oikawa, even if Oikawa would never acknowledge him. 

“Speaking of, how have you been Kageyama? It's great to see you again, even if we go to different schools.”

Kageyama internally smiled. Even if he didn't like him all that much, Iwaizumi was nice to him, and looked out for him. Even if Kageyama was no longer his Kohai. 

“Ah, it's been fine. I hope things are going well for you Iwaizumi-san.”

The older boy just smiled, then diverted his attention to Coach Ukai bringing them all meat buns. Kageyama nodded to Oikawa, before getting a meatbun and sitting off to the side, content to be forgotten amongst the chatter. With attention mostly diverted, Kageyama was out of the woods for now, feeling the worst of the evening had passed. 

Despite his rocky start of the evening, Oikawa couldn't help taking glances at his former Kohai. He was… Conflicted. Don't get him wrong, he strongly disliked the egotistical little genius. He was tied with that Ushiwaka bastard, dislike mostly evened out by the fact that he would be Oikawas main competitor as they play the same role. But still, he was a kid, and a part of Oikawa wondered whether he was truly a threat. I mean obviously, he was a prodigy who was able to achieve the same results so much faster, easily scoffed in the face of Oikawa's blood, sweat, and tears. But… Looking back from a slightly more mature light, he may have overreacted. Sure, the kid was blind to warning signs, standoffish, and genuinely, soul-crushingly talented. He had it all, and if he didn't, he got it down faster than Oikawa could ever dream. But… Did he really? He was always an awkward kid, and his social awareness was truly abysmal. Oikawa taught teamwork, it was one of the most important parts of volleyball, and he knew first year Kageyama listened to everything he said. He wasn't even a bad teammate then, he just didn't quite fit in. So, what happened to that innocent, over eager boy who always stayed optimistic? What happened in two years? He saw the king of the court. He felt his own twisted satisfaction at his failure, but a smaller, more remorseful part of him added a pang of regret. Whatever wedge between Kageyama and the team probably started with him and his poorly disguised hatred. Was he the one who crowned the king of the court? He brushed it off then, but now he revisits. Perhaps he was just kindling for a fire, and the match was something else entirely. He knew it wasn't Kindaichi or Kunimi's fault, and while the coaches probably fucked some of it up, that couldn't have been all. You could always blame ego, or just blame Kageyama himself. While tempting, Oikawa knew that the blame here was (just a little bit) shared. But things were more complex than that now. It had only taken one summer for Kageyama to change. Not revert back to the boy Oikawa first met but change into something else entirely. This raised even more questions, and only left a few answers. But it did make one thing clear, that the king of the court was made, not born like Kindaichi's belief. While a bitter pill to swallow, the way things have played out, the king of the court was bigger than any of them. Something likely happened outside of volleyball. Something big. But the boy was a mystery, one that Oikawa would likely never solve. And it bothers him to no end. Kageyama Tobio felt more untouchable than ever, a wild card, and a definite threat. As much as the boy was a terrible teammate and Oikawa really did not like him, he was upset when he found out Kageyama wasn't going to Aoba Johsai. At their first practice when the boy didn't show, with his head down in a clear embodiment of regret, it filled Oikawa with rage, and as much as he hates to admit, fear. Who did the boy think he was, acting like he didn't even care about Oikawa any longer. Like he was any better. No longer could he put him in his place, keep him where he wanted and beat him later, on his own terms. He could understand why Kindaichi was so upset about the whole thing. He was almost unscathed, his own actions in the past, put Oikawa and his middle school team as an afterthought. He was a terrible liar, and his reason for not attending was true. And now Oikawa was stuck simmering in a puddle of guilt and anger. The prodigy, king of the court, and now? Nobody knew, and the effects of this weren't only hard on him. He hoped Kindaichi was ok. He seemed to be taking things pretty badly, especially tonight. 

Kindaichi and Kunimi walked together back home like always. Said their parting words for the night at the intertwined crossing of their streets. Just like always. Except it wasn't. Kindaichi was upset. And just like old times, it was all Kageyama's fault. Why? Just why? Did middle school mean nothing to him? He was so sure Kageyama was just an asshole, a egotistical king through and through. But now… He wasn't so sure. And he hated it. Was it something wrong with him? He seemed so easily able to change his course when Kindaichi wasn't there. It felt personal, like he was the problem. He was trying to wipe the tears of frustration and helplessness from his eyes as he entered his home. His father who was waiting for him because work finished early for him that day was quick to ask what was wrong. Kindaichi's dad knew about Kageyama, and that whole situation already. Kindaichi was very close with his parents, talking to them all the time, and they were always there for him, ready to listen. So, he tells the truth. The unfairness, how Kageyama acted and what he might've lied about to rub salt in a wound, his own fears and self-doubt. He asks through tears for his father's guidance. The man looks serious, not one to brush off anything troubling his son. He was also one to give his son the best guidance he could. He understood that his advice stems from more life experience, and even if his opinion and truth would be difficult to talk through, he couldn't coddle the boy. He would explain what he knew, the events of last night at work may be difficult to explain in a way that comforted his son. So, he talked and explained what he knew, sparing no detail. What happens is uncertain, but he hopes his information would give his son some closure. As the boy stops crying and goes to bed with newfound answers, the father can only hope his boy will choose to help the other. While he didn't like the Kageyama boys' actions, nobody deserves to be exploited by their parents because of money, and he clearly needs help. As a parent, it upsets him greatly. He can only hope that both boys can find it in themselves to put aside their differences and help one another. He also wishes to send some strongly worded messages to Kageyama Tobio's parents and the Kita-ichi coaches. But he would leave that to his wife. For now, he can only hope everything will turn out in his Yuutaros best interest. Because that's what every parent should want for their child. 

My mood board is just pictures of you, but I'm not sad anymore

So make no plans and none can be broken, no plans and none can be broken

But I didn't take the love when I had the chance, but I swear I'm not sad anymore

So make no plans and none can be broken, no plans and none can be broken

Do you laugh about me whenever I leave?

Or do I still need more therapy?

Love is in the air, I just gotta figure out a window to break out

Buried alive inside my dreams, but it was all a fake-out

And I don't care, I just gotta figure out a window to break out

Buried alive inside my dreams, but it was all a fake-out, fake-out

Oh-oh, we all started out as shiny dimes

But we all got flipped too many times

We did it for futures that never came

And for pasts that we're never gonna change

• Fake Out, by fall out boy

Chapter Text

Walking along a dark street, Kageyama reflects. The night, while starting disastrous, ended well. All in all, he felt…not better. But, lighter in a way. He tried not to dwell, seeing as he still had a fair amount of issues caused by it anyway. He felt like everyone had a different (and incorrect) assumption about his darkest secret. Needless to say, he wasn’t thrilled going forward, but he was still going. Always pushing forward, towards a future that may never come, chasing a better outcome always out of reach. He tried so hard for so long that for the longest time he didn’t notice people thought he was a genius. They didn’t understand he was working hard, and he didn’t understand that they were too. He always saw ways they could improve, but…it never came out right. Daichi, Oikawa, all his senpai, they somehow pushed their team to improve without being an asshole, so why couldn’t he? Why couldn’t he bring out the drive in everyone, but only their anger.

(There had to be something wrong with him. It wasn’t just his teammates after all.)

The goal of the setter was to make plays happen, to manipulate the court to their teams favor. At first, he tried to do so through complete control, blindly trying to push people to his level. Angry and sharp critiques, filled with an emotion from beyond the court.

(He was angry, angry at them for not being able to see what he saw, understand his words or have his back. His grandfather would be so, so disappointed. He was angry at himself. He failed. He failed everyone.)

But that wasn’t the answer. So he went to Karasuno, he saw Sugawara, someone who reminded him of a nicer Oikawa, someone less skilled than Oikawa, but with the similar setting style that complimented each teammate, safe and easy for them. But…That didn’t really work either. While his teammates could hit his sets, they didn’t get that value of improvement. And with many players with unrefined skills (Hinata), Kageyama couldn’t just not say anything. His kingly nature mainly showed with the ginger, as the other boy, despite his athleticism, was pretty terribly unskilled. But Kageyama knew his potential. So he snapped at him like a king, telling him exactly what he was doing wrong, but still gave him the toss he needed. But that only worked for so long, and his bad communication caught up with him yet again. So here he was, walking to the grocery store at a questionable hour alone, thinking about volleyball. Despite the nagging voice in the back of his head telling him that his solution to his communication issues was a terrible idea, he ignored it. It made sense. If he was good enough, he could make up for his lack of communication skills, his teammates' faults, and he could find someone better. 

“You just have to be that much better kid.”

“If you become strong enough, I promise you someone stronger will appear right before your eyes.”

I'll be better, for someone stronger who can tell me what im missing, for grandfather, and for all the things I fucked up.

I'll be better

I promise

I'll become better, no matter how much sleep I lose, how much blood, sweat and tears I shed, no matter the potential friends I never make. 

I’ll be better.

Sighing, he opens the door to the small local grocery store, a dingy little place run by an old lady. Not very nice, but she gave him discounts. Half in his own head, he goes through the stuff he buys every time, as well as any extras. Healthy foods, simple recipes he will get up at the ass crack of dawn to prepare. He remembers a time not too long ago, eating lunch with Hinata. The ginger had marveled at his bento, loudly exclaiming he wishes he could have food like that. Kageyama had stiffened at that. Even with the other boys' less healthy lunch, his mom had made it. Kageyama had told him so, except he left out the part where he told the other boy he had to get up every sunday at 5:00 am before his morning run to prepare everything and start the rice cooker just to have lunch for the week. Hinata didn’t need to know his misery. Or him at all. They got along well enough when it came to volleyball, Kageyama didn’t want to push his luck. He refused to rely on others. Hinata had quickly stuttered at Kageyama's chastising, spouting on about how he would never be ungrateful for his mother. He then proceeded to ask Kageyama if he could get the recipes from his mom. The other boy simply wished to eat healthy foods to help with athletic performance, and “obtain the secrets of height”. But all Kageyama could think of was the fact Hinata thought he was just like him, his mom packing him nice bentos. Pangs of jealousy and sadness took over, so instead of just being normal and saying he would, he snapped, just like always. Kageyama said there was no way in hell he would, wrapping it up by saying that it wouldn’t make him much taller, his height wasn’t a problem anyway. The boy only took it with mild annoyance, well, Kageyama thought he did at least.

Why couldn’t he just be normal? 

(deep down, he wonders if he was nicer to Hinata off-court when he didn’t need the harshness, he would still be on good terms with the ginger, and not on whatever these awkward, nosy, and frankly disturbing past few days had settled into. It was weird…but also oddly friendly. Which was stupid. The ginger would never be his friend, Kageyama didn’t have friends.)

Walking to the checkout, he remembers tomorrow. If he remembers correctly, (he was halfway tuned out of any conversation at that point.) They were taking the bus to Aoba Johsai. Unfortunately, the school had a very tight budget when it came to their volleyball club. So, their bus was too small for everyone. Thanks to Tanaka, however, there was another option. His sister's van, which would fit four. Apparently, the best way to pick four was just to send the first years to the van. Fine by Kageyama, even though he was a bit worried by Tanaka's preemptive apologies. Oh well, couldn’t be worse than Irutora (no offense to him, Kageyama was grateful for the rides). Stopping by an aisle, he picks up an energy drink and an Onigiri to go. Since they were leaving early, Kageyama would just get everything ready tonight, wake up early, and drink the energy drink to give him a boost. Given he would need to study up on Aoba Johsai old matches,  and pack a lunch (they were there most of the day.). Paying for his food and leaving, he walks out into the quickly darkening night to his apartment. 

Unlocking his door, Kageyama turns on the light before quickly closing the door and locking it. (he was not about to get robbed.) The clock on his oven read 8:00pm, leaving a good amount of time for Kageyama to get ready. Starting the rice cooker and defrosting some leftover chicken, he walks to his room to change out of his practice uniform and into his pajamas, he packs his volleyball bag, leaving it by the door. Ignoring the hollowness in his heart. (Nights like these were unbearably lonely, reminding him of all he couldn’t have.) Cooking up a quick and healthy chicken and vegetable dish, he assembles his bento, adding the rice and some sides of pickled vegetables and a protein bar. Once assembled, he throws it in the fridge with a milk box, ready to go. It was 9:15 now, he had time to kill. Eyes wandering the lonely space, gaze falling on the T.V and Vhs taped volleyball matches, he has to swallow the lump in his throat. He hated watching the matches alone, it didn’t feel right, not with the absence of his grandfather. Nothing did. But he knew he had too. Grabbing his volleyball journal, his hand care kit and popping the volleyball tape. It hurt. It hurt as he wrote without his grandfather's words of advice, it hurt as he watched the game and turned to see nobody instead of crinkled eyes and a strong hand pointing out plays. If his vision started to blur as he filed his nails, it didn’t matter. Nobody was there to tell him it was ok. After the T.V screen went dark and the loneliness consumed, he couldn’t take it. Silent sobs wracked his body, unable to stop. His mind, flooded with questions, the constant melancholic “why me' ' that flooded up from the back of his mind. He just wanted his grandfather, but he was gone. Cursing himself, he tries to force himself to stop crying. It wouldn’t do him any good. No amount of tears, volleyball, or running would raise the dead. By the time he stopped, numb with grief, it was 11:30. Setting his alarm to 4:30 am, he falls into a dreamless sleep. He would need as much rest as he could get for tomorrow. His Grandfather wouldn’t want for him to be so stuck in his grief to miss out on a volleyball opportunity, after all.

It’s still dark outside when his alarm so rudely wakes him up. 5 hours probably wasn’t enough sleep for the day, but oh well. Hopefully he will be able to sleep some on the ride, atleast. He needed to be at Karasuno at 6 am, so he had to wake up terribly early to get there. He could’ve gotten up at 5 if the fucking bus wasn’t going to be horribly late given the early hour. Groaning, he manages to flop out of bed, almost falling back asleep at least three times, but he can’t be late. Not for volleyball, ( to prove a point.) He manages to step into a shockingly cold shower by 4:45, one that was supposed to be only a little cold, but someone must have used up all the water in the building. At the very least it woke him up a bit. Putting on his clothes and going to brush his teeth, he glances at the mirror. He looks like shit. Why did he let himself cry? Stupid, stupid feelings. Splashing cold water on his face, he double checks he has everything, before taking a deep breath, and walking out the door.

Walking to the bus stop wasn’t bad, even if he felt a bit uneasy. Sitting down on the bench, he begins the wait for the dimly lit bus to pick him up. Footsteps alert him of another waiting for the bus, homeless by the looks of it. The man doesn’t acknowledge him, (thank god) and just goe to light up a cigarette. Kageyama paid him no mind, until he heard the man cursing his seemingly broken lighter. Noticing the man's growing agitation, Kageyama weighs his options. He could either leave the man alone and potentially be victim to his rage, or hand him the lighter he carried with him for safety purposes. Despite his better judgment, he hands the man the lighter wordlessly. Maybe it was his tired brain, but a half baked justification of “It’s good practice, for wordlessly doing favors.” popped into his mind as soon as any regret had the chance to rear its head. Unfortunately, the man also took it as an invitation to sit right next to Kageyama, ( not that he would say shit, he didn’t know this guy.) This normally wouldn’t be an issue, but he would now have to smell like a cigarette. Just peachy. 

Everyones going to notice too, fucking great. He didn’t need that conversation, let alone any repercussions, but it appears the universe hates Kageyama. 

Thankfully the bus comes, the man gives him back the lighter and he sits alone once more. As he sits and stares out the window silently, the tiredness that had kept itself at bay was starting to crash down on him in waves. Unfortunately, he couldn’t sleep on the bus or risk missing his stop. Cracking open the energy drink and taking a sip, he nervously bounces his leg until he reaches his stop. 

Walking to the school through a quiet neighborhood was calming. Discarding the now empty energy drink can, the lone boy approached the quiet high school at 5:50. Based on the looks of it, only the third years and Coach Ukai were there. His senpai waved to him, to which Kageyama responded with one of his own. Stopping next to them, he mumbles a greeting.

“Hi, Daich, Suga, Ashai”

They give a greeting back, ranging from equally tired tones from Daichi and Asahi, to an unusually chipper greeting from Suga. Kageyama must have hid his confusion pretty poorly, because Daichi gave a sigh before mumbling something about morning people. Regaining some energy, the captain smiles at Kageyama, a sort of nervous smile.

“ Oi, Kageyama. About last night,”

Kageyama froze, the cold dread freezing him. Oh god. This is about what he said, wasn’t it. Shit.

“I just wanted to thank you again, and If you ever need anything, we're here for you ok. I’m sorry about the whole situation, as your upperclassmen, we just want you to do well.”

Suga and Asahi chimed in agreement. 

“Yeah, we have eachothers backs, remember?”

And,

“Don’t forget you can talk to us.”

After the other two went to greet Nishinoya getting there, Daichi quietly tacks something on.

“I’m sorry you have to work to help support your family. I won’t tell Takeda, just…make sure you don’t get overwhelmed, ok? I appreciate the money, I really do, but don’t forget to look out for yourself.”

“Y-yes”

“Good.”

Kageyama is shocked as he watches Daichi go catch up with the other third years.He thought Daichi would have told Takeda, or all three questioning him, but they were nice and understanding. It filled him with an unfamiliar feeling of warmth. He was grateful, his upperclassmen were truly a blessing. For once, Kageyama didn’t fight his feeling of belonging. He tries to convey it when they return from greeting Nishinoya.

“Ah, thank you so much, really. Sorry about it really.”

“Don’t be sorry Kageyama, nobody here would judge you for that.”

Sugawara's gentle words comforted him, and he nodded, fighting a smile. 

The moment didn’t last long however as the rest of the team started to appear. By 6:05, everyone was there, the last being a gray van containing Tanaka and some blonde woman. Confused, Kageyama stares at her. This must have been the ride for him and the other three first years. Looking at the van, it had 5 seats, meaning three of them would be crammed in the back. Kageyama really wanted the passenger seat, he decided. Glancing at the other first years gathered next to him, the sentiment was shared. The blond woman looks at them and smiles, before turning to Tanaka.

“Hey Ryu, aren’t you gonna introduce me to your underclassmen huh? Where are your damn manners!”

Tanaka shoots her a playful glare, before turning to them.

“Alright! Guys, this is my Wonderful sister, Saeko! She will be your chauffeur this fine morning.”

Finishing with over dramatic jazz hands and a cheer from Nishinoya, she grins at them. 

“Yep, that's me! Now what are your names?”

“My name is Hinata! You're really pretty!”

Tsukishima scoffs at the boys compliment before introducing himself

“Tsukishima Kei. Nice to meet you.”

“Yamaguchi Tadashi, Great to meet you!”

“Uhh…Kageyama Tobio.”

Finishing the awkward uttering of his name with a bow, he looks up to see her grin. Twirling her keys in her hand, she gets a semi sinister look in her eye.

“Alright then boys, I can tell you all got your eyeballs on shotgun, but only one of you will be declared worthy.”

She cackles quietly as they all look at each other confusedly.

“Don’t worry, just a simple little test…Cuz whoever gets the seat will be my assistant! And I only want the best!”

Laughing, she goes to talk to Ukai before they leave, leaving the other boys to stand in awkward silence. Kageyama tries to ignore the way Tsukishima and Yamaguchi keep sliding him subtle glances, and tries even harder to ignore Hinata’s eyes boring into his soul. He knew all the staring was about last night, but he was getting an unusual lack of questions from the ginger. He was starting to see a weird pattern he didn’t like. He could only hope things would be alright, stewing in endless uncertainty for the near (and far) future. 

After the meatbun gathering, Hinata practically sprinted to talk to Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. His mind was swarmed with all sorts of possibilities, from “Does Kageyama get enough to eat?” to “What if his parents force him to do manual labor and keep him away from friends so he can make more money?”.  All of these were spewed to a pensive Yamaguchi and a subdued Tsukishima. His brain dump of information, however, ended when he suggested telling Takeda and Coach in between his frantic rambling. And by Tsukishima no less.

“Look. Whatever is going on with the king, he doesn’t want us to know. And probably for that exact reason. He knows you would go straight to Takeda, which wouldn’t really help him right now. As much as I hate to admit it, he is stubbornly secretive and hard to read when he needs to be. Hinata. Just…you might want to drop it. You won’t get anywhere with him and whatever fucked up past and weird trust issues he has.”

Upset, Hinata looks to Yamaguchi for another opinion, but all he gets is a sad shake of his head.

“It’s not worth it, i’m sorry-”

“NO. I’m not giving up on him. He never gave up on me when I didn’t know shit about how to play well, so I'm not giving up on him. Sure he's harsh, but I've improved so much because of it on court. I won’t tell Takeda, but I won’t stop. He needs help, or atleast a friend…just. Anyone! And I consider him my friend, even if his stubborn ass refuses to believe it. You might not help me, but I'll get to him one way or another!”

Huffing, he stares at the other boys for what felt like forever.

Finally Tsukishima’s sigh breaks the silence. 

“...Fine. But I wouldn’t ask him any more questions about family yet.”

Hinata smiles, nodding. Turning to Yamaguchi, the other boy just grins knowingly at them both. In turn, Tsukishima scowls.

“And don’t you even think I'm doing it to be his friend Yamaguchi.”

The other boy just laughs, causing Hinata to cackle as well. Tsukishima grumbles about murder. The night ends with a new fire lit under the ginger. He could befriend Kageyama Tobio.

The awkward silence was broken when Saeko finally came back, thank god. (even if she was a little intimidating, she reminded him of Miwa and others he's met, so she’s somewhat familiar at least. He would take almost anything over that awkward silence.) She grins at them once more.

“Alrighty! Now, for my quick passenger test, to begin! Question one, does anyone get carsick??”

Even if he didn’t say anything yet, the way they all stared at Hinata instantly told her everything she needed to know. Taking pity on him, she just sighed.

“Sorry kid, you're taking the back…”

Hinata seems to either be smart enough or tired enough not to raise a fuss, only a hint of a pout on his face about the whole ordeal. Kageyama stiffens. Only two more competition.

“Alright! Numero two, how well do you know your way around Sendai, city and all.”

She appeared to expect a verbal answer, and in his tired state with a strong determination to get that front seat, he spoke without thinking.

“Yeah. I live in Kokubuncho, so I actually know my way around the city well, plus I used to go to a middle school around Aoba Johsai.”

The realization of his mistake of casually announcing he lives in the Red Light district only hits seconds too late when Saeko raised an eyebrow and exclaimed; “The Red light district? Ok, I see you.” that the panic set in. He really hoped his resting bitch face covered any panic in his expression. Refusing to look at his teammates, (They were definitely staring. And judging.) he just nods. Tsukishima is the next to answer, saying that his brother lived in the city and he was good with directions, which probably wasn’t a lie. Yamaguchi appeared to give up and just tell the truth, because he answered a negative. Saeko nods and smiles, and now it's only him and Tsukishima. And let it be known that Kageyama would fight him for the front seat. Seriously. Time for the next question.

“Do either of you carry around a lighter?”

Kageyama froze a little, but went rummaging through his pocket, he put it here somewhere ... .Ahah!

But wait, he realized hand with the lighter half out of his pocket, what would they think if he just pulled a lighter out of his pocket….Saeko already had seen him try to dig it out, one eyebrow raised, then Tsukishima spoke;

“No. I don’t smoke, I wouldn’t just carry one.”

Shit. Fucking shit. He didn’t smoke either, well not really. ( There was this one time, during the summer after his last year of middle school after he failed the Shiratorizawa entrance exam, he was plagued with nightmares and guilt. He was in his bed, unable to sleep soundly because he ran out of sleeping pills. He was seriously considering quitting volleyball at that point, and remembering that smoking a cigarette can help you sleep. Pressing the nuclear option, he lit one up. For his first time smoking, it came easy. After words he felt…better, but also worse. He decided then and there that he would try playing before doing that again.) How the fuck would he explain this, considering he also smelled like a cigarette at the moment. Fuck fuck shit. He gives up. Life is meaningless. If he didn't have any prospects of friends before, he certainly won’t even have any prospects of teammates after this. Deciding to just pull it out, saying nothing. 

Thankfully Saeko spoke before the baffled Hinata and the weird stare of Tsukishima, with a hint of surprised Yamaguchi.

“Oh, that's surprising, based on what Ryu told me, you're like a volleyball freak or something, er, Not in a bad way at all, it’s just surprising you carry a lighter around, ya know?”

At Least it wasn’t a direct accusation, but if he stood there frozen it would be. He needed to clear this up best he could, and like now.

“Oh, no. I'm not really the one using it…but I just have to carry it with me for uhh…personal reasons?”

Well that sounded sketchy as hell, surely Tsukishima and Yamaguchi didn’t believe that for one second, and with how nosy Hinata’s been, he was probably skeptical too. Is this how he gets kicked out of the team and has to stop playing for good? He wishes he had just never spoken a word at all. Fuck why was he so stupid-

“Oh, that makes sense kid. I get it I really do, and it’s not my place to pry. You seem honest, and I'm not going to judge you or tell anyone you carry around a lighter. Shit, this question kinda sucked didn’t it…”

Kageyama decided right then and there that he didn’t care how fast or reckless she drove, hell she could stuff him in the trunk and he probably wouldn’t complain. This woman, Tanaka's older sister, had just saved his ass in so many ways. It took everything in his willpower to not sigh in relief before professing his gratitude for a solid five minutes. He gave her the most thankful nod he could possibly muster, before trying to regain himself. He was still here, he could still win, whatever that meant.

“Ok, i’m going to not count that question, because it wasn’t the best. Hmm…but he did have one….Nah, new question! What to ask, what to ask..”

As the boys sat there in suspense while she tried to figure it out, the nerves were dancing below Kageyama's skin. The awkward silence starts to settle again, only more awkward this time. Thankfully, Saeko broke it quickly

“Alrighty then, any experience with fixing cars, or just basic maintenance and repairs??”

That question was not comforting in the slightest, but Kageyama didn’t mind. You never know what might happen, after all. Irutora had him help jump a car battery a couple times, as well as try to hook up a police radio to a car. (he was just an extra pair of hands, but it had still been somewhat memorable.) He also remembers one saturday night when his dad had him for a “sleepover” when he was little, the man's engine had stalled out in the mcdonalds parking lot. Now that was…an experience. He remembers eating his happy meal on the pavement while his father called a mechanic and swore like a sailor over the whole thing. That was the last time he really drove with his father, because the time after that he got pulled over for driving 90 in a 40. Now that was an interesting car ride. Safe to say, he knew a thing or two by now. Before he got to answer her question, Tsukishima beat him to it. 

“Why would we need to know that?”

Hah. He definitely just put his foot in his mouth, based on the look Saeko shot him, and he knew it too. Score.

“Hey! If I say it’s important than it is, ok? You never know what could happen.”

Reveling in Tsukishima's mistake, he almost missed her questioning gaze aimed at him.

“Oh, like jumping a battery or something, because I know how to do basic stuff like that-”

“ALRIGHTYYY!, We have our Winner!!!!!”

Tsukishima looked miffed, but he decided to just shut up, and Kageyama almost smiled. He had won. They all file into the van, once they get in there, she grins.

“Ok, It's on! Aoba whatever school, Here we come!!!”

The moment she revved up the engine and swerved out of the parking lot, he knew why Tanaka had warned them. She drove a lot like Irutora, but slightly less street racer like. (Meanwhile Irutora drove like he was in the fast and furious Tokyo drift. He was probably inspiration for the movie too.) It wasn’t that bad though, he had a seatbelt in Saeko's car. However, he seemed to be the only one alright with the situation, as the three in the back, Hinata specifically, seemed to be having a hard time. At one point, between poorly muffled screams and scared looks, Hinata must've seen him just chilling there calmly ( At Least there were seatbelts and he got the front ) And for a second, shock must’ve overwhelmed his fear, because the boy borderline screamed

“WHAT THE HELL KAGEYAMA. HOW ARE YOU SO CALM- OH SHIT”

Kageyama then had to suppress a laugh as Saeko took a nasty turn and launched the short boy into Tsukishima, who looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. His ego must’ve spoke for him because he said

“Well, because I'm not a shrimp like you, and the person driving me is usually worse.” He smirked, the back of his mind hoping the ginger wouldn’t read too much into that. Fortunately the boy just yelled something that sounded like “i'm not a shrimp” and “how are you even alive” and dropped it.

All in all, the ride, while chaotic, was ok. He even got to sleep for a bit. In fact, he only woke up because he got hungry. He was chilling in the front, away from the three in the back looking like some sardines in a can about to be eaten by an old lady. Saeko wasn’t all that demanding, and his duties of helping the driver weren’t that bad. Rolling up to the parking lot of Aoba Johsai, his nerves almost got unbearable, feeling as sick as both Hinata who was about to throw up, and Yamaguchi who was about to get thrown up on. Thanking her for the ride, he steps out of the car, trying to convince himself he was ready for what might await.

In the Aoba Johsai gym, Oikawa Tooru mindlessly practiced sets, messing quite a few up. His mind had been elsewhere since last night, and he had stayed up later than he should have because of it. It was one thing trying to have a conversation with the emotionally constipated brick wall that was Kageyama, but seeing him play was another. As much as Oikawa hated to admit it, the boy was good, really good. And as much as Oikawa would never admit it, he kept an eye on the boy. The last time he saw Kageyama play was that one match in middle school, and he was both excited and nervous to see how he played now, and if he had truly changed. And he wasn’t the only one.

Kindaichi sat on the bench, a look of fierce determination in his eye. Today was the day he would confirm whether or not Kageyama changed, and well…maybe get a glimpse of what happened. He needed any semblance of closure, and maybe figure out more of who Kageyama Tobio really was, on and off the court. But he knew outright confronting the other was a bad way to do so. It wouldn’t get him anywhere, and truthfully, he wasn’t ready for that. His plan revolved around one person. Someone who knew the king well enough, and could point him in the right direction. The sociable ginger, Hinata Shoyo. He hears the Karasuno team arrive, and squares his shoulders. 

It’s time.

Sitting in the parking lot as the two coaches exchanged pleasantries, Kageyama watched a scene trying not to unfold. Daichi and Ashai both looked equally tired and fed up. One in an anxious way, and the other looking like he was this close to screaming at the top of his lungs. Suga was surprisingly chipper, but also looked slightly drained from the bus ride. The three calm second years just looked tired (and definitely fed up). The source of their frustration was probably a combination of Tanaka and Nishinoya, One who was yelling and jumping around while staring down the Seijou gym. Tanaka's attention was split between apologizing to the first years, particularly the three in the back, and also staring down the building and yelling with Nishinoya. If Kageyama had to guess Hinata would join them once he finished throwing up in a trashcan. Gross. It appeared Tsukishima who seemed to be begrudgingly comforting Yamaguchi as well as cursing under his breath shared that sentiment. Yamaguchi, who only narrowly avoided being puked on, looked like he had seen the horrors. Kageyama was really glad he got the front. He was just…quietly there. Which in this case was good, but the nervousness he carried that infiltrated his thoughts began to rear it ugly head. 

Just quietly there…You don't truly belong…Always outside looking in…Nobody would notice if you disappeared right now…You're Not that important…

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. He was here to play volleyball, nothing more, nothing less. He was somebody on the volleyball court, and he had to play. He couldn’t just disappear, not while he could still be on the court. 

No matter the costs

Chapter Text

This whole training camp was shaping up to be much more awkward than anything. After some exchanged taunts and jokes, the coaches had them run practice drills for a bit. Not that fun, but a good way to clear his mind and focus on volleyball. Unfortunately for him, nothing was that simple. Hinata was staring at him, like usual, Kunimi was staring at him, which wasn’t unexpected, but still quite unnerving. The worst part however, was Kindaichi. The staring at him wasn’t the problem, that was to be expected, but the other boys staring at Hinata. That was concerning. Hinata was probably the person on the team who knew the most about him, both on and off court. And he really didn’t want to deal with whatever repercussions it could bring him if they got to talking. Hoping for the best, he just tries to run as fast as he can away like usual. Of course in this case, it meant taking his laps around the gym at what was probably a concerning and too-fast pace. Given his low sleep and energy, he almost passed out, which got him many stares. Shit. He didn’t like when people looked at him with worry, especially those who usually look at him with disdain. He can’t stand it. Sure, he might not have the best life, but everything that has happened to him wasn’t just for nothing. If he had to hurt like hell, he would make sure he gained from it. Whether that be in volleyball or life skills. He knew there were things he could never have, things most take for granted, but he wouldn’t just take all that damage and let it define him, erase him, be the only reason people cared. No. His suffering was a part of him, an unfortunate but unavoidable blight, ever since he was born, but he knew he had to be better from it. Not like his father, who let it ruin him, or his mother, who just threw it all on an easy scapegoat and left it behind. He would fight through it, turn it into something, gain any sense of control. So he would again pick himself up, fight through it, and let it happen. He would suffer, he would make himself suffer, it was unavoidable. Glaring at the ground, he carries on, and soon enough, the stares become more tolerable.

We did it for futures that never came

And for pasts that we're never gonna change

After finishing drills, everyone banded together, where the coaches would announce the biggest part of training today. And lo and behold, they decided to group everyone from each school by position, before sending them off to practice once more. Now in larger groups like the middle blockers, they paired up by years, but the smaller groups were just practicing as one. Kageyama's group happened to be only three official setters. Him, Sugawara and Oikawa. Which was interesting. Normally his dread of spending too much time with Oikawa would win over his admiration and passion for learning volleyball related things, but with Sugawara there, he felt…safer. The elder was calming, and would probably stick up for Kageyama, or at the very least not put up with too much bs. (He did enough of that with Tanaka and Noya) Unsurprisingly, Oikawa started first, apparently having enough decency to mask his distaste for working with Kageyama, putting on one of those plastic smiles Kageyama had come to know well. Oikawa made the suggestion that they just work on different kinds of sets and give each other pointers, which was a good suggestion, so he and Sugawara agreed. And honestly, all things considered, it was fun. Despite Oikawa’s taunts and sharp stares when he thought Kageyama wasn’t looking (the other boy kinda underestimated Kageyama's peripheral vision), it was fun. He even learned something from Oikawa, which wasn’t new, but the other, albeit begrudgingly, actually gave him some advice. It was an unfamiliar feeling to Kageyama. He didn’t feel that same blind, foolish admiration that he did back then (that was buried long ago yet another part of him that died with Kazuyo ), but he felt at ease. It almost felt like a somewhat hopeful new beginning, even if it really wasn’t. However, a small part of him felt vaguely hollow. As he watched the other two and they watched him, the gap in teamwork felt greater than ever. The one thing he never got right. He knew he got a head start on volleyball, but even that came at some costs. Up until middle school, he always played with people far below his skill level, which screwed him two ways. One, it had been hard for most of his teammates to keep up with him, which made for some interesting moments and baffled accusations he never quite understood, and two. Two was something he had become used to in life from a young age, alienation. It followed him no matter where he went, from late nights where he would ask why his mother hated him, or why his father was always in and out of his life. Of course it extended to volleyball as well. His Grandfather used to say it was because he was special, and people just didn’t understand, and that it was ok. But after his death, Kageyama quickly realized it was just something wrong with him. His only saving grace was the fact that he had become so used to it, it had just become a part of him now. But he wasn’t a total idiot. No matter how much he knew he didn’t belong, he knew that in order to stay on the court the longest, he would have to make an effort to communicate with his teammates on the court. So he listened, taking in every last bit of advice he could, as he knew this was a rare chance. And so everything was mostly fine. The only real hiccup was when Kageyama refused to take a quick break with the other boys, which prompted Oikawa to say,

“Damn Tobio-chan, what are you, addicted to volleyball?”

Now this was something Kageyama didn’t like to think about. Mainly because Oikawa was right in a sense. Due to his father snorting coke in front of him and taking him to parties in a questionable manner, as well as his mothers… Habits during her pregnancy with him, he certainly had a relationship with addiction. He had seen what it could do, from the obvious effects to the less. Kageyama was familiar with both. Between his father's death (overdose), and his own experience. Now, Kageyama didn't do drugs, not really. He had no issue with them, but he didn't want to do them. They were a familiar acquaintance, a friend of a friend. So yes, even if he didn't directly do them, they certainly had many effects on his life, but some effects weren't as obvious. An above average alcohol tolerance, ability to tell what drugs what, just by scent, and the hollowness that runs through his bones. The nagging feeling of emptiness since birth. That feeling of being not-quite alive. One might go as far as to call it withdrawal. How would he deal with that? Well, he did. Some of the time. He didn’t do any drugs to fill the void, but what would fill it otherwise? Was he simply left to an eternity of a drained heart? No. Because something did fill the void. Volleyball. His addiction manifested itself through volleyball. 

It was truly a blessing and a curse. On one hand, he was a genius setter, on the other, well the king of the court. So Oikawa's simple taunt, like many a simple taunt, struck deeper than intended. Another plunge into waters best left uncharted. All he could do was stay quiet, like always. 

“It’s probably just best for people not to know you. It must be so difficult to find out the nice person underneath a crude exterior wasn’t real, but just a crude exterior as an empty shell.”

“To stay on the court the longest”... “you cannot step off it”

“You know how you exist.”

“There's no I in team, so why should I try and fit in it?”  

But then again, why was he making a fuss in his head about it. It's not like Oikawa would care enough about him to find his behavior concerning. He was here to play volleyball, just like Kageyama, and was probably only staring intently at him because he was watching him play and analyzing the volleyball skill, not the person. It was stupid, a fear of people getting too close.  It was hard enough to learn trust in volleyball, and he was certainly not going to trust off court. That would be stupid, even for him. His brain was just clouded by the fear of someone like Oikawa getting to know him. He was content to watch him from afar, to stray in and out of orbit. It was best not to get too close, and they both knew that. They were rivals, rivals with a past that could've been. But it never would’ve, not when Oikawa despised him, not when Kageyama was a naive kid without the perception of what a genius is. So once again, he brushes off another odd moment with Oikawa. He is here to play volleyball, nothing else. He exists for volleyball, nothing else. And after the time speeds back up and his mind sets him free, everything falls into place again. Another set, some more words, and the world is okay again.

Of course, the world's kindness didn’t last. Lunch rolled around, which usually would be great, but they of course made the seating chart by year. Which meant that he would have to eat lunch with all the other first years. Hell no. He had to find a way out of it, even if it meant doing something stupid. And so, he was going to do something stupid. The seating was outdoors, meaning there was a lot of open space. Which could be bad, as it would be obvious that he was eating alone, and why. So, he needed a hiding spot. Once the coaches were out of sight, not wanting to sit with a bunch of high schoolers, Kageyama looked for a spot where nobody would see him or find him. Turning to the area behind the building where the dumpster is, he looked around, disappointed to find nothing suitable but the dumpster for cover. Shit. He really didn’t want to eat around or on top of a dumpster, he has had to before and it sucked. Grimacing, he looked around some more, there had to be something- Aha. He looked up, and then hit the jackpot. A small ledge, something he could get to with a jump from on top of the dumpster. It was relatively out of sight too, so nobody would likely see him. Looking around just in case, he climbs up on the dumpster as quietly as possible. Steeling himself, he shakes off any nerves or second thoughts. He has climbed roofs before, he could make a jump quietly for fucks sake. Gritting his teeth he made the jump. He unfortunately made noise, but not loud enough to call any attention, thank god. His leg had gotten a bit torn up on the metal, something he really didn’t want to deal with the consequences of. But that was a problem for later, for now he could eat his lunch in peace. He felt at home with the place he ate, mind wandering to childhood memories of eating on top of a car, or the one time his father brought him to a house party and someone sat him on top of a fridge with a bottle of sake. The memory makes him suppress a dry laugh, now that was certainly something. 

He sat like that in peace for 10 minutes, which is 10 more minutes of peace than usual, and he was hoping it would last, but he should’ve seen this one coming. Luckily he was good at being quiet and hiding, a skill that was built up by years of hiding from his fathers drunk “friends”, and was pressed quietly in the darkest corner of the ledge. (It was a bit harder than memory though, he had grown quite a bit.) Why was he in another unfortunate predicament? Well, because voices were walking towards, and likely close to him. Three specific voices. Three he didn’t really want to hear at the moment. Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Kunimi. Or, at this moment, the triple threat. As they walked past the alley, they stopped. Shit. Thankfully, his terror quickly subsided, as they started moving leisurely again. In a brief moment of stupidity, he took a risk and looked around the corner. And made eye contact. Fuck. He turned back as swiftly as possible without making noise, and hopefully the other person didn’t register it. It seems they didn’t, and they follow along behind. Kageyama would stay curled up in the corner for the rest of lunch. 

Shit.

Kunimi walked next to Tsukishima, mostly silent, Yamaguchi just behind. This was frankly, stupid. Kindaichi was too curious for his own good. Kunimi was content with forgetting the king. He would always have the same image of him, no matter how he changed, and that was fine. The past didn’t change. Sure, the King's odd behavior was intriguing, but he had always been weird, at least how Kunimi remembered. The thing he minded though, was how his friend was reacting. The king's behavior back in middle school was inexcusable, and it led both him and Kindaichi to the conclusion he was just a tyrant.  Now Kunimi came to the conclusion that the king was a king easily, but Kindaichi desperately searched for a reason. He gave the king a chance, and all that led to was the other boy getting hurt, sad and angry. And that was Kunimis biggest issue with the king, he had hurt his best friend. But now, said idiot best friend was going back to looking for reasons, and don’t get him wrong, Kunimi understands why, but…He didn’t want to give the king a second chance. Even more so, he didn’t want Kindaichi to get hurt again. But, he still wanted to (begrudgingly), have Kindaichi's back. And so he agreed to help get Hinata and Kindaichi alone at lunch so they could talk. He just hoped the other boy wouldn’t do something stupid.

Kindaichi tapped his foot nervously, staring at the ginger stuffing his face at an alarming speed, as he was waiting for a good time to ask the other boy about the king. Lunch period was almost over, so he needed to ask quickly. After he finished, he whipped his head to Kindaichi, great, it’s time.

“Uhm can I ask you about the king”

“HEY, can you tell me some stuff about Kageyama???”

The awkward staring that ensues between the two was almost funny. Kindaichi just looked at him with confusion, while Hinata blinked owlishly at him. Kindaichi spoke first.

“Oh…I just wanted to ask about…uh…how is he?...you know in general?”

Hinata seemed surprised by this question, but decided to answer anyway.

“Well, he’s grumpy as hell all the time, and he’s a meanie…But he also helps me a ton with volleyball, so it evens out for the most part. I’m not sure how he’s doing though…I want to say good, but I don’t think he’s doing well outside of volleyball…I wish I could tell you more, but he’s being a closed off jerk, even though I just want to be his friend.”

Kindaichi was suddenly hit with an uncomfortable wave of emotions, emotions buried long ago, rising to the surface.

“You…want to be his friend? Even though he's a jerk…?”

“Well yeah…I know about the whole king of the court thing, but still. The “King of the court” has helped me get better more than anyone else would. He was the person who gave me a chance, who stayed long after practice was over to help me, and always told me how I could be better, even if it was harsh. And…maybe he’s not really a jerk. Maybe he’s just…angry. That was what I was going to ask you. What was Kageyama like before the king of the court? Was there a before?”

Kindaichi had to swallow the lump in his throat. He now understood why the King could change so easily. Maybe all he needed was someone who understood. Sure, what was Kindaichi supposed to think of the sudden change in behavior- The color drained from his face. Sudden.

“Well…yeah…there was a “before Kageyama” ( the name felt unnatural on his tongue, how long had it been since he had called him by his name? ) He was way better at volleyball than all the first and second years, but he wasn’t always mean- er…angry. He was always standoffish, and he only ever spoke about volleyball. No family, no friends, nothing else. He was always staying way behind to practice too. He practiced a lot, even more when he changed. And the change was…sudden. One day the light in his eyes was just…gone. The king just became worse and worse from there…and…I don’t think I ever asked if he was ok. I-I I just…”

“Oh…something bad must’ve happened. It’s not really your fault though, if something bad happened the coaches should’ve told you, instead of letting him suffer, which made you suffer. Plus…even though rejecting his toss was a shitty thing to do, at least it got him to stop some. Unfortunately, he's still suffering, and I want to get to the bottom of it.”

“Me too”

The two boys sat in silence for a bit, until Hinata's face lit up with an idea. 

“ I know! You’d be a huge help in figuring out Kageyama! Here, you have my number right? Let's start a group chat with me, you, Tsuki, Yamaguchi, and sleepy guy!”

Kindaichi laughed.

“Sleepy guy? You mean Kunimi?, well…yeah. I’m in. Not sure if the others will be but we can cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Both boys grin, running to catch up with their friends since lunch was over. It was time to play again.

The first years made their way back to the gym, meeting up with everyone else. Kageyama was already there, suspicious bruises on his knees, looking as deadpan pissed as ever. If anyone asked about the new bruises on his knees, he brushed them off. The coaches wrangle them all together in the center of the gym, splitting them up in groups based on what needs to be practiced with each individual. Oikawa watched as the people in the middle dwindled. Oh well, he didn’t have too much to work on. His setting skills were very good, so the most he could do is give advice, as he wouldn’t really improve from these drills, which were designed to have people's weaknesses practiced with others, highlighting the most improvement. Like Kindaichi for example, who would be practicing receives against someone practicing serves. By the time everyone else was grouped up and starting to work, it was just him and Kageyama. Oikawa suppresses a sigh. It would be much harder to deal with Tobio-chan without anybody serving as a mediator, and based on the look on little Tobio-chan's face, he knew this as well. Surprising, it appears the boy has gotten smarter, even if it wouldn’t help him much. He smirks internally. Tobio-chan truly was the reason there are two separate words for prodigy and genius. The coaches, unfortunately, confirm Oikawa's headache. Since he and Tobio-chan had the least to work on, they would work together. 

Putting on a fake smile, he turns to a scowling Kageyama;

“Well then Tobio-chan! Let's go practice over there, away from the others.”

Kageyama just stares blankly, nodding. Damn Tobio-chan, would it kill him to have any reaction? At this rate, his face will freeze in an ugly scowl. Oikawa hopes it does. Standing alone, the two boys glance at each other. Oikawa wants to scream. Why the hell is Tobio-chan so awkward…Ugh let's just get this over with. It's already bad enough that they consider Tobio-chan and him at the same level. It was as insulting as it was terrifying, that someone two years his junior was almost as good as he was, only held back by poor teamwork. It drove Oikawa mad, all he worked so hard for was only slightly better than some damn brats natural talent, by a margin of better teamwork. He hated it. He hated even more that he couldn’t even  put his hatred aside and be a decent senpai to an idiot prodigy. But he wouldn’t stoop to Kageyama's level. Nope. He was more mature, he was better, and he would prove it. But not without antagonizing some information out of the little brat. He still has his pride after all. So he starts to practice, as Tobio chan was a lot less stiff while playing. He tries not to roll his eyes, why the hell does this idiot still look like he wants his advice. He barely needed it anyways. 

A part of him pangs with guilt. He needs some certain advice. Some Oikawa refused to give when it mattered most.

After they practiced random shit for a bit, Oikawa saw his time to strike. 

“So Tobio-chan, why do you play volleyball hmm?”

The other boy looked less stiff than Oikawa thought, and certainly more confused. After more painfully awkward silence, Kageyama finally answers.

“...Just because I guess.”

“Just because?”

The other boy frowns, a defensive look in his eyes.

“Well why do you?”

Oikawa was taken a little off guard, damned Tobio-chan.

“ …fine then. I guess I would have thought of a better reason from a prodigy.”

Kageyama scowls at this, apparently offended at being called a prodigy. Oikawa fails to suppress an eyeroll this time.

“I’m not a prodigy. I practice very hard. I always have. I didn’t just learn volleyball overnight.”

“Oh really? Could’ve fooled me.”

Kageyama shrugs;

“Well I've been playing and practicing and learning for as long as I can remember.  It’s always just been what I do, it’s a part of me. I don’t know any other way. I’ve just always been a volleyball player. So no, I'm not a prodigy. I just happen to have the right circumstances to build the foundation to be better, and I practice as much as I can to do so. That’s all.”

Oikawa says nothing. He hated that it made sense, between the abysmal social skills and the ridiculous amount of time he practiced. Kageyama did work very hard. Oikawa had so much he wanted to say. It seemed like every time he speaks to the boy, he gets one answer and even more questions, like someone you thought was just an apple with one thin layer, has now turned into an onion with endless ones to peel back. And just like an onion, the more you peel, the more it stings. What happened? What keeps happening? Each time he thinks he has the other boy figured out, he goes and changes again. Just like in volleyball, each time he thinks the boy has peaked, he just keeps growing and evolving even more. It was frightening.It was unfair . Oikawa grits his teeth. No, he could evolve too. He could finally figure Kageyama Tobio out And one day, they would be on equal standing, and he would come out victorious.But for now, he would practice as hard as he can. And just maybe, he hopes, no, he knows, that Tobio-chan would too. 

He and Kageyama practiced until they had to leave, mostly silent. And as he and Kageyama parted ways, Oikawa's eyes lingered on the boy. And just maybe, for the first time ever, Oikawa feels the envy that gips him loose, and replaces itself with something new, and all Oikawa can do is stare. And for the first time, he thinks that maybe Kageyama Tobio isn’t as bad as he thought.

And after Tobio-chan and the rest of them leave, when Iwaizumi comes up to him, asking what he was thinking, both in concern and a threat,he just smiles.

“Just my worthless pride. That's all.”

Chapter Text

Kageyama had left Aoba Johsai in a confused daze.

Why would Oikawa ask me that?

What does he want?

Did I say the right thing?

Oh god…I fucked up 

Mindlessly, he climbs in the van, too caught up in his head to smirk when Tsukishima shoots him a glare from the backseat. At least he is not back there, given the way Yamaguchi is sliding away from Hinata. All he could think of was how awkward he sounded, how dumb he seemed. It was like everything he said was wrong. It was just so hard to explain to someone all volleyball meant to him, especially when said person was Oikawa.

Kageyama just sat in silence, frowning at the floor and paying no mind to the reckless driving and the panic in the backseat. The ride continued like that, a bubble of melancholy wrapped around him. Once again, the boy reminisces on the day and on his life. Of all the memories, volleyball is the best thing in his life. Once again, he wishes he was content with just that. He wishes he had some other form of happiness, something to cherish when even volleyball started turning sour. 

Like in middle school, when volleyball no longer became associated with happiness. Had nothing left but anger and sadness when life lost its color and took away his only friend, his only family. When his temper lashes out, it tries to protect him in some twisted way. Despite it all, it still leads him to hope, only for him to let himself down again. All he can do is wish and wish because he cannot fix his problems if he is the problem. He needs help and knows it, but any hand extended to him he does not trust enough to let it pick him up. His temper and past would forever serve as barriers to a happy future, just for some fucked up sense of safety. And nobody, nobody would ever see him for who he truly is. Volleyball had become part of his being, so not even volleyball was safe from his hatred. Kageyama does hate himself, every part of him included. Now, he lets it eat away at him because he could never ruin volleyball for someone else again. Just because he suffered, he understood how someone could love volleyball because he did once. Back when he still loved himself. Back when his world was bright and had people to share happiness with. He saw a glimmer of that trust, the importance of relying on others, now that he was not blinded by his anger and understood who he truly hated. Who he truly cannot stand. He knows he cannot be the person that made volleyball great, not when he was so awful. He would never be his idol, could never get the little kid he once was back. The most he could do was be reliable, but not someone you got close to or trusted. He would not do that to anybody, to let them in, to establish a connection that ran deep through their souls, because he knew it would never last, and the hatred that ate him alive would start eating away at them as well. So when he sees the light in a person's eyes, the sun that used to shine so brightly on him, the burning passion for the sport that he understood so well, the fleeting happiness Kageyama greedily craved to latch on to, a fading memory of big, strong hands and innocent blue eyes, he buries himself more profoundly than ever, fading into the shadows, if only to let the sun shine brighter. As long as he could stay on the court, forever chasing that feeling he missed to his core, it would be enough. But he could never make that connection, bask in the light, because he was the shadows, was Kageyama Tobio, King of the court, and is awful, that is the truth. 

What he perceived as relative silence came to a stop with the van. Looking around, he realized they were not at Karasuno but at the closest McDonald's, the one far from his bus stop. He turns to stare at his fellow first years, thanking her for the ride. His confusion was palpable, but he just accepted he must not have been paying attention and subconsciously agreed to stop there when it was mentioned. Staring as she drove off, he looked at the other three, hoping one of them would get the hint and explain because, between his current state of confusion and self-hatred, he really did not want to just flat-out ask, even if being overly blunt was a strong suit of his. Thankfully, Yamaguchi decided to take pity on him and explained that they were all stopping at McDonald's for dinner, and when he did not respond when they asked, they just went ahead with it. At least he seemed apologetic, so Kageyama nodded, even though his head was elsewhere. Hopefully, Kageyama was not looking as out of it as he felt. He knew he had to get out of this. It felt way too friendly. He could not do it. Thankfully, he could tell the truth to get out of this one. 

“Uh…I might head home, I do not have any cash on me, so there is no reason for me to stick around.”

Unfortunately, this did not work. Hinata's face lit up, and before he knew it, all three of them were offering to chip in a little to cover him. He tried to refuse but only felt like an asshole in doing so. Plus…it felt…nice. It would not be too bad, they were looking out for their teammate or felt bad for him. Either way, once would be fine, right? He could cave into perceived friendliness just this once, so he thanks them and agrees. Hinata started jumping excitedly, clamoring on and on about the Sprite and such, and if Kageyama remembered correctly from his last time at McDonald's (That time with his father), The Sprite was pretty good. But…there was a vending machine outside, with many drinks. He points it out, saying it would be cheaper. Tsukishima raises an eyebrow.

“How would they be cheaper, King? You can read, right…?”

Kageyama frowns; he thinks this is common knowledge.

"I can show you, just give me 350 yen."

Tsukishima gave him a disapproving look, but even he appeared curious by now. With a resigned sigh, the blonde handed over the money as requested.

“You are gonna owe me if you are wrong, you know that right?” 

Kageyama nods, failing to fight a competitive smirk. He may not be the brightest bulb in the bunch, but he could definitely one-up him here, and he certainly would not turn down an opportunity to one-up Tsukishima. The art of paying for one thing at vending machines and getting many was a precise one, all about timing. And he was an expert. Sure, there was no need for him to do this, but he didn’t want people doing him a favor to waste their money. Plus…something inside him was oddly giddy at the prospect. 

Feeding the Yen into the machine, he presses 4 buttons in unison, and before the machine has time to process, he kicks it. Hard enough for the machine to wobble, but not hard enough to cause any real damage. And sure enough, like the many times before, 4 drinks clattered out. Perfect. After crouching to pick them up, he turns to see three faces in various levels of shock, awe, and concern. Kageyama frowns; had they really never seen that before? He thought most people knew how to do that.

“WHAAAA Kageyama!!!! How’d you do that?”

“It's easy dumbass, I thought everyone knew how to do that.”

Apparently, the other three didn’t share the sentiment. As he handed each of them a drink, Yamaguchi chimed in as well;

“Who even figured that out, I mean…who even taught you that?”

“My father when I was younger…why?”

Kageyama was confused as to why they were so shocked about this. Tsukishima, who just seemed more upset about being wrong than anything, fires back;

“Well, probably because that's, I don’t know, mildly illegal? Your father must not be very responsible.”

Kageyama frowned. 

“Illegal? How is it illegal if it’s so obvious and easy?”

Huh. Kageyama had never seen that expression cross three people's faces at once before, specifically not Tsukishima, who even took off his glasses to make sure he heard that right, which, in Kageyama's opinion, was pretty funny. Putting his glasses back on, the blonde mutters;

“Oh my god…I…holy shit. What even-”

“Oh and yeah, my father was very irresponsible, and probably still is”

Well, somewhere in hell, smoking dope with the devil himself, but that's irrelevant.

Tsukishima seemed to give up, realizing he wasn't getting anywhere, and Yamaguchi and Hinata just laughed nervously. Seriously, what was the problem? They seemed thankful for the drinks though, so they just stepped into the Mcdonalds, and Kageyama had started to forget what he was so worried about in the first place. Oikawa, whatever. 

They had all ordered food, which thankfully was cheap, as Kageyama wouldn’t have let them pay otherwise, sitting down, he slowly eats his chicken nuggets, a lot less hungry than the others. Odd. Yamaguchi gave him a stare, but Hinata beat him to the punch.

“Aren't you hungry Kageyama? I thought you skipped lunch earlier?" 

Well, Kageyama didn't feel the need to lie about that, part of it at least. This whole thing was much easier than he thought, all he had to do was shrug and respond that he ate and that he just wanted to eat alone (he swore to himself he did. He had to eat alone, that is.), and then… It was over and Hinata went to eat and ramble about something else. It was… Simple, talking and eating with them was just… Easy. Granted, he didn't talk much, but that was because volleyball didn't come up as frequently as usual. Tsukishima was explaining some gangster movie he had watched, and how he thought the way they did knife fights seemed pretty accurate. And for some reason, Kageyama actually semi-participated in the conversation. Even if it was just to tell Tsukishima that you can’t just take a knife out of your stomach and walk off, you would have to keep the knife in to avoid bleeding out, and that you shouldn’t leave the knife at the scene. Of course, Tsukishima gave him a look, to which Kageyama remembered Hinata calling him a killjoy, so he had to begrudgingly admit it wasn’t very far off. This creates a whole nother conversation about knife fights, gangsters, and why the hell Kageyama knew this. He was going to panic before Hinata reminded them of where Kageyama lived. And once again, the world keeps spinning. Fries are thrown, names are called, and then laughter floats through the air. The colors of the world get a bit brighter in the dimming backdrop of the evening. The feeling of belonging and having fun fills Kageyama's being, and for the first time in a long time, he smiles. Genuinely. 

The hour spent in the McDonalds felt like it lasted forever and less than a minute at the same time. The whole thing almost felt surreal, like a dream from a distant past, and Kageyama found himself wishing he had a pause button for life, some way to capture his fleeting moments of feeling. He walked to the bus stop, Hinata the only one left beside him after Tsukishima and Yamaguchi parted with them to go their own street home. Hinata and he fell in an easy step, a comfortable bubble of Hinata's chatter and Kageyama's occasional response, a sense of balance between them. They stop briefly, something unspoken hanging in the air. Hinata looked oddly contemplative, with a look of seriousness so uncommon on his face that all Kageyama could do was stare. He met Kageyama's stare with a conviction and intensity that made the city breezes and night city lights seem dim. 

“ You know Kageyama…I don't think I've ever seen you smile before today.”

Was that all? Kageyama felt confused, he had smiled before, right? Well, one of his creepy fake smiles, was the only one he could muster these days. He tried to say something, but it was as if the words wouldn’t come out. The intensity of Hinata's stare seemed to melt away, leaving one of his blinding smiles.

“Well… I've never seen you smile for real, I guess. Like a genuine smile. I guess I'm just glad…you know what, forget it…”

Hinata trails off, and Kageyama regrets ever smiling. He's been told countless times that his smile is creepy, or fake looking, or anything else. He’s expecting a taunt, Hinata asking him to never smile again, but the boy just flashes one of his, blinding, happy, and painfully real smiles. Like he has something to smile about, something that Kageyama would kill for, just so his heart doesn’t have needles in it for a moment. He wants to have that joy, that feeling of flying, and to express it. He wants to be able to smile at Hinata and do more than nod along when he actually seems to look forward to seeing Kageyama. Not just to play with him, but to be in his presence. It was a foreign feeling, lingering after Hinata left into the darkening night towards home, where someone was waiting for him. Lingering in the way Hinata told him to smile more, whenever he wanted to even. Lingering in the way Kageyama’s mind focuses on the way his heart calls Hinata a friend. The way he feels overwhelmed and empty at the same time and all he can do is force himself to not break down in the just-before-night dark five minutes away from his bus stop. But it’s fine. Kageyama doesn’t break down. Kageyama can’t afford to break down. Not here and now, not there, not ever. But he just can't get rid of the feeling, the weight dragging him down, down, down. Sinking away from that momentary burst of life, and further into his dim reality. Down, with the feeling of wanting to belong only to push others away out of fear of actually doing so. Down, with the knowledge that there's nobody to come back to, just an empty house empty days, and empty practices where he just can’t seem to fit in with the only hope of stability he has left. Because there's nothing to return to, there's nobody there, nobody trying to keep up, nobody trying to reach, just nothing, nothing, nothing.

Next thing he knows he's running through the dark. Away from friends, away from grief and smiles. He runs with the cold night wind and sleeping neighborhoods, places left untouched by neon lights or lost boys spreading all their problems wherever they go. He trips over curbs, weighed down by his expectations and the ding of messages in group chats he couldn’t bring himself to answer. He staggers through alleys with his own blood running down his knees, running away like him. Because all he can do now is run, run, run. Run to the court, run to someone better, run till his world stops turning and he meets the end. Run because someday, someone, something, will look back at him, and he can finally find what he chases. Running to, not away. Because he can’t stop, he can’t fall, and he can’t bring anyone else down with him, even if it means someone lifts him up. Because he is Kageyama Tobio, and nobody is there.

He finds himself in front of a closed hair salon, looking at the rather pitiful expression reflected in the glass. Hair growing out and dark eyebags, are a reminder that how you look reflects how you feel, and taking care of yourself is important. Looking at his bangs starting to get in his eyes, he wonders if someone will ever take care of him. The salon is closed, and unfamiliar. He hasn’t been to a salon in a long time. He hasn’t been a living doll for hair and makeup with chubby cheeks and smudged lipstick in years. He hasn’t known her in what feels like a lifetime. He finds himself in front of a hair salon, and he finds her on the other side of the glass. But the door is locked, and he keeps on walking. 

“I don’t want to play volleyball anymore,...sorry”

He passes parks, dark and empty, rusty swings that feel a lot smaller than in memory. He looks for color, looks for light, but it's nighttime. Summer has long been over, watermelon popsicles and sticky spikes are glimpses of another life. Fifteen, not five. No adult, a shell of a boy, an athlete with a dying childhood. The only light he has hurts now. A flame in his hand, flickering out as the breeze passes him by. He walks along with it. 

“Leave it all behind, because now it's the only way to move forward”

He walks without a destination as the evening turns to night. He sees apartment buildings and clubs in full swing, but he can’t find anything he can go back to, even if it's a place he's been. He only sighs when drunks spill liquor on him and try to give him life advice. Just because all is normal doesn’t mean all is well. He feels the piercing eyes in the back alleys and hears chatter and crying. Abandoned pregnancy tests and wasted women line the edges of the street, with sharp nails and cold, cold eyes. They don’t even look at him. He’s not worth a glance. He would prefer the company of a random prostitute, at least they were nice, and understood that everyone has worth in some way. Even the worthless. But he is not going to hire a girl to fill an empty hole that he knew she couldn’t fill. It only wastes time and money. He was observant enough to know, even as he was sitting on the fire escape when the adults were “talking”. He hears bottle caps pried open with chipped teeth and feels the burn of a cigarette on his arm. It is what it is, there's no point in sticking around for someone who never did for him.

“Your only binding thread is some blood and smoke, and two candles burning too fast”

He stares at a closed rec center, torn-up flyers, and a childish spirit. He looks at the lessons and the names. He knows the missing one. He sees white paint like a hospital, and gray like a stone too small to symbolize all the man was. He knows the boy hiding behind sturdy old legs and the shiny new title of prodigy, not yet bearing meaning. He understands the value of trust when they first let you play, only to feel the loss of that trust with everything he had ever known. He feels the anger, the grief, the confusion, and the way everyone was always so tired, tired of playing, tired of staying, tired of him. The lights are off, and no one is there. He does not go further in. Nobody would let him.

“We won't play with you anymore, we are all tired”

He reaches a street he always goes back to nowadays, a volleyball inside an alleyway, a shop that just opened. The lights from inside are ever so welcoming. There are people in there, those just like him, and yet, no matter where he sits, no matter what he orders or what could be said, he is still an outsider. They don’t know him, they could hear him, they could see him, but they could never read him. Like he would let them. He sits in the darkest corner of the light, listening to countless tales, but never chiming in. Nobody throws a french fry at him, and he does not smile. 

 “I do not think I have ever seen you smile”

He arrives back to an apartment, not a home. He gets lost in the noise of silence. Nobody welcomes him back and asks him where he has been. There is just about nothing to eat, and the TV is off. Nobody is hogging the bathroom, and no one is smoking out the window. It is just him. He wishes he was oblivious to the absence. He wishes he was completely and utterly alone just so there would be no company to miss. He could hear his neighbors through the walls, see the neon flashing outside, touch the cold concrete floor, smell the Marlboro light, taste the metallic blood on his hands, but he did not feel anything. Kageyama thinks that is the worst thing of all. 

Kageyama does not remember if he slept that night. He remembers bandaids, a volleyball, the buzz of his phone, and reading through messages. When he becomes coherent, the first thing he does is play volleyball, not even stopping when his vision blurs and his knees start to buckle, he does not stop. Sunday goes by in a blur. He eats leftover rice and takes care of what most people's parents deal with for them. He packs a bento box, tries to finish his math homework, and lets Irutora drag him around Sendai running errands. He does not react when the cops chase them around anymore, and nothing big comes of them losing the red and blue lights. The chaos makes him calmer, not happy, just at ease. He ends up drinking a whole bottle of vodka without issue and is still sober enough to walk home just fine, and 10000 yen richer. He finds no happiness or despair in this. It just is. He is doing fine, and nothing is wrong.

Everything is wrong. They would be so disappointed, his grandfather-

He is still lonely, but calm. He does not reply to Hinata's texts and tries even harder to not consider him a friend. He wishes Hinata would hate him because he hates to admit to caring about Hinata. He knows that if he cares for Hinata, he should not try to be his friend. Hinata had done nothing to deserve bad things and had done nothing wrong, so he should not be punished with Kageyama Tobio. That is a burden nobody should have to bear.

“Kageyama Tobio does not do friendship”

Life is brimming with questions, ones he has heard and ones he has had. 

“Do they like me?”, “Does he like me?” 

Group Chats ask silly questions, and senpai asks serious ones.

“Why do you play volleyball?”

And as much as Kageyama Tobio answers questions and is answered in return, one will always escape him. The one he will never get an answer to.

Are you proud of me?

Would you be proud of me?

Will I ever know?

Pride is a funny thing, the raven-haired boy thinks. Because of all the pride in his skill, his stubbornness, and his ability to last this long, nobody is proud of him.

Well, maybe someone was, once upon a time. But that was a long time past, and a question forever unanswered. 

Pride was buried with smiles, big blue eyes, and older sisters. Pride, just like a “welcome home” and a hot meal, has been estranged from Kageyama Tobio, just another loss. Pride lay six feet deep with the only man who cared for Tobio. 

Kageyama Tobio is calm. He runs through the night. Just another night. He runs and runs. He always does. He flies through the neon lights, through the back alleys. He laughs as he falls and splits his knees open again and again. He feels alive. He feels free, he feels calm, he hates it-

He hates it.

He decides not to befriend Hinata. Or anyone. He did not want to put anyone through that. He did not want another thing to miss, another thing to get lonely over

Chapter Text

Hinata lay awake in bed, impatience keeping him from sleep just yet. The ginger was frustrated. He had texted Kageyama, but that asshole was ignoring him. I mean, maybe Kageyama hadn't ma hadn’t checked his phone, because he was on delivered, but…it still stung a bit. I mean, he had made some progress, right? Kageyama had hung out with them, hell he even smiled, like genuinely. It had to mean something right. Maybe he shouldn't have pointed it out but he was just…happy, he guesses. Maybe he wasn’t thinking though. The face Kageyama made…Lord knows the raven haired setter was shit at hiding emotions, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard to guess what they were, aside from maybe annoyance or anger. The others crossed his face less. The only other one Hinata has been able to recognize was…Determination? Of some kind. He just wishes the other boy would talk about whatever was troubling him, whatever it is. Even something! All Hinata seemed to get out of him was anger or just a straight up cold shoulder! He doesn’t know whether he's mad or sad about that. Probably both. The ginger boy sighed, turning to the text chat he made with the other first years, - Kageyama. So far the texts had been simple, or exasperated. Hinata was getting tired, so he just shot a quick text before drifting off. 

“Do you think Kageyama hates us?”

As he drifted off, he couldn’t help but wonder, did Kageyama actually hate them? Was he only tolerating them, him, for volleyball's sake? Hinata hoped not, but he was starting to become a little hopeless. Hopefully he was wrong, but it was starting to feel like he wasn’t. The ginger drifted off to sleep, hoping tomorrow would bring answers.

Kageyama walked from the bus stop from school in silence, avoiding looking at his phone, the weight of whatever surely mundane texts Hinata had sent him. Maybe by avoiding them, Hinata would give up. He didn’t want the other boy to hate him, but he didn’t want the shrimp to like him either. He just wanted to be teammates, the freak quick duo and nothing more, even if Hinata was making it difficult for him not to want to be friends. Whatever Hinata was doing, he was probably just being his stupid self. Nobody wants to be friends with him. He repeated it in his head like a matra, accompanied by Kindachis echoed words of how they were never friends in the first place. The memory of what happened after that game was hazy, like he wasn’t even there, but watching from afar. He remembers the boy's tears. 

“Why did you have to make volleyball not fun anymore?”

He shook his head. Never again. He gets broken out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps behind him. He turns to see the ginger, panic rising in his throat. He makes a jerky nod as the other boy falls in step with him…a sort of look on his face. The ginger was too quiet and it made Kageyama nervous.

“...hey, uh, Kageyama, did you get my texts?”

“Uhh…no.” 

Kageyama gripped his phone in his pocket, refusing to look at the ginger. Hinata raises an eyebrow. 

“Well…can you just check it, I thought you were ignoring me man..”

Hinata trails off with a chuckle, and Kageyama hates that he can tell what the ginger was feeling without looking at his face. The familiarity rubbed him the wrong way.

“I…uh…don’t have my phone”

“...bullshit Kageyama. I can see you holding it in your pocket. I'm not dumb you know!”

Kageyama can’t suppress the eyeroll. The shrimp was, in fact, dumb. He glares at his pocket before taking out his phone with a grumble.

“...PFFT KAGEYAMAAA WHY DOES YOUR PHONE HAVE RHINESTONES ON IT???”

Kageyama can feel his face heat up.

“SHUT UP BOKE! ITS A HAND ME DOWN YOU ASSHOLE”

“Yeah, whatever makes you feel better bakeyama”

Kageyama glares at him, resisting the urge to push him down the hill, until he gets a better idea. Kageyama grins evilly, before shoving Hinata slightly backwards.

“Says the shrimp about to be second to the school”, Before taking off in a sprint down the hill. The wind whistles in his ears, carrying the indigent squawking of the shrimp with it.

“WHA- KAGEYAMA YOU FUCKING CHEATER! GET BACK HERE DAMMIT!”

Kageyama runs faster, approaching the school in a sprint, footsteps desperately trying to catch up from behind him. He gets to the school first, obviously, already buying milk from the vending machine as Hinata wobbles in behind him, breathing heavily. 

“Damnit…why the hell are you so fucking fast?? Asshole…”

Kageyama shrugs. 

“Because I run every day for training. Maybe you should too.”

They part ways in the hall, going to separate classes. Kageyama sits in his English seat, bored. He spends most of his classes that way, trying not to fall asleep, just so he didn’t invoke the wrath of his teachers, who would report it to the coach. Kageyama knows from experience that it wasn’t worth it, even for a little probably much needed rest. In the restroom in between first and second period he saw his ever-growing eyebags in the mirror, and a voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Miwa scolding him for how bad they looked. His hair was getting dangerously close to covering his eyes. Maybe he should call Miwa, but he wasn’t about to bother her. Damn, they haven’t talked in ages. With his permanent scowl and height combined with longer hair and eye bags, he looked a bit like a delinquent. Thank god he didn’t grow facial hair, or else people would be even more scared of him then they were of Asahi. People were already just as scared of him, even the second years and a handful of third years were wary of him. Figures, if you think about it he was kinda a delinquent by association. Maybe that’s why the third year delinquents didn’t bother him, well yet. They had bothered all of the other first years on the team at least once, even Tsukishima, despite his height. Granted, they probably only messed with the blonde because he was an asshole, but whatever. They probably bothered Yamaguchi the most, because he was timid. If the shrimp wasn’t so damn loud they would probably fuck with him the most. He rarely ever ran into them though, so there's no telling if they would mess with him or not. 

The lunch bell finally rang, and Kageyama got up quickly to go to the rooftop. Usually there wasn’t anyone there, so he could probably practice for a bit after eating. On his way there, he noticed Yamaguchi walking with some girl in the opposite direction. Both of them looked a bit scared, which Kageyama found odd. He knew Yamaguchi was an anxious guy, but not without reason. Kageyama hoped it wasn’t serious, because of volleyball. Duh. Plus Yamaguchi was the first who offered to pay for him last night, and Kageyama found him to be a good person. He put it on the back burner, walking up to the roof. Unfortunately, he saw the third year delinquents up there. So much for peace. He turned around to go find somewhere without people to eat, but he stopped when he heard them talking loudly. 

“Hey isn’t he on the Volleyball team with that freckled asshole who just fucked with us” 

Kageyama paused, were they talking about Yamaguchi? But that didn’t make sense, as Yamaguchi didn’t fuck with other people. Even if they were by no means very close, Kageyama knew that much. He had his answer shortly, however.

“Yeah, Imma fuck him up for trying to “Defend” That girl earlier. Who does he think he is? We were just trying to have a friendly talk with her. Haha, the stuck up bitch was pretending she was too good for us.”

Kageyama clenched his jaw. He hated guys like this. They all had very big, very punchable, heads, and were cowards. He could feel their eyes on him, and could tell they were whispering about something. Whatever, he didn’t have time for this bullshit, not when his day was already going pretty well. 

“HEY YOU! Volleyball guy, come over here, we got something to tell you”

Kageyama rolled his eyes before turning around

“What”

He could tell the lack of fear in his response bothered the other guy, because the whole group stood up and made their way over to them. 

“So you wanna be difficult huh? Well, I'll give you a chance. Tell your little friend that we’re kicking his ass after school. Got it?”

Kageyama frowned, if Yamaguchi got beat up by these guys it would be bad. He knew the other boy wouldn’t be able to do much. The main guy was getting close, and Kageyama could smell his awful breath. He made his decision. If these guys wanted to beat up his teammate, he would deal with it instead. 

“No. He can’t practice if you do that. So fuck off.”

From the expression the delinquent made, he knew the provocation had worked. Good. He was itching to put them in their place, especially since Kageyama knew they had it coming. 

“What the fuck did you say?”

*SMACK*

The palm hit his face hard, but Kageyama wasn’t fazed. He was sure it would bruise. Good. He already had some injuries, so he was now in the clear. These guys thought they were untouchable because they were some delinquents who had never been in a real fight before, as they had just pushed people who didn’t resist around. Kageyama had been in a real fight. Many real fights. In fact, when he was new in the Red-Light district neighborhood, he had gotten in at least 10 fights to avoid getting mugged. And while he was successful, he sustained a lot of minor injuries and one knife wound. When he stumbled into the apartment complex that night bleeding, Irutora had decided to teach him to fight. Well kinda. Kageyama was tall and strong, all he needed was some basic knowledge. How to throw a punch, get the upper hand through any means necessary, minimize damage, and that there's no such thing as fighting dirty in a street fight or when a group is ganging up on you. Things these guys were clearly lacking, besides experience. 

“Now kid. You don’t like fighting from what I can tell. But you have to hold your ground well. The moment they hit first, do whatever you need to do. Don’t hesitate in a fight. That is the first rule of how you fight. Don’t start fights, but finish them. Understand?”

Kageyama nodded as the other boy was glowering at him, thinking he had already won. Idiot. It was self defense now, and he had physical proof. As the other boy went to hit Kageyama again, he left himself right open. He threw a quick punch to the guy's jaw, knocking him off guard. The guy looked shocked and angry as he stumbled back, and Kageyama used his long legs to his advantage. He kicked the guy square in the nuts, watching as he howled and fell to the ground, his friends watching, frozen in shock. 

“WHAT THE HELL? THAT ISN”T FAIR YOU ASSHOLE!”

“Fair? It’s three against one, and you hit me first. This is a street fight dumbass, there aren’t any fucking rules.”

Kageyama looks at the other two.

“So who's next?”

The other two delinquents back up, looking scared and confused.

“Hmm…cowards. Don’t fuck with my teammates, cause ill kick your asses again.”

The three delinquents back up, the one who Kageyama had laid out glaring at him.

“Tch…fucking prick…you just got lucky”

The delinquents head off the roof, and Kageyama sits. Fuck, he only had 10 minutes to eat, those assholes had wasted his lunch. 

After the rest of the tedious day of classes, Kageyama heads to practice, the only reason he came to school, if he's honest. (He couldn’t give less of a shit about quadratic equations)

He comes up from behind the gym, hearing arguing. He turns the corner to see Yamaguchi standing scared while Tanaka is yelling at the three delinquents from earlier. Kageyama’s eyes narrowed. Fucking assholes. He quietly walks to Yamaguchi, appearing next to him behind Tanaka, shooting the delinquents the most withering glare he could manage, the one that made children cry, cracking his knuckles. Yamaguchi shoots him a look asking him silently to not get involved. The look is replaced with surprise as the guy who was now holding Tanaka by his collar drops him down, laughing nervously. Tanka snarls at him, unaware of Kageyama behind him. The three mumble something before running off. Kageyama grins. Fucking cowards. Tanaka turns around to gloat, before seeing Kageyama.

“HAHA Did ya see that! They must’ve been scared of me. If they ever bother you again, your awesome senpai will take care of it! You too Kageyama!”

As Tanaka heads to the gym, Kageyama goes to follow him, but is stopped by Yamaguchi.

“Thanks Kageyama…I know it was you who scared them off…but…uhm…how?”

Kageyama shrugs, not wanting to tell the green haired boy that he got in a fight for him. So he tells them the half truth.

“They picked a fight with me at lunch. And…”

Yamaguchi’s eyes widened in surprise, and if he knew it was because Kageyama defended him, he didn’t say anything. 

“You beat them?”

“Of course. He has a bruised jaw for a reason. He isn’t a good fighter, no experience, cocky, and a coward.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes grew a bit concerned.

“And you’ve been in a real fight…?”

Kageyama just shrugs and walks towards the gym, hoping Yamaguchi would drop it. The other boy did, but as Kageyama headed to the gym, he missed the way the other boy behind him smiled.

Practice had fallen back to normal for the first time since he and Hinata got in that fight. The two boys had resumed their normal bickering, and the team was both relieved and exasperated. Kageyama and Hinata had gotten back to their normal rotation of hitting their quick attack, looking even stronger than before. Kageyama was almost smiling, well almost. He wasn’t about to go around smiling just because he felt like he belonged on a team. But he didn’t frown either. He felt free for the first time in weeks. Practice was slowly returning to an alternate world where he didn’t have any burdens, he could just fly free, far away from his tiny apartment and loneliness. But it wasn’t perfect. There was always the lingering worry it would all come crashing down. Whether by some stupid grasp in the dark for friendship or a poorly placed bruise. All it could take was one sentence, and that scared him. He was at least used to feeling unstable and lonely, especially in the dark apartment he had to walk back to. It was cruel, honestly. You get so used to feeling utterly alone that you don’t know what to do when it’s not there. What a fucked problem to have, Kageyama thinks. He sometimes wonders to a distant future where he wasn’t plagued by this. Always trying to look for something better. But as practice went on, he stopped thinking. He played volleyball, set after set, finding bits of warmth when his fingers touched the ball. He found small glimpses of joy in the present. It went by in a blur, and as he packs up it’s almost like coming down from a high. He walks through the parking lot with Tsukishima and Hinata, as Yamaguchi has already left for an appointment. Hinata babbles on, and Tsukishima is quiet. It was mundane, familiar. Kageyama couldn’t place the feeling in his heart, and he couldn’t tell whether he liked or hated it. Tsukishima is staring at him. So is Hinata. He doesn’t like this feeling of being studied. He could recognize that at least. Soon enough they come to the crossroads where they part.

“Soooo…Bakeyama.”

Hinata looked oddly serious, and Tsukishima hadn’t left yet. Kageyama can’t help but think they know something he doesn’t, and it’s pissing him off.

“Check your phone dammit!”

Kageyama’s face contorts quickly into a sort of disappointed expression, and Tsukishima facepalms. Kageyama thinks neither of them expected that answer, but he’s not sure why Tsukishima cares.

“Fine, stupid Hinata. I'll check my damn phone”

“Your phone with the-OWW”

Kageyama kicked him in the shin, Tsukishima was not going to know about the damn rhinestones. They part ways after a couple exchanged insults, and Kageyama walks alone to the bus stop. He sits down on the cool bench, feeling that feeling of freedom seeping away. He hates the way he finds himself desperately trying to retain it. He boards his bus and sits in his seat, nodding to the driver. He passes through nice neighborhoods and one business district, feeling something akin to envy in his chest. Damnit. He was lucky, grateful, for the life he has, but damn if it doesn’t hurt sometimes. You know, maybe if he lived in a normal neighborhood, he could have people over without worry, practice volleyball and walk places without a lingering sense of paranoia. Wishes he had normal parents and circumstance, a mom and dad who worked normal business jobs and came home each night. Who would maybe come to his games, even. Maybe then, despite his complete lack of social skill, he could actually make (and keep) friends. As he trudges through neon lit streets and back to his apartment, he tries to strengthen his resolve. He would do his best with what he has, he would be the strongest, even if he knew he would have endless sacrifices to make. But as he enters his cold apartment, he wonders when he stopped getting used to being so damn lonely. He would rather be totally alone than have to deal with realizing it. If he was totally alone, he could be okay with it. He wondered why it was so damn hard to not be okay with it now. He knew though. He knew why. And he hated it. 

Kageyama’s night went like all his other lonely nights. He was alone and it was fine. It was fine, it was fine-

His phone kept going off. Damn shrimp, and damn fucking group chat. He glanced at his phone, then at his tiny, lonely, cold apartment.

And he flipped his phone open. 

The group chat of the other first years had been growing in messages little by little since Hinata's text last night. Due to some slight overreaction on Kindachis part, he had to clarify he was just a bit annoyed and felt somewhat hopeless and ended up sending a rambly text to clear things up, which much to Hinata's annoyance, Tsukishima made fun of him for. Damn bastard just made fun of Hinata and hadn’t said much useful, other than Kageyama probably just didn’t want to talk to him, which could barely be counted as useful anyway. Yamaguchi was optimistic, saying he didn’t think Kageyama hated them, and maybe even liked them as teammates. Which was nice, but…well they all agreed Kageyama didn’t care about them too much. Kindachi shared that sentiment in a more negative light, but it was better than him hating them. Kageyama had actually texted him that night, but…it was completely dry and unenthusiastic until Hinata mentioned volleyball. As Hinata lay in his bed, just beyond the clutches of sleep, he wondered if the only reason Kageyama even seemed to care about anything was because of volleyball. It would make sense. He clearly has some issues with family, and is…oddly detached outside of volleyball. But, at the very least, he put up with almost everything Hinata has done for the sake of the sport. And that means Kageyama cares, at least a little. It was the hope Hinata was latching onto. One thing was clear though. If Hinata wanted to make any progress with Kageyama, he would need to know more about the other boy. How to go about it though…That was a problem for future Hinata. As he drifted to sleep, he wished that tomorrow would bring something better, whether it be with volleyball or Kageyama. Hopefully both.

Chapter Text

Kageyama has had what he considers to be one of the best weeks of the past year. He was  working well with the volleyball team without issues, well if you didn’t consider all the stares, questions, and concerns he got when he did or said something “weird”. Like Wednesday, when his phone started ringing in the middle of practice, and he had to dive for it before any of his teammates saw it, making Hinata laugh. The call ended up being Irutora telling him about some possible thing he needs some extra hands for over the weekend, and it ended with a loud ass noise that Kageyama recognized as a fucked up car engine, followed by a cut-off scream of “fuck”, which made everyone in the gym look at him. Kageyama didn’t know that the phone could put out that much noise when it wasn’t on speaker, but maybe it was just the echo in the gym. He started being extra careful to put his phone on silent during practice. He also had to be extra careful to hide it from anybody but Hinata. Speaking of the ginger, he was back to asking his fucky ass questions, but so far Kageyama had refrained from telling him anything too incriminating. Unfortunately, as Kageyama spent more time with him, even just during practice, he found himself not hating the ginger's company. So far he had just attempted to ignore that fact and keep Hinata at arm's length, even if the shrimp was making it difficult. Even if Kageyama found himself becoming…more like friends with the ginger, he still struggled to keep himself from fucking throwing Hinata across the gym. Thank god he didn’t like starting fistfights and respected the gingers' drive for volleyball, or he would be on trial for aggravated assault charges by now. Kageyama truly had to admire his everyday self-control, if he wasn’t so consumed with volleyball, Tsukishima and Oikawa would have much to fear. Thankfully, those two weren’t causing him trouble for now, and he could speak in the group chat without getting borderline harassed. 

Friday had rolled around quickly, at least Kageyama felt so, as he silenced his phone while walking from the bus stop, finger hovering over Miwas contact for a couple of seconds. He wants to see her, get a haircut, and catch up, just…feel like he has some semblance of a normal family he had been wishing for even more recently. He decides against it. Maybe later. He also wants to ask around on how to change his ringtone, because it was some sort of weird American song by…Kesha? He didn’t know, and thankfully neither did his team, but it would probably still be a good idea to change it because whoever Kesha was, she sounded…very club girl-like, even if he had no idea what the fuck she was singing about. Frowning, Kageyama puts his phone away and starts walking to practice. His newest strategy for being a good teammate and someone they would keep on the court was finding out what was “weird” and avoiding it. And by weird, he means certain things he does that may or may not give away details about his life his team doesn’t need to know. “Keep everyone at arm's length,” he thought, walking down a quiet road, until he heard loud and heavy footfalls headed towards him. Not even bothering to look back, he starts running with a grin. As expected, the ginger behind him squawks, calling him an asshole while trying to catch up. Kageyama beats Hinata to the gym, although not by as much as he would’ve liked. Grinning, he turns to gloat, only to be yelled at.

“HOW DID YOU KNOW I WAS COMING? YOU CHEATED ASSHOLE!!!”

Kageyama has to use all his willpower not to laugh at the ginger. Unfortunately, that's the extent of his willpower, and he rolled his eyes so aggressively that Kageyama was pretty sure he saw his brain. 

“Because I heard you, you fucking idiot. Are you so stupid you didn’t realize that?”

Hinata frowns, sticking his lip out before puffing his chest out in a ridiculous attempt to intimidate Kageyama.

“B-But…How did you know it was me huh? You didn’t even turn around! You’re the idiot”

Kageyama raised his eyebrow at the ginger who already looked like he thought he won the argument. Orange fool. It's a wonder he hasn’t been kidnapped or murdered already.

“Because idiot, I didn’t. I just thought it was. Even if it wasn’t you, I would’ve run anyway.”

Hinata looks skeptical, and Kageyama just kinda looks at him in disbelief when he opens his mouth to ask why

“Wha- You really are stupid! If someone is running at you from behind, they are either tryna fuck you up, or they’re running from someone who’s tryna fuck them up, then you run away too. It's common sense dimwit, I’m surprised you haven’t gotten kidnapped. Or trampled. Because you're short. 

Hinata glared, jumping up and down like it would make him look tall. Kageyama just thought it made him look like an angry orange frog.

“No, I’m amazed you haven’t gotten arrested, what if it’s the police-”

“Then you run FASTER, are you dumb!?”

Hinata paused, looking up at Kageyama like he had just told Hinata he was a British hooker named Carol. Kageyama stared back, confused. He was right, so why was the shrimp looking at him like that? The other boy didn’t say anything, just giving up and turning to get dressed for practice. Kageyama raised his eyebrow, but just dropped it. Maybe it was one of those things that was considered weird, and that maybe he shouldn’t bring up to avoid intense questioning and suspicion. All this walking around on eggshells and “fucking around and finding out” was getting tiring. But he was going to be the best, despite it all. And maybe have a good, normal relationship with his teammates, or even a friend or two, but that was all wishful thinking. 

How the hell he got to the point he wanted friends, he didn’t know, but that was beside the point.

He began to practice, stretching, setting drills, spiking… Kageyama found his rhythm quickly, once again remembering why he continued to put himself through the constant stares, and worry, and not quite belonging. For the simple, all-consuming freedom that took hold whenever he set the ball. The momentary release from his all-consuming stress was much needed. But life was never that simple. In between, there were random questions, and looks in his direction, and a dynamic he couldn’t quite get. Perhaps things that aren’t transactional, or that involve trust, are a bit lost on him. As practice finishes, he heads to class, almost running away from the look Hinata was giving him, like Kageyama was a puzzle he was almost on the brink of solving. Classes passed slowly, boring and dull. Lunch was a welcome respite, and he sat alone again. He should get used to eating alone again. Eating with the other first years was fun, but he didn’t want to think about why he wanted to eat with them again. It probably wasn’t a good thing, he thought, glaring at his chicken. Practice made him giddy when it came around. He got to exist  with his teammates, and feel like he belonged. He liked to spend time pretending he belonged. And playing volleyball. Because when he was playing, he did belong. Time sped up and slowed down, set after set. He felt like himself. The version of himself he actually liked. He got in his own head in a good way. Maybe that's why he didn’t realize all the questions he answered with shrugs, or the stares he got, or the whispers. He didn’t notice something was wrong until he stopped playing. He was very used to things being wrong when he wasn’t playing, so the fact he actually noticed it was…concerning. 

As he made his way to Coach Ukais' store with the team, he felt very uncomfortable. The questions were less frequent, but held too much weight. It was suffocating. Why couldn’t he fade into the background, or better yet, belong like everyone else? Why was he so different? It didn’t make sense to him. He loved volleyball, couldn’t they just leave it like that? Maybe it was the way things weren’t transactional, which felt a lot more like he wasn’t good enough. Maybe it was because everyone else had lives they could talk about. Maybe it was the way he couldn't cover up his own problems with charisma, because he was too angry, too blunt. Perhaps that's why Tsukishima got away with it. He was worse than Kageyama, but he didn’t walk around like he was hiding something and snapping at normal questions. Maybe that’s how Oikawa got away with being rude, because he was charismatic and could keep up with his own facade. Or why Hinata could be loud and annoying, because he was nice and open. He just didn’t have a saving grace. Just volleyball. He started to stop saying anything and just scowled. It didn’t get great reception, but he would just have to tell himself he didn’t care. He had cleaned up his act on the court, so it wouldn’t be a repeat of middle school, so long as he tried not to snap, despite his patience and will power being tested constantly.  Curse his fucking life and lies. He would carry on as long as he could, just like always. He survived his Grandfather's death, survived middle school, the streets, his parents…he could make it through this. Just focus on volleyball, no matter what he feels he has to put up with. They aren’t trying to get rid of him…they aren’t trying to expose his secrets for their own desires. It was fine. It was fine. He braced himself for whatever would happen inside the store as they met up with the Aoba Johsai team. He wouldn’t snap. Not again. He was here for volleyball, so there was no need. He wasn’t going to make any friends, so he doesn’t have to worry. Just keep calm, keep quiet. It wasn’t that hard. 

Ok, so easier said than done. If he thought the staring could make him lose his mind, the look of something akin to pity in Daichis eyes when he saw Kageyama's food stamps card. When Kageyama sat in the back of the group eating a warm meatbun, he could only try to be grateful Daichi didn’t announce even more of his struggles to everyone, but it was only a small mercy. Everyone looked at him with their own little pieces of information of his shit show of a life, looking at him with gears turning whenever he did something that sparked their interest. Thank god he was enough of an afterthought to many of them, otherwise they could probably each share what they know and make a pretty good guess of what happened to him. Of what the fuck was wrong with him. It was so fucking annoying. He didn’t know if he would rather be despised or have to deal with this. He just wanted to play volleyball for fucks sake. Why did his only escape have to come with this shit show. Was it some divine karma? For what even, he had paid his due of pain to the universe ten times over, or at least that's how he felt. For once in his life, why couldn’t he just keep a good thing good? He already felt fed up and deflated, and he still had to spend a good chunk of his evening here. Maybe he was being picky, or greedy, staying in a place he complains about only to go back to that empty apartment he lived in.  “Pick a struggle” Kageyama thought. He just needed to focus on volleyball, not what people thought, thought they knew about him. It didn’t matter, as long as they tolerated him. So he stayed quiet in the back, keeping his head down.

Tsukishima had always fancied himself as something of a people watcher, observing others for various reasons. His teammates were no exception. Some he observed for fun, some out of respect he wouldn’t admit. The one he hated watching the most, however, was Kageyama. Even when he seemed so dead set on being a total basket case, even when the shrimp wasn’t bothering him. What was his deal, either he was so stuck up he couldn’t bear talking to anyone, or he was…too wary. Either way, it upset Tsukishima. Because either way, he refused to be decent or even interactive to anyone outside of practice, for no reason other than not trusting people who wouldn’t betray him. Why was he so stuck in the past, in his head? Why couldn’t Tsukishima understand Kageyama? He should have him figured out by now, but the raven haired setter seemed impossible to decipher. He was stubborn. Maybe the most stubborn person Tsukishima had ever met, annoyingly stuck in his ways. Sure, maybe he wasn’t as kingly as he once was, at least from what he knows from Kunimi and Kindaichi, but he was still…just…so infuriating. But if Kageyama wanted to continue to dig his own grave so badly, Tsukishima would let him. He wasn’t like Yamaguchi, who seemed to actually want to help the King for some god forsaken reason. Despite wanting to tear into the king, make him lose his cool and pick him apart piece by piece, finally gaining the information he wanted, he didn’t. He would sit back and watch for now. Given the way the king looked like he was about to lose it, maybe that wouldn’t be the worst decision. 

“Hey King, why are you so quiet? Can’t stand talking to us huh?”

Kageyama took a large bite of his meatbun. He wasn’t rising to the bait.

“Well, at least he’s not yelling. I’d prefer him being quiet and standoffish to middle school.”

“Yeah, thank god for that…Yikes, karasuno doesn’t know how good they have it with him.”

If they thought they were being quiet with their whispered condescension of a past he can’t stand either, he could hear them loud and clear. But he wasn’t going to rise to it. Not now. He couldn’t prove another point about him, not when it would cause him more problems. What a joy. 99 problems and he wishes bitches were all of them, or however that song goes. That shit would be easier that way. For sure. At least Kageyama thinks so. He doesn’t have bitches, and he doesn’t want them, he doesn’t need more problems, but- wait…where did this train of thought even come from? 

He’s honestly not sure if his tendency to lose his train of thought when it wasn’t volleyball related or something he wanted to think about was a good thing or not…

“Oi Tobio-chan, stop being so rude. Just because you would rather be playing right now doesn’t mean you can just ignore me.”

Ok fuck, maybe not. 

Now that Kageyama snapped out his trance of staring at the wall, he took another bite of his meatbun, just to avoid saying anything. If he had to talk right now, he would probably regret what he said. Oh well, Iwaizumi just saved him from Oikawa, like always anyways. Well, maybe. Smacking Oikawa in the head would likely redirect this shitfest away from his thinning patience.

“Rude Iwa-chan! I was just trying to ask dear Tobio-chan why he was so quiet, I mean I know he’s a little prick, but he could at least talk to us! Hmph. So much for trying to be nice to him.”

Kageyama was running out of meatbun to eat. Fuck. At least they talk a lot. Not to be nice to him, but ignorance is better than insults. Kageyama briefly wonders what would happen if he told Oikawa to shut his mouth before someone puts a dick in it. Nothing good for him, but the expression on everyone's faces might be worth it. He’s really trying not to say anything he would regret right now.

“Kageyama, why don’t you talk huh? Did we do something to you?”

“He’s just like that, at least he’s not yelling.” 

“Yeah, thank god. No reason to be a dick right now, we aren’t even on the court!”

Whether they know or not the effect their words are having, Kageyama was starting to lose it. But he wasn’t going to snap.

“Aw, don’t say that, what if you hurt the king's feelings…”

Kageyama is grateful for what he has. His teammates don’t hate him. Their laughter sounds like nails on a chalkboard. He wants to scream. Why can’t he just be normal about it?

“...Kageyama…The king…

…Kageyama…

…King…

…King…

…Tobio-chan…

…Kageyama… 

…Kageyama…

…King…

King

KingKingKingKingKing-

“-Hey Kageyama-”

“Will you just shut the fuck up already?”

Silence.

Everyone was looking. Judging. Hinata looked confused, maybe even hurt.

“I-I just wanted to ask-”

“No. No more fucking questions. I don’t care if you’re trying to be nice. Just fucking stop. You’re being fucking annoying and I can’t take it. I play volleyball. I’m a setter. That's it. I’m just your teammate, stop asking so goddamn much of me. I have enough to deal with.”

All over again. …Just another thing to deal with…? 

Disappointment. Anger. Not surprise. Hurt. Hinata looked hurt. The silence wasn’t going to last. This was it. No more stupid ideas of friends, no more teammates that liked him. Back to the loneliness that never quite left. Back to what he knew.

“Hey,-”

“But-”

“You-”

Apologize

“You should-”

“Why won’t you-”

“He never-”

So much for proving anything wrong-

No

So much for anything

“I’ve got to go.”

Simple, blunt, to the point-

Rude.

“Kageyama wait-”

“I have work to do. I don’t have time for this shit. I’ll see you at the game tomorrow.”

Kageyama left the store in silence. He could hear the words from inside, but they didn’t register. He knew what they were saying about him. Maybe they would leave him alone to play volleyball and wallow in the misery and stress of life outside it. Maybe they would all hate him. He felt like he was being followed by the words, the stares. He started to walk faster. Why was he in a hurry? Nobody was waiting for him at home. Nobody was waiting for him at all. And nobody was going to chase after him. Good. He looked behind him and nobody was there- It was getting late. He still couldn’t shake the feeling of something following him. Something familiar. Twisted. Something that made him feel like his heart was slowly being burned to ash. He was no phoenix. Nothing would rise from those ashes. His feet hit the ground with increasing frequency. What was he running from? 

The night blurred around him. He ran like it would take the weight of his shoulders, like he didn’t need to look back to know that someone was there. Maybe someone was. All it took was a day. One day and now he’s back to square one. He tripped and stumbled. He never looked back. Nothing was there. Nobody was-

The alleyways turn familiar. The blurred faces recognizable should his eyes focus. It’s all the same isn’t it? The world will keep on spinning, but the feeling only persists. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He doesn’t bother to say anything. Or read anything. He mutes the chat and puts his status as offline. 

Guilt

Loss.

The apartment hasn’t changed. He only feels worse. He doesn’t know where he put his phone. It’s fine. He still had volleyball. He still had something. He had done what he needed to do. He didn’t say anything. They wouldn’t find out now. Not after everything. They couldn’t. 

He did what was best. What he had to do. 

So why does he have this regret? 

Chapter Text

Everyone watched as Kageyama left. Some tried yelling to him to get him to come back, some to apologize. A few were dumbfounded, some…almost smug, an “I told you so” sort of look. Hinata just kinda stood there. He was hurt, if he was being honest. He felt like he had made some real progress, and then Kageyama just…reversed it all again. He was starting to wonder why he even bothered. Kageyama just didn’t seem to care for him, or anyone else outside of volleyball skill. Were they all really that expendable to him? Based on Kindachi’s expression, yes. A part of him was upset with Kageyama, for blowing up on him like that, for not even trying, it seemed. Yet, another part of him knew better, that the others were the reason for Kageyama’s outburst, and that they also owed them both an apology. But it still didn’t change the fact that Kageyama had just…walked out. He didn’t even try to talk about it. They would listen! Hinata would listen to him. But no. What had any of them done, well asides maybe Tsukishima, and from what Hinata observed, Oikawa, do to make him this…closed off? Hinata couldn’t think of anything. He just couldn’t wrap his head around what Kageyama was so afraid of. Because he was just getting hurt giving the other boy the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just an asshole. He didn’t bother talking to the other first years about it on the way back. The silence spoke volumes. He decided against texting Kageyama. The other boy likely wouldn’t even say sorry. No matter how much pressure was put on him. The feeling of being so…unwanted, unappreciated, stung. Kageyama was the first person who really understood his passion, put effort into helping him play. Yet, Kageyama clearly didn’t see Hinata in the same light. The realization that the other boy just saw him as a nuisance hurt him deeply. He looked at the groupchat, most of them trying to get Kageyama to apologize, to even say something, but the other boy didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He sent a text to the other first years in their little group chat, a simple, “I’m just not gonna worry about it anymore.”. The others supported the decision, making Hinata feel a bit better. He still clung onto a small hope that things would change, a feeling that stemmed from the fact of missing the other boy. But he wasn’t going to bother Kageyama anymore. Not if all he got was a reaction like that at the end of the day. Kunimi and Tsukishima were right. Kageyama would only ever change so much, and he would never let any of them in. He wouldn’t be a total dick to Kageyama, he wouldn’t be like the other boy's old teammates, because that wouldn’t help shit. But…despite the other boy’s obvious struggle, Hinata didn’t want to keep trying just to get hurt. Even if a part of him felt bad for it.

Kageyama spent his walk home wallowing in misery. He felt bad, but at the same time, relieved. He felt…normal. Even if that might not be a good thing given his track record with normal. He didn’t want to think about it. He hated how down he always felt heading back from volleyball practice. Maybe his Father was right, everyone had an addiction. His was definitely volleyball, because whenever he stopped playing it felt like coming down from a high. Kageyama thought that wasn’t a good thing. Mainly because he didn’t know what to do about his  teammates anymore. Each conversation, each instance of being stuck between a rock and a hard place made him feel more and more like the one guy from…Greek mythology(?) The one that rolled the boulder up a hill for all of eternity? Kageyama didn’t remember. What could he do? Start doing actual drugs? No, he needed to stay in shape for volleyball- Goddamnit. He was more addicted to volleyball than his father was to crack. His “special interest”, as Miwa put it. He was so caught up in his thoughts and trying to ignore his phone that he almost wasn’t really paying attention to where he was going, and as he turned down a side street by some car garage, he almost got pancaked. He let out a confused shout, and jumped out of the way. He was almost going to apologize, but he couldn’t over the loud swearing and the sound of a doomed car engine. Before he could register he recognized the voice, a woman in her early 20s hopped out of the car, apologizing to him. She was dressed in a style of Gyaru Kageyama had come to vaguely recognized as Agejo, after that one magazine that all of them raved about.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry, you need to watch where you’re going better! You almost got hit, are you ok?”

The woman spoke in a high pitched voice, and she spoke so fast that a disoriented Kageyama almost couldn’t keep up. She was cut off by a voice that Kageyama recognized, pulling him out of his daze.

“Goddamnit Kid. You’re going to get hit by a car one of these days…” 

Irutora said with his gruff tone of voice, speaking in an almost condescending tone that made Kageyama's brow furrow. 

“Oi, you don’t have to apologize to him, it’s just Nainsu.”

He said, looking over at the woman. She raised an eyebrow, and Kageyama started to feel nervous, like he was some sort of insect being studied. 

“...That's Nainsu ? Him …?”

The woman said. She gave Irutora a look, to which he just shrugged, and turned to Kageyama, also studying him.

“What the hell's up with you kid…?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. He had known Kageyama enough to recognize the boy's despair, but just sighed. He would deal with it later. “Well, I’m going to deal with this fucking car. I’ll…deal with this later.” He nods to Kageyama and the woman, who was giving him another look. Kageyama didn’t like this one bit. So much for at least coming back to peace. With that, Irutora left, heading back into the garage, leaving Kageyama alone with the woman. Kageyama didn’t have much of an opinion of her. She was a Gyaru, around Miwa’s age. Well, no opinion isn’t quite right. Kageyama didn’t like the way she stared at him. He decided he should probably just leave, but this woman wouldn’t let him?

“Hold on. There’s something wrong with you.” The woman said, which, ok. That’s not…why did shit like this always happen to Kageyama? It was annoying.

“I-I think i’m fine, so i’m just gonna-”

“---Nope! IRUTORAAAAAA~” The woman screamed. Goddamnit, Kageyama thought. Tanaka and Nishinoya would love her. Not only is she a woman, but she’s so loud. His face falls momentarily, and he gets a little caught up in his head…his teammates…But that would prove to be a problem for later. Irutora just yelled back.

“I DON’T GIVE A SHIT. DO WHAT YOU WANT WITH HIM.”

Kageyama paused. Why couldn’t he just go home and wallow in his misery? 

  “Irutora-san-”

“SAVE IT NAINSU, I’LL TALK TO YOU LATER. JUST SHUT UP AND PLAY DRESS UP WITH HER OR SOME SHIT.”

And just like that, Kageyama was being dragged off to some place he didn’t really want to go with this woman. She sits him down on the floor of a messy ass apartment. Kageyama scowled at her.

“What do you want?”

The woman gave him an odd look. Like she was sorry for him.

“What's wrong with you? I’m actually curious. You look…miserable. Like…more than you should. You don’t look old enough to have the problems you have.”

Kageyama frowned. Ah. She was nosy. Well, what did he have to lose by talking to her? She was just a random stranger lady. She couldn’t ruin his life, or make it better. She was someone removed from his life either in these streets, but more importantly, she couldn’t take anything from him. She had nothing to do with volleyball.

“I…I just…I’m not good with people. And it’s slowly ripping me away from the only thing that keeps me going.”

Kageyama explained. He could hear how lost he sounded. The woman frowned slightly. I guess that was heavier than he thought. But she asked, and it felt kinda nice to talk to someone without fear. 

“…oh…well…I mean I can kinda tell you’re no good with people. I mean…who cares? Just talk to them-“

“I can’t. I can’t tell them- I…I can’t risk it. Either I barely hold on silently, or I take a risk and fuck up everything I’ve worked so hard to keep. Not like it matters. They just think everything’s so fucking easy for me. I’ve fucked up before. They won’t believe me. Anyone who does will just fuck everything up. Because they can’t possibly understand.”

Kageyama spoke without thinking now. He couldn’t figure out what to do anymore. He was on the verge of breaking down. It was like everything was riding on the match tomorrow. He’s put all his eggs in one basket. He’s pushed himself and everyone around him to the brink. He didn’t even want advice anymore. He didn’t even want to talk to her. He just wanted someone to fucking listen. Someone to hear him and not judge him. He didn’t even care about the look of pity on her face. Actually, that’s a lie. He minded. He didn’t want pity. What fucking good would pity do. But he didn’t yell at her or snap. He was so fucking tired of feeling like he had to fight for himself at every turn with no help. He was tired of clawing his way to a semi decent place, only to bottle everything up and blow up. He was tired of yelling, of fighting, of hurting people because he just had so much anger and he didn’t know what to do with it. Volleyball was his only outlet, but volleyball was a team sport. He kept burdening everyone with his problems, but nobody knew what they were. He would never let them in, and they would only see him as this one dimensional asshole prodigy. He was at a stalemate, with his teammates, with his life, with himself. He just kinda sat there. The woman just sat there. She looked at this guy, hell, this boy…and she couldn’t help but feel some sympathy. Life hadn’t dealt either of them a good hand, and now, they were both clinging on to the one thing keeping them going despite it all. She knew they weren’t the same. Not even close.Yet, she felt that listening to him was something she had to do, despite this kid being a stranger. She remembered that just having a stranger listen, just listened…it helped. And…despite how down, how stressed he was, despite the hollowness in this kid's eyes, a look beyond his years…she knew that there was hope. This kid was clinging on to something so desperately…he wasn’t gonna let go anytime soon. 

“Kid…err…Nainsu…that’s…” The woman spoke uncomfortably. She didn’t want to pity him, but she didn’t know what to say.

“It’s rough…I mean, I know it is. But maybe…maybe you should give them a chance?”

No response. The woman sighed. But she wasn’t just going to leave someone here like this. Well, she would, but that's Irutora’s…well, she just can’t. It’s just very awkward. Like…concerningly awkward. 

“Ok, maybe not. Well, I’m glad you said no.”

Well, the woman thinks. If he doesn’t make a decision for himself to fix this shit, maybe someone should force his hand in any direction. Right, the kid needs a little push, or maybe just a distraction. And…she needs some fun. Kageyama looked at the woman quizzically. He wasn’t going to say anything, but the mischievous look in her eyes was…mildly concerning. Kageyama didn’t want more things to worry about. The woman takes out a bag. Makeup. Kageyama sits there, and the woman makes idle chatter he can’t even hear while putting makeup on his face. For a minute, he almost smiles, because he feels like he’s eight again, his sister practicing makeup on him, his grandpa cooking dinner in the next room. He wishes he was eight again. He wishes so fucking bad. Everything was alright back then. No people problems, no lingering loneliness, just him, his volleyball, and his small family. He misses it so fucking bad. He goes completely still. He can’t process anything. His life is falling apart and all he can do is sit back and watch it happen. 

Meanwhile, she had never had such a strange person before her like this. He just mumbled when she introduced herself as Aiko. She asked if he wanted a drink, pulling out a bottle of sake. Usually, she didn’t think promoting underage drinking was a bad idea. But…she didn’t think she’d ever seen someone look like they wanted to be drunk, or just…gone so bad. She would know, her job as a hostess had led her to see similar expressions before. She felt like…like she was looking into the eyes of someone much older. I mean, he sounded young, looked young…but he had clearly been through it. And maybe she should’ve stopped him from chugging the whole bottle, but she didn’t have the heart to force him to be sober when he was clearly so miserable. And he was a great drunk. Sure, he still looked miserable, but a little better. He stopped talking too, like period, and Aiko felt like she was putting makeup on a doll. But she made him look like a cute Rokku gal, because Rokku gal suited his face, even if it was a tad dated. Despite his tired eyes and vacant expression, she thought he had an undeniably pretty face. But…he was clearly a bit stuck in his head. She had tugged his hair to reveal his face for a selfie…he looked drunk pretty, but the lack of any response to a camera flash in a dark room by a drunk person was concerning.

…Kid…kid…

Oh. She was talking to him. He nods. The woman frowns. She says some more words, more words he can’t fucking hear. He feels like he’s trapped.Did he take something? He can’t even tell, and that’s never a good sign. He doesn’t even register he’s crying, makeup running down his face. The woman says something again that he can’t quite place. He says something too. Then he’s walking. He’s walking. He’s stumbling into his apartment, onto the floor. He’s so far removed from life he doesn’t hear the door open and close again. Everything seems dull, gray…lifeless. The world is spinning too fast and too slow. There’s noise. Too much noise. He’s loosing his fucking mind. He tries to grab a volleyball, to try and make this fucking stop, but it just doesn’t. He can’t find it anymore, can’t get off the floor. He’s just…he just can’t. He can’t go on like this, but it feels like his loneliness is never going to end. He pushed it all away, his last chance…it’s over. This isn’t what he wanted. All he ever wanted was to not feel this way, not feel this pain. He wanted a dad, a mom. He just wants his sister, just a call to ask how he’s doing. He wants a friend, maybe someone he can talk to without feeling like he has to lie. He wants his grandpa back. More than anything. But his grandpa is fucking dead and he’s not coming back. He’s never coming back. All he has is a stupid fucking sport and he can’t even put up a decent enough act to keep a hold on it. What was so wrong with him? Would he ever find out, truly find out, what it means to feel alive again? Because as he lies on the floor of his apartment, cold and lonely and exhausted, he knows he feels dead. Like half of a fucking person. There’s city lights outside. People are out there. Life still moves, even as his own seems to still. In the middle of a place, living on the edge of danger. Where life moves too fast and Kageyama dies slowly. He’s left himself to rot. Rotting in a pit of regret and self loathing. 

He wakes up the next morning with a splitting headache. The floor is uncomfortable and there’s blood on his hands and when he looks down he realizes he’s torn up his wrist completely. Fuck. Now he needs to hide again. But that's what the bandaids and napkins are for. To wipe up blood. Fuck, his apartment is a bit trashed. He must’ve had a rough night, because it feels like his head has been dragged over gravel. Just fucking great. At what feels like the most important practice match of his life that he’s already going to struggle with, he’s almost entirely out of it to the point he didn’t realize he had burnt his toast. He gets ready, washing smudged makeup off his face. What even happened…? He realized he’s heading out the door. Oh yeah, volleyball game. He doesn’t want to go, but whatever part of his scattered mind that’s left forces him to face the music. To see if there’s anything left for him. He heads to Karasuno, trudging through the gym door. He doesn’t look anyone in the eyes. He can feel the looks of confusion and hatred. He responds…does he? It’s all just half acknowledged one word responses. Aoba Johsai shows. Ah. More bitter gazes. How fun. Just so fucking great. At some point the match starts. 

He feels alive. He moves across the court, he hits the ball. He blocks, serves…sets. He’s a setter. Right. He doesn’t even speak. He’s just…moving. It’s like instinct. He almost smiles when Hinata pulls off the quick. But he feels eyes on him and he shuts down again. Kindaichi is glaring, Oikawa is staring with an unreadable expression, and who knows about the stares of his teammates. He’s so inept he can’t even look them in the fucking eyes. Someone should just put him out of his misery, and…if he keeps slipping from conscious to completely blurred off misery.

He feels so dead. Like there’s something missing. After he misses a few sets, he swaps out with Sugawara. He never does that willingly, but something is wrong. He feels glares on his back. Probably deserved. It’s like middle school all over again. The game blurs out in front of him. For a second, Kageyama looks into the crowd and sees a familiar face. But it’s just a trick of his imagination probably. Nobody ever shows up for him anymore. Oikawa glares at him between sets. Kageyama almost scoffs. Shouldn’t he be happy Kageyama was failing? Jesus christ, Kageyama was hardly aware and this shit still stung. What a fucking joke. (Maybe if Kageyama was more aware, less far gone, he would’ve seen the concern. His utter lack of self perception left him unknowing of just how bad he looked. His hair fell over his eyes, his eye bags were designer, and he was pale. Honestly, to some of his more perceptive teammates, he looked like he was about to collapse and drop dead.) But he wasn’t self aware right now. It was always either way too aware of himself, or he didn’t even realize he was a real person. Volleyball was always his happy medium. But not now. This might be the worst match of his life after middle school. (Fucking Middle school. He should’ve just quit and died instead of being stubborn. He had almost crawled out of the hole he dug himself into then, almost let go and let himself fall off the roof he liked to stay on that summer. But no, he just had to cling onto something that would constantly slip out of his grasp because he was dumb, his grandfather was dead, he had no friends, and was so emotionally stunted he relied on a sport to be even slightly normal. But now that that wasn’t working, he was seriously lost. And he knew they could tell.)

He’s back in the game at some point. It’s seriously like a drug, something in the back of his mind telling him he has to finish. So he does. They lose the game, and it’s probably his fault. He thinks it is at least. He’s surrounded by people, no, teammates , and he’s still so fucking alone. Goddamnit. He needs to leave. Quit. Just never speak again? Who knows, but he can’t do anything but hide right now. He’s ignoring everything right now. Being rude again, Tobio?

He thinks he hears Hinata try to speak to him, but Kageyama just mumbles something about needing to go. He might’ve yelled. He might’ve tried to run. They might’ve seen the haze in his eyes. He might’ve almost tried to leave forever.

“What the fuck is wrong with you king?”

…Huh…Kageyama had never heard Kunimi yell like that. That was…something…he just kinda stood there…and took it….

“All they’ve tried to do is help you, put up with your shitty attitude, and this is how you fucking act? Grow the fuck up. Just because you lost, just because you can’t stand to be a decent person for once, doesn’t mean you have to treat people just trying to help you like this. Why won’t you say anything! Why won’t you apologize?! WHAT. THE. FUCK. HAPPENED. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt like everyone else, but you wanna know what I think the truth is? I think you were just born an asshole. A selfish, mean, asshole. Because you can’t even be nice, can you? Or have you ever even tried? I don’t speak for your team, but I think this should be your last chance. If you don’t fucking say something, if you don’t even try- just do us all a favor and quit.”

He could feel the eyes on him. Nobody said anything in his defense. Fair. He definitely hadn’t done anything to deserve it. He thinks someone was crying, but it wasn’t him. Because he never cried in front of them. But when Kunimi said “quit,” when the other boy's hand reached out to grab him, something in Kageyama, something deep in his head, snapped. They very idea of being forced to quit, the very idea of losing volleyball, made him shook to his very core. He felt something ugly rear its head in his very soul, years of repressed rage, anger, sadness… His whole body tensed, and he moved without thinking, ducking and catching Kunimi’s hand. He could feel himself twitching, breathing heavily…slipping…his eyes were wide and unblinking, refusing to move, refusing to cry. Kageyama almost did something he would regret even more than the past three weeks, when the smell of a Marlboro KS flooded his senses. He went stiff. There was a hand on his shoulder. Holy fuck. That face…he felt the rings digging into his shoulders, the familiar purr of a modified engine…

“Huh…so that's what's going on huh? Can’t say i’m surprised kid…well. I suppose I can help you clean up your mess just this once…Sometimes I forget you’re only 15…”

Kageyama felt more gripped by panic than he ever had in his fucking life. Irutora…holy fuck Irutora. He was so fucked. The man was forcing him into a position where his secrets weren’t safe. Soon, he would have to make a choice. Tell, or quit.

“Oi. Cut that shit out and get in the car, Nainsu . I’m taking you for the week. No buts. I don’t want you around these children for a week unless you want to have a very, very , uncomfortable talk against your will”

Kageyama hadn’t realized he had been clawing at his wrist hard enough to draw blood till Irutora said that. He just got in the car, trying to level his breathing. He caught Hinata’s eye on the way into the back of the Hachi-Roku. He had never seen the tangerine look so angry before. Kageyama was so, so utterly fucked. He was hyperventilating in the back seat. His hands shook as he clutched at his own flesh. What the fuck had he gotten himself into. What the hell has his life come to? 

“Oh for fucks sake…i’m trying to help you. Cut that shit out kid… Goddamnit, stop making me feel bad…here. Just…take this. It’ll calm you down. We’ll discuss once you’ve sobered up.”

Chapter Text

Hinata didn’t think he had ever been this angry in his life. And that was saying something, because he remembers the first time he met Kageyama. Who, ironically, was the reason for his anger right now. The boy had been so out of it today, which was equal parts maddening and worrying. For a moment, Hinata had almost been scared the boy would quit volleyball. He had never seen someone look so hollow before. He almost wanted to reach out, but…no. The other boy would never let him. What a bitter reminder. When Kunimi started yelling at Kageyama, Hinata hadn’t said anything. He didn’t really want to defend Kageyama when the other boy seemed to need a wake up call. Because Kunimi had said some of what Hinata himself was thinking. Because Kageyama was acting like an asshole and never gave them a reason. The other boy was making it hard to like him on purpose, it seemed. Hinata might never be sure why anyone would ever do that. What the fuck happened indeed. What the fuck had to happen to a person to make them act like that. Like a jaded adult with the temper of an eight year old. Who also is single minded to the point of near insanity. How do you get to a point where you seem afraid of having friends? Hinata wasn’t mad for that reason though. No. The rollercoaster of emotions that led him to fucking rage started with annoyance and despair at Kageyamas attitude, apprehensive when Kunimi yelled, (although he sort of faltered when Kunimi suggested Kageyama quit. Kageyama wouldn’t quit, right? If Kageyama would never change for them, he would at least keep trying for the sport…) and then mildly horrified when he saw what looked to be an instinctive reaction of sorts. Hinata would never forget the look of utter horror and despair that crossed Kageyamas face when he thought about quitting volleyball. At that moment, Hinata finally felt something click. He finally understood the motivation behind Kageyamas behavior. Hell, Hinata finally found the thing that seemed to shape all of Kageyamas decisions. That seemed to shape the boy himself. Volleyball. He acted the way he did because he wanted to stay on the court for the longest. It seemed like an obvious thing, and Hinata understood. Well, Hinata used to think he understood Kageyama. But Kageyama was in much deeper than he realized. Hinata realized he would have to convince Kageyama that he wouldn’t take volleyball away. That being friends with Hinata, with the team, was a good thing. Because wasn’t that the logical thing? To communicate, to bond? How had Kageyama reached a conclusion any different? Hinata needed to figure out why. He wanted to grab Kageyama by the shoulders and just shake him till he understood- 

Then that man appeared. 

That yakuza. 

Hinata saw the fear on Kageyamas face. He saw the utter despair on the boy’s face. He saw how the boy seemed to panic. How the yakuza took Kageyama away. How the man took Kageyama from volleyball. He saw all the possibilities, every horrible scenario of what was possibly going on crossing his mind. No matter what was going one here, or who this was, it was bad. Really bad. He knew that all of Kageyamas issues, with friendships, with volleyball…it was trauma. Kageyama was traumatized. And how had he been treated? Like it was all his fault. How something happened to him in middle school. He wasn’t born a tyrant. Someone had took Kageyama and…damn near ruined him. To a fucking what, 13, 12 year old? He was angry at Kageyama for not talking to him, for not getting the help he needed and harming others because of it. But he was miles more angry at everyone who let Kageyama down. Who let him become this. Who saw a child struggling and lashing out for whatever reason, and made it worse. What the fuck was wrong with the adults in Kageyamas life? Hinata was pissed. He was going to knock some sense into Kageyama, be his friend, find out what happened, and fucking try to be there for him, because clearly, nobody was doing that for Kageyama. Especially not this fucking yakuza. This guy had the audacity to force Kageyama to go with him, forcing him not to play. Then, turn around and tell Hinata and everyone else there that they were partially at fault, partially. Sure, some people were. Oikawa had visibly flinched, Tsukishima looked conflicted, Kindaichi was crying, Kunimi looked guilty…And look. Hinata could admit he hadn’t known what was right, and pushed Kageyama when he should’ve left the boy alone and let him work through his issues without being nosy. Maybe then things wouldn’t be like this. But Hinata knew he wasn’t fully to blame. Even if he felt guilty. Mainly because he was guilty, but also pissed, because while the yakuza unfortunately had a point when he said the had “Been really fucking shitty to him” but, then Hinata realized. Who the fuck was this yakuza to say that shit? Who did he think he was, acting like he wasn’t practically kidnapping Kageyama? Wasn’t he worse? If Hinata didn’t know better than to square up with that big, intimidating man, not even daichi could have held him back from punching the fuck outta that guy. But, the man was clearly a dangerous gangster, and, the part that made Hinatas blood run cold, Kageyama… didn’t even put up a fight. He seemed so miserable, yet… Kageyama went so willingly. The reality that Kageyama would go away with a gangster rather than try and stay with them was…sad. It made Hinata feel like shit. Maybe Kageyama hated him, maybe the other boy would never be his friend, but… now it was different. Now that didn’t matter. Kageyama needed help. Friends or not it didn’t matter, this was his setter. An important part of the team, and even if it didn’t seem like it sometimes, the team cared about him. Hinata just hoped Kageyama would realize that before it was too late. Hell, after they saw that man take Kageyama away, even Tsukishima seemed concerned and upset. Tsukishima. Hell, it wasn’t just Karasuno. Everyone here who knew him was concerned. Even Oikawa, who Hinata was developing a mild dislike for after seeing the way Oikawa acted to Kageyama, was clearly very concerned and upset. They needed to do something. But how? Kageyama wasn’t responding to his phone. Hinata had gone home scared, hoping Kageyama was alive, not dead somewhere. Kageyama had to come back. And when he did, Hinata would be ready. Kunimi had decided to take the initiative to add Oikawa and Iwaizumi to their Kageyama group chat. They would need as many people, the people who knew him best. Maybe with all of them combined, they could piece together his past. To help Kageyama. And fast. Because it feels like they’re running out of time. And Hinata would never accept beating Kageyama because Kageyama was ripped away from volleyball. Away from him.

Kageyama wasn’t sure how he got here. How this had happened. He had tried so hard, been as careful as he could, but it wasn’t enough. It never was. He spiraled. Again.The car shifted, his head knocked into the inside of the backseat door. He didn’t really register it. He doesn’t really register much of anything right now. He feels numb, and the world is crashing down on him, a tight, tight ache in his chest, clawing at him, refusing to get out. He was stuck in this horrid limbo between a full fledged panic attack and the hazy, unnatural sensation of whatever he took from Irutora. He felt really fucking sick. He didn’t even blame Irutora. That was the logical thing to do, blame the man. He drove recklessly, gave a panicked boy of barely 16 an edible or something, and Irutora was the one who threw all his secrets out in the open for the people he needed to find out the least to see. Yet, Kageyama wasn’t able to blame him, because these were his secrets. These holes he dug himself. Now he’s drowning in it and it’s his own fault. Life dealt him a shitty hand, but he’s almost 16 for fucks sake. He should’ve learned to fucking deal with it by now. But he hadn’t, and this is the consequence. He’s fucking shaking. He’s clawing and clawing at his skin like he’s trying to escape. God, did Irutora fuck up and give him a perc? He doesn’t know. There’s a song playing loud as hell in the background, Irutora is saying some shit, the car is swerving like a bitch- things couldn’t possibly be any worse. There’s loud noise, oh fuck that’s not the right turn. Where is he going? What the fuck is going on!? He’s going to be sick. His phone is ringing. It won’t stop fucking ringing. The group chat is spamming notification after notification. It’s so loud, it’s so fucking loud. They know. Oh god they all know. They all know and they’re all looking for him- they’re going to get him. He’s not safe. He’s not safe anywhere, with anyone- if his phone dings one more time- 

He throws his phone out the car window. Was the window even open? He’s not sure. All he knows is that it’s not safe here, and the constant reminder that he fucked up got to him. Bad. 

 Irutora is yelling. Kageyama is scared, and he’s sick, and he’s not thinking clearly. He tries to find a volleyball to hold onto, but all he finds to grip onto are his wrists. Kageyama never injures his hands. For volleyball. But he’s lost, and time isn’t working right. It’s like he can feel volleyball slipping away and he’s gripping his arms. His hands. Ripping and tearing at his flesh like it’s the end and he’s desperately gripping on to anything he can. That’s what he’s been doing in a way. But he feels like he’s been ripped away from it all and now he’s falling with nobody to catch him. Because he has no friends, no family. He’s 16, swerving through Miyagi. He’s in the middle of two worlds colliding, and he’s just collateral damage under the weight of his secrets. He’s actually crashing out. There’s screaming and swerving and too much noise. He feels hands gripping him, and he’s trying to get out, to run- but he’s falling and crumbling. He doesn’t know how he gets into his apartment, but being back at that place doesn’t help. He steps back into a reminder of the void of genuine love and affection in his life. It’s cold and dark and miserable. Kageyama is on the living room floor. He thinks he is. There’s blood, more noise. He doesn’t even realize where the sobs are coming from. He’s drowning in his guilt, in his circumstances. He doesn’t know if he can come back from this. He might be speaking. Maybe. Maybe not? He might be blacking out. His head is spinning fast and slow, and he might’ve tried to move. He hits something, and he’s pretty sure the choked wail wasn’t his own, but… no. He’s alone, but he’s not alone. He’s surrounded by memories and screaming and crying- why won’t it stop? Shut up shut up shut up- 

The crashing can be heard down the hallway, along with the sickening cries of someone who sunk too low and lost everything. The scene upon walking into that tiny, lonely apartment is just… sad. You would think a tornado had come through. Perhaps,  a tornado of grief. And in the eye of the storm, among everything scattered on the floor, the broken glass- what the fuck did he even break? There’s blood on the floor and on a shaking form in the corner who looks worse than you’ve ever seen them. And you’ve seen him at his lowest. You’ve watched him struggle and fight and cry when he thinks you aren’t watching. You watched this kid say things no kid should say. You heard him stumble through your hallway after running for hours because he never could stop once he got going, could he? You watched him lash out, hell, even at you, because he had so much grief and anger lingering inside him that he just couldn’t express. You were there when his childhood went up in flames. You knew that maybe you could’ve helped more. Because he needed help then. But never would you regret leaving him alone as much as you would now. Because you had never seen him worse. 

He always took such good care of his hands. Refusing to throw punches when he thought it might bust his hands open. He never hurt his hands, and took such good care. Too good, you had always told him to loosen up, live a little. Maybe made fun of it before. Despite his reasons being anything but, it was a little silly, how he made a travel nail care kit. Not even those damn ganguro with their three inch deco-claws did that back in the day. But he always took care of his hands. For volleyball. For his passion, his addiction, and now, his undoing. Or, the catalyst for his undoing. His real undoing had always been other people. He never did learn how to properly be a person, did he? At the end of the day, he was merely a victim of circumstance with no social skills. But he was also a boy who deeply cared about others he cared about. He always wanted to do better, and he wanted you to be better too. He didn’t whine about his struggles, he worked and he worked to overcome them, even with varying success. And he always took care of his hands.

Maybe you shouldn’t have called it so silly. Because when you saw his hands now, it made you realize just how bad things really are. His hands never shook, always steady and sure, are quivering like the rest of him. And his perfect, meticulously maintained hands are covered in blood. His knuckles are ripped to shreds, his wrists torn open and ravaged. If you weren’t so cold, you might’ve cried. But perhaps you’ve gone soft for this little shit who you took in. Because you felt bad. Because maybe he would’ve had a chance, if not for you. Curled in the corner, his face stained with tears. His eyes were blank. He was rambling now, saying things about himself. Things you knew hurt. The way he sounded so sure… that everyone was right about him. You’re starting to realize nobody has said anything nice about him in a long time. You certainly hadn’t. Maybe if you had… he… he wouldn’t be so far gone. Hopefully he can stay strong enough so it’s not too late. Or maybe… maybe he shouldn’t have to be so strong for a while. Lord knows carrying his whole world alone wasn’t healthy. He wasn’t healthy. He isn’t who he was supposed to be anymore. But who is he supposed to be? An athlete? A setter? A gangster? Or maybe he’s just a boy. He doesn’t know who he’s supposed to be, even if you know he knows who he wants to be. At least that’s a start. So you start moving towards him, because you couldn’t stand to see him do something stupid to himself. 

Kageyama didn’t know anyone. This… this was never what he wanted. He was… he was scared. At that moment, he felt just like his father. He was aware he was sobbing now. He felt… sick. He thought about everything, his actions. Kunimi was right. They all were. 

A fucking waste of talent

Genius king

Born an asshole

Born fucked

Selfish

Only a kid

Just quit

Quit

Quit

He feels a strong arm wrap around his shoulders, albeit hesitantly. It’s familiar, whoever it is. Someone is telling him to stop saying that. Was he talking? There’s a rough, calloused hand rubbing his arms soothingly. His wrists and hands did sting… hopefully his hands are okay. He needs those. He feels oddly shaky, like he’s coming down from… something. It’s like someone is trying to secure him to life, secure him to something. Like Kazuyo San when he wanted to quit volleyball at four years old after scraping his knee really bad because of it. Kazuyo had told him that things would be hard, and that sometimes we get hurt doing the things we love, but part of life is getting hurt. He hadn’t really remembered that until now. It’s funny, how his grandfather always seemed to know best. That even now, he was still right. Kageyama just needed to ask him. He just needed to know- 

He leaned into the touch after a moment. Safe. There had to be something his grandfather could say to make this better. He looks up, his eyes finally dry, his voice shaking. 

“Kazuyo-san, I-”

Irutoras solem face looks back down at him. Right. Right. Kazuyo san- 

He’s known this whole time, it’s been almost two years… so why- why now? Why now, when he needs the man most, does it really hit him that Kazuyo san is gone. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Irutora. But it’s hard not to, as he realizes his grandfather is just nostalgia now. That there isn’t any advice. That time ran out a long time ago. That… he might have to go through this on his own. But… damnit. Something he hasn’t been able to admit to himself for almost two years comes to the forefront of his brain, and fuck- He really just needs someone.  He has no friends, no family, he’s 15 in the middle of Miyagi and if there’s actually nobody there… 

He can’t do it. If he truly has nobody… volleyball on its own was never enough. Not if things are this bad. If there truly is nobody beside him, nobody trying to catch up to him, trying to keep him, if his someone better truly doesn’t exist… then he can’t go on. Something needs to change. And as he sobs into the arms of someone who isn’t a stranger anymore, he knows it needs to be soon. But for now, he’ll take any comfort he can get as he grips onto Irutora. Despite the man’s many questionable choices, he really is all Kageyama has. So he won’t question the man’s kindness for now. He’ll just let himself sob and hope it fixes whatever piece of him that’s irreparably damaged. 

Chapter Text

Irutora has had a rough fucking day. Or maybe a few rough years. Hell maybe his life was just rough, and that’s what made him the rough ass person he is today. Everything was rough, and so was he. He always had been. People say he’s heartless. The monster mobster of Miyagi. Whatever. Irutora thinks he might be heartless, people tell him that so much. Hell, maybe he wishes he was heartless. It would make his line of work a fuck of a lot easier. But moments like these, he knew he wasn’t heartless. Moments like these as he held the frail, wailing nuisance of a teenager against his chest and let him cry his heart out, because talk about having a rough fucking day, a rough few years, a rough life. But Nainsu, Tobio, that little shit, wasn’t rough like him. Not yet. Maybe rough around the edges, but not to the core. And Irutora hates that he doesn't have the heart to put the kid out of his damn misery and let the softness in his heart spoil and rot. But, he just couldn’t. He wished he could crush the dreams of this little idiot and have the naturally athletic, no questions asked, experienced little shit to just work for him. That kid, not easy to crack but still manipulatable… fuck. He would be the perfect heir for a criminal empire, wouldn’t he? But, he can’t bring himself to do so. Wholesome? Probably not. Irutora is a selfish man, who thinks selfish thoughts. He’s so selfish, that hearing those volleyball playing children that make Nainsu suffer say that Tobio Kageyama was selfish made him want to laugh. Not that the kid can’t be selfish. He’s seen how that brat gets sometimes. But he is nowhere near as selfish as Irutora. Because the only reason Irutora is so nice to the little brat that’s somehow become his… ward? Honorary nephew? Eh. Irutora just calls the scrawny fucker Nainsu. Nicknames and relations aside, Irutora isn’t really helping him out of kindness. Maybe some would call it kindness. But the real reason is that he’s already messed up the kids' life in ways Nainsu doesn’t even know. And deep in the remnants of his selfish heart, he can’t bear to be the one to take away that kids only light left in this bleak life defined by dirty back alleys and cigarette smoke. And well, maybe he did take the kid away from it, but it’s for a good reason. It’s sink or swim for Tobio now, and he can only hope the kid will be at all rational once he sobers up. Maybe giving a child drugs is a shitty thing to do. But he actually couldn’t care less. In a life like this, the quicker you can justify all the shitty things you do in your own head, the better. Leave him alone. He would wait to explain what he was doing to the kid later, tomorrow, when the kid wakes up and his new star hostess who seems to be rather fond of Nainsu, that gal Aiko. She was smarter than she acted, that's for sure. She played a pivotal role in coming up with this. Most of them were like that. Smart girls who acted wild and stupid… Irutora knows to take them seriously now. The kid hand finally passed out, and Irutora lifted the scrawny thing, carrying him through the small apartment and placing him on the bed. He looked down at the kid, a far away, nostalgic… and almost vulnerable look crossed Irutoras face. It was a rare thing, saved for times like these when time just seemed to pause around you, when city noise and neon lights fade into the background of your senses, and the universe seems to align itself at one single point around you. “Tobio…” The large man thought to himself, “Damn brat looks just like his dad when he’s like this…” That’s where the connection between Irutora and Kageyama begins. 

1993. Kokobuncho, Sendai, Miyagi Prefecture, Japan. Sometime in October, it was cold. That’s how Irutora remembers the time of year. Back in the early 1990’s things weren’t looking great. It was going on the third year in a row of the economy being… poor. Not amazing. Looking back, there’s a reason why they were called the lost decades, only just starting to get out of it now, in the 2010’s. Irutora was a fresh highschool dropout, joining many others his age dejected by financial strife on the streets. However, Irutora was nothing if not an opportunist. Known in the streets as brutal and cunning for the violence and brutality he exhibited back in his days as a member of a high school biker gang, he already had a name for himself. It would be easy to just take the path laid out, become a low level yakuza henchman until he was just another name lost to street violence. But Irutora wanted more. He wanted power. Money. And he had arrived at a perfect time. The most common illegal drug to profit off of at the time was Methamphetamines, but that market was already full. No. He needed to have a monopoly, something he could have a head start, a profit, in selling. And he had it. A new drug, first hitting the Japanese market in Tokyo, all the way from the Americas. Cocaine. A white, powdery substance. A new, profitable commodity. And so, Irutora got in on it. He would become the first major cocaine dealer in Miyagi, and one of his first customers would be a man. He had spent time in America, at the epicenter of the world of crack cocaine. His name was Kiyoshi Kageyama. A bit older than Irutora. He would become a regular over the next year, and soon, as Irutora gained money and influence, a rare, true friend. And that was saying something, especially for a ruthless man like Irutora, who might sell to junkies, but wasn’t fond of them. He was smart enough to stay off of the shit he was selling. It’s much easier to gain an upper hand in deals of any sort when you're the only sober one there. But Kiyoshi was… different. He stayed a loyal buyer, no matter if there was cheaper coke, and he would talk frequently about his life, high as hell riding around in Irutoras car as they lived their lives in the rat race of Miyagi’s seediest area. They bonded over the carefree danger they both thrived in, drinking under abandoned bridges to the soundtrack of Snoop Dogg's Doggystyle album. Kioyshi was… fun, in an odd way. Disillusioned and jaded, with a thirst for a thrill, anything to make him feel that rush. He was erratic, and unpredictable, but a good friend. Sure, the man was addicted to sex and booze and cocaine, but he was also right there with Irutora, bargaining with other cokeheads, promoting business, and taking the cops on wild street chases with the up and coming yakuza. They matched each other shot for shot, quip for quip, wild night for wild night. Irutora was the up and coming gangster, and Kiyoshi as his greatest ally, getting him customers and charming women and men alike with his daredevil nature. However, the tipping point for their friendship was the year 1996. The year that changed Kiyoshi’s life, and later Irutoras. Irutora had laughed at first, when Kiyoshi admitted to getting his brother's wife pregnant, what an asshole. But… as the man spent more time sniffing more and more lines, Irutora began to realize how serious it was. For the first time, he became worried for Kiyoshi, because he had never seen the man quite so hung up, so regretful. The man never seemed to have regrets, something they both promised eachother one night. “Ride or dies”, Kiyoshi had said. As long as they were the two biggest assholes anyone had ever met, and as long as they were still in business, nothing could part them. Not even the unexpected burdens of life. Until one day, Kiyoshi started showing up less. Irutora didn’t notice at first, having bought his first nightclub, and trying to get into prostitution, except… yeah, that wasn’t going so hot. As it turns out, a lot of the gyaru, once party girls who were, well, adults, had transitioned into girls kicked out of their homes for their lifestyle and left on the street, turning to prostitution to make money, and yeah, he was willing to be a pimp, he was willing to sell cocaine to the masses, corrupt the government, and had killed a man or two at this point, whatever flimsy morals he had were sound enough not to pimp out literal teenage girls, unlike a lot of his… colleagues. However, once things were steady again, he began to miss the wild presence he had become so accustomed to. Upon reaching out to the man, he found out that apparently, the fucker was trying to get sober. Kiyoshi. The very man who did seven lines in one night, fucked three people, and passed out in his bathtub, that Kiyoshi. And all for some little brat. I mean, there was a valid reason. The kid's mom wouldn’t take care of him, leaving him with Kiyoshi’s father, a perfectly respectable man named Kazuyo who, as far as Irutora knew, was a good man, older, and perfectly stable and capable of taking care of some walking turd who was apparently named Tobio. What kind of fuck ass name was that? If you sounded it out, it sounded like a flying fish. Dumb as hell. And I mean sure, the kid probably deserved a father figure and all that, but really, he already had one in the form of Kazuyo. Irutora isn’t at all sure how a man like that raised Kiyoshi, who was the opposite of stable and capable. And the opposite of a good father, except for the fact that fucker was trying to show up for his kid, knowing damn well the only thing he ever showed up for were his vices. Irutora was a selfish man, and it felt like, god forbid he call Kiyoshi that, but, it felt like he was losing his best friend. But instead of saying that, he made a decision, which, looking back on it, would seriously ruin some lives. But he was in his mid 20’s and he was greedy and selfish, and he only cared to have his best friend by his side, not caring who it might damage in the process. So he does what he knows. Gives the man free cocaine, makes it harder and harder to quit. If Kiyoshi knows what he’s doing, it doesn’t matter. A brat he didn’t even want didn’t compare to the appeal of the thrill. And so, Irutora got his friend back… even if the man was even dumber than before. Irutora had met Tobio because of this, because seriously? I don’t care if you want the kid to have a father, even if his mother is a raging bitch… ok, maybe she just fucked up her life with that kid, but how are you somehow the worse parent when the kids father is like… that. But it still didn’t excuse the fact that that idiot Kiyoshi brought the kid to a few parties in an effort to “prove he could be a responsible father because the kid's grandpa is getting older”. Responsible my foot. Kiyoshi was not responsible, and Irutora kept leaving the kid on top of the fridge with a volleyball to keep him entertained. Weird ass kid was obsessed with it, apparently. Creeped Irutora out, I mean, little fucker was like six at that point, but the addiction gene ran strong in that one. It just manifested a little… different. Or maybe the little shit was a little autistic. Something in his eyes… whatever. Irutora just didn’t want the snot nosed idiot anywhere near his business, both for the kids sake and his sanity. Actually, Irutora couldn’t care less about the kid. It was all for his sanity. Eventually, Kazuyo must’ve put a stop to it, because Kiyoshi was sentenced to rehab that did nothing and effectively just cut him off from the kid. Fine by Irutora. And then, life was good again, his best friend by his side, his criminal empire now thriving, the economy on a slight uptick. He knew that his enabling had led Kiyoshi off the deep end again, sent him right back to how he was in 1996, a mess of guilt and the picture of an addict, but all Irutora cared for was the fun they could have together when they both got lost in the thrill, when life had no burdens. They were still invincible, together. Then 2005 rolled around, and then came a day Irutora would regret for the rest of his life, even if he never says it. He doesn’t speak about that day. The law came knocking eventually, and Kiyoshi, that stupid, loyal, coked up idiot took the fall for him. Irutora will never forget sitting in handcuffs, unable to do anything when the cops said he was free to go, all the evidence pinned on his now dead best friend. Overdose. Took as much as he could, went driving with the supply that the cops found. Went out doing what used to be a game they played together. The moment they took Irutora out of those handcuffs, the moment he saw Kioshi’s dead body, he was first filled with an inexplicable sense of denial, like Kiyoshi was just playing another game. When he went out that night, he forgot about sobriety, he forgot about what killed Kiyoshi. That night, full of cocaine and blind rage, Irutora did a lot of things he wasn’t proud of. Because his best friend was dead, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to change what he fucked up, there was no way to take back his selfishness and have Kiyoshi by his side. Because looking back, he was worth so much more than the thrills they shared.The world kept spinning, his criminal empire pulled through. But this was the first time Irutora had to take a step back and reckon with the fact that his greed, his selfishness, his lifestyle, had taken someone close to him. Irutora was the only one at the funeral. Staring down at that grave had only made him colder still. He would never admit it, but something in his chest twisted a little, and if a tear fell, nobody ever saw. It may be the first and only time he’s felt his heart break a little. He felt as if he had killed his best friend, and perhaps, he had. Reading that will only made it harder. They must’ve forced him to write it when he was sober, in rehab. Irutora mostly hung around Kiyoshi when he wasn’t sober. Just because Kiyoshi wasn’t sober most of the time. But… the person he knew off of the drugs, the Kiyoshi Kageyama that had shown him the depths of humanity even what he considered to be a lost cause, shined through on that stupid end of life document. Everything, the little he had, was left to Irutora… but not just for him. For Tobio too. It was both maddening and heartbreaking.  Leaving behind his best act as a father for when he was long gone. Telling Irutora to look after the kid for him, should Kazuyo die and his mother abandon Tobio. Even in death, Kiyoshi was always asking one more favor. Irutora didn’t want to. He wanted to blame the kid, even, because maybe if not for him, Kiyoshi would still be alive. But that was stupid, convoluted thinking. It’s not what Kiyoshi would want, because even if he wasn’t there for his son, the man never blamed that little boy for anything, even if it was just a dig on his whore of a mother who blamed the kid for everything. Irutora kept Kiyoshi’s will, locked away in the depths of his mind as the next years went by. He only became more ruthless, more cold. Gone were the days of thrill and late night chases, and he would rise further than ever before, even if nothing felt quite right anymore. He didn’t think about the kid. Not until the will came into play. Not until Kiyoshi must’ve had a rare moment of genius, and Irutora had to take care of Tobio. Tobio, who he wanted nothing to do with, who he still held shreds of resentment for, despite Kiyoshi. It wasn’t until he laid eyes on that hollow eyed kid at the funeral for the first time in six years. He saw that vacant expression of hopelessness that he saw so often, except this time, it was different. Because he saw Kiyoshi’s face. It was almost ironic, how much the kid had grown into his fathers miserable, yet beautiful features. That sort of melancholic beauty must run in the family, reflected in pretty blue eyes. So despite his reputation, despite himself, he took on the task of… “caring for” the angsty little shit. Yet, despite the struggles that depressed little dickhead presented with his temper tantrums, his complete social ineptitude, and overflowing grief, the little shit endeared himself to Irutora. Even if he will absolutely never admit it. Perhaps it was because of how similar he was to Kiyoshi, in some ways. Stubborn, assholeish, good looking and not afraid to use it if he had to. The way the kids' eyes would light up at the prospect of the thrill, how he dedicated so much time to his addiction. For Kiyoshi, it was car rides and cocaine. For Tobio, it was volleyball. Yet, he wasn’t Kiyoshi, something Irutora would often forget when the kid made a curtain face, or spoke a certain way, and suddenly, he saw a glimpse of what he had lost. But Tobio wasn’t Kiyoshi. That’s why he had taken to calling him “Nainsu”. Kageyama would always be Kiyoshi, and he thought Tobio was a dumbass name. So, after the jersey number, he was “Nines” or, “Nainsu”, because the English was cooler. And Nainsu wasn’t like Kiyoshi yet. He still held a shred of innocence, of hope. The kid wasn’t a lost cause, not yet. And perhaps Irutora couldn’t save Kiyoshi from himself. Perhaps his selfish heart would forever desire the idea of a man who wasn’t meant to be, and perhaps he couldn’t let go, he couldn’t reckon with what he did. But in Nainsu, he felt as if he could pay back the debt he owed to Kiyoshi, perhaps through Nainsu he could fill some hole he had where his heart should be. He could let Nainsu go, he could let him play, help him thrive, he could save him from the same fate Kiyoshi had. He had his chance to fix this, to do something right. He had a chance to be the father Kiyoshi wanted to be. He could give back what he stole, both from Kiyoshi and Nainsu. He could make himself finally feel better, finally move on. Partially. He doesn’t know if he can ever fully move on from Kiyoshi, but seeing the kid as the volleyball star he could be, with the friends and teammates he could have, it might ease that feeling of loss, just a little. So maybe he would always be selfish, maybe he would never be gentle, and maybe he would never be nice. But he would always have his debts paid. So he would watch over the sleeping boy, and he would make sure everything would turn out… not that fucked up. He was only human, after all, and that little shit wasn’t easy to help, just like Kiyoshi. But this time, he would try. Finishing his cigarette, the smoke rolling over him and Kageyama, he whispered, 

“Goodnight Nainsu. I don’t know about you, or your grandfather, but I know damn well Kiyoshi would be proud of you.” 

Now, all he had to do was wait for Aiko, wait for tomorrow, so he could get back to planning, and scheming, and cleaning up after the mess of his… no, Kiyoshi’s son.

Chapter Text

Kageyama woke up feeling sick. Not hungover, not with a splitting headache. He didn’t feel nauseous, he didn’t feel like his brain had been shot out of his skull. But he felt sick. His eyes felt heavier than normal, his body felt sluggish and weak. He felt disgusting, like he wanted to rip up his skin and tear the misery from the inside out till he was nothing more than a shell of who he used to be. A sense of hatred for himself and all the space he occupied tore through his veins, making him want to scream and cry. But he doesn’t. Based on his vague memory of the other day, he spent quite a bit of time in complete hysteria, and he couldn’t be so selfish as to cry twice in a row. Fuck. It was like everything was falling down all at once, and he felt more sickeningly self aware of all his shortcomings than he had in years. He should’ve known things were going too smoothly a long time ago. That Karasuno was merely a happy illusion that he would shatter with the weight of his past and his grief at some point. It was merely wishful thinking on his part to think his life was worth anything more than a tragedy. He can’t possibly go back now, but he can’t possibly give up volleyball either. He was forced into a position where he can’t possibly do anything for himself without risking everything. In order to keep his team, to keep playing, to stay on the court for the longest, to just fucking make it out- 

He would have to risk everything.

He would have to risk his relationships with everyone around him, he would have to risk his spot on the team, he would have to risk his past, present and the future. It wasn’t fair, but then, when was any of it fair? He knows what Kindaichi and Kunimi would say. They would say it was fair, that he could’ve at least tried to fix himself. That he could’ve just been a little nicer, a little more willing to work on things, if only he wasn’t so selfish, so stubborn, he wouldn’t be in this place. His senpai would be disappointed. It didn’t matter what talent he displayed, what skills he had. It didn’t matter how much he could offer the team as a player if he just couldn’t be a team player. Tsukishima would probably mock him. Tell him he was stupid, that he couldn’t fix anything, because he was just the king, nothing more. Tsukishima would just tell him that it’s just who he is. As if he was nothing but wicked. He doesn’t know if it’s more comforting to think it’s just his nature to lash out, or if it was something he could fix, that he could change. Oikawa… Oikawa. Oikawa would gloat. How he was a waste of his natural talent. That he was always chasing his shadow, that no matter how he might try, he would always miss what it really meant to play as a team. But maybe, a small part of him would hope that it could change Oikawas mind. Prove that he really did work hard, to fight through what he had to go through and still play, still try. He really did try, even if it didn’t seem like it. Even if it seemed like all his skill was natural and he couldn’t care less about his shortcomings. He wondered how it seemed to Hinata. He doesn’t know what Hinata would say. Hinata who was everything Kageyama wasn’t. Pleasant, a team player. A mom who loved him, a sister who would always talk to him. Naturally athletic, but lacking in a lot of volleyball skills. But he seemed to get better. Kageyama’s temperament, his surroundings, and the lack of any love or joy he could suck from his life seemed to make it impossible to get better. Not without seemingly risking everything. He didn't like to think about it, but these days it was all he could think about, because it was everything happening all at once and he didn’t even know what was going on in his own fucking life anymore. Especially not after Irutora got involved. That really threw him for a loop. Irutora had stepped in. He hadn’t been that bad since the summer between middle school and highschool, but… apparently he was that bad now. Maybe even worse. Bad enough that Irutora did what he did. He didn’t even know what Irutora was doing or what he wanted. He would hope Irutora didn’t just get fed up with him and rip him away from volleyball once and for all, but Kageyama doesn’t know. He wants to think that Irutora has a plan. But Kageyama could never tell whether or not Irutora cared for him. The man wasn’t affectionate, and treated Kageyama like an uncle stuck with babysitting duty. Which in some way, he was. But sometimes… Irutora’s cold demeanor would slip. Memories of the night before made Kageyama pause. He doesn’t remember much. He remembers calling his grandfather. He feels stupid for it now, but even in his waking sober hours, there will still be a part of himself Tobio feels will always be sad when Kazuyo doesn’t pick up. Of course he doesn’t. But someone answered. He remembers strong arms holding him down, prying his hands away from his wrists, staying with him till he fell asleep. Wait. His wrists. Kageyama looked down, hanging his head in horror. His wrists and hands, usually so well maintained, were scratched like he was in a vicious mauling. His wrists were torn deep, dried blood caking his fingers. His knuckles were torn so badly he swore he saw bone. A choked noise left his lips, and he was dry heaving all of a sudden, the urge to throw up consuming him completely, his head feeling like a weight on his shoulders he wished he could throw off. After stumbling to the bathroom, he didn’t end up throwing up. He just ended up on the floor, feeling like he wasn’t real. Like this couldn’t possibly be his life. He had to have something left. Something intact, something he could rely on. He’d even turned his bottomless anger and grief on his own hands, and it seemed that nothing, not even volleyball, could fill the endless, gaping void in his chest. He’s in pain. And he’s alone again, because of course Irutora has better things to do- 

He feels a hand on his shoulder. 

It smells like- 

Marlboro KS.

Irutora 

Kiyoshi 

…Dad…

If he could cry right now, Tobio thinks he might’ve started to, but he just sniffled, a silent gesture. Neither he nor Irutora were much for big emotional displays, and god knows they’d had enough of those recently. His shaking hands found Irutora’s large, muscular hands, pulling him up. The man wasn’t one for hugs, and neither was Tobio. The hand on his shoulder was enough. They had a silent understanding as Irutora helped Kageyama take care of his hands once more, going over familiar-unfamiliar motions, bandaging and cleaning. Kageyama didn’t wince at the burn of the alcohol as it hit his skin, and Irutora didn’t expect him to. He was led into his… somewhat not that destructed but poorly organized living room. He would figure it out later, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to school anytime soon. He was skeptical, even if he hated school, that he was fine with that. As much as his life there was a disaster and god knows what his teammates think of him now… He isn’t entirely sure he could keep away from volleyball. That sport was more important to him than his own life at this point. Without volleyball… Kageyama wasn’t sure what he was. But, he has no choice. One week. Irutora was taking a week, and Kageyama knew that at least it wasn’t a month. It wasn’t his call, not unless he pulled something insane. And that… well he doesn’t want to think about it. As much as he can already feel an aching emptiness in his bones, he knows he only has so many options. His thoughts are interrupted when he realizes Irutora is looking at him annoyed.

  “Look you little shit. I’ve been trying to ask you if you want some rice for the past five fucking minutes.” 

Kageyama paused briefly. The harshness in Irutora’s voice wasn’t unusual, but the care in the offer shone through. However…

“...I’m not hungry.”

His voice was quiet. Raspy. Irutora rolled his eyes, but the exasperated huff told Kageyama he wasn’t all that surprised. Irutora just disappeared into the corner of his kitchen. He came out with a mug of.. Tea? It smelled vaguely of alcohol. Well, Kageyama did know that a hot tea with a bit of warm sake in it was Irutora’s cure for just about everything. He was ushered outside. Irutora lit up a cigarette, and handed it to him. Before Kageyama knew what he was doing, he was taking a hit. He coughed slightly, having not smoked in a while, before passing it back. He knew it was a bad idea, always protect your lungs for volleyball Tobio. But… he had a week, and the nicotine filled the emptiness, if only a little bit. They sat out there in silence for a while, passing the cigarette back and forth. It was moments like these that Kageyama took the time to think about the monster of a man beside him. He wondered if this is what Irutora used to do for his father after one of his benders that he knew damn well happened often back in the day. Kageyama didn’t know much about Irutora’s relationship with his father. All he knew was that they were friends- well. He knew a bit more than that, but any information he got about their relationship beyond that never came from Irutora. Whispers of the duo still echoed in corners of Miyagi, even years after his fathers death. He heard that they were some damn menaces, and that side by side, they were damn near unstoppable. He knew Irutora wasn’t as unaffected by his fathers death as he liked to appear. On the rare occasions he’s seen Irutora intoxicated, the man always takes a moment whenever he looks at Kageyama. As if he was looking at someone else, if only for a moment. Kageyama isn’t sure he likes the implication he’s just like his father, but as he gets passed the last drag of the cigarette, he thinks Irutora might be onto something, as unfortunate as it may seem. But… even though he’s never going to tell Kageyama the full story, Kageyama isn’t all that brickheaded. He can connect the dots, despite what some people might think. He wonders if Irutora actually does care to help him in whatever way the man couldn’t bring himself to help his father. If maybe, they're both the only remnants of something they both lost. He wonders if a man like Irutora actually feels as if they have a bond, if they could consider each other… family. A part of him, deep down, knows. They sit in silences filled with unspoken words and lingering memories long after the smoke clears and the clock ticks forward. 

“You know you have a choice to make, kid. I’ve given you a week.”

“...What about-”

“It’s a week, you’ll fucking live. It’s not crack, and if your dopamine drops too low just take a fucking edible or something and get over it.”

“Well, excuse me asshat. You do realize that my teammates are-”

“Concerned you little bastard. That hyperactive baby carrot looked about ready to fight me. It was fucking funny. You’re lucky I don’t believe in talking to mythical creatures.”

“Pfft- are you calling him a fucking leprechaun? That’s actually kinda funny. I’m gonna start calling him that.”

Kageyama laughed, momentarily forgetting the troubles he was in. Irutora could be pretty funny, even if it was usually unintentional. It felt weird to laugh. He hadn’t laughed since-

“So… you plan on going back and figuring out how to explain yourself then? Good. Because the faster you clear the air with them, the less you have to worry about them calling CPS.”

“Wait what, are you saying-”

Kageyama froze. Oh fuck. There was a chance his teammates would try and take matters into their own hands. Especially that idiot Hinata. Fuck. Irutora rolled his eyes, and if Kageyama was any dumber, he would have slapped him. But he wasn’t that brain damaged. Irutora could easily pick him up and throw him two stories into the dumpster if he felt like it. SO, he settled for glaring and pouting.

“Shut the fuck up-”

“I didn’t say anything you fucking prick.”

“Asshole. Fix your face. Do you really think I would jeopardize my whole operation over some volleyball playing brats? I know you care about your friends opinions-”

“They aren’t my friends. They don’t like me.”

Kageyama cringed at how sad his voice seemed to be. He wasn’t one for pity parties. He knew that most of the reasons they didn’t like him were entirely his fault. He was hard to talk to about anything other than volleyball, he swore too much, didn’t understand how normal people his age even worked, and he had a host of other qualities that made him a terrible person to be friends with.

“Bullshit. They care about you, numbnuts. Even if you’re a broody mess with abandonment issues and no parents. Instead of Nainsu, I should nickname you fucking Batman.”

“Hey-!”

“Stop interrupting me you little shit. I’m surprised they give a flying fuck about you, don’t get me wrong, but for some reason they do. So instead of being a hardass about it, take a fucking week to figure your shit out, for everyone’s sake, and for my peace of mind, because I don’t need another Kageyama causing me a copious amount of stress, angst, and property damage. Look kid…”

Irutora sighed, his hand rubbing his temples in exasperation.

“Nobody wants you to be miserable anymore. You’re miserable because as much as you claim to not need any, you do need friends. Well, at least you want to be friends with your teammates. I know shits been rough for you, because your life is just a disaster, but c'mon. You need friends that share your interests and hobbies. So figure it the fuck out. And you don’t have to say anything. We both know that I’m right and you’re an idiot. Learn how to be a… functioning human being and not some cliche plot written by a teenager with anger issues and a bad addiction gene.” 

There was a nine months pregnant pause between them. Kageyama didn’t say anything. He wasn’t going to admit shit. That was between him and his late night thoughts. 

“... I don’t cause that much property damage… dickhead.”

“Tsk. Well look. As much as I would love to help you, I have businesses to run, people to scam, and crimes to commit.”

Irutora said dismissively, checking his watch. Kageyama rolled his eyes. Figures. Well, at least he would have time to-

“But don’t think this means I’m leaving you alone to get up to whatever tomfoolery you want. I’m leaving you with Aiko.”

Kageyama was going to retort, but the man was already walking out the door, shutting and locking the door before Kageyama could even protest. Why the fuck would Aiko even agree to- Oh. That fucker. Irutora was just killing two birds with one stone, because that woman was a handful. Kageyama had a feeling that between nerves for the impending future, no volleyball, and running around with an escort or hostess or… whatever the fuck she did, that this week was going to make him loose his fucking mind. He could only hope that there would be enough chaos to keep his mind off of it. Well… maybe he should be careful what he wishes for, because he’s so far in over his head in all aspects of his life that too much chaos might actually be the death of him. Well, maybe then he wouldn’t have to worry about his entirely dysfunctional, single minded existence. What a weight of his shoulders that would be. He sighs deeply as he hears banging on the door and a high pitched, sing songy voice telling him to open the door. 

He definitely needed to work on some shit. Because at this rate, he thinks it might be a miracle if he pulls through the week. Hey, at least it’s good character development? 

…

…

…Gosh, yeah, no. He shouldn’t try looking at the bright side of anything just yet. He was a socially inept mess of anger, passion, and teenaged mess with a side of addict tendencies that could only come from a crack baby. He hasn’t looked on the bright side in years, so why start now? If things were really that bad, he’s probably more likely to become an alcoholic by the end of all this, for fucks sake.

Chapter Text

*Edit: to note for the outfit

Bracelets from aiko (it completes the look she says!)

Utility belt chain thing from irutora (wears it when he’s not at school, actually kinda practical to keep keys on.)

Volleyball keychain: Given to him by Tanaka when Kiyoko rejected it as a gift and he didn’t want it. Keeps it on the chain thing.

Necklace that had his grandpas ashes in it, never wears it while playing volleyball for fear of loosing it. Usually tucked under his shirt.

Thrifted jersey he got recently. The nine is cool, but he can’t seem to get the thrift store smell out…

Pants Irutora grew out of a long time ago but still kept. They are still two sizes two big for Kageyama.

(hidden achievement unlocked! Shoelace he keeps in his drawer to tie his pants up that nobody will ever see.)

White undershirt. Does he always wear one…?

Headphones from Miwa connected to old iPod… also from Miwas old stuff.

Shoes that he’s pretty sure came with the house. Are they his father shoes? Who knows? But they fit him, they’re comfy, and they’re already scuffed and old so he doesn’t have to worry about fucking them up.

All proper undergarments including mismatched socks. (Don’t be weird. He’s not even 16 yet this is NOT a timeskip fic!)

Woohoo outfit lore mwah. My favorite. Don’t know what has compelled me to do this.

Chapter Text

All Kageyama could say right now was thank the fucking lord it was still a Sunday. He knew he would have to drop by the damn school on Monday to pick up his work for the week from a likely wary and worried Takeda, filled in on everything that happened in any odd theory and absolutely out there fuckshit rumours that were floating around out there about him. He can’t fucking wait. But even though he was trying desperately to avoid worrying about the incoming potential confrontations and any endless number of non-ideal scenarios. So for now, he would just focus on the current woes. Aka, Aiko, the alcoholic party girl judging everything in his apartment. Who sauntered in, freaked out over his wrists, switched up and called him a dramatic emo bitch when he looked even mildly uncomfortable. The provocation worked, and Kageyama grumpily snarked something back about Irutora putting him on “Whore Babysitting duty”, to which Aiko started to dramatically insist she was the one on babysitting duty, the audacity of that bitch. The ensuing petty argument was completely unnecessary and mildly ruthless, with an underlying desire to give into alcoholism and day drink on both parties. But even as he was annoyed, the emotion was familiar and manageable. Distracting. That woman surely knew too. 

Kageyama could tell when someone had potential others might not credit them for. And he saw it in that little gleam in her eyes. The slight quirk of his lips when a familiar mask of irritation crossed his face. He could always tell. 

Their ceaseless, sibling-like bitching and whining at each other only ended when the tell-tale sounds of a mugging filtered through the window, and Kageyama sighed. He began to get up, only for Aiko to put a hand on his shoulder, frowning. A silent warning not to stick yourself in others business. As was code. As was safety. Kageyama sighed.

“He doesn’t like muggings around his buildings-”

“What-!? Wha- why does he care?! He’s a fucking-!”

“I’m getting there, damn!” Kageyama could feel his jaw twitch. She just had to say everything that came to mind whenever, didn’t she? Kageyama has a feeling he would be exposed to enough gossip in a weekend for the whole year. “Anyway- He doesn’t like muggings around his buildings because if there’s muggings in the area, cops will linger around more. And he doesn’t want cops lingering around his… business. So we have to-”

“No we don’t! You aren’t him, you can’t just break it up, it’s not safe-!”

“Oh for fucks sake! You interrupt people so much you’d think you were the Friends laugh track. He’s thought of this. You know how seriously the man takes his business. Come with me. We’re going up.”

Aiko Huffed in protest, but didn’t argue. And so, Kageyama brought her up to the roof, going to the corner by the alley, where if they looked quite a bit further down, they could see a man holding a knife up to a terrified, but also stalling man. Aiko looked down with an unreadable expression, seemingly lost in her thoughts until Kageyama picked something up to show to Aiko. Her face morphed into confusion, then mildly abject horror. 

There, in Nainsu’s arms, was… Aiko blinked multiple times at what was surely not-...

…

…

…A fucking Microwave-!?

“This here is the anti-mugging device, full name: The fuck off Canadian Microwave.” Kageyama explained, pointing to the words “Fuck off” scrawled crudely on a severely busted up but somehow still intact Microwave. Aiko watched in wordless horror as Kageyama dropped the microwave, which crashed to the ground, narrowly missing the two men, and effectively turning them both into track stars as they raced out of the alley as Kageyama and Aiko watched from above, the wind caressing their hair as they looked out on the mornings of the red light district. They stood in silence for a moment.

“...How the fuck did he come up with that anyway?”

“Well… after I got pretty fucked up in a fight-”

“You what-!?”

“INTERRUPTING-”

“YOU GOT-”

“I'M TRYING TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTION MY GOD! …Look. He had this old Canadian microwave that’s older than me, and he couldn’t seem to destroy it… so somewhere in his convoluted plotting mind, he figured this out. A way to stop any mugging without endangering the person stopping it. No blood, no police. I don’t know how he thought of it. He’s… dumb but smart. Or- he’s smarter than he lets on- err.. Well, he’s kinda shit with some things, but like, suspiciously good at others. Not like me. I’m dumb. And not very good at explaining things.” Kageyama said, and Aiko could see the look in his eyes. The pain that comes with not fitting in. Of not knowing and understanding your peers, unable to socialize with them, and with a lack of shared experiences with most people, let alone people his own age. Aiko couldn’t be sympathetic, as she had a lot of peers with similar experiences in her line of work, and it also paid her to be charismatic the same way it likely paid him at some point to be closed off and distant. It was all a measure of protecting yourself in this place. 

You did what you had to do. She could relate to that much. They were similar in some regard, after all. And they…

“...You might be more similar to Irutora than you give yourself credit for Nainsu.” Aiko observed. The kid was fascinating, she would give him that, as she looked at him looking out, deep, gunmetal blue eyes staring out at Sendai. He was rather pretty, in an odd way, she noticed. The thought made her frown a little. She knew first hand what men  here did to any pretty young thing. Even though it was more uncommon and certainly more frowned upon, homosexuality was still a thing, especially in red light districts, and plenty of women liked pretty boys too. She wouldn’t be surprised if just like her, he had a skewed perception of love and lust, born of years in this place. Of being preyed on by the people here who didn’t care for things like age or price. 

It’s no place for someone his age. A place filled with sins, and none stronger than ravenous, ugly lust. But he seems to ignore it completely. Part of her wonders if he tunes it out. Another, quieter part of her wonders if he doesn’t like women at all. She wouldn’t be all that surprised. He certainly doesn’t look at her with attraction in her eyes. And everyone thought she was hot, so he had to be gay, right? Because he doesn’t look at the girls with lust in his eyes, just like Irutora. Just like Irutora, the kid looks at everyone with blank, deep eyes, as if looking through them for something that isn’t quite there or isn’t ever coming back. She knows he lost a lot of people. They all had. He just doesn’t remedy it like the other boys do. 

“...You know, I think all of us might be alike in that regard.” Kageyama said, breaking the silence. Aiko gave him an odd look. As if she was so used to downplaying her own cunning and intelligence that she almost forgot it herself. Kageyama didn’t necessarily understand that. While he might operate on the same principles of “fake it till you make it” that he did, he tended to do so in the opposite way. Acting smart until people thought he knew what he was doing enough to leave him alone. Kageyama didn’t like help. In his mind, help was connected to notions of loss and rejection. Of owing someone. Perhaps it was an issue. The odd look came and passed as they both sat there, like two strangers really seeing each other for the first time. Then, that mischievous twinkle came back in her eyes, coupled with a smirk Kageyama was growing to know better than he thought he would.

“Hah! And what a trio that would be… c’mon kid. I’m bored, and we’ve got all Sunday. Let's go hit up the slots.” Aiko said with a smile, and then… back to what Kageyama called “regular scheduled Aiko”, and his face fell in annoyance as, like he predicted, he would be dragged all over the place with an Aiko trying to get him to do stupid shit. He has no fucking clue how Irutora puts up with this. 

She must be making him some good ass money. 

Getting to the casino was no big deal. Of course, Kageyama wasn’t fond of the place. They encouraged you to drink, because the more you drink, the more you blow all your money on nothing, and the richer they get. And Kageyama doesn’t like being taken advantage of by anything, let alone something so obvious. So he just follows Aiko around as she tries to find “a good machine”, which Kageyama tries not to roll his eyes at. They’re all rigged anyway.

She eventually parks herself at one, and Kageyama just sits by and tries not to make any rude remarks. The staff stare at him, and he stares right back. They know he’s with Irutora, anyway. As much as he doesn’t like the implications of that, the feeling of safety in a place like this is worth most of the hassle. When his semi-confident, semi-concerning staring back inevitably makes people lower their heads, (Something Kageyama found people do since they never expect you to stare back. He abuses this whenever someone stares at him too long.) he decides to observe the others in there to avoid whatever noises the machine is making. The only people in here right now are those that can’t come at night… and those who have been here through the night. Kageyama frowned at the miserable looking business man slumped over the seat. Probably running through all his money on his day off in a seedy district instead of spending time with his wife and kids. That type of situation was all too common here. Kageyama wrinkled his nose. Normally, he was quite sympathetic to addicts. He was one, after all. Because once you’re an addict, you’re always an addict. No matter if you recover or not. However, he couldn’t really fathom a gambling addiction. If he gambled 500 yen and lost it, he’d probably blow up the casino and everyone in it, himself included. As Aiko fussed over the machine, putting in another 1500 yen, Kageyama started to wander around the place, picking at the bandages on his wrists. Goddamnit… no volleyball for a week? This sucked, and he was bored. If only they could leave and do something at least a tiny bit interesting. Because at this rate, he's not sure how long he could last. 

Tobio Kageyama really needs to learn to be careful what he wishes for. Because the moment Aiko doesn’t have him around her, men flock to her like vultures to a dead carcass. And yes, he’s aware that he’s comparing her to in the simile. A dead, rotting carcass. Because that’s exactly what he’s picturing Aiko as while he gets crammed into the backseat of a sleazy young rich guy's sports car because she decided she wanted to be a hoe. And he’s probably offered her money and a good time. He’s not sure how she managed to pull off the “he’s my little brother im being forced to watch” but apparently the man was too head over ass for her to question why he was in the casino, and too desperate to get her in his passenger seat to question why he came along. But… that wasn’t quite true. When the man looked back, Kageyama saw it. The neck tattoo. The glimmer of recognition when he saw Kageyama’s face. The barely mouthed, “so that’s Nainsu…”. No. This man knew who he was. And Kageyama’s analogy was most certainly right. This man was a vulture. And Kageyama, despite his faith in the protection of Irutora’s name, knew best to be careful.

As it would turn out, well, judging from the conversation Kageyama was only half listening to as he was jostled around in the cramped backseat, Aiko knew this guy. To a degree. He was… a customer. Sort of. He spent money on Aiko and did at least a little business with Irutora if he was, as Kageyama was almost certain he was a part of the criminal world of Sendai. And you couldn’t be involved in the underground dealings of Sendai while being that rich without meeting Irutora at some point. Kageyama hadn’t bothered to learn the man’s name, and being as such, nicknamed him “Mermaid” in his head, because of the dragon scales on his tattoo peeking out of the collar, and because the man was frankly very fishy. Rich enough to be driving this modded piece of shit, but the tattoo suggested he wasn’t the boss of any big company with ties to crime, because those men keep themselves clean to avoid the scrutiny of the clean side of Japanese high society. He should probably be happy that the man wasn’t one of those rich bastards. But if he wasn’t one, Kageyama would guess he worked for one. Based on the build, the charisma, and the vague menace in his look, this man was probably some sort of bodyguard or hired… something. As they pulled up to a fancy hotel and parked, Kageyama got out and gave Aiko a wary look, which she waved off with a look of “we can both handle ourselves in this situation.” And Kageyama then had two very strange little revelations. 

One: Just because he can handle himself in a situation, doesn’t mean he should be in it. And Two: He was surprisingly good at reading people, if he only paid attention to the obvious and not trying to figure out a deeper meaning. Despite what many present or try to think, most people really aren’t all that deep.  He’s not sure why he thought you actually had to know someone to well… know them. He knew he wasn’t that deep, and he would appreciate it if people tried to look for a deeper meaning in him less. It never occurred to him that maybe others do feel the same way he does. Which happens to trigger revelation three: Damn. He really has gotten isolated and alone to way too far a level, if he forgot that other humans are… in fact not as different as he made them out to be in his mind. That, he’s actually a lot like others in many aspects.

A sinking feeling filled his mind as he went up in the elevator, ignoring Aiko and Mermaid’s conversation as he tried to ignore the unwelcome thoughts that connected those revelations to his teammates. He didn’t need this right now. He picked absentmindedly at the bandages, the sensation of pain in his wrists distracting him from his own thoughts for now. 

He had deeper things to worry about. Such as where Mermaid's hand was placed as he led Aiko into a side room of the massive, multi room suite. Definitely a bodyguard. He has his own room in the suite, but not the master bedroom. 

Kageyama turns on the T.V as soon as the noises start. As much as he had no desire to watch reruns of Kono yo no Hate, he would rather that than listening to the alternative. He would rather jump out this top story window than the alternative, actually. 

At least Aiko has the experience and consideration to keep quiet. 

Kageyama quickly realizes that he might as well be in a rich people version of a trap house. As it turns out, whoever that guy was a bodyguard for wasn’t some CEO of a business with shady ties, but the son of one. And to give you an idea of how much cocaine that means he’s doing, it’s a lot. The man didn’t even register that he was there when he came in with his friends, a few women, and a fair share of pure cocaine and fine sake. It only would register after fifteen minutes that there was a kid sitting in the corner. Kageyama had uncomfortably curled up in the corner of the room and began to stare uncomfortably at people as they started to do lines. Not broken up enough. His nose is going to start to bleed. It was almost routine, coming from time and time again he lived this.

This reality where a man rules, where drugs sit on the table while people ignore the fact that you’re too young for any of this as much as they ignore they know what they're doing is wrong. The reality where you drink till you’re wasted and do cocaine till you feel sober then pay a woman in the room over to swallow kids that would’ve become just as fucked up as you are. 

It’s rotten and disgusting to its very core. And Kageyama sits there, and he makes eye contact with a wasted stranger. And the thing making him uncomfortable was how expensive the hotel room was. It wasn’t the wasted strangers, it wasn’t the drugs. It wasn’t the pure debauchery of the situation. It was the immense and careless display of wealth. 

Kageyama found himself realizing, as he gazed with wariness and discomfort into the unnaturally large pupils of someone who looked like Gackt in 2005, that he was more afraid of something that was merely foreign than something that was an actual problem that he was used to. 

At that moment, Kageyama felt rather stupid. For focusing on keeping away from the unknown, from the risks that could benefit him, all while he pushes himself further and further into what he knows is bad. But it’s what he knows. He can handle it because he can predict it. He can find security in what he can control. But when control isn’t an option, he’d at least like to know what he’s dealing with. A predictable, human flaw. Because Kageyama chose to live in a web of messy contradictions he strings together with lies and lashing out to protect the simple 8 year old boy who likes to play volleyball with his grandfather and sister in the backyard instead of taking a rather simple risk that he long overcomplicated in his mind because his world spins at a pace that’s too fast for him to catch up to without the risk of leaving something dear behind.

Kageyama is snapped out of yet another unwelcome revelation by another unwelcome variation of someone slightly older than him with a very questionable set of hobbies and a very annoying personality. It seems that his life has consisted of that a lot recently. Unwelcome revelations, unwelcome events, unwelcome people… yikes. Did his life just like to fall apart randomly, or was his brain just too consumed with volleyball to see the signs that shit was starting to hit the fan? Based on the last 24 hours, Kageyama has decided to pointedly ignore the fact that it is definitely the second option to glare at the coke addicted, playboy looking sleazeball who was staring at him like he wanted to start something-

“... Uhm. Who the fuck are you? And why are you here?”

Kageyama glared at him. The man looked put off by that, which was understandable. Kageyama had a glare like Irutora and his fathers deep blue eyes to boot, so he probably looked a bit… off putting. But the man still manages to hold a flicker of interest in his eyes. Perhaps that’s because he was interested in why there was a random, sober, poor 15 year old in his fancy ass suite. Or, more sinisterly, he was wondering if Kageyama’s lack of interest in the two scantily clad women giving his friends lap dances and sultry looks while everyone was splitting the first 8-ball of the night meant that Kageyama was gay. Gay, and therefore an object in the man's eyes. And while it was pretty clear the man was straight, Kageyama knew better. If he has seen, literally seen, that coke can make someone horny enough to try and fuck a raccoon, it would surely make a straight man horny enough to hit on someone as pretty as him, not matter if there was a more than mildly questionable age gap between 15 and 20 something (Kageyama didn’t know this guys exact age), even if technically, it was legal. But it’s not like most cokeheads cared much for the law. And yes, he was pretty. Kageyama knew for a damn fact he was good looking, and that he looked appealing even when he wasn’t taking good care of himself, and that both men and women were attracted to his pretty features and his build and what not. He just didn’t care that he was.

God knew not to give Kageyama Oikawa’s charisma. He would’ve been absolutely unstoppable. 

“Well, my name is Nainsu, and I don’t know why I'm here.” Kageyama griped back at the man. Kageyama had decided, regardless of the man's intention, that he didn’t like him. The man was an asshole regardless, Kageyama wasn’t a fucking fool. The man was literally Tsukishima but way worse. At least Tsukishima is and has always been sober and most definitely a virgin. Not that Kageyama cared, but this man he was staring at was more like the opposite of that. Actively on coke and probably had chlamydia. For the first time in his life, Kageyama misses Tsukishima. 

Despite himself, he takes a shot at the revelation. This is top shelf sake, the strong shit.  The burn is comforting right now. This isn’t volleyball. He could drink. He could say whatever his drunk mind would inevitably desire. Here, he can be at his worst and it won’t be an issue. It is a world that operates on different rules. And so, he could get drunk. 

And just as he suspects, the man doesn’t bat an eye about the shot. But, his eyes widen, making his massive pupils look even more ridiculous. “Holy Fuckin’ Shit!” The man barks out, a tad too loud, amusement and amazement warring in his semi-manic expression. “You’re Nainsu. The one everyone says is the second generation of his right-hand or some shit? God, I never really cared about that. I was too young to go with them in the glory days, despite me bugging my stupid fucking old man. Old bastard thinks he can tell me what’s right. Hah.” The man gripes on, seemingly unable to maintain a relevant topic of conversation. “Fuck… anyways- you just… when people said it was like they had a damn son, I didn’t realize they were being for real. And you would actually be around the right age…!” The man started to cackle. Kageyama wrinkled his nose with obvious disdain. This guy was weird and implied things that went over his head in a way that reminded him of a certain upperclassman who also happened to have several women around and excessively styled brunette hair. 

Deja vu strikes. He does not miss Tsukishima, and he certainly does not miss Oikawa. He has to take a second shot. The burn hits again, and he feels a bit better. He feels a bit less. But it only gave way for the disdain for the way the man spoke of his father even though he was nothing more than a broke ass bum freeloading off of him like the parasitic leeches that spoiled rich kids were. One thing he appreciated about his teammates at Karasuno was that they weren’t like that. And… another shot. And another. One day without volleyball and he began to crashout. A crashout now fueled by alcohol. 

Damn. This addiction gene and addict tendency shit can really sneak up on a guy. Since when was he looking for excuses to get blackout? That was his dad.

“...Just shut up will you? My life isn’t your business. I don’t even know who the fuck you are. Mermaid brought Aiko here and because Irutora told us to keep each other in check, I was forced to come along to this fuckfest. I just wanna go back home to Kokobuncho, but thanks to that whore in the other room and the fuckin’ mermaid, I’m stuck here.” Kageyama mouths off, too drunk to care about how he came across. And he didn’t even care. He liked being drunk, to a degree. It was like all his social burdens went away somehow. If only it was so simple talking to his teammates. But he couldn’t be drunk on the court. 

Sure enough, his mouthing off ended up being fine. The only thing a coke addict can truly get mad and stay mad about while high as shit is when you mess with their coke, and the man just went on more tangents that led Kageyama consistently down a deeper, drunker path. This type of crashout is starting to look a bit worse. The night gets blurry after seven shots deep. He remembers more people coming. Aiko and the guy finished and came out to drink and party. Someone ordered food, someone was trying to hotbox the place. There seemed to be endless amounts of cocaine. Kageyama was smart enough to pass out on the master suite balcony, whether that be carried by instinct or by some rare stroke of drunken genius. But, he's able to be passed out alone without much risk. This part of being drunk is the part he doesn’t like. Where you didn’t push your limits enough to throw up, but you’re so blackout plastered you can’t fucking move. At least he was just… there. Nothing happening, just floating pleasantly through time and space for a while.

He wouldn’t regain any semblance of sobriety till around midnight, when he got up. He walked into the master bedroom, walking past the two people fucking with complete disinterest. He had absolutely no interest or care, and was content with blissfully ignoring the two on the bed without even looking in their direction. He had been around enough debauchery that this didn’t phase him. As long as he didn’t look like a creep. He walked into the main room, stepping over a girl passed out on the floor. He stopped to check, but nope. Wasn’t Aiko. He didn’t have much time to recover before he had to dodge someone’s vomit.

It took him almost 15 minutes to locate her between all the chaos caused by the 20-ish people in this large hotel suite. Seriously, rich people's parties were different. Some drunk guy had even pulled him to the side and handed him some ridiculous amount of yen while loudly telling him that he needed to “look good in front of my friends and help the homeless.” Kageyama almost slapped him, but there was already a fight going on like 10 ft away, so it’s not like this stupid ass part needed another. Dude was so off his ass all Kageyama had to do was glare and act a little rough around the edges and the dude pissed his pants… literally. God, he's getting out of here the minute he finds her. Good riddance to this. 

When he finally found her, less sober than he was, it took a little while to get her to leave with him because, “for fucks sake, we have shit to do tomorrow bitch. I don’t care how expensive the bottle is. Stuff it in your purse and if it’s still there when we’re at my apartment, you can finish it.” Took a little while to explain to her when she was who knows how many shots deep. He managed to get them both out of the building but his hair was covered in glitter by the end of it. Great. That is never washing out. And after around 30 minutes and a few detours, he managed to get Aiko and the half empty bottle of alcohol into his apartment in one piece - 2 fake nails. All in all, it could have gone way worse. But it doesn’t change the fact that they’re both going to be miserable next morning. Aiko will be hungover, and Kageyama was miserable anyways. 

He dumps her on the couch. Sure, it’s not the nicest, but it’s 1 am, and she’s the reason he’s not in bed earlier. Plus, he knows where she can look on the brightside- she was waking up in the apartment of someone she knows and trusts enough not to harm her. And that’s not always a luxury afforded to those living the life she did. He leaves some water and painkillers out on the counter. Not much, but it’s the most he can manage given he’s about to collapse. The last thought his mind has time to process before his brain becomes quiet for the night was that if every day for the next week was like this, and he wasn’t getting paid and he wasn’t playing volleyball, he wouldn’t make it through the entire seven days. It did in some ways feel like Irutora was punishing him, as if he was a petulant toddler who threw his rice on the floor. But there was no denying the fact that there was a fire lit under his ass now.

Because facing his teammates, (and god forbid explaining himself to them) was starting to look more and more appealing, if only as a way to escape this. Sure, it’s familiar. He can handle it. But he doesn’t want to have to handle it anymore. Without any sort of distraction or addiction, without something like volleyball, he was forced to look at his life for what it actually was; A gilded fruit, presented with a shiny layer of gold that only served as a pretty distraction so you wouldn’t notice the rot underneath. 

Chapter Text

Sure enough, he woke up the next morning feeling miserable as usual, filled with dread. Because it was monday, and monday meant he had to go to Karasuno. Somebody sedate him. Fuck. At least he doesn’t get hangovers, otherwise this day would be even more of a nightmare. He sat up, grumbling. Fuck, he needs to get there at 11 and it’s already 10:20-

It’s fucking WHAT.

Kageyama jumps up out of bed, ignoring the glitter that falls out of his hair. He needs to get his ass in gear if he wants a shot at getting to Karasuno even remotely on time. He jumps into a cold shower with a muffled screech, washing himself as quickly as possible. He gets as much glitter out as he can in five minutes, but his hair still shines like a fucking disco ball. He runs out of the shower, drying himself off as quickly as possible, throwing on a white shirt, black sweatpants, mismatched gray socks, and some ratty ass shoes. He puts on some deodorant and brushes his teeth quickly too. He isn’t a heathen, he has some sense of hygiene. Unlike some of his fellow teammates. Hinata smelled like sweat or cheap ass soap when he didn't smell oppressively of axe body spray. None of the third years wore a good collonge, and don’t even get him started on Tanaka and Noya. Kageyama knew they all likely noticed the faint smell of cigarettes that seemed to cling to him no matter what, though, so he’s not sure how much he could judge. 

At least he can’t help it. 

After checking in the mirror to make sure he looked presentable, only to groan at the sight of his bangs being too long and too glittery. Fuck. At least it hid his dark circles pretty damn well. Now, it’s time for the hard part.

He had no choice but this. Sorry Aiko, no time for being considerate. Not when it’s her fault he’s going to be late. It’s already 10:35. He will do what he must. He grabs his pan (singular, he only has one.) and a wooden spoon. He braces himself, and then goes for it.

Kageyama busts into the living room where Aiko is passed the fuck out asleep. He starts banging the pots and pans together, saying, “Wake your ass up” until she opens her eyes to wince, glare at him, and start to cuss him out a little bit. Kageyama goes to get her a glass of water and her painkillers, ignoring the swearing that followed him over from the pissed woman on the couch. 

“I fucking swear to god Nainsu, you better fucking explain your bitchass in the next five fucking seconds-”

“Shut up, take these pills, and get your ass up. I have to be at school in 20 minutes, and it’s all your fucking fault i’m late-”

“Ugh! Fuck, I hate you sometimes Nainsu. And how the fuck do you propose we get you there? I don’t have a fucking car.”

Aiko said, upset and annoyed, but at least begrudgingly accepting her responsibility in the situation. She took the pills with a shaky hand, and drank the water, frowning at him, and he frowned right back, thinking of exactly what the fuck they were gonna do-

“Wait… can’t we just borrow one of Irutora’s cars? Man’s got plenty, he won’t miss one for a couple hours, and he's out anyway…” 

Kageyama thought innocently, with a raised eyebrow. Aiko made a face, probably because this dumbass kid just suggested that they steal a high level yakuza’s car. What a fucking genius.

“So you’re suggesting we go down to the garage, get the keys for the one sports car because that’s the only one we could get away with. Because you’re seriously fucking suggesting we steal Irutora’s car and having my hungover ass drive it?”

She scoffed, and Kageyama rolled his eyes. Jeez, when she put it like that, it sounded wayyyy worse than it actually was.

“Well… technically I'm suggesting we borrow it. It’s not like he’s gonna miss it. Come on, time is fucking ticking…” 

Kageyama urges, and Aiko finally relents, getting up and following Kageyama out. They manage to get down to the building lobby, although Kageyama has to shut her up because she keeps whining about wearing last night's makeup. Thankfully, he managed to deal with it with a few “You’re wearing sunglasses because your ass is hungover anyway, so why does it matter?” and one “Calm down bitch, yesterday’s eyeliner is today’s smoky eye. Now chop chop”. They bust out of the run down building lobby and onto the even more run down street, making a beeline for the car garage nearby. Thankfully, the person on duty was inexperienced and utterly charmed by Aiko enough to give them the keys to an old car that had very recently been fitted with a handful of illegal mods that hadn’t been test driven yet. But, Kageyama and Aiko are now in way too much of a hurry for that. They have 10 minutes to get to Karasuno on time, and a ride is a ride. Kageyama makes Aiko drive, because even though she doesn’t know it, Kageyama doesn’t have a license. Has he driven before…? Maybe. But they don’t have time to run from the cops if need be, so Aiko is driving, even though she probably shouldn’t have a license. 

The car starts with a roar, and Aiko floors it out of the garage before either of them have a seatbelt on. Tires screech, Aiko screeches with them, and Kageyama gets hit in the face with Aiko’s purse as they peel out onto the street. The car is filled with the sounds of an engine too powerful for the car, 2NE1 playing in the background, screaming, and swearing. As they get the car straight and zoom off down the street, Kageyama grabs the half full sake bottle that managed to survive the walk home last night and the first 30 seconds of what’s looking to be an absolutely insane car ride. He unscrews the top and takes a gulp. Because Aiko was driving a racing car, a drift racing car with no experience. Just enough to take the edge off. Plus, if he ran into any of his teammates… Well, maybe it was worth a try. Just once, to talk to them when he wasn’t as socially inept, even if it was only drunken confidence. He tilted the bottle back with a shaky hand. This was probably a bad idea, but really. What could go wrong with a sip or two?

Aiko then slams on the brakes to avoid hitting the car in front of them because the car was already going too damn fast on its own, the acceleration amped up to a ridiculous amount. That’s what could go wrong. Kageyama isn’t paying attention to the way her purse falls all over him again. He barely even registers getting hit in the head with a tube of lipgloss. Because whatever of the bottle he didn’t just unwillingly have forced down his throat spilled all over him. Kageyama slumped, hit his head, and cussed loudly. Aiko cussed even louder. The light turned green, and off they went again. They were okay for the next few minutes, until they got closer to Karasuno and the roads turned windy. Kageyama was screaming and cussing as his head was starting to spin a little as the alcohol took effect. Aiko was screaming, trying to spray perfume while drifting over corners with less control than would be desired in a scenario like this because now the whole car smelled like sake, and they can’t just return the car smelling like sake.

For all the chaos and nightmare that was this car ride, Kageyama is sober enough to be thankful when they manage to approach Karasuno mostly physically unscathed, the car still together, although they had hit enough curbs that it might not last the way back. But there was no time to think about it now, as Aiko tore through the parking lot, only managing to slow down enough to let him out of the car. He opens the door and jumps out of the car while it’s still moving, stumbling onto the school sidewalk, before jogging off to the entrance of the school. He doesn’t hear what Aiko is shouting at him as she drives off to do god knows what where, leaving a not that sober but not too drunk Kageyama to walk into Karasuno. It would typically be an awkward ordeal, to walk into his school looking like shit, dressed like shit at… 11:05, but the alcohol made it much more bearable. At least he wasn’t that late after all. Well, at least not as late as he could’ve been. It only came at the cost of a few near death experiences and half a bottle of fine sake. So… an average Monday for Kageyama. Fuck this. At least all his teammates are in classes right now, and so he won’t have to see them. 

He enters Takeda’s office quietly and nervously, trying not to stumble. Seeming drunk around a bunch of volleyball playing teenage idiots who weren’t familiar with what drunk people were like was one thing, but Kageyama had to act sober in front of adults. Especially Takeda. Thankfully, Kageyama has the small security of Takeda not knowing at all how he would act if he was drunk, and because he wasn’t looking for it. That’s one thing Kageyama had learned about addiction, why most people’s friends and family didn’t notice until too late. Because when you aren’t looking for the signs and overestimate how well you know a person, it’s hard to see signs because you aren’t looking for them. It’s especially true with teenagers and people his age, because… well, people are expecting it less, and they want to believe it less. They ignore the signs either out of obliviousness or not wanting to acknowledge what they should, and then they act all shocked, surprised, and hurt when you hit the bottom of the barrel and they can’t ignore it or be blind to it anymore. And maybe that sounds like he’s giving too much slack to addicts, and well, he probably is. Maybe it was the life he led, the troubles he faced, or just the things he had seen, or probably all three, but he was far more empathetic to addicts than most. 

He was brought out of his random, drunken train of thought by Takeda waving him over with a smile that didn’t quite reach his worry-filled eyes. Fuck. At least the man wasn’t looking at him with suspicion, though worry wasn’t that much better. Kageyama didn’t like it when people looked at him with worry. The only other time this many people had been so infuriatingly worried over him was his- was his grandfather's funeral. 

Kageyama grits his teeth as he walks over. The alcohol makes the thought pass quickly, although Kageyama had a feeling this would come back to haunt his brain later. Because of course, everything seems to lead back to that. Even seeing someone worry about him made him upset because it reminded him of that. Fucking ridiculous.

“Ah, Kageyama-kun! It’s good to see you! I have the assignments from this week from all your classes, just one moment-” Takeda said warmly, shuffling through a stack of documents to find a folder with some papers and his name written on it in a neat script. Kageyama nodded slowly, taking the papers. “Uh… yeah. Thanks.” He supplied, trying to convey his gratitude, even though it probably sounded dismissive and awkward anyway. Takeda didn’t seem to mind though, his eyes softening slightly, his voice softening with worry… and something Kageyama could hardly recognize anymore; care. 

“Kageyama-kun, I was meaning to ask…” Kageyama tensed up nervously. Fuck. Could Takeda tell something was up after all. Drunkenly panicking, yet trying to save the situation, he blurted out, “I don’t know what they told you, but I didn’t get kidnapped, it was just-” Takeda cleared his throat, a confused and dumbfounded look on his face. Fuck. Kageyama had messed up, he had gone ahead and spoken without thinking, and now his teacher and team advisor was looking at him like he grew another head. Kageyama opened and closed his mouth, trying to find a way out of this. Takeda, who must’ve gotten over the normally very serious and calm Kageyama spouting complete nonsense, and just gave him a look Kageyama didn’t like at all. 

 “Kageyama-Kun…” Takeda began, before laughing awkwardly. “Uhh… nobody mentioned you getting kidnapped, I was just going to ask if you were doing okay? It’s not like you to miss this much practice, even if I know you don’t care much for school…” The man trailed off, the unspoken question left hanging in the air. Kageyama wasn’t sure what he was asking about. Good thing Irutora had drilled him on this so much since he first took him in, that his drunken brain didn’t forget it. What to say when an adult asks any somewhat risky question, if you will. He says it on autopilot, without having to think much, so at least it’s convincing, even as he awkwardly stumbled over his words. Why is acting sober harder when he was actually trying seriously? 

“Oh. Just a family thing… uh- erm. Uh. Everything is fine at home though. I’m a… I’m ok.” Kageyama managed, not very convincingly, if the look Takeda was giving him was anything to go by. He silently cursed himself. How had he managed to make this so much harder for himself? Fuck drunken confidence helping him talk to his teammates if need be, he was never stepping foot near the school drunk again. The lunch bell for the first and second year classes rang out, signaling the beginning of lunch in the background as it must be 11:20 now. He had only been here 15 minutes, but it felt like an eternity and a blink of the eye at the same time. Alcohol really messed with his perception of time. It felt like another eternity, waiting for Takeda to say something. He felt tense, like everything could come crashing down at any moment. He resisted the urge to puke, because it would only be an even more dead giveaway that he was drunk, that something was wrong. 

“Okay Kageyama-kun. But, you seem a little rough… so, make sure you’re taking care of yourself, yeah?” Takeda-sensei said, which helped Kageyama feel a bit better. Even though Takeda had noticed he was rough, he didn’t notice how rough. Or, he just noticed something else, or thought he did, judging by the way the man was still looking at him with so much worry in his eyes. Kageyama had to swallow down the urge to puke again. The longer he stayed here, the more chance Takeda would have to figure out his flimsy excuses and see his less than sober state. So, he nodded his head, stumbling over his thank you’s and goodbyes in a total rush as he moved to the door of Takeda’s office. But before he could stumble out the door, Takeda spoke again.

“Kageyama-kun?” He called out, making Kageyama pause, but not turn around. And it’s good that he did, because if he had looked Takeda in the eyes at that moment, he might’ve broke down crying at what the man said next. “I’m not so sure what’s going on with you, but… you know I have your back right? The whole team does. So don’t be afraid to reach out to us, okay? You’re their teammate and starting setter, and they care about you. Especially Hinata, he’s especially bummed out you won’t be here for a week.” The man said. Kageyama bit his lip, his hands shaking on the doorknob. But he didn’t look back. He couldn’t. Not right now. 

“Thanks, Takeda-sensei. I- I’ll be back soon, it’s not- I mean... I’ll be back next week.” Kageyama said quietly, keeping his head down as he walked out the door, tears threatening to fall. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore. He was drunk, overwhelmed, and then… and then Takeda-sensei just had to say that. He didn’t know how to handle reaching out, but for the first time in a long time, he almost felt like blurting everything out, just to finally, finally feel at peace. But he couldn’t. All he could do was promise. Promise that he would come back, that he would try again. Because he was- Because he was on a team. And they needed him to play. He couldn’t be so selfish as to leave them behind. Even if it meant he would have to learn how to be a… half decent friend. His role as a good teammate before the role of being a good setter. Because part of him felt like he was too close to finally getting… somewhere. He couldn’t just quit now, damnit. He had put in too much work, into volleyball, into being an even half normal human being to quit. He wasn’t going to go down the other path laid out for him only to inevitably suffer his father’s fate. Because there was no other path. It was volleyball or nothing, really. So goddamnit, he might just have to take half a chance, suck it up, and figure his shit out. 

He closed the door behind him, thoughts swirling through his mind. His hand lingered on the doorknob after he closed it. Steadying himself. He could feel a newfound sense of odd determination in him. He needed to find Aiko, then find Irutora and talk to him. He needed to fix this. Maybe fix himself a little in the process, if he wasn’t completely beyond hope anymore. He wasn’t sure where the sudden sense of… motivation came from, maybe from the alcohol, maybe because he was just… so damn tired of all this shit. Sighing, he turns to walk down the hall with a scowl, already mulling over how the fuck he would find Aiko, because he was drunk, in the middle of school, and she had driven off in a sports car twenty minutes ago. Fuck this. You know what, light work. He could get back on his own just fine. Once he sobers up a bit.

However, just as his drunken confidence comes back in full force, it’s going to be put to the test once again. Kageyama can hardly fight the urge to slam his head into the wall and crack his skull open. Right there in front of him, taking their lunch break to head off to Takeda for some reason, was Hinata, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Tanaka, and Noya. Not the five people Kageyama wanted to see right now. He stiffened, a tense look settling on his face as they looked at him with suspicion, worry, and confusion. Or, just with a normal sneer in Tsukishima’s case. Kageyama frowned. He had a feeling this conversation was doomed. And it hadn’t even started yet

Chapter Text

Kageyama stiffened and stared at the five, a scowl forming on his features. Fuck. He needed to get out of here as fast as possible. So, instead of saying anything, he just tried to awkwardly nod and walk past them, but that didn’t work, because of course Hinata and his big mouth had words for him. 

“Kageyama! Where have you been? Why haven’t you been answering your phone, and you weren’t at practice and you haven’t been answering anyone-”

Good lord. This is headache inducing. Hinata’s voice sounds cartoony and terribly annoying when he’s drunk. He grimaced, and Tsukishima, one of the few perceptive people there, seemed to notice he was uncomfortable based on the look he had on his face. He made a face. Gosh, now Tsukishima would probably just make this worse, knowing that shit stirrer. But, to Kageyama’s surprise, the blond just elbowed Hinata and gave him a look, only for Hinata to slow down. Or, at least switch his rambling. 

“Erm! Well, what I mean is… You just- You just…” Yamaguchi cringed, Hinata looked frustrated, and Tsukishima just facepalmed. Tanaka and Noya just looked at each other with mild confusion. Tsukishima cleared his voice in annoyance, seemingly sick of whatever fumbling Hinata was doing. “What the shrimp means to say, is that when you disappear on us under… tense circumstances and show up looking like shit and smelling like a woman's perfume and cigarettes after skipping practice… the team is worried about you.” He finished, and Kageyama blinked. Worried? About him… it made sense, sure… but the fact that he mattered enough to worry was… comforting. Sorta. He was still looking for the nearest available exit to this conversation, while also simultaneously opening his mouth to defend himself, because Tsukishima had a point. He looked fucked and definitely smelled suspicious. However… someone else spoke first.

“Hey man, it’s probably not his fault he smells like cigarettes. Y’know, I also kinda smell like cigarettes because Saeko smokes, but that ain’t mean I do!” Tanaka butt in, which made Tsukishima’s jaw twitch, but he nodded, relenting. Hinata, seemingly recovered from whatever moment he was having, and was now staring at him with the rest of them, as if waiting for him to explain. Yikes. Silent pressure much? He nodded at Tanaka, a silent gesture of faith, before grumbling out, “I… just have a family situation at home so I can’t go to school for now.” He mumbled out lamely, only to see everyone’s expressions turn various shades of worried and accusatory. Okay, fuck. He needed them to not ask questions. But how- Drunk mouth faster than brain. 

“And I'm going to be back next Monday anyway, it’s not that big of a deal.” Kageyama said, before frowning at them, as if telling them not to talk. Hinata, of course, could not gather that. Or more accurately, just did not give a single fuck. 

“B-but, that still doesn’t-!” Nope. Nope. Kageyama just isn’t even going to let him finish his sentence. Consequences be damned, he is not doing this today. Cmon. “Yeah and it doesn’t have to explain anything. It’s really not your business. If it was, I would tell you. All you need to know is what I told you.” Kageyama said, his tone bearing weight and what he hoped was finality. He didn't want this conversation continuing any longer. Nobody seemed to like his answer. Noya was the first to break the silence with a frown. “Well geez. Don’t get all pissy because he’s curious and worried about you Kageyama. It’s understandable.” The boy said, and Kageyama grimaced again. Fuck… this is so tiring.

“And that’s fine. But I don’t wanna answer these questions. I told him I was fine-” “But you don’t look fine! Kageyama, you look tired, and hurt, and why the fuck is there glitter in your hair!? Not to mention you smell like perfume? This doesn’t make any sense. And now you aren’t coming to practice for a week? Kageyama I…” Hinata interrupted, looking hurt. And Kageyama, for all his own anger, did feel a bit bad. He might not understand why, but he could see that the shrimp meant… well. Of course he did. How could he not? They were… teammates after all. They were the freak duo, with their crazy quick attack. And Kageyama, on his part, felt he should at least try to make things a little bit right. 

“Tch. It’s not the end of the world. I’m coming back aren’t I? Don’t tell me your lame ass is gonna forget our quick if I'm gone for a week.” Kageyama said, crossing his arms with a scoff. Perhaps not the nicest way of putting it, but deep down all he was trying to say was “I’m not quitting. We’re still gonna play together.” And Kageyama could see the flicker of a challenge in Hinata’s eyes, and he knew he had gotten through a little.

“Wha- No! Just you wait, you come back and i'm going to be better than you-”

“Like hell you are you little shit-!”

“- Shut up! And you still haven’t told us why you’re all glittery, glitteryama. What’s up with that huh?” 

Hinata smirked, the peanut gallery compromised of the other four boys laughed, and for a moment, it seemed like everything was maybe just a little bit fine. Well, to everyone except the guy scanning his absolutely fried brian for some excuse as to why his hair was still shining like the vice principals bald ass head. So, when absolutely nothing came to mind as to what reason he could possibly give for trailing shimmer like a fairy princess, he just… grabbed Hinata. It was like a weird, drunken instinct, he just grabbed him. When he didn’t immediately start shaking the boy like an enraged bartender, Hinata looked at him strangely. And for a moment, they both just stared at eachother, and in a weird moment of semi sober clarity, it felt like all eyes were on him. Waiting for him to just spill. Everything. 

He looked deep into Hinata’s eyes, the deep uncomfortable silence stretching on between them for what seemed like infinity in the blink of an eye. He could see the determination, the challenge… the care. All held in the piercing gaze of his honey brown eyes. Kageyama, for all his pride, couldn’t handle to be looked at with much more than indifference or anger anymore. The only reason he didn’t look away and never look back was because it felt like losing. And he couldn’t lose to Hinata. Never. But there was nothing he could say. Especially not with the eyes of the other boys keeping a careful eye on every detail. His mouth was dry, his blue eyes stormy with conflict. But he couldn’t back down here, couldn’t give up his facade of seminormalcy. But he found that he was also refusing to budge on his team. He… he didnt want to give up the only team who had really accepted him for who he was on the court. And maybe even off of it… even though that’s where the problem starts. So after what felt like an eternity (but was probably only a couple awkward moments), backed into a corner with a brain full of glitter, Kageyama looked Hinata in his eyes, leaned in… and shook a bunch of the glitter into his hair. 

Hinata gasped, trying to shake it out, but it was no use. There is no getting glitter out of hair. They will be finding the same glitter in his coffin someday. And then everything and everyone erupted at once. Hinata was making offenede noises, going on and on about what a jerky dickface Kageyama was, and Kageyama was grinning while taunting Hinata, saying “Oh yeah? Well why do you have glitter in your hair huh?” Tsukishima was smirking while also looking fondly in the direction of the lunchroom. Big back probably mourning the lunchtime he was missing. Yamaguchi was cackling, and well, Tanaka and Noya were full on imitating them through bursts of laughter.

“Damn, you two looked so fucking gay. I coulda sworn you two were gonna kiss or something!” Tanaka cackled, smirking at them. Hinata started sputtering trying to find a comeback as usual. Everyone else was laughing even harder. Kageyama just scoffed though. He was starting to sober up for real now, and those bright ass school lights absolutely cooking his sensitive retinas were making him grouchier than normal at this point. So, his response was;

“And? You look so fucking gay with no girlfriend in sight.”

The response to Kageyama’s sharp and rather rude remark, Tanaka gasped, practically clutching his pearls while everyone else errupted like an elementary school cafeteria table during a yo mamma smackdown. It was a moment, out there in that hallway, where we see what Kageyama’s life could’ve looked like. Should’ve looked like. 

Where moments of silly teenage joy were just silly moments, not something foreign and earthshattering. The simple everyday motions of life, joy and connectiona and traded words, is a luxury. A luxury most have become accustomed to in life. But for some, they live in a series of tragedies. They live in sorrow, and in drowing out their own grief, cease to be able to afford such a simple luxury. So trapped in a hell partially of their own making, any glimpses of genuine, effortless joy become precious treasures. And oh, how they long for such treasures in their darkest hours. But once you’re in that deep, you must fight, claw and tear your way to a place where you can finally laugh as effortlessly as the others. Run and run and never look back till you reach the future where your past is the tragedy, not the present. 

And sometimes that means you have to change. To fight the person you have become to become someone better. Even if you have to do it alone. Even if you have to spend your whole life training, working, desperately fighting to just be better so you can finally make it. Until you can find someone who looks at you and finally recognize and understand the work you put in. Until you finally have the future you promised your 11 year old self when life wasn’t so hard. Even if you suffer the whole way there alone. 

Because every moment, no matter how small, can be a lifeline to someone like Kageyama. A sign to keep going, despite what’s happened. Because that’s just who he his. He can’t lose, not even to his own life. But the path to the future is long, hard and uncertain. Never linear. When the moment eventually ends and the laughter dies down, Kageyama’s shitty fill in phone Irutora gave him buzzes. Aiko, asking him where the actual fuck he is becuase she’s getting tired of waiting. Having a feeling that if he doesn’t head out now, he would be in for a miserable stumbling back to his apartment. So, with all the ceremony and grace of a crackhead on the street, he simply says,

“...I gotta go though now. Don’t try and text me, my phone got thrown out of a window.”

And then he turned heel and walked off as quick as he could, carefully leaving out that it was him who threw his phone out of the window. He hasn’t a care in the world for normal social formalities, and honestly, the only reason he bothered saying anything was out of the hope that they would be too busy reeling over that bit about the phone to chase after him. Thankfully, he’s able to leave the school with himself intact. Deep down, he even feels a bit proud of himself. That was kind of a trainwreck, but it definitely could’ve gone much worse. That was probably the worst of the day anyway. Eventually he finds his way to the car, containing a very impatient Aiko, who immediately scoffs when he slides into the passenger seat. 

“It can not take that damn long to get some fuckin papers Nainsu. Talking to your little friends?” She teased, pulling out of the parking lot before he could even put his seatbelt on. Kageyama just grumbled a response, causing her to make a comment about him being a teenage edgelord with no friends, which turned into Kageyama and Aiko trading insults the whole way speeding through the Miyagi streets. I’ll Call B4 I Cum became the backdrop for a particullarly brutal yo mamma smackdown which ended with an “At least my mamma loved me at one point. Yours never did.” And they both laughed anyway. Sometimes, a bond is a bond. Even if you can only bond over whatever bad things happened to you both. 

Speaking of which, Kageyama thinks he may be able to add kidnapping to the list, because Aiko decided to just drive to her place instead. When she parked the car in different lot, he turned accusingly towards her. 

“Why couldn’t you have just dropped me off at my place on the way?” 

“Because i’m not your damn chauffer, that’s why. If you wanna go back to yours, walk. We’re both going to Irutora’s car meet thing anyway, so you may as well help me get ready.”

Kageyama groaned, not wanting to deal with this or wanting to be in Aikos house, but being to tired to walk home or argue at the moment. He might as well just deal with it, because he’s just going to pass out asleep somewhere for the next couple hours no matter what. Climbing out of the car with exaggerated dramatics, he grumbled.

“Fucking fine.” He conceded, throwing his school papers in the backseat as he followed her into her apartment, climbing up the rickety metal stairs to a small rundown place just like his own. Her place was a fucking mess though, a product of constantly going out and partying, and just not taking care of yourself that well. He could hardly see the floor, there were empty bottles, clothes and makeup just strewn about. It looked like a teenage Gyarus bedroom violently collided with a trap house. But Kageyama didn’t say anything. Despite his dislike for such clutter, he was used to it. Couldn’t even judge her for it, even though he’s still grumpy at her for making him wade through garbage and trinkets to flop onto her stained couch, ignoring whatever she was saying as she moved through the space. The couch was dubious, a horrendous color with odd stains and a strange smell, and he might be chilling on top of a couple wrappers, crumbs, and something that feels scarily dildo shaped, the fluffy pink blanket was pretty comfortable, and he’d slept sketchier places. The pull of sleep was welcoming after the events of the past few days, and he couldn’t bother fighting it after being a little drunk. And he would need it for whatever Irutora and Aiko had decided to drag him to tonight. So, he focused on the music coming from her CD player instead of whatever headache inducing noises she was making, and dozed off to the beat. 

“...Be careful where you roam ‘cause you might not make it home…

…Don’t you dare ever get lost or get caught up in that sauce…”

Chapter Text

Kageyama was quite rudely awakened by the sound of shrill, high pitched yelling coming from Aiko’s mouth telling him to wake up. He groaned, rolling over and flopping off the couch with a string of muttered curses, blanket catching around his ankles as he clattered to the floor. 

“Fuckin hell bitch someone better be dying or else imma- EW WHAT THE FUCK-“ 

Kageyama’s mutters of sleepy annoyance quickly turned into a high pitched yell of frantic terror when something rubbery and vaguely dick shaped rolled off the couch with him, hitting him in the forehead. His hands violently flew to it, and it was flung off across the room, like he had instinctively spiked it away from himself. He got up off the crumby floor and McDonald’s wrapper as he took off towards wherever her bathroom was, right past her bedroom. Inside, the witch was cackling as he ran by, hair still messy with sleep and stumbling over the fuzzy pink blanket tangled around his ankles.

“You’re fuckin disgusting!” Kageyama groaned as he slammed the bathroom door shut. He’s never sleeping on her couch again. Or anywhere in her house even. He might get attacked by another sex toy or something equally dubious. He could still hear her laughter, the way his misfortune seemed to be the highlight of his day. Bitch. He could hear her holler back as he was stripping off his clothes, something about “Hell yeah I am hoe!” He shook his head in annoyance, turning on the water to tune her and whatever music she was playing out. He waited till it got scalding until he stepped in. He needed to be disinfected after laying on that couch for who knows how long. He would have to ask Aiko how long he had been out once he’s done scrubbing himself clean. Her shower was just like the rest of the house. Cluttered and hasn’t been cleaned in a while, the grout blooming all different colors of mold. She also had more soap than he’s pretty sure he’s ever seen in his life. Who the hell needed this much shampoo? He decided to pick the one in the pink bottle because it smelled like strawberries. He wondered if Miwa had this many in her Tokyo apartment. She probably did, given she was a hairdresser. He felt stupid for even wondering. 

He did wonder how she was doing though. Even though they weren’t particularly close, she was really the only family he had left that actually loved him. They would text sometimes, and she would tell him about her days at the salon, and he would respond with vague answers about his life. Just so she didn’t worry or get suspicious. Because he knew his sister. She would flip her fucking lid if she found out what their mom really did after Grandpa died. She thought that they had a strained relationship but his mom took care of him. If she found out what really happened… he shook his head as he washed out the rest of the fruit smelling shampoo. That couldn’t happen. It would destroy any relationship she had with their mother, however distant, and god forbid she uproots her life to come back to Miyagi to take care of him. She had a future just as much as him. Probably a brighter one. And he could handle himself for a few more years. It has gone fine so far. (No it absolutely had not. If he wasn’t living right there with the gutter rats, he was doing an absolutely miserable job managing his school life and he could hardly find people that could stand him. Oikawa, Kunimi, and Kindaichi were right. He had no idea how Karasuno put up with him.) But he was fighting it. Fighting himself, if the way his knuckles were discolored from being split open and healed over and over again. He shook his head. He had a week to fix this. He might as well focus on that. 

After getting out of the shower and putting back on his clothes, (He didn’t bother using her towel. That would be weird. He just shook himself dry like a damn dog.) he went into Aiko’s bedroom where he was applying her fake eyelashes. The moment he walked in, before he could even say anything, she whipped her head around, eyes narrowed at him. Like a she made a show of sniffing the air, like a bloodhound decked out in the newest set from ma*rs. She whipped her head around and before Kageyama could say anything, she pointed an accusatory finger. 

“Did you use my good shampoo you goddamn asshat?!” 

Kageyama froze, features twisting into a painfully awkward expression. That wasn’t a question. No point in lying.

“Erm… I didn’t know which one was the good one.” He muttered awkwardly. Which was truthful. He only knew the basic stuff that Miwa told him was good and he never strayed from that. Aiko scoffed, rolling her eyes as he went back to putting on her false eyelashes. It was weird though. A lot of things here reminded him of Miwa. Maybe it was just because she was close in age to Aiko. And being around her reminded him of how he… missed her. 

“Well, what did I expect? You probably use three in one or something. You’re a guy after all.” She scoffs. Now it’s Kageyama's turn to be offended.

“What the fuck did you just say about me? No the hell I don’t. I use shampoo conditioner and soap like a sane person, thank you very much.” He quipped, flopping down on the least cluttered spot on the floor of her bedroom. Aiko just shook her head. Without looking up, she responded.

“Geez. You use proper hair products, make sure your nails are always perfect,  AND have never even spared a glance at a pair of tits? Just come out to me already, goddamn.” 

Kageyama sputtered, his face flushing red. “Wha- no! Just because I have basic human decency doesn’t mean I’m gay-“ 

“You sure about that? Because even I be looking when I see a girl with a nice rack.” Aiko said, putting the finishing touches on her makeup. Kageyama just made a face at that, spiking a random piece of trash in her direction.

“I’m pretty sure that would make you the gay one Aiko-San.” He pointed out, crossing his arms. She just giggled, winking and wagging her eyebrows. “Ey, I’m not saying I am, but I would fuck Rihanna if given the chance.” Kageyama just turned another shade of red, making the most disgusted face he could contort into.

“…You’re terrible, you know that.” He said, moving to leave the room. 

“Yeah yeah. We’re about to go back to your place to meet ‘tora. And to get you dressed lookin fly for this car meet. For refusing to leave the closet, you sure can’t fucking dress.” She cackled, getting up after him and slapping him on the back. Kageyama whipped around, face flushed in anger and embarrassment. “Oh my god, shut the fuck up! Plus, it’s a car meet, not a fashion show… well… actually it kinda is like a car fashion show. But whatever, you’re still a raging bitch.” He said, walking with her to the car outside of the apartment. It was dark out, so he must’ve been sleeping for a while. The cool night breeze ruffled their hair as they stepped outside. He leaned against the hood of the car as Aiko stood by lighting herself a cigarette before they left. The night was somehow calming as he stared out into the neon lit alleys and listened to the sounds of traffic, of people starting to hit the bars and clubs after work. The soft scent of smoke wafted into his lungs, the very air tinged with it. Despite the turmoil all around, the turmoil inside Kageyama felt at peace. It was the type of peace he only associated with fleeting memories of sticky hands and a summer breeze, receiving volleyballs in a grassy backyard. Gray hair and stable hands spiking the ball, snippets of a face that was becoming harder to remember clearly. Echoes of laughter and an easier time. A better life.

And even though this place wasn’t his something better, wasn’t where he wanted to live forever in his memory… there was something undeniably familiar about it. Like even if he didn’t belong, there was still a place for him. Like the night welcomed him with open arms, the red light district drowning out the thoughts in his head. The rhythms of this city at night made him feel small. But in a good way. Like he was just another low life, just another wandering soul in this game of life. Like him and his problems weren’t so important, and for a moment, as he takes in the silence, he feels like a weight is lifted from him. Like just for now, at this moment, he isn’t Kageyama Tobio. He just… is. And it’s oddly comforting as it is unbearably lonely. But he can’t stay still, stay floating through the night like a ghost drawn to the flickering lights. Because life keeps on going. He can’t stay here, stay this way forever with his mind up in the stars. He’s got to keep on, hit the earth running and only leave a fragment of his memory behind. Because as easy as it might be, this isn’t the path he had chosen to go. He made a promise. Even if it was only to himself, it was something to cling to. Something to force him to keep going when nothing else would. 

Aiko finished her cigarette, and the drive is surprisingly quiet as they start heading to Kageyamas apartment. As if they both couldn’t help but be introspective at the current moment. Well, that was until someone tried to make a questionable merge and they both started cussing up a storm. Aiko laid down the horn before switching lanes so she could drive side by side, with Kageyama facing the drivers side. Aiko rolled down his window and he knew what he had to do. 

“STEP OFF HOE!”

And… now they're being chased to the light. Aiko floors the right turn before the light turns red, and Kageyama flips the car a bird before speeding off. If only he had that fucking microwave to throw. They manage to lose the guy, and they reach his place soon enough. Aiko is on a mission, busting down his apartment door like she owns the place, much to Kageyamas annoyance. He watches as she makes a beeline for his dresser, and much to his horror, she starts rummaging through his shit, throwing clothes on the floor with growing annoyance. 

“Bitch are you serious-“

“Nainsu, are you fucking serious? You dress like a common gym npc! No fucking taste at all.” 

She exclaimed, balling up a shirt and just deciding to fucking chuck it at him with no decorum. He scoffed.  After around 20 minutes of banging around, he ended up in a black button up 3 sizes too big, some baggy ass jorts, and socks. However, she kept lamenting on his lack of cool shoes and accessories. They were arguing about it when a deep voice boomed behind them:

“Will you two circus freaks please shut the fuck up?” 

“But toraaaaa!” Aiko whined “he doesn’t have any cool shoes or accessories! Trying to make him look even the least bit fly is making me pull my hair out! Ugh, I should be charging him for this!!” 

Meanwhile, Kageyama just scoffed and rolled his eyes. Irutora sighed, mumbling something about “not my circus not my monkeys” as he left the room, coming back a few minutes later with some Jordan XIIIs  that were only slightly worn. His size, which was odd. But everyone was waaaay too ticked off to complain. Aiko seemed placated, looking him up and down with approval. 

“Alright! Don’t you look like a pretty boy now, huh?” She smiles at him, before pulling both of the taller men towards her with surprising strength and her typical bubbly confidence, interlocking elbows with them both. “Let’s goooo!! Everyone knows we’re the best, flyest trio on the block, so let’s go get wasted and show out!!” She exclaimed excitedly. She dragged Kageyama to the car, (Irutora being too strong and too heavy, but not him.) he slid into the backseat of Irutoras souped up Mazda RX-7. Sleek black with a fiery orange and yellow dragon decal. Expensive. Fast. The type of thing that tells everyone at the car meet not to fuck with you.  They speed off, not even in a race yet and Irutora is acting like speed limits don’t apply to him at all. The engine is loud, but not as loud as Aikos chatter as it fills the car. She’s the only one talking, but it’s fine. She likes to yap, Irutora likes to listen, and Kageyama likes to stare out the window and lament his life choices. Their dynamic was easy, sensible, despite it being fucked up. I mean, they sounded like a joke. A gangster, a hostess, and a depressed teenager walk into a bar… 

Kageyama watches as the night blurs around him. Maybe in another life, he’s walking home with the other first years, coming back to his grandpa's place with a smile. Where someone would ask about his day, and he wouldn’t have to say bad. Where he tossed to Hinata in the parking lot instead of sitting amongst cars, money and drugs by the asphalt. He wanted to continue playing, to pick volleyball, but what he really wishes is to pick another life. One where his best friend is someone his age who doesn’t mind his personality and plays volleyball with him. Instead of a glorified escort who drinks too much and hits him in the head. He wishes it was that easy. Wishes the car would just crash and he would wake up in another universe where he wasn’t such an unfortunate basket case. Maybe he could be normal, if the one person left that loved him wasn’t hours away and oblivious to the fact that her baby brother who she had chased after volleyballs with was a scared teenager clinging on to a future he decided on the moment he was born. But he couldn’t change his past. He couldn’t change his fucked up living situation. He couldn’t only control himself and the court… except now he couldn’t even do that. 

Kageyama almost felt purposeless. Like spite might be the only thing he has to keep him going. Just so one day he could play on an Olympic level court with his sister watching in the stands and scream at the top of his lungs that he had fucking done it. Made it against all odds. If he couldn’t fix his past, he would make his future so he never ever had to feel this lost and shitty again. Of course he had to be a little selfish. Who else was going to help him make it? Sure, maybe he’s a bitter, guarded asshole with no friends. But how could he blame himself for that when this is what his life looked like? He would try and be polite when he gets back, snap less. But he couldn’t afford to keep trying to change who he was. Who he was survived. Being nice and personable would be great, but he isn’t like the others. He can’t afford to be nice. At least, not yet. Maybe someday, in a few years, he would be at a place where being as normal as possible wasn’t so daunting. But as for now, he has to take the crookeds with the straights. Be who he has to be, not who he wants to be. For now, he can just stare at the blurred lights out the window and daydream of what the future might hold.

Chapter Text

The modded Mazda RX-7 drifts into the parking lot surrounded by other similar vehicles. It’s a secluded lot in a quiet corner of the red light district by downtown. It’s quite the place. Neon lights and car engines blend with the background noise of the city to create a symphony that seems to ignite adrenaline in you. And you’re gonna need that in a place like this. Wannabe gangsters, real menaces, and thrill seeking car kids gather in droves. The whole place smells like liquor and bad decisions. It’s a thrill seekers paradise and a cops worst nightmare. Those guys were probably distracted somewhere else, and tonight wasn’t a big night. Perfect for racing. Perfect for fighting, and all other sorts of things. Kageyama wasn’t the only passenger in the backseat. He was babysitting the liquor and a brick of… something. All wrapped up in plastic. We all know what. That’s right. Everyone stops to look as those three pull up. They’re the main event in a way. Well, Irutora is. They park, and Kageyama steps out first, stony faced. Just in case someone tries something. He surveys the crowd.

The old heads know who he is already. Kiyoshi’s brat. Knew he stayed with Irutora. Knew something was wrong with him. Some of them he even vaguely remembers from when he was little, hiding in his father’s shadow, lingering out of place at such a young age. The younger gangsters, wannabes, and car kids are sizing him up. He meets their stares with one of his own glares, the one that nearly made Hinata shit himself that one time. Then there were the girls. Just like Aiko, they weren’t wearing much, and most of them weren’t there for the cars. The older ones looked at him like he was a piece of meat, probably because he was young, and looked depressed and also slightly gay apparently. Pretty bad boy, or whatever the fuck. Anyone who’s ever tried to have a conversation with him knows he’s really anything but. He does not want to talk to these people. He does not have to. He just walks around to open the door for Aiko while Irutora gets out. They make quite the picture. Type of shit someone takes a picture of so people can obsess over it 20 years from now when people won’t have anything better to do. Or something. Hes purposely avoiding eye contact now, especially as things start to move. Aiko has gone off to socialize with some girls, so he probably has some time before she remembers to come drag him with her, maybe 20 minutes once the race is starting. 

Irutora, on the other hand, he is trying not to look at as he leans on the car like a guard, like he’s doing something. But he’s not. He’s just trying to avoid getting involved in whatever Irutora is dealing right now. He doesn’t want to deal with all that shit. He doesn’t want to end up incriminating himself in any way. 

You never know who’s watching, so he keeps his head down, his mouth shut, and the switchblade Irutora gifted him tucked in his pocket. He should probably follow Aiko. Not because he wants to keep her mostly unharmed, well, not really. The main reason is because Aiko was probably where the alcohol was. Sounds like a statement an alcoholic would make. And he’s not. You know, he wants to keep his spot on the team and shit. But Irutora has made him realize what he should’ve known all along; you can get drunk plenty and still be a great athlete. So many pros are alcoholics on the low. As long as he keeps his drinking on the low, it’s fine. I mean, he saw for himself earlier today, right? I mean, what the fuck, they didn’t even notice? I mean, drunk people aren’t subtle. But then again, he’s also the only one around them often, and that’s… well they’re all alcoholics. And he’s not. And he can prove it, because he doesn’t ever drink alone. He doesn’t have any reason to drink until someone interrupts or somehow threatens his simple, lonely, volleyball oriented life somehow. Which is exactly why he’s headed off in whatever questionable direction he thought Aiko went. He’s got 15 minutes to get drunk enough that he can’t feel the pressure of his entire life on his shoulders. Drunk enough that nothing feels so fucking tense and angry and sad for a minute. It’s like hitting a perfect set in a bottle. It feels like winning a game once enough goes down. When the burn hits bad enough and your whole face feels warm, and for a moment, you’re five again, giving your grandpa a hug after a long day of practicing volleyball together. It’s those feelings, these highs, that he’s going to spend the rest of his life chasing. From the bottom of the last set to the bottom of the bottle to the bottom of the sea. Someone said you had eyes like the deep dark sea one too many times and now you just want to sacrifice yourself to the deep ocean when you die not long after you quit? No matter if it’s not good for you, it keeps you here. And that’s enough. Sometimes spending all your time practicing, sleeping or drunk with minimal contact with anyone except in times of necessity, volleyball, Irutora, or drinking is just what you have to do. It’s not healthy, and it doesn’t always keep you happy. But it keeps you from being just another name, another number, another grave with few to mourn. 

It can keep you here. Because I’d rather you be an alcoholic or a drug addict than dead. I’d rather you have unhealthy coping mechanisms than be gone.

You have to survive. 

Your Aiko will drink herself into a coma crying even though she didn’t think you were that close but she still loves all her friends so dearly. You don’t know it, but she feels comfortable with you even though it doesn’t make sense.

Your Irutora is going to have to mourn another Kageyama. He’d lose two people forever that day, because Kiyoshis eyes will never look back at him again. He’s even worse now.

Your Miwa is going to wonder that if you two were closer, if she had been around a little more, really checked up on you, would you still be here? If only she had known before it was too late. 

Your teammates would be shaken. They might even feel guilty, like they hadn’t done enough, even though you were the one who seemed to always keep them at an arms length. The team would never recover without you there. It would never be the same. 

Your Hinata. 

Kageyama weaved through cars, stopping to nod at anyone who waved or said hi out of respect, but he was too nonchalant and focused on finding something to drink that he didn’t do much else. At least he wasn’t doing it on purpose in the sense of being nonchalant for attention, ragebait, or bitches, but because he just really didn’t wanna fuckin talk to anyone and he wouldn’t until race time in approximately five shots of whatever he can get. Maybe he should stop and think about how maybe, the reason people can’t tell if he’s drunk or not is because his personality is just genuinely so bizarre and off putting sober that it doesn’t really matter how he acts when he’s drunk. Aiko says he’s “autistic and gay with daddy and mommy issues and who knows what the fuck else”. Irutora says that Kageyama reminds him of his father sometimes. Everyone else thinks he is mean or weird. Maybe five people want to sleep with him? …Killer combo. Just wonderful. A mentally ill gay mean autistic addict alcoholic with family issues. 

Kageyama thinks all this is, frankly, bullshit. As far as he is concerned, he is a normal ass guy, who just happened to have had an unfortunate life so far. Aside from being unusually great at volleyball and unusually dedicated to it, he is a pretty normal guy. I mean really, if you think about it. He doesn’t have time for men, or women, or even thinking about sex or romance. He spends a lot of time drinking in relation to a man sort of like his boss. Practically lives in the red light district. Enjoys a cigarette sometimes. Aside from volleyball, he truly does share a lot of characteristics with the average Japanese salaryman. In fact, Kageyama is lucky hes reaaaaal fucking good at volleyball because if he wasn’t he would be dead or stuck in a hellish Japanese work culture. The states he sees them in while out practicing late at night if he can’t sleep…. It’s genuinely sad it’s like that. 

Kageyama finally finds what he’s looking for between a GT-R and a Supra. A group of gangsters, mid-20’s and coming with a few too many bottles between them all. Kageyama hardly stops to look at first, only sparing the barest glance. Trying to gauge how friendly they are. He gets really lucky this time around, because one of them happened to be Irutora affiliated. 

“Ayo!? Issat Nainsu? Yo!” Kageyama turned around to see a guy with a pedo stash and grown out hair. And a small face tattoo, which Kageyamas eyes widened slightly at. That was bold. Even for these people. That probably should’ve been the first red flag, or, well, second. The first red flag was that there were no women. Kageyama knew women were more careful. That if he wanted to stay away from bad guys, stay near the women. But, women also scared him a little and he wanted to be drunk. And also not offend this dude. He gives a polite nod, jerking his head down and raising his hand in what he hopes comes across as respectful, not stiff. The man grins, a wild look in his blown out pupils. Red flag number fucking three. But he goes over anyway, nodding to the other men sizing him up. He’s lean, if not lanky from a lack of consistent eating. He knows he looks young, but the dull look in his eyes and face, combined with his height and a lack of sleep made him look beyond his years. Not to mention he never smiled. He would be wrinkle free… if he ever got old enough to have them. But looking older wasn’t always a good thing. Maybe there’s like… a few people here who have enough of a conscience not to harm a… child(?). 

But it doesn’t matter, because when he reaches for the bottle, the man just slaps him on the back and tells him to drink up. He’s briefly the center of attention, with the usual drunken goading around him demanding he chug straight liquor. He does, but goddamn he doesn’t fucking enjoy it. Yes he makes a fuckin face, that was gross. Good thing a scowl looks as natural on his face as a neutral expression. But, the only perk about hanging with guys like this, is half of them are on something and all they do is talk and have shit attention spans. And terrible, horrible ideas, self destructive plots, and evil in their unintended intentions. Nonsensical. But Kageyama is just like… chillin and sipping away quietly. Removed and just sitting by the main group. Maybe there’s something to be said about never fitting in anywhere with anyone. Of never having anything relevant to say for most topics except volleyball. He takes a moment between shots. Let the alcohol simmer for a moment. He forgets about when the race is supposed to start, and how much time has passed around him. He nods along and halfheartledy hums in agreement to the conversation around him. He's more focused on the stars though. And maybe volleyball? Well, always. It takes a while of being drunk for him to start thinking about his shitshow of a life and a past and what the fuck even was middle school-. The group has moved a little further into the main part of the lot. He’s not really paying attention though. He’s just stuck his hand in his pocket and found the greatest gift a drunk person could ever receive. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes, which, upon opening it, finds half a pack and a lighter tucked inside. At this point, he’s drunk enough to smile. A genuine, rare smile. And good fucking timing too.

It’s getting louder nearby, voices of men that gave him alcohol and unfamiliar ones rising. Drunk guys. Kageyama is one… but he’s the one lighting a cigarette and staring of into space in peace. Because a drunk cigarette might genuinely be one of the closest feelings one can get to peace, if smoked at the right point of drunkenness. He just smokes and marvels at the exhale. Breathe in. Breathe out. 

The rush hits like he just won the biggest game of his life. He's hit set after set. Inhale after exhale. The moment is blurry, but shit, he’s fucking happy. It’s warm. Sweaty and sticky. Muscle burns just like the cigarette has burned down to nothing. The pain seems to briefly jolt him out of his drunken stupor. He was looking up at the night sky, the few stars he could see blurring in and out. But you can only remain in a daze of starlight for so long. Because of the increasing commotion Kageyama had been drunkenly ignoring as time stretched and warped in his mind… well, he had just been standing in a dark ass corner, drunk and smoking a cigarette in peace for a moment too long. Lord knows that Kageyama Tobio can’t find peace anywhere. Especially not with the massive fucking brawl that seemed to have broken out a few feet in front of the two cars he’s sitting between the shadows of. He gets his ass up off the concrete with a jolt. Now, he’s drunk and also freaking out. Because he needs to get the fuck out of here right now.

He’s sweating, figuring out what he’s going to do as the brawl intensifies. Anyone who hasn’t already moved away to where the race just started is gathering and causing more of a commotion. Predictably, an event with a bunch of gangsters and lowlifes can go wrong. That’s not unusual. But it’s pretty fucking unusual for a brawl of this size. He doesn’t even know what it’s about, but honestly, nobody probably does, because everyone is exhausted and angry and willing to fight way to hard for a life that’s just kinda fucking shitty because it’s all anyone here knows. But that’s the problem. He can’t get involved, because who the fuck knows what’s going on. So, he steels himself. He just needs to get the fuck out of here. Find Irutora. Nobody would mess with him like that. So, he starts walking as fast and as inconspicuous as possible… towards the fight. Fuck. Maybe it’s because it’s gotten close enough and large enough that he can’t get around it. Maybe he’s just so drunk he can’t walk super straight. Or maybe he’s just really fucking stupid and doesn’t know what he’s doing. But being drunk, he just moves forward anyway, with a confidence that isn’t even his. No, that’s the cheap ass vodka talking. 

So predictably, he doesn’t get far before someone is thrown straight into him. Stumbling back, he shoves them off. Unfortunately, this is a drunken brawl, so the guy throws a sloppy right hook that hits him in the mouth. Thankfully he dodged so it didn’t hit his nose, but his drunken reflexes weren’t amazing. But if the adrenaline hadn’t kicked in before, it had now. If he can’t go around, he’s going through. He runs into the fray, directly into the man that just punched him. When the guy started moving to put his hands on Kageyama, voice raised and slurred. Between the commotion and the ringing in his ears, he can’t tell what the man says. And he doesn’t care. The man grabs his arm. Fuck. Kageyama looks up with glassy eyes at the man’s round head. Round like a volleyball… and next thing this man knows, a drunk teenager fucking brings his hand down on the top of his head. Real fucking hard. But it works. The man yelps, grabbing like it’s just been hit with the force of the spike of a very aggravated volleyball wizard. Which… yeah, that’s exactly what just happened. But, there’s no room to try and retaliate. Kageyama is pushing away, running his way through the crowd with the single minded focus of getting the fuck out of there. 

It was probably only two to five minutes to escape. But it felt like an eternity. He stumbled out, practically sprinting a few paces away before he could stop and catch his breath. People were yelling and screaming. He didn’t know if things were escalating or slowing down. Fuck, he didn’t care. He really didn’t fucking care. He could taste iron in his mouth. He had been punched and grabbed and shoved out of the brawl. He looked down at his busted knuckles, the blood on his shirt, which he wasn’t even sure was his. He was too drunk and high on adrenaline to feel much pain in the moment anyway. But goddamnit, he doesn’t have time to just stand around. His feet start moving, as he tries to put further distance between him and the brawl. He whipped his head around, hair blowing in the night wind as he looked around for Irutora or Aiko semi frantically. He was breathing heavily, sweat sticking his hair to the back of his neck, moving closer to the distant roar of engines. But he couldn’t get far before something else made his blood run cold. 

Sirens. In the distance. Getting closer. Fuck. His eyes widen a fraction. He jolts. Mind racing in what the fuck to do as he feels frozen, thoughts filled with scenario after scenario. Good thing his body reacts while his mind freezes. Adrenaline took control of his legs, and he started hightailing it the hell out of here. He doesn’t try to find Irutora or Aiko. He doesn’t wait for help. He just starts sprinting forward in the opposite direction without stopping. He can’t just stop. It’s not his instinct to ask for help. It’s his instinct to get as far away from his problems as possible. He doesn’t know where he’s going, and he doesn’t care. Just like everything else. He wants to get away from this. He wants to get away from this. He just wants to play volleyball, drink when he feels sad instead of facing it head on, and die before 50. If he even makes it that long, which, wasn’t looking good. His feet hitting the pavement and the city at night fade into the background. Time and distance and the world around him warps as he runs and runs. Getting away and surviving this nightmare is his only worry right now. It just goes to show that no matter how much he could try to glamorize a life where you can do whatever you want with no guidance, no parents telling you not to stay out all night or not to get drunk with random gangsters, it’s unpredictable, dangerous, and hard. Just a little fun can quickly turn into a messed up situation or a messed up life at the toss of a coin. 

It’s not fun, it’s not freedom. His life is absolutely fucked, and all he has for a better shot than an early grave is a sport. Volleyball is all he has. Maybe that’s why he ends up running back to where he first started playing at that old community center. It’s like his feet just took him there. He slumps against the outdoor net, adrenaline wearing off. His head is fucking spinning from the alcohol, vision fuzzy. He doesn’t know what time it is. The adrenaline is wearing off. He collapses on the pavement. His whole body ached. Everything was loopy. He’s had to have run far and fast to get here. Maybe. He’s doesn’t know how long he’s been running. He can hear a hysteric giggle slip from his lips that he hardly recognizes as his own. He should probably be breaking down right now, but he’s too drunk to care, slipping out of semi consciousness as he stares at his hands. Save the sob story for tomorrow when he’s depressed and hungover. His life is constantly falling apart piece by piece and all he can do is desperately force the pieces crookedly into place as he sprints full steam ahead so this can one day just be another part of his past he refuses to talk about. Another piece of his heart broken off and left on an empty court. From his childhood, from middle school, from his grandpa to now. He’s been chipped away at and broken down and built up again on and off the court. He’s never going to know the person he could’ve  been if his life hadn’t turned out the way it did. He won’t ever believe people will like him for who he is until he likes himself for who he is. But he’s going to at least start pretending he’s whole, in the hopes that maybe, his teammates could find it in themselves to not mind he’s only half the person he could’ve been. Because in this moment where he absolutely feels like he’s completely hit rock bottom, he needs any hope he can give himself that it’s not over yet. That he can somehow find a way to keep himself together long enough to make things okay again. 

And as his thoughts fade in and out with his vision, he wonders why he’s so worried about what his teammates think of him. I mean, given what just happened… maybe he’s silly to act so nervous. Maybe he just has to be who he is, the whole, fucked up version. Because he can take punches. He can take rejection. He can take being alone. And if they don’t like him the way he is, they won’t like any other versions either. Maybe he’s shit at making friends, maybe he drinks more than he should. Maybe he’s cruel and cold and awkward. Maybe he pushes too hard and tries too much. But if he is who he is, they could at least see that he cared. Cared enough to apologize no matter how bad he was at it. Cared enough to give his all even if his life was hard. That would have to be enough. Because absolutely they could not know that he’s borderline passing out drunk and mildly injured on the floor of a random outdoor court at a late ass hour. Good thing nobody on his team ever went to this community center. Especially not at this time. He could lay here till the alcohol mostly wore off. Nobody would find him. Maybe it was the nostalgic setting. Perhaps that was why he felt more safe than he should. Maybe that’s why he forgot something important. Someone important. Maybe he would recognize the faint footsteps getting vaguely closer after a while. Unfortunately, his mind is a little too fuzzy to process this. But he won’t have to. Not till the footsteps pause and he hears a very confused, very concern voice after what feels like ten minutes. 

“…Tobio…?”