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They’d been standing outside of the stadium for nearly 25 minutes, bodies anxious and sweaty from the recent performance as they await the go ahead to file into the neat 10 yard blocks they’d been assigned.
Kageyama, due to being a trumpet, is near the middle of their block once the Karasuno Marching Band is on the field. Black shakos with orange plumes make it difficult for him to see anything other than the sea of minor shifts and movements as the bands settle in to wait for results.
At the rear of the Karasuno band stands Hinata Shouyou, standing at a measly 5’3” and marching bass drum. Of course they don’t have their instruments at the moment, but Hinata can’t help but finger absently at his harness, hooks poking at his black uniform. He wishes he could be standing next to Kageyama, maybe even holding the aggressive trumpet player’s hand. He can’t even describe the uncomfortableness in his abdomen as his nervousness rises in his chest. Finals is always the worst. Especially considering the long time that it takes for the announcers to begin, on top of it taking forever between placement calling. He just wants it to be over and to know their placing.
Hinata chews on the inside of his lower lip, eyes forward but focus on the stark still forms of Shiratorizawa to his right. The sudden wave of nausea in his throat caused by his stomach twisting and turning. The band spoke of winning finals for the first time ever often during the season. To be honest, Hinata does believe they could. Or he did. Until he watched Shiratorizawa’s performance. Now he’s almost certain that they won’t even get top five. A feeling of pointlessness and worry fills him and swims around in his buzzing, tired limbs like flies to dead fruit.
Almost as if from a movie, Hinata watches as the marchers in front of him part ever so much so that he can see straight ahead to Kageyama’s stiff form. The sight alone eases some of his worries, so he moves his eyes to the large screen in the corner of the room showing faces of band members and guard across the field. Then the speakers pop alive and his breath catches.
…
In fourth place, with a score of 84. 78...the AobaJousai Marching Jaguars!
The crowd applauds loudly, with increasing excitement in the families of bands yet to be called. Kageyama swears his entire body shakes with his rushing blood and pounding heart. Only three more places, and Karasuno has yet to be called. The scores so far have been tight, hardly a point difference between some. He swallows through his dry throat and shifts his weight to the front of his feet for a moment, fingers messing around behind his back. Shiratorizawa and Dateko. The other two bands left. Kageyama squeezes his eyes shut and hopes, prays, that they get higher than third. His mind drifts to all of Karasuno’s hard work, his own mind boggling commitment, to all of his new friends who double as his family.
In third place, with a score of 85. 25… the Dateko Rhinos!
Kageyama’s heart nearly stops as people around him shift in nervous excitement. A few people push him with their shoulders as a single, communitive thought courses through them all: second place. It’s not bad, not at all. Especially after being in class B for a number of years and only just coming back up to A two years ago.
Almost as if planned, the Karasuno Marching Band links hands and sends their hopes soaring to the skies. Kageyama’s fingers tighten in the hand of the person next to him, his eyes closed tight and head tilted down. This is it.
We’d like to give one last round of applause to all of the amazing bands that have participated in Finals today. Now, in second place, with a score of 86. 33...the Shiratorizawa Eagles!
The stadium erupts, thousands of people who sat or stood in tension now scream or clap good sportetedly for the winners. Kageyama, who still hasn’t looked up, feels both hands in his go tight before there’s an uproar around him. Kids jump and scream and hug and cry all around him in a confusing chaos. When he finally looks up to hear a congratulations from the announcer, he stands still for approximately half a second before there’s a wild force on his back driving him forward.
Hinata jumped nearly three feet in the air when they hadn’t been called for second. As soon as the rest of the battery had screamed out in unison their attention call, he shot into the frenzied sea of his fellow marchers and ran straight for Kageyama’s still form. Without a second thought, he jumps and nearly topples them over, but he’s too happy to care. When Kageyama recovers, he turns around and stares down at Hinata. They lock eyes and watch each other for some sign of anything not being real. With no indication of that, Kageyama takes off his shako and sets it down, hair a flat mess against his head. Hinata follows suit with his hair dishevelled under the headband and hair tie he used to hide his flyaway hair. Then they embrace tightly.
Hinata starts crying in no time through his buzzing laughter in Kageyama’s ear. Kageyama on the other hand, squeezes his eyes as tight as they can go so the water in his eyes won’t leak out. “We did it! We won finals, Kageyama! We won!” Hinata shouts a beat later, arms still tightly held around Kageyama’s shoulders. Kageyama grunts in response and pulls back to cup Hinata’s blotchy, excited face in his hands. His heart swells with love for the band program, and for their win, for their hard work paying off, and for Hinata, the one person who’d spent 6 months pushing him and making marching band worthwhile.
No one expects it when Kageyama leans down and kisses Hinata with months of emotions swelling inside of his chest. A few people around them who notice cheer or whistle, but mostly people continue in their own celebrations. After the two break, they stare at each other with flustered grins before they’re thrust into the celebrating mass of the band. They decide to celebrate. Hinata jumps up and kisses Kageyama chastely before running off to find the battery, leaving Kageyama to swim through people to the front of the block in a daze where he spots the drum majors. Daichi rests his forehead against Suga and Asahi’s, the three huddled in a circle and whispering together. Nishinoya has his bright orange shako on and climbs up onto Tanaka’s shoulders before screaming at the top of his lungs in victory. Tsukishima laughs and bumps shoulders with Yamaguchi, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.
“Hey, shitface.” Tsukishima stops laughing to turn just in time to catch a glimpse of black before Kageyama’s brashly pulling him down into a hug. Tsukishima huffs in confusion while Yamaguchi laughs full and loud and heartily as he joins the duo, an arm across Kageyama’s back and one tight in Tsukishima’s uniform.
“You realize you didn’t have to nearly assassinate me just for a hug, right?” Tsukishima fixes his glasses, but seems to be enjoying himself nonetheless.
“It wouldn’t be the same if I didn’t try.” Kageyama grins fully then, a hand moving to ruffle the drum major’s hair while he lets out a laugh, long and bright and much needed.
Later, after awards and more celebrating, Kageyama runs fingers lightly through Hinata’s hair as they head home on the buses. Hinata’s asleep, but Kageyama’s thoughts won’t slow down enough for him to fall asleep. So he idly strokes the orange tufts of hair while he talks quietly with Yamaguchi in the seat across from him. Tsukishima is passed out with his torso in the seat over Yamaguchi’s lap, while his legs are criss-crossed with Hinata’s and even Kageyama’s own. As the road passes by in a blur, he looks outside and watches the stars bright and inviting, congratulating him on his hard work, friends, and talents. He falls asleep later that night with a hand in Hinata’s sweatshirt pocket and the other on Tsukishima’s long, outstretched leg.