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A small tip about a possible awake ley line took him to a very small town in Japan. There had been rumours about a school whose featured animal were crows. A school where a King and his Crow were meant to lead a team of fighters to a victory no one would ever forget. Even though there wasn't anything concrete, he wasn't about to waste the opportunity to research it. After all, Japan had always held some allure to him.
It took him a flight, several trains plus their various combinations, and a bus ride to get to this small high school named Karasuno, which meant “Of the Crow”. 'Coincidence,' he thought because it wasn't. There wasn't anything remarkable about the school and it looked like your everyday, ordinary Japanese high school. He took a leisure stroll around the campus, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible: he didn't have any permit to be snooping – visiting, but he believed that wasn't going to be a problem. He had timed his “visit” to be just after lessons had finished, that way there were less chances of a faculty member signaling him out and reporting him to the police. That would have been certainly awkward and highly inconvenient.
Everything looked like his research had told him it would: a big campus, one big building where lessons were probably held and two smaller ones - most likely the gymnasiums. There were also several small buildings surrounding the gymnasiums and the track field. 'One of those small buildings must serve as the club room for the volleyball team,' he guessed so towards them he went.
Gansey had dressed for the occasion, not wanting to leave anything to chance. He was wearing a brand new black track suit, white trainers, on his shoulder hanged a sport-bag while on his head sat a black cap. His intention was to blend in and to be mistaken as one of Karasuno's students. According to his investigation, the clothes he was wearing were similar to the school's PE uniform. He only hoped that no one would stop him or, worse, talk to him. His cover would certainly be blown off if the latter were to happen.
From one of the alleged gyms shouts could be heard. Shouts that sounded to his foreign ears like “More ippon!!!” or “To bear!!!”. He knew his brain wasn't interpreting those phrases well, but something inside him told him he should go to that building and see what was happening. The shouts seemed to be war proclamations and they made his heart hammer. With shivers running down his spine, hesitant, and wondering what he might find, he approached the door of the -confirmed- gym. He didn't dare going inside, he preferred staying outside and to watch from the threshold.
Inside, there were at least 10 boys running, jumping, hitting and receiving volleyballs, all dressed in black shorts, white t-shirts, and different pairs of shoes covered their feet. The team didn't seem anything special, to be honest. They looked like a regular high school volleyball team in the middle of practice. He sighed and something inside him deflated. He really should have known better than travelling thousands of miles to a small town in Japan only to follow what was proven to be the whisper of a rumour. He should have listened to professor Mallory when the old man had told him not to go on a wild goose chase, but he hadn't been able to stop himself. He had been -still was- desperate for a clue, for anything, that could explain to him what had happened to him on that fateful day. He should have prepared himself to face disappointment, really.
So immerse in self-pity he was that when the weight of two bodies coming at full throttle pushed him to the ground and fell on him, he was severely disoriented. His sight was blurry, his body felt as if it had been trampled on by a stampede, and his ears were ringing. He knew someone was yelling at someone else, that somebody else was helping him to stand up while another person asked him something he couldn't understand but he was certain it was if he was okay. With wobbling legs, he began walking and tried to shake his head, only to discover it made everything worse. He was taken to a chair, relieved from his bag and had his head probed: a man was checking if he had suffered any concussions - at least, that was what Gansey hoped the person was doing. He had also found in his research fetishes he could have lived happily without knowing.
It took him a few minutes to recover all of his senses (no such luck with his body, which still felt bruised all over) and once he did, he blinked a couple of times to find staring at him three seriously concerned people. One of them was a man slightly older than the other three, with spiky dyed blond hair, a mean look on his eyes. The second person was a teenage boy of white hair and a gentle face that was frowning at that moment. The last one was another teenager: he had a commanding aura, his stance gave him away as the captain of the team. All three of them kept staring at him until the one with white hair asked, ‘Day job’s car?’. Gansey knew the boy wasn’t inquiring if his day job was dressing as a car, but it had sure sounded like that. Context helped him to reason he was being asked if he was okay. He nodded. And regretted it immediately later.
The three men kept asking him questions, none of which we was able to answer mainly because he didn’t know Japanese. Oh, he was immersed in deep trouble. He began gesturing signs he hoped were international for “Ok” and “Don’t mind”, not knowing if he was being successful at conveying his message.
“Knee hung oh han a some’s car?” the captain. When Gansey looked at him with perplexity written all over his face, the young man scratched his head, then crossed his arms on his chest and shot at his teammate a look that cried ‘HELP!’. The other boy cleared his throat, took a deep breath and said slowly as if he was afraid of uttering a word he shouldn’t, “Do you speak Japanese?” to which Gansey replied, relieved, “No, I don’t”.
The man who looked like a punk opened his eyes like saucers and started stepping away from the situation, completely baffled, and leaving everything on the hands of the two seemingly capable young boys. ‘Isn’t he supposed to be the responsible adult?’ Gansey inwardly wondered.
“Uh… Wait. a. minute. please.,” carefully uttered the one who had uncovered his lack of Japanese knowledge, to follow it with “TSUKISHIMAAA, kocchi koi!”, looking at the direction of a tall boy who was wearing glasses and had what looked like natural blond hair (‘Could Japanese people have natural blond hair?!’). The tall boy came to them dragging his feet, uninterested and annoyed by what was happening.
The gentle one and the annoyed one exchanged some words, the captain hit the annoyed one on the head, and finally the annoyed one looked at him with such contempt Gansey was sure the boy was plotting his demise in an unsavory way.
“Who are you?” Gansey was fluently and bluntly asked. “Where do you come from?”
Now Gansey was faced with two options: being honest or deceive them all. If he chose the latter, he had the feeling that he wasn’t going to be able to come unscathed.
“My name’s Gansey,” he replied. “I’m from the USA.”
“America?” shady-boy retorted raising one eyebrow and looking more menacing if that were possible.
Gansey must have looked scared because the boy was hit again on the head by his captain and yelled at by the gentle one too. ‘He’s probably being scolded for being such a rude brat,’ Gansey smugly thought. The told-off boy sighed, raised his hands in defeat and looked at him once again, trying to control his body language in order to appear approachable - and failing at it.
“Are you ok?”
“Yes, I think so. Thank you for helping me.”
Annoyed boy just shrugged and spoke to his upper? classmates, likely translating his answers if their relaxed postures were any give away.
“I. am. Sawamura. Daichi.” slowly introduced himself the captain, as though he were speaking to a person with mental disabilities.
“And... I am... Sugawara Köshi. Nice to meet you,” the gentle boy said sounding like English words were foreign to his tongue. “This is Tsukishima Kei,” Sugawara said pointing at the tall blond, evil-looking boy.
“Ossu,” muttered Tsukishima. “They are sorry for what happened. Our two idiots didn’t see you creepily standing on the door and ran over you.” he explained. “That’s what they do,” he added sniggering.
Gansey took in what he had just being told and looked around the gym, trying to find the two culprits of his blown cover. They proved to be easy to locate as they were the only two sitting on the floor, burning a hole on it, while they were guarded by a bald guy and a shorty one. The four of them looked reckless and gave out a vibe of usually getting in trouble. He shook his head. The blow must have seriously shook him if he was thinking those things. No respectable Gansey would think such things of complete strangers.
Sawamura had gone to where the guilty were sitting and seemed to be scolding them for what they had done. The repentant duo looked embarrassed but they wasted no time in accusing each other - Gansey figured as they were pointing their fingers at one another. A stern look and command that brook no argument broke off the series of accusations, and the pair fell silent again to listen to their captain, who was back to berating them but this time in such a low and menacing tone that sent shivers down Gansey’s spine.
After a couple of minutes of scowling at the floor, the culprits stood up so Gansey had the opportunity to take a good look at them. The first thing he noticed was the height of the boy with orange hair: he was too little to be in high school, even more so to be part of the volleyball team. ‘Maybe he’s a… libero?’ Gansey mused. The second thing he noticed was the serious and sour face of the taller one, and how his eyes seemed to be taking everything in while his mind worked in a matter of milliseconds the scenario and figured out possible outcomes. The pair didn’t look striking at all, but a shiver did run down Gansey’s back as he looked at them. His heart began to pound a bit faster and a prickle was nagging his brain.
“GO MEN A SAY!!” they said in unison and as loud as they could, bowing to apologise. Gansey stared at them struck by the effusive apology and the way their bodies shivered. He wondered whether they were shivering in fear or in shame. When they regained their posture, the pair looked back at him as if they were waiting for something from him. Gansey only blinked. Once again, he reasoned they must have said ‘Sorry’ in Japanese so he mentally shrugged his shoulders while waving his hands to dismiss the apology.
“Don’t worry. I was standing by the door, anyway,” he said only to realise seconds later that they hadn’t understood anything if their looks of befuddlement were any hint. Gansey looked at the Tsukishima guy asking him for help. The boy sighed and translated Gansey’s words but he probably added an insult at the end because the other two looked murderously at him and had closed their hands in two pairs of fists.
“Hinata! Kageyama! Yamerou!” Sugawara ordered gently, standing behind the furious and apologetic guys placing one hand on the boys’ shoulders. “This is Kageyama,” he continued pointing at the taller of two, “and this is Hinata. They are... sorry for... pushing you... and... running... over you.”
Hinata and Kageyama nodded and bowed again, which incited snickers from Tsukishima and the rest of the team. It seemed that this was a regular occurrence: those two getting into trouble and jeopardizing the wellbeing of others. Gansey smiled bemused. “Don’t worry,” he said slowly “I don’t mind”. After being stung to death and coming back from it, being trampled on by two energetic high-schoolers wasn’t such a big deal.
“You are welcome to stay and watch practice,” Tsukishima invited him.
“Yes!” Gansey replied quickly. “That is, if your teacher doesn’t mind,” he continued. “I’d like to watch the practice. I’ve been considering joining the volleyball team of my school,” he blatantly lied without a hair moving out of place.
Tsukishima relied this information to the coach, who nodded in acceptance and then blew his whistle signalling that practice was to be resumed. Sitting on a bench, Gansey contemplated the volleyball practice. They were doing the same exercises they had been doing prior to him being trampled on with the difference that Hinata and Kageyama were competing to prove who excelled at the different activities they were to do. The two of them never gave an inch which seem to push the other to their limits and go even further if that was even possible. Gansey was transfixed in their interactions: they appeared to be the gears that compelled the whole team to do their best if the glint of defiance and determination on the eyes of the other team members was any hint.
When the team divided into two for a practice match, Gansey felt anticipation building up inside him. He rubbed his hands down his thighs and his legs began to move up and down betraying his cool façade. He even felt how the whole atmosphere had changed from cheerful to serious, the tension in the air. He witnessed how the expression on the boys’ transformed. They all looked like warriors on the verge of a battle, ready to fight their opponent who were standing on the other side of the net. Gansey felt silly for having such thoughts; it was an ordinary practice match between members of the same team not an epic battle waiting to be unfold. The sound of the whistle shook him out of his reverie and brought him back to reality.
However, as the match carried on and the tension kept growing, Gansey was sure there was something else going on. It was as though they were training - preparing themselves for future battles against formidable enemies; enemies who were stronger than them and much more experienced. Gansey noticed the way all of them relied on one another, each of them fulfilling a role while covering a teammate when he couldn’t go back to his position and how Sawamura was some kind of pillar for the whole team yelling at the players standing on both sides of the court. He really seemed to be leading a troupe of restless warriors.
While he tried to make sense of his thoughts, his eyes caught Hinata’s movements. Gansey couldn’t believe his eyes. One moment, the short, orange haired boy was standing on one side of the court and the next second he was leaping on the other side towards the ball. The thought ‘Not the libero’ crossed quickly his mind but the one that stood out the most was how much Hinata resembled a crow taking flight. At that moment he felt something pulsing probably inside him - his heart alone? - when a vision came to him of other people standing next to him and aiding him in his search for Glendower. Although the figures were blurry he was sure he didn’t know any of them - at least not yet. He was also certain that he was meant to meet those people, that they were going to be very important to him - just like every member of Karasuno was important to one another: how they connected, how they trusted and relied on the other.
Gansey felt dizzy and exhilarated at the same time. His ears were ringing, his heart hammering, his body so still. He began to understand that alone he wouldn’t be able to do much. He needed a team - no, friends in whom he could fall back on if something went south.
“Oi, American boy!” a palm landed on his shoulder, taking him out of his epiphany. He focused his eyes on the Tsukishima boy, who was looking at him as though he had grown a second head. “Practice is finished. We’re about to close down.” the blond boy said while walking towards the door.
Gansey quickly, and clumsily, stood up and caught up to the rest of the team. He didn’t feel like talking. Actually, he felt restless and ready to make his next move. So when he was asked whether he would like to be accompanied to wherever he was staying, he politely declined and thanked all of them for taking care of him and having him on their practice.
“It was… nice to… meet you, Ganshee” Sugawara said when they reached the point where their roads parted. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Gansey blinked in shock before a sincere smile appeared on his face. “I’m sure I will. I’m sure I will”.
~ おわり/END~