Archive of Our Own

“One more!”

The ball slams down with the irresistibly satisfying sound that blesses Hinata’s ears every time Kageyama tosses to him. One minute the ball is drifting in slow-motion before Hinata’s eyes, stopping perfectly in the path where Hinata’s hand slices through the air. Next, it’s bouncing innocuously on the other side of the gym. 

Kageyama nods approvingly. Hinata’s head whips over to the black-haired setter, exhilaration burning in his eyes. 

“One more!”

Tanaka walks past them twirling the keys to the gym on his finger as another ball slams down on the other side of the court. He turns to speak to the duo, even though he knows that neither of them can hear him right now. 

“I love the enthusiasm, but don’t stay too late, alright? I’m leaving the keys to the gym outside underneath the broken flower pot; just lock up when you’re done and put them back afterwards.” 

As expected, the only answer the second-year student receives is another inexplicably loud  slamming noise and Hinata’s excited hoots echoing across the walls. He sighs and continues walking anyways. “Man, wish I had their energy. Oh, to be young and joyful again.” 

Tanaka finally leaves, and the only two people left in the gym are Hinata and Kageyama. Another ball gets sucked into Hinata’s palm and joins its brethren on the other side of the net. A grin unfolds on Hinata’s face, and he’s about to call for another one when Kageyama says something that makes him snap to attention. 

“Do you still remember the day that I beat you? At that middle school tournament?”

A vein pops in Hinata’s forehead. He jabs a finger at Kageyama. “That was a long time ago!  I’m stronger now!  I won’t lose to you, Backageyama!” 

Kageyama seems unfazed by Hinata’s irateness. He has on the kind of expression he always made before taking a risky action; the one he makes before an annoyingly well-placed setter dump, or one of his intense serves that strikes the court like lighting right before the edge line. 

Kageyama’s forehead furrows, his brows draw together, his eyelids droop as if all the thinking makes him sleepy. But Hinata knows that Kageyama isn’t sleepy–the gears in his brain are probably turning at a hundred miles per hour right now, calculating every possibility and outcome in the span of a few seconds.

Kageyama’s brilliant, brilliant brain. Hinata often admired it, but never found himself envying it. He knew for a fact that all of those superhuman ruminations were something only Kageyama could handle–if Hinata were ever to try and analyze the entire court in the span of a few seconds, he’d only fry the one part of his brain that was actually in charge of making logical decisions, and end up doing something dumb like forgetting to hit the ball or serving into the back of Kageyama’s head. Hinata shuddered at the latter. Never again. 

Kageyama breaks the silence, his silky voice weaving through the air like an eel through water. “Do you remember what you said back then?”

Hinata pauses in confusion, rummaging through the disorganized memories in the back of his brain in an attempt to answer Kageyama’s question. 

“You mean when I told off your teammates in the bathroom?”

“No.”

“Or when you told me how amazing of a player I was and I commended you for your good tastes and–”

“Wha–no? When did that even hap-”

Kageyama sighed exasperatedly, running his hands through his hair. “You told me you’d beat me. That you would be the final one standing. Don’t tell me you forgot.”

If every single cell in Hinata’s body had been functioning at 120%, swirling through his veins with the adrenaline of playing with Kageyama, now they all froze from the unexpected nature of Kageyama’s words. 

“Of course not. I’m gonna beat you, and go to nationals!  That’s what I’ve been training for all along!”
Hinata straightens proudly at his proclamation, oblivious of the unimpressed expression on Kageyama’s face. 

“You can’t beat me before going to nationals, dumbass. We’ll still be on the same team.”

Hinata’s face turns as red as his hair. “S-Shut up!  You know what I mean!”

Then, Kageyama does something that turns Hinata’s cheeks impossibly redder, warming the blood rushing through his veins all the way up to his head where Hinata swears his brain malfunctions for a split second. 

Kageyama’s eyes soften. The corners of his eyes crinkle. A smile quirks at his lips. And Kageyama laughs . 

Not the irritating laugh he makes whenever Hinata messes up a receive or loses a race against him. Not the forced laugh he makes when he tries to lighten the mood on the court, despite his clear lack of talent for doing so. 

A real, genuine laugh. 

Amidst the pleasant bubbling in his chest, the squeamish sensations bombarding his heart, Hinata is reminded once more of how much he loves this boy. 

Hinata wasn’t really sure when he had started loving Kageyama. It was less a sudden, unanticipated realization, and more the gradual process of a foreign, yet welcomed emotion inundating his soul and filling every pore in Hinata’s skin. 

Kageyama’s presence was prevalent in practically every aspect of Hinata’s daily life. 

Kageyama meant waking up an hour early so that Hinata could make it to school on time to race him up the steps. He meant a not-so-mysterious milk carton left on Hinata’s desk when the redhead forgot to eat breakfast. He meant a worn-out English notebook stuffed unceremoniously into Hinata’s backpack when Hinata conveniently fell asleep during the lecture and forgot to take notes. 

Kageyama was a quick glance on the court. A blind leap into the air. The feeling of floating, emptiness, before Hinata felt his hand make contact with a ball that had magically appeared right before him. 

“I’ll bring the ball to you.”

Wherever Hinata went, Kageyama was there. If Hinata were asked to describe his life in one word, with his limited mental vocabulary and improvisation skills, there’s probably only one word that would come to mind. 

Kageyama . 

Kageyama had become an intrinsic part of Hinata’s life. Loving Kageyama was as easy as breathing, eating, or playing volleyball. 

Hinata loved his life. He loved waking up every morning, biking to school, and seeing the people he loved. And if Kageyama had inserted himself into the ginger’s very existence, become the foundation for one of the most integral parts of Hinata’s identity–volleyball–and somehow managed to hijack every one of Hinata’s thoughts, then loving Kageyama didn’t seem so strange at all. 

To Hinata, being in love with life meant being in love with Kageyama.

And he would have it no other way. 

Unfortunately, Hinata was no squealing schoolgirl. He knew that the chances of Kageyama liking him back–let alone with the same intensity–were slimmer than Oikawa’s chances of making it to nationals. Kageyama may have become the backbone of his everyday life, his existence, but the same couldn’t be said about Hinata for Kageyama. 

Perhaps to the raven, Hinata was not an integral aspect of his identity, but a side character blending in with the myriad of amazing thoughts that Kageyama had on a daily basis. Perhaps Hinata had long been lost in the endless flow of Kageyama’s genius mind. 

The realization hurt too much to consider, so Hinata had stuffed it away into the deepest corners of his mind, praying it never resurfaced again. 

“It may have seemed like a stupid promise to you back then,” Kageyama continues quietly, the emotions on his face fading into something unreadable after his laughter dies down. “But back then, it meant the world to me.”

“My teammates in middle school hated my guts. Even my coach probably wanted to bench me more than just once.” Every word is punctuated with regret, and Hinata can feel Kageyama’s pain from where he’s standing only a few feet away. 

“But I didn’t sense any of that animosity coming from you. You didn’t even hate me for beating you.” Kageyama finally looks up from examining the volleyball in his hands like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Now, there’s nothing stopping his deep blue eyes from boring into Hinata’s. 

“You were the first one to say ‘I’m here’.” 

“Huh?” Hinata says, perplexed only momentarily before his memories belatedly remind him. 

Their second meeting. The first time Kageyama tossed for Hinata.

“I’m here.”

Hinata’s face blooms into scarlet for the second time that day. He subconsciously sputters an incoherent mess of words in an attempt to cover up his flustered state; Kageyama clearly didn’t plan this far ahead either, because only a moment later his face is also flushed bright red and Hinata is dodging Kageyama’s infamous head grabs for dear life. 

“Idiot!  Listen to what I have to say!”

“I can’t!  You’re being too cheesy!”

“Hinata you dumbass!”

He chucks a ball at the ginger’s head and Hinata barely avoids a concussion by about two millimeters. The next few minutes are spent with Kageyama chasing Hinata around the gym, their shouts resonating in the vast space as more and more balls begin to litter the hardwood floor.

Before they know it they’re both splayed on the ground, sticky with their own sweat. Hinata looks over at Kageyama, his heart thumping fiercely against his chest in sync with his exhausted pants. When the boy next to him finally comes into vision, Hinata’s heart impossibly starts picking up the pace.

Kageyama looks ethereal . While sweat and running turned Hinata into a soggy, puffed-up tangerine, the sweat on Kageyama’s face seemed to glisten under the gym lights, highlighting every perfect dip and turn on his face like he’s some kind of Greek sculpture. Kageyama reaches a fist out to the ceiling, opening and closing his hand as if grasping for something in the sky. 

“Let’s win nationals together. Then, you can try and beat me. Maybe I’ll go easy on you.”

Hinata can’t help it. His lips quiver involuntarily, and in seconds he’s laughing. He, Hinata Shoyo, is genuinely laughing at something that Kageyama said. What a world. 

“I’ll serve another ball into the back of your head if you do, Kageyama!”

Then Kageyama does the one thing that could overwhelm Hinata more than laughing–he smiles.

And Hinata feels his heart melt into thin air. 

~ ~ ~

“We’d better get going now. It’s already 10 pm, and I don’t want Tanaka–senpai to get in trouble because of us.” Hinata leaps to his feet, brushing his clothes off and sending his mom a quick text that he’ll be home a bit late. He spends the next three minutes with Kageyama cleaning up the poor abused balls that they had strewn across the gym. When Hinata is about to place the last ball in the ball cart, he pauses for a split second, and turns back to Kageyama, stars glimmering in his eyes. 

“One last set?”

Kageyama only grins. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Hinata can practically feel his entire body trembling with excitement; that was what it felt like whenever he was about to spike one of Kageyama’s sets. He backs up a bit behind the white line then throws the ball in the air for Kageyama before dashing forward, concentrating all his power into the balls of his feet, and jumping. 

The court underneath him is empty. No blockers, no receivers, nothing. Hinata can clearly see the other side. 

How beautiful .

Elated, Hinata brings his hand down as hard as he can, trembling feverishly as he waits for that satisfying sound of leather smashing against wood. 

His hand hits the air. 

And before Hinata can react, he is back on the ground, and there is no ball on the other side of the net. 

Confused, he turns to Kageyama. “Hey, wha-”

Hinata’s eyes widened. 

Red . 

There was 

so much

red

everywhere 

on the floor

on the ball

splattered, dripping from somewhere 

where?

Hinata’s eyes

slowly 

looked up

and all he saw

was red.

Kageyama’s hands

red

Kageyama’s shoes

red

Kageyama’s eyes, bloodshot, disoriented

red . 

Kageyama looks up

at Hinata 

and Hinata

scrambles

falls

to his knees

grabs Kageyama

screams 

sobs

asks him what’s wrong

Hinata can’t hear

himself 

all he can hear

is Kageyama’s

b r e a t h i n g

why is it

so choppy?

so 

weak? 

Hinata’s phone

slips 

out of his clammy hands.

Kageyama

whispers 

his name

and Hinata

only

screams.

~ ~ ~

“Hinata?!”

Hinata jumps up from his seat next to the reception desk, nearly falling into Takeda-sensei’s arms. The words that he’s been containing for so long suddenly flow out of him in a jumbled, disgusting mess of tears and snot.“Tak-Takeda sensei he wasn’t – he wasn’t breathing, I don’t – I don’t understand – what’s wrong w-with him – what’s wrong w-with-”

“Shhh, Hinata.” Takeda brings Hinata in for a hug, holding the ginger close. “He’ll be fine. Kageyama will be fine. They’re running some tests on him right now.” All Hinata can do is nod weakly. 

“Are you Takeda?” A nurse suddenly appears before them, holding a clipboard in one hand and a syringe in the other. 

Blood . The syringe is filled with blood. 

Is it Kageyama’s blood? Why are they taking his blood? Oh my god, he was losing so much blood–”

“Unfortunately, only guardians are allowed to see the patient at this time.” The nurse says with a tone masked in pleasantries. “Would you mind waiting a bit longer while we-” 

“His sister is out of the country right now,” Takeda interjects suddenly, clearly just as anxious as Hinata is to see Kageyama. “She’s his only family. Please, let us see him. We won’t take long.”

The nurse seems to hesitate, as if weighing her options between following protocol or betraying it for the sake of the man before her. Finally her tight, stiff posture relaxes, as well as her stern eyes. 

“Very well. Follow me.” 

The nurse leads Takeda and Hinata down a long, white, winding hallway. Hinata subconsciously holds his breath as they pass by countless operation rooms. Hospitals never quite sat well with Hinata. They were too clean–too pristine and pure–for places that were tainted with the idea of death. 

He had been in hospitals too many times to count, when his father was still alive. Every week Hinata had visited his father, he would notice a different thing that had changed about the setting every time. 

First they’d taken away his father’s TV–his only source of entertainment. One by one, the get-well-soon gifts and bouquets began vanishing from next to his father’s bed, as if the sympathy attributed to them was only accessible within a certain time limit. Hinata watched his father’s daily meals go from intricate bentos and deserts to bland microwaved potato dinners. 

When he’d asked the nurses about the strange changes and missing aspects of his father’s room, they all replied with the same thing: “there’s a high demand for treatment right now” .

When Hinata was a child, he didn’t understand what the nurses meant by that. Now, he understood far too well. 

The hospital had already confirmed that his father was going to die. But instead of letting him spend his few remaining days in comfort, the nurses had decided that his resources were better off being allocated to another, higher-priority patient. 

To them, dad was already a dead man from the moment he was admitted .

Hinata hated hospitals. They felt so soulless, so empty–not just because of their bland white walls and suffocating hallways, but because of the people inside them. Hinata wondered if the nurses felt safer when they were hiding behind their identical blue surgical masks–if not being recognizable or distinguishable from their peers absolved them from some of the moral culpability of dehumanizing their patients. 

Deep down inside, Hinata didn’t blame the nurses for their actions. After all, demand  for treatment was high, and from a realistic standpoint, it made more sense to save the patient that had a higher chance of survival rather than the one that was already lying on his deathbed. 

Hinata just didn’t like how easily they made that decision. 

Yet, selfishly, Hinata now prayed that Kageyama was one of the luckier patients that the nurses had decided to prioritize over the others. One of the lucky patients that still had a chance of survival. 

Of course he does. Kageyama wouldn’t die like this. A little bit of blood loss wouldn’t kill the King of the Court. 

Finally– finally –the nurse stops in front of one of the myriad rooms lined up sporadically along the endless hallway. 

Room 125A. Tobio Kageyama. 

Hinata’s heart does a little somersault when he reads the name. If Kageyama’s name is still here, that means so is he. And if he’s still here, that means that he’s still okay, and the nurses did something right, and Kageyama is fine. 

The nurse creaks the door open. And Hinata’s delighted heart hits the bottom of his chest with a low thunk . 

The entire room is dimly lit, except for the one bright light shining down onto Kageyama’s sleeping body. He looks so peaceful–so content–and Hinata wouldn’t think anything was wrong with him if he hadn’t looked down. 

Hinata’s tremulous fingers trace Kageyama’s arm; it’s wrapped in bandages, but underneath the gauze Hinata can make out a series of unruly purple bruises blossoming against Kageyama’s pale skin. They seem to cover Kageyama’s entire body, trailing all the way up to his collarbone.

Each bruise gradually merges into a festering cut, and Hinata now sees where the blood is coming from; it’s not as severe as the bruising, but the dark red liquid still drips down Kageyama’s arms and stains the white bedsheets red. 

The nurse clicks her tongue, rummaging through a cart in the dark corner of the room. “Looks like we’ll need to change the bandages again. This is the third time since he came in here.”

“Wha-What’s wrong with him?” Hinata stammers, gently reaching out to graze Kageyama’s sleeping face with his finger. The nurse gently takes his wrist and moves it away from Kageyama, shifting in front of Hinata to change Kageyama’s bandages. 

Takeda-sensei is frozen in shock next to Hinata. When Hinata had called him and he’d arrived at the gym, the bleeding hadn’t been nearly as bad; in fact, most of the blood had been coughed up by Kageyama, it hadn’t come from his body. This–this was unfathomable. 

The nurse finally retracts from Kageyama’s body, wiping her forehead as she admires her handiwork. Almost instantly, a flower of red blossoms on one of Kageyama’s legs again. She sighs, defeated, and turns to the two of them. 

“Why does he have so many injuries?!”  Hinata can’t suppress his panic. “Where did these all come from?!”

“Kageyama,” the nurse begins, and Hinata can already sense the pitiful tone in her voice. “Has a rare condition. He’s been diagnosed with hemophilia.”

“But–” Takeda suddenly interjects, seizing Hinata’s attention. “That’s impossible!  Hemophilia is a genetic disorder, isn’t it?” 

“In most cases, yes.” The nurse says, stepping back. “However, under certain conditions, a person can develop hemophilia later in life. That’s what’s happened to Kageyama.”

“Hold on–” Hinata holds out his hands to the both of them, trying to reign his screaming thoughts back in. “Hemo–what now?” 

“Hemophilia is a bleeding disorder that prevents your blood from clotting as it typically does because your body lacks the sufficient blood-clotting proteins”, the nurse explains grimly. “Kageyama has some external injuries, but the majority of the bleeding is happening from within his body–internal bleeding.” She turns back to Hinata. “When he started bleeding, was he coughing up a lot of blood?” 

Hinata nods, but it feels like the gravity of the situation has lifted him up and held him floating. He feels like a hawk on a crag; his feet are on the ground, but his mind is trembling fragilly, levitating up to the sky.

Everything in the room besides Kageyama in the bed in front of him seems to blur–the nurse’s words sound distant, as if she’s speaking from miles away. Hinata reaches out again to Kageyama, gripping his hand gently. This time, the nurse doesn’t stop him. 

He can only barely make out the words that the nurse is saying to Takeda-sensei. “Severe level… organ damage… life-threatening.”

Life-threatening. 

Kageyama is going to die.

Kageyama is going to leave me. 

Kageyama is never going to set to me again. 

Kageyama will never race me up the stairs again.

Kageyama is going to die.

Kageyama is going to die.

What would Hinata do without Kageyama? Would he have to get a new setter? What if they weren’t able to set the ball as high, or as perfect as Kageyama? Would Hinata have to sit out? Would Hinata no longer be able to play volleyball? 

What about their promise? Their pledge to race each other to the top, to be the last one standing? Would that all be forgotten? 

I love you, Hinata thinks. You can’t leave me. You can’t. 

“I-Is there any kind of cure?” Takeda stammers. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but… preferably a fast one? You see, Kageyama’s a volleyball player and he’s got a national tournament in a few weeks and–”

“A few weeks, you say?” The nurse murmurs, massaging the silver ring on her fingers as if the action will somehow ameliorate the situation. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure if the circumstances will allow for that.”

Time, which was rushing past Hinata at light-speed only seconds ago, suddenly slows to a cumbersome pace. It’s as if Hinata’s senses are slogging through mud, each word that the nurse says causing him to sink further and further into the darkness. 

“The internal bleeding isn’t just occurring anywhere. It’s most prominent in his brain–an intracranial hemorrhage. Fixing smaller-scale bleeding would be feasible for us, but the brain is the most sensitive organ in the body–not to mention, our hospital is too underfunded. I’m afraid we don’t have any of the necessary resources to treat Kageyama at this time.”

“So–” Takeda chokes on his words. 

“At this rate,” the nurse says softly, not bothering to decorate her words in euphemisms. “Kageyama may not live to see the nationals. I’m sorry.”

Hinata’s heartstrings all simultaneously dry up and snap in half. 

“It’s that severe…” The look painting Takeda’s face is twisted into a dejected expression more broken than anything Hinata has ever seen him make.

“But…” the nurse begins, and both Hinata and Takeda snap to attention. 

“There is a small chance for recovery. One that doesn’t require exorbitant medical technology to perform surgery on Kageyama’s brain.” 

Hinata grabs the nurse by the shoulders, forgetting all basic societal standards of social distancing and courtesy. She yelps and Takeda scrambles to separate them, but Hinata grips on tight. 

“Can you save Kageyama?” A chance. Any chance. Please. 

The nurse calmly takes Hinata’s hands in her own, staring into his eyes. Even though she’s wearing a mask, Hinata feels like just the glimmer in her eyes is enough to understand her true intentions; her genuine, true hope to grant his wish. 

The nurse grabs a clipboard off the table next to Kageyama’s desk, and shows it to the two of them. 

“Kageyama is losing blood at an alarming rate now. If this continues, his heart may stop pumping and other organ failure may occur. In that case, Kageyama may even enter a coma, and possibly…. Nevermind that. However–”

The nurse points to a table on the clipboard which is filled with a large collection of numbers and letters that Hinata has no idea how to read. He squints a bit closer, and a few words pop out to him–BLOOD TEST RESULTS: KAGEYAMA TOBIO.

“Kageyama’s blood test results are back. He’s a type AB-. Internal brain bleeding is probably the most severe case, but luckily for us, the situation has yielded two options. Either we perform extensive surgery on Kageyama’s brain, which is unfortunately unattainable for us at the moment, or–”

The nurse displays the syringe with Kageyama’s blood to the two of them like it contains holy water. 

“We find Kageyama a blood donor. Someone who is able to mitigate the bleeding in his brain to an extreme degree, even without completely stopping it. That way, Kageyama can still recover and work towards living a normal life again.”

“That’s great!”  Takeda jumps up; there’s a strange thin quality in his voice–a wavery exuberance, as if he’s not sure whether or not he’s actually celebrating good news. Still, it seems to be better than the impression that they were under before; the thought that Kageyama’s condition was incurable. 

“...There’s only one problem.” Both Hinata and Takeda turn to her again. 

“Matching compatibility. Kageyama’s blood type, AB-, is the rarest blood type in the world–only about one-percent of the world’s population has it. Even I was surprised when the results came back. Unfortunately, I’m not sure if the hospital even has the means to track down a blood type so rare, and I doubt anyone would willingly volunteer to donate such a large amount of blood for a stranger…”

The fleeting moment of happiness that had filled the room dissipates in an instant. Takeda slumps back down against a visitor chair, all the energy drained from his body. “So that’s it, then. We’re all out of options.” The nurse nods solemnly.

Neither of them notice the way Hinata’s stomach tightens, the way his breath grows sharp.  The animated bubbling sensation churning in his stomach, causing the redhead to grab his chest in an attempt to prevent his lungs from exploding–

–in relief.

Takeda finally notices his peculiar expression. “Hinata?” The nurse’s eyes flick to him in confusion as well. 

“I… can…” Hinata’s voice doesn’t come through for a moment. It’s as if all of the devastating emotions that he’s been holding back the past few minutes have ripped his throat apart, preventing him from speaking when he finally wants to. 

I’m scared . Not just for Kageyama, but for himself, too. The fear of death, of injury, of the repercussions of going through with something like this. 

Hinata’s pupils flare. Inside the chambers of his mind, he imagines grabbing those claws with his hands, yanking them out of his throat, throwing them away to the back of his mind where all of his other self-deprecating thoughts reside. 

I can do this. I can do this. 

I can save Kageyama.

Hinata glances back up at them, a newfound ferocity blazing in his eyes. An unwavering hesitation. 

“I’m type AB- as well. I’ll be Kageyama’s blood donor.” 

~ ~ ~

Kageyama dreams of the sun. 

Grass tickling his face, a thin draft sweeping across a field. He sits up, blinking his weary eyes, allowing them to adjust to the light. 

A rice field. Why the hell is he in a rice field? Kageyama rubs his eyes again, trying to remember what he was doing before he woke up. Amidst his confusion the morning haze sets in around him, drenching him in light, wrapping him in a warm golden blanket. 

Kageyama suddenly feels tired again. He wants to sleep more. Maybe he should. 

“Kageyama,”

His eyes flutter closed again.

“Kageyama,”

His back meets the slightly scratchy, yet strong and supportive bed of rice stalks.

“Kageyama,”

Who’s calling him? Can’t they see he’s trying to sleep?

“Kageyama,”

“Wake up,”

“Wake up, Kageyama”

“BAKAGEYAMA!”

Kageyama’s senses shock him awake, and he gasps, sitting up straight. Kageyama is no longer in a wheat field. He is in a hospital cot, in a hospital room, surrounded by blank, empty walls. A single potted daisy sits next to his cot. The old analog clock on the opposite wall shudders with every movement of its arms. 

3:03 AM. 

Kageyama shuts his eyes. Opens them. Then, he finally glances to the left of his cot, where his instincts, as always, are correct. Someone is watching him. 

A pair of impossibly large brown eyes stare back at him. 

“You’re alive!”  

Almost instinctively Kageyama jumps back in surprise, conveniently forgetting the fact that he’s sitting on a two-foot-wide hospital cot, not standing. Kageyama nearly falls head first off the bed before Hinata leaps out and grabs his wrist with that freak-reaction time of his. 

“Don’t hurt your head again. It was already enough of a pain-in-the-ass to fix it the first time.”

Kageyama shuts his eyes. Opens them. 

Something is wrong.

The hospital room is empty. Clean. Normal. Kageyama shouldn’t be having such a hard time adjusting to everything here.

Then, why does he feel so disoriented?

“Hinata,” he mumbles, grabbing onto the redhead with both hands which makes the latter flinch in surprise.“My head. What’s wrong with my head?”

“You–” Hinata’s words catch in his throat. He looks away reluctantly for a split second, and that’s all Kageyama needs to fuel his horror. 

In almost an instant, they’re both on the floor; Hinata is pinned under Kageyama, and Kageyama breathing heavily, panicked, is looming above him. Hinata stares into the opaque blackness of his pupils; there’s only one emotion that fills every inch of Kageyama’s eyes.

Fear.

“I can’t–” Kageyama suddenly stumbles off of Hinata, now using both of his hands to clutch his skull. “My–My thoughts. They’re all – all m-messed up, everything is too – too bright – I can’t – why–”

Hinata’s eyes flash open in fear. Kageyama has entered self-destruct mode. Takeda had warned him of something like this happening as soon as the raven woke up, but Hinata didn’t think it’d be this bad. It made sense, though–Kageyama, who was so used to his brilliant, brilliant brain, suddenly woke up with a broken one. Anyone would feel mortified after such an experience.

Of course, only temporarily broken. I’ll fix it soon. 

Kageyama is now crumpled into a ball on the ground, blood-curdling screams ripping out of his throat as he continues clutching his head. His eyes are crazed, unfocused, his pupils dilated; Hinata is frozen in place, horrified. He’s never seen Kageyama like this before.

Kageyama’s brain is a mess. It’s like every single nerve in his head has decided to revolt, spasming and bouncing against his skull like thousands of tiny needles piercing his scalp. He claws, pulls, yanks at his hair, screaming, screaming, screaming. 

Makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopomakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstopmake–

Orange. Warmth. Embrace. 

Hinata has Kageyama’s head buried in his chest. Hinata has his arms around Kageyama. Hinata’s face is buried into Kageyama’s shoulders. 

Hinata squeezes Kageyama so tightly that it starts to hurt enough for Kageyama to momentarily forget about the mind-numbing pain from his aching head. 

“What’s wrong with me, Hinata?” He murmurs, unable to muster up the energy to say anything else. 

“Nothing,” is all Hinata whispers in response. “You’re perfect.”

“Liar,” Kageyama murmurs back, but the pain fogging his brain makes him faint in Hinata’s arms. 

Hinata keeps hugging the taller boy to death, even after his body goes limp in his arms. It feels as if  when Hinata lets him go, Kageyama will start screaming again, and the pain will start again. 

Hinata hates seeing Kageyama in pain. 

“You’re perfect,” he repeats through muffled, broken tears, burying his face into Kageyama’s shoulder until he can’t breathe.

The bitter breath of truth, of reality, hangs between them. Untouched. Unaccepted.

~ ~ ~

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three,” Kageyama replies without hesitation. The nurse nods approvingly. Hinata deliberately mimics her. 

The nurse–who Hinata later learns is named Akane–has officially signed on to be Kageyama’s personal caretaker. Ever since Kageyama woke up a few days ago, she’s been dedicating hours on end to trying to help him overcome his brain trauma. 

“Is there still pain?” She asks Kageyama gently, trusty clipboard ready.

“Sometimes,” Kageyama replies gruffly. “It comes in short spurts, mainly at the front of my head. It usually dies down after a few minutes, but the short period of time when it is there is pretty painful.”

Akane notes Kageyama’s words thoughtfully. “And is there anything that would help mitigate the pain? A song? A book?” A person? She thinks.

“No,” is Kageyama’s pithy response.

Neither of the boys catch the way Akane’s eyes flicker to Hinata for a split second, before quickly returning to Kageyama.

“Thank you, Kageyama. I hope your recovery continues going well. I’m going to speak with Hinata for a moment.” The raven nods listlessly, turning back over in his bed. 

As soon as the door closes, Akane turns to face Hinata.

“Hinata, I hope you realize just how large the scale of your actions is. You saved his life.”

Hinata shoots her a toothy grin. “Of course!  I can’t have him dying before I beat him on the court.”

Akane laughs warmly. “I suppose I’ll never understand this fascinating rivalry between you too. On a separate note–” a somber expression unfolds on her face. She regards Hinata with an anxious gaze.

“Are you doing okay? That was an extremely demanding blood transfer. It turns out that we needed a lot more blood than originally anticipated to just fill the deepest canals in Kageyama’s brain. Your transfusion was nearly an hour long.”

“I’m fine!” Hinata replies quickly. “Even after the whole thing, I still feel completely normal. I’m an athlete, so my body is probably full of extra blood!”  He laughs heartily. Akane doesn’t. 

“Are you sure?” She pushes. Hinata looks her in the eyes–he was never great at reading people but even he can tell that she’s worried for him. For his well being. 

“Of course.” This time, Hinata doesn’t attempt to drench his words in false enthusiasm. He just beams up at Akane. “If I’m not feeling well, I’ll tell you. Don’t worry!”

Distrust still lurks in the depths of Akane’s eyes, but she probes no further. She excuses herself, leaving Hinata standing alone in the hallway in front of Kageyama’s room alone. 

Only then does Hinata allow himself to throw up all over the hospital floor. 

Hinata’s entire head is swimming. The weary bitterness that has been fogging his brain for the past hour finally overcomes him, and Hinata staggers to his feet, barely able to support himself on his legs.

He’s exhausted. Every single limb on his body, including his spine, feels like jelly. Is this really what it feels like to donate blood? 

“Suck it up, Shoyo.” Mustering up the few drops of courage he has left in his veins, Hinata bites down on his lip. Hard. The brief flare of pain, the taste of iron on his tongue, forces Hinata awake again. “It’s all for Kageyama. You can handle this.”

That’s right. This kind of exhaustion is nothing compared to the mental torture the raven was dealing with only a few hours ago. If Kageyama can handle it, then so can Hinata. For Kageyama’s sake. 

It takes the redhead an embarrassing amount of effort to make his way to the restroom, grab six handfuls of paper towels, and clean up his vomit on the floor. Hinata checks his watch. 7:04 AM. Nearly time for school to start. He’d spent the entire night in the hospital with Kageyama. 

“I better… get to school.” Hinata drags himself along, propping himself up against the wall. Every step he takes feels like slogging through quicksand. Hinata’s legs have never felt this heavy; he’s always been praised for having inhumane stamina, but for the first time, Hinata imagines he’s probably feeling the same fatigue that his teammates feel at the end of an exhausting game, like their five-set match against Shiratorizawa. A slight pang of empathy  flashes through Hinata’s chest for his teammates. 

Still, Hinata refuses to give up. It’s thirty steps to the hospital door. Then, an additional ten steps to the road, where he’ll call a taxi. Then he’ll be at school.

Hinata’s teeth bury even deeper into his bottom lip. Alright, let’s do this.

“Hinata?”

Hinata freezes. Which isn’t hard, because he wasn’t really moving that much at all.

“K-Kageyama,” he says weakly, tilting his head to wave. “I’m about to go to school. You should keep resting up–I’m sure Takeda-sensei has already told everyone in the club about your situation.”

“Are you okay?”

Hinata’s chest tightens. It’s almost impossible for him to resist the urge to abandon all reason, to run over to Kageyama and hug him again like he did last night. There–in Kageyama’s embrace–was where Hinata had felt the safest, albeit the fact that he was the one comforting Kageyama at the time. 

“Yeah. Just tired. Didn’t get much sleep last night, thanks to you.” He retorts jokingly.

Luckily, Kageyama isn’t as meticulous as Akane when it comes to seeing through Hinata’s white lies–perhaps because his brain is still trying to recover from the transfusion. He just scoffs, his expression inscrutable as he throws a black club jacket in Hinata’s face. “Wear this. The hallways here are cold.”

Hinata remains silent for a moment, the jacket positioned haphazardly on his head, before belatedly pulling it off and shooting Kageyama a controlled grin–one with just the right mixture of weariness and enthusiasm. 

“See you soon, Kageyama.”

Hinata turns and walks away. Every step he takes brings him a bit farther away from Kageyama’s burning stare, and a sinking, empty feeling begins to germinate in Hinata’s stomach.

Hinata doesn’t want to leave. He wants to stay here, with Kageyama, and help him get better–

–he doesn’t stop walking. 

He knows if he does, he’ll never be able to leave.

~ ~ ~

As soon as Hinata walks through the clubroom, his teammates swarm him like bees to honey. 

“Is Kageyama alright?!”  Asahi exclaims. 

“Takeda-sensei told us what happened. Did he really collapse?” For some reason, Noya is wearing Tanaka’s pants, which are on backwards. Hinata stifles a laugh. 

“What’s wrong with the king?” Tsukishima looms from overhead. 

“Everyone, let’s give Hinata some space.” An empty lane forms around Coach Ukai among the players, like Moses parting the sea. “Hinata, what happened?”

All eyes snap to the shortest player in the room. Hinata fidgets with his hands, picks at his nails–a bad habit he resorts to whenever he gets anxious. 

“T-The nurse diagnosed him with something called hemo–himo–ph-philio or something like that–”

“Hemophilia.” Takeda weaves through the crowd. Hinata thinks, Moses 2.0 . “Kageyama’s got a pretty intense case, too. He’s doing fine right now, but he might not be able to return to playing for a while.”

Tanaka’s eyes flit to Hinata for confirmation. The redhead nods solemnly. 

“How terrible,” Kiyoko says softly in the corner. “He doesn’t deserve this.”

Soft and bitter, an air of silence passes like an invisible cloud. The one who breaks the silence, surprisingly, is none other than Tsukishima. 

“It’s a pity that the king can’t play with us for now, but he wouldn’t want his subjects to stop toiling in the fields while they wait for his recovery.” 

“Tsukishima’s right.” Daichi seems to have broken out of his shock as well, clapping to try and bring everyone else back. “Nationals is just around the corner. Let’s support Kageyama by training hard, and being an even better team when he returns.”

“Right!”  The team shouts in unison. Takeda sighs in relief. Coach Ukai only surveys the team proudly from where his arms are crossed at the side of the crowd. 

For the next hour, practice is conducted as usual. 

Spiking practice is first; Suga sets for Hinata this time instead of Kageyama. 

Next is a few laps around the neighborhood; Hinata runs at his normal, freakishly-fast pace, panting in exhilaration and glee as he whips around to gloat at Kageyama for being faster. Of course, there is no Kageyama to gloat at. 

The neighborhood association visits at the end of practice and offers a practice game, which the team eagerly accepts. They win by the skin of their teeth. At some point, Hinata’s legs lose the motivation to jump. 

Nobody dares to address it–the ugly, hulking elephant in the room, shivering ominously in the corner of the gym–but everyone can feel it anyways. 

The bottomless, gaping hole that is Kageyama’s absence. 

If Karasuno could be described as muscle fibers, then Kageyama–being the setter, the team’s beacon and tower of control–was the one to rip apart those muscle fibers, to rebuild them to be even stronger every time he forced them to push themselves to the limits. Not just in games, but in practice too. 

Suga tried the best he could to fill the hole that Kageyama left, but he was a different talent; Suga was reliable, and familiar. He operated at a smooth, constant pace, giving his players the same sets that they had spiked over and over again. 

Kageyama, on the other hand, was always trying new things during practice. At some point, the rest of the team had gotten used to his constantly evolving being, and had raised their own standards to match him. Now, forcibly slowed down to Suga’s orthodox pace, the rhythm of the entire team felt off. 

A numbing thought began to cross Hinata’s brain. What if the blood he gave wasn’t enough? What if Kageyama didn’t get better in time to go to the nationals? 

What if Kageyama never got better at all?

“Ow!”  A rough hand slapped Hinata across the back of his head. He involuntarily pivoted to glare at his unknown offender. “What giv-”

“You’re daydreaming again, Hinata.” 

Hinata blinks a few times, his mind clearing again. “Suga-san.” 

The silver-haired third-year smiles at him. “The whole team feels the same way you do. Kageyama is undeniably a genius, and an irreplaceable character on our team.” Hinata feels a sodden sadness swell up inside him like a cold, frigid wave in the dark; he bites his lip to stop himself from quivering. Suga notices, and gently rests his hand on his junior’s shoulder. 

“But he’s not gone forever. He’ll be back soon, and on the bus with us to nationals before you know it. I may not be Kageyama–” A ball suddenly comes flying towards them from the other side of the court where Asahi is blocked by Tsukishima. Hinata shouts a warning, but Suga doesn’t even bother turning around. With one hand, his thin fingers make contact with the ball and send it flying right back to Asahi–a perfect set. Asahi gives him an enthusiastic thumbs-up in approval.

“–but I’m still a damn good setter. Don’t you agree?”

The frigid wave building inside Hinata crashes to the ground, replaced by a warm, peaceful tide sloshing within. Hinata can’t help but laugh. 

“Yeah, Suga-san!”

The third-year setter smiles. “Good. Now, get yourself back in the game Hinata. You’ve missed three spikes already.”

“Yes!”

~ ~ ~

“The hell are you doing, dumbass?”

Hinata is in the process of decorating Kageyama’s entire hospital room with red omamori amulets. He’s strewn them on the windows, the walls, and even above the door frame where they hit a spluttering, red-faced Akane in the face.

“W-What is all this?” Akane struggles to separate the countless red streamers and talismans from her dark brown bangs as she surveys the state of the room. “How anachronistic…”

“They’re omamori amulets!  For good luck!”  Hinata exclaims, pinning another amulet right above Kageyama’s scowling face. “I also brought oranges!”  The slightly overwhelmed look painting Akane’s face does not change. Kageyama helps her by jabbing a finger to the corner of the room, where an enormous pile of oranges lies in a heap on the floor.

“Those won’t even work, idiot. Oranges are a Chinese good-luck sign.”

“Shut up, Bakagemaya!  You never know!”

Akane clears her throat, fixing her hair and regaining her composure. “A-Anyways. Kageyama, your test results just came back.” At her words, both boys immediately snap to attention.

“Fortunately, most of the bleeding has been mitigated with the blood transfusion. You should–and I emphasize the “should” as much as possible, because you’ll still need to be extremely cautious–but you should be able to return to playing in a few days.”

“Yes!”  Both boys shout, causing a brief smile to flicker over the nurse’s face before she returns to professionalism.

“However, you will still need to return to the hospital every few days to continue receiving blood transfusions. The bleeding has been mitigated, but this is only a temporary solution.” 

All the enthusiasm swirling inside Hinata suddenly comes crashing down as he realizes he’ll need to do another blood donation. The images of throwing up on his bedroom floor in the middle of the night, collapsing in the bathroom, and nearly falling off his bike on the way to school still cycle vividly in his head. Still, Hinata is willing to bite his tongue through the pain.

“So…” Kageyama says hesitantly. “Is there any long-term solution?”

“Thankfully, there is.” Akane gives Kageyama a fond look. “Your Takeda-sensei helped collect some donations from neighboring towns, and he’s raised enough money for us to afford some state-of-the-art equipment to perform a surgery on your brain. That should seal up the bleeding for good, and we can also search for some medication to put you on in case the hemophilia turns chronic.”

Hinata feels himself relax inside, like an unclenching fist. He wants to track Takeda-sensei down at his house, tackle him to the floor, and hug him. Leave it to their senpai to pull through for them in the end. 

Kageyama doesn’t seem to share Hinata’s elated perspective. “Then, why do I still need to do the blood transfusions?” He asks. “If I’m already going to get the surgery? I don’t want to put any more stress on my donor.”

At that, Hinata flinches, yet simultaneously revels in pleasure at the same time. My donor . Kageyama is worried about him. The mere realization lights a fire in the depths of Hinata’s heart.

“Although we’ve raised enough money to afford the equipment, it won’t arrive for another few months–most likely after you begin playing at nationals.” Akane explains plaintively. “That’s why you must continue taking blood donations at this time–if you don’t consistently make up for the blood you’re losing, then your body may not be treatable by surgical methods when the time comes.”

Kageyama nods passively–this answer satisfies him. Hinata breathes a short sigh of relief. Suddenly, the setter speaks again.

“Then, please tell my donor–if they choose to continue the transfusions–that I’m grateful for them. They’ve saved my life.”

Akane smiles foxily, her eyes flashing to a blushing Hinata. “Will do. In any case, I no longer have anything to say to you. I’ll leave you two alone.” The brunette leaves the room. Hinata and Kageyama are alone again.

“...Want an orange?” Hinata attempts to break the silence.

The raven says nothing for a moment. Then he grunts in affirmation. Hinata runs to get a peeler.

Hinata eats so many oranges that he’s sure his skin is probably tinted the same yellowish color as the peels by now. Kageyama laughs at him for nearly throwing up when he chokes on his third orange seed, and Hinata responds by squeezing orange juice in the setter’s face. Kageyama demands that he take the omamori amulets down several times because “they’re an absolute eyesore”, but Hinata refuses. By the time Hinata checks the clock again, it’s already past 10 PM. 

“You should get going now,” Kageyama says. “Don’t you have a mountain to bike over?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Hinata rises from his chair next to Kageyama’s bed, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Before leaving, he casts a backward glance back to the raven.

“Can I show you something before I leave? It’ll be really quick.” 

Kageyama looks like he wants to immediately refuse, but something in Hinata’s eyes stops him. After a huff of rejection for good measure and a couple more oranges, Hinata manages to drag Kageyama out of his cot.

They walk for a good fifteen minutes until they finally reach their destination; an abandoned overpass overlooking the entire city. 

“What is this place?” Kageyama murmurs, trailing his fingers along the vine-infested concrete structure. 

“I stumbled across it one day taking a new route to school.” Hinata beams. “Look, down below.”

Kageyama does. The view nearly steals a gasp from his lips. 

Underneath them is the entire prefecture, splayed out before them like a vast ocean of twinkling gems. Kageyama can’t tell where the city ends and the horizon begins. Everything melts together; the stars in the sky, the lights of the city down below, into one seamless canvas. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Hinata whispers.

Kageyama doesn’t reply for a bit, too focused on drinking in the sight before him. Then, he looks over his shoulder at Hinata. 

“Why did you bring me here?” 

“Well, you were cooped up in your room all day.” Hinata replies simply. “Thought you might need some fresh air.” 

Silence, again, occupies the space between them. A welcomed, appropriate silence for the moment that they’re currently sharing. 

“Kageyama,” Hinata says suddenly, breaking the stillness. “Have you ever been in love?”

Kageyama casts a glance of surprise at Hinata. The redhead continues to stare out into the city, ensorcelled in his own thought.s 

“With something besides volleyball, of course.” Hinata adds. Kageyama scoffs, but stuffs his hands into his pockets and looks up at the glimmering sky as he seems to think about his answer. 

“No. I haven’t.”

“Would you like to, someday?” Hinata’s follow-up is almost instantaneous. 

In the darkness, the silence, their eyes meet. Hinata’s emotions swell up like a balloon, and it feels like they are pushing Kageyama away, keeping him at a safe distance. Despite that, Hinata feels the temptation to reach out to the black-haired first-year. 

“It depends.” Kageyama says with unexpected softness.

“Depends on what?” Hinata pushes further. 

“On the person I might fall in love with.” There is no hesitation in Kageyama’s voice. Hinata finds himself smiling.

“What about you?” Kageyama asks. “Would you like to fall in love someday?” 

Hinata debates on how to respond for a brief moment. Then:

“I think I already have.” 

Kageyama offers no response. 

The beautiful city beneath them winks under the glow of the moon, illuminating their faces in a pale veneer of light. 

Hinata stares into the darkness, searching for Kageyama’s gaze, subconsciously wondering if the darkness around him can swallow them up and keep them there forever. 

~ ~ ~

The day Kageyama walks through the entrance of the gym again is the day that every single muscle fiber in the room bursts in excitement. Practice resumes at a pace twice as fast as usual–everyone is dripping in anticipation to hit one of Kageyama’s killer ultimate-precision spikes again.

Everyone in the gym is operating at twice the speed. Except for Hinata, who’s operating two times slower than usual. 

Hinata feels sluggish; or simply put, he feels like shit. It’s as if his mind and body are two separate entities; his heavy feet drag him along the gym floor, moaning every time he jumps. Meanwhile, his mind is hazy, unfocused, floating above everyone else. It watches as Kageyama tosses another set that Hinata yet again, fails to jump for. 

It’s when the seventh missed ball passes in a perfect parabola-shape above Hinata’s head that Ukai calls him over to the bench. Hinata makes his way over, not noticing the sharp blue eyes trailing his body.

Even jogging to the bench is a struggle. By the time Hinata reaches the coach, he wants nothing more than to collapse on the bench and crash out. It’s a foreign, strange desire–Hinata has always avoided the bench as if it reeked of dead fish. Sitting on the bench was like inadvertently admitting that he no longer wanted to play volleyball, a combination of words that had never dared leave Hinata’s mouth.

To Hinata’s horror, in his current half-drunken, woozy state of mind, he was actually beginning to consider it.

“Something wrong, Hinata?” Coach Ukai’s words are filled with gentle admonishment; Hinata can tell that the coach is genuinely concerned for his well being, but is also reminding Hinata that now of all times–a day before nationals–is not the time to be slacking off.

“Sorry, coach. I just didn’t get much sleep last night.” Even Hinata’s voice comes out raspy and gravelly, like he’s just taken a drag. Ukai peruses the redhead for a moment, and Hinata feels a shiver run down his spine. He internally prays that the coach will buy his excuse.

To Hinata’s relief, Ukai sighs and rubs the back of his head. “Just get some sleep tonight. Tomorrow’s the big day.” Hinata wrings out his last drops of energy to nod vehemently, bow to the coach, and run back onto the court. Good, he doesn’t suspect me .

Yesterday’s transfusion had been brutal. Transfusions were always taken in a tiny, cramped room, with a single hospital cot and a tiny light that shone directly in Hinata’s eyes, preventing him from falling asleep. Yesterday’s donation had also lasted for an entire hour; the whole time, Hinata had nothing else to do but stare weakly at his arm as he watched a dark, thick liquid rush unceasingly from the puncture in his arm to the several plastic bags hanging next to his cot. 

Hinata hated doing transfusions. Not only were they unbearable during the actual extraction process, but they also made him feel exhausted afterwards, and impeded his ability to do well during practice. 

Hinata hated it.

But he had to do it.

For–

–Kageyama?

Why do you have to suffer for him?

It’s not like he’ll like you for it, even if he finds out.

That didn’t matter to Hinata. Even if Kageyama didn’t reciprocate his feelings, Hinata was still his teammate. That was reason enough to save him.

Why does it have to be you? 

Takeda-sensei donated to the hospital. They could use some of those funds to hire another donor.

Hinata’s blood type. Kageyama’s blood type. AB-. It’s the rarest in the world.

1% of the population is still millions of people.

Why you?

Hinata is all Kageyama has. 

Don’t kid yourself. Anyone else with your blood type could do the same for Kageyama.

Hinata is all Kageyama needs.

Do you really want to help him? Or do you just want him to feel obligated to love you after he finds out?

Hinata just wants Kageyama to be safe.

You just want him to depend on you.

Hinata just wants Kageyama to be happy.

You obsessed, disgusting excuse for a friend.

Hinata–

Takes advantage of Kageyama’s vulnerability to trick him into loving you.

Hinata–

Never really thought of Kageyama as your rival.

“Shut up,” Hinata whispers. “Shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT U-”

A hand roughly shakes him back to consciousness. Hinata blinks, disoriented; the blinding lights of the gym penetrate his vision, blur his surroundings. When Hinata returns to his senses, he finds himself curled into a ball on the ground, Tanaka holding him nervously, the rest of the team crowded around him.

“Shoyo, you good?” Nishinoya pipes in from the sidelines, his worried expression mirrored by every other face in the circle.

“F-Fine.” Hinata uncharacteristically shoves Tanaka away, causing the second-year player to flinch. Maybe I really am tired.

Then, Hinata hears the horrifying six words that haunt him in his nightmares, grabbing him by his shirt, pulling him back before he can return to the court.

“I think you should sit out.”

Hinata’s piercing brown eyes bore into Coach Ukai’s. Still, there is no clemency in his senpai’s gaze. Ukai has no intention of letting him play again today. 

“But Coach – I –”

“Sit out.” A sinking feeling appears in Hinata’s stomach. A different voice this time, but one the spiker knows all too well. It’s the same voice he longs to hear praising him after every spike, every receive. It’s the voice that wafts through Hinata’s dreams every night, caresses every thought.

Kageyama turns, walking back to the court. Nothing left to say. After a fleeting moment of tension, the rest of the team disperses back to their respective positions on the court.

All except Hinata.

The redhead holds his tongue. He storms over to the bench, sits down wordlessly. Ukai sends him a worried glance, but doesn’t pry further.

On the outside, Hinata appears angry at the coach. At Kageyama. At the situation, being forced to sit out.

The truth is, Hinata is boiling with rage only for himself. His superhuman, unceasing stamina, the athletic capability that he’s always prided himself on, has failed him. The one characteristic that allows him to stand at the top with the other giants and prodigies like Kageyama. Without it, what is Hinata besides a wasted spot on the court?

That terrifying, dawning realization is what hangs around Hinata’s head for the rest of practice. It’s what follows him to school on his bike, over the mountain. It’s what plagues Hinata’s dreams as he curls up on his bed, drenched in a cold sweat, his body going numb as he loses himself to exhaustion and sleeps once more.

~ ~ ~

A loud banging wakes Hinata at 8 AM on a Sunday morning.

“Hinata boke!  Get your lazy ass up!”  

“Huh?” Hinata blinks the sleep out of his eyes, crawling out of his bed and throwing on one of Natsu’s old T-Shirts. He makes his way downstairs half-asleep, opening the front door mid-yawn. “Who–”

“Come outside.” Kageyama states vigorously. “We’re going to exercise.”

“On a Sunday morning?” Hinata feels like he wants to die. 

“Yes,” Kageyama nods with conviction. “I got tickets from Oikawa-san to an exclusive modern-day training space, but he gave me two tickets and he recommended I bring you so we can both maximize our gains.” 

“I–” Hinata never thought the day would come where he would hear Kaeyama say the word “gains”. “Sure, whatever. Gimme like, five minutes to get ready.”

Hinata plods back into the house and spends an extra three minutes sleeping for a bit longer. Then he brushes his teeth on the way down the stairs, throws on a pair of pants, and meets Kageyama outside. 

“So where exactly is this ‘exclusive modern-day training space’?” Hinata groans. 

Kageyama seems to straighten what Hinata has learned to interpret as his way of showing excitement. “You’ll see when we get there. I think you’ll like it.” 

– – –

Hinata did in fact like it. Kageyama, not so much. 

A screaming kid runs by with cotton candy stuck in her hair. A clown making balloon animals plays loud, obnoxious circus music near the entrance. In the distance, the screams of children echo across the park. 

“W-What…” Kageyama stutters, horrified. “Is this?” 

“An amusement park!”  Hinata exclaims, all his morning tiredness washed away as he leaps around in excitement. “Bakageyama, you have a sense of humor after all!  I really thought you were gonna drag me to some scary weightlifting gym or something!” 

“No – I –” Kageyama stammers, double-checking the tickets in his hands. “But Oik – Oikawa-san said that it was an exclusive gym that included entertainment–”

“I think the Great King managed to trick you, Kageyama!”  Hinata howls at the devastated look splayed across Kageyama’s face. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been to an amusement park before?” 

The few seconds of embarrassed silence from Kageyama are all Hinata needs to reach his conclusion.

“What?!  Are you even a teenager?!”

“S-Shut up!”  Kageyama exclaims, flustered, quickly hurrying to the entrance. “If Oikawa-san recommended this place to me, then there must be something we can learn from our experiences here. We have to explore further.”

Hinata considers telling Kageyama what the point of an amusement park is–to relax and not have to worry about learning–but decides that the situation is too hilarious to pass up. Instead, he follows Kageyama into the park.

They spend the first hour at the carnival games, where Kageyama seems to become more and more horrified as he falls to each succeeding carnival scam. The setter attempts to win the ladder game at least four times before giving up and angrily flipping off the poor carnival worker. 

“This is ridiculous!” he vents to Hinata, who’s dying trying to suppress his laughter. “What kind of games even are these?!  There’s no muscle or mind engagement at all!”

Then, they head to the rides. After interrogating another terrified worker about what ride is the most “intense” in the park, Kageyama and Hinata are pointed to a rollercoaster called “The Great King’s Wrath”. 

“This name feels a bit too coincidental,” Hinata mutters as they make their way over to the giant line snaking around the food trucks. “Anyways, Kageyama, do you really wanna wait this long for one rollercoaster?!”  

“Dumbass,” Kageyama snorts, dodging a punch from Hinata. “Everyone knows that quality is more important than quantity. We should be focusing on acquiring one challenging, actually educational experience, instead of wasting our time on all these other useless rides.”

And so, they wait. For three fucking hours. Hinata’s lower body is literally numb by the time they make it to the front of the line, and to Hinata’s horror, they end up being seated first on the entire coaster. 

“Um, Kageyama?” Hinata stammers as the workers strap them in. “I changed my mind. I’m not that great with rollercoasters. Can I get off now?”

“Shut up, Hinata boke!”  Kageyama barks. “If you can’t even handle a stupid ride, then how are you supposed to go against the scary teams at nationals?” 

Those were Kageyama’s famous last words as the coaster teetered menacingly on the edge of a straight vertical drop, and fell. 

By the time the ride is over, both Hinata and Kageyama are clutching their stomachs, keeled over on the ground next to the coaster. Hinata starts laughing. Kageyama keeps clutching his stomach. 

“That–” Kageyama gasps. “Never–again–”

“You–idiot–Bakageyama,” Hinata is alternating between tears of laughter and pain as he drags himself up. “Let’s go on another one!”

Before Hinata knows it, the sun is already beginning to set, and the congested state of the park is already beginning to thin out. Kageyama seems to have the same idea, as he checks his watch. “Let’s go. I’ve had enough training for today.”

They’re about to leave when something catches Hinata’s eye. He grabs Kageyama’s sleeve, pointing at the onsite arcade a few meters away. “Wait!  Can we try that before we leave?”

Kageyama looks like he wants to protest, but the coaster has drained too much of his energy. He just sighs and follows a bouncing Hinata into the arcade.

Hinata immediately gravitates towards a claw machine in the corner of the arcade filled with plushies. He jabs a finger at a tiny milk plushie in the corner of the machine. “Watch!  I’m gonna get that one!”

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “What makes you think that if I couldn’t win any of the games, you can? Idiot.”

Hinata did, in fact, win the plushie. On his second try.

“Wh–Wha–” Kageyama splutters as Hinata victoriously flaunts the plushie. 

“Ha!  Maybe I outrank you in technique in some areas after all!”

“W-Whatever.” Kageyama sorely turns to leave, but Hinata stops him. 

“Wait!  Take it!  I won it for you!”  

“Huh?” The setter stares down incredulously at the childish plushie that has just been stuffed in his arms. “What makes you think I want this?”

“Well,” Hinata starts with a devious grin that makes Kageyama want to punch him already. “You kept losing at the other games, and I could tell that you really wanted to win something. All those other games are rigged anyways, so just imagine that you won them and this is your prize.”

On that note, the spiker skips away, leaving Kageyama standing dumbfounded in the middle of the arcade, gaping down at the plushie. 

“Excuse me, young man?” A janitor calls from further inside the arcade. “Would you mind leaving now? We’re about to lock up.”

Kageyama shouts an apology to the janitor. He examines the plushie for a moment more, trying to dissect the foreign feeling worming its way inside his chest, before stuffing it in his bag and running after Hinata. He meets the redhead as they’re halfway to the entrance, melting in with the crowd of people who are also leaving. 

“So? How was your exercise today?” Hinata teases.

“Fine.” Kageyama replies, trying to hide the red tinting his cheeks. “I’ll ask Oikawa-san about it tomorrow. I think he may have miscommunicated the purpose of these tickets.”

Hinata snickers at that. “Ya thin–”

A sharp sensation suddenly wracks Hinata’s body, this time not from the rollercoaster. Hinata gasps in pain, collapsing to the ground as he claws at his throat.

I can’t breathe.

“Hinata?” Kageyama is at his side, regarding him with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Hinata tries to speak, but his throat constricts. All he can do is keep clawing, silently screaming, begging for oxygen. I can’t breathe.

The din surrounding Hinata seems to fade into nothingness. He sees Kageyama shouting something, probably asking a passerby to call the ambulance. Everything is light. Foggy. Hinata feels his body being lifted onto a stretcher, wheeled into somewhere dark and cramped. The ground begins to move. 

He barely notices the hand tightly clenching his, whispering encouraging words in his ears, telling him that it’s going to be okay. 

~ ~ ~

“Hinata?” 

A kind voice. A practiced, strained tone, drenched in pleasantries.

Not him. Not Kageyama.

Hinata’s eyes flutter open. 

Akane’s relieved eyes are staring down at him.

“Thank god. I was worried that you wouldn’t wake up for a while.”

Hinata sits up groggily, scanning his surroundings. He and Akane are alone in a hospital room. A bottle of IV drip is strapped to his arm. This scenery has become too familiar to Hinata in the past few days–these dull, lifeless walls, this off-putting chemical scent.

“I told Kageyama that you just collapsed because of exhaustion,” she says softly. “I know that you may not want to disclose the true reason to him just yet.” Hinata bobs his head gratefully. 

“However…” Akane scoots her chair closer so her face is just inches away from Hinata’s. “This situation is alarming. Hinata, are you sure that you want to continue doing the transfusions? It seems like the exhaustion is taking a huge toll on your body. You can stop any time–”

“No!”  Hinata suddenly cries, startling Akane. “I mean.. Sorry, but I’d like to continue.”

Akane regards Hinata with a tender, yet reluctant gaze. “May I ask why?”

Hinata’s fingers dig into the bedsheets of his cot. He meets Akane’s gaze, trying to convey the depth of his emotions to her from his eyes alone just like how she had on the day when they first met. 

To his relief, Akane seems to understand fully. She gives Hinata a benign smile, scooching her chair back to stand. “I see. Well then, I won’t pry any further. This is your choice, after all.”

As she takes her clipboard from the table next to Hinata’s desk and begins to walk away, she casts a glance over her shoulder one more time.

“I respect your decision, Hinata. However, I believe that it is my duty as a nurse to save as many lives as I can, and that includes yours. If I discover that your livelihood is being endangered because of your decisions, then I won’t hesitate to step in and stop you.”

With that, she closes the door behind her, leaving Hinata sitting silently in his cot.

Alone.

~ ~ ~

Red.

Thick, viscous, dark-red liquid swirls through the clear tubes, loops once over the operation table, flows into one of the countless plastic bags hanging next to Hinata’s cot.

Red.

Hinata’s vision, as his eyes dart back and forth, scanning the empty white walls caging him in for any source of repose.

Red.

Hinata’s veins, pulsing, draining. His trembling arms stilling and falling limp as numbness permeates his nerves, spreads from the puncture point in his left arm, crawls down Hinata’s chest, slides down his back, wraps around his neck.

Red.

The color of the bags as the apathetic nurse by the door switches out bag after bag, packets of Hinata’s rare blood tossed into a gradually overflowing crate.

Red .

The color of the clock hanging on the wall, the seemingly unmoving minute hand that Hinata begs to go faster.

Red.

Hinata’s dreams, as he fades in and out of consciousness. The unbearable, helpless feeling of being unable to move, to breathe–

–his lungs feel frozen. Broken–

Every single nerve in Hinata’s body rejects his wishes. Hinata wills his finger to twitch. It doesn’t.

Is this what it feels like to be dead? The few seconds before your life fades away, do you retain your consciousness, but not your control? Do you watch as your body bleeds away, or your loved one’s hug you, or flames lick at your flesh, and sit unable to do anything at all?

Hinata concludes that death is terrifying.

Red.

It surrounds Hinata, swallows him, flows into his mouth and cuts off his airways.

Red.

It paralyzes Hinata’s body, lashes him in place, chains him to his cot.

Red.

Somewhere amidst his silent screams, his painless suffering, Hinata prays that Kageyama never has to witness such a disgusting shade of red.

~ ~ ~

A ripple of laughter from the gym reaches Hinata’s ears. They’ve just beaten Nekoma–their third victory at nationals. The entire team is brimming with enthusiasm. Even though their match against Nekoma was their only match of the day, it feels as if they’ve won five matches in a row.

Their last dumpster battle. The first time the crows had managed to emerge victorious.

Hinata had excused himself from the group a bit early; he was now standing outside the stadium, staring vacantly up at the sky.

It was a beautiful day. The day had dawned clear, but now there were a few clouds–blotches of hazy white–dotting the sky. Hinata kept gazing up, ensorcelled by the light, fascinated by the curious flecks that he could see if he stared up at the empty blue–the defects of his own eyes.

He was about at his limit now–he could tell. Hinata had done well to hide his fatigue these past three matches, but every match they played felt like an additional ten kilograms were being placed on Hinata’s shoulders. 

Hinata felt like he could physically detect the emptiness in his veins. The lack of blood–the lack of oxygen flowing through his body–made every breath on the court feel laborious and heavy, as if Hinata had just run ten miles. 

Every jump strained his already weary, deteriorating muscles, affliction ripping down Hinata’s legs. Every shout turned his lungs dry and brittle, forcing Hinata to cough to prevent himself from choking on his own exhaustion. Every time Hinata received a ball that slammed directly onto the spots where he’d had his blood drawn, wicked pain shot through Hinata’s arms, reminding him of that suffocating numbness that he hated so much.

While Hinata’s body was exhausted, his mind was still operating at full throttle. If it was just pain, just fatigue, Hinata could handle it–he had gotten used to running on a below-empty tank.

And now they had another match tomorrow against Kamomedai, Hinata’s most anticipated opponent. At this point, Hinata’s blood-parched body was already begging him to stop, to get some more iron in his system or take a nice, long nap. 

But there’s no time for that. We’re so close to winning nationals. There’s no way I’m giving up now. 

Hinata’s phone buzzes, and he checks the notification. 

REMINDER, 5:00 P.M: BLOOD TRANSFUSION, TOKYO GENERAL HOSPITAL

A part of Hinata physically dies upon reading the notification. Right. Kageyama hadn’t gotten a blood transfusion in a few days, and he needed another one if he wanted to keep playing at his best.

“Oi, boke. What are you doing?”

The setter’s voice shocks Hinata back to reality. The redhead hastily stuffs his phone in his pocket, shooting Kageyama the practiced smile that he’s learned to use in order to mask his weariness. 

“Just wanted some fresh air!  The air in that gym is hella stuffy.”

Kageyama snorts, sitting down on the stadium steps next to him. “Guess you’re right about that.”

A comfortable silence passes between them. It’s a new phenomenon, something that has recently replaced the incessant screaming and fighting that they used to engage in whenever they were alone. To Kageyama, Hinata probably seems more mature–more bearable. Hinata is just too tired to fight with him now. 

“Are you okay?”

“Huh?” Hinata is unprepared for the question, so his voice pipes up like cracking eggshells into a horrid voice crack. Kageyama stifles a laugh, and Hinata breaks their peaceful mutual silence to glare at him and punch him in the arm for good measure.

Kageyama doesn’t stray from his original question, though. “You’ve been out of it these past few days.” 

Hinata isn’t sure how to respond. Kageyama still doesn’t know that Hinata is his blood donor, and Hinata doesn’t plan to tell him anytime soon. Unlike Hinata, Kageyama has been operating at peak condition for the past few days; he’s even able to utilize a tired, braindead Hinata to win games. Hinata refuses to mess up his impeccable concentration. 

“I’m just–”

“Just a bit tired?” Kageyama pulls the words from Hinata’s mouth. "You've been saying that a lot lately." The redhead flushes in embarrassment. 

“Whatever, Kageyama!  Don’t act like you don’t get tired after playing these crazy matches.”

“Just…” Kageyama starts, and Hinata’s eyes flicker over to him in curiosity.

“Tell me if there’s something wrong.” Kageyama blurts out unaccountably. “I mean, you’re one of our main offensive cannons on the court, and also our ultimate decoy, so if you’re not operating at your best then neither are a lot of our other players. Also, if you’re not feeling well then you can’t jump at your highest point and hit a quick set and if you’re feeling tired then it’s harder for you to do slide jumps or think clearly enough to do feints and you can only pull off those insane receives like you did with Inarizaki when you’re thinking clearly and you can only think clearly when you’re eating and sleeping enough so be sure to do that too or else – uh – yeah.”

Silence passes between the two players like an invisible cloud. A crow squawks above head. In the distance, a baby starts crying. 

Then Hinata bursts out laughing, and Kageyama starts flailing his hands around and stammering jumbled, unconnected words. “What I mean – I mean, what I mean is, y’know, I’ll kill you if you make us lose, idiot!  You little – You little shit, stop laughing —”

Hinata wipes tears from his eyes. “Hey, Kageyama, this is the first time I’ve ever seen you actually show that you’re worried about someone on our team!  What’s next, will you and Tsukishima start being best friends?” 

“Shut up!”  Hinata dodges an uppercut, hops over a leg sweep, and barely manages to evade a hand trying to grab his hair. Somewhere behind them, Daichi’s voice rings out and yells at them to stop fighting. Suga laughs, encouraging them to continue until they find a winner. Tsukishima looks like he wants to die. 

Soaking in the sounds of familiar voices, laughing under a blazing sun, a cloudless sea of burning haze painting the sky red, Hinata almost–almost–feels as if the weight on his back is lifted for just a few seconds.

And it’s the most amazing feeling in the world.

~ ~ ~

Hinata accompanies Kageyama to the hospital

under the false premise

of being able to “hold his hand if he gets scared”.

Kageyama scoffs

he doesn’t realize

that Hinata is the one

who is scared.

they separate

in the hallway

Kageyama thinks that Hinata will wait for him outside.

But Hinata goes

farther

into a room

with white walls

and a cot

and thirsty plastic bags

waiting to be filled.

The clock 

begins 

the red

appears 

and Hinata feels the terrifying sensation

of numbness

crawling all over his body

once more.

~ ~ ~

Akane is obligated to check-in with Hinata on a daily basis and ask him if he still wants to go through with the blood transfusions. According to her, there’s no way for the hospital to actually conclude if Hinata’s body is still suitable for further transfusions. 

What usually happens is that the donor will donate as much blood as they can, and once they reach a certain point of exhaustion where they know that going any further will be a harm to their own health, they tap out, even if that means that the recipient of their blood will suffer.

Hinata was supposed to have done that a few weeks ago. 

His condition has deteriorated exponentially. What used to be simple exhaustion has turned into Hinata waking up in the middle of the night and being too weak to drag himself to the bathroom. 

It’s turned into him hyperventilating uncontrollably after the slightest bit of exertion on his body, as if all the oxygen has been permanently sucked out of his lungs. 

It’s turned into a weary bitterness fogging Hinata’s brain, a yellow undertone tainting his skin, irregular heart palpitations, and splitting headaches that leave Hinata groaning in pain. 

On top of that, Hinata is tortured with an unaccountable dizziness and lightheadedness that follows Hinata throughout his day and even causes him to collapse during the slightest inconvenience. 

“You’re sick,” Suga declares as they eat breakfast the morning before they play Kamomedai. Hinata whirls towards his senpai with an irregular spurt of energy, desperate to cover up his condition, but Suga will have none of that. 

“Sit out for the first half of the Kamomedai game,” he admonishes. “We don’t want your condition getting any worse.”

“No!”  Hinata cries, causing the setter to flinch. “I can still play!  I’m just a bit tired!”

“Hinata–” Suga starts, but warmups have already started. Daichi catches wind of their conversation, and jogs over. 

“It’s alright, Suga. Hinata looks fine to me. Let him play for a bit, and we’ll pull him out if it looks like he’s having trouble.”

An ebullient expression appears on Hinata’s face at Daichi’s words. Suga looks concerned, but keeps quiet more. 

The whistle starts, and Hinata leaps to action. 

Hinata is on fire , and the best part is, he can tell. He’s made more impressive plays in the first set of their Kamomedai game than he has in any of the other matches they’ve played so far at nationals. Hinata grins in excitement as he successfully pulls off another insanely high jump, slamming the ball down above the scary “immovable” Kamomedai blocker. 

The ball bounces innocently on the other side of the court. Sachiro whistles. “Sheesh. For a tiny guy, he sure packs a punch.”

Hinata whirls over to Kageyama, adrenaline coursing through his veins. “One more!”

Kageyama gives him a strange look, but the next set goes to him as well. Then, the one after that. And the one after that.

Hinata is in love. He’s in love with the few brief seconds when the ball makes contact with his palm, the feeling of his feet launching him into the air, the sound of Kageyama calling his name. All of Hinata’s pain and fatigue melt away into his unadulterated love for volleyball. He never wants this match to end. It's as if Hinata has been pumped full of drugs, and he's riding out his high.

And what’s even better is that Hinata will get to play two more sets after this one. Two more sets of this euphoria. Hinata is practically brimming with excitement. 

“Nice play, Hinata!”  Tanaka says after Hinata makes a receive that wins them the set.

“Thanks!”  Hinata holds out his hand to meet Tanaka’s high-five–

–and it slips

and everything comes crashing down.

Huh?

Hinata

is 

falling 

(someone screams his name in the distance)

falling

(someone cradles him in their arms)

falling

(fatigue creeps back up from the floor, curls around Hinata’s body)

falling 

(deep blue eyes, welling up with tears)

and then 

he hits

the ground.

~ ~ ~

Hinata is floating. 

He feels lightweight, yet heavy at the same time. Broken, yet whole. His mind fades away into a comfortable fogginess, his body floats farther away, and Hinata doesn’t bother chasing after it. 

It’s a strange feeling. Time passes in a strange, sluggish way; in fact, it doesn’t feel like time passes at all. Hinata doesn’t know what time it is, what year it is, what day it is. He doesn’t remember what he was doing before he found himself floating here. All he knows is this sensation, this soft, gentle sensation that has him levitating in white, vacant space, and makes him feel so happily and contently full, yet so unbearably empty at the same time. 

Hinata’s eyes are closed, but he stares into the opaque whiteness of his surroundings that seems to continue forever. Every muscle in his body is relaxed, wrung out, massaged into its most basic, original form. Hinata doesn’t feel pain anymore. All he feels is warmth, coolness, happiness, sadness, and an inexplicable, dizzy kind of high that makes him giggle involuntarily. 

He soaks in the warmth, the comfort, the voices.

Wait. The voices?

“...nata.”

“...inata.”

“HINATA!”

A crack forms in Hinata’s perfect, empty whiteness, right above him. It branches out, reaches towards Hinata, begs him to come closer. 

Hinata peers into the crack. He sees black hair. Blue eyes. A crying face. 

“HINATA!” 

“Ka…geyama?” 

The doctors holding the struggling Kageyama back freeze and whip around to stare at Hinata. Hinata gradually recognizes Akane standing beside him, her hands covering her mouth–whether she’s expressing happiness or sadness, Hinata can’t figure it out. 

Kageyama stares at him with that same inscrutable, unreadable expression that Hinata has always hated. 

Only this time, Hinata looks a little closer. He can notice everything now, pick out every little detail that he hadn’t noticed before. Kageyama’s messy hair. His crazed eyes. His volleyball bag, abandoned haphazardly on the floor behind him. His rumpled clothes, messed up from a tussle with the doctors. The relief that floods his face when he sees Hinata’s eyes crack open. 

“Please, kid, we need you to leave now.” One of the doctors begs. “The operation is about to be underway.”

An acute spasm of real anger flashes through Kageyama’s face. He looks like he wants to punch the doctor in the face, but holds back. Instead, he lowers his trembling fist to his side, staring down at the floor as a few words squeeze out between his anger. 

“At least let me talk to him once.”

The doctors seem to hesitate. Both of them glance over to Akane, who nods in confirmation. Silently, politely, they exit the room. 

Kageyama immediately marches over to Akane, grabs her by the collar. Hinata wants to yell at him– this lady has literally saved your life more times than you can count, treat her with some respect –but respect has become a foreign language for Kageyama. 

“What’s going on?!  Why are you here of all places?!  What’s wrong with him?” 

“Please calm down, Kageyama.” There is gentle admonishment in Akane’s voice, as there always is, but a new, shaky emotion has weaved its way into her perfect, professional tone. 

That’s when Akane breaks down. Kageyama backs away in shock as tears begin running down her face. She collapses to the ground, and through his hooded eyes and significantly limited vision, Hinata realizes she’s bowing to Kageyama. 

“I’m – I’m so sorry,” she sobs between shaky breaths, not lifting her head to look at Kageyama. “He – He signed up to be your blood donor and I – I let him, it was onl – was only supposed to be for a few weeks, but he… he said he was fine, and I – oh god – I was an idiot so I… I believed him, and we kept drawing blood, and his condition must’ve – must have gotten worse, and – oh my god –”

Akane buries her head to her knees and sobs. All of the rage that had previously filled Kageyama’s face dissipates as he kneels down and takes Akane into his arms. She continues sobbing, her tears and snot pooling on the ground and mixing with Kageyama’s. They’re both crying. For me , Hinata realizes. They’re both crying for me. 

“I’m sorry,” Kageyama whispers, pulling her closer. “This isn’t your fault. Please don’t cry.” 

Akane sniffs a couple more times, wiping her wet sleeve across her face. She straightens,  nothing about her presentation being off besides the redness and puffiness evident around her eyes. 

“We’re going to try to do an operation on him, see if we can somehow implement a stem cell or another artificial implant to mitigate his blood loss. The operation–”

“Can I donate my blood to him?” Kageyama blurts. Akane stares at him incredulously. Hinata wants to scream at him, to throw something at him. No, you idiot. I went through all of that crap so that you could have that blood. Now you want to erase all my hard work?!  

Luckily, Akane seems to read Hinata’s thoughts. “I’m afraid that not only would that be an incredibly risky action given both you and Hinata’s physical states at this time, but that’s also not something Hinata would want. After all, he did all this with the intention of saving your life. How would he feel if you were put in danger again because of him?” 

Kageyama looks like he wants to say something, but stops himself. He grits his teeth, and his nails dig further into his palms. Hinata notices that they haven’t been trimmed in a while. 

“We have to do the operation soon.” Akane reminds Kageyama softly.

Kageyama doesn’t speak for a moment, then belatedly responds, “I know. Can I at least talk to him for a few minutes?”

Akane smiles; Hinata notices that she’s been smiling a whole lot more since he met her the first time. “Sure. Take as long as you need.”

Then she’s gone, and once again, it’s just him and Kageyama.

The setter lets out a choked noise, like a kicked puppy. “Hinata, are – are you awake?” 

Hinata tries to nod, but his body doesn’t respond. It’s a heightened, worsened version of when he was getting his blood drawn–when he experienced intense numbness back then, now he can’t even move a limb on his body. 

I’m so cold. So cold.

The only thing that Hinata can do to respond to Kageyama is crack his eyes open a bit farther. Luckily, Kageyama sees it, and his smile following that is almost enough to melt the shackles of paralysis stopping Hinata from jumping into his arms. 

“After the operation, we’re gonna have a nice long chat. First, I’m gonna beat you up for lying to me.”

Hinata internally shivers. 

“And then…” the setter trails off. Hinata wishes he could open his eyes just a bit wider to see Kageyama’s expression, but it’s beyond his capabilities. He instead settles for just listening to Kageyama’s smooth, milk-like voice. 

“I’m going to tell you something important. It’s something I’ve been considering telling you for a long time, but I ended up stopping myself every time.”

Hinata listens intently. 

“I won’t tell you what it is yet, but–” Kageyama stops to breathe. “It’s something that I became sure of as soon as you said “I’m here” that day. Do you remember? The first time you hit my set. That was one of the best days of my life.”

Hinata says nothing. 

“I think I was unsure of it at first. But as time went on, I got to know you more and more, and you just… you just kept exceeding my expectations every single time. You kept pushing me, and challenging me, and god if that wasn’t the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me–”

Hinata shudders. 

“And even now,” Kageyama says, and his voice feels like a breath of fresh air. “You didn’t hesitate to save me, even though you probably hate my guts. You went through all of this–” Kageyama pauses for a moment, and Hinata recognizes the familiar sound of swallowing tears. –for me.”

Hinata’s body itches to move. 

“I don’t – I don’t think I can live without you, Hinata.”

Hinata wants to sit up.

“You’re – You are amazing, and I don’t think I’ll ever find anyone like you–”

Hinata wants to hug Kageyama.

“I–”

Hinata wants to kiss him. To swallow the words that are about to leave his mouth. 

“I love you, Hinata.”

And the endless, empty whiteness surrounding Hinata melts away in a shower of warmth and beauty, and Hinata’s wide, brown eyes, are staring straight into Kageyama’s. 

“I guess I just told you, so no need to wait until after the operation.” Kageyama laughs lightly, not breaking his gaze with the redhead. 

Hinata’s eyes trail over to the window. He sees the first light of dawn, a dusky rose in the east. What time is it? Kageyama looks over to the window with him. 

The day comes alive warmly, brightly, basking the soulless, bleak hospital room in a veneer of gold and scarlet. Through the tree outside the window, the light begins to sift down the dark leaves and branches. 

With his eyes wide, his vision unrestrained, Hinata can see the rest of the hospital room. It is empty. Soulless. The TV has been unplugged, carried off to another patient’s room. A few forlorn flower petals on the ground seem to indicate some discarded get-well-soon gifts, who they were left by, Hinata will never know. The standard hospital meal–which sits cold and unmicrowaved next to Hinata’s bed–is a bland potato dinner.

Hinata remembers his father, and his deep-rooted hatred for hospitals. They’re treating me like I’m already dead. A hopeless patient. A corpse waiting to be wheeled out. 

Perhaps the operation was bound to fail.

Then, upon scanning the room, something catches Hinata’s eye.

A flash of color, amidst this desolate emptiness.

A bright red omamori amulet hanging innocuously in the place where the missing TV was.

Hinata draws in a breath.

“I forced them to keep it here,” Kageyama says. “Even though they said that they’d have to remove it soon for the next patient. I just don’t see the point if you’re going to be staying here for a while after the operation to recover.” 

Hinata doesn’t move at first.

Then, he feels a cold sensation trailing down his cheek from the corner of his eye, and plopping onto the pillowcase beneath him. 

A look of shock flashes across Kageyama’s face. He reaches out to take Hinata’s hand, but Hinata reaches him first. 

His cold, clammy hands intertwine with Kageyama’s warm, soft ones. 

“I don’t want you to go,” Kageyama whispers, breaking down as tears run down his face as well. “I can’t – I can’t live without you. Why did you do this? Did you th-think I’d be happy… living without you? You –” He chokes, and Hinata feels a part of his heart shatter as he watches Kageyama fall apart before him. “ –you dumbass.”

Hinata tries to speak, but his mouth feels glued shut, his lips are dry and chapped from their underutilization. Hinata focuses all his will on trying to open his mouth, to wake up his weak vocal cords, but he can’t. His body is too weak, too devoid of blood, of fuel. 

“I don’t – I can’t – I love you so much. I – You’ll live, right? Hinata? Tell me you’ll live. Tell m… Tell me you’ll be okay. That’s the only way I’ll survive. Tell – Tell me you’ll stay with me.” Tears are surging down Kageyama’s beautiful face now, dripping incessantly on the sheets below him. 

Hinata wants to scream. He wants to grab Kageyama and kiss him, love him, show him that he’ll be alright–but he can’t. Because, truthfully, Hinata isn’t sure if he will be. And his body resists all his attempts at movement.

Kageyama, who seemed to have been waiting for something, visibly droops his shoulders when he sees that Hinata isn’t saying anything. “I should probably go now. They’re gonna ask for me any minute.”

No. Stop. Hinata’s thoughts implore. Please. I’m so close.

I need to tell you. I need to tell you everything I feel about you too, everything I adore about you. 

Please,

Please god,

Let me speak just this once.

Make my voice work.

Kageyama stands to leave. Hinata feels his stomach tighten, wrenching itself in horror. He wants to reach out and grab Kageyama’s hand, but his hand remains shackled in place. Hinata writhes and screams, but lies peacefully on his cot as Kageyama makes his way towards the door. 

Don’t go,

I love you,

I love you,

I love you so much,

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you–

Hinata’s mouth twitches. The tears accelerate. 

I love you, I love you, I love you–

Kageyama’s hand reaches the door handle.

I love you, I love you, I love you–

The door creaks open. 

I love you, I love you, I love you–

Hinata’s eyes burn from the tears. His throat shudders. His senses bloom to life.

“..lo..”

Kageyama is halfway through the door when his body goes rigid.

“...lo…ve”

Slowly, unbelievably, the setter turns to the boy on the cot. 

“I… love..”

Hinata has turned his head to stare right back at him, tears and snot running down his red face, flushed with love, stars in his eyes. 

“I love you.”

Kageyama drops the handle. He throws his bag to the side. He runs over to Hinata, takes him in his arms, and kisses him. 

And Hinata’s world erupts into a bewildering blaze of warmth.

~ ~ ~

“Kageyama?  Are you ready?”

Kageyama startles awake, wipes his eyes hastily, and grabs his things. “Yeah. I’m ready.” 

Suga glances sympathetically at him in his unruly state, but says nothing of it. Instead, he walks over wordlessly and hugs Kageyama tightly. 

Kageyama feels the tears tugging at his eyes once more. He refuses to release the floodgates again. 

“I know,” Suga whispers in his ear, and Kageyama hears his voice trembling. “I know.” 

After a moment of holding each other like this, Suga finally releases Kageyama. “We’re going to leave in five minutes. Be downstairs by then.” He leaves without another word.

Kageyama stands frozen in the middle of the room like Suga left him, unmoving for a solid thirty seconds. 

Then he sinks to his knees and sobs. 

Ugly, tender sobs rip their way out of his throat. A high guant wail echoes through his room, harmonizes with the sound of his nails digging into the skin of his arms. Kageyama screams and sobs, and he doesn’t care if they hear him downstairs, he doesn’t care if the neighbors report them for sound violations, he doesn’t care if he shatters his own eardrums in the process. 

He’s gone , Kageyama’s mind reminds him, a never ending cycle of the two vicious words repeating in his head like a broken record. He’s gone.

Kageyama cries. He cries until he’s emptied out all the tears in his eyes, and the only thing left as evidence of his sadness is his weak voice filling the room. He cries until the scratches on his arms flare in pain, taking away some of the pain that courses through his veins and swallows his heart. He sobs until his throat is raw and his eyes are burning, sobs until he physically cannot sob anymore. 

Then, Kageyama stands up, wipes his tears, covers his arms with his black jacket, and makes his way downstairs. 

~ ~ ~

“In loving memory of Hinata Shoyo, sixteen years old, born in 1996.” 

Everyone around Kageyama is crying. Hinata’s family. The entire team of Karasuno. Even other teams, both from Miyagi and from entirely other districts–that was how lovable Hinata was. He was even able to turn his enemies into his closest friends. 

Kageyama is the only one who isn’t crying. Partly because he used up all his tears before he got in the car, and is physically incapable of crying anymore.

Partly because deep down inside, he wants his tears to be for Shoyo, and Shoyo only. His raw, exposed sadness, all of his vulnerabilities, his insecurities, everything. He’ll give everything to Shoyo. 

But Shoyo isn’t here anymore .

Kageyama’s long, untrimmed nails dig red crescents into his hands. 

The funeral passes by in a flash. Halfway through, it starts to rain. The morticians read off some lazy underperformed speech about how Shoyo was such a mature, respectful, and generous boy (Kageyama nearly snorts at that. He thinks about how Shoyo would definitely be laughing his head off if he were hearing this speech right now). 

There are some tearful hugs. Some plaintive goodbyes. One by one, people start trickling out of the cemetery. Soon, Kageyama is the only one left standing in front of Shoyo’s grave. 

He doesn’t say anything, only stares at Shoyo’s smiling picture on the casket. Even in this heavy downpour, he seems to radiate light, repelling the raindrops. The magic of Hinata Shoyo. His Shoyo.

It’s not that Kageyama has nothing to say; it’s just that there’s so much he wants to say, that for Kageyama–who has never been good at communication–mere words would only seem pathetic and flimsy compared to his real feelings. Instead, Kageyama stares longingly at Hinata in the picture, hoping that somehow his emotions are reaching Hinata through his eyes, his stance, his presence. 

There were so many words that Kageyama could use to describe Shoyo. Annoying shrimp. The greatest decoy. My partner. My rival. My savior. 

The vast supply of Shoyo’s titles nearly overheats Kageyama’s brain, so he decides to settle on one:

Shoyo.

Short and sweet. Just like him. 

The rain flattened Kageyama’s bangs against his forehead and soaked his clothes, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sun in front of him. 

Kageyama hasn’t talked much to anyone since the failed operation. Most people believed it was because he was coping, because he refused to accept Hinata’s death. 

Part of it was that. The other part was because Kageyama was focusing all of his attention on trying to remember every part of Hinata. His face. His spikes. His voice.  

“I’m here!”

“Send the next one to me too!”

"Your sets are amazing!”

Kageyama feared that the day he forgot what Hinata’s voice sounded like, what his hair looked like, his soft visage, his deep brown eyes, and his blinding smile, was the day that Kageyama would lose himself. 

But you won’t ever lose me, will you? After all, I’m a part of you.

Kageyama blinks in realization. That’s right. He brings his right hand up to his face, examines the red crescents decorating his skin, the tiny trails of blood dripping down his hands. 

I’ll always be a part of you, whether you like it or not. When you graduate from highschool, go professional, and make it to the Japan League. I’ll be here. 

Kageyama feels the tears welling up in his eyes again. This time, he doesn’t try to stop them. They cascade down his face, uninhibited, mixing with the rain on his cheeks, and Kageyama cries. He cries, screams, wails, his pain being swallowed by the rain around him and being drowned out by the endless pattering of the downpour around him. 

Then, after screaming his throat raw for the fifth time that day, Kageyama reaches into his soggy pocket and fishes out a roll of volleyball bandages. He wraps them around his right palm, watching as the red crescents bleed through vividly on the first layer, then seem to tone down on the second layer, then finally disappear on the third layer where he ties the bandages around his hands with a tight tug. 

I’ll never let you go again, Shoyo. 

Kageyama finally turns to leave, his volleyball shoes squelching in the mud beneath him and leaving deep indented footprints in the ground. The rain continues to fall, drenching the casket and the flowers, and washing away the few drops of blood that fell on the ground. 

Kageyama walks without looking back, his hand in Hinata’s hand, their blood mixing together in his veins, blending into each other cell by cell until all that is left is red.