Work Text:
— Sawamura Daichi —
He's no stranger to noise; it's what you get when you're the oldest of five kids. He'd never admit it, but he envied all the captains he'd met in his volleyball career. They were a solid foundation, protectors, and they knew how to pull themselves together. It wasn't that Daichi couldn't do all that; he was known for his reflexes, he was an excellent receiver, and he thought his pregame speeches weren't that bad. But he always felt like he wasn't enough, like he wasn't doing everything he should have.
He liked it when Hinata came to him for advice. No one else on the team needed them, they'd all found their own path in volleyball or people to guide them. His little first-year asks about all sorts of things, and Daichi feels flattered. He hides the fact that he enjoys the attention, because Hinata could have asked anyone, but he came to him.
Then he sees the little blocker running up to both Bokuto and Kuroo and feels disappointed. Fukurodani's ace is one of the top five outside hitters in the country. Daichi has nothing new to say compared to him.
He is happy with his life: he is a good student, he has friends, the planet revolves around the sun, and volleyball is getting better every time. Appetite is contagious, and Kageyama and Hinata are infecting him. Sawamura never even thought about how far he could go. This applies to volleyball and life in general. He has nothing against the mundane and admits that life for history books does not appeal to him at all.
Sawamura has been the walking embodiment of a good guy all his life. The one who is more modest and simpler, who will come to the rescue and who can be relied upon. He does not have many friends, but he tries to maintain good relations with everyone. Daichi recognized the signals from Michimiya: her shyness, her long stares, and her difficulty with communicating. He understood why her friends pushed her toward him, why she blushed so often. But he didn't know what to do about it. He just left the situation as it was. If he could come up with a better solution, he would definitely follow it.
But his head is foggy.
The biggest problem with Daichi and volleyball is that he is the team captain. He has no problem taking on responsibility and dealing with loud people, because he has had to deal with all of that since he was a kid. He feels like an older brother to all of his kohais, and there are many times when he has to restrain himself from saying too much, from looking weird, from…
It’s hard for him not to get attached to his team. He feels happy and having fun around these guys. So much fun. More fun than he’s ever had before, even though he’s been playing since middle school. And that’s the big problem.
His team may still have time, but his days are running out.
Ennoshita will be the next captain, that’s been decided. Daichi felt the need to give him some advice, even though he knows his kohai doesn’t really need it. During the graduation ceremony, he tries to think about his future, about how he will soon have to take the exams to enter the police academy. Even his choice of profession has something to do with protection and support, and this surprises no one. Instead, his days in the club are in front of his eyes, the invisible images of the captains of other teams whose names and faces he could not remember. He is left with a feeling of incompleteness, as if he should have done something more in Karasuno.
This isn't just а club.
After the ceremony, his team greets him in the hall for the last time. Instead of going to the party, the three of them - Sugawara, Daichi and Asahi - decide to go to the place where they left a piece of their hearts. Of all the things that happened to them in high school, this club was the most meaningful. Maybe they studied here all this time just so that they could have this year, the year that was the happiest. That's why it's their last. Because life is so damn unfair. And time is so short.
It's weird - Daichi does everything the way he always does, and he doesn't even partially realize that he will never be able to do this again. It feels like there is a tomorrow. But there isn't. It's the end of the world. They all - sweaty and flushed - gather in one big circle and hug their seniors. Sugawara, Daichi and Asahi are squeezed between the bodies of their friends, Hinata's head is pressed to the captain's chest, and he feels tears. Tears are good.
Daichi is glad that he was the captain of a team that cared enough about everything that was happening to cry. It hurts, but he is happy and unhappy. And he feels his knees shaking and a huge lump of nerves constricting in his throat. Sawamura did not want to cry, he wanted to leave with a smile on his face, but he feels Hinata's tears, sees the moisture in Sugawara's eyes and hears Yachi's sobs.
Daichi does not cry. He is grateful to his body for this.
He walks along the familiar road for the last time and promises himself not to turn around. But this time he sees something he had not noticed before. And again he wants to sit on the road and breathe in the evening air for a long time, so that it becomes at least a little easier. It is the end of the world, and he does not want to move on.
In his room, Daichi takes out his uniform and stares for a long time at the number one, painted white. And it seems strange that he needs to put these things away in a box, but he knows that no matter how hard he tries, he will not be able to forget about its existence.
He doesn't cry. He doesn't let himself get weak. But only after he's gathered all his courage and put his dear uniform on the top shelf does Daichi remember something important. His brain is a cunning creature that doesn't let him realize that this is the end.
Daichi never gave Ennoshita his final words.
— Ojiro Aran —
There are moments when he wishes to make the world stand still. For silence and for peace. And better yet, for some seconds to last forever. Like a beautiful pass or a fun dinner with the team. Aran is grateful to fate that his life has been calm. His mother has always worried about him and his little brother. They are different - they have a different height, a different appearance, a different skin color. In any other part of the world, this would not bother anyone, but certainly not in Japan. Parents are always worried about their children, especially if they are too different from others.
Remembering all his seventeen years, Aran thinks that he and his brother are lucky. There was never a time when someone pointed at him or whispered about his dark skin. Other guys invited him to play and he always found company. Maybe his mother blamed herself a little for marrying a citizen of another country, but only because she was afraid that her boys would be hurt.
Aran had fun: he was friends with the twins, who occasionally gave him a little headache, but he still loved them. He had a reliable companion and captain, Kita, with whom he liked to drink tea and was not embarrassed to go to idol concerts. Omimi was a very good friend of his, and volleyball was more fun than ever.
It's a simple truth: Anything you do is better when you do it with those you care about. He has to admit that losing is nothing new to him. He's lost before, and Inarizaki has never made it to the end - to the middle of the court, with no one else around them. He desperately wants to win nationals, but the orange swirl won't let him.
Maybe it was the surprise or Inarizaki's dismissive attitude. Aran knew that they were a bit arrogant: only the third years and Atsumu (only for their setter) watched the Karasuno match, while the rest considered it a waste of time and went for a walk in the darkened streets of Tokyo. So when they paid for their arrogance, Ojiro thought about the boomerang principle, and that he would never ever underestimate his opponent again.
Aran is not the type of person who is ready to compete just for the sake of the process or for the result, for the sake of proving something to someone. Opponents evoked equal feelings in him, and he did not experience such strong emotional stress after the game. He is simply very calm and prefers to give his smiles, praises and thoughts to his kohais. After all, they are very dear to him.
He liked these crows: Aran was no longer surprised by the games in their prefecture, in which they consistently won, he knew what Sakusa, Ushijima, Bokuto and Kiryi were capable of, although that did not mean that he did not expect surprises from them. Karasuno's number ten was a complete surprise and it seemed that surprises from him were endless, and that everything that happened defied logic. He made a mental note to remember this first year. Just in case.
Ojiro lets go of that thought: he doesn't really think about it that much, his anxiety surges are always different and sudden, uncontrollable. So he's grateful that he can just soak in a hot bath and relax. Tomorrow he'll see something new and he'll expect more and more surprises from Karasuno.
He could think that this is the end, that he won't be able to relax in a hot bath like this anymore, looking at the flushed faces of his teammates. But that thought doesn't bother him. Aran isn't the type to yearn for the past, because he believes that in the future he can do more and better than he can now.
Akagi is almost asleep, Atsumu's face is suspiciously red. Ojiro looks at Kita, as if asking if everything is okay. But the captain isn't worried about anything. The Inarizaki players are pretty observant, so everyone notices that Atsumu is a bit nervous. Tomorrow they have nowhere to rush, so they can stay a little longer. Everyone tactfully leave, leaving the setter alone with his thoughts. Aran wants to ask Osamu what is wrong with his brother, but he is obviously too tired to establish a mental connection between the twins.
They have a snack and go to bed. Aran can't sleep because Atsumu hasn't returned. They left him in the bathroom almost an hour and a half ago, but he still hasn't come. The whole team is sleeping in one room on mattresses, Osamu is already deeply asleep, everything is quiet and no one is awake except Ojiro. He was starting to panic a little that the setter had overheated and was getting sick, but then the door opened and Atsumu quietly walked into the room.
He laid down on his mattress, tossed and turned for a long time, muttered something, and then fell silent. Aran smiled, thinking about how in a few months he would be playing for the Red Falcons. This is a new stage in his life, and he welcomes it with joy. He sees his future reflected on the white ceiling of the hotel.
Listening to Atsumu's breathing, it occurs to Aran that he is not the only one here who now has something to look forward to.
— Sugawara Koushi —
He hates himself for thinking this, but sometimes he wishes his life were a little different. Sugawara, hiding under the blankets from himself and the world, imagines an eleven-man Karasuno team that would suffer all the time because of the odd number, but would be - at least - quieter. He loves his kohais dearly - as much as one can at seventeen. He likes to take care of them and spend his time with them. This is his senior year, and Sugawara promised himself that he wouldn't get so attached to these guys. And yet, with a few months left until graduation, Koushi wishes he had at least a little more time.
The previous years were... they just were, and that says it all. They are already the past, which could have been much better or much worse, but it is what it is. When Sugawara stretches the net, he sees Kageyama and Hinata ready to start training, and something hurts in his heart.
He didn't have such a passion for the sport. If he were told that he wouldn't be able to play volleyball for the rest of his life, he wouldn't take it as a tragedy. He had nationals, he had two years of just training and just games that were a little better than the ones they had in gym class. If there had been eleven players, they would never have made it this far. That's an undeniable fact. Without Kageyama, they would have failed, and Sugawara knew that the potential he could have given Hinata would have quickly been exhausted.
But he can't help but think about what would have happened if Kagema had managed to get into Shiratorizawa.
Sugawara wanted to be needed. But he's just a second setter - not Kageyama - who's only needed when Kageyama is tired, when Kageyama is playing on the other side of the net during a practice match, when Kageyama is nowhere to be seen. The previous years were good because Sugawara was the only one and therefore irreplaceable.
Now he spends most of his time on the bench, watching the game and wondering if his team will remember him after all these years, or if he will remain in the background because there are people in Karasuno who you can't forget, even if you really want to.
Sometimes he thinks about the painful struggle he had with himself in his first month of high school. Maybe neither side ever won, he's not sure. Seeing Hinata and Kageyama move so quickly, Sugawara's spirits were lifted and he thought that maybe, just maybe, they still have a chance for something more. The excitement bubbled up in his chest until Koushi caught Daichi's worried gaze in the locker room. Only then did a thought occur to him. Oh. Oh well.
Good volleyball may be starting, but Sugawara has a place in the back row. He doesn't get upset. He wants to see Daichi and Asahi play. He doesn't have to be there with them on the court. He just has to be there when they win, that's all.
He easily tells Coach Ukai that he shouldn't feel sorry for him, that they should proceed from the scenario that would be best for the team. His place is taken, and he is more interested in the development of events and does not focus on what he himself now means to the team.
After a while, melancholy sets in. Sugawara is not made for sports and he never really wanted to excel in volleyball. If his team wants him to serve for them a little longer, to stay late at practice, then he will gladly do it. Because it is that simple.
But sometimes Sugawara can't help but imagine what it would be like if Kageyama didn't exist. He has nothing against his kohai, he has something against the team's second setter. He doesn't know what exactly. They would just play. They would just have fun. There would be no training camps, no new opponents, and certainly no national-level competitions. Routine was fun for Koushi. But Kageyama exists, his deep voice and the squeak of his black sneakers on the parquet floor are clearly audible. With him come days that you want to remember. And at that very time, Sugawara is grateful that he had all of that. Even if he wasn't the main character, even if he doesn't inspire fear, respect, or irritation in his opponents.
But he was there.
And he tells himself that that's enough, and he stubbornly continues to pretend that it's not a lie.
— Tsukishima Kei —
In fact, he didn't have a single reason why he became like this. Tsukishima had no shocks in his life: no one died, no one disappeared, everything was in its place. And this does not explain why he is so deeply immersed in himself, why he is ready to not leave his room for days. Kei did not understand the reason why Tadashi was still around. Maybe it was just a habit - making new friends is difficult, and Tsukishima, even as he is, is better than nothing. Tadashi is also better than nothing, but if no one was around, Kei would not be upset.
He knows better than to wear his heart on his sleeve and believe too much in one person.
The story with Akiteru was a lesson for him. Before that game, Tsukishima saw his brother as a hero who could be relied upon, who followed the true path. Perhaps it was because there was no one else to admire, or perhaps it was because Kei loved anime with heroes and wanted to have his own. The connection between them had been severed then, and Tsukishima could have fixed it if he had just knocked on his brother's door. He would have been lying if he hadn't heard the sobs in the next room, or noticed his brother's mouth opening slightly to say something when they were alone, but no words came out. Akiteru's pitiful state, his broken look of self-disappointment, loss of image, loss of illusion, was obvious enough.
But Kei never knocked on the door.
He is disappointed too. And this is his bad habit - he always reduces everything to himself and does not care what the other person is feeling at that very moment. His own pain tended to drown out everything around him. And the dinosaur cookies began to seem stupid to him, and how they went to the park together, and then to the bookstore - too. Akiteru became an ordinary person, and Kei began to notice many flaws in him that were not obvious before.
From this a simple thought is born: if his beloved brother is nothing, if Tsukishima himself means nothing, then how can another person have any value?
So if Tadashi is around, then it is normal. If he is not around, then that is also normal. Tsukishima plays volleyball purely out of habit. Maybe he wants to prove something and does not even realize it, but he tells himself that it is just a club. The world will not collapse if he becomes a loser like Akiteru. At least not in a global sense.
He gets irritated by people who dream about something. People like Kageyama and Hinata. The only difference is that one of them has a reason to dream, and the other doesn't. He likes people who are good at what they do. Kei likes the setter Kageyama. Kageyama Tobio, a high school student, irritates him. It's pretty funny to laugh at him, but it quickly gets boring, because Kageyama doesn't have any witty comebacks.
Many times, Tsukishima has to bite his tongue to keep from telling Hinata: "You came from nowhere and you'll return to nowhere." Absolutely everything irritates him: the way he looks, the way he speaks, the way he acts, the way he plays. Just the thought of Kei meeting Hinata for practice after school made him sick.
He couldn't explain to himself why this short guy irritates him so much. In the end, the answer came naturally: because he has a dream he can be proud of, and you don’t. He knows what he wants, and you just don’t want anything in this life. Tsukishima sometimes watches Hinata from his corner during practice and wonders what it is inside him that keeps him going. What keeps him from sitting still.
Hinata and Kageyama are obviously cut from the same cloth. Kei may or may not have wanted to be like them. It was important for him to understand why he felt the way he felt. And he feels disappointed when Hinata makes mistakes. Because, damn it, they trusted him. They gave him this pass, this ball, and he couldn’t do anything.
At these moments, Tsukishima bites his tongue again and tells himself that he shouldn't rely so much on one person. He shouldn't place all his thoughts, all the things he himself would never dare to do, on anyone. Not on Akiteru, who broke so easily, who turned out to be just a dreamer, a liar, whose place is in the stands, not on the court, who is just a fan, not an ace.
He unconsciously placed responsibility for everything on Hinata: for volleyball, for himself. And Hinata's failure will be Tsukishima's failure, because his heart will be broken again. Kageyama irritates him, because he understands himself, understands what he needs, mentally reads Hinata. Tsukishima doesn't understand who he is, and what he wants...
He probably does understand.
And that's why a quick attack leaves the taste of ash in his mouth.
— Hoshiumi Kourai —
Lately, he thinks a lot and runs a lot. Simply because it's a little easier to think while running. After the match with Karasuno, it took him a while to realize that he couldn't get in touch with Hinata. He could have asked Bokuto for his number, but on the fourth day, Kamomedai lost to Fukurōdani, and Hoshiumi with his hands shaking from exhaustion, was packing his things to go home. There was no point in hiding the fact that he was a bit petty and didn't accept defeat gracefully. He could have asked Miya with the terrible hair for Kageyama's number, but he didn't want to be questioned about why he wanted to do that.
So he ran laps around his city, his runs getting longer each time. At first, Hirugami went out with him, then, realizing that Hoshiumi was a bit mentally unstable, that he was thinking about something endlessly, he left him alone. This grand gesture made Kourai grit his teeth, because once again he was being shoved in his face the proof of why Sachiro was so popular and why everyone liked him so much.
But who cares. Hoshiumi had something to strive for. Now for sure.
Hoshiumi reflects on how this game that ended in a nightmare was fateful for him. If it weren't, he wouldn't have to play with Hinata at all. There wouldn't be a taste of unsaid left on his tongue. He wouldn't have to watch Hinata fall, watch him be led away. Hakuba said that at that moment, Hoshiumi was like a child whose favorite toy was broken in front of him. And now he's left with only regret that someone didn't care about it the way he did, that no one looked after it well enough.
Hakuba is more right than he even realizes.
At some point, Kourai stopped understanding himself. He's balancing on the edge and doesn't know what line he's crossed: maybe he's so worried about what happened because now he needs to prove his strength to another person and to himself again, because he's met the only player who can fully appreciate his work. Or maybe it's not the opponent that matters to him, but Hinata himself, which is strange, because he doesn't even know what kind of person he is.
Hardworking. Strong. Just like himself.
His life has become one of waiting, which is nothing new, but waiting has never been very long. Now it stretches out for months, and Hoshiumi has to fight the constant "what ifs" and "maybes." Kamomedai trains, but Kourai tries harder than usual. Not for himself, but for the two of them. After training in the lamp-lit room, he looks out the upper windows at the dark sky. He thinks about how it's much colder and darker in the northeast than it is in the center of the country. And that Hinata is obviously doing the same thing as he is. Working for them.
It doesn't occur to Hoshiumi that maybe Hinata doesn't care about him at all.
Maybe Hinata doesn't care. Maybe he doesn't care about volleyball, or this whole world of possibilities, or some little giant Hoshiumi. Otherwise, he would try harder. Otherwise, he would put in more effort to meet again in a fateful battle for them.
When Sachiro comes to him and announces the results of the spring tournament in Miyagi, Hoshiumi's heart breaks not into a thousand, but at least into a hundred pieces. He is disappointed, but mostly in himself. But nothing is over yet, he will continue to wait and hope and work.
Hinata will go far, there is no doubt about it. But Hoshiumi will go much further.