Chapter Text
It doesn’t happen in slow motion. All Shoyo knows is that one second, he’s spiking the ball Atsumu set for him and in the next the ground feels like a rug suddenly being ripped from underneath his feet just as he’s about to land back to earth. Before the next moment arrives, he’s already down, the ceiling of the gym replaced with a blinding light that dominates not only his vision but also his other senses. He feels nothing, and Shoyo isn’t even sure if his eyes are open, the light enveloping him like he’s in the middle of a thunder strike.
Everything else comes back to him slowly.
“- inata? Shoyo-kun, can you hear me?”
The blinding light subsides revealing a worried face of Miya Atsumu, his usual smirk replaced by a furrowed brow. He doesn’t remember blinking his eyes open which probably means they were open this entire time. ‘Huh? Weird’, he thinks as he sits up from where he was laying on the gym floor.
“Hinata! You good, man?”, Bokuto asks from above him.
“Uh, yeah”, Shoyo answers, taking a hand the older offered him and pulls himself up to his feet. “How did I fall? Felt like a rug was ripped from underneath my feet.”
“I’m so sorry Hinata, it was my stray ball, it rolled right underneath your feet after my spike, I’m so sorry”, Bokuto exclaims, face filled with worry.
“Don’t worry, Bokuto-san! I’m fine”, Hinata smiles. It’s not even a lie: Shoyo feels fine. There’s a dull throb on the backside of his head but that’s it. He could barely classify it as pain. In fact, it feels more like ice has frozen over the part of his skull that collided with the gym floor.
“You sure you’re fine? It looked like you hit your head pretty hard Sho-kun”, Atsumu interrupts, placing a gentle hand on Shoyo’s shoulder, face still stricken with uncharacteristic worry. “Ya also spaced out for a couple of seconds. Maybe go sit on the bench for a couple of minutes?”
“For once I actually agree with Miya”, Sakusa cuts in. “You still could have a concussion. Sometimes it takes a while for the symptoms to show.”
Shoyo leans forward to pick up the stray ball, opening his mouth to reply, still undecided between “but I’m fine” and “okay, but just five minutes” when everything hits him all at once. The dull ache travels from the backside of his head forwards, the icy cold feeling enveloping the left side of his face, creeping and curling around his ear, reaching his cheek and stopping under the corner of his eye. There’s no blinding light this time, the feeling of his entire body weight suddenly rushing forward into his head all at once replacing it. The voices of his teammates grow muffled as Shoyo focuses solely on the ball by his feet, his fingers digging into it harshly as he picks it up. Shoyo tries to focus on the feel of the ball in his hands instead as he straightens back up.
But it doesn’t help. Instead, it’s the final nail in the coffin as the weight in his head shifts again. Shoyo faintly registers his limbs feeling unbearably light and his fingers going slack letting go of the ball as the weight of his head overtakes everything.
The horrible sound of Hinata’s skull hitting the gym floor is playing on repeat like a broken record in Atsumu’s mind as he watches all the color drain from his teammate’s face, the ball he’s holding escape from his fingertips and his eyes glass over before they roll into the back of his head. He stands frozen as Bokuto lounges forward, catching Hinata as his knees buckle, preventing him from hitting his head yet again.
It’s Bokuto’s panicked voice that snaps Atsumu out of it.
“Shoyo? Oh my god, Shoyo”, Bokuto rants wide-eyed, tightly holding his teammate’s slumped frame in his arms, Hinata’s head limply slumped over his shoulder.
“Lay him on the ground Bokuto. Gently”, Atsumu says, kneeling on the ground to help lower Hinata to the floor. Atsumu quickly retrieves his jacket from the bench, folding it and gently lifting Hinata’s head before laying it back down onto the soft fabric. He’s pale, eyes closed, unmoving – nothing Atsumu came to associate with the bright, energetic presence that is Hinata Shoyo.
“Why is he passed out? He was fine just a second ago!”
“As I said, head injuries sometimes take some time to show.”
Atsumu barely registers Sakusa and Bokuto’s conversation before the team coach is on his knees next to him, next to Hinata.
“Is he completely unconscious?”, the coach inquires. Atsumu only looks at Hinata’s face, still ashen but otherwise unmoving, as he nods. The coach takes a deep intake of breath: “We should try waking him up.” This time it’s Bokuto who reaches out first, kneeling by Hinata’s other side, gently tapping his arm. “You can try to rouse an unconscious patient with possible head trauma, but without moving them or touching their head or face”, Atsumu remembers from his first aid course and he’s glad Bokuto knows it as well. It feels like Bokuto is trying to wake Hinata up for hours, even though Atsumu knows deep down that it’s more like a couple of seconds. The realization still downs on him though: Hinata isn’t waking up. And that’s not good.
The look of rising panic in Bokuto’s eyes is enough to pull Atsumu from his train of thought. “If the patient is unconscious, you should check their airways and breathing”, Atsumu remembers as he leans forwards to do exactly that.
“He’s breathing okay”, he announces. The coach on his left side has his fingers pressed tightly into Hinata’s wrist. “His pulse is steady too.”
“Then why isn’t he waking up?”, Bokuto exclaims, voice even more panicked than before.
“Call an ambulance. Now.”
Atsumu looks up to Sakusa. His face is serious, but the setter knows the man well enough to know he’s carefully trying to mask his concern. “He’s been out for over a minute at this point. We shouldn’t just wait around and wait for him to snap out of it.”
Atsumu hates the fact that he knows that for a fact, Sakusa is right. Whenever a blow to the head includes unconsciousness it’s already bad. When it’s over thirty seconds? That’s more than bad.
Before Atsumu can respond, their coach already has his phone pressed to his ear as Bokuto continues to lightly tap Hinata’s arm pleading with him to wake up. Atsumu can’t miss the tears gathering in his eyes nor can he unhear their coach’s voice who’s now on the phone with first responders.
“…Yeah, Osaka… Hinata Shoyo, professional volleyball player. He’s 23 years old… I don’t think so, no… He was awake and acted normal after the fall but then suddenly fainted”, the coach says to the phone, his brow furrowed. He steps closer to look at Hinata again. “No, he’s still unconscious… Uh, it’s probably past two minutes now. Maybe three?”
“Come on Shoyo, you gotta wake up man”, Bokuto whispers. “This ain’t funny you know.”
“How are his vitals? Has anything changed”, the coach inquires, phone still in hand. Atsumu checks again. Despite the closed eyes and pale skin, there are steady breaths coming out of Hinata’s slightly parted lips. Atsumu presses his fingers to Hinata’s wrist, a wave of quiet relief washing over him as his counts strong and steady heartbeats, before signalling the coach.
“He’s still the same yeah… Okay, I’ll stay on the line.” Their coach faces Bokuto and Atsumu again: “They’re ten minutes out.”
Ten minutes out and Shoyo’s still out cold on the ground, unmoving. ‘Fuck, shit. Fuck’, is the only thought Atsumu can produce as he leans forward, gripping his kohai’s arm gently.
“You gotta wake up Sho-kun. Your grumpy boyfriend is gonna beat the shit out of us if we let anything happen to you, ya know?”
And of course that’s what does it. Not the gentle touches, not the pleas, but a single, nameless mention of him. If Shoyo weren’t quite literally passed out on the floor with a god-knows-how-bad head injury Atsumu would already be all over the case of teasing the younger about it.
‘I know it’s a coincidence’, Atsumu thinks, face almost cracking into a smile, ‘but it’s funny how it keeps on happening.’
Because as on cue, Shoyo stirs, his hand flinching in Bukoto’s hold. His eyes flutter open slowly, blinking at the bright gym lights above him, groaning.
“…’Yama?”
Atsumu smiles because if this dragged out any longer, he would probably have joined Bokuto (whose tears are now free falling as he mumbles in relief) in freaking the fuck out. Hinata’s voice is muffled, the nickname slipping past his lips barely more than a whisper, but at least it’s there.
“Sorry man it’s just me”, Atsumu replies, smiling softly in relief. “Do you know where you are?”
Shoyo’s eyes linger on him, void of recognition, ignoring the question. His pupils are blown wide, Atsumu notices, but at least they seem to be the same size. Hinata’s barely open eyes shift from Atsumu to Bokuto lazily, seemingly scanning his surroundings.
“Wher’s Tobio?”
His voice is small and quiet. There is nothing Hinata about it.
“He’s not here”, Atsumu replies, trying to mask his concern. “He’s on a training camp.”
Hinata’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion as he attempts to frown. “W’at? We were playing… my b’ckyard…”, he mumbles. “H-he left? Where’d he go?” Atsumu’s chest seizes at the words and the tone of Hinata’s voice. It’s scared, it’s sad. It’s betrayed.
Hinata attempts to turn his head, seemingly looking for Kageyama, then freezing mid motion, suddenly whimpering in pain, squeezing his eyes shut and once again, Atsumu’s heart sinks.
Because this is bad. Hinata’s confused and not making any sense and Atsumu can hear the shallow intakes of breaths by Bokuto next to him as he notices a red impact point that previously seemed just like inflated skin from the hit slowly darkening into blue and purple, a steady bruise growing behind Hinata’s left ear and spreading over his temple and cheek, stopping underneath Hinata’s eye.
Seemingly breathing through the pain, eyes lidded, Hinata’s lips form another barely there whisper:
“What happ’ed?”
“Just an accident. You’re gonna be fine.”
Atsumu smiles gently at Hinata, really hoping his puny attempt of trying to reassure his injured kohai isn’t completely lost in his own poorly masked discomfort. Hinata doesn’t respond instead groaning in pain and slowly lifting his previously limp hand from the floor towards his head. Before Atsumu can react, Bokuto’s gentle grip is already on the spiker’s wrist, gently dragging his hand back down, an unusually quiet mumble of “don’t touch that Shoyo” leaving his lips.
Hinata blinks and for a split second it almost looks like he’s searching for something Atsumu cannot give him: a clearance, something to wipe of the fog in his eyes away, something to ground him. An anchor pinning him to the ocean floor, preventing the waves of unconsciousness from taking him away. This time Hinata moans in pain, the palm of his hand blindly reaching out and gripping at the hem of Atsumu’s shirt, knuckles white. And the worst thing is that Atsumu knows it’s not enough. He isn’t an anchor Hinata needs and never will be.
“Wha’s goin’ on? My head… it hurts”, Hinata mumbles.
Their coach kneels back down, leaning over the fallen spiker, phone still in hand.
“Do you know what day is it Hinata? And where are we, currently?”
“Sunday. We’re… home?”
Bokuto and their coach exchange nervous glances. “Um, let’s try that again- “, Atsumu starts before Hinata interrupts him, glassy eyes desperately scanning over the room and worried faces, yet again searching.
“Where’s T’bio?”
Atsumu sighs. “He’s on a training camp Shoyo-kun. I told you that, remember?”
“Oh.”
For a second the desperation and confusion in Hinata’s eyes makes it seem like he’s going to panic again, blindly reach for Kageyama who isn’t there and keep asking in the same questions as he was never given the answers. But it never comes. Hinata blinks his eyes, once, twice, before they are once again rolling to the back of his head.
“No, no, no. Shoyo-kun, hey. No sleeping.”
Hinata’s eyes flutter open.
“’M tired.”
“Yeah, I know but you can’t sleep yet.”
“Why?”
“Uh well… Cause Tobio-kun is gonna be pissed.”
To Atsumu’s amusement, Hinata cracks a barely there, but still present, soft grin.
“Kageyama’s sleepier than me. Sleeps all the time”, he mumbles.
“Yeah well, can’t let him win now, right?”
What was supposed to be a very normal Monday afternoon for Tobio immediately flips, crashes and burns in a ditch somewhere the second his phone rings, the caller ID revealing no other than the Bokuto Kotaro.
Tobio doesn’t hang with Bokuto one on one and only has his number because of Hinata, just in case the latter suddenly dips on a celebratory night out to terrorize sleepy Tobio with his drunken shenanigans and Bokuto freaks the fuck out because he doesn’t know where Shoyo is (which has absolutely never happened before). So, it’s weird for Bokuto to be calling Tobio when the former is training back home with the Jackals and the latter is on a training camp in South Korea’s capital, a whole other country away. What’s even weirder is the fact that it’s three in the afternoon and Hinata and Bokuto definitely aren’t doing stupid things while bar hopping. It’s practice time.
‘Maybe something’s wrong’, Tobio’s mind whispers as he stares at the caller ID. ‘Nah, it’s probably something stupid. Maybe they ended practice early for whatever reason and are pranking me because they’re bored. Maybe Shoyo did something really cool and Bokuto got really excited and wanted to tell me.’
“…Or maybe something’s happened to Shoyo.”
Tobio answers the call without another thought.
“Hello? Bokuto-san?”
He’s greeted with silence at the other end of the line. And then a shuddering intake of breath.
“Kageyama?”
The voice is Bokuto’s but nothing about it is Bokuto. It’s not overexcited and loud nor is it over the top dramatic as it tended to be when he felt down in his high school days. It’s just scared.
“Bokuto-san? Is something wrong?”
“It’s Shoyo-kun. He had an accident.”
Kageyama drops the gym bag he was holding.
“Accident? What do you mean accident?”
“He, uh, he hit his head. He was practicing spikes and landed on a stray ball.” Tobio’s stomach drops at the words. If Hinata landed on a ball full force after coming down from one of his usual insanely high and insanely fast jumps, then –
“… he just wasn’t waking up, and he’s being all weird…” Bokuto’s voice is muffled in Tobio’s ears, only picking up on parts of his panicked rambling.
“Tobio? Is everything alright?”
The voice isn’t Bokuto’s but Romero’s, Tobio realizes. Oh, right. He’s in the locker room about to change for practice and everyone is staring at him with worried glances.
Shit. Shit.
Tobio turns and exits the room, stopping in the empty hallway, focusing on Bokuto’s voice.
“Bokuto-san, slow down please. Is Hinata okay? Is he awake now?”
“He’s awake but…”
“But?”
“He’s… weird? Like confused? He’s asking for you. It’s like um, he thinks you’re here with us? I just – Hey!” There’s shuffling on the other line as Bokuto’s voice disappears, replaced by a different yet also known caller.
“Tobio-kun, you still there?”
“…Miya-san?”
“Yea, it’s me. Listen um, I know this is probably shocking and all but I really gotta ask: Were you playing volleyball with Shoyo-kun recently?”
“Yeah, yesterday. Why? What’s going on?”
“Oh, thank God. Okay, okay. Um, where were you playing?”
“We visited his family home in Miyagi, and we played in his family’s backyard, but I don’t see how this matters? Is Shoyo – “
“Gimme a minute Tobio-kun, okay? I need to talk to the paramedics for a second, I’ll be right back.”
Paramedics. At first Tobio wanted to believe that all of this was still somehow a very dumb, very stupid prank. Or that maybe, just maybe, Bokuto was overreacting. But if they had to call a fucking ambulance, it probably wasn’t nothing. Fuck. Fuck.
“Tobio? You there?”
“Yes, I’m here”, he quickly replies.
“Okay, good. Well, it’s too late to ask you to stay calm and shit because Kotaro probably already freaked you the fuck out, but still. Please don’t be too panicked, Shoyo’s gonna be fine.”
“Bokuto-san said he landed on the ball? And that he hit his head and was unconscious?”
“Yeah. Look, he knocked himself out for a couple of minutes but he’s gonna be okay. He didn’t remember he was at practice and thought he was playing volleyball with you in his backyard. That’s why I asked you if you’ve played with him recently. Just to know if, uh, he just lost some time or was completely disoriented.”
“What did the paramedics say? How is he?”
“They’re loading him into the ambulance right now, but they didn’t say much to be honest with ya. He’s been out of it for around five minutes and doesn’t remember shit, as I said. He’s also nauseous but they’ve got him. Other than that…”
“Other than that what?”
Atsumu sighs. “He keeps asking for you. He’s confused, thinks you’re here.”
“Would it help if I talked to him over the phone?”
“Wait, I’ll ask.”
There’s around fifteen second of hushed voices and shuffles on the other end of the line, before Atsumu’s voice returns.
“They say no, sorry Tobio. He’s not really lucid right now, he’ll probably be even more confused to hear you on the phone but not see you, ya know? It would be better if – “
“I’ll be there.”
Tobio faintly registers Atsumu’s protests before he hangs up and sprints back into the changing room, furiously throwing his stuff back into his bag and changing back into loose joggers and a hoodie Hinata gave him for his twenty-second birthday.
“Kageyama? Is everything okay?”
It’s only when he hears the voice of his coach that Tobio realizes the changing room is empty, everybody else already warming up in the gym, save for their coach who is standing by the door, giving him a worried glance.
“I, um. I’ll need to leave. I’m sorry sir.”
“Is it a personal emergency?”
“I – yeah. My friend, Shoyo… He hit his head really hard in practice and they don’t know exactly how bad it is yet so – “
“Tobio”, coach interrupts. “You don’t need to explain. If it’s a personal emergency, it’s a personal emergency”. He looks stern and serious, but his voice is unusually gentle. “I’ll call the manager to get you a ticket and take you to the airport. That okay?”
“I - yes. Thank you so much sir”, Kageyama says, bowing.
The man chuckles: “It’s not a problem Tobio, it’s understandable. Just take care of yourself and text me when you’ll be back.”
Kageyama can’t seem to sit still while driving to the airport, reaching out to his pocket for his phone every thirty seconds or so, waiting for Atsumu to update him.
Kageyama Tobio: text me updates
Kageyama Tobio: do you know anything
Kageyama Tobio: how is he?
He’s just past the entrance of the airport when his phone finally buzzes inside his pocket.
Atsumu Miya: just got to the hospital. He’s still not really lucid and has trouble staying conscious, but he hasn’t gotten any worse
Kageyama Tobio : so he’ll be fine?
Atsumu Miya : they took him for a CT scan and MRI to rule anything out
Atsumu Miya : he’ll be fine
Kageyama Tobio : to rule what out
Atsumu Miya: just to make sure it’s nothing more serious. he’s okay
Kageyama Tobio: you don’t know that
Atsumu Miya: stop aiming at the messenger Tobio-kun
Atsumi Miya : Besides, we both know a knock to the head ain’t enough to take Shoyo out
Shoyo floats.
No, scratch that.
He’s sinking. Yeah. That’s more accurate. The voices around him are muffled. There are faces – all unrecognizable, yet in the midst of everything, Shoyo knows he’s supposed to recognize at least some of them. Their features. Their voices.
He knows some of these people, but he can’t… remember…
It’s not that his vision or his hearing swims, or drowns, per say. It’s like his entire body is underwater, everything he was ever a part of forcibly ripped away as the currents claim him. They are above and he is below, and that’s just the new order of things.
Shoyo breathes, which is … strange? He’s underwater.
Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Where is Tobio?
There are flashes of his childhood home’s backyard. It’s Sunday. His mother is making dinner in the kitchen. Natsu, Tobio and Shoyo are playing volleyball in the backyard. They’re older and the place feels unfamiliar because it’s been too long since it’s been like this. But no matter, it’s fun. It’s domestic.
Natsu is laughing. Tobio is calling him and idiot. He’s smiling.
Then there’s ice. Shoyo expects the water to come meet him, but it doesn’t. He knows it’s there though. He can feel the pulling on his hands, dragging him back to the surface, before he keeps going under again, all attempts useless.
More faces. This time he’s sure he doesn’t know them.
He hurts. Why does he hurt?
… his pupils …
… needs a CT and MRI stat …
… symptoms … could as well be a contusion …
His back hits the seafloor. Then he’s moving again, the currents taking over.
“Hinata-san?”
Shoyo mumbles something. He doesn’t know what.
There are lights in his eyes. Again, he hurts. Wasn’t he playing?
“Where’s Tobio?”
His eyes are moving in its sockets and there’s warmth tingling in his fingerprints. It’s uncomfortable. It feels like an itch needed to be scratched. For some reason, he feels like he shouldn’t move even if he’s dying to do so. The tingling light spreads though his limbs and it hurts.
Shoyo holds his breath till he can’t anymore. Water rushes in.