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There’s plenty of activity in the gym long after the last match of the training camp. Only now, the air feels just a bit looser, like the tension that’s been held for the past few days has let go. No more rush to do hill runs or diving drills to serve, the relief that comes not from winning or losing, but from having done the work. A few of the guys from Nekoma linger by the doors while they change their volleyball shoes, talking over each other in lazy bursts. Bokuto’s laughter rings throughout the space as Kageyama paces beside the net, Hinata yapping to him about something involving his sets.
It’s not long before Yukie, one of the Fukurodani managers, swings by to let everyone know the barbeque is pretty much all set up.
Tanaka springs up from where had been lying on the gym floor arguing about something that no longer matters with Nishinoya, the latter hot on his heels.
Rolling his shoulders, Daichi half-heartedly calls out after them to not forget their stretches as the rest of the team trickles out of the gym with the squeaking of sneakers, drawn by the promise of food outside. Him, Asahi, and Suga toss a few more scattered volleyballs back into the cart before changing their own shoes and stepping outdoors. The cicadas hum like one, long, held-out note.
“Ugh,” Asahi groans as the humidity and almost blistering heat of the sun hit them all at once. “I want to go back inside already.”
“You shouldn’t unless you’re prepared to miss all the food.” Daichi can already see everyone eyeing the packages of meat.
“They really went all out for this, huh,” Sugawara peeks into another nearby crate filled to the brim with fruits and vegetables.
“I think you could say that we deserved it.”
Suga heads over to one of the grills with Kai as they try to help the managers lay out more food on the grill for the pack of hungry teenage boys hovering right behind them. His hair is damp with sweat, curling at the edges, and the tips of his ears are still pink from exertion plus the added heat of the grill. While he’s still laughing at something Yaku says, Daichi takes a moment to just watch him.
Three years is a long time to have watched someone and to Daichi, it feels like a pretty long time to have also cared this much for someone. The feeling isn't sudden and he doesn’t really feel ready to put the real name he feels to it. It’s just been there for quite a while, fed by all the time on their shared walks home, through looks exchanged during matches, and the unspoken understanding that passes between them when things have been hard both in school and on the court. Being here, at the end of something good, makes it impossible to ignore. Especially after what Asahi had said back inside the gym, about this being their last year and last chance, Daichi realizes he doesn’t want this feeling to pass unacknowledged. And maybe Daichi's just a bit sentimental at times in that way.
He does his rounds dutifully harassing some of the second and first years into eating more, trying once again to instill in Tanaka that vegetables are an important major food group, before he finds Sugawara sitting in the shade of a tree, legs stretched out with a plate resting on his knees, and tugging at the shirt clinging uncomfortably to his chest. He grins tiredly as Daichi joins him on the ground, trying to ignore how the dust from the dirt and blades of grass stick to his bare calves.
Suga tips his head against the trunk and exhales. “Any longer standing out there and I’m going to burn to a crisp.”
“There’s at least one tube of sunscreen somewhere out here.”
“And feel even stickier? No thanks.” Suga grimaces as he glances back toward the chaos near the grills, happy to have escaped the scene with his food early as someone’s already accidentally burnt some meat by the sounds of it. There’s another flurry of activity as someone finally lugs over another crate of drinks, the plastic rattling on the concrete. He turns his head slightly to see Daichi looking at him. "What?"
"Nothing," Daichi says, looking back down at his own plate. Then a few moments later, “Good work today.”
Sugawara grins, his silvery hair now mostly dried and looking a little more ruffled than before. “You say that every day.”
“That’s because it’s true every day.”
“Good, cause I’ve earned it.” Suga takes a big bite of the onigiri on his plate. “You know, Nationals feel way closer now,” he says, thoughtful. “Not just just a dream in the distance anymore.”
Daichi hums. “Yeah. We've come a long way.”
“I was just thinking,” Suga says, after a moment. “From here on out, it’s different, right?”
Daichi doesn’t answer right away. “What do you mean?”
Sugawara shrugs, like it’s obvious. “I’ll be ready whenever I’m needed and I’ll take whatever time I can get, but y’know.”
Daichi hums, low in his throat. “Yeah.” He isn’t sure if Suga knows that he and Asahi overheard the conversation he had with Ukai about the starting lineup from a couple months ago, but he knows what Suga means: even as one of their most reliable players, the starting lineup won’t include Sugawara again. He thinks back to first year, when he first met Sugawara and Asahi, to the state of the volleyball team back then, and all the work that’s gone into it to get to where they are now. He pictures the packed gym and bright lights of Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium that he’s only ever seen on TV, the noise and the weight of expectation that comes with each point. The responsibility sits familiar and heavy on his shoulders the way it always does. Because the more matches they win, the further they can get at Nationals, the longer Sugawara gets to stand on the court and the longer they all have with the team. “I’ve thought about it, but I guess I’m focused on getting us there first.”
“Me too.” Sugawara speaks again, softer. “I actually like watching, you know.” He smiles. “Comes with being nosy.”
“Observant,” Daichi corrects. “You’re observant.”
“Yeah, yeah. Captain reassurance package, do I get a pamphlet or something with that?”
From the last few years, Daichi’s been watching Sugawara when he’s loud and smiling, but also when he’s quiet, when he stands to the side, listening more than he speaks, studying his teammates.
Volleyball has always touched him somewhere deep and to Sugawara, being mostly benched seems to have not taken that away. If anything, it seems to have sharpened it. It would be easier, sometimes, to feel resentment or to feel cheated. Easier to sit back and think, I was here first. Sugawara knows that part of himself exists somewhere, dormant but real. He feels it more on bad days, when his legs ache and his hands sting and though his effort has carved out a space for himself, as the one they need to steady the team, the one they all relying on when a match turns frantic, it’s not exactly what he imagined this year to be.
But Sugawara loves volleyball too much for that. He loves it when his fingers ache at the end of the day and his shoulders burn and his lungs feel scraped raw. He loves how he can know exactly what Asahi and where Daichi’s and now so with many others, how they’ve learned to move like one, a well-oiled machine. He values being able to help Kageyama, and he knows that his kindness is part of the reason why they’re here today. But kindness, he has learned, isn’t something that happens on its own. It’s a choice that you have to make over and over again. Daichi’s known this about Sugawara for years, even before Sugawara had the words for it himself.
“It’s not like you stop liking something just because it changes,” Sugawara says, shrugging a little. “You just… figure out how to stick around.”
“I’m glad you stuck around.”
“Well,” Suga says lightly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I’d hope so.”
Daichi grimaces faintly. “I’m trying not to make it weird.”
“Nuh uh, no one’s ever getting rid of me. Wait until we’re old and in a retirement home and I’ll still be there ‘cause we both know my knees are going to last longer than yours.”
Honestly, that doesn’t sound bad at all to Daichi.
The conversation drifts after that, whether Hinata will throw up on the bus ride back (no, he should be too tired to even with the exorbitant amount of food he ate), how their upcoming exams are going to go (well, hopefully), in and out of a comfortable silence.
Eventually, Sugawara shifts, pushing himself up to his feet with a stretch. He offers Daichi a hand without thinking, calloused fingers warm and familiar. Daichi takes it and lets himself be pulled up.“Come on, Captain,” Sugawara says cheerfully. “Let’s get back over there before they demolish all those watermelons without us.” As they walk back toward the group, Sugawara slings an arm around his shoulders.
Daichi lets out a quiet laugh, the knot in his chest finally loosening. “Yeah,” he says. “Wouldn’t want that.”
The Tokyo training camp doesn’t end with fireworks or speeches, but with something bigger that feels earned. Having played against schools much stronger than themselves, Daichi knows that they’ve learned the lessons they would need to fight as a team and they’ve made each other something bigger than any of themselves could be on their own, each changed in small, important ways. On the bus back to Miyagi under a fading sky, he’s surrounded by teammates who feel a little more like family than they did before.
Beside him, Suga’s head bobs up and down periodically as he wakes himself up. Daichi nudges him with his shoulder and Suga takes it , resting his head on Daichi’s shoulder. He lets his hand slip his hand into Suga’s where it rests between them on their shared bus seat, their fingers threading together and gives it a squeeze. A moment later, Suga softly squeezes his hand back.