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Kageyama believes he got a little lucky in life.
One might rightly say it’s because he had an early start at playing volleyball. Miwa, for one, would never shut up about how he clutched the ball with an iron grip back when he was barely its size himself.
He could hardly sit without support, yet his tiny, chubby arms were already wrapped halfway around it, drool smeared across its surface.
But Kageyama would argue. He doesn’t remember it, so it never happened. It’s all Miwa’s imagination and her knack for exaggerating to needle her brother.
What Kageyama does remember is the warmth of his grandpa’s hand and the twinkle in his eyes as he introduced volleyball to him. The memory is hazy, but the colour and scent of the gym have stayed vivid to this day.
So maybe he’d agree with that much. It certainly helped that his grandpa coached a neighbourhood team. And more than that, he was always glued to Kazuyo’s side.
With a vabo-chan plushie in one hand and Kazuyo’s in the other, Kageyama first learned what volleyball was at the age of three.
Since then, he’s had his height. That was enough. He didn’t need any more luck.
Everything else came from his unwavering diligence and hard work. Not a single day passed that wasn’t given to volleyball. From filing his nails to each page in his journal, it was all a testament to his love for the sport.
Then someone came along who carried the same love. Hinata Shouyou.
A mere thirty-one minutes of a game. An absurd high jump of his. A spike that was out by a whisker only.
Kageyama’s life changed for the better. Hinata, true to his name, burned bright as the sun—hina, in every sense of it.
That was probably why Kageyama had been struggling to fall asleep since.
The first winter of high school, their futons were a few inches apart. The room lay quiet in the dark, broken only by Tanaka’s soft snores and, occasionally from Nishinoya’s, the rest of the team already knocked out.
Well, except Hinata.
Because Kageyama heard the faint shuffle of sheets that slowly, steadily drew nearer. He kept his eyes firmly shut, body still, breath even—
“Yama-yama.”
Kageyama didn’t answer. He remained perfectly motionless.
Yet the next moment, he felt a small tug at his covers followed by a murmured, “Are you asleep?”
On instinct, Kageyama opened his mouth, about to bark an insult, but he reined it in. “Yes,” he said instead, flat and curt.
A low chorus of giggles spilled out immediately.
“Dumbass. You’re going to wake everyone up,” Kageyama hurried in a whisper. “If we lose tomorrow, it’s on you. I’ll never toss to you again.”
Hinata gasped. “No… take that back—”
“Sleep, idiot. We have Nationals. You need to rest to—”
“—to play well,” Hinata finished for him. “I know but I’m so excited. Aren’t you?”
Kageyama simply let out a long-suffering sigh.
“You aren’t sleeping either!” Hinata murmured, sliding closer. He tugged again on the covers.
“What now?” Kageyama snapped.
“Shh, you’ll disturb everyone,” Hinata whispered. “Come here.”
Kageyama didn’t budge. And Hinata tugged—once, then again—until Kageyama huffed, rolled onto his side, and leaned in.
“Do you know how I started playing volleyball?” Hinata asked but didn’t wait for a response. “I was on my bike, on my way to play baseball. Then I saw him on TV. The Little Giant. He jumped—”
Kageyama opened his eyes. “Stupid. It’s not the time to…” He trailed off.
Their faces were close—close enough that Hinata’s breath brushed warm against his cheeks. Kageyama snuggled deeper into his blanket, pulling it up to his chin.
“I decided on the spot that I want to play volleyball,” Hinata went on. “So in junior high…”
Even in the dark, the glint in those brown eyes was unmistakable. The same twinkle as Kazuyo’s. And, maybe, Kageyama’s own, too.
“Can you believe I was the only member?” Hinata paused for a dramatic effect and pushed himself onto his elbows. “I never gave up though. I kept practising…”
Kageyama was barely listening. His attention was gone, snagged on the wild orange hair, tufting in every direction. The curls were messier than usual, and slowly, they fell loose over Hinata’s forehead, soft and distracting.
Suddenly, Hinata dipped closer. “Awake?” he asked, hovering just above Kageyama’s pillow. “You are!”
A smile broke on Hinata’s face. Their noses almost touched. A noise stuttered in Kageyama’s throat.
He watched Hinata’s lips curve up, lifting his cheeks, crinkling his eyes. Kageyama shifted away, just a fraction. It hardly mattered.
“Where was I again? Yeah—I used to practice with the girls’ team,” Hinata continued. “I also had Izumi and Kouji…”
With each word, Kageyama’s sleep receded, gradual as the tide. And as natural as that, his focus lingered on the many of Hinata’s expressions—a pout, followed by an indecipherable gesture of hands, then a triumphant little ba-bam.
Until, eventually, Hinata’s voice began to slur, and he hit the sack. First.
Kageyama stared at him, incredulous, unblinking. Annoyance crept in, and he reached over, nudged Hinata’s blanket down just enough to leave his chest exposed.
Hinata didn’t stir. A few seconds passed.
Kageyama clicked his tongue, pulled the blanket back up, and tucked it even more securely around his shoulders. With a huff, he turned away onto his side, muttering, “Idiot.”
Sleep didn’t claim him for another ten minutes.
Unfortunately, for Kageyama, that was just the beginning. Because the sun may have set in the sky, but Hinata beamed all day long. The night, too, included.
So by the end of high school, Kageyama had acclimated to the constant warmth on his skin—and his heart. The evidence was the faint tan dusting on his arms. And it was definitely not from all the summer camps he spent running up and down the hill as penalty drills.
However, it couldn’t compare to the tan Hinata picked up on the sand in Rio.
Kageyama’s phone screen glowed like the sun itself against his face, stubborn and harsh. And Hinata, on the other side of the call and the world, had his face dotted with a generous amount of sunscreen.
“Yama, do you remember Heitor? The tall guy I told you about?” Hinata said, rubbing the cream deep into his cheeks. “We’re partnering up for a game later.”
“Everyone’s tall for you,” Kageyama murmured, voice low as he sank further into his pillow. The bedroom around him stayed dark, save for the small night lamp in the corner.
“He’s taller than you!” Hinata squawked. Then he moved, the camera panning down over his neck and shoulders. A bottle popped open, and he applied more. “What I want to say is—he’s planning to propose to his girlfriend…”
Kageyama followed the motion, the white sheen glinting on caramel skin, gliding along the curves and dips.
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Stop using the call as you mirror, dumbass.”
Hinata only grinned. “Nope. Never.” Without missing another beat, he carried on, “Nice is so in love with him. He has nothing to worry about. He has this plan…”
An incoherent grumble was all Kageyama could offer.
So yeah, Hinata shone intense during the summer, enough to easily defy the time zones and keep Kageyama awake.
The chatter, though, proved to be quite effective. Kageyama was almost lulled under, drifting off. It wasn't until the phone slipped in his grip that Hinata noticed.
“Sleeping?” he asked, then dropped to a whisper. “Good night.”
Kageyama heard it. It was so tender, he felt his ears grow hot. And somewhere in his dazed mind, a plan formed—his own kind of sun protection.
All he had to do was pretend to be asleep, and Hinata would finally quiet down.
The plan came with so many perks, Kageyama had silently added a secret point to his tally. Surely, the odds were in his favour.
For the next many years, Kageyama basked happily in the glory of the sun.
They were tangled in the sheets, their chests pressed flush together, warm against the autumn air. They had played earlier as Japan’s 9 and 10, a match so brutal that Kageyama felt the burn down to his bones.
The hotel room was washed in amber from the city lights bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The curtains hung open, yet neither of them cared, too exhausted to leave the bed, or each other.
Instead, Kageyama was sprawled over Hinata, an arm and a leg draped across him.
“We should have played more offensively from the start,” Hinata said, his hand drifting under Kageyama’s shirt. “We could have shut them down quicker.”
Kageyama nodded, his head on Hinata’s shoulder. “Especially when their number 18 subbed in.”
“That rally!” Hinata beamed. “He rotated to the front…” His fingers traced lazy circles on Kageyama’s waist, tapped twice, then slid into a straight line. “We could’ve countered…”
“Something like that,” Kageyama mumbled, nestling his face into the crook of Hinata’s neck.
“It would have been better. I’ve played that strategy against Italy before—” Hinata bumped his head to Kageyama’s. “—against you, Amor!”
Only a short, stifled chuckle came in response.
“Do you remember?” Hinata’s fingers continued their waltz—more circles, taps, lines—a mini-court on Kageyama’s skin. “The third set. Ali Roma on set point. The counter where I was the decoy for…”
Kageyama let out a hum, the sound a soft tickle against his ear.
“You set a high ball...” Hinata cut himself off.
The room fell into silence. There was no answer from Kageyama, only the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing.
“Good night,” Hinata murmured into Kageyama’s temple, planting a quick kiss. His hand drifted idly up and down Kageyama’s spine, the touch practised, a gentle graze.
Then, as his eyelids grew heavy, his fingers wandered to the inky black hair, combing through the strands, lingering at the nape. At last, Hinata dimmed, the sun blanketed by the clouds of sleep.
So these were the perks of Kageyama’s plan. He feigned sleep, only to doze off for real, tucked in Hinata’s arms, receiving countless caresses on his skin. It worked in his favour.
Until it wasn’t.
The spring after their retirement, they were joined by a tiny, calico kitten in their bed. Hinata named her Amore, and she had them both wrapped around her paws, so much so that every night she curled up on Hinata’s chest.
“Amore,” Hinata cooed, thumbs massaging gently over her head. “Do you know how your grumpy-dad confessed to me? Even though, we were already dating.”
Kageyama scoffed from beside. “No. We weren’t!” He lay on his side, an arm and a leg spread across Hinata as usual.
Hinata paid him no mind. “My feelings were so obvious. The whole world knew,” he told the kitten. “Still, he was scared. He was sweating, shaking in his—”
“No! I wasn’t—”
“So I kissed him,” Hinata finished, and Amore purred against his palm. “Yes. Exactly. I pulled him down by his collar and kissed him stupid.”
“Shou! No,” Kageyama groaned, flopping onto his pillow. “You shouldn’t say that to her.”
Finally, Hinata turned to him, one brow raised. “Why? Are you worried your reputa—”
“Because…” Kageyama paused, searching for his words before adding, helplessly, “she’s still a baby.”
Hinata bit back a giggle. “Amore,” he whispered to her conspiratorially, “Your grumpy-dad’s a bit silly.”
Kageyama swatted at his shoulder. “I can hear you, stupid.”
“Anyway. That was a point for me.” Hinata remained unfazed, lifting his hand, a gold band glinting on his ring finger. “I was the first one to propose him, too.”
Before Kageyama could even open his mouth, Amore reached out a paw, and Hinata launched into it, louder, “It was his birthday. I planned a beach match. Then surprised him with this romantic setup—all sunset, tulips, candles…”
“I had a plan too,” Kageyama grumbled quietly, defeated.
Yet the next moment, his eyes softened at the sight of Hinata and Amore, both lit in a yellow glow from the night lamp like a sun. Hinata continued his reminiscence, deftly stroking along Amore’s back.
And then, Amore yawned.
“Tobio.” Hinata nudged him. “Look! She loves this,” he whispered, easing the pressure of his fingers against her orange-black fur. “Just like you. So cute.”
Kageyama frowned, caught off-guard. “What do you mean?”
“She loves cuddles and bedtime stories,” Hinata answered, grinning. “Just like you. She’s about to fall asleep.”
“I…” Kageyama stammered, face growing hot. “I—I don’t!”
Hinata stared at him, then nodded solemnly. “No need to be shy. I know you love it. I’ve known for years—"
“I only did to get you be quiet!” Kageyama blurted out all at once. “You talk too much.”
Hinata blinked, once, twice, then broke into a small laugh. “Tobio. Amor. You’re so silly.”
“I am not—”
Hinata leaned in, pressing their lips together, his smile curving into it. As they parted, he murmured, “I love—” another kiss, soft and slow “—talking and cuddling with you to sleep.”
And Kageyama melted into the mattress, inevitable under his sun’s warmth. He still, silently, secretly considers the plan his win.
After all, he got a little lucky in life.
A little because Hinata’s short. If he didn’t count that, he’d say he got very, very lucky in life.