Chapter Text
The first thing Oikawa noticed about Brazil was the heat. Not the temperature itself, Buenos Aires could be brutally hot in the middle of summer, but the way the warmth seemed to settle over everything. It clung to the pavement, drifted through the air in slow waves and lingered in the ocean breeze rolling in from somewhere beyond the city. It felt alive in a way few places did, as though every street and every beach was vibrating with its own heartbeat..
Rio had a pulse.
He could feel it in the crowded streets outside the terminal as well as in the distant music drifting from open windows, not to mention in the endless stream of people moving with a confidence that suggested they always had somewhere to be.
His team was only here for two days. An exhibition match, a handful of sponsor appearances, a dinner with people who cared far more about marketing than they did volleyball. Then it would be straight back to Argentina. The schedule had been planned down to the hour. Oikawa knew it because he’d checked it three separate times during the flight.
Old habits.
Most people assumed professional athletes eventually grew accustomed to travelling.
He hadn’t.
Oikawa had simply become better at pretending.
By the time he reached the hotel, Oikawa had already reviewed the next day’s schedule, replied to three messages from sponsors, and watched footage from a match he had played less than a week ago.
Naturally his teammates made fun of him for it.
Again.
“You know,” one of them had said, sprawled dramatically across the couch in the hotel lobby, “normal people occasionally relax.”
Oikawa didn’t even look up from his phone.
“Normal people don’t get paid to beat world-class athletes.”
A pillow flew across the room and bounced harmlessly off his shoulder
“See? This is exactly what we’re talking about. You are unbearable”
Oikawa finally glanced up.
“I’ve been told. Frequently. Usually by people who aren’t as good as me”
The resulting outrage was immediate. Someone threw another pillow. Someone else threatened to leave him behind in Brazil. Oikawa ignored all of them and stepped into the elevator just as several increasingly creative insults followed him through the closing doors.
He spent the ride to his floor smiling despite himself.
Some things, at least, never changed.
The exhibition match the following afternoon went smoothly. The crowd was energetic. The sponsors were happy. The team won.
Everything proceeded exactly as it was supposed to.
Which should have been satisfying.
Instead, by the time evening arrived, Oikawa found himself slipping away from his teammates before anyone could convince him to join the celebrations downstairs.
The truth was he was tired. Not physically. Physically he felt fine. His body knew how to handle exhaustion. It had spent most of its life doing exactly that.
It was everything else that felt heavy. The constant movement, the airports, the hotels, the strange sensation of waking up and needing several seconds to remember which country he was in.
For years he had convinced himself that staying busy solved everything. Training solved everything. Winning especially, solved everything.
If there was an empty apartment waiting for him after practice, if birthdays came and went without anyone physically there to celebrate them, if entire months passed in a blur of volleyball and travel and work, then that was simply the price of pursuing what he wanted.
At least, that’s what he told himself. And most days, he even believed it.
Today, however, the thought of loud bars and crowded restaurants was just a little too much to bear.
So, instead he found himself wandering along the beach just before sunset.
The shoreline stretched endlessly ahead, painted gold by the late afternoon sun. Beach volleyball courts lined the sand, many of them still occupied despite the hour. Players called to one another over the crash of the waves. Music drifted from somewhere further down the beach. The atmosphere was oddly comforting. Volleyball always sounded the same, no matter where he went.
Oikawa slowed near one of the courts, watching a rally unfold. A player dove dramatically for a save. Another celebrated a point as though he’d just won a gold medal. Some things were truly universal.
Then he spotted it. A familiar flash of orange.
Oikawa blinked.
Twenty meters away, Hinata Shouyou appeared to be attempting to purchase a coconut through a combination of broken Portuguese, enthusiastic gestures, and unwavering confidence.
The vendor looked bewildered.
Hinata looked convinced everything was going perfectly.
Oikawa stood there for several seconds, watching the interaction unfold. The vendor said something and Hinata responded with something that sounded suspiciously Japanese. The vendor looked even more confused.
Oikawa couldn’t help it. He laughed. The sound escaped before he could stop it.
“Shouyou-chan”
The reaction was immediate.
Hinata froze halfway through handing over his money. For a second he simply stared, blinking as though his brain was struggling to process what his eyes were telling him.
Then recognition hit.
“Oikawa-san?!”
The surprise on his face was almost comical.
His eyes widened. The coconut was forgotten entirely. Even the vendor seemed to become irrelevant.
And then he smiled. Not the polite smile used for strangers. Not the excited grin after winning a point. This one was different, pure happiness mixed with surprise. The kind of smile that arrived before a person had time to think about it.
Bright.
Immediate.
Completely genuine.
And embarrassingly enough, Oikawa felt something in his chest loosen at the sight of it. It had been a while since someone had looked that genuinely happy to see him.
“Didn’t know Brazil was accepting lost tourists now,” he said.
Hinata laughed immediately.
“I’m not lost.”
“You were speaking Japanese.”
“It was working!”
Oikawa glanced toward the vendor again, who still looked deeply uncertain about the entire interaction.
“The vendor looked terrified.”
“Well he understood me eventually.”
Hinata turned back to the vendor and accepted the coconut triumphantly, lifting it slightly as though presenting evidence.
Oikawa simply stared.
“The fact that you used the word eventually is concerning.”
The vendor muttered something under his breath before accepting the money and hurrying off to help another customer.
Hinata looked entirely unbothered.
“I got the coconut didn’t I?”
“Against all odds.”
“That’s still a success.”
“If you say so.”
The grin never left Hinata’s face. Neither, Oikawa realised, did his own.
A few minutes later they were walking along the shoreline together. Oikawa had expected at least a few awkward moments. A brief period of figuring out where to start after so many years apart.
Instead, Hinata launched straight into a story about beach volleyball training before they’d even made it halfway down the beach.
Apparently some other things also never changed.
"...and then the sand got inside literally everything."
"Everything?"
"Everything."
"That's not possible."
"It absolutely is."
Hinata pointed dramatically at him with his coconut.
"You've never trained on a beach."
"I've seen beaches."
"Not the same thing."
The slowly descending sun painted the water gold as they continued walking. Around them, players were beginning to pack up their games for the evening. A few stubborn groups remained on the courts, determined to squeeze out every last minute of daylight.
Hinata barely seemed to notice any of it.
He kept talking.
About training.
About Brazil.
About the language.
About accidentally ordering six sandwiches instead of one during his first month.
“How do you even make that mistake?”
Hinata groaned immediately and dragged a hand down his face.
"I got nervous."
"You multiplied your order by six."
"I panicked."
They stepped around a group of children chasing a volleyball across the sand. One of them nearly collided with Hinata before veering away at the last second.
Hinata pointed after them.
"See? Things happen."
Oikawa stared.
"That doesn't explain anything."
"It does if you were there."
"I wasn't."
"Exactly."
Somehow Hinata looked pleased with that answer and Oikawa laughed despite himself.
The expression on Hinata's face suggested he genuinely believed this was a reasonable defence.
A few years ago it probably would have annoyed him. Now it was mostly amusing.
Hinata continued talking, moving seamlessly into another story before the first one had even properly ended.
Oikawa found himself listening more than speaking. Which wasn't exactly normal. But as the conversation continued at some point he realised something felt different. Not dramatically different, nothing he could point to immediately.
Just little things.
Back in high school, Hinata had always seemed to exist in a permanent state of motion, as though every conversation, every practice, every match was simply another step toward something he hadn't quite reached yet.
That restlessness was still there. But it no longer seemed desperate. There was a confidence to him now.
A steadiness.
The kind that came from finally knowing where you belonged.
Oikawa watched him gesture animatedly while attempting to explain some complicated beach volleyball strategy that seemed to make absolutely no sense, but was impossible to stop listening to.
And yet…
As they walked Oikawa began noticing more little things.
Nothing obvious. Small pauses. Moments where Hinata’s smile lingered a fraction too long. They way his attention would drift when he heard Japanese being spoken nearby. The way conversations about home seemed to slide right past him before they could settle.
Subtle things. Easy to miss for most.
But Oikawa had spent years becoming somewhat of an expert at disguising loneliness. Recognising it in someone else seemed almost too easy.
The sun had almost disappeared by the time they settled beside an empty court. The sand still warm beneath them. Ahead, the ocean stretched all the way to the horizon, reflecting streaks of orange and pink across its surface.
For a while neither of them spoke. Yet, surprisingly, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. The waves filled the gaps nicely. A group nearby continued playing as darkness crept slowly across the beach. Their laughter occasionally drifted over on the wind.
Eventually Oikawa glanced sideways.
“How long have you been here now?” He asked,
“In Brazil?”
“No, Antarctica.”
Hinata rolled his eyes.
“Almost a year.”
A year.
Oikawa looked back at the ocean. A year. Long enough for the excitement of moving abroad to wear off. Long enough for the homesickness to settle into something quieter. Something harder to talk about.
“Have you been back to Japan?”
Hinata’s smile faltered. Only slightly.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly. Oikawa felt a familiar ache somewhere deep inside his chest because he remembered. The first year in Argentina. The first holidays spent alone, the first birthday where nobody was there and especially the first time he realised that chasing a dream sometimes meant leaving pieces of yourself behind.
“Do you miss it?” The question slipped out before Oikawa could stop himself.
For a moment Hinata didn’t answer. The wind coming off the ocean stirred the loose strands of his hair. Somewhere behind them a whistle blew from one of the courts before being swallowed by the sound of the waves.
For several long seconds Hinata simply watched the water.
Then he laughed softly.
“That’s kind of a dangerous question.”
Oikawa shifted slightly.
“Why?”
Hinata dug his fingers into the sand beside him.
“I don’t know..” He began, his gaze remaining firmly fixed on a spot by his foot. “Because if I say yes, it starts to sound like I regret being here.”
Oikawa felt something tighten unexpectedly in his chest because he understood immediately, it was the kind of thing he'd spent years telling himself. If you choose this life, you aren’t allowed to complain about the consequences. If you achieve your dream, you aren’t allowed to feel lonely. As though happiness and homesickness couldn’t coexist. As though missing something automatically meant you wanted to give it up.
“What if you do miss it?” He asked.
Hinata was quiet. The sun dipped lower toward the horizon.
“Sometimes…” Hinata hesitated.
Then he laughed, embarrassed.
“Sometimes I hear Japanese on the street and I want to follow the people around, just so I can listen a little bit longer.
“That’s a little creepy.” Oikawa said with a small smile.
“I know.”
“Actually, very creepy.”
Hinata nudged him with his shoulder.
“But I miss hearing it, you know?" the words came more quietly this time. “And I miss my family.” The confession seemed to surprise even Hinata himself. “I miss my friends.” His voice softened even further. “I miss knowing where everything is.”
That last one made Oikawa chuckle a little.
Hinata’s cheeks turned slightly red and he looked away embarrassed.
“It’s just that back home, I knew where my favourite convenience store was. I knew which train to take. I knew where everything belonged. Here, some days I feel like I'm borrowing someone else’s life.”
For a moment neither of them spoke. The words lingered between them. Because Oikawa knew exactly what he meant. The strange disconnect. The feeling of existing somewhere without entirely belonging there. There’s a constant awareness that every familiar thing is thousands of kilometres away.
Usually he would have deflected, made a joke, changed the subject. But somehow, sitting here beside someone who understood made the effort feel unnecessary.
“You know, “ Oikawa said quietly, “I thought training harder would fix it.”
Hinata looked over.
“The loneliness.” Oikawa clarified. Even now saying it the word felt strange. Unfamiliar. Like something he hadn’t said aloud in years.
“So, I trained more.” He continued with a small smile.
“Then more.” The smile began to fade.
“Then even more.”
Because exhaustion was easier than overthinking. If every minute was occupied then there’s no room for anything else.
“Did it work?” Hinata asked quietly.
Oikawa looked toward the darkening horizon, before letting out a small laugh.
“Of course not.”
Hinata smiled. Not sympathetically, not pityingly. Just knowingly. As though he’d expected that answer all along.
The city lights slowly began appearing along the coastline. One by one. Tiny golden reflections dancing across the water and for a while both of them sat there simply watching. And somewhere, during the quiet, something shifted.
Not dramatically.
Not all at once.
Just enough for Oikawa to notice.
Then his phone buzzed. A message from his manager popping up on the screen.
Flight confirmed. 7:15 AM departure.
Oikawa stared at the screen longer than necessary. Tomorrow morning. Normally it would have felt routine. Another airport, another flight, another entry in a schedule that never seemed to slow down.
Instead he found himself mentally calculating exactly how many hours remained before sunrise.
Across from him, Hinata was absentmindedly drawing lines in the sand.
The realisation for OIkawa was deeply irritating.
He hadn’t spent enough time in Rio to become attached to it. Hell, he’d barely even seen the city. Which left only one explanation.
He chose not to examine the thought too closely.
When he looked up, Hinata was already watching him.
“You have to go?”
The disappointment in his voice was subtle. But it was there. And for reasons he couldn’t fully explain, Oikawa’s heartbeat stumbled.
“Tomorrow morning.” He nodded.
“Oh.”
Just one word. Barely even a word really. Yet it somehow carried more weight than entire conversations.
The ocean stretched endlessly in front of them. The city glowed in the distance. Neither seemed entirely sure what to say next.
Eventually Hiata looked up and smiled. Small, a little uncertain, but there.
“Then we’ll just have to play together next time you’re here.”
Oikawa froze. There was no maybe, no if, no hopefully. Just simple certainty. As though meeting again was inevitable. As though Oikawa naturally belonged in a future Hinata imagined,
The warmth that spread through Oikwa’s chest caught him completely off guard.
“Yeah.” He said.
And for once the answer came without effort.
“I’d like that.”
Hinata’s smile brightened immediately. There it was again. That ridiculous, bright like the sun, infectious grin. One that made people want to smile back before they realised they were doing it.
Eventually they stood. The beach had grown dark now, only illuminated by streetlights and restaurant signs. People continued to drift through the evening crowd. Life was moving forward around them.
Hinata waved before turning away.
“See you again Oikawa-san!”
Oikawa lifted his hand.
“Try not to terrorise any more coconut vendors.” He shouted back.
“No promises.” Hinata laughed, then he disappeared into the crowd.
The flash of orange remained visible for a while, before vanishing completely.
Only then did Oikawa turn to start making his way back towards his hotel. Back towards tomorrow’s flight, toward Argentina and back to the life he had carefully built for himself. Yet for the first time in years, home felt a little less certain. Because part of him was already looking forward to the next trip to Brazil.
And the troubling part was that he was fairly certain volleyball had very little to do with it.