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They say that high school locker rooms are a melting pot of odd discussions. Kuroo knows this for a fact because it’s in the lockers of the third gym in Fukurodani, where he had his first conversation with Bokuto. That guy went from talking about how long one should cook each side of the meat at the training camp yakiniku to hounding Kuroo about how he makes his hair stick up like that all day. The conversations he has in his own team’s gym back in Nekoma are hardly ever as interesting.
Until now.
“Did you hear? Matsura-senpai confessed to someone during morning practice.”
Kai is the last person that Kuroo expected to gossip but he supposes that any news about Matsura, famous for warming the bench for three years straight, would pique anyone’s interest. Despite never making it onto the starting lineup, he was quite a boisterous fellow. The one that cheered the loudest and picked up everyone’s spirits when games were getting intense. With the Spring Interhigh having concluded weeks ago, Matsura and the other third years are set to graduate soon.
“Eh, really?” Yaku pokes his head into the hole of his practice jersey. “Too bad the three of us missed it ‘cause of that stupid class project we had for Homeroom.”
Kuroo let out a dramatic sigh in agreement. “Agreed. Guess he’s tying loose ends before he and the other senpais head off to college. D’you know who he confessed to, Kai?”
There’s a brief pause in the conversation—one that Kuroo wouldn’t have found odd if it weren’t for the way Kai is looking at him like he’s about to break some bad news.
“…It was Kyrie-san.”
The wing spiker utters the words so quietly, his voice was almost lost in the din of the running showers. Kuroo feels a slight prickle in his chest at the mention of Vicki’s name. Something he doesn’t dwell on for too long because, Yaku started mirroring the look on Kai’s face, making Kuroo whip his head between the both of them in confusion.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Yaku scowls at him. “You’re okay with it?”
“With what?”
“Him confessing to Kyrie.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Kuroo makes a face, genuinely puzzled by their puzzlement. “About time Miss Student Council finally got a boyfriend. Did she accept Matsura-san’s confession?”
Kai presses his lips into a thin line before saying, “No. She rejected him.”
Oh.
Bearing the words in mind, Kuroo nods slowly. “Well that does sound like her.”
At that moment, Yaku looked as if he was about to say more, but the sound of their captain’s voice booms from the entrance of the locker rooms, telling the younger members to hurry up for practice. This inevitably cut their little conversation short, and Kuroo tries his best to just forget about the entire thing. He wasn’t even there to witness it for himself anyway.
But once practice is over, and he and Kenma meet up with Vicki for a mandated after-school convenience store run, he can’t help but fish for a few more details.
“Soooo,” Kuroo drawls as he sets down his energy drink on the cramped tables outside. “A little bird told me that Miss Student Council has an admirer.”
In his peripheral, he can see Kenma eyeing him curiously as the setter nibbles on a rice ball. He can tell what his friend must be thinking—that Kuroo probably has some ulterior motive for interrogating Vicki like this out of the blue. But Kenma’s concept of social cues is as refined as Bokuto’s concept of subtlety (which to say, is nearly nonexistent).
So Kuroo dismisses his scrutiny in favor of watching Vicki choke on her food.
“W-what are you talking about?” she sputters.
“Matsura-senpai of course!” the middle blocker laughs. “I’m actually surprised you two know each other.”
Once she’s regained her composure, Vicki narrows her eyes at Kuroo, the warmth on her cheeks still lingering as she avoids his gaze entirely. “We worked together for a booth at the school festival. Matsura-senpai did lots of heavy lifting for us, and… I dunno. He kind of just stuck around. He always greets me whenever I drop by the gym to watch you you during games or practice, so…”
Her casually admitting to going to Nekoma’s practices and games for him makes Kuroo a bit smug, as though he’s won some sort of contest with no other clear contenders. But the fact that Matsura and Vicki have seemingly grown close without him noticing at all…
It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.
“Interesting.” Kuroo hums. “You really don’t like the guy? Girls confess to him all the time even when he never plays in official games.”
“Matsura-san is a good person,” she murmurs. “It’s just… I couldn’t accept his feelings.”
This makes him lean forward, resting his chin in his hand with a teasing smirk. “Oh? Is it because our resident model student is too busy for romance? Or are your standards just that high—”
“There’s already someone else I like.”
They all fall quiet, the only sound ringing in his ears being the hum of the cheap neon lights on the store’s display windows. Vicki doesn’t offer a name, or even a hint and quickly shuts down the topic by taking a sip of her drink. All while Kenma watches this all pan out like he’s filing it away for later.
Though the shit-eating grin on Kuroo’s face falters for half a second, he manages to force out a laugh, deflecting with a joke like he always does.
But long after they part ways at the crossroads, Vicki’s admission loops continuously in Kuroo’s head. Walking alongside Kenma under the streetlights, he feels a weird discomfort in his chest that he can’t quite name.
And it rears its ugly head at him come tomorrow.
To give the third years a proper send-off, the volleyball club organized a casual scrimmage—third years versus everyone else. It’s supposed to be a lighthearted affair full of loud laughs and banter that they’ll all look back on fondly for years to come.
But the moment the whistle blows, Kuroo’s eyes focus solely on Matsura.
Whenever Matsura rotates onto the front row, Kuroo makes sure that he’s there to block him off. He reads his approach flawlessly, leaping with a suffocating press that roof-blocks the ball straight back into his senior’s face.
Even when Kuroo goes back to serving line, he doesn’t opt for his usual. He targets a tricky corner where Matsura is standing, sending an aggressive float serve that he’s never once been able to pull off properly until now. This forces the older boy into a clumsy receive that costs the seniors another point.
The moment a time-out is called, Kuroo grabs a water bottle that he halves in seconds, feeling a bit keyed up despite their team going toe-to-toe with the third years. Before he can reflect on what the reason for this might be, Kenma walks up to him with a deadpan but inquisitive expression.
“Kuro,” he starts, his brows cinching together. “Why’re you being weird?”
“Weird how? It’s a send-off match. We gotta give the senpais our best.” Kuroo reasons with a shrug. “Besides, can’t a prospective captain get a little fired up? How am I supposed to convince them I’m worthy if I don’t do at least this mu—”
“You’re targeting Matsura-senpai,” Kenma cuts him off flatly. “You don’t usually play this aggressively. What’s got you so irritated?”
The question makes the breath catch in Kuroo’s throat. He opens his mouth to laugh it off, or make some snarky comment about competitive spirit. But when he looks across the net, he sees Matsura wiping the sweat off his forehead, still grinning and high-fiving his teammates despite being brutally shut down all game.
Kuroo’s grip tightens around the water bottle.
He isn’t mad at Matsura for liking Vicki. This is the guy who gives it his all regardless of the outcome. Whether it’s playing volleyball or laying his feelings for a girl he likes on the line, Matsura never cuts corners and proudly wears his heart on his sleeve.
Meanwhile, Kuroo has grown comfortable in hiding behind the safety of being Vicki’s friend, masking his own growing attachment with banter and cheap teasing because he’s too terrified to risk losing her.
“I’m not irritated,” he mutters before finishing the rest of his water with a refreshed sigh. “Come on. Game’s starting again.”
They all step back onto the court as the whistle blows to resume play. But the unease in Kuroo’s chest only seems to double. He makes the mistake of looking across the net, towards his loud, boisterous senior, and realizes Kuroo isn’t exactly targeting him. No, he’s taking out his own cowardice on the guy who was brave enough to do what he couldn’t.
Is this all he boils down to? Someone who claims to be ambitious enough to vie for the title of Nekoma’s next captain, yet can’t stand the idea of others confessing to someone he may or may not have feelings for? Hell, Kuroo hasn’t even sat down on the idea that Vicki already has someone she likes. But that’s a whole can of worms he’ll deal with some other time. For now, he’ll do his best to leave his mark on his senpais’ hearts by the end of this game.
…And hopefully figure out how to grow a backbone and confess on his own terms.