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Ushijima thought about Shirabu.
Kageyama and Hinata stood in front of him arguing about what he meant by having a setter devoted to the ace, and they devolved into tangents he couldn't follow, slipping into a mention of Oikawa and then back around to Kageyama before Ushijima could say anything. They addressed each other and barely acknowledged him for a few moments.
Ushijima remained silent. He didn't take devotion lightly. It was actually difficult to find it in other players, when he looked; if it wasn't observable, he assumed it didn't exist. Most teenage associations came down to weak tenuous bonds that only held under the pretense of practicing and playing together. And it showed. Some of the weakest teams Ushijima had ever seen couldn't connect to their setter, or to each other, and nothing could synchronize enough to gain a momentum. Occasionally it was so bad that the team lost to Shiratorizawa with zero points.
If Ushijima had to draw an analogy, he'd compare it to everything else. That expressed the magnitude of it, being devoted to someone. To write a book is to know something like the back of your hand; to do anything, and succeed, is to know something inside and out. Even if it's not obvious. If it's not obvious, that's a greater sign. Preparation served best when it didn't show. The foundation of a house doesn't show.
That was the feeling Shirabu gave him. There was no need to grapple for words or anything else with him, a steady bedrock of earth and leylines between them that Ushijima didn't completely understand but still supported him. Their trust was so obvious it didn't have to be stated. Shirabu instilled preparedness with the depth of his security. His support was so strong that it wasn't noticeable, and that made it special.
Kageyama and Hinata paused to breathe, and he finally interrupted them. Someone in turn interrupted them and made them leave. He was left standing by himself outside the open door of the gym.
He couldn't deny their tenacity. Not when it was presented right in front of him. Without any immediate relevancy, it faded to a hum of thought, and Ushijima returned to the gym for practice.
Washijou approached him. "What was that? Why were you interrupted from practice?"
Ushijima's eyes shifted. "Outside students asked to see Shiratorizawa."
By Washijou's grumble and raised eyebrow, Ushijima guessed it was the wrong thing to do.
"Why?"
"They were from Karasuno's volleyball team. I didn't see the harm in letting them come."
Washijou's frown grew into a grimace. It was wrong, then.
"You let competitors in to see the competition?" Washijou shook his head. "You're right, they're not a threat, but don't do that again."
"I won't."
Washijou sighed and walked away. He didn't raise his voice, but the interaction still incurred Tendou's snickering. Tendou appeared at Ushijima's side and hovered around him, tilting his head with his mouth open.
"Our captain in hot water! You don't see that every day." Tendou withdrew to stand straight. "Keep your heart of gold to yourself, Wakatoshi."
"I wasn't in that much trouble."
Tendou continued, "I don't wanna walk into the gym one day and see a tragedy instead of Wakatoshi."
"I don't understand what you're saying." Ushijima turned and moved to the court before their practice break could end.
He found himself next to Shirabu. Aside from light practice, no one was exerting themselves during the small break after the long run. Shirabu stretched his arm lazily and stared into the distance.
"I heard Washijou get a little mad," Shirabu said. Ushijima stiffened. "You're too nice."
"Tendou told me the same."
"I'm not surprised." Shirabu switched arms.
He didn't say anything else. His usual silence had developed into an idiosyncrasy that Ushijima came to depend on and fall into, and it materialized now with the lightness of a cloud, unable to be touched but still soft. Ushijima didn't feel forced to speak in his presence to fill any silence or atmosphere.
"Shirabu," Ushijima said, "what do you think it means to be a devoted setter or ace?"
"I think that whatever you're thinking about, you're overthinking it." Shirabu pulled his arm closer to himself.
Ushijima tried to follow his line of sight to the wall. He wound back around to Shirabu's arm and the muscle tightened over his chest. It only flickered for a moment, but his body still defined obvious muscle in his arms and legs, and his shoulders carried him well, small with the breadth of a river.
Shirabu caught him looking. He turned away quickly, but it was too late for him to hide. He felt hot to his face, premature heat before he could even run again, and it burned and struck vague embarrassment. He separated to place distance between them.
Ushijima could keep calm. He was almost always tapped into some sort of unresponsive calmness, and the possibility of hiding in it comforted him.
None of it prepared him for the end of practice. Someone swept a mop near his feet without warning, and he tripped and fell over Shirabu. He knocked Shirabu down, but he managed to keep himself from landing on him, his hands slamming on the floor and holding himself up in a sudden pushup.
He stared down at Shirabu, his face red and his brain immobilized alongside his arms and legs. Shirabu's face jumped into his vision. The warmth of Shirabu's breath cemented the reality of the closeness, and he watched Shirabu's eyes go wide and his shoulders go stiff. His attention drifted to Shirabu's lips.
"Uh, Ushijima...can you get off?"
Ushijima kept himself at the gazing distance for another space of time. Shirabu's words sunk in, and he spurred himself to get up.
Behind them, Semi yanked the broom out of Tendou's hands. "Watch where you sweep. You tripped Wakatoshi!"
Shirabu swiveled to them. "Tendou?" He missed no time to recover as he spun away quickly.
Ushijima sat back on his knees and stayed quiet. He watched the back of Shirabu's head as he scolded Tendou. His skin led up from the top of his back to the bottom of his head, his hair fading down to soft-looking wisps. Ushijima knew what the baby hairs of his own neck felt like, he experienced it under his fingers occasionally, but the temporary distraction of Shirabu's made him consider the thought of caressing Shirabu's neck.
Shirabu turned back. "Did it hurt?"
"Did what hurt?" Ushijima asked.
"When you fell." Shirabu tilted his head to gauge Ushijima's body.
It reminded him of what he did, and he angled slightly away, his face hot. "Sorry. That was an accident."
"It was honestly Tendou's fault." Shirabu grumbled and got to his feet. He headed to the locker room still mumbling.
Ushijima's face felt tight in a frown, his skin drawn to the wrinkles that composed it. It deepened the feeling of a blush in his cheeks.