Work Text:
Kageyama had braced himself for a nightmare.
Karasuno’s weekend team-bonding trip to the aquarium sounded like a recipe for a sensory disaster. He had stepped off the bus with his hands jammed deep into his tracksuit pockets, anticipating unpredictable crowds, echoing acoustics, and the chaotic, overlapping chatter of hundreds of strangers.
"Alright, everyone, listen up! Stick to the buddy system!" Daichi’s voice boomed over the shrieks of a nearby elementary school group. He pointed sternly at Tanaka and Nishinoya, who were already vibrating with excitement. "Do not wander off alone, and meet back at the food court at one o'clock sharp!"
Before Kageyama could even process who he was supposed to pair up with, a hand lightly grabbed the sleeve of his jacket.
"We're buddies, Kageyama! Come on!" Hinata chirped, already steering him away from the loud ticketing area and toward the entrance of the exhibits.
Kageyama grumbled, but he let himself be pulled along.
The moment they stepped through the heavy double doors into the first exhibit, Kageyama was pleasantly surprised. They were plunged into a winding, dimly lit corridor that housed the deep-sea and bioluminescent creatures.
The environment shifted instantly. The walls were painted a dark matte black, focusing all the soft, glowing light purely on the tanks. The thick acrylic glass swallowed the sharp noises of the crowd, reducing the ambient sound to a low, steady, white-noise hum of the filtration systems.
It felt exactly like slipping beneath the surface of the ocean. The gravity in the room felt different—slower, heavier, and completely peaceful.
Kageyama stopped walking so fast, letting out a long breath he didn't realize he had been holding. The tight, defensive coil that usually sat heavy in his chest completely unraveled.
Beside him, Hinata had gone uncharacteristically quiet. As they walked slowly through the dark corridor, Kageyama glanced over. The soft, neon glow from a tank of comb jellies was reflecting on Hinata's face. It cast his bright orange hair in a muted, coppery tone and made his wide brown eyes look incredibly soft.
Suddenly, Kageyama’s stomach did a strange, complicated flip.
He frowned, pressing a hand to his stomach. Must be motion sickness from the bus, he thought logically. But his heart was beating a little faster than normal, a strange flutter knocking against his ribs. He forcefully looked away from Hinata and back at the fish, deciding his internal organs were just acting up because he had skipped breakfast.
They navigated the quiet, winding tunnels side-by-side until the corridor opened up into the massive central pavilion.
A floor-to-ceiling pelagic tank dominated the room. The sheer volume of water suspended in front of him was staggering. The light filtered down through the water column in soft, shifting rays, mimicking the weightless isolation of the deep sea.
A massive manta ray glided past the glass, its massive pectoral fins rippling like wings. It was a perfect, predictable trajectory—governed by biology and physics, making complete, logical sense to Kageyama's brain.
Hinata stayed right next to Kageyama, standing in the cool blue glow of the tank. He reached into his own jacket pocket and pulled out a familiar, slightly battered paperback book. A Beginner's Guide to Japanese Sign Language. Kageyama had been carrying it everywhere since Tsukishima gave it to him, but he had accidentally left it on his bus seat in his rush to escape the noise. Hinata must have grabbed it for him.
"I want to practice," Hinata whispered. His voice naturally dropped to match the hushed reverence of the room.
The spiker opened the book, squinting slightly in the dim light. He looked at a page, tucked the book under his arm, looked up at the tank, and then clumsily brought his hands up. He flattened his palms, stacked his hands on top of each other, and wiggled his thumbs, mimicking the swimming motion of a fish.
He looked at Kageyama, his eyebrows raised in a silent question. Right?
Kageyama stared at Hinata's hands. That weird, unexplainable warmth bloomed in his chest again, flooding his system much faster this time. He couldn't figure out why his throat suddenly felt a little tight.
Kageyama reached out and lightly held Hinata's wrists, adjusting the angle of his hands to make the sign more precise.
"Like this," Kageyama murmured softly, trying to ignore the sudden heat rushing to the tips of his ears.
Hinata grinned, a bright, sunny expression that somehow perfectly complemented the deep marine blue. He adjusted his hands, signing fish again, much smoother this time. Then, with a look of intense concentration, he fumbled through another sign they had practiced earlier in the week.
Water.
Kageyama nodded, a rare, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He raised his own hands, moving them in a fluid, flawless motion.
Volleyball.
Hinata’s grin widened, and he eagerly copied the motion.
They stood there for a long time by the main tank. While the rest of Karasuno ran through the crowded exhibits, the setter and the spiker stayed anchored in the quiet, weightless atmosphere. Surrounded by the slow, predictable glide of the manta rays, Kageyama practiced his signs.
🏐🏐🏐🏐🏐🏐🏐🏐🏐🏐🏐🏐🏐🏐🏐🏐🏐
Three hours later, the bus ride back to Miyagi was predictably chaotic. Tanaka and Nishinoya were having a screaming match in the back row about what kind of meat buns to buy at the rest stop, and Sugawara was already rubbing his temples in defeat.
Kageyama, however, was perfectly fine. He was slouched against the window seat, the world completely muted by the familiar, heavy silence of Tsukishima’s white noise-canceling headphones. The soft hum of the active technology felt like a perfect continuation of the aquarium’s quiet, deep-water pressure.
A gentle pressure tapped against his shoulder.
Kageyama turned his head. Hinata was sitting next to him. The late afternoon sun was streaming through the bus window, catching the bright orange of Hinata's hair and casting a warm, golden glow across his face.
That strange, persistent flutter violently knocked against Kageyama’s ribs again. He pressed his lips into a thin line, stubbornly ignoring that and raising an eyebrow at Hinata. what?
Hinata didn't try to talk to him or motion for him to take the headphones off. He just smiled, his eyes bright and warm. Slowly, he brought his hands up to his chest. He hooked his two index fingers together, tapping them side-by-side, and tilted his head with a bright, questioning look.
Friends?
Kageyama’s eyes widened slightly. The warmth in his chest flooded his entire system, chasing away any lingering tension from the day. He didn't hesitate. He brought his own hands up, perfectly hooking his index fingers together and tapping them back with absolute certainty.
Friends.
Hinata beamed. But instead of dropping his hands, he eagerly changed the gesture, amplifying the motion and raising his eyebrows even higher in an exaggerated question.
Best friends?
Kageyama let out a soft huff of breath. He rolled his eyes dramatically at the ceiling, but he looked back down and offered a single, affirmative nod.
Hinata’s grin somehow grew even wider. His hands practically vibrated as he exaggerated the motion one step further, his brown eyes sparkling with absolute mischief.
Best friends forever?
Kageyama stopped signing. He let his hands drop to his lap, staring at the middle blocker with an incredibly flat, deadpan expression. The chaotic noise of the bus was still muted by the headphones, but he pitched his voice just loud enough for Hinata to hear.
"I'm ignoring you," Kageyama stated bluntly.
He turned his head back toward the window, smiling, but no headphones in the world could drown out Hinata's rolling laughter.