Chapter Text
The gym was loud as always during an important match. Sneakers squeaked against the gym floor, the ball ricocheting off of Nishinoya's forearms, Daichi's voice cutting through everything like nothing else mattered. Karasuno was up by two points against Fukurodani, putting the score at 24-20 instantly putting Karasuno at set point. Tsukishima had stopped keeping track of the score somewhere around the third set; he was too focused on the game to actually care. All he wanted was to win. He stood at the net, adjusted his glasses and stood with his arms above his head with a flat expression. He was the sarcastic middle blocker who made everything look easy.
But somewhere in the distance he heard someone yelling at him. He looked back.
It was Yamaguchi.
As always, Tsukishima ignored him and put his focus back into the game. It was always Yamaguchi looking out for him, this time it was something about his shoelaces. Tsukishima was too focused to care about some stupid shoelaces.
The gym erupted around him. Hinata shouted from behind. Kageyama called the block. Tanaka's shoes squealed against the floor. Every voice became a reminder of what he was supposed to do.
He had to close the gap.
He had to read the spiker.
He had to jump before Bokuto's arm came forward.
Bokuto struck the ball but Tsukishima reacted too late, the ball grazed the side of his fingers and shot towards the back corner. Nishinoya dove, but it was too little and way too late. The ball hit the floor with a hard slap.
“Damn it!” Tanaka yelled.
The scoreboard changed, Fukurodani moved one point closer.
Tsukishima stared at his hands, shaking. If only he reacted faster, maybe Karasuno would have won the set.
“Tsukishima!” Kageyama snapped. “You were supposed to close!”
“I know.”
“Then move faster!”
Those words hit Tsukishima harder than they should have. He turned his head, but Kageyama was already facing the service line. There was no time to answer.
As the other team's ace began to set up for another spike, all of Tsuki’s attention was caught onto him, his weight shifted as he attempted to go for a block. He had to work harder, faster or he would disappoint the team once again.
Tsukishima had read everything perfectly, or so he thought.
He jumped for the block.
His timing was off by a hair. The ball struck his taped fingers, for half a second he thought he had it.
“One touch!” He yelled, informing his teammates.
He came down wrong, his ankle caught the floor at an awkward angle. His ankle twisted hard against the full force of his landing, followed by the rest of his body. The impact drove through his collarbone with a clean sickening crack. I'mmediate pain surged throughout his body. He stayed on the floor longer than he meant to; he didn't cry out he just lay there hiding the pain he was enduring.
The pain was excruciating. He couldn't handle it anymore but didn't want to worry his teammates so he laid still, with one hand pressed against the court.
“Tsukishima!”
Hinata was the first to reach him. Of course he was. He skidded onto his knees on the floor. His face appeared upside down, eyes wide with panic. Yamaguchi and the rest of the team followed, everyone's face written with worry.
“Don't move,” Daichi ordered.
“I’m fine,” Tsukishima said. “Just… give me a second.”
Those words came out of his mouth automatically.
In fact, he was not fine. His ankle throbbed in pain, his collarbone sat wrong under the silhouette of his shirt, a shape it wasn't supposed to make.
Hinata stared at him with concern. “You fell really hard!”
“Thank you for the expert analysis.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“Can you stand?” Sugawara asked, crouching beside him.
Tsukishima pushed himself up on his left elbow. The sudden movement sent a sharp pain across his chest. His vision blurred at the edges, but he blinked until the gym came back into focus. He saw the net, the blinding lights, Kageyama stood frozen near the service line, and Yamaguchi gripping the hem of his jersey.
He couldn't bear them looking at him like he was fragile.
“I said I'm fine.”
He tried to sit.
His ankle followed with a sickening stab, his shoulder had failed him, and he dropped back to the floor with a face full of pain.
No one missed it, they all saw his expression.
Daichi's composure stiffened. “Don't be stupid.”
Across the net, Fukurodani waited in uneasy silence unsure of what to do. Their players had stopped celebrating. Even Bokuto stood near the sidelines with his arms crossed, his face covered in concern.
The scoreboard glowed above the court. Only one point from the end of the set. One point away from winning. Tsukishima looked at it and felt the pain simmer. They needed him, Karasuno did.
Karasuno had fought through long rallies, bad serves, Kageyama's hot temper, Hinata's reckless jumps and every impossible serve Bokuto had thrown at them. But Tsukishima was special among them, he had read almost every spike perfectly and touched the ball enough to make the spiker hesitate.
But he had missed one block.
And that was all it took to break him.
“Ukai,” Daichi called. “We need a substitute.”
Tsukishima grabbed onto his wrist before he could rise. “No.”
Daichi looked down at him. “No?”
“I said I was fine. I can still play.”
“You can't stand.”
“I can stand perfectly well.”
He planted his left arm against the court and tried again. His right foot trembled as soon as he put his weight on it. His ankle felt loose and unreliable. His collarbone ached in pain when he forced himself up.
He made it halfway up before Kageyama stepped forward and caught his arm.
“Stop.”
Tsukishima looked at him. “Touching me won't improve your setting.”
“You’re injured.”
“Great, you noticed.”
The “king” certainly irritated him even more than the pain. Tsukishima pulled away but instantly regretted it. A hot surge of pain spread from his shoulder up into his neck. Even though the pain was unbearable he kept his face still.
Yamaguchi knelt beside him. His hands hovered, afraid to hurt him. “Tsukki…”
“Don't.”
“But-”
“I'm fine.”
This time the lie sounded convincing.
The whistle blew again. The referee gestured towards the bench where the trainers were. The match couldn't wait for his fragile ass.
Daichi crouched in front of him. “Listen to me. We’ll finish this without you. I’ll make sure we win.”
Tsukishima hated the calmness in his voice. He hated the way everyone had already accepted his absence, as the empty space he left behind could be easily replaced. He hated everything that was going on right now.
“I'm not leaving.” Tsukki demanded with a stern look.
“You are.”
"I can still block.”
“You can barely sit up.”
“That's not the important-”
“It's the most relevant thing right now.”
The trainers arrived with a support brace and a stretcher. Tsukishima's stomach twisted at the sight of it. It wasn't that the problem was being put in a brace or being benched. He couldn't handle the humiliation of being carried away in front of both teams.
The stretcher was different, it made the injury real.
“I can walk,” he said
“No,” the trainer replied
Tsukishima turned his head towards coach Ukai. “Coach.”
Ukai's mouth was flat. “Don't make this harder.”
“I said I'm fine!” Tsuki said, getting more irritated
Coach Ukai’s eyes dropped to Tsukishima's ankle, already swelling beneath his sock, then returned to his face. “You keep on saying that.”
“Because it's true.”
“Then prove it by letting us take care of it.”
That shouldn't feel like a challenge to him. Tsukishima gritted his teeth and allowed the trainer and Daichi to help him towards the bench.
The first step was unbearable. His ankle immediately gave out under his weight. Fortunately Daichi caught him in time, he had caught him around the ribs. Pain exploded through Tsukishima's shoulder. He made a small wince before he could stop it.
Yamaguchi saw.
Tsukishima saw the realization appear over his face.
He locked in immediately. “I tripped.”
“You’re limping…” Yamaguchi said
“I’m aware.”
“And your shoulder-”
“I said I'm fine.”
If he stopped saying it, someone might ask what was wrong. If they asked, he might answer honestly. But if he answered honestly, they might look at him as though he had become fragile.
He would rather be in pain. But he's already in pain.
At the bench, the trainer cut away his sock. Tsukishima watched the match go on without him, Karasuno had rotated without him. Hinata yelled for a quick set, Kageyama moved under the ball, Tanaka launched himself into a dive while Nishinoya yelled encouragement from behind him.
The noise rushed over him.
He belonged on the court, he knew where to block, when the hitter's shoulder would turn, and how much time Hinata needed to reach the ball. His body understood those things before they did.
So why wasn't he on the court? Why did he have this pathetic injury?
“Does this hurt?” the trainer asked, pressing carefully around his ankle.
Tsukishima looked away. “No.”
In fact, Tsukki was in a lot of pain but too embarrassed to admit it.
“Let me ask again, does this hurt?” the trainer asked impatiently.
“Yes, it hurts.”
“And your shoulder?”
“Yes.”
The trainer touched underneath his collarbone.
Tsukishima's breathing stopped.
“Tsukishima.” Sugawara said quietly from beside him.
“I'm fine.”
The trainer's expression changed. He told coach Ukai to call for medical transport and asked someone to keep him still.
Therefore the match continued without him.
Karasuno won the next rally. Hinata's shout burst through the gym. Tanaka punched the air, even Daichi allowed himself a small smile.
They were winning, that should have helped.
Instead, every point made the distance between him and the court feel wider.
Yamaguchi sat beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched. “You don't have to keep saying it.”
Tsukishima kept his eyes on the net. ‘Saying what?”
“That you’re fine.”
“I am.”
“You’re not.”
Those words were soft, yet they still landed harder than the fall.
Tsukishima adjusted his glasses with his left hand. His right arm remained still against his body.
"You're becoming annoyingly observant.”
Yamaguchi gave a weak laugh that disappeared almost immediately. “I'm just worried.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
For once, Tsukishima had no answer ready.
The final whistle came several minutes later. Karasuno had won the set, but the victory barely reached him. His teammates crowded around the court, shouting, clapping, grabbing at each other. Hinata looked towards the bench and raised up both fists.
Tsukishima raised one hand in response.
Karasuno had won.
But at what cost?
Tsukishima was supposed to block that shot, then he would have been on that court, celebrating together with them.
He put a fake smile on his face.
It was enough to fool Hinata.
But not Yamaguchi. Not coach Ukai.
The trainer secured his ankle and supported his shoulder while they moved him towards the gym doors. Each step sent pain through his leg. The hallway outside was cooler, white fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Behind him, the gym remained loud with celebration.
He glanced back once again.
His place at the net was already occupied by someone else.
“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi called from behind him. “I’ll come with you.”
“No.”
“But-”
“Stay with the team, you don't have to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
Yamaguchi stopped.
Tsukishima faced forward, not wanting the guilt on his face to be another thing Yamaguchi had to worry about.
At the entrance, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Akiteru’s name lit the screen. Tsukishima stared at the screen until it stopped ringing.
A moment later, it started ringing again.
He let it ring.
The doors opened, and the evening air touched his face. His ankle throbbed, his shoulder stung. I'm fine, he thought to himself.
Then he was carried away from the court, leaving the noise behind him, bringing the lie along.
The break was clean, the doctor said. Which Tsukishima thought was good news.
Physically, the doctors said it was a fractured collarbone and a bad ankle sprain. He would need a sling for six weeks and an ankle brace for two of those weeks, followed by physical therapy. Then if all went well he could return to training in about two to three months.
But mentally it would be even more challenging.
His shoulder would heal eventually. That part was simple.
What was harder was getting used to the way people looked at him now. His mother fussed over him, Akiteru watched him carefully. Even the doctors spoke to him differently, as if he might break if they weren't careful.
Tsukishima hated it.
He didn't want to be treated like he was fragile. He wanted to be the same person he’d been before. To be strong enough to play, strong enough to handle himself, strong enough that no one had to worry about him.
And for the first time he wasn't sure if he could convince himself of that either.
His mother sat with him in the little curtained room while the sling was being fitted. Akiteru came straight from work, still wearing his tie, and when he saw Tsukishima sitting there small and weak under the fluorescent light, something crossed his face that Tsukishima recognized instantly and hated. It wasn't exactly pity, but something close to it. It was more like the look when people realized how fragile you were.
“You scared everyone,” Akiteru said, quietly. As soon as their mother stepped out to deal with paperwork.
“I'm fine.” Tsukishima said. It started to come out of him automatically. Like a reflex.
Akiteru didn't argue. He just looked at him longer than it was comfortable, then reached over and carefully, so carefully, hugged him around the good shoulder.
Tsukishima let him. He didn't lean into it, but he let it happen.
The team visited him two days later, all of them crowding in his family's small living room in a way that should feel suffocating but instead, felt good. It was nice having people caring for him, after almost causing the whole team to lose.
Hinata had brought a card almost the size of a poster board that half of the class had signed, including several people Tsukishima was sure he had never spoken to.
Nishinoya was narrating the whole “rescue mission ” in surprisingly great detail. Yamaguchi sat close to him on the couch and didn't say much, but kept glancing over, checking, the way he always had since they were kids.
“You’ll be back before you know it.” Sugawara said warmly.
And everyone nodded like this was true. Tsukishima nodded too, he even managed something like a smirk.
Nobody in the room could see the part of him that had gone quiet the moment he’d hit the floor. He wasn't sure he could see it either.
Physically, the doctor said he’d be ready to return in two to three months
But he didn't know the other kind of ready, the kind that let a person jump for a block without flinching, the kind that trusted a landing before it happened. He didn't know yet that it might not fully come back at all, his trust in himself, that is. Not without something breaking open first.
For now he only knew how to say the same two words, the ones he said to everyone who asked.
“I'm fine.”
Physically, he passed every test they gave him. He had full range of motion in the shoulder. No pain with weight bearing. He did reaction drills, footwork drills, slowly rebuilding a body which knew how to properly behave.
On his first day back at practice coach Ukai patted him on his good shoulder.
“Good to have you back at your full potential.”
“Thank you, coach.”
Coach Ukai raised an eyebrow slightly.
“You sound pretty sincere today.”
Tsukishima then gave a faint smile.
“I am.”
“Then I guess you are really back.”
“Yeah, it feels good..”
For a moment, he almost believed himself when he said it. The truth was, he wasn't sure he wanted to be back on the court at all.
Coach Ukai stepped back and nodded.
“Just don't push yourself too hard. You're not invincible.”
“I know.”
He watched coach Ukai walk away, then quietly said something under his breath.
“...Thanks”
This time he really meant it.
But he stood there, thinking.
Thinking about the fall, the noise his collarbone made at the fall. Only if the timing was right. Only if he listened to Yamaguchi like a good friend and tied his shoelaces. Maybe if he had done those things none of this would be happening. The twisted ankle, broken collar bone, and most important of it all his mental health declining.
“Tsukishima!” coach Ukai called. “Are you joining us or just staring at the wall?”
“I'm coming.”
His voice sounded normal. But that was the point.
The tape around his collarbone was gone now. The brace on his ankle had been reduced to a thin support beneath his shoe. Two months of doctor visits, exercises, and being told to wait before returning to the court.
“Control drills!” Ukai said. “No full matches today. If something feels wrong, then you stop.”
He said that like it was directed at Tsukishima. I mean, it was for him.
Tsukishima adjusted his glasses. “I'm aware of how bodies work.”
Hinata appeared at his side, grinning so brightly. God he hated that. He hated how he genuinely seemed so happy. Unlike Tsukishima, who constantly hid his emotions.
“You’re really back!”
“Try not to sound so desperate.”
“I'm not desperate! Kageyama's sets are impossible without you!”
“Then perhaps you should improve.”
Hinata's wide grinned “That means you missed me.”
“That means I'm concerned for the structural integrity of the team.”
Yamaguchi laughed softly from behind them.
Daichi clapped once which got everyone's attention. “Warm ups. Then blocking drills.”
Just blocking drills, the thing he’d done ten thousand times before thinking about it. So why was he scared? He’d done it multiple times already so he should have had it perfected, right?
“Blocking.”
Those words sat heavily between Tsukishima and the court.
He moved with the others. The smell of the freshly varnished wood and rubber soles. Shoes squeaked, balls struck palms, voices overlapping. Everything was familiar to him.
He wanted one thing from the afternoon: to make it through practice without anyone noticing that his body no longer listened to him.
He wanted them to look at him and see the same sarcastic middle blocker who had left the court insisting he was “fine”. The same Tsukishima who could read a spiker almost perfectly, close a gap, and land without thinking about the fall.
Kageyama sent the first set towards the antenna. (go search it up if u dont know what im talking about)
Tsukishima tracked the ball. His feet moved late but he reached the spot. He planted his feet, bent his knees, and jumped.
For one second, he thought he had it.
Then his ankle tilted slightly in the air, not enough to hurt him, and barely enough to matter. But his thoughts were a mess.
Don't land wrong.
His hands crossed the net too late. The ball brushed his fingers and flew out.
“Too slow,” Kageyama said.
Tsukishima landed hard, but his ankle held.
“You were late.”
“I noticed.”
Hinata bounced in place. “Again! Again!”
He was like a ball of fucking sunshine and Tsukki hated it.
“Your enthusiasm is exhausting.”
The next ball came faster. Tsukishima watched Kageyama's shoulders, read the direction and moved. His body knew what to do. Left foot, right foot, plant, then jump.
He got there. He blocked it, he had it. That's what everybody else thought.
But Tsukishima knew the split second delay before his foot left the ground. Nobody but Tsukishima felt the flashback of what if i landed wrong again. He landed fine. Of course he landed fine, but still something in him flinched.
I never used to have to think about this. Not about worrying whether I'd land safely.
He thought, and hated himself a little more for thinking it, because thinking about it felt like admitting there was something wrong with him.
“Tsukishima?” Yamaguchi called.
“I'm fine.”
The answer came too quickly, it felt unnatural.
Yamaguchi's expression changed, only a bit. His eyebrows drew close and he tightened his hand around the ball he was holding.
Tsukishima turned away before he could see more.
With that, practice continued.
He made another block. Then another. None of them felt like a success. He had to force himself through every movement. Naming each step in his head.
Step. Plant. Jump. Hands over. Land.
During a water break Hinata dropped onto the floor next to him. Sweat darkened the collar of his shirt, and his breathing came in bursts.
“You’re jumping weird.”
Tsukishima drank from his bottle. The water was lukewarm.
“What an elegant observation.”
“No seriously. You keep on stopping before you jump.”
“I do not.”
“You do.” Hinata demonstrated, rising halfway and freezing with his knees bent. “Like that.”
Tsukishima looked at him. “You look ridiculous.”
“That's not the point.”
“Then make a better one.”
Hinata's smile faded. “Are you scared?”
The question caught Tsukki off guard and he almost laughed.
He screwed the cap onto his bottle. “Of you? Constantly.”
“Tsukishima.”
There it was again. His name without the irritation.
Tsukishima stood. “Coach is starting the next drill.”
“Answer my question.”
He ignored him and walked away before Hinata could follow.
The next drill involved movements across the net, sudden shifts, and awkward movements. Ukai had chosen it because Tsukishima needed to rebuild his timing. Tsukki understood that. He also understood that the drill had been designed to expose exactly what he was trying to hide.
Kageyama sent a set inside. Tsukishima moved left.
Then a second ball came immediately from the right.
He turned too sharply.
His ankle wobbled.
The floor struck beneath his shoe, his breathing stopped for a second. His shoulder moved instinctively protecting the place where his collarbone had once broken.
“Stop.” Coach Ukai said.
“I'm fine.”
“Didn't ask.”
Tsukishima bent over to retrieve the ball. His fingers closed around it tighter than normal.
Ukai stepped closer. “Your foot slipped.”
“It didn't."
“I watched it happen kid.”
“Then perhaps you should have looked away.”
A few meters behind him, Tanaka and Nishinoya went quiet. Even Kageyama stopped bouncing the ball.
Tsukishima could feel the attention gathering around him, he could feel the stares burning into his skin.
Ukai lowered his voice. “You’re cleared to practice. That doesn't mean you have to prove anything in the first hour.”
“I'm not proving anything.”
“Then what are you doing?”
He raised his voice without meaning to.
“Playing volleyball.”
Ukai studied his expression for a moment, then stepped back. “Take five minutes.”
“I don't need five minutes.”
“Take them anyway.”
Tsukishima wanted to argue. He wanted to make a statement to restore the old self. Instead he walked to the bench and sat down.
His ankle throbbed slightly. It wasn't injured or anything. It didn't even hurt. It was just there.
Across the court Hinata was already asking Kageyama for another set. Yamaguchi glanced towards Tsukishima, then quickly looked away when their eyes met. Daichi spoke with Ukai. Tanaka and Nishinoya were arguing over who had made the better save.
They had continued without him for two months.
He thought he was childish. He knew that. They had to continue without him. The team couldn't wait because one of their players landed badly. Still watching them move around so easily made him feel like a spare part waiting to be used.
He’d expected to feel relieved as soon as he returned to the court.
Instead he felt out of place.
“Tsukki…”
Yamaguchi stood in front of him, holding out a towel
Tsukishima took it. “You’re sweating all over the floor.”
“I'm not.”
“You are.”
Yamaguchi sat next to him. None of them spoke.
“Your first jump looked good.” Yamaguchi said.
“Has your standard declined?”
“The second one didn't."
Tsukishima folded the towel. “I'm fine.”
Yamaguchi's mouth tightened. “You always say that.”
“It's a very useful phrase.”
“It doesn't sound useful.”
Tsukishima looked towards the court. Hinata launched himself at the ball with all of his energy. Nishinoya was shouting something encouraging to everybody, then Kageyama shouted something less encouraging.
“I'm back.” Tsukishima said, "that's what matters.”
Yamaguchi watched him. “Does it?”
The question sat between them.
Tsukishima stood before Yamaguchi could demand an answer. “If you’re done with your interview, I'd like to go back to practice.”
He returned to the court.
This time when Ukai called the drill Tsukishima didnt wait for permission. He got into position at the net, and fixed his eyes at Kageyama.
The first set came in high.
His body hesitated.
He felt it happen, the tiny pause between his feet moving, the fear that lingered.
Then he moved away.
The jump was lower than before. His hands were late. The ball struck his fingertips and dropped back to the ground.
Hinata groaned. “That was almost!”
“Your definition of almost is generous.”
“Do it again!”
Kageyama tossed him another ball.
Tsukishima's ankle held. His collarbone held. His fear did not disappear.
He jumped again.
And again.
By the end of the drill his shirt clung to the back of his shirt, drenched in sweat. His legs trembled with exhaustion. He had made three blocks out of seven. Those numbers were humiliating.
Still he stayed.
Ukai blew the whistle. “Enough of today.”
Tsukishima bent over, hands on his knees.
Hinata ran towards him. “You're back!”
“I noticed.”
“No, I mean really back!”
Tsukishima straightened. Hinata's face was open, happy, and completely unaware of how much that expression hurt.
Yamaguchi smiled from behind him. Daichi nodded once. Even Kageyama gave Tsukishima a sharp, impatient look that somehow meant welcome.
Tsukishima adjusted his glasses.
“Don't make this sentimental. It's embarrassing.”
Hinata laughed. “You missed us!”
Those words landed harder than usual. He did miss them, he missed volleyball. The thrill of blocking. Yet he was unsure if he was ready yet.
He looked at the net. At the floor beneath it. At the place where he’d landed wrong and broken himself.
Two months had to be enough to make his body return to normal.
The thought he refused still lingered as he picked up his bag.
Eight more months might not be enough to make him trust himself.
The next ball struck the floor behind him. He flinched before he could stop himself. No one seemed to notice.
He kept walking anyway, back towards the court, to the place where every movement was carefully calculated.