Work Text:
Ryota didn't get along with his older sisters. It wasn't that they didn't have anything in common; they actually shared a lot of interests. His oldest sister, Yoko, was a model just like him, though she didn't have anywhere near the success her little brother did. His other sister, Misuzu, was a star athlete. She played volleyball at the national level and had started getting recruited by colleges all across Japan. He had no problem with his sisters' passions. He could even put up with their personalities for a while. It's just that they had this way of looking down on him no matter what he did. If he was better than them at anything (which he was, at everything), they would yell at him for showing off. If he held back, they'd accuse him of looking down on them. Everything was a competition with them and they couldn't accept that they weren't good enough to win. It was exhausting.
Of course, they didn't like him any better than he liked them. All three of them avoided each other as much as possible, which was fine for everyone. Everyone, that was, except Ryota's parents. They insisted that spending time together as a family was important and were constantly pushing the whole family to attend the siblings' photo shoots, games, and practices together. Yoko, Misuzu, and Ryota usually had busy enough schedules that they could make plausible excuses for not going, but every once in a while, a family outing slipped through their defenses.
Which is how Ryota ended up sitting between his sisters in the stands of a gymnasium in some random high school all the way out in Miyagi. Misuzu assured him that Aoba Johsai was home to two of the best volleyball teams in the country. He had no idea why she thought that would make up for the three hours it took them to get here, but she kept talking about it as if she thought that maybe if she went on for long enough her love of volleyball would rub off on him. According to her, Aoba Johsai's girls' team consistently went to national tournaments, and the boys' team was one of the best in the prefecture, right below one of the top-ranked national teams. In theory, it was very impressive. In practice, it was volleyball. He had no idea how his sister managed to conjure up so much enthusiasm for this stupid sport.
Ryota had played volleyball with Misuzu a few times when they were little kids. He never liked it much. He was good at it for his age, of course, but he couldn't keep up with his sisters who were older and stronger than him. He might have enjoyed it then if he'd been able to win, but he couldn't, so he didn't. He didn't pick it up again when he caught up to Misuzu in height and strength because, much like any other self-respecting boy, he grew out of any desire to play volleyball by the time he got out of elementary school. No matter how much he wanted to beat her, he wasn't going to play a sport for girls. Beating her in basketball was enough for him. He couldn't even imagine what kind of person would join a men's volleyball team. Did they not know, or were they okay with playing second fiddle to the girls? Either way, it was embarrassing.
Though he was trying to tune her out, he still managed to pick up some of what Misuzu was ranting about. According to her, he'd be getting the chance to see some male volleyball players any second now. The whole team came early, she said, to watch the boys practice. Apparently the captain of the boys' team was quite the looker, and one of the best volleyball players in the country. Misuzu's team had decided to come early to watch him and his team practice, nominally for training purposes, but the blush on her cheeks and slight breathy quality of her voice whenever she mentioned him make her real intentions obvious. That probably explained the crowds gathered around them, too. The audience was mostly girls, much to Ryota's annoyance. He had managed to avoid signing any autographs so far today, but he could see the girls sitting nearby sending furtive glances his way. He hoped that they were as enthusiastic about Aoba Johsai's volleyball team's captain as his sister was and would get too distracted to bother Ryota once he showed up. In the meantime, Ryota let his sister's words wash over him and counted the seconds until he could finally go home.
He didn't even get to a hundred before Misuzu squealed and latched onto his arm. He didn't need to look down at the court below to know that Aoba Johsai boys' team had just made their entrance. He looked over at Yoko hoping to share his moment of exasperation with his cooler-headed sister but she was reading a fashion magazine with an air of aloof disinterest he could only aspire to. Ryota took a closer look at the magazine to see if it was at least one of the issues he made an appearance in. He couldn't help but let out an irritated sigh when he discovered it wasn't. She had probably picked something he wasn't in on purpose just to annoy him.
His annoyance at Yoko for her magazine choices was swiftly overshadowed by the far more annoying sensation of Misuzu tugging on his arm for attention. “Look, Ryota! There he is!”
Ryota reluctantly turned his attention to the court below. He didn't have to follow his sister's starry-eyed gaze to figure out who the captain was: he had a certain presence unique to skilled athletes. He wasn't anywhere near the level of the Generation of Miracles, of course—Ryota highly doubted that any volleyball player had that kind of talent—but there was definitely something striking about him. Ryota could tell just from looking at him that he had put in countless hours of practice and had a passion for his sport. It was a shame that sport had to be volleyball. It was hard to tell exactly how tall he was from the stands, but he was taller than everyone else on his team. Maybe in another world he could have been an interesting basketball player. That, and... Ryota had to admit, his sister was right; the guy was really good-looking. He wasn't a model, or if he was he wasn't famous, but he definitely could have been with his height and his figure.
“Ryota, are you falling for him too?” Misuzu teased. “I hear he's single...”
Ryota shoved her away in mock offense. “What kind of guy do you think I am, nee-san? He just looks like a good player is all. I want to see what he does on the court.”
Misuzu shoved him back with double the force, grinning widely. “Finally getting the volleyball itch, huh? Trust me, this will be good; I've seen some recordings of his matches. A lot of his best plays don't look like much if you don't know volleyball, but...” She slung an arm around her brother's shoulders. “Even an idiot like you can understand a jump serve!”
Ryota's protests were lost among deafening cheers from the rest of the audience as the team captain stepped up to the edge of the court, volleyball in hand. What the gathered crowd lacked in size it made up for in enthusiasm. The high-pitched squealing of high school girls almost made Ryota feel at home, though he noted with some smugness that there weren't nearly as many people packing the stands as there were when he practiced at Kaijo.
God only knew why they were cheering anyway. The captain was hot but he wasn't that hot. He hadn't even done anything yet, either. He was just standing there holding the ball. It seemed like Ryota and Yoko, who was still flipping idly through her magazine as if she didn't notice the screaming crowd, were the only people not hypnotized by the Aoba Johsai's captain's charms. Even Misuzu was practically vibrating with excitement.
The crowd's cheers died down after a few seconds of silence on the court. As soon as the audience settled into a breathless anticipation, the captain flashed a smirk at the girls gathered in the stands.
“It sounds like everyone's ready for a show,” he said, his voice carrying clearly through the silent gymnasium. The crowd responded with another burst of cheering and applause. The captain turned to his teammates positioned throughout the court. “All right, boys; let's start things off with a bang!”
He tossed the ball forward into the air and started running after it. The scattered cheers from the crowd consolidated into a single rising voice as he leapt into the air, right arm extended. The sound of his hand hitting the ball echoed through the gymnasium like a thunderclap. The crowd burst into shrieking cheers. The ball shot through the air like a bullet and slammed into the ground on the opposite side of the court with enough force that Ryota swore he felt it shake the ground beneath him. Two of the players opposite the captain had run toward the serve's destination to receive it, but despite their best efforts they couldn't cover the distance. The captain wiped his brow and stretched lightly while the boy in charge of the other half of the team chewed out his teammates.
Although Ryota hated to admit it, the serve was impressive. He found himself unable to take his eyes off the captain for the duration of the game, just waiting for him to do something to follow it up. He had put almost as much force into his serve as Kuroko put into his new Ignite Passes. It would probably have been hard to deal with even for Ryota himself if he had had to catch it. It was a shame volleyball players were such nobodies; if the rest of the team had been at the captain's level, their practice match might have been interesting to watch. As it stood, the captain was the only standout player and even he only got less impressive as time went. After that first round, his opponents had relatively little trouble picking up his serves. Not only that, but the captain often overshot and sent the ball flying out of the court. As the game wore on, Ryota became certain that the first serve had been staged to look good for the visiting teams. He didn't follow it up with anything nearly as impressive afterward.
Misuzu gave Ryota (and Yoko, though her attention was directed firmly at anything but the volleyball court) a running commentary on the game. Ryota didn't pay much attention and wouldn't have retained much of it if he had tried, but he at least managed to catch the captain's name this time. Apparently Aoba Johsai's captain, Oikawa Tohru, was not only one of the best individual players in the country, he also had a particular skill for bringing out the best in his fellow teammates. Ryota couldn't say that he noticed the effect. He wouldn't have pegged any of the players on the court as being at their best from what he saw of their play, but he supposed he was expecting too much from them. Not everyone could be Kaijo or Seirin (or Rakuzan or Shutoku or Touou or Kirisaki Dai Ichi or...). Ryota had spent so much time among the best of the best that he had forgotten how easy it was to be the best of the average. He almost felt bad for Oikawa for having to put up with these players as his teammates. If what his sister was saying was true, he was a similar kind of player to Kuroko. In that case, maybe he wasn't so disappointing after all; with the right team, he would probably have been unstoppable.
The practice match came to a close quickly, but long after it had lost Ryota's attention, with Oikawa's teammates as the narrow victors. The boys started to clean up to make way for the girls once the game reached its end. Misuzu stood up to join her teammates while the Aoba Johsai girls' team prepared for their practice match. Ryota followed after her. “Can I come with you, nee-san? I want to meet Oikawa-san!”
Misuzu shot him a sly look. “I knew you'd like him.” She craned her neck to look past Ryota. “Is that cool with you, nee-san? You can come with us if you want.”
Yoko responded with a noncommittal hum. She made no attempt to stand up.
Misuzu scoffed. “Of course. Well, cheer me on at least.”
Yoko shooed them away with a wave of her hand. Ryota and Misuzu made their way down to the court where Misuzu's team was gathering to greet the Aoba Johsai team. Oikawa was still standing with his team on the other side of the room. Misuzu stopped as soon as they reached the bottom of the stands. “I don't know Oikawa-kun so I can't introduce you. I've gotta go meet up with everyone, but I'll let them know who you are so you don't get in trouble.”
Ryota reeled back in exaggerated faux-offense. “What? Nee-san, I can't just go talk to him! I don't know anything about volleyball! What would I say to him!?”
Misuzu shrugged. “That's on you, Ryo-chan. You're the one who wanted to say hi. You've got free rein of the court until everyone's ready. You can get his attention somehow.” She slapped him hard on the back and ran off to join her friends.
Ryota grumbled feebly at her retreating back. Sure, he was plenty charming enough to get Oikawa's attention on his own, but it was the principle of the thing. Ryota reached up and straightened his hair as best as he could without a mirror then smoothed out his rumpled jacket. He was going to charm the pants off Oikawa just to shove it in her face. It was time to pull out all the stops.
Ryota took one of the volleyballs lying on the floor. He walked to the edge of the court then took a few steps back. He hadn't been paying close attention to where Oikawa had been standing at the game's outset, but it was definitely a step or two away from the edge of the court. He twirled the ball in his hands a few times to get a feel for it. It was a little bit smaller than a basketball, and quite a bit lighter. Handling it felt different from what he was used to, but... it was not as though it would matter. He had already seen what he needed to do.
He tossed the ball up in the air, then started to run after it. There was no roaring crowd cheering for him, but he could feel the echoes of it in his memory. He leapt into the air after the ball with the sound of the audience's rising voices in his mind's eye. He brought his arm down on the ball with his full strength. The sound of the impact shocked the whole room into silence. Every pair of eyes in the room watched the ball shoot through the air and bounce off the floor with devastating force. It flew into the air with diminished speed then fell back to the ground and bounced a few more times before settling in place on the far end of the gym.
As Ryota expected, since he was taller and stronger than Oikawa, he was able to put a bit more force into the serve. It was definitely a strain, though; he wouldn't want to do that more than a couple of times in a row. He flexed his fingers and rubbed his thumb over his stinging palm. He wondered how Kuroko could do so many of his passes in one game. Didn't it start to hurt after a while? Ryota's wrist was already aching from just the one serve.
“Are you serious...?”
Ryota looked up to find the source of the voice. It seemed that he had managed to get the boys' team's attention after all. He couldn't hold back a slight smirk. Naturally.
“Hey, Oikawa. Is it just me, or was that serve just stronger than yours?” The voice was the same as the person who spoke before. It seemed to be coming from the boy who had led the team opposite Oikawa during the practice game. Misuzu had probably mentioned his name at some point, but Ryota couldn't recall it.
Oikawa chuckled lightly. “There's no way.” He walked over to Ryota with a friendly wave. “Hi there! I haven't seen you around before. What's your name?” He was grinning widely, but it was a fake smile and a brittle one at that. Ryota had been putting smiles like that on practically every day of his life for the past three years or so, and he could recognize one from a mile away. It was a model smile. The kind that practically forced people to like you without betraying any of your genuine emotions. It was the mark of a con man lying through his teeth. He wondered if Oikawa really thought no one would notice.
Well, two could play at that game.
Ryota returned Oikawa's grin with a grin of his own, brighter and more eager. “I'm Kise Ryota! I'm here with my big sister Misuzu. She's on the volleyball team back at her school in Tokyo. She's here to practice with the girls, but we came early to watch you play. You were amazing out there, Oikawa-san!”
As soon as Ryota introduced himself, he heard a voice from the crowd behind him declare “I knew it!” Before he had even finished his next sentence, the girls in the stands started to crowd around Ryota and Oikawa clamoring for signatures and photos.
Oikawa's face twisted, for just a moment, into a grimace dark with disgust before he settled back into his perfect model smile. He brushed off the compliment with strained affability. “Thanks, but I'm not really that amazing. Volleyball is all about teamwork. I can't take credit for everyone's hard work!”
The crowd of fans had formed a tight ring around the two of them, cutting them off from everyone else. One of Oikawa's teammates, the same one who had spoken before, tried to push his way through the ring and get to Oikawa, to no avail. He had a strangely alarmed look on his face as he insisted to the crowd that he needed to get past them. What did he think was going to happen? Surely Oikawa wasn't stupid enough to start anything here in the middle of the gym in plain view of dozens of people.
If Oikawa was already losing his cool enough to freak out his friend, whether that worry was warranted or not, then he was even more hotheaded than Kagami. Ryota felt a sense of twisted satisfaction nestle itself in his stomach. This was so easy. “But Oikawa-san, your jump serves were amazing! I thought volleyball was just a sport for girls, but you really proved me wrong out there!”
Oikawa's façade cracked again, for longer this time. He really looked like he was ready to murder someone. When he put his smile back on, it didn't quite fit right anymore. He was too tense, too on edge. It looked painfully amateurish. “I don't know how you thought it was a sport for girls when you play it. Is there something you're not telling me, Ryota-chan?”
Ah, nicknames. It might have been intimidating if Oikawa had pulled that trick before Ryota got the upper hand. As it was, it just looked pathetic. Ryota was sure it wasn't as pathetic as what was about to come next, though. A bit of his sadistic glee slipped through the shell of his carefully-practiced sunny smile for the barest fraction of a second. Oikawa's eyes widened in recognition, then he dropped all pretense. His friendly smile darkened into a spiteful glower. The hint hadn't been intentional, but in a way this was even better. Oikawa had to watch Ryota beat him at his own game twice over.
Ryota grinned again, his smile even wider and sunnier and sweeter than the last time. “What do you mean, Oikawa-san? I don't play volleyball... That was my first ever serve!”
Ryota barely had time to register Oikawa moving before he felt a fist hit his face. The force of the blow made his teeth cut right through the inside of his cheek. His mouth filled with blood. For a moment, Ryota was too stunned to react. He hadn't even considered the possibility of getting hit. He had expected yelling, maybe a shove or a threat, but not a punch at full force. Once his thoughts caught up to him, it was obvious what to do. He collapsed to the ground, clutching his cheek and willing himself to tears with all his might. The pain was making his eyes well up regardless, which made it that much easier to fake an emotional wound. “Oikawa-san,” he said, sending the pitch of his voice soaring up into the stratosphere for maximum dramatic effect, “why did you hit me!? Did I do something wrong!?”
Oikawa didn't respond. He advanced on Ryota, looking utterly out of his mind with rage. Ryota watched him with detached awe and horror. He honestly hadn't meant for things to escalate this far. He hadn't accounted for the possibility that Oikawa was so unstable that he would actually physically fight him, even after Ryota made a show of getting 'upset.' Ryota could hear Oikawa's friend yelling for him to stop from the back of the crowd, but it wasn't getting through to him.
The way Ryota had pictured this scenario playing out was that Oikawa would, upon seeing his exaggerated theatrics, either realize there was nothing to be angry about and go along with the joke, or fall for it, feel bad, and back off. He had figured the two of them could let it slide and maybe even laugh it off. His ploy obviously hadn't worked. It was time to come clean before the situation became genuinely dangerous. Ryota started to sit up. “Look, Oikawa-san, I didn't mean—”
Oikawa dropped to his knees next to Ryota and punched him again. The force sent Ryota flying backward. He ended up flat on his back, his head smacking hard into the floor on impact. Oikawa shifted on top of Ryota, pinning him down. Ryota managed to throw his arms up in front of his face in time to block Oikawa's next hit. Oikawa threw his fists at Ryota's arms again and again. The blows were bearable at first, but his forearms quickly started to bruise and the hits kept coming down on Ryota's tender flesh. Despite the pain, Ryota found himself unable to tear his eyes or his thoughts away from Oikawa's face, just barely visible past his own arms. He was definitely model material, if he could manage to keep himself together. There was something oddly hypnotizing about seeing a pretty face like that twisted in overwhelming, uncontrollable rage. There was something more hypnotizing about the fact that Ryota had done that and that it had been so easy. The pain of his bruised and bloodied arms paled in comparison to the intoxicating heady rush of power that came from knowing he could make this happen again whenever he wanted.
After probably not too long, though it was hard to keep track of time with the overwhelming flood of sensation Ryota was dealing with, a stern albeit flustered voice cut through the silence that had fallen over the crowd. “Oikawa, stop! What the hell do you think you're doing!?”
Ryota recognized the voice as Oikawa's friend, who had been struggling to push his way through the crowd. He sounded much closer than before. Oikawa's onslaught stopped abruptly. Ryota didn't move his arms away from his face just in case, but it seemed that was the end of it.
“Uh, you can put your arms down. I've got him. You're good,” the voice assured.
Ryota cautiously lowered his arms. Oikawa's friend had Oikawa's hands pinned firmly behind his back. Oikawa was glaring at his friend over his shoulder. “Iwa-chan, he started it!” he said in a childish whine that didn't match his deadly expression at all.
'Iwa-chan' rolled his eyes and tugged Oikawa back sharply. “He didn't do anything, dumbass. You just can't control yourself,” he said, sharp and exasperated.
Oikawa's expression shifted into a goofy grin, leaving no trace of his violent intent behind. “That's what I have you for, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa allowed himself to be hauled up to his feet, then pulled his arms free of his friend's restraining grip. He flexed his wrists with a wince, as if his friend's intervention were his biggest problem and not his own assault that left his knuckles bloody and bruised.
With Oikawa apparently no longer a threat, Ryota stood up and took stock of himself. His arms hurt a lot. His cheek hurt a little. A quick glance at his sleeves revealed that they were stained with blood, though it was thankfully not his own. He didn't have time to register much more than that before an adult, presumably a teacher someone had called to intervene, pushed through the crowd around them.
The next few minutes were a flurry of activity, with people running in from outside and the crowd clearing out around them. Ryota was quickly whisked away to the nurse's office, but not so quickly that he didn't see Oikawa getting chewed out by one of the adults. Ryota was grinning with smug satisfaction the whole way to the nurse's office, which only served to make everyone more concerned for his well-being.
The leading theory about the grin was that he was concussed and disoriented. He did turn out to have a mild concussion from the hits to the face and his subsequent hard landing on the floor, so Ryota let them believe what they wanted. According to the nurse, Ryota's injuries weren't too serious (though his jacket was a lost cause). They decided to keep him in the office anyway; whether it was for observation or to keep him away from Oikawa, he didn't know.
Ryota's parents and sisters crowded around him, teasing and fussing over him with equal intensity for a few minutes, but he shooed them away before long so Misuzu could get back to her game and Yoko and the parents could get back to watching. It took a little bit of extra effort to get his mom to leave, but pretending he was falling asleep did the trick handily. Once he was sure everyone was gone, save for the nurse who was busily typing away at her computer somewhere beyond the curtain next to the bed they had him in, he let the grin return to his face. That could have been the most amazing thing that ever happened to him.
He rolled over on his side and grabbed his phone from the table where he had left it after the nurse took his jacket to hurriedly compose a text.
To: Midorimacchi
Subject: KYAAA~~~~!~!~~~!!!!<3<3<3
midorimacchi i just got beat up and i think im in love
The reply was almost instantaneous.
From: Midorimacchi
Subject: You're Disgusting
Die.
Ryota forwarded it to Kasamatsu with added commentary, (SENPAI WHAT DOES IT MEAN WHEN YOU TELL SOMEONE YOURE IN LOVE AND THEY TELL YOU TO DIE!!!??!?!?!?) then decided to take the nurse's advice and get some sleep. He woke up to Misuzu and Yoko standing over him, looking more bored than concerned. Apparently, he had missed his sister's entire practice game while he was lying in the nurse's office and it had been so long that his parents were outside figuring out the train schedules for the return trip. He resolved to thank Oikawa for letting him get out of watching his sister the next time he saw him.
He hauled himself out of bed, hurling out hurried apologies to his sisters all the while. The three of them made their way out toward the exit of the building with Misuzu catching Ryota up on how the game went. To his satisfaction, Yoko looked as bored as he felt. He didn't bother even trying to listen to Misuzu. He let his thoughts wander instead. He vaguely wondered if he should take up volleyball. If he were to give it a shot, he would doubtless be good at it; probably the best in the country, based on what he had seen that day. Oikawa would hate that.
He was so caught up in his giddy fantasy of using Oikawa's jump serve (but stronger, more accurate, better) to become national champion that he didn't notice Misuzu and Yoko stopping in their tracks in front of him. He walked right into them and looked around baffled for a moment before the problem made itself obvious.
“Yoo-hoo, Ryota-chan!” Oikawa called airily from down the hallway. He jogged toward Ryota waving enthusiastically with bandaged knuckles, a bright grin on his face.
Misuzu and Yoko stepped protectively in front of Ryota, but he was so much taller than them that it didn't amount to the slightest deterrence. “Hi, Oikawa-san!” Ryota replied, just as brightly. The grin on his face was in no way falsified this time.
“Ryota!” Misuzu hissed at him, “What are you doing?”
Ryota brushed her off with a dismissive wave of his hand and gave Oikawa an expectant look. “So, do you want an autograph or something?” he asked, pulling a pen out of his pocket preemptively. He knew full well that Oikawa wanted no such thing, but he needed to know if even that would get a reaction.
It did. Oikawa's eyes went wide and his grin strained to its breaking point for a moment before he pulled himself together again. He hummed thoughtfully, putting a hand up to his chin and furrowing his brow in an exaggerated show of careful consideration. “I don't know if I need an autograph. I think I can do you one better. How about you give me your phone number?” he said, his tone as light and bubbly as ever.
Ryota's grin widened even further. Oikawa was nothing if not a glutton for punishment, it seemed. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and nodded enthusiastically. He held it out to Oikawa to take, then took Oikawa's phone and entered his own phone number. Once he was done, he held out the phone to Oikawa for him to take back. With the exchange was complete, Ryota looked at the shiny new phone number and said, conversationally, “You know, Oikawa-san, I've been thinking of taking up volleyball. You were really inspiring out there!”
Ryota heard a sharp crack of plastic breaking. A quick glance at Oikawa's hand confirmed that his grip was white-knuckled around his phone. Wouldn't it be funny if he had to buy a new one because of this? Oikawa stood frozen for a moment without responding, then said, “Aw, stop it! You're gonna embarrass me, Ryota-chan!” He let out a painfully fake little chuckle to punctuate the response. Ryota could barely stop himself from rolling his eyes.
Yoko elbowed Ryota in the ribs and started tugging him toward the doors. “Ryota, let's go,” she hissed in a hushed whisper. At a normal volume she said, “It was nice to meet you, Oikawa-kun. It seems like my little brother is a big fan. Don't be too mean to him, okay?”
Oikawa laughed and stepped aside to let everyone go. “I promise not to be a bully,” he assured Yoko. He waved goodbye to the whole group, smiling brightly at everyone before settling on Ryota. “It was nice to meet you three! I hope I'll see you again soon!”
The three of them returned the wave. Misuzu replied with a vague assurance that they would probably see each other at some point for another practice. Yoko didn't say anything. Ryota held up his phone and winked.
They reunited with their parents without too much trouble. Luckily, the train schedules worked out, and transferring their tickets to a later train was not too much trouble. They talked amongst themselves on the car ride to the station and during the long, boring process of returning the rental car. Misuzu had originally planned to go home with the rest of her team, but their parents insisted she stay behind while her brother recovered, which meant that Ryota had to lug around a bunch of her volleyball equipment that someone else definitely should have had to deal with. It was almost enough to make coming out here and meeting Oikawa not worth it.
When they were finally seated on the train, and the equipment was put away, and the five of them had long since run out of things to talk about, Ryota pulled his phone out of his pocket to text Oikawa. It started out innocuous; just a hello to confirm it was his real number. When he discovered it was, it quickly devolved into venomous taunting on both sides that had him entertained the whole train ride back to Tokyo. Oikawa turned out to be a lot more open with his hostility over text than in person. Ryota wondered whether it was because he hadn't figured out how to be fake via text (unlikely, because there was nothing easier in the world, but you never knew with people), or if he just didn't care to perform for Ryota since he had already been found out. Ryota wasn't sure which pathetic possibility he found funnier.
By the time he got home and got all of his sister's luggage put away, Ryota was exhausted. He went straight to bed, leaving Oikawa waiting for a reply. The thought of Oikawa feeling snubbed and slowly boiling over with rage was enough to send him to sleep with sweet dreams.
When he woke up the next day, in addition to a few impatient furious messages from Oikawa, he also had messages from his friends. It seemed Midorima had spread the word.
From: Kurokocchi
Subject: Your recent activities
Midorima-kun told me about your injury. Congratulations.
From: Akashicchi
Subject: Irresponsibility
I hope this recent dalliance will not affect your dedication to your team. Do not allow your heart to lead you astray.
From: Kagamicchi
Subject: VIOLENCE???
dude, I heard you got beat up?? what the hell did you do?????
From: Murasakibaracchi
Subject: whatever
did you cry
did someone take pictures
send them to me
From: Momocchi
Subject: ROMANCE???
Ki-chan, you have to give me all the details right now! Who was it? What happened? How hard did they hit you? Was it a girl or a boy? Are you dating now? Also, Dai-chan says 'fuck you' as usual! Say hi back!
From: Kasamatsu-senpai
Subject: what the hell?
kise, i have no idea why you're still friends with that guy. and who are you in love with? if you bring your girlfriend to practice, i'll kill you.
Kise sent off replies to everyone, then composed a new message.
To: Generation of Miracles (group)
Subject: a new frontier??
have you guys ever thought about playing volleyball?