Chapter Text
It was an odd request, coming from someone of his caliber. It just didn't tally.
Somewhere in the darkest recesses of his mind, Teruki found himself jubilating. To see Kageyama Shigeo, the one who had stripped him of his status, torn down the ivory towers he had so meticulously built, brick by brick, deign to ask him. Oh, how the tables have turned. How absolutely delicious, to have someone so much more superior seek help.
Teru stopped himself right there. There is nothing pitiful about asking for help, he reminded himself. He didn't dare to think of what would have happen had Mob laughed at him back then. Guilt blossomed in his chest, gnashing him with its dull molars, but he dismissed it.
Your first thought is what you've been taught. Your second is what you really think.
For Teru, there was no room for self-doubt. He ran the towel through his damp hair one last time before tossing it into the laundry bin, and headed to the kitchen for a glass of warm milk.
There were two things Mob knew about the sky. There were two things Mob only wanted to know about the sky.
It stretched on infinitely. It was blue because more blue was scattered than red.
He collapsed and gathered himself, propping his feeble body up with his arms.
"Kageyama! You alright there?"
A stalwart young boy in matching trainers jogged over.
"I-I'm fine, President," Mob managed.
"You're getting better at this, Kageyama," Musashi clapped him on the back. "I see that you're able to support yourself even after you fall. Shall I bring you back to the equipment room?"
"I-I can m-move," he choked out in response. His face was a ghastly, alabaster white, but Musashi trusted that he knew himself best.
"Drink lots of water. You know where the iron tablets are," his voice rang at the back of Mob's head as he dragged his limp body up the stairs, back to the club room.
"Again?" Tome bit. She administered the iron tablets as she fanned him with the latest volume of Pure Pure Hearts. "Is it really worth it? You're inching closer to death with every return you make."
Mob downed the iron tablets, holding back a retch. It tasted too familiar. It tasted like blood. "I have to get better," he said, more to himself than her.
"You really think this is gonna work?" she snapped, prying the glass from his shivering hands. "I don't think you're enjoying this at all. Why not capitalise on something you're good at?"
He gave her a look, though she could parse what it meant.
"You could do so much more with your powers!" she was impassioned. "You could be communicating through your thoughts! You could seek telepaths! Start small, Mob-kun! Today, Seasoning City. Tomorrow, world!"
But she lost him. All he could chew on now, was, in her own words, capitalising on something he was good at.
Earlier that day, Mob had called on Teru. It was unusual for him to initiate something, which if he would ever admit it, flattered Teru.
They met outside the boutique where he had once picked him what he considered the apex of sartorial elegance. Someday, he mused, I would like for us to wear matching shirts. Like real friends.
Contrary to popular belief (popular being him, given his prominence in the dating circle), Mob was punctual. Still, he apologised for being late.
It took him a while, but after dragging his feet for twenty minutes, Mob finally broached the real reason he had called for him; he wanted Teru to teach him how to use his powers. Or specifically, how to fly.
Teru was incredulous at first. How could someone of his ability not know? He'd witnessed both the wonders and the destruction of his powers firsthand. Was he mocking him?
Kageyama-kun was no such person, he decided. He agreed, not thinking nor caring to ask why. He must have his reasons, he thought. He must have something amazing up his sleeves.
Imagine his disappointment when Teru finally met Mob in a deserted field, a short distance from the city, to find out that it was all for a girl.
"Ah, you see, I wanted to... impress someone," Mob did not look at him in the eye, but Teru didn't have to see his face to feel it. The embarrassment was almost palpable, and he wanted to grab it by the neck and throttle it for daring to bother Kageyama-kun like that.
He recovered from the shock soon enough, and released a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding.
"Okay, where do we begin?"
He decided to teach him the technicalities of it, so he sat him down on a clean patch of grass, and explained it to him.
When all he got was a blank look, he felt his face go hot.
Did he sound like an amateur? Who did he think he was, trying to school someone like Kageyama-kun.
He cleared his throat. "Do you gather, Kageyama-kun?"
Mob blinked. "Eh. No."
His frankness was endearing, Teru felt. Coupled with those vacant eyes, he looked like a small child he wanted to scoop up and protect. But Kageyama-kun was no child, not with such puissant energy.
He realised he was too tense, almost defensive.
"Okay, which part of it do you not get?"
"Everything."
Ah, so he was human after all. This time, however, Teru felt a strange warmth creeping up. He smiled. "You know what? Me neither. Let's forget the science behind it and get into the practice."
He lifted Mob with practiced ease. He'd rehearsed a thousand times at home, what he would say. How he would behave. He couldn't act like a fool.