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In the semi-final game of the Spring Prefecture Qualifiers, Karasuno is playing Aoba Johsai, and nothing about that is weird. Both teams have their normal lineups out on the court and they’re waiting, all of them, for the whistle that will signal the start of the second set, staring each other down in the interim. On the Aoba Johsai side, Iwaizumi is glaring, Kindaichi is pretending that he’s not glaring, and Oikawa is smiling that weasel smile of his, which means everything is in order. There’s also the kid that Hinata pointed out, the one with a freakishly strong spike and really stupid hair who looks like he spent his childhood killing neighborhood pets, and that’s new, but still not too out there. As for Karasuno, Tsukishima looks a bit bored, Nishinoya is doing some kind of hyper-elaborate secret good-luck handshake with Tanaka, Daichi is looking healthy despite his injury and he and Asahi have locked down their focus, and Hinata is practically bouncing off the walls, which means that everything is normal here, too. Nothing is amiss, nothing is over-abundant, and nothing is at all out of place anywhere on this court.
So why does Kageyama feel so off?
It’s nothing major — like, he doesn’t feel sick or anything, but it’s noticeable enough to confuse him. It almost feels like… dread, maybe? Or worry. Which honestly shouldn’t be that surprising, given— well, everything that happened at the end of middle school, and the fact that he’s looking most of those guys in the face right now. But he played them already at InterHigh, so it’s not like this is the first time, and Karasuno has gotten way better since then — he has no reason to feel this nervous. He didn’t even feel this nervous during the first set of this very game — what’s different now? He knows Hinata is looking at him, so he glances back, but the boy just gives him a determined nod.
The first serve is Tsukishima’s and it’s received easily enough — Kindaichi has always been good at that and he’s in the right spot — and as he watches the ball, Kageyama makes brief note of the kid with stupid hair, who is once again in his periphery. Who the hell is that guy? They’ve definitely never played him before — how long has he been on their team? They’re starting him in the back row, so he isn’t really involved in Seijoh’s first attack, but he looks pretty damn intense. They’ll have to keep an eye on him.
Daichi receives their spike cleanly to Kageyama, who sets the ball to Tanaka for a quick attack, letting the Aoba Johsai blockers get duped by Hinata’s decoy. The team cheers when the ball hits the floor and as Tanaka comes over to hi-five him, Kageyama pauses to speak. “Nice hit.”
Tanaka grins. “Nice set!”
“Thanks,” Kageyama says. “Hey, do we know that kid? Number sixteen with the dumb hair?”
Tanaka laughs — probably too much considering the fact that the sentence just wasn’t that funny, but that tends to be his thing. “Who, Tennis Ball over there? His name is Kyotani Kentaro — he was on Seijoh for some of last year, but he disappeared for a while this season. I guess he’s back. I don’t know him personally, but I heard he’s crazy.”
“What, is he a really good spiker? He looks kinda short to be a killer blocker.”
Tanaka gives him a flat look. “I feel like you’re forgetting that one of our best blockers is 5’3. I think Tennis Ball is a spiker, but that’s not what I mean by crazy .” His face turns a little disbelieving, which on Tanaka means he’s about to repeat some gossip he overheard in a tournament venue bathroom. “I heard he’s crazy off the court. Anger issues or something.”
Kageyama’s eyes narrow a fraction and he hums, and then his team is rotating and he’s moving to the back left position while Daichi prepares to serve. He makes a mental note to keep a close eye on Tennis Ball, as Tanaka apparently calls him; something about that kid bothers him, and it’s not because of any old anger issues. Hell, Kageyama has dealt with those himself, but this guy seems like… more. He seems like he’s got something more going on that Kageyama can’t see.
The whistle blows and Oikawa receives the ball like it’s nothing, which isn’t that surprising. Kageyama has felt the guy’s eyes on him from the second he walked onto this court. He’s been doing his best to just ignore it — talking to Tanaka helped, but now he’s kind of out of distractions, and shit, Oikawa is really staring him down now and Kageyama doesn’t know what to do but stare back. What the hell are you supposed to do in this situation? He’s trapped with a mentor-turned-enemy who wants nothing more than to see him fail and the only thing separating them is a net. He can’t even bring himself to be all that angry when the ball hits the floor on Karasuno’s side. He’s confined here; his back is against the wall. There’s nothing—
“Kageyama!” Hinata calls, and the setter looks over automatically because when Hinata talks on the court, he’s usually addressing Kageyama. It’s something he’s had to come to terms with, unfortunately, that he’s got this tiny idiot basically hermetically sealed to his side. Hinata isn’t smiling, his jaw set with determination, but his eyes flash with something joyful and dangerous. Hmm. Now that he thinks about it, if Kageyama had to pick two words to describe Hinata on a volleyball court, joyful and dangerous would just about do it. “What’s that ugly face for?” The orange dumbass shouts, because that’s his only voice volume during games. “Thinking about how I’m playing better than you?”
Kageyama damn near does a double-take. “Wh— you’re not playing better than me, asshole!” He hisses, taking a jab at the other boy’s head. Hinata squawks, dodges and throws a hand in return, and the two of them slap at each other for a few seconds until Daichi yells at them to stop. Kageyama can feel the confused stares of Seijoh on him, but he’s too busy glaring and grumbling. “I can beat you any day, dumbass,” he snipes, but then pauses when he realizes that Hinata’s face has split into a wild, hungry grin.
“Yeah?” The boy says, eyes alight with buzzing energy. “Then prove it.”
There’s a delay, just a fraction of an instant, where all Kageyama can do is stand there. Whatever Hinata is, teammate, partner, friend, anything — he’s something Kageyama has never seen before. Somehow, he never runs out of energy, never stops giving everything his all, never fails to surprise. And sometimes, when Kageyama is in the right place at the right time with this idiot, this person he’s been forced into a bond with on a fluke, he finds himself in this delay. It’s just a moment, less than a split second of pause, but it makes a familiar fire in his chest burn as bright as the sun. Every time.
He comes out of the delay and back onto the court and feels himself nod, his lips pressing into a sharp, quirked line. “You got it.”
Every time.
Hinata’s grin widens and he moves back to his position, and as Kageyama follows him there with his gaze, his eyes are once again drawn to Tennis Ball. Jesus, that kid looks intense. Actually, he looks… angry. Well, okay, that’s not a surprise; people get pissed off all the time during games, Kageyama included. But this is… again, Kageyama is struck with the feeling that it’s just more. It’s more than just some anger — he looks about ready to hurt somebody.
Kageyama turns his head towards Daichi without looking away from Tennis Ball. “Hey, Captain. Do you— um. Does that guy seem off to you?”
He expects to have to explain what he means, but Daichi nods before he can speak. “Absolutely.” Kageyama glances over and sees his captain’s eyes trained cautiously on Seijoh’s number 16. “He’s been looking at Hinata since we started, even when he was on the sidelines. It’s making me nervous.”
Kageyama’s eyes widen. “What?” His head whips back around and he takes a closer look, and sure enough, Tennis Ball is busy staring straight at their middle blocker. But it looks like Hinata is staring right back… maybe it’s just an element of rivalry?
The whistle blows and Kageyama signals for the original freak quick, and just like always, Hinata is there. He aims a pinpoint set straight for his partner’s hand and Hinata slams the ball down on the court before anyone in the gym can blink. Kageyama knows that Aoba Johsai has had to deal with this attack before, and he himself has executed it a thousand times, but there’s still nothing more satisfying than seeing the raw shock on their opponent’s faces when a ball from this specific play hits the ground. Even a service ace, the most technically perfect play in the sport of volleyball, isn’t this gratifying.
“There’s our dynamic duo!” Nishinoya yells as the rest of Karasuno cheers, and Hinata laughs and flies at him with a hi-ten. Daichi pats Kageyama on the back and Asahi ruffles his hair, which isn’t something that happens often to a guy as tall as him, but for all that he swats at the ace’s hand, he doesn’t actually mind.
As they rotate again, Hinata flashes him a smile and Kageyama hums in response. “Set?” He asks.
“It was perfect,” Hinata replies, excitement filling his eyes. “But we can go higher.”
Kageyama rolls his eyes. “It’s always higher with you, huh?”
Hinata just laughs and moves to his next position. The idiot doesn’t even—
That guy is staring again. Why are— why do his eyes look like that? He looks like a fucking serial killer. Kageyama watches, one eyebrow raised, as Tennis Ball — shit, what’s his actual name? Kyogre? No, that’s a Pokémon. Uhh… Kyotani? That sounds right — seems to growl like a fucking Rottweiler. Maybe he’s secretly a furry.
Okay, damn, the fact that he just had that thought means he’s been spending way too much time around Hinata, Tanaka, Noya, and their collective sense of humor.
Throughout the set, Karasuno holds their own against Seijoh, and as they keep scoring points, Kageyama can feel his team’s energy building. He’s always admired how much these guys truly just love to play volleyball — the fact that all the running and activity only pumps them up more is proof of that. Karasuno arrives at match point with a one-point lead, and Kageyama signals for a quick attack using the set that stops. He sees Hinata nod and prepares himself for the attack, and right now he knows that for this one, everything will fall into place. He knows because he trusts his team and the ball and himself, and when Daichi receives the serve and puts it in the air exactly where Kageyama wants it, he trusts that his partner is already in the air, trusts in the boy’s speed and reflexes that will put him just a few inches ahead of that block, trusts in Hinata’s sheer belief in Kageyama and his skills. He trusts everyone on this side of the net more than he ever trusted the people opposite him right now, because he knows with absolute certainty that even if the attack doesn’t work and the game is lost, they will still be there for the next set — they will still be beside him tomorrow.
He trusts in his team, and he sets the ball.
It darts towards Hinata, and at the very peak of its arc, the ball stops, floating in place like magic. It’s perfect — it’s perfect. It hangs in the air like some kind of apparition, and the court is charged with electricity, and everything stays perfectly still just long enough for Kageyama to watch Hinata’s eyes flicker to the left — a wide open spot in the corner of the court. His hand slices through the tension in the air and makes contact, and the ball goes rocketing towards the empty space.
And Kageyama hears it hit the floor, but he doesn’t see it, because in that moment something else happens, too. The wall— the double block, it moves, it— something breaks free from it. Something breaks free and shoots towards where Hinata is still flying.
A foot.
A foot?
Kageyama sees it in bullet time. Tennis Ball is on the left side of the block, and his eyes lock onto the spike as it bypasses his hand, and something behind them changes. That more that Kageyama felt earlier — it multiplies tenfold, and those furious yellow eyes dart back to Hinata, hanging defenseless in the air. In one split second, his foot separates from the wall, jolting forward with the force of a professional punter.
It sneaks under the net in time to slam into Hinata’s abdomen. It lands in the center just under his ribs — a clean shot to the solar plexus.
Kageyama’s eyes widen at the same time that his partner’s do, and whether it’s because of their connection or proximity or random chance, their gazes meet. It’s just for a moment, nothing more — exactly as long as that delay Kageyama sometimes finds himself in, only this time instead of determination or joy or anger, he sees shock and fear in Hinata’s eyes.
He comes out of the delay.
Kageyama is moving before he realizes that time is back to its normal speed. The other boy is already on the floor by the time he gets there, but the rest of the team is frozen around him, staring at that last ball — it occurs to him that they might not have seen what just happened. They haven’t noticed that Hinata isn’t getting up. They haven’t— they didn’t see it . They didn’t—
“Hinata!” Kageyama shouts as he drops to his knees beside his partner, and the word comes out harsh and lined with anger because that’s all his body knows how to do right now. Apparently it’s enough to startle his teammates, because they seem to gasp almost in unison.
Hinata is flat on his back, unmoving, but it doesn’t look like he hit his head on the way down — what did that kick do? His face is reddening and his fingers are scrabbling at his chest and his mouth is gaping open and closed and—
And his eyes are open.
Shit.
Kageyama freezes. The shining eyes that he’s come to be so familiar with are peeled wide, pupils shrinking and dilating rapid-fire over and over again. They’re staring at Kageyama, brown meeting blue and clashing, filled with such deep fear that Kageyama feels like he might be sick. Hinata’s eyes are begging him to do something but he has no idea what he needs to do or what is even going on right now, and there are whispers building up behind him and he knows that someone is standing over his shoulder, and he’s struck with a sudden urge to turn around and throw a punch at whoever it is for daring to come near Hinata.
“Hinata…?” Says a small voice, and Kageyama’s brain absently pins it as belonging to Noya, even though he’s never heard their libero sound anything close to quiet.
Hinata’s face grows redder, begins taking on a blue tinge even as he keeps his eyes locked on his partner, and all at once, Kageyama realizes exactly what’s happening.
A square hit to the solar plexus — the diaphragm would contract beyond the victim’s control. Ennoshita taught him that for anatomy class. “He can’t breathe,” Kageyama mumbles, and the words are heavy in his mouth even before they really solidify in his brain. He shakes his head and blinks, and Hinata blinks back, and all of a sudden, everything snaps into overdrive.
“He can’t breathe,” he repeats, louder this time, and a million things start moving and making noise behind him and around him, but he doesn’t have time to care. He shoves his shaking hands down on Hinata’s shoulders, pinning him in place with his weight. “Hinata,” Kageyama snaps, fighting to keep his voice as even as possible. “You need to relax. You got hit in the chest and one of your muscles is seizing up — you need to relax so you can breathe.”
Hinata just stares at him. His lips are starting to turn blue, and Kageyama can’t stop the curse that escapes from his mouth when he sees those wide, scared eyes start to roll in the boy’s head. “Hey. Hey! Stay focused!” He fists his hands in Hinata’s shirt and shakes him. He knows he’s not supposed to do that, but at this point he’s running on instinct fueled by fear alone. Someone says something about going to get a physician and another few figures fall into Kageyama’s periphery, but he continues to ignore them. Hinata refocuses on him, and for the first time, Kageyama notices the trust that lies beneath the fear in his eyes. Hinata is relying on him — he’s trusting Kageyama to make this better.
Hinata has never broken Kageyama’s trust. Even if the attack doesn’t always work, even if they’re at each other’s throats, even when they’re not on the court, Hinata has never walked away. Even when everyone else left him, Hinata was the first to stay, the first to prove himself worthy of Kageyama’s trust.
Hinata is trusting him now. Kageyama will not let him down.
“Hey,” he says again, though his voice still comes out sharp at the edges. He’s never been good with words, but he tries to shove some kind of reassurance into the other boy’s brain through his eyes alone. “Keep your eyes on me. Got it? Just stay here. Stay here.” He makes a snap decision and picks up one of Hinata’s twitching hands, pressing the palm of it flat to his own chest and taking deep, exaggerated breaths in. His other hand roughly shoves bright orange hair out of Hinata’s face, trying to get him to focus. There are tears leaking out of the corners of the boy’s eyes. “You need to relax, dumbass,” Kageyama says, trying to see if some kind of familiarity helps. “I need you to relax.”
He becomes aware of more people around him, and suddenly someone pierces the bubble he’s built here — Sugawara, he realizes — and gets a pair of knees beneath Hinata’s upper body, propping him up a bit. Kageyama doesn’t take his eyes off his partner, but he can feel Suga looking at him. “Keep talking to him,” he whispers sharply.
Kageyama nods and squeezes Hinata’s wrist where he’s still holding his hand against his chest. The boy’s eyes are rolling again, and his lips are bloodless and blue at this point — and Kageyama hates it. It’s so cold and quiet and… not Hinata. What can he do to get his Hinata back? What’s something that Hinata would have to listen to? What—
Oh.
Well, uh. That’s kinda stupid, but… but it might work.
Kageyama sucks in a breath and jostles his partner again. “Hey. Look at me. You said you’re playing better than me, right?” He sets his jaw, glaring as hard as he can. “Well, how are you gonna beat me if you’re sitting on the floor?”
He thinks he sees Hinata’s eyes widen and focus, if only just a little, but Kageyama will take what he can get. He’s… scared. He’s scared, but he’s also angry, because this isn’t Hinata that he’s looking at right now — it’s some silent, terrified shell of the loudest and bravest person he knows and he wants to know where the hell his friend is. Kageyama grits his teeth and squeezes his partner’s wrist tighter, once again putting his trust in the boy in front of him; he trusts that Hinata will go after the challenge with as much enthusiasm as always. He has to.
Hinata’s fluttering eyes, shining with unshed tears, lock onto Kageyama’s, and for just a moment, Kageyama sees a flash of that same determination from earlier. The setter bares his teeth. “If you wanna stay on the court the longest, you have to relax. Breathe, dumbass.” He pauses and swallows hard. “Please.”
For another long moment, Hinata’s blue face and haunted eyes stare at him, and there’s that raw trust again, rushing to the surface and breaking through the fear, and suddenly the boy squeezes his eyes shut and his entire body goes horribly, horribly limp.
Kageyama inhales sharply at the same moment that Suga yelps Hinata’s name, and suddenly he’s in a delay again, the silent pause stretching out in his brain to unimaginable lengths. For the first time, the thought of losing Hinata slashes through his mind. What would… that had never even occurred to him. Why would it? Hinata has proven that he won’t leave like the others did. But… Kageyama has never considered that it might not be up to them. What would he even do if that happened? He’s always had teammates, but he’s never had… well, friends. Hinata is…
Dammit, he can’t let himself spiral right now — not when Hinata needs him.
He forcibly pulls himself out of the delay.
Hinata’s lax body suddenly jerks under his hands, and his back nearly arches off the floor with the force of the breath he takes in. He lets it out quickly and drags in another, and it stutters and shakes, but it passes his lips and fills his lungs and the awful blue tinge fades from his face, and Kageyama feels like he just took his first breath, too. Christ.
Hinata keeps breathing. He peels his eyes back open and they fly to Kageyama’s like they’re fucking magnetized together. The tiny hand that he’s had pressed against his chest curls its fingers in the front of his shirt, and all at once Hinata’s shoulders droop and he heaves out an exhale that sounds close to normal and he tips his head back against Suga’s chest. Kageyama has never seen him look so exhausted — not even after the Nekoma training camp.
Kageyama raises an eyebrow. “Hinata?”
His partner swallows and uncurls his index finger to poke the setter in the chest, still breathing hard. “Screw… you,” he huffs, “’M gonna win.”
The court freezes, processes, and then erupts into cacophony. The relief that washes over Kageyama is instantaneous, and he can tell from the sigh that Suga heaves and the various shouts around them that it has a similar effect on the rest of the team. Kageyama grumbles and flicks Hinata’s forehead, earning an indignant grimace from the other boy, and then he lets his head fall forwards to knock gently against Hinata’s, bright orange hair filling his vision. “I hate you,” he says, but there’s no bite to the words — the relief is too overwhelming.
Hinata presses back, and the meager but present amount of strength and control behind the motion is a bigger comfort than it probably should be. “Mhm,” the boy hums. Hinata throws him a knowing look. Damn him. “Sorry.”
“You should be,” Kageyama replies, followed by a huff. He pulls his head back but decides not to mention that he’s still gripping Hinata’s wrist and that the boy’s hand is still curled in his shirt. “Not your fault.”
A hand lands on top of Hinata’s head and for the first time since he hit the floor, Kageyama looks up and takes in his surroundings. The hand belongs to Sugawara, but the rest of the team is actually closer than he thought they were — Noya is kneeling about two feet away with Tanaka at his back and Ukai looking rattled beside them, and the rest of the team, including those that had been on the bench, are standing a few more feet beyond, huddled in a group between the net and Hinata. Kageyama realizes they’re trying to protect him from prying eyes, which is… pretty thoughtful of them, actually, especially considering Tsukishima is the one who’s doing most of the glaring at unwanted attention. Kiyoko and Takeda are nowhere to be found, so Kageyama assumes that they’re the ones who went off looking for a physician.
Sugawara hums and ruffles the bright orange hair. “Jeez, Hinata,” He says, an edge of worry clinging to his voice, but he still manages to huff and roll his eyes. “I can’t believe that’s what got through to you. You two are unbelievable. Are you okay?”
“I’m… getting there. Thanks, Suga,” Hinata says on an exhale. He’s still breathing harshly and a bit spastically, but it looks like he’s gaining control by the second.
“What the hell even happened?” Tanaka mumbles from his position behind Noya, and the words knock loose something that Kageyama had pushed to the back of his mind until now.
His head snaps up to stare at Tanaka, and Kageyama has no idea what his face looks like right now, but it must be really bad because Tanaka actually flinches. “Tennis Ball,” Kageyama snarls.
“What?” Suga says, but Tanaka’s face is starting to change, starting to connect the dots before the whole story is even out.
Kageyama grits his teeth and clenches his jaw to keep himself from shouting. “Tennis Ball — Mad Dog. He kicked him. Mad Dog kicked Hinata in the chest as hard as he could. I saw it,” he manages to grind out.
Sugawara sucks in a breath and Noya visibly tenses, but Tanaka is already moving, stalking towards Seijoh where they’re standing in a loose, wide-eyed huddle on their side of the court. He almost makes it under the net, but Daichi is just fast enough to snag the back of his shirt collar. For once, Tanaka doesn’t fight it; instead, he stands up straight and turns around to face Karasuno. The team takes one look at him and falls dead silent.
Kageyama has never seen such raw darkness before.
“Tanaka…?” Ennoshita mutters.
Tanaka shakes his head, apparently unable or unwilling to speak, but Nishinoya moves to stand beside him, his back to the team as he stares down Aoba Johsai. “Number sixteen kicked him. On purpose.”
Karasuno recoils almost as one. Some of the Seijoh players even seem to do the same. Kageyama is kind of distracted right now, though, because while Nishinoya and Tanaka have been doing whatever they’re doing, Hinata has started working on standing up. Suga tries to tell him not to, but then Hinata looks at him exactly once and both Kageyama and his upperclassman heave exasperated sighs. When Hinata gets that look about him, it’s impossible to stop him. Kageyama figures that if he’s gonna get up regardless of what they do, it’s better that they help him. Kageyama rolls his eyes and gets himself into a crouch, ignoring the pins and needles sensation from sitting on his knees for so long. He lets Suga do the first part of getting Hinata to sit up all the way, and then reaches out his hand expectantly.
Hinata blinks at him. “’S that for?”
“Put your arm over my shoulder so you don’t fall and die.” Kageyama prepares his strongest glare, storing it as ammo just behind his eyes. Maybe he won’t need to use it this ti—
“I can stand!”
Aaaaand the glare is a go.
Hinata winces. “Alright, alright, fine. Jeez.”
Kageyama huffs and drags the other boy’s arm across his shoulders, standing up gingerly with both eyes focused keenly on his partner. The boy bites back a groan, clearly spinning through the mother of all head rushes, but when it settles he still looks like he’s breathing okay, even though he’s definitely leaning pretty heavily on Kageyama. Their height difference makes this position a bit awkward, but Kageyama doesn’t really mind being a little hunched over right now in the grand scheme of things. Especially because some shit looks like it’s going down over by the net and he kind of needs to pay attention to that.
Ukai has gone over to talk to the refs and the Seijoh coach, and he looks absolutely fucking furious, but his anger still doesn’t hold a candle to the looks on Karasuno’s faces. Even Tsukishima, who claims not to care about Hinata in the least, looks murderous, and for the first time in recorded history, Asahi’s face is filled with rage. It reminds Kageyama of exactly what just happened, and he has to say, the heat that’s suddenly roiling in his chest isn’t exactly a happy feeling. As he, Hinata and Suga shuffle closer and come around the edge of the Karasuno blockade, he notices that Oikawa, Iwaizumi and Kindaichi are close to the net while Yahaba, Kunimi and Watari are farther back, corralling Tennis Ball and keeping him away. Barring Yahaba, who had come off the bench to help with Tennis Ball, the non-starting Seijoh players are still standing in their box, talking amongst themselves like nothing even happened.
When the three of them emerge from the group of Karasuno players, Oikawa’s eyes drift lazily to Hinata, and that insincere smile spreads across his face. “Oh, there’s Chibi-chan. See? He’s fine. No harm done.”
Kageyama’s blood boils.
“Are you fucking serious?” Suga says coldly, and Kageyama and Hinata startle, along with almost the entire team; they’ve never heard him actually swear before. Somehow that’s what really hammers home the severity of this for Kageyama, and he only feels himself growing angrier. “One of your players physically attacked an opponent and you’re just okay with that?”
“Oh, come on,” Oikawa drawls, waving a hand dismissively, “Mad Dog didn’t attack him. Accidents happen. We can’t always—”
Kageyama hears himself speak without really meaning to. “Shut. Up.” He stares at his former mentor through the net, his pupils narrowed to pinpricks and teeth bared as he looks up past his bangs. Oikawa pauses when their eyes meet, something flashing across his face, and it’s enough of an opening for Kageyama to keep talking. “Shut up. Just shut the fuck up and save it for someone who’s dumb enough to believe you. You know exactly what just happened and you don’t give a shit because you’d rather have someone get hurt than admit you were in the wrong.”
Oikawa blinks, but recovers quickly, although Iwa and Kindaichi are staring at Kageyama with wide eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Besides, it’s not like you can prove that he did anything on purpose. You’re the only one who’s saying they saw something.”
“I dunno, I sure felt like I saw something,” comes a voice from Kageyama’s side, and all eyes snap to Hinata. He’s blinking owlishly instead of glaring, which, in Kageyama’s experience, means he’s definitely about to absolutely destroy Oikawa’s dumb ass. He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it up, and around him, Karasuno tenses.
In the center of his abdomen, right beneath the peak of his ribs, a dark bruise is starting to bloom. It’s shaped like the toe of a shoe — the treads even left a visible pattern. Tanaka curses harshly and most of them turn away, unable to look, but Tadashi is stuck staring at the mark. He looks like he’s about to cry. Tsukishima grabs his shoulder and pulls his best friend to the other side of his body, putting himself firmly between him and Hinata and blocking the boy’s view. “You don’t have to look,” he says softly, his own eyes trained firmly on Tennis Ball. There’s real hatred there — Kageyama didn’t know the kid could get so emotional.
Kageyama is a bit emotional himself, though. That emotion is anger. “Jesus fucking Christ, dumbass, why didn’t you say anything about that?”
Hinata glares at him. “Hey! How the hell was I supposed to know it was there?”
“What the hell? Why would you lift up your shirt if you didn’t know it was there?!”
“I thought it was gonna be, like, a big red mark or something! I didn’t think it would bruise that quickly!” Kageyama sees the instant that Hinata’s attention moves to something else because his eyes widen and sparkle and he looks like a fucking moron. “That’s so cool, though, look, it left a little pattern…”
Kageyama kind of wants to shoot himself in the face. “That’s not cool, idiot, that’s bad! He kicked you in the chest! Remember that? Like two seconds ago? It was bad! Did he kick your brain out, too?!”
“Can’t kick out what he never had,” Tsukishima mumbles, at the same time as Daichi huffs, “What about yours?” and Hinata and Kageyama’s heads whip around in unison.
“What did you say!” They shout, and Daichi shoves his face into his hands with a groan. Upon closer inspection, though, it looks like Karasuno has actually… relaxed a bit. Maybe the familiarity of their incessant fighting made them feel like everything is okay. Huh.
On the other side of the net, though, Oikawa is still staring at the spot on Hinata’s chest where the bruise is now once again covered by his shirt. Iwa is busy flicking his eyes between all of them, but Kindaichi is staring at Kageyama and Kageyama alone. The setter scowls and is about to say something when Ukai reappears in front of Karasuno and all the boys snap to attention. Their coach’s eyes are bright with fury. “Listen up, boys. The official didn’t see what happened—” a flurry of angry protests arise until Ukai holds up a hand and raises his voice— “but! there was a camera filming from the scoring table. I’m going to go over the footage with the official and Coach Irihata in a minute. If the camera caught it, we’ll be able to make sure it never happens again,” he says darkly before sobering a bit. “But first I have two things to address. One,” he swivels towards Hinata, who is still somewhat tucked into Kageyama’s side. His face softens the tiniest fraction. “How’s our Little Red doing?”
Hinata jolts and tries to stand up straighter when he realizes he’s being spoken to, but despite his objectively stupid determination, he’s off-balance enough to tip slightly further into Kageyama. “I-I’m good, sir!” He tries, but he’s overcompensating, making his voice pointedly loud to the point that it catches on the last word and he begins coughing. Kageyama rolls his eyes and stands a bit taller to try and stretch Hinata’s diaphragm — also something he learned was possible via Ennoshita. It seems to help, because the coughing dies down after a moment, leaving Hinata red-faced, and not just because of an inability to breathe. “Um. Maybe I’m not at my best,” he amends.
Several of their teammates scoff at the same time. “What gave you that idea?” Sugawara huffs as he offers comforting shoulder pats to Asahi, who had immediately started freaking out the moment Hinata began coughing.
Ukai nods. “Well, we’ll have you get checked out by a physician just to be safe. Kageyama, are you trying to go wi—”
“Yes.”
Ukai raises an eyebrow, but smiles. “Alright. We’ll get that sorted in a minute — health is always priority number one.”
There’s a brief pause where nobody says anything, so Daichi asks what they’re all thinking. “Uh, Coach? What was the second thing you wanted to talk about?”
“Oh. Right.” Ukai’s face grows a little smug. “I just wanted to say congratulations.”
The boys blink. “Uh. For what?” Noya says.
Ukai folds his arms. His smile is definitely shit-eating now. “For making it to the finals.”
There’s a moment where everyone pauses and tries to process what the hell he just said. Unsurprisingly, Daichi is the first to make the connection. “Oh.” His eyes widen and his mouth drops open. “Oh! Guys, wait, wait, Hinata, your last spike— it hit the ground. We took that point!”
The processing resumes at a higher velocity, and Hinata stares at his captain. “It… did? But that was…”
“Match point,” Kageyama breathes. The team blinks at each other for another long moment.
All of a sudden, everything comes crashing down.
Kageyama has no idea who sends up the first cheer, but the noise that the team starts making is absolutely deafening. Everyone crowds around Hinata and Kageyama and swarms them, and then Nishinoya comes flying out of nowhere and knocks all twelve of them over, and they end up piled on the floor of the court in a huge, elated heap. Kageyama checks to make sure that Hinata can still breathe and finds the boy laughing, albeit stutteringly, sporting a grin so wide it looks like his jaw might break. His partner meets his gaze and his eyes flash joyously, and Kageyama can’t help but smile back, and Jesus, what an emotional rollercoaster today has been. If Kageyama is this tired himself, he can’t imagine how exhausted Hinata must be.
Ukai smiles at the crows all huddled together on the floor, turning a knowing glance to Takeda, who has long since returned from trying to find help. Because of a text Ukai sent him, he and Kiyoko ended up only bringing back directions to get to the physician as opposed to bringing the physician herself, but it feels worth it to not have to interrupt the boys with a third party right now, in a moment when they’re so connected to each other.
A win feels damn good right about now.
As their cheers die down into laughter and teasing, Kageyama looks up long enough to see Oikawa on the other side of the net, standing next to Iwaizumi and speaking to him quietly. Both of them keep glancing back at Tennis Ball in his little corral— shit, Kageyama can’t even look at the guy without his blood boiling. That fucker went out of his way to hurt someone who was doing nothing wrong, and that would be bad enough, but— but it’s Hinata . Tiny little ball-of-sunshine Hinata who is so enthusiastic about life and so determined to get stronger and so in love with simply playing volleyball that he treats every step on the court like a gift. Mad Dog hurt him of all people, on purpose, just because he was pissed off.
Sometimes Kageyama hates humanity.
But then again, humanity includes Hinata, who’s looking at him now, his wide eyes full of excitement and something else that grounds Kageyama, something that feels solid and real for once. It makes him feel solid and real, just like he does during a game, except the game is over and now just looking at this idiot is making him feel this way.
All he can do is roll his eyes, but the ghost of a smile remains on his face.
Daichi and Suga are starting to get everyone up now, various groans ringing out as the players struggle to their feet, and Kageyama takes that as his cue to get Hinata over to the physician. He helps him stand and then keeps a hand on his elbow as he pivots around to kneel in front of him, his back to the other boy.
“Up you go,” Kageyama says in a high-pitched voice as if he were talking to a baby, and a flurry of insults erupts from behind him. He figures it’s better to turn all of the potential embarrassment from this situation onto Hinata — that way he spares himself of it and also gets the added bonus of pissing the dumbass off.
Hinata growls and clambers onto his partner’s back and grabs hold of his shoulders, but once he’s up his tirade of expletives stops and suddenly his tone shifts. Kageyama can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice and he gets the feeling the tables are about to be turned on him.
Hinata points straight ahead and kicks his legs. “Onward, noble steed!” He cheers, and the rest of the team laughs good-naturedly nearby.
Yeah. Turntables or whatever.
Kageyama just grumbles and heads for the door, although he pauses to get directions from Kiyoko before they leave. “Keep us posted!” Suga calls from somewhere behind him, and he nods even though he doesn’t know if it’s visible.
By the time there’s nobody around, they’ve made it only two hallways away from the gym, and the second they’re alone Hinata finally slumps heavily into the hold. Kageyama huffs with amusement. “Took you long enough.”
“What’s that mean?” The exhausted boy mutters.
“You know you don’t have to keep up some kind of brave face around the other guys, right?”
Hinata scowls and tugs on Kageyama’s ear, earning himself a hearty jostling. “I just don’t want them to worry,” he says quietly. “Also, you’re kind of wrong. It’s a problem if the guys can tell I’m crapped out. A big part of my job is keeping up morale on the team.”
Kageyama’s brow furrows. “Uh, no it isn’t? You’re a middle blocker. Your job is blocks, fake-outs and spikes.”
Hinata tugs on his ear again, and this time Kageyama allows it with a huff. Damn, he’s getting soft. “Yeah, that’s my job with the ball,” Hinata says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “But volleyball isn’t just about the ball — it’s about the people on your team, too. I think the main thing I bring to the group is, like… enthusiasm. Or positivity, maybe. I think when I get excited about stuff, other people get excited, too. So part of my job is making sure everyone is excited to play. Y’know?”
Kageyama blinks. He… well, no, he hadn’t known that, but now that he hears it out loud, it… sort of makes sense. Hinata does bring a raw enthusiasm and determination to their team, and more often than not, it’s infectious. Is that… does he really take something like that as seriously as the game itself? Huh. But what… “What the hell do I bring to the group?” Kageyama hears himself mutter aloud, and before he can take it back, Hinata laughs and flicks the back of his head.
“You bring your crazy-strong drive to get better. It’s so crazy that it makes all of us want to get better, too. You push us to push ourselves and each other — it makes everything so much more fun when people care about what they’re doing.”
Kageyama finds himself speechless. How the fuck did he just… Hinata just said all that like it was nothing! It was like he didn’t even have to think about it, like it was completely logical and second-nature — is it just obvious to him? Is it obvious to everyone else? Has Kageyama been totally missing this part of the sport?
Hinata flicks his head again. “Hey. Stop thinking so hard. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
Kageyama’s voice returns with a growl in it. “Shut up, dumbass.” He walks in silence for another few seconds, but he just can’t shake the thoughts from his head, so he sighs and glances at his partner over his shoulder. “Is this, like… does everyone psychoanalyze their teammates, or is this just a you thing?”
“I’m not psychoanalyzing you guys,” Hinata huffs, “I just know my friends. I have no idea if anyone else thinks about it. You’re the worst, by the way.”
“Uh huh. Well, if you think you have to act all tough in front of the other guys, why don’t you do it in front of me? I’m the one who’s most likely to give you shit for… well, anything, I guess.”
Hinata gives a confused hum. “Because you’re you…?” He says.
“Wow, that is so not an answer.”
“Well, okay, I don’t know what you’re looking for here!” The boy squawks. “Why would I need to put on an act in front of you?”
“Because I’m one of the guys on the team, too?”
“Yeah, but you’re, like… different.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“No, I mean— it’s because you’re my partner, okay? I’m— I know I never have to act in front of you because I… trust you. With, uh. Kind of everything, actually, now that I’m thinking about it. Am I not supposed to? You’re my best friend.”
Kageyama freezes — stops cold in the middle of the hallway. He turns farther to be able to look Hinata in the eye. “I— what?”
Hinata blinks, brows furrowed. “What?”
“I’m— how the hell am I your best friend?”
Hinata’s eyes narrow further with confusion. “What? What do you mean?”
“You— I mean, you…” Kageyama trails off and tries again, biting back his annoyance with his own inability to put things into words. “You know so many people. And everyone likes you. You even managed to make friends with that Nekoma setter who always seems really bored. And the iron wall guy from Date Tech who literally never speaks.”
Hinata’s nose scrunches. “So?”
In a fit of frustration, words slip past Kageyama’s teeth without his permission and his voice cracks just the tiniest bit. “You could be best friends with anybody. Why the hell would you pick me?”
Hinata is silent, staring at him with wide eyes. It’s enough to send a wave of shame and burning embarrassment crashing over him. He normally doesn’t do weird, sad outbursts like that, dammit! He’s not supposed to—
“Because you’re the best of all of them?”
Kageyama’s head snaps up, but Hinata’s apparently not done talking. The boy is staring at him with his stupidly bright eyes, full of excitement and admiration, but also daring him to present a rebuttal.
“I mean, your sets are amazing and you get so creative with them but you’re still so good at all the other parts of the game, too— like, you can receive and spike and block so well even though that’s not even your main job. And— well, you can do all those crazy things but you still let me be your partner even though I have way less experience and I suck at a lot of stuff. You still… I mean, you think I’m worth competing with, and that… means a lot to me, I guess. I mean, sure, you’re mopey and grumpy and you kind of suck at talking to people, but you’re also really strong and loyal and honest. And you care about things, even if you pretend not to. You’re so passionate about volleyball and you always go out of your way to learn new tosses if you think they’ll help. And you care about all of us— the team, I mean. You were considerate enough to talk to Sugawara about the setter position so that you wouldn’t step on his toes, and you really built up Asahi’s confidence in that one scrimmage with the neighborhood team. Dude, you care so much that you’re literally carrying me on your back right now. You’re the coolest person I know and— and—” Hinata huffs and squeezes his eyes shut like he’s trying to force something past his lips, his cheeks puffed out and pink with embarrassment. “And you’re the only one I want to go to the top with.” He pauses and swallows, his voice growing quieter, more uncertain. “I— I mean, that’s what I want to do, at least. Go to the top with you. That’s— well, that’s where we belong, right? We’re invincible together.”
And, just— fuck .
Hinata has fallen silent, his face burning so hot that Kageyama can feel it on his neck. Kageyama struggles to find thoughts, let alone words. He can’t— what can he even say? He’s never been in touch with his emotions and here Hinata is, baring his entire soul to a guy who has no idea what to do with it. The only thing that really comes to mind is the idea that Hinata is probably talking too much considering his prior inability to breathe. There’s not—
Wait.
“You said I let you.”
Hinata perks up. “What?”
Kageyama whips his head around, damn near dropping his friend in the process, to fix him with a glare. “You said I let you be my partner,” he snaps, and Hinata blinks at him in confusion, which is enough of an affirmation for Kageyama. He lets go of Hinata’s legs and sets him on the ground, spinning around and towering over the smaller boy. Kageyama stares at him, fists clenched and jaw set, and Hinata stares back, wide-eyed and fidgety. “Listen to me,” Kageyama says, as if Hinata wasn’t already hyper-focused, here. “Volleyball is the most important thing in my life. I’ve learned to adapt to my teammates, but I refuse to compromise when it comes to this sport. I promised that I would never make tosses I regret and I would never apologize. You know that — you taught me that. Don’t you fucking dare act like you’re my partner just because.” He fists his hand in the front of Hinata’s shirt and drags him a few inches closer, putting himself right in the other boy’s face. Hinata’s eyes are even wider now and he does nothing to try to stop Kageyama, so he keeps talking, but at this point he finds it hard to hold as fierce of a glare. “I don’t let you be my partner, dumbass. I choose you as my partner. It isn’t just some— some mistake or coincidence. And I know, okay, I know that you suck at a lot of stuff and— and I choose you anyway.”
Hinata stares at him for a long moment, and all Kageyama can do is stand there and breathe and hope that Hinata breathes, too. Finally, the boy opens his mouth to speak, and still, he only says one word. “…Why?”
Kageyama blinks. Why? Why does he choose Hinata? That’s like asking why he wants to win, or why you eat when you’re hungry. He chooses Hinata because… because…
Kageyama sighs and lets go of the boy’s shirt, but doesn’t back away. “Don’t make me regret saying this,” he grumbles, and doesn’t wait for Hinata to nod before he’s sucking in a breath and rushing a sentence past his lips. “Because you showed me that I’m not alone on the court.” He swallows and tilts his head down and to the side, avoiding Hinata’s eyes. “And… and you reminded me that volleyball is… fun. It… hadn’t been. In a while.” He sighs and tries to force himself to look up at his friend, and when he does, he kind of wishes he hadn’t; Hinata probably would’ve looked less surprised if you told him he aced an English test. He swallows down his doubts and pushes forward; he’s already here, after all, and Kageyama Tobio is somebody who sees things through. He stares directly into Hinata’s eyes and tries to convey everything through them that his words can’t. “You’ll get better. We will get better. And we’re going to the top. Both of us.”
Hinata blinks, once, twice, and then suddenly Kageyama is being slammed into by an armful of tiny dumbass. He lets out an oof and stumbles back a step before he realizes exactly what just happened, and he looks down to see a mop of bright orange curls being shoved against his chest. Hinata’s arms are wrapped around his torso and his forehead is pressed stubbornly into Kageyama’s collarbone, which kind of makes the taller boy want to laugh even though he knows that this probably isn’t the time. He stares for a minute, unsure of what to do, but it occurs to him that the last time someone hugged him — his sister, Miwa — he felt kind of stiff and uncomfortable. Now, though, with Hinata, he just feels… warm. Normal, but warm — like… like home.
He drapes one arm across Hinata’s shoulders and, with only mild hesitation, checks to make sure the hallway is still empty before dropping his other hand on top of his head, burying his fingers into the fluffy orange curls. He feels the moment Hinata lets go of whatever tension he’d been holding onto. Kageyama allows himself to do the same, and all at once it hits him that fuck, he’s tired. They played a full game against their biggest rival today, plus all the various panic and emotional fluctuation that came from— from what happened to Hinata.
Kageyama sighs and decides that just this once, maybe he can show just a little bit of weakness. They’re alone, after all, and Hinata already proved that he trusts him enough to not have to put on a brave face — maybe Kageyama can do that, too. He sighs and lets his head tip forward until his cheek is resting on Hinata’s crown, his hand migrating to the back of his head to continue carding through his hair.
“Don’t tell the guys,” he mumbles.
Hinata laughs, and Kageyama is relieved to hear how normal it sounds. “What, don’t tell them you’re a secret sap?” Hinata huffs. “Sure thing.”
Kageyama scoffs, but doesn’t move, and neither does Hinata. For a long, long moment, he lets himself revel in this feeling of comfort.
“Are you okay?” Hinata asks after a second, and Kageyama is about to ask what the hell he’s talking about when he realizes that he might already know. He’s suddenly flooded with fresh memories: Hinata on the floor, unable to breathe, his skin turning blue and his eyes rolling back, silent and small and so not Hinata that it hurts to even look at him.
Kageyama swallows. He knows what his friend is asking. “I… you, um. You scared me.”
Hinata hugs him a little tighter, and yeah, they are definitely never telling the team about this. “I know,” he says. He pulls back gradually and looks straight at Kageyama with those huge, earnest eyes. And when a blinding grin splits his lips, Kageyama knows that despite everything that has happened today, they’re both still the same people with the same friendship. “But you got me all fixed up. See?” Hinata moves back a step and swings his arms behind him, jumping entirely too high into the air. He lands with that same stupid smile on his face and doesn’t so much as wince, although he coughs once and wobbles slightly, prompting Kageyama to steady him with a hand on his shoulder. “Good as new!”
Kageyama rolls his eyes. “Uh huh. You’re not getting out of going to the physician, y’know. And don’t be jumping when we’re not even letting you walk.” He turns his back to Hinata and crouches down expectantly. “Up you go.”
Hinata immediately bursts into colorful protests even with nobody around to listen to them, but after a moment he climbs on anyway. He continues complaining as Kageyama stands and restarts his walk towards the physician, electing to largely ignore his friend. Nonetheless, he finds a small smile spreading across his face.
No matter what happens — days like today, conversations like that one, a million stupid fights in between — Kageyama knows that he and Hinata
will
get to the top together. There’s nobody else he’d choose to have by his side.