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Tobio looked up and there he was, walking out of a convenience store with a plastic grocery bag in hand.
Stuck in his thoughts, Tobio must have wandered here unconsciously. He hadn’t been in this part of Miyagi since middle school graduation.
It was a little weird not to see him in Aoba Johsai colors, but Tobio could recognize Oikawa Tooru anywhere. In this case, messy hair and an all-black ensemble did nothing to alter Oikawa’s beauty, not when the hazy lighting of the setting sun made him glow.
“Oikawa-san,” he hastily called out when it seemed the other hadn’t seen him.
He grimaced, the words having formed on his tongue before his mind could catch up. What was the point of setting himself up for failure like this? He always relented to the twelve-year-old inside of him who called for Oikawa’s attention, yet actually speaking with Oikawa left him unbalanced.
Well, perhaps things would be different this time.
After all, despite Tobio practically humiliating himself, Oikawa did end up giving him solid advice. More importantly, Nationals was already done and over — soon, the third-years would be moving on. With Karasuno’s win against Aoba Johsai, Oikawa and Tobio were tied 1-1… Tobio felt like they were finally at the start of something new.
By half-way through that fateful year in Kitagawa Daiichi, Tobio had already come to terms with the fact that Oikawa-senpai did not like him.
And that was fine.
Tobio only needed Oikawa Tooru the volleyball player, best setter in the prefecture, the ‘someone better’ Kazuyo-san promised would find him.
The problem was that the person and the player were one and the same, not separate entities Tobio could compartmentalize. Just as Oikawa Tooru the volleyball player was seared as someone admirable in Tobio's mind, he subconsciously sought out Oikawa Tooru the person too. It was impossible not to anyways, not when Oikawa had a gravitational pull that attracted others to him.
Tobio had always taken care of his hands, but now he gave them extra attention because Oikawa-san’s hands are beautiful. He took to drinking milk and sleeping on time because Oikawa-san ruffled Kunimi’s hair because he grew taller. He put in a little more effort into his studies because I want to be smart like Oikawa-san. He even asked Oikawa to teach him that jump serve because Iwaizumi-san said Oikawa-san is weak to genuine compliments and if I beat Oikawa-san, I’ll be the best setter in the prefecture.
And then the third years graduated Kitagawa Daiichi and Tobio was suddenly alone, running ahead of the pack. Gone were Oikawa and Iwaizumi in front, arguing as they led the team through laps around the school. Gone was Oikawa after practice, slamming serve after serve after serve. Gone, too, were the teasing words that greeted Tobio each day at practice, a bridge that connected Tobio with the rest of the team. He was alone at home, alone at class, and eventually, alone in volleyball.
It had been an almost unbearably lonely time, watching as Kageyama Tobio made way for Kageyama, King of the Court.
Then, when Karasuno won against Aoba Johsai, Tobio was sure that things were changing. With each set against Oikawa, he was reclaiming parts of himself. He grew beyond the tyrannical king and became Kageyama Tobio once again and proved Karasuno were the stronger six. He hadn’t decisively won against Oikawa yet, especially not if what Hinata said was true and Oikawa read them at the end, but it was a step in the right direction.
This little bubble of optimism sat with him through the spring season… Because even when his world expanded beyond Miyagi, when he met talented high school servers, setters, and spikers from across Japan, nothing scared him quite like Oikawa did. Not Hinata, who demanded something monstrous in every toss; not Ushijima, who Oikawa had never won against; not Atsumu, who Japan considered the best high-school setter; not the bright lights of Nationals, nor the quietness of his empty house.
Oikawa turned at the sound of his name. His eyes widened and his lips curled, as if pleasantly surprised to see Tobio on this side of Miyagi. He opened his mouth to say something but paused, eyes flickering.
Tobio expected a plastered on smile or a sour sneer, but it was hard to make out Oikawa’s expression. Was that amusement or irritation?
Oikawa’s schooled his face into something intentionally blank and Tobio braced himself for something hurtful:
“Kageyama.”
Something hurt indeed.
He blinked.
It was just a name, his name in fact, but it felt like he had been struck.
And it should have made him happy because Oikawa acknowledged him, responded politely even.
Polite…
That was the problem, wasn’t it? Oikawa was never polite — never polite with Tobio — because polite meant detached.
Detached.
As if…
As if they were strangers.
Well, strictly speaking, they barely knew each other. They had spent one year on the same middle school team, nearly three years ago. They’d played against each other in exactly three games, one of which was a practice match Oikawa barely participated in.
But so many things inextricably tied them together, their relationship not simply two ex-teammates.
Beating Shiratorizawa and going to Nationals was the first time Tobio felt like he stepped outside of Oikawa’s shadow. It was as freeing as it was intimidating; Nationals was still Nationals, after all. At Nationals, he was Kageyama Tobio, starting setter of Karasuno who had been invited to the National Youth Training Camp. In Miyagi though, there was an additional, unescapable title that preceded him: Oikawa’s kouhai.
Perhaps to Karasuno and to those who had watched him play in middle school, Tobio was ‘King of the Court’. That was why when Hinata and Karasuno learned Oikawa was his middle-school senpai, suddenly Oikawa was the Great King, perpetually a grander royal than the King of the Court.
To everyone else though, he was the protégé of Oikawa Tooru, best all-around high school player and best high school setter in the prefecture. All the powerhouse schools of Miyagi — Seijoh, Date Tech, Johzenji, Wakutani Minami, even Shiratorizawa — had looked at Tobio and expected greatness, not because he was a genius but because he was Oikawa’s kouhai.
There was the way Tobio knew Oikawa's favorite food was milk bread long before that stupid magazine interview, even knew the exact bakery Oikawa preferred to buy it from. He also knew Oikawa liked cute things, that he would pause to snap pictures of stray cats or that mini alien figurine in the window display.
And Tobio would never text or call first because he feared talking with Oikawa just as much as he anticipated it, but Oikawa was still saved as an emergency contact. He never deleted the contact, phone number and address seared into his brain even if he did.
Most embarrassingly, and Tobio would never admit it, but Tobio's favorite color was blue. People assumed it was because of his eyes, but he liked blue in general. Sky blue, the dark blue of Mikasa-brand balls, the unique blue from his favorite milk brand, Kitagawa Daiichi blue, Aoba Johsai blue. Volleyball (and Oikawa) had always been shades of blue.
And so he could recognize Oikawa in a crowded room, eyes and ears drawn to Oikawa’s set, to his serve, to his jump, to his hands, to his voice, to his person.
And here Oikawa was, waving away any connection with one quick word.
‘Oikawa-senpai’ became ‘Oikawa-san’, but ‘Tobio-chan’ remained ‘Tobio-chan’ even after all these years.
And Tobio hated it, relished in it. Oikawa gave people names like it was his birthright, picking and choosing and molding them in ways he saw fit.
But to be named was to be seen.
Tobio was King of the Court to Kitagawa Daiichi because he demanded their unwavering loyalty, using and discarding them like pawns on a chessboard. He was transformed into a new King with Karasuno, where he’d learned to be a benevolent leader that trusted his teammates. He was Tobio-kun to Atsumu, but only in equivalent exchange — Miya Atsumu wanted to be known as Atsumu and not as Miya.
Who did Oikawa see when he looked at Kageyama Tobio, what exactly did it mean for him to be Tobio-chan?
Was Tobio perpetually that uselessly adorable twelve-year old? But Kunimi had never been ‘Akira-chan’, even back in Kitagawa Daiichi. And the -chan clearly wasn’t malicious, since Iwaizumi was still ‘Iwa-chan’.
‘Tobio-chan’ wasn’t a nickname either, not in the way ‘Kyouken-chan’ and ‘Chibi-chan’ were. It wasn’t even the same as Oikawa using ‘Ushiwaka-chan’, since Ushijima was 'Ushiwaka' to half of Japan.
But Oikawa never called him ‘Kageyama’ or ‘King’ like everyone else. It was always that sickly sweet, facetiously intimate ‘Tobio-chan’ — Tobio, Tobio, Tobio.
Until now.
An irrational sort of frustration simmered in his veins.
Oh, now he was ‘Kageyama’? Obviously he hadn't expected any flowery words of praise, but 'Kageyama'?!
When Sugawara called him ‘Kageyama-kun’, it was an acknowledgement. When Oikawa did the same — Oikawa Tooru who had taken one look at him and proclaimed him Tobio-chan — becoming Kageyama was a denial of his being.
Instead of starting a new chapter, Oikawa was ripping out pages of his heart and throwing them away. Was this Oikawa showing him some grace? Cutting off the last threads of their wretched attachment before he left?
He thought going from Kageyama Tobio to King of the Court had hurt, but this felt like losing more than just identity.
Because for years, Oikawa had been the only person to call him anything resembling Tobio. Teachers, coaches, classmates, teammates… Most people never got close enough to cross that line. Even now, no one at Karasuno, not even Hinata.
Perhaps it was for the better, for everyone who ever called him Tobio left him behind — his parents chose their careers over their children, Miwa chose her education, and Kazuyo-san was no longer here. Now even Oikawa would be leaving, moving on towards things he saw as bigger and brighter and more important than Tobio-chan. And then he really would be Kageyama, no one left in Miyagi to see him as Tobio.
[Perhaps one day someone else — maybe Hinata or Tsukishima or Yamaguchi or Yachi — would see him as Tobio, but he couldn’t take losing another person to make that happen.
Especially not if it was Oikawa Tooru he’d be losing.]
“Oikawa-san,” he seethed, lurching forward. Desperate, hurt, confused.
He wanted to grab Oikawa and shake him for answers. Had he watched Karasuno triumph against Shiratorizawa? At Nationals? As his senpai, had Oikawa felt even an ounce of pride? Why did it feel like Oikawa was walking away from something that hadn’t even started?
Oikawa avoided him, plastic bag rustling as he took a step back. “Kageyama, what a pleasant surprise.”
The world’s fakest smile stretched across his face. The words were clipped and clear, like someone reading off a teleprompter, dripping with insincerity.
Tobio always found him hard to read, but he could tell when Oikawa was putting on airs. After years of fake smiles and barbed words, Tobio had no choice but to learn to read between the lines. And though Oikawa’s voice did not shake, they came out stilted and awkward, as if Oikawa was just as uncomfortable speaking them into existence as Tobio was to hear them.
For some reason, Oikawa was trying to dodge this conversation, aiming calculated words to make Tobio leave. Why was Oikawa pushing himself in this way? Why was he pushing Tobio in this way?
When two sides are stubborn, a moment of weakness was all that was needed. And as a setter who’d learned from the best, if he couldn’t find one, Tobio was going to create one.
“Oikawa-san,” Tobio repeated, taking another step. Searching, reaching out once more.
Who am I to you?
“Kag…,” Oikawa seemed to choke on his words as he stepped back. Tobio wasn’t sure what his expression was like, but even the proud Oikawa-san seemed to sense that something was not quite right. Had he seen the anger and confusion in Tobio's eyes? Realized that it was way too late to un-cross this line? His expression was a lot more wary and uncharacteristically tentative when he spoke again. “Tobio…?”
[Ah, he was Tobio again.
Oikawa’s guard may still be up, but the ball was firmly in Tobio's court for once.]
He took a final step and Oikawa had nowhere to go. They were about the same height now, Oikawa still a little taller, but Tobio had him cornered.
Oikawa’s face was carefully blank as they stared at each other. His arms hung neutrally at his sides, laden with only a single plastic bag.
They were close enough for Tobio to count Oikawa’s eyelashes, his own determined expression reflected in brown eyes. The other’s normally calculating gaze was more open than he had ever seen it.
Once he was semi-confident that he wouldn’t be slapped if he moved, Tobio reached over and pulled lightly at the plastic bag.
And for all that Tobio took the initiative to approach Oikawa, to chase after him again and again, his voice was almost pleading. Soft, reverent.
“Tooru.”
Tooru trembled once, breath hitching as he closed his eyes.
Tobio took it as the acceptance it was and gently peeled the bag out of Tooru’s hand, looping it over his wrist and lacing their hands together. In another bold move, he tilted his head forward slowly, carefully resting his forehead on Tooru’s shoulder and breathed in.
One hand came up near Tooru’s waist, clutching at his jacket like it had done all those years ago.
He breathed out but did not move.
And Tooru let him.