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1.
Hinata loves volleyball with every drop of blood in his body, with every cell on his bruised arms, and every gasp of air that escapes from his aching lungs. That is why it is so easy for him to throw himself into training with abandon. That is why he cannot entertain the idea of another loss.
Because Hinata’s first experience on the court ran dry in the blink of an eye. Thirty-one minutes passed, and now Hinata needs to find another goal to obsess over. Another opportunity to play volleyball. Because what else would he do?
So he vows to get revenge on the Great King. And he trains with anyone that will take him. Regret chases him as he spikes and bikes and jumps and waits and waits and waits. For summer to pass by, and for high school to begin. For his opportunity to be on the court again.
When Hinata meets Kageyama for the second time, he’s more confused than anything else. But the confusion is easily met with anger because why did volleyball always bring him more obstacles? How was he supposed to get revenge if his rival was on the same side of the net? If the Great King was now supposed to be his setter?
Unfortunately, any plans for revenge would have to wait. Because Kageyama refused to set to Hinata. He wouldn’t play with Hinata at all if he had the choice, would ignore him the entire game if he could.
He doesn’t trust Hinata. Doesn’t think Hinata has what it takes to keep the ball from falling on their side of the court.
Well, Hinata doesn’t trust him either! But he’s never had a setter before, and has never been on a team, so he’ll take what he can get.
His quasi-anger bubbles over his despair and the memory of Kageyama’s cruel words. Because their face-off only proves him right: Hinata had wasted the last three years. No matter how hard he tried, Kageyama had beat him again.
Kageyama had grown farther than Hinata could ever reach. He was 180cm of jump serves, annoying precision, and deserving confidence Hinata has never been able to pull off. He’s probably the best volleyball player Hinata’s age, and he thinks Hinata isn’t worth his time on the court.
It’s unfair, irritating, and just annoying! Kageyama is basically guaranteed a spot on the team, given everything he wanted. It’s obvious with the way he stands, his squeaky-clean new shoes, and their senpais’ easily-given attention. And—worst of all—he may be more deserving of time on the court.
But right now the both of them are at the same point—outlawed from the gym barring their early-morning rendezvous. So Hinata swallows his pride and practices the only way he knows how: with everything he’s got. Sometimes even that is not enough; his receives often still go astray, his serves suck, and he can barely block. But when he jumps, Kageyama has no choice but to look at him.
He will make himself worth Kageyama’s time on the court.
And it doesn’t matter if Kageyama thinks he is a waste of time. If he would rather do everything himself. If he promises to not set to Hinata. Because Hinata will make himself worthy. He will jump with every last breath he has, as they practice from dawn to dusk.
Hinata earns a set from Kageyama. It’s hardly forgiveness, not even trust, but it's enough for now. It’s hope. It’s proof that his efforts weren’t wasted.
So they play together. And after Hinata has given his days to practice, Kageyama gives this match to him. He devotes each toss to memorizing Hinata’s jump. Matching his rhythm, his point of impact. Watching him take flight. And it is worth it, it is all worth it.
Hinata is finally here. On the court. And he will take any toss Kageyama gives him. It doesn’t matter how high, or how fast. He will take any and every opportunity to hit the ball one more time. He sees the sun shine over the net as he reaches the peak of his jump. Kageyama has tossed to him again, and it feels like a gift from god.
Hinata’s first win is just another to Kageyama. But he is willing to move this self-imposed rivalry onto the back burner, at least for a little while. Thanks to Kageyama’s hands, he can reach the summit. Kageyama is the reason he is able to stay at this new height and continue doing what he loves.
Their second encounter introduces Hinata to Kageyama’s focus. Because now they practice, and it is Hinata pushing Kageyama to his limits. He runs and he jumps just as he always has, with breath heavy with anticipation. And Kageyama focuses all his energy on sending the ball high up.
His sets are perfection. Hinata has never been exact with anything. He is full of unbridled passion that bleeds into never-ending motivation. He is roughly hewn athleticism whereas Kageyama is carefully-polished genius.
Hinata, with his scratched-up bike, scraped knees, and worn shoes, is the only one who can match Kageyama on the court. Kageyama has put in ten thousand hours to reach his current strength. But Hinata hasn’t had that time; it’s his determination that lets him fly.
Kageyama carries him to victory. Hinata is able to see the court clearly from up above. Kageyama needs someone to spike his sets. And Hinata would never tire of hitting the ball. It's as simple as that. Hinata may not be able to trust his rival right away, but he loves volleyball enough to try.
☀︎ ☀︎ ☀︎
2.
Whenever Hinata closes his eyes, he is able to hear the echo of a ball falling down onto the court. Months have passed and he is finally part of a team. There are whispers at practice, about how he and Kageyama could carry their team to victory. How they are perfect together.
His stomach aches when they enter the inter-high gym; even now, his nerves weigh him down before each match. But his senpais ruffle his hair and shower him with praise. It isn’t everything, but it’s all he needs to calm down. The first whistle blows and his feet are light with the assurance that the ball is coming his way.
The year rushes by and Hinata savors each and every win. Each match is longer, more arduous. But Hinata doesn’t want them to ever end, raring to go time after time.
Then they play against Aoba Josai. And before he knew it, the ball he hit was on the ground behind him.
Hinata took his time celebrating his victories. He had gotten used to letting his satisfaction linger, acknowledging that he had another opportunity to stay on the court. To become stronger.
His losses have a habit of rushing by, leaving only regret in their wake.
His first high-school tournament was already over. Hinata figured that he would cower in the face of his opponents' height, strength, and prowess. He never thought they would lose because Kageyama was read by an opposing setter. Like trusting Hinata was an easily-predicted ruse.
It’s unfair to blame Kageyama for their loss. At the end of the day, he wasn’t the only one on the court. At the end of the day, Hinata flew but was the weakest mid-air.
He never wants Kageyama to regret setting to him again.
He knows Kageyama is better than him, a formidable might on his own. Hinata is just the sail that catches Kageyama’s strong winds, that is carried in his storm. But it still aches to see his back so far away, following victory out of Hinata’s grasp.
Kageyama’s genius carries him to the National Youth training camp. He’s with the best in the country, and only getting better. It is all Hinata can do, to find new ways to practice on the ground.
So it hurts, of course it hurts, when Kageyama leaves for Tokyo. It’s clear proof that Kageyama is leaps and bounds ahead of Hinata.
And yet, Hinata can’t help but be excited. He gets to hit tosses from one of the best high school setters in the country! It’s a far cry from Shoji’s tosses to him in middle school.
He won’t waste another year. Hinata has spent too long staring at the sky, forgetting how much he could learn from the concrete down below. Every jump needs good footing. He intends to make a home on the court, so he gets his head out of the clouds. Now that Kageyama is so far ahead of him, all he can do is catch up. Improve any and every other skill, until Kageyama returns and he can fly again.
He sneaks into the Shiratorizawa Youth Camp. And it is maybe the stupidest thing he’s ever done. But when in Rome he is able to watch the Romans, and cop a few new strategies in the process. Hinata’s greatest strengths are a tapestry of the athletes he’s idolozied, now he gets to watch them up close.
He watches the setters and finds them lacking. But maybe Hinata is baised towards someone spending his nights in the big city. Hinata is spending a week with his greatest competitors in Miyagi. But they’re not his rivals, not like Kageyama is. And he won’t lose, not yet.
So Hinata bikes up a mountain each day, and takes notes on a proper athlete’s diet, and dedicates himself to being a ball boy. He trains and trains every day till the week finally passes by, and Kageyama returns home.
They argue, because what else is there to do? Their reunion is like every other meeting, livewire and excited. Hinata is almost disappointed by Kageyama’s lackluster descriptions of the camp, but leave it to Idiotyama to pay more attention to linoleum floors than the second-best ace in all of Japan.
Hinata can sense the ever-forthcoming crush of incompetence on his shoulders as he walks up the stairs, wondering if he has wasted another week. If this is another time Kageyama has been handed greatness and growth while Hinata has had to fight for scraps. But Kageyama disrupts his pondering with a declaration, maybe even a promise.
“You can fly even higher.”
So he will.
☀︎ ☀︎ ☀︎
When the sun is at it’s peak in the sky, it shines the brightest. Hinata isn’t there yet, but he’s on the way to a new apex. He’s only getting stronger and it shows with the careful intent behind his actions on the court.
Maybe Kageyama is getting to him, but his athleticism has never shined as strong than when he thinks before he acts. He is slowly reaping the benefits of a week of silent observation.
They both returned to the team…different. Kageyama is acting like a king again, but who cares? It’s not like Hinata is going to stop demanding tosses.
And where all of Hinata’s change has been devoted to his personal improvement, Kageyama’s has been catered to him. To precise tosses, to calculated falls. He has given so much, why shouldn’t he be able to take, if that’s even what this is? As if Kageyama would ever sacrifice the team, would ever sacrifice volleyball.
Maybe it is because Hinata has gotten to know him so well, on and off the court. Because they both have become accustomed to each others’ presence, their yells and their quiet. So he knows that Kageyama’s recent annoyance is just a symptom of his desire to become stronger. His wants to be the best, to stay on the court.
Hinata wonders when he started being able to read Kageyama’s mind, even off the court.
But even that is a little dismissive. Because Kageyama is not just any teammate. Or another classmate that failed his finals. Or just someone he passes by on his way to school.
Kageyama has been by Hinata’s side for every victory and every loss. It doesn’t matter, that they grow the most when they’re apart. Because they have always been the strongest when together, a perfect duo.
Kageyama isn’t his enemy any longer. He is Hinata’s one and only rival. The idea that pushes him beyond his limits. The presence in all his best dreams, accompanied by roaring crowds and polished gymnasium floors.
Maybe Hinata is the only one who could keep up with Kageyama, or maybe Kageyama is the only monster that could keep up with Hinata. Who can surpass him, make him run even farther than he once thought. He’s more than a teammate, more than a friend. He has cemented himself as Hinata’s partner on the court.
Time slows down again as they win and win and win. Together.
☀︎ ☀︎ ☀︎
3.
Hinata’s first year ends much like it started, with a loss. Except now he’s stronger than he ever was. He has studied and he has trained and he has flown.
A year ago his body was all that could be trusted. Now it is the one thing that failed him. His endless stamina finally petered out, his once-strong legs unable to keep him up on the court.
A fever pushes him away from the team. From their pitying eyes, from promises of waiting. He’s already spent so long waiting, why can’t he play? Just for a few more minutes, a few more points. He already knows how short thirty-one minutes is, and knows that this match won’t last much longer.
It doesn’t matter though. Because Hinata needs to rest the same way he needs to eat and breathe and try again later on. It is the next step he must take, a momentary detour from his success in volleyball. And perhaps an end to his career as the perfect decoy.
The third-years will be leaving without a victory at Nationals. Suga-san assures him that they’ve already accomplished more than he ever thought possible. That it was thanks to Hinata and Kageyama that their team even had this chance. But that doesn’t really matter. What do chances matter, when they lost?
The entire team comes to visit him and Yachi at the infirmary. His mother just finished berating him over the phone, asking Hitoka-chan to remind him to take care of himself. Everyone else echoes her promise, declaring they will be more diligent in the future. But Hinata blinks again and the third-years are gone, and really how long will he have with these people on the court?
His heart aches more than his head ever could and Hinata feigns tiredness. It’s a poor excuse to ignore Noya-san’s jokes, Yamaguchi’s watchful eye, and even Stingyshima’s generous worry.
They pour out of his room, slowly, a receding wave. Dachi-san looks back before shutting the door, pity pooling in his eyes, and Hinata feels like he is drowning slowly but surely.
He engraves this feeling across his chest, vowing to never return to it. He will take care of himself, always and forever, because he doesn’t want to feel this disappointed ever again.
Kageyama stayed back, still waiting near Hinata’s cot.
It strikes Hinata all of a sudden. The end to his bike rides back home, across the mountains. Having to stop watching others play between their own matches. Not being able to fly, one last time, in Tokyo. All the ways he was overestimating his body, aspects of his day-to-day life that were just afterimages of his time with Kageyama.
Kageyama’s fists have been clenching and unclenching, the guilt his hands hold refusing to shatter. But he makes a choice, between then and now, and his smile is smug as usual when he looks up.
“I won this too.”
And the joke—the promise—is a breath of fresh air. Meanness is a refreshing adjustment from the team’s previous constraining coddles.
Because this too is volleyball. “I’m not done yet.” And he means it kinda, but really, the two of them are not done yet. Not for a while, and Kageyama’s smile only grows in the face of the realization. His hands relax.
Kageyama leaves Hinata to spend the night at the infirmary. Now alone, he glances out the window up above. There’s no moon or stars from where he is lying down, just a clear night. Hinata wonders when he started to associate calm dark blue with a person.
☀︎ ☀︎ ☀︎
Hinata has a lot of experience holding Kageyama back, but not like this. Not with his shirt twisted in a fist, dragging him home.
“Who will you be tomorrow?” It's what Takeda-sensei asked him, at Nationals. Hinata was unsure then. The new year has him as Kageyama’s wrangler, his caretaker. The cuckoo bird in his alarm clock, reminding him that even. volleyball idiots need rest.
And it seems that the season of change has Kageyama responding to his texts. Biking with him home. Staying the night. Confiding in him.
Tobio tells Shoyou that his favorite food is pork katsu curry. Tomorrow sees them sharing a meal, friends bumping knees under the table.
Tobio spends more time at the Hinata household. One of those nights, Shoyou learns of how much he hates the quiet. Thankfully, Shoyou has never been the type to keep his mouth shut.
The moon waxes and wanes and the duo still practices, obviously. They soar all the way to nationals once more, the former-third years cheering them on at Inter Highs. But Shoyou and Tobio start spilling out of the box that is volleyball.
Rest days are spent at the beach. At the coast, on the docks, purchasing two cones of ice cream. Tobio stares off onto the sea, the silent noise far from an oppressive silence.
They work hard under the sun, play harder once it sets. Shoyou nights are no longer empty, an he is not plagued by regrets for a second more.
Ennoshita is a capable captain. He's able to reign the duo in, subdue Tsukishima’s taunts, even raise Tanaka’s quiz scores. And the year passes by, just as the last. Despite the echo of a loss, Shoyou doesn't feel saddened.
A glance to his side shows Tobio, grinning, appetite only wheted. He has spent another year on the court, cemented his worth. But really, things are just getting started.
☀︎ ☀︎ ☀︎
4.
Hinata is used to dreaming of victory, dreaming of winning. But now his dreams are softer, more mundane. He would like to pretend that it was maturity, but he’s sure the unearthed feelings are actually very juvenile.
Now, when Shoyou falls asleep in class, he dreams of eating lunch with Tobio under the cherry blossoms. And the taste of vending machine yogurt, or the pork curry that his mom now packs in two bentos.
He startles awake in class with a flaming face and his friends laugh at him. They make jokes about volleyball always being on his mind, but they couldn’t be farther from the truth. Because there is only one thing that has been recurring in his dreams, and it is not a volleyball.
But still, volleyball is a reason this all stays in dreams. It’s why he continues to elbow Tobio aside, whenever he worriedly asks Shoyou if he’s feeling alright, it’s why he doesn’t even attempt to verbalize the fireworks popping in his stomach.
It’s why Shoyou is used to the rumbling in his gut when he looks down at the “Five Year Plan” worksheet all third-years are required to complete. He pens down names he hears Tsukishima and Tobio tossing around, of universities that have been scouting their team. And at the bottom, he writes down his true plans, before handing his paper in to Ono-sensei.
Training in Brazil may not be the most realistic strategy, but Shoyou has already started exchanging emails with Kato-san. As always, he knows he needs to go above and beyond before going pro.
Nationals cements this, as Karasuno enters the semi-finals. Tsukkishima’s blocks are as sharp as ever. Yamaguchi gets as many service aces as usual. And Shoyou and Tobio are perfectly in sync. But even with Yachi’s cheers, their months of preparation, and his hand aching with the power of a good spike, Hinata once again watches the ball fall on their side of the court.
Yamaguchi reminds them to line up and thank the audience, an ever-collected captain even with tears collecting in his eyes. Shoyou and Tobio are shock-still, finally at the other end of their high school volleyball career.
It doesn’t sink in, as they quietly collect their medals. Or when they are on the bus back home, dozing off. The aftermath of the match passes by in snatches of awareness, exhaustion stealing their focus.
They are dropped off at the school, Tobio glances from the side, and Shoyou is hit with the thought that he doesn’t know. That Shoyou has a flight in four weeks, and Tobio doesn’t truly know.
Everyone on the team knows that Shoyou hasn’t signed on to a team yet. That he was always at the gym, never out of town to visit professional teams or university campuses. But they don’t yet know, that he’s spending the next year on the other side of the world.
They’re walking side-by-side, shoulders bumping and bicycles dragging across gravel. Tobio is coming home with him, a tradition the pair started last year. Shoyou looks up at the setting sun and is grasped by an exhaustion that has nothing to do with his fatigued body.
Tobio bumps into him again, this time with more purpose, “Idiot, what's wrong?”
Shoyou only stares back, his head still high up in the clouds, “What?”
“I’ve been trying to talk to you for five minutes, what’s wrong?”
Shoyou clenches and unclenches the hands grasping his handlebars. He can’t deal with the dying orange-yellow of the sun, and Tobio’s voice. It's roughened with disuse but still softer than their regular conversation—absent are the usual complaiints and curses. “Nothing’s wrong.” Not yet, not this second, as he notices the blue of Tobio’s eyes and doesn’t have to leave their little bubble for the rest of the night. Shoyou’s problems lay on the horizon, next to his dreams, all waiting to be acknowledged in the light of tomorrow.
“Dumbass.” There it is. “You’ve been distracted for weeks, what’s wrong?”
Shoyou’s next breath is taken with preparation. An acknowledgment that the universe has given him the perfect moment to let the truth spill out. But Shoyou also knows that he has made a life suspending the inevitable. He has spent years jumping as high as he can, delaying the fall. So he hesitates, for a small infinity that truly only lasts for a lapse of seconds.
“I’m moving to Brazil next month.”
Tobio holds silence unlike anyone else. It’s the quiet of the sea at night, the time between fireworks, the anticipation before a jump. It’s the quiet of Shoyou’s approaching dreams, waiting at the horizon for their moment of reckoning.
“I’ll be waiting when you come back.”
And Shoyou had forgotten it was that simple. That it was always this simple with Tobio.
He had grown weary of change. Of 2℃ increases in body heat, of the years passing by, of this grey-area between teammates and friends and other being erased all together. A dislike rooted by a fear of waking up and being unable to jump.
But with Tobio he never had to be afraid. Everytime, he just had to close his eyes and believe. And everytime, things worked out.
His head starts floating, as Tobio knocks their hips, calling Shoyou a dumbass again. He fumbles with a response, slow on the uptake, taking time to wind down after unnecessarily psyching himself up for so long.
“I won’t be gone long!” And although he hadn’t confirmed it, he knows it's true. Shoyou will return to battle it out with Tobio, the way he always does.
“You better not waste another year, dumbass.” Hinata won’t, he’s sure of it. And there is a smile on Tobio’s face before they race home. However down they may have felt, any disappointment about the match is long gone. He is free of the regret that plagued him, his first year. Because they aren’t done. With each other or volleyball.
It’s a truth that easily settles across Shoyou’s shoulders, as they get ready for dinner. It’s warm and light, glancing off Tobio’s smile as he thanks Shoyou’s mom for the meal. It shines alongside Tobio’s familiarity in his home, picking up his chopsticks that have been in the Hinata family’s drawers for a year. It’s there when Natsu thanks Tobio-chan for serving her an extra piece of pork, in the space between Shoyou and Tobio’s knees knocking. The heat between them both as they settle under the blankets, sharing a bed. It manifests in the three words on the tip of his tongue, but those will need to wait two more years.
Shoyou goes to sleep easy, dreaming of cherry blossoms, pork curry, reunions, and the feeling of home.
☀︎ ☀︎ ☀︎
5.
In a cruel turn of events, Shoyou doesn’t truly realize how much he misses Kageyama until he meets Tooru Oikawa on a random day at the beach.
The setter seems more mellow than their high school rival. He is still pompous and clever, deserving of his royal title. But the Great King of the Court doesn’t seem to have any minions to boss around, or any adversaries to poke fun at. Shoyou doesn’t know if Oikawa-san has grown out of his teasing, or if he doesn’t have anyone to make fun of anymore.
But Oikawa-san serves as a good mentor. He is there to stand by as Shoyou becomes accustomed to sliding across the sand. He outlines how Shoyou can incorporate more protein into his diet. He helps Shoyou set up his Skype account, and he teaches Shoyou how to handle his alcohol.
Oikawa tastes like sunscreen, salt, and regret. Shoyou thinks he may be getting sick of the summer sun. Before this never-ending August heat, Shoyou had never craved the night.
Apologies are doled out aplenty, and Shoyou continues his beach-volleyball-antics with the welcome presence of a friend. He now spends his nights being entertained by bad sci-fi and pointless conversation, not just Japanese to Portuguese dictionaries and futile attempts to catch up with the Schweiden Adlers. Fewer evenings are spent having his calls sent to voicemail and staring at the photo of Kageyama he keeps in his wallet.
But it is only when Oikawa interrupts their movie nights to pick up a call from 'Iwa-chan' that Shoyou realizes the distance between him and everything he has ever known. He is twelve hours behind everyone he loves and is finding it impossible to catch up.
Oikawa is gone after a month. Just a year ago, thirty days felt like a mini-forever, but now Shoyou is acutely aware of how little time it really is. They exchange numbers and promise to meet up once again before Hinata returns to a quiet phone and unwilling roommate.
Shoyou’s days are now empty, beach volleyball and his part-time job being the only things that entertain him. He spends more time than not thinking of leaving another voicemail, his second this week.
Kageyama hasn’t replied to him in eight days. All Shoyou knows is that he is in the middle of the season, playing match after match. Shoyou passes time keeping up with everyone else, but his heart aches so strongly that he wouldn’t be surprised to look down and find bruises. Shoyou misses Kageyama greatly, a realization that he has been unable to evade with his newly returned loneliness.
It all comes to a head on a random afternoon. Shoyou is making deliveries as he does every day. He has spent three months in Brazil and his tongue still fumbles with Portuguese, like the language is a solemn goodbye. Because of this confusion, one of his deliveries is late. Caught in the hubbub, a near hour passes before Shoyou realizes his bag is open. Missing the wallet Natsu gifted him, and the photo of Kageyama he treasured.
His tears are instant, a strong tidal wave, unlike the sea he had grown to love. Knowing he still has his ID and credit card does nothing to reassure the sadness beating him down. Still, he takes deep inhales as he makes his way back to his apartment, doing his best to keep calm. His tears slow on the walk back, a clotting wound.
He gets lost on the way back and reaches the threshold of his apartment twenty minutes later than expected. He stares down at his lock screen, a photo of all the third years reflected back at him. It's eight PM and he has no messages.
He enters the quiet apartment, the silence all-consuming and never-ending. He asks Pedro, his roommate, if he wants to play beach volleyball. Pedro declines, as he always does.
Shoyou goes to the beach and waits. He remembers what he came here for, and he refuses to forget. His loneliness is temporary, and soon he will get used to it and shifting sands and strong winds, the way he has gotten used to everything else. He stares across the ocean and shore until he can’t bear the sun, the heat reminiscent of a fever he had 3 years ago. The salt air has long dried his tears. Every breaking wave is loud, a clamor foreign to the sea waiting for him back home.
2016 is rushing away and Shoyou knows his time in Brazil is passing by. Yachi and Yamaguchi are studying together, graphic design and education. Kenma has started his Twitch channel, alongside regularly posting on YouTube. Bokuto-kun has been playing officially as part of the MSBY Jackals for months now and Akaashi-san is moving in. Pedro is becoming a closer friend, and they converse about the latest episodes of One Piece and Dragonball.
Kageyama texts once a fortnight, and they no longer try to call. They spent two days together during the Olympics before Kageyama was whisked away again. Shoyou briefly wonders if their relationship will always be a casualty of his improvement in volleyball before he brushes away the thought. No matter what, he and Kageyama are always at their best when they are on the court together.
But right now, Kageyama belongs to the big screens and stadiums.
Shoyou can now jump high and anticipate the unstable landing. He can now spike with both hands. He exercises, and rests, and waits, and waits, and waits. He has come far from his blind jumps at fifteen and waits knowing someone better is waiting for him, twelve hours away.
Shoyou befriends Heitor, and they compete together. They enter a championship, and Shoyou is renowned. Kageyama isn’t the only one to earn a nickname. Heitor calls him Ninja Shoyou and he laughs, remembering when he was called an inelegant Oni instead.
Heitor says he will propose to his girlfriend if they win the tournament. Unfortunately, even with Shoyou’s many new skills, they lose the semifinals. Part of him will always associate each new loss with his first one at high school nationals. It’s okay though, the week passes and Shoyou gets an invite for a wedding. He saves the date, a week before his return to Japan.
In his heart, Shoyou knows this is not the last time he will play with a proposal on the line.
☀︎ ☀︎ ☀︎
The day his flight lands, the sky is overcast. His mom is shocked at his tan, and Natsu squeals over the doll and gemstone clips he bought her. He is so happy he feels weightless, spinning Natsu around as her giggles get louder and louder.
They are staying in a hotel, a short drive from the airport. Tomorrow, Natsu will go sightseeing with their mom. Shoyou will be visiting a friend. He goes to bed, three hours from home. His belly is full and his heart couldn’t be fuller.
The next afternoon sees Shoyou walking to a park. Kageyama is already waiting at a bench, yogurt in hand, starting at something up above. All of a sudden, it is as if Shoyou took a wrong turn and walked two years into the past. But, as he puts one foot in front of the other, he becomes acutely aware of all of their differences.
Kageyama is taller, and he has filled out over the years of professional volleyball. He’s the starting player of an undefeated team, it’s obvious with the strength in his shoulders and the confidence in his jaw.
But when he finds Shoyou, in the corner of his eye, it is Tobio smiling up at him. “Took you long enough.”
And the Shoyou he is smiling at has grown 8 centimeters. Has become muscular and tanned. Has gotten used to shining without him. Has gotten used to the truth that is constantly echoing in his mind.
“I missed you.” It’s not the three words Shoyou planned to say, two years ago. Those words are in his misting eyes, in his calloused palms as he hugs Tobio.
“I missed you too.” And he sees those three words reflected back at him.
Things were always simple with Tobio. Twelve hours and two years couldn’t do anything to change that.
☀︎ ☀︎ ☀︎
+1.
Shoyou reunites with people in Sendai as Tobio finishes up the volleyball season in Tokyo. Two weeks pass and they are nothing and everything all at once. They move in together, in Tokyo. They have four months before Shoyou moves to Osaka in the fall, all part of his tryouts for the MSBY Jackals.
Shoyou loves playing with Tobio. They go to the park every weekend and serve and receive and spike. He ropes Kenma, Bokuto, Akaashi, and Kuroo into their games. But more often than not they play alone, just the two of them. Until their pants are stained with grass and they are too tired to do more than lay under the open sky.
But part of Shoyou was always meant to play against Tobio. Just as part of Tobio was always meant to play against Shoyou. They are perfect teammates and ever-enthusiastic competitors. So there is buzz across the V-League at Shoyou re-entering the volleyball scene, joining the Adler’s biggest rivals. But it was inescapable, the two of them reuniting on opposite sides of the net.
They make peace with the inevitability of their goodbye, knowing they will meet again. Either at home or on the court although the two words are now nearly synonymous for the pair.
Day to day life sees Tobio and Shoyou sharing a home. Having their toothbrushes held in the same jar. Cleaning up each other’s messes. Lying on the couch lazing in front of the television. Dual-commanding the kitchen. They both have lived alone for so long and yet they easily are able to make space for the other. As it has always been.
Shoyou doesn’t share those three words that once haunted him on the other side of the world. But he doesn’t feel the need to. Not when Tobio has his mom as his emergency contact. Not when he accompanies Shoyou on a shopping trip for Natsu's birthday. Not when he plays with Shoyou’s hair as they watch match highlights at sunset.
Tobio smiles freely now. Shoyou doesn’t waste his time wondering whether this change was over the last four months or the last two years. He doesn’t waste a single moment over the course of one hundred and twenty-two days.
They reunite with more friends, at restaurants and cafes and karaoke bars. Tobio is a constant presence at his side. Quieter than Shoyou, but smiling just as often, gripping his hand under the table. Shoyou makes a joke and turns his head, only to find Tobio already looking at him. He feels warmer than any time in the last two years.
Their goodbye is less dramatic than the previous one, a hug and a kiss.
Even in two different cities, they text every day and call every night. Time no longer separates them; once Shoyou becomes a starting member of MSBY their schedules are perfectly synched. They trade off who spends their weekends riding the Shinkansen home.
Then they meet again, at the finals for the D1 Volleyball League. On opposite sides of the court, Shoyou promises Tobio that he will win. He is finally home, and Tobio greets him with a smile.
☀︎ ☀︎ ☀︎
The volleyball season has finally ended, at the closing of spring. Tobio and Shoyou shake hands, the duo officially at the same level.
Shoyou is high off his first win in professional volleyball when he leaves the locker rooms to see Tobio waiting outside. He grasps Shoyous hand and tells Ushiwaka-san that they will meet up with their teammates later.
Tobio navigates through the streets with a heartfelt purpose that makes Shoyou chuckle. He doesn’t know if he will ever get used to Tobio’s sincerity. Tobio only clasps his hand tighter, crossing an intersection and entering a park.
They walk till they are right under a cherry blossom in full bloom. Tobio shoves both hands in his pocket, fidgety, but Shoyou is too happy to notice. He is twirling under the falling petals, trying to catch them in his open palm.
“1,096 wins and 1,100 losses!” Shoyou exclaims, finally realizing that Tobio has stopped in his tracks.
“1,096 wins and 1,101 losses,” Tobio corrects him, smirking as Shoyou splutters, affronted.
“Nuh-uh. I’ve been keeping track since high school.”
But Tobio just smiles in the face of Shoyou protests, and finally pulls his hand out of his pocket, a fist. There’s a box inside, one he directs Shoyou to open.
On dark velvet lays two matching rings, gold.
Shoyou hears the sea in his ears, the tide pulling back. Tobio tells him to think of them “as a promise” before sliding one ring onto his left hand. Absently, Shoyou slowly gains awareness of his cheeks aching, of his full-toothed grin, of the tears falling from his eyes.
They walk the rest of the way to the izakaya, where the rest of their teams are waiting. They are holding hands again, Shoyou’s right clasped within Tobio’s left. He can feel the cool metal against his ring finger.
Atsumu asks him why he’s so smiley, Tobio says he’s just being a dumbass, as usual. Shoyou doesn’t retort, too happy to grasp the conversation. His attention is caught by the sunset out the window, the sun meeting the sea at the horizon. Tobio slides into a booth behind him, their knees knock, and he is momentarily awed by what his life has become.
The rest of the night is spent with Tobio at his side always. Through the three shots Bokuto hands him, and Atsumu’s raucous laughter, and the stories tossed across the table. They laugh with everyone else, together but alone simultaneously. They are back in their little bubble, bumping elbows and trading quips with sidelong gazes. Kageyama laughs and he is the brightest thing in this dimly lit bar for at least a second. They haven’t let go of each others’ hands since entering, Shoyous eating with his left hand and wondering if it is humanely possible to be happier.
Tobio thinks that they both won today, just because he was able to present the rings first. But he doesn’t know about the diamonds Shoyou would glance at every time he walked down main street, or the conversations Shoyou has been having with the shopkeeper for the last two weeks. He doesn’t know about the nondescript paper bag in the back of Shoyou’s closet in Osaka.
But Shoyou knows. Just like Shoyou knows, he will be the ultimate winner, the same way he knows the sun sets in the west and that the sea is gentle. In the same way, he knows that Tobio will always stay by his side. He knows that he met Tobio because of volleyball, but he thinks that they will stay together long without it.
☀︎ ☀︎ ☀︎
2022 sees Hinata and Kageyama playing on the same side of the court, for the first time in years. The two Olympians have reunited, after their time in Brazil and Italy, now playing for Japan.
Number nine, Shoyou Kageyama jogs onto the court, waving at his family in the audience.
Number ten, Tobio Hinata, follows, his waves a little less enthusiastic but still present.
They meet, matching new sneakers tapping at the white line of the court. They grasp each other’s hand and promise to win.
And then they play, at home again.