Rating:

Teen

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Haikyuu!!

Relationship:

Kageyama/Hinata

Tags:

childhood friends au, neighbors au

Stats:

Posted on:

2014-10-17

Words:

7,256

Tobio’s never talked to the kid across the street before.

He has bright orange hair, jumps around a lot, and has been playing some sort of game with himself outside for the past several days. It’s not like Tobio will admit it if his parents asked, but he’s been watching the kid since he’s noticed.

He’s lived here as long as he can remember (which, to be fair, eight years isn’t very long) while the kid across the street had moved in just a month ago. The orange-haired kid is tiny, or maybe Tobio’s just tall for his age, like grown-ups always say.

“What are you doing?”

The sound of his mother’s voice makes him jump. Her hand rests on her shoulder, and Tobio glances away.

“Nothing.”

She laughs.

“If you want to make friends, Tobio, you can go out if you want.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His mother leans down and Tobio can feel her looking at where he was just staring minutes before.

“You’ve been here by yourself for a while now,” she says. “Go on.”

Tobio doesn’t, today. But the next day when he sees the boy throw the ball up like he’s trying to get it through an imaginary basketball hoop, and hit himself in the face, Tobio decides to run over.

“Hi,” he says, before his nerves scare the both of them away. “I’m Kageyama Tobio, second year. I live across the street.” He points.

Orange-haired boy’s eyes are big, like a doe. Or a cat. Tobio can’t remember all the animals with big eyes right now.

“I’m Hinata Shoyo,” he says, “and I’m gonna be a.” He starts counting off on his fingers. “Third year? Wow! I’m older than you?”

Tobio huffs. “I’m going to be a third year too,” he says. “I just meant, since we’re on break right now, I’m technically a second year, so—”

“Oh! We’re the same, then.”

Shoyo’s smile is bright. Maybe Tobio stares too long.

“What are you playing?” he asks, gesturing to the ball in his hands.

Shoyo shrugs. “I dunno. I usually like watching sports on tv and then putting them all together and playing them.”

“Have you seen volleyball? Do you play volleyball?”

Tobio asks this all a little bit too quickly and too urgently and blushes, twisting his fingers.

If possible, Shoyo’s eyes get even wider. “No? What’s that?”

“It’s the best game in the world,” says Tobio.

Apparently this is funny, because Shoyo falls to the ground laughing.

*

As it turns out, when break’s over and school letters come in, they discover that Shoyo’s going to the same school as Tobio. Tobio’s a little surprised that he hadn’t asked earlier; he wouldn’t be so absentminded like this. Shoyo positively brightens after running across the way and telling Tobio and Tobio tells him that he’s attending that elementary school, too.

“Did you persuade him to join the volleyball team?” his mother teases while Shoyo is there, and Tobio feels his face warm in embarrassment.

“Mom.”

“He is obsessed,” his mother tells Shoyo, because this is the first time they’ve met.

“I know,” Shoyo chirps. And then, to Tobio, “What other sports clubs are there?”

“Tennis, baseball, basketball… But you should join the volleyball team with me! Who knows, you might be good.”

“No way. You would laugh at me.” Shoyo shakes his head. “Plus, you’re already taller than me! I’ll be so bad.”

“Everyone’s bad at volleyball,” says Tobio, which is kind of true. Most of the other kids on his team are worse than him.

Shoyo raises his eyebrows. “Including you?”

“Well…”

*

Regardless, they walk to school together, and then home together, braving the weather when it gets rainy in the fall, and then snowy in the winter.

Tobio’s mother makes them breakfast one morning, for the two of them, bundled up and sleepy-eyed. Shoyo yawns as she hands him a meat bun. Tobio says, “Thanks Mommy.”

“Walk safely,” she says, and then they’re out the door.

As they head towards school, Shoyo sighs. “Natsu woke me up this morning,” he says. “Having little siblings sucks. You’re so lucky, Tobio-chan.”

Shoyo calls him that on occasion, which is kind of weird and annoying but mostly because it makes Tobio blush. “Don’t call me that,” he mutters, and then, “I dunno. It’s kind of boring for me. If I had a little sister, I probably wouldn’t spend so much time with you.”

“Oh.”

Shoyo’s quiet for a moment. Then he says, “Never mind! Forget what I said before.”

It usually takes about fifteen minutes for them to walk to school, but maybe twenty through the heavy snow. Shoyo looks down at his meat bun, which is untouched. Tobio’s already done his.

“Hurry up and eat, it’s gonna get cold.”

“My hands are cold,” says Shoyo. Tobio realizes now that his hands are bare.

“Where’d your gloves go?”

“Forgot ’em.”

“Geez,” says Tobio, rolling his eyes, “you are hopeless. You could’ve eaten it before your hands got too cold, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Shoyo says, not sounding very sorry. His knuckles are bright red. He bites into his meat bun and then flinches. “Ow. The middle’s still hot.”

Tobio takes pity on him and grabs at one of his hands, absently, encases it in his mitten. “There,” he says. “Now you’ll lose only one hand on your way to school and no one can blame me for it.”

“Wow,” says Shoyo, staring at their hands. “I wish I remembered my gloves.”

Tobio tsks. “Finish your breakfast!”

*

And then in the spring when it’s too warm for gloves and Shoyo’s parents are the ones who offer to make them breakfast in the morning, they walk to school together, and Shoyo takes Tobio’s hand.

Tobio doesn’t say anything because he’s gotten used to it by now, and Shoyo swings their hands together, delightedly. When Shoyo laughs, he throws his head back, orange hair illuminated by the morning sun. Sometimes still it makes Tobio forget how to breathe.

*

(This is when it hits him for the first time, like finally taking flight, spreading your wings and soaring and feeling invincible.

“Karasuno’s Little Giant!” the tv announcer blares, and Shoyo’s whole world feels turned upside down.

The thing is, volleyball is Tobio’s thing and that doesn’t mean it can’t be Shoyo’s thing either. But Tobio’s been playing so much longer, is so dedicated and serious that it scares Shoyo, a little. Now he understands why, but. But this has so little to do with Tobio and so much about how, Shoyo feels, deep inside himself, he has to do this without him. For now.)

*

By the time they’re in year six, Shoyo’s been riding his bike to school, alongside Tobio. They’ve turned peaceful walks into daily races, mostly because Shoyo’s too in love with his bike to get off and Tobio refuses to let him get to school before him when they’ve been walking together for the past few years. Plus, it puts him in even better shape for volleyball afterwards.

Shoyo bikes home late one day, with stars in his eyes. Tobio’s practice had been canceled because their coach is apparently friends with the coach of the legendary Karasuno High School, who has a game today. Tobio is tossing his volleyball in his backyard.

“Where’ve you been?” he says as Shoyo stops in front of his house.

Shoyo hesitates. This is new. “Got distracted on my way home,” he says. “No volleyball today?”

“Nah.”

Tobio throws the ball over to him. Normally Shoyo would’ve ducked out of the way, yelled at him for nearly hitting him in the face, and then they would both run inside to Tobio’s house for a snack made by his dad.

Instead, Shoyo catches the ball and stares at it.

Tobio’s eyes narrow.

“What’s gotten into you?”

He almost snatches the ball out of Shoyo’s hands, until he notices the way he’s looking at it. Like Shoyo’s contemplating it.

This had never happened before.

Shoyo snaps out of his daze again. “Nothing, nothing,” he says, looking up at Tobio.

He’s grown, but Tobio’s grown more, stands almost a head taller than him. Tobio ruffles his hair, a guaranteed way to distract Shoyo, and then grabs his volleyball back.

“C’mon, let’s go inside,” he says. “To eat.”

Shoyo nods, still somewhat in a daze.

*

(Afterwards Shoyo finds other sixth years, talks and practices with the other kids on the volleyball team, make them swear to him that they won’t tell Tobio. Sometimes he does favors for them in exchange for secrecy, but Shoyo’s kind of embarrassed and already knows how talented Tobio is. He can’t face him now. Not like this. Tobio always talks about how much he practices by himself, anyway. Maybe he prefers it that way.)

*

So for the rest of the year—their last year in elementary school—Shoyo starts behaving strangely. Not in a way that’s extremely worrisome, and it’s not like Tobio’s jealous when he sees Shoyo making new friends he’s never seen before, not in his backyard as much as he used to be. Tobio still has volleyball practice every day and Shoyo gets back even later after him, but they still play together after that. They don’t stop going to each other’s houses, and Natsu makes Tobio a colorful beaded bracelet, too.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe Tobio doesn’t have to worry about it.

*

For middle school, Tobio applies to and is accepted at Kitagawa Daiichi. Shoyo congratulates him enthusiastically.

“That volleyball powerhouse! Achieving your dreams!”

“Yeah.” Tobio can’t push back a grin, staring at his diploma. “How about you?”

They’re in Shoyo’s kitchen, and it’s the year break again. Shoyo says, “I’m going to Yukigaoka. They don’t have a volleyball club.”

“Oh?” That had been unexpected.

Shoyo rushes to say, “Not like it matters! For me. Or for you. Either way.”

Tobio furrows his eyebrows. “Alright,” he says, because Shoyo would be correct in that. Tobio, after all, is the only one of them who cares about volleyball.

Natsu comes in, as Tobio and Shoyo continue absently eating crackers, shoves a drawing at them. Shoyo takes it and Tobio leans over.

Natsu chirrups, “This is for Tobio-chan!”

“Sentimental, I guess, since we won’t be seeing each other as often,” Tobio comments, taking the drawing. It’s stick figures with clothing, of a tall dark haired figure and a short orange haired figure. Tobio suddenly feels full of affection for Natsu.

He puts the drawing back down on the table and picks her up. She squeals, and Tobio bounces her, because Shoyo and his parents do it to her all the time.

Shoyo giggles from the table. “You’re like a dad, Tobio-chan.”

“Higher!” Natsu encourages, and Tobio brings her up higher. Natsu positively shrieks, and Shoyo giggles from his chair.

When Tobio puts her back down, Natsu says to him, “Don’t leave onii-chan, okay?”

Tobio doesn’t know what this means, but Natsu’s eyes are big and sincere. “Okay,” he says, meaning it too.

*

The holidays are okay, though Shoyo seems more adamant than before about not practicing volleyball with Tobio when he asks. He doesn’t call it a boring sport anymore; he just rolls his eyes and scoffs, making Tobio feel like he’s missing something.

Then when they get to middle school, homework swamps them both that Tobio ends up even running thin on time to practice volleyball outside of club meetings because of so many more obligations. Plus his parents throw even more chores at him now that he’s bigger and older, that sometimes he has to watch from his window again as Shoyo and Natsu play in their front lawn.

They hang out on the weekends, sometimes, but it soon turns to rarely, and then it’s been weeks since they’ve made time with each other on their own. Tobio thinks about volleyball so much that sometimes he forgets Shoyo exists. One of his senpais is the best setter in the prefecture, and Tobio can literally feel his skills get more polished. He thinks a lot about honing his genius abilities to the maximum, and little about much else.

*

(“Where’s Tobio-chan been?”

“I don’t know, Natsu,” says Shoyo from his homework.

“He hasn’t been around in a while.” Natsu puts down her toy and pouts. “He promised that he wouldn’t leave.”

“Sometimes promises break,” Shoyo tells her. “People have their own lives too.” Even though Tobio lives right across the street. But it’s not like this is only his fault, because Shoyo only thinks about him while he practices volleyball, rarely, and if he’s as good as he used to boast.

Otherwise it’s just a house across the street that Shoyo has forgotten what the inside looks like.

“But you guys are friends,” says Natsu. “Why’d you have to stop?”

Shoyo shrugs, doesn’t meet his sister’s eyes. “Sometimes friends stop talking.”)

*

Then it’s been over a year since they last saw each other, Tobio’s a third year in middle school and the best player he knows, and it’s the first tournament of the season.

They’re going up against Yukigaoka Junior High. Tobio wonders why the name sounds familiar.

As he walks by the bathroom, he hears a couple of second years arguing. And a very familiar voice.

Shoyo’s crouched near the boys’ bathroom, arms wrapped around his stomach, in a green volleyball uniform. From here, Tobio can see the captain’s mark on his jersey.

Both of them freeze at the sight of each other.

The second years haven’t seemed to have noticed Tobio, so he snarls at them, “Get out of here.” As they scurry away, he and Shoyo continue staring at each other.

Tobio speaks first.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What?” says Shoyo, and he hasn’t grown much, or maybe they’ve grown the same amount.

“You play volleyball,” says Tobio. “You’re the captain of the—We’re right about to play you.”

“Yeah? So?”

“I don’t understand,” says Tobio, and it’s all he can manage to think now. Shoyo had seemed so far away for the past few years, gone, like a dream. Now he’s here and glaring and also a little green in the face.

“I,” says Shoyo. “I was inspired.”

“By?” Tobio raises an eyebrow. For some reason, he expects Shoyo to say you.

“Someone,” says Shoyo.

The answer is vague, and annoying, and Tobio can’t take it anymore. He marches up to Shoyo and stares him down.

“You know I’ve been serious about volleyball forever,” he says. “It’s not just something to waste your time with, make memories, do things just because you want to. You have to be serious about it, to want to win—”

“I am,” Shoyo fires back. “I do. I do want to win.”

“So you could’ve played with me,” says Tobio. “You could’ve practiced with me. All this time—”

“It’s none of your business if I wanted to play with you or not,” says Shoyo. “And even though you’ve been playing longer than me, that doesn’t mean me and my team can’t win! I’ve practiced a lot. We’ve practiced a lot. I’ll show you how good we are!”

“Yeah, right,” Tobio scoffs. “You’re too short to be good. I’ll win.”

Shoyo’s ears turn red, and he straightens up. Tobio backs up instinctively.

“I can jump,” he says. “And we will win.”

“We’ll see.”

Tobio stomps away.

*

Kitagawa Daiichi wins by a landslide, but it doesn’t feel like it. Tobio remembers the way Shoyo had zoomed across the court, hit that ball, even though it had been out… But he was right. He can jump. He is talented, and fast, and has a ridiculous amount of natural abilities.

“What have you been doing for the past three years?” he demands to Shoyo, and Shoyo just turns away, face burning.

And then afterward, Shoyo runs up and shouts, “One day, I’ll beat you!” to him, Tobio, his boyhood best friend. Tobio glowers. Shoyo’s eyes are shining with tears.

It’s funny, because the time has never felt like very long, but the back of Tobio’s mind lurks with the things he still knows about Shoyo and had never bothered to dig back out until now. Like the way he gets when his mother makes them tamago gohan, or how possessive he gets over his toys whenever Tobio used to go over to play. The feel of Shoyo’s hand in the winter, and in the spring. Going to the beach with their families, but mostly playing with sand castles because Tobio doesn’t trust the water.

Tobio sees it spilling out, but he also sees this part of Shoyo he’s never known: perhaps the part of Shoyo he’s always wanted to know.

At night, Tobio refuses to call it jealousy. In the morning, he comes to terms with the fact that yeah, he’s jealous of Shoyo, and also furious that he had never practiced with him in the several years they’ve known each other.

He peeks out his window during breakfast, because Shoyo is right there.

His mother glances at him worriedly.

“It’s been a while,” she says.

Tobio replies quietly, “He was at the match yesterday.”

“Oh?”

“He was captain,” he says. “For the first team that we played against.”

“But you won, didn’t you?”

“We didn’t—” Tobio starts, stops. “He didn’t—”

Shoyo’s not a stranger, but Tobio feels strange knowing him.

*

He gets rejected from Shiratorizawa Academy for high school, so it’s lucky that he’d applied to Karasuno High as well. It had been great once.

And Tobio feels like he should recognize that name, too.

It strikes him when he’s practicing by himself in the gym on the first day, and the doors burst open, and Tobio turns around.

Shoyo is bright with the daylight streaming in behind him.

Tobio’s ball hits him in the head.

“What are you doing here?” Shoyo demands.

“I,” says Tobio. “What?”

“Shouldn’t you be at some sort of volleyball powerhouse high school or something?” Shoyo’s already thrown his bag down, like he’s ready to fight.

Tobio’s glare hardens. Shoyo falters.

Tobio goes back to practicing by himself. Shoyo says, “Hey. Aren’t you going to talk to me?”

“After you didn’t tell me for years that you suddenly developed an interest in volleyball? No.”

“But you just…”

Tobio hears other footsteps as Shoyo trails off. He sighs, turns to him as three students in black jackets walk in.

“Whatever,” he says. “I’m over it. We’re teammates now. Or whatever,” he adds under his breath. “There’s nothing I can do to help with that, unless you quit.”

“No way!” says Shoyo. “I wanna be a part of the team, too! Like I told you last year, I’ll beat you! Somehow like this.”

“You can’t do that if we’re on the same team.”

“Then.” Shoyo struggles to piece everything together. “It doesn’t matter! I can play alongside you, but not with you.”

“Fine.”

“Do you two know each other?”

Both of them jolt, turn around. They bow, and one of the kids—one with a shaved head and an attempted intimidating expression on his face—says, “Didn’t we see them play at the middle school match last year?”

“You’re right, Tanaka,” says the third, with light hair and a cheerful smile.

“You’re tall,” Tanaka says to Tobio. “How tall are you?”

“180cm.”

“Wow! No wonder you guys beat this shorty’s team.”

“Hey!” says Shoyo, and they all look at him. He blushes suddenly and snaps his mouth shut.

Tobio sneers. “That’s right,” he says. “We beat Hinata’s team at prefecturals last year. We also used to go to the same elementary school.”

The one who’d initially interrupted them whistles. “So you’ve known each other for a while then.”

“We’ve lived across the street from each other for seven years,” Shoyo puts in.

Tobio glares at him. Shoyo glares right back.

“Childhood friends then—” the light haired one starts, but Tobio starts toward Shoyo.

“A good portion you could’ve told me you wanted to play volleyball.”

“Why are you so hung up on it?” asks Shoyo. “It’s in the past. I’m sorry if it offended you. Geez.”

Tobio’s insides are burning, and he gets even closer. “What made you want to play in the first place?” he asks. “You weren’t even that good last year. You were terrible. You were shit. Bastard.”

“That’s too many insults,” says Shoyo. “And I practice, you know. In fact, I’ve gotten better!”

“Guys, guys,” says the first guy. He has a captain label on his jacket. “Maybe you should—”

“Yeah, right,” says Tobio.

“I have!” Shoyo insists. “I’m serious. I challenge you to a game right now.”

“We can’t do a one-on-one!”

“Then I’ll receive your serves! I couldn’t receive any of them from last year…”

Except for the one where he’d caught it with his face. Shoyo seems to have remembered that one as well, because his cheeks turn a little pink.

“Guys,” says their captain.

*

Then they accidentally knock their vice principal’s wig off, then the three students, after introducing themselves, kick them out of the gym, and it takes all afternoon for Tobio and Shoyo to figure out what to do, before they request a two-on-two match and accept the offer for a three-on-three.

Tobio goes home sulky and annoyed with the world.

When he gets back, he goes to his room and opens his drawer, hoping his memory hasn’t failed him this time. Lying at the bottom is a single paper, a doodle. Tobio pulls it out and stares at it.

“How was school?” his father asks him at dinner. “How was volleyball?”

“Fine,” says Tobio. Then, “Hinata’s on the team, too.”

“Who? Shoyo, from across the street?”

Tobio picks at his food. “Yeah.”

“Isn’t that nice! You can reconnect and walk home from school together.”

“I guess,” Tobio mutters.

*

(It’s surprisingly easy for them to work together and talk like normal again, despite the slight rift. Shoyo watches hesitantly as Tobio silently passes the ball back and forth, occasionally critiquing his lack of skill. After asking him to set for him once, Shoyo hasn’t asked again, mostly because he knows how stubborn Tobio is.

Sugawara-san offers to help him, too, but Shoyo denies, tells him that they have a lot of time after school since they live so close together. As he walks back from talking with Sugawara, he bumps into Tobio at the vending machine, nearly stumbles over.

Tobio catches his arm before he falls, plops him back straight before Shoyo can properly react. “What are you doing?” he asks, eyes narrowed.

“Nothing. Going to lunch,” Shoyo says. Then, “See you after school?”

Tobio pauses.

“Yeah.”)

*

Living near each other does mean that it’s easier for them to practice for the upcoming three-on-three, though they don’t really talk all that much. Shoyo’s receives are shoddy but at least he gets the hang of Tobio’s passes. It’s a start.

The first time Tobio sets to him, during one of their last one-on-one practices, Shoyo spikes it, despite the fervor and sweat pouring down his face. He looks delighted right before he throws up on the gym floor, but it’s going somewhere. Something lifts inside Tobio, anyway.

And then during the match he discovers things aren’t too terrible, especially when he’s enthused about hitting Tobio’s ridiculous sets, when they do the freak spike for the first time. Shoyo looks like he might run up to Tobio and hug him like that time in elementary school when Tobio had come back from vacation one summer. He doesn’t; they don’t even high-five, though Shoyo does with Tanaka-san. The thrill thrums in his veins anyway. Tobio didn’t think he and Shoyo could be something like this.

*

“Who trusts someone one hundred percent?” he says during the first years match.

“As long as I’m here, you’re invincible,” he tells Shoyo during the neighborhood practice match.

Shoyo blinks, stares; there’s a weight of trust that hadn’t been there before, not like the childhood freeness they had when they were playing with Shoyo’s plastic toy balls when they were younger. Tobio doesn’t know when he had changed through middle school, but he can see it in Shoyo, to become that little giant.

A part of Tobio maybe wishes he were the one to inspire Shoyo in the first place. But, to be fair, Tobio hasn’t reached the ranks where he’s emblazoned on television screens yet.

The team starts referring to them as pair, and everyone starts asking Tobio how Shoyo feels, what he’s thinking. Not like Tobio knows.

One day after practice, heading home with the others, Shoyo walking his bike instead of riding it, they linger in the back.

Shoyo asks, “Are you still mad at me?”

Tobio hesitates. “No,” he says, after a second. “It’s been too long to. We’re different.”

“Yeah.”

Shoyo is quiet, munching absently at his meat bun. Tobio has a weird flashback to when they’d been walking to elementary school, that winter, and mentally shakes his head.

“I could’ve practiced with you.” Shoyo’s speaking again. “I would probably better, actually.”

“Yeah, but,” says Tobio, and for some reason a part of him is thinking, no. Does he not mind their fall out? “This is the way things are,” he says. “We wouldn’t be this way if you had.”

“We could be better.”

Shoyo’s staring at his dinner. Tobio asks him, “Are you saying that I’m right? Are you sorry?”

“No,” says Shoyo, but when he glances up at Tobio, he must detect something; his face breaks into a smile. “We’re rivals.”

“You better not be fighting again!” shouts Sugawara from in front of them. “You’re on the same team now!”

“We are,” Tobio agrees.

*

(They practice their combos on the weekends, Natsu watching from the front porch, poring over her homework. On early Sunday mornings they stand on opposite sides of the street, passing to each other. Eventually Tobio’s parents buy and set up a volleyball net in their backyard.

“This makes things easier,” says Shoyo, even though it doesn’t smell like air salonpas. He attempts to bounce the ball on his thighs, but hits it once and then it falls to the ground. Tobio picks it up.

“It’s better in the gym. But yeah, it’s better than nothing.”

Shoyo watches as Tobio sets, serves for him to receive, receives Shoyo’s serves. His backyard is flat, mostly clear, sunlight streaming through few clouds, Tobio’s dark hair glinting in the sun. Maybe Shoyo can see an illusive crown. He grins. King of the Court.

“You know, I take back what I said to you the other day,” he says. “If I’d practiced with you, you would’ve been a complete dictator to me.”

Tobio’s serve falters a bit, and he glowers from the other side of the net. “Hey!”

“Turnip head-kun and I were talking about you before the Seijou practice match,” Shoyo continues. “We both agreed that you were obnoxious.”

Tobio frowns. Maybe Shoyo’s offended him. He’s only teasing.

“We disagreed on your sets, though,” says Shoyo. “He said they were horrible. I said they were amazing.”

He serves to Tobio, but Tobio catches it, staring at Shoyo kind of blankly. Shoyo waves his hands.

“Kageyama-kun?”

Tobio blinks. “Tobio,” he says, almost immediately, and then his cheeks turn red, like he hadn’t expected himself to say that.

Shoyo grins. “Tobio-chan.”

“Sho-kun,” Tobio mimics in a high voice, like Shoyo’s teammates from middle school, and serves the ball back over to him. Shoyo retorts with a spike, trying to aim as best he can back at Tobio. He sort of misses, hits him at the shoulder, and Tobio stumbles back.

“Ha!”

“Should I let you serve into the back of my head again?” Tobio asks, bending down to pick up the ball.

“You don’t call me Sho-kun!”

“I could start.”)

*

They make it through training camp, which is surprisingly bearable. Tobio kind of likes this, that everyone depends on him and Shoyo, that Shoyo depends on him for their strike to be perfect. He doesn’t want to say it makes up for how his junior high teammates treated him, but at least he’s realized how talented Shoyo is.

And there’s that Shoyo trusts him a hundred percent. It makes Tobio feel uneasy at times, but mostly because of the slight doubt. He’d shouted, “I’M HERE!” the first time, but there’d also been those years during middle school, when he’d been there, across the street. But not.

He glances at Shoyo, who’s humming to himself, walking his bike along. It’s the one he’s had for years, and inspiration strikes Tobio. He grins, suddenly.

“Race you.”

Shoyo whips his head around at him.

“Running?”

“On your bike,” says Tobio, points. “Like we used to.”

Shoyo raises his eyebrows. “I’ve gotten better at biking.”

“And I’ve gotten better at running.”

Tobio stops, stretches his legs. He feels Shoyo’s eyes linger on him, and then Shoyo’s joining him, smirking.

“You know I’m going to beat you,” he says, “right?”

“We’ll see about that,” says Tobio.

Karasuno’s always been in walking distance of their houses, so Tobio doesn’t necessarily need to reserve his energy. When they start—wordlessly, without warning—he sprints, watches as Shoyo takes the lead, pedaling as fast as he can, and then eventually slowing down, legs obviously wearing him out. Tobio catches up to him in no time, and then Shoyo pedals a little faster.

“I thought you’ve gotten better at biking,” Tobio pants alongside him.

“You shouldn’t talk and waste your energy!”

“Neither should you!”

In the end, Shoyo wins, although Tobio says and will always say that it’s because it’d been the first time in a long time and he’d gone easy on him. Shoyo sticks out his tongue and fondness swoops in Tobio’s stomach. He almost has the urge to invite him in for dinner.

But that’s a silly thought, because they’ve already eaten.

*

They don’t win against Nekoma, but it’s inspiration enough for them to keep practicing. When Inter Highs start, they defeat the first two teams but lose to Aoba Jousai. It’s a punt in the stomach.

Tobio says, “Sorry, they totally read my last set,” to Shoyo, and Shoyo actually punches him in the face.

The next day Tobio says, “I won’t do sets that I’ll have to apologize for,” and there’s a glimmer of faith, there, in Shoyo’s eyes.

So maybe Shoyo doesn’t depend on him, or at least, not with the type of weight Tobio had always thought. He grins at Shoyo as they walk back inside for team practice, something that feels like he hasn’t shown Shoyo in a long time. Or maybe it’s new, built up from the years of not talking and then talking again.

*

Exams come and go, with an embarrassing amount of struggle. Luckily for Tobio and Shoyo, they study terribly together, and Natsu comes into Shoyo’s room at one in the morning complaining about them shouting too much at each other and that they should go to sleep.

“We’re going to fail tomorrow.” Tobio’s accepted this fate, along with that he might as well spend the night at Shoyo’s house.

“We are not! We’re going to do great.”

“Tsukishima’s barely helped.” Tobio sighs and settles under his blanket, stretching his legs all over the longer couch. Shoyo had complained about sleeping across the chair, head on one armrest and legs curled over the other. But it’s only fair.

“Yeah, but Hitoka-chan’s notes helped a lot!” Shoyo punches his arm. Tobio bats his hand away.

“Either way, we’re going to Tokyo for training,” he says, staring determinedly at the ceiling.

“No matter what,” Shoyo agrees.

*

In the end, he and Shoyo do respectively fail one class each. Their teammates yet again vocalize their surprise at Tobio’s lack of academic discipline.

Shoyo says, “You should’ve seen him in elementary school, he practically copied off my notes all the time—”

Tobio shuts him up by ruffling his hair very hard. Shoyo squawks and tries to hit him away.

Daichi says, “You were a better student when you were younger, Hinata?”

Shoyo shakes his head. “Not really. But I didn’t fall asleep all the time, like this guy.”

“I didn’t fall asleep all the time,” Tobio mumbles.

*

They get to Tokyo eventually, together, and with Tanaka’s sister driving them, unlike when that time when they’d wandered around Shiratorizawa, they don’t get lost.

Training camp goes well, for the most part, despite the massive amount of their team’s losses. On the bright side, Tobio feels like he could be a libero now with all the flying falls they’ve been doing. Not a monster like Nishinoya, but getting there.

Shoyo thrives. Tobio watches as he does, spiking, receiving, showing him a side he hasn’t seen yet again. His serves improve only slowly. It’s crossed Tobio’s mind a few times to offer to help, but perhaps that’s something Shoyo wants to do on his own, too.

Then he’s saying, “I’m going to stop closing my eyes,” and Tobio says, “I’m not going to toss to someone I know will miss.”

“I want to fight on my own in the air,” Shoyo declares later, when Sugawara pulls them aside, like nothing’s changed between them since they were fourteen and on opposite sides of the court.

Tobio bites back, “There’s no need for you to think on your own in that quick strike.”

And at the end of the week, Shoyo corners him, shouts about his selfish desires to improve, and physically clings to him, yelling, “Kageyama!”

It’s the frustration that causes Tobio to throw Shoyo off him, to have Shoyo shove him back down, punching him in the face, like this is the kind of energy he wants to spike on his own. Like he can do it on his own.

They’re not supposed to, Tobio’s learned over the past few months. He doesn’t set for just himself, shouldn’t play for just himself. So why does Shoyo feel like he has to spike on his own?

*

They walk home, side by side, but not together.

*

(Shoyo’s father says, “You haven’t been at Tobio-kun’s all week.”

“Mm.”

“You both still see each other at school?”

“Mm.”

“Volleyball club?”

“Mm.”

“Walk home together?”

Shoyo’s pen hovers above his homework.

Natsu pipes up, “If you and Tobio-chan are fighting, you should go over and talk about it! He lives right there, you know.”

“It’s okay, Natsu,” Shoyo lies.

Natsu sees right through it, pouts. “It’s not.”)

*

Tobio goes to Oikawa for advice, to the reluctance of the both of them. He figures it’s fair when Oikawa tells him he has to adjust to Shoyo, too, and Tobio figures out the only way he can do this is if he learns how to drop set. So that he depends on Shoyo, too.

He practices in the gym during lunch periods and free periods, because his backyard makes him think of Shoyo too much. Their fight runs through his mind, burning the blood through his body; then he feels embarrassed, because Shoyo’s point hadn’t been invalid in the first place. Not at all.

Tobio has water bottles lined up, and misses the one he’d been aiming for. He accidentally hits a couple too far. Shoyo’s not the only one who fucks up.

Tobio groans and slumps on the floor. Shoyo better get better, like he’d promised.

*

(Ukai-san introduces Shoyo to his grandfather, who teaches him about first and second and third tempos with the little kids he teaches. Shoyo watches as they play, realizing how tiny they are. They remind him of him and Tobio when they were younger, even though Shoyo had never played volleyball with him then. Would they have been like this? Would his natural ability be better if he’d played with Tobio?

Would he be able to fly on his own now if he’d told Tobio sooner? Shoyo bites down at his bottom lip, tries not to regret too much.)

*

Summer training resumes, the Karasuno team winning not many more sets than they had before. Tobio throws his standard tosses, Shoyo hits them sort of like how he used to. Sometimes they miss. They apologize without looking at each other.

They don’t always walk home together, now, because sometimes Tobio stays afterward to continue on his own, and sometimes Shoyo disappears for hours on end.

*

Then Tobio sees him walking back with his bike one day, and it’s too much. He runs out his front door, sprints across the street, assails Shoyo before he can even get to his garage.

“Shoyo!” he says, and Shoyo halts.

He glows under the sun. Tobio blinks.

“What?” Shoyo says, and the moment’s gone.

His tone sounds harsher than he looks, and Tobio realizes he’s not looking into a mirror, an image of what he used to be that he was afraid Shoyo might become. Obsessive, too wrapped up in volleyball goals to even think of the boy across the street.

He’s been practicing to hit different kinds of sets, Tobio knows. But that doesn’t mean those sets can’t come from him.

“You’re a dumbass,” Tobio says, and when Shoyo opens his mouth, he continues, “But I am too.”

Shoyo’s mouth is still open. Tobio hastens to add, “Sorry.”

He steps forward, takes Shoyo’s cheek in his palm, and because it feels natural, places his lips on Shoyo’s. It burns, rapidly, like a wildfire streaming through Tobio’s chest. He’s not sure if it’s better than volleyball, the continuous waves of being on the court, of holding the ball in his hand. The heat that comes whenever he serves, receives, sets is bigger now, stretching over the both of them.

Shoyo doesn’t respond, but when Tobio pulls back, he sees that Shoyo’s eyes are closed, mouth still half open, as if expecting more.

Shoyo opens his eyes. Red blooms across his cheeks.

“What’d you do that for?”

Tobio shrugs.

“Because I wanted to.”

“Okay.” Shoyo nods like this is actually an acceptable answer. A second later and he says, “I like you, Tobio.”

“Oh.” Tobio can feel the heat on his own face. “Right. Yeah. Me too.”

“Were you planning on confessing since we were fighting?”

“I.” It hadn’t crossed Tobio’s mind. “Sure?”

Shoyo grins. “You didn’t think about it, did you?”

The rush to want to kiss Shoyo, for touch, for—anything, has felt as natural as anything else. Like their freak quick spikes, which they’re working so logically to perfect.

Tobio shrugs.

“I already knew for myself,” says Shoyo. His grin gets wider. “You’re not a genius at everything. I’m better than you at feelings!”

“Oh my god,” says Tobio, “don’t tell me you’re going to hold this over me—”

*

They end up shutting each other up with another kiss, that turns into a weird vicious make out session in the garage until Natsu’s voice shouts, “Mo-om, Tobio-chan’s trying to eat onii-chan’s face!” They both fall over in surprise, Shoyo on top of his bike, Tobio on top of Shoyo.

When they get to school the next day, Tobio kisses Shoyo goodbye before Shoyo goes off to park his bike.

Daichi and Azumane give Tanaka and Nishinoya two thousand yen each. Sugawara and Ennoshita lecture them on the dangers of gambling.

*

The rest of summer is fun, actually; even when training camp ends, even after they perfect their quick attack, Tobio and Shoyo practice plenty in Tobio’s backyard. With the rekindling of their friendship and the kindling of a relationship that had been, as Kenma put it when Shoyo had texted him (and then told Tobio), “inevitable,” practice is less tense and Hitoka doesn’t look as stressed.

Their families are all the more delighted to spend time together, not terribly minding the new developments. Their parents apologize to each other for their own son’s stubbornness, and Tobio vows to get out of there as soon as he can while Shoyo whines, “Mom.”

But mini-barbecues together mean more food for the both of them, and Shoyo loves Tobio’s dad’s cooking. Tobio takes out Natsu’s drawing from ages ago and tacks it on his bulletin board.

Their parents chatter from the back porch. Shoyo and Tobio practice volleyball in the yard, but midway through, Natsu clings to Tobio’s legs.

“Does this run in the family?” Tobio grumbles.

Natsu shouts joyfully, “You’re so tall, Tobio-chan, pick me up!”

“Yeah, Tobio-chan,” Shoyo teases, as Tobio lifts up his sister.

“You’ve definitely gotten heavier.”

Natsu pets her belly proudly. “I eat a lot!”

Tobio tosses her in the air a few times. Natsu giggles, and Shoyo does too.

“It’s like she’s a volleyball,” he says.

“I am not a volleyball!”

Tobio’s father calls out, “Do you guys ever think about anything else?”

Shoyo’s still watching intently as Tobio sets his sister down. Tobio throws him a look.

“Want me to pick you up, too?”

“No! No,” Shoyo hurries to say, his face flushing. “You couldn’t pick me up anyway. I mean, maybe, but I don’t—”

“Is that a challenge?” Tobio approaches him.

Shoyo squeaks and runs away, and Tobio begins chasing him. He ducks under the net as Shoyo laughs and runs away. They end up sprawled on the grass, a little way from Tobio’s house, and Tobio sits on top of him, straddles his hips, grinning triumphantly.

“I win,” he says. “That’s seventy for me, sixty-eight for you.”

“Sixty-nine,” Shoyo says. “I said I liked you first.”

So Tobio kisses him, again, because Shoyo’s hair is spread out on the grass, and he’s glowing in screaming color underneath the afternoon sun. They stop when they hear Natsu yell, “Ew!” and the sound of their parents’ laughter.

*

When school starts again, they train for the Spring High. They beat Aoba Jousai this time, make it to nationals this time, and make it to the top four, a murder of dark quick wings in the sky.

Daichi calls the first years all miracles, Sugawara hugs Tobio and Shoyo so tight that Tobio can barely breathe, and Tanaka actually cries. Nishinoya cries with him, drags Azumane and the other second years while Sugawara gets Tsukishima and Yamaguchi into a big group hug.

That night, Tobio and Shoyo sleepover in celebration, play video games until they pass out, Shoyo’s head on Tobio’s lap. When they wake up in the morning, Shoyo says, “We’re amazing.”

“We are,” Tobio agrees, absentmindedly tangles his fingers into Shoyo’s hair.

Shoyo rolls over so he can look Tobio in the eye.

“But not the best. Not yet.”

Tobio grins.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They’re third years and co-captains of the volleyball team and have made it past the top two in nationals, about to play their final game tomorrow. Tobio is already legendary; but Shoyo is even more, now.

They share a hotel room in Tokyo, no longer the absent kisses and anxious conversations like from first year. Now, now Shoyo’s mouth is grinning, hot, fingers snaking up Tobio’s jersey, not even bothering for a shower. Tobio pushes him down on the bed, trails his lips down Shoyo’s neck, twines his hand with Shoyo’s spiking hand.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he says against Shoyo’s skin, and Shoyo gets even hotter, like a radiating sun. He beams down at Tobio.

“You’re the best thing to me, too.”