aroceu's ficHitoka walks home, feeling more exhausted than she probably should. She hums to herself, watching as the countryside grows a little more suburban, more until buildings are looming shadows over her, although it doesn’t take much to do that considering her own height. Her backpack is slung low over her shoulders. Walking home is a peaceful balance between her new initiation into the volleyball club, and the stress that her mother shoves at her when she’s back at the apartment.
She doesn’t attend Karasuno for the distance—it takes her nearly an hour to go back and forth. And she’d gotten quite a few acceptance letters when applying for high schools. Her mother had told her to pick the one that has the best reputation, but her mother doesn’t know anything about any of the high school’s reputations.
In all honesty, Hitoka had spread all the acceptance letters on her desk, closed her eyes, and picked.
She exhales deeply as her surroundings get busier. Maybe her mother has made her dinner before letting her go with an evening alone. Maybe Hitoka will have to make dinner by herself. Either way, Hitoka is ready for it.
*
“Eeeeehhh? Kageyama, that was too far out! Sorry, Yachi, can you get that?”
Hitoka’s cheeks warm as Shoyo turns to her. “Sure!” she says, and runs to the out of bounds lines where the volleyball has fallen.
When she makes her way back, she sees that Tobio is yelling at Shoyo—though it doesn’t take much effort to notice that, with how loud they both can be.
“What are you yelling at me so much for? You make plenty of mistakes, too!”
“Yeah, you never fail to remind me, thanks, ‘Hinata you dumbass!’ ‘Hinata get better at receiving!’ I hear it all the frickin’ time—”
“I don’t sound like that!—thanks Yachi—you’re the one who’s loud no matter what, though, whether you’re insulting me or giving me compliments—”
“At least I give you compliments!”
“Uh,” says Hitoka, because it’s five minutes until the official practice starts and she’s sure they’ll be peeved when they realizing that they’re wasting precious time. “Guys?” But Shoyo and Tobio continue at each other, like they’ll beat each other up again. Every time they argue Hitoka’s afraid that will happen again.
She sighs to calm herself down.
“I’ll find Tanaka-san, then…” she mutters to herself, starting out of the gym.
*
Shimizu catches her during her lunch break, with the meal Hitoka had made for herself earlier this morning while her mother had been passed out in the living room. Hitoka stops when she sees Shimizu at first, and doesn’t really register what she’s saying until about half a minute later.
“…wanted to see if you would mind?” Shimizu’s asking, pulling her hair back.
Hitoka watches as she ties it into a ponytail, blinks. “Oh, um.”
“Tomorrow afternoon?”
“Sure,” Hitoka says, even though she doesn’t know what she’s agreeing to.
Shimizu smiles, and Hitoka actually blanches. She’s too pretty! Hitoka tries not to trip, not to stare; inside, something feels stupidly burning, even though it’s autumn and chilly outside.
“I’m looking forward to it,” says Shimizu. “Your mom’s a designer, she’ll have a lot of suggestions, won’t she? Ah, it’ll be great!”
“Oh! Yeah.” Hitoka’s mom? But she’ll like Shimizu if she meets her tomorrow.
“Text me your address, okay?”
Shimizu walks her over to where Hitoka’s started eating lunch with Shoyo and Tobio, and Shoyo asks eagerly, “Were you just having a private manager’s meeting?” He stands up, and Tobio yanks him back down.
Shimizu laughs lightly. “Yes,” she says. “We’re making a new banner for the Spring High Championship at Hitoka’s tomorrow.”
“Oh!”
Tobio and Shoyo look overwhelmed in flattery. Hitoka presses her lips together in excitement.
*
It alternates between who gets there first for practices: Hitoka’s asked Sugawara-san, who says it’s usually Shoyo; but Narita-san says that Tobio has a habit of never letting Shoyo get there before him. Tadashi jokes that he wouldn’t be surprised if one of them has slept over in the gym to make sure the other person doesn’t get there first the next day. Shimizu tells her she’s never going to get a straight answer.
Hitoka decides to go early and impress Shimizu and the rest of the team when they come in, setting up the gym all by herself. Unfortunately as she gets to school, she already hears volleyballs being spiked—who’d gotten here before her?
“Oh! Hitoka-chan!” Shoyo smiles brightly, despite the rising sun. “You’re here early, too.”
“Yeah, I wanted to…”
Everything’s set up already, and Shoyo beams.
“Want to practice volleyball with me?” he asks.
“I don’t know much about volleyball,” Hitoka apologizes, “or anything about playing it, I’ve never—”
“That’s okay! It doesn’t make a difference to me,” Shoyo says cheerfully. “I’ve practiced with Natsu before. And I can teach you, if you want.”
“Oh, s-sure!” Hitoka blushes; she hopes she’s not too terrible at it.
Shoyo tells her to serve to him. She places the ball on her hand and swings—the ball hits the net.
“Sorry!”
“It’s okay.” Shoyo chuckles. “My serves are pretty bad too. But you’ve seen them.” He grabs the ball, goes back over to his side.
They manage to keep the ball in the air for a few exchanges. Shoyo is impressed by Hitoka’s mediocre ability to receive, but Hitoka is always in awe whenever he spikes.
“Hey, Hitoka,” says Shoyo, when it’s been a bit—not close to being seven, though. “You could’ve gone to Shiratorizawa High, couldn’t you?”
“I guess,” says Hitoka, bouncing the volleyball back to him. She had been accepted there, and it had been one of the places she could’ve selected.
Shoyo laughs, stumbles. “Imagine that! You could be the manager for that volleyball team then. With Ushijima-san.” He shudders. “He’s taller than Kageyama and Tsukishima, it’s scary!”
“Wow!”
Hitoka hits the ball, but it’s too flat against her hand and falls soon. She bends over to pick it up. “They’re number one, aren’t they?” she says. “I don’t think I would want to manage for an intense team like that…”
“But we’re good, too! We want to be number one,” says Shoyo. “It’s just as intense. Do you like managing for us?”
Hitoka thinks of the excitement of Karasuno winning a match, of seeing Shoyo and Tobio’s freak quicks, of Shimizu brightening every time Hitoka joins her. Of Shoyo across the court right now, waiting for an answer with the volleyball balanced in his hands.
Hitoka smiles.
“Of course!”
*
“Go, Azumane-san!” Hitoka clenches her fists, brimming from the sidelines. They’ve done what Hitoka hears Shoyo refer to a lot as the pipe formation, with Azumane-san coming in from the back to spike with Tanaka-san or Shoyo as decoy.
Then Azumane falls flat on his face, with a loud noise that echoes throughout the whole gym.
Shoyo and Tobio shriek; Hitoka clutches her face. Immediately she sees Shimizu turn right to her, beckon her down.
Hitoka clambers down and tends to Azumane-san right away.
“Oh! My goodness,” she says, helping him up. His cheek has a large bruise blooming on it, and there’s probably something swelling on his forehead. His arm is also very muscular and he probably doesn’t need her to pick him up, but she’s more focused on him scratching his head, smiling sheepishly.
“I’m alright,” he’s saying.
Hitoka opens up her mouth, but Sawamura-san gets there first. “You’re not,” he says.
“N-No, I’m seriously—!”
“Get him out of here, Yachi,” Sawamura says, ignoring him.
Hitoka obeys, and with Ennoshita-san’s help, they get him at least into the locker room. Ennoshita keeps him company as Hitoka quickly gets the first aid kit, and then she’s pulling out rubbing alcohol and swabs, making sure Azumane’s not too injured.
“Minor injuries,” Azumane insists to Ennoshita, who’s fussing over him.
“There’s nothing minor about that bump on your forehead! Don’t be worse than Nishinoya.”
“I-I’m not worse than Nishinoya,” Azumane says, frowns. Hitoka rubs at where his forehead’s wrinkled. “He’s not that bad in the first place…”
“Even with kneepads, he gets bruised up quite a lot,” Hitoka comments.
The boys glance over at her, and she blushes. “Shimizu-san’s told me,” she says, and then thoughtfully, “or maybe he bruises himself up on purpose so she takes care of him…”
Azumane watches her for a moment, and then smiles. “You fit in with us easily, don’t you, Hitoka?” he says, throwing her off. “Like a mother.” He looks down to where she’s placing a bandage on his arm. “Thanks.”
Hitoka feels warm again, not the same as when Shimizu compliments her, or Shoyo asks for her to toss the ball for him and Tobio, but somewhere close.
“You’re welcome!”
*
Her mother is home this afternoon, leaning over the kitchen table, not quite noticing when Hitoka comes home. Walking back from school is refreshing. Hitoka takes off her shoes, says cheerfully, “Hi Mom!” because she doesn’t know if her mother might go out later tonight.
“Hm? Oh, hi honey.” Her mother lifts her head up. “How was school?”
Hitoka shrugs. She wonders if she should remind her mother there was volleyball practice this afternoon; she hadn’t noticed at first when Hitoka had started coming home later. Either that, or hadn’t mentioned it. “The same,” she says.
“Mm,” says her mother. “What’s for dinner?”
Hitoka’s chest flutters. So they will be eating together tonight. “Do you want me to make something?”
“No, I.” Her mother actually gets up. “I can make something for us. I can’t promise it’ll be good, though.”
Even with that, Hitoka brightens. “Okay!”
Her mother goes to the refrigerator, pantry, pulls out a varying amount of ingredients. Hitoka doesn’t pay attention to particularly what, watches all the same.
“So, Villager B, huh?” she says, jolting Hitoka out of her daze. “How’s that going for you?”
“Oh! It’s.” Hitoka struggles to find words.
Her mother turns around to her. “You seem happier, lately.”
Does she? But if even her mother’s noticed, then she must. Or they’ve both changed.
“Yeah,” Hitoka agrees, and something feels right about it, balancing between choice and chance, like maybe how Shoyo feels every time he spikes one of Tobio’s sets. Hitoka likes it. “I am.”