Chapter Text
"There is no way I can play that." Tsukishima Kei had protested, many suns and many moons ago. Standing in the middle of the Yamaguchi family's business place, he looked like a creature from another world, like a giant who decided to venture into the human world to analyze the primitive artifacts with which they emitted melodies for fun. His long, pale fingers shifted the ukulele they held awkwardly, trying to find the right position. Wrapped within a purple sweatshirt with a star on it, proudly demonstrating his affinity for the astral, the highest place of our mortal understanding, he sported a deeply furrowed brow as his newest friend, a human boy with avid brown eyes and a wide, awkward smile, encouraged him to continue with his extraordinary list of infinite possible talents.
"Of course, you can! It only has four strings, it's super simple." he replied, permanently enthusiastic, taking the liberty of taking his fingers between his own and adjusting them to his will "Look, try it again. Just hold it like this and..."
"Thank you, my inspiring muse." the owner of the store intervened from the back, sitting on the usual piano bench, a cup of steaming herbal tea in his hands recently brought by his wife.
"Don't start in front of the kids, come on." replied the human whirlwind who had decided to marry the patriarch of the family so many years ago. With a lopsided smile that managed to be affable and scathing at the same time, she snapped her fingers in haste. "Hurry, salmon onigiri and vegetable soup is waiting for us at home."
"Excellent! I love the fried onigiri you make..." the other muttered, more to himself than to his interlocutor, delighting in anticipation of the future lunch. The preteens, for their part, presented other types of concerns beyond culinary ones. Yamaguchi, obsessed with introducing the coolest person he had ever met into his world of symphonies, bands, and sounds that they could create with the infinity of tools present in the store. Tsukishima, quiet but constantly aware of his surroundings, raised a blond eyebrow in the direction of the adults.
"What is a muse?"
"Um... please don't ask." Tadashi tried to warn him but, much to his regret, his father took control of the conversation practically instantly.
"I'm glad you asked, Kei-kun."
"Ugh, dad…" he would never get his new friend to believe that he was cool if his parents were in the same room.
"You see, kids…" he began, his ecstasy evident in the gleam of his dark brown eyes. Normally a reserved man, calm as the sea rocked by the chilly wind, he displayed slightly superior energy when it came to his passions. To no one's surprise, both his music and his wife made that list "…a great number of extraordinary musicians have had a person in their lives who has inspired them to compose unprecedented works." he explained, absently tapping random keys. Soft sounds, melting peacefully in the warm air of the store, sounds that probably glowed in pale pastels before his father's eyes. He, who could see colors, unlike Tadashi. "These artists fell in love with extraordinary women and composed songs for them." suddenly, he paused and gave the guest a friendly look "Kei-kun, have you heard of a British band called Queen?"
In response, he only received a silent gesture from the blonde, who shook his head as he returned the discarded ukulele to his friend.
"Well, the main singer of this band, he met a young woman named Mary Austin. Beautiful, untamed, she completely dazzled him." he continued, inspired, without allowing the ignorance of one of the bands that had most influenced rock discourage him "She became his partner and his best friend. And he composed a song for her that would resonate universally; Love of my life." he finished, replicating the first notes on the piano. A sad, melancholic ballad, an ode to unconditional love but also to pain, to the difficulties that could be encountered when embarking on an adventure as extraordinary as falling in love with someone.
"Cheesy, I know." Tadashi intervened, somewhat desperate to still look like the carefree and insightful guy he wanted to be in front of his friend.
"You do have a talent for words when you want." added the matriarch of the family, saving the day for her son's reddened cheeks, burning in shame for the older's corniness "Don't bore the children now, come on."
"What about Beethoven? Have you heard of him at school?" he continued, doing something that he rarely managed to do in his life; ignore his wife's words.
"Sometimes." Tsukishima replied, with a slight shrug of his bony shoulders. His hands were lost somewhere in the pockets of that baggy sweatshirt.
"Well, he… composed this tune…" his words vibrated with delight, deft fingers moving over the keys with ease, thus making their rendition of the famous melody "…called Fur Elise. Some historians say that he wrote it thinking of one of his students, who never knew how to reciprocate his love." he explained, fascination on the subject making his normally dull, serene brown eyes sparkle.
This new information didn't seem to change the children's perceptions of music, performers, or their muses. Subjects as complex and abstract as love were something unintelligible to their inexperienced minds. For their minds where bad volleyball matches, amid laughter and affable mockery, predominated. Where issues like video games about pocket monsters, the next test coming up, or what kind of hairstyle would make them look slightly less disgusting in front of the girls, ruled. Faced with these problems, fundamental for the age they were going through, issues such as romance or the ways of dedicating affection used to go to the background.
"I thought the awesome part about him was that he could play despite being deaf." Tadashi added shortly after, trying to let out the most scathing side of him to earn a laugh from his newest friend. However, he only got a couple of choked, clumsy notes in response, due to Tsukishima's long fingers stubbornly returning over the forgotten instrument "That sounded great, Tsukki!"
"You don't have to lie to me, Yamaguchi." he chimed in, frowning deeply as he remembered why he had put the ukulele aside in the first place, too challenging for his logical and theoretical brain. Although it weighed on him, Yamaguchi was the pragmatist between the two.
"Sorry, Tsukki. But seriously, you're doing great!"
"He had a hearing loss that became total in his adulthood, that's true, but... he also had a muse." added the patriarch again, interrupting the conversation to return to a topic that was already beginning to be forgotten.
"Cut it out, dad..." the little brunette commented weakly, voice shaking with uncomfortable laughter. How long was he going to keep talking about the same thing? Did he actually want Tsukki to think he was a loser with sappy parents? His father was, normally, his greatest ally, the person with whom he felt the most affinity in this world. Yet today he seemed determined to embarrass him.
"I know you will understand it one day, Tadashi." he answered, recovering some of his usual calm, the affable and drowsy tone of his voice gradually returning. His fingers, distracted, played random notes, which reverberated gracefully in the air before disappearing "Playing music honoring the great ones is pointless if we don't stop to think like them." a short, slow, melancholic melody crept delicately through their ears in the pauses his father deliberately chose to use to speak. What he was playing sounded great, and even someone as skeptical as Tadashi couldn't help but stand still, fascinated, just listening. The music just managed to hypnotize him "Someday, you'll play a song for someone. Someone special, someone who inspires you to create." without stopping pressing keys, with parsimony, slowly, his eyes (somewhat tired, with drooping eyelids, large but not very expressive) searched for him with intensity, intending to catch his curiosity "And I promise you... that the way you feel about music will change that day."
Flashes of pale colors danced from the piano, like little soundless fireworks, lost in the vastness of the store. Swirling wind manifested from the piano, magically, it was the only way to explain the chill that ran through his body and the way his short hair seemed to dance to the beat of a breeze. From that instrument seemed to come answers to questions that he had not yet begun to ask himself, it seemed to harbor all the wisdom of years to come that his father was trying to teach him. Sometimes words were difficult for him to understand, people could contradict themselves or choke on words. But music doesn't. It was surprisingly easy to understand.
"That's enough." his mother intervened, finally, interrupting the silence of both children. Tadashi's eyes had been glued to the piano until then, Tsukishima's only fixed on his friend, confused. What was it that Yamaguchi was able to see, but he wasn't? Was it something in the family? Would it be something only noticeable to music fans? "It's time to feed these poor boys and finish the music history class. Don't you think?" she proposed, the charismatic smile eating her face away. Both hands dug into both children's hair, ruffling them gently "Come on, let's get going! Kei-kun, are you planning to keep that ukulele?"
"No thanks." the blond replied with a small voice "It hurts my fingers..."
"Oh, I understand you perfectly, my boy!" she replied, theatrically imposing her voice "I never really wanted to dedicate my life to music, this man dragged me along with him." she snapped, pointing to the patriarch who had just started to get up from the piano bench with her thumb, over her shoulder "I was destined to be the best javelin thrower this country has ever seen!" rxtending an arm forward, closing it into a triumphant fist, like someone reaching to touch a dream with her hands, his mother laughed at her own joke. At times, she could be extremely insightful...but there were times when her jokes just didn't land properly.
"Mom…" he muttered through his teeth, covering his embarrassed features with the palm of his hand, freckles disappearing behind an annoying blush.
"Your parents are kinda weird." Tsukishima muttered, covering his mouth with one hand to speak to the other in confidence.
"Tell me about it." the poor child lamented. And they both laughed in a new found complicity. If Tsukishima-kun continued to hang out with him at school after meeting his parents, then he truly would have struck up a friendship with the coolest person in the world.
A few hours ago, the sky had proudly presented a pastel-colored watercolor; pink, purple, blue and yellowish that bled and paled under the inexorable passing of the night. Currently it was the darkness who, with its stern presence, looked back at Yamaguchi through the windows of the classroom. The stars, timid, dotted the immensity of the sky as if fearing to disturb him, with enough modesty to barely illuminate, the multiple yellowish gleam of the street lights took on that job. His own reflection was examining him through the glass, pale and with soft but accentuated shadows under tired brown eyes.
The natural fluidity of the commotion that invaded the music room had mutated, diminished until it became the joyous tinkle of one or two conversations occurring at the same time, as the young man shouldered the case containing his trusty saxophone heavily, listening how a couple of random friends annoyed each other playfully, one of them affirming to the other that they would let the other fall into the hands of a yurei if they didn't hurry up to follow them. And Tadashi smiled lazily, because it kinda reminded him of Tsukki.
Tsukki, who, hours before, had contacted him by messages to let him know that their school had been victorious in both their match against Tokonami and Dateko. And who was probably on his way to his house, shuffling lazily after resting in Morpheus's arms on the bus back to Karasuno.
"Did you hear it?" an anonymous voice echoed through the corridors, echoing in the young man's attentive ears, even though the message wasn't intended for him to listen to "The men's volleyball team won their first two games!"
"I know, I just saw them on television in the computer lab." a female voice answered with equal enthusiasm. Their conversation vibrated through the walls a little bit more, words skimming coherency before fading away as their footsteps inched outward. He really was glad for his best friend, a victory against the iron wall was no small thing, especially for an institution whose reputation consisted of past glories and present mediocrity. He smiled, between the bother in his sore eyes and the wild yawns he tried to suppress, he smiled proudly to himself and silently vowed to continue working hard, to be as extraordinary as Tsukki in his own field of expertise.
Tadashi wasn't sleeping much lately. Even with the necessary elements to soundproof his room, essential in a home dedicated to music, he still received visitors at dawn when they caught him playing the saxophone instead of resting. His father, understanding and gentle, reminded him how not all people demonstrate their best potential during nightime and how it would be more prudent and productive to try it in the morning. His mother, eyes glued together and the shape of her pillow altering half of her hair, snatched the instrument from his hands and turned off the light in his room without saying a word.
Neither of them could understand him. They were living in completely opposite stages. They had already achieved everything they could possibly want, reaching a moment of satisfaction and pride in past achievements. Tadashi not only had to prove his worth, demonstrate the true swirls of colors hidden behind the deepest and most primal sounds of his potential but also had a duty to match in only a few weeks the experience and skill that his bandmates had polished for years.
He felt this need, this heaviness in his chest that subjugated him, forced him to show everyone; to his parents, Tsukki, Nakamura-san, his club mates who had already participated in countless competitions in their brief existence, to Kageyama, even... that he was valuable, talented and prodigious, as much as anyone else. That even someone like him could stand out if he tried hard enough.
"Yamaguchi!" suddenly, materializing in the middle of his obsessive musings, Hinata's voice became a reality, drawing his small figure in the middle of the night, closely followed by the tall and circumspect silhouette of his usual companion, brow deeply furrowed, completely out of tune with the broad smile and vibrant enthusiasm of the spiker, who greeted him by waving one of his arms and dragging the last vowel of his name.
"Hey, guys!" Tadashi greeted, feeling momentarily recharged by the energy of the redhead. "I heard you won their first two matches!" he added with renewed joy, the gentle night breeze absentmindedly swinging the tops of the nearby trees as he spoke "You even appeared on TV and..." unexpectedly, he was forced to stop when the gazes of both interlocutors darkened "... um, guys?" he tried, receiving only a ghostly silence that he desperately tried to fill with hesitations and nervous giggles "Well, uh… Congratulations! What's next now?"
"We'll play against Aoba Joshai." Hinata replied, flexing one of his arms while the flames of his usual desire for triumph flamed in his irises "The Great King will play this time but…" he paused, creating expectation, directing a knowing look at his taciturn companion "...with our super fast secret weapon it'll be impossible to lose!"
The words, shouted with confidence as if they were fireworks exploding with force and illuminating the sky, were lost in the immensity of the night, gently cradled by the wind that carried them elsewhere, leaving them alone with the singing of the crickets to musicalize their meeting. And Yamaguchi couldn't help the way his eyebrows arched in a naive expression.
"The Great K…?"
"We are not going to lose." Kageyama interrupted, sudden and firm. Convinced to the core of his deep-seated confidence. There was something at that moment that was totally out of tune with Hinata's childish and genuine enthusiasm, there was a palpable, tangible tension around the figure of the setter. Seijoh was one of the prefectural titans, rising undisputed from a higher pedestal. Was Kageyama nervous? Was it possible, for a prodigy in his field, for someone who displayed such skill and control over his abilities, to feel nervous? Was it even fair to Tadashi, who was trying to row on his own in the raging tides of fate in a much less favorable situation?
"That's the spirit." he replied simply, with a somewhat feigned smile, as soon as he got tired from the deafening vibration of howling owls from distant trees. "…ugh, shit." he clicked his tongue abruptly, as a sudden lightness on his normally tense and over-demanding shoulders caught his own attention "I forgot my backpack. I hope there's no yurei inside trying to catch me." he joked lightly, trying to sweep away the tension from the environment.
"Yu-yurei?" Hinata repeated, in a small voice. Tadashi was surprised to be the first time he heard his voice be so... slim, fragile, instead of the typical thunderous sound he was used to, the orange lights that his father would see floating around the spiker should now be dim, as the flickering light of a candle about to go out.
"Yeah, my classmates were talking about it before they left. They were just messing around. I'll go get my backpack and..."
"But what if there really is a yurei in there?!" the other insisted, eyes wide, pale under the golden lights that guarded the school's entrance.
"Those things aren't real, idiot." he interrupted again, with a roaring and vehement voice. Meanwhile, the poor boy who had been unconsciously drawn into the sudden spectacle was trying his best not to show how badly he wanted to burst out laughing. He had to take a mental note of each phrase and expression to recreate it for Tsukki the next day, it would definitely fascinate him.
"Oh, yeah? I don't see you going into school, Bakageyama!" snapped the redhead with a mocking tone.
"Because it's stupid."
"Or is it because you are scared?" the other insisted and as his smile grew, the throbbing vein in the setter's neck did too.
"Um… Guys?" Tadashi tried, in vain, to abstract them from the fierce struggle. However, their rants, humorous on one side and extremely angry on the other, clashed like swords slicing the air and the young musician's willingness to stay and hear more.
"I'm not scared, Hinata you idiot!" he settled the matter with the delicacy of a hammer slamming against the window of a car, turning his back on his teammate to enter the deserted school once more "Let's go find your stupid backpack."
"Wow, thanks…" he murmured, with evident sarcasm. His brown eyes searched for the joyous beacon of hope in the darkness of the night, smiling at him with kindness "Hinata, you coming?"
"Oh! I ... I have to go get my bike, it's getting kinda late and..." the words ran over each other, resulting in an erratic torrent that trembled at the simple idea of entering the dark and abandoned building. Finding himself with no more excuses to cling to like a lifeline, he simply flaunted his physical prowess and speed by leaving the situation between long trots "Yeah, bye!"
The night promptly took care of devouring the spiker's figure out of the reach, leaving behind an aura of nervousness and insecurity. After all, the last time Tadashi had taken it upon himself to strike up a conversation alone with the presumptuous setter, he had subsequently fled the scene with a solid four seconds of eye contact.
"Did you see that?" he muttered, between weak laughs, trying with all his might to suppress the shameful memories of the bonfire, where he had agreed to become the center of attention on the condition of receiving the smallest possible hint of a smile, a positive demonstration on his part. Of course, only Kageyama's wide back provided a silent answer to his question "Ah, right… Thanks for waiting for me." he grumbled, placing nervous hands over the strap that held the instrument against his shoulder, entering the gloom of the empty school.
"Whatever." replied the other, harsh "Where did you leave your things?"
"In the music room."
"Huh. I don't think I've ever been there before."
The dry comments were out of tune with the serene atmosphere that surrounded them on the way to the classroom. The rhythmic sound of their footsteps musicalized the environment while the pale moonlight filtered through the bare windows, projecting a bluish hue against the hard features of the boy who had decided to turn his back on the whole world and never look back to advance until brushing his dreams with his fingertips. Playful shadows danced and slid into the short hair of the boy who loved to hear melodies in everyday sounds, who loved it so intensely and fiercely that he couldn't see himself organizing his melodies, those pieces of his own soul, within structured boxes, hermetically sealed, ready to be exhibited and rated for quality. So radically different, the one who sought perfection day by day and the one who hated it. The one who looked for colors in the symphonies and the one who constantly hunted the peculiar tickle of feeling the ball fit perfectly against the skin of his fingers, walking shoulder to shoulder, under the same moon. Passionate and intoxicated by their desires, absolutely unable to look into each other's eyes.
"Yeah, well... Why would you go there, right?" Yamaguchi replied, playing with a mocking tone "What do you think? Are there any ghosts around here?" he added then, feet guiding him by inertia along that path that he knew too well. In response, the click of Kageyama's tongue echoed through the deserted corridors, as the gentle sway up the stairs gently moved the normally limp strands of straight black hair.
"That nonsense could only scare a dumbass like Hinata."
"Well…" the other began, caressing his chin lightly with the palm of his hand, thoughtfully "…when I was little, I really believed those kinds of things existed, you know? Like, for a week I thought my house was haunted because I heard wailing and screaming from my room. It turned out that a cat had sneaked in through the kitchen window and..." once again, rejection. Not an explosive rejection, no one was yelling in his face how much they weren't interested in his words. No, it was a silent, indifferent rejection, too lazy to require words. He used to have that effect on people, similar to being invisible. Normally, he couldn't care less, but when it came to Kageyama… he couldn't help but frown "…yeah, you're not listening to me."
"So this is the music room." he commented, with a certain hint of astonishment in his stoic and impassive voice. And Tadashi's side leaned comfortably against the open door frame. He had been in that same room, sitting in one of those empty chairs for three hours, but he hadn't really stopped to look at the place. Not until he was there, standing, taking everything in for the first time with new, hungry eyes. The wooden floor was decorated with stripes of white light coming from outside, the singing of cicadas and the hooting of owls on the other side of the walls gave them a privileged serenade. And the piano, huge, imposing, silent, seemed to have captured the attention of the setter, the one who only had eyes for high nets and rubber balls. The young musician let out a slight, restrained smile, feeling intensely subdued under the tenderness that the situation caused him, trapped within the grip of his own attraction to the other young man. There was no way to fight it, there was no way to win; he just couldn't do anything about him liking Kageyama; as much as the other showed, over and over again, how rude, arrogant, and simple-minded could be, it only required that... it only required a second of silence on his part, where he observed a piano with childishly enthralled eyes, and Tadashi was once again smitten.
"Yup, welcome to our world." he muttered, resigned to his frustrating fate, finally deciding to move into the room "It's not as big as the gym, though."
"…there's a piano." he finally spoke.
"Yeah, well... duh." he replied simply, with a nasal chuckle, picking up his forgotten backpack from the place where it had been abandoned, amid a suffocating torrent of catastrophic and existential thoughts.
"You know?" the setter began, suddenly, calm and casual eyes infatuated with the piano, refusing to look at the other "When you played at the bonfire, a few days ago. We played a match right after. And we won."
"Uh-huh?" he answered carefully.
"Tomorrow we'll play against Aoba Josai." he explained calmly. Then, took a couple of slow steps towards the wall near the piano, sitting on the polished wooden floor and ignoring the multiplicity of chairs near Tadashi, he seemed to relax his tense shoulders as he dropped down his body "It's one of the best schools in the prefecture."
"I see..." he commented through clenched teeth, carrying his backpack on both shoulders and lazily approaching the place where the other was "...Tsukki said you already won against them once, though."
"This time it's different." he snapped, simply but also with an undeniable sense of urgency. Then there was a pause, where the setter seemed to have exhausted all of his words and Tadashi, confused and disoriented, didn't dare to say anything more. It was as if any sound outside of term could break that peculiar harmony, that serene atmosphere that had suddenly occurred. Perhaps, if he spoke, Kageyama would get up and remember that they had to leave, he would watch his back walk away in the hallway and never be able to come up with a good enough excuse to hang out together. "I'm not worried about me. I'm good at volleyball. I trust my decisions." he explained suddenly, surprisingly verbose, taking strange bends along the way to avoid reaching a point that the young musician was completely unaware of "Our team isn't bad. But there is Hinata, who is bad. And Tsukishima, who can barely last a set without getting tired."
"Hey!" the opposite complained, raising his voice. The boy whose hair matched the dark night waiting for them behind the windows decided to ignore the protest.
"The point is..." his implacable blue eyes, fixed on the ground, rose to a standstill behind Tadashi's shoulder, thinking, organizing the words in his head "... that maybe we need some extra luck. Like we did at the bonfire."
For a moment, the environment seemed to swallow all possible sounds; the phrases stuck in the brunette's throat, the timid echo of Kageyama's explanations, the crickets, the owls, the whistling of the wind, everything seemed to stop. Everything seemed to disappear waiting, expectantly, for a response from that stunned boy, whose shoulders complained about the extra weight, whose heart guarded by spears and shields seemed to lower the weapons and throw them away, captivated by the mere idea of what the other was offering.
"Are you saying that... you want me to play something?"
The languid teenager, whose long shadow lurked on the dimmed wall, always serious, always with a strange air of uprightness, nodded, frowning deeply, waiting.
"Um… but…" he placed a hand to the back of his neck, long fingers toying nervously with the short hairs. How was it possible to listen and believe in such a proposal after the reaction he received at the bonfire? Kageyama had fled from him as if he were mortally ill, fearful of catching his fatal condition.
Did good luck when playing at a match really mean that much to him? Even though an explanation like that would make Kageyama look extraordinarily naive (no, stupid. The word Tadashi was looking for was stupid), it could be possible. Everything was possible with a person so extremely difficult to read "…it's a bit late. Aren't you tired? Shouldn't you be at home by now?"
The setter literally seemed to have exhausted his daily capacity for words, as he responded with an indifferent shrug. To which the opposite grunted, once again abandoning his belongings on the floor and advancing towards the piano. He had never laid a finger on that instrument, not the one at the school. It almost felt like trying his luck by playing with a forbidden relic, like those American movies his mother adored, where trouble-prone archaeologists ventured into caves to seize every ancient artifact they will find. He sat on the stool, his back to Kageyama, fingers floating over the keys, trying to decide where to start.
"Did you want any song in particular?" he ventured, throwing a life preserver into the deep sea.
"No. Anything is fine." he replied, drawing a knife to rip said life preserver and let it sink like a useless piece of plastic.
A large amount of air (that he wasn't aware he was holding) escaped from his nose, a powerful sigh that relaxed his tense joints. He began to play a soft, random melody, guiding himself by the sound and pressing where it felt right, improvising. After years sheltered by a home where melodies abounded, he could afford to let his privileged ear take control of automatic actions while his mind searched every corner, every forgotten drawer full of cobwebs and dust, to find a good enough song to impress Kageyama.
Suddenly he felt blank as if a raging fire had swept through the mental archives that took him years to build. A fire that flamed in his chest, urging him to think of something dazzling, a fire that raged in his face, invaded by a sudden heat. The setter seemed to be calm, away from the fire, his head leaning against the wall and eyes closed gave him a very approachable aura, opposite to his normal impetuosity.
Tadashi gave him a sideways glance, watching him there, so relaxed, surprisingly casual, letting himself be carried away by the moment without demanding anything and simply appreciating whatever sound he managed to decipher from that old piano, that the answer seemed obvious. It burst into his mind like lightning, illuminating his organized symphony file cabinet, providing the clarity he needed. Long ago, when he was too inexperienced to play his own songs but still showed an interest in music, his father had told him a simple phrase. A phrase that escaped his lips, rolling down his tongue with absolute simplicity.
"Hey, do you want to play too?" he proposed, offering him a friendly smile. His fingers stopped in anticipation, and one of the setter's icy eyes opened to look at him suspiciously.
"I don't know how."
"I'll teach you, come here." he insisted, suddenly inspired. "It'll be fun watching you do something you're not good at, for a change." frowning again, the boy got up, reluctantly, advancing towards the instrument. He lazily took a seat next to Tadashi. They both noticed that the space was reduced, that their shoulders were touching, neither said anything about it "This note is Do." the young musician pronounced, pressing the key firmly, the sound floating around their concentrated faces, then disappearing into thin air. Then he pressed the key to his right and the piano made a slightly higher groan than before "Re. Do you know what's next?"
Silence, silence, silence. The brunette tried his best to find his eyes in an attempt to start a conversation, but was unsuccessful, finding only an evasive look and a pair of deeply pursed lips. Wow, he really hates not being immediately good at something.
"Okay, listen. It's… Do, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La, Si, Do." he explained, one by one, playing the scale until it ended in a nice high-pitched squeak at the end, showing off all his possible didactic abilities.
"You already said Do."
"I know, it starts over. It's called an octave. It repeats until the keys are finished."
"And what about the black ones?" he asked then, looking at the keys as if they owed him money.
"Um, they're sharps." he muttered, trying to find simple terms to explain a complex concept "They can raise or lower a tone. It's complicated, we won't see it now. Put your fingers here." in an impulse to be dynamic, one of his hands reached out to meet the other's, guiding his fingers to the indicated place. And that light touch, so furtive, so nonchalant, managed to release an electric current through his spine that was hidden with a surprising acting ability for someone who had a fire going on inside his chest. "Play this key twice" he indicated, gently, listening to the uncomfortable anguish that emerged from the piano as he guided him again, four notes higher "Now here, twice" he continued, ignoring the hostile gaze of his companion, fiercely concentrated as he struggled to follow the rhythm. Gradually, awkwardly, the characteristic melody of a nursery rhyme trembled uncertainly through the classroom walls, like a baby taking its first fearful steps.
"Softer, okay? Imagine that you have a small ball under your palm."
"Huh?" the one who carried the night in his dark hair finally reacted, giving him a skeptical look "Why for?"
"My father says that is the right position for the wrist." he explained, with a slight shrug. The seven notes that Tadashi had managed to teach him repeated, over and over again, in a laborious loop that Kageyama seemed to be starting to control "What do you think? Fun?" he inquired, not being able to contain the huge and stupid smile that spread across his face as he was sharing his greatest passion with Kageyama.
"I guess..." he whispered, barely parting his lips to answer, his skillful fingers had already become accustomed to the order that Tadashi had established and developed it mechanically, without understanding notes or meanings, practically without hearing the result.
"You are doing it great. Play Do twice, then Sol and then La. And it sounds like this..." kind, he guided him again with his own hands, adding lyrics to the melody with an English extremely enclosed in a thick Japanese accent "Twinkle...twinkle...little... star..." he crooned, slowly, respecting the time it took him to move from one key to the other and earning a sidelong glance from the setter "Amazing. Now, go the opposite direction, towards Fa, Mi and Re, twice each one" he explained, guiding him once more, the electricity that was caused by the friction of his fingers against his, seemed to have diminished until it became a simple spark that exploded in his brain, making it difficult to concentrate, he was certainly giving his best effort "How...I wonder...where...you are..." gradually, delicately and calm, the notes flowed in timid colors that tangled harmonically with his clumsy attempts at singing in English, forming a decent sound that spun in warm tones over the old keys. Exhilarated, his brown eyes blazed with fireworks as he gave him a full glare "You just played a song!"
A strange grimace appeared, which was definitely not a smile but was something curved on Kageyama's lips, who let his disoriented hands rest over his lap before returning his gaze with that renewed sense of solemnity.
"Can I hear something that you play, this time?" he urged again on his good luck ritual, which Tadashi had been wanting to want to avoid with his impromptu lesson. Perhaps if Kageyama knew how to play something himself, he wouldn't seek his assistance for the sole purpose of winning volleyball games. Although it was clear that Tadashi's assumptions were wrong. As was often the case when something confused or took him by surprise, the young musician blinked silently; once, twice, until being able to articulate a deeply graceful word.
"Huh?" rather, a hoarse sound stuck in his throat, which he cleared quickly, covering his mouth with his fist in an evasive movement. He still had no idea what the hell could be a good choice to play for Kageyama "I… y-yeah." unsure, slightly trembling, his calloused fingers after endless music sessions were positioned on the keys. His eyes closed for an instant, a kind of defense mechanism where the answer manifested itself in the gloom of his unconscious. On the black curtain behind his eyelids, his father's study was painted. Extremely small, a spare room where he arranged his instruments and a desk as if they were Tetris pieces. On the white walls where the golden afternoon light settled comfortably, hung some framed family photos and, below them, the imposing piano that took up almost the entire capacity of the room. His father was drawn into the scene shortly after, sitting on the bench, playing a particularly sad song. He had always liked melancholic songs, while his mother enjoyed happier or more untamed genres. Being the only thing he could think of at the time, his mortified eyes opened and his fingers snapped into position "Don't make fun of me, I can't think of a better song right now." he warned weakly.
With a graceful gesture of his wrist, he played the initial melody and let his trained ear let him continue with the rest while singing the lyrics in a slightly raspy voice, undeniably shy "Yume no tochuu de me wo samashi" he sang, emphasizing the last syllable by slightly sharpening his voice. 'Manatsu no Tooriame' or 'Summer Showers' was quite a depressing choice and both his body language, tense and slightly hunched forward, as if he wanted to hide inside the piano, and his slightly insecure voice made it immediately noticeable. The author had created the song to capture the feelings of grief after having lost a loved one, with lyrics that perfectly described the desperate cry to be able to stop feeling sorrow. And how to remember that special person in her dreams only added to the misery she felt. And, for a moment, Tadashi internally cursed his father for playing it home and accidentally causing him an earworm at the worst possible moment.
"Mabuta tojite mo Modorenai," he continued, dragging the last vowel once more, casting tentative glances at his side just to see those predatory eyes fixed on him. At the very least, the setter didn't seem displeased, he looked relaxed, extremely focused, as if everything else around him had been played down. Wow, he really wanted some luck to win that match, huh?
But, at least, the look of genuine interest on his part helped to melt the hard layer of insecurity around his sound, freeing his voice and his usual, relaxed posture to capture a melody in the silence of the night, recovering much of the confidence he had shown the night of the bonfire when he joined a group of strangers in song in the blaze of the moment. That was what music meant for Tadashi; magic, connection, union. And, as he tactfully intoned an ode to suffering, as the lyrics purred out of his mouth like silk, as his fingers moved gracefully, dancing in his field of expertise, as he regained his trust, Kageyama looked at him.
Kageyama didn't look at the piano, nor his hands, he observed with impassive inquisitiveness the subtle changes. The way his neck seemed to vibrate with the high notes, the way his eyes narrowed on the choruses as if it were his favorite part and had to make sure he felt it with the intensity it deserved, and his mortal senses were an obstacle to that goal. The way the corners of his mouth curved at certain parts of the lyrics, genuinely enjoying the experience. Interestingly, Yamaguchi reminded him of the common expression of joy that many of his teammates displayed during the brief moments of rest from a game.
And the song began to pick up, gradually, until the last notes, created with softness, were lost echoing in the empty room. As if a superior presence had abandoned them, giving them a blessing, only the two of them remained.
Tadashi, his shaking hands returning to his lap, and Kageyama, his intense eyes examining him silently. For a moment, the song seemed to be replaced by a couple of rhythmic heartbeats, the words seemed to have melted, forming a sticky pool on the floor and leaving them defenseless, with the pale moonlight illuminating the musician's expectant brown eyes.
"You're quiet." he finally commented after what felt like an eternity. The air had grown heavier, labored in his poor lungs, the sound of the city outside those walls seemed to have suddenly died away, leaving them deeply alone.
"Yeah, well…" the other began, settling into place with some difficulty. And, for a moment, that was it. He had used a select few of the words that had survived, before melting and perishing uselessly at their feet. It was as if the night had swallowed everything up and there were only those blue irises, that were watching him with surprising serenity, an expression that he never believed Kageyama was capable of making. Those irises that were the color of a song played on a piano, with a slow and melancholic beginning and a bridge that grew progressively until it reached a powerful chorus that demonstrated the explosion of talent that this simple-minded boy encapsulated. Those irises that whispered to him to come closer. Or was it Kageyama who had moved closer...? "... I was just thinking that it'll give us luck." he whispered, finally, and Yamaguchi could not suppress a slight jump when he felt his words, materialized in an exhalation of warm air, caress him under his nose.
"You think so?" he asked out of sheer inertia, just to answer something. Who cares about luck when the symphony of his destiny seemed to be about to reach the peak of the music sheet?
But Kageyama nodded and made the drastic decision to get close enough that his thin lips collapsed against the other's, like a car with no brakes, permanently intense and committed to everything he did.
And it was as if all the colors of the world came together in a violent flurry, dragging leaves and chairs in its wake, tousling his hair and shaking the wide ends of his baggy uniform. It was as if all the colors of the world came together in a blinding force of white light that allowed him to see how the setter closed his eyes while his hands closed tightly on Tadashi's forearms. It was like a simple, beautiful, predictable melody that grew in intensity; piano, violins, harp, and cymbals exploding in his ear as wind and light played with his senses as if a simple melody burst into a glorious symphony. And Tadashi cradled the square jaw of the setter with one hand, eager to feel him, as they intoned their own song between inexperienced lip smacks, which played between delicate and affectionate frictions and abrupt movements, in between tongues and teeth that hindered or helped the fluidity of the moment, between held breaths and trembling sighs that escaped from their noses.
And it seemed that everything could be like this forever, that they would spend eternity writing their own dissonant symphony while the heat invaded their faces while staining Tobio's ears crimson and hiding Tadashi's freckles. It seemed that everything could be like this forever, until… the setter leaned back. And the divine light seemed to disintegrate, little by little, splitting into small pieces that floated until they vanished in the air, giving way to the darkness of the night. And the impetuous gust seemed to subside, depositing him back on the narrow seat, letting his shoulders fall forward. The symphony had ceased, as unexpectedly as it began, leaving the way free for the natural sounds of the environment. The magic was gone and, in front of him, there was only a teenager with a sullen expression, squinting suspiciously like a bloodhound sniffing the air for something fishy, gaze fixed on a distant point on the horizon.
"Hey, Kageyama, what are you…?"
"You hear something?" he asked suddenly, voice roaring from the depths of his throat.
"Eh? No, I…" however, maybe he was hearing something. So absorbed in the idyllic nature of the moment, allowing himself to be transported within that dream world, that he didn't notice the sound of footsteps that approached through the corridor until he was able to withdraw from that hole that led him to wonderland "Shit!" he murmured, irritated, taking him by the forearm with force to get up from the seat and take back his belongings in a fit.
He had never stayed at the school until late enough to cross paths with the janitors, so the mere existence of the guy had not appeared in his mind until now. A thick, guttural voice demanded to know who was there, echoing through the hall, speaking directly into the empty, darkened room. There was only one way out, the same door they had used previously to enter, and the adrenaline surged through his throat like feverish acid when he simply managed to take refuge in the gloom and hide his tall, long-limbed body behind one of the multiple chairs lined up for band practices. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the volleyball addict mimicked his movements.
Caught in the presence of the janitor, interrogating the very darkness of the corners in search of intruders, the teenagers held their breath in a desperate attempt to protect every insignificant sound. Neither of them had any idea what could happen if they were found loitering in the institution outside of the established hours. However, even the densest individual could deduce that it would involve contacting their parents and calls for attention that nor someone who was about to play one of the decisive matches of his youth the very next day, or someone who was putting aside all his basic needs to be accepted into the select group of his club, needed right now.
After a few moments of eerie silence, barely interrupted by the occasional questions from the suspicious janitor, who seemed determined not to leave the place until he found out the mystery behind the piano tune he had heard, Kageyama seemed fed up. Much more impatient and practical than the young musician, he clicked his tongue in annoyance and grabbed his wrist roughly to prepare to run to the door just barely as the opening provided by the man giving his back to them for a few seconds appeared before them. Of course, they heard outraged exclamations as soon as they came out, failing in their intent to go unnoticed. Nevertheless, the screams of the unknown man began to lose their volume, like the end of a noisy song, as their run took them away from the classroom, jumping the steps of the stair two at a time, descending to the ground floor in haste.
The setter's fingers tightened on his wrist and forced him to keep up his ridiculously fast pace. And Tadashi had been an active young man all his life, playing sports regularly, but there was no way in hell the speed of his steps could compare with the one in front of him, who moved with the inertia and rigidity of a predator, concentrating on the exit as the only destination.
Eventually, the cool night air manifested as a soft caress against his sweat-beaded face, the incessant patter of their footsteps being replaced by the silence outside and the gasps that escaped his open mouth as he finally let his hands rest over his knees, trying to regain the natural rhythm of his breathing.
It was then that, uncontrollably, emerging from inside him like a bubbling wave, a laugh emanated from deep in his stomach, forcing him to close his eyes and throw his head back, holding back the slight tears produced by the attack of laughter.
"That was… ridiculous!" he said, in a weak thread of voice
"What are you laughing at?" snapped the other, watching him with a raised eyebrow, incredulous and confused.
"His face! Did you see his face when we started running?" he tried to ask, in between violent shakes of new laughter that emanated from his chest, forcing him to cover part of his face with one hand, shoulders rising and falling with each laugh.
Perhaps, in the fury of the moment, he had made the mistake of turning back, carried away by the powerful current of Kageyama's trot, to visualize for a fleeting moment the janitor's expression of complete perplexity, which, drawn to perfection in his imagination was causing him to break his ribs with laughter to the point that it was difficult to breathe "It was… it was too much."
"Y-yeah." the normally stoic setter admitted, joining the cheer of nervous laughter. Hearing Kageyama laugh was strange, his tense features relaxed, his eyes closed, his head and shoulders lowered contrary to Tadashi, who leaned back to laugh with his whole body. He, on the other hand, seemed to get smaller as he laughed, in contrast to his usually grandiose presence.
Ah, he wanted to remember the sound of that laugh forever, merging with his own in a new song. Ah, he wanted to burn that image inside his retinas and never forget it.
"You totally thought it was a ghost for a second." he teased him, inevitably blushing, hiding his fascination behind a biting smile.
"No, I didn't!" he shrieked with his usual primal tone of voice, purposely breaking the charm under which he had enchanted the young musician until a few seconds ago, replacing his dazzling smile with an expression of complete fury at the suggestion that he might be afraid of something so childish.
"Oh, I can't wait to tell Hinata how scared you were…"
"Idiot! None of that happened!" he protested, raising his voice to try to drown out the singing laughter of the other. Taking heavy strides forward, one of his shoulders brushed against Tadashi's saxophone case, accidentally causing it to rock until it slid down his forearm "...he almost caught us because you're carrying too much stuff!"
Yet there was no protest or complaint, no exclamation or reproach that could spoil his amusement. There was a possibility that he could even like Kageyama's angry side, this situation was definitely getting out of his control. Settling the instrument firmly once more, he followed silently, keeping pace with the frustration-filled footsteps that seemed to leave fiery marks in their wake.
Eventually, the laughter died away, the anger froze, and the night breeze made an appearance again, guiding them home through the golden street lights. And the unaddressed subject was there, palpable, practically tangible under his fingertips, standing between their bodies and forcing an uncomfortable distance. A distance that Tadashi tried to narrow with a soft clearing of his throat to get his attention.
"… Hey, um, Kageyama?" he tried, watching him turn his neck in his direction and how the golden sparks danced in the deep ocean of his eyes. Fuck, this will be difficult... "About... what happened..." he murmured quickly, words running over each other "I'm sorry, I..."
"Hm? No, it's fine." muttered the other, in a surprisingly gentle tone, avoiding contact with the brown eyes immediately, absentmindedly scratching one side of the straight black hair.
And, for a moment, that was it. There was no need to apologize because everything was fine. For an indefinite moment, extended through the anonymous chambers of time, in which they advanced through the paved paths with tall grass around them, trees and the beach, there in the distance, sheltered under the moonlight, everything was fine.
"…we got carried away, huh?" Tadashi added, strangely determined that there was more to be said on the subject. Something that they were both deliberately ignoring, an invisible but enormous detail, which they chose to dance around, pretending not to exist.
"Yeah." he replied, a man of few words. Nonetheless, this time he looked disappointed, scanning his mind for words that seemed not to want to cooperate when expressing what he wanted to communicate. "I mean...it was hard not to..." continued then, gesticulating with a free hand, the one that wasn't closed on the strap of his sports bag "...you know, the atmosphere, the song..."
There it was. The subject they had been trying to avoid, materializing and shattering at the hands of a merciless blow. Alongside it also fell, inert and useless, a million phrases that had been buzzing like frenzied bees around a honeycomb in Tadashi's mind for days.
I think I like you. I think I like you since I saw your serve that time. Does this mean you like me too? Remember when I played that song at the bonfire? It was because I like you. It was because I wanted to impress you. Did you feel the same way all this time? Is that why you kissed me? Because you kissed me, right? Or am I remembering it wrong? I mean, it was pretty dark and all, but… Ah, this is a relief because all this time I thought you didn't like me and now… Am I… am I right?
Stepping over his hopes on the road, scattered them on the soles of their shoes, they advanced past the hill and down the long avenue to the suburbs. Tsukki had shared with him how they ran there in training sessions, to warm up her muscles. Tsukki hated it, of course, but Kageyama seemed to like it. Pushing his own limits to delight in the sweet taste of victory against Hinata. Of course.
Of course. Kageyama liked winning, very much. He liked volleyball, polished wood floors, the specific feeling of the weight of the ball between his fingers. He liked the tuna-stuffed onigiri at the team's community bonfires, he liked to scream and express his anger in an explosive way. He liked some songs, apparently, as long as they can grant him luck for his matches. But not him. He didn't like Tadashi.
"Y-yeah. You are right. It was definitely the song."
How long had he not spoken before blurting that out? He had lost track of it. And he wished the roar of the cars approaching behind him across the road had been loud enough to drown out Kageyama's reply. Which he, unfortunately, heard perfectly.
"We don't have to take it so seriously."
"You're right." the musician nodded automatically, without even thinking. Just letting the words slip away
The signal for a bus stop gradually materialized, to which the setter approached, sparing and silent. How was it possible that such an idyllic, delightfully dreamlike environment as the one they had recently shared had lost its shape to become that?
In that tense silence, physically uncomfortable, some kind of balloon that inflated with each step forward, with each elusive glance, with each attempt to speak that ended in a resigned purse of the lips.
He knew that any further mention of the same subject could cause that fragile balloon to explode. They both knew it. And neither wanted to be there when it happened. However, an instinct screamed in the brunette's ear how this was not enough, that there had to be more, there was no way he had misinterpreted everything, there was no w...
"Anyway, this is my stop." sharp, like the brandishing of a knife that cuts the air, his voice was present in the night as his body settled at the bus stop. Tadashi was nowhere near his home, not even remotely, but still, that instinct, that annoying buzzing vibrating inside him, glued his feet to the ground.
"I see." the brown eyes observed his own feet, the extension of the road, the opaque and muted colors of the stop, the blue eyes that had eaten him alive in the music room, searching desperately for the correct words that would break the curse of that detestable environment. Moistening his dry lips with the tip of his tongue, he tried one last time "Kageyama?" he received no response other than a gesture; the setter looked up with a genuine interest in his direction. "I won't be left behind."
Because maybe Kageyama didn't like him. Perhaps his bandmates far surpassed him in experience, perhaps his upperclassman considered him a hopeless case, a cataloged failure even before the beginning. But Kageyama liked to win, right? And everyone liked a winner.
He would practice. He would wear the bags under his eyes like a badge of honor. He would practice to demonstrate to everyone what he was capable of. He would practice to demonstrate to himself what he was capable of. He would practice to get back the feeling of that ancient, legendary sensation of playing music for someone you like.
And the setter smiled at him with his usual grin; predatory, dreadful, ruthless.
"You talk too much. Prove it."