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The city always looked colder after practice.
Not colder in temperature exactly—Miyagi in spring still carried traces of thawing snow and damp concrete and the faint promise of warmer evenings—but colder in the way the streets stretched endlessly under fluorescent convenience store lights. The sidewalks gleamed faintly from rain earlier in the afternoon, reflecting blurred reds and whites from passing cars. Bicycle wheels hissed over wet pavement. Somewhere farther downtown, a train rattled past, metal shrieking softly against tracks before disappearing into the dark.
Hinata liked evenings like this
Usually, after practice, Karasuno spilled out into the streets loud and messy and alive. Nishinoya shouting about ramen. Tanaka trying to start arguments for no reason. Yamaguchi laughing quietly while Tsukishima pretended not to listen to anyone. The gym still clung to all of them afterward —the smell of sweat and floor polish and warm rubber soles practically stitched into their uniforms.
Usually, Hinata biked home feeling lighter, and relaxed he would be thinking about the next practice session and the meat buns followed after it
Now, every practice left his chest feeling heavy by the time he walked out of the gym. The court didn't feel the same anymore. Not when every perfect toss coming from Kageyama only reminded him that somebody else could hit them now too, and better higher , stronger Hinata hated how often the thought followed him during practice—how easy it had apparently been for Kageyama to find another small spiker worth training with, another player worth staying late for. It made every mistake feel worse than usual, every missed spike enough to send panic clawing up his throat for a split second. Like if he stopped improving for even a moment, Kageyama would eventually stop looking his way entirely.
The worst part was that nobody said anything.
Not really.
People noticed. Of course they noticed.
It was impossible not to.
Karasuno's freak duo had gone from reading each other without words to barely looking at each other unless absolutely necessary. The tension sat in the gym like humidity before a storm. Thick. Uncomfortable. Waiting.
But nobody pushed too hard.
Because volleyball still happened.
Practice still went on
Nationals were still on the line.
And nothing is more important than making it to nationals and beating every team that stands at the other side of that net
Kageyama still tossed perfectly to him
Hinata still hit them. But it wasn't the same
And somehow the pretending everything's was normal almost made it worse.
Hinata coasted down the hill toward school the next morning with one hand barely gripping the handlebars of his bike that was probably outdated by now, tie loose around his neck and earbuds hanging uselessly around his shoulders. The air smelled faintly like rain again. Morning sunlight spilled gold across the rooftops, catching on telephone wires overhead.
Karasuno stood at the top of the hill exactly the same as always—old concrete walls, faded windows, the giant staircase leading upward like some dramatic movie entrance.
Hinata usually loved it.
Today he mostly wanted to survive it.
"You look disgusting."
Snapping out of thought Hinata nearly swerved his bike into a pole.
"Jesus—" Hinata snapped, face warming immediately as he shot her an irritated look, slightly flustered by the unexpected comment.
A girl snorted beside him, walking with her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her oversized cardigan. Dark green hair framed big doll-like eyes lined with long lashes—the kind most guys would probably kill to have looking their way—paired with glossy pink lips and a permanently half-awake expression. Completely unimpressed.
Mika Fujimoto had transferred into Karasuno at the start of second year and immediately decided everyone around her was embarrassing.
Especially Hinata.
"You've got eyebags," she continued bluntly. "Did you stay up crying again?"
"I wasn't crying!"
"You literally posted Lana Del Rey lyrics on your Instagram story at two in the morning."
"That doesn't mean anything— and how do you even know that?!"
Hinata waved his arms frantically, completely horrified by the very accurate observation. Mika barely reacted, staring at him with the same unimpressed expression she always wore like his public embarrassment was inconveniencing her personally
"It means you're mentally unstable."
Hinata groaned dramatically, dropping his forehead against the handlebars.
From behind them came a much brighter voice.
"Hinaaaata!"
Another bike nearly crashed into him from the other side.
Hinata yelped as Airi practically attached herself to his arm the second she stopped moving. Unlike Mika, Airi Takahashi seemed physically incapable of existing quietly. She had pink hair clips shaped like stars clipped into her over grown brunette bangs the and somehow treated every single day of school like the beginning of a romantic comedy.
"What happened You look bad dude" she said semi shocked at the orange headed boys appearance
"WHY IS EVERYONE SAYING THAT?"
"Because it's true," Mika replied.
holding a small giggle back while covering her mouth cheekily
Airi leaned closer dramatically. "Did you and Kageyama fight again?"
Hinata froze.
Not visibly. At least he hoped not visibly.
But Airi's eyes widened immediately in victory.
"Yeah you definitely did"
"We didn't fight again," Hinata muttered.
Mika raised an eyebrow. "So you're still fighting from the first fight?."
"That's different."
"That is literally the same thing."
Hinata groaned louder.
The thing was, he didn't even know what to call whatever this had become anymore.
All he felt was anger every-time he thought of volleyball
And that was unbearable.
—
The first years on the team kept looking at him like they were walking on eggshells he's not a bitter person
But man that pissed him off..
Hinata noticed it while changing shoes at his locker. Noticed it during lunch. During class. During morning practice.
People looked at Kageyama and Hinata like they were waiting for something to explode.
They might of been right
Practice started normally enough.
Ukai yelled.
Nishinoya screamed about receives.
Tanaka started flexing for absolutely no reason.
Tsukishima insulted everyone within a five meter radius.
Hinata stretched near the wall, trying very hard not to glance across the gym.
Which naturally meant he became painfully aware of Kageyama almost immediately.
Kageyama stood near the net rolling a volleyball slowly between his palms while listening to something Sugawara was saying. Sleeves pushed up slightly. Dark hair still damp from the rain this morning. Broad Defined shoulders beneath his practice shirt.
More mature.
That was the problem.
Something about second year had changed him slightly. Not enough to make him a different person—he was still blunt and intense and terrifyingly obsessed with volleyball—but sharper somehow. Taller. Quieter.
People listened when he spoke now.
Hinata hated noticing that.
Especially because Kageyama had gotten stupidly popular with the underclassmen recently.
Mostly because of volleyball.
Every practice only reminded Hinata how much farther ahead Kageyama was getting.
Unfortunately.
"Oi."
Hinata snapped upright.
Kageyama stood directly in front of him now, a volleyball tucked beneath one arm.
"When coach says scrimmage today, stop jumping before the toss gets there."
Hinata stared at him.
"That's all you came over here to say?"
Kageyama frowned slightly. "What else would I say?"
Something sharp twisted unpleasantly in Hinata's chest.
God, he hated him.
Didn't he realize what he'd done? Or was Kageyama really self-centered enough not to notice?
"No reason," Hinata muttered.
Kageyama continued staring.
That stupid intense stare.
Like he was analyzing every tiny movement Hinata made. Judging his form. His technique. Every weakness he still hadn't fixed yet.
His face.
His height.
Everything.
Kageyama looked at him with slightly raised brows and that permanent scowl etched across his face. God, Hinata hated when he looked at him like that—like he already had everything figured out. Like he could see straight through him no matter how hard Hinata tried to act normal.
Then Kageyama clicked his tongue softly.
"You're distracted lately."
His voice stayed low and stern as he continued spinning the volleyball lazily on one finger, never breaking eye contact.
Distracted? He has some nerve.
Hinata felt irritation flare hotter in his chest at the thought. Kageyama coughed quietly, clearly waiting for a response.
"I'm not distracted," Hinata shot back quickly.
"You missed three spikes yesterday."
Kageyama said it bluntly, arms crossed loosely over his chest as if he was stating something painfully obvious. The fluorescent gym lights caught against the sharp line of his jaw when he tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing toward Hinata in that irritatingly observant way he always had.
Hinata's grip tightened around the volleyball in his hands.
"Maybe your tosses sucked."
The words came out sharper than intended.
For a second, neither of them moved.
The sounds of practice continued around them—sneakers screeching against polished wood, Nishinoya yelling somewhere across the court, volleyballs slamming against the floor—but the tension between them sat heavy enough that it almost drowned everything else out.
Then Kageyama stepped closer.
Not enough for anyone else to notice.
Enough for Hinata to notice immediately.
His stomach twisted.
"You're still pissed about it aren't you? It's been weeks Hinata get a grip."
There it was.
The thing neither of them had actually talked about properly in weeks.
Hinata's jaw tightened instantly.
Across the gym, Nishinoya visibly perked up like a dog sensing danger.
"Should I be?" Hinata asked flatly, refusing to look away even when Kageyama's expression darkened slightly.
"I already told you—"
"No, you didn't."
"Yes, I did."
"You said he was a better spiker than me."
"Because he is right now."
Hinata felt something hot spark through him so fast it almost made him dizzy.
There it was again.
Again.
Again.
Like Kageyama couldn't understand why saying that hurt.
Or maybe worse—
Maybe he understood perfectly and didn't care.
"You're an asshole," Hinata snapped.
Kageyama's eyes narrowed immediately.
"At least I'm not acting like a child over practice."
"Oh my god," Hinata laughed sharply. "You practiced with another spiker behind everyone's back for weeks!"
"It wasn't behind everyone's back."
"You didn't tell me!"
Kageyama went silent for half a second.
And somehow that silence hurt worse than the argument itself.
Because there it was.
The real problem.
Not volleyball.
Not Hoshiumi.
Not even the stupid comparison.
It was the fact Kageyama hadn't told him.
Hinata had spent years believing their connection on the court meant something different from everyone else's. Something impossible to replace.
Then suddenly Kageyama was setting for another small spiker.
Another player who could fly.
Another player who was already better, more advanced like kageyama
"Hinata" he sighed
"I practiced with whoever I need to get better," Kageyama said bluntly.
"That's just not you anymore."
Hinata flinched slightly.
He was serious there was no sarcasm in that statement Kageyama meant what he said.
He said it
Low. Sharp. Frustrated.
Hinata swallowed hard.
For a second, the entire gym blurred into noise around him—the squeak of shoes against the court, Tanaka yelling somewhere in the background, volleyballs hitting the floor.
None of it mattered.
Because all Hinata could hear was that sentence repeating over and over in his head.
Not you anymore
Before he could answer, Coach Ukai yelled for scrimmage teams.
The moment shattered instantly.
Kageyama stepped back first.
But his eyes lingered for one second too long.
And Hinata hated the fact his pulse jumped because of it.
—
The first time Hinata found out about Hoshiumi had been completely accidental.
Which somehow made everything worse. He had to find out for himself
It happened three weeks earlier after a practice match in Sendai.
Karasuno had stayed later than usual because Nishinoya lost his shoe somehow and Tanaka insisted they couldn't leave without finding it.
The gym had mostly emptied by then.
Hinata remembered standing near the vending machines outside, still sweaty from practice, tilting his head back to drain the last of his sports drink.
That was when he heard Kageyama laughing.
Not a lot.
Just enough to make Hinata pause.
Kageyama didn't laugh often.
Curious, Hinata rounded the corner automatically—
And stopped.
Hoshiumi stood there holding a volleyball beneath one arm while Kageyama leaned against the wall beside him.
Talking.
Casually.
Like this happened often.
Hinata remembered blinking stupidly.
Then Hoshiumi grinned.
"Next week again?"
Kageyama nodded once. "Yeah."
Hinata's stomach dropped instantly.
Next week.
Again.
Again meant this wasn't random.
Again meant this had already happened before.
"What're you guys doing?"
The words left Hinata before he could stop them.
Both of them looked over immediately.
Hoshiumi blinked once.
Kageyama went completely still.
And suddenly the entire atmosphere changed.
Hinata noticed everything at once after that.
The extra volleyball bag beside Kageyama's feet.
The gym reservation paper in Hoshiumi's hand.
The fact Kageyama looked caught.
Which almost hurt more than the actual answer.
"We've been practicing together," Hoshiumi said casually.
Hinata stared.
"You what?"
Kageyama straightened slowly. "It's not a big deal."
Not a big deal.
Hinata remembered the exact moment anger ignited in his chest.
Not fast.
Slow.
Burning.
"You practiced together,?" Hinata repeated.
"For a few weeks," Hoshiumi answered before Kageyama could.
Few weeks.
Few weeks.
Hinata felt suddenly stupid.
Because apparently everyone else had known except him.
"Why?"
Kageyama frowned slightly like the answer was obvious.
"To improve."
"With him?"
Hoshiumi laughed lightly. "What's wrong with me?"
What was wrong with him? I'd watched him compete in multiple matches I'd remember that hair anywhere i remember thinking how he had done the highest jumps I'd seen since I first watched the tiny giant fly that was the problem he was amazing he was naturally talented and driven that's what was wrong with him
"Nothing's wrong with you!"
"Then why are you glaring at me like that?"
"I'm not glaring!"
"You are a little," Hoshiumi admitted.
Hinata's face burned instantly.
Kageyama exhaled slowly through his nose.
"You're being dramatic."
That did it.
Hinata stepped forward immediately. "Dramatic? You didn't tell me!"
"I didn't know I needed permission."
"That's not what I meant!"
"Then what did you mean?"
Hinata opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because honestly?
He didn't know how to explain it.
How did he explain that volleyball with Kageyama had always felt different? That somewhere along the line their rivalry had tangled together so tightly with trust that the idea of Kageyama replacing him—even partially—made something ugly twist inside him?
Especially with Hoshiumi.
Angel little giant Hoshiumi.
Better jumps.
Better technique.
Better control.
Better.
"I just think," Hinata said finally, voice tight, "if you're gonna practice with the competition , maybe tell your teammate first."
Kageyama stared at him for a long moment.
Then—
"He's a lot better than you right now anyway."
Silence.
Complete silence.
Even Hoshiumi looked slightly alarmed. But still smug
Hinata felt like somebody had slammed a volleyball directly into his chest. Way better?
Kageyama seemed to realize it half a second too late.
Because his expression shifted immediately afterward.
But the damage already existed.
Hinata laughed once.
Sharp.
"Oh," he said quietly.
Kageyama frowned. "That's not—"
"No, it's fine."
"Hinata."
"No seriously," Hinata interrupted, stepping backward. "That's cool."
His chest hurt.
Which was stupid.
Because Kageyama had always been honest.
Always brutal.
Always demanding.
So why did this feel different?
Why did it feel personal?
Hinata turned before either of them could stop him.
Behind him he heard Hoshiumi call his name once.
He didn't turn around.
—
Ever since then, everything had been wrong.
Not visibly.
Not enough to completely destroy Karasuno's rhythm.
But enough.
Enough that every toss felt loaded with tension.
Enough that Hinata started staying later after practice alone.
Enough that Kageyama became visibly irritated every time Hinata overworked himself.
Enough that everyone noticed something fractured between them.
The whistle blew sharply across the gym.
Hinata snapped back into the present just in time for Kageyama's toss.
Perfect.
Of course it was perfect.
Even angry, even tense, even barely speaking outside volleyball—
Kageyama still knew exactly where Hinata would jump.
Hinata slammed the ball across the court violently.
Point.
The gym echoed with sneakers squeaking.
Hinata landed hard, chest heaving slightly.
Across the net, Kageyama watched him carefully.
Too carefully.
Like he was trying to read something.
Hinata looked away first.
—
By the time practice ended, rain hammered against the gym windows again.
Everyone complained immediately.
"NOOOO MY HAIR!"
"Noya-san, your hair always looks insane."
"That's intentional!"
Hinata sat on the locker room bench pulling his shirt over his head, exhausted heat still clinging to his skin. The room smelled like sweat and detergent and damp towels. Lockers slammed open and shut around him while voices echoed lazily off the tiled walls.
He reached for his clean shirt—
Then paused.
Kageyama sat two benches away watching him.
Not openly.
But enough.
"What?" Hinata snapped automatically.
Kageyama frowned slightly. "Your shoulder."
Hinata blinked.
"What about it?"
"You've been overusing it."
"I'm fine."
"You missed twice during cross spikes."
"So?"
"So you never miss those. You're going to affect the team."
Hinata's chest tightened unpleasantly.
Because Kageyama noticed everything.
Always.
Even now.
"I said I'm fine."
Kageyama stood.
The locker room suddenly felt smaller.
"You've been practicing after hours again."
Hinata looked away immediately.
"...Maybe."
"You're overdoing it."
"You don't get to tell me that."
The words came out harsher than intended.
Silence fell briefly around them.
Not full silence—Tanaka was still yelling somewhere near the showers—but enough that several teammates glanced over automatically.
Kageyama's expression hardened slightly.
"You think destroying your shoulder's gonna magically make you better than Hoshiumi?"
Hinata stood so fast the bench screeched loudly against the floor.
"Shut up."
"No."
"I said shut up!"
Kageyama stepped closer immediately.
"You're training recklessly."
"And whose fault is that?"
The second the words left his mouth, regret hit.
Not because they weren't true.
Because they were.
Kageyama went completely still.
For half a second neither of them moved.
Then suddenly Kageyama grabbed the front of Hinata's shirt hard enough to wrinkle the fabric between his fists, yanking him forward slightly.
Hinata's breath caught.
The locker room felt suffocatingly warm all at once.
Kageyama went completely still.
For half a second neither of them moved.
Then suddenly Kageyama grabbed the front of Hinata's shirt hard enough to wrinkle the fabric between his fists, yanking him forward slightly.
Hinata's breath caught.
Kageyama was so close Hinata could feel the warmth of his uneven breathing against his face, fingers shaking slightly where they gripped the front of his gym shirt. His jaw looked tense enough to crack.
Hinata refused to look him in the eyes.
Instead he stared somewhere lower, breathing unevenly himself as anger twisted violently in his chest. His hands clenched at his sides before he shoved hard against Kageyama's shoulder.
Kageyama barely moved.
"You think I wanted you to overwork yourself?" Kageyama grunted, voice lower now. Rougher. "And it's not my fault Hoshi's a better player, alright? If you want to be better then be better!"
The words slammed into Hinata harder than the grip on his shirt did.
For a second the locker room blurred around him completely.
All he could focus on was Kageyama standing too close. Breathing too hard. Looking at him like he was frustrated enough to either punch him or shake sense into him.
The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead.
Rain hammered against the windows outside.
Around them, the locker room had gone quieter.
Not silent.
But quieter enough that Hinata could feel everyone pretending not to stare.
Kageyama's face was too close.
Close enough for Hinata to notice the damp strands of dark hair falling messily near his eyes. The tension pulled tight through his jaw. The anger sitting sharp behind every word.
Not loud anger.
Worse.
The kind Kageyama buried down until it came out cold and cutting instead.
Hinata froze.
Something in Kageyama's voice sounded wrong.
Not angry.
Frustrated.
Almost desperate.
Like he was tired of repeating himself and even more tired of not being understood.
The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead.
Rain hammered against the windows outside.
Around them, the locker room had gone quieter.
Not silent.
But quieter enough that Hinata could feel everyone pretending not to stare.
Then suddenly—
"ANYWAY!"
Nishinoya practically launched himself between them holding three towels in the air like weapons.
"Who wants ramen?!" he shouted desperately.
The tension snapped instantly.
Tanaka agreed immediately.
Yamaguchi started laughing awkwardly from across the room.
Tsukishima looked deeply exhausted by all of them.
Kageyama let go of Hinata's shirt first.
Again.
But not before Hinata noticed the frustration still sitting sharp beneath his expression.
Not hatred.
Never hatred.
That was probably the problem.
Because no matter how angry Hinata got, no matter how badly they fought—
Kageyama still looked at him like he was waiting for him to either catch up or fall behind completely.
And Hinata hated that he didn't know which one hurt more.
The rain didn't stop for three days.
By Thursday, the entire city smelled damp.
Wet pavement. Cold air. Rusting bicycle chains left outside too long.
Hinata shoved his hands deeper into the sleeves of his school blazer while climbing the hill toward Karasuno, glaring at the grey sky like it had personally offended him. Puddles gathered in cracks along the sidewalk. Cars hissed past below. Somewhere farther down the street, a convenience store speaker played soft music muffled by rain.
Beside him, Airi held an umbrella decorated with tiny strawberries.
"You look homicidal," she informed him brightly.
"I'm cold."
"You're emotionally unstable."
"That too."
Mika snorted from the other side. "You've talked about Kageyama every morning this week."
"I literally haven't."
"You literally have."
"I said one thing!"
"You called him a emotionally constipated dictator."
"That's not talking about him. That's describing him accurately."
Airi gasped dramatically. "Oooh, enemies."
Hinata groaned.
"You guys are making this weird."
"You made it weird," Mika replied instantly. "You two act divorced."
"We do not act divorced!"
Airi tilted her head thoughtfully. "Actually that's kinda exactly how you act."
Hinata nearly tripped over the curb.
The worst part was they weren't fully wrong.
Not that Hinata would ever admit that out loud.
The thing was, he didn't know how to explain what had changed between him and Kageyama without sounding insane.
Because technically nothing had.
They still practiced together.
Still played together.
Still won games together.
Kageyama's tosses still found him perfectly every single time.
And maybe that was exactly why Hinata felt so angry.
Because if Kageyama was replacing him, then why did he still look at Hinata like that?
Why did he still notice every tiny mistake Hinata made before anyone else did?
Why did he still know exactly how high Hinata would jump before he even moved?
It would've been easier if Kageyama had just stopped caring completely.
Instead, it felt like standing too close to lightning all the time.
Karasuno buzzed louder than usual that morning.
Rain always made everyone restless.
First years crowded hallways with umbrellas dripping water everywhere. Somebody sprinted past carrying forgotten homework. Classroom windows fogged faintly from body heat and humidity.
Hinata dropped into his seat beside Mika with a dramatic sigh.
Immediately, she slid a carton of strawberry milk onto his desk.
He blinked. "What's this?"
"You're annoying when you sulk."
"...Thanks?"
"You're welcome."
Across the room, the classroom door slid open.
And immediately half the noise in Hinata's brain vanished.
Kageyama walked in carrying his bag over one shoulder, tie slightly loose already despite classes barely starting. Rainwater darkened parts of his hair near the edges. He looked tired.
Not exhausted.
Just... off.
Hinata hated that he noticed immediately.
He looked away too late.
Kageyama had already seen him.
For half a second neither moved.
Then Kageyama clicked his tongue softly and looked away first.
Something unpleasant twisted low in Hinata's stomach.
"Wow," Airi whispered from behind him. "that was awkward."
Hinata slammed his face onto the desk.
"I hate all of you."
—
Lunch period was worse.
Mostly because Hinata accidentally overheard Hoshiumi's name.
"...practice match next month..."
"...Kamomedai..."
"...Hoshiumi's receiving got even better..."
Hinata stabbed aggressively at his rice.
Across from him, Mika watched with concern usually reserved for dangerous animals.
"You know murdering people is illegal."
"I'm not murdering anyone."
"You look like you want to."
Airi leaned forward immediately. "If you could beat Hoshiumi in a fight, would you?"
Hinata looked scandalized. "I don't want to fight him!"
"You're glaring at your lunch like it personally insulted your bloodline."
"He's just—"
Hinata stopped himself.
Because what exactly was he supposed to say?
Hoshiumi wasn't even the problem anymore.
Not really.
The problem was the fact Kageyama had looked at another spiker the same way he looked at Hinata during volleyball.
Focused.
Sharp.
Interested.
Like he wanted to understand every movement they made.
Hinata hated how much that memory bothered him.
"You're spiraling again," Mika informed him.
"I'm not spiraling."
"You've been holding your chopsticks in the air for thirty seconds."
Hinata immediately shoved rice into his mouth.
Across the cafeteria, somebody laughed loudly.
Hinata looked up automatically—
And instantly regretted it.
Kageyama sat several tables away with Sugawara and Yamaguchi. He was listening to something Sugawara said with that slight concentrated frown he always wore.
Then Yamaguchi laughed.
And unexpectedly—
Kageyama smiled.
Small.
Brief.
Real.
Hinata stared too long.
Because Kageyama smiled more lately.
Not often.
But more.
Second year suited him in ways Hinata found deeply irritating.
He'd grown broader over the winter. Stronger. More confident. Less frantic in the way he carried himself. Even the first years looked at him differently now—not just like he was talented, but dependable.
Like he belonged at the center of the court.
Hinata suddenly realized he was still staring.
Kageyama looked over.
Their eyes met instantly across the cafeteria.
And there it was again.
That awful electric feeling.
Like every argument between them still sat alive beneath the surface waiting to split open.
Kageyama's expression shifted slightly.
Then his gaze flicked downward.
Hinata frowned.
Before he could figure out why, Kageyama stood up.
A second later someone smacked the back of Hinata's head lightly.
"Idiot."
Hinata spun around.
Tsukishima stood there holding a juice box.
"What was that for?!"
"You were staring."
"I was not!"
"You looked like you were trying to set the cafeteria on fire with your mind."
Airi burst into laughter.
Tsukishima sipped his drink calmly. "It's embarrassing."
Hinata pointed accusingly. "Why are you even here?!"
"Yamaguchi abandoned me for Kageyama."
That shouldn't have annoyed Hinata.
Unfortunately, it did.
Tsukishima noticed immediately because of course he did.
His mouth curved slightly.
"Oh," he drawled softly. "So it's still about that."
Hinata's eye twitched.
"Shut up."
Tsukishima looked delighted now.
"How long are you planning to be dramatic over another setter practicing with someone else?"
"He's MY setter!"
Silence.
Complete silence.
Several nearby students turned slightly.
Hinata froze.
Airi covered her mouth immediately.
Mika looked seconds away from dying.
Tsukishima looked like Christmas had arrived early.
Hinata's face burned alive.
"That is NOT what I meant—"
Tsukishima grinned slowly. "Sure."
"I MEANT VOLLEYBALL-WISE!"
"Mhmm."
"I hate you."
"Obviously not the right person."
Hinata nearly launched himself across the table.
—
Practice that afternoon felt wrong from the second it started.
Not bad.
Wrong.
Like everybody's timing sat half a second off.
Ukai noticed immediately.
"What's with you idiots today?!"
Nobody answered.
Hinata wiped sweat from his forehead breathing harder than usual already. His shoulder ached faintly again beneath repetitive spikes.
Ignore it.
He bounced on his feet waiting for the next toss.
Across the net, Kageyama stared at him.
Again.
Always.
"Hinata!"
The toss flew upward.
Perfect height.
Perfect speed.
Perfect timing.
Hinata jumped.
Pain flashed briefly through his shoulder midair.
His spike slammed into the net.
The gym fell silent for half a second.
Hinata landed hard.
"...Shit."
Across the court, Kageyama's expression darkened instantly.
Ukai blew his whistle sharply.
"What was that?"
"I mistimed it."
"No kidding."
Hinata rolled his shoulder once quickly. "I'm fine."
Kageyama walked toward him immediately.
"You're injured."
"I said I'm fine."
"You're swinging slower."
"Since when can you tell?"
Kageyama stared at him like he'd said something stupid.
"Since always."
The words hit harder than they should have.
Hinata looked away first.
Ukai crossed his arms nearby. "If you're hurt, sit out."
"I'm not hurt."
"Hinata."
"I'm playing."
A tense pause.
Then Ukai sighed heavily. "Fine. But if your form gets worse, you're done."
Hinata nodded immediately.
Practice resumed.
But now Kageyama watched him constantly.
Every toss.
Every landing.
Every swing.
Like he was tracking damage.
It got under Hinata's skin fast.
By the end of practice he was already irritated enough to snap.
"I said stop looking at me like that!"
The words echoed louder than intended.
Several teammates looked over.
Kageyama stood near the net still holding a volleyball. Sweat darkened the collar of his shirt slightly. His expression looked dangerously calm now.
"You're injured."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's obvious."
"It's none of your business."
Something flashed sharply across Kageyama's face.
Then—
"It is my business."
The gym quieted slightly again.
Not fully.
Enough.
Hinata's pulse jumped stupidly.
Kageyama stepped closer.
"If you wreck your shoulder because you're too stubborn to rest, that affects the entire team."
The correction shouldn't have disappointed Hinata.
Unfortunately, it did.
"Right," Hinata muttered. "The team."
Kageyama frowned immediately.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing."
"You're doing it again."
"Doing what?"
"Acting weird."
Hinata laughed once sharply. "Maybe because my setter replaced me."
The second the words left his mouth, regret hit again.
Not because they were false.
Because they sounded too honest.
Kageyama went completely still.
Around them, Nishinoya slowly backed away from the blast zone.
"I didn't replace you," Kageyama said quietly.
"Sure."
"I didn't."
"Then why Hoshiumi?"
Kageyama's jaw tightened.
"Because he pushes me."
Hinata's chest twisted painfully.
"Yeah," he said softly. "I figured."
Something changed in Kageyama's expression instantly.
Frustration.
Real frustration.
"That's not what I meant."
"Then explain it better!"
"I shouldn't have to explain volleyball to you!"
"And maybe you shouldn't compare me to other spikers then!"
Silence cracked sharply between them.
Hinata's breathing felt uneven suddenly.
God.
He hated this.
Hated how every conversation between them turned into something raw and ugly now.
Kageyama stared at him for a long moment.
Then finally—
"You think I practiced with him because I wanted to play with someone else?"
Hinata looked away immediately.
"...Didn't you?"
"No."
The answer came too fast.
Too sharp.
And suddenly the gym felt smaller again.
Kageyama took another step closer.
"You're an idiot."
Hinata glared. "Excuse me?"
"I practiced with Hoshiumi because he plays differently than you."
That somehow hurt worse.
"Oh, great."
"If you're angry because he's better," Kageyama said bluntly, "then get better."
Hinata froze.
The gym seemed quieter now.
Not silent.
But distant somehow.
Kageyama looked angry.
Actually angry.
Not cold.
Not annoyed.
Frustrated in a way Hinata couldn't untangle.
"You think I'd waste time chasing after another version of you?" Kageyama snapped quietly. "That's stupid."
Hinata's heartbeat stumbled strangely.
Because that—
That sounded almost—
No.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
Before he could respond, Ukai yelled for cleanup duty.
The moment shattered instantly again.
But this time, when Kageyama walked away—
Hinata couldn't stop replaying the words in his head.
If you're angry because he's better then get better.
—
That night the city glowed gold beneath rainwater.
Hinata biked home later than usual after staying behind for extra serves. His shoulder throbbed faintly now. Streetlights reflected off puddles in blurred halos. Apartment windows glowed warm overhead.
He should go home.
Instead, his bike turned automatically toward the gym again.
Karasuno looked different at night.
Quieter.
The massive building loomed dark against cloudy skies, windows reflecting pale orange city light. The gym lights were off.
Except—
Hinata slowed.
One light still glowed faintly inside.
His stomach dropped immediately.
Of course.
Of course Kageyama was here.
Hinata should leave.
Instead, he parked his bike quietly.
The gym doors creaked softly when he pushed them open.
Inside, the air smelled familiar.
Wood polish.
Dust.
Sweat lingering faintly in the floorboards.
A volleyball hit the court hard somewhere ahead.
Then another.
Hinata stepped farther inside slowly.
Kageyama stood alone near the net.
Practice shirt clinging slightly to his back with sweat. Sleeves pushed up. One volleyball tucked under his arm while another rolled across the floor nearby.
He looked up immediately.
Their eyes met across the empty gym.
And suddenly the silence felt enormous.
Neither spoke at first.
Rain tapped softly against high windows overhead.
Kageyama finally frowned slightly. "Why are you here?"
Hinata crossed his arms automatically. "Could ask you the same thing."
"I asked first."
"Can't sleep."
Kageyama stared for another second.
Then tossed him a volleyball.
Hinata caught it automatically.
And there it was again.
That terrifying instinct between them.
Kageyama turned back toward the net. "You shouldn't be practicing."
"My shoulder's fine."
"You're a bad liar."
Hinata rolled his eyes.
Still—
He stayed.
The gym lights cast long shadows across the polished floor. Outside, rain softened the entire city into blurry gold and grey. Somewhere distant, thunder rumbled faintly.
Kageyama bounced another volleyball once.
"Jump."
Hinata blinked. "What?"
"Your form's getting sloppy because you're compensating for your shoulder."
"You noticed that?"
Kageyama looked at him flatly.
Hinata immediately regretted asking.
"...Right."
Another toss flew upward suddenly.
Perfect.
Instinct moved faster than thought.
Hinata jumped.
The spike cracked loudly through the empty gym.
And for one split second—
Everything felt normal again.
The connection.
The timing.
The impossible trust.
Hinata landed hard breathing unevenly.
Kageyama caught another volleyball calmly.
Again.
Hinata stared at him.
Then jumped.
Again.
Outside, rain hammered endlessly against the city.
Inside the empty gym, the distance between them somehow felt smaller than it had in weeks.