Chapter Text
He slings his backpack over his right shoulder then places his pink and white duffel bag over the left and springs towards the library. His strides are quick and wide as he goes through the hallway and out to school ground where the warm afternoon breeze greets his already flushed skin.
Everything is doused in orange light from the setting sun and he makes a quick glance at his watch just to confirm the information he has been avoiding because...
For the third time that week, Kenjiro Shirabu is late for practice, again.
It’s bad enough that he already missed the morning practice that day, now he also missed their afternoon jog. He’ll never hear the end of it from Goshiki. That damn first year.
He hopes against all hopes that their coach didn’t notice his absence, but of course that would be impossible because the bakemono never misses anything--particularly if any of the team members slack off at practice. Especially the regulars.
But Shirabu hasn’t been slacking off. He knows better than to do something as stupid as that. Being the only regular player who didn’t get in the school with a sports scholarship, he is well aware that he isn’t the best player in their team.
He isn’t a genius, that much he has to say. He also doesn’t have exceptional skills to make up for his lack of height, power and strength that most of the regular players in their team have.
If anything, he might be one of the most passive setter in their prefecture. But he is smart. He knows how to utilize the strengths of his teammates and as a setter, isn’t that the most important thing? He figures he doesn’t really need the limelight. He only needs to do one thing and he will be useful so whatever insecurities running in his system, he pushes them aside, because at the very least he gets to set for…
Ushijima-san.
He sees their captain and ace player by the gate trotting his way back from the afternoon jog -- which Shirabu totally missed . When he stops by the gate to catch his breath, Shirabu’s breath also catches in his throat. Ushijima pulls out the earphones from both ears and wipes at the sweat forming on his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket.
Shirabu just watches him from afar, admiring his height, his built and really, just his overpowering presence inside or outside the court. The black muscle top shirt is drenched with sweat and Shirabu is half-sure that his captain, once again, left the rest of their team behind. Their coach has often told them to not waste energy on afternoon jogs because it’s only supposed to warm them up , but as always, Ushijima seems to think otherwise. That’s normal. Everything Ushijima does has always been intense.
Ushijima scans the empty school ground and Shirabu reflexively dodges behind the nearest vending machine, hoping the captain doesn’t notice him.
It’s stupid, really . Even if he’s late for the afternoon jog and for the last two consecutive practices, it isn’t like his captain to call him out on it. Unlike their coach, Ushijima isn’t the type to make a big deal out of things like these unless it begins to affect your performance. Probably for Shirabu… as long as he keeps those tosses coming, Ushijima wouldn’t even bat an eye on his tardiness.
Sometimes he wishes, he cared enough to call him out on it, though. Shirabu almost gagged at the thought as he shakes his head trying to erase the vile idea in his head while a blush rises to his cheeks because the truth is…
He’s in love with him.
His face suddenly feels hot now as he begins a slow descend beside the machine he’s been hiding and onto the concrete, which also feels hot to the touch, by the way. He clamps a hand over his mouth, afraid that the thundering of his heart would escape from his lips and carried off to the man who is standing a few feet away from him.
Ushijima’s presence is the reason why he has been attending practices late. It has been tradition in their team--Tendou’s actually--to engage in small talk at the lockers before practice starts. He used to like those times, now, he hates them .
He can’t talk to their captain, now, without actively blushing and he can’t even look him in the eye which is really just pathetic. But maybe, realizing the crush you harbored over someone back when he barely knew you has transformed into something much more complicated like unrequited love, nobody can really blame bim if he feels a little bit awkward. Right?
Not that, he will act on it, anyway. He is content with admiring and loving him from afar if it meant he could be his teammate for the remainder of his last year, no matter how bitter that simple fact tasted in his mouth.
“So cool!!! Their school is so big!!!” A loud screeching voice yelps from where Ushijima was standing.
“Oh no, we lost Ushiwaka-san!”
At the mention of his name, Shirabu Is on his feet again. He peeks from the vending machine and notices two people who are obviously not from their school, if their uniforms are to be considered. A small boy, probably a middle schooler, with orange hair is standing beside a taller guy with the blackest hair he has ever seen and an intense glare resting on his equally powerful looking face.
Shirabu flinches at how the taller guy, albeit looking younger, reminds him of how Ushijima looks when he’s serious in a match.
“This is your fault, Hinata-boke!”
“How is this my fault?”
“You got distracted by the horses, dumbass!”
“So were you!”
Shirabu stares at them with disbelief. Who are these people and what do they want with Ushijima? Are they his friends? No, that’s impossible. Shirabu can’t even imagine their captain associating with such a rowdy pair. Must be his fans? Probably, yes.
He decides to help them because they look terribly lost but before he could come up to them and offer his assistance, the taller guy, who is apparently called Kageyama (which by the way sounds terribly familiar) gets the bright idea to follow the signs littered around their school.
They’re gone even before he emerges from his hiding place.
“Yoh, Kenjiro!” Shirabu looks around to find their middle blocker, Tendou Satori walking towards his direction, one hand raised and the other inside his pocket. His red spiky hair, has caught the orange sunlight and it glows vehemently against the light.
“Tendou-san.” Shirabu briefly bows to acknowledge his senpai when he reached the vending machine. Tendou takes a few coins from his pocket, slipping it inside the coin slots of the machine.
“Did you just come back from the run?” Shirabu asks as Tendou taps a finger lightly on his chin while contemplating on his choice of drink. He turns to Shirabu and gives him that usual unnerving grin before answering casually, “I skipped it.”
Shirabu doesn’t respond and just gapes at him. It is unusual for his senpais to miss any training, but then again, this is Tendou we’re talking about--yes, he is talented, but he can be really devious, if not creepy most of the time.
Tendou pushes the button on his choice-- chocolate milkshake not before whining how they are not putting chocolate ice cream in vending machines inside their school because apparently there are “thousands of them and why can’t they just make one that would sell ice creams only?”
Shirabu doesn’t react because with Tendou, one can never tell if he is being serious or not. He just finds it amusing, in a way.
“So, what’s up with you stalking Ushiwaka?”
Shirabu blinks. Tendou stares at him knowingly with those large, downturned eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
Shirabu opens his mouth to speak but his heart is beating so fast, he couldn’t form any coherent syllable, even more words. His mind has been assaulted by a barrage of questions: How did he know? I’m sure I wasn’t being obvious but why… how?
Tendou gives him a sly smile, “From the way you’re blushing, I guess I let the cat out of the bag.”
“I… I don’t know what you are talking about.” He finally finds his tongue, again. But apparently, not the courage to look at his senpai’s leering gaze.
Tendou chuckles and the sound is enough for Shirabu to wish that the ground would just open up and swallow him right now. “You don’t have to be defensive and deny it. I won’t tell anyone, Kenjiro-chan ” The name riles something inside him and he looks up to
see Tendou still with that ear-splitting grin, “Especially not your Ushiwaka.”
Shirabu takes a few deep breaths to calm his thundering heart. When he feels like he can talk again without stuttering, he musters up all his courage and says, “I seriously don’t understand what you mean.” His voice is strong and it surprises Tendou but he just proceeds in picking up his bags, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get to practice.”
He walks away without turning back. His steps towards the gym are big and heavy but he doesn’t care. He grips the strap of his gym bag on his shoulders too tight until his knuckles turn to white. When he reaches the gym, he stops abruptly upon seeing the two guys at the gate talking to Ushijima.
He doesn’t like to eavesdrop, because really, he isn’t interested with whatever they are talking about. Probably about Ushijima giving them fansigns or what . But he stops in his tracks when he hears a familiar name being called out.
“Oikawa, he’s a good setter. He should have come to Shiratorizawa.”
It’s like he has been slapped in the face… no, more of punched squarely in the jaw. Everything inside him turns cold and he finds himself trembling. But he continues listening as Ushijima tells the two guys how Oikawa could have brought out the best in any team he belongs to, no matter how strong or weak they are because that is his talent .
He slowly backs away from the three just to keep away from hearing distance and so he could just mute the words, now. But he also knows that they are too late because up until now, Ushijima is still obsessing about that pretty setter from their rival school and the thought of it just hurts . Fucking, stupid, goddamn hurts like hell.
He should have come to Shiratorizawa. It isn’t the first time he’s heard that phrase. He has heard that whenever they play them in the court, he hears them whenever they watch a match of that team and the Oikawa sets an incredibly amazing play effortlessly. He hears it all the time and he’s just fucking tired of it .
The first time he saw Ushijima play was in middle school, against Kitagawa Daiichi. The first time he saw the power and the athletic instinct by the wing spiker, he was mesmerized. Back then, he knew immediately that he wanted to stand in the court with him. Which is why even when he didn’t get an athletic recommendation from their school, he took the exams and passes it because of his good grades.
When he joined the volleyball club, he learned that synching with Ushijima nor the rest of the team isn’t going to be as easy as he imagined. But this didn’t stop him. He continued practicing twice as hard as anybody in the team because he knew, he isn’t as talented or as gifted as the rest of them, but all the things he lacked, he could make up with hard work.
When he became the official setter and replaced his senpai, he could never be happier. Finally, finally, he was able to stand in the same court as Ushijima, wear the same uniform… set the ball for him.
But of course, that isn’t enough.
When they played Aoba Johsai, and won… he found Ushijima talking to the other team’s setter after the match. You should have come to our school. But you let your pride get in the way .
The setter merely gave Ushijima a chuckle and just walked away towards their team’s wing spiker who was waiting for him, tapping his foot impatiently as the two of them talked.
He is a good setter. Shirabu knows that, already. He brings out the best in his team. So why?
“We’re going to Tokyo to beat them.” Shirabu looks up and stares as the duo walks past him.
They look suddenly different now. Their faces are stern, their expressions more serious than before and their voices sound definitely calmer than the first time he saw them. They see him and the orange-haired kid, as if remembering his manners, looks a bit embarrassed and gives him a quick bow.
Kageyama, however, merely gives him a side glance before he turns back to the smaller guy. But even that quick glance is enough to unnerve Shirabu because it awfully looks familiar. Or maybe because it looks terribly similar to Ushijima’s. Here he goes again. Why does he have to relate this kid to their captain?
“Let’s race back, Kageyama?”
“You’re on, Hinata-boke.”
He notices their white shirts, and sees the grey letters printed on their left chest: Karasuno High School. He realized immediately why the guy seemed familiar. He has watched some of his matches back in middle school. The setter from Kitagawa Daichii, Oikawa’s kouhai, Karasuno’s genius setter. The king of the court.
He watches as the pair engages in a race and disappears through the gates of their school.
He smiles bitterly to himself. Another setter. The genius setter people are talking about. I’m pushed one step back, again.
He takes a deep breath to steady himself. He looks down at his watch. Already an hour late. He probably should just skip practice since he’s not in the mood anyway. His coach will most likely rat him out again tomorrow, but he just can’t face Ushijima today.
Not after what he said. It’s pathetic, he knows. It’s not like he could do anything about it. Ushijima is a talented player, and it is obvious that he would want to be teammates with someone as talented as him. Shirabu isn’t one of them. He has long accepted that. But why does it still hurt like hell when the truth gets shoved down your throat?
This is going nowhere, he is well aware of that. It isn’t like he is jealous of Oikawa’s talent or Kageyama’s genius. It is more of, he is envious of the things they have which he will never, ever have. Like for example, Ushijima’s respect?
Of course, he won’t directly admit that. He won’t even tell their captain about his true feelings because really, what’s the point? It isn’t like he would do something about it. He would probably not even care. He’s a teammate. He’s essential to winning. Ushijima hates losing so much, he’d probably just shrug off Shirabu’s feelings, all his affection and insecurities away and move on to the next available talented setter.
He is replaceable. What made him think otherwise?
He takes out his phone to send a message to his coach and lie about not feeling well when it buzzes to life.
He checks it and his heart skips a beat when he sees who sent him a message.
FROM: Ushijima-san
SUBJECT: practice
Where are you? Don’t miss practice today.
Shirabu grips the phone in a vice-like grip, shutting his eyes tight and willing himself not to let the tirade of emotions fall as tears from his eyes. They sting like hell.
He should have come to Shiratorizawa. Bullshit. Open your eyes and notice that it was me. It was me who came to your goddamn school to stand beside you in the court. It was me, you insufferable bastard.
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