Chapter Text
The gym smelled like sweat, rubber, and old wood polish.
Yamaguchi had spent enough years inside gyms to find the scent comforting.
Most people probably wouldn't.
Most people also probably didn't associate the squeak of shoes against hardwood with home.
"Captain!"
Yamaguchi blinked, pulled from his thoughts as one of Karasuno's first years jogged toward him holding a clipboard.
"The manager said she needs the practice lineup."
"Ah, right, sorry."
He accepted the clipboard quickly, offering the boy an apologetic smile. The first year straightened immediately under the attention.
It was strange.
That still felt strange.
People listened to him now.
Not because he was standing next to Tsukishima. Not because he was friends with Hinata and Kageyama, the monsters who had dragged Karasuno all the way to nationals and beyond.
Not because he happened to survive on the same court as them.
People listened because he was the captain.
The realization still sat oddly in his chest some days.
Not uncomfortable.
Just... heavy.
Important.
The first year lingered a second too long before bowing slightly and hurrying off again.
Yamaguchi looked down at the clipboard in his hands.
Captain.
The word still startled him sometimes.
From the other side of the gym, Hinata called out, "You spacing out again?"
Yamaguchi laughed sheepishly. "Sorry!"
"Don't apologize for existing challenge: impossible," Tsukishima muttered from where he was stretching against the wall.
Yamaguchi stuck his tongue out automatically.
Tsukishima didn't even look at him when the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
It made warmth bloom in Yamaguchi's chest anyway, some things never changed.
Practice ended nearly three hours later.
By the time the final whistle blew, everyone looked half-dead.
Hinata would have called this "the sweet spot."
Tsukishima looked like he wanted to collapse face-first onto the floor.
Honestly, Yamaguchi wasn't far behind him.
"Good work today!" he called, clapping his hands together.
The team immediately echoed the phrase back.
Again.
People listened to him.
The thought hit differently this time.
Because the entire gym fell silent when he spoke.
The first years looked at him expectantly while gathering volleyballs.
Even the second years paused conversations to hear what he had to say next.
Yamaguchi swallowed.
"We've got practice matches next week, so don't slack off on conditioning," he continued. "And please remember Coach Ukai isn't joking about morning runs."
A collective groan rose from the gym.
Yamaguchi grinned.
Then he noticed it.
The attention.
The way everyone's eyes stayed on him.
Waiting.
Listening.
For a brief second, something electric sparked beneath his skin.
Like standing under bright lights.
Like the rush right before a serve.
Like importance.
His chest tightened.
Not with anxiety.
With excitement.
"You're smiling weirdly."
Yamaguchi nearly jumped out of his skin.
Tsukishima stood beside him outside the gym doors, headphones hanging loosely around his neck.
"Tsukki! You scared me!"
"You scare easily."
"You do it on purpose."
Tsukishima shrugged, which was absolutely a yes.
The evening air was cool against Yamaguchi's flushed skin as they started walking home together.
Their steps fell naturally into rhythm.
Years of habit.
"So?" Tsukishima asked after a moment.
"So what?"
"You've had that creepy smile for like ten minutes."
"It's not creepy!"
"It's unsettling."
Yamaguchi huffed dramatically.
Tsukishima adjusted the strap of his bag.
Then, quieter:
"You happy about something?"
The teasing tone faded just enough for Yamaguchi's stomach to flutter.
Because Tsukishima always noticed.
Even when Yamaguchi didn't say anything.
"...Maybe."
"What is it?"
Yamaguchi hesitated.
The answer felt embarrassing somehow.
"I think..." He laughed nervously. "I think I like being captain."
Tsukishima blinked once.
Then again.
"Aren't you supposed to?"
"I don't know! I just mean..."
Yamaguchi struggled for the words.
"I like when everyone listens."
The confession hung awkwardly between them.
Tsukishima stared.
Yamaguchi immediately panicked.
"Not in a weird power-trip way!" he blurted. "I don't mean it like that! I just..."
He groaned, covering his face.
"I sound awful."
"You always sound awful."
"Tsukki."
Tsukishima snorted softly.
Then, after a moment:
"You don't mean controlling people."
Yamaguchi peeked through his fingers.
"I don't?"
"No."
Tsukishima looked ahead as they crossed the street.
"You like being heard."
The words struck Yamaguchi silent.
Because that was exactly it.
Not obeyed.
Not feared.
Heard.
Seen.
Like his voice mattered.
"Oh," Yamaguchi said quietly.
Tsukishima hummed.
And just like that, Yamaguchi felt understood all over again.
A week later, Karasuno won nationals.
The gym exploded into noise.
Hinata cried openly.
Kageyama looked seconds away from passing out.
Coach Ukai looked like he might actually smile for once.
And Yamaguchi...
Yamaguchi stood frozen in the center of it all.
National champions.
Karasuno High School.
National champions.
The words didn't feel real.
Cameras flashed around them.
Reporters crowded closer.
Microphones.
Questions.
Noise.
So much noise.
Then someone shoved a microphone toward him.
"As captain, could you say a few words?"
Yamaguchi's heart stopped.
A few years ago, he would've panicked.
Stuttered.
Frozen completely.
Now?
The microphone settled comfortably in his hand.
Thousands of eyes turned toward him.
Waiting.
Listening.
The same electric feeling from the gym returned instantly.
Stronger this time.
Brighter.
Yamaguchi smiled.
And spoke.
Later that night, the team crowded into a restaurant overflowing with noise and exhaustion.
Everyone talked over one another.
Except Tsukishima.
Tsukishima sat beside Yamaguchi quietly sipping his drink while the chaos unfolded around them.
"You were good earlier."
Yamaguchi looked up from his food.
"Hm?"
"The interview."
"Oh."
Heat crawled into his cheeks immediately.
"I was rambling."
"You weren't."
Tsukishima poked lazily at his rice.
"You sounded confident."
The compliment hit embarrassingly hard.
Yamaguchi ducked his head slightly.
"Thanks."
A comfortable silence settled between them.
Then Nishinoya, who had joined their celebratory dinner with Tanaka and Shimizu, slammed both hands onto the table dramatically.
"TADASHI SHOULD BE FAMOUS."
The entire restaurant turned to stare.
Tanaka pointed aggressively. "I KNOW!."
"HE LOOKED COOL."
"LIKE A CELEBRITY."
"He should be an actor!"
"No, wait, a model!"
Yamaguchi nearly choked.
Hinata gasped suddenly.
"Oh my god wait."
Everyone turned toward him fearfully.
Because that tone usually meant disaster.
Hinata pointed directly at Yamaguchi.
"You'd totally be a singer."
The table erupted immediately.
"Oh my god he WOULD."
"He has the hair for it."
"The aesthetic."
"The mysterious vibe."
"What mysterious vibe?" Tsukishima muttered.
Yamaguchi laughed nervously, waving his hands.
"No way."
But the idea lingered.
Quietly.
Dangerously.
That night, Yamaguchi couldn't sleep.
Moonlight spilled across his bedroom floor while he stared at the ceiling.
A singer.
Ridiculous.
Completely ridiculous.
His phone screen glowed softly beside him.
Without thinking much about it, Yamaguchi reached over and plugged in his headphones.
Music filled the silence immediately.
J-rock.
Loud guitars.
Powerful vocals.
Emotion pouring through every lyric.
Yamaguchi closed his eyes.
He imagined standing under stage lights.
Crowds cheering.
People listening because they wanted to hear him.
Because his voice meant something.
His chest tightened painfully.
Not with fear.
With want.
The realization terrified him.
Because volleyball had always been the dream.
Hadn't it...
Hadn't it?
The next afternoon, Yamaguchi found Tsukishima at the music store near the station.
Well.
Found was a strong word.
Tsukishima worked there part-time.
Mostly because "customers avoid talking to me."
His words.
Not Yamaguchi's.
The bell above the door chimed softly as Yamaguchi entered.
Tsukishima glanced up from behind the counter.
"You're here."
"Observant."
"You usually text first."
Yamaguchi leaned against the counter.
Tsukishima narrowed his eyes immediately.
"Oh no."
"What?"
"That face means you're about to say something weird."
"I do not make weird faces."
"You absolutely do."
Yamaguchi inhaled deeply.
Then—
"What would you think if I said I wanted to make music?"
Silence.
Tsukishima stared at him blankly.
The store speakers hummed softly overhead.
Yamaguchi suddenly wanted to evaporate.
"Forget I said anything—"
"I wouldn't be surprised."
Yamaguchi blinked.
"What?"
Tsukishima shrugged lightly.
"You like attention."
"I do not,"
"You literally admitted it last week."
"That's not..."
"You like making people listen."
Yamaguchi opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
Because Tsukishima wasn't wrong.
"Music fits you," Tsukishima said simply.
Like it was obvious, like Yamaguchi wasn't suggesting something impossible. Something terrifying or life-changing.
Yamaguchi stared at him.
"...Really?"
Tsukishima looked vaguely offended.
"Why ask if you're going to doubt my answer?"
Yamaguchi laughed weakly.
"Gomen, Tsukki"
"You also sing constantly."
"I do not constantly sing."
Tsukishima gave him a look.
Yamaguchi paused.
"...Okay maybe a little."
"A lot."
When Yamaguchi left the music store that evening, his heart felt impossibly loud.
The city buzzed around him.
Cars.
Voices.
Train announcements.
Music spilling from open storefronts.
And for the first time in a long time, he wondered if maybe volleyball wasn't the only dream he was allowed to have.
Maybe there could be another, maybe there could be more.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
Tsukki 🌙🦖:
if you become famous don't get annoying
Yamaguchi burst out laughing right there on the sidewalk.
Tadashi:
too late :)
The typing bubble appeared immediately.
Tsukki🌙🦖:
true
Yamaguchi smiled so hard his cheeks hurt.
Then he looked up at the evening sky.
And for the first time,
The future didn't scare him.
It sounded exciting.