Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It's not hard to tell them apart. Really.

Shouyou's hair is an orange mop, sticking up in every direction. Natsu uses bobby pins, she really does try to keep it neater. Shouyou smiles more often, he's louder, he waves his hands for emphasis. Natsu talks more, spirals into hard-to-follow rants about whatever's on her mind. She gets more freckles every summer, and he has a year-round sock tan. 

Shouyou is warm and blinding and close like the sun. Natsu is a shining spectacle out of reach, a scattering of stars at night. Shouyou is a bundle of energy, fire condensed into a small, beaming package, and his sister, his other half, his twin, is a swell of possibilities, fearlessly yearning towards the dark unknown.

Now, that sounds well and good enough, but at first glance, it’s certainly not what anyone notices. What they notice is the three centimeter height difference; Shouyou’s child-like energy, and assume Natsu must be a few years ahead of him. In reality, their age difference is counted in minutes, not years.

What matters most to Shouyou and Natsu about telling them apart, however, is the fact that Shouyou plays volleyball and Natsu plays soccer. Completely different sports. Zero overlap.

And being asked about the wrong sport drives them both crazy.

“Did you get any points today, Nacchan?” Mom will ask, and Natsu will let her face fall directly into her curry in dismay.

“No, mom, I didn’t score any goals,” Natsu sighs each time.

“So did you find any friends to be a striker with you, Shouyou?” Dad will inquire, trying and failing to be more excited about his son’s interests.

“It’s called a spiker, and a setter,” Shouyou replies patiently, feeling his heart break a little more each time. Yes, there’s a net in both sports, but that’s the only similarity he or Natsu can see.

“That high school you picked, I think your team was in nationals last year, right?” A dear uncle makes conversation when he visits, oblivious sipping on a cup of tea while his nephew chokes on air.

“Eh?” Shouyou’s heart jumps right into his mouth before he catches Natsu’s sympathetic head shake. “Ah, you’re thinking of Natsu’s school. Their volleyball team actually went to nationals more recently than Karasuno.” He can see the question forming in his uncle’s eyes and leaps on an explanation before it can be voiced. “I-I chose Karasuno because of their playing style! When they went to nationals, there was this shorter player they nicknamed the Little Giant, and so…”

He sees the glazed-over look that most people get when he tries to explain, but forges on anyway. Natsu receives the same uninterested head-nodding acknowledgement, after all, whenever she tries to tell her junior high friends she’s going so far for high school because she got in on a sports scholarship, so no, she won’t be skipping any weekend practices to go to the movies this year.

“Do you think you’ll make the starting roster this year?” Shouyou wonders, the night before their first semester of high school begins. They have separate rooms but they’re huddled in Natsu’s room tonight, trying to talk away the jitters before it consumes them both.

Natsu shrugs, looking pensively at the hem of her sleeve. “They have a huge team, but I heard a rumor that the coach hardly uses any of their subs. She’d rather not disrupt the chemistry of the players, even if it means running them into the ground.” Shouyou’s eyes widen at the idea, a little unnerved by how ruthless his sister’s future coach might be—and yet Natsu’s eyes flash with fervor. “I’m definitely going to be a starter. I’ll do anything.”

“Me too,” Shouyou grins toothily. “I’m going to be the ace!”

“I’ll be the captain,” Natsu promises.

“Uuwoooahh, Natsu, you talk big!”

“Oh, and you don’t, Mr. Shrimpy Ace?”

Shouyou gasps in horror. “Betrayed by my own blood! Get out of my sight, I can’t look at you right now.”

“You get out,” Natsu cackles, placing her foot against his chest firmly shoving him right off the futon. “This is my room!”

Shouyou bounces to his feet in a flutter of blankets and stuffed animals. “You’re right! I better get to bed, I have to leave early—goodnight, Natsu.”

“Good luck,” she responds warmly, flopping back onto her pillow. Shouyou lobs a cat-shaped pillow at her head. “Karasuno’s volleyball team won’t know what hit ‘em!”

“Neither will Shiratorizawa’s soccer team,” her brother calls back, sliding her door shut. A moment later she hears a loud thud. “ACK!” Shouyou hollers, probably knocking over his bookbag. Natsu giggles, and falls asleep with a smile on her face

While Shouyou has an hour-long bike ride to his school, Natsu has a thirty-minute bus ride to the Academy’s ridiculously large campus in the capital of Miyagi. She wanders around on her first day, not only because oh my gosh those fields are pristine, but because she soon realizes that she can’t figure out where the main building is.

“Oh no,” Natsu mumbles, backtracking to the last posted sign she’d read. It says the academic buildings are to the left, but isn’t that a gym? Or maybe an auditorium. Natsu cranes her head to the side. Is it behind the auditorium? She has a morning practice that starts in another fifteen minutes, but it’d be nice to know where her class will be… Suddenly, she was struck by a deep sense of melancholy. This is the first time she and Shouyou will be in different schools. They’re often separated into different classes, but Shouyou’s always been within reach. Now, she’s alone at a high-pressure academy and no friends to lean on. She can’t even find her classroom without Shouyou’s steady support at her back.

“They shoulda sent a map with the uniform!” Natsu huffs, throwing her hands in the air.

Suddenly there’s firm pressure on Natsu’s shoulders and she’s whirled around. “A map? Do you have a map?!” Someone demands desperately, clutching her arms and looming over her with dark, guileless eyes. “Please tell me you have a map, I’m late for practice!”

Natsu, frightened out of her wits, takes in his frantic expression, the gym bag over his shoulder, the knee pads sliding down his legs, and shrieks in shared terror. “Late for volleyball practice?! It’s the first day!”

“I knooow!” He wails, practically shaking as he releases her. He leans back, and Natsu gets a better look at his lean, tall form. Definitely a volleyball player. His black hair, cut into a severe bowl-cut, is a mess of fluff as he runs another nervous hand over his scalp. Dark brown eyes beseech her. “Please help me, I have to make a good impression!”

Natsu whips her head back and forth, thinking fast. “Which gym?” She asks sternly.

“Huh?” The student looks at her with wide, hopeful eyes. “Oh! Um, Gym Four! Have you seen it?!”

She lets out a huge sigh of relief, and nods furiously. “I did! It’s back that way—the building with a big circle window pointing east!” Natsu stabs her hand in the proper direction.

“REALLY?!” The boy seems near tears, he’s so relieved. “Thank you! I gotta go!”

“Go!” Natsu ushers him away with a wave. “Good luck!!” She calls after his sprinting figure.

He doesn’t say anything back, but Natsu doesn’t mind. She grins anyway, swiveling back around towards the track and adjusting the strap of her bag. The soccer team is collecting on the corner of the field, still chatting amongst themselves. Natsu jogs over with a bright, hopeful smile. “Yo! Good morning everyone!”

pic:

Chapter Text

An hour later, Natsu drags herself out of the locker room and slinks off to class four, utterly exhausted. So many sprints. Are my legs even legs anymore?

Morning practice had been ruthless. They never even touched the ball. It was all conditioning, run after run, drill after drill. Natsu kept up, but next to the third years she looked like a limp noodle by the time they wrapped up. She did have the sense to ask her senpai for directions to class, thankfully, and slumps into the classroom with a few minutes to spare before the bell.

Just as her eyes begin to droop and Natsu becomes more and more convinced she can squeeze in a catnap, a blunt poke to her shoulder heaves her back into consciousness. “Huhh?” Natsu murmurs, squinting over her right shoulder.

“Ah, hi again,” a deep voice greets her tentatively. Natsu blinks a few times, slowly recognizing the uneven black hair and dark brown eyes. “Sorry to wake you…”

“Uwah! Volleyball!” Natsu strings together the facts in a daze, but her eyes light up in elation.

He seems pleased enough by her recognition, and a small, amused smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah, I’m on the volleyball team,” he confirms, reaching a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I just wanted to thank you for earlier.”

“Didja get in trouble?” Natsu’s brow furrows in concern. “Were you late?”

“Ah, only by a minute, but Washijo is a strict coach,” he admits with a slight wince. He begins to rub at his chin, which she notices is a little pinker than it should be. “We all started with a 100 dives, but I had to do 150.”

“Ouch,” Natsu says sympathetically.

“It’s okay,” he says emphatically, “That just means I’ll be that much better at diving! Seriously, though, if I were any later it would’ve looked very bad—so thank you, really!”

“Of course,” Natsu smiles happily, glad he’s still so positive about the team. Shiratorizawa’s volleyball team had a well-known reputation for having one of the most demanding coaches in their league, so Natsu really had been just as worried as the actual student had felt for running late. It was beginning to look like her own coach operated similarly.

“Um,” he murmurs, drawing her eye again. But his gaze flitters to the ground as soon as she looks up. “I’m—” he makes an aborted move to stand up (To do what? Bow at her?!), but thinks better of it since they’re both already seated at their desks. Instead he thrusts forward a long, tanned hand at the orange-haired girl. “Goshiki Tsutomu, it’s a pleasure to meet you!”

Natsu beams, quickly giving his hand a firm shake. “Hinata Natsu! Nice to meet you, Goshiki-kun!”

Goshiki seems pleased, though a little flustered by the volume of her voice. “Hinata-san,” he says nervously, “I was wondering… Do you play volleyball too? Are you on the girls’ team?”

On this one occasion, she will forgive Goshiki for thinking so. She also thinks it's very cute and polite to refer to her as ‘Hinata-san’. Most people use her first name to differentiate between Natsu and Shouyou. “Not anymore. But I’m on the girls’ soccer team!”

“Oh? Did you practice this morning too?” He asks, but his eyes flicker over her whole frame, clearly already knowing the answer by the way she’s slowly becoming a puddle on the floor. “You seem a bit exhausted.”

“Not practice—conditioning,” Natsu corrects him solemnly, flopping back into her seat. “We didn’t even touch the ball, we’re just working on endurance. So many sprints, Goshiki-kun! Sameshima wants us to die, I’m sure.”

“Is that the coach? She sounds just as bad as Washijo,” Goshiki gives her a sympathetic look when she hums in confirmation.

“That’s Shiratorizawa for ya,” Natsu shrugs. “Besides, it’s probably for the best. Like your diving—it’ll help my stamina!” She thinks of Shouyou’s daily bike ride, and wonders if she could incorporate something similar into her routine without totally burning herself out.

“I don’t know much about soccer, but you sound like you work very hard,” Goshiki offers kindly, tilting his head. “I’ve only ever played volleyball… ah, what position do you play in soccer?”

The fact that he’s trying even without knowing about the game is really very sweet if you ask Natsu. “I’m a midfielder, but soccer positions are more flexible than yours. I just want to be in the center, because they control the game.” Goshiki nods. “What I really want to be is the attacking midfielder, but…” Her hand clenches into an angry fist, “The captain took one look at me and said I’d be a good striker. A striker. All they do is hang around the goal posts! A midfielder is the heart of the team, we go around the whole field and stand our ground! They haven’t seen me play for their team yet, but they need someone like me in the middle, there’s no other first year that can do it! I’m—I’m… ah!” Natsu realizes she’s rambling. Again. To a total stranger that probably doesn’t care all that much about girl’s soccer. She squeezes her eyes shut. “I’m sorry, I must be boring you with all this!”

“N-No! Not at all!” Goshiki stammers out. Natsu lifts her head warily, and the tall boy stares back, looking a little bemused. Except—his eyes don’t have that glazed-over look she’d been dreading. Instead, he gazes back at her intently, and his hands are curled into fists of his own on his desk. “I don’t know how the game works, but—I know exactly how you feel, Hinata-san. I’m a wing spiker and—and I’m going to be Shiratorizawa’s ace one day, once I prove to the team I’m worthy!”

Unlike Goshiki, Natsu knows precisely what that means for him. Her eyes are wide with awe. “Ushijima is the ace right now,” Natsu breathes, and her new friend seems a little surprised that she even knows the name, but nods stubbornly. “That’s… that’s…” She chews on her lip, finding the right words. “That’s so inspiring, Goshiki-kun!” Natsu cries, leaning forward. “You’re so cool!”

The boy looks ready to cry too, his face going slack with wonder. “H-H-Hinata-san,” he stammers out, suddenly floundering for words. His face is bright pink. “That means so much to me! You’re so sweet, I—I hope you become the attacking midfielder, too!”

“Th-thank you!” Natsu feels like he’s knocked the wind out of her, but in a good way.

“Good morning, class,” The teacher’s voice cracks across the room like a whip, and Natsu bites her tongue to stop from screaming. Sharp black eyes stifle all the joy bubbling out of Natsu, and she cringes as the rest of the class shoot her taunting looks. “Now, if we’re all done chatting with one another…”

Natsu doesn’t dare look at Goshiki again for the duration of their morning, knowing her face must be red as a tomato. Finally, the bell rings to signal the beginning of their lunch period, and Natsu begins the slow process of re-solidifying into a normal school-girl shape from the puddle she’s melted into.

“Hinata-san?” Goshiki is already on his feet, fiddling with a blue mechanical pencil between taped-up fingers. “Um. I don’t want to sound presumptuous, but you’re the only person I know here, so would it be okay if we sat together for lunch?”

Natsu’s heart swells. “Yes! I don’t know anyone here either! That sounds great, Goshiki-kun! Ah—I need to buy lunch, I was told Shiratorizawa has a good cafeteria, so—”

“Oh, me too,” Goshiki assures her, perking up. “My scholarship includes some credit for lunch food, and my senpais say the food here is very nutritious and I want to start building muscle, so—ah—yes, I’ll go too,” his sentence peters off, and he fumbles with the zipper on his bag to put his pencil away.

Natsu knows why he’s acting so off, but she can’t help but feel a little exasperated. She’s a girl, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to talk about sports too! She’s just as interested in gaining muscles as any other athlete. “You’re so lucky they gave you money for food!” Natsu confesses as they follow the stream of first years to the cafeteria. “I have a partial scholarship for soccer, but it only covers textbooks and school supplies, stuff like that. And I’m starving! Y’know what they made us do this morning? Pyramid sprints.”

Goshiki raises his eyebrows, intrigued. His shoulders lower from where they’re bunched around his ears, relaxing as she speaks. “I don’t think I’ve done those, what is that?” He gazes at her with earnest interest, something she so rarely sees from anyone besides her brother. Even her junior high teammates hadn’t been so eager to talk about athletics when they weren't on the field.

“It means death!” Natsu grouses, running a hand through her hair and displacing two bobby pins. “Eight 50-meter runs. Six 100-meter runs. Four 200-meter runs. Two 400-meter run. And then you go back down the pyramid!” The volleyball player’s jaw drops. “That was just the start!”

“How do you still have legs?!” Goshiki cries as they enter the cafeteria.

“That’s what I’m wondering! We ended the regime with a two kilometer run!” Natsu exclaims, raising her knee and clutching at her own thigh. “These twigs are gonna break if I don’t get stronger!”

Goshiki slaps a hand over his mouth, but can’t quite stifle his laughter or hide his reddening cheeks. “Put that twig down before it snaps!” He flushes with color and looks away from her skirt. Maybe her humor’s a little inappropriate, but it’s still funny. Natsu giggles too, covering her face as she drops her leg, and then they catch each other’s eye—and then they’re both cackling loudly in the middle of the cafeteria without a care in the world.

Chapter Text

In the cafeteria line, Goshiki piles on even more rice than Shouyou would’ve. It genuinely impresses Natsu, and when she tells him so, the wing spiker just stammers out a thank you, admitting that he’s a little embarrassed by the size of his own appetite. As she pays for her meal, Goshiki lingering ahead of her to search for seats, there’s a call across the lunchroom for the volleyball player.

Another tall student is waving to Goshiki from a table full of more tall guys, and it can only mean more volleyball players. Goshiki’s eyes widen in delighted shock.

“Th-that’s Ohira-senpai,” Goshiki realizes excitedly, waving back. Then he freezes, looking at Natsu with rounded eyes as she steps up to his side. “Hinata-san… I asked if I could sit with you…I can't just leave now..." 

It goes beyond obligation for Tsutomu. Hinata was nice to him, inexplicably supportive after he spent all morning being glared at by the regulars on his volleyball team. Maybe his reasons are selfish, but he couldn't just abandon Hinata Natsu after how kind she's been to him. 

Natsu would have held up her hand and waved him away if she weren’t holding such a heavy tray of food, so she settles for shaking her head like an unruly dog. “No, no, no! Goshiki-kun, that’s your team! You have to sit with them!” She insists, even as a part of her feels like a snuffed out flame and her eyes dart around, searching for any familiar faces.

“Your team isn’t looking for you,” Goshiki voices her worried thought, his brow furrowed in conflict. “Where are they?” He'd feel much better about leaving her behind if he saw her team, but Hinata had already admitted she had no friends at Shiratorizawa yet. 

“Ah, we have a much bigger squad,” Natsu explains lightly, chewing her lip. Her captain is sitting with two third years, but the first years she remembers are scattered throughout the room, and many others aren't even here. “I don’t think they sit together like that,” she eyes the small group of volleyball boys with no real animosity, but a generous helping of jealousy that can't be helped. Her own teammates have hardly spoken a word to her off the field. 

He presses his lips together in thought, staring hard at Natsu, and then his team. Then he switches to holding his lunch tray with one hand—wow, that's a lot of food to balance on one arm, Natsu thinks it might tip over—and his other hand curls around Natsu’s sleeve and tugs her forward. Natsu yelps, carefully tilting her tray so she doesn’t spill it. “Come with me, I’m going to ask them something,” Goshiki says stubbornly.

“Ask them—?” Natsu splutters helplessly. He’s not exactly a weak guy, and Natsu doesn’t think he’s aware of his own strength as he drags her along. She can't quite argue with him while focusing on not spilling her food. “Uwaahh, Goshiki-kun! I’m fine, it’s okay if you leave me!”

“Let me ask first,” Goshiki insists, and the closer the team gets, the bigger they appear to Natsu. Goshiki is pretty darn tall on his own, but the rest of the team? The third years?? Enormous! Bigger than the goalkeeper! Bigger than the goal itself! 

“Goshiki-kun, are they all senpai?” She whispers as they draw near, trying to formulate a plan as to not embarrass herself. “I can’t tell, you’re all so big.”

“Ah, yes,” he whispers back quickly. “There’s only two other first year recruits and I don’t see them—but don’t be afraid! They aren’t scary, only the coach is,” Goshiki promises.

Natsu is not, strictly speaking, afraid. She isn’t as nervous around tall people as Shouyou is, having gotten over many of her fears by playing such a rough contact sport throughout junior high. It’s not their size that bothers her, but the fact that she’s a total outsider to what looks like a close-knit group. Natsu desperately wants a place to belong, but this group is so different from what she knows, and therefore everything she fears. She can’t make eye contact with any of the volleyball players, they’re giving her looks, they’re definitely judging her scrawny form and scruffy orange hair—

“Oooh, Tsutomu-kun, did you really have to bring your girlfriend with you? What sort of kouhai are you?” A red-haired giant drawls out in a sing-song voice, craning his long neck over the table to get a better look at her. Natsu thinks she’s having a heart attack.

Girlfriend?! She just met Goshiki! Natsu can't handle this horrible sort of scrutiny—

“Th-this is my friend, Hinata Natsu!” Goshiki yelps, waving a swift hand between himself and Natsu as if to physically sever any suggestive ties linking them. “J-just friends! Hinata-san is on the soccer team! She’s very nice and I was wondering if she could sit here too, please?!” He pauses, his face twisting into something obstinate and sour to prevent himself from showing any outward nervousness.

The table is so silent you could hear a pin drop. Natsu thinks she might sweat through her shirt, it’s so painfully quiet. She glances around the team, seeing various levels of bemusement and shock. Oh, he was too rude when he asked, wasn’t he? It’s only the first day, and she’s ruined it for Goshiki! Dread and guilt wells up in her throat. Just as Natsu opens her mouth to take it all back, to smooth things over and apologizing for the intrusion—

“I don’t really care,” A boy with straight, strawberry-blonde hair huffs, rolling his eyes. “But you should be more respectful to your senpais, Goshiki-kun.”

“It’s okay, Goshiki-kun,” a player with spiky dark hair refutes the previous boy with a friendly smile.

“She can sit too,” Another player speaks up, pointing to the gap in the table where two seats might fit. He has a steady, commanding-sort of voice that compels the others to pay attention. If Natsu didn't know better she'd assume he was the captain. “This isn’t some exclusive table or anything.”

“Ahh, it kind of is, though,” the red-headed player argues in a low, lyrical voice, tilting his head. Still, the players on the other side of the table shift over little by little until there’s enough space for two more chairs. “We’re the stars of this academy, don’t you think? The strongest. You should be grateful, Natsu-kun,” he smirks.

Goshiki bows formally, choosing not to address the redhead egging him on. “Thank you, senpai,” he sighs, pulling out a chair for Natsu.

“Yes, thank you…” Natsu takes the seat, but her lips curl into a small frown as she looks at the red-haired student. She’s a little confused about being referred to as ‘Natsu-kun’ (she doesn’t look that boyish, does she?), but her larger issue is what he suggested about the Academy's sports teams. “But your team isn’t the only strong one at Shiratorizawa, ah, senpai,” she says, trying not to sound too forward. By the bemused look on his face, she’s not really succeeding.

“Hinata,” Goshiki whispers, half-amazed and half-terrified for her.

Natsu jumps. She doesn’t mean to cause trouble. “Ah, I-I mean—well! It’s true? In the past ten years, two alumni from the girls’ soccer team have played in international games, and five are playing professionally in Japan. That’s why I chose this school. I don't know what you mean by claiming the volleyball club is more exclusive.” The red-haired player stares at her with a stony face, totally unreadable, and Natsu ends her statement by shoveling a whole rice ball into her face, downright mortified.

“...Wow,” someone with a buzzed head comments with a low whistle. She isn’t sure he’s referring to how she spoke to an elder or how she’s managed to eat so much rice in two bites.

“You’ve got some guts for a first year,” a good-looking gray-haired player grumbles, stabbing at his lunch tray.

Natsu gives an indifferent shrug, cheeks red, but refuses to apologize. It's the truth, after all, and she won't let some volleyball fanatics forget how important the soccer team is. “Please pardon the intrusion,” she says belatedly, glancing at Goshiki apologetically.

“It’s okay,” a player with tanned skin and curly hair reassures her and Goshiki. The one with enough authority to be a captain-like player. “It’s kind of refreshing to meet someone who doesn’t play volleyball. I can see you’re very passionate about your own sport, and I respect that.” Natsu could cry, she’s so relieved by his presence. He’s more muscular than Goshiki, and probably a third year, but he reserves a small, friendly smile for her. “I’m Ohira Reon.”

“Hinata Natsu,” she bows her head quickly. “Thank you for having me.”

“That’s Shirabu, Semi, and Yunohama,” Ohira points to the blond player, the gray-haired one, and then the buzz-cut player in turn. Natsu prays to every deity that she doesn’t mess up their names, and takes nervous bites of her food as she tries to concentrate. She gets far enough to remember that the gray-haired one is the handsomest, and also the most intimidating.

“I’m Yamagata, third year libero,” the one with spiky hair adds helpfully. Natsu does know what a libero is, but her junior high team never had one. She’s kind of glad they haven’t all introduced themselves with their positions on the court, it would be too much for her to remember right off the bat.

“Yoo, Natsu-kun, I’m Tendou Satori,” the red-haired senpai cuts in with a cheshire smile. He definitely must be aware that she’s a girl at this point, so maybe he just refers to everyone with ‘-kun’? Something about his hawk-like gaze suggests that he wants to draw out her reaction, and Natsu resolves right then and there that she won't be baited so easily. Tendou waves his finger in a circle before it comes to a stop at the other end of the table. “There’s our stoic vice captain, Soekawa Jin, and our Miracle Boy, Ushijima Wakatoshi!”

Natsu doesn’t even have half the love for volleyball that Shouyou does, but she certainly knows about Shiratorizawa’s star pupil, simply through the reputation of the school itself. Shouyou had been downright frightened when they looked up Ushijima's stats together, and Natsu hadn't expected to ever be this close to the ace. Tendou has a point. Maybe this is the exclusive table, Natsu realizes in growing discomfort as she looks past Goshiki to see the two in question. The vice captain has dark brown hair and a gentle expression on his face despite the severe downturn of his eyebrows.

Ushijima just looks like all his pictures—handsome and stern, but also sort of a blank slate.

Soekawa Jin simply acknowledges her with a brief nod. Ushijima looks up from a book to Tendou, blinking olive green eyes. “Yes?” he asks the redhead plainly.

“Wakatoshi-kun, where are your manners? Tsutomu-kun brought a guest!” Tendou teases, fluttering a hand at Natsu.

At least she’s not the only one to cringe. Shirabu and Semi don’t look very impressed either by his exuberance. Natsu likes enthusiasm, but not when it’s unfounded, and it feels like she’s being built up for no reason. Ushijima looks past Tendou to stare right at Natsu with a rather flat expression. “...Who are you?”

“Hinata,” Natsu feels like her tongue has turned to lead, and she’s not sure how else to respond. He doesn’t know her, after all, and what business does a soccer player have at the volleyball table? Should she give him her year and position on the field, like Yamagata did? Ushijima is still giving her a blank frown. Yikes, if he doesn’t like her will she have to find somewhere else to sit? “G-Goshiki and I are friends,” she adds pathetically. She's only known Goshiki for a total of three hours... 

Goshiki sighs loudly, clearing regretting this entire conversation. Tendou looks immensely amused. “Ushijima-senpai, this is my friend, Hinata Natsu,” he repeats her name in a strained voice. “I hope you don’t mind her sitting with us, but I was planning to sit with her before Ohira-senpai invited me, and it didn’t seem right to just leave her.”

“...I see,” Ushijima’s expression doesn’t change at all when Natsu waves a hand at him. He clearly hasn’t been paying any attention to the idle conversation at the table until now. And just as quickly as he was drawn into the conversation, he recedes back to his textbook. “That’s fine.”

The two first years exchange private, relieved looks.

The team soon settles back into place, only making small talk as the boys feast on several servings of meat and rice and vegetables. Most of them have even more food than Goshiki, though Tendou Satori seems to be the exception, slowly picking at the grilled fish on his plate while reading manga on his smartphone. Natsu eats a generous portion on her own, and tries not to be bothered by the side conversations or the occasional looks thrown her way.

She has a feeling the students sitting at the tables around them have more to say about her place at this particular table, but Natsu prefers to eat her nerves away. This is something she doesn’t have in common with Shouyou—he tends to vomit up his anxiety when things get too tense, but Natsu has a stomach of steel and stuffs her face to alleviate the butterflies in her belly.

“Hinata-san,” Goshiki eventually draws her attention once more. Natsu happily sucks on a carton of milk as she looks up at him. “I was wondering about something you said earlier… you know a lot about volleyball, and when I asked if you played…”

“Oh, yeah,” Natsu confirms brightly, “I used to play, but I prefer soccer. The court’s too small, I like being able to run.” She shares a knowing look with Goshiki when she taps her knees, and gets a grin out of him. Despite how she complained about this morning, Natsu does enjoy the burn in her legs from the exertion.

“Yeah, that sounds like a requirement for soccer,” Goshiki says with a laugh. He shakes his head, baffled at the sort of conditioning the soccer teams go through. “But, ah, did you have a favorite position in volleyball? I don’t know if striker is anything like a spiker, or if middle blocker is like a midfielder…”

“Uwaahh, Goshiki-kun, don’t try to equate our sports! It just gets confusing, trust me,” Natsu laughs, elbowing him. “There’s a ton of positions in soccer, and it changes depending on our formation.”

Truth be told, Natsu actually researched a lot of volleyball for her brother, trying to relay the information to her idiot twin, and was intrigued enough by the sport to try it herself. Shouyou gets ideas in his head, like becoming the next Little Giant, but never thinks about how to actually accomplish his goals until he hits an obstacle, leaving her to make up the difference. But at the same time,  Natsu’s not much better; she was so sure she could do anything Shouyou could, and joined the girls’ volleyball team just to prove it.

“It’s not like midfield, for the record, but I was a middle blocker for my first year in junior high before I switched back to soccer," Natsu admits, feeling sort of contrite. 

“Middle blocker?” Goshiki blinks in surprise. A few of their senpai turn their heads at her words too. “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that. Usually, middle blockers are, um..”

“Taller?” Natsu guesses, a sharp gleam in her eye as Goshiki nods apologetically. “I know, but that’s just what us Hinatas are best at: jumping real high. So it worked out.”

Her friend seems surprised by her response, but before he can question her further, an older player interrupts.

“Ohhhh? Middle blocker, you say?” Tendou tilts his head so far he’s looking at her sideways over Ohira’s tray. Ohira gently takes his entire head and turns him upright, and then pushes him away from his meal. “Were you any good, Natsu-kun?”

Natsu huffs out a laugh and shakes her head. She should’ve expected volleyball to consume this conversation as soon as she walked over to this table. “My timing was fine, but do you see my arms? I’m a noodle!” She stretches her arms out in front of her, utterly serious with her sleeves rolled up a bit. “My hand-eye coordination just wasn’t there for hard blocks.” Really, she only got any experience with volleyball because Shouyou was so crazy about the sport, and she corralled him into a few practice matches with the girls in junior high—much to Shouyou’s embarrassment. Shouyou didn’t really have a sport to play until then, but Natsu had been playing pick-up games of soccer since she saw a game on the beach when they were six or seven years old.

“You’ve got a point,” Shirabu agrees cooly, eyeing her arms like they’re chickens too scrawny to make a meal from. He levels his gaze on her face. “So, are you any good at soccer?” He asks, plainly skeptical.

Lightning flashes in Natsu’s eyes.

(Ohira, sitting directly across from the first year girl, feels a shiver run down his spine when he catches the look on her face.)

She smiles woodenly at Shirabu. “Yes. I’m a very good soccer player, Shirabu-senpai.” She doesn’t quite voice the words Better than you, because it doesn’t make sense in the context of them playing totally different sports, but the essence of her thought seems to smack him in the face all the same.

Beside Ohira, Tendou leans back and mutters under his breath, “That’s a scary look for such a tiny kouhai.”

“Hinata-san is here on a sports scholarship too,” Goshiki backs her up, throwing Shirabu a slightly annoyed glance. “They don’t give those out to just any students.” Then his face lights up. “Ohira-senpai, does the volleyball team do conditioning workouts?”

“Conditioning?” The third year arches an eyebrow. “Yes, but mostly during training camps. We do some long-distance runs between tournaments too, but our regular practices are for skill training. Why?”

The wing spiker points a thumb at Natsu. “Hinata-san was telling me about her endurance training,” he explains, prompting her to speak. “It sounded very intense, especially pyramid runs.”

“Ah, our workouts are all cardio-based,” she begins tentatively, “Sometimes the difference in endurance is what wins the game, rather than skill level. So we do a ton of running exercises. Sameshima-sensei doesn’t like to use subs unless someone’s injured—so if you can’t last all ninety minutes on the field, she’ll never use you.” Natsu glances at Ohira to see that he’s still listening, and feels confident enough to keep talking. “Pyramid runs are just for sprints, but it starts with eight 50 meter runs…”

Her explanation sparks a larger conversation amongst the team about their own goals between strength training and developing their skill sets, and Natsu is easily drawn into the conversation when they move onto long-distance running and their personal best times. Natsu gives Goshiki a thankful smile a few minutes later, one that he returns enthusiastically as his team continues their discussion. Her phone buzzes with a text, and Natsu puts down her chopsticks to look at it.

Nacchaaaann!! Karasuno is so cool, I don’t know where anything is!! How is the Academy???

She types back a quick response, knowing they’ll probably have much more to talk about tonight when they both get back from afternoon practice.

Shouchaaaan! I got lost, the campus is so big!! The soccer fields are gorgeous, I’m gonna cry!!

He’ll definitely be interested to find out her first friend at Shiratorizawa is a wing spiker for the volleyball team, but that’s a conversation that would leave her phone buzzing all day and drain her battery. She’ll wait till they’re home to talk about their new peers. Shouyou’s even friendlier than Natsu, so she’s not worried about him making friends, though it’s odd to think she’ll probably never meet most of them.

“Goshiki-kun,” Natsu says suddenly, turning over an idea in her head. I know we just met but I think we’re going to be good friends, so… He looks up, and she holds out her phone hopefully, already opened to enter a new contact.

His eyes land on the screen, and he looks a little incredulous as he accepts the phone with a shaking hand. “Oh,” he says softly, like he hadn’t ever expected to be in this position. He doesn’t say anything more, but a tiny smile nudges at the corner of his mouth as he types in his information. Goshiki hands the phone back, his ears colored a deep red. A few of his teammates chuckle as the first year ducks his head, but only one is bold enough to comment.

“Natsu-kuuuuun,” Tendou sings her name abruptly, startling Natsu as she sends Goshiki a 'hello' text with a ton of emojis. “Don’t you want my number too?”

“Eh? Why?” Natsu puffs, flustered by the candid question. She misses Goshiki’s wheeze of embarrassment at her plethora of emojis, drawn by Tendou’s curious request. Yunohama looks over Goshiki’s other shoulder and snorts quietly.

Tendou pouts at her, suddenly looking much younger, almost child-like. “Because! We’re… matching. Ginger-haired middle blockers!” He declares with a flourish, flicking his red hair. “We need to stick together.”

“But…” Natsu gives him a long, uncertain stare, before her eyes slide over to one of the players two seats away from Tendou.

This particular student was never introduced to Natsu, and had not done anything but eat his meal with an annoyed look on his face this entire lunch period. However, his dark ginger hair was just a shade off from Natsu’s hair color, and it stuck up around his head just as wildly as her own hairstyle. The volleyball player meets her eye without hesitation to share a silent, telepathic ginger conversation that conveys, We're the matching gingers here, not Tendou.

“Kawanishi Taichi,” the ginger boy offers his name after a moment. Natsu lights up in joy despite the lackluster introduction and gives him a polite nod. Kawanishi returns to his meal in peace.

“Tendou-senpai, I think Kawanishi-san and I match more,” Natsu concludes politely, turning him down.

"I'm also a middle blocker," Kawanishi adds, not looking up from his food. Natsu hums in agreement. Tendou pouts again, looking between the two gingers wordlessly. 

Yamagata, the friendly one with spiky hair, bursts into laughter on Natsu’s left. “Nice kill, Kawanishi-kun, Hinata-chan!” He cackles, clutching his stomach. A few of the other players snicker as well, Goshiki included, while Tendou droops for a moment. But the laughter eases any lingering tension amongst the teammates, and Natsu thinks that Tendou doesn’t seem to mind at all being the butt of a joke.

“Maaaah, it can’t be helped. Taichi-kun is the true ginger twin,” Tendou admits, and Natsu can’t help but giggle at the irony. She draws a few raised eyebrows, but no one questions her. If she brings up Shouyou now, Natsu has the feeling this table won’t ever shut up about volleyball. This is the first time she’s been her own Hinata—the only Hinata—at school, and a part of her doesn’t want to shift that image to the novelty of having an actual ginger twin.

Lunch ends with the volleyball team reminding Goshiki not to be late again, or their coach will punish the whole team with more dives or serves. Natsu walks back to class at a rather brisk pace, just barely keeping up with Goshiki’s long legs.

“Thank you for including me, Goshiki-kun,” Natsu tells him quietly. She’s sure she’d have made some friends eventually and sat with some decent students on her own, or maybe go out to the field and practice with a ball, but it was far more comforting to sit next to Goshiki, even amongst a forest of giants. “You didn’t have to.”

“It seemed right,” Goshiki picks at the edge of taping over his fingers. “Sorry about Tendou-senpai, he just likes to tease.” Then he winces. “And Shirabu. He can be harsh.”

“It's okay. He just hasn’t seen me play,” Natsu brushes off any concerns about his team’s treatment of her. She’s used to making friends through Shouyou half the time, and doesn’t mind a few silly boys goading her. “I still like them all, though! I hope I can bring my team to be as close as yours. They’re kind of distant right now,” Natsu confesses. “But what do I know? I haven’t been to a full practice, I haven’t even played with them yet!”

“We mostly worked on spikes or receives this morning,” Goshiki agrees as they reach their classroom. “We’ll do more drills, but I’m waiting to hear about when we’ll have our first practice match!”

“So you can pester the coach about becoming the ace, you mean?” She asks, eyes flashing.

“Of course!” Goshiki seems to vibrate with energy. “Man, I can’t wait for classes to finish up so we can get back to playing.”

“Me too,” Natsu reveals. “I feel like I still have so much to prove!” Her friend beams back, and the two of them chatter about their positions while the rest of the class trickles in.

Chapter Text

After the first years leave the cafeteria, Ohira and the remaining first-string players exchange thoughtful looks. All of them are wondering about their surprise guest at lunch. “Goshiki has a lot of potential,” Ohira comments hesitantly. “I hope that girl doesn’t distract him.”

“He said they’re just friends,” Yamagata points out genially. “And I don’t mind having her around, she’s not shy or scared of us. It’s nice.” That alone causes murmurs to ripple through the volleyball team as they clear the lunch table and head to their afternoon classes. They get approached all the time by random students, either to congratulate them on a game or wish them luck—or to confess to Ushijima, though that never ends well. But the volleyball team consists of tall and muscular young men, and it unnerves a lot of their peers. The basketball team faces a similar problem. Their team’s reputation has grown so formidable since Ushijima became the ace, most girls are too intimidated to befriend any of them.

It doesn’t help that Ushijima is absolutely ruthless when he rejects confessions. Tendou is working on it.

“She’s feisty,” the guess blocker adds his two cents with a laugh. “Did you see Tsutomu-kun blush when she asked for his number? Young love is so beautiful!”

“Goshiki doesn’t have a chance in hell,” Semi rolls his eyes. “If he’s like that just talking to a cute girl for an hour, he’ll be useless to the team if it goes further.”

“I think you’re jealous, Eita-kun,” Tendou quips back immediately, before any of the other teammates could come to their kouhai’s defense. “When’s the last time a cute girl wanted your number?”

“Didn’t she refuse your number, Tendou?” Ushijima speaks up out of nowhere, his eyes still trained on his book. Ohira is in charge of keeping him from walking into walls or students.

“Wakatoshi-kun,” Tendou makes a wounded sound as the captain finally lifts his head. “You didn’t need to remind me! Besides, I’ll get her number eventually.”

Ushijima eyes him evenly. “Why?”

“Yeah, Tendou,” Semi adds on, throwing their guess blocker a sharp, suspicious look. “Why do you want Goshiki’s girlfriend’s number?”

“You just said Goshiki didn’t have a chance,” Yamagata laughs at Semi, who turns his glare to their libero.

Tendou sighs loudly, slouching over until his body is one long drooping line of exasperation. “I just think Natsu seems fun,” he bemoans to Ohira. “When she talked about those soccer stats from Shiratorizawa—it almost made me want to see a game that wasn’t volleyball!”

Ushijima looks up from his book long enough to stare at Tendou. His expression is smooth, but they can all tell their ace is appalled.

“Wakatoshi-kun, don’t look at me like that!” Tendou whines. “It’s not like I’m quitting volleyball, jeez. What’s wrong with wanting to support our nicest kouhai? Lots of people to watch our matches.”

“Ask Goshiki,” Kawanishi suggest curtly, packing up his belongings. “If it doesn’t interfere with practice, I would like to watch a game too.”

The third years gape at their resident ginger, shocked that he’s speaking up. Kawanishi is a quiet guy, so to see him of all people to show some interest is a point in Hinata Natsu’s favor.

“Must be the ginger connection,” Yamagata muses, staring at the second year curiously. “I think Kawanishi has become a big brother.”

Kawanishi doesn’t even look at him, but Tendou guffaws loudly as they walk down the hallway, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Is that why you were so cold to me, Taichi-kun? I swear, I would be a perfect gentleman to Natsu!”

“Hey, don’t do that,” Yunohama admonishes the redhead, shooting him a disapproving look. “Goshiki-kun must really like her to bring her to our table, don’t scare her away.”

“Scare her? I just said I’d make a good boyfriend, Yuno-kun,” Tendou objects, throwing his hands up. “Why do you all seem to think I have bad intentions? I’m just teasing, like I always do!”

“You’ve never teased a first year over a girlfriend,” Yamagata muses, shrugging his shoulders. Their team is close with one another, but they don’t butt into each other's personal lives off the court. “She’s just as new as Goshiki-kun, so you should probably tone it down a bit.”

“That’s true,” Ohira realizes, tapping his lip in thought. “I think I’d feel bad if we upset Hinata. I don’t know why, I barely know her.”

“None of us hang out with girls outside of class,” Ushijima cuts straight to the meat of the issue with a flat expression as always. “Perhaps that’s why it’s different.”

He blinks, vaguely startled when he realizes all the regulars on his team are glaring at him. “What?”

After school, Natsu dives head first into her first soccer practice, doing everything she can to show the coach she’s earned her position on the field. Goshiki’s company really helped to fire her up for practice, and it seemed like she’s done the same for him by the excited look he wore when they parted ways.

Natsu runs hard, hyper-focused on her footwork, her positioning, her passing. They have a brutal forty-five minute scrimmage at the end, pitting Natsu and other younger players against the older starting roster. They have a few upperclassmen on their team, and they manage to hold together long enough for the final score to be a solid 1-1, but it’s painfully obvious that the captain’s team dominated the field. A full ninety minutes and Natsu’s white-shirt team would have crumbled under the pressure.

By the end of practice Natsu’s entire body is vibrating with energy, exhaustion, and a good amount of lactic acid build up. It doesn’t make sense, but Natsu thinks she ought to run more laps or something because if she stands still for too long she’ll drop like a fruit fly.

If only she’d ridden her bike to school. Biking up the mountains to get home would do wonders for her excess energy. She’d stay longer to run around the track again, but the buses only run so late and it would probably cause her mother and Shouyou to worry. Natsu drags herself onto the bus instead as night fully overtakes the sky.

Natsu flips open her phone, checking for messages.

Shouyou’s last message was hours ago, delivered just after school ended, but Natsu’s eyes widen as she goes through the absurd wall of texts her brother has sent. Her battery is at fifteen percent from all the excess buzzing, even though she hadn’t responded to a single message throughout practice. Apparently Shouyou was pretty much kicked off Karasuno's team from the start, and he’s now formulating a plan to redeem himself? That, and the King of the Court, Kageyama Tobio is also at Karasuno. Shouyou doesn’t explicitly state why he’s been banned from the gym, but Natsu gets the impression it has to do with the mean setter from Kitagawa…

“Oh Shouyou,” Natsu sighs, leaning back into her seat and closing her phone, “You always have more fun than me.”

Her cell phone buzzes again after a moment, and Natsu finds a new message, this time from Goshiki.

goshiki: Hinata, we have our first practice match at the end of the month. I would really like you to come and cheer me on!

Another text comes in before she can respond.

goshiki: Cheer US on! As a team. All of us. They like you a lot.

Tendou hovers over the wing spiker’s shoulder, just close enough to read the texts between him and Hinata Natsu. “Nice cover, Tsutomu-kun,” he hums, offering the first year an innocent smile when he whips around towards the middle blocker. “You know we usually get actual cheerleaders at our matches? You don’t need to ask Natsu to become one.”

“I–I’m not telling her to be a cheerleader,” Goshiki flounders, running a hand through his sweaty hair and leaving his severe bowl-cut in total disarray again.

“Hm, she’d be adorable in the outfit though, wouldn’t she?” Tendou says, rather ruthlessly stripping away what was left of Goshiki’s composure. He doesn’t actually mean what he’s saying, but says it just to prod the young wing spiker into a blushing mess.

“Yes! No!” Goshiki thinks he’s sweating again. Tendou arches an eyebrow “Yamagata-senpai said it would be fine to invite her to watch us,” he adds defensively. “Just to watch. Not like a cheerleader. Everyone said they liked her.”

Tendou holds up his hands reassuringly. “We do, we do…” His eyes lower knowingly. “I’d really like to see my cute little kouhai celebrate my blocks, it would really encourage me in a match. Even better, she could sit on the bench, pass me towels…”

Goshiki’s face falls.

“...basically, I’d love a manager, ne?” Tendou finishes, eyeing his kouhai for his reaction. Slowly, the first year catches onto the gentle reprimand. “Maybe just a fangirl. You know who knows all about admirers? Wakatoshi-kun.”

“Yes, Tendou?” Ushijima looks up from his stretches, as usual only listening after his name is called.

“Nothing,” Goshiki frowns at the two of them, brow furrowing in consternation. “Why are you telling me all this, Tendou-senpai? She’s not a fangirl, you have a point, but… I think Hinata would like to see a match. We talked all day about soccer and volleyball! I want her to see me play, what’s wrong with that?”

“Oh, you’re talking about the girl you like,” Ushijima surmises, walking over to the two of them. Goshiki cringes, and avoids answering by chugging from his water. Tendou bites his tongue, wondering if he’ll finish the whole bottle in one go if he’s not interrupted.

“Slow down, Goshiki,” Ohira interrupts, and Tendou sticks out his tongue. Spoilsport.

Goshiki gasps for breath, shooting his senpai pleading looks as Ohira pats his back. “Was I being rude to her? I just want to be friends, I don’t think of her as an admirer, she was just so supportive and nice and didn’t get mad when I kind of yelled at her while looking for the gym!” He says it all in one breath, face still pink, and when no one has anything to say, continues to dig his hole. “I know we just met and all, but I’m really excited to be her friend. Is that weird? It’s weird, isn’t it? She probably thinks I want something from her now, like Tendou-senpai says, but I just want her to see I’m not all talk when I say I want to be the next ace—”

“Someone shut him up,” Semi grumbles, returning from the storage closet with a harsher scowl than usual.

“Wait, you just met her today?” An odd expression crosses Shirabu’s face before he holds up a towel to wipe some sweat from his brow. “You talk about her like she’s a childhood friend.”

“I–I do?” the first year says weakly, eyes rounded and wide. “No, she helped me find the gym this morning, and then it turned out we’re in the same class… So it is weird, isn’t it?” he concludes in dismay. “I’ve never been friends with a girl before, but Hinata is so easy to talk to. She doesn’t get bored, or annoyed with me. I don’t want to lose that.”

Semi rolls his eyes, and smacks Tendou out of the blue. “Don’t take this idiot seriously, Goshiki,” he says to the first year. “Tendou just likes to mess with people. Nobody here cares about your friend unless she interferes with our practice.”

Poor Goshiki looks like he’s been slapped in the face. Yamagata groans in exasperation, a towel around his damp neck. “Semi doesn’t mean it like that,” he tells the wing spiker, aggrieved. “You’re allowed to have friends outside of the team. But don’t use Hinata to inflate your own ego, and don’t let yourself be distracted looking for applause. That’s all.”

Yamagata’s eyes flit around the room in wonder, privately trying to figure out when and why they all became so invested in this particular kouhai’s personal life. Personally, it hit his ego hard when Ushijima called them all out for not being close to any girls. Not that they even have time for girlfriends to begin with, but it embittered the third years all the same. Tendou’s warning isn’t unfounded—all the girls that show interest in the volleyball team are fangirls, and the support is nice, but it didn’t make them friends to any of the players.

Properly deflated, Goshiki gives a stiff nod. “Yes, senpai!” he barks at the libero, which gets a chuckle out of his teammates.

Just then, there’s a ring from his phone, making Goshiki jump. “She responded!” He yelps, trying to swallow his heart before it hops right out of his throat. He flips open his cellphone.

“So? What did she say?” Ohira voices his interest first. Unconsciously, the regulars huddle around Goshiki to peer at the illuminated screen.

hinata:✨ Cool, I’ll try to make it!  ✨💖🎉🥳✌️✨the message reads. The more interesting thing is the sparkles, heart, and party-face emojis that surround her words. Another text appears just after it.

hinata: ✨ Ahhhh can’t talk now, my phone’s dying! 😟😟🏃🏃🌱✨

Goshiki (and most of the team over his shoulder) stares at the colorful message. Worried-face emojis, a sprinting figure, and an inexplicable little green sprout.

“What the hell. Even her texts are cute?” Of all people, it’s Semi that says this. Though, as if to offset his words, the setter is kind of glaring at Goshiki’s phone.

Yamagata snorts as the group begins to shuffle off to the locker room to change. “So you do think she’s cute?”

Semi slaps the libero's head while Goshiki stares at his screen in a daze. It is cute, but more importantly he can… imagine exactly how she’d say it? It's as if she’s right there in the gym, pointing to her ‘twig-like thighs’ in reference to this morning. Regular texts aren't so loud or cheerful. “Maybe this is just how girls text,” he suggests, fascinated. At least there’s no way he could misinterpret it.

“What are all those pictures?” Ushijima asks, blinking at the message and thoroughly derailing them all. “Is that a plant?”

“Wa-ka-to-shi-kun, I send you emojis all the time,” Tendou protests, drawing out his name dramatically.

“Only the faces and the volleyball one.” Their captain argues, turning away to pack up his belongings.

“I think the seedling is a typo,” Ohira says helpfully. “She’s just trying to run home before her phone runs out of battery.”

“Not a typo,” Goshiki says quietly, cheeks flaming. The third years turn to him expectantly. “It’s, uh, an inside joke? About how she runs? She’s been saying she wants to increase her stamina and get stronger so her legs don’t snap like twigs. There’s no twig symbol, but I think that’s what it means.”

The volleyball team stares at him. It’s only been a day, and they have inside jokes? Yamagata’s mouth falls open. “Goshiki, how the hell are you this good at talking to girls?”

“I–I’m not!” The first year squeaks, shoving his phone away. “I told you, I’ve never been friends with a girl! Hinata is just really easy-going?”

“This is unacceptable behavior,” Tendou sings from his place at the edge of the row of lockers, greatly entertained by his kouhai if nothing else, “Share your secrets with your senpai, Tsutomu-kun, before you put us all to shame for being girlfriend-less!”

(Kawanishi pointedly avoids eye contact with everyone, though only Ohira notices this discrepancy. He’ll interrogate the second year later.)

“H-Hinata is not my girlfriend!” Goshiki declares again, blushing furiously as he tries to pack up quickly and escape. “Please stop saying she is!”

“Or what,” Shirabu deadpans, “She’ll break up with you?”

“Shirabu-san! Not you too!”

Chapter Text

“Haah? You’re friends with the Shiratorizawa volleyball team?!” Shouyou demands, and there’s no mistaking the betrayal in his eyes. “Natsu, how could you sink so low?”

Patiently, Natsu rolls up the math worksheet she’s been filling out, and promptly smacks Shouyou in the face with it. He lets out a strangled yelp and knocks over an empty glass. “Stop being dramatic, little brother. I just met the team. I’m only friends with Goshiki.”

“But they want you to go to their games!” Shouyou throws back at her, sticking out his tongue at the casual jab at his height. Shouyou is the older sibling, but Natsu’s still taller than him. “What are you, their cheerleader?”

“Am I your cheerleader? I’m going to watch your games too, dummy,” she challenges him right back, unrolling her paper. They should go to bed soon, but Natsu had to share her first day with Shouyou first, and she wanted to know how her brother was faring at his school. “You’d like Goshiki anyway, he’s just as fired up about becoming an ace.” She fights a smirk. “He’s probably a better spiker than you, though.”

Shouyou scowls, but knows better than to protest. Natsu’s been needling him for years—and her insults aren’t nearly as infuriating as that Glasses jerk, Tsukishima.

“How’s your volleyball team?” she asks. “Are you even on it?”

“I will be,” Shouyou sighs. “Kageyama and I just have to… work together.” He gives a shudder, like he’s being asked to handle slimy fish. “I’ll get there. I have a good feeling about this team.”

She sinks down a little. “Well, that makes one of us. The soccer club’s so… divided. And I guess that’s fine when we’re not playing, but I feel like some players have biases about who they’ll pass to, and who’s plays they’ll run. Isn’t that awful?”

“It is awful!” Shouyou cries. “How can you even function like that, without any trust? I thought the Academy was the best in the league.”

“I don’t know, sheer force? The third years are brutal,” Natsu shakes her head. “Our captain’s pretty well-respected, but the goalkeeper seems to have the most power. She’s so, so tall. And muscular, like our personal brick wall. She could snap you into two,” she insists, rather too wonderstruck for Shouyou’s taste about such violence.

“I didn’t need to know that,” Shouyou quivers, clutching at his torso like that would hold it together against Aone Yui (it wouldn’t). “So the third years scare everyone into working together?!”

She picks up a pillow and curls herself around it, thoughtful. “Kind of? The coach drills us on specific formations and plays, and we keep practicing them until we all have it down.”

“Natsu,” he leans forward emphatically, “That’s crazy.”

“That’s Shiratorizawa,” she shrugs, clutching the pillow harder. Her hand twists into the fabric as if she could claim her dream if she just held on for long enough. “When I’m captain, though… things will be different. Better. I want a team that’s greater than the sum of their parts.”

Shouyou hums in fervent agreement, and quickly reaches over to ruffle up her damp hair. “I can’t wait to see it, little sister.” She blows a raspberry at him for calling her ‘little’, but secretly, she’s glad to have her brother’s support.

A few days later, Natsu slides into her seat in the classroom with a mournful sigh, drawing Goshiki’s attention. “Good morning. How was practice?”

“Morning, practice was fine,” Natsu rests her head between her arms on the desk, facing Goshiki. “Oh, I can’t go to your practice game at the end of the month.”

“Oh,” he blinks, sinking a bit. “That’s alright.”

“I’m sorry, I’m really excited for you too,” Natsu continues earnestly. “But my brother’s first practice game is on the same day, and I don’t want to miss it,” she admits. Shouyou’s really looking forward to playing against Aobajousai for some reason. “But there’ll be other matches, right? And the Inter High tournament, if it’s not at the same time as my league games?”

Goshiki nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, don’t worry about it! A-and I’d like to see one of your matches too, eventually—but we have all year! Yeah,” he says agreeably. Natsu is grateful for his understanding.

“I’m glad,” she sighs, letting her eyes flutter shut for a moment. A long moment. She rode a bike to Shiratorizawa today, and practice was tough.

Tsutomu stares as Hinata’s face goes slack, mouth parted and squished against the crook of her elbow. Her shoulders rise and fall in long, slow breaths. Natsu is naturally slim and short, especially when Tsutomu stands next to her, but now that she’s fallen into a light nap, she looks even smaller and gentler. Oh, Tsutomu thinks abruptly, so that’s what the team was talking about. Hinata has such a shining and confident personality, it wasn’t easy to imagine her to be, in any shape or form, a delicate person. And she’s not delicate, not even right now. But she certainly looks soft and cute.

“Um. Hinata-san.” Tsutomu blinks, tucking away his thoughts for another time. “Oi. Hinata, you can’t sleep now, we have class.”

“Five minutes…”

“The bell’s about to go off,” he whispers, nudging her arm. “Open your eyes! I don’t want you to get in trouble…” Also, he feels a bit awkward staring at her sleeping face for so long.

“Urghh,” Natsu drags her head up, scrubbing at her eyes. “Fiiiine. You’re too nice, Goshiki,” she complains. “Or maybe too mean, I don’t know.”

“I’m nice!” He laughs quietly, fiddling with his pencil. The teacher walks in, and their conversation is paused for the rest of the morning. Goshiki tries to pay attention in class, and he does take some decent notes and raise his hand a few times. He’s working hard to keep up in this school, and as much as he’d like to talk with Natsu for longer, it can wait.

Still, when the lunch bell goes off, Goshiki picks up right where they left off, casting Natsu a curious look. “By the way, you have a brother?”

“Mm,” is all Natsu says, still a bit sleepy. Tsutomu suspects she did extra work outs today. “He’s at Karasuno for high school, but before that we always stuck together in schools and clubs. He’s a volleyball nerd like you,” she adds teasingly, eyeing Goshiki.

“Is that why you tried volleyball in junior high?” Goshiki guesses as they walk to lunch. As Natsu nods, about to explain further, an older girl stops them in the hallway.

“Hello, Goshiki-kun,” the girl he’s never met greets him, and then turns to Natsu. “Hinata-chan, won’t you sit with us today?” she asks brazenly, as though it’s more of a demand than a request. The girl has short blonde hair and very long eyelashes behind her glasses…

“Oh, hello Aimi-san,” Natsu realizes belatedly. The second year looks different with glasses and her hair down. “Um…” She glances at Goshiki.

“Oh no, Hinata-san, go ahead! I’ll sit with Ohira-senpai,” he answers her unspoken question, stepping back with a bright, untroubled smile. “I’ll see you in class.”

He doesn’t actually give her a chance to speak before he’s gone. If he’d waited a moment, or protested at all, he’d have seen the consternation on Natsu’s face and realized she really doesn’t have any particular interest in sitting with Aimi. Natsu has never spoken to Aimi directly before, only knowing her through bits and pieces of loud conversations in the locker room, so she’s not even sure what brought on such an invitation.

Goshiki doesn’t see the gleam in Aimi’s eyes, or the sharp angle of her smile. Natsu plasters on her own grin, wearing it like a shield. “Thanks for inviting me, Aimi-san.”

“Oh, call me Aimi-chan,” the girl corrects her sweetly, leading her to a table on the far corner of the room.

Natsu has a bad feeling about this.

Tendou is the first to notice, as the nosiest and most talkative of the team. He scans over Goshiki curiously, raising one eyebrow as he takes a seat at their table alone for the first time. “Your girlfriend’s not sitting with us today?”

Goshiki pouts as a few other players lift their heads at Tendou’s comment. “Hinata and I are just friends. She’s eating with her teammate today,” he explains, rather subdued. Ohira and Yamagata exchange looks.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Ohira points out delicately. “She was worried about getting along with her team,” he recalls. Not that Hinata’s worries make any sense. She’s so sociable with the volleyball team, with whom she has nothing in common with, so Ohira is certain she’ll make friends just as quickly with her fellow soccer players.

“Yeah,” Goshiki agrees reluctantly, chewing on his food slowly.

“Don’t tell me you miss her already,” Semi shakes his head at the first year. “You spend half your classes with her.”

Goshiki pouts even harder. “You all like her too,” he says defensively, though he doesn’t actually deny what Semi is suggesting. “Plus, she said she can’t come to our match because she’s going to her brother’s volleyball game at Karasuno.”

Yamagata huffs a laugh. “Wait, she has an actual brother? Kawanishi, did you know?”

Kawanishi eats his curry serenely, not deigning to answer. (No, he didn’t know.)

“Karasuno hasn’t had a good volleyball team in years,” Ohira muses, surprised. “Old Ukai retired too. And they’re not a big enough school to hand out sports scholarships.”

“So her brother sucks at volleyball,” Tendou concludes ruthlessly. “That’s too bad. You think she’ll be mad when we crush her brother’s team during Inter-High?”

Goshiki’s eyes widen. “I didn’t even think of that… She didn’t say much about him, to be honest. Have you guys played against a Hinata at Karasuno before?”

“Nope!” Tendou chirps. “Guess he’s not a starter. I’d remember that hair.”

“Her brother might not be a ginger,” Yamagata points out, eyeing Kawanishi again. The second year continues to eat in silence, blatantly refusing to join the conversation. Soon, their discussion turns to more familiar territory, like Tendou and Yamagata’s running bet on whether their punishments (because there’s always punishments) will be dives or serves this afternoon, and they all, collectively, choose to overlook the small, Hinata-sized hole in their congregation.

Natsu sits among a small group of first and second year girls. Only two are on the soccer team, and the rest of them are a collection of Student Council reps, journalism club members, and a short girl that works with horses. Natsu desperately wants to know more about the horses kept on campus—who wouldn’t?—but Aimi and an editor named Sakura seem to dominate the conversation.

The conversation, unfortunately, is about boys and how Natsu needs to spill all the details she knows about the players on the volleyball team. The first year girl pokes at the food on her plate, perturbed at the questions directed at her.

“Well,” she begins haltingly, and the girls lean in. “Tendou-senpai…”

“Yes?” They prompt her impatiently.

“He serves really well in their practices, like, no-hit aces, but he’s so erratic in games that they bring in a pinch server instead,” Natsu admits frankly, picking at her rice. The girls deflate around her like old balloons. “You probably know that if you’ve watched their games, but it really frustrates Ohira-senpai. Ohira-senpai takes notes on all his teammates, and he hates it when they don’t reach their full potential when it really matters—”

“Hinata, that’s not what I meant,” Aimi cuts in abruptly.

“Huh?”

“What do you know about them?” She repeats emphatically. “Like, what kind of sweets does Ushiwaka like? Is Taichi dating that basketball player or not? Is Goshiki a good kisser?”

Natsu’s eyes widen. “I can’t ask them that,” she stammers in horror. Goshiki especially would die of embarrassment (as would Natsu) if she ever did. “That’s so rude, I mean—well, I can ask Ushijima-senpai about sweets, I guess,” she concedes that point dubiously, though, because Ushijima doesn’t seem like he would eat anything so frivolous and unrelated to his volleyball health as mochi or ohagi.

“And Taichi?” Aimi asks again with hawk-like eyes.

Natsu squints. “Who…?”

“Kawanishi Taichi, is he dating the basketball player?”

“I’ve never asked…” Maybe Aimi has feelings for Kawanishi-san, she certainly seems invested enough in his love life. But she doesn’t really look embarrassed or shy like most girls would be about their crushes, so Natsu isn’t sure.

“What about Goshiki?” Sakura presses, her eyes glimmering with suspicion. “C’mon Hinanta-chan, give us something. We’re curious about the new starter.”

Natsu’s mouth falls open in surprise. “Goshiki is a starter now?” She gasps in delight. “That’s great news, Sakura-san! How did you find out so quickly? You must be a talented journalist, do you know who he replaced? Or, no, he didn’t replace anyone, the spot was between him and Sagae, wasn’t it…”

“Hinata, stop playing dumb,” someone snaps, making her jump in her seat. “Give us something juicy, you’ve been getting the royal treatment from the volleyball team all week!”

Well, she can’t quite argue with that. She’s the only non-volleyball-player that sits at their table, after all. Natsu casts the girls a sheepish look. “They were all really nice about letting me tag along,” she admits guiltily. “It must look weird from the outside.”

Aimi makes a face. It’s not a nice face, she shouldn’t do that, Aimi has a naturally very pretty face. “Just tell us already, stop beating around the bush, it’s no fun.” She leans on one arm with a sharp look. “I won’t press you about it, but we were all looking forward to what you’d say.”

“What I’d say… ” Natsu blinks at her, a knot coiling in her gut, “...about the volleyball team?” And it occurs to her, finally, that most of her experience with Aimi-san is her giggling voice in the locker room and her endless supply of school news she spreads around to her teammates. The journalist students, the student council reps—everyone at this table is interested in the same sort of news, aren’t they?

Suddenly, the reason she’d felt so strange about joining Aimi snaps into focus. She’s not any more welcome at a group like this than she was with a bunch of super-tall volleyball players. In fact, she might be even more out of place, because they don’t care about their own club activities.

As the disappointment grows on Aimi’s face, Natsu’s own heart sinks.

She really isn’t that great at making friends, not the way Shouyou is. Her tongue feels like lead in her mouth, and Natsu fixes Aimi-san with a careful, neutral look. “I don’t know what you mean. Sorry.” And she plasters on a nice, full smile, but no matter what Natsu does she knows it doesn’t reach her eyes.

The next day, as their morning classes roll to an end, Natsu looks up at Goshiki with a wide grin and says, “I’m going to the field today to work on my penalty kicks, I’ll see you after lunch!” And if her smile still doesn’t quite reach her eyes, Goshiki doesn’t notice it.

“Has she broken up with you already?” Yamagata teases Goshiki as he sits down, yet again, alone. It’s the fourth day in a row that Natsu’s declined to stick around for lunch.

But Goshiki’s expression is curiously unsettled, rather than downright mopey. He passed by Aimi-san on the way to their table, and something about the blond girl’s tone of voice and muffled laughter felt wrong.

Anyone else on the volleyball team would’ve brushed off the daily on-goings of his classmates. They’re all so focused on their individual goals, on their work together as a team, there isn’t much else that the volleyball players talk about when they sit down for lunch, and they don’t have many friends outside of their sport. They talk about drills and interesting news in Volleyball Monthly, they talk about Washijo’s thick rural accent and Aobajousai’s ridiculously popular setter. Not school gossip.

Except this is Goshiki, and he’s not really aware of any of that, so he blurts out, “I think Hinata’s having some trouble with her team, but I don’t know how to help her with it.”

And because it’s Goshiki, everyone sort of expected this interruption to begin with, just as they’ve figured out how to roll with Hinata Natsu’s unlikely camaraderie, so really, there’s nothing left to be surprised about.

Ohira, parental and obliging as always, is the first to investigate. “What kind of trouble?”

“I don’t know. But this second year girl, Aimi, asked her to lunch the other day, but now Hinata doesn’t sit anywhere, she just goes to the soccer field for more practice.” His brow scrunches in distress. “She doesn’t need more practice, she’s not lagging behind or anything, it’s like she just doesn’t want to talk to anyone anymore…”

“I see,” Ohira frowns thoughtfully. Goshiki might be onto something here, that didn’t sound like Hinata at all.

“Did you say Aimi-san?” Shirabu interrupts. “The blond girl in class four?”

“I—yes? Do you know her?” Goshiki blinks owlishly at the setter, and then at Kawanishi, who’s also listening with an atypical sour look. “What is it?”

“She’s a nice girl,” Shirabu says in a strained voice, “But she’s very, ah, nosy. Too nosy.”

Out of nowhere, their other second year speaks up. “Keep Hinata away from that one,” Kawanishi advises bluntly. And then he packs up and leaves lunch early, all dramatic and silent while Goshiki squawks his confusion.

Chapter Text

“I’m home!” Shouyou calls out quietly, toeing off his sneakers. He slides open the door to his room and sees movement in the dark from the corner of his eye. “Uwaaah!” he shrieks, jumping backwards into the doorframe.

Natsu stares back at him in the dark, flopped over on his futon. “Welcome home nii-san,” she says mechanically, curling further into his blanket.

Shouyou tosses his book bag aside with a huff, clutching at his chest. “Nacchan, you’re gonna give me a heart attack. Why are you waiting in the… dark…?” His eyes narrow as he speaks, finally making out the details of her puffy, red face. Shouyou’s breath catches in his throat, shocked. “What happened?”

His sister makes a strange, high-pitched sound beneath three layers of bedding. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” Well. She says that, yet she’s in his room, on his bed, crying on his old plushy and generally making it pretty darn obvious that there’s something going on with her.

Shouyou crouches in front of the futon, resting his chin in his hands. “You’ve been acting off all week! You know you have to tell me, or you’ll explode.”

He knows Natsu. They work on the same wavelength. Even if she doesn’t want to admit what’s wrong, Hinatas can only bottle things up for so long. Like a well-shaken soda, Natsu bursts.

“I have no friends! My senpai is awful! I just want to get along with everyone but I can’t!”

Shouyou slumps onto the ground, his legs giving out. Down the hall, their father yells at them for being too loud. They call out their apologies and Natsu slumps into his pillows.

“What happened to Goshiki and his team? They sounded nice.” Shouyou watches her carefully, fully prepared to sprint to Shiratorizawa tomorrow morning to fight their volleyball team. Maybe he could convince Kageyama to come with him, but no, Kageyama’s too dumb to understand the nuances of friendship and brotherly duty. If he’s really nice to Tsukishima, maybe he could get Glasses to give them intimidating looks.

“They are nice,” Natsu assures him plaintively, “But they’re—well, they’re the boys’ volleyball team,” she explains in a defeated tone.

He waits for her to say something more, but his sister just looks at her knees. “And??”

“And nothing, Shou,” Natsu sniffles.

“But they are your friends,” Shouyou replies, confused. “You get along with them. They like you. Even the third years, you said.”

“I can’t keep tagging along with a bunch of boys all day!” Natsu cries out, frustration leaking into her tone. “People make assumptions, people talk, and I don’t want to cause a fuss for them.”

Shouyou stares at her. “What people?” he presses. “Someone’s starting rumors?”

“My teammate invited me to lunch with her friends,” Natsu explains softly, “But all she does is gossip, and she comes up with awful stuff about everyone. She keeps asking me tons of questions about Goshiki’s team and—I just don’t belong anywhere, Shou, I don’t like those teammates, but if I go back to sitting with Goshiki she’ll just ask more questions and I—” She abruptly smashes her face into a pillow and screams. “I don’t belong with a bunch of volleyball players either! As much as I like them, I’m not one of them, and I want to be one of them for the soccer team, but not like Aimi-san, but I don’t know how.”

As much as Shouyou can relate to Natsu… he has no idea what she’s talking about anymore. “Nacchan,” he huffs, setting a hand on her head. “Stop thinking so much.”

“Hah?”

He ruffles her hair further, until she makes a high-pitched noise of distress and pushes him off. “Shouyou, I’m serious!”

“So am I!”

“You don’t get it,” she pouts. “You make friends so easily, Shouyou, but girls are different.”

Well, he has no argument there. Most girls terrify Shouyou. “Then be friends with the volleyball team. As much as it pains me to see my sister betray Karasuno—”

“I don’t even go to Karasuno—”

“If you’re happy hanging out with Goshiki, just do it,” Shouyou declares honestly.

Natsu frowns, still uncertain. “But Aimi-san—”

“This Aimi seems like a bully,” Shouyou crosses his arms, face screwed up in concentration. Natsu pouts. Sure, Aimi is a little persistent when they speak, and has a bad habit of cornering people in locker rooms and bathrooms to get answers, but that isn’t bullying, right? Natsu figured out how to avoid her pretty quickly anyway. “Is she a third year?” Shouyou adds.

“Second year,” Natsu huffs. “And a regular on the team.”

“But she’s not the team. It’s one person. The whole team doesn’t gossip, right?” If they do, Shouyou won’t know what to say, girls beyond his sister can be so strange.

Thankfully, Natsu shakes her head. “No, most of them are pretty serious about playing. But I don’t know… I’m not like you, Shouyou.”

He scrunches up his nose. “You keep saying that like it’s a bad thing.” Natsu opens her mouth to argue, but he keeps talking. “Nacchan, you don’t have to be like me. You shouldn’t be like me—out of the two of us, who got a scholarship to go play at their dream high school?”

“Me.” She huffs, not seeing his point.

“Correct! Who’s at the top of their class, who’s played the most minutes out of all the players on their junior high school soccer team?”

“Me, but that’s not a good comparison—”

“Correct!” Shouyou talks over her. “Who’s Hinata Natsu, faster midfielder this side of the mountain, totally unafraid of girly gossip and best friends with the terrible no-good Shiratorizawa volleyball team?!”

Natsu bursts into laughter, covering her face. “Shouyou—”

“Ahh!” He makes a big X with his arms. “Incorrect! I’m Shouyou, you’re Natsu, and you’re going to be just fine!”

“But Shouyou—”

“Incorrect again!” Shouyou whips the pillow out from her lap and smacks her over the head. Natsu shrieks, and hurls the blanket at him. Blinded, she nails him in the side with a plushie. “Uwahh! You play dirty!” He yanks the blanket away and tackles her.

Natsu gets her leg up and heaves him away. “You started it!” She punctuates her yell with another pillow.

The door to Shouyou’s room slams open, revealing an irate mother with dreadful bedhead. “Shoyou! Natsu! Go to sleep!”

They both give her guilty looks, quickly pulling the bedding back into place with their heads lowered. Natsu hands him the last pillow that had landed somewhere in the corner of the room, and Shouyou accepts it with a beaming grin. “Nacchan, anyone would be lucky to be your friend. But it might take time. I’m still not friends with Yamaguchi and Tsukishima—or even Kageyama—but I want to be, and I’m going to keep trying until we all get along. If you decide that you won’t make friends, then you won’t make friends.” Shouyou pauses. “That makes sense, right?”

Natsu puffs out her cheeks. “For once, I think it does.”

“Great!” Shouyou pumps a fist in the air. “Hey, wait!”

“Good night, Shouyou!” Natsu slides the door shut to block the pillow he hurls at her.

Kawanishi Taichi is a peaceful guy. Really. But he has no intentions of peace or polite conversation when he walks into a different second-year class that morning.

“Kunitake-san,” he says cooly. The blonde girl sneers up at him, but there’s a glimmer of worry in her eyes. They’re in the middle of the classroom, after all, and Kunitake Aimi is very particular about the sort of attention she wants from others. Shirabu is in her homeroom this year, and he watches the two of them like a hawk.

“Taichi-kun,” she begins, overly familiar. “How’s volleyball going?”

He ignores her question “You’re bothering our kouhai. Why.”

Her eyes go wide and round. “Hm? I don’t know what you mean—”

“If you’re fishing for more gossip, it needs to stop.” There’s no other way for him to talk to Kunitake at this point. She twists every word to her liking, and Taichi is tired of it. “Hinata doesn’t know you well, but I do.”

Kunitake laughs, shrill and uneasy. “That’s so rude, Taichi-kun,” she replies, her face frozen in a stiff smile. “You’re talking about Hinata-chan? Besides—do you really know her? You should be grateful she’s quit trying to worm her way into your team, it was so embarrassing to watch—”

“You’re relentless,” Taichi hisses. “It’s sad. Don’t deny it, you’re harassing her. Just like you harassed Furihata last year, and spread rumors about Moriyama, and all the other ridiculous things you’ve pulled. Just stop.”

“I’ll stop if you go out with me,” she replies quickly, eyes bright. Taichi recoils. Her grin returns. “Hey, you can’t really care that much about Hinata. This was just an excuse to see me, wasn’t it?”

“Kunitake-san,” he says loudly, eyes blazing. “My answer hasn’t changed from the last time you asked.” Her smile drops. “I want nothing to do with you.”

He turns away swiftly, making for the door and ignoring the gasps and murmurs of the students around him. He can hear Aimi’s quavering tone as she talks to some other students. He probably made her cry, but Taichi doesn’t care.

Shirabu catches up to him in the hallway.

“That was overkill, Kawanishi-kun.”

Taichi looks straight ahead, and asks patiently, “Was it?”

“She’s hiding in the bathroom now, everyone’s gonna be talking about this for a long time…” Shirabu mutters. “Hinata didn’t even say anything about her, we just know what Goshiki knows.”

“We know Kunitake, don’t we?” Taichi replies brusquely, before slowing to a stop.

“What’s this really about?” the setter asks quietly. “I didn’t even know Aimi had a crush on you.”

That doesn’t surprise Taichi. Kunitake is careful about what she let others know about herself, and it’s an embarrassing fact that she’d been rejected twice already by a regular on the volleyball team. Taichi isn’t the kind of person to spread around rumors of what had started out as a private confession, but as it turns out, Kunitake is terribly petty. “Doesn’t matter, I never liked her.”

“Still, it looks kinda bad—”

Taichi gives him a look of warning, and Shirabu stops. “I meant everything I said to her. She sticks her nose in other people’s business, and I hate it. Isn’t that reason enough?”

Shirabu slumps. “...Yeah, I guess so.”

“My business is my own.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Shirabu rolls his eyes. “I won’t ask. Happy?”

Taichi rolls his eyes right back, and that’s the end of it.

Or he thinks it is, until Shirabu asks, “Don’t you think she’ll just take it out on Hinata now?” Taichi frowns. “We should at least warn her or something..." He's probably remembering Moriyama, a girl who quit the photography club and had a public meltdown after getting overwhelmed by Kunitake's ridiculous rumor mill.

Taichi nods. “You should,” he agrees.

“Yeah... Wait, me?” the setter yelps. "I don't—this is all your fault, Kawani—" It so happens that Taichi is right outside his homeroom class at this point, so he promptly steps inside and closes the door in Shirabu’s surprised face.

Of all the people for Natsu to encounter outside homeroom, of all the people to usher her to an empty hallway to talk privately before the bell rings, she never thought it would be Shirabu Kenjirou.

“...Good morning,” Natsu blinks at him, a little tired from early practice. Though the volleyball team had morning practices as well, Shirabu looks unreasonably bright-eyed and alert.

“Hinata,” he greets her stiffly, not quite frowning with his mouth, but a little divot has formed between his eyebrows that belies his discomposure. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out.

Natsu is equally speechless. She rarely talks directly to Shirabu at lunch, and he hasn’t shown much interest in talking to her either. “Is everything okay?” she asks eventually. “Class is starting soon.”

The second year seems to shake himself out of a deep thought. “No, actually. That’s why I’m here… about Kunitake Aimi.”

Natsu’s face drops at hearing her teammates’s name. Which is a terrible reaction, but she can’t help it. After talking with Shouyou, Natsu decided she would at least seek out friendships with the rest of her teammates regardless of what Aimi-san did about it, but that isn’t quite a solution to the frustrating gossip the second year likes to spread. Sooner or later, Natsu would have to explain to Goshiki what’s going on, but she hadn’t gotten that far for Shirabu to be asking about Natsu’s teammate.

“She’s our left wingback. What about her?” Natsu asks neutrally.

Shirabu grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. “Kawanishi heard she’s been bothering you,” he begins. Natsu is already confused, because she hasn’t spoken to Kawanishi in over a week. “And I’ve known Aimi for over a year. She can be very petty, so.. not to alarm you, Hinata, but she might be mad at you—”

“Haah?”

“—because Kawanishi pissed her off.”

Natsu stares at Shirabu uncomprehendingly. “Kawanishi-san picked a fight with Aimi-san?” Maybe she seemed a little upset around Aimi, but she hadn’t told anyone that except Shouyou. “I… never said she was bothering me…”

“Wasn’t she?” Shirabu looks concerned.

“Ah,” Natsu looks away briskly, her mouth pressing into a thin line, “It’s different. She’s my teammate, so…” The setter eyes her shrewdly. Being teammates isn’t an excuse for Aimi’s behavior, but it pains Natsu to admit she’s having trouble. It isn’t really trouble anyway, just the worry that Aimi would spread the wrong information if Natsu isn’t careful around everyone. “I don’t want to make a fuss.”

“So she has been harassing you,” He surmises quietly. Natsu doesn’t meet his eye, but hears Shirabu sigh. “At least Kawanishi spotted it.”

Her hands ball up into fists at her side. “What does Kawanishi-san have to do with it, anyway?”

Shirabu blinks. “He confronted her about the gossip. Again.” His gaze softens. “You’re not the only one Aimi has hounded for rumors. She basically bullied a girl out of the photography club over some group project last year. And Kawanishi… well, he doesn’t get along with Aimi.”

Natsu winces. “She asks a lot of questions about Kawanishi. About a lot of you, actually…” She looks away. “That’s part of why I stopped having lunch with you all. And I can’t stand listening to Aimi and her friends talk about other people, so I just... wouldn’t sit with anyone at all.”

There’s silence for a long moment.

“...Hinata,” Shirabu says finally, and Natsu reluctantly meets his gaze. Shirabu looks terribly unhappy, and it’s exactly the kind of fuss she wanted to avoid. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that. I wish Goshiki noticed sooner. Or any of us.”

She shakes her head again, tugging on a lock of hair sheepishly. “How would you? I was avoiding everyone.” And besides, Natsu doesn’t want anyone solving her problems. If anything, it seems like Kawanishi made it worse by talking to Aimi himself… Natsu wonders what Kawanishi-san looks like when he’s mad? He’s so quiet, it’s hard to imagine him pissing anyone off.

“Are you still avoiding us?” Shirabu asks pointedly, drawing her out of her thoughts. Natsu looks at him in surprise, and the second year hesitates before continuing. “You said Aimi was only part of the reason you weren’t sitting with me—and Goshiki and everyone.”

Natsu stares at the setter, quietly astonished by his question. Again, of all the people to confront her, she didn’t think it would be Shirabu Kenjirou to worry about their friendship. He’s so serious and sharp with everyone, even his teammates. But he did come all this way to warn her about Aimi.

Her mouth curls upward into a small smile. “I like hanging out with you and your team,” Natsu confesses truthfully. “Maybe not every day, but I already feel like it’s been too long since we’ve talked, right?”

“Mm,” Shirabu is decidedly not looking at her anymore. Natsu eyes him curiously. Aw, he almost seems embarrassed. As if catching her thought, Shirabu clicks his tongue and adds, “Goshiki won’t say it, but he misses you.”

“Ah,” Natsu agrees, trying not to grin too widely. “Goshiki, right.” Shirabu’s eyes narrow.

The warning bell rings, startling them both. “I’ll be on my way then,” the second year states quickly, stepping back.

“I’ll see you later, Shirabu-san,” Natsu laughs as he walks away. His ears are pink.

Goshiki approaches his team at lunch with a thousand-watt smile. “Good afternoon, everyone!” He greets them, and before anyone can even respond, he steps aside to reveal the tiny ginger trailing behind him. “Hinata is back!”

Tendou, sitting on the closer side of the table today, leans over the back of his chair, stretching out like a languid cat until he’s looking at the two first years upside-down. “Natsu-kun, what took you so long?”

She stares down at him, snickering. It’s so strange to have to look down to see Tendou. “Hi, Tendou-senpai,” she greets him without answering the question. "Did you miss me?"

“It’s good to see you,” Ohira nods.

The guess blocker pulls himself back up. “Tsutomu-kun missed you!”

“Senpai,” Goshiki whines, scooting over his chair for Natsu. “I wasn’t the only one that missed you,” he says stubbornly to her.

“I know,” Natsu giggles, pointedly not glancing at Shirabu. The setter makes a disgruntled noise around the carton of milk he’s drinking.

“Oi, Tendou, how’d you do on the math quiz?” Yamagata asks casually from across the table. “I swear, our teacher didn’t cover the chapter properly, it was so confusing.”

“Or you didn’t cover the chapter,” Tendou lilts, resting his chin on one hand. “I got a 90.”

“Hah?!” Yamagata gapes as Ohira congratulates Tendou politely. “No way, you failed the last one. Did you get a tutor? You totally got a tutor. Who is it?”

The guess blocker begins humming a strange tune, looking away from Yamagata to scroll through a manga on his phone. “Hey, is anyone else caught up with The Promised Neverland?”

“Don’t ignore me!” Yamagata howls, tossing a napkin at him.

“I’m serious!” Tendou pouts. “It’s really good, I don’t know why people don’t read it!”

“No one reads manga anymore, we’re too busy,” Shirabu rolls his eyes.

Sagae Yuushou, another first year, straightens up. “I read Kimetsu no Yaiba,” he argues lightly. “I’ve missed the last two chapters, though, so no spoilers.”

Natsu leans past Goshiki to look at Tendou. “Isn’t The Promised Neverland scary?? I only watched the anime, it gave me nightmares. I keep thinking I look like Emma now.”

The third year laughs. “You do look like her, how cute! But the anime only gets to the second arc, the manga’s much further ahead! Did you catch the hints through the library books…” Suddenly Tendou is speaking a lot more to her than usual, and the tidal wave of chatter aimed her way stuns Natsu. She knew he liked manga because he was always scrolling through something on his phone, but Natsu had no idea he could talk so much about it. She does her best to keep up.

“You’ve made a huge mistake, Hinata,” Yamagata murmurs to her. “Now he really won’t shut up.”

“I’m unfriending all of you,” Tendou declares, pointing his chopsticks. “Except Natsu and Yuushou-kun. The rest of you can rot.” He lifts his head to the boy sitting next to Yamagata. “Kai-kun, you can stay if you admit you don’t like Hayato’s hairstyle.”

Akakura Kai flounders, his mouth still full of noodles. “Don’f do this ag’ainf!” He complains, like this is a recurring argument between the players. Natsu finds herself looking more closely at Yamagata, particularly how much gel he’s using to spike up his hair.

The libero notices, unfortunately, and glowers at Tendou. “My hair is fine, Tendou, you ass—”

But Tendou Satori is in a very good mood today, and cranks up the heckling with a careless smirk. “Are you getting styling tips from Eita-kun again?”

Semi pauses mid-bite. For a moment there’s a look of genuine distress on his face before it twists with annoyance. “Why, Tendou? What’s wrong with the way I dress??”

As Tendou opens his mouth to make the situation worse, Natsu feels a tap on her shoulder. She pulls her gaze away from the mounting argument between the boys and sees her fake ginger twin leaning over from behind Tendou’s seat to reach her. “Kawanishi-san,” she greets him quietly. She considers asking him about what happened between him and Aimi, but decides against it. Instead she just smiles. “It’s good to see you.”

He hesitates for a brief second, as if surprised that’s all she has to say. Then his expression softens out of the tight frown he usually wears, and he nods. “Welcome back.”

Chapter Text

Three weeks into her first semester, Natsu’s team ends their afternoon practice with a full-team scrimmage. This time around, the teams are divided evenly with starters and second-string players on both sides. Natsu is on the same team as Utsugi, the captain, and the vice captain leads the other side.

The captain’s team has more offensive power, but they haven’t been able to score yet; every attempt has been snuffed out, either by defenders or the terrifying vice captain, and it’s infuriating. Her team’s getting antsy for another shot on goal. Even the captain looks annoyed as she barks orders to the offense, preparing for a corner kick. Their last two kicks were snatched up by the keeper, and all of them want to avoid it happening a third time.

The thing is, Natsu wants to be the one taking the corner kick. She’s asked the captain twice in a row now, and has been shut down both times, because her kicks aren’t strong enough. But Natsu knows how to do corner kicks—they don’t just need power, they need finesse. Accuracy. If she could practice with the run patterns of her teammates, Natsu knows she could handle it.

For now, she has to settle for being one of the runners. She can do this too. Hell, she might even score, though their chances are slim against the vice captain.

Utsugi raises her hand and lets it drop, signaling them to make runs. The ball is played onto the field, higher than anticipated—not too high, though, it’s reachable—

Natsu jumps.

In the seconds before her head connects with the ball—forehead, hit it with your forehead, don’t break your face—a shadow loomed in the peripheral of Natsu’s vision.

There’s a thud from the ball hitting her forehead, and then a thunk from a face hitting the back of her head.

She yelps as she falls, off-balance, landing in a heap on the grass. Her legs are tangled with someone else’s. Natsu looks back, and nearly faints.

Aone Yui is a third year, the vice captain, and their first-string goalkeeper. She’s 183 centimeters tall and built like a marble statue, severe and larger-than-life. She’s so sturdy and stoic, the team looks up to her both literally and mentally for her steady support.

Seeing her bleed and blink in confusion is more than a little surreal.

I did that.

A few girls squeal in horror, Natsu included. “D-D-Did I b-brea-ak y-your no-ose??” she wails.

The goalkeeper wipes her face, dumbfounded by the bright red streak it leaves on her sleeve. “Hm,” is all she says, pulling off her keeper’s gloves as more players gather around, alternating between screaming and worrying over the two of them. Natsu is pulled to her feet, and someone prods at her hair, pointing out the swollen lump forming on her head.

“What?!” Natsu feels the lump herself, shocked.

Utsugi jogs over, glaring at everyone. “All of you, shut up!” she snaps. “Hinata, go with Aone to the nurse. Hirao!” she bellows, and across the field, a first year leaps off the bench. “Get over here, you’re subbed in.”

“Oi,” Aone growls. “It’s not broken, I can keep playing.” Utsugi’s gaze is razor-sharp.

“You’re not allowed to bleed on the pitch,” the captain snaps, as if she’s angry at Aone herself for getting injured. Then she glares at Natsu, which makes more sense since she’s the one that injured Aone. “Yokoyama! Get over here, you’re on my team!” Natsu deflates, but doesn't argue.

The two girls on the bench scramble to warm up as Aone and Natsu leave the field. Someone passes Aone a towel to mop up the blood on her face.

Her head throbs a bit, but it’s shock that holds Natsu in a daze. They were just practicing, how could it all go so wrong? All she wanted was to play a good game.

“A-Aone-senpai, do you feel dizzy? Even if your nose isn’t broken, you could have a concussion,” Natsu warbles, clinging to the hem of the girl’s shirt and eyes watering. “Please forgive me, I should’ve been thinking about where you’d be when I jumped…” The tall girl waves away Natsu’s concerns, her platinum hair swishing in a sleek fishtail braid behind her head.

“Just Aone,” the keeper says thickly, speaking through the hand towel over her face. Her eyes dart to Natsu’s face expectantly.

“I don’t think I’m concussed either,” she reassures Aone, somehow understanding what’s being asked. She wipes away errant tears. “It wasn’t a hard hit.” The keeper dips her head in a singular, slow nod, conveying her silent agreement with Natsu’s assessment.

When they get to the infirmary, they’re not the only ones there. The nurse looks up and clucks her tongue in annoyance at Aone, and Natsu’s eyes slide past her to the boy sitting on the raised bench, holding an ice pack to his face.

“Semi-senpai,” Natsu blinks in surprise, which quickly morphs into horror at the blossoming bruise over his cheek. She almost cries all over again, seeing another important player injured. “What happened to you? Are you okay?”

Semi, the gray-haired volleyball player that always looked a little angry, flicks his eyes over the sight of her and Aone. His expression shifts to shock. “Jeez, Hinata, did you two get into a fight?”

Aone gives a single shake of her head, and Natsu flushes, mortified at the very thought. “Of course not! It was just a bad collision, we went for the same ball,” she explains mournfully, wiping her tearful face yet again as the nurse ushers Aone aside to clean her nose. Natsu takes a tentative seat beside the volleyball team’s setter.

“Me too,” Semi replies sourly, picking up another ice pack and handing it to her. “I dove to save a ball and hit Yamagata.” He looks at her for a second and, seeing the worry in her eyes, adds, “He wasn’t hurt, and I don’t have a concussion.”

“That’s good, I’m glad,” she sighs, holding the ice pack against the back of her head and grimacing. “Aone got the worst of it.... I shouldn’t have even been in the box,” Natsu gripes, unable to help herself from speaking. Now that the pain has dulled and her worst fears assuaged, all that’s left is her own frustration. “If I’d been taking the corner kick, like I should be, I wouldn’t have been anywhere near Aone, and she wouldn’t have been pulled from the scrimmage. But now I’ve botched up a set piece.” Natsu laments, slapping a hand over her face. She’ll get stuck on near-post guard now, which is barely ever useful. “I know I can do better, but I’ll never get the chance to prove it.”

She has nothing against Utsugi as a captain, but Natsu is going to burst from frustration if things don't change soon. She's good, she can be even better, but Utsugi is too focused on what she knows to consider trying things differently. Natsu is fast, but she's not suited to right wing like Utsugi insists—Natsu likes the center, even if it means going up against larger players, and she can handle it, I know I can handle it, but no one will let me prove it—

“This is your first year,” Semi says suddenly. Natsu jolts a little, craning her head up. She hadn’t even been sure he was paying any attention to her. He still has a sour expression on his face as usual, but his gaze on her is neutral. “I don’t really know how the game works, but you have the next three years on this team to prove yourself, Hinata.”

“Maybe,” she murmurs tiredly. “Or maybe I’ll be second-string my whole life. Or worse, I’ll get the position I want and no one will pass to me, and I’ll still be dead weight.”

“Slow down,” the volleyball player orders abruptly, leveling Natsu with a real glare this time. “Keep thinking that far ahead and you’ll start planning your own retirement.” He looks away, but the irritation remains on his face as if it’s turning inward, brewing up some turmoil of his own.

Natsu doesn’t have Shouyou’s instincts when it comes to knowing what’s wrong, and isn’t so bold to think she has the answers he needs. Instead she accepts the brisk words with a huff of agreement. “Sorry, Semi-senpai. You’re right.”

“Drop the senpai,” he mutters, eyes trained at his knee pads. “I don’t care for it.”

That can’t be strictly true, Natsu figures, because Goshiki always refers to the third years as ‘senpai’. But Aone Yui and Semi Eita are both level-headed and skilled upperclassmen, and Natsu likes the idea of becoming proper friends with each of them.

“Thank you, Semi,” she tells him softly, “I appreciate you listening. And…” Natsu takes her eye off him, roaming over the health posters on the wall across from them instead. “I’ll listen too, if there’s ever something on your mind.”

Semi doesn’t answer, but the silence between them doesn’t feel uneasy. She’s seen the setter snap at his own teammates over lunch a few times—if he were offended, Natsu is sure he would’ve voiced it by now.

Aone returns, her nose and left cheek reddened but clean, and waits patiently for the nurse to check Natsu for a concussion. Semi and Aone exchange a few quiet, polite words as Natus gets a penlight shone in her eyes and answers more questions about the pain and her memory. Thankfully, the knock to her head really does look worse than it actually is. Natsu chews her lip as the nurse collects another ice pack for Aone.

“Aone, I’m so sorry about hitting you. I should’ve let you get the ball…”

But the third year holds up a hand to stop her. “Good goal, Hinata.”

Good goal? What?

Natsu’s jaw drops. The keeper’s face is stern, but there’s humor in her eyes. “Aone, y-you can’t count that! Oh my god. Did they count that?” It was just a practice game between teammates, but the underclassmen rarely scored on their goalkeeper. Hell, no one scored on their goalkeeper. “You can’t be serious.”

“No foul,” Aone points out, unfazed.

“They blew the whistle!” Natsu insists, flummoxed. “It was a—a dangerous play!”

Aone shakes her head. They called a timeout to get Aone off the field once they realized she was bleeding, as it was regulation, but hadn’t penalized Natsu for the collision. A ‘dangerous play’ would’ve been nullified her goal, if the referee had called it. “I didn’t reach the ball, but you did. No foul,” the goalkeeper repeats steadily. “It counts.”

Natsu is still gaping as Aone walks away to the sink, picking at her shirt and turning on the faucet.

Semi taps her knee with his pointer finger to get her attention. “Sounds like you won. Good job.”

“Ha!” She rubs her neck nervously. “Thanks, but I don’t know if the captain sees it that way.”

Aone grumbles. "Don't worry about Rumi, she's just a hardass." Natsu nearly chokes on her own spit, and Semi covers his mouth to muffle the sound of his snorting laughter. Aone shoots Natsu another stern look before returning to the task at hand. She dabs at the bloodstains fruitlessly, unable to clean it out entirely.

“Um. You should try baking soda when you get home,” Natsu suggests softly, shifting the ice pack over her scalp. The shirt stain isn’t much different from the awkward blood stains Natsu dealt with on bedsheets and clothes when she first hit puberty. “A-and run it under cold water, that usually works. If not, I use hydrogen peroxide, but that might leave bleach stains so you have to be careful with it.”

Aone nods thankfully, walking to the door, and Natsu hops off the bench to receive a new ice pack from the nurse. She catches Semi giving her a quizzical look, and raises her eyebrows.

“Uh. Why do you know so much about cleaning bloodstains?” Semi frowns, seeming almost alarmed. “That’s not common knowledge.”

“Ah,” Natsu give a short laugh, but Semi looks like he’s waiting for a serious answer. Natsu definitely does not want to bring this up with a boy, not a handsome third year, so she skirts around the issue. “Well, uh, most girls get some experience with that,” she says weakly.

“What?” Semi gives her a blank look. “Why?”

She should make up an excuse to save them both, but her mind is filling with white noise. If only he could take the hint. Natsu inches towards the exit, red as a tomato, and offers a half-hearted shrug. “Biology,” she blurts out, and darts out the door before he can say any more.

She bumps into Aone’s back on her way out, and the keeper stares down at her with polite concern. *"*Please don’t make a habit of colliding with me."

“I’m sorry,” Natsu blurts out, “It won’t happen again! Since I was in the box I thought I had to make a run, I should’ve stayed out for any rebounds instead, I didn’t mean to—“

“Hinata,” Aone’s voice is soft and high, quite the contradiction from her austere demeanor. The keeper actually needs to shout a lot during practice games in order to direct her defense and the midfielders, but it’s always in a rough, bellowing sort of tone. Her speaking voice is much gentler, even if she's blunt with her opinions. She lifts a large hand and lays it on the crown of Natsu’s head, ruffling her orange curls. “Good jump. Good goal.”

Nothing more needs to be said, because Aone’s message goes beyond words. There’s a certainty in her flinty gaze, one that tells Natsu, Keep doing what you’re doing, I’ll support you.

And Natsu feels her heart swell.

Semi Eita stares at the empty doorway, still concerned. What did Hinata mean by that? Is it because girls are prone to injuries? Is it… gender roles, like girls doing more cleaning tasks or taking on caretaker roles? That’s messed up.

It haunts Eita all the way back to the gym, twisting his expression even more than usual as he performs 50 extra serves for missing practice time. Hinata had looked so flustered by his question, and he has no idea why.

Finally, at the end of their practice after he’s changed out of his sweaty clothes and stuffed his knee pads into his bag, he has the worst epiphany ever. Eita stops dead in his tracks outside of the gym, feeling his face heat up in regret and embarrassment and a small bit of genuine revulsion.

Girls. Blood. Biology.

“Oh, god,” he moans, slapping a hand over his face. Fuck, ow, his cheek still hurts.

All around him, his teammates jolt at his outburst. “Is something wrong, Semi?” Ohira asks in concern. “Does your face still hurt?”

“He’s blushing.” Shirabu, that insufferable second year, sounds far too giddy.

“Nothing,” Eita snaps, brushing off Ohira’s hand on his shoulder. He’ll never be able to look Hinata in the eye again. Eita even has a younger sister, he should know this. “I just—I’m an idiot.”

“We already knew that,” Shirabu pipes up, and Eita fumes.

“No, no, you have to tell us now!” Tendou skips to his other side, eyes wide. “Eita-kun, I’ve never seen you so flustered! I wonder what did this to you?”

“No one,” Eita refutes too quickly, and Tendou latches onto his misstep like a dog with a bone.

“Eitaaa-kuuuun,” he sings, practically dancing around the setter. The team sends him various looks of sympathy, realizing his fate has been sealed. Shirabu just looks on with a shit-eating grin. “Eita-kun, Eitaaa-kun. Who was it that’s got you all flustered? Anyone I know? You were in the infirmary for a while…”

Eita doesn’t meet his eye.

“Ohh? So it is someone I know. A girl?” Eita swears he’s not letting it show on his face, but Tendou proves to be surprisingly perceptive off the court. “Hmmm… Who’d be at the infirmary at this hour? Surely another athlete. I must say, I don’t know a whole lot of girl athletes.” Eita avoids his eye. Tendou snaps his fingers, like a lightbulb went off in his sadistic mind. He turns around towards the locker room. “Heeey, Tsutomu-kun, is Hina—?”

Of course he fucking guessed it.

“Shut up!” Eita jumps on the guess blocker, slamming a hand over his mouth to physically stop the words from escaping. “Shut up, Tendou, he does not need to know!” He hisses, eyes darting around. There’s Shirabu, Ohira, and Ushijima within earshot of them, and Goshiki seems to be lingering in the locker room for now. But would this group of players out him to the rest of the team? There’s no way Hinata would tell Goshiki, right?

His eyes fall to Shirabu, and he scowls. The longer he deliberates, the more fuss Tendou will make. “I just. I asked Hinata a really stupid question.”

“Stupid?” Tendou repeats, unconvinced. His voice is a little muffled through Eita’s hand. “That’s not like you.”

“An embarrassing question,” Eita grits his teeth. “I didn’t realize it. She wouldn’t want me to repeat it, though.” He huffs, sliding his hand off of Tendou’s face. “Seriously, Tendou, don't ask.”

Tendou examines his face for a moment longer, and then backs off, smiling. Shirabu still has his eyes narrowed, but follows Tendou’s direction and does prod him any further. Eita is relieved, for himself and poor Hinata. He’d apologize to her as soon as possible, though he’s not sure he wants to look her in the eye. Eita can't believe it took him so long to connect the dots, but how often does he think about girl anatomy?

Okay, wrong way to phrase it, but still. God damn it. Why him?

“Why was Hinata in the infirmary?” Ohira queries, a small frown of worry on his face. Eita jumps on the opportunity to derail the conversation.

“Ah, she collided with that really tall girl in class 3-2,” Eita says, slowly releasing the tension from his shoulders. “When they walked in, I thought they’d gotten into a fight.”

“Oh? I’m in 3-2,” Tendou says curiously. “You mean Aone Yui-kun? She's my favorite classmate." He lowers his voice to a loud whisper and says to Ushijima, "Don't tell Hayato, but she's tutoring me in math.”

Eita nods. “Yeah, it was Aone. The back of Hinata’s head hit Aone’s face,” he explains the ‘corner kick’ situation to the best of his abilities. He knew soccer was a rough sport, but he hadn’t expected the girls’ team to be just as aggressive.

Tendou cocks his head to one side, surprised. “Yui-kun is huge compared to Natsu, are they okay?”

“They were both fine in the end,” Eita shrugs. “Aone’s nose was bleeding for a while, actually, but they went back out.”

“Whoa,” Ohira almost looks impressed. “Tendou was right, that’s a scary little kouhai.”

“Tooold youuu! Haven’t you learned by now I’m a good guesser?” Tendou calls lyrically. "Ah, my bus is here. Don't go embarrassing yourself again, Semi-Semi!" he advises cheerfully as he slips away.

Shirabu parts from the group with a brief farewell, and Ohira claps Eita on the back. "I'm sure it wasn't that bad," he assures him as he leaves. "Good night, Eita!"

"Good night," Eita calls back, ignoring the rest of what Ohira said. He's just thankful none of them know he—accidentally and unintentionally—asked a girl about menstruation.

Natsu screams into her pillow that evening, beet red. "Biology, why did I say biology?"

"Uhh nee-san, are you good?" Shouyou peeks his head through the door.

"Biology!" Natsu wails again. "Why did I do that??"

"...Biology?" he repeats, dumbfounded. "Did you fail a quiz or something?"

She lays her face flat against a plushie, ignoring Shouyou's concern. She can never look Semi in the eye again.

Chapter Text

For once, Natsu looks forward to the end of practice. Today is Friday, so normal practice ends an hour early. Usually she’ll stay for extra practice, run by Captain Utsugi, but today she declines even though their extra practices are much more interesting than the drills Sameshima has them go through.

“You’re not staying? I think we’re playing a half-field game today, too!” Hirao, a tall and gangly first year goalkeeper, looks astonished at the thought that Natsu wouldn’t want to keep playing. To be fair, Natsu hasn’t missed a single extra practice since Utsugi started inviting the first-years to them.

“I can’t,” Natsu pouts, though the thought of a game is tempting. Half-field games are fun, skill-based challenges, where players can try out outrageously impractical ball moves without worrying as much about losing the ball. Natsu struggles with the move names, as a lot of them are named after the foreigners that first popularized them, but Natsu is determined to know all of them.

Alas, not today. “I promised to watch my brother’s match, his team is playing Aoba Johsai,” Natsu explains.

“Aoba Johsai?” Yokoyama, another first year, tilts her head in befuddlement. “I didn’t know they even had a soccer team, they’re not in our league.”

“They might have a boys’ team,” Hirao suggests, tapping her chin in consideration.

“No, no,” Natsu laughs. “Shouyou plays volleyball, not soccer.”

She’s met with several shouts of confusion and dismay. “You’re leaving us for more volleyball?” Hirao cries. “If you like volleyball so much, why do you play soccer?”

“Hey!” Natsu exclaims, offended. “I can like more than one sport! But I’m a soccer player through and through!”

Yokoyama blows a raspberry at her. “Boo, you’re a traitor,” she jests. “You even sit with Ushijima, Natsu!”

“Well, it’s not like our team sits together,” Natsu points out insistently. She’s felt this way for a while, but she’s never had to opportunity to bring it up to her teammates properly. “If I could sit with all our senpais, I would, but I think Utsugi would kill me!” Yokoyama gives her a contemplative look. Natsu heaves her sports bag over her shoulder with a deep sigh. “I gotta go—good luck playing against Utsugi without your best midfielder!”

“That’s bold,” Ariyoshi says dryly, taking a long pull from her water bottle. She’s another first year, but doesn’t talk much. “I’m telling Nakajima you said that.”

Nakajima Emi, their starting center midfielder (whom Natsu is lowkey trying to usurp). She’s quite similar to Utsugi, all things considered. “Uwahh!” Natsu panics, holding up her hands beseechingly. “Please don’t! She’ll definitely break my legs!”

“Don’t you have a bus to catch?” Hirao points out.

“Yes! Ariyoshi—please—!” she stammers out to her teammates.

“Run, Hinata,” Ariyoshi advises her imperiously, eyes flashing. Natsu sprints.

Natsu makes it to Seijou early and feels a little out of place. She changed into her casual clothes, jeans and a jacket emblazoned with the logo of the Urawa Red Diamonds, which doesn’t stand out as much as her school uniform probably would, but it’s obvious she’s here as a visitor and not a student by the way she keeps swiveling around to stare at everything in sight. Despite her worries about getting lost, Natsu successfully locates the front desk to sign in.

The secretary looks particularly frazzled, in the middle of a phone call, and scribbles out a visitor’s pass with sharp lines and a pinched frown on her face.

“Thank you,” Natsu says, carefully sticking the badge on her jacket.

“Yes, yes, be on your way now,” the secretary makes a shooing motion with her free hand.

“Okay,” she agrees, sensing the woman’s sour mood. “But, wait, where’s the—?“

The secretary’s withering glare makes Natsu shut up and hurry on down the corridor. Seijou’s campus is very different from that of Shiratorizawa, but it can’t be that hard to find the gym, right?

Wrong. So, so wrong. Natsu quickly finds herself walking in circles, totally lost. She checks her phone for a message from Shouyou, but he doesn’t reply to any of her texts. He might not even be here yet, she didn’t see a visiting bus…

Resolving to ask a student for help instead, she follows the sound of young voices around the corner.

“Hello? Excuse me?” Natsu calls out politely, eyes focused on the group of girls passing by. She even waves her arms, but they give no indication that they see her. Instead, a tall upperclassmen takes notice and moves towards Natsu.

For the briefest moment, she simply gapes at him.

He’s. Very muscular.

“Are you lost?” he asks with a frown. Natsu stiffens a little under his gaze, though all he’s doing is looking over her casual clothing and visitor’s badge with skepticism. He’s darkly tanned and has spiky hair, a bit like Yamagata Hayato, but with angrier eyebrows and bigger biceps. He’s not even in gym clothes but his blazer is almost too tight over his arms, but maybe that’s Natsu’s imagination.

What is she doing? He’s probably just a third year athlete, she knows like a dozen third years. The only ones she’s intimidated by are Aone and Utsugi, because they’re amazing.

“Y-Yeah,” Natsu admits, diverting her attention from his arms to his face. He doesn’t seem to be in the best of moods, but if he’s an athlete he must know where the gym is. “I’m trying to watch the volleyball practice match with Karasuno? I’m kind of early, otherwise I’d just look for my brother.”

He raises an eyebrow, which softens him into looking more intrigued than irritated. “Your brother’s on our team? What’s his name?”

Our team? Natsu’s eyes widen a little. “He’s on Karasuno’s team, actually,” Natsu corrects the boy hastily, adjusting the strap of her bag so she can hold out a hand. “I’m Hinata, nice to meet you?”

He shakes her hand, looking a little bemused at the formality—Natsu feels the same way, she’s not sure why she chose to do this, and also his hands are really big compared to hers—and then gestures down the hall. “I’m Iwaizumi. I’m headed over there anyway, you can watch from the upper balcony.”

Natsu sighs in relief, quickly following a step behind him. He’s much more polite than she expected. “Thank you, I-Iwaizumi-san. This place is more confusing than I thought.”

“Yeah, it’s a bigger school that Karasuno,” Iwaizumi agrees benignly, but Natsu chews on her lip.

“I haven’t seen that campus, actually. I don’t go to the same school as my brother,” she tells him tentatively. Iwaizumi glances back at her in question, and Natsu just lifts her sports bag higher for him to see the Shiratorizawa name emblazoned on the side.

“Oh, shit,” he blurts out in surprise, freezing in place. Natsu jolts, taken off guard by his abrupt curse. Iwaizumi’s eyebrows shoot up. “Fuck, I don’t mean to—sorry, sorry, I’m just surprised!”

Her brow furrows in puzzlement.

“Iwa-chan, do you always use such vulgar language around girls?” Someone asks from the edge of the gym. "No wonder you don't have a girlfriend."

Ouch, Natsu thinks sympathetically.

It’s like a switch turned on. Iwaizumi’s face morphs into fury, and he whips around to glare at the speaker. “Shittykawa!”

Natsu peeks around Iwaizumi to see another tall student carrying a gym bag, smiling impishly back at them. He’s a bit taller than Iwaizumi, and very handsome with windswept brown hair. “Hey there, has Iwa-chan offended you? I’m very sorry for his brutish ways,” he greets Natsu with a victory sign.

“Oi, you want a volleyball to the face?” Iwaizumi warns him, a vein bulging at his temple.

“I, uh—” Natsu stutters, drawing both their eyes. “I’m not offended,” she promises, glancing at Iwaizumi. Really, he doesn't seem so bad, even if she doesn't know why he cursed so suddenly.

Iwaizumi folds his arms, inscrutable. “I'm just shocked that a Shiratorizawa student would come to one of our practice matches.”

She huffs, about to reiterate that she’s here for her brother, having nothing to do with her own school, but the other volleyball player speaks up first.

“Shiratorizawa?” The brown-haired boy zeroes in on her bag almost immediately. “Oh.” His voice is flat. “You’re from Ushiwaka’s team. They’re sending cute managers to spy on me now?”

Natsu blinks. Managers? Spying? Was that a normal thing in volleyball? She doesn't like the look on his face now, even if he is really handsome. “I’m not from Ushijima’s team and I’m not a manager. Why would I—who are you?”

He blinks owlishly back at her. “Eh?”

Iwaizumi walks up to the boy and gives him a hard smack on the shoulder, making him yelp. “Not everything is about you, Shittykawa.”

“I’m here for Karasuno, like I said,” Natsu says shortly, not liking the way the taller student is talking. “Thank you for showing me where the gym is, Iwaizumi-san, I’ll let you get back to practice—”

“Now, wait just a minute,” The pretty guy protests. “You came all the way from Shiratorizawa, but it’s not about me?”

She looks closely at the older student. He is very handsome, but sort of smug too. Natsu keeps up with Goshiki pretty well when he talks about volleyball, but she’s hardly an expert on the boys’ league. And Seijou doesn’t even have a soccer team, so she really doesn’t know much about this school, or this player for that matter. “Yes?”

“Oh my god,” Iwaizumi murmurs, a delighted expression crossing his face. “You really don’t know who he is. I love this.”

“So mean, Iwa-chan!” The boy cries, stalking closer to Natsu. He doesn’t stop until he’s just a few feet from her, a strange smile fixed in place. He holds out a hand to her. “I’m Oikawa Tooru.”

“H-Hinata Natsu,” she replies, returning the handshake like with Iwaizumi—except instead of shaking her hand, he clasps it gently between his palms and offers her a wide, dazzling grin. This reinforces her first impression of him being ridiculously handsome, and Natsu feels her cheeks redden at the attention.

“Nacchan,” he says cheerfully, and Natsu thinks she might combust. It’s one thing to befriend her senpais and hang out with the boys’ team, but it’s a totally different and new thing to hold hands like this. Oikawa’s hands are also large and his fingers are oddly elegant despite all the calluses and scratches. She didn’t even know fingers could be elegant. “I look forward to getting to know you.”

“O...kay?” Natsu says helplessly, relieved when he releases her hand. Iwaizumi groans from somewhere behind Oikawa.

“Are you a first year, Nacchan?”

“...Yes,” she admits cautiously, eyes flickering back to Iwaizumi. “Don’t you have to go?” Natsu points out weakly. "To practice?"

“Ah, I just have to check in with the coach, but I’m more interested in talking to you!” He sounds so nice, but Natsu can’t help but think this feels all very practiced. “So, you’re a Shiratorizawa student? That's too bad. That looks like a club activity bag, are you on the girls’ volleyball team? Why didn't you choose Seijou?” he asks the last question emphatically, and Iwaizumi scoffs. She feels like she's being mocked.

Natsu fidgets with the strap of her bag. “I play soccer for Shiratorizawa. Seijou doesn't even have a club team, so I don't know much about your school.”

“Soccer?” He stares down at her blankly.

“Yeah,” Natsu waits a beat before asking again, “Didn’t you say you have to speak with your coach?”

Oikawa jolts suddenly, and Iwaizumi appears at his back, hauling him away with a firm grip on his collar. He goes from glaring daggers at Oikawa to casting Natsu an apologetic look, and the contrast in his expression is almost comical. Iwaizumi really is very polite, and Natsu appreciates it. “Yes, he does. Sorry for this guy’s crappy personality, Hinata,” Iwaizumi says genuinely, giving her a quick bow and forcing Oikawa to do the same.

Oikawa squawks at the insult, but Natsu finds herself holding back a giggle as she bows back. “I don’t mind,” she says again, “That’s why you’re around, ne?”

Iwaizumi and Oikawa both gawk at her, and Natsu worries she’s overstepped with her comment—then Oikawa pouts and Iwaizumi barks with laughter, dragging away the other player with renewed glee. “That’s exactly right, Hinata. Y’here that, Shittykawa? I offset your shittiness.”

“How awful. Your horribleness is rubbing off on others,” Oikawa whines. “Quit ruining my reputation, Iwa-chan.”

They disappear into the gym, but Natsu hears Iwaizumi’s parting comment of “You do that all on your own,” before they’re completely gone.

Natsu grins to herself and follows the signs that take her to the upper railing along the side of the indoor court.

Natsu gets through half an English assignment and all of her math packet before Karasuno arrives and begins their warm ups. She wouldn’t have been so productive if not for Ideguchi, a boy in her class (that is also interested in the horses on their campus, she worked up the nerve to introduce herself after she caught him baby-talking to the ponies in the stable), who texted her pictures of the three formulas she’s supposed to use in math but didn’t copy down properly in her notes.

Shouyou doesn’t see her in the upper level when his team enters the gym. His head is constantly swiveling around, trying to take in everything at once. She knew he’d be nervous, but wow, her brother is such a spaz sometimes. He disappears out of the gym as quickly as he came before she can call out to him.

Natsu leans forward, trying to guess which teammate is which, and eventually, one of them spots her—and immediately scowls.

“Hinata! What the hell are you doing up there?!” The black-haired boy snaps. A few more eyes turn up to see her.

“What?!” Shouyou squeaks, reappearing in the doorway. Both Natsu and the angry boy—and several more teammates—whip around to look at her brother.

“What the hell?!” The dark-haired boy, who must be Kageyama, jerks back in shock. “You teleported!” He points an accusatory finger at Shouyou.

“Hah?!” Shouyou cries. “I’m too nervous to teleport, K-Kageyama!”

Natsu slaps a hand over her mouth, but her giggles are loud enough to carry over the court anyway. Kageyama spins around to face her again.

“Who the hell is that?!” he demands, looking almost frightened. “Dumbass Hinata, you have a—a—?”

“A sister?” someone suggests tentatively, looking up at Natsu with wide eyes. Natsu peers back at him and waves, but the boy flushes and turns away.

“Nacchan!” Shouyou finally registers her presence, leaping to his feet and waving with both hands. “You made it!”

She beams back at him, always put in a better mood after seeing Shouyou. “Why are you surprised?! I said I would!”

“WE HAVE A FAN!” a bald boy hollers, falling to his knees. “A BEAUTIFUL GIRL FAN!” A taller boy promptly smacks the back of his head and calls out an apology to her. Natsu doesn’t quite grimace, because she doesn’t want to be rude, but she didn’t like the idea of them treating her like a cheerleader.

“That’s a girl-Hinata?” Kageyama says, dumbfounded. “What the hell is this?”

“That’s my sister!” Shouyou bounces up and down, jittery like the time he drank their father’s coffee out of curiosity. “N-Natsu! You better watch close, w-we’ve got some awesome moves, this is Kageyama!!”

Shouyou’s nervous, but he does better when he doesn’t overthink things, so she doesn’t mention it. “Hi, Kageyama-kun,” Natsu waves pleasantly. “Good luck!”

Kageyama looks like he might faint. So does the bald guy. The boy from earlier, the one with freckles, risks another glance her way. He makes eye contact with her and yelps, hiding behind a very tall blonde teammate. She leans carefully against the railing so she won’t have to shout at them to be heard.

“You two must be Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, right?” Natsu nods to the blonde guy. He’s the only one with glasses, after all. “I’m Hinata Natsu.”

Tsukishima seems startled by her addressing him, eyes darting around. “... I’m Tsukishima,” he confirms, far more subdued than Shouyou has lead her to believe. Is it that strange for her to watch them play?

“She knows our names!” The freckled guy, presumably Yamaguchi, whispers loudly to his friend’s shoulder.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima mutters back.

“Do you know my name?!” the bald guy asks desperately. “Hinata, you’ve mentioned me too, right?!”

Natsu bites her lip. “I… don’t know, sorry.” She glances at Tsukishima. “Shouyou complains a lot about you, though.”

Tsukishima gives Shouyou a dirty look, making him yelp in fear.

“Nacchan, shut it!” her brother warns, pointing a threatening finger at her.

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Natsu grins. “Serve a ball at me?” Like he'd ever hit her, his aim is dreadful. Her eyes flash with amusement. She can’t help but razz him a little bit, after all. He knows she’s teasing.

Shouyou wails while his teammates snicker at him. “You’re supposed to be here to support meeee!”

“If you receive a ball with your face I’ll try to catch it on video,” she vows, giving him a thumbs up. Shouyou pales, and ducks away to hide his face.

“Hinata, your sister is brutal,” Yamaguchi murmurs, slightly awed, slightly pitying.

“She’s much cooler than you,” Tsukishima adds, completely unsympathetic. Natsu thinks she likes those two.

“I’m Tanaka! Please watch me crush Aoba Johsai!” the bald player cries.

She huffs. Tanaka reminds her of Yamane, one of the strikers on her team who’s constantly harassing classmates to come watch their practices and cheer her on when she scores goals against their reserve goalkeeper. “Um, do your best, Tanaka-san?” Natsu offers halfheartedly.

Tanaka looks close to tears suddenly grabbing Shouyou by the collar of his shirt. “Hinata! Where have you been hiding this precious sister all this time?!” Yeah, he’s exactly like Yamane, tears and all.

Shouyou squawks again, smacking at Tanaka’s hands. “Oi! Don’t inflate her ego anymore, she’s a terror!”

“Nonsense! How could you talk about an angel this way??” Shouyou and Tanaka begin to argue loudly, and a third player gets involved trying to shut them up.

Natsu doesn’t want to yell over the two of them, so she glances at the nearest player, a gray-haired boy with a cute mole beneath his eye, who gives her a polite smile. “I don’t go to Karasuno, otherwise I would’ve said hello sooner,” she explains quietly. “Plus, I have my own practices and games to attend. I play soccer for Shiratorizawa.”

“Oh, I see,” the player says brightly. “That’s an intense school, you must be very skilled.” Natsu beams. He’s like a breath of fresh air after being introduced to Tanaka and the first year players. “I’m Sugawara Koushi by the way, Karasuno’s vice captain.” He takes the time to point out the rest of the players and tell her all their names.

Natsu scans the group of Karasuno students with a slight frown. “Sugawara-san… does your team have a libero?” Not that there couldn't be one among the players she sees, but the libero wears a different jersey in matches so the referee knows who they are.

His eyes widen in pleasant surprise. “You really know your stuff, huh?” He laughs. “No, we’re… missing a couple of players right now.” Sugawara’s bright energy dims for a moment, before he shakes his head and grins again. “But I’m sure we’ll get by! Our first years seem quite promising, your brother especially.”

She glances back at Shouyou, who’s being reprimanded by his captain and Kageyama, and smiles. “Shouyou has a lot of drive. Good luck handling them all, Sugawara-san,” Natsu teases.

Sugawara chuckles. “So far, they’re worth the trouble.”

The first set goes terribly for Shouyou. Natsu keeps her mouth decidedly shut, but she does take a secretive picture of Kageyama hovering over Shouyou, smacking the back of his own head with a demonic look on his face. Honestly, she can feel her brother’s utter fear from across the gymnasium. She'd only been joking about Shouyou being that terrible at serving, but he ended up losing the set for Karasuno by hitting a ball directly into his setter. Natsu saves the picture on her phone and thinks, This is for your own good, Shoucchan. One day, you’ll think this is funny.

She sees Iwaizumi on the other side of the court, but Oikawa must’ve left sometime before Karasuno arrived while she was working on her homework. Natsu thinks that’s weird, since she’d expected Oikawa to be a regular too. Iwaizumi catches her looking at him once, and raises a hand in acknowledgement. Natsu waves back, but doesn’t try to talk to him. He was jumping all over the place in the first set, scoring most of Aoba Johsai’s points, and must be tired.

“Oh, do you know Iwaizumi-san?” a voice asks from her right side. It’s a student from Seijou, leaning against the rail with two girls to watch the match like Natsu.

“Not really,” Natsu confesses, shrugging. “He just helped me find the gym. My brother’s there on Karasuno’s team,” she doesn’t point him out, because she’s heard the Seijou students comment on and off about Karasuno’s #5 and it’s pretty obvious she's related to the hyperactive ginger on the court.

“Ooh, he’s not doing so well, is he?” the boy says, though his tone makes it hard for Natsu to tell if he’s being sympathetic or mocking.

Natsu plasters on a smile, regardless. “He’s just getting started.”

In the next set, Natsu finally sees The Quick Attack, capitalization necessary. Shouyou’s attack is insane to watch in person. It goes by in the blink of an eye, and Natsu relishes in the awed sounds of the Seijou students watching. Her brother’s raw athleticism is beginning to pay off, but Natsu isn’t blind—Kageyama is some kind of beast on the volleyball court. That kind of pinpoint accuracy isn’t normal.

Her phone buzzes suddenly, and Natsu waits for the ball to hit the ground before looking at the text.

goshiki: How’s the match going? We’re playing Kakugawa, won the first set on Semi’s ace serve!!

Natsu raises a critical eyebrow at the message from Goshiki.

hinata:  🙌✌That’s great! But are you allowed to have your phone out right now?? 👀🙊

hinata: Aoba Johsai won the first set, but right now it’s 10 - 09 Karasuno! 💪

“Aoba Johsai?”

The very words have become taboo at Shiratorizawa. Goshiki is the one to say it, peering down at the phone he definitely shouldn’t have out. Eita glances at the first year and groans. It’s obvious to all of them why he’s dawdling on his phone right now, the same way it was obvious he was moping during their warm up—Hinata Natsu was cheering on Karasuno’s team instead of theirs.

Ushijima appears like a wraith summoned by a forbidden spell. The second and third years have watched the weird tension-rivalry-obsession between Ushijima and Oikawa grow over the past two years of playing against Seijou in official matches, but the first years hadn’t been informed yet. “What about Aoba Johsai?” he asks calmly, targeting Goshiki like a heat-seeking missile.

“Hah?” The first year looks up, baffled by the sudden attention. “Sorry, senpai!” He quickly  goes to hide his phone behind his back.

Ushijima just stares back evenly. “Why did you mention Aoba Johsai?”

Goshiki gives him an owlish look. “Um. Well. Hinata?”

Eita takes a good look at the ace’s face, and quickly assesses Ushijima’s blank expression as him actually drawing a blank. Amazing how oblivious their captain can be. “He means Natsu-kun, his girlfriend,” Eita informs the taller boy, making Goshiki splutter at the insinuation. Tendou talks the most to Ushijima out of the whole team, and so Eita figures their captain was more familiar with Tendou's name for the first year girl. “She’s watching Karasuno’s practice match.”

“...So, Karasuno is playing Seijou,” Ushijima surmises, eyes flickering to Goshiki for confirmation.

“Uh, yes, that’s what Natsu-kun—I mean Hinata, that’s what Hinata says,” the first year admits, slowly pulling his phone up like a cautious cat, testing what he can get away with. The coaches aren’t looking, and the rest of the team won’t squeal on him, so Goshiki turns the screen to Ushijima. “Karasuno is in their second set, looks like.”

Ushijima promptly takes that as an invitation to pluck Goshiki’s phone from his hand to inspect the message himself. “She also says, Now it’s 18 - 16, Karasuno’s setter is god-tier. Shocked face.”

Eita snorts loudly. “Shocked face.”

“Oh,” Goshiki blinks down at the screen, pressing his lips together. He clearly doesn’t enjoy the fact that Ushijima is looking through his phone but is too afraid to point it out. Eita suspects Ushijima knows it’s inappropriate—he's not that socially inept—and is taking advantage of Goshiki’s hesitance. “Well, she’ll think differently when she finally watches us play!”

“Yes,” Ushijima agrees. Then he types out a message and sends it before Goshiki realizes what’s happened.

“H-Hey!” The first year yelps, scandalized. “Senpai, that’s—”

“Focus, Tsutomu-kun!” Tendou skips over, setting his water bottle aside. “You don’t want the coaches to see that phone out!”

Natsu’s phone vibrates again as Karasuno inches towards victory.

goshiki: Is Oikawa Tooru playing right now?

That’s super weird for Goshiki to ask, since she’s never even heard the name Oikawa until today. But in fact, it looks like Karasuno isn’t the only team with missing players. The Seijou students had mentioned both Oikawa and another team member, the Mad Dog, who isn’t on the court today. They mostly seemed concerned over Oikawa’s absence though, so maybe he’s something of a big deal after all. He certainly acted like it around Natsu.

But then again, Goshiki acts like he’s a big deal too, and he’s never grabbed her hands and introduced himself like a movie star.

(Asking for Ushijima-senpai!) says the next message, just as the whistle blows and Karasuno takes the second set. Natsu finally replies.

hinata: Oikawa isn’t here. (Why did Ushijima ask??) 😮

goshiki: (I don’t know, so weird!) Oh snap Washijo saw me I’m

Natsu waits a beat, but no further message is received.

hinata: Did you die? I did warn you, Goshiki. 💀⚰️🙏

Still no reply. Karasuno does another group huddle, and she can hear Shouyou’s excited shout as they break for water.

goshiki: ✨Natsu!! ✨

Ah. Someone else is using Goshiki’s phone. Her friend never uses emojis, or her given name.

goshiki: ✨This is your favorite senpai! Our second set is starting, wish us luck!✨🙌

Goshiki’s team is so weird. Natsu can’t help but laugh, and obligingly sends one last message.

hinata: 💖🙌Good luck everyone! Tendou, please return the phone :) ✌✌

The Seijou students along the balcony suddenly start to scream, startling the hell out of Natsu. Or, no, they’re squealing, waving hands frantically down at the court. Oikawa Tooru is lazily making his way over to the coach’s bench.

Tendou swoons dramatically as he tosses Goshiki’s phone into a random gym bag. “Natsu-kun sent me a heart, I’m at 120% right now!” he sings as he skips onto the court. Their overeager first year watches the guess blocker, looking mildly betrayed, but he’s been called up onto the court for now and keeps his mouth shut.

Eita would scold them, but then Tendou really does block like four spikes in a row, and Goshiki manages a diagonal attack while they’re in a tight spot, so maybe Hinata’s encouragement did mean something. Personally, Eita may or may not still be reeling over his last conversation with the soccer player, so he’s not so disappointed by her absence.

From the sidelines, he hears a buzzing noise from one of the bags. It’s Yunohama’s bag, and the second year goes to rifle through his things and finds—of course, Goshiki’s phone.

“Yuno-kun,” Eita warns, quickly glancing back at the coaches. “Don’t look at it.”

“It was in my bag,” Yunohama reasons, which is no reasoning at all, but he flips open the cellphone and peeks at the next message anyway. “...Huh.”

The reserve members remain quiet, eyes on the court, for all of thirty seconds before Akakura asks, “What’s it say?”

Instead of answering, Yunohama just passes the phone around surreptitiously, and each player takes a look and reacts with varying levels of shock and laughter. When it finally gets passed to Eita, he scowls at his underclassmen but reads the texts anyway.

hinata: 😮Oikawa is back. Is he Ushijima’s rival? That would make sense. 👀

And then a second message, the more recent one. What a TOOL 😤😤💢💢

Eita stares. He looks up at the caller ID just to be sure he’s looking at a text from Hinata. Is this really the same kouhai that nearly cried over Eita's stupid injury from practice? Something must have happened to make her speak so negatively of Oikawa this quickly. Eita knew Aoba Johsai's setter was an ass, but what business did he have with Hinata?

goshiki: Are you okay? What did he do?

Eita texts back, and doesn’t realize how absurd and hypocritical he’s being until Soekawa scoffs next to him.

goshiki: This is Semi, btw

hinata:❓👋Hi Semi-san, is everyone reading this now?? 😾❓👋

hinata: I'm fine. Oikawa is 🙅Now, get off Goshiki’s phone! 🚫🚫

Her answer doesn't really explain her strong opinion of Oikawa, but she has a point. Eita shuts the phone and places it back in Goshiki’s bag, resolving to ask her about Oikawa on Monday... meaning he has to look her in the eye... nevermind, he's sure Goshiki will find out.

Chapter Text

Yamagata Hayato stares down at his own chicken scratch handwriting with an intensity better suited for Nationals than his lunch break dilemma. He glares at the pencil lines and eraser marks with disdain, sucking on a carton of chocolate milk. No one pays him much attention, assuming he’s trying to study for math. Ever since Tendou refused to reveal his studying tricks that got him a 90 on the last quiz, Hayato’s been in a mood.

“Where’s our littlest kouhai?” Tendou wonders, sitting across from the libero and swinging his head around. “She better give us the inside scoop on Aoba Johsai, otherwise what was the point of her missing our match?”

Reon sighs. “You guys are awful. None of you should have been looking at Tsutomu’s phone in the first place.”

Eita keeps his eyes steadily fixed on his notes from Japanese Lit. He does want to know why Hinata thinks Oikawa Tooru is a tool, but Reon has a point.

“I also want to know her thoughts on the match,” Ushijima replies, utterly shameless. He turns to Ohira. “She confirmed that Oikawa returned to the court at some point. I heard he’s recovering from a minor sprain. Something that would never happen here.”

Ohira shares a helpless look with Soekawa. “Wakatoshi, please. You’re obsessed.”

Ushijima simply stares back at Ohira stubbornly, like a cat slowly pushing a vase over while making eye contact with their owner. “I’m right. Oikawa should have come to—”

“Hey guys!” Hinata appears between Yamagata and Soekawa, setting her lunch tray down with a flourish. “Goshiki is running late, congrats on beating Kakugawa! They’re pretty tough, huh? Well done!” 

The players thank her with varying levels of enthusiasm. “Natsu-kun,” Ushijima addresses her before she can even sit down, as her eyes linger over Yamagata’s shoulder. 

Hinata snorts. “Natsu-kun,” she repeats to herself, astonished. Her eyes land on Tendou for a moment, mildly accusatory. “Is that really gonna catch on?”

The guess blocker gives her a cheeky smile while Ushijima presses onward. “Did you see Oikawa play?“

“Eh?” She looks up from Yamagata’s notes, bewildered. “Oh, not really. He served a few times but it was too late to save the set.” She slides into the seat beside Yamagata. 

“I see.” Ushijima murmurs. “Why do you find him distasteful?”

The first year shoots him a reproachful look. “Man… Goshiki needs to put a passcode on his phone if you’re all gonna be this nosy,” she snipes back, and at least three players can’t make eye contact with her. Ushijima is not one of them. Hinata clicks her tongue, realizing he’s not about to drop the conversation. “Does it matter? I just don’t like him. He’s really good at volleyball, duh, but as a person, he’s—” She makes a so-so gesture with his hand. 

“You met him?” Tendou surmises, eyebrows raised. “You can’t make that kind of judgement from the way someone acts on the court.”

Hinata’s face scrunches up a little. “Yeah, we talked,” she admits with unmistakably reluctance. “He said hello to me when I was looking for the gym. And then we talked again, after he lost to Karasuno.” She looks away from Tendou and Ushijima pointedly, and misses the curious glances exchanged between the third years. 

Eita bites on the inside of his cheek. Oikawa was a hell of a setter, but his reputation went far beyond that. Wasn’t Oikawa popular with girls? Hinata’s aversion seemed less about any sort of loyalty to Karasuno and more of a personal issue. Something swells in Eita then, like a weird protective urge kick-started by the uneasy look on Hinata’s face. Eita is the oldest of four, so it’s not a totally foreign compulsion, but he’s surprised that it’s Hinata of all people to trigger it. He cares a lot about his younger teammates, even the stubborn Shirabu, but none of them made him want to kick Oikawa Tooru’s ass this much. 

“We’ve all met Oikawa before, we know how he can get. What did he say to you, Hinata?” Kawanishi asks, not looking up from his noodles. His voice is deceptively apathetic. Eita would have assumed Taichi was only taking a superficial interest in the conversation, if it weren’t for his iron-like grip on his chopsticks. The whole ‘ginger siblings’ thing may have started out as a joke, but Eita’s known for a while that Kawanishi genuinely looked out for Hinata like a brother would. 

Hinata is too busy stirring curry into her rice to notice this, though. 

“Oh, nothing really,” the girl insists, plastering on a smile. “It’s not that important—ah! Yamagata-senpai!” Hinata laughs abruptly, sounding so startled that it draws all their eyes. “Where did you get that?”

The libero jolts in his seat, meeting her wide eyes. “What?!” He gasps right back, raising up his notebook. “Hinata-chan, you know what this is?!”

Hinata makes a sound, something between a scream and a gasp, and covers her gaping mouth with a hand. “You—you don’t—?” And then she devolves into giggles, bright and bubbly and a total 180 from her attitude about Oikawa Tooru. Either Hayato had something really fascinating on his notebook or Hinata was trying to derail the conversation, but Eita was leaning towards the former. Hinata wasn’t very good at deception. 

She gives the libero a skeptical look. “Ya-Yamagata, oh my goodness—please t-tell me you’re joking!”

“Hah?!” Yamagata looks distressed by her reaction. “I’m not, I’ve been trying to figure it out all morning,” he admits, which just makes Hinata laugh harder. She actually slaps both hands over her mouth so she doesn’t make too much of a scene.

Soekawa subtly takes a peek at the notebook in question, and Yamagata immediately goes on the defensive, pulling the paper up against his chest so no one will see it. The vice captain shoots them a perplexed look. “It’s just a graph, isn’t it? I thought you were doing math homework.”

“Nope!” Hinata chirps, slowly regaining her calm. Her face remains flushed with color from her outburst, though. “I know what I saw, that’s not math.”

“Then what is it?” Yamagata pleads, hesitantly lowering the notebook for everyone to see. “It’s driving me crazy.”

It’s a pencil drawing of a graph. Four arrows pointing in the cardinal directions in a square. Eita’s seen a similar drawing used to explain political groups. In each quadrant, instead of graph points, there are names. Volleyball player names. 

Eita glances at Tendou to see if he gets it, but the redhead looks just as lost as Ohira, Soekawa, and Ushijima. The arrows are labeled with single English letters, and the placement of names seems deliberate in some way. Eita somehow doubts it has anything to do with their volleyball stats.

“Uh….?”

Kawanishi, surprisingly, is the only one to react differently. “Oh,” he mumbles, snorting into his hand. “Wow, who made this?”

“Right?” Hinata agrees, delighted. “Someone really likes volleyball players.”

Eita is definitely not the only one reacting to that statement. He stares at the graph harder, as if that’ll reveal its secrets. Likes volleyball players, as in, like-like? Or did she mean that in an obsessive kind of way? Or a platonic way? Or a rival-manager-spying-on-us kind of way?

“Hah?” Shirabu looks between the paper and Kawanishi, clearly pissed off that he’s also out of the loop even though his name is on the paper. “What is it? Is it some kind of insult?”

“No,” Hinata answers firmly. “N-not at all, I promise.”

“Then what’s it about?” Eita asks, frustrated.  His own name is at the very top of the ‘graph’ and even if it’s not outright insulting, of course he wants to know what it means. At the same time, he gets the feeling they'll never know what Oikawa did to upset Hinata. But the strange chart Hayato's been struggling over is very distracting. “Why’s my name on it? Where’d you even get this, Hayato?”

Yamagata sets the paper down thoughtfully, and shuffles his belongings over so Hinata can overlook his ‘work’. “I overheard some classmates say my name, and I looked at what they were writing—I only got a glimpse before they noticed and covered it up, so I couldn’t read everything on it.”

He taps the paper with a small frown. “What’s it mean? Kawanishi?”

“Oh, no,” the second year puts up his hands. “I’m no expert.”

Hinata gives him a dirty look. “Neither am I,” She rolls her eyes, hands folded tightly over her chest. “None of you have seen this before besides Kawanishi-san?”

“Nope!” Tendou chirps, leaning in. “And I feel very left out. Quit leaving us hanging, Natsu-kun, Taichi-kun.”

Hinata’s eyes are fixed to the paper on the table, a contemplative look crossing her face as Yamagata slides it in front of her. “Well, I can’t just leave you all in the dark,” Hinata sighs. She asks Yamagata for his pen and raises her head to make eye contact with all of the students whose names appear on the paper. “Don’t take this too seriously, guys.”

Eita doesn’t like where this is going. Ohira looks worried too. 

Hinata writes on the paper, properly labeling the four arrows. The left arrow says “Pretty” and the right arrow says “Handsome”. The down arrow says “Cute” and the top arrow, where Eita’s name is written, says “Hot”.

Eita stares at the graph. It was drawn by a bunch of third-year classmates, according to Yamagata. “Oh,” he mumbled, eyeing Hinata again. She just raises her eyebrows at him, and he’s reminded that she didn’t make the graph, she only labeled it. her ears are kind of red, though. “Someone does like volleyball players, huh.”

“I don’t get it,” Ushijima declares at last, breaking the temporary silence that’s fallen over the table. He points to his name, located farthest down the ‘handsome’ axis. “What determines the difference between these?”

“Don’t complain, Wakatoshi-kun,” Tendou scolds him lightly, tilting his head at the page. His own name is in the fourth quadrant, between cute and handsome. “This is way better than what I thought it’d be.”

Hinata laughs again. “Yamane-san told me about it. It's not too serious,” she points out quickly. “But the idea is that if you’re hot, you can’t also be cute. And being handsome isn’t the same as being pretty. So… this.”

Eita can kind of see the appeal of the graph. The choice of where to place a person on the ‘spectrum’ means you have to argue why one person is cute rather than hot, and… well, at least it’s not cute versus ugly. He narrows his eyes at the paper. “Hinata?” He eyes the girl curiously. “You’ve never seen one with our names on it before, right?”

“Right,” she confirms. 

“So… how did you know which arrow was which?” Eita points out. Yamagata laughs. 

“Huh?”

Tendou hums with delight. “You figured it out so quickly, Natsu-kun! What gave it away?”

The first year stares at Tendou for a while, looking like a deer in headlights. Then her expression smooths over. “You’re just fishing for compliments now,” she declares frankly. “They already were labeled with letters, P for pretty. C for cute, so I knew where to write,” she answers, before looking back at the paper thoughtfully. “If this was drawn up by third years, it makes sense that most of the underclassmen are below the horizontal axis. It’s kind of a maturity thing, like the younger you act the cuter you seem.”

So how old did that make Eita? Was it a bad thing that he’s not cute? He looks at the paper with mistrust. It’s nice and all, very nice, and he can’t help but assume there must be a downside to it.

“Well, that makes sense to me,” Ushijima agrees placidly. “Tendou can be rather immature at times, so therefore he lands between cute and handsome.” Tendou chokes on his food. Ushijima doesn’t even blink. “And Shirabu is especially serious, so it is understandable that he falls into hot territory despite being younger.”

“S-senpai,” Shirabu protests, looking much redder than he’d been at the beginning of this conversation. For once, Eita feels a little bad for the kid. Not too bad, though. This is kind of hilarious. 

“So… What does it mean that I’m close to the center?” Ohira asks, sounding mildly worried. “Doesn’t it mean I’m not any of those things?”

“No, you must be well-rounded,” Ushijima suggests to him. (Hinata nods sagely.) “I think the only insult is if you do not show up at all,” the captain continues, picking up a pen. “We’ll add the rest of the team to this.”

“Eh?” Soekawa stares.“Why?”

Ushijima peers back at the vice captain with guileless eyes. “So no one feels left out. We should all be on this anyway.”

If Eita weren’t already gaping he would be now. It’s moments like this that he remembers why they picked Ushijima as their captain. He acts like a brick wall most of the time, but the ace was a good friend to all of them. Maybe the hotness chart started out as a source of gossip, but it looked like Ushijima was commandeering this operation into a team bonding session. 

“Hell yeah,” Tendou throws his head back and laughs. Kawanishi chuckles too. “Let’s do Yuno-kun next. He belongs on the cute axis, ne?”

Hinata seems a bit stunned by their response, sharing a silent look of bewilderment with Ohira and Shirabu. “Well, just leave me out of it,” she rolls her eyes. A small smile plays on her lips though. 

“What’re you all doing?” Goshiki skips up to their table with a bright, naive smile. “What’re you filling out?”

Hinata giggles before she can stop herself. “No comment.”

Goshiki looks down at her, surprised to see her look a bit flustered. “Hah?”

Tendou gives Goshiki a contemplative look before turning to Yamagata. “He’s way at the bottom. Below Yuno. Cute.”

“I agree. All in favor?” Ushijima asks, raising his hand.

“Aye,” Yamagata and Tendou intone. Shirabu hides his face. Kawanishi raises his hand and takes up Shirabu’s wrist so he's agreeing too. 

Eita raises a hand too. Tendou isn’t wrong, per say. Hinata takes one look around the table and promptly turns her full attention to her half-eaten lunch like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Uh,” Goshiki looks around at them, puzzled. He raises his hand too, since everyone else is doing it, and Tendou howls with laughter. “What’s going on? What are we voting on??” 

pic: 

Chapter Text

Practice begins as usual, and Tsutomu gets down to business like he always does. He focuses as best he can on passing drills, which he’s pretty good at; receiving drills, not his favorite but he gets through it; and finally some spiking drills that he totally crushes at, his line shot is looking great—

“Don’t get cocky, Tsuto-chan!”

“Oi, oi, you think you’re hot shit now, Goshiki?”

“I could see that line shot coming from a mile away, don’t telegraph your spikes so much.”

Each comment is a barb through his heart. It’s something new he’s had to deal with at Shiratorizawa—here, he’s not the best. Here, he’s nowhere near becoming the ace yet. Here, he has at least a dozen cold-hearted or unreadable upperclassmen that will never, ever, praise him without some form of criticism as well.

“Yes sir! I’ll do better next time!” He bows deeply to the coach, who just barks at him to get back in line. 

Natsu would cheer me on, he thinks in consolation. That’s all the praise I need. Then Tsutomu admonishes himself. She’s not a cheerleader! 

Oh, but she’d make an amazing cheerleader. Hinata was so energetic and optimistic, she’d dazzle people with her enthusiasm… 

SMACK!

The next thing he knows, he’s reeling backwards right into a teammate, his cheek smarting and eyes watering. There’s a series of sympathetic “oohh”s from the surrounding players. 

“TSUTOMU!” Washijo barks. “EYES OPEN!”

He groans, carefully pushing off of his teammate to stand on his own. “M’fine, my bad,” he mumbles, his neck feeling hot. 

“Damn, Goshiki,” Kawanishi holds him upright, raising an eyebrow. He’s the one that caught Tsutomu when he stumbled. “You need a minute?”

“Sorry,” calls Ushijima from the other side of the court. “Kawanishi, take him to the nurse.”

“No!” Tsutomu’s eyes snap open, and he whips his head towards the captain. “I’m alright! It wasn’t that hard!”

Ushijima gives him a critical look. Kawanishi snorts. “It was Ushijima’s spike, of course it hurts.”

“I mean!” He flounders. “Of course it was a hard spike, but my, uh, face is tough? So I’m fine!”

“...Right.” The second year just nods vacantly and drags him over to the bench. 

“No nurse,” Tsutomu asserts, but it comes out more whiny than he wants it to. 

“No nurse,” Kawanishi rolls his eyes, pulling his gym bag over from the neat row of bags along the wall. “Ice pack?”

An ice pack sounds really good right about now. “Yes. Thanks.” Kawanishi begins to pull out his belongings in search of said ice pack. 

“...Hey. Goshiki?” He blinks up at the second year, mildly surprised. Kawanishi rarely starts conversations. “Did Hinata tell you about Oikawa?” he asks, not looking up from his bag. He shakes up the ice pack to activate it and hands it over to Tsutomu.

He presses the pack against his cheek, wincing at the cold for a moment. “Ah, yeah? She saw him play her brother’s team, as you all know.” He lowers his eyes judgmentally. 

“I was on the court while they were all being nosy,” Kawanishi defends himself. “I’m asking because she seems kinda off about it, at lunch. But she wouldn’t tell us what he said to her.”

He must’ve still been in the classroom while that was happening, because all they did at lunch with Goshiki was talk about some beauty-rating chart and then make fun of Yamagata for his poor marks on another math quiz. Hinata hadn’t seemed any different than usual in class today, though. Maybe a little quieter, but that was probably his fault, as he’d been regaling her with the highlights of their three-set match against Kakugawa all morning. 

“She hasn’t talked about it,” he admits thoughtfully. 

Kawanishi shrugs, sliding his bag away and returning to the court. Tsutomu stays for a little longer, taking the time to sip at a water bottle while his cheek goes numb. Oikawa Tooru, huh?

He gets lucky with practice ending a little early, because as he’s exiting the locker room, he can see a stream of girls trickling out of a clubhouse, including one with fiery orange hair. 

“Hinata!” Tsutomu calls out, waving her down. 

She brightens up considerably upon seeing Goshiki, quickly saying her farewells to her teammates. “Hey! I never catch you after practice, this is new!” Her hair is damp and curly from a recent shower, and she’s only wearing a t-shirt despite the cool weather, a jacket laying over one arm. The days are getting longer, so the sun is only just beginning to set, casting the sky in shades of pink and orange. There’s a streak of golden light streaming between the trees and onto the hillside Hinata is climbing down, making her hair glow like a living flame. 

Tsutomu promptly forgets what words are. 

“How was practice? Oh! And when’s your next game, I’ll see if I can make it this time,” Hinata promises. She pulls out a haphazardly folded sheet of paper. “Look, we got our schedule for the season!”

He’s glad she tends to say several things at once, because it gives Tsutomu time to think before he speaks. He peers over the paper in her hand curiously. “Mm, uh… right. Ah, we play a lot of the same schools, I see. W-what’s Shirayuri? I’ve never heard of them.”

“Ooh, I think that might be the all-girl school,” Hinata muses. “Takahashi-san mentioned it, they’re super elite!”

“Ah,” Tsutomu says weakly. “You have a lot more games than we do?"

“Mm,” Hinata nods, folding the paper up again. “That’s how the league works. We don’t really have practice matches, we just play a ton of games and then depending on our win-loss ratio, we’re picked for Prefecture Qualifiers, then there’s Regionals, then Nationals! But there’s also tournaments for additional slots to go to Nationals,” she explains smoothly. “You’re gonna watch me play at some point, right? You’d better.”

Tsutomu laughs. “Of course I will, I’ll just have no idea what’s going on.”

“You’ll know what’s going on when I score all the goals, that’s all that matters!” She declares brightly. Then she peers up at him. “Are you heading back to the dorms now? I don’t want to hold you up.”

He blinks. “I should be the one saying that to you,” he realizes sheepishly. “You live pretty far. Did you bike here today?”

Hinata shakes her head. “Nah, I took the bus. Shouyou and I were up pretty late to talk about his game,” she laughs. “The bus won’t be here for a few minutes, if you wanna wait with me?”

The game… right! Aoba Johsai! “Yeah, I’ll wait with you,” Tsutomu agrees, following her to the bus stop and sitting beside her on the steps. “How’s Karasuno looking?”

Hinata offers him a sly look. “I can’t betray Shouyou’s team, so I won’t say much. But they looked really cool! Kageyama is really talented, he’s the genius setter.”

“I’ll have to watch out for him if we end up playing them,” Tsutomu grins. Hinata seems fine, but Kawanishi’s words nag at the back of his brain. And Hinata doesn’t tell him everything, she’s not as open as she seems, so he wouldn’t want her to keep things bottled away. That whole period of her disappearing off at lunch and avoiding everyone still bothers Tsutomu. “How about Aoba Johsai’s team? What’s their captain like? I know he’s also a really good setter.”

At the mention of Oikawa, a flicker of doubt crosses Hinata’s face. Her smile dims ever so slightly. “Well,” she says tightly, “He’s good at serving.”

Worry creeps into his chest. She’s definitely not being open with him now. “What did he do?” He asks plainly. “You’re upset.”

“I’m not that upset,” Hinata laughs, eyebrows raised, but she digs her fingers into the grass, tearing at it impulsively. “I don’t know how to explain it… And I definitely don’t want to talk about it with your whole team, Goshiki. They’re making you ask about it, aren’t they?”

“I’m sorry they’re so nosy,” Tsutomu sighs, scratching his head. “I put a lock on my phone, if that helps. But… they’re all just concerned, you know. If it wasn’t a big deal, you would’ve told me. If you weren’t upset, you wouldn’t look so uncomfortable right now.”

Hinata pouts, pulling up her legs and curling into a loose ball. “Don’t make a fuss about it, okay? I’ll tell you.” When Goshiki promises, she leans back, peering up at the darkening sky rather than him. “Oikawa was kinda flirty with me before the match, first of all. There were a bunch of fangirls watching him play, so I guess it’s just a thing he does.” 

Flirty? Oikawa flirted with Natsu? Tsutomu has never seen Oikawa in person, is he good-looking? Hinata just said he had a fan club, he was that good-looking? 

“Was that… not good?” Tsutomu finds himself asking. Hinata looks at him questioningly. “Uh, I mean. You don’t sound very happy about it. Was he pushy with you?” If that’s the case, Tsutomu will definitely not let it go... 

“Oh!” Hinata gives him a half-smile. “No, he wasn’t pushy or creepy about it, actually. But it was, eh, not really my thing? Or I guess he’s not really someone I’d hang out with, and we don’t know each other, so it felt like a routine.” She shrugs. “But then his team lost, and I went to talk to my brother and his teammates—and Oikawa started flirting again, but it was… different. I don’t even remember what he said but it was so embarrassing,” she takes a breath, patting her her quickly-coloring cheeks. “That part was kinda pushy. And he did it so loudly—because it was all to get a reaction out of my brother and his team,” she spits out the last words with resentment, her jaw tight with frustration. “It was so stupid, there wasn’t any reason to involve me if all he wanted to do was mock Karasuno or whatever. Like, as soon as he got Kageyama and Shouyou’s attention, he just forgot all about me and started picking apart Kageyama’s plays, told Shouyou he would hold his team back—the whole thing made me regret even going to the match!” Hinata exclaims, running a frustrated hand through her messy hair. 

She finally looks at him, and Tsutomu can do nothing but gape at her, unsure of how to react. She told him not to make a big deal of it, but the look on her face… Hinata was genuinely hurt, so how was he supposed to let that go? “Hinata…” 

“But it’s just one guy,” Hinata huffs, crossing her arms resolutely. “And he did all that nonsense because he’s petty, and a sore loser. So I’m pissed that someone would use me like that—but I’m mostly just angry because he’s like, actually a great volleyball player, so why in the world would he put others down like that?”

He blinks, confused by the sudden dejection in her voice, not to mention the compliment (?) for Oikawa. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“I mean Kageyama-kun and Shouyou! And even Tsukishima. You don’t know them—you might not even like them, because they’re going to be your opponents—but there’s no reason to disrespect other players. That was totally nasty of him!” 

Tsutomu nods, a sort of angry, confused helplessness coiling in his gut. No wonder she didn’t want to talk about it. There was nothing Tsutomu could do to fix something like this. “Hinata, that’s awful,” he says frankly, carefully placing a hand on her shoulder. “No one should talk to you that way—or talk to other players that way, for the record. I know we can get pretty competitive, but you didn’t need to get pulled into it. Oikawa’s supposed to be a captain, he should know better.”

“Mm,” Hinata nods sharply. “That’s what I said too.”

“Hah?” he stares at Hinata. “Wait, wait, wait—you told him off?”

She looks at him like he has two heads. “Goshiki. Of course I did. He was playing dumb mind games with a bunch of new players—and Kageyama used to play with him, actually, so he was being nasty to his own kouhai—it was all so stupid, so I told him so!” Hinata rolls her eyes. 

A heavy weight in his chest begins to lighten. He can’t help but grin. “Hinata, you’re a lot braver than I thought. Why were you so adamant about not telling us about all this?”

The soccer player blinks at him, owlish. “Well, it’s over. And it’s got nothing to do with the actual game. I just get all worked up over it whenever his name is mentioned!” Her cheeks puff out for a moment in her frustration before she exhales loudly. 

He feels his lips quirk up into a smile. “So, if my team asks, I tell them Oikawa is a prick?”

Hinata lets out a squawk at his sudden profanity, then a chuckle. “Yep! That’s it. That’s the story.”

He nods somberly. “Got it. Oikawa is a prick.”

This time, he gets a full blown laugh out of Hinata. “He’s a prick!” She squeaks, her face coloring. It’s a little jarring to hear her swear, and it’s not even that bad of a word, but apparently it’s enough to make her bashful for a moment. 

He still has a hand on her shoulder, and suddenly feels the urge to slide over, letting his arm wrap over her back into a half-hug. So he does it. To his surprise, she leans right back into him without missing a beat. Tsutomu’s mind goes into overdrive trying to think of something to say next, something casual and not-conspicuous so they don’t just sit there in weird silence, but nothing comes to mind. 

The slow rumble of the bus rouses them as it appears from around the corner.

“Ah,” Hinata says, but her inflection pitches low, and Tsutomu can pretend she’s disappointed she has to leave. “There’s my bus,” she murmurs, pulling away. 

He gets up first, helping her to her feet before scooping up her bag and jacket to hand it over. Hinata smiles in thanks, her head craned way up because they’re standing so close, and she’s so short. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Goshiki!”

“Yeah,” he agrees, feeling dazed. “Tomorrow. Get home safe, Hinata.”

She rolls her eyes, but nods, pulling out her commuter pass for the ride. “I will, I will! Bye!” 

He waves back to her, watching as the bus’s doors shut and it takes off. Tsutomu walks back to his dormitory in a haze, only managing to find his room by dumb luck. He’s still not the best at directions, often taking a wrong turn in the hallway to make it to his elective classes. But he makes it to his dorm, a small room he shares with Sagae.

“What took you so long?” His roommate wonders absently, as Tsutomu clambers up the ladder to lay face down on the top bunk. “Dramatic, much?”

Tsutomu groans into his pillow, crushing the sides against his ears. He says nothing at all to Sagae, but his roommate seems to get the message anyway. 

“If you want to talk about your problems,” he calls up to Tsutomu, “Go to Ohira, not me. I’ve got a history exam this Thursday.”

Well, that’s kind of what he expected to hear from Sagae. “...Got it,” Tsutomu mumbles.

On the bus, Natsu finally begins to feel the effects of the chilly evening air and pulls on her warm up jacket. Despite the fact that their practice ended early, Natsu is tired. Today marked the last day of pre-season conditioning, and to commemorate the occasion Captain Utsugi had them running hard all afternoon. She really would’ve had no problem falling asleep on Goshiki if she hadn’t heard the bus approaching. 

She slumps in her seat a little, chin dipping down to keep her face warm in her jacket, and catches a whiff of salonpas and something kind of woodsy. Natsu opens her eyes and looks down, inspecting her clothes suspiciously. The jacket sleeves are always a bit long on her frame, but her hands are totally enveloped by the jacket right now. It’s way too big. There’s a streak of what looks like green and white paint on the hem.

Peeling off the jacket, Natsu looks at it more carefully. It sure looks like her practice jacket, white with pale purple accents. However, the athletic clubs had all the same uniforms. Did I take Goshiki’s jacket? She wonders. He was the last person she saw, after all. But something feels off. 

There’s no kanji printed on the back, as that’s saved for the official uniform zip-up, but on the upper left breast, instead of Shiratorizawa Soccer, it says…

Shiratorizawa Basketball

She stares at the stitched writing for a solid few minutes. The thought of basketball hadn’t crossed her mind in weeks, Natsu didn’t know a thing about the sport and really, genuinely, had no interest in learning about it. And obviously, she knew no one on the basketball team. If she had to guess, there was a quiet boy that sat in the back of her homeroom, Ando, who might be on the team. He was tall and lean and stubbed his toe on Natsu’s desk every time he had to walk past her. Ando was even taller than Goshiki at 193 centimeters, so he would fit the jacket.

Did I even talk to Ando-kun today? When’s the last time I had my actual jacket? Natsu hadn’t worn it at all during morning or afternoon practice. 

As if to confuse Natsu further, her phone buzzes with a text from Goshiki later that evening, just as Natsu walks through the front door of her house. 

Uh I have your jacket?? Did we switch jackets :0

“But how?” Natsu says to herself, pulling off the jacket. She feels a little weird wearing a stranger’s clothes but it’d been cold on the walk from the bus stop to her home, and the rest of her clothes were sweaty and stuffed in her bag. So she makes sure to run a load of laundry that night, a gentle cycle so she won’t accidentally ruin a jacket that doesn’t belong to her, and leaves it up to dry while she takes out her homework and answers Goshiki.

I thought so at first, but I don’t have your jacket?? Do you know anyone on the basketball team? Natsu hesitates after she’s typed out the message, some inkling in the back of her mind telling her she should change it. Besides, she knows almost for certain that Goshiki doesn’t know anyone that plays basketball. 

But she’s also sure that she switched jackets with Goshiki. So Goshiki had the basketball jacket to begin with. 

Natsu deletes the message, simply writing, I don’t have your jacket, sorry!! Bring mine to class though?? 🙏🙏 

His response is just a few question marks and a thumbs up, and that’s the end of that. Natsu puts it out of her mind as Shouyou walks in, complaining loudly about his English grades.

The next morning the mystery is closer to being solved: the jacket belongs to a Hoshino. It’s written out neatly in permanent marker on the interior tag. 

Natsu still has not met any basketball players herself, and doesn’t recognize the name, but… hm… she has a theory. 

She leaves for school early, the jacket carefully folded and in a separate plastic bag from her school supplies and her own clothes. There’s a lost and found near the front office that she heads toward, seeing that as the obvious way to get it back to its owner. Natsu goes before her morning practice is set to begin, not wanting any of her teammates to see her with a guy’s jacket. She only wore it yesterday because no one was around to see it, but Natsu’s not oblivious to the implications of wearing what was obviously a super tall guy’s clothing. Her teammates, Aimi and Yamane especially, would never let her hear the end of it. 

Just as Natsu turns the corner to reach the office, she spots another student headed to the same location from the opposite direction. 

He’s very tall, with a medium build and fluffy hair the color of caramel. When he gets closer, Natsu can see a beauty mark near his nose and the hint of stubble on his sharp chin; his round eyes are a shade darker than his hair, and flecked with green. He’s in a school uniform, and doesn’t even have a bag with him, but Natsu has a gut feeling. 

“Good morning!” Natsu waves to him before he gets to the door to the office. He looks down at her, obviously not expecting her to speak. “Are you Hoshino-san?”

Now he looks even more surprised. “Yes. Good morning… I’m sorry, have we met?” He asks in a low, gentle voice. 

“No,” Natsu admits, lifting up the plastic bag. “But I have your warm up jacket.”

Hoshino is mystified, but takes out the jacket to inspect it. He has big hands, with athletic tape around two fingers and ink stains on his knuckles. “...This is mine,” he confirms shyly.

He’s adorable. Natsu grins brightly, clapping her hands. “Great! I’m glad.” She spins on her heel and makes to leave.

“H-Hang on,” Hoshino calls out, though he hardly raises his voice. Natsu pauses. “Who… who are you? And… how…?”

The basketball player only holds her gaze for a few moments before looking timidly at the ground. “I’m Hinata,” she answers evenly. “I don’t know how the jackets got mixed up, but you have it back now, and I have mine, so. That’s that. Right?”

“Right…” Hoshino doesn’t look particularly convinced, but also seems too wary to ask any further. “Thank you, Hinata.”

“No problem!” Natsu throws him a thumbs up as she leaves, and quickly makes her way to the soccer field for practice.

Goshiki apparently found his warm up jacket left in the clubhouse. Natsu makes an idle remark about him being careless, thanks him for returning her jacket, and that’s the end of the conversation. She sits with her teammates Hirao, Yokoyama, and Ariyoshi at lunch—bickering with Ariyoshi the whole time, because Ariyoshi insists on running her mouth—and puts the whole jacket swap far in the back of her mind. Hoshino seemed like a perfectly sweet guy. She hopes he isn’t fretting over the whole mishap. 

Later in the day, Natsu has an elective art class in the eastern wing of the school. In the back of the classroom there’s a big poster in the process of being painted, and near the very top of it, there’s a green and white pattern that could be painted by someone with a ladder, or someone very tall. Natsu doesn’t check the record of students listed to work on the art club painting, but if she did, she’d find the name Hoshino Tomoki neatly written there. 

At the end of class, someone calls out to Natsu as she’s leaving, and she finds herself in the shadow of one very tall middle blocker in the hallway.

“Kawanishi-san,” she greets him, adjusting the strap on her school bag. “Hi!”

The taller ginger peers down at her with a tight, neutral look. “Hinata,” he says again, brow furrowed. “You got a minute?”

“Sure,” Natsu lets him lead her towards one of the staircases, one at the end of the hall and usually pretty empty. 

When they’re alone, Kawanishi levels another critical look on her. “You weren’t at lunch today.”

Natsu raises her eyebrows in surprise at the non sequitur. “Oh, I was with some of my teammates. The first years, I don’t think you’d know them.” 

He nods curtly. Kawanishi is naturally quite standoffish, he just has that sort of face, but right now he looks distinctly brittle. “Listen. Hinata,” he begins. “This morning, you saw Tomo-… Hoshino before class. That was you, right?”

“Yeah.” 

Kawanishi hums, deliberating over his words, unusually diffident. “And you gave him his jacket.” She nods again. “But you didn’t say where you got it from.”

“Actually,” Natsu replies, scratching her cheek, “I said I didn’t know how the jackets got swapped. I’m pretty sure I have it figured out now, though?”

The second year shows no outward sign of reaction to this, but the silence that follows is deafening. Natsu holds his gaze as best she can, sensing the discomfort rolling off him in waves. “Is that so,” Kawanishi says at last. 

Natsu waits for him to go on, but he says nothing. She huffs. “Okay,” Natsu relents, figuring he wants to hear her version first. “So, yesterday Goshiki waited with me at the bus stop, and I must’ve taken the jacket he was carrying instead of my own, because he texted me later that he had mine. But when I looked at the jacket I had, it was Hoshino’s. So Goshiki must’ve mixed up his jacket with that one before he saw me. Goshiki doesn’t know any basketball players, and I didn’t have his jacket, so I never told him about it. Plus, his jacket turned out to be in the clubhouse, so that’s either where he left it, or it’s where you left it, after you realized you didn’t have Hoshino’s jacket anymore.”

She peers up at Kawanishi at last, but again, he gives very little reaction except for the way his mouth presses into a thin line. “Well,” he says woodenly. “That’s pretty much how it went.”

“Mm,” Natsu agrees, eyebrows raised. She doesn’t smile or offer anything more than a nod, because Kawanishi looks like he’s bracing for it the same way Ikejiri, a quiet third year on her team, braces for Yamane’s dramatic, angry outbursts. 

He sighs. “This is exhausting,” Kawanishi mutters crossly. “Don’t you want to know why I had the jacket?”

“Because you’re dating?” Natsu guesses bluntly. Kawanishi makes a face. “Uwah! You don’t have to look so pissed about it!” She admonishes him. 

Fortunately, his expression smooths out pretty quickly into his usual frown. “I’m not pissed.... No one’s supposed to know, Hinata,” he mutters, though he sounds more aggravated than troubled now. “It’s no one’s business but ours. If someone like Kunitake knew, Tomoki wouldn’t be able to handle the attention.” 

In a school like Shiratorizawa, scandals spread like wildfire. And most people these days were pretty tolerant, but that wasn’t the same thing as being wholly accepting of same-sex relationships. Anything more intimate than holding hands in public would cause a stir if it was seen by the wrong people. 

Kunitake Aimi never struck Natsu as an overtly malicious person, but even if she didn’t mean anything offensive by spreading rumors about Kawanishi, the impact would still be damaging. Hell, Aimi was the reason Natsu figured it out in the first place. She mentioned that Kawanishi had been hanging out with a basketball player lately, and already suspected they were a couple.

Natsu gives the middle blocker a sympathetic look. “Aimi-san has really caused you a lot of trouble, hasn’t she? I’m sorry about her.”

Kawanishi scoffs. “It’s hardly your fault,” he says resentfully. “I could’ve avoided all this by not taking Tomo’s jacket in the first place.”

“What? No, Kawanishi-san, it’s cute,” Natsu protests immediately. Kawanishi gives her a side-eye, and Natsu glares back stubbornly. “You think if I had a cute boyfriend, I wouldn’t be stealing his jacket all the time?” 

Kawanishi clicks his tongue. “You know it’s not the same.”

“Why? You don’t think Hoshino’s cute?” Natsu narrows her eyes with doubt.

“‘Course I do,” he grumbles, jamming his hands in his pockets, ears bright pink. “...He’s a big crybaby though, he’s been worrying all day about you knowing about us.”

Aw, now Natsu feels bad for not explaining sooner. She hadn’t wanted to broach the subject with Hoshino without knowing how he’d react. Natsu folds her arms loosely. “Well I won’t say anything. I could never do that to you.” She promises. “But… it sounds like not even your friends know about it.”

Kawanishi hums, leaning against the far wall and staring up at nothing. “I did say it’s no one’s business.” He glances back at Natsu evenly. “Not that they’d be weird about it or anything. But the fewer people know, the less likely it is to spread.”

He turns away from her, looking out the window and into the courtyard silently. Natsu lets him sulk for a moment, but soon her chest feels too tight with emotion to keep it bottled away. 

“You should talk to your team more about yourself,” Natsu exclaims. “If they understood how you felt about it, they’d support you. I support you. Kawanishi-san,” she quickly lowers her voice to an excited hush, “I bet you two make the best couple, I knew it as soon as I saw Tomo he was totally your type—”

“Hinata,” he hisses, immediately flustered. “You don’t know what you’re saying—”

“But I do, he’s adorable, Kawanishi-san! You call him Tomo!” Natsu squeals, and quickly covers her mouth. “And he’s an artist, ne? I saw the poster he’s working on, have you seen it? Tell him it's cool. Does he want to continue playing basketball? Because I bet he could make a career from his art—”

“He’s always been that talented, he wants to go to a design school in Kyoto,” Kawanishi blurts out, and the flush on his face spreads up from his neck and over his cheeks. He notices the look on Natsu’s face and immediately scowls. “Shut up, Hinata.”

“Do you talk to anyone about him? Your family?” Natsu asks gently. “Because if not, I need to step up my little sister game. Does he make you happy?”

A ghost of a smile appears on Kawanishi’s face. “You’re being ridiculous, Hinata,” he says fondly, running a hand through his messy orange hair. “I don’t need to talk to anyone about it, Tomo and I tell each other everything. We’re… we’re really happy.” Then he set a hand on top of her head, ruffling her brighter orange hair. “Thanks for asking, imouto,” he says with a huff. 

Natsu giggles; Shouyou rarely calls her little sister, he just sticks to Nacchan or nee-san even though she’s technically younger. With Kawanishi, though, she certainly feels like a little sister.

“Anytime, nii-san.” 

Chapter Text

Team Group Chat has been created

CptThighs has added Aone, sakagucci, not_yui, 16Mana, + 16 others to Team Group Chat

CptThighs new year, new chat group. 

CptThighs: don’t kill each other unless aone says it’s ok

ERIBERRY: YASS BITCHES LETS GOOOO @everyone

ERIBERRY: WE NEED A COOLER NAME THO

ERIBERRY: LEAN MEAN DREAM TEAM ?

ERIBERRY: MIYAGI'S ANGELS ?

ERIBERRY: RUMI & THE FLOCK ?

ERIBERRY: @everyone ANSWER ME COWARDS

✨starfire 🔥: hiya yamane!!! 

ERIBERRY: HINATAAAA 

ERIBERRY: my starlight bby girl 

ERIBERRY: you’re doin amazing

not_yui: erina we talked about this

16Mana: ever heard of the boy who cried wolf

zZZ: i’m muting this.

zZZ: my business hours are from 2 - 5pm

zZZ: bye

not_yui: that has to be a record

16Mana: 5 minutes and ike is done with ur shit

ERIBERRY: I’M JUST PUMPED

ERIBERRY: NEW YEAR NEW CHAT

✨starfire 🔥: yes!! me too!!

ariYOSH: die

✨starfire 🔥: !!!!

✨starfire 🔥: sorry ariyoshi??

ariYOSH: not you

✨starfire 🔥: oh ok then!!

ERIBERRY: say that to my face 

ariYOSH: YOU are the one @ ing everyone for no reason 

ariYOSH: it's 10pm and i've heard enough from you in practice

ariYOSH: you wanna chat so bad i’ll give u something to talk about

ERIBERRY: GYM 2, MIDNIGHT

ariYOSH: are you challenging me to a duel

ERIBERRY: PK SHOOTOUT

ariYOSH: we need a fucking goalie for PKs you donkey

ERIBERRY: 1) stringbean can be keeper

ERIBERRY: 2) donkey?? i'm ashamed to be ur senpai

ariYOSH: ...

ariYOSH: wheres the stringbean

✨starfire 🔥: you mean hirao???

nana_banana: @strongbean

16Mana: oh god don’t enable them

not_yui: why are there so many food-related names?

yams: we’re hungry first years

CenterBitch: hungry for deez nutz

yams: ... 

yams: bye

✨starfire 🔥: no! we lost yokoyama too!!

strongbean: hello! wassup?? 

✨starfire 🔥: don't leave us hirao!!

strongbean: ????

ERIBERRY: be our keeper

strongbean: am i not ur keeper??

strongbean: oh i scrolled up

strongbean: cool 

strongbean: im down for it

ERIBERRY: @ariYOSH u ready to lose asshole

ariYOSHI: whatever i can take you

ERIBERRY: YOU’RE A DEFENDER

ERIBERRY: YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT SCORING

ariYOSH: how hard can it be

Aone: stop

✨starfire 🔥: sorry senpai!

ariYOSH: sorry

ERIBERRY: sorry

strongbean: sorry

nana_banana: sorry

✨starfire 🔥: nanami you did nothing wrong!!

nana_banana: nah i kinda wanted them to fight

✨starfire 🔥: oh... fighting is bad >:0

Aone: ^

CptThighs: what did i tell you about the chat. 

CptThighs: it’s past curfew, if you're out of the dorms i’ll kill you myself

Aone: no

CptThighs: shit

CptThighs: sorry ok i’ll have you doing suicides in practice if you break curfew

ERIBERRY: damn even mom’s getting scolded

nana_banana: thought utsu was dad? aone is much nicer

16Mana: aonechan is the peacekeeping dad that also protects us at all costs

16Mana: utsugichan is the hardass mom that won’t buy us snacks

16Mana: so when aonechan says no, it means no

not_yui: can't disappoint team dad, team dad is too good for us. 

✨starfire 🔥: makes sense to me

ERIBERRY: aone’s word is law. good night bitches.

Chapter Text

The team’s just finished their laps around the school, and Semi Eita can feel the burn in his legs as Wakatoshi leads the cool-down and stretches on the track. They started their outdoor conditioning a little late in the afternoon to avoid the midday heat of May, and now the sun’s set the sky ablaze with oranges and pinks as it inches toward the horizon. Eita tilts his head back as they stretch their legs, looking towards the grass fields where he last saw the soccer teams practicing. Then his gaze sweeps past it, to the dirt path that winds around the campus and up through the surrounding hilly forests, the trail his team sometimes uses for their long-distance run. 

He’s eyeing a lamppost that sits between the path and the fence around the track with idle amusement when Soekawa calls his name, drawing Eita out of his thoughts. 

“You’re in a good mood,” Jin notes, pulling up the hem of his shirt to mop at his face. “I thought you hated conditioning days.”

Eita shrugs, working to lessen the grin on his face. He hadn’t realized he’d been smiling. “Today wasn’t so bad.”

Because it’s Jin asking, and not someone unbearably nosy like Tendou, Shirabu, or Goshiki, there’s no further scrutiny for Eita to endure. Jin simply nods, and they join the rest of their team as they pick up their bags and trek back to the locker room. Eita is in a good mood, though. He’s in such high spirits, he feels like he deserves a treat after such a hard day of practice. 

He lags behind his teammates, telling Ohira and the others to go on ahead. There’s a vending machine out here somewhere, and he’s been craving something sugary for a while. He’s well aware of the judgemental look Shirabu, the little shit, will give him, but one soda won’t kill his ability to set the ball.  

The vending machine is just around the corner of Gym 2, luckily, so he pulls out a few coins and scans through the items. He selects a cold soda, and just as he kneels to retrieve the drink, a small hand slams against the vending machine, right next to his face. Eita startles, looking up.

Hinata Natsu stares down at him, her expression severe. She’s still in her practice clothes, her hair resembling a sweaty orange nest. “Semi.”

“Hinata,” he greets her, countering her hostile vibes with a placid smile. Eita pulls his drink out from the machine and offers it to her. “Here, take this.” 

“Huh?” The ginger girl is taken off-guard, automatically holding onto the can as Eita gets to his feet. “Why?”

His smile becomes a smirk, looking down at her from his full height. “You were looking a little thirsty out there.”

Her jaw drops. She flounders, eyes wide as saucers as her face rapidly turns the color of a tomato. “Y-You saw?”

Unable to hold back any longer, Eita bursts into unrestrained laughter at her horrified look, clutching at his stomach. Hinata gives a yell of protest, but once he’s started he can’t stop, it’s too much for him to handle. And it’s not your regular run-of-the-mill humor, no sir. He’s not chuckling or snickering under his breath, no, this is bellowing, hearty, obnoxious laughter. 

“I saw the whole thing!” Eita exclaims, his voice a little wheezy from talking and laughing at the same time. If anyone else were around he’d be embarrassed that his voice is pitching up as he speaks, but there’s pretty much nothing he could do now to lose face in front of Hinata. “Oh my god, Hinata!” Eita’s grinning so wide his eyes are shut, bowed over almost in half.

“Shut up!” Hinata squeals, trying to shush him. She snags him by the shirt and tugs, lightly, as if shaking him will snap him out of it.  “Shut up, you don’t know what you saw! You didn’t see anything!” 

On the contrary, though, Eita knows exactly what he saw. It happened just two hours ago, just after the volleyball team had finished up diving laps.

“Owwwww,” Hayato whines, rubbing his chin as he slouches after Eita towards the sinks, immediately protesting further when they step outside into the scorching sunlight. “I do enough diving in games, I should be exempt from these laps,” he gripes, unscrewing the cap on his water bottle. “Also, where’re the rest of the first years?”

This question is aimed at Goshiki, the only remaining first year that had to go through diving laps with them. Usually the first years and other non-starting players would help out with filling up water bottles and handing out towels if they weren’t part of the practice drills. The ace-wannabe runs a hand through his sweaty bangs, squinting at their libero through his exhaustion. “They’re in the weight room with Saito Sensei… I think? I don’t know. I can’t think anymore.”

That seems to be a common sentiment amongst the players, and they all move sluggishly to the outdoor sinks to fill up their bottles and stick their heads under the faucets. The summer humidity is kicking in, and their gym was turning into a sauna. Even with an air-conditioned gym, the sweltering heat was hitting them hard. Eita drags his head out from beneath the cold faucet and shakes out his hair, absent-mindedly mourning the waste of hair gel. Water trickles down the back of his neck. The sun’s rays feel strong enough to dry off his clothes, but Eita ends up tugging off his t-shirt anyway to enjoy the slight breeze while he still can. 

Yamagata has wandered off towards Soekawa and Goshiki, starting up a conversation about his plummeting math grades (again). Eita can already see Tendou, grinning, as he inches towards the pair of them to gloat about his own test scores (again). Shirabu and Kawanishi groan and share looks, apparently noticing the same thing. Ushijima is entirely focused on rinsing out his bottle properly, but that’s to be expected.

In a bid to avoid the upcoming squabble, Eita picks up his water bottle and turns away, taking a few long gulps. 

The grassy land beyond their gym slopes downward before connecting to the well-kept grass fields used for the soccer teams. Farther to the right are the grass and dirt pastures for the equestrian team, and to the left, the forest cuts into campus, naturally sectioning off the fields and providing shade for the players. A dirt path separates the campus lawns from the chain link fence along the soccer field. 

One of the soccer fields is empty of players; still dotted with bright orange cones and and practice goals, practice can’t be over so early, but Eita wonders where the players could be.

He gets his answer a few moments later as the girls’ team emerges from the left, running down the familiar dirt path that circles the campus. Their running pace isn’t too fast, but if they’ve been keeping it up for the entirety of the circuit around the school grounds, Eita pities Hinata and the other first years.

His water bottle is halfway to his mouth when he spots Hinata’s vibrant hair, and he pauses at the odd sight.

She’s already looking up the hill when Eita sees her, her mouth falling open in a way that has nothing to do with the fact that she’s running. Hinata’s expression is something Eita has never seen before. Eyes blown wide open, roaming over the hill with bright, sharp focus. It strikes an odd chord in Eita, leaving him buzzing and confused. 

What kind of look is that? He wonders, weirdly agitated. 

Then it occurs to Eita that 1) she’s looking at the volleyball team, and 2) his teammates have followed his lead in pulling off their shirts to cool down. Hinata’s gaze lands on Semi again, traveling up before she finally meets his eyes. 

A moment later Hinata wrenches her gaze away and suddenly jerks to the left, but she’s too late—

CLANG

Hinata runs into a lamppost, stumbles, and knocks over a teammate before landing flat on her back. 

Her teammates skid to a stop around the pair of them. Eita can hear them faintly, shouting words of shock and worry as Hinata staggers to her feet. Her head turns toward Eita, but the view is blocked by the surrounding girls. Utsugi, a short (and scary) girl from Eita's class and captain of the soccer team, jogs back to them, looking pissed. He bites down hard on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from making any noise, flummoxed by this entire series of events.

“Did you hear something?” Shirabu wonders aloud, lifting his head.

Making a snap decision, Eita turns on his heel and strides back towards the sinks, raising his eyebrows. “Nope, I didn’t hear a thing. Let’s go save the first years from the weight room, I’m sure the trainer’s working them hard.”

Ushijima hears and agrees with Eita, pulling on a shirt—Reon’s, by accident, which amuses Tendou enough that he tries to take Kawanishi’s shirt to see how it’ll fit—and then Eita has to forget about Hinata for a moment to keep Yamagata from shoving his sweaty libero jersey over Eita’s head. 

“Oi, oi, put your clothes back on!” Soekawa smacks Tendou and takes Kawanishi’s shirt back. “We’re outside, you don’t know who might see us—if Washijo gives us a punishment for public indecency, I’m going to give you one too,” he threatens.

“Kinky,” Tendou replies automatically, and then he scrambles to pull his shirt back on while running away from the vice captain. Practice with the team resumes as usual, the only difference being Eita and the burgeoning knowledge of what he’d witnessed.

Presently, Hinata has Eita by the front of his shirt like a tiny elementary school bully, keeping him hunched over to her level. She holds her arms straight out, though, as if to maintain some respectful distance between them. But there’s nothing respectful about this anymore, and Eita isn’t so polite that he’ll overlook it.

“You were checking us out,” he declares, deeply satisfied by the dark shade of pink Hinata blushes. He keeps his voice lowered, but only just. It’s too funny for him to keep quiet. “Not just Goshiki, but everyone. Shirabu, Ushijima, Yamagata—”

“Why would it just be Goshiki?” Hinata blurts out, which just intrigues Eita even more. She seems to realize this, and quickly scowls. “I was scanning the horizon,” she hisses, her hands still twisted in his shirt. He almost makes a joke about her trying to tear it off him, but holds his tongue. “It wasn’t what you thought you saw.”

“I saw you stare at my abs so long you ran into a post,” Eita crows, still kind of amazed. He knew the volleyball team had fangirls, but Shiratorizawa was a very serious and proper school. Eita’s received Valentine’s Day chocolate, he’s found a love letter or two in his locker, he’s heard the new cheer squad shout his name at official matches. All innocent admirers. 

Eita’s never seen a girl ogle before, not like the way Natsu did. Though he’s never considered himself to be exceptionally vain, there was something very gratifying about it coming from his little kouhai. She was usually so polite and sweet, which Eita found endearing, but this was even better somehow. 

“Hinata, you totally perved on us. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

The first year releases him as if she’s been burned, letting out a small ‘eep’ and covering her face with both hands, mortified. Eita didn’t actually mean it in a negative way, but that’s probably not how Hinata sees it. 

“I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry,” she whisper-yells through her fingers, “I wasn’t expecting you all to be so—and I was zoning out, it was a five kilometer run, and—oh my god I’m going to hell—why were all so wet and shiny, it was like staring into the sun—why am I telling you this, I hate this—“ 

Eita cuts her off by bursting into marginally-sadistic laughter again, this time a little more controlled, but it’s enough to make Hinata lift her head and look at him despairingly.

“I forgive you,” he says between gasps for breath, feeling a stitch form in his side. “Really, it’s a better compliment than being at the top of the ‘Hot’ axis,” Eita admits, a teasing grin still on his lips. She can’t even make eye contact with him now. “I think Tsutomu might faint if he knew you saw him, though.”

That certainly gets her attention. There’s a fire in her gaze when she looks at him, but it’s nothing like the scorching intensity of her wandering eye from earlier. “You cannot tell anyone about this, Semi. Not a soul.”

Not that he was planning on it, but her dramatic words bring out the playfulness in Eita, and he taps his lip in a show of mulling it over. “Why not, Hinata-chan?” he cooes. “It was so cute, I’m sure they'd all be flattered.”

“Don’t call me Hinata-chan,” she wails, her face still fully flushed pink. “Don’t make fun of me!”

“Fine, fine,” Eita relents, raising his eyebrows for emphasis. “I’m not joking, it really is kind of cute. Nacchan.”

Hinata looks caught between wishing she could be swallowed up by the ground and wishing he would spontaneously combust. “You’re the worst,” she gasps out, covering her face again. “This is the worst day.”

“Because we gave you an anatomy lesson—?”

“SHUT your MOUTH,” Hinata shrieks, spinning on her heel to hide herself.

 “—or because you ran into a lamppost?” Eita continues, grinning ridiculously wide. He taps her shoulder obnoxiously, leaning against the vending machine. He can still see her bright red ears from this angle, clashing horrible with her hair. “Aw, I’m joking. The part where you ran into a lamppost is a bigger deal, y’know.”

Hinata groans, dropping her hands and facing him again. “It hurt so much,” she admits in a rush, rolling up the sleeve of her jacket. A livid bruise is developing on her forearm, prominent against her tanned skin, where she’d tried to brace herself and avoid hitting her head. There’s a matching one above her knee. “And I knocked over Nanami-chan, we were just starting to get along.”

Eita winces in sympathy. It looked much more painful than when he ran into Yamagata. “You better ice it more when you get home,” he shakes his head. “Bet Utsu-san tore you a new one over it.”

“She did,” Hinata huffs. “Up until then I’d been keeping pace just fine, and everyone could’ve kept running, but she flipped out on me and we were all behind schedule because of it.”

“That sucks,” he says simply. “But I have to point out, it’s also entirely your own fault.”

Hinata lets her sleeve drop with a sigh, neither confirming nor denying it. She scoops up the soda can from where she’d set it on the pavement, holding it out to him with a tense expression. “It was rude of me anyway,” she says tersely, as if running into a pole was the proper punishment for her actions. 

Yeesh. Karma’s a bitch and all, but Hinata might be taking this all too seriously. Eita takes the soda back, peering at her curiously. “Rude? That’s all? So you’re not harboring any secret crushes on me?”

Her nostrils flare in annoyance, but she doesn’t snap. She just sounds resigned. “I don’t have a crush on you.” 

He makes an exaggerated pout, as if this is more offensive than her peeping on him in the first place. “Aw, so it’s not me? How about Goshiki?”

“No,” Hinata repeats, brow furrowed. “He’s my best friend.”

He can’t tell how honest she’s being, but if so, yikes. Eita is sure that Goshiki has an enormous crush on her, but he’s not about to let that be known. (There’s a current betting pool between Semi, Ohira, Kawanishi and Jin regarding several other teammates’ struggling love lives). Eita steps back and begins walking towards the clubhouse, and after a moment Hinata follows his lead. 

“Hm. Shirabu? Yamagata? Rank us, I’m in the top three, right?”

“Top three of what? Horrible senpais?” Hinata snips back, as menacing as a puppy. “I just happened to look, it doesn’t mean anything.”

Well, that’s true enough. Girls with skirts too short, guys that leave the top two buttons undone on dress shirts—Eita does plenty of looking without wanting more than that… 

“But the look on your face, Hinata. You liked what you saw,” Eita can’t help but press the issue, feeling immensely smug. “My perfect abs are burned into your memory for life—yeOWW!” He jumps about a foot into the air when Hinata chops him viciously in the side.  

Hinata scowls. “You—you don’t even have the best abs,” she stammers, wrestling between indignity and embarrassment while Semi scrambles to pick up the soda he dropped. Damn, now he really can’t drink it yet. “Also, you scream like a chicken!”

Willfully ignoring that last part, Eita rubs his side sourly. “What the hell? You’re a lot meaner than I thought.” She sticks out her tongue instead of answering, and Eita just shakes his head. “Nacchan, Nacchan, keep your hands to yourself,” he admonishes. “Don’t be pervier than you already are.”

Hinata is no longer blushing, having chosen to stay firmly in the realm of disgruntlement to deal with this conversation. The look she gives him could wither entire forests, and it’s just as amusing to Eita as her mortification. Her shoulders sink, and she turns her face forward. “You’re… not gonna tell anyone,” Hinata says again, but this time it’s less like a demand and more like a realization. “Right?”

Eita looks down at her from the corner of his eye, passing his battered can of soda from one hand to another. He can only see the crown of her head from this angle, her bright orange hair sticking up in every direction. “Nah, I won’t.” Telling his whole team about Hinata would push this from friendly teasing into something kind of shameful for her, even if most of them wouldn’t care. And she had never brought up that trainwreck of a conversation they had in the nurse’s office in front of anyone else, as far as he knew. “It’s more fun if only I know,” Eita decides. 

Then he tacks on, “Because I will hold it over you for the rest of the year. Maybe for your entire life.” Eita never claimed to be a saint. 

Before he knows it the soda can is snatched out of his hands. Startled, he looks up to see Hinata shaking the drink vigorously, a threat in her brown eyes. “Wait, don’t—NO—”

Crrrack—Hinata lunges at him with the soda can, fizzy water overflowing from the cracked-open top—

“HINATA,” he splutters, quickly taking her arm and pushing the soda away, already feeling the wetness seep into his clothes. The audacity. He has the greatest blackmail material ever on this girl, and she does this? Was nothing sacred anymore?

She shrieks when the soda gets on her too, and Eita tips the can backward to make it worse, and—okay yeah they’re just splashing each other with cold sugary water like five years olds now. 

“I just said I wouldn’t tell anyone, dumbass!”

“You shouldn’t joke about it either!” Hinata argues back. 

“I was kidding, oh my god,” Eita yanks the soda out of her hands, annoyed and amused all at once. 

“You were NOT,” she makes a lunge for the drink, which is maybe a third-full now. “‘You looked thirsty out there’! I can’t BELIEVE you!”

He chugs the remaining soda and belches. “I saw an opportunity—”

Hinata howls, pushing him back a step. “SHUT—UP—!”

“—And I took it,” Eita talks over her, grinning again. “Alright, I can’t help but joke about it, but that’s ‘cause it was pretty fucking funny.” Of course, Hinata isn’t pleased by this at all. At this point she looks like a sad cat that got caught in the rain, which isn’t making it any easier for Eita to take her seriously. “Hinata, really, I’m not making fun of you—”

“You are literally still laughing at me,” she hollers, wiping soda off her face. 

Okay, true. Eita takes a few deep breaths and shakes out his hair, holding up his hands appeasingly. “I’m not mocking you though,” he tries again, “Or, I am, but like—you shouldn’t take it so seriously, you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I know that,” Hinata pouts stubbornly, but she doesn’t look entirely convinced. 

“I mean it, I’m just messing with you ‘cause I can,” Eita insists. “I’m a horrible senpai,” he adds for her benefit.

“You are,” she says stiffly, drying her hands on her shorts. 

“You’re also a horrible kouhai,” Eita points out offhandedly. “Pouring soda on people.”

“Only on you,” Hinata says snootily. But then her expression crumples. “No, forget I said that, I’m sorry for the soda.”

Eita blinks. “That was quick." He's used to more hardheaded underclassmen, like Shirabu, giving him shit. 

She hangs her head. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I think you’re moving towards acceptance,” Eita muses, hands on his hips. “You’ve passed the anger stage of grief, for sure.” 

“Grief?”

“Grief for your loss of dignity.” God, she makes it too easy. "I'll send you flowers."

Hinata stares at him for a long moment, then throws up her hands. “I give up!”

Acceptance, Eita thinks wisely. “You were never going to win.”

She slaps her cheeks all of a sudden, leaving two bright red marks. “Goodbye, Semi,” Hinata declares through gritted teeth, turning away. “I'll just never speak to you again. Problem solved.”

He snorts, absolutely not believing her, but holds himself back from laughing again. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hinata!” he calls after her. 

Her hands ball into fists, but she marches away without a backwards glance. Eita tosses the empty can away, ignoring the cloying residue on his hands. He doesn’t even care about the soda. It’s been a great day. 

Chapter Text

The soccer season officially starts tomorrow, and Natsu couldn’t be more psyched for it. Afternoon practice ends fifteen minutes early so that the coach can corral them all into a huddle in the clubhouse to discuss their upcoming game. 

“As you know from the schedule… our first match is against Johzenji.” Sameshima’s expression darkens, and it’s as though a ripple of dread runs through the upperclassmen. “Any of you that remember how we fared against them last year will understand. Johzenji is a particularly difficult team for us to play against.”

“Why’s that?” Hirao pipes up, their first-year back up goalkeeper. “They’re not even a powerhouse school, what’s the problem?”

“The problem,” Yamane cuts in, gritting her teeth, “Is that they play dirty.”

“Erina,” the coach eyes her warningly, and the striker goes quiet, looking at the ground. “We've... had a lot of difficulty handling Johzenji’s play style. They’re offense-heavy, valuing speed and individual technical skills over passing plays. And, to be honest, they tend to cause a lot of fouls.”

“They change the pace,” Aone speaks up suddenly, just loud enough to be heard. “When they see we’re gaining momentum, they do everything to stop it, and they’re good at it.”

Captain Utsugi places her hands on her hips, glaring down the underclassmen. “It’s important that we keep our cool. All of us. No matter how bad it gets, we can’t lash out. Yamane, Kunitake, Ariyoshi. I’m talking to you three.”

Ariyoshi gives the captain a lazy salute, rolling her eyes. Kunitake Aimi and Yamane Erina, two starters that never seem to get along, exchange sour looks. 

“That being said, we do have a big advantage over Johzenji—not just our pace, but our passing plays and our stamina. We can outlast them, stay on the offensive for longer than them.” Sameshima goes over to the whiteboard, uncapping a marker. “Here’s our formation to start.”

4-3-3. That meant four defenders, three midfielders and three strikers. Natsu, a midfielder, already knows they won’t put her in to start, but it still irks her to see Nakajima’s name written in the very center of the board. 

“This isn’t our final roster,” Utsugi tells them sternly. “Don’t be surprised if you’re switched out ten minutes in. For league games, we have unlimited substitutes, and we’re making full use of that for our first couple of games until we find the combination that clicks. Last year, Johzenji… Johzenji didn’t just win, they insulted our pride. Our integrity as a team. This time, we will win, and we will do it our way,” the captain says at last. “Ours is the way of champions.”

It’s meant to sound inspiring, by the looks on her teammates’ faces, but Natsu doesn’t quite get it. There’s a tension to the air that Utsugi and the other third years haven’t acknowledged; instead, the team is dismissed, and Natsu goes back to the locker rooms to shower. Since her commute is so long, she sometimes uses the school showers after practice rather than wait to get home. Others who live in the dorms, like Hirao, Yokoyama, and Ariyoshi, simply collect their things and head to their building. 

When Natsu finally gathers up her belongings to head out, she almost runs into someone. “Ikejiri-senpai,” she yelps, hopping to the side to avoid a collision with the third year. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were here!”

Ikejiri Mayu responds with a slow blink, stepping back languidly. “S’fine. You should… go home and rest for the match.” Her half-lidded eyes skirt past Natsu to the locker room. “Oh good, no one’s here… I hate showering near Akari in the dorms, so loud.”

Natsu, who’d been about to blurt out a loud question, quickly presses her lips together and nods. “Mm,” she agrees in a low tone. “Do you think I’ll play much in tomorrow’s game?”

The third year tilts her head, humming in consideration. Natsu isn’t sure if she’s out of line to be asking Ikejiri about it, because if she’s subbed in, it’s likely she’ll be taking Ikejiri’s or Nakajima’s spot. While Ikejiri might act a little too easy-going, or even apathetic, during practice, she’s just as adamant about staying on the roster as the rest of the team. “Y’might. Depends on how you hold your ground. If you’re skittish you’ll be pulled out.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Natsu insists, determined. “I know I’m not the strongest, but I can hold onto the ball when it matters. I’m resilient!”

“That’s cool and all,” Ikejiri drawls, arching an eyebrow, “But if you’re too good at holding your ground, that’s a problem too.” 

“Eh?” Natsu squints at her. But Ikejiri simply yawns, pushing past her towards the showers. 

“See ya tomorrow, Hizaki,” She calls out over her shoulder carelessly. Natsu grimaces, but doesn’t bother correcting her. Ikejiri wouldn’t care. 

Natsu collects her belongings and sets off for her home, wondering why she still had such a sense of foreboding about their match.

Just as Ikejiri predicted, Natsu gets subbed in just twenty minutes into the game—but as a wing back rather than a midfielder. Sameshima doesn’t give her a reason for not putting her in as a midfielder, either, which is even more frustrating. Natsu watches as Sugita jogs off the field with fire in her eyes, passing her the training pinny and high-fiving her before taking her spot on the far side of the field. 

It might not be the position she wants, and she’s meant to be guarding a wicked-fast striker with shockingly pink hair, but Natsu is still thrilled. Her whole body thrums with anticipation. This is her chance. She won’t let them down. 

The ball is put into play, and everything else beyond the field just falls away. 

But just ten minutes into playing, Natsu realizes why Sugita had looked so furious while she was coming off the field. The pink-haired striker is a menace. 

Sure, Natsu can keep up with her. That alone is difficult enough, but the striker is bigger than her, and throws out vicious elbow jabs anytime Natsu fights for the ball. Simply trying to keep her balance while she’s being thrown off the ball takes all of Natsu’s concentration, but she cuts off the striker every time. 

“Tch,” the pink girl, #08, sneers at her the next time Natsu pulls the ball away from her long enough to pick out her midfielder, Nakajima, and move the play towards Johzenji’s side of the field. Natsu casts her a neutral, somewhat wary look, but #08 says nothing to her. The other Johzenji players have been doing similar stunts, not actually speaking to Shiratorizawa’s players, but expressing their disdain all the same.

It’s a big field. There’s 22 players on the grass, and only three officials to keep an eye on them all. So the next time #08 gets the ball and Natsu’s guarding her, the referee is quite far from them, and before Natsu knows it they’re both tumbling to the ground—she gets the last kick in, pushing the ball straight towards her own defender, before her legs get swept up with #08’s and they’re both eating dirt.

She hears a low curse from #08, but ignores it, lifting her head to follow the play. Natsu huffs in relief, seeing that Risako has plenty of time to hold onto the ball and let the strikers fall back and reset. #08 shoves herself to her feet when there’s no whistle blown regarding their collision, and Natsu makes to follow—then a cleated foot stomps down on her hand.

“HEY!” Natsu shrieks, immediately shoving at the girl with her shoulder. Her hand is already released, but she still rams into #08, furious. The pink girl yells back and falls over, cursing again. Someone yells at them. Her hand throbs. Natsu can’t bend all of her fingers. Cleats. On her hand. “What is your problem?!” She explodes at the girl. “What the hell?!”

“Hinata, stop it!” Utsugi snaps from the top of the goal box. 

The pink-haired girl is livid. “REF! You’re alright with this?! She pushed me over—!”

A shrill whistle cuts through the air as Natsu gets to her feet, clutching her hand. #08 stays on the ground, flailing her arms at the referee as she jogs closer. 

“Number 21!” The referee barks—at Natsu.

Natsu turns to the official sharply. “She stepped on my hand!” Natsu hisses, lifting her right hand and flinching. It’s not just raw and pink, her hand is bleeding. The referee realizes it as soon as Natsu does, and blows the whistle again, signaling her coach.

“No,” Natsu says quickly, a sinking feeling in her gut. “No, it’s okay, I don’t need—”

“Ref, you’re just gonna let that slide? She pushed me down!” #08 snaps, clambering to her feet. 

“I saw it, Ref!” Another Johzenji girl hollers. “That ginger girl dragged her back to the ground!”

“No, she didn’t,” Risako snaps, glaring between the two opposing players. “Ref, Hinata’s bleeding, #08 obviously hurt her.”

“I didn’t do anything! She pulled me down—look at my jersey!”

“Quiet, all of you,” The referee says definitively. “You, #21, go see the trainer.”

The linesman lifts up the number board. #14 is being subbed for #21. Nagano for Hinata. 

“No card?” Natsu looks at the referee, aghast. Her heart is beating so loudly in her ears, she can barely think over it. “Wait. What about her? She stepped on my hand. Look at it!”

But she already knows why Johzenji isn’t being penalized. All that the referee saw was the initial fall, which put neither player at fault. Then #08 had ended up on the ground again, the next time the officials looked at them. Natsu wasn’t helping her case by arguing, but her hand was bleeding. It was intentional, malicious. Sabotaging your opponents was a cheap and despicable act, and if there were no consequences for Johzenji it would rattle her team. Throw off their pace for good. If they caught Shiratorizawa reeling, it wouldn’t be hard to score. 

“She stomped on my hand,” Natsu finds herself spitting out the words, disgusted, advancing on #08. “Ref, ma’am, this is ridiculous!” 

The referee just blows her whistle again, gesturing sharply towards the sidelines. Nagano is already jogging onto the field to replace her. 

“Hinata!” Utsugi calls again, her tone sharper than ever. “Off the field, go get that looked at.”

She pulls her gaze away from the disapproving referee to give her captain an incredulous look. 

Utsugi has always been pretty unsympathetic as captain, but the expression on her face right now is downright cold. Angry. And Natsu can tell, without even speaking to her, that Utsugi isn’t angry with the referee. She isn’t upset with the Johzenji player. 

“Get off the field, Hinata.” 

Natsu complies, too shocked by the menace in Utsugi’s tone to do anything else.

Natsu doesn’t speak for the rest of the game, but the damage is done. She gets patched up and Sameshima keeps her on standby for the rest of the first half, but never puts her in. They hold on to the tenuous balance for the remainder of the match, but Aone is switched out for Hirao in the second half with little explanation. Masuya scores for Shiratorizawa, but their lead is short-lived. With ten minutes left in the match, Kunitake Aimi—who’s been simmering for half an hour, since Johzenji’s #15 elbowed her without being reprimanded—gets yellow-carded for tripping up another player and Johzenji is awarded a free kick. Hirao isn’t used to setting up the defenders against set pieces, and Johzenji scores before any of them really have time to react. 

The game ends at a 1-1 tie. Shiratorizawa is—shaken. Utsugi gives a short speech before they pile onto the bus, telling them to move on, but all Natsu can think about is the fact that Utsugi, Aone—all of the third years, really—don’t look as upset about the outcome of the match as they should be. Kunitake, Yamane, and many others look just as upset as Natsu feels. 

The bus ride home is fraught with unaddressed tension. Players break off into smaller groups to chat or text, and not a single person seems comfortable talking about the game or Johzenji’s team.

She pretends to sleep on the bus so she doesn’t have to talk to Yokoyama sitting next to her. She offers quick reassurances to anyone that asks about her hand, grins brightly as she helps them return equipment to the clubhouse, and bikes home without saying goodbye. 

Natsu… is furious.

Tendou Satori pokes at his lunch idly, his eyes mostly glued to the new issue of Shounen Jump he’s flipping through. The table is surprisingly lacking in teammates today; both Kawanishi and Shirabu haven’t shown up, and Soekawa was somewhere in the music department with Ohira to sort out some logistics with the cheering section that usually went to their tournament games. 

Goshiki was here, but he hadn’t brought Hinata. Satori knew the soccer team had their first game yesterday, but he’d forgotten to nag Aone about who’d won. He’ll have to wait until history class to ask her, it’s the only afternoon class he has with Aone. 

Just as Satori thinks this, an alert pops up on his phone. New Message from 🖤🔪❄️🔥🖤

“Oho?” His lips curl up into a half-smile. Satori doesn’t immediately open the message. It’s too rare, he has to savor the moment. He considers screen-shotting it. 

“What is it?” Yamagata takes notice of his surprise. Satori doesn’t answer, just waggles his eyebrows at the libero until he gets annoyed. “Tendou, stop making faces.”

Satori feels an arm press against his shoulder, but doesn’t realize what’s happening until Ushijima speaks. “Tendou has received a LINE message from…. hm. Black heart, knife, snowflake, fire, black heart. I don’t recognize that combination of symbols as anyone I know.” 

Tendou locks the screen of his phone before Hayato can try to read it, and then playfully elbows Wakatoshi for reading over his shoulder. 

Semi snorts loudly. “Black hearts, is that a girl? Talk about mixed signals, Tendou.”

“Hush, you.” Satori sticks out his tongue. “Betcha don’t even have a girl’s number in your phone, Semi-Semi.” This has the desired effect of making Semi irate, and Satori takes the moment to scan across the lunchroom for someone, unsuccessfully.

“—several girls—on my phone!” Semi complains predictably. Satori finally opens the message, blinking down at his phone in surprise.

“Your sisters don’t count,” Hayato puts in his two cents, smirking. “Or your mom.”

Semi growls, stabbing at his lunch. “That still leaves a few. Fuck off, Hayato…”

“Do you have Hinata’s number?” Tendou says aloud. He’s actually just reading out the LINE message he received, but ends up getting several answers from his teammates at the same time. 

Yamagata and Yunohama say “No,” Ushijima asks who Hinata is, and both Semi and Goshiki reply with a “Yes.”

Tendou pauses, looking back at Semi in surprise. He’s not the only one. The setter scowls at the attention from the rest of the team. “What? She counts, I have her number.”

“I thought it was just me and Kawanishi-san that texted her.” Goshiki pipes up, genuinely curious. “I wasn’t sure you liked her that much, or if you were just tolerating her because she’s my friend.”

The setter picks at his plate with a shrug. “She’s easy to get along with,” he says, still plenty disgruntled by the disbelieving looks aimed his way.. “Why’d you ask, Tendou?” 

“Oh, I wasn’t,” Tendou raises an eyebrow. “I was reading out the message from Yui-kun. I’m surprised she doesn’t already have Natsu-kun’s contact info herself.” (Ushijima mumbles a lament about Tendou's habit of using first names instead of surnames, quietly realizing that Hinata is Goshiki's friend Natsu.)

Yamagata eyes him with suspicion. “Yui. Of course. She’s the one tutoring you, isn’t she?!”

Tendou gleefully flips him off.

“Oh,” Goshiki says warily, his eyes going wide. “You shouldn’t give Hinata’s number out. That’s the vice captain, right? Aone Yui?”

Tendou nods, eyeing the first year skeptically. “I smell somethin’ fishy going on here.” He leans towards the little bowl cut student curiously. “Where’s Natsu-kun right now?”

The first year balks. “Uh… I don’t actually know…” 

“I believe she is eating lunch with Shirabu and Kawanishi,” Ushijima, of all people, answers him. 

“Hah?” Semi stares at Ushijima, perplexed. “I get Kawanishi, but why’s Shirabu there?”

The captain holds out his phone and allows Tendou and Semi to read over the messages that prove his statement.

Ushijima: You are not at lunch. 

Shirabu: Yes, I’m busy. 

Ushijima: Do not skip meals.

Shirabu: We’re just eating in the classroom, ask Kawanishi-kun.

Ushijima: I will.

Tendou switches to the messages between Wakatoshi and Taichi.

Ushijima: Why are you eating in your classroom?

Kawaii-nishi: uhhh 

Kawaii-nishi: moral support for hinata

Kawaii-nishi: it’s complicated

Kawaii-nishi: i made sure shirabu has enough food, he’s not as bad as tendou.

Ushijima: Thank you. I know.

Tendou makes a face at the last exchange, but Wakatoshi just looks back at him with fathomless eyes. “So,” he switches his attention back to Goshiki. “Why’s Natsu-kun hanging out with Kenjirou-kun and Taichi-kun instead of all of us?”

Goshiki takes the phone from Tendou a little too eagerly, scanning through the messages himself. But he just shakes his head, equally bemused. “I don’t know. She’s mad at Utsugi-senpai, though, because of yesterday’s game….” the first year looks unsure. “According to Ideguchi—he’s on the men’s soccer team—Hinata’s injury was kind of Utsugi’s fault? Or Utsugi and Hinata disagree about the foul? Something like that. She must be avoiding the captain.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Yamagata interrupts first. “Hinata was injured? Is she alright?”

“O-Oh! Yeah, she’s fine!” Goshiki assures them. Tendou watches Semi pull out his phone from the corner of his eye, but says nothing of it. “Officially there was no foul called, but some girl stomped on Hinata’s hand—“

“What the hell,” Yuno exclaims around a mouthful of rice. 

“—and Hinata had to be subbed out because she was bleeding—“

“Goshiki, you just said she was alright,” Yamagata frowns. “That doesn’t sound alright.”

The first year holds out his hands placatingly. “She’s fine! Hinata won’t even have to sit out for practice, she just needs to get notes for all her classes because she can’t write fast...”

Satori glances down at his phone when it buzzes again, still partially listening to the conversation. 

🖤🔪❄️🔥🖤: it’s important

Tenderloin: 4 u or 4 sugirumi? 👀

Tenderloin: ohoho i guessed right

Tenderloin: its not ur job to fix her problems

🖤🔪❄️🔥🖤: i don’t want them to fight.

Tenderloin: rumi shouldnt start fights then ne??

Tenderloin: or let itty bitty first years provoke her.

Tenderloin: but dont mind me im just a lowly middle blocker :3

🖤🔪❄️🔥🖤: wheres hinata?

Tenderloin: 🙊🙊🙊

🖤🔪❄️🔥🖤: tendou 

Tenderloin: ʅ（‾◡◝）ʃ

🖤🔪❄️🔥🖤: fine, i’ll leave it alone.

Tenderloin: (⋆ˆ ³ ˆ)♥

Of course he gets no response for that one, he was pushing it with the kaomojis anyway. It’s surprising enough that she messaged him first, though it was about Hinata. Yui was notoriously uncommunicative, but that just made it all the more fun for Satori to befriend her. It was much like the way he got along with Wakatoshi, though his teammate was far more patient. There was a reason he put Yui’s name in his phone as a collection of weird emojis; she was a complicated person and their dynamic was even more confusing to most people. Still, Yui was actually a big ol’ softie at her core, same as Wakatoshi. They’d be two peas in an awkward and stoic pod.

Satori gives Ushijima a thoughtful look. 

Tenderloin: have u been to the new health store yet

🖤🔪❄️🔥🖤: ?

Tenderloin: on wakano street. wanna check it out? 

He pauses, poking Wakatoshi’s side. “Saturday,” he says without preamble. “Let’s go to that health store I mentioned near Wakano 3-ichomē, remember? You’d like it.”

Wakatoshi hums in agreement, looking over his shoulder again. He blinks at the visible conversation left on Tendou’s phone, reading it over neutrally. For all the work Satori has put into becoming better friends with Wakatoshi and Yui, as far as Satori knew, the two star athletes of Shiratorizawa had never met. They’d never had any classes together, and neither student did anything outside of school that didn’t relate to the sport they played. 

“...9am works,” Ushijima concedes, giving Tendou a long look that said, You’re-trying-to-lure-me-into-something-social-but-it-will-fail-because-all-I-care-about-is-volleyball. 

Well, challenge accepted, Miracle Boy. 

Tenderloin: 10am saturday 

“I said 9, Tendou.”

“Hush, you.” 

Tenderloin: meet at the bus stop, wakatoshi is coming

He puts away his phone instead of waiting for a reply. Getting Yui to agree to making plans is like pulling teeth, but he’s relatively certain she’ll cave. She’s a health nut like Wakatoshi, and he highly doubts she has anything planned for Saturday morning already. 

“So what’s with Aone?” Yamagata wonders, looking from Tendou to the phone in his hands. “Is she mad at Hinata too?”

Tendou tucks his phone away and holds up his empty hands. “Best not to interfere with soccer politics, Hayato-kun. I’m not giving away her hiding spot, either.” Tsutomu gives him a grateful look. 

“It is strange for a captain to be angry with an injured player,” Wakatoshi comments, picking at the remnants of his curry bowl. “I do not know the circumstances, but it does cast Utsugi-san in an unfavorable light.”

“Unfavorable, huh?” A sharp, feminine voice repeats the words from behind Tendou. All of the volleyball players freeze. Hayato and Tsutomu are facing the newcomer, and their faces are worryingly pale. “You’re one to talk, Ushijima-san.”

Satori twists around in his seat to see the third year girl, grinning. “Sugi-Rumi! Fancy meetin' you here!”

Utsugi Rumi is a short and stocky girl with a permanently disgruntled look on her face. Besides her expression, she’s a classical-beauty type of girl with peachy-pink skin and only the faintest tan from all the time spent outdoors. Her hair is a deep reddish-brown that she keeps tied back with red hair bands or clips, and her eyes are dark, dark brown. She wasn’t an outstanding player the way Ushijima was, but her team as a whole was formidable under her leadership and the current soccer programs at Shiratorizawa were well-funded in part due to her efforts. 

She wasn’t charming or polite or anything sweet—much like Wakatoshi—but her dedication was nothing to scoff at. (Nor was her physique. Satori didn’t miss the way Yunohama was looking at the gap between her skirt and her knee socks.)

Rumi doesn’t even react to Tendou, still staring down Ushijima without an ounce of uncertainty.

“Utsugi-san,” Wakatoshi greets her mildly. “What do you mean by that?”

Satori knows he’s being irrational, but the tension is so thick he thinks a physical fight might break out between the two captains. A fight that Rumi could probably win because Wakatoshi, bless his innocent soul, is either oblivious to said tension or has no fear of god. Satori hasn’t quite figured out which one it is. 

“I mean you’re not the most sympathetic captain either, Ushijima-san, so don’t make assumptions about how I operate,” Rumi says icily, picking her words with crystal clarity. “Got it?”

Ushijima pauses, tilting his head thoughtfully. “I apologize. That probably seemed presumptuous to you,” he admits evenly.

“It was,” Rumi says flatly, her gaze flickering past him and towards the remaining players.  “Have you seen Natsu?” She asks the team at large, but her eyes are laser-focused on poor Goshiki. 

“No,” Goshiki says immediately. 

“You’re in her homeroom class,” Rumi points out, unimpressed. “Goshiki, right?”

“Right. Right. I—saw her… this morning,” he backtracks, not meeting her eye. “I don’t know where she is now, but—uh—she’ll… she has practice? Later? With you?”

“That’s right,” Tendou cuts in, leaning on one arm. “Why not wait until you see her in practice, Sugi-Rumi?”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Rumi replies. “Do any of you know where Natsu is right now?”

“Nope,” Semi answers for them all, crossing his arms. His phone is face-down on the table. “She doesn’t eat lunch here every day. Haven’t seen her.”

Rumi stares at him. Semi struggles to stare back without breaking. He’s not good under pressure from girls. To be fair, no one’s good under pressure from a girl like Utsugi Rumi. No wonder Natsu fled.

“Alright,” Rumi says at last, turning on her heel. She offers no farewell as she leaves. 

The six teammates exchange bewildered looks. Hayato shudders. “That was terrifying.”

“No shit,” Eita grumbles. There’s actually sweat on his brow when he goes to wipe his face. Goshiki has also broken out into a cold sweat.

“I think I’m in love,” Yunohama discloses, rubbing his neck. “No one told me Hinata’s captain was fucking hot.”

“Y-Yunohama-san!” Goshiki stammers, blushing. “You’re crazy.”

Hayato slaps the back of the pinch server’s head. “Do you have a death wish, Yuno?”

But the second year just stares down at his tray of food, unabashed. “I guess I do. She could kill me and I’d thank her. God, her thighs....”

Semi, Tendou, Ushijima and Yamagata share concerned looks. The underclassmen simply don’t understand how frightening the girls in their year are. 

Alas, Tendou was never one to smother the hopes and dreams of his kouhai. “Oh, Yuno-kun…” He shakes his head. “I fully support your suicidal mission. I’ll find out what kind of chocolates she likes.” 

He and Yunohama fist-bump.

Kenjirou doesn’t know how he ended up in this mess, but here he is, playing the intermediary between an angry blond and a salty ginger while also hiding Hinata behind his desk by angling himself in his chair, trying to eat a damn sandwich in peace. As unlikely as it sounds, it’s worked out so far because Ikejiri Mayu, another third year on the soccer team, hadn’t bothered to step past the threshold of the classroom to search for Hinata when she scouted through this hallway. 

The situation is not ideal, obviously. And of course Kawanishi chose to stash his little sister in Kenjirou’s homeroom—’to throw people off their scent’—which also happens to be Kunitake Aimi’s homeroom, and the two of them are caught in a cycle of hissing at each other like stray cats behind a dumpster instead of figuring out what to do with Hinata.

Hinata, who is having a very hard time eating a bowl of rice and chicken with her non-dominant hand. It’s actually kind of sad, which is probably why Kenjirou caved in the first place. She insists that her right hand doesn’t hurt anymore, but it’s bundled up with gauze because at least three of her fingers had been bleeding yesterday. And Kenjirou knows it’d been her very first official game, too. What a shitty start to the season. 

“Tell me again why you’re still here, Kunitake?” Kawanishi grumbles from the seat he’s claimed near the front of the room. “Aren’t your little horned friends waiting for you back in hell?”

“Very cute, Kawanishi. How long did it take for you to think of that one, a month? Two? Oh don’t bother answering, I don’t want to go grey waiting for you to speak up.”

Kenjirou leans backwards in his seat and speaks in a low tone for Hinata. “Are you sure your captain’s actually mad at you? It seems unlikely.” Perhaps he’s biased, but he can’t imagine Ushijima ever getting so mad at him that he’d be hunted down by third years at lunch. 

The first year looks up from where she’s huddled on the ground. “She is, and… I don’t want to argue with her, but I’m mad too.”

“And so am I,” Kunitake interrupts, shooting one last glare at Kawanishi before slinking back into her seat by the window. She flips her hair back with a scowl. “I’m the only player that was carded in the match, and anyone with working eyes knows it was the wrong call.”

“We gave up a goal because of that call,” Hinata adds bitterly. “Hirao wasn’t ready for a set piece, and they knew it.”

“Yui shouldn’t have been taken out, there must’ve been four or five set pieces in our half at that point. And it’s all because Rumi doesn’t have the balls to challenge the referee,” Kunitake continues, rolling her eyes. 

Kenjirou stares at Kunitake in astonishment. He wasn’t keen on talking to Kunitake, and literally never spoke to her in class, but he can’t help but be curious. “You argue with the ref? Talking back to the referee would get us kicked off the court.”

The blonde girl arches an eyebrow at him, equally surprised to be addressed by Kenjirou. “If you’ve ever watched a single soccer match in your entire life, you’d know that we always argue with the ref,” she says disdainfully. “God, you volleyball nerds know nothing.”

“Aimi-san,” Hinata admonishes. Her bowl of rice nearly slips out of her hand, though, and she’s too distracted to continue the conversation. 

Kenjirou looks at the blonde with equal dislike. “Ugh. No wonder Kawanishi can’t stand you,” he mutters. 

She looks taken aback for all of half a second before she smirks. “Oh, Shira-baby, you think you can hurt my feelings?” Kunitake simpers. “Try harder next time.”

Kenjirou shudders. “Please don’t ever call me that again or I’ll be forced to bleach my brain.”

“Um, well—” Hinata makes a pitiful noise when the rice falls off her spoon. “There’s more leeway in soccer,” the first year speaks up, trying to adjust her grip on the utensil while steering the conversation away from disaster. Kenjirou contemplates the second half of his sandwich. “The referees can’t see everything that happens on the field, so they do listen to the players sometimes. Especially the captain! She has more authority than the rest of us.”

Kawanishi takes pity on Hinata and hands her a packet of pocky, wordlessly gifting her the rest of his snack. Hinata beams at him, and Kawanishi just nods.

Kunitake throws the two of them a thinly-veiled look of disgust at the display of friendship. “Anyway, Rumi kind of warned us about Johzenji, but—let’s be real. She said two words and left us to fend for ourselves. If she was so concerned about those shitty-haired girls messing up our play-style, why didn’t she tell us more about them? Simplicity and Fortitude, my ass. I didn’t even know about their #05 until she was out there bulldozing down Nagano. Fucking gorilla girl.”

Kenjirou catches Kawanishi’s eye briefly, unnerved by Kunitake’s foul mouth. I’ve never seen her like this, Kenjirou says with his expression. Oh she can get much worse, Kawanishi seems to reply. 

“Aimi-san,” Hinata says again, sounding disappointed. “That’s too harsh. I don’t like Johzenji either, but you’re just being mean.”

The blonde student just shrugs, but refrains from any further insults. 

“I don’t know what I’ll say to Utsugi-senpai at practice,” Hinata murmurs, deciding to drop the issue of Kunitake’s rudeness for now. “But she hasn’t been giving us the full picture. None of us have been talking about it. Aimi-san, what was it like playing Johzenji last year?”

Kunitake rolls her eyes so hard Kenjirou is surprised they don’t fall right out of her head. “You think I was a regular last year? Rumi wasn’t even a regular until last winter. She was even more of a bitch when she was second-string. Everyone was surprised when the third years chose her to be captain over Yui.”

Hinata nearly chokes on her drink. “Hang on, Aone was supposed to be captain? What?”

Kunitake flaps a hand at the girl carelessly. “Well, no. After Aone tore her ACL she wasn’t eligible to be captain—”

“Aone tore her ACL?!” Hinata squeaks, horrified. “No one’s mentioned that either, Aimi-san!”

Kenjirou grimaces at the thought. An ACL injury could easily end an athlete's career before it began. Privately, he vows to stretch for an extra five minutes before his afternoon practice. He can see Kawanishi subtly flexing his calves and assumes he’s thinking the same thing. 

“Honestly, Natsu. Don’t you ever listen to me?”

“No,” Hinata answers with a frustrated frown, “You keep shipping first years with the swim team.”

Kunitake clicks her tongue, but doesn’t dispute this point. Kenjirou has to concentrate a lot to stop himself from laughing. “What can I say? It’s a lot less depressing than talking about Aone almost quitting the team and Rumi turning into a beast to keep up with our reputation. I’d much rather talk about, hm, I don’t know, Osaka Keisuke?” She peers at Kawanishi emphatically. “Wouldn’t you?”

Kenjirou is lost. “Who the fuck is Osaka?”

Kawanishi shrugs with one shoulder, taking another languid bite out of his onigiri. “Beats me.”

“Is it Usami Takashi?” The blonde girl presses onward, unfazed. He doesn’t know why Kunitake is looking at Kawanishi like that, but Kenjirou does know Usami, vaguely. He’s in Kenjirou’s chemistry class, and he’s obnoxiously tall—

Hinata makes a weird squawking noise and fumbles with her carton of orange juice. “A-Aimi-san!” She says loudly, “You were talking about Utsugi and Aone. What happened last year? And Johzenji?”

Kunitake reluctantly pulls her eyes away from Kawanishi, frowning at Hinata. “There’s a reason we don’t talk about it, Natsu. New year, new team. It’s in the past.”

Hinata stares at Kunitake like she has two heads.

“I’m calling bullshit,” Kawanishi announces flatly. “You never pass up the chance to gossip.”

The blonde girl shoots a brief glare at Kawanishi. “This isn’t about gossip.” She glances at Hinata. “Only way you’ll know is if Rumi buckles down and actually tells the team what she’s thinking. So, never.”

“Well that doesn’t help me… I just want to know why she’s been acting so weird with us.” Hinata is quiet for a moment, and Kenjirou can’t tell if it’s because she’s thinking about what Kunitake said or because she can’t seem to pick up more than four grains of rice on her spoon. Her phone buzzes, and Hinata groans, carefully setting her bowl on Kenjirou’s desk (which he did not say she had permission to do, but Kawanishi is giving him a look), so she can take out her phone and read the message. 

Kenjirou silently considers the almost-full bowl of rice and chicken, and then the untouched half of his tuna salad sandwich, weighing his options. 

“Oi,” Hinata says suddenly, scrutinizing her phone. “Who told Semi about me? I know I told Goshiki not to bring it up.”

“Why the hell would I text Semi?” Kenjirou wrinkles his nose in annoyance. “Additionally, why the hell are you texting Semi?”

She shrugs passively. “Guess I get along with him better than you do, Shirabu-san.” 

Kenjirou doesn’t know why, but her answer makes him even more annoyed.

“I mentioned you when Ushijima texted me,” Kawanishi admits. “But to be honest I didn’t think he remembered who Hinata was.”

Kenjirou would think the first year would feel offended at that, but she just nods in understanding. “Well, Semi’s asking about Utsugi now.” Her phone dings again with a new message. “Oh. Utsugi actually went up to your lunch table to figure out where I was. That doesn’t sound good, I feel like our captains don’t like each other...”

“Should we relocate?” Kawanishi muses. “I don’t want to, I’m in the middle of a worksheet.”

The orange-haired girl shakes her head. “Goshiki says they didn’t tell her where we were, so I think we’re safe. Also, Yunohama-san… “ Hinata makes a face. “Really? Utsugi-san?”

Kenjirou looks at Kawanishi, askance, but the middle blocker just shrugs. Kunitake seems to catch on, though. 

“That buzz-cut guy? That’s just in poor taste.”

“I kind of feel bad,” Hinata murmurs. “Don’t tell the captain. He’ll be killed.”

“Some guys are into that.” Kunitake goes back to reading on her phone. “I won’t say anything, I want to see him try. I’ll bring popcorn.”

Kenjirou is thoroughly lost again, but at least this time Kawanishi is right there with him. “Do I even want to know what you’re talking about?” Kenjirou wonders aloud. “What happened to Yunohama?”

“I feel like I should be defending him,” Kawanishi adds. 

“Your teammate has fallen victim to Rumi’s nonexistent charm.” Kunitake almost sounds sad. “Definitely not a ship I can support.”

“You shouldn’t ship real people anyway,” Hinata covers her face in shame, and then she mumbles something else about shipping, and Kenjirou swears she mentions Semi, but he has no idea why she would. 

“I’ve been telling Kunitake that for months,” Kawanishi deadpans. “But she doesn’t have any human decency.”

“Don’t talk to me about human decency when you don’t even comb your hair,” Kunitake snips back. "You look terrible, by the way. Did you just roll out of bed?"

"And yet you wanted to date me. Raise your standards, Kunitake."

"You're literally insulting yourself, carrot-top."

"Am I though?"

Kunitake lets out a frustrated little scream.

Kenjirou goes back to tuning them out. Hinata scoots a chair over to his desk and picks up her food again, scowling in concentration at her spoon. 

“Do you like tuna?” He asks her suddenly. 

“Hm?” 

Kenjirou gently reaches over and swaps her bowl of rice for the rest of his sandwich. “I’m getting tired of fish,” he says belatedly, ignoring the skeptical look Hinata gives him. “I couldn’t keep watching you struggle with basic motor skills, either. It’s only funny for so long.”

Hinata gives a single huff of laughter, but says nothing more. The two of them eat quietly and watch Kawanishi and Kunitake toss insults at each other for the rest of the lunch period. 

Chapter Text

Utsugi doesn’t even look at Hinata during practice. But she doesn’t seem to be looking at anyone at all, not even while she’s instructing the next exercise or organizing the players into 3-v-3 teams. She goes through her duties impassively, her frown a fixed point on her face, as constant as any other law of nature. 

The whispered conversations continue; the looks exchanged between friends increases with each water break. 

Yui knew this would happen. 

It’s annoying to think, but Tendou had a point. Yui can’t stick around and hold Rumi’s hand while she confronted the team. She stood by the captain’s choices, but it wasn’t Yui’s job to speak for her or resolve conflicts she’s started. And more importantly, the captain’s not the only one dwelling on the Johzenji match. There’s a dejected first year goalie who gave up a goal in the very first game of the season that Yui ought to speak with. Rumi dug her own hole with the way she treated Hinata and Kunitake, but the goalkeeper was her responsibility.

She gives her captain one last parting glare, willing the defender to look up and acknowledge it, but it’s no use. Rumi’s equally, if not more stubborn than Yui. She turns her attention to Hirao Chika, the tall and uncertain girl who’ll have to pick up the slack if (when) Yui is out of commission. 

“Hirao,” she begins, passing a water bottle to the girl on the bench. The first year’s head snaps up in an instant, eyes wide as saucers. Honestly. The second year girls hyped up Aone Yui far beyond what she deserves, and it intimidates their youngest players into speechlessness in front of their goalkeeper. 

“Y-y-yes, Aone-senpai?!” Hirao stammers, brushing her bangs away. “Do you need something? Did I do something?”

Yui sighs. It’s going to be a long practice.

It seemed, at first, like the whole team had collectively chosen to push past their infuriating first game with Johzenji. Natsu included. She brushes off any concerns over her hand, and kept herself focused on their drills. But as time ticked by, she caught more and more tense expressions on her teammates’ faces. She overhears Aimi and Nakajima whispering heatedly at the bench, only to shut up when a third year jogged over. Natsu watches Aone pull aside Hirao for goalie training, but all they seemed to do was pass a ball between them and talk. 

As the end of practice rolls around, it seems like the lines have been drawn. Aone and Hirao are still talking by the goal, collecting training cones. The third year starters, Iwabuchi, Utsugi, Sugasawa, and Sakaguchi, are standing in a semi-circle that blocks them off from the rest of the team. Ikejiri Mayu is also a third year starter, but she’s known for being apathetic towards most of the team, so it isn’t surprising that she’s ignoring the tension between players.

The only people who didn’t seem affected by their first game is Oga Risako, a second year defender who smugly informed them all she had a date with a blonde-haired Johzenji student; and Ichise Nana, her closest friend on the team, who loudly opposed Risako’s budding relationship with a 'delinquent'. 

Natsu hadn’t even noticed Oga talking to anyone during yesterday’s game. There’d been a couple of Johzenji students sitting in the bleachers, evidently, and one of them struck up a conversation with Oga and ended up exchanging phone numbers with her. It’s a common occurrence on the girls’ team—every girls’ team that Natsu has ever been on—to talk about crushes and cute boys. Natsu doesn’t think she’ll ever have the courage to tell a whole convocation of Shiratorizawa eagles about something so personal.

If Natsu had to choose, she’d rather confess her deepest secrets to Semi Eita rather than fess up to a group of girls. 

Natsu gets along with guys for a reason. Though she’s still beyond embarrassed about what happened with Semi, he’s kind of tactful about it. Maybe it’s specifically because Natsu’s a girl, but her guy friends—Ideguchi on the soccer team, Wataru and Koji from junior high, and now most of Goshiki’s team—knew boundaries. 

But girls? Her team? They can't help but meddle. It only took two weeks of classes before Aimi started on her case about Goshiki. Even the well-meaning ones, like Hirao and Yokoyama, can’t keep a secret to save their life. Or they were intentionally evil, like Ikejiri and whatever dirt she had on Ariyoshi that was keeping the scary first year in line. Aone and Utsugi seemed more trustworthy, but Natsu wasn’t on good terms with them right now.

Not that Natsu had anything to confess. This was all hypothetical.

Oga Risako, however, thrived on girl talk. She wanted everyone’s opinion on the matter, her excitement bubbling out of her almost uncontrollably. So even though Natsu has no stake in Oga’s love life, she falls into the debate anyway, because it’s the only good thing that came out of the Johzenji game.

“But he’s so cute, Nana!” Oga complains, elbowing Ichise. “And his hair is cool. He bleached it himself.”

Ichise rolls her eyes. “He’s dumb. I’ve seen his texts, he can’t even spell ‘school’ properly. You could do so much better.”

“He’s on the volleyball team, too!” Oga insists, suddenly looking at Natsu. “Come on. You like volleyball players too, right Hinata?”

Natsu looks back at the defender in surprise. “I don’t,” she refutes, maybe a little too quickly, but all she can think about is that time she ran into a lamppost, so she also ends up saying, “But that probably means he’s in good shape, huh.”

“Hinata,” Ichise whines, but Oga jumps on the statement with zeal. 

“He’s very fit,” Oga declares seriously. “Like, if I had to compare him, he’s a lot like Maya-kun.”

“Physically, yes,” Ichise interrupts. “But he’s a bit much. He probably skips school and steals liquor from his parents.”

“He’s like Maya-kun on crack,” Oga revises. Ichise is not convinced this is a good thing.

Sugita Hina, on the other hand, hums with appreciation. Natsu gives her a questioning look. “She means the captain of the boy’s soccer team, Yoshino Maya,” Sugita explains. “He lets everyone call him Maya-kun.”

Natsu raises her eyebrows. “Captain Yoshino? Oh…”

“Yeah,” Sugita nods in agreement.

They’ve had two joint practices with the boys’ team so far. Yoshino Maya is the polar opposite of Utsugi Rumi, a fun-loving captain that takes risks and lets his team run wild. He’s the cool guy of Shiratorizawa, and his energy was infectious. 

Natsu doesn’t want her own captain to be like Yoshino, but he was probably loads of fun to hang out with. And maybe also date, because he was fun and silly and… uh, in very good shape. 

(There’s been discussion, in the girls’ locker room, about how soon the summer heat wave will become too much to bear. Because when it’s too hot outside, the boys’ team refuses to wear pinnies to differentiate teams during practice because they don’t want to wear more than one layer of clothes. Instead, they postpone their scrimmage until after hours, without their coach or trainers present, and play shirts versus skins in the public park.)

Natsu directs her full attention back to her water bottle. She’s seen enough skin to fulfill any curiosity she had about high school boys...

“Let’s ask the experts,” Ichise urges, pushing the group towards the other girls around the water station. “Akari! Ike! Hana!” Ichise points to each girl firmly. “Tell us if this ‘Terushima’ guy is boyfriend material or not.”

Oga’s face drops. “This is unfair. This is a biased group. Hana doesn’t even have a boyfriend right now.”

Takahashi Hana narrows her eyes at Oga. “Only because he wasn’t boyfriend material anymore. Let’s see those messages.”

“No!” Oga scowls as Ichise hands over her phone. “Let me live, oh my god!”

“This is for your own good,” Ichise intones. “I don’t want you to get all depressed again when he disappoints.”

“I met Daisuke at an indoor soccer arena!” Kurishima Akari says helpfully, running fingers through her blonde hair to re-pin her bangs. “He’s so hot! Isn’t he hot, Ikejiri? Plus, it’s nice to share a passion with someone, he understands how busy I am. You know he bought me flowers for my birthday? And oh my gosh, he was so cute when I told him I was on my period, he gave me chocolate and....” 

The rest of the girls begin to tune her out. Kunitake and Nakajima are closer friends with Kurishima, but even they look a little exhausted as she lists Daisuke’s endless good traits.

Ikejiri gives them an uninterested look, eyes half-lidded, as she picks at a dirt stain on her jersey. “My love life is none of your damn business.”

“Mysterious as ever, Ike-Ike!” Yamane howls, giving her a hearty pat on the back. 

“Too mysterious,” Ariyoshi mutters, cocking an eyebrow. “Does this boyfriend even exist?”

“YOSHI!” Yamane smacks the back of her head. “Respect your senpai!”

Ariyoshi mutters something vaguely threatening. Ikejiri gives no reaction at all, simply taking a sip of water thoughtfully. “It’s okay. Better to have a private, loving relationship than to pine after, oh, who was it? Kou… no, Ken—?”

“Alright! I get it, shut up,” Ariyoshi interrupts loudly, throwing her hands up. “I was joking, shit, Ike...”

Her teammates laugh, and Natsu gives a nervous chuckle before stepping back. The kind of information she might accidentally get from this conversation doesn’t seem worth the wrath of players like Ikejiri and Ariyoshi. Natsu prefers the bliss of ignorance. She’d be much better off, for example, if she was totally oblivious to the new crush Yunohama had on her captain.

Oh, Yunohama. Natsu really wishes that Semi hadn’t told her about that. It’s her own fault for letting Aimi know too, but Natsu hadn’t counted on Semi giving her a play-by-play of Utsugi Rumi frightening the volleyball team into submission. 

“Y’know,” Hana begins, her head tilted to the side as she considers the smartphone in her hands. She doesn’t say anything else, but Oga lights up, already able to tell that Hana is on her side.

“Yes! Hana, he’s cool!”

“I dunno about cool, but I’m not seeing anything bad here…”

“No,” Ichise snaps, pulling the phone away. “No, you’re not here to approve of Terushima.”

Hana shrugs, placing her hands on her hips. “A coffee date couldn’t hurt.”

Oga whoops, pumping a fist. “Hana, you’re beautiful, Satoshi didn’t deserve you anyway.” Ichise groans. “Nanaaa! You have to help me pick out an outfit!” Ichise groans louder.

A few more girls approach the benches, carrying the last of their supplies from practice. Sameshima calls for their attention, giving the players a few parting words about tomorrow’s morning practice before instructing Utsugi to lead the rest of the clean up. 

Sameshima leaves, and Natsu’s team seems to ice over, leaving nothing but a frigid atmosphere. 

It all goes down very quickly from that point on.

Utsugi finally parts from the trio of third years, looking over the team with a small frown. “We’re having a team meeting in the clubroom in thirty minutes. If you want to get changed or shower, do it quickly, but I want everyone present.” She pauses, her eyes stopping on Aone before skirting away.

“Hinata. Kunitake. Hirao. Follow me.” The captain turns on her heel, heading towards the clubhouse. 

“Why.”

Aimi’s question makes her stop short. It’s obvious that Utsugi is stiff as a board, almost shaking with tension trying not to snap at the second year. “We need to discuss your behavior.”

“MY behavior?” Aimi all but shrieks, shattering any facade of normalness the team’s been wearing since they tied Johzenji. “Whatever you have to say about my behavior, you can say to all of us, Rumi. I’m not the one that needs an attitude adjustment.”

“Aimi-san,” Hirao says quietly, holding her arm. “C’mon.” The goalie’s been downcast all day, but there’s a lightness to her eyes now that she’s spoken with Aone. Natsu can’t help but feel a little jealous. Everyone knows that Aone is better with controlling team morale, and ever since Aimi brought up how Aone could’ve been captain, Natsu can’t help but wonder what if. 

Aimi doesn’t pull her arm away, but she throws Hirao an annoyed look. “You might be over that goal, but I’m not.”

Hirao shies away from Aimi, hurt flashing in her eyes. Natsu hates this. Of course Hirao isn’t over it, it’d been her first game, just like Natsu.

Aimi ignores her for the captain. “Rumi, where were you?” The blonde girl demands, suddenly pointing a finger at Natsu. “Where were you, when Natsu got cleated? Where were you when I was getting my jersey pulled by #15? Where were you while Emi was getting trash-talked by Jozenji’s defenders, or when Yamane got tripped up by #05?”

“Kunitake,” Utsugi says in warning, but Aimi goes for the killing blow next. 

“Where were you when Hirao was setting up a wall, ten minutes into playing her first game, trying to prepare for a free kick she’s never faced before?” Aimi demands, brushing hair out of her eyes. “Oh, that’s right. You were too busy rolling over for the referee, pretending not to hear the shit Johzenji was saying about your team. The least you could do is let us have some dignity.”

Natsu has never wanted to sink into the floor more than she does right now. 

“Aimi, drop it,” Yamane pipes up, grimacing. Despite being their loudest player, Yamane Erina has been pretty quiet about the whole affair so far. As their top scorer, she’d been a starter before even Utsugi was. 

Natsu is beginning to see a pattern. 

Iwabuchi, Sakaguchi and the other starters from last year have been the least contentious on the team. They’re not happy about how the game went, but they aren’t furious the way Aimi is. They knew something about this team that the rest of the players didn't. Aimi was right, at lunch, when she told Natsu there were things that Utsugi would never tell them... 

“C’mon guys, let’s head to the lockers,” Sakaguchi suggests, herding the rest of the team towards the building. 

Yokoyama follows the older girls. So do most of the second years, except for Nakajima Emi and Sugita Hina. Aone and Ikejiri leave, but Nagano Fuka, who replaced Natsu in the game after her injury, stays put. Sugasawa looks torn, but walks off with Iwabuchi, the other starting forward. 

More lines drawn in the sand, pulling apart the team. 

You're making it worse, Captain.

Emi stays for Aimi, Nagano stays because Sakaguchi leaves, Kurishima stays because Nagano doesn’t leave. Yamane only leaves because Aone does, but Yokoyama leaves because it’s what the second years are doing. 

It’s confusing. Natsu doesn’t want to keep track of these kinds of things. 

Utsugi stares at the stragglers. “Go. I’ll talk to you all in a few minutes,” she insists, rather half-heartedly. 

“Is every game going to be like this with you?” Ariyoshi asks impatiently, refusing to move from the bench. “You’re not a coward, and it won’t kill you to talk back to the ref. What’s wrong with wanting a fair game?”

“No game is fair,” Utsugi rumbles, hands balling into familiar, angry fists. “There’s always a team with a better chance than the other one. Someone is always favored, someone’s always got the advantage.”

Hirao picks her head up, eyeing the captain. “So, what? You expected them to score on me? Did you expect a draw? A loss?”

The captain’s expression shifts to something closer to guilt. “Hirao, I should’ve handled the free kick better than that. You’ll be working more closely with Aone to—”

“Why did you pull Aone out in the first place?” Aimi interrupts, stepping in front of the goalie. “She wasn’t injured, wasn’t fatigued. It was a lousy decision to try a new keeper, our defense had holes. Is she still recovering or not?”

Aggravated, Utsugi shuts her eyes briefly before answering. “She’s recovered. I made the call to pull her out."

"Why?"

"Johzenji was getting more aggressive. Aone had to come off the goal line eight times in the first half," Rumi explains tightly. "Usually, if a goalie collides with a player, the referee will side with the goalie more readily. Aone knows that’s not the case for her. She's bigger and stronger than most high school keepers, that's just a fact. If a foul was called on her, in a match with Johzenji, I was certain it would mean a penalty kick for them.” She looks back at Hirao with a nod. “That’s not to say I wasn’t worried about you too, Hirao. But Johzenji backed off when you came in, didn’t they? They weren't as physical with you, because the referee would favor the smaller player.”

Hirao gives a short, hesitant nod. “And… Aone-san got her injury in a match like this one, right?”

“Yeah. That too.” Utsugi gives them a terse, brittle smile. “Against Inarizaki High, in round two in Kyoto.” 

Kyoto is where they held the national tournament last season. The location changes each autumn, rotating between different regions with the proper field space to hold multiple games a day. 

“And then Utsugi got red-carded in the next game,” Nagano adds, casting the captain a sympathetic look. “And we lost to Nohebi Academy 5 - 1.”

Natsu is floored. Utsugi is glaring at the grass now. That’s…. that’s… 

“That’s not an excuse.”

The team goes so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Natsu stands, paralyzed, not quite sure if she spoke or if this is a nightmare playing out in real time.

Utsugi stares at her. Perhaps she’s also in shock, because she isn’t ripping Natsu to pieces just yet. “What do you mean?”

Natsu looks up at the captain blankly. “That probably sounds rude. Uh.” Natsu flounders. “But, Utsugi-san. That was last year. Last year doesn’t matter anymore. You’re not a cautious player. I don’t think you were elected captain so you could be cautious. Maybe that’s what last year’s team was like, maybe that’s what they needed—but we’re not them.”

There’s a beat of emptiness between them, in which Natsu internally begins to write her own will before her teammates speak up.

“Hinata has a point. You’re captain now,” Nakajima says. “You can do what you want, and in the end, we’re going to follow, but. New year, new group chat—and new team, Utsugi.”

Utsugi cringes at the cheesy line she used in the group chat. “Yeah,” she says doubtfully, rubbing her neck. 

“We’re not gonna lose to freakin’ Nohebi as long as I’m on the field,” Ariyoshi snaps fiercely. “And do you really think any referee is gonna look Hinata in the face and red-card her? She’s a shrimp. Let her throw a tantrum on the field once in a while.”

Natsu splutters. “Wh—hey, Ariyoshi,” she protests. “I’m not small. I’m above-average height! And I wasn't throwing a—!”

“Who cares?” The defender scowls at Natsu. “You have a baby face, Hinata.”

“I’m two months older than you!” 

“If anyone else besides Hinata had pushed another player on the field, they’d be carded,” someone else adds. “I mean, that’s how they got Aimi.”

“You’re too innocent to get in trouble.”

Natsu gapes. “Is it Pick On Natsu Day?! You all think I’m wimpy?!”

Nakajima cocks her head to the side. “That’s not at all what we’re saying, though?”

“Shush!” 

“Enough,” Utsugi huffs before Ariyoshi can say anything more. She runs a hand over her face and then looks over the collection of players. “What the hell is this group? I should’ve just kept everyone on the field for this shit,” Utsugi mumbles irritably. “The last thing I want to do is sabotage our chances of making it to the final rounds in Nationals, because last year—last year it really was on me. You get it, right? We ended our run because I lost my temper.”

Thorny vines wrap around Natsu’s heart, tightening painfully. To accept the blame entirely like that… I’d break under that kind of burden.

“This is my last chance at Nationals,” the captain continues quietly. “There’s the spring tournament as well, but the third years are retired by then unless we get scouted. This team deserves to win it all. I can see our path so clearly, I…” she flushes. Natsu’s never heard Utsugi sound so gentle before, but she’s intimately familiar with the yearning in her expression. “I’m just doing my best, everyone. I want us to be the best. I hope it’s enough.”

The silence lengthens between them. Natsu’s mind is blazing with hurt and wonder and respect.

This whole argument is so silly. 

Sugita coughs. “Natsu, are you crying?”

Rumi looks at her skeptically. Everyone else turns to her as well.

Natsu sobs, and runs at Utsugi. “CAPTAIN! I’LL DO MY BEST TOO!”

They almost topple over from the force of the collision, but Utsugi keeps her footing and catches the first year haphazardly. “Seriously?” Utsugi mutters, stiff as a board. Natsu doesn’t care. She already knew the captain was bad with emotions, so it doesn’t surprise her in the least that she can’t hug properly. That’s why Natsu’s here. 

“THEY’RE HUGGING NOW?” Someone shouts from afar. “I WANT IN.”

Utsugi shifts, peering over Natsu’s shoulder. “No. Yamane, no—”

The second year striker leaps onto Natsu’s back, and the three of them come even closer to keeling over. 

“Are we doing a group hug now?” Kurishima wonders eagerly. 

Iwabuchi laughs. “Hell yeah we are. Yoshi, don’t run away.”

“Ugh,” Ariyoshi whines. “No thanks, no one’s showered yet.”

“Ike, you too!” Oga insists. Natsu can’t see much now, but one by one, she can feel her teammates piling onto the hug.

“There are too many people for this…”

“I can’t breathe!”

“Someone take a picture!!”

Goshiki is in the common room of the boys’ dormitory that night, slaving away over a chapter on molecular biology alongside a few other team members. They were all working on different assignments, but it was nice to be around the other players anyway. Ohira was nice enough to call for study breaks once in a while, and Soekawa paid for snacks (though he forced Goshiki and Sagae to go out to the vending machines and fetch them).

A phone buzzes, but Goshiki’s eyes are fixed on the page, scribbling out notes on important terms. So it’s Umeda, a second year middle blocker, that scoops up the phone. 

And while it’s true that Goshiki put a passcode lock on his phone, it is also true that his password is 1-1-1-1.

Umeda isn’t a particularly nosy guy. He is, however, very close with Akakura. “Huh,” he says lightly, glancing up at Akakura.

Akakura Kai is exceptionally nosy. He looks at the familiar red phone in Umeda’s hands, and raises both hands surreptitiously. 

Umeda lobs it at the first year, who catches it soundlessly. Akakura flips open the phone, leaning back so that Yunohama can look at the screen from over his shoulder. 

Good news, Rumi didn’t kill anyone!
Bad news, I’m on the starting roster...

Akakura shares a questioning look with Yunohama. It’d be wrong to pose as Goshiki, they already know she doesn’t approve of them snooping around. But the bowl-cut boy is really intent on studying and hasn’t even noticed his phone was gone…. Besides, Hinata was their friend too, so… 

hey, why is that bad? - Kai 
Does Rumi like Adidas or Nike? - Yuno

The response comes a few minutes later, just when they start to think Hinata is ignoring them.

She calls the phone. 

“Shit!” Yunohama tries to slap the phone out of Akakura’s hands. “Get rid of it!”

“What do you mean, get rid of it?!” The first year snaps, pulling the phone out of reach. “She already knows it’s us.”

“What’re you two doing?” Soekawa glares at them.

“Put your phone away, we’re trying to study,” Semi adds irritably. 

Goshiki finally looks up from his textbook, blinking. Realization dawns on his face. “Is that my phone again?!”

“Nope,” Yuno answers in a heartbeat, quickly swiping the phone out of Akakura’s hands and rejecting the call. “Nothing to see here.”

Goshiki stands, holding out a hand for his phone. “Who was calling me??” 

“It was a spam call,” Akakura blurts out, leaning away from the wing spiker. “Nothing important. I can’t even unlock your phone.”

“You should get back to studying,” Yunohama adds. “You’re not good at science.”

He pauses, grimacing at the statement. It’s true that he’s struggling with all the reading material in his science class. And no one really calls him at this hour, he talked to his parents just after dinner already. “But why do you have my phone?”

Yuno wags a finger at the first year admonishingly. “Because I don’t want you distracted! Here, Ohira-san, you should hold onto it until we’re done with our homework,” he thrusts the phone at the older student before anyone can protest. The phone is locked again, so as long as Hinata doesn’t try calling, they won’t see who was trying to contact Goshiki. If they can escape back to their rooms before Goshiki looks at the messages, he won’t have the opportunity to complain until tomorrow. 

“...Okay?” Ohira says confusedly, accepting the phone. “Goshiki, you did say that you wanted to work on your grade. I won’t look at your phone.”

“I know you won’t, I trust you,” Goshiki admits, frowning at Akakura suspiciously. But he sits back down, and the room returns to relatively silence. 

Then, a phone rings.

Akakura and Yunohama share a moment of panic, before they realize it’s a different ringtone, and not from Goshiki’s phone. It’s not Hinata, thank goodness.

“Ah, that’s mine, sorry,” Semi says abruptly, patting down his pockets for his smartphone. He glances at the caller ID and looks perplexed as he puts the phone to his ear. “Why're you calling me, Hinata?”

“Hinata?!” Goshiki splutters. 

“Shit,” Yunohama and Akakura mutter in unison. 

Semi listens for a moment, and then his eyes flicker up to Yunohama and Akakura. They consider bolting from the room. Semi gives them a look that tells them in no uncertain terms that they are to stay put. “Yeah, a bunch of us are studying right now.”

“Why is Hinata calling you?” Goshiki demands, also giving Yunohama a look. “Did you hack my phone?!”

“It’s not hacking,” Yunohama points out.

“You should hang up,” Akakura recommends loudly, shuffling over so he’s between Goshiki and Semi. “What happened to studying, Semi-san? Ohira-san, he’s being a disturbance, isn’t he?”

Ohira looks lost. “Well—”

“Shush,” Semi pulls the phone from his ear, “I can’t hear her. Oi, Hinata, I’ll put you on speaker.”

“NO!” Yunohama flails.

Beep. 

“Oho, speakerphone? Hello everyone!” Hinata’s voice is light and easy. “Especially you, Kai-kun~! Yuno-kun~!”

Several pairs of judgemental eyes land on Akakura and Yunohama. 

“Hinata!” Goshiki shouts back, his cheeks pink. “I’m sorry, they stole my phone again!”

“Mm, yeah, Goshiki. They did,” she agrees flatly. “Are you listening, Akakura? Yunohama?”

“Yeah,” Yunohama speaks after a moment.

“We’re here,” Akakura reluctantly adds. 

“Semi says you’re supposed to be studying. I don’t want to bother you all, I’m sorry for calling like this. But could you PLEASE STOP TEXTING ME THROUGH GOSHIKI’S PHONE?”

The room startles at her sudden shout. The two offenders grow pale. 

“IF YOU WANT TO TALK SO BADLY, ADD ME TO A GROUP CHAT, AKAKURA!” She snaps. “AND YUNOHAMA!” He flinches. “I—it’s—Go ask Rumi, not me, oh my god! Introduce yourself. What use is it pining over someone that doesn’t know you exist?!”

Yunohama blushes deeply, hanging his head. He can’t even look at the phone. “Uh. Right. Um.”

Yamagata and Semi burst into laughter, pouncing on Yunohama. Goshiki reaches for the phone, and Semi passes it over with no protest. 

“Hinata,” he says in low tone, quickly taking the call off speakerphone. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve paid more attention… Oh, you’re a starter now? Wait...” He drifts to the edge of the room for some semblance of privacy.

Yamagata pounds Yunohama on the back. “Going to Hinata for love advice, hah? What about us, Yuno-kun?”

“Shut up,” Yuno shoves him, disgruntled and still blushing. “I wasn’t doing that. Who told her about Rumi anyway?”

“I did,” Semi admits shamelessly, rolling his eyes, “As if you weren’t gonna blab about it anyway. We know you, Yuno.”

“Well,” he huffs, ducking his head, “It’s not like either of you are any help.”

“I’m in Utsu-san’s class,” Semi argues, elbowing him. “We’re not Hinata-Goshiki close, but we’ve talked before. And didn’t Tendou support you?”

“Is it really support if it’s from Tendou?” Yuno asks bluntly. Unfortunately, he has a point. Tendou isn’t in the room at the moment, but even if he was, he wouldn’t be able to dispute that. 

Tendou is the kind of guy that likes to watch others crash and burn. He’d bring popcorn.

“Also, did you just say Hinata-Goshiki, like it’s a modifier?” Soekawa wonders.

“Huh?” Semi frowns. “What the hell is a modifier?”

“An adverb.”

“Uh… right…”

“Jin, You’re forgetting that Semi sucks at grammar,” Yamagata pipes up, cackling. Semi smacks him. 

“Enough about me, I was just trying to help Yuno.”

“I think I like Hinata’s help more,” Yuno says miserably. “I bet she’s confessed before, which is more than I can say for any of you cowards.” That earns him a smack from Jin, Eita, and Hayato. Yuno scowls. “You’re mad because I’m right!”

“Now you’re just asking for it!” Yamagata howls, tackling him off the couch and pinning him into a headlock. 

“I—stand by my—statement!” Yuno chokes out. 

“Do you really want her advice? I don’t think Hinata’s ever confessed,” Semi points out thoughtfully. He scratches his head in consideration, and then shoves Yamagata and Yunohama farther from the couch so they don’t kick his notebooks. “She’s actually not that bold at all.”

“What happened to studying?” Ohira asks, hopelessly. “Boys, come on.”

“Otherwise Goshiki and Hinata would be dating,” Soekawa adds, ignoring Ohira. “Or, at least, Hinata would be dating…” 

“I can hEaR yOu!” Goshiki shrieks at them, his voice breaking mid-sentence. “Shut up!”

“Did Hinata hear your voice crack?” Yuno yells back. “Hinata, have you ever confessed successfully before?!”

Goshiki looks horrified, covering the receiver end of the phone. “Don’t ask her that!”

“Goshiki, give me my phone,” Semi gets up and stretches. “You can talk tomorrow.”

Ohira sighs. “We’re going to be scolded for all this noise...”

“Oh! Semi! Right, sorry!” Goshiki stammers, turning his mouth to the receiver again. “This is Semi’s phone, I should give it back—“

Semi doesn’t let him finish, plucking the phone out of his hand unceremoniously. “Oi, Hinata, Yuno’s gonna keep badgering you for love advice. Should I give him your number?”

Yuno yells from underneath Yamagata, who’s still sitting on him.

“Hm. Alright then… oh? Don’t complain about that to me, I'm a pinch server. Yeah. I’m hanging up now.” Semi ends the call and looks at Yunohama blankly. 

“Well?”

“She says you’re hopeless and to stop bothering her.”

“WHAT?!” Yuno wails, grabbing Yamagata’s bicep for comfort. “Really?”

Semi laughs. “Kidding. She says emails are better because she doesn’t have a good data plan for too much texting.” 

Yuno clutches at his heart. “Hinata’s the only kind-hearted person in this school! I’m blessed to know her!”

Goshiki looks tired. “When did you all get so chummy with Hinata?” He asks, though it’s more like a whine. 

“Why, are you jealous now?” Semi snorts, returning to the couch. “You can’t be possessive if you’re not dating.”

“You especially!” Goshiki points at the setter suspiciously, ignoring the jab about dating. “Why do you have Hinata’s number? Since when? Were you asking her for love advice too?!”

Semi freezes, glaring at the first year. “I don’t need advice.”

Yuno jumps on the chance to razz Semi. “You’re not dating anyone, so clearly—“ Semi picks up a spiral notebook and hurls it at Yuno. “Ack! Violence doesn’t mean I'm wrong! You're trying to silence me!”

“Can we get back to studying?” Ohira interrupts again, finally getting to his feet. “It’s getting late.”

“I’m done here,” Semi throws up his hands. “Yuno and Kai ruined the peace.”

“Hey!” Akakura protests. “I was just asking her why she’s upset about being a starter!”

“It’s because she’s stuck as a defender,” Goshiki explains flatly, frowning at Akakura. “She wants to be a midfielder. And she was telling me about it, not you!”

"She whined about that to me, too," Semi quips. Goshiki glares. "And Taichi."

Akakura sticks out his tongue. “Don’t be jealous, Goshiki.”

“I’m not jealous! She’s angry at you for reading her messages!”

“Actually,” Yuno interrupts, “She told him to make a group chat.”

“She angrily told him to make a group chat,” Goshiki corrects him, fuming. 

Yamagata makes a noise of surprise, whipping around to Soekawa. “Angrily. That’s an adverb, right?”

Soekawa throws him a thumbs up. “Ooh, nice one. You could learn a thing or two from Hayato, Eita-kun.” Yamagata pumps a fist. Semi kicks him in the ribs, and then suddenly the three third years are wrestling. Goshiki and Akakura continue to argue. Umeda slides down in his armchair, pretending he had nothing to do with starting this mess. 

Ohira looks at his unfinished workbook mournfully, and begins to pack up. 

Chapter Text

On Saturday morning, Yui walks out of the girls’ dormitory down to the bus station at the edge of Shiratorizawa’s campus. It’s a nice day, a little warmer than it had been during her morning run, but the sun isn’t beating down on her either. She’s grateful for that, since the summer season has begun and it’s unbearably hot when she has to stand around the goal for ninety minutes in a long-sleeve keeper’s jersey. Worse, Yui is painfully pale, and gets sunburnt easily. 

Today is nice. She wouldn’t mind walking to that health store, but Tendou lives off-campus and he instructed her to meet at the bus stop. 

There’s a tall student with dark greenish hair already waiting by the sign. 

“Ushijima-kun,” she greets him once she’s close enough. “Good morning.”

He nods. “Good morning. You're Aone-san, right?”

She’s pleased that Tendou’s habit of calling her Yui-kun hasn’t rubbed off on him. Yet. There’s still time for Tendou to change that. Yui glances at what he’s wearing. “Yes. Do you have practice later?” He’s in jogging shorts and a windbreaker, but they’re not in school colors. 

“No,” he answers. 

Yui just nods. She isn’t so surprised that Ushijima still wears athletic clothes when he’s not training. And it’s not like Yui would judge. She owns plenty of dresses and skirts, but she’s wearing running shorts and a light jacket today, too. 

“Do you?” Ushijima asks out of the blue.

Yui looks back at him, but unsurprisingly, his face is flat and unreadable. “Do I have practice today? Yes, but not till sundown.”

He nods again, silent as the grave. Yui isn’t too worried about that. Tendou will probably speak more than the two of them combined. 

Her phone vibrates in her pocket. Tendou. 

Yui blinks at the unknown number added to the LINE message, and the rambling texts from Tendou to inform them he’s on the 10:05 bus. Ushijima is also looking at his phone now. She huffs. “I don’t think we need a group chat for this,” she says quietly. “We’re just going to a store.”

“Tendou has many group chats,” Ushijima replies solemnly. “Many are with the same people, but serve different purposes. I’m in a group for third year players, a group for the whole volleyball team, and also one for volleyball starters only. And a secondary group for the whole team, but it’s only used for pictures.”

Yui adds Ushijima’s number to her contacts so it appears as ‘ushijima w’ instead of a string of numbers on her phone. “That sounds like something Tendou would do.”

tendou s has changed the group name to ‘superstars + satori’

Yui frowns at her phone. It seems a bit self-deprecating of Tendou to call it that. He’s always quick to congratulate Yui on her games or call Ushijima a Miracle Boy, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a great athlete too. 

A text from Ushijima pops up next.

ushijima w: i don’t like our group name

Yui nods, not looking at Ushijima as she edits the group chat to ‘trip to wakano street’. It’s a long name for a chat group, but far more accurate. 

“That’s better,” Ushijima says aloud. “But I think he’ll keep changing it.”

“That’s alright. It’s only for today, anyway,” she shrugs. 

Ushijima gets this little furrow between his eyebrows. “Hm,” he mutters. 

Yui doesn’t know what to make of that. “What?” She asks.

The volleyball player looks at her for a long moment. “Tendou talks about you often,” he says at last. 

She nods, though she isn’t sure why he’s pointing it out. “He’s told me a lot about you as well,” Yui agrees. “I’ve never watched your team play, yet I know all of your names.”

“Hm,” Ushijima says again, still inscrutable. “I think he must really like you. And Tendou is my best friend. So he must want us to get along.”

“Yeah… oh, so that’s what you meant,” Yui realizes. “About the chat group. I guess we might keep seeing each other because of Tendou, so I suppose we’ll stay in touch. My contact info is there, you can save it from the group message.” 

That also means the group chat name will become a persistent conflict until they can compromise… Yui is no wordsmith, but anything is better than ‘superstars + satori’.

“Yes, I think so,” Ushijima says thoughtfully, looking at the screen of his phone. 

“You’ll have to back me up, then, when I change the group name,” Yui reminds him. Her phone buzzes as she says this, another alert from the messaging app. 

tendou s: LAME NAME LAME NAME

tendou s has changed the group name to ‘ten-ushi-one’

“That one isn’t too bad,” Ushijima says, cocking his head to the side. “It’s… hard to pronounce, though.”

aone y has changed the group name to ‘saturday health store’

tendou s: c+ for creativity, goalie girl

tendou s has changed the group name to ‘my blessed angels, too holy for this planet, don’t fly off too soon’

ushijima w: is that a haiku?

tendou s: yes!! 😇🤡😇

aone y: poetic way to say we’re dying

tendou s: WHAT OMG 😱 💔 😩

tendou s: crap crap ur not wrong 😅😅 whoopsie

ushijima w: a+ for effort

tendou s: thank you waka 🥺

ushijima w has changed the group name to ‘trip’

tendou s: ashfkwkgjflgjwifkth

“Oh, I’ve upset him,” Ushijima murmurs to himself. “I just didn’t want the death haiku as the chat name.”

“He’ll forgive you,” Yui assures him.

The bus approaches, ending the conversation prematurely. Yui can see Tendou in the window, waving at them energetically.

“‘Saturday store’?” is the first thing Tendou says as they board the bus, sounding unduly outraged. “Is that all I am to you, Yui-kun? And Wakatoshi-kun! Just ‘trip’?”

“It’s accurate,” Yui argues. Ushijima nods solemnly. “And also not a weird haiku about our inevitable deaths.”

"I didn't mean it like that!" Tendou groans dramatically, plopping back into his seat and sprawling over the chair. The bus is pretty empty, so Yui doesn’t tell him off for taking up too much space. All of them are on the taller side, and there’s enough room for each of them to take seats adjacent to one another and stretch their legs into the aisle as long as no one’s walking through. 

“Good morning, Tendou,” Ushijima says to the redhead’s prone form. 

Tendou huffs, but replies with a reasonable, “Good morning, Wakatoshi-kun.” He pulls himself upright, already drumming his fingers along the top of the seats. “You two look nice.”

“Thank you,” Ushijima says. 

Yui doesn’t really think mismatched workout clothes count as nice outfits, but she appreciates the compliment. “You look nice too, Tendou.”

“Thank youuu,” Tendou draws out the words with a huge grin, adjusting his collared shirt. Yui is only kind of lying. He has a lime green and black animal print button down shirt over a magenta and red tie-dye t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and orange socks with white sneakers. Admittedly, though, he dresses with absolute confidence. She can’t imagine Tendou wearing anything plain, or it wouldn’t be Tendou anymore.

Still. One day, Yui will coax him into wearing something flattering that actually matches...

“Aone-san,” Ushijima speaks up after a moment. His eyes are focused downward. “Your knee. Are you injured?”

Yui finds herself touching her leg unconsciously, both students taking a look at her knee now. “No, it’s just a precaution,” she explains quietly, stretching out her leg and tugging the flexible knee brace down. Beneath it is a short, straight line of scar tissue. “I had a minor ACL tear.”

She isn’t very self-conscious about how it looks. It’s a knee, it was never pretty to begin with. 

However, upon her moving the brace, Ushijima shifts forward and stares at her leg like he’s never seen one before. The bus drives over a bump in the road, and he puts a hand on her thigh to keep her leg steady, inspecting her knee. 

“Uh,” Yui blinks. “I know it’s not very pleasant to look at…” Very gently, she tries to pull her knee away.

“It isn’t unpleasant,” Ushijima disagrees, not moving. “It’s just a scar.”

She looks at Tendou for guidance, but he’s no help. He’s not even looking at the scar in particular, just... her legs. Yui tends to wear dark leggings with her school uniform, but her bare legs aren’t any more interesting than her surgery scar. Since when did Tendou ever pay attention to legs, anyway? If anything, Ushijima's legs were nicer than hers. 

When she finally catches Tendou's, he just raises an eyebrow. “Wakatoshi-kun, why don’t you give her some space?” He suggests, taking pity on her.

Yui gives him a grateful look.  

Tendou winks. “Look, but don’t touch the goods, y’know?”

I hate you, Yui thinks.

“Oh,” Ushijima says quietly, releasing her. “I apologize.”

“It’s okay,” Yui says, trying to sound unaffected. She knows she’s failing. He sounds so polite, he probably has no idea what Yui or Tendou are thinking of. “Like you said. I-It’s just a scar now.” 

“My father had ACL surgery too,” He explains, continuing on as if Yui wasn’t red as a tomato. “The scar looks different from yours, but it also happened many years ago.”

“The recovery varies,” Yui agrees, not meeting Ushijima’s eyes but focusing on his words. Clearly his whole fascination with her leg was innocent, of course it was, it’s about the injury and his father’s similar experience. “For me, this wasn’t too serious. My leg healed quickly.”

“Yui-kun was on crutches last semester for a while,” Tendou comments lightly, leaning his chin on one fist and dissipating the heavy atmosphere with a pout. “She wouldn’t even let me carry her books, though, she’s that stubborn.”

“You just wanted an excuse to be late for all your classes,” Yui points out, sinking down a little. Now that she thinks of it, Tendou hadn’t only tried to carry her books; he’d offered to princess-carry her around school as well. But that’d been a joke. Right?

Yui pointedly ignores both of them, carefully sliding her knee brace back into place. She covers up her scar and covers up any errant thoughts about volleyball players she might have, too. She and Tendou have known each other for years now, Yui would have noticed if he wanted to be more than friends. And Ushijima was notorious for his love affair with volleyball, he’s not interested in dating in high school at all. She’s being ridiculous.

When Yui risks a glance at them again, Ushijima is giving Tendou a strange look. “...Oikawa-san also wears a knee brace, doesn’t he?”

The middle blocker flops into his seat, boneless. “First of all, no, I know what you’re thinking and Oikawa never tore his ACL. We would’ve heard about it by now. Second of all, Wakatoshi-kun, my miracle boy, you need to let him go.”

Yui stays quiet. It’s difficult to tell if this is about a volleyball player or a volleyball player that’s also Ushijima’s ex-boyfriend. She’s just happy the conversation has moved on from her legs.

“I don’t know what you mean by that,” Ushijima says frankly. “Oikawa is an excellent setter,” he explains to Yui, “And he’d climb to even greater heights if he’d come to Shiratorizawa to be on my team.”

“...I see,” Yui murmurs. She’s never met Oikawa before, so there isn't much to say.

“Only problem is he hates Wakatoshi-kun’s guts and will never set for him,” Tendou pipes up. “He’s the one that got away,” he says wistfully, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she tells Ushijima tentatively. “But isn’t it better to focus on what you do have rather than what you don’t?”

Ushijima considers this, looking directly at Tendou. He’s not a very expressive person, but Tendou beams in response, winking, and it brings a small, gentle smile to Ushijima’s face. “I suppose you’re right.”

Huh. People at school describe Ushijima as aloof and unapproachable, but Yui can see that he’s exactly the person Tendou had always described and admired: reserved, but very genuine. Tendou and Ushijima are a strange pair, practically opposites in personality, but it’s like they’re meant for each other. 

Tendou hangs his head out into the aisle, eyeing Yui now. “Now then, Yui-kun. When’s your next game? Home or away?”

“Next Wednesday,” Yui answers. “It’s a home game against Date Tech.”

From the way Tendou wiggles his eyebrows, he hasn’t forgotten what Yui’s told him about that particular high school. “Dateko? That Dateko? Iron Wall school?” He asks meaningfully. 

“I think the ‘iron wall’ only applies to their volleyball team,” Ushijima points out, oblivious to the underlying question Tendou asks.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Tendou says slyly. “Wakatoshi-kun, you heard about their new starter, ne? A big ol’ middle blocker, almost 2 meters tall?”

“No,” Ushijima blinks at him. “That doesn’t matter. We can still beat them.”

Tendou waves his hand at Ushijima like he’s trying to shoo away the spiker’s intense aura. “Yes, yes, of course we will—but the blocker! That’s Yui-kun’s baby brother!”

Yui rolls her eyes. Her ‘baby brother’ outgrew her in elementary school. 

“I see,” Ushijima says, giving Yui a pensive look. “I didn’t know you had siblings.”

“It’s just me and Takanobu,” she confirms. “He’s a year younger than me. We’ve always been close.” 

“Is he coming to your game?” Tendou looks back at Yui eagerly. “I wanna meet him!”

Yui hesitates. Tendou, as much as Yui likes him, doesn’t always mean well. And she can’t tell if it’s a good idea or not to let him meet Taka. 

Her brother is shy on most days, and slow to warm up to new people. She’s already certain he’ll be too embarrassed to introduce himself to her teammates, so adding Tendou to the mix probably won’t help. And she’d hate to find out that he doesn’t get along with her school friends.

“I’m sure you have practice on Wednesday,” Yui tells him dismissively. Tendou has never shown any interest in watching a soccer match before, and if all he’s going to do is bother Takanobu, she doesn’t want either of them in the stands.

“But it’s right outside the gym!” Tendou protests, waving both hands around. “I can watch a little bit. I’ll be on my best behavior for baby Aone, too. Don’t rat me out, Wakatoshi-kun,” he says belatedly. Yui could have told him it was a bad idea to talk about skipping practice in front of his own captain. 

Ushijima does look a little offended, in fact. “Tendou, you can’t skip practice, not even for Aone-san. However, we only have mandatory skill training next Wednesday, so we finish earlier than usual.”

Tendou flings an arm around Ushijima’s shoulders. “Then it’s settled. We’ll both get to watch you play!”

Yui waits for Ushijima to correct him. Surely he’d stay longer in the gym for extra practice, everyone knows that the volleyball team practices run late every day. And since when did Ushijima watch soccer, anyway? But no, the two of them just look at Yui expectantly. 

Yui pulls her gaze away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She feels heat spread across her face, and convinces herself it’s from the sun streaming through the windows. “If it’s a good match, you’ll be watching me stand around doing nothing for ninety minutes,” she says stiffly. 

“Eh?? Yui-kun, Yui-kun, you’d make a terrible saleswoman. ‘If we’re lucky, it’ll be very boring’, that’s what you’re saying!” Tendou accuses, his long legs bumping into both Ushijima and Yui, somehow, as he talks. 

“I never said that,” Yui disagrees, arms crossed. “I wouldn’t play if it were boring.” The bus begins to slow down as they approach their stop. Yui finds the floor more and more interesting to watch. 

“Then why the sour face? It’s like you don’t want us to go,” Tendou points out, getting to his feet first and looming over her. Ushijima stands as well, but stays back from the staring match Tendou has initiated.

Yui pushes herself out of her seat, rising to meet his height. To her dismay, Yui realizes that she’s a bit shorter than Tendou. When they first started at Shiratorizawa, Yui had definitely been taller than him.

“You’ve never asked to watch my games before,” Yui says at last, pulling away from him. “What’s changed, Tendou? If it’s because Taka is going, that’s a poor reason.” She exits the bus after Ushijima. 

Ushijima is also taller than her. Somehow, she hadn’t noticed it until now. That makes her the shortest of all three of them. She can’t remember the last time that’s happened. Next time, Yui thinks she’ll wear different casual clothes, something less sporty that matches with her treasured, singular pair of brown heeled boots. Tendou would get a kick out of it, she’s certain. 

Well, that presumes there’s another trip… 

“Alright, tell it to me straight,” Tendou declares, spinning on his heel to face Yui. His red eyes are wide and daring. “If you don’t want me at your game, I won’t go.”

Yui startles at his frankness. Maybe she’s overthinking this whole thing, which isn’t like her. “Don’t ever say that, Tendou. Of course I want you there,” she says, directly as possible. 

Tendou blinks at her owlishly. Yui doesn’t want any confusion between them. It took so long to become friends with Tendou in the first place, she wouldn’t spoil it through a simple misunderstanding. 

“I just worry for Taka sometimes,” Yui admits. Lately, her brother has been very competitive in volleyball, in order to become a starter on his team. “It’s nice that you want to meet him, but it’s hard to explain.”

Tendou gives her a toothy grin, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I get it, I get it. No scaring baby Aone. You have my word, Yui. I’ll be there on Wednesday for you and you alone.”

Yui wishes her game would come sooner. She also, paradoxically, wants to disappear altogether.

“I’ll go too,” Ushijima comments, looking between them. “But it’s also for that first year, um.” He frowns, trying to recall her name. “The orange one. Goshiki’s… Natsu. She talks about soccer a lot.”

“Natsu would love it,” Yui confirms, intrigued by the way Ushijima phrased it. Goshiki’s Natsu, huh? It’s a good thing Yamane didn’t hear that one. “Hinata is one of our best new players. Rumi wants her on the field, but they disagree on what position she should play.” 

“I heard her whining about that to Taichi,” Tendou pipes up. He picks a direction and the two of them follow the redhead, assuming he knows where the store is. “She’s on defense, right?”

“A wingback,” Yui murmurs. “Hinata doesn’t realize how valuable she is. I think she could take up almost any position and excel at it. It’s unusual.”

"Not you, though, huh Yui-kun?" Tendou points out, grinning. "No one can replace you."

"Of course not, I'm the keeper." Her position was unique from the rest of the team. Hirao Chika, the first year goalie, was good, but nowhere near ready to take Yui's place. "The game is over without me." Tendou hums in agreement. 

She scans the street, spotting a large green sign that looks like the store Tendou had described. “Tendou, is that the place?”

“Ah! Yes it is~” Tendou sings, swaying on the spot. “You can shop for ultra-healthy protein powders to your heart’s content!”

He starts humming a tune, trying out verses to make a song about health food. Yui has never minded his singing, and when he actually completes a song it’s kind of nice. More importantly, though, Tendou loves to sing. Yui can’t bring herself to shush him. 

Ushijima is unbothered as well; his attention has strayed to the small playground they’re about to pass, teeming with preschoolers and fretting mothers. They’re so small; Yui can hardly remember being so little. Ushijima looks fascinated. Maybe he’s thinking like Yui and wondering how humans can function with such tiny hands and feet.

There’s a small gate meant to fence in the kids, but with a sharp squeal from an especially vocal boy, Yui watches a rubber ball sail out of the play area and into the street.

Without missing a beat, she takes two quick steps forward—and two small children smack into her, blocked by her long legs. 

Satori pauses with Wakatoshi. Yui simply stands there, peering down at the boy and girl. “Go back,” she says simply, pointing to the play area. He can’t help but watch Yui tower over the kids like a marble statue, tall and imposing. If he were that young, staring up at Yui, he’d be convinced she was some sort of Greek goddess. Oh, who’s he kidding? He already thinks that, and they’re the same age.

Belatedly, a mother rushes over, calling for the kids. The girl startles, and scurries back onto the playground without protest. The taller boy looks shaken, but suddenly chooses to hold his ground. 

“I need to get my ball!” He stamps his foot, scowling up at Yui.

Yui nods solemnly. “I’ll get it for you, it’s in the street.”

“No!” the boy shouts, trying to move around her. “it’s MY ball. Why do YOU get it, old lady?!”

Satori swiftly turns his head away and into Wakatoshi’s shoulder to cackle. Old lady. Oh, he loves this. 

“Shinji!” The boy’s mother snaps. “Don’t be rude! Get back here!”

Yui is unfazed, luckily. Poor Wakatoshi looks more out of depth than ever. There’s a few kids pointing at them and discussing their heights now that they’ve noticed the high schoolers. Satori pulls a funny face, and several of the little girls shriek at being caught. He gives Wakatoshi bunny ears, and a few of the boys begin to laugh. 

Yui is still having a stare-down with a five year old. Satori itches for his phone, wanting to livestream this or something, it’s so funny. “I’m allowed to cross the street because I’m an adult. I have my friends here to watch out for me, too. Stay here, please.”

Shinji’s mother wrangles him back onto the sidewalk, and Yui goes into the street to retrieve the ball. She looks both ways exaggeratedly, for the boy’s benefit, and upon finding the ball, kicks it up into her hands with a flick of her foot. There’s an audible gasp from little Shinji. 

“Show off,” Satori teases once she returns. Yui gives him a confused look, but he doesn’t have to explain.

“How’d you do that?” the little boy demands, snatching the ball from Yui. He immediately puts it on the ground and tries to flick it up like she did, only to send it flying into the swing set. “How’d you do that trick with the ball, nee-san?” He asks again. “I wanna do that!”

“Now she’s nee-san,” Satori mutters to Wakatoshi with a shake of his head. “Kids these days!”

“I’m Aone Yui,” she corrects the boy. “I learned a lot of tricks by playing soccer,” Yui tells him softly, rising to her full height and returning to Satori’s side. The look on her face is gentle, though she doesn’t smile. Shinji mouths the word ‘soccer’ a few times, like his whole life’s just been altered. Satori can see a future full of grass stains and muddy shoes for that kid and his poor mother.

“Ignore Yui-kun. You’ll be cooler if you play volleyball,” Satori can’t help but add, and then Yui makes an affronted noise and begins to push him away from the playground. “It’s way more fun.”

Little Shinji gets in one more dig, though, when he scowls at Satori. “No way! Volleyball is for GIRLS!”

Wakatoshi abruptly stops walking, turning around to contest the boy. “It is not.”

“Is too!” The boy squeaks. 

“Is not.”

Yui snorts, ducking her head as she moves Wakatoshi away too, pushing firmly on his back. There’s a fresh splash of pink across her face now, a pretty color to match with her silvery-blond hair and peachy skin. “He doesn’t know any better, Ushijima-kun.”

“That’s contradictory, she plays soccer and we play volleyball,” Wakatoshi intones, deadly serious. Satori pats him on the back in consolation, muttering a ‘don’t mind’ to the ace. 

Wakatoshi reluctantly turns away from the playground, letting Yui lead them down the street. “You’re very good with kids, Aone-san.”

Yui takes a deep breath, letting go of them both and running her fingers through the pale strands of hair around her face. “They remind me of my teammates. Yesterday, Ariyoshi chased after a stray ball into the woods and came back with scratches all over herself. She’d gone through a raspberry bush to get it. And I know it was a raspberry bush, because she complained that they weren’t as ripe as she thought.” Yui pinches the bridge of her nose. "She ate them to check. Berries, off a random bush in the woods..." 

Satori doesn’t try to stifle his laughter this time. “Yui-kun, you have it tough this year, don’t you?”

“I’m co-parenting twenty-two children with Rumi Utsugi,” Yui remarks, a smile gracing her face. “Being in charge is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

Wakatoshi gives Yui a long look, a moment of solidarity passing between them, and then they both glance at Satori with mirrored expressions of amusement.

“Shut up,” Satori says instantly, his jaw dropping. “I’m not a child.”

“We didn’t say anything,” Wakatoshi murmurs, eyebrows raised in humor. In fact, both of them are laughing at him with their eyes. Satori can tell. 

He doesn’t mind. They’re both so cute, with Yui biting her lip not to grin and Wakatoshi exhaling in a little huff of Ushiwaka-brand laughter. And they’re both so cool, even if they don’t see it. Superstars of their discipline. Satori is just glad he’s along for the ride, basking in their light for as long as he can. 

“Tendou,” Yui says suddenly, her steel grey eyes settled on him. 

“Hm?”

She’s holding the door open. Wakatoshi is already two steps inside the store, looking back at him calmly. Satori grins.

“How chivalrous, Yui-kun,” he croons to her as he follows Wakatoshi inside. Yui rolls her eyes, trailing behind him. 

They don’t actually spend much time in the store. Wakatoshi browses a few aisles and picks out a brand of protein bars he’s familiar with, but with a different flavor he’s never tried. The clerk tells him it’s a good flavor, and the ingredient list looks fine to him. Tendou flits from aisle to aisle, keeping up a running dialogue on everything from shoe insoles to banana-flavored gel packs. Aone buys vitamin supplements and some kind of granola that Utsugi asked her for, and spends the rest of her time admiring the leafy green spider plants that cover almost the entire storefront window.  

“Why are you taking a picture?” Wakatoshi asks her, after finally coming to a decision on the protein bars and purchasing a pack. Tendou is still browsing the aisles. She has her phone held out in front of the spider plants. Granted, they’re very healthy houseplants, hanging from the ceiling and stretching beyond their pots with several smaller plantlets, but not interesting enough to warrant a photo in Wakatoshi’s opinion.

She shrugs. “I was going to ask Ikejiri what kind of plants those are,” Aone replies quietly. The way she talks is soft and muted, very unlike anyone Wakatoshi knows. “They look nice.”

“They’re spider plants,” Wakatoshi tells her; he’s sure he recognizes this species, with spindly green leaves and bright yellow stripes. “They’re easy to grow. You could just take one of the babies.”

Aone looks confused. “The… babies?”

“The plantlets, the spiderettes,” he clarifies, pointing to the tiny bundles of spindly leaves sticking out of the pots. Wakatoshi isn’t an expert on plants, but he has a few in his dorm, and in the process of finding good indoor plants, he’d read about this common type of houseplant. “You just cut it from the main plant.”

“They’re… called spiderettes?” Yui asks. Her eyes are round and shiny all of a sudden, like 100-yen coins. 

Wakatoshi nods, a little uncertain. She doesn't really look happy, and he’s been trying his best to not mess up this trip for Tendou... 

Aone looks away from him, pressing a hand over her mouth. “That’s really cute,” she confesses softly. “I wonder where I can get one?”

“You could just take this one,” Wakatoshi suggests, privately relieved she’s not upset or anything. He always has trouble reading the room with new people, and Aone Yui is no exception. But this is something he’s familiar with; horticulture is a low-effort hobby, all things considered. “Just clip it off,” he explains, “You just need a pot with soil...”

“What do you mean?” Aone interrupts, eyebrows raised. “I can’t just take it, Ushijima-kun. That would be stealing.”

“What’s this about stealing?” Tendou pops up from behind Wakatoshi, throwing an arm over his shoulders and pressing himself against his side. “Is Wakatoshi-kun telling you to commit crimes? You know I will, Waka.”

“No. It’s not stealing,” Wakatoshi reiterates, glancing at Aone. “I mean that you could just take the baby. No one would stop you.” 

“Hah?!” Tendou hoots. 

Aone looks at him for a moment, her eyes wide again. “Oh, Ushijima… ” she says in a hushed, warm tone. Wakatoshi isn’t sure why she’s looking at him, or talking like that. “That’s, um…”

“We’re stealing a baby?” Tendou exclaims, leaping between them excitedly. “Okay! I’m only a month away from getting my license, I can be the getaway driver.”

Oh. He said ‘baby’ instead of ‘spiderette’. Now Wakatoshi feels a little silly for liking the way Yui said his name.

“Th-that’s not… I mean… Tendou, you agreed way too quickly.” Aone puts a hand over her mouth again, her shoulders shaking with laughter. Her expression is still warm, though, when she looks at the two of them. 

The guess blocker beams, leaning into her space and giving her silver hair a light tug. “Anytime, Yui, anytime.”

“We’re talking about the spider plant,” Wakatoshi explains, eyeing Tendou curiously. “Would you really steal a human baby?” He wonders. 

“Only if you and Yui were asking,” Tendou laughs, but Wakatoshi gets the impression he’s speaking honestly. “I'd trust your judgement if you were both really determined about it!”

Well, Wakatoshi supposes that makes sense. He would not steal a baby unless the situation was truly dire. Not that Wakatoshi thinks he could be of any help to a baby. Yui, on the other hand, could probably save a baby. She seems very trustworthy, and they already saw how good she was with little kids. 

Wakatoshi decides he would also probably help Yui steal a baby if she asked, since Satori was so willing.

“I’m not stealing any babies or plants,” Aone huffs, flicking her braid over her shoulder. “Besides, I don’t have the supplies for it.”

“Of course you don’t,” Tendou nods, wiggling his eyebrows. He has a very expressive face, Wakatoshi has always liked that about Tendou.“My mom says that babies need a ton of stuff, they’re very expensive! Though in hindsight, I think she was just threatening me not to make her a grandmother too soon.”

Wakatoshi can relate. His mother gave him an embarrassingly thorough lecture on adult relationships when he entered junior high… 

“I meant the plant, Tendou.” Aone says, cheeks glowing pink. “I don’t have a pot or any soil for it.”

“Is that the only reason you won’t take it?” Wakatoshi asks. “You can ask the owner for permission, of course, but if no one takes the spiderettes off, they’ll just die.”

“They’ll die?” Aone echoes, troubled. Maybe he should use different words. Wakatoshi gets the feeling Aone takes the well-being of plants very seriously.

“So this is a baby-saving mission after all!” Tendou declares with a flourish, rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain. “No worries, Yui! I have extra potting soil and stuff at home, Mama Tendou loves her gardening. Let’s save the spider babies!”

“Spiderettes,” Wakatoshi corrects him. He isn’t surprised when Tendou just flaps his hand, a familiar nonverbal response from the redhead. 

“I can’t take them all, there must be at least ten on each pot,” Aone says, casting a worried look towards the plants. “And I’m not very good with plants, what if they just die anyway?”

“They’re easy to care for,” Wakatoshi promises. “And if there’s a problem, just ask for help.” He eyes Tendou suspiciously. “Ask me for help, not Tendou.... He killed my mammillaria cactus last summer.”

The mammillaria hahniana cactus, also called the old lady cactus, was one of the easiest plants to look after. They were a hardy species after all, meant to survive in extreme weather. It still stunned Wakatoshi that Satori could be careless enough to kill it, especially when he had also successfully kept two snake plants alive last year while Wakatoshi was in the capital for a youth training camp.

“I was framed,” Tendou chirps, sending Wakatoshi an apologetic look. “You should see Wakatoshi and Reon’s dorm. It’s a jungle. Reon staged an accident for Old Lady Nakada.”

“Reon wouldn’t do that,” Wakatoshi insists automatically. This is an old argument between them. Ohira wouldn’t plan something so elaborate. He liked Wakatoshi's plants, and if there was a problem he would've spoken up.

“That cactus punctured a volleyball and he never got over it,” Tendou crows. “I can't believe you still blame me instead of the real culprit. What’s even my motive? I like your plants, I named that cactus!” 

Before Wakatoshi can refute this, Tendou continues. “But anyway! Ojisan!” He spins on his heel and waves at the elderly man at the front desk. “Your bug plants have little baby plants! Can we take some off your hands, sir?”

“Hah? Y’mean those damn spider plants?” The owner squints at them. “Take all you want, kid, those things grow like crazy. Just quit loitering in my shop!”

"Alright!" Tendou whoops. 

Aone and Wakatoshi thank the shop owner profusely, and take three clippings. The elderly man is cranky about it at first, until Aone walks over to speak with him. She naturally speaks in a soft, polite tone, and the owner seems much more malleable after hearing her compared to Tendou. She returns with three plastic cups filled with water to hold each of the spiderettes, looking pleased.

They get lucky with the timing; within minutes of walking out of the health store, there’s a bus scheduled to arrive on the street, and the three of them climb aboard, each with a plant clipping in hand. 

“You’ve got time to come over to my house, right Yui-kun?” Tendou asks, looking at her hopefully. “If you don’t I’ll just bring ‘em in on Monday.”

“You don’t have to do that, I can stop by,” Aone says quietly. “Are you coming, Ushijima-kun?”

And herein lies the dilemma for Wakatoshi. 

Tendou is undoubtedly in love with this girl. Wakatoshi doesn’t know much about love, but all the signs point to it. He’s never heard Tendou talk about anyone as much as he talks about Aone Yui. They’ve been friends for ages, but rarely got the time to hang out outside of school because Tendou lived off-campus while Aone stayed in the dorms. Tendou remembers things about Aone, like her class schedule and her favorite drinks, which he hardly ever does. The only time Satori has ever said something negative about Aone was when she’d been doing poorly in Japanese Lit after losing in Nationals. 

Tendou Satori adores Aone Yui. It’s basically a fact.

So this is the perfect time for him to decline an invitation so that his best and closest friend has some time alone with Aone. She’s a good person, Tendou would be very happy with her. He wants Tendou to be happy.

But the last thing Wakatoshi wants to do is leave. 

After meeting Aone Yui himself… he’s having fun on this trip. He likes hanging out with them. Yui and Satori and Wakatoshi. It was different from spending time with his teammates, but still familiar and relaxed. Tendou is having a grand time, Aone is very sweet, and Wakatoshi doesn’t want to go back to his dorm just yet. He doesn’t even have homework or practice today, because he jogged this morning. 

And Tendou never explicitly said he wanted to hang out with Aone alone. This was supposed to be a trip to make sure his closest friends could get along with each other. So Wakatoshi wouldn’t be doing anything wrong by staying… 

“Of course he’s coming,” Satori answers first, elbowing the taller boy. “He’ll have to help carry your new babies back to the dorms.”

“Spiderettes,” Ushijima and Aone correct him simultaneously. 

Satori responds with a wide grin. “Right, right…” Oh, god, they’re so cute. Satori has to look away from the two of them, or he might blurt out something embarrassing. He pushes away those thoughts for now, instead defaulting to his favorite subject—manga.  

The remainder of the drive is filled up by Tendou recounting the major plot points from the mangas he’s reading in Shounen Jump. Aone sits back with her head resting on one arm, content to watch as he acts out comic panels and gestures wildly from his seat. Ushijima watches as well, but looks away frequently to examine the leafy plantlets cradled in his hands. It’s mostly Tendou carrying the conversation, but all three of them are content nonetheless.

It's everything he'd hoped for. 

Operation Superstars + Satori is a success. 

Chapter Text

“It’s this week, right?”

“There’s a game every week, Shouyou, but yes.”

“Wednesday at 4pm?”

“Yes, I told you yesterday—do you remember what field?”

Shouyou stalls in the doorway, his shoes halfway tied. “I’m sure I’ll find it.” How hard could it be to find a group of girls in purple jerseys? Natsu was super easy to spot in a crowd, not many people had hair like a Hinata.

Natsu tosses his jacket at his head. “It’s field six, okay? By the horse stables—“

“There’s horses?! Wait, no, I knew that. Are they nice horses? Can I pet them?”

“Maybe another time,” Natsu chuckles. “I’ll ask Ideguchi about it.”

“Who’s that?”

“He plays soccer.”

“Shocking.”

“Shut up. He also takes care of the horses.”

Shouyou yanks on his jacket, following his sister through the front door. They’re both taking bicycles to school today, and for once, the stars (and their schedules) have aligned: he doesn’t have mandatory practice on Wednesday afternoon, and he can finally watch a Shiratorizawa soccer game! 

“Uwaahhh! I’m so excited for you, Nacchan,” Shouyou snags her around the neck to muss up her hair. “You’re gonna do great!”

“Even as a wing-back?” Natsu huffs, prying herself out of his arms. She’s a bit crabby in the morning. 

“Don’t talk like that!” Shouyou admonishes her. “You’re a starter! Show ‘em you deserve to be on the field!”

Natsu smiles, pulling out her bike. “I’ll do my…” she yawns, “my… best.”

Shouyou snickers when she steers her bike into a bush. “Are you sure you’re awake enough for this? What if you fall asleep mid-ride?”

“Then I die….” She croaks, her voice still a little raspy from sleep. “Better than being swindled by the rising bus fare.”

He coughs. “...Nacchan, could ya lighten up a little?” 

Natsu waves off his concern with a snort, trying to fix the bobby pins in her hair. Shouyou watches for a moment, and swears the little metal thing just vanishes into thin air. And Natsu’s hair looks exactly the same, so he has no idea what she’s accomplished by using those clip things. “Only if they lighten up on the cost of public transit.”

“Don’t die, Nacchan,” Shouyou shakes his head, climbing on his bike. It’s still weird to him, not seeing her in the halls or at lunch at Karasuno, so it’s nice that they can spend the morning together. “What would I do without you?”

“Fail all your English tests,” Natsu quips back, smirking.

He sticks out his tongue, but doesn’t deny it. Natsu’s tutoring is a blessing, though it comes at the cost of her relentless teasing. “Fair enough. See ya, sis!”

Natsu calls back her farewell, and Shouyou takes off for Karasuno, buzzing with excitement. Two days, and then he gets to watch Natsu play on the best soccer team in the prefecture! Ahhh he can’t wait!

Apparently Shouyou is a little more energetic than usual, because when volleyball practice rolls around, Kageyama scowls at him twice as much and Tsukishima is extra annoyed with the ginger decoy. 

“Do you know how to sit still?” Tsukishima demands, glaring down at him. “Or are you like a shark, and you’ll die if you stop moving?”

Shouyou scowls. “I’ve heard that one before. I think you’re the shark, Tsukki, because you’re cold-blooded!” Haha! It took him a while to come up with that comeback after Natsu used that joke on him, but Shouyou’s glad he remembered that weird shark fact. 

The blonde first year sneers, even more ticked off now. 

“Now, now,” Sugawara intervenes, patting Tsukishima on the back. “What’s got you so excited, Hinata? I know we’ve got that training camp coming up, but it isn’t for another few weeks.”

“It’s about Nacchan!” Shouyou explains, or rather, he shouts. Both Kageyama and Tsukishima groan in irritation, but suddenly they’re both paying attention to the ginger menace. Hinata’s ginger twin was still an enigma to Karasuno, but they remembered her fondly for cheering them on at Aoba Johsai. 

“I’m gonna watch her game on Wednesday, she’s on the starting roster and it’s a home game and they’re playing Date Tech and—“

“Shouyou, you have a sister?” Nishinoya interrupts, eyes wide. “I had no idea! What year is she? I’ve never seen her!”

“She’s my twin!” Shouyou exclaims, beaming. “Hinata Natsu!”

“What?? You have a TWIN?” Nishinoya hollers. He spins around to Tanaka. “Ryuu, did you know?!”

(Quietly, off to the side, Asahi asks Daichi for context. Hinata Natsu is apparently the cute girl version of their ginger kouhai.)

“Ahh! You didn’t know!” Tanaka hollers back, grabbing Noya by the shoulders. “Nacchan! She’s adorable! She went to our practice match! She defended our honor as men against that Oikawa guy!”

“I don’t think she was defending our honor, exactly,” Shouyou raises an eyebrow at the hero-worship in Tanaka’s eyes.

“WHAT?!” Noya demands. “I need DETAILS! Why have I never seen this mysterious Nacchan?!”

“She goes to Shiratorizawa Academy,” Kageyama snaps, squeezing a volleyball so tightly between his hands, Shouyou fears he’ll pop it. 

“KAGEYAMA! Why do you look so upset about that?!” Tanaka points an accusatory finger at him. “Are you jealous or something?”

“I—“ Kageyama’s face looks more constipated than usual. “It’s not that, it’s—”

He mutters something under his breath, but Shouyou can’t make it out. “What was that?” 

“I said,” Kageyama grits his teeth, “I applied to that school, but I didn’t pass their entrance exam. Shiratorizawa is a…. really prestigious school.”

Tsukishima bursts into laughter. Kageyama looks up with murder in his eyes.

“Oi! Don’t you laugh at him!” Tanaka pounces on the tall blocker. “You’re here too, you’re no better—“

“I’m not at Karasuno because I failed any exams, though,” Tsukishima retorts, fumbling to keep his glasses on. “This was just the closest school.”

“I wanted to go to this school, you ass,” Kageyama growls. 

“Don’t mind, Kageyama,” Shouyou casts the sour setter a sympathetic look. Honestly, he’s glad Kageyama failed the exam because it allowed them to meet and figure out this awesome quick, but saying that out loud would probably sound selfish. “I didn’t pass either,” Shouyou says instead. “Nacchan is super studious, our mom wouldn’t let her go to the Academy unless she kept up her grades, so she was like—in ultra-study-mode for the whole summer for that test.”

Kageyama’s eyebrows creep up towards his hairline. “You said she plays soccer. She’s not there on a sports scholarship?”

“Oh no, she is,” Shouyou explains, “But she still had to pass the exams for class placement and stuff. And the sports one only covers club fees, she took the test to apply for an academic scholarship too.” Not that it does much besides cover the cost of textbooks, but it was a bonus that made it easier to convince their parents to let Natsu go to such a prestigious school.

Kageyama stares, uncomprehendingly. “Tell me you’re joking, boke.”

“Don’t call me a boke!” Shouyou scowls. “Whaddya mean, huh?!”

The setter glares at him harder. “Are you even related?”

“We’re twins!” Shouyou exclaims, flabbergasted that he has to explain it again. “You met her, of course we’re related!”

“Sure doesn’t seem like it,” Tsukishima mutters, having escaped Tanaka’s wrestling for the moment. “She must’ve absorbed all the intelligence while you were in the womb.”

Shouyou turns to yell at him too, but Yamaguchi speaks first. “Hinata, is your sister some kind of genius?” Yamaguchi wonders. “Getting into a school like that is really impressive. For academics and sports. That’s crazy.”

It didn’t really seem crazy to Shouyou. He and Natsu were always kind of competing in some way or another, and they were each more successful in some ways more than their twin. “I know she’s way better at studying than me,” Shouyou says reluctantly. “Don’t call her a genius, she’s already got a huge ego…”

“Jealous, much?” Tsukishima smirks. 

“No way,” Shouyou shakes his head. “Nacchan works really hard!” 

“Are you saying you don’t work hard?” Kageyama points out.

Shouyou cringes. “Well, not in math class I don’t. God, it’s so boring. And Karasuno doesn’t do big scholarships.” He would never understand math as easily as Natsu anyway. She wasn’t in any super-advanced classes, but she had learned how to manage her time like a pro in middle school. 

“...The uniforms aren’t too bad at Shiratorizawa,” Noya ruminates, rubbing his chin. Tanaka hums in agreement.

Shouyou blinks. 

“Noya-san,” he says lowly, turning to the libero. The atmosphere shifts without warning, sending a chill down each person’s spine. “You… mean the girls’ uniforms? You mean the uniform my innocent baby sister wears? Is that the uniform you’re talking about, Nishinoya?”

Nishinoya Yu has never looked more frightened in his life. Shouyou rarely gets serious about anything other than winning in volleyball, but the look on his face right now silences the whole team. 

(Sitting next to Takeda, the club advisor, is Ukai Keishin. He has not been paying attention to what the teenagers have been talking about in the slightest. “What the hell just happened?”  He mutters under his breath to the teacher.)

Tanaka laughs nervously. “I swear, Hinata, we would never disrespect your sister,” he wheezes.

“Y-Yeah!” Noya agrees loudly, inching towards Asahi for protection. (Though it should be noted that Asahi will give no such shelter, if it came to that). “She sounds amazing a-and smart and like Kiyoko and oh my god I’m sorry please stop giving me that look Shouyou?”

Like a switch, the frigid aura vanishes. “I’m glad to hear that!” Shouyou chirps, grinning again, sunshine personified once more. 

“So, uh,” Sugawara interrupts, fiddling with a water bottle to get rid of his nerves. “What’s the Shiratorizawa campus like? It’s a big school, I hear.”

“Oh, you know, I didn’t really get to see much of it!” Shouyou confesses, scratching his head. “I don’t remember the layout. But it’s really big! There’s a ton of fields, they have horses and tennis courts! Oh! And the volleyball team has two gyms. Two!! I can’t wait to see it myself!” 

“That’s pretty cool,” Yamaguchi murmurs. “My mom works near that school, they gather a lot of crowds for their athletic clubs.”

“You know what you should do, Hinata? You should sneak into the gym, get some insider knowledge of the volleyball team,” Tanaka suggests teasingly. “Might as well take advantage while you’re there.”

“Uwah! Good thinking!!” Noya shouts, tugging on Tanaka’s shirt. “Shouyou, take us with you!”

Shouyou’s eyes widen. “Eh? To spy on their volleyball team?!” He’s actually never thought of doing that. He’s been so invested in rejecting all discussions of Natsu’s volleyball friends, he never considered the possibility of gaining knowledge from them. “Uh… I don’t know how Natsu would feel about that…”

“These idiots…” Tsukishima mutters. 

“Nope. I’m shutting this down right now,” Daich interrupts, stepping between Shouyou and the others with a dangerous look on his face. “Time to start warming up. No spying.”

“Yes sir!” The underclassmen chorus.

Practice starts up, and Daichi doesn’t allow idle chatter among the players anymore. It’s not until the very end of the day, while the volleyball team is cooling down with more stretches, that the subject is revisited. 

“I was only joking,” Tanaka insists, sending Shouyou a furtive look. “If I went, I’d go cheer on your sis too. It’s only fair, after all. It was really nice to have a fan at our first practice match, seriously!”

“I’d cheer her on too!” Noya pipes up. “I swear! It’d be cool to see the campus, but I like soccer! It’s not as fun as volleyball, but still!”

Shouyou perks up. “Hmm… if you come to watch the game, I think that’d be fine. She’d like that a lot, actually.” Their mother works long hours, and their father travels for his job, so it’s really up to Shouyou and Natsu to cheer each other on. “And—sorry Karasuno soccer club, but Natsu’s team is basically the best in Miyagi, so it’s gonna be a good game!”

“You know, maybe we should go,” Tanaka grins, switching positions to stretch his other leg. “Whaddya say, Noya?”

“Let’s do it! I wanna meet Nacchan!”

Yamaguchi watches them curiously. “How will you get there?” he asks innocently.

“Eh?” Tanaka and Nishinoya pause. 

“Shiratorizawa is by the capital, on the other side of the mountain,” the first year continues. 

“EH?!” Tanaka’s eyes bulge. “Hinata, how are you getting to Shiratorizawa?!”

He looks at the second years owlishly. “I’ll bike there.”

Ukai spits out his drink. “You’ll what?!”

Shouyou looks between the players’ faces, which are all in various states of shock and awe. He doesn’t get it. “How else would I get there?!” He exclaims. 

“A bus,” Tsukishima deadpans, “Like a normal person.”

Shouyou shakes his head. “I can’t leave my bike at school. And it’s quicker to bike from here to the Academy, if I bike home and take a bus from my house, I’ll miss most of the game.”

“Hinata… h-how far away do you live?” Asahi asks, concerned. 

“Eh… I think it takes like, thirty minutes to get home?” Shouyou guesses. 

Yamaguchi’s jaw drops. “Hinata…”

“Don’t do it,” Tsukishima hisses all of a sudden. “Shut up Yamaguchi.”

Yamaguchi, for once, ignores his best friend as his caring nature wins out. “...Do you want a ride, Hinata? I… kind of wanted to go too, if that's ok. And my mom could probably drive us all there and back, she’ll be home on Wednesday…”

Shouyou’s mouth falls open in surprise. He leaps to his feet. “YAMAGUCHI! Really?! You’d do that?!”

“I-I mean, yeah,” Yamaguchi stutters, rubbing his cheek. “It sounds interesting…”

“UWAHHH! YAMAGUCHIIIIII!” Nishinoya hollers, pouncing on the freckled first year. Tanaka echoes this sentiment with a hoot.

“Why would to volunteer for torture?” Tsukishima asks mournfully. “I thought you were better than this.”

“Gomen, Tsukki.”

“Natsu! Yamaguchi’s mom said she could drive us all to your game, is that alright?!” Shouyou bursts through the front door, tripping over his shoes as he unlaces them.

She looks up from the kitchen table, a bit distracted by her homework. “That’s fine, anyone can g—“ Shouyou whoops with joy. “—long as you get a pass,” she continues, eyes already glued back to the math worksheet. 

“What’s the Dateko club like?” Shouyou presses, dumping the contents of his backpack onto the table. “They’re another powerhouse school, I hear.”

“Yeah,” Natsu smiles, finishing a question. “Their team was pretty solid last year, but they relied a lot on third years that have all graduated. So we’re not sure how they’ll do.”

“Are you excited? What’s your jersey number?”

“Number 21,” Natsu shrugs. “It’s not special or anything.”

“Sure it is! Because it’s you!” Shouyou shouts.

Sometimes, even Natsu thinks Hinata Shouyou is too bright. 

“I… thanks, Shoucchan,” Natsu murmurs, staring at the grains of wood on the table. 

He leans on the table, surprised. “Are you gonna cry?”

“Shut up,” Natsu means to yell, but it’s more like a squeak, and she immediately puts her head against the table. 

Shouyou chuckles a little, but lets her stay like that for a while to recuperate and pulls out his homework while he waits. Eventually, Natsu emerges, only slightly pink, and begins to lecture him on his poor English grammar.

Edit: i used to have a drawing of one of my OCs posted here but i’ve taken it down for now, kinda want to redraw it!

Chapter Text

Wednesday arrives.

Natsu’s on the starting lineup as the left wing-back, alongside the regular defenders Kunitake Aimi, Takahashi Hana, and Captain Utsugi as sweeper. They’ve added Ariyoshi Saori as a center-back and put Takahashi-san as the right wing-back, making their starting formation a 5-3-2 today. Dateko is known for their defensive abilities and their runs from set pieces, but Sameshima seemed to be cautious with their defense for now, since Natsu and Ariyoshi were both new to the starting roster. 

They’re in their regular jerseys, dark purple with white and lavender accents. It honestly looks terrible on Natsu’s complexion, but whatever. Her hair clashes with everything anyway. 

Dateko’s team has just arrived, a mob of white and teal, and both teams are setting up their equipment to warm up. There’s still a good thirty-five minutes left before kick off. 

“Ugh, I forgot to fill the cooler,” Akari whines, smacking her forehead. “Ike-chan, can you—?”

“I didn’t work my ass off for the past two years to lug around a water cooler as a senior,” Ikejiri cuts her off flatly. “Use the scrubs.”

Akari brightens right up, clasping her hands together. “Y’know, you’re so smart, Ike-chan. Let’s see… hey, Saori-chan?”

Ariyoshi Saori hurls a mesh bag of pinnies at Hirao so hard that it makes an audible thump as it hits the goalie, scattering colorful bibs on the grass. “Who the fuck is in charge of washing these?! They’re disgusting!”

“It wasn’t me!” Hirao cowers.

Akari switches her focus. “Nacchan, I need you!” She trills, smiling widely. 

Natsu jogs over, setting the corner flags on the coach’s bench. “Yes, Kurishima-senpai?”

Akari almost cooes. Natsu’s one of the good kouhais. “Would you mind going back to fill up the cooler? The closest sink is up there, by Gym 4.” She points to the top of the hillside. 

It’s the same hillside Natsu recently caught Semi Eita and his team stripping for reasons unknown, but Akari is unaware of this. “Yeah sure I guess I can do that,” Natsu squeaks all in one breath, grappling with the empty cooler and scuttering off. 

“Aw, I love the energetic ones,” Akari muses, watching the tiny ginger girl become a tiny fluff of orange in the distance. “What a cutie.”

“You’re a sadist,” Ikejiri picks up two of the corner flags to hand them off to the second-years. “Don’t you know how heavy that cooler gets when it’s filled?”

The blonde girl pauses thoughtfully. It seems like Utsugi had already assumed control over the rest of the first years, and Coach Sameshima was going over some formations with the other girls. “I think she can handle it. I have faith in Nacchan.”

“You mean you don't feel like climbing back up that hill to help.”

Akari hums, adjusting her ponytail serenely. “Ike-chan, if I did all the work, how will our kouhai ever learn?”

Ikejiri rolls her eyes and walks away to set up the last two corner flags. “At least I admit I’m a lazy shit.”

Natsu heaves the cooler over the edge of the metal sink, setting it down beneath the spouts. To her right is Gym 4, but judging by the sounds of activity coming from the building, one of the basketball teams is conducting practice inside. 

Thank god it’s not the volleyball team. If Semi saw her here, he’d definitely crack some awful joke about the water cooler she’s filling up. 

Natsu turns on the taps and leans back as the cooler slowly fills. She tilts her head up to the sky and enjoys the breeze. The weather feels perfect today, partly cloudy and dry. There was a chance of rain, but not until sundown. It’s a little too noisy here to enjoy the outdoors entirely from where she stands, though; down by the field she could hear nothing but distant birds and the rustling of trees, but the basketball team’s shouting a bunch of instructions and drill names from inside the gymnasium. 

“Sure it’s over this way? This doesn’t look right.”

“No, no, no, it’s definitely there—hey, that’s a girl...”

“No shit, Sakunami, of course that’s a girl.”

Those aren’t voices coming from the gym. Natsu pulls her gaze away from the clouds and sees four boys in white and teal tracksuits. They’re in the same colors as the opposing team Natsu just saw warming up on the field, Dateko colors. 

But these are not soccer players. 

One of the taller boys, with blonde hair and a dark fringe, smacks the brown-haired boy. “Don’t curse like that, Futakuchi!” He sees Natsu looking at them and waves energetically, suddenly running at her. “Heya! You there! D’you play soccer?!”

And when Natsu says he’s running at her, she means there’s like 190 centimeters running at her. He’s gigantic, Ushijima-sized, and Natsu honestly thinks she might get body-slammed.

“Oi, Kogane, stop—!” One of them snaps, but it’s the taller, stone-faced student that nabs the blonde boy by the scruff of his jacket and holds him in place.

Natsu hears water splashing. She quickly turns off the faucet and pours out the extra water from the cooler before looking back at the Dateko boys.

“You scared the hell out of her,” one of them hisses.

“No, I’m fine,” Natsu interrupts, but she can hear the nervous edge in her own voice. She shakes her head, focusing on the bigger guy that was glaring at his friend. “Are you Takanobu? Aone Takanobu, I mean?” Natsu asks, taking in his short, silvery hair and flat expression. He certainly looks more like her senpai than anyone else she’s ever met. Aone had mentioned Takanobu before, saying he might come to a game or two. 

Takanobu gives a short grunt. Natsu thinks that’s a yes. He bows, and Natsu bows back. 

“Yeah, and I’m Koganegawa!” The blonde boy chirps next, detangling himself from Takanobu’s large hands. He gives her a bright grin, a sharp contrast to Takanobu. “We’re from Date Tech!”

“Futakuchi Kenji,” the brown-haired student introduces himself with a polite smile. 

“Nice to meet you,” Natsu looks at each of them in turn, before settling on the shortest boy. He’s much shorter than Takanobu and the others, just about Natsu’s height, with neatly parted black hair and wide brown eyes.  

He startles a little when she waits for him to introduce himself, and then bends down into an extra-formal bow. “Sa-Sakunami Kosuke! F-first year libero, class three—”

“Jeez, Saku-kun, don’t give her your life story,” Futakuchi gives him a hard smack on the back. “You’re a soccer player, I hope?”

“Yes,” Natsu confirms, tugging on her ugly uniform just a bit before she realizes what she’s doing. “I’m Hinata. Aone-senpai mentioned that her little brother Taka was going to visit,” she explains, looking up (and up, and up) at Takanobu with interest. 

He’s quite stern-looking, even more so than Ushijima. Takanobu was even paler than Yui, and his hair was closer to white than blonde, even his eyelashes and eyebrows were so pale, they were almost translucent. Oh, but she’s staring now. She shouldn’t do that. But she wants to ask him like a billion questions. She shouldn’t do that either. 

“Um,” Natsu pulls her gaze back to Futakuchi and Saku and Ko-something-awa. “That’s our field down there,” she points down the field to where the girls are setting up. “The bleachers on the right side are usually for the home team, and on the left is for away, but it shouldn’t matter where you sit, it’s not crowded,” Natsu assures them.

Goshiki mentioned he would come by after practice, and Shouyou was coming with Yamaguchi. The soccer team also gathered a small audience of passing students, and sometimes the boy’s soccer club as well, but that was all. Natsu thinks Tendou and Kawanishi were also planning on stopping by, but she isn’t sure when. 

“Thanks!!” The blonde boy interjects, speaking over Futakuchi. “You’re really nice, you said your name was Hinata, right?”

“Hinata Natsu,” she repeats fully. “And, I’m sorry, you said you were, um, Konaga...wa?”

“Koganegawa Kanji! I know it’s long, you can just call me Kogane,” he tells her cheerfully. She sees Futakuchi roll his eyes behind him. 

“Okay,” Natsu nods tentatively. “Kogane-san.”

“Um,” Sakunami steps forward, peering at the sink behind her. “Do—do you need help with that cooler?” He asks timidly. 

“Oh, right, I gotta go bring it to the bench!” Natsu turns back to the sink, and the cooler she’s supposed to bring down to the field. As soon as she reaches for the handles, Natsu realizes her dilemma. This thing is much heavier now. And the tub of the sink is deep, so to lift the cooler out she’ll have to hold this thing above her waist—she’s too short to reach it properly.

Natsu looks back at the Dateko students sheepishly. “Yes, please, I need help with this thing,” she admits, exasperated. 

“I could—?“ Sakunami begins to volunteer.

“Nah, leave it to me! I’ll help!” Kogane bounds forward eagerly. “Can’t be that heavy, I’m strong—“

But with a short grunt, Aone Takanobu brushes past them both and scoops up the cooler like it’s an empty water bottle. Some water splashes from the top.

“Wait, wait, wait, get down here,” Natsu zips over to his side, ushering Aone into crouching over. “I don’t want it to spill on you, that happened to Iwabuchi last week—“ Quickly, she screws the lid on securely. 

Aone grunt, frozen in place until she finishes. Then he grabs both handles and lifts the cooler again like it’s nothing.

Natsu stares at him in awe. “Whoa!” She cheers, taking a step back to see him properly. “Thanks, Taka—Aone-kun!”

He grunts again, and Natsu ushers them all down the hill and towards the field. His face looks a little pink, but he seems to be avoiding her gaze so she can’t tell. Behind her, Futakuchi stifles his laughter at the betrayed looks on the first years’ faces, muttering them a teasing ‘don’t mind’. 

“Oh, I gotta ask,” Natsu says suddenly, spinning around to face the visiting students. “Are you rooting for us or Dateko?”

“For you, Hinata!” Kogane exclaims immediately. “Totally! I don’t know anything about soccer, though.”

Privately, Natsu wonders why he’s here. Just to hang out with Takanobu? They didn’t seem that close.

“I know two of the Dateko players from class,” Sakunami explains earnestly, eye to eye with Natsu. It was nice to talk to someone without ending up with a crick in her neck. “I’m not rooting for either team, I guess? I can’t choose.” 

“And I’m here to make sure these three don’t get in trouble,” Futakuchi smiles placidly as Kogane and Sakunami glare at him. “I’ve met Yui-nee-san before, though. Who’d pass up a chance to see her again?”

“I see,” Natsu murmurs. 

Natsu suspects, by his tone, that he isn’t talking about her talent on the soccer field, but doesn’t call him out on it. They reach the coach’s bench just as most of Natsu’s teammates break off for warm up drills, so it’s only Utsugi and Coach Sameshima that notices them at first.

Surprisingly, Utsugi doesn’t scowl. She just peers up at Takanobu neutrally as he places the cooler on the bench. 

“Taka,” she says plainly, hands on her hips. The younger Aone looks down at her stiffly. “I hear you play volleyball now. That’s a shame, you’d make an excellent goalkeeper,” she says chidingly, but with a lightness you’d use to scold a young child. “It’s never too late to switch sports.”

Takanobu makes an audible sigh in response, his gaze averted.

Natsu is mystified. Rumi had a sense of humor? She has a soft spot for Aone Takanobu, of all people? She’ll have to exchange notes with Yunohama after this game. 

Futakuchi makes a strangled noise. “Taka,” he repeats in amazement. Aone glares at the brown-haired boy. “You let girls call you Taka?” 

It draws Utsugi’s attention to the three other Dateko students, who freeze upon meeting Captain Utsugi’s sharp eyes. “Hey, where are your visitor’s passes?”

Natsu gasps, looking at the boys again. She hadn’t noticed.

“Our what-now?” Futakuchi asks, caught off-guard. “We need passes?”

Natsu glances at Takanobu again, and imagines the school security filing out and surrounding Aone-senpai’s giant little brother, demanding what business a grown man has on a high school campus. She looks at Utsugi urgently. “Captain—?”

“Go,” Utsugi replies, rolling her eyes. “All of you, follow Hinata and do as she says. If we get scolded for having trespassers at my game, there will be consequences for all of you.” 

Takanobu pauses to give Utsugi a proper, respectful bow. “Domo,” he says, the first word Natsu has ever heard him speak. She’s not sure if it’s a greeting or an apology, or maybe both.

The captain huffs, almost looking fond, as she returns the gesture. 

Then she glares at Natsu. “Get to it, Hinata. You’re supposed to be warming up already.”

“Right!” Natsu jumps, and hastily begins to urge the boys towards the front building. Futakuchi calls back an apology to Utsugi, but she doesn’t even turn around. 

Thankfully, the Dateko students seem to catch onto her urgency and follow Natsu without protest. “Who was that girl?” Futakuchi asks, looking over his shoulder at the field.

“That’s Captain Utsugi,” Natsu replies. “She’s our sweeper, she’s friends with Takanobu’s sister.” Takanobu just grumbles positively, agreeing with her.

“Sweeper? What’s that?” Kogane wonders. “Not like, with a broom, right?”

“No!” Sakunami hisses, sending Kogane an outraged look. “A sweeper is a type of defender! Like, the most important one. The last line before the goalie.”

“That’s right,” Natsu grins, pleased that at least one of them knows the positions. “It’s a roaming defensive player, they don’t mark any players and they’re there to 'sweep up' the ball if the defensive line is broken.”

Futakuchi reaches the door first and holds it open for her. “What position do you play?” He asks kindly. 

Natsu slides past him with a quick smile. “Well, right now I’m—” The door slams behind Aone, right in Kogane's face. She pauses as the blonde student scrambles to open it again, scowling at Futakuchi. “I’m also on defense today,” she continues hesitantly. “It’s a weird choice, if you ask me. I’m usually an attacking player in our drills.” Natsu jumps, quickly holding up her hands. “Not that I’m questioning the captains! ‘Sugi-senpai was really insistent, I’m just glad I’m on the starting roster, I know she could just replace me with any of the second-years if she felt like it!”

“Ah! So you are a first year,” Kogane realizes excitedly. “I was about to ask! I’m a first year too, I think I wanna be a setter—”

“He’s not a starter though,” Futakuchi smirks, hooking an arm over Kogane’s shoulders. Kogane is taller, though, so he’s forced to slouch under Futakuchi’s weight. “Moniwa is our main setter. I’m the ace of Dateko.”

“I’m a libero,” Sakunami adds shyly, and then his face goes red. “I said that already, didn’t I?” Kogane laughs a little too loudly at that, and Sakunami jabs him in the side. 

Natsu… pretends not to see any of that, to save Sakunami the embarrassment. She turns away to approach the secretary at the front desk. “Irihata-san, hello! I have some visitors for the soccer game and they need to sign in.”

The older lady smiles kindly, far different from the secretary Natsu met at Aoba Johsai. “Oh course, sweetheart. Four students? That shouldn’t be a problem. My goodness, you boys are tall… Just sign this sheet, and make sure your stickers are visible at all times,” Irihata says easily, pulling out the adhesive badges out for them. “And I need you to sign too, honey. You were here yesterday to approve other visitors, but these are different boys, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” Natsu agrees, printing her name and class number carefully. “My brother goes to Karasuno, it might take a while for him to get here. Hey, Irihata-san, you know Aone Yui, right? Look, this is her little brother!”

“I-I see,” Irihata agrees nervously, her head craned upward to look at him. “Younger brother. I wouldn’t h-have guessed.”

Futakuchi thanks the secretary swiftly for all of them, and passes out the stickers. 

Natsu sighs. “Alright, it was nice to meet you all but I kinda have to go,” she says apologetically as they exit the building. She lifts her feet one at a time to stretch her quads, and then does a few bouncing steps to loosen up. 

“Aren’t we going the same way?” Sakunami points out curiously. 

“Yeah, but if I walk back, Captain will yell at me!” Natsu laughs. “Thanks for coming! See you later!” 

She starts out at a jog, and picks up the pace into a conservative sprint back to the field. 

On the way, she passes two familiar purple jerseys. “Hey guys I’m running late!” Natsu shouts to Goshiki and Kawanishi, turning back to wave at them quickly. 

“O-Oh! Hey Hinata,” Goshiki replies belatedly, his voice faint. Natsu steps up to the chain-link fence around the field and pulls herself over it to save time; the gate’s much further down from where her team’s sitting in a circle to stretch.

“Oi, oi, Nacchan!” Iwabuchi laughs at her as she scrambles to unzip her jacket. “Way to make an entrance. Where the hell have you been?”

“Sorry!” Natsu cries, bowing a few times to Aone and Utsugi. “I’m back, sorry to keep you waiting.”

Captain Utsugi glares. “That’s not the problem, Hinata.”

“Eh? But I got them signed in like you asked,” she insists, collapsing onto the grass to get into the same stretching position as the others.  “I wasn’t gone long!”

“Hinata, have you looked at the bleachers?” Yokoyama asks. Aone clicks her tongue irritably. 

The bleachers? Natsu twists her torso around to look back at the stands. There’s a cluster of black gakurans, Karasuno’s school uniform, sitting in the front. There’s also a ton of Shiratorizawa uniforms crowding the bleachers, way more than usual. Both school uniforms and purple track jackets from the athletic clubs. 

“Oh, wow,” Natsu gapes. The crowd was nothing like this for the Johzenji match! No one said anything about their home games getting much attention, so this had to be a surprise for the whole team. She looks back at Utsugi, but doesn’t know what to say.

The captain sighs. “If any of you freak out, I’ll bench you,” she adds, before moving onto the next stretch.

As the team disperses from the field and back onto the sidelines to listen to the coach, Yui hangs back with Rumi, throwing her an inquisitive look.

Rumi sighs again. “Are we really doing this today? I thought we’d wait.”

“I don’t see why,” Yui says plainly. “This is a big crowd for a regulation game.”

The two of them finally give in to take a closer look at their audience. Dozens of white blazers from the student body fill the stands now. Hinata Natsu mentioned there might be a few people from Karasuno watching as well, and Yui could pick out a handful of black gakurans in the sea of people. 

A mane of spiky red hair stands out on the far side of the benches. Tendou starts waving with both hands when he notices her looking. Beside him, Ushijima waves awkwardly, like he’s never done it before. Yui doesn’t wave back, but she is pleased to see them. 

“Never thought I’d see the day where you of all people wanted to show off,” Rumi mutters. Yui turns to her to protest this, but the captain just flashes her a grin. 

“Dateko knows our offense,” Yui says assuredly, all business again. “They tend to overcommit.”

The captain hums, thinking it over. But she likes the idea of this crowd watching them in action just as much as Yui. “Don't beat yourself up if it doesn't work. And wait until I get a feel for their attacks. Then you can try it.”

Yui smiles, but has to demur. “You know it’s not just me that has to pull it off,” she turns her gaze away from Rumi and towards the starting members gathered around Sameshima. “Every play is a team effort.”

The captain and her vice finally approach the bench, catching the coach’s eye. Sameshima smirks, somehow catching on without them saying a word. 

“Let’s have fun today, ladies,” Sameshima declares. “I want an indisputable win.”

A/N: more ariyoshi and natsu bc i love them

Chapter Text

Having so many people watching is exciting! Natsu wishes she had the chance to talk to Shouyou or Goshiki before the game, but it’ll have to wait. She has a lot to say to them: Shouyou has four boys with him, not just Yamaguchi, and she doesn’t even recognize the one with the gelled hair—oh no did they even check in for the visitor passes?? 

She remembers telling Shouyou how to get passes, but… Natsu takes a second to pull aside Hirao before she has to step onto the field, asking the reserve keeper to speak to Shouyou about visitor rules.

Even if Hirao gets Shouyou sorted out, that doesn’t explain Goshiki! What is he doing here with his ENTIRE TEAM? Why is half the school trying to cram onto the bleachers for a regulation game?! It must be the volleyball team’s presence that’s attracting so many onlooking students; word spread quickly at the Academy. Natsu nearly cries when she realizes that Aimi Kunitake has her phone out every time the coach’s back is turned, adding to her snapchat story. Everyone keeps up with Aimi’s snap story! Everyone is going to be watching this match! 

It’s not even an important game, but suddenly the pressure has increased tenfold. 

(Natsu reiterates to herself that she’s excited at having an audience, and not terrified out of her mind that she’ll screw this up.)

By the time the teams are on the field for kick off, the bleachers are filled. Natsu never imagined it would be anything like this; that she would feel anything like this, with a crowd at her back. It’s incredible. Terrifying, but incredible. Not every match is memorable, but this is one feels like so much more than just a game. 

“KORRAAAAA!” Yamane screeches from the halfway line, making Natsu jump. Yamane bounces on the balls of her feet, loosening up. “Look at all these fans! Hell yeah!” She pumps a fist at the bleachers, and grins maniacally when people wave back and cheer. 

Faintly, Natsu can pick out her brother’s voice. She’s on the far side of the field from the bleachers, so she can’t call back anything to him. Instead she just raises an arm towards the bleachers in an aimless wave, her eyes focused on the referee as the ball is placed in the center circle. 

Her heart is pounding. It feels like the whole world is watching, almost. It’d be even better if her parents could watch, but they’ve never had time for school activities. Having Shouyou there to cheer her on is enough. 

Captain Utsugi stands just beyond the penalty box, arms at rest at her sides as she scans the field. Natsu recalls the last-minute discussion Utsugi dragged her into, alongside Ariyoshi and Takahashi and a senior midfielder, Sakaguchi. Natsu isn’t used to getting coached just before a match, but at least her directions were simple...

Her gaze shifts past the captain to their keeper. The referee calls for Aone’s attention, a formal check before starting the match, and the tall, pale girl waves back silently, her face relaxed into a neutral glare she often wore.

The whistle blows, and Dateko starts with a hard back pass to their midfielder. Natsu lets the cheering crowd melt away as the game begins.

“I can’t believe Nacchan leapt over the fence like an action hero!” Nishinoya raves, shaking Shouyou by the shoulder as Natsu joins her team warm-up. “Your sister’s freakin’ cool!”

“I think she was just running late,” Yamaguchi laughs. Shouyou can’t help but agree.

“Nacchan’s gonna do great and all, but…” Tanaka interrupts, leaning back and peering through a gap in the crowd. “Are we gonna talk about the fact that the entire volleyball club is sitting right there, or not?”

“That’s them?” Yamaguchi whispers.

“That’s definitely them. Ushiwaka is the big guy next to the redhead,” Tanaka confirms with narrowed eyes.

Shouyou bites the inside of his cheek and exhales slowly. Beside him, Kageyama glares a hole into the soccer field, refusing to look away. The setter decided to join them at the last minute, as soon as the third years and Tsukishima had left school. Yamaguchi was kind enough to let him join, but Shouyou is still wary about it all. 

“Shouyooooou,” Nishinoya whines, still clutching his arm. “Please let us talk to them.”

Yamaguchi shakes his head sharply. “We can’t pick a fight, we’re not even here for volleyball,” he says firmly. 

“Who said anything ‘bout fighting?!” Tanaka complains.

“I was at the Seijoh match,” Yamaguchi points out. “Daichi isn’t here to break up any arguments this time.”

“Maybe I just wanna tell them we’re gonna beat their asses at InterHigh!” Noya argues. Tanaka cracks his knuckles.

Yamaguchi stares, wondering if bringing them along was a bad idea after all. Tsukki’s never letting me live this down. 

“Nacchan is friends with a bunch of them,” Shouyou points out firmly, though it’s killing him inside. He can see Ushijima from here. The best spiker in the prefecture. He’s huge. Shouyou wants to see how high he can jump…. “Yamaguchi is right. What if it ends up like Aoba Johsai? I’m not upsetting Nacchan over this.”

“But why are all of them here?” Kageyama grits out. “I recognize the starters. Is she friends with the whole team? How?”

“I don’t know…” Shouyou doesn’t really have an answer for that. Throughout elementary school and up to junior high, the two of them shared friend groups. Nacchan had girl friends too, of course, but she spent a lot of time with Shouyou messing around on playgrounds and competing in games, so—

“She’s kind of a tomboy,” Shouyou says at last, realizing this for the first time. “Nacchan gets along well with other athletes,” he adds. 

“And here I thought you were the friendliest person I ever met,” Yamaguchi muses, watching the Shiratorizawa team gather in a huddle around their coach and captains. 

Well, I wouldn’t call her the friendliest girl, Shouyou thinks to himself. She still doesn't know her team very well. 

“Son of a bitch,” Tanaka hisses all of a sudden, grabbing Noya. “Is that the Dateko team?!”

The libero goes rigid. “The Iron Wall…”

Shouyou is confused. They’re not looking at the Dateko soccer team on the field, but another group of extremely tall guys in white and teal tracksuits instead, lining up along the chain-link fence to watch the game. His jaw drops. “Are those—? Is that Dateko’s volleyball team? What the heck are they doing here?”

“Yeah, those are definitely first and second years from the Dateko volleyball club,” a voice interrupts, and a stranger leans between Tanaka and Yamaguchi from the bench above them, a grin splitting his face. “Yo, I don’t recognize your uniforms, where’re you guys from?”

The Karasuno team exchanges wary looks. 

“...Karasuno High School,” Shouyou answers, looking him up and down suspiciously. He’s definitely some kind of athlete, with his build, but his hair is bleached golden and he’s wearing a black stud in each ear. He’s not wearing any uniform, but looks about the same age as the other students. “Wh-who are you?”

“The name’s Terushima,” He smiles sunnily. “I’m from Johzenji. You guys play volleyball?” He points a thumb at the two boys next to him, and the grin he gives Shouyou is closer to a smirk. “So do we.”

“Oh my god,” Yamaguchi murmurs, clutching at his blazer. “How many volleyball players are watching this soccer game?!”

(The answer: more than you think)

“I’m surprised too,” Terushima replies, unfazed, leaning on one fist. “Didn’t think Ushiwaka would show up,” he says conspiratorially. “I was at the last game, there was only like a handful of people watching. Kinda spooky that we all showed up for this one, eh?”

There’s a beat of silence between the players. 

Kageyama suddenly springs to his feet. “That’s it! I’m going, I have to get a better look at—”

“Kageyama, no!” Surprisingly, it’s Yamaguchi that lunges for him first, hauling him back onto the bench. Shouyou helps, latching onto the setter’s waist. “Ignore them!”

Nishinoya breaks next. “Let’s check out the Dateko blockers too! We gotta prepare Asahi for those giants!”

“Noya-san!” Tanaka cries, tightening his hold on the back of the libero’s jacket when he leaps in the opposite direction. “Wait! Leave ‘em alone! You can’t pick a fight with the Iron Wall here!”

Nishinoya thrashes in Tanaka’s grip.“I HAVE to—!”

Kageyama shoves at Shouyou’s face, to no avail. “Let go, boke! Let me talk to Shiratorizawa’s damn setter—!”

“No! Stop calling me a dumbass! You agreed to come for Nacchan, you’re staying to watch Nacchan!”

“Ne, is Nacchan that little ginger girl?” Terushima mutters to his friend, Bobata, idly watching Karasuno tear itself apart. To be honest it’s more interesting than the soccer game about to start, though Yuuji won’t tell Risako-chan that. 

“Must be, she looks like the shorty,” Bobata agrees, comparing the bright orange hair of the Karasuno boy to the little #21 in a purple uniform. “She's tiny, but you know those soccer types, they’ve got a certain look. Nice.”

“And a lot of energy,” Terushima agrees smugly.

“Y’think Risako-chan would introduce us?” Bobata wonders. 

Kageyama continues to struggle against Yamaguchi and Hinata. “Boke! The game’s 90 minutes long, I won't miss anything—”

“What did you just say?” Shouyou asks suddenly, ignoring Kageyama and turning his frigid gaze onto Terushima’s friend. “You, Johzenji guy. I’m talking to you.”

“Yeah!” Noya adds, mimicking Shouyou’s glare. “What’d you say about Nacchan?”

“What?” Bobata blinks at him. “Nothing, shrimpy, don’t worry about it.”

Shouyou sees red. “Shrimpy—?!”

“Oi!” Kageyama yelps. Suddenly it’s him and Yamaguchi holding back Shouyou. “Calm down, dumbass—!”

“Um, e-excuse me?” A shrill voice interrupts. “You, in the black gakuran? Are you H-Hinata Shouyou?”

The Karasuno boys freeze in place, awkwardly tangled in each others’ arms. Shouyou releases Kageyama slowly, glaring at Bobata one last time before lifting his head. “Uh… That’s me?”

The voice belongs to a girl in a fluorescent-yellow jersey leaning against the fence, looking hesitantly at Shouyou. She’s in a soccer uniform, but not in either of the teams’ colors—instead, her shirt is long-sleeved, and she has tape wrapped around two fingers like she’s recently jammed them. She’s also as tall as Yamaguchi, which is kinda unusual for a soccer player unless they’re a goalkeeper...

“Oh!” Shouyou exclaims, just as the girl goes to talk, unintentionally cutting her off. “You must be Hirao-san, the first-year goalkeeper!” Shouyou hops down from the bench to meet her at the gate. “Hi, I’m Shouyou!”

The girl startles, clearly not expecting to be recognized. “Um. Yes. Th-that’s me… Hirao…” She trails off as Shouyou’s teammates follow him like ducklings to stand along the fence as well, looking alarmed that he’s backed up by four other boys. “Hinata-san—uh, your sister asked me to p-pass on a message?”

Shouyou likes Hirao instantly. Despite the fact that Hirao is tall and dark-haired, he’s strongly reminded of a short, smart blonde girl in his elective class. The one with the hair clip. What was her name? Yakiniku? No, that’s food...

“You’re on the team with Nacchan, huh?” Nishinoya pipes up, looking up at the girl with interest. “That’s awesome! Your uniform is way cooler, too! You stand out a lot!”

Hirao looks ready to pass out, red as a beet. “Th-th-thank you. It-it’s because I’m a goalie. B-but, u-uh, Captain Utsugi—“ she pauses, gathering herself, “Hinata-san will be in trouble if she has guests on campus without visitors’ passes,” she says all in one breath. 

“Hah?!” Tanaka demands loudly, and Hirao jolts again. “We need passes to watch the game?!”

“I-I’m sorry!” Hirao squeaks, refusing to meet any of their eyes. “I thought you knew! Hinata said she told her brother, but she didn’t know how many were visiting, so—!“

“Did she?” Shouyou wonders. He didn’t remember that part. “Whoops. I must’ve not heard her. So then how do we get passes?” 

Kageyama smacks the back of his head. “Are you telling me we’re trespassing here?! Boke, Hinata—“ he begins to shake Shouyou by the collar of his shirt.

“Please don’t be mad!” Hirao warbles, nervously clutching at the hem of her shirt. She definitely reminds Shouyou of that little blonde classmate from Karasuno. Ah, Yachi-san, that’s who he’s thinking of!

“This place is so bougie, holy crap!” Tanaka elbows Nishinoya, griping. 

“It’s not your fault, Hirao—“ Yamaguchi tries to assure her.

“Stop shaking me, Kageyama!” Shouyou yells, slapping at his hand. “We have to go get passes, fighting me doesn’t solve anything—“

Hirao looks like she’s in pain. “I’m so sorry, please stop yelling—!“

“All of you, quiet down,” someone interrupts, yanking Kageyama and Shouyou apart in order to reach the fence in front of Hirao. “You’re being a nuisance.”

He has dark blonde hair and wears a look of deep disgust on his face. There’s something oddly familiar about him to Shouyou, but he’s pretty sure they’ve never met. Also, he’s in a Shiratorizawa warm-up jacket, the signature light purple printed with the ominous words: Shiratorizawa Volleyball Club. 

“Oh. I know you,” Hirao squeaks in surprise. “Shirabu-san, right? W-What’re you doing here?”

A slight frown pulls at Shirabu’s mouth. “I—was just passing by,” he says dismissively, before turning his gaze onto Karasuno. “Why are you harassing the goalie?” Shirabu demands. He glares at Kageyama in particular like he’s just killed a cat. 

Hirao, the angel that she clearly is, comes to their defense. “They need visitors’ passes for the game, and a student to sign them in, but I don’t want to leave the field, we’re about to start...”

“I see,” the student replies, his eyes not leaving the Karasuno players. “I can take it from here,” Shirabu assures her briskly.

He’s strangely calculating and blank-faced. Shouyou is convinced he’s about to be taken out behind the bleachers and murdered. 

“A-Are you sure?” Hirao asks, perplexed. “I-I can go, I just need to get permission first and—”

“I’m not really interested in watching the game, so I don’t mind,” he points out.

Shouyou feels his teeth clench uncomfortably in his jaw. Why was this Shirabu guy hanging around a soccer field if he wasn’t going to watch the game? Suspicious. This better not be one of Natsu’s friends, or they’ll need to have a talk about what sort of people she’s getting caught up with. 

“Okay,” Hirao says cautiously, eyes darting between Shirabu and the others. “Thanks?”

“Tell Hinata she owes me one.” Shirabu says, before turning to the Karasuno team. Shouyou knows he looks mutinous, and his teammates are no better—they’ve all spotted the warm up jacket he’s sporting. Shirabu clicks his tongue and threatens, “Follow me to the office or I’ll have you all kicked off school grounds.”

“Wha—?!” Tanaka splutters, but Yamaguchi grabs his arm and whispers harshly to him until he settles down. 

“You don’t want to embarrass your little sister, do you?” Shirabu says blandly, eyeing Shouyou balefully. “This school is serious about trespassers. She’ll be lucky if she gets away with just a scolding.”

He turns around and begins to walk away from the field. Shouyou stares after him, torn. “Ugh!” He scowls, stomping after the jerk. “If you cared about Natsu you wouldn’t threaten to kick us off campus!” he points out as his teammates trail after him reluctantly. “Who are you anyway, huh?”

“Shirabu Kenjirou,” he answers over his shoulder, not even looking at Shouyou. “Who are you?”

Shouyou grits his teeth, glaring a hole into the back of Shirabu’s head. “I’m Hinata Shouyou, Nacchan’s big brother.”

“You don’t look like it,” Shirabu mutters. Yamaguchi snorts loudly before clapping a hand over his mouth. 

“What does that mean, hah?!” Shouyou snaps, catching up to the sullen boy. “We look exactly alike!”

“Not exactly,” Shirabu replies evenly, giving Shouyou a once-over. “I think she’s taller, isn’t she?”

Shouyou’s jaw drops as his face flushes with color. “S-so what if she’s taller for now?! Shut up!” He snaps, turning around to glare at Kageyama and Yamaguchi as well, because he sure as heck could hear them snickering too. “God! I feel bad for Nacchan if she has to deal with you every day, Shirabu.”

The blonde student just rolls his eyes as they approach one of the Academy’s buildings, something that looks like a front office. 

“Uwaah! This place really is fancy!” Nishinoya remarks, looking around so much it’s like his head is on a swivel stick. “Ryuu, I can see horses from here!”

“Awesome! Sick!” Tanaka howls, looking back at the horses and waving at them. 

“Do you expect them to wave back?” Yamaguchi wonders, exasperated. 

“Oi, Shirabu,” Kageyama says at last, just as they approach a secretary’s desk. “I think you’re the main setter for the Academy... am I right?”

That seems to draw Shirabu’s interest, for once. He sets his eyes on Kageyama again, calculatingly. “Yes, pretty much.” He turns away to address the secretary, politely asking for the sign-up sheet from Irihata-san. 

Kageyama seems to stew for a while, unsure of how to proceed. Shouyou feels for him, because this setter is the coldest he's ever encountered too. Eventually Shirabu turns around and instructs them each to sign in for the secretary.

“Oh, goodness,” the secretary says, upon seeing Shouyou. “You must be Hinata Shouyou, oh, just look at that hair! You look just like your sister, it’s uncanny!”

Shouyou laughs, scribbling down his name. “Yeah, we’re hard to miss, huh? Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Irihata-san reminds him of Granny Kiho, his next-door neighbor that constantly coos over how cute they are. 

Irihata-san titters with laughter. As Yamaguchi goes to sign his name, the secretary continues. “Seems like a very popular game, your sister was in here earlier with Aone-san’s brother and his friends.”

“Aone Yui?” Shouyou recognizes the name. “That’s the goalie, right?”

“Yes, and her brother goes to Dateko,” Irihata-san chatters, shuffling papers. “Now those Aone kids, they’re hard to miss!”

Does the goalie’s brother also play volleyball? Shouyou remembers that one of the big Dateko has white hair—he didn’t get a good look at them, but it had to be Aone. And Natsu signed them in? Maybe he’d say hi? Behind him, Noya and Tanaka share conflicted a look.

“...And you, Kenjirou-kun,” the secretary addresses the Shiratorizawa student out of the blue, startling him. “No volleyball today? I only ever see you sign in visitors for your own matches.”

“...There was no match today. We just had training, and it ended a little early,” Shirabu admits timidly, not meeting the secretary’s eyes. “I’m just doing this as a favor to Hinata-san.”

Shouyou watches Shirabu with narrowed eyes. So he is one of Natsu’s friends, then? Why is he acting so weird?

“Oho?” Tanaka pipes up, rubbing his chin and leaning into Shirabu’s space. “I’m sure Nacchan would like it more if you stayed for the game, though.”

Shirabu glares a hole into Tanaka, while Irihata-san hums in agreement. “Oh, I can tell she’s very excited about this all. Such a sweet girl.” Finally, the secretary passes out the official sticker ID things for each of the visiting students, and the group of boys heads back to the field. “Have fun at the game!”

As soon as they’re out of the secretary’s earshot, Shouyou turns to Shirabu again. “So you are one of Natsu’s friends,” he says, getting in front of the setter and walking backwards to face him fully. Shirabu scowls. “I feel like I know you from somewhere,” Shouyou adds. “You didn’t go to Yukigaoka Junior High, did you?”

“No. I’ve never met you before in my life,” Shirabu says bluntly. Shouyou isn't surprised, but he still thinks there’s something familiar about him. “And I’m not friends with Hinata, I just. Know her.”

“Hah?” Shouyou frowns at him. “So why’re you even helping me?”

“What does it matter? You have passes now, my job is done,” Shirabu retorts, suddenly diverging from the pathway that leads back to the field. “Go watch the game and stop bothering me.”

“Oi, oi, oi,” Nishinoya flanks Shirabu with Tanaka, arms crossed. “You heard the old lady. Don’t you want Nacchan to have a big crowd to cheer her on??”

“Uh, yeah. That’s why you’re all here, isn't it?” Shirabu stares down Nishinoya with disdain. “Leave me out of it. I don’t even like soccer.”

“OI!” Someone calls from the building. “SHIRABU! I lost my phone again!” A dark haired student waves to the setter as he approaches, followed by two younger students. “You gotta help me find it—!"

The Karasuno students all watch the waves of conflict wash over Shirabu Kenjirou’s face as he battles between two equally unpleasant options. Yamagata constantly loses his phone, and there’s no guarantee of Shirabu finding it in a timely manner. The libero can and will rope anyone into helping him out, and won't feel the slightest bit guilty when his phone turns up in a jacket pocket three hours later. On the other hand, Hinata Natsu wasn’t a terribly annoying person, and Ushijima was in the bleachers already. 

It's a no brainer. 

“Well fuck that,” Shirabu mutters to himself. “Sorry, I can’t help you, Yamagata-senpai. I’m already late to Hinata’s game.” He swerves around Nishinoya and back onto the pathway downhill. 

“What! You said you weren’t goin—?“

“Good luck finding your phone. Bye.”

“SHIRABU!”

Chapter Text

Hirao Chika watches as Dateko’s auburn-haired midfielder is swapped out for a tall, familiar-looking brunette. 

“Is that a new player?” Ichise wonders. “I don’t remember that big #07 from last year.”

Chika stares harder at #07’s back. She’s certain she knows this player, but can’t quite remember who she is. Straight brown hair, a white headband…. No, it’s not...

“They gave a first year one of the first ten jerseys, that’s kinda weird too,” Sugita agrees. “Nice cleats. Green, huh?”

#07 jogs up to the sideline and her teammate, who was about to throw in the ball, hands it off to her instead. Chika’s heart plummets into her stomach. She remembers this girl from junior high. “Oh, no—wait, wait, no—“ 

“Hirao?” Her teammate asks, surprised to see the reserve keeper scrambling to her feet, waving frantically to the teammates on the field. “What’s wrong?”

“Yoshi! Takahashi!” Chika hollers, gesturing sharply. There’s three Dateko players making runs despite the fact that they’re at the midway line, nowhere near Shiratorizawa’s goal. It was too far up the field for most attacking plays, so the defenders weren’t marking them. 

Ariyoshi looks up when she hears Hirao screeching from the sidelines, catching the glimpse of movement from one of the players in white out of the corner of her eye. Hirao is frazzled. Dateko is moving quickly. Why? What’s changed?

Wait, they’re gonna…? Ariyoshi realizes in surprise.

Goshiki steals another glance at the orange-haired boy sitting in the first row of bleachers. The wing spiker fidgets, weighing the pros and cons in his mind of going over and introducing himself to the Other Hinata. There’s no doubt that it’s Hinata’s brother, their hair is exactly the same and at first glance, Goshiki had thought Natsu was sitting in the stands instead. They were even around the same height and build.

Shirabu had walked with them back to the bleachers, but the setter was being ridiculously tight-lipped over the whole ordeal. Shirabu hadn't said anything about wanting to watch the soccer game, but now he was on the bleachers, scowling at any teammate that questioned his presence.

“Kawanishi-san?” Goshiki turns to the middle blocker hesitantly. “Is Hinata’s brother older or younger than her?”

“You mean you don’t already know?” Shirabu interrupts, arms crossed. 

Goshiki grimaces. “I don’t remember! And I just thought I’d be able to tell!” 

Semi sighs from the bench behind them, elbowing Shirabu in the back. “He goes to high school, so by process of elimination he has to be older than her,” the third year says reasonably. “Because Natsu’s a first year.” Shirabu nods in agreement.

Kawanishi Taichi marvels at the ignorance around him. Shirabu literally met Shouyou, but still wasn’t clued in on the fact that the Hinatas were twins? Incredible. Astounding. True volleyball idiots, the lot of them. 

“But he is pretty short,” Semi continues blithely. “Especially for a volleyball player.”

Kawanishi coughs into his hand suddenly, ducking his head. Shirabu’s nose scrunches up in disgust. “Oi, if you’re sick—”

“It’s nothing,” Kawanishi mutters smoothly, rubbing his face to hide a shit-eating grin. “Just something caught in my throat.” He steals a glance at the basketball player next to him, Hoshino, who just pats his back absently, hiding a smile of his own.

When Goshiki and Shirabu turn away, Tendou scoots down the bench to whisper between Kawanishi and Hoshino. “How long before everyone realizes they’re twins?” The guess blocker asks teasingly. “I’ll bet Eita and Tsutomu won’t know until Natsu spells it out. You two each get a meat bun if I’m wrong.”

Kawanishi tilts his head back minutely, eyes fixed on the field even as he recognizes that Tendou is addressing both him and Tomoki. “Shirabu won’t see it either. I bet you and Ushijima-san two of those yogurt drinks.”

They shake on it. 

“What the hell are you two doing?” Shirabu demands, eyes narrowed as he catches the handshake between them. “Was that a bet? You always shakes hands when you’re making stupid bets.”

“Middle blocker solidarity,” Kawanishi declares gravely, suddenly reaching for the setter and placing his hands on Shirabu’s shoulders. “I’m sorry. You’ll never share our bond, Kenjirou.”

The setter rears back in revulsion, automatically looking to Semi as if to say, ‘Are you seeing this shit?’

Semi, however, plays along. “I’m sorry, Kenjirou,” he parrots Kawanishi’s somber tone, “It just wasn’t meant to be.” 

“What does that even mean?” Shirabu snaps, confused by the sudden act they’re putting on. “And don’t call me Kenjirou.”

Kawanishi and Semi lock eyes and begin nodding at each other, as if they’ve confirmed some secret knowledge between them. 

“I hate this team,” Shirabu grumbles, turning away to ignore the nonsensical exchange. “This whole thing is so stupid, I don't know why I bother hanging around you guys.”

Goshiki turns to him irritably. Shirabu’s been complaining all afternoon about soccer, and Goshiki worries that Natsu will end up hearing about it. “You didn’t have to come, Shirabu-san. Do you even like soccer?”

“Do you?” Shirabu shoots right back, though he crosses his arms defensively as he speaks. “I’m not busy today, and none of the starters stayed for extra practice, so I came here.” Furtively, his eyes cut to the left where Ushijima is sitting with Tendou. 

“I’m here for my friend!” Goshiki answers stubbornly. “I was specifically invited. So was Tendou-senpai and Ushijima-senpai!”

That was the real kicker, wasn’t it? Ushijima got invited to everything, and never went to any school events. So the fact that Tendou had gotten him to sit down at this game intrigued Shirabu and the rest of the team. Apparently a girl in Tendou’s class, the soccer team’s vice captain, had invited them to the game. Reon, Yunohama, Semi, and Jin had tagged along, so the only regular missing was Yamagata, because he’d misplaced his phone and was running around campus with two (unwilling) first years trying to find it. Kawanishi and his friend from the basketball team had decided to stop by too. 

Semi chuckles, leaning forward and blatantly eavesdropping. “I thought it’d be nice to surprise Hinata, but uh,” he gestures lazily to the rest of the student body that decided to show up. “Not sure I make much of a difference at this point.”

Shirabu rolls his eyes. “Like she’d care either way if you were here,” he says under his breath, just loud enough for Semi to overhear. 

“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?” Semi asks angrily. 

“Nothing.”

“God, you’re such a little shit—” but before Semi can get worked up into a proper tantrum, Reon leans over and manages to distract him with a bag of spicy chips. Shirabu rolls his eyes again. Of course the offer of food would work on Semi...

Great, now Shirabu wants chips.

The crowd’s cheering begins to rise in volume, and their attention goes back to the field as Hinata’s team gets the ball up the field. One of the outside runners is forced out of bounds, and the ball goes to Dateko. 

Dateko uses the pause to make a substitution. There’s a little number board (it looks like the scoreboard they use in practice games) that shows which players are being subbed on or off. #18 for #07.

Suddenly, the fluorescent yellow girl on the Shiratorizawa bench starts to yell urgently, shouting directions to the players on the field.

Took ‘em long enough to sub me in, Kimura thinks to herself irritably, shrugging off the usual yapping from Himuro-senpai as she’s subbed off the field. “Don’t be sloppy”, “just follow the captain’s lead”, “the Academy’s defense is solid” yadda yadda yadda. 

None of it mattered. What matters is if Kimura can give the Dateko strikers a head start or not. And the answer is hell yeah.

A teammate hands off the soccer ball to Kimura, pressing it into her hands with a stern look. She grins back at them, her tongue poking out between her teeth. 

“No other team in the prefecture has a player like you,” her captain told her the other day. “You’re a wild card for us, Kimura.”

“So I should always be in the game,” she had answered tartly, digging her hands into her new Dateko jersey. “You put me on the starting roster, so why aren’t I on the field all the time?”

“Because a wild card doesn’t always work in our favor,” the third year snapped. “It’s just a ploy that makes the outcome less predictable. What I want is certainty. I want you to create opportunities.”

Kimura’s old coaches and teammates in junior high never treated her like this. Dateko wasn’t well-known for their soccer program, but this team… this team felt different to Kimura. Driven. Organized. Like a well-oiled machine. And they acted like Kimura was a wrench thrown into the works. 

Well, she’s not here to hold her team back. Never. Kimura knows what she’s capable of. 

I’m here to clear a path. 

The soccer ball twirls in her palms, a little slick with dew and grass. Kimura lifts her head to the referee, who blows the whistle to restart the game. She takes a step back. And then another.

One of Natsu’s teammates, the yellow-shirt one, Hirao, is frantically yelling at the other players, waving her arms sharply. “Back, back!” the short-haired girl shouts. “Yoshi, cover!”

The audience murmurs in confusion, speculating why they’re so concerned with a throw-in. There’s already been a few throw-ins, and none seemed very important. Shirabu takes a look at the Dateko girl, a #07 emblazoned on her back, who scoops up the ball. She’s on the taller side, lean with broad shoulders. 

#07 doesn’t stand at the edge of the field, but several paces away from the painted lines. The referee blows the whistle, and instead of immediately throwing the ball back onto the field, #07 runs up to the line with quick and evenly spaced steps—Kinda like what you’d used in a jump serve, huh—her feet stop just short of the painted line, her back arched, and then—

Whoosh. 

The ball isn’t thrown, it’s been launched.

“What the fuck,” Shirabu says aloud, as the soccer ball hurdles down the sideline, falling like a mortar from the sky and right into the path of another Dateko player just meters away from the penalty area. 

“Like a canon,” Goshiki comments, eyes wide. “Wow. I didn’t know you could just chuck it like that!”

“A long throw?!” Someone hollers from the lower stand. It sounds eerily like Natsu. When Shirabu looks for the speaker, sure enough, it’s her orange-haired brother. “Uwahh, it’s basically a set piece! They’re out of position now, that’s a nasty trick!” 

Shiratorizawa scrambles back onto defense, and—the crowd starts to shout again, tensions rising as Dateko makes two unhindered passes, getting closer and closer to the goal. #13 from Shiratorizawa makes a desperate, vicious dive for their striker, almost kicking out their legs from under them, but misses—

“Shit!” Shirabu finds himself shouting alongside the rest of the audience when Dateko’s striker, half a step faster than the defender, takes a direct shot on goal. “No!”

No! Natsu screams in her head. She’s so far from the goal, the attacking play started on her side of the field but with #07’s throw-in, it was all the other defenders that had to catch up with Dateko’s strikers. 

I’m so far, she thinks in desolation, But I could double back to cover #07, in case of a rebound—?

Down the field, Aone dives for the ball, scooping it up easily. Safe. No rebounds. No goal yet.

Natsu sighs with relief. #07 with the green cleats jogs a few paces ahead of her, muttering in disappointment. Natsu watches her uneasily, conflicted. 

“That’s a shame,” Kimura laughs airily, waving to the teammate that almost scored. “Let’s try again!”

If #07 moves up any further, I’ll have to move down too, Natsu thinks. Utsugi told me not to mark too closely, but that was before we knew about #07’s throw-in. If she gets to do that again, we’ll get stuck on this half of the field trying to tighten our defense. 

Aone was one of their best players, but attacking plays like #07’s pushed the odds out of her favor. Natsu looks past #07, towards Captain Utsugi. 

What do we do??

Rumi stares back at Hinata, unfazed. Why are you nervous? She wonders. We already told you what to do. So do it.

On the sidelines, the crowd watches Aone make a graceful dive, scooping up the ball effortlessly and rolling to her feet in the same motion. “AOOONEE!” People begin shrieking wildly, relief flooding the stands. 

Tendou is especially loud, trying and failing to start up one of the school cheers they usually hear at their volleyball games. 

On the field, Yui doesn’t even hear the cheers. She’s a little ticked off after #07’s unusual stunt, though. She’s never seen someone throw a ball like that from the sideline, except from an Irish player in an professional tournament. Here, though it failed to get them a goal, it made her defensive line panic. She had three new defenders right now, and though Kunitake and Ariyoshi put on brave faces, they were obviously freaked out at the idea of conceding another throw-in. And worse, #07 was in Hinata’s territory, but they couldn’t waste Hinata right now by having her mark #07. 

That long throw could, admittedly, be dangerous if it happened closer to the goal—it was as effective as a corner kick for Dateko, more dangerous than your average set piece because the off-sides rules were different for throw-ins. 

No matter. It didn’t make up for Dateko’s lackluster strikers. And Yui’s team is right where she wants them to be. She glances at Rumi, debating. I know you asked for time, but I'd rather not lose our momentum.

Rumi turns away, shuffling sideways and off to the left to cover the gap. 

Dateko probably assumes Yui can kick pretty far; it’s not surprising for a goalie of her size, so their strikers don’t bother lingering near the goal. But they’re slow on the counter, still looking to attack, and as Yui suspected, their defenders are too committed to their marks. Yamane and Iwabuchi are known to score most of Shiratorizawa’s goals, and Dateko refuses to let a pass get through to them.

Yui drops the ball at her feet, preparing to put it into play.

Back in the stands, Shouyou bounces up and down on the balls of his feet. That goalkeeper really was something special! He kind of gets why Natsu seems to hero-worship the vice captain. 

“Something’s weird about Nacchan’s team,” Kageyama says out of the blue, his chin resting in one hand. Since coming back from the front office, he’s been surprisingly well-behaved. Kageyama’s nose scrunches up in annoyance. “But I don’t know what.”

“Hm?” Shouyou frowns, looking back at the field. No one’s really moving, because the goalkeeper was still holding the ball. It was a moment for Shiratorizawa to reset themselves and shake off the last attack. “Why do you think so?”

He glares at the field. “Natsu’s still out of position.”

“Eh?!” Shouyou frowns, searching for the familiar orange hair. 

“You said she’s a defender,” Kageyama replies. “She’s not blocking anyone, like the other girls are.”

Shouyou didn’t really remember where each player had started out at the beginning of the game, but Natsu had been moving up and down the sideline so much he’d given up on looking for her again and again unless she was near the ball. 

There were still four or five players lingering in or around the penalty box, but Natsu was far ahead, at the halfway line. Her team was changing their formation. Or maybe they had changed it a while ago?

“Where’s Hinata?” Goshiki complains, nudging Shirabu’s shoulder. “Isn’t she supposed to be in the back? It’s hard to keep track of her.”

Shirabu scowls. “She’s literally right there, she looks like a traffic cone,” he says, pointing to the circle in the middle of the field. Then he scowls harder. “Oi, did she switch places with #16? There’s only four people in the back now, what the hell?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Yunohama speaks up from his spot next to Reon. Apparently he’s been googling soccer things to eventually work up the nerve to speak with Hinata’s captain. “You can basically move wherever you want, as long as no one’s behind Dateko’s last defender.”

“Yeah, but what’s the point of having a formation if you’re gonna break it?” Shirabu points out, looking at Natsu. She’s bouncing on her toes, roaming between the center circle and the sideline. He’s pretty sure her teammates have moved around too. 

Shiratorizawa’s keeper drops the ball onto the field, intending to make a pass to put the ball into play. She looks up, and takes a quick step back to make space for a run-up. Then she raises an arm and calls out for a teammate.

“HINATA!” Her hand falls, and she kicks the ball down the field.

Shouyou thought Dateko’s super-long throw was cool, but it’s nothing compared to Aone Yui’s stationary kick. 

The ball goes far. Really freaking far. 

The crowd begins to scream as the ball arches above the field, reaching its apex over the halfway line. By the time Shouyou starts looking for Natsu again, she’s practically at the edge of Dateko’s penalty box and she’s already mid-jump, high above the girl trying to stop her, the ball landing neatly against her leg and bouncing forward. "Yes! Go Nacchan!"

“She jumps a lot like you,” Kageyama says absently. “Huh.”

“Awesome!” Nishinoya shouts, shaking Yamaguchi’s shoulders. “Look at her go! She’s FAST!”

“Nacchan,” Shouyou murmurs thoughtfully, as the distance between #21 and the goal shrinks. Then louder, “NACCHAN! GO!”

“Hinata!!” His cheer is echoed by a few others in the stands, but Shouyou doesn’t turn to see who it is. “Go Hinata!”

He counts Natsu take two touches on the ball, three, zipping past a defender caught unaware—but they don’t follow her closely, Dateko instead focusing on blocking the strikers from closing into the center. Natsu’s too far down the field to get a good angle on the goal, but—

The goalie’s off her line, Natsu notes, seeing it all so clearly. Yamane can't call for the pass, she’s being marked. 

So, I should just…

Shouyou looks past Natsu to Dateko’s goalkeeper; she’s unconsciously stepped forward, following the ball with her eye, putting too much space between her and the goal post. So even with strikers open in the center, why would Natsu need to pass—?

There’s no wind-up, no pause. Instead of taking another dribble, instead of looking up for a cross to the middle, Natsu toes the ball sharply. 

The net swishes behind Dateko’s keeper. 

Natsu slows her run down to a standstill, letting the defender on her tail run past her. Dateko’s keeper gets to her feet. Natsu twists around to look for the referee. 

A loud whistle cuts through the air. The referee signals. 

Goal.

What?

“HINATAAAAAA!” Iwabuchi barrels into her, lifting her by the waist with a howl. Yamane shouts a few times from the far side of the box, but Natsu’s attention strays to the other side of the field.

Aone’s face is glowing with satisfaction. She points a finger straight at Natsu. 

“AONE-SAN!!” Natsu hollers at the top of her lungs, grinning so hard it makes her face ache. She points back, a hundred yards away. “AONE-SAN, NICE PASS! NICE ASSIST!”

A chorus of praise ripples over her team, for her and Aone. 

Natsu jogs back onto their side of the field, earning a high-five from Sakaguchi and Takahashi. (But not Ariyoshi, because she’s allergic to team spirit or something).

“I told you,” Utsugi raises her voice, giving Natsu a shrewd look. 

“Told me what?” Natsu wonders, still breathless. She isn't quite sure how far she just ran, but she's winded.

“That you’d make a good striker.”

...Striker?

Natsu feels like she’s just been struck over the head with a soccer ball. She’s been playing as a defender so far, but she's been practicing like an attacking midfielder in most of their practices. It’s why she could pull off the counter attack with Aone and Yamane, they run that drill with the keepers all the time. 

Except when they do that drill in practice, Aone doesn’t kick it that far. And it’s meant to be the start of an attacking play for Yamane or Masuya to finish with. But while Aone had called for Hinata before she made the kick, it hadn’t been aimed anywhere near Natsu. She ran so far for that pass, she’d only had one defender left to beat and no one else to pass to.

Oh. 

“But—but you made me a wing-back!” She points an accusing finger at the captain, flabbergasted. “Captain! Make up your mind!” 

Utsugi shrugs, turning back to focus on the game. “They’re going to try marking you now,” she says simply. “Make them work for it.”

Natsu shoots an exasperated look at the captain’s back. “Got it, Utsugi-san.”

Chapter Text

In the stands, students are screaming. At least four people are trying to start a chant, but they’re all singing at completely different rates. Five boys in black gakurans screech, “NACCHAAAAAN!” but they fail to get a reaction from the ginger girl on the field, talking to her captain.

(A few Shiratorizawa students whisper amongst each other, wondering if the five in gakurans were even allowed at the game.) 

In the upper corner of the bleachers, a flustered Shirabu claws his way out of Goshiki’s tentacle-armed embrace. Being the last to arrive at the stands, he’s stuck next to their excitable wannabe ace and is paying the price for it. 

“God, everyone’s so noisy,” Shirabu complains, looking back at Hinata’s brother and the other Karasuno boys. “Is this what it’s like in the cheer section? I need ear plugs.”

His comment goes ignored. “HINATAAA!” Goshiki cheers again, waving wildly as Hinata gets back into position. “That was so cool? How did Aone do that? Hinata looks shocked. Look at Dateko, they’re terrified!” 

“That was all Aone,” Semi comments, tapping his lip. “I mean, Hinata scored, but that was a hell of a pass. Aone’s some kind of a beast to pull off a kick like that.”

“No, no, no,” Yunohama argues excitedly, shaking Semi by the shoulder. “Did you see the way Hinata ran for it? Hinata’s the one making Aone look good. She had to sprint the whole field to catch up to Aone’s pass, it was going too far.”

“An assist,” Shirabu corrects them absently, resting his chin in his palm and scrolling through his phone. “It’s an assist for the teammate that passes to the scorer. There’s so few points in this game, they have to give credit to everyone involved just to make up stats,” he scoffs. It was kinda funny that a defender and a goalkeeper were able to do what their attacking players couldn’t... It almost makes the strikers look bad, Shirabu thinks, eyeing Shiratorizawa’s #05, who looked kind of grumpy now. He looks back down at his phone and dismisses the thought.

Still scrolling through his phone, Shirabu misses the looks exchanged behind him. 

“Okay….How do you know that?” Semi asks suspiciously, reaching past Yunohama to nudge Shirabu. “I thought you didn’t like soccer.”

There’s the slightest hesitation before Shirabu answers. “It’s the most popular sport in the world,” he says dryly, pocketing his phone with a sneer. “I know some things about it.” 

“Sounds fake,” Kawanishi deadpans. Shirabu contemplates murder. 

“Really, Shirabu,” Semi pushes, leaning down with his brow furrowed. “Did you play in junior high or something?”

“Hell no,” the younger setter refutes, lip curling in revulsion. “You think I’d ever roll around in grass like that?” He remembers the sliding tackle from Shiratorizawa’s #13. She was covered in grass stains now, ugh. Semi just stares harder at him. Shirabu glares back at him, but the gray-haired boy doesn’t let up. 

Shirabu looks away first. 

“My dad likes soccer,” he says, growing more disgruntled with every word. “I’ll watch with him if I’m not busy.”

Semi’s mouth opens in a small ‘o’. “Really?” He wonders, almost startled by the revelation.

Of their second-year teammates, Kawanishi is by far the quietest, but as it turns out, Semi knows nothing about Shirabu either. At least he sees Kawanishi in the dorms and in study groups—but Shirabu was a commuter student, like Tendou and Hinata. The only way to coerce him into hanging out with the team casually is to lure him over with Ushijima’s presence.

Yunohama wails. “Shirabu-kun, why would you keep that to yourself? I’ve been trying to learn about soccer things all week!” He gripes. “You could’ve helped me out!”

“We have technology,” Shirabu gives him a sardonic look. “Just search it online. It’s not complicated.”

“It is complicated! They use all these weird terms and nicknames and I don’t know any of it,” Yuno complains. “Like, what the hell is a CR7? A car model?”

Shirabu’s mouth twitches. “CR7 is a nickname for a famous soccer player,” he can’t help but reply. “It’s Spanish or Portuguese or something. I’m not gonna try to pronounce it for your sake.”

“Ok, what’s tiki-taka?” Yuno presses. He looks ready to take out a notepad and scribbling notes. Semi snorts, finding the word funny. 

Shirabu groans. “Go ask Utsugi.”

“Ahhh,” Yunohama hangs his head. “That’s what Hinata said too, but I don’t know how to talk to her! She’ll just think I’m an idiot. I don’t think I can do it. Like, I’m just a second year, why would she even look my way…”

Yuno’s teammates automatically begin to tune him out, familiar with his downward spiral of unrequited love at this point. It’s hard to believe it’s been less than a week since he became aware of Utsugi’s existence.

“I’m so proud of Yui!” Tendou shuffles down the bench—squishing Reon into Yuno into Semi—in order to steer the conversation away from Yunohama’s pity party. “Did you know that one of the reasons she started playing as a goalie instead of a striker is because she could clear the ball so easily? She’s been worried about doing crappy goal kicks since coming back as a starter, but it looks like she kicks even farther now!”

“Why do you remember all that?” Shirabu huffs, growing suspicious. “Don’t tell me you’re pining after some soccer girl too, what the hell’s going on?”

Tendou just blows a raspberry at his junior and calls him a spoilsport, neatly dodging the question. 

Semi glares at Shirabu, astonished by his hypocrisy. “Says the guy that knows all the soccer rules. Are you listening to yourself?”

“I know a lot of stuff, about everything,” Shirabu replies haughtily. “Who cares?”

“I care,” Goshiki interjects, smiling at Tendou encouragingly, “Aone-senpai seems really cool! Hinata really looks up to her!”

“Literally,” Yunohama muses. “Man, that Aone is a giant.”

Tendou clears his throat loudly. “Yui is the best player they have,” he says, grinning sharply at the back of Yunohama’s head. Kawanishi is the only one to notice. Then Tendou pats Ushijima’s leg to get his attention. “Ne, ne, didn’t Yui say something to us about Natsu the other day…?”

“Utsugi and Aone let Natsu play like an attacker while she’s on defense,” Ushijima answers easily, drawing all eyes to their stoic captain. “Because she’ll play any position they need.” He pauses thoughtfully, as if he’s about to say something poignant, but then he concludes his thought with, “She’s very fast for her size.” 

“Despite the twig legs,” Tendou chirps, winking at Goshiki. 

Shirabu wonders if he stumbled into an alternate dimension. Ushijima Wakatoshi, discussing soccer strategy? With Tendou and Aone Yui? When did that happen? Did he like Hinata that much? Why?

“It looks like they’re marking Hinata now,” Goshiki interrupts, his attention back on the game. “Man, she’s moving around a lot. She really does like to run, look—”

They watch her break away from Dateko’s #07 marking her, moving straight down the sideline. She doesn’t call for the ball, but the Dateko girl clearly doesn’t want to risk leaving her open and is forced to follow her closely. That ends up widening the gap between players in Dateko’s half of the field. 

“Oh, hey, look at #05,” Semi says suddenly, as a Shiratorizawa player passes to her. Shirabu recognizes her: Yamane Erina, a very popular and loud second-year girl. “She’s got so much space to—” The ball rockets towards the goal, skimming past keeper’s fingertips.”—oh,” he wheezes, suddenly wordless. 

The crowd roars as Shiratorizawa earns their second goal in the blink of an eye.

“YA-MA-NE! YA-MA-NE!” Students chant the name of the vengeful #05 striker. Yamane Erina screeches right back at the crowd, high-fiving her teammates aggressively; a sharp difference from the shell-shocked look on Natsu’s face from her goal.

“That was quick!” Goshiki whistles, cheering again. “I almost missed it! Wow! Go Yamane!”

Shirabu shakes his head. It’s only been ten minutes since Hinata’s goal. “Dateko is done.”

“Eh? But there’s still so much time,” Goshiki points out, confused. “It’s still the first half.”

“Two goals in ten minutes is a lot for soccer,” Yunohama muses. “Look at the other team. They’re crushed. They could make a comeback, but not with the momentum in our favor like this.”

“You’ve got that right,” Semi grins. “Utsugi is brutal. She’s not letting anyone near her goalie again.”

Already? Kimura wonders, watching the light fade from her teammates’ eyes. You’re already giving up? You’re all okay with this?

Yes, Shiratorizawa was the stronger team. They were favored for Nationals, their alumni still play at a professional level, they got invited to every tournament imaginable for high school athletes across the country. So what? So what? This could be Dateko’s first step towards qualifying for Nationals. It’s happened in the past. They could do it again. 

Everyone seemed so excited about it before. But when we get down to it, putting in the effort for every play, why do we fall short?

There’s another ten minutes left in the first half. Then, only five minutes. The time flies away, along with their chances of ever getting a goal. Attack after attack. Their defense is tight, but they can only do so much. 

As the whistle signals for half-time, Kimura almost wishes they could end it all right there. 2-nil is a painful but respectable loss. But they had another 45 minutes and Dateko was just... treading water.

I’m surrounded by quitters, Kimura realizes, jogging off the field much faster than her teammates. They drag their feet, fiddling with their hair ties or pulling at their socks. They might as well go frolic in the grass, picking daisies. That’s how much this game means to them. 

“Don’t worry too much, ladies,” the captain says evenly, patting her face with a towel. “It’s only our third game. Plus, this team is favored for—”

Quitters are even worse than losers. 

“Don’t you say it,” Kimura cuts off Captain Noriaki, lifting her head to give her a look full of venom. “Don’t you tell me they were bound to win, that we were meant to lose.” 

“...Kimura,” the captain says warningly.

“This game counts, every game counts!” Kimura snaps, dropping her water bottle. “I’m doing my best out there, so where are the strikers? Where are the passing plays? If you’re not playing to win, you shouldn’t be playing at all!”

Noriaki’s eyes blaze. 

The coach coughs lightly. “Reo-chan,” she calls for Kimura. “Calm down. I know this is upsetting—”

“Coach, I think Kimura needs more than just half-time to cool down. Yuma,” Noriaki turns to one of the other first years on the bench. Kimura freezes. No. No way. “You want to be a midfielder too, right? We’ll sub you in for Kimura after the whistle, you should get a chance to play.”

What?

What? “C-Captain, I can still—”

The captain’s chilly gaze lands on Kimura again, her expression placid. “I saw your last few plays. Especially against #21, you’re getting sloppy. I told you we don’t want a wildcard.”

“She was incredible in junior high,” Hirao Chika hurriedly explains to her team, huddled around their bench. “Kimura’s been able to do that long-throw for a while now, and it’s hard to know when she’ll do it. Not to mention she’s an aggressive player in general. I didn’t realize she chose Dateko, or I would’ve mentioned it sooner!”

“Not a problem. I don’t think we need to worry about it,” Utsugi murmurs, eyeing the far bench where the opposing team is sitting. Sound carries on an open field like this. Dateko’s #07 is yelling at her own coach and captain for benching her.

The other girls follow her gaze and grimace. 

“Well that’s awkward to watch,” Yuika chirps brightly, passing a towel to Sakaguchi. “They look like Natsu and Rumi after the Johzenji game!”

“At least we saved it for after the game,” Utsugi clicks her tongue in disapproval. “We’re just getting warmed up, and they’re falling apart.” She’s a little put out by this, but if Dateko was losing their shape, Shiratorizawa would do their best to pick them to shreds. I want two more goals in the next half, Rumi thinks to herself.

“Oh,” Hirao squeaks, cringing in sympathy as Kimura Reo tries to reject a pinny from a teammate. “I-I guess she hasn’t changed much...”

“S-So,” Natsu huffs, taking a break from chugging her water, “Should I, uh, expect that #07 to keep following me around, or—” she pants, “Or can I be switched to, I don’t know, center midfield?” She plops onto the grass by Ariyoshi. “She blocked my run like three times, ugh. She can’t mark me if I’m in the center, right? I should just take center mid—”

“You’re on defense,” Aone and Utsugi say simultaneously. Natsu groans, falling backwards against Ariyoshi’s legs. 

“Sorry,” Aone adds politely. “You work well with Sakaguchi and Yamane on the wing.”

“Yeah,” Yamane adds curtly, speaking with a hair tie in her mouth as she fixes her ponytail. It makes her bare her teeth like an animal as she looks at Natsu. “And don’t forget to pass to me, Freckles, before you get stuffed by #07. Or whoever replaces her.”

“Wha—?” Natsu watches her, suddenly feeling wrong-footed as she touches her freckled cheek in dismay. “Wait. Are you talking about the first goal? You weren’t open!”

“I woulda gotten it if you’d passed,” Yamane grumbles, tightening her hair tie. 

“But I scored,” Natsu shoots Aone and Utsugi a helpless look. They do not help. In fact, they suddenly look aged. It wasn’t like Erina hadn’t scored at all, she scored just minutes after Natsu did.“C’mon Yamane-san, what would you have done if I had passed it to you with two defenders on you?”

“I woulda scored!” Yamane declares stubbornly. 

Masuya rolls her eyes. Yamane went through the same rant with her in the middle of the Johzenji game, when Masuya scored their only goal. Yamane just likes being the center of attention. “Let it go, Hinata,” she advises from her spot on the bench. 

“But I sco—Aah!” Natsu squawks as Ariyoshi kicks her off her legs. “Yoshiiii,” she whines, “What was that for?” 

“Your sweaty back was touching my legs,” the first year mutters, dark eyes narrowed. “I’m not your chair. If you’re so tired from running away from your mark, sub out.”

“I’M NOT TIRED,” Natsu leaps to her feet in a flash. “I’M TOTALLY FINE.”

Aone hums. “Take it easy,” she advises.

Utsugi adds on, “You don’t need to be open for every play.”

“I’m not tired,” Natsu repeats, much more subdued under the scrutiny of Aone and Utsugi. Her legs are still tingly from running, but she’s caught her breath now. “I…” The captains continue to stare her down. “Okay. Yeah. Of course, I’ll take it slow.” She bows.

Ariyoshi squirts her with a water bottle, making Natsu yelp again while their teammates snicker. “What? You needed to cool off.” Natsu makes sure to shake out her hair like a dog, flicking water back onto Yoshi and Yokoyama.

The second half is a blur for Natsu. The tricky #07 is subbed off at the first chance Dateko gets, and Natsu is marked differently by a #19. While #19 is just as good at defending, she doesn’t keep up with Natsu, and she doesn’t do any crazy long throws for her strikers. That was a #07 specialty, it seemed, and without her on the field, the game goes exactly as Utsugi wants.

It’s… not as fun without #07. Natsu still makes combination passes to Sakaguchi and Yamane, but she tries to keep Utsugi's advice in mind and doesn’t make as many fast runs to avoid the girl marking her. She doesn’t really get how she can ‘take it easy’ in the middle of a match, but she doesn’t feel as nervous since #07 isn’t playing.

Yamane earns a second goal, and Sugasawa Yuika scores in the 80th minute. Dateko’s defense finally falls apart after that, fouling Sakaguchi and giving Shiratorizawa a free kick right at the end of the match. They nearly get a fifth goal that way.

Then the whistle blows, and the Dateko keeper slumps, letting the ball drop from her gloved hands. Game over.

4-0, Shiratorizawa. An indisputable win, just like the coach wanted. 

Natsu pants, wiping her face with the corner of her jersey as her teammates howl with joy. Her legs are buzzing as she forces herself into a slow jog towards the bench, letting Iwabuchi and Nakajima throw their arms around her. Yamane howls about how close she came to getting her first hat trick. 

The people on the bleachers cheer loudly, and Natsu finally lets herself look past the field to see them. The stands aren’t full anymore, but there’s a long line of people along the fence now. Shouyou is there with four others in Karasuno uniforms, shouting for her. 

“AONE!” The girls on the bench squeal for the goalkeeper. Oga throws herself into Aone’s arms, and stays there. Then Nagano leaps for the keeper too, and Aone catches her with her free arm. Sugita cackles and vaults onto Aone’s back.

Natsu stares in wonder: Aone is carrying three whole teammates with ease. 

“Get off my goalie,” Utsugi yells half-heartedly. “We need to line up, come on—“

“RUUUUMIIIII!” Several male voices chorus her name suddenly. The captain goes still as a statue. “R-U-M-I! WE LOVE YOU, RUMI!”

Natsu can’t help but burst into laughter with her teammates when they see third years from the boys’ soccer team, still wearing their own game uniforms, spelling out ‘RUMI’ with their bodies like poorly-organized cheerleaders. The English ‘R’ is backwards. Captain Yoshino is the one directing them, waving his warm-up jacket in a circle and whooping.

Utsugi is mortified.

They switch their positions to roughly spell out ‘YUI’ next with slightly more success. “YUUUUUUIII! Y-U-I! WE LOVE YOU, YUI!”

Aone is busy trying to carry three teammates all the way to the bench, and doesn’t acknowledge them. The captain, on the other hand, stares at the boys along the fence, almost incoherent in her rage. Her face is as red as her ribbon hair tie. “Yoshino! Watanabe! SCRAM!”

Coach Sameshima blocks her from physically chasing the boys off the grass. “Time to thank the referees, Captain,” she reminds the third year, steering her around. “You too, Yui-chan.”

“Yes ma’am.” Aone shakes off all the girls at once, letting them fall in a heap of sweaty limbs. Ariyoshi tries to dump the rest of her water bottle on Sugita, and gets the bottle confiscated by Aone. 

“Everyone, quit puttering around and line up!” The coach adds, and eventually all the girls fall in line, though there’s some screeching from Ariyoshi when Aone starts to drink from her water.

They bow to the referee and linesmen, and shake hands and exchange high-fives with the opposing team. 

Natsu wants to comment on #07’s throw-ins when they come across each other, but by the time she comes face to face with Kimura, she loses her edge. Kimura looks so mad. “Good game,” she says anyway.

“Was it?” The midfielder replies, her eyes suddenly boring into Natsu. 

“You played well!” Natsu insists, coming to a stop in front of Kimura Reo instead of moving onto another player. “I’m Hinata, by the way. You’re hard to keep up with! And I don’t know how you can do those throws—”

“Yeah, well, it didn’t get us anywhere,” Kimura interrupts, her jaw clenched. Her eyes dart away to Hirao, standing nearby.

“Not this time, no,” Natsu agrees cautiously. “But we’ll have to keep an eye out for you, Kimura-san.”

Her expression is unreadable. “Next time, Hinata,” the Dateko girl says quietly, a stark difference from her smugness from earlier. Natsu would’ve expected her to blow up again, like she seemed to do during halftime. Instead, she’s like a calm pool of water. “Next time, you won’t keep up with me at all.”

Natsu is alarmed again. “O-Oh?” 

Kimura stalks off before Natsu can string together a sentence. Hirao draws near, picking at the hem of her shirt. “She talks big for someone that just lost,” Natsu comments, hands on her hips. 

“I wouldn’t underestimate her,” Hirao answers softly. “She’s unpredictable.”

“But that’s what makes her so cool!” Natsu is still staring after #07. Kimura was strange, but Natsu can’t deny she had more fun in the first half than the second. “I’m looking forward to playing against her again.”

“Me too,” Hirao admits. “I mean! Once Aone’s graduated, o-of course!”

Natsu pats her back, silently assuring Hirao she won’t tell the third years about wanting to replace them. “I get it, Hirao. Once I’m captain, you’ll be my main goalie, you know!”

Hirao peers down at her, looking faint. 

Utsugi turns to her team, no longer red-faced. “Alright, let’s get this over with and thank the idiots that came to watch.”

Natsu and her teammates approach the fence, lining up uniformly. Rumi stands at the end, and yells, “THANK YOU FOR COMING!” They bow deeply, echoing the captain’s words. 

“YOU’RE WELCOME!” Yoshino and his teammates scream back cheekily. If looks could kill, Rumi would have eliminated at least half of Yoshino’s team by now. Natsu doesn’t mind them, though. She’s actually kind of delighted that Ideguchi was there too, another friend from homeroom. 

“You guys didn’t show up until the second half!” Someone in the crowd calls them out. “Fake fans!”

“Didn’t you lose today, Yoshino?!” Another person adds tauntingly. Natsu is pretty certain it was Tendou who yelled that time, but she can’t see him now that everyone is standing and moving around to exit the stands.

“HEY! Who said that?!” Yoshino yells back at the crowd, quickly immersing himself in a shouting match with several other students.

“Nacchan! Nacchan!” Shouyou waves her over. “Great job! You were amazing out there!!”

Beaming, Natsu jogs over to him and immediately launches herself at Shouyou. “We won!! Shouyou, Shouyou, I—“

“—Scored a goal!” They shout simultaneously, laughing. Shouyou swings her around once before releasing her. She’s definitely too sweaty for a longer hug, even from Shouyou who didn’t mind it.

“You were great, Nacchan!” Shouyou’s buzzcut teammate exclaims, holding up his hands. 

“Thank you, Tanaka-san!” Natsu gives him a double high-five, returning his grin. She looks past him to the other two students she recognizes. “Yamaguchi-kun, Kageyama-kun,” she greets them. “Thanks for coming!”

“Right. C-Con-Congrats,” Kageyama nods tightly. 

“You looked really cool, Hinata-san,” Yamuguchi adds shyly, holding up a thumbs up. “That goal was amazing.”

“Yeah!” Another student interrupts, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He’s the only one Natsu doesn’t recognize, but he has gelled back hair and a tuft of bleached bangs sticking up from his forehead. He’s beaming at Natsu like she’s some kind of goddess, though, and it’s beginning to fluster her.

“Thanks,” Natsu says anyway, high-fiving him. “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you?”

“We’ve never met!” He exclaims. He points a thumb back at himself. “I’m Nishinoya Yuu, Karasuno’s Guardian Angel!”

Guardian Angel…? “Oh!” Natsu perks up, surprising Nishinoya. “The libero! Shouyou mentioned you!” 

“Yes!!” Nishinoya confirms, delighted. “Just call me Noya, it’s nice to meet you Nacchan! You were so freaking cool out there! When your goalie kicked the ball and it went like BAM! And you were already there for it like ZWOOSH and then WHAM!”

Natsu nods excitedly as Noya describes each goal, startled to realize how much he’d been paying attention. He’s mainly communicating through sound effects, but she mostly understands what he’s saying anyway. “Yeah! And then Kurishima’s pass—she’s #12, the blonde—that was the deciding factor, she ripped through their defense, it was like threading a needle to get to Sugasawa!”

“That was sick!” Noya agrees. 

“It was!” Natsu laughs. “Oh, Yamaguchi-kun,” she says suddenly, startling the green-haired boy. “Please thank your mom for me! She drove you all here, ne? It’s very kind of you and her.”

“O-Oh, yeah, of course, ah,” he scrambles to respond, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “She’ll be back to pick us up soon. Good game, Nacch—Hinata-san,” he catches himself quickly. “Sorry.”

She waves away his concern. Shouyou’s friends always call her Nacchan because Shouyou never introduces her properly. “Thank you, again! Oh! Hirao got you passes, right? Good, good, ne, Shouyou, have you met my other teammates? Look—ah,” Natsu stalls, seeing the Dateko boys approaching her. “Hey! Takanobu’s friends!”

“Hinata!!” Kogane runs at her with both hands raised for a high-five. “You were so cool!”

“Th-thank you, Kogane-san!” Natsu is pushed back a bit by the force of the high-five, but she tries to take it in stride. 

“Congrats,” Sakunami adds gently, glancing between her and Shouyou. “You must be her brother?”

“Yeah,” Shouyou agrees cautiously, eyeing Kogane skeptically. “Hello….”

“You’re on Dateko’s team?” Nishinoya cuts in, eyes narrowed. “The volleyball team? What position? I’m a libero. Are you a first year?”

“We both are!” Kogane answers, throwing a too-long arm around Sakunami’s shoulder. “You’re volleyball players? What school??”

“Karasuno,” Tanaka says woodenly. “I guess we’ll see you at Interhigh, huh?”

“Only if you make it far enough!” Kogane points out blithely. 

“Haaah?!” Nishinoya steps forward, right up to Kogane. “Or maybe you’ll be eliminated in the first round, and you’ll just watch us from the stands, huh?!”

Natsu pulls her gaze back to Shouyou, shooting him a quizzical look. You said you wouldn’t do this, she thinks accusingly. 

You didn’t saying anything about Dateko teams! It’s not my fault! Shouyou thinks back. 

“So! Nacchan!” Shouyou says loudly, drawing the attention of the Karasuno boys. “Can I meet your teammates? You were saying something about them?!”

“Oh yeah!” Tanaka straightens up out of the strange hunched stance he’s taken. “Let’s meet the girls, Noya,” he elbows the shorter boy roughly, snapping him out of it. “Who’s that pretty girl, #06? And the cool one that slide-tackled a lot!”

Natsu isn’t sure this is any better than picking a fight with Dateko boys. Perhaps Tanaka has a death wish.

“Uh, I’m friends with Ariyoshi, the slide-tackle one,” Natsu explains hesitantly, throwing Tanaka a look as she leads them back to the field. She specifically does not talk about #06, the ‘pretty girl’ Tanaka mentioned—Sugasawa Yuika, a third year, is really pretty but she gets very uncomfortable when approached by boys. Ariyoshi was easily annoyed, but Natsu has found that she’s friendlier than she looks. “Kogane-san, Sakunami-san, I’ll see you later! Say goodbye to Takanobu and Fu-uh, Futabuki? Futakuchi? Crap, I don’t remember now.”

“Futakuchi,” Sakunami supplies kindly. “I’ll tell them. Your next Dateko game will be on our campus, right? I’ll try to watch you again.”

Natsu beams. “Really? That’d be awesome! I’ll look for you!”

“Y-yeah,” he nods vigorously, and Kogane waves back as Natsu drags her brother to the Shiratorizawa bench. 

“So, you already met Hirao, right? In the yellow shirt?” Natsu asks Shouyou. “You got visitor passes, thank god, otherwise Rumi would’ve kicked you guys out!”

“Actually, Shirabu got us passes,” Kageyama says, glancing back at the bleachers. “Shiratorizawa’s setter...”

“Eh?” She turns back to look at Shouyou and Kageyama, laughing a little. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope!” Her brother has a pinched look on his face, similar to the look Shirabu makes most of the time. “Shirabu Kenjirou. He’s your friend, right?”

“...Yeah, I guess we’re friends, but he’s...” Natsu shakes her head. “Goshiki must’ve dragged him over. Shirabu is all like,” she presses her fringe down at an angle, imitating Shirabu’s bangs, “‘Volleyball is the only sport that matters, shut up about soccer, Hinata,’ y’know?”

“No, no, no,” Shouyou disagrees while Nishinoya laughs. “He was more like, ‘I don’t even know Hinata Natsu, what’s a soccer ball?’” His impression is only slightly more accurate.

“Oh! So you did meet him!” Natsu snickers, covering her mouth. “Don’t mind him, he’s always crabby. His teammates are nicer, did you see them?”

She turns her attention back to the stands, resolving to find Goshiki and Kawanishi once Shouyou’s met her team. 

“Ah,” Shouyou hums, “I could see some of them in the stands, but I figured you would introduce us?”

“Sure thing,” Natsu agrees, distracted. “Oi! Yokoyama, Yoshi—come meet my brother!”

The two first years look up from where they’re collecting water bottles. Ariyoshi frowns a bit, but Yokoyama seems intrigued. “Oh, wow, you really do look alike,” she comments. “I’m Yokoyama. Thanks for cheering us on, guys.”

“So,” Yoshi begins ominously, placing the last water bottle in the carrier box. A chill spreads through the air, stealing the levity from them. All eyes turn to Ariyoshi Saori. “Which one of you is the strongest?” She asks the Karasuno boys point-blank.

“Huh?” Yamaguchi blinks at her. Natsu does too.

“I am!” Shouyou, Kageyama, Tanaka, and Nishinoya all shout. Tanaka is the loudest, though.

“Uh huh,” she eyes them flatly. Then she pushes the water bottle carrier at Tanaka. Her voice doesn’t change, and she doesn’t even try for a smile. “Senpai, do you mind carrying this for me then?” 

“I DON’T MIND,” Tanaka clamors, taking the carrier with gusto. “I-I can carry a lot of things!!”

“Hey!” Noya waves his arms, “I can carry stuff too! CALL ME SENPAI TOO.”

Natsu slaps her forehead. “Yoshi…”

“That’s perfect,” Yoshi says cooly, handing him a mesh bag of soccer balls. “There’s so much to carry back to the clubhouse. Nice hair,” she tacks on, and Nishinoya glows. 

“Yours too!” He grins. “It looks cool!”

“Thanks,” she replies, flicking the bleached tips of her own hair out of her face. “The clubhouse is at the top of that hill, you see it? You can leave these at the door.”

Natsu and Yokoyama shake their heads. They were both accustomed to Yoshi’s many tricks to worm her way out of clean-up duties, and there was no way that—

Natsu’s jaw drops when Tanaka and Nishinoya sprint for the clubhouse. “Wait, you….! Oh, they’re fast.” She sighs. “I can’t believe this.”

“I’m faster than them… Yoshi-san, I can help too,” Shouyou lifts his hand again, and Natsu smacks the back of his head. “Ow!”

“Ariyoshi!” Utsugi snaps, looking between her and the boys running up the hill. “Why do they have our stuff? You’re supposed to be on clean-up duty.”

Yoshi is completely unrepentant when she replies, “I’m just being efficient, Captain.”

Utsugi rolls her eyes. “They better not break anything,” she huffs. 

“Hey, hey, you’re Captain Utsugi?” Shouyou perks up, his eyes wide with awe. Utsugi is shorter than him, and Shouyou clearly noticed. “I’m Hinata Shouyou, hi!”

Utsugi blinks at him, and then Natsu, and then back to Shouyou. With all the ferociousness of a fieldmouse, she nods at Natsu’s brother. “Hi, Shouyou-kun.”

Hang on, why is she so polite? Natsu wonders. She’s never polite to me! 

“You were great out there today!” Shouyou exclaims, hands gesturing crazily. “You’re so strong, even against that #11, who was all like zwoosh! down the field! And then there was that pass to the left side, to the blonde girl, it looked too hard but it landed right where it needed to and…”

Now, Natsu is outraged. He didn’t say any of that about Natsu’s plays. “Am I invisible now?” She mutters. What’s exponentially worse, however, is that Utsugi is letting him speak, listening smugly. Natsu is beginning to question her reality. Both her brother and captain ignore her entirely, chatting like old friends.

“You did play well,” Yamaguchi says tentatively, offering her another tentative smile. “I could see you running up and down a lot... Um. Aren’t you tired now?”

Oh, Yamaguchi is definitely her favorite Karasuno crow. Natsu grins. “I’m okay! I get a break whenever the ball isn’t on my side of the field, so it’s fine.”

Kageyama shuffles closer, looking equally baffled by how well Shouyou is getting along with Captain Utsugi, and somewhat fearful of the rest of her team milling around. “You and Hinata were just born with some crazy athletic ability, huh,” he says flatly, squinting at the painted sidelines on the grass like it offends him. “Why don’t you play volleyball?”

“Hm, well,” Natsu leans in conspiratorially, “I’m kinda short for a volleyball player.”

Yamaguchi snorts, looking back at Shouyou and wondering if sisters were always so ruthless. Natsu looked about the same height as her twin, if not taller. 

“But you can jump,” Kageyama continues seriously. “And in the women's league, the net is twenty centimeters lower. Physically, you and Hinata are at virtually the same level right now, but your vertical jump would give you an edge.”

Natsu stares at him, bewildered. Yamaguchi doesn’t look much better. Kageyama continues to watch her in silent anticipation, a small wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. 

Shouyou, I thought you were exaggerating when you told me about Kageyama.

“Mm…” she gives herself a moment to really think about how to answer him. Of course, Natsu could go on and on about why soccer is the greatest, and why she’s kind of horrified Kageyama would suggest such a thing, but… hm… Kageyama Tobio is a volleyball nerd, according to Shouyou. He wouldn’t understand, unless she can explain in terms of, metaphorically speaking, tall nets, squeaky courts, and the smell of salonpas. 

It’s not hard to figure out what would get the point across to Kageyama the quickest.

“You know,” Natsu begins meaningfully, “By that logic, Shouyou should switch to soccer because his height wouldn’t be a disadvantage in that sport. Like you said, we’ve both got the athleticism. Stamina is key in soccer, and Shouyou’s got loads of it.”

Yamaguchi’s jaw drops. Kageyama looks like he might set her on fire. “He—should—not,” Kageyama says through gritted teeth. “I would kill him.” 

Natsu laughs out loud. “Uwahh! I’m joking, lighten up!” She pats him on the back roughly, as if it might jolt him out of his death stare. “See what I mean? You can’t just point out stuff like that! Soccer is my sport, it’s my favorite thing! ‘Why don’t you play volleyball?’ What a silly question. Because I don’t love it as much as soccer!”

“...Ah,” Kageyama glares at the grass, saying nothing more. Yamaguchi gives a helpless little chuckle. 

“Hinata-san, would your brother really be better at soccer?” Yamaguchi wonders, and his eyes look innocent but Natsu kind of suspects he’s egging Kageyama on. “Because—“

“No, he would not,” Kageyama cuts him off sternly, as if the mere thought was heresy. “End of discussion.”

Natsu cackles again, elbowing the dark-haired boy. “Don’t worry! Don’t worry! He’s never gonna give it up, Kageyama-kun. I think you’re stuck with Shouyou forever!”

The setter looks down at Natsu with another frown, but she gets the feeling he’s not upset. In fact, Kageyama doesn’t look like he’d mind being stuck with Shouyou at all. 

Chapter Text

“Hey Hinata,” Kawanishi Taichi waves. Natsu approaches, dragging along an identical ginger and a taller, black-haired Karasuno student. A third student trails behind them, freckled and with hair that gleamed dark green in the afternoon light. 

“Kawanishi-san! You’re here!” Hinata looks delighted. 

“Mm,” he agrees, holding out his fist. “Good game,” Taichi intones, and Hinata beams like a supernova as she fist-bumps him. His eyes cut to the side, to the identical ginger. “This is Shouyou?”

Hinata’s brother looks a little lost, shoulder hunched up to his ears. “Eh, heh, y-yeah! That’s me!” He seems to gain a second wind out of nowhere, straightening up defiantly. “Hinata Shouyou! Who’re you?!”

Taichi inclines his head politely. “Kawanishi Taichi,” he says shortly. 

Shouyou nods his head vigorously, eyeing him up and down. Taichi just watches him, caught between curiosity and reticence. He’s been wondering about Hinata’s brother for a while, but Taichi wasn’t that great with new people.

Hinata Shouyou continues to scrutinize Taichi, mouth twisting into a slight frown. Taichi frowns right back, his uncertainty increasing by the second. He could read Natsu pretty well, but Shouyou—Shouyou was a new mystery. 

Natsu sighs loud enough to end their staring contest, and Taichi blinks at her. “Why’re you guys just staring at each other?” She asks, exasperated. “You’re so weird. Look, this is Kageyama, and that’s Yamaguchi. Kawanishi-san is a second-year, and a middle blocker. Yamaguchi and Shouyou are middleblockers too, and Kageyama is a setter. Let’s all get along, okay?” She pauses, rubbing her neck. “Tanaka and Nishinoya are here too, but I think Yoshi has them running laps or something, I dunno…”

Yamaguchi gives Taichi a tentative little wave. Kageyama stares at him with dark, intense eyes. Shouyou fidgets next to Natsu, looking like he has a million things to say. 

Taichi decides that he likes Yamaguchi the most. He’s quiet, and looks polite. 

“Hey, where’s Hoshino?” Natsu pipes up, sticking her head around Taichi like he might be blocking her view. As if the basketball team’s first-string shooting guard isn’t a giant person, impossible to miss. “I thought he’d be with you.”

“He’s getting food,” Taichi replies. “Actually, that reminds me… I don’t know why, but Semi asked me to give this to you.” He pulls out a chilled can of Calpico from his bag and holds it out for Natsu. “Not sure why he thinks you’d be thirsty, there’s a whole water cooler… Hinata? You okay?”

Natsu stares at the soft drink like it’s a live grenade. “Huh?” She looks up at Taichi suspiciously, and then back at the bottle, making no move to accept it. “What?”

Taichi glances at Shouyou questioningly. Shouyou shrugs, equally bewildered. “Ehh? You’re blushing, Nacchan!” Her brother pokes at her cheek, and she instinctively slaps him away. 

“I’m—totally fine,” Natsu says, wiping her face with the collar of her shirt vigorously.

Shouyou’s gaze darts between the soft drink and his sister’s curious reaction. “...if you’re not gonna take it, I will,” he says at last, wisely avoiding any further questioning.

“...Hnnn.”

The ginger boy perks up. “That means yes,” he looks at Taichi with wide puppy eyes. “Please?”

With a shrug, Taichi tosses the drink to Shouyou. 

Natsu mutters something unintelligible, still mortified. Then she lifts her head, shaking herself a little to clear her thoughts. “I’ll… thank Semi for that later,” Natsu promises grimly.

Clearly he’s missing some subtext here, but Taichi thinks he would rather live without it. “Anyway. You played really well, Hinata. Even Shirabu said so, even though he won’t admit it.”

Natsu gives him a grateful smile, the pink slowly fading from her cheeks. “Thanks, Kawanishi-san. It means a lot to me…” she rubs her face again, as if she could just wipe away any traces of embarrassment. “So. Where’s Goshiki? He didn’t have to leave too, did he?”

Ah. How to explain? Taichi shakes his head. “Sorry, Hinata. He’s looking for Yamagata’s phone.”

She looks up at him, mouthing the words skeptically. “O-Oh? Okay, then. Sure… I guess…” Natsu trails off, still peering at Kawanishi. Suddenly, she huffs. “Actually, no, what does that mean?!”

Taichi sighs. “I’m serious. Earlier, Shirabu refused to help him, so now...”

“Oh, yeah!” Shouyou agrees, rubbing his chin. “Weird-bangs setter ignored some guy asking for help searching for his phone!”

“Yamagata misplaces his phone a lot,” Kawanishi explains apologetically. “And I mean a lot, a lot. He’s like the opposite of a kleptomaniac. Since the second-years know about it, we refuse to help him anymore.”

“So Goshiki offered to help out Yamagata-senpai since Shirabu wouldn’t help him,” she deadpans. 

“There was no time to warn him off,” Taichi apologizes. 

Natsu slaps her forehead. “Why is everyone so gullible today?” she gripes. 

Remembering Shirabu and Semi discussing Hinata’s ‘older brother’ in the stands, Kawanishi can’t help but agree. “Must be something in the air,” he muses sympathetically. “Goshiki might be gone for a while. He thought your goal was really cool though. Shirabu got a headache listening to him yell about it.”

That brings a grin back to her face. “Poor Shirabu,” she laughs. “Ah, I guess I’ll find him later. What about the rest of your team?”

He actually doesn’t know where Semi and Ohira went, but Yunohama was trying to flirt with Captain Utsugi, and Tendou and Ushijima were hunting down Vice Captain Aone. Shirabu ran off to pretend he never stayed to watch the whole soccer game, and Goshiki was sacrificed as Yamagato’s assistant phone-finder of the day. Taichi figures Natsu doesn’t need the details on any of that.

“Ahh… time has… scattered us to the four winds,” he shrugs, purposefully ignoring the baffled look Natsu aims at him. “They all thought you did well, though.”

“Huh?” Shouyou leans over to quietly ask Kageyama if he understood what Taichi was saying. Kageyama grumbles something vague in response.

Fortunately, Natsu brushes off Taichi’s ambiguous answer. “That’s alright. I can always talk to them at lunch. Well, if they’re not here… oh! Kawanishi-kun, is it okay if I let these guys see the volleyball court? Only, I have to get back to my team soon, so I can’t escort them.”

“We have visitor passes now,” Kageyama points out. “So why can’t we go on by ourselves?”

“Ah,” Natsu hesitates. “Do you know where the gym is?”

When all three Karasuno boys are silent, Taichi sighs. 

“I can go with them. Practice was shortened because the girls’ team had a match…” He thinks back to the announcement, trying to recall what the assistant coach had told them about it. “Hm, I don’t remember which school is visiting, but it was an all-girls’ high school.”

“Really?” Natsu brightens up in interest. “Do you think they’re still playing?”

“I wanna watch!” Shouyou raises his hand in favor. “I mean, I’d rather see how your team plays but I’ll take what I can get! It’s been really hard for our advisor to get practice matches for us, but I think we’re gonna have one with these Tokyo schools...” 

“I wonder if it’s Shirayuri?” Natsu speaks over her brother. “That’s an all-girl school, their soccer team is one of the best in Miyagi. Wait, which Tokyo school, Shouyou?”

“I dunno, Takeda-sensei wasn’t sure if we had a spot or not,” her brother answers.

“It could be Niiyama,” Kageyama speaks up suddenly, and Taichi hums. It probably was Niiyama. 

“That’s in Miyagi, not Tokyo, dummy,” Shouyou points out.

Kageyama smacks the back of his head. “I meant the practice match, dumbass.”

“That’s what I was talking about!” Shouyou protests. “Over the school break, the practice match with a Tokyo team!”

“And I meant the practice match happening right now!” Kageyama snaps. “Niyama Girls’ High has the best volleyball team in the prefecture. Their setter was ranked second in the country last year.”

“Uwahh, Kageyama pays attention to girls’ volleyball too? I never would’ve guessed,” Shouyou exclaims, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Of course, you’re still obsessed with just the setters…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kageyama scowls at one ginger before turning to the two gingers politely. “Can we watch that match for a bit? If we have time?”

“There’s traffic,” Yamaguchi adds, glancing at his phone, “So our ride home is delayed anyway…” 

“Sure,” Taichi shrugs again. He’s beginning to like spectating. Throughout Hinata’s game, Taichi sat back and ate shrimp chips with Tomoki while Shirabu scowled about the referee’s calls. Now, he could enjoy a volleyball match and watch Hinata’s brother and his teammate bicker like an old married couple. And Tomoki would return with more snacks. “C’mon, I’ll show you the way.”

“Thank you!” Natsu squeals, clasping her hands together. “I’ll see you later!”

“Aha! It was in my locker all along!” Yamagata gives Goshiki a hard pat on the back. “Good thinking! Sorry to drag you around everywhere, but I needed someone to bounce ideas off of!”

Tsutomu bites his tongue to avoid saying something rude. “Please be more mindful in the future, senpai,” he says instead. “I should get back to the field now.”

“What do you mean? I’m always mindful!” The libero shouts after him, but Tsutomu is already out the door. 

I can’t believe I spent that much time looking for a phone and it turned out to be in the first place I told Yamagato to check! Tsutomu thinks bitterly, stepping out of the locker room at last and onto the grass. He’s at the top of the hill and can see most of the field and bleachers from his vantage point, but… hm… no ginger heads in sight… 

Tsutomu sets out towards the bleachers. Hinata’s probably still talking to her teammates down by the field. 

(Around the corner of the building, Kawanishi and the Karasuno visitors make their way towards Shiratorizawa’s gym to catch the tail-end of the Niiyama practice match. Natsu is at the clubhouse, putting away equipment.)

Though he doesn’t find Hinata, he does find the tall first-year goalkeeper. “Hirao-san!” he calls, relieved that he remembers her name. She seems like a nice girl from what Hinata has said about her. “Hey, good game,” Tsutomu says reflexively, and then immediately regrets it. 

Hirao didn’t play at all in today’s game… crap…

“O-Oh,” she startles, almost dropping her bag. “Um. Right. Goshiki-kun,” she says flatly, brow furrowed.

“I-I mean, I’m sure you’ll play in the next one?” Tsutomu tries weakly. Hirao’s lips press into a tight line, and she nods jerkily. “Sorry, I don’t mean to… Obviously Aone is a lot more… Overall it was a, as a whole, the game, good to watch, and, um…”

“Goshiki-kun,” Hirao cuts off his babble before he can dig a hole any deeper for himself. The goalie takes a slow breath, gathering herself. “Thanks for coming. Hinata went to the bleachers to find the Karasuno boys, so you should check around there first.”

Tsutomu nods furiously. “Thank you. I’ll go find her now.” Hirao nods, and begins to retreat towards the clubhouse. “And! Hirao!” He calls to her impulsively, thinking fast. She waits for him to continue, looking braced for the worst. “Next year, when you’re the main goalkeeper, I’ll… er… I just mean that next year there won’t be some nationally-ranked keeper on your team anymore, so, you know, I’m pretty sure I’ll have to congratulate you and Hinata after every game, so,” he rubs his neck sheepishly. “I’m not wrong, I’m just saying it… too early? Preemptively?”

Hirao stares at him, perplexed. “Oh,” she says faintly. “O-Okay… thank you?” This time, she sounds a bit warmer, so maybe Tsutomu didn’t completely botch it up. 

“I’ll see you later,” Tsutomu waves to her, and Hirao waves back before ducking away to follow the second-years carrying equipment. 

Next, Goshiki heads for the bleachers. But they’re mostly empty now, and not only does he not see Hinata—his whole team has vanished! How?! Why?! He stares at the vacant seats, dumbfounded, before climbing down the steps and hurrying around the stands to—run right into someone’s back.

“Oof!” Tsutomu stumbles forward, and both of them nearly topple over.

“Get a grip, will ya?” someone growls at them. 

He looks up and begins to apologize profusely once he realizes he ran into Kawanishi’s friend, the basketball player with really good hair. “Sorry! I didn’t watch where I was going!”

“No harm done,” Hoshino Tomoki replies peaceably, collecting the vending machine snacks he dropped. He isn't that one that spoke earlier. “What were you saying, Ariyoshi-san?”

Goshiki looks past Hoshino and sees a tall-ish girl in Shiratorizawa’s uniform. Her hair is dark, but the tips are bleached blonde. And she’s next to a complete stranger, a taller boy with bleached hair in a white and blue tracksuit. 

“You’re not a Dateko player,” Goshiki blurts out before Ariyoshi can answer. Dateko’s uniforms looked similar, but they were kind of teal instead of blue. Was it a Seijoh uniform?

The not-Dateko student turns a vicious glare onto Goshiki. “No, I’m not,” he grumbles. “What’s it to ya, huh?”

Hinata’s teammate—Ariyoshi?—elbows him in the ribcage and hisses at him to shut up. “Ignore him. He’s—lost. I was just telling him to leave now.”

The boy scoffs loudly. “Yeah, I wandered all the way across Miyagi and ended up at a private high school soccer game. Crazy, huh?” He stares down at Ariyoshi doggedly, as if daring her to speak. She doesn’t budge. 

What's going on here? Goshiki exchanges a questioning look with Hoshino, but the basketball player looks just as lost. The silence between the four of them stretches uncomfortably. 

“Um,” He glances pointedly at the soccer player. “Have you seen Hinata? I wanted to congratulate her for the game.”

The soccer player levels him with a frigid gaze, the disdain in her eyes on par with Shirabu when Goshiki is struggling to hit his tosses.

Oh, I just remembered what Hinata’s said about the other first-years, Tsutomu thinks to himself, Hirao is the nice teammate, and Yoshi is the one that carries a switchblade everywhere.

Honestly, this other blonde guy probably carries a knife too. If it weren’t for Hoshino’s presence, Tsutomu would have assumed he’d stumbled upon some kind of gang meeting. Something about these two students just screamed ‘danger’ to him. 

“She’s with her brother and those volleyball idiots,” Yoshi answers, rolling her eyes. “Who knows where they went?”

Tsutomu opens his mouth to argue because, rude, she definitely knows that Tsutomu plays volleyball too—but the blonde stranger beats him to it by clicking his tongue loudly and exclaiming, “Stop being a bitch about volleyball, it doesn’t make you cooler, Yoshi.”

Hoshino shrinks back instinctively when Yoshi levels the blonde guy with a look of pure violence . 

“No one asked you, you stupid mutt,” Yoshi snaps. “In fact, no one wanted you here in the first place, so kindly fuck off back to Sendai, would you?”

The blonde is unphased, still slouched over with his hands in his pockets. “You never change. How long has that stick been up your ass, huh?”

Tsutomu's jaw drops. 

“About as long as your head’s been up yours—asshat.” Yoshi doesn't miss a beat.

Tsutomu would very much like to exit this conversation, but he’s not sure how to without it looking like he’s fleeing for his life. 

Also, he thinks that maybe Yoshi will bring this up later, at knifepoint, and ask him to never tell anyone what he witnessed. But maybe he was being silly. Yoshi didn’t really carry a switchblade, did she?

He glances furtively at Hoshino again, wondering why he’s still here watching Yoshi and the not-Dateko student insult each other. Hoshino ducks his head and mutters to Tsutomu, “He doesn’t have a pass. If someone sees him, she’ll get suspended.”

Tsutomu gapes. “What?! You can get suspended for that?” The stranger was clearly familiar with Yoshi, so he must’ve come to the Academy to see her.

Hoshino shakes his head. “Yoshi can be suspended. She’s already in hot water with the administration for— ahem, nothing,” Hoshino coughs suddenly, looking away from Yoshi’s piercing gaze. 

“Which is why Kentarou isn’t here, and never was here,” Yoshi snaps. “Got it?”

The stranger, Kentarou, rolls his eyes like they’ve been going back and forth about this for a while. “I’m not leaving until you say it, bitch.”

“I’m not saying shit to you, just leave already!”

“Nope,” Kentarou replies cheekily. “Not moving.”

Hoshino sighs. “Ariyoshi-san,” he addresses her seriously. “I don’t want anyone to get in trouble. I won’t say anything, but there’s faculty members who are bound to notice your friend before long.”

“And I’ll tell them you’re the reason I’m here,” Kentarou adds unhelpfully.

Yoshi looks close to screaming. “What kind of shitty person does that, huh?! You’re just causing problems for me!”

“You cause your own problems!” Kentarou laughs meanly. “You bitched about wanting someone to watch your game, and then you got all shy when I said I would—”

“Damn it!” Yoshi shrieks, putting her face in her hands. Tsutomu thought she was furious, but instead, she’s blushing like crazy—she’s embarrassed. “Fine! I get it! Will you just leave if I—just. Thanks for coming to my game, Kentarou,” she declares, redder than a tomato. “Please get the hell out of here so I don’t get kicked out of the fancy school.”

Oh no, Tsutomu thinks to himself, She really is going to threaten me into silence after this.

Kentarou barks out a loud laugh, grinning. “You’re fucking welcome , Yoshi. You did great. I’ll see you next week, loser,” he salutes her with two fingers and then turns to look directly at Tsutomu. “You. Walk with me to the gate so I don’t get caught.”

“Me?” Tsutomu starts.

“Yeah,” he says, and then he aggressively grabs Tsutomu’s arm and starts dragging him along. “And then show me where the nearest convenient store is, I’m starving.”

“I—wait, why me?!” Tsutomu wails. “Hoshino??”

He turns back towards the basketball player in hopes that he’ll do something, but Yoshi is blocking his path and growling something at him, too. 

“You’ll be fine!” Hoshino calls out to Tsutomu, looking dubious.

Yui feels very… disheveled. The second half of the Dateko game had her standing on the other side of the field, facing the sun as it sunk lower and lower in the sky—but not past the treeline, meaning that she spent about forty-five minutes squinting and sweating in the light. 

When the final whistle blows, she’s pleased with how the game turned out. In the future, they’d have to be wary of Kimura Reo’s set pieces, but for now she was an unpolished weapon, easy to manage… Yui’s thoughts on the game don’t go much farther than that, because Oga, Nagano, and Sugita decide that now is the perfect time to dog-pile her. 

Oga laughs loudly in her ear, feet swinging. Yui is strongly reminded of elementary school, when she was still bigger than her brother and could carry him around. “How can you carry us all?!”

“Beast keeper!” Sugita cheers. “Aone, d’you think you can carry four people?”

“No,” she answers quietly, brow furrowed. “This is difficult as is…” Is someone chanting my name? she wonders, but she can’t stop to check the bleachers without losing her balance. 

Then the coach yells at them, thankfully, because it gives Yui a reason to let her three underclassmen tumble to the grass with squeals of laughter. Honestly, she really is raising children with Rumi on this team…

“Aoooneeeee!” Sugita whines, darting behind her. One of the first years is trying to spray her with a water bottle. 

“Thanks,” Yui deadpans, swiping the bottle out of Yoshi’s hands and taking a drink. 

“No!” Yoshi hollers, stretching for the bottle. Yoshi was one of the new first-years on the team, and usually acted rather aloof around her teammates, but she was still just fifteen years old. Even she had her childish moments. “Gross! Aoneeeee, stooooop, that’s mine!” 

Yui ignores her and goes over to where her team is gathering. She thanks the referees, the opposing team, and lastly, the absurd group of classmates piled into the bleachers to spectate. 

(After that’s done with, Yoshi snatches her water bottle back, pouting.) 

At last, Yui remembers to pull off her gloves and goes in search of a towel. 

A few more teammates congratulate her along the way, patting her back and chatting about the game. Yui nods along, but finds herself increasingly aware of how sweaty and humid everything feels. She fights the urge to take off her socks and shin guards along with her cleats. With so many students still milling around, it would look weird if she were to peel off some of her clothes and lay on the grass like she wants to… oh, but it’d feel so nice to just lay down… maybe Yoshi’s not the only one feeling childish right now.

But Yui resists. She ought to speak to her brother while he was still here. Takanobu went through the trouble of visiting her school, and Yui appreciates it. Not to mention Tendou and Ushijima. So instead of melting onto the lush grass, Yui wipes her face dry, brushes her hair back, and goes to the stands to find Taka and Tendou. 

Instead, Tendou finds her. Of course. 

“YUUUUI-KUN!” Tendou draws out her name in a lyrical sort of yell, waving both arms as he bounds towards her. “Great game! You were amazing!” he congratulates her, beaming. 

It feels like ants crawling up her arms, marching along her spine; a strange nervous energy emerges that had nothing to do with the game she just played. It’s just Tendou, Yui thinks to herself in surprise. Why should I ever be nervous around him?

Ushijima is there as well, following slowly. And her little brother is there too, keeping pace with Ushijima and frowning at the back of Tendou’s head. 

Ah… Yui can already tell that Takanobu is going to give her an earful later about her choice in friends. 

“Thank you for coming,” Yui tells Tendou at once, as soon as he’s close enough to hear her without shouting it across the lawn. 

“Of course! Who wouldn’t wanna see Japan’s future national goalkeeper?!” Tendou just keeps coming, running right up to her with his hands outstretched for a high five. Yui only hesitates for a moment, concerned with how unclean her hands must be, before obligingly raising her palms to meet his.

“That’s a little far-fetched, isn’t it?” Yui points out, but holds back from admonishing him any further. Tendou just looks so pleased, she doesn’t want to sound too cynical.

“I don’t think it is,” Ushijima comments, looking straight at Yui. “You could be on the national team some day. Weren’t you invited to the U-19 tryouts?”

Yui freezes, staring back at Ushijima like a deer in headlights. “I…”

Tendou squawks, his head whipping between the two of them. “You were?! You are? When?! Hang on, hang on! How does Wakatoshi know about this before me?” he cries. 

“Yui?” Takanobu cuts in, equally shocked. 

Ushijima is beginning to frown when Yui finally pulls her gaze away. She shifts from foot to foot, gathering her words. “I haven’t told anyone except my coach and Rumi so far,” she admits, eyeing Ushijima again skeptically. “How did you know about it?”

Ushijima pauses, realizing that all three of them were waiting on his answer now. “The dean spoke to me about the U-19 Volleyball Championship. He mentioned your invitation as well, since you might also play for a national team.”

Everyone already knew about Ushijima becoming a U-19 representative; he was also a U-17 representative in his first year of high school, and had been going to all sorts of youth training camps since then. And the Academy loved to play up their prestigious record and sports programs whenever possible, so Ushijima and other star athletes were like poster children for Shiratorizawa. 

“Yui!!” Tendou shouts, thrilled. “Holy shit! Yui!”

“Yeah…” Yui replies, not knowing what else to say.

Takanobu looks less enthused. He stares at her with solemn grey eyes, clearly not happy that Yui didn’t tell him herself. “It’s an invitation, Taka, not an acceptance,” Yui reminds him gently. “I’ll tell you first if I make the team.”

Ushijima and Tendou watch the second-year with open curiosity, and Takanobu is flustered once he realizes it. “Hmph,” he grunts, pointedly turning his face away from them. 

“I apologize if I overstepped,” Ushijima says carefully, trying to parse out the dynamic between the Aone siblings. “I didn’t know you hadn’t announced it.”

“Pro tip, Wakatoshi-kun,” Tendou declares, spinning on his heel. Unexpectedly, he throws an arm over Yui’s shoulder and hugs her lightly. “I’m the airhorn that announces all of Yui’s MVP moments. So if I’m not already shouting about it during our free period, Yui hasn’t told anyone yet!” 

He releases Yui and leans over to Ushijima pointedly. “It’s the same deal with you, and Eita’s band, and also every new chapter of Demon Slayer.”

Yui can’t argue with that. Tendou does make a big effort to keep her updated about his friends and the manga he’s reading. 

“I’m not upset,” she assures Ushijima, “I just… wasn’t going to announce it at all. If I make the team, that’s something I’d tell everyone,” Yui explains. 

“When you make the team,” Tendou corrects her haughtily. “Remind me to get your autograph before you start getting sponsorships, superstar.”

Tendou turns away before Yui has a chance to decipher the look on his face, but she can’t help but feel bashful. She never knows how to react when Tendou says things like that. 

“Regardless of what the future holds, you played very well today,” Ushijima tells her, laconic as usual. 

“Thank you,” Yui nods. “Um. I suppose you’ve already met Taka by now?”

The look Taka gives her as soon as she says his name is utterly glacial. Yui quirks an eyebrow in challenge. 

“I think your brother’s a little shy today, Yui-kun!” Tendou chirps, sliding a little closer to Takanobu and taking a peek at his face. “I already told you my name, but I didn’t catch yours! What was it, hm? Takkun?”

Takanobu stares down at Tendou, deeply troubled by his presence. “Aone,” he corrects Tendou.

The red-haired boy slumps for a moment, exasperated. “I don’t know why I’m surprised to discover this, Yui-kun, but your brother is exactly like you.” Then he throws his arm over Takanobu’s shoulder, just like he did to Yui, and awkwardly hugs the taller Aone. “We’re going to be such good friends, Takanobu-kun!”

Her brother grunts in response, jaw clenched tightly. Thankfully, Tendou slips away before Taka feels the need to do anything drastic. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Aone-kun,” Ushijima bows his head politely. “Please call me Ushijima.”

Takanobu gives a very reluctant bow to Ushijima in return. “Domo,” he mumbles, looking at his feet. 

“Yui!” Rumi calls out, jogging over. “We have a game!”

Game…? Yui looks at her, and then her gaze slides over to the much-taller boy tagging along with Rumi to speak with her. It was Yoshino Maya, the captain of the boys’ soccer team.

“Didn’t you just finish the game?” Tendou pipes up, quirking an eyebrow at Rumi. “Hiya Sugi-Rumi, did you notice you’ve got a little mosquito droning around you?”

Maya starts. “Are you talking about me?!” he demands, indignant.

“Yes,” Rumi deadpans, “It’s been buzzing in my ear for the past ten minutes.”

“You know, I don’t need to take this kind of abuse from you!” Maya cries, folding his arms stubbornly. “You’re the one that needed me and my team to convince the school board!”

The school board? Yui looks at Maya again, realization dawning on her. “Rumi… we have a game?”

“You’re goddamn right we have a game,” Rumi grins. “I told you we’d do it.”

“You’re signed up for one measly qualifier,” Maya pouts, rolling his eyes. “You’re never gonna win it.”

“Then why advocate for us, Maya-kun?” Yui asks him shrewdly. “It was a lot to ask of you and your team.”

Maya’s face pinches in annoyance when Rumi looks at him too. “No reason… the training camp sounded cool…” 

“I’m lost!” Tendou announces, bumping Yui’s shoulder. “What qualifier? What training camp? I’m just a simple volleyball player, help a guy out!”

Yui glances at Rumi, reassuring herself that Rumi and Maya really did manage to get the school board to agree to their proposal for the soccer teams. Rumi looks extremely pleased, and that’s confirmation enough. 

“For Golden Week, the soccer clubs got the funding to go to a new training camp of our choice,” Yui explains, fighting to keep her excitement in check. “But there’s also a tournament we wanted to enter, and the qualifying match takes place that week. We managed to keep both commitments by having the tournament match take place in the stadium closest to the training camp.”

“You guys are nuts,” Maya interrupts, running a hand through his hair. “A match like that, after a whole week of training? You’re gonna run your girls into the ground…”

“They can handle it,” Rumi scoffs. 

“Thank you for your help,” Yui tells him gratefully. “Rumi won’t say it, but your support made this possible.”

“Ah, well,” Maya laughs uneasily, eyebrows raised. “Not just my team, actually.” He hunches over Rumi’s shoulder and pulls another face. 

Yui blinks. “What do you mean?”

Rumi pushes past Maya, shaking her head. “I don’t know what he did, but the basketball teams are going too.”

Yui’s jaw drops. “Really? But it’s—”

“Don’t ask how I managed it, I just did it!” Maya hastily cuts her off. His cheeks are rapidly turning pink. “It’s done, you’re welcome!”

“Yes, thank you,” Yui stammers, “But how—?”

“I’ve gotta go now!” Maya exclaims, holding up his hands. “Good game, Aone. Utsugi…. Ushijima, Tendou, Aone’s brother... Why are you all here…?” He nods to each of them, looking more awkward by the minute. Yui watches the soccer player curiously, completely missing the intense looks that Tendou and Takanobu give him. “I should leave, I’ve got… math homework…bye Rumi!”

Rumi glares after him. “The hell is his problem?”

“Who knows,” Yui murmurs. "He's always been like that."

“Whatever,” she shrugs, turning to Yui’s brother with a kind smile. “Taka, what’d you think of my team?”

Takanobu, true to form, simply gives her a thumbs up. Rumi still looks pleased. 

“I think you guys were great!” Tendou chimes in, grinning hugely. “You know, Sugi-Rumi, I always thought you and Yui were so intense, but I was wrong! Your whole team is like that. Even little Natsu-kun, she thinks you’re really cool by the way. Wakatoshi-kun, you remember, right? Wasn’t it awesome when those two defenders, uh, got the ball back? What’s the word for that kind of play, a counter-attack…?”

Once Tendou gets going, it’s difficult to stop him. He’s even roped Ushijima into speaking a few words about the game. Rumi usually has no problem interrupting people, but unsurprisingly, she seems pleased to hear Tendou and Ushijima shower her team with compliments. In between short replies and nods in response to Tendou, Rumi side-eyes Yui and smirks. 

Suddenly, Yui recalls the brief conversation she had with her captain during halftime. 

“You invited Tendou and Ushijima?” Rumi had asked, looking confused. “Both of them?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?” Yui frowned. 

“No, it’s just… both of them?” 

Yui still doesn’t know what she means, but judging by the smirk on Rumi’s face, she’ll find out soon enough.

Natsu bursts out of the locker rooms and into the evening sunlight, hair still wet and tangled. "Aw man! Everyone's gone!" she cries, gripping her phone. She had a few messages from Shouyou and Goshiki, but she'd hoped to at least see them before she had to start the bike ride home. 

"Natsuuuu," a mournful voice calls out to her. 

She turns. "Yunohama-san?" Natsu replies, surprised to see him still lingering by the fence. "What're you still doing out here?"

"I couldn't do it," he sighs, slumped over the edge of the chain-linked fence. "She's too popular."

Ah. This was about Captain Utsugi. 

"You don't have to approach her right away," Natsu points out gently. "She's not seeing anyone right now."

Yuno moans in distress. "You don't get it, Natsu. I've got competition!"

She stares, not quite believing him. "You do?"

"Yes!" The volleyball play throws up his hands dramatically. "Maya! That jerk totally likes Rumi. But he's a captain, and the third-year! I can't compete with that. And—and that Dateko guy! She smiled at him twice!"

Dateko guy...  Natsu gasps. "Aone's little brother?!"

"That's her little brother?!" Yunohama asks sharply. "As in her younger brother? Younger than Rumi?"

"I... yes?" Natsu isn't sure where he's going with this. "He's a second-year."

"Then I have a chance, right? I'm a second-year, and a volleyball player!" Yunohama argues. Natsu isn't sure who he's trying to convince, because she never contradicted him. "I'm her type. I think so, at least...What do you think?"

Natsu shrugs. "I don't know. Rumi smiles at plenty of people..." She smiled at Shouyou too, and Natsu doesn't want to consider the idea that her captain has a crush on her twin brother. But then Natsu looks at Yunohama's sad face again, and she sighs. "You won't know until you talk to her. So, uh, don't... lose hope?" 

Yunohama nods seriously. "I won't. Thanks, Natsu. You're good at this." 

"I'm glad," Natsu huffs. She can hear the bus's engine approaching from around the block now. "Good night, Yuno-san! See you tomorrow!"

"Bye! Oh! And you played great! Shirabu says that your goal was really hard to pull off!" Yuno tacks on cheerfully as Natsu trots down tot he bus stop. "Good game!"

Chapter Text

✨starfire🔥 , strongbean , ariYOSH & 3 others have been added to The Eagles chat

ERIBERRY: i’m bored

ERIBERRY: mks?

meganequeen: sure. wat r the choices?

ariYOSH: what is this

strongbean: did we change the team chat name?

ERIBERRY: i’ll go first

meganequeen: but wat r the choices?? 

✨starfire🔥: what’s going on??

CenterBitch: this is the unmonitored PG chat

WingBitch: no captains allowed

ariYOSH: that’s… so dumb

ERIBERRY: marry aone, kiss ikejiri, slap yoshi

ariYOSH: so you’ve chosen death

meganequeen: teammates edition? spicy

✨starfire🔥: ohh

✨starfire🔥: so it’s like fuck marry kill?

ERIBERRY: WHOA THERE HINATA

ariYOSH: who taught you that

ariYOSH: i just wanna talk w them

not_yui: i thought you were pure

meganequeen: don’t sully the PG chat with that

✨starfire🔥: everyone knows that game!!

✨starfire🔥: i dont really play it tho

ERIBERRY: of course u dont

meganequeen: that’s why you’re not in the nsfw chat

meganequeen: we can’t say fuck here

yams: but u just said it…

meganequeen: silence, potato girl

yams: oi

ariYOSH: haha

yams: OI

ERIBERRY: ohoho we got a chuckle outta yoshi

ariYOSH: won’t happen again

strongbean: how many different chats are there??

ERIBERRY: dw bout it

ERIBERRY: kunitake, you’re up

meganequeen: m saka & sugasawa, k none of you nasty girls, s akari

WingBitch: what did akari do?

meganequeen: dw bout it

WingBitch: ok...

CenterBitch: u can’t pick 2 for marry and none for kiss

not_yui: sure she can!

sakagucci: then i’d have TWO wives. 

not_yui: extra income!

sakagucci: tax breaks

meganequeen: see? they’re a package deal

ERIBERRY: lame. nakajima is next

meganequeen: ur mad u didn’t think of joining the suga-saka household

sakagucci: the sugasawa household*

strongbean: 👀

not_yui: you’d take my surname??

sakagucci: call me mrs. sugasawa 

not_yui: BABE

sakagucci: babe

ariYOSH: so

ariYOSH: not to be rude here, but

ariYOSH: is this part of a joke or are you lesbians? 

CenterBitch: no they’re japanese

ariYOSH: from the bottom of my heart, naka

ariYOSH: fuck off

ariYOSH has been removed from the chat

meganequeen: we dont use that kind of language here

strongbean: poor yoshi

CenterBitch: now that we’ve taken out the trash

CenterBitch: marry ichise, kiss natsu, slap rumi

✨starfire🔥: me??

meganequeen: is that allowed?

CenterBitch: on the forehead, you’re a child

✨starfire🔥: i’m not a child :///

nananana: don’t feel bad, she’s marrying me for money

CenterBitch: i’m trophy wife material

CenterBitch: i’ll buy designer clothes and have an affair with the pool boy

nananana: i’ll get a prenup

CenterBitch: no alimony?? the children need funding for soccer

ERIBERRY: omg shut up naka

CenterBitch: ur mad cuz i'm funnier than u

yams: get naka out of here i cant deal w her today

CenterBitch has been removed from the chat

ariYOSH has been added to the chat

WingBitch: rip naka 🙏

yams: oh dayum i didnt mean literally

✨starfire🔥: hey yoshi, u didn’t miss much

a_SIMP: who gave hinata admin privilege??

ERIBERRY: uhhhhh whoops?

ERIBERRY: let’s switch it up, MKS with both vball teams 🏐🏐🏐

ariYOSH: wait both teams?

WingBitch: jfc yoshi are u blind

WingBitch: the vball teams are gorgeous

ariYosh: i hate it here

not_yui: marry kaneko-chan, kiss ohira, slap shirabu

meganequeen: u know shirabu? mood tho

✨starfire🔥: they’re in college prep together 

not_yui: him and kaneko, yes

not_yui: i have strong feelings about my college prep class.

sakagucci: 👀👀👀

not_yui: if i had to pick a guy, it’d be ohira

not_yui: he’s the only valid man i know

sakagucci: i gUEsS

strongbean: but u could kiss any of the girls on the other team?

not_yui: but they’re not saka 😘

sakagucci: 😘

ariYOSH: i should’ve noticed this sooner

ariYOSH: you guys are like disgustingly in love

sakagucci: ye

not_yui: yes!!

sakagucci has changed their name to preparefortrouble

not_yui has changed their name to andmakeitdouble

ariYOSH: obscene

ariYOSH: congrats or whatever

✨starfire🔥: oh!!  i didn’t wanna ask if i was wrong but u guys r cute together!!

strongbean: can i come to the wedding

andmakeitdouble: unlike ichise, we r broke

andmakeitdouble: u can be the witness at the courthouse if we get that far

preparefortrouble: keep this ship to yourselves, kids. if i get another 3some proposition from a man i’ll cut a dick off

strongbean: 3some?

strongbean: a typo?

strongbean: oh

strongbean: nvm

andmakeitdouble : is hirao still alive? @yams

yams: she is laying on the floor of our room, too embarrassed to answer

ariYOSH: ew you never vacuum that floor

meganequeen: moving on! one of the first years should go

ariYOSH: why?

meganequeen: so we can get to know you

a_SIMP: oh shut up aimi

a_SIMP: you want hinata to talk about vball boys

ERIBERRY: which is a valid request

ERIBERRY: how tf did you get them all to watch our game?

✨starfire🔥: i only invited kawanishi and goshiki!

✨starfire🔥: it was just luck, usually their practice runs late

✨starfire🔥: i don’t think it’ll happen again

ariYOSH: famous last words

meganequeen: ^^^

meganequeen: ushiwaka followed tendou, and tendou has a massive crush on aone

meganequeen: our vice captain is effing oblivious tho

a_SIMP: nahhh she knooooows

a_SIMP: did u SEE them after the dateko game??

a_SIMP: she doesn’t know how to turn him down lol

a_SIMP: idk why anyone hangs out w tendou, esp ushiwaka

nananana: rumi HATES tendou like fr he’s so annoying

✨starfire🔥: she does? she’s never said so

nananana: ok but you’ve met him, he’s crazy

nananana: aone only tolerates him for english hw so rumi does too

CenterBitch: hey u think rumi knows that yoshino would let her step on him?

nananana: she has no idea it's amazing

✨starfire🔥: hey guys

✨starfire🔥: should you be talking about the captains like this?

meganequeen: oh come on natsu

✨starfire🔥: i’d feel uncomfortable if any of you did this about me

✨starfire🔥: i don’t like the way you’re talking about anyone, actually

ariYOSH: i agree

ariYOSH: stop with the shipping unless it’s about the sugasaka wedding

ariYOSH: we’ll crowdfund that shit

andmakeitdouble: yoshiiiiii, you do have a heart! 

ERIBERRY: yeah yeah but goshiki x hinata is real and cute

✨starfire🔥: i know you mean that in a nice way 

✨starfire🔥: but i don’t want to talk about goshiki

✨starfire🔥: we’re just friends?

meganequeen: buuuuut you do have a thing for semi, right? you text him a lot

meganequeen: even shirabu was surprised you guys were so close

✨starfire🔥: ive told you already 

✨starfire🔥: idk why you keep asking the same thing

✨starfire🔥: there isn’t anything to say, we're friends

meganequeen: suuure there isn’t 🙄

ERIBERRY: just leave the chat if you want lol

strongbean: no no you can talk to us, hinata

strongbean: there’s nothing to feel uncomfortable about!

✨starfire🔥: i don’t think i’m explaining this well

nananana: she’s not ready to accept the feeeeels

✨starfire🔥: guys come on

ariYOSH: wowee

ariYOSH: i should’ve gone to seijoh

meganequeen: what?

ariYOSH: i mean is this even a soccer club?

ariYOSH: if i wanted to join a gossip club i could’ve saved a TON of money by going to any other school

ERIBERRY: yoshi, chill

ERIBERRY: if we’re a team we should be able to share this stuff

ERIBERRY: don’t act all high and mighty

a_SIMP: lay off her, she’s salty

a_SIMP: sometimes you don’t wanna talk about couples when you’re single lol

nananana: oh man she’s been typing for a while

nananana: get ready for an essay

strongbean: you didn’t have to make fun of her for being single

yams: we’re all single, she’ll get over it

ariYOSH: don’t write this off as a team bonding exercise

ariYOSH: i’m tired of the rumor mill shit, and insulting ppl who aren’t here to defend themselves. don’t play dumb. all of you. hinata is our teammate. utsugi and aone are our captains. respect them. 

ariYOSH has left the chat

✨starfire🔥 has left the chat

---

Direct Message: Hinata Natsu & Ariyoshi Saori

✨starfire🔥: thanks

ariYOSH: yeah whatever

ariYOSH: don’t bother me i’m going to sleep

✨starfire🔥: wait!! 

ariYOSH: what

✨starfire🔥: i didn’t get to tell you after the dateko game!!

✨starfire🔥: you were really good, idk how you kept up with #3 on the wing

ariYOSH: with great effort. my stamina sucks ass right now

✨starfire🔥: and i cant believe noya and tanaka just did all the cleaning for you!!

ariYOSH: boys are simple creatures

✨starfire🔥: so just make it a competition?

ariYOSH: yes

✨starfire🔥: lol i’ll keep that in mind next time shouyou slacks off!!

ariYOSH: best of luck

✨starfire🔥: ok, i know it’s late so that’s all i have to say

ariYOSH: see you in school

✨starfire🔥: bye!!!

Chapter Text

“Nacchan! Nacchan!” Shouyou bursts through the door, sweaty and breathless from the bike ride home. He kicks off his shoes and stumbles over the step separating the genkan from the hallway. Then, forgetting he hasn’t announced himself, he adds, “Hellooo, I’m baaaack!” 

No answer. 

He checks the time on the kitchen microwave—ah, crap, it’s been reset?—-and then takes out his phone to check that clock. It’s late, but volleyball practice ended ahead of schedule because their teacher had to leave. 

Shouyou deflates, fiddling with the microwave to set the clock. “Nacchaaaan,” he whines to no one. Because Natsu isn’t home to hear him. Her bike was in the front, so he’d assumed she was home before him, but that must mean she took the bus—

The door swings open. “Hellooo, I’m baaack!”

“Nacchan!” Shouyou scrambles back to the front of the house, still wearing his jacket and schoolbag. “It’s official, I’m going to a training camp! The long-fated battle of the trash heap!”

Natsu’s face twists up in confusion, clearly expecting a simple ‘welcome home’ instead of being bombarded with volleyball talk. “...What?”

“And welcome home,” he adds, grinning. “I just got here. I think Takeda-sensei is going to bring us a new—oh, what should we do for dinner?” he asks suddenly, looking around as if dinner ingredients would magically appear before them. 

Today is Thursday. Their mother was out of town for business until Monday, so Natsu was in charge of Shouyou and Shouyou was in charge of Natsu. The main challenge of this is feeding themselves, and maybe doing laundry too, but both Hinatas knew they were too lazy to get any laundry done unless they absolutely had no clothes left. 

“Granny Kiho might like some company,” Shouyou suggests. “We haven’t seen her in a while.” More importantly, Granny Kiho would feed them without question, solving the question of how to cook dinner.

His sister pokes out a tongue, toeing off her sneakers slowly. “I think her son is visiting, I saw a car in her driveway.” Shouyou deflates. Granny Kiho, the neighbor they share a backyard with, can cook better than anyone he knows—but she also lives alone, and rarely gets family visits. They know better than to interrupt the limited time she gets to spend with her family. “How about… Udon? I’ll cook if you can chop the vegetables properly,” Natsu teases.

Shouyou sticks out his tongue too. It’s not his fault he cut onions into slices instead of itty-bitty cubes last time, she should’ve told him how to cut them. “Yeah, yeah. Udon’s good. But did you hear me? Battle of the trash heap!”

“I heard you. Sounds… unsanitary.” Natsu smiles, unzipping her jacket.

“It’s because we’re crows and they’re cats! But forget that part!” He begins to take off his jacket and school bag when he sees Natsu doing the same. “We have a rival school, how cool is that? I had no idea. Old Coach Ukai and Coach Nekomata go way back! I’ve never heard of Nekoma, but they’re from Tokyo! Like Nohebi!” He’s only heard of Nohebi Academy in Tokyo, because it was the team that beat Shiratorizawa’s soccer team last year—Natsu went on a long rant about it and how her team’s working hard to get a rematch.

His sister grins back. “That’s awesome. Is this a Golden Week camp?”

“Yes!” Shouyou cheers, throwing his hands up. “Takeda-sensei arranged it! We’re practicing in our gym, but we’ll play Nekoma in Tsukinokizawa’s court on Saturday!”

“Ooh, so you won’t be that far,” Natsu notes, “We have a trip for that week too, but they haven’t announced the details. I think the Academy has a different semester system than Karasuno… You know, for a second I thought you were going all the way to Tokyo for training. But that won’t happen ‘till Nationals, ne?” She gives him a toothy, knowing grin. 

Nationals . Shouyou thinks he might vibrate out of his socks. “Right! I can ask them about the Tokyo gyms! Uwahh , I don’t know if Nekoma’s been to Nationals recently. I should ask. But they sound strong!”

Suddenly Natsu’s grin turns impish. “You know what team’s definitely gone to Nationals for volleyball before?” she asks teasingly. “I mean, if I remember correctly they were in Tokyo just this January…” 

Shouyou throws his jacket at her face, making her squawk. “Don’t talk to me about that team, they’re the enemy!” he declares. If he’s being honest, Kawanishi seems okay, but Shouyou can’t stand that Shirabu guy. And he never got to meet Goshiki! That was suspicious. Shouyou wasn’t ready to be all chummy with them. “We can’t be friends, Nacchan, no matter how much you like ‘em!”

“Who said anything about being their friend?” Natsu laughs, dropping his jacket on the back of a chair. 

He rolls his eyes, as if it isn’t obvious. “You know we always end up with the same friends one way or another. I like your soccer team—especially Yoshi, she’s funny—and you’re cool with my volleyball team, but that’s where I draw the line, because we’re not rival teams!” He pauses. “Actually, no , you can’t befriend Kageyama either. If you appropriate my setter it’ll mean war.”

Natsu, instead of protesting this ludicrous claim (who knew Shouyou would become territorial about the setter he vowed to defeat?), simply raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. It’s horribly reminiscent of Tsukishima. “‘Appropriate’? Wow, your vocabulary is expanding. I’m so proud , big brother.”

She’s mocking him. But unlike Tsukishima, Shouyou has no difficulty dealing with Natsu. 

Shouyou looks her dead in the eye. “You brought this upon yourself,” he declares, scooping up the volleyball he left behind the couch.

“Eh?” Natsu blinks, not expecting to see a weapon. “Oi, boke, don’t spike a ball in the house—AHH!” Natsu shrieks and turns away when he serves the ball at her, smacking her in the back of the head. It bounces back towards him. “Ow! You’re gonna break something!” She complains, but grabs a pillow from the couch and uses it as a shield. 

“You drew first blood!” Shouyou hollers, raising the ball again. She blocks the ball this time, and punts it down the hall before he can grab it. “Don’t bring my grades into this!”

“You can’t take a joke, oh my god!” Natsu grabs him around the waist so he can’t go after the volleyball. Shouyou twists around until she’s the one in a headlock, mussing up her hair until it looks as crazy as Nishinoya’s. She screeches, pushing harder against him. 

“How can you be so nice and so cruel at the same time?!” Shouyou demands, losing his balance when Natsu hooks her leg over his calf and pushes. They fall onto the tatami mats in a heap of tangled limbs. Unfortunately, Natsu ends up on the bottom, squashed under her brother.

“It’s an innate talent of mine,” Natsu wheezes, and Shouyou rolls himself off her. Sensing disaster if they keep wrestling, she diverts his attention elsewhere. “I’m starving, are we making dinner or not?!”

“Roger that!” Shouyou springs to his feet, wrestling match abandoned and ignoring the dark look Natsu throws him. “Which vegetables need slicing?! Ninja Shouyou is here to defeat them!” Wisely, he chooses not to swing a knife around like he did last time they made dinner. But wouldn’t it be cool to slice vegetables in mid-air?! Maybe next time he’ll try it, when Natsu isn’t scowling at him for wrestling in the house.

While Shouyou pulls out prep bowls and a cutting board, Natsu digs through the fridge for vegetables, trying to recall the recipe for curry udon noodles she found online. They managed it pretty easily last time when their mother supervised and Natsu dictated the instructions. Shouyou figures out which vegetables to cut or grate or slice, while Natsu boots up her laptop to find the curry recipe again. 

“Ooh, wait!” Shouyou exclaims, nearly slicing off a finger in his excitement. “This is the one with fancy curry, right? Let me do it this time!” 

She raises an eyebrow, skeptical and impressed in equal measure. “You wanna make the roux from scratch?” To be fair, it was a pretty clear-cut recipe. It was a recipe posted to a cooking forum, and there was a comment section to answer questions. “It takes longer, but okay. Try not to get food on the laptop.”

Shouyou cheers, pumping a fist. “I can totally do it! It looked so easy when you made it,” he insists, shuffling in front of the computer screen. Natsu is still a bit baffled by his enthusiasm, and therefore wary. Neither of them are great cooks, but Shouyou has a tendency to misread directions.

“Nacchan, you still have to help me though,” her brother adds as an afterthought, eyes narrowed on the webpage. A divot forms between his eyebrows as he scans the screen, concerned. “This makes sense but it also doesn’t? Simmer it ‘till the cows come home?”

“That’s just a weird idiom,” Natsu frowns. “Don’t read the blog post, it’s too long. That’s for the vegetables anyway. Read about the roux.”

He nods warily. “Okay… But it says to braise the beef? Is that a dressing?”

“Why don’t I handle the beef?” Natsu laughs. “It just uses a certain setting on the oven.”

Shouyou still looks distressed. “Nacchan… How… how much is a dollop of butter? What is a dollop? You know I’m bad with weird vocabulary words. What if I mess this up? Then we don’t have any dinner!”

“I got you, buddy,” Natsu snorts, patting his back. “Just use a chunk of butter, like two tablespoons. It’s pretty forgiving.” There were similar questions posted at the bottom of the recipe, where Shouyou could find all the answers, but she gets the feeling he hasn’t scrolled down far enough for that. 

“What am I being forgiven for?” Shouyou asks blankly. “It says that here too, at the bottom of the instructions. How can a recipe forgive me? What did I do?”

“I mean you can’t mess this up easily, it’ll still taste good with some mistakes or changes,” Natsu tries again, exasperation creeping into her voice. “It’s just a phrase. Seriously, don’t you ever read?”

“What did I say about bringing up my grades?!” 

Natsu rolls her eyes. “It’s not my fault you’re dumb.” A pause. “No! Don’t get the volleyball out! Shouyou! Stop complaining and watch the pot!”

Saturday arrives, and the Hinatas are bored . They both had practice at the crack of dawn, but no afternoon training scheduled, so they were both milling around Shouyou’s room. Shouyou’s has been hogging the portable fan lately, and at this point Natsu just decided she’ll just have to study in his room until he gets fed up with her presence instead of fighting over it. 

(Natsu used to have her own fan, but she knocked it over while trying to juggle a soccer ball.)

“Oho! Kageyama’s coming over,” Shouyou says eventually, tapping away on his phone.

“Really?” Natsu is surprised. Kageyama hasn’t visited before. She’s still a little unclear on whether or not he and Shouyou were friends. It was more of a love-hate relationship, from what Natsu could gather from Shouyou’s rants. Right now he’s sticking out his tongue and there’s a slight grin on his face, so today that meant they were friends. “What for?”

Shouyou pauses, still looking at his phone. “Volleyball and stuff? Heh, maybe we’ll try to study, and we’ll see who’s the real boke!”

“You’re gonna play volleyball with two people?” Natsu asks doubtfully. “And in this heat?”

“We can still—pass the ball around! I want to try the receiving drill he’s told me about, but Kageyama’s kind of an idiot, he can’t explain it properly in a text. I dunno, we’ll figure it out.”

Natsu thinks they could’ve done all that just by staying at the school gymnasium after the end of practice, but it was Shouyou’s life, not hers. “Cool. How long is he staying?” If he stayed through the afternoon, it would make sense to offer him food too, like their mom would. Plus, Natsu was a little hungry already. 

“Mm—If he wants to stay longer, we could all have dinner together, or like a late lunch, but... do we have food?” Shouyou wonders, also thinking ahead to their next meal. 

Natsu huffs. “We’d have to make something again, because we ate all the udon,” she mourns. After the success of Thursday night’s dinner, curry udon returned for an encore for Friday’s meal. And they’d made a lot of udon, too! But now they were a little sick of udon, and also didn’t have much fresh produce in the house to cook anything fun.

Despite what their mother thinks, Natsu is just as irresponsible as Shouyou. Neither of them want to cook a meal from scratch today. 

“Ugh,” Shouyou groans, sharing her sentiment. He looks at his phone again. “Is it too late to ask Granny Kiho?”

Natsu shrugs. “There’s still that blue car in her driveway—mom wouldn’t want us to bother her.”

“Aw man, Granny makes the best meals,” Shouyou says mournfully. “She doesn’t get visitors often, though, so I’m happy for her. We can pick something up from the store.”

Natsu hums her agreement, flipping to the next page of her notes. “I don’t want to think about it. We should just buy a bunch of—“

“—pork buns,” Shouyou finishes the sentence instantly, looking hopeful. 

“Heck yeah.”

“Yes!!” Shouyou high fives her.

Kageyama Tobio squints down at the directions on his phone, trying to make out the characters. The sun is beating down on his dark hair, and reflecting off the screen of his phone so brightly he can hardly read it. But the house should be right around the corner, so he forges on, glad that he thought to bring a water bottle. 

Truth be told, he’s a little nervous about visiting Hinata’s home. When’s the last time he was invited over to a friend’s house? To anyone’s house? Tobio doesn’t think it’s ever happened.

Are we even friends? Tobio can’t even answer that. Hinata Shouyou is his rival-turned-teammate, the little spitfire with such ridiculous natural talent it makes him burn. His partner for the quick attack. He’s mainly here to explain to Hinata how to do the solo receiving exercise, because apparently that idiot can’t comprehend written instructions. But, well, he could’ve explained it at school too, so this was… maybe it was excessive to visit… 

A message pops up on his phone. Are you coming or not?? Hurry up, slowpoke!!

Tobio scoffs. I’m right around the corner, moron, he replies. 

He rounds the corner at last, finally picking up his head. There’s another person walking from the other direction, but according to Tobio’s phone, the smallish brown house with overgrown bushes belongs to the Hinatas, so—

“Do you live here?” someone asks abruptly, startling Tobio. 

Pulling his eyes away from the engraved address and family name on the stone border of the property, Tobio finds himself looking at an alarmingly familiar face. 

“You,” Tobio blinks at the tall boy, wondering if he’s seeing things properly. “Aren't you... Shiratorizawa’s setter?”

The boy with straight, angled bangs frowns deeply at him. Tobio nervously realizes he’s forgotten this student’s name. Something with a ‘sh’ sound? 

“And you’re one of the Karasuno guys from the game. What's your name again?”

He straightens up quickly. “Kageyama Tobio. And, um, your name… is…?”

“Shirabu Kenjiro,” he answers, still frowning. 

“Shirabu-san,” Tobio repeats carefully. “Um. So, why are you here? You don’t live in the dorms?” Hinata’s sister is a commuter student, and she’s friends with Shirabu, but he never heard anything about them being neighbors . 

“No, but I don’t live around here,” the second year answers stiffly. “I’m just… in the neighborhood today. Don’t tell me this is your house,” he adds, eyes drifting back to the front gate. “Number 33…. Hinata. ..?” He reads out the engraving, aghast. “This is—no, there’s no way this is—“

“KAGEYAMAAA!” Hinata bursts out the front door, almost tripping over the front step. Tobio feels himself exhale a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, relieved to see the familiar mop of orange hair. “FINALLY! You took ages to get here, did your brain get fried in the heat? You’re not even wearing a hat!” The ginger boy howls, coming to a stop at the gate. 

Then he spots Shirabu, and screams. “WHAT THE HELL?!”

Shirabu scowls. “What are you yelling for?”

“What’re you doing here?!” Hinata yells again. “Did you follow Nacchan home? Did she invite you over?!”

“No,” Shirabu says, horrified. “Why would I? What are you implying, you—“

But before he can get another word out, Hinata twists around and yells at his house, “NACCHAN, YOUR FRIEND’S HERE!!”

“Stop yelling,” Shirabu snaps, his face turning pink. He begins to back away. “I’m not here for Hinata! This is a mistake, I’m just—I’m not even here, forget you saw me—“

“Shouyou, what are you yelling about?” Natsu sticks her head out of a window, in clear view of all three boys. “Uwah—Shirabu-san, why are you here?!” 

Shirabu, who’s silently trying to slip out of sight, freezes at her words. He groans, and turns around as Natsu appears in the doorway, pulling on slippers. “Hey!” she greets him sunnily. 

“...Hi, Hinata-san,” he replies, unenthused. 

“Hiya Shirabu-san,” Natsu says again, at a loss for words. Then she looks at Tobio, holding up a hand to shade her eyes. “Oh, Kageyama-kun, how are you? It’s really hot out here. Shouyou, invite him in.”

“I was just about to do that!” Shouyou grumbles. “C’mon!"

“R-right,” Tobio nods, sharing a look with Hin—Shouyou. “Thank you for having me.” They unlocks the gate and Tobio follows Shouyou into the small, shaded house, while his sister remains at the gate. 

Natsu looks at Shirabu expectantly. “Nice to see you,” she offers curiously. “Why are you at my house?”

“I didn’t know it was your house,” he replies quickly, jamming his hands in his pockets. “My grandmother asked me to check on her neighbors. I’m visiting her this weekend.”

She tilts her head. “Your… grandmother?”

Shirabu huffs, not meeting her eye. “She made it sound like there were a couple of elementary school kids home alone this weekend,” he says pointedly. “Apparently you know her, Kobayashi Kiho-san? Your backyard connects to hers.”

There’s a loud thump from the front of Hinata’s house, and then Shouyou shouts, “YOU’RE RELATED TO GRANNY KIHO? I KNEW IT!”

Another loud thump.

“Shut up, Hinata-boke! It’s freakin’ hot out here, open the damn door!”

“BAKEYAMA! I’m opening it, I’m opening it…!”

Shirabu scowls harder, even as Shouyou’s voice fades.  “Yes,” he replies to both Hinatas sternly. “I’m her… uh, grandson. Kind of.”

Natsu examines his face for a moment, looking for some kind of familiarity. Kobayashi Kiho didn’t speak much about her family besides to complain about how rarely they visited her. Natsu’s mother probably knew more, but Natsu knew that Granny Kiho had two sons; one in Ishikawa and the other in Saitama. She’s never met the Kobayashi boys, and Granny Kiho had no daughters or nieces. 

“Ah! Are you Uncle Benji’s son?” Natsu guesses at last. Benjiro was actually Kiho’s nephew (or was he a godson?) and still lived in Miyagi. He also wasn’t a Kobayashi, though Natsu had never thought to ask for his full name. Uncle Benji came by once in a while, and Natsu liked him because he would talk about soccer with her. 

“...Yeah,” Shirabu confirms, still looking like he’s sucked on a lemon. “You call my dad Uncle Benji?”  

Natsu nods, intrigued. “Well yeah, that’s how he introduced himself—when I was six , Shirabu-san! I’ve lived here my whole life! How have we never met before?”

He shrugs. “I only visit her a few times a year.” His face scrunches up further in annoyance. “This is weird,” Shirabu states petulantly. 

Natsu grins. “You’re just embarrassed!”

“Shut up, Hinata,” he says instantly, taking the same tone of voice he uses with Goshiki. 

She resists the urge to tease him further. “Did Kiho-baachan invite us for dinner again?” 

Shirabu sighs. “Yeah, she did. She says your parents are away this weekend and you two morons don’t know how to feed yourselves.”

“Oi, we’re doing just fine,” Natsu refutes, hands on her hips.

“Really? Good,” Shirabu says swiftly, spinning on his heel. “I’ll tell her you declined the invitation then, alright?”

“Shirabu-san,” Natsu protests, following him out the gate. “Nuh-uh, you’re not getting out of this that easily!” She steps around him and spreads her arms, blocking his path. “I’ve had Kiho-baachan’s food before, and I’ve never refused an invitation from her! I just need to ask if it’s okay for Kageyama-kun to eat with us too!”

“You’re inviting that kid? What the hell,” Shirabu exclaims. “You can’t, that’s so rude.”

“Not if I ask first, it isn’t,” Natsu counters. “She loves feeding people. Especially Shouyou, he eats everything she puts in front of him. Kageyama-kun eats a lot too. She’ll love it!”

“Hinata,” Shirabu stares down at her. “Has it occurred to you that I don’t want to eat a family dinner with you, your brother, and your brother’s friend?”

“Why not?” Natsu demands. “What’s wrong with that?”

“It—It’ll be annoying,” he snaps.

Natsu pauses. “...You think I’m annoying?” 

“I—“ he falters under her stare. “No, you’re—tolerable,” Shirabu decides. “But the other two are—“

“You don’t even know them,” Natsu argues, eyebrows raised. “You’ve only met them once. They even like volleyball like you do! Uncle Benji doesn’t know much about it, he likes soccer, ne?”

“Shut up,” Shirabu mutters. “Fine, I don’t know them. Isn’t that reason enough? I don’t want to invite strangers into my home.”

Technically it’s Kobayashi Kiho’s home, but Natsu dismisses that point for a better one. “Alright then, Shirabu-san. Then get to know them. Right now!”

“Right… now?” he repeats, horrified. 

“Right now!” Natsu repeats with enthusiasm, pushing him backwards towards her home. “Shouyou! Kageyama-kun! Let’s play volleyball with Shirabu-san! Two on two!”

“Yes!” Shouyou appears at the gate in the blink of an eye. “Two on two!! KAGEYAMA!”

“I didn’t agree to this,” Shirabu hisses at her. “You don’t even play, Hinata.”

“Then you’re gonna have to work a little harder with me, ‘cause I’m no Ushijima Wakatoshi,” Natsu shrugs. “But this is just for fun, so don’t sweat it! Please?”

“But—but I don’t want to!” Shirabu argues. He’s not snapping at her though, he’s whining , which means Natsu can still coerce him into playing without feeling too guilty about it. “I—I have homework to do, a-and—”

“You can do that later, but right now the backyard has shade, so we gotta play now,” she insists. “It won’t be a long game, I know you won’t last.” She begins to raise her voice so it carries. “It’s pretty hot out here and you boys aren’t used to playing in the sun—“

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Shouyou demands, already digging through a small storage shed for the net and playing oh-so-beautifully into her teasing. Yoshi was right. Boys are so predictable.

“I mean you’re all pampered in your gyms with squeaky-clean floors and air-conditioning!” Natsu taunts immediately, grinning at the affronted look on Kageyama’s face. “This is practically beach volleyball, which is WAY harder than whatever the heck you guys are doing indoors!”

“Beach volleyball…” Kageyama murmurs, ruminative, remembering what Natsu said after the Dateko game. Her monstrous stamina was helped by playing on sand. “But we’re on grass, not sand.”

“Grass volleyball,” Natsu says cheerfully, thinking quick. “Have you watched tennis before? There’s whole tournaments based around different terrain. Grass courts, clay courts, hard courts! I’m sure they don’t use hardwood for every volleyball court either. You should learn to adapt!” 

“There’s synthetic courts too,” Shirabu adds, unknowingly playing into Natsu’s scheme. “Gym 1 at the Academy is a synthetic court… a lot of professional stadiums use it now too.”

Kageyama stares at Shirabu, like he’s only just remembered that Shirabu is on the best team in the prefecture. “Different courts...”

“Kageyama’s on my team first,” Shouyou declares, dragging the dark-haired boy aside to help set up one of the poles. “I’ll show you who’s pampered, Ms. Private School!” He switches to pointing at Shirabu. “And you! You’re good enough to get recommended to the Academy, so show us what you’re made of!”

Shirabu clicks his tongue, glaring at her brother. “What are you talking about?” 

“You—for volleyball!” Shouyou splutters. “You were recruited for volleyball, weren’t you?”

Shirabu straightens up to his full height, looming ominously. “No, I wasn’t,” he corrects the ginger boy. “I took the regular entry exam and then tried out for the team once I got in.”

“Uwah! Shirabu-san, you’re a walk-on!” Natsu hollers, eyes wide. “I had no idea! That’s way harder than getting recruited!”

“Seriously?” Kageyama’s jaw drops. Then his gaze turns steely. “You really are an elite,” he mutters to himself. “Hinata!” He barks. Natsu and Shouyou both jump. “I—Hinata boke, not you, Hinata-san. Hold up the net properly.”

Natsu snickers. Shouyou rolls his eyes, already working on the net. “You two have to call us different names, otherwise it’s confusing!” 

“Just call me Hinata and call him boke,” Natsu advises with an impish grin. Kageyama nods. Shirabu just gives them all a deeply unimpressed frown.

“Hey! I’m also Hinata, that’s not any better!”

“Hm. The dumbass has a point,” Kageyama admits.

“Natsu-kun and Shouyou-kun,” Shirabu settles on reluctantly, looking at Natsu for confirmation. “...Tendou already calls you that, so it’s fine, right?”

“Works for me!” Natsu waves him off, beginning to stretch her legs. “Let’s crush them, Shirabu-san. Shouyou is still terrible at receiving so just aim for him.”

“NATSU YOU SUCK AT RECEIVES TOO!” Shouyou points at her, furious. 

“And yet I can return more of ‘em than you, how sad is that?” Natsu isn’t sure this is still true, but if she says it with enough confidence, her brother will crumble under the pressure. It’s very important to Natsu that she can still terrorize her twin once in a while. 

Shouyou howls. It’s music to her ears. 

Shirabu surveys the far side of the backyard court with cool detachment. “This will be easy.”

Kageyama starts sputtering in anger too. Natsu cackles, fist-bumping her setter. “Let’s do this!”

Shouyou and Kageyama beat them. Seeing them up close, Natsu has to admit that Kageyama and Shouyou had a setter-spiker chemistry unlike any other. Even though they didn’t pull off any quick sets in the yard, their partnership was a thriving, living thing to behold. Sshe could only imagine what it could grow into, given enough time. 

“This sucks,” Natsu declares, unfazed. “Shouyou, you always play with Kageyama, of course you’re better. Switch places with me!”

Kageyama looks a little upset by this, but Shouyou agrees readily to switching up the teams. “You’re on! Shirabu-san, don’t worry, we can take ‘em!”

“I’m not worried,” Shirabu replies flatly.

“We’re serving first!” Natsu holds the ball out to Kageyama with a grin. He takes it with a hesitant look, his mouth pressed into a thin, slanted line. “Just play, Kageyama-kun,” she reminds him, the same way she reminded Shirabu. “I think we can beat them, but if we don’t, feel free to blame it on me!”

This ends up backfiring on Natsu, because suddenly Kageyama scowls at her. “We’re going to win,” he says simply. And then Kageyama proceeds to do a full-blown jump serve in her backyard, overshooting the makeshift court by a long shot and landing it somewhere two houses over. 

Shirabu and Shouyou stare, shocked. “I’ll get it,” Shirabu sighs, jogging after the stray ball. (It's entirely possible that he volunteers solely for the chance at some peace and quiet.)

“BAHAHAHAHA!” Shouyou bursts into laughter, collapsing onto his knees and clutching his stomach. “What was that?!”

"Shut up, Hinata!" Kageyama growls at him menacingly, but Shouyou continues to roll around, absolutely losing it. 

Natsu, on the other hand, just turns to Kageyama with wide eyes. “You can jump serve?” she asks with surprise. 

“Well,” he grits his teeth, red-faced from his failure, “I can’t aim it very well, so it’s not really a weapon yet.”

“Lots of power, though,” Natsu points out. “And I know you went for Shouyou, it wasn’t that far off-target.”

Kageyama just grunts in reply as Shirabu returns with leaves in his hair, thoroughly unamused. 

“New rule,” Shirabu calls out. “No jump serves. I had to walk through a bush to get this thing.”

“No way!” Natsu protests at once. “I’ll get it next time it goes out of bounds—Kageyama, I wanna see another one,” she says eagerly. “Shouyou won’t be laughing when he’s gotta actually receive a serve like that!”

Kageyama looks skeptical, but he agrees with a tiny nod. “Move up,” he advises her in a clipped voice. “You’re also bad at receiving.”

“Hey!” Natsu complains, pretending to be outraged. “Just ‘cause you’re right doesn’t mean you have to say it!”

Despite their rocky start, Kageyama and Natsu win against Shirabu and Shouyou—which pisses off Shirabu and Shouyou so much that they demand a rematch. Kageyama is nearly grinning by the end of the game, fully enjoying the competition. They almost lost the volleyball no less than eight times, because Kageyama keeps up with his poorly-aimed jump serves and the Hinatas really are terrible at receiving, but even that isn’t enough to deter them from playing another set. 

After the second set, Shirabu and Shouyou get sick of each other and they swap teams again. At last, it’s Hinatas versus the setters. Natsu thinks that this match-up might be the best one yet.

Sure, Kageyama and Shouyou have great chemistry, but Natsu and Shouyou are loads better at teamwork than Shirabu and Kageyama. Natsu knows how Shouyou thinks, and he can guess how she’ll move without speaking out loud. Their receives are sloppy, but the two of them happily run down the ball in every play to keep it in the air. Natsu’s serves are crap, but she keeps aiming right between the two players and Kageyama and Shirabu keep miscommunicating over who should receive it. 

Shirabu and Kageyama lose to Shouyou and Natsu, in the end, simply because they keep arguing over each other’s sets. They’re both so offended about the loss that they can hardly look at each other. 

Still, Natsu thinks it all went pretty well, because Shirabu caves and lets Kageyama join them for dinner. 

Shirabu’s grandmother looks like she’s on cloud nine when the four of them trundle into her home that evening, tired and extremely hungry. And luckily enough, all the food is prepared and waiting for them on Granny Kiho’s dining room table. 

“For the record, I don’t like them,” Shirabu mutters under his breath to Natsu, “But now I’m too tired to argue with you.” 

Natsu only laughs in reply. “But it was fun, right?” she asks hopefully. Natsu definitely saw Shirabu laugh when Shouyou (briefly) got himself stuck in a tree. 

“Yeah,” Shirabu mumbles reluctantly, “It was.”

"That wasn't so bad, right?" Shouyou asks Kageyama quietly, walking him to the door. "Oh! And thanks for showing me that exercise!"

"Yeah," Kageyama says shortly, looking down. "No problem."

The silence stretches between them as Kageyama loiters on the sidewalk just outside the gate to Shouyou's house.

Shouyou tries to leave it at that, but he can't. "You should come over again sometime," he blurts out. 

"I should?"

"Yeah." Shouyou nods furiously. "For—more volleyball tips. And maybe other things too. Sometime."

Kageyama stares at him for a long, unfathomable moment. "Okay," he nods. "Um... bye now."

"Bye!" Shouyou feels lighter as he says it. "See you on Monday!"

Chapter Text

After practice, Natsu’s captain pulls aside the five first-year players and finally gives them the news about Golden Week.

Natsu stares, uncomprehendingly, at the captain and vice captain. Utsugi remains eerily stone-faced, but Aone stares back worriedly. 

“So… we’re not going to the camp?” Natsu repeats. 

Aone sighs. “Well, not exactly.”

“I’m not going to the camp?” Hirao pipes up, eyebrows knitted together.

“Thirteen. Only thirteen of us are going. The other players will train here with Dateko, Shirayuri and Ohgiminami for the week,” Aone explains reluctantly to the five first-year players. 

The five of them are lined up before her in the club room, and Aone sits with her legs folded neatly and her fingers laced together in her lap. Captain Utsugi hovers in the corner of the room, arms crossed.

“It was out of our hands,” the captain grumbles. “Something about the civic center going over its capacity. All teams are attending with their first-string players and two subs. When we get there I’m going to make sure whoever’s in charge of this shit knows they should be fired for overbooking the place. I thought it was fishy that the basketball teams were invited too, that’s over fifty students just from our school…”

“Alright, so tell us,” Yoshi picks at the dirt under her nail, studiously avoiding their gazes. “Coach Sameshima keeps experimenting with the starting roster, but you must know by now. Did any of us make the cut?”

“Hirao will benefit a lot more from the goalie program in the city,” Aone admits. Hirao lets out a squeak, and then she blushes deeply as she whisper-rants a variety of thankful words.

So that’s one substitution spot taken.

Natsu thinks she might vomit up her heart if she opens her mouth. She’d grown complacent on this team, content with being on the field only some of the time. They’ve had two more games since the Dateko one, and Natsu hasn’t scored since then. Sameshima rotated her into defensive and attacking positions in most games, but she wasn’t a starter every time like Aimi or Erina or Ikejiri or Sakaguchi or, or—

Head lowered, Natsu begins to count. 

Eleven players on the field. One substitute position open. 

There were six third-years with secure positions on the field. Who did that leave? The second-year, Erina, was their highest scorer, so that was spot seven taken for sure. Aimi too, as a defender, was definitely first-string. 

The captain groans loudly, interrupting her thoughts. “I know this sucks, so I won’t drag it out. Yoshi and Kitamura are going. Hinata, Yokoyama, I want you to know this isn’t a reflection on your abilities. I’ll have your training schedule worked out for the Miyagi camp by Monday…”

Natsu kind of loses track of what Rumi says after that, too shocked to listen. She looks up, looking between her teammates to gauge their reactions. 

“Well hang on,” Yoshi interrupts the captain crankily, a frown tugging at her mouth. “Why’d you pick me and Kitamura?”

“I’ll reiterate,” Rumi sighs. “It’s not a reflection of your abilities. We just needed defenders more than strikers to round out the team, and most of our second-years are attacking players.”

“Hinata’s a defender too,” Yoshi replies. 

“She’s kind of not,” Rumi raises an eyebrow. “I just place her there on the field for certain attacking formations.”

“You put her in the defensive third , that makes her a defender,” Yoshi argues, gesturing with her hands sharply. Natsu stares at her stubborn teammate, baffled. Was she fighting for Natsu to take someone’s place? 

Yoshi and Natsu were sort of friendly at this point, but they weren’t friends. They would partner together for warm-ups, put their bags side-by-side along the fence, and even sit at the same lunch table sometimes, but—Yoshi rarely talked except to verbalize her exhaustion or disgust with Hirao’s growing pile of dirty laundry. 

Natsu talked at Yoshi a lot, but that was about it. She would never expect Yoshi to complain on her behalf.

“Why are you arguing?” Aone voices the question on Natsu’s mind. “We can’t swap someone out for Hinata at this point, everyone else has already been told where they’d be training over the break.”

Yoshi folds her arms, resolute. “Because Hinata’s a commuter student,” she answers, like that explains everything. When the rest of them are silent, expecting her to say more, Yoshi rolls her eyes. “The rest of us live in the dorms,” she says, as if she’s elaborating to toddlers. “If Hinata stays in Miyagi she’s gonna be biking over a mountain every day to train, because the bus doesn’t run the same route over the holidays. The only other commuters on the team are first-strings going to the fancy civic-center camp, so the commute isn’t a problem for them.”

Natsu’s eyes widen. She hadn’t even thought of the bus schedule changes, but Yoshi was right. If she was only going to the academy for soccer practice every day, she’d rather bike than spend money on the bus fare. 

“Hang on, how far away do you live anyway, Hinata?” Yokohama wonders aloud.

All eyes turn to Natsu, and well, her brain is still stalling over the split training camp, so. “...Uh? I don’t know...” 

Yoshi kicks her in the knee. “Just take Hinata instead of me. It’s not a big deal,” she adds before Natsu can get a word out. “I don’t need to go, I’d rather see Tokyo,” she says, reminding them all of their end goal of making it to Nationals.

“I…” the captain looks between Yoshi, Natsu and Aone, baffled. “No one’s asking you to give up your spot, Yoshi. And if they did, I wouldn’t allow it.”

“I’m volunteering,” Yoshi replies frankly. 

“Why?” Aone asks.

“I already told you it’s not a big deal,” Yoshi shrugs. “There’s nothing more to it.”

Natsu looks at Yoshi for a long moment. “Are you just trying to slack off?” she asks at last. 

“What?” Yoshi’s head snaps towards her. “What did you just say to me?”

Natsu swallows dryly, intimidated by the dark expression Yoshi wears. Still, she keeps talking. “I can’t figure it out. Suddenly you’re a martyr, volunteering to stay back? There has to be a reason. I didn’t ask to be picked for this.”

“But you did ask to be first-string,” she replies cuttingly. “Or has that changed, Hinata?”

Something about Yoshi’s taunting tone makes Natsu even more frustrated. “I’m not taking your spot,” she declares, even though every atom of her being wants to seize the opportunity to keep playing on the starting roster. “It’s not right.”

Her teammate stares, incredulous at first, and then annoyed. “Now who’s the martyr?” Yoshi scoffs. 

“I’m going to train just as hard in Miyagi as I would at any other camp,” Natsu snaps. “And like you said, it’s no big deal , ‘cause we’ll all be in Tokyo anyway this fall!”

“That’s not a guarantee! We’re not even halfway through the regulation season!” Yoshi explodes, gesticulating furiously. “What if we don’t make it?”

“Guys, cut it out,” Yokoyama says halfheartedly, leaning away so Yoshi doesn’t elbow her.

“Then why’d you bring it up as a reason to stay back in Miyagi?!” Natsu demands, pointing a finger in the defender’s face. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Get that outta my face!” Yoshi draws back her hand and tries to whack Natsu’s finger out of the way as hard as she can. Natsu pulls back with a squeak, echoed by a terrified Hirao. “Nothing’s wrong with me! Stop being an idiot and take my spot!”

“No!” Natsu yells, planting herself like a tree. “You don’t get to decide that! You’ve been in practically every game, why would you want to train away from the first-string players?”

“I could say the same about you! Stop being noble, you just sound pretentious and it makes me sick!”

The captain and vice captain slowly inch backwards as the first years begin to raise their voices. 

“So… this isn’t going well,” Yui states the obvious. 

“Why are they mad at each other instead of me?” Rumi asks, looking rather helpless. “Maybe—maybe I should leave both of them in Miyagi for the break, they’re being childish.”

“No,” Kitamura interrupts, quietly appearing next to the captain. The other first years haven’t noticed yet. Kitamura looks exceptionally calm when contrasted with the likes of Yoshi, Hirao and Hinata. She inclines her head deferentially. “Captain… If you only picked me to even out our defenders and attackers, that’s not worth what you’re losing by not taking Hinata.”

“Kitamura,” Yui frowns at her. “You shouldn’t—“

“I’m not trying to put myself down by saying that,” Kitamura adds softly. “I swear I’m not. I know I’m a good player. But Hinata’s got way more raw stamina than me. Anything we lose without another defender, Hinata’s got the energy to make up for it.”

Yui’s gut reaction is to admonish Kitamura for giving in so easily. As much as Yui enjoyed the competitive streak pushing her team towards Nationals every year, she couldn’t let individual players think they were somehow lacking in skill when each and every one of them had already done so much to prove they belonged on the team. Kitamura earned her place, and Yui wasn’t the type of team leader to let her think otherwise.

“You realize we’ll be doing new formations without you,” Rumi says quietly, staring down the first year intently. “And we will be unbalanced if I bring Hinata, you’re right. If anything, I’ll be making her work even harder to fulfill my expectations for the team. We have an extra game at the end of Golden Week, too. You’re not doing her any favors by swapping spots.”

“I think I’m doing the team a favor,” Kitamura counters, before looking away timidly. “I’ve been thinking a lot about our playing style, and I think we can rely more on Hinata than we’re doing. And, like those two have been saying, training in Miyagi isn’t a downgrade. We still have scheduled games against Dateko, Shirayuri, and Ohgiminami after Golden Week. If I can learn more about those teams, that’ll help us too."

Rumi is silent for a while, weighing the pros and cons. “Alright,” she says loudly, catching the attention of Yoshi and Hinata before they can start pulling each other’s hair. “Hinata, Ariyoshi, and Hirao. You three are going with us.”

“Huh?!” Natsu cries. “But—Kitamura?!”

“Shut up,” Rumi snaps. “No more questions. As the only first-years at the camp, you three are going to be responsible for a lot more of the prep work than the rest of us, got it?” The three of them nod furiously. “Listen closely. If you don’t follow our itinerary, you’ll get less playing time. Get up and follow me, I’ll make copies of our schedule…”

The three first-years scramble to their feet and trot after Rumi like little ducklings. That leaves Yui to deal with Kitamura and Yokoyama. 

“It’s alright,” Kitamura says earnestly. “Really, Aone-san. I’m fine.”

Yui's attention shifts to Yokoyama, who just flops over on the ground. “Man, I just wanted to get out of Miyagi for a week,” she admits with a sheepish smile. “But I don’t mind staying back.”

The goalie sighs. “I’m sorry we have to split up the team like this. Thank you for understanding.” She bows deeply to the two of them.

“Aone-san! Don’t bow, you’re making it weird!” Yokoyama yelps, pushing her shoulder up. “Don’t worry about us, worry about Yoshi and Hirao trying to share a room!”

“What do you mean?" Yui blinks at them. 

“Yeah,” Kitamura adds. “Seriously, those three are gonna give you so much trouble. Are you guys going to be okay?”

“Hirao is a slob,” Yokoyama warns her. “It makes Yoshi cranky when she sees it in the dorms.”

“And Yoshi gets into fights. Did you know she almost got suspended?”

“Hinata will probably get lost. Like, I don’t have any proof, but I get that kind of vibe from her.”

“Hirao leaves the flat-iron on…” Yokoyama and Kitamura continue to exchange anecdotes, cheerfully discussing the many flaws of the three other first-years. 

Yui smiles, relieved. Wherever her teammates end up, she knows they’ll be okay.

Lunch the next day is awkward, or at least Natsu feels awkward, because two seconds after she greets Ideguchi and Goshiki, her teammate Yoshi plops herself down in the open seat next to Natsu. Even before the whole debate yesterday about who’s going to the Golden Week camp, this would be a strange occurrence. Ariyoshi and Goshiki are a rare combination that has Natsu feeling nervous. Out of all her classmates, she likes Yoshi and Goshiki the best—if she doesn't count Shouyou—but their personalities are so different. 

Not to mention Ideguchi, from the boys’ soccer team. He’s a lot like Tendou: he’s energetic and talkative, but he likes to tease a little too much.

“Hello,” Natsu greets her tentatively, watching Yoshi rip off her uniform jacket like it’s on fire, and then, incongruously, lay it on the bench delicately and precisely so it doesn’t brush against the ground. Yoshi is full of contradictions like this, and Natsu never really knows what to expect from her. 

“H-Hi Yoshi-san,” Goshiki tacks on, leaning over from Natsu’s other side. 

Yoshi replies with a nod and a simple “Yo” to both of them while she takes out some homework and puts them next to her lunch tray. 

Ideguchi and Goshiki glance at Natsu for direction, but she reacts with a hapless shrug. Natsu hasn’t had the chance to explain the whole Golden Week camp complications yet—Ideguchi might already have an idea about it, since his team was also in the midst of splitting up its players, but the volleyball team would be in Miyagi for the break, playing practice matches against a few local colleges. 

“Are those your notes for molecular biology?” Yoshi asks suddenly, brow furrowed.

Natsu doesn’t have any notebooks out, but—Yoshi is speaking to Goshiki, who is surrounded by a sad pile of loose papers. 

“I—yes?” Goshiki’s eyes dart between his papers, Natsu, and the neat array of supplies around Yoshi. “Oh, we’re—we’re in the same lab class, aren’t we?” he says suddenly. “I’m studying for it. The lab, I mean.”

“We have a practical quiz next period,” Yoshi states, eyeing the crumpled papers around him like they’re live bugs. Without asking for permission, she leans over and uses the eraser end of her pencil to flip through Goshiki’s notes. “You did terribly on the last one.”

Ideguchi barks out a laugh, and Natsu kicks him in the shin.

“I—” Goshiki clamps his mouth shut, cheeks glowing. “How did you know about that?”

Yoshi rests her head in one hand, grimacing. “I didn’t.”

Natsu winces in sympathy for Goshiki. He slumps on the table, thoroughly put out by Yoshi’s assessment. Then Yoshi slaps her notebook back onto the table, narrowly missing Goshiki’s head, and he scrambles backwards with a screech. 

“Wh-What did I do?!” he cries. Natsu dives for the water bottle he elbowed off the table, catching it before it hit the ground. 

Yoshi glares at Goshiki like he’s a stain on her shoe. “Those are my notes from the last practical quiz.”

Goshiki’s eyes go round with wonder. “I can look at them?!”

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Yoshi warns, scowling at him one last time before turning her attention to her lunch tray.

After a few moments of contemplation, Goshiki ducks his head and starts looking over the notes.

Natsu is baffled. She exchanges looks with Ideguchi, who is equally stumped. “I’ve never seen you share your notes, Yoshi,” Natsu points out tentatively. 

“What of it?” Yoshi doesn’t even look up from her food. 

Natsu glances back at Goshiki, who doesn’t meet her eye for some reason. “It’s just that—you’ve been very nice lately for no reason,” Natsu explains, and then she immediately regrets saying it. 

But Yoshi, instead of jumping down her throat for insinuating she’s a mean person, simply lifts her head and levels Natsu with a flat look. “I owe this bowl cut guy a favor.”

“You do?” Natsu and Goshiki ask simultaneously.

“I mean—!” Goshiki’s eyes go wide again. “I don’t know about that, ha ha…” 

It isn’t surprising that Goshiki looks nervous—he’s always been like that around Yoshi, during the few times they’ve spoken. What’s weird to Natsu is the utter exhaustion that suddenly shows on Yoshi’s face, like she’s been asked to stand up in front of an auditorium and give a lecture. 

“Oh ho ho, this should be good,” Ideguchi chuckles, leaning in. Yoshi instantly throws him a nasty glare, which only makes Ideguchi laugh louder. “Spill it, Ariyoshi, or I’ll just ask Goshiki.”

“It’s nothing!” Goshiki immediately exclaims, voice going high and squeaky. “No big deal! I didn’t do anything! I don’t know anything…”

Natsu winces. Goshiki isn’t known for his secret-keeping abilities. 

Yoshi rolls her eyes again, groaning into the crook of her arm. “Last week at the Dateko game, he helped me stay out of trouble with campus security.”

Natsu’s eyes go wide. “Huh?”

“Boo, that’s boring!” Ideguchi cries. “Ow! Hinata, stop kicking me!”

“Why were you in trouble in the first place?” Natsu asks, ignoring him. 

“None of your business—”

“Her friend showed up without a pass,” Goshiki accidentally speaks over Yoshi and looks like he just signed his own death warrant. “I mean—I don’t know, it’s none of my business?”

“You have friends?” Natsu blurts out, and then cringes. “I mean you have friends outside of the Academy?” she speaks up before Yoshi can start scowling again. 

Yoshi still glares at her, but she kind of deserves it. “He’s not my friend.”

“You’ve got a MAN?” Ideguchi hollers. “OW! Stop it!” This time both Natsu and Goshiki kicked him.

“No,” Yoshi grumbles. “It was a misunderstanding,” she says reluctantly. “And obviously we’re not friends, he’s just—an asshole I know.”

Goshiki nods in agreement, which just shocks Natsu more. “Then… why did he show up to our game?” Natsu wonders. “And who is he? What’s his name? Did I meet him?”

“Kyoutani,” Yoshi says shortly. “He might show up again, so I might as well tell you. He’s got a shitty blonde dye job, with two black stripes along the side. Don’t talk to him, he’s a jerk.”

Goshiki is still nodding, agreeing with every word. 

“Shitty blonde hair,” Ideguchi muses. “Does that mean he’s the one that bleached your shitty hair too?”

“Ideguchi!” Natsu warns him. “Stop it!”

The soccer player cackles. “What, Hinata? I’m just speaking the truth...”

Yoshi checks her watch. Then she casually reaches over and pushes Ideguchi’s open bottle of orange juice into his lap, making him squeal in shock. “NO! AHH—” Ideguchi quickly stands, almost tripping over his chair as he picks up the carton. “SHIT! YOSHI, THIS IS WHY WE’RE NOT FRIENDS—”

Natsu pushes the napkin holder over to him hastily, shaking her head. “I tried to warn you, Ide!”

“She did warn you,” Goshiki echoes, not even looking surprised. Natsu thinks he’s just relieved that Yoshi isn’t mad at him for anything. 

“That doesn’t mean you can just pour juice on my pants!” Ideguchi hisses at Yoshi. “Who does that?!”

“No need to cry over spilled juice,” Yoshi deadpans. “There’s twenty minutes left for lunch. It takes me about eight minutes to get from here to the dorms, plus a few minutes to change, and another eight to get to class, so… run, Ideguchi,” she advises.

“I—!” Ideguchi looks flabbergasted. “Ooh, I’m gonna get you back for this,” he wails. Then he shovels the rest of his lunch into his mouth and takes off in a dead sprint for the dorms. 

Yoshi, being oddly considerate again, wipes down the mess left on the table as if nothing had ever happened. She doesn’t even look annoyed anymore. 

Goshiki and Natsu exchange mildly terrified looks, not knowing how to continue the conversation after that.

“Oh,” Yoshi says after a few moments, glancing up at them. “About Kyoutani. He’s my cousin, not a boyfriend. That'd be gross.”

“Ah,” Goshiki nods thoughtfully, sweating bullets. “That makes sense. Thanks for the notes, Yoshi."

"Don't mention it."

The thing is, Natsu didn’t put a lot of thought into what going to a training camp would actually mean for her. Shouyou’s camp was in Miyagi, not far from his school at all. Natsu’s teammates that were staying in Miyagi would stay on-campus in the dorms. But up until now, Natsu’s captain had only referred to the other training camp as the ‘city camp’. 

She assumed they meant a city other than Sendai, the capital of their prefecture, but beyond that, Natsu hadn’t paid attention to the details. 

What Natsu does know is that Shiratorizawa is renowned for its athletic programs, and part of that is their extensive list of alumni and connections to other programs. In the case of their soccer clubs, the Academy actually has contacts all over the country.

She also knows that since Shiratorizawa is a private school with a dorm system, their school breaks are different; Natsu has ten days off, while Shouyou only has five. 

When Rumi was picked to be captain at the end of her second year, she began her plans to bully the administration into giving them more funding for camps and training weekends. She wrote up several open-letters to the principal, Coach Sameshima called up every coach she knew, and now, months later, Natsu and the rest of her team were packing for a nine-day trip to… 

Kobe.

“That’s awesome, Nacchan!” Shouyou cheers when she breaks the news. “But, where the heck is Kobe?”

Natsu’s smile is strained. She’d been hoping to avoid that question until she could look it up on her laptop. “It’s a city, but… uh....” To be honest, Natsu can only be certain that it’s part of Honshu, like Miyagi is. And it’s also famous for… beef? For some reason, she’s drawing a blank on the issue. “I… don’t remember where it is.”

Her twin almost does a spit take. “Whaddya mean?!” Shouyou roars with mean-spirited delight. “So you don’t know everything after all, eh? It's basic geography—of our country!”

“I know it, I just don’t remember! I just need to look it up!” Natsu snaps, blushing. “Everyone was super excited about it, Rumi was so proud of herself, so I didn’t want to ruin the mood and ask. And you don’t know either! I think it’s… near the ocean? The third years were talking about it being really hot and muggy there. And there’s a beach. So it’s south of here, probably.”

“Probably,” Shouyou repeats, staring in disbelief. “Natsu, Japan is an archipelago . Everything is surrounded by the ocean!”

“Shut up,” Natsu whines, scooting over to her laptop and waiting for it to boot up. They were lucky enough to each have their own computers, but man was the internet slow. “I’m looking it up now, ugh.”

“Yeah, yeah.” As the clunky laptop powers on, Shouyou rolls onto his back, staring up at his math worksheet. “Natsu, which of these formulas do I use here? And what is r anyway?”

She skims the homework sheet absently. “The second one,” Natsu answers. “The r means radius . The other formula is for finding the circumference.”

“Ok, that’s what I thought. Ugh, why did we need to learn both?” Shouyou whines. “Having two similar formulas is confusing!”

Natsu types into the search bar to look for the city of Kobe. “Is there a question about cylinders on the worksheet?” She prompts him.

“Yes!” Shouyou gripes. “Hey! Where’s the formula for cylinders? I know we solved one in class,…”

Natsu smiles to herself smugly. She may not know where Kobe is, but she does know geometry. “A cylinder has two circles and a rectangle in it, so combine those formulas,” she advises him.

“...I see the circles, but there’s no rectangle, it’s a tube… oh, I get it.” Shouyou mutters to himself. “But there’s no...? OH. That’s why I need the… ah, I got it now.”

Natsu reads the search engine results, scrolling down to the map images. “Okay, here it is.” Shouyou pauses in his scribbling and awaits her answer. “Kobe is the sixth-largest city in Japan—shut up Shouyou, I know I should know this—and capital city of… Hyogo Prefecture in… the Kansai region,” she says out loud. 

Natsu blinks, looking up and making eye contact with Shouyou. 

“HYOGO?” The twins holler simultaneously. 

“THAT’S SO FAR FOR A TRAINING CAMP!” Shouyou screams, math problems abandoned, fluttering to the floor around them.

“I THOUGHT I’D BE IN SAITAMA,” Natsu grabs at her hair, tugging harshly.

“NATSU I’VE NEVER EVEN BEEN TO TOKYO, FORGET ABOUT HYOGO PREFECTURE.”

“AND YOU THINK I HAVE?!” 

“THEY DON’T EVEN SPEAK OUR DIALECT IN HYOGO.”

“I’M GONNA COME BACK WITH TWELVE THOUSAND MOSQUITO BITES.”

“YOU’RE GONNA COME BACK SPEAKING KANSAI-BEN.”

“WHAT IF I GET LOST? I CAN’T BIKE HOME FROM THERE!”

Shouyou clutches her shoulders and shakes her vigorously. Her heart is racing. “I can’t believe this, Nacchan! You’re LEAVING. You’re moving on without me!”

“Nine—days!” Natsu wails, getting dizzy as she shakes Shouyou back. “It’s only nine days but it’s like a billion kilometers away—“

“Oh my GOD, Nacchan!”

“I knooooow!”

In Osaka, the Inarizaki High School athletic clubs were getting similar news about their training camp in the capital’s largest civic center. There would be a tournament set up for the basketball teams, a new training program for soccer clubs, and open practice gyms for volleyball teams. Also… something-something-baseball-team-stuff, but at that point, Miya Atsumu had stopped listening. 

“We’re gettin’ some clubs from all over the country for this year’s camp,” an advisor explains, “And some o’ the matches will be open to the public ta help boost the civic center’s popularity.”

“Why not boost fundin’ too, and charge for tickets?” Atsumu mutters to Suna. “People would pay ta see me practice, wouldn’t they?”

“This is a club, Atsumu,” Aran admonishes, overhearing the two of them. “We don’t get paid to play.”

“Not yet , we don’t,” Atsumu looks smug as he imagines getting scouted in Kobe.

“I would pay to never see you,” Suna counters, not even looking his way. 

“I’d pay double for that,” Osamu adds.

“Y’all are so jealous, I swear ta God—“

“Not jealous, just tired.” Suna interrupts.

“Tired of yer shit.” Osama continues. They fist-bump without looking. 

“Fuck off.”

Kita Shinsuke clears his throat. Atsumu, Osamu, Suna, and Aran all straighten up, backs ramrod straight as they fall silent. Kita was only named captain in March, just before the third years graduated, but he acclimized himself to his new role in no time. The second-year players can feel his gaze on their backs, burning holes into them. 

For once, it isn’t just the Miya twins that are in-sync, but Aran and Suna as well. Kita’s gonna kill us as soon as the meeting’s over, ain’t he?   they all think miserably. 

“This is the biggest Golden Week training camp we’ve ever participated in,” the coach continues sternly. “There’ll be teams an’ scouts at this camp from all over the country. Please, try ta take this seriously, and be professional. This ain’t ain’t no spa retreat, and this ain’t the time ta slack off. No funny business, boys.”

Chapter Text

It happens at the last second, minutes before Natsu’s team departs for their training camp. It’s the crack of dawn, and Natsu is practically sleepwalking. She was too excited to sleep properly the night before, and she’s tired. This is her excuse for not stopping Yunohama from confessing to Rumi in the most horrifically public, cheesy, and awkward way possible. (Not that she’d have any way to stop him once he had his heart set on confessing.)

Chapter Text

As Rumi warned them, the first-year players were tasked with a lot of managerial work on top of their practices with the team. That meant that Natsu had to get up early and pack dozens of rice balls for the team today. Full meals were at the inn, but the onigiri would serve as a mid-afternoon snack. 

“Man, some of these schools just get the coolest uniforms! Did you see that silver and green team? They looked so intimidating!” Natsu chatters, happily spooning short-grain rice into her palm. 

“And then there are other schools that get puke-yellow jackets… hideous,” Ariyoshi shakes her head, setting a finished onigiri in their bin. There were two more students milling around the kitchenette, but it was still very early and very quiet at the inn. 

“Well, it’s not really their fault. I mean, just look at our uniforms! I hate the lilac warm-up jackets. And maroon-purple jerseys, ugh! It’s so ugly!” Natsu gripes. “It clashes with my hair, I look awful in it!”

“That’s not the uniform’s fault,” Yoshi points out, grinning slightly. “You look like that without the jersey too.”

Yoshi continues her work at the counter for a few moments, not registering the silence at first. When she finally looks up at Natsu, she finds that the ginger girl is staring right at her. There’s a clump of rice in Natsu’s hand, just hovering in mid-air, like she stopped halfway through the process to give Yoshi her full, undivided attention.

“Um,” Yoshi stares back. “What?”

“Did you just call me ugly?” Natsu asks patiently. Her eyes are wide and fathomless. 

For once, Yoshi genuinely can’t tell what Natsu is feeling. The ginger girl is usually so expressive, her thoughts written all over her face, but this neutral look is so indecipherable it’s starting to unnerve Yoshi. 

“Yeah,” she stalls. “But it’s just a joke?” The words feel weird in Ariyoshi’s mouth, unused to apologies or appeasements. It probably sounds insincere. She and Hinata were friends, but it didn’t make her any less abrasive. This was far from the first time she’d picked on Hinata, but the ginger girl never really pushed back or looked too offended by it. 

“Hm,” Natsu nods once, looking back down to continue working on her onigiri, fanning the rice so it isn’t too hot to handle.

When she says nothing more on the matter, Yoshi begins to relax, and eventually she goes back to work as well. Still, the silence between them seems tainted now, not by tension but by guilt. Yoshi wasn’t always sure when she went too far with teasing people, but it feels like she must’ve crossed a line or something now. 

The silence stretches awkwardly between them.

After debating it for another two rice balls, Yoshi sighs and closes her eyes. “Look, I—huh?” She feels a sudden tug on the front of her shirt and opens her eyes in time to see Natsu slap a handful of warm rice down her front with vengeance in her eyes. 

“What the FUCK!” Yoshi screams, jerking away. “No! STOP! WHAT THE HELL?!”

“What, you thought I was gonna take that lying down?!” Natsu hollers, moving into her space to wipe the remnant grains of rice all over Yoshi’s face. “You think you’re funny?! I think this is a better joke!”

“Ew, ew, ew,” Yoshi can’t even be bothered to fight back, she can feel rice getting into her bra, clinging to her skin, and it is gross. She slaps Natsu's hand away. “Ew, ew, why?!” she wails, rushing to the sink to start de-ricing herself. “Dude, it’s in my bra!”

“Don’t make fun of me and we won’t have this problem!” Natsu snaps, feeling the same wild fire in her chest as she did when she poured a can of soda over Semi Eita. It’s a little different this time, though, because fighting back against someone like Ariyoshi requires strategy. Rice everywhere, sticking to everything—Yoshi would end up contaminating the clean rice they were preparing if she tried to pick a fight, and Yoshi won’t do that. And Natsu knows it. 

“Come oooon,” she whines, still hovering over the sink and looking like she’d like to jump in and stay there. “It’s in my bra, you bitch!” she hisses. 

“You have twenty minutes before breakfast,” Natsu says, fighting all her baser instincts to laugh or cry or run far away so that she can look at Yoshi with a straight face. “That’s enough time to rinse off and change clothes!”

Yoshi’s jaw drops. This is the exact same thing she did to Ideguchi. She growls, continuing to pick out the grains of sticky rice from her shirt. “I didn’t mean to say you were ugly,” she grumbles under her breath. “I have rice on my boobs now.”

Someone behind Natsu barks out a laugh and promptly knocks over a tower of plastic containers all over the counter. Natsu startles at the noise, having forgotten he was even there. 

“Don’t look, dumbass,” Yoshi snaps, glaring over Natsu’s head. “Mind your business!”

“My bad,” the stranger mumbles, clumsily gathering up the plastic tubs. 

“I’ll finish making these,” Natsu offers, feeling a little bad for her now. “Go change your clothes.”

Yoshi doesn’t hesitate to duck out of the kitchen and head for her room. 

Natsu doesn’t realize her heart is pounding until Ariyoshi is gone. She’s half-convinced that her teammate is going to storm back in to kick her ass—but after a few minutes, there is no retaliation to be seen, and Natsu sags against the kitchen counter like a puppet with its strings cut. 

As she’s cleaning up the rice from the floor and counter, the remaining student in the kitchen pipes up again. 

“Damn,” he mutters from the other work counter. “Y’all are crazy.”

Natsu glances at the newcomer, pursing her lips. He’s probably a third-year, judging by his height, so Natsu isn’t sure why he’s up so early in the first place. And Yoshi! She nearly flashed her boobs at him. Ugh, the guilt was already coiling in Natsu’s gut. 

“That’s quite the glare,” he remarks, raising his hands in a show of no harm. “And I’m not the one callin’ you ugly.” He pauses. “You’re not ugly, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Natsu huffs, eyes darting around. There had been a team manager in the kitchen and Natsu had waited until she’d left before attacking Yoshi with rice, but she hadn’t noticed the other student in the corner. She hadn’t meant to do all that in front of a stranger…

“Are ya gonna sling rice at me too?” he drawls, a slow grin emerging on his face. “That’d be a real disservice to the grain, wastin’ it like that.”

…Sling what? Disservice to who? 

Natsu pieces together his question belatedly, confused by his dialect. He was clearly teasing her, though. And on top of that, the longer she looks at his face, the more aware of his face she becomes. He has big brown eyes and heavy eyebrows, and his smile pulls more to one side, giving him a boyish dimple on his cheek. 

Yoshi’s really gonna kill me. I embarrassed her in front of a cute guy!

“Uh. I haven’t decided yet,” Natsu answers tentatively, hoping she comes across as cooler than she feels. “But probably not, I have a lot to make.”

“Mmhm…” he hums, and Natsu focuses her eyes on her rice. She thinks that’s the end of things and gets back to shaping the triangular rice balls, but then he pipes up again and says, “Yer not ugly, but some of those rice balls are lookin’ real sad right now.”

Her head snaps up. “Hey!”

He holds up his hands again, his grin widening enough for a dimple on each cheek. “I’m only bein’ honest!”

“And I’m honestly still thinking about throwing rice at you,” she huffs, suddenly deciding that a nice smile isn’t enough to save him. “Don’t insult my onigiri!”

Then her eyes fall to the bin in front of him, and the several neat rows of onigiri inside it. Perfectly shaped and equal-sized across the board. There was even a little pocket of square-cut nori wrappers on the side, separated from the rice so it wouldn’t get soggy. They look undeniably better than Natsu’s.

Life feels very unfair.

“Oh, these here?” he says smugly, lifting his chin with obvious pride. “They look pretty good, huh?”

Eventually Natsu had gotten the hang of how to shape the rice, but her first eight or nine onigiri attempts were pretty terrible, and she still couldn’t make them very uniform. At home, Natsu used a rice mold like a normal person, but there weren’t any available in the inn’s kitchen area. They were certainly edible, but Natsu just wasn’t used to making so many rice balls at once. 

“So what?” Natsu mutters, thoroughly envious. “That doesn’t mean you have to make fun of my stuff!” 

He slouches, looking exasperated. “Well if you’d let me finish, ya would’ve known I was gonna offer t’help you make more.” 

“Huh?” Natsu stares, flabbergasted. He looks completely serious, and she doesn’t know what to make of it. “Then why’d you start off by making fun of me?!” she squeaks, not sure if she’s angry or embarrassed now. 

“‘Cause they do look bad, you should be ashamed of yerself,” he replies mildly. Natsu gasps in outrage, but he continues blithely, “Can’t be served to anyone, they oughta be eaten now instead.”

She squints. This guy is giving her whiplash. “Wait. You wanna eat them? You just said they were ugly!” 

“Yeah. I’m not allowed to eat any of these yet,” he points a thumb at his own bin of rice balls. “And good food ain’t always pretty.”

“I’m not supposed to eat these yet either,” Natsu points out, brow furrowed as she assesses her row of onigiri and the pot of hot rice. He was already clearing up his workspace, so he must’ve run out of rice. “I mean, I guess we might have enough rice here for extras?” 

“You can make another fifteen with the leftover rice, or twenty if they’re filled,” he says with complete conviction. “That other manager left some tuna in the pantry, I’ll help you if you let me eat the sad-lookin’ ones.”

Natsu examines his face, trying to figure out his logic. There was a whole food court waiting at the civic center that every student had access to. Maybe it was too early to go there now, but he could just ask for some of the extra rice from her pot and make something for himself, or buy something from the nearest convenience store.

“Why do you want these so badly?” she wonders, eyeing the lumpiest of the tuna-filled rice balls. 

“I saw ya make ‘em,” he says frankly. “Way too much filing.”

“The filling is the best part!” Natsu argues.

“I know, that’s why I wanna eat ‘em,” he says with exaggerated slowness. “I’m hungry.” 

They’re taking too long, arguing like this. Natsu only has so much time to finish making these rice balls. “Okay, fine! Since you’re such an expert, you have to make two for every onigiri you eat,” she decides cautiously. 

“Hell yeah,” he fist-pumps suddenly, like he’s just scored a goal, and then he goes up to her bin of rice balls to pick out one for himself. “Ah, it’s hard t’choose just one…”

“You better help me,” she warns him, reluctantly amused. 

“Yes ma’am,” he laughs, and then immediately shoves a lumpy rice ball in his mouth. 

Natsu is flustered for a half a second when she hears his laugh, but thankfully he looks so ridiculous with food stuffed in his mouth that she can pretend it never happened. “Wash your hands,” she reminds him sternly, finally returning to the pot of rice and scooping up the next batch. 

“Mm-hm,” he hums back, still chewing enthusiastically as he rinses his hands and reaches for the hot rice. 

And Natsu thinks that’s the end of it for real this time, because she really is on a time-crunch now, but apparently this guy has a lot to say about onigiri. As soon as he finished eating, he’s back to chatting. “Ah, see, I knew the filling would be good,” he comments thoughtfully. “There’s a bit of spicy-somethin’ in it, what’d ya use?”

“Uh,” Natsu tries to split her focus between the rice in her hands and remembering whatever the heck she’d used for the tuna filling. “It’s… fermented chili, I think.” It’s the same stuff that Shirabu’s grandmother uses. “Gochujang?”

“Fer real? I’ve tried that b’fore, thought it was too intense,” he replies, setting down his first completed rice ball and starting on the second one. “‘Specially given the amount o’ filling in these. Usually ya gotta balance it out by usin’ a lot more rice to cut the heat,” he continues. “But maybe it was too much. Most other sauces are a lot milder, garlic-based sorta things, plus gochujang ain’t a sauce, it’s a paste, and it needs t’be thinned.”

“I mixed it with soy sauce,” Natsu offers, glaring at the rice falling apart in her hands while the other student places his second finished onigiri down and eats another one. “Or maybe you got the extra hot version… ugh, stop distracting me, I need to finish making these things,” she shakes her head. “How do you make them so quickly?”

Mouth full of rice again, he answers, “Practice.” He mutely points to his mouth and gives her a thumbs up for the onigiri. 

Natsu sighs. “At least they taste good.” And then, because she feels bad for shutting him down, she says, “If I had more time I would grill these, they taste great when they’re crispy.”

“Yaki onigiri,” he nods, talking in a low but eager tone. “That’s the fancy version. Takes forever t’make, but if ya brush on a sweet glaze? Oh man, I’d eat it fer dessert—“

For a while he’d been so quiet Natsu hadn’t even known he was in the room, but now she can’t forget he’s there, bumping elbows and keeping up a stream of rice-related musings. Natsu finishes behind schedule, with a lot more onigiri knowledge than she started with, but her pile of snacks looks a lot better than before. 

Then the rice ball guy off-handedly mentions that he was supposed to meet with his team almost fifteen minutes ago and Natsu, annoyed all over again, lets him off the hook with an extra-ugly onigiri and a half-hearted glare. 

“Thanks for the food!” he calls back to her, taking a huge bite of rice. He grins slyly, dimples showing, and runs out the door.

“If you choke, don't blame it on me!” Natsu packs up the rice balls for her team, quietly wondering if she’ll have to make more rice balls tomorrow.

After finishing up in the kitchen, Natsu jogs over to the cafeteria for breakfast. She gets to the top of the staircase just as the Ehime goalkeeper is leaving, and immediately blurts out, “YOU!” like a total creep.

The keeper is startled. “Me?!”

“Yes!” Natsu nods, “You’re the goalie for the Yamato Girls’ team! I’m Hinata, we were practicing on the same field yesterday!”

She nods hesitantly. “Er… yeah? Shiratorizawa?”

“Yes, yes, I’m from Miyagi! You were doing penalty practice—you’re so good!” Natsu exclaims. “What’s your name?”

“Aki,” she answers simply, tugging on the hem of her bright green shirt. “Or, um, it’s actually Akimoto, but just… Aki. Thanks.”

“How long have you been a goalie for?” Natsu wonders. “You looked really confident out there, I wouldn’t want to go up against you! Or, well maybe I do? I was wondering if you’d have time for extra penalty practice this evening? My goalie wants to practice too—” that was a little bit of a lie, but surely Natsu could convince Hirao or Aone to practice more, and it’d be easier if they rotated goalies, “—and you’re really talented, but I totally get it if you’re too busy or if you don’t want to practice with another team,” she concludes abruptly, running out of air. 

“Uh,” Aki says again, blinking a few times. “Yeah. That sounds good. My friend from Sentoku is a striker too, I could… yeah. I wanted to practice under the lights anyway.”

Natsu cocks her head. “Under the lights?”

Aki nods seriously. “Have you ever played a real game at night? There’s a different feel to it when you’re under those big floodlights.” 

Under floodlights, on a big field with a proper seating section for a real crowd of fans… no, Natsu hasn’t done anything like that yet. “That sounds awesome,” she says, eyes wide. “I’d love to. Where should we meet?”

Aki shrugs and takes out her phone. “I’ll have to check with my captain first. Just give me your number, and I’ll let you know?”

“Okay!” Natsu complies, delighted and shocked by how easily this was working out. Maybe Shouyou was right about her overthinking this stuff… 

“Um. I have to go now, but I’ll see you later? Hinata-san?” Aki says tentatively. 

Beaming, Natsu takes her phone back. “Yeah, yeah, I should probably go eat! Bye Aki-san!”

Since she scared off Ariyoshi and finished her chores late, Natsu eats her breakfast with the same enthusiasm that the rice ball guy did, shoveling food into her mouth and then running back to meet with her team. 

She recognizes the Itachiyama team as she heads out. “Good morning!” She waves at the two players she met. 

Sakusa, in the midst of placing a medical mask over his face, thoroughly ignores her. His captain, Iizuna Tsukasa, grins back. “Morning! Curfew’s at nine, Hinata-chan!”

“Tell that to your own team!” she laughs back, disappearing down the path to the fields.

Iizuna waves at her back, throwing Sakusa a sly look. 

“Who was that, Captain?” Komori, curious as usual, is the first to ask. 

“Hinata,” Iizuna repeats, chuckling. “She’s another curfew-breaker, like Sakusa over here.”

Sakusa has too much respect to glare at his own captain, but he stares at the ground like he wants to annihilate the pavement with heat vision. 

“Oh, so you know her too?” Komori raises an eyebrow. “Why were you out past curfew anyway?”

“I went to the convenience store,” Sakusa mumbles. “We talked on the way back and I lost track of time.”

“Really?” Komori is too observant. When Sakusa says he ‘talked’ that meant he exchanged more than one-word answers, otherwise it wasn’t worth mentioning. And if he talked enough to lose track of time, that meant Sakusa had actually been invested in the conversation. “About what?”

“Volleyball.” Sakusa looks at him like he’s an idiot. “What else?”

“Nevermind,” Komori shoots him a hopeless look. “I’m the fool for thinking you’d make a friend on your own…” 

Annoyed, Sakusa glances over his shoulder, looking for Hinata’s lilac jacket. He can’t see her anymore, but instead, he sees a group of very tall Shiratorizawa athletes. “Hello, Hoshino-san,” he greets the singular basketball player he both remembers and tolerates, nodding politely to him.

“O-Oh,” Hoshino jerks upright, eyes wide. His hair looks much neater today, no longer frizzy from the unexpected humidity of Kobe. “Hi, Sakusa-san,” he answers, looking surprised but pleased by the acknowledgement. 

Sakusa nods again, and then stares triumphantly at Komori. “Hoshino-san is a shooting guard," he says, as if to prove to Komori that he's made an acquaintance. 

“Do you even know what a shooting guard is?” Komori hisses at him, before smiling brightly at Hoshino. “Hey, are you going to breakfast? Let’s all sit together!”

“What? No,” Sakusa hisses back, pressing his elbow into Komori’s guts.

“Too late,” Komori whispers to him smugly. “Come with us, Hoshino-san!”

“Really?” Hoshino draws closer. They’re all walking in the same direction, but the curly-haired basketball player has begun to drift away from his team and towards Komori. “Okay,” he agrees timidly. “That sounds nice…” 

Komori immediately feels guilty. Hoshino’s looking at him like a giant puppy, all wide-eyed and guileless and trusting. “I’m Komori Motoya, I’m a libero and Sakusa’s cousin.”

“Nice to meet you,” Hoshino dips his head in a quick, polite little bow. “I’m Hoshino Tomoki,” he introduces himself fully. 

“Are you a first year?” Komori wonders. Hoshino stops at Komori’s side, looking down at him with a quizzical expression. 

Hoshino Tomoki, Shiratorizawa Academy’s 190 centimeter tall shooting guard, looks down at Komori and says, “No. Are you a first year?”

Komori cackles, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder. “Very funny! I couldn’t help but ask, you just look so lost!”

“It’s just my first time in Kobe,” Hoshino says, shrinking in on himself as they enter the cafeteria. Whether it’s because of the noisiness of the mess hall, or the fact that he has to duck to go through the door, Komori can’t tell. “I’m in my second year...”

“Me too! But I’m old, I turn seventeen next month. Sakusa’s the baby of the family,” Komori laughs.

Sakusa, not looking at either of them, mumbles, “Your sister just entered middle school, so I don’t know what you’re talking about...”

“Respect your elders, Kiyoomi!” Komori teases. Sakusa rolls his eyes when he thinks they’re not looking. 

Hoshino laughs a little, shyly covering his mouth with the back of his hand, and Komori decides right then and there that he’s adopting this giant basketball kid. Shiratorizawa can suck it. Hoshino is now his friend, and by law that meant Sakusa would also gain a friend. A win-win situation. 

“We should exchange contacts,” Komori suggests eagerly, taking out his phone to seal the deal. “What’s your number? Sakusa, you too.”

Sakusa glares a hole into the back of Komori’s head, but Hoshino’s face visibly brightens, and the nervous look on his face begins to fade. He repeats his phone number out loud, and Komori immediately texts him so that Hoshino can save his number too. Sakusa says nothing, but plods along after them as they pick up something to eat. 

After a few minutes of shuffling through the mess hall, the three of them find a quiet corner to occupy. Komori continues to drag the two of them into conversation, easily figuring out their common ground and chatting away. They talk, a little awkwardly at times, but soon it becomes obvious that they’re both quiet and calm athletes. With Komori as a buffer, it’s no hardship to sit together for a meal. 

At the end of breakfast, Hoshino’s phone buzzes with a message from a new number:

this is sakusa 🏐

As soon as Natsu meets up with her team, she makes eye contact with Ariyoshi and begins to sweat profusely. “Sorry,” she says at once.

Yoshi just looks at her, her expression unreadable. “For what part?”

Natsu fidgets. “Well. I thought it was just me and you in the kitchen,” she says, because saying anything else just wouldn’t be honest. “I didn’t mean for the rice guy to see you like that.”

After a moment, Yoshi snorts and crosses her arms. “You’re gonna buy me whatever I want from the convenience store.”

“Whatever you want,” Natsu nods fervently. “And you’ll stop making fun of me.”

Yoshi groans. “Yes, sheesh, I’m sorry,” she exhales, not meeting Natsu’s eyes. 

And that’s the end of it. Being friends with Ariyoshi is somehow extremely stressful and phenomenally easy at the same time.

Miya Atsumu passes by the soccer fields on the way to lunch, taking the scenic route so he can finally get a good look at the new civic center (and maybe avoid his captain so he doesn’t get stuck with any managerial duties like Osamu). 

On his way past field four, two girls resting under a tree notice him. One of them waves enthusiastically, and, working on reflex, Atsumu smiles and waves back at the cute ginger-haired girl. He even considers going over there and saying hello. But then he realizes that the other one is giving him murder eyes for some godforsaken reason, and he quickly walks away. 

“There you are,” Aran spots him, waiting at the mess hall entrance for him. “What took ya so long, Tsumu?”

“Nothin’,” Atsumu shudders, tugging off his hat and fixing his flattened hair. “Soccer girls are nuts, man. Stay away from field four.”

Chapter Text

Morning practice goes as usual. Natsu absolutely dies in the summer heat, only revived by the multiple water breaks that Rumi, bless her soul, demands that they take every twenty minutes. Aone also saves them all by carrying an excessive amount of sunscreen in her bag and patiently sharing it with several teammates so that no one burns. 

It’s during one of these water breaks that Natsu finally approaches Rumi, dragging Hirao and Ariyoshi along for moral support. 

“Penalty practice?” the captain repeats, sounding pleasantly surprised. “I thought you didn’t want to do those.”

“Yeah but... I suck at them,” Natsu says, sheepish. “So I should probably do it anyway.”

Rumi turns away thoughtfully, her long ponytail swishing behind her. “I’ll have to check,” she settles on. “Tonight we have to attend some kind of seminar on gym equipment,” she rolls her eyes, “As if we don’t know how to use a weight room already… Our schedule is extremely packed, and I don’t want to overwork you.”

“Oh,” Natsu deflates. It’s not a definitive no , at least. 

“What about Friday?” Ariyoshi suggests, idly brushing grass off her shirt. “It looks open, according to the itinerary.”

“Ooh, is that so?” Natsu perks back up. She doesn’t remember what’s listed for Friday, but Ariyoshi seems to have memorized it.

“You could do that,” Rumi shrugs casually, eyes flitting over the first years. She signals to Aone, and the goalkeeper approaches them just as the captain adds, “If you wanna give up our beach day, that is.”

Hirao gasps. Natsu’s head whips around towards the captain, and Rumi mutely puts a finger to her lips, asking for silence. 

“Beach day?” Natsu whispers, astonished. 

“That’s not on the itinerary,” Ariyoshi grumbles. 

“She did tell us to pack a swimsuit, though…” Hirao says, thoughtful.

Rumi grins briefly, clearly entertained. “It’s listed as a ‘weather-dependent event’ on Friday. There’s a local beach about ten minutes from here and I thought we could spend the afternoon there. Maybe even do a cookout.”

“Can we play beach soccer?” Natsu asks excitedly. 

“You haven’t told the rest of the team yet?” Hirao asks at the same time.

“If you’re not too worn out, you can play,” Aone promises, sliding her eyes over to Rumi with a distinct look of disapproval. “And we were supposed to tell everyone last night.”

The captain’s small grin morphs into a smirk. “Sakaguchi and Kunitake are planning to present a slideshow tonight about why I should let them go to the beach. I didn’t want to steal their thunder.”

“Oh yeah,” Natsu half-remembers being woken up to sign an informal petition on the bus ride to the airport, and then Rumi tossing the paper in the trash as soon as they got off the plane. “So it’s a surprise for our team?”

“Yeah, as long as you three can keep quiet for the day,” Rumi confirms. The three of them quickly vow to not speak of the beach day with any other teammates. “Great. By the way, Yui—“ the captain explains Natsu’s request for penalty kick practice with Aki. “What do you think? You noticed the Ehime player too, she’s good.”

Aone nods pensively. “Tuesday night, I can find a field. Maybe we’ll split it with the boy's team, since we only need one goal,” she decides. “And I’d like to join. Hirao, what about you?”

“Oh,” Hirao flinches, alarmed by the sudden question. “I, um, I could. But… we already have a schedule for goalie stuff, don’t we?” she points out shyly. “And… if I do extra practice, I want to do… conditioning. In the gym.” Hirao fixes her gaze on her hands, wringing them nervously. 

“Good,” Rumi says briskly, hands on her hips. “I’ll talk to the basketball team’s captain. I like her strength-training program, she can help.” Then the captain gestures to Aone. “Later, you’ll go with Yui to talk to a trainer. Nutrition is just as important as the rest of your regime.”

“R-Really? Okay.” Hirao looks deeply relieved by Rumi’s instant response. Natsu just marvels at her captain; it’s like she knew what Hirao wanted before Hirao did. 

“If that’s everything, then let’s get back to work,” Rumi says, raising her voice to draw the attention of the rest of the players. “Break’s over, ladies!”

After their morning drills, Natsu and Ariyoshi are in charge of handling the ball cart, which turns out to be ten times harder than expected. 

By the time Natsu and Ariyoshi are finished collecting the equipment, their team has migrated off the field and into the outer hallway to one of the civic center’s courts. A wave of giggles washes over the group of girls as Natsu approaches, making her curious. 

Hirao notices them first and, blushing, tells them, “It’s our basketball team. They got in trouble with the civic center director for their music...” 

“Hoshino’s team?” Natsu asks, quizzical. “What happened?”

“No, it’s the girl's team...” 

From the hallway, they could hear the distant argument going down on the basketball court, but the details were unclear. Yui and Rumi are trying to disperse the small audience eavesdropping at the doors.

“I don’t think there’s a problem here,” Sakaguchi, one of the third years, proclaims. “The girl's basketball team has great taste.” She’s openly smirking as she says this, and her girlfriend, Sugasawa, smacks her arm for it. 

Natsu doesn’t know what to make of that. Sakaguchi has a bit of a mean streak on the field, but Natsu hasn’t spent enough time with her to really know what she’s like as a person. 

“What’s wrong with their music?” Natsu asks, not sure if she wants to know the answer. She directs her question to Sugasawa, since she’s the quieter and politer of those two seniors. 

The third-year looks amused, but she doesn’t tease Natsu like Sakaguchi might. “You’ve never heard them in the weight room or anything?”

“Uh… no?” Natsu frowns. “I don’t remember…”

The girl's teams at Shiratorizawa didn’t exactly mingle between sports, but when their captains scheduled indoor conditioning days, the basketball, soccer, and track girls shared a gym. Natsu thinks back to the last time she was in the weight room, but she never pays attention to the music in there. It was hard enough just to focus on how to use the gym equipment properly without breaking it or herself. 

“Well, their music—”

“Hinata, Ariyoshi—take the ball cart upstairs,” Rumi calls out to them, cutting off Sugasawa. “Right now. We’re behind schedule.”

Ariyoshi rolls her eyes. “Seriously? We can’t just leave them here?”

“Yes,” Rumi snaps. 

Sensing trouble, Natsu grabs the cart and begins to pull it along. “Let’s go quickly, before the elevators get too busy,” she suggests. 

Grumbling complaints, Ariyoshi follows. 

She understands why her teammate is so annoyed. Natsu was no expert in urban planning, but it was pretty inconvenient that so much of the sports equipment was stored on the upper levels of the civic center. The first years would have to switch off each day to lug around the equipment—it’s day two, and it’s already getting old. 

To take their minds off of it, she brings up the basketball team again. 

“I liked the songs, they sounded fine,” Natsu dares to put in her two cents as she tugs on the ball cart to help it roll over a bump in the flooring. “What’s so weird about their music?”

Ariyoshi raises an eyebrow at Natsu before looking down, carefully steering the ball cart and training gear to the freight elevator. “You’re good at English, right? Most coaches aren’t fluent,” Yoshi prompts her as they turn the corner. She glances past Natsu to the elevator and gestures to it. “Go press the button, I think the doors are about to close.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know all the lyrics,” Natsu admits, jogging ahead. “Crap—!” The elevator doors close just as Natsu reaches them, and she quickly presses the button in hopes of catching it. Looks like she missed it, though.

“There’s a lot of idioms and metaphors in foreign songs that aren’t translated into Japanese,” Yoshi explains frankly, not even a hint of a smirk on her face. She’s terribly straightforward about this stuff, which Natsu both appreciates and hates.

“Euphemisms,” Natsu nods. “I get it. We’ve covered that in class.”

Ariyoshi raises a single eyebrow. “Yeah, well. Stuff like eating cake, watermelon, lollipops—they’re euphemisms for oral sex.”

“What?” Natsu stares at her blankly, completely caught off-guard. Behind her, the elevator dings. “You’re messing with me. What do watermelons have to do with sex?”

There’s a loud snort from behind Natsu. Yoshi’s eyes are wide. Natsu freezes in place, and her teammate’s gaze wanders to a point over her shoulder.

“Ah. You again,” Yoshi says evenly. “Rice ball guy.”

I had a good run. Now would be the perfect time for a higher power to smite me, Natsu thinks to herself. 

“Hello again,” replies a deep, familiar voice. Natsu finally bites the bullet and turns around. And of course, It’s the guy who makes onigiri, and as a bonus embarrassment, he’s standing beside an equally tall teammate of his, one with dark hair and hooded eyes. They’re both looking right at her. The two of them are in numbered pinnies, #11 and #10 respectively, and are accompanied by a ball cart filled with volleyballs. 

“Hi,” Natsu says, feeling about a centimeter tall. 

“Hi,” the rice ball guy repeats the greeting simply, his expression alight with amusement. He says nothing more, but there’s the faint outline of a smile on his face.

“Hey watermelon girl , aren’t you coming in?” The teammate, #10, prompts them, looking directly at Natsu. “There’s space for another cart.”

Natsu would very much like to die. There’s no way to recover from embarrassment of this magnitude.

Yoshi starts pushing the cart, and Natsu just stays still for a moment, considering the pros and cons of letting herself be run over by a cart full of soccer balls. With her luck, it probably wouldn’t kill her. In the end she just ducks her head and steps into the elevator, mortified. 

It’s quiet for a moment as the elevator doors close behind Ariyoshi. The freight elevators are especially slow. 

“So,” #10 speaks up again, “Watermelon, huh?”

Natsu’s head snaps up. Shut up , she mouths at Yoshi. 

Yoshi ignores her. “We were talking about music, actually,” she answers honestly.

“Really?” he asks, obviously skeptical. “It sure didn’t seem like it.”

Natsu bites the inside of her mouth, shaking her head at the boy to deter him from asking, but only the onigiri guy takes note of this. 

“It started with the basketball team,” Ariyoshi says, shamelessly. “The girl's team has a workout playlist full of songs about food. Except they’re all in foreign languages, so none of the coaches at school realize the lyrics are about eating.”

“Eating?” he repeats blankly. “But that’s not…” 

Yoshi just looks at him. And then she makes a ‘V’ with her fingers and sticks her tongue between them.

“I—okay—!” he splutters. “I get it, I didn’t need a freakin’ visual—”  

“You looked a little lost,” she says, overly sympathetic. “If you have a girlfriend, I feel bad for her.”

Natsu almost feels bad for this guy, there was no way he was ready for the kind of things Yoshi would say unsupervised. Rice ball guy hasn’t said a word this whole time, but when Natsu steals another glance at him, he has his head lifted to stare directly at the ceiling, deeply concentrating in order not to laugh out loud.

“I’m not dating—this is way too personal, why would you ask—?”

“Actually you asked,” Ariyoshi points out, almost sounding earnest now. “Watermelon Sugar, Cake by the Ocean, Candy, Moules Frites... They all translate to euphemisms about eating pu—”

“I-I said I get it!” he shushes her, alarmed. “I believe you, okay?”

Her teammate just shrugs, unashamed. “It’s pretty funny. The coaches didn’t have a clue.”

“That’s…” the dark-haired boy shakes his head, bewildered. His blush fades quickly, though, and Natsu is envious because her cheeks are still burning. “Which team is this again?”

“Basketball.” Yoshi takes out her phone and immediately shows him the public playlist as it’s listed in a music streaming app. It’s innocuously titled Summer Workout . “You can add it if you have the app.”

“Hm…” He adds it. 

Rice ball guy suddenly turns away and bangs his forehead on the side of the elevator, muffling his laughter in the sleeve of his shirt. “Kita’s gonna kill you, Suna,” he warns, his face still hidden. “I ain’t a part of this. I wasn’t here. I don’t know you.”

“Well I’m serious,” Suna says, a lazy grin crossing his face. “No one pays attention to the music while we’re in the gym. We could use a spicier playlist for practice.”

“Go for it,” Ariyoshi shrugs. “It took three months for someone to notice Watermelon Sugar.”

The elevator finally comes to a halt just as the topic changes to something bearable. “You’re not from here, right? What do you think of Kobe?” Suna asks as he pockets his phone.

Natsu marvels at how casually he’s trying to change the topic. This conversation is seared into her memory for life .

“It’s muggy as fuck out here,” Yoshi answers promptly, pulling the cart past the doors. Natsu snorts despite herself, and Suna grins. “I’m just being honest. Also the bugs are terrible.”

Natsu laughs, willing herself to stop thinking about watermelons. “I hate the mosquitoes, but there’s also fireflies,” she says thoughtfully, remembering how she felt on the first night away from home. “They don’t come out until July in Miyagi, I was so surprised to see them.”

Natsu hears a small huff of laughter from the rice ball guy. When she looks up at him, he’s smiling. “S’cute,” he tells her. “Or, uh, it’s real pretty when the fireflies are out an’ about, ya know?”

“It is!” Natsu agrees fervently. “And the ocean, the water , I can’t wait—we have an off day, so I’ll get to see the beach!” 

Yoshi raises a critical eyebrow at Natsu, asking a silent question that she fails to understand. Rumi said they couldn’t tell any teammates , but she said nothing about mentioning the beach to other students. And it’s not like the rice ball guy is gonna ruin the surprise for Natsu’s team.

“You guys get a beach day?” Suna interrupts, eyeing her incredulously. “Lucky you. I don’t think our captain loves us enough for that.”

Yoshi scoffs, sharing a look with Natsu. “If Rumi liked us we wouldn’t be stuck on ball cart duty.”

“But our vice captain loves us,” Natsu chimes in dutifully. “She doesn’t even like beaches, but she convinced the coaches!”

“I figured yer team would be too busy for somethin’ like that. When’s it happenin’?” the rice ball guy wonders, exiting the elevator after Suna. The wheel of their cart gets stuck in the gap under the door, and Natsu pauses to help them pull it free without knocking any volleyballs out. “Thanks. Yer beach day, when’s it?” he asks again, looking directly at Natsu. 

“Oh, Friday afternoon.” Natsu misses the calculating look on Yoshi’s face, and the amused look Suna tosses to his teammate. “Depends on the weather. As long as there’s no thunder or lightning, I’m going! I love the beach!”

“Oi,” Yoshi calls to her, leaning on the cart. “We’re gonna be late. C’mon.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Natsu rolls her eyes good-naturedly, returning to the soccer cart. 

The volleyball cart turns left, and the soccer ball cart turns right. “I guess this is where we part,” Suna says dryly. “Nice meeting you.”

Yoshi just gives them a lazy salute. “See you around!” Natsu calls back. 

The two girls duck into the spacious storage area their team has been allotted, letting the door slide shut behind them. As soon as the door clicks into place, Natsu collapses onto her knees in despair.

“Yoshi,” she wails, “I talked about oral sex in front of strangers! In front of the rice ball guy!”

“So what?” Yoshi rolls her eyes, picking out the equipment that’s stored separately from the cart. “I did too, you don’t see me wallowing over it.” 

“I’m not brave like you,” Natsu argues, leaning backwards and sliding completely onto the floor. Yoshi mutters something about the floor not being swept, and Natsu ignores her. “They’re gonna remember me as the watermelon girl.” 

She snickers, standing over Natsu with her hands on her hips. “Is that such a bad thing? Now every time rice ball guy sees you he’ll think of going down—“

Natsu takes a harsh swipe at her leg, trying to knock her over. “Shut up! No he won’t! Seriously! I don’t need that right now!” She snaps, but a few laughs escape from Natsu too. Ariyoshi has a point. They hadn’t looked at her weirdly, at least. Natsu rolls to her feet, recalling how red that teammate got when Yoshi started explaining the lyrics. And rice ball guy wouldn’t even look at them—

“Yoshi… do you remember the rice ball guy’s actual name?” Natsu asks suddenly. “I keep calling him ‘the rice ball guy’ in my head.”

Natsu had a pretty long talk with him in the kitchen, and he hadn’t said much in the elevator this time around. But in both cases—Natsu doesn’t remember calling him anything other than the rice ball guy. 

“That other guy’s name is Suna,” Yoshi offers with a slight frown. “I heard the rice ball guy say it. But I don’t think he ever told us… Also, I totally thought the rice ball guy was a blonde. Am I crazy?”

“Blonde?” Natsu snorts. “Why would you think that?”

“So—rice ball guy?” Suna asks, eyes sliding over to Osamu in question. 

Osamu shrugs. “I met ‘em earlier when I was packing onigiri at the inn,” he explains, picking up his belongings and following Suna to their meeting point with the team for lunch. “Funny girls, those two.”

“Hm. Are we crashing their beach party?” Suna prompts him, eyebrows raised. “They must be talking about the public beach, it’s only ten minutes from the civic center.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs again. “Sounds festive. We could bring Ginjima and Kosaku, play some beach volleyball.”

“Not ‘Tsumu?”

“Who’s that?” Osamu asks innocently. “I don’t know ‘em.”

“Oho?” Suna’s eyebrows creep upward in interest. “What, you want to keep the watermelon girl to yourself?”

Osamu scoffs. “I don’t wanna subject that sweet girl to Tsumu’s god-awful company.”

Suna smirks as he locks the storage door behind them. “So now she’s a sweet girl you want for yourself,” he notes smartly. “I didn’t think she was your type.”

“No—“ Osamu denies again reflexively. “It ain’t like that. I don’t even… know her name,” he realizes suddenly. “Aw, shit. Did ya catch her name?”

“Uhh…” Suna pauses, thinking back to their conversation. “The one with the ponytail is Yoshi?”

“Yeah, but the ginger,” Osamu asks urgently. “That’s the sweet one, so—“ he cuts himself off when Suna flashes a shit-eating grin at him. “Oh, shut it, Sunarin.”

“I didn’t say a word.”

“I don’t know her name,” Osamu points out. “As if I’d like anyone just for their looks.” But he did like her for those ugly-ass rice balls. Maybe he’ll see her tomorrow morning too and she’ll make more for him. “Yer mixin’ me up with Tsumu if ya think that way,” he adds for good measure.

Suna holds up his hands in a gesture of peace. “Whoa there, I never said that. Also, wow, you think Tsumu’s shallow? I don’t even wanna begin to unpack that inferiority complex right there…”

“Watch it,” Osamu huffs, but there’s no heat behind his tone. “And I don’t think he’s shallow , just—it’s weird t’see him flirt, i just don’t need that happenin’ in my face all the time.” He isn’t quite looking at Suna anymore as he speaks. 

“Plus, he gets mistaken for you half the time,” Suna remarks.

“Exactly!” Osamu agrees, jumping onto the idea. “See, he’s givin’ us both a bad rep. Then it’s confusin’ ‘cause someone’ll come up to me thinkin’ I’m the one that winked at ‘em over lunch, and then it’s real awkward.” 

Suna throws him a sly look. “Except this time, you were the one winking…”

“I didn’t wink , whaddya talkin’ about?” Osamu whacks him in the arm. “Wink, I would never wink, when didya see me wink?”

“I meant that in a metaphorical sense,” Suna replies, snickering. “It was more like heart eyes.”

“Shut yer trap!” He lunges for Suna. 

(They’re on the ground, wrestling like toddlers by the time Aran finds them.) 

In Rumi's opinion, practice has gone pretty smoothly today. Their morning drills went well, and in the afternoon, they scrimmaged with Rato Academy and were able to practice some of their new formations against a decent team. All that's left is dinner, that seminar, and sleeping. 

The team breaks off into smaller groups. They have a full hour of free time before dinner in the cafeteria, and every girl takes advantage of the civic center’s large locker rooms to rinse off first.  

After their showers, the players all go off to find their friends in the cafeteria—but it’s a different story for the captain and her vice. 

“We already talked,” Rumi grumbles, reluctantly following Yui. “Couldn’t they have brought this up last night?”

Yui shrugs. “Kita reached out. It’s probably something about the boy's team.”

“Then we definitely don’t need to be here!” Rumi cries, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "They can sort themselves out, I'm not their babysitter."

In the hallways between two indoor courts, Rumi finds only four people waiting there. Seung and her vice captain, plus the Inarizaki boys—Kita Shinsuke and a tall kid whose name Rumi has forgotten. 

“Seung, I’ve got a first year for you,” Rumi says immediately, nodding briefly to the Inarizaki captain. Yui goes over to greet him properly, but Rumi has business with Shiratorizawa’s basketball captain—the boy's team might be full of clowns, but Seung and her team are tolerable when they’re not blasting music with explicit language in public. “My new keeper needs a conditioning routine. I’ll introduce you later.”

“No problem. She can join us,” Seung replies easily. Probably because Yui and Rumi helped her get out of trouble over her team’s playlist earlier today.

Rumi nods, and then turns her focus onto the Inarizaki guy. “Oi, Kita, what’s this about? If you’re gonna cry about Maya and Keisuke, I’m leaving.”

“Utsugi-san, thank you for coming.” Kita gives a singular, slow nod. “I’m afraid it’s concernin’ the conduct of all the boys sharin’ our hotel,” he confesses. 

Maya and Keisuke definitely terrorized him and his team. “Then why the hell am I here, and none of them?”  

“We invited them,” says the other Inarizaki player. Rumi remembers now—his name is Aran. “They blew us off. Haseyama and Miyake will be here soon, though.”

Kita clears his throat, as though preparing for a speech. “The inn is hostin’ four girl's teams and four boy's teams from three different schools. It’s forty-two in your wing, and only thirty-eight in mine, but…”

“It’s chaos?” Yui guesses, thoroughly unimpressed. “Shiratorizawa’s dorms are a mess. I imagine it’s worse here.”

“Like we told you,” Seung can’t help but point out. 

“There’s a lotta big personalities… in a very confined area,” Kita says, bowing his head. “I can keep an eye on my team, but not when I’m outnumbered like this.”

“Right,” Rumi says, sardonic. “And you think we’re getting along any better with Miyake?”  She spits the name out like a curse, because that’s exactly what Miyake is and they all know it. 

Kita winces again, painfully familiar with the contention between Shiratorizawa and Inarizaki’s soccer teams. Rumi and Miyake hashed things out last night, but they were far from reconciled.

Inarizaki, after all, is the team that destroyed Shiratorizawa’s chances of advancing to the quarterfinals at Nationals. And Miyake, the player that injured Aone Yui last year, is now Captain Miyake. Rumi’s already having a hell of a time, trying to keep her team from crossing paths with Inarizaki. At least Nohebi Academy isn’t staying in the same hotel as them. 

Kita Shinsuke knows all this. “I think that you’ve all handled yourselves far better than expected, ‘specially given yer history…” he says judiciously. “But there’s an empty room in your wing, and… it may sound improper, but I think we would all benefit from separating the boys by puttin’ some in your wing,” he suggests. “We wouldn’t be intrudin’ on any private spaces, and we’ll just hop across the courtyard for the baths. It’s just for getting some proper sleep.”

“Sure,” Seung says at once. And before Rumi can get started on her Hell-fucking-no rant, the basketball player adds, gleefully, “But we’ll take Iizuna’s team.”

The Itachiyama team, not Inarizaki. Rumi bursts into laughter. 

Iizuna is just as polite and mild-mannered as Kita, but with one huge difference: Iizuna’s team is just as friendly and cordial as their captain. Some of them assisted with the extra luggage on the girl's side yesterday, and they did it without flirting or antagonizing any of the female students. The same could not be said for Kita’s boys.

“That works for me,” Rumi decides, grinning now. “Nine players, right? We can handle that.”

“Well, hang on now,” Kita looks like a deer in headlights. “I-I was speakin’ on behalf of my own team, not Iizuna,” he stammers. 

“Please don’t leave us with Keisuke and Maya,” Kita’s vice captain blurts out. “They’re nuts. Why couldn’t you bring Ushiwaka’s team instead?”

Rumi scowls. “Maya and Keisuke are the ones that got my team into this camp,” she admits. “That’s why I was willing to have all of Shiratorizawa in the same wing.” 

It’s what she suggested last night. However, while that could work for her school’s teams, it would force Inarizaki and the other teams to do the same. Not all the coaches and teams are willing to let the female and male students intermingle so much. And of course, Kita and Iizuna completely underestimated how rowdy the Academy boys are. 

“I understand… but, if you’re willing to take one team into your side of the inn…” Kita doesn’t finish his statement. Rumi can tell by the look on his face that he already knows why they prefer Iizuna. 

“Kita-san, Aran-san,” Yui speaks up at last, murmuring in a gentle but firm tone, “Your team has a certain reputation that Iizuna’s team does not.” Somehow, everything sounds proper and official when Yui says it. 

“But if you want fewer boys to manage, we’ll let Itachiyama move out,” Seung says, taking on a saccharine, overly-sympathetic tone. “Kita-san… surely you can handle twenty-nine high school athletes if you’re asking us to handle fifty-one?”

Rumi stares the Inarizaki boys down, daring them to argue. 

Kita folds like a house of cards. “...I suppose I can.”

“We’re stuck on the bad side?!” Atsumu, of course, is the first to express his grief during their evening meal. The nine of them are all squeezed together at a single table in the cafeteria. Every time Atsumu gesticulates, he’s in danger of smacking Osamu in the face. “With those maniac Academy guys?! Maya’s gonna kill me, he keeps tryna arm-wrestle! I’m TIRED!” 

“And that basketball captain, Keisuke,” Aran adds worriedly, “I think he’s gonna sneak booze into the inn. If he gets busted, won’t we all get in trouble?”

Kita shuts his eyes briefly, rubbing his temple. “Atsumu, ya need to say no when ya don’t wanna arm-wrestle,” he points out, feeling as though he’s speaking to a small child. “Keisuke-kun is joking. I promise. He has a peculiar sense of humor.”

Osamu raises his hand like he’s in class. “I still don’t like any of the Shiratorizawa guys.”

Suna raises his hand too. “Their uniforms are garbage.”

“Put yer hands down,” Kita frowns. “Utsugi, Seung, Haseyama and Miyake—all the captains agreed they would prefer to be roomed next to Itachiyama’s team rather than ours.” He makes sure to give each and every one of his teammates a cold look. “Because we have a reputation that Iizuna’s team does not.”

“Reputation?” Osamu repeats, eating his third bowl of rice. “What sorta rep are ya referrin’ to?”

“Ain’t Miyake from Inarizaki?” Atsumu cries, clearly betrayed. “Akagi, didn't cha date her last year? Or wait, was it Omimi?”

Kita throws the twins a pointed look. “Too much fraternization.”

Neither Akagi nor Omimi look pleased by the mention of Miyake. “Y’know, I think the Academy guys are alright, actually,” Akagi comments.  

“So that means Itachiyama gets to hang out in the girl's wing all week, and we’re stuck with Sendai’s clowns,” Osamu surmises. “‘Cause we’re too friendly.” Suna looks at him out the corner of his eye, and says nothing. 

“This is discrimination,” Atsumu declares, jumping to his feet. 

“No it’s not,” Kita deadpans. “Sit down.”

“It’s so damn hot,” Ariyoshi gripes, wiping at her damp bangs. The ends of her hair are still bleach-blonde, and it looks even frizzier than usual. She smacks the back of her neck. “And the mosquitoes, ugh!”

Natsu hums, walking next to her through the upper patio space of the civic center. “Must be your blood type. They don’t bother me that much.” She hops up onto the low brick wall and continues, a meter taller than Ariyoshi.

They’ve just finished dinner, and they’ll have to meet in one of the rec rooms in half an hour to learn about gym equipment safety, so Natsu’s team is sprawled around the civic center waiting until they can return to the inn.

Ariyoshi stops short, glaring at her with narrowed eyes. “What the fuck was that?”

“Huh? What?” Natsu looks around, wondering if there’s something on the ledge. This wall overlooks the forest-y side of the city, away from the ocean, so there’s not much beyond the patio to look at. “The fireflies?”

“No, you idiot,” Ariyoshi yanks on her pant leg lightly. “I meant you . How do you have the energy for a meter-high box jump right now?”

Natsu crouches on the ledge, getting closer to Yoshi’s eye level. “What’s a box jump? That was a normal jump. And it’s like, seventy centimeters, that’s nothing crazy.”

“A box jump is what you just did: feet planted, no run-up,” she says, continuing their walk. “And seventy centimeters is crazy, you didn’t even warm up.”

Natsu follows along on the ledge. It’s very wide, so it’s not hard to balance. “We should play volleyball on Friday, at the beach. Then you’ll see how high I can go.”

“Now you wanna jump on sand? On our day off?” Yoshi demands, throwing her a scornful look. “Get outta here, freak.” She swats at Natsu’s leg playfully.

The sun is setting in Kobe, and Sakusa Kiyoomi desperately wishes he could wear a face mask. There’s bugs everywhere , but it’s also so disgustingly humid outside the civic center that he can’t bear the thought of putting it on. 

“I guess we’re not neighbors anymore!” Motoya exclaims, patting Hoshino’s shoulder. The three of them just finished dinner, and now they’re wandering around the outdoor patios near the cafeteria. Kiyoomi would prefer to be inside, maybe hang out on a court, but apparently they need special permission for that. Tomorrow, he’ll sign up for extra court time. 

Motoya continues, “No offense to you, Hoshino, but your team’s a little… rambunctious.”

“I know.” It sounds as though Hoshino has made peace with this long ago. “Sorry for the trouble. I hope the girls are easier to get along with…”

“Yeah, at Itachiyama we share gym space with the girls sometimes,” Motoya shrugs. “Our dorms are next to each other too, so it’s not so different from school.”

“Why wouldn’t the girls be easier to get along with?” Kiyoomi asks suddenly, noting the unsure look on Hoshino’s face. “Are they loud or something?” That ginger girl seems alright, so he can only imagine that the noise level might get out of hand with a group of girls like Hinata.

“No, it’s not that,” Hoshino assures him quickly, scratching his head fretfully. “The girl's basketball team is very relaxed, but Hinata’s team is… aggressive. I think it’s a soccer thing.”

“Hm,” Kiyoomi frowns. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Well—” 

Hoshino is cut off by a sudden, girly scream.

Kiyoomi looks up and sees a girl staring over the patio wall. She has brown hair with the ends bleached blonde. She doesn’t look to be in any trouble, so he’s not sure what she screamed for.

Next to him, Hoshino makes a choking noise. “Ariyoshi?” he calls out to her, flummoxed. “Did you just push someone over the ledge?”

Ariyoshi whips around to face him, wide-eyed. Then she schools her expression into one of disinterest, casually leaning against the low brick wall. “Pssh. Of course I didn’t.”

“No, I totally saw you!” Motoya cries, so shocked that he seems to be frozen in place. “Did we just witness a murder?”

“I didn’t see anything,” Kiyoomi mumbles. 

“He didn’t see anything,” Ariyoshi quickly repeats, gesturing at Kiyoomi. “You’re imagining things, Hoshino.”

Then a shoe comes flying over the ledge, skimming the side of Ariyoshi’s head. 

A voice, distant and shrill, shouts, “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU PUSHED ME!”

“You pushed Hinata?” Hoshino cries, hurrying over to the ledge. “Are you alright?!” he shouts down to the other girl. “I can’t even see you, it’s so dark…”

Ariyoshi groans, leaning over the edge. “It was an accident, she lost her balance—Hinata, hold up your phone so we can see the light,” she calls. Kiyoomi peers over the wall, seeing the faint, rectangular glow from Hinata’s phone. “See? It’s just a two meter drop, I’m sure she rolled.”

“You’re lucky I did!” Hinata hollers back. “H-How do I get back up there?”

“Maybe you should jump,” Ariyoshi suggests, only half-seriously. “You have a good vertical.”

“She’s missing a shoe now,” Kiyoomi points out, eyeing the lone sneaker on the patio with distaste. 

“That’s her own fault.”

Hoshino sighs like an overworked salaryman. “Hinata, can you climb back up? You’re not hurt, right?”

Kiyoomi hears a small sniffle. “I’m fine, they’re just scratches,” Hinata answers sullenly. “I think I can climb it…”

“Come on, I’ll pull you up,” Hoshino sets his phone and jacket aside and reaches over the ledge for Hinata’s hand. After a moment, Ariyoshi huffs and leans over as well, grabbing Hinata’s other arm to haul her back up. 

Hinata flops her torso over the wall, scuffed up and dirty. “I just showered, Yoshi!” she wails.

Kiyoomi pities her. Motoya hands over her shoe. 

Ariyoshi picks out a few leaves from Hinata’s hair. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “On the bright side, this makes us even. I’m sure there’s still hot water at the inn.”

Chapter Text

Their second day in Kobe feels as though it’s lasted a lifetime. Yui can only imagine how much her team will grow and change over the course of nine training days. The evening is finally winding down as she returns to their hotel after attending a rather uninformative seminar on gym equipment. All that’s left is to announce their beach day plans to the team, but Rumi is busy chastising Ariyoshi and Hinata for rough-housing. Yui is content, though, knowing that Hinata wasn’t seriously injured.

They only have thirteen players. Any injuries will put them at an even greater disadvantage for their match on Saturday.

When they reach the inn, Yui’s attention is drawn to the other side of the courtyard, where the boys’ teams from Shiratorizawa are staying.

“You feel bad for Kita, don’t you?” Rumi interrupts, stopping at her side.

Yui nods. “Maybe…”

“Go ahead,” Rumi waves a hand at her dismissively, heading towards their wing. “Scare some sense into those idiots.”

Whoa.

There is a giant, scary woman in the hallway. Suddenly the noise and commotion in the washroom doesn’t seem so loud, but the hallway seems narrower and emptier than ever. There is only him and this lady. She’s not just tall, she’s strong and sinewy with shoulders squared with solid muscle, sculpted calves, and steel-gray eyes that see straight into his soul.

Thank god Atsumu is wearing real pajamas and not just his boxers.

“Excuse me,” she says with a shallow bow. “Where is Yoshino’s room?”

Atsumu is glad he’s fully-clothed, but he, unfortunately, is still brushing his teeth. He stepped out of the washroom because the guys were getting too loud, and didn’t think anyone would be in the hallway.

“Uh,” he mumbles around a toothbrush, looking her up and down and feeling woefully unprepared. “Ooh are oou?”

She doesn’t seem to have a problem deciphering him. “Aone. I’m looking for Yoshino-kun.”

Atsumu nods, wide-eyed, subtly trying to estimate if he’s taller than her or not. “Uhh,” he says again, “Oshino…?”

He should really go back into the washroom and rinse his mouth. Instead he keeps staring at her platinum-blonde hair and blunt, serious features, unable to look away. She’s not ugly. Just fit to be a viking queen rather than hanging out at a training camp for high school athletes.

“Yoshino Maya,” she clarifies calmly. Her voice is quite gentle for someone that looks that scary. “The soccer captain.”

“Ohhh,” he nods again. Blinks. “OH! MAYUH-UHN?” He stands up straighter, taking out his toothbrush and swallowing all the toothpaste in his mouth—Uhgh, bad idea—

“Yes, Maya-kun.” Her brow scrunches up in concern.

Atsumu wipes at his mouth with the towel around his neck. “The soccer guys are the third door down thatta way,” he reports to her at once. Atsumu feels like a soldier addressing a commander, and he doesn’t even mind it.

Aone dips her head in approval. “Thank you, Miya-san.”

“No problem!” He exhales, relieved even though he was never in trouble.

As she brushes past him, it occurs to Atsumu that he never introduced himself.

“Hang on a sec!” he cries, jogging after her. “How’d ya know my name? Do I know you?”

“No,” she replies, vaguely amused. “I know you from Kita’s roster. Miya Atsumu, right?”

“Sure am,” he grins reflexively. It’s always nice when people get his name right. “But that means I’m atta disadvantage with ya. Aone…?” he asks leadingly.

She tucks a lock of soft silver hair behind her ear, tilting her head in skepticism. “Aone Yui. Nice to meet you,” she replies anyway, polite and proper.

“Yui, huh? You look like a Yui-chan. Nice to meet ya,” he says in turn, watching her. She’s very formal-talking and Atsumu certainly isn’t, but she doesn’t seem to mind that. “Whatcha doin’ on the bad side, hm?”

Atsumu easily matches her strides down the hall, and Yui, in turn, meets his gaze without missing a beat. They’re nearly the same height! It’s so rare to meet girls over 180 centimeters—he’s dying to know if she’s a volleyball player or not. Soccer players aren’t built with shoulders like those…

“I need to speak with Yoshino because there shouldn’t be a ‘bad side’ of the inn,” Yui explains shortly.

Atsumu’s grin turns into a delighted smirk. “Ohoho, yer here to chew him out? Wait! Should I call ya Captain Yui-chan? Yui-senpai?”

They come to a stop outside of Maya’s room. The door is closed, and the voices behind it are loud. “I’m a vice captain,” Yui corrects him softly, but she still doesn’t tell him which honorific to use. “Miya-san, would you mind checking on them, in case anyone is underdressed?”

“Sure, but only if ya call me Atsumu,” he bargains. “None o’this Miya-san nonsense. That’s my old man.”

Yui blinks, mild gray eyes regarding him silently. He can’t tell if it’s a look of surprise or amusement. “Alright, Atsumu-san,” she agrees, serene as still water. “Check the room, please.”

“Yes ma’am!” he laughs, knocking a few times on the door before sliding it halfway open. “Yo! Soccer hooligans, are ya decent?!” Atsumu demands, sticking his head inside. He takes in the scene quickly—a ring of boys with cards and cash between them, two shirtless guys arm-wrestling, someone juggling a soccer ball, and another two grappling on the ground like sumo wrestlers.

They all look up to see the intruder, and upon recognizing him, cheer, “TSUMUUU!”

“Oi, it’s Atsumu to you goons!” he snaps. “We ain’t friends!”

“Join us!” Maya continues blithely, dropping his cards and getting to his feet. He’s fully clothed, but three of the boys aren’t.

“Hell no,” Atsumu says quickly, “Put some clothes on, there’s a lady present!”

He doesn’t expect Maya’s face to light up. “Rumi-chan? Is she here to yell at me?”

“Why d’ya look happy about that?” Atsumu hisses, unnerved. “And no, it’s this vice captain, Ao—”

Maya bolts for the window.

“Hey!” Atsumu cries, diving after him. “Where are you going?!”

“Go, go, go!” The soccer team bursts into action, two of them blocking Atsumu’s path while the others wrench the window open and boost Maya out into the bushes, laughing like hyenas.

“Coward! Get back here!” Atsumu screams after him, struggling against the two players. “You’re all insane, whaddya even tryna do?!”

“You’ve lost room privileges, Tsumu! Out with you!” one of them announces.

Atsumu shrieks when his feet leave the ground. “WHY ARE YA LIKE THIS?!” he howls as they dump him out into the hallway like a sack of rice. The door slides shut, nearly amputating his foot in the process. He can hear them cackling behind the door, those bastards.

He looks up from where he’s seated awkwardly on the tatami mats. Yui arches a single, delicate eyebrow.

“He jumped out the window,” Atsumu reports flatly.

Yui sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Sorry.”

“Ain’t your fault. Unless you invited ‘em to Hyogo,” he mumbles, pushing himself to his feet and fixing his hair.

“You have it wrong,” Yui replies, beleaguered. “Maya convinced the school board so that my team could come to this particular camp. He knows we’re indebted to him for that.”

“And what’s your team here for?” Atsumu asks, finally getting his chance to ask. “Volleyball?”

“Soccer,” Yui looks amused again, like she knows he was eager to meet another volleyball player. “Our volleyball teams stayed in Miyagi for a collegiate camp.”

“That’s a shame,” Atsumu shakes his head. “Look at ya. You could’ve been a helluva player, Yui!”

“I was, actually. I played in middle school for a while.” Yui gives him a small, faint smile as if that isn’t the most crucial detail she could have possibly revealed. Then she tells him, “But soccer is the better sport.”

“Eh?” Atsumu’s jaw drops in surprise. “Yui-chan, y’can’t just say that! We’ve only just met and yer pullin’ that on me?” he teases, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

Yui gives him another bow, this time in farewell. “I still need to speak with Yoshino,” she reminds him, ending the conversation before he can get started on his anti-soccer argument. “Good night, Atsumu-san.”

He grins back. “Fine. But we ain’t done with this conversation,” Atsumu warns. “Good night, Yui-chan!”

She returns his wave as she walks down the hallway, heading towards the back exit of the hotel.

He watches her long silver braid swish behind her as she leaves, certain that he’s never met anyone like her before. Atsumu thinks he usually gravitates towards livelier girls, the kind that want to see all his games, but Aone Yui is just—really cool.

“Laaame,” someone comments. Atsumu looks down, and sees that the sliding door’s been opened just enough for three of Maya’s teammates to peek through and spy on him. “Oh, hang on—“ One of the boys shuffles around, and then produces a blue toothbrush out of nowhere.

Atsumu grimaces, snatching it out of his hands. He’d completely forgotten he’d been holding it when he went into their room. “What was that you said, huh?”

“We’re saying you’ve got no chance, pretty boy,” another one explains, throwing Atsumu a pitying look. “Move along.”

Atsumu narrows his eyes at them. “Whaddya losers talkin’ about?”

“Yui,” the soccer player pipes up. “She’s dating someone. No way you could pull her, especially not now.”

Atsumu scoffs and crosses his arms. He wasn’t thinking about Yui seriously. “Oh yeah? Who’s she dating?” he asks anyway.

“Ushiwaka.” “Guess Monster.” Two of them speak at the same time, overlapping each other’s answers.

The three stooges look at each other in alarm. “Oh man,” says the third one. “Love triangle? That’s some shoujo shit right there. I should write this down.”

“Ushiwaka doesn’t date,” one of them insists.

“Yeaahh well I saw her go into his dorm before we left…Pretty sus.”

“That’s not fair—Tendou commutes. I know she’s been to his house a few times!”

“Okaaaay, sure. Now you’re the sus one, Hiro. Why do you know that?”

“I’m invested! Tendou’s a good guy, he shared his manga subscription with me.”

“You know what, I don’t even care which one it is. I’m just proud of Yui.”

“Yeesh,” Atsumu interrupts at last, stepping away from the Academy boys. He turns back towards his team’s room. “I’ve heard enough. Y’all go ahead and gossip in yer knittin’ circle without me, okay?”

That evening, Natsu frantically types out her most heartfelt apology to Yunohama. It’s been over 36 hours since his confession to Utsugi, and there’s been no answer.

hinata: sorry yuno

hinata: i wont ask her, it’s not my business

yuno: i just want closure T-T

hinata: she’ll tell u when she’s ready

hinata: she has ur number right?

yuno: yes

yuno: i think so

yuno: WAIT what if i wrote it down wrong in the letter??

hinata: she’ll find a way to tell u

hinata: dont dwell on it, u did ur part

yuno: it was too soon wasnt it?

yuno: i came on too strong

hinata: yeah i think u did

yuno: HINATA DONT AGREE W ME

hinata: i told u to befriend her first!!

yuno: I CANT DO THAT

hinata: why not??

yuno: because i dont wanna JUST be her friend

yuno: she’ll get the wrong idea

yuno: and then when i confess she’d be like ‘i only like u as a friend’

hinata: ???

hinata: if she likes u as more than a friend then u date. if not u stay friends. whats the problem here??

yuno: HINATA THATS TERRIBLE

yuno: I CANT BE FRIENDS W HER WHILE SHE DATES OTHER GUYS

hinata: oh

hinata: ok, but if utsugi doesnt like u back then u need to move on, right?

yuno: what?? u dont know for sure, she might change her mind!!

hinata: then isnt it better to be friends so she gets to know u more, and then decide she likes u back??

yuno: u think that’s how it works??

hinata: i think that makes sense!!

yuno: once ur friends u can ONLY be friends

hinata: ??

hinata: i guess if that’s how u see it then that’s how it is for u

yuno: doesnt matter anyway, i already confessed

hinata: yeah

hinata: sorry im not helping very much

yuno: dw this is helpful

yuno: i think

yuno: it still bothers me that i have no answer. but ur right it was poorly executed

yuno: if utsugi DOES ask u about me, tell her im sorry for ambushing her

hinata: i’ll do that 👍

yuno: thx 🥲 see u next week

hinata: 👋👋

Yui fails to find Yoshino Maya, and has to settle for cornering his remaining teammates in their quarters and asking them to be more courteous to the other students. They take it pretty well, though it’s difficult for Yui to gauge how much of it will stick, or how long it’ll take for her words to wear off.

But Yui doesn’t mean that in a cynical way. Maya’s team is not inherently bad or rebellious—nor is Maya.

The Academy is extremely competitive in both academics and athletics, after all. Every high school athlete had to work hard and do well in class just to get in. Maya is in the most advanced math class that their school offers. But you’d never guess that by how he acts in soccer practice.

It’s the nature of the game. You need to have some wildness to play a contact sport, and when you’re on a team, that recklessness spreads like a virus to every member. Soccer cultivates madness, passes it between players until it circulates like a self-sustaining machine of…

Well, Atsumu had it right. Soccer players are hooligans.

And basketball players? They’re just as unruly. That’s partly why Yui’s brother chose volleyball. Takanobu likes being on a team, but he’s uncomfortable with the aggression in soccer and basketball.

Now, whether or not Yui has the kind of guts to be a good soccer player—that remains to be seen. She likes to think she can keep up, though.

Yui returns to her side of the inn just in time to attend her teammates’ performance of a lifetime. It’s mainly the work of third year Sakaguchi and second year Kunitake. Rumi said she wanted to hear them out just to mess with the girls for longer, but Yui let it slide for a different reason—she’s never seen Sakaguchi get along with any underclassmen before, and she never expected Kunitake to be the first. The circumstances are strange, but it’s nice to see her teammates working together in some capacity.

Admittedly, Yui doesn’t pay much attention to the content of their argument. But it’s well-made. There’s a consistent and eye-catching purple and white theme, and little animations on each page. Kunitake brought her own laptop to present their slideshow, and they’re using some really nice graphics. Sakaguchi is a surprisingly good public speaker when she’s passionate about something. Yui is scheduled for a presentation in civics class next month, so she might ask them for tips.

At the conclusion of the show, Yui even claps for them. Rumi, though, makes an even bigger show of acting totally disinterested the whole time, as if the last fifteen minutes was nothing but a waste of time. “But that reminds me,” the captain adds with a swift glance at Yui. “Our itinerary was updated, so you should all look over the new schedule tonight because I expect you all to follow it tomorrow.”

With that cue, Yui takes out the pre-printed packets out of her bag and begins distributing them.

“You’re shitting me,” Sakaguchi is the first to realize it. “Rumi, you bastard.”

Then there’s a few minutes of controlled chaos as the news of their beach day spreads across the room. Rumi makes sure to threaten them all to keep quiet, though, because if Maya or Keisuke’s teams get wind of their idea, their plans will be hijacked by the boys.

“Would it be that bad?” Natsu pipes up, brow furrowed. “It’s not like we have dibs on the beach.”

“It’s not the beach that I’m worried about,” Rumi explains solemnly. “It’s the barbeque. We can only buy food for the thirteen of us, not an extra twenty boys.”

“What about Seung’s team?” Sugasawa wonders. “And the other schools? Is this supposed to be a secret from everyone?”

“Seung plans to go on Saturday,” Yui replies, smoothing out the sheets over her futon. “It’s not a secret, but please have some discretion, ladies. We don’t want to cause a stir.”

When all the girls are in agreement—some more pleased than others—the team begins the process of turning in for the night. All in all, a very satisfying end to the day…

Yui wonders if Tendou’s team had a good day too. As her teammates arrange their futons around the room, she takes a few minutes to text him.

aone y: How was training?

On a whim, she sends it to that group chat between Tendou, Ushijima, and herself. The message is delivered and read by Tendou within seconds—it’s pretty late, but Tendou usually scrolls through manga on his phone at this hour. The volleyball team will stay in the Academy dorms over break, and make daily trips to the local civic gymnasium for training with local colleges. Commuter students were encouraged to bunk in the extra dorms—but even if Tendou has a curfew now, he’ll still have his phone out.

A few dots appear and disappear on her phone’s screen, like Tendou is typing and then deleting it and then starting again.

Yui finds it amusing. Tendou can easily send her paragraphs and paragraphs of information, but he’s been trying to be more concise lately—he says that Yui takes too long to respond if he sends too many messages at once, and Yui can’t disagree with that.

tendou s: ahh how does one summarize an EPIC POEM???

She isn’t sure what an epic poem is, but she assumes it’s some sort of long story given that Tendou is notorious for them. Maybe it would be in verse, like his spontaneous haikus.

aone y: Take your time

Then his typing stops for good. Maybe he sensed that she was teasing him.

Yui startles when her phone starts ringing. And she knows it’s him, but it still astonishes her to see Tendou’s name flashing on the screen. They’ve been friends for three years now, but he’s never called her, and she’s never called him. Neither of them are avoiding phone calls for any reason—it’s just easier to meet up at school to talk.

But, Yui admits that she doesn’t want to wait a whole eight days to hear what Tendou has to say. She pushes herself to her feet and heads to the back of the inn to answer the phone in private.

“Tendou?”

“Yuuuiiii I have too many things to say!” Tendou whines, whispering emphatically. “Settle in for my story, Yui-kun, it’s been a loooong day here in sunny Sendai!”

A smile finds its way to her lips as she steps outside the inn, breathing in the humid air. “Okay.”

“Good evening,” a second, deeper voice announces. Yui bites back a laugh at Ushijima’s formality. “Please try to summarize, Tendou. I would like to hear about Kobe.”

“Wakatoshi-kun, you can’t put a time-limit on my storytelling!”

“But there is a time-limit. If we stay up too late we will perform poorly tomorrow.”

“That’s a good point,” Yui agrees, apologetic.

“Yui and Wakatoshi, my two voices of reason. Now I have to work twice as hard to be the unreasonable one!” Tendou laughs. Yui can hear the shuffling of fabric, and wonders if Tendou has climbed down from the top bunk.

Before departing for Kobe, Yui dropped off her three spider plants in Ushijima’s dorm. The plants could go nine days without watering, of course, but Yui has killed too many house plants to abandon them for so long. But, since she’s seen the interior of Ushijima’s dorm, Yui also knows that he shares it with Reon, and that there are no other open beds in the room.

“Tendou,” she interrupts curiously, “Did you switch rooms with Reon?”

“Yep! I got lucky, they assigned me to a one-person dorm. Reon and I swapped for the week.” Yui hears more shuffling, and a metallic squeak from what must be the bed frame. “Your plants are looking good, by the way. We’ll send you some pics tomorrow, when the lighting’s better.”

Yui huffs. “It’s only been two days. We’re not due for an update quite yet.”

“Well, then I’ll send you pics of us in Sendai, so you feel jealous and homesick and forget about Kobe’s lovely ocean view.”

“That’s presumptuous,” she remarks.

“I—Yeesh, okay then, goalie girl…”

“Tendou. I’m already homesick,” Yui explains before he gets ahead of himself. “But I like this camp too much to feel jealous.”

“Awww Yui, you do care,” Tendou chuckles. “And for the record, you can contact me whenever you want, whenever you’re missing home! You can call Wakatoshi too, but his non-volleyball hours are between noon and one, and then eight to nine o’clock every other evening.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Yui promises, smiling. “Now tell me about your collegiate camp.”

“Gladly! To set the scene for ya, it’s a bright and crisp day in Sendai—a little too crisp, if you ask me, because we were dragged out at the crack of dawn for morning practice…”

Chapter Text

Natsu is wholly unprepared on Monday morning, day three of their training camp. And usually Natsu knows when she’s unprepared, but this time it’s just the universe turning on her for fun. All she had to do this morning was reserve an equipment cart for practice. But instead, Natsu has been stopped outside the civic center by her vice captain.

Why? To introduce her to Hamada Ayaka.

An assistant coach for Japan’s national soccer team.

I think I might pass out, Natsu thinks faintly. I didn’t even brush my hair.

Aone doesn’t seem to notice her distress. She’s acting like this happens every day.

“Wh-what are you doing in Kobe, Hamada-san?” Natsu asks after the introductions are made.

The older woman smiles pleasantly, eyes crinkling at the corners. She’s about as old as Natsu’s mother, but lithe and fit where most women are just slim or soft. More importantly, though, Hamada stands tall. Not literally, since she’s about Natsu’s size, but there’s a sense of surety in her demeanor that instantly sets her apart from other people.

Aone comes close to that kind of confidence when she steps onto the field. When it was Oikawa Tooru’s turn to serve, he faced the court with that same resolve. Natsu bets Ushijima has it too.

They have it, Natsu knows for sure, though she can’t define what she sees in them.

“This training camp isn’t just an opportunity for you,” Hamada explains kindly. “It’s a chance for scouts to get a first-hand look at some of the top high school athletes. Yui is one of eight players at this camp that have received invitations to our U-19 tryouts, so I wanted to stop by.”

As Hamada explains, this camp is full of scouts, for all age groups and all sports. Some are coaches for national teams, like Hamada, but others work for professional and semi-professional clubs, too.

“Wow,” Natsu squeaks. In the back of her mind she knew there’d be scouts in Kobe, but it’s different being face-to-face with one. “That’s, ha, that’s amazing.”

Then she blinks, and turns to Aone. The U-19 team?!

“The tryouts take place in September,” Aone says quietly, though she keeps her head up and looks at the coach’s face properly. Natsu tries to do the same instead of staring at her own feet. “I’m surprised you’re observing us so early in the season.”

Hamada huffs, still smiling. “I’m not only observing the seniors.”

It’s a good thing that today is warm and cloudless. A strong breeze could knock Natsu over right now. The first drops of rain might reduce her to a puddle.

“Youth women’s soccer is a low-priority section to the JFA, so the U-17 team only gets called up if the directors have the funding for tournament entry,” Hamada goes on, “But recently we’ve been able to build up support for women’s sports.”

“Because we won,” Natsu blurts out, anticipation creeping up her spine. “We won the World Cup last year for the first time.”

Hamada grins widely, mirroring her excitement. “And we won against the United States, against the highest-ranked team in the world,” she agrees warmly. “It’s done wonders for our organization, and I want to start training with younger age groups so that we’ll be ready for the international stage.”

Ready for the 2014 Youth World Cup. Ready for the 2015 Asian Cup and 2015 World Cup. Ready for the 2016 Summer Olympics, and all the competitions that follow—

Natsu has thought about this before. Last summer, between studying for the Academy’s entrance exam and practicing in any local youth camp she could commute to, Natsu had counted off the years. She’ll be seventeen during the next Youth World Cup, and nineteen by the World Cup. She’ll be twenty-three by the 2019 World Cup. She’ll be twenty-seven for the one after that.

But there’s more to it than being the right age. When you look at the careers of the most successful athletes, when you look at their starting points, almost all of them begin the same way: with recruiters, with scouts, with teams that win tournaments every year and receive invitations to the most exclusive of training camps.

It’s a long path. Natsu can’t see herself at the end of it. But it hadn’t been impossible to attend Shiratorizawa. And it’s not impossible to get seen by a recruiter, either.

Hamada chats with the two of them for a few minutes longer, discussing the club teams that play in spring and the construction plans to create turf fields in outer Tokyo. By the time they’re exchanging farewells, Natsu’s nerves have passed.

She still feels like screaming though. In a good way. “Aone-san,” Natsu says seriously. “The U-19 team?”

Her vice captain pouts. “Tryouts,” she corrects, walking into the civic center with Natsu.

“Tryouts lead to recruitment,” Natsu argues. “Recruitment leads to making the roster. Making the roster leads to—!”

“But for now,” Aone interrupts gently, “It’s still just tryouts, so I’d rather not speculate on the future.”

“It’s not speculating,” Natsu bumps shoulders with her goalkeeper. “It’s hope. You can’t go into something as huge as the national team tryouts without hoping you’ll get to play in the World Cup!” But as she says it, she realizes how hard it must be for Aone, because Natsu never dares to talk that way about herself.

She’s thought about becoming a professional athlete so much, but she’s never spoken about it aloud. Not even to Shouyou, who’s pretty loud about his own dream of playing volleyball as an adult, for as long as possible. Natsu’s always been eager to reach the next level of playing soccer, but she doesn’t talk about how long she wants to keep playing.

“It’s safer to lower your expectations, isn’t it?” Natsu muses, looking at Aone again. “Because most people don’t get scouted and recruited and contracted to play a professional sport. Like, if you put it into context—almost everyone in the world does not play for a professional sports team. Right?”

When she puts herself in Aone’s shoes, it instantly feels unrealistic. Natsu, scouted for a semi-pro club team? Natsu, scouted for a national training academy?

Her vice captain nods. “It’s hard to have hope, because… it kind of means I think I’m better than everyone.”

“You are, though,” Natsu says automatically. “That’s not hubris, that’s a fact!”

The goalkeeper gives her a small, thankful smile, but continues on, “It also means that when—if I don’t make the cut, I’ll be… I don’t know what I’ll be anymore, and I don’t want to face that outcome,” the tall girl confesses.

“Getting your hopes up means they can crash that much harder,” Natsu agrees. Her mouth feels dry, her chest feels tighter than before, but she still says, “Sometimes I think I’m wasting my family’s money by going to the Academy. Or that I’m losing something more important by putting so much time into training and playing.”

Aone’s steel grey eyes narrow at her. “Who’s telling you that?”

Natsu shakes her head. “No one says it…”

“Well it’s not a waste,” she says brusquely. The two of them stop outside of the stairwell. Natsu has to go up and write in her team’s name to reserve an equipment cart, and Yui’s probably on her way to the food court. “Look at where you are, Hinata. Look at the important things you’ve gained, and everything else you might. Hamada’s looking for U-17 players too.”

She says it so plainly, so matter-of-fact.

Natsu huffs. “Why’s it so much easier for you to say that about me?” She laughs, a little exasperated, a little hopeful. “I have so much more faith in you, while I’m second-guessing myself!”

Aone shrugs. “I don’t know. But for now, let’s keep hoping for each other’s sake, okay?”

“Okay.” Natsu purses her lips, and then bursts, “Senpai, that’s so cheesy, I’m gonna cry!”

Her vice captain tilts her head, amused. “I thought it sounded pretty good.”

Natsu nods vigorously. “It was!” Aone chuckles and pulls her into a brief side-hug before they part ways. Natsu takes the staircase two steps at a time, and tries her best to think of all the important things she’s gained.

By the time Natsu’s team finishes their morning practice session, the fields are bathed in direct, scorching heat. It’s the perfect time to stop for lunch and give the girls a break. They’re given an hour and a half, and Natsu spends it taking a speedy cold shower before heading to the food court. At that point, most of her team has broken off into smaller groups—it’s just Natsu and the two other first years left, Hirao and Ariyoshi.

“Do you wanna sit together?” Natsu checks with them.

“Sure!” Hirao says.

Ariyoshi doesn’t even look up from her phone. “Obviously. Which lunch line is the shortest?”

“Uh, the curry place—no, the yakitori station,” Hirao decides after scanning the cafeteria. She’s the tallest of them, so Natsu trusts she can see over the crowds. “What if it’s a short line because no one likes it?” she worries.

Ariyoshi pockets her phone. “If this civic center can’t even feed us decent food then they don’t deserve the funding for this circus. It’ll be fine.” And with that sound logic, she leads them to the yakitori.

More teams trickle into the cafeteria as they move up the line, and more players join the queue behind them. Natsu fills the time by telling the other first years about the assistant coach she met with Aone this morning.

They’ve just placed their orders for lunch when there’s a howl from the far end of the food court.

“HINATA? HEY, IS THERE A HINATA IN HERE?”

The three of them turn, and spot a familiar but unwelcome face on the other side of the cafeteria: Yoshino Maya, captain of the boys’ soccer team.

“Uh…?” Hirao throws her a skeptical look, one that mirrors Yoshi’s.

Some staff member quickly begins to shush Maya for his disturbance.

“Sorry!” He’s still kind of shouting even as he apologizes. “I’m just looking for someone, everything’s fine!”

“Hinata, Yoshi,” Hirao says urgently, “Should we do something?”

“Yeah,” Ariyoshi says flatly, “Hinata should hide. Whatever he wants, it’s nothing good.”

“But…” Natsu frowns.

“We’ll come find you,” Hirao offers. “Maybe on the upper balcony?”

“Should I really run away?” Natsu muses. It seems incredibly rude. “I’ve never even spoken to Maya before, maybe he’s looking for a different Hinata…”

“Uh, maybe…?” Hirao doesn’t seem so sure. “I don’t know any other Hinata besides you, though…”

Ariyoshi doesn’t even hesitate. “Leave. Now.”

Between the two of them, Ariyoshi seems more certain of her opinion, so that’s the route Natsu chooses.

“Fine. Let me grab my lunch…” She quickly pays for her lunch tray and sneaks over to the nearest staircase. Maya’s shouts echo after her, but Natsu goes unnoticed. She has a feeling that Maya doesn’t even know what she looks like.

Following the signs for the upper balcony two flights up, stairwell opens up into a smaller food court with only two food vendors open. There are tables all around, and the far wall is completely made of glass to let in plenty of sunlight. Some room dividers, decorated with leafy tropical plants, provide even more seclusion to each table area.

Most of the floor is empty save for a handful of students, all sitting quietly in small groups.

It’s… peaceful up here.

Natsu wanders the floor in a slow circle, taking in the clean benches and speckled linoleum floors. She thinks there’s some kind of sound-proofing on the walls to mute the noise.

Finally, she spots a familiar face.

“Ikejiri-senpai?” Natsu calls her name quietly. The third-year student is slumped over an empty table, napping.

“Who’s that?” Ikejiri asks without opening her eyes. Her head is pillowed over her folded arms.

“It’s me, Hinata,” she answers. “Can I sit with you?”

“Sure. Wake me up when we need to leave.” She yawns, and tucks her face between her arms to block out the light.

Natsu’s face splits into wide, fond grin as she sits down.

Two stories below Natsu, chaos reigns in the main food court.

Some dickhead with a death wish knocks over Ariyoshi’s food tray, spilling everything on himself and the floor. Worse, though, is that the commotion draws the attention of Yoshino Maya, who recognizes the first years and sprints in their direction, hollering about something neither of them understand.

Ariyoshi is furious. Hirao is embarrassed beyond belief. Sakusa Kiyoomi, covered in barbecue sauce, wants to die immediately.

Natsu scrolls through her phone idly, catching up on some of the group chat notifications. She’s thinking about texting Shouyou when a gentle knock on the table gets her attention.

She looks up, and her stomach does a flip. It’s the rice ball guy.

“Hi!” Natsu blurts out at once.

“Hiya,” he grins back at her. “Missed yer onigiri this morning.”

Natsu smiles good-naturedly. “Even the ugly ones?”

“Especially those,” he says seriously. His gaze flits upward to something past Natsu, and then back to her. “Is it just the two o’ you here?”

He has a lunch tray in his hands. He’s grabbing a chair already, and Natsu’s grin gets even bigger.

“It’s just us right now! You can sit here if you’d like. My other teammates were gonna join, but they must have gotten caught up with something downstairs—”

“Hinata,” Ikejiri’s voice, muffled, interrupts her. Without lifting her head, she points to the other side of the table. “Go over there.”

Natsu throws her an exasperated look. “Okay, senpai.” She gets up and slides her tray over, putting several seats between them.

The rice ball guy follows her lead, picking the chair beside hers. “She alright?” he asks softly.

“Oh, yeah!” Natsu assures him. “That’s Ikejiri-senpai, she just likes to nap.”

“Ikejiri,” he repeats with a nod. Then he scratches his head and says, “I, uh, didn’t catch your name, though.”

Natsu blinks at him. Then she exhales with a laugh, relieved. “Oh, thank goodness you said something! I don’t know your name either!” she admits. He looks equally relieved by this. “I’m Hinata Natsu, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice t’ meet ya, Hinata,” he replies cordially, “I’m Miya Osamu.”

“Miya-san,” she tests out the name thoughtfully just as he takes a large bite of food. “Do you usually come here for lunch? I had no idea there was more food on this floor!”

He hums, chewing for another moment. He points to the food cart with a red sign too far away to read, where a worker is mixing something in a big bowl. “I got my meal from downstairs. I’m here waitin’ for the takoyaki guy, he said it might take a while.”

Natsu’s eyes go wide. “There’s takoyaki here?!”

Miya nods seriously. “You can’t go spreadin’ that around, though. That there is a one-man operation, line’ll go out the door if everyone knew.”

She nods back, equally solemn. “I won’t tell. Promise!”

He hums again, seemingly pleased. “Now, if you weren’t in charge of the rice balls t’day, what’d yer captain have ya doing instead?” Miya takes another large bite from his wrap as he waits for her to answer, cheeks puffed out as he chews.

Natsu perks up at once. She’s already told this tale once, but it’s yet to lose its novelty. “Oh, I was supposed to reserve the equipment for practice. But, you know what happened along the way? I got to meet the assistant coach for the women’s national soccer team!”

Miya’s eyebrows creep upward in surprise. “Fer real?”

“Yes!” She has to stop herself from bouncing up and down in her seat. “She was talking to my vice captain, who’s apparently invited to tryouts for the U-19 team, I just found out! But anyway, Hamada’s here as a scout to look for U-17 players too. I don’t know about you, but this is my first time at a training camp where there’s scouts watching us, it’s really exciting! And, well, stressful!”

“But mostly exciting, I hope,” Miya says kindly. “You’re a first-year, aren’t you?” She nods. “I’m a second-year, so I’ve played in front of college scouts an’ the like. You just gotta focus on the game, get ‘em out of yer head.”

Natsu sighs. “That’s a lot easier said than done,” she laments, taking another bite of chicken.

“Yep,” Miya agrees mildly. “But y’gotta remember the game’s all that matters. You ever hear about the zone? That headspace they say that athletes get into?”

“Of course,” Natsu remarks. “I think it’s real.”

“Exactly, it’s real. You gotta find it for yerself,” he shrugs, and then leans away to stretch his shoulders and back. Natsu politely settles her gaze on her tray while he does this. “That’s all I can say on the matter,” Miya concludes. The man at the takoyaki stand calls out a number, and his head snaps up to attention. “’Scuse me, Hinata. I’ve got business that needs attendin’…”

Natsu snorts, pushing back her chair to let him out. She doesn’t miss the way he nearly runs over to pick up his order. Miya Osamu sure does love his food. She almost wishes she was put on onigiri duty again with him. He’s easy to talk to.

He returns looking like the cat that caught the canary, a deeply satisfied smile on his face. Instead of picking up his lunch and leaving, like Natsu thought he would, Miya sets down the steaming paper basket on the table. “Jus’ look at this,” he says, delighted as he drops back into his seat. “I love how the bonito flakes curl up like that, it’s like it’s alive.”

It is a delicious-looking dish. Drizzled with sauces and sprinkled with green onions, it smells divine.

“Looks good,” Natsu says approvingly. “Tell me how it tastes, maybe I’ll get some!”

Miya looks at her for a moment, and then shakes his head. “We’ll share. These things are greasy, sits in my stomach if I eat too many.” He pushes the takoyaki further between them, and passes her a short skewer to pick one up.

She doubts he really needs to worry about oily foods, but Natsu won’t argue with a free snack. “Thank you!” She spears one dumpling and carefully takes a nibble from it.

Miya scoffs at her. “Are ya some kinda squirrel?” Before she can answer, he shoves the whole takoyaki ball in his mouth.

Almost immediately, he howls in pain and garbles through a curse. “Oh, fuuckhs!”

“They’re a little hot,” Natsu says belatedly, wincing in sympathy. Miya starts breathing loudly and fanning his face, trying to suck in cold air through the piping hot dumpling. “Miya, just spit it out,” she says, alarmed. She tries to offer him his bottle of water, or a napkin, but he refuses both.

“Nuh uh,” he replies stormily, still huffing. “Ish fine!”

Natsu presses her palm against her mouth, trying her utmost not to laugh. “W-Why are you—aha—doing this to yourself?” she asks, though he’s incapable of answering.

With a final, brave swallow, he finishes the bite of food and gasps for air. “Oh man,” Miya groans, chugging his water at last. He sets it down with another loud sigh, still red-faced.

Natsu bites on her lip, barely restraining her smile as she takes another small bite from her takoyaki. “So, how was it?”

“Delicious,” Miya answers, defiant. Then he adds, gravely, “I burnt the roof of my mouth.”

That sends her over the edge. Natsu begins to snicker, baffled by his stubbornness. He snorts when he sees the look on her face, already reaching for a second dumpling.

“No, please don’t do it again,” she laughs.

“Aw, shut it,” he chuckles, bashful. This time he pulls the round dumpling apart with his utensils, letting a puff of steam escape the center. “I got too eager is all.”

“Mmhm,” Natsu finishes her own dumpling slowly. “Happens to everyone.”

They resume their conversation about scouts as they eat. Miya talks about going to Nationals for volleyball, mentioning the scouts, but mostly just to comment on the good and bad food vendors in the sports complex. Natsu gives him the last barbecue chicken skewer from her lunch and he gives it an 8.5 out of 10. They get nearly all the way through the takoyaki when Hirao and Ariyoshi finally make their appearance.

“Where have you been?” Natsu asks, suddenly worried. Truth be told, she’d forgotten all about waiting for her teammates. “Lunch is almost over!”

Ariyoshi sits down with a thud, assuming a position similar to Ikejiri. Natsu also forgot that Ikejiri was here.

“I hate it here,” Yoshi announces.

Hirao throws her a sympathetic frown. “You should’ve seen the mess downstairs. It was real bad. Hoshino-san had to stop a fight from breaking out.”

“I didn’t even get to eat the yakitori,” Ariyoshi bemoans. “I got a curry bowl instead, and it sucked.”

Natsu exchanges a wordless look with Miya. “You can have the last takoyaki ball,” he decides benevolently.

Yoshi pokes her head out and silently accepts the offering.

Osamu jogs over to his team’s side of the court two minutes later than everyone else.

“Hey guys, what’d I miss?” he says casually. Kita gives him a look, but he’s technically not late for practice, so he lets it slide.

Atsumu makes a disgusted noise. “Where the hell have you been? You never came back to the table!”

He shrugs. “Went to get more food.”

His brother scowls. “Oh, and it took forty-five minutes? Quit screwin’ with me.”

Osamu shrugs again. “I’m here now, ain’t I?”

Before Atsumu can keep pestering him about it, the coaches call for their attention. Atsumu stalks past him, shouldering Osamu along the way. He takes a step behind Atsumu and kicks him in the ass.

Atsumu shouts, nearly falling on his face, and whips around to take a swing—only to be stopped by Aran. “Simmer down now, Tsumu.”

“But he—!” A look from Kita cuts Atsumu off.

“Osamu will apologize,” Kita says patiently.

Damn, now Kita’s looking at him. Osamu eyes his brother like he’s looking at an unidentified smear on the sole of his shoe. “Sorry, Tsumu.”

This has the effect of infuriating Atsumu even further, but then the coaches begin talking strategy and they’re forced to end things there. By the time they get through practice, Atsumu’s forgotten all about it.

Suna, on the other hand, has not. He sidles up to Osamu as they’re leaving the locker rooms, and asks, “Where did you go during lunch?”

“There was a takoyaki stall,” Osamu murmurs to him.

Suna eyes him dubiously. “It doesn’t take that long to make takoyaki.”

He shrugs, adjusting the strap on his gym bag. “It was nice an’ quiet around there,” Osamu remarks.

“So you sat alone eating takoyaki for forty minutes, right…”

Osamu bristles. Pretends not to notice how Suna’s judgmental eyes are boring into his back. He caves after about thirty seconds.

“I found out that soccer player’s name.”

“Huh? What soccer player?”

He glares at Suna, but soon realizes the question is genuine. “The Miyagi girl,” he elaborates.

“Miyagi…? Oh, you mean the watermelon girl,” Suna grins. “Now that makes more sense.”

For their afternoon practice, Natsu’s team is not alone. Instead, they’re directed to Field 2 with three other schools for a series of training sessions with some of the top coaches from the area—two of them are even trainers from local universities. The players are divided up by position: defenders, midfielders, strikers, and goalies.

The thing is—none of those options are ‘wings’.

“But I’m a wingback,” Natsu says, struggling to understand why Rumi suddenly wants her with the midfielder group. “I’ll go, obviously I want to be a midfielder, but I was just starting to get the hang of being a defender!”

But then her captain just confuses her even more by saying, “You’ve always been a midfielder, Hinata.”

Natsu deflates. “I give up. You’ve made me stay back for defense in every game. How is that not defense?”

“And I also make you run forward for attacking plays,” her captain adds.

“Yeah, you do!” Natsu frowns. “I can’t be everything, though.”

“You’re not. You’re what you need to be, when we need it.”

Natsu stares at her, baffled. “I am?”

“You are,” Rumi confirms, imperious. “You go back, you go forward, you make yourself available for a pass at all times, you fill the gaps in our defense and find space in the attacking half without question,” she explains, sharp eyes boring into Natsu. “Do you know why?”

“Because you wanna run me into the ground?” Natsu asks, exhausted just by the thought of how much sprinting she’s going to do today. Not that it’s any different from what she does in a normal match…

“No,” Rumi lifts her chin. “It’s because when I say you’re on the wing, what I really mean is you own that side of the field.” Her tone leaves no room for protests, not that Natsu has any words left in her head to blurt out. “Aone says you met Coach Hamada this morning.”

Surprised by the abrupt topic change, Natsu freezes. “Yeah,” she nods cautiously. “What about it?”

Her captain raises her hand and begins to count off: “Felizardo and Tachibana of Kusunoki High. Bushida and Kutsuki of Josei Academy. Ishioka and Cristiana of Inarizaki.” She pauses, raising her eyebrows at the first year, and adds, “Hinata and Yamane of Shiratorizawa.”

Oh. Oh.

Natsu doesn’t recognize the players, but those three schools? Those are all high schools that Hamada mentioned. Those are the schools she’s scouting for. This isn’t just training, this is an evaluation. 

"Those are your rivals today," Rumi declares. 

“Captain,” Natsu says, feeling ill. Sweat beads at the back of her neck. “That makes all this ten times worse.”

“Too bad.” Rumi smirks, and it convinces Natsu that her captain is a sadist. “You’re all midfielders and attackers being eyed for a U-17 training camp this December. But more than that, Hinata, every single one of those girls is more skilled than you.”

That one hits Natsu like a punch in the gut. “You’re really bad at pep talks,” she says weakly.

Rumi sighs, putting her hands on her hips. “They’re more skilled because they’ve had more formal training than you. You’ll catch up in technical work, but it’ll take more than a week of camp for that. In the meantime, you need to capitalize on what you do have.”

“I… like what?” Natsu squeaks. Rumi says she does everything, yet it feels like Natsu knows nothing.

“Speed, on and off the ball,” Rumi says at once. “Your sense for positioning. And Hinata—you have more stamina than any of them. Use it.”

“Got it,” Natsu says, eyes wide. That makes sense, but more importantly, she’s never heard Rumi sound so sure—so sure of Natsu. “Thanks, Captain.”

“Ha!” Rumi grins cruelly. “Don’t thank me, Hinata. I expect you to run twice as much as the other girls.”

And Natsu should be groaning in complaint, but instead she grins back. “I can do that.”