Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

00 - the first impression matters most

p1. Love is real.

This one’s simple enough. You grew up around your parents—hopelessly in love with one another, the romantic types put on this planet specifically to make their kids’ life hell in a non-traumatizing, wholesome way, all sweet kisses and gross, get a room! to fill your childhood home. You’ve seen love. During at least one point of your life, there was love.

p2. Love takes work.

Also simple enough. Again we’ll point to your parents—long nights worked by one or the other, working too hard, coming home to find you asleep on the couch with whichever parent was home for you. Bruised egos and hearts, fights that didn’t need to happen but always would have, heated discussions whispered in the kitchen when you should have been in bed, but always always always coming back to each other. Separating from one another whenever there was yelling—keep the peace, come back when we can have a discussion. Trying to love you even when your grades fell too hard to overlook, but disappointed all the same, until you’re yelling, until you don’t fall asleep on the couch waiting for your mom to come home anymore, until you fall asleep studying at your desk listening out for your father, hoping tonight he’ll be home before you finish your homework.

p3. Love must be earned.

—or at least, it can be lost. It’d explain the past two years. You lost his love, and you’ll earn it back.

p4. If love must be earned and love takes work, then love at first sight does not exist.

Of course, none of this explains anything about what’s taking place now, your utterly petrified classmate (one Yachi Hitoka, sits two seats in front of you, never interacted with) darting her eyes back and forth between you and the offender who could perhaps use a reality check against your worldview. For your part, the—question? demand? statement?—had the fun side effect of pitching your voice in embarrassment and disbelief, not to mention totally ruining the vaguely detached image of yourself you’ve very carefully cultivated over the years.

“I—uh—I’m sorry, what did you just say to me?”

p5. Love at first sight does not exist.

Although the other members of the Karasuno High School Volleyball Club wear expressions currently ranging from disbelief to exasperation, you’re not entirely convinced you’ve heard the offender correctly until he steps forward, chest puffed out without a hint of self-doubt in his eyes.

Point of interest: as far as you were aware, volleyball is a sport about really tall guys yelling a lot and hitting a ball just real hard, and this one doesn’t seem to have the height or the shoulder muscles for that. If your first impression is anything to go by, at least he has the volume. He’s got a small build—lithe, even, and it’s hard to tell with most of his teammates dropping their heads into their hands, but you’d say nearly everyone else here is a good head taller than him at least. It’d explain the hair: save for a little bleached tuft hanging down over his forehead, he’s gone to the trouble to spike it, adding a few centimeters to his height total. All in all: confusing, but not unattractive.

c. Therefore, this is not love at first sight.

“Sorry,” he says, tilting his head with a wide smile that doesn’t look very sorry. “That might’ve been a bit rude. Please marry me?”

Yeah, that’s what you’d thought he’d said, alright.

Shimizu, the gorgeous third-year who’d brought you into this line of fire, lets out a long-suffering sigh. One of the other guys is now on the floor, both hands threaded through his hair.

Point of disinterest: this behavior is clearly the offender’s usual.

“Are you stupid or something?” the silver-haired guy on the floor finally manages to say, stage-whispering in utter disbelief. “Seriously, are you just a complete—“

Impulse: Have fun with this.

It’s not that you really intended to cut the guy off—honestly, for all you care, he can yell at his teammate or anyone else all he wants. Hardly your problem. But—

I mean, how are you not supposed to laugh?

This is who you are: logic and impulse at war. Doubled over laughter, immediate stock taken of the situation, and, just because you appreciate his initiative, you let yourself speak without thinking too hard about it, full-body laughter subsiding to giggles as you meet his eyes. “You know what? How about you let me finish introducing myself and ask me that… oh, I dunno, we’ll say a thousand times or so, and then I’ll think about it. ‘Kay?”

The offender—your suitor, you suppose—gains an extra centimeter of height at the words, eyes lighting up his face in a way that might actually be dangerous to someone with a few less brain cells to spare. He looks ready to say something, but stops himself. Nods firmly, mimes zipping his lips as though to let you know you can continue.

You stifle a lingering giggle, take a deep breath, and smooth out your uniform skirt carefully. You know how to smile and know how to charm and now you’ve got a reason to be just interested enough to bother with either. “O-kay. Um, I’m [full name]. Like Yachi-san here, I’m in class 1-5. It’s a pleasure to meet all of you!”

“Nice to meet you!” they shout in eerie, overly-loud unison, bowing to the both of you. Beside you, Yachi nearly shrieks, hiding behind you a little as Shimizu steps forward to ask them not to scare the shit out of you both. To their credit, everyone seems genuinely confused as to what could possibly be startling about suddenly being yelled at by twelve or so guys standing around you in a semi-circle.

As for you?

You adjust your uniform bow carefully, suppressing a smile.

Maybe this “managing a club” idea won’t be as bad as you thought.

~

Okay, point of order: it’s not that you thought managing a club would be bad, necessarily. It’s more that, well—look, pretty third-year approaches you in the hall while you’re barely paying attention, assumes you’re walking with some other random girl in your class, and you’re looking for any excuse to stay out of the house as much as you can, anyway, so why not waste a few minutes this afternoon and some more tomorrow? It’s not like you’re agreeing fully to join or anything. And Yachi, at least, seems nice, though you’re a little sorry she’s been lumped in with you.

You’d decided to make it up to her with a tepid offer of friendship, if for no reason other than to reassure her you don’t want her dead (which appears to be a serious concern of hers?), but in the three minutes it took you to draw this conclusion and walk up to her desk, you’d been absolutely steamrolled by two of the club’s first years from yesterday (Hinata: short, loud, springy, insists that you drop all honorifics for him. Kageyama: tall, quiet, blunt. Appears to just be along for the ride.) and somehow ended up jointly tutoring the two in English.

The days that follow give you no opportunities to learn any further names—your attention splits neatly between trying to figure out how volleyball even works and not fucking dying whenever a hit or whatever goes out-of-bounds. You’d been right about the yelling, mostly right about hitting the ball really hard (the really tall first-year sometimes hits the ball Not Hard, and your suitor doesn’t seem to hit the ball at all?), and wrong about the guys needing to be tall (Hinata, for one, and most of the other guys are only tall in direct contrast to you).

That’s about the extent of what you’ve gotten so far, beyond a bruise or two in preventing Yachi’s soul from leaving her body. The guys seem to want to prevent those, but they’re certainly not perfect. As for your co-trial manager, she is the very definition of skittish, and thus far has confided in you the following:

• someone may want to kill her for standing next to Shimizu for several uninterrupted minutes (fair, Shimizu is extremely pretty)
• the coach is going to kill her (maybe a bit narrow-minded—the Sakanoshita cashier is plenty nice, even if he does look a bit scary)
• someone here is going to break a finger or perhaps an arm (yeah, no way to counter that one. It’s athletics.)
• someone here is going to unintentionally break her face with a stray volleyball (perfectly reasonable. You keep an eye out on her behalf.)

Despite this, she connects to the others far better than you ever could. When Hinata’s study session with the three of you results in a boosted quiz score, he notices her before you and drags her into the hype session, allowing you to sneak on by while they cheer together. That’s fine. You can’t really match their energy, anyhow. Every now and then, though, she gets this look or makes some offhanded comment that makes you think she probably won’t stick with managing.

For your part, you aren’t really decided either way. The Karasuno High School Volleyball Club is full of… well, people. They’re all different, you can’t keep anyone straight, and while they’re certainly polite enough in small doses, as a group, they overwhelm you with an energy that reminds you why you’ve never really gotten into sports before.

Your suitor is perhaps the worst offender of this—everyone gets louder around him, either out of necessity to be heard or simply because he seems to raise the energy levels of whoever’s standing closest to him. He seems to be the root of about thirty percent of the volleyball club’s total volume, and his boundless energy is extended your way whenever possible. Without fail, sometime between your feet crossing the threshold of the volleyball gym and getting your shoes on each day, he’ll shout your name, followed by a full-chested compliment about how great you look today. It was unsettling for two minutes until you saw him take a flying leap at Shimizu in hopes of hugging her and end up getting slapped instead. For now, you’ll take it as a relief that no additional marriage proposals have come your way.

You don’t know whether to be disappointed that your suitor apparently is just your average horny teenager and you’re not exactly special or relieved that, at least, you’re not ugly enough for him to discredit you as an option entirely. If nothing else, it’s hard to sense any sort of real threat from someone so openly and earnestly interested in anyone who breathes.

This is what you tell Shimizu as the three of you walk home after practice, the third time in a week she’s apologized to you for his behavior. She’s not the only one who has—the captain, a taller, average-looking third year, and the vice captain, the pretty third year with the silvery hair, have both gone out of their way to apologize on his behalf, as well as one of the more responsible-seeming second years. Each one has offered, repeatedly, that they can make him shut up if you want them to, but you’ve staunchly refused.

“I mean,” you tell them each time, “he’s harmless. All he’s doing is complimenting me and like, little helpful things like helping me up. But I’ll take you guys up on that if he actually crosses a line.”

What you don’t—won’t—admit to Shimizu or Yachi, and will never admit to any of these guys, is simple enough: you like the attention. You like having a reason for your cheeks to feel a little hot. You like feeling like someone wants you here, like someone’s not just being polite because they haven’t yet found a reason to be rude.

The morning of the first day of your second week of this little trial membership, and like clockwork, your suitor is already in the gym, already fully awake like he actually rests when he sleeps or some completely batshit concept to that tune. It’s six-something in the fucking AM. Normal people should at least be a little groggy right now, but here he is, running right up to you with a brilliant smile that makes you feel like squinting.

Then again, you suppose normal people aren’t the type to propose marriage before you even get your name out.

“Good morning! You’re looking lovely as usual today!”

You huff softly, open your mouth to mumble in some sleep-deprived reply, and end up cutting off in the sort of yawn that hijacks your full body to make its point. When you’ve recovered, you nod to him, rubbing the corner of your eye. “Sorry. I don’t think I’m real for another twenty minutes or so. Mornin’, Senpai.”

Your suitor goes uncharacteristically still, jaw dropping as he stares at you. Suddenly self-conscious, you run through your memory of the past week. You’d assumed he was an upperclassman, not having seen him on the first-year’s floor at all and having noticed that he seemed to be one of the more solid members of the team. Were you wrong? “Um… did I say something wrong?” you ask at last, hoping on hope he doesn’t detect the nerves in your voice.

At your words, he seems to snap out of whatever stupor he’d suddenly gone into, shaking his head furiously. Unless you’re mistaken, his face is turning a lovely shade of red, though you can’t fathom why. “Uh—no! No, nothing’s wrong. I mean, you didn’t say anything wrong! You’re—perfect, you’re perfect, sorry, I—“ He clears his throat, clutches a fist at his chest. You’re starting to think he’s having some kind of medical issue. “I’m not entirely sure you’ve ever done anything wrong in your life, actually.”

You stifle a nervous laugh, tilt your head a little. “Um…?”

“Okay, sorry—I’m good. Perfect. Fine. Please marry me.”

Ah. Alright, then.

A bit more laughter bubbles out of you, less nervous this time. “How about this: you tell me what your name is, because we still haven’t been introduced properly, and ask me that nine hundred and ninety-seven more times, and I’ll think about it.”

The star-struck look on his face gives way to the brightest smile known to the human race. He holds out a hand for you to shake. On the record: your stomach does not flutter in reply.

“Nishinoya Yuu, at your service. Will you really marry me if I ask you a thousand times?”

You take his hand. Shake it carefully. Wonder if this is what dying feels like: no struggle, just letting happen what will happen, feeling strangely overwhelmed for no reason at all. “Hey, I said I’d think about it.”

His hand’s warm. It lingers in yours for just a moment before he drops the hold. “Challenge accepted, then. I hope you’re ready.”

You snort, wave him off as you head over to greet Shimizu. “Sure, sure. We’ll see how long it takes for you to give up, yeah?”

“If that’s what you’re holding out for, you’re gonna be waiting a while,” he calls after you.

You toss your head back with a laugh. “We’ll see about that!”

Koi no Yokan¹ (恋の予感): “premonition of love” or “love at second sight”. in contrast to love at first sight, koi no yokan refers to the sense when meeting someone that falling in love with them is inevitable.

Chapter Text

01 - notes on nishinoya yuu

Nishinoya Yuu, character trait #1: does not do anything halfway.

You knew this even before you managed to pry his name from him, of course: aside from first-meeting marriage proposals, he practices to the fullest, moves fluidly in a way that's sort of enchanting. It's a little scary watching him, the way he throws his entire body into preventing the ball from hitting the floor. His recruitment efforts are the same: full-bodied and enthusiastic.

It follows that he'd double down immediately following your official introduction. His recruitment tactics appear to be tied directly into his determination to get you to marry him. Until yesterday, you'd come to expect being immediately greeted and complimented upon your arrival in the gym, so it's hardly surprising to hear a shout of your name as you fuss with the tongue of your shoe this morning.

"Good morning, [name]-san! Please agree to marry me today!"

A startled laugh bubbles out of you. You look up to greet him as he approaches. "Morning, Nishinoya-senpai. Do you, like, mine that energy from somewhere? I could use some."

He laughs, shakes his head. "No, sorry, it's all naturally made right here." He thumps his chest. "You'll have to plug me in if you wanna steal any."

"Fine, fine, you can keep your secrets, but you're still gonna have to ask me nine-hundred and ninety-six more times."

He huffs, helps you to your feet. "I'll get there in no time, just you wait!"

"Uh-huh, sure." You roll your eyes.

"So what are you thinking so far?"

"Thinking?"

"About joining as our manager! We'll look really cool with three managers, you know. And I gotta keep you close so I can convince you to marry me!"

"Right." You snort. "One, I'm pretty sure Yachi-san hasn't agreed yet, either, which means you might still end up with just two even if I agree, but—two—I've been so caught up with just trying to figure out what to call everyone and make half a sense of what's going on when you guys play that I've got no brain space left to figure out if I actually wanna do this, sorry. No decisions yet."

"Do you have plans for lunch, then? I can teach you, so you know how awesome we are when you watch our practice match later."

Right, the club adviser had told all of you yesterday that he'd accepted a last-minute practice match. "No plans, no."

"Great! You were in 1-5, right? I'll come kidnap you."

You're not sure saying you're free necessarily counts as agreeing, but, shit, you do need the help. "Fine, fine, go warm up or whatever. I'm pretty sure you're not here to flirt with me."

"Excuse you, I was born to flirt with you!"

"Senpai," you say, firm yet playful. "Go practice."

Yachi is staring at you in awe when you greet her. "How do you have the strength of heart to actually flirt? I think my heart would explode if I even tried!"

"Flirting?" You tilt your head. "I mean, he was probably flirting. I was just—bantering or something. I dunno."

"Is… is there a difference? Ah! Not that I'm trying to argue with you or anything, just—"

You laugh, shake your head. "You're fine. I'm just giving him some time to figure himself out, and then I'm sure he'll forget I even exist. In the meantime, might as well have fun with it, right?"

~

Nishinoya Yuu, character trait #2: surprisingly helpful.

You very nearly forgot, over the course of the morning, that you had agreed to eat lunch with your suitor. (Note to self: get used to thinking of him by name before you accidentally call him "my suitor" where someone can hear you.) He's happy to remind you, chiefly by showing up at the door to your classroom and scaring you shitless by shouting your name. Between the way you visibly startle and the part where you've been sought out by name twice in the past few weeks, he's really risking letting your classmates know you're a real person and not just part of the background.

Blessedly, he does not greet you with his usual. The last thing you need right now is for your classmates to think about the two of you. Thinking about you at all is annoying enough.

You grab your lunch and meet him at the door, already sighing with a smile. "Someone didn't forget, I see."

He mocks offense as you fall into step beside him. "What did I do to make you think I could ever forget you?"

"Hm, I think it's just your general vibe?"

He huffs, crosses his arms. "I'll have to set you straight, then!"

"Looking forward to it. Where, exactly, are we going, by the way?"

"The roof! It's nice out today."

"And if I'm afraid of heights?"

"You're not, but I'll protect you, anyway!"

You laugh, let him lead you to a secluded corner of the rooftop. "You're so confident. I really could be, you know."

"You probably wouldn't bring it up like that if you were. And most people scared of heights don't spend their lunch staring out of the third floor window."

"Point taken." You settle in, spread out your bento box as he produces his own.

"Your lunch looks so good," he says. "Did you make it yourself?"

He's edging dangerously close to a raw wound, and this here is why you're so adamant on remaining detached. "Uh, yeah. Didn't feel like cooking much last night."

He notices the shift in your tone. Nods. Before he can decide to do something stupid and pry into your personal life, you redirect.

"Alright, Senpai, let's get started. I seem to recall someone was going to help me figure out what's happening in volleyball so I'm not totally lost this afternoon?"

He brightens up in an instant. "Right! I hope you brought your notebook, this one's gonna be on the test."

He laughs when you do actually pull a small notebook out of your pocket, along with a pen. "Ready."

"Perfect! Okay, so..."

To his credit, he clearly knows what he's talking about. You'd hope so, given that he's, you know, a volleyball player, but even so, he explains the sport to you in simple, easy terms. He's surprisingly patient, pauses to let you take notes as he goes over the different positions. Swells with pride as he explains his own position—libero, apparently—and takes extra time to explain it in detail. The fact that he's a libero seems to be the reason you never see him spiking in practice like everyone else—he's not allowed to when it comes to matches.

More than his explanations, you can't help but notice the way he talks about volleyball: eyes lit up, somehow even more animated than usual. Like it's something he loves, instead of just something he does.

…you can't remember the last time you felt that way about something.

"So what I'm getting from this, thanks to my very detailed notes and your very useful explanations…" You make a show of reviewing your notes before you continue. "PVP 'Don't Let the Ball Touch the Floor'. That's it."

He tosses his head back with laughter. "Please marry me."

"Give me a rundown of everyone's names so I don't have to ask and make it awkward, ask another nine hundred and ninety-five times, and sure."

He does just that—rough description, full name, year, and, just for your benefit, he lists what positions they play, too.

"Honestly, the best way to learn is gonna be to watch specific players during a match instead of just watching the ball. You'll figure it out pretty quick just by seeing how each position actually acts on the court."

You nod. "Alright, I can do that. And, uh, thanks for all your help today. I really do appreciate it."

He flashes a grin your way. "You can thank me by starting with watching the libero today. I'll play better if I know your eyes are on me."

You roll your eyes as you start packing up your lunch. "Right. I'll watch someone today, at least."

He walks you back to your classroom, waves you off with a too-loud "see you at practice later!". Leaves you standing in the hall next to your classroom door with a lingering smile on your lips.

~

Nishinoya Yuu, character trait #3: horrible for your image.

Lunch left you with a buzzy sort of anticipation for the afternoon. Shimizu has given you the rundown on what you need to do today. You and Yachi will be scorekeeping during the practice match while she keeps stats. Easy enough.

Before that, though, Shimizu asks one of you to help carry and set out the jerseys. You volunteer immediately, mostly because you feel like you'll be less likely to get inundated with guys asking you if they can help you carry things if they're not there. Yachi stays back to set out chairs.

This is how, just after the team from the other school arrives, you finish stacking jerseys on a chair and are immediately assaulted—or maybe graced?—by the sight of twelve shirtless athletes.

This is how, cheeks burning too hot, you find yourself with your face in your hands, eyes peeking through your fingers, unable to tear them away from lean, muscular torsos in every direction.

This is how Nishinoya finds an opening to laugh at you, the bastard, like you're just supposed to know where to look right now. He waggles his eyebrows, grins smugly at you.

"See anything you like, [name]-san?"

"Oh shut up," you reply, voice pitching into an embarrassing whine.

He leans in close, grin widening. "I think that's a yes. You know, if you just married me, you wouldn't need to be shy about it—"

Before you can hit him, you find that one of the other guys has already beat you to the (in this case, literal) punch. Another second year, you're pretty sure—if you remember your notes from lunch correctly, the name Ennoshita comes to mind. "How many times do we have to tell you not to scare the new managers off? Quit trying to flirt and put your shirt on."

"I'm not scaring her off!" he protests even as he grabs his jersey. "Right?"

You try your best not to come across too embarrassed when you lift your head from your hands. "I dunno, you might be," you tease. "Nine hundred and ninety-four, by the way."

He pulls his shirt on at last, saving you from having to think too hard about his bare chest. Ennoshita gives him a purposeful look, and he pouts and rushes off to playfully bully a third year. (Per Nishinoya: Azumane, but everyone calls him Asahi; be harsh with him, he needs to strengthen his heart. You will not be doing that.) Before he launches into whatever he has to say to Azumane, you swear you catch him casting a worried look back you-ways.

It feels so out of place on him that you're sure you imagined it.

~

Nishinoya Yuu, character trait #4: serious (only when playing volleyball?).

The guys have a sort of aura that washes over them the moment they step onto the court. One moment: bickering, (jokingly?) threatening one another, at least three visibly anxious to the point where even you (just learned their names sort of, still checking your notes whenever you can get away with it) can tell they're anxious about the practice match. The next: silent, determined looks, a sort of dignity that leaves both you and Yachi stunned.

When the time comes, you and Yachi sit by the scoreboard with Shimizu, who sits off to the side with a notebook and pencil in hand. Your task is simple enough: if the ref signals a point for Karasuno, you flip the number up one. If he signals a point for Ougi Nishi, that's Yachi's job. The signals were not clarified to either of you so far, but Shimizu assures you that those two, at least, will be obvious, and you'll have time to pick the others up as you go.

Kageyama starts the match off the way you've traditionally assumed volleyball to be: tall guy hit ball real hard. The difference is, outside of the practices you've seen so hard, the sheer impact leaves the gym silent.

The ref raises an arm towards Karasuno's side of the court. Yeah, okay, that signal's obvious enough. You flip the score as the guys cheer. Ougi Nishi looks utterly stunned, and oh—maybe that serve was amazing even to people who are actually experienced in volleyball. Nishinoya did mention that Kageyama is pretty well-known as a good player.

Oh, right. He also told you to watch specific players to learn a bit more about the positions.

For now, you keep your eyes on Kageyama for a few points. He's a… setter, you think it was? He'll be the only one on Karasuno's side of the court playing that position if he doesn't get switched out, so it seems like a good place to start.

"E-everything's so fast," Yachi breathes. "How do you even keep track of that?"

You nod, lean over a bit. "Nishinoya-senpai suggested watching specific players at a time to get a good sense for what they're actually doing, instead of just watching the ball."

"Ohh. Then… I'll watch Hinata. Who're you watching?"

"Kageyama-san. It seemed like the easiest—"

The ball that had just left Kageyama's hands hit the ground in an instant. At some point, Hinata had entered the equation.

"…what was that? Wasn't that way faster than the other spikes?"

Shimizu laughs softly beside you. "Those two are the only ones who can pull that quick off. It's a big part of Karasuno's offense."

"It's amazing," Yachi says.

You nod in silence. Flip the score as another point comes.

"If you're even one step behind him, you can't catch up," Shimizu says. "And if you focus on him…"

Three of Ougi Nishi move to block Hinata. The one with the shaved head—Tanaka, close with Nishinoya, part of Shimizu's fan club—spikes in turn, unbothered by anyone at all.

"…then someone else on the court will punish you for it."

You glance back at her. At the smile on her lips—a little prideful, understated and overly pretty. No wonder Nishinoya and Tanaka are obsessed with her.

Karasuno takes the first set, leading by several points. For the second set, you switch targets. You did sort of promise you'd watch Nishinoya for a little bit, and it's not like that different-colored jersey doesn't make your eyes naturally draw his way anyway. For some reason, he's in an orange version of what everyone else is wearing. You're pretty sure anyone with even slightly less confidence wouldn't be able to pull it off.

"Hey, Shimizu-senpai?"

"Mm?"

"Why does Nishinoya-senpai wear a different-colored jersey, anyway?"

"Oh, that's because he's the libero. Liberos have to follow a bunch of different rules that don't apply to the other players, so he wears a different color to make it easy for the referee to catch it if he violates one of these rules."

You wince. "Ouch. So it's literally to force eyes on him?"

"Basically."

"I think I'd hate that," Yachi says.

"Kinda suits him, though."

You settle into watching and score-keeping, your eyes tracking Nishinoya as he plays. He's fluid, confident. Moves for the ball almost before you recognize that he would even need to. More than once, he's in exactly the right spot on the court, like he knew he'd need to be there. You'd noticed the bruises on his arms, correctly assumed they came from volleyball after some time watching him play, but now you fully understand exactly where they come from—the force of the spikes he picks up, the way he throws himself onto the floor with reckless abandon just to get the ball up. Every now and then, you catch sight of his expression—pure focus on nothing but the ball, nothing but the game. It's enough to make you shiver.

He's entrancing.

When the match is over, Karasuno winning two to zero, you help where you can (which isn't much—apparently, the guys are supposed to handle all the cleaning and you're supposed to sit there and look pretty) and listen to Yachi gush to Hinata. They're… slightly incomprehensible.

"That was so—so—it was like—"

"Like a feeling of whoosh, right!?"

"Exactly!"

From behind you, in a tired voice: "Am I the only one who can't understand half of anything he says?"

You stifle a laugh. This one would be Tsukishima, then. The overly tall one. He's sarcastic and kind of an asshole. He's not rude all the time, though. He's probably more your type of person than most people here. "I think it's one of those things where you just have to let the feeling carry you instead of trying to understand."

"Yeah, that's great if you can feel anything. I just feel confused. Or maybe annoyed."

"Hey, it's a feeling. That's something."

Yachi catches your eye by bowing to Hinata. "It's just that you guys are so amazing, and I'm—I mean, a townsperson B like me joining such amazing people is—"

…yeah, you get that.

"Now that you mention it, I played that role, too!"

"Eh? Y-you did?"

Kageyama snickers behind Hinata, and whatever moment Yachi had been having has already passed as the boys dissolve into their usual bickering. You guess she's just… hung up on low self-esteem? Is that all this is?

You change out with Yachi, mind wandering as you get into your school uniform. It's not like you need friends. There's a reason you're at the end of the first term and still—mostly—eating lunches alone. You don't care about all that stuff. You've got more important things to worry about. But…

She's skittish, and you kind of want to protect her like the little sister you never had. That's it.

"Hey, Yachi-san?"

She squeaks, head snapping to you like you've caught her doing something wrong. "S-sorry!"

You blink. "…for what?"

It's sort of amazing how clearly you can see her train of thought careening as she panics, trying to figure out what, exactly, you expect her to apologize for right now. She stammers something, and you laugh.

"I just wanted to ask if you wanted to walk home together. If we both decide to do this, it'll be good to actually be friends, right?"

…not that you think you'll do this.

"Oh! U-um, sure, I just think—I mean, are you okay with being friends with someone like me?"

"You realize you're just, like, a normal girl, right?" She flinches at the words, giving you a wounded look. You sigh. "That… came out wrong. I mean you're not uniquely bad or something. You're not any worse than anyone else at this school."

"Oh… I'm sorry. I guess I just…"

"Get caught up in your head, right?" You smile, tilt your head as you finish adjusting your bow. "Me too. I think my 'caught up in my head' is just a little lower-energy than yours, that's all."

"R-really? You always seem so cool!"

You laugh, slipping your bag onto your shoulder as she does the same. "Thanks. Trust me, I'm very careful to do that on purpose. I don't want people approaching me just because they feel bad, you know?"

"I mean, you do always look a little lonely at lunch and stuff, but—oh my god I'm so sorry that felt bad to say—"

"Oi. If you keep apologizing, I'm literally going to tell you not to apologize to me. Then you're going to apologize for apologizing, and I'm gonna tell you to stop apologizing, and then you're going to apologize for apologizing again, and we're going to get caught in an endless feedback loop and die in a vicious cycle of unnecessary apologies. Is that what you want?"

She pauses. Laughs. "No, I guess not."

"As for looking lonely… I didn't realize people could see that, I guess. But I'm the one to blame. I'd probably have more friends if I really tried, but, you know. Didn't feel like it, I guess."

"Is that why you agreed to try out managing?"

You shrug. "Kind of? It was more just that it's something to do. Keeps me out of the house and all that."

"Do you think you'll stay on?"

"Well…" You trail off. "I don't have a strong reason not to. I'm just not sure I have a strong reason to stick with it. Y'know?"

She nods.

"What about you? I overheard you talking with Hinata a little bit earlier. You didn't sound too convinced. Impressed, maybe, but not convinced."

She rubs the back of her neck. "I… I want to, I just…" A sigh. "I don't know if I should? Everyone's so passionate, and I'm just… here. I guess it'd be rude."

"I think it's fine to do it just because you want to."

"Do you not want to?"

"I don't not want to." And that's the issue, isn't it? "I guess that's my hangup. Too lukewarm. It's something to do, and they're kinda fun, and it's cool to watch. Is that enough reason to say yes?"

She watches the sky as she responds. "Earlier, before you got to the changing room, Shimizu-senpai was saying that she didn't really know anything about volleyball or being a manager when she joined. She said it's enough to be a little curious at the start, and the rest can come with time."

You walk the rest of the way in silence. At your turn, you stop and offer her a smile. "This is me. Thanks for walking back with me. I'll think about managing if you do."

She smiles. "Sure! It's a deal!"

~

Nishinoya Yuu, character trait #5: oddly considerate.

The shout of your name comes not long after leaving the house in the morning. You'd spent the night the usual way—cook, clean, finish homework, play video games until you can't justify waiting up any longer— so you're nice and groggy when a certain someone chases you down.

"I thought that looked like you! Have you always lived on this street?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Good morning. You're starting to graduate to stalker, you know."

He winces. "I swear I'm not. Look, I live right there. That girl leaving the house right now is my older sister." He waves at the girl in question—she's definitely way older than the both of you, dressed in work clothes instead of school clothes as she leaves a nearby house. Long, dark hair. From this distance, probably taller than Nishinoya. "Nee-san! Kaede!"

She jolts, looks up at the shouting. "It's too early in the morning for this! What do you want?"

"I'm trying to prove I'm not a stalker!"

She looks at you. Looks back at Nishinoya. Laughs. "He's totally a stalker. Please get him arrested before his six-in-the-morning shouting bothers the neighbors. Again."

…thinking back, you do recall more than one study session being interrupted by loud neighbors over the course of your life. "Oh my god you're actually my neighbor. I think you've actually woken me up before."

The thought is… honestly? A bit unsettling. What are the chances he's up-to-date on neighborhood gossip from two years ago?

He grins sheepishly. "Sorry?"

"You'd better be," you grumble. "Let me guess, this proves we're soulmates?"

"Hey, you're the one who brought up soulmates, not me. I'm sort of glad I caught you, though." He rubs the back of his neck, looks actually worried as he mulls over something. "Are you like, really okay with the whole 'marry me' thing and all that?"

You blink in surprise. "…I'm sort of surprised you're even asking, actually."

"Well, yeah, of course I'm asking. Chikara joked about it yesterday, but I don't actually want to scare you off or make you uncomfortable. I'll stop and not chase you down on the way to school and all that if you want."

…huh. Okay. Interesting. Way more thoughtful than he looks.

Not that he doesn't look thoughtful. Or that he looks un-thoughtful. Thoughtless. Just… you know what? I'm losing the thread here. Whatever. He's thoughtful, okay?

Still, you smile. Tilt your head. "I'm not uncomfortable, Senpai. Weirdly, even less uncomfortable knowing that you care enough to check."

"Of course! No real man's gonna make a lady uncomfortable if he can avoid it!"

You snort. "Somehow, I feel like that's the reverse of the usual thought process, but, sure. I'll take it."

He breaks off into a yawn before he can reply. Oddly, he's kind of cute when he—stop that.

The urge to tease him, however, is too strong to resist. "Aren't you normally the hyperactive one in the mornings? What, couldn't sleep last night? Stay up playing video games or something?"

He glares playfully. "For your information, I was studying."

"Ooh, studying. Definitely not cramming everything last-minute before final exams because you're worried about the Tokyo games, right?"

He does not reply. Got it in one.

"You realize how much less it'd suck for you if you actually studied the rest of the time?"

"How do you know I don't study the rest of the time?"

You arch a brow. "I'll be nice and say it was just because I said 'cramming' for finals. People who study the material all semester don't cram."

"I bet you don't have any trouble with studying at all," he grumbles. "My brain's been melting. It just rolls right off."

You huff. "Do you want some study tips? It's not like I can teach you the actual material, being your underclassman and all, but, like, I'm willing to bet actual money you're just rereading your notes all the time and then feeling like you're barely understanding anything. I can probably point you to a more effective approach."

His jaw drops. "What are you, psychic? I'll buy you a popsicle after practice today."

"That one's also because you're cramming last minute. Most people who study the whole time figure out all the tricks that make studying actually useful." You roll your eyes. "And you don't have to buy me anything. It's fine."

He stares at you a long, long moment. "I sort of feel like you might be judging me, but I don't care. Marry me."

"Is that a yes to the study tips, or like what?"

"Yes. Please."

You laugh. "Alright, then. If you actually listen to what I tell you and ask another nine hundred ninety-three times, I'll think about marrying you."

Chapter Text

02 - guilt tastes like cola garigari-kun

"You know, when I said I'd bet actual money, I didn't mean you had to actually do anything. We didn't even say 'deal'."

He does not let up. You survived practice as before, with a bit more interest and a bit more focus on understanding what was going on, only to find Nishinoya waiting for you at the gate after you changed out.

"Your chance to protest was when I said I'd buy it for you this morning," he replies easily.

"I did protest. You ignored me."

"I don't remember that! Come on, let's go to Sakanoshita. We need to plan anyway, right?"

"…fine. I will allow you to buy me one."

"One box? Got it."

You snort. "Remember what I said this morning about actually listening to me?"

"I am! You said 'one'. You didn't give units."

That you didn't. "I didn't think it need to be said."

"Compromise: I'll get you just one popsicle, but you gotta promise to enjoy it!"

"And if I feel bad letting you spend money on me?"

"That's why you've gotta enjoy it! What's the point of life if you don't let yourself have something you like every now and then?"

You bite back the suggestion that you might not even like popsicles. There's probably a point where protesting just gets annoying, anyway, for you and the other person. And if he wants to, and if you don't have a real reason not to…

This, you think, may be what's wrong with you: you say yes when you don't feel like saying no strongly enough. You aren't sure, really, what else to say. So you let the pretty second-year drag you to the convenience store for ice cream you "won" in a "bet" no one made, and because it keeps you from having to go home as soon, you loiter with him and a few others outside the store. You take your time, hold conversation not to be polite or to entertain anyone, but because it makes the popsicle take longer, keeps you from going home for just a few minutes more. It does not make the popsicle taste sweeter. If there's a next time—and you suspect there will be—you'll have to push back a bit harder against the whole "buying you things" thing.

Your one consolation is that they're not all here for you. You doubt they would be, but still: Hinata and Kageyama have found some new topic to bicker about, the third years sans Shimizu are busily chatting over nikuman, and Tanaka and Ennoshita have relieved you of being Nishinoya's sole focus for the time being.

"So. [name]-san."

You glance up from your popsicle³ (cola-flavored, because you're sensible). "Mm?"

"I heard plenty about our practice match yesterday from Yachi-san⁴ talking to Shouyo, but someone didn't give her thoughts on how awesome we were."

You roll your eyes. "Uh-huh? That so?"

"Yeah! What'd you think?"

Tanaka and Ennoshita regard you with mild interest. Of course they do. You can't imagine any high school boy not wanting to hear compliments about how well they played. "I'm not gonna yell like she did. No shade to her, of course. That's just not me."

"I'm not asking you to! I just wanna hear all about how cool you think I am."

That draws a laugh from you. "Fine. I'll be honest, since you went out of your way to buy me a popsicle I didn't ask for and specifically told you you didn't have to buy for me."

"Really!?"

"Watch," Ennoshita says quietly to Tanaka, "this is the part where [surname]-san eviscerates him."

"It was fun. You guys are interesting to watch, and I could tell by watching you play that you're good."

"And...?"

"And I followed your advice by watching specific players instead of the ball." You pause, take a moment to save a melting bit of runaway popsicle from certain ruin. "I guess it was helpful."

"You guess? Who were you watching?"

The popsicle is really adding to this experience. Namely that it allows you a moment to figure out the most fun way to respond, which is, of course, to mess with him. "…Kageyama-san."

He looks stricken. "[name]-san?"

Tanaka laughs. "Man, no wonder you proposed on sight, Noya-san. She's perfect for you."

"Right? C'mon, [name]-san, hurry up and marry me already!"

"Nine hundred ninety-two, but thanks for the popsicle."

"I think maybe you should try making her feel welcome instead of pressuring the girl, but what do I know?" Ennoshita says.

"I'm not pressuring her!" he protests. "I even asked if she was okay with everything!"

"He did," you admit. "Oh—that reminds me. Nishinoya-senpai, did you wanna, like, meet up over lunch for the study thing, or…?"

He visibly lights up. "Right!"

"Study thing?" Tanaka asks. "What study thing?"

"Hinata mentioned you guys can't have any make-up exams or you have to miss some practice matches or something, right? I can't exactly tutor, seeing as I'm only a first year and have no idea what you guys are doing in class, but I offered to give him some tips for actually studying in a way that does anything."

"R-really? Can you help me out, too? If that's not too much trouble!" Tanaka bows deeply to you.

"Sure, why not?"

"Not to get between all this," Ennoshita pipes up, "but you two definitely already gave up all of your lunches between now and exams."

"Chikaraaa," Nishinoya whines. "Isn't this important?"

"Sure, but not necessarily more important than you actually going over the material. Why not study on the weekend?"⁶

"Is that okay?" The two look to you.

You shrug. "I don't really do things, so I don't mind. Why not?"

"You'd really give up your weekend for us?"

"Oh, but I guess we can't use a classroom or something if it's the weekend. My house is no good, either…"

"Ryuu, if you're coming, it's gotta be my place," Nishinoya says.

"Why yours? My house is perfectly good."

"She lives down the street from me. Makes more sense, right?"

"[surname]-san, are you really okay with that? These two can be a lot."

"Oh, I don't mind!" You wave a dismissive hand. "Really. It'll be rough playing without the full team if everyone can't go to Tokyo, right? And Yachi-san's already got Hinata and Kageyama-san locked down. Not that I think I'll be nearly as helpful. More of a longer-term solution thing."

"Do you think it'll actually stick?"

You smile. Tilt your head. "I'll see what I can do."

~

Nishinoya insists on walking you home afterward. You accept, namely because you can't really justify not walking with him when you're going the same way. You do not, however, let him carry your bag, although he insists pretty hard on doing that, too.

"I can't believe you said yes to Ryuu crashing our study date," he teases.

"Date?" You raise an eyebrow. "That's news to me, Senpai. Besides, I didn't really have a good reason to say no."

"Is that all it is? Do you secretly just not want to hang out with me?"

"That's not it. I'm just too nice of a person. I'll be a saint whenever I get around to dying."

Yeah, that's good enough. The sarcasm soothes the ache just a little bit.

"Pretty sure you already are. I mean, I worship you, so—"

You snort. "No, you don't. You barely know me."

"I'd like to, though."

Your steps stutter to a stop. "Do you just, like, say everything that pops into your head, or like what?"

"Not everything! But most things, yeah."

"That explains the marriage proposals. You should rethink that, by the way. Pretty sure you're supposed to love someone before you even think about proposing."

"Haven't you heard of love at first sight? I knew from the moment I saw you that I needed to marry you!" He punctuates his sentence with a dramatic thump of his chest.

"Right. Yeah. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but love at first sight is a myth. Whatever you're feeling right now isn't love. It's just chemicals in your head telling you to find a mate because our brain chemistry hasn't caught up to modern society."

"How is my brain chemistry telling me to do something not the same as me wanting it?"

…he has a point, but you're the one who's right here. You stand your ground. "It's just different, alright? I'm not trying to be mean or anything. You seem like a nice guy. But you're setting yourself up for failure if you get attached here, and… I don't know. It's kinda obvious you haven't thought about this. At all. I'm not gonna be the one responsible if you get hurt chasing me, you know?"

"Is that why you told me to ask a thousand times?"

"Yeah, kinda." You fall into step beside him again with a sigh. "Mostly on impulse, though. It seems that I just sort of say things around you."

He grins. "That's love."

You're not dignifying that with a response.

"How about this? I'll keep up with my proposals, because a thousand is a big number to get through, and you stick around long enough for me to get to know you, and by the time I hit a thousand, you'll be ready to admit that you wanna marry me."

"You're impossible. Do you do this with every girl who gives you the time of day?"

He tosses his head back as he laughs. "Only the pretty ones."

"And let me guess, you think every girl's pretty?"

"You really are psychic! But, you know, there's only one pretty girl who's ever given me the time of day."

"Right." You pause, nod to his house. "Go home, Casanova. And don't stay up too late studying. Your brain can't actually form memories if you don't rest it."

He waves as he goes. "I'll pick you up tomorrow!"

"Stalker!" you call back in reply.

~

Okay, so that didn't go the way you planned. At all, really. So that's cool.

You meander slowly on your way home—just a few doors down, really not far at all, honestly, it's a marvel that you've never once run into him before—a bit wary of the thought that he might see which house is yours. It's not that you sense any threat from him. Nothing like that. You just… don't want any questions if he happens to recognize the house.

You don't bother calling out any sort of greeting when you get home—there's no way your father darkens the door before eleven at the earliest. Instead, you kick off your shoes in the genkan, nudge them to the side and out of the way so he doesn't trip on them later, and move right to getting started on dinner. Over washing and peeling potatoes, you try to think this whole thing through properly.

If you told him you were uncomfortable or didn't want him to, Nishinoya probably wouldn't press the issue. You don't think he would have even bothered checking if he didn't care at least a little bit about your answer. Admittedly, after the Shimizu-flying-leap-slap incident, he did seem to back off pretty noticeably, too. Hell, the other volleyball club members have made pretty clear that they'll tell him off on your behalf, so you wouldn't even have to say it to him directly.

But… he's nice. That's the part you can't seem to move past. Nishinoya Yuu is nice. You haven't smiled this much since your mother's death, admittedly for lack of trying. It's nice getting complimented every morning just for showing up. Nicer when it's a day you know you look like shit. You don't really mind the whirlwind keeping you from coming back to an empty house.

You always look a little lonely, Yachi had said. Does your suitor think the same? Did you look so lonely that he had to make you feel better even before he got your name?

Do you actually feel less lonely like this?

You set aside the peeled potatoes to soak and sigh. Grab the cutting board to scrape the peels into the trash bin. All this gives you is another reason to sigh—it's full again. It makes meals easier, sure, but it stings a little to see the evidence of yet another convenience store dinner in the trash.

At least if you go through with this manager thing, your father won't be hurting for food.

Maybe you should start learning how to meal prep in bulk. If you do go through with this, it'll be hard to keep up with chores and cook every night. The last thing you need is for your grades to drop.

You're out of milk again. Running low on rice, too. You barely have the ingredients to throw together a passable lunch for tomorrow, which means staying up tonight to actually catch your father when he gets home. But as much as you can skimp at home—and you do skimp this time, not bothering to assemble a real dinner so much as prepping extra lunch ingredients into something that won't give you food poisoning—you don't need anybody bugging you at school about why you're not eating or why your bento is just seventeen aging cherry tomatoes and a rice ball.

No, there's no getting around this. You work through homework as fast as you can manage, then curl up on the couch with a cookbook and a notepad and wait.

You wake up to the sound of stumbling in the doorway. You're not exactly sure why you bother making sure your father won't trip over your shoes when he regularly trips over the step into the house proper anyways. He's sober, it seems, but exhausted. The clock reads 11:49 PM—no wonder, if he's just getting home from work.

"Welcome home," you pipe up when he's caught his balance.

He jolts, looks up at you with a deer-in-headlights look like you've caught him having an affair or something. "[name]. You're still awake?"

"I fell asleep on the couch," you admit lamely, then wince at the wounded look on his face. "Just woke up."

"Alone?"

You shouldn't have waited up for him like this. It's just another way to re-open old wounds. Just another layer of awkwardness in this stupid fucking haunted house.

"Yeah. Sorry. I just—we need groceries."

"Right. Groceries. How much do you need?"

This is the part where you try not to feel bad. "Honestly? I'm not sure. Can I just get a card to use? Last time I misjudged the prices and couldn't get everything I needed, and it's hard to plan without going to the store. The price of eggs went up again, too."

He nods. "Sure. Yeah." There's a moment where he's fumbling for his wallet, and then, he's thrusting out a debit card in one hand, barely even looking at you. "I'll get you your own card when I have the time. For now, you can use that. The PIN's her birthday. I'll keep it topped up, don't you worry."

You take it. It doesn't feel like a victory.

"Now you won't have to stay up waiting for me anymore. Just get whatever you like, I'll keep eating at work."

"Okay. Thank you."

"You should head to bed."

"Okay."

He pitches a plastic bag, the remnants of another convenience store dinner, in the trash. Stumbles off to his bedroom.

Leaves you sitting on the couch, a debit card in your hands, half-finished shopping list on your lap.

Leaves his daughter to handle herself alone.

~

You make it through the next day as easily as any other: a bleary-eyed morning ("good morning [name]-san! Please agree to marry me today!"), taking careful notes in class, lunch blissfully alone. Post-afternoon practice, you get changed and stop at the gate, once again hearing your name called after you before you can escape.

"[name]-san! Wanna walk home together?"

For once, you have a reason to say no, and so you do. Apologetic smile, gentle dip of your head in lieu of a proper bow. "Sorry, Nishinoya-senpai. I have to go grocery shopping tonight, so I can't."

"Oh. Wanna go grocery shopping together, then? I can help carry your bags!"

"I can carry them myself," you say. "I usually handle the shopping alone, anyway."

"But it'd be easier if you let someone help you, right?"

…it would be easier. No big reasons to say no, one lukewarm reason to say yes. "…why not?"

So quietly marking up your grocery list gets crashed by a chatty, pretty guy who happily carries the groceries and sometimes even makes you laugh. In the frozen food section, you stop when a box of Cola-flavored popsicles catches your eye.

They're not on your list. You don't need them. There is no justification for buying popsicles with your dad's card.

"You gotta let yourself enjoy things every now and then," Nishinoya reminds you in a sing-song tone.

You glare at him.

That night, your groceries are half as difficult to carry home. You don't let Nishinoya carry them inside, just have him leave them on the porch and you'll come back for the rest. Before you start on dinner, you kick back with a guilt-flavored popsicle and try not to think about anything at all.

Chapter Text

03 - say yes if you don't have a reason to say no

One thing you appreciate about trialing a managership for the volleyball club is the fact that you don't have much time left in the day to think. Yachi is perfectly happy and perfectly suited to tutoring Hinata and Kageyama, which means you get to spend lunches planning out ways to keep the house livable and eat regularly around the amount of time you have left in your day. The volleyball club practices every single day, which would be impressive if it didn't mean that agreeing to this would eat up a lot of time.

That isn't a real objection, though. There's solutions, so you figure those solutions out. By the time you're sitting at a table in Nishinoya's living room with two overly-active teenage boys hanging off your every word, you only have one real objection left:

Wouldn't it be kind of shitty to take advantage of them like this?

Maybe that's the real reason you're sitting down with them. Nishinoya's house is cleaner than you expected, but then again, you have confirmation of at least one more responsible sibling. You like the mental image of him frantically cleaning before your arrival, though, and, being a house in the same neighborhood that also hasn't been heavily renovated, it's kind of cozy. The tatami mats are soft under your fingertips as you absently drag your hand across them. It's a good fidget as you go over study tips with the guys.

Tanaka and Nishinoya take careful notes on what you're saying—all things you'd think would be obvious, but maybe that's only in hindsight. Things like "make flashcards and actually test yourself on the information instead of just passively reading them" and "don't sit down the whole time if it sucks and you can't focus". You should have guessed this from seeing them practice, but the terms "regular breaks" and "disciplined breaks" do not appear to have previously been in their vocabulary.

"Don't you also need to do that for sports?" you ask at this latest revelation, resting your chin in your hand. "I mean, if you go nonstop all practice without like… drinking water and sitting down for two minutes, you'll collapse."

"It's not like we're exercising, though," Tanaka says. "We're just sitting here, so…"

You level a bewildered look his way. "Your brain uses up more energy than the rest of your muscles combined. Thinking is incredibly difficult work. That's why humans are basically the only known species who do it at our level. We had to fundamentally change the sizes of our brains and do all this complicated stuff with food to even make it possible."

Nishinoya lets out a dramatic sigh. "That's so stupid, though! I don't even get tired after studying!"

"Uh, yeah, you do. Your exact words to me were, 'my brain's been melting' and 'it just rolls right off'. That's because you're working too hard, not studying effectively, and not taking enough breaks. Brain fatigue doesn't feel the same as other muscles because it's coming from stuff happening inside of your head instead of from repetitive motions."

Somehow, this doesn't reassure him. His head is fully on the table. "I hear everything you're saying, and it all makes sense, but all I'm getting is that I'm not making it to Tokyo because I should have been doing everything differently for longer than I've been doing it."

"Noya-san, you can't give up! If even you're giving up…"

You reach out and bap him gently with your pencil before you even think about it. "Pick your head up. You're not gonna fail."

He picks his head up and—holy shit, there's actual tears in his eyes. "[name]-san?"

"I'm not wasting your time, you're not wasting mine. You—both of you—are making it through finals and you're going to Tokyo." You lean back, flip both their notebooks closed. "And feelings like that are a really good sign that you're working too hard. Break time. We're all three gonna get something unhealthy with too much sugar to snack on and not think about exams for at least twenty minutes. Any questions?"

"Will you marry me?"

"Aren't you supposed to, like, eat almonds or whatever for brain stuff? I think I remember hearing a girl in my class talk about that," Tanaka says, brushing right past proposal number ten.

You shake your head. "That's walnuts, I think.⁸ Technically, loading up on sugar right now isn't the number one best idea, diet-wise, but like, stress coping mechanisms, right? And it's not horrible. Your brain needs glucose for fuel, anyhow."

"Damn. You really know a lot."

You shrug. "Not really. I've just been reading a bunch of cookbooks and meal planning stuff recently. If I'm gonna do the whole manager thing, I'll need to get better at meal prepping in bulk. I have to handle the cooking in the house, so…"

Oh. That was the wrong thing to say.

Two sets of sparkling eyes lock onto you. "So you're gonna do it?"

"Oi, I didn't say—I'm thinking about it. Part of thinking about it includes figuring out how I would even make it work if I said yes."

"But you haven't come to a no, yet."

"No, I have not. I wouldn't bother showing up if I had settled on a no." The words have to be pulled out, a little bit. Even if they didn't catch it, the thought loops in your head—the wrong thing to say, they're gonna know and the way they look at you is going to change and—

Nishinoya hops to his feet. "We'll have to work even harder to convince you, then!"

Alright. Act normal. You snort. "You're certainly welcome to try. For now—you two, break. Is it alright if I use your bathroom?"

He offers a hand to help you up. You take it, let him pull you to your feet. "Yeah, of course. Down the hall, third door on your right."

You slip down the hall, escape into the restroom. Take a moment to breathe.

What are you doing here? No, really, what are you doing here? Sure, you're helping them out, fine, whatever, but…

You stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror for a moment. Grip the counter to steady yourself. There is no reason for you to be acting like this. No reason at all, and yet your heart is racing in a way that's sickening, breaths coming shallower than you'd like.

You should go home. Escape before this feeling escalates.

You should. You should do that.

Doubtless, you're gonna come out of the bathroom and they'll have piled up snacks for you, too, insisted you take some even though you didn't ask for any. You'll accept after some back-and-forth because it's only polite, even though you'd really rather them not waste food on you, and this… this will escalate. They'll notice something's wrong over the rest of the session, bring it up outright because they're refreshingly tactless, and then you'll end up metaphorically shoving them away because how and why would you even explain that you're suddenly wired for no fucking reason to two guys who are acquaintances at best? Chances are they'll blame themselves for fucking something up even though they've done nothing wrong, and—

Fucking hell, okay.

Inhale. Exhale. Again.

There you go, doing great.

Splash some water on your face, straighten out your clothes. Check your hair in the mirror. Adjust. Inhale again. Exhale again. Adjust again. Splash some more water on your face—

Fucking hell, [name]. Just get back out there. You only gave them twenty minutes for a break, and this isn't your house to have a breakdown in for some stupid reason. Pack it up for later.

Okay.

You open the door, slip back out into the hall, and conveniently run directly into a complete stranger, because that's how the last few minutes have been going for you I guess.

The stranger in question is a much older guy. Short. Has a sort of familiar-looking face and is inexplicably wearing a Hawaiian shirt. Old enough to have kids your dad's age. Synthesis: probably Nishinoya's grandfather.

"Oh! Um, s-sorry," you stammer, cringing at the way your voice pitches unnaturally. "I should have been looking where I was going, sir. Please pardon my intrusion!"⁹

The man laughs it off with a shake of his head. Yeah, he's some flavor of Nishinoya, for sure. "No need to get so worked up. You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"Oh, sorry, I'm fine—no ghosts here, I don't think."

"Good to hear! 'Sfar as I know, the only ghosts in this house stick to the second floor!"

You laugh, because you're pretty sure you're supposed to in response to that, and mentally scramble for some response to have here. "Um, I'm a friend of Nishinoya-senpai's. I should probably get back to—"

A firm pat on the shoulder. "Oh, you're Yuu's little friend? It's not often he brings a girl home!"

You will bet your father's life savings that Nishinoya has never brought a girl home, but you'll bite your tongue on that one. Instead, another laugh, this one more nervous than the last, bubbles out of you. "Oh, I'm just helping him and Tanaka-senpai study, that's all."

"Good, good. And he's being nice?"

"Of course! He's very nice. Excitable, maybe, but nothing I can't handle."

God, you really do sound nervous. Whatever's messed you up in the past ten minutes is something you need to shake ASAP. If anything has, anyway. Maybe you just need a new brain entirely to fix this one.

He's still laughing. It's strange. "That's the spirit. He ask you out yet?"

…he is actively trying to set you up with Nishinoya right now. Horrifying.

"Oh, no, sir, we're just friends." Well, 'friends' is a strong word, but you are in his house right now, so…

"Hey, don't discount the possibility! Yuu needs a girl around who can handle him."

You resist the urge to drop your head into your hands. He pats your shoulder one last time before moving past you, down the hall. "And no 'sir' around here! You stay friends with Yuu, you call me Jii-chan, yeah?"

"Yes, sir!"

He opens a door down the hall, allowing what appears to have been a giant sentient fluffball to race past your feet, a sound like a mrrp almost lost beneath your yelp. The fluff disappears as fast as it appeared, already lost to your vision.

You escape while you can, slump into your seat at the table. Definitely a Nishinoya.

And speaking of Nishinoyas, your Nishinoya laughs, sliding a bag of chips across the table at you. Tanaka is nowhere in sight—perhaps having run to some other bathroom while you were busy staving off a breakdown in the closest one. "Sorry. That sounded like Jii-chan caught you."

You shake your head, take a moment to catch your breath. That did not help, not in the slightest, and neither are the chips or the bottle of soda you've just been given. "No, don't worry about it. The snacks or any of it. I'm fine."

Silence. You peek at him to find that he's just staring at you, this unimpressed look in his eye like he's completely seen through you in an instant. Probably because he has.

"Are you okay?" he tries, voice dropping into this weird gentle tone like he's coaxing a frightened animal. You sort of feel like that fits, honestly.

"Fine."

"Really? You look like you're having an anxiety attack."

"You know," you say, gripping the bottle of soda he's given you in hopes that the cold will do something to you, "every now and then you say things that are like, weirdly aware and it doesn't really gel with your whole, rush in headfirst, don't think about it, cool-guy image. Why do you even know what an anxiety attack looks like?"

His posture straightens a bit, offense flashing across his features. Shit. The offense ebbs away fast enough, before he even speaks, but you saw it and the damage is done and— "Nee-san gets them a lot. I'm usually not the one to help her through them, but I at least know what one looks like. Did something happen?"

"Your sister? The one who told me to get you arrested?"

"Nah, different sister. I've got three. You're avoiding the question."

"There's—not really any point in pressing it, honestly. Nothing happened, I don't know why I suddenly feel like I'm about to die, I just do. It just happens sometimes, and it'll probably fade once I lock myself in a dark room for an hour or something."

He nods firmly, stands back up. "Wait here a second."

You wait, namely because you have nothing better to do, and fidget with the soda bottle you've been given. He returns quickly—you think he might've ran, based on how quickly his footsteps are coming, and then a wrapped popsicle is being thrust in your face. "Here!"

"Um…?"

"It helps Nee-san to eat something really cold. She usually just gets an ice cube, but this way it's more like you're just snacking, right?"

You look between him and the popsicle a moment. Accept it tentatively. "…you know, every time you feed me I feel worse about it. I'm not nearly as good of a person as you think I am."

"I'm not feeding you because you're a good person. I'm feeding you because you're helping us, I like you, and you're having an anxiety attack."

"Do you revoke the food if I calm down?" you ask as you unwrap it with shaking hands.

"Yeah, sorry. Better eat quick before you chill out."

You huff. "What, am I supposed to bite it to get the effect of eating ice or something?"

"How else do you eat popsicles?"

You level a half-horrified look at him. "What do you mean, how else do you—do you bite your popsicles?"

Tanaka appears in the hallway, nodding solemnly as he rejoins you. "He does. You didn't notice the other day?"

"No! Why the hell are you biting popsicles?"

"It helps with anxiety!" Nishinoya proclaims.

You bite off a chunk, wincing at the cold on your teeth. Honestly, you were already feeling better from the sheer fuckery of Nishinoya apparently chewing his popsicles for sport, but it does help. "First of all, I have no indication that you've ever felt anxious in your life, second of all, that is unhinged behavior."

"Will you still marry me if I eat popsicles with all my teeth?"

"No!!!"

Tanaka bursts into laughter. Nishinoya flops dramatically. "But [name]-saaaaaaan—"

"Eat your popsicles like a normal human being, you freak!"

"I do!"

"I once watched him eat one of those in two bites," Tanaka supplies helpfully. "It's sort of amazing to watch, like a snake on the nature channel swallowing a rat whole or something."

"Two bites? Nishinoya!"

"What can I do to make it up to you?" he pouts up at you from where he's dramatically flopped onto the floor. "What can I do to make up for this transgression?"

"Tell me that popsicles are the only food you eat like that." You lick the popsicle properly. You can't keep up with it the way he seems to think is normal.

Silence. Tanaka quietly raises a hand.

"The other day he unhinged his jaw and swallowed a nikuman whole. Also like watching a snake eat a rat."

"Ryuu, you are not helping!"

"I feel like the more I learn about you, the less I understand."

He waggles his eyebrows up at you suggestively. It'd probably be a lot more effective if he weren't laying on the floor with a bag of chips in hand. "But you're curious?"

"Morbidly, maybe." Your popsicle is melting already, and honestly, you're not sure you can manage this whole thing. "…can you really eat one of these in two bites?"

"I do! Frequently!"

"You know it probably tastes better if you actually let yourself enjoy it, right?"

"Mm, that sounds fake."

"Well, here. Either way, finish this before I get soda-flavored water all over your tatami." You thrust out the popsicle to him. He pops up on his elbows, eats it right off the stick without even taking it from your hand.

Fucking hell. He actually ate it in two bites.

"…and thanks, by the way. I do feel better. Mostly."

He sits up. Tosses a chip at Tanaka, who effortlessly catches it in his mouth. "Mostly? Wanna talk about it?"

You don't particularly want to, but you don't not want to, so you might as well.

And that's just it, isn't it? How many times are you going to go down the road of "no reason to say no"? When do you just get to say yes because you want to? When do you ever want to?

Your sigh comes out more aggravated than you'd like it to. "I say yes when I don't have any logic strong enough to justify saying no. It's stupid and frustrating and I'm starting to really hate myself for it. Right now, my 'no' for 'join the volleyball club' is that it feels like I'm taking advantage of you guys if I just join because I have nothing better to do and don't really wanna go home if I don't have to. I'm sure you two will probably say something like, 'oh, no, you're not taking advantage of us, we want you here!' which is all sweet and all, but I've said some variation of sure, why not like five hundred times this week and it's actually stressing me out so getting rid of a lukewarm no doesn't really help me at all."

Nishinoya blinks. Glances to Tanaka. Tilts his head. "So right now you don't want to join because you don't have a good enough reason to?"

"Kind of?" You rest your chin in your hand, absently reach for a chip. "More like I don't want to join just because I don't have a reason not to. I'm not making sense."

Tanaka crosses his arm, racking his brain for… something. "So… you're just looking for a good reason to join, then?"

"I guess?"

Nishinoya hums thoughtfully. "How has it been coming to the practices? You liked watching the practice match and stuff, right?"

"I… guess? I didn't mind it."

"You don't get super excited over anything, do you?"

A shrug. "Not really. I probably used to, but it's been a minute."

"But you've definitely seemed a little happier since you started coming to practices."

You raise an eyebrow. "Not beating the stalker allegations, Senpai."

He reaches across the table to bat at your arm playfully. "I'm being serious! Even before you got around to introducing yourself, I thought you looked kinda sad."

You've half a mind to be offended, and Tanaka seems to agree that you should be based on the way his jaw drops at his words. "Noya-san, you can't just—"

"It's fine. Really, I was going for more of a 'detached and cool' vibe, so it's good to know that I'm missing the mark."

"Detached and lonely, maybe."

You push a chip around the opening of your bag with a fingertip. Anything to not have to keep looking at these guys. "Yachi-san said the same thing. So that's why you keep talking to me and stuff?"

"I'm talking to you because I like you. That's not the point. The point is, you're not like that at practice. Kiyoko-san smiles when she talks to you and Yachi-san, and you keep smiling and laughing at practice. You smile a lot when I ask you to marry me, too. I sort of get the impression that you don't do a lot of that the rest of the time."

Your eyes flick to Tanaka. He nods in reluctant agreement. "…I don't, no. So? I'm just not that smiley."

"But you smile when you're happy. So, if you're smiling and laughing and stuff when you're being our manager and hanging around us, and you're not the rest of the time, then you're happier around us. That's a good reason to go for it."

"…but I'm just there to waste time. Isn't that, like, rude? You guys are all so passionate. You're working super hard for this, literally pushing yourselves to burnout preparing for exams just so you don't have to miss one weekend of games that don't even count—they don't count, right?"

"They don't," Nishinoya confirms.

"I mean, you don't have to be a screaming lunatic to manage for us," Tanaka says from the hall, causing you to startle. "Kiyoko-san's plenty chill, and we've even got regulars on the team who aren't exactly fired up. I don't think anyone's asking you to act like Noya-san or Hinata."

Nishinoya nods. "Yeah, exactly! Having fun's a good reason. We're all fired up because volleyball's fun. No one else had to, like, convince us they had a good motive before joining. You definitely don't have to."

You take a long sip of your soda. This is… putting a new perspective on things that you're not sure how to make sense of. Do it because it's fun. Let yourself enjoy things now and then. And then the stupid marriage proposals. A running joke to make the lonely girl laugh. One that works. No ulterior motives you can sense.

"…do I really smile and stuff at practice?"

He nods again, more enthusiastically. "You do! It's a really nice smile, too."

Despite yourself, a smile flicks to your lips.

"Yeah, like that!"

And that draws a laugh from you. "You're ridiculous."

"Will you marry me anyway?"

"Tanaka-senpai, I am so sorry. He's insufferable."

Tanaka laughs. "Don't be!"

Inhale. Exhale. Another long sip of your drink to think. You check the time on your phone. Break should be over soon…

"Alright. Notes out. Let's see what I can help you with. It'll be a pain to go all the way to Tokyo without you boys there."

"You're going!?"

"One good reason to say yes, that's all. Nine hundred and eighty-nine, by the way, don't think I haven't been keeping count."

They high-five each other, cheering. It takes another five minutes to get them back on track. It takes you twenty to lose the stupid smile on your face.

Chapter Text

04 - find reasons to say yes

Yachi yelps whenever you address her unexpectedly. And she's never expecting it, so she always yelps. It's cute in a skittish, scared-bunny sort of way.

This particular instance makes you laugh. "Did I do something to make you scared of me, or…?"

"N-no! What did you, um—what did you need?"

It's the first day that Hinata and Kageyama haven't come for Yachi since you got roped into this manager thing. Variously they have and haven't dragged you into studying, too, depending on the day. You guess Yachi's just more approachable, maybe, or maybe it's that Hinata is more drawn to someone who can match his energy. On the other hand, Kageyama seems to just be along for the ride more than anything, which you get. You gel with him a little better, at least. Yachi, though, you really do want to get to know, so you let your short-sightedness drag you into starting a conversation you haven't fully prepared for.

You toy with your hair idly. You're really not sure how to approach this. When was the last time you even tried? "Did you have a good weekend? I mean, I know we saw each other yesterday, but—you know. Did you?"

She visibly relaxes. You'd like to think your own pervasive awkwardness is putting her at ease. "Mm! Hinata and Kageyama-kun came over to study after practice."

"Oh, good! How're they coming along?"

"They're nervous, I think, but they've been working really hard!"

"Really? That's great!" Uh, fuck—you scramble for something else to say. "Nishinoya-senpai and Tanaka-senpai are working hard, too. I went to Nishinoya-senpai's to help them out Saturday, too."

"A-aren't they kinda scary?"

You wave a dismissive hand. "Not at all. They're more goofy, honestly."

"I think everyone's a little scary, still…" she sighs. "It's hard not to, you know?"

"Yeah, I get that. But trust me, they're just excitable." Okay, okay. That's good. You're getting somewhere. "Any ideas on the whole manager thing?"

She brightens, flashes a smile. "Yeah, actually! I talked to Hinata a little before he left and I think I've settled on my answer."

"That sounds like good news! Let's hear it."

"Well… two things, really. I borrowed Hinata and Kageyama-kun yesterday for this, but… I'm gonna join. I've been actually working on maybe making some donation posters? I, um, overheard Sensei talking to the coach the other day and it sounds like the club is kinda hurting for money so we can get buses and stuff…"

Shit. She's so much more put together than you are. You're gonna have to step it up if it's gonna matter that you're here at all. "Woah. That's really cool that you're doing that!" You hope your voice doesn't come out too strained.

"What about you, [surname]-chan?"

A nervous laugh. "Well, I haven't thought of doing anything cool to help the team yet, but I am starting to think maybe this whole exam deal was just a pretense to convince us to get on board. Nishinoya-senpai and Tanaka-senpai got me on Saturday, too."

"Wait, that's great! We'll be managing together, then. With Shimizu-senpai, too, of course!" Another sweet little smile.

You are somewhere between "protect this girl with your life" and "do everything possible to make sure this girl does not outshine you".

…this might be what it's like to have a sister.

"Yeah! I haven't given my application to Shimizu-senpai yet. You?"

"Nope! Honestly, I was a bit nervous to go looking for her by myself… there's no practice until after exams now, right?"

"Right. Pretty sure that's having the opposite effect, if these boys are anything to go by. I think Hinata might explode if he doesn't get enough exercise."

She laughs. "Yeah, I sort of get that impression. Do you wanna come with me to track down Shimizu-senpai so we can turn in our applications while we've got time?"

You agree easily enough, and so the two of you make your way to the first floor, where the third years have their classes. Admittedly, you have no idea where to begin looking for Shimizu beyond that. It takes most of the rest of lunch to find her, eventually spotting her in a random classroom. Really, it's the other volleyball club members you notice—the third years apparently eat lunches together from time to time, if not all the time. Asahi is much easier to spot than Shimizu is when you're skimming a room for any sight of her.

It's Sugawara that spots the two of you peeking into the room. He smiles at Shimizu, nods to the two of you. She's quick to greet you both at the classroom door.

"[name]-chan, Hitoka-chan! Did you need something?"

"Sorry to bother you, Senpai." You smile, dial up the charm. "We both wanted to talk to you about the volleyball club?"

"Oh?" Her eyes slide between you and Yachi with interest. "What is it?"

You nod to Yachi. She holds out her club application in two shaking hands. You hold out your own, a touch more casually. Not that it's hard to come off as casual standing next to Yachi. "W-we both decided to join, if that's alright!"

"Really!? That's great!" She takes both from you, eyes lighting up.

Man. No wonder Nishinoya and Tanaka are obsessed with her. She's got this like, gentle smile and shit.

"I'll get everything handled with the membership committee. Since there's no practice until after exams, that gives us more than enough time to get your jackets ordered. You included your jacket sizes in the applications, right?"

"Y-yes!" Yachi says.

You pat her shoulder reassuringly. "Breathe, Yachi-san."

"B-but we're on the third year's floor," she whispers back. "What if we're not supposed to be here?"

"It's fine. Whatever big scary thing happens, I got you."

"O-okay..."

"Thank you both so much. I'll get everything handled, you two just focus on exams, alright? You've both been helping the others study, too, right? How's that going?"

You share twin smiles with Yachi. "Good!" she chirps. "We both helped them over the weekend. [surname]-chan says that Nishinoya-san and Tanaka-san are doing well, and Hinata and Kageyama-kun were working really hard when I was with them."

"That's good. Those four are an important part of the team, so it'll be difficult if they don't get to come to the away games. Speaking of—if you both come find me after school today, we'll need to get you both to bring in permission slips for that."

Oh.

You're so fucked.

~

Okay, cool, fine, no big deal. You have a blank permission slip and a father who's never home to sign it. This is doable. This is a clear issue, and a clear issue is something that can be solved.

You walk home separately of Yachi—after you'd offered to help put up the posters when they're ready, she ran into friends and you don't want to intrude, so you take your blank permission slip and meander out of the school. You guess you'll scratch out some time to study, to freeze some meals, to… something.

Fuck. You really wish practices weren't on hold for exams.

It's not long after you've made your way out of the gate that that swoopy feeling of your feet no longer touching the ground hits you. You shriek at the arms around your waist, wriggle in the hold of your captor—

—who sets you down with his trademark blinding grin. "Hi," Nishinoya says. "That was a good noise!"

You steady yourself, hand (and now-crumpled permission slip) held to your chest. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I missed you today! It's weird not having practice."

"So you scare the shit out of me!?"

He laughs. "Sorry, sorry."

"You never really sound sorry when you apologize to me," you grumble.

"To be fair, I did call your name when I saw you. You're the one with your head in the clouds. What're you up to? Any plans with all your newfound free time?"

"Cooking dinner. I have food on the slow cooker I need to get to. And then I'm going to study. You know, that thing we're supposed to be doing with all the extra time from not being allowed to do clubs for a week?"

"Hm, that sounds like something schools made up or something. Boring."

"Uh-huh. You know, I'm not gonna marry you if you fail all your exams."

"But you will if I pass at least one?"

"Are you gonna pass any? Believing that studying is a thing people do isn't even step one. It's like, step zero."

"Study with me, then."

He flashes that charming little smile, and you shove him away. "I can't come over. The last thing I need is to burn my house down because I left dinner on the slow cooker too long and it like, blew up or something."¹¹

"So let me come over. We'll study together, I'll be good and quiet and not interrupt your precious brain training time…"

You sigh. "I'm not exactly prepared to entertain guests."

"You don't have to entertain me!"

"The house is a mess."

"So's my bedroom. You live there, what's the problem with it looking like you live there?" He keeps easy pace beside you as you walk.

"It's rude! You're not supposed to show guests a messy home when they come over."

"But you weren't expecting me. So it's not like it's your fault."

"Why are you so set on coming over to my house, anyway?"

"Curiosity. What's wrong with that?"

"I literally don't even have snacks to give you."

Without another word, he grabs your shoulder and steers you off to the side—straight to Sakanoshita. "I'm so glad you brought that up! I can treat you!"

"I think you're fundamentally misunderstanding the role a host and a guest are supposed to play."

"I'm being a friend. Friends buy each other stuff sometimes. Lemme buy you snacks. I'm horrible at remembering to do breaks and then once I actually take one I end up done for the night."

You stop in your tracks, don't let him drag you inside. "What are you doing right now?"

"Hm?" He tilts his head. "Getting rid of your reasons to say no. Why?"

…oh. That's almost sweet.

"…if you're going to insist on this, I can solve the reason for saying 'no' to going over to your house. Let's find a reason to say yes to that instead…?"

He seems to sense your discomfort, the way it seeps into your shoulders but refuses to reach your voice. There's a moment where he just looks at you, blinking, that sort of blank look that a puppy gets before it does the stupidest thing you've ever seen in your life. "Oh! That's easy. Because you want to."

You raise an eyebrow. "Do I?"

"Don't you? We're celebrating since you're joining the team! And you said before that I didn't know enough about you to be in love with you. So I need to get to know you, right? And you should get to know me. There's a yes for letting me buy snacks for you, and a yes for hanging out with me."

"If my end goal were to marry you, maybe."

He pulls you inside, not missing a beat. "I'm not giving up, so it'd be a good idea to start adjusting to the idea now."

You roll your eyes. Smile and wave to Coach Ukai, who's got one foot up on the counter, lit cigarette in hand as you enter. He nods back, raising an eyebrow at the pair of you. "Good day at school, you two?"

"He has too much energy. Please tell the school that their decision to suspend club activities during exam week is going to kill me, personally, Coach," you deadpan. Nishinoya doesn't miss a beat, dragging you towards one of the aisles.

"I'll see what I can do."

Over chips, Nishinoya talks a mile a minute and too loudly, picking up too many bags of chips as he does. "Pick something. I'm buying. What's your solution to not burning your house down?"

"I'm just going to run by my place and make sure nothing is going to burn before coming over."

"I could walk with you?"

"No," you reply, too quickly. You wince a little, try to recover. "I mean, you're grabbing a lot of snacks to carry, and I'll be quick, so…"

He watches you carefully a moment, but simply adds another snack bag of chips to his armful instead of commenting on it.

"And put some of those chips away. We're getting snacks, my dinner is already mostly done and I'm sure your family has food planned."

He pouts. He's gathered a whole armful of chip bags. "You haven't even picked out yours, yet."

"I'm not picking any if you don't put those back and get a reasonable amount of chips."

"Fiiine."

He puts back most of the bags of chips, and you straighten up the display while you mull over two flavors. Once you've settled, you grab one bag.

"Great! You wanna go grab drinks? My hands are a little full."

"Sure, sure, what do you want?"

He tells you what to grab, and you meander off. As he pays, you say: "You know I'm not gonna let you buy things for me all the time, right?"

"Tell me not to, and I won't," he replies, not missing a beat.

You say nothing. On your way out the door, you dip your head to Coach Ukai and let Nishinoya drag you along for what's sure to be a very productive study session.

~

You do actually end up studying. It takes you only a little work to corral Nishinoya into focusing. He sits across from you in his living room, focusing hard on his flashcards with this really intense look. It's laughably easy to tell how well his study session is going; every now and then, you'll notice him grimace in annoyance after flipping a card, or else brighten up a little.

For your part, you work through practice problems diligently, only glancing up every now and then to observe your upperclassman and make sure he's still working.

It's peaceful. Nice. After a solid half an hour of quiet that you didn't know he was capable of, you stretch, ready to enforce a break, and are interrupted by something fluffy careening into your chest and borderline knocking you over. Aside from the force, it announces itself with the purriest meow you've ever heard, nearly lost—like before, you recall dimly—by your startled yelp.

Nishinoya catches the sight of you—now clutching a fluffy, bob-tailed calico to your chest as it presses its face into yours. "Oh, by the way. I have a cat," he says.

You ignore him entirely. "Oh my gosh, hi baby!"

"This is Soba.¹² She hates strangers, so I can only assume that the fact that she already loves you is a sign that you now have to marry me."

"Not if you don't ask me enough times, I don't—" Soba meows at you, snuggles into your pets with the sweetest little look on her face. Now that she's not scaring the shit out of you, you can properly look her over and zero in on her white-tipped paws. "—she has socks?"

He laughs softly, nodding. "She has socks."

"Amazing. The best cats have socks. Especially toe socks." You shoot him an amused look. "Didn't really take you for a cat guy, though."

"Does being a cat guy earn me bonus points?"

"It gives me an eternal yes to coming over." Soba wriggles out of your arms, only to curl up in your lap. "How are you not constantly covered in cat hair? She's so cuddly!"

"I'm careful and know what a lint roller is," he jokes. "Technically, she's my sister's, but… I mean, she likes me best, so…"

"I think I love her?"

"Marry me, then, and you get partial custody."

"Ask me nine hundred and eighty four more times and give me unlimited cat access and I'll think about it."

"Deal."

"That aside, how's your studying coming along? I think I heard you swearing under your breath earlier."

He groans. "It's... it's coming along."

"What're you working on? Kanji drills?"

"Yeah... Trying to get everything hammered out before tomorrow. I need exams to be over already..."

"They'll end when they end. I'm so sorry, but you're just gonna have to stick them out. How's your brain doing? I think I smell smoke."

"Without exaggeration, I am going to explode if I do not do something with my body right now."

"See, but this is really unfortunate," you say. "I was gonna ask you to teach me a little volleyball in our break time, but I'm pretty sure moving this baby would be considered a war crime in seventy-three countries, so…"

"You want me to!?" He springs forward, flashcards forgotten. "Really!?"

"Well, your super cool libero skills would be helpful to have on deck so poor Yachi-san's head doesn't get taken off by a stray ball. Unfortunately, until this little cuddle bug leaves, that's not happening."

"…marry me, though?"

"Nine hundred eighty-three. Work hard until the next break and maybe the baby will—"

"Soba! Pspsps."

Soba perks up. Yawns. Crawls right off of you to sniff at Nishinoya's hand. He beams at you. "So, you want me to teach you to receive?"

You smile. Tighten the caps on your and his sodas as a cat prevention measure. "You sure it's a good idea to leave your snacks unattended with the baby around?"

"The baby can't open bag clips," he replies triumphantly, having produced one from seemingly nowhere and clipped both of your chip bags together.

You elect not to mention that any cat is going to have teeth strong enough to rip open the rest of the bag and let him pull you outside without another word.

~

So the rest of the study session is spent like that: long work session involving a purring cat on either your lap or his, fifteen minutes or so of him—badly—trying to explain receiving to you. It's clear he knows what he's doing and what he's talking about, but what isn't so clear is what the hell he means by things like you just gotta bump it like fwah, you know?. Still, you try your best, and breaks turn into passing the ball back and forth—him with ease, you frequently running to pick up a ball you dropped.

"Now you've got it!" Nishinoya cheers after you barely manage to not let the ball hit the ground on one of these sessions. "At this rate, you'll be playing libero for the girls' team before you know it!"

You snort. "Uh, yeah, hard pass."

"Why not? Volleyball's fun, you know."

"I'm sure it is. But A, I suck at it. And B, I'm sort of already in a club. I can't imagine I'd be a very effective player on the team if I'm instead going to all of your practices. And I'd definitely make a bad manager if I'm always going to their practices instead of yours."

"Fine, fine, I concede that it might be a little hard."

"Harder than I'm willing to bother with."

He laughs. You fail another few passes before the break is over, and then you're back inside, back to math and English and kanji and test-taking strategies.

"This is the last one, I think," you say as you settle back in at your seat. "I need to actually eat my dinner at some point, and it's getting late."

"Aw, you don't wanna stay for dinner?" He bats his eyelids at you playfully. You consider hitting him.

"My dinner is already ready, Nishinoya-senpai. No."

You fall back into studying, one last time. You're actually impressed with him—the regular breaks are definitely helping, and making sure they're active has smoothed out his jumpier edges. They were probably a bit more active than he expected, honestly—you're very bad at returning the ball, and he ended up having to dive for most of the ones you actually managed to get back in his general direction. But he's been working hard when he's back at the table, like he's taking this seriously seriously. It's refreshing.

It is with no small horror that you admit to yourself that you could actually get a crush on this guy if he were serious and you let yourself. Luckily, there's a solution to that, one you only have to do half the work for: he stays unserious about you (easy—he isn't serious and never will be) and you don't let yourself develop anything. You're great at not feeling emotions. It's like, your one big talent in life.

So when you bid him goodnight at his doorstep, you smile and wave. He waits in the doorway, reaches out to you before you go. "Wait. [name]-san."

"Mm?"

"For good luck—will you marry me?"

You laugh. Shake your head. "Give it your best, ask another nine hundred and eighty-two times, and I'll think about it, Senpai. But, just so you know, I've seen how hard you've been working, and I don't think you need the luck."

His smile is blinding when you turn to leave.

You turn down the street towards your house, smooth yourself out. The walk is brief, the house empty and quiet like always when you unlock the front door. In contrast to the warmth of his living room, it feels lonelier than ever.

You kick off your shoes, take your dinner to your own living room. Rifle around in your bag for your notebook and instead find a bag of chips—the flavor you'd set aside at the store earlier, deciding to only go with one bag and not burden Nishinoya—with a little note taped to it.

Good luck on your exams!

PS.; you can call me Noya-senpai. it's what my friends call me ;)

Fuck. You really could develop a crush if you're not careful. He's scribbled out his phone number on the note. Despite yourself, you smile and send him a text.

Chapter Text

05 - hide behind whatever you can

Exam week drags on. You wonder a million times over the course of the week whether you made the right decision in joining, whether it's a good idea to even keep talking to Noya. He's nice, whatever his intentions are don't seem malicious, but the problem with having friends who insist on knowing you is that at some point he's going to want to actually know you. And now he has your number, which he's using liberally.

Each morning the week of exams, you get a text: good morning! Please marry me!. Even though he doesn't track you down before school, though it'd be easy, he goes out of his way to say that much to you and leaves you alone unless you reach out to him first.

And you, lonely in the afternoons like you always are, always reach out.

[name] to Noya at 16:15

Today 16:15
[name]: I don't think I'm allowed to bully you for the popsicle thing anymore
Noya: oh PLEASE tell
[name]: [image attached. Image description: a bowl of cooked white rice with what appears to be a handful of crushed potato chips piled on top.]
[name]: this is what the 4pm dinner of CHAMPIONS looks like. I should go to culinary school
Noya: oh yeah there's no way I'm letting you bully me for the popsicles ever again
Noya: why are you eating dinner at 4pm???
[name]: bored
Noya: come over then. I own at least one video game
[name]: no I have this luscious spread of food
[name]: I worked so hard to put rice in the rice cooker and then ruin it with spicy potato chips
[name]: how do you know I even care about video games???
Noya: you called volleyball *pvp don't let the ball touch the floor*
Noya: *pvp*
Noya: that's gamer words, [name]-san
[name]: …I can’t believe this
Noya: don't you wanna see Soba and her toe socks? :(
Noya: she's pacing around the house
Noya: she misses you already
[name]: …fine alright I'll come over when I'm done eating my Sad Rice Surprise GOD
[name]: bribing me with a cat.
[name]: unbelievable.

You only come over twice that week, but the rest of the time is interspersed with stupid jokes, cursed dinners you just threw together, and idle chatter just to keep your brain off of how quiet your house is. Once while you're making dinner, he calls, which forces you to make a real dinner instead of doing fucked up shit to a bowl of rice.

The entire time, he asks questions. They're half-prying, you think, little things like what are your hobbies and do you like to cook?

"I don't, really," you admit, stirring a pot absently. "I like all the individual actions, and I like making a meal come together, but I don't like putting in all this effort if I'm the only one eating it. Food only tastes good if someone else gets to eat it, you know?"

"But you get to eat it. And what about your dad?"

Silence stretches between you as you look for a reply. "He usually gets convenience store bentos instead of eating my food. I guess I'm probably not that good at cooking, haha!" That's great. Saying haha out loud is super convincing.

"That can't be right. You sent me a picture of your dinner earlier this week that looked like some real gourmet shit."

"What, the plain white rice topped with hot chips? Or the fried rice that I overseasoned?"

"Yeah!" He pauses. "If you bring me some at school, then someone else gets to eat it, right?"

"…are you just trying to get me to cook for you?"

"Guilty." You can hear him smile over the phone.

Still, it's… not a bad idea. "Fine. Lunch tomorrow after exams?"

"Deal! I'll come pick you up."

You smile, fall back into easy chatter as you add some spices to the pot. "Then I'll see you tomorrow."

~

As the final final exam closes and you are all dismissed for a short lunch, Yachi scrambles to grab a folder from her bag and approach you. She drops the folder on your desk, closed, her eyes alight with excitement as she speaks.

"I picked these up from the print shop last night!" she says. "Are you free to put them up with me after school? Or tomorrow, maybe?"

"Oh, shoot, the posters? Let me see!"

She grins, opens the folder to show you what she settled on, and shit. They're super fucking professional-looking. They barely look like a high schooler was involved at any stage of the process. The lights of the volleyball gym shine a halo around Hinata's form. He's at the peak of his jump, preparing to spike. The words, The Crows return to the national skies once again and Return of the "Little Giant" frame him, a neat little box at the bottom including information about the request for donations and how to contact Takeda-sensei about donating to cap it off.

"What the hell, Yachi-san?" you breathe. "These are amazing. You made these?"

They're… really amazing.

You swallow down the lump in your throat. What have you done for the club? It's not like you're gonna be able to take credit for helping put them up. You wouldn't, anyway—all that's gonna entail is going around a couple shops and handing them out to willing shopkeepers. Hardly anything like this.

"You know how I said my mom runs a design company?" She rubs the back of her neck. "She's taught me a little here and there. Honestly, my first draft was no good at all, so she helped me think about it a little more, but…"

"But you made them," you finish. "You're amazing."

She goes fully red at that. "Eh? Um, n-no, that's not…"

"Woah," Noya breathes from behind you.

You yelp, jerk away from him. "Dude, you can't just—"

He laughs softly, eyes trained on the poster Yachi's shown you. "These are amazing!"

Yachi shifts nervously, avoiding both your eyes. "Um, thank you both."

"These are for the volleyball club?"

"All Yachi-san's doing. I'm gonna help her put them up… you said after school today, right?"

She nods, wringing her hands together. "Only if you're not busy."

"Not at all. Let's do it."

"Oh! Great!" She glances at Noya. "Um, Nishinoya-san, you came to steal [surname]-chan away, I'm guessing?"

He nods, beaming. "Someone promised me."

You laugh. "Right, right. Yachi-san, we'll talk later?"

She nods, and Noya barely lets you grab your bag before he's dragging you out of the classroom. He speaks brightly as he pulls you along—apparently towards the roof. The rainy season isn't quite over yet, but it's close enough and sunny out, so you'll let him have this. "Those posters Yachi-san made really do look professional. We're gonna look so cool with those!"

"Yeah." It comes out perhaps more bitterly than you'd meant for it to—you're not bitter, really. Really.

He pauses. Eyes you. "You okay?"

"Yeah, sorry. It's the last day of exams and I'm just a little exhausted, that's all."

The look on his face says he doesn't believe you, but he can't press it if you don't let him. You force a smile, pick up your pace so you're dragging him along. "Come on. You wanna try my cooking, right?"

~

His first bite of your food earns you another marriage proposal, thoughtless and breezy. You can't help but notice, as you sit and share lunches, that Noya isn't how he usually is—not quite as bright, not quite as high-energy.

Maybe you should ask him what's wrong. Then again, you don't really deserve to ask about it when you won't tell him anything real about yourself.

You push the last bite of food around your bento before sliding it to him. "Here. You get the last of it."

"Really? Thanks!" He snaps it up and talks with his mouth full once he has. "You really are a good cook, you know."

"Thanks."

"You're sounding all down again. What's up with you?"

"What's up with you? You're the one who's acting all like… normal-key."

"Normal-key."

"Yeah. You're normally high-key. Right now you're acting like a normal person. It's weird."

He sighs. "You actually noticed?"

"Of course I did. What's up?"

"That last exam kicked my ass. I don't think I'm going to Tokyo."

"What? Of course you are."

"I don't believe you," he grumbles. "I think it's cruel and unusual punishment to make us do all the exams back-to-back. Of course my brain was gonna shut down by the end."

"Why do you think you're gonna fail?"

"I'm not cut out for this! I was able to sort of focus with someone there to keep me on track, but the rest of the time I just get distracted and—and even during the stupid test it's like my brain just refuses to focus on that stuff!" He tosses his hands out in frustration.

You reach forward, pat his arm reassuringly. "You've been working hard. Did you finish the exam?"

"Barely. I didn't get to finish checking over my answers like you told me to, but the half I was able to check seemed alright when I could actually get my brain on them."

"Half is passing. More than passing, actually. You and Tanaka-senpai have both been working really hard, you know? And I was there for enough of it that I can say for certain—you're a smart guy. You're gonna be fine."

"[name]-san…"

You pull back, only for him to catch your wrist.

"Will you still marry me even if I fail my exams?"

"You're not going to fail. But yes, if you ask me nine hundred and seventy-five more times, I'll think about it."

"Yes! Okay, so, that aside—what's up with you, really? Don't think I didn't notice you trying to deflect earlier."

"See?" you grin as the warning bell for the end of lunch sounds. "Smart."

You do not let him wriggle an answer out of you. Today, you escape with your life.

~

Yachi seems to blossom as your outing together stretches on. Some shops, you enter together, always the same script: Hi! We're managers for the Karasuno volleyball club and the club is currently looking for donations to fund us as we work towards Nationals. Would it be okay if we left this poster with you to hang up?

Invariably, the answers are positive, especially after seeing the posters. On occasion, the two of you will split up, one of you taking the establishments next to or across the street from one another, but every time you enter together, you can tell how much more confident she is already.

This is good for her.

The constant compliments on her professional-level work bolster her. The good response to the poster-hanging requests has her shoulders relaxing more and more. You think that, probably, once she gets used to manager stuff, it'll be second nature to her. She'll grow into this role beautifully, and by her third year she'll probably be just as ethereal as Shimizu is to you now.

You keep your charming little smile on your face and speak politely as you distribute posters. By the time it's getting late enough to think about dinner, you're basically done. You briefly consider asking if she wants to grab dinner at one of the places nearby, since you're already in town, but instead you walk her to the bus with that same strained smile.

"Thank you so much for your help! I don't think I could have gotten all those handed out without you."

You laugh, shake your head. "Nah, you would've been fine. You're a natural at this stuff."

"What? B-but I was completely falling apart at the start there. If I didn't have you to work off of, I would never have been able to get the words out right and probably would have totally gotten shut down."

"Uh, not once they actually looked at the posters. Did you hear any of those shopkeepers talking about them? I'm telling you, they're amazing. You probably didn't even need to say anything and they would've put them up anyway."

She rubs the back of her neck, cheeks red. Of course she has to be cute, too. She's done all this cool stuff, and you haven't even gotten a fucking permission slip signed.

"I-it's sort of amazing hearing you praise me so highly," she admits. "I mean, you never seem to try really hard at anything, but you just get it."

You blink. "Uh, no. I'm—trying a lot harder than I'd like to admit. It's probably the reason I don't have the energy to get excited about anything. I use it all trying to do stuff well and hiding the fact that I'm trying."

"What? But, you're so cool, though! I mean, you've got Nishinoya-senpai head over heels for you! And you've probably got it together better than anyone else I know! I mean, during practices you're always saving me from getting hit and stuff and I can barely react at all until I would've already been hit… I think you're probably way better at this than me. And you're already starting to get everything with volleyball, right? You follow along way better than I do during practice."

You shrug. "That's just because Noya-senpai took the time to explain it to me. We could always sit down and compare notes over lunch or something so we both understand it better, now that we're not tutoring?"

She smiles, nods. The bus arrives, and you wave her off, turning to make the trek back to your house in silence.

You'll probably quit once she's confident enough to stand on her own. At least they'll have a good manager to rely on.

~

You survive the weekend the way you always do, but suddenly, it's intolerable. You pace restlessly around the house for the first few hours alone, and then put on shoes and go running, half-expecting Noya to materialize out of nowhere to run with you. But he doesn't.

You've given yourself until Monday to get a signed permission slip for the Tokyo games.

There's a chance that your father comes home this weekend, so you spend most of the weekend pacing and hoping he will, permission slip in hand. It takes hours, too many, until you're once again waking up on the couch to find him standing in the doorway, hurt in his eyes.

"Can you sign my permission slip?" you ask in lieu of a real greeting. "It's for some away games for the volleyball club. We're going to Tokyo."

"Tokyo? Wait, volleyball club?"

You raise up the paper. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure it's blanket permission for later games and stuff, too. But, you know, you said it was a good idea the other day, so it'd be nice if I could actually participate." The lie doesn't even taste bad in your mouth.

"Oh, right. When did I say that?"

"When you gave me the debit card for groceries? What, were you just completely ignoring me?"

"I'm sorry," he says. He sounds like he means it. "Here, I'll sign it. Tell me about your volleyball club. Are you playing, or…" He takes the paper from you, scribbles on the appropriate lines.

"Managing for the boys' team."

"Really?" he raises an eyebrow. "Those boys nice?"

The surge of temper startles even you. "Yeah, 'too-san, they're really nice."

"I see," he says, and that's it. No more prying, no weird protectiveness you've always hated the idea of but seem to want to hear now, no questions. Just I see and a signed permission slip. Just easy lies.

That night, during the short period in which you're out of your mind, you reach for your phone.

[name] to Noya at 01:37

[name]: if this is stupid please ignore it

[name]: but when you see this can I have a picture of sobas toe beans?

[name]: its important

~

Noya to [name] at 06:12

Noya: [image attached. Image description: the underside of Soba the cat's front paw. One toe bean is black, while the rest are pink.]

Noya: [image attached. Image description: the same cat paw, except a single fingertip is pressing into it from off-camera. The paw pad squishes around the fingertip.]

Noya: wanna talk about it?

[name]: would it be completely impossible for you to believe I just wanted to see her beans at one in the morning?

[name]: they're good beans, senpai

Noya: you're right, they ARE good beans

~

He meets you as he usually does. On the way to practice that morning, he doesn't press about the night's bean request, simply chats you up like everything's the same as it has been. You fire back as best as you can manage, but your mood just won't seem to lift.

Morning passes like normal, and classes drag on. It feels a little pointless to be in classes right after finals like this when the term ends in a couple of weeks, but a lot of things feel a little pointless. You get used to it. Lunch, you consider talking to Yachi, but she's busy talking to her friends, so you pick over your food alone, staring out the window.

And then there's afternoon practice.

Though one or two guys complain about the heat, Daichi insists, and so everyone's wearing their jackets for your and Yachi's official induction. They display the backs proudly as Shimizu dispenses a club jacket of your own to each of you, shout a welcome that would have scared you shitless a few short weeks ago.

You look at the back of your new jacket, the white Karasuno High School Volleyball Club embroidered there, stark against the black. Bow. Give them the polite "I look forward to working with you!" and move on.

That night, walking home, Noya says: "Oh, right. I meant to ask this earlier, but I didn't want to ruin the moment."

"Dare I ask?"

"You were smiling really nice when you got your club jacket. Will you marry me?"

You pull the jacket in question tight around your shoulders and look away without answer.

Chapter Text

06 - it's good to have a project

It's a bit of a good news-bad news sandwich on test result day. Two rows ahead of you, you watch Yachi physically vibrate in her chair. It takes until she gets her exam back and she neither despairs nor sighs in visible relief that you connect that she's not worried about her own results.

Good news: you passed all your exams well enough. Your scores are more than comfortably high, not exactly topping the class but not embarrassing if someone were to catch sight of your paper. You've even got a few points over Yachi when you compare scores, a fact which makes you swell just a touch with pride.

That was the first set of good news.

The bad news comes when classes let out. You follow the dark aura and scent of despair out of the classroom with Yachi, and the source of her anxiety makes itself known: Tsukishima is openly laughing at Hinata and Kageyama while Yamaguchi is silently disappointed beside him. Hinata looks dead. Kageyama looks as grumpy as usual, if not a bit more so.

At the sight of both of you, Hinata visibly flinches. "Yachi-san… [surname]-san… How'd you do?"

"Fine," you shrug. "What's the damage?"

"One failed exam each," Yamaguchi says. "Hinata failed English, Kageyama Modern Lit."

"What!?" Yachi goes pale. "B-but—but we worked so hard on English! You were so confident!"

He refuses to meet her eyes. "I… I pleaded my case with Ono-sensei, but… I accidentally filled in the answers off by one and didn't realize until it was too late to fix it…"

"Oh, no. Let me see."

She looks over the test paper, looking closer to tears by the second. "But… Hinata… they're all correct… They would've been right…"

"I'm so sorry, Yachi-san… all your hard work went to waste…"

Tsukishima just laughs. "Looks like the king and the shrimp won't be coming with us to Tokyo after all. How sad."

"D-don't make fun of them!" Yachi cries. "They worked so hard for this!"

You nod to Kageyama. "Show me?"

As the others bicker, you look over Kageyama's paper. "So, what, you spent all your time focusing on the stuff you were already sort of good at and didn't spend any time on the other areas you'd be tested on?"

You don't get a response. When you look up, mysteriously both Hinata and Kageyama have disappeared.

A long sigh. "Which way did they go?"

Yamaguchi points down the hall. "I think they were headed towards the faculty floor."

"Got it. Hold this." You pass off Kageyama's test paper and march after them.

You find them—where else?—harassing the vice principal.¹⁴ Without a second thought, you've grabbed both by the necks of their uniforms and roughly pulled them back. "You're both acting stupid. Stop that."

"B-but [surname]-san—if he doesn't take it off—"

The VP looks increasingly distressed by the second. You shove your way between the two boys, press a hand firmly to each mouth. "I am so sorry, Sensei. They're a little stupid, but I promise they're good people. Just, uh, a bit panicking right now. I think they're asking if you'll make an exception for them for when they have to take their make-up exams so it doesn't conflict with club activities."

He clears his throat, adjusts his toupee. You pointedly avoid looking at it. "There will be no exceptions. What club is this that they're so worked up about? Volleyball?"

You bow your head. "Yes, sir. I understand. It's a shame, but—"

Kageyama struggles under your hand, whatever protest he has muffled. You smile at him coldly, pressing your hand against his mouth harder.

"—as I was saying, it's a shame, but we're just going to have to work hard together so you two do well on your makeup exams, right?"

The two nod reluctantly.

"I'm so sorry for the trouble, Sensei. It won't happen again. Are you two going to behave if I take my hands off your mouths?"

Two more reluctant nods. You remove your hands from their mouths, but keep them resting on their shoulders. "Now apologize for troubling him."

"We're sorry…"

You bow to him, drag the two off before they can protest or bother him any more than they already have. By the time you get them back to where you'd all been before they ran off, the other three haven't dispersed. Yachi is still despairing; Yamaguchi is looking over Kageyama's exam. Tsukishima apparently just doesn't have anywhere better to be.

"Why do they look like you just ripped them a new one?"

"I found them harassing the vice principal," you say.

"If he won't rescind it, then…"

You bap the back of his head. "Whatever's going on in your head, quit it. Use that energy to figure out how you're going to pass the retakes. Okay?"

"Right…"

"For now, pretty sure all of us need to get going. Practice and all that. And…" Fuck. Practice, where you'll hear from Tanaka and Nishinoya about their exam scores. You can't take any more bad news today. "…once we know the extent of the damage, we'll come up with a game plan after practice."

~

You step into the gym with a heavy heart. Hinata and Kageyama gave their news, sure, but you're genuinely sort of afraid for the news from Tanaka and Nishinoya.

No. They'll be fine. I mean, they were working so hard, and—

Still. Hinata and Kageyama worked hard. So—

The third step into the gym sees your breath leaving your lungs and your feet leaving the floor, a full tackle that you were neither expecting nor prepared for.

"[name]-san! I passed!"

The world spins around you—you yelp as you're fully spun and set back down, bracing yourself against an exuberant Noya. "Hello to you too—you what?"

"I passed!"

You blink, the realization taking a moment to sink in. Then, you're flinging your arms around his shoulders with a squeal, hugging him tight. "You passed! That's amazing! I told you you were gonna be fine!"

The noise that comes out of his mouth is stammery and stilted, and you pull away. "Uh, Senpai? You good?"

Ah. A forbidden red stains his cheeks as he collects himself. "Uh, yeah! Yeah, no, I—I'm good, uh—"

You arch a brow. "You're being weird."

"Not weird! Just—you know. Marry me."

You stifle a laugh, put a step or two of distance between you. "Keep working hard, ask another nine hundred and seventy-three times, and sure. I'll think about it."

~

The other bit of good news is that Tanaka also passed his exams. That leaves you with just Hinata and Kageyama to drill for the next week. As the other first years talk in Sakanoshita, you lock in, dutifully copying their exams by hand. Noya's here, too, as is Ennoshita—every now and then, someone tries to pull you into the conversation, but you're busy and they're just going to have to get that.

Yachi is in the middle of some heartfelt speech about how this must be the reason she's in the advanced courses and of course she'll help when you rip a page out of your notebook. She startles—quite comically—and you sort of feel bad for interrupting her as you hand a paper over to Hinata.

"Here."

"Here…?" He looks it over slowly.

You're already scribbling the same thing for Kageyama on the next page. "It's a list of focus points for studying and a suggested amount of time to spend studying on each topic. I based it on the composition of the original exam and what you got actually wrong, after re-grading your exam based on you marking answers correctly. Study lengths are based on a rough idea of how much free study time you actually have between now and the make-up exam, assuming a decent sleep schedule and going to bed early the night before your retake. Also, assuming you actually take regular breaks and only get sidetracked once or twice. If you have any questions you've got my number also. I can make some practice exams for you guys, but I need more time for that."

"[surname]-san…"

"Kageyama-san, if you'll hold for a little, I'm making up a list for you, too. They're personalized so I can't just give you both the same list. Also, you know, different subjects."

"This is amazing," Hinata breathes. "You did all that that fast?"

A shrug. "I was working through them in my head a little during practice, since I got to see your tests right after class let out."

"I'm not quite as good at studying, but I can help out, too," Yamaguchi offers.

"R-right, yeah, we'll all help out!" Yachi says. "I want to go to Tokyo with everyone, so, I mean, if [surname]-chan needs any support—"

"I'm not, like, supplanting you," you say mildly, not looking up from Kageyama's list. "Just giving direction. It'd actually be useful to have multiple of us working on helping out. I can't host for studying or anything, and these two tend to get distracted with proximity and are working on different subjects, so it's better that we split them up anyways."

"Oh, that makes sense! Then…"

"Who do we actually have to help?"

You glance up. Yamaguchi, Noya, Ennoshita, and Yachi are on board to help out. "Cool. We'll split up, then. Yachi-san, you're good with English. You take Hinata?"

She nods.

"Great. I'll handle Kageyama-san. As for the rest of you—"

"I'll help with Kageyama!" Noya interrupts, speaking quickly.

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, you would say that. You did do a good job with Modern Lit when you were focusing on it, anyway, though I think you're probably better at language learning in the long run."

Yamaguchi raises a reluctant hand. "Um, I could probably… help Hinata?"

Ennoshita glances between you and Noya, looking tired. "Are you able to handle Nishinoya?"

You scoff. "He's hardly an issue."

"Guys, I think that means she—"

"If he gets in the way, I'll go for the gut," you finish.

Noya freezes, looking at you like he's experiencing just the slightest twinge of fear. You smile sweetly, turn your attention back to the others. "In any case, if your only worry is whether I can corral this one and tutor Kageyama while actually being useful, go ahead and help out Hinata."

"Alright then. I'll help with Hinata."

So it becomes this again: you, getting rid of your time by tutoring another easily-frustrated volleyball guy. Noya makes it fun, you keep it on track, and you walk away from Sakanoshita that night with the promise given that you'll have practice exams ready for them as soon as possible.

"You can, like, sleep at some point, you know?" Ennoshita comments as you begin the slow walk home.

"Huh? I'm sleeping fine."

"You're just taking on a lot, aren't you?"

You shrug. "It's fine. I don't sleep a lot anyway."

And you don't: you're going to be up, sitting with your bedroom door cracked and the light off, listening out until you hear your dad's keys in the door, heart not slowing enough to sleep until you know he's home. You've got plenty of time between dinner and then, and it's more than enough to dig up a few practice exams and cobble them together into something closer to what the boys need.

It's better than your normal night. Better than cooking and cleaning until the house sparkles, better than studying until you give yourself a headache, better than moving to set down your pencil and remembering no words, just the disappointment that came with a bad report card, just the tragedy that followed.

Keep your grades up, keep him alive, keep vigilant.

And now: keep being useful for the team.

~

So you keep working hard. You earn another joking marriage proposal tying your shoes, still more at random, and get detailed reports from the others on how Hinata's doing and what areas it would be good to test him on. You lock in hard, determined to prove… something. That you're just as good as Miss Professional Posters, maybe. But the less-than-two weeks you get to get these boys ready for their retakes is used well enough. Lunch on the roof when the weather's good, Noya being serious in his aid as the two of you lean over Kageyama and his notes and help him out. Noya takes him before practice in the club room—a realm you are not to enter—and afterwards, you pile into Sakanoshita with the blessing of the coach and continue drilling him.

Each night, more work. You get Yachi's number, talk on the phone with her over dinner or scrubbing a bathtub or making sure your father's futon is clean about how Hinata's doing, and for a week and a half, you don't have time to think and life is easy. Your birthday comes and goes, you selfishly request another Soba picture from Noya as your one and only birthday present and don't mention why.¹⁵

So you're actually a little sad when the day comes to leave for the Tokyo camp. For a week and a half, you had a project. You leave a reminder note in the genkan, right next to where your father usually puts down his keys: leaving for Tokyo tonight. Be back the day after tomorrow.

You don't expect him to notice.

Kageyama and Hinata show up to the departure. It's five in the morning, and they're here. Their exams are in four hours, and they're here to watch the rest of you leave for Tokyo.

"So what part of 'get good sleep the night before' means 'be here at five AM' to you two?" you ask, rubbing sleep from the corner of your eye. "Just for future reference so I can avoid it."

"W-we're going to study before the exam!" Hinata protests.

You sigh. "I can't fault you for enthusiasm, I guess. But the sleep advice was for a reason. You two went to bed early last night?"

Two determined nods. "Of course!"

"Good. You've both been working hard, so mark your papers carefully and don't rush, alright? You have enough time, and rushing is just going to screw you up."

"Right."

"You hear that, Hinata—"

"Kageyama-san," you interrupt sharply. "No fighting before six AM. You boys ate breakfast?"

Half a second's guilt has your hand plunging into your bag. "Ridiculous, both of you. Here."

"You're like, really responsible," Hinata comments as you thrust two protein bars at them. "Are you really the same age as us?"

"Not unless we share a birthday, I'm not," you reply.

They each take a protein bar, nodding their thanks.

"We'll see you later today. Make it count."

You climb onto the bus, sit away from Shimizu and Yachi in the single seat across the aisle, and pull out a book.

There's no way in hell you sleep on the way.

Chapter Text

07 - a change of scenery might help

Look, it's not that you don't try to sleep. It's just that—I mean, moving bus, too quiet, you can't exactly lay down or get comfortable, and that's not to mention the scenery out the window. You completely disregard your book two pages in—admittedly because the bus is too dark to read comfortably, something you probably should have expected and planned for, but also because once you start moving, it's the perfect environment to rest your forehead against the glass and watch Japan pass you by.

Like this, bus hoodie on and pulled up, you'll look asleep to anyone actually awake on the bus, which you're pretty sure is just Takeda-sensei and Coach Ukai, speaking to each other in low voices two rows ahead of you.

Like this, it's easy to let your mind wander. First to generic fantasizing, wondering how the book you've set aside will continue and where the plot's going, then, inevitably, to the idea you've been avoiding eye contact with:

How do you know whether your dad comes home tonight?

~

You must have fallen asleep at some point in spite of everything, because you wake up to a gentle hand on your shoulder, shaking you just enough to pull you out of sleep.

"[name]-sannn," a familiar voice sings, uncharacteristically quiet.

"Mmgh," you reply.

"C'mon, we're almost at Nekoma! We're in Tokyo, you gotta wake up!"

You let out a whine of complaint, but it does not sway him, not even when it breaks off into a poorly-timed yawn.

"You're very cute, and I do need you to marry me after that, but you still gotta get up."

You groan, refusing to open your eyes. "Stop makin' fun of me and ask nine hundred sixty-eight more times."

An offended gasp. "You don't remember? It's nine hundred sixty-seven. You were half asleep for the last one."

A single eye opens. You must have missed whatever shuffle went on, because Yachi (who had been in the seat across the aisle from you with Shimizu) is now one row back, Noya perched on the end of the seat to shake you awake. "If I don't remember it, you need proof or it doesn't count."

"Ryuu! I proposed to [name]-san when she wouldn't wake up at the rest stop, right?"

"He did," Tanaka's voice confirms from further back in the bus.

Narita pipes up: "Sorry, [surname]-chan, but I can confirm this one."

"See? Nine hundred and sixty-seven to go."

One final groan of complaint as you sit up. "Fine. I'm up." A slow, languid stretch, a move to put your book away and fold your bus hoodie into your bag so you can be presentable for the Tokyo guys. Noya is pulled back a few rows on the bus by a stern Sawamura, allowing Yachi to rejoin you in the designated girls' row as you get yourself together.

The bus erupts in a loud buzz of distinctly athletic excitement as the corner is turned into the Nekoma High School parking lot. Noya and Tanaka are really doing their best to maintain the same club volume as usual without the usual perpetrators, but there's even a decent level of excitement from the others—Shimizu had informed you the other day about Nekoma, about a rekindled rivalry between the schools. It's all beyond you, but again, you never were the athletic type.

The guys hurry off the bus. You, for your part, take your time, let the others file off while you get your bag organized. As you join the others in the parking lot, legs stiff from hours in a bus seat, the usual duo shouts.

"It's the Skytree!" Noya says, pointing at… a transmission tower.

You stifle a laugh. "It's not, but lend me some of that enthusiasm."

Several guys have come out to meet the lot of you—black shirts, red pants. You remember from what Shimizu told you that there's several schools at this camp, but the host school is the one that your club has any previous connections with. Logic follows: this would be guys from Nekoma.

You let Shimizu split your little group off from the guys, follow a few steps behind them as you take in the school. Honestly, nothing looks… that different. Flatter, maybe, and the school is definitely a little nicer than Karasuno.

It's a cry of anguish that snaps you out of your thoughts. You catch up to Shimizu and Yachi, peer around Shimizu curiously to spot the Nekoma guy who's fallen to his knees before them. He's got a Mohawk. Sick.

At the sight of you, he appears to burst into tears, Tanaka laughing over him.

"You got three managers? What the hell, man? Hot one… cute one… pretty one…"

A laugh from behind you. A hand on your shoulder.

"The pretty one's off-limits, though," Noya says smugly. "She'll be marrying me."

You roll your eyes, smile flicking to your lips. "Is that you asking me?"

"Yes!"

"And you're really not giving up?"

"Of course I won't! Who do you take me for?"

"Let's go," Shimizu whispers to you.

You nod to her, brush Noya's hand off your shoulder. "Nine hundred sixty-six. Don't get into trouble this weekend."

Shimizu leads you away. You're off to meet the other managers at the camp, which is sure to involve moving less men to tears than walking through the gates did.

"Tokyo's intense," Yachi whispers as you make some distance between you and Mohawk Guy.

You nod. "Those two weren't kidding about us making them cooler just by being here."

Yachi frowns. "I still really don't know that that's true, but…"

"You got assigned 'the cute one'. Be proud of it, y'know?"

She grips the straps of her backpack, watching her feet as she walks. "I guess."

~

There are four other managers at this camp. You meet them in rapid succession: two third-years at Fukurodani (a small comfort to you as one of two first-years at Karasuno; at least two managers in the same year isn't completely unheard of), a second-year from Ubugawa, and a third-year from Shinzen.¹⁶ In other words, you and Yachi are the youngest ones here. They're all very friendly, at least; Ubugawa's manager (Miyanoshita) leads the three of you to where you'll be sleeping that night to set your bags down, chattering the whole way about the different teams here. You do your best to absorb, do your best not to lose the rundowns she's given you.

Fukurodani has one of the best aces in the country and is considered a top-four team in Japan. Shinzen is really good at combination plays. Nekoma focuses on defense. Ubugawa focuses on heavy serves. Their members have to serve a hundred times at the end of each normal practice.

"How do their arms not rip off serving like that?" Yachi whispers.

"They're a rich kid school," you whisper back, "they just put the arms back on afterward."

"Eep! C-can you imagine?"

"They have to surgically reinforce their joints to play good volleyball. They're all secretly cyborgs. That's why athletes act so weird; they're slowly becoming robots."

Shimizu nods solemnly. "That would explain a lot about our own boys."

"I haven't actually gotten to hear a lot about Karasuno!" Miyanoshita says. "I guess your school is closer tied to Nekoma, but they don't have a manager, so I couldn't ask anyone about it…"

"Ah, Karasuno is more of an offensive team," Shimizu says, launching into a more detailed explanation that you quickly tune out. You're more than happy to let the other girls handle the social angle.

It's like a sleepover. Spend the night sleeping on the floor with a bunch of girls talking about, like, boys or whatever. You've never been on a sleepover and you've never particularly wanted to be.

The gym where the actual training camp is taking place is not only huge, but packed with guys. You took enough time getting your things put down that Karasuno's already warmed up and been given their jerseys, waiting to join the rotation.

The setup is simple enough. Four teams play at once—one versus another—and the team that loses a set has to do a penalty lap of something called 'diving drills' around the gym. Karasuno will jump in to play the winner of whatever set finishes next and join the rotation accordingly.

Intimidated as Yachi is about how intense the other four schools here are, you're just tired already. Maybe you didn't sleep enough on the bus, maybe it's just the weather, but you're tired.

Karasuno lines up to play their first set, you stand in position to observe, and you hope they play well enough to let you stay awake for the day.

~

Alright, so you'd sort of had the impression from the one practice match you've seen and how serious everyone in the volleyball club is that they were, like, reasonably pretty good. Shimizu even told you as much—some of the best offense in the prefecture rings a bell. But then, you're not in Miyagi prefecture, and these are some of the proven best schools in a much larger region.

So you shouldn't be too surprised to watch your boys get their asses handed to them, repeatedly.

Of course, some of this is partially the distinct lack of Kageyama and Hinata, who really do appear to be the core of the team's play style, but even when the two rush in three hours late and trailed by a tall blonde woman who's much less out of breath, it only improves a little bit. They do penalty lap after penalty lap, and you busy yourself with making drinks, passing out towels, and counting how many diving drills it takes for a single boy to do one lap around the gym. As usual, you find yourself picking one player and following him. And as usual, it ends up being Noya.

After a long day of watching your boys lose and growing progressively more frustrated (the comment you overhear from one of the guys on another team is they're just sort of… normal?) you once again pass out drinks, resolved to be a comfort, if nothing else, to the guys after a rather spectacular losing streak.

"Otsukare,"¹⁷ you chirp as Noya takes a bottle from you.

"Marry me," he groans.

You laugh. "That's not how you say thank you, I think."

He shoots you a pitiful look. "I'm starving."

"I promise you'll live. You've just gotta survive the half hour until dinner."

"I can't, [name]-san. I need you to fuel me—"

You flick his forehead gently. "Keep your sweat off me," you tease. "You're all gross."

"But [name]-san—"

"Don't you but me. Drink your water and sit down for a little bit so you can make it to the cafeteria without collapsing."

He groans, sits plaintively on the floor beside you. "We're getting our asses kicked," he complains. "How am I supposed to look cool in front of pretty girls if we're getting our asses kicked?"

"I think maybe if you tried winning instead of looking cool in front of pretty girls, that might work. Shimizu-senpai doesn't respond well to overt attempts to get her attention, anyway."

"It's cute that you think I'm talking about Kiyoko-san."

"Yachi-san gets stressed out if you address her directly, so she's even worse."

He glares heatlessly at you. "You do respond well to overt attempts to get your attention, so I'm gonna keep it up, thanks."

A moment of brief insanity leads you to ruffle his hair, completely ruining the barely-intact spikes. "I appreciate the initiative, Senpai. See you at dinner."

~

That night, you return to the room from the shower, towel draped over your head, and find yourself enthusiastically greeted by Suzumeda (Fukurodani manager #1). "[name]-chan! Glad you could join us!"

"Join you?" You furrow your brow. "…I gotta sleep here."

She laughs, guides you to sit on one of the futons laid out in a circle. At the center is a plate piled with snack cakes, which Otaki—Shinzen's manager—is very deliberately pushing the other Fukurodani manager's hand away from like she's a cat. There's drinks from the vending machine downstairs, too.

"It's Miyanoshita's birthday! We're doing a tiny little celebration."

That would explain the piece of paper someone's taped in a cone shape currently balancing precariously on Miyanoshita's head.

"Oh, you don't have to, like, include me in it, that's—"

"Nonsense! Come on, sit down, we've already gotten enough for everyone. Yacchan said you liked the banana yogurts, so that's what we got you."

Great. More guilt.

"Well, if you're sure… Uh, happy birthday, Miyanoshita-san."

She smiles, clearly embarrassed. "I had no idea they were setting this up."

"Your fault for mentioning your birthday last year!" Otaki cuts in. "Yuki-chan, quit that. You get your snacks after everyone else."

Shirofuku pouts. "But—"

"No buts. I've seen you eat more snack cakes than this in one shot."

You glance helplessly to Yachi. She's more swept up than you are, but she doesn't seem to want an out, so you have no way to get out while using her comfort as an excuse.

So you sit cross-legged on your futon, eat snack cakes, and drink yogurt in a circle, listening to the others talk until it's your turn, where you inevitably make some noncommittal, polite reply so they feel good for having included you.

That night, you lay awake long after the other girls, tired out from an impromptu birthday party, have passed out. The window curtains are drawn shut, but you stare at the windows anyway, hoping to catch a glimpse of the night sky. When you're too frustrated to keep trying, you reach for your phone, pouting.

[name] to Noya at 23:57

[name]: soba?

Noya: [image attached. Image description: Soba the cat wearing a cowboy hat. She appears extremely disgruntled, her lower half blurred from motion as her mouth opens, as though screaming in the arms of whoever (not pictured) is holding her up.]

Noya: Satsuki insists on dressing her up for Halloween every year. She hasn't gotten used to it.

[name]: why are you awake?

Noya: why are you?

[name]: shut up is why

Noya: wanna talk about it?

You pause. Tap out a message. Wipe it and start over.

[name]: it's just hard to sleep away from home I guess

[name]: I expect to see soba's halloween costume in person this year, jsyk

Noya: yes ma'am

Noya: [image attached. Image description: Soba curled up in Noya's arms. She is asleep, a content look on her face. Noya's face is not pictured, but his arms and chest are bare, arms littered with bruises from volleyball.]

…fuck. He really does have nice arms.

You bury your face in your pillow, feeling your cheeks grow hot as the full scope of the picture sets in.

Fuck. Him.

Noya: more soba for your soba needs

[name]: are you thirst trapping me with your cat right now

Noya: what?

Noya: OH MY GOD I FORGOT I'M NOT WEARING A SHIRT IN THAT PICTURE

Noya: I'M SORRY I REALLY DIDN'T THINK ABOUT IT

Noya: IT WAS THE FIRST TIME SHE FELL ASLEEP IN MY ARMS I WOULD BE WAY MORE DELIBERATE WITH A THIRST TRAP I SWEAR

Noya: WILL YOU STILL MARRY ME

[name]: I'll sleep on it. 964.

[name]: and senpai?

Noya: ?

[name]: thanks

If anyone asks, you do not save the photo.

Chapter Text

08 - don't startle the stray

The vibes are off and you're too tired to do anything but marinate in them.

Another shuffle of bus seats—three girls, two seats at most, but because it's at least daylight and you're alright with it, the others, including Takeda-sensei, have reluctantly allowed a single instance of co-ed seating on the bus, trusting that you'll hit Noya if he tries anything. (You'd gotten onto the bus after him, but you're pretty sure he threatened to fist-fight anyone who sat with him and took your spot. Taking the aisle seat didn't save you: he simply climbed over you to take the window seat.)

Surprisingly, he's not taken the opportunity to talk your ear off. He's kind of got the same vibes everyone else has had ever since this morning, the ones you can't place.

Tense, maybe? Moldy?

You try your best to sigh only internally, not fully willing to be forced to hash it out in an enclosed space regardless of who's decided to pounce on your mood. Instead, you stare at the same damn page of your book that you never got through on the way down here and don't process a single word.

Hinata… got too excited, you guess. Crashed right into Azumane because he wasn't paying enough attention to who the set was for. No one hurt, but then he started in about changing things (not a bad idea, in your totally-expert opinion as someone who has recently gained an entire half of an idea about how volleyball works but who also just spent the past day or so watching them lose), got totally shut down by Kageyama, and outright stated that what they're doing as a team isn't actually working. And ever since, this is what it's been: something pulled taut between the team, everyone on edge.

Something's gonna burst soon.

It's probably a good thing, you think? One of those throw-up-and-then-you'll-feel-better deals. They'll have, like, one big event that fixes everything, and it'll all go back to normal, and it'll be fine and the thing that gets you out of the house will stay fun.

Yeah. It'll be fine.

~

Mei had always been the weirdest Nishinoya sibling. Kaede was responsible (don't make trouble for Mom this month; she gets really sad around the time her ex-husband left); Satsuki was the troublemaker (I wouldn't have punched him if he weren't such a bitch). Yuu was the only boy, the baby, and only a bit less bad than Satsuki. But Mei?

Mei was quiet. She was a Nishinoya and she was quiet. Despite looking alike, the contrast between her and every single other Nishinoya sibling resulted in strangers assuming they were friends at best and that Mei was being harassed by strangers at worst. Jii-chan got to her too late, probably: all the shyness and all-consuming anxiety that Yuu learned to throw out, to set aside, to hold in for times when no one could see, remained her defining trait.

She didn't have any particular strong hobbies that she was willing to talk about. She cried seemingly at random. She spent long stretches of time doing what looked like nothing at all. She was smart and good at school, but where Yuu got to the test and found it almost impossible to focus long enough to finish in time, she'd sit down for an exam and be escorted out half an hour later, hyperventilating after talking herself into a panic attack. Where he'd learned to simply not give a fuck about academics because he was never gonna be good at them anyway, she was already good and stressed herself to tears.

It'd been Yuu who checked the college entrance exam results for her, Satsuki who screamed about her acceptance loud enough to wake the neighbors, and Kaede who baked a cake to celebrate. But before that, they had to bring home Soba.

Satsuki would kill him for saying it, but Mei was also his favorite sister. He had her to thank for teaching him to spot the onset of an anxiety or panic attack, and her to thank for being able to tell the difference between the two. It was Mei he learned simple, effective strategies for calming oneself for, and Mei who jumped to his defense when he brought home yet another shitty test score. It was hard to control his energy around Satsuki, just a year older than him and the most likely sibling to start or join a fight, and Kaede was kind and responsible but just didn't get it. Mei was the one he could sit silently with, decompress, just exist without feeling the need to be bigger than himself. He found that hard to do with anyone else, at any other time.

(It helped that Mei was the only sister who did not tease him for his height, being shorter than every single other Nishinoya sibling and the only boy.)

The day he found Mei crouching near an empty building in the pouring rain, he listened to her whispered instructions, and they stuck.

Don't push too hard. Crouch down, make yourself small so she doesn't think you're a threat. Let her smell you, but don't reach too fast or move too quickly. Don't shout or you'll scare her. If she hisses or shies away, back off. Be patient, and don't give up.

Admittedly, he's been trying to use the same methods that brought Soba home that first night to get close to you, and admittedly, he hasn't done a very good job with most of them, but you don't seem to have noticed when he breaks a cardinal rule by tackling you or shouting because he's excited to see you, and anyways you're not a stray cat and the two of you are more in the "befriending a nervous cat" stage, but the general strategy stands.

Mei's instructions after the two of them had gotten Soba home had been similar to the ones that got Soba out from under the porch she'd been hiding under, and following those instructions religiously were why Soba loved him and Mei and hated everyone else alive, save for you.

If she needs to hide, let her hide as long as it won't hurt her. It's not like we're trying to give her life-saving medicine, and we'll leave out the things she needs so she can access them on her own time.

Picture you, texting him multiple times in the middle of the night, asking for nothing but a picture of Soba with the sort of texting tone that indicated something was wrong. Picture you, refusing to explain what was wrong. Picture him, letting it go even when he can't shake the sense that you didn't just randomly decide you wanted to see his cat at four in the morning.

Try not to upset her routine. She's a nervous kitty, so doing things around the same time each day will help her get used to us.

This is how he justifies yelling your name and complimenting you every single morning. You're not quite as skittish as Yachi is, but he sees the way you walk yourself into conclusions in your head and he saw the way you spiraled directly into an anxiety attack that time you helped him Ryuu and him study. And anyway, you smile when he tells you you look nice that day, so he's not stopping that anytime soon.

Let her come to you. Don't chase her down.

He's not sure near-daily marriage proposals qualifies for not chasing, so to speak, but he's really, really trying not to push any harder than you seem to be okay with.

This last one—other rules for acclimating the nervous new cat that he's decided also apply to courting the prettiest girl he's ever seen—is why, after the fortieth time since he slid into the bus seat beside you, he still doesn't ask why, exactly, you've been on the same page of your book for the past—he checks his phone—forty-three minutes, give or take.

There's no point to giving space to worry ninety percent of the time. If he can't change the outcome, there's no sense in worrying. It's not that he doesn't feel the worry—he just… sets it aside. It's easy to forget it's there if you switch focus to something else, and he's the champion of not focusing on anything at a given time. Shouyo gets too caught up in the game, he creates a new worry by smashing into Asahi's side, but no one was hurt, so forget about it—there's a set to play, a ball to bump, a point to keep in play until it lands on the other side of the net.

But here he is: four and a half hours on a bus, and his most frequent worry these days has been silent a different way from the usual. Yuu would like to think he knows the difference between your pleasant-quiet and your something's-wrong-quiet, and he would also like to think that this difference is fairly obvious considering how much of the past forty-three minutes of silence was you openly glaring at your book without reading it.

Part of let her come to you and don't chase means following cues and paying attention to how you react. You don't like when people worry over you. In fact, you do everything you can to make sure they don't have a reason to. It has the opposite effect, as far as he's concerned, but you take it to a new extreme. He even swears you try to hold in yawns until no one's watching you so no one thinks you're tired, even when the bags under your eyes are clearly running deep. And you're good at putting on a mask—he's seen you switch, the exact moments you decide to smile and talk sweet or otherwise mask some emotion you've decided doesn't have a place in the situation.

That being said, this latest glance worry-ways has him catching you before you sway into the aisle, a firm hand quickly grabbing your shoulder and guiding you back to safety.

Your eyes drift open as he tries not to laugh. "Mmgh?"

"You almost fell," he whispers. "Go back to sleep, we've got a while to go."

"Mmkay."

He shuts his eyes tight, presses a hand firm over his mouth to stop himself. Much like the first time Soba fell asleep on him, there's a life-changing pride that swells in his chest, spiking to what he's pretty sure counts as a cardiac event when you sway again, this time leaning over to rest your head against his shoulder.

"Uh—[name]-san—"

You turn your face into his shoulder wordlessly. You've already fallen back asleep.

Face burning, he shuffles to get comfortable, marks your page in your book, and sets it closed on your lap. Then, as an afterthought, he pulls up his phone's camera and starts a video recording.

"Before you fall back asleep, [name]-san," he whispers.

You wrinkle your nose, let out a tiny whine of acknowledgment.

"Marry me?"

You let out a breathy mumble that he's pretty sure is an attempt at the words stay still.

He won't argue with that.

~

You wake up with a sore neck.

You'd imagine it has something to do with the weight currently resting on your head, but you can't be sure and you're too tired to bother opening your eyes or moving. Instead, you listen to the ambient noise of the bus, which right now appears to be consumed with whispers more than anything.

"E-eh?" Yachi is saying to someone. "I-I can't just—that would be so rude—"

"Come on. You can always delete it if she asks when she's up."

"I-I'm sorry, Tanaka-san—"

"No worries. Here, let me just—"

You have a weird feeling about this. You shift, turn your face into whatever it is you've decided to use as a pillow for this bus ride.

This is about when you remember who you were sitting beside for the ride back.

"Got it! I'm just gonna—"

"Tanaka-senpai, if I open my eyes and I see you recording us in any form, I'm breaking your phone," you grumble, not bothering to unwind your arms from what you're pretty sure is Noya's midsection. You're also pretty sure that soreness in your neck has something to do with his head resting on yours, and you're absolutely certain that that's his arm around your waist. Put simply, any untangling right now is gonna wake him up if you're not careful.

All fine. You vaguely remember him catching you from falling into the aisle earlier. Given that he would appear to be asleep right now, you can't really blame him from shifting into a more comfortable position in his sleep, especially seeing as you can't see him moving your arms to wrap around his body in your sleep. That, and you know how often you wake up cuddling your pillow. For once, you're not going to kill him for something.

That being said, you're also pretty sure Tanaka can tell that you're not fucking around.

"Do me a favor and don't open your eyes yet, then," he replies simply. After a moment's shuffle: "Alright, now you don't have to break my phone."

Your phone—or maybe Noya's?—buzzes between you.

You'll bet actual money that he just sent whatever photo he took to one—or both—of you.

You open your eyes with a sigh, raising an eyebrow when you catch Yachi's sparkly look from over the seat back.

"Um." She takes a moment to collect herself. "Sensei says we'll be stopping at a rest stop soon, so everyone should be ready to get up and stretch their legs."

"'Kay."

Tanaka leers from across the aisle. "You can have the honors of waking your cuddle buddy up, [name]-san. Since you two are so close all of a sudden."

"I'm going to hit you."

"Lucky me, you'll need to wake him up to do that, and I'm pretty sure Noya-san will hold you back if you try."

You grumble. "Just watch me."

Finally, finally, you move to untangle yourself from Noya. Pat a hand on his chest in hopes of getting him to wake up. "Senpai. C'mon."

He shuffles a little. You shake him harder.

"Senpai."

He sighs sleepily, brings up his other arm to pull you against his chest in a crushing hold.

Tanaka stifles a laugh behind you. "By the way, he's got a bit of a death grip when he's still asleep. Good luck!"

"Don't you good luck me, help!" you hiss, wriggling in his hold.

"Promise not to hurt me for anything that's happened on this bus today?"

"Tanaka-senpai! After all I did for you—"

A hand reaches over the back of your seat, baps Noya on the head hard enough that it moves your head.

"Oi," Ennoshita says. "Get up. You're crushing [surname]-san."

A sleepy mumble. You feel the weight on top of your head shift, and you peek up at Noya, red-faced as you watch him process where he is.

Your one consolation is that he appears to become equally red-faced the moment he looks down at you. "Good morning, Senpai. P-please let me go so I can kill your best friend."

Impossibly, his hold on you tightens, sleep clearing from his eyes with frankly impressive speed. "What'd he do?"

"Irrelevant. I said please?"

He hums softly. "I'm not sure… we do need him for matches…"

Fuck. You need to get out of this before you combust. Not even just because this weird twist in your torso is starting to make more than just your neck hurt—every word from his mouth is rumbling through his chest, still sleep-tinged, and straight into you. "C'mon, Ennoshita-senpai can take his place, it won't kill you guys."

He studies you carefully, having apparently immediately grown used to the position where you've become a teddy bear. "Give me a strong yes and I'll think about it."

Alright, bet. Time to break out the big guns.

Looking at him with your best, sweetest puppy-dog eyes, you shift your voice into something just a touch cutesier than your usual. You'd normally never be caught dead with that tone, but desperate times call for desperate measures, right? "Senpai."

He blinks, expression going carefully blank.

"Please?"

He lets you go like he's been burned, and you immediately respond by launching yourself at Tanaka. Regrettably, Sawamura had sat across the aisle from the both of you as a pseudo-chaperone. He doesn't even look up when he sticks an arm out between you to block your path.

"The cleaning fees if you murder someone on the bus are ridiculous. All that hard work you and Yachi-san put in for donations would barely make a dent in it."

You frown, deflating a little. "I barely put in any work. Don't credit me for that."

He glances up at you curiously, but doesn't lower his arm until the bus pulls into the rest stop. "Tanaka, don't antagonize [surname]-san."

"Why am I getting yelled at? She's the one threatening me!"

Sawamura doesn't respond. You stick your tongue out and quiet down—Takeda-sensei's gotten up to address the bus.

"Alright, everyone, we're going to take some time to stretch and eat before getting back on the road. Feel free to get out, get some food, and everything, just please remember to be back at the bus in forty-five minutes."

Ukai nods along. "Don't make us hunt you down."

A round of affirmations stirs up in reply as your heart sinks.

You didn't bring any money.

No problem; you'll get off, bathroom break just so you can say you got off the bus, and then just get back on the bus and wait to leave. Maybe actually make progress on that fucking book you haven't been reading even though you've had at least six non-consecutive hours to read. It's getting ridiculous at this point.

You hop off the last step of the bus, scan the area until you find the large red and blue signs indicating the bathrooms. Before you can take more than two steps towards them, someone taps your shoulder.

There's Noya, grinning like always. "Where are you off to?"

"Bathroom. I'm pretty sure you can't legally follow, Senpai."

"Wanna grab lunch?"

"I'm not that hungry, but thanks."

He doesn't miss a beat. "I'll treat you."

"We've been over this, you don't have to—"

"Consider it payment for the exams I wouldn't have passed without you."

"You already got me chips and stuff."

"And now I'm getting you lunch. Come on." He guides you very deliberately towards the food court. "If you actually need to use the bathroom I'll let you escape, but if you hide there until we leave I'm picking food for you and buying it anyway."

"You're insane."

"You're stuck with me," he retorts, and, well, you don't have anything to say to that.

~

You get the Shunsai Curry and Noya gets a slice of pizza. He'd raised an eyebrow at you picking the cheapest thing on the menu, but let it slide when you pointed out it was a meal and you could have just refused to eat anything but gelato.¹⁸

He'd then insisted that afterwards, you get gelato. You'd insisted that he not buy you gelato. You've compromised, and now you're sitting across from him with a cup of gelato.

12:42. Be back at the bus in thirteen minutes. Give five minutes to walk, or three if you're willing to run, which Noya might be but you're not. Finish the gelato by 12:50. Easy enough, if you could make yourself take a bite.

"You alright?"

900 yen for the curry. 350 yen for the gelato. He's spent 1,250 yen on you in the past thirty-two minutes.¹⁹

Another glance at your phone. 12:43. You're going to be late getting back if you don't eat the stupid gelato, and you can't waste it. Not when he spent 350 yen on it.

This is so fucking stupid.

"[name]-san?"

A hand waves in your field of vision. You blink, snapping back into reality. Noya finished his gelato sometime between the walk from the stand to the table, while you haven't even tasted yours.

"Sorry," you mumble. You don't elaborate.

"I asked if you were alright. You're glaring at the gelato even harder than you were glaring at your book earlier."

"Oh. Sorry."

"One more apology, and I'm buying you a souvenir—"

"Stop," you snap, the anger startling even you. "Stop wasting money on me, Noya-senpai. You don't have to—I'm not a charity case, you know?"

He flinches a little, settles back in his chair. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"Aren't you? I'm not—I'm not destitute or anything, I just—I mean—Otoo-san has money, I could have just asked for money to spend on the way back, it's not—"

"I didn't think you were," he says slowly. "Poor, or anything like that. I mean, I've seen your house."

"Exactly!" you bite out as the first tears slip down your cheeks. "You've seen my house. You're probably just—I mean, everyone in the neighborhood probably knows that—"

He slips back into that gentle tone from before, the cat-coaxing tone like you're some scared animal. "Hey. Why are you crying? I'm sorry."

You drop your head, stab the gelato almost too hard with your spoon. "Do you seriously not know?"

"You're really going to have to elaborate for me to have any idea what you're talking about."

"…let's do this. Why do you go out of your way to be nice to me and buy me stuff?"

"You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen and I like being around you," he says, beginning to count on his fingers. "I'd say we've become friends, seeing as you actually started calling me Noya-senpai when I asked you to and we talk a lot, and I like doing things for my friends. Especially when they're pretty girls."

"…do you have a lot of pretty girls as friends?"

"Just the one!" He doesn't miss a beat. "Not only that, but a good senpai takes care of his underclassmen. It's my job to buy you and Shouyo ice cream and nikuman! Hm, what else… oh! Because I wanna spoil you! I said this before, but you've got a really nice smile, and even though you always try to stop me from spending money on you, you usually smile and you always thank me, which feels really nice."

Unbelievable. Actually unbelievable. Everyone in the fucking neighborhood knew about it. You spent weeks getting cards and flowers and fruit plates from well-meaning strangers. You stopped going to the closest grocery store because the owner kept giving you a pitying look and mysteriously forgetting to charge you for a few things. The only butcher shop you're willing to attend is because the owner has never even once commented on it, even though you're certain she knows. And Noya has no idea. "Is that seriously it?"

"Oh! Also because I don't think anyone should have to skip lunch just because they don't happen to have any money on them. I've got the extra to feed you, and Okaa-san and Jii-chan are both huge on the whole 'if someone goes hungry, you're failing them' deal. So right now I'm also feeding you because it's the right thing to do."

You study him carefully. You're not sure Noya can lie—he's refreshingly, frustratingly open at all times. He doesn't ever hold back. Even for stupid things like transparently trying to get you to let him try your cooking, he just admits to it when you confront him.

"…how good are you at keeping secrets?"

"Satsuki, my sister, has gotten into something like twenty fights in her lifetime and our mom has never heard of a single one of them. Does that mean anything?"

Fuck it. You've already broken down in public. "Do you want to come over for dinner tonight?"

He blinks slowly. "Yes. Absolutely. Why?"

"I… I'll tell you about it, but we really don't have the time right now, and I don't want to talk about it in front of everyone else in the club, so…"

"Dinner, then." He grins. Pats your head. "Eat your gelato quick and try to get the sniffles out so we can run back to the bus without anyone asking any questions. I'll let you run my phone battery down with full access to the Soba albums once we're back."

You obey quietly: wipe your tears, eat your gelato. Noya checks his phone while you freeze your brain, and at 12:52, the two of you run back to the bus and pile into your seats at exactly 12:55.

Once again, you underestimated him.

Chapter Text

09 - get it out of your system

The foretold Soba albums are remarkable. Despite his promise of unlimited access, Noya curates the photos for you, starting at the very beginning and not quite handing his phone over to you directly. You suspect this has more to do with the fact that you saw the text his phone unlocked on, and given the opportunity, you're fucking deleting the photo Tanaka sent him of the two of you napping together before lunch.

Instead, you lean in close to see his screen properly, head resting against his side. Initially, he'd shown a split second of awkwardness at the contact, but your attempt to respect his comfort level and pull away had seen him wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you right back down.

The photo he shows you now is one of the earliest: a girl, a bit thicker than Noya or the other sister you've seen but looking to be around his age now at the time of the photo, holds what's clearly Soba as a kitten—99% fluff and 1% anger. "This's Mei and Soba," Noya tells you in a low voice. "Mei and I were the ones that rescued her—I think this picture was right after we brought her back from getting checked at the vet? He said she was barely old enough to be separated from her mom, but when Mei found her, the mom was…"

You get the implication. "That's so sad. Do you guys know what happened to her mom?"

"We think she was hit by a car," he answers.

You nearly laugh. It's too perfect. "Mine, too," you whisper bitterly.

He tenses against you. "What?"

"Right in front of the house."

"Fuck, I'm so—"

You wind your arm around him, eyes locked on Soba and Mei. "Don't, Senpai. I don't want it."

He clears his throat awkwardly. Drags his thumb in mindless circles over your waist. "Okay. I won't, then."

"Tell me more about Soba?"

He obeys without a second thought, scrolling through to show you more as he continues telling you about Soba—early days, the household war over her name that the mysterious third sister, Satsuki, eventually won. (Apparently, he'd wanted to name her Miku. He refused to elaborate on this.) His arm doesn't leave you after that, either—one hand flicking through his photos, one resting too-hot on your waist.

It's a little weird, hearing him talk without raising his voice. Part of it, you think, is the weird tension that still hasn't quite left the others—the rest of the bus is relatively quiet. There's still noise, of course. But normally, Hinata and Kageyama would be at each other's throats, or else Hinata would be loudly chattering to someone—pissing off Tsukishima, or excitedly hyping up Tanaka. Unlike the bus ride down here, where the two boys weren't present, you're dimly aware in the back of your mind that they should be disrupting the peace.

"Hey. Where's your head?"

"Sorry."

"Oh, don't say that. You were all out of it earlier, too."

"Just… worried about those two," you whisper.

"Who, Shouyo and Kageyama?"

A nod.

"Is worrying about it gonna change anything?"

"It's not like I can just not worry about it. What, do you just decide not to worry and then not do it?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

You blink up at him, somewhere between awe and disgust. "That's insane."

"It took some practice. But, you know, unless you're gonna do something about it, looking at pictures of my cat is a way better use of your time. Otherwise you're just stressing yourself out, and that's the opposite of what we're trying to do right now."

"I don't understand how you can not worry about it."

"I mean, I'm worried. I'm just not paying too much attention to it 'cus there's not much point. Especially not when there's this picture of Soba in a bowtie Satsuki made for her you need to look at before I move on."

Oh my god that's the cutest thing you've ever seen. You coo, eyes sparkling at baby Soba.

"The fact that you have this many photos of your cat is still the most jarring thing to me," you tease. "Tough guy and his two thousand photos of his cat wearing cowboy hats and bowties."

"It's closer to one thousand, thank you very much. Soba's a very important cat." He clears his throat, drops his voice even lower, like he doesn't want anyone else to hear him. "My… I'm pretty sure she saved my sister's life."

"Oh. Like…"

He nods. "I don't really remember much, but our dad left when I was pretty young. I guess it probably messed me up pretty bad, and I used to be a lot more like Mei when I was a kid, but she always took it way harder than even Okaa-san did. She started doing stuff after we found Soba. I don't know where she went, but it was kinda like she brought my sister back."

"Are you just telling me this because I told you about my mom?"

He shrugs, the movement awkward with you pressed so completely into his side. "A little. It didn't seem fair."

…well, at least he's honest.

"But, I mean, I also just want you to know. That's okay, right?"

"…yeah." You shuffle a little, press your thigh into his in a way that's meant to be comforting. "Soba's a good cat."

He nods. "The best cat."

"And… thanks. For sharing and—and all that. I'm sorry about your dad and your sister."

He goes back to showing you photos of Soba in relative silence until his phone battery hits red. Then, it's you actually reading your book, half-resting it on his lap so he can read along if he wants. Impressively, he actually seems to be. He taps your side whenever he's done reading the page, and you nod whenever you're ready for the page to turn.

You don't untangle for the rest of the several-hour bus ride.

~

Back at the school gets you all a meeting, sat in a circle on the gym floor, and reminds you with stunning clarity that promising to tell Noya the story over dinner means you have to make a real dinner and actually tell him the story. The teasing from a few of the others on the way you were cuddled up when you got back to the school falls completely flat—you're too wrapped up in dread to even think about being embarrassed for the tangled legs or the comfort of Noya's chest beneath your ear.

So you respond the way you always do: get changed slow, linger in the changing room until Shimizu and Yachi have both gotten into their school uniforms and gone on ahead for the night. Check your phone in slow motion, pretending like you would have received any texts when the only people you talk to have been on a bus with you for the past five hours.

(Tanaka has texted you. Multiple times, in fact; you now have two pictures of you cuddling Noya awake and asleep, as well as several teasing messages about your new boyfriend.)

Eventually, you can't justify wasting any more time. Noya will come drag you out if you take too much longer. You meander past the gym just in time to see a panicked Yachi run past, yelling for an upperclassman—any upperclassman.

Then you hear the shouting inside the gym.

You poke your head inside, drop your bag as you watch Hinata clock Kageyama right in the face.

Not on your fucking watch.

~

Noya leans against the school gate with Ryuu. He's waiting, of course, for you. His side feels buzzy where you'd spent the majority of the past three hours pressed into him. He keeps thinking, guiltily, about your leg pressed into his, migrating over the course of two hours until neither of you were acknowledging the fact that you were halfway in his lap. And now, dinner.

Later tonight, he'll text Ryuu, a series of all-caps messages begging for divine answers on what the fuck it's supposed to mean when a girl goes out of her way to cuddle up to you. He won't include your dinner conversation, but he'll include a too-detailed description of how it felt when you sighed against him, the way you melted slowly over the course of the ride. He'll give even more details to Satsuki, red-faced and falling apart, desperate for a straight answer from the only sister available to give advice, and when she teases him—you should have just pulled her into your lap the rest of the way, stupid—he'll feel no more enlightened than before he debased himself asking for his sister's advice. He'll end the night with an embarrassing new search history that starts with how to tell if a girl meant anything by cuddling with you and ends with a browser in incognito mode, no new insights, a profound sense of guilt, and a mess to clean up in his bedroom.

For now though, he's fully not processing what Ryuu's saying to him, though he knows it's about you, about the leap from teasing jokes to napping together.

He's processing it even less when Yachi runs up to them, white as a sheet and nearly screaming.

"Woah, Yacchan, what's—"

"P-please! I-in the gym, they're—they're gonna die!" she babbles, already crying.

Noya shares a look with Ryuu and runs off ahead. Ryuu can be the one to calm her down—Noya's faster.

This is how he finds Shouyo: rage in his eyes, voice hoarse as he shouts, cut off abruptly as he's thrown to the ground.

This is how he finds Kageyama: swinging back, hardly paying attention to anything except the middle blocker he's fighting before a fist closes in his shirt and roughly shoves him back.

This is how he finds you: right in the middle of it, taking a punch in the mouth clearly not meant for you as you throw one to the ground and roughly force the other back a good few steps.

"That's enough!" you snap. The other two are shell-shocked at the sight of you. "What the hell do you think you're doing!?"

"[surname]-san—" Kageyama starts, eyes wide. "I didn't mean to—"

"Be quiet. Both of you, sit. Don't even look at each other. You scared the hell out of Yachi-san, you know that?"

Noya stands, frozen, watching you stand over them with your hands on your hips like you didn't just take a punch to the mouth.

"Right. I'm sorry," they mutter in sync.

"I'm sure you are. Is this about the spike thing?"

They both look instantly incensed, talking over each other.

"He said he wasn't gonna set to me—"

"We don't have time to focus on this—"

Your voice cuts them off sharply. "I asked you both a yes or no question. I'm not interested in hearing anything else right now."

"…yes."

"Oi oi oi!" Ryuu's voice cuts in, footsteps stuttering to a stop beside him in the doorway. "You two—"

You don't even look up at the intrusion. "One of you, find me a first aid kit. The other, go find me a couple rags and get them wet. Cold water, please. Yachi-san, take a seat. Your heart needs to rest before I enlist you in anything."

Noya's muscles tense, and he moves, remembering vaguely where the first aid kit is normally hung on the wall. Ryuu silently moves to the storage closet to find some rags.

"Now. Admittedly, I'm still not that informed on volleyball. Is getting into fistfights with your teammates how you make it to nationals?"

"…no," Shouyo mutters.

"Do you win matches by scaring the shit out of the most gentle-hearted manager in existence?"

"…no."

"So what the hell do you think you're accomplishing right now? Fifty words or less from each of you. Hinata, you can start."

"He—he said that he wasn't going to set to me anymore! I'm just trying to improve what we have! If that quick is our greatest weapon, then—"

Kageyama growls. "Then you need to—"

"It's not your turn to talk." Silence. "You've got twelve more words, Hinata."

"…I'm not worth anything on the court without that attack," he finishes lamely. Noya might not have heard him if he hadn't come up beside you, placing the first aid kit in your waiting hand.

You crouch down, start rifling through the kit with a nod of thanks to Noya. "You're trying to improve things because you want to keep being a regular."

"…yeah. I just want to keep playing volleyball."

"Alright. Kageyama. Fifty words or less."

Kageyama grits his teeth. You're not even looking at him—instead, you're looking over Hinata, a bandage in hand.

"If we spend all our time and energy working on making a change that might not work, it's just going to hurt us more later. Hinata should be focusing on improving as an all-around player instead of wasting time on something we've tried before and couldn't make work. All this—"

"That's fifty."

"Oi—"

"I said fifty words or less."

"But—"

"You just punched me in the face, so sorry, but you get to talk when I say you get to talk. You used your fifty." You accept a cold rag from Ryuu, press it firmly against a red spot on Hinata's cheek. "Hold that there. It's not quite an ice pack, but it'll help with the swelling and maybe prevent later bruising."

"Um, [surname]-san, your lip—"

"This isn't about me, but thank you for your concern."

"Oi, did Kageyama seriously—" Ryuu whispers to Noya.

Noya nods. "I don't think she even noticed. He got her right in the mouth."

You shift to looking over Kageyama for injuries, roughly smoothing a bandaid in place on his face. "I know I'm new to all this stuff, but you two weren't there for the start of the training camp. Right now, the team is built around that attack. Without it, you can't win against high-level teams. And with it, you also can't seem to win, but you're much closer."

Noya winces. You're right, but…

When you're satisfied with the first aid administered, another damp rag being pressed against Kageyama's own bruises, you lean back, settling on your knees to look at them both. "I don't think Hinata's wrong for wanting to improve it when it's not working. And I don't think Kageyama-san is wrong for wanting there to be focus on improving in other areas. It seems to me, as someone whose entire job is to watch you guys and pay attention, that both of those things are going to be necessary if you want to start winning. But that's just me."

After a long moment of silence, you sigh. "How are both of you feeling?"

"Fine," Shouyo mutters. Kageyama simply glares at the floor.

"Good enough. Let's get this mess cleaned up and go home. Gym inspections tomorrow, so you have a day to work through your shit before practicing together again. Do us all a favor and use it wisely. Solve it however, I don't care, but no more scaring Yachi-san and no more actual fistfights."

You rise, move to help them clean up the scattered volleyballs and take down the net. Noya grabs your shoulder immediately, turns you to inspect the damage.

That would be what Hinata was trying to point out. Now that you're actually facing him, he can see the split in your lip, the blood lazily trailing down your chin.

"Nope," he says immediately. "Come on, it's your turn to get first aid."

"Senpai, I'm—"

"Bleeding. Those three can clean up just fine. Let me take a look."

You roll your eyes, but let him guide you to sit against the wall while he inspects your bleeding mouth. Yachi seems no better for the wear after returning—the fight's done, which leaves her full brainspace to panic over you and your bloody lip.

"[s-surname]-chan, h-how did you—"

You scoff at her panic, pat the ground next to you. "Sit down. You look like you're gonna pass out."

She obediently sits. Noya crouches in front of you, tilts your chin so he can dab at the blood running down your face. "I'm gonna kill him," he growls.

"Don't. I knew what I was getting into. 'Sides, he clearly didn't mean to hit me."

"But he did," he grumbles.

Your eyes slide Yachi-ways, amusement clear in your features. "Senpai. You realize you can't really do anything for a split lip, right? It's stop the bleeding and then go about your life."

"But—"

"Yachi-san, are you okay?" you interrupt him, turning to the poor girl. "You're still super pale."

She nods slowly. "I… it's not like I got involved in the fight or anything. It was just… scary…"

You flash a reassuring smile, reach over to pat her on the shoulder. "You did good. It's over now, yeah?"

"Right… d-do you think they'll be… okay…?"

"They will if they've got their friends with them through it."

Noya stands, helps you to your feet. Offers a hand to Yachi, too, who politely refuses. "I seriously thought you might pass out back there."

She shakes her head. "I'll be okay. Thank you."

You brush yourself off. "Sorry you guys had to see that, though. Yachi-san, if you're feeling alright, maybe walk back with Hinata? You gel pretty well with him, and I don't think either of them want to hear any more from me tonight."

She nods. You ask the same favor of Ryuu with walking back Kageyama; effortlessly, everything is cleaned up, the two first-years involved in the fight get sent on, and you walk back with Noya, carrying the bloodied rag in your hand.

"You're learning a lot about me today, I guess," you comment, a thin veneer of amusement over your voice. "We haven't even gotten to the part where I cook you dinner to make up for telling you all about my trauma immediately after."

"Hey, I'm not complaining," he jokes. If he runs right at the dinner thing, you'll probably clam up again. "Stern [name]-san back there was kinda hot, though. You need a husband?"

Wrong thing to say, Noya, wrong thing to say—

You toss your head back and laugh. "I dunno. I've gotten a lot of applications recently. Pretty sure they're all the same guy, though."

"Damn. He must have eyes or something."

"I'm not sure he does, really. I'm kinda a mess."

He pulls you into a side hug. "You do a really good job of pretending not to be."

"You're not even going to deny it?"

"Oh, sorry, you're not a mess. You alone are the one human being in existence who has ever had it together."

"Thank you, thank you." You pat his chest. His nerves light on fire at the contact—he nearly misses a step.

You lead him past his own house, where you normally part. Your mind is somewhere else—he lets it drift there for now. There'll be plenty of time over dinner to figure out what's going on inside your head.

~

Your hands shake as you prepare dinner. You didn't really have much of a plan, but curry makes a lot and lets you eat well for over a week after cooking once, so you tie an apron around your waist, peel potatoes, chop garlic, and get nearly half an hour to think about the elephant before you let it into the room.

Noya, for his part, waits as you work. He sits at the table, watches you swish about the kitchen, watches you grate an apple and wipe down the salt container and dump lemon juice into your bowl of grated apple. He's patient, just to surprise you. When you throw stock into the pot and drop a lid on top, you turn to him at last, feeling the dread so acutely that you end up turning back to the sink and washing whatever dishes you've dirtied in the past half an hour.

"Did you want to wait until we were eating to talk to me about it?" he asks at last, head propped up against his hand as he watches you. "I can help with dishes."

"No," you say, too quickly. "I just—I need to do something with my hands. Sorry. I'm nervous."

"It's alright. You've got good reason to be. How's your lip feeling?"

"I've had worse."

He raises an eyebrow at that, but doesn't press.

You wipe the knife clean and sigh.

"Alright. I think—I think I'm ready."

~

Twenty months and four days before you make curry with Nishinoya Yuu sitting in your kitchen, your parents finally figure out how hard it is to love you.

Ten days before that, you'd taken midterms and simply chosen not to care about them. You did whatever, you rushed in, you didn't prepare. And you bombed two exams.

For ten days, you didn't tell anyone. You crumpled the test papers into the bottom of your bookbag and forgot about them. Who cared, anyway? It was midterms and you were fourteen. They weren't even final exams. You had other, more important things to worry about, like the new game that just came out and impressing Kasumi from your homeroom—so cool, so pretty, so unabashed.

(To Noya, you don't mention her name. You don't mention her gender, or her shiny black hair, or how soft it felt between your fingers. How easy it was to find excuses to touch it.)

Your parents cared. They were rarely both home after school. They both loved their jobs, loved to work, loved each other, and loved you less. Love was real and it was different from person to person—shameless, bubbly affection between your parents, the thrilling swoop of your stomach as you stole kisses with Kasumi behind the arcade and fished for extra yen to try one more time for the rabbit plush in the crane game.

The parent you got to have on November 11th, 2010 was your mom. You took an early bath, left your bag a mess on the living room floor. Emerged with skin tinged pink from too-hot water, already in your pajamas long before dinner.

Your mother stood in the living room, a crumpled piece of paper in her hand.

Your math exam, a stunning twelve points out of a potential hundred at the top. You'd understood all the concepts, you just hadn't cared.

You always wanted to test whether people actually liked you.

If your mother loved you, she'd look at the paper and love you anyway. She'd work to love you, fourteen years old and filling out two answers on your answer sheet before doodling over the rest because you just didn't care anymore. She'd smile, exasperated, and ask why, and then no matter what you said, she wouldn't care about the answer because she'd love you anyway.

If your mother loved you, whenever she inevitably learned about Kasumi, about your infatuation with her berry-flavored chapstick and soft skin, there wouldn't be a fight. She'd look at you and see you happy with another girl. She'd smile, exasperated. She'd ask why, but wouldn't care about the answer. No matter what you said, she would love you anyway.

The way she looked at you wasn't loving. It was disappointed.

"Why does your test paper look like this, [name]?" she asked. In your memories, her voice sounds like ice, almost pretty in how cold it is. You're sure it probably sounded a little nicer at the time.

You'd mumbled something halfway truthful, something about you'll love me even if I'm a failure, right? and she'd looked actually hurt.

"You're not a failure," she said simply. "My daughter is not a failure. She's brilliant. She's just lost her way a little."

You didn't lose your way you loved her you loved her YOU LOVED HER—

You remember your temper flaring. You remember yelling.

You remember your mother going out for a walk—give me a minute. You calm yourself down, like we talked about, and I'm going to calm myself down outside, and then we can come back to this conversation, okay, sweetheart?

You remember sitting, arms crossed, on the couch. Screaming into a pillow. Screaming not into a pillow.

You remember laying on the couch, the way you always would with her when waiting for Dad to come home, late at the office again. The way you and Dad would when she was the one working late.

There was love in this house—once. The last time it had been here was November 10th, 2010.

Eventually, still angry, hoping to maybe yell at Mom in public so the neighbors would see how much she didn't love you, you stormed outside.

You saw your mom, returning from her walk.

You saw the car.

You're told that you screamed, but you don't remember it.

~

"So… yeah." The roux block breaks harshly in your hands with a crisp snap. Noya doesn't speak, so you keep talking. "Otoo-san has barely looked at me ever since. I don't blame him. I swing between trying to get him to be my father again and just not giving a fuck."

"Holy shit, [name]-san."

"I thought the whole neighborhood knew I got my mom killed."

He shakes his head. "I had no idea. Fuck, I'm—I'm so sorry."

"Please," you say, voice too sharp and jagged. You have to pause before you try again. "Don't be."

"What should I be, then?"

You stare at him a long moment, not quite understanding the question.

"…I don't know."

He stands, joins you at the stove. You stare into the pot, skim the scum pointedly to avoid looking at him.

"You know it wasn't your fault, right?"

"They never caught the driver of the car. He slowed down a little bit, started to get out, and then saw me and sped off."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah."

There was love in this house once. It was real, and took work, and it was earned.

It was warm and comforting. It felt like a hug from behind, standing at the stove and dissolving blocks of curry roux into a pot. It felt like quiet acceptance, like choosing not to leave when the door wasn't locked and no one was stopping you. It was sitting up on the couch, waiting for someone to come home from wherever they'd been out late to make life good for everyone else in the house.

It felt like the secret moments behind the shift from a question—why—to a smile, a decision.

There are realities you have to accept, and as far as you're concerned, there's realities you don't. One of the former is your mom's absence, the love that left with her. Still another is the raw facts of this scene: mixing curry, adding too much spice and still not enough, sitting in the living room and talking and laughing with Noya as he tastes your curry and promptly lets a marriage proposal leave his lips, breezy, easy, familiar.

"Nine hundred sixty-one," you say with a smile.

One of the latter types of realities looks more like this: a warm feeling in your chest, a familiar flutter in your stomach. The heat of his arm on your shoulder, the persistence of the smile on your lips. Complaints about the spice of the curry hurting your split lip met with playful teasing that you'll still think about laying on your futon tonight, long after he's gone home.

And you'll need one damn good yes to accept a reality you don't have to.

Later, you'll feel hollowed out from the mood swings of the day. Tomorrow, you'll feel too wrung-out to get out of bed in the morning. Tonight, you just feel warm. So warm, in fact, that you're not even mad when he pulls out his phone and produces a video of you, half-asleep and pressed into his side on the bus a few hours earlier, as proof that actually, [name]-san, you'll find I only need to ask nine hundred and sixty more times.

Nine hundred and sixty it is.

Chapter Text

10 - write it again

Tanaka to [name] at 12:45

Tanaka: hey are you free? I talked to the third years about what happened last night and they wanted to talk to you

[name]: uh technically yes?

[name]: but I'm not at school today

Tanaka: oh

Tanaka: everything okay?

You sigh. Re-cross your legs on the couch, head tilted back over the arm. A moment's contemplation leads you to the conclusion that what you're willing to tell him is nothing.

[name]: yeah? I just didn't wanna go

[name]: don't YOU start riding me just because I got punched :P I get that enough from noya-senpai tyvm

Tanaka: the worry or the punching?

[name]: I think it's funnier if I say punching so let's go with the latter

Tanaka: unfortunately for you he just caught up to us. He's grumpy

[name]: ???

Tanaka: apparently the girl he likes isnt at school today or something so he has to settle for lunch with us single lameasses

Your phone buzzes with a text from another conversation. Predictably, it's Noya. You… don't really want to talk to him right now. The main reason you skipped school today was because you didn't want to face him after yesterday, after all.

[name]: uh-huh

[name]: I can say with a reasonable degree of confidence that he is ALSO single. Just for your reference

Tanaka: for how long? You spent, what, six hours cuddling each other yesterday and then walked home together?

[name]: I can

[name]: LITERALLY

[name]: see his house from where I'm sitting in my living room right now

Tanaka: ok and??? Kiyoko-san won't even walk two steps of the way home with literally any of the guys

[name]: do you have any idea how much work it would take for me to NOT walk home with noya-senpai

[name]: the stupid games I would have to go through to not be seen walking near his house

[name]: it'd be cruel at best for literally no reason and I don't have the energy for that shit

[name]: shimizu-senpai probably just doesn't wanna lead any of you guys on

Tanaka: …not to accuse you of anything but are you implying YOU'RE leading noya-san on???

[name]: first of all nothing before the word "but" actually matters, like, ever

[name]: second of all no

[name]: I've made myself very clear from the beginning and have not said or done anything I didn't mean

Tanaka: so the cuddling

[name]: I'm going to block you

Tanaka: no don't

Tanaka: but seriously, don't hurt him, alright?

Tanaka: he's a good guy

You pause. Sigh again.

He really, really is.

[name]: I know.

Before you can type a follow up, you receive three more texts from Noya in succession. Based on the notification previews, they're all Soba photos. You huff softly.

[name]: probably too good for me.

Tanaka: ?

[name]: you can tell the upperclassmen that if they wanna talk in person, I'll be at school tomorrow, but that kageyama hitting me was an accident, I'm not mad, and it's literally fine

Tanaka: wait let's circle back to that last text for a second

You consider blowing him off with an excuse, but…

Yeah, no. You swap over to the texts from Noya. Three new pictures of Soba.

Noya: [NAME]-SAN WHERE ARE YOUUUUU

Noya: [image attached. Image description: a very blurry closeup of Soba's ear.]

Noya: [image attached. Image description: Soba curled up on top of someone's hair, which is splayed on the floor around her head. If you remember correctly, the girl pictured is Satsuki, the youngest of Noya's older sisters. She appears to be near tears, ostensibly at the kitten sleeping in her hair.]

Noya: [image attached. Image description: Noya from behind and a distance away, hunched over a table. His face is not visible, but he is wearing a loose tank top which shows off his arms. Soba can be seen curled up in a ball on the back of his neck.]

You stifle fond laughter at the last photo, zooming in on Noya Soba. After a moment of staring, you move to type out a reply.

[name]: I skipped

[name]: I'm a rebel now

[name]: real bad influence

[name]: you should run before you get my bad reputation wrapped up in your perfect record

Noya: I CAN'T GO ALL DAY WITHOUT SEEING YOU I'M GONNA GET THE SHAKESSSS

Noya: I'VE BEEN SUSPENDED BEFORE YOU CAN ONLY IMPROVE MY RECORD

[name]: drugs are bad for you, senpai

[name]: if you're experiencing withdrawal symptoms I can only assume that you need time away from me to break the addiction

Noya: >:(

[name]: how do you always manage to send a different photo of soba? I'm checking my album of saved soba photos and you haven't sent a single repeat

Noya: I move them into a different folder once I send them to you

Noya: like I could EVER give you any less than the best

Noya: it's like you don't even know me

[name]: does this mean you're not gonna send me the ones you showed me on the bus??? :(

Noya: let me get on wi-fi and I will send you ALL of them

[name]: oh thank god. You scared me there

Noya: so if you've saved ALL the soba photos does that include the thirst trap?

Noya: because I can send you higher quality ones if you want

You roll your eyes and swap back to your texts with Tanaka.

Tanaka: you know he's crazy for you right?

[name]: do me a favor and punch him

Tanaka: you're dodging the question

[name]: *PLEASE* do me a favor and punch him?

Tanaka: we're with daichi-san he'll yell at me

[name]: I'll vouch for you

Tanaka: deal

~

In the middle of the third-year's floor, as Noya is switching between texting, presumably, you, and demanding the story of how Shouyo and Kageyama managed to send the VP's toupee flying while Noya was still suspended, Tanaka punches him in the shoulder hard enough that he nearly drops his phone.

"Dude!"

He holds up both hands, as if innocent. "[name]-san asked me to."

Noya glares, but he does not hit back, and even Daichi accepts the explanation with a raised eyebrow at Noya.

"Should I even ask what you did?"

"I'll have you know, I am innocent—"

"Sure you are."

~

You spend the rest of what would have been lunch period this way: texting Noya and Tanaka, ignoring the things they want you to focus on. Feeling the seeds of guilt sprout and wrap around your throat. They germinate properly over the rest of the day, until, by the time school lets out, you're choking, unable to make yourself focus even on pointless shit like the game you've been playing most of the day.

You need advice. You have no one. Who the fuck would you ask? You've got this weird complex about Yachi existing, not to mention she's clearly got zero experience dating. Any of the guys on the team are going to not only be clueless but likely jump right to whatever Noya's side is, not to mention likely tell him about it. Mom's dead. Dad doesn't care. You burned every single bridge possible from middle school, so the only people you could even consider to be friends are in the volleyball club.

…Shimizu probably knows at least one thing about guys, and she's not likely to talk about it to anyone who would mention it to Noya…

She'd given you her number early on, in case you need anything or have any questions. You haven't really used it, not wanting to bother her, but…

You have absolutely nowhere else to turn.

At the very least, it's right around the time classes would let out. You type out a message reaching out. Delete it. Type it again. Rinse and repeat the process a couple of times, getting no closer to a message you're satisfied with.²⁰

Before you can settle on and send something, there's a knock at your door, followed by a wailing "[name]-saaaaaan!" that drops your heart into your stomach. You could pretend not to be home. He wouldn't buy it, but he might at least get the message. Instead, your phone buzzes with a new text.

Noya: I KNOW YOU'RE HOME

Noya: OPEN THE DOOR I'M GOING TO DIE OUT HERE

You sigh and toss your phone aside. Answer the door with a looming sense of dread.

"Nishinoya-senpai."

The pitiful look on his face snaps away as he sees you—exasperated, visibly tired you, likely with bags under your eyes and a puffy face from crying you got done earlier in the day—and you raise an unimpressed eyebrow as he blushes. "Marry me," he blurts.

"Dare I ask why?"

"Please?"

"Nine fifty-nine."

He nods, swallows, eyes locked onto your legs, and—oh. That's why.

Part of skipping school meant no uniform, no long pants, no covering up, so here you are—oversized hoodie, short shorts that only just peek out from beneath its edges. You're showing as much leg as you can get away with while still technically wearing something other than underwear.

Face burning, you try to shut the door. Noya's fast, though, which you knew, and he catches it. "[name]-saaaan! Are you mad at me?" he whines.

You roll your eyes. "I'm not mad at you."

You should kick him out. Lock the door. Quit the club and never look at him again and lock yourself in your room and—

"Why'd you skip school, then?"

"Didn't feel like being alive today."

He studies you—the same quiet sort of look he got during the training camp, playing against tough teams. The focus of him trying to figure something out, you realize.

You sigh for the fiftieth time. "It was just a rough day."

"Wanna come see Soba, then?"

"I'm in my pajamas," you state bluntly.

"I mean, you can get changed if you want, but personally, I think they're cute. Also personally, I would enjoy getting to see you in this outfit for the next several hours and also the rest of my life. Marry me?"

You tug the ends of your hoodie down to cover your legs. "Either come inside or get off my porch so I'm not standing here in my PJs, and ask another nine hundred and fifty-eight times. But you should probably consider just giving up on me instead."

He strides inside, humming victoriously. You don't miss the way his eyes continue to linger on your legs.

Pervert.

"This again? I keep telling you, I'm not going anywhere. How's your lip doing?"

"It's not swollen anymore," you answer. He seriously breezed right past it. "I can't stop messing with it, though."

"Well, stop messing with it," he jokes. He flops down onto your couch, eyes dancing over you as you watch him. "Sure you don't wanna come pet my cat? She misses you."

"I dunno," you admit finally, shoulders dropping. "I was really planning on isolating myself from all of society and never going outside again."

"Why?"

A shrug. "Seems like the right course of action."

"Well, I think your plan sucks. Come pet my cat and play video games with me instead."

"You're starting to make me think that 'pet my cat' is a euphemism or something."

"Maybe. What's a euphemism again?"

"…if you don't know then I am not going to tell you."

"Then I'm gonna demand equivalent payment to knowledge."

"Demand all you want, but I still have to get changed if I'm coming over."

"Do you have to get changed if I stay here?" he asks, grinning. "Or do I have to take a picture?"

Your cheeks flare, and you find a throw pillow to—what else?—throw at him. "Shut up. I'm gonna go get dressed."

"You're the one who answered the door," he calls after you as you disappear down the hall.

On your way to get changed, you very briefly consider either wearing something particularly unflattering out of spite, or just going straight for murder. You end up doing neither and letting Noya lead you back to his house, to a warm place with a soft cat and people who come home.

~

This is how you spend the afternoon: the same oversized hoodie, shorts that are a more acceptable length. Soba comes out of hiding while you're wrecking house in a shooter that Noya had on deck and curls up in between the two of you, her head against your thigh and her back paws against Noya's. Between matches, you pause to take a picture of her and end up with two—one of her between you, one of a distracted Noya, his head turned to look at someone past you who's just stopped in the hallway to stare at you.

A girl stands there, staring at you incredulously. You recognize her, you realize: not just from a couple of Soba pictures you've seen or been sent, but the Karasuno uniform really helps you contextualize her. A third year you've seen around, with long black hair, a bleach-blonde streak in her bangs that you've envied in passing when you've caught sight of her.

And, now that you have both the context of her standing in Noya's living room and can compare them directly, so undeniably a Nishinoya that you're not sure how you didn't make the connection sooner.

She stares at you for a second. Looks at Noya. "…holy shit. I dunno what's freaking me out more right now: the fact that Jii-chan was not joking about the cute girl you brought home, or the fact that Soba is even willing to exist in the same room as her."

You stifle a laugh. He grabs at his chest in dramatic offense, moreso at your laughter than at his apparent sister's implication that he wouldn't be able to bring a girl over. "Uh, sorry for the intrusion," you say, hand pressed against your mouth.

She shakes her head. "Don't mind me. I'm just here to bully Yuu. Speaking of, Yuu, I seriously thought Jii-chan was lying when he said you'd had a girl over the other day."

"Why does everyone act like it's so impossible a girl might give me the time of day?"

You rest your chin in your hand, smile smugly at him over the Soba gap. "I wonder."

The girl laughs. "I like her already. I'm Satsuki, by the way. Thanks for putting up with my little brother. And somehow getting him to study. I heard he actually didn't fail his exams this time around."

Score. You're one for one on correctly remembering which sister is which. You steal a chip from Noya with a grin. "Nice to meet you. No need to thank me, though."

"You don't get to tease me for not studying when you never study," Nishinoya fires back at her. "Come back when you sit down with flashcards."

"Ooh, flashcards. I don't study because I don't need to. Unlike you, I pay attention in class and actually remember things that are told to me."

"I remember things!" he protests. "I remember all kinds of things!"

"Right, sure, yeah. Remind me, what'd you get on your last quiz?"

"…a 48," he admits lamely.

"Wait, really?" you perk up. "That's amazing! Wasn't your quiz before that like, a 32?"

"Uh, yeah. But that's still not exactly great—"

You throw a chip at him without thinking. It misses entirely. "Shush. That's a massive improvement. You're doing great."

"…damn. I really like her. Hey, are you single?" Satsuki grins at you.

You roll your eyes. "We're now two-for-three on family members trying to set me up with a certain someone, but yes, I am, in fact, single."

Her eyes flick to Nishinoya. Her grin widens. "You like girls?"

"Satsuki!"

…oh. You freeze to the spot. She's just… asking that? Outright? "I, um…"

"First of all, I obviously have dibs," Noya snaps. You eye him nervously, looking for anything like disgust or discomfort, but all you're getting is indignation. "Second of all, off-limits. Whoever your next messy breakup is, it's not involving my friends, thanks."

"Fine, fine," Satsuki says, waving a hand as she cuts through the room. "Best of luck with that one, but if you break up, I'm going for it."

When she's left, you sigh, eyeing Nishinoya nervously. Your reaction was maybe a bit too obvious—there's no way he doesn't figure you out now.

"Sorry," he sighs. "She didn't make you uncomfortable, did she?"

"N-no, um—it's fine."

He studies you a moment, sets his controller aside. "Wait, is that why you keep mentioning that I should give up? Are you…?"

There it is. The second of many things you really didn't want brought up. "If you're gonna tell everyone, just let me know now so I can quit the club."

"I'm not—look, it isn't—" He sighs. "If you're gay, I should actually give up. I'm not a complete asshole, you know."

"I don't—it's not—I don't really know?" you admit, voice small. "I mean, I knew I liked girls. I had a girlfriend back in middle school. Well, we weren't dating dating, but she was, you know, we did stuff together. And it was fun and I liked her a lot, and then my mom died and she like—we just—we broke up. And now I'm in high school and I do whatever I want because Otoo-san doesn't give a shit what I do and what I want is to just not think about it. So I haven't."

"Can you think about it? If I have to become a girl for you to marry me, I need to start planning."

You let out a surprised laugh. "Don't, oh my god."

"But [name]-san," he pouts.

Your expression shifts into something mischievous as the tension bleeds away. "Give me one good reason why, assuming I'm gay, I wouldn't just go for your hot sister instead."

Noya launches himself at you, sending Soba yowling her displeasure as she bolts from the space between you. "Take it back!"

"Never!" You wrestle him right back, unable to contain your laughter, until the two of you tumble off the couch with a thump, Noya landing on top of you. For half a moment, it's suggestive, and then he's right back to making you laugh and squirm to get out of his hold. "Lemme goooo!"

"Not until you take it back!"

"I'm right—"

"Wow," Satsuki snorts as she cuts back through the room, now equipped with a can of soda. "Hey, [name]-chan, right? I think that's what Yuu was calling you. Are you completely sure you're single?" She cracks open the soda with a pshh, takes a slow sip as the pair of you freeze.

You'd already forgotten she was home.

You splutter, try to shove your way out of Noya's arms. "Just because I'm under attack does not make me in a relationship, thank you very much!"

"Right." She raises an eyebrow at you. "Well, far be it from me to define your relationship or proclaimed lack thereof. Just, you know, maybe don't go getting pinned down by guys unless you don't mind people thinking you're together. That's all."

"Oh, believe me, if I'd had any warning he would be the one on the floor right now," you grumble.

She snorts. "You're confident. I'd kinda like to see you kick someone's ass. Might be kinda—"

"Satsuki if you finish that sentence I swear to god—" Noya interrupts.

She exits swiftly, laughter echoing behind her. For a moment, the pair of you sit there in silence, staring at each other. Noya's expression is one of transcendent blankness. You're reminded of the calm before the storm, the look in a baby animal's eyes before it does something it's just learned it shouldn't, and then he's tackling you again.

When the dust settles, you feel bubbly and light, the impossible weight of the morning nearly forgotten. Noya helps you back onto the couch, and you settle back into games to fill the space, both with stupid smiles on your lips that won't seem to fade. As the time stretches closer to when you should go home—not to intrude on dinner with his family—your mind lingers on the question, and when you've decided it's time to leave, he derails your train of thought completely.

"I'm bi, you know," he says suddenly, eyes focused on the screen.

You pause, looking at him with a deer-in-headlights expression. "Huh?"

"I'm bi. Dudes are hot. Girls are really hot. Also, I got you."

Your attention snaps back to the screen as Noya executes your character with a well-aimed headshot. Your jaw drops. "Did you just fucking—come out to me so you could finally get a kill in!?"

"A little," he shrugs. He fails to hide his smug expression. "I mean, I also just wanted you to know, but just look at that replay! That was a beautiful shot, if I do say so myself."

You have half a mind to bash his head in with the controller. Everyone should applaud your restraint. "I cannot believe you."

"Please believe me. I actually am bisexual."

Both controllers are set aside now, the lobby music filling the space as you take it in. "…who knows?"

"Mei does. Satsuki and Kaede, too. Soba was the first one I told. I haven't really brought it up to Jii-chan or Okaa-san, but I'm pretty sure they'd be cool with it. I mean, Satsuki came out basically the second she figured out she was gay, and they don't treat her any different. Okaa-san's even super nice and welcoming to Satsuki's girlfriends, even though we haven't really liked any of them so far."

Notably absent from the list: anyone from school.

"The guys don't know?"

He shrugs. "I don't really want to risk them not thinking they can trust me."

Oh. Oh.

"Oh, Noya," you breathe. "You don't think any of 'em are…"

"I dunno. My two modes are really 'don't worry about it' or 'go all-in', but Mei got me thinking about what would happen if they aren't all chill, and… I dunno. It pisses me off to not tell 'em, but it'd piss me off more if volleyball stopped being fun."

You grip the fabric of your shorts, toying with the hem in hopes of tying your thoughts together. "How'd you know? That you were bi, I mean."

He leans back casually, smiling when Soba returns to leap onto his lap. Apparently, she's finally forgiven you both for your earlier transgressions. Your eyes linger on his easy posture, the way he pets Soba as he slings an arm over the back of the couch and thinks. "Asahi-san and Ryuu, mostly."

"…but you just said no one on the team—ohh."

He nods, flashes an almost sheepish grin. His cheeks are faintly pink, and you're reminded of the way your eyes used to linger on Kasumi, not quite wanting to stray away.

You stifle a laugh. "I'm not making fun of you, I just—your type is either 'big shy sweet teddy bear' or 'kind-hearted delinquent'? What's the connection there?"

He flushes harder. "Look—"

"Wait, I got it. Wing spikers."

He shoves your shoulder as you laugh harder. "Oh, you shush. What's your type, then?"

"Cool and pretty," you reply automatically. "And good hair. Ideally soft."

"Oh, good. I know a guy."

You roll your eyes. You know exactly where he's going with that. "Uh-huh. I'm sure. Go on? I'm kind of in the middle of a bisexual crisis right now."

"Fine, fine. So I basically knew I liked girls from, like, pretty early on. See girl, girl pretty, like girl. You know?"

You nod sagely. "Easy enough."

"And so I'm playing volleyball, having a good time, going to high school and having fun, and just… really enjoying the moments where I just get to look at Asahi-san as he's going for a spike, or when Ryuu is hyping me up, and it's different. You know?"

"I… don't really get it," you sigh. "Like, I feel like I do, I just… I dunno."

But then you think of the Soba photos you've favorited, the ones where you zoom in not on Soba but on her owner, and something clicks a little bit. The inability to tear your eyes away when the entire team decides to just openly strip their shirts off. The way your eyes catch on nice shoulders, arms, backs, and linger too long there, and the pulling feeling in your stomach when you look too long or your mind wanders.

Whatever face journey you're going on, Noya grins as he watches it, posture languid as you arrive at a deeply unfortunate conclusion.

"Okay, so maybe I like men."

"So maybe you're bisexual."

"So maybe I am."

"So you'll marry me, right?"

"Maybe if you hit your quota."

"I can arrange that."

Chapter Text

11 - SCAT2²¹

Q1. Can you tell me what happened?

Takeda is here, in front of you. It takes you too long to process him, too long to process Noya beside you, a hand on your shoulder. Longer to come up with an answer. What you settle on, and utterly fail to get your brain to communicate a single word of, is this:

Recently, the noise a volleyball makes when it hits the floor is one you've started to like. It's good. It's hollow. When the gym's quiet, it echoes. When it's noisy, it blends in seamlessly. Off a body, it's a duller sound, and you imagine that has to do with as much of the noise coming from the surface it impacts as it does the ball itself. Right now, the sound you're picturing, your most recent memory, is close to your ear. It's hollow. It echoes. You try to piece together what it was impacting off of, but it's hard to think, because your head fucking hurts.

It doesn't just hurt: it throbs; it pounds; it aches, and the more it aches the more you can't place why it aches, but you should know, shouldn't you? Weren't you there?

The thought pisses you off, and the madder you get, the more it throbs-pounds-aches-threatens to split in half entirely.

If you focus on the pinprick split where your consciousness is begging to fold over, you have the vaguest idea of walking into the gym with someone. Of shouting, of everyone around you, shouting shouting shouting they won't shut up—

Then, your Senpai there, crouching in front of you. Always there.

Oh. Crouching. If he's crouching, eye level, that puts you on the floor.

When you tug on the memory, you have to bite your lip something awful, but there's more there: someone—people—crying. Yachi, Hinata, both in tears as they stand behind your Senpai. Sawamura, yelling louder than you've ever heard him, ordering everyone to stop crowding her—you?—and pinching your skull like a dull pair of scissors.

Your scalp is too tight, a pair of jeans you should have known better than to try and squeeze into, the fabric straining more and more over the thighs and waist with every continued raised voice.

The millionth I'm sorry from Hinata's lips had you snapping, voice thick with tears as you begged for everyone to stop yelling. It's desperate. Pathetic. Not you at all.

Everything too loud, too bright, and you're not sure if it's you or the memory of you lurching with nausea and pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes in vain, desperate hopes of making it all stop stop stop—

Takeda repeats the question in a gentle voice. "[surname]-chan. Can you tell me what happened?"²⁵

"Think I died," you manage to grit out. The words are there, the explanations, the details, but they're heavy and you're not sure you can lift them.

A nervous laugh. "Can you tell me anything else?"

You shake your head. Takeda looks to someone else—your Senpai, your Noya—for the answer. "What happened before I got here?"

His voice is too firm and too quiet when he answers. Angry and cold and so, so unlike him. You wish you could focus on the words long enough to catch what he has to say.

Takeda makes a note, looks you over. Asks you some other question that doesn't matter—something about a pain in your neck, which you don't have, or if you do, you can't feel it over the fucking parasite trying to burst out from inside your skull.

Then—

"Alright. I need to ask you a few questions. [surname]-chan—"

Q2. Where are we?

Thinking about it isn't doing you any favors, but you can follow the logic for an easy enough answer. Takeda-sensei, Noya, your boys from the club—

"The," you start, then stop and lean over your knees. "The school. Right?"

That has to be it. Everyone's school people, except Noya, who's an always people, but everyone else is school people. Not even just school people. They're also—

"T-the gym."

Another nod, another note, an assurance that you're doing great. A hand on your shoulder, thumb rubbing soothing circles that seem to be the only thing keeping your soul in your body at this moment in time.

Q3. What time is it?

You're pretty sure you answered something. When you drag your eyes up to look at Takeda—squinting through lights too bright—his expression is worried. You suppose you might also have not actually said anything. It's getting hard to tell.

"How about the day? Can you tell me what day it is?"

"August," you blurt. "August fifth."

Beside you, Noya cringes. That must not be right, then.

Takeda rattles off a few more questions. You don't recall them, or your responses—maybe a balance test, maybe something with remembering a list of words. Just that, at the end of it, he gives you this worried look and speaks in that same gentle tone.

"[surname]-chan, I'm worried that you have a concussion. I'm going to call your parents to take you to the hospital, alright?"

Oh.

…oh.

Your eyes find Noya, distressed and pathetic. You're not sure what you're looking for from him. He gives it to you anyway.

"Shoot, that might be a problem," he says hurriedly. "She was telling me yesterday that her dad had a big business trip he was leaving for today. Something super important for work, right, [name]-san?"

You nod slowly.

"I think he's on a flight right now, actually. You're not gonna get him on the phone."

Takeda frowns. "That'll be a problem. Is she staying with anyone while he's away?"

"Not directly, but she's right down the street from me, and Okaa-san's pretty close with her dad. I can give you her number; she sort of keeps an eye on [name]-san whenever her dad has to go out of town."

It's a lie, probably, but at the very least, you don't have to corroborate a thing. If they make you speak one more sentence, you're throwing up right here and no one is stopping you.

"Thank you, Nishinoya-kun. I'll call your mom. Will you take [surname]-chan to sit outside for now?"

You let him help you up; let him guide you.

Outside, there are birds calling, and their voices, too, are far too loud.

~

Every time Nishinoya Rina's work phone rings with a call from the school, her lungs deflate like a stuck balloon. For a few brief years, it was easier to deal with: at least Yuu and Satsuki were at different schools. At least she knew which of her kids had caused an issue before she picked up the phone.

Statistically speaking, it'll be Satsuki. Yuu's usually the good one, barring those times his tempers or passions get out of hand. One of her friends—estranged now—had always told her how much more wild boys were, but as wild as Yuu is, Rina's never taken a phone call about him sending a classmate to the hospital. It's Satsuki who likes to fight, Satsuki who doesn't have incentive enough to keep her temper in check. It's also Satsuki who likes to fight her brother's fights for him—he's got volleyball, and her favorite sport is trying to get away with fights—and Satsuki who she's let think she doesn't know about every single one, because the poor girl needs an outlet and punishing her will make it worse.

In the time it takes for Rina to get the housewife at her register rung out, the phone has stopped ringing. The woman—Yanagi, a regular, stops in once a week or so for meat for the husband and kids—tuts softly at her expression. "Another call from the school, Nishinoya-san?"

Rina winces. She's never been good at this part of customer service—the endlessly bright, shining face that comes so naturally to most of the rest of her family. "Is it that easy to tell?"

"Satsuki-chan must still be making trouble. You know, if that girl had a strong father figure in her life, I bet she'd come around. Do you know Nakamura-san? I heard he's looking for a wife, and you're still young!"

Only two years younger than her, Rina wants to say, and her kids are doing much better without a father in their lives. Instead, she forces a well-practiced smile. The shop is built on regular customers, after all. "I've got my hands full with the teenagers, Yanagi-san," she replies as the phone begins to ring again. Still Karasuno High School on the caller ID. Still a problem with one of her kids. "I don't really have much time to think about a second husband. Not to mention, who'd be here to slice up pork for your kids if I'm running around with some Nakamura-san?"

Yanagi laughs, saunters towards the door. "If you ever change your mind, let me know and I'll get you his number! You'd better see what your daughter's done this time."

As the front bell rings, Rina snatches up the phone with force enough to break it.

"Hello?" she says, then cringes: her voice came out too harsh, too clipped. Yanagi put her in a bad mood. She needs to learn to control her voice better.

"Excuse me, is this Nishinoya-san? This is Takeda, from Karasuno High School."

"Yes, this is her speaking. Is this about Yuu, or Satsuki?"

"Well, actually, there was an incident during volleyball practice this afternoon, and—"

Oh. Oh shit. It's actually Yuu this time.

Not only is that an insane turn of events, it's deeply concerning.

"—[surname]-chan, one of our managers, was hit in the head with a volleyball and is showing signs of a concussion. Nishinoya-kun mentioned that you're neighbors, and her father is out of town, but that you'd been asked to keep an eye on her in case anything happened. I would strongly recommend that [surname]-chan be taken to the hospital, but without her father available, I'll have to defer to you…"

Rina is silent for a long moment. Part of it is the relief: Satsuki didn't get into any fights, and Yuu hasn't shoved any more members of the faculty in the halls. Another part: the concern, different from its initial form, but still very present.

No one mentioned a word to her about looking after anyone else's kids, but she knows the [surname] name. She's heard it—first in whispers, then spoken aloud from customers and neighbors after enough weeks had passed—all in the context of a hit-and-run incident, but she's certain the only family member she'd ever spoken to would be the mother, now dead. The father, she hasn't seen since then, and she's not quite sure she even knows what the daughter looks like.

In other words, the girl in question is a mixed-up kid who's lying about her father and needs to go to the hospital.

Rina's hands are already on the box of gloves as she comes to a response.

"Thank you for calling. I don't have any staff at the shop—please give me a moment to get everything closed down and I'll take her to the hospital. How is she doing?"

"She's very disoriented. I believe she's understanding everything I'm saying, but she doesn't seem to want to say much. From what Nishinoya-kun has told me, she's very sensitive to noise right now."

"I understand. I'll be there as soon as possible."

When she hangs up, she moves as fast as she can. The open sign is flipped; she scribbles out a sign to post on the door apologizing for the inconvenience. The meats of the day are moved to the walk-in cooler, things are wiped down with a speed she's grown proud of in the years since she took over the shop. She shoves the cash drawer into the safe, misses the apron hook, and as she locks the front door, she locks eyes with an approaching customer—old Mister Watanabe, pries too much and has known her since grade school.

"Oh, are you closing for the day already, Rina-chan? Early, isn't it?"

She flashes an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. If you call the shop and leave a message, I'll have everything packed up for you bright and early tomorrow morning, Watanabe-san. There's been a family emergency."

~

Noya gets permission to stay with you. It takes one look of actual concern to get permission for it, and he doesn't even have to ask. Not that anyone needs a reason for someone to stay—you're only half-there, have to be cajoled into focusing long enough to hold conversation. He's pretty sure it's more from pain than anything—the way you wince when anyone speaks, the way you hold your head. You bury your face in his shoulder, not for comfort, but, it seems, to block out some of the light, and he holds you close in a vain attempt to soothe you.

He wasn't involved in the spike that took you out, but it's still his fault. Had he moved faster, he could have gotten in front of it, could have done some dashing move to prevent your shit from getting wrecked before afternoon practice can even really start.

His mom shows up in record time, talks to Takeda for a bit before all three of you pile into her car. Yachi brought him your bag and clothes from the changing room, so you should be all set to go, and she also promised to keep notes for you until you're back at school. No one has any illusions about that being this week.

Noya sits in the back seat with you while his mom drives. She lasts several minutes of silence before addressing the issue properly.

"So… [surname]-chan, was it?" she asks quietly. Takeda-sensei must have given her the memo about your being sensitive to noise. "You're Yuu's friend?"

You nod weakly. "I-I, um. Down the street?"

"She lives a few doors down from us," Noya translates. He meets her eyes in the rear-view mirror, silently pleading: don't bring up her family.

Mom listens. She's cool like that.

"Well, we'll get you brought to the hospital. How long is your father going to be away?"

"Don't remember."

"You can stay with us, then. Your Sensei is pretty certain you have a concussion, and if the one Kaede had is anything to go by, the doctors aren't going to want you to go home alone for your own sake. She had to spend a little while being monitored to make sure everything was alright."

You jerk, mouth snapping open to reply, only to cut off in a wince. Noya rubs your shoulder soothingly.

"I know, honey. It's not ideal, but I'm a mother, you know? I can't let you go home to an empty house with an injury like that. How are you going to eat and take care of yourself alone?"

You press your lips together firmly, more stray tears slipping down your cheeks. Noya digs out his handkerchief and offers it to you.

"Hurts," you whimper, and his heart breaks.

"I know. We're getting you taken care of, okay?" he murmurs to you, too soft for Mom to hear.

You nod.

The rest of the car ride is relatively quiet. After a bit, you rest your head on his shoulder, dabbing at your cheeks periodically with his handkerchief.

Mom raises an eyebrow when she spots it, but she doesn't say a word.

~

Yuu's… friend? Girlfriend? …is loud about her protests to the diagnosis, Rina notes after several hours at the hospital. Wordier than the car ride, clearly wants to just go home, but, well…

It's a yes to the concussion, and a no to going home without an observation period. They want to keep you overnight and well into tomorrow—24 hours of monitoring in total—which works out, because Rina's not letting you alone until you're actually cleared to return to some amount of activity, and there's a lot she left undone at the shop that she'll need to circle back around for, like prepping for Watanabe's order and cleaning more thoroughly. Or else, Dad might be up for taking over for a day or two while she watches you—she's not so sure about having him watch over you, but if he can take over the shop, she can stay home, and no one misses out on meat for the week. You're clearly upset about it, but Yuu whispered something to you which calmed you just enough to let Rina feel good leaving you for the night.

She'd taken Yuu home to sort out the mess in the kitchen, where she now sits, watching him pace around the table. Soba's taken up residence on top of the fridge, eyes tracking him as he goes. Between her and Soba, she's not sure the last time either of them saw him so upset.

"Yuu, honey, sit down," Rina says gently.

"Can't. She's gonna be alright, right?"

She nods. "That's why they're keeping her overnight. So she will be alright."

"Okay, but why do they think she needs to be watched so long?"

"It's normal for a concussion. You were too young to remember, but Kaede had to do the same thing."

"Nee-san did? How'd she get a concussion?"

Rina cringes. "It was… a rough time. Better that you don't remember."

His eyes harden in understanding, footsteps slowing to a stop.

Every day, it gets harder to address Yuu and Satsuki about their father. In theory, they're too young to remember much, and someday, she'll have to sit them down and tell them the story in full so they understand, but not here. Not now. Satsuki certainly remembers enough to be affected, and with the way Yuu looks at her now, he knows enough that they can save the conversation for another day. Some other time, maybe, when Yuu's girlfriend isn't laying in a hospital bed and when Yuu's not busy wearing a new path into the tile floor.

Not today.

He sits, and she stares him down. "So, tell me about your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend," he says reflexively.

She raises an eyebrow. His shoulders drop a little.

"…yet. But I'm gonna marry her someday."

Rina laughs, shoulders dropping a bit. That's a bit more like her son. "Does she know that?"

"Of course! I've proposed to her almost a hundred times already. I really think she's coming around to the idea."

"I'd expect no different from you," she says with a good-natured sigh. "What's the real reason your teacher's calling me about her, and not her father?"

"I guess you know about what happened with her mom?"

She knows the rumors. It was all her customers wanted to talk about for weeks at the shop—such a tragedy, poor girl had to watch her mom die, the man didn't even stop—but she'd been busy that day, hadn't been home to see it happen.

She vaguely remembers coming home with groceries to see flashing lights on the street and panicking, thinking one of her kids had gotten caught up in something. Remembers the all-consuming guilt that had overtaken her at the thought that oh, good, all my kids are okay on hearing that a woman had died, that a girl almost her son's age had to watch it happen. "More or less. Her father's still around, right?"

"Not really. She just told me about it the other day. He comes home super late, barely even looks at her if he is home early enough to see her. She's been basically on her own this whole time."

"So he's not actually on a business trip."

"He isn't."

"So you lied to Takeda-sensei."

"Look, [name]-san is—she doesn't need to deal with trying to navigate the school asking questions about her dad while she's got a concussion, and I don't think she really wants it brought up. It took a lot just for her to mention it to me, and she really only did it because she thought I already knew. I'm not gonna turn around and immediately tell Sensei that her home life's screwed up. She'll never trust me again like that. I'm not even sure she really trusts me now."

"So her father's neglecting her."

"She has, like, food and stuff. He gave her a debit card to use for groceries and all that. He just… won't talk to her. Won't spend any time around her. She's mostly managing the team to get out of the house because she doesn't want to come home, so I try to do what I can to keep her busy. She doesn't smile very much." He pauses. "She's really lonely."

Rina's heart cracks a little. It makes sense—she knows where else she's seen you. You come into the butcher shop sometimes, buy the cheapest meats not with a sense of desperation but with a look of guilt. You don't make conversation. You don't do much more than speak when spoken to, ask for the meat you're after, and smile a polite little smile that never seems to reach your eyes. Just a can I get a pound of this cut? and a thank you very much when everything's wrapped up and paid for. Once or twice, a how much of this do you think would be good for two people for a week? The split in your lip was new, but it hadn't been the first time you'd come into the shop with some kind of visible bruise or another.

"She's going to stay with us at least until the concussion starts clearing up. I'm not letting that girl go home without someone to take care of her. What does she like to eat?"

Yuu's brow furrows as he thinks it over. "She likes sweet things. I don't think she's very picky, either." A pause. A flash of realization. "She likes karaage, I think. And curry, but we just had that the other night. I think she's still eating the same batch. She might appreciate something different."

Rina smiles. "'We'?"

His cheeks are pink when he replies, "When we got back from the training camp. She made curry while telling me about her family, and I stayed for dinner. She's a really good cook."

"She sounds like a sweet girl. There's some things I need to handle before picking her up tomorrow; you can either come with me back to the shop to do prep for tomorrow, or you can stay here and make sure the guest futon is clean and dry for her. I don't think it's a good idea for you to be without a task right now, though."

He nods. He gets extra restless, sometimes, and somehow she gets the weird sense that if she leaves him without something to occupy him, she'll come back to the house on fire or receive a call that Yuu has broken into the hospital after visiting hours. "I think I'll stay here and make things ready for her."

"I'll make a list for you, then."

They sit down together like that for a bit, making a list—what to clean tonight, how to make her comfortable, who to ask to borrow what (Satsuki's clothes if she's not comfortable with Yuu's or sending someone to grab some from her place, Mei's shower stuff). Yuu's never been great keeping tasks straight in his head, never been the best at focusing, but that's why the list—whatever he gets done will be a help, and whatever he doesn't, they can tackle together when she's home from the shop. She'll talk to the girls tonight, talk to Dad when she can. Tomorrow, she'll take Yuu with her back to pick you up from the hospital, and it'll all work out somehow.

That's all it needs to do.

Chapter Text

12 - get your brain back

Noya to [name] at 23:49

Noya: [image attached. Image description: Soba as a kitten, curled up in the center of a futon. Her body forms a perfectly circular shape.]

Noya: hope everything's okay at the hospital.

Noya: here's soba stealing my futon when she was a kitten. hope she brings a little luck so you can sleep half as good as she does

Noya: might be difficult though, she's a good sleeper

~

Noya to [name] at 00:01

Noya: usually i'm a good sleeper too [message not sent]

~

Noya to [name] at 6:48

Noya: [image attached. Image description: Soba laying on her back in the traditional maneki-neko pose, stomach exposed with one paw up and the other curled against her chest. Her stomach is composed primarily of extreme fluff.]

Noya: a good luck soba to encourage your swift recovery

~

[name] to Noya at 7:03

[name]: :)

~

Noya to [name] at 7:10²⁷

Noya: [name]-san WHAT are you doing looking at your phone

Noya: the doctors said no screens! >:(

[name]: only if it asorsens my sympotoims

[name]: soba could NEVER do that tom e

[name]: sorry for yops im reading your texts and then reponsding without looking so im not using up m screntime

Noya: you're supposed to be RESTING!!!

[name]: was

[name]: yop ten worst ways to wake up

[name]: number one; forgetting to tunr off your wakeup alarm so yup get up at like six thirty in the fucking am with the worst heaxache youve had in your life and your phone screaming in your ear

[name]: tried fo r abit to get back to sleep but mostly ive just been trying to recover from the fucking wakeup alarm

Noya: oh my god

Noya: can you take phone calls? I don't wanna make your head worse

[name]: one sec

~

Noya's in the gym, but practice isn't for another twenty minutes, technically, and he's not sure anyone will blame him for having his phone this morning, let alone when he answers on the first ring. At worst, he gets a raised eyebrow from Chikara, but when he speaks in a soft, worried tone, it's immediately brushed off.

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

Your voice comes through a moment later. It's strained, and he's almost certain you've been crying, but he elects not to comment. "I'm alright, but I died."

He laughs softly, scurrying outside of the gym so he has room to pace. "You're doing better, then."

"Mm. Head still hurts like hell, but I haven't had any like… major events to justify keeping me here. They'll probably let me out on time."

"That's great! Other than the alarm incident, did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah, actually." You pause. For some reason, he holds his breath. "I guess Soba helped. Thanks."

"Of course. Listen, though, Okaa-san's not budging on you staying with us, at least until you're able to return to school and stuff. She wants to know what you want for dinner tonight."

Another pause. "Karaage. Is she… I mean… is she cool?"

He nods, forgetting for a moment that you can't see him. "She is. She raised me, you know."

A soft laugh comes through, barely picking up. "She must be really cool then."

"She's got a few options for you for how we're handling everything, but I think she's gonna talk to you more about those when we pick you up from the hospital. For now, you just focus on trying to rest, alright?"

There's a voice in the background—no one he recognizes, not that he would—that he can't quite make out, just as Ryuu's head pokes out of the gym to grab him.

"Practice is starting," Ryuu says in a low voice. Noya nods, gestures to the phone and holds up a single finger. That's all it takes to get a nod of understanding in reply.

He waits patiently until you're done talking to the stranger—your voice pitches into a whine, all I know, I'm sorry, just let me say goodbye first, a bit muffled with a shuffling sound that makes him think you're covering the speaker with one hand.

Another shuffle, and you return to him. "Okay, sorry—"

"I have to go," the two of you say in unison.

You huff. "Are you just trying to make me feel better for leaving?"

"No. Practice is starting. Ryuu just came to get me."

"…right. That was a nurse on my end. They're yelling at me for getting out of bed when I'm still unsteady. Is it just your mom coming to pick me up later?"

"I'm gonna head out early to come with her."

"Senpai…"

"Lecture me when you're not getting lectured by nurses for slipping out of bed," he replies, cheeky.

"…fine. Make sure to tell me about practice later, okay? And tell Yachi-san and Shimizu-senpai I'm sorry I'm not there to help out, but I'll be back soon. And tell Hinata I died. And—"

He cuts you off with a laugh. "I'll tell them all that. You go rest."

When the both of you hang up, he takes the time to send another picture of Soba—this one asleep, covering her face with her paws—and runs inside, tucking his phone away to join practice.

~

Noya and his mom arrive to pick you up at hour 24 on the dot, and you have never been more excited to see a soul in your life. You're checked out, brought back to Noya's. His mom doesn't say much to you on the drive back, and you regret to admit that you don't really remember much of meeting her yesterday.

Noya is the one who fills the silence for the most part—he tells you all about how practice today went, the blow-by-blow of their little scrimmages, how he started working on the thing he was telling you about yesterday.

You blink at him blankly. "I, uh… sorry, but I gotta ask. I remember almost nothing from yesterday…"

"Oh! I'll show you a video when we get back—I mean, if your head can handle a few minutes with a screen," he adds, glancing nervously at the sharp look his mom is giving him in the rear-view.

One of many restrictions: you're not allowed screens. Or reading. Or thinking. Or fun. Also, no exercise, no texting (not even without looking at the screen, your nurse had chided after you'd tried to respond to your bonus morning Soba), and basically anything involving any amount of focus. They'd had the audacity to follow that up with oh, but you'll make things worse if you rest completely without doing anything at all, so you can still do things!. In other words:

• if something hurts, don't do it
• do not take painkillers for the hurt
• everything hurts
• doing nothing will make things worse and cause recovery to take longer

Or, in still other words: you expect to experience a complete mental breakdown by the end of the day.

You meet Noya's mom's eyes in the rear-view again. You don't remember what you said to her yesterday, but you do recognize her as the lady who runs your butcher shop of choice. You might need to start getting your meat somewhere else.

"Um," you say, voice coming out weaker than you'd like. "Thank you for all this, ma'am. I'm sorry for the trouble."

She waves one hand dismissively as she pulls into your neighborhood. "Don't even mention it, sweetheart. We'll talk more once we're inside."

"But…"

A single firm look shuts you up.

How Noya got to be the way he is with a mom like that, you'll never understand.

"Oh, that reminds me," Noya blurts suddenly. "You don't remember what happened, right?"

You shake your head. "I mostly remember stuff after it… I think? It's all kinda soup right now."

"Shouyo was trying to sync up with Suga-san. He, uh, he managed to hit a spike, but it was a little out."

"A little."

"Just a bit."

"It's kind of impressive. I mean, I knew you guys—or I guess everyone else, you being a libero and all—hit hard, but Hinata's got an arm on him to concuss me like that."

The car slows to a stop as Noya laughs. He seems to be making an effort to be quieter than normal—you appreciate the thought. "Right? Poor Yachi-san's gonna be shaking like a leaf while you're out, though."

"I'm counting on Shimizu-senpai to keep her from getting her head taken off," you reply with a solemn nod, moving to get out of the car.

Noya stops you with a firm hand. "Wait here. I got you."

"I can walk, you know—"

"If the way you got out of the hospital was any sign, not well," he says. He zips out of the car, circles around so fast that anyone else probably would have tripped. You sigh, smiling, as he opens your door for you. "C'mon, let me help you."

"Fine, fine. You're ridiculous, you know that?"

Still, you let him guide you inside, an arm supporting you at the waist. You won't lie—you are really dizzy still. He brings you into the living room, taking slow, careful steps as you pass the kitchen by. Someone's inside, cooking something, based on the sizzle from within, but Noya takes you right on past to sit across from his mom, who's still pretty staunchly silent as she watches this take place.

Out of the context of the butcher shop, she makes you deeply nervous, itching for her approval.

You blurt the first thing that comes to mind.

"I really like your shop. It's always very clean."

She cracks a smile. "Thank you, [surname]-chan. I'm glad to know that one of my regulars thinks highly of the shop."

"And the prices are really good. And you're always really nice, but it doesn't feel forced. I'm sorry that sometimes I buy too much and the meat goes bad. I always feel really guilty when that happens, like I'm insulting the animal it came from and the person I bought it from, not to mention—"

She stifles a laugh. "Honey, it's okay. I'm sorry if I'm making you nervous. To be honest, I've been thinking about your situation since I got the call yesterday, and I'm still not sure what the right thing to do is."

The words your situation send your heart straight into the deepest pits of your stomach. "Oh."

Noya's sat firmly beside you, a small comfort as your anxiety begins to spike. His mom locks eyes with him, jerking her chin toward the kitchen. "Yuu, honey, go help Mei in the kitchen."

"But, Okaa-san—"

"Go help Mei," she repeats.

You have half a mind to run out after him, half a mind to grab his sleeve and beg, Noya-senpai, don't leave me alone with her!, but you know it wouldn't do a thing. Instead, you stare at your lap, willing your bottom lip not to quiver.

"Yuu told me a little bit about your situation," she goes on to say.

That fucking phrase again.

"He didn't tell me much, and he's made clear that you don't want anyone to worry about you, or any sort of special treatment, but I want to make clear: I'm not here to upend your life or force anything on you, but you're safe here. Will you tell me what's going on at home?"

You bite your lip to remind yourself not to cry out the gate. "I'd rather not."

"That's okay. I understand that I'm more or less a stranger to you. I don't need details from you, or a life story. But—look at me—"

You look up at her, teary-eyed.

"—I need to know that if, when you're recovered enough to be left alone, I let you go home, you're going to be safe."

"O-of course!" you say, too quickly even though you're not lying. "I'm going—I'm going to be safe. Even if Otoo-san wanted to—to hurt me, he's never home to do it."

"Do you have everything you need?"

"Yes. He—he gave me a debit card to use and there's always money in the account. I mean, it hasn't declined or anything so far. And I know how to cook and grocery shop. And now that I'm managing for the volleyball club, I've gotten really good at meal prepping. Oh—can I go home sometime tonight or tomorrow? I have curry that I should freeze."

She looks at you with sad eyes. "I can't let you go by yourself, but I can come with you, or you can go with Yuu tonight. Since you'll be staying here for a few nights, we can take the chance to pick up some necessities for you, too."

"Okay. Thank you."

"We'll go after dinner."

"Okay."

"And, listen, [surname]-chan. You are always welcome here, okay? Even if it's perfectly safe at your house, even if you just want to come and play with the cat, you're welcome here."

"Okay."

She watches you another moment. When she leaves the room, she ruffles your hair.

It takes you approximately three seconds after that to break.

~

You've never been so glad to see Noya. He practically runs to your side once he's released, immediately pulling you into a warm hug. You cry into his shoulder, wind your arms around him.

"Sorry. I tried to slip back out here just in case, but Mei literally held me back. She scruffed me like a cat when I tried to leave the kitchen. You would've laughed."

You let out a wet laugh. "Wish I saw it."

"I really am sorry. I know she can be intense, but I swear it's just because she cares."

"She wasn't—she wasn't intense or anything," you admit. "Just—you've got a good mom. She really is cool."

"She is! She's great. What did she do?"

You bury your face in his shoulder in the hopes that it'll muffle your voice a bit. "Just—just motherly stuff, I guess. Asked if I'm safe. If I've got everything I need."

"You are safe at home, right?"

"Yes! I dunno why everyone thinks that—that—"

He strokes your hair as you sniffle, gives you the moment to collect yourself.

"I'm safe," you finish lamely. "I am. I don't like it when people care about me. I dunno what to do with that."

"You're gonna have to get used to that one, unfortunately. The team's worried about you, too, you know? They wouldn't start practice until I gave them the full report."

"Oh great, worry. That's even worse than caring."

"If it bothers you, you're just gonna have to work really hard at resting and accepting the help you're being given so you can get better quicker."

"Okay." You sniffle. "I'll do that."

He holds you closer, holds you until you've calmed down. Stays by your side until dinner's ready, until you're ready to face his family.

~

Mei is weird compared to everyone else at the table. The whole family has showed for this dinner you've intruded on—Satsuki smiles at you when she gets home, whispers an apology when her shouted I'm home! makes you wince. Another sister—the stalker sister, Kaede, if you remember correctly—emerges from a room deeper in the house when called, paint smudged on her cheeks and hands somehow perfectly immaculate. She's lower-key than Satsuki or Noya is, but when you're all sat around the table, she launches right into some debate with Satsuki that their grandfather immediately joins in on, lively and at a lowered volume out of respect for you.

You eat in silence. You'd like to pretend that you're paying attention to whatever heated debate is going on, but it's a little hard to follow past the dull throbbing in your skull. You think maybe the crying made your headache worse.

While the others get lost in some lively conversation or another—Noya going quiet occasionally to check in with you—the sister third just sits there, like you, except you have the excuse of being an active concussion case to justify your silence. She watches you with a nervous look in her eye that doesn't seem to fade whenever you glance back at her.

You can't remember which sister Noya said gets the anxiety attacks—if he said it—but you'd be willing to bet it was Mei.

The one Soba saved.

She won't stop staring at you. On a better day, you might have more tact, but, well, the concussion, so the next time you catch her eye, you stare right back. "Why are you staring at me?"

She jolts, shoulders collapsing in on her. "Sorry. I just… you're Yuu's friend?"

"Uh, yeah." That should be obvious, but you should also be nicer.

"I'm not really, uh, I'm not great at talking to people. But he was saying we'd probably get along, and I was trying to figure out why, but you don't really talk much, so it's hard to get a read on you? But I'm not really great with strangers or anything, and… I mean… d-do you like volleyball? You're a manager in Yuu's club, right?"

A nod. "Yeah. I'm finally kind of at the point where I understand what's going on, and it's fun to watch, but I can't say I'm really good at managing or anything."

"What?" Noya interrupts. "No, you're amazing. What are you talking about?"

You raise an eyebrow. "How have you completely missed the part where I am the single least useful manager? Shimizu-senpai's amazing, Yachi-san's doing all these cool, professional-looking posters and stuff, and I show up. Which I now do not even do, on account of getting hit in the head by a stray ball like it's my first time in the gym."

"I don't wanna hear it from the only reason I passed my final exams."

"Excuse me? I didn't take the exams for you. You did that—and all the studying—yourself. So did Tanaka-senpai, before you bring him up."

"And Shouyo and Kageyama?"

"They took their own exams, too. All of you guys passed because you put in the work."

"You made like, a hundred practice exams. You sent them home after they got their grades back with detailed study schedules. Weren't you, like, adjusting their practice exams to focus on testing the things they got wrong the previous day or something, too?"

"That's nothing. That's literally just like, stuff they probably could have done online if they'd thought about it."

"But they didn't. You did. You don't get to put Yachi-san up on a pedestal just to say you're doing nothing when you factually are—"

You bat at his shoulder playfully. "I literally have a concussion, you're not allowed to argue with me until I'm better."

"Fine, I'll restart this argument the second you're back at school, then," he teases.

You hate him. (You don't.)

You return your attention to Mei. "Sorry, someone likes to fight me."

"When have I ever—"

You reach out blindly, covering his mouth with your hand and smiling at Mei. "But yeah, I don't dislike volleyball, for sure. It's good to get out of the house, and all that. What about you? What do you do?"

Her face brightens a little. "Oh, I'm actually in university! I'm taking a course to become a librarian. It's probably not all that interesting, though, so…"

You lean forward a little, smile encouragingly. When you release Noya's mouth, he has the good sense not to continue the argument. "No, tell me about it. That sounds really cool!"

Bingo. She relaxes into the conversation, starts telling you all about the stuff she's learning, how much more librarians do beyond putting books on the shelf and scanning your library cards. She has a lot to say on the subject, and you don't really follow a lot of it, but you nod encouragingly and try your best. It's not even anything complicated, she's just a little hard to understand through the pounding in your head and the fatigue settling firmly over your body.

When dinner's over, your attempts to help clean are met with no less than six stern looks. You reach for your phone thoughtlessly, which only makes your head pound harder within seconds of checking your notifications.

Right. No screens.

Fine then. You wander into the living room, where Soba greets you with a soft mrrp?.

"Hi, baby," you coo, coming to sit nearby. She's picky about when she likes to be pet, so you don't reach for her, no matter how much you want to. Instead, you sit back and watch her, pushing a cat toy her way as a peace offering. Her eyes lock on, pupils widening as she focuses on the toy.

You have her attention.

By the time Noya finds you, both you and Soba are thoroughly engrossed in her quest to fucking murder this cat toy, and you've only got one new scratch to show for it. For a moment, you can almost ignore the pounding in your head, but then you hear a dish clatter in the kitchen and for just a moment you swear to god it's a gunshot that's perfectly hit you in the forehead.

He crouches beside you, gently takes the toy to distract Soba. "Kaa-san says you wanted to run back by your place to grab some stuff and freeze your curry."

"Y-yeah," you grit out with a nod.

"I was gonna ask if you wanted to go now, but, well…" He nods to you. "You kinda look like your head's about to split open."

"'M fine," you grumble. "Let's go."

"You are actively tearing up."

"What? No I'm not—" Your hand flies to your cheek, and dammit, he's right. "…fine."

"It's okay. Kaa-san's gonna be home with you tomorrow while I'm at school, and she can take you then."

Your lip juts into a pout. "I haven't even done anything today."

"I know, I know. You got Mei to like you, though. That's something!"

"Didn't feel like I was doin' anything."

"C'mon. You can take my room, and I can get you some pajamas from Satsuki or Mei, or you can just borrow some of my clothes. But you should get some rest."

You groan as he helps you to your feet. "Please don't make me make any decisions right now."

"My clothes it is, then. Great! I was hoping you'd say that!"

He guides you down the hall and up the stairs to his bedroom.

"Where're you gonna sleep if I'm stealin' your bedroom?" you mumble.

"We already moved my futon out. This way, you're in the quietest part of the house."

"Really. Your bedroom is the quietest part of the house?" Somehow, you don't believe that for a second.

"Well, when I'm not in it, it is," he grins.

"And you completely dodged the question."

"Well, they've decided that in order to take you in until you're better, someone had to go, so… I'm so sorry, [name]-san. Remember me fondly."

You snort. "They are not kicking you out."

"They're not. My futon's getting laid out near the door so if you need something you can yell."

"Please at least sleep on the couch downstairs or something."

"Absolutely not. When I hit a thousand, I want to already be a man worth marrying you! That means being there when you're hurt!"

You huff. You don't have the energy to fight it, at any rate. "Sure, sure. You know you don't have to do much to be worth me?"

"I'm going to choose to believe you mean that you already think I'm amazing and cool and not that you're trying to put yourself down."

"Believe what you want," you sigh.

Inside his bedroom is surprisingly clean. The Nishinoya family seems to have done plenty of planning for this, so you'd be surprised if there hadn't been a crazed cleanup session to deep-clean his bedroom once they decided that was where you'd be sleeping. Some posters on the wall, one spot where a poster conspicuously used to be, based on the tack still marking the corners of a perfect rectangle in between two others. It's basically exactly what you'd expect if you deep-cleaned a teenage boy's bedroom. Noya leaves your side to rummage his drawers, returning a moment later with clothes for you.

"You're good to get changed by yourself, right? Not too dizzy or anything? I can grab Satsuki—no, bad idea—I can grab Mei if you need some help."

You shake your head. "I'll be okay. The dizzy's way better than it was this morning, 'sjust painful."

"I'll wait outside, then."

You wait for him to close the door behind him before you get changed, stumble a little in the process because you were totally downplaying how dizzy you were, but eventually get yourself into the provided t-shirt and basketball shorts. When Noya returns, he stops short in the doorway, staring at you rather openly as you tug a bit at the shirt.

You raise an eyebrow at him. His cheeks are scarlet as he stares you down.

"Are you sure I'm the one with the concussion?" you ask when you're fed up with the quiet. "You seem to be rebooting."

"Marry me," he blurts again. "I mean—sorry, bad timing probably, but—nevermind—"

"Nine hundred and—huh." You bite your lip thoughtfully, racking your brain, but the focus only makes your head pound worse. "Did you propose at all yesterday? I can't really remember."

"Oh, yeah, nine hundred and twenty times or so. I've just got twenty more to go!"

"Uh-huh. What's the actual count?"

"…nine hundred and forty to go," he admits. "Once with the morning greeting, and I got a couple out when you agreed to help me with the jump set."

"Nine thirty-nine, then," you say as he moves to lay out the futon. As he does, you watch his arms flex appreciatively. Maybe it's the concussion, but you can't quite seem to pull your eyes away. "You know. As thanks for helping me out with everything, and all that."

"Not just because I'm nice to look at?" he pouts.

"Keep dreaming, Casanova."

You allow yourself one last impulse for the night, stopping him on the way out the door. "Hey, Senpai?"

He turns just in time for you to crash into him in a hug. "Wh—"

"Thank you. Seriously. For… for not letting stuff get out with the guys. And taking care of me. And… and everything."

Noya huffs softly, arms wrapping around you in turn. "I got you. You just rest."

You don't need him to tell you twice.

Chapter Text

13 - the second day

Sleep comes to you in short, restless bursts. You don't have a great metric for the time passing—either Noya doesn't have an alarm clock in his room, or else he's put it away to avoid bothering you with the light while you're here—but you just keep fucking waking up, again and again. You wake up no more rested than before, maybe even more exhausted than before you, and then you lay there for way too long trying to get back to sleep.

It must be the fifth time you've woken up this way, and you're about fucking done trying if not for how tired you still are. You push yourself to your feet in hopes that maybe an attempt to acquire water will make it easier to sleep. Noya left the bedroom door open a little—you presume so he could hear you if you called for him—so you slip out, carefully stepping around him on the floor.

Dumbass. He really didn't need to sleep in the hallway.

The stairs are the scariest part of this endeavor—you're not sure how long the vestiges of dizziness are supposed to rattle around up there, but you're definitely still feeling it as you stare down at the landing. Still, you don't want to wake Noya when he's got practice in the morning. You don't want to be the reason any of the boys aren't ready to destroy the competition when the time comes.

So you take the stairs: one at a time, death grip on the railing, moving as slowly and quietly as you can manage so as to not alert anyone to your little adventure. When you make it to the bottom unharmed, you silently cheer for yourself before navigating to the kitchen. It's barely lit, only by the moonlight through the window, but given the state of things right now, that's probably good for you.

And then you realize: you don't know which cabinet the cups are in.

It feels weird to rummage through a stranger's kitchen as you start carefully checking cabinets, but you can't ask for help for something as simple as grabbing a fucking glass of water. You adamantly refuse. They're all already doing so much for you, and you're not going to—

"If you're looking for a cup, they're in the cabinet to your left."

You yelp something awful, jolting to see Kaede leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

She laughs, and you flinch, turning to look in the mentioned cabinet.

"Looking for anything to drink in particular, or just water?"

"Just water," you mumble.

"Ice?"

You wrinkle your nose at the thought. "No, I'm good."

She comes to stand beside you, takes the empty glass from your hand to fill it.

"Guess it's probably hard for you to sleep right now."

You nod, mumbling a quiet thank you when she passes back the glass of water. "Definitely not easy. I have issues enough trying to sleep when I'm not concussed."

"I can imagine." She moves to the freezer, pulls out a popsicle. Must be a family trait.

"You're, uh… the oldest, right? Kaede-san?"

She nods. "And you're the poor girl Yuu's stalking."

You laugh softly. "The very same."

"I'm kinda glad you're staying with us for a bit. I don't know your situation, but it's rare for Yuu to actually be worried about something. You two must be closer than I thought."

A soft huff. "We're just friends. My family situation's not… the best, so I think he tries to dote on me to make me feel better about my life or something."

Kaede shakes her head. She's moving around the kitchen, apparently grabbing stuff to make tea. "Yuu's not like that. He says what he feels and does what he feels like. If he's acting like he cares about you, it's because he actually does."

"Yeah, I'm starting to get that impression." You pause, take a slow sip of your water. "Everyone's so nice here. It's weird."

"Jeez. We've barely even done anything yet."

"You helped me get water. Noya-senpai's given up his bedroom instead of just, like, having me sleep on the couch. Mei-san made the dinner I requested, and—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there. I literally just turned on the sink and handed you a cup. Yuu offered to give up his bedroom so you could be somewhere you're likely to actually rest, and because you're likely to fall off the couch if you move around at all in your sleep. And it was Mei's night to cook. She loves cooking but fucking hates having to decide the menu, so you having a specific request did her a lot of favors."

"When you put it that way, it sounds really basic and obvious," you grumble.

"They're all really basic, obvious things."

You don't know how long you lean against the kitchen counter, watching Kaede work, just that, eventually, she takes the barely-drunk glass of water from you and puts a mug of tea in your hands instead.

You blink at it a moment. "Wait."

"Helps me sleep, too." She sips her own mug slowly. At some point, the popsicle she was eating ceased to exist. You choose to believe she ate it like a normal human being instead of like her brother, and you simply weren't paying attention enough to notice. "It's already made, so you'd be wasting it if you didn't drink it."

Damn social conventions. "You didn't have to do that."

She shrugs. "The electric kettle makes two mugs' worth of hot water at minimum and I only ever want one."

"…thank you."

You sit together and drink your tea in silence.

~

Kaede helps you up the stairs when you're done. At the top, you catch sight of Noya: sitting straight up at the end of the hall, staring at you with a pout and crossed arms. Kaede stifles a laugh and leaves you to his mercy without a word.

"Did you get down the stairs by yourself?"

"How long have you been waiting up for me?"

"Time isn't real, and you're avoiding the question."

"I was really careful," you grumble.

"[name]-san, that was dangerous. Aren't you still dizzy?"

"Not as dizzy as before."

"Still…"

"I couldn't sleep," you admit quietly. You step around him to get into his room, pausing in the doorway. "I'll try again."

He watches you with a worried expression, and you stare back a moment.

"What would make it easier?"

"Eh?"

"To sleep, I mean. Is there anything getting in the way?"

"…can you just, like, bring your futon into the room? It's harder to sleep knowing I literally kicked you out of your bedroom. Even if you say it's fine, I feel guilty."

He practically leaps up to move into the room. "Consider it done. What else?"

"Um… maybe, like, an extra pillow? If that's alright? It's, um…" Your cheeks heat up. You feel like an absolute child suddenly. "It's hard to sleep without cuddling something."

"You've got me," he says with a grin. "Soba seems to think I'm a good cuddler. Someone else I know, too, though she doesn't seem to want to admit it…"

You snort. "Shut up."

He smiles at you fondly while you crawl into your futon, and before he can continue to press the suggestion, your favorite ball of fluff slinks into the room, stares at you, and curls right up in the space against your chest.

Noya climbs into his own futon, and you accept Soba as your cuddle partner for the night, a pleased smile on your lips.

~

When Noya wakes up, it's to the first hints of sunlight crawling into the room and a hand on top of his. He slept as he usually does—on his back, arms splayed—only this time, he follows a soft hand resting in his open palm and finds you, laid on your side and snuggled up to Soba, one arm outstretched during the night.

He finds his phone beside him and nearly panics trying to cancel the alarm before it goes off. The photo he manages to take after that is surprisingly well-framed, and one which he immediately favorites.

He lays there a moment, staring, and then he carefully shifts to pull his hand out from underneath yours. You'll probably want the blinds closed in case light is still bothering you, and Soba's going to be very angry and demanding food soon. She keeps a tight schedule.

The second your hand hits the floor, you shift, eyes opening blearily with a sound that might be a whine, if he had to categorize it. In your arms, Soba lets out an uncannily similar mrrp? as she, too, opens her eyes and looks at him.

"Good morning," he whispers. "You ladies can go back to sleep."

You nod sleepily and kiss the top of Soba's head, and Noya melts, snapping another picture out of solemn duty before moving to darken the room for you. When he moves to leave for the bathroom—shower and changing are in order—you let out a mournful cry. He looks back—Soba has gotten up to follow him, sensing impending breakfast but leaving you with nothing to cuddle.

He laughs softly. "Just cuddle my pillow or something. Soba's gotta eat."

Another mournful whine, but you scramble over and pull his pillow into your arms, falling asleep again what looks to be immediately. Cute.

He leaves the door cracked when he goes.

~

When Noya returns, his hair is wet and he's topless, probably just to taunt you. It might have worked if you—freshly awake, probably looking awful, distinctly feeling like roadkill—didn't feel violently nauseous.

You nod to him, a pillow pulled to your chest as you sit.

"Oh, you're up."

"Mmrgh."

He laughs, ruffling your hair as he walks past you. "How are you feeling today?"

You respond with a slightly deeper mmrgh.

"Wow," he says. "Really?"

He only laughs harder at your glare.

"You are not a morning person, huh?"

Your eyes track him as he finds a shirt, lingering on the muscles of his back.

"Want some breakfast? Or are you just gonna keep checking me out until I have to go?"

"'F you make me eat anythin' right now, I'm gonna throw up on your floor," you say. Your voice is hoarse with the morning, and you clear your throat in hopes of making it come out less so.

Noya cringes. "That bad?"

"I sat up and the room spun so bad that I almost did."

"I'll let Okaa-san know. Got your phone?"

You wave it at him, pulling at the charging cord a bit.

"Attagirl. Yell or text if you need me, alright? I'll be downstairs for a bit."

When he leaves the room, your phone buzzes with a text.

Noya to [name] at 6:47

Noya: [image attached. Image description: you, cast in the glow of the morning, Soba tucked under your arm. Both of you are asleep in similar positions, with your top arm stretching towards the camera. Your hand rests on Noya's in the foreground as you sleep.]

Noya: morning soba to encourage you to get well soon :)

[name]: stalker

You hear a familiar laugh down the hall and turn back over to sleep, smiling.

~

Noya's mom checks on you periodically throughout the day. When you wake up a little after lunchtime, the nausea has passed, and she helps you down the stairs to at least nibble on something in the kitchen while you can stand to. After that, you watch her bustle about the house doing housework for a while, checking your phone periodically until you feel your head start to hurt again.

Noya sends little texts apparently whenever he can get away with it: one before morning practice to the tune of stop looking at your phone and get some sleep and another after to report in on how practice went. The others haven't reached out at all; even though Hinata has your number, you've received no apologies from him. Not that you need one or think he should, but…

Well, you're lonely.

Around the time you get a check-in from Noya before afternoon practice, Noya's mom takes you to freeze your curry leftovers and get some necessities from your place. She draws the line at any additional chores, even though you really should run the trash out and maybe throw in a load of laundry and—

She vetoes all of it.

Maybe you should make it a point to come back and check on things whenever you're given the ability to do so. It makes you nervous, thinking about leaving the house empty. Then, it makes you sad, and then your head is spiraling towards one thing, and one thing only:

You haven't been home in two days, and your father doesn't seem to have noticed.

~

Everyone in the Nishinoya household calls out a greeting when they come home.

It feels like such an obvious thing. Mei comes home from something, she says I'm home! loudly enough that at least one person hears her, and from within the walls of this house, welcome back! invariably echoes back. Satsuki gets home from hanging out with friends and she shouts it into the house. Even Soba welcomes her back with a meow from where you hadn't known she'd been hiding in the TV stand. Noya's grandfather (still insistent you call him Jii-chan, which feels too profoundly weird to even attempt at this time) grins and waves and calls out an easy yo! when he returns from wherever he's gone.

It's… sickeningly cozy. You know who's home at any given time this way, don't have to wait to hear someone make conversation or wander into whatever room you're in to know who opened the front door and whether they were coming or going.

Noya, predictably, is the last to come home, beaten by Kaede to the tune of several hours. This makes sense. He's got practice, after all, and he texted to let you know that he was staying to work on that jump set he told you about, but you're still disappointed to hear the door and hear her voice call out I'm home! instead.

"Oh, you're up," she says when she sees you.

You nod. Words have been hard today, but you manage to mumble a welcome back all the same.

"Do anything fun today? Or are the regulations for you still 'rot until your head feels better'?"

"Rotting," you grumble. "I feel gross, I'm not allowed to do anything, I get maybe ten minutes with a screen before I have to stop for an hour, and I dunno how to do anything without either thinking or a screen."

"You can shower, you know. Pretty sure no one would stop you."

"I've been too dizzy. They're worried about me slipping or something."

"Want me to wash your hair for you?"

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?" she snorts. "You feel gross, you're too dizzy to take a full shower, but you can at least like, sponge down and get your scalp clean. It'll help."

"No, I mean… why are you offering?"

"Because you feel gross, you can't take a full shower, and it'll help." She speaks patiently, like repeating her previous points answers your question even a little.

You study her for a moment. She doesn't seem to have any weird motives or anything, so…

"Alright. That… that would help. Thanks."

This is how you find yourself in a chair in the bathroom, leaned over the sink while Kaede massages your scalp. She seems to have been ready for this, really, and when she's done rinsing, she waits.

"Do you think you can handle the noise of the hair dryer right now?" she asks. "I can get you earplugs."

You hum thoughtfully. "Earplugs first?"

"Great. Wait right there!"

She darts out of the room, returns with some silicone plugs. She's actually almost too good at this—the noise is still a lot with the earplugs, but it's tolerable, and you admire how much nicer it looks in the mirror when she's done.

"You're really good at that," you mutter as she stands behind you proudly. It's hard to focus on the hair, really—you're struck by the rest of your appearance, tilt your chin to the side to observe. You haven't really looked in a mirror the past few days, or however long you've been here, between the dizzy and the light sensitivity and the dread at seeing how bad you look.

If you had, you might have noticed the colorful curve of a bruise decorating your cheek. You'd imagine that came from the same spike that concussed you, but no one has said a word about it since you got here.

"I'm in a program for cosmetology," she explains. She bustles around behind you, wiping off spilled water on the counter top. "It's a bit harder in a bathroom sink, but I think I did a pretty good job. I've been doing everyone in the family's hair for ages, though."

You follow her out of the room as she inspects your hairbrush, her nose wrinkled.

"So who did the little blonde streak first? Senpai and Satsuki-san have a pretty similar thing going on."

"Believe it or not, they got them together. Before Satsuki hit her growth spurt, anyone would've sworn they were twins. Not sure whose idea it was, but they'd been getting those done for a few years before I learned to do it for them. When's the last time you cleaned this hairbrush?"

"Cleaned it?" you parrot back.

She looks back at you, fully aghast, and grabs your wrist, pulling you along. "Okay, we're giving you a crash course in hair care while you're here. Don't worry, I'll send you home with written instructions, too. I know your brain's sludge right now."

She sits you down on the couch, sits across from you to clean your brush in a bowl of water while she walks you through decidedly too much information about hair care. After a while, she leaves you to rest, declaring she needs to type up your care guide before you go home, and you fall asleep right there on the couch, head swimming with new information.

~

You're woken up this time—not by anyone's intent, exactly, but by the feeling of something warm and fluffy leaving your head (???) and immediately producing the saddest cries you’ve ever heard from a cat.²⁸ You open your eyes to see that Noya is prying Soba away from you, and you melt a little at her meows of complaint.

"Oh my god, put her back," you say, making grabby hands at her. "She sounds so sad!"

"Sorry, [name]-san," he says with a grin, "it's dinner time, and you're not gonna get up if she's sleeping on you."

"You're evil," you whine.

"I am evil. I'm also not putting her down until you get up."

"I'm going to bite you." You push yourself to sit up, pouting at him. Though Soba is continuing to voice her devastated complaints, he raises an eyebrow.

"You can bite me whenever and wherever you want, but I said get up, not sit up."

"Evil."

"Responsible."

"Why can't you be this responsible any other time? I'd love to see you be responsible during practice."

He sounds aghast at the implication. "I'm always responsible!"

"Try telling me that again after more than fourteen days have passed since the last Bowling Thunder incident."

"Oi, it's Rolling Thunder—"

"Maybe it is when you don't do it directly into the legs of three people."

"Listen, if someone hears me shout "rolling thunder" within a few meters of them and they don't pay attention enough to get out of the way, that's them being irresponsible, not me."

"Uh-huh. Sure."

You stand at last, and he lets Soba free.

"See, that wasn't so bad!"

"Maybe someday I'll even forgive you," you tease back. You take a moment to rub the final bits of sleep from your eyes, following him towards the dining room.

"I eagerly await the day you forgive this awful transgression. In the meantime, how are you feeling? I noticed you made it downstairs."

"Better!" you chirp. "Kaede-san helped me get cleaned up a little bit, since I'm not quite shower-ready yet, and I feel way better."

"You look better. Seems like you're sleeping better, too."

"Definitely. It helps that a certain someone's so sweet." The "certain someone" in question wraps around your legs, and you lean over to stroke her head gently. "Yeah, baby, I'm talking about you. Stay—snrk—" You pause, interrupted by your own startled laugh as the joke comes to you. "—stay So-by my side tonight, too."²⁹

Noya stifles his own laughter. "Shouyo definitely hit you too hard. That was the worst joke I've ever heard."

"What, you don't like my humor?"

"That's not humor, that's an affront. Marry me."

You giggle, shove his shoulder playfully. "Ooh, big vocabulary. Ask another nine hundred thirty-eight times, and maybe."

"Please marry me?"

You're about to retort with something when you remember the presence of his family in the room, watching the exchange in varying degrees of amusement. It takes some effort, but you're able to control your last giggles. The embarrassment helps. So does sliding into a seat next to Satsuki, who elbows you and whispers, "single?".

You elbow her right back, whispering, "yes!" as your cheeks burn.

"[name]-san, if you don't answer me I'm gonna keep asking—"

You nearly throw something at his head. If you didn't have perfect faith he'd catch it, you would. "Nine thirty-seven, you are shameless!"

"If I had any shame, you wouldn't talk to me. I'll take it as a victory!"

You sigh and turn your attention to dinner, to eating and joining in conversations and feeling warmer and more energetic than before the little gap in your memory.

You could get used to this.

Chapter Text

14 - flip your futon

"You've got a grumpy look on your face."

"I'm not grumpy," you reply firmly.

You're laid up in the guest futon on Noya's floor again, Soba having curled up on your pillow next to your head. She's purring loudly, making it hard to hear Noya even though he's on his own futon barely two meters away.

"You look grumpy."

"I'm not."

"Then what are you? If your head's hurting again, you should put the phone down."

"My head's not hurting, either."

You peer past your phone at him. He's giving you that damn unimpressed look that you've come to understand means something like I don't buy a word out of your mouth.

"It's really not," you sigh. "I'm just… the house is a mess. I need to clean it. If I leave the trash there until I'm well enough to take it out, it's gonna attract bugs, and you know how buggy the summer gets. But your mom wouldn't let me do more than freeze the curry and grab overnight stuff. And I'm sure it'll be fine if, like, I don't do laundry for a bit, but for how long? Otoo-san doesn't do any cleaning, he just fills up the trash with convenience store bentos that he usually didn't eat all of. He throws out a lot of food scraps. So they're gonna mold, too, and they could attract mice. And there were dishes I left for after school because I was running late that are gonna get gross. And—I dunno. I can't stop thinking about coming back and the place is basically destroyed because I'm not there to make sure everything's clean and neat. Otoo-san never hangs up or flips his futon, either, and he doesn't wipe down the tatami or vacuum at all. He's gonna get mites, and—"

"[name]-san, you're way overthinking it."

"If I don't think about it, no one else will," you grumble.

He hums thoughtfully. "Want me to head over and check on it after practice tomorrow? I'll run your trash and do your dishes for you."

"You don't have to—"

"Would it help you if I did?"

It would. It would help a lot.

You nod, but the thought doesn't soothe you. "Yeah. Thanks."

He studies your face with narrowed eyes. "Something else is bothering you."

"Will you stop being so observant? It's freaking me out."

"Nope. What is it?"

"…can we not talk about it?" you ask after a long moment, voice small. To your own ears, it's lost in Soba's insistent purring.

Noya watches you for a moment, then reaches out a hand. "Alright. But I'm here, okay? Whenever you wanna talk about it, I'm here."

The thought comforts you more than you'd like to admit.

You stare at his outstretched hand for the longest time, debating whether or not to take it. When you do, it's long after he seems to have fallen asleep, delicate fingertips crawling out to rest on his palm.

~

Hiro doesn't know what to do with himself on days off.

He hates being able to think. He works as much as he can to keep his mind off the reality of the situation. After two years of getting away with overtime every weekend and coming into the office even on his days off, he tells himself he's building a good nest egg for you. You'll be able to afford any college in the country. Abroad, even, if that's what you want. Last he checked, you were loving school. Surely you'll want to go to college. He drinks, too, but you'll be able to eat as much as you want or need, and never want for anything. It's the least he can do for you.

And after two years of this, his boss finally told him, in no uncertain terms—go home, [surname]-kun. I'm sure your daughter misses you, and you need a break.

His daughter isn't even here. He assumes you're at school, or your club activities—tennis, wasn't it? He'd never taken you for the type to be interested in sports in the first place. A stronger man would ask you about it. Express any sort of interest. A better father might actually know where you are.

He can't bring himself to sit on the couch. Can't bring himself to do more than stand in the living room, open beer in hand, staring blankly at the TV. It's on some sports match, fittingly enough, but he's hardly paying attention enough to even be able to tell you what sport's on the screen. In his periphery, the butsudan looms.³⁰ You've been maintaining it in silence—he catches a flash of orange and yellow on the shelf next to Tomoko's picture. A bowl of fruit laid out for her. She always loved citrus.

He can't do this. Can't be here. Needs to find an open bar or—or somewhere else to go. He shuts off the TV, moves to grab his wallet and storm out, but he freezes in the middle of the hallway at the sight of a strange boy with weird hair kicking off his shoes and setting down his bag in the genkan.

"Who the hell are you?" he demands.

The boy meets his eyes, confusion quickly giving way to a harsh glare as he stands to his full height, which isn't much. He's bruised all over, fingers on one of his hands taped, and looks ready for a fight. "[name]-san's friend. She asked me to check on the house for her."

"She did? You don't seem like someone she'd hang out with."

The boy seems unbothered, sets down a few things carefully on the side table—a stuffed bear wearing a hoodie, an envelope with your name on it in messy handwriting, and a plastic bag with another paper bag sticking out of it. "Yeah, well you don't really seem like her father, so…"

Oh, he's a fucking brat, then. Got it. "Too bad for you, I am. Any reason you can give me to believe you actually know my daughter?"

The boy pauses, rolls his eyes. Pulls out his phone, to his recent texts, and holds it out to show Hiro the screen. There's your name as the contact name, followed by a half-cut off picture of you, asleep with a random cat curled up next to your head. Your expression is peaceful, but the state of your face makes his heart drop into his stomach: a split lip, a large, colorful bruise curving across your cheek.

???: morning soba ft. my favorite girl

[name]: these cat photos are getting weirdly specific

[name]: she didn't even get up for breakfast this morning???

???: nah. I left it downstairs for her, but she's really worried about you

[name]: she's so sweet omf

[name]: before I forget/go back to sleep—the spare key is in the pot next to the front door

[name]: thanks again for checking on things for me, senpai <3

Hiro's eyes flick between the screen and the boy's unimpressed face for a few moments, non-comprehending. He doesn't even seem embarrassed to show off that he's sending you photos of yourself, sleeping. If anything, he looks almost proud of it.

He tries to tamp down a bit of the indignant anger. Just what the hell are you getting into behind his back?

"Alright. What's your relationship with her?"

"Isn't it obvious?" the boy sneers, pocketing his phone and brushing past Hiro—into his house!

"So, what, you expect me to believe that my daughter is going out with random delinquents and giving them our spare key?"

"I'm not a delinquent, old man," the delinquent snaps. "I'm the guy taking care of your daughter while she's hurt." He disappears into the kitchen and returns a moment later with the near-overflowing trash bag. He's clearly been here before. How many times has this boy been in his house? What kind of shit has he done to you?

"Since when? What the hell happened to her face?" Hiro demands. His mouth feels dry. "If I find out that you—"

"Got hit at practice. Took a volleyball right to her face."

A volleyball. He swore it was tennis.

It explains the gifts your… friend… set on the side table—classic "get well soon" paraphernalia. It doesn't exactly explain why that demands you sleep in a strange boy's house.

"No one called me about my daughter getting hurt."

He levels a look at Hiro, securing the knot on the bag and kicking into his shoes. "You were busy. Okaa-san took care of it."

He slams the door behind him to take the trash up the street, and Hiro leans against the wall, stomach twisting. The boy returns a few moments later, completely ignoring him to return to the kitchen. After a moment, Hiro listens to the sound of running water and clinking plates—he's doing the dishes.

Hiro meanders down the hall to watch him, just as he swears and untapes his fingers to get back to work.

"You don't have to watch me," the boy says as he returns to dishes. "I'll handle the chores she was getting anxious over you not doing while she was gone and be out of your hair soon."

Hiro doesn't respond. He just watches him work—rinse dish, scrub dish, wipe dry, like he's not standing in a stranger's kitchen and insulting him.

"How… how's she doing?"

"Better than she was. Her concussion's improved a lot in a short time. Did you even notice she was gone?"

Again he doesn't have anything to say to that. He tells himself it doesn't hurt—his daughter injured, and no one told him. "…when was she hurt?"

"She hasn't been here in three days."

Three days. You haven't been home in three days.

"You really didn't notice? Holy shit. No wonder she's so damn lonely."

His temper flares. "Now, you listen—"

"Don't worry. She smiles around me. It takes a little work, but I got her."

"I don't have to take this shit from some kid who's never lost his wife."

He puts down the last plate with a loud clank, hard enough that Hiro thinks it might crack. "Yeah, well, your daughter lost both her parents, from what I can tell, so tough shit." He shoves past, finds his way back to the front door, kicking his shoes on and collecting his things. Before he leaves, he pauses, glaring back over his shoulder. "[name]-san said to air out your futon and vacuum the tatami in your room. She's worried you're gonna get mites."

The kid slams the door when he leaves. Hiro slides to the floor and stares at nothing at all.

~

Otoo-san to [name] at 15:46

Otoo-san: hey, kid. can we talk? [message not sent]

~

When Noya comes home, you greet him in sync with Satsuki, who you've been watching play games in the living room for the past few hours. When watching got painful, you stared at the ceiling instead and listened. He finds you sprawled across an armchair, legs over the side, with Soba purring in your lap. You don't open your eyes when he wanders into the room.

"How was practice?" you ask, stroking Soba's head.

"Not bad. Totally jammed one of my fingers, so I didn't get to spend as much time as I wanted working on that set."

"What? Are you okay?" You open one eye. He's standing over you, arms full of things, and you raise an eyebrow. "…what's with the stuff?"

"All gifts for a beloved injured manager," he says with an easy grin. He slides into the seat adjacent from your armchair, rifles through the shit in his arms until he frees up hands enough to start giving you things. To start with: a little stuffed bear and an envelope. "The card's from the whole team; the bear's from Shouyo. He feels really bad about your head."

You huff. The bear's soft. It was a nice gesture, albeit totally unnecessary. You take a picture, send it to Hinata.

[name] to Hinata at 15:38

[name]: [image attached. Image description: a gray stuffed bear in a black hoodie, being held to balance on top of, ostensibly, your knees. In the background, Noya can be seen talking, wide grin on his face.]

[name]: I can't handle much more screens right now so I won't see it if you respond, but Noya-senpai says this was you

[name]: thanks :)

"And then I grabbed this for you when the guys and I stopped," Noya says when you set your phone down, passing a plastic bag containing another paper bag inside it over to you.

"You didn't have to get me anything," you say with a smile as you reach inside. One still-warm nikuman, delicious when you bite into it.

"It's fine, it's fine! Just some get-well-soon gifts for my favorite manager."

You roll your eyes. "Uh-huh. Last I heard, Shimizu-senpai is in immaculate condition. But… thanks."

He slips into the kitchen, rummaging for something as you polish off the nikuman. "How's the head?" he calls.

"Mostly fine! Still getting headaches if I look at screens too long, and I've got even less energy than normal but at least I don't feel like my brain's gonna explode if the noise gets too loud, and I'm barely getting nauseous or dizzy anymore. I'll probably be able to go home soon."

You open the card, unable to suppress your smile as you read it. Everyone, even Coach Ukai and Takeda, signed it, wishing you a fast recovery. (Noya included a little message that he capped off with, of course, a post-script asking for your hand in marriage when you're recovered. You privately tick up the number in your head and elect not to acknowledge it.) You can almost imagine someone holding Tsukishima down until he, too, signed the card, a thought which makes you giggle.

"You can stay as long as you want to. There's no rush." Noya says as he wanders back into the room with a first aid kit. "What are you giggling about?"

"Who threatened Tsukishima-san to make him sign?"

He laughs. "He tried to do his usual pretending-not-to-care thing and I think literally everyone got ready to fight him."

"I kinda think he's the type that's actually nice to girls," you snicker. "You should've seen him when Yachi-san was crying over the disaster duo's exam scores. Anyway, I don't wanna impose, so I'm not gonna stay forever or anything."

"Actually, I'm for you staying," Satsuki interrupts with a raise of her hand. "School's out for the summer, and Yuu's gonna be at practice like, all day or something, so we've got tons of time to have hot makeout sessions on the couch."

You let out a startled laugh. "Sure, sure, I'm down."

"I'm going to disown you," Noya says. He's struggling to find something in the first aid kit.

You sit up, set aside the card and bear as best you can without jostling Soba. She gets up and leaves anyway, and you pout after her. "Lemme see. Which finger was it?"

"It's fine! Just gotta re-tape it now that I'm done handling things at your place."

You level a stern look at him and hold out a hand. He obediently places the roll of medical tape in your waiting palm, then holds out the jammed hand. Immediately, you set down the tape and begin prodding at his hand with both of yours. "This one?" you ask, poking at where you think you see a little bit of swelling. He nods, so you move to messing with it a little. "Does this hurt at all?"

He shakes his head. "Not really, no."

"Thanks again for checking on the house. It's still standing and everything, right?"

"Your dishes are all clean and drying, and the trash is out, bag replaced. I put your key back where you told me, and the door is locked."

"Simp," Satsuki scoffs, not looking away from her game.

"That's simp with dibs to you," he corrects swiftly.

You bite back a laugh. "Bend your finger for me?" He obeys, curling and uncurling the finger slowly. "How's that feel?"

"A little stiff, a little sore. I have to really think about it to get it to move, but it doesn't hurt any more than when it's not moving."

You hum thoughtfully and begin to carefully tape his fingers. "Well, it really is just jammed. You're gonna rest that hand tonight and take it easy tomorrow."

"But—"

You shoot him a firm look. He closes his mouth in an instant.

"…why are you so good at this, anyway? This feels way more comfortable than when Chikara taped it for me earlier."

You shrug. "I got into a lot of fights last year. No one else was gonna patch me up, so…"

"I like you better every time you open your mouth," Satsuki comments.

Noya rolls his eyes. "Whatever you do, don't encourage her."

"I'll encourage her if I want to," you shoot back with a teasing grin. "Nix the hot makeout session, let's get in a fistfight."

"Don't you even joke about that. You still have a concussion, missy," he lectures.

You raise an eyebrow. "Seriously. Go back to, like, flying leaps and steamrolling people. This responsible kick is weird."

"I'll go back to normal when that bruise on your face fades."

"Ugh, fine. We'll make out instead—"

He bats at your hand. "Stop that."

"Fine, fine…" You sigh dramatically and tear the tape, smoothing down the end. "You're all set. Thanks again for checking on the house for me."

"Thanks for taping me up. You know, if you're looking for a husband—"

"Nine thirty-five, and take care of your hand like I told you to, and I'll think about it. And yes, that number's including the card."

"Deal," he says.

Satsuki sets aside the controller, rolling her eyes. "You two are disgusting. I'm going to the bathroom. Please stop being cute before I get back."

"She does not stop being cute. Ever, in fact," Noya replies immediately. "I don't think it's happening."

It's your turn to roll your eyes. Once Satsuki's left, you bite your lip nervously. "Actually, uh, Senpai? Everything was like… really really okay, right? No notes from Otoo-san or anything?"

He clears his throat. "Actually, about that?"

"What about it?" Your blood ices a little.

"I met him, actually? He was home."

"He—what? You what?"

"He was unexpectedly kinda protective of you. I had to prove to him that I didn't break in and you asked me to come, and then he was going on about how do you expect me to believe my daughter's getting mixed up with delinquents like you and whatever."

You blink, noncomprehending. "He thought you were a delinquent?"

"I might not have been the most polite. In my defense, I could have punched him and didn't, so all things considered, I was good."

"Yeah, that—no offense, that makes sense from you. What did you tell him?"

"I showed him the text where you told me where the spare key was and thanked me for checking on things for you. I didn't give him a ton of details, but I did tell him you got hurt at practice and were staying at my place."

"Did… did he…" You chew your lip nervously, feeling suddenly tiny. "Y-you know. Did he notice?"

You're afraid to look at Noya's expression. If you don't, he might be able to get away with lying about it.

He gets up and pulls you into a hug. "If it helps, I ripped him a new one for it. And told him to flip his futon because you were worried."

Your bottom lip quivers something awful. "It—it does. Maybe. I don't—I don't—"

No amount of willpower stops the tears from coming when they start. Noya shushes you gently. "C'mon, you don't wanna cry down here. Let's get you upstairs."

You let him take you back to his room, let him hold you in the middle of the floor because the futons are both airing out. "I hate him," you sob. "I fucking hate him. This is what I was so—so damn worried about—"

"I know," he murmurs in reply. "I'm so sorry."

"I—" You start, then pause, swallowing down a few tears before you can start again. "Do you think it's really okay if I stay a little longer? I just—I don't want to go home."

"Of course," he says immediately. "As long as you want. You can ask Okaa-san, too, if you're worried, but my sisters love you, you know? No one's gonna be mad if you stay."

You sniffle. Hide your face in his neck. "Thanks. Thank you."

"Didn't even need to ask. We do actually want you here. It's not an obligation thing. You know that, right?"

"Look at my family and ask me that again."

He winces. "Point taken."

"Are you sure I can't get in a fight with Satsuki?" you mumble. "I wanna hit something."

"No fighting. If you try, I'm gonna hug you and I'm not gonna let go no matter how embarrassed you get."

"Then, can we head back downstairs?" you ask meekly. "I don't—I—I need a distraction. I don't wanna think."

"Of course. You wanna hang out until you're calmed down? I'm a great distraction."

You shake your head. "I wanna watch Satsuki-nee kill stuff."

He laughs. "Alright. Let's go watch her kill things."

Chapter Text

15 - stop the spiral

Time flies when your head isn't desperately trying to prevent itself from splitting apart. Two days takes you into a stage of recovery where Noya's mom tells you that you can go home if—and only if—you'd like to, and two nights of sleeping within arm's reach of Noya and not hearing from your father even though he knows you haven't been home in nearly a week takes you into just the right amount of risk-taking behaviors to ask to stay a little longer.

When you work up the courage to ask, you're sitting in the kitchen, legs swinging as you watch Noya's mom make lunch for the three of you. Satsuki's out with friends, Mei's studying upstairs, and Kaede's out. Apparently, Noya's grandfather spends a lot of time out of the house, just generally having a good time, so you're left with Rina.

"Um, Nishinoya-san…" you start, biting your lip.

"Please, Rina's fine."

"R-Rina-san, then…?"

She nods, not looking up from where she's slicing tomatoes. "Yes?"

"You know how you said I could leave whenever I wanted?"

Another nod. Her knife hand slows as she tilts her head to listen to you. "Of course. Now that you're well enough to handle yourself without too much risk to your health, I'm not going to trap you here."

"…is it also okay if I stay a bit longer…? I just, I mean, I don't know how Noya-senpai really feels about it or anything, and I guess Satsuki-san said she wanted me to stay, too, but, I mean—I don't want to impose, I just…"

She puts down the knife entirely. "Honey, you can stay as long as you like. I'm absolutely positive that Yuu is happy to have you here, and the girls all like you, too."

"Okay," you say. Rina makes you feel small in the worst way. Not looked down on, but vulnerable. "I don't think I'm ready to go home yet."

She hums her approval. Picks the knife back up.

"I, um, I'm feeling really good today, so I might try to go to practice tomorrow for a little bit to see how I handle it."

"That's a good plan. The doctor's orders said to slowly start returning to school and activities, so that's a good start."

"Oh, but—just in case I can't do it, um, don't tell Noya-senpai? I wanna go in the middle of the day, I think."

Another nod. "I'll see if any of the girls are available to walk you."

You smile and turn to your phone as Rina finishes making lunch, firing off a few texts to the newly-created manager group chat. The excitement buzzes already; you can't wait.

~

…or maybe, you can wait. Maybe you really, really can.

You wake up and there is no one here. Soba is not with you—she slept somewhere else last night—and Noya must have already gone to practice. He sent you a text, a picture of Soba with her face in her food bowl, along with a have a good day!.

You wish it helped. Yesterday's quiet excitement—coordinating with the girls in short bursts of texts over the course of the afternoon, talking Mei into walking you to and from the school today so you can surprise them properly and leave before practice is officially over—is gone now, replaced with a lump of dread that makes it difficult for you to swallow and the looming memory that your father didn't even notice.

Part of you wants to simply not show. Let them wonder. The other, more insidious part of you knows that you wouldn't be able to handle it if they didn't notice, either.

You roll over, flip over to the managers group chat.

[name] to Karasuno Managers!!! at 8:48

[name]: hey, uh, nix the return today

[name]: sorry

[name]: feel like I'm gonna throw up lol

No replies pour in right away. That's fine, that makes sense; they're at practice, they're busy.

You drag yourself down the stairs, meander into the kitchen to pick out the most meager breakfast you can get away with.

You stumble, head-first, into Mei in the kitchen. She's holding a plate of food, and at the sight of you, she blinks in surprise. "Oh. You're up."

"Good morning," you mumble. "Sorry for bumping into you."

"No, no, don't be. I made breakfast?"

You nod to the table. She joins you, lays down a plate in front of you and another in front of herself. You pick at it. It looks and smells delicious, and honestly, of everyone who's had the chance to cook for you so far, she's probably the best.

"Do you still want me to walk you to the school today?" she says after a moment.

Your hand stills. "I… I dunno."

She leans forward, chin resting in her hand. "What's up?"

"Just—just overthinking," you admit, probably because she suddenly looks stunningly like her siblings. "It's probably not anything."

"I don't want to needle you the way Yuu or Satsuki might, but if you wanted to talk about it, um… I'm good with overthinking. Satsuki says it's my best skill."

You stifle a sudden laugh. "Same here. Uh, Satsuki-san doesn't say that to me, but I mean—you get me." A pause. You take a bite of your breakfast, chew painfully slowly. It's not like you particularly mistrust Mei. And given that you do kinda feel your heart in your throat for no reason right now, and given that Mei's experienced with dealing with this…

Well, it probably wouldn't hurt.

"…I just kinda feel like maybe Noya-senpai's the only one who cares if I come back and maybe he just cares because he's nice."

She tilts her head, searches your face carefully. "Why?"

You cringe. You're in too deep already to back out, but… "I just… I don't know. I guess I just kinda always assume that no one actually wants me around? But, y'know, I'm kind of the bonus manager. I joined because I happened to be standing close to Yachi-san when Shimizu-senpai asked her, and we both just sort of agreed to it. And Shimizu-senpai is obviously really established and impossible to compete with because the guys think she's a goddess on Earth or whatever, and Yachi-san didn't seem like she was gonna stick around but not only has she stuck around but also she made these totally kickass posters for the team because they needed donations and like, that leaves me as the extra, right? She's actually done shit to establish herself. So now I'm, like… left over. And I'm sure they've spent all week realizing how much they absolutely do not need me around. I don't wanna go back and them not be, like, happy to see me, or whatever, but—"

You groan, dropping your head to the table. You stop short of what would have been a satisfying thunk, if only because you expect a lecture for mistreating your head that way under the circumstances. "This is so stupid. I haven't cared about having friends in ages. I don't get why I'm getting worked up about it now."

"I mean, I don't want to assume anything, but… isn't it just that you like being a manager? I think it's probably normal to want to feel accepted."

"I don't want anything. I don't like wanting things. It feels itchy."

"Well, do you think it'd help if you did something for them, too? Like, um, Yachi-san did?"

"Nothing's going to be as cool as those stupid posters," you whine. "They're amazing, Mei-san. They look like they were designed by a professional and everything. I can't make anything like that."

"Well, Yuu was talking about how you like to cook for people. Maybe you could do something with that?"

Your eyes light up a little.

You… you could do something with that.

"Mei-san," you say, picking your head up. "Are you busy today?"

~

Hitoka stares at the messages, heart thumping in her throat until it threatens to choke her.

She knows, okay? She knows that she gets her head caught up in things and trips down paths that no one else seems to think are worthy of exploring. She knows her imagination runs away, and her heart with it, at the slightest provocation. Usually, in hindsight, laying awake and mind racing, she can see where, maybe, her anxiety took over and dragged her into the realm of unreasonable, or she can follow those same paths deeper, depending on the night.

The trouble is that knowing that much doesn't actually stop the spiral. If anything, it makes it worse—between the they're gonna die or she's going to try to murder me is the constant backbeat, the stop being silly, the you're being stupid. Frustration and shame and embarrassment cloud it, make the panic worse. Sometimes she wonders how anyone ever puts up with her, her social missteps, her catastrophizing at the tiniest slights.

This isn't one of the occasions where she knows she's being stupid. Actually, she's pretty sure the new fear is well-founded. No matter how many times she rereads the texts, she falls short of any other explanation for them, anyway.

[name] to Karasuno Managers!!! at 8:48

[name]: hey, uh, nix the return today

[name]: sorry

[name]: feel like I'm gonna throw up lol

[name]: actually, when you guys see this, could one of you ask Takeda-sensei to meet me outside?

[name]: I gotta talk to him about something, but I don't want any of the guys to see me and get excited

Her hands shake as she taps out a response.

Yachi: no problem! I hope yuou're feeling better soon!!!

Yachi: omg I'm sorry *you're

Yachi: I'll let Sensei know and you can ytext when you're herer and i'll get him!!!

Yachi: *text **here ***I'll

She'd done as much. The sick lurching from the first time she'd read and replied to the messages lingered long after, lingers even now. It had lingered through the short work of tracking down Sensei, and through the short conversation in which she let him know what was going on with you. It had lingered through her teeth, her closed-lipped smile as she held her fear bundled up in her hyperactive heart. It lingered through the twenty minutes it took for you to send a follow-up text—I'm here! Can you send Sensei to find me?—and through watching Takeda-sensei slip out of the gym to speak with you. And then, in the time since then, it wells up and threatens to spill over.

She glances at the clock on the wall, protected by a dented cage. You've been talking to Sensei for almost half an hour.

"Hitoka-chan."

She screams, the towels she'd been carrying to hand out going flying at Shimizu's sudden voice behind her. Shimizu moves effortlessly, glides as she collects the dropped towels. Hitoka babbles as she joins her, some sort of overblown apology, made worse by her awareness of the guys on break looking at the source of the scream.

"Are you alright? You're looking paler than usual."

"O-oh, I'm fine!" she stammers, failing to pick up one of the dropped towels. "It's nothing! R-really!"

Shimizu hums, peering at her with a worried look, and she's screwing up again, she's making such a pretty woman worry about her, she's such a failure, such a—

"Are you overheated? You have to watch your temperature in this heat. It won't do any good if you get heat exhaustion."

No, her brain replies, emphatic. She's not going home, she can't, she needs to be here—

"I'm not overheating! I-I just don't want [surname]-chan to quit, t-that's all!"

"Quit?" Nishinoya repeats behind her, stunned.

She drops the collected towels all over again.

"Did she say anything about that?" Shimizu asks, and Yachi fights the urge to dig her nails into her arm to calm down.

"N-no, she didn't say anything, I just—she just—[surname]-chan was g-gonna come back today, but then she randomly said she couldn't b-because she was feeling sick, and t-then she came anyway to talk to Sensei about s-something? A-and they've been talking for a while, a-and maybe she's—maybe she's quitting because—"

She slaps her hands over her mouth. The sick feeling is finally gone—no more tension, only horror, racing horror through her veins.

She wasn't supposed to say anything.

Now you're going to be mad. Furious. Livid. How is she ever supposed to keep friends if she can't even listen to something as simple as a "don't mention this thing to anyone"? How is she ever—

Nishinoya snaps his fingers in her face and her out of her spiral. At some point, he crouched in front of her, expression serious. "You're gonna give yourself a panic attack. You gotta stop thinking like that!"

Easy for you to say, her mind supplies bitterly, and then she instantly feels worse for having thought it.

He laughs, smile wide. "True, it is easy! Y'know why?"

Oh my god I said that out loud—

"[name]-san doesn't wanna say it, but she really likes it here. She was really happy when I gave her the card and stuff from everyone, y'know? When I checked on her before bed that night, she was just looking at it and smiling. And she's always asking how everyone's doing when I come home. And when the doctor mentioned that she might not be able to go to the next training camp, depending on how smoothly her recovery goes—she'll be coming, with the way she's been improving—she got so pouty. She definitely wants to come back, you just gotta trust her."

"Y-you really think she's gonna stay…?"

He nods. "You should've seen the way her eyes lit up when she was talking to Nee-san about the team the other day. She tries to pretend like she's all aloof and doesn't really care, and she's definitely getting caught up thinking we don't want her here no matter what I tell her, but I can basically guarantee that the idea of quitting has never even occurred to her."

That…

is comforting, actually.

Maybe.

A little bit.

"You're… really serious about [surname]-chan, aren't you?" she asks.

His smile only widens. "Of course! I'm gonna get to a thousand proposals and marry her, you know!"

Impossibly, her heart does lighten a little. "W-well, if you're so sure she's not going anywhere, then I guess I can believe it, too."

He smiles. Nods. Darts off to chatter at Tanaka about something to do with you… sleeping with noodles? She definitely missed something.

"He really does act different when it comes to her," Shimizu notes mildly.

"D-do you think so?"

She nods. "He's been flirting with me since last year—if you can call it that—but… I dunno. It's like he actually calms down when he's talking about her."

"I wish I had someone like that," she sighs.

Shimizu raises an eyebrow. "Like him?"

"No! I-I'm sure he's perfectly fine, I just mean—someone I can be calm around. You know?"

She smiles. Tilts her head. "I get that."

~

Mei is fun to cook with. You talked to Takeda, worked out the menu and timing, and talked to him about your staggered return to practice. It was a good conversation, and you left with notes and a shopping list, and then left the store with the needed groceries. Mei lets you take the lead on cooking, helps you out dutifully while letting you control, and for a while, it's peaceful.

Then Satsuki comes downstairs.

She's in sleep shorts and a tank top, and she grabs a soda out of the fridge seemingly before she notices either of you. "Mornin'," she says, rubbing sleep from her eye.

"Morning," you chirp back.

"Satsuki, it's one in the afternoon," Mei chides.

"Afternoon, then," she corrects. "It's summer. When else am I gonna sleep in?"

"I guess, but…"

"Eh, let her," you shrug. "At some point we're gonna have jobs and have to beg our bosses for the chance to sleep in two days in a row. Might as well milk it now, you know?"

"See, you say that, but didn't you basically sign all that away for the volleyball club?" Satsuki teases. "Yuu, like, never sleeps in."

"Senpai's insane, though. He just like, wakes up alert. He lays down to sleep at a normal time and actually falls asleep. It's freak behavior, if you ask me."

Satsuki stifles a laugh. "Yeah, I don't know where that came from. Jii-chan's like that, too. It freaks me out. Morning people."

You clasp a hand over your chest in mock horror. "Monsters walking among us!"³¹

Her expression shifts into something more teasing as you turn back to preparing food. "Oh, speaking of: I noticed someone's been sleeping in his room at night."

"What can I say? Soba loves me."

Mei stifles a laugh. "I don't think she was talking about Soba."

You roll your eyes. "I felt bad making him sleep in the hallway, that's all."

"That's all? Ms. Single, I'm starting to think you might be a bit of a heartbreaker."

You set aside the prepped ingredients for now—you have to wait for the rice to finish cooking before you do anything else. When you turn, Satsuki has hopped up to sit herself on the counter, one elbow propped up against the side of the fridge. "I'm not a heartbreaker."

"So, you're in love with my brother, and/or in denial about being in love with my brother."

You cough, brushing past her to grab a drink of your own. "You Nishinoyas are really good at jumping to conclusions. Where did you even get that?"

"So I landed on something? If you're not leading him on, then you have feelings for him. I don't think that's a wild assumption to make."

You roll your eyes. "Noya-senpai and I are friends. That's it. I don't deny that he thinks I'm pretty; he's made that glaringly obvious, but teenage hormones are a hell of a drug. He'll get bored of me and give up soon enough."

"Denial, then," Satsuki nods.

"I hate to have to tell you this," Mei says, "but, um, have you met Yuu? He doesn't give up. Like, ever."

"Especially not with pretty girls. Like it or not, babygirl, he's not giving up on you until you're taken, and even then, probably not until you outright reject him. Do you have any idea how much time he's spent trying to catch the attention of girls who think they can wait him out?"

…oh. Yeah, you do. You're not exactly blind. You shrug. "Yeah, exactly. I'm not special. He'll find some prettier girl with less problems, of which you'll find there are many, and drop the idea."

"[name]-chan…" Mei breathes, brows drawn together with sympathy.

"You know that he's not gonna give up just because you're a little broken, right?"

"Uh, Satsuki—"

Satsuki rolls her eyes at Mei. "What? We're all broken here. So's Yuu. He's just better at not paying attention to his broken parts. If anything, I think he probably likes her better because she's not all perfect and flawless. Can't really relate to a doll, y'know?"

You drop into one of the seats at the table, resting your chin in your hand and carefully schooling your expression as Mei turns to chiding Satsuki for being too blunt.

It's not like anything said today has been news, except maybe the comment about Noya being just as broken, and even then, hardly. But it's easy to forget about the way Noya leaps for any shred of attention from Shimizu, the way he'll sometimes double-take at some pretty girl in the hall when you're taking lunch together, the way he fucking… audibly growls if he thinks some random dude might be interested in your senior manager. It's easy to forget all that with the way he looks at you.

He hasn't given up on her just because you're in the picture. Because you're not special enough for that.

It's not like he doesn't really feel something for you. He's made abundantly clear how pretty he thinks you are and how much he wants to be around you, and you don't think that's diminished just because he thinks other girls are beautiful or wants to be around them. He really, genuinely, feels all of that for every girl. But…

You let a sigh pass your lips.

What happens when he finds an equally pretty girl who gives him what he deserves? Will he give up on you, then? If you gave in, you doubt he'd stop thinking every girl alive is beautiful. If you gave him more, he'd only…

"Anyway, [name]-chan!" Satsuki shouts suddenly, pointing at you with dramatic flair. "All that's to say, I'm not gonna get into Yuu's shit with you if he hasn't told you himself, but he does genuinely like you and he's not just fucking around. Nor is he gonna drop you just because you've got some shit going on. You don't have to do this whole, clam up and protect yourself thing."

You raise an eyebrow. Now's not the time to depress yourself over things that hardly matter to you. "Uh-huh?"

"Uh-huh! If you're not gonna make out with me, and you're not gonna hurt him, then go for it."

You huff a laugh. "Right. I don't plan to hurt him, but you know everyone hurts everyone eventually, right? I've made my stance with him clear enough, so if he gets hurt… I'm not gonna say it's not gonna be my fault, but I will say I'm not going out of my way to hurt him."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that at some point, I'm gonna blow up, because again, broken, and if I'm too close, it's gonna hurt him. But like, I don't say shit I don't mean. If he actually keeps up with the proposals and shit and makes it to a thousand, I'm still gonna marry him. Even if I think it's a horrible idea on his part. Hell, if he manages it a thousand times and I'm already in a relationship with someone else, I'll break up with them."

She leans forward, nearly tumbling off the counter. Mei steadies her quickly, muttering a careful! in admonishment. "Oho," she says, not missing a beat, "interesting. When do we get to start calling you our sister-in-law?"

"Slow down. He hasn't even made it to a hundred yet."

"Uh-huh. How many is he up to?"

"Sixty-seven," you reply automatically.

"I think he's making good time. You're, what, fifteen?"

"Sixteen," you mutter.

"So he's got four years before you're actually legally able to marry him, he started talking about you like two months ago, and he's averaging more than one proposal a day. He's actually gonna have to slow down if the wedding is coming right after proposal 1000."

You shrug. "Assuming he doesn't give up."

"Again, this is Yuu we're talking about. Even if you got a boyfriend in the meantime, he'd probably punch the dude just to get to keep asking you so he doesn't lose time. Face it, you're either going back on your word, or you're gonna be a Nishinoya."

You don't know how to respond to that. The inside of your cheek is a little raw from where you've been chewing it. Are you stupid to be this serious about what was initially a joke? Are you stupid to hedge your bets on him giving up on you? It's not like you don't like his family. It's not like you don't like it here.

Mei pipes up from where she'd been lost in thought, tilting her head. "When was your birthday? It would've already passed if you're sixteen and a first year."

You wouldn't normally want to tell her, but if this conversation does not change subject ASAP, you're going to explode. "Couple weeks ago. The seventh."

Satsuki grins. "He's gonna be mad that you didn't tell him, you know."

"He'll get over it. I don't like people making a big deal over me."

Mei stifles a laugh. "You're a weird pair, then."

"I'm gathering. Do me a favor and don't tell him?"

Satsuki hums thoughtfully. "Mm, I'll think about it."

~

Somehow, you manage to keep a sea of prepared food away from Noya's prying eyes. The kitchen is cleaned before he gets back from practice—reasonably late, all things considered—and Satsuki has started in on making dinner, since it's her night. You and Mei let her in on the surprise, so she puts herself to work bossing Noya right out of the kitchen with a teasing go bother your girlfriend, this is a no boys allowed zone today. You're happy to let him flop dramatically across your lap as long as he lets you rest your book on top of him and he doesn't look in the fridge.

He scrabbles for the TV remote, apparently intent on replacing Soba for the night, and you stop yourself halfway to poking at a new bruise on the back of his calf.

You turn back to your book and try not to sigh. Perceptive bastard's gonna notice anyway, but you're trying not to let him, even if your throat feels like cotton when you try to talk to him.

Stop being ridiculous, you chide yourself sternly. It doesn't seem to work.

You just can't get your head off everything. You don't even know why it fucking bothers you.

You sigh. Catch his waist when he reaches too far and nearly falls off your lap. He successfully retrieves the remote, and grins up at you with his thanks.

"Fell for you," he teases quietly.

"Stupid," you reply. "You're gonna get yourself hurt."

Chapter Text

16 - stick around

Soba doesn't join you in bed that night. The door is left cracked for her, but it's just you and Noya, and this, of course, sucks. You need your cuddle buddy tonight more than ever. Instead, you're left listening to Noya's quiet breaths as he sleeps within arm's reach of you. He'd fallen asleep in an instant after returning from the shower. You haven't pulled shit like that since elementary school. Bastard.

You turn over to look at him. He's laid on his back, thin blanket draped over his stomach, arms splayed out.

He really is pretty. He doesn't wear a shirt to bed—probably a subtle flirt, but he's not exactly known for his subtlety, and anyway it's so fucking hot at this time of year that you're more willing to believe it's just way too hot to bother with. You probably wouldn't be wearing a shirt either, if you were sleeping in your own room and your own bed. He's even kind of pretty when his snores start filling the quiet space.

He doesn't give up on a girl for anything. Would he stop looking at other girls if you let him actually have you? Would it even be fair to ask of him? If you were actually together, watching him get all jealous-possessive every time a random dude looked Shimizu's way would probably drive you off the deep end.

Woah, wait, hold on. You're not going down that path. That's stupid. You know damn well that he wouldn't be happy with you. You're not going to inflict yourself on him, so who's talking about a relationship?

Step one to not doing that shit: stop watching him sleep.

Your eye catches on his phone by his pillow—not plugged in. Could die overnight. Then you wouldn't have your morning Soba and you'd be thrown off all day, and maybe something happens at school and you can't text him, and—

You reach for his phone before you can spiral much further. It's just a bit too far out of reach for your fingers—it slips beneath your fingertips, slides just a few millimeters further away. "Damn you," you whisper, straining for it, "I'm trying to be nice, here!"

A hand closes around your wrist, brown eyes bolting open to stare directly into yours. You fight the urge to shriek, stare right back into the abyss. In the dark room, his eyes almost look black.

"Um." Shit. Why is your voice shaking?

"Oh!" His expression softens, ironclad grip on your wrist loosening. "Sorry. What are you doing?" He talks like he didn't just pull some horror movie shit, voice gravelly with sleep. You're vindicated to know he at least needs some sort of transition from sleep to perfectly alert.

"You, uh, forgot to charge your phone. I was gonna plug it in for you."

"Oh, shit, thanks. Here." He releases your wrist, pushes his phone into your reach. "Didn't even think about it. What are you doing up?"

"Can't sleep," you mutter, forcing down the unpleasant feeling in your stomach. You turn over before he can catch your expression and start prying, fumble for the extra charging cord near your head.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you say, too quickly. "Go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you up."

You can already feel his "I don't believe you" look on your back. There's a shuffling. You're pretty sure he just sat up.

"Stop looking at me like that," you grumble.

"Tell me what's wrong, then."

"No. It's stupid."

"[name]-san…"

"Maybe I'm just grumpy because Soba abandoned me to a cold, unforgiving world, never to get another good night's sleep."

He chuckles. "She didn't abandon you. She's just a free spirit."

"A free spirit who left me. What's a girl gotta do to find someone loyal around here?"

"I'm loyal," he replies. "I'm very loyal. In fact, I'm the most loyal. Ever."

"Sure," you reply, too bitterly. God, it's like you want him to figure out what's wrong with you.

He doesn't respond for a moment. There's no fucking way he knows what prompted that comment, no way he knows you've said too much, but the silence bothers you. You turn to look at him just in time for him to move and drop onto the futon beside you. "Fine then. You're not getting rid of me until you go home."

"Wait, that's not what I was—"

"Or until you tell me to go, I guess," he continues, draping a warm arm over your side. "but please don't."

You should hit him. Shove him away, tell him you're not together and this is too much. Go home tomorrow, maybe, and stop responding to texts, and—

"You're so stupid," you say instead, wriggling out of his grasp.

"Too far? Sorry, I can—"

"Get under the blanket, idiot." What? Stop that— "You're gonna catch a cold."

—oh my god.

You have no time to regret whatever stupid shit your mouth is doing, against all logic. He's lightning-quick in joining you beneath the blanket, lightning-quick in pulling your back flush against his bare chest. Your heartbeat thunders in traitorous reply.

He's so… warm. Probably too warm to comfortably sleep against in the early August heat, if we're being realistic. His arms are firm. Safe.

Your bottom lip quivers, and you will yourself to keep it together. Part of you is dimly aware that this, all of this, is firmly in the realm of not normal friend behavior, made worse by him in his boxers and you in the skimpiest sleep clothes you can still argue are modest enough for anyone else to see you in. You've only known each other for, like, six weeks or something.

So not only is cuddling up like this abnormal, but also, all of this is stupid. Of course he wouldn't drop his feelings for another girl after knowing you for a few weeks. He shouldn't. It's not like he loves you or anything, anyway. He's horny. He's a horny teenager with a taste criteria that somehow includes you. That's all this has ever been.

There's no reason to feel like this.

"Hey," he breathes against your neck. "You're shaking."

"Sorry, I—fuck—" You turn over, crash your face into his chest in a futile attempt to hide as the first tears slip out.

"Oh, [name]-san. I got you, c'mere," he breathes, adjusting to hold you as you cling to him. "What did I do?"

You shake your head. He hasn't done anything wrong, really. You just walked yourself into crying because, what, your best friend thinks pretty women are pretty? God. You need a fucking lobotomy.

"'Sjust my head," you mumble, choking on the tears. "That's all."

"The head trauma, or are you overthinking?"

"Both, I think."

"I'm a really great listener," he says as he rubs soothing circles into your back, "if you wanted to try to work it out."

"You can't help me with this."

"I can try."

"You really can't."

He lets a beat of silence pass. "Okay. I can't. What can I do?"

"Just—just stay?"

God, you hate yourself. The way your voice is coming out—all shaky, all quiet, all weak and pathetic. Like you're a child.

"Of course. I was never going anywhere."

"Even if I'm stupid."

"You're not, but I'll stay anyway."

"…okay. Thank you." You shift, try to relax in less of a death-grip hug and more of a… casual cuddle. Rest a hand on his chest, then pick it up and adjust again. Adjust a third time. It occurs to you that there is no way to be casual about this.

A hand comes up to pat your head. "I swear I'm not trying to tease you right now, but I can actually feel you blushing. If you're not comfortable—"

"Shut up," you mutter, interrupted by a straggling sniffle. "I just haven't done this before."

"I'm just saying, if you're comfy, then I'm comfy. Relax and let your Senpai worry about you, okay?"

"…okay."

So you relax. Settle your head on his chest properly. Let the hand whose position you couldn't settle on drape across him, rest on his shoulder. Inhale slowly and try to get your head back together.

You're being ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. You're running away with a bunch of assumptions about a scenario that wouldn't come to pass in the first place, and for what? Now you're going to have to do damage control on this entire breakdown, before you lead the poor guy on because you're not the one driving your fucking brain or body or soul.

Step one: stop the silent tears and calm down.

Easy enough. You've calmed yourself a million times before without any help. Just focus on the sensory. Ground yourself here.

Noya smells nice. Clean. The scent of soap clings to his skin from his shower, and the skin itself is smooth beneath your fingertips. Under the skin is firm muscle, honed from, you assume, years of volleyball. You're kind of feeling him up right now, but you can't help it—you let yourself be entranced with the way his muscle flexes beneath your palm and the lazy drag of his hand down your back. It's grounding.

Your fingers find a little disruption in his skin—a little bump, a thin ridge of scar tissue. You've never noticed a scar there before. You let yourself follow it to its edge, trace it back curiously. You kind of wanna ask him about it.

"This… this doesn't mean anything," you say instead.

His hand pauses before changing direction to drag slowly up your spine. "Of course not. Strictly platonic."

"I just don't wanna take advantage of you. You're a really great guy."

A soft laugh. "I'm glad you think so. I don't think you're taking advantage of me."

"You should—" You freeze. The next words on your lips hadn't been the right ones. You correct yourself and try again. "You should give up on me."

He hums softly, the noise a buzz beneath your ear. "Why?"

"I'm gonna hurt you."

"On purpose?" He shifts beneath you to tilt his head.

"Not—not on purpose—of course not, I just… shit starts going bad or my head goes down the wrong path and I lash out and I self-destruct and I hurt people and I have to test or I'm never gonna be convinced and—"

"You don't have to test me."

"I didn't have to test my parents, either," you sniffle. "Or Kasumi. Okay—maybe with Kasumi. And—you know I had friends at one point? Like actual friends who aren't just putting up with me because it makes them look cool if I'm hanging around?"

"We aren't just putting up with you to make ourselves look cool," he mutters.

You ignore him. "But I'm the one who kept pushing for proof that my friends actually liked me, and guess what? No one ever liked me enough to tolerate that shit. Kasumi cheated because of it, my friends stopped talking to me because of it. And they were right to. It's probably fucking horrible to put up with. I deserved to get abandoned for that shit, but I can't stop it. I know I'm being an idiot the whole time. It doesn't matter. I'm not the one driving my body until I have to deal with all the shit I just blew up. You shouldn't have to put up with someone who does that."

"I can't imagine what it's like being stuck in your head when that's happening," he coos sympathetically, and irritation blooms in your chest. He's not taking you seriously. "I'm sorry that happened. You didn't deserve any of that."

"Are you even listening?" you mutter. "I'm a toxic piece of shit."

"[name]-san." His voice is just a little sharp, just enough to make you pick your head up off his chest. "I have to ask. Are you testing me right now?"

…oh.

"Not… not on purpose," you admit meekly. "I wasn't—see, this is what I'm trying to protect you from. I'm sorry, I—I hate myself, you know? I really hate myself. I hate that I do this. I hate all of it."

"Well, I don't hate you."

"You should."

"You can't make me." He sticks out his tongue at you playfully. "I appreciate that you like me enough to try to protect me, but trust me, [name]-san. Please try to trust me."

"You're going to get hurt." At the back of your mind, quieter: you're going to hurt me.

"Everyone gets hurt. It's life. It happens. If I let myself be scared by the possibility that you might, like, reject me or go out with another guy or something, I'd be the same as the scared little kid I used to be."

Right. He said something about that before. "It's really hard to picture you being all quiet and stuff. I tried to layer Mei's personality over your face and it just doesn't feel right."

He laughs softly. "Yeah, I guess I've changed a lot. But I used to be scared of basically everything. If we'd met Soba too soon, I would have been terrified of her, too. I just kind of… learned to deal with it. Jii-chan's stricter than he looks, you know. Always says it's a waste to be afraid, that it's a waste to not do something just because I'm scared it might hurt me."

Oh. That's where he's going with that. You're both quiet for a moment; he's waiting, you realize, for you to do something. You simply look him in the eyes.

"I'm not gonna waste a chance to be close to you because you're scared you might hurt me, either. At the absolute worst, it'll be a learning experience, but I trust you, you know?"

The tears are welling up all over again. You bite down on your lip harshly, willing them not to fall. "You're amazing. That kind of fearlessness is amazing. You don't even know me."

He pushes to sit up a little. You move with him, pull back enough for him to look you in the eye. "Then, how about this? I'll keep up with my proposals, because a thousand is a big number to get through—"

"—and I'll stick around long enough for you to get to know me," you finish in a whisper. What's worse: that he remembers saying that to you, over a month ago by now, or that you remember it word-for-word? "Maybe by the time you reach a thousand, I'll be ready to believe you mean it."

A smile flicks to his lips. It's one of the rare ones, one of the ones you don't see when he's talking to the guys—small, yet it lights up his whole body. He tugs you forward, crashing you into his chest again, and the pair of you fall back onto the futon with a soft bounce. "You remembered."

"Of course I did," you mumble.

"Is this a bad time to ask you to marry me?"

A laugh of your own. "No, but you're gonna have to ask me nine hundred and thirty-two more times."

"I can work with that."

You smile in spite of yourself. Adjust for comfort. Nuzzle into his side. "…g'night, Senpai."

He mumbles, already half-asleep, in reply.

~

Somehow, you aren't excited to return to practice. Satsuki walks with you, to help you carry the lunches and to make sure you can make it alright after everything. Also, apparently, to force you to go through with it. It's not like she knows why you're suddenly filled with dread at the thought—you tell her it's because you're certain they won't want to see you, and she seems to accept that as an answer.

In reality, it's more to do with how you woke up: a leg slung over Noya's waist, face smushed into the crook of his neck. You're not sure if you're the one who practically climbed on top of him or if it's more to do with how close he pulled you in his own sleep—both arms around you, a warm hand having slipped under your shirt to rest on your waist, the other casually resting on your ass. You'd pretended to sleep a little longer, mostly to figure out whether or not he was purposely feeling you up, but when he'd woken up, he'd jerked his hand away with a whispered swear so emphatic that you'd swear your ass burned him.

He'd also used enough force that you'd had no choice but to pretend you were just waking up, which resulted in his panicked, red-faced exit—a rare sight. He'd avoided you all morning, so you made it easier for him by pretending to go back to sleep until he left, early, for practice.

So now you've got lunches for the guys, anxiety that probably no one actually wants you there, and the knowledge that for maybe the first time in his entire life, Noya is freaking out because of you, so things are either going to be really funny (not likely) or really awkward when you get there. That, or he'll have done that Noya thing and effortlessly stopped thinking about it and it'll be like nothing happened at all.

You've also got Satsuki refusing to let you back out.

She walks with you all the way to the gym, sits back and watches with you in the doorway as you watch their practice sets. Hinata's playing a little rough—probably worried about you, if you had to guess, which makes you feel even guiltier. No one notices you yet, which lets you fully take everything in: Hinata's on the B team, Kageyama on the A team and setting to Narita.

"Weird. Yuu never leaves his hair down when he goes out," Satsuki mutters to you as you watch.

And oh, there he is. If you hadn't spent the past week at his house and caught him fresh out the shower so many times, you wouldn't recognize him. You whisper back, "he was kind of in a rush this morning." You neglect to mention the reason for said rush. You don't even want to know what Satsuki would say about… literally any part of the equation.

She raises an eyebrow. "Really? Yuu was? He's been doing so good at getting out of the house on time recently. I guess he was overdue for a crazy morning."

You nod, leaning against the door frame as you watch Suga set to Hinata. They're having trouble syncing up, it seems—is that today, or in general, you wonder?—and Hinata barely manages to get the ball back over the net with his fingertips. Noya gets there, gets the ball off the floor for Kageyama to work with. He sets to Asahi, who smashes it through a two-man block.³² You can't see the score from here—Yachi and Shimizu, along with the scoreboard, are set up with backs to you at the moment.

Still they don't notice you. You suppose they're too in the zone—everyone covered in sweat from the heat, focused hard on beating the other team before lunch. Ukai catches you out of the corner of his eye and nods a little. You hold up one finger—let them go for one more point, and he nods again.

Asahi's up next to serve. You blink in surprise—he's starting farther back from the line than usual. The reason why quickly becomes clear—he tosses the ball up, jumps after three swift steps forward to hit it—

And is cut off by Ukai's whistle.

"Azumane, watch your foot spacing when you approach. Your foot was over the line just now. That's a foot fault penalty, point goes to the opposing team."

He clicks his tongue. You let out an exaggerated groan. "Aw, come on. You couldn't let it slide just so I could see this once?"

You swear to god, the sudden turn of fourteen heads to look at you at once makes an audible noise. Before you can make some awkward greeting, there's a scream that rattles your brain a little bit, and then you're stumbling back as someone crashes into your chest. Satsuki steadies you with a hand on your back as you get your bearings—Yachi is actively crying, for some reason?

"U-um?" you manage, eyes flicking nervously to the gathering guys. "Y-Yachi-san? You good?"

"You—hic—you came back!" she cries.

"Uh—yeah, I—I just had a concussion, you know? It's not like I was gonna die or something—"

She looks up at you pitifully. "I-I thought you might quit," she admits. "I mean, y-you got hurt and everything, and then you were supposed to come back but spent a really long time talking to Takeda-sensei, a-and…"

"What? No! I just really didn't feel up to it yesterday, but still needed to talk to Sensei a-about my return protocol and everything, that's all. And like, pick up my summer homework. Which I can't really work on yet, on account of the broken brain."

"Sorry," she says, hiccuping a little. "I'm sorry, I—"

"Oh, no, don't you start, I—Nee-san, can you take these? I need hands."

Satsuki takes the bags you're carrying. You awkwardly return the Yachi hug, not fully processing. You meet Shimizu's eyes in distress, and she smiles, approaching to rub Yachi's back. "Hitoka-chan was really worried. I think we all were."

"W-well, uh… Dammit, I had my whole script in my head, I was gonna be so cool, and now—" A sigh. "Sorry for worrying you, Yachi-san. Save your tears for someone more important to you, alright?"

"You are important to me!" she insists.

You fluster, unable to even consider a response to that. Instead, you cast a desperate look to a snickering Noya, who's come to take the bags from Satsuki.

"What's all this?" he asks.

"[name]-chan, want me to tell 'em?"

"Uh, yeah, sure, I—sorry, I'm kind of short-circuiting?"

Satsuki nods and points to you with a sheepish grin. "This one wanted to do something for her return, so she spent a lot of yesterday in the kitchen. I'm just extra hands. And a chaperone to make sure she could handle the walk alright."

"Wait." Tanaka's face is blank. "[name]-san, you didn't—"

"If you guys don't enjoy it, you're getting lukewarm water for the rest of summer break," you joke-threaten as Yachi finally pries herself from you with a sniffle. "Coach, it's alright to steal them for lunch, right? Or should I put these somewhere?"

"Go ahead," Ukai nods. "All of you, back from lunch in an hour or so. Take some time to welcome back your manager and rest up before we're back at it."

There's more tears—a stricken Tanaka, floored alongside Noya at the thought of, apparently, a girl choosing to cook food for him to eat—as Satsuki leaves you to the volleyball club's mercy. A million thank yous, no less than four hugs (two from Noya). You're allowed to help pass out the bentos you made with Mei, but not to clean up, and while you eat, you get to kick back and talk for a while. Everyone's more than happy to get you up to date.

Then a nervous look from Hinata as the guys disperse and help clean up, a tentative approach.

"Um, [surname]-san…" he manages weakly.

"Hm? What's up?"

He bows so hard and so deep that you're honestly afraid he's gonna give himself a concussion. "I-I'm really sorry about what happened to your head! I really didn't mean to hit you, I'm so sorry that—"

"Woah, hey, none of that!" you say quickly, holding both hands up in defense. "In the first place, I probably wasn't paying enough attention. I know by now to not let my guard down in the volleyball gym. But second of all, I literally don't even remember it. If Noya-senpai hadn't told me what happened when I asked, I would literally have no idea, and I'm not blaming you or getting mad about something I don't even remember."

"But—"

"Third of all," you interrupt, "you did me a huge favor, actually. I got to skip the last week of the term. You know, the completely pointless week where teachers don't really know what to do because there's not a test to prepare for and they expect you to deliberately forget as much as possible when you're out of class for the entire month afterwards? I've basically been on vacation. The other day I tried to get up and put my plate in the sink and six people started glaring at me until I went to go play with a cat instead. I'm getting downright pampered. I'm pretty sure they would have sent me to a spa if I'd have let them. So while I appreciate that you care enough to apologize, Hinata, I promise you're okay. It's not necessary."

He sighs in relief. "Thank goodness… if there's anything I can do to make up for it, you'll let me know, right?"

You smile. "Sure, Hinata."

All things considered, your triumphant return to managing is really nice. You stay close to the girls—Noya gravely asked Shimizu to keep an eye on you, marking the most normal conversation he may have ever had with her—and talk and help out, and you feel useful. More than that, you feel wanted.

Your admittedly ambitious goal for the day was to stay until Ukai released the boys for individual practice, and after Hinata's apology, you really do try. The noise and activity level in the gym get to you faster than you expected, though, so you only make it to about 4 PM before you have to call Satsuki to come walk you home. You're reluctant to go, wish you could stay longer. It's almost enough to admit to yourself:

You're kinda glad you joined the volleyball club.

Chapter Text

16.5 - take a load off

Waking up with you in his arms is a nostalgic reminder of what panic feels like.

It's not the fact that you're cuddled up to him—Noya clearly remembers last night, clearly remembers the way his heart soared when you told him to join you under the blanket, the feeling of your hand tracing the lines of his shoulder, your head tucked under his chin. Sure, he hadn't quite believed it was happening—how could he? You'd gone from friendly teasing and begrudgingly going along with his "jokes" to sighing into his touch in such a short time—but he'd known it was happening, been over the moon that it was.

No, the panic comes more from the fact that, overnight, you'd both shifted tremendously. He wakes up to something soft squishing against his chest, soft breaths against his neck. Something else distinctly soft in his hand, and a thigh slung over his hip, dangerously, dangerously close to his early morning hard-on. A twitch of his fingers confirms his suspicions—he's groping your ass in your sleep. He thanks the gods for waking up this way, even if it never happens again, and lets his mind race to a solution for how the fuck to get up in a way that ensures that it can ever happen again.

Panic, layer two: Noya has not cum a single time since your concussion, since you started sleeping on his floor and he stopped having a private space to get off. It's the longest he's gone without masturbating since he figured out how it worked, and pent up doesn't begin to describe his current predicament. If you shift in your sleep, if you brush against his morning wood even a little, he swears to the gods he's going to cum on the spot. Combine that with the fact that he accidentally ended up molesting you in your sleep—nevermind the fact that he'd also been asleep for 99% of it—and if you wake up to any of this, you're never going to forgive him, and he's going to have to live with the knowledge that his future wife now hates him.

So he jerks his hand off your ass, barely stops himself from swearing too loudly. Wills himself not to blush too hard as you shift, eyes drifting open to look at him. Your hair's a mess, eyes half-lidded with concern, and your shirt's twisted and ridden up dangerously overnight.

"S'npai?" you mumble, and fuck. Your voice shoots straight to his dick.

He needs to go shower, right now, immediately.

"Gotta get ready," he says, voice cracking a little even though it hasn't done that in at least two years. "Go back to sleep, alright?"

You nod, nuzzle into his side a little.

You are not helping.

You're just so goddamn affectionate when you're sleepy.

Realistically, the project to extract himself from your hold goes quickly, but in his mind, it's an eternity, every shift and breath an exercise in cardio as he searches for the right way to get up without risking you noticing how painfully—actually painfully—hard he is. When he's free, he retreats, barely remembering to grab a clean outfit for the day on his way out.

The safety of the shower welcomes him, with the door locked and the water either ready to soothe him (it won't) or at least muffle his groans when he finally gets his hand on his dick.

Relief comes with a pained hiss—he's not sure he's ever been this turned on in his life and you didn't even really do anything—as he spreads his precum down his length, already dribbling and definitely having left a stain in his boxer shorts.

From the way your hand felt in his before and the way it rested against his shoulder, Noya figures that your hands are probably about the same size. They're also softer than his. On most occasions, he'd lament the fact that his hands, like most of the rest of his body, were smaller than the average guy, but now? Knowing that your hands match, knowing how easy it is to imagine your hand on his dick instead of his own?

He closes his eyes, breathing already ragged at the thought.

He jerks himself fast and desperate—lately, he had been experimenting with taking his time cumming, working himself up slowly to completion, having seen something online somewhere about how much better it feels to cum when you slow down along the way, but that had been before your head injury, before he suddenly found himself sleeping hardly two meters away from the love of his life (either not into him or not willing to admit to being into him), before he'd gone nearly a full week without getting off even once. Certainly before waking up with your entire body pressed against his.

He presses his forehead against the cool tile wall, lets the hot water hit his back. Lets himself swear into the steam, trusts the water to shroud his voice from the risk of someone—his family, or worse, you—hearing him moan as he twists his wrist just so.

Fuck, if you'd have him, he wouldn't have to be like this. What he wouldn't give to be able to grope you shamelessly, wake you up with a hand down the front of your shirt. Better yet, to be able to shove it up and out of the way entirely to feel those soft tits in his hands instead of pressed against his side. He bets you'd be sensitive, bets that the first time he gets his mouth on those pretty tits, you'll let out one of your little surprised yelps, wind a hand into his hair, let him have his way.

His dick throbs harshly in his hand at the thought. Would you ever let him? He's thought of "accidentally" walking in on you a million times since your concussion, dreamed of a hundred convoluted situations where he's the only one available to help you get your clothes off so you can get changed and you never quite make it to getting clothes back on.

The thought spurs him on almost as much as the memory of you filling up his t-shirt—he remembers with perfect clarity the way it hung off of you, the places it stretched more snugly on you than it would on him, the way it strained over those tits—

The hand on his cock freezes. He bites down on his lip hard to avoid groaning too loudly at the thought. He's not ready to cum yet, not ready to stop thinking about you.

Not that he can stop. No, his mind just drifts elsewhere, to the shape of the word Senpai in your mouth, not the sweet way you call his name when you want something, but more desperate, more needy, whining for him. To the catch of your plush lip between your teeth when you're lost in thought, like you don't know what you're doing when you space out in his direction looking like that. The way your thighs look in his shorts, or better yet, those tiny sleep shorts you brought from your place, so short he almost swears you want him to think of you like this.

He braces his free arm against the wall, presses his forehead into the crook of his elbow. He's such an asshole for doing this while you're hurt, after the night you just had, crying because you were worried about him being so close to you.

He lets out a hoarse laugh and returns to slowly pumping his length, picking up speed little by little. If he gets to kiss you, gets to touch you the way he wants even once and it'll all have been worth it. How would it feel with your thighs over his shoulder? How would you taste on his lips? If he took his time, if he played with you, if he stuck his face between your legs and just waited to take you in, would you squirm? Would you complain, tug at his hair, pout at him?

"Fuck," he groans. He's close, desperately close.

Someday, he's gonna wake you up—not the way he has been lately, getting up to feed Soba or get ready for practice, but slowly, his cock sliding between the plush of your thighs and his lips on your neck. The image of you in his mind loves it—lets out one of those sleepy little mumbles you've been blessing him with, falls back on quiet moans and teasy, breathy comments about how eager he is. The you in his mind pulls those little shorts to the side, revealing no panties, only a dripping pussy, and lets him slip inside, lets him make an absolute mess of you, lets him have his way until you're trembling underneath him.

He doesn't realize he's stroking himself faster until his mind has darted to another thought of you—not waking you up with his dick, but you after he's completely ruined your shorts and painted your thighs in his cum. You'd turn over, press a soft kiss to his lips. Sling an arm over him. Against his ear, you'd mumble, good morning, Senpai, the words dancing gracefully out of perfect lips.

He tumbles over the edge to the thought, broken moan almost too loud. His cum spatters long ropes against the shower walls as his knees buckle. He nearly slips, saved only by the fact that he'd braced himself against the wall earlier, and he mumbles a thank you under his breath as he strokes himself through orgasm.

When he's done, his hair and body cleaned and the evidence wiped off the shower wall, he goes through the motions of his morning with wooden precision: get dressed, grab bag, forget to put his hair up, avoid you—although you make it easy on him by coming down for breakfast and then immediately going back to sleep. He spaces out over his own breakfast, nearly has to run to make it to practice in time.

That day, he doesn't think a single guy on the team misses the chance to make fun of him for showing up with his hair down.

Chapter Text

17 - get some rest

Noya comes home late.

You might not have noticed; it's not like you're waiting up for him. You'd come home after practice, barely managed to pull out the futon, and immediately gone straight to bed. If he hadn't purposely woken you up, you probably wouldn't have noticed, but he shakes you awake when it's already well past dark out, gentle as he stirs you from a dead sleep.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" he asks while you're still blinking into the lamplight.

"Mrrrrgh," you tell him.

He laughs, soft and sweet, hand resting on you as you stare at him. "Okaa-san said you didn't come down for dinner. Wanna eat with me?"

"Didya just get home?" you mumble. "Time?"

"Yeah. It's like, nine or something. Got caught up in individual practice until they almost locked me in, so I haven't eaten yet. C'mon, I'm starving."

"You're late." You groan and push yourself to sit up. "I feel like it's s'posed to be my turn to wake you up, but fine."

So you follow him downstairs, let him set a reheated plate of food in front of you and sit across from you with his own. Sleepily set about eating.

"I was surprised to see you back today," Noya comments when you're both settled in. "At practice, I mean."

"Good. I wanted it t'be a surprise." You yawn, stretch a little. "Was everyone… like, do you think everyone liked the lunches?"

"Are you kidding? They were amazing. You did a great job."

A smile flicks to your lips. "I'm glad."

You watch him eat for a bit. He hasn't showered yet; his hair's still down.

"Why the hair change today, by the way?"

"Oh, that?" He laughs, a secret third kind of Noya laugh you haven't heard before. It sounds almost nervous. "Don't worry about it."

So you were right. It's definitely because of this morning. As much as you kind of wanna tease him for it, that has the chance to go down a path you're trying to avoid looking at. Also, requires acknowledging that you were awake and just sort of let it happen, which basically guarantees looking at that path you don't want to acknowledge the existence of.

So instead, you hum thoughtfully. "Took a little getting used to, but it looks nice."

He freezes, the bite of food that had been on its way to his mouth dropping back to the plate as he stares at you, cheeks growing red. "Y-you think so?"

"Yeah. Totally different vibe from your usual, but it does."

"Marry me" tumbles from his lips thoughtlessly, and you smile.

"Nine hundred thirty."

He finishes eating way before you—you blame his snakelike ability to unhinge his jaw and the fact that he's actually fully awake, while you're still recovering from your nap and eat like a normal human being—and watches you finish up, an uncharacteristic quiet settling between you. It's comfortable.

You're really comfortable with him.

"Do you want the rest?" you ask after a moment. "I'm kinda full, but I don't wanna waste it."

"Sure," he says. He takes the plate you push over, and you watch with amused horror as he polishes off the last bit of food in record time.

"You know, if I weren't so worried for your digestive system, I'd say you should go into those eating competitions professionally. There's that one American who does it, like, full time and gets all these sponsorships and stuff."³³

"You worry too much."

"Someone's gotta worry if you won't," you quip back, resting your head on your arms to look up at him. "Lucky for you, yours truly is fantastic at it."

"Yeah," he says. "You're great. You complete me, you know?" He flashes an easy grin. "So you've gotta marry me."

"Nine twenty-nine, and let me help clean up."

He raises an eyebrow. "You did a lot today. Are you sure?"

"I can wash one plate, Senpai. Probably even two plates. If I'm feeling ambitious, I might wash a fork, too."

"Woah, let's not get too crazy, here," he jokes. You bump shoulders with him as you come to stand beside him at the sink. He actually lets you help clean up, a fact that you sigh into.

"I'm glad everyone liked the lunches today," you say as you wash your plate. "Really. I was… kinda worried."

"Why? Your cooking's great."

"Not about the cooking. I mean, a little about the cooking. Just… you know. Insecure, I guess." The admission comes out too quiet, nearly lost in the sound of the sink. "I'm extra, you know? There's really not a need for there to be three managers for the team."

He's silent a minute. When you glance at him, he's staring out of the corner of his eye, realization widening his eyes and pursing his lips. "And you think you're the unneeded one."

A nod. "I guess. I mean, Shimizu-senpai's a third year and everyone loves her and also she actually knows what she's doing."

"…And Yachi-san did those posters," he realizes. "You were so weird after she first showed them to us."

Another nod. "I remember seeing them the first time and thinking… wow, she's amazing. What am I doing here?"

A hand rests on your waist, pulls you loosely into his side. You wrinkle your nose—he smells like sweat. Definitely hasn't showered yet. "And today? There's no way you still think you're extra after that reception."

You huff. "Guess not. I missed everyone. I like it here, but… I guess I sort of like going to practice with you guys and helping out."

"Marry me, then."

You laugh, turn your face into his shoulder to hide your smile. "You are really working them in tonight. Nine twenty-eight."

"What can I say? There's something about coming home to you that makes me wanna keep coming home to you."

Error: [name].exe has stopped responding. Reboot program?

…

Rebooting…

"I. Um." Fuck. Your face feels dangerously hot. "…n-nine twenty-seven."

His shoulders shake with poorly-stifled laughter. "I didn't even ask that time."

"T-that felt like one, okay? Shut up."

"You know, [name]-san, I'm starting to think you might be…"

"Whatever you're thinking of finishing that sentence with, shush."

He breaks into a grin. "Just a little bit of a tsundere, that's all."

"I said shut up!" You shove him away roughly. "Go take a shower or something. You smell gross. I'm not letting you cuddle me like that."

"So if I clean up, I get to—"

"Go!"

He mock-salutes you before darting out of the room. You remain standing at the kitchen sink, desperately trying to get your bearings.

How the fuck is he single? No, seriously, how the fuck? Is it the height thing? Has he just never had the chance to come out of nowhere with shit like that and completely floor some other unsuspecting girl?

Fucking hell. If he just acted around other girls the way he acted around you...

You shake your head. Dry your hands. Slip up the stairs to head to bed. With any luck, you'll be asleep again before he's done in the shower.

You're not optimistic about it, to be honest. Your mind is racing in a weird way—completely blank, but the blankness itself is at a high speed, which is odd to say. It occurs to you, faintly, that you suddenly are aware of what "!?!?!?" sounds like. Then there's footsteps coming down the hall towards your room, and you're forced to slam your eyes shut and turn over so your back is facing the door.

Tonight, he slumps into your futon with a contented sigh and a whispered good night. Tonight, he wriggles under your blanket with you, and tonight, you lay awake, count his breaths as he spoons you.

You're hyperaware that you need to stop this. That you need to pull back, for his sake and yours. Before you hurt him and rip your own heart out in the process. Before he hurts you just by being him—earnest, straightforward Noya. But it's one of those nights, and what you know and want takes a backseat to what you do.

Tonight, when his breathing slows and you're sure he's asleep, you trail a hand up his arm. (Stop it. Just go to sleep.) Tonight, you close a hand over his. (Stop it. Someone's gonna get hurt.) Tonight, you intertwine your fingers with his. (Stop it stop it stop it—)

(You do not stop it.)

(You fall asleep that way.)

(You're just so comfortable in his arms.)

~

Three more days sees three failed attempts at meeting your—admittedly ambitious—goal for the day, three marked increases in your stress level as you call whichever sister is available to come walk you home, three days without a word from your father, three nights where Noya comes home later than the standard, and three nights sleeping cuddled up to your best friend like nothing's weird about it.

You ease into other home chores where you can with the blessing and supervision of Rina or one of the girls. Noya's grandfather isn't around much—you don't know what he gets up to all day, only that once or twice he's come back with a strange woman maybe Rina's age on his arm. When Noya's home, you ask for updates on what you're missing during dinner, and when you're in his futon or he's in yours, you drag the pads of your fingers over his exposed skin and tell yourself that tomorrow, you'll go home.

The guys are improving massively already—apparently, Azumane wasn't the only guy working on something new. You're treated to new flashes of everything they're trying during the meager hours you can tolerate being there, and Noya excitedly tells you more during breaks or when he comes home for the night. When it comes to his own little project—the jump set he's told you about multiple times and which you admittedly keep pretending to forget about, half to tease him and half to watch him talk about it—he's grown less and less enthusiastic over these three days.

He's getting frustrated.

Your suspicions are confirmed on day four of this—today, your goal was "lunch and stay until individual practice", and it's the first day you've successfully met your return goal, with seven to spare before you have to miss the biggest sleep-away camp of the summer. On a break, Sawamura had waited for Noya to disappear for a bathroom break before approaching you. Can you talk to him? he'd asked in a quiet voice. We've been trying to get him to pull back a little, but he only listens until I stop glaring at him.

So, perfect timing. He's overworking himself, and there's no damn way you don't stay until Noya leaves tonight. You'd agreed with a sweet smile, an assurance that either he'd listen to your request to take it easy or you'd make him literally carry you home.

So now, you're helping with his individual practice for the first time since you allegedly agreed to do so over a week ago, in spite of the protests from multiple team members that you should take it easy and not risk getting hurt.

You're throwing a ball. That's it. If Azumane or Tanaka manage to hit you in the head where you're standing, perfectly perpendicular to the direction they're trying to spike in, they should probably just quit volleyball entirely. Even Hinata apparently only had to hit it a little out of bounds at just the right time to take you out the first time.

Like this, you get to see exactly why Sawamura asked you to talk to him, and you grow more and more disapproving as the night drags on. It's like he's Hinata, with the way he's absolutely relentless—whoever he's setting to takes a break, and he immediately tracks down Suga for advice or moves to a setting drill you've seen Kageyama do, bouncing the ball repeatedly against the wall without pause. Something about strengthening his fingers and improving control? You don't know.

What you do know: he literally hasn't sat down since individual practices started.

For the fiftieth time tonight, you check the time, and while you were pushing through the exhaustion and occasionally using them as reasons to try to force a break, it's not working.

So this time, when Noya takes the ball and starts setting it against the wall, you fix a glare on his back. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Tanaka watching you march up to him and shift away a little bit.

You snatch the ball out of the air between the wall and his fingers with a glare. "Senpai."

He blinks. "[name]-san?"

"You have a lot of nerve, you know that?"

"I—what did I do?" he manages, staring at you entirely stunned.

You sigh. You really want to lecture him, but with the way he is, you get the weird sense he's just not noticing what he's doing. "Hardly letting me take a plate to the sink because I need to take care of myself and then doing this shit. Sit down, Senpai. Everyone already knows you're cool, and you're gonna get that set, so there's no sense in going hours without taking a real break."

His cheeks tinge pink as he processes your statement, and he slides to the floor obediently. "You think I'm cool?"

You roll your eyes, take the ball over to the volleyball cart for now. "Not the issue here."

"Marry me?" he calls after you as you make the walk across the gym.

"Nine twenty-one," you grumble in reply.

~

That night, curled up in his futon instead of yours this time, you trace the scar on his shoulder thoughtfully. It's so much easier to worry about him than anything else, so that's what you do.

"Gonna swing by my place and check on things tomorrow," you say. "Maybe grab some clothes so I'm not stealing all your shirts."

"Want me to come with you?" Noya offers. "I'm sure everyone'll understand if I'm late because I'm helping you."

"Nah, I don't wanna take you from practice, and I need to be able to handle this stuff on my own if I'm gonna be cleared for full activity again soon."

He pouts. "How strict are the doctors gonna be with that? It's not like you're playing."

"Dunno. They're probably worried about, you know, five volleyball teams playing at once in the same room possibly leading to me getting my shit wrecked again."

"I'll protect you this time," he grumbles. "It's not gonna happen again."

"I'm sure you will, but the doctors don't know that. I really don't wanna miss the whole thing, though, so I'll probably ask if I can still go under a modified schedule. Like, help out for half the day and hide out in the girls' room the rest of the day or something."

"Aw, you do love us," he teases.

"Who said anything about that? It'll be boring here all alone."

"Sure, sure," he laughs. "You can admit that you like us, you know. I won't tell. You even already said it once."

"Shut up."

"Marry me and I will."

"No, you won't," you snort. "But nice try. Nine hundred twenty." You sigh into him, eyes lingering on the arm in your vision. "How'd you get that scar, anyway?"

"Mm?"

You tap your finger against it. "That one."

"Oh." He sounds… kinda upset that you asked.

"If you wanna talk about it, I mean. I'm just curious."

He shrugs, the position awkward for it, shifting you a little bit where your head rests on his chest. "My dad, probably."

"Your… dad?"

"I don't remember much, and Okaa-san thinks Satsuki and I don't remember anything, so she doesn't talk about it."

Oh. "You mean he…"

"'Sjust a guess. I know that I barely knew him, and that Mei and Kaede both get really upset if Satsuki and I ask about him. Okaa-san wouldn't talk about how Kaede got a concussion, either, so it's probably related to that. And the one time he tried to contact us, Mei had a panic attack and then stopped talking for like, three days. Figure it's probably related."

"Noya, I'm so…" You freeze, and then you laugh. "Sorry, I—I'm not laughing at you, I just… I was so emphatic about not wanting you to be sorry when I told you about my family, and now I'm laying here and I don't know what to be if not sorry."

Another light squeeze, crushing you to his body. "Just be here."

"I can do that," you whisper. "That's easy. Can I—is there anything else?"

He hums thoughtfully, taking a moment to nuzzle the top of your head. "Well, there's one thing. Ma—"

"Nine nineteen," you interrupt.

He smiles. Huffs. "Let's get some sleep, alright?"

You nod, shift to get just a touch more comfortable. "G'night, Senpai."

"Marry me," he blurts in reply. "I mean, goodnight."

Your shoulders shake with silent laughter, and you count up one more proposal before you drift to sleep.

Chapter Text

18 - make it to dinner

Two days before you're meant to leave for the training camp, you show up to practice two hours late with a popsicle hanging out of your mouth and two more boxes for the club to share. Unfortunately, your lateness isn't something you can teasingly blame Noya for—you spent the morning sitting in the doctor's office, legs swinging off the edge of the examination table as you waited alone.

Last time you went to the doctor, you'd taken the bus there alone in a mask with a barf bag in a death grip in both hands. You'd had to leave a note for your father next to the front door that'd said sick with flu, please don't wake me up, and it hadn't moved when you finally made it downstairs after two days of throwing up every hour on the dot like some sort of fucked up nightmare cuckoo clock. No matter what the doctor said this time, the memory leaves you melancholy—this time, Noya's grandfather waited for you, ruffled your hair and offered popsicles when you told him the news.

It feels nice to know someone's in the waiting room for you.

The melancholy had lingered until you crashed practice on Takeda's blessing, in exchange for a copy of the concussion protocol the doctor had sent you on with. Outside, you bask in the sunlight and the still relatively cool ambient temperature of the day, hoping maybe the sun and watching the guys bicker like a flock of seagulls with a single french fry between them will bring your mood up.

"Thanks for the popsicles, [name]-san!" Tanaka says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You affect a smile. "Nah, don't thank me. Jii-chan suggested it and paid for it. I'm just the delivery girl."

A warm presence at your side. You lean into Noya a little, let your shoulder press into his. "Marry me."

You're growing too comfortable with him, you think. You've ended up the same way every night for almost a week: dinner with the family, getting ready for bed (finally able to lay out your futon without help), and then falling asleep in Noya's arms. Occasionally, Soba would join in, and you wake up to purring and a sweet ball of fluff and love having wormed her way into the space between yours and Noya's overheating bodies or otherwise pressing her head insistently into your hand. In his futon, in your futon. Just together, close enough that you're not convinced you wouldn't be able to know him from the feeling of his shoulders or his back alone.

"Nine hundred and five. I just said it was your grandfather whose idea it was and who paid for it, so I don't know why you're asking me, though."

"You're finally calling him Jii-chan," he grins. "He know that? He's been insisting on it all week."

"Shut up."

"He's probably gonna throw a party or something," Tanaka laughs. "I've met the man three times and he's always super friendly. Two of those times, he had some hot chick on his arm, though."

You stifle a laugh. "Really? I haven't seen him bringing any women home while I've been there."

"You're still staying at Noya-san's, right?"

A nod. "Otoo-san's still out of town, and I only recently started being able to handle the stuff like laying out my futon and cooking without getting dizzy, and not after a long day of doing other stuff."

"Jii-chan's told her to call him Jii-chan at least a hundred times," Noya laughs. "Okaa-san told him not to bring anyone home while [name]-san was staying. Speaking of, weren't you with him this morning for a reason? How'd it go?"

"Oh yeah, that." Your face falls a little. "I guess it went okay."

"You guess? What'd he say?"

A shrug. "You know. Gave me a whole packet of restrictions and a plan and everything. Already handed a copy over to Takeda-sensei, so…"

"So…? Are you allowed to come to the camp?"

You bounce on the balls of your feet idly. "Well, I need you to help me carry some stuff today. I'm still a little limited on exercise and can't be carrying stuff up and down stairs. Too strenuous."

"Carry some stuff…?"

"Yeah. I gotta pack."

"Yeah, sure." He pauses. "Wait, you're coming, then!?"

You can't suppress the smile any longer. "Guilty. There's a whole bunch I'm not allowed to do, and I have to take naps after lunch, doctor's exact wording was 'sleep as long as you can put up with', which is gonna be annoying. I can't even run unless, quote, 'I'm being chased by an axe murderer and I don't think I can beat them in a fight'."

"Damn. That's pretty strict," Tanaka says. "It's great that you're coming, though!"

The wind is knocked out of you a little as Noya throws his arms around your shoulders. "Thank the gods. I was going to wither away without you in arms' reach."

You roll your eyes. "I'm sure you were—"

You're cut off in a screech as something cold lands on the back of your neck, and then Noya's bolting, laughing over his shoulder.

That motherfucker just put his popsicle against your neck.

"Wh—you are so annoying, get back here!" You move to give chase as he runs out of reach. "I swear to god, if that got in my hair—"

"You can't chase me, you can't chase me!" he calls back frantically. "Concussion restrictions, no running unless you're being chased by an axe murderer you can't fight!"

"I know where you keep your hair gel, you demon—"

Tanaka grabs you with one hand, sheepish grin on his face. "No running, remember?"

"I'm sure the doctor will forgive me for this one," you reply, voice icy cold.

He looks between you and Noya, who's stopped several meters away to watch you with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

"Yeah, probably. Go for it."

He releases you, and you bolt after Noya, set on revenge.

Neither of you feel very guilty when Sawamura starts lecturing you.

~

You stop at Sakanoshita on the way home. Grab some nikuman. Walk right past Noya's place to get to your house. There's a touch of fear as you approach your place—your father was home when he wasn't supposed to be before. What are the chances he's home now?

The fear doesn't release until you're stepping inside, until you scan the genkan and don't find his work shoes there. Noya eyes you as you sigh in relief, but doesn't press for an explanation, and then, just like that, you're tugging Noya up the stairs to your room.

Something is wrong when you get there. It's quiet. Which makes sense, seeing as it's empty except for you and Noya, who's being empathetic to your edgy mood and therefore not talking much yet. It isn't how you left it, but you can't place what's off about it.

"Senpai," you say slowly. "Did you come up here at all when you came to check on things for me?"

He shakes his head. "Nah, I just focused mainly in the kitchen. I think your dad would have called the cops if I tried to go up to your room alone after the conversation we had. Why?"

"It's just… wrong, I guess. It's probably nothing. It's not like I remember exactly how I left it or anything, but…" Your eyes scan the room one last time. "I know didn't hang my futon up when I was here. Rina-san wouldn't let me."

And yet, there's your futon, propped up against the wall. Someone's been in here while you were out.

What kind of robber breaks into a house and props up someone's futon? Nothing's particularly missing. It's not like there's a mess. "Y-you're sure you didn't come up here?"

"I'm sure. I did the dishes, I took out the trash, and I called your father an old man to his face."

Your mood darkens. Of course no one broke in.

"What all did you say to my father when he was here?" you ask in a measured tone. You stride across the room, begin pulling out the shirts you'll need for camp.

He laughs. "He asked what our relationship was or something like that. I asked him if it wasn't obvious. He didn't like that."

…so your dad probably thinks you have a boyfriend now. Cool. You can work with that. That doesn't explain this, though. "Anything else?"

"Um… let's see… he wanted proof that I knew you and didn't break in, I showed him the texts where I sent you a morning Soba where you were cuddling her and you told me where the key was…"

You let out a sigh. "Well, he definitely thinks you're my boyfriend now, so congratulations, I guess."

"Not gonna try to set the record straight?" he grins.

"Are you kidding? Do you have any idea how much energy that would take? I'd have to stay up waiting for him to come home, just to ambush him with like… hi Otoo-san, I just wanted you to know, that guy you met? Yeah, there's nothing between us or anything. No, I didn't have anything else to say to you, just that. Only for him to probably not believe me, and for what? Inevitably I'd have to explain why you're proposing to me at every turn, and if you ever actually have to hit a thousand it'll be way easier to explain if he already thought we were dating."

"Oh? So you're counting on me to hit the quota?" His face lights up. "So you're gonna marry me? Is that what I'm hearing? Have you finally agreed—"

"If," you interrupt sharply, stopping him with a finger to his lips. "And only if, you hit your quota."

He smiles, letting you rest your finger there with some knowing look that kinda makes you wanna hit him. Instead, you pull your hand away, turn back to picking out clothes, folding them, stacking them up.

…ugh. You need to find your duffel bag.

"Was that really all you said to him?"

"Why?"

"Because if you didn't come up here, then someone set up my futon to air out, and I know I didn't do it. I do that on Sundays, I got hurt on a Monday, and Rina-san wouldn't let me when I was here. So someone else did it, and it's more likely him, but… I don't understand why he would."

He hums thoughtfully, leaning against your dresser with his hands in his pockets. "I was more than a little rude to him about being a shitty dad, I guess. Oh! Maybe because I said something about how anxious you were about him not doing chores while you were hurt? And I told him that you wanted him to air his futon out."

…maybe that's it.

Angry tears spring up, and you turn away, rifling through your closet for your duffel bag with renewed vigor. "So, what, he feels bad about me getting hurt and not noticing and whatever, so he airs out my futon for me? Instead of talking to me like I'm his fucking daughter or something?"

You find the duffel, turn to throw it on the pile of clothes you've created. And there's Noya, right there, arms open. "Dunno what to say, so… hug?"

You hug him roughly, hard enough that the wrong angle would have given someone a nosebleed. Into his shoulder, you let out an aggravated sigh. It occurs to you that you're using him like a human-sized stress ball, but you don't particularly care at the moment. "God," you mumble into his chest, "maybe I should just take his card and get an apartment. Maybe I shouldn't ever come back."

"At that rate, save the money and move in with me." He strokes your hair soothingly. "You know, since you're gonna marry me anyway."

It's easy to joke with him. Easier than letting the anger kick up, at any rate. So, you release him, and you joke. "Uh-huh. You want to ruin an innocent girl's purity, is that it? What will the neighbors think, moving in together before marriage? It simply isn't done, Nishinoya-san."

"So we need to get married first?"

There's that blank look in his eye again, but fuck it. You welcome what's about to come. "Yeah. Better hurry it up and hit your quota so I can start coming home to you instead of this."

"Marry me, then." He leans in a little, eyes sparkling, and then he pounces. You let out a shriek as his hands find your sides and put you at his mercy. "C'mon, [name]-san. Marry me. Marry me. Marry—"

He gets it out another eight times as he tickles you. Between laughing and trying to wriggle away, you let him get that far before you manage to bark out the correct number. "Eight ninety two!" you repeat at him through your laughter. "Eight ninety two and cease this!"

"Fine, fine," he says as you simmer down, him nearly caging you in against the floor. "I guess I can let you breathe. For now. Only since you agreed to marry me." He winks, flashes a blinding grin.

For just a moment, the bullshit is forgotten. Your father, your empty home, the anger you hold in your body towards a man you swore would eventually love you like his daughter again. You ARE his daughter why doesn't he—

And then, from the doorway: a solid knock, firm and loud enough to drag a startled yelp from your throat as you turn to look at the source.

Your father, in the flesh, looking over the scene—you disheveled, too close to a boy, his arms resting on the floor on either side of your body, the pair of you out of breath—with his nose wrinkled. Like he's taken a sip of his morning coffee and just realized he forgot to add the usual amount of sugar first. Pure distaste.

"Can you get the hell off of my daughter, please?"

There was a time this situation might have bothered you: a guy half on top of you, your father clearly pissed about the situation, an impending fight. But, well, nothing's really happening with Noya, and right now, you're more bothered that your father has the audacity to give a fuck.

Noya glances to you. You sit up, adjust the hem of your shirt a little where it had ridden up during the assault. "That's weird. Since when did you care about literally anything I did?"

"I've always cared," he says quietly. "I've always cared."

"Really?" You raise an eyebrow. "News to me."

"You've been eating, haven't you?" he snaps, slamming a fist against the doorframe in a way that makes you flinch towards Noya. He doesn't move from his spot except to wind a protective arm around you, glare fixed on your father. "The water's on, the lights are on, you have a house and everything you need—"

"She doesn't—" Noya starts, but you raise a hand sharply.

"Don't, Senpai. It's okay."

He finally breaks his glare to look at you, eyes soft. "But, [name]-san—"

"It's okay," you repeat. "Look, I—I'm not doing this with you right now," you say, turning your attention back to your father. "Did you need something in particular? I haven't seen you before 11 PM in years."

He has the audacity to look injured at the cold reception. "I've been coming home earlier recently. I heard you from downstairs, I… I wanted to talk. What're you up to?"

He wants to talk.

He hasn't wanted to talk in two years.

"Packing," you say, chest twisting painfully. "I'm not really allowed to do a lot of lifting or carrying yet, so I brought Senpai to help me carry my stuff back to his place."

"Packing? For what?"

"There's… there's a big sleep-away camp the volleyball club is doing," you explain in a small voice. Noya finally adjusts himself to sit properly beside you, his arms crossed as he stares daggers at your father. "We're going to be in Tokyo for the week."

"Tokyo?" he repeats. "For a week? Starting when?"

"The… day after tomorrow…?"

"I see." He looks to Noya, gaze hardening. "Can you step out for a moment? I'd like to speak to my daughter alone."

"I will if she asks me to."

An unbidden smile reaches your lips. "He's staying."

He bounces on the balls of his feet, glaring off to the side for a moment before letting out a rough exhale. "Fine. Alright. I just wanted to apologize."

And oh, isn't that a gut punch? "F-for what?"

"For… the last two years, I guess. I haven't been here. I couldn't make myself be here unless I absolutely had to be, but I should have been.."

"Okay." It's all you can say. Not it's okay, not I'm sorry too, but okay. Because it's not okay, you're not sorry, and all you can manage is to acknowledge that he said anything at all.

"Okay…?" he repeats, strained.

"Okay. You apologized. Am I supposed to do something with that, or…?"

He pauses. Chooses his next words carefully.

"You've grown up a lot when I wasn't looking."

Not carefully enough.

"Yeah," you snap. "I had to do a lot of growing up without any parents. I graduated middle school without any parents. I picked a high school without any parents. I got into a really nice one, but I was worried about what would happen to you if I went to a boarding school and left you here all alone, so I stayed and let myself be alone instead. Without any parents."

"[name]-san…" Noya breathes beside you.

"You could still go to that school, if you wanted," your father suggests lamely. "I'd help with the transfer. I'd be more than willing to pay for it."

"No, I can't. I've got a bunch of fistfights on my record now, and it's been hard to keep my grades up and take care of a household entirely by myself, so I'm not exactly a desirable student anymore. Maybe you'd know that if you picked up the phone when the school called you."

"…oh."

"Yeah. Oh." You sigh, check the contents of your duffel bag again. You've basically got everything you'll need for the camp. Worst case, you can borrow from Noya or one of the girls. You zip up the bag, push yourself to stand. As always, there's Noya, helping you with gentle hands even though you don't really need it.

Your father studies you carefully. "Your boyfriend said you had a concussion. Are you sure you should be going to a training camp like that right now?"

"I went to the doctor's this morning. He said it was fine. Sent me home with a list of restrictions that I've already given to the club adviser. Are you sure you have any right to show back up in my life just to stop me from doing things I like and want to do?"

"I'm still your father," he mumbles weakly.

"Are you? I wasn't aware. C'mon, Senpai, we're gonna be late for dinner."

He scoops up the duffel obediently. "Got everything you need?"

"Most of it's at your place already."

You walk up to your father, look up at him with sad eyes. "I'll be back at the end of next week. Really back. And I don't want to be alone here. If you're here, and you take care of the place while I'm gone, I… we can talk then. Okay?"

"Okay. You'll be safe?"

"I'll be safe. I've got Senpai protecting me, and everyone on the team knows not to let me get hit in the head again at any costs."

His hand darts out, and you fail to dodge it—a warm hand ruffles your hair.

You nearly fall down the stairs escaping from him.

~

"I'm going back home after the training camp."

The admission gives pause to the others at the table. You'd sort of expected a shrug, an okay, an everyone-turning-back-to-eating-like-you-didn't-say-anything, but nothing of the sort comes.

"Are you sure?" Rina asks. "I meant it when I said you could stay as long as you want."

You nod. "I've imposed on you guys long enough, and… I have to face my father eventually, I guess. Everyone's been really kind, though. Thank you for taking care of me."

A knee knocks into yours reassuringly. Noya. You fight back a smile at the presence.

No one had asked any questions when the two of you had come back from your place, though you'd had silent tears slipping down your cheeks up until right before dinner. You don't want to know what assumptions they're making now.

"The two of you are leaving tomorrow night for the camp, right?" Kaede asks. "We should do something for you before you go."

Mei perks up. "Ooh, like a going-away party? I'll bake something! [name]-chan, what kind of cake do you like?"

"What? No, you don't need to—"

Your preferred flavor rolls off Noya's lips by way of interruption. Your head snaps to him, indignant.

"Wh—hey! First of all, how did you even know that, second of all, shut up!"

He holds up both hands as a display of innocence. "You were way too excited to see it on the menu at that gelato place. I guessed."

"You're such a stalker!"

He laughs. "You're doing the tsundere thing again, [name]-san. You're that happy for the party?"

You lunge for him. He backs out of reach, grin widening.

"Now, now, you're supposed to be avoiding strenuous activity," he says in a sing-song tone. "You don't wanna make your head worse, you know?"

"I mean, if you don't want a going-away party…" Satsuki starts, and you recognize danger in her tone. You interrupt her before she can finish that sentence.

"Oh no. Oh no no no—don't you dare! You promised, Nee-san!"

"Promised? I didn't promise anything. Mei, you were there—I didn't say I promised, did I?"

Mei gives you a sheepish look. "I probably should've warned you, [name]-chan. She said she'd think about it."

Kaede snorts. "Oh, yeah, she was never not gonna do it."

Satsuki looks way too pleased when she says, "I did think about it! I thought about when would be the best time to tell Yuu. You're lucky I didn't text him in the middle of that camp for maximum chaos!"

"Please, Nee-san," you beg. Noya's eyes are burning holes into the side of your face. You don't dare meet his eyes. "I'll do anything."

"Hmm, anything?" She rests her chin in her hand with a wicked grin. "I kinda like watching you squirm, though."

"Nee-san, I'll let the flirting with my future wife slide this time if you tell me what it is," Noya says. He dodges your blind slap his direction effortlessly.

Across the table, Rina is watching the exchange with thinly-veiled amusement. You pounce.

"Rina-san, please. You're my only hope. You've gotta cut off their funding."

Her amused expression does not change as Satsuki drops the bomb over your head.

"I'm just saying, we should totally have the going-away party also be a late birthday party. Two birds, one party, y'know? Especially since she didn't tell anyone about it last month."

"Oh no," you whisper as Rina breaks into the signature Nishinoya smile and the air beside you turns cold. "They're your kids. They get it from you."

"I was gonna close up the shop a little early tomorrow to help set up. And that was before Satsuki mentioned the birthday."

"[name]-san, you didn't tell me," Noya whines, arms slinging over your shoulders. "When!?"

"I asked for a Soba picture," you mumble weakly.

"I had a special Soba I was saving for your birthday! I was gonna get it framed!"

"Ooh, I'm free tomorrow, I can see if we can get it printed and framed on a rush job!" Kaede suggests. "I've got some stuff for her, anyway."

"I hate it here," you whine, dropping your head to the table.

She snickers. "Wait, guys, I speak a little tsundere. I think that was a love confession?"

You squawk, jerking your head up so fast that you get hit with a wave of dizzy. Noya steadies you with an easy hand. "You know, you can say no if you absolutely don't want to."

"…do what you want," you mumble.

Satsuki is the first to cheer, launches right into party planning with the girls. You're quiet for the rest of dinner, watching them talk with a smile.

~

The going-away-slash-birthday party turns out to be more like a dinner party thing. You and Noya stay at practice like usual, with the caveat that he's asked you to listen out for notifications on his phone to see when one of the girls reaches out that they're ready. When Noya receives the text, you stop tossing him balls with a roll of your eyes.

Satsuki to Yuu at 19:32

Satsuki: BRING OUR SISTER HOME YOU SELFISH BASTARD

"Satsuki-nee says you're a selfish bastard," you explain with a laugh.

His face brightens, and he turns to Tanaka—tonight's victim for jump set practice—with a grin. "Sorry, Nee-san says we gotta head back. Thanks for practicing with me!"

He rushes off to get changed, and you take your time, his phone still in hand.

Yuu to Satsuki at 19:34

Yuu: the selfish bastard is getting dressed

Yuu: who's 'our sister'?

Satsuki: [NAME]-CHAN MY BELOVED!!!

Satsuki: CAN I GET YOUR NUMBER YOU GORGEOUS GODDESS

Satsuki: I'M GONNA USE IT TO TALK SHIT ABOUT YUU

You laugh as you button your uniform shirt up with one hand.

Yuu: he's still got 890 more proposals before I get to call you guys my sisters you know

Yuu: [attachment: 1 new contact, labeled "[name]-san 😍💕💖💘💝🧡"]

Yuu: omfg that is way too many heart emojis

Yuu: senpai of the future if you're reading this you need to limit it to three heart emojis or less. People are gonna think you're a simp or something

Satsuki: YESSS I GOT [NAME]-CHAN'S NUMBER HAHA

Satsuki: HE CAN'T STOP ME FROM FLIRTING NOW

You pause, glancing at the contact picture and recognizing your own sleeping face, half-concealed by his shirt. Looks like a zoomed-in version of the picture Tanaka sent you both after the last training camp.

Yuu: EWHY IS THAT THE CONTACT PHOTO

Satsuki: omfg you two are adorable I hate this

Satsuki: tell him to hurry his simp ass up and bring you home. I need to kiss the belated birthday girl😘

You roll your eyes and shove your clothes in your bag.

Yuu: can't say no to that. I'm on the way home bb

Over dinner—lit up with hastily-taped fairy lights for ambiance, some streamers thrown over your shoulders like a necklace—things are almost normal. Jii-chan and the girls are chatting, you're participating in the conversation where you can, Mei made the dinner you requested, and then they break out a cake.

It's nice. Really nice. Kaede has a little gift basket for you, filled with all-new hair products and a really nice hairbrush and bundled with a printout of hair care stuff for your hair type. Satsuki steals a kiss on the cheek before getting chased off by Noya. You curl up in the corner after a bit with Mei and Soba—dressed up for the occasion with a little gift bow on her collar—watching the chaos. At one point, Jii-chan presses an envelope of cash into your hand and ruffles your hair with a don't you dare be a stranger.

Before the night's over and you have to double check that both you and Noya are packed for the camp, you are presented with the foretold framed Soba photo—she's completely bound up in ribbons, apparently having found a spool of the ribbon and gone completely wild with it. Someone's balanced a bow on top of her head before taking the photo.

Finally, when you move to retreat, Rina squishes both your cheeks in her hands with a serious look. "I wanna see you back here for dinner after the camp," she says in an authoritative tone. "At least once a week. You got that, kid?"

A huff. "Yes, ma'am. I'll talk with Senpai to get it scheduled."

She smiles, then. "Good. If you ever need anything, even just a place to sleep somewhere warm for the night, you don't even need to ask. Just shoot Yuu a text or knock on the door, and we'll let you in. Wait, better yet—let me show you where the spare key is kept. Let yourself in."

You laugh nervously. "Rina-san, you don't need to—"

"My son's pretty convinced he's gonna marry you someday," she interrupts. "And I have it on good authority that my daughter will if he doesn't. Between the two of them, as far as I'm concerned, you're already part of the family. C'mon, let me show you where we keep the key."

You let her show you the spot beside the door, the little handmade pot that looks to have been painted by a child, and when she leaves you alone for the night, you retreat to Noya's room. He joins you before very long at all, and you press into his side the moment he's close enough.

"You know it's probably a bad idea to sleep before we have to leave, right?" he says, winding an arm around you. "I'd say I'll wake you up, but I really suck at keeping track of time."

"My first birthday after Okaa-san died, 'too-san got me a new phone. He didn't really wrap it or anything, just like… left it on the table in the genkan with a sticky note. And I'd stopped talking to everyone by then, and I'd just found out about Kasumi-chan cheating on me, so I didn't celebrate it at all. And this year, he didn't say anything, and he didn't leave anything for me, and I… I didn't wanna tell anyone about my birthday, because what happens when everyone abandons me again if I'm not already used to being alone?"

"None of us are gonna abandon you."

"You don't know that."

He shoots you a challenging look. "I'm not abandoning you. No matter how rough shit gets."

"You could still die."

"I've never even died once in my life. Really, there's no proof that I can."

A startled laugh leaves your throat. "Let's not test that theory."

Chapter Text

19 - sleep it off

Fuck the Nishinoya family, honestly.

Fuck 'em for being so kind. Fuck 'em for the gifts, the cake, the way they welcomed you with open arms over the past two weeks. Fuck 'em for the soft hugs, the birthday card they'd presented you with, the way Rina had made you schedule a day to come over for dinner and immediately written it on the whiteboard calendar in the kitchen, outlined with a little doodle of fireworks like it was a happy event.

Fuck Rina for being so motherly. Fuck Jii-chan for the proud smile when you called him Jii-chan to his face. Fuck Mei for the cake, fuck Satsuki for telling everyone about your birthday, fuck Kaede for the hair stuff, way too expensive for you to have ever bought on your own even just to try, and fuck Soba for—no, scratch that, you could never be mad at Soba—but fuck Noya for the gentle, persistent comfort, for the effortless way he explains away the tears in the corners of your eyes when you make it to the school just before one in the morning. (Oh, she's just sleepy. She's been keeping, like, a 7pm bedtime most nights. I almost had to carry her here, you know?)

Also fuck whoever looked at Noya's totally innocent grin and actually gave him permission to sit with you on the bus ride up to Tokyo when he asked.

While you're at it, fuck you for cuddling right up to him and melting into the scent of his shampoo, and most of all, fuck the sunlight for waking you up as you near Saitama, where this week's camp is located. It's too bright, your head hurts, and you have no choice but to bury your face into the soft cotton of your volunteer pillow to block out the light.

He shifts at your movement, and you let out a groan. "What time is it?"

A soft laugh, laced with sleep. "Time to wake up. We're almost there, I think."

You let out a pained whine. "I'm not doin' anything until you flag Sensei down and ask him if I can have some of my painkillers."

"That bad already?" he coos sympathetically. "Are you gonna be alright?"

"Yeah. I think it's just dehydration." You'd cried a lot last night before you had to leave. You're pretty sure this is what a hangover is like. You should see if Mei or Kaede can get you some supplies to test that theory.

A clearing of a throat at the front of the bus. "Alright, we're going to be at Shinzen soon. Those of you who are awake, please take this time to wake up the others! After your things are brought to your rooms, we'll be joining everyone for breakfast, then warmups."

When he's done making his announcement, you feel Noya shift. "Sensei, can [name]-san get some painkillers? She woke up with a headache. She says it's probably dehydration, but the light's bugging her."

"Ah, sure! Shimizu, can you pass this back? Do you two have any water?"

You blindly reach for the bottle, finding it pressed uncomfortably between your hip and the wall of the bus. You shake it at Noya wordlessly.

"We've got some."

You manage to open one eye just in time to see Shimizu turn around in her seat, one row in front of you. She passes the bottle of painkillers over the seat, and Noya takes it with a nod. "We're supposed to help with serving meals," she says, nodding to you. "If you're not feeling up to it, we can make you a meal and let you go until you've rested."

"I'll be okay," you mumble. "The pills should kick in by then."

"If you're sure, but don't push yourself. Do you need help carrying your things upstairs?"

"No," you reply at the same time that Noya says, "yes."

You roll your eyes. "It's fine—"

"Your bag is heavier than it was when you asked me for help carrying it before," he points out. "And you weren't experiencing capital-S Symptoms then, either."

There's a shout from the back of the bus—Hinata is now awake and has just seen his first-ever transmission tower, apparently—that has you cringing and whining pathetically into Noya's chest, tears beading in the corners of your eyes.

He brings a hand up to cover your exposed ear, muffle the sound just a bit. "See? C'mon, let's get those painkillers in you."

You screw your eyes shut, toss your head back with the two pills he's placed in your hand. Choke down the pills and gag on the taste, even when washing it down with a massive swig of water. When you've recovered, you glance back at Shimizu. "I guess I could probably use the help, if it's not too much trouble."

"Of course. I'll help you bring your stuff upstairs. Do you think you can handle the stairs right now?"

"I can handle stairs," you grumble.

There's soft laughter rumbling beneath your ear. "She'll be a lot nicer once the pain meds kick in, I promise. Can you pass this back up to Sensei?"

There's a shuffling, and you sip your water, and you wait for the painkillers to kick in. On your way upstairs with the girls, you listen silently as Shimizu tells the other managers about your situation, and you don't even protest when she rattles off a rough list of things they're supposed to stop you from doing if they catch you.

You just have to not let them catch you.

~

Damn it all, you make it through helping serve everyone at breakfast, and with great determination, you even manage to convince everyone that you can at least make it to lunch before you have to take a nap and sleep off the headache. The painkillers are a huge help in this—they soothe you just enough to get everyone to let you sit in the gym and watch as the training camp kicks off in full swing. Takeda had demanded you sit in a chair, but at least you're allowed to be there at all.

In contrast to the previous training camp, Shinzen's training camp has the losing team take a penalty run up the hill outside the gym, a feat which you're not sure you could stand even without the concussion. You have the odd sense that the boys are going to be doing it a lot this week.

With Shimizu on one side of you and Coach Ukai standing on the other to protect you from any strays, you settle in to watch the first set of the day. The boys are up against Fukurodani, that school with the loud ace, and Hinata and Kageyama are back on the same side of the net again.

"I haven't been around as much because of my head," you mutter as you watch them take their places. "Have they played together at all since they started fighting?"

Coach Ukai shakes his head. "I'd been giving them the chance to work on their own stuff without getting at each other's throats, but I figure a few weeks is probably enough time. We'll see how they do today."

You nod. "I'm pretty sure I can guilt them into knocking it off if they start fighting again. You know, all things considered."

He laughs. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

The set begins. You set about taking notes as they kick off—the team composition for each set, compared against how they actually do. Shimizu's taking the real stats, so you can basically do what you want, at any rate. Fukurodani serves, Noya moves, and the ball goes right to Kageyama as always. For half a second, it's like nothing's changed—a clean receive, Hinata swooping in to spike, Kageyama already ready for him.

And then the ball hits the floor.

You bite back a laugh as Hinata lands, back of his head to you as he stares at Kageyama. Kageyama, for his part, looks reasonably embarrassed, cheeks flushed as he avoids eye contact.

They regroup. Another serve from Fukurodani, another clean receive. In the margins, you start a tally for points lost to mistakes, and you make your first mark in the column just as the next toss sails straight past Hinata. You prepare for the second mark, but then Hinata moves—calm, collected, his left hand coming up to bump the ball just barely over the net. He lands firmly on his ass, staring up at Kageyama, who stares right back at him.

"He would have panicked before," Shimizu comments with wide eyes.

You nod.

They've both changed a lot over the past few weeks, but it isn't just Hinata and Kageyama. Though it goes out, Azumane blasts out a pretty strong jump serve, clicks his tongue in frustration when the ref's whistle blows. Your margin tallies overtake the page quickly—Suga setting with the wrong timing during the synchronized attack, Yamaguchi's jump float not quite floating, Noya jumping too far for the jump set.

When he glares at you heatlessly, cheeks red, at the sound of your mostly-stifled laugh, you raise up both hands in a show of innocence. "I didn't say anything!" you mouth to him with a wry little smile. He rolls his eyes, and both of you turn back to your own roles.

It's just a touch embarrassing to watch them screw up repeatedly, and your rage pricks up at hearing a coach from another team quietly comment on how wonderfully out-of-sync they are (they're your guys to tease about screw-ups!), but you keep your tallies and keep your mouth shut.

He won't be laughing when it all comes together. He won't be laughing then at all.

~

You make it a whole hour after lunch just fine. As expected, the guys are losing repeatedly, but at least it's less "getting their asses handed to them" and more "valiantly struggling", compared to last time. It seems very valiant when you watch them run up the hill, shouting at the top of their lungs, anyway.

"At least they're keeping their spirits up," Yachi notes with a sigh.

"I don't know how they do it." You let out a sigh of your own, shaking the last of the prepared bottles. "The yelling or the running. It's like they're a whole different breed."

You really wish they'd stop yelling, actually. The painkillers are starting to wear off, and you can definitely tell. Half of you almost wants to go up to the room and take a nap, but the other half of you categorically refuses to be a child who needs a regular naptime, and that half is much, much louder.

So you grit your teeth. You pass out water bottles and hope your smile looks natural. You avoid Noya a little bit because you know that he's started figuring out what it looks like when you're pretending your head doesn't hurt, and you subtly point Shimizu in his direction so you can get distracted with someone else before he can monopolize you.

"How're you feeling?" you ask Hinata as he accepts a water bottle from you. "You sound like you've still got energy."

He catches his breath, nods his thanks. "I can keep going. Kageyama's acting weird, though."

You tilt your head. "Do you mean the new set? He's been working on it since you guys got in that fight, I think. You're different, yourself, though."

"You think so?" he lets out a nervous laugh, cheeks turning a little pink. "Well, I've been practicing really hard at Old Coach Ukai's place. Is it actually noticeable?"

"Definitely. Once everyone starts coming together and locking in, you guys are gonna do great."

"T-thank you!" He bows.

You wave it off with a nervous laugh of your own. "You don't need to make such a big deal of it. All I can really do is observe, so I'm observing, that's all."

"Ah! Speaking of that…" He straightens up, peers at you. "You look really pale today. Is your head bothering you?"

Shit. Fuck. Goddammit.

"My head's fine!" Stop pitching your voice, dumbass. "It's probably just the painkillers wearing off."

"Hmm, if your painkillers are wearing off, aren't you supposed to go rest or something? It's not good to push yourself while you're still recovering." He actually pouts at you. Fucker.

"Come on, Hinata, you gotta be on my side here—"

"She is supposed to go rest," Noya says from behind you.

You jolt. Drop your shoulders. Sigh. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"

"Nope. Go try to sleep."

"You're the worst."

"And you're concussed. Go."

No amount of arguing gets you anywhere. Not with Noya, though you appreciate his pout as he demands you take care of yourself.³⁴ You wave them off as they return inside for the next set and find your way back to the girls' room for a nap.

~

There is a level of ballsy required of any man to traverse the expanse of the cafeteria at dinner and walk right up to the managers' table without issue, and maybe if it had been anyone but Yuu, it would have been a level beyond him. At least, he gets that impression from the eyes on his back as he approaches the girls. They sit at a whole separate table, one of the only rounded tables in the room, chatting and smiling as though the sole source of light in the entire camp.

The girls fall quiet as he walks up, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Kiyoko-san, Yachi-san. Has [name]-san come down at all since she went upstairs to nap?"

They share a look. "She hasn't, no."

He sighs. "Figures. Do you think the teachers will be mad if I bring some food up to her?"

Kiyoko hums. "They probably won't be mad about bringing her food, given the situation, but you being alone with her in the girls' room is a little…"

"Could someone come with me, then? Her concussion naps will go until morning if I just let her sleep, and she needs to eat."

One of the managers from another school—the cute one with the black pigtails and the Ubugawa shirt—raises her hand. "I don't mind grabbing a serving from the kitchen for her and chaperoning."

Shimizu flashes her an angelic smile. "Are you sure, Miyanoshita-san?³⁵ It'd be a big help."

"Yeah, it's no issue! I'm done eating, anyway."

He bows slightly. "Thank you! I really appreciate this!"

She gets up, waves to the other managers, and wanders into the kitchen with him.

~

Eri guides him up to the girls' room without complaint. She's not really sure what to say to this Nishinoya guy—she vaguely remembers him as Karasuno's libero, pretty good, pretty loud—but he seems happy to lead the conversation if she'll just lead the way.

"Miyanoshita-san, right?" he asks as they round the staircase onto the third floor. "Thanks again for this. She can be a little grumpy when she wakes up, so sorry if she's a little rude."

She laughs. "No, don't worry about it! I totally get it. Are you close with [name]-chan?"

The guy laughs back, smiles fondly. "Yeah. She's been staying at my place since she got hurt. I've been taking alright care of her, I think."

"I'm a little jealous," she admits. "It must be nice to have someone like that around. I'm sure she appreciates it."

His eyes are somewhere else when she pauses at the doorway. "Yeah, I think she does."

He takes the plate and slips inside, beelines towards the one occupied futon that you've dragged into the darkest possible corner of the room. She waits by the doorway, takes a moment to check her phone while he shakes you awake.

"Hey there," he says, voice low and soft.

This is… fundamentally a different guy from the libero she watched playing against Ubugawa earlier. He'd gone from shouty and bouncy to this: resting on his knees and stifling a laugh at your sleepy whining. She really is a little jealous.

"S'npai?" you mumble.

"Yeah. Hey there, Sleeping Beauty. Time to get up."

She eyes the scene with amusement, taps out a text to the Fukurodani Group Managers group chat—they should really get you, Hitoka, and Shimizu in on it before the camp is over—as what little of your face was visible disappears under the blanket.

Eri to Fukurodani Group Managers!!! at 19:35

Eri: [name]-chan's bf is ADORABLE with her omg

Eri: currently watching him wake her up by petting her like a cat

"C'mon, [name]-san. You've slept for like… four or five hours. You gotta eat something."

Another whine. "It's like you don't even like me."

"Complain all you want, but I'm gonna get real annoying if you don't eat something. You don't even have to do anything but sit up and chew. I'll feed you."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

…he's pretty much forgotten she's here, hasn't he?

Eri: he just offered to hand-feed her dinner if she'll just sit up

Yukie: oh my god I'm so jealous

Yukie: where is MY doting bf who will hand-feed me my dinner and stroke my hair wtf

Eri: he said she's been staying with him since her concussion and he's been taking care of her this whole time

She glances up. Nishinoya's managed to get you to sit up, which looks a lot like you immediately pressing into his side, eyes still closed but muttering complaints as you rest your head on his shoulder. "You're the one who made me go nap."

"You needed it, or you wouldn't have slept so long. Come on, open."

Eri: doting libero bf now hand-feeding her while she rests her head on his shoulder

Mako: SHIMIZU-SAN AND YACCHAN SAID THEY'RE NOT ACTUALLY DATING???

Eri: WHAT

Eri: are they ABSOLUTELY SURE???

Eri: they're like. Full on cuddling right now. She's got her arms around him and everything

Eri: he saw her and immediately forgot I was here

Eri: he's now playing with her hair and talking too softly to her for me to hear

Mako has added Shimizu and Yachi to Fukurodani Group Managers!!!

Shimizu: they really aren't dating

Shimizu: but he has proposed to her a few times

Eri: …a few???

Yachi: more than a hundred, I think? They have a bet

She watches incredulously as Nishinoya raises a bite of food to your lips, as you turn your face into his shoulder as you chew.

He laughs. "Marry me."

"Eight hundred eighty-nine," you mumble into his shoulder.

Eri: what's the bet? He just proposed again and she said 889

Shimizu: she'll actually marry him if he proposes 889 more times

Yachi: if he proposes 1000 times total she'll marry him

Eri: so they're ENGAGED???

Shimizu: no, as far as I can tell they're just friends outside of the proposal thing

Eri: …there's no way

She watches in disbelief as he continues to feed you, until you've eaten your dinner without lifting a finger. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Marry me, and sure."

"Ask me another eight hundred eighty-eight times and I will."

He laughs softly. "You're gonna be awake for a while at that rate. Sure you don't want to lower the quota for me?"

"If you don't lemme sleep I'm gonna raise the quota."

"I'd love to let you sleep, but you probably wanna actually get up and, like, shower and get ready for real bed first."

"But if I move it's gonna take forever to fall asleep again," you pout. "I don't have my cuddle buddy up here."

"Aw, is it hard to sleep without me?" he teases. "I can let you borrow my jacket to sleep better."

"I mean Soba, you ass."

"Really? You haven't been falling asleep with Soba recently."

Eri: THEY HAVE SLEPT IN THE SAME BED AT LEAST ONCE. ARE YOU SURE THEY ARE NOT DATING

Shimizu: …they did seem to get a lot closer after the concussion…

Yachi: she would have said something, right???

Shimizu: nishinoya would have told the entire team and also everyone at this camp if they had made it official

Shimizu: he probably would have ended up on the news somehow

She stifles a laugh. It's about that moment that both you and your boyfriend-not-boyfriend seem to remember/realize she's there, and you fully freeze, staring at her with a deer-in-headlights look.

"Oh. Hi," you say, voice pitching a bit higher than normal. "Miyanoshita-san. Have you been there this whole time?"

She waves with a sheepish smile. "I'm chaperoning. Shimizu-san said it might not be good if he were caught alone with you in the girls' room, even if there is a really good reason for it. You can ignore me."

"N-no, uh, I should probably get up and shower and stuff anyway."

"Thanks again, Miyanoshita-san!" Nishinoya grins, blinding. He looks back to you, his edges softened. "Are you going to be good to do everything you need to, or are you dizzy again?"

"I'm fine," you grumble. "I slept the headache off."

"Alright, then I'll take this back to the cafeteria before it closes."

"'Kay. G'night, Senpai."

Eri to Fukurodani Group Managers!!! at 20:32

Eri: I think I need them to get married actually

~

Freshly-washed, still exhausted, and determined to go back to sleep though you are, you slump into your futon that night with all the grace of a sack of flour. Before you can settle in, you shift uncomfortably—there's the press of a zipper into your side where you lay. You wriggle the offending jacket out from underneath you, and—oh goddammit. You recognize the smell of that cologne.

[name] to Noya at 21:01

[name]: oh you are NOT slick mister

[name]: take your stupid jacket back!!!

Noya: gee it's too bad I'm already on the guys' floor for the night and we're thirty minutes to lights out

Noya: if one of us were caught on the wrong floor this late we'd probably get in a ton of trouble with the teachers

Noya: I guess you'll just have to give it back to me tomorrow

[name]: >:(

[name]: fine, but you owe me a soba

Noya: [image attached. Image description: Noya laying down in bed, your head resting on his chest. Soba has wriggled her way underneath the arm you've slung over Noya's torso, and Noya's face is half-buried in your hair.]

Noya: sweet dreams :)

…his jacket is softer than yours, better worn-in, and smells nicer. You wouldn't know, though. It's not like you cuddled it to sleep or anything.

Chapter Text

19.5 - stop being weird

In Yamamoto Taketora's boldest move to date, he took one of the closest possible seats to the managers' table in the cafeteria at dinner. It's not that he meant to stare or meant to eavesdrop, and truly, eavesdropping takes effort with somewhere between fifty and a hundred guys all crammed into the room for dinner at the same time.

It's because of this—and the staring habit he's failing to get rid of—that he's close enough to notice when Noya marches right up to the girls and starts talking. Definitely close enough to notice him leave with Eri from Ubugawa, a tray of food in his hand.

The conclusion's easy enough to draw—Noya had mentioned your concussion, and you were notably absent from dinner, so he figures Noya's probably going with Eri to bring you food, wherever you're currently holed up. The explanation does little for the pang of jealousy—lucky bastard, going to bring food to one beautiful woman while accompanied by the adorable Miyanoshita Eri, pigtails and smile and all—but at least he can try to explain it away as all innocent.

Anyway, there's still five beautiful women to try not to stare too openly at, so Tora's a little busy with other concerns right now. Yukie, from Fukurodani, is trying to get away with stealing food off Kaori's plate by pretending to be focused on her phone.

Part of Tora thinks he should be normal and stop staring, but then he's watching Yukie show her phone to Kaori and say something to the rest of the girls, and then Mako's reaching for her own phone and so is Kaori, and Tora realizes that the girls must have a group chat.

What he wouldn't give to know what they use it for.

Mako is passing her phone across the table to two of the three most recent additions to the manager squad, and then Yukie is gasping loudly, sparkles in the air above her at something on her phone. A smattering of giggles from the other girls follows.

He's heard of this. They're gossiping.

Mako's getting her phone back as Kiyoko says something too quiet to hear, but Tora hardly needs to strain to hear the aghast response from the three non-Karasuno managers.

"What?" Mako says. "No, there's no way. You've gotta be messing with us."

Kiyoko shakes her head, and Hitoka raises a hand, adding something at an equal volume to Kiyoko. In other words, inaudible to him, in spite of his best efforts.

Hitoka and Kiyoko are now producing their own cell phones. He's now watching five beautiful women stare at their phones, three of five tittering and giggling at some update or another. He desperately wants to know what it is they're so focused on, but—it's not like he can ask. He's not strong enough for that.

Some other text must have come in to the mythic girls' group chat, because all five of them jolt in surprise at something on their phones at the same time.

"Okay, so they're dating, then," Kaori says confidently. "That's dating behavior."

"Trust me," says Kiyoko, "everyone in Japan would know if he'd gotten a girlfriend."

Correction: they're not just gossiping.

They're gossiping about boys.

He downs the rest of his drink and tunes in until he's getting roughly elbowed by Yaku. "Stop being weird."

"Right," he says. "Sorry."

~

Yachi to Fukurodani Group Managers!!! at 22:13

Yachi: don't forget to add [name]-chan! I've got her number

Yachi: [attachment: 1 new contact, labeled "[full name]"]

Kaori: we definitely need to. We need her to answer for whatever is making her NOT date cute concerned libero boy

Mako has added [name] to the group Fukurodani Group Managers!!!

[name]: …

[name]: did you guys know that I can read the chat history?

Eri: oh cool! I didn't!!

[name]: stop being weird. senpai's just my best friend, that's all

Shimizu: the BEST friend upgrade is new

Eri: ok thanks for the clarification. you know it’s a good idea to marry your best friend?

[name]: I actually hate it here

Chapter Text

20 - push through

The next day, you nap for two hours after lunchtime and meander your way downstairs. The headache hasn't exactly faded, but if you can just hide it, you can still be in the gym. The question is whether or not you can handle the volume enough for that to be sustainable. Before you even reach the gym, you run directly into a wall.

Or rather, you note once you've caught your balance and your bearings, you run into Tsukishima.

"Oh! Sorry, Tsukishima-san. I guess my brain's not awake yet," you explain with a laugh. "Concussion naps are killer."

Tsukishima—unfazed, the bastard—looks down at you for a moment. Stares, really. You raise an eyebrow at him. "You alright?"

He sighs. "Yeah. Sorry. Bathroom."

…right. "Okay. I'm just gonna—" You sidestep him, move to slink down the hallway behind him, but a hand closes around your wrist suddenly.

"Wait."

"…waiting."

He chews on his words for a moment, avoiding your eyes. "Why did you bother showing up here?"

You flinch, shooting him a wounded look. "Alright, we're being an asshole, I see. Because I'm a manager and managers go to the training camps. Is that a problem?"

"No, I mean—" He lets out a frustrated sigh. "I mean, why are you here when you have a concussion? It's not like anyone would have stopped you from resting at home for the week."

…okay, that's a little better. "I might have been more comfortable, but I wouldn't have been happier. I would've been bored and annoyed and useless." You eye him. You've seen the way he is during practice—tired, lower-key, there to be there. Compared to anyone else on the team, he's certainly taller, and you've heard them talk about how much potential Tsukishima has and just fails to use because he doesn't want to try. "Why are you asking?"

He shrugs. "Just curious."

"You suck at lying. Try again. Why are you asking?"

His left eye twitches a little. "I already answered."

"No, look. You want advice, you get advice, but you have to actually ask me outright. You're not asking why I'm here for no reason. What's your actual problem?"

"I just don't get why everyone on this team tries so hard all the time. You drag yourself to Tokyo even though it sucks, everyone else is putting themselves through penalty after brutal penalty, risking injuries… it's way too much effort for something that's just a club at the end of the day."

Ah.

You get it.

You get it well.

You hum, leaning against the wall. "You're trying to figure out why everyone else is passionate when you aren't."

"I guess."

"I mean, that's a tough one. The weirdest part is that you're lumping me in with the passionate ones when I've spent most of the time since joining the club being actively jealous of everyone else in the club for having something they love doing and doing it. If I could figure out how the hell to have half their energy, I'd do it."

"But you've got the energy to try harder than I would. If I'd gotten a concussion, no one would have seen me for a month. Where does that energy come from?"

You shrug. "I guess… I just… I want to be happy, and I don't want to go home. And now that I'm here, I don't want to feel like I don't need to be here. I can't miss time or not show up and lose to someone who's better than me."

He snorts. "What, do you think you're gonna get overtaken by the other managers or something?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

He gives you a surprised look.

"I mean, you saw those posters Yachi-san made. I don't get passion, I don't know how to be like her, but among the two of us, she's done something amazing for you guys. She is amazing. When there's someone else doing the same job, filling the same role… isn't it normal to not want to lose to them? Isn't it normal to push through the headaches so I can at least stand on equal footing with her?"

"And when they outclass you so hard there's no point in fighting?"

"Then you quit." You shrug. "I'm not saying I want you to, but like… if I didn't think there was any chance of me being good enough to be worth being here at all, I'd just stop showing up and find something else to fill my time. Probably go back to starting fistfights and stuff. In your case, though, it's not like Hinata can be both middle blockers in a lineup. There's something you can do that he can't, and if you actually gave a shit, you could probably shine just as bright in a totally different way. You're way better off than me."

You move past him, down the hall, intent on pushing through the pain. He disappears into the bathroom, and you—

You run smack into Yachi.

"Oh, Yachi-san. Are you also running to the bathroom?"

There's a wounded look in her eyes, and—

Oh.

She heard you.

~

Yachi returns to the gym with you in tow—apparently, she'd only been coming to wake you, since you had mentioned not wanting to keep sleeping until dinner. She also reports to Sensei that your head's still bothering you after your restless nap. Within five minutes of entering the gym, you are kicked out again to chill outside until your headache clears, which means you're also forced to overthink about how she might be interpreting what you had to say about her.

It's not like you said anything bad. Yeah, you sense danger from her in the sense that she's better than you and you need to work hard to justify showing up at all when she's here. Yeah, she's amazing and did amazing things. Those are all compliments.

But…

She looked halfway to crying. She wasn't taking it as a compliment.

You pass the time sitting on the hill outside, watching whichever team just lost a set running up the hill and joining the girls in handing out water bottles and mixing sports drinks for Karasuno as needed. You don't try to avoid Yachi—if anything, you do try to talk to her, but she's clearly avoiding you, and that makes things worse, so after the first few set losses, you stop trying to talk to her and just focus on manager duties.

When one of the other teams comes out, you'll scamper up to their manager(s) and join in—Suzumeda, Shirofuku, Otaki, and Miyanoshita are generally happy for the help after you assure them that your limit right now is that you're not allowed in the gym and not that you can't do anything. They don't let you lift, but they let you pass out bottles and towels, and you take the chance to chat with them and generally fill the time between now and the end of your exile.

It's a little odd that Nekoma doesn't have a manager, so when they lose a set, you take it upon yourself to approach the coach with a sheepish smile.

"Um, excuse me, sir?"

He turns to you, relaxes with a smile. "You're one of Karasuno's girls, right?"

You nod. "I've been exiled from the gym due to my concussion until my headache clears a bit more, and I noticed your team doesn't have a manager. If you'd like, I can help pass out drinks and stuff out here until I'm allowed to rejoin my team? No ulterior motives or anything, I'm just really bored and couldn't stand sleeping upstairs any longer."

He nods his assent, and you excitedly move to handing out drinks at the top of the hill, taking care to make sure you don't miss any Nekoma guys. It's entertainment enough, makes you feel useful despite the headache, and you find the headache quickly fading as you get your mind off it.

You also find a set of intense eyes staring you down. It's Mohawk Guy, the one that seemed to have been friends with Tanaka and Noya. You roll your eyes and make your way over to him, holding out a bottle. "Here. You can just flag me down, it's fine."

He accepts the bottle, stammering with a profuse blush. Much shier than he looks. Interesting. "Uh—t-thank you! It's v-very nice of you to—to—to help out like this!"

You snort. "People really like confusing me for a nice person. I'm just bored, don't get it confused."

"Bored? What are you doing out here instead of with your team, anyway?" one of the other guys—first year, tall as shit, silvery hair, foreign-looking—says.

You shrug. "I've been banned from the gym until the headache clears. Something about don't make your concussion symptoms worse," you say in a mocking tone. "I'll be fine. They're just worried about me being around too much noise. If you ask me, it's louder out here with the cicadas than it could ever be in the gym."

"Concussion? What happened?"

Huh. You kinda figured one of your guys would have mentioned it. You shrug. "Oh, I don't really remember it. Apparently Hinata took my head off with a spike a couple of weeks ago."

"U-um!" Mohawk Guy says suddenly. "H-how did—I mean—what should I—"

You raise an eyebrow, watch him babble in amusement. He gets almost sort of halfway towards a full sentence before Nekoma's libero smacks the back of his head. "You're gonna freak her out. How many times do I have to tell you to be normal?"

You stifle a laugh as the libero turns to you with a bow.

"I'm so sorry about him. He doesn't know how to talk to girls. I think he's trying to ask what to do to recruit a manager to our team. He made a failed effort* to recruit a manager a few weeks ago."

You laugh, shake your head. "No worries. I'm used to guys like that. But, you know—" Your eyes slide to Mohawk. "—you'd probably do a better job either sending someone else to ask girls or building yourself up until you can talk to girls without the staring contest to start out. You're pretty intense-looking, and I'm more or less immune to that at this point, but 99.9% of girls are gonna get scared off by that combination and become impossible to recruit."

"T-thank you! Sorry!"

Okay, wow. Yeah, you think the Noya vaccine is the only thing protecting you right now. "No need to apologize. Maybe just like… practice talking to real girls so you don't freeze up like this?"

"How am I supposed to practice talking to girls if girls won't talk to me?" he laments.

"Ah. Good point. I mean, you're talking to me just fine…? Just like, pretend you're talking to a person instead of a goddess or something and you'll be alright."

Giving out girl advice wasn't where you'd hoped to take today, but it works well enough, and it keeps your mind off things with Yachi for a minute, which is nice. When he bows and runs off to re-join his team, you sigh a little. It feels good to be useful, at least.

~

[name] to Noya at 22:01

[name]: level one soba request

Noya: is level one soba the worst or the lightest

[name]: the lightest

[name]: level 100 soba request is like, someone just died or something

Noya: [image attached. Image description: A white handkerchief on top of a lump. A tail and one paw stick out from underneath the cloth.]

Noya: Halloween edition Soba!

Noya: talk about it?

[name]: nah

[name]: but thank you for the soba <3

~

Yachi wouldn't talk to you for the rest of the day, or this morning in the bathrooms, or at breakfast. You don't think anyone's noticed, and you do a good job of distracting the other girls before they can notice. This doesn't need to be dramatic. You just… need to clear the air with her. Somehow. When she won't even look at you.

God, you used to be good at talking to people. Where's that skill now?

Anyways, at least Tsukishima's making some kind of progress in his volleyball-related soul-searching. The first indication is a simple question before their set this morning. Coach is doing his pre-set pep talk, reminding the guys of things like it's enough to get a hand on the ball, when Tsukishima speaks up.

"We don't have to stop it?"

It snaps the attention of the rest of the team to him, and you feel the slightest swell of pride at the look in his eyes. You hadn't been particularly invested in whether or not he decided to give a fuck about volleyball—sure, it'd be handy to have his height actually on Karasuno's side, instead of just showing up because he doesn't have anything better to do, but you can't say you had any interest in pushing him one way or another.

That, of course, doesn't mean that you don't notice when he looks a little different during the next set, when his arms go up for a block and he actually looks scary. Fukurodani's ace gets around it, barely, and you listen as his teammates tease him for running away from a block.

He ran away from Tsukishima.

You huff, smile. He'll probably never admit to really trying. You're the same type, after all, but… he's playing differently, just a bit. You know what it looks like to start trying, just a little bit, just so you can figure out whether it's worth trying any harder than that.

He's searching for an answer, and you hope he finds one. Maybe you can find one too, in time.

~

It is in the showers that night that Yachi finally decides to talk to you. She could have picked any time before this, but she chose now, while you're combing some fancy bullshit through your hair courtesy of Kaede, still wrapped up in nothing but a towel, still mostly dripping wet. She marches right up, standing too close.

You suppose it's the first chance you've had to be really alone since the thing, excluding last night's shower run. There's not really much point in there being staged showers for the managers in the same way the guys have to split up shower slots by year to fit everyone in, but it's the first years' turn to shower after the other girls have gone anyway, which really just means it's you and Yachi alone in the showers for as long as you need.

She's in an equal state of undress, standing closer than you thought her capable of with a burning look in her eye. "[s-surname]-san!"³⁶

You frown. The -san is a bit of a downgrade. "Yachi-san?"

"I… I wanted you to know…!" She's got her fist clenched, eye contact unflinching for possibly the first time in her life. It's not a bad look on her. Neither is the towel.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," you try to interrupt, but she stomps her foot and you let her continue.

"I-I don't want to lose to you, either!"

Oh.

"If—if Tsukishima-kun has a different role to fill than Hinata, even though they play the same position, then I don't see why both of us being in the same position means that we can't both be useful!"

You flinch a little. "I wasn't—I'm sorry. You know there's no hard feelings on my end, right?"

"D-do you?" she snaps.

You're going to panic at this rate. You probably fucked things up permanently, the way this is going, but—

"I respect you! I respect you a lot! It made me really happy to hear that you think I'm amazing! But it's important to me that you know that I don't think I'm any better than you, and that I think you're actually way cooler than me, prettier than me, and fit in way better!"

"I'm not—"

"I-I'm not done! You look down on yourself way too much, and it's really frustrating because if you're so cool and still looking down on yourself, what am I, even? I'm not half the manager you are. I wouldn't be pushing through a concussion like this. I'm still learning a bunch of stuff that you seem to just already know somehow even though we started at the same time! I would never have a—an almost-boyfriend, or whatever you have going on with Nishinoya-san. I'd never be able to. I'm basically just here until everyone figures out that I'm not that great and gets annoyed with me, or until they figure out that I'm—that I'm, like, broken or something, and then it's just going to be you left because I won't be able to be around anymore and—"

"Woah, pause, wait, you're not broken, so let's start with that. I said it before, right? There's nothing wrong with you that's any worse than anyone else I know."

"B-but I don't think I'm like you," she insists. She's making a valiant effort to shove down tears, and it's sort of working. "Sometimes I think I can fit in, and I'm just like everyone else, but I know that's not right. Normal people aren't like this. Normal girls aren't like me."

You frown. "I… you seem normal to me, but I guess I'm not seeing things from inside your head."

"I'm sorry if I'm being presumptuous, or pushy, or… I just… I admire you, you know? I don't want you to feel like you're not good enough because of someone like me."

You huff. "I guess that puts us on the same page…? Thanks."

"I don't want to lose to you, either. S-so, let's keep working hard together, okay?"

You stick out a hand for her to shake, scramble to hold up your towel with the other hand. "Alright. Friends?"

She takes it, serious look falling away to a bright smile. "Friends."

Chapter Text

21 - come together

The next day is the first that you manage to make it to lunch without cringing, and the first where you get to be in the gym all day. You push your luck as you always do, spend the night up until dinner helping Noya with his jump set—still not quite there yet—and, after dinner, shoot a text to Noya asking if he'd like to walk around the school with you, since you're supposed to be going on walks and stuff and don't feel like going it alone. Naturally, he'd been so down for it that you'd been able to watch him basically leap out of his chair from across the cafeteria once he read the text.

You kinda missed having time alone with him. You haven't really had much of any since the training camp started, and you realize with a pang that the reduced frequency is an indicator that things are back to normal—no more sleeping in his arms, no more everyone in the house you're in home before dark, no more I'm home! and casual welcome back. No I'm heading out, no see you later. No one to eat dinner with.

A finger pokes your cheek. "You're getting stuck in your head. What's up?"

Right. This is stupid. You're being stupid. "It's nothing."

An unimpressed look. "Sure it is."

You sigh. "Just thinking about what I'm gonna have to put up with when we get back."

"Your dad?"

A nod.

"That's a problem for future [name]-san, isn't it?" He tilts his head. "You're not there and it's not your problem."

"But…"

"But I know that girl. She hates it when you take work from her. If she knew you were trying to take the worry about this from her, she'd be pissed."

You pause. Laugh. "Right. You're right."

You walk a little longer with him. It's nighttime, but it's still hot. The darkness isn't doing anything to cool anything off, but you happen to like it. It feels nice. Comfortable, even though you're stuck to long pants while doing manager stuff. Maybe a bit sticky, but it's not like you're doing any running. (Maybe it feels better because you know you aren't the one stuck exercising in this heat.)

"Thanks for walking with me. I know you've probably had enough exercise this week to last you the year."

"Are you kidding? I can keep going."

You roll your eyes. "Probably shouldn't, though. Something something, rest and recovery, something, take care of your body. I think I've basically gotten my fill, anyway, so we can head back."

"I mean," he hums, "if you took better care of yourself, I might consider taking better care of myself…"

You roll your eyes. "Like you'd do anything to hurt your performance at volleyball. You'll take care of yourself."

The pair of you wander past one of the gyms, and you pause at the distinct sound of volleyball taking place. Check the time on your phone. Noya isn't far behind you when you poke your head in to look—Hinata and Tsukishima, of all people, are mid three-on-three with some guys from other schools. They're locked in, which is sort of cool to watch, but…

You wait for the ball to fall, and then you cross your arms. "Hey, you guys ate, right?"

They freeze, turn to you in comical sync.

Oh god. They haven't eaten. "The cafeteria is getting locked in three minutes. Tell me you guys ate."

Hinata shakes his head gravely. You sigh. If you remember correctly… "Alright. Hold on. You guys clean up."

You've been excluded from the rotation on account of the concussion, but the other managers have a rotating schedule on which two girls clean and lock up the cafeteria at night. Tonight's Shirofuku and Suzumeda, if you recall, the latter of which does not pick up the phone. You get Shirofuku when you try her, though.

"What's up?" she answers.

"Shirofuku-san, hi! How much do you love me?"

There's a pause before she responds. "…why?"

You take on your sweetest affect, smiling even though she can't see you. "Could you maybe hold on locking up the cafeteria for me?"

She sighs. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything! But we've got a couple stragglers who got too focused on individual practice and haven't eaten yet. You wouldn't want anyone to fall out tomorrow because they didn't eat properly, would you? Not you, Shirofuku-san. You'd never."

There's a hesitation. You hear her cover the speaker, probably to talk to Suzumeda. You pounce.

"I'll handle locking up afterwards and cleaning properly, so you guys can go ahead to bed and not miss anything."

"How about you make them handle it, Little Miss Concussion?"

You pout. "It won't be that much. You guys were basically already done, right? And it's not like it's a problem if I miss any sleep, I mean, I've got doctor's orders to take naps as needed, anyway, so if I miss out on sleep—"

"Don't you dare—" Noya interrupts beside you. You lean over, slap a hand over his mouth, and keep talking.

"I've got this. Come on, please?"

"Fine. We'll wait. But you are going to take it easy, you hear? if you don't come upstairs in time we're physically carrying you up the stairs and forcing you to sleep."

"Great!" you chirp. "Thanks so much! I've got them cleaning up, so I'll meet you and get everything ready. You're the best!"

Just as you hang up, something warm and wet lathes over your palm. You squeal, jerking away from Noya. "Did you just lick me!?"

"Sorry," Noya says with a shit-eating grin. "There was this hand over my mouth, see—"

"I'm going to have Nee-san dye that little bleached strip pink next time you bother her for a refresh," you threaten.

He laughs. "I think I could rock it."

...infuriatingly, he totally could. You turn to the six stragglers, face flaming with embarrassment. "Anyway! I got clearance to keep the cafeteria open a little longer for you guys, but obviously it'll create problems if you stay too late and we make it to curfew without being done, so I gotta ask that you guys clean up and eat quick so I can clean up in time, okay?"

You receive six synchronous bows, six shouted thanks. Pride surges in you when the volume doesn't bring about any twinges of pain.

"You're so kind to us!" a voice booms.

Your gravity lurches out of wack—at first, you think that'd be because of Fukurodani's ace (Bokuto, maybe?) rushing towards you, but then a familiar arm settles over you and you realize that Noya has pulled you squarely out of his reach. He steadies you, chin resting on your shoulder to glare at him.

Bokuto stops and pouts, arms crossed. "I just wanted to thank her for making sure we can eat tonight. Is that not okay?"

"Bokuto-san, maybe don't randomly hug someone else's girlfriend," Fukurodani's setter says.

You freeze. "Hold up. Girlfriend?"

"Are you two not dating?" Nekoma's captain asks.

Noya's arm over your shoulder tightens protectively. "Not yet, but she's still off-limits."

"Excuse me, yet?" You turn to glare at him. He raises an eyebrow back.

"Yet."

You snort, roll your eyes. "Right. Okay. Anyways, we all need to hurry, so..." You wriggle out of his hold.

He's so convinced you'll fall in love with him. Like it's that easy. Stupid.

So you meet up with Shirofuku and Suzumeda. The guys trail not far behind—they get leftovers, and they're cold, but it's dinner and they're grateful to you. They go out of their way to avoid making a mess, and Noya lingers by to help you finish cleaning and lock up even though you repeatedly tell him he doesn't have to. He's so pushy. What pisses you off the most is the fact that you can't even be honestly annoyed with it. You lock up, you get to sleep on time, all six of the Stragglers Squad thanks you with their lives, and the next morning—last day of the camp—you settle in for morning practice like always.

When Hinata pulls off some new move—a wipe, Shimizu calls it—Yachi smiles at you and says, "I hope that new quick comes together soon, too."

"Same," you reply back.

~

Her wishes do not go unanswered. The final set of the training camp—imbued with energy from the promise of impending grilled meat and emboldened by Yachi's gentle mention to Hinata that she'd like to see that new quick they're working on—sees the first truly satisfying spike you've seen from Hinata in a while, your head notwithstanding. It takes you too long to recognize that they'd done it, that that was the new quick. It doesn't look much different to you, or to Takeda, apparently, but it's all about options, apparently, and now Hinata has those.

As Yachi cheers beside you, and the guys yell, you can't help but feel a little proud that they managed to make it work. You kinda wanna tell Kageyama I told you so, but you'll let them have this. The set moves on—a successful synchronized attack, a time out, water bottles and towels and excitement and Noya taking a moment to flash that wide grin at you.

"Wait, [name]-san," he says before you can walk away to set down the water bottle caddy, "for good luck—marry me?"

You roll your eyes, turn to pat his shoulder. "I don't think you really need the luck, but why don't you get that set to come together and ask another eight hundred and eighty-six times or so and I'll think about it in the meantime?"

His face lights up as always, and you watch him practically bounce back into position on the court.

It takes two points for the opportunity to come—a receive by Kageyama, and then Noya flowing easily into the set, which Azumane spikes and just barely manages to get in. But he gets it in.

It comes together.

Holy shit, it came together.

You grab at Yachi's arm in your excitement as she cheers—nice kill!—and try to contain yourself. Your first thought had been to cheer with her, but the second thought was swift and much louder—he'll never let you live it down if you do.

He catches your eye as you try to tamp down the smile. Gestures wildly. You roll your eyes in reply. You're sure later you'll receive a tackle for it, but you can try to avoid it, at least.

~

Fukurodani takes the last set with a truly impressive spike from Bokuto. You can't even really be mad that the gambit to crush him didn't really pull through, least of all when Noya sweeps you off your feet in celebration of his first successful in-game jump set.

"So, since I got it to come together—"

"Eight hundred and eighty-five or no deal," you interrupt, voice a little strained from the ongoing bear hug.

That earned you another nine proposals, rapid-fire, like you weren't in the middle of the gym and wriggling to get free, but it's fine, you guess. More important than proposals 106 through 115 is the barbecue, which you manage to escape for in hopes of helping out with.

And everyone is happy with the barbecue. When it kicks off, you find a corner to linger in with Tsukishima. The amount of people is just a bit... overwhelming, that's all. Tsukishima's corner is quiet. It's a good pick.

You can't help but needle him, though. You can only take so much quiet, only so much room to think. "I think that those moments today where things started working are why everyone else works so hard. That's where their passion is coming from."

He sighs. "I gathered. I don't get it, but I think I at least see it. It still feels stupid to just chase a high like that, but..."

You shrug. "Better than walking aimlessly, I guess."

He nods. "Right."

You sigh. The smell of meat is getting to you. "I'll leave you to your skulking," you say. "I'm gonna see if these guys will let me get close to any of the grills."

He nods you away, and you make it all of four steps before you spot a disaster-in-progress in the form of a trembling Yachi, surrounded by basically the four beefiest dudes at the entire camp, including Azumane.

You swoop in quick, gesture to them to step back. "Woah, hey. You're looking a little overwhelmed, Yachi-san. Do you wanna go sit?"

She nods weakly, face deathly pale. You shoot an apologetic look to the guys. "Sorry. I think the crowd's overwhelming her. C'mon, let's go sit with the girls and I'll get your food for you. How's that sound?"

"O-okay..."

"Can I touch you?"

Another weak nod. You place a hand on her shoulder, steer her over towards the other managers at a careful pace. Your firm "excuse me!"s cut through the guys well enough. You suppose there's an advantage to basically everyone knowing you have a concussion. When she's sat down, you kneel in front of her with a look of concern. "Are you gonna be okay?"

She nods. "Y-yeah. Sorry, I just... they're all so big and scary and... I-I know we've been around them all week, and even Azumane-san was there, b-but..."

"It's okay. Seriously. You're allowed to have anxiety, no matter what anyone says. Do you still want to eat?"

"Y-yeah. Maybe. I don't know."

"I'll get a plate with enough for both of us, then, and bring it back."

"Y-you don't have to—" she starts to protest, but you raise a hand to silence her.

"I'm choosing to. You're not making me do anything. It takes no extra effort to just take a little bit extra of what I get while I'm already getting it."

"B-but your head..."

"Will be fine. I'm supposed to be gently pushing myself, right? This is a good gentle push. If it gets too hard, we can send someone else. Alright?"

"Okay..."

You nod to Suzumeda and Shirofuku. "Can you two keep an eye on her and talk to her? Just a distraction to help her calm down. When I'm back, I can walk her through calming down the rest of the way if she needs it."

They nod, and you disappear into the crowd—get a small pile of meat for you and one for Yachi, pile up some vegetables on top to balance it. You're not all that hungry, but you suppose after nearly passing out like that, she probably isn't, either.

For good measure, one rice ball for each of you makes its way onto the pile as you wind your way back, and then you slump into the chair beside her and offer her food. You pick at your own, focus more on letting her get her fill than eating, yourself. The meat smells delicious, but...

You can't shake it. Can't shake the loom and gloom, the knowledge that, after this, you're going home. To your house. To your house.

Your eyes drift to watching everyone mingle as Yachi goes from shaking to calm, from having to be fed to being able to eat on her own.

You promised your dad you'd come home and talk then. You don't know what he could possibly say to you, if anything could make his absence better. You probably deserved it, anyway. You should be the one apologizing. It's not like he killed your mom. His wife. The woman he loved more than anything.

Your eyes trace Shimizu, sauntering obliviously through the crowd of guys to get her food. Maybe you should just find Noya and hang out with him. He's good at distracting you. You're sure he'd be thrilled to be hanging out with a girl at one of these, anyhow. He's just so easy to be around.

But right now, he's not far behind Shimizu, flanked by Tanaka and Mohawk guy. Glaring, probably audibly growling. Letting some guys from Fukurodani know, in no uncertain terms, to lay off.

A hand tugs you out of your thoughts, forces you to turn to the other girls.

Suzumeda leans in, devilish grin on her lips. At some point, Miyanoshita and Otaki also joined you, so, save for Shimizu, all the managers are present. "So, [name]-chan."

"Yeah?"

"We've been good. We've been patient. But you're about to go home—" Gee, thanks for the reminder. "—and we can't let you leave without answers."

Ugh. This is about Noya, isn't it? You suppress the urge to roll your eyes.

"What is the deal with him?" Otaki asks. "I mean, you guys are really obviously super close. Like, really obviously. And you know, we're nosy... why aren't you dating him?"

"Him?" You snort.

"Yeah! He clearly likes you, you like to act tough but I'm pretty sure you like him, I mean... why not?"

You jerk your chin towards where he's patrolling around Shimizu, chewing your lip hard enough to punish. "Does it look like he likes me, or does it look like he likes girls and I just happen to be one who pays attention to him?"

"[name]-chan…"

They have more to say in response, but you refuse to entertain it. Instead, you zone out Shimizu-ways, watch her remain blissfully unapproached as the trio does their sworn duty. Noya does his job well.

"Yachi-san," you interrupt suddenly.

She jolts. "What's up?"

"Can I borrow your bus pillow when we leave today? My head's kinda starting to hurt but I can't sleep on the bus without resting my head on the window. You can probably imagine how much that will not help me at all."

"Oh, uh, sure! I don't mind! Do you want me to go ask Sensei about your painkillers?"

You shake your head. "I should be fine. It's not that bad, I just need to sleep it off."

Doubtful that you actually sleep.

~

On the bus a short hour or so later, clad in your bus hoodie—well-worn, faded, and cozy without making you overheat—you rest your head on the borrowed pillow and try to keep your eyes closed. You don't want to see the look on Noya's face when he realizes you've taken a seat on the side of the bus with single-seat rows.

You hear it, though. Footsteps stuttering to a stop, then Yachi's voice.

"Oh, she said her head was bothering her, so she was just going to nap."

You can actually hear the pout in his voice. "Am I not a good enough pillow…?"

"Oi, Nishinoya. Keep moving," Ennoshita says. "We all have to get on the bus, you know."

"Right. Yeah, sorry. Ryuu! I'm coming to sit with you!"

The footsteps continue. You pull your hood over your head and try to shove down the guilt. When your phone buzzes, you flinch.

Noya to [name] at 14:13

Noya: [image attached. Image description: Soba with her mouth open and both front paws in the air, batting at something out of focus in the foreground.]

Noya: Soba fighting off your headache. get some good rest for me, ok?

Somehow, this doesn't help your guilt. It doesn't help it one bit.

Chapter Text

22 - come home

That night, having taken a quiet walk back from the school with Noya, you linger on your porch with a lump in your throat. It takes an embarrassing amount of time to open it, an embarrassing amount of time to confront him. You half wonder if Noya's watching you stand there like a coward from his house.

He'd tell you to steel yourself and get it over with.

You jerk the door open without a second thought.

Inside, your father sits on the couch. He looks up from the book on his lap at your intrusion, and you, hopeful, mumble I'm home once the staring contest starts getting boring.

"Welcome back," he says. "Have you eaten?"

"I had a slice of pizza at the rest stop, but that was a few hours ago." Your eyes scan the room—blinds opened, TV on low. Fresh fruit out for Mom—the ones you'd left behind were at risk of turning when you left a week ago—and no trash overflowing from where you can see the can in the kitchen. "I can maybe throw something together. I have some curry in the freezer, so—"

"Let's eat together," he says. "You used to love that donburi place³⁸ nearby, right? We'll go."

The thought of inevitably blowing up at him in the middle of the restaurant makes you feel sick. "Can we do takeout? I'm really tired and don't think I can handle eating in public right now. You know. Because of the concussion."

He blinks. "Sure. We'll do takeout. Do you want to go together to get it, or…"

"Maybe you could pick it up and I can stay back and recover from the bus ride? I've gotta unpack from the week and everything."

"Right. That sounds good. Do you still like the karaage set?"

Oh. He actually remembered that. "Yeah. Thanks. I'm gonna, um… I'm gonna take a quick shower while you're out. I should be done around the time you get back."

"Sounds good. See you in thirty…?"

"Yeah. Don't forget your wallet."

He doesn't. You shower, wash the week off with water so hot that your skin is red-tinged and a little raw when you step out to towel off. You agonize a little over pajama choices—the decision between comfort for a night you're sure is going to blow up or wearing some clothes you don't care that much about so you don't form a negative association with your favorite pajama shorts—and by the time you're downstairs and tossing your laundry into the washer, your father is returning with a plastic bag of your collective dinner.

He sets it on the coffee table as you linger in the hallway. "Ready?"

You sit on the neighboring armchair, take your share of the food. "Thanks for the food."

He nods, takes his order in the same manner. You eat in silence for a bit—when your father can't take it, he turns up the TV to fill the air. When you can't, you resort to delicately balancing your food container on your lap and texting with your off hand. Noya's sent you an additional Soba for the night, perhaps in anticipation of the shit night you're going to have—it's a selfie, really, and he's wearing the same shirt he just walked you home in, bag still hooked on his arm as Soba appears to be headbutting him directly in the face.

Noya: someone missed me

Noya: if you want to come see her tonight, I'm sure she missed you too

You can't help but smile.

[name]: I've definitely missed her <3

[name]: coast clear for now but I miss her more every second

"How's the phone treating you?" your dad asks tentatively. "Not due for an upgrade or anything, right?"

You shake your head. "It's great. Uh, thanks."

"If you wanted a newer model—"

"It wouldn't fix anything," you interrupt sharply. "If that's what you're trying to do."

He flinches. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to buy your forgiveness."

You don't answer. The pair of you are left in the same silence as before.

This… doesn't feel any better than eating alone, truthfully. Or maybe you just got used to being alone, and now it feels weird to not be. You don't even know what he wants from you here. Did he think he could just come home and everything be normal? Did he think a fucking meal set was going to undo the past two years of loneliness?

"How was the training camp?"

"It was good. The guys were working really hard, and all the new stuff they've been working on feels like it's finally starting to come together just in time. We've got prelims the day after tomorrow, and I think the bracket's already out and I don't think any of the schools they're up against are any of the particularly strong ones in the prefecture, so they'll have a little more time between the initial qualifiers and the later part of the tournament, if they can just make everything work, and—" You slam your mouth shut. "—sorry, I'm rambling."

"No, no, I'm glad you seem to like it."

"When's my birthday, Otoo-san?" you ask suddenly.

"What?"

"My birthday. When is it."

"July seventh," he says. "Did you think I forgot?"

"I mean, I spent the day alone and the only present I got was a cat picture from my friend, who didn't know why I was asking for one, so…" You shrug.

He blinks slowly. "Isn't it… coming up?"

"You just said the right date. What do you mean, is it coming up?"

He suddenly goes pale. "What month is it?"

Holy shit. He actually doesn't know what month it is. "It's August, Otoo-san. My birthday was last month."

"Shit. [name], I'm—"

"Don't. I guess I already got my confirmation that you didn't do it on purpose. An apology is just going to piss me off."

He sets aside his dinner—mostly done—and pushes himself to stand. "Wait here. I'm heading out."

"Wait—"

"I'll be back in twenty—no, fifteen—minutes."

"But—"

He's out the door before he lets you get a protest out.

~

Hiro nearly trips three times on the way back from the convenience store. He's as careful as he can be while still being quick, careful not to drop his purchase. The cashier—an older woman—had looked at him like he was slightly insane for his urgency, then she'd looked at him with pity when he'd asked about candles.

Back at the house, he half expects you to have left or to have gone upstairs. He'd told you to wait there, but…

Well, you're in the same spot. That's about all the positive things he can say.

You're also knees to chest and hyperventilating, and that's not really what he was expecting to see when he returned.

He sets down the bag on the coffee table, amid the discarded plates and bowls and cups, and rushes to crouch in front of you, hip jolting the table when he drops to his knees. "What happened, what's wrong?"

You don't respond; you're too busy gasping for air, eyes somewhere far away and tears slipping down your cheeks. It's like you don't even notice that he's there.

"[name]," he says sharply.

Nothing. Your hands are clawing at your upper arms desperately for something, nails digging in. When he sees the red lines you're leaving behind, he reaches out and grabs your wrists firmly.

You seem to notice him at last, thrashing back with a wordless yell.

"[name], listen to me—"

"Don't—don't—don't—"

He clocks the fear on your face and it gives him pause. "Okay. I'm going to let you go, but I need you to stop clawing at yourself. Okay?"

You still. He tentatively lets your wrists go, and you wrap your arms around your knees, rocking in the armchair. He can't have been gone that long, but you look like you've just watched someone die. (He'd know. He's seen that face before, in nightmares.)

"Will you tell me what happened?"

"You—" You try, a shrill breath in cutting you off. "You—you left—"

"I just ran to the store," he explains slowly. "It's a ten minute walk, but I ran so I wouldn't be gone long. What's wrong with that?"

"Okaa-san—" you try, cutting off in yet another gasp.

Oh. "Sweetheart…"

"—never came back—don't—don't just leave like that—"

"Okay. I'm sorry. I won't do that again."

It doesn't soothe you—you're stuck in that loop, eyes barely focused, muttering under your breath whenever you can catch it long enough. It's devastating to watch. Can't he do anything? Has this happened to you before? How many nights have you sat on the couch like this alone and just—hyperventilated until you passed out?

Holy shit. Fucking man up, Hiro. Take care of your daughter.

He stands. "I'm going into the other room for just a moment, okay? I'm going to get you a glass of water and some tissues. Are you okay with that?"

You offer the faintest nod, and he sweeps out of the room. He doesn't know where you've been keeping the tissues, if you've been keeping any, so he grabs a roll of paper towels from the kitchen and returns with a glass of water. He hands you a balled up paper towel, and you crush it in your fist.

"Is… is this the first time this has happened to you?" he asks.

"No." Your gasps are coming more slowly now, quieter. "Just—just let me ride it out."

"I'm not leaving," he says firmly.

"You don't have to stay."

"I'm staying."

You stare at him a moment, eyes widening just a bit.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Hiro starts, which is true. He's completely at a loss. He's never seen you like this, never seen anyone like this. This wasn't grief—you were panicked, somewhere else entirely.

"I can tell."

Harsh, but fair. "Do you want to talk about it?"

A shrug. "Dunno what to say."

"Come on. You can't just not talk about that."

You dab at your eyes harshly before you speak. "Okaa-san and I got into a fight. The day she died. She went out for a walk so we could both calm down."

Hiro's jaw clenches. He's never heard this part of the story—at the time, you'd been too shell-shocked to say anything, and if he remembers, you didn't talk for days after. He'd had to hear from a neighbor—now moved away—that you'd seen Tomoko get hit and screamed, that the two of you were in front of the house. He hadn't had the heart to question it further—what more was there to know, except his wife was dead?

If he'd known, would he have been angry? Right now, all he can feel is his heart shattering. The only sound he can make is your name, broken and disbelieving.

"I came out to wait for her so I could apologize." Your tone has slipped from the teary panic of before to something detached and far away. The shift scares him more than he'd like to admit. "And then she died. And then we were—whatever happened, and you left, and—and every time you're out late, which is every day, I can't sleep until you're home. Even though you don't love me anymore."

He jolts, eyes widening. "[name], no, I never stopped loving you. Please believe me."

"I don't." You turn away from him, cheek resting on your knees. "I've been alone for two years. At first I thought you just needed time—I mean, Okaa-san just died, of course you were upset—but…"

He sighs. Lets his head thunk against the side of the armchair. He shifts his body around to sit with his back against it so that he can see the altar from here. "I had a bet with your mother on who would outlive who. She insisted I'd live longer, and of course I thought I'd be the one to go first. Tomoko always had to be right, you know?"

"I was wondering who I got that from," you mumble.

"In hindsight, it was kind of messed up. The winner of the bet was the one who didn't have to live to see the results. I really, really wanted to win that one, but, well… I never liked the person I was without her, you know? When I met your mother, it was like I became real. And then we had you, and you scared the shit out of me. You're too smart. You get that from her, too. And then Tomoko was gone, and I didn't know who I was anymore. Still don't, honestly. I throw myself into work. I lose track of time. I let my emotions drown me. I remember my daughter's birthday is July seventh but I don't remember when July seventh is. She was always the one to remind me—not her birthday is July seventh but that means her birthday is next week. I couldn't make the connections like that."

"So when Okaa-san died, you…"

He nods. "Completely gutted. I lost my sense of time, my self control. And the longer I threw myself into working and drinking just to feel almost okay for a second, the worse it felt."

"…that doesn't give the past two years back."

"Please believe me. Please. I stayed alive because of you."

"Can you come home because of me, too?"

He pauses for just a moment. "I'll work on it. I'm sorry. You're right that it won't give you the years back, but you don't deserve to be alone anymore."

"I'm not, really. Alone, I mean. But I want my dad back."

He won't promise you. He can't—not with the promise of a promotion at work, of new executive duties, of more nights where he actually has to drink with coworkers and higher-ups for the sake of his career. Not with how integral he's become to the company.

Instead, he says: "I'll do the best I can to be here. We'll work something out."

You don't look at him, but you seem to understand without him saying. That's good.

A long moment of silence. The TV was turned off long ago—you must have done it before you broke down—so between the two of you, there's just your collective breaths, your errant sniffles. He can't take it.

"Do you… want a distraction…?"

A shrug.

He turns the TV back on, flips through until he settles on a rerun of some volleyball match or another. He barely knows enough to recognize that it's volleyball on the screen, but based on the whole club thing, it's a safe bet that you'd enjoy it.

You huff when you realize what he's put on, a cool seven minutes later. "Do you have any idea what you're even watching?"

"Uh." He coughs. "Thailand is, uh… winning? They have more points than China."³⁹

"They're in the lead for this set, but it looks like China took the first set, so they're technically winning right now."

"Why don't you tell me more, and I'll cut us some cake?"

You tilt your head. "Cake?"

"Yeah. I went out to get your birthday cake. It's, uh, late, but…"

A weak smile meets your lips. It's something. "I didn't expect you to do that."

"It's the least I can do. Should have done it a month ago."

"It's alright," you say as he cuts a slice for you. "I'm glad you're here now."

You curl up in the armchair with your plate and a fork—less "fetal position" and more "comfortable lounge". That's something. Hiro relocates to the couch to watch.

"So, uh… what exactly is happening here?"

"Okay, so, the short version is, they're playing don't let the ball touch the floor but with teams. Ball touches floor on the other guy's side of the net, and you get a point, so you have to try to keep the ball from hitting the floor on your side while also trying to force it to happen on their side." The more you talk, the lighter you seem to be. It's good progress.

He nods along. "I see. Why's one of them got a different jersey color?"

"Oh! That's the libero. You see how there's women on the team who are hitting the ball and others that are jumping up to stop them? The libero's entire job is to stand back and get the ball up before it hits the floor if it gets past those blockers. The way it was explained to me is that there's a whole bunch of extra rules that apply to the libero—she can't block or attack, for example, and she goes on and off the court using different rules than the other players do, so the refs need to be able to spot her easier."

All your explanations are like this—concise, easy to understand. You talk quickly, with a smile, interspersing basic explanations between bites of cake and pointing out what's going on onscreen.

He's struck, suddenly, by how much you've grown in the past two years. He'd thought it before—the cold way you looked at him when he interrupted you with that delinquent, the ice in every response, the fact that you were fooling around with some boy when you thought you were alone. You look more like your mother, ramble less, get to the point more, and yet, like this, he recognizes you.

"You really like volleyball, huh?"

You freeze. Turn away to hide your face. "I… y-yeah, I guess."

He laughs, turning back to the screen. "I'm glad you're managing instead of playing, at any rate. Half these women look like they don't even like men."

You laugh. He can tell you're still recovering from the panic from earlier. "Right. Yeah."

~

Shimizu to Karasuno Managers!!! at 12:52

Shimizu: [name]-chan, how are you feeling? Nishinoya said you were taking the day but didn't explain further

Shimizu: if you need anything, please don't hesitate to let us know

[name]: sorry lol

Shimizu: will you be alright for tomorrow? We leave for prelims at 7

~

Shimizu to Karasuno Managers!!! at 15:34

Shimizu: [name]-chan?

Chapter Text

23 - closet door

You do not answer the door.

Not the bell, not the knocks. Not phonecalls or texts.

And Yuu, predictably, is worried.

He'd assumed, when you didn't leave the house this morning, that your night had been about as rough as anticipated, but the radio silence throughout the day is concerning. Concerning enough that, after ringing the doorbell twice and waiting ten minutes, he's about to go get the camping gear from his house and wait you out.

He rings the doorbell a third time. His phone buzzes a moment later.

[name] to Noya at 19:48

[name]: go away

Noya: not until I know you're okay

[name]: im not

He sighs. He's not going to get anywhere like this.

He remembers the spare key and locates it with ease, walks right in as quietly as he can manage. You're not in the living room, so you must be upstairs—he climbs the stairs, winds down the hall to your room, where the door is shut but not locked. He cracks it just a bit, then knocks. There's a shuffling from within the room.

"Come on, [name]-san," he says softly through the crack.

You don't reply. He opens the door the rest of the way—your futon is still laid out, and in fact looks freshly vacated, based on the fact that you haven't so much as smoothed out the comforter. You've got no less than four plushies laid up in said futon—he suppresses a smile when he spots the one that had been a get-well-soon gift from Shouyo—but you're nowhere in sight.

[name]: I said go away

[name]: I look awful

[name]: I don't want to be real right now please don't make me

"Are you sick?" he asks out loud, frowning. The text comes back quickly.

[name]: in the head yeah

[name]: did you seriously use the spare key to get in because I didn't wanna talk

He shrugs. "I was worried. Last time you skipped a day you at least came to the door."

[name]: getting punched in the face and telling you about my mom wasn't all that bad. Just exhausting

[name]: I literally want to die right now please just go

His heart cracks at the words. "Yeah, when you put it that way, there's no way I'm doing that."

[name]: senpai

[name]: please

He sits down on your futon, legs crossed. "I'm not leaving until I know you're okay, but I can text Okaa-san and let her know you're not up to dinner tonight."

A muffled fuck! leaves the nearby closet. He huffs and moves to sit with his back against the wall beside the closet door. You must have forgotten.

[name]: see now I just feel bad

"You didn't already feel bad?"

[name]: you know what I mean

[name]: you'll miss dinner for sure if you wait until I feel better

[name]: you're gonna die here at the rate I'm going

He shrugs. "I can miss it. I'll be fine."

"Don't you fucking dare," comes the muffled reply. It's obvious, when you finally speak, that you've been crying. "You have games. Tomorrow. You need to be at your best."

"Oh, she talks!" He smiles. It's progress. "You're still coming tomorrow, right?"

Silence, both from the closet door and his phone. His heart drops.

"[name]-san?"

The closet door creaks a little. "Do you want me to?" you ask quietly.

"I don't think I'll play half as good without you there to watch me," he says honestly. "And I need you there as a good luck charm."

"But do you want me there, because—"

"[name]-san. I want you at dinner with my family, and I want you at the matches tomorrow, and I wanted you at practice today, and I want you at every practice after this, and I want you at every match I ever play."

Silence. You pull the door shut. For a moment, he thinks he's said the wrong thing, but then—

[name]: can you get out for two seconds so I can get dressed

"You're coming to dinner?"

[name]: im actually bisexual

"What?"

[name]: im coming out of the closet

He lets out a startled bark of laughter. "Marry me. Don't even get dressed; I don't mind."

[name]: 875

[name]: I mind

[name]: I PROMISE I'll actually let you back in the room once Im dressed

"Fine, fine." He gets up. Leaves the room. Closes the door behind him. There's a moment of shuffling from within—your footsteps approaching. He thinks you're about to open the door for a moment, and then he hears you fumbling with the lock and jerks it open, careful not to hit you with it. "Oh, no you don't. You promised!"

You don't fight it. You let him push open the door the rest of the way, greet him with your hood pulled firmly over your head and an adorable pout. "Only because I promised," you say quietly.

God, you're in a state. Your eyes are red with tears, face swollen. "Do you wanna talk about what happened?"

"He bought me a late birthday cake. He said he didn't know last month was July."

"That's… good, right?"

"He did it right when things got tense and just left. He walked."

"O…kay?"

"So I immediately had a complete mental breakdown and he came back with cake to find me hyperventilating where he left me because the last time someone went for a walk after a tense conversation they fucking died." You lean into him, slowly bringing your arms up to wrap around his torso. He returns the hold tentatively, resting his chin on top of your head.

"Oh." Ohh. He holds you just a bit tighter as the realization sets in. "I'm so sorry."

"'N then he apologized and we talked about Okaa-san for a while and I thought maybe he might actually listen and be home more, but he hesitated and said he'd try." A sniffle. "And we watched volleyball to distract me, but then he—he—"

Your shoulders shake. He pulls away, guides you to sit with him so he can cradle you just a little bit better. (Now is not the time to think about the fact that you started watching volleyball for comfort. He files it away for later.)

"I can't ever come out to him, Noya," you mumble. "He said he was glad I wasn't playing volleyball because all the women—it was some match between women's teams—looked like lesbians. Like it's a bad thing."

A bunch of potential responses race through his head. Everything from what an asshole to okay, like lesbians aren't hot which he's pretty sure he's slightly more qualified to say than the average guy but probably isn't very useful right now. What comes out feels lame and not nearly enough. "That's messed up."

You nod. "It's like—I don't even know what I want from him. Him not being here makes me feel like shit. And when he's actually here I feel worse. And now I have evidence that he'll never accept me for me, and probably if I did come out he wouldn't get the bisexual thing or pull something about how it's fine if I grow out of it and end up with a man, and—and—" You pause. Buckle in on yourself a little as your stomach growls loud enough for Yuu to hear. "I feel sick."

"Have you eaten today, like, at all?"

You shake your head. "I… I didn't get out of bed until I heard you coming up the stairs."

"[name]-san!" he admonishes. "Alright, that's it. Get everything you need for tomorrow."

"Huh?"

"You're coming to dinner. You're gonna eat."

"But why—"

He tilts his head. "I'm gonna ask you to stay the night, and I don't want you to have any "nos". So you gotta get your stuff together and bring it with you to my place before I ask so you don't have the "no" that your stuff is all here and you don't want to drop by in the morning."

You let out a soft laugh, melting into him just a touch. "You're gonna casually ask me to stay the night."

"Well, yeah!" He shakes your shoulder playfully. "You're good luck. You proved it at the training camp. Gotta absorb all the luck I can off you! And, y'know, I sleep way better when I'm cuddling someone, and—"

"Okay, okay. Message received, you wanna cuddle. Is Rina-san gonna be okay with that?" You wriggle out of his hold, go hunting for clothes.

"What do you mean? She loves you."

"I think any reasonable parent might raise an eyebrow at a girl sleeping in the same bedroom as her son. I don't exactly have the concussion to use as an excuse anymore."

He shrugs. "If Satsuki can have her girlfriends stay the night, I don't see why you can't. Besides, it doesn't mean anything, right?" He flashes a smile, winks at you.

You roll your eyes. "I don't like your implications, Mister. And yes, strictly platonic."

"As long as you still come along. Come on, give me more reasons to say no so I can get you to admit you wanna sleep with me tonight!"

It might've been on the nose, but at your flustered squawk and the bag suddenly flung at his face, Yuu thinks it was worth it.

Even better yet, you play along—you're clearly still down, but you set up arguments for him to knock down one by one, even as you finish packing and walk with him back to his place. By the end of the night, over video games and bantering with Satsuki, you've given in—you steal the shower, cuddle right up to him with no pretense. His chest swells with pride at the feeling of your head resting on it at the end of the night, and threatens to burst when he catches a whiff of his own body wash on your skin.

Strictly platonic, his ass.

~

You wake up to a commotion on the bus. When you turn around in your seat, leaning over Noya to investigate, you find Hinata leaning into the bus aisle, his head between his knees.

"What's going on?" you ask.

"Shouyo's not feeling good," Noya says. "Anxiety, apparently."

You furrow your brow. "Is he going to be okay?"

Tanaka pokes his head into the aisle. "He gets like this before matches. Before our first practice match he literally threw up in my lap."

You cringe. That sounds… bad. "Okay, wait—Tanaka-senpai, switch seats with me."

He blinks. "What?"

"You heard me." You grab Noya's shoulder and slide over his lap. He lets out a strangled noise, hands coming up to steady you as you slide right past him into the aisle. The shuffle is quick and, for your part, painless. You slip past Tanaka—Noya moves into the seat you'd had, and Tanaka takes the newly-opened aisle seat so that you can sit across from Hinata. "Hinata, do me a huge favor and hum for me."

He looks up in confusion, but before he can say anything, he slaps a hand over his mouth and drops his face back between his legs. "W-what?" he asks weakly.

"You heard me. You can hum anything, it doesn't matter what, but your body's gag reflex can't actually work if you're humming."

He begins to hum—the sound is tuneless, and you're not sure it comes from any particular song so much as his anxiety. You smile softly and reach out a hand rub small circles into his shoulder blade.

"Okay, that's good. Just keep humming for me no matter what while we wait for Coach Ukai to pull the bus over." You speak quickly and softly, but for the last part, you raise your voice insistently so that you're heard. The sharp look you flash in the rear view mirror catches Coach Ukai's eye, and you think he nods in reply. Good.

"I can't believe you're getting nervous like this again," Tsukishima says. "You know, if you didn't gorge yourself like you were talking about this morning, you might not have made yourself sick—"

You don't look up when you speak. "Tsukishima."

The anxious buzz of the other guys falls quiet.

"Do you think you're helping right now?"

Silence.

"Exactly. Not the time. So shut up."

There are a few stifled laughs, but you don't care about those right now. Your focus is on Hinata. It seems to be anxiety, rather than panic—that's good. You have better techniques for anxiety attacks than panic attacks anyway.

"Okay, Hinata, I'm going to ask you to do something for me, but you can't stop humming, okay?"

He nods shakily.

"So what I need from you right now is to just look around, and I want you to focus on picking out five things that you can see, okay?"

He nods, and as he continues to hum the same random notes, he picks up his head to look around.

"When you're done, you can just nod at me to let me know, okay?"

You watch his eyes settle on distinct points—first to you, then to Tanaka in the row beside you. Then to the roof of the bus, then to a sulking Tsukishima a few rows back, and finally, to his own shaking hands in his lap. When he's done, he looks at you again and nods.

"Good. You're doing great. Now, I want you to find four things that you can touch right now. Can you do that for me? When you do, I need you to go out of your way to actually touch those things. Focus on how they feel, alright?"

Again you watch him work—he reaches out and brushes fingertips against your arm. Then against the seat of the bus, then against his shorts, and then, after a moment of hesitation, against his own hair. You keep your hand rubbing his back the whole time and nod.

"Tanaka-senpai, can you hand me my bag from the row? Thanks. Keep humming for me, okay, Hinata?"

He nods. He's switched to a random lullaby, and you smile when you recognize the tune.

"Okay, I know this will be hard because you have to keep humming, but try your best for me, okay? I need you to find three things that you can hear for me. It can be any three things, including your own voice, but I want you to take a moment to notice how they sound as you're listening to them."

He tilts his head this way and that, and for just a moment, his humming falters. You force down the surge of panic as you see him lurch a little, but he picks back up with the humming and nods to you when he's picked out his three things.

"Good." You rifle around in your bag for a moment, searching for something. When you find it, you bring it to the top of the bag and open the cap. "Two things you can smell next. You've probably got the one from the bus air, but just in case, I have something to make it easier."

He sniffs at the air a moment, and once he has, you hold out your open bottle of hand lotion—vanilla-scented—for him to smell. Once he's done, you put it away and immediately reach back into your bag for your water bottle. With honestly perfect timing, the bus slows to a stop on the side of the road.

"Almost done, Hinata. We're gonna make our way off the bus first, and then we'll get to that last one."

You walk behind him down the bus aisle. The entire time, your hand doesn't leave his back—you're careful to keep soothing him, to keep him as grounded as you can get him. When the two of you are clear of the bus, you purposely remove your hand from his back and take three very large steps away. "Alright. Stop humming and let it out."

He obeys to the letter—the humming stops, and then he lurches over and begins to throw up. It's loud and gross and smells bad, but at the very least, it's on the side of the road and not on the bus where you'll be trapped with the smell for another forty-five minutes or so. "I'm so sorry," he cries, doubled over with his hands on his knees.

You uncap the water bottle and hand it to him. "None of that. We weren't finished with the grounding exercise. Here's one thing you can taste. I would recommend swishing and spitting to get the stomach acid off of your teeth and the taste out of your mouth a little bit."

Again he obeys, swishing the water in his mouth and spitting with a distasteful look on his face. "Ugh. That was disgusting."

"Does it feel a little better, though?"

"Yes, it does... Thank you…"

"You can keep that water bottle; you'll want to drink the rest of it in slow sips until we get to the tournament. Hydration and all that."

At the mention of the impending matches, he looks a little pale again. You reach out and replace your hand on his back, hoping that the motion will soothe him a little bit. The two of you get back onto the bus and into your seats, where you lean in with a sympathetic look.

"Nerves about the matches, then?"

He nods weakly. "I just—I don't want to mess up today. I don't want to bring everyone down. I just want to stay on the court as long as possible."

"And you're going to. You know that, right? Even if you have one bad day, you've earned a place on the court already. It's not like Coach made you a starter just because he felt bad."

"But…"

"I mean, you're going to be fine. All of you are. Sure, anxiety is a thing and I don't expect you to just stop feeling it, but you should know that all you have to do is everything you've already been doing. And if that's the case, then you don't really have to worry, because you already know you can do it. You've been doing it. So you know you're capable of it. Y'know?"

He looks at you with tears in his eyes. "[surname]-san…"

"In the first place, I've spent the past two months watching you guys play and I'm pretty confident that you're gonna do just fine today. Even if you can't trust yourself, you can trust my judgment, right?"

"Yeah... you're right. You're so nice... seriously."

You shake your head. "I'm not nice. I'm talking about statistics. You know that we keep those, right? And I like to look at them. so I can say with absolute certainty that all of you have been getting more solid in the things that you're trying and that you've been steadily closing the point gap between you and high-level teams. So you should know that when I say that I'm confident in you doing well today, it isn't based on feelings. It'd be rude not to trust me when I put so much thought into it, right?"

He smiles. An unfamiliar arm reaches from the row in front of you and shoves your shoulder playfully. It's Tanaka. "Man, Noya-san's right. You really are a tsundere. It's okay to say that you like us and trust us to win, you know?"

You bat at his hand with an unimpressed look. "Yeah, when I feel that way, I'll say it. Until then, I'll say what I mean. Thank you for the suggestion, though."

"But man, [surname]-san, you handled that really good." Hinata tilts his head. "How did you know the trick with the humming?"

You laugh and shrug your shoulders. "Had the stomach flu last year and had to ride it out alone. I think I threw up every hour at exactly the hour for like, two days straight or something. I didn't really want to have to clean anything up, so I figured out how to make sure I didn't have to. And you know what? It worked!"

He furrows his brow, giving you a sad look. "You had to go through that alone?"

A nervous laugh, a shrug. "It's not that big a deal. Otoo-san was busy with work, and it's just the two of us, so I didn't really wanna bother him. In any case, I got through it just fine, and if I hadn't had to deal with that, then I wouldn't have had the trick to share with you now. So it worked out! I'm glad for it."

"If you're sure…"

"Anyways, how are you feeling now?"

He smiles. "Better. Thanks."

You spend the rest of the bus ride to the tournament venue talking to Hinata. He seems, for the most part, calmer than before. You'd like to think that you do a pretty good job of keeping his mind off of the anxiety—you manage to ramble engagingly enough about the most recent book that you read, although you don't remember much about it given that you read it before the concussion. By the time you're all getting off the bus at the venue, he seems more or less thoroughly calmed.

You wait for Tsukishima, hands behind your back. When he steps off the bus, you grab at his arm with a tilt of your head. "Sorry for snapping earlier, by the way. I don't mind the way you act the rest of the time, but I was just worried about making sure that everything was sorted out right now. It wasn't personal, you know?"

He shrugs. "It's fine."

On the way in, a pouting Noya falls in step with you. You roll your eyes. "Dare I ask?"

"Nothing."

"Uh-huh. Nothing. Are you jealous? Is that it?"

"Yes," he says. "I'm very jealous. Next time, I'll be the one to get sick on the bus so you can lovingly rub my back for ten minutes."

"You're gonna make yourself sick from nerves?" You roll your eyes. "You? Yeah, sure. I'll believe that for sure. And lovingly? Dude, he was gonna throw up. Physical touch grounds people when they're anxious."

He sighs, draping his arms around you. "Fine. You were really good with Shouyo. I'm proud of you."

"Proud of me?"

"Yeah. You know, the flu thing."

Oh. Yeah. You guess you didn't really get too anxious talking about your family or anything. You shrug. "Thanks, I guess. It didn't feel good."

"But you did a really good job. Marry me?"

You huff and bump your head against his shoulder. "Let me run the numbers... Maybe if you ask another eight hundred and seventy-four times."

"I can do that."

You're starting to worry that he actually can.

Chapter Text

24 - preliminary

The first school that your boys are going up against looks like it's comprised entirely of delinquents. You don't necessarily like to judge people based on their looks, but now that you're on the court for warm ups, you get to listen to them taunt Tanaka and confirm your initial impression beyond a doubt. Of course, it's getting to Tanaka, and more importantly, it's getting to you.

"Is it just me," Yachi says, hugging her arms to herself, "or do volleyball players just all naturally look pretty scary?"

You nod. "I bet they're all talk, though, I mean, look at them."

"I am looking at them!" she replies in a hushed whisper. "They're big! And scary! They are literally picking a fight with Tanaka-senpai right now!"

You shrug. "Yeah, I bet they feel really good picking a fight from the other side of the net. But like, you see that hair? Dude obviously cares more about how he looks than things like actually being cool or actually being good in a fight. I could probably kick his ass myself." Just for fun and because your head is starting to hurt, you make it a point to raise your voice a little bit. "Guys like that always chicken out the second they actually have to do anything real."

Yachi goes deathly pale and grabs at your arm harshly. "[name]-chan! They're gonna hear you! I think one of them did!"

You feel a little bad, but not for that—being heard was the point, thank you. It's more to do with the way she's more worried about your safety than she is assured by your absolute confidence. "Deep breaths, Yacchan."

Though you would love to keep talking trash, it probably isn't the best sportsmanship to start fights with the other team, even as a manager. That, and Yachi might actually pass out if you keep threatening to fight them. Instead, you begrudgingly keep your mouth shut for the rest of warmups.

When the time comes to head up to the stands with Yachi—only one manager allowed on the court for the match, after all—Noya pulls you to the side with an expectant look. You roll your eyes, but the Ohgi Minami guys are watching and looking for shit to talk, so what else is there to do but play it up?

"Yes, Senpai?" you ask, making it a point to tilt your head ever so sweetly.

He blinks in surprise. "…what are you doing?"

A saccharine smile. "Your opponents are pissing me off. Yachi looked like she was going to pass out when I told her I could take 'em in a fight, so I'm being forced to resort to the next best thing: being a girl who acts all cute and sweet with you guys and rubbing it in their faces."

He laughs and ruffles your hair. "That's good. You're still not allowed to get into any fights, but we'll make sure to beat 'em for you. You gotta promise me something, though."

"Mm?" You tilt your head cutely.

"Stop being so damn cute, I'm trying to propose right now. You gotta marry me if we win, okay?"

You smile and laugh right back. "I'll marry you if you hit the quota and win for me. We have a deal?"

"You didn't even have to ask." He pulls you into a quick side hug, and you flash a smile and wave on your way out to the hallway. The grin only widens when you catch sight of a few fuming guys on the other team who obviously witnessed the exchange. Too easy.

There aren't many people in the stands today. Part of it, you think, is the fact that surely, high school volleyball can't be that popular. Then again this is only the preliminary part of the Spring Tournament, and apparently, all the really big, fun matches are yet to come. Most of them won't be until the end of October.

Still, there are a few people who come to watch. Some fisherman type who, based on the exchange between him and someone else who's just joined the cheering section, is from the neighborhood and comes to support Karasuno. The other guy comes in with two kids who must be in early middle school at the absolute oldest. The kids⁴⁰ take an immediate interest in you and Yachi.

"Nee-san, why aren't the two of you also on the court?" one of them asks.

Yachi takes immediate offense. You pretend not to. "D-didn't you know that only one manager is allowed on the bench?"

The other kid peeks out at the court and spots Shimizu. "Ooh. Karasuno must be really cool to have three whole managers!"

Yachi flinches, her eyes darting to you. For a second, you think she's about to say something on your behalf. You would rather that she didn't, so you speak up. "More like, they create so much trouble that they need three whole people running around after them." You roll your eyes playfully. "But really, the redundancy is good. We make up for what the other can't do."

"[n-name]-chan…"

You grin, rest your arms on the railing and your chin on your arms. "Like, Yacchan here's better at talking to people, and creative stuff. I can do heavier lifting and throw troublemakers across the room as needed."

"A-and you're back on that again…" she sighs. She turns to talking with the kids—good for her. You don't know the first thing about all that, so you're happy to leave the job to her while waiting for the match to kick up.

And kick up it does—it seems to fly by. Asahi starts off by absolutely nailing the new serve, and you can't help the little swell of pride as the guys on Ohgi Minami's team seem completely shell-shocked by that alone. Wait until they get to actually play.

From what you've been able to gather, the boys aren't exactly unknown. You'd listened in with pride when, during set-up time, some guys from another school were gossiping about them. All, Kitagawa Daichi's Kageyama and Chidoriyama's Nishinoya, best libero when he was in middle school and they had Seijoh on the ropes at the Inter-high. (They'd immediately killed the intimidating vibes, courtesy of the usual culprits messing around, but it had been a nice moment to overhear.)

The intimidation is well-earned, it seems. That first point hadn't been a fluke—the boys are completely on-point today. Even without the new quick in action just yet, they pull through the first set—16 to 25, hardly even a contest. Not only that, but you're even more confident that these guys aren't fighters now—the way the captain just watched a ball go that he might've saved. This is more serious volleyball than the training camp, and your boys are taking it seriously, but…

You sigh. As fun as it is to watch them kick ass, they're a bit more fun when they have to push themselves.

For a moment, you think things will be different for the second set—someone on the other side yelling at the Ohgi Minami guys from the stands, and even their declaration of battle, imply that maybe they might get there. And maybe in that second set they do try harder, but so do your boys, and in the end, you get one really interesting rally to watch at the very end and, more importantly—

You're not sure if Yachi hugs you, or you hug her, but there you are, cheering as it sinks in that the boys have won the first official match. You feel a little bad about the other team, but not nearly bad enough to not smile with Yachi and then immediately tone it down before a certain someone sees you getting all excited.

You meet up with the boys in the hall, get your Noya-mandated hugs in, pass out drinks and light snacks to keep them fueled as they watch the match of whoever they're going to be playing next. It's one Kakugawa High School versus Nishida High School, and Kakugawa has a very tall guy, so obviously they're kicking ass. Apparently.

"Being that tall isn't even fair…" Tanaka breathes as he peeks in through the gym door. Behind you, Hinata's talking something about fusing with some random shark species? You don't know what he's on about.

"Is being that tall that big of a deal?" you wonder to Noya. "I mean, I know it's an advantage or whatever, but…"

"Aw, are you worried?" Noya teases. "It won't be easy, but watching him play… let's just say, I've got some ideas."

You tilt your head. "Like…?"

"Just watch, and keep giving me your luck." He flashes that usual smile.

You have no fucking clue what he's talking about, but sure.

Your headache builds over the course of the next match. The first set goes to Karasuno, much more balanced than before. Your cheering grows quieter—not because you're less excited, but because the longer you watch, the more your head hurts and the less you can keep up with anything. You're aware enough to know that you should have bothered Sensei for painkillers between matches, that you really should go outside and get some air. Aware enough to remember the moment of genuine worry at the beginning of the first set, and the cheer when the disaster duo broke out the new quick. That, and the horrific spike in pain at the crowd's reaction.

And they win. Of course they win—you of all people know how hard those boys worked. They've earned it.

Then comes packing up, a full spinning hug from Noya that leaves you dizzy in a bad way, and, when Noya and Tanaka offer to Shimizu to help carry the bags, your out to calm down and catch your breath somewhere quiet.

"I'm going to check and make sure no one's left anything behind," Shimizu says to you and Yachi.

You step up with your best smile. "Can I handle it? I need to run to the bathroom, anyway."

She arches a perfect brow. "Are you sure? I don't mind."

"Please? No one let me help carry anything. I wanna do one useful thing today." You smile sweetly, bat your lashes. And, of course, get your way.

"Alright. Meet us outside?"

You grin, nod enthusiastically. Rush off to where everyone had been camping out between matches today.

("Is she okay, do you think?" Shimizu asks when the coast is clear.

Yachi shakes her head. "She was getting really quiet towards the start of the last set. I think her head's acting up again."

Noya crosses his arms and watches you disappear.)

It takes all of two seconds to find a familiar bento box, even though you're purposely lingering now that you're out of the team's sight—Hinata's, wrapped up in some cutesy cloth you'd considered teasing him about earlier today—and confirm that nothing else is remaining. Then, you find a quiet place to sigh and try to regain your bearings.

You just gotta make it through the bus ride home, and then the walk home. You can tell Noya your dad's home, so then you can get alone and go right to bed to sleep off the headache…

Yeah, it's doable.

A deep breath. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes in hopes that the pressure will do something, anything to soothe the growing ache.

You'd never blame Hinata, but right now, you really wish you could be mad at someone for this. You're so fucking tired of the headaches, of not being able to make it through the day. When you get back to school, you—

A presence interrupts your spiral, and you drag your hand down your face to find that you're being cornered by two strangers—troublemaker types by the looks of it. The one who catches your eye and smiles, walks right up with all the confidence in the world, has an undercut and, when he speaks, you catch the flash of a silver tongue piercing in his mouth.

If your head wasn't starting to spin, he might be slightly attractive.

"Hey there," he says with a smooth tone. "You doing alright? Anything I can do to help out a pretty girl like you?"

"Leave me alone, for one thing," you reply. "I'm gonna be running late real soon, and—"

"Aw, come on, don't be like that. It doesn't have to take long, if I could just get your number we can talk after you catch up with whoever it is."

You sigh. "With my boyfriend?"

Somehow, he's not that fazed. "When you break up with him, then?"

"Excuse me?" You raise an eyebrow. God, if you were two percent less dizzy, you'd—

"Um!" comes the interruption of a very familiar shout, and then Hinata's sliding in between the two of you. "S-sorry, but [surname]-san's our manager and we really need to go, so!"

He grabs you, tugs you along. You struggle to keep up, stumble after him, but then he's literally throwing Hinata to the side, and oh hell no—

Your hand balls into a fist. You're about two seconds from actually decking this guy when Hinata full on leaps in the way (holy shit he could probably jump over you if he wanted) and completely distracts the guy, who goes on some complete other tangent that you don't have the energy to follow beyond thank fuck he stopped trying to get my number.

He leaves. You sigh.

"Thanks, Hinata. Sorry about that. You didn't get hurt when he pushed you, did you?"

He shakes his head. "I'm okay. You?"

"Just… head hurts. Probably good. Probably would have gotten arrested if my head didn't get in the way."

"A-arrested!? [surname]-san—"

You laugh, wave it off. "I get a little heated sometimes. He was pissing me off. I was a moment away from punching him, that's all."

"Well… okay…" He frowns.

"Seriously, though. Thank you for helping out. But, um, could you do me a favor and not mention what happened to any of the guys?"

"About your head?"

"No, about that guy hitting on me. You know what Noya-senpai's like. It'd be a whole thing and I just—can't handle things until the head clears up."

There's a beat where he registers the request, and then he nods. "No problem! I'll keep my mouth shut!"

"Great. Thanks. By the way—this's yours, right?" You wave the bento at him. "Cute cloth."

He flushes. "It's—uh—I borrowed it from my little sister!"

If you'd had more energy, you'd tease him properly. As it stands, you can barely muster the energy to drag yourself along beside him on the way back to the bus. There, you're greeted with twin I'm so glad you're safe!s from Noya and surprise guest Tanaka, loud enough to make you cringe and to make them sheepishly apologize.

Painkillers from Sensei, earplugs brought along, and resting your head on Noya—though you'd insisted he sit with one of the guys, since you didn't plan on being an interesting seatmate—delivers you most of the way home. Unlike the Tokyo trips, this drive is only about half an hour, so you don't even really get to fall asleep so much as space out for a little while. When you give up on trying to sleep, you take out one earplug and listen in on whatever conversation has your pillow moving disobediently beneath your head.

"You remember that I said I wouldn't help you with the summer homework⁴¹, right?" Ennoshita is saying.

Noya sighs in defeat. "Right…"

Hinata lets out a pained noise. "How long do we have to finish that, again…?"

"Like a week. You should be fine if you actually sit down and do it."

You whine. "Do you think they'll waive it for me? I haven't even looked at it."

"N-not even you, [surname]-san?"

"My head exploded. I have an excuse."

Yachi turns around from the seat in front of you. "I'm mostly done. Do you want to work on it together?"

You pick up your head, teary-eyed. "Y-Yacchan…"

"Yachi-san! [surname]-san! Do you guys wanna work on it together, too? Kageyama and I need help…" Hinata pipes up.

"We could host something," Noya offers. "You guys all wanna come over tomorrow?"

Suddenly, the conversation is off the rails—they're discussing logistics, hosting, whatever while you completely fail to keep up. One thing you manage, though—shooting off a text or two.

[name] to Rina-san at 16:53

[name]: hi rina-san! Sorry to bother you—Senpai's talking about maybe having like five people (including me) over for a couple hours tomorrow for a summer homework session and I think he forgot to run it by you lol. Is that alright? I was already planning on handling the snacks

Rina-san: that's perfectly fine with me. Thank you for asking! I'll text the girls and make sure they know

You slip Noya's phone out of his pocket just as it buzzes with a new notification.

Okaa-san to Nishinoyas at 16:57

Okaa-san: girls, yuu's gonna have some friends over tomorrow if there's no objections

Okaa-san: no one has any plans right??

Satsuki: why is yuu not telling us directly hmm

Okaa-san: [name]-chan was the one to let me know

Satsuki: say no more. Bring on the idiot friends + [name]-chan

Yuu: aw, be nice. They're all smart, they just don't worry about academics until it gets in the way of volleyball

Satsuki: DIFFERENT TYPING STYLE SPOTTED

Satsuki: IS THAT THE BONUS SISTER I SEE?

Yuu: I stole his phone again 💝 he's discussing plans with the others but my head hurts too much to keep up so I figured I'd worry about the other logistics. Like making sure he could actually invite a bunch of people over

Mei: hi [name]-chan! How were the matches?

Yuu: volleyboys did great. We're almost back at the school

Yuu: they'll be moving on to the next stage of the qualifiers at the end of october! 🎉

Kaede: CONGRATS YUU (whenever you give him his phone back)

Mei: 🎉

Satsuki: dammit now I have to wait at least a week before calling him a loser. Worst possible news 💔

Yuu: which means we now have to worry about summer homework. Which I haven't started bc in my defense, the concussion,

Yuu: we're hoping to study session our way to actually getting stuff done. Which means probably me and our other first-year manager corralling four boys who can only focus when volleyball is involved

Satsuki: oo the mythical third manager is coming? Is she cute?

Yuu: she's adorable. Full-on cute aggression is involved

Satsuki: 👀 gay?

Yuu: unclear. She hasn't really shown interest in anyone of any gender.

Yuu: but if noya-senpai wanted to protect ME from you then she definitely couldn't handle you, nee-san. She's too sweet, sorry 💔

Satsuki: 💔

"Oi, is that my phone?" Noya's voice cuts in suddenly.

You glance up with a grin. "If you couldn't feel me literally reach into your pocket to grab it, I think that's on you. Rina-san says it's okay to have people over tomorrow, though."

"Oh! Great! I totally forgot to ask."

A laugh. "I figured as much. Don't worry, Senpai, I got you. The girls hold no objections, either, but I'm getting the weird sense that Satsuki-nee's gonna pop in at some point, as a heads up. She's curious about the mythical bonus girl. Yacchan, you're coming, right?"

"Yeah! It sounds fun!"

"Cool cool, I've warned Satsuki."

"Um—warned?"

You laugh. "Don't worry about it. Nee-san's just a little forward."

"Oh, um, okay—wait, forward?"

"Again, don't worry about it!"

This does not seem to placate her as the bus turns into the school. Eventually, you have to give Noya his phone back, and on the walk home, you bicker over snack logistics in preparation for tomorrow. You just hope that your headache will calm enough to get something done tomorrow.

Chapter Text

25 - beat the deadline

The morning of the official-unofficial Summer Homework Party™ brings a shopping trip for snacks—Noya provides the labor and you provide your dad's debit card—and a hurried frenzy of a cleaning session to make everything ready for everyone to pile on in. Satsuki even pretends to help at one point during the half hour prep session, only to immediately sprint away with a pilfered bag of chips to answer the door. She returns with the first two arrivals—the disaster duo in action, both Hinata and Kageyama bickering breathlessly.

It isn't long after that that the other two arrive—first Yachi, nervously shifting and activating Satsuki (thankfully, easy to redirect) in the process, then Tanaka, a little late but at least prepared to focus. You kick off before Satsuki can lock in on poor Yachi too badly—Noya and Tanaka do their best to be Good Senpai and help out, but you gently redirect them to focusing on their own just-started homework, which they're clearly trying to avoid eye contact with.

It's actually sort of impressive how long they last. An hour and a half in, and on comes the fidgeting. After a pencil flips out of Tanaka's fingers and onto your notebook—he'd been trying, and failing, to twirl it properly—you sigh, push it back over, and flip your notebook shut. "Break time."

Hinata lets out a half-victorious groan, punctuated by his head hitting the table. "I think the concept of summer homework was invented to torture us…"

You nod with a soft laugh. "It's true. Ono-sensei actually told me she assigned all this English specifically out of spite towards you."

"I'd believe it. She hates me."

You poke at his face with the end of your pencil. "She's strict on everyone. Except me, because I've never done anything wrong in my life. Sorry. You guys wanna move around a bit on break to work off some energy?"

You don't need to elaborate at all. Within what must be seconds, all four boys are in the backyard with a volleyball. You hang out on the back porch with Yachi and a timer, watching in amusement.

"You can join them if you want, you know," you offer to her. "Noya-senpai and Tanaka-senpai were focusing a little better before finals if I got them to be active on breaks. It might not hurt you, either?"

She shakes her head. "No, that's okay! Besides, I think I might die if I tried to play any sort of volleyball with them…"

You laugh. "You wouldn't die. Kageyama-san might not be able to hold back, but I have on good authority that the other three will make him. And I think he's probably more understanding if you're a beginner. Probably."

An arm settles on your shoulder from behind. You turn to find Satsuki has joined the two of you on the porch. "Hi, [name]-chan. Please introduce me to the cute girl while Yuu's distracted."

"Oh!" Yachi says. "Hi! Sorry, um, sorry for the intrusion… Y-you're Nishinoya-san's older sister?"

Satsuki nods with a grin, extends her free hand lazily. "Nishinoya Satsuki, at your service. You're a first year like our dear [name]-chan, right?"

Yachi nods, takes her hand to shake. "I-I'm Yachi Hitoka. It's nice to meet you."

"Please. The pleasure's all mine." She quirks a charming Nishinoya smile. "[name]-chan said you wouldn't be able to handle me, but I just had to find out for myself. She was right, though—you are adorable."

Yachi squeaks, cheeks turning pink at the attention. "O-oh, I'm not really—"

"The little side ponytail?" Satsuki presses on, reaching up to twist it between two fingertips. "Adorable. Cute face, too. People must be raring to snatch you up. Right?"

It's sort of funny how easily you can see her brain bluescreening. "Nee-san, I told you." You gently pull Satsuki's hand away from Yachi. "She's skittish. You're coming on too strong."

"I-I'm—uh—no one really—sees me that way—but—I mean—a-are you—"

Satsuki tilts her head. "If you're single and interested, I could help you learn something new about yourself. You know what I mean?"

"S-something—um…"

"Nee-san," you chide. "She needs her brain. We're doing homework. I can't corral all four boys by myself. Please do not fry her."

She pouts. "Aw, but they're so cute when they blush…"

The timer on your phone begins to ring. You swipe it off. "And break's ending. Sorry, Nee-san. You're gonna have to find a different chew toy."

"Are you offering? I'm good at biting—"

You snort. "I'm sure you are. I also have homework to worry about, though. And Noya-senpai has made very clear that I am, regrettably, disallowed from it."

She sighs. "Fine. I'll lay off for now."

You cup your hands around your mouth. "Boys! It's back to the torture session!"

A chorus of groans meets you as Satsuki slinks away.

"I know, I know. I'm very mean. Come on, you can chase the ball more later. You're lucky that I even let you play on your breaks after Coach specifically ordered a rest day."

"Yes, ma'am…"

Yachi sighs and slumps against your shoulder. "I-is Nishinoya-san…"

"Who, Satsuki-nee?" you say as the boys walk up. "Sorry about her coming on so strong. She's gay and thinks you're cute. I did warn her that you were skittish, but I can make her stop if you're uncomfortable with the flirting."

"S-she's just—open about that?" Yachi squeaks.

You frown. "Is that… an issue?"

"N-no!" She squeals. "It's not—she's not—I-I don't—I don't want her to think it's a problem, I just—"

"I mean, I don't think she's gonna think you're homophobic or anything, if that's what you're worried about. More than likely, she's just gonna think you're a skittish little bunny who can't handle flirting. Which is true."

"Something happen?" Hinata asks as the six of you wander back inside.

You shake your head. "Not really. Satsuki-nee just met Yachi-san and got the actual chance to talk to her, so now poor Yacchan has to figure out how to handle flirting."

"F-flirting?" Hinata repeats. "Wait, is Nishinoya-san—"

"She's like, the most open lesbian at our school, yeah," Tanaka says. "I think she goes out of her way to make sure that's one of the first things anyone knows about her. No idea why she's so up front about it, but…"

"She just likes to fight," Noya snorts. "If she's out and open, she gets to lure in people to fistfight for a good reason."

You nod. "Word of advice, if it's a problem that she's gay, maybe don't mention that where it could get back to her."

"N-no," Hinata says quickly. "It's not a problem, it's just that she's so pretty that it caught me off guard."

Yachi nods. "I thought lesbians had to… you know, cut their hair short, a-and… I dunno. Wait, oh my god, have I been—" She goes stark pale in an instant, eyes wide. "—I've been totally stereotyping people like that, oh my god—"

"Oi," you interrupt. "Breathe. All it takes is a correction, right? The spiral's not gonna get you anywhere, and now you know better. Besides, could you imagine a butch Satsuki-nee?" You shudder. "She'd be, like, identical to Noya-senpai. Don't put that image into the world."

"R-right… sorry…"

You boop her nose purposefully before slumping back into your spot at the table. "No sorries. We've been over this."

"Right. I'm… not sorry?"

"Now you're getting it! Now, focus, all of you. We've got plenty of work still to do."

~

After everything, you do make good enough progress. You're nowhere near done, of course, though everyone else seems to be much closer than you—you're tired, your head's aching, and you spend much of your energy corralling the guys instead of working on your own homework. They're all mostly done by the pre-determined dispersion time, though, and Yachi is completely done, which leaves you halfway there and down on yourself.

Maybe that's why she texts, ten minutes after leaving, to the manager group chat.

Yachi to Karasuno Managers!!! at 17:12

Yachi: do you two maybe wanna do another summer homework session after practice before school starts back up, if you're not finished?

Shimizu: I wouldn't mind. How did today go with the guys?

[name]: they're all done but my head was too achey and I was too focused on helping them to get very far on my own homework

Shimizu: I'll help you tomorrow. Hitoka-chan, do you want me to also look over yours?

Yachi: ! That would be a huge help!

And then, before you go to bed that night:

Noya to [name] at 18:49

Noya: do you really think I look that much like satsuki?

[name]: practically identical twins. She's just slightly taller and less toned since she's not an athlete

Noya: interesting

Noya: [3 images attached. Image description: a series of random texts sent from your contact. Transcription:

[name]: too bad your sister's so hot

[name]: I can't really help it if she's gorgeous sorry <3

[name]: and how is the most beautiful person I've ever seen (satsuki) doing today?

End transcription.]

Noya: really interesting

[name]: …

[name]: I think you severely underestimate the power of a good pair of tits

Noya: oh believe me I KNOW the power of a good pair of tits but I would prefer not to think about any part of that phrase in relation to my actual sister

[name]: understandable

Noya: more importantly!

Noya: are you gonna think about the part where you think I look exactly like my sister who you keep insisting is hot

[name]: no thinking needed thanks

[name]: satsuki pretty

[name]: you look like you're like, brother and sister or something completely insane like that

[name]: no further conclusions may be drawn from these premises thank you for your time

Noya: 🤔

~

Shimizu's house is neat and clean and doesn't even require a thirty minute cleaning scramble when you come over after practice. She also doesn't actually live that far from you, which makes the walk pleasant exercise more than anything. The three of you pile in, sit around her dining table, and set right to work. It's nice to work together, nice to get that little bit of extra help. Over a few hours and a lot of teamwork, the end approaches and, as you deflate, the conversation turns from math and science to something a bit more interesting.

"So, Shimizu-senpai," you say, scribbling a slow, looping circle in the corner of your worksheet. "I was kinda wondering…"

"What is it?" She tilts her head.

"About Noya-senpai and Tanaka-senpai… why do you let 'em hover if you're not interested?"

Yachi lets out the tiniest squeak beside you, for some reason. You suspect it's something along the lines of having sensed something that almost approximates confrontation.

"Oh." Shimizu rests her chin in her hand, effortlessly pretty as always. "I guess I haven't really thought about it. It's not that I'm completely disinterested, and I don't mind the attention since they never cross any lines."

Something in you lurches at her words. "Not disinterested?" you choke out.

"Not in your boy, don't worry." She laughs. "Nishinoya's a little too short for my tastes. No offense."

"He's not my boy," you protest weakly. "Wait—pause—you what?"

Shimizu blushing is an extraordinary sight. "I'm maybe… a little interested in Tanaka?"

"Eh!?" Yachi leans forward in rapt interest. "R-really? But you're always so…"

She shrugs. "I just don't… I don't think it'll go anywhere."

You frown. "But… I mean, he obviously likes you."

"Does he?" She twirls her hair with a sigh. "He only ever talks about my looks. He's not that interested in me."

Oh.

"B-but that's…" Yachi says.

You sigh. "No, I get it. I'm sorry. I mean… you could maybe let him get to know you, though. He's a teenager and everything that comes with that, but he is a good guy."

"Well… I mean, what about you? You could have been going out with Nishinoya this whole time if you really wanted to."

You flinch. "T-that's… I mean, it's not that different. He… I mean…" You sigh. "He's amazing. I can tell him stuff I've never been able to talk about with anyone. He's so… so bright, and refreshing, and—I've never felt so safe around someone before."

"[surname]-chan…"

You rest your head on the table. "This is the scariest thing I've ever been through, and I have been through some serious shit. I don't know what to do with him."

"Why don't you just… ask him out? I'm sure it is a little scary, but you feel that way about him, and he's not exactly shy about how he feels about you."

"He's not shy about how he feels about you, either," you mutter. "Sorry. I don't mean—I don't hold it against you."

Shimizu's hand rests on your shoulder gently. "[name]-chan, I don't know how to explain this to you so you understand it completely, but I'm going to try. The way he acts towards you is completely different. He's actually normal towards me when it involves you. It's like you completely neutralize him. Do you have any idea how completely wild it is to see him being responsible and worrying over you after having known him for a year? I left him and Tanaka taking over my duties for one day when I got heat exhaustion and they somehow broke literally everything. I didn't know he was capable of actual responsibility. At the training camp, he came over to us at dinner to ask if we'd heard from you and acted entirely unaware that he was talking to a table full of girls because you were the only girl he was thinking about."

Your heart twists harshly. If he's serious about you, if you're different, then… "That's worse. That's so much worse."

"Why? What's so bad about him liking you?" Yachi asks.

"He's—he's so everything. I don't understand how girls aren't lining up for him. He's so sweet, and so kind, and so caring, and—and this feels different for me, too. My ex didn't make me feel like this." You chew your lip and your next words thoroughly. "What happens when he finds some prettier, better girl? There's a lot of those. I can't compete. I can't stand next to you, Shimizu-senpai."

"I don't think he really cares about that."

"He's a guy. And that aside, if he really, actually likes me, I'm gonna break his heart. He doesn't listen, you know. I keep telling him I will, and that he doesn't deserve that, but he won't leave."

"You sound… awfully sure," Yachi says.

"Because I know me." You grip your own forearm harshly. "I know what I'm like. I've lived in my mind my entire life, and I know what it does. I find little reasons to talk myself out of things, and I fixate on them, and I push 'em, and I have to test. It's obnoxious. Who wants to date someone who's constantly secretly making sure they aren't lying about everything? Who wants to be with someone who can't be vulnerable with them without wanting to throw up?"

Shimizu frowns. "Then just… don't test him like that?"

"It's not exactly a choice," you mutter. "Sometimes, it's like… like I'm not the one driving my body. I'm just sitting back watching someone else drive us, and I keep trying to give directions, but they're either not listening or they're doing the opposite of whatever I want just—just to spite me. I'm stuck watching everything go wrong until they're done and I'm back in the driver's seat, but then I'm farther and farther from where we were supposed to be going, or worse, I'm lost and don't know how to get back at all." Your hand grips your hair harshly. "And at some point, I'm gonna lose control like that again, and he's gonna be too close, and he's gonna get run over, and it's gonna be my fault, and—"

"[name]-chan. Breathe."

You shoot Shimizu a pathetic, wide-eyed look.

"He's stronger than that. He's not going to literally die because of this, you know? He'll be okay, and he'll probably even forgive you. I don't think he's the type to give up on you for one mistake."

Your mom did literally die, you want to tell her. You don't. "It's not gonna be just one. It's probably going to be something big, or a lot of things. And he shouldn't forgive me. I'll do it again, and again, and—"

"[surname]-chan, do you think all you are is the bad stuff?"

You pause. "Huh?"

"I-I just mean… it's probably really frustrating that you do that stuff, right? But the rest of the time, you're really cool, and really nice, and you care a lot about everyone and work really hard to help as much as you can, and you're super smart and you cook good and you're really responsible, and… I-I just think, everyone hurts someone eventually, right? Nishinoya-san probably isn't going to be completely perfect forever, either. N-not that I want to make any assumptions about him, or about you, or anything like that! I-I just…"

You huff a laugh. "Right. I get it. I… I don't know if I can bring myself to risk hurting him. But thank you. Both of you."

At least for now, you feel a little better. You doubt it'll stick, but you're alright enough to focus on finishing the last sheet of homework. Maybe even finish it.

Chapter Text

26 - catchall

The end of August—and summer vacation—hurtles towards you at breakneck speeds. Before you realize it, you're once again in uniform, sitting at a desk, and trying not to stare out of the window instead of paying attention to the teacher. It's harder to focus since you hit your head, you think. That, or you're just finding it hard to care.

It's this—and the dearth of notes in your English notebook—that leads you into classroom 1-4 as soon as lunch hits. First, a peek, a quick scan of the room for one of two potential saviors.

A guy near the door glances your way. "Need something…?" he asks.

You pause. Flash a smile. "Sorry, I'm looking for—ah! There he is! Please excuse me!"

You brush right past, make a beeline for where Yamaguchi and Tsukishima are talking.

"Tsukki-san! Yamaguchi-san!" you sing, holding up both your lunch and your notebook. "Can I ask a huge favor?"

Tsukishima sighs. "If it's about class notes—"

"Please? It's been really hard to focus since the whole concussion thing. You wouldn't make the poor concussed girl suffer without knowing what's going on, right? And Yachi-san's busy with her other friends, so I don't wanna bother her." You bat your eyelashes. "I can't pay you, but I can do some special drinks for the team or something next week. You like strawberries, right?"

"How did you even—"

You grin and point to the strawberry milk on his desk. "Observation. C'mon, please?"

"You can't get me to do things for you the way you do Nishinoya-san, you know."

"I know!" you chirp. "Why do you think I'm bribing you? I just have to emphasize the -senpai and he'll do whatever. You're not that easy."

He sighs. "Fine. Pull up a chair and stop the cutesy stuff. It's weird."

~

You spent the whole of lunch sitting with that Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, going over notes and eating. He'd tried not to stare, really, but—I mean, come on, really? He had to.

If you know those two, it's probably a club thing. You seem way too sweet to be friends with Tsukishima, of all people, unless forced to. And, well—

He crosses the room the second you leave, with two minutes before the bell. "Hey, Tsukishima."

The guy in question raises an eyebrow. "Do you need something?"

"So that girl who was here—"

"Not interested. Go ask someone else."

"But—"

"Dude, if you wanna talk to her, figure it out yourself. She's basically taken, anyway."

His heart falls, but only a little—

Basically taken isn't the same thing as taken. He'll need more information.

~

At Karasuno High School, you quickly learn a few important things to stay street-smart. It's not that things are dangerous, but, well, if you want information, asking around is always going to lead you to the same place.

That place, naturally, is classroom 3-4, in the fourth seat from the front, next to the window. She's built up a reputation—if she's not otherwise occupied, look for the girl with the bleached streak in her hair, usually eating some kind of lollipop. Bring tributes—information, if you can, but she also accepts money, candy, and—if you're a girl—hookups. Ask for Nishinoya Satsuki, and if you're an underclassman, you damn well better call her "senpai".

She likes to think it's her second-best talent, the first being too racy to advertise outside of specific circles. She knows who's single, who's open to fooling around, who's looking for a real relationship or a fling, who's gay, who's denying it. Crushes are obvious enough—the crushing and the crushed, and if she puts her mind to it, she can usually guess who the next crush will be on repeat customers. For a price, she can either tell you what she knows or walk right up and ask the right people.

It's not even hard. Most of the time, she just asks, which is something a solid 80% of the students at this school find completely impossible. She's not sure what's so mystifying about it—she gets a name and a year and the information she's supposed to look for, she walks around at lunch and starts asking until someone can tell her what she needs to know. Sometimes, she leverages a favor or a curiosity or two, but it's never much harder than that. With her reputation, she hardly needs to seek anyone out anymore. She flirts with the cute ones, she hangs out, and when someone comes looking for cupid, cupid provides.

She tries her best to be understanding, no matter what. She doesn't judge, doesn't ever say "you think you have a chance"? She's not like that. Everyone deserves someone, and she does her best to get the information for anyone, no matter the request. At worst, a "sorry honey, that one's gay". Being the premier Out Lesbian at school gets her access to about ninety percent of the Karasuno Gays by default, and after she broke a guy's wrist for outing one of the closeted ones, she got just about the other ten percent. Having an ear to the ground and a reputation for breaking bones and giving out black eyes keeps her good side attractive, too—she's ruined at least one person's dating life with a few well-placed bits of (true) information.

So she's understanding. Very understanding. She's never once laughed in someone's face at a request.

Before today.

She crosses her legs, leans back in her chair. Takes the lollipop out of her mouth and points it at the first year in front of her, who's just described someone around your height, your build, your hair and eye color, who's friends with some volleyball guys and recently had some issue with her head.

"Oh no, honey," she says to the fresh-faced first year who's made the trek to her floor for this. "I'm so sorry to tell you this, but that's Yuu's girl. Pick someone else, she's off-limits."

The kid has the audacity to look affronted. She sizes him up carefully. Athletic build. Obviously not a volleyball guy, or he'd know you already, and likely not close to any of the volleyball guys, or he'd have gone to them first. She'll have to do some recon. "I don't know who Yuu is. They're not together, though, right? Tsukishima said she was basically taken. Not taken taken."

Tsukishima. There's a thread. She'll ask Yuu which one Tsukishima is later. In the meantime, she raises a dangerous brow, lifts her chin. "Not taken yet."

"So, she's currently single," he presses. "Right?"

She drags her lollipop across her bottom lip as she thinks. Same year, not same class, or he'd have seen you before, and likely have seen you with Yuu. Probably the same class as this Tsukishima. He hadn't given his name or introduced himself properly. Smart enough to figure out to come to her, but not smart enough to figure out that he's coming to your Senpai's older sister.

"What'd you say your name was?"

"Doesn't matter. If she's really committed to him, it won't be a problem if I ask her out, right? She can just say no."

…so he has something he's hiding. Red flag, and not good enough for you.

"Well, Doesn't Matter-kun," she drawls, "you're looking at a path that's gonna end with a broken heart and a broken nose."

She pops her lollipop back in her mouth, crunches it under perfect teeth. Reaches into her pocket and begins unwrapping a second lollipop. "I have it on good authority that she's prepared to leave anyone for him if he just asks. You'd be better off just getting over her now."

"C'mon, just tell me her name."

She shrugs. "I have prices, you know. You were able to figure out to come to me and ask about her, surely you heard that I need tribute for information. You won't even give me the information of your name. You got a sister?"

"What?"

"Do you have. A sister."

"Not for you," he sneers.

She raises an eyebrow. "Okay, wow. Fine then. Import me something. Rare candy and I'll consider getting you any information on Yuu's girl."

"Rare… candy?" He seems thoroughly bewildered.

"I want something American. I'm getting bored of the current stash. Find me some good American candy you can't get at the little foreign section at the konbini and I'll get you her name."

"Fine," he sighs. "I'll be back, then."

~

Satsuki doesn't waste any time. That afternoon, she finds her way to the volleyball gym, waits by the door with arms crossed as volleyball boys file in. A few shoot her odd looks—the third years she recognizes from her class, Sawamura and Sugawara, seem to understand the reason for her being here. They were there during lunch, she thinks—Sawamura looks to one of the younger guys, a tall blond dude, and says something, and then he's heading over her way with a look of confusion. She loves it when she doesn't even have to ask.

"Hi," she says, extending a hand to shake with her best smile. "Are you Tsukishima?"

He shakes her hand awkwardly. "Uh, yeah. Can I help you…? Sawamura-san said you were here for me."

"I am," she confirms. "Nishinoya Satsuki, third year. I'm looking for information about someone, and he mentioned your name, so I think you might be able to help me out. You told a guy recently that our beloved [name]-chan was, in his words, basically taken."

He already looks irritated. "Yes. Was this a problem?"

"I wanna know what you know about him, that's all." She tilts her head, smiles sweetly. "You did the right thing, and I told him the same, but he wouldn't give any information about himself, and I need that information."

"I wouldn't tell him anything about her. I don't even know him. He just showed up after I helped her out with some notes and started trying to ask about her."

A new face appears beside Tsukishima—shorter guy, freckles, darker hair. "Who?"

"That guy who was asking about [surname]-san the other day," Tsukishima says.

"Oh! He's never really talked to us before, but he's on the baseball team. His name was… Ashita-san? Asuka-san? Something like that. He's in our class, 1-4."

She reaches forward, clasps the guy's hand with a charming smile. "You're a huge help. I'm gonna check out the baseball team. Thank you, um…"

"Yamaguchi," he replies.

"Thank you, Yamaguchi-kun."

She turns, prepares to leave. Runs right into—who else?—Yuu, walking with you. "Oh! Hi Yuu, hi [name]-chan! I was just leaving."

You raise an eyebrow. "Really? What's up?"

"Nothing. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it. Yuu, I'll update you later when I'm not on the hunt. See you!"

She tosses a little wave over her shoulder, redirects her path towards the baseball field. She's gonna go home today with more information if it kills her.

It takes a few minutes for baseball guys to show up. She catches sight of Mr. Doesn't Matter among the guys—baseball it is. Her instincts about him being an athlete were right on the money. She skims over the guys coming through—one or two she recognizes, one of whom is a Kirijo-kun who she's pretty sure owes her a favor she can collect on.

Yeah, she's gonna figure this out. Anything short of dropping a dossier on Yuu's lap would make her a failure of a big sister. And she can't let that happen, now can she?

~

Kirijo on the baseball team does, in fact, owe Satsuki a favor, and she collects—not just this Doesn't Matter guy's actual name, but, even better, just a bit more info than that. His sister's name and phone number and where to find her. She walks away with a spring in her step, tapping out a text message to the number she received.

Satsuki to Unknown at 16:04

Satsuki: hi! Is this asuka-chan in class 3-2?

Satsuki: this is nishinoya satsuki. I got your number from Kirijo-kun under duress

Unknown: this is her. What can I help you with?

Satsuki: are you free? I have some questions for you and can make it worth your while

Unknown: what did you have in mind?

~

The bag of candy is dropped on her desk five minutes after the start of lunch that Friday. It takes Satsuki a moment to scan the labeling properly—Ring Pops is emblazoned on the bag, lumpy with the candy inside. She tears it open, plucks out the first blue individually-wrapped candy she sees. It's a lollipop on a little plastic ring—cute. Packaging is in English, so it seems like he actually came through. She unwraps the candy, slips it on her finger to admire it. It's beautiful in the light through the window behind her.

"Impressive. So you can't give your name, but you can follow directions. What were you looking for from me, again?"

"That girl's name. The one you said was Yuu's girl. And these were expensive, so I want more than just that."

"Do you think you get to make demands of me, Asuka-kun?" She tilts her head sweetly, pops the ring pop into her mouth for an initial taste. The flavor's intense—blue raspberry, she thinks it's called—and blooms on her tongue pleasantly. "Ooh, good choice. I'm gonna have to find more of these."

"How'd you—I know I didn't tell you my name."

"Same way I find most information, dumbass." I fucked your sister, she wants to say, but Hitomi had quietly asked for no marks with an air of shame and a I'm still figuring this out, please don't tell anyone. So she won't tell anyone where the new mark on her neck came from. Not this time. "You're in 1-4, you're on the baseball team, you don't like to talk to people outside your little bubble of athletes. You've had three exes in the past year, the most recent being two months ago, and you have a type, which includes the girl you're asking me about. Honestly, I don't want you going after her, but she's the type to totally hate meddling, so I'll keep my end of the bargain since you did well and leave it at that. You're asking about [full name], and you don't seem to understand that you need to give me information in return for information."

"[full name]," he repeats, testing the name on his lips.

"She's a personal friend of mine. Set to come over for dinner with my family tonight, as it stands. To make myself clear, I won't be putting in a good word for you."

"What, did you talk to my exes?" he snorts.

"No, nothing like that, though I plan to. It's just, see, she's really close with my little brother and the rest of my family. I'm sort of banking on making her a Nishinoya one way or another, and I have no intention of seeing her get her heart broken by some random catcher with a mid batting average. But, you did go above and beyond with this pick, so I'll also tell you—she's a manager for the volleyball club. From what I can tell, she adores them, and the sense I'm getting is that they adore her right back. If you hurt her, that's…" She hums, counts on her fingers exaggeratedly. "Fourteen guys ready to kick your ass, plus me, plus the fact that she can kick your ass. You know, assuming you even get the chance. Don't say you weren't warned."

He shrugs. "I think I'll be alright."

She watches him turn and go. Asshole.

~

Satsuki to Yuu at 12:48

Satsuki: hey, so heads up

Satsuki: keep an eye out for any first year guys trying to get close to your girlfriend

Satsuki: had a guy on the baseball team asking about her. His family's got pretty decent money, he ran through three (!!!) girlfriends in the last year, and when I told him, verbatim, that she was your girl, he insisted that almost taken isn't taken so he's going after her anyway

Satsuki: also, his big sister is almost definitely gay and afraid of anyone in her family ever finding out, so there's that little red flag

Satsuki: damn good kisser too. Anyways.

Satsuki: I'll give you the full rundown later. Just wanted to warn you.

~

God, but Noya has been clingy the past day or two. You don't mind it, really—it's Noya, he does that—but you can't figure out why. It's almost a bit of a relief when you manage to convince the girls to let you go grab a package for the team. It's just some more powdered sports drink, so it shouldn't be too heavy, and you've been doing great lately. So great that you've been having to pretend you're not doing all that well to stay out of gym and be excused from Sports Day next month.

Besides, it's an easy task! Just head to the faculty office, tell them you're the volleyball team's manager, carry the box back. Easy. Super easy.

Problem 1: The box is a little bit heavier than you were prepared for.

Problem 2: There are three of them.

You're lucky the teacher doesn't recognize you as the girl whose head exploded. You walk slowly down the hall with cheeks puffed out and very nearly make it to the stairs before the top box slips.

You panic, reach for it frantically, and go through many several stages of grief in the moments before an unfamiliar hand swoops in and steadies the stack.

"Woah, careful there," someone says, and suddenly your three heavy boxes becomes one manageable box. "You alright?"

You blink, taking in the sight of the boy in front of you. "Uh, yeah. Thanks."

He smiles an easy, charming smile as you take him in. Brown, fluffy hair. He's tall enough that you have to look up to see his face, and the two heavy boxes that had been making your life hell balance easily in just one of his hands, forearm flexing under the weight. "Let me help you with those."

"I can handle them, but thank you," you reply curtly.

"I'm sure you can," he says with a tilt of his head. "I just thought I'd offer. Good luck with those."

He sets the boxes back on top of the one you're still carrying, and you wince under the weight. Honestly, if any of the guys figure out how heavy the load you're carrying actually is, you're never gonna hear the end of it.

"…okay, fine, maybe I do need a little help," you say as he begins to walk away. "Honestly, I shouldn't have gone alone to grab the boxes and I knew it, so…"

Immediately the load lightens again. The guy falls in step beside you as you descend the stairs. "Why not? Are you hurt?"

You laugh a little. "One of the guys on the volleyball team accidentally got me in the face with a spike last month. I ended up with a concussion that's still kind of kicking my ass."

He winces. "That's brutal. They can hit that hard?"

You nod emphatically. "I wish I could tell you I knew from experience, but I mean, he hit me hard enough that I don't actually remember getting hit. But I'm trying to get back to doing things and being useful, so I wanted to at least be able to grab a box by myself. Good thing they sent three of them, right?" You roll your eyes.

"Well, hey," he says as you round a corner, "we'll get you right up to the volleyball gym and I can give you the boxes back then so they think you did it all yourself. You looked like you were handling them pretty well before they started slipping, so I'm sure you can play it off. The stairs are the real enemy, anyway."

You laugh. "That might just work. Thanks."

"No problem. As payment, could I get your name?"

"Well, you're saving me from a lecture, so… oh, what the hell. [full name]. Nice to meet you."

"Asuka," he replies with that boyish grin. "Asuka Chouji."

Chapter Text

27 - the kids aren't alright

September is a nothing month.

It feels a little rude to the poor month, but it's true. School's just kicking back up, nothing's hard yet because they're trying to ease all of you into the semester, and, aside from one or two practice matches—the boys have apparently received a good few requests since the Qualifiers—nothing's really going on on the volleyball front. About the only thing of any interest is birthdays—Yachi's comes and goes with a little celebration amidst the girls and a barrage of texts from the Fukurodani Group Managers chat, Kaede's is next week—so you have plenty of extra time to just live.

You hate having plenty of extra time.

Yachi spends a lot of time with her class friends—they invite you along if you're already talking to her, but, well—

You see the strain in their smiles and back out every time. You're trying not to bother Noya too much, seeing as you're getting way too close and also you need to breathe. He's just been… extra clingy lately. Finding you immediately at the start of lunch, acting like every person who passes you in the hallway is trying to get under your skirt. Shit, he's even been waiting and ready the moment you get changed at the end of practice so that you don't have a single moment to yourself before you're walking home. The harder he tries, the more suspicious it feels, and so today, you've resorted to prepping a text under your desk to send him immediately the second lunch starts.

[name] to Noya at 12:40

[name]: need to study today

[name]: go enjoy your other friends, I REALLY need to focus

[name]: yes I will be actually mad if you ignore this

It seems to work, because you don't hear him yelling your name when you slip out into the hallway, and you don't get accosted on your way next door to find Tsukishima and Yamaguchi.

Just your luck, they're gone.

"Oh, [surname]-san," a familiar voice says just as you're about to sigh and find somewhere else on campus to hide for the rest of lunch. It's that Asuka guy from before. "Are you looking for that Tsukishima?"

You nod with a frown. "Guess he's busy today. I'll have to ask someone for help later."

"What's up? Maybe I could help out."

"It's not that big of a deal." You shake your head. "I've just been having issues focusing lately, so I was gonna ask to check his notes."

He immediately reaches for his bag. "C'mon, sit down. What class is this for?"

"Are you sure you don't mind? I can't bribe you like I do Tsukishima-san."

He laughs. "If I needed a bribe, I wouldn't be offering. It's not science, is it? I can't do science."

"Oh, no, it's English. Do you want my science notes in exchange? I feel bad if I'm not helping you out in return."

He finds a notebook, slides it across the table to you. "Here. Is it because of the concussion?"

You fall right into rhythm, offering your science notebook as payment while you copy notes. "I think I'm almost out of the weeds as far as my head goes, but mornings were rough for me before I died, so now they're extra rough."

"You must have science in the afternoons then; these notes are insane. You really think about all this stuff?" He taps at one of the things you've noted in the margins—some follow-up question you'd wanted to ask, plus an addition in different colored ink from when you'd actually asked the teacher the next day.

You shrug. "I just get curious, that's all. You're supposed to, like, make connections with the information learned in class. Do you not write down follow-up questions for later when they come up?"

"Listen, if I don't get it in class or from studying my notes later, it's not happening."

You snort. "And that's why you can't do science. How's your Japanese Lit grade?"

"Oi, science is the only subject I can't do, thank you very much!" he says in mock offense. "How's your English without the concussion, huh?"

"Perfect, thanks. I don't let my grades slip." You roll your eyes and focus on copying notes. By the end of lunch, you've slipped from general banter to more casual chatting—you learn that he's in the baseball club, that he's allegedly one of the better first years, and in return, he asks you a little about the volleyball club.

"Wait, so there's three of you managing for them?" He tilts his head, about to say something else before he's interrupted.

"Ah. [surname]-san. What're you doing here?" Tsukishima says from behind you. "You could have texted if you needed help with notes again."

"Didn't want to bother you," you reply immediately, relaxing a little. "I try to spread out my annoyance across as many people as possible."

"It's not that big of a bother," he grumbles.

Aw. Tsukki likes you.

"Anyway, lunch is almost over, so you might want to get out of here."

You glance at the clock and swear under your breath. "Totally right. Thanks!"

He heads off towards his desk—the other side of the room—and you pack up your things in a hurry. Asuka helps, and you rush out, waving him goodbye as you go.

Afterwards, opening up your science notebook to take notes in your next class, you find a new note in smudged pencil.

Annoy me for notes anytime!

-Asuka

~

The walk back to Noya's house is gloomy and overall pleasant. At least for you, rain liker that you are. Somehow, you've been roped into coming over for dinner at least once a week, and since it means you don't have to go home, you accepted with only the usual amount of guilt at accepting nice things, so tonight is dinner at Noya's.

"Oh, yeah," he says as you're rounding the street corner into your neighborhood, "when Okaa-san makes you pick a date for next week tonight, do yourself a favor and skip Wednesday."

"Why? What's Wednesday?"

He gives you a grave look. "Satsuki's back in the dinner rotation. She goes way overboard with seasoning. Trust me, until we get her to start putting about half the amount of salt in her food, you don't want it."

You nod grimly. "Understood." A pause, a thought. "Hey. Why aren't you in the dinnertime rotation, mister? You're making all the girls cook and you never help?"

"Me?" He shakes his head. "You don't want me in the kitchen. I wouldn't even know where to start. I do other chores instead. Also, practice."

"You need to know how to cook, Senpai. Even if you make up for it around the house now, you can't just starve or live on, like… convenience store bento."

"But if I got a beautiful wife who likes to cook for people…"

You deadpan. "I'm not cooking all the time. You're gonna learn how to like, at least boil rice and fry an egg. Maybe chop an onion."

He wrinkles his nose. "What if I don't like onions?"

"You don't like onions?"

"They're gross. The texture's just… bad."

"…okay, we're gonna table that. You're gonna have to learn at least basic "feeding yourself" skills, if not also "feeding other people" skills."

"Teach me, then," he shrugs.

"Fine. Come over tomorrow and I'll start teaching you how to cook, but you are gonna actually learn."

He does a little fist pump, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes as the pair of you enter his house.

The instinctive I'm home! passes both of your lips, only to be cut off almost immediately by the sight greeting you—Mei on the floor, head between her knees, horrible gasps leaving her lips that remind you too much of your worst nights.

The one with panic attacks, you remember suddenly as Noya drops his bag and rushes to her side. He barely remembers to kick off his shoes. You stand, frozen, unsure of what to do except make sure Soba doesn't slip out the front door.

Noya moves into action flawlessly—he's talking to her in a quiet voice, listening patiently as she hyperventilates, instructing you to go get her a glass of water. You do so silently, doing your best to be as invisible as possible for her sake.

"Should I come back another night?" you whisper to Noya.

"N-no!" Mei snaps. You flinch. "P-please, I—please—don't have to—"

"Okay," you reply slowly. "I'll stay."

And you stay. Soba comes up to greet you with a sniff of the hand, and then she curls right up against Mei while Noya helps her through the panic attack. When the hyperventilating has subsided and she's moved into just tears, Noya asks what happened.

"Ran into—ran into Okaa-san's ex husband," she says quietly.

You watch in real time as Noya's posture shifts—it's the same way he looks when he's glaring down some rando wanting to talk to you or Shimizu, protective and ready to kick someone's ass, and oh. It's like that.

"Did he say anything to you?"

She shakes her head. Noya guides her hand to rest on Soba's head, and she mindlessly begins to pet her. "I-I don't—I didn't—he might have? I don't really… when I realized it was him, I just—just ran. I left the basket in the aisle and everything, I—I don't know how I'm gonna make dinner tonight, we don't really have the ingredients—"

"I can go," you offer. "Do you have a list?"

"I couldn't ask you to—"

"You're not asking." You tilt your head. "I'm offering."

"But… I mean, [name]-chan, you're a guest. I can't…"

You offer a small smile. "Will you let me do something to pay you guys back for everything you've done for me? It seems like the least I could do after you've all been so kind."

Her lip quivers, and she pushes a nearby discarded pad of paper towards you, along with her wallet. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I only spent a month leeching off your hospitality. Senpai, you stay back with her, and I'll run to the store."

"You're not… gonna pry?"

You shrug. "I mean, Noya might deserve to know the story—I think he's mentioned before that he doesn't remember much—but I sure don't. I figure someone'll tell me when it's time."

Noya shoots you a torn look. "You don't have to go alone," he says.

You shake your head. "You should stay back with Nee-san. She needs someone right now."

He tugs you into a quick hug. "Be safe?"

"I'll be fine. It's not like this guy has any connection to me, and I've been making grocery trips alone for two years. Take care of her, okay?"

He nods, and you leave the siblings alone.

~

When you return with the requested groceries, Noya is sat in the living room and Mei is nowhere to be seen. There's more shoes in the genkan, so you have to assume that someone else has come home in the meantime. You head straight for the kitchen, calling out to Noya so he knows it's you.

"Welcome back," he replies, and his voice is scratchy and wrong.

You pause in the doorway, glancing over your shoulder at him. "Are you okay?"

"Can you teach me how to cook now?"

"Right now?"

He nods. "I need a distraction. Mei's with Soba and Kaede. I figured you were planning on sneak-making dinner while they were busy. You had that look earlier."

"I mean, you're right, and I don't mind, but… are you sure you're okay?"

He lets out a heavy sigh and joins you in the kitchen. Up close, his eyes are red, wet with tears. He's not okay.

What the fuck did Mei tell him? Just how bad is this asshole?

You set the groceries down. Noya doesn't seem willing to talk, and his hands are trembling. You're lost, so you search for a task to give him that won't require much difficult work. "Can you put the groceries away for me and I'll get started on dinner? I figure curry's easy enough for everyone."

Wordlessly, he starts sorting through the bags. You pick out a few spare things, go hunting in a kitchen that still isn't quite familiar enough to you to know instinctively things like where the knives and pots are. In your defense, you weren't doing much cooking while you were staying here—hardly anyone would let you if you'd tried.

"Does anyone have anything they can't eat?"

He shakes his head slowly.

Noya's not up for conversation and only seems to be half-listening as you try to instruct him. It doesn't take long for you to figure out that he's mostly just wanting you to fill the air, so fill it you do. You ramble about food safety, how to hold a knife, that time you almost set the kitchen on fire back when your mom was still alive. How he should always set out all the ingredients at the start so he knows he has everything he needs, how there's no shame in a recipe even if you don't need one for what you're currently making.

"We keep emergency cookie dough in the freezer," he interrupts as you're searching for something else to fill the air. "Do you think you could figure out how to bake those without instructions? Everyone else in the house just knows."

"Sure, I'll see what I can do. Can you get them out for me? What kind are they?"

"Chocolate chip," he mumbles as he moves towards the fridge.

"Oh, that's easy. Let's see…"

You set the oven temperature, lay out cookie dough on a sheet with him, explain all about pre-heating the oven and how you're mostly guessing on temperature and cook times in this case. He's really starting to worry you, but…

I mean, Noya's the one that comforts you. You don't know what to do here except give in to his requests.

You trail off, bounce against the counter a little. "…do you want me to stay tonight?"

A half-hearted nod. You can't fucking take it anymore.

You march right up and pull him into a tight hug. "Whatever happened, whatever Nee-san told you, I'm here for you, okay? Whenever, if ever, you feel like talking about it."

He's shaking as his hands come up to return the hug. It takes you too long to realize that he's trying not to cry, that he's failing as he drops his head into the crook of your neck. "I wanna kill him."

"Your father?"

"He's not my father," he corrects so swiftly and firmly that you know you've hit the nail on the head.

"Okay. I'm sorry." You let him hug you tight enough that your back cracks—under other circumstances, he might've laughed, you might've bantered, but, well…

The oven beeps. It's done preheating.

"Let's get those cookies in the oven, okay, Noya? And then I'm gonna work on getting everyone fed tonight, and then you and I can eat, maybe bring some food up to Mei-san if she's still not feeling great, and then we can get an early night. How does that sound?"

A weak nod. He releases you reluctantly, hand lingering on your hip as you step away to throw the cookies in the oven. When you're back at the counter to work on dinner, you feel his presence behind you, arms wrapping around your waist, and you let him hold you without acknowledgment.

"D'you want me to keep talking?"

He mumbles something into your shoulder. You get the message.

"Eight hundred sixty-one," you reply, "and tell me if there's anything else I can do to help."

The front door opens. You hear Rina's voice call out a greeting, and respond in kind.

She's in a good mood as she waltzes into the kitchen. "Just you tonight, [name]-chan? And what are you doing cooking? You're a guest, you shouldn't—"

"Mei ran into the asshole at the grocery store," Noya interrupts, not bothering to untangle from you. "She told me what he did."

You watch in real time as the color drains from Rina's face. "Everything?"

"I think so. There could always be more."

You swallow thickly. The air is suddenly oppressive to breathe. "I, um, I don't know the story aside from who 'the asshole' refers to, but I offered to help with dinner tonight so everyone eats something and picked up groceries. There's emergency cookies coming out of the oven soon."

"Thank you, [name]-chan. Yuu, I… I'm sorry. I should have been the one to tell you, but it was never the right time, and then it just…"

He shrugs. "Damage's done. Not like any of it was your fault."

"No, it was completely my fault," she replies immediately. "That man should never have been near any of you. I should have known—"

"If we keep talking about this right now," Noya interrupts, voice eerily quiet, "I'm gonna yell, and Mei's gonna have another panic attack, and I don't want [name]-san to see me acting like his son."

She deflates. Everyone is so wrong tonight—Rina deflating, Noya quiet and teary-eyed, Mei snapping at you.

"The curry should be ready in about fifteen minutes," you say in your best calm person voice. "If you want to go check on Mei-san, I think she's upstairs with Kaede-san."

"Does Satsuki know?" Noya interrupts before Rina leaves the room.

She pauses. Shakes her head. "I'll talk to both of you when she gets home. I think you both deserve an explanation from me."

~

Dinner and emergency cookies had both been independent, quiet affairs. You'd brought bowls up to Mei and Kaede, barely caught Satsuki to let her know to eat as much as she wants. Jii-chan's out doing whatever it is Jii-chan does, so you and Noya ate in silence. When he and Satsuki were done eating, you cleaned up and did your best to not listen in as the two were pulled into Rina's bedroom—you heard Satsuki yelling for sure, too muffled by the walls to pick up on much more than a very emphatic 'what the fuck!?'.

You really want to know what the fuck everyone's talking about. You do not ask.

Instead, you fuck around on your phone while Noya showers. You take your own shower after, shoot a text off to your father (staying at noya's tonight, they're having family issues) so he doesn't call the cops or something. Let Noya use you as a teddy bear for as long as he needs to, which is apparently every waking moment. You wish you could do more, but he seems impenetrable right now.

Falling asleep tonight doesn't feel like a comfort. It doesn't feel like a comfort at all.

Chapter Text

28 - the taste of his name

In a nutshell, there are two categories of information to this story:

1. things Nishinoya Yuu forgot
and
2. things no one ever told him

Now that he's been reminded, he can almost grasp shreds of memories in the first category. Pieced together with what Mei and Kaede told him, with what Mom confirmed for him, he has something like a narrative. It threads and sticks and congeals into something as he lays awake, your head on his chest. For the first time since your concussion, the weight suffocates him.

If he ever met his grandmother, he doesn't remember it. He was three, almost four, when she died. They'd traveled from Osaka for the funeral, Mom had stayed behind for a bit to help Jii-chan process things, and left them in their sperm donor's care for the month.

Yuu had broken his shoulder two days later.

Kaede had known the most, told him something vague about playing with Satsuki's dolls and that his dad his father his mother's ex the asshole hadn't liked it. It'd been a girly trait, and his one son was going to be a man. Mom had told him she'd been called about it, told that he'd hurt his arm but was going to be okay and he'd just fallen because it was hard to manage four rambunctious kids and not to worry, to stay in Miyagi with Jii-chan, he'd keep handling everything.

That had been two days alone with him, and as he's just found out, everything had only gotten worse from there.

~

The only thing Satsuki remembers from the time is there being one really bad day. It's normal, probably, to be a little afraid of your father—he's the source of money, he's the firm hand keeping everyone in line. Your father speaks in a loud voice and a harsh tone and makes sure that you're being raised right, which means girls do girly things like playing dolls and liking boys and boys do manly things like climbing trees and liking girls and no overlap ever shows. She'd written for some assignment in school years later, based on shreds of memory from when she was only four years old, that her dad had been loud and scary and hurt people, that this was why Kaede told her never to say that she had one.

It'd raised questions, ones that Mom had answered for the teachers but never for her. She guesses now that Yuu and Mei had been his favorites, and that's what saved her. The idea pisses her off—she wouldn't have been affected the way they were. She could have protected them, should have protected them. When she thinks of how Yuu always clung to her back then, how Mei grew up sad and distant and so, so scared, she gets even angrier.

Whenever she gets angry, Mom gets a call from the school and pretends not to. Kaede lectures her quietly soon after—don't make trouble for Mom, she's working so hard, you know?—and she usually has some outside justification prepared. Someone deserved it. The asshole who really deserves her rage never gets it, but self-defense or I was protecting someone weaker looks a lot better than Mei had a panic attack and I couldn't stop being angry for a week and needed to get it out of my system.

The memory of the really bad day—apparently, a really bad week, but it's all blurred together in her head—without the context of today, is mostly sounds—Yuu crying, Mei whimpering, Kaede screaming (don't touch her anymore she doesn't like it stop it). A smack of a hand against a face, Kaede sobbing. The sperm donor yelling, loud and firm and strict and everything Satsuki associates with being a father.

She's never quite lined it up with how kind Jii-chan is, to all of them and to Mom, but figures that he probably just doesn't need to be a father anymore now that his daughter has kids of her own.

She's sort of glad for it. The one thing that Satsuki is certain of is that she's never liked anyone else's father.

~

No one ever listened to Kaede. She tried telling teachers when bullying was taking place in her class, and no change. She tried telling the sperm donor that Mei didn't like the way he touched her, and he just told her to shut up. She even, once, tried telling a policeman that her sister didn't like it, and he'd politely but firmly told her that she was too old to be telling stories. Again and again and again.

This time, head screaming from the incident, she tries the doctors in the hospital. The sperm donor left—she had some sort of sick that made them say she needed to stay overnight—and left her with the doctors. She tells them that her papa hit her because she tried to stop him from doing weird stuff to Mei and that's how she got hurt, and that her papa hit her little brother too hard because he wasn't right in the head and something about him acting like a little faggot.

They'd laughed nervously, said she wasn't making a lot of sense and her memories were messed up. Her head was sick now, after all.

She'd asked to call her Mom, though, and they said yes to that.

Mom had picked up quickly, voice bored until Kaede told the right person for the first time.

Come home, she'd said, voice gritted through tears. Otoo-san hurt me an' Yuu. He keeps touching Mei. No one believes me but Mei doesn't like it.

Mom, at least, always knew how to listen to her.

~

Rina had thought the worst day of her life was when she got the call about her mom. A heart attack caused a fall caused a broken hip joint. Worse than that had come very quickly—by the time she'd rallied the family to come visit and made it there, she'd been in surgery for the hip, and by the time the kids had been settled, she'd been gone—some complication, something outside her personal expertise.

She felt too young to have a dead parent, too young to organize her funeral. Of course her husband and kids came, but standing there in all black in her childhood home and squaring her shoulders and trying her best to make her smile reach her eyes for all the guests' kindnesses at the wake made her feel like Yuu—quiet, scared, and tiny, too young for anything at all.

Every single one of those emotions paled in comparison to hearing Kaede's tiny, broken voice telling her to come home, telling her what had happened to her, to Mei, to Yuu. Was Satsuki involved? Were any of her kids safe?

She doesn't remember taking the train back, only that she barely remembered to bring her wallet for the ticket and that she spent the train ride racking up a phone bill by using all her data on legal research. She remembers what else Kaede had told her—that she was in the hospital tonight, that the doctors said she hit her head and it made her sick but that she didn't hit her head, her papa hit her head and that was what made her all sick.

She'd expected an argument with Yuuto when she came to take the kids, but he'd gone to work like everything was normal. Mei was at school, and Yuu and Satsuki were at daycare temporarily while she was in Miyagi with her dad. The house was empty, painfully empty, and in its void, Rina lashed out.

She packed as much as she could—a backpack and suitcase for each kid, a suitcase and the worn-out old diaper bag for her to carry. The laptop, her savings, any and all cash in the house she could find. Clothes for the kids and whatever toys she saw them play or sleep with the most often. Dad promised to have dinner ready for everyone when they got there.

She picked up Kaede from the hospital first. The poor girl was concussed, and would have a rough month to come and an even rougher time on the shinkansen, but there was no avoiding it. Her children were not spending another moment around that man. They talked for as long as Kaede could manage, her words stammery and halting, and then Rina searched the house for the best headphones she could find to block out any noise for her.

When Mei came home, another long talk. She confirmed what Kaede said, in much less but much clearer words. Told her that her papa had said it was her or one of the other girls, and she didn't want Satsuki or Kaede to get it, either, and it was okay, really. Told her much more, too, things she wouldn't repeat when finally, finally she told the youngest kids why they didn't have a father.

"We're going to go live with Jii-chan for a while," Rina told Mei.

"Do you want me to carry Nee-san's bags?" Mei asked.

Rina had smiled then. "You can carry Kaede's bags, and Satsuki and I will carry ours and Yuu's."

"Is Otoo-san coming?"

With bile in her throat, Rina kept up her smile. "No, honey. He has to work."

~

Mineo's convinced that the worst decision his daughter ever made was to get married.

She'd had a bright future ahead of her. Brilliant kid. Great marks in high school, great test results, was shaping up to become an equally brilliant attorney once she graduated. Next thing he knew, she was sitting down at the kitchen table with him and Mitsuru and telling them that she was pregnant, that she was marrying the father, that they'd agreed she would drop out of school to raise the baby.

And he loves his grandkids, he does. It's because he loves them that marrying that man was the worst decision his daughter could have made.

But he is Rina's father, and if Rina tells him I'm bringing the kids to stay with us and don't ever answer another phone call or door for Yuuto again, he's going to be a good father and say, I'll set up their bedrooms.

He knew this: that Yuu and Mei had been happy and bubbly once, and then they were quiet and scared. Rina had a shy phase when she was that small, but it had been just that—a phase—and Mei's had lasted two years already and showed no signs of stopping. When Rina arrived that night, overloaded with bags and with a teary-eyed, concussed Kaede on her hip, he could draw enough conclusions to drive a man to murder if he weren't so worried about who was going to care for his daughter and grandkids.

So they worked it out. Over late-night coffee, on the same dinner table with Rina half-carved into one of the legs (and a bloodstain from where she'd cut her hand on the knife halfway through), he listened to his daughter sob. He watched her pick herself up and watched her shift into her serious, focused one-and-a-half-years-of-law-school brain. They took the phone off the hook for the night, and Rina slept in the living room with three out of four kids. Mineo kept vigil over the fourth—Kaede, sleeping like the dead, waking up only to cry. He didn't blame her. She was going through the worst headache of her life.

He supported Rina as long as she needed. He made sure the kids were fed, he brought Yuu and Satsuki to the butcher shop with him so the house would be quiet while Rina stayed home with Kaede. They got both girls' schools transferred, and he brought Mei to school on her first day.

Rina broke away from the divorce without much more than full custody over the kids and the promise that if they ever spoke to that Yuuto again, it would be on their terms as grown adults and not a moment sooner. Yuuto got the house and the promise that Rina wouldn't go to the police or the courts over him molesting her daughter and abusing her other children, and he only got the latter because—only because—she already had, and had been summarily ignored. Something about her only evidence being a nod from a child unwilling to talk and the word of another child who wasn't in her right mind. (She had argued until she was impolitely and firmly told to leave. She had waited to cry until the kids fell asleep that night.)

He'd raised a strong daughter, but no parent is strong enough for the broken arm, the concussion, the untold mental damage. No parent is strong enough for the realization that your kids are shattered, that they might never be able to hear a raised voice without flinching, that they need more support than you can afford.

When Kaede was better, they brought Yuu and Satsuki to the shop with them and Mineo showed Rina the ropes. If nothing else, he was glad to have this time with her and have the house lively again. Glad to have someone to inherit the shop. Glad that, for a time, Yuuto wasn't coming anywhere near his daughter or his grandkids. He'd set his sights on the grandkids, on raising them up to be as healed as they could get.

~

When Sato Mei starts at a new school, she is quiet and meek and doesn't get along with anyone. She's introduced as Nishinoya Mei for reasons explained to her new teacher by Jii-chan using words like divorce and name change and explanations like should go through any day now and we don't want to confuse the other kids. No one had bothered to ask whether it confused her, but she wasn't talking much so she supposed that was fair.

The class is smaller than the one she'd been in back in Osaka, and Jii-chan had been the one to walk her here instead of Mom before rushing off to get the shop open for the day. Her classmates all know each other already, even though it's only been two weeks since school started, and what they know about her is that she's weird. They're curious, and they pry far too much, and Mei clenches her fists in her little frock and cries and doesn't answer a single question from the teacher or anyone.

Sato Mei is six, and her big sis is seven, and Kaede should be at school with her so they can whisper over lunchtime and Mei doesn't have to make any friends of her own, but Kaede is home with Mom with some new sickness called a concussion, which is apparently why everyone calls her Nishinoya-chan now instead of Sato. There's another Sato in her class, and every time someone addresses him she picks her head up or flinches away.

There is no one at this school with her on her side, but the teachers let her have her little stuffed cat after the first three days of mostly crying fits, and she hugs it and doesn't let go and when the mean girl in class tries to take it, she screams and screams and the teacher sternly tells the mean girl to never touch the cat again.

She tries to take Kaede's words to heart, mazed and thick with tears and a little lisped from where her cheek got cut. Be strong, Okaa-san needs us to be strong right now, and Mei really really tries.

The problem is, isn't it, that really really trying looks an awful lot like taking school seriously and doesn't look like making any friends, so when Kaede is better and gets to come to school with her, Mei glues right to her side at lunchtime over half thrown-together bento and helps her do her catchup homework and they forget to respond together when someone calls for a Nishinoya-chan and Mei never makes a friend of her own.

Okaa-san is sick, too, Nee-san tells her.

Because of Papa?

Don't call him that, she replies sternly, and because Mei is six and Kaede is seven and has been very sick because of him, she never calls him that again. Okaa-san says she's gonna make sure we don't have his name anymore an' he can't come near any of us again.

Because he touched me and made you sick?

Nee-san nods with a very serious look. And made Okaa-san sick, and hurt Yuu, and made Satsuki cry. Papas don't do that. He's not our Papa.

So Mei doesn't. She works hard at not making problems for Mom, and she takes care of Yuu and Satsuki when she comes home—Kaa-san and Jii-chan are busy with the shop and all these papers and stuff, and Yuu's arm is still in a cast so he needs a lot of help. She and Kaede learn to make rice, and over the months Mei learns how to use her hands to make the rice into the shapes she's learned at school. Kaede helps her with her counting—one cube, two cube, three triangle—and Kaa-san comes home to find all four Satou siblings piled on the floor, no onigiri left in sight, only stray grains of rice in the rice cooker, on the plates, on Yuu's cheek and Mei's fingertips, red and raw from handling the rice before it cooled.

Mei wakes up to her crying in Jii-chan’s arms, and she pretends to sleep as Mom sobs.

I don't know how to do this, Mom tells him. Otoo-san, I don't know how to take it all back and save them.

You can't. We just have to keep trying for them.

She takes it to heart. Walks into the library at school with Miss Kitty at hand and very seriously, very quietly asks the lady behind the counter if there are any books to learn to cook so she can help her Mom rest sometimes. There's four of us and I wanna help, she says, and the librarian buys it and sends her home with every age-appropriate cookbook the library has over the year. It's one of the first times she manages a complete conversation alone.

Balls of rice get salt, get fillings, get seaweed and chicken that Mei has boiled almost beyond edible. She gets better—on one of Kaa-san's good days, she teaches her how to cook the chicken without making it too dry, without taking it off too soon and making everyone sick.

The time crawls on. Mei learns how to make vegetables in the microwave, gets Yuu to eat his first broccoli on the same day that someone at school is talking about that weirdo Nishinoya-chan and for the first time Mei recognizes that means her. Lots of adults tell her lots of things about the man she's not supposed to call Papa anymore and she learns to be afraid of him, learns that if she ever sees him again, to run far and fast and tell someone where she saw him and avoid that place for as long as possible afterwards. Kaa-san's good days come more and more. Mei's nightmares don't go away.

She learns that other people don't cry like she does. Not as often or as vigorously, not with their whole bodies. Kaede learns how to help her so she doesn't cry as much, learns how to keep her away from the things that make her cry—a list that grows by the day and a task that grows more and more impossible. She spends a lot of time in libraries or with books, reads about far away places and really close places and things like mental health. Learns that she should paint so she cries with less of her body, bake so she can work her tears out into something people can love. None of the hobbies stick very well—they're things she does, not things she loves, and one of her books talks about depression in a way that feels like a portrait drawn of her without a reference.

When she brings home Soba, she picks them back up, tries harder. Sometimes, she cries only a little bit. Sometimes, she wants to cry but doesn't. Everything and everyone gets better, and she has learned that the thing in the world she should be most afraid of, more than dying, more than her family dying, more than cars or trains or poison gas or earthquakes, is Sato Yuuto, and the idea of ever, ever being alone with him again.

~

You wake up to something hard and painful dropping on your face, to the tune of Noya's panicked swearing.

"Sorry," he says. "Dropped my phone, I didn't mean to—shit—" He cuts off in a sniffle.

"It's okay," you whisper back. "Are you? Okay, I mean."

He sighs. Drops his phone beside the two of you. "I will be."

"Can I help?"

"I'll be alright, I just need—time, or something."

You sit up, stare into the darkness towards where you're pretty sure his face is. "I think you need a lot more than that."

"You don't have to force yourself. I don't even know how I'd—it's all so much, and I'm kind of feeling too much, and I'm trying to make sense of it and my head is swimming and I don't need to bother you with shit like that—"

"Noya," you interrupt. You reach out blindly to cup his face and find a shoulder. Your hand follows it up to cup his cheek. "Do you realize how completely amazing you are?"

"I'm not."

"You are. You're always looking after me. If there's even a chance I could be, like, one percent happier than I am at the moment, you always, always, always go out of your way to help. I swear, you've developed an extra sense just for taking care of me. You know how much it bugs me to accept things from people without doing anything for them in return? Can you let me make it up to you right now? Can you let me take care of you for once?"

You can actually feel his expression melt beneath your hand, the tension bleeding away just slightly. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

"I will, in fact, mind a lot if you don't let me help you."

He sits up with you. Crushes you in another tight hug. "You should marry me."

"You should keep asking."

A laugh, delirious and choked with tears. "You know how, no matter what I tell you, you're always telling me you're a bad person who's gonna fuck up and hurt me?"

"Yeah. That part where I'm warning you that I'm probably gonna break your heart no matter what my actual intention is and you keep hanging your hopes on me anyway?"

"I think I'm worse."

Your instinct is to refute. Instead, you let him pull you into his lap, search for the most comfortable way to cuddle up to him. His chin rests atop your head. "I'm gonna need evidence for that one."

He sighs. He tries to find the words, and fails. "Well, I… I guess I was right about my father. The whole scar thing. They wouldn't say what, exactly, he had to say about me, but apparently the asshole knew I wasn't a hundred percent straight way before I ever did and tried to fix it."

You gasp despite yourself. "By…"

"Broke my shoulder for touching a toy meant for a girl. I was, like, three or something."

"Noya, that's horrible. I'm sorry."

He laughs, bitter and low. "That's like, the least bad thing I heard about him today."

"There's worse?"

A slow nod. "Kaede's concussion. And… some other shit."

You suck in a breath. "I… can I hold you?"

"You're kinda holding me right now." He sounds wrung out, exhausted.

It's a feeling you know all too well, which only makes you more desperate to do something. "No, you're holding me and I'm reciprocating. Let me hold you."

He doesn't put up a fight. You crawl out of his lap, shuffle around with him until his head rests on your chest for once, until your fingers work through sparse little tangles in his hair and your arm rests on his waist. It's too intimate, too dangerous, but he needs this, you think, and you need to give it to him.

He lasts about two seconds in this position before his sigh breaks into a sob. "I'm too pissed off and I don't know how to stop it. I don't want to be him. I don't want to—to hurt anyone like he hurt Mei or Kaede. I've never been this scared of being angry before."

Mei. He hadn't even mentioned the story with her—worse than a broken arm on a three year old, a concussion on an older-than-that year old. Bad enough that a glimpse of him had her locked in her bedroom all evening. Bad enough that Noya will elaborate on getting his shoulder broken for being slightly effeminate before he'll elaborate on what happened to her.

"I don't think you should try to stop the anger, Noya. It's natural. You're supposed to feel emotions, even the shitty ones."

"I got pissed off when Mei told me how he—" He chokes on his words, has to squeeze his arms around you for a solid ten seconds before he can continue. "When Mei told me her part of the story, and I raised my voice, and she got so much more scared. She had another panic attack. I had to give her to Kaede because I can't help her through it when it's my fault."

"I think she was probably just sensitive because she was coming off the heels of another panic attack and had just told you about something that hurt her a lot." You stroke his hair gently as you search for the words. "It's okay if you're angry, Noya. The bad thing about emotions comes from what you do with them, not the emotions themselves. I don't think she blames you."

"One time, I almost decked Asahi-san," he mumbles. "I was yelling and I broke a broom and Asahi-san quit the team for like a month. And then I shoved the VP and broke a vase, and got suspended from club activities for a month."

As much as you want to hear that story, you'll withhold. You can't handle any more stories tonight, not even relatively lighthearted ones. "Azumane-san's clearly over it, and the vase had it coming. Mei got scared because she was already scared and her brain was searching for other potential dangers to protect itself from. Anger doesn't make you bad, it makes you a person, Noya."

"You haven't seen me when it's the only thing I can focus on. I don't want you to see me like that."

You sigh, scrape nails lightly against his scalp. "Those moments won't be forever."

"Long enough to do something stupid. Long enough to fuck up and scare Mei and hurt you."

You sigh. Nuzzle the top of his head. His hair is soft and still a little damp from his earlier shower and smells far, far too nice. "I think you and I have the exact same fear in opposite directions. I don't know exactly what to say to you because nothing has ever or probably will ever make that go away. I think all you can do is live with it and learn to handle the anger."

"Will you still marry me if the man who fathered me is a rancid piece of shit?"

"As far as I'm concerned, you have an amazing mom who loves you a lot and I've never met a father. I'm happy to leave it at that."

"I'm named after him, too. His name was Yuuto. Okaa-san got us out as soon as she found out about everything, and when the divorce went through we got a name change. I think she should've changed my first name. I was young enough that I never would've known."

"I get it," you sigh. "I do like your name, though. It's nice."

"If anyone other than you or my family calls me that, I might deck them. You're allowed if you want, though."

No way in hell are you calling him that—you don't have the strength—but you're also not up for shutting him down right now. "Mm, but I also like calling you Noya."

"I was a Sato for a while."

"Okay, yeah, that's a definite improvement. You're a Nishinoya through and through. I don't think I'd ever be able to call you Sato-senpai with a straight face."

He lets out a disgusted noise. "Never say that again."

"Sorry."

"Don't be." He pauses. Sighs. "I'm glad you're here. Thanks for everything today. I'll make it up to you."

"Don't you dare. I have a whole month of concussion care to collect on, and one night of moral support doesn't even begin to make up for that and all the emotional turmoil you've helped me through."

"All that's just like, basic human decency."

"So's this. How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted."

"Exhausted and sleepy, or are you gonna attack me with your phone again?"

"Exhausted and sleepy," he nods.

"Then, let's get some sleep. I would get it if you skipped practice tomorrow, but—"

"No. We're not gonna beat Shiratorizawa by me skipping practice over my emotional shit."

"Just… let yourself feel it, okay?"

"Let's start with sleeping," he replies, yawning. "Are you still okay with this?"

"It's fine if it's helping you."

"It is," he murmurs. You pretend not to notice his face squishing a little further into your chest. "You gotta marry me."

"Get some sleep, and we'll look at that quota in the morning."

"'Kay. G'night."

"Goodnight, Senpai."

Chapter Text

29 - suffocate

You are the one who wakes up first.

It feels… wrong, to be the one blinking into the morning light and getting your bearings. You're too used to waking up to an uncooperative pillow that insists on shaking you until you set it free (and, ideally, get up with it). Otherwise, waking up to Noya already moving around the room, getting ready for the day like he's never experienced sleep inertia before. Towards the end of your little concussion vacation, you'd pretend to sleep until he decided to commit the ultimate violence by way of opening all the curtains and shaking you until you got up.

You wish this was one of those mornings. You'd take the too-bright sun and all the annoyance any day over seeing him like this.

Even in his sleep, he looks exhausted. You'd bet money that he's barely gotten a few hours, even with your attempts to comfort him, and you have the sinking feeling that, had you not stayed, he might not have slept at all.

You brush his hair out of his face, try to untangle without waking him. He mumbles a protest, clings to you tighter.

"I gotta pee," you whisper back. "Lemme go."

He lets you go wordlessly, turns over to lay with his back to you.

He looks deeply lonely.

"Noya. How much does Soba eat?"

"Give ‘er a can," he mumbles. "She's been working hard."

"Okay. I'll make sure you wake up in time for practice today."

You slip out and pad down the stairs, where Soba joins you with a starved meow.

Last night's conversation weighs heavy on your mind—you're allowed to use my first name if you want. Like you're that close. Like it'd be normal. You don't discount that he's obviously not doing well right now, but… I mean, come on. You'd need practice before you could ever get to that point.

Maybe that's why you greet Soba the way you do: "Hey, baby. Can you show me where Yuu keeps your food?"

Immediately, your face burns something awful. Sure, you've gotten used to sleeping in his clothes, in his futon, in his arms, but his name tastes different in your mouth.

You've got to back away from him. Right now he needs you to stay close. The two needs scrape against each other inside you, and instead, you focus on the more pressing matter: feeding the cat.

Soba winds between your legs, nearly tripping you as you walk. At the foot of the stairs is Satsuki, looking like the living dead as she stares you and Soba down.

"You spent the night," she notes.

"I was worried about Noya-senpai," you admit. "He… didn't seem like he could handle being alone last night."

"Noya-senpai, huh." She takes a slow sip of her mug. "Pretty sure that's not the name I heard just now."

You have the grace, at least, to not faceplant when you miss the last step, and the excuse prepared of a certain someone walking between your legs as you descended if she calls it out. "I'm the only one in the house who calls him Noya," you explain, keeping your voice even. "Soba doesn't know who I mean if I don't say his first name."

She lets out a heavy sigh. "I don't have the energy to tease you until I finish this bullshit. Come on, I'll show you where we keep her food."

"Should I ask what's in the mug?"

"You can ask, but I'm not gonna answer until you try a sip."

You reach for the mug. She lets you take it without complaint. One sip makes you flinch and gag. You almost fling it in retaliation—it's some concoction, more than a beverage. It tastes medicinal in the worst way. "What the fuck is that? Holy fuck, that's disgusting."

"Made coffee, but I poured Monster energy⁴⁴ into the coffee maker instead of water. That was like, four hours ago, so now it's totally cold and somehow tastes even worse."

"Okay, follow up—why?"

A shrug. "Same reason you felt compelled to sleep in Yuu's bed last night. Shit sucks." She pauses in front of one of the cabinets, twists the key in the conspicuous lock to open it. "We have to keep the cabinet door locked because Soba figured out she can bite through metal to get some of the juice out of the wet food. Somehow, she hasn't figured out how to bite through kibble bags, but I think it's just because she doesn't like it as much."

"Do you want a real breakfast? Like, something that isn't a mug of toxic waste?" you ask as you reach past her for a can of cat food. "I was gonna make something for Senpai once he was up so he'll actually eat before practice. I'm gonna try to make him stay home, but I don't think he's gonna go for it."

"Might as well. Honestly, I'm starting to see things, so I could probably stand putting something into my body that isn't straight poison."

"Oh my god, sit down. I'll make you something."

"I don't take orders, babygirl," she replies. "Happy to give ‘em out, though." At your flat look, she sighs and slumps into a seat at the kitchen table. "…sorry. That usually works on pretty girls."

"Don't get down on yourself. It would have worked in another life." Soba accepts the food you proffer with an ongoing purr.

"Never did get a straight answer from you on that. You're strangely immune to flirting. Are you just a really secure straight girl, or…"

"Nah, I like girls, too." You shrug. "And I'm not really immune or anything like that. It's just kinda… harder to feel flustered than it used to be? That, and I know you're just messing around. Stuff like that hits different when the person really means it."

"Oh, is that your game? You convince yourself that your pursuer doesn't mean it so you don't have to think about it?"

You roll your eyes and move to the fridge. "Your game appears to be flirting so you don't have to think about other shit, so I'm not sure you have much room to judge, Nee-san."

She lets out a low whistle. "Yeah, you got me there."

She watches you work for a little bit before she speaks again. "So you know you're bi. Ever been with a girl? Out of curiosity, not flirting."

You shrug. "Kinda-sorta, not really. I dated a girl for a while back in middle school, but we never went all that far. Made out a lot, though."

"Ooh, mystery ex girlfriend. Mind if I ask how it happened? Someone else's misery would be lovely right now."

You let out a startled snort of laughter. "I guess I don't mind. She blew up because I decided to go to a different high school from her, and we both stopped talking after that."

She raises an eyebrow. "There's… a lot missing from that story. Why'd you come to Karasuno instead?"

A shrug. "We had a whole plan to go to this school and dorm together even though we were close enough that we didn't really need to board. Y'know, so we could, uh, focus on our studies, but I was too distant and made her cheat on me and then my issues and bisexuality got my mom killed in front of me and I didn't really feel too good leaving my dad alone while I went to bang my disloyal girlfriend every night for three years."

"Wait, back up—there's so much wrong with what you just said and I'm running on negative sleep and the combination is making it really hard to figure out where to start unpacking that. Uh, sorry about your mom? I'm not sure it was your fault, necessarily, but—"

You turn, slide a plate across the table to her and take her mug of poison as penance. "I'm not asking you to unpack it. Eat your breakfast."

She stares down at what you've thrown together—a fried egg, toast, some crushed-up tomato. It's nothing particularly special, but she seems thrown off by it. Probably just from the trauma dump and poison combo, but, well, she asked.

"Holy shit, that's fancy."

"It's toast."

"It's fancy toast."

You roll your eyes and raise the mug to your lips. The foreboding scent greets your nose, and you nearly gag a little at the reminder.

It doesn't stop you from chugging the rest of it.

"Ugh. Don't ever make this again. I think I can feel my blood vibrating already. I'm gonna go wake up Noya-senpai; pretty sure he's gonna insist on going to school today, but I'm gonna try to convince him to stay home."

She protests after you, but you slip away and up the stairs all the same. Noya is laying in the same spot, the same position. You sigh and come to rest on your knees beside him, laying a gentle hand on his arm. "You should stay home from school today."

"No."

So he is awake. "No one would blame you for taking some time after everything yesterday, Noya."

"I'm not skipping," he snaps. You flinch away, and he turns to look as you do. "Shit, sorry, I—I'm sorry."

"I made breakfast," you say slowly. "Even if you're not hungry, you should come downstairs and eat. Since you're so insistent on going to practice today, it won't do you any good to practice on an empty stomach."

"I really am sorry," he says weakly.

"Noya." You reach out, place a hand on his cheek. "It's okay. I'll forgive you if you get up and come eat breakfast before it gets cold or Satsuki-nee steals it."

"Satsuki's awake? There's no way."

"Satsuki-nee has not slept. She made some absolutely disgusting concoction that I'm pretty sure is currently turning my blood into motor oil? But I'm not sure. If I pass out at practice, please assume it was the poison that killed me."

He sighs, stands, and offers you a hand to help you up. "You didn't need to make breakfast."

"You needed to eat," you shrug.

"Thank you. Please marry me."

"Ask me another eight hundred fifty-eight times and I will."

Over breakfast, he compliments you sincerely but with half his usual enthusiasm, and you finish up prepping some low-effort, low-time lunches while he's spiking his hair up on your reminder. (You wouldn't have complained if he'd left it down, and normally he'd be able to endure the teasing, but, well… not today.)

On the walk to school, he is quiet. He carries your bag for you without offering, barely talks. You wish he'd stay home. You wish he'd relax a little.

Maybe it'll be good for him. He relaxes when he plays volleyball. You can always try to keep him from pushing too hard if he overdoes it. The distraction will be good for him.

Then you get to school, then practice, then you watch him shift into a completely different person, and your heart cracks audibly at the sight.

He's… eerily good at pretending to be fine. If you weren't aware of the night he had, if you hadn't held him while he cried, you wouldn't have noticed any difference. He's maybe just a touch less loud, his smile doesn't seem to quite reach his eyes, and there's moments where he might've normally said something stupid for you to pretend not to find funny, but no one else seems to suspect a thing. In practice, he's as intense as usual, if not more so. Yachi cringes as she watches him throw himself for a receive—everyone's always so intense!—and so do you, but for a completely different reason.

"You're staring at Nishinoya a lot today," Shimizu notes while you space out. "Did something happen?"

"Oh, no, I just…" You sigh. "My head's in a weird place today. Honestly, I drank straight poison this morning on a dare and I think it's turned my brain off?"

"Poison?"

"Nee-san brewed coffee with Monster energy instead of water. I can still taste it in my eyes."

She stares at you in muted horror. "Are you… okay?"

"When I space out, I can feel my teeth in my legs."

The explanation proves an effective diversion, although it does have both girls watching you more closely. You'll have to stop staring at Noya and focus on something else, however worried you may be.

Good luck with that.

~

At lunch, first thing:

[name] to Noya at 12:40

[name]: I know you're pretending everything's okay today but do you want an escape so you can stop pretending for a little bit

[name]: I can give you an extremely understandable one that no one will question the validity of before you suffocate

Noya: yes please (marry me)

Noya: would you be totally mad if I stole some of your lunch also

Noya: I uh. Forgot to make or bring one today

You roll your eyes. You'd packed two bentos this morning—nothing fancy, but food, at least, that would nourish him enough to survive the day without falling out or starving to death. Both of them travel with you to the second years' floor and Noya's classroom in particular, where he's hanging out with the other second year guys. None of them notice your entry until you're knocking a bento gently into the side of Noya's head.

"Hi," you greet the others with a nod. "Eight fifty-seven, Noya-senpai."

"Oh, [surname]-chan. You don't usually come to visit us. What's up?" Ennoshita says.

"Noya-senpai seems to have spent the past twenty-four hours gloating to me about winning a bet and then immediately forgotten that he won said bet. I've come to make sure he eats and hope he's also forgotten about the rest of the wager."

Noya snatches the bento from you with wide eyes. "Lunch date?"

"Not a date. But yes. But hey, since you're already—"

"No, don't even finish that sentence, we’re going to the roof. Sorry guys, I forgot I had a date—"

"—not a date—"

"—with [name]-san lined up, so I will be—"

"Yeah, yeah, get out of here," Ennoshita cuts him off. "[surname]-chan, you can always hit him if you need to."

You snort. "Thanks. Sorry for stealing him."

"Do we get to ask about the bet?" Tanaka says.

You pat his shoulder with a wry little smile. "Do yourself a favor and don't ask questions you're not prepared to know the answer to."

That earns you a few wide-eyed looks along with the realization that you're definitely implying something you hadn't meant to, but, oh well, innuendo's out of the, uh… closet, or something. You can always damage control later, or else simply refuse to ever elaborate and threaten to add more to Noya's quota if he elaborates. Just for a little fun.

When you're out in the hallway with him, he flashes you a grin that actually looks genuine. "Your lie to orchestrate my escape was saying we had a date?"

"Uh, no, your lie to corroborate mine was that we had a date. Losing a bet isn't romantic, and you should consider yourself lucky that I was willing to debase myself by pretending to have lost to anyone."

"I can think of a pretty big bet you're gonna lose, actually," he replies.

You scoff. "It's hardly a bet. We never even properly outlined it."

"Well, we've got a date, and talking about our wedding is lifting my mood, so let's outline it so I can win that bet, too. I can be a gambling man."

"I'm sure you can, Casanova."

It's a gloomy day, the impending threat of rain having chased most people off the roof. Absolutely perfect, in all honesty. You and Noya find the comfiest corner of the roof to curl up in and, finally away from the potential eyes of anyone he knows, the exterior he's been keeping up all morning cracks a little.

"Thank you. Really. Usually I like hanging out with everyone, but today everything just seems so…"

You nod. "I get it. Not fully, but I do get it."

"Did you seriously make me lunch?"

"Yes, and don't read into it. I had a strong feeling it would be necessary after the night you had, and I was right."

He smiles a dopey smile. "Beautiful girl making lunch for me… what did I do to get so lucky?"

A snort. "Luck's got nothing to do with it. Like I said last night, you're always taking care of me. Least I can do is make sure you eat. How're you doing? I noticed you're like, concerningly good at pretending to be okay."

"Oh, that." He shrugs. "I'm kinda used to acting all keyed-up around everyone. It's hard to turn off, honestly. Makes it easier on days like these."

"Okay, but how are you doing?"

"Will you hit me if I say better now that you're here?"

"I'd like a direct answer, if you can manage that."

He deflates a little further. "I honestly don't think I remember a single thing from any of my classes this morning, and Chikara says he's not letting me copy notes from classes I was in anymore unless I show I'm really trying."

"I'll get them for you. Right now, you just focus on eating and recovering, okay?"

He nods, unwraps the bento you made. It's completely standard—he shoots you a disappointed look. "You could've made it all cute with hearts and stuff."

"When have I ever done something cute?"

"Like, every day. I hear you talking to Soba like she's people and kissing her head all the time."

"Senpai, Soba is a cat. She deserves little kisses on her little head. It would be a crime not to give that to her."

He smiles, smug and fond all at once. "Well, it's still adorable behavior, and maybe I deserve little heart shapes in my bento."

"I'm about two quips away from crushing those spikes of yours, Senpai."

"Oh?" He raises his eyebrows. "Are you? You know if I come back from our private little rooftop date with my hair messed up, the guys are gonna think we were making out?"

Your cheeks flare. "I hate you."

"No you don't."

"Let's just hammer out this bet thing," you grumble.

"Right," he says, pausing to get a mouthful of the food you've made. "Oh my god, this is good. Does food just taste better when a pretty girl makes it?"

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, sure, if that explains things for you."

"Sho whaddid you wanna figure out to make the bet—" He pauses, swallows a mouthful of food. "—official?"

"I mean, I gave you a challenge and at some point we started saying it was a bet, but I don't get anything out of it if I win, right?"

He hums thoughtfully. "Well, if I win, you'll marry me, right?"

You nod.

"So if you win, then I'll have to marry you. Easy."

A laugh startles from your throat. "Uh-huh. That's a materially different outcome. I'll think of something for if you give up. I'll say this, because I think I only said this to Satsuki-nee and Mei-san? But my end of it holds no matter what. If you hit a thousand at any point, even if I'm with someone, I'll break up with 'em and uphold my end."

"Aw, you like me that much?"

"Focus, Casanova."

He nods, swallows another concerningly large mouthful of rice. "You plan on dating while this is happening?"

"I mean, not really, but we're also not like… together. We're both still on the market right now, technically."

"You wouldn't get pissed off at me for continuing to propose to you while you're in a relationship with someone else?"

"Why would I? We're just friends until something happens to change that. I do think that there should probably be an official give-up option for you. I mean, otherwise, you can just pick it back up later. I guess probably just that you have to outright say if you're giving up?"

The door to the rooftop opens. Your eyes dart towards the noise mostly on instinct and land on the new arrival.

Oh. Asuka.

"Hey, there you are, [surname]-san!" he says, waving when he spots you. "I was looking for you. Am I interrupting?"

"Not really," you say at the same time that Noya says, "yes". You shoot him a Look™ before turning back to Asuka. "What's up, Asuka-san?"

"Can I get some pictures of your notes from Saturday? I had some questions about the content, and… basically, I could just use your help if you've got time."

You wince a little. "I, uh, left my bag in the classroom, sorry. I could help you out tomorrow?"

"I've got science in the mornings, though, and you know how the teacher is for that class… she said something about there being a quiz for our class tomorrow and I really don't want to do a bad job. Can't you come help me out real quick?"

You glance to Noya. Bat his arm gently when you realize he's glaring down Asuka. "Stop that," you whisper. He only drops the expression slightly, but at least it's an improvement. Still, you're not leaving him to eat alone right now. "I'm sorry, Asuka-san, but it is actually not the best time for more than a quick question. You can ask me any particular questions you have now, or I could help you out before practice."

For just a moment, you swear a storm crosses his face, but in the next moment, it's gone, replaced with a boyish smile. "Right. Sorry to bother you. I'll come find you after school lets out?"

"Sure, I can work with that. Do you mind if I hang out here for lunch?" He moves to sit with you and Noya, but Noya is not having that. He shoots his leg out, just a bit too far to be taken as anything other than an intentional no the hell you don't. His foot rests just where Asuka was about to sit.

"She's busy right now. She just told you to talk to her later."

Asuka smiles back, unbothered. "Oh, are you her boyfriend? Last I checked, she didn't have one."

You blink. "You checked?"

"Never mind that. I can tell I'm not really welcome here, so I'll catch you later, [surname]-san. Sorry to bother you."

Asuka leaves. As his back retreats behind the rooftop door, your jaw drops, and you hit Noya again, slightly harder this time. "What was that?"

He's unabashed. "He was interrupting. You're with me for lunch today. And who was that guy?"

"That was Asuka-san. He's a friend, you ass. Could you maybe not chase my friends off?"

His gaze hardens at the name. "Asuka? Satsuki told me a little about him. He's bad news."

"What, were you keeping tabs?"

He shrugs. "She's sleeping with his sister right now, 'sall. She has a whole information broker thing going, anyway. Keep your distance, alright?"

"From who?" You roll your eyes, the anger ticking up. "From the guy who just wanted some science notes, or from the one who's apparently secretly gathering information on my friends and chasing them off if they dare to talk to me?"

He flinches. "I just—"

"You're overstepping, Noya. I know you're going through some shit right now, and I can shut him down myself if I need to, but you're also going too far. Stop."

He falls quiet. He doesn't apologize. The two of you stew in uncomfortable silence for the rest of lunch.

Chapter Text

30 - standoff

Asuka makes you wait.

You hang out in the classroom for five minutes, the hallway for another ten. You're starting to think he might have forgotten that he needed to ask you about his science shit, but you also haven't seen him anywhere, so as a last ditch effort before you run on to practice, you poke your head into his classroom and find him mid-dealing with cleaning duties.

Ah. That explains it. He must have forgotten he had them.

At the sight of you, he looks a little surprised, but waves with a smile once he's regained his composure. You wave back at him, though your hand is occupied with the notebook he needs.

"[surname]-san. Where's your guard dog?" Asuka asks as you cross the room to him.

You wince. "Uh, I don't know. Probably getting ready for practice. I'm sorry about him."

He shrugs. "Boyfriends tend not to like me. It's fine."

"He's not my boyfriend," you reply immediately. "He's just a friend, and I have now talked to him about not trying to chase off my other friends. You wanted to see my science notes, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Forgot about that. Can you wait until I finish cleaning? Don't wanna leave Wada-san to handle it by himself." He nods to his classmate. You nod and lean against the doorway, feeling your stomach churn. You watch them work, and when they're done, Asuka beelines for you, waving off his friend.

"Thanks for waiting. And for coming. I've got baseball right after this, so maybe I could just take some pics of your notes and get your number if I've got questions?"

Oh, what the hell. He's harmless, weird new tension with Noya aside. "Sure, give me your phone."

"Does that guy know he's not your boyfriend? Because that wasn't the impression I was getting from him."

"I've told him before. I don't usually mind it when he chases people off because it's usually, like, random strangers in public who won't take a hint if it's me telling them I'm not interested, but I mean, come on. There's obviously a difference between 'chasing off a random stranger' and 'chasing off a friend of mine he doesn't know', and like, I know he's going through shit right now? But the way he acted today pissed me off."

"Sucks that he doesn't respect you enough to check with you first. Why bother hanging around him at all at that point?"

The guilt lightning-strikes you in that moment. "He's my best friend. I'm not gonna drop him just because he overstepped a little."

Asuka shrugs. "Sure, but be nice to yourself, at least."

"I should go," you blurt. "Club stuff. Text me if you have any questions or anything."

You rush out. By the time you've reached the girls' changing room to get ready for practice, both Yachi and Shimizu have already changed out and headed to the gym—their uniforms are in their cubbies. It gives you a moment to breathe, a moment to let it set in.

Noya doesn't need this right now. The club doesn't need you right now. But, well—

You promised Yachi the two of you would work hard together. That means something, at least. You rub at your eyes furiously, hard enough to hurt a little, and get changed.

When you arrive at practice, the guys are just finishing up their warmup stretches. You issue a breathless apology to the girls.

"Are you okay?" Shimizu asks in reply.

You force a practiced smile. "Oh, I'm alright. That concoction I told you about this morning just made me feel a little sick, is all."

An easy lie. Always so easy, when it isn't Noya. You keep pretending everything's easy for the rest of practice, but you're pretty sure Noya is avoiding you, now, and when you seek him out at the start of individual practice—

"Hey, I'm gonna have to cancel tonight," he says by way of greeting. "You probably need more time to prepare if you're gonna teach me to cook anyway, right?"

"Oh." Just, oh. You're not sure what else to say.

"I just think I should probably head home today once practice is over. You know, with everything going on."

A million responses race through your head, a million follow-ups.

I'm sorry.

Do you want me to help you work on that set?

Please forgive me.

Take care of yourself.

Are you doing okay?

Please don't leave me.

I'm sorry.

"Okay," you say. It takes you too long to realize that you should say something else here. "See you later?"

He nods, distracted. Runs off, shouting for Tanaka to hit some of his tosses.

You spend half an hour in the girls' changing room trying to recover. When you get home, any panic attacks you have while posted up by the window, waiting to make sure he gets home safe, are between you and the altar to your mom. Such is life.

~

It's sort of amazing how little time fixes anything. Noya doesn't walk with you to school the next morning. You show up late again, having waited for him, only to find him already there, warmed up, pushing himself too, too hard. When breaks come, he heads towards Yachi or Shimizu—obviously preferring the latter about three to one—for a water bottle, a towel, anything to not talk to you. Lunchtime finds you hiding from the world and barely eating two bites.

The week drags forward, and you with it.

The next day is much of the same, except Asuka finds you while you're debating on where to hide that day, so you Don't Eat Lunch with him instead of alone. Most of your energy goes towards pretending to be okay.

Unlike everyone else, he's happy to pretend he believes you.

Everyone else, in this case, has taken to asking you what's up with Noya, what's up with you, why aren't you guys talking, what happened. If one more person offers to knock some sense into him for you, you're going to break their leg or your wrist or both.

It's not your place to apologize. Asuka keeps telling you as much, too—Noya's the one who overstepped boundaries, Noya's the one turning this into a whole event when he could have just apologized and not done it again. Asuka's also the only one beside Noya who knows what's going on, assuming Noya hasn't told anyone. You're pretty sure he hasn't, because you keep getting questions, including—worst of all—texts from Rina. She wants to know the next time you're coming over for dinner.

You read the notifications, swipe them away. Don't open the messages, never reply.

At least it's Tuesday. At least your dad's coming home early tonight.

You'd left practice a little early to make a nice dinner and avoid Noya, and the solitude while you cook isn't a comfort, but at least you can steep in anxiety about how dinner with your dad's gonna go. It'll be a refreshing change of pace from everything else.

Cooking gives you a lot of time to think. Usually, you like to use the time for some light studying—a notebook propped open somewhere in the room, you'll talk under your breath and go over whatever the day's content was, check it against your notes—but you can't handle that today. Instead, you're thinking about—what else? Noya.

The thing is, Asuka's right. You're not the one who needs to apologize. You do deserve better than being made to apologize for someone else's overstep. It's not fair to you to get the silent treatment for telling your friend not to chase off your other friends, let alone when you really don't have that many to begin with.

But… you miss Noya. You miss him desperately. Fifteen times this week, you've caught yourself just before texting Noya a request for a Soba picture. Many more times than that, you've studiously paged through every Soba you've saved—every Soba you've received—in hopes of feeling a little better, but then you inevitably think about Noya and get upset all over again.

(It might help if you had a separate folder for Soba pictures and Soba selfies so you didn't have to look at his stupid face and frequently bare chest while searching for comfort.)

Other statistics of note: in the four days since you entered this standoff, you've grown 30% more reckless on average, slept about two hours less a night, become completely unable to focus in class, and accumulated seven new injuries to your hands and arms from "carelessness".

The knife slips as you're making dinner. Eight new injuries to hands and arms from "carelessness".

Part of you wants to leave the new injury bleeding. Part of you knows you should clean it up immediately—good first aid practice and all that. You stand there and stare probably for too long, dripping blood onto the cutting board, before remembering that your father has to eat this dinner, too. That's about the only thing that makes you slap a glove over it and get back to work.

Your father, to his credit, comes home at the time he told you he would. Just in time, too—dinner's ready. It actually starts off really nice—he compliments your cooking, tells you a little bit about workplace gossip. He seems to be dancing around something, but then, towards the end of the meal—

"How's school?"

"Um," you start, voice wavering. "My studies are going well, I think. It's sort of an easy month in general, but midterms are next month, so it's not like I can sit back and relax. I just wish I could get my brain back from the concussion. It's finally starting to get back to normal, but I'm having trouble focusing."

"And that club of yours?"

You shrug. "It's fine."

Silence. When you look up, he's looking at you like he's trying to solve a problem.

"What?"

"Few weeks ago, you couldn't help but talk my ear off about those boys, and suddenly it's fine?"

Holy fuck your dad actually noticed something was wrong with you. It's actually that bad.

"Everything alright with that boy you're dating?"

"We're not," you say too quickly. "Um, dating, I mean. We… we never were dating."

"What, really? You two were all over each other when I met him."

"We're just friends. But we, um, we haven't been talking recently, and I—" Your voice cracks, and with it, your composure. "—I think he should be the one to apologize to me, but he's not, and I know he's going through a lot with his family right now and I want to be there for him, but I—he—he was really rude to a friend of mine and I told him to back off and now he's not talking to me and he's obviously avoiding me but—"

Your father sighs. "It sounds like he's jealous of your friend."

"He's jealous of everyone unless he knows they're not a threat. But even if—even if Asuka-san were a threat, and I'm not saying he's not, that doesn't give him the right to tell me who my friends are!"

"Right." He nods. "Is this boy that important to you?"

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks. "He's my best friend. I—I don't want to lose him. More than anything, I don't want to lose him."

A long sigh. "Your mother said something like that to me, once."

"Huh?"

He laughs, a faraway look in his eyes. "Right before we got together. She told me that she liked me so much that she was afraid to ever date me because she couldn't handle it if she lost me."

"Do you regret being with her?"

"Me?" He blinks. "Absolutely not. I'd marry her again in a heartbeat."

"Even though it wrecked you when she… when she died?"

"Honey. Of course I don't regret it. We got you, didn't we? And the time I had with her was happy."

You look at him—really look at him. He's haggard. His face has aged so much in the past two years that he looks permanently exhausted, skin gray. He's barely been able to stand being in this house since your mom died. In the early days, when you managed to drag yourself out of bed, even before you could make yourself talk again after the incident, you recall having to drag him out of bed, having to make sure he ate. Sometimes you think he never really left that bed.

Another loss like that will kill you. Not worth the risk.

"I think it's probably time that I pick myself up from her loss, actually," he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "She always told me to move on if I ever lost her. There's this gorgeous woman at work, and maybe… I don't know. Do you think it's too soon?"

"I don't really think that's my decision to make," you reply quietly.

You finish eating not long after. He helps you get the dishes cleaned, helps you pack away a lunch for practice tomorrow. You head up to your room early—gotta study, you know? Thank you for coming home—and dig your nails into the new cut on your hand, gasping for air.

He can move on without you. That's fine. They all can.

~

What gets you isn't that Noya's distanced himself from you. I mean, that hurts like a fucking bitch, but the part that gets you the most is that you keep convincing yourself that he's fine with it. His play hasn't suffered at all—a few more bruises, maybe, a bit quieter, but you keep the statistics. You know he's playing just as effectively as usual, if not a little better.

You could start dating someone else right now, and he probably wouldn't even notice. As it is, he doesn't seem to care that you're utterly miserable. You almost didn't show up today at all, but if you'd stayed home, you'd have to spend time with your dad, and you can't stop thinking about him replacing your mom, and you don't want to take a potential happiness from him.

As much as you're trying your best, as much as you're forcing smiles and pretending to be okay, you can't fucking take it anymore. The thing that makes you snap is so stupid, so innocuous. He just asks Shimizu if she wants help carrying something. It means nothing. Nothing at all, but you can't fucking be here anymore.

"My head hurts," you snap towards Yachi. She jolts a little at your tone. "I think I'm gonna head out early."

"Oh—okay. Are you gonna be alright?"

"Yeah. Just another damn concussion headache. Don't worry about me, okay?"

"Well, okay…"

She lets you go. No one else notices you leave, it doesn't seem. Fine enough. For the first time in a while, you genuinely want to be alone. You consider taking a walk to the nearby park, staying out until some cop makes you go home. Maybe going for a run until you throw up, or finding someone to get in a fight with. Satsuki should be on Noya's side in all this; maybe she'll give you a black eye to ground you for a little bit.

Of course, because you're so desperate to be alone, you hear a call of your name on the way out the school gate. You could set your clock by it—Asuka, running up to you with his usual boyish smile at the worst timing possible.

"Hey, fancy running into you here!"

"Hey, Asuka-san. Sorry, I've got a bit of a headache, so I'm actually heading home—"

"Hey, no problem. I just wanted to ask you real quick, while I've got you."

Your heart drops into your stomach. You've got a bad feeling about this. "What is it?"

"I can't keep pretending like you're not absolutely gorgeous and smart and fun. I know things have been rough for you lately, but can I make it a little better? Will you be my girlfriend?"

The human brain is an amazing thing. Have you ever really thought about that? You pick up a bag or a book or something else, and your brain does a million silent calculations to tell your arm how much force to use to lift it based on how it feels in your hand. You swish a can of soda, and based on the way the liquids inside feel, your brain instinctively can just tell about how much is left inside without any visual feedback. All the things your body can do without having to consciously think about it—human language, manipulating a pen to write a communicable message, fucking walking.

A million calculations must have happened without even thinking about it. Later, you sit down, try to reverse-engineer what led to your answer. You end up with something along these lines:

No

• Asuka is just a casual friend (this is better—it won't hurt as much to lose him)
• Asuka isn't exactly your type (but maybe you just need to warm up to him and give him a chance)
• You're not really looking to date right now (you're not explicitly off the market)
• ████████████⁴⁵
• Saying yes would be insanely self-destructive (you need to self-destruct right now)

Yes

• No good reason to say no.

Chapter Text

31 - damage control

[name] to Fukurodani Group Managers!!! at 16:16

[name]: hi

[name]: I need a council

~

Kiyoko to Fukurodani Group Managers!!! at 18:05

Kiyoko: does this have anything to do with the fact that you and nishinoya haven't been talking for the past week?

Yukie: WHAT

Yukie: WHAT HAPPENED WITH CUTE LIBERO BF

[name]: I cannot beg you more emphatically to not call him my boyfriend right now

Mako: what happened???

Yachi: something's been going on with them recently, but [surname]-chan hasn't really wanted to talk about it

[name]: please

[name]: focus

[name]: I maybe got an actual boyfriend

Eri: you WHAT

Eri: clarification. NOT the libero???

Kiyoko: omfg

Kiyoko: is this why you haven't been talking?

[name]: no

[name]: not like. directly anyway.

[name]: the boyfriend was today after I left practice

Yukie: is he cute

[name]: he's ok i guess

[name]: I dont. know. how i got here

Eri: wait so if you're this like. lukewarm about actual bf. why are you dating him??

[name]: I dont KNOW!

[name]: he asked and I panicked and I'm trying to figure out how tf i got here and im spiraling

[name]: noya doesnt need this right now

[name]: i keep trying to get myself to text asuka-san and tell him im soryy i dont know why i said yes and i cant do it but every time i try i just fully blank

[name]: he was like. an acquaintance maybe a friend

[name]: hes kinda the only person ive been able to talk to since stuff started happening with noya

[name]: uh no offense yacchan + shimizu-senpai

[name]: just like. the only one not somehow involved with the club and who didn't know noya and who could just like. listen from outside.

[name]: i guess he's nice???

[name]: he plays baseball

Mako: the fact that you're not excited about the new boyfriend and the only thing you're worried about is libero boy is a really good sign that you are not in the right relationship

[name]: ive had like three panic attacks since i texted earlier and i think i might have another here in a second

[name]: you know what's funny?

[name]: hes a catcher. he's basically just a fucking. baseball libero bc my life is a joke

Kaori: ok i'm here now. what the fuck

Kaori: break up with baseball boy

Kaori: but also we're missing key context here. why were you not talking to libero?

[name]: its so stupid

[name]: he's been going through some stuff recently

[name]: so we were like. eating lunch together. bc I figured the other guys wouldn't question it if he dipped on them to eat with me and he really needed to like. stop pretending to be okay for five minutes and just breathe

[name]: it actually concerns me how good he is at making people think nothing is wrong. i don't think i would have noticed if i didn't know already

Yachi: wait soimething happened???

Yachi: *something

[name]: the story's not really my place to talk about. also i only know like half of it. please also do not mention this part to anyone else for obvious reasons.

[name]: and like. we were having fun and things were good. he was flirting which he does and almost kinda seeming like things WEREN'T blowing up and it was FUN

[name]: and then asuka-san (baseball) shows up looking for me. something about fucking… idk notes or something. we'd been sharing notes from time to time because i felt bad bothering everyone else for notes and i'm only just finally getting my brain completely back from the concussion so I'm basically useless for morning classes

[name]: noya flips out. does that whole protective glaring and growling thing. but it's sorta different when it's someone I know who's literally just trying to keep his science grade up.

[name]: i guess I probably missed some context bc he tried to just like. sit with us after I told him it wasn't a good time and ofc noya's like. hell no.

[name]: asuka-san leaves and he's obviously annoyed and now noya's telling me about how he apparently already KNOWS about him bc his SISTER checked up on him and I shouldn't hang out with him and like

[name]: in hindsight asuka-san was definitely only talking to me because he wanted to go out with me. but??? don't tell me who I can be friends with??? so I told noya he was overstepping and not to do that shit and then we just. stopped talking.

[name]: next thing I know he's canceling on hangouts we already had scheduled and shit starts going bad totally separately and now THIS and

[name]: i dont know what to do

Kiyoko: I think you kinda do?

Yachi: ^

[name]: no but like

[name]: Ive never felt uncomfy with silence with noya before

Kiyoko: no offense I swear but has he EVER been silent off the court???

[name]: he's different when it's just us.

[name]: like… deeply different

[name]: i think maybe if he acted around other people the way he is when it's just us other people would see the appeal immediately and I wouldn't have to worry about this bc he'd have a prettier partner who absolutely adores him

[name]: that aside i don't think i should have to apologize for telling him not to tell me who i can be friends with or talk to

[name]: but this is ripping me the fuck apart

Yachi: yeah, you've been… really obviously not okay this past week

Yachi: sorry

Kiyoko: you should tell him that and tell this asuka guy that you made a mistake

Kiyoko: I keep telling you that nishinoya's different around you and you clearly already know that? he's in love with you and the way you are around him is really telling of the fact that you've got SOME kind of feelings for him

Eri: the guy I saw with you was like. insanely sweet and caring yknow?

Eri: I don't know many guys who'd be that gentle. Our guys are nice but there's nice and then there's… that

Yukie: I have spent my entire life searching for a guy who will hand feed me when I'm not feeling well and that one just did it unprompted

Kaori: I can confirm that that's Yuki-chan's dream

Mako: break up with baseball boy it's not too late

[name]: see but all that's just it!

[name]: this stupid fight aside senpai's basically like. perfect

[name]: he's too perfect for me to ever date him

[name]: someone always has to leave first

[name]: asuka-san's… safe

[name]: whenever that blows up in my face I can survive it

[name]: do you have any idea what it would do to me if I actually got together with senpai and he changed his mind? If he DIED???

[name]: I've watched my dad live in hell for the past two years because the love of his life died

[name]: I'VE lived in hell for the past two years because she died

Yachi: [surname]-chan…

[name]: do you have any idea how close I am to not being able to take it anymore

[name]: if I lost senpai it'd push me over the edge so it's better that I never have him to begin with

[name]: maybe… this is good?

Mako: NO

Kiyoko: first of all I'm sorry about your mom (?) that's horrible

Kiyoko: second of all that is insane logic

Eri: I can't read suddenly

Eri: for a second I thought you just implied that libero is the love of your life and that's why you can't date him

Kaori: addition to insane behavior: "I can't date this guy because I like him too much so instead I'm going to date this guy I don't like that much because I'm planning for all my relationships to fall apart"

[name]: do you know how relationships work

[name]: there's only so many possible endings

[name]: we date and either one of us dies or we break up or we get married and THEN one of us dies or we break up

[name]: no other possible endings. someone always loses someone.

[name]: this is safe and it's good probably

[name]: it'll hurt a lot but it'd hurt more later so

Yachi: why did you ask for a council if you weren't going to listen to what we had to say??

Yachi: omg that came out totaly ewrong I'm sorry

Yachi: *totally **wrong

Yachi: …[surname]-chan?

~

Lunchtime comes and you barely register it. You've spent the day feeling nauseous. Far too nauseous to eat, at any rate. You stare out the window, mentally calculating the distance to the ground. Yachi tried to talk to you once or twice all day, including an apology for something she said in the group chat last night, but you'd shrugged it off. The good news is, you're starting to feel numb.

The bad news comes in the form of a pretty girl's thighs resting on your desk in the corner of your vision.

Satsuki found out fast.

"You wanna tell me why the fuck Hitomi-chan's telling me you got a boyfriend?"

"Genuinely, I do not know who Hitomi-chan is," you reply dully, unable to look at her.

"Asuka's older sister."

"Oh." You shrug. "Probably because I've lost control of my life."

A hand grabs your jaw roughly, jerks you to look into Satsuki's eyes. She softens a little as you stare back at her. "Why are you going out with him?"

"I don't know."

"You realize that Yuu's going to be completely heartbroken?"

You barely manage a nod. "I kept telling him something like this would happen. He refused to listen."

"You could have just told the guy you didn't want to go out with him."

"Sometimes I know something's going to hurt me and everyone I care about and I do it anyway because, quite genuinely, I am not in control."

"Okay, so break up with Asuka."

You shrug. "I think it's safer like this. Noya—Nishinoya would leave me completely destroyed if we ever dated and it didn't work out."

"Oh, don't you start dropping nicknames now, missy."

Another shrug.

"I get you've been through some shit, but—I mean, come on, [name]-chan. Who are you protecting, here? You look like shit."

"I also feel like shit. It gets worse before it gets better."

"So what's the fucking point?"

"You seem really determined to figure out why I'm self-destructing and ruining my life. I think you'd probably need a psych degree to get anywhere productive, though."

Satsuki's eyes narrow. "I'm determined to figure out why you spent a month literally sleeping in my little brother's arms and then started dating some messy baseball player instead."

You could do without the broadcasting. You don't have much energy to try to stop it. "Messy?"

"Three girls last year alone. I tracked them down. Two of them were at the same time, [name]-chan. Even setting aside my obvious bias, he doesn't exactly have a good track record."

…eh. You don't deserve much better.

"…just… look after your brother for me, okay? I know the timing is rough for him, and I'm sorry about that."

"I should fucking hit you for this."

"Do it," you reply with another shrug. "Send me out that window while you're at it."

"[name]-chan."

"Consider all this doing him a favor. I'm fundamentally broken. He deserves someone who can actually be there for him."

"You—augh!" She slams her fist on the desk hard enough to jolt it before hopping off. "I don't know why you're so convinced you're some horrible person who doesn't deserve to be happy, but you need to stop dragging other people into it. Text me when you want to come to your fucking senses."

~

Satsuki to Yuu at 12:52

Satsuki: where are you?

Yuu: why?

Satsuki: where are you

Yuu: 2-4. I'm bothering chikara

Satsuki: stay there. I'm gonna come find you

Yuu: ?

~

"Alright, spill."

Yuu fights the urge to sigh. "Hi, Satsuki. Do I get context now?"

"What happened between the two of you?"

He shrugs. Avoids eye contact. "Can we do this later?"

"No, we can't, and don't shrug at me." Satsuki slams a hand on the desk. "Why is she dating him?"

His blood ices in an instant. Beside him, Ryuu chokes on his lunch. "What?"

"Why. Is she. Dating him."

"Since when? Who said—"

"According to baseball bitch's sister, and as of yesterday."

…shit. He really did fuck this one up.

"What happened between you two? You were fucking glued at the hip before last week, and I know it's not because of the thing."

"I don't wanna talk about it," Yuu mumbles. His voice doesn't really sound like his suddenly.

"Too bad. Talk about it."

"N-Nishinoya-san, maybe you should—"

Satsuki glares harshly at Hisashi. "We're talking. Unless you have insight on the situation, I don't want to hear it."

"We're not talking."

"I talked to her to confirm before I came here, Yuu. She looks fucking miserable. You know what she said when I tried to get answers?"

He's not sure he can handle it. "Don't, Nee-san."

She glares something awful. A lesser man might not have been able to handle it, but Yuu's known Satsuki his whole life and can probably take it if she hits him. He'd probably deserve it, too.

"Fine. But you're coming home tonight, you're not staying at practice obscenely late, and you're talking to us. And if you try to skip out—it's hair night, by the way, so good luck walking around with your hair all fucked up for the next few months if you skip—I'm showing up in that gym and dragging you home. Got it?"

"Sure."

She storms out in a huff. Later, when he's had the time to take it in, he'll probably be angry. Probably break something. Probably snap when Satsuki inevitably drags the story out of him.

For now, Yuu tunes out the world. Ignores the questions from the other second years. Shrugs it off when Tsukishima, of all people, asks him about it before practice. Wades through the day.

~

Noya to [name] at 13:04

Noya: did you seriously start going out with that guy?

Noya: tell me this is one of your tests

[name]: im so sorry [message not sent]

~

The guys know by the end of the day.

Based on the timing of the text you got earlier, you assume Satsuki told Noya and perhaps the other guys, not that you need to know the flow of information. If Satsuki hadn't, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi could have heard from Asuka in class. Yachi or Shimizu could have mentioned it to Noya or to one of the other guys, who would have passed it on. No matter how it happened, the fact is that the guys are looking at you differently now.

You're a heartbreaker, you guess.

There's questions in their eyes. Noya, on the other hand, won't even look at you. You keep your head down and pretend like you're fine. You're not letting relationship drama get in the way of your work as a manager.

You told Noya a thousand times that he'd get hurt chasing you. Maybe now he'll actually believe you.

~

Asuka to [name] at 20:20

Asuka: do you wanna go on a date next weekend? I'd like to take you out if you're down

~

[name] to Asuka at 20:42

[name]: i cant do this [message not sent]

[name]: i'd love to! :) let me know when

Chapter Text

32 - getting over heartbreak with yuu

0: Decide to get over it

Yuu is having a really bad month.

It's reached the point that he's just sort of shuffling through his days. He throws himself into volleyball, ends up with more bruises than is strictly needed. He wants to get mad, but every time he feels it kick up, he sees Mei's scared face and her flinch, and nausea lurches to the surface in its place. In class, he's distracted—he'd really been doing better at paying attention—and with his friends, he's distant.

He comes home from practice, as promised, without running over too late. Mei and Kaede already know, courtesy of Satsuki. He assumes as much, anyway, seeing as the first thing Mei says to him when he drops his bag in the genkan is an awkward, how are you holding up? instead of a welcome back.

Bad. He's holding up bad.

All he really wants is to put a hole in the wall. You'd left at the start of individual practice. In order to avoid you, Yuu had taken his time with cooldown stretches, taken another fifteen minutes in the club room just trying to breathe. He wonders if you'd walked home with Asuka, if he'd rested a hand on your waist and talked to you the whole way, if he'd taken you to your doorstep or split after Sakanoshita. He imagines you smiling at something he said, that same fond, sweet smile you grace Yuu with when you don't think he's paying attention. He imagines you not hiding it. Imagines you happy with him. Are you comfortable with him? Do you let that Asuka see the parts of you that Yuu thought were his? Does he know about your mom, your dad, your ex girlfriend?

He stands there, in the doorway, far too long.

"That bad, huh?" Kaede cringes. "Go wash the wax out of your hair and change into your rattiest t-shirt so I can work on you."

He obeys in tired silence. Comes downstairs with reddened eyes to find that the girls have pulled out the PlayStation. It lingers on a file load screen, no one at the controller. He assumes that's Satsuki's doing—she's disappeared into the kitchen, followed by the scents of popcorn and chocolate chip cookies and bleach. Probably already had her hair done, judging by the cut hair already scattered on the Hair Night Floor Tarp™ and the bleach smell.

Hair night transforms their living room this way—Soba nowhere in sight, locked in one room or another to avoid any unfortunate bleach or hair accidents. Usually, she spends the night meowing herself hoarse, but tonight, she's quiet, like she knows. Last night, she'd clawed the shit out of the leg of the dining room table, and Yuu's litterbox pass had showed a bigger mess than usual. Mei says she's reacting to her environment, that she can tell everyone's been upset and she's stressed. That certain members of the family haven't been around.

For the sake of the floor and ease of cleaning up, Kaede lays a tarp out in the living room, moves around the couches and the coffee table. Brings in a chair from the kitchen to sit in, while her victim sits on the floor in front of her. Later, they'll put it all back as a family—Kaede will pack up her box of ambiguous Hair Stuff, Mei will scrub out the bathroom sink and shower to make sure no chemicals stain anything. Satsuki and Yuu will handle the hair clippings, the tarp. Move the furniture back in place together while Kaede and Mei tell them no, I think it was further left before, and it'll never quite go back the same, and next time, they still won't take a picture before they move everything.

Yuu flops over the armchair. He doesn't remember the last time his shoulders felt so heavy, the last time it felt so hard to talk. At least the inability to focus on anything important is familiar. He watches Mei and Kaede with muted interest—Mei showing Kaede something on her phone, likely a reference photo. Kaede reacting with surprise, then a wicked grin. Probably something drastic, like taking two whole inches off where it sits at her waist.

"Yuu, are you making any big changes this time around, or more of the same?"

He shrugs. "Don't really care."

"Hair therapy's a real thing," Satsuki says, already shoving popcorn in her mouth as she re-emerges. She looks stupid, the foils in her bangs flopping a little as she walks. "I dunno why boys don't bother, but seeing as you're going through some heartbreak shit, you should do something new with it."

"You've never changed your hair in my entire life," he grumbles back.

She shrugs, snatches up the controller. "I've never had my heart broken. Usually, I'm the one who breaks them. Also usually, because people don't fucking listen to me when I tell them I'm not in it for commitment. "

"Satsuki, you know the rules," Kaede interrupts. "No couch until after we wash your hair out."

"Ugh, you're such a bummer. Fine." Satsuki slides off the couch, landing on the tarp-covered floor (a precaution Mom had insisted on) with a thump. "As I was saying, I accept no responsibility for some girl getting her heart broken because she formed expectations that were completely contrary to what I told her I was in it for."

Nausea lurches in his stomach. You tried telling him, didn't you? Was he stupid not to believe you? "Lucky you."

For a moment, Satsuki almost looks competent at the JRPG she's playing. Almost. She comes up on a boss and dies pretty damn quickly, though.⁴⁶

"Are we gonna talk about that?" Mei asks. "Do we hate her now?"

"Yes," Satsuki says.

"No," Yuu corrects.

Satsuki rolls her eyes. "Dude, she spent a month—"

"I know," he snaps. "My problem and my heart, alright? And I say we don't hate her."

"I'm just sayin', you could stand to be a little mad at her."

"You're the one who just said you don't accept responsibility for girls who got their hopes up after you told them otherwise, or whatever. She warned me and I didn't listen. My fault."

"Okay, but you're my brother. I'm on your side by default."

"I'm not asking you to pick sides! I'm actually telling you guys not to do that!"

"Yuu," Kaede interrupts softly. "You're getting worked up. Deep breaths and clench and unclench your fists, like you've been practicing. Satsuki, stop antagonizing him. Yuu says we don't hate her, so we don't, alright?"

A tense moment. Yuu tries his best to breathe, to clench his fists so hard they ache, to release the pent-up energy as he releases his grip. Satsuki's character lets out a dying cry onscreen.

"…fine. Sorry. Can we get the story now, by the way? Nee-san says I should be nicer about the situation, so I'm trying."

He lets out a shaky breath. "She's dating Baseball Asshole."

"Right. Can we get facts I can't get from Hitomi-chan? Or maybe ones that you didn't get from me? They just started dating last night, but you haven't been talking to her, like, all week. Fight predates the relationship."

"Baseball Asshole tried to crash our lunch date. I tried to tell him to fuck off, and he did, but then she got mad at me and told me not to overstep with her friends."

"And then she stopped talking to you?" Mei asks. Kaede is taking off… a lot of her hair.

He groans. "It's more that I stopped talking to her. I didn't want to apologize."

Kaede's eyes burn straight through to his soul. Now that he's said it out loud, he just feels like an asshole. "Yuu. You're better than that."

"I know! I just—she—I didn't want to apologize for trying to tell her about a complete shithead who had his sights on her, and maybe usually I'd just suck it up and do it or we'd have one real fight and I'd get loud and then we'd make up and it'd be done, but I just keep thinking about the asshole, and I don't want to be him, and every time I start getting angry I just get scared, and I—I couldn't calm down long enough to talk to her."

Kaede lets out an annoyed grunt. "See, I was going to give you this whole big sisterly talk about how it's okay if this whole incident is a dealbreaker for you and obviously the two of you being exclusive was sort of implied, but now I'm just trying to hold back on lecturing you when you're already heartbroken."

"You don't gotta tell me. I get it. Besides, we were actually talking about that before I fucked up. Baseball Asshole interrupted me before I could tell her that actually, I wasn't going to be dating or chasing anyone else while trying to get her to marry me and she should just go out with me to make it easier."

Mei sighs. "She told Satsuki and I once that she'd marry you if you hit a thousand no matter what. Even if it meant breaking up with a guy to uphold her end of the bet."

He flinches. "She was saying something like that to me, too."

Satsuki lets out a sigh of her own. "She told me today that she didn't know why she was dating him. Something about how anyone short of an actual therapist wouldn't be able to figure out what the fuck—"

"—language, Satsuki—"

"—what the fuck!—her problem was. Nee-san, don't ride my ass about language when you're letting Yuu say whatever he wants."

Kaede huffs, but doesn't press it. Satsuki snatches a cookie off the plate, holds it up just short of Yuu's face. He doesn't really feel like cookies right now, but she rarely takes no for an answer, so…

"Oh, and she asked me to look after you and said that it was, quote, safer like this. She's determined not to leave Asuka, but she also said it'd destroy her if the two of you dated and it didn't work out."

He chokes on the cookie, thumps his chest firmly. His heart is racing in his throat. "She what?"

Satsuki just shrugs. "I don't know what her deal is, but it sounds like she's determined to protect the both of you by making you both miserable."

The timer interrupts his thought. Satsuki hops up, leaving the popcorn bowl aside. "Gotta go shower this shit out. Don't do anything crazy, 'kay, Yuu? Maybe you'll have better luck than I am with beating this blond asshole up."

In her absence, Kaede and Mei fill the space. Yuu gets up to take the controller and suffer a few more deaths to this boss for Satsuki.

"What am I even supposed to do with that?" he asks as the tears spring up. "She doesn't want to hear from me. She won't even look at me at practice anymore, and I don't blame her. Every time I try to talk to her, I freeze up because I just think about Baseball Asshole and all the dirt Satsuki has on him, and he's gonna hurt her, and then I get more pissed off, and—"

He dies quite unceremoniously. He casts the controller aside and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, hard enough to hurt a little.

"You're scared."

"And now she's dating the guy, and if I start hitting her with all this stuff about how his last two girlfriends were at the same time, she's just gonna get angrier at me. I keep thinking that—that she's gonna turn around and say she's sorry, this was just one of her tests and she never wanted to hurt me, and she's gonna knock like fifty proposals off what I still need for the trouble so I can tell her I'll accept her apology if she goes on a date with me or something."

"Alright, Mei, you're all set. How do you feel?"

Mei sucks in a breath as she looks into the mirror Kaede's provided. She's gone to a bob, for some reason, an actual pile of hair surrounding her. It kinda suits her. "Panicky."

"Threat level?"

"Two. It looks great, I just also can't believe I actually did that."

"You look good! Yuu, you're up. Come sit."

He sits on the floor in front of Kaede, amid the growing pile of hair on the floor, like Kaede hasn't just completely brushed off his spiral. Mei takes her place on the couch to stare at herself in the hand mirror and suppress a minor panic attack.

"Final chance. Are we doing anything different from usual?"

He shakes his head.

"So are you gonna back down?"

"Huh?"

"From [name]-chan. You want her to break up with him and come running back to you. That's not gonna happen if you keep sitting here feeling sorry for yourself."

"What am I supposed to do? Beat the shit out of her boyfriend?"

Kaede laughs. "No, but you can be there for her, and apologize for overstepping and cutting her off for a week, and keep being her friend. She's gonna need one if Satsuki's intel holds any weight. You can pick yourself up and try to be happy and try to move on. You can tell her to get her ass over here for dinner this week before Okaa-san breaks down her door to check on her. If and when the guy hurts her, with her permission, then you can beat the shit out of him."

"Need to—to breathe and recover first, I think."

"Why?"

"So I don't say all the wrong shit and basically make sure she never comes back to me."

"So we'll do a little research. Get you through the heartbreak without forgetting her, if that's what you want to do."

"Maybe I'll text the guys," Yuu sighs. "We don't have practice tomorrow. Feel like I need their help in figuring this out."

"You do that, and stop tilting your head back—"

Satsuki returns, takes over the PlayStation. Yuu spends the time that Kaede's working on his hair watching Satsuki finally defeat that fucking boss. When the time comes to rinse and wash, he spends too long in the shower—washing out the bleach, scrubbing his skin too hard, hoping to wash away all of it and everything, to come out someone new, someone who isn't aching at the thought of you.

~

1: Start a journal

The way Yuu sees it, once he's decided to pick himself up and source from the internet and his family, there's a few ways to get over heartbreak. Many of them, he has to throw out—his goal isn't to get over you, only the hurt. He still believes he doesn't have to do both.

There's a few, at least, that are decent even for getting through the million emotions he's dealing with, which is how he finds himself in Mei's room after dinner, watching her rifle through stacks of notebooks.

"You don't have to journal every day," Mei tells him. "Whenever you feel like it is fine, though I find that making an effort to do it every day really helps me sort through my feelings—ah! Here it is!" She produces a fine enough journal—sleek, black, that fake leather for the cover that feels nice enough to the touch.⁴⁷ It looks like something he would have picked for himself if he'd ever thought about journaling on his own time. "Here. It's yours. Even if you just use it to get all your thoughts out tonight, I think it's probably still good to do, and you can keep it forever if you want."

The paper is nice. Too nice, really. He sits at his seldom-used desk in his bedroom and wastes at least a minute of time just feeling it, running his finger up and down the page. The paper is smooth, cold. He has the urge to get up, to pace.

He stays in the chair and begins to write.

Yuu starts with the basics—his list of techniques for getting over the hurt, filling up the first page with notes from how-to articles and what he can remember of his conversation over dinner. The page is filled easily, between his messy handwriting and the options he has, and so he turns the page and begins journaling for real.

He writes about the asshole, about how he's coming to re-understand his favorite sister all over again. Pages and pages of it—his hand is cramping, and yet he keeps writing. About Mei, growing up quiet, about how he never knew why she was like that. Wondering about what she might have been like, if the Nishinoyas would have been a pack of animals otherwise. Instead, this is what they have—Kaede too responsible, Mei too scared. Satsuki too angry or too noncommittal, unwilling to think about anything except what's the most fun in the moment.

He isn't much better—never looking back, always looking towards improving, towards having fun in the best way he knows. Speaking before thinking, if he thinks at all. He thinks maybe he and Satsuki will spend the rest of their lives without really thinking. They'll split the work in Mom's shop, never grow beyond this little town, never grow up enough to break from this sleepy little neighborhood where he lives three doors down from you and never learns how to cook. Someday, you'll move on to something better, some city where you do things. Probably go to college, have a career.

His hand stills. He's written four pages of this, gripping the pencil too tight, wondering if he should have used pen instead. Is that what's wrong with him? Is that why you're with someone else? The only thing in his future plan is to marry you, and now he's not even sure he'll get to do that.

He throws down the pencil, reaches for his phone even though he hasn't finished writing his last sentence. He needs a second opinion.

~

2: Ask a trusted friend for help

Texting Ryuu sees him back in the volleyball gym the next day, even though Coach had given them the day off of practice—both he and Takeda caught the same cold—and even though he had a text about come home early tonight if you can in the family group chat. He's sure it had something to do with the panic in the morning, which Yuu—having slept in—hadn't bothered tuning into.

Ryuu had rallied the troops, which amounts to about half the club, excluding the managers. What for, exactly, Yuu isn't certain, just that it's supposed to help him move forward through the pain and better himself.

"Thank you all for coming to this secret bonus meeting of the Karasuno High School Volleyball Club," Ryuu greets. The guys are posted up in a weird sort of half-circle around the whiteboard. Yuu stands opposite him, ready for whatever this entails. "Today is a really important strategy meeting we've organized, so your participation is encouraged and appreciated!"

"A strategy meeting?" Shouyo echoes, tilting his head. "Oh, for the Spring Tournament? Cool!"

Ryuu laughs darkly, shakes his head. Turns to the whiteboard to write the real topic on the board. When he's finished, he turns and slaps a hand against the surface to punctuate it. "Our topic today is this!" On the board, he's written: Why isn't Noya-san popular, despite being so cool?⁴⁸

Silence. Absolute silence. Yuu feels cold, but refuses to show it.

3: Focus on improving yourself.

Slowly, Tsukishima's hand raises.

"Yes, Tsukishima!"

"Can I go home?"

"I'm glad you asked! No you cannot!"

A long-suffering sigh. "Is this because of [surname]-san's new boyfriend?"

Ryuu clears his throat, uncapped marker in hand. "Everyone here knows Noya-san is cool as hell. He's the coolest guy here. He's manly. His looks aren't awful. And he's not popular with girls."

"Eh?" Shouyo says, tilting his head. "R-really?"

Yuu nods firmly. "Not even a little!"

"But… Why not?"

"That's what we're here to figure out!" Ryuu slaps a hand against the board. "Noya-san, are you prepared to accept whatever opinions may come?"

"Of course." His eyes are firm. "I can take every criticism you have of me!"

"I… don't get it," Kageyama mumbles.

Shouyo shakes his head. "Me neither."

"It's definitely because [name]-chan started dating that guy in the baseball club."

"So!" Ryuu shouts. "Your opinions, please!"

The volleyball club looks on in silence, a few thoughtful noises coming from those few taking it seriously. Shouyo's the first to raise his hand, the first to start the suggestions. Ryuu writes them down as they come in a flurry.

Before long, the remaining white space on the board is filled with ideas, ranging from "too cool" (Shouyo) to "annoying loud" (Tsukishima). The cold has melted away a little—Yuu lets himself go with the flow, lets himself shout when he should, joke around, act like Noya-san. He covers up actual offense with blustering replies.

He kind of feels like going back to that stupid, rambly journal.

And then, when they're on a proper roll, when maybe they're getting somewhere and his friends are figuring out what, exactly, makes him so easy to pass over, the door opens, and the guys fall silent.

Kiyoko leads the charge, but right behind her, mid-rant, is you, carrying a laundry basket as you walk.

"I think I'm just, like, fundamentally broken," you're saying, fully not paying attention. "I mean—oh."

You stop, a deer in headlights, as you notice the guys—Ryuu in a panic, trying to erase the board before you can read anything. The words don't disappear under his hand, nor beneath his sleeve, and with horror, he looks at the marker in his hand.

Yuu has a sinking feeling that it wasn't a dry erase marker.

"Dude, erase it," he hisses.

"Do you have any idea how to get permanent marker off a whiteboard?" Ryuu replies.

"Tanaka, do not tell me you just ruined a whiteboard with—"

"I didn't mean to! Why was there even a permanent marker on the whiteboard tray—"

"Coach Ukai is going to kill you—"

"'Why isn't Noya-san popular with girls, despite being so cool'…?" you read aloud, setting down the basket to approach the group. Yuu can't bring himself to look at your face as you read, but that doesn't stop him from hearing the sad way you sigh. "Noya. This is just cruel."

"Cruel?" he echoes. "I'm just trying to—"

"Ignore basically all of this. It doesn't reflect anything real, and it's mostly just… deprecating. Also, Tanaka-senpai, that isn't how you write despite."

Whatever nervous excuse Ryuu gives is lost on you. You pluck a marker off the tray, inspect it with sad eyes. Make a show of rolling up a single sleeve, of crossing out the word short emphatically. Before anyone can react, you scribble over it furiously, following the lines carefully.

"Can one of you bring me some water and a towel so I can save the whiteboard?" you ask in a dull voice. "In the first place, there's not really great logic involved in asking a bunch of guys how to be popular with girls, Noya-senpai."

"What's your opinion then, [surname]-san?" Shouyo asks. "You're a girl."

Holy fuck. He actually asked you.

You hum thoughtfully as you finish covering short in black marker. "In the first place, anything you can't actually control is a waste of time to think about. You can't decide how tall you are, y'know? And any girl who gets caught up on something like that or treats you like you're lesser for that stuff doesn't deserve you in the first place, and you deserve someone who doesn't treat basic facts about you as something to overlook."

You drag your bare arm over the blacked-out short. Like magic, it's disappeared under your marker—a few sighs are released at the realization. You move right on to childish.

"Okay, so what can I actually do to be better?" Yuu asks.

Your eyes snap to him. It's the first time you've really looked at him directly in a while. "That's… if you're trying to get, like, popular appeal and a fanclub, that's probably not going to happen. Not because there's anything wrong with you, but you've gotta be a certain annoying type of person to garner a fanclub, and there's luck involved. If you're trying to just get a girlfriend, well… pick one girl, and pick better."

"Better?" He raises an eyebrow. "Follow-up question. What do I have to do to get you to realize that you're not a punishment?"

A bitter laugh. The word childish disappears completely under your marker. "This isn't about me. But, just… if people don't see you for who you are, that's their loss. I know it can be frustrating, but I honestly don't think anyone who doesn't like you for… any of the reasons listed up here, really, is gonna be good enough for you. You deserve someone who's actually gonna like you, not the person you're pretending to be to get girls."

"But—"

"My head hurts." You say it too quickly, too firmly, too out-of-nowhere, to be anything but an impulsive lie. "Yacchan, Shimizu-senpai, are you two good if I…"

Kiyoko nods. "Go rest if you need to. We're just doing laundry, anyway."

Your lie is painfully, painfully obvious, but no one is willing to call you on it. The Karasuno High School Volleyball club watches you leave without another word.

When they're sure you're gone, Yuu watches Yachi turn to Kiyoko, begin to whisper. After a moment of feverish, quiet debate, they straighten and turn to him.

"We should probably talk."

Chapter Text

33 - getting through with you

4. Take some time to yourself

You've decided that you can't be around people any more today. In an effort to avoid everyone, you do the most logical thing possible: you go get the groceries you've been putting off. You buy what you absolutely need to get through a shitty week—a meal planned for whatever day your dad comes home, the absolute basics to feed you the rest of the week.

This is how you end up walking through the front door of Rina's butcher shop before remembering that you had sworn to either buy grocery store meat or go vegetarian.

You don't know what Noya's told her. You've ignored about fifty texts from her checking in on you and trying to get you to come over sometime this week, so you get the feeling he hasn't told her anything. Basically the only thing you can be sure of is that she's worried.

Maybe it's better that you're here to put those fears to rest.

"[name]-chan! I haven't heard from you in a week! How are you?" She's smiling brightly, all too happy to greet you.

He hasn't told her a damn thing.

Your lip wobbles. You are not crying to her about Noya. No way in hell.

"I'm okay, Rina-san. I'm sorry I haven't texted you back."

"No need for apologies." She shakes her head, looking you over with a motherly sort of concern that isn't doing your emotional state any favors. "When are you coming over for dinner?"

"I don't know," you reply. "Can I, um, can I get some chicken?"

"Of course." She moves towards one of the cases. "Is everything okay?"

"I—yeah, I just—" Fuck. She just had to fucking ask.

Rina pauses. Straightens her posture. "Sweetheart, does this have anything to do with the fact that Yuu's stopped talking about you?"

"He has?" you ask, your voice breaking. "That's, um—yeah. It does."

"Do you wanna talk about what happened?"

"No. I'm sorry. It's just—y-you shouldn't get my story, Noya's your son, I don't—"

"Sweetheart. Are you saying no because you don't want me to help, or are you saying no because you think I shouldn't help?"

"…because you shouldn't."

She hums thoughtfully. "I see. Well, how about you let me decide how I should use my time?"

"…okay."

"Great. Then, I'm going to help the crying girl standing in my shop, okay? So why don't you tell me what's going on?"

You let out a wet laugh. "I see where Noya—Nishinoya-senpai gets it from. I think he's pulled that exact logic on me before."

"Here, come sit behind the counter with me."

You nod. Pull up a chair from where she points it out, set down your grocery bags in the walk-in cooler and your school bag by your feet. You tell her in weak tones about the fight, about your new boyfriend, everything painted in what you hope to be a good light for Noya. She watches you with cold eyes, a furrowed brow, a puzzle to solve. Lets you cry, lets you get to the end of your story.

"S-so, if you hate me now—"

"Never, sweetheart. You're young. You're learning. You're a very mature young lady, but that doesn't mean I or anyone else should hold you to any higher standards than any other teenager. In my experience, usually the more mature kids are the ones that need the most grace."

"Please don't take my side," you whisper. "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me I messed up. Tell me that I—that he's moving on to someone who actually deserves him."

"He's going to live, honey. He's a strong boy."

"I told him I was gonna end up hurting him. He didn't listen."

"Otoo-san raised me and my kids to run towards that possibility. It doesn't always work out, but getting hurt is still valuable." She hums, wiping down a counter. "It's a learning experience for the both of you."

"I don't feel like I'm learning. I feel like I'm poisonous."

"Well, let me ask you this—why are you so worried about Yuu right now?"

"What? I care about him. He's my best friend, I—"

She tilts her head. "Is that really all there is to it?"

Ugh.

You wish people would stop being able to read you so well.

"…is he doing okay?"

"He will be. But, um, if you're looking for a way you can help out without wedging your way in…" Her shoulders drop. "We… think Soba got out last night. I'm not sure Yuu knows yet. He was in such a rush this morning, and he's been at school and practice so he hasn't been checking his phone, so… I don't want to press him or stress him out. He's been taking the news about my ex-husband much harder than I wanted to expect…"

Your chest hurts suddenly. You choose not to mention the part where he has no practice today and focus on the more important thing. "Is anyone out looking for her?"

She nods. "Satsuki and Mei should be. Kaede's got some networking thing today that she couldn't get out of, and, well, I'm here."

"I'll look for her," you blurt. "Text me if you find her so I don't run around for nothing, but—let me get these groceries home and I'll—"

She grabs your bags from the walk-in, hands them to you with a smile. "We'll keep you updated."

When you get home, you find that a bag has been mysteriously added on top of your groceries—two pounds of chicken, more than you ever order and definitely not paid for.

You don't have time to feel guilty. You have a cat to look for.

~

5a. Focus your efforts elsewhere

You realize, a little bit into the search, that it's supposed to rain today. You don't really have an umbrella with you, or a raincoat, for that matter—all you do have is a thick, canvas tote bag you use to carry groceries, freshly emptied because you thought it would be heavy-duty enough to carry a possibly upset cat all the way home without her getting hurt or struggling to breathe.

You're not sure how long it takes to find her, just that it's getting dark and you're more than a few streets away from your neighborhood. You haven't run into Satsuki or Mei at all—at one point, you thought you heard them calling for Soba, which had been your cue to turn down a different street.

You're not avoiding them. This is more efficient.

And then, as the first drops of rain hit your head, you hear a meow above the sound of your shaking treat bag. You stop, look around for the source.

"Soba?" you call out tentatively.

Another meow, this time much more insistent. You follow it. You know that meow.

"Soba! I'm coming, baby."

The house is fully surrounded by a wall. It's also for sale, and seems to be empty. The gate around back, where Soba is calling to you as the drizzle persists, doesn't budge. Through the iron, you can see why—a stuck handle on the other side, too difficult to move from your side but probably able to be handled from the inside. You, in all your years of playing video games, see this as a puzzle to solve, and solve it you do: a tree nearby, a branch leaning out over the backyard.

You take a peek around. No one in sight—no one watching. At the very least, no one to see up your skirt on your way up.

You push your sleeves up to your elbows and begin to climb.

~

5b. Seek closure

Yuu can't focus. He feels like shit. He tried, he really did. Maybe broke a rule or two to get some solo practice in since the gym was technically open only to give up on it way too quickly. No one blames him—there's an upcoming practice match, but they all heard what Yachi and Kiyoko had to say.

(It bothers her way more than she's willing to admit, I think.)

So he packs up. He heads home, scrolling through his notifications and struggling to read any of them. Come home early tonight if you can.

(Oh, here it is: "If he acted around other people the way he is when it's just us, other people would see the appeal immediately and I wouldn't have to worry about this, because he'd have a prettier partner who absolutely adores him.")

He scrolls. He has to talk to you. Considers a call, a text. Fuck, even just a silent picture of Soba without context. A wordless way to say, hey, my sister said you looked miserable yesterday, I hope this makes you feel better. A wordless way to say, I love you, I'm serious, come back to me. A wordless way to say, I'm sorry, feel better, come over for dinner.

(She's scared, Nishinoya-san. She's just really scared.)

He pauses at a new text in the family group chat.

Okaa-san: [name]-chan stopped by the shop and I let her know the situation

Okaa-san: she's joined the search

Yuu pauses, mind racing.

Yuu: *what* search

Okaa-san: oh, good, you're out of practice

Okaa-san: soba got out.

Oh. Oh no.

Yuu: what??? how???

Okaa-san: not sure. Kaede went to feed her since you were running late, but she never ate her dinner last night. We couldn't find her anywhere in the house.

Okaa-san: Mei, Satsuki, and [name]-chan are out looking for her now

Yuu: shit

Yuu: I'll start looking. On the way home now

It's too much. This is too much. The asshole father, the fight with you, your new boyfriend and now Soba—

He might throw up. He thinks this is what a panic attack is—heart in his throat, mind racing nonstop, a lurch in his stomach like he's going to throw up. He can't take anymore, dammit—

Okay, breathe. Try to—what was that thing you did for Shouyo that one time? Something about focusing on senses to calm down?

He looks to the sky, tries to focus on what he sees there, on keeping his legs moving and noticing like… clouds or trees, or whatever.

September has insisted on being grey this year. The sky has been persistent with it. You'd call it gloomy, the sky threatening rain but never delivering. Probably joke about what a coward it's being. Or the fact that it's finally grown a spine—as he looks up, he feels the first drops of water hit his face. He guesses he's supposed to focus on the sensation, the smell—also like rain—and the sounds.

The rain picks up its pace, and so does Yuu. He'll have to grab an umbrella, maybe an extra or two to give to the girls if he runs into them while searching. Maybe throw up in the bathroom before he sets out.

Focus on the sensory. Breathe.

He's two houses down from his own when he recognizes the low roll of thunder.

He's got his key in the door, mind racing with thoughts of Soba hiding under a porch, wet and hungry and scared of the thunder, when he recognizes the familiar shriek.

He turns in time to see you—running at full speed, hugging a tote bag to your chest. He searches for the danger, finds it in the absolute wall of rain that seems to be chasing you specifically. You could probably have made it to your porch in time, but you run straight past your own house and towards Yuu as the rain engulfs you. The next thing he knows, there you are, standing in front of him, soaking wet and gasping for air.

"Um," he says, because for the first time in maybe his entire life, he's speechless. The usual marry me rests on his tongue, but he can't say that now. He holds it back, searching for anything else to say, anything at all.

You look up at him, chest heaving. You're half-buckled over, unwilling to let go of the suspiciously moving bag in your arms, and—

He regains his words all at once. "Are those leaves in your hair?"

You blink slowly. "Are… are they?"

He reaches up, carefully untangles what proves to be a whole twig with leaves attached. "Twigs, actually."

"Oh," you say.

The two of you stare at each other for a compressed eternity. For some reason, Yuu holds onto the twig. You keep your arms around the wriggling bag, which has begun to yell in a suspiciously familiar tone.

"I, uh… I found your cat," you try awkwardly.

Yuu slumps, leans against the door as the first laugh leaves him. Before very long at all, he's shaking with laughter, sliding down to sit as he takes it all in.

You manage to look embarrassed. "Wh-what're you laughing at?"

He shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair. "Thanks for looking for her," he manages before collapsing into more laughter. He can't stop replaying the sight of you screaming and running from the rain, can't stop looking at the leaves tangled in your hair.

"No, don't ignore me—why are you laughing—"

"Nothing, nothing!"

A giggle passes your lips, and then you're slumping to the ground to join him. He thinks maybe it's the relief—you're here, Soba's here, he can talk to you and fix this. The knot that's sat in his chest all week loosens. All that's left is laughter between you as he reaches out to untangle more leaves from your hair.

"Okay, so, um," you force out between your own giggles. "I did find Soba, but she was… she wasn't willing to come with me alone."

He catches his breath a moment, tilts his head with sparkling eyes. "Oh?"

You reach into the bag. Soba darts out, tackles Yuu directly in the chest, purring up a storm. He holds her, keeps a finger looped in her collar while you speak in soft words to the bag. Then, you're straightening, brandishing a kitten—black and orange mixed together, bright eyes looking around as he squeaks indignantly.

Marry me, he nearly says, watching you steady the kitten against your chest.⁴⁹

"He was curled up with her," you explain quietly. "He doesn't look like he has a family or anything, and she wasn't willing to let him go, so I just took them both."

Marry me, he wants to say, holding the cat that saved his favorite sister's life, held his family together for so long. You giggle as Soba greets him insistently, demanding kisses in the form of repeatedly bashing her head against his mouth, hard enough to hurt a little. He obliges, peppering her head in kisses.

"Someone missed you," you say between laughs. "I'm jealous."

Marry me, he doesn't say. All he does is laugh.

6. Find reasons to laugh.

Chapter Text

34 - it could be us

7. Confront the problem directly

Something feels wrong about wearing Noya's clothes now. You weren't given much choice—the other option was to stay in your soaked uniform, dripping water on his floor, and ignore the fact that your shirt was white and Noya would be unable to stop staring at your chest the entire time.

Needless to say, you both need the ability to focus.

So, his shirt and a pair of his shorts it is. That, and a towel draped over your head, covering your still-wet hair.

"You know, Kaede probably wouldn't mind you borrowing the hair dryer," he says when he sees you. He's set up on the couch, tucked into the corner to wait for you. "I don't think she'd care at all."

"Normally, maybe, but, I mean…" You shift on your feet a little, eyes scanning the room. "Where're the babies?"

He nods to the kitchen. "Eating. Not sure how old the little one is, but I gave them both wet food to be safe."

You sigh. "Probably too young for adult kibble, at any rate. Young enough that I'm not sure he'd have made it through the rain without her."

"Or without you." He nods. Pats the couch beside him. He's got the first aid kit now, and you immediately understand what he's asking for. "Come on, sit. Let's take a look."

"It's fine," you protest weakly, hiding your arm behind your back. "It's just a scrape."

"Please, [name]-san."

The scrape in question happens to stretch the length of your forearm. You don't have a good excuse—a tree climbed, a branch not quite willing to hold your weight, just the wrong movement on the way down. You'd ignored it as long as you could, planning to clean it yourself once you returned Soba home, once you'd figured out what to do with the baby. You can handle a little scrape. It barely even bled.

But here's Noya, looking at you, pleading to let him take a look, and you find that you don't have the heart to fight him on this.

So you sit down. You hold out your arm. You let Noya take your hand and reach for the first aid kit. "How did this happen?" he murmurs.

He's so quiet. The wrong kind of quiet.

"They were on the back porch of this house for sale, a few streets over. The gate was stuck from my side, but there was a tree over the wall, so I just climbed it and figured I could get the gate open from inside."

"And…?"

He dabs at the scrape with disinfectant. You hiss, clenching a fist. "And I was right. I just sort of wasn't all that graceful on the dismount."

"You could've been seriously hurt."

"Why do you care? You're fine with danger and risk and all that when it comes to literally anyone else. Encourage it, even."

"I think you know why." He pauses, brushing a thumb over an older injury—one of the little cuts you've accrued over the week. "What happened here?"

There's nine of these little injuries—mostly small cuts, but there's a burn or two in the mix. Together, you'll admit that they look pretty bad.

"Accident." Your voice is quiet, and now you're not convinced, yourself.

They were, though. They were all accidents.

"You accidentally shredded your hands?"

"First cooking lesson: don't use a knife when you're distracted."

He gently turns your wrist, inspects the injuries. "That's a lot of distractions."

"I've had a lot on my mind."