Chapter Text
As it often happened in tragic romance novels or horror films, it was a wild storm that lead little Hinata to take shelter in his middle schools’ gymnasium.
He’d stepped out of his last class of the day and fell right in the middle of a surprise typhoon. Violent winds were shaking the roof of the bike shed, threatening to rip the tin protection clean off and the sheer force of the gale hitting his ears hurt like nothing else, It was deafening, and on top of that the lashing rain made it nearly impossible to see what was in front of him.
Hinata, being the thirteen-year-old idiot that he was, ignored the consistent warnings over the tannoy instructing students to stay out of the storm. Instead, he sprinted into the thick of it and with cold shaky hands, somehow, managed to unlock his bike from the bike shed and then lug it into the school’s gymnasium. Why did he do this? well, he rode his blue basket bike to school every day, he needed it and he knew that his mum couldn’t afford to buy him a new one. But he only rationalized his quite frankly irrational behavior afterward. In truth, his feet had moved before he’d realized it, the second he’d unlocked his bike he moved on autopilot. Why his inner autopilot led him into the gym he didn’t know, he’d only been inside it a handful of times for PE, the building had no significance to him.
Yet there he was standing inside the entryway like a drowned rat. He huffed at his own idiocy as he leaned his wet bike against a wall. He’d find a bathroom, sit under the hand dryer for a couple of minutes to warm up, and then find somewhere quiet to hide until either the typhoon was over, or his mum caved picked him up.
As far as plans went, it was one of Hinata’s better ones.
He wandered around the long dark corridors of the gym, his wet socks squelching in his shoes with every step he took, water dripping from his damp, bright orange hair onto the floor. The middle school gym was like a labyrinth to little 159.2 cm Hinata. He’d only ever been in one room, which was the weights gym, for his PE classes and there were so many rooms on the ground floor. There was a rock-climbing wall, a basketball and tennis court but all of those were locked up since it wasn’t their club day.
Hinata felt the familiar anxiety crawling into his skin the longer he remained lost, the type you feel when you turn all the lights off in the house, the type that forces you to run away from imaginary demons lurking in the shadows. Luckily, as he turned his next corner the toilets came into view. He sighed in relief, rushing toward the little blue boy on the door before the sound of yelling stopped him in his tracks. When his eyes glanced toward the sound, all anxiety seemed to fade away. At the end of the corridor two large double doors were wide open—bright yellow light poured out into the dark hallway like a light at the end of a tunnel.
Hinata being as curious as ever walked straight past the bathroom and toward the light, the closer he got he heard the clear sounds of trainers squeaking and balls bouncing, of people, laughing. Whatever sport it was sounded like fun, but he couldn’t remember whose club day it was. So of course, the only choice was to sneak a little look.
Soggy little Hinata reached the double doors and peered inside. It was a volleyball court, mid-match. He stood outside the doors and peered in, watching the players do whatever it was they were doing with wide eyes. Players were jumping and running and diving around. Sometimes they’d even give each other high tens and cheer each other on, it looked energetic…it looked fun.
The human tangerine was having a nice time, just stood watching blissfully unaware of who was winning or who was losing, until a deep voice jolted him, “Would you like a towel?” Hinata spun around and looked up to see what he presumed was a coach of some kind. The man was older, had a dirty tracksuit on and a whistle hanging around his neck. He looked like the typical absent-minded PE teacher; all be it a little on the older side. The man in question pulled out a clean, white towel from the duffel bag that was clung around him, “Here, it’s fresh out of the drier so it’ll warm you up fast.”
He pushed the towel toward Hinata and the orange-haired boy took it with a grateful bow, “Thank you sir” Hinata fretted, unfolding the soft warm material and scuffing his hair with it quickly.
The towel was damp again in an instant, but the caring teacher didn’t mind, he could always wash it again, “Are you here to watch the game?”
“Uhm” Hinata began shyly, holding onto the soggy towel around his shoulders for comfort.
Socially, he was a timid boy; he was insecure about his height and his outlandish hair colour which other kids picked on him for, it didn’t help that Hinata was also not the smartest, the boy had little to no common sense but was still incessantly curious which had landed him in hot water with teachers a few times. He was scrawny too which didn’t help, it meant he failed at every sport he’d played which only resulted in more teasing. Thirteen-year-old Hinata kept to himself, never wanting to rock the boat encase it resulted in unwanted attention from those in class that didn’t like him.
When Hinata didn’t fully reply, the older man patted him on the shoulder, a friendly and welcoming gesture, “Come on in then, I’m sure there’s room on the benches for one more.” Hinata didn’t question it, absorbed by his own curiosity, he followed closely behind the teacher nearly clipping the elder's heels once or twice, until the man suddenly sat down on a wooden bench close to the white red, and yellow lines of the court, “This is your first game I presume?” The teacher could tell it was from the way his eyes darted around, trying to watch every player at once in no order whatsoever.
Hinata nodded, “Yes” eyes following the ball like a cat to a laser pointer.
“Sitting courtside for your first game is a good omen if I ever knew one, “he laughed “What’s your name?”
“Oh! Right” he exclaimed in surprise, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t introduced himself yet, “I’m Hinata Shouyou, I’m a second year in Mr. Takeda’s homeroom class.” He told the PE teacher, bowing as he did so with an almost embarrassed glint to his eye.
“Well, it’s very nice to meet you Hinata. I hope I’ll see you around the volleyball court often from now on.” He paused, reaching underneath the bench they were sat on and pulling out a bottle of water, “I’m Mr. Ukai, I help to coach the middle school’s team.”
Hinata smiled brightly but didn’t verbally respond to Mr. Ukai. Instead, he was entranced by the game before him even though he had no clue what was going on. The ball was going so fast and so high, everyone was so tall or at least showed signs of growing up to be. The game didn’t seem so equal though, some were running around and diving headfirst after the ball while others just stood by the net and passed the ball around. Even still, watching them play made Hinata feel giddy. It was like he’d been living on a low battery and somebody had finally plugged him in.
He found himself wanting to know more about Volleyball. So, after a couple of minutes trying stubbornly to figure out what was happening on the court by himself and, understandable, getting nowhere he asked the teacher beside him, “How do you play?”
The teacher smiled at this, he was more than happy that he had the opportunity to nurse another volleyball player into the world, the sport wasn’t too popular anymore so he was in no position to let this opportunity slip away, “Well, it depends on what position you play; but simply put the first team to reach 25 points wins.”
“What about the positions?” Hinata asked eagerly.
The man once again let out a hearty laugh, “Look at the court” He instructed, happy when the boy enthusiastically obliged, “You see that player over there” He pointed, Hinata followed his finger which landed on the boy who’d kept diving for balls, “He's a libero, his job is to keep the ball in the air. So, when the other team hits the ball over, he receives it and stops them from scoring.”
Hinata hummed, “What about that one?” He asked, pointing to one of the guys that kept jumping.
“Ah” he paused, “He’s an outsider hitter, but you can say wing spiker for short, his job is to attack the ball. It’s a difficult job, you have to be able to jump high, be quick on your feet, and be ready to adapt to different situations when you’re a wing spiker.” He explained, trying to keep things incredibly simple but also interesting for the boy sat beside him.
“I like that one most” Hinata claimed with a curt nod, earning a smile from the teacher “I don’t like that one much.” He said, pointing toward the boy who was stood by the net.
“Oh, that’s the setter,” He said, “Most people want to be setters”
“Why? he isn’t moving” Hinata observed with a small confused frown. Surely the fun of volleyball would be the running around and jumping.
“Setters have the most contact with the ball, they decide which spiker gets the ball and when.” He informed him, eyes zeroing in on the setter who was currently playing, “The setter pretty much has the ability to control the whole game.”
“Oh” Although Hinata didn’t necessarily understand the sport, he could appreciate it. The more he watched, the more he caught himself watching the dark-haired setter instead of the spiker.
It was nerve-wracking to watch the boy throw the ball behind him without turning around to check if someone was there to spike it. He had to trust somebody would be there to spike it, the very concept of that gave Hinata chills. There’s no way in hell he could do something like that. There was something about watching a person do something you knew you couldn’t do, no matter how much you trained, that was scary but…in a way it was also thrilling. Hinata wanted to be there, on the court, he wanted to spike every single one of those tosses.
“Say, we have beginner classes every Friday after school, why don’t you come along?” the man suggested with a warm smiling.
“I’m not good at playing sports” Despite Hinata internalized enthusiasm about spiking the setters throws, he instantly shut down the kind man's offer, his mind pulling up horrifically embarrassing memories from past sports he’d tried, “But I’ll gladly watch and support” He suggested.
Mr. Ukai, although a little disappointed with the tangerines decision to not play, was glad Hinata wanted to tag along and watch, “In that case, we hold mini-matches here every Tuesday—” Mr. Ukai was cut off by the sharp sound of a whistle, then the few people that were watching either assented into cheers or descended into sounds of disappointed.
“Did we win?” Hinata asked frantically, head rushing from side to side as he watched the opposing teams shake hands.
“We won,” Mr. Ukai confirmed, standing up and cheering loudly with his hands cupping the sides of his mouth, some of the players seemed embarrassed by the display, “You might be a lucky charm Hinata--”
“Hinata Shouyou!” The ginger instantly stiffened at the familiar, authoritative tone. He scrambled off the bench quickly, helplessly watching as his homeroom teacher stormed toward him red-faced and out of breath, “We’ve been looking for you everywhere, You’re mothers here to pick you up.” Mr. Takeda was clearly stressed; he thought the boy had been kidnapped or something.
“Sorry, Mr. Takeda!” Hinata rushed toward the small dark-haired man leaned against the open doorway, jumping over the bench and multiple stacked up bags as he did so, “Thank you for showing me Volleyball Mr. Ukai!” Hinata exclaimed, bowing low till he was practically cut in half.
Mr. Ukai laughed that same hearty one, the one that reminded Hinata of how an old dad would laugh at his children, “I apologize for worrying you Mr. Takeda, I’ll be sure to let you know if Hinata is here in future.” Mr. Takeda sighed, grateful for the consideration of the older gentleman.
“I’ll see you on Tuesday!” Hinata yelled back to the coach, who was now surrounded by the winning team. Hinata could feel an intense stare on him when his eyes cast around the group of players…it was the setter.
He was watching Hinata getting scolded by his homeroom teacher while being dragged away from the gym. For someone who seemed so skilled on the court, the setter's face held an awkward expression somewhere between irritated and alarmed. Although the look wasn’t pleasant, it made Hinata’s heart jump in his chest.
After that day, Hinata came to watch the games every Tuesday just like he said he would. He sat high up in the stands and watched on the edge of his seat. He watched every dive, every toss, every serve, and spike intently. There was a deep passion for Volleyball growing inside of him, and every Tuesday that passion was nurtured.
However, so was another passion. A passion for one dark-haired individual, one setter who everyone referred to as the king of the court. Kageyama Tobio was a Volleyball prodigy, a true athlete in the making, and Hinata was completely entranced by him. He went to every single one of his games in middle school, and then when time caught up with him and he moved into Highschool he’d catch the bus two towns over to watch his away games. He was a complete fanboy, a closeted one sure but a fanboy none the less. He’d watched Kageyama grow into an amazing player over the years, silently cheering him on and praying for his victories.
For Hinata, there was nothing better than settling into the sofa to watch one of Kageyama’s matches.
Although times had changed from that faithful day. Hinata moved out of his small town and now was enrolled in Tokyo University studying sports therapy. He was also slightly taller at 164.8 cms but a whole lot beefier especially in the thigh and ass department. He’d grown out of his shy phase thanks to a few friends he’d made in high school, and new ones he’d made in University too. He was energetic and bold, although still hanged on the dimmer side of the intellectual spectrum. But out of all the things that’d changed most about Hinata’s life since that first encounter with Volleyball, it was the presence of Kageyama Tobio. The man who’d acted as both a sports inspiration and a gay awakening.
Kageyama Tobio, after winning the national championship tournament back in high school, walked off the court and never stepped back on. He’d vanished from the sport completely for seemingly no reason. Hinata found it silly how much the disappearance of a man he’d never even spoken to affected him, he cried for days as if he was mourning a family member. He just kept waiting for Kageyama to walk through the large double doors onto the court, praying for just one more match and to see him set one more toss, but he never did.
There was speculation from media of course, some were claiming that he’d gotten a girl pregnant and had run away with her, others said that he was secretly homosexual and was being ostracized by the Volleyball association because of it. Some even said that he’d fallen out of love with the sport and had chosen to retire. Either way, Kageyama was gone and Hinata needed to fill the void he’d left with something or risk going crazy with boredom.
So, twenty-one-year-old Hinata threw all his excess energy into studying for his degree, working out, and socializing with friends. He’d decided that his love for both Volleyball and the setter was simply a phase, like when people become obsessed with a band for a few years and then they get over it. That’s all it was now.
Kageyama Tobio was just a phase.