Work Text:
“Mine!” The sound of the ball smacking the hardwood floor follows the captain’s call. And following that, a profuse apology.
“Sorry, I’m sorry. My receives are really sucking today.”
Kageyama waves off the apology. “Don’t mind. Get the next one.”
He hits the next serve between Yamaguchi and Hinata, who quickly bumps the ball in the setter’s direction.
Hinata gives him a sheepish grin. “Oh, my bad, Yama! I guess my reflexes took over.”
“Mm. Don’t worry, I just need to be quicker I guess.” The smile he tacks on to the statement as an afterthought is a poor imitation of the vibrant one that usually adorns Yamaguchi’s freckled cheeks, and it nags at Kageyama like when one of his shoes is tied tighter than the other.
Something’s up with Yamaguchi. Kageyama doesn’t know what, exactly, but he can tell that something is weighing on his captain’s mind. Yamaguchi laughs it off and they continue with the service drill, but Kageyama keeps a watchful eye on him. It’s pretty much second nature to him at this point, observing his teammates like this. Not only is it necessary, but in many ways he’d consider it a privilege to be the spectator of their journeys and growth.
Over the past two years, he’s seen Yamaguchi go from uncertain of himself to determined and driven, taking the torch Ennoshita passed to him and proudly wearing the captain’s jersey. The air around him now is one of confidence and reliability, lifting his teammates up in favor of tearing himself down.
That’s how it’s supposed to be.
But today, it’s not just once that Yamaguchi’s plays are punctuated with apologies. A broken receive is immediately followed by, “Sorry, that would’ve lost us a point.” Nowhere to be found is the captain that would have brushed it off and taken the opportunity to praise his teammate with a, “Great serve! I’ll get it next time.”
It’s as if Yamaguchi has reverted to a past version of himself that Kageyama thought was gone for good and Kageyama wants to know why and if he somehow needs to intervene.
In times like this, Kageyama feels his role as an observer is less of a privilege and more of a responsibility. But it’s not as if he dislikes responsibility.
He’s a setter. Responsibility is what he lives and breathes.
At least when it comes to volleyball, that is.
Yamaguchi and Tsukishima used to joke that aside from volleyball, Kageyama’s head was horribly empty. (Tsukishima took it a step further by saying that instead of the four lobes, his brain must be divided into bump, set, spike, and block.) Along with a collection of report cards as evidence (though they have been steadily improving), there have been at least a handful occurrences that may have lent the joke some truth, the setter seemingly oblivious to the world outside the court.
In just one memorable instance, it was the then third-years’ graduation at the end of Kageyama’s own second year, Kiyoko showed up as Tanaka’s girlfriend and Kageyama sent the team into hysterics when he expressed that he had no recollection of Tanaka showing any special interest in their former team manager. “Obviously he’s always held a high opinion of her, but I don’t see why that means I should have been aware of his dating intentions.” He still doesn’t entirely understand why his ignorance on the matter was such a big deal.
While Kageyama can understand now why he has been considered somewhat “head-empty” (to borrow Yamaguchi’s words) when it came to dealings with people in the past, he and his fellow third-years would attest to his growth and progress in this area since his first-year.
He’s learned that his growth as a setter required from him growth as a teammate and growth as a friend. With Sugawara, Akaashi, and Oikawa just to name a few of Kageyama’s models of what a setter could look like, he’s committed himself to becoming proficient in connecting with people, developing strategies for gauging his teammates’ emotional states just as well as the physical. As uncomfortable as it made him to practice those interactions with his teammates, there was no way he was going to hold himself back from becoming the setter he’s destined to be.
Some of his teammates describe his early attempts at connecting with his team as endearing, but he remembers them as clumsy and awkward. Tsukishima loves to tease him, saying how he wishes he could have recorded and immortalized the multiple times when Kageyama’s initial tries at fist bumps were mistaken for punches. (Yachi and Kageyama have agreed to no fist bumps, but yes to waist-height low-fives or handshakes.) He jumps at any opportunity to show the first-years their “cool vice-captain” looking like a fool. For all of Tsukishima’s antagonistic provocations off and (increasingly less) on the court, however, the middle blocker and setter move like parts of the same efficient machine, seamlessly pushing and guiding one another to where they need to be.
Kageyama has gone from puppeteer to conductor, his teammates the orchestra, collaboration among them both tacit and explicit as they create a symphony of attack on the court. Maybe his high-fives still miss their mark every so often, and maybe his praise takes a beat longer than feels natural, but he’s come into his own style of leadership, winning his teammates over with his unembellished and straightforward way of speaking, instilling confidence in them by casually doling out praise with the conviction of someone presenting simple facts.
His way of connecting with his teammates has come a long way from his nightmare smile, as Hinata likes to call it (and still won’t stop doing impressions of), and he thinks it’s made him a better setter and hopefully a good vice-captain. Though, his increased closeness with the team did not mean a decrease in teasing from them. In fact, it had quite the opposite effect. He’s grown accustomed to the good-natured jokes as they seem to be a favorite form of affection among his teammates. The banter keeps everyone’s energy up and it shows that they’re being attentive to one another.
So, when Kageyama’s attempt at a jump float serve goes into the net and the good-natured giggles that he’s learned to expect alongside Tsukishima’s snickers are absent, it only further confirms to him that Yamaguchi really is more in his head at practice today.
Gone is his unwavering focus on the growth of the team and in its place is an ever increasing focus on himself and his own errors. Kageyama stays vigilant.
Yamaguchi gives Kageyama his pointers, but not without an (unnecessary) apology and a (even more unnecessary) knock on his supposedly “terrible teaching skills.” Kageyama and the rest of the team do their part to counter Yamaguchi’s self criticism with reassurances and lighthearted jokes to communicate that they won’t dwell on his mistakes, and neither should he.
“Kageyama sucking and having one fewer serve than Miya Atsumu isn’t an indication of your teaching skills, Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima could work more on his affirmations, Kageyama thinks. At least he tries.
Still, he wonders if Yamaguchi realizes that he’s been a large part in creating a supportive environment at their practices. More than half of the affirmations that fly around either come from him, or are being repeated by those who heard them from him first.
Kageyama is filled with the need to communicate to Yamaguchi that his team has his back and that they will always show up for him, just as they know he would for them. He gives the boy’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, offers words of encouragement in the empty spaces between drills. It’s not a solution, but he’s hoping his efforts might lighten whatever burden Yamaguchi’s carrying around today, even just a little.
Practice still finishes without a hitch, as far as the rest of the team is concerned. Yamaguchi comes back to his reliable, confident self when he addresses and dismisses the team, but Kageyama still wants to check in with him and see where he’s at emotionally.
When they’re changing in the club room he lets Yamaguchi know he wants to talk to him about something, and they tell Tsukishima and Hinata to go on ahead without them today.
“You’re having another super secret captain talk without us!” He scrunches up his nose. “You guys suck!” Hinata complains, with no real malice behind the words.
“No, I actually feel bad for Kageyama,” Tsukishima stage-whispers to Hinata behind his hand, “Of course, Yamaguchi’s nice enough to wait to do it in private, but Kageyama’s sad attempts at a jump floater had to get roasted eventually.” Again, Kageyama’s learned to recognize when Tsukishima’s doing his best to lighten his friend’s mood, an admirable feat since he only seems to know how to communicate in snark.
Hinata slumps exaggeratedly.“That only makes me feel even more left out, I love a good Kageyama roast sesh!”
“Shut up, Hinata, you barely started getting your regular serves over the net and even then, they never land in the court,” Kageyama retorts.
“Both of your serves are getting better,” Yamaguchi asserts, putting the stopper on their bickering that could go on for literal hours if left unchecked. “Now, me and Kageyama really do need to talk in private, so you guys can go first or we can, but it’s your choice if you wanna let Kageyama beat you to the front gate, Hinata.”
Hinata gasps and decides this victory is worth missing out on finding out whatever his captain and vice-captain have to talk about.
Tsukishima follows him out with a “See you tomorrow” tossed over his shoulder. Kageyama knows by now that Tsukishima is way more nosy than he pretends to be, and he’s only leaving so easily because he assumes he’ll get a play-by-play from Yamaguchi before the end of the day. He’s learned as much after a certain training camp where he slipped in the showers in front of Yamaguchi only to have to endure Tsukishima’s jabs and pointed warnings not to fall on his face the entire day after.
The sound of the door closing resounds throughout the almost-empty room, and the noise from just moments ago is replaced with silence.
Yamaguchi takes a seat next to Kageyama on the bench, shoulders tight and hands gripping the edge of the seat like he’s bracing himself, and starts the conversation himself.
“So, what’s up?” It looks as if he’s trying for a smile, but the tension around his eyes betrays some uneasiness beneath the surface.
Kageyama goes with what he thinks is one of his strengths, which is straightforwardness and candor. “I think you were off at practice today.”
Yamaguchi winces and he fidgets with the hair tie around his wrist, flustered. “Sorry. I guess I was, huh?”
Kageyama feels frustration build at seeing his friend draw into himself. “That’s what I mean. You kept saying ‘sorry,’ and you seemed distracted. Is there something wrong with you?” He shakes his head, unhappy with his wording. “I mean, is everything okay, Yamaguchi?”
Yamaguchi’s eyes widen a fraction and then he breaks into a smile, tension leaving his body as he lets out a sigh.
“You’re getting too good at reading people, Kageyama.” When Kageyama’s eyes narrow as he tries to decipher whether that was a criticism, Yamaguchi clarifies, “It’s a good thing, don’t worry. I guess you deserve an explanation for what you saw from me today.” Kageyama frowns. He doesn’t feel like he’s owed anything. And he doesn’t want Yamaguchi to feel like he has to explain himself every time he’s having an off day.
“You don’t have to explain. If you don’t want to. I would like to know, if you want to tell me. I want to know how you’re feeling.”
Yamaguchi gives him a sheepish sort of smile. “It’s kind of dumb.” Kageyama is about to protest, but Yamaguchi corrects himself. “No, it’s not dumb. I’m just feeling ashamed of myself, I guess.” Kageyama narrows his eyes at this, but lets him continue. “You know how they’ve been calling in seniors for career counseling, right?”
“Right,” he nods, following along. He briefly recalls his own, wherein his V-League offers coupled with the schools rise in reputation due to the accomplishments of the volleyball team made a solid case for his secure future, and made his meeting short and sweet.
“Well, I had a meeting with my counselor today and she said some things that made me feel like…” He tilts his head back, blinking a few times, then takes a shaky breath. He lets his head hang forward and examines his hands in his lap. “This is gonna sound bad to someone who loves volleyball so much, but it made me feel like I’m wasting my time playing volleyball?” His voice goes up at the end, like a question.
“What did she say?”
“She basically said that I could be going for better universities if I wasn’t playing volleyball, especially since I’m not planning on playing professionally after graduation.”
Kageyama shakes his head. “I don’t understand. Why do those words make you feel ashamed of yourself? How does that mean you’re wasting your time?”
“I’m ashamed because it’s kinda true. I’m sacrificing chances at a better future to be playing volleyball. I’m not like you or Hinata, getting ready to play in world leagues. I’m just going to college. I could be spending my time doing more exam prep. And then I feel more ashamed because I’m supposed to be the captain. How am I supposed to be leading the team when I’m thinking of volleyball as a waste of time?”
Kageyama takes a moment to figure out who those words remind him of. When he realizes it, he laughs to himself. Memories from an earlier Karasuno, when they were just getting their bearings and learning to fly, come to the forefront of Kageyama’s mind. When it comes down to it, despite their outer appearances, Yamaguchi is quite similar to his best friend. He guesses it makes sense that they’re so close. He thinks he knows what direction to take this in now.
“First of all, do you know who you sound like right now?”
Yamaguchi lifts his head to look at Kageyama in confusion. “Huh?”
“You sound like a certain salty blond from our first year.”
He tilts his head in question. “Tsukki?”
“Didn’t he talk to those guys at Nekoma and Fukurodani about this exact thing? Talking about how volleyball’s ‘just a club’ and so why should he be trying so hard playing it?”
Yamaguchi’s eyes seem to search the lockers in front of them. Finally, he laughs. “Wow. You’re… dead on with that one.”
“Oh good, you do remember.”
“It would be hard not to. That was the first time Tsukki called me cool.” Kageyama didn’t know that. Interesting. He considers adding ‘get Tsukishima to call me cool’ to his list of goals, but he’s unsure if that might be too ambitious. Now that he’s jogged Yamaguchi’s memory, though, he needs to make sure he gets what he’s trying to say.
“And do you remember what you told him to make him say that?” He nods. “Exactly. And maybe you already know this, but let me remind you. You went out and found Shimada-san on your own. On top of tutoring me and Hinata, you made extra time to learn your killer serve. And even now, you’re spending time teaching me. I’m learning something valuable from you.” He levels his gaze with Yamaguchi’s. “Now, tell me. Is volleyball a waste of your time?”
Yamaguchi clenches and opens his fist. Kageyama thinks if he ran his fingers over that palm, he’d find calluses to match his own. He’d find evidence of thousands of hours of putting hand to ball, hand to floor with every dive, every time he’s picked himself back up after falling. Kageyama wonders just how many points he’s gotten for Karasuno with that hand, how many matches was it where he turned the tides simply with his own strength. He can’t even count.
“No,” he says, resolute. “I give my time to volleyball because I love it, and I love the team. It doesn’t matter if I don’t play it forever.” He smiles. “In fact, that’s all the more reason for me to be giving it my all now.”
Kageyama searches for a response, one that will properly show his support and relief that Yamaguchi has found a new resolve. During his deliberation, Yamaguchi decides the next action for him. He wraps an arm around Kageyama in a quick side hug. The action comes as a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. He adds ‘initiating hugs’ to his list of things to work on. “Thanks, Kageyama. I honestly feel a lot better now.” The relief is visible in how relaxed his face is compared to before. “I don’t know what I was so worried about. I hope I didn’t waste your time with this.”
“Mm, I didn’t do anything, really. And you know, it’s never a waste of time. To check on you. And sometimes, you just need someone to say... Say…” He thinks back to so many times his peers and his mentors have given him their time and their words to help pick him back up and help him land on his feet. What did their words have in common? Yamaguchi watches him, nodding as if to say, “You’re good, I’m listening,” and letting him finish. He appreciates this, even if he isn’t always happy with how his words come out. It makes him feel like talking is worth the effort. “To give a different perspective. But yeah. It. Wasn’t anything special.”
Yamaguchi ignores his deflection and barrels on with his appreciation. “Kageyama! When did you get so wise? I hope you know you said exactly what I needed to hear, okay? You’re the best vice-captain ever!” He feels his cheeks warm at the blatant praise.
“I don’t know, Sugawara-senpai and Tanaka-senpai were pretty good.”
“Look who’s being all modest now,” Yamaguchi snickers. “I mean it, though. I’m a better captain thanks to you.” Another display of Yamaguchi’s well-developed skill of doling out compliments. Seriously, the way he looks people in the eye and says things like this with an unwavering voice just baffles Kageyama. He can’t find anything appropriate to respond with at the moment. He stands abruptly, grabbing his duffel bag from the floor.
“Okay, we should be going home, it’s getting late.” Yamaguchi laughs and does the same, and they make one last pass of the club room to be sure everything’s in order before they finally turn out the lights and start on their way home.
As they walk, Yamaguchi makes conversation about updates on their graduated seniors who are still playing volleyball, the underclassmen’s progress, and new attack formations he’s excited to try in upcoming games. This is the Yamaguchi he’s used to, enthusiastic and also considerate enough to keep the topics to things Kageyama finds easy to talk about. Kageyama thinks it's amazing how he never runs out of good things to say about people. It makes it even more entertaining when he makes playful jokes about his friends.
"I think Tsukki is a bit jealous of Satoshi-kun for having a higher jumping reach even though they’re the same height.” He lowers his voice as if divulging a secret, “Don’t tell either of them this, but the other day he was ranting and he said,” Yamaguchi makes his hands into circles and holds them up to his eyes like glasses, frowning as he does an impression of Tsukishima, “he said, ‘Anyone could have a reach like that if they had his gorilla arms.’”
Yamaguchi cracks up at his own impression and his laughter is contagious enough to draw a smile out of Kageyama.
“Oh, but don’t worry, I told him it’s not nice to say his teammate has gorilla arms. Especially not when he has his own set of orangutan arms and giraffe legs.” He cracks up again and Kageyama thinks he likes seeing his friend having so much fun. Yamaguchi continues his storytelling, with Kageyama humming or interjecting with questions periodically.
Now that he thinks of it, this is the first time he’s ever walked home with Yamaguchi alone. It’s not awkward or uncomfortable at all, and he thinks back to his isolated days at Kitagawa Daiichi. Back then he couldn’t have fathomed walking home with a friend and enjoying it so much. He’s glad that the Kageyama of back then trusted in his grandfather’s words, that his journey to become stronger really has brought him to people like Yamaguchi and Hinata and all the teammates who let him play his favorite sport over and over again. He thinks his younger self would be amazed to see where he is now.
Eventually they come to the intersection where they split off into their different directions home. The air has turned brisk as the sun disappeared below the horizon. Despite the slight chill, Kageyama feels himself heating up as he prepares the words he’s finally come up with to communicate to Yamaguchi what he’s been feeling since they’ve left the club room. Perhaps even before then. He doesn’t know if they’re adequate, but if this nebulous feeling of gratitude can at least take some sort of form he thinks he can give the words a try.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Kageyama!” He’s turning away when Kageyama calls out to him.
“Yamaguchi.”
“Hm?” Yamaguchi stops and waits as Kageyama takes a deep breath.
He looks him in the eye and says, “We’re a better team thanks to you. And I think I’m a better friend thanks to you, too.” The words are simple, but they’re honest.
Yamaguchi grins and thrusts out his fist.
Kageyama looks at his own fist. He goes over what he’s learned from his past attempts at fist bumps so far. First, eye-contact is essential. Second, it’s not a punch. And third, fill it with gratitude for everything so far, and a promise for everything to come.
And Kageyama gives him what he thinks is his best fist bump ever.