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He was back.
Ushijima’s gaze drifted over to the benches lining the wall of the local rec center’s gym, where he and his friends descended every Sunday to try out new stuff outside of practice. For the past few months, he noticed a pair of eyes following him like a hawk, a sharp attention span unmistakably fixed on them.
To his right, Tendou said, “If you keep looking at him like that, he’s going to think you’re nuts.”
“He is nuts,” Kawanishi muttered.
Ushijima brushed off the comments as confusing and instead let his mind dwell on their visitor. The boy was around their age — maybe a little younger by a couple of years — with jet black hair and an expression one could easily categorize as constipated. He sat with his hands fisted on his lap, eyes never wavering from their group while the ball was in play.
Between volleys, his brow would scrunch and he would stare off into space like he was in another universe, or he would sip at the sports drink sitting next to him on the bench. Here and there, he would do both at once and swallow wrong.
Why he noticed that at all, Ushijima had no idea.
That day, however, the end of their volleyball season for the year coupled with lingering curiosity got the better of him, so Ushijima approached the other boy and towered over him.
Under Ushijima’s shadow, he looked up without blinking, eyes a vivid blue Ushijima couldn’t miss at this level of proximity. Suddenly, Blue Eyes was clicking away at his phone screen until he held it up for Ushijima to see.
Am I bothering you?
“No?” Ushijima said, unsure what was occurring between them. “Why do you watch us?”
Again, Blue Eyes typed out a response. I like volleyball and you’re interesting to watch.
“Oh.” Ushijima’s nose wrinkled as he considered the answer. Only then did something entirely different occur to him. “Are you deaf?” Blue Eyes nodded. “Oh. Sorry.”
Shrugging, Blue Eyes keyed a new reply. For what? It is what it is.
Ushijima frowned and looked down into his lap. “I’m not doing this right.” His eyes flew wide open when Blue Eyes grabbed his chin and forced his gaze back over to him.
I can’t understand what you’re saying if you look away.
A hint of a smile twitched at the corners of Ushijima’s lips. Blue Eyes was forthright and confident, two attributes he valued in others. His earlier irritation gone, he asked, “What is your name? I’m Ushijima.”
I know. I’m Kageyama.
Finally able to put a name to the face, Ushijima thought that name suited his newest acquaintance. “Do you play?”
This time, Kageyama looked away. After a dragging lack of communication, he finally responded. I do as much as I’m allowed. My school doesn’t let me play because they say it’s too dangerous. They don’t care that I can feel the people around me and I’ve never missed a step.
“What position do you play?”
Setter.
“Are you good?”
Yes.
A prickle of excitement raced up his spine. Kageyama was confident, and as a wing spiker and an ace, Ushijima was eager to get a taste of it. “Do you want to play with us?” No text was necessary to see the spark of delight that raced through Kageyama. “Get warmed up.”
When he returned to his teammates, Ushijima said flatly, “He’s playing with us.”
“Eh, what?” Tendou shook his head and chortled. “What brought that on?”
Ushijima resumed his place on the court and rolled his shoulders. “I want to see if he’s as good as he claims to be.”
Oohira quirked a brow. “You’re picking a fight with a deaf guy?”
“No. Just accepting a challenge.” Ushijima squared up before he absorbed Oohira’s statement. “How did you know he’s deaf?”
“What, you didn’t?” Semi sighed and clapped Ushijima on the shoulder. “I’ve seen him signing over Facetime with some woman at least three times in the changing room. It’s not a hard hurdle to jump.”
Chuckling, Tendou threw an arm around Ushijima’s shoulders. “Wakatoshi-kun uses all his brain cells for volleyball.”
“Do not,” Ushijima argued half-heartedly, but there was too much truth in Tendou’s statement to argue it. He couldn’t deny he was on the oblivious side when it came to interaction off the court.
Kageyama joined them while stretching his shoulders, and Ushijima waited for a round of introductions. Kageyama winced and so did Ushijima when Goshiki shouted a greeting. At least he wasn’t that bad.
Having lost Shirabu for the afternoon to family obligations, Kageyama took his place for a four on four match.
The usual vocalizations found between the Shiratorizawa squad on court wouldn’t help with Kageyama, but it was quickly apparent there was no need. Laser-like focus followed every player on the court on both sides, read the words on their faces in their eyes long before their mouths did the work.
Ushijima inhaled sharply as the ball was set to come to him for the first time since he rotated into the front row. Starting his run-up, Ushijima drew back his left hand and swung without looking. The pleasing sting of leather hitting his palm was quickly followed by the sound of ball slapping the floor on the other side, with Oohira sprawled out in a failed attempt at a dig.
Nobody was going to stop that shot, and when Ushijima looked over at Kageyama, there was no doubt both of them knew it from the moment the ball was set.
Panic flared on Kageyama’s face when Tendou threw an arm around his shoulders, but he soon relaxed beneath it. The sight made Ushijima chortle. It wasn’t so long ago when Ushijima did the same thing under the bright light of Tendou’s gregarious nature.
The rest of their practice session wore on well past their usual quitting time, but nobody indicated they had any desire to do so. Ushijima certainly didn’t. Kageyama’s entire being exuded such pure joy while at play that it ignited a fire in his own belly he was loath to put out too soon.
Finally, grumbling bellies and murmurs of neglected homework won out, and the group dispersed. In the changing room, Ushijima lingered on the bench next to Kageyama. Finally, Kageyama looked up from his bag, and Ushijima said, “Will you come next week?”
Kageyama’s eyes widened, and he nodded. His hands moved quickly in front of him, excitement overruling the knowledge that Ushijima couldn’t understand what he was signing.
Words weren’t important, though. The feeling was there, and that was something Ushijima knew well.
His Sunday evenings in the dorms usually consisted of a little bit of light reading and going to bed early, but that night was far different. Ushijima found himself up until midnight, eyes glued to his laptop as his hands worked out the initial fumblings of basic sign language greetings — a pattern that followed through the rest of the week.
For the first time in a long time, Ushijima was glad to see the the days come and go, and it did not go unnoticed. “Are you excited to see Kageyama-kun again?” Tendou asked while hanging off his own bunk, feet idly kicking in the air.
“I’m looking forward to it.” Ushijima didn’t look up from his laptop, nor did he stray from the rapidly improving motions that more closely resembled the ones on the instructional videos every time.
“Oh, I’m sure you are.” Flipping backward in a somersault before he landed on his feet, Tendou sat on the edge of Ushijima’s bed and poked his eyes over the lid of the laptop. “I know that look.”
Ushijima’s hands stumbled. “What look?”
Tendou let out a long sigh. “That one you get when you’re fixated on something. You were like this when Ace of Diamond anime, or that one time you decided to learn jump serves with your right hand.”
“This isn’t like that at all.” Ushijima shut his laptop and glared at Tendou with far less irritation than he wanted to. “We collect the strongest players in the prefecture here to play, but the only setter I’ve ever seen who is better than Oikawa was watching us from the stands because nobody would let him play. You saw him. Who needs to hear when you have raw talent and instinct like that?”
A glance over at his alarm clock noted they were rapidly approaching midnight. He slid his laptop under his bed and propped his arms atop his thighs. “I’m going to ask Washijou-kantoku to consider looking at him for next year’s scholarships.”
“I see.” Tendou bumped his shoulder against Ushijima’s. “Well, I look forward to tomorrow a little bit more, then.”
The two of them tucked into their respective beds, but Ushijima’s thoughts lingered on a set of intense eyes that radiated the same resolve that was the locomotion for Ushijima’s entire life.
One Sunday followed the next, and the high of Kageyama’s skill and drive only grew within Ushijima. However, nothing was more rewarding than the first time he signed a greeting to Kageyama.
Ushijima’s hands fell to his sides, but Kageyama didn’t move a muscle. He gawked at Ushijima, mouth hanging open, and unlike Kageyama’s usual silence, this one made him squirm. “Did I do it right?”
A warm smile far different from Kageyama’s usual blank expression spread across his face, and Ushijima’s own smile was not far behind. His breath bottled in his chest when Kageyama raised his hands and slowly signed a simple, ”Thank you."
The rest of the team started to pile into the changing room, so the two of them were swept in different directions, but there was an extra spark in Kageyama’s movements that afternoon.
Once the practice session ended, Ushijima lingered far longer than it usually took to shuck his workout gear. One glance over at Kageyama showed he wasn’t the only one. The last to leave besides them was Tendou, who spent far more time eyeballing the Ushijima and Kageyama than getting dressed.
When they were alone, Kageyama crossed the room to stand in front of Ushijima. He offered a simply signed statement: “Why?”
"You adapted to communicate with us," Ushijima replied (at least he assumed it was what he said). “It is fair that we learn to communicate with you."
Kageyama shook his head and scowled at his feet. His hands raised, and Ushijima quickly fell behind the rapid movements. He did know, however, that Kageyama was agitated about something.
Ushijima enveloped Kageyama’s hands between his own, caught off guard but not surprised by how smooth yet hardened by hours of practice they were.
It was then he realized this was the first time he had ever touched Kageyama. Tendou regularly mauled him with good-natured embraces, but Ushijima didn’t do so because he wasn’t a touchy person and could tell by the way his eyes screamed that Kageyama wasn’t, either.
Staring at Ushijima wide-eyed, Kageyama let out a shaking breath. Ushijima slowly withdrew his hands, and at a much slower pace, Kageyama keyed a response on his phone. I don’t know how to say what I want to say.
“We’ll work it out,” Ushijima said aloud. “We always do.”
Kageyama stuffed his phone back into his pocket and signed, “Can I show you?”
Of course.
Hesitant fingers reached up to cup Ushijima’s jaw, his thumb stroking the breadth of his cheek. The sensation of it made Ushijima’s heart pound like he had just sprinted an entire kilometer, and it hammered loud in his ears as Kageyama tip-toed up to crush their lips together.
My first kiss, Ushijima mused as he threw himself into it like he did with everything else: one hundred percent.
A lot of girls at school made their interest in him clear, but he had none in return. This kiss, though, latched on to his every nerve and made them vibrate. His head swam and then emptied itself of everything but this, everything but Kageyama.
And then it was over. Kageyama shrunk away, arms behind his back and his cheeks burning while he looked anywhere but at Ushijima. The rusty timbre of an ill-used voice followed. “I like you I guess.”
The usual guttural noises that came out during volleyball play could not prepare Ushijima for how those words lanced through him. His entire life, he had been the subject of both peer and adult praise and admiration. None of it compared to that simple handful of words.
Ushijima nudged his hand against the underside of Kageyama’s chin and compelled him to look at Ushijima so he didn’t miss what Ushijima had to say in reply.
“Good.”
This time, it was Ushijima’s turn to initiate contact, and it was even headier than before. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time, either.
Two Months Later
Ushijima found himself leaning in closer to his laptop while he watched Kageyama examine the letter in his hands, emblazoned with the bold seal of Shiratorizawa Academy on the front.
He hadn’t told Kageyama about recommending him for a scholarship, not wanting to create false hope in case Washijou didn’t see what Ushijima saw in him. Those doubts were over, however, when on his last day as team captain, Washijou called him into the coaching office.
“I watched the recordings you all collected and managed to catch a few matches myself,” Washijou said without preamble as soon as the door closed behind Ushijima. His hands were tucked behind his back like they always were while he stared out the window into the school’s courtyard. “He’ll get a letter.”
From that point, Ushijima had watched his messages nearly to the point of obsession once the letter was sent. He would probably be the first person Kageyama told about receiving it.
That theory had proven correct.
The Skype call had come in in the evening, and Ushijima was ready for it. None of the usual greetings started off the conversation; instead Kageyama started off showing the letter through his laptop camera. “Why did I get a letter from your school?” he signed.
“Just open it,” Ushijima replied.
After turning the letter over in his hands a few times, Kageyama did just that. His eyes widened as he read through the text, offering him a full scholarship to Shiratorizawa Academy in order to join the volleyball club.
Finally, Kageyama looked back at the camera and Ushijima. Barely fighting off a smile, Ushijima signed, “You deserve to play with the best team. Now you can.”
Ushijima started when he spied a tear streaking down Kageyama’s cheek. “Are you okay?”
Lips pursed, Kageyama nodded. His hands shook as he answered. “Did you do this?”
Ushijima shook his head. “I suggested it,” he signed, spelling it out because he couldn’t remember the correct motion for ‘suggest’. “Washijou-kantoku decided after watching you play. You did it yourself.”
Kageyama dashed away the wetness from his cheek and stared at the letter some more. “My sister will be happy. She always thought I should play.”
Recalling the handful of meetings he had with the elder Kageyama sibling, Miwa, Ushijima didn’t doubt that at all. A skillful player in her own right back when she was still in school, Miwa often ducked into their conversations to grill Ushijima about how the team was doing.
“Now you will.”
Their call ended soon after, and Ushijima lay back onto his bunk and closed his eyes. He would be graduating at the end of March and Kageyama would not start school until the beginning of the new school term in April, but somehow, they felt closer than ever.
As Ushijima prepared to step onto the professional stage, Kageyama was about to enter the high school stage for the first time. It wouldn’t be long before Kageyama followed him to that next stage because he really was that good, and it was only a matter of time before the rest of the volleyball world saw it, too.