Chapter Text
The sky above Death City is streaked with bruised purples and crimson, the last rays of sunlight glinting off the towers of the Death Weapon Meister Academy. For Hinata Shōyō, standing atop the training yard, it is almost intoxicating—the hum of the academy pulsing through the air, the smell of ozone and metal, the faint echo of weapon forms shifting in practice. He can feel the energy, and it makes him buzz. Makes him alive.
“Idiot! Wait up!”
Kageyama’s sharp voice carries across the yard, and Hinata grins, bouncing on the balls of his feet. In an instant, he shifts into crossbow form, smooth and lethal, the metal limbs and silver tips gleaming in the fading light. The transformation always gives him a thrill. The moment Kageyama’s hands grasp him, the world narrows to their shared rhythm—the hum of tension, the thrill of resonance.
“Finally! You’re here!” Hinata calls from his form, almost vibrating with energy.
“You have to slow down!” Kageyama barks, fingers twitching with frustration. “I almost didn’t catch you that time.”
“But you did!” Hinata’s singsong teasing rings out. “We need to get some practice in before the first event!”
Kageyama groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, but a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Hinata has learned over time that this is just the way they work together: constant bickering, but precise synergy. And it works. Dangerous, chaotic, perfect synergy.
Today is DWMA’s scouting camp. A competitive event meant to sift through the sea of Meisters and weapons for formal missions—and Hinata intends to come out on top. Him and Kageyama had been training their entire lives for this – and only got stronger when they found one another in high school. They’ve spent the last four years growing from clumsy enemies to an unstoppable duo. But both of them grew restless from dealing with low level kinshin souls— they wanted to have a real challenge. Now that their mandated education was out of the way, they could pursue such a goal – together.
The two of them begin their routine, tossing a small set of weighted balls back and forth. Neither of them feels a need to practice their aim—preferring instead to work on matching their wavelengths, their teamwork. Kageyama’s passes are sharp, almost too precise, and Hinata has to leap, twist, and dive just to catch them. Every time he lands a perfect catch, Kageyama smirks, clearly proud of himself for throwing it in a way only Hinata can manage.
“Too slow,” Kageyama teases after Hinata has to make a spectacular dive to snatch a throw, rolling into a dramatic somersault—ball clutched to his chest. “I barely even had to adjust.”
“You mean you barely had to try, Tobio,” Hinata shoots back, brushing off his knees, but the hum of excitement in his chest makes him grin. “Come on, let’s see if you can handle me next.”
“You’re going down,” Kageyama replies, voice cocky, tossing another ball with a spin. “I’m way faster than you think.”
They go back and forth, sprinting, dodging, jumping, teasing each other between throws. Their warm-up isn’t just preparation—it’s a performance of rhythm, timing, and the subtle dance of trust and competitiveness that always defines them. By the time they slow, both are flushed with exertion, smiling and slightly out of breath.
Hinata’s gaze lingers on Kageyama’s face for much longer than it needs to—it always does. When he isn’t scowling, Kageyama Tobio is as beautiful as he is scary, and it makes Hinata’s heart flutter in ways he absolutely refuses to acknowledge. A high whistle interrupts his thoughts anyway, and an announcement signifies that the first event will start soon. Hinata tosses one more ball Kageyama’s way, giggling when it catches him slightly off guard.
“Asshole. I was listening to the announcement.”
“I’m just keeping you on your toes, Tobio~!”
-
When the first event begins, Hinata and Kageyama lean against the observation railing, watching the other pairs. Hinata’s hair is mussed from the warm-up, bright eyes shining with excitement, while Kageyama crosses his arms, cocky grin firmly in place.
“Look at them,” Kageyama says, nodding toward Daichi and Suga as they prepare. “Big, slow, and steady as always. They’ll do well, but we’ll be faster. Way faster.”
Hinata chuckles. “Don’t get too full of yourself, Tobio. We’ve seen Suga handle that axe. He’s stronger than he looks– and they work so well together.”
It’s true. Daichi and Suga had gone to the same high school as them both– and they were the ones who had convinced the bickering two to group together. Hinata had learned a lot from the pair… and was quite jealous of their relationship.
“Strong doesn’t always win in this game,” Kageyama shoots back, smirking. “Precision, timing, and me wielding you? That’s how we win.”
Hinata feels a thrill at the statement, the excitement of competition mixing with the warmth of being next to him—the slight possessiveness in his words. Certainly, he doesn’t mean it like that, but Hinata’s heart can’t help but flutter anyway. “Alright, hotshot,” he mutters, bouncing on his heels. “Let’s see what they do first.”
Daichi transforms into a massive double-sided axe, Suga gripping the handle with careful precision. Hinata watches, impressed, as the pair surge forward through the course. Fake targets topple under Suga’s swings– under Daichi’s power, split with surgical accuracy, each movement flowing seamlessly with Suga’s handling. The crowd of participants murmur in approval, and even Kageyama’s confident smirk falters slightly in recognition. They both watch in silence, both of their eyes shimmering with a matching competitive spark.
-
Some time later, their names are called. Last, of course.
Hinata’s heart kicks hard against his ribs, excitement flooding his veins as the course resets. The noise of the crowd dulls into a distant hum, the world narrowing to the stretch of obstacles ahead—and to Kageyama standing beside him, eyes sharp, posture coiled and ready.
“You ready?” Kageyama asks, already smirking like he knows the answer. Because he does.
Hinata grins back, feral and bright. “Try to keep up.”
The starting signal blares.
Hinata moves first.
He launches forward in human form, feet barely touching the ground as he sprints toward the first wall. At the last possible second, he leaps—and shifts, bones singing as metal overtakes flesh. Kageyama’s hands snap out without hesitation, catching him mid-air as Hinata becomes a sleek crossbow in his grip.
The first bolt flies.
It splits a target dead-center before Hinata even fully settles into Kageyama’s hands.
They don’t slow.
Kageyama vaults off the wall, twisting midair, and Hinata fires again—then again—each shot precise, effortless, perfectly timed to Kageyama’s movements. Targets shatter in rapid succession, fragments raining down like sparks.
“Higher—left!” Hinata calls.
“I see it,” Kageyama snaps back, already adjusting.
They land together, and Hinata shifts back instantly, metal dissolving into skin as his feet hit the ground. He doesn’t break stride, sprinting ahead as Kageyama follows, their steps naturally falling into sync.
A set of narrow platforms rises ahead, suspended and shifting unpredictably.
Hinata laughs—bright, breathless—and takes off, bouncing from one platform to the next. Halfway through the jump, he twists in midair and shifts again. Kageyama catches him one-handed this time, momentum unbroken, and fires mid-jump.
Three targets. Three perfect hits. Bullseye!
They land together on the far side, Hinata shifting back with barely a ripple in their rhythm.
“Show-off,” Kageyama mutters, but there’s something electric in his voice – it’s less indignation and much more praise.
“You love it,” Hinata shoots back, already leaping toward the next obstacle.
The course becomes a blur of motion—walls, rails, gaps, spinning hazards. Hinata switches forms without hesitation, sometimes only for a heartbeat, sometimes staying a weapon long enough to clear an entire section. Kageyama moves like he was built for this, vaulting, sliding, twisting, always knowing exactly where Hinata will be.
They don’t need to speak.
When Hinata jumps, Kageyama is there.
When Kageyama moves, Hinata fires.
At one point, Hinata shifts mid-fall, and Kageyama catches him behind his back, spinning and firing in the same breath. The bolt curves through the air and detonates the final target of the section in a clean, perfect strike.
The crowd erupts.
Hinata barely hears it. His focus narrows to the feeling of resonance thrumming through him, bright and warm and right. Every movement feels effortless, like his body and Kageyama’s instincts are pulled along the same invisible thread.
The final stretch looms ahead—a vertical climb riddled with moving targets.
Hinata doesn’t hesitate. He sprints, scales the wall, and leaps backward into open air.
“Kageyama!”
“Got you!”
Hinata shifts, the familiar rush of metal and tension washing over him as Kageyama catches him and fires in rapid succession. Targets explode one after another, bolts flying so fast they blur together, each hit clean, exact, devastating.
They land at the finish line together.
Hinata shifts back to human form, chest heaving, sweat slicking his skin. He laughs, breathless and exhilarated, turning to look at Kageyama.
Kageyama is grinning—wide, sharp, unstoppable.
“Told you,” he says, cocky and satisfied. “Way faster.”
Hinata’s heart pounds for an entirely different reason now, resonance still humming under his skin. He bumps Kageyama’s shoulder with his own, unable to stop smiling.
“Yeah,” he says softly, glowing. “We’re kind of amazing.”
For just a moment, standing there amid the echoes of cheers and shattered targets, it feels like nothing in the world could touch them. If only they knew…
The scores roll in almost immediately.
Hinata barely has time to wipe sweat from his forehead before the massive board above the arena flickers to life, numbers cascading down beside each team’s name. The crowd quiets, anticipation buzzing thick in the air.
One by one, the results settle.
Daichi / Suga sit solidly near the middle—high marks for control and power, just as expected.
Bokuto / Akaashi rank frighteningly high, Bokuto’s raw force balanced perfectly by Akaashi’s calm mastery.
Kuroo / Kenma place just below them, their chain scythe finesse drawing murmurs of appreciation from instructors.
Tanaka / Kiyoko, Yaku / Lev, Osamu / Suna, Atsumu / Kiyoomi, Oikawa / Iwaizumi, and more—each pair slots into place, strengths and weaknesses laid bare in neat columns of numbers.
And then—
Hinata / Kageyama.
Their names sit at the very top.
Speed: 10/10
Accuracy: 10/10
Power: 7/10
Resonance: 9/10
Near perfect. Hinata feels his chest swell until it almost hurts. He looks sideways at Kageyama, whose smug grin has returned in full force, chin tipped up like he’s daring anyone to challenge it.
“Told you,” Kageyama says, arms crossed. “Number one.”
Hinata laughs, bright and breathless. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Too late.
The head instructor raises a hand, silencing the crowd. “Excellent work. Now for the second evaluation.”
The screens shift.
“This round,” the instructor continues, “pairs will be split. Weapons and Meisters will be reassigned at random. We’ll be testing adaptability, compatibility, and latent resonance.”
The air changes.
Hinata feels it immediately—a ripple of interest, excitement, and something sharper from the other Meisters. He swallows, suddenly very aware of how many eyes flick toward him.
Kageyama stiffens beside him. “What?”
Hinata shifts his weight, trying to look casual. “I mean… it’s kinda cool, right?”
Kageyama doesn’t answer.
The reassignment begins.
Hinata is called early.
First is Kenma.
-
Hinata barely finishes stepping onto the field before Kenma is already watching him.
Not casually. Not politely.
Intently.
Kenma’s eyes track every movement Hinata makes as if he’s already running simulations in his head. When Hinata shifts into crossbow form, the usual rush of transformation is followed by something… different. Quieter. Sharper. Kenma’s hands close around him with careful precision, fingers adjusting minutely along the grip, like he’s learning Hinata’s balance in real time.
“Huh,” Kenma murmurs.
Hinata hums softly in response, resonance flickering. “Is that a good ‘huh’ or a bad one?”
Kenma doesn’t answer right away. He lifts Hinata slightly, testing the weight, the tension of the bowstring. His thumbs shift a fraction of an inch—and suddenly everything aligns.
“Oh,” Kenma says, eyes widening just a little. “You respond fast.”
Hinata feels it—the clean, effortless lock of wavelength. No forcing, no adjustment. Just… understanding. “You’re really calm,” Hinata says, surprised. “It’s easy to follow you.”
Kenma nods, already moving. “You don’t fight control. Most weapons do.”
They start.
Kenma doesn’t rush. He steps forward, measured, precise, and Hinata fires exactly when Kenma expects him to. Not a second early. Not a fraction late. Targets drop one by one, clean and exact, bolts striking dead center.
Kenma exhales slowly. “Your trajectory correction is automatic.”
“Yeah,” Hinata replies, warmth buzzing through his frame. “I kinda… feel where you want the shot to go.”
“That’s incredible,” Kenma says, completely unguarded now. His grip tightens—not possessive, but fascinated. “You’re not just versatile. You listen.”
Hinata’s resonance spikes at that, humming bright and pleased. “You’re easy to listen to.”
Kenma pauses mid-course, adjusting his stance, eyes never leaving the next target cluster. “I usually have to compensate for my weapons. With you, I don’t.”
He fires three shots in rapid succession.
Three perfect hits.
Kenma’s lips part slightly. “If I had more time with you,” he says quietly, almost to himself, “we could optimize this even further.”
Hinata feels a strange flutter at the words. “Kageyama would hate that.”
Kenma glances sideways, eyes flicking briefly toward the sidelines—toward where Kageyama stands, rigid and watching. The corner of Kenma’s mouth curves, just barely.
“…Yeah,” he says. “I figured.”
They finish the course smoothly, efficiency over flash. When Hinata shifts back into human form, Kenma is still staring at him, gaze sharp with lingering curiosity.
“You’re dangerous,” Kenma says simply.
Hinata laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get that a lot?”
Kenma nods once. “I want to study your resonance patterns later.”
Hinata blinks. “Is that a threat?”
Kenma considers it. “…No.”
Then, after a beat: “It’s a promise.”
-
Hinata is called upon again fairly quickly– matching up with Atsumu. Atsumu practically bounds onto the field.
He takes one look at Hinata and breaks into a sharp, delighted grin, eyes lighting up like he’s just been handed a brand-new toy.
“Yer the crossbow, right?” Atsumu says, already too close. “Damn, yer small.”
Hinata bristles instantly. “Hey!”
Atsumu laughs, loud and bright. “Relax, relax! I mean it in a good way. Compact. Fast. Explosive.” He tilts his head, eyes sparkling. “Yer gonna be fun.”
Hinata doesn’t know whether to feel offended or flattered.
Before he can decide, Atsumu claps his hands together. “C’mon, c’mon—show me what ya got!”
Hinata shifts into crossbow form, metal snapping into place with a familiar rush. The moment Atsumu grabs him, the resonance hits like a lightning strike.
Fast.
Too fast.
“Woah!” Hinata blurts, hum pitching high as Atsumu spins him effortlessly. “You’re—!”
“I know, right?” Atsumu cackles. “Yer snappy! This is sick!”
They take off.
Atsumu moves like he’s chasing chaos, sprinting, skidding, laughing as he fires shot after shot. Hinata barely has time to think—just reacts, adjusts, corrects, instincts screaming yes, yes, yes, as bolts fly in rapid succession.
Targets shatter. Obstacles explode.
Hinata feels alive.
Atsumu vaults over a barrier and fires mid-flip, Hinata adjusting automatically, bolt curving impossibly to hit a moving target dead-on.
Atsumu howls. “HOLY SHIT—did ya feel that?!”
“Yes!!” Hinata laughs, unable to stop himself. “You’re crazy!”
“Only the best kind!” Atsumu grins, breathless and exhilarated. “Yer perfect for this—reactive weapons usually can’t keep up with me!”
Hinata hums brightly. “You don’t hesitate.”
“Why would I?” Atsumu shoots back. “If it feels right, it is right!”
They tear through the course in a blur, resonance crackling almost dangerously high. Atsumu fires without looking, trusting Hinata completely to compensate—and Hinata does.
Every time.
By the time they skid across the finish line, Atsumu is laughing hard, chest heaving, eyes blazing.
Hinata shifts back into human form, barely steady on his feet.
Atsumu grabs his shoulders immediately. “Yer insane.”
Hinata blinks. “You just tried to throw me through a wall.”
“And ya handled it!” Atsumu beams. “God, I wanna wield ya again. Like—a lot.”
Hinata’s face goes nuclear. “Y-you can’t just say that!”
Atsumu tilts his head, genuinely confused. “Why not? It’s true.”
He leans in, grinning sharp and dangerous. “If ya ever wanna cause real trouble, crossbow, come find me.”
-
Hinata’s last paring for the day is Oikawa. Oikawa steps onto the field like he owns it.
Hinata notices immediately—the easy confidence, the theatrical stretch of his arms, the way his eyes slide toward Hinata with sharp, assessing interest. It doesn’t help that the man is beautiful. There’s a grin on his face that feels less like strategy and more like trouble.
“Well,” Oikawa says lightly, stopping just a bit too close. “So you’re the crossbow who placed first.”
Hinata blinks, flushing a tad. “Uh—yeah?”
Oikawa laughs, warm and bright. “Cute and deadly. That’s not fair, chibi-chan.”
Chibi—
Hinata’s brain short-circuits.
“I—I’m not—!” He cuts himself off, face heating more. “That’s not—!”
Oikawa just smiles wider. “Adorable.”
Hinata absolutely does not like how much his heart jumps at that.
He shifts into crossbow form a second later, mostly to save himself from further embarrassment. The transformation steadies him—but the moment Oikawa’s hands close around him, Hinata realizes this is a very different kind of grip.
Loose. Confident. Almost playful.
“Oh?” Oikawa hums, lifting him slightly. “You’re lighter than I expected.”
Hinata hums back reflexively. “You’re… really… smooth?”
“I get that a lot,” Oikawa says easily. “Relax, chibi-chan. I’ve got you.”
They start.
Oikawa moves with flair, spinning Hinata as he runs, letting momentum carry them forward. It should be reckless—but it isn’t. Every movement is calculated, every shot timed perfectly with Hinata’s internal rhythm.
Hinata fires—and the bolt curves beautifully, shattering the target in a burst of sparks.
“Oho?” Oikawa laughs. “You like being shown off, don’t you?”
Hinata’s resonance spikes embarrassingly high. “I—I just like good timing!”
“Mhm,” Oikawa hums, clearly unconvinced.
He vaults over an obstacle, twisting midair and firing without looking. Hinata adjusts instinctively, angle correcting on pure feeling alone.
Perfect hit.
Oikawa whistles. “You respond really well to confidence.”
Hinata’s thoughts are a mess. “You’re… really easy to follow,” he admits, voice more timid than he means it to be. Something about Oikawa’s charm makes him flustered. “It’s kind of… fun.”
“That so?” Oikawa says, voice dropping just a touch. “Careful, chibi-chan. Say things like that and I might get ideas.”
Hinata nearly misfires.
They finish the course in a blur of motion and sparks, resonance humming warm and bright. When Hinata shifts back into human form, he’s flushed, breathless, and painfully aware of how close Oikawa is standing.
Oikawa leans down slightly, grinning. “You did amazing. If you ever want a Meister who appreciates your… flexibility—”
“Oikawa,” an familiar irritated voice snaps from the sidelines. Hinata idly wonders how he knows his name…
Oikawa straightens, smirk turning downright wicked as he glances toward Kageyama. “Hm? Oh, relax. I’m just complimenting chibi-chan.”
Hinata glances toward Kageyama too—and immediately regrets it.
Kageyama looks murderous.
Oikawa turns back to Hinata, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Looks like someone doesn’t like sharing.”
Hinata’s heart does a dangerous little flip. “…He’s just competitive.” Certainly that’s it right? Or maybe he’s mad that Hinata gave Oikawa less trouble– either way, it’s definitely not because Kageyama cares what he does.
Oikawa chuckles. “Sure he is.”
He winks. “See you around, chibi-chan.”
Hinata stands there for a moment after Oikawa leaves, face warm, chest fluttering, mind spinning.
He absolutely does not know what to do with this feeling.
But he… kind of hopes Oikawa does it again.
But it’s not his turn anymore– Behind Kageyama is another beautiful man, wearing a mask. There are two stacked moles on his forehead– and he almost matches Kageyama’s clinical aura.
Hinata waves to Kageyama – who doesn’t wave back. He doesn’t even make it all the way up to the stands before he starts. He hears Kageyama bark an order at the weapon as he makes his way off the field.
“Stay steady,” Kageyama orders harshly. “Do exactly as I say. Don’t deviate.”
Hinata leans against a rail, watching intently. The weapon’s name is Kiyoomi – a chakram. He spins obediently in his hands, seemingly following Kageyama’s every subtle instruction. Kageyama moves with a fluid precision Hinata can’t help but admire. Every step, every toss, every throw is calculated to perfection.
The chakram slices through targets, gleaming in the sunlight. Each strike lands flawlessly.
But Hinata can feel it—the resonance is low. Empty. No connection. Kageyama isn’t dancing with Kiyoomi; he’s commanding it. There’s no trust, no rhythm, no shared flow.
The second weapon steps forward: Tsukishima, the sniper rifle. Tall, sleek, cold in appearance. Kageyama doesn’t change.
Tsukishima clicks and adjusts, following every micro-command, every tiny correction from Kageyama’s hands. Shots fly. Targets drop. Execution is flawless. Skill undeniable.
But again, resonance barely registers. Tsukishima doesn’t anticipate Kageyama; it reacts. The precision is clinical, perfect—but mechanical. Controlled.
Hinata swallows, chest tight. Kageyama is brilliant—there’s no question—but without Hinata, without that shared rhythm, it’s… cold. Empty.
After a few more matchups– all with similar performance, Kageyama steps off the field, jaw tight, fists clenching. Hinata watches quietly. Kageyama is failing—not because of a lack of skill—but because he refuses to trust. He forces obedience instead of creating connection, it’s what Hinata dealt with the first time they tried to work together.