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Ever since Kageyama held the ball in his hand, he could hear that voice. It was tentative the very first time he heard it, and he assumed that this was just some figment of his tired brain. He didn’t really have much sleep the night before, so he thought nothing of it. He had much to learn, but he did what he could. It wasn’t long before he was able to throw the ball at an angle for someone to hit it. That feeling of setting it all up for that one hit made it all the worthwhile. He pretended he couldn’t hear that soft voice in the back. It must have been from the nerves.
Since then, he practiced as hard as he could, devoting any free time to volleyball. He couldn’t join any team, since there wasn’t a team in his current school, but he told himself that once he was in middle school, he would. He would join a volleyball team, and once he did, he would be able to toss the ball to score. He would be a setter. He promised himself that. The voice that lingered around him constantly sounded a little louder than usual. He still couldn’t quite understand what the voice was saying, but he tried not to listen. He couldn’t get caught up in his own mind. He needed to practice and learn how to perfect his skill. He would need to learn how to serve without hitting the net. He needed to receive well, too.
He held out the volleyball in his palm, gazing at it intently before he hit it up in the air. He could see it make its descent, and he hit it. A perfect serve, please, he prayed. The makeshift net in the yard was flimsy, and when the ball hit it, the whole thing broke apart. His mother would be furious at him for using the clothesline as a sort of toy. He felt his upper lips jut out, and he clenched his hands into fist. He did it again anyway, setting up the clothesline over and over again when he knocked it down. After the twenty-third time, he slumped onto the ground, his frustration building up. He used his hand to wipe away the sweat, his hands red from constantly hitting the ball. He felt himself let out a soft sound of agitation. He would never get this right. That was when he heard that soft voice. This time, he could understand what it was saying. He felt his eyes widen at the words.
“Don’t mind. Once more.”
Middle school had almost seemed like a dream at first. Kitagawa Daiichi Junior High had a few of the most incredible players, and it seemed impossible to even think he was good enough to toss for them. And yet, here he was. He felt his lips pull into a wide grin, his body tense with excitement. He could hear that voice near him, and it sounded just as surprised as he did. He realized recently that the voice wasn’t in his head, but rather existed around him, somewhat. It was difficult to explain because he couldn’t quite understand it himself, but he knew that it was some sort of entity that he couldn’t see. If anything, he felt schizophrenic. If he was, then he hid his crazy very well.
Either way, he grew accustomed to the voice, and he began to feel a little dependent on it. Every time he felt hopeless, he could hear that encouraging, “Don’t mind, Once more.” It always brought him back on his feet.
As he spent his days on the team, his skill increased. It was incredible, but he felt as though he was developing too quickly. His team was too slow. Far too slow. At first, he tried not to think much of it, but that was impossible. He had to toss to them, and to make each toss successful, he needed speed. He could produce that speed, but his team couldn’t follow. It was frustrating, and it made things more difficult than it had to be. He didn’t get along very well, but there were few who did their best to help him. Kindaichi tolerated him a little more, but he knew that the other talked about him harshly. He felt pain at first, but soon, he realized that didn’t matter. As long as he stayed on the court, he would be fine. He knew that. He couldn’t hear the voice, and he felt lonely. Perhaps, this time, he really was alone.
This was their last game. If they won this game, then they would be champions. It was a title that he wanted. And, though he didn’t get along with the rest of the team, they recognized his skill. He knew he wouldn’t be switched out. He still didn’t hear that voice, and he assumed he was just having an odd phase. Still, he felt a little upset with the lack of it. He had grown to depend on it, and when it was so quickly taken from him, he felt cheated. Kageyama, watched as the ball flew towards them, his lips parted as he gazed at it. “Free ball,” someone called out, and he saw Kunimi reach for it. He felt his lips pull into a slight smile. He could see the ball fly towards his hands, and he positioned himself. He could see Kindaichi, and the position he was at wasn’t perfect. With a wrong move, he would be blocked. He couldn’t trust anyone else though, and he felt his fingers touch the ball.
“Toss to me!”
Before he knew it, Kageyama felt his hands immediately toss towards the voice. He recognized it immediately after he tossed the ball, and his eyes widened. He watched as the ball fell onto their side of the court, bouncing half-heartedly before it began to roll. That voice was one he remembered very well, but that voice sounded louder than he remembered. He gazed around, and he could see his team, staring with disbelief. He couldn’t believe it himself.
This had been their only chance at a potential deuce, and he lost it. He let this one go just like that. It was no surprise when he heard whispers of his “reckless toss.” But, this one had not been reckless. This was an anomaly. He didn’t know what to think.
He didn’t hear that voice for a long time.
The next time he heard that voice was during practice. He wasn’t accepted to Aobajousai or Shiratorizawa. He didn’t expect to after his performance. A setter with a reckless toss wasn’t exactly the most desired player. So, he went to Karasuno High, believing Coach Ukai still coached. To his dismay, the Coach had retired just before. He was stuck here, but he did what he could to excel. He was still the best player here, and he was still good at setting. Still, the team was still hesitant to give him the position of the official setter. He wasn’t reliable. He understood, but his upper lip jutted out. He promised himself he would be a setter.
He was serving again, trying to focus his serves so he could pinpoint a certain location at will. It was a useful way to attack, and he wanted to have some sort of upper hand. He did a jumping serve, and he was better at it than before. Still, he watched as he missed the target. He still needed to perfect his serve.
“Don’t mind, don’t mind.”
Kageyama felt his eyes widen, and he gazed around. He could see everyone else doing their own thing, and he felt his jaw tighten. He didn’t need this. Not now. He grabbed another ball to serve, and he heard that voice again.
“Toss to me.”
He threw the ball at the ground instead. He didn’t go to practice the next day.
Kageyama watched as the Karasuno team fell again. They were still the “flightless crows,” and he hadn’t expected to win. But, it would be nice to be on the court again. He had skipped many practices, and that put him out of the official matchup. He just wasn’t reliable. He understood.
He watched as Asahi and Tanaka tried to spike past the “Iron Wall” to no avail. He knew that if the tosses were just a little quicker and the spikers had quicker reflexes, the team could have dodged Datekougyou High’s impenetrable wall. Kageyama could have provided those quicker tosses, but he was unreliable. Besides, he didn’t know anyone who could match his speedy tosses with quick reactions. It just wouldn’t happen.
He followed the team quietly, watching as everyone filed into the bus with heads downcast, hands clenched. He felt upset, but not because of their loss. He wanted to stay on that court, but he couldn’t even step into it. He felt more shame than anything. He could hear the voice beside him, softly whispering in his ear, “Don’t mind, Kageyama. Don’t mind.”
This was the first time he heard his own name in that curious voice. It made his name sound nicer than it really was.
It wasn’t long before Kageyama quit volleyball. It wasn’t like he wanted it to be. He couldn’t set for anyone, and every time he did try to toss the ball, he got distracted by that voice calling out to him.
“Toss to me.”
Every single time, he got caught up in it and tossed at an empty space. It was getting out of hand. He was great at serving, but it was something he hardly cared for. He wasn’t in control, and he found volleyball more painful. He promised himself he would be a setter for his middle school team, and he had assumed that would carry out into his high school years. It seemed making assumptions was a stupid thing to do.
He focused on his studies, focusing on things to keep his mind off of volleyball. Every now and then, he could hear that voice behind him, sighing as though it were disappointed. He wanted to scream at it, to tell it to shut up, dumbass. He didn’t, though. He didn’t want to look crazy.
Studying was difficult, but now that his mind wasn’t occupied with volleyball, he actually managed to get better grades. His teachers complimented his improvement, but he didn’t think it was that big a deal. He studied, but that was hardly impressive.
When he walked home, he could hear the voice behind him, seeming to trail after him.
“We should get meat buns. Daichi-san always got meat buns after practice.”
Kageyama paused, and he opened his mouth to say something, anything. He was alone, and he wouldn’t even seem that insane. He could say what he felt. Hell, he could yell at the other about how the voice was always trying to hold him back. But, he didn’t. He held his tongue. He gazed up, then without another word, he made his way toward Sakanoshita Store. He supposed meat buns for dinner wasn’t such a bad idea. Despite himself, he bought two. The voice never got his own, so it might be a nice change. He was going insane, he was certain. And yet, when he heard a soft sound of surprise, then words of sudden thanks, Kageyama felt his lips pull into a small smile.
“You’re the best, Kageyama!”
It was nice to be wanted. He didn’t like being alone. Besides, this voice was the only one who seemed to want his tosses.
College wasn’t an obstacle, but Kageyama avoided volleyball again. Well, he tried to, but that didn’t really work out. The voice continued to pester him, begging him to just try tossing again.
“Toss to me. Please?”
So, he picked up the ball again in what seemed like far too long. He brought it to the closest park, knowing the voice was following him. He was hesitant at first, but when he felt his hands carefully throw the ball into the air, everything felt so familiar. Everything felt so natural, and he realized how much he missed this feeling.
“Kageyama! Toss to me!”
Without a moment’s hesitation, he did. The ball flew, and he almost expected someone to hit it. If anything, he felt as though he saw a flash of orange, running towards the ball while it was still in mid-air.
The ball fell to the ground, and Kageyama gazed at it. No one saw it move, but Kageyama knew that though the ball itself wasn’t moving, someone had asked for it. He felt his lips pull into a small smile before he brushed it off.
“Don’t mind, don’t mind! Once more, Kageyama! Once more!”
He did toss it once more. If anything, he tossed until his arms felt sore. He felt wanted, and it was a feeling he missed for far too long.
He was invited to join the volleyball team more than once, and he declined each time. Every member told him he would be able to play in competitions, but he didn’t want to. He liked the idea of going back on the court, but he was afraid of tossing to an empty spot again. He didn’t want to sit on the bench. He didn’t want to be so close to and yet so far from the game. That was torture. Just tossing to the voice was enough for him. He tried to convince himself of that, and yet, he watched every game. It was intense, and Kageyama felt himself cheer, hollering aloud to spur them on. He was caught in the heat of the moment, but he felt comforted when he heard the voice cheer with him.
“Nice receive!”
He was happy when he saw their team win. He wasn’t even part of the team, but it was nice to see a team he was rooting for win. He heard the voice whistle in satisfaction, letting out words that didn’t even sound like words. But, at the same time, he felt better.
“Do you remember, Kageyama? The spike went like ‘gwah’ and ‘uryah.’ Right, Kageyama?”
He nodded, smiling a little as he easily went to the nearest convenient store. He bought meat buns, but he could tell these didn’t taste quite as good as the ones in Sakanoshita Store. Still, he ate, leaving the second meat bun for the voice.
His first job out of college was at a convenience store. It was nice, actually, and the hours weren’t long. If anything, he had time to play volleyball at the park with the voice again. He tossed the ball to the supposed air, but he knew that the voice was always hitting it with all his might. Kageyama just knew that. He could tell by the excitement in the voice’s words.
It was always nice to hear the voice.
Fear took over when he saw a man, his face covered, holding a gun to his face. Kageyama never even saw a real gun in his life, and he was slow to react. He pulled the money from the register, but he wasn’t quick enough. He felt a sharp bite at his gut, and it took a moment before he realized the loud bang was the sound of a bullet flying out of the barrel, biting into his skin. He gazed down in disbelief, and he wasn’t quite sure what was going on.
It took a long moment before he realized he was on the floor. He should call an ambulance.
But, it was hard to think when he could feel a distant sort of pain and soft sobs from the air. The voice was crying. Kageyama didn’t think he ever heard it cry. He could hear the sharp gasps, and he wanted to reach out and tell it too calm down. But he couldn’t find the words. He never spoke to the voice, and now that he wanted to, he didn’t know what to say. He felt his eyes grow heavy, and he could hear the soft voice.
“Don’t mind, Kageyama. Don’t mind.”
Kageyama didn’t mind. He did, however, hope that this wouldn’t be the last time he heard this voice. He didn’t want to be alone.
He regretted not playing volleyball again, even just to see the court again. He regretted not keeping up with the Karasuno team, never contacting them after all this time. He regretted ignoring the voice for all that time. He regretted tossing the ball to it after a long period of wait. He regretted not buying him another meat bun before this.
He felt his eyes shut, and he could hear that voice grow more and more distant.
“Don’t mind. Don’t mind.”
Kageyama opened his eyes, and he couldn’t see much at first. It was bright, and his eyes had to take a long time before they could adjust. He rubbed at them idly, and he could see bright lights. He could remember the blood wound at his gut, and he gazed down. He couldn’t see a spot of blood on him. Instead, he saw his Karasuno jersey. Number nine. He gazed down at it, and he felt his heart clench. Well, if this was the afterlife, he must have been in hell. This had been the worst time of his life. He never played on the court with this team, and the jersey was a brutal reminder of that. He felt his upper lip jut out, and he clenched his hands by his side. This was a cruel joke, he was certain. He gazed around, and he could see the gym. He was in some odd remake of the Karasuno gym, and he felt insulted.
Reluctantly, he stood, gazing at the large sack of volleyballs. He gazed at them, carefully lifting on. He couldn’t help but think things felt oddly the same in this after life. He held the ball up high, and decided why not once more? He took in a deep breath, then threw the ball in the air. This felt nostalgic, almost, but it wasn’t the best feeling. He couldn’t hear the voice anymore. He watched the ball fall down, gravity bringing it towards earth. Then, before it could touch its destination, Kageyama hit it into the air. He gazed up, and he let out a soft sigh. A perfect serve. And yet, there was no one to get it. He turned away, not wanting to see it bounce away. He had enough of that when he was alive.
“Nice serve, Kageyama!”
The words made him turn back immediately, watching as a small boy near his age receive the ball with difficulty. His skills were rusty, but he had quick reflexes. The reflexes that Kageyama had needed to succeed. He watched with a look of disbelief. And yet, those quick movements didn’t give him shock. He watched as the boy with the number ten jersey hurried over for the rolling ball, his lips pulled into a wide smile. His orange hair was so bright.
Kageyama remembered Daichi saying that the number ten jersey had been destroyed along with the owner, Hinata Shouyou. An attack or something, no one was certain, but the jersey was never remade. It was for respect, he assumed? Kageyama gazed up, and after a long moment he shook his head.
The little orange-headed mess gazed up at him, holding out the ball with an eager look. Kageyama found that entrancing. He never had that before, and this felt incredible.
“Toss it to me? Once more?”
Kageyama paused, and after a brief second, he reached for the ball.
“Obviously, dumbass Hinata.”
After this, Kageyama promised himself to buy meat buns. This time, they could eat together. He wouldn’t ever be alone again.