The feeling of exhaustion was catching up to him, he was sure of it now.

His lungs burned every breath he exhaled, and he struggled to swallow the spit accumulating in his mouth.

Despite the pain in his chest, nothing could come close to the sharp pang every time the ball would connect with his forearms.

He wasn't going to stop.

He made sure of it himself. If he stopped now, then what will become of him?

The opposing team's blocks wasn't going to stop him.

With precision and force, he tossed the ball across the court, where the other team would find it hard to block.

The ball went too fast for the spiker, but he only saw it as the spiker being far too slow.

Kageyama Tobio gritted his teeth when the attempt failed.

"Move faster!" He found himself yelling.

His eyes glared at the scoreboard.

"If you want to win, match my tosses!"

The opponent was at match point.

He couldn't lose, no, he won't allow it.

He's come so far, he could almost taste Nationals.

He wasn't even sure why he was yelling anymore. The team wouldn't listen to him.

He glared once more at his supposed "partner" and found himself tossing the ball behind him.

He took in a breath of air, anticipating for the sound of a palm connecting with the ball.

Instead, the sound of a ball hitting the ground was the only thing Kageyama could hear.

Above the audience, above the shuffling of shoes on the wooden floors- even above his own thoughts.

He glanced at his teammates, all who had their backs turned to him.

His eyes widened.

He gulped as he tried to find his voice, to try to communicate.

No words came out.

The sound of his coaches' voice drilled in the back of his head, but only one of the words processed in his brain.

Benched.

He was to sit on the bench for the rest of the game.

Unable to change the outcome, unable to play.

His knuckles turned white as he gripped at his knees.

He was sitting on the bench now, a towel wrapped around his neck and shoulders as he tore his eyes from the game.

Kageyama couldn't do anything but look down at his shoes, biting his lip to prevent any tears from falling down his face.

A tiny voice in the back of his mind surfaced.

It was bound to happen.

It was only a matter of time until they got fed up.

And though he knew it was speaking the truth, he couldn't help but feel indignation.

It wasn't fair. He wanted to play. He wanted to stand on the court and win.

He wanted to feel the volleyball in his hands.

And yet, the whistle blew, signifying the end of the last set.

—

Baby blue. That's how his mother had described his eyes when he was young.

He doesn't see her often (or very much at all), but he never blamed or resented her.

As frustrating as it was, he's become accustomed to coming back to an empty home.

As he looked into the mirror in one of Kitagawa Daiichis' bathrooms, he just cursed.

Kageyama Tobio's hands were trembling as he firmly gripped the edges of the sink, the cool surface calming his burning palms.

After all, he had a horrible habit of clenching his fists, the feeling of his finger nails digging into his skin had always soothed him.

He loved that burning sensation.

His forearms...

His palm...

It felt indescribable.

He needed more.

He wanted to win. To keep playing volleyball and stay on the court.

He wanted to feel.

And yet he pushed too far.

He didn't say a word to the other members of the volleyball club after the match.

They were never on best terms to begin with.

He's never connected with them, any of his pathetic apologies wouldn't be accepted.

There was a part of him that didn't want his apologies to be accepted.

Because, as oblivious to his own feelings as he is, even he knew how he treated them was not acceptable.

He took a deep breath in and stared intently at his reflections' eyes.

The only way he could describe them was royal blue.

How cruelly ironic.

—

It was the day of the Graduation Ceremony.

The third years from Kitagawa Daiichi would soon become first years in the high school they chose to go to.

Kageyama has always had two options.

He had planned to go to Aoba Johsai in his earlier years of middle school, but since most of the other players in the volleyball club decided to go there, he refused to go.

There was also Shiratorizawa, but he had failed to get in through the entrance exam.

Despite all that, Kageyama made himself a third option:

Karasuno.

The infamous Coach Ukai was said to be coming out of retirement, something that spiked intrigue in Kageyama.

And though it wasn't his first option, it would do.

As long as he got to stay on the court, that would be enough.

His class walked in a single file line behind his homeroom teacher.

They were all making their way to the gym, where they were to be given their diplomas.

He had given the time of day to think about asking his mother to come, and he secretly hoped that she would.

But as his class walked into the gym, she was nowhere to be seen in the crowd of parents.

Kageyama still held on hope.

One by one, the principal called their names, and as each student went up on the stage to receive their diplomas and certificates, you could hear many clicks from cameras and phones help by the students' parents.

Kageyama's name was called up, and he walked onto the stage, a frown on his face as he scanned through the crowd.

His mother wasn't there, there wasn't the sound of a camera's shutters closing.

Kageyama walked back down to where his class stood and waited for the ceremony to be over.

—

Kageyama considered skipping the entrance ceremony to go to the gym and practice.

His hands itched to touch a volleyball, and that was the only thought that occupied his mind throughout the entrance ceremony.

Other students were whispering and laughing amongst themselves (Kageyama didn't know the reason why) but he remained indifferent to it.

Finally, the entrance ceremony ended, and he was whisked away to his new homeroom class, where the teacher welcomed them all to Karasuno High.

Kageyama's fingernails were digging into his palms again, but he did not notice.

In fact, he only noticed when the time came for class activities.

But spending a lot of the school day with his hands clenched had left his palms burning.

His heart felt satisfyingly heavy at the feeling.

He was the first to the gym, so he took it upon himself to start practicing.

He threw the volleyball ball up in the air, readying himself to serve.

The ball was about to connect with his burning palm when—

"What the heck are you doing here?!"

Kageyama stopped at the voice, the ball dropped, landing on his head.

He turned to the door and, maybe for a second, he looked at the short orange-haired boy with baby blue eyes.