His window was our barrier. He sat behind it everyday at the same time as I walked past, sometimes alone and other times with friends in the beginning. He stared out at me as I walked past and at first I didn't even notice him. Our first contact was me hearing a tap as I walked past, it wasn't loud but enough so I could hear it from the path only two meters from his window. Turning to him I was startled to see him pressed against the glass waving at me. I looked around to make sure I was the only one around before turning back to him and frowning. He smiled at me in return. I admit that at first when I saw him smile at me I was confused. He had a sad smile, small and weak, his eyes were dull and bored looking, there was no light there. Our first meeting ended in me turning around and walking off before he could do more than wave. I didn't expect him to try again.

I didn't even walk past his house for the few weeks, hoping he'd forget about me and leave me alone. But as I walked past after a long five weeks of walking the long way home there he was, sitting in the same spot by the window, his knees were pulled up to his chest and his head was resting on top angled out the window as he stared blankly at the world he didn't enter. There was no way for me to pass without him seeing me and I couldn't go back, it would take me far too long. He shot up from his position when he saw me and knocked on the window, I was afraid it would break. Against my better judgement I stopped and looked at him, he smiled at me again, and again it was a small and weak smile, his eyes once again empty of emotion, a dull muddy brown colour.

I stayed in front of him as he held up one finger like you would when telling a dog to wait and he ran off, leaving my sight for all of three seconds before he was back again with a notepad and black marker. I waited as he scribbled on the page quickly as if afraid I'd leave before he was done, I was seriously considering leaving and never coming this way again… I don't know why I didn't follow that feeling, if I did maybe things wouldn't have turned out the way they did, but I honestly wouldn't change it for the world.

The next day, a day later and a day after that, weeks even months later I stopped by his window on my way home. He was always there, sitting on the windowsill, waiting with a pen and notepad close by. Day by day his smile grew as well. Every time he saw me a smile spread across his face to the point where eventually I was surprised when his smile didn't tear his face in half. His eyes had a light in them, no longer the dull muddy brown, but a lively chestnut full of happiness and excitement, as he described the things he saw from his window from the vicious dog across the street that liked to lay in it's next door neighbours roses, jumping the fence before they lady got home to the elderly couple who walk past him everyday and wave. In return I tell him about my day, of the people on my team who seem to hate me to the teacher who face planted entering the classroom. He scribbles on his notepad and I write on my phone, by the time I started answering him back I'd already been jumping his fence for a few weeks. It was fun, even if he was my only friend in the world, I loved every moment I spent with him, even the times I thought as him as an annoyance. That was until I found out about his love for volleyball.

He was speaking of the Little Giant when I found out, saying how much he admired him and wanted to be just like him. He wanted to fly, I didn't get it right away, it took the Little Giant's title a while to connect to any information I'd heard about him, after I made the connection over half our conversations were about volleyball from that point on. I told him all about my games and others that I'd watch at the tournaments just to tell him about. We were happy with that connection we had.

We honestly didn't even see it coming.

It was sunny and warm, not a cloud in the sky and a small breeze to cool those outside. We were silently, happily chatting away through his window, it'd been three years since our first meeting, only hours away from my last game of the season. It was just passing eleven. He snapped around to look behind him, his face going blank in seconds. He seemed to gasp before he turned back to me and quickly scribbled down his last message to me.

'QUICKLY HIDE!'

He jumped from his place at the window and stood in front of it, throwing away the notepad and apparently blocking me from view as I dived for cover in his flowerbed filled with shrubs. I turned back just in time to see him being grabbed by the hair and thrown to the floor. The older person had orange hair just like his, but it was different. It was the same colour, same shade, same messy uncontrollable look, but it was dull, lifeless and dirty whereas his was bright, fluffy and shiny and looked unbelievably soft to touch. I always wanted to touch his hair.

The older man bent over him and raised his fist, bringing it down like sledgehammer. The first and last thing I heard from his mouth was his excruciating, blood curling scream. From my position I could see everything when they moved further into the room, his eyes filled with terror and tears as the man didn't let up for even a second and brought out a knife, placing it in his mouth, we made eye contact one last time, he seemed to be apologising to me and thanking me in the same half a second glance we got before he lost consciousness. I was stuck hiding in the shrubs until the police and ambulance arrived. Watched as they wheeled him out on a stretcher with a sheet covering his body. The wind picked it up showing me a sight I'll never forget. Carved into his face was a smile that quite literally split his face. That image burnt itself into my memory, into my very soul.

My phone alarm rang at one, notifying everyone that I was in the bushes. I panicked as the police came to check and bolted from my spot, vaulting the fence and sprinting down the street toward my school. As I escaped the scene the only thing on my mind was the game I had yet to play today. I was unaware of the calls for me to stop and the tear that streaked my face. I was lucky that I never ran into my teammates on that day before the game. Though if I did they probably wouldn't have left, but I wouldn't have been able to play either.

Nobody was there. They were there for the whole game, but that moment they were gone, the ball hit the floor and I remembered his first message to me as I saw the rift between my team and me.

'My name is Hinata Shouyou, let's be friends.'