A/N: Hiyo. Here, have a story free of shipping and focusing more on other values like redemption, love (not the romantic kind), acceptance, and forgiveness.

Full summary:

Daichi, Suga, and Asahi have been there for each other through thick and thin. But three people don't just come together like that, do they? They got their stories told in their third year... but what about before that? To put it simply, it all started with a girl who could not tell her own story.

Story takes place in their first year of Karasuno.

Be warned, there's going to be some possible trigger themes in this story.

Sugawara Koushi squirmed in his seat, his gaze fixed on the ground. Once or twice, his eyes flitted over to his older brother, who was grimacing as the tattoo artist leaned over him, the mechanized needle vibrating as it pressed into his skin.

Suga winced, pressing his back further into the couch and shutting his eyes, well aware of how utterly illegal this was and how painful the procedure must be. His breathing quickened, and he felt a soft hand brush against his. He looked down and noticed that a smaller pinkie finger was touching his own pinkie finger, their hands side by side on the armrest.

Sugawara Fumiyo smiiled back at him, lifting her hand and holding up her smallest finger before curling it around Suga's smallest finger. She smiled with her teeth and Suga gave her a weary, strained smile back before pulling his finger away.

Fumiyo was his sister. She had never spoken a word in her life, and Suga couldn't remember the last time her feet had met the ground. Suga leaned forward, taking in the sight of his pathetically mute sister sitting in her equally pathetic wheelchair. They were twins, but it was hard to think so when Fumiyo was so small and thin and sickly-looking.

"Why don't you stand up?" Suga barked, frowning at her. The hot emotions of a ten year old boy bubbled in his chest. "I know you can. Everybody can." Fumiyo made a gesture with her hands, still smiling, and Suga's frown deepened. He could not comprehend a word (hah!) of her language, and he told himself that he would never bother learning it.

It would only burden him.

Just like her.

Fumiyo was a representation of everything he didn't want to be. She was bullied at school (he knew, because sometimes he found enough wickedness in his heart to watch), unpopular, and was pretty much deaf to what was happening around her, even though she could hear perfectly fine.

"Oiii, Koushi, look over here!" his brother called, his tattoo finished. "How does it look?" He held out his arm, where a familiar set of kanji was inked on the inside of his forearm to his wrist.

"It looks so cool!" Suga said anyway, because it really was cool. He just didn't understand why his brother had tattooed their sister's name onto his skin.

"Yeah, yeah," the tattoo artist grumbled, "Listen, kids, you'd best leave. I don't exactly want to be arrested for tattooing minors..."

"Okay, mister," Suga's brother said amiably, walking over to Fumiyo and undoing the brakes on her wheelchair before pushing her out of the parlor, Suga close behind.

"I don't understand, onii-san," Suga complained, huffing, "Why did you put her name on your arm?" What about my name?

"Eh?" His brother did a slight double take before laughing. "Are you jealous, Koushi?"

"No!" Suga denied, his cheeks flushing. "What's there to be jealous of? It's not like I want my name on your arm... that's weird. Aren't the teachers gonna see?"

"Not if I wear the long-sleeved uniform all year round." He winked at Suga, chuckling. "Don't worry, Koushi, I made sure to arrange everything before I went ahead for this. It's pretty dangerous and illegal to be a minor and have a visible tattoo..."

"Then why did you do it?"

"Because I love Fumiyo," his brother said earnestly, his smile growing a little fonder. "Now don't get me wrong, I love you too, Koushi, but Fumiyo..." He clutched his arm. "She can't speak for herself. Which means I'm going to speak for her."

Why should you? Suga thought cruelly, glaring daggers at the back of his sister's wheelchair. She's totally useless! Nobody likes her! Everyone hates her... I hate her! I hate her, I hate her, I hate her! He bit his lip, wondering what his brother would say if he ever heard Suga say those sinful words. "Yeah, okay," he eventually replied, shoving his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

His brother made a face before pinching the material of his jumper. "This old thing again? Didn't that use to be dad's?"

"All the popular kids at school are doing it!" Suga protested vehemently, pulling away from his brother. "Over-sized sweaters are in."

Fumiyo laughed, the sound bell-like and soft. The anger that swept over Suga threatened to knock him off his feet. So she can laugh but not speak?! That's so lame!

"You look ridiculous," his brother said, "Listen, even Fumiyo agrees!" He sighed through his nose and placed a large hand on Suga's shoulder. "You shouldn't follow the popular crowd all the time... if all the cool kids jumped off a bridge, would you?"

Suga, who was about to argue back, faltered. "Well, no. I don't wanna die."

"Exactly." His brother ruffled his head. "Just be yourself, Koushi. It's not cool if you try to be one of the popular kids."

Suga grunted, his cheeks warming. He liked it when his brother ruffled his hair. It was a reminder of how much his family loved him, even when their father went abroad and never came back. He briefly recalled walking into the kitchen for a midnight snack and seeing his mother crying into her hands, having discovered an online post featuring their father and a younger, prettier woman. "Fine," he agreed, self-consciously tugging at his hood. "It's too hot for hoodies anyway."

"Great, now do you guys want ice cream?"

"OH!" Suga grinned. "Yes, please! You know what flavor I want."

Fumiyo made an "aaah" sound before motioning to their eldest brother with her fingers, who nodded.

The three Sugawara siblings stopped at the ice cream shop, Fumiyo's wheelchair parked outside the store where Suga and their brother could see her from the confines of the ice cream shop.

As Suga's brother collected an ice cream cone, Suga turned to observe his sister. What the...? Her chair was rolling gradually toward the road. Worry bloomed in his heart, stomping down the feeling of annoyance that usually accompanied him every time he laid eyes on that burden. "Onii-san, is Fumiyo supposed to be like that?" he asked, tugging on his brother's t-shirt.

"Huh? What are you—FUMIYO!" Suga jumped when his brother suddenly dashed toward Fumiyo, now teetering on the edge of a road. The ice cream that he had been about to take dropped onto the ground with a splat!

Tearing his gaze from the ice cream, he exited the store just in time to see a car round the corner as Suga's brother tried his best to unstuck the wheel of Fumiyo's wheelchair, which had gotten trapped in a large crack and dip in the road. From where he was standing, Suga couldn't help but noticed that the man in the car didn't even have his eyes on the road, looking instead at his phone.

"ONII-SAN!" Suga screamed as Fumiyo—having been picked up and thrown to safety—flew through the air and landed roughly on the sidewalk, lifting her head dazedly. Suga couldn't bear to look—not when he couldn't even handle the sight of a mechanical needle piercing some skin.

There was a screech, a thud, and the horrible sound of metal bending and snapping.

Suga woke up with a start, sitting up slowly from his bed. He hoped he hadn't screamed, for his mother—the sole money-bringer in their household as she insisted that Suga focused on his studies rather than earning money, was asleep in the next room. He got out of bed and quietly padded to his sister's room, pushing the door opened with a slight creak. His sister lay sound asleep in her futon, snoring very softly.

He glared into the dark, the back of his eyes stinging as he made the short journey back to his room, where he proceeded to collapse into a sea of blankets, still warm as he hadn't left them for long.

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he tossed and turned in his bed, unable to get back to the land of sleep. He hiccuped, throwing a hand over his face to try and furiously wipe the tears away. But they just kept coming.

"I hate you!" he hissed into the darkness. "This is all your fault...! If... if you could just walk and talk like a normal person, he wouldn't be dead!" He shoved his face into his pillow, biting the pillowcase material as he continued to sob, his entire body shaking. "Okaa-chan wouldn't have to work so hard to feed you! You can't get a job in the future like me. You're useless! I hate you, I hate you!"

There was a noise in the next room—his mother's room—and Suga ceased his quiet shouting, feeling guilty for disrupting his mother's sleep. The door creaked open and the light's switched on.

His mother stood at the doorway.

"Koushi," she said with a yawn, "I heard you talking... is everything alright?"

"Fine." Suga smiled genially at his mother, praying that his eyes were not too red and swollen. He hadn't been crying for long. "Just nervous. It's the first day of high school tomorrow."

"Ah." His mother smiled with her thin lips. She hardly ever smiled. If she did, there was no meaning behind it. "Get to sleep soon, Koushi. Dawn approaches us." With that, she turned off the lights and closed the door behind her.

Stop crying, he scolded himself, No need to come to school looking like you've been crying all night. How embarrassing would that be? He had taken his late brother's last advice to heart—he no longer cared much about fitting in, only focusing on the relationships he wanted to make and the things that he wanted to do. The popular crowd decided nothing for him anymore.

Tomorrow, he coached himself, Is the start of a new life. I'll study hard and play volleyball. I'll make new friends. Are you proud of me, onii-san? His train of thought paused momentarily. Goodnight, onii-san. I love you.