The ball bouncing off the court on their side of the net was like a solitary kick drum in an empty auditorium of rigid steal. It's sound echoed, nothing was heard, seen, registered at all with his mind but the ball. The ball with no spiker. The spiker with no ball. No spiker.

Their glares scorched his skin, the shrill whistle poked at his eardrums like tiny needles in a sleepy foot.

You're joking… Right? It's not… He's not… They're not… They are. They will. They can Tobio. They can and they will.

Alarms. Alarms equal 6:00. 6:00 equals morning… Morning… Morning, breakfast, clothes, school, volley ball. Volley ball. Should get up then. School… Sleep… Alarm, *sigh* I'll get up.

Tobio dragged himself out of bed, shivering from the sweat of his dream, his disturbing dream, too real; he'd have to take a shower. He grabbed his school clothes and headed straight for the bathroom across the hall. Hot showers were always nice. Hot showers on cold mornings were even better.

Despite his delay he was walking to school only minutes later than usual. He'd miss meeting up with Kindaichi and Kunimi because of it. Today, it sounded like a good thing… To reflect alone. Maybe school wasn't such a good idea today after all. He could always skip and just go to volleyball practice afterschool. As long as he wasn't late to practice the coach didn't have to know he wasn't in school today.

He was barely even halfway down his street when he turned back and hurried home. His parents were already at work, both had left unreasonably early this morning, things were getting busy and they didn't want to do over time in the afternoons. The only time they could spend time with him during the week. He often ate dinner alone.

He'd tell the teachers he was sick if anybody asked. Not that they would. He hadn't gotten sick before nor had he ever skipped before this, they had no reason to suspect him of foul play.

His mind drifted to his dream throughout the day. He ambled through his house looking for things to do. He cleaned (not that the house needed much cleaning), stacked the coloured cups in colour order (omitting the pink cups, they didn't fit), did his homework, read a chapter into his text books, to end up in his back yard lying on his back and tossing his volleyball above him contemplating his dream.

Would they really abandon him? He hadn't thought he'd been that bad. Maybe he was. Maybe his teammates weren't the problem. Maybe he was.

Was he the problem?

He looked back over his behaviour. His words meant to help, he found, could easily be misinterpreted, sound insulting, demeaning.

He found he was the problem. His stunning deduction brought with it a simple solution. Apologize and change.


Kageyama stared at his team. Kitadaiichi. Across the court chatting happily amongst themselves as they waited for the first years to clean the gym so they could all go home. He'd created the distance he saw before him, a court away but they may as well have been on the other side of the world if he kept this up.

His dream flashed to the forefront of his mind. He didn't want that to happen.

He slowly, timidly, crossed the length between them, stood silently before them until they noticed him and stared at him. He felt shivers at those eyes, those disdain, uncaring eyes willing him to just leave. How didn't he notice it before?

It didn't take them long to stop their conversations and watch him, realizing he wasn't going to leave until he'd said what he had to. He also obviously wasn't going to begin the exchange if his nervous shifting was anything to go by.

"What do you want Kageyama." Kunimi asked. He registered the cold tone, the unsaid words 'nick off, we don't want you here' and promptly bowed to his regulars. "I'm sorry."

They were lost for words, looked confused and shocked. He fled the gym before they could ask, get their answers, accept his apology if they would.

Would they?