Prologue

"Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye."

- H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

The blood rushed through his fingers hot and fast, like a waterspout spitting out red. It flowed between Kageyama's fingers and soaked his black school jacket in seconds—impossibly quick. There was so much. How was there so much? He couldn't even see the cut, so where was all this blood coming from?

They'd been riding their bikes up the hill to his house, racing like they always did to see who could get their first, but suddenly there was a huge crash and Hinata was just...screaming at the top of his lungs, like a wounded animal. Kageyama had stopped immediately, but he hadn't seen what actually happened past all the blood covering every inch of Hinata's sports uniform.

He was too panicked to think clearly. Where was the cut? He couldn't stop the bleeding if he couldn't find the cut. Where had Hinata gotten hurt?!

"What happened?" Kageyama finally managed to croak, his voice resonating in his throat like a dull echo as his hands pressed frantically against Hinata's body, searching for the wound. "Dumbass, what happened?!" he repeated, voice rising in volume as his panic spiked. His partner was looking up at him, but his usually bright and lively eyes seemed to look right through Kageyama like he wasn't even there. That alone was even more terrifying than the blood. He'd never seen the enthusiastic ball of energy so quiet and still before. It just... wasn't right.

Cradling the boy's head in his lap, Kageyama pressed shaking hands down more frantically against his small chest in a last feeble attempt to stop the flowing blood, though he still couldn't discern where it was coming from. "Dumbass Hinata!" His voice cracked on the boy's name. "Answer me, dammit!" He turned his head to scream down the street. "Help, somebody, please help me!"

His words broke into sobs, until eventually, he was just screaming unintelligible strings of sound at the top of his lungs, hugging his broken friend to his chest and praying to any god that would listen that he would be okay, even though somewhere inside, he knew that his love's heartbeat was gone.

"I'm here, Kageyama!"

"Hah!" Kageyama jolted upright in bed, lungs burning as he frantically gasped for air, arms still outstretched towards the ghost of the bleeding boy. Not real, he had to scream to himself to calm down. Not real, not real!

His heartbeat hammered in his ears like a war drum as Kageyama slowly managed to control his breathing, struggling to return to his senses in the twilight dark of his room through the panic swirling in his chest. The surrounding area was just barely visible to him, appearing as a grouping of half-distinct shadows dusted in pale dawn light: It couldn't have been more than four or five in the morning.

Kageyama's suspicions were confirmed a second later: the clock read 4:48 AM. It was much too early to get up, but too late to fall comfortably back asleep. Not that he could after that dream, anyway... It had been the same nightmare every day, week after week: that same redheaded boy drenched in blood. Horrible. And every time Kageyama closed his eyes, the red lingered like paint that just wouldn't wash away.

A shudder passed through him; a shiver that wracked his whole body like a gust of sharp wind. It was getting harder every morning to forget his face, covered in blood and contorted in pain, and even though he knew the boy's name in the dream, it somehow always slipped away in waking…

But he couldn't dwell on the dream for too long. If he did, he would never be able to drag himself out of bed and start the day, and he couldn't miss practice. But still... the redhead's face just wouldn't leave his mind. Instead of the empty expression he knew so well, though, this one was different: the boy was happy, smiling up at him with bright eyes that shone like honey. But somehow, this joyous, carefree image was even more painful. It showed even more of a life that had been taken away, a life that he would never fully get to know.

If Kageyama had been a more emotional person, it probably would've driven him to tears. He had never actively cried, of course, but some mornings he would wake up with wet cheeks and a stuffy nose. His parents had also woken him up a few times in the night after hearing him sobbing, so clearly, his dream-self was much more emotional, or rather, more attached to the mystery boy he was forced to lose every night.

Sighing, Kageyama pulled himself from the comforting embrace of his blankets and out into cold morning air, forcing his mind to shut off completely in order to forget the nightmare's vivid imagery. He knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, so he might as well get some extra practice in while he could. There was a game coming up soon that he really wanted to be ready for. His jump serves could always use extra work.

After taking a quick shower, Kageyama dressed and quietly made his way outside, careful not to wake his parents, who had to be up in a few short hours to head to work. Outside, there was a 10-foot wooden wall his father had built for him in elementary school to spike against and a pile of volleyballs. He retrieved one and jogged a few feet back in preparation for a serve.

The smack of the volleyball against his palm and the thud it made as it hit the wall and bounced back to him was soothing. It was easy for Kageyama to forget about everything, as long as he was trapped here in the repetitive motions of spike, receive, repeat. Everything was perfect in this little bubble, free of worry or lifeless brown eyes. Here, nothing existed beyond the volleyball and the wall, and for a while, everything was perfect.

By the time his parents woke up, Kageyama had been practicing for more than an hour. His hands were red and his body ached. His mother spotted him out the window and dragged him inside for breakfast, scolding him about wearing himself out before school. Not that he cared. It was his third year in high school and his last year on the volleyball team before he started college. He needed the extra practice if he planned on getting a sports scholarship.

He did end up eating breakfast, as his mom nagged him to, but he wasn't really that hungry. His brain was blissfully empty for once, thinking of nothing except, well, nothing. It was nice not to be stuck on thoughts of the mystery dream boy, as he often was. All Kageyama had to worry about that morning was leaving early enough to avoid the train that often passed by his house. He had about 4 more minutes before he needed to leave in order to beat it, he thought. But if he left now, he could walk instead of ride his bike.

It was a nice day, so why not? Grabbing his bag, he left when his parents did, waving them farewell as all three of them headed off in different directions.

The sun was still struggling to drag itself up over the horizon, sluggishly painting the dark sky with shades of red and yellow. Kageyama watched it as he crossed the train tracks (right on time). The bright orange reminded him of the mystery boy, and the dream came flooding back in without permission, causing him to cringe. It seemed he was unable to keep the image of him away, no matter how hard he tried.

As the train sped by behind him, Kageyama's school came into view and he struggled to clear his mind again. The last thing he needed was to be distracted in class so close to graduation. He was already walking a thin line keeping his grades up enough to play volleyball: one failed test at this point, and they would slip. And he'd flunk and his mom would kill him, not to mention the sports scholarship would be flushed down the drain.

Yeah; that was definitely a sobering thought.

That's it, then, he told himself as he crossed the school's threshold. Until graduation, no more thinking of him. Not until high school is well behind you and you're playing volleyball for a great college. He frowned. How hard can it really be? After all, it's only a few more weeks, then I'm free...

The last few weeks of school seemed to fly by. Before he knew it, Kageyama had miraculously (through lots of blood, sweat, and tears) managed to pass all his final exams and secured himself a position in any college he wanted to play volleyball. His parents were proud of him, he had ended his high school volleyball career on a high note, and he had secured a bright future for himself. Everything was going great.

Of course, all he had to do now was actually choose a school…

Most of his classmates had already made their choice, so Kageyama allied himself with the ones that hadn't yet, hoping to pick up a sliver of advice from the mix. So far, he'd been listening in, waiting to hear something helpful or interesting, but there'd been nothing. That is, until today: one of the last days available to pick his school. A group of boys were talking on their way out of the lunchroom and Kageyama happened to overhear them.

"Hey, did you hear about that so-called genius volleyball prodigy that chose to go to Harutō?"

"Harutō?" one of the other boys questioned. "Its team isn't very big. Why would he go there?"

He was right: Harutō was one of the smallest colleges in the prefecture, and definitely not one that was none for a stellar volleyball program. It had a small staff and a small student body, with a simple layout of campus buildings and dorms surrounded by a sprawling quad. Actually, thinking about it, it was pretty close to Kageyama's house...

"According to one of the freshmen girls, she heard he's looking for someone who lives around here," the boy's friend responded, causing Kageyama to tune back in. "Weird, huh?"

An unexplainable jolt shot down Kageyama's spine at those words. He's looking for someone who lives around here. For some reason, the information rattled him to his very core, causing him to frown as he continued listening. Odd...

One boy scoffed, still oblivious to Kageyama's eavesdropping. "You can say that again. What idiot would pick a school just because they're 'looking for someone'? Are they that important? It's ridiculous. Can't he just call them or something like a normal person?"

The group broke into laughter and moved farther ahead, leaving him behind, but Kageyama was officially intrigued now. He wondered the same exact thing as they did: Why would someone choose a school just to find someone? And he was supposedly a volleyball prodigy, too? What was that all about?

Interesting… He was still unable to get his mind around the fact that someone would ever think to choose one person over their entire future. Just how special was this person that he would up and throw away a chance to play for a great team? Kageyama frowned. Not that I would ever be that stupid, of course. I'm going to the school with the best volleyball team, obviously...

He continued walking, and even though he didn't know it then, Kageyama had already decided where he would choose to go, good volleyball program or not.