Wakatoshi has never thought about losing before. Sure, there were a couple of times he lost on the international level, but he has never lost in Japan. Sure, never in the Prefecturals, not even in the Nationals...
And yet, today Karasuno won.
Karasuno and that freak duo managed to make there way to him and they beat him. They were (still are, always will be) bothersome, and Wakatoshi kind of regrets not having given his best ever since the beginning of the game. Shiratorizawa should have taken that fourth set, without trying to spare Wakatoshi's strength. He should have given his best...
And now he is walking down the street, his team left behind at school. He remembers seeing Satori cry. He remembers hearing Kenjirō's apologies. And even though it happened only a few hours ago, it feels like it happened ages ago.
It feels strange...
When he turns the corner to make his way into the park, he hears a familiar voice cursing.
He could never mistake it.
Gold looks up.
"Good evening, Oikawa."
The setter is rather far away from him, those big hazel eyes are staring at him, piercing through him, tearing off his skin and muscles and bones apart.
"How did the game go?"
Wakatoshi blinks. "We lost."
Tooru's lips are curving up ever so slightly, but Wakatoshi doesn't see happiness in that expression. Perhaps a little bit of satisfaction, but it is not happiness.
"I know."
Wakatoshi raises an eyebrow. "Then why did you ask?"
Tooru lets out a quiet chuckle, his eyes look away and lose themselves in an indefinite spot behind the wing spiker. "I just wanted to hear you say it."
The grey sky above them is brightened by a roaring thunder. It starts to rain. Wakatoshi feels every single droplet fall on his head and shoulders. They are heavy, rich...
But Tooru doesn't move.
So Wakatoshi doesn't move either.
There is a long moment of silence, until hazel eyes meet gold again.
"Next time, it'll be me..."
A shaky breath.
"Next time, I'll be the one to beat you."
Wakatoshi says nothing in return, instead takes a step forward. And then another one. And another... Until there are only mere inches between them. Tooru's eyes are cold, distant. "I should have been the one to beat you," he whispers.
The rain is now pouring and they are both soaked to the bone, but they keep looking at each other.
"You should have come to Shiratorizawa," Wakatoshi says at some point. "You should have been my setter."
In response, he receives a laugh. A derisive laugh, and still so light. "You never learn, huh?" Tooru says in disbelief. "Even after you got your ass kicked, you still act as if you were the strongest."
"It is not what I meant."
"Yes, it is."
Wakatoshi's hand catches his wrist. "I am saying that, had you been with me, we would not be having this conversation, nor would we stand here defeated. We could have won."
Tooru shakes his head. "You can't know that." He doesn't wait for anything else and walks past Wakatoshi.
"I won't regret my choices, Ushijima."
They don't look at each other, don't say their goodbyes (because they are going to see each other again), though Wakatoshi doesn't stop thinking about it, not even when he is finally back home.
Had they been together, on the same team, they would have won.
He knows.