Karasuno's #10, Shoyou Hinata, died in a traffic accident.

He was riding his bicycle at night, when a black sedan sent him flying several feet away from where he was.

Shouyou's spine was broken, but the main cause of his death was his broken rib, which pierced his heart.

He wouldn't fly anymore. Even if he survived.

And Tobio thought it was all because of him.

If it weren't for the rest of his teammates, he wouldn't even be able to attend Shouyou's funeral. He was too numb to cry at that time. Natsu embraced him, and their mother did not blame Tobio.

"He wouldn't end up like this," Tobio whispered. "If I just refused his invitation. We could have just practiced the next day, when it's bright. He could have just stayed at home. I could have just told him to wait until tomorrow. I—"

"It can't be helped," Daichi cut in. "If you go on blaming yourself like that, you'll end up carrying things you shouldn't even carry."

He bit his lower lip. Clenched fists, he murmured, "I deserve every bit of it. Shouyou he—he had so many things in his mind we're supposed to enter the nationals together I—"

"Should carry on walking," Koushi cut in, his eyes fixed on Shouyou's portrait: grinning carelessly, fiery hair glimmering beneath the summer sun. "Kageyama, don't let this be your excuse to stop now. You can cry. You can be sad. But don't you dare give up."

"Hinata wouldn't like it, knowing the very rival he held on to, has the tendency to wallow himself in self-condemnation," Ryunosuke concluded. He sniffed, and scratched the tip of his nose with his index finger. "At least, that's the idea I get."

Yuu patted Tobio's back. "And we're here. Because we're family."

Those words helped Tobio.

Just not enough for him to stay in the team.

Just not enough to keep the razor away from his skin.

-::-

Hitoka was the first one to notice the slits.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her tiny hands giving warmth to Tobio's arms. "Are the occasional bruises you get from volleyball not enough?"

"Your tongue can be sharp at times."

"If it's what I have to do to get through you, I wouldn't hesitate to talk to you like this!" she bit her lower lip, and looked up at him. Her stare was serious. "Sugawara-san said it's okay to be sad. But please, don't hurt yourself like this…"

Her grip on him tightened.

"Yachi—"

"We're all hurting," she cut in. "But if you do this…if you do this…"

Tobio's eyes softened up. He gently broke free from Hitoka's grasp, and wrapped his hands around hers. "Shouyou loved you, you know?"

The floodgates opened. And beneath the cold, dreary sky, the two friends cried in silence.

-::-

"Tobi-nii."

He looked at Natsu, who was firmly holding his hand. Her mother called Tobio earlier, asking if he could pick her little girl up from school that spring afternoon. Cherry blossoms fell down abundantly—a pink storm, bursting with scents of flowers and pastel-colored laughter.

"What is it?"

"What's that?" she pointed at the scars on his wrist. "I can see it from here. What's that? Did you hurt yourself?"

A pause. "I did."

"Do you want a Band-Aid?"

He smiled, and said, "Sure."

The both of them stopped walking. Natsu let go of Tobio before fishing something out from her school bag. She pulled out a can, carefully opened it (she subconsciously began to pout) and took three strips of plaster, patterned with volleyballs against an orange background. Tobio got down on one of his knees to meet her in the eye, and Natsu carefully placed the plasters on his scars.

"Be careful next time, all right?" she asked.

He nodded. "Hm."

A child was what it took, for Tobio to fight the urge of harming himself once again.