Crowned

He is twelve years old, watching from the sidelines as the king mounts his throne.

The gym is quiet. The only sound is the squeak of sneakers, the thwack of the ball rebounding off the court, the bated breath of the players as they fall into line.

The boy catches the ball. He's tall, brown-haired, confident, the ball a multicolored blur in his hands as he spins it. All eyes are on him as he tosses the ball. It tumbles through the air. The boy leaps, unfurls, flies. The ball soars over the net. The other team's defense dives, too late.

"Kageyama-kun!"

He jolts back. "Here!"

The coach jerks his chin. "Go warm up. We'll have a practice game with the first-years next."

Kageyama flushes. "Yes sir!"

The other first-years are already in the corner, fumbling through the stretches. He looks back over his shoulder. The game is in full swing now. The tall boy has retreated to the far end of the court, behind his teammates. The ball is flying back and forth, but Kageyama can't take his eyes off the boy. The ref blows his whistle. One of the boys changes the scoreboard. The tall boy catches the ball. The court turns to him breathlessly, waiting, watching-

"Kageyama-kun!"

He tears his gaze away. Behind him, the sound of footsteps turns into flight.

"Oikawa-senpai!"

Oikawa turns. He's much taller up close. Kageyama tilts his head back and tries not to fidget.

"Oh, it's one of the cute new underclassmen." Oikawa twirls the ball on one fingertip and smiles down at him. "What's up?"

The words almost burst out of him. "Can you teach me how to serve?"

Oikawa looks surprised for a moment, then he laughs. "You've only been here a week! Ambitious, aren't you?"

"I want to learn how to serve," Kageyama says. Oikawa considers. "Alright," he says, tossing the ball to him. "Show me what you've got."

Kageyama turns and promptly trips over his own feet. He catches himself and trots over to the back of the court, pink with embarrassment. Oikawa folds his arms, waiting.

Kageyama takes a deep breath and faces the net. The empty court looms up before him. He imagines the enemy team, their eyes locked on him, the breathless anticipation in his teammates, the taut line of their backs as they wait for him to give the first command.

He exhales and tosses the ball. It floats overhead. He leaps.

The court sprawls before him. Suddenly he's high, high over everyone, looking down from his throne.

His palm hits the ball. It spirals into the net. He lands, staggers, and topples over.

Oikawa sputters with laughter. "You're Tobio-chan, right?" he says, as Kageyama, red in the face, scrambles to his feet and recovers the ball. Kageyama nods, baffled by the 'chan'. Oikawa props his hands on his hips and smirks. "Well, Tobio-chan, you've got a long way to go. Try a regular serve first."

"I can do those already." Kageyama clutches the ball. "I want to learn to serve like you do."

"Then practice regular serves. You can't just skip the basics, you know." Oikawa walks over and beckons for the ball. Kageyama reluctantly hands it over. Oikawa hefts it and strolls over to the serving line. Kageyama steps back instinctively as he tosses the ball and rocks back. Leaps, unfurls, flies. The ball thwacks into the far corner of the court. Oikawa lands lightly and flashes him a broad smile. "Then maybe I'll teach you to serve."

Kageyama sets his jaw. Oikawa watches, bemused, as he ducks under the net, grabs the ball, and circles to face him at the far serving line. This time he doesn't try to jump. The ball soars neatly over the net and bounces off the center of the court, right in front of Oikawa. The older boy's eyes widen.

"I can do regular serves already," Kageyama says stubbornly. "I want to learn to serve like you do."

"Lucky." Oikawa's smile doesn't falter, but the look in his eyes has changed. He stoops to pick up the ball. "Do it again. Hit the left corner of the court this time."

Kageyama misses. Oikawa pats his shoulder. "Keep practicing the basics," he says, and saunters off.

The first years are practicing receives. Kageyama crouches down, arms at the ready, and almost misses as the coach says behind him, "Oh, Oikawa-kun."

"You wanted to see me, Coach?"

"Yeah. Have you met the first-years yet?"

"Yep! They're an ambitious bunch this year, aren't they?"

Kageyama pricks up his ears. Coach lowers his voice. He has to strain to hear him over the echoes in the gym. "That one there's Kageyama-kun. He's got a knack for controlling the ball. Obviously, he'll need to go through training for all the positions, but I want you to keep an eye on him and teach him how to set. He'll be your replacement after you graduate."

Kageyama forgets to crouch. The next ball bounces off his forehead. He winces and glares at his partner. The other first-year glares back and trots off to retrieve the ball.

"Hiya, Tobio-chan."

Kageyama jumps. Oikawa leans against the wall and folds his arms. "Eavesdropping's not very polite, you know," he says cheerfully. Kageyama's ears turn pink. He stares at the floor between his feet. Oikawa laughs and pats his shoulder. "Don't look so scared. You're still just a first-year. No one's counting on you for anything yet."

"Oikawa-senpai!"

"Hm?"

"Will you teach me to serve now?"

Oikawa tilts his head. "Hmm...I don't feel like it right now," he says brightly, and snorts at Kageyama's startled expression. "By the way," he adds, "it's not good to get distracted, you know."

The ball bounces off his cheek as he turns to look. His partner sticks his tongue out and makes a rude gesture.

"Switch positions!" Coach calls. Kageyama grudgingly trots off after the ball. When he glances back over his shoulder, Oikawa is back with the second-and-third-years as they line up for spiking practice. He doesn't look back at Kageyama for the rest of practice.

He gets used to Oikawa noticing whenever he makes mistakes, or gets distracted watching the older boys practice.

"Staying late again, Tobio-chan?"

Kageyama looks up from his stretches. Oikawa is a pale figure in the dimmed lights a few yards away. "Geez, don't you have a life? It's almost seven, you know."

Kageyama straightens up slowly and lets his taut muscles relax. The extra practice has been putting strain on his legs, and he's worried about a sprain. Their first official match is in two weeks. "I need the practice," he says. "If I get really good, Coach might let me play in the game."

Oikawa snorts. "You really are ambitious. First-years never get off the bench the first game."

"Coach says he let you play your first game." Kageyama tests his weight out on one leg, then the other. The extra stretches seem to help. "Oikawa-senpai, will you-"

"No." Oikawa says shortly. He seems irritable today for some reason. Kageyama decides against pushing it. "Did Coach ask you to lock up?"

"Yes, and I want to go home. Hurry up."

"You stay late almost every night."

"That's because I'm me and I can handle it. Little ambitious squirts should just stay at home."

"Oikawa-senpai, do you know how to avoid getting sprains?"

Oikawa swings the gym key impatiently. "Why?"

"I'm worried about getting a sprain before the game."

"Then don't practice as much."

"I need to," Kageyama says seriously. "I want to play."

Oikawa sighs. "You're a troublesome little squirt, you know that? Sit down. Which part are you worried about spraining?"

Kageyama brightens. "My calves. Ichijo-senpai said that calf sprains take the longest time to heal," he says, plopping down.

"Ichijo just likes to scare the first-years. Knees are the worst. Here." He leans forward and presses his palms flat against the soles of Kageyama's feet. "Now lean forward. Keep your toes straight as possible. Feel that?"

"It hurts," Kageyama says, surprised. Oikawa nods, looking satisfied with himself. "It's best if you do it against a wall so that you can flatten your feet against something. That'll stretch your calves."

"Have you ever sprained anything, Oikawa-senpai?"

"Nope. Now hurry up. If you made me late for dinner, you owe me a chocolate milk." Oikawa dusts his hands off on his shorts and picks up the gym key. "And you have to do my chores tomorrow."

"Okay."

"All the chores."

"All of them?"

"You better. You owe your generous senpai a lot, you know."

"Then will you-"

"No."

The gym is huge. Kageyama looks around wide-eyed as he files over to the benches with the other first-years. The second-and-third-years have already launched into their warm-up. Oikawa jogs at the head of the line. Kageyama watches him move from teammate to teammate, chatting, laughing, slapping their backs and dropping a friendly comment here, a casual remark there. He has something to say to everyone, even to the first-years warming the bench.

"Pay attention, alright?" he says, smile flashing. "It'll be you guys up there soon enough. You'll support us today, right?"

The first-years nod enthusiastically. Kageyama sits a little straighter, trying to catch Oikawa's eye, but the older boy never looks in his direction as he pats the first boy on the shoulder. "You'll cheer for us too, right, Kindaichi-kun?"

Kindaichi nods vigorously. Oikawa turns to the boy beside him. "Kunimi-kun, make sure to watch the middle blockers carefully, okay? You'll be playing with them next game."

Kunimi beams. "I will!"

Kageyama watches Oikawa head back to the court. The older boy never so much as glances at him. He hunches his shoulders and stares at the floor, wondering why.

He's never been very good with words. Not like Oikawa, who always knows what to say to everyone, even Iwaizumi, although Kageyama doesn't understand their interactions very much. He isn't very good at noticing things around him, either. Not like Oikawa, who notices the tiniest little things, who sees Kunimi start to stumble and changes the toss in a split second to give him time to recover. Kunimi barely makes the spike. "Sorry!"

"No worries! Nice save!" Oikawa calls back, waving a hand. "Kindaichi, nice receive!"

The first-year flushes. The second-and-third-years exchange grins and roll their eyes. "Quit spoiling the newbies, Oikawa!" one of them calls. Iwaizumi elbows him. "You didn't mind it so much when he was praising your receive, Hanabusa."

"Not like your receive, Iwai-chan," Oikawa says brightly. Iwaizumi whirls on him. "I was defending you, idiot!"

"Hm, really? I don't really need a defense, though, Iwai-chan."

"Shut up, Shittykawa."

Kageyama seizes the moment. "Oikawa-senpai-"

But Oikawa is already turning away, pretending not to hear. "Hey, Hanabusa, want to practice receives?"

"Uh, sure."

"Iwai-chan, you should join us. You need the practice."

Kageyama watches Oikawa duck the ball thrown at his face, and opens and closes his empty hands. The older boy didn't throw him a single toss.

"Iwaizumi-senpai."

Iwaizumi looks surprised at being followed into the storage closet. Kageyama launches straight into his question. "Does Oikawa-senpai hate me?"

A variety of emotions flash across Iwaizumi's face. Kageyama counts surprise, frustration, comprehension, and something else before the older boy recollects himself. "Beats me," he says, shrugging, and turns to reach for the mop. Kageyama follows him. "I don't understand why," he says, trying clumsily to fit into words what's been bothering him for weeks now. "I thought he hated you, too, but he acts different around you. Do you know why he hates me?"

Iwaizumi looks down into his wide, trusting black eyes, mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like I'm gonna kill that idiot, and sighs. "He doesn't hate you."

Kageyama looks up at him questioningly. Iwaizumi sighs again and rakes a hand through his spiky hair. "I know he's been avoiding you lately, but he's just dealing with some personal crap. Listen, don't worry about what Oikawa does. You're a good setter. Just keep practicing-"

"I want him to teach me."

Iwaizumi blows out his breath. "Why him?"

"Because he's the best," Kageyama says simply. "He's the king on the court. Everyone watches him. Everyone listens to him. I want to be better than him, so I need to learn how he does it."

Iwaizumi rubs his forehead. "That's not- I mean, he's an amazing setter, but he's not the only setter. There are plenty of people you could learn from. Saito's pretty good-"

"I want to learn from Oikawa-senpai," Kageyama says stubbornly.

"You're almost as stubborn as he is," Iwaizumi mutters. "Fine. Keep asking him. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Kageyama nods. Iwaizumi hesitates. Some inner moral conflict struggles across his face, then he grabs the mop and faces Kageyama again. "Try telling him why you want to learn from him," he says, and shoulders past with the mop.

It's their second match. Kageyama can barely keep still on the bench as the ball flies back and forth.

Kitagawa is struggling. He waits, taut with anticipation, for Oikawa's decisive serve to crush the enemy morale, for the split second of seeing the invisible throne shine high over the court, to imagine, just for a moment, the sight from the top.

But it never comes. Oikawa fumbles his second serve. Kageyama sees Coach frown, lean down to murmur to the manager, wave at the ref.

And then the words he was waiting to hear come, and he's shaking from excitement as he steps onto the court, and he's too giddy to see Oikawa's face until the serve is over, and he catches a glimpse through the blur of cheers and adrenaline and net.

He had forgotten, in the rush of the moment, that when he daydreamed of being called in, it was always alongside Oikawa, never replacing him.

"Oikawa-senpai-"

He doesn't understand what happens. He doesn't understand why Iwaizumi is suddenly holding Oikawa's wrist, his grip white-knuckled, or what the older boy is yelling about. He doesn't understand the look on Oikawa's face when he lunged forward.

Iwaizumi had said that Oikawa didn't hate him. Iwaizumi was Oikawa's childhood friend. He knew him best. He had no reason to lie. Kageyama had believed him. He had thought it was just disappointment from sitting out on the game. He could understand that. He had thought maybe Oikawa was genuinely busy when he ignored him. He had thought that there was a good reason. There must have been a good reason.

He had thought that when Oikawa stopped speaking to him, it was because of something he must have done. He was bad at noticing things. He must not have noticed something. There must have been a reason. The king wouldn't just do something for no reason.

He had thought the king liked him.

Oikawa apologizes the next day. Kageyama nods politely and asks him to teach him to serve for the last time. He still doesn't understand. But he's learned.

The king of the court doesn't have to be close to anyone. He can rule from afar, and still be a good king. That's what a setter is, after all. He's the control tower of the team. He's the king. He commands the players, positions them, sets for them. It was the king's job to rule the court firmly, skillfully, to never make a mistake and never to show weakness. The weak could never be king. Oikawa taught him that. But that was why Oikawa was never weak. He was always unshakably king. He was a good king.

That's why he didn't understand why Oikawa would sometimes look at him, and he would see the same burning desire reflected in his eyes. The desire to be king. He didn't understand. He was no where near the throne yet. He still had so far to go. He still needed to learn so much from him.

And yet, sometimes Oikawa looked at him as if he had already taken the crown.

He is thirteen, watching from the court as the ball soars towards him. Every command is ready, every toss perfect.

Faster. Faster. Do better. Move quicker. React sooner. Faster. Faster.

The new first-years are watching wide-eyed from the bench. His heart is thudding against his rib cage.

Faster. Faster. This has to be perfect.

He's been waiting to take the throne for two years.

But when he hears them finally say it, it's bitter, mocking, an insult, not a crown.

King of the Court.

A/N

This is a rough one-shot I wrote at four am which may or may not lead to some heavier, even-angstier Oikage when both of them are older.