May 5th, 2018

Yahaba smiled in the mirror as he made final adjustments to his hair. Tonight was the night—his second date with Yachi.

Tonight, he would ask her out.

She would say yes, and they would be together for the rest of their days.

Satisfied, Yahaba grabbed his jacket from the coat hanger on the way out, said goodbye to Goshiki, and closed the door behind him.

March 1st, 2009

He could do nothing but stand at the door, his backpack slung over one shoulder as he gazed blankly at the hustle and bustle in the house. When he finally found his voice, his mother had put on her best scarf and was adjusting her hat—it was adorned with decorative flowers; his mother adored flowers—and his father was adjusting his tie, muttering something before checking his wristwatch. "Mom. Dad. Where are you going?"

"Ah, Shigeru," his mother gave him a brief glance, "We're flying to Hokkaido."

Yahaba didn't even flinch, already used to his parents jetting off with little to no notice. "Hokkaido?"

"That's right," his father added. "Your cousin's discovered a new galaxy—even the Prime Minister is going to congratulate him at the ceremony!"

"Wait," Yahaba said without much conviction, feeling as drab as he looked. "What about me?"

"Dear, we're going to be late," his mother said crisply, speaking to his father. Quickly, she gave Yahaba a kiss on the forehead. He could feel remnants of her crimson lipstick clinging to his dry skin. "Remember not to answer the door, and only pick up the phone if it's a familiar number."

And just like that, they were gone, wheeling along a single suitcase with them.

Yahaba closed the door when they were out of sight, dropping his backpack and padding to the kitchen. He almost slipped more than once, little friction between his socks and the cold tiles. He checked everywhere—the oven, the microwave, the fridge.

Perhaps it had been foolish of him to have expected a birthday cake.

Because Yahaba was invisible—at school and at home.

"You have zero personality," the captain of the baseball club had informed him today, rather bluntly so. "No one wants to hang out with you, Yahaba."

His feet dragged as he went upstairs to the bathroom to stare intently at his own reflection in the mirror. The kids at school were pretty remarkable compared to him, he thought as he pulled his cheeks back so that the lining of his gum was exposed. He was missing a tooth in the top row—it had wobbled out a few days ago. His parents had promised him braces, but he didn't know when they would go through with their vow. Yahaba didn't think he was ugly. But he wasn't terribly good-looking either, with his dull, flat hair and expressionless eyes; maybe that was another problem of his.

At least his skin, while dry and flaky, was free of acne.

Yahaba laughed in the mirror, watching his reflection as he did so. Then he stopped. The corners of his mouth sagged a little, and his brows were pinched in a perpetual frown that made him look more unattractive than he actually was.

The only thing that he had going for him was volleyball—he was the setter of the boy's team at his middle school, an irreplaceable member.

Other than that, however, the boy well and truly knew one thing.

That Yahaba Shigeru was the shadow of a nobody.

August 21st, 2009

Akiyama Junior High were facing up against a powerhouse of a school today—Kitagawa Daiichi. Yahaba blended in with the rest of his teammates, watching Kitagawa's team warm up from afar. They certainly looked strong, but there only one boy that captured his attention immediately.

"Yosh!" Oikawa Tooru clapped his hands together, attracting the focus of his teammates. "I'm trusting you guys today! When we win, why don't we all head for ramen?"

Yahaba's own captain sneered at the opposing captain from across the net. "Feh... So this is the famed Oikawa Tooru... He doesn't look like much. It's hard to believe someone like him faced off against that monster Ushiwaka."

Yahaba noticed that his captain made sure that his words went unheard. He's even intimidated captain. Somehow.

Awed, Yahaba did not notice a ball spiraling toward his face during practice serving.

"Look out!"

A hand shot out in front of him, catching the ball. Yahaba turned his head to see who the arm was connected to—it was Kitaichi's vice. Iwaizumi Hajime cocked a brow at his stunned expression before smirking slightly. "Hey, don't look like a deer caught in the headlights. We're 'boutta play a match soon." He chucked the ball in the air, Yahaba catching it.

"Ah," he stuttered. "Thanks..."

"Yoohoo~! Iwa-chan!" Oikawa practically skipped over to where they were standing, tilting his head curiously at the sight of Yahaba, who was trying to shrink into his shirt collar like a frightened turtle. "Consolidating with the enemy, are we? You should've let him get hit in the face—he deserved it for not paying attention."

Iwaizumi elbowed him. "Shuddup, Shittykawa. Unlike you, I have something called human decency."

"I'm thankful for his help!" Yahaba blurted.

"Oh? Is that so?" Oikawa scrutinized him even closer. "Akiyama Junior High... I think I played your team once, back in my first year. Right, Iwa-chan?"

"The hell should I know?"

Yahaba fidgeted, spinning the ball in his hands. He would've still been in elementary school when these two were first years. "So," he said, unwilling to allow them to leave so quickly, "You guys are Kitaichi's captains, right...? What positions do you play?"

"Setter," declared Oikawa, smugly.

"Wing spiker," Iwaizumi said at the same time. He didn't have the same amount of presence that Oikawa did, but there was a quiet confidence in his words, and a steely edge in his tone.

Oikawa clutched his spiker's shoulder. "Not just any wing spiker," he boasted. "He's my ace."

Iwaizumi cleared his throat, the slightest flush on his cheeks. "Enough of this," he grunted, pulling Oikawa away. "You still haven't done twenty serves yet."

"Aww, but Iwa-chan...!"

"Hey," Yahaba said to his captain when they were getting into positions. "What high school do Kitaichi graduates usually go to? Do you know?"

The captain shot him a weird look. "No. Should I?"

"Never mind."

Yahaba knew his team was strong, but he also knew that Kitagawa Daiichi's team was stronger. Oikawa played like a demon, and Iwaizumi was equally terrifying—the amount of force he put in each spike impressed Yahaba immensely. There were a horde of Kitaichi reserve players on the bench, too—some onion-head kid was talking to his friends about how he was sure he was going to become a regular next year—while Akiyama's reserve players totaled to two.

"Good game," Yahaba's captain bit out when they shook hands under the net.

Oikawa grinned, apparently not noticing the thinly veiled hostility. "Good game."

Yahaba's team had lost all three practice matches.

It was humbling, to say the least, and Yahaba looked on in envy as Oikawa and Iwaizumi were swarmed by their teammates, all offering hearty congratulations and whooping at the prospect of ramen later today. Where he was standing, with his own teammates, there was no such celebration going on.

I want to be there, he thought, his grip on his drink bottle tightening. Oikawa Tooru was the centre of attention. I want to be there, too.

"I'll confess to Sayori-chan," Oikawa was saying excitedly as they left as a group. As a team.

A blonde girl about their age skipped after him, eyes wide and shining.

"Damn," Yahaba heard one of his own teammates say, "She's hella cute."

Iwasaki Sayori was blonde and pretty and had a personality like gentle sunshine. Yahaba would find all this out later, but for now, he made note of one thing.

Oikawa likes blondes.

That day, Yahaba developed a taste for blondes, too.

April 1st, 2011

Finally.

He squared his shoulders, gripping the straps of his backpack tightly as he peered up at Aobajosai's grand school building.

High school. Yahaba tried a smile. It was one he had practiced to perfection in the mirror—one he had learned from Oikawa Tooru when they had crossed paths for the first time. These are supposed to be the best years of my life.

Two years had passed since he had met Oikawa, and in those two years, the burden of invisibility he carried had significantly lightened. His skin was no longer dry or flaky—he had stated using moisturizer—and his hair had volume and (some) shine (thanks to a perm and some hair care products), bangs no longer falling so gloomily over his eyes. He was still a little plain-looking, in his own opinion, but he was... cute.

"Ohhh, Yahaba-kun, is that you?" a black-haired girl sidled up next to him, beaming. It was Tsuji Runa, looking pretty and prim as always. They'd both gone to Akiyama Junior High, though they'd only ever shared one class together. She was wearing the slightest hint of makeup, her lips slick with gloss and her high cheeks tinted with rouge. "You chose Seijoh, too? That's awesome!"

Tsuji, Yahaba remembered, had been popular. She'd been Akiyama's beloved princess, and boys had fawned over her traditional beauty. Yahaba returned her smile, a gesture in the banks of his muscle memory. "Good morning, Tsuji-san. I didn't realize you'd be going here, too."

"Aww." She pouted as they walked through the gates together. "So mean, Yahaba-kun. Would you have gone somewhere else if you'd known?"

"Of course not. I'm glad you're here with me, Tsuji-san."

Predictably, Tsuji blushed, finding the concrete path incredibly interesting all of a sudden. "G-geez, don't say things like that, Yahaba-kun... Keep that up, and I might fall for you."

It was friendly teasing, he realized, and he was determined to keep it going. "Maybe you—gyak!" Yahaba bit down hard on his own tongue when a male student shoved him aside with nary a glance. "Oi! Come back here!"

"What?" The student whirled around, lip curled. With his blond hair—cropped short—and piercing honey eyes, he cut an intimidating figure. Tsuji trembled beneath his gaze, but Yahaba stood strong. He would not let this delinquent cow him.

"Oh, I dunno," sarcasm rolled off his tongue with ease, "Maybe you should apologize?" Ugh. Who is this fucker?

A vein popping in his cheek, the other boy stalked up to Yahaba, who couldn't help but blink at the height difference between them. He was... short. Shorter up close at least. Yahaba had to tilt his chin down.

"I'm sorry," the boy jeered, "That you couldn't move your big head outta the way in time."

What the hell is his problem?! "Wait—so I'm at fault here? You're the one who charged through like a baby rhinoceros! Have some basic awareness!"

"Stop whining, bitch."

"You bastard—!"

"Yahaba-kun, that's enough!" Tsuji cried, grabbing his arm. "There's no point in fighting bad guys." She glared at the aggressive student. "Bad guys will be bad guys. He's not worth your time."

"If there's anything I hate more than pretty boys like you, it's mouthy fan girls."

"I'm no fan girl," Tsuji stated, braver than Yahaba had initially thought she would be. She marched up to him and prodded him in the chest indignantly. "But you can't just go around treating people like that! Jerk!" With that, she took Yahaba by the hand and dragged him off. "Hmph," she sniffed. "I hate guys like that."

"Yeah," Yahaba agreed gravely, glowering behind his shoulder. "Me too."

So, of course, they ended up on the same team.

March, 2011

There were, including him, a total of three first years on the boy's volleyball team. His two fellow first years were called Watari Shinji and Kyoutani Kentarou. Watari had a head full of hair that made him look like a rock star, and he was the less problematic first year. Over the first month together with them, Yahaba formed an amiable bond with Watari. Watari was the reserve libero, while Yahaba was the reserve setter.

Kyoutani, though...

"Does he only communicate in grunts?" Yahaba deadpanned one day, he and Watari going through stretches on the floor. Some distance away, Kyoutani was having some sort of confrontation with an upperclassman that was more sounds than words.

Watari chuckled. "That's Kyoutani-san for you."

"How can you say that? That dude's a horror."

"He's not that bad." Watari was diplomatic. "I'm sure he's not rude all the time."

The argument ended with Kyoutani throwing a drink bottle so hard against the wall that it cracked on impact.

Yahaba gave Watari a wry glance. "You sure about that?"

"Sure. If you're rude and mean all the time, you'll get tired quickly. We're athletes, so we can't afford that."

It seemed logical enough, Yahaba supposed. He wasn't so convinced, though—with the way Kyoutani played, he was more inclined to believe that the blond had a nigh infinite supply of energy. Enough energy to the aggressor in every social situation he put himself in.

"Yooo, Mad-dog-chan!"

And there he was. Oikawa Tooru. Fearless and friendly as he approached the raging Kyoutani. He had his hands tucked in his shorts and his posture was decidedly relaxed—no matter what, Yahaba couldn't bring himself to tear his gaze away.

"Why so mad, huh?"

"Fuck off," Kyoutani hissed, dodging Oikawa.

"Is your hand hurt?" Oikawa asked, trotting after him. "You should get the nurse to check that."

His hand is hurt? Yahaba did a double-take before noticing the way Kyoutani was holding his wrist to his chest. There was a speck of blood on his skin—he must have cut himself on a piece of the hard plastic bottle.

"Look at that Oikawa," one of the third years said as he walked past Watari and Yahaba, talking to his friend. "Chasing after that bleeding fuck."

It was no secret that most—if not all—of the current third years particularly disliked Kyoutani. Yahaba couldn't even blame them. Kyoutani constantly undermined their authority as underclassmen, both on and off the court.

"It's fine, so shut up," growled Kyoutani, whipping around to try and glare Oikawa into submission.

Yahaba watched carefully, not really hearing whatever Watari was saying about the situation.

"It doesn't look fine," pointed out Oikawa. He reached out toward him, but Kyoutani ruthlessly smacked his hand aside.

"Quit it! Why do you care so much, anyway?!"

"Oh boy." Yahaba noticed Iwaizumi standing by them for the first time, a towel slung around his neck.

"He's not going to punch Oikawa-san, is he?" Watari wondered.

Iwaizumi grimaced. "Nah. Well, maybe. But it's not him I'm worried about. Besides," he lifted up a muscled arm, "Shittykawa can handle a few hits if it comes to that."

Watari laughed heartily. "You sound like you're speaking from experience, Iwaizumi-san."

"I care," Oikawa's voice rose, carrying across the gym, "About the performance of our team." There was no longer any laughter or airs in his tone, just hard truth. It sent a chill down Yahaba's spine, and even the easygoing Watari shifted in discomfort. "You're part of that, too, Mad-dog-chan. Do you think it's just you on the team? Because you're not. So stop being so selfish. It's annoying." Then, as if he had never said those things, he guffawed. "That being said, you're a pretty good hitter! And it's my job as setter to bring out the best in each of my teammates, which is why I'm badgering you. It's too bad you have such a rotten personality. Ahahaha!"

Iwaizumi palmed his face. "This coming from that guy..."

"What would you do then?" Yahaba inquired, sounding almost accusatory.

"Me?" Iwaizumi raised a brow. "I'd just whack some sense into him."

For an uncomfortably long amount of time, Kyoutani just stared at Oikawa, who stared back, smiling. Before Yahaba could open his mouth to say something, Oikawa took a step toward Kyoutani, and the blond leaped backward like a startled animal.

"Oh?" Oikawa seemed bemused by this new development. "That's interesting. Is this some wild animal instinct you have?"

"He can just sense you're a terrible person!" Iwaizumi shouted across the court.

"Read the room, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa yelled back, turning his head to the side. "I was just starting to get through to him!" He turned again to face Kyoutani, but the younger boy had already put some distance between them, disappearing out the door.

"More like you chased him off," a second year, Hanamaki, snorted.

"I don't blame him. Oikawa's a scary guy," hummed Matsukawa. "When he wants to be, at least. He's just an idiot clown most of the time."

"Aw, come on!" whined Oikawa. "I'm not that bad!"

"If I squeeze your nose, will it honk?"

"Makki!"

The job of the setter is to bring out the best of his teammates, huh? Yahaba mulled over Oikawa's words in his head, turning them over and over again like a spitfire roast. Resolve hardening, Yahaba stood, making Watari flinch. "I'm going after him," he announced, making heads turn. "Keep playing without me."

"Well, well, well," mused Oikawa as Yahaba left, walking to Iwaizumi. "Look's like Yahaba-kun has a little fire in him after all."

Iwaizumi let out a noncommittal grunt, throwing his towel aside.

Yahaba found Kyoutani sitting on a grassy hill outside the gym. He made sure his approaching footsteps were heavy enough to be heard before lowering himself next to him. "Hey."

Kyoutani's nose scrunched up. "What do you want?"

"Why are you so angry all the time?" Yahaba got straight to the point.

"Th'fuck? I'm not angry."

"Uh. Then what was that little display back there? Do you not remember throwing your drink bottle against the wall like it killed your dog?"

"What?" Kyoutani's eyes widened in alarm. "What happened to Cookie?!"

Cookie? Is that his dog? "Nothing happened to Cookie!" Yahaba hastily reassured, raising his hands. "Cookie's fine... Kyoutani-san."

"Just Kyoutani. I hate that formal shit."

"Kyoutani," Yahaba tried again, "If you're not angry, then why..."

Thankfully, Kyoutani seemed to be able to grasp what he was getting at. Grumbling, he picked up a rock and threw it down the hill. It hit the gate. "'Cause they're idiots," he said cruelly. "And idiots are fucking annoying. Especially the third years—they're the biggest idiots I've ever met." He turned to Yahaba. "You are, too."

"Gee, thanks."

"The senpai are always going on about respect," Kyoutani went on, "Without making themselves respectable first."

Yahaba kept his expression neutral. It wasn't difficult. "I see."

"You're no better."

"I don't care what you think."

Kyoutani sneered. "Yeah, you do. You care about what everyone thinks." Yahaba balked and tried to respond, but Kyoutani wasn't done. "You're a people-pleaser. You always agree with whatever the senpai say, and you always try to copy them, too. Especially that Oikawa guy."

"Oikawa-san," Yahaba said firmly. "Is a person worth respecting. I don't know about the third years, but Oikawa-san... He's worth listening to."

Kyoutani didn't respond, deliberating his answer. He did it for so long that Yahaba began to wonder if dragging pauses were just a thing with Kyoutani Kentarou. "Yeah, maybe," he admitted, begrudgingly. "So that's why you wanna be like him? So people listen to you?"

"I... Yeah, so what? So what if I do?"

"Well, don't be."

Yahaba blinked. "Huh?"

"Are you fucking deaf?" Kyoutani snapped. "Stop trying so hard, it's fucking creepy. You're not Oikawa, dumbass, you're... Wait, what's your name?"

"You don't even know my name?!"

"Who cares?!"

"Me! I care!"

"Just tell me your name, dammit!"

Yahaba spluttered. "Fuck, that just makes me not wanna do that!"

"You're seriously that petty?!"

"Yes! Yes, I am! But I really wanna know what you're gonna say, so fine! My name is Yahaba! My name is Yahaba Shigeru!"

Kyoutani deadpanned at him. "Was it really that hard?" He laid down on the grass. "You basically finished my sentence, anyway, so whatever."

"What?!"

"You gotta problem with that?"

Aggressively, Yahaba copied his posture, down to even the crossed leg. "You're pissing me off."

"Good. At least I'm not the only one that's pissed, you twat."

Yahaba's cheek pressed against the grass as he turned to face Kyoutani. "So that's it, then? We're just skipping practice like two sad sacks?"

"No one's forcing you to be here." Kyoutani's leg swayed lazily as he observed the sky. "But if you really need to hang around me... Then stop being someone you're not. It's fucking annoying as hell. If you keep doing it, I'll punch you in your chameleon mug, and then your precious Oikawa, too."

"Way to resort to violence," Yahaba muttered, brow lowering.

He didn't know how long they were there for until a shadow loomed over them, and they both rolled their eyes up to see the curious stare of Tsuji Runa, who was dressed in her softball uniform, most of her silky black hair hidden in her cap. "Um... Yahaba-kun? Aren't you supposed to be at practice? Why are you with," she frowned a little, unable to hide her dislike, "Kyoutani-san?"

"We're skipping club," Kyoutani droned before Yahaba could reply.

Yahaba fully expected Tsuji to scold them and then run for a teacher, but she just sat cross-legged above their heads. "And why is that, hm?"

"No reason," said Yahaba.

At the same time, Kyoutani stated, "It's a waste of my damn time, that's why."

Tsuji rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me he's influencing you, Yahaba-kun."

"I'm not doing a damn thing, bitch."

"Ugh! You're incorrigible! Ew, is your hand bleeding?! Go see the nurse!"

"You can't stop yapping, can you? The bleeding stopped a while ago, idiot girl!"

"Guys, guys," Yahaba sighed. "Stop fighting before a teacher catches us. Tsuji-chan, maybe you should sit lower so nobody sees your head."

Taking his advice, Tsuji wriggled between the two of them, much to Kyoutani's irritation. She proceeded to lay down on the grass, mimicking them. "I swear," she mumbled, "We're all gonna get in trouble."

"Then leave," retorted Kyoutani.

"I can't! I'm not leaving Yahaba-kun with you."

"Do you think I'm gonna eat him or something?!"

"Guys," Yahaba said loudly. "Stop. Why don't we all calm down, hm? Let's gaze at the clouds. Or something."

To his bemusement, they actually listened. Tsuji listening wasn't a shock, but Kyoutani...

Maybe, realized Yahaba, remembering what Watari had said about anger tiring them quickly, Kyoutani's tired, too. His eyes shifted so that could see Kyoutani in his peripheral, over Tsuji's nose, which looked like a mountain up close, but was button-like and cute in reality. The blond's eyes were nearly completely closed, the drifting clouds lulling him to a slumber.

Yahaba took a deep breath before exhaling.

Here, with them, he wasn't Oikawa.

He was Yahaba.

And for the first time, that was okay.

November 15th, 2012

So why? Yahaba demanded silently, distraught as Irihata's mouth moved but no sound came out to him. Why couldn't it keep being okay?

Iwaizumi hadn't come to school today.

Now, they all knew why.

"NO!" Hanamaki bellowed, tears gathering in his eyes. He started to laugh—it was mirthless and void. "Hah... Hahahaha! This is a joke! This is a joke, right, coach?!"

Irihata's mouth pressed together grimly, and Mizoguchi looked torn.

As Hanamaki's laugh dissolved into something tearful and hysterical, Yahaba turned desperately to Kyoutani, who had yet to say a word to the news. The blond was just staring at the wall, his knees hugged close to his chest and looking smaller than Yahaba had ever seen him.

"Well, you got us!" crowed Hanamaki, standing and spreading his arms. "You got us, good, Oikawa, even getting the coaches and Iwaizumi in on this! Come out, already! Come out, already, Oikawa!"

"Makki," Matsukawa choked out, pressing his fist to his mouth as he tried to hold back tears. "Makki, stop. Please stop. I... I listened to the morning radio, and..."

"The radio?!" Hanamaki's eyes widened, the first tears of the day falling as he smiled, the corners of his lips twitching erratically. "Oikawa... You even got the radio in on this, too?! That's some fucking dedication right there, so just come out and say you got us good, okay?!"

"Hanamaki, please," Kunimi begged—actually begged—like his life was on the line. He was holding hands with Kindaichi, their knuckles so white Yahaba thought their hands had been stripped of flesh, leaving only bone behind. And Kunimi's eyes... They were swollen and puffy, as if he had been crying before this. "Please shut up, oh my god—"

"Why should he?!" Kyoutani suddenly exploded. "He's right! Fucking Oikawa... Always fucking around...!"

"Kentarou," Yahaba whispered, unheard.

Because nobody ever wanted to hear him, did they?

"See?!" Hanamaki pointed wildly at Kyoutani. "He agrees! This is all just a prank!"

"It's not a prank!" Mizoguchi burst out, taking a step forward toward where Hanamaki was staggering. "Takahiro, sit down, please. I..." He swallowed thickly.

Even the coaches don't know what to do, Yahaba thought, lowering his gaze so that his dull stare was pointed at his hands—smooth skin with the occasional callous on the palm, perfectly clipped nails; a setter's hands. When he peered up again, Mizoguchi had pulled Hanamaki into a tight embrace, the pink-haired third year wailing at the ceiling and trying to wrestle himself from Mizoguchi. Irihata and Matsukawa stepped around the assembled group to help the younger coach in calming Hanamaki down.

"I," Kindaichi stammered, balking as he watched Hanamaki break down. "This can't be real..." He brought his hands up to his head and squeezed around his skull, his breaths shallow. "My head... It hurts so much...!"

"Oh, who gives a fuck?!" Kyoutani roared, aiming his glare at Kindaichi, who cowered. "Stop your fucking whining because this isn't the damn time!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Kunimi hissed. "You shut the fuck up, Mad-dog!"

Kyoutani scrambled to his feet. "Th'fuck did you just call me?! Come over here and fucking make me, you lazy fuck! I'll beat the shit outta you!"

"Kentarou, no!" Yahaba shouted, going ignored once more.

Two of the third years—Sawauchi and Shido—grabbed Kyoutani and held him back, Kunimi standing defensively over where Kindaichi was huddled. Feeling like he needed to take some sort of action, Yahaba got to his feet and stood with Kunimi.

"You're on his side?" spat Kyoutani.

Yahaba's voice wavered. "I'm not on anyone's side. Kentarou, there isn't a side—"

"There is! Mine or these two whiny-ass bitches'! You know what?" With terrifying ease, he wrested himself out of the third years' grip. "I'm done. I'm fucking done with all this shit."

With that, he stormed out of the gym, and Yahaba could only stare after him helplessly before turning back to the carnage. Hanamaki was no longer trying to fight. Instead, he was in Matsukawa's arms, sobbing violently into his shirt. Matsukawa seem to be in some sort of cathartic state, nothing on his mien to show that he was aware of the tears slipping down his cheeks.

Frazzled, Irihata and Mizoguchi gave the two their space.

Kunimi was still glowering balefully at the door, and Kindaichi was wrapping his jacket tightly around himself, still holding his head to try and ease the throbbing migraines. Yuda, a third year, was sniffling quietly into his hands, his shoulders occasionally wracking with a sob.

The coaches didn't say anything. Couldn't say anything to sweep up the wanton disarray that they had fallen into.

Wait, Yahaba wanted to say. How could this happen? How had everything fallen apart so fast, smashed to pieces? Everything Yahaba had ever known and loved... It was gone. Gone with Oikawa.

Wait. Please, Yahaba wanted to implore. Please slow down. He needed time. He needed time. Everything was happening too quickly, and he needed time.

Yahaba's feet felt heavy, as if they had been rooted into the ground. Even if he wanted to chase after Kyoutani, he wouldn't be able to. Oikawa's dead. Oikawa's dead. Where's Iwaizumi? His throat tightened. Where's Iwaizumi? Oikawa's dead. Oikawa's dead. It was like a part of him had died, too.

The back of his eyes burned, and he finally let it all go and gave into the pressure, burying his face into his arms.

Outside the gym, Tsuji pressed her back against the wall and cried softly into her winter mittens.

Cried for the tragedy that they had all found themselves in the midst of.

A/N: Backstory time! Just like with Kageyama, Yahaba gets a backstory spanning over more than one chapter. His will be shorter, though, just two chapters. Then we'll get back to the main story (will probably happen toward the end of the next chapter). Sorry if you find this tiring, but I do this intentionally to show the waves that the killer has made. The mystery isn't the only part of the story—it's the impact of the killer's actions, too.

Also, Iwaizumi's first official appearance, as a child, though :D