November 16th, 2012

Yahaba woke up in the darkness of his bedroom, blinking blearily up at the ceiling. As soon as consciousness set in, everything that had happened yesterday came flooding back, and he almost cried right then and there.

Hanamaki's breakdown.

Kindaichi's headaches.

Kyoutani's outburst.

Yuda's quiet sobbing.

And he saw himself, too, standing there uselessly as his teammates fell apart.

Listlessly, he turned in his bed to check his alarm clock. It was half past six. Now what? It was a Friday, meaning that it was a school day, but Yahaba wasn't sure if he wanted to go to school today. But then, he sat up, If I don't go to school, where else would I go?

He couldn't stay in the house—he could already hear his mother coming down the corridor looking for her appointment book, which she always seemed to misplace. Ever since his second year of high school had begun, his parents had started paying a lot more attention to his studies than ever before. They had probably realized how that must have looked having a mediocre son while their relatives had bred countless of smart and successful children.

Yahaba put little effort into his dress—stumbling down the stairs with a crooked tie and one strap of his backpack drooping down his shoulder. He grabbed a slice of buttered toast for breakfast before putting his shoes on and heading out the door.

The walk to school was longer and more arduous than he remembered it being.

Or maybe it was just the crushing weight on his shoulders.

Even the school appeared different, Yahaba thought absently as he walked through the gates. Aobajosai... was in mourning. He passed by several crying girls, all of whom had admired and loved Oikawa deeply. There wasn't a single smiling face—it was all grim expressions and clenched fists.

Overnight, a shrine had been put up in the hallway. Yahaba stared at Oikawa's grinning portrait, dumbfounded at the speed at which the school administration had worked to uphold their integrity. The shrine was surrounded by presents.

From his peripheral, he noticed a blonde girl appear beside him. He turned, noticing that her eyes were puffy and swollen, as if she had been crying all night. And, Yahaba realized with no small amount of horror, she probably had been. Because this wasn't just any girl. This was—

"Iwasaki Sayori-san," Yahaba blurted without thinking.

Sayori whipped around, her face lighting up for a second before falling. "Oh... I thought you were... I didn't realize..."

She thought I was Oikawa, he finished in his head. "I'm sorry."

Sayori and Oikawa had broken up before Yahaba's entry into Aobajosai, but he knew that his death must have been hard on her. She ducked her head, murmuring, "Excuse me." Yahaba watched her leave with sad eyes.

"Shigeru-kun?" a soft voice sounded behind him.

Yahaba turned slowly, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he saw Tsuji. She was without makeup today, and she had let down her hair. Fluffy earmuffs warmed her ears. "Hey, Runa."

Tsuji's eyebrows slanted upward in her melancholy. "I'm so sorry, Shigeru-kun. I..." She choked back a sob. "I can't imagine... How hard it is for you."

Yahaba nodded stiffly. "Thanks."

His friend looked around, biting her lip. "Kyoutani-kun... He's not with you?"

When they had all laid down together as first years on that hilltop that day, it had been a beginning for them. The start of an unexpected, begrudging friendship. A friendship where Yahaba was the glue connecting Kyoutani and Tsuji. But slowly, over time, Yahaba knew that Tsuji had begun to care for Kyoutani as a friend, too. "No," Yahaba answered, hoarsely. "I dunno where he is. I haven't seen him since," the words almost got stuck in his throat, "yesterday morning."

"He's not answering any of my calls," Tsuji informed him miserably. "What about you?"

"I called him once, but he didn't pick up."

"Maybe I should try again—"

"No," Yahaba stopped her from reaching into her jacket pocket; her arm felt frail under his hand, "Don't. He probably wants to be alone right now."

"Oh... right." Tsuji sighed. "I should've expected that. He looked up to Iwaizumi so much."

Huh? Iwaizumi? What's he got to do with this? Sure, Iwaizumi had been absent yesterday morning, but wasn't that just him taking time off to mourn his best friend? "Runa," Yahaba was nearly too afraid to ask, "What are you talking about?"

At his question, Tsuji looked absolutely mortified. "You... You mean you don't know?"

"Know?" His heart jumped to his throat. "Know what?"

Tsuji was on the verge of tears as she told him, "Iwaizumi was arrested last night. For murdering Oikawa."

Yahaba's world stopped. Iwaizumi... was arrested? For... killing Oikawa? His stomach lurched, and he felt ready to puke, his hand clasping over his mouth as his body trembled. "Oh god," he rasped. "No, Runa, please tell me that isn't true." No... No way! No way! There's no way Iwaizumi would kill Oikawa! Then a stone dropped into his stomach as he backpedaled. Or... would he? Them being his upperclassmen, Yahaba hadn't been awfully close to them—not close enough to know anything about their personal lives in any case. Truly—what did he know about Iwaizumi? About Oikawa? What if they had had some kind of falling out that turned violent?

"I'm sorry, Shigeru-kun... But it's true. It was on the news last night, and this morning, too." Tsuji glanced away, her eyes glossy with tears. "I'm sorry, Shigeru-kun! I'm so, so sorry."

This was it.

The world as he knew it was ending for good.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

"I'm sorry," Yahaba murmured, stepping away from Tsuji. "But... I need to go."

"Okay. Um, I'll see you in class, then!"

"Yeah, see you."

It was shaping up to be a cold, cold winter this year as Yahaba weaved his way through the crowd, exiting through a side entrance. From there, he stalked to one of the school gym—the one that his volleyball team always practiced in. He didn't know if anyone would be there, but there was simply nowhere else for him to go.

Yahaba slid the door open with great force, and a few pairs of eyes turned warily to him, taking in his disheveled appearance. They weren't looking much better. None of the third years or the coaches were here—just the first and second years.

Kentarou isn't here either, Yahaba noticed with a sinking heart.

"Yahaba!" Watari cried.

Weakly, Yahaba lifted a hand. "Hey."

They looked awful. Every single one of them looked awful.

Except Watari.

Watari seemed... almost normal. Yahaba didn't know how to feel about that. Yes, the libero had bags under his eyes from a sleepless night, but...

"What are you guys doing here?" Yahaba managed to ask.

"Same as you, probably," Kunimi replied blandly. "We don't know where else to go."

Kindaichi didn't say anything.

So this is our team now? Yahaba's throat bobbed. Their broken, shattered team. It made him want to beat his fist against the wall and scream at the injustice of it all. "Um... Where are the third years?"

"I saw Sawauchi-san and Shido-san," Watari voiced. "They were heading into the faculty room. I don't know what for. I don't think Yuda-san, Hanamaki-san, and Matsukawa-san are here today, though..."

"What about Iwaizumi-san?" Kindaichi spoke for the first time, eyes round.

Ah. Yahaba squeezed the strap of his backpack. He doesn't know? He scanned the room. Do any of them know? "I... No, Iwaizumi's not here."

"Where is he, then?"

Yahaba was saved from answering when the coaches and the third years finally arrived. Hanamaki was glaring at the floor with red-rimmed eyes, while Matsukawa wore a mask of faux indifference. Yuda, Sawauchi, and Shido were standing further apart from each other than usual—they were normally like three peas in a pod.

"Listen up, everyone," Irihata said tiredly, looking older than Yahaba remembered him being. "I don't know if all of you have heard, but..." He sighed heavily. "Iwaizumi was arrested last night. As a suspect for Oikawa's... murder."

"WHAT?!" The color seeped out of Kindaichi's cheeks. Desperately, he peered at Yahaba. "You knew about this?"

"I found out this morning," Yahaba replied tersely.

"Quiet." There was no force behind Irihata's words, but they shut up anyway. "I know it's a difficult time right now, but... The police are going to be coming today to ask us some questions. I ask you to answer each and every one of them honestly."

"That's bullshit!" Hanamaki snarled with surprisingly fierce conviction. "They already have the guy, don't they?!"

"What?" Kindaichi sputtered. "How could you say that, Hanamaki-san?!"

"What?! We all know it's the truth, don't we?! Iwaizumi killed him."

"You don't mean that!" Yuda jumped in, fat tears spilling from his eyes as he turned to Hanamaki, a wounded expression on his mien. "Iwaizumi didn't! There's no way he could have!"

"And how the fuck do you know?!" Hanamaki spat.

He's just upset, Yahaba tried telling himself, though he was starting to slip. He doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it... Iwaizumi didn't kill Oikawa. He didn't. He didn't kill Oikawa. He didn't kill me. He blinked. Oikawa. He didn't kill Oikawa. What am I thinking...?

"Makki!" Mizoguchi said sharply. "That's enough."

"Enough?" Hanamaki echoed in disbelief. "How will it ever be enough?!"

"Whether Iwaizumi did or didn't kill him," Mizoguchi's nostrils flared, "Is not up to us."

There was so much anger. So much sadness. It made Yahaba's head want to implode. So much negativity and simmering emotions in one room—it was suffocating him. They did quiet down, though. The boys sat down in front of the coaches, and Irihata went through with them about the procedures they would need to undertake today. Apparently, they could be pulled from class at any time of day, so they needed to be prepared.

"Has anyone seen Kyoutani?" Irihata asked at the end of his explanation. There was no affirmation from anyone. "Watari," he called on the bald libero next, "You're in Kyoutani's class, right?"

"Yeah. Do you want me to pass on the message? Although," Watari hesitated, "I'm not sure if he's even at school today."

"If he isn't, then there's nothing we can do about it. The police will just question him at home."

And that was that.

November 20th, 2012

Kyoutani did not make an appearance until Tuesday morning. He said nothing as he walked inside the gym, where the nets were halfheartedly set up and the team were doing serves and receives. Yahaba fumbled the ball when he appeared, throwing his bag aside and arching his back in a stretch. Kentarou...

Kindaichi and Kunimi seemed to be especially cautious around the temperamental blond, the former taking special care not to get in his way. Which included putting a Kunimi-sized space between himself and Kyoutani when they were lined up for spiking practice.

It was all they could do—practice. Try to get back into a normal routine, even when nothing was normal at the moment. It wasn't just within the team, either—Yahaba had seen first hand what kind of cards Oikawa's death had dealt for the rest of the school. Aobajosai had received nationwide coverage—and with that coverage came extensive criticism and calls to shut down the school. Yahaba didn't understand why—it wasn't the school's fault, but angry parents from all over the country were demanding compensation from the wrong party anyway.

As for the students...

There was a muted sorrow that permeated the student body. What was once a place of joyful laughter had transformed into something bleaker. Oikawa had been popular—almost too popular for his own good, in Yahaba's opinion. His fans were arguably the most upset after the team, and Oikawa had had many, many fans.

Some of his ex-girlfriends were mobbed for commentary by particularly callous students, too, which was the cherry on top of the whole debacle. Yahaba recalled seeing Iwasaki Sayori burst into tears when some girls persisted in their probing, and Makoshima Naoko had almost punched the basketball club's captain in the nose when he pestered her for the umpteenth time. Nobody dared approach Izumi Chiyoko, however, the surly vice-president of the martial arts club.

But, if Yahaba had to decide what the worst part of his aftermath was, it had to be—

"I'm sick of this!" Yuda shouted at Sawauchi. "Why do you have to bring it up everywhere we go?!"

"Because you're always trying to defend him!" Sawauchi yelled back, Shido nodding. "Yuda, didn't you read the news? They found the murder weapon with his fingerprints all over it!"

"It's circular reporting! Why can't we wait until after the trial to condemn him?!"

"No, no," Hanamaki cut in cruelly, "You're right, Sawauchi."

"Nobody's right," Kunimi tried to appease them, sounding as tired as he looked. He seemed to be favoring one of his arms over the other, too. Yahaba thought he must have gotten a shoulder injury recently. "We won't know until Iwaizumi goes on trial."

The divisions in the team. The ball felt heavy in Yahaba's hands. Stop fighting... Guys, stop fighting.

They would always wait until the coaches were gone to argue. Currently, Mizoguchi and Irihata were at a staff meeting, discussing the future steps of Aobajosai.

"Shut the fuck up, all of you."

Everyone turned to Kyoutani, whose head was bowed. When he gazed up, Yahaba did not see his usual ferocity in his eyes.

Yahaba swallowed a lump in his throat. "Kentarou—"

"No," Hanamaki snarled. "I'm sick of everyone turning a blind eye to the truth. Why don't we lay out the facts?! Oikawa," his voice broke, "is dead. He's fucking dead, and Iwaizumi killed him. So why are you all trying to defend him?! You don't care about what happened to Oikawa?!"

Matsukawa placed a hand on his shoulder. "Makki, wait..."

"Of course we care!" Yuda screamed. "Don't ever accuse us of not caring!"

Hanamaki sneered. "Then why are you all so eager to defend him?!"

"You're just looking for someone to blame!" claimed Kunimi, staring pointedly at Hanamaki.

"I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!" bellowed Kyoutani, kicking a stray ball against the wall. It flew through the air and ricocheted off the building to the other side of the gym. "Who did this and who did that... Who gives a fuck?! Stop arguing because it's fucking useless!"

At once, Hanamaki rounded on him. "I thought you'd be all about arguing, Kyoutani, since that's all you're good for!"

"What was that?!"

"Guys," Kindaichi whispered, shaking. "Guys, please don't."

Nobody except Yahaba heard Kindaichi's quiet plea.

"Do you somehow think you're above all this?" continued Hanamaki, stalking up to Kyoutani. "Do you think you're fucking cool or something?!"

"Nobody ever said that!" cried Yahaba, moving to stand in front of Kyoutani. "Senpai, please! I-I know you're upset, but—" He didn't get to finish before Kyoutani pushed him aside roughly, not even giving him a second glance.

"You tryin' to fight?" Kyoutani growled.

Yahaba blinked just as someone threw the first punch—he didn't see who, it went too fast. But then Kyoutani and Hanamaki were wrestling, trying to shove each other to the ground. Immediately, Matsukawa grabbed Hanamaki and pulled him back, but Hanamaki wrenched himself out of his grip and launched himself at Kyoutani, shouting something unintelligible.

"You bastard!" Kyoutani howled after Hanamaki socked him in the face, swiftly returning the punch.

He couldn't stand it any longer. "STOP!" Yahaba tackled Kyoutani to the ground just as Yuda and Matsukawa got a grip on Hanamaki. Yahaba almost choked on his saliva when Kyoutani jabbed his elbow into his stomach, but didn't let go. "KENTAROU, STOP!" Kyoutani continued to thrash against him, and Yahaba felt the first tears sliding down his cheeks. "PLEASE STOP!"

"YAHABA, LET GO!"

"NO! NO, I WON'T!"

"What is going on here?!" Irihata's voice rang out.

The coaches are here.

Irihata went over to help Matsukawa and Yuda calm Hanamaki down, while Mizoguchi knelt next to where Yahaba was curled on the floor, holding Kyoutani against him as if he feared a great wind would blow him away.

What happened next was a bit of a blur. Yahaba just sat on the court, dumbly, as the coaches did their best to deescalate the situation. At some point, Hanamaki had started uncontrollably sobbing, and he wasn't the only one. Yuda, too, was hiding his face, standing far away from his former friends, Sawauchi and Shido. Kyoutani had put himself at a distance, too, speaking with Mizoguchi in low— but agitated—murmurs.

"It's over."

Yahaba's head snapped up to see Kunimi standing over him. "What do you mean?"

Kunimi jabbed his thumb toward where Hanamaki and Matsukawa were exiting the gym. "They're quitting. For good."

His gut clenched and the earth fell from under him. "W-what?" Hastily, he got to his feet. "You can't be serious. I... What about nationals?"

"What about nationals?" Kunimi retorted. "It was over the moment Oikawa died."

How can you say such a thing? Just as he thought he was done crying for the day, fresh tears welled up in his eyes, and he reached up to wipe them away. "You've always been kinda cold, but this is a new low. That was cruel, Kunimi."

Kunimi turned away. "Sorry."

"They're leaving?" Yahaba heard Kyoutani grind out. "Good for them."

Yahaba remembered. Remembered that Kyoutani had been absent from practices and tournaments for most of this year (and the year before) because of their previous third years. A part of him had suspected that Kyoutani would leave once more, but it seemed he was wrong. At least there's one good thing in all of this.

By the time afternoon practice rolled around, their team had shrunk considerably. Not only had they lost Oikawa, but they'd lost Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa, too. All of them key members of most—if not all—of their offensive and defensive formations. Irihata sighed as he held court over them. "I never thought I'd be saying this, but are you sure you boys want to practice today? It'd be better if you take some time off."

"I agree," Mizoguchi affirmed, crossing his arms. "I don't think we should keep going right now, even if nationals are just around the corner."

"It's the only thing we have right now," Kunimi said bluntly. "I don't know about the others, but... I just want things to be back to normal as soon as possible."

There was a halfhearted murmur of agreement.

Another sigh from Irihata. "Alright, then. We only have one thing on the agenda, however." His brow lowered. "We need... to choose new captains."

Oh.

Oh.

Yahaba swallowed thickly. It was unlikely that any of the remaining third years would be chosen for captaincy, which meant...

"Yahaba."

He could feel everyone's eyes boring into him. Yahaba glanced up at the coach. "Yes, coach?"

"If you're ready, I'd like you to lead the team."

I'm not. I'm not ready. "I'm ready." Is everyone else ready?

"Well, that's good, then. I'll let you choose your own vice-captain—tell me who you pick before you leave."

"Yes, coach."

They practiced. Nobody was particularly into it, and barely anyone talked. The only one who did was Watari, who was obviously trying his best to keep the team morale up. It was a vain effort, Yahaba thought. He could not recall Watari ever putting his own two-cents into the 'who did it' debate for whatever reason. What is he trying to do?

"Don't mind!" Watari called when Kindaichi hit a serve into the net, the first year practically wilting at his failure.

It's like... He's trying to pretend nothing bad happened. Yahaba wiped sweat off his brow before picking up the ball, which had come rolling toward him under the net. His heart ached. Watari...

Before they knew it, the sun had set, and it was dark outside. Slowly, they packed up the nets and returned the balls to the baskets. Like they had practiced, they worked without a word.

When they were almost done, Yahaba approached Watari from behind. "Ah, Watari..." Will you be my vice-captain? It hadn't been a difficult choice at all—Watari was calm, supportive, and friendly. Quite the opposite of Kyoutani, actually.

"Oh, sorry," Watari said without turning around, and Yahaba thought that his shoulders were trembling. "Can... Can you give me a moment? I left something at the club room."

"Oh, um, okay." Left something at the club room? Yahaba narrowed his eyes after Watari's retreating figure. What's really going on? Making his mind up, he followed Watari, a silent ghost in the night. He could not deny it—out of all of their reactions, Watari's was the strangest. And Yahaba couldn't figure out why.

Watari had left the door to the club room slightly ajar. Not wanting to be seen, Yahaba peeked inside carefully. Under the dim light, Watari was buttoning up his school uniform, his jersey and elbow pads laid out on the bench in front of him. His lips pursed, Watari slipped on his sweater vest and then picked up his jersey, ignoring how his elbow pads fell onto the floor.

"Urgh...!" Watari's face crumbled, and he pressed it into his jersey, his knees hitting the ground. Yahaba could only watch in stunned silence as he intruded on his friend's private moment, as Watari broke down and blubbered loudly into his shirt as if he had been holding it in all day. Watari, who always kept up a smile no matter what, because he knew his teammates relied on him.

Feeling sick to the stomach, Yahaba went away.

Unbeknownst to everyone, Watari had been holding onto his own terrible burden. If Yahaba asked him to be vice-captain...

There's no way...

The cold bit into his skin as he walked back to the gym.

That I can ask him to do such a thing for me.

So, now what?

Yahaba stopped for a moment, peering up at the night sky. The stars were out tonight.

Maybe Oikawa would've known.

November — December, 2012

The days following were not easy. Yahaba hadn't expected them to be, but he hadn't expected them to be this hard either. Every little thing set off Kyoutani, and Sawauchi and Shido eventually stopped coming to practice.

"What do you mean you're leaving?" Yahaba had said, flabbergasted.

Sawauchi and Shido exchanged a guilty look.

"I'm sorry," Shido apologized. "But... We don't want to be here anymore. This just isn't... our team."

"But you're my vice-captain!"

"Again, I'm sorry." They made toward the exit. "Good luck, you guys."

Yahaba stared after them in dismay before whirling around to the rest of his team. Kindaichi wasn't meeting his gaze, and Kunimi was sitting on the bench, typing something on his phone. Kyoutani was serving against the wall by himself, and Watari just seemed plain lost. Quickly, he did a head count. One, two, three, four... Including him, there were six members left. Just enough to compete in tournaments.

Even his goddamn middle school had had more than six people on the boy's team.

The team Yahaba was captaining couldn't even be called one.

"Cowards," Yuda suddenly piped up, glaring daggers at the door. Yahaba had never seen such an ugly expression on Yuda's kind visage before. "You don't know it, Yahaba, but the reason they don't want to be here is because we all think that Iwaizumi's innocent."

Yahaba vaguely remembered Sawauchi and Shido being on Hanamaki's side. "Right," he exhaled sharply. "Of-fucking-course." This team is a laughing stock. Frustration burned his insides, and he went to the staff room at lunch time to find Irihata.

"Coach." Yahaba stood at his desk, hands folded behind his back. "I would like to withdraw Seijoh from the Spring Tournament."

Irihata didn't look surprised. "I see," he answered, neutral. "I won't lie—this isn't unexpected. But are you sure about this?"

"I'm sure," Yahaba told him firmly. "Let Shiratorizawa compete again. I don't care anymore." Our dream of nationals died with Oikawa.

"Very well."

Yahaba slid the door shut before he left, startling when he found himself face-to-face with Tsuji, who was sipping a juice box. She appeared equally surprised to see him, but found her voice first. "Shigeru-kun."

"Runa."

Together, they strolled languidly down the hall, not really speaking. Yahaba was too exhausted to do so, and Tsuji didn't know what she could say.

"Kyoutani-kun's ignoring all my calls," Tsuji revealed at one point, staring forward with clouded eyes. "And my texts, too."

"Yeah. Same with mine. Actually, I stopped trying to call him a long time ago. We don't really talk anymore, even at practice."

"Oh. That's too bad."

"Mm."

They parted ways before fifth period started. Yahaba zoned out through math and English, only starting to pay attention to the world again when he went down to the gym in his sports uniform. The first thing that greeted him was Kyoutani's angry face.

"You!" Rage burned in his tone. "What the fuck, Yahaba?!"

"What the hell?" Yahaba scowled. "What're you so mad about this time? You barely talk to me, and now you—"

"Shut up and listen," Kyoutani snapped, grabbing Yahaba by the shirt collar. "Why the hell did you give up our spot at nationals?!"

"Don't touch me!" Yahaba shoved him away, baring his teeth. "And so what if I did?! What—did you actually think we could even get past the first round with this team?! This isn't a team, Kentarou, and it hasn't been for a long time!"

"Do I look like I give a shit?!" Kyoutani roared. "We worked too damn hard for this! And now you're just giving it away?! Don't you remember our dream?!"

"That wasn't our dream! It was Oikawa's! Just like this team! Everything was Oikawa's, not mine!"

Yahaba didn't see the blow coming. Kyoutani's fist sent him flying to the ground, and he heard Kindaichi gasp in horror. "Get over yourself!" Kyoutani demanded. "You're... You're so fucking egotistical!"

"That's real fucking funny, coming from you! I'm not the one who knocks over teammates just to spike the ball outside the damn court!"

"Guys, that's enough!" Watari rushed over. "No more fighting. Please. Haven't we fought enough?"

Kyoutani curled his lip. "You expect me not to fight when my captain's a damn coward? Well, fine." Kyoutani looked around. "Since we're not going to nationals... I don't see the point of being here anymore. You win, Yahaba."

Wait, what? Kentarou... "You're leaving?" Yahaba stared. "Just like that?" Kentarou never lets anyone win. It was unnatural.

"Duh. Don't make me repeat myself." Kyoutani picked up his bag and left without any farewell.

Five people, Yahaba thought numbly as Watari helped him up. Huh. "Ha... Hahahaha! Fuck, I hate this... I HATE THIS SO DAMN MUCH! FUCK!" I can't do this anymore... I can't do this anymore! "Hah... Sorry, everyone." Yahaba grinned, a single tear falling from the corner of his eye. "But Ken—Kyoutani was right.

"Your captain's a coward."

He resigned the next day.

December 12th, 2013

To his surprise, Aobajosai's volleyball team hadn't collapsed. When the new school year had begun, the team saw some more members coming their way—enough to compete in tournaments. Yahaba was happy for them, he supposed. Occasionally, he checked on them, but it wasn't often enough. After his falling out with Kyoutani, he had tried calling him one last time, but Kyoutani hadn't picked up.

So Yahaba moved on.

He wasn't the only one that Kyoutani had cut off, anyway—Tsuji had received similar treatment from the blond.

Even when they passed by each other in the hallways, they acted like strangers.

"The mock exam was so hard!" Tsuji bemoaned as they filed out of class and into the hallway together. "How was it for you, Shigeru-kun?"

"Math isn't my strong point either," Yahaba told her with a sheepish smile. "What was that last question even?"

"Right? Ugh, I'm so totally gonna fail the entrance exams..."

Something bumped into Yahaba's shoulder, and he looked down to see a black-haired girl. "Oh, sorry."

Makoshima Naoko raised a brow at him. "It's fine."

Then she was gone.

"Creepy," Tsuji remarked. "Not a lot people survive an encounter with Makoshima."

"Eh?" Yahaba blinked. "Is she some kind of monster?"

"Remember those delinquents that used to bother us in our first year? They hung out behind the school building, by the incinerator."

"Oh, yep. What about 'em?"

"By the second half of our second year, all of them were either complete reformed or had dropped out of school. And it was because of her."

Yahaba let out a low whistle. "Damn."

"Mm... But never mind her!" Tsuji took him by the hand. "Let's go get taiyaki!"

Their school days were coming to a close.

March 18th, 2014

Graduation was... nice. There wasn't really any other way for Yahaba to put it. He graduated as one of the top students in his year, alongside Tsuji (but not Kyoutani). It was a bit of a forgettable affair, if he were being honest.

"Well, we did it," Tsuji said once they were outside, carrying their diplomas with them. She gave him a strange look. "Shigeru-kun... You look different today."

"Hmm?" Yahaba cast her a charming grin. "Oh, I do~?"

"... Like him..."

"Huh?"

"You look like Oikawa!" Tsuji exclaimed, frowning. "Why? Why, Shigeru-kun?"

Because Oikawa's always been better than who I really am. Nobody liked Yahaba Shigeru. Everybody liked Oikawa Tooru. "Runa, you don't understand—"

"Damn right, I don't!" Tsuji smacked him in the shoulder with her diploma tube. "Shigeru-kun, you don't need to be Oikawa. You just need to be Yahaba Shigeru. Oikawa wasn't the boy I liked... The boy I like is you, Shigeru-kun!"

Runa... likes me? It was like a dream. The same princess figure that all of Akiyama had worshiped had confessed to him—not Oikawa Tooru, but plain old Yahaba Shigeru. But when he looked at her... His heart didn't race. His cheeks didn't flush, and his words didn't stutter. "Sorry," the words felt wooden on his lips. "But... I can't accept your feelings."

Tsuji smiled sadly. "I-I see. D-don't worry, Shigeru-kun. To be honest, I kind of expected that. But! Stop trying to be someone else. Because Yahaba Shigeru... is an amazing, interesting person who I really care about."

Yahaba swallowed. "Thank you."

Yahaba Shigeru. Yahaba Shigeru.

That's who I am.

... Right?

January 2nd, 2015

It was astounding, really, how quickly friendships could end. How quickly people drifted apart from one another. Yahaba exhaled as he shuffled down the street in his winter coat, a white cloud forming in the frosty air from his warm breath before dissipating. His first year in university was coming to a close, and he debating with himself if it was worth moving down to Tokyo so he wouldn't have to commute every day.

Tsuji had gone to Tohoku.

It was only natural that she had made her own friends there.

Sometimes, they still talked, but it was very rare.

Eventually, Yahaba expected, they would stop communicating altogether.

That's fine.

Yahaba Shigeru isn't the kind of person who can keep friendships, anyway.

His phone rang. It was a number he hadn't laid eyes on in ages—Kindaichi's.

He picked up. "Hello? Kindaichi? That you?"

"Yahaba! Thank god your number's still the same... I know it's been a while, but... Kunimi and I got into Todai." Yahaba's eyes widened. "And we were wondering... Do you wanna maybe rent out a dorm together? The school will assign us a fourth person, but that doesn't matter. It's pretty cost effective, too."

Yahaba grinned. "I'm listening."

April 1st, 2018

His hands trembling, Kindaichi read the note aloud.

"I will hide

"I will run

"I am the one

"Who killed

"Oikawa-san

"Don't look at me with horror

"I see it in your gaze

"They are like knives

"That rip my soul apart

"Please

"Please

"Don't let me drown

"Sanzu River that reflects in your eyes

"Like afternoon sun."

Kindaichi let out a shuddering breath. "This was written by Oikawa's killer. And his handwriting is nothing like Iwaizumi's."

Yahaba stared blankly at the note.

Oikawa Tooru.

Oikawa Tooru.

Oikawa Tooru is dead.

Oikawa Tooru.

Oikawa Tooru—

I'm here, Yahaba returned the call as his mind fractured once and for all, no more Tsuji or Kyoutani here to repair the cracks. I'm here.

I'm here now.

Everything's okay.

May 5th, 2018

Birds burst forth from the trees, nothing but flurried shadows under the black sky.

"So why the hell," Yahaba snarled at Kunimi, who was clutching his arm, "Are you getting in my way?"

A/N: Almost 6k words written in one day. Huh. I think I set myself a new record, HAHAHA

Also, I give myself feelings keeping in mind what Kageyama is also going through right now. The ways their lives all kind of intersect and happen at the same time really gives me the shivers and I don't normally get so affected by my own writing lol.

Like, just think about it...

Everyone's going through their own issues at the same time and they don't know it. Like... LIFE! WHOA!