August 14th, 2021

"Kageyama's dead."

Oikawa could feel the crust on his eyes as he awoke. Shit. He'd forgotten to take off his contacts last night. He fumbled for the eye drops he kept on his nightstand before squeezing a drop into each eye. Much better.

But he still felt like he'd been run over by a truck.

After removing his contacts and freshening up, he stuck his glasses on his face and headed downstairs for an aspirin. His mother's medicinal cabinet was usually packed full of medicines.

There was a note waiting on the fridge for him.

Tooru,

We've gone out for Saturday brunch with Hajime's parents.

Love you,

Mom and dad :)

Sighing, Oikawa left it there and poured himself a sugary cereal—the kind that he would never be able to get away with eating in the Argentinian team. There was no milk left in the fridge so he ate it dry.

"Kageyama's dead."

Fuck, his head hurt. Why hadn't that aspirin kicked in yet?

He checked his phone while he ate. Dozens of messages from friends, family, and even stalker fans. His sister was insisting Oikawa meet up with her and her husband for lunch sometime, Matsukawa and Hanamaki were wondering if he had made it home okay, Yahaba had drunk-texted him a picture of himself, Kyoutani, and their shared girlfriend, Iwaizumi was—

Oikawa stopped scrolling at the unopened chats, tapping on Iwaizumi's icon.

[Iwa-chan]: Are you okay?

[Iwa-chan]: last night was kind of a shock, huh?

It really had been.

Oikawa could deny it no longer. Kageyama's death—it troubled him. Immensely. Kindaichi had shown them the news article, had told them of how it had been Shiroma Yubin of all people—a nigh utter stranger—who broke the news. The four of them—he, Iwaizumi, Kindaichi and Kunimi—had been thriving and celebrating while Kageyama was—

He felt sick.

Kageyama was dead.

Suicide.

Suicide.

It rocked his world. Kageyama, the tyrant king, had committed suicide? Ridiculous. Oikawa drooped his spoon in his half-eaten bowl of cereal. He clutched at his hair. How could this have happened? Why?

Why?

Oikawa gulped.

You know why, don't you?

[Oikawa]: Can we meet up?

[Iwa-chan]: Yeah, I'm free. I'll come over.

Soon, Iwaizumi was sitting opposite him at the dining table. Their houses were close to each other, with only a single house separating them. Iwaizumi stared him down as he ate. "You look like shit."

"Gee, thanks, Iwa-chan."

"Happy to help." Iwaizumi sagged against the table, his hoodie crumpling with the motion. Oikawa could see dark circles ringing his eyes. He hadn't slept well last night, if at all. Oikawa himself had more passed out in his bed than fallen asleep thanks to the alcohol. "What are you thinking about?"

Softly, Oikawa sighed. His spoon clanged against his bowl. "You know what."

"Right." Iwaizumi tongued the inside of his cheek. "I still can't believe it myself. Kageyama... he was a strong kid." He had died in 2018. It was 2021 now. Kageyama had been dead for three years and none of them had known.

Still.

2018.

Maybe it had nothing to do with what had happened in middle school at all. Oikawa's heart twisted. So why, he cursed at himself, are you still feeling so damn guilty? It wasn't like Oikawa could've controlled it. "I want to see him."

Iwaizumi lifted his head. "What?"

"He had to have had a funeral, right? I want to see him." His gravestone. His picture. Whatever. "Iwa-chan..."

"Don't. You don't need to explain anything."

"I'll hit up Mattsun."

It was amazing, really, how Oikawa could change his demeanor so easily. His gloom-and-doom disposition transformed into unrecognizable pleasantness as he spoke on the phone with their old friend, asking him if Kageyama Tobio had ever passed through as a corpse. He could feel Iwaizumi's somber gaze boring into his soul, but Oikawa didn't care.

Oikawa hung up after a few minutes of conversation. "There was. Nobody attended his funeral except for one person. His sister. He has a headstone at Sendai Memorial Park."

"What?" Iwaizumi's eyes were wide with shock. "What about his parents?"

I didn't even know he had a sister. Oikawa dropped his gaze. "I don't know."

Iwaizumi swore.

Eyes faraway, Oikawa got up and washed out his bowl and spoon. He placed it on the drying rack, turning to Iwaizumi. "You up for a road trip?"

It would hardly be one. The memorial park was only barely an hour drive away from their place. Iwaizumi agreed, disquieted, and the two of them trudged to Oikawa's house where his sleek car was parked. Oikawa was awfully proud of his car. It was an expensive model, one he had spent years saving up for before signing onto the Argentinian team. Right now, though, he wouldn't have cared if it was a pile of scrap metal. All he needed was something that could take him to the place he needed to be.

"Should we call Kunimi and Kindaichi, too?" Iwaizumi asked as they pulled out of the driveway.

At first, Oikawa wanted to lash out—wanted to blame his two juniors for breaking the bad news to him. But he knew it wasn't their fault—far from it. He held his tongue. "Yeah. I can pick them up on the way."

Based on what he could hear Iwaizumi say into the phone, it seemed like they agreed to tag along. So Oikawa swung by their houses. Like with he and Iwaizumi, Kunimi and Kindaichi had been best friends since childhood with their homes only a few houses apart.

There was a blonde lady gardening nearby Kindaichi's home.

Kindaichi bowed his head politely to her as he emerged. "Morning, Iwasaki-san."

"Good morning, Kindaichi-san." Iwasaki beamed. "Have fun wherever you're going."

"Ah, thank you."

Somehow, it pained Oikawa to witness their insignificant, mundane interaction. It reminded him—reminded him that the world was still turning without Kageyama. And Oikawa himself had been chasing after glory and fame in the volleyball world while only a single relative wept for Kageyama's death.

"Are you good?" Iwaizumi asked him. "You look angry."

"I'm just peachy, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi looked dubious but didn't push it.

Kindaichi said a quiet hello to them before they drove up to the street to Kunimi's house. Kunimi was waiting for them outside, and got in without any fanfare or interruptions from the neighbors.

"Hey," he said, and halfhearted greetings echoed around the car once more.

Oikawa drove on.

The world around them was full of life. People going about their daily routines—daily routines that were equally vivid and special as Kageyama's had been. But Kageyama's time had ended on this world three years ago. Never again would he be able to experience the blessings life had given him.

Blessings.

For Kageyama.

Oikawa's stomach coiled.

And he remembered.

Remembered the nasty way he had treated Kageyama in the past. How childish, his middle school self had been, lacking consideration for others and enough self-awareness to realize how his actions had impacted others.

All of a sudden, Oikawa wanted to cry.

But he swallowed down his tears. He didn't deserve to cry—not for Kageyama. Not when he only cared when he was already dead. Again, he tried telling himself that this had been little more than a squabble between children, but to no avail.

A squabble it may have been, but it also seemed like so much more than that.

Everything he had ever said and done to Kageyama—

It'd all led to this outcome.

He peered into the rearview mirror. Kunimi was asleep while Kindaichi was gazing out the window in a trance.

Oikawa drove on.


Oikawa parked his atrociously expensive car in the parking lot. Kindaichi had the job of waking a grouchy Kunimi up while Iwaizumi and Oikawa both stretched their limbs, inhaling in all the fresh air. The memorial park was out of the way from the city—the air was noticeably crisper.

It would be autumn soon.

He could already feel it getting cooler.

When he passed on, he would like his ashes buried here, too.

An odd sense of nostalgia tugged at him.

Wind blew through the park as they entered, sending the long hem of their coats rippling like a flag. Oikawa put on a scarf. Together, they walked through the memorial park, searching for those who had died in 2018. Leaves crunched underfoot.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, they found him.

Kageyama Tobio

1996–2018

There was no epitaph.

The whole thing seemed so clinically impersonal.

Though he had known Kageyama back in middle school, Oikawa felt like a stranger. He could tell the others were feeling the same based on their body language. The way their shoulders hunched, the way their facial muscles tightened...

They were aliens.

Aliens to this boy who had hated life itself enough to end it all.

Oikawa wanted to know. He wanted so badly to know what had pushed Kageyama over the edge like this, years after the last time they had seen one another.

"Maybe we should've brought flowers," said Kindaichi, breaking the silence.

But here they stood, the result of an impromptu trip.

None of them cried.

What's the point of just standing here? Oikawa wondered, bitterly. It's not like everything would suddenly fix itself. Life wasn't a comic book or a movie. Kageyama was dead—gone forever. There was no pulling him back from the grave. No emotional climax where the power of friendship would prevail.

Reality slapped them across the face.

"Huh? Who are you guys?"

All four of them whipped around to find a vaguely familiar face staring at them with bewildered eyes. He had tan skin, as if he had spent years frolicking under the sun, and Oikawa could see how toned and buff his body was even from underneath his hoodie. A hoodie with the signature MSBY Jackals claw marks across it—

"Holy shit!" Oikawa blurted. "Shorty from Karasuno?"

The man spluttered. "My name is Hinata!"

Hinata Shouyou! He'd been a nobody in first year, but had become a beast in his own right after taking Karasuno to nationals in his third year. He had signed with the MSBY Jackals a few years after graduation. A few of his former teammates had become Olympic players, but Hinata hadn't been chosen.

"Hinata from the first division," muttered Kindaichi, sizing him up. "What are you doing here...?"

"I asked you guys first." Hinata frowned. "What are you doing at Kageyama's grave?"

Oikawa was a people person. He could immediately pick up on the undertone of hostility in Hinata's voice. He was... protective? Of Kageyama? But why? How did they even know each other?

"We used to be his classmates," Kunimi said, simplifying the explanation immensely.

"Oh. Is that so?" Hinata didn't ease up on his growing dislike of them. "Were you guys friends?"

An awkward silence stretched as none of them answered.

"Well," Kindaichi said eventually, pausing. "We were teammates."

"All of you?"

"Yeah, we—"

Hinata's gaze darkened. "Leave."

Iwaizumi blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Leave. Right now."

"You have no right to tell us—"

"You have no right to even be here!" shouted Hinata, scaring the wits out of Oikawa. "How dare you guys come here?!"

Iwaizumi opened his mouth to argue, but thought the better of it. The utter condemnation in his voice had cowed them. The way Hinata spoke—it was like he was blaming them. Their collective indignation fizzled away as Hinata shoved past them and positioned himself like a starfish in front of Kageyama's grave. He glared at them defiantly, just daring them to take a step closer to Kageyama's headstone.

Oikawa turned away. "Come on. Let's go, guys."

"Are you kidding me?" Kunimi ground out. "We came all this way. It hasn't even been ten minutes."

"We're obviously not welcome here." Oikawa's jaw clenched as he glanced backward. "Shorty... No, Hinata. We'll be back. You can't chase us away forever." He was sort of aware that he sounded like a villain, but he didn't care.

"I can sure as hell try." Hinata bared his teeth at them like an animal defending its territory. "After what you jerks did to him, you don't deserve to even step foot here!"

What we did to him? Oikawa was growing increasingly unsettled.

Without replying, he stalked off, Iwaizumi, Kindaichi, and Kunimi reluctantly following him.

"Ah, fuck." Oikawa palmed his face when they got to the car, his slender fingers snaking under his glasses. "That fucking orange bastard..." What have we done?

None of them said a word on the drive home.


Hinata popped open a bottle of sake, pouring one into his saucer and one into the saucer at the foot of Kageyama's headstone. By its side, Hinata had placed a plate of hot pork curry with a soft-boiled egg on top. Golden yolk oozed out of the white casing.

Incense sticks were burning by the side of the headstone.

Hm, thought Hinata. It would need a good scrubbing, soon.

Hinata clinked his saucer of sake against Kageyama's before pouring it down. It burned his throat. Hinata didn't drink often. "Ah!" he exclaimed, grinning. "It feels like drinking liquid fire. Right?"

He missed talking to him sometimes. Kageyama had never been much of a talker, but Hinata had always liked making conversation with him.

"I have to go now." Hinata stood, brushing grass off the back of his pants. "I'll be back soon. Take care, Kageyama."

Picking up his bag, Hinata whistled a tune and went on his way.