It wasn't often that Tobio loses focus. His path was a narrow one, something he chose for himself the moment he stepped on to court. Everything he was, everything he did, centered on volleyball.

He never let himself dwell. He faced forward, improved every day and focused.

But Tobio was coming to realise that life didn't need to be so narrow. Crows flew in murders, teams supported each other, and Karasuno was family. Volleyball was his focus, but it didn't mean the volleyball didn't consist of so many other things.

It was slow going, learning to let Karasuno in. Learning to toss. Trusting his teammates to spike.

It was slow going and sometimes – he lost focus.

Tobio's eyes lingered on the post on Instagram, something heavy sinking into his stomach.

Get together at Kitagawa Daiichi. Glad everyone could make it!

It's a new feeling, the feeling of losing focus. The feeling of lingering too long on something else, something that never would have mattered to a younger, tyrannical king. It's a new feeling, the feeling of slow dread, swirling at the back of his mind, as he stared at the picture of his old volleyball team.

Glad everyone could make it!

Tobio hadn't been invited.

A part of him knew he deserved it.

The screen of his phone went dim after being inactive for so long. He didn't turn it back on. Instead, he curled up in bed, staring at the volleyball he has been practicing with, and tried to focus.

The night dragged on, and Tobio tried not to dwell on Kindaichi's face – smiling, without the pressure put on him by a tyrant.

The expanse of the court could never be filled by one person. Tobio had always known that. To not have someone at your back in a place so large was harrowing. It was not something Tobio would wish on anyone, even his greatest enemy.

When the court was empty, when it was just you, you could hear it. You could hear the silence that rung, the echo of the ball hitting hardwood, you could hear the world shattering.

Tobio knew exactly how it sounded, the subtle difference between the ball hitting a full court, and the ball hitting an empty one. One sounded like hope or despair, depending on the side of the court, which was gut wrenching in its own right, but something recoverable. Something you had to recover from, for the game to go on.

The other – the other sounded hollow.

And that sound left a pit in your stomach, just as hollow and empty, just as terrifying as being left alone on a court, with no one watching your back.

And the worst part? Tobio couldn't make it go away.

It was raining, the next morning. Tobio refused to open his Instagram as he was waiting for the bus. Studies showed it made people's attention span shorter, after all.

(Vaguely, he wondered if that dumbass used social media a lot.)

The bus stopped just short of school, and Tobio had to run the rest of the way, if he wanted to beat Hinata to the club. He was ready to do it too, ready to leap out of the bus and get started, because he was winning 43-42 and he couldn't let that streak go.

But his legs felt like jelly that morning, a pool of dread still in his stomach. His mind kept leaping back to the post, to the court, to a time that he should have gotten over by now.

Maybe it wasn't that. Maybe Tobio was just feeling sick.

Yeah. That was it.

He could – he could let go of one point.

For the first time in a long time, Tobio set out walking. The bus driver gave him a raised eyebrow, to which Tobio shrugged.

It was just an off day.

He dragged his feet to school, scowling down at the mud caking his shoes. Something about his own reflection irked him.

He wondered what Kindaichi had seen, that day.

Tobio shook his head roughly and focused on getting to school.

Morning practice was purely optional, so naturally everyone except Tsukkishima showed up. Hinata was already there, smugness creeping into his expression as soon as he saw Tobio.

"Hey Tiredyama! I beat you today!"

Tobio grunted, trying to ignore the sting of failure, "You got lucky."

"Are you okay?" Daichi asked him, "You're usually early."

There's something on the tip of Tobio's tongue, something he wanted to say. He looked at Daichi, who is everything that Karasuno is, and he almost said –

But Asahi's spike echoed through the gym. The gym was full, and the sound of the ball hitting the court should have been exhilarating, but all Tobio could hear was something hollow.

"I'm fine," he murmured.

Daichi gave him a small frown but let it slide when he got distracted by Tanka getting distracted by Shimizu.

Deciding not to use his upperclassmen as role models, he chose to focus.

"Yo, Tiredyama, throw me a toss!" Hinata yelled, very loudly, right next to Tobio's ear (how did he get up there so fast.)

Tobio rubbed his ear in annoyance but nodded anyway. No reason to give Karasuno a reason to hate him like –

He shook his head again, more subtly but not less angrily. He didn't want to think about it.

He tossed the ball, and Hinata was there to spike. When the ball hit the court, it wasn't empty, and that was enough. Tobio focused on that – focused on letting that being enough.

(But there was something coiling in his stomach, twisting uncomfortably. His limbs felt heavy, even as he moved to play the sport he loved, and his heart felt heavy with them.)

The feeling didn't go away, no matter how aggressively sipped on yogurt during lunch.

No, in fact, it only got worse.

He didn't have friends outside of the Volleyball club. Hinata made a point of hanging out with Tobio every now and then, but Hinata was Hinata. He attracted friends like the sun attracted moths. Yamaguchi was nice, but he and Tsukkishima had a bond that Tobio had only ever seen in Oikawa-Senpai and Iwa-Snepai. And he couldn't exactly expect Yachi to hang out with a guy when she had her own friends.

It never bothered him before – why would it? He had always been a bit of a loner, and the casual interaction he got from his teammates, even outside of the gym, was more than enough. He liked being alone, most of the time: people were overwhelming, with their double meanings and fake smiles. He just wanted to play volleyball.

He used to think like that in middle school too. But in middle school, things were different. In middle school, there had been Kindaichi and Kunimi. Even when he was alone, he wasn't, the banter between the two filling in the noise in the background. There were always there, behind him – until they weren't.

Tobio thought of and empty court, of the sound of hollowness, and felt his stomach churn.

But he deserved it, didn't he? He hadn't understood, he hadn't even tried, and he paid for it.

Karasuno would be different. He would do better.

He had to focus.

Tobio was off his game.

The entire team knew it. Even Hinata has stopped griping about it and was peering at him with concern. It pissed Tobio off.

Which only caused him to lose focus further.

His sets were still perfect, his movements were fluid, and he was still playing, so why did they all have to stare at him so much? Just because he was scowling a bit more than usual? What did it matter – he was playing perfectly so why were they –

He wondered, vaguely, what Kindaichi had thought, when Tobio first snapped him about his spikes not being fast enough. He wondered, where, along the line, their friendship had snapped.

Tobio shook his head and focused on the ball, on the court that wasn't empty, on the team that hadn't abandoned him.

But they would, his mind whispered, because you are not any different than before.

That wasn't true, Tobio told himself weakly, as he moved to receive Kinoshita's serve. The match was going smoothly, though Hinata was on the other team so that the two first years couldn't do anymore Freak-Quicks. Tobio couldn't complain about his own team though – Tsukkishima, Ennoshita, Nishioya, Yamaguchi and Tanaka were much better rounded than the other team of Asahi, Hinata, Kinoshita, Narita, Daichi and Sugawara.

See? He was already different – he could recognise his teammate's strengths. His vision had widened, he no longer focused solely on himself and his stronger spiker.

Oh well done, Tobio's mind mocked, Maybe in a century or so, you can be a normal human being!

Tobio missed a serve.

"Don't mind!" his teammates shouted.

I do, Tobio wanted to scream back.

But he held his tongue, because he couldn't mess this up again, because he needed to hold onto Karasuno like he never held onto Kitagawa Daiichi, because he didn't want to be abandoned again.

Focus, he told himself.

He focused on the feeling in his chest, the tightness of it. He focused on his memory, of a ball in an empty court. He focused on the sneer on Kindaichi's face when he spat, Tyrant.

Something terrible was clawing its way up his throat, but Tobio ignored it. Another perfect set, another perfect spike, the other side defended, and the game continued.

Another set, another spike, block, score, defend, set –

The fall balling, an empty court, a defenseless king –

Tsukkishima missed the ball. No, Tobio had set it too far. Too fast.

Tsukkishima pushed up his glasses, glared, and spat, "Tyrant king strikes again."

It was classic Tsukkishima. The team was used to it by now. Tobio was too – the taller boy has a stick up his butt, Tanaka said. Tobio had to look up the expression, but he definitely agreed. Usually, Tobio would let it slide, apologise if it was anyone other than Hinata and Tsukkishima.

Today, he froze.

A split second, like something had rooted him to the spot, long enough for Yamaguchi to notice and hiss, "Tsukki, really?"

Tobio shook himself out of it, and got into position, but the tension that settled on their side of the court was palpable. Before Suga served, he hesitated, his kind eyes zeroing in on Tobio with concern.

Maybe he should smile, but his smile was hideous, he hated smiling and frankly, he didn't feel like reassuring anyone at all. He tried to breathe, to loosen his body in case he had to receive.

The game continued. Eventually, it was his turn to serve again.

And he did serve.

Straight into the back of Tsukkishima's head.

If the tension had been thick before, it was solid now. The sound of ball hitting flesh echoed through the gym. Tobio's only thought was I didn't mean to do that.

And he hadn't. But he hadn't meant to make his team abandon him either but here he was. It was sickening to think about, and it was an unfair comparison, but once if started, it didn't stop.

"Okay!" Daichi said, clapping once. The silence shattered like glass, and everyone was back to life again, "Looks like Team Man Buns – "

"I didn't agree to that name – " Asahi protested, with no avail.

" – won!"

Hinata leaped up into the air to high-five Kinoshita and Narita both. Sugawara turned to jab Daichi and Asahi in the ribs. On the other other side of the net, Tanaka and Nishinoya roared in anger, and Kageyama was surprised their voice didn't break – probably because Ennoshita was making they didn't screech too loudly.

Tsukkishima was looking at him. Tobio refused to apologise.

He can feel the heat on his cheeks from the embarrassment. Missing serves was something dumbasses like Hinata did. This was just a one-time thing.

Today was just an off day. He'd be fine tomorrow.

"Okay, wrap it up," Coach Ukai said gruffly, "And can you lot not be so loud this late at night?"

"Yes, Coach!" the team yelled back. Loudly.

Tobio helped clean up and, despite his bone-deep fears, no one made him clean up on his own. No one abandoned him.

Yet.

If he thought the coil in his stomach had been bad that morning, it was only getting worse, sneaking up to his chest now and wrapping around his throat. He didn't understand why he couldn't just focus on the task at hand, why he had to dwell on something from so long ago.

He hated it. He hated himself for doing it.

And he knew he deserved it.

He knew it was just a matter of time until he messed up again. This was just the beginning, soon enough he would lose Karasuno too. And then what? What would he have? He knew what was coming – he should start preparing for the worse.

Tyrants didn't just change their ways. Kageyama had been a fool for thinking so.

The team started filtering out when Sensei stopped him briefly.

"Are you okay, Kageyama?" he asked, in that soft way of his that made Tobio think that he really did care.

(But he had though Kindaichi cared, and then Tobio just messed up, and he kept messing up.)

"Fine, thank you, Sensei," Tobio said automatically.

Sensei smiled, then rounded on Coach Ukai to give him the scariest, motherliest glare Tobio had ever seen, even compared to his own mother. Tobio blinked, wondering what that was about, but the moment was over soon.

Tobio left the gym, barely hearing Hinata when the boy asked if he wanted to toss to him for a bit more.

The night brought a chill, and Tobio pulled his jacket tighter over his body.

He remembered waiting for the bus with Kunimi. He didn't want to remember, but for the life of him he couldn't get the lump of the memories out of his throat. Sharing and umbrella, talking about the least favourite teachers, gushing over some new news about Volleyball. Well, Kunimi had been the one doing the sharing, talking and gushing, but that didn't mean Tobio hadn't been listening.

But he should've responded. He should have at least grunted. Why had he been so bad at being a friend. Maybe if he'd been better, at least Kunimi would've stayed.

If Tobio stood perfectly still, he could still pretend Kunimi was there.

Actually, someone was there. Tobio startled and turned to face the person who had ducked into the bus stop. He looked downright miserable and very familiar.

"Coach Ukai?"

"Oh, hey kid," Coach said awkwardly, "What are you doing here?"

Tobio glanced at the bus stop sign.

"I mean. Nice weather?"

Tobio nodded once, then turned back to the road. He heard Coach murmured, "Dammit, why couldn't that persistent bastard be here?"

... was Coach talking about Sensei?

Tires squealed against wet asphalt as the bus arrived. Not having anything else to do, Tobio turned to Coach Ukai.

"Where are you headed, sir?"

"Places. This your bus?"

Tobio nodded.

"Yeah, me too."

The silence that settled on them was a little uncomfortable. Tobio tried to remember the last time he and Coach had been alone outside of the gym and the shop and drew up short. Truth be told, Tobio wasn't really close to either of his instructors.

The bus comes to a halt in front of them. The doors open, a tired bus driver greeting them. It was the same one from the morning, and he looked over at them curiously - Tobio rarely had company after all.

He took his usual seat and Coach Ukai sat next to him.

Coach Ukai cleared his throat, "So. How're you doing, Kageyama?"

Tobio blinked, "Fine?"

Coach raised an eyebrow, "Right ... so you mopping the same place three times during clean up today is fine?"

Tobio felt his face heat up, "I did that?"

Coach hummed, slightly amused, "We didn't have the heart to tell you to stop."

Tobio blushed harder, "Sorry."

He must have been more off than he realised. But he didn't mean to lose focus like that. Pathetic, his mind whispered venomously. The coil in his chest tightened, enough for Tobio to want to curl up and ease the pain.

"Don't apologise, kid," Ukai said in a hurry, "Everyone has off days."

Not me, Tobio wanted to say.

He couldn't afford off days. He couldn't afford to make another misstep, he couldn't afford to serve wrong, he couldn't -

He couldn't afford to lose Karasuno. Not like he lost Kitagawa.

Tobio prided himself for being hard to read, but that was possibly because his emotional range was that of a teaspoon. Coach Ukai was far wiser, picking up on his thoughts almost instantly.

"I heard about your middle school experience."

Tobio stared down as his hands. Had everyone heard, at this point? Maybe there was no digging himself out of this hole. Maybe Kitagawa would follow him to the grave. Maybe that's why it was following him around now.

"But you're here now," Coach Ukai said firmly, "So what's wrong?"

Tobio stayed silent for a long moment, legs bouncing to the rythm of the bus's vibration. The world was silent, nothing like the ringing in Tobio's ears, the hollow sound of the ball hitting an empty court.

"I don't want to disappoint them," Tobio murmured finally, "But I always do."

Was he speaking of Karasuno or of Kitagawa? The lines were blurring, and so was Tobio's vision. He wasn't quite sure anymore, what the feeling in his chest was, but it was spreading like wildfire.

He hated losing focus like this. He hated looking back. And he hated himself, for ever making that mistake in the first place.

He was startled out of his wallowing we a rough hand roughled his hair.

"You kids are too good," Coack Ukai mumured, "My heart can't take it." At Tobio's questioning look, Coach raised his voice and continued, "Tobio, your team would never abandon you, you know that, don't you?"

"Yes," he said, automatically, even though he didn't quite believe it, "Of course."

But he thought Kitagawa would never abandon him either, until they did.

Coach Ukai must've heard the doubt in his voice because he said, "I know, it's hard to believe. But do you really have so little faith in them."

Of course not. Tobio knew that they were all good people (even Tsukishima and Hinata, though Tobio would rather concede defeat to Oikwa-senpai than admit it.) They weren't like that.

But Kinumi and Kindaichi were good people too.

It was Tobio that wasn't.

"Stop thinking in 'buts'," Coach Ukai's voice broke through his thoughts, "Kid, look at me."

Tobio did. His breath was almost taken away by the fierceness in the coach's eyes. Never had Tobio doubted the man's passion, but for the first time, he saw it on full display.

"I'm only gonna say this once, because this sappy stuff is super weird. But listen: Every day that you try to be better for them, they try to be better for you.

So, what makes you think you have to carry the burden alone, huh? That you can't put your weight on them the same way they put it on you?"

"I'm the setter - "

"Not talking about volleyball here, kid."

Tobio snapped his mouth shut. He gulped.

"Your team is more understanding than you think, you know?" Coach Ukai continued, "And they certainly won't abandon you easily. They're like a persistent leech," Coach shivered, "Trust me, I know. They take after Takeda."

"Uh."

"I'm bad at analogies, okay?"

Tobio stared. And then, a laugh left him, just a small scoff, but it made Coach light up.

"Oh man, I'm going to tell everyone I made you smile. It's gonna be great - "

"Coach."

"Huh."

"No one will believe you."

Coach Ukai stared, blinking like a confused cat. Then he ruffled Tobio's hair again, much to the boy's chagrin.

"You're a good kid, Kageyama. Trust me, you have nothing to worry about with your team."

"What if I mess up?" Tobio managed to ask.

"I don't doubt they'll set you straight. They already have, haven't they?"

Hinata's voice rung out in his ear, and so did Daichi's. They would sooner quit volleyball than play on a team where one of their teammates were left behind.

And, Tobio realised, that's the sort of team he wanted to play on as well.

The bus came to his stop and Tobio got up. He bowed low.

"Thank you, Coach."

Coach scratched his cheek in embarrassment and looked away, "Yeah, well, I was going this way too, so."

"Where are you going?"

"...Shintama."

Tobio bowed again, not as low but no less sincerely, "Goodnight, sir."

"Yeah, goodnight."

Only when the bus left did Tobio pause.

Wait, Tobio thought, Coach Ukai said he was going to Shintama. But that was in the opposite direction. Surely, Coack Ukai knew that? Unless he didn't, in which case Tobio would have to apologise tomorrow morning. Though, if Coach Ukai grew up around here, he would know. Why did he take Tobio's bus -

And then, Tobio thought, oh.

He ran to the schoolyard, leaving behind the bus driver who beamed at Tobio's change in mood. The school gates had just opened, and there was not a single soul in sight.

Except – there! A flash of orange – he wasn't late yet.

Tobio pushed his legs as hard as he could, one long stride after another. But despite the advantage of having long limbs, a tangerine was heading closer and closer.

One more push, and Tobio crossed the finish life – a split second before the dumbass, surely!

"I –" he panted, " – win"

"No! I do!" Hinata screeched, then chocked because it seemed that idiots forgot that they needed to breathe.

"Seemed like a tie to me," Tanaka said as he walked up, yawning, "You guys are something else, you know that."

"Good morning, Senpai," the two first years greeted with varying levels of enthusiasm.

Tanaka seemed far more awake at the sound of his honourfic. "Senpai," he said dreamily, as he deaded in, "It never gets old."

Tobio and Hinata turned back to each other and glared. "I win."

"Wow, speaking at the same time," Daichi observed as he walked past, "Do you share the same braincell?"

"Maybe you guys could share the point," Asahi offered.

"Don't be ridiculous," Noya yelled. Then turning to Tobio and Hinata, yelled louder, "FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!"

"I hope you aren't encouraging violence," Shimizu said softly, her approach as silent as ever.

"No! Of course not! I would never! I'm a gentleman – " Nishnoya's voice trailed off as he followed Shimizu indoors.

"Maybe rock-paper-scissors?" Sugawara offered.

Tobio considered its merits.

His rock smashed Hinata's scissors – and his confidence – to pieces. Good – dumbass was getting an ego.

"Meanie," Hinata murmured.

Tobio bit back a smirk.

It felt good to have friends again.

That afternoon, during practice, Tsukishima's approach set Tobio on edge. Rightfully so – yesterday hadn't gone very smoothly. Tsukkishima paused in front of him, hesitant, an expression on his face like he was constipated.

"Oi," he said, looking away, "I need to practice spiking. Someone needs to set for me."

"Are you asking me?"

"I didn't know you were dumber than Hinata."

Tobio studied him critically, "Did Yamaguchi talk to you?"

Tsukki glared, "What? I can't be nice without Takada's help?"

Had Tobio read the situation wrong, then? Entirely possible – he wasn't very good at this.

Genuinely curious, Kageyama asked, "You're being nice?"

Tobio must have missed one social cue or the other because Tsukkishima huffed, turned, and started to walk away.

The last time someone walked away, Tobio hadn't even noticed. His back had been turned, and his focus narrowed. This time, he said:

"I'll set for you."

Tukkishima snorted.

"I didn't mean to offend," Tobio said bluntly, even though the words tasted very bitter being told to Tsukkishima of all people, "I'm bad at social stuff."

"Yeah, no kidding," Tsukishimma said.

It meant, so am I.

Tobio knew that, at least.

Tobio set for Tsukkishima. The middle blocker stormed off after three because he was tired. "This measly peasant can't keep up with the King."

It didn't sting like Tobio thought it would.

In fact, it barely stung at all.

(Maybe one day, Tobio will be brave enough to say something as a comeback, but not reacting to being called a king was enough for today.)

Tobio opened unlocked his phone. A picture of Karasuno greeted him.

He didn't quite remember when Nishinoya had stolen his phone and changed his background. It's a formal picture, one taken for the school yearbook some time before Yachi joined. Everyone was smiling, like Kindaichi had been on that one photo. Carefree, happy, proud. They are standing with their back straight, eyes forward, united.

Tobio wasn't smiling.

But he was there. Next to a Yamaguchi, ginning shyly, and behind Hinata, who was beaming like the sun itself. He was there, next to people who cared about him, who would not abandon him. He was there, on a court that was full, in a team where he belonged.

Tobio felt something warm settling in his chest.

(Maybe one day, he'd believe he deserve this too.)

Having nothing better to do, he opened his Instagram, intending to check to see if anyone had posted. He didn't follow many people so, after scrolling through some posts of the International Girls' Volleyball Tournament, he ended up on square one.

Get together at Kitagawa Daiichi. Glad everyone could make it!

Kageyama stared at the picture, at the pictures of Kindaichi and Kinumi, of people he had known, and people he had never cared to know. He wondered who the first years were, and if any of them we like him. If any of them has stepped onto the court for the first time and known that volleyball would always be their focus.

The screen dimmed, but Kageyama taped before it could do completely dark.

He lingered for a moment longer.

Then, he tapped twice, and moved on.

AN Kageyama's biggest problem is that he doesn't thank the bus driver.

Dead meme, I know, I'll leave.

(Honestly, bus driver was best character, don't lie.)