Hinata high-fived Oikawa after spiking yet another ball into the floor of the other side of the court. "Nice toss, Oikawa-san!"

"Nice spike, chibi-chan!" Oikawa beamed back.

He still called Hinata chibi-chan, because Hinata had been, is and will always be smaller than him. Hinata was not even 170 cm tall, while Oikawa himself was over 185 cm. He remembered seeing Hinata in Karasuno's practice match against Aoba Jousai in the beginning of his 3rd year. Hinata had called Oikawa "The Great King" back then…. And Oikawa decided he should stop thinking about the past right then.

The coach called for a break, and Oikawa went to stand beside Hinata, who was drinking out from his Potari Sweat bottle. "I don't get what you like so much about that drink," Oikawa said jokingly, thrusting his chin towards the blue bottle Hinata was holding as he picked up his orange Poweraid bottle. "It tastes like spit and sweat."

Hinata gagged. "When have you ever tried sweat?!"

"Oh, chibi-chan, you taste your sweat every day," Oikawa said, rolling his eyes.

"I didn't drink this in my first year of high school," Hinata said solemnly, ignoring Oikawa's last comment. "I used to like Poweraid more as well. But then I tried it in my second year and decided it tasted fine enough. Besides, Coach Ukai always used to tell me that Potari Sweat is better for my body."

"Ah." Oikawa decided not to push any further on the subject of why Hinata drank Potari Sweat. "Chibi-chan, have you gone to the new cake shop around the corner? I've heard the strawberry shortcake there is really good. Or do you like mint chocolate ice cream cakes?"

Hinata's face instantly brightened up. Oikawa was glad, for once, that Hinata was a single-celled idiot with an awful memory. "Yes, yes! I love both! Do they also have tiramisu cakes?"

Oikawa laughed and ruffled Hinata's already messy hair. "Of course they do! Let's go after practice, shall we?"

Hinata nodded eagerly. All Oikawa saw was a short, bright haired boy smiling at the thought of strawberry shortcakes and tiramisu cakes. He did not know that Hinata himself was trying hard not to let Oikawa know that his thoughts were still lingering over the time when he had been a first year at Karasuno High.

The year when everything had started. The year he had met his first teammates and had started playing volleyball for real. The year he had met his first partner. The year he had met his current partner. The year he had met most of his current teammates. The year when he had started his first love. The year when he went on his first date. The year when all of that ended.

The year when he had made a mistake he never should have made.

"Shouyou, what are you staring at? We should go practice," Nishinoya Yuu, the libero of the national team, and Hinata's old and current teammate said, clapping his back. "Nice spike, by the way. I honestly thought you were flying right then." Nishinoya grinned widely, putting his thumb out.

"Thank you, Noya-san!" Hinata replied right away, jumping up and down, "your receives are great as always! I don't even know how to compliment them anymore!" He laughed loudly.

Nishinoya laughed alongside Hinata. He was short, even shorter than Hinata; his height lingered around the mid-160cms. Nishinoya blinked his wide eyes at the sound of the whistle. "Let's go, Shouyou," he exclaimed, "let's win. Let's do two times more than we actually can."

"Yes," Hinata cried, "let's do it."

For him.

.

.

.

"We meet again!"

Kageyama turned his head lazily to the side when he heard a familiar voice. Hinata Shouyou's voice. The said student was wearing a red and black checkered shirt and jeans today. His bright hair was sticking up in cowlicks, just like the last time Kageyama had seen him. Kageyama had to resist himself from reaching up and brushing his hair down. Instead, Kageyama muttered, "hi," propping his head up in the huge textbook in front of him, "I heard you were a volleyball player in the national team."

Hinata smiled widely. "And I heard you were most good-looking sophomore in Tohoku Uni…!" Hinata was unable to finish that sentence because someone hit him on the back of his head. Kageyama recognized the person as Sekimukai Kouji, the guy who majored in chemical engineering. They had a few classes together. Apparently he was Hinata Shouyou's friend.

"For fuck's sake, Shouyou, you don't just go around telling people that!" Sekimukai Kouji yelled, and Kageyama thought he reminded him of Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa Tooru's childhood friend. All of Kageyama's memories of Iwaizumi Hajime either had Iwaizumi yelling and swearing at Oikawa or hitting him on the back of his head.

Hinata made a face at his supposed friend and pouted, his full bottom lips coming out to form a pout.

And then the professor came in, and that was the last time Kageyama saw Hinata Shouyou, the middle blocker in the national volleyball team, in that semester, in that class.

Kageyama felt sort of bad for leaving Hinata Shouyou without saying good bye right after class ended, but he couldn't help it; he had been an idiot to sign up for two classes in a row on a Monday, ten minutes apart. It didn't help that the professor for the former class had ended classes 5 minutes late that day. His second class, World History, was on the other side of campus. He had to run as fast as he could. He told himself he would be able to see Hinata Shouyou the next class as well. He promised himself that he would talk a little more to the boy next class. He was, after all, the only person that had talked to him in college apart from projects. Kageyama didn't really have friends; they were all acquaintances.

Kageyama was disappointed when he arrived at class 2 minutes early, only to see the paper on the door of the classroom saying that World History classes were cancelled for today. He sat down on the floor of the hallway in front of the classroom, huffing for air. He had run a kilometer in 3 minutes, and he felt like dying. And this was what he got. Cancelled classes.

Of course, he was happy classes were cancelled. He would have been more happy if he hadn't run a kilometer in 3 minutes right before he found out.

He looked at his watch. It was half past 4. He felt hungry for some reason, and decided to go to a convenience store nearby to get instant ramen and onigiris with a tuna mayonnaise filling.

Kageyama was halfway through almost literally inhaling his ramen when he heard the ding of a text message. He almost choked, and had to drink a mouth full of aloe vera juice to help the spicy noodles go down. It was a text message from "Boke."

Are you busy?

Kageyama stared at the text message. A second later, another one came:

You're studying in college now, right?

Kageyama wasn't sure if he should respond. He had talked to this "Boke" person a couple of times after the first text messages, but they'd been just really simple things, like whether he still liked fried eggs, and whether his birthday really was on December. But then, this was also a really simple question.

Yes. Kageyama answered.

What do you major in?

It would be really awkward for the person on the other end of the line if he didn't respond now, so he decided to reply. Mechanical engineering. He typed in.

Do you play any sports?

Kageyama knew he should say no, because he didn't. He was probably one of the least fit people on campus. No, that was a lie. Kageyama was fit, but he just didn't exercise. It seemed as if his body had been made to do sports.

Kageyama shook his head. He was getting off track. He should just say no. He had heard, from his aunt who had visited him last year, that he had done some judo in primary. Kageyama didn't have many memories from elementary school, or middle school, as a matter of fact. If there was one thing Kageyama agreed on with Kunimi Akira, his high school classmate who Kageyama always yelled 15 types of different curses at, was that Kageyama had a bad long term memory.

So he typed in, No.

That sucks. You should try soccer.

Do you play soccer?

Kageyama thought that was a stupid question right after he pressed the send button. Of course the person played soccer. Why else would he be trying to coax Kageyama into playing soccer?

And Kageyama was proved wrong by the other's answer.

No, haha. I just thought soccer would be the best sport for you.

What sport do you play, then?

It was odd. Kageyama thought the other would answer right after he sent the text, but the answer never came. Kageyama decided to think about it some other time, and he turned back to his ramen. It was getting cold.

When his phone rang again, Kageyama was on the bus, on his way home. He had his earphones on and was listening to a song one of his high school friends, Kindaichi Yutaro had recommended: it was called Grade Skipping. Kageyama had ripped it off of a Youtube page, so he had forgotten who the singer was. But the song was good. Kageyama didn't care.

Naturally, Kageyama was annoyed and contemplated the idea of ignoring the text that had burst in in the middle of his song with a loud whistle on his ear. He made a mental note to himself to turn the text alarms off; nobody texted him anyways. Except for "Boke." Kageyama, suddenly feeling excited for some reason, clicked on the home button and then on the message icon.

I play volleyball, the text said.

And Kageyama couldn't help but feel as if he had known that answer.