Chapter Forty-Two
"Kenma?"
The call of his protector is more than it should be, it should just be him asking for the older boy's attention, not this, not with Kuroo; each letter is filled with something different that Shouyou can barely identify, fear, despair, and anger. Kuroo had told him that Kenma wasn't going to be involved, the older boy had promised. Something told him to laugh, something deep, in the shadows where he couldn't find it, the urge was stifled when Kenma's arms lowered around him like a seat belt, preventing his escape. The setter's heart was beating against the back of his ribs, rhythmic and slow in the way it always was, even when it shouldn't be, the slow beats told him that his protester was completely calm. He's never been scared of Kenma before, scared for sure, but never of, because Kenma was the one to pick up too many pieces and offered him a home. Kenma, he thinks, was the first person to know about Grand King, to know that the Aoba Johsai captain was dangerous and cunning, Kenma was also the first person to know that he, Shouyou, belonged to Grand King. So why? He asks, glancing over his shoulder and through inky bangs to get a look at the older boy, Kenma's face is smooth lines, the same one he usually has; he thinks the expression might be a bored one, like the thought of going after Grand King didn't frighten or even interest him.
Kenma hums into his hair, quiet and rough, asking him too many questions in return. Are you okay? The older boy asks, even though they both know there's no point in asking. "Why?" He asks to Kuroo, catching the older boy's eye, irritation sparks under his skin like an itch when the Nekoma captain smirks at his question. "You promised!" He reminds. For Kenma. The older boy tightens around him, hands dig into his stomach, too close to too many scars but not hurting any of them, like Kenma knows already. "Shou?" Kenma's voice startles him, drags him away from bubbling anger in an instant, the middle blocker turns around again, stares into conflicted gold that turns into steel as soon as their gazes lock.
"It was my idea."
Shouyou blinks. The action isn't enough to stop everything from crumbling, "Your idea?" He echoes, confused and scared but willing to listen; Kenma nods slowly, "I told Kuroo to make a deal with you. To protect you." At first, he thinks of their first deal, the one with shadows and flashes that steal from him. You're mine now, got it? The second deal, made of fear and cemented in rain clouds, giving himself to Kuroo because he had said yes again to protect Kenma. You belong to us. The moment seems surreal, that Kenma, one of the smartest people he's ever known, would trust Kuroo. "Protect me." Kenma's hum of confirmation is cut off with a bitter laugh that Shouyou doesn't recognize until his lungs start to burn. "Him?" His fingers don't tremble as he points to the man directly in front of them, the Nekoma captain stares back with a frown but doesn't move from where Shouyou is pinning him. A sigh makes him realize that saying this wouldn't be easy, to tell Kenma everything, that Kuroo wasn't to be trusted either, that the older boy had used him.
"I don't trust him." It was the truth in its basest form, there had never been in instance in the entire time that he had known the Nekoma captain that he could say he trusted Kuroo, or even liked him, the older boy's action always holding ulterior motives and unsettling smirks. Loser does what the winner says. "I know." For a second, Shouyou thinks that Kenma does know. That, somehow, his protector had somehow known about everything in the dark, had seen the flashes of light for what they are. I think this one is my favorite. He knows that to be impossible, Kuroo would only do release them if he had fought the older boy and he hadn't, he should be safe but knowing that was different than knowing that Kenma hadn't seen anything. "I can't do this on my own. I trust Kuroo, can that be enough?" Kenma's tone, for half a second, reflects something that Shouyou knows too well. Guilt spikes through him and he's nodding before he can think about anything else.
"Sorry." He offers, wishing out of all the people he had to fight that Kenma wouldn't be one of them, knowing, above all, that he should trust the setter more than anything; he's not sure that Kenma would trust Kuroo if the blond boy knew, but every passing opportunity buried his resolve deeper and deeper, endless reasons why he shouldn't say anything, why he shouldn't tell anyone. Because he trusts Kuroo. "Okay." He says, even if everything is the opposite of okay. Kenma's smile is grim against his neck, Shouyou thinks it feels bitter, like grabbing onto a rose stem. "Sorry." He offers again, wishing, not for the first time, that none of this was happening. "It's all right, Shouyou-chan, these guys are here because they want to protect you." Kuroo's voice lacks the teasing bite it usually does, the captain's raised hand isn't offered to him and doesn't take the air from his lungs. Instead, the tanned fingers gesture expansively to the members of the Nekoma team, as a whole, they express a myriad of emotions, all of them revolving around a single focal point.
Anger.
Shouyou knows a lot about that, how to suppress it and how to give it up; whenever he gets angry, it's never for long, always remedied with outbursts that resolve conflict. All of them are staring at him, a feeling like a thousand voices whirls in his mind, offering him their anger in a way he doesn't understand. Protect. A word he's only associated with failure, his inability to protect that people that he cares about and of Kenma, who had succeeded in a goal Shouyou didn't understand. "All of them?" The question is stupid but he's not sure what else to say to avoid advancing the topic of why all of them were here, Kuroo nods, inky hair dancing with the action. "All of them, to protect our Shouyou." The middle blocker is pretty sure that Kuroo's our is exclusive but the older boy isn't giving anything away in his careful smirk.
Lev's expression surprises him the most, the half-Russian's brow practically reads revenge even when Grand King had never hurt the too tall boy, Shouyou was pretty sure that the taller boy hadn't even met Grand King and yet- "Now that that's out of the way, the plan, Kenma?" Plan? Knowing that Kenma knew was shocking in itself, but his protector being the one to create the plan for Kuroo's deal was- Shouyou couldn't even begin to describe it. He hears Kenma clearing his throat, the sound makes everything a little too real and Shouyou can feel himself start to disconnect from the situation. He doesn't want to know, because if he knows then Grand King could ask him and the older boy would get that information.
He listens to the Nekoma team talk, taking in tones instead of words, he's not as good as Kenma at reading faces but the straining necks and darkened eyes tells him all he needs to know. Grand King is going to get hurt. Shouyou isn't sure why he feels bad, Grand King had hurt him, had used him and bitten him until he bled, but Shouyou had said yes; he doesn't think that the older boy should be punished because of that, Shouyou couldn't take back his acceptance and hurting Oikawa wasn't going to solve anything.
Above all, he's scared for Kenma, if Grand King found out the blond boy had set this up, Shouyou's certain that something terrible would happen to him; his instinct to save Kenma was being pushed down by the older boy's calming touches, like plotting to hurt someone was something that bothered only Shouyou. The touches continue until his eyes fall shut, too exhaused from feeling every emotion at once, he can still feel the mood of the room as much as he can Kenma's heartbeat.
Flat moonbeams are splattered across the floor by the time he can manage to open his eyes, Kenma is still awake, can hear clicking from the older boy's game; Kenma must notice the change and Shouyou feels his head being positioned until he's staring into piercing gold, "Shouyou." Whispered, calm and collected in the way the older boy usually is, Shouyou nods in returns, ignores the lingering twitches under his skin as Kenma continues to stare at him with an unreadable expression. "Three weeks." Kenma says, like that answer questions instead of creating more. The middle blocker nods anyway, the Spring tournament was in six weeks, enough time for the setter to recover from anything Kuroo might do to him.
"I love you." Kenma offers after a long silence, the quiet room starts to ring, snoring cut off with alarm bells and beating hearts. "I love you, Kenma." His words have literal meaning and something else, please don't do this. Even if he wants it all to be over more than anything, he knows that this isn't the way, there had to be another solution and three weeks was the time he had to find it. "This isn't right." Kenma's dark brows pull together, like he had said something in a different language, that the other boy only spoke in terms of revenge and plans. "This isn't your fight." It shouldn't even be called a fight, Shouyou had agreed and Grand King had the right to do anything until it was over. "Shouyou-" His thoughts are cut off and he hears teeth clicking shut, "Nobody deserves to be hurt, not unless they want it, I mean." The statement was confusing to both of them, Shouyou thinks.
"I said yes." Everything fell together because of that, his relationship with Kenma was based off of agreeing to Grand King, that agreement also brought Kuroo and Daichi into the equation; the older boy is quiet for a long time, staring at him angrily until the setter tugs on his wrist. "What is this?" His answer is delayed by blunt nails digging into his skin, "My arm?" Kenma nods, "Your arm, it belongs to you. Not Oikawa and not me." The words sting as much as they help, Shouyou doesn't really remember a time when he didn't belong to someone, can't recall the last time he's been referred to as his own person. "I'm yours." He retorts indignantly, belonging to and with Kenma was all he wanted, nothing more. The older boy sighs something ancient but nods like he had been expecting his words, a wry grin sparkles in moonlight, "You have to be yours before you can be mine." A snore like thunder punctuates Kenma's ruling, Shouyou nods, ignoring the burning in his scalp as it rubs against the floor. "Three weeks." Kenma says again, that smile still in place, "You can be mine then and at the finals when my team beats yours." Shouyou laughs, something easy between them despite the countdown starting. Three weeks. It makes him almost wish that he had listened to Kenma's plan instead of the harsh words.
"Yours." A question but not quite, "Mine." Kenma retaliates, then adds, "If you want." Shouyou snorts, wondering if there had been anything else he wanted more than to be Kenma's, besides beating his team. "Are you scared?" Kenma, who is leaning over him like a shield, shrugs his shoulders. "I think I should be." He understands that to be more than it is, "But I'm not. I want to protect you more than anything." Anything. The word, a slip he rationalizes, sets him on edge. Shouyou knows about anything, knows the cost to see scarlet and he knows that he needs to keep Kenma away from that. "Don't say that." Kenma was his protector not an anything person, the older boy frowns, deep and questioning in a way that makes Shouyou's arms itch until he shows them to the older boy.
The sleeves on his club jacket are slow to move up, he's pretty sure that the shaking in his fingers is his body's way of telling him no; he doesn't look at them, can feel himself going nauseous from seeing the skin in his peripheral, the middle blocker focuses on Kenma's face, wide golden eyes that slide over his skin like a physical touch. "I did this." Shouyou had done everything, every mark was his fault because he couldn't say no. Kenma's angry expression melts into confusion, "I needed to see red..." The older boy makes a strange noise that he can't identify, fingers slide over the uneven skin, shaking like his own hands are prone to. "What about..." He's not sure there's been an instance where Kenma has trailed off before, the new experience is faded despite and Shouyou blames it on nothing more than exhaustion. "How?" He thinks Kenma sounds more curios than upset, maybe shocked, another something new that Shouyou isn't allowed to cherish at the moment; he flashes the setter a grin, his teeth feel like knives, stained with more than just his blood.
"I hurt someone." The admission hadn't been intentional but he hopes it's enough of a distraction that the countdown will pause, if only for a second. "Shouyou-" Now Kenma sounds angry, not mad but the irritation rings in his gravelly tone, "Who?" He almost feels bad that he can't answer the question, "Some guy." The older boy's eyes widen slightly before they narrow into hardened slits that make him look too old. "Why?" Kenma's voice doesn't match his face all of a sudden, Shouyou shrugs, the middle blocker isn't even sure of his motives. "I thought I was helping." That situation seems much different than this one, he acted on impulse, protected Kiyoko because he needed to, doubt didn't weigh him down because he didn't care what happened to him in that instance. He wishes that the feeling didn't linger like it did, "Our manager- and this guy, he was so big and he kept trying to..." His words dry up before he wants them to, he wants Kenma to know that this wasn't right, even if Grand King was comparable to that guy. Impulse decisions were different than planning to hurt someone, more dangerous.
"You protected her." The words hold awe that they shouldn't, Shouyou didn't do what was right, didn't run away with Kiyoko like he should have, instead he sank his teeth into a stranger's arm until he could feel muscles grinding between his incisors. "It was different then. The red, I mean." Kenma nods, a piece of hair slipping onto Shouyou's nose, it smells like sweat and the strangeness of Tokyo. "Like it wasn't even red, not like then." The older boy leans down until their heartbeats are thumping against each other, "Don't do it again." Kenma says, like it's a simple matter of do and do not, Shouyou nods anyway, mixing inky bangs with Kenma's loose hair. "Can we stop talking about it?" Three weeks. There was plenty of time to talk about the past after everything settled, not that there was a lot to talk about, he had pretty much told the older boy everything that was important. The setter hums quietly, sinks lower until Shouyou can feel Kenma's nose pushing the hair away from his ear. "What do you want to talk about then?" Kenma's tone is neutral enough that he can ignore the piercing gaze on his head. "Akaashi-san seems nice." The older boy hums again, telling him that he's listening instead of falling asleep like they probably should be. "And Bokuto-san?" Shrugging is difficult when Kenma's body is pinning his to the floor but he just manages to do it, "I know he didn't mean to..." The breathing against his ear turns harsh for a second before returning to normal, a sign that Kenma thinks there's more to it than that. "When he said that," Make sure to eat your rice. His spine tingles as the words start to overlap, "I thought I was back there, that everything was not real." Kenma's nose glides over his ear, a quiet but urging nod. "I could see that house." My house. He thinks, only for a second, that he should tell Kenma about Wales, about the Hinata clan as more than Natsu and himself. "He didn't mean to." He repeats, Kenma huffs into his eardrum like he doesn't quite believe it, even if both of them know that there is no way that Bokuto could know. "He touched my head." The sensation returns when he says it out loud, ice in his spine and fire in his hair, fear and confusion like it's natural to hate that kind of touch.
"What did you see then?" The question is more analytical than it has any right to be when they're both this tired, Shouyou huffs into Kenma's ear as a retaliation, feeling stupid for getting played like this. "I saw Grand King, I felt his hand and heard his voice." The muscles in his throat urge him to stop talking but he continues to rasp out the words because Kenma deserves to know them, "I think I found out your problem." He recites, mimicking the tone because he could never forget it, "But, what could cause problems in someone so bright." His face feels closer to Kenma's as he says that, like he's the one leaning over the older boy instead of the older way around. "Your height? Girl troubles, perhaps?" A wink from the devil makes his chest burn, "Daddy issues?" He loses focus and the words come out confused, made worse when Kenma's entire body tightens over his, like a rock is resting on top of him instead of a shield. "He-?" Shouyou laughs instead of confirming, trying to remember the night that Kenma had looked up those stupid words for him instead of the tone of Grand King's voice.
He wakes up with sore ribs and a fuzzy tongue, the weight on his teeth isn't blood and he's pretty sure that normal people wouldn't feel the urge to check their mouth for red first thing in the morning. Licking away a night without dental hygiene, Shouyou lets himself take in the room, muffled by a jacket under his head that hadn't been there before and unable to be observed because Kenma was pinning him to the floor, blocking the view of anything more than sunlight with messy hair that Shouyou would pet if his fingers weren't pricking in numbness. He almost wishes that he had something to do after the sun on the floor shifts half a centimeter, that he could care for his capitalist animals and water virtual plants while he waits for Kenma to beg for coffee through groans of exhaustion. Tokyo is different than Kenma's house, the blond boy wakes up quietly, lifts himself onto his elbows until Shouyou can see golden irises and a budding pimple on Kenma's chin, "Morning." He offers, attempting to sound less awake than he actually is but Kenma sees through him easily, glares down at him like he's envious about being a morning-ish person.
There's a groan from across the room that doesn't belong to Kenma and all at once Shouyou remembers that they aren't alone, that the jacket under his head couldn't be Kenma's because that piece of red was tucked away in Shouyou's gym bag in the room where he should have been sleeping. With his new freedom, a cold, quiet liberation that Shouyou doesn't want, he tilts his head back until he can see the source of his revelation. Lev is stretching his too long limbs and notices that Shouyou is staring at him almost immediately, unsettling emeralds make his eyes stop moving and he barely notices the weird smile or the fact that Lev is getting closer until the taller boy is leaning over Kenma's lethargic body. "Morning." He offers to Lev in the same tone he used for Kenma, the other middle blocker expands his smile until he can see too white teeth.
"Good morning, Shouyou-senpai." The taller boy fake whispers, Shouyou would have laughed if Kenma didn't choose that moment to dig his fingers into his already sore ribs, the touch makes his body jerk away and he ends up knocking his head into Lev's knee. The pain and the- whatever Kenma was making him feel, was dulled when Lev calls his name again, using that honorific like it was nothing, like the silver haired boy hadn't been dragged into a situation too dangerous for any of them. He doesn't understand it but he will accept it, if only because his head is spinning too quickly for him to find the right words. "Lev," Kenma says, sounding welcoming despite the burn of irritation that Shouyou can only feel because his skin is touching Kenma's. "H-yes?" Lev stutters in reply, obviously taken back by the tone but falling into the trap easily enough. "Go the fuck away." There's an obnoxious cackle, like barking and wheezing combined, from the other side of the room and Shouyou feels himself go very still. Kind of like barking. That was Suga's description of the night he had been pulled into the dark and returned bloody.
He already knew what Kuroo's laugh sounded like, had heard it almost a handful of times during his stay in Tokyo, one of those times, his middle finger when he counted each time, had been in the dark when his shoulders were melting into the entrance to Kuroo's house. The Nekoma captain appears before Shoyuou can beg him not to, the other boy appears impossibly tall when Shouyou is on the floor and able to smell Kuroo's socks. There's a grin that makes his entire body lock up, like prey to a predator. "Morning." Kuroo offers, leaning down until Shouyou can see the definition in Kuroo's folded legs and a few sparse hairs on the older boy's chin; he knows that he should reply, at least give an indication that he isn't dead before the other boy buries him again. "Morning." He stutters out, quiet enough that if Shouyou hadn't been the one to say it he wouldn't have heard it. That smile stretches like Lev's did, something too friendly for a person like Kuroo, a guy who makes deals and promises to hurt people; he hates how disarming the tilting of the captain's lips are, too white teeth gleaming in the sunlight and messy hair making him seem human as it glows the color Shouyou hates. You belong to us. He reminds himself of why they're doing this, Kuroo at least. Three weeks. Another voice promises, he'd belong with Kenma then and if making deals with Kuroo made that happen, he thinks he can handle it. Something acidic tells him otherwise, that new voice reminds him that he needs to take his pills before he starts going lucid at an awkward time.
A sudden movement prevents him from sliding out from under his protector, a knee pressing into his chest, across the placard that shouldn't be there. Mine. His chest whispers under Kuroo's heavy leg, Shouyou feels that odd sensation of his heart both stopping and starting to race too quickly. Swallowing around the smell of half clean and half dirty skin, he dares a glance up at the Nekoma captain, lips full of knives greet him in return and Kuroo has that look, the one that means trouble and screams deal. "Kuro." Kenma says, a growl that Shouyou thinks is made of irritable mornings, the leg stills but doesn't pull up and Shouyou is left stuck staring into gleeful chopper eyes that make his blood run cold.
The urge to run is subdued by two bodies looming over his but the need to get away makes his skin twitch, "I have to go-" He says into Kenma's hair, knowing the older boy could gather a reason if not multiple ones. The body above his rumbles, obviously displeased and Shouyou would feel bad if the trembling hadn't shifted into his legs. "Pills." He all but mouths against the setter's skin, there's a nod and Kenma, though Shouyou can feel the reluctance, rolls off of him and exposes half his stomach in the process. The middle blocker wants nothing more than to return and rest his ear against the exposed skin until only a pulse exists; he's not sure when Kuroo's knee gets off the stain on his chest but the dark haired boy is missing when he takes a look around. Taking to his feet, Shouyou looks down at the crimson that had been his pillow and contemplates starting a collection until he sees the name on the back. Kanji, messy on purpose, spells out Kuroo Tetsurou #1, the material almost slips from his fingers before he clenches his appendages into a fist.
Kuroo is a mystery to him, the Nekoma captain has too many variables to be just Kuroo, the other middle blocker always had something else trailing after him; he thought, more than anything else, that Kuroo lived up to his family name, maybe more than that, like Kuroo was made to be Kuroo, crafted from shadows and made to make deals, to hurt people. That existence, that purpose, confuses him as much as it interests him, Kuroo could have hurt him last night, when he was asleep, instead the older boy had assisted him. Kenma told him that it was the other boy that helped him though his lethargic state when he had been in Tokyo, that the Nekoma captain had rushed around with soup and ice packs until the only problem that he had was that he couldn't walk. Kuroo had disappeared after that, which would make him doubt Kenma's story if the older boy had ever lied to him before.
He takes the jacket with him, folded up until it was just a bundle of crimson and nothing more; the room for the Karasuno team is two doors down from where Kenma is, he's pretty sure that it's twisted irony that Akaashi-san's team is between the two doors. The setter offers him a wave that he almost ignores but quickly makes his way into room for a greeting, "Good morning, Shouyou-san." Akaashi greets, city accent dulled from the early hour but still polite and formal like always, Shouyou smiles easily at that, "You can just call me Shouyou, Akaashi-san." The older boy looks almost offended as he wipes crust from his eyes, "You can't call me Akaashi-san then expect me to call you just Shouyou." The middle blocker shrugs, turning to walk away to do what he's supposed to be doing, "Wait." There's a moment of silence from the older boy and Shouyou takes that to turn around and look into almost blue eyes and a quivering lip. "Thank you, Shouyou-" There's a pause in Akaashi-san's words, like the honorific is on the edge of his tongue but bitten into. The setter offers him a crooked smile that looks almost strained and Shouyou bows deeply, just to mess with the older boy, "No, thank you, Akaashi-senpai."Undignified spluttering follows behind him as he makes his way into the hallway, his smile carries over to his team room and Shouyou wishes he didn't feel glad that he didn't see Bokuto-san.
His gym bag is carefully positioned between Daichi and Suga-san, he's pretty sure that the older boys already know what he was up to but something about their faces is unsettling to him. "Morning?" He offers carefully, letting his eyes flick from the captain to the vice-captain in between seconds. Suga cracks first, thin lips stretching into a grin that smells like eight hours of sleep, "Have a good night, Shouyou?" The middle blocker is pretty sure that the older boy is not talking about the consensus that they would be attacking Grand King in three weeks, the wiggling of dark eyebrows almost confirms it and his face starts to feel too warm in the coolness of the room. "Yes?" He offers, still treading carefully as he digs into his bag, Daichi doesn't say a word until his fingers wrap around hidden orange, the rattling muffled by another piece of red. "Shouyou?" Quiet, like Daichi is scared he might run off if he speaks too loudly; he glances up at his captain while he blindly twists the lid off, not daring to remove the brightness from the fabric prison, "Daichi?" He returns in the same tone, concealing beads of white in between his fingers before retracting his hands. Dark brows furrow like the older boy can't quite think of what to say, the moment lasts too long only to be shattered by Noya-senpai, Tanaka-senpai in tow, "Yo, Shouyou!" He watches Daichi's eyebrows crease even further before he turns his attention to his other teammates.
"Morning." He offers back, clenching fingers until nothing but skin is showing, the libero smiles something impossibly bright in return, "Isn't it beautiful?" The barely shorter boy is a heavy contrast to the quiet groaning the rest of the room is emitting and Shouyou finds him drawn to the brightness quickly, enough to distract him from Suga-san's knowing look and Daichi's odd expression. "It sure is!" Noya laughs loudly, making the room gron louder and Shouyou uses the moment his teammate leans his head back to swallow the clammy pills from his fingers. His smile falls into place while he suppresses the itching in his esophagus, "Let's go practice, Shouyou!" There's dry fingers clasping around his wrist before the words are out of Noya's mouth, Shouyou lets himself get dragged to the closest gym feeling confused and empty, if only in a physical sense. "Shouldn't we eat before we practice, Senpai?" He tries but there's already a ball being slammed in his direction; right away he notices something odd in his teammate's actions, something frantic and jerky in a way that Noya usually isn't, jumpy maybe, but never jerky. There's no time to ask questions though, ball after ball being tossed in almost random directions, he's pretty sure the point of the exercise is to tire him out but he can't figure out why.
He's more annoyed than exhausted by the time the libero guides him away from the gym, old sweat combined with new sweat in addition to his teammate's sweat are all mingling on his skin and Shouyou wants nothing more than to drown in boiling water for at least an hour. Instead, the barely shorter boy drags him to a breakfast that's just started, the room has the perpetual scent of rice attached to every fiber in the too small box; the urge to run returns when he can almost see that too short table and a too tall woman he doesn't recognize, there's commotion around him that doesn't sound like Natsu and that's enough to drag him away from overlapping voices from a lifetime ago. Noya drags him forward a second too soon and a weird noise croaks from his throat that draws too much attention, people he doesn't recognize are swarming over a steaming pot that Shouyou makes sure to lean away from before it drags him in.
Noya, acting out of mercy, though Shouyou thinks it might be an oblivious kind, grabs breakfast for the both of them. The bowl is more eggs than rice and Shouyou almost doesn't mind that they're raw and covered in equally raw soy beans, until he tastes them that is, his libero, somehow, is wolfing down the meal like it's been too long since he's last eaten and even that seems off somehow. Something about this interaction sets him on edge, logically he knows that Noya would never hurt him on purpose, not even Tsukishima would do that but something about his senpai's actions are making him uneasy in a way he can't pinpoint. Even the conversation they have is weird, questions about where he was after practice, if he slept okay, only when Noya asks him about his arms does he realize what was actually happening. His t-shirt, loose as it is, has limits on how far it can stretch and refuses to cover his elbows let alone his forearms, Noya seems to notice the change and offers him a half smile. "Everything okay, Shouyou?" Warm in a way that Noya should be, he nods, half a lie but neither of them mention it. Fingers rougher than he's used to climb over the skin he wants to cover, faint pink lines that had been made out of desperation and fear, Noya touches them like they're not poisonous to look at.
"I used to do this." The other boy says suddenly, there's a look in his eyes that makes Shouyou think the libero isn't even here right now. "A long time ago." He says, like he's ancient instead of seventeen, "Not like this though, are those bite marks?" Shouyou nods, aware that he had no options other than choking down raw eggs and soy and that would only buy a few seconds. "It helps to talk about it." He thinks that the word might be a prompt, like he was supposed to talk about the night he saw red in front of fourteen... fifteen other people that could be listening. There's a long moment of just staring, at least twenty seconds where Shouyou finds Noya's hair more interesting than he should while avoiding wide brown eyes, the older boy talks first, his shoulders straightening until he has to look up at his senpai physically. "A few years ago," The older boy says with little context, "I think it might have been my second year of middle school? Or maybe my third-" Shaking a hand, Noya starts over, "I was in a dark spot, in a- uh, group of people." The boisterousness that Noya usually speaks with is gone, replaced with whispers Shouyou has to strain to hear, the older boy's gulp seems too loud but it only makes him lean forward until he can see the jitters in Noya's pupils. "God-" The libero runs a hand over his face quickly then looks back at him with something like fire in his eyes. "It was a uh, a gang, I guess."
Shouyou isn't really sure how he should react to those words, Noya always had a look to him, wild as Daichi had put it but knowing there was something more didn't surprise him as much as it should. "We- I never got caught, Tokyo police, am I right?" There's a bitter laugh that turns his blood into lead, "I should have been, caught I mean." There's something in Noya's tone that he can't identify but his focus is drawn to the arms being displayed to him, "I tried to pay for it, with the hurting- it worked for a while, then it was only me hurting because everyone else was..."
The other boy doesn't speak again, even when Shouyou finds himself pushing down the trembling limbs displayed for him. He lets his fingers linger on too thin lines, he assumes that a knife had caused these or something thinner, Noya had done everything with purpose, for selfless reasons that Shouyou didn't know about. He wanted to hate the older boy, for being noble and for doing something stupid, he knows it's stupid because there was nothing else it could be. There was nothing brave about that act, seeing red meant being safe for him, red for his teammate meant repentance, something tells him that he'll need something a similar, a way out but he has three weeks to find it.
Noya doesn't push him to talk about it and the other boy doesn't offer any information on his life in Tokyo, he speculates the older boys problems instead of his own over breakfast, wonders if Noya's impolite accent is fabricated for protection. Shouyou thinks, for a moment, that he's seen the real Nishinoya, just a kid like him, dealing with problems that nobody knows about. Something dangerous lingers under the older boy's skin, twitches with energy the middle blocker doesn't understand. It draws him in more than he would like, the danger and excitement, even when he knows what it can do. Danger creates scars, marks on the skin that don't go away and can't be hidden, excitement that makes you forget that you're human, that's his take on danger, he's sure that Noya's is different in every single way.
"Asahi." The name is offered after they've left the small room that smells like childhood, "Asahi-san?" He repeats, adding the honorific because he's not particularly close to the ace after the bread incident. "That's who I talked to when I came to Karasuno, Asahi- he..." Noya's lips roll, exposing fractals of teeth for a second before the older boy's face ducks towards the ground. "He saw right through me, the moment I stepped into the gym, I could see it in his stupid eyes. I wanted to hate him when he asked me if I was okay, almost pulled a knife on him when he had me cornered." That bitter laugh makes a return and something tells him that his senpai still carries a knife, at this moment for sure. "He kept asking every. Single. Day." There's so much emphasis Shouyou is surprised that Asahi-san isn't dead by now, "I lied at first, I thought he was like, a narc, you know?" He ponders it for a moment, nodding slightly, he could see how someone would think that after disproving that Asahi-san was Yakuza. "Told him it was from hopping fences, which is technically legal... I think." Shouyou laughs, the other boy follows with something more earnest.
"He didn't believe that but I ain't no snitch, cuz." Shouyou has no idea how to interpret that but ends up nodding anyway, "Asahi threatened to have me kicked off the team, I told him where to shove it before I do it for him." He doesn't laugh at that, something feral in the other boy's eyes tell him not to. "Kiyoko found out, I think she might have seen it too, she showed up at my house one day and... I've loved her ever since." There's a weird blush on Noya's tilted cheeks, anguish and embarrassment that he knows a little too well. He thinks about the other boy's words for a second, wonders if Kiyoko had seen through him before she heard the screaming, knew what she was getting into before she even pushed open Sato's door. "I love Asahi, too. For being there, even when I hated every second of it." He's pretty sure there's a word for liking both genders but the name escapes him and he finds that he doesn't mind not putting Noya in boxes like Gang Member and Boy-Girl lover, he can just be senpai, the other boy has earned that much, at least.
"Why did you tell me?" They're back in the gym from before, the room is empty but still smells of sweat. Turning to his upperclassman, he takes in cocked shoulders and tilting eyebrows, "I can see through you, Shouyou, and I think, for the first time in a long time, that I'm scared." The words startle him, take him by surprise and then beat his head over with it until he can feel a headache forming, there's a second where he forgets to breathe and his next inhale is loud enough for Noya to take notice and step forward to grab onto his just higher shoulders. They tremble under his senpai's too strong grip, the muscles, he knows, are not from volleyball and he almost doesn't care. "You need to be careful, guys like Tetsurou are bad news." It takes a moment to wrap his head around that, the use of Kuroo's given name makes him think that there's more to it than bad news, like old news, ancient news from a lifetime ago. "He was-?" Noya doesn't answer him and Shouyou should have expected the silence, the libero tosses him a ball and that's the only noise in the room until more of Karasuno shows up, as if drawn in by the silence and brooding.
Morning passes into evening before Shouyou can even remember how any of this started, blurs of Don't Mind and the smell of icy hot numb him from enough that he can play, that he can jump, without thinking of flashes of light or seeing the countdown. Three weeks. His shoes squeak when he lands, propelling time back into normal speed and Shouyou stumbles half a step before jumping in front of someone's spike; he's not sure what is worse, his body screaming that he's going to hurt or everything else screaming that someone else is going to get hurt and he's doing nothing to stop it, he's pretty sure that the latter is worse when he factors in Noya's words about the Nekoma captain.
The team separates for dinner, Daichi's orders that they meet new people during this training camp and not waste it annoying each other, it's excuse enough for him to find Kenma and slide against the taller boy's side, Akaashi-san is there too, along with Bokuto-san, who Shouyou pretends not to ignore even when they all notice it. Akaashi-san is nice enough not to mention it in front of his captain and carefully slides a hand over Kenma's mouth before the words can come out in front of the boy in question. "Please don't hold a grudge against Bokuto-san, Shouyou." The older boy requests once the captain is off on a quest to find his precious kouhai some fruit milk to quench a questionable thirst. "Sorry." He offers and he is very much so sorry, even if he can't tell the stocky boy himself because the sensation of his head burning is never far off when Bokuto-san is too close to him. "He's harmless, off the court anyway." A glance under his feet shows that they're very much on a court, Akaashi's deadpan expression cuts his smile in half.
"He's really drawn to you, I think he has a thing about people pulling away from him." Shouyou blinks at that, tries to examine Akaashi's expression the same way Kenma is doing, "You tried to pull away?" The blond boy asks in his place, Akaashi snorts, "More than that... Eventually, Bokuto-san ending up climbing to the second floor of our school to bring me lunch, then he asked me to set to him." Shouyou laughs quietly, wondering if Bokuto-san is even a real person or just a shared piece of their imagination. "I'm really trying." He says after he quiets down, Akaashi nods approvingly, "I can't ask for much more, he doesn't mean anything bad. I think he sees a friend in you." The words are perplexing in every sense, Bokuto-san was tall, warm and smelled like ice cream for no reason, Shouyou didn't really know how to describe himself, not broken but something close, scared too, nervousness tying those things together. Kenma helped with those things but they always lingered and they had more presence when he was near the strange haired captain, not that he would admit that to Akaashi-san or Bokuto-san.
"We're going into the far gym after dinner, I think you should join us. You're welcome to join us, Kenma-" Shouyou was pretty sure he could see the honorific attempting to slip through Akaashi's teeth. Something in the other boy's words make it seem more like a command than an invite, he really wishes he knew how to do that; he resigns himself to his fate, nodding to make Akaashi-san smile politely, Kenma shrugs noncommittally, like he already knows that he would be begged there if only so Shouyou could see his face while being too close to Bokuto-san.