Kitsuna met up with the boys, loading onto their own bus. She earned a few glances, but nobody said anything. Only once everyone else had dozed off or put on headphones did Suga speak up. He spoke softly, and Kitsuna missed what he said the first time around. She pulled out her earbud, indicating that she was listening now.

"Sorry. I overheard the girls' team stuff. I feel like I'm at least partially responsible for that," he apologized again. Kitsuna looked out the window, covering a yawn.

"Nah," she shook her head, hair falling loosely from where she tucked it behind her ear.

"I probably never would've put in an application myself. You doing it means that it actually got done, and now I get to play sometimes in actual matches. Against strong teams, too," she continued.

"I guess so," Suga agreed, but he looked like he was still harboring some guilt. Kitsuna sighed, another yawn creeping up.

"I guess, well. When we all got our numbers, I was the only one who reacted weirdly when I got mine. The rest of you guys weren't bothered at all, like it was normal or already expected. Means you guys thought I was a part of the team already, yeah?," Kitsuna glanced sideways at the boy seated beside her. It was hard to read his expression, a mix of surprise and curiosity.

"You'd have more chances to play on the girls' team. They didn't have many members, where we've got enough for two whole teams," Suga pointed out a pretty obvious point.

"Hm, maybe. But," Kitsuna trailed off. Suga studied her facial expressions, muddled with a range of emotion as she thought about various things. He watched her jaw tighten, then loosen again. Her brow wrinkle, then her lips tighten. Eyes that wandered, catching the evening light with a warm orange glow.

"But?," he finally asked, curious to know what was on her mind. She rested her arm on her bag, turning further toward the window and resting her chin on her palm.

"I..wasn't the best at making or keeping friends growing up. Was always getting into fights," she recalled one such fight. An instance when several boys ganged up on her, after she had beaten each of them in succession. It got rough, but someone intervened. A boy, with dark hair and deep brown eyes that could pierce the soul.

"Daichi was my first friend. He stuck around, and kept trying to get me to stop fighting. Yui was through him. They were my only friends through middle school, til they moved up to highschool," Kitsuna recalled many summers spent wandering the streets just to end up at Daichi's house. She played with his younger siblings, and earned a free dinner most of the time. Then the second half of her second year, and her entire third year. In and out of hospital rooms, and physical rehabilitation. Moving in with Keishin and his mother, then into her own place. The solitude, and homework, and exhaustion of it all.

"I spent a lot of time out of school, starting from my second year of middle school. Did a lot of homework in-uh, at home. Get sick easily, fights gone bad, stuff like that," she corrected partway through, still not ready to fully tackle that subject. "Daichi would bring me homework and stuff, but after a while we fell out of touch. Yui faded out pretty early into all that. So I guess, I'm glad you wanted me to stick around. It's, um. It's nice. So thanks, I guess is what I wanted to say? Don't stress about it too much."

Kitsuna put her other earbud back in, signaling that she was done talking for now. Sugawara was given a lot to think about, and he grew lost in thought as the bus rolled onward. It was obvious that the girl had narrowly dodged something toward the middle, a subject that kept getting hinted at but never actually mentioned. By her, and by Daichi who was fast asleep in the seat ahead of them. Whatever it was seemed like it was pretty heavy, and he didn't want to pry, but damn if he wasn't curious by this point. There were so many strange things about her. Her family situation, the absolute hatred of her last name. That one time Daichi accused her of drinking and her dead-eyed fury rivaled the captain's own. A terrible smoking habit, that apparently was no new issue. There were scars all over, from her face to her legs. The legs were the worst, with surgery scars on her knee and ankle as well as splotchy pale marks. Like those from severe burns.

"Hm?," Suga was pulled from his thoughts as a gentle pressure was applied to his shoulder and something tickled his cheek. He glanced to the side, and saw that Kitsuna had first folded up around her bag in the seat, then fallen into him. She was fast asleep, her breathing slow and rhythmic. That was another thing, her apparent terror related to vehicular travel that was far above just regular motion sickness like Hinata. She was unbothered by it right now, though.

Eventually the bus rolled to a stop in front of the school. Sugawara had just dozed off, and nudged Kitsuna awake while Keishin and Takeda roused the others. They unloaded, with a cacophony of yawns and different stretches, when a teacher called out from an open window.

"Hey, you guys are on tv!"

"No way!," several voices rang out, filled with a new burst of energy. Everyone crowded into the faculty room, kneeling around the small box television set. There was a broadcast on about the games, but Karasuno had precious little screen time. Seijoh was featured prominently, and that set everyone off. Almost everyone, anyway.

"What's so great about being on camera, anyway?," Kitsuna muttered. Suga was the only one to hear it, and he kept his thoughts to himself on it.

…

The next day, the boys' volleyball loaded back onto the bus. They were slated for a match against Seijoh first, and tensions were high. Hinata managed not to barf on the bus, but immediately ran for the bathroom once they got to the gym. There was a lot more muttering today as they headed for the gym to warm up and mentally prepare for their match. It was more hushed though, and there was more apparent excitement and buzz. Kitsuna headed out to get changed, with some boys on other teams stealing glances at her and Kiyoko who went with to hold onto her stuff.