Losing is Winning

Chapter 6

Just as Tobio had hoped, a good night's rest was enough to get his head out of the vortex of anger and self-pity. Today will be better, he told himself when they got up to get ready. And it was. The ball felt great between his fingertips, like he was fully in control of its path, and, even though there hadn't been enough time to go through all of his new strategies with Hinata during breakfast, they had at least talked about one of the new variations.

The blood was pumping through his veins, breath rushing out of his lungs at the same time as he pushed the ball up into the spikers hands time and time again.

Hinata was in great shape, too. Tobio noticed his focused gaze, the power that he put into every step, every jump, every hit. He was giving it all he had. They both were.

Not even the fact that many of their attacks got blocked could change something about that happy warmth that was whirling in Tobio's veins and the jumps his stomach seemed to make every time he set the ball right towards Hinata's palm. Their teamwork was at peak performance, like they shared every thought—no miscommunication, no mistakes. Hinata jumped, Tobio tossed. Hinata noticed an opening in the opposing frontline, Tobio calculated at which spot his spiking hand would need to meet the ball. Hinata was the whirlwind, chasing over the court, Tobio provided him with the weapon that turned him into a threat.

Playing like this, Tobio felt weightless; he was soaring—until Hinata's focus transformed into losing all sense of what his team was doing. He chased the ball like a bloodthirsty dog chased a rabbit.

A muffled bang reached Tobio's ears. Ripped out of the match's momentum, he turned around just in time to see Hinata's body settling roughly on the ground.

For a second, everything stilled. Please don't let him be hurt. An unknown desperation surged through Tobio and trapped the air in his lungs. Even as Hinata jerked up immediately after the collision, Tobio remained frozen; his body ignoring the relief that was rushing through him.

In a frantic manner, Hinata kneeled before Asahi, uttering apology after apology. Only then did Tobio comprehend that they had crashed into each other—that Hinata had crashed into Asahi. Because that last toss had been so out of order that it clearly had been entrusted to the ace—never the decoy that wasn't able to hit a quick toss unless his eyes were closed.

Coach Ukai had apparently recovered from the shock, reprimanding Hinata in a strident manner. With it, the tension in Tobio, too, finally burst and made way for loud insults. Why did Hinata do something like that, endangering Asahi and himself of getting hurt? Maybe Hinata wasn't as ruthless as Tobio had thought at the start of the school year, but some of his actions definitely still came close to his initial impression of him.

Tobio had just returned to his starting position, ready for the match to resume, when he heard Hinata behind him. Coach Ukai had returned to the bench already, apparently done with making Hinata feel bad for his mistake. Considering that, however, Hinata looked much less remorseful than half a minute ago. Instead, Tobio noticed with surprise that there was a glimpse of determination in his eyes that didn't quite fit the moment.

Tobio frowned.

"I'm going to stop closing my eyes."

For a split second, Tobio's world halted, and it felt like he had lost all his footing. What? "Come again?" What is that dumbass thinking?

Hinata lifted his chin. "It's no good how things are now. I can't solely rely on you to be able to hit that quick."

But Hinata didn't have any other options. He needed to rely on Tobio, that was the whole point. "We do it this way because you couldn't on your own." He turned away.

Hinata had said he would hit all of his tosses. He had said that he would put the trust in Tobio and close his eyes if that meant that he could make those points for the team. And now he took all of this back? Just like this? The claws of betrayal settled deep into his stomach. Tobio ground his teeth. Focus on the match, make the best choices for the team, he reminded himself. It was hard. Don't just think of yourself. It doesn't matter what Hinata said back then. You should have known that this promise wouldn't last forever. 

"I don't know what's on your mind," he said, and fervently hoped that his voice didn't sound as pressed as it felt, "but I'll listen to it later." Listen to what your teammates have to say, only this way you can understand what they think. "However," he warned, "if you say you'll start immediately, I'll tell you now that I have no intention of tossing to someone who I know will miss."

He did it. A rational response that was backed up with a reason. He should have been proud of that, but the damage was already done; the tension billowed between Karasuno's players like fog.

How am I supposed to set the ball in a way that gets us points if no one is in their usual rhythm anymore? Everyone was suddenly marching to a different drummer, and Tobio cursed Hinata for starting all this.

Hinata, however, didn't seem to care about the effects of his actions. Stubbornly, he stuck with his statement and didn't close his eyes for just a single jump. Was it really more important to him to not have to trust in Tobio's tosses than to take part in the game? The thought hurt, but Tobio clenched his jaw and pushed it down.

At the end of the day, Tobio sat on the bus back home to Miyagi with the strong urge to bury his face in his hands. After he had heard Hinata out, instead of defusing the situation, it had the complete opposite effect. But even if he didn't exactly enjoy how they were now, he didn't plan on changing his mind either. If Hinata thought opening his eyes would give him any advantage, he was wrong. And Tobio wouldn't waste time by practicing something pointless. They each played a role in this attack, and the technical aspect was his, not Hinata's.

♚

Maybe Tobio's determination wasn't as strong as he had hoped. Maybe Hinata's eyes simply possessed some weird power a scientist should study. Whatever the reason, after they arrived back at Karasuno, he found himself following Hinata through the gym doors.

He should have known better. It was nothing but a pointless waste of time. No, even worse; instead of getting them any step forward, those few minutes of tossing balls had managed to demolish multiple months of building a partnership. Or maybe it didn't and what had happened were just the results of Hinata slowly distancing himself from Tobio's sets.

With a bitter taste spreading on his tongue, Tobio watched a scornful smile grow on the lips of his ill-looking reflection in the shop window. Shouldn't you have known that would happen? You've been telling yourself you are a vital part of the team for so long, shouldn't you have noticed by now that this is nothing but a desperate attempt at convincing yourself?

Watching the reflection blur before his eyes, he exhaled slowly. Shakily.

Hinata didn't want to rely on Tobio's toss. He wanted to fight on his own.

It was exactly what Tobio had thought would make a good volleyball player—exactly what had almost ruined all his dreams. And yet, every time he tried to tell Hinata that this wasn't something a player should want, Hinata only got more vehement in his decision. Tobio didn't understand why he wanted to improve something that wasn't good for the team instead of working on the things that would actually make him a better volleyball player? Why did he put becoming independent on the court above improving their chances of winning, of playing together?

Tobio squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, a few seconds later, the lump in his throat had shrunk to a more manageable size. He wouldn't support Hinata in his selfish mission of destroying the team's dynamic.

In fact, he needed to do something against it. If the current tendency of the team dissolving further and further continued, they could forget about Nationals altogether.