induritize

induratize

hello! author here. thank you for all the support to my people and thank you for deciding to give this shot a try to the new ones! it took me months to finish this due to a number of things, but it's here, and it's long,,

this is dedicated to pandathebear and SmolTsukki for all of the amazing support they've given me for this during the good times, the bad times, and the funny and confusing times. i also want to dedicate this to Kattalee for her birthday!... whichwasthreeweeksagoThat's okay! happy belated birthday, katt!

anyways, this is getting lengthier than it already is. thank you again to everyone! please enjoy!

ps. oh yes! if this format doesn't suit your personal preferences, i have also posted this with the same title on my ao3 under "houtarou"! thank you! c:

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Outside, the sun burned hot across dirt ground and concrete walls, but inside the gymnasium, it was considerably cooler. It was always like that, Tobio supposed, deceptively cold inside. His fingers grazed the volleyballs, hot against the vague temperature they gave off. It was always like that.

March was ending, so that ensured April's arrival. It also confirmed that indeed, his time at Karasuno was nearing its end. No more would he drift off into a disturbing sleep during class of math and history, English nightmares and the terrors of Japanese. Leaning into a curled palm and shutting his eyes before a sun tilting its way into his classroom, as if it were trying to understand just what was so boring that one would sleep through it? and such manners.

He wouldn't smash his lunch down his throat all at once - to the concerned look of disappointment by his class representative - in order to catch just a few minutes of volleyball. Yes, that too - he'd lose the rusting bars supporting the nets, the stubbornly misplaced Mikasa balls, the heavy metal doors that brought back memories of his first day at the school - every time. And the volleyballs, themselves - the rough texture softened over time, how he'd work better with them the more he used them, and likewise, how they warmed to his touch.

One more, he'd call out, adrenaline lighting the tips of his fingers, the ends of his calves, the muscles on his shoulders and abdomen, alight. He'd press his hands together tightly on either side of the ball, as if he could touch the pads to one another through the object. He'd bring the ball close to him, inhaling the sweet smell of a team sweating out their excitement, the newly waxed floors, the salty scent the ball always had. He'd furrow his brows, close his eyes, exhale low and deeply.

He'd lose starting a set, throwing to himself alone in the gym, and most importantly, tossing to the ball of literal energy that was Hinata Shouyou.

At this point in the school year, it was only him, Tobio, Yachi, Tsukkishima, and Yamaguchi left from the team when he first joined. Of course, new people joined, and of course, the team eventually worked well with each other, but there was something about one's first team in high school. What was everyone doing now? he wondered to himself occasionally, on days like this, where he was stuck with the comforting pain of nostalgia. College? In a few weeks, all that was left of the original team would be scattered across Japan.

It was a nice thought that everyone managed to find somewhere decent to go, somewhere definite to be after school (even the bumbling mass of orange-haired annoyance). But, as for Tobio... Well -

"Ah. Kageyama." A voice spoke up, echoing across the gym. A nice, but surprising change to the silence sopping with distance thoughts.

Tobio withdrew his paused fingertips, head turned to the entrance. "Captain."