A Co-Captain's Doubts

End of a Set

Watching the match before him was almost more painful than the ache coming from the deep bruising under his eye. Shaking his head frustrated, Suga grimaced as yet another point was awarded to Kita Wasaki, making the score (12-20), the massive green and black team in the lead. The only points Karasuno had managed to take were from botched serves and a couple sloppy spikes. They were on the fast track to losing the first set, and if they couldn't gain momentum in the second, the match was as good as lost.

Chiding his negative thinking, Suga held his breath as he recognized the player up to serve. A chestnut-haired boy with bangs skewing the view of his right eye, one of the guys who'd helped to throw him into the janitor's closet.

"Nice serve, Tatsuo! Don't hold back." Kanda's deep voice called to his teammate, nodding his head with those large black brows dipping suspiciously, number 7 grinning in return as if they shared a secret between them.

Unconsciously hunching his shoulders, the ashen haired boy looked on with discontentment, noticing his fellow teammates throwing angry expressions to each other, stiffening up again as they glared at the boy holding the ball with a focused expression preparing to serve. Had they recognized the kid as one of the attackers? It wasn't a far-fetched possibility that Hinata had been given the chance to point them out, and knowing the loud first-year, Suga suspected that was the first thing he'd done when seeing them.

Typically, Suga would yell out another reminder to keep their heads in the game, to stop giving their attention to the other team's obvious distraction and focus, but he was no better. His headache was getting worse as he put too much effort into analyzing the match, and it was becoming increasingly difficult not to shut his eyes and let things play out however they would. What could he do anyway?

"Stop it, stop it, pay attention..." Suga muttered to himself, closing his eyes tight briefly and taking a deep breath that made the bruise on his ribs ache.

He really wished the nurse had given him pain killers, perhaps his head would be a little clearer, and then he could more easily continue the charade he was a valuable member on the team- Damn it. there was that stupid voice again. Letting out a sigh and dragging his right lid open, Suga looked up just in time to watch number seven leap from the ground and swing his arm forward for a jump serve that mimicked the power of a spike.

The ball careened toward an open spot on the floor, forcing Daichi to lunge forward, arms outstretched and reaching to get to the ball before it slammed against the ground, but it seemed he wasn't the only one with that plan. Seeing Nishinoya spring from his left, the captain knew it was too late to change his direction, and instead pulled his head and arms back to lessen the blow.

Knuckles meeting skin, Noya realized there was about to be a collision too late, and in alarm, messed up his receive, launching it straight into the net as his fist rammed into Daichi's jaw, unable to apologize as the ball ricocheted and bounced back into the Libero's face.

Jumping to his feet in sudden anxiety, Suga dropped the ice pack from his face to call out concerned, feeling sick with rage as a trio of players began laughing on the other side of the net.

"Noya, Daichi!"

Rubbing at his forehead with a wince, the orange-clad second year scrambled to his knees and peeked into his captain's face, cringing as the brunette pushed himself onto his hands and knees, covering the left side of his jaw.

"Sorry, Daichi! You okay man?"

Groaning but nodding his head, the third year gave a grim smile.

"I'm fine but remind me never to get in a fistfight with you." He mused.

Toothy grin breaking out, Noya barked a laugh and slapped Daichi roughly on the arm.