Chapter Text
Hinata feels strange but can't quite place exactly what is bothering him. It's like a buzz, an itch beneath his skin that won't go away. He rubs his forearms, willing it to stop, but it just won't leave him alone.
“Hinata, is everything alright?” Sakusa asks, ever observant. Hinata snaps out of it, not even realizing he's been spacing out for the last few minutes. They are the only ones still in the MSBY lockers after a long practice, most of their teammates already in the showers, letting the hot water soothe aching muscles.
“Yeah, I'm great!” Hinata smiles, because yeah, I mean, everything really is fine and maybe I'm just tired, or maybe still jet-lagged? I've only been back for a few weeks, from literally the other side of the planet, so yeah, that's probably it.
Sakusa watches as Hinata keeps on rubbing his forearm unconsciously, appearing to be lost in thought again, and doesn't look particularly convinced.
Sakusa awkwardly pats Hinata shoulders in a ‘there-there’ motion, not really knowing yet how to interact with the newest addition to the team, and retreats to the showers himself. He doesn't wait for Hinata to respond and doesn't see the shock on Hinata's face, as the shorter man feels an electric current course through him, from the point of contact all the way down his spine. What the hell?
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Here's the thing.
Hinata knew he was louder, more extroverted and, well... Touchier than the average person in Japan. ‘I always imagined a Japanese guy being a bit more introverted,’ Heitor once said to him, in the beginning of their beach volleyball partnership. Hinata had laughed and joked about it.
Before going to Brazil, Hinata didn't think that was necessarily true.
He spent his high school years surrounded by Tanaka-san and Noya-san, always with one arm around his neck, poking at him about one thing or another. Also, Bokuto-san shouting ‘That's my disciple!!’ while bear-hugging him at summer training camp in Tokyo, even after he'd already graduated, if he had time to visit.
Even Kageyama, though in that case, that was mostly him shouting at Hinata or gripping his head until he would feel his skull start to crack.
Of course, the last year of high school was a bit different with Kageyama, as their partnership matured. They still bickered like children all the time, shocking some of the unsuspecting first years, but there was a natural synergy to them as well. The unspoken communication of a million things in a single glance. How they walked so close together, arms brushing ever so often, almost as if they unconsciously called for the other. In the ways their hands touched when Hinata passed Kageyama a towel or when Kageyama gave Hinata a yoghurt drink he bought for them both, none of them quite aware they were doing it.
The thing is, Hinata was used to touch, used to loud and just-a-bit-insane teammates.
Then Hinata packed his bags and hopped on a plane to Brazil.
At first it was ok, he remembers. Lucio-san was the one to pick him up at the airport, waving politely as greeting. Then he met his new roommate and, besides a very short and unceremonious “hello”, the Brazilian had barely looked his way. Later that day was when it started.
When Hinata arrived at Lucio's class, people from all ages, genders and sizes were already stretching. Lucio had put a hand on his shoulder and addressed the class, apparently to introduce him. Hinata only picked up a few words, his name, “volleyball”, “Japan”, his Portuguese still very unpracticed. Then the coach directed him to a lady in her 40's or 50's for paired stretches and introduced her as Olivia.
Her smile was warm and very friendly. She put out a hand for Hinata to shake, but when he took her hand, she pulled him for a double cheek-kiss, one on each side, then took his face with both her hands and started speaking too fast for him to pick up.
"She said you are a very handsome young man,” Lucio clarified. Both him and Olivia shared a laugh at the expression Hinata was making.
Hinata looked startled by the greeting, not knowing what to do. He took a second to realize his hand was still up from when they first shook hands. Then, he straightened up a bit to abruptly, which startled her instead. Hinata didn't remember ever fumbling a first meeting with someone quite like this. The coach just grinned at him, almost as if waiting for it. “You'll get used to it,” he said, and Hinata had a feeling he was speaking from experience.
Throughout the class, Hinata felt himself getting more and more overwhelmed and none of it had anything to do with his inexperience with beach volleyball.
Well, there was that too. A strange feeling of playing something so familiar but so foreign at the same time. But the thing that had Hinata's head spinning was how much he was being touched, and by people he'd only just met. He lost count of how many back pats, shoulder pats and side hugs he'd received. There was this one kid, maybe seven or eight, who quicky became obsessed with him, talking lightning-fast Portuguese, not realizing or simply not caring a single bit that Hinata couldn't understand a word of it.
At the end of class, a tall and tanned guy with a broad smile gave him a slap on the ass and thumbs up that had Hinata's face as red as his hair. Hinata spent the entire way home willing his body to settle down.
After that, Hinata started noticing things. While doing deliveries, going to practice on the beach, going out to eat, Hinata started to observe how people on the streets interact with each other.
There was always a cheek-kiss greeting, an arm around another person's shoulder, music playing in a random boteco¹, and people dancing or singing together. Brazilians were so affectionate, always so warm. It was endlessly intriguing to Hinata to learn about it, to experience it first-hand.
And well… With a personality as bright as the sun in his name, he couldn't pinpoint exactly when it became commonplace for him too.