Work Text:
POV : Oikawa Tooru
Oikawa shivered in the chilly Autumn weather, dearly missing the Argentinian sun. He’d never been so sensitive to the cold when he’d lived in Japan, but Tooru had become a little spoiled with the much milder winters in his now-home country. It was Halloween night and Oikawa was heading back toward the train station after visiting his family—he’d managed to scrounge up some time off and enough money to visit, landing just yesterday.
Normally, Tooru would be much happier to visit, and everything about the visit had seemed perfectly normal right up until he’d gotten off the plane.
Hajime’s eyes had been red and swollen when he’d pulled Oikawa into his usual welcome-back hug, though this one was shaky and tighter than usual. Tooru had tried to ask him what was wrong—what had happened, but the trainer had told Tooru to enjoy the day with his family and that Iwaizumi would explain everything when he got back to Osaka from Miyagi.
It was just… unsettling. Hajime had been weird, telling Oikawa to avoid his phone for a bit, to just enjoy family time. Tooru was a mixture of curious and worried. While he hadn’t gone snooping or searching—yet, he was planning on going through messages from friends, which he was suddenly unsure if they were actually welcome-back messages or not—he had reached out to Hajime’s parents, and they hadn’t known what was wrong either. At least Oikawa was reassured that they were alright.
It was just… weird. Hajime had barely been able to look at him, tearful and overwhelmed and had nearly burst into tears when Tooru had tried to push for answers, so he’d backed off a bit. He’d considered postponing the dinner with his family despite Takeru wanting to show him his costume this year, but Hajime had insisted in a way that just made a pit open in Oikawa’s stomach.
Whatever Iwaizumi hadn’t told him yet, it was bad enough news to make the trainer push him into having a good night back in Japan before he told him. Oikawa’s own family didn’t seem to know what was up either—or if they did, they didn’t show it. Despite Tooru’s best efforts to relax and reunite with his family properly, the back of his head kept swimming with the look on Hajime’s face when he’d picked him up from the airport.
Normally, Oikawa would push more. He’d prod, he’d complain, he’d beg, he’d snoop and go looking for answers on his own. But something about the tremble in Iwaizumi’s voice when he asked him not to. To just enjoy a day with his family, and he would explain everything when he got back to his best friend’s apartment after a day in Miyagi.
For some reason, getting onto that train felt like Oikawa was preparing to walk himself to the gallows.
Tooru watched people come on and off the train—which would be a long ride, though he’d booked a bed to help him get over his jetlag sooner. In the car, he watched people—some business men, some wearing costumes—walking back and forth down the aisles.
When Oikawa spotted a set of very familiar, bright orange curls, he was out of his seat and flinging the car door open. Shōyō himself jumped at the loud clatter of the door, and then his eyes went wide.
“Oikawa-san?” he breathed. Hinata was clearly celebrating Halloween. His bright ginger hair had what was likely black wax rubbed into the ends, giving him a vaguely singed look. He’d gone all out, dark, smoky eye makeup and black eyeliner that made his amber-gold eyes pop. Maybe he was wearing contacts too, and his upper lip was black with lipstick. He looked paler than usual, and added little points to his ears. There was something unearthly about the look, as well as the muss of black feathers delicately added to his hair.
Tooru, delighted to see his friend—and fling-mate in Rio—unexpectedly, pulled Hinata into his car—which was empty save for him—and squeezed him into a hug.
“Chibi-chan! What a surprise!” he exclaimed, allowing himself to put down the worry and his attempt to start snooping into what had made Hajime so sad yesterday evening before Oikawa had gotten onto the train. “What are you doing here?! Did you know that I’d be on this train?!” he added.
Hinata was stiff in the hug for all but a moment before he relaxed into it with a little shudder, breathing out a sigh of relief. Oikawa glanced down to see more of his costume. Lots of black. Gorgeous traditional Japanese robes. All completely black and sort of shimmery. Expesnive-looking—and feeling—silk haori, nagagi, and hakama. Though the back was altered, slits added to allow for cute little decorative black wings—four of them—small and folded to the redhead’s back. More feathers formed a crow-like tail that peeked out under his haori. His belt dangled with a large crow-skull mask and a few other little danglies that jingled like bells when he moved.
“Aw, chibi-chan! Feeling nostalgic? You look like a crow prince,” Tooru said, leaning back with a happy grin. He’d missed Hinata dearly since they’d gotten close during that happenstance meeting on the beach a few years back. Video calls and text messages and the occasional visits weren’t enough for this person that held a special place in his heart.
Shōyō looked weird and tense and a little sheepish, but was crushing Oikawa into an embrace just as eagerly. Huh. Maybe he knew what was going on with Hajime.
“Something like that,” he laughed, and Tooru leaned forward. Crows didn’t have fangs, but Shōyō must be wearing a rather fancy set, they looked real!
“You look very spooky,” Oikawa assured him, glancing him up and down. The costume was highly flattering on the man, though… “You’re wearing your kimono wrong. The left side is supposed to go over the right,” he told him, poking his fingers over the front.
“… It’s part of the…” Hinata trailed off, shaking his head. “I didn’t expect to run into you either! Didn’t you just get here… uh… yesterday…?” he managed, shaking his head as if to clear it.
“I am so sick of traveling,” Tooru bemoaned, pulling Shōyō all the way into the car and sliding the glass door shut behind them. “The original plan was to stay in Miyagi for a few days, but Iwa-chan’s being weird and I want to be there for him. Even if it means a fuck-ass long train ride twice in as many days.”
“… He is?” Hinata asked, taking a seat right next to him on the cushy bench, their legs touching. Hmm. Shōyō seemed a bit off, too. Happy to see Tooru, definitely, but something about him felt sad.
“He was crying into my shoulder at the airport. He won’t tell me what’s wrong…” Tooru admitted. “Do you know what’s up?”
Shōyō chewed his lip, and then offered a shrug. Oikawa didn’t buy it.
“What has you on the train tonight?” Tooru asked him, arching an eyebrow. Hinata was on MSBY—based in Osaka, which is where they were headed. But they were a few hours into the ride, and they’d moved past a few stations Hinata could have joined the train on.
“Oh—I’m going to a… celebration of sorts,” Shōyō explained, as if put-off by the reasonable question. “It’s a big deal. Halloween night, you know? I got on from the Nara station—the one by Tōdai-ji.”
“You visited the temple?” Tooru reasoned. Hinata shrugged again.
“Sort of,” he said. Huh… usually the redhead was such an open book. It was weird to see him a bit reserved and awkward. “Did you come down to Miyagi to visit your family? How’d that go?”
And just like that, the tension faded. Oikawa relaxed into a friendly face and familiar presence, and despite the slightly awkward start, Shōyō relaxed too. They swapped updates and stories and Hinata listened happily and intently to all that Tooru had to offer him. They were casual and familiar with each other. The redhead sat as close as he was allowed and Oikawa was just as touchy. Not—in a too-close way, but there was comfort in each other and they were sinking into it. Memories and history between them and softening the atmosphere.
“Ever think about going back to South America? A little Iwa-chan told me that Brazil’s keeping an eye on you even though you’re back here,” he said. The question made Hinata’s eyes flicker with something odd.
“… I’d love to, honestly. I don’t know if that’s… realistic or not anymore,” he admitted. “Just—y’know, things happen and I’m still… catching up with some big changes.”
“Yeah?” Oikawa prodded, his brow furrowing with a little concern. Hinata had been his saving grace. An escape from the homesickness, but also a chance to connect with someone who got it. And the fact that he was very nice to look at and very happy to share Oikawa’s bed during visits was an added bonus. There wasn’t a… label or anything between them. But it was something and it often felt like fate.
Hinata’s mouth wobbled in an upset line. Oikawa wondered what magic lipstick he’d used that kept the color from smudging.
“… I’m glad that I ran into you today, Oikawa-san,” Shōyō said instead of giving him more, the same words he’d offered on that beach in Rio three—nearly four years ago. Both of them laying in the sand and catching their breath after an adrenaline-fueled makeout session and a few lost games at beach volleyball. Tooru’s shoulders softened with the nostalgia and fondness he felt for the man.
“Me too, Shōyō-kun,” he agreed, wiggling an arm behind him to squeeze the redhead to his side. Wow those costume wings were soft, feeling like they were made of real feathers. Hinata asked Oikawa about how he was doing, how long he’d be in Japan for, how his family and teammates were and how life in Argentina was going. In return, Tooru asked about Japan, Shōyō’s family, his own teammates, and then Hajime.
“Iwa-san’s great,” Hinata told him, a proper grin crossing over his face. “He’s such a good trainer and I’ve managed to seduce him into being my friend! We gossip about you.”
“Hey!” Tooru yelped, putting on a pout, though the words made his chest feel warm with delight. “You’re such a meanie. Talking behind my back.”
“All good things!” Hinata giggled, though the glint through his contacts said otherwise. “He’s such a sweetheart. Everyone on MSBY loves him and we’re all really happy to have him. Even if he gets aggressive about making sure that we drink enough water.”
“Iwa-chan’s always been like that. I have a permanent bump on the back of my head from all of the water bottles he’s lobbed at me over the years,” Oikawa snorted. But then he sobered. “I wish I knew what was upsetting him. He’s supposed to tell me when I’m back but I’m worried…”
“You said that he was crying…?” Shōyō asked, another one of those weird looks crossing over his face. He bit his lip, a peek of those little fangs showing through. “If… if it makes you feel better, he’s not sick or anything.”
That did make Oikawa feel better, and he whooshed out a relieved sigh.
“Thank you,” he breathed, and then he frowned at the redhead. “So you do know what’s going on…”
“I have an idea, but I don’t know for sure…” Hinata evaded, avoiding eye contact. Before Tooru could ask more, a pinging noise rang through the car. A moment later and the intercom crackled.
“Due to a blockage on the tracks, the Tōkaidō Shinkansen route has been delayed. We will be moving forward to Tokyo station where staff will hand over bags and vouchers to local hotels and for a new ticket from Tokyo to your original destination for tomorrow at ten in the morning. We are sorry for the inconvenience.”
“Shit,” Tooru groaned, hearing frustrated or surprised exclamations from other passengers mutedly through the walls.
“… I’m getting off at Tokyo,” Shōyō told him, looking up. “Do you want to come to the celebration with me? It might help get your mind off things…” There was something almost… pleading in Hinata’s expression, and Oikawa sensed that maybe the redhead was looking for one good night before tomorrow, too.
Weird. But relatable.
And Oikawa would never turn down a chance to spend more time with Shōyō.
“Alright. I don’t have a costume, though,” he admitted. Hinata offered a grin that looked relieved but giddy all at once.
They got off the train at the Tokyo station together. Tooru brought his overnight bag with him, but noted that Hinata didn’t have one. Oh well, he was probably on a day-trip.
Shōyō found Oikawa’s hand and squeezed it as they walked toward the city’s downtown region. Hinata didn’t look out of place. Sure, Halloween wasn’t as popular in Japan as it was in other countries, but enough people were dressed up for Shōyō to barely catch so much as a second glance, and likely only because his costume was gorgeous. He must have adjusted the wire in his wings, as now they were half-raised, feathers silken and iridescent in the lights of the evening Tokyo city.
Tooru sent a message to Hajime as they walked. Just to make sure that he’d be okay.
Shittykawa : 6:18pm
The train got delayed for the night :(((((
But I ran into a friend and ill be in Osaka by tomorrow!!
Are u okay Haji?
If u need me there Ill buy a plane ticket or a bus ride
Iwaizumi responded quickly. Oikawa couldn’t help the frown on his forehead.
Iwa-chan : 6:19pm
Have fun Tooru
I’ll talk to you tomorrow okay?
6:20pm
Please dont look at the news right now
Like that wasn’t a very concerning thing to read.
Shittykawa : 6:22pm
Ur freaking me out Hajime
Are you really okay?
Iwa-chan : 6:23pm
Ill be alright
Its better to explain in person is all
6:24pm
Just please trust me on this.
Oikawa frowned at his phone.
“Iwa-chan’s being weird,” he said, showing Shōyō the messages. Hinata’s forehead creased and he chewed on his lip. “Anything you want to tell me?” Tooru added. The redhead had a strange expression on his face but he shook his head. Oikawa sighed but repocketed his phone. If Hajime said that he wasn’t going to tell him until he got back, there was nothing that Tooru could do from here to convince him. He was stubborn like that.
“Do you want to stop for food on our way over? I’m not sure what they’ll have at the party,” Shōyō suggested. Ooh, that sounded delightful. Tooru was hungry now that he wasn’t feeling queasy with the train’s movement.
They made their way to a local bakery and Oikawa ordered a bit of milk bread. When he offered to get something for his companion, too, Shōyō just shook his head and assured him that he wasn’t hungry. Which, for Hinata, meant that something was wrong.
When they left the bakery—Oikawa’s bags slung over Hinata’s shoulder—one of the setter’s hands was occupied with one of Shōyō’s and the other his milk bread, Tooru nudged.
“Are you alright, Shōyō-kun?” he inquired. Hinata made a noncommittal humming noise back.
“I’ve had a rather difficult two days,” he admitted. Tooru squeezed his hand because yes, he was a proud asshole but Hinata was his friend. “Hey, Oikawa-san. What do you think the afterlife is like?” he suddenly added. Tooru jumped at the abrupt conversation shift and glanced down worriedly at the redhead.
“Are you sick? Is that what Hajime’s—”
“No, no, I’m not sick,” Shōyō yelped quickly, nearly dropping Oikawa’s bag as he scrambled to assure him. Tooru groaned.
“You freak me out, chibi-chan.”
“But you didn’t answer my question. It’s Halloween! They say the veil is thin this time of year,” Hinata pressed, injecting a little teasing into his voice. Tooru just shrugged.
“I dunno. I don’t believe in ghosts or anything,” he admitted. He tilted his head back and forth. “I don’t like the idea of heaven or hell either. If the christians are right then I’m in big trouble for kissing men.”
“You’ve done a lot more than kissing with me, Oikawa-san,” Shōyō snorted. Tooru stuck out his tongue at him.
“I don’t know, honestly,” Tooru sighed eventually, childishly swinging their entwined hands back and forth, which made Hinata grin at him. His makeup was really very flattering. “I like to think that we go somewhere. It would suck if we all just disappeared or something. Maybe reincarnation…? I like to think that it’s more than just a void or a limbo.”
“Hm,” Hinata agreed, swinging Oikawa’s arm too. He’d gotten his nails done with his costume, cute little black claws and more makeup to blacken his fingers up to his knuckles. Huh, he must have gotten the fancy theater-level stuff. None of it smudged onto Tooru’s hand.
“Do you think it changes depending on how we die?” Shōyō asked next.
“What? Like if you drown you get stuck in the ocean?” Oikawa asked, taking another bite of his milk bread.
“No, like… if you have a good reason to stay, you stay… Not like a ghost, just… not moving on,” Hinata replied. Tooru thought over the idea.
“Like zombies?” he asked. Shōyō snickered.
“Like… spirits. Like—if you die tragically, maybe someone lets you stay a while, or gives you a role so that you get to have purpose for a while longer,” he shrugged.
“That’d be cool. I’d haunt Iwa-chan forever,” Oikawa agreed easily. Hinata giggled.
“Now I’m imagining a spooky ghost but instead of saying ‘boo’ it just says ‘Iwa-chaaaan~!’ forever,” the redhead laughed.
“Guess that I know what I’ll be up to someday,” Tooru decided with a nod. “What would you do?”
“… What?”
“If you get to be a spooky spirit wandering around. What would you do?” the setter asked. It was fair turnaround after all, Shōyō had no right to be staring at him.
“… I think I’d want to protect the people I care about,” he decided. “… Definitely haunt Bakayama a bit. He’s terrified of ghosts.”
“He is?!” Tooru gasped, delighted. “I know what I’ll be next year!”
Hinata laughed again, but this time the sound was a little grating. They had arrived at a rather fancy hotel, and Shōyō walked right inside—past the bellhop—and into the elevator, Oikawa following easily and finishing his second slice of milk bread.
“You should haunt me, too. I’ll get an ouija board and we can gossip,” Tooru suddenly added as the elevator started to move. Hinata snickered.
“Okay, Oikawa-san,” he agreed.
“I’d be so bored and sad without you,” Tooru groaned. Shōyō was quiet again. “You would need to crawl out of the television whenever I get lonely and touch-starved.”
“Wouldn’t that be scary?” Hinata asked, loosening up a little again.
“Only the first time,” Oikawa told him.
The elevator doors opened, and Tooru blinked. Wow there was a Halloween party, and then there was this.
Everyone was wearing costumes to the same level of intricacy as Shōyō. Beautiful silks of every color—Hinata a dark splotch compared to some of the brighter hues. Everyone was wearing them wrong, too. The right side folded over the left. There were a few people out of costume, like Oikawa was, but they were the vast minority.
Everyone was vaguely… animal themed as well. Shōyō was quite obviously a crow, but Tooru also spotted a fox costume—with three enormous, very soft-looking tails and a pair of ears behind their classic kitsune-style mask. A large man wearing an ox-look with a deep blue haori over the top. There was no food being served—so Tooru was grateful for the stop for a snack—but plenty of booze and everyone seemed to be in a good mood, chatting with each other happily.
Hinata, a little nervously, pulled on his crow-skull mask to match the others before he squeezed Oikawa’s hand again. Three steps in and they were already being approached—the fox woman that Tooru had spotted.
“Shōyō! Come inside, dear,” she said, eyes pretty and green behind her mask. “Who’s your guest?”
“This is Tooru. We ran into each other on the train. We run into each other in the strangest places,” Hinata said warmly, if a little anxiously. He let the very tall woman pull him into a hug, her kimono a gorgeous color that matched Shōyō’s hair well with a white underlayer. Her tomesode was layered and—again, folded the wrong way. But the embroidery was delicate and autumnal, and Tooru felt highly underdressed. Oddly, he didn’t recognise anyone present. The masks made it harder, but he felt like Shōyō would normally be present at a party that overlapped with their shared volleyball circles.
“Last time it was on a beach overseas,” Oikawa said, offering the fox-woman a greeting bow of his head.
… Was it just him? Or did those large fox ears atop her head move?
“Welcome to our little get-together,” she said, glancing between him and Hinata. “This is your first time here, isn’t it, Shōyō?” she added.
Hinata nodded, his hand around Tooru’s fingers tense.
“I’m… not in trouble for bringing him, am I?” he asked. Oikawa jumped at the idea. This did seem like an exclusive event—
“Of course not,” fox-lady assured him, voice mellow and soft. Shōyō’s shoulders relaxed. “He made it up the elevator, he’s welcome.”
What?
Hinata seemed a little confused too, but shrugged it off.
“Why don’t I introduce you two to the host?” she suggested. Hinata hadn’t met the host yet? The idea seemed to make him nervous, but the woman was sweet as she offered them both a little bow. “Call me Kitsune. We go by our masks here,” she added.
Weird. But everyone seemed to be having a good time. As they moved through the party, Oikawa spotted groups enjoying light conversation or laughter, and any looks sent their way were surprisingly warm behind the masks mostly everyone was wearing. Anyone out of costume—if they were wearing traditional clothing—were at least wearing their kimonos properly.
Kistune brought them over to a side room. Sitting on a large cushion and surrounded by others with and without masks was a tall, thin person. Another incorrectly worn kimono, but Tooru couldn’t quite identify the style. They were wearing a komainu-style mask, and when they spotted the trio, they waved them inside.
Shōyō was nervous, but the figure was cheerfully urging them closer.
“Hello! Welcome, Shōyō,” they greeted, their voice not helping at all with Oikawa trying to identify them. Their eyes—which Oikawa couldn’t quite make out behind the mask—turned to Tooru. “Ah… my, you’re a special one indeed. Two days in and you’ve found your tether?”
What? Oikawa did not understand these words. Shōyō looked just as confused. Komainu waved their hand around, casual and relaxed.
“We’re happy to have you both here,” Komainu continued, a smile in their voice. “It’s a special night. Have fun and enjoy the company. And Shōyō…”
Hinata shivered under their gaze.
“We’re all looking forward to getting to know you better. Enjoy your night, take your time. You have it,” they added.
Shōyō lowered himself into a surprisingly low bow before he was pulling a very confused Oikawa out of the room.
“Did you join a cult when I wasn’t looking?” Tooru asked suspiciously. Hinata managed a weak laugh.
“Not exactly,” he hedged. Shōyō looked up at him, and Oikawa couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were glassy. “Want to get drunk and make out?”
“Obviously,” Tooru agreed. He wanted to know what was going on, but Hinata was being weird and Hajime was being weird and Oikawa needed to relax before he started to spiral properly.
So, the pair swept into the party.
Two drinks in, and Tooru was actually having a great time. He allowed part of his heart to worry over Hajime, but he also couldn’t exactly help him if he didn’t know what was going on, so he tried to relax into the atmosphere. And the party made it easy. Despite the weird, cultish-masks, everyone was pleasant and friendly. Interested in them and conversing well, asking questions about their careers and who they were as individuals. Drinks were free and delicious, and the music was upbeat but not too loud.
Everyone seemed specifically interested in them. Oikawa lost count of the different masks or faces that approached, asking how they were. They were friendly, but something about their approach seemed gentle. Like they were welcome, but fragile somehow. There were a lot of hugs from strangers, and more than one squeeze that lifted Shōyō’s feet from the floor.
Oikawa found that he was really liking the company. They were all just very… genuine. Maybe it was a side-effect of the masks, but everyone was happy to be themselves and were open with each other. There was dancing and more drinks, and maybe it was the booze, but sometimes Tooru could have sworn that some of the costumes moved on their own.
A cat tail twitched back and forth and curled.
A dove wing twitched and shook off some glitter.
Animal-like ears twitched and moved to catch sound.
It was subtle, but every time Tooru did a double-take, the costumes were still. Maybe it was just the Halloween night playing tricks on his eyes. After a few drinks, Shōyō let himself loose. He seemed eager to make the most out of the night, pulling Oikawa onto the dance floor to cha-cha and samba and sway like they did in Rio. They laughed and twirled and the other party-goers cheered when Tooru wrangled the redhead into an over-dramatic dip.
Maybe it was him, but he could have sworn that Hinata’s iridescent black wings fluttered with the movement. He was having too much fun to really worry about it. He needed to get out of his head, out of his worries, and enjoy Hinata and tonight to the fullest.
Oikawa got the feeling that everyone else at the party knew each other well—like he and Shōyō were the only newcomers—but that wasn’t a bad thing. Hinata was occasionally dragged away for short moments for big hugs and cheerful welcomes and softer words that sounded like offers of comfort. In return, the others out-of-masks approached Tooru, welcoming him and while there was something odd about some of the looks they gave him, they were friendly and offered him more drinks and jokes and stories.
Of course, it wasn’t a good party without a drunken make-out session in the corner. Some time after Oikawa and Shōyō did body shots off a person who had a suspicious number of realistic looking scales as the party’s intensity grew, they found a quiet spot, giggling and tipsy and grinning at each other. After the night had closed in completely, a change had happened with everyone. Bodies were swaying and conversation turned to louder, more drunken voices. Not sloppy or dangerous-feeling, Tooru didn’t see any sign of substances other than alcohol, but it was clear that everyone wanted to let loose.
Hinata let Oikawa crowd him against a corner—another couple, one dressed like a crane, another dressed as a wolf—hand in hand and interrupting for a moment before they giggled out apologies and found somewhere else. Shōyō was just as determined and eager and warm as he remembered, if not more so. The costume claws must have been acrylic or super-glued on, as they didn’t give when Shōyō ran his fingers down Tooru’s back as he encouraged every kiss. The fangs had to be quite strong, too. Oikawa could press his tongue to them and they didn’t so much as wiggle.
Weird, but some people got intense about Halloween.
Still. The strange blend of confusion and comfort and worry and something subconsciously desperate had the pair growing heated quickly. Hickeys were swapped and hands groped over clothes, and Oikawa was very glad that he’d happened to tempt fate enough for it to grant him the moment of running into Shōyō on the train. Just as he had on the beach in Rio.
Something about Hinata had always felt like fate.
“Any chance that there’s a private room we can sneak into?” Tooru murmured, voice not quite slurred but with that giggly edge that he always got to his words when he was tipsy. Shōyō attached his fangs to Oikawa’s ear in agreement.
“They gave me a room,” he whispered back, voice a little breathless. Tooru kissed more delight into Hinata’s jaw—it was sort of hard to kiss him with the mask on, but if he angled his head right they managed.
Shōyō led the way again, hand around Oikawa’s wrist as he dragged him out of the party to friendly cheers and jeering and a few wolf-whistles. Tooru would have to ask Hinata to pass along some numbers, these people were fun.
Hinata’s room was… themed. To match his costume. All black silk and crows and wings and feathers. But Tooru didn’t care much about the room, he just wanted to fall back into this redhead’s arms. Shōyō had been the one to hold him when his heart was hurting with homesickness and loneliness. He was the one to melt into his arms and soothe years of being touch-starved and missing companionship. Someone close enough to call at ungodly hours just to talk, or go out of the way to visit during off-seasons.
Oikawa didn’t have words for Hinata Shōyō. Couldn’t quite put a label on what they were or how he felt for him. Too close to be friends, and yet too separate to allow themselves to be lovers. Shōyō felt kindred. A twin flame. Too similar, too different, too much, not enough.
Hinata let Oikawa smother him into the bed, taking a moment just to lay his full weight on top of Shōyō in a way that he knew that the redhead liked, just breathing together. The redhead smelled like freshly turned earth and like incense over his usual citrus-y and cedar body wash. Not completely familiar but still comforting.
Shōyō was practically purring under his limp weight, rubbing familiar patterns with unfamiliar claws over Oikawa’s back, breathing with him. Tooru pulled the redhead’s mask off to kiss him properly, and Hinata hummed and leaned into it.
Wow, his makeup was even kiss proof.
“What are the odds that we keep running into each other?” Tooru breathed when he pulled back for air. Shōyō’s eyes were dilated in the dim room, staring up at him, a flush on his cheekbones under the paleness set into him. “I feel like the universe is trying to tell us something.”
“… Maybe it is,” Hinata murmured, but his eyes looked misty again. He breathed twice, slowly and unsure. “Oikawa-san, can I be selfish tonight?” he whispered.
Tooru pulled back a little to look him in the eye.
“I’m pinning you to the bed, Shōyō-kun,” he reminded him. “And I told you, call me Tooru,” he added, pressing a kiss to Hinata’s jaw. The redhead leaned into the touch, offering Oikawa more of his neck.
“Can you… can you act like you love me? Just for one night?” Hinata whispered. Now that made Tooru really look at him. He had a choice to make here. He loved Shōyō. What kind of love it was, that was hard to say. It was the easy kind of love. The one that made him warm and happy, the kind that didn’t make him ache and hurt or pine, because he always knew that Hinata would be there and ready for him.
Was Shōyō really asking to be selfish? Or was Oikawa the selfish one for never having told him how much he cared?
“I do love you, Shōyō,” Tooru told him, pressing his hand to Hinata’s chest over his heart. The redhead’s eyes welled up as he leaned up to kiss him.
“Thank you,” he breathed. Tooru grunted.
“No, I do love you. Stupid chibi-chan. No acting involved,” he complained. Hinata pulled back a little, biting at his lip.
“Then that makes me even more selfish,” he told him. Oikawa was so done with all of the mysticism recently. So he bit Hinata’s lower lip with a displeased grumble and tried to prove himself with actions instead. Shōyō squirmed for all but a moment before he stopped trying to fight it, melting into the kisses as Tooru explored his fangs with his tongue, finding it curious that there were no seams to indicate where they were attached to his canines.
Shōyō offered a low noise into his mouth, and Oikawa—who was already a little closer to tipsy than sober—clumsily tried to open the man’s belt. It took a few tries as he didn’t want to pull away from Hinata’s mouth for any longer than to gasp in a quick breath. Hinata was more than just… a person to seek out when he was lonely. Shōyō was probably the sole reason that Tooru still enjoyed volleyball, having helped him find the joy in it again when he’d been stuck on a plateau.
Eventually, Oikawa opened the haori and pulled Shōyō out of it, throwing the likely very-expensive garment off the bed with enough of a casual demeanor to make Hinata snort. Tooru made quick work of the hakama, opening the ribbons that held it up along with the belt. When he pulled Shōyō’s legs free, however, he paused.
More… costume? From below the knee downward, Hinata’s legs were scattered with the rounded, birdlike-scales that crows wore on their legs. Maybe they were just… really weird shoes? Because Oikawa hadn’t been able to see what he’d been wearing under the long layer, and Shōyō’s feet were looking more like a bird’s than a person’s.
Oh well.
Tooru latched his teeth into Hinata’s neck, finding that he felt just as selfish as he licked and sucked and pulled bruises to the surface. Because he couldn’t give himself completely to Shōyō. Not yet. Not until their careers were over. After this visit, he’d return to Argentina, and the most they would see of each other was through the phone or during visits. He could never publicly declare himself Hinata’s partner—a large reason as to why Tooru had not initiated a relationship. It just wasn’t fair. Not to either of them.
It still felt cruel. To take comfort from this man without being able to offer anything more than comfort in return.
Hinata was tugging Tooru’s shirt off, wearing only his nagagi now. There were slits in the sides up to his hips, which did allow for more movement and allowed Oikawa to slip his hand underneath to grab at him. Shōyō—lips still against Tooru’s like he’d rather kiss him than breathe—grunted in reply and got to work on Oikawa’s pants next.
Finally, Tooru managed to work off the last two layers, tugging them free, and… then he stopped.
No straps. He’d assumed that the straps keeping the man’s decorative wings and crow-like tail were either attached to the nagagi or underneath, but the black feathers were still there, clothes now gone, and no straps, harnesses, or ties to be seen.
Hmm.
Tooru looked a little closer. More of those rounded little scales decorated Shōyō’s hips—spots where they didn’t make sense to be with the rest of his costume covering them up. There were tiny little feathers sticking up around his collar and shoulders, more of that matte black pigment streaking in feather-like patterns underneath.
Curious, and maybe still a bit intoxicated, Tooru brushed his finger along the feathers on his shoulders. The tiny little silky protrusions flexed under his touch like whiskers.
Hmm.
Shōyō was watching him, shivering under the touch. This was weird. And Tooru might freak out a tiny bit, but he… wanted to see first. Wanted to be sure.
Oikawa pulled Hinata into a seated position, their legs tangled together, the scales on Shōyō’s legs feeling all too real. The wings moved with him, limp but not limp enough to convince Oikawa that they were part of a costume anymore.
Gingerly, curiously, Tooru took one of the larger wings into his hand, tugging it into view. Hinata made a soft noise in his throat, his flush tripling over his face. Oikawa tested the joint, the way it moved, the way that there was warmth underneath those feathers that felt very, very real. Softer than they looked, and shimmering in the low light of the hotel room.
Oikawa pulled Hinata closer, tucking his chin onto his shoulder to get a better look at his back. Damn, they were really attached to him. Little feathers stuck up between the two little pairs of wings. The larger set were about the size of a typical pair of costume-wings, the smaller ones the size of actual crow-wings. They melded into the plume of feathers that sat just above his tailbone.
Tooru, more curious and amazed than frightened, touched where the wings extended from Shōyō’s back, where skin met feathers. Hinata jolted, the wings immediately coming to life and flexing as he made a soft, mostly-embarrassed sound in his throat.
Hmm. That was interesting. The more sober part of Oikawa’s brain was going ‘huh, I should probably ask about what the fuck is going on here,’ and the inebriated part of him was more focused on that little sound that Shōyō had made when he’d pressed his fingers there.
The inebriated part won.
Enthralled, amazed, and wondering if one of his drinks had been spiked, Oikawa dug his fingers into the undersides of the wings, moving from his ribs—which had more little feathers on them—to where the secondary feathers lay. Hinata’s back arched, his claws digging into Tooru’s back as he hissed out a gasp and squirmed.
Okay. Tooru was convinced. These impossible wings were great, actually. He could ask about them in the morning.
“Tooru—” Shōyō started, his tone suggesting that he might try to convince him that he was hallucinating. Oikawa kissed him to shut him up and ran his fingers through those spider-silk-soft feathers. Hinata shuddered again, a breathy little whine in his throat that was muffled into Tooru’s mouth.
Hinata was selfish for not warning him about the fucking wings—and now Tooru was wondering if the fangs and claws were real, too. Oikawa was being selfish by treating Shōyō like the lover he wanted him to be, even though he knew that come tomorrow they’d have to separate again. Friends who loved each other too much. A lover that Tooru left waiting for him.
Wow, the wings were fun, though. The jittery little movements they made when Shōyō let out a little whine or moan were delightful. Oikawa didn’t know much about birds, but did know that you weren’t supposed to touch their wings because it got them agitated. Hinata was agitated alright, squirming and shuffling and the muscles in his back flexing when Tooru found a good spot to tease. The gentlest of tugging on those feathers—though Oikawa was careful not to rip any out—made Shōyō shudder in the best way and bite and nibble at Tooru’s shoulder, panting heavily and flushed all over.
Maybe it was a Halloween thing? These had definitely not been there before, and Oikawa wasn’t sure if he wanted to pout about it or not. Maybe this was what Hinata had been referencing about recent changes? Because if Shōyō had kept these a secret Tooru would pout about it indefinitely. Well—for as long as he wasn’t touching them. Hinata squirming and his hands fumbling to hold on as Oikawa rubbed and pressed at the flesh underneath the feathers was far too much fun to let go of.
“You’re—fuck, Tooru, stop teasing me,” Hinata complained with an unhappy but slurred-with-pleasure growl. A sound that vibrated in his throat like the growls that real crows could pull off.
“You have wings, I’m going to touch them,” Tooru complained mulishly, tugging on the appendages to make Hinata’s back arch and a hiss rise up from his ribs. The feathers fluffed, flexing and rattling with a strange sound.
“Why am I in love with you again?” Hinata complained in a drawl, but it was a surprisingly raw comment that made Tooru’s chest twinge with fondness and bittersweet guilt at the same time.
“Because I’m pretty and charming?” Oikawa suggested. Shōyō snorted and rolled his eyes, before he leaned forward to lick up Tooru’s throat, gaining a little more control that Tooru quickly tried to overpower, tugging on the man’s feathers to make him cringe and gasp. And when Oikawa found a spot—a bit under the joint where the wings protruded from his back—and pressed his thumbs in, Shōyō let out a cry of a moan, body jolting with the pressure.
Tooru licked his lips, already forgiving Hinata for anything he could have ever done wrong in his life.
Oikawa was growing impatient. He knew that he was a selfish man, but tonight he didn’t care. He ignored the worries and wonderings about what the hell was going on and left those for tomorrow. Maybe it was because it was Halloween, maybe it was just Shōyō himself. But he kissed down Hinata’s throat and smoothed his hands down to play with the smaller set of wings and then tentatively pressed where the tailfeathers spread out from his tailbone.
Shōyō offered another one of those very encouraging shudders, and Tooru hummed, pleased and a little too much in love to be letting himself do this. He didn’t stop anyway. He spread the redhead’s legs and then far too late realized that they did not have supplies for this.
“Drawer,” Hinata mumbled into his mouth, waving his hand toward the nightstand.
The drawer opened on its own. Tooru glared at it before deciding that he was going to think with his cock tonight and worry about the details later. He rummaged until he found some condoms and lube packets, using one of the former to spread over his fingers and ripping one of the latter open with his teeth.
Shōyō moved for him, on his lap and marking bites and kisses and mumbling soft words and this little crooning noise that was very not-human like, but still sort of cute all the same. Would Tooru be absolutely freaking the fuck out if he was sober? Yes. Was he sober? Nope.
Tomorrow. Everything would be explained tomorrow. The wings, the cult-thing going on, why Hajime was so upset and why Oikawa was apparently banned from looking at the news or reading messages. Tonight he could love Hinata as much as he wanted, as much as Shōyō had asked for, and the ramifications would wait for sunrise.
Still curious, and always cheeky, Oikawa rubbed the spot between Hinata’s opening and where his tailfeathers were with his thumb as he stretched him open, which earned himself a lot of squirming and some oversensitive bites of complaint over the setter’s shoulders. Tooru welcomed every pinch of fang, finding that it made sparks zing down his body and his stomach squirm. He should probably be a lot more scared than he was, but Shōyō seemed twice as scared as Oikawa could manage to be. He kept shaking and shivering and pressing almost desperate kisses to Tooru’s face and throat and chest, his trembling, clawed fingers trying to memorise every inch of the setter.
“I’m going to miss you,” Shōyō gasped into his throat, his hips occasionally offering a squirm as Oikawa stretched him to make sure that he was comfortable for anything more. The way that his tail-feathers shook and fanned out when Tooru rubbed his prostate was lovely to watch.
“I’ll always visit you, Shōyō,” Oikawa reminded him. “I’m making better money, I’ll be able to come here more often. I’m planning on staying for the entire off-season next year,” he promised.
Hinata hid his face into the crook of Tooru’s neck and just nodded.
“I fell in love with you in Rio,” he whispered like it was a secret. Oikawa’s eyes stung.
“Me too.”
“We wasted time,” Hinata added, pressing a constellation of kisses that smelled of salt and almost stung down Oikawa’s neck. “… I wish I told you then.”
“We have time,” Oikawa said, his voice coming out a little desperate. “We’ll have time.”
Shōyō was silent for a moment.
“Okay, Tooru,” he whispered.
Oikawa, desperate to prove that he was worth waiting for, that he would wait for Shōyō forever if he would ask him, that maybe—maybe if they were willing, they could try the long-distance thing properly. That Tooru would give him his heart if he asked him for it. The setter kissed him hard, pulling his fingers out and flicking the condom somewhere into the dark so that he could hold him. He splayed his palms over Hinata’s ribs, trying to steal his warmth and give him some of his own as he kissed him the way only lovers could.
Shōyō shook, kissing back just as desperately, making a soft, bird-like croon into Oikawa’s tongue, his face wet but that ‘makeup’ never running or smudging. They never pulled apart as Tooru lifted Hinata’s hips enough to align him, hoping that somehow they could press every missed night, every bit of pining and hope and heartbreak into tonight.
They groaned together, never pulling their faces apart as Oikawa pulled Shōyō down to sit on his cock. The redhead’s newly-aquired—probably—wings fluttered and shook with the intrusion. Tooru was tender with him, trying to make up for his selfishness as he gave in to Hinata’s arms. He could feel feathers brushing his ribs, and sensed Shōyō hold him even closer with the wings, the smaller set ticking Tooru’s thighs where they twitched.
“Do you—hah—want to take the train with me into Osaka tomorrow?” Oikawa suggested, not wanting this night to end. “We can get a private car and be all gross and in love with each other the whole way.”
Shōyō laughed, the sound wet and shaky.
“I… won’t be going to Osaka tomorrow,” he explained, kissing Tooru’s lips so gently. “Stay with me tonight and then go in the morning…” he pleaded.
“Okay,” Tooru promised, a little disappointed, but maybe Shōyō had things to do in Tokyo and would come later. It was about to be the off-season for MSBY, too, and it was a Friday night. Maybe he would hang out with his little—if very friendly—cult over the weekend. But Tooru would be in Japan for at least three weeks, he’d have time to put together something nice for this man who had crawled into his heart. Maybe he’d be a little shit and take him to a stupidly fancy restaurant and make a big deal of it all. Hinata would scowl at him but he’d secretly like it.
They were slow at first. Tooru tugged at feathers and rubbed over flesh, tender and adoring and clinging to the hope that if fate brought them together twice, then maybe it would continue to do so until they never had to separate again. Shōyō rolled with every movement, the both of them gasping softly into the other’s mouth. Oikawa had so many questions, but none were about Hinata’s feelings for him.
Tooru knew. He could feel it in every too-gentle drag of his claws or little fangs. Knew it in the ticklish way those wings cradled him closer, the happy little wiggle of his tail feathers when Oikawa managed to kiss him just right.
Tooru hoped that Hinata knew it too. That when Oikawa rubbed his palms over feathers or squeezed his hips to move their bodies together or pulled his tongue between his teeth that he was loving him every moment. That as they became more desperate, sloppier with their kisses and their movements, the heat coiling between them and sharpening their senses, that Tooru loved him more than he should have ever allowed himself to.
“You make me happy,” Oikawa told him, panting heavily into Hinata’s shoulder as he fought to be tender with his rhythm. Shōyō offered a low sound back.
“You make me feel alive,” he murmured back.
“Can I be selfish too?” Tooru asked, holding him close as he rolled his hips up again, enamoured and bewitched and completely and happily under this impossible man’s thrall. Hinata hissed a pleased gasp through his teeth before he was able to nod into Oikawa’s shoulder. “Will you stay with me? Even—even though I—”
“Always,” Hinata promised, voice so soft and wet with tears. Oikawa squeezed him to his chest, rocking back and forth together, Shōyō pressing the most tender of kisses to the hollow of his throat. “Don’t forget me when you go.”
“Never,” Tooru promised, and then they were moving together again and it didn’t take long for their trembles to become shakes and their slowly built-up pleasure to peak, never separating, never pulling back even when Shōyō was vibrating and Oikawa was dizzy with being more focused on kissing this man who had become so much a part of him.
Their hands roved over each other all night. When they were resting, Hinata’s wing was draped over Oikawa’s ribs, Tooru’s hands teasing Shōyō’s feathers until he was squirming and grumbling at him, though he never told him to stop. Sometimes Hinata would rest his ear over Oikawa’s heart, listening to his pulse and purring like a crow might. They were both selfish. Oikawa did not let Shōyō’s fingers anywhere near his asshole when he had those claws, but did open himself up for him to worm his way inside. And watching Hinata’s wings flap like he was trying to take off when he came inside of him was an image Tooru never wanted to forget.
Exhausted—despite Tooru having had a good amount of adrenaline pushed through him from the slow but tender and delightful little marathon they’d fallen into, his body had not forgotten the past three days of mostly-traveling—they held each other close. Oikawa pulled the blankets up to cover them both. Legs tangled together and Shōyō’s wing over his hip.
Hinata’s eyes were glowing softly in the dark as he watched Tooru fight to keep his eyes open any longer. Shōyō, as gentle as could be, ran his claws through Oikawa’s hair.
“I hope you can forgive me,” the redhead murmured.
“F’r what?” Oikawa mumbled sleepily. “Loving me back?”
“… Yes,” Hinata admitted. Tooru kissed his swollen lip.
“Can you forgive me for being slow and stupid and not being with you sooner?” Oikawa asked. Hinata was quiet for a while.
“Maybe,” he answered. Huh. Tooru wiggled Shōyō closer, until he was cuddling him like he was an oversized, feathery teddy bear. His wings were all mussed and messy from all they’d been doing, and Oikawa absent-mindedly smoothed the feathers back into place.
“I’ll love you forever though. Forgive me then?” the setter asked. Shōyō traced patterns over Oikawa’s ribs.
“Okay.”
When Tooru woke up, he was severely pissed off. Shōyō had made like a one night stand and made himself scarce. He did leave a feather—one of his prettiest ones, longer than Oikawa’s hand—on the bed with a note.
I’m sorry.
That little—
Tooru tried to call Hinata first. He did not pick up. He didn’t respond to Tooru’s irritated barrage of text messages either. He told himself that maybe Shōyō was busy, but part of him was scared that Shōyō was going to leave him. Tired of waiting and wanting one night to hold him close before disappearing from his life.
Grumpy and hurt, Oikawa got onto the train—barely making it in time—and pouted the whole way to Osaka. Ooh, he was going to absolutely tear Hinata a new one when he caught that stupid, adorable, little fucker—
Tooru’s heart dropped when he got off the train. Hajime was waiting for him, and maybe it was just Oikawa, but he somehow looked worse than before. Tooru rubbed the feather in his pocket for comfort before he set his bags aside and wrapped Iwaizumi into a close embrace. Hajime felt like he crumpled, shaking all over, his head tucked into Oikawa’s shoulder as he fought back a sob.
“God, Hajime… What happened?” he breathed, rubbing his best friend’s shoulders. Hajime let out a sob and just squeezed Tooru closer.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Tooru,” he cried. Oikawa’s heart sank into a brick in his stomach. Something was a lot more wrong than he’d expected.
“It’s going to be okay, Hajime…” he whispered, even though he didn’t truly know that. Iwaizumi just shook his head.
“I didn’t know how to tell you. It’s—fuck, it’s really bad, Tooru…” he sniffled. Oikawa felt like he was shaking. He could count the number of times Hajime broke down like this on one hand, and none of them compared to this. “It’s—it’s—fuck, just… just come here, we’ll… I’ll explain it. Makki n’ Matsun are here, too.”
They were in Osaka? Why? It couldn’t be for anything good. Normally, Tooru would have assumed it was to see him, but there was something so, completely off about this. Despite Hajime leading the way from the station to his apartment, Tooru felt like he was keeping Iwaizumi from toppling over. He’d calmed a little, but looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
Oikawa felt like he was walking toward his own execution as they got up the stairs to Hajime’s apartment. Instead of feeling familiar and warm, the space felt like ice. Hanamaki and Matsukawa sprung up from the couch. Takahiro’s eyes were red-rimmed and Issei looked drained as they rushed over.
“Did you tell him yet?” Hanamaki asked. Hajime just shook his head.
“Tell me what?” Oikawa asked, starting to panic in earnest. The trio glanced at each other and Iwaizumi was covering his mouth like he was nauseous. “Tell me what?”
“You’re gonna want to sit down,” Hanamaki said, tugging on Tooru’s arm. Oh no. No, people only said that when someone was dead. Or hurt. Or sick. Or—
“Please tell me what’s going on,” Tooru pleaded, but let the pair bring Hajime and Oikawa over to the couch. Matsukawa took Tooru’s bag from his white-knuckled hand and set it aside. Iwaizumi squeezed Tooru’s knee, and he looked absolutely wrecked. His eyes were still wet and given his hair he probably hadn’t showered in a day or two either. Maybe he’d even lost weight—
“Are you sick?” Tooru worried, despite Shōyō’s assurances. Iwaizumi shook his head.
“No, it’s… it’s not me, Tooru,” Hajime said, voice too gentle to mean anything but very bad news. “I… I didn’t want to tell you when you’d just gotten off the plane, and—and I wanted you to have a good day with your family first, but I probably should have told you right away and—”
“Tell me what?!” Oikawa said loudly, not quite yelling but on the verge of freaking the fuck out even though he didn’t know what was wrong. His heart was aching and there was a horrible feeling in his stomach.
“When…” Hajime gulped and didn’t continue. Hanamaki brought a chair over and sat on it, facing the pair.
“When you—not long after you got on the plane from San Juan… um…” Takahiro’s mouth formed a line, eyes welling up. “Tooru, I’m so sorry.”
“What—tell me what—why are you sorry?!” Oikawa hissed, his heart racing and his eyes feeling like they were stinging. His family was alright—so was Hajime’s. Was it one of their friends from high school? One of their teammates? Their juniors?
“Hinata’s dead,” Matsukawa croaked.
Tooru’s heart stopped for a full second, and he blinked hard. But he’d—he’d just—
“What?” he echoed. Iwaizumi’s shoulder shuddered with a sob.
“Hajime found him…” Issei continued, his voice wavering but pushing onward. “The police won’t tell us much, but… but he was murdered. We tried to call you right after the news broke but you were still in the air, and…”
Oikawa did not know what the fuck was going on, what he was feeling, or what to do with his hands. He opted to squeeze and unsqueeze them, digging his fingernails into his palms to test to see if this was just some really fucked up nightmare. His ears were ringing and he felt nauseous.
“No, he’s… Shōyō’s not dead…” he mumbled.
“I’m sorry, Tooru… but—but they’ll catch the guy. Daichi’s got three different police forces mobilized and he’s added himself to the case, and—” Hanamaki rambled, shaking all over. Oikawa shook his head, nervous, terrified laughter rattling in his throat.
“No, he’s—this isn’t a funny prank, Halloween was yesterday—” he tried. Iwaizumi’s whole body shook with another sob. No. Hajime wouldn’t—
Tooru scrambled for his phone, and the trio tried to stop him, but the moment Oikawa opened the news app his stomach gave way.
Rising Volleyball Star Hinata Shōyō Murdered At Twenty-Five
MSBY Player Murdered The Night Before Halloween
Hinata Shōyō Dead At Twenty-Five
Who Murdered Ninja Shōyō? Japan And Brazil Want To Know
Everything We Know So Far About The Murder of Hinata Shōyō
“What… what is this…?” Oikawa breathed, shaking all over. His vision was swimming and he felt like he might pass out, throw up, or laugh nervously again. “He’s not—Shōyō’s not—”
“I know you loved him, Tooru, I’m so sorry,” Hajime sobbed again. This time, Oikawa could recognise it. The grief in his shoulders, heavy and sharp. Hinata was Iwaizumi’s friend, and one of the very, very few who knew how much Oikawa loved the redhead, but—
One of the articles had a picture—
“Kawa, don’t—” Hanamaki hissed, trying to take the phone from him. Oikawa wrestled it back. This didn’t make sense. He had to know, he had to be sure—
Most of the article’s picture was blurred out. Tooru could see the lines of the MSBY gym’s floor. Most of the blur-pixels were red. Most of Shōyō’s face was cut out, but those were Hinata’s soft orange curls spread out in a halo around his head, spattered with red.
“No, no, he’s not—Shōyō’s not—”
“Tooru, I’m so sorry,” Matsukawa breathed. Oikawa threw his phone to the side, shaking all over as he ran his fingers through his hair.
“No, he’s not—I—he’s not—” He knew that this wasn’t some prank, that his friends would never do this to him if it wasn’t the truth, but Oikawa had seen Shōyō. Kissed him, loved him. Held him close and whispered a confession of absolute love into his ear last night.
The night after Hinata had been—had been—
Oikawa’s legs were stumbly and numb as he rushed for the restroom, falling over the toilet as he heaved out the complimentary breakfast he’d had on the train, eyes spilling over. No, he’s—his Shōyō couldn’t be dead. He wasn’t—he’d seen him last night!
His friends entered the room after him. Hajime tucked his head in the space between Oikawa’s shoulders and held him while Hanamaki kept Tooru’s hair out of his eyes as he sobbed and choked out mouthfuls of bile. It just—nothing made sense. It had been Shōyō last night, it couldn’t have been anyone else. He could still smell Hinata on his clothes. He wasn’t dead last night—!
Tooru threw up again, sobbing, his whole body wracked with grief. It wasn’t right. This was wrong. Everyone else was just confused and this was some horrible nightmare—
Oikawa sobbed until his throat was raw. Matsukawa brought over some water, but the thought of putting anything in his stomach made Tooru retch again.
“He’s not dead,” Oikawa cried, shaking his head in adamant denial.
“I’m sorry, Tooru,” Iwaizumi breathed. “If I’d just have gotten there sooner, it—”
“No, he’s—he’s not, I saw him last night!” Oikawa argued, forcing his head away from the toilet bowl, tears streaking down his face.
“What?” Matsukawa echoed, confused.
“That’s—he’s who I ran into on the train! He’s—he can’t be dead, Hajime, I spent the whole night with him!” Tooru insisted, rubbing furiously at his face, shaking all over. “He’s not—he can’t be—”
I’m sorry.
Oh god.
What do you think the afterlife is like?
Please let this be a nightmare.
The way that Shōyō had known what was wrong, what Tooru didn’t know—
No, no—this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. They’d finally figured things out between them, they were finally risking it to try to remain together even through long-distance and secrets and—
We wasted time. I wish I’d told you then.
I should have told you.
I hope you can forgive me.
Don’t be dead.
I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry, Shōyō.
Oikawa was a wreck. He moved between absolute denial and sobbing his eyes out. Only Hajime knew what to do with him, and they held each other through every wave of grief. The others—even Hajime—assumed that Tooru had either had a dream, or had assumed that someone else was Shōyō.
Tooru knew better. The note—and the feather—remained real. Iwaizumi didn’t question why Oikawa held onto them, didn’t ask to read the note, didn’t push. Just soothed every wave of tears and every shaken out sob. Every sleepless night. Every trip to the bathroom to puke his guts when he was struck with enough grief that his body couldn’t take it.
They probably thought that Tooru had gone a little nuts, or was handling his grief in a strange way when Oikawa went ahead and bought that fucking ouija board. He hadn’t tried to use it yet, still lost in confusion and upset and feeling sick.
Hinata’s funeral was packed. Shōyō had affected so many people, had lifted and inspired so many, and yet the redhead had picked Tooru somewhere along the way. Oikawa had run out of tears by the time they held it. Closed-casket. Oikawa didn’t want to know and yet he needed to. They still hadn’t caught the guy. Rumors and comparisons to other, similar killings over the past ten months—all redheads—suggested a serial killer.
Tooru wanted to find him and wring his neck himself.
There was news coverage—Daichi chased the cameras out with a furious series of shouts and a flash of his badge.
Shōyō’s family were there. Oikawa couldn’t bear to look at them. Natsu’s ginger hair made him want to hurl again.
There was supposed to be a dinner in a few days. Something more of a celebration of life than a concave of grief. Tooru didn’t want to go, but he had to. He stood there and wondered if anyone else knew what he and Shōyō shared. If anyone else had loved him as much as he had. He wouldn’t be surprised, Hinata was very easy to love.
Oikawa wished that he’d told him so, years ago. Maybe then he wouldn’t be aching all over with regret. Part of him was glad that he and Hinata—who had been dead—had shared that night. Part of him hated him for it.
He forgave him anyway.
It was three days after the funeral. Many had lingered in Miyagi. Toasting their friend and teammate and companion. Kageyama had flown in from Italy. Everyone from MSBY and some of Shōyō’s friends from Brazil had all come out to visit. The atmosphere was bleak but there were notes of something softer. Bokuto—through big sobs—told all of his favorite stories of his friend. Ukai quietly admitted that he’d considered Shōyō a son. Oikawa hated every moment.
This was not supposed to happen. This was not how it was supposed to go.
Oikawa had to step out, Hajime followed him. Iwaizumi had been a wreck all his own over the past week. Guilty and haunted by whatever state Shōyō had been in when he’d found him. He refused to talk about details. Oikawa couldn’t bring himself to ask.
They sat in the cold, early-November weather, their breaths forming clouds between them. Tooru barely felt the cold. He was shivering anyway.
“Did you really see him?” Hajime whispered. Oikawa breathed three more times before he could respond. The feather and the note were still in his pocket.
“Yeah.”
“… I believe you,” Iwaizumi decided. Tooru just closed his eyes. “I hope they catch the guy—”
A shrill scream rang in the dark. Oikawa and Hajime were on their way in an instant, and the setter’s heart stuttered at the sight. Natsu was staring up at a hooded figure—she must have needed some air too—and the man front of her was brandishing a knife—
Oikawa felt the feather in his pocket jump, and even as Hajime let out a roar and bolted forward, Tooru at his heels, his own heart jumped with it.
The figure brought the knife down, but another, smaller figure leapt out of Tooru’s shadow. Literally. He melted out of the dark cast by the lights outside the venue.
Shōyō, crow mask glittering in the dark, pounced.
Natsu, heaving for breath but not injured, slid down the wall as Hinata, snarling like a beast, tackled the figure into the grass, the pair rolling down the hill. Iwaizumi got to Natsu and planted himself in front of her, clearly not having recognized the figure yet. Oikawa was already running, screaming toward the venue for Daichi and his fucking gun.
The officer burst out of the venue, spotted Tooru and a masked person wrestling a man with a knife to the ground, Natsu shaking all over behind a wide-eyed Hajime, and moved.
“Stay back!” he bellowed over his shoulder and pounced. In ten seconds, the officer managed to show off a little brutality in kicking the killer’s face three times with his boot before planting another one on his ribs to subdue him before he was wrangling him into handcuffs, punching him until he went limp, spitting with rage.
The moment that he was down, Oikawa lunged, yanking Shōyō to his chest and sobbing into his shoulder. Hinata was sniffling sorries into his ear and hugged him back.
“Thank you for the assist,” Daichi panted, still pinning the man down and looked like he was fighting the urge to hit him again. “You—”
Sawamura went very still. Tooru—uncaring—had ripped off Hinata’s mask and kissed him hard. Shōyō kissed back, and he felt so much colder than that night, but he was here and he wasn’t alive but he wasn’t gone—
“… Hinata?” Daichi breathed. There was a blur of orange and Natsu had escaped Iwaizumi’s protection and had pounced onto her brother. Tooru—instead of letting go of Shōyō—just held them both.
“I’m going to kill you for a second time!” Oikawa bellowed, once Natsu had pulled away to stare at her weeping older brother.
Shōyō glared at him.
“How dare you?! I—how fucking dare you!” Oikawa bellowed, grabbing Shōyō’s hair and shaking him around. Daichi looked like he was going to pass out. Shōyō was still holding Natsu to his chest and now looked suspiciously close to pouting. “You leave me with a feather and an I’m sorry?! You will be fucking sorry when I’m done with you—”
“Oh my god,” Iwaizumi breathed.
“Don’t be mean to me, I was murdered,” Shōyō half-grumbled.
Tooru shook him again, growling and furious and crying. Hinata’s lip wobbled.
“Fuck you, you little—” Tooru shut himself up by kissing Shōyō again, and Hinata’s clawed hand was already on the back of Oikawa’s neck as he returned it.
“Sorry I died,” the redhead mumbled.
“Fuck you,” Tooru snapped, before he was kissing him again.
“… We buried you,” Daichi breathed, dangerously pale. “We—you’re…”
“Dead as a doornail,” Hinata agreed. Oikawa grabbed his wing and ripped out a few feathers, making Shōyō screech and snap his teeth at him. “Hey!”
“Why didn’t you come back?!” Tooru snapped. “You’re here, you were here on Halloween, you can clearly show up again! What? Have you just been watching everyone cry their fucking eyes out over you—?!”
“I couldn’t!” Shōyō yelped, still hugging his sister as Oikawa hugged them both—when he wasn’t yanking on Hinata’s hair. “I can’t do this all the time! I just—I pushed through because if I didn’t then Natsu was gonna—” he was crying, and Tooru stopped yanking at him. Shōyō broke down, cradling a wailing Natsu to his chest. “I don’t—I’m barely able to stay physical right now,” he continued.
Hajime, who was shaking like a newborn deer, had made his way over.
“Hinata?” he called. Shōyō lifted his head. Iwaizumi broke down, falling to his knees, and Shōyō spared an arm to pull the trainer in close, one of his wings patting his back.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Shōyō—” he sobbed. “I should have gotten there sooner, I—”
“I was already gone by then,” Hinata told him, voice soft.
“I should have—”
“I’m okay… well, as okay as a dead guy can be,” Shōyō promised, wrinkling his nose and then cringing when Natsu cried harder. “I’m sticking around. I… probably won’t be able to show up like this much, but… on Halloween the veil is so thin I can just step through, and…” the redhead worried his mouth into a line. “And I’ll stay. None of you—none of you will have to go through what I did. I promise.”
Tooru didn’t want that. He just wanted Shōyō to be alive.
“Don’t go,” he whined into his shoulder. “You can’t go.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Shut up and just come back to life or something,” Tooru snapped. Hinata sighed. Daichi had reached out and was squeezing Shōyō’s arm to see if he was real, eyes wide and wet.
“I’ll be here on Halloween,” the redhead said, and Oikawa started sobbing again when he felt Shōyō start to grow colder and a little blurry. Others had come out of the venue, and Tooru ignored all the gasps and exclamations and just tried to keep Hinata here a moment longer. “You look after mom while I’m gone, okay Natsu? I’ll watch all of your games, I’ll be there every time.”
Natsu just sobbed and clung to her brother.
“I love you,” Tooru sobbed, because he didn’t want to be the last words he spoke to him again to be anything but. “I should have told you years ago.”
“I've always loved you... Don’t forget me, okay?” Shōyō whispered back, voice echoey and his body feeling fuzzy and not-all-there in Oikawa’s arms. “I won’t go anywhere as long as you remember me.”
And then he was just—gone. The killer was still unconscious and inhaling grass through his nose. Oikawa was holding Natsu upright as she sobbed and sobbed, and Daichi and Iwaizumi were staring at the patch of grass where Shōyō had been. Tooru’s hand was still clutching a handful of feathers.
“If you can hear me, Shōyō. I’m fucking pissed at you. I’m going to hire an exorcist," Oikawa snapped through the tears running down his face.
Maybe it was just Tooru, but he could have sworn that he heard a watery little giggle from his own shadow. He shot it a glare, furious and hurt and relieved all at once. He watched as the shadow wiggled, and then peeled up and off the grass, not-quite-physical but more real than possible as a small bit of it squeezed Oikawa’s ankle comfortingly.
“I’m buying fucking holy water,” Oikawa sniffled. The shadow pinched him.
Fin.