Chapter Text
Hinata doesn’t pay much heed to the whole status thing anymore.
It’s not like his high school days when that was all anyone ever talked about. Yeah, it was tough at first, being an omega in volleyball; a sport where power and height - attributes he lacks - are celebrated. But he’s proven time and again that his ‘lower’ status won’t get in the way of winning. If anything, his speed, agility, and small stature enable him to be an effective decoy during matches and to steer clear of alpha players during their inevitable pissing contests. Insulting jabs from Tsukishima aside, he stopped being self-conscious over his status the second he scored the winning point in their first match. No one treats him like a weak, needy, emotional omega when he’s sailing through the air and striking the ball hard in the opponent’s court.
Even Kageyama, who he still butts heads with every so often - though they’ve come a long way since their rocky first year - doesn’t treat him differently because of his status. Actually, it’s Hinata who has to remind dense Kageyama, usually whilst waving his arms in protest, that HELLO, omega here – quit it with the careless manhandling, already.
The point is that Hinata has been so preoccupied with proving himself that it never even occurs to him that alphas, who he assumes have everything (overconfidence, popularity, height, a say in their own destiny) might have problems too.
Until now, that is.
It’s the height of spring, three weeks into their second year of university, and so far, Kageyama has been…off.
Firstly, there’s his disposition. If Kageyama’s default temper is hot, then this year it’s positively volcanic.
He returns from the academic break taller, bossier, and crankier than ever. It shows in the viciousness of his serves and the bite of his tone when Hinata begs for one too many tosses. The strain of holding himself back from striking Tsukishima, who still can’t resist poking at him, is evident in his tense shoulders, tight jaw, and jerky movements. He always manages to get a hold of himself and stalks away, to everyone’s relief and much collective sighing. But the anger in his voice when he berates their teammates is real. The players start to give Kageyama a wider birth rather than risk his temper. Even Tsukishima learns to tread more cautiously around him.
Hinata watches all this happen with a twisting sensation in his belly, which it takes him a while to identify as helplessness. It’s as if the dial on Kageyama’s less favourable alpha qualities has been turned up to max and Hinata, normally glued to his side, learns to keep his distance.
That’s not to mention the fishy behaviour, starting with Kageyama’s absence during lunch breaks. A time he and Hinata would ordinarily practice alone together. Sometimes he appears later with bruises and busted knuckles. Odd, since Kageyama is normally so fastidious about his precious setter’s hands. When Hinata questions him, Kageyama abruptly changes the subject, eyes darting around shiftily. One thing that hasn’t changed: Kageyama is still a terrible liar.
Hinata contemplates all this as he rushes to practice one morning after waking up late - past the huge cafeteria with glass floor to ceiling windows, past the immense lecture halls, past the grassy green square littered with trees, signposts, and benches that marks the centre of campus. He barely registers the changing scenery as he runs, his mind on Kageyama.
He’s distracted throughout practice which gets him yelled at a total of seven times (“concentrate, idiot!”). And when he’s running around after balls at the end, he somehow trips over a bottle left on the floor and flies into Kageyama’s back.
“Hinata!” Kageyama turns to snarl down at him. “Watch where you’re going, you little shit.”
“S-s-sorry!” Hinata wheezes.
“He’s not the one who needs to watch it,” Tsukishima’s low voice drawls over Hinata’s head.
Hinata yelps and darts behind Kageyama, using his body as a shield. There’s no way he’s getting in the middle of these two trying to out-alpha each other when tempers are high. Tsukishima ignores him, directing his haughty stare at Kageyama.
Hinata wonders if Tsukishima has a death wish today.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kageyama retorts.
Tsukishima leans forward, towering over them. “Don’t think I don’t know of your little incident earlier,” he says, his tone deceptively pleasant. “At this rate, you’re going to sabotage our chances in the tournament this year.”
“Huh?” Hinata says. “What’s he talking about, Kageyama?”
When Kageyama refuses to look at him, Hinata bristles in indignation.
“Answer him.” Tsukishima says, looking increasingly annoyed.
Kageyama remains silent, which disconcerts Hinata more than his shouting.
The others, scattered across the gym, gradually stop what they’re doing to look at the three of them.
The atmosphere thickens with tension.
“Tsukki?” Yamaguchi intervenes, his voice nervous. “What’s going on?”
“The King here has been given a final warning,” Tsukishima announces, glancing at Yamaguchi. “One more fight and he’s off the team.”
Hinata’s yell of, “WHAT!” is drowned in the same horrified shout from Tanaka and Nishinoya. He looks over at Daichi for confirmation but the grim expression on the man’s face tells Hinata that this is no joke.
“This doesn’t just concern you anymore,” Tsukishima lectures, turning back to Kageyama. “One wrong step and-“
“Shut up!” Kageyama snaps, taking a step forward before halting. “Like I would let that happen.”
“Oh? Because you have such excellent self-control?” Tsukishima scoffs.
Hinata grips the ball in his hands, chest tightening, caught in the net of Kageyama’s frustration.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Daichi says. Turning to address them all, he admits, “It’s true that Kageyama has been in one too many fights and Takeda-sensei felt he had no choice but to issue the warning. The reputation of the team is at stake.” He clears his throat. “But we should be supporting Kageyama.” As if to demonstrate this, he claps a hand on Kageyama’s shoulder and turns to face him. “I’m here if you need to talk.”
“Me too,” Sugawara chirps, apparently immune to any atmospheric changes.
“That’s right!” Tanaka declares, puffing up his chest and wielding a thumbs up at Kageyama. “You can always come to your dependable senpai for advice! We’ll be here for you in your moment of need!”
“Dependable?” Nishinoya snickers.
Kageyama glares down at the floor, outwardly uncomfortable.
“That’ll be all for this morning,” Daichi calls out with finality. “Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, you’re on clean up duty.”
Everyone springs into action, busy avoiding Kageyama, except for Hinata. Hinata catches a glimpse of a conflicted expression on Kageyama’s face before he marches away. Hinata tries to think of something to say, something to call out after him, but for once he’s speechless. Their number one setter could be evicted from the team. The concept is wrong somehow, like preparing to lose a limb.
“You okay, Hinata?” Yamaguchi asks, looking at him with concern.
Hinata shrugs. He doesn’t want to admit that he was none the wiser about the fighting, or the warning. Why hasn’t Kageyama mentioned any of this? There’s been ample opportunity to talk since the start of the academic year. They deal with problems together, albeit after screaming insults and the occasional tantrum, but it works for them. He wonders if his teammates have known all along, if Hinata is the only one in the dark. His mind can’t help but linger on the thought that it’s because of his status, the crucial thing that sets him apart from the others. Rationally, he knows the team aren’t prejudiced like that, but these things can be subtle or unconscious. Even the most conscientious of alphas talk down to or disregard omegas at times. His fists clench in indignation at the idea that there might have been a collective decision to keep him uninformed. But then, no – Tanaka and Nishinoya were definitely surprised and they’re betas; it wasn’t just Hinata.
Daichi appears like an embodiment of his thoughts and says quietly, so that the others don’t overhear whilst Yamaguchi slouches away, “Hinata, has Kageyama spoken to you about this?”
“No,” Hinata says sullenly. “Why does Kageyama keep fighting?”
Daichi grimaces. “He has a short fuse at the moment. You’ll have to be…careful around him.”
“Careful?”
“I know you two like to wind each other up. But try not to get on Kageyama’s bad side. He may hurt you.”
“Kageyama would never-!”
“I know he wouldn’t mean too. But his self-control isn’t good at the moment. So just give him some space, okay?”
“Okay,” Hinata agrees, reluctantly.
So Kageyama wants to fight.
Presumably with people who possess greater muscle mass than Hinata.
Kageyama, alpha and star setter. Kageyama, with his perfect serve, unwavering confidence, and infuriating height. Kageyama, who has always appeared invincible, unreachable even. It seems impossible to think of the team without Kageyama as a crucial part of it.
Hinata had set out to prove himself to Kageyama from the start; first to earn his tosses, then to earn his trust, his alliance, and more recently… well, he thought they understood each other. But clearly, he’s been wrong this whole time. There must be something integral to Kageyama – his alpha-ness, maybe – that Hinata isn’t privy to and can’t seem to comprehend.
He wonders if he should feel grateful that Kageyama clearly decided to redirect his aggressive urges elsewhere. Instead, Hinata’s unhappy at being cut off from a part of Kageyama’s life now. The thing that puzzles him the most is the thought of Kageyama dedicating his incredible focus to something outside of volleyball. As far as he knows, Kageyama doesn’t even have friends beyond the team. He spends all his non-volleyball time performing unavoidable basic functions like eating and sleeping; occasionally studying - and hanging out with Hinata. If he doesn’t have time for friends, when does he find time to make enemies?
Hinata has a short reprieve between lectures in the afternoon so he wanders on foot through campus. The distinctive scent of pine pervades the forested paths between large grey blocks of buildings. He reaches the green square where he’s often guaranteed to see a group of people that he knows sitting in circle formation on the grass. It’s a bright day, and frequent gusts of wind send leaves and petals whirling through the cool air.
There are students loitering in the pleasant weather but no one he recognises. He sits with a huff on a wooden bench, kicks his legs out in frustration and looks up at the blue sky covered in snaky lines of white cloud.
The serene moment passes when his view is blocked by a tall form, casting him in shadow. Tsukishima, glowering down at him, hands in the sleeve pocket of his hoodie, headphones dangling from round his neck. What’s unusual is that Yamaguchi is nowhere in sight, and that Tsukishima is approaching Hinata outside of practice.
“Um, hi,” Hinata says, sitting up.
“No king to keep you company?” Tsukishima says.
Hinata would normally leap to Kageyama’s defence at the nickname, but he’s too distracted today.
He recoils when Tsukishima sits down next to him.
Tsukishima slouches forward with his forearms balanced on his knees, looking out at the students scattered around them.
“He’s got lectures all afternoon,” Hinata says, inching away.
“Oh? Then why did I just see him slinking behind the gym?”
Gasping, Hinata jumps up. “Fighting? Can’t you do something, Tsukishima!” he growls. Even if Hinata rushes over there now, an omega breaking up a confrontation between alphas is about as effective as a puppy in a showdown between wolves.
Tsukishima snorts. “Somehow I doubt he’ll appreciate me stepping in. Besides, he needs to grow up and sort out his own problems.”
“But-!”
“But you know who should be helping him, don’t you?” Tsukishima turns to stare at him.
“Me?” Hinata squawks. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Isn’t it your job to, ahem, relieve some of that tension he’s carrying around?”
“W-what are you impl-”
“It’s obvious what I’m implying. Please don’t make me spell it out for you.”
“I don’t know what to do!” The frustration of the situation wells up inside him like an overfilled water balloon waiting to burst. He looks up at Tsukishima, eyes wide in the desperate need to help Kageyama and ultimately the whole volleyball team.
Tsukishima gives a ridiculously long-suffering sigh and mutters what sounds suspiciously like a Buddhist prayer.
“Very well. I’ll give you some much-needed advice. But on one condition.”
Hinata nods frantically enough that his neck hurts.
“Once this is done, I don’t want to hear any whining about Kageyama, and I definitely don’t want any details.”
Hinata nods with more reluctance this time, rubbing his aching neck.
“Tell me what you know,” Tsukishima starts, with obvious low expectations, going on the derision in his voice, “- if anything - about alphas and omegas. We’ll leave betas out of it for the moment, because I don’t want to risk overloading your brain.”
Hinata’s face heats with embarrassment, his eyes darting everywhere but at Tsukishima. Tsukishima is correct in his assumption that Hinata knows extraordinarily little. Not only that, but Hinata finds it awkward discussing this with Tsukishima, probably one of the most intimidating alphas he knows.
Tsukishima heaves another sigh at the telling silence. “We’ll do this another way.” He pauses, thinking, and then says, “As much as it pains me to admit, there’s a reason why omegas exist.”
“Hey!”
“Listen. In every population there needs to be a social balance for the sake of harmony. We can’t have a society of alphas because we’d spend all our time fighting. We can’t have a society of omegas, because no one would lead, and nothing would ever get done.”
Hinata huffs but doesn’t disagree.
“I hate to say it, but alphas tend to be driven by testosterone rather than…rationality,” Tsukishima says with a grimace. “It can be difficult for us to control the urge to…assert dominance.” Tsukishima is definitely avoiding looking at him now.
“Uh…”
“On the other hand, omegas tend to be more placid” – he raises a hand when Hinata starts to protest - “generally, omegas are calming to be around. They release pheromones that bring down the testosterone level, especially when they’re…in a good mood.”
Hinata shifts uneasily, biting his lip. “What are you trying to say?”
“Just being in the same room as an omega is good, if there aren’t a load of alphas around,” Tsukishima says, thoughtfully, making Hinata wonder if he’s talking from experience. “But the most effective way to calm an alpha down is… physical contact.”
“So, what you’re saying is that…touching Kageyama…will make him happy?” Hinata says.
Tsukishima smirks. “Not necessarily. But, depending on who’s doing the touching, it might relax him.”
“So, I should…what - hold his hand, or something?” Hinata gulps, reminded of the time he held Natsu’s pet hamster and kept flinching out of the fear that it would embed its huge teeth into the soft flesh of his hand. Sadly, the innocent hamster was dropped a total of three times before Natsu banned him from holding it.
“I don’t think it matters what form it takes, as long as it involves some kind of contact.”
“Really?” Hinata says doubtfully, recalling the many occasions Kageyama has grabbed him by the arm or hair; picked him up or held him like a ragdoll and not seemed any calmer afterwards. Then again, Kageyama’s default mood is grumpy at best and Hinata’s observational skills are typically directed at matches, not Kageyama’s responses to him or other omegas, so maybe he just hasn’t noticed.
Come to think of it, the only other omega involved with the team is Yachi. He tries to imagine Yachi holding Kageyama’s hand and feels…distinctly uncomfortable. What if Kageyama starts touching Yachi in order to…feel better?
Hinata is deep in thought when he hears, “don’t hurt yourself thinking about it,” as a parting gift before Tsukishima leaves, job done.
Is this really what it will take to get Kageyama to chill out?
He imagines Kageyama in a Buddha-like state of serenity after holding Hinata’s hand for a hundred hours. No more fights, his attention one hundred percent on Hinata. And volleyball. As it should be.
Hinata steels himself.
If a bit of handholding is what Kageyama needs, then…
…he’s willing to make that sacrifice.
Hinata ponders Tsukishima’s words long after he strides away.
Needless to say, he pays scant attention during his afternoon lectures.
When his final lecture ends, he hovers around the exit, feeling at a loss since the team doesn’t have practice that evening. Kageyama is probably practicing with a vengeance now. It’s how he usually lets off steam. In fact, volleyball is likely the only way Kageyama knows to express himself.
Hinata can help in that department, at least.
Encouraged, instead of returning to his dorm, he runs a loop of campus to track Kageyama down. If he’s going to make use of his biology to help Kageyama, then he needs to gather more data first. He needs to assess the risk that Kageyama will kill him for trying.
In a rare feat of generosity, he decides to grab meat buns on the way. One for himself as a priority, and the other as a sort of peace offering for Kageyama.
Hinata finds him in a secluded spot behind the volleyball gym, throwing a ball at the wall. His expression is shuttered.
If it weren’t for the black aura surrounding Kageyama, enhanced by the evening shadows, this would be a peaceful place. It’s a narrow area between the gym and the red brick wall that marks the campus boundary. There’s a long strip of grass, a few flowering white trees, and a stone bench. A mild breeze plays lazily with the hanging branches, and the area is bathed in an orange glow from the diminishing sun.
Hinata’s approach is loud in this quiet part of campus and Kageyama’s head jerks up to glare at him. Before Kageyama can bark at him to go away, Hinata waves the meat buns around. “I come bearing food!” He withholds the impulse to launch a meat bun at Kageyama’s head. Instead, he rushes up to Kageyama but halts before getting too close.
“What’s this for?” Kageyama grumbles, closing the gap. He takes his meat bun and regards it sceptically.
“It’s for you,” Hinata says lightly.
“What’s wrong with it?”
Hinata takes a huge bite of his own. “Gipth it back ith you don’ wan’ dib.”
Kageyama is still frowning. “You don’t owe me one. You’re ahead at the moment.”
Hinata puffs up with pride. He won the previous two races to the gym. “So what? I’m feeling generous today.”
“I don’t want a… pity meat bun.”
“Are you seriously turning it down?!”
“…No.” He holds the meat bun up out of Hinata’s reach.
Hinata rolls his eyes.
He sits on the stone floor and leans back against the wall, and after a moment (still frowning at the offending item) Kageyama joins him, plonking himself a metre away.
Hinata occasionally sneaks side glances at him. Kageyama’s head is lowered, clearly deep in thought as he chews. His hair is darker than ever and falls down into his face, shielding his eyes. Hinata has the strange urge to lean over and touch it, but resists. He wonders, for maybe the hundredth time that day, what’s going on inside his friend’s head.
They munch in comfortable silence until nothing is left.
It’s Kageyama who breaks the silence. He suggests they work on Hinata’s receive.
Hinata heads back to his dorm starving after two hours of gruelling practice. There were no opportunities to touch Kageyama (other than being caught in a headlock after teasing him for being slow). But, Hinata has learnt that Kageyama can be placated with at least two things:
Volleyball, and food.