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Kageyama Tobio is a boy made of dreams. He dreams of a ball that lands perfectly in his hands, and of hands that send the ball exactly where he wants it go, every time, without fail. He dreams of success and pride.
He dreams of victory.
Here is how it starts:
At the age of three, Kageyama Tobio is introduced to dreams by his grandfather and personal superhero, Kageyama Kazuyo. Once he puts a volleyball in Tobio’s hands, it’s impossible to grapple it free. Tobio’s hands grasp so much resolve that Kazuyo stares through like a mirror of his former self. Through Kazuyo’s mind flashes memories of glory that comes with every resounding slam of a volleyball on the side of the court that isn’t his. The rush of adrenaline that came every time his team’s score went up, even if it was only by one. He remembers himself, at the centre of it all, remembers the pride that came with thinking: we won.
(He remembers, too, the bone-deep misery that came with every time he thought, we lost. But he knows his grandson well enough to know that he will be strong enough to overcome, strong enough to get up and learn to fly again, again, again.)
So Kazuyo introduces his memories to Tobio in the form of dreams, in the form of love. Which is to say, he introduces the boy to volleyball. He gets Miwa, Tobio’s older sister, to join too, and she likes it enough to play but she doesn’t love it like Tobio, whose eyes glitter every time the world volleyball is even mentioned. He begs his grandfather to take him to every practice with an eagerness Kazuyo doesn’t think he’s ever seen in the boy. Every time Kazuyo brings out an old tape for them to watch, Tobio looks at him like he brought down the moon instead. He eagerly points out little details no one would expect a four year old to catch, and asks more questions during a single tape than in all his school years combined.
Tobio practices with every free minute he’s granted. To young Tobio, it doesn’t matter that all his teammates are women in their mid-thirties. It doesn’t matter if his sister laughs every time he fumbles the ball. All that matters is that his hands are on a volleyball, and that he can play to his heart’s content.
It’s only about a year before Tobio finds love in the same position his grandfather did - as the setter, with control over a universe and a half within his hands. For years to come, Tobio keeps playing with his grandfather and his sister and the middle aged women at the community centre. At school, Tobio’s not so keen on making friends, having enough faith in the world to think that his grandfather will always be there to play with him; and so long his grandfather is there to hit another one of his sets, his world will be stable.
Kazuyo introduces Kageyama Tobio to strength. He kneels down to look at his grandson and tells him that the stronger he gets, the more he’ll get to play. And he tells him that, if he gets really, really , strong, he can play forever. Tobio stares back at his grandfather like he’s about to fly straight towards the sun. Tobio takes his grandfather’s words as a promise, locks it in his heart, and vows to be the strongest.
Whatever it takes.
In middle school, Tobio joins the school’s volleyball team. During tryouts, his immaculate accuracy and keen intuition are impossible to ignore. The coach puts him in as a starter player immediately, and Tobio is nothing short of ecstatic.
Yet, Tobio doesn’t realize that the boys in the gym, who are as rough and prideful as he is, are nowhere near as patient or kind as the ladies at the community centre. So every time Tobio glares at a teammate for a missed spike and yells at another for failing to get up to the net in time, there aren’t any kind smiles and apologies. Instead, there are angry words spit out and arguments that sometimes end in cuts and bruises. They start to call him the “King of the Court,” ruler of barren land, land he stripped himself. Tobio, without love for his teammates but still full of love for the game they play, fumes on his way home where he complains about his teammate’s incompetence and is met with arched eyebrows and ever so slightly disapproving looks from his parents.
Still, he carries around the words of his grandfather to every volleyball practice. Get stronger , he thinks, so you can keep playing. In the end, it’s all that matters.
The second year of middle school comes around, and Tobio’s relationship inventory goes as follows: parents - 2, sister - 1, friends - 0, and, somewhere in the middle of winter, grandfather - 0. Hospital trip after hospital trip, Tobio visits his grandfather with the same sparkle he had in his eyes when he was three, eager to talk about new strategies and the other cool setter on his team, Oikawa Tooru. When Kazuyo’s health declines to the point where speaking becomes difficult, Tobio settles for re-watching a tape of a professional game on the hospital TV and pointing out all the same details from the first time and more, and never failing to notice the hint of a smile that his grandfather offered back.
And yet, despite the hospital visits, despite his parents’ quiet weeping he hears through the walls, Kageyama Kazuyo’s death rushes towards Tobio like a missile he saw coming from the horizon and still failed to get out of the way of. For the first time, Tobio truly understands what death is. What grief is. It sits on his shoulders as if his name is Atlas, but no one is there to teach him how to carry it.
There’s a funeral, where Tobio is forced to dress in a stiff black shirt and an even stiffer pair of pants. He doesn’t cry during the service, barely says a word. For the entire thing, he feels so out of touch with reality, like he’s watching it happen through someone else’s pair of eyes. His grandfather is dead. Kageyama Kazuyo is dead . The missile hasn’t fully seeped into Tobio’s skull yet, but it’s making it’s way there, excruciatingly painfully. By the end of the service, he thinks he might just lose it if he hears another person say they’re sorry for his loss. By the time he gets home, he’s lost the feeling in his fingers.
Kageyama Tobio does not know how to deal with grief. So he turns to the only thing he does know. He goes out to the backyard and picks up a volleyball.
By Tobio’s third year of middle school he’s easily the most hated person on the team. He’s still the “King of the Court.” Despite almost definitely outshining everyone in terms of skill and intuition, his bitter attitude and cutting words are nearly enough to get him kicked out of his starting position. He learns to bite his tongue in order stay, but the looks he sends his teammates when they make mistakes say plenty.
Though hidden from the unforgiving eyes of his teammates, Tobio still grieves. Every day, Tobio spends hours upon hours in his backyard with his volleyball between his hands, remembering the words of his grandfather on repeat. If you’re the strongest, you’ll be able to play the longest. Memories are now the only thing left that Tobio has of his grandfather. Memories, and volleyball. He clutches to them as strongly as he did when he first held a volleyball.
The house feels empty in a way Tobio’s never felt before. When he watches (and rewatches, and rewatches) professional games on his grandpa’s old tapes, he still pulls out a second chair. But now, he keeps his mouth shut whenever he notices something remotely interesting.
Despite the cheers coming from the screen, without his grandfather there to join them, Tobio’s never felt lonelier in his life.
Tobio keeps playing volleyball, because he doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to do with himself. If you asked him before his grandfather’s death if he loved volleyball, his answer would be, without a doubt, yes, though he’s not sure what the word means at all. His parents have started saying they love him before he goes to sleep since the funeral; he’s heard his sister tell her boyfriend the same three words. But Tobio, young and stupid, doesn’t know love if it’s not in the shape of a volleyball. Now that the only reason he loved volleyball in the first place is gone, Tobio doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel.
No one ever taught Kageyama Tobio how to deal with grief, so he remembers instead. Tobio remembers Kazuyo with each movement of his hands and wrists, remembering his encouragement and the smile he’d wear every time Tobio did something right. Every time he saw that smile, he’d feel just a bit surer as to what love was.
Now, there are no more smiles, no more words of praise, and everything he ever knew about love is gone with it.
A few weeks after high school applications, the world introduces Tobio to shame. When he receives a rejection letter from Shiratorizawa, he experiences his first panic attack. That’s what his sister calls it anyways. His sister, who’s now “all grown up” (according to his parents), finds him in his room with his back pressed against a wall and laboured breaths coming in so fast Miwa can’t tell if he’s breathing at all. Tobio doesn’t care about the school, not really, but the only dream he’s ever had was of following his grandfather’s footsteps and honouring the legacy he’d left behind. Now, with the rejection letter on his desk, his dreams are out of grasp. He imagines his grandfather, disappointed, ashamed of his grandson’s incompetence. The thought is enough to make him scream, so he does. Miwa, scared for her brother and incredibly unpracticed in professional mental health care, does the only thing she thinks might help. She wraps her arms around him, and begs him to breathe.
Breathe in, breathe out. it’ll be okay Tobio.
By the time of the middle school volleyball tournament, Tobio is the top contestant for the Loneliest Person Alive. His team is full of people on paper, yet it feels like he’s the only one standing on the court. Him, and the enemy team. Kageyama Tobio is strong, and although he is strong, he is both prideful and stupid enough to believe that if he grits his teeth hard enough he can control the game entirely on his own. As far as he is concerned, as long as he is strong enough to defeat the enemy on the other side of the net, he will be able to play. His grandfather, in a way, will still be kept alive. This is all that matters.
Enter Hinata Shoyo. Hinata Shoyo is a boy who’s probably shorter than half the girls in Tobio’s class. His hair is a brighter orange than should ever be naturally possible. Hinata Shoyo has suns for eyes and relentlessly looks like he flying straight towards one. When Hinata Shoyo jumps, he looks as though he is barrelling straight towards the heavens to fight God. When Hinata Shoyo plays, he plays as though he could kill God. He plays with enough fire to fuck a national park over, plays with more than enough fire to amount for the lack thereof in his teammates.
Hinata Shoyo also makes Kageyama Tobio really, really angry. Why?
Hinata is a shitty volleyball player, Tobio thinks. Hinata is a five foot four idiot who doesn’t know the first thing about the sport. He is a weak player, weaker than Tobio’s own teammates, and weak people don’t deserve to be on the court. But Hinata is filled with a passion that Tobio doesn’t want to admit he doesn’t have himself. This passion is enough to make up for the experience that Hinata didn’t get while everyone else did. It’s enough to send him soaring through the ceiling of the court.
On the other hand, Tobio is stuck on the ground with a crown so heavy it presses his skull into concrete. He’s angry at himself for not being able to fly like Hinata does. Tobio is furious that he is not the one who gets to fight God.
Tobio wins the game against Hinata’s team, it’s not even close. He watches as the losing team sheds a handful of tears and walks of the court in a fashion that seems like this is what they somewhat anticipated. Except for Hinata. Hinata fumes like he is a forest fire, like he is the sun.
Tobio, despite the numbers on the scoreboard, does not feel like he has won.
Before he leaves, Hinata runs up to Tobio and swears to him that so long as Tobio is the King of the Court, one day, Hinata will defeat him and take over the throne. Tobio, who has lost feeling in his fingers and arguably his heart, yells at him that the only people who get to win are the strongest people. He tells Hinata that he needs to be strong. With puffy eyes, burning even after such a brutal loss, he swears to Tobio that he will be.
Hinata makes two promises to Tobio that day, who takes them and locks them up in a compartment next to the one that carries his grandfather’s promise.
Then, for the first time since Kageyama Kazuyo’s death, Tobio brushes the dirt off his knees, stands up, and with scraped palms and Jupiter stuck in his throat, he looks up, right at the sun.