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Ever since he started playing volleyball, Asahi sensed a discrepancy between the role he filled on the team and the physical space his body occupied. Even as a first year, he was the tallest person in the club. He couldn't say that he had any special talent, but he wasn't terribly unathletic, so he managed to make it into the regular lineup as a first year. Still, no matter how many games they played, he felt like an imposter. Standing on the court, he found himself double checking to make sure that he was actually supposed to be there.
By virtue of his height, his teammates started depending on him for blocks and spikes, so somewhere along the line he started getting pretty good at it. It felt good, of course. Playing hard and helping his team score points was a great feeling. But he wondered if he would have improved so much if there hadn't been high expectations from the get-go. Before they even had their first official match, the third years started calling him “future ace material.”
This made Daichi and Sugawara excited, but left a strange feeling in Asahi's gut. It was possible that he cared too much, but he couldn't drop the train of thought. Was he the type of person who could naturally become the team's ace or would he simply become the ace because the conditions were right?
The source of his discomfort was hard to explain, even to himself.
Sugawara and Daichi were good about cheering him on from the sidelines, though they teased him while they were at it. “Go get 'em, bigfoot!" and such. Their heckle-cheering was strangely comforting. They knew that he was conscious of being the only first year on the court and the immediacy of their voices helped him feel less alone.
The inter-high came and went. The third years retired and opened their places on the court. Sugawara made it onto the regular lineup, but Daichi barely missed the cut. Asahi could see his friend's frustration clear as day, though he wouldn't say it aloud. For both morning and evening practice, Daichi started arriving earlier and leaving later.
Before long, it was spring again. New first years filed into the gym with bleached-white sneakers and excited grins. The rest of the team faced them in a single line, with the third years standing in the center and the second years flanking them. Asahi stood toward the far end of the line, next to Daichi. He didn’t feel much like an upperclassman, but here he was.
As their captain addressed the newcomers, Asahi cast a glance down over their faces. Clean uniforms aside, they didn't look too different from the other second years. These were his underclassmen? He was supposed to instruct them?
One pair of sneakers in the lineup was dirtier than the rest, especially for indoor gym shoes. Not only that, they were smaller. Most people looked small to Asahi, though even he could tell that this first year was shorter than his peers by a notable margin. A libero, then?
At that point, Asahi realized that the libero had caught him staring and was looking right back at him. Not nervously, not angrily. Just looking.
Asahi dropped his gaze immediately.
+
Regardless of the size of his body, Nishinoya could fill the whole gymnasium with his presence. He made it onto the regular lineup as a matter of fact. Coach Ukai would have to be insane not to make immediate use of one of the best liberos in the prefecture. And unlike Asahi, his placement was based purely on skill.
During a match, Nishinoya's sphere of influence seemed near-infinite. He could extend his body to cover a ridiculous portion of the court as if the physical length of his limbs was no limit. Between plays, his shouts of encouragement were the brightest and loudest. Without saying so directly, he let everyone know: "I'm here. I'm right behind you. You've got nothing to fear."
And off the court...
Asahi wasn't sure when he started noticing that Nishinoya was always there. When he reached for a water bottle, it was Nishinoya who handed it to him. When he went to the storage closet to fetch a mop, it was Nishinoya who'd already grabbed them from the rack. Always cheerful, always smiling.
"Nice plays today, Asahi-san!"
As he accepted the water bottle or mop from Nishinoya's outstretched hand, he couldn't help but offer his own smile in return.
+
It couldn't be coincidence that Nishinoya was always physically near him. None of the other first years were so willing to be helpful. Besides, he never caught Nishinoya handing towels to the rest of the second years, only him.
Sugawara and Daichi joked that Asahi had a one-man fanclub among the first years. Another first year, Tanaka, needled Nishinoya for sucking up to the upperclassmen. Nishinoya, for his part, was completely unembarrassed by his conduct.
"Asahi-san is one of our best players. Why wouldn't I want to help him?"
Was it normal for the person on the receiving end of this treatment to be more embarrassed than the giver? Asahi just didn't know how to respond.
He didn't usually give much credence to Sugawara and Daichi's teasing, especially when they implied that Nishinoya had a crush on his big, strong wing spiker. It was easy enough to wave off their jokes in person, but Asahi found the thought resurfacing in his mind several times a day.
It seemed ridiculous. To begin with, who in their right mind would have a crush on him? Another teammate—a male teammate? Especially one who was constantly making eyes at their manager?
Not to mention the Nishinoya Special: telling him off for losing focus in practice. Granted, Nishinoya was the first to point out when his fellow first years were slacking. On the other hand, Asahi was the only upperclassman to receive this treatment.
Then to add another layer of confusion, Nishinoya would appear and offer to massage his shoulders, because "Asahi-san's arm rotation seemed more stiff than usual in that last game." Despite the furious whirring of his mental motors, Asahi was having trouble coming up with an alternate explanation to the crush theory.
Perhaps the most compelling piece of counter-evidence was Nishinoya's total comfort around him. Normally when somebody had a crush, they would get shy or anxious around the object of their affection. At least, that was how Asahi had experienced crushes in the past. That was how his classmates acted. Was Nishinoya a strange breed of human whose stomach simply didn't produce butterflies? Maybe prodigies like Nishinoya played by different rules.
That wasn't quite right either. Other than Nishinoya's ridiculous talents in receiving and materializing out of nowhere, he was startlingly normal. He liked ice cream and pretty girls. He liked four-character idioms, action movies... and, evidently, Asahi.
+
Asahi got used to Nishinoya's closeness rather than questioning it. Just like when they were on the court, he grew accustomed to their libero's familiar presence at his back. When he allowed himself to let go of his apprehension, it started to feel similar to Nishinoya's influence during a match: calming, reassuring.
Besides, when their team’s best player was always nearby, Asahi had plenty of opportunities to observe him.
Nishinoya sported more bruises than any other player on the team, rivaled only by Daichi. The libero's role lent itself to flying receives, but Asahi could tell that there was more to it than that. He noticed when Nishinoya left practice in the evening and came back with a fresh scuff on his forearm in the morning.
Not only that, Nishinoya was constantly watching the rest of the team. When Sugawara began hitting decisive serves with regularity, Nishinoya was the first to compliment him. If Tanaka or Ennoshita slacked off during cool-down drills, he’d heckle them until they bucked up.
Of course, Asahi was often a resigned target of this treatment. He’d learned to see it coming. There was a certain way that Nishinoya’s eyebrows would twitch when he was irritated that was actually fairly cute. Sadly, this knowledge did nothing to lessen the impact of the subsequent outbursts.
Ultimately, none of them could be mad about it when it was clear that Nishinoya had the team’s best interests at heart. Plus, nobody was in a position to tell Nishinoya that he wasn’t working hard enough.
Despite this, Nishinoya rarely bragged. He was quick to puff his chest out about how cool and difficult the position of the libero was, but never about how hard he worked and how cool he was. In the same breath, Nishinoya would tell Asahi that he was cool, that he would be the team's ace in no time. Asahi, who suffered a mild panic attack every time he was up to serve, found this hard to believe.
“Asahi-san, you'll just short-circuit if you think about it too much. Just keep going hard on those spikes. I'll believe in you enough for the both of us,” Nishinoya said, slapping Asahi on the arm.
Naturally, Asahi hid his face in his towel and pretended that there was something stuck in his eyes. At least practice was over, giving him a good few minutes to regain his composure.
When he lifted his head again, Nishinoya was just a few meters away, helping Tanaka take down the net. Asahi jogged over and started to dismantle the posts for storage.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Nishinoya and Tanaka goofing off with one another as they tidied up. Nishinoya was laughing as they swiped at each other's legs, trying to force the other one to trip. Tanaka had the upper hand in strength, but Nishinoya was more graceful. He danced from foot to foot with a cackle, more a crow than the rest of them.
Asahi wondered at this as he fiddled with the rigging for the net posts. Come to think of it, wasn't Nishinoya from Chidoriyama Junior High? Both Chidoriyama and Karasuno had the character for “bird” in them. Knowing Nishinoya, he'd probably already noticed and accepted it as fate.
The metal creaked and one of the steel poles slipped in his hand, falling loose from the latch. While he wasn't paying attention, it had come apart and the upper half of the post collapsed in on the bottom half, snagging his hand in the juncture where they met. The meat of his palm got caught and Asahi yelped like he'd slammed his hand in a car door.
Whoosh--like a bird swooping in on its prey, Nishinoya was beside him in an instant. Asahi had already freed himself from the jamb of the net post, but Nishinoya took Asahi's hand in his nonetheless. Nishinoya's fingers, however gentle, smarted against the angry red swelling on his palm.
“Ah, Nishinoya—”
“Asahi-san.” Nishinoya fixed him with a sharp glare, cradling Asahi's palm in his hands. “What were you thinking?”
The pain wasn't really that bad. His hand would be fine in the morning. Also, wasn't Nishinoya standing a little too close? Asahi didn't quite manage to stammer out any of these things, so Nishinoya went on.
“You weren't paying attention and you hurt your hand. You can’t go around doing that.” Nishinoya looked down at Asahi's hand and curled his fingers gently around it, careful not to exacerbate the swelling. He frowned and added softly, “What are we supposed to do if one of our best spikers injures his hands? You need to take better care of yourself.”
Asahi felt his gaze drawn to their hands as well. Even if his hand weren't swollen, the difference in size was striking. His hand looked like a callused lump of meat in comparison to Nishinoya's pale and slim hands. In terms of ability, Nishinoya's hands were more valuable by far. Yet he cradled Asahi's hand like he was holding something extremely precious.
Shyly, Asahi glanced at Nishinoya's face. His expression was utterly earnest: concern, frustration, and—
It was like the floor fell out from beneath him. Asahi could see the underlying emotion in Nishinoya's face as clear as day; he felt like an idiot for refusing to see it before. But he also saw something else.
Nishinoya himself didn't realize it.
He was not at all aware of whatever feelings he had. All he thought about was what was right in front of him, and right now that was Asahi, his big, stupid teammate who had carelessly jammed his hand in a net post.
Asahi couldn’t do anything but blush. To make matters worse, he lacked a towel to hide from Nishinoya’s stare or the courage to escape. Either way, Nishinoya still held fast to his hand. How could Asahi be anything but embarrassed to stand as he was in the strength of Nishinoya’s affection? He was cowardly and negligent and didn’t deserve to be there.
But there was yet another part of him that dared to be happy. It was small, not as loud as the shame. Somehow under the weight of his doubt, it persisted, warm and encouraging. Like Nishinoya's hands. Like Nishinoya himself.
“I, uh,” Asahi managed. “I'm sorry. I was spacing out.”
“Obviously,” Nishinoya said. “Let's ask Kiyoko-san for some ice.”
Nishinoya grasped Asahi by the wrist and pulled him toward the side of the gym. Allowing himself to be led, Asahi glanced around at their teammates. If anybody had seen the two of them standing together and holding hands (though how could they not?), they didn't seem to be making anything of it. (In its own way, that was even stranger.)
Asahi figured that for the time being, it was probably better that way. Until Nishinoya recognized his own feelings, it was safer not to say anything.
“Are you already spacing out again, Asahi-san?”
Asahi snapped back to reality to see Nishinoya looking over his shoulder, a vaguely irritated furrow in his brow. In that moment it occurred to him just how lucky he was to be the object of Nishinoya's attention. Nishinoya was sharp, talented, and boundlessly caring and he still chose to pay attention to Asahi. Regardless of whether or not he deserved it, it didn't seem like Nishinoya was going to let him go anytime soon.
Maybe Asahi could learn from that. He could stand to focus more on the things right in front of him too: the just-firm-enough pressure of Nishinoya's grip, the not-actually-irritated curve of Nishinoya's scowl.
“No, I'm here, I'm here.” Asahi laughed sheepishly. “Sorry to make you worry so much about me.”
At the sight of Asahi's smile, Nishinoya's face split into a grin as well.
“Don't mention it, Asahi-san. That's what I'm here for.”
+
His second year inter-high preliminaries went similarly to his first year’s. Although Daichi finally made the regular lineup, Karasuno didn't progress very far in the brackets. The team took it hard, especially after suffering through Coach Ukai's grueling practices, but nobody was more frustrated than Nishinoya.
It was his first major tournament in high school. He must have known that unlike Chidoriyama, Karasuno wasn't a powerhouse school. Still, there was a difference between knowing one's weakness and feeling it firsthand. After the bus ride back to Karasuno, Asahi wasn't quite sure how to approach him. There wasn't anything he could say that would make a difference.
They had all packed up their belongings and were started to head home before the sun went down. Exiting the gym, Asahi found Nishinoya sitting on the stairs outside, towel draped over his shoulders and elbows on his knees. He didn't just look small—his presence felt small. Asahi had never seen him like that.
Asahi opened his mouth. The words failed to form. But, as always, Nishinoya had already noticed that Asahi was there. He glanced up out of the corner of his eyes and offered a small nod. That was enough of a cue for Asahi to sit down beside him.
There were all sorts of things he wanted to say. For one, their loss wasn't Nishinoya's fault. Nishinoya had pulled off some incredible receives and frankly, Asahi had never seen him play better. Daichi and Sugawara probably felt the same way.
Asahi, on the other hand… He could have done better. If he had trained half as hard as Nishinoya did, then maybe—
“I know what you're thinking, and stop it,” Nishinoya said suddenly, sitting up straight. Asahi turned to meet Nishinoya's steadfast gaze, the same focused eyes he'd seen at their first practice.
“Ah, I'm sorry—”
“And don't apologize either.” Nishinoya frowned. “You played well. We all did. The other team was just better.”
“...Yeah. We'll be better next time.”
“Spring tournament,” Nishinoya said, nodding. “And you'll be our ace.”
Ah. That was right, Asahi had almost forgotten. When the third years retired, he would be the most senior wing spiker on the team. By process of elimination, that would make him the ace. He felt his stomach start to sink when Nishinoya slapped him on the back.
“That'll be our comeback! We'll be counting on you, Asahi-san.”
“Way to put on the pressure...”
Asahi laughed weakly, but stopped when he realized that Nishinoya's hand was still resting on his back, just below his shoulder blade. It hadn't moved since Nishinoya had smacked him there.
“Nishinoya…?”
There was a moment where Nishinoya blinked at him wordlessly before both their bodies responded. Nishinoya drew his hand back as Asahi leaned forward. Neither of them said anything for a few more moments.
Asahi dared to glance sidelong when Nishinoya stood up abruptly, whirling to face Asahi. For the first time since that morning, Nishinoya was smiling again.
“I'm going home! See you tomorrow, ace!”
Nishinoya parted with one last grin and a wave. Dumbfounded and unmoving, Asahi watched him jog around the school building towards the front gates. If that was a moment of realization on Nishinoya's part, it was impossible for him to tell. Knowing Nishinoya, it wouldn't be any clearer tomorrow.
The reasonable thing to do would be for Asahi to follow Nishinoya's example and go home. He needed to recover for tomorrow's practice and as Nishinoya had pointed out, Asahi was the ace now. Daichi was probably going to give him hell too, now that he was the new team captain. It would be great if he believed in himself as much as the rest of the team seemed to.
As the sun sank lower in the sky, the shadows of the trees and school buildings stretched out longer and farther to the east. Asahi found himself imagining the tips of Nishinoya's fingers, extending his reach ever outward. Nishinoya probably never thought of himself as an imposter. It would never occur to him, in the same way that it never occurred to him that he was probably in love with Asahi.
Asahi swallowed a lump in his throat and wrapped his hand around the strap of his bag. For better or for worse, when the sun came up tomorrow things would be different. In a way, it was comforting to know that Nishinoya would most likely continue to be oblivious to his own feelings. At least that would remain a constant, if nothing else.
If there was anything Asahi had learned over the last year, it was that he needed some kind of anchor to stabilize him. He was just lucky that he'd found one in the form of Nishinoya. Maybe, in some way, he could help anchor Nishinoya too.
He mustered a small, private smile at the thought. With that in mind, Asahi stood up, hefted his bag on his shoulder, and started to make his own way home.