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I started walking Tendou home because it was practical.
That’s what I told myself.
After he got jumped last year by the same boys who used to corner him in middle school, I decided it was inefficient to let him walk alone. They were our age now. Bigger. Meaner in quieter ways. Tendou laughed it off at practice, said, “It’s nostalgic, Ushiwaka! They never get tired of me.”
But his smile had been stretched thin.
So I walked him home.
I told him it was because my route overlapped. It didn’t.
Tonight the air was cold enough to sting. Tendou was talking, hands animated as usual, telling me about a block he wanted to try against Date Tech if we ever played them again. His voice filled the quiet street.
“You’d crush it anyway,” he said lightly. “You always do.”
“I don’t always,” I replied.
He bumped his shoulder into mine. “You’re so modest it’s annoying.”
I heard the footsteps before I saw them.
Three sets. Quick. Closing in.
Tendou noticed at the same time I did. His chatter cut off.
They stepped out from between two buildings. I recognized them vaguely—faces I’d seen watching from across the street before. One of them smirked.
“Well, look who it is. The freak and his guard dog.”
Tendou rolled his eyes. “You guys again? Didn’t we graduate from this phase?”
“Shut up.”
They moved closer.
“Give us your bags,” one said. “Phones too.”
“No,” I answered.
Simple.
One of them laughed. “You think being tall makes you untouchable?”
I shifted slightly in front of Tendou.
“Ushijima,” Tendou murmured. It wasn’t a warning. It was a check-in.
“I’m here,” I said.
It happened fast.
One lunged for my bag. I tightened my grip. Another circled. I heard Tendou swear as he shoved someone away. There was a scuffle behind me—shoes scraping, fabric tearing.
Then something hard collided with the back of my head.
A sharp, blunt force.
White exploded across my vision.
I stumbled forward, knees buckling. The world tilted, streetlights smearing into streaks. My ears rang like someone had struck a metal bar beside them.
I tasted iron.
Through the blur, I saw shapes moving. Heard grunts. Tendou’s voice—louder than usual.
“Get off him—!”
Another hit. Not as strong. But enough.
I dropped to one knee.
My grip didn’t loosen.
Hands tugged at my bag. I held it by instinct alone.
“Let go!” someone shouted.
I heard Tendou curse again. The sound of a body hitting pavement.
Then—
A crack.
Sharp. Loud. Wrong.
For a second my mind refused to process it.
Gunshot.
The street went silent.
Even the ringing in my ears seemed to pause.
My vision cleared just enough for me to see Tendou standing a few feet away.
Then he looked down.
There was red blooming through his shirt, just above his hip.
He blinked.
“Oh,” he said faintly.
And he fell.
Something inside my chest tore open.
I forced my body upright. The world swayed but I didn’t let it take me. The boys were already running—footsteps fading, one of them swearing under his breath.
Cowards.
I dropped beside Tendou.
He was on his side, hands instinctively clutching at his own shirt. Blood seeped between his fingers.
“No,” I said. My voice didn’t sound like mine.
I pressed my hand over the wound immediately, hard. Warmth flooded against my palm. Too much of it.
Tendou sucked in a shaky breath.
“Wow,” he murmured, staring up at the sky. “That’s new.”
“Don’t joke,” I told him. My hands were steady. My voice was not.
“It’s just… a little dramatic, don’t you think?” He tried to grin. It trembled.
“You’ve been shot.”
“When you say it like that it sounds serious.”
“It is serious.”
His eyes shifted to me. Even now they were bright, curious. Studying my face.
“You’re bleeding too,” he said softly.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not supposed to lie, Ushiwaka. It ruins your brand.”
My throat tightened. I increased the pressure on his side. He winced—just slightly.
“Stay with me,” I said.
“I’m right here.”
I fumbled my phone out with my free hand, nearly dropping it because my fingers were slick. I dialed emergency services. My voice was calm when I gave the location. I don’t remember deciding to be calm. It just happened.
“Yes. Gunshot wound. Male. Seventeen.”
The operator asked questions. I answered them.
Conscious?
“Yes.”
Breathing?
“Yes.”
Bleeding heavily?
“Yes.”
“Help is on the way,” they said.
On the way.
It felt too far away.
Tendou’s breathing had grown shallower.
“Hey,” he murmured. “You’re… crying.”
I blinked. My vision distorted again.
I hadn’t noticed.
Tears were falling silently, dropping onto his shirt, mixing with the blood.
I don’t cry.
I didn’t know I could.
“You are not allowed to leave,” I told him. The words broke halfway through.
He smiled faintly.
“Even when you’re crying,” he whispered, voice weaker now, “you’re still so beautiful.”
My chest constricted so violently it hurt more than the blow to my head.
“Don’t talk,” I said.
“Bossy…”
His eyes fluttered.
“Tendou.”
“I’m just… going to close my eyes for a second…”
“No.”
His head lolled slightly. His body grew heavier beneath my hand.
“Tendou.”
No response.
“Tendou!”
I shook him with my free hand, careful not to lessen the pressure on the wound.
“Stay awake.”
Nothing.
His face had gone pale. Too pale.
My heart pounded so hard I thought it might split my ribs apart.
“Come back,” I said, the words barely sound. “You are not allowed to leave me.”
In the distance—
Sirens.
Finally.
But they still felt impossibly far away.
I pressed harder against the wound, my entire body bent over him like I could shield him from the world itself.
“Please,” I whispered.
—————
For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel strong.
I felt helpless.
And I had never hated anything
I don’t remember standing.
I remember hands.
Gloves. Firm. Efficient.
They pried me away from Tendou.
I fought them at first—not violently, but desperately. My hand refused to leave his side. It felt like if I let go, he would disappear.
“He needs pressure—” I heard myself say. “Don’t stop the pressure.”
They assured me they wouldn’t. I couldn’t tell if they were speaking gently or if that’s just how everything sounded through the roaring in my ears.
Someone tried to guide me toward the ambulance.
“I’m going with him,” I said.
They didn’t argue.
Inside the ambulance, the lights were too bright. They made the blood look black. Tendou was already on a stretcher, oxygen mask strapped over his face. His shirt had been cut open. Tubes. Gauze. Red everywhere.
I couldn’t process how much of it there was.
They sat me down but I didn’t feel like I was sitting. My head throbbed with each heartbeat, wet warmth running down the back of my neck. One of the paramedics pressed gauze to my scalp.
“You’ve got a significant laceration,” he said. “Stay still.”
“I’m fine,” I told him automatically.
I wasn’t fine.
My heart was racing so violently I thought it might fail before his did.
They worked on Tendou quickly. Controlled movements. Compressions to his wound. IV line. Monitors attached to his chest.
The beeping started.
It was steady at first.
Too fast.
Like mine.
I leaned forward despite the hand on my shoulder.
“Help him,” I said. The words came out uneven, slurred slightly. I wasn’t sure if it was from the hit to my head or the panic rising through me like a tide.
“We are,” someone answered.
I tried to focus on Tendou’s face. His freckles looked darker against how pale he’d become. His hair was damp with sweat. He looked smaller somehow.
Fragile.
He hated that word.
The monitor made a sharp, unfamiliar sound.
The rhythm stuttered.
Then flattened.
For a second, no one moved.
And then everyone did.
“Clear.”
The word rang in the enclosed space.
My body went cold.
They shocked him. His body jerked unnaturally.
My vision tunneled.
“No,” I heard myself say. “No, no, no.”
It didn’t sound like me. It sounded like something torn from somewhere deep and unguarded.
They worked on him again. Movements urgent now.
I couldn’t breathe.
My hands were shaking uncontrollably. I didn’t even notice until someone grabbed them to keep me from interfering.
“Stay back.”
“I can’t,” I said. “He— he can’t—”
The words dissolved.
The monitor found a rhythm again.
Faint. Fragile. But there.
Relief hit so hard it made me nauseous.
He had flatlined.
He had died.
And they had brought him back.
I broke then.
I didn’t shout. I didn’t thrash. Something inside me simply collapsed. My chest caved in under the weight of it. The tears came harder than before, blurring everything until the ambulance lights smeared into red and white streaks.
My breathing turned erratic. Too fast. Too shallow.
“He needs surgery immediately,” someone said.
“Yes,” I answered, though I don’t think they were speaking to me.
I leaned forward again, delirious now, words spilling without structure.
“Please fix him. He’s important. He— he’s important. Do not let him—”
My head swam. The back of my skull burned where they’d cleaned the wound. I could feel blood crusting in my hair.
“You’ve lost a lot too,” one of them said firmly. “Stay still.”
“I don’t care.”
I meant it.
The ambulance jerked to a stop.
Doors flew open.
Cold night air rushed in.
They wheeled Tendou out first. I tried to follow immediately but my legs buckled when I stood. Someone caught me before I hit the ground.
“Another stretcher,” a voice called.
I didn’t want one.
“I can walk,” I insisted.
I couldn’t.
They lowered me onto it anyway. The sky above the hospital entrance looked impossibly calm. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as they rushed us inside.
I craned my neck to keep Tendou in sight.
He disappeared through double doors marked SURGERY.
Just like that.
Gone.
The doors swung closed and I felt something tear open inside my ribs.
They pushed me down a different hallway.
“I need to be with him,” I said.
“You need treatment.”
“I don’t—”
My words tangled. My head felt heavier with every second. The adrenaline that had been holding me upright was draining out of me, leaving nothing but shaking limbs and hollow terror.
They wheeled me into a separate room. Sat me upright. Hands moved around me again—cutting fabric, cleaning blood, examining the gash on my scalp.
I stared at the ceiling.
White.
Too white.
He had flatlined.
The thought repeated in a loop I couldn’t interrupt.
If they had been slower—
If the shot had been an inch over—
If I had reacted faster—
My heart rate monitor began beeping rapidly.
“His pulse is extremely elevated.”
“I need to see him,” I said again. My voice cracked. I didn’t try to hide it. I couldn’t hide anything anymore.
“You’re concussed,” someone told me. “You’re in shock.”
“I need to see him.”
My breathing spiraled again. The room tilted. The lights flickered at the edges of my vision.
He had smiled at me while bleeding.
He had told me I was beautiful.
I pressed my palms into my eyes but that only made the image clearer.
Flatline.
Shock.
Flatline.
The panic rose too high, too fast. My body couldn’t contain it. My chest seized, breaths refusing to come properly.
“We need to calm him down.”
A hand gripped my shoulder.
“We’re giving you something to help you rest.”
“No,” I said immediately. “I can’t sleep.”
“You need to.”
“If I sleep—”
If I sleep he might die and I won’t be there.
The words stayed inside my head, but I think they saw them on my face.
I struggled weakly when I felt the needle press into my arm. Not enough to stop it. Just enough to show I didn’t want it.
The medication spread quickly. Warm. Heavy.
“No,” I repeated, but it sounded distant now. Like it belonged to someone else.
The ceiling blurred.
My heartbeat slowed against my will.
“He can’t be alone,” I murmured. I wasn’t sure if anyone understood me.
The room dimmed.
The last thing I felt was the unbearable weight of not knowing whether Tendou was still alive.
And the crushing helplessness of being forced to close my eyes anyway.
————
When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the quiet.
Not the heavy, suffocating quiet from the street.
A softer one.
Hospital quiet.
The steady hum of machines. The faint shuffle of shoes in the hallway. The distant murmur of voices behind walls.
My head felt heavy. Not painful exactly—just wrapped, dulled. There was a tightness at the back of my scalp. Bandages. I remembered the impact. The flash of white.
Then everything else came rushing back.
Gunshot.
Blood.
Flatline.
I inhaled sharply.
“Wakatoshi.”
My mother’s voice.
I turned my head. It took more effort than it should have. She was sitting beside the bed, one hand clasped over mine. My grandmother sat on the other side, rosary beads wound around her fingers though she wasn’t moving them now.
Both of them had red-rimmed eyes.
When they saw I was awake, their relief was immediate. It filled the room.
“You’re awake,” my grandmother said, voice trembling despite her attempt at composure.
I didn’t return the greeting.
“Where is Tendou?”
The question came out before anything else. Before I asked what day it was. Before I asked about myself.
My mother squeezed my hand tighter.
“He’s sleeping,” she said carefully. “Surgery went well.”
I stared at her.
“Surgery went well,” she repeated gently. “He’s stable.”
The word stable cracked something inside me.
I leaned back against the pillow.
And I cried.
There was no stopping it. No holding it in. The sedative still in my system had thinned whatever walls I usually kept in place. The relief was too overwhelming. My body shook with it.
My mother moved immediately, leaning forward and brushing her hand through my hair—careful of the bandages.
“You did so well, baby,” she murmured.
I hadn’t heard her call me that in years.
“I couldn’t—” My voice broke. “He flatlined.”
Her expression tightened. She hadn’t known that part.
“But he didn’t stay that way,” she said softly. “He’s here.”
I pressed the heel of my hand against my eyes. It didn’t help.
They brought me water first. Then something small to eat. Crackers. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I started chewing. My hands were still faintly shaking.
“I remember their faces,” I said suddenly.
The words felt thick. Slow.
My grandmother stilled.
“The boys,” I clarified. “I remember them.”
My mother and grandmother exchanged a look I didn’t like.
“They looked at us when they ran,” I continued. “I remember them.”
My jaw tightened.
“They won’t get away with it.”
My grandmother’s hand covered mine.
“Revenge isn’t what we need right now,” she said gently. “Right now we need to be here for you. And for Tendou.”
“They shot him,” I said.
My voice was steady again. Too steady.
My mother nodded once. “And we will do everything we can to make sure justice is handled properly. But your job right now is to heal.”
Heal.
It felt secondary.
“I should have—”
“You protected him,” my mother interrupted, firm but kind. “You stayed with him. You called for help. You did everything you could.”
It didn’t feel like enough.
Not when I could still hear that flatline in my head.
⸻
A few hours later, the door opened quietly.
A doctor stepped inside.
“Ushijima?”
“Yes.”
“He’s awake,” the doctor said. “He’s asking for you.”
The air left my lungs.
I sat up too quickly. The room swayed, but I didn’t care. My mother and grandmother moved to either side of me instinctively, helping me steady myself as I swung my legs over the bed.
“I’m fine,” I insisted.
They ignored that.
The walk down the hallway felt longer than any match I’ve ever played.
When we reached his room, I paused at the door.
I don’t know why.
Maybe I was afraid that if I opened it, it would all disappear.
My grandmother squeezed my arm.
I stepped inside.
Tendou was propped up in the hospital bed. Pale. A little thinner somehow. Bandages wrapped around his side. An IV line in his arm.
But alive.
His parents sat on either side of him.
His mother stood first when she saw me.
“You must be Ushijima,” she said, voice thick with emotion.
I bowed slightly. “Yes.”
His father approached next, firm but warm handshake.
“Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t—”
“You stayed with him,” his mother interrupted gently. “He told us. He said you wouldn’t stop talking to him.”
My throat tightened.
“He loves you very much,” she added without hesitation.
Tendou made a strangled sound.
“Mooom,” he muttered, face flushing red despite how pale he already was.
Even weak and exhausted, he was still Tendou.
I exhaled shakily.
His eyes found mine.
They were dimmer than usual. Slower. But still bright in their own way.
“Ushiwaka,” he said softly, smiling. “You look terrible.”
I almost laughed.
His mother rolled her eyes fondly. “The anesthetic has made him even more ridiculous than usual. He pretended to pass out on us earlier and then laughed.”
Tendou grinned weakly. “Commitment to the bit.”
I couldn’t stop the small chuckle that escaped me.
His father stood. “We’ll give you some time.”
They squeezed Tendou’s hand gently before stepping out with my mother and grandmother. The room fell quiet.
Just us.
I moved closer to the bed. Slowly.
For a moment, I just stood there, looking at him.
“You’re alive,” I said.
“Last I checked.”
My vision blurred again.
I sat down carefully on the edge of the bed.
“You scared me,” I admitted.
His expression softened.
“You were crying,” he said quietly.
I didn’t deny it.
Before I could think about it, before I could overanalyze it like I usually would—
I leaned forward.
I buried my face into the crook of his neck.
He tensed in surprise.
I inhaled.
He smelled like antiseptic and hospital sheets and something faintly sweet that was just him.
He was warm.
Alive.
My hands fisted into the fabric of his gown gently, careful of the IV.
I exhaled slowly.
Tendou’s face burned red. I could feel it.
“Ushiwaka,” he said faintly. “Are you… are you sniffing me?”
“Yes.”
He sputtered.
I didn’t lift my head.
“I needed to know you were real,” I said.
His breathing changed. Softer.
His hand hesitated before resting lightly against my back.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured.
“I thought you died.”
The words came out without defense. Without armor.
Silence.
Then—
“I didn’t,” he said gently.
“I know.”
I lifted my head slowly.
Our faces were closer than they’d ever been.
“I love you,” I said.
There was no dramatic build-up. No speech. No preparation.
It was simply the truth.
Tendou blinked.
Once.
Twice.
For a second I wondered if the medication had finally made him hallucinate.
Then his expression broke into something soft. Unmasked.
“I was hoping you’d figure that out eventually,” he whispered.
“I nearly lost you before I said it.”
“You didn’t.”
“I know.”
He smiled faintly.
“I love you too, Ushiwaka.”
My chest tightened again—but this time it wasn’t painful.
It was full.
Carefully, giving him time to pull away if he wanted—
I leaned forward.
He met me halfway.
The kiss was soft. Careful. Not rushed. Not desperate.
Just certain.
His hand curled into the fabric of my hospital shirt weakly.
When we pulled apart, he looked dazed.
“That was worth getting shot,” he murmured.
“No,” I said immediately.
He laughed weakly.
“I’m kidding.”
I brushed my thumb gently along his cheek.
“You are not allowed to scare me like that again.”
“No promises,” he teased faintly.
“Tendou.”
He smiled.
“I’ll try.”
I leaned my forehead against his.
For the first time since the gunshot, since the ambulance, since the flatline—
I felt something close to peace.
He was alive.
He was here.
And he loved me.
That was enough.