籠の鳥

Caged Birds is a murder mystery horror set upon the fictional mountains of Kirayama. The story strives to combine psychological horror alongside hints of fantasy. Here, you'll find a list of chapters, drabbles, maps of the school and character profiles, updated alongside the progression of the story.

[candlesdance]

OT

Have been working on another story, Hero Child, which is a lot looser in terms of story and progression; it’a a mystery as well, but not a story I want to obsess over, in terms of quality control.

My blog for Hero child is over @psy-chorus.

[candlesdance]

Chapter 7: The Mystery Begins

“Nishimoto said he hid things, in the floorboards and closets and stuff,” Hinata pipes up, filling in the missing blank that Sugawara had struggled to avoid remembering—or mentioning.

“Like what?” Nishinoya is curiously calm, contrary to the wary caution of the others. “Did it say?”

“Stuff like knives,” Hinata says, and Sugawara wishes he hadn’t.

AO3. Info. Trailer.

[candlesdance]

Chapter 6: A Cursed Image

The book falls open on the same page that had given Sugawara pause in the beginning. Behind him, Kageyama carefully begins to read.

“’…I hid the knife underneath the floorboards.’” He drags his finger down, as if in disbelief of what he’s reading. “’I only have one choice.’ What the hell kind of choice is that?”

For a moment, they’re all quiet. Hinata tentatively interrupts that silence. “This is kind of scary.”

They ignore him. Kageyama keeps reading.

AO3. Info. Trailer.

Hinata and Kageyama enter the cafeteria quietly, but are still noticed.

Bokuto and a few others holler out at the pair, glad to see Kageyama okay. Kenma gives a tiny wave where he sits beside Kuroo, and Hinata eagerly returns it—perhaps a bit too eagerly, judging by the way Kageyama clicks his tongue.

The first years from either team and some of the second years are crowded at one table, but Inuoka and Fukunaga still move aside to allow Kageyama and Hinata to sit down after getting their food.

“So!” Inuoka starts, smiling at the pair. “I heard you were sick, Kageyama!”

“I feel better now,” Kageyama shrugs, eating his food at a languid pace. True to that, he no longer carries the ill, forsaken mood and pallor of earlier. “I just wish I hadn’t missed practice.”

“It’s not the flu, is it?” Yamaguchi strains to be heard, tilting himself slightly to speak across the table. The babble of voices echoes in the wide space of the cafeteria.

Kageyama chews thoughtfully. “I can’t promise it’s not.”

“That… that’s weirdly foreboding,” Yamaguchi says.

Inuoka pursues Hinata for a conversation about the latest monster hunter game, but the spiker is noticeably distracted. He keeps shooting glances toward the table of third years; after doing so several times in one minute, Kageyama stomps hard on his foot under the table. He yelps. Everyone in the vicinity glances at him.

Before long, they’re done their dinner—and so is Sugawara. Hinata watches out of the corner of his eye as he stands from the table of third years, excusing himself. They can’t hear what he’s talking about from so far away, but something Asahi says gets him to burst out laughing. Hinata squints.

Without so much as a glance toward the first years, Sugawara leaves the cafeteria.

Hinata nearly chokes in swallowing his mouthful of unchewed rice, turning to Kageyama beside him to shake his shoulder with a less than subtle “mrgh” of attention-getting noise. Across the table, Fukurodani’s middle blocker Onaga stares at him.

“A-are you choking?”

Hinata shakes his head in fervent disagreement, reaching for his bowl of miso soup. He downs the last of it and gasps as the rice goes down. “Nope!” And then, hissing in a blatant whisper directed at Kageyama: “Let’s go!”

“What the hell are you two up to?”

Unfortunately for them, their timing is terrible. Yaku passes behind them as they stand from their seats, a second portion of rice in hand.

"Nothing," Kageyama shrugs, voice and face so completely blank it's genuinely convincing. Hinata folds his hands politely behind his back and rocks on his heels.

"Nothing!" He parrots, seeming shifty even in that.

Unconvinced, Yaku turns his eyes from Hinata to Kageyama. “I heard you were ill. Are you feeling better now?”

“A bit,” Kageyama is clearly unwanting in continuing the conversation. “But I still feel sick. I was going to go get some fresh air.”

Behind them, Yamaguchi raises his eyebrows.

Hinata nods vigorously. “I was going to go with him!”

The look Kageyama shoots him gives them away, but Kuroo is calling Yaku over so he relents and accepts their shoddy excuses with a haphazard smile. “Take it easy. I always like receiving your freakish quick, so don’t wear yourselves out, alright?”

They nod. Yaku leaves them with that and turns to return to his table. Walking as quickly as they can without raising any suspicion, they exit the cafeteria. As soon as they turn a corner, Hinata turns to his setter with a laugh.

“You’re a really good liar, you know. It’s kind of scary.”

“Shut up.”

“It was kind of ruined since you already told the guys at our table that you were feeling fine, though. Plus, since when would you ever admit to feeling sick?”

Kageyama tries to smack him. He evades. They end up racing each other to the old classroom, where Sugawara stands with the keys in hand and a look of mixed amusement on his face, almost as though he wants to laugh, but can’t bring himself to.

“I thought you were going to try and be stealthy?” Sugawara asks, even as he picks through the ring of keys.

“Well, I was trying!” Hinata protests.

“I’m sure you were,” Sugawara does laugh now, though it’s dry and maybe a bit forced. “I guess it doesn’t matter as long as we get back before bed. Let’s look around a bit and then leave.”

He unlocks the door and they step inside.

—

As soon as he closes the door behind them, they split up. The opaque glass had obscured anything of interest in the room, and Sugawara has to wonder what drew Hinata here in the first place.

Although the room is full, it seems empty in the sense that there’s nothing of use here anymore. Where there might have been cameras, there sit some reels of exposed film and grunge covered textbooks, piles of notes and crumbled bits of chalk. Sugawara stifles a sneeze.

Kageyama wanders over to a bookshelf, and Sugawara and Hinata end up scrounging through the old desks. Minutes of silence pass undisturbed; maybe they’d used up all of their energy getting here, but neither Hinata nor Kageyama say anything, both boys taking to different artifacts curiously. Sugawara doesn’t question them.

Hinata is examining what looks like scrap notebooks. There’s no real merit to digging around like this—and he’s truly digging, without any rhyme or reason to his methods of searching—but he’s focused, just as much as he’d be during a volleyball game. Sugawara had initially thought that perhaps he was searching for a specific object, but it's clear now that he isn't seeking out anything in particular.

“Hmm, this one is older than the others,” Hinata says, holding up a ratty, dog-eared book. The frame of the binder is peeling away in places, the leather spine covered in cracks. It must have been somebody’s beloved book in the past.

“Did you look inside?” Sugawara asks him, stepping past some rolled up papers to peer over his shoulder. Kageyama doesn’t even look up from the photography albums on his lap.

“Nope,” Hinata chirps, carefully opening the cover. “It’s so old.”

There’s a hand drawn circle of some sort on the very first page that gives them both pause. It looks like a pentagram at first glance, but that isn’t quite right. There’s three words scribbled in the outermost circle in a language he doesn’t know, and there is more writing in the middle of what appears to be a pyramid. Underneath, there’s something written in roman characters.

“This isn’t English… what is this?” Hinata asks.

“I can’t recognize it…”

“You can’t tell either, Sugawara?”

“Well, it’s definitely the roman alphabet,” He shrugs, straining to see it. “Here, let me see?”

The book is carefully passed between the two. Further inspection proves that the circle that Sugawara had assumed to be a pentagram is—well, it’s not a pentagram. It isn’t necessarily satanic in nature, but there’s still something weird about it.

“What is that creepy scribble?”

Sugawara and Hinata both jump. Kageyama had grown bored of the photo albums, evidently, and had snuck up behind Sugawara to peer over his shoulder. Hinata had been too absorbed to notice him.

“Geez, Kageyama, don’t sneak up on people like that! It’s rude!”

“Shut up, I was right in front of you.”

“I would have noticed if you weren’t being sneaky ,” Hinata sticks his tongue out at him and for that, Kageyama glares daggers at him. “But you’re right. That drawing is creepy.”

They fall silent, peering at it. Bored with the circle, Hinata reaches over Sugawara to flip the page for him.

“What a dirty book,” Kageyama comments idly, crowding around his upper classmate. “Gross.”

"You make it sound like it’s a perverted magazine," Hinata chastises him. “Choose your words more carefully!”

“I thought you said it was in English?” Kageyama ignores Hinata entirely. Sugawara examines the book, befuddled by the question. The second page is in Japanese; it seems like a journal of some sort.

“No, I said it’s definitely not English,” Sugawara murmurs, flipping through the pages.

“What is it? A diary?” Hinata asks, screwing up his face into a concentrated squint as he attempts to work out the text from upside down. “What does it say?”

“...?”

Something catches Sugawara’s eye. He pauses in flipping the pages to scan a passage.

“... I think this is a journal from one of the former students,” He says slowly, flipping back to the first few pages. Behind him, Kageyama makes a noise of dissatisfaction. He’d probably been trying to read what was on the other page. Sugawara is silent, so Hinata prompts him with an imploring look and a whine. He rolls his eyes, but begins to read aloud.

“… this is by ‘Nishimoto Mori’, … ‘my world with crumbing lenses.’ Huh?”

“Are you reading that right?” Kageyama asks, reaching around his vice captain to tap the scrawled letters. “’My life is ruined’. And then ‘here’s my story’. Isn’t that what it says?”

“You’re right,” Sugawara turns to blink at him, impressed. “This is written brokenly. I’m surprised you were able to parse that.”

Kageyama shrugs, but his ears go red. Sugawara turns back to the book and continues to read.

“’This school is boring. We were told by our teachers to keep journals to occupy ourselves, but I don’t really like it.’ Hmm… Kageyama, can you read this?” Sugawara taps a passage he finds illegible. The writing is not only smudged, but also written as though by a young child.

“‘The transfer student is loved by everyone’,” Kageyama answers, squinting down at it. “’I don’t know about her’.”

“That’s weird,” Hinata seems dubious. “Is that really what it says?”

“Yeah,” Sugawara nods, eyes roving across the idle writings. “Huh. This is kind of neat.”

“Like a time capsule,” Hinata grins. “I told you we might find something cool!”

Sugawara doesn’t respond to that—he just gives Hinata a smile in return before continuing reading aloud. “’The teachers are strict but they don’t check our notebooks’. And ‘the new girl talks a lot during lunch. Somehow, everyone listens’.”

“What are they, ten years old?” Kageyama mutters, squinting at the characters

.

“I don’t think so. This was a high school,” Sugawara replies to the rhetorical remark seriously, preoccupied with the text.

“Then it was written by an idiot,” Kageyama decides.

“Maybe that’s why you can read it so easily,” Hinata teases, getting an indignant huff from Kageyama. Sugawara flaps an annoyed hand and shushes them before they can devolve into bickering.

“This is just a boring recounting of the first few days of classes…” He flips through the pages until he finds something else—something that seems peculiar enough to read out.

“’This school is strange. I was told by one of my peers that someone once hung themselves in the third gym, but it’s brand new. I don’t think anyone hung themselves there’.”

Kageyama and Hinata fall silent, sharing a look with one another.

“’The headmistress is kind. I thought she would tell me to go away when I reported these things, but she took me seriously. She told me not to worry about it. These are just rumors. I won’t listen to them’.”

Sugawara hesitates and scans the next few lines before speaking them aloud.

“’I do want to go home. At night, the wooden floorboards squeak. We are not allowed to wander. But I hear someone walking around after curfew. Are they just messing with me’?”

Sugawara lifts his head and scowls, stopping there. “We… we shouldn’t read this.”

“Keep going!” Hinata urges, bouncing on the balls of his feet. His excitement is offbeat and misplaced, seeming an odd contrast to the uneasy atmosphere in the room.

“Doesn’t this bother you?” Sugawara asks, dumbstruck.

“It’s just a book!” Hinata says, usually loud voice sounding even louder in the quiet of the classroom. “We can’t stop here.”

“I kind of want to keep going, too,” Kageyama admits, lips pressed into a thin line. Despite his own curiosity, Sugawara is still hesitant. He doesn’t want to, but between the two of them, it’s not like he can say no. He reluctantly turns back to the book, flipping to the next entry.

“There’s only one line for this date,” Sugawara mutters, prompting Hinata to stand on tip toes to see so for himself.

“What does it say?” Hinata questions.

“’Akira told stories in our reading class again. Everyone listened, but I didn’t want to.’”

“That’s weird.” Kageyama is as blunt as ever.

Hinata gives a nervous smile and nods, agreeing with him, but curious all the same. “What were the stories?”

“It doesn’t say. Maybe they were rumors,” Sugawara offers, flipping through the book. There’s another page, like the last, with just a single line written in the middle. “’They knocked my lunch over and put cicadas in my slippers.’”

“Eh?” Hinata is plainly confused. “… why would they put cicadas in his shoes?”

“That’s what you pay attention to?” Kageyama gives him a disgusted look behind their upper classmate’s back, baiting him. “Are you an idiot?”

“No! Well, I mean it seriously. Why would they do that? Is there more, Sugawara?” He asks, as persistent as ever.

“’I found a bird in my cupboard. It ruined my school uniform’. This is...”

“There’s got to be more. Look,” Gripped with a frantic desire to uncover more, Kageyama flips to the next passage. Silence settles over them for a moment as he and Sugawara read it, Hinata fidgeting in impatience. “‘Akira wrote a message for me on the chalkboard: it told me to go home’. What the hell does that mean?”

“Go home,” Hinata parrots. “Didn’t they mention wanting to go home?”

The next few lines are scribbled out, ink smeared across the messy scrawl of writing. It’s barely legible at all. “’The world’s setting sun grows cold. The rotten trees reach the sky and touch the moon’—I think this next part is a poem,” Sugawara continues, turning to look to Kageyama for approval.

“I think so,” He nods.

“This is weird,” Hinata butts in, going still. “I don’t really get it. Maybe we should just put it back.”

Both Sugawara and Kageyama look up and fix him with a perplexed stare. The sudden drop in interest is unusual—Kageyama can’t ignore it. “Seriously? You’re the one who wanted to look through this thing in the first place.”

“I can’t even read it from here,” He says, making it clear that he simply feels excluded—or perhaps teased, like they’re making it all up as they go along.

The younger setter rolls his eyes, exasperated. “You’re not missing out on anything.”

“A lot of it is boring,” Sugawara quietly agrees. “You can look at it after, if you don’t believe us.”

Hinata huffs, but he doesn’t argue further. “… I guess.”

Sugawara hums idly as he and Kageyama struggle to read the rest of the poem. “… ‘understanding is given to life…’? That doesn’t sound right.”

“’Magic held close becomes the truth’. That’s this line,” Kageyama taps the paper where Hinata can’t see.

“’This was the summer story Akira told us’,” Sugawara reads, giving an appreciative murmur of realization. “ Oh. So the stories were really just poems?”

“I dunno if it’s a poem,” Kageyama’s lack of patience has him scowling, frustrated with his inability to understand the journal’s contents. “I don’t get it.”

“Okay, so maybe it’s not a poem,” Discontent with that answer, Sugawara flips the page. “This is dated the same as the story. ’Today, I thought I’d go see the teachers. I thought if I spoke to them something would change’. Oh… ‘nothing did’.”

“I guess it didn’t help the bullying in the end.”

Kageyama’s hushed words hang in the air. Hinata’s mouth falls open in surprise, like he hadn’t expected Kageyama to actually say it—like he’d hoped that they could just continue pretending that it’s a story, not a disturbing retelling of a high school boy’s life.

What they’re reading is sad, and how they’re reading it is unforgivably cruel—like it’s cheap entertainment, or a mystery to be solved. Sugawara has nothing to say for himself. Without turning any more pages, he rethinks what they’d read.

It was obvious. There were probably more explicit clues in the diary, but they hadn’t had the patience to read in depth. The cicadas, the bird in his cubby, everything. He feels guilty for flipping through the pages as if it were a magazine, searching for the parts that caught his interest.

“This is messed up.” Kageyama reaches past him to flip through the diary, and Sugawara’s hand snaps out to stop him midway, something catching his eye.

The book falls open on the same page that had given Sugawara pause in the beginning. Behind him, Kageyama carefully begins to read.

“’…I hid the knife underneath the floorboards.’” He drags his finger down, as if in disbelief of what he’s reading. “’I only have one choice.’ What the hell kind of choice is that?”

For a moment, they’re all quiet. Hinata tentatively interrupts that silence. “This is kind of scary.”

They ignore him. Kageyama keeps reading.

“’If I hide in the showers, it’s no good. If I miss role call, it’s no good. The doors are chained when we sleep. If I break a chain, the noise will wake the others, so it’s no good. To hide I’ll have to be outside. To be outside I’ll have to have a reason. If I…’ I can’t read this. It’s smeared.”

Sugawara finds the next legible text and reads that. “’I’ll put it in the storage closet’. I can’t tell what he’s referring to… ‘And this in the photography room’. I think he means the journal…? Then ‘Akira is it’. That’s the last line.”

Kageyama flips through the book, but there’s no other text. The rest of it is empty.

“Is… is that it?” Hinata asks, peeking through his hands.

“I think—whoa,” Kageyama freezes as he flutters through a few blank pages and finds one with a polaroid taped to it, picturing the front of the school draped in snow. Underneath, it reads: I knew as soon as I saw it .

That isn’t it. There’s more and more pictures, the probable cause of the book’s heft. One of the hallways, filled with students. A young girl holding a book and reading in front of the classroom. A few smiling students stood underneath a cherry tree, covered in dappled shadows. It reads Nishimoto, Misaoto and Mirai underneath.

None of the pictures depict anything strange, but they’re eerie anyway. There’s a gradual shift in the pictures, more taken of people’s backs and not their faces, some unfocused and some far off, distant. If Sugawara didn’t know any better, he’d think of it as some kind of art project. The pictures are gorgeous, even for their age. That doesn’t change how strange they are.

Eventually, the photographs lose their beauty. The subject is blurred, or unsure. There’s pictures of the ground and nothing else. Another photo gives him pause—it’s of a tree. It seems to be of the tree in the courtyard. It’s hardly recognizable because it’s in bloom, but Sugawara is somehow sure of it. He glances at Hinata, expecting him to notice and perhaps comment on it, but he doesn’t.

The caption reads my summer’s story. Sugawara studies the page.

Kageyama speaks up before he can. “There’s something up with the picture.”

It’s warped from water damage, Sugawara realizes. Reaching past him, Kageyama touches it. “Huh.” He picks at the edge, trying to pry it free from the page. It’s taped on the bottom and the top—he removes the piece from the top, and flips it down.

There’s a scribbled drawing of another pentagram on the back of the photo. It’s a bit different from the one on the first page, but there’s no mistaking it. None of them say anything for a moment, unsure how to address it. It makes the hair on the back of Sugawara’s neck stand up. This isn’t something they should look at, and he doesn’t know why he feels that way, but the feeling is so suddenly intense that it makes him want to cringe away.

There’s something written in a messy scrawl underneath it, so he focuses on that, instead. No one says anything about the drawing.

“’I thought I could fix it on my own. Now all I have is this’.”

“This?” Hinata asks, fascination warped with confusion. “What’s ‘this’? The circle?”

“He could mean the book itself,” Sugawara says, avoiding looking at the drawing. He flips the photo back up and puzzles over it, trying to understand the meaning.

“All I have left is ‘my summer’s story’?” Kageyama suggests, dragging a hand through his hair. “It sounds like what we read earlier, about her ‘summer stories’.”

“But he hated her stories,” Sugawara says, precariously. “And, these photos… I don’t know; it might just be me, but I think they’re pretty good.” In front of him, Hinata tilts his head. “I mean—they’re taken well. He’s skilled. There’s so many… and this journal is here, in the photography room. Don’t you think it’s probably something he liked doing?”

“Oh,” Kageyama says, flattening his mussed hair. “So, you’re saying he wouldn’t mix her stuff with his pictures?”

“Yeah,” Sugawara nods, flipping the page. “It’s got to be something of his.”

“We should check the other photos, too. There might be more.”

Following Kageyama’s suggestion, Sugawara returns to the previous polaroids—but most are glued down, not taped, and those that aren’t have nothing underneath them. He flips through the rest of the pictures, but the book ends with just a few blank pages. There’s nothing else of note. Sugawara heaves a nearly relieved sigh.

Having seen them reach the end, Hinata holds out his hands imploringly. Sugawara is quick to oblige him, handing it off as if passing him something disgusting. Hinata’s persistent cheeriness is incredibly atypical when compared to the mood of the room, and Sugawara can’t help but think that it’s his own way of dealing with it. Allowing him to read in peace, the two other boys settle down at one of the abandoned desks, silently brooding.

After a minute or two of grinding teeth, Kageyama speaks up. “It’s bugging me.”

“What is?”

“I don’t know,” he sighs, weighted and exhausted. Sugawara realizes that the healthy flush that Kageyama had regained is long gone, lost to a pallor that makes him look sickly. The tremble to his intertwined fingers is barely perceptible, but present. “I guess all of it. I don’t know, it just… it feels like we read something we weren’t supposed to.”

“What do you…” The older setter swallows, nervousness bringing about a cold sweat. He thinks about the drawings. “What do you mean? Which part?”

“Like I said, all of it,” Kageyama snaps, frustration and sickness taking an obvious toll on his patience. “I’ve felt uneasy ever since we opened the book.”

“Kageyama, you don’t… this doesn’t have anything to do with how you felt on the way up, does it?”

“I…” Kageyama runs his hands through his hair again and then brings them down to the table, clenching them into fists. “It’s the only thing that makes sense to me.”

For one heart shattering beat, Sugawara really has nothing to say. He can’t comfort him again, not when he doesn’t believe it himself. The entire book reeks of bad omens. The mentions of bullying and the vague, obscure sounding poetry combined with the eerie degradation of the quality of the photography alongside the circles were all grim signs.

He wants to laugh at it. He should be able to laugh at it. But this is too serious to ignore or shrug off.

The tense silence doesn’t last long. Sugawara is just opening his mouth to spill out half-hearted comforts when Hinata runs over to the table and slams the open book down in front of them. The forbidding circle from the first page stares up at them, seeming to glint maliciously. Sugawara averts his eyes.

“Look at this again!” Hinata says, excitement seeming strange in the grim atmosphere of the small room—too bright, too cheery. “Guess what? I figured something out!”

Kageyama sighs, obviously struggling not to yell at him. “Pipe down before someone hears you, dumbass.”

“This writing isn’t by Nishimoto!”

“Huh?”

“Look," Hinata taps the scrawled writing underneath. “It’s all neat and tidy, when the rest is all messy. It’s different!”

Having thought Hinata might have been getting somewhere, Kageyama’s disappointment is explosive. “You’re such an idiot! It’s written in the alphabet, so of course it’s gonna look different.”

“Shut up! Tell me something that you noticed if you’re so smart! All you do is complain.”

“Dumbass. You’re an absolute dumbass.” Kageyama is sweating. If his sickness wasn’t clear to Hinata, then it is to Sugawara. It’s only getting worse.

“You’re just angry I noticed something that you didn’t!”

“Hinata,” Sugawara cuts him off before he can continue. “Stop. Arguing isn’t going to solve anything. This is serious. ”

“I know it’s serious,” The younger teen blurts. Both Sugawara and Kageyama can only stare. Hinata stares back with an intense, challenging gaze. He seems determined to get to the bottom of the mystery.

He turns around, walks through the mess, and squats to dig through more books, as stubborn as always. Sugawara watches him for a moment longer before heaving a sigh, drained of energy. If he wants to keep looking, then there’s not a lot Sugawara can do to stop him.

“Let’s keep this to ourselves,” Sugawara says, firmly. “The others might also… take this really seriously.”

“I don’t think they’d believe us unless we showed them this,” Kageyama mumbles, picking up the journal. He turns the page, obscuring the ugly scribble from their sight. “…I’ve read it myself, but even I still don’t really understand.”

“I think it’s a journal from a bullied boy,” Sugawara says. “And I don’t think we had any business reading it.”

“He’s probably long gone now, though,” Kageyama shrugs, flipping idly through the pages. “… it’s not about that. It just gives me the creeps.”

Sugawara raises his head and watches as Hinata picks his way through the junk in the room, carrying what looks like an album in his arms. He drops it onto the table and watches proudly as Sugawara drags it closer to inspect it.

“What is this…?”

Kageyama squints at it. “I was looking through that earlier.”

“Read the label on the side,” Hinata insists. Sugawara is befuddled, but he obeys, checking the label on the binder’s spine.

“’Nishimoto’… this is his? This entire album?”

“Yeah!” Hinata gestures toward it, obviously eager for Sugawara to open it. He rolls his eyes but gives in, because even though he’d said himself that they’d had no business in prying, he’s too curious to deny himself a look. And it’s not like this is a diary, this time.

Inside, the pictures are more of the same. Some are more mediocre than he’d expected, but others are spectacularly artful. There’s almost no text to accompany the many photographs, but they tell their own story—again, matching the dates of the diary, the pictures gradually lose focus and precision. Photographs of snow covered trees and wildlife, students silhouetted against the shining sun—the gorgeous frames make way for murky skies and unsure looking puddles of rain, blurred, as though taken hastily.

Sugawara isn’t interested, and Kageyama isn’t either, judging by the firm glare he’s giving the opposing wall. He closes the album and pushes it back toward Hinata, feeling sick to his stomach.

“We should go,” he suggests, throat dry. “I have to return the keys to Daichi.”

Hinata wilts. It’s obvious that what they’ve found has disappointed him, despite the fact that he was the one who wanted to come here in the first place. Or perhaps it’s not the mystery of the diary itself, but the reluctance of his friends to investigate further. Either way, he gives up on it, and nods.

“… I guess!” He’s pouting, put out. “Kageyama, you should probably rest more! You look sicker than before.”

“And who’s fault is that?” He grumbles, chair squealing as he stands from the table. “This place gives me the creeps. Let’s hurry up and get out of here already.”

Hinata picks up the book—and turns to leave with it. Sugawara gapes. “Hey! Leave that here.”

“What?” Hinata stares. “Why?”

“First, we’re not supposed to be here,” He admonishes him in hushed tones, heart beating a mile a minute. “You—maybe you didn’t catch it, but I already said we shouldn’t tell anyone else about this.”

Hinata seems puzzled. “We shouldn’t?”

“No,” Sugawara agrees. “We shouldn’t.”

Kageyama crosses his arms and scowls. “Put that down so we can go.”

Hinata does, though with great reluctance; like a kicked, scolded puppy, he settles it down on top of the table he’s closest to, eyes lingering on it even as he begins to walk away, steps slow. He’s probably expecting Sugawara to sigh and say fine, just take it! But when he realizes that’s not going to happen, he sighs and hurries out of the room.

Sugawara takes care to lock the door behind them, unenthused with the idea of Hinata returning to sneak the book out. For an extra measure, he tries the knob; it stays stiffly unmoving. It’s enough to reassure him.

Kageyama and Hinata split up from Sugawara. “Don’t sneak around anymore,” He advises, trying not to sound too stern. Even if he feels uneasy because of the book, he doesn’t want to show it in front of them any more than he already has. “Just get to the showers and then head up to our room.”

Sugawara doesn’t head up immediately, himself. There’s a restlessness deep in his bones; he finds himself drawn to the courtyard, where he pauses in front of the rows of windows to peer outside, at the tree.

It’s definitely the same one from the photos. Did Nishimoto spend his highschool days quietly sitting underneath it…? Even if he took photos of it, they didn’t seem to hold any type of cherished memory. Sugawara thinks about the circle that he’d avoided looking at, and the ominous message that went with it.

He suppresses a shudder.

It’s still cold in the hallways. Sugawara hates the miserable weather; it doesn’t look like it’s going to clear up any time soon. He just hopes it doesn’t rain.

It’s probably best if he heads up to the dorms to get settled into bed—staying out any longer might look suspicious. He’d even lectured the first years about discreetly hurrying to their dorm, so it doesn’t look good for him to avoid it himself.

Sugawara doesn’t run into anyone else on his way upstairs.

The second floor should be quiet other than the insistent howling of the wind outside, but when he opens the door to head inside, he stops short. He closes the door instead of entering the room, and a sudden thunk startles him.

Sugawara looks for the source of the noise and finds his eyes drawn to the brass ornament swaying from the doorknob.

That feeling of inexplicable dread crawls up his back as he watches it spin in place. It comes to a stop, and he draws it as close as the thin chain tying it to the knob allows him to.

There’s no doubt about it. It’s a charm with a circle etched into the metal, done in the same style as the pentagrams they’d seen in Nishimoto’s journal.

“Wh...what is this?”

Sugawara can’t take his eyes off of it. How had he never noticed this before? It was something that stood out from the rest of the school—no other doors had charms like this, and no other art existed like these circles. He can’t fathom as to why it’s here or what it means, but he has a feeling it’s nothing good.

There’s no way he can leave it on the door, not having seen Nishimoto’s writings. It’s probably been here for a while—probably since the school was vacated. Sugawara looks around for people, and then unhooks the chain it’s hanging from on the knob and pulls it off.

He stands back and stares at the door. Nothing has really changed except its appearance, but… standing here with the creepy charm in his hand, something feels different.

Sugawara shakes his head free of worries and opens the door.

[candlesdance]

Follow up!

Addendum to the previous post:

After a few hours of hard work, the timeline has been completed through sheer force of will. See you guys in the next update.

[candlesdance]

A little update

Due to the precarious nature of the plot, I’ve been revisiting the timeline of the story in order to hash out when things happen. Because of this, I’ve been kind of stuck in place--the writing is happening and the plot is all there and ready to go, but it’s a bit difficult to write when I’m not sure when events should happen.

The delay has been over a month or so now but I just wanted to make it clear that I’m still writing the story! There’s more details below, just me rambling.

A lot of the “events” that occur depend on what happened before, and what will happen after. If the story is going to make logical sense from a psychological standpoint once you step back from it to examine the character’s thought processes, (which is essential when it comes to mysteries, imo) then when things happen is major. 

Since I don’t want any plot holes (from previous experiences I know that I get hung up on it) it takes a lot of planning beforehand. It’s also hard for me to throw away previous ideas I’ve clung to; for example, if I want to replan a scene freely, then I probably also need to revisit the following scenes, too, in order for things to connect properly. Everything ties together.

Planning the timeline has made me realize what a massive project this is. Not just because of the nature of the story--but because every little detail matters. The order of events is crucial and it’s fucking killing me. It’s such a basic thing that I can’t simply let it go, either. 

[candlesdance]

Chapter 6 is happening! I’m gradually working on it.

[candlesdance]

Tmw you realize you’re not even a quarter through the story and have much, MUCH more to write, not even counting the three other story arcs. God, just buckle up.

[candlesdance]

On Hold

My internet has been out because I’ve been busy moving; should be settled in the new house (and thus have time to write) by Friday or Saturday, but I’m not counting on anything, since I’ve also come down with a cold!

[candlesdance]

Chapter 5: A Secret and a Promise

“Daichi,” Sugawara whispers, turning in his seat. “I need to ask you for a favor. Can you keep it a secret?”

AO3. Discussion. Trailer.

Sugawara wakes up cold.

Frigid, rocky shores, the flutter of white curtains, and the shining sun reflecting bright and cheery off the surface of a lake—these vague, blurry recollections come up, but the emotions he had felt during his dream remain buried. He wipes away any lingering trace of tears, wondering if he had made noise during his sleep.

Pulling his covers aside, Sugawara sits up, eyes scanning across the sleeping forms of his teammates; some still, some fidgeting and restless, even in slumber. Murky clouds make the room a wash of gray, the dull light seeming a stark contrast to the shining afternoon of yesterday. The forecast hadn’t mentioned any rain, so he supposes it will clear up soon. Still… as much as he likes to believe that the bright blue of the sky will show itself, the clouds cast him in a shadow of doubt.

Shivering faintly, Sugawara wraps his blanket around his shoulders. It’s awfully cold. He swallows thickly, feeling sick. It reminds him of something. Of something he’s felt before, a similar sensation—an emotion that had risen during the trip here.

Though he had shown no hint of his faint heart, the things their younger setter had said had shaken him up. Comforting Kageyama had been a feat in his strength of will—if he hadn’t later admitted to Daichi how creepy he had found it all, he probably would have succumbed to it and ended up showing his own doubt openly. Sugawara isn’t a particularly cowardly person, but he is vulnerable to uncertainty and anxiety all the same.

He pulls the blanket around his shoulders closer, shivering faintly. Tsukishima had seemed disturbed by the talk even though he had made a show of teasing Kageyama for it. Sugawara had the sense that it wasn’t so easy for Tsukishima to make light of it, but in the end, he had righted himself rather quickly.

There was no reason to fear the mountain, but the shadow of the trees and the secluded nature were all a person needed to become restless here. It was a baseless sensation—it was the feeling of eyes on your back, the dislike of darkness after watching a scary movie. Kageyama’s voicing of that indistinct emotion was all it took to send shivers crawling up and down Sugawara’s spine.

The more Sugawara thinks about it, the worse he feels. Eventually, he reluctantly drags himself from his futon. As he had expected, the chilly morning air bites deep into his skin, sending gooseflesh rising up and down his arms. He’s the first one up. He has no clue what time it is so he makes sure to keep quiet as he gathers up a change of clothing and heads to the showers.

By the time he returns, the rest of the team has already begun to stir. Nishinoya is wide awake, making no attempts to stay silent as he tromps around gathering his things. Comforted by his teammate’s presence, Sugawara forgets the conversation of yesterday, focusing on what they’re to do today instead.

Breakfast is a hasty affair. Everyone seems energized and ready to train, unaffected by the gloom of the sky or untoward thoughts. A glance toward Kageyama confirms that he’s just as he always is, passively grumbling at Hinata’s side—he’s fine, if not a little pale. Perhaps he had also felt the affects of the chill in their room.

They finish with breakfast, tidy up, hear a word from Takeda, and go to the gym to start practice for the day. They set up the nets: Kageyama is fine. They warm up: Kageyama is fine. They begin a practice match: and Kageyama is fine, at least in the beginning.

Sugawara is still fighting his unfounded apprehensions, denying that anything is wrong when he notices that, unsurprisingly enough, something is genuinely wrong.

Sugawara isn’t like Nishinoya or Kageyama, but he has keen senses. He draws conclusions based on reason, on proof and on logic, and he is, most of all, observational. He notices details that other people don’t notice, his eyes tuned to carefully dissect what’s in front of him. After all, when he’s on the sideline of a match, it’s all he has.

He notices that although they’ve been training for just over an hour now—they’re on the second round of their first match—Kageyama is still pale. The people around him are flushed and panting and Kageyama is as white as a ghost, pale and wheezing. He shouldn’t look the way he looks.

Sugawara sees it coming before Kageyama does. His pallor grows and, as if in slow motion, Kageyama stops, ignores the volleyball he is to set, and runs off through the open door into the courtyard to hurl in some bushes.

Panicked shouts ring in the wide gym, Hinata inadvertently drawing everyone’s attention. He runs after Kageyama, shouting all the while. Kiyoko follows after him and then, crouching by Kageyama’s side, helps him to his feet. Takeda is stammering something and it takes a loud word from Ukai to remind him that panicking will do him no good before he stops. Hinata gets yelled at and is told to leave Kageyama alone—also by Ukai, who seems exasperated by the sudden dramatics.

Sugawara turns to Daichi, seeking—what, he doesn’t know—and meets eyes alight with worry, mirroring his own.

“This isn’t good,” Daichi mutters, just loud enough for Sugawara to hear. Everyone else is watching, either talking to their friends or standing silent and still. No one has continued to play. Takeda is talking to Kageyama; Sugawara can’t hear them from across the gym so all he can do is watch as Kageyama goes from woozy to irate, no doubt upset by something Takeda has said.

“Whoa,” Asahi’s voice is a trembling whisper from where he stands beside Tanaka, not too far from the captain and vice captain. “Kageyama looks mad.”

Sugawara sighs in exasperation, running a hand through his hair. He turns to Daichi and is greeted with an anticipated look. He doesn’t need to say anything. Sugawara nods, heading off toward the three where they stand by the open doors to the courtyard.

Guilt gnaws at his insides; Sugawara wonders if he should have intervened beforehand, if he should have pointed out Kageyama’s sickness and maybe even told him to stay in bed—or to stay at home. He wonders if he should have kept him from getting on the bus at all. But it’s too late to feel guilty.

Sugawara cuts across the gym to Kageyama’s side where Kiyoko is patting his back and looking worriedly between Takeda and the ill setter. Her head jerks up as Sugawara approaches and relief softens her features.

“… you need to stay in the infirmary for a while to get some rest. It’s not permanent—”

“I can still play!” Kageyama protests, but he’s pale and trembling, clearly unfit for the harsh exertion of practice. “I’m fine!”

“You’re not fine,” There’s the telltale dip to Takeda’s tone, the dropping of an octave. His impatience is obvious. He doesn’t want to be fought on this, that much is clear. “You need to rest. If it’s a fever, then we need to take care of it.”

Takeda notices Sugawara and gives a surprised smile, seeming just as relieved as Kiyoko. Sugawara realizes the expectancy in Takeda’s silence, that the lapse in their teacher’s scolding is his que to jump in and add onto what he’s already said.

“You need to rest, Kageyama,” Sugawara says, not missing the way Takeda’s shoulders relax. He hates arguing, after all. “It’s not like you’ll be cooped up for the entire time we’re here. Relax, okay? You’re shaking.”

Kiyoko shifts as Sugawara gets closer, allowing him to brush away Kageyama’s bangs to place a cool hand against his forehead. “Hmm,” he murmurs, considering. The setter makes no move to shrug him off or shy away, seeming more complacent than before. Perhaps he’s simply tired. “You don’t have a fever, so…”

Behind him, he hears the coaches rallying the kids, Ukai and Nekomata loudly chiding them for gawking. Play resumes as if there had been no pause at all. Sugawara isn’t sure, but he thinks he hears Kageyama’s teeth grinding.

“Let’s make sure it doesn’t become a fever, alright? The best case scenario is you’re out for a few matches, until you’re well enough. The worse case scenario is that you get sent home.”

Kageyama pales further, if that were even possible. It’s a warning, and Kageyama has caught onto it. Kiyoko and Takeda seem ignorant of the subtle threat.

“… it’s really for your own good,” Takeda says, finally speaking up again.

“Let’s go to the infirmary,” Kiyoko chimes in, a hand on Kageyama’s back and the other on his arm to steady him. Sugawara thinks that if it were Nishinoya or Tanaka, they’d probably be milking her careful attentions. “You want to get back and play as soon as possible, right?”

It’s a question. Kageyama allows her to guide him and answers under his breath, “… o-of course.”

They get a few stares as they make their way out of the gym, Takeda leading them out. Sugawara finds the procession unnecessary and perhaps less helpful than they’d like to think. Takeda turns to him, noticing his following. He looks slightly guilty.

“Oh—sorry, Sugawara. You can return to practice. We’re alright from here, I think,” Takeda says, glancing worriedly at Kageyama as he and Kiyoko walk on ahead.

“Thank you,” is all Sugawara says, giving a stiff bow and a stiffer smile, feeling awkward and forced. “Feel better soon, Kageyama.”

Sugawara… turns away, feeling unwell with it.

Considering the circumstances of Kageyama’s late arrival yesterday, his illness now shouldn’t surprise any of them. It’s strange that it has persisted to this point, but there’s nothing strictly unusual about it. Sugawara is guessing that Kageyama had been unwell for days before the trip—maybe even longer than that.

He slows his pace, looking out of the windows and into the courtyard, where the gloomy sky twists and spirals above the mountain. The sun has yet to show itself, hidden behind clouds that are charcoal gray, oppressive and heavy.

Maybe they won’t see the sun at all today.

He stops in place, biting his lip. The wind seems to be picking up outside; the tree in the yard is swaying faintly, grass rippling in slow tides. The cold metal of the fence gleams menacingly, the spiked wrought iron looking jagged and mean in the afternoon darkness.

He has the sense that the conversation they’d had on the bus has something to do with Kageyama’s illness, but that’s foolish.

Sugawara gives a violent shake of the head and hurries back to the gym, deciding to talk to Kageyama about it later, to check up on him. Making baseless assumptions was unlike him. Kageyama was ill because he had over-exerted himself. Sugawara needs to stop over thinking things; at this rate, it’ll be the death of him.

When Sugawara returns, he finds his and Nekoma’s team paused for a break, their practice match over and done with. It seems like Nishinoya had played as setter during Sugawara’s brief absence; their match had nearly been over when Kageyama had grown ill, after all. Fukurodani is stretching and running laps; Daichi is standing with Kuroo, so Sugawara makes his way over to the two.

“Hey,” Kuroo calls out to him as soon as he catches his eye. “How’s Kageyama?”

“Well—he’s still exhausted, I think. From before.”

“Ah, you mentioned that,” Kuroo nods studiously, crossing his arms with a pensive twist to his lip. He seems interested. “Wasn’t it heat stroke?”

“It was really bad!” Hinata butts in, striding over from the benches. “He almost threw up, then. This time he really did throw up.” He sticks his tongue out, mockingly disgusted. Kuroo gives him a laugh for it.

“Hah—but I doubt it’s just that, after all. Mountains sure can make you sick~”

“They can make you sick?” Hinata tilts his head to peer at Kuroo with an inquisitive look of wonder. He doesn’t understand what Kuroo means—and neither does Sugawara or Daichi, judging by the blank staring. “What do you mean?”

“It’s probably hypoxia,” Kuroo shrugs, as if that’s an obvious conclusion to come to. Sugawara remembers it as something he’d heard about in biology, but his memories are fuzzy and vague.

“What’s that?” Hinata asks, nonplussed. He doesn’t pretend to know, and urges for an answer with a simply worded question and an intense stare. Sugawara fixes a steady gaze on Kuroo, just as curious for further explanation.

“Altitude sickness,” He says, smiling over Hinata’s shoulder at Kenma, who shuffles closer from the benches. “You know. Oxygen deprivation of the brain.”

“Kageyama’s brain is oxygen deprived?” Hinata asks, stepping aside to let Kenma into their little circle. After a moment of considering: “I could have told you that.”

Kuroo presses his lips together in a thin line, shaking his head. “We’re all in the same state, you know. It’s probably just affecting him more because he was sick.”

“That would have caused his nausea,” Kenma murmurs sheepishly. When everyone turns to look at him, he shyly ducks his head. Kuroo seems surprised, and when the silence continues without interruption, Kenma explains further. “… when you learned about it in class, you didn’t stop talking about it.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo grins toothily, puffing up his chest proudly—apparently pleased with Kenma’s remembrance. “It’s really interesting what happens to your head when you’re stuck too far below—or too far above ground.”

“All he did was throw up,” Hinata sticks his lower lip out, peevishly. “It’s not that special.”

“What happens if you’re higher up than even this?” Sugawara asks, the group collectively ignoring Hinata’s mock sulkiness. “Sorry. I remember some of the details from class, but…”

“Nausea, delirium, fatigue, hallucinations… there’s a lot of stuff, depending on the circumstances. Oh, headaches, too—of course. Happens during altitude changes.”

“I think I know what you mean. I once got a splitting headache while on a plane,” Daichi sighs, crossing his arms. “It was horrific. I had no clue what was happening.”

“It was like cramps, but in your head, right?” Kuroo laughs, hands coming to rest on his hips. “Well, it can kill you—”

“I thought I was dying,” Daichi says, a cloud passing over his face. “It was awful.”

“—but only slowly, and only in extreme conditions. We’re just barely high enough for altitude sickness, I’m betting. Honestly, I’m surprised he’s so sick.”

“Whatever it is, I hope he gets over it soon!” Hinata gives a boisterous shout, seeming not nearly as angry with Kageyama as he pretends to be, concern thinly veiled. Sugawara gives him a smile and nod, easily realizing as much.

“He just needs rest. I’m sure he’ll be back before long.”

Practice proceeds as normal. The coaches seem undisturbed; unlike the teens, they seem sure in themselves, in the fact that Kageyama will get better. Sugawara is put at ease with the rehearsed motions of practice and they make up for Kageyama’s absence easily enough. It goes on: there’s a second match, a third match, penalties and stretches, lunch— and more practice, more and more, all without Kageyama returning. Sugawara approaches Kiyoko to ask her to check up on him and she obeys wordlessly, returning not fifteen minutes later with a faint smile on her face—he’s doing better, she says.

Sugawara feels something settle at the back of his mind. Like to confirm that Kageyama is really okay, he needs to see him with his own eyes. He gives her appreciative thanks, but it isn’t genuine at all— his worries aren’t put to rest so easily.

The whistle blows on practice. Evening has long fallen, the sun never having shown itself. He wonders if it will begin to rain soon; it had certainly looked as though it was going to, earlier in the day. Distractedly, Sugawara begins clean up. He’s unhooking the volleyball net when Hinata comes up next to him, usually bright face dim with a gloomy, brooding frown. Concerned, Sugawara stops—to look at him, to pay him attention. Hinata doesn’t bother with any preamble.

“... Is Kageyama still not back?”

Hinata is blunt when he needs to be, or when he feels he should be. Sugawara is struck with a sudden jealousy, wishing he were less timid. He shakes his head, finishing with the net. He begins to fold it, and Hinata follows behind him, taking up the other side.

“Can we go visit him? I think even he’d get lonely, without any company.”

“That’s a good idea,” Sugawara agrees, finding himself not minding, not at all. He wants to see Kageyama too. “Let’s finish up here first. I’ll meet you by the courtyard windows after we’re done.”

“Okay!” Satisfied, Sugawara and Hinata finish up with the net. The smaller boy runs off to sweep, snagging a broom from underneath Nishinoya’s nose.

Sugawara breathes out thinly.

If Kageyama were to go home it would ruin the atmosphere of the camp. Volleyball is more important to Kageyama than anything else, so he probably wouldn’t accept it easily. Sugawara sympathizes greatly, even though he’s aware that his well-being comes first. He isn’t nearly as talented as their younger setter, but he’s just as passionate.

This was the last year of high school volleyball for the third years. Doing as much as they could in the time they had was of utmost importance. It made Sugawara feel frantic sometimes, panicked like he was on a timer, like at the end when the buzzer rung out, he’d be left in the dust of his teammates, fun memories tainted with the bitterness of regret. He’d never show it, of course. That was too unlike him; there was no point in agonizing over it and even if he felt that way, those thoughts never lingered long.

Sugawara knows not to dig himself into a hole brooding, but the atmosphere of the day—dark, gray—and the dream he’d had earlier had gotten him wound up to this point, solicitous to the point of madness. He feels like Asahi.

Asahi, who—when he scans the gym—he finds laughing alongside Tanaka and Nishinoya, agreeably tagging along in cleaning beside the two. It startles him into indignance, and then into realization. He’s overreacting to everything, nerves seeming sensitive and raw.

Sugawara brushes those feelings off with a self-determined finality and tells Daichi where he’s going, heading out to find Hinata.

Just as he’d instructed, he’s waiting by the windows to the courtyard, peering out with a dazed look on his face. Sugawara finds it funny and looks outside, trying to spot whatever it is that Hinata seems so interested in—there’s nothing there but a tree and some shrubs.

“What is it?” He asks, startling the other boy as he approaches.

“I just think the courtyard is pretty,” Hinata says, vacantly. Sugawara looks outside, eyeing the barren tree and the gray sky. It's not particularly special. He shrugs the oddness of that statement off, finding no reason to argue it.

“... the tree will be beautiful in the spring. I'd love to come here again around that time."

After a few more seconds of the two peering outside, Hinata turns to Sugawara as though breaking free from some sort of daze. "Um! Let's go visit Kageyama. He’s in the infirmary, right?”

They head off together, Hinata staring into the old classrooms as they pass them by. Sugawara chalks it up to curiosity, figuring it’s nothing of importance, just him being as nosey as ever—but Hinata stops, hands pressed against the frosted glass of a door.

“There’s stuff in this room, still,” Hinata says, trying the door knob. “—huh?”

“It’s locked,” Sugawara reminds him, befuddled. He doesn’t know what to say. Why is he so concerned about the contents of an old classroom?

“Do you have a key?” Hinata asks, turning to him with a wild enthusiasm. Sugawara gives a slow shake of the head, not understanding.

“No, I don’t. Why do you need to go in there?” He asks, thrown off by his odd behavior.

“I don’t need to,” Hinata says, deflating. He gives up on the door, and they continue toward the main hall. “I just wanted to.”

“... why?” Sugawara has to ask. It’s better than brooding in silence as they traverse the school’s many halls, at any rate. And he’s curious, now.

“I just thought it’d be cool,” He says, sighing in longing. “Like—it’d be fun to discover some old work from the students who used to go here. The school is kind of spooky, but it’d be neat, to see some of the past! It’s like it’s a time capsule.”

Sugawara does understand, just then, with a sudden clarity that has him reeling. He feels strangely excluded, like the charm of this place has been lost on him. He’s been so pent up with frustrated concerns of trivial matters that he hadn’t thought once of the school as being interesting. Strange, surely; old, foreboding, shadowed and muddled, insides locked away tight with the trappings of both time and mystery, but not a thing worthy of exploration.

Hinata’s enthusiasm for all things new is one that makes him want to pry and snoop, to unearth secrets and learn. He isn’t one to shield his eyes from the darkness of night. Sugawara is struck again with jealousy, wishing he could throw away his tepid nature for a similar enthusiasm. It separates them, even in volleyball. Hinata’s constant thirst for growth and knowledge has lead the team to the point they’re at now, and it’s an innate strength that Hinata himself probably doesn’t even realize he possesses.

“It is neat,” he finally agrees, when his stretching silence gets Hinata to look over at him from his shoulder, brows drawn up in an expectant curve. “... maybe we can explore later. We should go ask Kageyama how he’s feeling, for now.”

“Yeah!” Hinata chirps, swinging his arms. “Maybe Kageyama would like to explore, too,” he remarks, seeming hopeful. Sugawara doubts it, but nods anyway.

They’ve reached the infirmary. As a formality, they knock. A muffled come in sounds from behind the door, and Hinata swings it open with a bang and a shout, running into the room and to Kageyama’s side.

Sugawara trails after him, spotting Kageyama where he sits on the edge of his bed. In comparison to how pale he’d looked during morning practice, he seems flushed now, lively and pink. Healthy. Well. Kiyoko hadn’t lied. Sugawara heaves a sigh of relief. It was preposterous to think Kageyama would be anything other than fine.

“How are you feeling?” He begins, gently.

“Better,” Kageyama says, face set, determined to convince him of it. Earlier, he’d seemed positively anguished, wracked with sickness and upset. “I’ve been laying in bed all day.” A pause. Sugawara watches as Hinata fluffs Kageyama’s pillows and tugs at his sheets, fawning over him like a nervous mother. The sight makes Sugawara want to laugh—and he sees no reason not to, because Kageyama is well and Hinata is charming, so he does. He laughs, startling the two of them.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says, more honest than he’s felt he’s been since they got here. “If we can convince Ukai, then you should be able to join practice tomorrow.”

Kageyama opens his mouth to respond, but Hinata cuts him off. “We can practice our quick! Maybe tonight, maybe now, we can—”

“Not tonight,” Sugawara scolds, faking ire. “Knowing you two, you’d just make yourselves sick with practice. I’m betting it was exhaustion that made you ill, Kageyama.”

“Or altitude sickness,” Hinata comments with a smug grin, getting a perturbed look from Kageyama. He offers no explanation, seeming unwilling to give up his newfound knowledge.

“Anyway… dinner will be ready soon. If you feel well, you should eat. I’ve got to get to the showers, but before that, you two have to promise me, no training.” They both stare at him, and Sugawara senses that they aren’t at all convinced. “... or I’ll tell Daichi.”

“No training,” they repeat in unison, Hinata sounding defeated.

Sugawara smiles, sugary sweet. With a wave, he turns to leave. “I’m really serious!”

“Yes, Sugawara,” they return, pouting and petulant.

Convinced they’ve taken to his promise of punishment, Sugawara leaves them to each other, heart feeling light.

On his way to the showers he runs into Nekoma’s libero, Yaku. He spots Sugawara and then his face lights up, greeting him with a nod and a wave.

“Hey. How’s your first-year setter doing?”

“I just visited him. I think he’s feeling better now.”

“What happened, exactly?”

“He had heat stroke the night before the trip. I think his body must still be exhausted from that stress.”

“Oh,” Yaku hums in acknowledgement and sympathy. “Kuroo was saying—”

“That it was altitude sickness? I heard.”

Yaku gives a light-hearted laugh at that. “It’s plausible. You seemed so distracted during practice. I thought it might have been something more serious, but I guess I was wrong.”

“Eh?” Sugawara is caught off guard by that and he raises a hand to his cheek in embarrassment. “It was that noticeable?”

“I doubt anyone else noticed,” Yaku shrugs, attempting to sound casual in attempts to quell Sugawara’s insecurity. “It’s not like you were playing badly. You just seemed to have something on your mind.”

Sugawara has to wonder if he’d been transparent about his feelings the entire time. Perhaps Tsukishima had caught onto his anxiety—reversing the roles he thought they’d had all along. It takes Sugawara a second to collect himself before he breaches the silence that has fallen over them.

“Honestly, it wasn’t just him getting sick,” Sugawara is slow to admit it, but Yaku seems a sane and reasonable person—someone who could help him make some sense of things. “He said some pretty worrying things on the way here.”

“Was he ill even on the ride up?” Yaku asks, perplexed. He’s curious, which invites Sugawara to divulge a little bit more— and as awfully informal as it is to do so, it’s not like they’re unequals, here.

“He was, I think, but he didn’t complain about that. He said the mountain itself made him feel…” A pause. Should he really talk about this? “—uneasy. If I’m honest, it made me a bit nervous,” Sugawara forces a smile, but he follows it up with a sigh that is strained. It gives him away. Yaku’s eyebrows raise.

“Is that so…? Is Kageyama a superstitious person?”

“I asked him if that’s what it was, but he denied it,” Sugawara shrugs, heat creeping up the back of his neck. “He insisted on it just being a ‘bad feeling’ about the trip in general, but it didn’t sit well with me.”

“Hmm,” The blonde boy considers that for a moment. “I guess he has good instincts after all.”

“Huh?” Sugawara stares openly. What does Yaku mean? “Kageyama has a really good sense for volleyball, if that’s what you mean…?” Sugawara guesses.

“I mean, he might claim he doesn’t feel that way based on a superstition, but that’s what it comes down to. If he felt bad about coming up here, it was probably a gut feeling.”

“’A gut feeling’... that was what he said it was. Are you implying that it’s not wrong…?”

"Maybe he was embarrassed to admit his beliefs, but I mean... some people think that mountains are spiritual, that they're connected to a third realm," Yaku quirks his brows like the suggestion is ludicrous.

“That’s…”

“It sounds really weird, right?” Yaku gives a shrug, uncommitted to the idea of augury, despite connecting it to Kageyama’s premonition.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Sugawara murmurs, something settling at the back of his throat. He swallows. “But I’ve never really heard about that before.”

“I only read about it briefly. I think mountains are supposed to be sacred? So building on an untouched one invites bad luck and misfortune… it’s like desecrating burial grounds or something,” Yaku shrugs. “Or maybe he heard some ghost stories. He doesn’t strike me as the gullible type, but—”

“He is,” Sugawara deadpans. Kageyama was surprisingly dense, for all his icy, sharp sighted intuition when it came to volleyball. “Ghost stories… so like, old folk tales?”

“Yeah,” Yaku smiles, glad not to have to explain. “Ghost stories are especially popular in old schools.”

Sugawara’s stomach twists. Old schools, like this one. He doesn’t particularly like where this is going. It sets his teeth on edge. “Have you heard any…?”

“Um,” Yaku seems to notice Sugawara’s discomfort. “No. I haven’t. I don’t know what your beliefs are, but I have to wonder if he heard about some of those superstitions. Maybe he picked it up and the connection was subconscious. I doubt he thinks he believes in it. But it’s a possibility.”

“I think it’s interesting,” Sugawara answers cautiously. “Really interesting.” It’s possible Kageyama had picked up on something like that. Sugawara doesn’t believe it, but as myth—as subconscious superstition—it makes sense. It injects reason into something that had previously been baselessly frightening.

Yaku grins derisively, relieved that Sugawara hadn’t taken offense. “... at any rate, no one really wants to live in the mountains. He could have just been scared of—”

“—ooh, what? Who wouldn’t want to live up here forever?!”

A boisterous shout shocks the two boys, who had been speaking in low whispers as they had traversed the hallways leading to the showers. Just ahead, Bokuto is standing with his hands on his hips, Akaashi turned to look back at him with pursed lips, clearly unimpressed.

“I certainly wouldn’t,” Akaashi answers vaguely. “It’s rather cold up here.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one who noticed,” Sugawara agrees, relieved for the interruption. “I thought I was going to get a cold just getting out of bed this morning.”

“So what? It’s a little bit chilly,” Bokuto and Akaashi tag along with them on their way to the showers. “This place is super cool. I really want to go through that forest.”

“You might be the only one,” Yaku interjects. “I found it kind of spooky.”

“I know a few people who might go with me,” Bokuto chirps, bouncing on his feet, giving Akaashi a sidelong glance. “Suga, would you come with me?”

“Uh,” Sugawara is caught off guard by the sudden attention. “I don’t think it would be safe. I doubt there are any trails...”

Bokuto is giving him a blank look. It’s clear he’s not buying it as an excuse. He gives up on that after a second or two. “Aw, man. But it’d be so cool!”

Sugawara nods distractedly, something cold prickling the back of his neck. He turns to look behind him and in the corner of his eye he catches movement. They’re at the top of the stairs on the west side of the school, closer to the opposing teams’ dorms’ than they are to Karasuno’s. Perturbed, he searches with his eyes; he sees no one, but he hears the metallic thunk of brass against wood. He has a feeling he knows what—or who it is.

“Sorry, I have to head this way,” He gestures. Yaku blinks owlishly at him while Akaashi nods, head turned to face the noise. He must have heard it too.

“We’ll see you at dinner.”

“Thanks,” Sugawara says, turning to head to Karasuno’s dorm. Bokuto seems insulted but Akaashi distracts him easily, allowing Sugawara to leave unhindered.

He heads through the common room and strides up to the door leading to their dorm, watching as the brass ornament hanging from the knob spins and sways, the cause of the earlier noise. Whoever it was had been fairly sneaky—purposefully, it seems, to avoid drawing attention. They’d failed rather miserably.

Putting on a scowl, Sugawara tries the knob.

—Huh?

It doesn’t budge. Sugawara tries again, finding the same solid resistance. He looks around— there’s no one standing there laughing at him, but it feels like he’s being pranked. He tries again, and the door opens.

And Hinata promptly runs face first into his chest.

“Uwah!”

The smaller boy falls on his ass, crying out. He’s too light to knock Sugawara over, so all he does is fall to the ground, leaving Sugawara to stare in shock at the first-year. He chokes down a laugh, screwing his face into a scowl, even as he lends him a hand up.

“Hinata, what were you doing in there?”

“You scared me, Sugawara!” Hinata is the one admonishing him, even as he takes the proffered hand. Sugawara pulls him to his feet—but doesn’t let go.

“What were you doing?” As he speaks, he realizes that Hinata couldn’t have locked the door. He didn’t hear the lock; and besides, he didn’t have keys. He must have been holding it.

“Nothing!” Hinata refuses to meet his eyes, instead choosing to evade him with a shrug and a nervous shake of the head. It’s so easy to tell when he’s lying, especially when they’re this close.

“Hinata,” He warns, brows furrowing. Sugawara isn’t good at scolding or at instilling fear; he’s not Daichi, and he can’t pretend he is. Still, Hinata is acting suspicious and he’s determined to get to the bottom of it.

Hinata goes to give him a defiant glare and meets eyes brimming with suppressed amusement. As though admitting defeat his shoulders slump, guilt apparent. “I’ll tell you,” He pauses. “If you don’t tell Daichi.”

“I won’t,” Sugawara gives way to his demand a touch too easily, mirth at having caught him overcoming his contemptuous ire.

Hinata hesitates, even after Sugawara releases his wrist. He bites his lip and looks down. It’s clear to Sugawara even before he speaks that he’s caught him doing something he wasn’t supposed to do.

The silence stretches thin. “I was looking for the keys…”

“The keys? The ones that Takeda gave Daichi?”

Hinata just nods; it seems he expects to be reprimanded.

“... did you go through Daichi’s things?” Sugawara is less angry than he thought he’d be, but that makes him bristle.

“I… was going to, but I didn’t.” As blunt as ever, it seems. If Sugawara were in a similar situation, he would deny any ill intent, especially if he hadn’t carried the deed out. Still, Hinata is honest, and that’s something he can appreciate.

Sugawara crosses his arms and makes to look as though he’s considering what to do, all while gazing with raised brows, unimpressed with his younger teammate. “What were you going to do with the keys?”

“I was going to go visit that room,” He implores, fidgeting with his hands. If he could run away, he probably would. “With Kageyama. I thought, if we couldn’t train, then we could at least go look at it. He’s been cooped up all day…”

That’s about all Sugawara can handle. The absolute guilt etched in Hinata’s tiny, woeful frown makes Sugawara sympathize with him—it even makes him feel a little bit bad. Sugawara discards his mask of disdain and heaves a great sigh, as if the situation wasn’t endlessly amusing. Hinata must have forgotten that Sugawara had already told him they could explore later. “You didn’t find them, did you?”

“No,” Hinata says, looking up.

“I’ll ask to borrow them after dinner, then,” A twinkling smile, and a laugh. “If it was something so simple, you didn’t need to sneak around.”

Having realized he’s not in any real trouble, Hinata perks up and grins, cheer sudden and blinding. “Yay!  Really? Thanks, Sugawara!”

With permission granted, the orange haired boy bounces on his feet and takes off. Sugawara heaves a sigh as he enters their room to gather his change of clothes. In the same room last night, he ha’d joked with Daichi about how their teammates might drive him mad—though it looks now as though Sugawara will be the one driven mad.

After a shower Sugawara heads to the cafeteria, where he finds most of the team already situated. He gathers up his food and Asahi gestures to the space between him and Daichi; in front of him sit Nishinoya and Tanaka, who chatter ceaselessly.

Sugawara eats in relative silence, listening intently to every word passed between the group. This is harmony. It’s refreshing to enjoy a hot meal surrounded by his friends, and so he basks in it. It’s a simple thing, but it fills him with warmth. Their presence is comforting.

Half way through the meal, Sugawara sees Hinata and Kageyama arrive—he hears it, too. Boisterous shouts greet them, teammates and friends both relieved and excited to see Kageyama again. The setter seems unsure how to handle the attention, but Hinata nudges him and they begin to bicker.

Ah. That was right.

“Daichi,” He whispers, turning in his seat. “I need to ask you for a favor. Can you keep it a secret?”

[candlesdance]

5: a secret and a promise

the chill of the mountain shocks sugawara.

ao3, trailer.

[candlesdance]

Chapter 4: Thistle and Thorn

Hinata had found peace in dawn, even in solitude. Silence and stillness was always something that had discomforted him, but without fail, the sun would be there to greet him. The sight of it rising into the sky was reassuring, more than anything. 

Though he’d be alone, he’d never felt lonely.

AO3. Discussion. Trailer.

a/n: big ol thanks to beta as per usual. 

Takeda gives them a proper tour of the school after they’ve laid down the rules.

It’s been made clear that although the captains have power to go where they want, they aren’t to abuse that power. Takeda seems particularly stern about the abandoned gym—says that it’s locked up for a reason. Hinata isn’t one to doubt his teacher, so the constant reminders aren’t necessary. It makes him curious as to why, if anything. He’d mentioned rotting floorboards, but that doesn’t seem much of a reason. His insistence is what draws out Hinata’s curiosity most. But it’s not like he’s about to purposefully break any of the rules, so it remains just that: curiosity.

The layout of the school isn’t terribly different from their high school back in Miyagi, though it feels a lot grander. The ceilings are arched and the windows are tall, allowing a clear, brilliant, light to shine in, dancing off the gleaming floors and sparkling interiors. Hinata likes the feeling it emits—one of lofty importance. It feels like he’s some kind of VIP.

They don’t enter any of the many emptied classrooms that they pass by, though Hinata is itching to explore. Takeda doesn’t say they’re not allowed in, so Hinata assumes that they are allowed in. Though there’s no time for it now, his heart beats with excitement at the thought of wandering through the old classrooms and perhaps peeking through the desks. It’d be like stepping back in time. A glance through the classroom window confirms that the desks they’d used so many decades ago are still there, seeming in good shape, from what he can tell.

They make their way toward the gyms. They’ll be training soon and they’re not allowed to wander, so he’s eager to finish up with the tour. Takeda is sure taking his time leading them around, he thinks, glancing through the windows to the courtyard.

Hinata takes a minute to pause, allowing a sense of ease to wash over him, excitement dulling into something softer as he peers out into the yard.

He has these quiet moments, sometimes—in the early mornings, he’d often set out on a jog before the sun even rose. He’d watch the horizon gradually grow hot, murky grays and blacks turning to fiery oranges and purples. He’d found peace in the dawn of the morning, even in solitude. Silence and stillness was always something that had discomforted him, but without fail, the sun would be there to greet him. The sight of it rising into the sky was reassuring, more than anything. Though he’d be alone, he’d never felt lonely.

The courtyard enraptures him now. The school has been abandoned for many years, and the outside environment clearly shows that. The courtyard is clean, however, and exultingly simple when compared with the structure of the garden, which had seemed a maze in its bushes and tall, hanging trellis. Just as the floors inside seemed to have been waxed, the courtyard seems to have been weeded. What captures his eye isn’t necessarily the difference in cleanliness, but rather the cherry blossom tree in the middle of the yard.

It must be an older tree, he thinks. It stands tall, seeming proud and refined, even more so than anything else: the garden had given its beauty away to time—the metal of the trellis rusted, and the rose bushes had given way to weeds and wildflowers, thistles and thorns. In comparison to that, this part of the land seems least touched.

Kenma catches his attention, a few of his teammates and friends turned to call out to him, noticing his absence from their side. Hinata shakes his mind free from lingering thoughts of sunrises and thistles and runs to catch up.

“What were you looking at...?” Kenma asks, genuinely curious.

“The courtyard! I thought it was pretty.”

“I see…” Kenma seems to doubt him, but he blinks and turns away, taking that answer. Hinata grins at his back and matches his steady pace.

Ahead, Takeda is taking them into the secondary gym. They open it, finding a familiar sight. It looks just the same as their gym in Miyagi, though a little bigger, the wood flooring a different tinge of orange. Hinata bounces from foot to foot and stills only when Kenma gives him a sidelong glance. He doesn’t need to say anything in order to chastise him. His disapproving look is enough to quell Hinata’s urge to run around with wild abandon.

“… so you’ll just have to get changed. The rest of us will take care of dinner—other than that, everything’s been arranged. The net and the balls are in the storage closets, so just get your captain to unlock it. Ah, hm…” Hinata wishes he would stop talking so they could just play. “I really hope you all enjoy your week here. Well— hmm. How should I say this…” and now he seems tongue tied, after everything he’s said. Ukai speaks up.

“It’s time to train! Go get changed. We’ll be followin’ a schedule, same way we always do during a training camp. We’ll distribute the papers after dinner!”

And the children are allowed to run free. Hinata separates from Kenma’s side to head up to Karasuno’s dorm, the rest of his team following along with him. After they change, Hinata finds Kageyama as they head back downstairs, storming into his personal space with a cheerful yell.

“Kageyama!”

“What?” he sighs, glaring down at him. Hinata doesn’t mind it, finding it familiar. Kageyama seems to be in better spirits than this morning, at any rate.

“What do you think about the school?” Left unsaid is: do you feel better about it now?

“It’s alright,” he grunts, turning away.

“See!” Hinata gives his arm a pat, putting on a winning smile. “It’s so cool, isn’t it? The mountain is awesome!”

“It’s not that bad,” a voice chimes in, Tsukishima sweeping past the two with a smug look. “But I think Kageyama is still scared after all.”

“I was never scared,” he snaps, glowering.

“Oh? But it’d seemed like you’d rather stay at home than come.” Beside him, Yamaguchi stifles a laugh.

“Tsukishima, you’re so rude! Kageyama was sick,” Hinata comes to his defense, not wanting his mood to be spoiled by any teasing. He wants to train, not deal with a grumbling Kageyama. “Give him a break!”

“You’re being oddly accepting of it,” he remarks, eyebrows raised. Unlike before, he doesn’t ignore Hinata and instead focuses on him. “Here I was, thinking you would have scolded him the most. Don’t tell me you actually believe what he was saying?”

“Eh?” Hinata tilts his head, inquisitive.

“About the mountain. You know, about how scared he is—“

“I just told you that I’m not scared,” Kageyama hisses, brows furrowing.

“Oh, that,” Hinata doesn’t seem particularly interested. “Ennoshita said those are called intrusive thoughts. I remembered!” He sticks his chin up, seeming proud. Tsukishima, however, isn’t dissuaded.

“Was that really it?” his gaze travels from Hinata to Kageyama, who he scrutinizes with a scowl. “After getting so worked up it turned out to be nothing, huh?”

“Just shut up—”

“That’s enough you two,” Daichi’s booming voice stops them short. The younger three stop and turn to their captain, who strides past them with a threatening glare, reminding them that now is not the time to argue. “Tsukishima, stop trying to rile Kageyama up.”

“I wasn’t, really…” he mumbles, but he gives up on his teasing, turning away with a childish little twist to his lips. It’s not defiant enough for Daichi to scold him for it, so he doesn’t; Sugawara shakes his head as they pass by and cups a hand around his mouth.

“Hurry up to the gym. We’ll be starting practice soon.”

It’s a murmur, whispered behind Daichi’s back. Sugawara gives them all a wink and hurries alongside their captain, who doesn’t bother to turn back. Tsukishima is obedient this time and doesn’t say anything else to Kageyama—but he doesn’t need to. He’s done enough to rile him up.

“You look constipated,” Hinata tells him in a loud voice, getting an indignant slap upside the head. He’d expected that much. But it allows Kageyama a distraction from the thorn that Tsukishima had pierced into his side. Rubbing his head and pouting, eyes tearing up, Hinata reluctantly presses on. “You aren’t still worried about that stuff, are you? I know Tsukishima was just being mean, but…” Maybe talking about it will make him feel better. So Hinata asks him that, hoping to cheer him up again.

“I don’t think there’s any reason to worry,” is all Kageyama says, like that’s not an evasive answer. Hinata shrugs and accepts it, mercifully. They’re rounding the corner and stepping past the windows lining the courtyard, so Hinata uses that as a distraction, pointing at the tree.

“Look, see—isn’t that tree pretty?”

“Are you stupid?” Kageyama asks, but he’s looking at it. “What’s so pretty about it? It’s not even in bloom yet.”

“Yeah, but it will be,” Hinata says, a skip in his step. “When I see it, I can’t help but feel happy. I really want to see that tree when it’s blooming. I’m sure it’s beautiful!”

“I guess it’s okay,” Kageyama mumbles, unable to trample Hinata’s enthusiasm. “It’s not really that special, though.”

“You just can’t see it! I’m sure when it blooms, it’ll surprise even you! And you’ll eat your words!” Hinata sticks his tongue out at Kageyama, dodging a swipe at his head. He runs away with a laugh, heading into the gym. Kageyama gives chase.

They fall into a routine of practice, the penalties for losing just as harsh as they’d been at previous training camps, though a little different due to their lack of space. It’s harder to balance teams out when they only have three—an uneven, awkward number. They make it work.

When they take a break in practicing to just breathe, Hinata steps out into the courtyard, as they’d been told they were allowed. The tree’s branches sway in the wind, barren and yet promising.

It makes him smile.

By the end of practice they’re rightfully exhausted, more so from the journey to the mountain than by the exercise in itself. Hinata still wants to go, to do more and more until he simply can’t anymore—but he’s dragged rather bodily by his shirt collar by Tanaka, who scolds him for harassing the setters around him for tosses.

The third years are told to go for showers first, so Hinata finds himself pacing the span of windows that open up to the courtyard. He isn’t quite hungry yet, and he’s been kicked out by Tanaka, so he has nothing better to do right now than wander—his pace is agitated and fierce. He’s still so restless.

Eventually, he finds himself thinking of the conversation he’d had on the bus with Kageyama.

While they’d spoken, something had crept up his back—it rests now on his shoulders, a feeling of discomfort that is rather like an ache than anything else. Replaying his words over and over again in his head, he searches for the oddity. What was it that had struck him as strange? He’d felt more indignant than anything, and yet…

Had Kageyama said that he felt there was something wrong with the mountain itself? Or was it about the training camp? There’d been something like that. Kageyama had repeatedly insisted it was just a feeling and nothing more, but there was another phrase he’d used that Hinata can’t recall.

He pauses in front of the windows and sighs, crossing his arms and screwing his eyes closed with a pout. There’s no use thinking about it, even though it’d left a bad taste in his mouth. They’re here now, and there’s nothing wrong with the mountain or the camp and nobody is sick, not even Kageyama—any trace of his weakness from this morning has faded with time. He’d looked so pale. It’d made Hinata feel guilty for not believing him, and teasing him to such an extent. What’s done is done, however.

“Shouyou?”

Hinata’s eyes fly open to Kenma, who stands in front of him with a worried uplift to his brows. He wonders how long he’d been pacing for. Dismissing his restlessness with a smile, he greets his friend.

“Hi, Kenma!”

A blank look. Kenma seems distressed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Mmh,” he mumbles in response, fiddling with the device in his hands. It’s his phone. Is he still disappointed about the lack of internet connectivity? “Nothing, really…”

“Is it your phone? You can still play offline games, like I said before.”

“That’s not it… what about you? You seemed to be thinking about something.”

As they talk, they begin to head toward the main lobby. Perhaps they’d head upstairs in lieu of wait for their time to shower. “Hmm, not really! I was just thinking that I’d like to see that cherry tree bloom, is all.”

“The tree in the yard?” Kenma considers that, and then says, “I thought it looked lonely.”

It’s true. The tree was barren, and the courtyard was empty of people for so long. It’d come of no surprise, should it inspire loneliness rather than hope. But all the same, Hinata grins, spreading his arms out wide.

“It’s not, not at all! Just think. Soon, it’ll bloom, and it’ll be super pretty.”

“Sure…” Kenma mumbles, brushing his hair back. “I’d like to see it then, too.”

Hinata grins, and they round the corner. He intends to head up the staircase that leads to Nekoma and Fukurodani’s dorm, but Kenma has stopped in place, eyes fixed forward. Hinata follows his gaze and sees Ukai, standing with Takeda in front of the office. They seem to be immersed in deep conversation.

“Kenma? Are you coming?”

“… just wait,” he says, and then leaves Hinata’s side, headed toward the adults. Hinata tilts his head and then follows after him, completely perplexed.

“Hey, you two,” Ukai says, noticing them as they approach, cutting off from his conversation with Takeda to address them. “Where’re you headed?”

“Nowhere, really,” Hinata smiles and answers for them, not giving Kenma a chance to voice whatever concerns he had approached them in mind with. “Upstairs, I guess.”

“Right,” Ukai nods, gesturing. “Go on, then. ‘N don’t forget to get dinner. It’s ready, if you want to eat now.”

“I had a question,” Kenma says, before Hinata can rush off as told. “About the radio system…does it actually work?”

It strikes Hinata as an odd question. He tilts his head at the other boy, who seems unaware of the sudden strangeness of it. Takeda gives him an equally curious look, but smiles after a beat.

“It does,” he pushes up his glasses and gestures behind him, to the office. “Both the PA and radio system work just fine.”

“… I don’t have any cell service,” Kenma mutters after a moment, almost sadly. Takeda gives a laugh.

“No, you wouldn’t. None of us do.”

“Are you worried?” Ukai asks, blinking down at him. “D’you need to contact someone?”

“No… it’s just… if we don’t have service, then…”

“There’s a landline,” Ukai interrupts him to say, jerking a thumb at the office. “Main system’s real simple, but it works. In house phones, too.”

“Oh!” Hinata shouts as he comes to an understanding. “I saw them. Those phones, everywhere. There’s one in every room, isn’t there?”

“Your schedule’ll list numbers so you can contact other rooms without travelin’ from place to place. Makes things easier.” Ukai explains.

“It was built with convenience in mind,” Takeda nods agreeably, smile wide. “Very smart. It’s convenient to be able to—say, call to your dorms, if there’s a change in schedule. You can call us, too, in our rooms.”

“Ooh, that’s cool!” Hinata bounces eagerly and beams.

“Oh…” Kenma seems disappointed, a contrast to Hinata’s blinding cheer. “I see.”

After a moment of awkward silence in which Hinata looks between the three curiously, Takeda heaves a reluctant sigh. “Ah, sorry... it’d be easier if we just had service, after all. But that’s just not an option up here. You can trust even in older systems. They were reliable then, and they’re reliable now, even if you’re not used to them.”

“Yeah,” Kenma nods, giving a polite bow. “Let’s go, Shouyou.”

He turns on his heel and leaves, just like that. Hinata finds it bizarre, and turns to follow him after bowing— and thanking them, in Kenma’s absence—but he stops short, turning back to Takeda with an exclamation that makes the two adults jump.

“Ah! Teacher, did you find any maps?”

“Huh?” Takeda is befuddled, but he quickly remembers his and Tsukishima’s conversation earlier. He gives a shake of his head. “No, unfortunately. I didn’t—”

“Thanks!” Hinata interrupts, running off to catch up with Kenma.

They lapse into silence as they head up the stairs. Eventually, as they make their way toward Nekoma and Fukurodani’s dorm, Hinata thinks to question the conversation they’d just had.

“Are you that worried about the phones?”

“… it’s not that I’m worried about the phones. It’s just better if we have a way to contact the outside.”

“Oh,” Hinata murmurs, the words striking a chord in his heart. Something clambers up his back. “That’s true…”

“I don’t expect we’ll need to, but it’s better if we have options.”

“… so you don’t have anyone you need to phone?” he asks instead, shaking that feeling off. “Hmm… like a girlfriend.”

“No,” Kenma blurts, turning to him with a shocked expression. “Shouyou…” the tips of his ears seem to be turning red. Hinata grins ear to ear, delighted by the sight. Kenma wasn’t a person he found any inclination to tease, so he doesn’t intend on pushing him—but he still laughs a little, because it disperses them of the awkward atmosphere.

“I was just checking!” He turns away from Kenma with a skip in his step, giving him time to allow his embarrassment to fade. They lapse into a half silence, Hinata humming as they approach the dorm, Kenma hiding his face in his hair.

They separate when Kuroo finds them in the dorm room, yelling for Kenma to hurry up and shower, as it was the second-years turn. Hinata gets going, having no reason to linger. He runs into Kageyama on his way down to the gyms. It isn’t long before it’s their turn to bathe, so they head there together. Kageyama finishes washing up before him, and Hinata finds himself alone in the showers. He’d taken his sweet time, but he feels rather unnerved, all alone. He scrambles out upon realizing as much.

After showering he finds himself unexpectedly weary. The excitement from practice and their arrival has faded, so that lingering exhaustion has finally crept up on him. He finds himself slowly marching to the cafeteria, the halls seeming barren and empty in the darkness of the evening. What light had filled the spaciousness of the school has fled, leaving it looking gloomy. It’s a bit creepy. He hurries to the cafeteria, unable to find anyone else on his way there.

The cafeteria’s doors are open—clean, white light cuts into the harsh shadows of the hallways, a reassuring sight that he rushes toward. Within the cafeteria he finds the rest of his team—and the other two teams as well. Tanaka chastises him for being late and across the room, Bokuto hollers something he can’t make out. Akaashi hushes him.

Dinner is a hazy affair, Hinata finding himself yawning in between stuffing his face. Nishinoya laughs at him for it, but gives his own yawn not a moment later, something Tanaka laughs and mocks him for in turn. There is chatter, light and sparse, and then they clean up and before he knows it they’re given their schedules and told to head up for bed.

Takeda accompanies them up, surprisingly enough. He’d mentioned wanting to help them with the futons, but Hinata had overheard Tanaka laughingly whispering about how he simply wanted to avoid drinking with the other adults. It hadn’t seemed like him, so Hinata doubts it to be true. Ukai’s complaints are noisily heard from even across the cafeteria. Perhaps he’d been stuck with the duty of drinking in Takeda’s place.

No matter his intentions, the team is appreciative for his help. They go about setting down the futons in neat rows, Takeda reminding them not to be sloppy. He takes to folding and preparing the newly washed sheets and linens while the children fold pillows into cases and settle the futons into place.

Tsukishima speaks up eventually, starting with something innocuous. It seems idle talk, just to fill the silence. Most of the team is yawning, too tired to think. So Hinata doesn’t really pay attention to what the conversation is about, letting it go in one ear and out the other.

"... Takeda, how long ago did your grandfather pass this land over to you?"

It seems to take their teacher by surprise. He pauses in folding sheets, sitting back on his feet as he thinks it over. "Hmm... several years ago. About three, maybe?"

"Only that long ago?" Tsukishima remarks, raising his eyebrows dubiously. Hinata listens in with only a vague interest, but he comes up with his own question when he hears that and decides it best to just blurt it out while he can.

"How'd he get it?" A pause. Takeda turns to look at Hinata, instead. "Your grandfather. How’d he get it in the first place?"

"Ah... the land?" he asks, blinking idly. "It was so long ago... I remember him telling me quite a tale about it. It took time and effort."

Tsukishima shoots Hinata a look. If the other boy knew how to read between the lines, he'd see it as a warning. Cautiously, he turns back to address their teacher. "That, too. I was curious how he managed to get land like this. It's a mountain, after all. It couldn't have been easy."

"Maybe his grandpa was just that lucky," Hinata says, smiling.

Takeda, however, has focused again on Tsukishima, expression lending to one a bit more serious. Thoughtfully, slowly, and as though weighing every word: "... you're right. The property wasn't easy for him to get a hold on, as you say. I didn't bother saying much, since a history lesson wasn't necessary, but... around the time the population of students here was starting to decline, there was a landslide."

That gets a few head turns. Now not just Tsukishima and Hinata are paying attention, but Sugawara, Daichi and Kageyama, too. Asahi doesn't seem to want to look round, but he does look a little queasy, now. Beside Tsukishima, Yamaguchi pales.

“A landslide?” he asks, voice obviously trembling.

"I-it wasn't on this side of the mountain!" Takeda catches onto the uneasy atmosphere, waving his hands around frantically and babbling out explanations in order to reign in their quick assumptions. "It was on the opposite side to the school. There was an earthquake, but they were smart about where they built the school—it had no effects on the structure, but it was enough to dissuade the few lingering students from staying."

“So... even though it was on the other side of the mountain, everyone picked up their bags and left?” Tsukishima doesn’t make any effort to disguise the uncertainty in his voice. It’s rude to express his doubt so clearly, but he hasn’t seemed to have noticed just how blunt he’s being. From across the room, Ennoshita glares at him.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi whispers, shooting him a pointed glance. He seems more nervous than he has any right to be, fraught with tension.

“... no,” Takeda gives a short sigh, patting his thighs and then standing. “The headmistress decided it wasn’t safe. This isn’t official in any sense, but… I always thought that it was a cover up for the lack of funds, here. The earthquake was a convenient excuse to close the school and sell the land. You…” his confidence seems to falter under the scrutinizing gaze of Tsukishima, but it’s a brief thing, a flicker of anxiety that he sweeps off to the side quickly. 

Hinata doesn’t notice it, for Takeda’s voice firms up quickly after that, sounding every bit the teacher he is. “No one here today has any reason to worry for the land’s integrity. I’ve had it inspected and it’s perfectly safe to be here.”

Behind Takeda’s back, Ennoshita mimes a throat cut, signalling for Tsukishima to knock it off. The blonde boy stares quietly, expression urging, completely ignoring his upper classmate. Even Yamaguchi, who repeatedly throws him worried looks, is ignored. Their teacher has an abundance of patience, but it seems to be growing thin. Even Hinata notices the tightness to his smile.

“My point was that because of the landslide, it was seen as a scandal! So the land fell into my grandfather’s lap. He was looking for a place to purchase and it seemed too good to be true. The price was lowered because of the circumstances at the time… and so on and so forth. Does that answer your question?”

“What did he use the land for?” Tsukishima asks, ignoring Ennoshita’s gestures to knock it off.

“Oh—he had lofty goals, but it just ended up becoming his hunting spot. A place for leisure—”

“Hunting spot?!” Hinata speaks up again, shattering the tense atmosphere like glass. “That’s so cool! What did he hunt?”

“Birds,” Takeda smiles, taken aback. Sheepishly, he pushes up his glasses. “Wild boar, when there were some. There aren’t anymore.”

“That’s so cool,” he repeats, grinning, fluffing up pillows with an over-enthusiastic cheer.

“How was that even legal,” Kageyama grunts, apparently unaware of the quiet that the room was still in. His voice comes out loudly, and he goes red in seconds of having realized it. “Uh—”

Takeda just laughs. “Oh, it was, back then. It was his land and his guns. Not just anyone can access a permit, but he managed it. He was tricky, but a good man.”

Whatever unease had lingered is dispersed easily. A few tense shoulders slump in apparent relief. With that, Takeda finishes folding the sheets, laying them out neatly. “Did you have any other questions…?”

“Erm, no,” Tsukishima manages to stutter out, now apparently all too aware of the foot he’d trodden on. Takeda had sounded scary earlier. Scarily upset with the invasive, doubting questions. “Thank you.”

“Well, I think I’ve kept away from my other duties long enough,” he says, turning to leave. He heaves the great oak door open, the bronze charm dangling and swaying, thunking against the door. “Goodnight. Sleep well, all of you!”

Takeda leaves, the only trace of his presence the shimmer of the ornament hanging from the doorknob. Hinata thinks again that it looks rather like a bird, encircled with a wreath of bronze leaves and vines.

Although most of them had had concerns raised and then flattened, Asahi seems more trepidatious than before.

“So he carried guns…?”

“For birds,” Tsukishima repeats, Hinata unable to make his expression out behind the glint of his glasses. “And for boars.”

“Asahi, it’s like you’ve got a gun to your head,” Nishinoya laughs, smacking his back. “What are you so tense for?! Does the idea of guns scare you so much? Rifles, rifles~ shotguns and pistols~”

“Ah, stop it, stop! I don’t want to think about weapons like that,” Asahi says, patting down his pillow nervously.

“It’s not like there are any on the property anymore,” Daichi says, glaring at Asahi. “... you… you’re really a coward, you know?”

“Ooh, be careful, his grandpa might be lurking in the halls!”

“Noya, you’re immature,” Ennoshita scolds, crossing his arms. “Asahi...” he shakes his head wearily. “I have nothing to say about that. But you,” he adds, suddenly looking furious as he turns to Tsukishima. “You’ve really got to stop being so rude! You could have phrased your questions a bit better, at least.”

“I thought I should be blunt,” Tsukishima mumbles to himself, avoiding meeting anyone’s eyes. Even in attempts to evade guilt, it’s clear he doesn’t regret asking those questions. “... well, we know now, at least. It was bugging me.”

“You have no tact,” Kageyama says, nostrils flaring. The blank delivery sends Hinata into a fit, rolling over and around in laughter, the apparent irony in saying that flying right over Kageyama’s head. Tanaka and Nishinoya burst into laughter alongside him.

“I don’t think somebody like you should be saying things like that,” Tsukishima bites, anger a flame held just barely at bay. “Your superstitions could have been kept to yourself, earlier, you know.”

“They weren’t superstitions,” Kageyama balks, standing with a shout. “You—”

“Enough!” Daichi barks, commanding voice drowning out their bickering. All chatter ceases instantly, ears finely tuned to obey any orders from their captain. “It’s bed time. Stop bickering. Save it for the morning.”

Like that, everyone returns to preparing their futons, heads turned downward. Sugawara stands up from his futon, sheets neatly folded over a thoroughly fluffed pillow. He places a hand on Daichi’s shoulder and gives a quick squeeze, a brief, firm touch, meant to reassure.

“You already seem exhausted,” Sugawara gives him a sidelong glance and then laughs under his breath. “For a second there, I thought your head was going to explode.”

“This trip is already a disaster,” Daichi answers, rubbing his eyes. “Let’s just hope they don’t kill each other.”

“I think I’m more worried about you,” Sugawara teases lightly. “Are you sure you aren’t going to strangle one of them?”

“No, I’m not,” Daichi heaves a sigh and rubs his eyes as the team lays out their blankets and, one by one, begin to crawl underneath. “That’s what worries me most.”

Sugawara outright laughs at that, striding over to switch off the light. What illuminates the room now and allows him to pick his path out from between rows of futons is the moonlight, clean light that is shadowed as a cloud passes by overhead.

Outside, the wind picks up, storm clouds gathering far to the north.

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Finally!

Chapter 5 is out on AO3. I didn’t add in as many scenes as I wanted and didn’t get to the exciting point I thought I would, but that’s better suited to Hinata’s POV.

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Visit Original Link

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Visit Original Link

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Working on things

I just realized I get to write one of the scenes I’d planned in the very beginning (well over a year ago now) and I’m getting very excited! Hype is real for ch5.

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Started rereading Umineko last night; which is the crux of this fanfic premise and my largest inspiration. Should continue tonight, so-- maybe I’ll get a new wave of ideas!

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Rambling & Wondering

Hmm. Chapter 5 (the beginning) is done and edited, but I’m looking over some old notes of mine, and finding character interaction rather lack luster. I think I’ll be adding in more interactions between them all; I don’t care if it’s tedious, there needs to be less of the quaky unease, and some interjections of light-hearted fun. 

I’ve had Hinata-Tsukki, Ennoshita, Daichi, Nishinoya, Kuroo and Bokuto interjections, Suga-Tsukki, Akaashi-Tsukki, brief Kuroo-Bokuto interactions, etc-- Takeda, lots of him, a lil’ bit of Ukai, but I think I need more Yama, more Nishinoya and Tanaka, and more of the side characters; I really do want at least one or two lines from every character by the time shit hits the fan, so that they are established as being “present”. Yaku, Kai, Inuoka, Konoha, Kiyoko, etc... I also want some more Kenma-Hinata, more Kage-Hinata, and more Suga-Asahi-Daichi.

Sigh. Still so many scenes to implement. I guess I don’t need to cram all of these in before the action begins; I want it to sound natural, after all.