It was the day after that match. Hayato looked and felt like shit- he had dark shadows under his eyes, and he hadn’t even bothered to style his hair, which flopped down into his eyes and stuck to his forehead with sweat. The libero was running, blind to the world. It was a miracle he hadn’t been hit by a car. So when he ended up near Karasuno, he didn’t even notice. All he could think about was fucking up that final receive, the one his team mates had been depending on him to get.
Hayato was violently jarred from his thoughts when he smashed into a person, both of them falling from the impact. “Ow,” he groaned, elbow having hit the concrete quite hard.