Hajime never tells Oikawa why her bike was broken.
Oikawa is a prince. The court is his kingdom, and heâs fighting a two front-war. The enemy in front of him keeps him up until the early hours of the morning. The threat of his crown being snatched from behind him keeps him at school until late at night. Oikawa constantly fights the exhaustion of being captain of the second-best team in the prefecture. The worry consumes him and the pressure constantly weighs down upon him.
Thatâs why Hajime never tells him how the girls in their grade broke the tires and bent the metal frame of her bike.
Oikawa is a prince. Every girl swoons over his every word and flirtatious smile. Hajime is their worst fear. The enemy in front of them keeps Hajime up until the early hours of the morning when she washes the stains out of her uniform jacket. The threat of his hand being snatched from their reach keeps Hajime at school until late at night, cleaning off the comments written on her desk. Hajime constantly fights the exhaustion of being Oikawaâs closest friend.
Hajime never learns how to braid her hair or write confession letters. Words have never been Hajimeâs weapon of choice. Â Hajime never learns the passive version of aggression. Instead, Hajime learns how to throw a punch and how to spike a volleyball. Hajime fights her enemies head-on rather than attacking them behind their backs. Hajime wears the bruises on her knees proudly and hides the ones on her heart. Volleyball leaves battle scars, but the girls leave open wounds. Poisonous curses and rumors bleed through the bandages to infect the cuts Hajime can never seem to recover from. Â
Hajime really wants to hate Oikawa for everything. The way she has to diligently check for tacks every time she puts her shoes on. The way she has to erase the board in Oikawaâs classroom before he can read whatâs written. The way he works so hard to the point that he hurts himself. The way desperation clings onto him. The way he shoulders his teamâs losses alone. The way Oikawa fights his enemies on his own, on the frontlines of a war he cannot win alone.
Oikawa is a commander, a conductor. He is the heart of a powerful army. So when he injured himself last fall, he broke more than just his knee. He shattered his teamâs chance at victory. The pain ran deeper than any cut, and he pushed the knife further into himself, guilty for a crime he did not commit.
Hajime wants to hate him for the way he blames himself. The way she has to pull out the knife Oikawa punishes himself with. The way she would rather break her own happiness than allow him to break his. The way she can do nothing but watch him crumble before her.
Hajime wants to hate him for the way he hurts her when she watches him break. The way she dedicates herself to making sure Oikawa never hurts himself again. The way she has to piece him together as he shatters under the title of second best. Hajime wants to hate Oikawa.
Not when Hajime sees Oikawa tear up the threats that are slipped in between the pages of her books. Not when Hajime sees Oikawa placing his notebooks on her bedroom desk so she can study from them. Not when texts her later saying he forgot them and that she could return them tomorrow. Not when Hajime sees the obnoxious drawings that pop up on every page telling her not to give up.
She canât hate him. Not when she sees Oikawa half-asleep on her bed after midterms, guard completely lowered. Not when she sees Oikawa, hair a mess and glasses on. Not when she sees him grab her comb so he can braid her hair. Not when she sees the Oikawa who used to catch fireflies with her. Not when she sees the boy first handed her a volleyball and taught her how to play.
Hajime canât hate Oikawa. Not when she remembers that autumn when he injured his knee. She had spent one final night, lying awake with her uniform on. When morning broke, she quit her team, eyes bloodshot and cradled by dark circles. Hajime, when confronted by a furious Oikawa that afternoon, could not find it in herself to regret her decision. Not when he dragged her to the gym. Not when he threw his crutches on the ground. Not when Oikawa set the ball in a way that has always left Hajime breathless.
Nothing has ever felt more right than spiking a ball that he has set.
But, as a girl, Hajime can never be his ace. Â She will never be allowed to stand on the court with him. His toss will never belong to her.
Read the whole chapter on AO3 - BloomÂ
