Tobio is a simpleton.
He knows that. If he's asked for fun facts about himself, he periodically switches between "I play volleyball" and "I like pork buns". He wakes, habitually drinks a small carton of milk, and plays volleyball. If he's not playing volleyball, he's thinking about volleyball, and to him that's practice of some sort. Active recall and all that.
He wasn't surprised when Hinata told him, eyes round and voice low, that maybe Oikawa-san didn't like him.
Tsukkishima said he was a blessed idiot for having an emotional range in the negatives. It was apparently confirmed when Tobio wracked his head and found that the only thing he ever cried about was missing practice and Kazuyo-san.
It was the day before he turned eighteen, slumped over his study table, that Hinata was whispering furiously in his ear.
"Maybe the Great King got the short end of the stick again." Hinata said. To Tobio, he sounded painfully profound, disproportionate to the size of his brain. "He dislikes you, but he can't even get the satisfaction of hating you because you don't hate him back."
"Stop."
"What?" Hinata stared at him, eyes still hilariously round, albeit with a tinge of confusion crinkling the corners. "I thought you didn't care about this."
Tobio thought he might bring the fact that he did, in fact, care very much, to the goddamned grave.
"I don't," he scowled. "I just- Whatever, dumbass. Talking about Oikawa-san is weird, that's all."
Grumbling, Hinata fizzled out on the tatami mat, starfishing to his heart's content. Tobio watched him. Hinata had been his friend, his other half on the court for three years now, and they were going to separate soon. Hinata was leaving, travelling to the other side of the world and letting their freak-quicks dust over from neglect. Tobio didn't know how to feel about it. He didn't know how to feel about all the people he'd come to like parting ways with him.
"What did you mean by again?"
"Huh?"
"You said he got a short stick again, or something like that."
Hinata made a face. "You didn't even say it right. But yes. He seems to be crazy jealous about your skills. You know, our super cool bam and woosh!"
Tobio stilled. "Jealous?"
"Uh huh." Hinata sat up. "He never got to beat Shiratorizawa either. He must be seething."
Tobio didn't know what 'seething' meant, but he dug through memories for evidence. To his aching dismay, he did find some expressions of Oikawa-san's that screamed displeasure. Towards him.
One of the memories led him down the trail back to the match where he subbed in Oikawa-san's place. He remembered setting for Iwaizumi-san, remembered the magnificent twist of his arm before he slammed the ball past opponents' reach. He remembered turning and seeing Oikawa-san's face hidden under damp cloth, body hunched on the bench. He remembered seeing the tremor in Oikawa-san's shoulders. He'd thought it was out of fatigue. Perhaps not.
Then, his thoughts moved to the day where Oikawa-san had lunged at him, hand fisted and ready to strike. His eyes were crazed, teeth gritted, like Tobio had taken something from him. Iwaizumi-san had barely managed to stop Tobio from receiving a near-certain injury to the face.
Carrying the same momentum, his thoughts drifted off to their last match against each other two years back. Tobio found himself warping into his fifteen-year-old self, staring at Oikawa-san who had missed the receive that lost them their chances of ever beating Shiratorizawa. And that look in his eyes... stunned, unseeing, hateful.
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invisible string | oikage
Fanfiction"Don't come to Aoba Johsai," he said, and watched horror birth itself on Tobio's stricken face. "We don't need dictators like you there." His kouhai didn't utter a word, but his stunned silence said it all. And in twisted triumph, Tooru left him t...
