CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

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+ TW: Panic Attack & Brief Suicidal Thoughts +

Ren had never been envied before. He'd had classmates approach him, talking about how they admired his brilliant academics and participating in volleyball, but no one had ever been jealous.

He tightened his fingers around the ball he was holding, staring at Tobio from across the court, brows furrowed. What had elicited such an expression? He'd never seen the boy make a bitter face. Had it even been jealousy that he saw? And if it was, what in the world did Tobio have to be jealous of?

"Why the sour look, Hasegawa?" Ren snapped out of his daze, looking over to see Daichi standing there, smiling at him.

"Ah-sorry. I'm just nervous. Our debrief yesterday made Waku South seem really scary."

Daichi gave him a reassuring pat on the back, voice full of encouragement as he spoke. "Don't be stressed, Hasegawa! We'll do great against any opponent that's thrown at us. Just relax, do your best, and we'll come out on top."

"Thank you, Daichi." Ren nodded at the captain, feeling grateful. True, he wasn't really worried, but there was something about the third-year that just seemed to bring about a calming atmosphere regardless of what problem he was having. Daichi was a born leader, that was undeniable.

The referee's whistle blew, and Ren tossed his ball into the cart, moving onto court to  assume his position. He gave Tobio a final, quick glance as he did, exhaling. The first-year was acting odd, but he could only hope that such behavior wouldn't affect either of their gameplay. This match was crucial. Every qualifying round was. They couldn't afford to let outside emotions interfere.

Waku South served, and Daichi received it without issue. With the opportunity, Tobio and Hinata executed their quick attack, gaining Karasuno their first point of the match. It was a damn good point too, but Waku South didn't seem fazed. Ren frowned as he watched their captain reassure the team that they would get the next one. In all honesty, it almost looked as though they were excited to be playing Karasuno.

Do they see us as a powerhouse?

Ren couldn't help the glimmer of giddiness that flooded through him. Whatever the case, it was clear that this school had read up on them, and he couldn't be more thrilled. They were really making a name for themselves, evident from this very match.

I'll give them a game to remember, then!

Tobio gained hold of the ball, serving it. It wasn't a bad serve, not at all. And it appeared good enough, but it wasn't as sharp as Ren knew the first-year could be. Perhaps something really was wrong with Tobio.

A player with hair that resembled a pineapple rushed forward, and Waku South executed a combo attack, thwarting Asahi and causing the ace to miss his dive for the ball. Ren was standing on the opposite end of the court, too far to help, but he still felt a bud of frustration bloom. From their debrief, Karsuno had determined that Waku South had a challenging combo attack, and their captain was a god at midair battles.

But every team has a weak point. A chink in their armor.

Ren wet his lips, smiling, just slightly. Only thing left is to find it.

Waku South's captain began trading hits with Hinata. They were both on the shorter side, but both very capable of holding their ground when it came to fighting at the net. The point gap was never too wide, and though Ren managed to make up for a few of the hits that Hinata missed with his own cut shots and down shots, it wasn't often. And it certainly wasn't making too big of a difference. It felt as though both of their teams were just focusing on survival as opposed to winning.

And fuck, was that frustrating.

As of now, Karsuno had managed to obtain a two point lead, leaving the score at 19-17. Daichi served, and the other team hit a decent shot, but Ren got himself beneath it in time. Tobio set it to Asahi, who did well in his spike, but Waku South managed to receive it, albeit with a little difficulty.

Their captain went to hit, facing Asahi, Hinata, and Tobio in their three-person block. But he pulled off a wipe, sending the ball spiraling out of bounds.

Shit.

If they lost this point, they'd lose their edge. This was crucial, and none of them were allowed to fuck it up.

Daichi ran after the ball, sliding across the floor as he got it up, just a bit. Noya rushed after him, lobbying the ball a bit further, but definitely not high or controlled enough to hit.

Ren raced over. If they couldn't pull off an offensive attack with this ball, they were at least going to keep it alive. He dove, aiming to get the last touch and send a chance ball over. His direction and speed was perfect, and it would have been a perfect arching shot to the back corner of the opposite side.

But in the corner of his eye, he saw a clump of black. It appeared in a flash, and then, before he could realize what was happening, he felt the impact of a skull against his shoulder.

Throbbing pain shot up the side of his body, and he tumbled. Ren managed to catch himself before he got properly hurt, but it wasn't his own body that he was concerned about. He heard the ball fall on the opposite court distantly, scoring them the point, but he barely registered the action.

Because his wholehearted attention was focused on the collapsed captain in front of him.

Ren felt his body go rigid, hand clutching his shoulder in despair.

No...not again.

Beneath the fingers that were tightly gripping the spot where Daichi had rammed into him, he could feel his body shaking. He fucked up. Again. He fucked up. He'd been lucid, conscious. Perfectly in control of his body. He hadn't faltered. This had happened when he was perfectly normal.

Am I really so terrible of a hazard?

Does my existence alone truly endanger the people I love?

Ren gasped, a dry sound bursting from his lips. His hands moved to claw at his throat, trying to rip open his airways so he could take a breath, his chest heaving. His head was spinning, his eyes wetting and overflowing. He wanted to scream, but did he really deserve to call for help?

Not when this was

all

his

fault.

He reached out, stretching towards the hunched over figure of his captain, desperation lacing his movements. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

He made to move closer, but he suddenly felt as though he weighed a thousand kilograms, and stumbled, handing hard on his palms as he caught himself. His head hung low, hair tumbling over his face. He felt his vision blurring, and it hurt to breathe. Like the walls were closing in. As if he were falling. As if he were dying, over and over again.

He almost wanted to die over and over again.

He deserved to.

If he died, then perhaps his friends wouldn't be in harm's way anymore.

But then, right before it all went black, he felt the warmth of another body swallowing his own.

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