kageyama tobio (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tyrannise) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
yongenjaya2024-01-17 04:44 pm
tyrannise) wrote in yongenjaya2024-01-17 04:44 pmvolleyballing
putting some normies in a Situation
tyrannise) wrote in yongenjaya2024-01-17 04:44 pm
no subject
But now, it's literal: the world ends during a volleyball match.
It just starts out as a rumor, a rumbling of an epidemic that'd arrived through a Yokohama port, unnerving enough that they'd all masked up on the bus to the tournament, but so vague in its details over the past weeks that no one seemed genuinely worried. One of their venues changes from Tokyo to a remote coliseum; some of the boys complain about the lack of pizzazz. It's only during warm-ups that there's some concerned whispering and checking of phones (which Kageyama doesn't even notice, his focus well and truly on the upcoming match), a few murmurs of of lockdown and some videos that everyone claims must be fake, but—are they really?
It's not until after the first serve of the game (which he nails, thanks) and the following, fierce rally that something shifts. Even he has to pause when the ref straightens up suddenly, whistle still hanging off their lip, looking into the stands when someone collapses and others crouch beside them in a flurry of concern. At first, Kageyama is only annoyed at losing his rhythm. But then it's clear that something is wrong, and the noise of the game is overrun by the noise in the stands and the sickly person who'd fallen is slowly stirring again, even when they should be waylaid judging by the foam at the corner of their mouth and a strange, milky sheen in their eyes, a strange jerking in their limbs like each is acting independent of the other.
And then they attack the man holding them, and all hell breaks loose.
Some adults rush over to try and contain the situation, and others run away, but the boys teams are all shooed off the gym floor for safety before any of them knows what's really going on. It's just noise building on noise, and he doesn't even know where the rest of the Karasuno team ends up in the burgeoning chaos of it all as people are bumped and elbowed and corralled in urgent, completely disorganized chaos, and now it's just him and Hinata, because whether he wants to admit it or not they're always gravitating around each other.
Not that he's relieved at a familiar face being around. Absolutely nothing like that. ]
Oi— [ He pulls Hinata firmly aside out of the stream of confused teens by the jersey sleeve. He hears something that might be a scream from well behind them, back in the gym. ] What the hell is this? Did you see what happened?
[ Must've been a big deal to interrupt their game. ]
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shoyo hinata’s chest sank straight to his gut when the screams started, even if it was behind them, ushering those with uniforms away until one too many teams started to mesh into a multicolored wave of heads pulling left and right. it was even easier for him to get pushed and carried away, lost even, as small as he was— hardly anyone would really hear his yells of question. shoyo’s anxiety was beginning to spike down to making his stomach feel terribly queasy, until someone— thank god, kageyama, someone he knew— was the one to pull poor shoyo out of the crowding.
he could breathe now, but barely. not when what echoed under the dome of the court wasn’t getting any better. people were getting afraid. they were sounding off, terrified, and that emotion quickly seeps into hinata’s core like a sponge. ]
N—no, I— [ he thought he saw flashes of orange and followed, but that’s long since disappeared from his sights. ] I lost everyone else, I, [ and with a dry swallow, too loud in his ringing ears, ] I don’t like this.
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They're not playing volleyball right now, but he knows that Hinata's instincts are still sharp, like a fox ready to dash back into its hole at a moment's notice. Better to listen to him. It's obvious this is all... wrong. ]
Yeah. [ They can agree this time. There's the smash of something heavy—for some reason, people are barricading the door behind them with a locker room bench, which is not doing much at all. ] They're... trying to keep someone out?
[ Actually, he can't tell exactly—there's an absolute ruckus going on outside now, banging that rattles the door on its hinges and shouts that overlap too much to make out any singular word. It doesn't actually sound like someone. It's more than that. It's too much all at once to process except that it's very, very wrong, the sort of intense unrest he expects from an earthquake but nothing is shaking. A nervous swell ramps up in him fast, but at least he's not the type to key up on the energy of the crowd, eyes darting around. ]
—Hey! [ He snaps his fingers just by Hinata's ear, hoping the sound carries over the unsettled rumbling around them. If nothing else, they need to get out of the way before a stampede happens. The last thing he needs is for Hinata to get trampled because people are panicking. ] We can't stay here.
[ There's a door to the side, one ignored because the group has become a singular mind of fear, leading out into a service hall. He's not above forcibly dragging Hinata by the arm with him—and not a moment too soon, because it sounds like the barricade really isn't working. ]
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metal clatters and voices bellow, and just as shoyo hopes he could take a few seconds to relax, recharge and reset his breathing, he . . . sees something. he hears it. it’s an ugly sound, of gurgling and screaming, of someone getting tackled or strangled or— something, he didn’t catch it all with clarity. but the blue at the corner of his eye, of someone completely . . . wrong spooks shoyo just as easily as a horror movie jump scare.
now he’s the one charging, and pulling kageyama with him. please don’t follow them, please don’t follow them— ]
Door door door door—!
[ that is too much to hope for. there is someone . . . something . . . groaning down the hall, after the voice and echoing footsteps. ]
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He barely even spots a flash of discolored flesh, stunned still for a half-second by the sound, which is more than enough time for Shoyo to bolt, reacting faster than Kageyama does this time; he's jerked along into a full-on sprint, startled back into awareness. ]
Wh— [ He hasn't even processed what they're running from. Even if he got a good look at it, he's not sure he'd really know what it was. It'd be as easy as taking a look behind them, because whatever is there isn't letting up, even as they basically smash through a door and then stop long enough to slam it closed, his hands strangely cold as he works the lock in place. ] Who was that—!?
[ It's about three seconds before the door suddenly clatters, a body thrown at it with no hesitation, like whoever'd been following them hadn't even seen it there and rammed into the wood full-force. The sound alone makes him jump, backing away quickly; the creak of the burdened lock doesn't help. But what's worse is the sight through the small peekhole window in the door—it's just enough to see a little of a man's face, a suffocated, blueish sheen starting across his skin.
There's blood on the glass. There's nothing in the one, glassy eye he can see. Whoever this lunatic is, he's still after them, hands scrabbling against the door. Even if Kageyama's getting better about his hair-trigger emotions these days, his heart feels like it's hitting his ribs. ]
...There has to be another exit. [ This can't be real. They'll get out and everyone else will have evacuated in the parking lot, watching on like they'd just escaped a fire or something normal. He runs over to the nearest few doors, opening them blindly—they're supply closets, mostly. Dead ends. But there's another bang, so he jolts and grabs... what is there? It's a supply closet? He grabs a fire extinguisher. Hinata can have a broom or something; he's assuming he's hanging in there and not busy having a heart attack. In the meantime, there's a shuffling ahead, quiet; a woman, dragging her feet with unnatural slowness as though she were in a daze, blood all down the front of her shirt. He doesn't spot her right away in the absence of screaming and groaning. ] Listen—hit that guy with a mop if he gets close. Or... anything! We're getting out of here.
[ He's not scared, he tells himself. It's easier to pretend, at least, when he's got someone to act tough at. ]
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[ mop. a mop. a broom— anything with a handle and shoyo’s grabbing for it, awkwardly holding it in front of his chest at an angle, as his knees buckled and his heart sank uncomfortably into his gut again. ]
B-but what if I get arrested—?!
[ it’s easier to think about the probable than something as out of the ball park as this was starting to look. maybe— he’s just dreaming. he’s just in bed, having the absolutely worst nightmare and he can’t wake up from it.
the shambling woman, from the corner, stops to assess the boys— before she starts shuffling over, slowly enough with her awfully twisted ankle and sickly complexion. oh, god she’s coming right for them, causing shoyo to step back and bump his back against kageyama’s with a rising shriek-sound just behind his throat. ]
Okay okay this is a great Resident Evil Prank youcanstopnowmissIIIII—!!
[ she’s not stopping. shoyo squeezes his eyes shut, takes a wack at her, and just. screams. this was real. the thud was real. the thwuck was real and the splat was real and if he wasn’t concerned about dying, he’d be hurling right now. well. maybe later that’s still in the cards. ]
Openthedooropebthedooropebthefloor!!
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[ He's pretty sure they'll be forgiven for defending themselves. He thinks no one would press charges even if they beat the living daylight out of whoever was behind this ridiculous joke. (He does not think this is a prank, but the hope is there, futile and shrinking by the second.)
—Especially when the deathly pale woman is right in front of them, reaching out with nails that look like they're going green in their beds. He's surprised that Hinata actually manages to hit her. Not incredibly hard, but she's already wobbly, and it does the job. The woman would probably be faster if her leg wasn't screwed up, ankle so swollen it barely narrows from her calf. And when she whirls on impact, he spots it—there's so much blood on her back that her clothes are suctioned to her body with red, making it hard to see where one wound ends and another begins.
The smell—coppery and thick—is nothing like a nosebleed or a scraped knee. It's new and nauseating. He doesn't know how anyone could move in her state. His eyes widen when she stumbles and then keeps on after them anyway, lunging forward face-first with an audible snap-clack of her teeth, narrowly missing them both before they sprint away; he's suddenly grateful for all their stupid races. Both of them could probably outrun most of the crowd here, and that's what takes them to the next door up into a stairwell.
He locks the door behind them again, and his breath feels thin when he pulls it into his lungs. There's no time to wait for his heart to even out, no time to deal with the bile it seems to push up his throat with all its beating. They could get up to the roof from here, see what's going on, and take the fire escape down if they had to. It's not like they have the option to go back, anyway.
More importantly, the chaos hasn't permeated the stairwell yet—the only sound is his footsteps as he urges them up and onward, mind racing to make sense of what they'd just seen—what they'd just narrowly avoided. He's riding on adrenaline. It's all that keeps his nerves at bay, his voice tight but not trembling. ]
Was... Just now. Was she trying to bite us?
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I-I, [ he doesn't focus his eyes; he doesn't know what to think, ] think she's like, one of those— sick people, from horror games, [ his chest and gut ice over with dread, an impending urgency that doesn't feel real and yet . . .
the door at the end of the flight felt like a near breath of fresh air to slam into, swing open with their combined weight, and shut tight. oh, crap, do they need something to close it with? where are they going to find that?
(there's something worse they have to face) ]
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But his throat closes instead of allowing out a scoff, and he doesn't shake off the tight, squeezing tug of a Hinata's hand clutching his jersey. ]
...That's stupid.
[ His grumbling doesn't sound convinced. He doesn't even set down the fire extinguisher as he scans the perimeter of the roof, grabbing some abandoned two-by-four from some old, forgotten restoration project to shove through the door handle. While the door itself is heavy, is that secure enough? Nothing feels like enough. He has to scramble to look for more, but.
But. What's worse is that they're outside now, and—it's not like the threat is contained in the gym, locked tight and quarantined in this one athletics center. The chaos leaks out of the building, and the confused screaming and groaning and whatever else is no longer muffled by doors and walls, but only the distance from the roof to the ground. He peeks out over the edge, and sees people running with such urgency that they're practically tripping over their own feet, chased by... more of those sick people. The ones with cooling, graying skin. Some of them are faster than the ones who'd been after him and Hinata earlier, more vigorous in their—their what? Malice?
Hunger?
He watches as a young man in an unfamiliar jersey stumbles over a sidewalk edge, that half-second enough for someone else to lunge on him; they wrestle in a frenetic flurry of motion. He's never seen a person attack someone else so... viscerally. So clearly with the intent to injure and maim and push fingers and teeth into flesh. Kageyama, for all that he's able to steel his nerves during a game, freezes for a moment, stunned into blank, thoughtless silence as violence fans out in all directions below them.
What the hell. ]
emeto here in case you need that warning ;)
it was one thing to see horror and violence unfold in the safety of one's household or at an arcade, behind a glass screen. another was when it was happening so . . . so close. just below their feet, on the street some floors down. hinata feels the combined dizziness from the height and attack shoot down to an awful spin in his gut. moments later, he has to dash further into the roof's middle and off to the side to spill bile at his feet. the acrid smell is nauseating and makes him want to empty his stomach until there's nothing left. a shame, or luck, that it was empty to begin with. ]
This can't be happening . . . [ this was no game. this was worse than the game. what about his mom? natsu? the team? his school? never mind that— their whole lives are about to change. ] I-I need to get home, I—
[ he could still hear that curling scream from ground zero until the eerie silence that told them everything. ]
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Where can they even run to?
He stumbles back from the edge lest he risk falling off of it, suddenly lightheaded. Hinata's heaving, but it sounds distant; for a moment, everything seems faraway. He barely feels present in his own body. It's weird. He's usually so aware of his physical condition, and now he can barely feel the tips of his fingers with how cold they've gone.
The only thing keeping him present, mentally, is a sudden reminder that Hinata is here. ]
You're not going anywhere! If you rush down there, you're— [ he stumbles over his own tongue, wrestling with the word a second ] dead.
[ Kageyama is not calm. He is holding a fire extinguisher like he'll die the instant he lets go. He worries his lip with his teeth and doesn't look off the roof again, trying to think but mostly wishing the rest of the team were here. ]
We... have to be smart about this.
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while he’s catching his breath, hinata doesn’t feel levelheaded, he feels uncomfortably light. like he’d fall again, like he was sick and didn’t take care of himself. worse, he couldn’t think even if he forced himself to. all he could muster was the horrible squeeze of emotion in his chest, how ice cold it was— and how it pricked stinging tears into the corners of his eyes. ]
Th-then . . . Then what? We camp here? G-go down, when— when it’s clear?
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I don't know— [ He doesn't know? How should he know? He clams up instead of lashing out, silent for several drawn seconds, glaring at the concrete like there's a solution there. It takes another moment to suck in a deep breath. ] Yeah. I guess.
[ Even he can hear the waver in his voice, and he swallows hard to try and smother it. ]
In games and... stuff. Zombies have weaknesses, don't they? [ Some don't move during certain times of the day, or only react to loud noises, or whatever. His zombie media literacy is limited, but there has to be something to work with. ] We can watch from here and move when we see an opening.
[ However, this means planting himself over by the edge of the roof again. To... observe. It takes a long, reluctant moment to do so, but he forces himself to look. Hinata, though—could Hinata do the same?
How is he going to cope with any of this, really? ]
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i don't think i can look again, hinata thinks. he just. just thinking about it makes him want to hurl another time, over the edge. the combination of dread and height that makes his feet go cold has him further away from the edge, but not far enough that he can't be by kageyama. it's the only stronghold of support he had left— he was never leaving his side, at this rate. he's side by side with the other teen, watching their backs with his eyes pinned to the door they came from.
but, for now, shoyo works himself out, and steels his nerves in preparation to look with his partner, just. just not at this instant. observing was the most important part of learning, and he learned so much when it had to do with a ball. looking at a zombie apocalypse without vomiting, now that was going to take a little extra. ]
Some of them, like . . . D-don't like loud noises. [ but that's not exactly a weakness. more like a weakness for them, he survivors. ] And, um. Headshots? I think?
[ he's a big baby. he doesn't do gory video games by himself, but he's seen a couple. friends, and such. ]
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But it doesn't feel right. He can barely keep his eyes looking ahead, fighting to keep his gaze from drifting towards a treeline or a car or anything else instead of at the walkers below. He doesn't have the confidence to lead Hinata around, at least not yet. Besides, it'd be—cruel, probably. Even by Kageyama's standards. He takes a deep breath, lungs crackling. ]
Tch—like knocking off someone's head is that easy.
[ As for noise, that's easy enough to test. He throws a spare two-by-four off the roof, and it smack-skips hard on the pavement below them. Some of the shambling zombies jerk towards the loud clatter, reacting with the thoughtless immediacy of a pack of animals.
But there's a small huddle of monsters staying where they are, too busy crunching down on a recent victim, mouths and fingers busy tearing, consuming, and he quickly hits the heel of his palm to his mouth, not quite able to stop the lurch in his stomach; he retches, dizzy and pale, reminded very clearly that for as unflappable as people like to accuse him of being sometimes, this is not a volleyball court, and he's felt fear as much as any other teenage boy for lesser things.
He manages—barely, mostly because he hasn't eaten in hours—to keep from puking too, stubbornly looking around. ]
...They're slower than us. If it's you and me, we can cause a distraction and find a chance to sneak down the fire escape. [ Coach Ukai and the others have to be around, right? And both he and Hinata are fast. Two of the fastest. He didn't think of how important that would ever be. ] You think you can do that without making a racket, loudmouth?
[ There's no real venom in his insults right now—he can't even turn to face Hinata to bark and snap at him. It just feels better to talk like this. ]
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he closes one more gap by inhaling, holding, and then turning himself around to face the city. the ruckus is far enough from crystal clear detail that he could avoid some of it, perhaps focus on the less densely populated alleyways for a pathway, for a getaway. that's something worth focusing on, right? the sooner they find one, the faster they'll leave.
the floor is a massive court. they just have to see it that way. ]
. . . Bet I'll be quieter than you. [ he hopes they're both equally quiet this time, though. and equally fast. ] Just— keep up.
[ please. he means that. seriously. it's the one time he doesn't want to win. but maybe . . . they could use that to do better. ]
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He finally turns to face him, a threat standing resolute in his posture. ]
...You're the one who'd better not fall behind.
[ Hinata isn't allowed to lose today. Kageyama is always moving forward, trying to keep his meager lead on their hundreds of silly (and not so silly) competitions. But it's not like he wants to completely outpace him. Especially not here, like this.
No, it's always been about staying at each others heels, getting faster by chasing at someone else's back or at their side. If they survive this, it won't be alone. He goes back to scanning the perimeter of the building, pacing now and trying to be more analytical than disgusted. He finds himself looking for things—sidewalks and bushes they can escape through, but also familiar faces. Things they can pick up that have fallen out of people's pockets. Maybe they can nab a phone.
It feels wrong to think this way, but the thought of leaving the rooftop makes him very aware of how exposed and unarmed they are. ]
Let's figure out a route.
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Society crumbles at a ravenous clip—he barely gets in touch with Miwa, his parents, and some of the other Karasuno boys before the local cell towers go down. Trains stop mid-track and there's talk of military quarantines clogging up major highways, but he doesn't see how that keeps the zombies in or out, and all it really means is they won't be able to get back to Miyagi. Some insist there will be a cure, locked in their homes and trying to win a battle of attrition against the apocalypse. Some leave to near-mystical 'safe zones' as rumored by the government. Others accept this is the end of days. They loot, they steal. They die in their beds on their own terms.
For two people in an unfamiliar city, here for a tournament away game gone very wrong, they don't have much choice: Kageyama and Hinata are left wandering, and surviving.
Whether they're alone or find other survivors to camp with—and if it's the latter, it's always just for a few nights, because no one agrees on what to do or where to go and, he learns quickly, people are selfish when faced with the end of everything—the two of them end up on supply runs more often than not. They're spry and (relatively) strong. Even if Hinata is small, he's getting better and better at defending himself, and less and less likely to lose his lunch in the process.
More importantly, they're both quick; surviving is about avoiding the zombies and having the stamina to make a break for it, not bashing heads open at any opportunity. He can trust Hinata, both as a scrappy lil' fighter and as a partner. They learn not to bicker aloud. Not when they're moving. Not until they've made it into an abandoned convenience store, its lights flickering on intermittently, a dying gasp of power in the city's grids.
Kageyama keeps a sports bag with essentials slung over his shoulder and a crowbar in hand, tense all down his arms to his knuckles, but when he scans over the shop to see nothing lurking there... he turns to Hinata, who's been playing lookout around the corner. ]
Hey! [ less of a shout, more of a... loud, urgent whisper ] Get in here, it's clear. [ no zombies in sight, yet. ]
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they didn't have time for that these days. usually. they'd spend them foraging and keeping on high alert, or hushing to themselves at night when they couldn't sleep, or took turns with their naps. at least during the day, they'd move around, and they'd be quick about it.
when kageyama hushes for him, he quickly turns his half-crouched body to face him, and just as quickly (but not without caution) does he make his way over to accompany his partner, shutting any doors in silence behind them, and with the biggest sigh of relief, feeling more at ease now that their side by side again. ]
Over there's clear too. [ so that's a plus! ] Think there's more stuff left?
[ sometimes, they weren't exactly lucky. ]
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Like, maybe someday things will be normal enough again to just play volleyball.
Amidst the leftover goods, he does find something nice though: a nailcare set. It has a little pair of clippers and a glass file and a cuticle pusher he won't use. It makes him weirdly emotional for a second. A nail file is doing this to him. Stupid. ]
...Looks like it. Lucky break.
[ More promisingly, the pharmacy section hasn't been completely picked clean—doesn't seem like people have raided this building yet. He rips open the packaging, talking to Hinata as he does so. ]
People probably got scared off. We might be able to stock up.
[ They had to sneak past a number of walkers to get here at all. But if they aren't bold, they won't have anything to eat; there's already too many days they have to ration food. ]
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[ shoyo says with a curt gesture to kageyama's fingers— unless he's been chewing on them like shoyo has on occasion out of a need for some kind of outlet. now came the "fun" part which felt more like the anticipation felt when waiting and hoping for a gift: scavenging proper. there are good finds. shoyo leaves his bat against the start of an isle as he splits his backpack open to throw in the goods: some bandages, miniature hand sanitizer, oh—! they may have dinner for a few nights: pre-packaged onigiri still under the expiration date. a few more mundane hygiene items make the cut, but there is one single, stupid little thing that makes shoyo break out a noise.
a rising ahhhh!!! that starts out loud and cuts off after remember he shouldn't be loud, but he can't help it, and the little bounces propelling his sneakers a few feet off the ground in child-like excitement when he finds—
an inflatable volleyball that's probably for babies, holding the tight packaging up at kageyama with silent but completely readable eyes. it doesn't have the same weight, nor the same feel, but desperate times do call for desperate measures. and satisfaction in simplicity. ]
Look look look look—!!
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But it also makes him grateful for any tiny win that they can get. Whether it's a nail file, or the tube of disinfectant he finds under some Salonpas patches, or the instant cream stew mix that he's shoving into his backpack—they all feel like tremendous wins.
Even then—none of them come even close to what Hinata manages to snag. Once Kageyama gets over his initial surprise (where he whips around at the muffled shout, and has a moment of sheer scrambled panic where he reaches for his crowbar and nearly screams when Hinata shoots into the air—man, he can still jump—), he stares at the ridiculous packaging for the silliest little volleyball. A moment of silence passes. And then he's looking right back with the same, completely predictable excitement, his eyes wide and mouth wobbled into an excited, uneven line. ]
No way.
[ He's immediately coming over to get a better look, crowding up next to Hinata to study the package. The inflatable stuff would never be as good as the real thing, with its lines drawn on and a cheap, plastic shell, and a month ago he wouldn't be caught dead using one. But these are desperate times, and his expression is both bright and impatient. ]
What are you waiting for? Blow one up! [ This is a terrible idea, but they've been surviving rather than living for what feels like ages. Even a little bit of fun feels like something worth risking life and limb for. ]
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he turns absolutely red with how fast he's trying to blow this baby back to life, all while exchanging glances to kageyama— he could barely keep his cheeks from hurting as he both smiled and tried to blow. eventually, sooner rather than later, they have their crude little inflatable volleyball copy, slapped against the floor a few times by shoyo's eager palms before he keeps onto the balls of his feet in ecstatic hops, and asks: ]
Toss it to me!! Toss it to me!!