The Cat and the Crow

Just before the game versus Kamomedai, and while Kei had been distracted, Tetsu waved at Daichi to meet him at the sidelines. He knew Kei didn’t want anyone to know, and this could possibly make Kei mad at him for a while, but he’d be damned if he didn’t let someone else know. While he waited, his eyes zeroed in on Kei, who wasn’t doing too bad, but you had to look to see the signs.

“Hey Kuroo,” Daichi said as soon as he was close enough to be heard. Tetsu saw his expression go from curious to concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Before I tell you anything, act as if I’m giving you pointers or something.”

Daichi immediately looked thoughtful, and nodded. Tetsu grinned at his friend. “You should take up acting,” he said, earning a wry look from the Karasuno captain. “So look,” he started without preamble. “I need you to really keep an eye out for Kei, alright?” he asked, pantomiming blocks, receives, and even sets as he talked. “He told me not to say anything, but I’m worried he’s going to push himself too far.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Daichi asked pointedly, copying Tetsu, and adding a few hand signals.

“He’s sick. I don’t know how much, because, just from looking at him, he seems fine. He’s being stubborn about it, mostly because he doesn’t want to let the rest of you down.”

“Our Tsuki is finally a team player,” Daichi said proudly.

“Well, I think he always has been, to be honest. Just not in the way people would think.” He smiled at his fellow captain. “We’re seated pretty far back, but close enough that I can see what’s going on. If it comes down to it, just give me this signal,” and he hid partially behind Daichi so no one could see what he did. “I’ll be down as fast as I can.”

“I’m thinking that would happen without a signal,” Daichi said wryly.

“You’re not wrong,” Tetsu agreed. “Oh, yeah! Kei mentioned something about Chibi-chan also looking like he was sick. Maybe you should keep an eye on him, too?”

“Great. Two of our best players,” Daichi muttered. “Alright. I’m going to let Suga know. He can watch the two of them from the warm-up box. I’ll show him the signal, too.”

“That’ll work. Thanks, Daichi. And good luck out there.”

“Thanks, Kuroo.”

[The 3rd set]

“I’m not injured! I can still FLY!!”

Kei felt those words go straight to his heart. This little sparkplug of a player, with seemingly endless stamina, had finally tanked with a fever. Likely because he’d done it to himself, pushing and pushing and pushing. More, more, more! Halfway through the third set, Karasuno loses their best point-getter. Takeda-sensei was telling Hinata to go to the doctor; everyone on the team was telling him to get better and they’d do their best. Even Hoshiumi-san was telling him he’d be waiting for him to return. And everyone knew what he meant by that.

Kageyama, of course, said something about being on the court longer, and that he won again. Kei only had a vague inkling of what that meant, but when he focused on the King, he saw that he agreed with Hoshiumi-san. He’d be waiting for Hinata to come back.

How can I think myself any better? I’m still playing, and I’m just as sick, if not more so than Hinata. Why am I even still playing?

Kei looked at every last one of his teammates. He saw their determination to continue fighting, to stay in the game as long as they could. In each pair of eyes, he saw the flame of hope burning. Maybe, just maybe, they could still pull off a win. Even without Hinata. But also… for Hinata.

He glanced at the scoreboard. They had work to do, and he was the furthest thing from giving up. Snatching a towel off the bench, he wiped the sweat off his face, scrubbed the towel through his hair, and tried to take a few deep breaths. But even that hurt, and there was some wheezing as well.

Shit. That’s new. I can't breathe deeply. My chest hurts.

“Tsukishima.”

He turned to find Daichi and Suga close by. Both were looking concerned. They didn’t know, did they? They couldn’t have heard him.

“You don’t look so good. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he lied. “Just super tired. My legs hurt like hell, but…”

They both looked at him like they knew better. Like they knew he’d just lied to them. Neither of them showed a grain of disappointment. They understood the drive, the desire to keep playing.

“Never thought I’d see you act exactly like Hinata, Tsuki,” Daichi said with a little grin. “But I get it. We all do.” He glanced back at Coach, who was also staring at them. “You seem to be alright enough to keep playing, but it’s your call.”

“Does everyone know…?”

“Not exactly, no. You may be able to play, but you haven’t been your usual self. Everyone sees that, and is keeping an eye on you.”

“We just lost Hinata,” Suga said sternly. “We really can’t afford to lose you, too. But,” he said loudly over Daichi’s objection. “Your health comes first. We would rather you take care of yourself and sit out the rest of the game if it meant you didn’t tank like Hinata.”

Kei blinked, and then nodded. They really were like parents, and this team was really their family. He heard everything they were telling him. But…

“I’m fine,” he said again. “The minute I feel any different, I’ll let you know.”

Kei would never forget the way they managed to look understanding and frustrated all at once. But they did. He was sick, he knew that. Now, so did they. And yet, he still made the conscious decision to remain in the game, despite his health. He was being stupid; he was fully aware of that. He also knew that he didn’t want to give up. Not while they still had a chance.

[End Game]

Just one more point…

They were tied at 22-22. The rally was going on forever, and Tetsu was on the edge of his seat. His eyes would flick from player to player as the ball was saved from hitting the floor on each side, but for the most part, he kept watch over Kei. From where he sat with his team, it was too far to see his eyes, but there were other signs that things were getting worse.

Movement at the sidelines grabbed his interest; Bokuto and Akaashi had shown up, though he could guess they had been there the whole time. Just not in his sight range.

Then, he saw Karasuno start their approach for a synchro attack, and upon closer inspection, he saw Suga giving the sign he’d told Daichi to use. Without a word, Tetsu stood up and left, making his way to the sidelines as fast as he could and still trying to keep an eye on Kei. He reached Bokuto’s side at the same time he saw Kei hit the floor, clutching his leg.

“Leg cramp,” Akaashi said. “Do we go?”

“How can we not?” Bokuto answered.

“Let’s go,” Tetsu said, as soon as he saw Kiyoko helping Kei to the bench. Without any regard to rules or officials yelling at them to stop, they ran to Kei.

“It’s just a leg cramp, guys. I’ll be okay,” Kei muttered.

“You look like shit, Tsuki,” Bokuto said harshly. “Why did you push yourself?”

“I… I don’t know…” Kei answered weakly. “They… needed me…”

By that time, the rest of the team had gathered around them. Tetsu had sat down on the bench next to Kei, an arm around to support him.

“He’s burning up,” he told them. “He needs to see the doctor.”

“I… can still fly,” Kei’s voice was no more than a whisper. His breathing was labored, his lips were tinged with blue, and he’d slumped over onto Tetsu. “I… can still fly.”

“That’s what Hinata said before he was told he couldn’t play, “Suga said. “Must have resonated with Tsuki if he’s repeating it.”

“We should have stopped him,” Daichi added. “Why didn’t we stop him?”

“I doubt he would have listened to you, Daichi,” Akaashi answered.

Tetsu said nothing, just kept his arms around Kei. Which was how he knew when his fiance lost consciousness.

“Guys, he passed out! We need to get him out of here, now! Get Akiteru; call mom.”

Coach Ukai ran to the refs, who in turn called the infirmary. The gym was nearly silent; all games had paused due to the commotion they’d caused; there was no one who wasn’t watching. Soon, a stretcher showed up and they loaded Kei onto it, quickly and carefully carrying him off the court.