Chapter 13

“If you don’t like it, just set it aside for a while,” Tetsu Oikawa said softly. “Your own body is what matters most.”

Though he said that, Oikawa found it hard to imagine what it truly felt like to hate something you once loved dearly.

He, too, had been trapped before, but even then, all he thought about was how to grow stronger step by step, to prove himself and shake off those who pursued him.

Would Tetsu Oikawa ever hate volleyball?

Perhaps not in this lifetime.

After spending time together recently, Oikawa understood perfectly well that Tetsuya Kuroko’s love for basketball was just as deep as his own was for volleyball.

And because of that, Oikawa knew all the more clearly that being shattered or trampled could never shake their resolve.

—they were the kind who could climb out of the abyss by following even the faintest thread.

Unless every last drop of their spirit and flesh was completely worn away, they would never give up.

But now, looking at Kuroko…

Oikawa felt truly drained, as if his own candle had burned out.

Kuroko’s face was buried in his knees, tears soaking the sheets.

He couldn’t stop crying, mourning as if for a passion that had died completely.

“Tetsuya Kuroko loved basketball more than anything!”

...

—Tetsuya Kuroko hates basketball now.

“Sigh...”

“Why are you so quiet over there?” Iwaizumi asked over the phone, full of confusion.

When they had spoken a few days earlier, Oikawa had made some noise at least, but today was eerily silent.

Moreover, Oikawa’s mood was low, lacking the zeal he’d shown when he first arrived in Tokyo.

Iwaizumi was worried.

The coach had so decisively approved Oikawa’s long leave because he’d looked defeated after yet another loss to Wakatari Ushijima — clearly shaken.

But getting away had seemed to help; for the first couple of days, Oikawa hadn’t thought about anything complicated, and every time he called back, it was about his beloved junior.

“Kuroko’s been hospitalized. I just finished the admission procedures and am heading back now. The hospital was almost closing,” Oikawa said with a bitter smile.

The emergency ward wasn’t suitable for patients to stay in, so they followed the doctor’s instructions to complete the proper admission paperwork.

For the next couple of days, they probably wouldn’t be able to go anywhere.

“Hospitalized? What happened?” Iwaizumi was startled.

He knew Kuroko had bumped his head that day, but hadn’t they said it was nothing serious?

Oikawa sighed deeply. “Too much pressure... Though it’s ultimately the arrogance of a genius, the whole situation at Teiko is quite chaotic when you sum it up.”

“It’s kind of like when Iwaizumi-san broke down, only... maybe even worse.”

Iwaizumi immediately sensed something serious was wrong. He had stood by Oikawa through his darkest times and knew how precarious Oikawa’s mental state had been then.

If this was worse than that...

“That’s definitely troublesome.”

Oikawa paused at Kuroko’s hospital room door, hesitating. “Tell me, what do I usually do when I’m feeling down?”

He wanted to comfort Kuroko the way he’d cheer up girls, but something about this didn’t feel right.

Iwaizumi thought carefully and offered an unsurprising answer: “Just play a good, hard volleyball game. After all, you’re a volleyball idiot.”

“Hey, Iwaizumi! How can you say that about me?” Oikawa protested.

But... volleyball?

Though it felt like taking advantage of the situation, sometimes the best way out of a painful swamp is to find something to distract you.

“But I didn’t bring a volleyball with me,” Oikawa sighed again.

His leave was pure rest; he hadn’t touched a volleyball in days, and his hands were getting itchy.

“You didn’t bring a ball? Why not just find a nearby club?” Iwaizumi’s tone was one of disbelief.

Oikawa suddenly realized: “Right!”

There were few volleyball clubs in Sendai, but Tokyo must have plenty!

Most clubs would have coaches who could even teach beginners like Kuroko.

“I’ll ask tomorrow if there’s a suitable club. Once Kuroko is discharged, I’ll take him there,” Oikawa decided, then said goodbye to Iwaizumi and opened the door in front of him.

Just like when he left, Kuroko sat there motionless, staring blankly at his phone, seemingly unaware of Oikawa’s entrance.

Oikawa handed over the medicine he’d picked up from the pharmacy. “Kuroko? I brought your medicine. Take it and get some rest.”

“Don’t overthink things. You shouldn’t wear yourself out. Also, what would you like for breakfast tomorrow?”

Kuroko registered Oikawa’s words slowly and replied faintly, “Anything is fine.”

He forced himself to regain some spirit, took the medicine without asking what it was, and swallowed it with water.

“Then I’ll get what I like,” Oikawa said, relieved after seeing Kuroko take the pills.

They weren’t controlled substances, just some mild sedatives—not enough to fix Kuroko’s mental state, but at least they’d help him sleep well.

“Thank you, Oikawa-senpai.”

“All right, now sleep,” Oikawa said, patting Kuroko’s head. “Give me your phone. Kids shouldn’t overthink things.”

Kuroko nodded: “Okay.”

To be honest, compared to the heart-wrenching pain he felt earlier, now he felt numb.

He thought his heart might never hurt again.

He was truly... exhausted.

Oikawa glanced down and noticed Kuroko’s phone had been repeatedly calling the same number since he woke up in the afternoon—206 times in total, none answered.

The contact was “Narihiro Ogiwara,” Kuroko’s childhood friend.

Oikawa fell silent for a long time.

For Kuroko, the pain wasn’t just about Teiko’s manipulation of the games, but also the guilt of possibly hurting his childhood friend.

Maybe the medicine worked quickly, or perhaps Kuroko was just too tired—shortly after taking the pills, he fell into a deep sleep.

As the clock on the wall struck half past eleven, Oikawa prepared to rest on the empty bed beside him.

Just then, a piercing phone ring startled him awake.

Still drowsy, Oikawa turned to see it was Kuroko’s phone.

The battery was fully charged; Oikawa unplugged it, took the phone with him out of the room, and answered the call with a distinctly displeased tone.

Before the caller could speak, Oikawa cut in sharply: “The number you dialed has been disconnected. Please do not call again. Thank you.”

“Hello! Kuro—”

The caller managed only two syllables before Oikawa decisively hung up.

He silenced the phone and returned to the room, pulling the blanket over Kuroko to continue resting.

Doesn’t anyone consider the time before calling?

On the other end, Ryota Kise, frustrated after hearing his call abruptly ended by a stranger, smashed his phone in anger.

Kuroko hadn’t been seen since the day he spoke with Akashi, and Kise had overheard from Miru Akutsu’s people that Kuroko was at the venue for the final match.

Recalling the ambulance siren he faintly heard in the locker room, Kise’s anxiety nearly peaked.

After attending the award ceremony and interviews, then returning to Teiko with the team for the leader’s commendation, it was already past nine when Kise got home.

Desperate, he kept calling Kuroko, but all he heard was, “The user you are calling is currently busy.”

That last call was the only one connected, only to be coldly rejected by a stranger.

“Ah... I’ve messed everything up,” Kise sighed, collapsing onto the sofa helplessly.

Kuroko was probably really mad.

Though he didn’t think he was wrong, Kise understood that Kuroko wouldn’t like these things.

His strange jealousy and the confirmation that Kuroko was absent had led him to suggest that plan hesitantly.

Midorima immediately and sternly rejected it, but the others were quite interested.

They even refused to pass any balls to Midorima during the game, fearing he would ruin their scoring scheme.

But in the end... it all fell apart.

#

“Hello, can I help you?” At the front desk of the Cat Youth Volleyball Club, the receptionist asked the clearly unfamiliar visitor, Tetsu Oikawa.

Holding a bag of breakfast, Oikawa inquired, “I want to know if there are any introductory volleyball classes for teenagers in the next few days? Something short-term, like a trial.”

This was the nearest club he could find, marked No. 3, probably part of a chain.

“What age group are you asking about?”

“About third-year middle school. He’s done some sports before but is new to volleyball,” Oikawa explained Kuroko’s situation roughly.

The receptionist handed him a flyer. “For third-year middle schoolers, you might consider our trial class at 9:30 a.m. the day after tomorrow. Currently, students range from first and second graders in elementary to middle schoolers. It lasts five hours and is free.”

“If satisfied, you can consider our three-week summer volleyball camp afterward.”

Oikawa took the flyer and read it carefully, lingering on the advisor section before flipping to the back.

All things considered, it seemed quite suitable, and the location wasn’t far—just five subway stops from his rented lodging.

Thinking this, he asked, “How are the court rental fees and deposits handled? For individual use.”

He felt he needed to warm up his hands; after so long without touching a ball, they felt rusty.

“We have a price list here, sir. Please take a look,” the receptionist handed him a booklet.

As they talked, the voices of youths arrived at the club entrance.

“Why’s today’s practice match held here?”

“No idea. Maybe the other school requested it.”

“Better to have a direct subway ride than a several-hour bus trip out of town.”

“Yeah.”