for as long as you can remember you have covered your bed in numerous pillows. you can't recall the night that you got into the habit of covering your head with all those pillows, smashing them against your head and ears so you wouldn't hear the yelling going on down stairs. at first their quarrels had been whispered, but eventually, little by little, night after night, they grew in noise every night after they thought you were asleep already. you don't know why they are fighting, you try so hard to block out the arguments. eventually you fall in to a restless nights sleep full of shouting voices, yelling words you don't understand.
you don't know why your parents are so unhappy, you don't know why they fight so much, you just know that eventually the fights don't just happen every other night, or only at night at all. when they start in on each other you just head to the park to go play, they don't notice you're gone, they don't worry about you, at least you don't think they do. you always return before the sun goes down so they don't worry, so they don't have one more problem to fight over. you stop asking for things, instead they just give you an allowance every week to do with as you please. it's not like the money can buy you two happy parents though.
at school you put on a brave face like everything is okay, because you can't allow people to know the truth. every word out your mouth is a joke or a jab, because perhaps if you make other people laugh and feel good, you'll feel good too. but thinking about your parents and how all they ever do is fight, it gives you headaches when you can't get away from them and so you do your best to shut them out. sometimes you find yourself wishing that they would just split up so that they would stop fighting. but they don't, and you have to deal with it, live through it, more than that you have to prosper despite it. just because they aren't happy, does that mean you can't be either?
superstitions dictate that you should take another route when a black cat crosses your path, but superstition never said not to follow where the cat led. you were on your way to the playground when it happened, all you wanted to do was pet it, to play with it for a bit. your parents would never allow for you to have a pet, and you would never ask, but you've always wanted one. but the cat just keeps walking away from you, and single mindedly you just follow it, and leads you to one of your neighbors backyards and stops at the feet of a boy you've probably seen at school before, but he's younger then you and you can't be sure.
you ask if the cat is his and he shakes his head, still looking at the screen of his psp. all the same you pet the cat sitting by his feet, and when it finally wanders off you turn to him and ask him what he's playing. you ask him a lot of questions, even though he only looks up at you once, even though he replies with the shortest answer possible, you just continue to talk to him. it alright that he doesn't talk much, you can fill every silence with your own voice and it doesn't seem to irritate him or send him running off because he doesn't want to talk to you, so you secretly believe that despite his aversion to speaking, he does want to talk.
finally you ask the only question that got him to look up that first day: 'do you ever hear them fighting'? when he looks up, you look down. he avoids the question, instead he tells you his mother made his favorite, apple pie for after dinner and that you should come in and get some, and maybe play some video games with him. you don't think about it until later, the look of surprise on his mother's face, the way she all to happy to give you both some pie, even though neither of you have had dinner yet, that she is happy to see another child in her home. honestly they're both sweeter than the pie, which is pretty good. they invite you to stay for dinner, and after calling your parents, you accept. even though kenma only says a handful of words at first you like him, and you wanted to believe he liked you too.
one day a while after you and kenma started hanging out together, you see a game of volleyball on tv, and you'r so amazed by it you use your saved allowance to buy a volleyball. there is a net at the park that you two can play with, but you know it's going to be tough convincing kenma to do more than stay inside and play video games. but you do convince him, you're probably the only person who could. but you're so animated, describing all the things you saw on tv so excited to try them out with him, and you pester him nonstop until he consents. you want to be as good as the players you saw on tv, and you tell kenma that by the time the two of you are in high school, you'll be able to do the things they did and more.
the two of you go on to play for your middle school volley ball club, though kenma is more than reluctant. you know how he hates to ware himself out and yet you ask this of him anyway, and like the best friend that he is he complies. together with your team you both get better, but of course you are a year older than kenma and go off to high school before he does, but you make him promise he'll keep playing so when he joins you at nekoma you can both be great together. as a first yeah in high school you flourished, you grew a lot that summer and were one of the tallest first years, you even got to play a couple times that year even before the third years left. no matter how tired you were after your practice you always went to see kenma, to tell him about your day, hear about his, and play more volleyball, just to make sure he wasn't skimping on practice.
in your second year kenma joined you at nekoma, and you couldn't have been happier to have your best friend and setter back. you watched as he struggled for the first time, like trying to keep his head above water, because the new third years were mean, they didn't see his potential like you did. of course you stood up for fim, reassured him that you and the other second years appreciated him, told the third years to back off, and kept him from quitting by doing so. you know kenma will never admit it but you can see it in his eyes, the way you see everything about him in the light variations to his stoic facial expressions, you see how much he likes volleyball, and you couldn't let him quit, not when all you wanted sense the beginning was to always play with him.
it's your third and final year of high school and you are determined to play ever game you can, to even stay into the spring tournament rather than quit club like some third years choose to. you made captain, and you want to lead your team to victory. perhaps you are corny, kenma rolls his eyes in testament to this before evrey game when you make your little motivational speech, but you are also passionate and you want to win. at the same time though you're a good person, the kind and generous sort, and a good sportsman. you would rather take on the best, even if you have to give them pointers than watch someone fail when you could have helped.
that's how you feel about karasuno, in part because they could be worthy rivals with a little prunning and partly because you know the moment you find kenma that first day talking to hinata that kenma has just made a new friend. the year is rolling by in a flash and the print tournament was right around the corner. the last thing you remember before being pulled out of your world, and finding yourself stranded in the streets of terminus is the bar b q after the week long training camp with karasuno, and some of the other teams in the tokyo division. you don't know what got you put here or if you'll ever get back, and that drives you crazy because you miss your friends, your team, your best friend.
a part of you figured settling in terminus would be for the best, that surely if there was anywhere kenma would be it would be here. but you've been here a couple of weeks now, even found a job at a resturant, and are trying to make a life for yourself here. but it all feels so weird, when back home you had a family, you had him and now you have no one really. but you've never been the type to get down trodden, you keep your head up and you wait good things will happen, or at least you hope so.