Kageyama was halfway down the stairs in the stadium before he realised Hinata wasn't next to him. He sighed at the prospect of having to find the noisy little midget in the midst of all the other teams milling around the entryway out of the rain that poured outside.

"Screw you, just because I'm short doesn't mean I can't play on the same level as you." His annoying screech made Kageyama sigh, relax and turn to see Hinata at the top of the stairs having an argument with someone he barely came up to the shoulders on. Kageyama bit back a snort of laughter and put on an intimidating scowl. Hopefully he could stop the argument and get Hinata to hurry the hell up. He could see Oikawa looking at him out of the corner of his eye and he didn't want to have to deal with two people who drove him up the wall on the best of days.

"Hinata, move it. We don't have time for this." Kageyama called, moving up one step and glaring into the eyes of the person Hinata had previously been yelling at. Hinata spun around, balanced precariously on the very top of the stairs and did his best to appear angry to Kageyama.

"But Kageyama, he's underestimating me because I'm short." He whined. Kageyama glared at Hinata instead and sighed.

"Good, that's why you're a decoy. We want people to underestimate you. That way it's not a disappointment when they're right." He shot back; Hinata fake gasped and clenched a hand in his shirt. The guy behind Hinata look angry at being ignored by them.

"Oh Kageyama-kun. How could say such a hurtful thing to me. Your other half. They key to your lock. The other side to your coin. The-." Hinata was cut off when the boy behind him shoved him in the back, launching him off the top of the stairs.

"Shut up short stack!"

"Hinata!" Kageyama ran up the stairs and caught Hinata's body and then the world was tumbling around him. Floor, walls, roof. Which way was up, which way was down? Kageyama could tell the difference, they all blurred together as he wrapped a protective arm around Hinata's head and body and held him to his chest. Pain filled his head and was he did not remember anything in the room being that particular shade of red.

Black…

Emptiness…

Nothing…

Hinata squirmed in Kageyama's lax grip at the bottom of the stairs. His body ached a bit but Kageyama wasn't moving. Neither an inch nor a centimetre. With his ear pressed against Kageyama's chest he couldn't hear the breath in his lungs nor beat of his heart. But maybe, hopefully, that was just because his own blood was rushing through his ears.

Hinata shakily got himself supported by his arms and someone was beside him, asking him if he was ok. No. He was just pushed down a flight of stairs. He was not ok. Since when was the floor red? Or wet? They really should have a warning sign up if the floor was wet, someone might slip.

Hinata looked up into Kageyama's face. His eyes were closed and slightly scrunched in pain, the rest of his face slack and unmoving. But the red was coming from him. Underneath him actually. Hinata reached for his head and turned his face towards the roof.

"Kageyama?" The gash on the side of his head was blurring. "Oi Kageyama." His voice was high and lush. "Bakageyama." He wouldn't even respond to Hinata shaking him. Someone was trying to move him away from Kageyama, telling him not to look. He shoved them away and sobbed into Kageyama's unmoving chest.

"Kageyama get up." He slammed his fist into Kageyama's chest and then someone was dragging him away from Tobio, his Tobio. Someone had locked his arms behind his head and was dragging him away from his partner. No matter how much he struggled he couldn't get away.

There were lots of people around him now, all trying their best to calm him down. He wouldn't listen. Nothing was more important than being with Kageyama Tobio. His setter, his best friend, his partner. Nothing in the world seemed more important than him in that one moment.

He didn't see Kageyama again. Just the elegant dark wood casket he was buried in. He quit volleyball; no other setter would ever match up. Karasuno jerseys 9 and 10 were never given out in the years following. The two never replaced, and when new members of the team asked about why numbers 10 and 9 were skipped over. The third years for three years running told them a story. A story of two enemies turned best friends. Of a bond between two inseparable people.

Their story became a legend in Karasuno and a tradition was formed. In a Karasuno uniform, 10 and 9 were never seen on court again.