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It’s towards the end of their two hour practice. The Karasuno volleyball team is finishing out with a practice match, the team divided against each other. The ball is coming back over the net, easily received by Sugawara in the back row, and even with his experienced pass, the ball is going to fall just slightly too far to Tobio Kageyama’s left. Stuff happens.
In the current rotation, Tobio is in the front middle, with Azumane to his left and Hinata to his right. It’s pretty much a perfect storm. (He has no idea.) Tobio jumps to backset the ball to Hinata, a practiced and precise leap in just the right direction. It’s a perfect set, and he expects nothing less of himself, but his landing is… less perfect. Azumane and Hinata are both seemingly going for the kill as the ball floats off his fingertips in the direction of the latter.
He can only assume that Hinata hits the ball like it insulted his mother, but he doesn’t see what happens because he tweaks an ankle as he lands, sending him stumbling into Azumane as the older boy finishes his decoy spike, right elbow coming down hard right above Tobio’s temple.
Sharp pain explodes in the right side of his head, and he cries out involuntarily. He doesn’t fully register that he’s curled up on his side on the ground, arms raised above his head now, protecting against a blow that already came, until he feels a smaller hand shaking his shoulder and distant voices calling his name and asking if he’s okay. Or maybe the voices aren’t so distant. His ears were ringing, but it’s slowly subsiding now, he thinks.
It’s Hinata shaking him gently from behind. “Crap! Are you okay Kageyama?!”
Tobio squints his eyes open to see Azumane crouching in front of him with his hands covering his mouth, looking extremely worried and guilty. “Oh no, I’m so, so sorry, Kageyama, are you alright?”
His voice is quivering a little, and Kageyama can’t help but feel bad for him, even if his head was still sparking with pain and even if black spots were dancing around in the right side of his field of vision. They both know it was just an accident.
All Kageyama has to do now is get up, and shrug it off. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he grits out, eyes still squinting as he pushes himself into a sitting position.
There’s suddenly a steadying hand on his back. “Woah, kiddo, you sure you don’t need to sit out for a bit? You took a pretty hard hit…”
Ukai hovers as Kageyama struggles to stand up, even with Hinata latched onto one arm and pulling him off the floor. Once he’s up, the pain is sharper for a second, but it starts to throb away. He feels a little dizzy, and he still can’t see too well out of his right eye, but it’s probably just a fluke, he thinks. He just needs to push through practice, which is over in like, less than 20 minutes at this point.
“No, seriously, I’m okay. I don’t think it was that bad, just got knocked over a little.”
He’s not swaying on his feet the second Hinata lets go of him. He’s not.
Ukai raises an eyebrow, but says, “As long as you’re sure. Tap out if you need to, and put some ice on it at home tonight.”
Tobio nods, but only once because he realizes quickly that it’s excruciatingly painful. Like daggers in his eyes every time his head bobs forward.
“I’m so sorry, man,” Azumane says again.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Tobio manages to keep playing for maybe another two or three minutes before the dizziness becomes too much. There’s a sharp pull in his stomach and his head is suddenly pounding and the entire right side of his field of vision is completely black. He receives a serve and something about the movement makes him gag, and with no warning he’s stumbling toward the gym exit, barely making it outside before his knees slam into the concrete and he’s on all fours throwing up. His arms shake beneath him as he heaves, and the pain in his head has become a different beast.
He’s not aware of it, but he’s sobbing between dry heaves now, tear tracks on his cheeks.
There’s a hand on his back again. The same one from earlier. His ears are ringing painfully again, but he wants to hear his teammates or his coach or literally anyone, because he certainly can’t see them at this point and he’s now feeling pretty panicked.
Maybe it’s for the better, because unbeknownst to Tobio, his teammates are too shellshocked to say anything, and Ukai is telling Takeda to call emergency services.
The hand is rubbing up and down his spine though, and he’s not throwing up now. “Sorry, kid, I should’a known better. Relax for me. Breathe…”
The words are quiet with the blood rushing in Tobio’s ears, but he almost registers them as comforting as he blacks out.