Chapter Text
What does it mean to be defeated?
For Hinata Shouyou, it meant staring at his mother in disbelief as she said to him:
“Shouyou, I don’t know if I want you to join the guard.”
Utter, crushing defeat. Shouyou stared back at his mother in all of his small fury, his hope of nine and a half years fizzling out as her voice reached his eardrums.
“But! But I want to learn how to fight!” His hands balled into fists, and he stamped his foot against the stone floor of their spacious room.
Hinata Yua stared lovingly, frustratedly, at her son before her. She wanted to give him this, she did. But she couldn’t help but think about how-
“Dad was in the guard too!” Shouyou yelled, small fists curled determinedly by his side.
She folded her hands into her apron, sitting on the floor and motioning for her son to crawl into her lap. He huffed, but his anger failed to conceal the way he burrowed deeper into her arms, soaking up her warmth.
“I know how badly you want to be a fighter, Shouyou-”
“Not just any fighter!” he piped up. “I want to be the best! I want to be a legend!”
Yua stared down into his eyes, flickering with the glow of lanterns and all the hope his small body could contain, and she didn't know how to tell him no.
“Shouyou…”
“I’ll be the best! I’ll prove myself to King Kazuyo, and I’ll make you proud!”
Yua clutched her son to her, her hand buried deep in his unruly orange hair. “Shouyou, I already am proud of you. You don’t need to be a soldier for me to be proud of you. I will love you always,” she tried her best to keep the tremor out of her voice.
“Please let me learn! I’ll still do all the chores and I’ll come to visit Natsu still and-”
“Shouyou-”
“Please, Mom.”
And so, when Hinata Shouyou turned ten years old, he joined the King’s group of military recruits.
~ ~ ~
“Sloppy,” the word was barked near his ear, a rough hand correcting his form before moving on to the next child.
Shouyou’s arm shook, the weight of the wooden sword threatening to drag it down as he held a poised position. Everything hurt, just like everything hurt yesterday, the day before that, and the day before that. It had only been a week, and Shouyou was already more tired than he’d ever been in his whole life.
He slept in barracks with the other twenty boys, rose with the sun, trained relentlessly day in and day out, got berated day in and day out for his small stature and skinny limbs, scrubbed the courtyard in the fading daylight, and some nights he fell asleep before he even finished his dinner.
It would be worth it, he kept telling himself. There were few things as difficult as becoming one of King Kazuyo’s loyal soldiers for Karasuno. But he was going to do it! He had to! He lived in a large shadow, the shadow of a father killed serving his loyal duties.
And he wanted to cast a larger shadow.
He wanted his name to be known throughout the sprawling cities of Karasuno until he was as old and grey as the maid who lived down the hall from his mother and sister. He wanted to press his mark into the kingdom’s history, a battle cry of “I was here! And I mattered!”
But right now, as the flat of a blunt sword whacked across the back of his thigh to get him to straighten up, he half-heartedly wondered if there might not be some other way to leave a lasting mark on Karasuno.
Maybe he could be known for making legendary meat buns.
Captain Ukai was looking around with a look of disdain and exasperation painted across his face.
“Your opponent is never going to give you the chance to rest your arms. Switch!”
There was a flurry of movement as the children lightly tossed their swords across their bodies and caught them in their opposite hands, feet shuffling accordingly until they mirrored their earlier position. Shouyou fumbled his sword but by the grace of some merciful god, he managed not to drop it.
“You may be faced with a situation in which you cannot use your hand of preference! Do not expect anything to be a given in battle.”
The captain paced through the rows of boys, dark hair brushing the sides of his face as he appraised them with raptor-like eyes.
The point of his sword came to rest beneath Shouyou’s chin, and he gulped.
“Eyes up, runt. If you’re just watching your own weapon, you’re as good as dead.”
The cold pressure left his arm shaking even worse than before as his fearsome instructor prowled on, snapping corrections as he dubiously studied the boys in front of him.
“Weapons down, guards up.”
Shouyou wanted to wail in relief as he finally set the wooden sword down by his feet and sunk into a fighting stance, his arms in front of his head. He remembered the first day he had gotten there, thinking that the sword hadn’t been that heavy. How wrong he was now, his muscles aching after holding it steady for so long.
“Punching drills! Carrot-top, bend your knees!”
Shouyou squeaked and readjusted, trying to ignore the quiet snickering that came from behind him.
“Doubles! Twenty sets to start, switch feet after each set! Go!”
The courtyard filled with quiet, controlled breathing, and the scrape of shoes dragging over stone.
One, two! Shift.
One, two! Shift.
On and on, Shouyou’s small hands felt weak as he tried to make himself feel like these hits would ever inflict any sort of damage.
The training was always like this, he mused, his hands striking empty air and his feet pivoting beneath him. His toes caught on his ankle and he stumbled, hastily curling in on himself to continue on with a burning face.
Ukai had only taught them three basic guards and the rest of the time was spent getting used to the weight of the sword. Shouyou’s respect for his captain burned deep, watching the way he effortlessly held his arguably much heavier sword with barely a tremble in his arms.
After they got used to the heavy weapon, they would practice their hand-to-hand combat. They weren’t allowed to actually fight until they could move properly, could control their limbs, and their weight correctly. They would strike pillars wrapped in rope until there were burns across their shins, knuckles, and forearms.
Then they would go running. This was Shouyou’s favorite part because they would race through the orchard that grew on the castle grounds, and everything smelled like fruit. Besides, his wiry body was accustomed to running, and it was one of the few physical tasks that he didn’t fall behind in.
This would be his routine for the next two years, as Ukai continued to pace the rows and bark out new drills for them to flow into. At twelve, the boys began drifting towards more specialized areas for more intensive training. But for now, Shouyou was wheezing as his hands struck the wooden pillar, wincing at the raw skin, that still felt as soft as the day he’d gotten here. Not like Nishinoya’s skin, which was tough and strong beneath Shouyou’s curious fingers.
Shouyou had met Nishinoya Yuu in the barracks, another small boy like him only one year older, and had liked him immediately. They got on well together, but Yuu was what felt like eons ahead of him. Sometimes he tried to help Shouyou with his sword guards, and he’d taught him a couple of new positions to help improve his strength and balance, but there was nothing he could do to give Shouyou the experience.
Shouyou sometimes thought he would have gone crazy if he hadn’t met Yuu because none of the other boys in his group were talkative. Everyone was stoic and quiet, knowing exactly when to keep their mouths shut. The exception was the freckled Yamaguchi Tadashi, who had a very sweet giggle that often went along with his nasty companion’s snark. But Tadashi was rarely without the tall blonde who constantly made fun of Shouyou, so Shouyou avoided both of them as a default.
When he went to bed that night, he repeated his mantra to himself. That this was all worth it, just steps on the path to becoming legendary. He giggled himself to sleep, imagining the crowds chanting his name.
~ ~ ~
What does it mean to be defeated?
For Kageyama Tobio, it meant glaring at his grandfather as he said to Tobio:
“That’s enough for now, I want to go look in on the boys’ training.”
Tobio clutched the bow tighter in his small hand, looking grumpily between his grandfather and the target bulging with arrows from the both of them.
“But, Grandfather-”
“Tobio,” Kazuyo said as he gently laid his hand over Tobio’s head. “We will come back tomorrow, as we always do. You act as if every time we leave, we will never do this again.”
Tobio grumbled under his breath, turning big blue eyes up at Kazuyo, “I’m good at it, and I like the way the arrows always go where I want them to.”
“And the arrows will still fly tomorrow, will they not?”
Tobio didn’t respond, turning his pout to his feet and earning a chuckle from Kazuyo.
“Come along, Tobio, and let us go see. Daichi is waiting for us already.”
Tobio’s dejected expression lifted just a bit at the mention of his kind guard, who always offered archery tips to him and snuck him extra milk out of the kitchens. Daichi felt like the big brotherly figure that Tobio had lacked, keeping him out of trouble and humble in his thoughtless wake.
The young guard was waiting for them outside of the range, his leather breastplate freshly waxed and shiny. Tobio waved shyly and Daichi waved back, a small smile on his face.
“Your majesty,” he bowed before Kazuyo.
“Daichi, must I always tell you that you needn’t do that?” Kazuyo chuckled.
“Force of habit, your majesty,” Daichi murmured, straightening.
“I wouldn’t have taught him any other way,” another voice griped good-naturedly from down the hall as Kazuyo’s own personal guard made his way to them.
Ukai Ikkei walked with strong steps, despite his consistent complaining about a gimpy hip. Tobio watched him from the shelter of his grandfather’s legs, blinking up at him when offered a smile and a wave.
“Shall we go watch the new blood, Kazuyo?”
Daichi’s eye twitched slightly at the casual way Ikkei addressed the king, and Tobio giggled into his hand. His grandfather wasn’t really big on people addressing him by anything but his name, but Daichi had never broken the habit. Tobio remembers shyly asking Kazuyo to tell Daichi that he could call Tobio by his first name too- it made him supremely uncomfortable to be addressed as a prince. Daichi had been kind and understanding and now only slipped up occasionally.
They trailed through the castle, the bowstring digging into Tobio’s chest and the wooden curve pressing against his shoulder blades.
“The new recruits seem to be promising this year…”
Tobio tuned out their conversation, watching the sky through the windows as they passed by. Two crows played in the clouds, whizzing in dark streaks through the endless blue. He was so busy watching that he bumped into Daichi, who just ruffled his hair a bit and brushed off his mumbled apology.
Tobio could hear the sounds of boys yelling ahead from the courtyard. He didn’t particularly care to observe them. It was boring, and their swords were so clunky and awkward. It always made Tobio roll his shoulders beneath the pressure of his bow.
Today was no different, it seemed.
The four of them peered down, unseen, into the courtyard below. The boys were paired off, swords in hand, practicing parries and attempting to knock their partner to the ground.
There was one boy who looked smaller than all the rest, fiery orange hair a stark contrast against the grey stone he was sprawled across. His opponent looked bored. This was clearly not the first time this had been the outcome of their sparring.
Tobio watched curiously, how the weak boy would lunge clumsily and parry as though the sword was physically dragging him down. Based on his stature alone, Tobio assumed it actually was. He huffed out a breath of air as the boy was once again knocked down and disarmed.
This boy was weak, and clearly too stubborn for his own good as Tobio watched him stagger dazedly to his feet and set himself back into middle guard.
No matter, Commander Ukai’s grandson always managed to make the weaker ones crack. The instructor was watching the pair himself from the sidelines, shaking his head and moving to bark orders at the smaller boy. Tobio watched him bravely nod along, his shaking arms raising the sword again.
Cool air blew through the window in his room. He’d left it cracked- he always did- and the air smelled like rain. Tobio tossed and turned in his bed, looking longingly at his arrows tucked away in the corner of the room. If he could just-
But no, because Kazuyo had learned all too quickly what happened when Tobio’s bow was left with him, and kept it safely tucked away with his own.
Maybe if he just went for a walk...
Tobio slid out of bed, padding across the floor and listening to the door. Daichi was off duty tonight, so it might be possible to sneak out. He rarely had luck sneaking past his chaperone, who knew what sounds to listen for inside the room. But this was a newer guard and therefore Tobio’s job would be much easier.
His room had been designed with a safety escape as all the royal bedrooms had, and Tobio had discovered it by accident while trying to tug a tapestry off the wall for a cape. The tunnel ran through the innards of the castle and opened near the courtyard.
Tobio breathed in the night air. Some nights he was just too restless to lay still until he’d been for a walk. He rounded the corner to the courtyard, stopping just in the shadows.
It seemed that tonight he was not alone in his desire to escape his stifling room.
The small boy from before stood in the courtyard, wooden sword in hand, poised on one shaky leg.