Somehow, Oikawa couldn’t remember how, they all ended up back in the room with the beds. Iwaizumi had taken him to a bed up against the far wall, away from where the majority of players were gathering, and tried to coax him up to a cot on a higher level, but upon being met with Oikawa’s fervid resistance to climb up that ladder, he settled for one on ground level. They sat there for a long time, Iwaizumi’s arm circled around him protectively while Oikawa leaned his head on the other’s shoulder and stared ahead at nothing in particular.
“...What did we get ourselves into?” he asked eventually, voice hoarse from sobbing since the moment they had stepped back into the room up until just a few minutes ago. He felt Iwaizumi squeeze his shoulder gently.
“Some kinda fucked up mess, that’s for sure,” he replied. When Oikawa heard the hitch in his voice, barely discernible, he slowly lifted his head to look at him. Iwaizumi kept his eyes fixated on a random point in front of him, but that did nothing to hide the redness that surrounded them. Oikawa felt guilt wash over him like an unexpected rainstorm. He reached up with one hand to press his fingers to Iwaizumi’s jaw, urging him to turn his head and look at him. Reluctantly, he complied.
“I’m so sorry,” Oikawa whispered. “All this time, you’ve been trying to comfort me and I—”
“Stop. Don’t,” Iwaizumi bit out, grabbing his hand to remove it from his face.
Oikawa felt more shame prickle at his skin and prepared to be pushed away, but instead Iwaizumi held tight to his hand, palms pressed together. He tentatively lifted his eyes to meet the other’s again. Iwaizumi observed him for a moment before swallowing, and it seemed as though he wanted to look away again, but he held Oikawa’s gaze steadily.
“I don’t do…comfort like you do. The way I’m coping with it is by helping you cope with it,” he said, speaking softly and slowly as if to ensure that the meaning of his words reached Oikawa. “So don’t start kicking the shit out of yourself for not hugging me and coddling me in return. That would just be weird and you know it.”
Oikawa was sure he meant it as a joke, a slight, subtle way of trying to break the tension that lay thick in the air around them, but he couldn’t help but wish it wouldn’t be so weird so that he could have had an excuse to do those things. Gods, why was he even thinking about his stupid lifelong crush right now after what he had just witnessed? Was he sick in the head or something?
With a sigh, Oikawa carefully withdrew his hand from Iwaizumi’s grip and returned to his position with his head propped up by the other’s shoulder.
“That doesn’t make me feel better,” he muttered. “Iwa-chan…why are you here?”
There was a pause, a small one, but noticeable enough that Oikawa knew without a doubt that Iwaizumi was about to try to spin the conversation away from what he was really asking.
“I was trying to be a good friend, but if you want me to leave—”
“No,” Oikawa snapped, his hand coming up behind Iwaizumi’s back to gather a fistful of his shirt in his grip and anchor him there to his spot on the bed. “Why are you here?” he asked again, enunciating each word with deliberate meaning. He felt more than heard Iwaizumi sigh beside him.
“...I dunno why you’re asking,” he said. “You know why.” Oikawa lifted his head to look at him again, searching his face.
“...I know it’s been rough with your mom in the hospital, but I thought you were managing,” he said. “You’re…a personal trainer for the Japan Men’s National V—”
“No, I’m not.”
Oikawa fell silent as he stared at Iwaizumi. What did he mean he wasn’t a personal trainer anymore? Since when? Why hadn’t he told Oikawa about the change in career? Or was it that…there was less of a change and more of a simple loss? What could have happened that stopped Iwaizumi from pursuing his goals in that field? He had so many questions that he just knew Iwaizumi wasn’t going to answer and it was already making him mad.
“What do you mean you’re ‘not’?”
“I mean I’m not a trainer for the Japan Men’s National Volleyball Team anymore.”
“Since when?”
“...A year? Year and a half.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“And just admit to you that I’m a fucking failure who can’t even train athletes correctly? Yeah, right.”
“...What happened?”
“Some…stupid bullshit, that’s what. Look, it doesn’t matter, alright? Point is, I’m broke, Dad’s broke, Ma’s side of the family couldn’t give less of a shit, and now we’re here. Everything else is just fluff, right?” Oikawa furrowed his brows.
“I thought…I thought your aunt and uncle loved you and your mom. I-I don’t—” Iwaizumi cut him off with a harsh scoff.
“Yeah, so did I. Crazy how people change at the drop of a hat, right?”
“Iwa-chan, why—”
Oikawa didn’t have a chance to keep pushing his line of questioning. The doors to the room opened wide then and another group of uniformed guards entered, this time carrying guns. People who were sitting in the center of the room scrambled backward, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the weaponry as possible. Iwaizumi held Oikawa tighter and the brunet responded in kind by grabbing his hand again. They both watched and listened in silence from their dark corner of the room. Oikawa noticed that the ones carrying those guns had triangles painted on their masks, but he kept that to himself.
“Congratulations. You have all passed the first round of the game and you are moving on to the second round,” the square mask announced with far too much manufactured enthusiasm. “I will now announce the results of the first game.”
With another click of a button, the screen above the door started counting down. While Oikawa knew it was simply meant to keep a tally of the players, he couldn’t help but compare it to a scoreboard as the number dropped and dropped until it stopped.
213. Oikawa’s stomach churned.
“Out of 419 players, 206 were eliminated, and 213 players successfully completed the first game.”
Nearly half. Nearly half of the people who had woken up in here alongside him were dead. Murdered. Oikawa closed his eyes, feeling his head start to spin, and the only thing that kept him from getting sick then and there was the feeling of Iwaizumi’s hand carding through his hair.
“Let us out of here!” someone shouted from the crowd. Oikawa reluctantly cracked open his eyes to observe the dissenter, a head of pale grey hair flashing through the corner of his vision. “This is insane! You can’t just kill people like this!”
“You can’t keep us here!” another joined. “This is so illegal it’s not even funny! Who do you people think you are?”
“I’ll pay off my debt, I swear, just let us go!”
“There seems to be a misunderstanding,” the square mask said. “We are not here to hurt any of you. Let me remind you all that we are here to give you a chance.”
“A chance to what? Watch everyone here die so we can walk away with some money? What kind of chance is that?”
“This is inhumane! You think just ‘cause we’re all in debt means you can justify killin’ us off like ants?!”
“This is simply a game,” the guard said.
“This is a game to you?!” Oikawa recognized that voice and his eyes had no trouble finding the bright orange hair that stood up to make his voice heard. “Killing people for losing a kid’s game is your idea of entertainment?!”
“They were simply eliminated for not following the rules of the game,” the guard responded calmly. “If you follow the rules, you can leave this place unharmed with the prize money promised to you.”
“Fuck your money! Let us outta here!”
“Just let us go, keep your money!”
“Consent form clause one,” the guard cited, “a player is not allowed to stop playing.”
Oikawa blinked. Consent form? The stupid waiver they made them all sign before daring to reveal the true nature of this nightmarish hellhole? He was sure his sister would have a few things to say about a contract like that.
“You can’t keep us here!” Hinata shouted back at them. “When people start to notice we’re missing, they’ll come for you, ya know!”
“Y-yeah, it’s only a matter of time before the police show up!”
“You’ll never get away with something like this!”
More please for mercy and shouts of anger rose from the crowd, but a single gunshot from the square mask silenced them all. The triangle masks pointed their automated weapons toward the crowd. Oikawa flinched away and clung more tightly to Iwaizumi, who instinctively pulled him closer in the same motion.
“Consent form clause two,” the square mask continued, “A player who refuses to play…will be eliminated.”
“Consent form clause three.”
Oikawa stilled, and in doing so felt every individual beat of his heart in his chest, heard it in the blood rushing through his ears, felt his breath escape him all at once. That voice…
He lifted his head slowly, almost as if he were afraid of finding the answer. His eyes found the tall figure now standing where everyone else had cowered under the threat of gunfire. Oikawa let out a sound that was somewhere between a sob and a hiccup as he covered his mouth with his hand and felt tears prickle at his eyes. By the way Iwaizumi’s fingers dug painfully into his shoulder, he knew the other had recognized the man, too.
Matsukawa.
“If the majority of players agree to stop playing, the game must end.”
There was a moment of silence after Matsukawa spoke wherein he stared at the guard without fear—at least, none that Oikawa could see from his point of view.
“...That is correct, Player 212.”
Oikawa sincerely wasn’t sure how much more of this his heart could take. Hearing that number, knowing it was so close to the total number of players left, even though he knew the tally didn’t work that way, made his head spin from the mere thought of Matsukawa having died out there during that fatal game of Red Light, Green Light. It was a thought so far removed from his perception of reality that he couldn’t even process it. What would he have done if he saw any of their bodies out there? What would he have done?
How many of those bodies were people he knew and didn’t see?
“So let us vote, then,” Matsukawa continued. “If the majority’s out, then you let us go. That’s how it works, right?”
He sounded so…dull, but Oikawa wasn’t sure what else he expected. Matsukawa had never been the type to express too much emotion and after the events of the day, he wasn’t surprised in the slightest that the man had dissociated himself from emotion completely for the time being merely so he could survive until they all made it out of here alive.
“...As you wish. We will take a vote to decide upon the termination of the game,” the square mask announced. A collective sigh of relief flooded through the entire room, Iwaizumi and Oikawa included. “Before we vote, however, allow me to announce the amount of the prize money, as promised.”
The square mask clicked another button. Above them, the giant piggy bank lit up again and a tube descended down into the opening from above. From that tube began to pour bundles of yen notes, one after the other, collecting at the bottom of the tank and just piling higher and higher. Oikawa’s eyes were drawn to it in spite of himself, his jaw falling slack as he took in the site of all the money being deposited. From what he could already see—and it was still coming—he was sure that amount alone would be enough to steer his family out of the financial ditch they were in completely. When the money finally stopped pouring, the tank looked nearly half full.
“A total of 206 players were eliminated during the first game. Fifteen million yen is at stake per player. Therefore, 3.09 billion yen has been accumulated thus far. If you do not wish to keep playing, this money will be sent to the bereaved families of the eliminated players, fifteen million yen each. However, each of you will return back to your homes empty-handed.”
That’s enough, Oikawa thought. That’s more than enough already.
What was he thinking? That money was the visual representation of human lives that were taken today. How could he even consider using that money to pay off his family’s debt?
“So…if we—if we win all six games, how much is the total prize?” someone asked from the edge of the crowd.
“Since there were 419 players at the beginning of the first round, the total prize money would be six billion, two hundred and eighty-five million yen.”
Oikawa might have just fainted then and there if he were a lesser man.
“Let us commence the voting.”
All the players were corralled onto the right half of the room, a line of tape drawn down the middle of the room to separate them from the left half. At the front of the room, the guards had brought in a button machine with which to cast their votes. Oikawa shifted restlessly where he stood, tugging at the ends of his sleeves. Iwaizumi stood beside him, Atsumu, Sakusa, and Hinata to his other side and just behind.
After a bit more fidgeting, Oikawa jumped when he felt a hand slide into his own, turning his head to look at Iwaizumi to his right, but his friend wasn’t looking back at him. He stared ahead, his gaze hardened as he observed the guards standing in formation in front of the doors. Oikawa pursed his lips and gently squeezed Iwaizumi’s hand, more so to reassure himself than anything else.
“If you would like to continue playing the game, step forward and press the green button with an ‘O’,” the square mask instructed. “If you would like to stop playing, however, then press the red button with an ‘X’ instead. After you have cast your vote, move to the other side of the white line and wait. Votes will be cast in reverse order of the numbers on your jackets. Player 401, please cast your vote.”
Oikawa stiffened, throwing Iwaizumi another, panicked glance. This time Iwaizumi did look at him, giving his hand another squeeze and offering a small smile that did so very little to stop Oikawa’s heart from racing. He wasn’t even sure why he was nervous right now. This was their chance to leave, right? To get out of here and put this entire nightmare behind them? He should have been glad, but right now, all he could do was make his way to the front of the room on shaky legs, his hand slipping out of Iwaizumi’s with reluctance.
When he stood before the pedestal, he stared down at the two coloured buttons and swallowed. Why was he hesitating? So what if all that cash could have spared his family from a lifelong debt that would loom over their heads until the day they all died? Not only that, but it would give them the means to live in comfort for the rest of their lives.
He would be a liar if he said he didn’t want that, if he said he weren’t tempted. But at the cost of all these people’s lives? If each player counted toward the sum of the prize, and if the goal were to accumulate the whole amount, then that could have only meant that there was expected to be only one winner.
No.
He pressed the red button and let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Lowering his head, Oikawa numbly made his way over to the other side of the room, staring down at his feet with his fists clenched at his sides. When he left this place, he would still carry with him the regret that lingered in the back of his mind for passing up this opportunity, and he would undoubtedly have recurring nightmares over what had happened here today, but at least he would walk away knowing that his humanity was still intact. He would walk away knowing that even such an absurd amount of money couldn’t budge his morals. He would walk away with Iwaizumi by his side.
That was all that mattered.
The next player was called forth to vote. The tally of those who voted to end the game climbed with each person who stepped forward. Oikawa felt the tension in his body drip away with each vote, and for a moment he was relieved.
“Player 364, please cast your vote.”
Oikawa watched someone shuffle through the people, but it wasn’t until that person stepped out from the throng of players did he get a good look at their face. His eyes widened.
Bokuto?
The former ace of Fukurodani, now outside hitter for the MSBY Black Jackals, approached the pedestal. His hands were balled into fists as he stared down at the buttons before him. His hesitation made Oikawa’s heart lurch into his throat, despite the fact that he himself had been indecisive when faced with the decision. But why? Why Bokuto, why Sakusa, why Atsumu and Hinata? What were they all doing here?
One tally appeared on the board above the doors for the votes to continue the game. Oikawa stared at it for a long time before his gaze slowly fell to find Bokuto again, only this time, his sharp hazel eyes were staring right back at him as he moved to join the others on the left half of the room. Those eyes were filled with shame and guilt and sorrow as they looked into his own, and before long Bokuto dropped his gaze as if he couldn’t bear to look him in the eye anymore. Oikawa felt his throat close up.
Are you really willing to watch all of these people die for a mere chance to win that money?
It didn’t seem plausible. Not the Bokuto he knew, not the one who had always held such a zest for life and always rushed to support the people around him. Not the Bokuto who cried over lost puppies and cheesy romance movies and exploded with so much enthusiasm every time he won a game that it was contagious. Was this really the same person?
If Oikawa had been any more desperate, would he have made the same decision?
“Player 363, please cast your vote.”
The next player stepped forward and Oikawa had no idea why he was surprised. Of course that lovestruck fool Akaashi Keiji would follow Bokuto into something like this, whatever the reason. What was more surprising, however, was that he also voted to continue then solemnly walked over to join Bokuto on the other side of the room. Oikawa watched them grab for each other’s hands and hold them so tightly their knuckles turned white.
Why?
The votes continued to climb on both sides from that point onward. Oikawa no longer felt that same relief as before, instead replaced by a mounting dread as the votes began to even out.
Why?
“Player 212, please cast your vote.”
Matsukawa was called forward next. As he stood there, his head turned as if he were tempted to look over his shoulder, and in that small gesture, it was as if he were calling out to Oikawa. Of course, Matsukawa must have known he was there already after the debacle from that morning. Why hadn’t he said anything? Why hadn’t he found Oikawa after the game, or before? Oikawa felt a tear slip down his cheek as he watched Matsukawa vote to continue the game and silently come to stand with the others without making the slightest attempt to look at him.
Why?
Player 207—Atsumu—and player 205—Sakusa—were called next right after each other. Both of them voted to continue and their faces offered nothing to betray what could have been going through their minds in that moment. Hinata, player 110, voted the same when his number was called. The people on the right side of the room began to dwindle as more votes were cast. The tallies continued to balance out throughout, but even so, Oikawa couldn’t help but feel as though he were being stabbed in the back with each vote to continue.
“Player 92, please cast your vote.”
That bedhead was unmistakable: Kuroo.
“Stop,” Oikawa whispered to no one but himself, biting down on his lip so hard he could taste blood. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He wanted to wake up at home and realize this was all just a fucked up bad dream. He didn’t want to think about all these people he knew being driven to the point of desperation that they were comfortable sacrificing others’ lives—human lives—for their own gain. It was unthinkable. It was impossible.
Kuroo voted to continue.
From the remaining players who were called upon to vote, Oikawa recognized a handful of others: Semi Eita of Shiratorizawa (80); Alisa Haiba (77), whose name he only remembered because she used to feature in his favourite magazine; Seijo’s very own Mad Dog, Kyotani Kentaro (65); the former coach of Karasuno, Ukai Keishin (51); and last, but certainly not least, and perhaps the most shocking of all, the one and only Ushijima Wakatoshi of Shiratorizawa (42).
To the lattermost’s credit, Ushijima voted to end the game. For the first time in his life, Oikawa held a shred of respect for him, but only just. It didn’t take much to be a decent human being and put the lives of others above one’s own temptation, after all, though Oikawa had learned that even that couldn’t be said for over half the people standing in that room.
Over half. Oikawa looked at the tallies again, feeling the blood drain from his face as he realized that the votes to continue the game had surpassed those to end it by five votes. No no no no no. How? How could all those people consciously make the decision to let this continue? How?
“Player 14, please cast your vote.”
Oikawa’s eyes snapped to the front of the room again to see Iwaizumi approach the pedestal. He stood there for a long time, a long time during which Oikawa held his breath and watched his best friend struggle to make a choice. Money for his sick and dying mother, or letting these people walk free and escape certain death. His vote could have meant the difference in the final tally. There were still five other people left on the other side of the room behind him. If all of them voted to end the game, Iwaizumi included, then they could leave. They had to leave.
Iwaizumi’s hand hovered over the buttons. For a breathless, horrifying moment, Oikawa feared it would drift toward the green button. Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore and would crumble under the mere notion that Iwaizumi could bring himself to carry on like this, though, he watched a series of emotions flash across the man’s face in rapid succession before he curled his lip and all but punched the red button with his fist. Oikawa nearly did collapse then, but this time from relief. Thank the gods. Thank the gods for you, Iwa-chan.
Iwaizumi leveled a deadly glare on each of the guards in turn before finally making his way to the other side of the room. Oikawa pushed through the people in front of him to meet him, finding his embrace without missing a beat. Iwaizumi held him tightly, one hand on the back of his head to shield his face in his shoulder and the other fisting into the back of his shirt. Oikawa felt that he could start crying any minute. Surely this meant that they would all leave. There were still five votes left, but he was sure.
One after the other, the next four people voted to end the game. The entire left half of the room watched in tense silence as the last player stepped forward—Player 1—and stood in front of the pedestal. Oikawa didn’t recognize him, thankfully, but he knew that all of their lives now rested in this one man’s hands. With the tallies completely even, his vote would decide if they could all walk away with their lives, albeit tainted by the death that had brought them here, or if they would be forced to watch as one another perished in the games that would follow. Certainly it was a heavy burden to bear, but Oikawa had hope. He had hope that this man would understand the gravity of his decision, that he would show mercy and compassion as humans were built to do. That he—
The vote was cast. Oikawa’s eyes didn’t leave the spot where the man’s hand now rested on the green button. That…couldn’t be right. He must have been seeing things. The man must have gotten confused. This was a mistake. This couldn’t be—
“The majority has spoken,” the square mask announced in the grave silence that filled the room. “The game will continue.”
There was a scream behind him, a noise filled with equal parts anger and despair, soon followed by an uproar from the players who had voted to end this. Oikawa was not amoung them, too frozen to move, let alone speak, let alone try to express the existential dread that had overcome him. He simply stood there, staring blankly at the pedestal where the man had sealed their fates, as the room exploded into outrage around him. He felt Iwaizumi tighten his arms around him, trying to shield him from the hysteria, but he could barely register any of it anyway.
This isn’t real. This can’t be real.
But it was, as evidenced by the deafening gunshot that silenced the crowd for the second time that day. The guards all pointed their guns at them again, but Oikawa couldn’t bring himself to be afraid of that threat. He was more afraid of the people around him, the ones standing idly by after abandoning any small ounce of respect for human life they might have had in favour of dooming them all.
There were 419 players when they all woke up in this room. When all was said and done, 418 people would have lost their lives to feed into the lone survivor’s reward. Amoung them would be Matsukawa, Kyotani, Sakusa, Hinata, Atsumu, Kuroo, Bokuto, Akaashi, Alisa, Ukai, Semi, Ushijima.
Iwaizumi.
Himself.
They were all going to die here. And if any of them were left standing in the end, how long would they be able to carry on before the guilt and grief killed them, too?
The pedestal was removed from the room and the tape lifted from the floor. The guards left them to their own devices for the remainder of that day. Iwaizumi had managed to guide Oikawa over to a bed and make him sit down. He moved as if his body were on autopilot, his mind not in control of his own limbs, barely present as it stood. He hadn’t said a word since the voting ended. People milled about around them, talking amoungst themselves, others in a similar state to his own, completely unable to process what had just happened. That freedom that had been so close that Oikawa could taste it had been stripped away from them all by just one man.
Oikawa lifted his eyes, seeing Iwaizumi look up in his peripheral vision as if expecting him to finally come to, but his gaze only searched around to find the face of the man who had voted last. He stood in another corner of the room, smirking and chatting with a small group of others who had likely voted to continue the game as well.
Oikawa stood up, ignoring Iwaizumi’s questioning tone beside him, and briskly walked across the room. In a matter of seconds, he came before the man, who straightened up and looked at him as he approached, and from this close Oikawa could now recognize him as the belligerent prick from before who had tried to start a fight with Hinata. Well, if he wanted a fight, he sure as hell had one now.
“You motherfucker!”
Oikawa punched him square in the nose so hard that his head snapped back against the wall he was leaning against. The man groaned and brought up a hand to hover in front of his face, blood already dripping past his lips.
“You stupid son of a bitch! We could have left! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!”
The man’s newfound lackeys seemed all too hesitant to make a move in the defense of this monster who cared so little about the lives around him. Oikawa heard shouting from behind, his name, but that didn’t stop him from reaching out to gather the man’s shirt in his fists and slam him back against the wall again.
“You—you little bitch,” the man spat, narrowing his eyes at him. “Get your hands off me before I eliminate you right here and now.”
“I’d like to see you try, you fucking scum—”
He didn’t get a chance to bite out the rest of his insult before a set of knuckles slammed into his jaw, sending him stumbling backward as his vision flashed for a split second. The next thing he knew, he was being held up by a solid presence behind him, but he was still too busy regaining his bearings to find out who it was.
“Touch him again and I’ll slit your throat in your sleep,” a deep, gravelly voice said from above. Even though the threat wasn’t directed toward him, Oikawa felt an ice cold chill run down his spine from the venom laced in every word. Slowly, he tilted his head to look up at the face of the one who had caught him, blinking at the sight of stubble and dark, curly hair. Matsukawa.
“Keep your little whore in line, then, or maybe I’ll just take a page outta your book and put him outta his misery tonight,” the man shot back, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. Oikawa’s eyes landed on him again, gathering his weight back on his own feet as he stood from Matsukawa’s steadying grasp. His jaw ached something fierce from the force of the blow he had taken, but he gathered the taste of blood on his tongue and turned his head to spit it out onto the floor without breaking eye contact.
“You’re going to regret this,” he said.
The man simply scoffed and started up a haughty guffaw that his lackeys were quick to join in despite their inaction to aid him mere moments ago. Oikawa felt his lip twitch, his fists clenching at his sides once more, but a hand on his shoulder was quick to make him turn around and start pushing him into the opposite direction. Oikawa only abided by this for a few steps before he shook off Matsukawa’s hand and whirled around to face him with a fiery glare.
“Don’t touch me,” he hissed. For the time being, he forced himself to ignore the hurt that flashed through his former teammate’s eyes. “Who the hell do you think you are?! Do you think you’re any better than him?” He gestured widely to the man—Player 1—behind Matsukawa. “Do you?!”
“Oikawa—”
“Stop! Don’t fucking— Nothing you say is going to change the fact that you voted to let this happen!” He was on the verge of tears now, but he refused to let them fall. Not now. Not in front of someone he thought he could respect, but had given him every reason not to. “You— You’re—!”
“Tooru.”
He paused, chest heaving as he stared at Matsukawa, but this time the voice had come from behind. He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. When he felt the hand on his shoulder this time, he didn’t shake it off.
“Don’t,” Iwaizumi whispered to him over his shoulder. “Turn around and look at me.”
Oikawa didn’t follow the order right away, glare still pinned on the stranger standing in front of him who still couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes. Matsukawa looked so damn pathetic in that moment. He knew exactly what he was doing when he pressed that button. He knew what was at stake. He knew whose lives he was throwing away by voting to continue.
And yet…
“Look at me.”
Oikawa turned, slowly, until he found Iwaizumi’s eyes again. He was surprised to find others standing behind him—Bokuto, Akaashi, Kuroo, Hinata, Kyotani—and a quick glance around the crowd of people that had gathered to observe his violent exchange revealed the others standing at the forefront of the onlookers, all watching him, some with concern, others with pity, and others still with resignation. Oikawa found that he couldn’t meet any of their eyes, either, so instead he looked at Iwaizumi.
“Everyone who’s here right now came here for a reason. You came here for a reason,” he said. “Everyone here is at the lowest point in their lives. Otherwise we would have thrown away that stupid card they gave to us. People like you might be able to put that aside and think about the bigger picture, but not everyone can do that. Not everyone has something to go back to if they get out of here.”
He knew that. Oikawa understood everything Iwaizumi was saying, but even so…
“We took a vote. The majority voted to continue. Those are the rules.”
“Screw the rules. We can’t just—”
“Wake up, Oikawa!” He jumped as Iwaizumi raised his voice, grabbing both of his shoulders to shake him. “This isn’t a movie, okay? There’s not gonna be some convenient plot hole that gets us out of this. We’re here now…and we’re not getting out of here until someone wins this. Do you get that?”
Oikawa didn’t miss the way Iwaizumi’s voice shook ever so slightly when he said this last. It wasn’t like he didn’t already know that Iwaizumi and everyone else must have been just as shaken up by this turn of events as he was. Well, except for those who didn’t vote to put an end to it all. Still, Iwaizumi was right. There was no point in wasting his energy on being angry and afraid when there was no changing their fates.
They were going to die. The possibility that Oikawa or Iwaizumi could end up winning this didn’t even cross his mind because it wasn’t a possibility. Even if they made it to the very end, even if it came down to just the two of them, they would be at a stalemate. There would be no winner between them. Oikawa knew on a biological level that both of them would sooner die than kill the other, by their own hands or otherwise. There was no glory to be had at the end of this story.
They were going to die.
All at once, all of that anger and horror and fear and despair consumed him like a tsunami. His knees buckled beneath him and those tears he had so valiantly kept at bay spilled from his eyes uninhibited. A noise ripped through his throat, a noise that he couldn’t ever remember making before, and he clung to Iwaizumi as if he could do a single thing to take away that unbearable anguish that had taken root in his chest and threatened to choke the life out of him. Oikawa had no idea how he was supposed to make it through this when he could barely endure what he felt in that moment.
Somehow, he ended up in a bed. Iwaizumi lay beside him, his chest a pillow for Oikawa’s head and his shirt stained with the tears he hadn’t stopped shedding until he fell unconscious. Iwaizumi had cried with him. It was the first time Oikawa had seen him cry since high school. It wasn’t that Iwaizumi was emotionally stunted or closed-off, but he always had a habit of keeping everything locked up inside himself until he couldn’t hold it anymore. He didn’t want to appear weak when he needed to be strong for others, he had admitted to Oikawa once. Oikawa, of course, had told him that that was stupid and pointless. As always, his two cents had fallen on deaf ears.
Oikawa was glad that that was no longer the case, though. If anything, he felt reassured by the expression of Iwaizumi’s pain that matched his own. It was a morbid sort of kinship, finding solace in sharing one’s pain with another. One might even argue that it was human nature. Oikawa, for his part, couldn’t decide if he were glad Iwaizumi was here or not. On one hand, he knew he wouldn’t be able to survive here without him. On the other, he was already mourning the moment he might have to watch his best friend die.
Or, worse than that, the moment Iwaizumi would have to watch him die.
“Stop thinking about it,” Iwaizumi muttered, his voice deep and raspy from where Oikawa had his ear pressed against his chest. He wasn’t surprised that they were both awake again. “It won’t do you any good.”
“I know that,” Oikawa mumbled back, picking at a loose thread on the hem of Iwaizumi’s jacket. “I can’t just turn off my brain.”
“You did for a couple hours,” Iwaizumi pointed out. “Cried yourself stupid until you fell asleep. Just do that again.”
“A couple hours?” Oikawa tilted his head up a little to try to look at the other. “How do you know? Haven’t you slept?”
“You kiddin’ me? Hell no,” Iwaizumi scoffed. “Not after that threat that piece of shit made against you. It’s bad enough these games are gonna kill us. I’m not gonna let some lowlife cockroach do you in before you’ve even had a chance to get through this.”
“What makes you think there’s any getting through this?” Oikawa asked, huffing out a dry laugh that lacked any ounce of humour. “We’re just waiting to be executed at this point.”
“Shut up. Stop talking. Go back to sleep.”
“Only if you do, too.”
“No.”
“You need to rest for the game tom—”
“How am I supposed to sleep knowing someone could walk over here and snuff the life out of you when both of us are—”
“If I can be of assistance,” a voice interrupted, quiet, but still startling in the overall silence in the dark room while other players tried to sleep. Iwaizumi and Oikawa both sat up in unison to find the source of it, propped up on their arms as they squinted at the dark figure that had come to stand at the edge of their bed. That figure leaned down then, close enough for Oikawa to make out his features. It was hard to misplace that lazy grin.
“Kuroo?” Oikawa blinked, shifting to sit up properly and scoot farther up on the bed as Kuroo moved to sit down near the end. “You… I saw you, earlier. When you voted, you—”
“I know what you must think of me,” Kuroo interrupted, lifting a hand to put a stop to Oikawa’s accusation before it could leave his mouth. “And I’m not gonna sit here and try to justify myself ‘cause you’d be right. But Iwaizumi wasn’t just spouting bullshit earlier. We all have our reasons, yeah?”
Oikawa pursed his lips, expression guarded. Iwaizumi yawned beside him, his quiet gasp of air too audible in the silence despite the way he turned his head and tried to hide it in his arm.
“What do you want, Kuroo?” he asked.
“Well, I couldn’t help but overhear you two lovebirds bickering over here and—”
“We’re not—”
“That isn’t—”
Oikawa and Iwaizumi both tried to dismiss the moniker at the same time, which really didn’t help their situation one bit. Oikawa, at least, was thankful for the darkness in the room that hid the way his cheeks began to warm. He refused to look at the man sitting beside him on the bed.
“...You were saying?”
“As I was saying,” Kuroo continued, his cheeky grin clear in his voice now, “I understand you guys are in need of a little shut-eye. I could keep watch for you.”
“And why should we trust you?” Oikawa asked, surprising himself with the bitterness in his own voice. Kuroo didn’t seem fazed by it in the slightest.
“No reason, really. Unless you count years of friendship that I have no intention of abandoning over a game. Even a game of life and death,” he said, his voice rid of any sarcasm now. “I’m not proud of my decision, Oikawa, but that doesn’t change who I am. I know you won’t ever see me the same way again, and I can’t blame you for that one bit, but fact is: I’m still gonna care about you whether you like it or not. Both of you.” He leveled his gaze on Iwaizumi then. “I’m part of the reason we’re all still here, so the least I can do is make sure you two get some sleep. Undisturbed.”
Oikawa hated how sincere he sounded. He hated knowing that every word out of Kuroo’s mouth was the truth. Kuroo wasn’t the type of person to turn his back on the people close to him, even if he had made such a batshit insane choice to keep playing this sick game.
“Find someone else,” Iwaizumi said after a moment. Oikawa’s brows twitched together and he turned to look at him, but his eyes were trained on Kuroo. “Find someone else to keep watch with you, and maybe then we’ll consider sleeping.”
“Fair enough,” Kuroo said without complaint, moving to stand back up to fulfill the request.
“No need. I’m happy to volunteer.”
All three of them looked over to see a second figure step between the beds on the other side of them, ducking into view. As soon as Oikawa saw Matsukawa’s face, he scoffed, turning away to stare at some uninteresting spot on the floor as he shook his head to himself and crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn’t even sure why he was still mad at Matsukawa after the reality check Iwaizumi had given him and all the points Kuroo had made just now.
No, that was a lie. He knew why.
“Oikawa…”
“Forget it. Go keep watch over yourself, why don’t you?” the brunet spat. He heard Iwaizumi sigh beside him and Kuroo whistled quietly as he turned his head away as if to give them privacy.
“You don’t trust me?” Matsukawa asked as if he didn’t already know the answer.
“What kind of question is that?” Oikawa snapped, finally turning to look at him with that steely glare of his. “How dare you walk over here and act like nothing’s wrong when—”
A third figure cleared his throat from behind Matsukawa. Slowly, the latter turned his head to glance over his shoulder, and the third figure stepped around him into sight. Oikawa had no trouble recognizing the sharp perma-scowl of his other old teammate.
“Kyotani?” Iwaizumi questioned, furrowing his brows. For a moment, the blond said nothing, staring directly at Oikawa in silence. Oikawa, for his part, kind of wanted to crawl under the blanket and disappear under that stare. Kyotani had become far more intense over the years than he used to be. In the past, Oikawa could have easily looked down on him and picked apart his flaws and gotten fussy when Kyotani didn’t listen to him. Now, however, he got the feeling from that look in the other’s eyes that he had long since outgrown the petulant brutishness he once displayed, replaced by a potent aura that surrounded him from having learned harsh truths and how to face them. It was a little frightening, all things considered.
“I’ll watch,” he said after several beats of silence had passed, taking a seat on the cot across from theirs. More silence followed as the rest of them looked between each other, but most notably at Matsukawa, who suddenly seemed to realize he was now the odd man out. He glanced between Kyotani and Kuroo, then at Iwaizumi, then finally he met Oikawa’s eyes again. His gaze lingered there for a moment, as if waiting for something, but when that something never came, he lowered his head again and cleared his throat softly.
“...Right. Then I guess…I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
With that mumbled farewell, Matsukawa turned around and wandered off into the shadows of the room. Oikawa worried, however briefly, about him spending the night alone in this room full of people far too desperate to be trusted, but he quickly shook off that feeling. Matsukawa could take care of himself, even if it meant he had to stay up all night to make sure of it. Or maybe one of the others would find him, or vice versa, and they would watch each other’s backs throughout the night. Either way, Oikawa was sure they would see each other again in the morning, just as he said.
“...Well, alright then,” Iwaizumi said then, stretching his arms with another yawn before he settled back onto the bed. “You two keep watch for a couple hours until you get tired, then wake us up and we’ll take over. Deal?”
“Deal,” Kuroo said without missing a beat, hopping up from their bed only to slide over to the other opposite Kyotani’s. He scooted back to the head of the bed and lifted his arms behind his head as he got comfortable. “Don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours over there, Grand King. We’ll make sure no wicked villains come to take your head in the night. Ain’t that right, Mad Dog?”
Kyotani only grunted in response, finding a similar position to Kuroo on his bed, though his back was straighter and he kept his arms crossed over his chest. Oikawa took one last look at the two of them before reluctantly lying back down, head falling back into place on Iwaizumi’s chest before he could think better of it. He shifted as if to move once he caught himself, but a strong arm around his shoulders held him in place. He hoped Iwaizumi couldn’t feel the heat in his face through his shirt like this.
“Sleep,” he commanded softly.
Oikawa closed his eyes and slept.