#this one is a bit sloppier but at least it was fun hehe xd

[runtedfiction]

tomorrow

day 3: flight @zelinkweek2021

ao3

AN: i fucking love haikyuu!! also this week has been lots of fun :)

* * *

Revali finds someone who flies nearly as high as he does on the court. The world implodes.

* * *

When Impa asks Zelda to be on an intramural volleyball team, she doesn’t think about it too much. They’re studying in the library, and she nods absentmindedly while organizing her cybersecurity notes.

“You’ll just be an alternate,” Impa says, over-explaining even though she knows that Zelda would agree to hide a body with her. “We have six people already, so occasionally you might have to sub in, but I don’t think that would happen. You can also borrow my gear.”

“Well, you remember how bad I was in high school,” Zelda says with a shrug. “And it’s been two years since then, so.”

“Don’t worry!” Impa waves her hand. “Most of them are Mipha’s friends, so they’re chill. We’re all very casual.”

Zelda nods again, and begins reading about different kinds of web attacks.

(If this were a sitcom, this would be the part where the narrator tells the audience, “They were not chill. Or casual.”)

* * *

She shows up ten minutes late to their first game. It’s not her fault--the exam ran over, and she had to get changed before coming--but it’s a bad look nonetheless. Everyone’s looking at her, already lined up on the court, and she smiles apologetically while dying inside.

“Midterm started late, sorry!”

“No worries,” Impa says. “We’re just getting started!”

The whistle blows, and a boy with black--no navy--hair does a jump serve that slams into the opposing team’s court. Zelda doesn’t know if she’s seen anyone jump this high.

“Way to go, Revali,” the burliest person she’s ever seen says. He pulls Revali in for what looks to be a bone-crushing hug.

The other team doesn’t score a point until Revali misses his fourth monster serve; the ball goes just outside the lines. But even when the other team finally gets the ball, it’s easy for the burly boy to receive, Mipha to set, and her roommate (Urbosa?) to spike.

Zelda realizes very quickly, much to her horror, that everyone on this team is good. She can’t even do an overhand serve--what was Impa thinking, what was she thinking--but she doesn’t have time to continue to despair because someone else is serving now.

He has a powerful overhand; again, the ball goes straight into the court. But for his second serve, he takes a few steps back, and flies for his jump serve. He’s shorter than the first boy, but he’s jumping almost as tall as him. Zelda’s mouth opens slightly.

“Nice one Link!” Urbosa says. Revali snorts.

Their team--the Champions--wins the game in what must be under half an hour. Zelda thinks about how she hasn’t done an underhand serve in two years and wants to scream.

* * *

After the third game (another ridiculously easy win), the burly boy--Daruk, she’s learned--suggests that they all go out for frozen yogurt. It’s 11pm and the brunt of exams have passed, so everyone is free.

“Perfect!” His voice booms throughout the gym and matches his giant smile. He claps a hand on Link’s shoulder. The force of it undoes his loose ponytail. “Let’s celebrate the little guy for his final block!”

They go to Selmie’s Spot and eat on the sidewalk. It’s a chilly night, but the chocolate is so delicious that she can’t complain.

“Link,” Revali asks, “where did you learn to play like that?”

“I started in middle school,” he says. Zelda wonders if she’s taller than him--they’re definitely the same height at least. “And then I played through all of high school.”

“Nice,” Revali says in a way that makes it clear he does not, in fact, find that nice.

“Your vertical is quite impressive,” Mipha says. Revali’s eyes look like they could shoot out murderous laser beams.

When everyone’s finished with their ice cream, they figure out logistics for walking back home. Impa, Mipha, and Urbosa head north; Daruk and Revali accompany them.

Zelda finds herself alone with Link, who doesn’t have much to say.

“You’re quite good,” she says.

“Thanks.”

“Did you ever consider playing for real in college?”

“Nah.”

Zelda shuts up quickly, and they reach her gate soon enough.

“Thanks for walking me here,” she says.

“No problem.”

Euch, she thinks as she walks him away. The night swallows his bright blue hoodie. Standoffish.

* * *

For the next two games, Zelda sits on the sidelines and alternates between clapping and getting work done on her laptop. Everything goes swimmingly. Link and Revali rack up points from serves and general talent, Daruk receives steadily, and Mipha and Impa set to Urbosa for spikes.

Then Zelda gets called into the next game. When Revali mentioned that he needed to leave for someone’s birthday party, she agreed to sub in, assuming that the game might end before them anyway.

The game, however, is not ending early; the Guardians might hand the Champions their first loss.

They’re one point behind when Zelda steps in, and then they’re five points behind. The best server on the opposing team aims the balls straight for her, and even though she can get the ball up most of the time, it’s punishing. It slams into her forearms, sometimes spiralling off (Link manages to dive and save it once), and rarely making it to Mipha.

Finally the serve goes out of bounds, and it’s a relief. But then it’s her turn to serve, and oh God, it’s match point.

“It’s ok, you got this!”

Impa’s too kind. Zelda takes one swing at the ball--underhand, how humiliating--and loses the game.

* * *

On the walk back, she’s the quiet one this time.

She doesn’t understand why she’s so upset; intramural volleyball doesn’t matter. Her grades are excellent, she probably has a second date with that cute classmate, and she definitely has a second interview with the university research lab.

Link speaks, unprompted, for the first time in her presence.

“You don’t need to look so worried,” he says.

“I don’t look worried,” she counters. Are her brows furrowed? They are. She makes a conscious effort to smooth them out.

He smiles. “Whatever you say.”

She spends the rest of the walk wondering if she looks worried. Then she remembers how she lost the game for everyone tonight, and that awful feeling pools in her stomach again.

“Hey,” she says when they reach her gate. “What did I do wrong tonight?”

He looks surprised. “Oh, hm--”

“Too much to count?” She tries to say it as a joke, but it comes out a bit desperate. Fuck.

“My roommate books practice courts sometimes, and always asks if I want to come,” he says instead of answering. “Maybe we can practice this week and I’ll show you some stuff?”

She nods. Her brows are furrowed again.

"Don't worry," he says. "It'll be chill."

“I’m not--I’m not worried,” she says.

“Ok,” he says, and she thinks he’s laughing as he walks away.

She scowls. Annoying.

* * *

At the practice court, he teaches her how to serve. Thankfully only Impa and Link’s friends get to dodge her serves that first go into the net, then way too deep, before finally she starts hitting the court.

“Nice,” he says after what must be two hours. She’s exhausted. “Remember you want to hold the ball steady in your left hand before you pound it with your right.”

“Uh. Ok.”

When they’re all walking out of the gym at the end of the practice, Link turns to her. “Sidon booked the court for Sunday night too, if you want to come then.”

“That would be great, thanks."

“He’s cute, right,” Impa says when Link leaves.

Zelda raises her eyebrows. “What?”

Impa just laughs.

On Sunday, he teaches her how to receive.

“Bend your knees more,” he says. “Instead of swinging your arms upward.”

They fall into a rhythm where he does a light spike and she gets the ball back to him. Her forearms are red when they break for water.

“Nice. You learn quickly,” he says. The compliment, said so matter of factly, makes her a bit embarrassed. “Before the qualifying game on Tuesday I got the sand courts up by the track if you want to practice a few hours before. I want to do my serve and Daruk said he might need to come late to the game, so.”

“Yeah, I'll come!” she says. She wonders if she hears a “please don’t mess this up” hidden between the lines, but she has a feeling he’s too nice to think that. He’s patient and an understanding teacher and--frick.

She examines his face more closely.

Impa wasn’t lying. He is cute.

Frick.

* * *

Zelda subs in for Daruk, and surprisingly it isn’t a disaster. She gets all her serves over the net, and only messes up two digs. Revali and Link's jumpserves are also particularly nasty this time around, and they win easily.

They make it to the elimination round, and then semifinals. Frozen yogurt at Selmi's becomes a regular tradition after each game.

Before they reach the finals, she asks Link to practice with her once more. It’s very likely that the Guardians will beat the Zorans, and they’ll have to face them again. Impa has a conflicting exam this time around, but can sub in once it ends.

“Sure, I’ll book the sand courts again,” he says. When they reach her gate, he smiles. Cute. “Night.”

Her mouth still tastes like chocolate when she smiles back. “Goodnight.”

She meets him at the court on a sunny day. They have a small rally, just the two of them serving, bumping, setting, and spiking to each other. Even though it’s late autumn, it feels like summer. They take a water break in the shade of the tree.

His water bottle is empty, she notices.

“Here,” she says, holding out hers. “Have some.”

“Ah, that’s ok--”

“Have some.”

“Ok.” He pauses before taking a small sip and handing it back to her. Huh, his eyes are really blue. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

On their way back, they reach the intersection that they normally split at when they’re walking during the day.

“Hey,” he says. “You want to get lunch?”

Her heart is pounding. “Sure.”

* * *

When they face the Guardians again in the finals, she’s the most confident she’s been in her skills. The monster server is back and targeting her, but she only misses once, and even then Daruk is there to cover for her and get the ball to Mipha.

Mipha sets it to Zelda this time, which catches everyone by surprise. Urobsa’s been hitting the entire time, barely getting past the blockers.

Zelda sets up for a spike that ends up rolling off her fingers and functioning more like a tip, but no one is covering her, and they’re one point ahead.

“Yes!” Impa yells from the sidelines. It looks like she ran from her test; there’s still a pencil in her hand as she punches her fist in the air.

“Thanks,” Zelda says as she subs out.

“No problem,” Impa says. “You did great!"

Zelda watches as the Champions go toe to toe with the Guardians. She cheers when Mipha does an elegant dump, when Urbosa hits the ball so hard it goes off the blocker’s fingers, when Daruk digs balls with gnarly spirals, and when Link and Revali pull off superstar plays.

The game ends when Link hits from the back row with impossible strength and precision right on the line.

“Nice!” she yells along with everyone.

(But she could swear that he smiles right at her, and it floods her with warmth.)

At Selmie’s Spot after, even Revali gives Link one of those boy handshakes where they do a one armed hug.

“Nice one,” Revali chokes out, sounding only minimally pained.

“Oh come on,” Daruk says. “The little guy won us the whole thing! Your yogurt’s on me.”

“No, no.” Link shakes his head. “Team effort.”

“Yeah,” Impa agrees, putting her arm around Zelda. “Team effort! To the Champions!”

Zelda smiles. ”To the Champions.”

On the walk home, they’re both quiet at first. She keeps racking her brain for funny things to say to break the silence, or excuses to see him so regularly again.

But then he reaches for her hand, so easily, and that’s all she can think about as they walk. His hand is warm and rough and lovely.

Hm, so lunch the other day was probably a date, she thinks. But I didn’t get that specific vibe? But hm, he’s holding my hand now, fuck. He’s holding my hand. Ok, concentrate--so lunch was a date. Ok but even if it wasn’t--maybe we should talk about this. Do we need to? Is there a “this” even?

The stress makes her palm sweaty. He probably notices, but thankfully he doesn’t break his hold and keeps the same steady pressure.

In the end, she manages a lame, “That was fun.” when they reach her gate. Instead of entering in the code immediately like usual, she turns around to face him. She drops his hand so he doesn’t drop hers first, but she wipes it on her sweater to have an excuse.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling faintly. The warm feeling starts to come back. “Really fun.”

“I definitely got better thanks to you,” she says.

He shrugs. “You were really determined to get better. Stubborn, even.”

It’s so easy to joke back. "Worried about it?”

“Oh, yeah. Always. I feel like you’re worrying right now.”

“Well, yeah,” she says. His eyes are so kind when he picks up her hand again. He laces his fingers around hers, and squeezes. The warm feeling multiplies tenfold. It makes it easy for her to ask, “Let’s do something tomorrow?”

He's really smiling now. “Let me cook for you.”

The seed of hope in her chest blooms. “Sounds good. See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”