The sun had dipped below the horizon by the time practice wrapped up. The gym lights flickered off one by one, and the team dispersed, their chatter fading into the night. Shigeo and I ended up walking home together, our paths conveniently aligned. The silence between us was initially broken only by the rhythmic crunch of gravel underfoot.
I glanced sideways at him, his usual slouch in full display as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "You hate losing that much, huh?" I teased, a smirk tugging at my lips.
Shigeo scoffed, not even bothering to look at me. "Who doesn't?" he muttered.
"Your ego's starting to show, you know," I said, my tone light but probing.
That made him snort, his gaze fixed ahead. "Yeah, right. You've been going on about ego since practice started. What's your deal with it, anyway?"
I shrugged. "Just an observation. During the match, you stepped up. That dump shot? Definitely an ego move."
Shigeo rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, conductor. Don't get too full of yourself just because you won one match."
The conversation lulled for a moment, but I wasn't done poking. My mind kept circling back to how Shigeo managed to keep the team alive during critical points. It wasn't just his trust in Hinata; it was his ability to calculate risks and act on them. "Hey, you know," I started again, "if you figure out how to make that quick attack work consistently, you might actually give me a run for my money. What do you think that makes you—some kind of genius setter?"
Shigeo smirked, finally glancing my way. "A genius setter? Please. I'm already better than you at setting. All you've got is your superior physique."
I chuckled, not missing the competitive edge in his voice. "Better than me, huh? Guess we'll have to see about that next match. Try not to let your ego get ahead of your stamina." "Hey, why'd you try so many quick attacks with Hinata? Only two out of five worked. You're not usually the type to bet on long shots."
He hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered his answer. Finally, he spoke, his voice measured. "Because they were the best possible plays in that moment. You were playing a great game by the end there. Normal attacks would've been predictable, and you'd almost definitely block them." He paused, kicking at a stray pebble. "Hinata's a freak athlete. He doesn't think—he just reacts. If anyone could make those quicks work, it's him."
His answer left me speechless for a moment. Shigeo's words carried a rare depth, his trust in Hinata's instincts shining through. It made me reflect on the match more deeply, particularly on how Shigeo seemed to see the court almost like I did. Was it possible he had a similar ability to analyze and predict movements? Maybe he wasn't fully aware of it yet, but there were moments during the match where his plays felt deliberate, as though he saw things a step ahead. That kind of vision could be incredible if he honed it. I stayed quiet, my thoughts swirling as I turned his reasoning over in my mind. Shigeo didn't seem to mind the silence, and it settled comfortably between us as we walked. Still, I could feel the unspoken challenge lingering in the air. He hated losing, and I could tell he was already thinking about how to beat me next time. That was fine by me. I was looking forward to it.
I thought back to the match, replaying every detail. Shigeo's trust in Hinata's abilities was well-placed, even if the execution wasn't perfect. He had a sharp mind for the game, and his decision-making was impressive, especially considering how green we all were as a team. It wasn't just about instinct; there was a method to his madness, and I couldn't help but wonder how far that could take him. That kind of connection could be a game-changer for the team if nurtured properly. My mind wandered to what I could teach them—not just Shigeo and Hinata, but everyone.
Different attacking tempos came to mind first. In the anime, Hinata's synchronization with Kageyama was unmatched because of their varied tempos. Teaching him to adapt and attack with different speeds would give him an edge. Mid-air battles, like feints and rebounds, were another possibility. Hinata's athleticism made him a prime candidate for learning how to outmaneuver blockers in the air.
But for now, I reminded myself, the basics had to come first. Serves and receives were still shaky across the board. Leveling up those areas would lay the groundwork for everything else. Without that foundation, none of the advanced techniques would stick. It was tempting to dive into the flashy stuff, but patience was key.
My thoughts drifted to the upcoming training sessions. If everything went as planned, they'd be a great experience for the whole team. I had ideas brewing, drills that would challenge their weaknesses and build their strengths. Just imagining their reactions brought a grin to my face. They had so much potential—they just didn't know it yet.
Shigeo's voice cut through my thoughts. "You're awfully quiet. Plotting something?"
"Always," I replied without missing a beat.
"Figures," he muttered, shaking his head.
The rest of the walk passed in companionable silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. By the time we reached the point where our paths split, I felt a strange sense of clarity. Shigeo wasn't just a natural talent—he was starting to tap into something deeper. And as for me? I was ready to push this team further than any of us thought possible.
"See you tomorrow," I said as we parted ways.
Shigeo waved lazily over his shoulder. "Don't make the next sessions weird, Keiji."
I laughed. "No promises."