Monday practice rolled around quickly, and as the team gathered in the gym, I could feel the energy buzzing. Everyone seemed to have settled into the rhythm of training, their movements a little sharper, their focus more honed. But my thoughts kept drifting back to my conversation with Hinata.
He'd been struggling—that much was clear. The way he described trying to grasp the concept of ego and failing made me realize something important. Hinata wasn't like the others. His instincts, while incredible, were also his biggest limitation. If I didn't guide him properly, he'd hit a wall.
The solution, I decided, wasn't just for him. The entire team could benefit from understanding how to turn their unique traits into strengths. And so, toward the end of practice, I called everyone together.
"Alright, gather up," I said, clapping my hands. The sound echoed through the gym as the team shuffled over, their expressions ranging from curious to mildly annoyed—Shigeo, of course, being the latter.
"What now, captain?" Shigeo asked, crossing his arms.
I ignored the jab and gestured for them to sit. "Today, we're going to talk about weapons."
"Weapons?" Riku tilted his head, confused.
"Yeah," I replied, leaning forward slightly. "Every great player has something they're known for. A strength they've honed to perfection. It's like their weapon on the court."
That seemed to catch their attention. Even Shigeo raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued.
"Take Daiki, for example," I began, turning to the tall, lanky first-year. "Your height is your greatest asset. But being tall isn't enough. You need to control the net. Think about how you can use your reach not just for blocking but for quick spikes and tipping the ball over the blockers. Make your presence at the net a threat."
Daiki nodded, his expression thoughtful.
"Minato," I continued, shifting my attention. "You're athletic, quick on your feet, and adaptable. Those traits make you a natural libero and a solid defensive player. Your weapon is your speed and your ability to readjust on the fly. Use that to outmaneuver your opponents."
Minato's usual quiet demeanor softened with a small smile, clearly pleased with the recognition.
"And Riku," I said, looking at the cheerful but clumsy first-year. "Your determination and energy are your greatest strengths. You're relentless, and that's something not everyone can claim. If you focus on improving your receives and digs, you can become the backbone of our defense. Someone the team can always rely on when the ball seems impossible to save."
Riku grinned, his enthusiasm shining through. "I'll do my best, captain!"
I nodded before turning my gaze to Hinata. His orange hair glistened with sweat, and he looked both eager and uncertain. "And then there's you, Hinata."
He straightened instinctively, his eyes wide.
"Your athleticism and instincts are unmatched," I said, pacing slightly as I spoke. "But relying on instinct alone isn't enough. Sure, it makes you unpredictable, but it also means you're inconsistent. If you miss a spike because you're not thinking it through, you're handing the opponents a free point. That's a luxury we can't afford."
Hinata's face fell slightly, but I pressed on. "To become a true ace, you need to make your plays reproducible. You need to know exactly how to recreate your best spikes—the timing, the angle, the speed. That way, even under pressure, you can deliver."
He nodded, his determination rekindling. "How do I do that?"
I motioned for him to follow me to the net. "Let's start small. First, focus on controlling your jumps. Instead of just reacting, think about where you're aiming. Visualize the exact spot on the court where you want the ball to land."
The rest of the team watched as I demonstrated a simple drill, spiking the ball with precision to the far corner of the opposing court. Then I had Hinata try. His first few attempts were wild, the ball flying out of bounds or into the net. But with each repetition, he improved, the ball landing closer and closer to the target.
"Good," I said, nodding. "Now take it slow. Practice makes perfect. Baby steps. Focus on one thing at a time, and the rest will follow."
By the end of the small drill, Hinata was visibly tired but grinning. "I think I'm starting to get it," he said, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"You're not there yet," I replied, smirking. "But you're on the right track. Keep working at it."
As practice wrapped up, I glanced around the gym. The team was tired but motivated, their faces filled with a new sense of purpose. Even Shigeo looked marginally impressed, though he'd never admit it outright.
Hinata lingered at the net, spiking a few more balls on his own. I watched him for a moment, a sense of pride swelling in my chest. He still had a long way to go, but I could see it clearly now. If he could make his instincts reproducible, he wouldn't just be a good player. He'd be unstoppable.
I watched Hinata for a few more minutes, letting him practice in silence. His persistence was admirable, but it was getting late. Finally, I called out, "Hinata, time to pack up. I've got to close the gym."
He looked over at me, dejected. "Just a few more?"
I shook my head. "Rest is part of training too," I said firmly. "You can't improve if you burn yourself out. Let's call it a day. Besides, I've got a little surprise planned for you all on Wednesday. You'll want to be ready for it."
Reluctantly, he nodded and grabbed the ball. As he walked toward the locker room, his shoulders slumped slightly, but I could still see the determination burning in his eyes. I stayed behind for a moment, taking in the now-empty gym, the faint echo of bouncing balls still lingering in my ears. This wasn't just a team—it was a symphony, and every player was finding their note. I'd make sure they played it perfectly.