The gym buzzed with a tense energy as I watched Hinata step up to the line, clutching the ball tightly. Shigeo's teasing had clearly gotten to him, his shoulders were tense, and his nerves were visible in the way he shifted his stance. Serving was unique in volleyball, I thought, the one moment in a match where everything rested solely on the individual. No teammates to rely on. Just you and the ball.
Hinata took a deep breath and tossed the ball high into the air. His form was decent, but I caught the hesitation in his movements as he struck it. The ball sailed over the net, not quite where he'd intended, and I saw him flinch. I frowned but relaxed slightly as the ball dipped perfectly inside the court.
The girls' libero positioned herself with practiced ease, receiving the ball cleanly and sending it straight to Misaki, their captain and setter. I noticed Hinata let out an audible sigh of relief, clearly grateful the serve hadn't been a disaster, but my focus remained on the court. The girls were transitioning into their attack, and I needed to see how they'd execute it.
Misaki moved fluidly, her eyes scanning the court as she set up the play. The ball arced high, her fingers sending it toward their number 11 in the front row. Daiki reacted instantly, using his height to his advantage as he jumped to block.
But I saw it—a feint.
Number 11 swung for the spike but deliberately missed the ball at the last second, letting it pass through her hands. It was a perfect setup for number 3, who came charging from the back row. My focus sharpened, and the court transformed in my mind into a music sheet. Every movement of the opposing team etched itself like notes waiting to be played.
Focus, I told myself, input all the information. The players' positions, their body language, the angles of their movements. Predict the next steps—not just theirs, but my team's as well. The entire play unfolded like a synchronized melody, each piece falling into place.
Shigeo saw it too. He was already in position, his actions aligning seamlessly with my calculated view of the field. We jumped in unison, our hands forming a solid wall as number 3 unleashed a powerful spike. The ball collided with our block and ricocheted back toward the girls' side with force.
Their libero sprinted to the back, her feet skimming the floor as she dove for the ball. Dust kicked up as she extended her arms, barely managing to save it. The ball wobbled but stayed in play, sent back over the net in a desperate effort.
The stray ball landed perfectly within Riku's range. "Got it!" he shouted, steadying himself as he received it cleanly and passed it to Shigeo. I scanned the field again, noting how the girls' defense had shifted. Their focus was clearly on Hinata, wary of his earlier quick attack. I smirked to myself. They didn't realize it had been more of a fluke than a calculated move.
Shigeo saw it too. He sent the ball high and fast to Daiki instead. Misaki, ever sharp, read the play and moved to block. Her timing was impeccable. Daiki went for the spike, but Misaki's block sent the ball hurtling back to our side.
Daiki scrambled to recover, but the ball hit the floor before he could reach it. A cheer erupted from the girls' side as the score evened out, 1-1.
The match continued in a heated back-and-forth. The girls' team, clearly more experienced, scored steadily, capitalizing on their strong serves. The boys were still building their foundations, and the first-years especially struggled with their receives. To my surprise, Riku was improving faster than I'd expected. Each time the ball came his way, he steadied himself and managed to send it cleanly back to Shigeo.
Hinata, after a few exchanges, seemed to calm his nerves. He began moving with more confidence, and the points he scored boosted his morale and the team's energy. Every time he leapt into the air for a spike, his speed and height fascinated me. Especially the girls, playing against him for the first time, looked awed. Our team was used to it by now, but it was still a sight to see.
I was slowly getting used to the way my vision worked, seeing the court and every player from an almost detached, bird's-eye perspective. I couldn't help but notice that Shigeo seemed to see the same way. At first, I thought it was just my imagination, but the plays he made and the balls he set were almost always the best options available. Now, I was certain of it. Shigeo's ability to read the game was on par with mine—if not better.
The match reached a crucial point at 22-20 in favor of the girls. We had held our ground, but small mistakes had cost us too many points. Still, the boys didn't let up. On the next play, we were on the attack. Shigeo set the ball to Hinata, and I watched as he took off. His speed and the height of his jump were breathtaking. He was met with two blockers, but from his posture, it was clear he was aiming for a straight shot.
I saw the girls' libero shift slightly, moving to cover the open spot. In mid-air, Hinata adjusted, swinging diagonally instead. My heart raced as the ball collided with the blockers' hands and slammed back onto our court.
The whistle blew, and the girls scored another point. 23-20.
"Sorry!" Hinata called out to the team, his voice firm as he faced them head-on, refusing to let his head drop.
"Don't mind it. You'll get it next time," came the chorus of reassurances from the team. I nodded, agreeing, but something about that play gnawed at me.
Shigeo caught my expression and smirked. "What's wrong? Did you read the rhythm wrong?"
I ignored him, my eyes fixed on Hinata. The way he had adjusted mid-air… it wasn't just instinct. There was something more to it.
Walking over, I stopped in front of him. He looked up at me, confused.
"Hinata," I said slowly, "could you see the court?"