The gym buzzed with the usual energy of a regular training session. Voices echoed as players shuffled across the court, practicing their serves and receives. But today felt different, charged with an air of anticipation.
I stood at the front of the court, clipboard in hand, scanning my teammates. Clearing my throat, I called for attention. The chatter died down, and all eyes turned to me.
"I have an announcement," I began, keeping my tone steady. "In one month, we'll be participating in a tournament."
The silence that followed was almost deafening. Then came the reactions, a mixed wave of excitement, nervousness, and disbelief.
"Wait, really?" Hinata's voice cut through, his face lighting up. "A real tournament?"
I nodded. "Yes, but there's more. This will be the first—and last—tournament with this team. Shigeo and I will graduate in two months, and this is the last tournament of the year."
The weight of my words sank in, and the reactions varied. Hinata looked thrilled, practically bouncing on his feet, while Riku scratched his head, mumbling something about how he wasn't ready. Minato and Daiki exchanged glances, their expressions serious as they processed the news. Shigeo leaned against the wall, arms crossed, quietly observing everyone.
"This is an opportunity to see how far we've come and to push ourselves further," I continued. "But it's also a chance to enjoy this journey as a team. So, let's make it count."
The next four weeks flew by in a blur of training. On Mondays and Wednesdays, I drilled everyone relentlessly, focusing on refining the basics and building synergy. Fridays were reserved for matches against the girls' team, who had become invaluable sparring partners.
During one practice match, I noticed Hinata moving with a new sense of confidence. He was calling for sets and taking risks he wouldn't have dared before. His jumps were higher, his spikes sharper, and his determination was palpable. I couldn't help but smile as he scored yet another point. His ego's starting to bloom, I thought. He's not just following the flow anymore; he's taking charge.
Shigeo, meanwhile, had finally started addressing his stamina. Though he still grumbled about the extra laps I assigned, his improvement was undeniable. He wasn't stopping as frequently to catch his breath, and his endurance during long rallies had noticeably improved. Watching him push himself, I felt a flicker of pride. Even he's evolving.
Between the grueling practices, lighter moments brought balance to the team's dynamic. One day, during a break, Riku decided to show off by doing push-ups next to Hinata. When Hinata challenged him to clap between each rep, Riku barely managed three before collapsing face-first to the floor. The entire team erupted into laughter.
"Maybe stick to receiving practice," Minato teased, earning another round of snickers.
After practice, Hinata often dragged Shigeo and me to the local convenience store, insisting we try his favorite snacks. One time, Shigeo made the mistake of trying a particularly sour candy. His expression twisted so dramatically that we couldn't stop laughing for minutes. Even Shigeo chuckled, despite his obvious regret.
Despite the laughter, improvement remained the focus. I spent extra time analyzing everyone's strengths and weaknesses, tailoring drills to fit their needs. Minato worked on his lateral movements, becoming more agile and reliable defensively. Daiki's timing as a blocker improved significantly, but what surprised me most was his potential as a setter. During practice, he occasionally stepped in when Shigeo wasn't available, delivering precise sets and controlling the pace of the game like a natural. Riku's receiving also became consistent, and I could see him starting to take pride in his role.
For me, the grind was personal. I pushed myself harder than ever, determined to be ready for anything the team needed. As an all-rounder, I made sure I could step in wherever necessary, whether it was spiking, receiving, or even setting.
On the second-to-last day of training, I gathered the team after a session. "You've all improved a lot," I said, looking at each of them. "But rest is just as important as training. Tomorrow, don't come to practice. Take the day to recover."
There were murmurs of agreement, though a few—Hinata included—looked disappointed. I reassured them with a nod. "We'll hit the court stronger for it."
The next day, the gym was supposed to be empty. Yet there I was, practicing my spike serves. The sharp sound of the ball hitting the floor echoed through the space. I knew I should've been resting, but I couldn't help myself.
The sound of footsteps made me glance toward the door. Shigeo walked in, his expression unreadable at first, but then he smirked knowingly. "Knew it," he said, leaning casually against the wall.
"Didn't I tell you to rest?" I asked, trying to sound authoritative.
"Didn't you?" he countered, his smirk widening. "Hypocrite."
I sighed, tossing the ball into the air for another serve. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right.
After watching me for a moment, Shigeo grabbed a ball and stepped onto the court. "Might as well set for you if you're going to keep this up," he said, his tone half-serious. I didn't protest, and soon we were running a rhythm—me spiking, him setting.
After a while, Shigeo broke the silence. "That day, why did you suddenly want to play volleyball?"
The question caught me off guard. I froze mid-step, the ball rolling to the side as I hesitated. Back then, the answer had been simple: I wanted to see a good match between Hinata and Kageyama. Not the match they would have next year, but the final match. From the manga, I knew they would face each other as pros in the ultimate showdown, but I never had the chance to finish reading it. I just wanted to give Hinata, the underdog, a better chance of winning.
But I couldn't tell Shigeo that.
I took a moment, my thoughts swirling, before answering. "To be honest, I was bored. Football was fun, but it wasn't challenging enough. I thought trying something completely different might be... stimulating."
Shigeo eyed me skeptically but didn't press further. "I see," he said simply, though I could tell he wasn't entirely convinced.
I knew it was a lame excuse, and Shigeo's reaction confirmed it. Still, I was grateful he didn't push the matter. We returned to the rhythm of spiking and setting, the sound of the ball hitting the floor filling the gym once more.
Eventually, the stray balls littering the court forced us to stop. Together, we gathered them, the silence between us comfortable this time. After locking up the gym, we headed out, the cool evening air greeting us as we stepped outside.
"You're still a hypocrite," Shigeo teased as we walked.
I chuckled, shaking my head. "Yeah, yeah. Let's go home."