Chapter Text
“What? Ahahaha!”
I click my tongue when Goshiki’s first reaction to the story of what just happened is to cackle. Semi and Tendou, who have been with me since I got into the gym, seem to hold themselves back from doing the same thing out of confusion. Perhaps it’s my dramatic way of telling. Maybe they just don’t get the revulsion I feel, although I’m pretty sure they’ve heard a few things about my sad middle school life from either Goshiki or Wakatoshi.
“I think what you did was right,” Semi says after Goshiki’s loudness subdues.
“Yes.” Tendou folds his hands like he’s about to give the most excellent advice—we all know that he won’t. “You aren’t supposed to forgive someone that easily.”
“Wait. That’s not what I’m saying. Forgiveness is always good,” Semi says.
“For your kind, Eita-kun. I love teaching people some lessons by not forgiving them.”
“…can you explain both of your sentences?”
“Your kind of people… Good-natured people, I guess…?” Tendou pauses for a moment, looking as if he suddenly remembers the cruel things Semi has done in the past. “Anyway, for my second statement, I love seeing people feel bad about themselves, you know? It teaches them to respect me more in the future.”
Semi frowns at Tendou’s eccentric rule. “You can do that while forgiving them.”
“Of course, not!”
“And why not?”
“They’ll repeat their mistake if you do because they believe that you’ll forgive them again.”
Semi sighs, seemingly not wanting to agree without a fight. “Then that’ll be a different case.”
“How different? Will you keep forgiving someone who repeats their mistake even after you reprimand them over and over again?”
“It depends on their mistake. If they aren’t good with math, you can’t really help it.”
“Wow, you’re an idiot, Eita-kun! Why are you giving a contrasting example? It isn’t about something that they’re bad at, but will you forgive someone who keeps hurting you for no reason?”
“Fine,” Semi says sternly. “I won’t.”
“Exactly!” Tendou shouts before laughing as if the prize of their debate is a sack of gold. This isn’t the first time Semi fails at handling a conversation with Tendou. Half of them is because he’s too tired to go on, but the other half is because, despite his silliness, Tendou is actually a clever talker. Watching his exchange with Semi should prove it further
Looking around, I see Wakatoshi, who’s still talking to his old head coach, with Shirabu on his side. Another male team is practicing across from us who, from the way they keep staring at me, seems to know me and the reason I’m here. I still think that this isn’t my right place and I must go back soon, but it hasn’t been fifteen minutes. At least I should speak a bit more to my friends, especially the one bringing me here in the first place.
Just when I think of him, Wakatoshi is done speaking and walks back to me. Like a romantic comedy movie, Goshiki, Semi, and Tendou step back to provide a path for him. They giggle, copied by some of the players I’ve never spoken to in the background. I’m just trying my best to hide my embarrassment. Based on Wakatoshi’s fixed steps and gaze, I won’t question if his coaches and teachers also wonder about our relationship.
“I’m sorry for leaving you,” he sounds disappointed at himself.
“What? No. You didn’t do anything wrong, so you don’t have to apologize,” I say, and his face softens up instantly. He always seems to believe in me more than I do myself.
“All right. We have about two hours before we need to warm up.”
“Oh. Don’t you need to practice more like the other team?”
“No. We’ve had enough last night.”
“Did you not practice before coming here?” I look surprised because I understand the resting part, but I thought Shiratorizawa would never skip another morning match before their breakfast on the big day. That was what I did in middle school, so I assumed the other strong teams would do the same.
“No. We’ve prepared ourselves enough.”
“I see. That’s good,” I say. It’s another amusing thing to know how everyone else drills themselves until they could hurt their bodies, while the favorites seem so chill about everything and still end up winning. My eyes flutter when I realize where my mind goes; to be so convinced that Shiratorizawa will claim another victory. I can’t do it.
“What’s the matter?” Of course, Wakatoshi notices the changes on my face.
“What’s the matter?” I ask back with a grin, still trying to hide it from him.
“You still look tense.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You do. I know you.”
His solemn yet gentle voice makes my heart skip a beat. I glance at the three boys who can hear our conversation crystal clear while trying to hold back their laughter. They appear to struggle more than when I spoke of my old libero. This is actually borderline humiliating. It’s worse than sending Wakatoshi off at the airport because at least there were only a few people there, most of whom I spoke to daily. Today, hundreds of strangers’ ears are prying.
“Is it something you can’t tell me?” Wakatoshi asks.
“There isn’t anything to tell you, Waka—stop doing that, Tendou-san. Please,” I change the topic when Tendou points toward Wakatoshi, shapes a heart with both of his hands, and points toward me, all while silently mouthing “he loves you”. He laughs at my reaction, confusing Wakatoshi, who thankfully never cares about whatever his friends do or say regarding us.
“Is everything okay?” Wakatoshi goes back to focusing on my well-being. Ordinary people would have asked Tendou about what he had just done, but Ushijima Wakatoshi doesn’t belong in one of those generic groups.
“I told you to stop worrying!” I say. “Are you going to stay here for two hours? Is there another place you want to go? I don’t mind being here, but we can always talk elsewhere. Maybe somewhere quieter?”
“Do you want to go somewhere the day after tomorrow?” Wakatoshi asks.
“The day after tomorrow? You mean after the finals? Are you sure?”
“Pfft, look at him connecting everything you ask to having a date with you. How innocent,” Tendou finally speaks his mind. He might want to give some alone time for Wakatoshi and me today, but it isn’t really him to contain his opinion for that long.
“Okay. Let’s leave them alone. Tsutomu, you too.” Ignoring Tendou’s childish whimper, Semi drags him away from us, and Goshiki willingly follows his upperclassman’s order. They should have done that earlier, but it doesn’t mean that most of them can’t hear us if they try. Our best noise suppressor is the sound made by the players from the other side who haven’t stopped spiking and serving.
“Yes. After the finals,” Wakatoshi says. I do feel bad that he keeps getting interrupted by everyone. Sadly, this bounds to happen when we’re surrounded by too many people who want something to do with us.
“I don’t mind hanging out with you, but won’t you be tired?”
“I’m never tired during the finals. It’s only three sets in a day.”
“Oh, yeah? What if it won’t?” I narrow my eyes, noting the fact that there will be five sets allowed in the finals and not three as usual. The winner must win the first three games instead of two.
“I’ll make time for you.”
“Okay, but don’t force yourself. There’s always next time.”
“Are you rejecting me?” he asks, once again looking like I’ve been diagnosed with an incurable disease, and this will be the last time he can see me. If we were alone, I would reassure him more by touching or rubbing his arm, but my words are the only thing I can use right now. Even then, I can’t be as sweet as usual because people are annoying.
“We’ll see tomorrow, okay? If you aren’t tired, then sure. Where do you want to go?” I smile, which is another thing that can always ease his heart. We end up talking a bit about the upcoming plan before going back to where his friends are sitting on the floor, making a circle like there’s a fire pit in the middle. Tendou continues to tease us, but the others always find a more interesting thing to discuss.
After winning and packing our bags, my team stops by the single whiteboard in Sendai Gymnasium’s hallway. Since most of the teams have finished their games earlier than us, we can see who’s progressing into the second day. We’re going to face Wakutani Minami High School, another school that managed to get into the top four of Interhigh last June. If we could beat Johzenji without breaking too much sweat, Wakutani shouldn’t be considerably harder.
“Oh. We might not be facing Aoba Jousai.” Sugawara’s finger points at the group above us. “Look. They’re going to play against Datekou. Who knows what’ll happen? Both of them are only getting better.”
“Between them, I don’t know which one I’d rather choose…” Azumane murmurs.
“Either way, I’m excited to get into the semifinals!” Hinata happily says as if he never knows what it means to be exhausted. He’ll sleep on our way back to school, but at the moment, he looks like he didn’t just run around the court an hour. He’s also the same during our long regular practices.
“L/N,” Ukai says as he looks at me. “Wakutani Minami’s captain, who’s also the main hitter of the team, has a playstyle similar to yours. He’s good at angling his spikes, although you’re more precise. I think you can teach the boys a few things tonight.”
“Do you want me to teach them a way to stop that kind of attack?” I ask.
Ukai smiles. “Exactly. Do you think you can do it?”
“Absolutely.”
“Perfect.”
Those who overhear our little exchange then speak of how they’re looking forward to playing with me. I haven’t done it much since my father called me out during our summer practice in Tokyo, so I should still be mindful tonight. To think of it, I’ve been “playing” with my students in Little Blasters, but it isn’t strenuous. All I do is pass the ball back and forth, fix the way they position their arms and feet, and anything that doesn’t require me to lift my broken left arm up high.
Wakatoshi and his friends have sent me another congratulation for beating Johzenji, and I congratulate them back. I thought I would see them again, but their bus has disappeared from the parking lot. Since our games started simultaneously, that could only mean that their opponents were far below their level that a thirty-minute match could be done in less than twenty. It’s a classic move from the strongest school in the prefecture.
The school pays for our dinner at a nearby rice bowl restaurant before we head back to Karasuno’s second gym. As usual, we start the evening by analyzing our previous game—such as our weaknesses and strengths as an individual and team—before discussing the plans for tomorrow. We do this for at least an hour while waiting for our food to be absorbed entirely because there’s nothing worse than working out with an upset stomach.
I didn’t expect Ukai to mention me a lot when talking about Wakutani Minami, but he truly believes that facing their ace should be similar to facing me. He even recalled the last few games I was in, where I practically blasted through the blockers who were almost as big as Kei using the trick of hitting the ball against their fingers and make it bounce away. I wasn’t one of the tallest hitters back then, but I could keep winning that way.
“I suppose you would teach me the most,” Kei, who’s been sitting next to me, tells me once we’re done with the rundown.
“The best way to prevent me from scoring is to have somebody on the sidelines receiving the ball. More likely than not, it’ll fall into the opponent’s side,” I say as we walk toward the court. Nobody tells me to join the game since the beginning, but I know I must do it. How else are they going to understand my spikes if they aren’t playing against me?
“That’s going to be tricky.” Kei seems unsure. “Is there a definite way to block you?”
“If your arms are long and sturdy enough.”
“What do you think of mine?”
“You’re like a stick figure that’s about to break in two if you accidentally crash against the wall…” I swing two of my fingers, imitating someone’s walking. Of course, I don’t forget to laugh because I always find joy in making fun of the team’s coldest guy.
Kei hits my cheek softly with his knuckle. “That’s rude. I’m seriously asking.”
“Didn’t I explain it clearly enough…?”
“You’re saying that I’m not strong enough to block you.”
“I didn’t say it like that.”
“You were implying it like that.”
I laugh even harder, but it’s because I’m happy for him. Seeing him not taking volleyball too lightly anymore is an occurrence as rare as a shooting star, and it’s happening in front of my very eyes. This brings me back to when he told me that he’s considered to continue playing right after high school, perhaps also becoming a professional player when he gets the chance. Today seems to be an early sign of him listening before giving up.
“Did you have fun?” Sawamura comes to me after we finish practicing at around eight o’clock. All I did was switching between the two teams and hoping that they would learn the tricks by themselves. Between four games and thirty or so spikes that were given to me, they managed to stop more than half of them. I’m not sure if it was because I’d lost my credibility, or my team was only getting smarter.
“I did, but I hope I was useful enough.” I smile, watching Sawamura squat down next to me as I continue stretching my legs. Although my sharpness has decreased over the past year, at least the residual energy is still there.
“Why do you even think that you aren’t useful? We’re incredibly lucky to have you,” he says. “I just want to make sure that you aren’t hurting yourself. If we win the games tomorrow, we’ll face Shiratorizawa. We might need your help again.”
“But I don’t play like Wakatoshi.”
He chuckles. “Nobody plays like him. What I mean is that we can always learn a few things from playing alongside you. Just like what people say; once a star, always a star.”
I’ve heard people quoting the phrase before, but it’s comical when it comes from someone who barely speaks of my old accomplishments. “You praise me too much. Thank you, and I’m sorry if sometimes it looks like I doubt this team. I just want to be a good manager,” I continue since I know I haven’t said anything after the small clash between me, Tanaka, and Nishinoya.
“No. Thank you,” Sawamura skips over my last sentence, which only means that he doesn’t want to bring the topic back. Maybe everyone has forgotten it ever happened, and it’s all just in my head.
“Just remember what I said.” I stand up and smile once more at the guy. “Keep covering the sides, and you’ll be able to stop their captain from scoring. Receiving is what you do best, Sawamura-san.”
“You bet we’re going to the nationals.”
I give him a thumbs-up before leaving the gym to change my clothes back in the managers’ room. Yachi has started wearing a coat since we’re entering autumn, so I might start doing the same when it’s getting colder. Kei is waiting for me outside as usual, and we walk out of the school together. The trees along the road have turned yellow, but they aren’t falling much. We must wait for a little longer for windier days.
“I wish I had watched you more in middle school,” Kei confesses before we even reach the gate, startling me a bit.
“Wow… I didn’t expect that from you. What’s wrong? Did I, once again, take your breath away?” I ask, laughing while nudging him playfully. He doesn’t answer, but his curled lips tell me that he’s too shy to admit that I’m right.
While I’m searching for another thing to say, my attention is captured by two blue wooden benches and a vending machine in the intersection just before we leave Karasuno’s neighborhood. There used to only be the latter with a trash can and two street lights on each side. I run toward the vending machine and get two cans of cola—there are more options, but my fingers move without thinking twice. Kei understands what I’m doing, so he quietly follows me.
“These benches weren’t here yesterday,” he notes the difference.
“I don’t think they were here in the morning, either.” I give the can in my right hand to him before sitting on one of the benches. It can fit more than three adults, and he takes a seat next to me. People rarely pass by this street, so it’s a good place to have an intimate conversation.
“Thank you.” Kei puts his bag next to him but not between us. I, too, do the same. It’s been a while since we could sit down alone like this. During the day, Yamaguchi will always be with us, and we always go straight home after the club activity ends.
“Kei, I wonder why you didn’t ask about what happened to me today,” I say after opening the lid of my cola. The fizzing sound is quite loud that I almost thought it would spill out and make a mess everywhere.
Kei gulps his drink once before asking back, “Do you have something important to tell me?”
“Maybe? I just thought you would ask first. Usually, you would. When Waka—” I stop for a second to see the face he makes, and proceeds when I don’t see a significant change, “You saw when Wakatoshi came over. I thought you would be curious about what happened after that.”
“Huh?” He looks confused and mischievous at the same time. “Would you be more content if I got curious?”
“No, I mean—oh my, why are you making it so hard for me…? What I’m trying to say is you used to want to know everything. Now, you don’t seem to care. I want to know what’s going on in your head. I can never understand you completely.”
“I don’t let it bother me anymore.” His eyes become sharper as they stare deep into mine. “I came to a realization that I’m the one sitting next to you, not him or anyone else. There’s no point in getting angry because you’ve shown and treated me like your closest person.”
My only response is to smile. Kei is one of the last people I thought could change instantly, but what do I know about life? My fathers’ words about how we’re very young and growing come to mind. After his sudden confession, several weeks of the silent treatment, and our last deep talk, Kei has matured up. It feels like I’m the one who’s still stuck in my dark world, thinking about problems that might not even exist.
“When I was out with Wakatoshi, my old libero came out of nowhere and apologized to me,” I say. My little date with Wakatoshi doesn’t need to be shared, but this one should be important to someone who knows about my unpleasant experiences in middle school.
“The one who tried to boycott you for so many times?” he asks. I’m not sure if “boycott” is the proper word, but she was the pioneer of all the negativities.
“Yes. It was embarrassing because she confronted me in the main hallway. I told her that her apology was fake since she waited for this long when she knew my house and everything else, but Wakatoshi told me to forgive her and move on with my days. She then asked for my LINE ID. I told her that she could ask Shiki-chan.” I clench the shirt covering my chest. “Ugh, I still shiver when I imagine the meeting. I don’t even want to check the internet because maybe some articles are written about it.”
“I can look them up for you.”
“Please, Kei!” I yell. Most houses around are built within tall walls, so nobody should be too suspicious about the pitchy voice they just heard.
“Hahaha, I’m just kidding,” Kei says. “So are you guys chatting and being friendly now?”
“No. I don’t think Shiki-chan has given her my ID. I already told him, but I haven’t heard more”
“He must be busy practicing. He’s in the starting line-up after all.”
“That’s why I don’t want to bother him with something this stupid. I did tell him when we met earlier, and he was only laughing. All he said was that he agreed with me forgiving her.”
“But do you feel lighter?”
“Lighter?”
“After forgiving someone, usually it feels like a burden has been lifted off your shoulders.”
“Um, no,” I say. “I think that only applies if you think of that person, or at least meet them every day, so you have to be normal around them. Like whenever we fight, it feels nice after we make up. I never thought of her. I actually felt upset when she came like that. She made me remember all the bad things from the past.”
Kei sips his cola again. “Understandable.”
“Were you talking about your older brother?”
I hit the perfect spot when Kei widens his eyes and gives me a baffled look. “How could—did Yamaguchi tell you?”
“About what happened to your brother’s volleyball career in high school? Yes. A while ago, but I kind of forgot about it. I’m sorry. Do I have to be sorry for knowing and then forgetting it? You don’t have to talk to me about it if you aren’t comfortable with it. Let’s finish our drink and catch the next train!” I mumble out words because I realize one thing; talking about his family affair is going to be rougher than whatever my old team did to me.
“No. I should have told you myself earlier.” Kei’s voice goes back to being calm.
“I already know, so you don’t have to.” I get closer to him, clutching onto his left arm. “Don’t get mad at Yamaguchi. He told me after we had a fight, so it wasn’t because he couldn’t keep your secrets.”
“I won’t be mad at him.”
“Are you sure?”
“He told you, not someone else, so it’s fine.”
I smile. “Because you know I won’t tell anyone else about it?”
“Yes, but also because I’m comfortable sharing that stuff with you,” he says before finishing the last bit of his drink and throwing the empty can inside the bin. “Do you have more things to say?”
“I hope we don’t lose tomorrow, but I won’t know what to do if we have to face Shiratorizawa,” I say, holding the can that’s half full.
“You’re still worrying about that? Come on, nobody cares if we lose and you cheer for another team. You’re friends with many of them.”
“Some might care. Although they don’t say it in front of me, they might talk behind my back.”
“Yamaguchi and I won’t, and we’re the ones spending time with you during breaks.” Kei stands up and offers his hand to me. “Let’s go home. We don’t want to miss the train.”
I leave the bench and grab his hand—there’s no way I won’t do it. “Aren’t we funny, Kei? You kiss my cheek and hold my hands ever so casually. We’re doing couples stuff when we aren’t dating.”
“Do you want to?”
“Huh? What are you saying?” I ask, laughing awkwardly. “We’ve decided to keep it this way, haven’t we?”
Kei doesn’t give me an answer as he looks away and squeezes my hand tighter. I think of asking for the meaning behind his subtle gesture, but I’m too afraid to find out.