Chapter Text
Luck. One of the most precious and ungovernable resources in the world. It decides where you are born, who you are born to, and what opportunities you have. There is no person in the world luck does not effect, and at the same time there is no person in the world who can control or even predict when it will play a hand in one's affairs.
Yet it is not the only thing that determines the course of one's life. What matters just as much, or perhaps more, is what one chooses to do with those opportunities they are given.
"What's that?" Kageyama startled, almost dropping his ball. It was breaktime and he'd been practicing sets against a red brick wall when a face popped up over the top of it. It was a girl's face, around his age, but he knew she was in the grade above because that was what the wall was separating him from. It divided the courtyard into two halves, one for the first graders, like him, the other for the second graders.
What made it especially alarming was the fact that the wall was six feet tall, so the girl must've been well off the ground and poised for a nasty fall if she slipped. Kageyama licked his lips and tasted the remnants of his snack, a banana and half a pack of Chocorooms. He hoped the girl hadn't seen the chocolate stains. "What's that?" The girl repeated, and he realized she was talking about his volleyball.
"This is a volleyball," he said.
"What do you do with it?"
"It's a game. It's a sport," he corrected himself, but the girl's face had already split into a grin.
"Okay!" she said, and started hauling herself over the wall.
"What are you doing?" He asked indignantly. The girl paused, looking at him like he was stupid (he was not stupid).
"Coming over. Make sure you catch me!"
"But why?" She blew a tuft of hair out of her face.
"To learn volleyball, duh. Will you teach me?" He found himself nodding.
"Hey!" His teacher finally spotted what was going on and marched over. "What is this?" One the other side of the wall, he heard another's voice.
"Sora!" They said, but they sounded more exasperated than angry. The girl, Sora, yelped. She unhooked her leg from the wall and lost her balance for one frightening second, almost giving him a heart attack at the ripe age of five years old, but she turned to him with an easy grin.
"See you tomorrow!" she called down. "Make sure to teach me how to play that game-sport!"
The next day he returned to the wall and didn't have to wait long before he heard a voice on the other side.
"Psst! You there?" Sora asked.
"Yes," Kageyama replied, wary of his teacher. She hadn't blamed him for yesterday's incident, thanks to his reputation as a quiet, restrained student, but she seemed to want to keep an eye on him. She'd been watching him like a hawk ever since they'd been let out.
"Is it safe?" Sora asked.
"To do what?"
"To come over." Of course. He flushed, grateful that she couldn't bear witness to his embarrassment.
"No, my teacher is watching."
"Yeah, mine too. Whatever! Can you teach me over the wall? Do I need the fancy ball you have, or will this one do?" Something sailed over the wall, pink and squishy. Kageyama whirled around to see if his teacher had seen, but she was busy.
"It's fine for a beginner," he said before tossing it back.
"Great! Thanks, uh… what's your name?"
"Kageyama Tobio," he said.
"Thanks, Tobio. You know my name, right? It's Imanari Sora. I should pay you. What do you want? Don't say money, because I don't have any. Don't say snack either, because I ate all mine already."
"You don't need to pay me," said Kageyama. "Let's start. Volleyball has six basic skills: setting, spiking, serving, passing, digging, and blocking. Let's do setting first. Toss the ball up and… um." he hesitated. How was he supposed to explain this? How had his grandpa done it? "Set it."
"Okay," said Sora. "Is setting the one you were doing yesterday?"
"Yeah."
"Am I doing it right?"
"I have no idea."
"Okay." There was a beat of silence. "This is fun."
"Really?" he asked excitedly.
"Yeah." Funnily enough, Sora was being completely sincere. She recalled Tobio's movements from the previous day and emulated them the best she could.
"Is it supposed to make a noise?" she asked.
"No." She adjusted her positioning until it felt right and the ball stopped fighting her. She liked that she could control where it went with just a touch of her fingertips, and that she knew where it would go even though she wasn't touching it anymore. At some point Tobio started practicing again too. She could tell by the sound of his ball hitting the wall, which was what had drawn her to him in the first place.
"What are you doing, Sora?" One of her classmates asked.
"Playing volleyball." They stared at her.
"…Wanna play tag?"
"Nah."
"Okay."
Eventually the two did end up meeting face-to-face. About a week after the incident, both Sora and Kageyama's teachers couldn't be bothered monitoring them anymore, so when one of Sora's classmates tripped and fell, requiring her teacher's attention, she hauled butt over the wall faster than a lightning bolt.
They looked each other up and down. Tobio had black hair and a sharp gaze, with blue-gray eyes that shifted color in the light; Sora had black hair and gray eyes, too, but hers were gray like the winter sky.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi," he said.
"I like your volleyball." She pointed.
And so a lifelong friendship was forged. Shockingly, Sora's setting wasn't bad. Under Tobio's guidance, her talent blossomed, even more so when she began to receive training from his grandfather, Kazuyo-san. He'd come to pick Tobio up and, after learning that Sora would be staying at school until late, offered for her to accompany them to practice. Her father had agreed 'under duress', as he would later claim to her mother.
"Just look at those eyes," he'd cooed. "Alright, fine. I'll come pick you up at six."
"You're dad's a teacher," Tobio had remarked.
"Yeah, he teaches the sixth grade."
"Wow." To them, that was a number as distant and incomprehensible as the stars in the sky. Something they could see, but never touch.
Sora also met Tobio's older sister, a girl called Miwa. She was pretty and smart and had long, soft hair she'd let Sora braid sometimes. She played volleyball too, and she was leagues better than either of them.
"It's only cuz she's older," Tobio growled, "just wait until we grow up. We'll show her."
"Yeah!" Sora agreed, though her motivations were entirely different. She thought maybe if she improved, Miwa-chan would be impressed and say something like, 'Wow, Sora-chan, how cool.' That would be nice.
Because all four of their parents worked full-time, as she and Tobio grew closer her parents started allowing her to accompany Tobio to volleyball practice more often than not, until eventually she was spending every day with the Kageyamas, weekends included. Those were the days her father would join as well, though he wasn't quite as good as they were at the sport.
"It's the trying that counts," Kazuyo-san had consoled him once. But Sora's father didn't need it. He was just happy seeing her happy.
Sora and Tobio liked to compete against each other. It didn't matter what at.
I bet I can skip stones more than you can. I bet I can count more birds. Once, at the behest of his wearied mother, I bet I can eat more green beans at dinner. It turned into a game. Who could come up with something the fastest? Whose ideas were the best? They never indulged in video games, though. Neither had an interest in those, and Sora didn't have the means. When Tobio was in second grade, he'd been confronted by a few classmates once the school day had concluded and they were waiting to be picked up.
"Hey, Tobio, is it true you don’t have any video games?" One of them had asked.
"Yeah…"
"Whoa! Not even a single one?"
"Not one."
"You're kidding! That's so lame!" The boy and his friends laughed, and Tobio scowled. Then a volleyball came streaking past him and struck the boy right in his face. It bounced back into Sora's waiting arms.
"Tobio, run!" she'd yelled, then grabbed his hand. They didn't stop until they rounded the corner and hid behind a parked car, the boy's wails echoing behind them.
"Will we get in trouble?" Tobio asked.
"No, school is over so it doesn't count." Sora said confidently. Unfortunately, her parents had not agreed with that logic.
They played other games, too, games against their own skill. Setting balls so they bounced against each other mid-air and came back to them, seeing who had the longest setting streak (Sora's high score was one thousand, two hundred and seven, nine more than Tobio's one thousand, one hundred and ninety-eight), competing over who had the best aim.
"Uh, Tobio, you know you're supposed to hit the bottles, right?" He glowered at her. His serve was more powerful, but when it came to precision hitting Sora had no equal.
The first time Tobio and Sora's parents met was at their joint birthday party. As it turned out, they'd been born on the same day, just one year apart. Kazuyo-san, Miwa, and Sora's father Akio had been the ones to organize it. Their parents got along well, but truth be told Sora and too busy with Tobio and Miwa to notice anything too deeply. They were smiling which meant they were happy, and that was enough for her.
She gave him her gift eagerly. Their birthday fell in winter, so under her mother's guidance she'd knitted him a scarf.
He gave her a volleyball.
The days passed quickly, turning to months then years. Sora grew taller first, something that frustrated Tobio to no end. Everyone around him - Kazuyo-san, Miwa, even his parents, told him that it was normal and he'd just have to suck it up until it was his turn for a growth spurt, and finally he decided he'd just have to compete using their usual metric: volleyball.
“I want to work on my digging, so hit the ball for me.” Sora frowned. She'd just washed her hands so she could braid Miwa's hair and now Tobio was letting her know she had to get them dirty again?
“You have to say please, Tobio.” Miwa scolded.
“Please.”
“No.” He pouted, and his expression made Sora feel so much like she was kicking a puppy that she relented even though Miwa was so pretty and her hair was so soft. Solely out of the goodness of her heart, and not because Tobio’s sister had already pulled out her phone and was talking to another person, Sora stood and pressed her fingers to his face trying to smooth out his expression (though this only succeeded in making him scrunch it up even harder).
“Fine,” she said, “but only because I want to practice hitting, too.”
“Yay.”
As they practiced, one of the ladies from the women’s team came over to collect a ball.
“You kids are playing nice, right?” she smiled.
“Of course!” Sora said brightly as she handed her the ball, receiving a pat on the head in return.
“What a cute pair you are.” Tobio waited until she was out of earshot before leaning over to whisper,
“You’re such a suck-up.”
“You’re just mad because everyone likes me better than you.” His face took on the color of a cherry blossom as he spluttered incoherently, searching for a retort.
“No, they don’t.” Sora didn’t respond immediately, instead preparing to send another ball his way.
“They do, but don’t worry about it. At least you have me, Tobio! I promise, I'll always like you the most. Well… second most, after Mama and Daddy. Actually, maybe third. Or fourth - "
"Just shut up."
Sora narrowed her eyes as Tobio returned the ball to her in a perfect arc yet again. He used to botch at least one out of every ten spikes she sent at full strength but now he was picking them up with ease. She couldn’t hit any harder than she was at the moment, but perhaps if she adjusted her aim a little...
“What are you doing? That was a terrible spike!” Tobio yelled. Though he was normally very polite, he and Sora had been friends as long as either of them could remember. The thought of holding back against each other was completely unintelligble.
“My spike was fine! You’re a bad receiver!” She yelled back.
“It was totally off!”
“I did that on purpose!” She could feel her anger ballooning in her chest as the argument escalated. Sora wasn’t afraid to admit when she made mistakes, but she absolutely hated it when people made assumptions about her.
“No, you didn’t,” Tobio insisted. “Just admit you suck, you liar.” Kazuyo, who had started making his way over when he heard the commotion, held his hands up placatingly.
“Whoa,” he said, “let’s calm down. Tobio, why are you calling Sora a liar?”
“Because she is one,” he said petulantly, “and she stinks at volleyball.” His grandfather turned to her.
“Sora?”
“He was receiving all my spikes, so I started hitting them differently. Then he got mad because he wasn’t getting them.” Kazuyo nodded.
“You know Tobio, in a real game of volleyball, your opponent won’t always hit the ball straight at you. They’ll aim for gaps in defense, and you’ll have to adjust in order to make sure it doesn’t touch the ground. Sora is just trying to help. You get me?” He ducked his head and Kazuyo had to hunch over to look him in the eye. “Toooobioooo?” He said in a sing-song voice.
“I got it,” he muttered, fighting off a smile. Kazuyo beamed.
Sora slipped out her borrowed kneepads and handed them back to Tobio before she made her father back away.
“Wee!” She swung her arms back and jumped all the way to the ground from the gymnasium door – five whole steps. “Was that cool, Dad?”
“It was very cool, Sora.” Tobio huffed.
“I can do it too. Watch!” He backed up from the doorway, narrowly avoiding his sister, before he ran and leapt down the stairs.
“You ran, so it doesn’t count.”
“Wha - ” Sora laughed at his expression and ran away before he could argue, only turning to wave once she reached the street.
“Bye-bye, Kazuyo-san! Bye-bye, Miwa-chan! Bye-bye, Tobio-chan! See you tomorrow!” Sora’s father smiled, waving along with his daughter as they walked down the street, watching the gymnasium lights slowly shrink into the distance.
“How was your day?” he asked. He held his hand up for her to swing from when they passed the stone wall that lined the road – she liked to jump up and touch the top whenever they passed by.
“Good!” she piped. “I had fun! What did you do today, Daddy?” Sora’s father often stayed late to clean and organize lessons.
“The sixth graders learned about sea animals today. Then – ” he stopped himself from continuing.
“What is it, Daddy?” He sighed.
“I’m sorry, Sora... I don’t really know if I should tell you. It makes me very sad. I don’t want to make you sad, too.”
“Tell me.” She tugged on his arm. “Teeeeell meeeeeeeee.” He shook his head.
“Alright, alright... during break, I decided to introduce the kids to volleyball since you like it so much. They took to it well, but the competition brought out a side of them I was very disappointed to see. There was a little boy, very sweet and energetic, who couldn’t play because no one let him on their team. Seeing him stand alone on the sidelines made me very sad.” Sora watched her father droop with shame.
“So they didn’t want to play with him because they wanted to win? Was he bad?” He winced.
“I don’t think so. He never got a chance to play. Forgive me, Sora, but sometimes people can behave very poorly for no reason at all. Remember that boy who made fun of Tobio-kun for not having video games?"
"I hit him."
"Yes, I know. That wasn't good, but I digress. Now, this boy who I'm talking about didn’t do anything wrong, but the other children seemed uncomfortable around him nonetheless. But of course,” he turned to her brightly, picking her up and swinging her around underneath a lamp post, “my darling Sora is the sweetest little angel alive! Not only that, but she’s amazing at volleyball too! If she were only a year older and in her Daddy’s class, she’d team up with the new kid and show the rest of the kids that sports aren’t about winning – they're about having fun with the people around you.” She giggled.
“Yeah. People who only have fun when they’re winning are losers.”
“Um... maybe not – ”
“It’s the most fun to play against good people, even when you lose.” He thought about it.
“Yes, sort of – ”
“Everyone else should get off the court.” He put her down.
“Is that what’s fun?” she looked up at him, confused.
“Yes. Playing is fun. Playing with good people is the best.”
“And if you lose to those good people?” Sora shrugged.
“I don’t care. I just want to play. Unless it’s against Tocchan, then I have to win.” He laughed, impressed by the amount of ferocity able to be contained in that tiny ten year-old-body. Nearly eleven, he reminded himself. His little girl was growing up so fast.
“I suppose that’s a good mindset to have overall. Winning isn’t everything, and all I want is for you to be happy. But still, you – ”
“Should play with everyone. It doesn’t matter who they are or how good they are. I get it! Tobio also played with me when I was bad. I’ll play with the new boy even if he’s bad.” He ruffled her hair.
“That’s my girl. How about next week, after school? You can bring Tobio-kun if you want. I’ll have a word with Tendo-kun's parents about helping acclimate him to the school environment.”
“Tendo?” Sora’s father held out his hand for her to take again.
“That’s his name. Tendo Satori.” Sora closed her eyes, absorbing the new information.
“...what’s a ‘environment’?”
“I’m home, my darlings!”
“Mama!” Sora tore down the hall to the front door and flung herself at her mother who laughed, holding her tightly so she didn’t fall.
“Sora!” she said, “My lovely daughter! How was your day? Did you learn a lot?”
“Yes!” she said. “Daddy’s teaching me about sharks! What did you learn at work?” Sora’s mother was a researcher working on the other side of town and often worked late, meaning Sora was normally asleep by the time she got home. But she always made sure to wake up early to cook breakfast and pack lunch, seeing off her family before she took the car to work.
“Oh, not much,” she said breezily. “Tell me more about these sharks Daddy taught you about.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing you don’t already know, Akari,” Her husband teased. He wrapped an arm around her and pressed a chaste kiss to her temple. He’d just taken Sora into his arms when her mother gasped.
“What’s this?” she cried, lifting up Sora’s hand to see a tiny scratch, barely noticeable even in the full light of the hallway. “Sora is injured! Quick, Akio, fetch the saline! And the Band-Aids!”
“Mama, it’s fine – ”
“You must have been in so much pain,” she lamented, ignoring her. From the kitchen cupboard, Sora’s father called,
“Which one is the saline again? These don’t have labels.”
“How could your father not have noticed? My poor baby, you are so brave.” She pressed a quick kiss to her daughter’s ‘injury’. “There, does that feel better?”
“Honey, did you move the Band-Aids? They were here last I checked.”
“Yes, Mama.” Sora’s father appeared a moment later with a full medical kit in his arms.
“Oh,” said Akari, “we don’t need that anymore, you can put it back. Sora, you were going to tell me about the sharks?”
“Satori? What a stupid name. Is he a monkey or something? Is he a yokai?” Sora bounced a volleyball off Tobio's head.
“Tocchan, if you’re going to be mean, I won’t bring you.” That was a lie. Sora had already committed to introducing Tobio to her father’s student by having him sign the card she made for him, delivered by her father. A week had passed and the day after tomorrow they'd be attending their school’s after-school volleyball club where Akio had asked Satori to meet them. She was eager to prove to her father that she was a good friend, but Tobio scowled.
“He’s a loser. Isn’t he older than us? Why do we have to help him out if he’s being bullied?”
“That’s mean. Besides, he’s only a year older than me. Two more than you. And maybe we’ll have a new volleyball friend? With Miwa-san and Kazuyo-san, that means we have five. Nearly a full team.” It was Tobio’s turn to hit her.
“What kind of team is that? Who would play us?”
“Lots of people,” Sora sniffed, “you and I are future star players of Japan’s national team, aren’t we? Even if Satori-kun ends up being bad, we should still be encouraging. Let’s make volleyball the most popular game in the world. Even more than baseball!” She snatched the ball from Tobio and held it up like a trophy.
“Why are we talking about this?” he asked suddenly. “Tomorrow’s your birthday but all you care about is some other boy.” Sora blinked.
“Tocchan!” She exclaimed. “Are you jealous?” He recoiled from her violently.
“That’s - ”
“Besides, what do you mean, ‘your’ birthday? Shouldn’t it be ‘our’ birthday? Ah, wait. Are you worried about your gift? Don’t worry, I didn’t forget. I’ve had it ready for ages. But what about you?” she leaned over him. “You totally got me a present, right?”
“Eh...”
“Oh, Sora-chan? You’re still here?” Kazuyo’s eyebrows lifted up. “Your father said he'd only be a little late today. He probably got delayed. We’re all heading out, so would you like to come back with us and wait at our home? Or we can wait with you.”
“Let’s go home!” Tobio exclaimed. “Can we stop at the convenience store on the way?”
“Let’s get ice cream,” Miwa said, leaning on the doorframe as she put on her shoes. “Sora-chan, what flavor do you like?”
“All of them.”
“I like strawberry.”
“Then I’ll get strawberry too.”
“I want milk. And yogurt.” Tobio said after a bit of thought. They both stared at him.
“Is this because of what I said before about getting taller than me?” Sora said at last.
“No,” he replied quickly. “I just – like milk.”
“What do you like about it?” Miwa asked, coming up behind him.
“Uh...”
“Alright!” Kazuyo clapped his hands. “Everybody ready? Line up for roll call! Miwa-chan! Tobio-chan! Sora-chan! Kazuyo-san! Check! We’re all here! Off we go, then! To the convenience store!” They marched down the street in single file.
“Ice cream!”
“Strawberry!”
“Milk!”
“Yay!” They said together. Sora made it into a little song.
“Ice cream, strawberry, milk, yay! Ice cream, strawberry, milk, yay! Ice cream, strawberry, milk, yay...!”
“What’s this? Sora-chan! Hello, dear.” Kageyama’s mother smiled at her, who was sitting at the kitchen table watching volleyball tapes on the TV. She and Tobio sat on the left and Kazuyo and Miwa on the right. “Isn’t it a bit late? Where are your parents?” Kazuyo got up to speak with her privately, leaving the kids alone. The television blared with the cheers of the crowd as one of the players on screen made a particularly close save.
“Where are your parents, Sora-chan?” Miwa asked. “Imanari-san normally picks you up much earlier, doesn’t he?”
“Are we having a sleepover?” Tobio asked hopefully. Normally when she came over they'd play volleyball, and when she left the Kageyamas would sit down together to watch games. Tobio would tell her all about them the next day. But if she spending the night they could watch tapes the whole time!
“Dunno.” said Sora. "Daddy said he had to pick up Mama first, but he should be here by now."
They heard the telephone ring down the hall and Kazuyo-san and his daughter, Tobio and Miwa's mother, went round the kitchen table to go collect it. Miwa turned down the volume of the match and they all listened in attentively.
“Hello, you’ve reached the Kageyama household, Kageyama Mizuki speaking – yes, I... mm-hm. Has something – ? Yes, she’s here.” There was a pause. When she spoke again, her voice trembled slightly. “I understand. We’ll be there right away.” Sora sat up as Kageyama’s mother came back into the room, followed by his grandfather.
"What's wrong?" Miwa asked, a note of concern creeping into her voice. Her mother ignored her.
“Sora, dear, would you mind coming with me? We need to go to the hospital. Father, would you please put Miwa and Tobio to bed?” Never mind that Miwa was a teenager and completely capable of going to bed herself. Tobio leapt off his chair.
“Hospital? Why? What’s wrong? Is someone hurt?”
“Bed, Tobio. Now.” Her voice took on a hard edge before she turned to Sora, speaking gently now. “Come on, dear.” She held out her hand. There was a sinking feeling in Sora's stomach. She looked back at the Kageyamas, not yet realizing that this would be the last time she stood in their house for many years, before she took Kageyama Mizuki’s hand and left.
Four years later...
“...we will now introduce the starting players for each team. From Okojo Junior High of Tokyo, we have No. 2, Arimachi Sayaka, No. 3, Fujioka Kaori, No. 5, Ejiri Shiho, No. 9, Shibamoto Teruko, No. 12, Matsunami Mieko, No. 16, Sano Yukina, and No. 7, the libero, Mitsumori Himari.
“And, representing Tottori Prefecture, we have Daisen Junior High. No. 1, Imanari Sora, No. 2, Shiino Yuri, No. 3, Ichigo Kizuna, No. 4, Sasagawa Korori, No. 5, Himeno Saori, and finally, No. 6, Shibasaki Ikuyo. Ladies and gentlemen, we hope that you will cheer on both teams with enthusiasm and respect.”
Up in the stands, the commentators provided some brief background information for each of the teams.
“Okojo is a reputable school, attracting talent from all over Tokyo. Many of their graduates go on to compete for elite high schools such as Itachiyama and Wakana. This will be the third time in three years they represent the Tokyo Metropolis, so this is nothing new to them. In contrast, this is Daisen's first ever appearance, and not much is known about them.”
“I don’t believe there is much to know in the first place,” The second commentator said, not unkindly. “Daisen’s volleyball team is relatively new compared to many of the other schools competing today, though it is made up entirely of third years. In addition to this, it’s also the smallest, lacking both reserve players and a libero. Frankly, I’m surprised they managed to make it this far.”
“If anything, that makes them even more impressive,” their partner reminded them. “I’m excited to see what Daisen has in store for us, that they think they can go toe-to-toe against teams like Okojo Junior with only six players on their roster. First up, Sano-san of Okojo Junior with the serve.”
Sora clenched her fists as she watched the other team’s number 16 back up to serve. It looked as though she were about to attempt a spike serve – yes, there it was. She launched the ball over the net in a beautiful, clear arc, straight into Sora’s waiting arms.
“That was a strong serve from Okojo and an equally good receive by Daisen’s captain, Imanari-san. Unfortunately, she is the team’s setter, so Daisen do have limited options in terms of attacks. Looks like their middle blocker, No. 5, Himeno-san, is getting in position to send it to – oh, Imanari-san! Daisen’s No. 1 beautifully threads a spike through the gap between Okojo’s blockers and the pin, and it looks like it’s in. First point of the match goes to Daisen Junior High.”
“...and that’s the third point of the game, third to Daisen, and third scored by their captain Imanari Sora!”
“Who is also in third year!” The commentators shared a grin. “Daisen is shaping up to be something of a dark horse contender, wouldn’t you say, Hiroshi-san?”
“I don’t know about that,” the other commentator replied as No. 4, Korori, sent the ball into the net. “Okojo Junior is known to be a bit of a slow starter but Daisen just gave them the serve. It’s also important not to discount the possibility that these first few points were all flukes. Let’s see how Daisen handles serves from Fujioka-san, Okojo's ace and one of the tournament's few left-handed players, before we cast judgement.”
Sora shuffled backwards as Okojo’s No. 3 caught the ball, keeping track of the time it took for her to serve.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four -
“I’m bored. This is boring.” Sora sighed to herself. Korori had a bad habit of talking during games, typically triggering a chain reaction which would break the team’s concentration during tense moments. Right on cue, Kizuna turned to glare at her.
“Be quiet, Korori. The other team is about to – ” Sora, distracted by their bickering, was a second too late watching Okojo. Fujioka’s ball caught the net but tumbled over to their side and she had to throw herself forward in order to keep the ball off the floor.
“Kizuna!” she yelled as she picked herself up.
“Got it!” Sora was too close to the net for a full run up and Kizuna’s set was slightly too high for a regular spike, but Okojo’s blockers were slow getting to her. Sora’s hand barely brushed the ball, tipping it over their outstretched hands.
“And Daisen recovers from a messy receive with an equally sloppy but nonetheless effective play in which the wing spiker set the ball for the setter.” The other commentator laughed.
“What an interesting tactic.”
In the crowd, a couple of high school students were watching the match play out.
“Wait, what happened?” One of them asked her friend. “Why didn’t they block that?” They leaned over the railing, trying to get a better look at the players.
“From what I could tell, the blockers discarded the possibility of an attack coming from Daisen’s No. 1 because she dove to get the ball. Normally when players are forced to do that, they’re slow to recover, and so the focus was on the left side of the court where No. 4 and No. 5 were approaching. They underestimated the amount of time it would take for Daisen’s captain to get back into position, not that I can blame them.”
Down on the court, the Daisen Junior High volleyball team wasn’t done arguing.
“You can’t just distract everyone right when the other team is about to send the ball over! Don’t think we all missed your botched serve, it’s just that everyone else on this team knows to keep quiet during a match. Unlike you.”
“Why are you complaining so much? We got the point. And Sora-chan hasn’t said anything so it’s fine, right?” Kizuna and Korori turned to their captain at the same time.
“As long as we’re all having fun, it’s fine,” she said. Kizuna took this as permission to wheel around to Korori and continue her reprimand.
“Well, I’m not having fun listening to you yap all the time, so it’s not fine. And another thing...” she tuned them out, something she and the rest of her friends were used to doing. Truthfully, Sora didn’t have that much of a problem with Korori speaking during games. It was her arguing with Kizuna which really grated on Sora’s nerves.
They rotated, having taken the ball, and she stepped up to serve.
“It might be a bit boring for you guys for now.” she warned.
“It’s fine, I like it when you serve,” Saori said easily. The whistle blew, and Sora tossed the ball into the air. “It means we get a break.”
Sora’s serve shot straight over the net, whizzing past Okojo’s libero to land neatly in the corner of the court.
“Impressive,” Hiroshi remarked as their libero apologized. “Imanari of Daisen sent the game’s first no-touch service ace directly into the corner of the court. Even if it wasn’t on purpose, that was satisfying to watch.” Their coworker nodded.
“The score is now 5-1 to Daisen, and Okojo must be starting to feel the pressure. Especially since that serve went right past their libero, third year Mistumori Himari.”
“Let’s see if it was a fluke, or if Daisen’s captain simply has that amount of control over the ball.”
“Tamayama-san, are you seeing this?”
“I think I am, Hiroshi. Imanari-san of Daisen Junior High just pulled off yet another service ace, bringing the score to 9 – 1. This must be a record. Her control of the ball is simply...” he trailed off, lost for words. Hiroshi cleared his throat and took over.
Down on the court, Sora was drumming her fingers against the ball as she thought about where to send it next. The left corner? No, their libero was waiting there. They had a wing spiker covering the right corner, and another player standing right on the back line. Their front was covered as well, after she’d used the net to drop one right in the middle of the court. The whistle blew.
Oh, well. She thought to herself. She’d been getting bored anyway.
“Looks like Okojo was able to receive Imanari-san's sixth serve with little trouble. And here they are, gearing up for their first proper attack of the day. Shiino-san and Himeno-san get their arms up but it's sloppy and Fujioka-san sends it flying outside the court...” Hiroshi squinted. “No. 4, Sasagawa Korori, receives it with her foot but it goes straight up, forcing Imanari-san to hustle to get the ball. She gives it to No. 2, Shibasaki-san, who’s denied by the blockers.”
“You know, I’d almost forgotten she was the setter. Up until now, she’s been doing most of the point getting, with her teammates taking turns putting up the ball. It’s an odd strategy, wouldn’t you say, Hiroshi-san?” Tamayama turned. Hiroshi had his eyes on the match, studying each player carefully. “Hiroshi-san?”
“In volleyball, there are six players on each side of the court. Each member is crucial and no one is more important than any other. But with Daisen...” Tamayama thought about it.
“I suppose the team is leaning on their captain a bit more than most others would, but it might just seem like she's the only one scoring because of her serving. As the match goes on, I’m sure that will change.”
However as the game continued, Daisen continued to rely on their setter to do everything but set. And block.
“Hey, Sayaka. Is it just me, or does Daisen’s blocking... kinda suck?” Kaori wiped away the sweat on her brow as she watched the points on their scoreboard tick up. It was now 21 – 17, to Daisen.
“They seem inexperienced,” her captain agreed. “They fall for feints pretty often. No. 1 is doing her best to take advantage of their natural abilities, but she can’t help them with everything. Her teammates can barely serve, make simple mistakes and there’s only one half-decent receiver besides her.” she frowned.
“Which one is that again?”
“No. 4. She has great footwork which lets her get under the ball most of the time, mostly with her feet. She’s still terrible, but compared to their other teammates she can at least get the ball up. That’s all they really need. She seems like the best player after No. 1.”
“They’ve all got pretty good reflexes, though. No. 3 and 6 have nice movements and No. 2 can really jump.” She caught the eye of the other middle blocker, No. 2, Shiino Yuri, who made a face. “Hmph.”
“And Daisen takes the first set, 25 – 23. A string of well-placed serves by team captain Imanari Sora put Okojo on the back foot early on, preventing them from showcasing the full extent of their offensive power. Let’s see if they can come back from this during the second set.”
“I’m tired.” Korori clapped Ikuyo on the back, laughing. The five of them stood in a circle around the bench with only Sora taking a seat. She picked up her bottle and wiped the nozzle with a handkerchief but didn’t drink.
“Aw, c’mon. You haven’t even done much yet except look pretty, Iku-iku-chan.”
“Like you can talk,” Yuri sniped. “I’m the only one doing any blocking. Can the rest of you at least try?” This she directed to Saori, the other middle blocker. Their ‘coach’ was just a teacher from their school who’d liked the sound of taking a couple days’ break from teaching and sat back without interfering. He'd spent most of the match on their phone anyway.
“Sorry we’re not gymnastics superstars like you, but not everyone likes swinging around on a bunch of thin metal bars eight feet off the ground like a monkey.”
“What’s that got to do with volleyball? Just follow the hitter and jump, it’s not hard.”
“You...” Saori started but quickly shut up when Sora stood. She put down her bottle, still full, and asked quietly,
“Are you guys having fun?” Her friends exchanged puzzled looks.
“Of course we’re having fun!” Korori exclaimed. “Volleyball is great! It’s almost as good as soccer!”
“I like watching you,” Ikuyo added lightly. Kizuna nodded along with the others but added,
“Your blocking is pathetic though. Please stop trying.” Sora smiled as the referee gestured for them to get back on the court.
“...as Okojo gets yet another ball past Daisen's blockers, the score – ah! Imanari-san barely manages to get it up in the air and No. 3, Ichigo-san gets under it with an impressive show of core strength. Imanari-san spikes but the blockers have her marked by now and – oh! She goes for a tip! Mistumori slides underneath but it looks like it’ll go over the net – and Imanari sends it right back down! Point to Daisen! The score is now 5 – 6!”
Sora watched No. 3 as she stepped up to serve again. Watched as she spun the ball. Watched as it came rocketing towards their side of the court. Her feet moved on instinct. The only sound was the squeaking of shoes against the gymnasium floor, the only smell leather and floor polish. She breathed it in, watching the ball fly up again. The lights were so bright. Blinding. Kizuna sent her the ball and she tensed right before she left the floor, putting all her weight into the balls of her feet. Her arm swung in a circular motion, transferring all the power from her jump into her spike. The blockers’ hands crept into her vision, blocking her view of the other side of the court. Fine, then. Who cared if they got in her way? She’d just find another path around.
“Stuffed! Okojo Junior finally manages to block one of Imanari-san’s spikes halfway through the second set, but the ball lands out of bounds giving them the point. Daisen pulls ahead, with the score sitting at 19 – 18.”
Fweeeep!
“Looks like Okojo’s coach is calling for a timeout. With Daisen about to reach the twenties, they must want to stop Imanari-san's momentum before the gap gets too big or, worse, risk her ending the match with her monstrous serves.”
Okojo’s coach faced her team with her hands on her hips.
“Alright, I’ll admit that things could be better out there. But we’ve faced tough opponents before! Opponents who could serve and spike just as well as – um.” She stopped when she saw her trainees’ faces. “Well, they could block and receive much better than them, so, all things considered – we've overcome worse odds! We just need to keep their No. 1 from getting too many service aces on us – she's got great speed and aim, but once you get under them they’re not hard to bump, right, Mitsumori?” Their libero nodded. “That’s what’s holding us back. Once we get the ball in play, that's when we can start fighting back. Their defense is practically non-existent, so try to target everyone but No. 1 and No. 4 with your spikes and serves. Most importantly, make their captain move. She spent most of the first set running around, so even if she’s not showing it she must be getting tired. Run her ragged, so she won’t even be able to stand during the third set. Got it?”
“Yes, coach!” Her team chorused. Okojo’s coach cast her gaze over to Daisen’s No. 1, surrounded by her teammates. She was good. Great, even. But volleyball was a team sport. Trying to do everything by herself – that would be the reason why Daisen lost.
Over on the other side of the court, there was a very different conversation going on.
“I don’t want to watch Doraemon when we get back,” Saori said. "Let’s check out that new nature documentary, the one about oceans and marine life with David Attenborough.”
“Watch it on your phone.”
“But the cinematography can only be properly appreciated on a large screen!”
“What do you mean, cinematography? We all know you just want to watch it because you’re in love with the narrator.”
“I am not in love, I just like his voice. What’s so special about Doraemon anyway? It’s only a kid’s cartoon – ” Korori grabbed her collar, bringing them nose to nose.
“Doraemon is an audio-visual masterpiece with simple yet profound themes of friendship, adventure and perseverance that can be appreciated by people of all ages! Don’t you dare look down on it!” Saori grabbed her hand.
“Let’s bring it to a vote! Who wants to watch Doraemon?” Korori jutted her hand in the air. Ikuyo, too, raised her hand.
“It’s cute,” she said plainly. Saori and Kizuna both voted for the documentary, making it a tie.
“It doesn’t matter to me either way,” Yuri sniffed, “while you guys are slacking off, Sora-chan and I will be training. Right, Sora-chan?” she nodded.
“There are facilities set aside for players to practice during the tournament if they want. We’ll stay out and join you guys for dinner a bit later, so make sure you decide what you want to eat before that.”
Sora ran her fingers over the ball's smooth leather, pressing down to make indents in the cushioning. Her eyes darted around the other team’s side of the court, looking for gaps. Where are the weakest receivers? Where are the empty spaces? Where can you put the ball so that you can keep playing, even if it’s just a second longer?
The whistle blew and she closed her eyes, envisioning the serve before she tossed up the ball and jumped.
“And now with the score tied at 24 – 24 we enter the most grueling part of the game, when both teams have to fight to wrench points out of the other’s hands. Will Okojo be able to halt Daisen in their tracks, or will Daisen steal the match in straight sets? The momentum that will carry the victors to triumph crests at this very point of the game. The players must really be feeling the heat. I’d hate to be in their shoes right now...”
“Let’s get sushi. I want some fatty tuna.”
“Right now?” Kizuna gaped. On the other end of the court, Okojo was preparing to serve.
“No, Kizuna. After the match. Obviously.” Sora had to hold her back from strangling Korori where she stood.
“I meant why are you bringing this up now? We can decide what to eat after the game, so would you please focus for once?”
“It’s better to get it out of the way, though – ”
“Here it comes!” Yuri warned. Fujioka sent the ball sailing towards her and she managed a receive, but it flew back over the net.
“Chance!” Their captain yelled. Sora tensed, going over the principles of blocking inside her head. Timing was the most important thing. The ideal block reached its peak just as the spiker swung their arm forward, so she should jump slightly after them. However, when they went to spike, their arms connected with nothing but air. As Sora fell, she watched Fujioka come up behind her teammate to slam the ball home to take the lead. The whistle blew and the referee signaled to Okojo’s side of the court. Sora watched their score tick upward before she turned her head to her own team.
“Hey, guys?” Her friends did a poor job hiding their surprise. Not only was it unusual for Sora to speak first during a match, her expression... “That was so cool.”
“What?”
“That thing where Fujioka-san came up behind. Wasn’t it great? I really couldn’t do anything. Hey, guys... I want to try that.” Her dark eyes shone with anticipation. “Let’s rotate quickly so I can get in the back row. Kizuna, it’ll be your job to set. Ikuyo, can you pretend to jump and hit the ball? It’ll be easy. The rest of you, too, actually... let’s hit them with everyone all at once, so they won’t know whose it is.” Kizuna raised her chin so she could look down her nose at Sora.
“Yes, they will,” she said. “If you’re not setting, then you’re spiking. Besides, the rest of us aren’t volleyball junkies like you, so how do you expect us to pull off something like this on the fly?” Ikuyo placed a hand on Sora’s shoulder.
“If you want to do it that badly, then let’s run through it after this match and play it tomorrow.” Sora gave her an odd look.
“But, Ikuyo-chan,” she said, “where’s the fun in that?”
“What’s this?” Hiroshi leaned into the table, straining to see. “Daisen’s players are backing up... looks like they’re all approaching at the same time to throw off Okojo’s blockers! Imanari-san hides behind her teammates as they jump, obscuring Okojo’s view, but it’s obvious what the real threat is. Nevertheless, Imanari-san cleverly deflects the ball off the blockers’ fingertips sending it flying out of bounds.
“It’s kept in play by Okojo’s libero Mitsumori, who returns the ball in a nice, high arc. Fujioka-san goes for a quick set – unusual for a wing spiker, but effective. The score is now 25 – 26.”
“Not to be outdone, Daisen’s captain strikes with another pinpoint accurate spike, hitting the ball right on the line. The score has now evened up once more.” This back and forth continued until both teams passed the thirty point mark, with Daisen at set and match point. Sora beckoned her friends over and leaned in.
“Let’s try this one more time.”
Kaori cursed when she saw Daisen’s No. 1 slide behind the other members of her team.
“They’re seriously trying this again?” she growled.
“Don’t lose your cool,” her captain warned. “And keep your eyes on No. – ” Saori swung her arm forward in a wild motion, slapping the ball into the ground before Okojo’s blockers could react. Their libero dove forward but just missed, slamming her fist into the ground as the whistle blew signaling the end of the game. Daisen’s No. 6 turned with her fists in the air as her teammates embraced her (apart from their captain, who stood by with a small smile on her face). Strangely, she was the least enthusiastic over their victory.
Game Over!
Set Count: 2-0 (25-23, 32-30)
Winner: Daisen Junior High School
“I want to play more with you.” Sayaka squinted at Daisen’s captain. “Your team is good. I had fun. Let’s play again.”
“You’re kidding, right?” she said. “We’re out of the tournament. The team isn’t staying together next year, either. I’m going to high school.”
“So am I. Let’s play each other in high school.” Sora said. “If you get better, that is.” She’d been trying to be a gracious loser up until then, but at that statement her jaw dropped and Ikuyo, who was standing nearby and overheard their conversation, quickly grabbed her hand and apologized while ushering her friend away. Kaori, who had only overheard the last part, turned to her captain and they shared a look of utter disbelief. She glared at Sora and continued to do so during cool down stretches, and while she gave a post-game interview, all the way until they disappeared into the changing rooms.
“I hate her.” Kaori said.
“Who? Daisen’s captain?” Sayaka raised her brows at the boy who’d spoken. He was accompanied by another boy wearing the male version of their uniform.
“Oh, Komori-kun, Sakusa-kun,” she said. “Were you watching?” Komori smiled.
“Of course. We go to the same school, so we had to cheer you on.” Sakusa looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else, but he didn’t argue.
“It’s crowded here, so let’s move into the hallway.” Sayaka leaned against the wall as the rest of her team took their time packing up.
“Her recovery rate was insane,” she said. “So was her stamina. She spent the whole match jumping around, but she was barely even sweating.”
“You didn’t play that long.” Komori point out. Sayaka let out a humorless laugh.
“I guess you’re right about that. My last volleyball tournament of junior high, and we’re knocked out in our first game.” Kaori muttered something that sounded like ‘don’t even play volleyball’ under her breath. Komori patted her shoulder.
“There’s nothing you can do about it now, so don’t do your head in thinking about the what ifs. Sakusa knows a thing or two about that, don’t you?” he jerked his head to his cousin. “Remember when we went up against Shiratorizawa?”
“With the crazy southpaw ace. Yeah.”
“Sakusa couldn’t dig a single one of his serves or spikes. But he’s been practicing a lot since then so that when we face him again in high school, we’ll be the ones who come out on top.” Sayaka laughed.
“Wow, so dramatic! I’ll return the favor and cheer for you, then. Which school were you two thinking of again? Itachiyama?” Komori nodded.
“Yeah. But first, we’ll win today. Right, Sakusa? Sakusa?” his cousin tended to ignore the people around him on a good day, but he wasn’t even trying to look like he was paying attention. He kept looking around with his eyes lingering on the entrances like he was waiting for something. Or someone.
“You aren’t here for us, are you.” Kaori said flatly. It wasn’t an accusation, just a statement. Komori scratched the back of his head sheepishly.
“Ah... you caught us. Sakusa wanted to speak to Daisen’s No. 1, so...” Sayaka raised a brow.
“So you were going to follow her to the changing rooms like a couple of perverts?” Sakusa avoided her gaze, suddenly developing a keen interest in the exit sign. “You like her or something?” He snapped his gaze toward her and said coldly,
“I don’t. I hate careless people.” Komori cocked his head.
“What was careless about Imanari-san?”
“She had her team replicate the synchronized attack despite their clear skill deficiency, resulting in them losing a point.”
“But it all worked out, right? They won.” Sakusa scowled. At least, Komori assumed he did – he couldn’t really tell under the mask. “Fine. If you hate her so much, then why do you want to talk to her?”
“It’s normal to question people you’re curious about. She was able to pick up Fujioka-san's left-handed spike the first time she encountered it, so I wanted to know what she does to train.”
“A country bumpkin like her?” Kaori huffed. “She was from Tottori, right? Her training is probably, like, running around a dirt field or something.”
“Maybe she ran up and down the sand dunes,” Mitsumori joked, rooting around her bag for a comb. The door next to them swung open and out stepped Sora, followed by the rest of the Daisen team. They had changed into casual wear and gave no indication that they had overheard the Okojo players’ conversation.
“Finally,” one of them said. Kaori couldn’t remember her number, but she knew she hated her. “How long does it take to change into a pair of pants?”
“We’d’ve been out quicker if Sora didn’t insist on treating her gear like they’re holy objects. Our uniform doesn’t even wrinkle, so what’s the point in folding them?”
“Right? Sora-chan, you hear that?” Daisen’s captain gave them a look Kaori couldn’t quite decipher, but the rest of her team strolled past as though Okojo wasn’t even there.
“...God, I hate them.”
“They’re the WORST.”
“Hot, though.”
“Still the worst!”
“I think I heard one of them humming the Doraemon theme song?”
Komori turned to his cousin incredulously.
“Hey, why didn’t you say something?” Sakusa didn’t answer, staring, dazed, after Daisen’s captain who turned the corner and disappeared from sight.