V1C3 Part4

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4. CHILD OF VOLLEYBALLPrevious || Index || Next

In the week before the ballgame tournament, practice for the

tournament took priority over after school club activities. On Monday after

school, it was the first day of team practice for Team F.

“I’m

not the manager for the boys’ volleyball team. I’m just here to help out.”

“It’s totally fine! We have twenty-four people and only one

manager currently. How many does boys’ volleyball have? Huh, eight? So little.

One per twenty-four people and one per eight, don’t you think that’s a weird

ratio? We’re going to need three managers, you know? That’s why, please be our

manager.”

“Look…you haven’t listened what I said at all, have you. I

don’t know how you think that logic is going to convince me.”

When he went to the gym, he immediately came across a scene

of a row of four muscular boys were sitting on their heels and making

supplications to one girl. The girl they were supplicating to was the

second-year Suemori, who came as a helper from the girls’ volleyball team.

For today’s practice, it was arranged that the two teams

would each use one half of the court. The teams were Oda’s Team F and Team

B, which had the corps from the aforementioned rugby team. The rugby team was

the third great power among the boys’ sports clubs in the school after the

soccer and baseball teams, but because rugby wasn’t included in the events of

the school’s ballgame tournament, they appeared to have discovered their raison

d’etre in the ballgame tournament by dispatching members to each event and

having them run wild. As if to tout their club, all four of them were wearing

those characteristic horizontally-striped shirts, and the pattern made their

upper bodies look even squarer and burlier. I’m pretty sure the temperature

in the gym went up one or two degrees because of those four… Though it was

already the season of high humidity, it really was sweltering in there.

“This

isn’t the time for scouting. Scram.”

Oda raised his voice and cut in front of Suemori.

“Suemori is our important charge from girls’ volleyball. If

anything happens to her while she’s with us, I’ll get throttled by them. If you

wanna poach her, talk it over with the girls’ volleyball captain.”

“Aaah? What’s your problem?”

One person among the four talked back in a boorish voice. His

height approached Aoki’s when he stood, and unlike Aoki, he had a width and

thickness, so his weight was completely different. He felt a feeling of

oppression like he was being crushed just from standing in front of him.

This man was a second-year from the rugby club, Okuma.

“This ain’t the place for a first-year runt to show up. Get

outta here.”

The moment he said that, his temple started convulsing, but

it would never end if he flared up at every single thing.

“I’m the captain for boys’ volleyball, Oda from 3-F. I’m in

charge today.”

“Heh? A third-year? You serious?”

Okuma’s eyes widened, and he confirmed with Suemori over

Oda’s head instead of with Oda himself. Standing in a position to protect

Suemori, she was taller than him. Oda’s existence was no obstacle for Okuma.

When

they were convinced that he was really an upperclassman, Okuma and the other

three changed their attitude more or less, and they followed his orders without

disturbing the progress. First, the two teams took the time for a joint

orientation. There were three to five students from each grade per team. There

would be no more than twenty-five people in two teams. Three times the usual

number of eyes during regular club practice watched him and listened to him seriously.

He was a little nervous and cleared his throat several times.

He didn’t see Haijima there. He wondered if the positions

were assigned just for the sake of adjusting the numbers. If that was the case,

then excepting Suemori who was a girl, Oda was the only one who had volleyball

experience between these two teams.

In the volleyball division of the ballgame tournament, all

six teams would be divided into two groups of three teams, and after a

round-robin competition within the group, the first-place team in each group

would play the deciding round. The group league had a total of six games, and

adding the deciding round, that would make a total of seven games. The regular

rule was to get twenty-five points first, but they eased that so that it was

now a three-set match where the team that got fifteen points first won.

Although, if they were to pull off seven games without a hitch, it was going to

be a dizzying day for them on the management side.

“I’m sure we’ve all did it before in gym, so you’re alright

with the basics, right? The rotations might feel complicated, but well, don’t

take fouls down to the smallest detail, just three people in the front row and

three in the back, and make sure to serve in the right order. Once you got it,

you’ll be divided into teams to practice. I’m in Team F, and Suemori’s in B, so

take a look. If there’s anything, call us immediately.”

“Hey, Captain!” Okuma raised his hand when he was about to

tell them to split up.

“I’m

not your captain, but…what?”

“It’s boring to practice separately. B and F should play a

game. I think that’ll help us learn the flow of the game better.”

“A sudden game?”

Is he the type who loves playing games but hates

practice? Oda didn’t like people who neglected basic practice. He frowned

and said, “You can play games on the day of the tournament. Why do I have to

teach your team our plays?”

“You don’t mind showing just a little, do you? Don’t tell me

you’re gonna lose to a bunch of rookies like us? You can jump about two meters,

right Captain? If you can’t do that much, then we’d be able to knock you down

without jumping.”

I thought he’d become obedient, but he was thinking about

things like that…I’m not going to be taken in by such a cheap provocation. I

should just ignore it and move to practice as planned. He was thinking

that, but he couldn’t help but feel a boiling feeling at the pit of his

stomach. No, Aoki’s not here today, so I have to be the one to keep calm.

“Senpai, let’s do it. Why don’t we just do one set?”

Right when he was working hard to restrain himself, he was

unexpectedly spurred on. He turned around in surprise and Suemori was standing

firm with an expression that was even more indignant than Oda’s.

“Suemori-san, you sure are brave. I want you to be our

manager more and more.”

Suemori

gave a sharp glare at a grinning Okuma before whispering into Oda’s ear. “Oda-senpai,

aren’t you angry? I can’t stand it. Making fun of volleyball…Let’s break his

nose.”

“No, even if you say that…”

“If you don’t have confidence in yourself, then I’ll join.”

Suemori started taking off her jersey on the spot, so he

immediately stopped her with “Wait. It’s better for me to play than you.”

His voice was a grade lower, becoming insecure. Suemori’s

face immediately reddened and she looked down, saying “No…sorry.” I might have

said it too harshly. But, more than being made fun of by an amateur like Okuma,

my pride was hurt by the fact that I was even looked down on by someone from

girls’ volleyball.

He did have confidence. He wasn’t about to be beaten by an

amateur who was just huge. He honestly even agreed with the idea of knocking

him down a peg. However, it would be a problem if a girl was put in and got

injured. Although Okuma was an amateur at volleyball, he was an athlete who did

ball sports, and there was an insurmountable wall between men and women in the

power of the ball.

But, it was true that there wasn’t even anyone who could set

by themselves. If there was just one more person with experience in Team F…

…We do.

The

figure entered the corner of his field of vision as though it was timed. They

were standing at the entrance to the gym with a suspicious face, perhaps

feeling that there was something off—Haijima.

“Suemori…can you go get Kanno?”

“Huh?”

A

dispirited Suemori raised her head and blinked.

The reason he called Kanno was trivial, he just wanted him

to be the referee. Suemori was in charge of displaying the points. It would

only be one set where the first to get fifteen points won. If he considered

this a sideshow, then this would be a good amount of time to devote to it.

He looked at Haijima, who was doing some light stretching in

front of the net. Anyways, it was a piece of good luck that he was able to pull

him up to the court before he could say anything…he might have to thank Okuma

for that.

There were many people present in their gym jerseys, but

Haijima’s equipment gave him a different vibe from the amateurs. He wore long

underpants that reached his ankles beneath black shorts, short socks, and

volleyball shoes that looked worn in. That Mizuno was the same model as

Kuroba’s. And the taping that was tightly wrapped around the fingers of both

his hands gave off an aura of something different.

When

he thought that he had a different impression of his face than when he saw him

in the school building, it was due to the presence of his glasses.

I see, so

he switches to contacts when he’s playing.

When he was in his school

uniform and wearing his glasses, he had the impression of a moody, literary-type

of boy, but now suddenly he seemed like an athlete. There were also sports

glasses, but sports glasses for volleyball inevitably took the shape of goggles

due to the nature of the sport, and perhaps because it narrowed the field of

vision and honestly didn’t look good, but Oda had never seen a high schooler

use them.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t had much good will towards Haijima

after the April incident. It wasn’t that he hated him, but he was completely in

the category of people he didn’t like dealing with. It was creepy that he

couldn’t read what he was thinking about at all, even now. A simply neutral

expression with no enthusiasm or nervousness. I wonder what kind of play

would actually be created by standing on the same court as this guy. Oda

was the one who was made considerably more nervous.

However, on the other hand, he also felt excitement. ——He was

looking forward to it.

“Then, the person doing the serve receive should try to

return it to Haijima as much as possible. That’s our setter, Haijima.”

The other four people on the court are have some experience

from gym class. He decided to try using them all first while alternating them.

“Haijima, are you fine with being the setter? Are you up for

it? You haven’t done it for a while.”

Haijima, who was relaxing his shoulders, gave him a sideways

glance and looked offended.

“What’s your highest jump reach height?”

He was

suddenly asked a straight-to-the-point question. Without asking about the circumstances

that led to this match, without saying a word of greeting like “Sorry I’m late”

or “I’ll be in your care,” that was the first thing out of his mouth after he

came here.

“For spikes, these days it’s 315.”

“You can jump for someone of your height.”

Haijima said and narrowed his eyes. It was a completely

disparaging tone, but wait, was I praised just now? I feel like asking someone

to interpret for me.

The height he could reach after doing a run-up and jumping

was the highest point for a spike jump. In Oda’s case, his finger height (the

height he could reach with his hand while standing) was 215 centimeters, so his

spike jump was up to one meter. The two meters Okuma instigated with was of

course an impossible figure—the height for a male high school volleyball player

would be from around 70 to 90 centimeters. He thought that one meter

was a figure to be considerably proud of.

From the start, Team B had three rugby team members in the

three front row positions. He wasn’t sure if they were thinking up their own

strategy where they were going to knock down the first of their attacks with a

block and kill their momentum.

Kanno, who found himself in the role of chief referee, blew

the whistle, and the game started with Team B’s serve. Since the server was an

amateur, it was a simple underhand serve. However, because their receivers were

also amateurs, it was difficult for them to cleanly return it to the setter,

and the ball was greatly repelled.

Oda was about to jump out to cover for them, but…

…What!?

Haijima

was already underneath the ball. So fast!? He didn’t just move fast. His

reading of the ball’s course was fast as well. While in an overhand stance, his

eyes swiftly scanned the entire court and he signalled Oda with his eyes for a

moment. Oda, who had unintentionally stopped in his tracks, quickly rushed to

the front of the net. A set was released from Haijima’s fingers with much

faster timing that he expected. He was sure he didn’t make such a fast set when

he saw him at the prefecturals. It was a confident set from a distance where

normally a safe four set would be the only way to go.

So fast—no, rather

than fast, what’s with that trajectory!?

He managed to reach up in the midair and hit it with his

hand. He didn’t exactly hit the ball squarely, but the three blockers that

marked Oda didn’t keep up with him at all.

The ball fell to Team B’s court over the head of the blocker

who only jumped halfway. Oda himself felt like he was bewitched, and he landed

with the pit of his stomach feeling somewhat weightless.

The view was wonderful. He could see the opposing court,

which was usually always blocked by a wall, well. It wasn’t every day he got

the chance to spike over the head of a tall blocker, so he had completely

forgotten—was going over a block this exhilarating? He felt ticklish on the

inside. He felt good…

With a backwards glance at the astonished opposing team, Oda

ran up to Haijima.

“Oi, what’s with that set?”

Even

so, it was a complaint that came out of his mouth first. He had just barely

kept up, but it wouldn’t be strange if he had struck and missed.

“I can’t hit anything if you just set it without warning.”

“That one just now was lower than 315. As expected, I’m

rusty from not playing for a while. My perception is dull.”

Haijima said, tilting

his head to the side as though he wasn’t satisfied. He was going to make me

hit it at three-one-five because I said that was the highest point I could

jump? Is he a demon?

“It’s the same with the height, but it’s more a problem of

timing. There’s no way I can hit the ball at that tempo if I don’t have anything

to match.”

The basic set was called an open set, and the attacker must

time the ball as it rose high and fell in a parabolic path and hit it. A spike

that is hit at the slowest timing was called a third tempo.

Even so, Haijima’s set was a set that made the attacker hit the

ball at the peak of the parabola. As a result, the trajectory towards the

hitting point was short, in other words, “fast.” From the point of view of an

attacker, it looked like it was flying “directly” at them. The attacker was pulling

off the transcendental thing of smashing in the top of the set at the moment

they swung at the highest point, but there were many demands on the attacker’s

part as well. What kind of nerve did this guy have to set something like

that to someone he’s matching with for the first time?

Haijima looked away from Oda, who was snapping at him, and looked

as though he had lost interest in something.

“Kuroba

can hit it.”

I see, I couldn’t see that high-speed setting at the

middle school prefecturals because Kuroba wasn’t there?—His competitiveness

was slowly rearing its head. Do you expect me to keep quiet when I’m told

that me, a third-year, can’t hit what a first-year can? I know he can evade

high blocks at that speed. If he could make that hitting position and speed

into a thing…

“…It’s fine. Don’t change what you’re doing. I’ll match you with

all I got next time.”

Haijima blinked, and then let out a short breath and

squinted his eyes. …He laughed? Maybe?

“Senpai, it’s your team’s serve. You’ll be taking a delay penalty.”

Kanno called out to him in a mild voice. The rotation turned

once, and then it was Haijima’s serve.

“You don’t need to match me. I’ll be the one matching you.

You seem like you still have a lot more in you, so could you please give

a little more? You can go up to about 320, right?”

Calmly

leaving that extremely brazen and shameless statement, Haijima turned on his

heel and walked to the service zone.

His

initial goal of breaking Okuma’s competitive spirit was blown out of his mind.

He wanted to get Haijima to acknowledge him. That was all he could think about

starting from midway through the match. He was so absorbed in it that he even

forgot that this was practice for the ballgame tournament and was very ashamed

to find out later that Kanno and Suemori were supporting the first-timers from

off the court. It was a bad habit of his to lose sight of his surroundings when

he got passionate. He had his hands full with what was before his eyes.

“Haijima, next time you get a chance, send it to the

center.”

In the final stage of the set, the back row demanded a back

row attack from Haijima. He was thinking of that high-speed center back Kuroba

tried to show on his first day joining the club. If Kuroba could do it, then he

wanted to do it himself as well.

“Oi, ref! Ain’t that what they call a delay? They’re just

whispering to each other over there. That’s a foul, a foul!”

Okuma raised his voice from the other side of the net. He

seemed to be pretty irritated with getting fouls many times when blocking. It

was Haijima who incorporated the ingenious technique of playing right at the

edge of the net to tempt his opponent into reaching over the net or touching

it. He truly was a frightening first-year.

The B-team’s court got the serve, and Okuma jumped to spike

it with a beast-like roar. However, Haijima moved in front of it with nimble

steps and blocked it. Oi oi…Oda grumbled in his mind. Is he fully

ready to end the game with block points? I just said that I wanted to do a

back-row attack. Read the room.

Okuma

was taller, but Haijima stopped the course with the precise way he moved his

arms. It was a form he wanted to use as a model for first-years who were bad at

blocking.

Oh…I’m looking at someone who has received the favor of

volleyball up close right now… He was given every sense from the god of

volleyball…

Thump. A different sound from the sound of a ball

being hit was heard. From Oda’s position, it was a blind spot, so he couldn’t

immediately grasp what had happened.

Rather than landing on the floor, Haijima dropped.

Kanno immediately blew the foul whistle.

“Haijima!”

He rushed over to him in fright. Haijima was pressing his

hand near his right eye, squatting and gritting his teeth. Was it his eye? His

forehead? Kanno and Suemori also ran over, and the court was in disorder for a

short while.

“Hey, what the hell were you doing? This isn’t rugby!”

He barked across the net, blood rushing to his head. Okuma

made excuses with a slightly frightened look on his face.

“It, it wasn’t on purpose, captain. I only hit him by

accident.”

“Don’t lie to me. If anything happens to our members, I’ll

make you…”

“Senpai. I think he’s probably telling the truth. It wasn’t

intentional. Please calm down. I was watching.”

He was clenching his fists and half-rising to his feet, but

Kanno held down his shoulders. Admonished calmly by his kouhai, he reluctantly

got back down while clenching his teeth.

“I’m

fine…My contact just slipped.”

Haijima slowly got up. His voice was somewhat hoarse, but

his articulation was clear. Oda was relieved that it didn’t seem serious.

“I’m removing myself from the game. Ow…”

After Haijima staggered out of the gym while pressing his

hand against his right eye, the atmosphere immediately became like the closing

of a performance. The decision was that Team B committed a foul, and Team F won

15-10, but they didn’t really care about winning or losing anymore.

The turmoil from the trouble caused everyone to lose

concentration, so they decided to call off the rest of practice today. Oda’s

concentration was more scattered than anyone else’s. He was in a position where

he had to have more composure, but the role of captain was something that he

was unequal to from the start. I don’t have the qualities to lead a team,

I’m just selfish, I just…wanted to be a hitter. I just like getting to a place

as high as possible above people and making them surrender.

The pleasure of being in a duo with Haijima still lingered.

It was a feeling like a slight numbness that spread from the core of his body

to his right fingertips.

I want

him—A

small but concentrated amount of fuel was thrown down onto his feelings of

tiredness after losing in the prefectural tournament.

Practice was cut early and they dispersed, with Okuma and

the rest of the rugby corps also leaving. When he was looking at the court

thinking that it suddenly cooled down when those guys were gone, he saw Haijima

standing before the net, staring fixedly up at it for some reason.

“Are you feeling okay? If you still feel like something’s

off, go get it checked out. If you don’t know the hospitals around here, I’ll

go with you.”

“I’m pretty familiar with it.”

“You don’t see rough play like that in volleyball a lot, do

you?”

“No, I mean outside.”

“…?” Oh, he means outside the court? Hey, you need

complete your sentences over here to have the conversation connect well.

In his case, no matter how you think about, the way he

speaks is causing trouble. It’s no wonder Aoki went off at me about inviting

him—he got him to lay a hand, I mean, foot on him.

“This is 2.43, eh.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah it is, how did you notice? I told them to put

it up at 2.4 since we’re not doing club practice today… I guess we’d been

playing at 2.43 all day.”

At the

ballgame tournament, the boys would be playing with the net at 2.40 meters. The same height as the official matches within the prefecture. When

it came to tournaments that were above prefecture-level like regional and

national tournaments, they were treated the same as general boy’s volleyball at

2.43 meters.

“Do you usually practice at 2.43?”

“Yeah, it’ll be at this height for Spring Inter-High, anyways.”

Haijima gave him a sideways glance, looking slightly

shocked.

Following Inter-High in the summer and Nationals in the

fall, the tournament that filled in the last piece of the three major national

volleyball competitions was “Spring Inter-High Volleyball”. This tournament, which

was held in a particularly spectacular manner among the three major

competitions, was a grand stage that could be compared to Koshien for high

schoolers who played volleyball (as for Oda, he didn’t want to use this

metaphor. Even if you didn’t use baseball as a reference, Spring Inter-High was still

Spring Inter-High). It used to be held in March but has now been moved to January, so

third-years could participate as well, making it the last tournament that all

three school years to face together.

Even at Spring Inter-High, the net was 2.40 meters at the

prefectural qualifiers, but 2.43 meters at the main national competition in

Tokyo.

“Is it funny? A tiny team like us talking about Spring Inter-High.

That might be so, but I don’t think I said anything embarrassing.”

Even if people would think he was conceited, Oda was

serious. If Haijima joined their current members, it wouldn’t be a pipe dream

in the least. It was a realistic goal.

Haijima’s eyes returned to the net again.

“…I

think that kind of thing is okay.”

He muttered. He stretched one hand and touched the top tape

of the net. 2.43 meters was, if one were to give an easy-to-understand example,

about the height of the ceiling in a house. For the 163 centimeters Oda, it

wasn’t a place he could reach just by stretching himself. He envied his ease with

which he could put his fingers on it and, it might sound strange, to fix his

eyes upon it.

“Is this…the height for Spring Inter-High?”

Oh, he smiled… His face was purely radiant, a

complete change from the previous arrogance and impudence, and he was shocked

to see that he could make an expression like that. It was by no means a frank

and open smile. Like a strong light covered by a thin curtain and gently

diffusing through it…it overlapped with Kuroba’s face when he looked up at

the same thing with sparkling eyes on the first day of practice in April, even

though the vectors were completely different.

His feeling that Haijima would be hard to deal with had,

before he knew it, faded through the match.

“Hey, you know, I had a great time playing with you today.

You had a little fun too, didn’t you?”

“Oda-san has good reflexes.”

Unused to hearing himself be called “Oda-san,” he felt

itchy. What’s more, he was using standard Japanese, so it was like he was being

addressed from the TV. But, it’s nice, being called that by him.

“What

you don’t have in height, you make up for with being athletic. You have power too. Stretching

your body in midair, I like that.”

Even though he lambasted him two months ago, he easily

reversed that and acknowledged him. Is he arrogant or honest…what a weird

guy.

Just as I thought, rather than trying to do something

with words, it might be better to invite him to the court first. What the hell,

I feel kinda happy when I’m acknowledged by him… Pride filled his chest. He

was able to believe that he hadn’t been continuing to do something meaningless.

“Will you join us, Haijima? It’ll be boring if you wanna do

it by yourself. You chose volleyball for the ballgame tournament too, right?”

There was no doubt that he continued to practice even though he wasn’t a part

of the club. There was no way a guy who had a gap period since last summer

could move like that.

He expected him to nod, but Haijima dropped his gaze to the

court at his feet with a sullen look on his face. His childish action of poking

at the ground with the toe of his shoe made Oda feel impatient and irritated. There

was also envy. Why the hell is a guy who, unlike me, can just go on with volleyball

without thinking about anything, hesitating here?

“I’m sure you’ll change your mind, Oda-san. I’m not very

well liked. As long as I’m a setter…”

——“Why

are you clinging to that position?”

It

suddenly occurred to Oda that those words that were spat at him before might

not have been contempt towards him.

Is it possible that it’s something

Haijima himself has been thinking about…? Even the personification of volleyball

sense who seems like he was chosen by the god of volleyball thinks that way?

“Hmm? Why are you guys hiding?”

Suemori’s voice echoed in the quiet gym.

Suemori and Kanno, who had spread out a piece of construction

paper in a corner of the gym and working hard on creating a records chart,

looked up and turned their heads to the doorway. The two heads that were

peeking in from the shadow of the iron door shook with a start.

“Did you guys come to help clean up? If that’s the case,

hurry up.”

Suemori briskly stood up, and Kanno followed quietly. Though

the two timidly showed themselves, they stopped at the door like they had

trouble getting in. It was Kuroba and Nagato. The air Haijima wore around him

instantly stiffened. Were they all from the same middle school volleyball team?

“Senpai, is it true that Haijima is joining the club?”

It was Nagato who asked that. His face was unwelcoming

without even having to say it aloud. He pulled on Kuroba’s elbow as if to tell

him to say something as well, but he looked away with an ambiguous look on his

face.

“I’d like to have him join. I’m in the middle of persuading

him, though. If there’s something bothering you, speak up.”

Oda didn’t really

hide his ill humor, and he raised his voice to highlight his captain’s dignity.

One of Oda’s biggest aggravations was the behaviour of trying to get rid of

people in a roundabout way.

“I’m not joining, so don’t worry.”

However,

Haijima himself interjected from the side. His tone, which had begun to soften,

had returned to being curt again. “I don’t think I’m obligated to join in the

cleanup,” he rudely excused himself and turned towards the metal door without

bowing. It was towards the other metal door, clearly avoiding Kuroba and

Nagato. Oda wanted to tear off his head, as just when he thought he closed the

distance a little, he was back to square one.

“I understand Nagato’s point of view. What about you,

Kuroba?”

“Huh?”

Kuroba jumped and took on a posture of caution.

“I…I…”

He awkwardly peeking sideways at Haijima, and then cast his

eyes down, looking a little bit like he was about to cry. Even though he was so

big, he sometimes made expressions like those of an elementary school student,

much less a middle school student. Haijima, who had stopped for a moment, started

walking again. It was at a quicker pace than before.

After that gangly body disappeared behind the metal doors,

Nagato opened his mouth as though he couldn’t bear to wait for that.

“Oda-senpai doesn’t know anything. If Haijima joins, then

Yuni really won’t participate in any official games. In a way, we lost that

other time because of Haijima…”

“Ryo, stop it. I told you that has nothing to do with it.”

With his face bright red, Kuroba stopped Nagato. However,

his voice was weak and it didn’t sound like he was seriously denying it.

Making

his voice stern, Oda asked them a question.

“What

do you mean?”

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