V1C4 Part4

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4. APPROACHNone of these boys have brain cells

None of them

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Until the fourth day of the camp, Kuroba was not

incorporated into the combo plays Haijima was trying to perfect. Kuroba spent

most of the time only practicing receives with Uchimura and Hokao, which only

increased his frustration. His feelings of doubt and distrust were swelling now

as he wondered if Haijima was seriously going to strip him of his role.

“I’ll be back on the night of the first. You free?”

At night, he noticed that he got a text message from

Yorimichi. He was about to do his laundry at Tora no Yu’s coin laundry after

taking a bath. He typed his reply with one hand while tossing his underwear,

T-shirts, and towels into the washing machine with the other.

“Can’t do the first, but maybe after the night of the

third.”

“I’ll come pick you up on the third if you want. Got my

license.”

“You

got a car? That’s amazing!”

“Still don’t have a car yet. Well I’m just riding around town. So, on the third.”

After he sent a single “OK” emoji, the conversation ended

for now.

He did it. He made a promise. The Fall Tournament was from

the first to third, so he made sure to leave them out, and the fourth was his

day off, so he could sleep all day even if he stayed up late the night

before…he made excuses for himself in his head, but he couldn’t shake the guilt.

“Oh crap, I forgot the detergent…”

Even though there was no one else there, he lifted his head

and looked around restlessly as though to ask someone. Right then, Haijima

passed the aluminum doors that were open wide.

“Ah…”

Without thinking, he immediately thrust his phone into the

pocket of his shorts.

Haijima also noticed him right away. “It’s just you?” he

said and briefly looked around. There were old washing machines and dryers

lined up against the wall on both sides, and the aisle was barely wide enough

for two people to squeeze past each other. The drum dryer, rumbling away, was

making a lot of noise and leaking out stiflingly hot air. The fan with the

swiveling head was working at high speed and trying to release the heat to the

outdoors, but it couldn’t keep up at all, and the temperature inside the prefab

was reaching quite an unbearable level. He had just been thinking of taking

refuge in a chair outside until the laundry was done.

Don’t

talk to me. ‘Cause you’re pissing me off. He tried to turn away and ignore him, but…he still

didn’t have detergent.

“…Let me borrow some detergent. While we’re at it, give me

all of it. We’ll do ours together.”

He thrust out his hand while glaring down at the washing

machine tub, and a bag filled with laundry was hung from his hand without

hesitation. A box of powder detergent was on top. Even though he was the one

who suggested it, why did he end up doing Haijima’s laundry as well? He was

extremely reluctant to do this, but he turned the bag upside down and dumped

Haijima’s laundry on top of his own.

“It’s hot here.”

Haijima muttered, and quickly escaped outside while Kuroba

was working. You really do take the service of others for granted, don’t

you?

He inserted coins and started the washing machine, then

pulled out a manga magazine off the magazine shelf and finally escaped outside.

Even though he just came out of the bath, his back was already sweaty. Haijima

bent down in front of the vending machine at the front of the laundromat and

took out a bottle of water.

“I’ll treat you for the laundry money.”

He asked as he put in another hundred-yen coin into the

machine.

“Ah, um, a Coke.”

He answered without thinking. “Don’t drink Coke…” Haijima

complained and pushed the button. Don’t ask then. A diet Coke was

carelessly thrown to him. “Don’t throw it, it’s carbonated.”

They

each sat down on the stool placed on both sides of the aluminum door and

twisted the caps of their bottles open. The chairs were on the small size, so

they were low enough that the two’s legs were too long for it. Haijima had also

just come out of the bath, and his hair was still wet. He was dressed lightly

in a T-shirt and shorts, which doubled as his sleepwear, and his bare feet was

in sneakers. But Kuroba, who was wearing sandals, was dressed a bit lighter

than him. Not that he was competing with him.

Tora no Yu was an old public bathhouse located in the

shopping district at the foot of the mountain where the school was, and the coin

laundry was a prefab attached to it. The front street was the shopping street

that led to Nanafu Station, but after nine p.m., the shutters of all the stores

were already down and garbage bags and flattened cardboard boxes were piled in

front of the stores.

He could hear the sound of the bugs bumping into the bare

bulbs that lit the sidewalk. The sounds of the washing machines and dryers

echoing off the walls of the prefab. The low sound of the vending machine’s

motor. A sultry midsummer night without a breeze. Although it was somewhat more

comfortable than being in the prefab where the heat accumulated, sweat

frequently slid down the inside of his T-shirt.

“Our senpais started doing their laundry before they took their

baths, so they collected it and went back first.”

“Oh, you can do that?”

“They could have just taught us that.”

He

never did laundry at home, so such an efficient procedure never occurred to

him. Thanks to that, he ended up being alone together with Haijima. Kuroba

thought that the atmosphere was getting very tense, but it was unlikely that

Haijima would be reading the room, so he wasn’t sure what sort of attitude he

should take.

His eyes went to the right arm of Haijima, who was toying

with his light blue cap. There four small crescent-shaped internal bleeding

marks on his forearm. Ah…those are my fingernail marks from day before.

“…Your arm.”

When he said that sullenly with a side glance, Haijima’s

eyes dropped to his arm and gave a weak reaction. “Oh.”

He was actually a guy who constantly had fresh wounds or

bruises since middle school. It was odd how often he got into trouble at games.

He dislocated his finger at prefecturals, and apparently Okuma almost injured

him at a ballgame tournament practice. He wondered if his personality invited some

sort of trouble.

Due to his wet hair, he noticed a long scar on his right

temple, just behind the earpiece of his glasses. That scar…the one Yorimichi

gave him…? It was from the winter of their second year of middle school. It

still hadn’t disappeared…? That scar was faint, but it strangely stood out

on his smooth and pale face. His eyes went to his arm scars again.

“Oh, I’m not apologizing. I’m not in the wrong…”

“You don’t have to apologize. Just practice hard.”

“I am practicing hard!”

He unintentionally raised his voice, then got sulky and

plopped down his butt that had been half-rising from his chair.

“Y-You’re

not going to use me at all, are you.”

Once he said it himself, he realized, Yeah, that’s right.

He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. He wondered if he was

the only one who still wanted to play volleyball with Haijima. He wondered if

it was just a one-sided feeling that he had for a year.

In the first place, he still hadn’t apologized to Haijima

about what happened at the prefecturals. He thought they had buried the hatchet

after Haijima joined the Seiin volleyball team, but he turned a blind eye to

the fact that they hadn’t really resolved anything. Haijima doesn’t really

seem like he cares—but it’s not like he wasn’t hurt by my betrayal back then.

——“I

know what your judgement of me is. It’s enough.”

When he turned his back on Haijima, Haijima’s evaluation of

Kuroba must have dropped by several levels. Maybe even to the bottom. He thought

of him as the kind of guy who would run away from the next day’s game because

he was embarrassed at the previous day’s game. He was still wary that he would

cause trouble for the team by hanging out with Yorimichi. He didn’t even know

how much of it was there to begin with, but his credibility in Haijima’s mind

had sunken. He didn’t trust him, on or off the court.

Haijima turned his face towards him and was about to open

his mouth. He was suddenly afraid of what he was going to say, so he

interrupted him with a shrill-sounding “I-I…” before the bottle slipped out of

his hands. The black carbonic acid spilled out, covering his sandal-clad bare

feet.

“What are you doing?”

Haijima

was amazed. “S-Sorry,” he said, lowering his head and reaching his hand to his

feet. Once he submerged his face between his legs, he somehow couldn’t raise it

anymore.

“…I…”

The words were stuck in his throat. With his head down so

far between his legs that his bangs soaked in the puddle of carbonic acid

spreading on the asphalt, he squeezed out a hoarse voice.

“…I’ll, make it up…so, don’t make up your mind about me just

yet…’cause, I wanna be your ace…”

With a bubbling sound, the black carbonic acid continued to

spill out of the bottle opening. He waited a long time, but didn’t hear

Haijima’s response.

When he timidly sent a sideways glance at him, he was

astonished to see Haijima turning his back towards him and fiddling with his

phone. I really am going to punch you once…I knew you were a guy who

wouldn’t understand my feelings unless I said it in words so easy to understand

that there’s no way to misinterpret them, but still, this denseness…

“Whatever… Shit.”

Feeling stupid, he got up and conversely slumped down on his

chair. He didn’t know where to put his feelings that were going nowhere, and he

felt extremely embarrassed.

Haijima

wordlessly lifted his phone a little. He was gesturing for him to look at his

phone. He hated himself for being able to decipher what Haijima wanted to say,

even though he made no effort to convey it clearly.

He looked at his phone that he had thrust into the pocket of

his shorts and saw that he had a new message. It seemed to have come after he

responded to Yorimichi’s message. It was from Okuma.

Right on time, his ringtone began ringing in his hand. This

time it was a call from Okuma. He wasn’t in the mood to chat with him, but he

had no choice but to answer his phone.

“Did you see my message? I didn’t get a response, so I

sent one to Haijima too just now.”

Their quiet surroundings made Okuma’s boorish voice sound

even more annoying and loud, so he moved the phone a little further from his

ear and spoke.

“I was just about to look. Anyways, you could have taught us

about the laundry thing.”

“The two of you are still at Tora no Yu? Can you guys go

to the gym before you come back to camp? I think I forgot something there.”

“Huh…what did you forget? Isn’t the school locked?”

“Don’t worry about that. It’s open.”

“How?”

“Look at the dryer on the far left. You’ll get an item. I’ll

need the both of you to bring it back, so make sure you go with Haijima.”

“But what did you forget…”

“You’ll know when you get there.”

He hung

up on him without answering his questions properly.

When he stuck his head into the prefab, he saw a convenience

store plastic bag hanging from the door of the dryer closest to the entrance.

He inspected it and found a small flashlight within. Wow, he really thpught

of everything. I wish he had left detergent instead, though.

The phone that was still in his hand rang again. It was from

Okuma again, and this time it was a message. “If you want us to do an errand,

just say it in one go…He’s so annoying…” He checked the message while

grumbling.

“I

forgot to say this, but our gym is haunted.”

***

I wonder if he heard what I said earlier…I hope not. He

was beginning to think that as time passed by.

“I wanna be your ace.” That line was so embarrassing that

it makes my stomach turn. I feel like I’m gonna die in agony when I recall it.

It’s Haijima, so he probably didn’t listen to what I said. Yeah, it’s

definitely like that. May it be like that.

Even when he glanced to his side, he could barely make out the

outline of Haijima’s profile and couldn’t gauge his expression at all.

There

were no lights in the school at night. Both of them walked in silence on the

narrow path illuminated by the flashlight in Haijima’s hand. The silence seemed

even more awkward because there was no place for their eyes to escape to. The

rustling sounds of the laundry bags they both were holding was deafening to his

ears. The weight of the wet laundry hanging from his arm was also somewhat

uncomfortable.

Every time the light brushed against their surroundings, the

sight that emerged looked completely different from how it was in the daytime.

Although he had memorized the school’s layout, he was losing confidence in

whether or not the mapping in his head matched up with the place they were

actually walking in. There was no doubt that the area that lay before ahead of

them like a calm jet-black sea was the first sports ground. The shadow of the

club room row house looked like some sort of crouching giant creature that was

slumbering.

The school building was at the end of the path between the

first sports ground and the row house. As they advanced forward, unable to

grasp the distance to the school building, an ochre-colored wall suddenly

appeared in the round light. When they moved along the wall, he saw that the

doors to the passage that they usually used to go in and out of the gym from

the club room was open on one side, just as Okuma said.

He stretched his neck and peered into the door. It wasn’t

perfectly dark because there was a faint blue in the sky, but it was completely

dark indoors. It was dominated by only black. The corridor in front of the gym

was an open space with a few exercise machines and training mats, but he

couldn’t catch their shadows at all now.

Haijima

took off his sneakers and stepped inside, leaving the laundry bag there on the

spot. Kuroba wondered how he could move so confidently with this visibility,

but he hurriedly took of his sandals and followed him.

“Haijima, wait…Shine it better, I can’t see my feet.”

“I am shining it. And don’t cling to me, your hand’s hot.”

“I-I’m not clinging to you…”

When he suddenly let go of the hand that he had

unconsciously put on Haijima’s shoulder, he heard footsteps coming from behind

him. Sounds like the wet slapping of webbed feet—like a kappa’s footsteps!

He was about to scream and run away when he pushed Haijima

down and he fell forward with a “Wah!” The light from the flashlight jumped in

the wrong direction, there was the sound of metal hitting the wall, and the

light went out.

His vision was blocked by a curtain of complete darkness

that made even his sense of up and down uncertain.

“You…”

“T-There was just someone behind me!”

“Laundry.”

“Ah.”

On all fours, he looked behind him. There were no suspicious

shadows, just a dim blue cut-out in the shape of the door. There was no sign of

a yokai with a shell on its back. Was that the sound of the laundry bag

falling?

“What are you so scared of? Don’t tell me you really thought

something was gonna come out?”

“I-I-I-I wasn’t scared! I-Is the flashlight broken?”

He

raised his voice deliberately and crawled on all fours, fearfully running his

hands in the direction the light had jumped to. He was pretty sure the exercise

machine was around here, so he might crash into it if he moved carelessly.

“You’re a hundred years too early to be my ace like that.”

Haijima’s voice came from somewhere in the darkness.

…It seems like he did hear me. All of it.

“Uh, um, that’s, you know…”

“It seems like you got the wrong idea about something.”

He couldn’t help but stumble over his words as he tried to

excuse himself. “No need for that, I already understand,” Haijima interrupted

him, and Kuroba crouched down with his head in his hands. Stop, stop, don’t

kick me when I’m down any more than that. I already know that I had the wrong

idea.

“You’re the team’s ace, at least.”

He covered his ears and stiffened his body to withstand the

damage from the merciless Haijima’s dagger-like wor——.

…Huh?

“Ummm…can you say that one more time…?”

He

asked back blankly. He stealthily looked up from the gap in his arms and craned

his neck around, but Haijima’s figure was hidden by the curtain of darkness

that had fallen on all sides. The only thing he could hear was a voice that had

a clear quality even though it was muttering, permeating the darkness like

ripples spreading in water.

“You’re the one who hits the fastest, highest, and strongest

on this team, Kuroba. That’s what they call an ace, right? That’s why you’re

the only ace, not anyone else. Oda-san and the others know that.”

“Oda-senpai…? Really? Our senpais really said that?”

“You think I’d lie?”

After shaking his head with vigor, he realized they couldn’t

see each other and said it aloud. “I don’t think that, but then why do you keep

leaving me out…?” Haijima didn’t follow up on people to the point of flattering

them. He always said what he thought, so that notice of dismissal from the day

before should have also been what he really thought…

“…At the prefecturals…”

There was suddenly interference in his voice, like he was

hesitating to say something. The ripples, which were once undistorted perfect

circles, arrived a little warped. The word “prefecturals” seemed to have been

used for the first time between the two of them since that day a year ago. That

word he heard in Haijima’s voice weighed heavily on his heart.

“At that time, I only had you. That’s why I had no choice

but to act recklessly… But now there’s people like Oda-san and Aoki-san and

Kanno-san, who are all better than you, so I can do things differently this

time. I won’t let something like that happen again. I’m doing that different

way now.”

“…? Sorry, I don’t really get it.”

Since

the information was conveyed in chunks and not clear at all, Kuroba, who had

been listening with a tense and meek expression, gradually began to tilt his

head in confusion. Just when I thought I’ve been acknowledged, it sounded

like I was being called shitty after all…

His fingers touched something hard. “Ah,” he muttered, and

fumbled for the flashlight that had fallen into his hands. When he ran his hand

along the cylindrical body and found the switch, he heard the rest of Haijima’s

speech.

“I’ll prove it. At the Fall Tournament. I’ll make every ball

I set to you the best one. …Because, I’m the one who wanted to make up for it…”

A white light lit up in his hand. He held up the light in

the direction of the voice, but Haijima wasn’t there. Didn’t I hear his

voice just now—?

It seemed to have just disappeared, and he was suddenly assailed by

uneasiness. It was impossible, but for some reason, he thought that he had

suddenly gone back to Tokyo——

“Hai…”

The moment he got up and prepared to run,

“…Ow, what the hell is this…?”

He heard a grumble. When his shin hit something and he

pitched forward, he narrowly managed to keep his footing and pointed the light

at his feet. The light illuminated the seam of a worn-out undyed exercise mat.

Now that he thought about it, there were always mats piled up at a height where

it was easy to stumble over them around here.

Haijima

had fallen down on that mat.

“Lame…you tripped.”

While feeling so relieved that the energy drained out of

him, he put on a look of amazement and extended his hand with a “Here.” For a

moment, he seriously thought he was gone, and he panicked.

He wanted to properly hear what he said earlier one more

time. Can you say that for me one more time…he wanted to ask, but he

didn’t want him to take it back, so he didn’t.

Those best sets our best setter talked about. They must

be amazing sets that would astonish not only the opposing team, but also the

entire venue. How nice it must feel to be the attacker who hit them. He said he

would give them to me, didn’t he? All of his best sets, to me…

His body was starting to itch. He couldn’t wait to play a

game. Hurry up and come, Fall Tournament.

“You…aren’t going back to Tokyo anymore, are you. You’re

gonna play volleyball with us, right? We’ll play in the Fall Tournament together.”

He couldn’t help but

confirm that no matter what. He didn’t know why he still felt anxious about the

possibility that Haijima would one day leave this area where their spoken

language was understood, but it sometimes crossed his mind.

The rim of Haijima’s glasses glinted faintly as he sat on

the edge of the mat, and Kuroba knew that he was looking up at him. It was

irritating that he couldn’t see his expression even though he wanted to. He

still had the feeling that if he turned the light there, he would disappear

again, and his anxiety wouldn’t go away.

“I

said I ain’t going back.”

It was

just a few words, but it had the local intonation—in a voice that contained a

bit of laughter, Haijima said that and took Kuroba’s hand. When he felt the force

of the two of them pulling each other in his arm, he felt like he had finally

grasped something solid.

***

When they pushed open the metal doors of the gym, an

unpleasant sound shook the air, as though their nerves were being filed off. It

was of course pitch dark in the gym. Because it was closed off since evening

practice, heat and humidity accumulated. As soon as they stepped in, it felt

like a damp cloth hanging from the ceiling was sticking to his face…the lack of

visibility was allowing him to imagine all sorts of things. Despite himself, he

put his hand on Haijima’s shoulder again, hiding half of his body behind him.

He put the flashlight on Haijima’s shoulder like it was a

bipod (the thing a sniper put a rifle on) and shined it forward, illuminating a

very small area of the floor. Overlapping colored tapes were laid on the floor

to indicate lines for volleyball and other sports. “Don’t put your hand on me,”

Haijima growled, but he didn’t attempt to shake him off.

“What did he forget? He said we’ll know when we get

there…Hmm?”

When

he moved the light, something metallic glinted. It was a rusted pole…with a net

attached to it…?

“Oh, by something forgotten, did he mean that we forgot to

put away the net?”

“We did put it away.”

“Yeah we did,” He remembered untying the strings by himself

and carrying the poles after they finished evening practice.

“Why did they go out of their way to put it back up…?”

Plop…

Something white cross the light in a parabola. After a big

bounce, it rolled into a corner of the gym—it was a volleyball. “…?” After he

turned the light around and followed its whereabouts, he thought it was strange

and turned the light back to the net——.

A hand was caught on the net. Two hands, actually, and

covered in blood. The five fingers hooked onto the net and began climbing

upwards at a great speed. When the hands reached the white band at the top, a

human face poked out from above the band.

“…It’s your fault…”

A gloomy whisper descended from the ceiling. A trail of

blood trickled down the edge of the face’s half-open lips. The eyeballs that

had stagnated at the back of the sunken eye sockets took on a dim and resentful

glow.

“——It’s

your fault!!”

The whisper suddenly

turned into a cursed scream that reverberated throughout the gym.

The

head began to quickly move sideways with the chin hooked on the white band.

There was no way that a two-meter-looking person would be able to stand like

that and poke their face over a 2.43 meter net like that, so it was an impossible

movement.

“It’s your fault——!”

Amidst the echo of running footsteps, the head went from one

end of the white band to the other and back again with the thudding sounds. It

was starting to look more and more like…it was at a loss because it couldn’t

get a reaction.

Kuroba stared in amazement, standing at the doorway.

“…What are you doing, Kanno-senpai?”

When he quipped that with his eyes half-closed, the head

clearly looked relieved.

Kanno, who played the role of the head, called out downwards

and stopped moving sideways. One part of the ceiling lights was turned on to

illuminate the gym. Kanno turned over the black curtain he was coiled in from

the neck down and jumped down to the floor. Another person came out from the

curtain. “Oi oi oi, that was so boring, we were covered in sweat over here,”

Okuma said, his face flushed.

“Are we done here?”

Hokao, who was in front of the lighting control panel at the

side of the stage, said. Even Uchimura came out of the broadcasting room. All

four of the second-years on the boys’ volleyball team were here.

“What, I was gonna scare you so hard you’ll piss yourselves,

but you got more guts than I thought.”

Okuma

complained, wiping his face that was drenched in sweat.

“Isn’t it because it’s so obvious?”

“What, it took a lot of work to do his makeup.”

“They forced me to play the ghost…”

“No, it really suits you!” He gently quipped at Kanno, who

seemed to be unhappy with his casting and was pouting. The circles under his

eyes and the blood were makeup, but he was a pale person who looked like a

ghost in the first place, so he didn’t look that different from his regular

self. “What is this anyways? Are you second-years bored?”

“It’s the annual test of courage for our boys’ volleyball

training camp. It was done to us for the past two years too. Aoki-senpai’s production

when he went all out wasn’t at this level, you know? You should be thankful

that Okuma wanted to direct it this year.”

Hokao said, and Okuma stuck out his chest. Even though he

was casually dissed, he seemed to take it as a positive compliment. “It’s that

suspension bridge effect thing, you know? They say that when two people

experience fear together, they become closer.”

For a moment, Kuroba was speechless. Were their senpais also

concerned about the fact that things were cold between him and Haijima…?

He was

grateful for the sentiment, but a forced laugh slipped out, thinking that they

were just a second too late. It’s probably resolved now…I think I said most

of what I wanted to say, and I’ve heard Haijima’s response.

“There’s no way Haijima would be scared of such a cheap

prank, let alone me. Right…”

When he turned around, his smile faded and he cut himself

off.

“…Haijima?”

Haijima wasn’t looking at him at all. He was standing bolt

upright, staring at some other point. The blood had drained from his face to

the point where he looked even paler than Kanno’s makeup, and his expression

was stiffening with his narrow eyes widened. When he followed where his gaze

was fixed, it led to…Kanno’s hands?

Kanno, who was wiping the bloodstains smeared on his hands,

noticed his gaze and said in puzzlement, “Yes?”

“Uhya-hya-hya, Haijima had a better reaction, didn’t he? Is

he weak against blood…”

Okuma’s guffaws floated up from the atmosphere of the

situation, and trailed off awkwardly. The second-years all had quizzical looks

on their faces, because Haijima was acting abnormally by his standards.

Haijima’s

gaze left Kanno’s hands and moved to a corner of the gym where the light didn’t

reach, as though he was afraid of something. One ball was lying around in the

stagnant darkness. His gaze moved again with an awkward movement, like he was

tracing something while getting caught on the splintered surface, and turned to

the net next. He looked up at the net that didn’t have a bloody hand stuck in

it anymore—what was he doing?

“…What’s…wrong…?”

Kuroba was the one who was shocked at the color of Haijima’s

face, which he had never seen before. His voice was scratchy as he asked that

question.

It’s

nothing, Haijima

muttered as he removed his gaze from the net and didn’t look anywhere else. He

rubbed the tip of his left middle finger in front of his abdomen. He was

curious about what that gesture meant, but he couldn’t ask anymore questions

because Haijima’s mind, which had been properly directed outwards until

earlier, had abruptly turned inward.

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