V1C4 Part5

Parsed with an automated reader. The content accuracy is not guranteed.

5. HIGH, FAST, STRONGSorry it took so long, there was a lot going on in this chapter

Translation Notes

1. I don’t think I word it very well here but Haijima literally says “obsessing over the face for their school grade” which I think basically means worrying over acting their age or something like that

2. I don’t know if there even is a term in English for this but a high set (二段トス) is where another player sets the ball instead of the setter because the received ball is off

3. The Sanzu River is the Buddhist equivalent of the River Styx

Previous || Index || Next

The Prefectural High School Fall Tournament was held for

three days on August 1st, August 2nd, and August 3rd.

For the past several years, the number of schools participating in boys’

volleyball official tournaments was fixed at twenty-two. The tournament

consisted of the first round on the first day, the second round on the second

day, and the semifinals and finals on the third day.

You had to win five matches to win the championship.

However, Seiin High School was lucky enough to get a seeded spot in the first

round of the tournament, so they would participate in the second round. In

other words, they had to win four matches.

Just four matches. Those were the same conditions as the

prefecturals a year ago.

As

Haijima had said, the fact that there were no sub-prefectural block qualifiers

and only twenty participating schools in the whole prefecture would be an

unthinkable scope in a large city. That was how close it was to Nationals, but

it was also undeniable that it was difficult to maintain the level of

competition because there were few competitors.

Seiin High School’s first game was on August 2nd,

the second day of the tournament. Before the start of the first game of the day

and the second round of the tournament, the banner that read “Nanafu Seiin High

School Boys’ Volleyball Team” written boldly and masculinely in black ink on

white cloth, hung from the second floor of the stands and released an overwhelming

presence. Needless to say, it was in the hand of Kuroba’s grandfather, as it

was in the case of Monshiro Middle School. He repeatedly instructed his mother

to refrain from having a large cheering squad of all his relatives as she did

in middle school, but she asked to at least hang a banner. He reluctantly

discussed it with Oda, and the moment he saw the actual thing, he had taken to

it completely. I’ve thought about this now and then, but Oda-senpai and

Grandpa would definitely get along.

I’m not…nervous today…right…?

He carefully confirmed that with himself. His body was

moving well. His heartbeat was normal. Unlike the school gym, the air

conditioning was working in city-run gymnasium, so it was rather cool if

anything, and right now he was sweating moderately after finishing his warmup.

He didn’t feel uncomfortable. I feel like I can really do it today…then

again, I always think that before a match.

“Yuniii! Yuuuni!”

He

heard someone calling him through the buzz that enveloped the court right before

the game. He turned his head to the second floor and spotted Itoko waving at

him right above the “Nanafu Seiin High School Boys’ Volleyball Team” banner

hanging from the front row.

With a face that said “You found me!”, Itoko stood and

pointed to the seat next to her. “Look, look!”

“Ah… Yori-chan…”

Yorimichi, wearing a tight tank top and a Hawaiian shirt,

was yawning as he plunked down on the plastic chair that looked cramped for

someone of his size. This was the first time he saw him since he became a

university student, but with his long hair tied all the way back into a bun, he

looked even more like a punk. He was a bit impressed by how even though he was

plenty vulgar in his third year of high school, he still had room to get worse.

Come to think of it, he should have returned yesterday.

Itoko looked as though she was proud of the achievement of bringing her brother

here. It had been about a year and a half since Kuroba started playing

volleyball seriously, and this was the first time Yorimichi came to watch a

match.

Why did he come? He wondered. Well, he was

probably dragged here by Itoko because he happened to be back, but even so, he

wouldn’t have gotten up even if Itoko invited him when he’s at home, so why did

he decide to come today? I wonder what he’ll think when he watches my game.

Would he make fun of me? Maybe he’d laugh and say, “Why are you being so

serious about sports?”

He met eyes with Yorimichi. Kuroba thoughtlessly smiled in

spite of himself, but Yorimichi didn’t smile. With a bored look on his face, he

jerked his chin, as though to say, “Give me something to look at.”

What

should I do… What

should he show Yorimichi to satisfy him? Can he get him not to say things like

“I shouldn’t have come to see this”, “This is a waste of time,” or “I got woken

up early for this?”

His back was poked. He turned back with a start and saw

Haijima putting his fist on the left side of Kuroba’s back, right behind his

heart, and glaring at him with a stern look in his eyes. It was then that he

became aware that his heart, which had been calm earlier, was now beating

faster.

“Ugh…Sorry again, I…”

“I told you not to look around. Just look inside the court.

Everyone’s there. Enemies…and friends too.”

As he felt Haijima’s fist pressing against his back through

his uniform for a while, strangely enough, his heart which had been bouncing

like a rubber ball gradually regained its normal weight.

“Don’t be in a hurry. Just wait.”

When Haijima said that and lowered his fist, his heart

beating in its normal position. It was like he was preparing for battle, and

the taping on Haijima’s fingers absorbed his nerves.

Haijima

no longer paid Kuroba any attention and started talking to Oda and the others

at the courtside. Kuroba hurriedly joined the circle of matching uniforms.

Seiin’s uniform was black with blue lines. Only the libero had the reverse

color scheme of black on blue. When Okuma was handed the uniform, he made an

ominous prediction that the team would lose halfway because those weren’t the colors

of a protagonist team, and Oda had gotten angry at him (According to Okuma, the

protagonist team’s colors were a combination of “white and blue.” He thought he

understood what he meant).

The starting members for Seiin High School were,

Number 1 Oda

Shinichiro Third Year Left 163cm

Number 2 Aoki

Misao Third Year Center

193cm

Number 4 Kanno

Akito Second Year Right

181cm

Number 7 Kuroba

Yuni First Year Left 184cm

Number 8 Haijima

Kimichika First Year Setter

181cm

Number 10 Okuma

Yusuke Second Year Center

187cm

Number 5 Hokao

Kazuma Second Year Libero

170cm

Reserve Number 3

Uchimura Naoyasu Second Year 175cm

The above eight members were going into the match with all

their strength.

For Haijima, this tournament would be his debut high school

game, but as expected of someone with nerves as thick as sewer pipes, he didn’t

seem nervous at all as he went over the formation with Oda and the others. They

were the only school in the tournament that had a first-year as the setter,

which was a position rare for even a second-year starting member to be in due

to its importance as a so-called “playmaker” position. It was already

attracting attention, but Haijima didn’t care about the gazes of others, or

rather, he didn’t notice.

Both

teams took the court, and the cheers of the waiting parents grew louder. I

wonder if Yorimichi’s voice is mixed in with them…I doubt it, though…

Crap, my mind is on the outside of the court again. I

have to focus on the inside of the court. He ruminated on Haijima’s words

like they were a magic spell and let them soak into his body.

“Everything is inside the court. Enemies…and friends

too.”

That guy said…friends. He felt like it was the first

time he heard that word from Haijima’s mouth.

He subconsciously searched for him. Haijima still wasn’t on

the court. He was standing on the sidelines and fiddling with the taping on his

fingers in front of his stomach. Huh…? He’s doing that thing again…?

He

shook his head lightly, put his hands down to his sides, and fixed his gaze on

the court, his face as stiffly focused as ever. It was a face that said

everything important in this world was on the nine-by eighteen-meter volleyball

court.

From the beginning of the first set to the middle, Seiin

used the newly incorporated center and right combination attacks from the

training camp to get most of their points until the scores of both teams

reached the ten point range. The dexterous duo of Aoki and Kanno toyed with the

enemy’s blocks so easily that it was funny.

And

after all was said and done, it was Haijima who was masterminding that. In

addition to the transcendent accuracy of his overhand handling, he was able to

set the ball to any place with one hand even when the receives to the front of

the net were disordered. In addition, if there was even the slightest opening——.

Haijima’s left hand flashed over the net as he looked to

make a jump set. In the next moment, a two-attack was made launched into the

opponent’s territory with unbelievable speed.

The other team froze, and the gallery let out cries of

surprise. It seemed to have become a rumor in the venue that Seiin, a team that

was completely out of the limelight, was displaying an unusual strength from

the first game with an incredible rookie in their ranks. There were even people

who looked like they were from the high school sports association appearing

here and there on the court.

——However.

He had not set a single ball to Kuroba, who was in the ace position. He was

beginning to feel like he wasn’t going to hit a single ball in this match. He

was sure that Yorimichi was in the stands right now, being disgusted that he

wasn’t being useful at all. Even the blocker of the opposing team who he was

matched up with was starting to get a look on his face like, “Why is this guy

on the court?” He was beginning to feel bad that they marked him.

Oda also made a high-speed back row attack. Through the

training camp, he had come to be able to match Haijima’s sets, which literally

meant “high and fast,” perfectly. Kuroba’s and Oda’s highest points were thirty

centimeters apart, but they were able to do powerful back-row attacks as though

they were hitting the ball at the same positions.

What

the hell am I doing here? He couldn’t help but feel that way. If they

wouldn’t let him hit, then the team would be much better off putting Uchimura

in, who played better defense than Kuroba. During the training camp, Oda and

the others were searching for a formation that prioritized receiving ability by

swapping Kuroba and Uchimura.

If it was until yesterday, it might have gone bad. But… He

recalled his conversation with Oda this morning.

“What do you think are the features of Haijima’s sets?”

It occurred when everyone was going to the competition

venue. Oda had stopped Kuroba and asked him that.

“They’re high, fast, and straight. A B pass somehow

becomes an A pass. He’s unpredictable when sending the ball to the front or

back, so even his teammates don’t know where it’s going. But the worst is that

he has no intention to match the attackers. He makes difficult sets with a face

that says ‘It’s your fault if it doesn’t reach you.’”

He answered with complaints mixed in. Oda smiled, looking

strangely happy.

“Yeah. The basic ability of a good setter is to make the

attacker feel good about hitting the ball. On that point, Haijima’s sets has

too much of his own tendencies and are difficult to hit. But why do you think

they’re difficult?”

Kuroba was puzzled by the further questioning. Even if he

was asked why, all he could say was that they reflected Haijima’s sadistic and

inconsiderate personality.

“Haijima’s

sets are probably customized to each attacker’s ability with precision.

Everyone’s highest jumping points, takeoff, and swing speed is different. The

set comes right in at the moment when each person is swinging at their highest

points, within a few tenths of a second. However, he doesn’t set the ball to

the place where it’s comfortable to hit it, he sets it to where it would be a

little difficult. It’s not a place where you can’t reach at all, but a place

where you will be able to reach if you really concentrate, stretch your nerves

all over your body, and bring out your maximum power to hit. That’s why I’m

practicing with Haijima…I’m getting better. I realized that for the first time

in a match. I can see my surroundings better than in practice. I’m gaining the

ability to hit at the highest point. As far as I know, there’s no setter as

dedicated as that guy.”

The word “dedicated” was about as far from Haijima as the

other side of the universe, and it somehow sent a shudder down Kuroba’s spine.

Seeing his doubtful face, Oda laughed again.

“Kuroba, you don’t believe in Haijima?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in him, but…”

“Actually, Haijima told me something. He told me that no

matter what happened today, I shouldn’t bench you.”

“Huh…?”

“It’s

not Haijima you don’t believe in, but just yourself. If you can’t believe in

yourself, try believing in Haijima.”

Hokao

made a beautiful A-pass to Haijima. Aoki and Kanno ran to intersect each other

behind Haijima to divert the block targets. Oda also jumped out to do a

back-row attack.

Haijima threw a glance at him for a moment under his hands,

which were held in an overhand stance.

“Just wait.” ——Haijima’s

words before the game echoed in his head.

Before he could think about it, his body was moving and he

was doing an approach run. Two well-paced steps with his right foot and then

left foot. On the third step, he stepped firmly on the floor with his two feet,

right and left, and lowered his ankles, knees, hips deeply. He swung his arms

from back to front deeply, releasing the power stored in his lower body to leap

into the air. The entire floor threw his body up high due to his elasticity—the

result when one could jump the highest.

There was nothing blocking the space above the net of two

meters and forty centimeters. I’m completely unmarked! The opponent’s

blocking was completely shaken off by Aoki’s and Kanno’s movements. For a

sensible few seconds, he stood still in the air and had a clear view of the

opponent’s entire court. The course that he was meant to pierce the ball down

seemed to automatically emerge. It was a sport where you had to defend a

nine-by-nine meter court with a reaction speed of a few tenths of a second. If

you lagged for even a moment, there would be an opening there.

Even though today was the first time they played together,

even though they hadn’t played together properly during the training camp,

Haijima’s set flew “straight” towards Kuroba’s highest point, so precise and

accurate that it was incredible. The timing was perfect. It fit right into his

hand without a millimeter of deviation. All he had to do was to leave it to the

rotation of his body and swing his arms.

The ball, driven in at an acute angle, bounced up in the opponent’s

court with a bang. The highest, fastest, strongest——!

He was

able to spike with all his power in an official game, something he kept failing

at ever since the middle school prefecturals. He didn’t know what he was

stumbling over, so he was at a complete loss for a whole year. Then that single

set came to him like a sword of light cutting through the darkness, and he just

hit it without thinking about anything, forgetting himself completely——. He

still couldn’t believe he hit it. Why couldn’t he do it until now?

“If you can’t believe in yourself, try believing in

Haijima.”

At that moment, they connected. Haijima’s—that guy’s—clumsy,

easy to misunderstand, disconnected words became one thought. “I won’t let

that happen again.” “I’ll prove it at the Fall Tournament.” “I’ll make every

ball I set to you the best ones.” “Don’t be in a hurry. Just wait.”

“Kuroba!”

As though he was tired of waiting for the long flight time

to end, Oda jumped at him and put him in a headlock.

“Okay, that’s enough!”

With his hair mussed up, Kuroba absentmindedly answered,

“Ah…okay.” Hokao poked his shoulder, and Aoki slapped his butt. Kanno, who was

moving back to serve, gave him a small peace sign. Okuma and Uchimura were

loudly cheering something from the warm-up zone.

“Seiin

High School has two immoveable pillars: the high-speed combination performance

developed by setter Haijima Kimichika and the explosive offensive power of ace

Kuroba Yuni—we’ll be the team that people will talk like that about.”

When it seemed that the referee was going to give them a

warning, Oda finally released Kuroba’s head with a “got you” look on his face.

“Well, it’s also because I was talked into it by Haijima.”

He bashfully added, and then his expression stiffened.

“Alright, Kuroba, let’s take it from here.”

“Y-Yes.”

Kuroba nodded, his cheeks flushed. He was so happy to hear

the words “Ace Kuroba Yuni” from Oda’s mouth that his inferiority complex from

the training camp was easily blown away.

It was just as Haijima said. You’re the team’s ace. He

felt like the world was turning out just as Haijima said, and a shiver welled

up from deep within him with a little bit of fear and excitement that swallowed

that up.

Haijima was the only one who was completely calm about the

one play and was already observing the opponent’s court with his mind on the

next play. The rotation turned once, and the front row now consisted of, from

the left, Haijima, Kuroba, and Aoki. The player must the rotation’s positional

relationship until the ball was served, or it would be a positional fault

penalty. The moment the ball was served, Haijima must quickly move to the right

side and have the line order be replaced with Kuroba, Aoki, and Haijima, the

three of them stood by in a tight group near the center of the front row.

“You

were considering this from the beginning. Leaving me out from the combination

practice…”

He couldn’t help but whisper that question as he and Haijima

were huddled together behind Aoki.

In the prefecturals a year ago, Kuroba had been overly

conscious of the blocks and fell apart spectacularly after being persistently

marked by the opposing team. However, since Kuroba was the only attacker who

could hit the ball, they had no choice but to set all the balls to him, and

there was no way to get himself unmarked.

But now——Haijima

said, “I can do things differently.” If the opponent was aware that their team

used the center-right combination a lot, they would become wary of it and adopt

a blocking system that was closer to the right, and the mark on Kuroba on the

left would weaken. The scenario was to have the seniors play the role of

setting the stage, so to speak, in order to have him hit the ball unmarked and

get rid of his awareness that he was bad at it.

“How on earth do you make a request like that to the senpais…You

really do have nerves of steel.”

He could only be thankful that he was blessed with

understanding seniors.

“You’re decisive enough on your own. We’ll do the cheap

tricks to get you to hit the ball. If you’re a senpai who’s so obsessed with stuff

like keeping face as a senior (1) and ruin our chances of winning, then we don’t

need you anyways.”

Haijima

declared unabashedly while his gaze was fixed on the opponent’s court. But then

he suddenly pouted and added something else in a whisper.

“…That’s why, I’m taking you. To the Spring Tournament.”

Although he didn’t say the word “senpais,” Kuroba

supplemented that word in his mind. He A laugh escaped from his lips as he

realized that in his own way, Haijima felt indebted to Oda and the others.

“You talk like you alone are taking them, but…we’re the ones

taking them, aren’t we?”

Haijima blinked in surprise. Kuroba was embarrassed after he

said that aloud, having gotten carried away and talked big. He was afraid that

he would be cut down again with “you’re a hundred years too early to say that.”

However,

“…Yeah.”

Haijima’s face softened, and he nodded.

Now he understood—everything was in the court. Enemies, and

friends as well. He wondered if Yorimichi was watching. However, he didn’t feel

like looking up at the stands, when normally he would be curious and try to

find him. His feet were properly rooted here, not on the second floor of

the stands.

He didn’t look for him, but he just wanted Yorimichi to see

this. There was nothing to be shrink from. There was nothing to be embarrassed

of. He wanted to puff up his chest and be proud of that this was the volleyball

he was so passionate about right now. Above all, he wanted him to see this

team.

He saw

Haijima touching the taping on his fingers again. He lightly shook his head and

fixed his gaze forward with a focussed expression on his face. He didn’t seem

to be in bad shape, so Kuroba didn’t mind it at the time.

“Do it with the intention of taking it and hitting it

yourself.”

He was told this by Hokao and Uchimura as they went along

with his receiving practice during the training camp, to the point he had

calluses on his ears. Don’t just sit back and watch the ball after a serve

receive, run with the intention of snatching away the set to yourself. The

left-side hitters have always been an easy target for the serve. That was why

their receiving abilities, not just their spiking abilities, were the key to

offense. No matter how good Haijima was, if his serve receive was up to par,

there was no way to build an offense.

Even though he knew that, when he received the ball, he felt

like he had done his job and stopped moving, but thanks to being told that over

and over and repeating it in practice, it was hammered into his body. There was

meaning in being taken out of offensive practice during training camp and

forced to do only receiving practice.

He was

hit by a serve in his bad form and fell on his butt, but he immediately jumped

up and ran. Although the receive went off course, Haijima had already entered

the ball’s drop point due to his outstanding reading speed and mobility. This

was what he meant when he said that with Haijima, a B-pass became an A-pass. An

A-pass was a good receive that allowed the setter to return to a position that

didn’t move in from in front of the net for the fastest combination attack, but

a B-pass was a worse receive than that. When it came to the C-pass, the setter

might not be able to get it, and if that happened, the sign could not be used

and another player would have to do a high set. (2) However, Haijima didn’t

abandon the sign, even if it was a C-pass, and chased the ball himself to force

a combination attack.

Haijima alone had the final say on who got to hit among the

four attackers on the court, including Kuroba. He judged the situation

instantly based on the reactions of the opposing blockers and receivers, and in

Haijima’s case, rather than simply striking where they were undermanned, he

chose the option that would allow him to harass his opponents the most and

leave an impact on the rest of the play.

He noticed that he was being marked by a blocker, but Kuroba

sent the desire of being given the ball to Haijima. Until now, all he thought

about was escaping from the blocks. But now he was ready to smash one in.

Haijima touched his taping again for an instant and made a

gesture of shaking his head. ——What,

now?

Haijima opened his eyes wide at the ball that was

approaching right in front of his face, and he turned away as though to run

from it and knocked it down with his hand.

Beep——.

The whistle sounded, and there were cheers from the opposing

court for their good luck. Meanwhile, on Seiin’s court, all the attackers who

ended up with half-baked jumps looked at Haijima with astonishment. That was

natural for anyone who knew the man named Haijima. It wouldn’t have mattered if

it was someone else’s basic mistake, but Haijima——?

The

ball rolled fruitlessly to the center of their court. It was unbelievable, but

Haijima, who was staring at it with a look that was even filled with hatred,

and then as though he had returned to himself, immediately put out his hand and

flicked it out of the court.

***

“Thank you for your

hard work!”

All the members of the team formed a line facing the advisor

and spoke in unison. Oda stepped out of the line and faced his team members.

“Now, we’re going back to school temporarily…”

“Aah…Oda, there’s always tomorrow, so let’s just break up

here. Some people live closer to here than school.”

The old advisor interjected with a slippery voice like half

of his body was already submerged in the Sanzu River (3), causing Oda’s temple to

twitch. “I think you’re the only one whose home is close, sir, but…” Although

he bitterly grumbled that, Oda sighed in defeat and turned back to the members.

“We’ll break up here for now. The Nanafu group will stay

together and return to the school. Everyone else can go back home. Tomorrow,

we’ll meet in the clubroom at six-thirty. Alright, don’t get into any accidents

or anything like that, and think of it as a match until you get home, don’t

lose focus.”

“What is this, a

field trip?”

Aoki

let out a strained laugh and quipped, taking over the conversation from Oda,

who looked embarrassed.

“The Monshiro group is going far away, so ask your parents

to give you a ride. I’ll put the ball case in the old teacher’s car, but Kuroba

and Haijima, can you bring the cooler box back home and then bring it back

tomorrow?”

“Oh, yes, we can both bring it tomorrow. Our houses are

close.”

The two third-years gave Kuroba a casual look as he quickly

jumped to attention and answered. Guessing that they wanted him to take a look

at how Haijima was doing, he stealthily glanced at his profile. Haijima, who

had quickly returned to his glasses from contacts, was looking ahead with a

reddened face for some reason. Is he tired…? However, he couldn’t tell

the difference clearly because he always looked like he wasn’t thinking about

anything, surprisingly, except when his club activity switch was on.

That was the only time Haijima made a basic mistake, and

after that it had no effect on him at all, and he went on as usual—or rather,

his level of “usual” was unusual—until the end, but Seiin High School continued

the play and won the two games of the day. They would advance to the semifinals

tomorrow, the final day.

So, they have come to the same place as the prefecturals a

year ago.

It was

as though they were advancing by tracing the road from a year ago. He was

confident that they would break the semifinals this year for sure, and he was

plenty motivated, but—a bad feeling that there was an unexpected trap lying in

wait for them just like a year ago, continued to hover in a corner of his mind.

They

met with the parents who came to support them from Monshiro in the gym’s

parking lot. Kuroba’s mother, Kanno’s mother, Haijima’s grandmother, and Itoko

and Yorimichi were there. The Kannos’ car and the Kurobas’ car (Haijima’s

grandmother seemed to have ridden in the Kurobas’ car) were there, as well as a

light pickup truck. The truck belonged to the relative who transported

provisions to the training camp. The back of the truck was still littered with

vegetable scraps. It seemed that this was the car Yorimichi borrowed to “just drive

around in town” in.

Thank you so much for all your help, Kanno’s mother

thanked Kuroba’s mother reverently. He wondered about the parent of a

second-year being deferential to the parent of a first-year.

It seemed that Itoko had made plans to join with her school

friends from now. An amusement building called Suzumu Play-One was built near

Itoko’s Suzumu City high school recently, and it had a karaoke place, a bowling

alley, and an arcade. It had become a hangout for high schoolers with free time

(by the way, Karaoke Box Monshiro was finally demolished at the start of this

year). No wonder she made her hair into a bun-looking thing on the top of her

head, wore a sleeveless dress-looking thing, and carried a summer vacation-like

basket bag-looking thing. He, on the other hand, had just changed out of his

uniform and was wearing a T-shirt that was already drenched with sweat,

carrying an enamel bag that dug into his shoulders and even a cooler box. He

didn’t mind it though, because he wanted to do it.

“Good job out there, Yuni. You were pretty cool.”

“What do you mean, ‘pretty’ cool? Say I’m ‘super’ cool,

onion head.”

As he

reflexively shot back after being praised with a smile, Itoko took the

initiative to load Kuroba’s luggage into the back of the truck, so he took it

back and threw it up himself.

“You still have the semifinals and finals. You’ll get

carried away if I praise you. Yorimichi? Don’t you have anything to say to

Yuni?”

Itoko’s voice turned a bit angry and she slapped the

driver’s door. “Aah?” Yorimichi, who was sticking his face into the air

conditioner at the driver’s seat, rolled down the window with an annoyed look

on his face.

“Ah, um…how was it…?”

“Doesn’t matter how it was. It was pretty cool at the venue.

I thought it would be hot, so it took a while for me to wanna go there.”

He sloppily leaned against the door with one arm out the

window. Even though he didn’t exercise, his arms were muscular, and they were a

size thicker than Kuroba’s who recently started to work hard at muscle

training. His tank top was tightly stretched over his thick chest. He could

try doing some kind of sport even now…

“Ugh, don’t dodge the question and tell him. You wanted to

see a volleyball game, didn’t you?”

Itoko said, putting her hands on her hips with an

exasperated look on her face.

“Huh!? Yori-chan, you’re interested in volleyball!?”

“No way.”

He had widened his eyes and unintentionally said that with

hope in his voice, but got flatly rejected on the spot.

“I

just wanted to see what you’re so into. You probably found something there you

haven’t told me about…Well, it looks like you’ll be keeping at it for a long

time, so work hard at that.”

“Geez, just be honest!”

Yorimichi withdrew his head from out the window, and Itoko

got angry. But for Kuroba, it was more than enough. Those were Yorimichi-like

words of support. Come to think of it, he wasn’t drinking while watching the

game today. He didn’t come here to make fun of him. He had him understand that

he was doing this seriously. He didn’t know what he was shrivelling from. He

knew that Yorimichi wouldn’t laugh for no reason at the things people

cherished.

That’s why I like Yorimichi…

“…Mm. I will work hard.”

He answered bashfully. Yorimichi was already pretending not

to hear and fiddled with the car radio. “There’s only enka,” he complained.

At that moment, he heard a hoarse scream and something being

struck.

He turned around and saw Haijima and his grandmother next to

the Kurobas’ car. There was more than a head of difference in height between

the grandmother and Haijima, which made her look extremely weak. A dark red

handbag had fallen at her feet, and her wallet and other small items were

scattered across the asphalt.

“Why are you using that without asking me…?”

Haijima

said with a trace of anger in his voice. His grandmother’s small frame shrunk. “W-Why

are you getting so angry all of a sudden? I thought you didn’t want it anymore

since you put it away in the closet…”

“Haijima? What are you doing to your own grandma?”

Confused, Kuroba rushed over as he reproached him. When he

crouched down and was about to pick up the scattered items, the old woman also

hurriedly crouched down and ran her wrinkled little hands over the asphalt to

gather the small items, saying, “Aah, young master, there is no need to do

this.”

He was about to pick up the handbag when his hand stopped.

A dark red schoolbag… This is…

“Don’t touch it.”

Haijima’s hand snatched the bag from over Kuroba’s head.

On his knees and speechless, he looked up at Haijima. The

summer evening sunlight, which was still beating down on them, illuminated

Haijima from behind so he couldn’t see his expression, but he could clearly see

that the bag he was gripping had…that Tokyo middle school’s emblem—the one

Kuroba didn’t know—embroidered on it.

Why…? Along with that question, he felt anger.

You said you weren’t going back, didn’t you? So why do

you still treasure that thing…?

I wonder if I’m hurting right now.

“I

ain’t going back” …Even though I believed in those words I heard at the

training camp, I might be feeling betrayed.

***

He smacked the top of

his alarm clock that ringing shrilly next to his pillow with the palm of his

hand as though he was spiking with all his might. He sluggishly peeled his face

away from his pillow and looked at the digital display of his now-silent clock.

It was 5:05 in the morning.

“Mmm…Gotta get up…”

He had to take the first train in order to get to the

clubroom by the 6:30 meeting time. He had to jump over one city to go to

school, so a roundtrip to school took up quite a lot of time.

“…Five more minutes…”

His consciousness sank the moment he plopped his head down

on the pillow again.

The alarm rang again. He half-consciously hit the clock that

was still under his hand, but it didn’t stop no matter how many times he hit

it. “…Nn?” It wasn’t the alarm. It was another sound. “…My phone…?” Groaning

like a zombie that had risen from the grave, he reluctantly crawled out from

his futon.

The

Kuroba main house was a purely Japanese home, and Kuroba’s room was also a

Japanese-style room with tatami mats and a futon. He could hear muffled ringing

from the enamel bag he had thrown to the foot of his futon. Now he remembered

that he forgot to charge it yesterday before falling asleep.

“Hup.”

As he was waking up, he raised his upper body vigorously in

the manner of a push-up. Midway through, a shiver of pain ran up his back.

“Aaagh,” he groaned and ended up curling his back. He crawled over to his bag

with his hand behind his back. It was a different kind of pain from the muscle

pain he got after practices and games, and his body ached all over, not just

his back. His cheekbone was still throbbing with pain.

He thought that if it gave up halfway and stopped ringing,

he wouldn’t have to answer it. But the ringing spitefully continued until he

reached into his bag and fumbled for his phone.

“Oda-senpai? You’re an early riser.”

When he saw the caller’s name on the display, he thought of

Oda’s face, full of enthusiasm like he had been running in the morning. Oda’s

house was close to the school, so he shouldn’t have to get up as early as

Kuroba.

“Fwah, g’morning…”

“Kuroba, come to school immediately!”

He heard Oda’s voice, refreshing and clear right in the

morning, just like the image in his head.

“…? I’m going there now, but…”

“Come directly to the staff room, not the club room.

Depending on your answer, we…will have to withdraw from today’s game.”

The

sleepiness that had been coiled about his head dissipated at once.

“…What?”

He could only hear Oda’s heavy groans from the speaker.

He thought it was déjà vu from a year ago. No, he really wished

it was just déjà vu.

We’re withdrawing…? From the semifinals?

——Again?

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