Chapter Text
"Hey, Kuroo, give us until the hour before you start barging in."
Nekoma's Girls Volleyball Club Captain playfully scolded the dark-haired boy, jogging over to the gymnasium doors to confront him.
"Hey, I'm a patient man," he held up his hands tauntingly. "Some of us were out early today, decided to swing by and see how the other half are doing."
She rolled her eyes, hands on her hips as she eyed him. Kenma hung back reluctantly behind him, the smaller boy trying best to stay out of view, his eyes averted to the ceiling. Yamamoto, Lev, and Yaku flanked their captain, a mix of friendly and awkward smiles on their faces.
"We're doing fine," she popped her hip. "How about you? Nationals on the horizon?"
"Yep," Kuroo rolled his shoulders back. "And we're feeling good to go! It's gonna be our year, I can feel it."
"What about those Karasuno boys? Real underdogs from what I've heard. They're causing trouble," she smirked. "I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you, Kuroo."
"Oh, don't worry, we're well acquainted. And we know them well enough to know we'll crush them."
His team mates made various noises to signal their agreement, faces sturdy and shoulders steeled.
The captain peered around Kuroo to try to catch Kenma's eye, the smaller boy quiet among the confidence.
"What about you, Kenma?" She asked, a teasing smile on her face. "Ready to crush them?"
Kenma blinked, his detached gaze whirling round to find hers. His face was blank, and he stared for a moment before speaking.
"Huh? Oh yeah. Sure, I suppose." He mumbled.
"Great team spirit!" She smirked again at Kuroo, the boy rolling his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up now, but don't come fan-girling when we wipe the floor at Nationals. If you're nice to me, I might give you a shout-out in our winning interview."
He winked at her.
She scoffed. "Not likely."
A crash sounded behind the group, and the boys winced, whilst the captain grimaced slightly.
Gazes turned to the court, where a girl lay sprawled on the floor. A plastic folding table, and three accompanying chairs lay on their sides around her.
"Sorry!" you called, scrambling to stand up, a mixture of a smile and apologetic twist on your face.
You laughed lightly, looking around at your teammates as you wrung your fingers together.
"Didn't look where I was going!"
Their captain sighed, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine!" You called back, walking quickly back onto the court.
"You don't need to dive like that," a teammate muttered, shaking their head.
"It was so far out, you had no chance! Just leave it!" Another implored.
"Sorry," you said again with a wince. "Thought I might have had a shot."
"At least get some knee pads before you try that again."
Kuroo watched you laugh again, a small and scrawny girl, out of volleyball uniform, dressed in a baggy white t-shirt and black basketball shorts. You rubbed the back of your neck, shaking of your teammates gentle reprimands. He tilted his head.
"Who's that? You got a newbie this late on?"
The captain sighed. "She's a transfer student. We had no intention...well, she rocked up to practice a couple of weeks ago, just wanted to play for fun. Didn't really understand the whole concept of a competing team, it seemed," the captain muttered under their breath. "But, well, the rest of the girls let her play after practice. And...she's pretty damn good. For a novice as well. She's never played as part of a proper team, couldn't even name a position."
Kuroo whistled under his breath, watching you take yourself to the back of the court.
"Why waste your time this late in the season? You've got a good team, sounds like more stress than it's worth."
The captain pursed her lips. "We're rotating her in for a little bit to see how it goes. But like I said, she's damn good at what she does know. She's a bit all over the place, but you should see her keep the ball in play. She knows how to keep that thing off the ground."
The rally started up again, and Kuroo watched as you darted around the back of the court.
"Libero?"
The captain sighed. "She's perfect for it."
"Well, if you think you can get her up to speed, why the long face?" He clicked his tongue.
"Because," the captain huffed. "At the moment she says she doesn't want to compete. Just wants to play it for fun. Which is not what we need right now. And not how any of this works." She threw her arms up in expatriation and Kuroo laughed.
"Never mind, more stress than it's worth. Why are you still hanging onto her?"
"Are you not listening to me?" Her hands were back on her hips, her expression frustrated. "She is too damn good to just let go this quickly."
Kuroo looked up again, watching as you sprinted, dove across the court, catching the edge of the ball with your clasped hands.
"Nice!" Your teammates called out as you scrambled quickly to your feet, up again and on the move.
"Huh," he cocked his head again, "Mind if we stick around to watch?"
The captain frowned, searching his face. "Fine, but we still have fifteen minutes of our time left. I don't want to hear a peep from you whilst practice is still on."
She marched away, and Kuroo laughed, directing his teammates to the folded chairs around the edge of the court.
Kuroo sat with his elbows resting on his thighs, and Kenma slumped in the chair with his arms crossed over his chest, sighing. The other boys sat awkwardly, clearing their throats and fiddling with their hands, as they tried to not to let the effects of being in such close proximity to a room full of girls show on their faces.
Kuroo was intent on watching you, an amused smile on his face all the while. It was true what your captain said. You were good. There seemed to be no fear or hesitation, and you threw your body in any which way to dig the ball. You were fast, light on your feet, quick to recover, and flexible. That being said, it was glaringly obvious that you were a novice to the game. There was little control to your movements, and every technique was messy. You were still learning the rules, and often made rookie mistakes, as well as repeatedly directing the ball to the wrong person. Despite this, you wore an easy smile throughout, laughing lightly, dusting yourself off and getting back into it after each error.
"She is all over the place," Yaku murmured.
"Is that what I looked like when I started out?" Lev questioned anxiously with a tilt of his head.
"But some of those receives are insane," Yamamoto whispered. "It doesn't seem possible for her to get there on time, but she keeps pulling it off."
Kuroo nodded. "The potential is definitely there."
"Why did we have to get here so early again?" Kenma yawned, lolling his head to the side to look at Kuroo with a mildly annoyed expression.
The whistle was called for the end of practice, and the captain made her rounds, patting her teammates on the back and congratulating them on their hard work. She paused to catch Kuroo's gaze, jerking her head towards you, before giving him an so, whatcha' think? look with her eyes.
Kuroo smiled, chuckling lightly, nodding his head.
He waited for a few moments as the girls team packed away. Yaku, Yamamoto, and Lev made a few awkward passes at greetings, attempting to say hello or congratulate the girls, tripping over their words or abruptly avoiding eye contact.
Kuroo waited until your teammates had retreated, watching you stretch out your shins by the back wall, before he stood, walking over with a determined stride.
"Hey."
You looked up, surprised at the low register, wobbling slightly and catching your balance with your palm against the wall. Kuroo towered over you, arms folded across his chest, a small smile on his face.
"Uhh, hello."
"I'm Kuroo, captain of the boy's volleyball team," he introduced himself smoothly. "Heard you've just recently joined up."
"Uh, not really, not officially I mean. I'm just playing some games with them," you spoke nonchalantly, stretching out your shoulders as Kuroo watched you. "Just having fun."
"Well, this is competitive sport. You can't be on the team and not be expected to compete."
You grimaced slightly. "Yeah, I know. That's why I'm not joining the team."
"But you're good,"
You blinked again, surprised at the cool admission. You paused, unraveling your limbs from their stretches, looking up at him curiously.
"Oh. Thanks."
"I mean, there's still a lot that needs to be worked on. You're kind of a hot mess out there. But I'm sure you know that."
You shrugged, unperturbed by his words. "I'm just having fun."
"Which is fine and dandy. But you can't play on a team just for a fun. There's gotta be some fight to it."
You clicked your tongue. "That's not really want I'm going for right now."
Kuroo observed for a few moments, the cogs in his brain turning.
"Okay, how about this. Come practice with us."
You couldn't hide the surprise on your face, your astonished gaze staring up at him.
"On the boy's team? Uhh, I don't think that's allowed."
"Just practice," Kuroo elaborated. "We have about forty minutes of warm up practice before our coach shows up and the real hard word begins. I can't get you in on that fun, unfortunately." He flashed her a grin. "But you can chip in for a bit with us at the start. Just an easy rally. No stakes. No expectations. No pressure. Just what you want. Some fun."
You hesitated, a furrow between your brow as you shifted on your feet.
"I don't know. Why are you so insistent?" Your curiosity turned into suspicion as you faced him.
He grinned.
"Like I said, I think you're good. You're not gonna last here much longer if you don't join the team, and joining ours isn't an option so there's no problem there. You want to have fun, we're always looking for more characters to practice with. Any change in the tempo of the game is good for us. And you can learn some new tricks whilst you're at it. Sounds like a win-win to me."
You bit your lip, a pool of anxiety in your stomach. You couldn't help but think there were ulterior motives to the kind offer, and you weren't all too thrilled about playing with a group of boys you didn't know. It had been hard enough to settle your nerves approaching the girls.
"Just try it out once and see how it goes. I 'aint holding you to anything here. Come on," his deep voice lilted. "Whatcha' got to lose?"
You shifted on your feet again, watching the last stream of girls leave the hall, their arms around each other in camaraderie. It wasn't what you wanted, and you knew their captain was losing patience with you. But damn, did you want to keep playing.
"Okay," you breathed out quickly, nodding your head. "I'll give it a shot. Just once."
The Nekoma boys team had not known quite how to react as Kuroo ushered you onto the court, presenting you with a sweep of an arm and proclaiming that you were tagging along for practice.
You had stood awkwardly, a weary smile on your face and a small wave of your hand.
They had greeted you clumsily in return, confused, some annoyed glances thrown Kuroo's way, a murmur of "why are we letting a chick join the practice?" Kenma was the only one to remain seemingly unperturbed as you had passed by him and said hello.
He barely looked up at you, a second of a glance as he walked passed.
"Yeah. Hi."
"Don't mind him," Kuroo had laughed. "He's not the chatty type."
The team split up on the court, and began their lighthearted warm-up game. Kuroo had placed you on the opposite team, and the boys had thrown you weary looks as you took your position in the back of the court. It proved a good decision for Kuroo, as it became obvious he was the only one willing to send serves your way, the rest of the team trying their best not to involve you.
But as practice got underway, the team began to understand Kuroo's insistence. He made his serves harder, sending them your way more force, putting a nasty spin on their trajectory. You didn't let up, diving across the floor and flinging your body in any way needed to maintain contact with the ball. The tension in the air shifted, the awkwardness dissipating slightly, making room for the team to feel their usual competitive spirit, despite the unusual addition.
They all witnessed and observed your raw skill, becoming more assured in their decisions to aim for you, to attack with more force, or to try a subtle maneuvers to trip you up. But you were fast, you didn't hesitate, and approached every serve as if it was match-point, lunging for it with maximum effort. Despite this, it was also glaringly apparent how chaotic your approach was, and how new to the game you were. There wasn't any technical thought behind your movements, and you often made mistakes that set your teammates up for a weaker rebound, putting the whole at a disadvantage. You had even tried to set for the spiker in front of the 3-meter line, causing incongruous and baffled stares from the boys around you.
But you had maintained an easy air throughout, a smile through the fatigue, and an unbothered countenance every time you lost a point.
By the end of the practice, you were exhausted, in a way that felt delicious and ironically invigorating.
The boys, having warmed to your presence, now threw you easy and friendly smiles, small murmurs of congratulations for a game well fought.
Kuroo had jogged up to you quickly as the team stretched out before their coach arrived.
"So, how was that?"
You were bouncing on your toes, an electric energy pulsating through you.
"I had a good time," you nodded eagerly. "You were right. It was fun."
"Looked like it!" He chuckled. "You got some real guts out there, you know that? And it did us good, having a new part thrown into the mix. It keeps us guessing, makes us change up some routines we may be relying on too much. Makes us work in a different way."
You nod in understanding, replaying some of the game in your mind as you had watched from the back, the steady, unwavering way the team seemed to interact with each other.
"You guys work well together."
Kuroo nodded, a beaming smile of pride on his face. "They're a good bunch. And you weren't too disastrous as a spare part. You've got a lot of work to do though, a whole lot to catch up on. You make a lot of rookie mistakes. That set attempt was hilarious though, seriously!" He laughed loudly, recalling the awkward moment.
You play with your fingers, trying to shrug off his words.
"I never learnt the rules when I used to play. None of that mattered. And I'm not too concerned about catching up with anyone. Like I said, I just...play." You shrugged.
Kuroo eyed you for a moment, his brows slightly furrowed.
"How did you ever play with no rules? What idiot taught you?"
"Three idiots to be exact," you held up three fingers as you spoke. "My older brothers."
Kuroo let out a small, amused exhale of breath.
"A single parent who was always having to work odd hours can only call for sibling babysitting. I'm the youngest, my older brothers often got stuck with looking after me. I guess you can imagine how well that went. They only ever wanted to hang out with their friends, but I always had to tag along. And of course, I wanted to be included in everything. They played volleyball at the park. I guess their version. With their friends. And I never wanted to just sit and watch. They always looked like they were having fun.I wanted to join. Of course, their friends didn't want a kid on their team, and my brothers weren't too jazzed about it either.But they said I could join in, under one condition," you smiled up at Kuroo. "I couldn't let the ball touch the ground."
His smile broke across his face as he listened to the story, understanding coming over him as he nodded.
"Ah ha! The pieces are coming together now."
"So yeah. It was a free-for-all. There weren't any positions or names for anything. All I knew was that the ball went over the net. And when the ball was on our side, I couldn't let it touch the ground. Those were the only rules my brothers ever taught me." You shrugged, rolling out your shoulders and sniffing.
"It's an interesting approach to say the least, bit it sure does explain a lot." Kuroo mused, twisting his mouth as he considered his next works.
"Look, you not a conventional player by any means, but what you've got can be worked on. You really should consider joining the girl's team. They could use a libero like you. Especially when their defense is their weakest link. It's a good opportunity for you all."
You were unable to hide the grimace on your face. "I appreciate the kind words, but as I said, no thanks. I'm not looking to play as a team. I just want to have a good time."
"It's a team sport," Kuroo laughed lightly. "I would say that's most of the fun of it."
"I just mean..." you sigh, trying to find your words, the subject now delving into uncomfortable territory. You barely knew this boy, but despite his demanding and domineering nature, you felt a sincerity radiating from him, an energy that had you saying more than you intended, unable to catch yourself. "I mean an official team like this. I'm not interested in the competitive side of it. I don't want...that pressure."
You managed to choose your words carefully, as Kuroo eyed you closely.
"Hey, competing doesn't mean it's all about the pressure. It's a mixture of a lot of things, and depending on your perspective, can be a lot more fun than it is stressful. You should at least give it a go. It's not like school pressure or any of that crap. It's different when it comes to sports.
"I know what it means to compete in a sport, actually. It might not have been volleyball but I've competed enough over the years to know what it feels like," You spoke a bit too quickly and sharply, averting your eyes. "And I'm over it. I just need to let myself have fun."
He blinked, slightly taken aback, before cleared his throat.
"Sorry, I don't mean to get on at you."
You shook your head. "It's fine. It's just...I need a break from anything like that."
He nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets as he waited in silence, not wanting to push any further.
"Okay," he nodded finally, clicking his tongue, his easy smirk back on his face. "Just fun then. Sure. We can do that."
He jabbed his thumb to his chest, flashing his teeth as he grinned down at you.
"You had fun practicing with us tonight. So the invitation is open again, for whenever suits you. No pressure. No stress. Just join in."
You pursed your lips, feeling slightly weary again, an uneasy prickling on your skin as you considered how much you had already let this dark-haired boy know.
"I still don't understand why you're so insistent."
"Well, at first, I thought it was a waste of talent. But I think I've reconsidered my perspective."
He smiled.
"I think its a waste if anyone isn't given an opportunity to just simply do something they love doing."
That was how you began to practice with the Nekoma boys. Three out of five weekdays you would finish up your classes, hang around to study or participate in one of the extracurricular clubs you were attending for credits, rather than for any enjoyment or passion, before heading over to the gym to catch their warm-up game before their coach arrived. You had even taken to tagging along to the informal Saturday sessions, your mother peering at you over the cup of her coffee as you woke early and scrambled for your gym clothes, waving a quick goodbye and heading out the back door on your bike.
The team warmed up to you quickly, your presence familiar and welcomed. The awkwardness that had hang between you all for the first few sessions had all but vanished, save for one or two moments. The boys, who had once watched you in a panic, were able to rid themselves of their dumbstruck attitude towards a girl simply existing in their space, and began to see you as an amusing, honorary member of their team. Your presence became less invading, and more expected.
You grew closer to Kuroo, not enough to see him much outside of the games, or to speak to him about much else than volleyball, but an amicable and easy friendship formed. You grew comfortable enough to lightly tease each other, and there were even instances of you scolding him when he would make a dramatic scene upon seeing you in the hallways. The girls in your class would stare, wide-eyed, and fall into hushed whispers at the sight of an upperclassman paying such attention to a freshman.
The rest of the group were cordial towards you, and to everyone's surprise, you struck up an odd dynamic with Kenma. The long-haired boy, who had hardly glanced in your direction, had done a double-take the day you turned up to practice sporting your eldest's brothers old t-shirt, a faded retro print from an almost forgotten video game. He had quickly questioned you about it, and the two of you had sunk into a long conversation about video games, where you explained your brother's influence on your taste, and held good-natured disagreements. The team had rarely ever seen him look so animated. Kenma also found a quality in you that was refreshing. Okay, so he didn't understand your unreserved delight when playing volleyball, but he appreciated your nonchalant attitude towards winning, the smile on your face and careless shrug of your shoulders when you lost. And sure, you didn't really talk about much else than video games, but the quiet boy from then on would always welcome you with a nod, and when you weren't speaking, the silence was compatible, rather than awkward.
The weeks stretched on in this manner. You continued to shrug off Kuroo's playful attempts to push you and challenge you on the court. He would always praise you and congratulate you on new skills learnt, and the quick progress you were already making.
You would always shrug, shaking your head lightly.
"It doesn't matter to me."
You were having fun, the most fun you had had in years. The points didn't matter to you. There was never any stakes. You never spared a second thought to your skills or capabilities.
You just wanted to have fun. And you had finally found that.
Kuroo had approached you after a long weekday afternoon session, where he had asked you to stick around to talk. He wore an almost guilty expression on his face.
"Hey, so, with Nationals in a couple of week's time, we're changing up our training schedule, right after this weekend. Its a bummer, but coach doesn't want you at the practice anymore, not until after Nationals."
You blinked, trying not to let the disappointment show on your face, but feeling it sink across your body. It was understandable though, and you had already felt like you were maybe encroaching on their generosity.
"No, it's okay," you said quickly, nodding. "I get it."
"We still have 'till the end of the week."
You smiled. "It's important. Don't worry about me."
"And after we crush at Nationals," Kuroo pounded his fist into his palm to exaggerate his words. "You're free to come play with the champions."
He winked at you, and your smile was weak in return.
"You'll do great."
He nodded. "I know. We all feel really good about it this year. We're all ready. We've never played better. I've never been so excited about a competition before,"
You pursed your lips.
"Look, you've taken this year easy, and you've really got the hang of this game," Kuroo continued. "Next year, you should really consider the girls' team. They'd be lucky to have you."
His words were suddenly sincere, and you shifted awkwardly.
"Kuroo, I appreciate it, really. But it's not for me," you sighed, feeling a pressure in your chest, wanting to keep the words bottled up, wanting for him to stop looking at you with such pressing eyes. "I've done the competing thing enough already. I had a short-lived, but long enough, gymnastics career. Competitions have plagued me since I was a young kid, and it was only in the last few years I realized how much they were making me miserable. I quit, and never looked back. And I've never felt better. I'm not going into it, but I know this is the right way forward for me. So please, please just understand that and let it go, okay?"
Kuroo blinked, surprised by the sudden admission. He swallowed, a flash of guilt across his face.
"Yeah, yes, I'm sorry, okay? I'm really sorry. Put my foot in it. I get ya. I'll drop it from now on, okay? I promise. Hey, we don't even have to talk about Nationals. Nationals who? Never heard of 'em." His voice was playful, his smile a mixture between warm and apologetic.
You smiled appreciatively back. "We can talk about Nationals, it's fine Kuroo. And like I said, you're gonna do great."
You inhaled heavily, your eyes lingering over the team as they cooled down, huddled together, arms slung over shoulders, laughter and pats on the backs, a tangible bond between them that made your stomach twist.
"I better get going then," you smiled at Kuroo. "So if I don't see you before Nationals, good luck, okay? And make sure to have fun."
He saluted you. "Wouldn't dream of having anything other than a blast."
As if you had felt it in the air that day, a shift, a taste of something foreboding, you didn't see Kuroo, or any of the Nekoma boys before Nationals.
In fact, you never saw them again.
That weekend, your mother received a call from a hospital to say your grandmother had been found unconscious and was in critical condition. You and your mother had taken the train that very hour to travel to the rural, sleepy, beach-side town your grandmother resided in. It was the worst twenty-four hours of your life. Your mother spent it anxiously pacing back and forth in the hospital corridors as you sat silently on a plastic chair, a paper cup of stale, cold coffee clutched between your hands. Your brothers had arrived that evening, having dropped their own obligations and come together from their own corners of Japan, their presence somewhat comforting. But they were unable to do much to calm the nerves of your mother, or ease the pit of dread in your stomach.
Your grandmother had pulled through, but was very sick, having suffered a massive stroke. She would need round-the-clock care.
Your brothers, all very much stuck in the next chapter of their lives, attending college or with families of their own, were unable to sacrifice that much time. It was up to your mother to make the decision, to up haul her life, and yours, after having only recently moved to the city, and to move in with your grandmother and care for her. You and your mother were the only family she had left.
You only returned back to the city to collect your things, solemnly packing up your belongings into cupboard boxes. You were not able to return to say goodbye.
Within a week of your grandmother's collapse, you had officially moved into her small beach-side house, and been enrolled in the nearest high school, a dilapidated building only a quarter of the size of Nekoma High. The first few months were the most difficult, your mother stretched thin between caring for your grandmother, and picking up part-time nursing shifts at the local hospital. You balanced your school work and picked up the slack wherever you could, tending to your grandmother when your own mother was at work, or when the exhaustion had her slumped asleep in her chair, the circles under her eyes purple and etched in deep.
But things gradually got better. Your grandmother was recovering well, and her progress suddenly spiked, the doctors amazed with the rapid improvement that kicked in after the six month mark. She was talking again, feeding herself, and was strong another to walk around the house. As she improved, you and your mother were able to take a breath. Your mother began working more regular shifts, and didn't have to keep picking up the soul sapping night-time hours. You were able to concentrate more on your schoolwork, and even pick up a part-time job to help with expenses.
Your grandmother's health continued to improve, to the point of complete independence, but the anxiety and paranoia still hovered over your mother. You finished up the next three years of high school in that small, sleepy town. To your surprise, once things had settled, the abrupt and scary move had proven to be a much needed respite for you too. You were able to take things slower in your grandmother's company. Long walks on the beach, time spent over big meals, deeper and tender discussions in the late-night hour, your grandmother imparting her life philosophy onto you. It had been a wake-up call for you to prioritize your own health.
There was no volleyball team at your new high-school, and you had taken to biking half an hour out to the nearest gym and wrangling your way into practicing with any team that had the patience for you. You became a familiar face there, despite never joining a team. Instead, you partnered up with a wide variety of people of all ages, groups in their twenties and thirties, kids aged between ten and twelve. All the while, you remained consistent in your attitude.
Winning never mattered.
Progress was not something you played for.
You only ever intended to play for as long as you were having fun.
Sometimes your chest would squeeze suddenly, and your stomach would fold in on itself as you recalled your fond times with the Nekoma boys. You had never struck up any close relationships with anyone in your new town, and never had the same dynamic with any of the volleyball teams. You remembered their infectious spirit and enthusiastic banter, thought fondly of Kuroo's playful smile and ever considerate manner, Kenma's subtle greetings and quiet voice, the light-hearted teasing, mostly at Lev's expense. There were things you didn't hold to much regard at the time, and were things you never realized you would miss.
There had been one time, after months of foggy days and long nights, when things had began to clear and you finally felt like your feet were planted on the ground again, when the thought of Nationals had suddenly hit you square in the chest.
You had pulled out your phone, hastily typing the words 'Nekoma' and 'Spring Nationals' into Google. You scrolled down quickly, trying to find a clear source in the barrage of school names and scores that meant little to you.
You blinked as you found what you were looking for.
Nekoma had lost to Karasuno.
You were surprised at the sensation you felt upon reading that fact, as if your stomach had dropped to your feet.
You finished up high school, and your grandmother had seemingly never been in such good health. Your mother, finally able to relent in her obsessive anxiety, had presented you with an option.
She had been offered a steady nursing position at a hospital in a town near by. It was inland, deep in the countryside, but not as rural as your current location. It was half an hour to your grandmother's by train, and there was a university nearby. Living at home and commuting, instead of moving out for college, would save you money, and you would still be close to your grandmother, something you so desperately wanted after spending so much time with her. You worked hard at school, but had no real academic passion or interest, and no solid direction of where you wanted life to take you. Where you wanted to study, and what you wanted to study was not something you wanted to agonize over. It had never felt like the defining decision that your peers around you made it out to be. You happily agreed to the offer, keen to stay out of any bubbles or pressure or expectations for as long as life would allow it.
And so, you were content with your new house in a small neighborhood, overlooking fields and beaten down roads. You were grateful to be close to your grandmother, to take the train over every other weekend to see her. You were happy to see your mother at ease, enjoying her work and building her own place within the local community. And you were pleased enough with your university life, the quiet campus, the courses you studied that were enough to pique your interest.
The key ingredient that was missing was of course, volleyball.
There were no local gyms that would let you participate without officially joining a team. There were no parks to practice in, no where could you find any recreational means to weasel your way into a game.
With your tail between your legs, you asked if you could practice with the girl's volleyball team at your university.
You were met with the same reply.
You couldn't practice unless you were a member of the club.
You had remained stubborn for a little while longer, holding out, practicing by yourself, engaging in other psychical activities to try to quell the itch under your skin. Cycling, running, swimming, even rollerskating. But it was always there, buried deep beneath the surface, out of reach from your prying fingers.
You had thought of your time at Nekoma again, a nostalgic, wistful thought after nearly four years away.
It had driven you to finally scribble your name on the dotted line of the sign-up sheet.
You hadn't expected much.
You had reluctantly anticipated what being part of a team would mean. You had bolstered yourself up for the routine and commitment and pressure. But it was a small university, in a small town, a name lost on people's lips, a name easily forgotten.
You had thought friendly matches with nearby universities would be the extent of your team's competitive trajectory.
You had hoped.
But your team had molded into something special.
Most of the girls on your team had lived in the town all their life, and had known each other since they were young. Volleyball was not something they had come into at college, but something they had played together since they were kids. It was something to do in a town that didn't provide much else. They had dedicated most of their life to the sport.
They were good.
Very good.
They were a cohesive and communicative team. A lot of the girls were naturally athletic, and they had a surprising number of taller players, something harder to come across in womens' teams. They were a giant puzzle in which all the pieces were accounted for, and smoothly fit together.
The only piece that was missing had, unwittingly, been filled by you.
The team had been searching for a libero, a position not many wanted to play, a position not many had the stamina and spirit for.
And so when you had shown up for first practice, and began to dive across the floor, digging up every serve and working relentless to keep the ball in the air, all with an easy smile on your face, the coach had made it her mission to keep her hands on you.
The team was finally complete.
And finally ready to make a name for themselves.
And so, despite what you had assumed, and despite what you had wanted, volleyball for you had suddenly changed.
You were in your second year of university, your second year of volleyball.
And the competition was on.