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If there was anything volleyball third years feared more than exams and graduation, it was the run up to nationals. Training was twice as intense anyways, but since it was their last chance, the third years took the brunt of it and were trained four times as intensely as usual. It was enough to make anyone lose their minds.
Groaning, Konoha collapsed onto the grassy hill just outside their gymnasium, legs aching and shaking too much to make the final few meters inside and to the volleyball net. He hated suicide runs, especially when it was a competition. Komi snickered as he caught up, jogging on the spot next to Konoha’s fallen body.
“The Jack of all Trades has just become your Average Joe!”
“Stop calling me English names!”
“Then get up, you soggy washcloth.”
“What kind of insult is that!?”
“One for a loser~.” That said Komi sprints inside and over to the net, to join where Bokuto was already breathing heavily, flat on the volleyball court floor. Groaning, Konoha weakly pushes himself to his feet, stumbling at first from how much they ache. He’s pretty sure they’re not actually there anymore, and he’s just standing on TV static.
“Ah, there’s Konoha.”
“So he is.” He’d recognise those snarky voices anywhere, bracing himself against the outside wall of the gym so he doesn’t fall down in front of them. Sarukui and Akaashi slow from their carefully paced jogging to a walk. The second years smirks at him. Smirks!
“I did suggest taking it easy, Konoha-senpai.”
“He’s the idiot who wanted to race Bokuto. We could all foresee this.” Akaashi points at Konoha, who’s knees still tremble as his muscles protest any movement.
“All?”
“Oh, fuck off. You can’t blame me for trying! I’ve got to beat him at least once.”
“The only way you’ll ever do that is if Bokuto has a distraction.” Akaashi nods in agreement with Sarukui, sipping from his water bottle.
“Akaashi!” The garbled call of his name has him poke his head around the door, spotting Bokuto standing by the benches, a ball in hands.
“One moment, Bokuto-san.” He looks at Konoha and Sarukui as if asking to be excused, and it’s only when they nod that he departs, jogging to the volleyball net to complete his warm up exercise and then moving over to setter’s position to run some drills with Bokuto.
“Need some help getting to the finish line?”
“Don’t be an asshole. I can make it just fine.” Konoha smacks away the hand offered to him, Sarukui laughing as he walks in through the gym doors. Too many times, he’d offered Konoha ‘help’, only to drop him.
“Bokuto-san, no! That’s not-! Your... Thermos...” Oh no. Oh no no no. That’s not a good sign. Since it was the last week before nationals, the team were allowed to bring in a thermos of whatever drink they chose to keep themselves going.
Most people brought coffee. Bokuto, who wasn’t allowed coffee, brought Hot Chocolate. So if Bokuto had the wrong thermos...
“What sweet hell has been unleashed on us today, fate?” Muttering to the sky, Konoha sighs and forces himself into the gym on his tired, spaghetti legs. He manages to make it over to the net before sinking to the ground, letting the cold floor chill the sweat pooling on his back. He peels open one eye to watch as Komi sadly holds his empty thermos, Bokuto apologising over and over again.
“Alright boys, gather round.” Their coach claps his hands from the side of the gym, interrupting Shirofuku and Suzumeda in the corner. They jog over to the bench, passing out towels for the exhausted boys to wipe their sweat off with.
“... I count 5 of you. Where are the other two?”
“Nurses office. Onaga tripped over and smashed his face into the pavement, so Washio made sure he’s getting treated.” The coach grumbles, tapping the clipboard with his pen.
“That puts a damper on the plan for today...”
“Plan?” Akaashi looks questioningly to Shirofuku, who casually shrugs.
“Not that we can do it anymore, but we were gonna have a 6 V 1 where the person on the other side of the net constantly rotates.”
“That sounds exhausting.” Konoha says, just as Sarukui mutters;
“Sounds fun.”
“We should still do it!” All eyes turn to their captain. Bokuto puffs out his chest with pride, eyes gleaming, and he almost shakes with caffeinated energy. Komi tilts his head in confusion.
“How? There’s only 5 of us here.”
“So we’ll do 4 V 1! We’ll just have to be quicker!” The silent begging of the less enthusiastic members goes completely unheard as the coach put his clipboard on the side, clapping his hand jubilantly.
“Well then! Bokuto, start of on this side of the net, the rest of you, on that side. Try not to make it too easy.” A chorus of regretful groans comes in reply, drowned out by Bokuto’s whoop of joy, and they send him subtle glares as they get into position. Don’t make it too easy... Yeah, right. The third years collectively agree that when it’s Bokuto on the other side of the net, since he got them into this, it should definitely be harder.
“I’ll serve the ball in, try and keep it going for as long as possible.” The coach stands behind the line on Bokuto’s side of the court, and with a simple overarm serve, puts practice into motion. Bokuto watches the ball like a hawk as Komi receives it, sending it to Akaashi, and Akaashi sets to Sarukui. With energy overflowing, Bokuto lunges for the spike, receiving it cleanly with enough power to send it straight back over the net like he’s supposed to.
“Bokuto, run to the other side, Sarukui, take his place. Komi, Konoha, rotate positions on court to make room for Bokuto.”
“Yes, Sir!” Shuffling about, Bokuto takes up the position of Wing Spiker on the back line, Konoha moving to the centre as a middle blocker, and Komi stepping backwards spike from the other side. Sarukui moves to centre court across the net.
“Konoha!” Akaashi calls his name, and Konoha clicks his tongue in annoyance as he jumps for the quick, no having been prepared at all. He would have thought, since Akaashi could tell his legs and lungs were still aching, that the toss would have gone to Komi. He catches a glimpse of Akaashi’s smirk as he lands again.
“You-! That was an asshole, move, Akaashi!”
“Just checking you were still awake, Konoha-san.”
“You’re such a little shit.” The corners of Akaashi’s lips twitch into a devilish grin and it pisses Konoha off more that he doesn’t even try and deny it.
“Akaaaaashi! Why didn’t you toss to me?! I wanted to do a back attack! I was right here!” And that, Konoha thinks, is the reason Bokuto is not allowed coffee.
Because it turns him into a noisy, spoiled brat.
“My apologies, Bokuto-san. I’ll toss to you when you’re wing spiker on the next rotation.” Bokuto pouts, bottom lip jutting out petulantly. Snickering, Konoha moves around the court so that he’s the Wing Spiker, Komi the lone player on the other side. Solo side, Konoha takes to calling it in his head.
“Service!” The ball is served again, since Konoha’s delayed quick resulted in the ball falling far too forwards for Sarukui to receive.
Bokuto receives it, Akaashi sets, and Bokuto makes a sound of frustration when it doesn’t go to him, but instead to Konoha again. Konoha, who glares at Akaashi’s smug smirk. Sometimes, their second year gets like this, a little too playful for Konoha’s liking. He’s pushing them, testing to see if their endurance has increased. And his target right now is Konoha.
“I thought you said you were going to toss to me!”
“When you’re Wing Spiker, yes. You were in the Middle Blocker position.” Bokuto harrumphs, an almighty sound of irritation, and Akaashi’s eye twitches. If this carries on, Bokuto might get a slap instead of a set. That would be funny to see.
“Is Bokuto-senpai... Okay?” Konoha pauses by the net pole, stopping to take his thermos from Suzumeda, who watches with concern. A quick sip, and then Konoha nods. He points to the petulant teenager with a dry expression.
“This is why we don’t let Bo have coffee.” Suzumeda raises a confused eyebrow, lips pursed.
“Because he wants to spike? That doesn’t seem any different from usual.”
“No. Because he’s like a tempest. His moods shift much quicker, and they’re much more intense. Right now, he’s acting like a brat.”
“Oh.” Taking the thermos Konoha passes back, Suzumeda steps back to let him dart onto the court. She’ll see what he means about Bokuto’s moods in a second, depending on if Konoha can save the spike. It’s going to hurt, he knows that much.
“Service.” He watches as the ball flies over him, Sarukui receiving it cleanly, and as Akaashi thanks him for the receive, he sets to Bokuto like promised. A raging storm with too much energy, thundering with need to be the centre of attention, their Ace slams the ball with all he has.
Konoha attempts to receive it, but the impact leaves him shaking his arms out, pretty sure they’re reddening, muttering ‘ow’ under his breath multiple times. The ball soars over the net, over the other side of the court, and bounces way beyond the back line.
Out.
Well, it was worth a try.
Having watched the ball fall, Bokuto shuffles his feet. Stares at his red palm. And then he leaps into the air like he’s made of helium, spread like a star, shrieking a jubilant cry of such excitement, that Konoha can’t help but smile even as he rolls his eyes.
“Didja see that Akaashi?! Did you see how hard I hit it?! That was a super straight! Super!!!!” He keeps hopping in space, bouncing on his toes, leaning forwards like he’s seeking praise. Akaashi nods.
“I did, Bokuto-san. Please continue the hard work.” Rubbing at the developing bruise on his forearms, Konoha slinks round to the team side of the net as Bokuto whoops with glee and bounces back to solo side.
“Nice job keeping him happy.”
“Thank you. Komi-senpai did warn me something like this would happen, should Bokuto ever have coffee.”
“All we have to do now is hope he burns off all that caffeine before class.” They glance at Bokuto, stepping side to side impatiently, like a dog waiting for a stick to be thrown. Akaashi muffles a laugh.
“I’m not sure we’ll be able to tell when the coffee does burn off~.”