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Hitoka is sure she’s going to melt into the grass as she and Nekoma’s first year manager, Akane, lug a giant cooler of sports drink between them, the bottom of its barrel-like structure brushing the tips of the grass. Akane is taller than her, but not by much, so it’s all they can do to keep the cooler off the ground as they move it to prepare for the boys’ return from their sweat-soaked run through the neighborhood.
“Ahhh, it’s so hot,” she declares once the cooler finally makes it to its destination. Hitoka flops into the grass and relishes the little blades and how they’re at just a lower enough temperature from the air to be a relief.
Akane joins her and groans. “Tora always said training camp was like hell. I didn’t realize he meant like actual ‘hotter than walking on the sun’ hell and not metaphorically.”
Nodding as best she can from her prone position, Hitoka says, “This is my third year, and I’m still not used to it. I’m not actually sure I’m alive anymore. Maybe my bones are solar powered and working on their own.”
Giggling, Akane nudges Hitoka’s arm. “Maybe mine are, too. I think my soul left my body at the base of the hill.”
“Yep. That’s where I died.” Hitoka whimpers and lolls her head to the side to look at Akane, but her breath catches when she sees the warm halo of flyaways illuminated by the sunshine. Akane meets her gaze, and neither of them say anything until they hear a loud herd of high school boys thundering over the crest.
Later that evening, the annual barbecue brings the training camp to a close — Hitoka’s last one ever, to be specific. She can see Hinata bidding tearful goodbyes to the friends he’s made over the years with the other teams’ players, and even Kageyama seems wistful as he shakes hands with Shinzen’s third year setter, who is more like Kageyama than Hitoka has thought possible.
However, there is one goodbye that she is not looking forward to at all. And that goodbye finds her first. “Hitoka-san!” Akane jogs up to her and envelops her into a vice-like hug that shouldn’t be possible for someone of her stature. “Come take a walk with me!”
Full of meat and barely able to move, especially after being squashed from the embrace, Hitoka almost begs off, but the plea glittering in Akane’s eye spurs her into a watery, “Sure.”
The two of them head off into the grove of trees surrounding Fukurodani High School, and a short ways up the path, Akane’s hand slips into Hitoka’s and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll miss you, Hitoka-san. Promise you’ll call or text here and there?”
“Of course,” Hitoka chirps, her brain screaming as she notes that her hands are pumping out obscene amounts of sweat that might not be entirely due to the weather. “I’ll definitely keep in touch, Akane-chan. You can count on me.”
“Always knew I could.” Akane stops in the middle of the path, well away from any of the other camp-goers, and fixes her gaze on Hitoka. “This is my last chance to say this, but I really like being with you, Hitoka-san. I wish we had more time.”
A flurry of different ways to interpret those words whirl around in Hitoka’s brain, but the meaning is clear when Akane lists forward and brushes their mouths together for a slight bit of contact that wreaks far more than a slight bit of havoc on Hitoka’s fortitude.
Yet Akane tugs them on, not waiting for or even requiring an answer, and Hitoka is glad. She knows what she wants to say, but maybe Akane realizes even better than Hitoka does that words aren’t always her friend.
It just adds to the list of reasons why Hitoka wants to abscond into the woods and never come back just so this silken little moment, her oasis in the sea of sweat and ache that usually accompanies summer training camp, doesn’t have to end.
But it does, and they eventually meander back to the camp. Only a few people notice that the two of them were even gone, but no one remarks when they show up hand in hand.
When they board the bus to head back to Miyagi, Hitoka pulls out her phone and sends a simple text — a kitty emoji that reminds her of Akane.