Chapter Text
Volleyball. Two teams rally a ball back and forth over the net dividing the court in half. The ball must not be dropped, nor may it be held during play. A ball game where three volleys are connected into one attack.
“What a beautiful toss by number seven!” was what the television announcer said.
The “All Japan High School Volleyball Championship Tournament” The ones competing were Torino town’s “Karasuno High School”. Jostling against a 190cm tall wall, one, a setter, ruled over the court. One after the other, the points piled up. I remember… How I shivered… At the sight of the toss he sent.
The setter tosses the ball to the other side of the court. It makes a beautiful arc in the air before meeting the palm of the spiker. With a loud impact, the ball hits the ground.
About three years and three months ago.
Kageyama Tobio, Yukigaoka Junior High School, 3rd year volleyball team captain.
It’s feverish, he thinks. He couldn’t tell you exactly what makes it so exiting, after all, it’s just a gymnasium, in a small town. Dozens of players scramble to get ready to play, maybe for the last time. Some of these players will leave devastated, regretting their lack of practice. Some will advance, without stopping, until they are the only ones left, or they will be beaten later, by those who will win.
Kageyama walks down the hallway, looking and evaluating the other teams as they pass by. He’s made it. He’s here. Finally.
It feels like a dream. One second, he’s looking at this amazing setter on the TV outside the electronics store, the next he’s standing at the starting line of his own tournament.
Alongside him are his friends, Izumi and Koji.
“Wow, Yama-Yama, it’s rare seeing you this exited.” Koji says with a smirk.
“What are you, some country hick?” Izumi adds.
“We’re finally here.” says Kageyama, slowly grinning.
“For three years, I’ve watched, but, finally, we’re here.” he adds.
“That’s right, until now, you couldn’t come participate. Well, in the beginning you were the only member, tough.” Koji adds.
Izumi, with the same pensive expression, adds, “That’s true, he really persevered, being the only one.”
His thinking is interrupted by Izumi, affectionately hitting his shoulder, “Hey Captain, it’s nearly time to start warming up, get out of your head and tell us what to do!”
“That’s right! Since we were dragged here suddenly, and we don’t really know the rules or anything!” exclaimed Koji.
Straightening himself up, Kageyama answers nervously, “Of course, idiots! I know what to do!”
“We’re finally in a tournament, so we have to win it all!” he shouted, now looking focused as ever.
Surprised, Izumi answers, “What?! You’re thinking of winning with this impromptu, amateur team?”
With a look as if it’s the most certain thing in the world, Kageyama replies, “If we don’t believe it ourselves, how can our playing be at its best?”
Izumi and Koji look at each other, “Well I guess you are that kind of person.”
Ignoring their usual antics, Kageyama continues his word, “Izumi, Koji. Thanks for coming to help.”
“Quit that! You’re making this awkward!” is shouted by Koji in embarrassment, while Izumi exclaims softly, “We’re one step closer to the end of the tournament, huh.”
As if a cue, around him, whispers started echoing ---
“Yukigaoka Junior High.”
“Aren’t they fighting the favourites? What a pitiful team, facing Kitagawa Daiichi at the start.”
“A no name school suddenly against the championship’s favourite? What bad luck.”
“Speaking of the devil, there they are.”
A line of tall players, donning a navy blue and white jersey, stroll around, making space for themselves with their aura.
“Ah, look! That’s him, isn’t it? The one we were talking about. The ‘imperial ace’, Hinata Shouyou.”
“Him? Even though he’s so short?”
The gossiping players take a step back when the ace in question fixes his cold glare on them.
“Uh? What’s with the whole ‘imperial’ business?
“He’s the best spiker in the prefecture, a top-tier Ace!”
Suddenly above his head, Kageyama hears the cheering section come alive, as their chants echo on the court. It’s overwhelmingly loud.
“Get out of the way if you’re just going to stand there!” Before he could find out, someone rudely shoves him out of the way.
Standing just under 160cm, with a look that could kill a bear, hair orange as fire and the deepest scowl on his face is the culprit.
“Scary.” mutters Izumi.
Koji is panicking, the three first years are looking to their captain for reassurance. Izumi just got even paler, if that was possible.
Koji exclaims, “Wait a minute, those guys are our opponents?! Are they seriously Junior high students?”
Everything falls into a blur, he remembers falling to the side with his team, intimidated against his will.
Kageyama goes to fill their water bottles, hoping to relieve his own nerves in the process. He hears some of the players from Kitagawa Daiichi talking about them.
Badmouthing them.
He goes up to them, arms crossed, and stares down at them. It’s not enough that they clearly aren’t taking this seriously, but to have the gall to speak behind their back is worse.
“Are you even on the bench?” he asks.
“Do you ride your own school’s coattail while not even playing and badmouth other players who are actually playing?” his voice is cold, tense.
They clearly are about to piss themselves when a new challenger enters the arena. The vivid orange air and the heavy aura is accompanied by slow and confident footsteps. He opens his mouth, snarling, “Oi, second years.”
They’re already pale, but when they hear the voice behind them, the second years look transparent for a few seconds.
Clearly the orange-haired boy isn’t finished, because he coldly orders them to hurry up and come down for the official warmup. He then turns his face sideways for Kageyama to see the most vivid eyes he’s ever seen.
“As if a beast was looking up at me.” he would later recount.
It seems as if suddenly, he is in the jungle, in front of the king.
Kageyama is familiar with pressure. He’s felt it every day before discovering volleyball. The feeling that if he didn’t do something, the negative energy would consume him. But this, this is something else.
He isn’t scared tough.
The other boy looks him up and down, then asks, “Are you here just to make memories?”
The warmups feel like a dream.
After a particularly powerful spike down the middle, Izumi exclaims in awe, “This guy, their ace. He’s the only one taking us seriously.”
Kageyama can feel it, the player in front of him is good. He knows it, of course, everyone and their mothers are talking about this guy like he’s a hot shot. But it’s different when he can see it for himself.
Hinata Shouyou has the jumping power, the technique, the arm strength and the willpower. More than that, he’s the pillar of his team. It’s obvious, when one of the practice balls is hit a little off, and the setter immediately looks for him before realizing he’s not there.
There is one thing clear, however. The guy cannot work in a team. It’s the shouting that makes it clear.
As if in cue, he can hear him, “I told you to get me the ball much quicker, dammit!”
Behind him, Izumi, always the reliable narrator, comments, “How scary… he may be good, but he can’t work with his team at all.”
Once again, he exclaims, “Your timing’s slow!”
The coach seems to finally intervene, giving a few choice words of advice to the ace, “Hinata. You’re fussing too much over the speed. Your setter is trying to get you the ball that is the easiest for you to hit. If the set is too fast, you won’t have time for a battle in mid-air.”
The coach looks over with doubts when Hinata answers, “I know that!”
They line up. Facing them, and looking around him, Kageyama realises that this is it. It’s the starting line, the beginning. It’s now. In the background, Koji mumbles about his stomach not feeling okay wile Izumi looks over exasperated.
In the stands, three students donning a black uniform with the kanji ‘Karasu’.
“We came here to watch the ‘Imperial Ace’, Hinata Shouyou.”
“Look at Kitagawa Daiichi’s number 1, their ace Hinata. He’s got amazing power and technique, plus a nationally ranked serve.”
“He leads the court with his undeniable presence and power, a true ‘Emperor’!”
The whistle blows.
The first receive goes to Koji, who barely bumps it up.
Kageyama gets his hands on the ball, locks eyes with Izumi and sets the ball.
In his head, the determination to open the path is overwhelming.
Although I’m not good enough, I’ll use everything I have, I’ll overcome every obstacle for my spiker and get the ball on the other side.
“What a beautiful toss by number seven!” was what the television announcer said.
It was a big high school volleyball tournament, and on the TV screen, wearing a black uniform with the name ‘Karasu’ emblazoned on it, was an extraordinary setter who ruled over the court.
For a long time now, I have been in awe of the toss he made. Even tough I didn’t know much about the rules of volleyball, I watched that setter’s movements as if in a trance. “I want to set like that.” I thought.
I liked other sports too, but the sight of the winning toss was burned into my brain. In junior high, I chose to join the volleyball club, but…
“I’m the only member?”
In the corner of the gymnasium, off to one side of the sports grounds, In the hallway, I practiced anywhere with a ceiling high enough to toss the ball.
I started seriously and continued obstinately. Amongst the hundreds of failures, each individual success, made it that much more fun.
Then… In my third year of junior high.
“Three first years?”
With this I just need two more.
“Go Izumi! Hit it!”
The ball hits the ground. It’s a block. They lost the point.
There’s a high, high wall in their path. For a spiker to see the other side, the setter needs to clear out the wall. Can I clear it for them? Can my toss open the view from the top?
“Amazing toss, Kageyama!” shouts Izumi. “Give me the next.”
“It’s not enough.” Kageyama thought to himself. “Open the path.”
The whistle resonates. They lost the first set.
A failed receive, a few reassuring words. Fail, fail, fail. It’s overwhelming, how there’s always someone everywhere on the other side of the net. The rare times they manage to return the ball, it’s only for it to come back even harder.
There’s a high, high wall in their path. They can see it looming over them. I can’t clear the way for them.
“Yukigaoka’s number 1, Kageyama is single-handedly supporting that apparent mishmash of beginners.”
“On the other hand, Hinata Shouyou isn’t making any use of his team. There doesn’t seem too be anything to criticize about his own power but, it’s as if he’s fighting entirely by himself.”
Kageyama hears him, “Get it to me faster!”, “Go faster, higher!”, “Do it quicker.”
An onion-haired spiker on the other team speaks up “He’s just about as anal about the tosses today as he always is.”
“Even tough the opponents’ blocks are practically nonexistent, what’s he getting so serious about…” His sleepy looking teammate answers.
That seems to anger the orange-haired ace, as he whips around and shouts, “Then when are you going to start taking this seriously?! The finals?!”
Last point before match point. Hinata Shouyou is serving. The ball goes long. It’s at the end of the court.
Everyone is thinking the same thing. “This is it, service ace.”
Kageyama dives after it. It’s a crouching set, like the ones he’s seen on TV, but never managed to do. He lowers his knees, hands above the head, and focuses. Inspiration, Expiration. To koji, he decides.
There is no wall. It’s a free hit. He can’t see it from where he is, but Kageyama is sure Koji saw the whole court free from any wall. The libero bumps it. It’s in the air. Hinata hits it. It’s on the ground, in their own court.
“Um, I’m sorry, doing such things, even while frankly, they’re an opponent we can’t win against, why do you go that far?” it’s a first year, clearly worried about Kageyama.
Kageyama stands back up, lift his chin and, calmly, oh so calmly answers, “We haven’t lost yet.”
Silence
It’s deafening. Even the other team is shivering.
“That’s right, it’s so simple. No matter what sort of difficult ball comes his way, he has only one reason to chase after it.” Hinata thinks.
“Because the ball has not net fallen on the court.”
“No matter how weaker they are, he has one reason to keep fighting. Because they haven’t lost yet.”
The ball is coming. It’s match point. Izumi receives or tries to. The ball veers off, to the opposite side of the court. There is no one there, until there is. Kageyama sets it, a nice, high toss on the edge of the antenna, just like he knows Koji likes them.
Once again there is no wall. Koji is free. The libero is out of the picture.
A flash of orange hair captures the attention of the whole court. He jumps, the ace flying way over the net, arms closing on the spiked ball. It’s a block. Hinata Shouyou, the ‘imperial ace’ scores the winning point.
Match End.
Set count: 2.
Winner: Kitagawa Daiichi Junior High School.
“The faces of those Kitagawa Daiichi guys don’t look like those of a team who just won by a huge margin.”
They look bleak. Kageyama can see it, amid caring and helping his teammates, even while they handshake.
Hinata is breathless. It’s anger, sure, but not only. “That toss came from a difficult position, launched with only one foot on the ground. Even then, I couldn’t even follow it with my eyes.”
“He was able to toss like that?”
“A high awareness of the court, an amazing sense of positioning and body control. If you posses all of those.” he thought.
“What have you been doing for the past three years?!” Hinata shouted.
That was the first and last match of my junior high school life. The number of sets won, was 0. The entire match lasted a mere 31 minutes.
Kageyama Tobio is standing on the steps of the gymnasium. Yukitaka Izumi and Koji Sekimukai behind him.
“There was nothing we could do. Our opponents are aiming for nationals… We’re just unlucky we faced them.” Koji reassured.
Kageyama answered, serenely, “Whether the opponent is strong or weak, in the end it’s about whether you win or lose. If you lose, you can no longer stand in the court.”
Standing on the top of the stairs, flanked by Izumi on one side and Koji on the other, Kageyama said to himself, “If this guy is the best spiker in the prefecture right now, I’ll train hard, pour my blood and sweat and break open the walls in front of my spikers. I’ll make it so that anyone who spikes my tosses surpasses what they are usually capable of.”
Practice, experience, have a coach. Have sparring partners. Whether it’s the girl’s volleyball club, or the team of neighbourhood mothers, if they’ll let us play alongside them, we’ll go wherever.
There are six players on the court. I want to bring every one of them to their 120%. I want my spikers to feel like they’ve gotten better just by being the one tossing.
My first choice of high school was decided a long time ago. By bicycle, it’s 30 minutes through the mountains.
Miyagi Prefecture’s Karasuno High School.