Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The world ended today. Or maybe, yesterday; Hinata Shouyou can’t be sure.

His hands reach out to clamp over the ball. It’s a toxic combination of yellow and blue. Serrated nails dig into it’s meat; a habit that he thought he left behind in his second year. Kageyama had beat the nail biting out of him under the guise of ‘taking care of his setting hands’. (Neither wanted to admit that the sight of bleeding fingers daily was due to the rising tension of their seniors having left.)  The short sting does nothing to snap him out of his current state of hysteria. Neck held down by bricks, his eyes see nothing. Shouyou’s limbs of lead led him jerkily to a worn down and dead patch of turf. One foot in front of the other, he’s acutely aware of the blades of thatch stabbing at his soles. Hurling the volleyball into the air about a metre or so too high, Shouyou feels a burning heave in his calves as he cuts through the heavy air.

Palm to Ball. Skin to Leather. Flesh to Flesh.

The thing arcs weakly in the air, meekly hitting the white tape of Shouyou’s beaten up net before pathetically hitting the ground. Again. But this time he goes down with it. Shouyou’s legs finally give out. Folding like wet cardboard, he collapses onto the ground in a flurry of orange. There he is, Shouyou Hinata, a twenty two year old Japanese beach volleyball player. Skin pale and a bag of bones, he was eighteen kilograms lighter and ten centimetres shorter (he checked).

“The world must’ve ended.” He murmured softly to himself, voice a soft soprano. There was no other explanation. Heart slowing to an even beat in his small chest, he gazed at the vast sky of oranges and pink above him. The same one he was looking at yesterday, halfway across the world. In the backyard of his childhood home Hinata Shouyou pondered how and why this was all possible.

His stature was shorter. His skin was paler. His muscles were lesser. He was back to where he was before volleyball. An adult man who woke up in the body of his child self.

Footsteps rising like the sun, the back door slips open as outdoor shoes meet the dewridden grass in a prance. “Oni-chan.” A girly voice starts with myrrh lining its tone. “I see yer’ still not friends with the ball.”

Cold air pierces Shouyou’s lungs as he breathes in sharply. Head lolling to the side, he finds that his teenage sister was marginally shorter and filled with much more PG sass than he remembered seeing from FaceTime calls. 

“Natsu.” He greets her shortly, still attempting to comprehend the situation. “What day is it?”

She looks at him strangely at that. “Tuesday. Why?” It was Monday yesterday.

“No.” He tries again. “What date is it?” 

She rolled her eyes badly, succeeding in only slightly moving her eyebrows and bobbing her head. “Twenty fifth of July, twenty ten. Are ya’ dumb or something? Did ya’ bonk yer’ head on the way down?”

July twenty ten. He knew that he celebrated New Year’s Eve seven months ago wearing glasses in the shape of ‘2018’. He filed a bank statement last week having written two thousand and eighteen. Yesterday was July twenty four, two thousand and eighteen. Today it’s July twenty five, two thousand and ten . How does that make sense?

“Brat, can you slap m-“ Shouyou started, “-EOUCH.” 

“RUDOLPH!” Natsu glowered back at her brother, watching him glare knives at her through the gaps in his hands grasping at his reddening nose. He asked, she delivered. “You’re WELCOME.” She places her hands on her hips and, like a newborn calf, trots back towards the door. It slams in her wake.

Today was going to be a long day.

–

Watching as his best friend steals the ball from a midfielder and boots it into the goal, Koji wondered what caused this massive change in Hinata. Hinata Shouyou, who used to beg Izumi and himself to play volleyball with him, ball in tow. He still walks around with the beat up thing tied to his bag, indoor shoes looped around his bag strap with them, but he rarely takes the volleyball out of its net and uses his volleyball shoes for basketball now.

Hinata takes his victory lap and whoops, launching his frame at him. “YEAHHH!” Koji stumbles back with a boisterous laugh, Hinata joining in. Feeling his friend leaning against him, it's obvious that the shrimp is not quite a shrimp anymore, but a lobster? No that's not the point. His friend has gained some weight on his bones, muscles hugged by the hems of their school-issued sports shorts.

“Take five,” their coach said as he threw two towels at them “Hinata-kun you can go now.”

The ginger boy bowed deeply and swept his bag off the bench. “Thanks again for letting me join Sensei!” As his friend ran towards the main buildings, Koji could make out the tips of Hinata’s volleyball shoes peeking out of his sports duffel.

“Why does he only get to do an hour of training!” One of the first years complained. He was sucking his water bottle bone-dry, in an attempt to stop himself from wheezing in exhaustion.

Another one piped up. “Yeah! So not fair!” And others began to join in.

Koji sighs. The group of first years came to try out but still didn’t know about Yukigaoka’s resident monster athlete.

A second year interrupted the chorus. “But technically isn’t he training more than us?” Prompted on by the confused looks sent his way, he continues. “He was in the gym from when school ended, to just before training which is like two hours right? And then he trains with us for an hour, runs off and catches up with the second half of basketball practice for another hour of training. So technically he trains for 4 hours after school?” A pregnant pause began.

“Oh wait! He trains with my cousin during her women's volleyball session for two hours.” One of Izumi’s friends suddenly said, and then added “I also know that he runs on the track at the public park as one of his ‘cool downs’.”

Koji couldn’t exactly pinpoint the time where his best friend started to change, but the effects were immediate. It was only the first term back and Hinata was already signed to all the sport’s rosters. Whispers during faculty meetings spoke of a student who’s athletic prowess may carry their school’s name to ranked tables. A one-man sports squad, Hinata Shouyou, who Koji was very proud of.

–

Waxed floors meet neon rubber as Shouyou launches himself off of the ground. This was the jump that he used to use on the beach. Using knees to shoot him upwards explosively and his arms to drag his momentum upwards he dunked the rough, grippy ball onto the hoop. (The feeling is foreign to him. He remembers smoother balls and a long net that represents his horizon.) The shrill of a buzzer greets him on the way down as Izumi, one of Shouyou’s best friends, slaps him on the back.

“Another one Hinata!” His freckled face scrunched into a vengeful grin. “Show those cocky little shi- I mean first years- who’s boss!” Shouyou matches his friend's energy and dragged the rest of his practice team into a sweaty celebratory huddle. 130 - 20, his side winning and the trialling first years demolished. A full game of him weaving, breaking ankles and dominating.

A first year, who looks to be about 5 '8, whines to interrupt the celebration. “Don’t be too happy about all of that! He’s a third year of course he’s better than us. It was all banter jeez…” He trails off.

One of the managers, who’s in Shouyou’s PE class , laughs at that. “Hey Hibiki-kun! That would be a great excuse- if Hinata-san had been playing for long! He’s only started playing this year!” The revelation was met with gasps and even more proclamations.

Tuning the chaos out, Shouyou sat with his drenched back against solid brick. That wasn’t good enough. Cataloguing his jump during PE today, it was at 120 cm, an improvement from the 111 he debuted with last time around. ‘It’s not enough.” A hiss from inside his head tells him. ‘You need to be better this time around.’
His first official match was lost to Kageyama Kitagawa Daiichi, his first practice match and his first interhigh was lost to The Great King Aoba Johsai and his first nationals was lost to Hoshiumi Kamomedai. He needed to get better. Shouyou can’t just be a ‘surprise’ this time around. He needed to be one of the greats. Like Kageyama, Ushiwaka, and The Miyas. Undeniable. Absolute.

So great that the old coach from Shiratorizawa is forced to notice him. So great that all of Japan is forced to notice him. So great that even his own body, who’s been his enemy and failing point from the very beginning, will not hinder or dare forsake him again.

‘You’re not The Greatest Decoy anymore.’

‘You’re Greater.’

Chapter Text

A year ago, if someone were to tell Hinata Yuki that her teenage son would fix his sleep schedule, get good grades at school, excel athletically and started to cook family meals for them, she would sigh and go to sleep, assuming she inhaled some anastasia from work and that it made her hallucinate. Yet here she is, sitting at their round table at 4 in the morning, her son in his jogging gear serving her a hearty miso soup with some sort of vegetable mix and omurice.

“Dig in, Okasan.” Shouyou smiled gently at her. “You need energy for work.” He says his thanks and scoops up portions of rice into his mouth.

Yuki takes a long, hard look at her son. What did she do to deserve him? “Thank you, Sho.” She says sincerely. “What time do you need to get to school?”

Chewing slightly, her son swallows his food down. “I need to be on the field by 6 for the 6:30 start. The track coach wants us to warm up to jumping hurdles in time for regionals. Don’t worry, she already said that I can bring Natsu and leave a bit early to drop her off in time.” He rushes the last part reassuringly.

She gave him a look that almost seemed sad. “You grew up so well Shouyou, I’m so sorry for missing most of it.” Pausing to think, she added “I’ll take an early dinner break so I can pick Natsu up and take her to piano. Don’t worry about her today and enjoy training.” She fixes her eyes on him and beams at her son. His sports seem to be the only thing on his mind lately, so she’ll support him wholeheartedly like he is for her. “Do you need any new gear?”

Her sweet Shouyou put his chopsticks down and started on his miso. “I need some more sports tape I think. Oh and if you can, can you please get some more salonpas strips? Thanks.” She nodded at that.

“That's easy, I can pick those up from work. I’ll put them on your desk.” She smiled at him again, gathering up her plates and his, before starting towards the kitchen. “Go get your sister ready. I'll take care of the washing.”

Shimmying his legs out from underneath their table, Shouyou rounds a corner and climbs up the stairs. This house, that he has lived in for fourteen years (thirty three if you include his ‘past life’) Choosing the only other room up there that wasn’t his, he knocked on the hollow doors. “Natsu I’m coming in. It's time to wake up.” 

Hearing her stir and mumble a short, “Shut up Shouyou…” he slides the doors open and manoeuvres his way to her window. 

“Rise and SHINE.” He trills obnoxiously. He missed this. Teasing his little sister, quiet breakfasts with his mother and soft tatami floors. Shouyou’s two years in Brazil had him accustomed to lonesome and fast paced breakfasts, rushing so that he could catch the sunrise and meditate on the beach and biking all over the city to make his deliveries. Other than beach volleyball, there was nothing else in the day that gave him thrill or enjoyment. Looking at his little sister’s sharp but groggy glare gave him much enjoyment. “C’mon Okasan said that she can pick you up today. Make sure you bring a hat and a colouring book or something.”

“Why do I have to come with you?” She asks him with an eye roll as he passes her on his way out.

“‘Cause I have track today.” He pauses for a second “And I said so you little poop” (Even after all these years he can't bring himself to say the word shit . Kageyama would laugh.) Retreating down stairs again his mother was making her way out of the door.

His Okasan shuffles around in her work duffel for a second and hands him a neatly folded piece of paper. “Here are the forms you asked me to sign for, Sho. Good luck today!” She sends him a smile. She hurries out of the door for their car. Shouyou goes to the kitchen and starts packing his sister’s bento. Sushi made from leftover eggs and pickled vegetables, some miso soup in a thermos and goldfish crackers he found in the international section of the grocery mart his mother buys their supplies from. Placing a mini KitKat bar in there for good measure, he packs her share of breakfast in a separate box and wraps them both in her yellow puppy handkerchief. 

“Natsu! Speed it up!” Shouyou calls up the hallways, ears meeting the distinct creak in one of the pipes that signifies rushing water. He sighs. This was going to be a long morning. Making sure that the forms his mother handed him were packed safely inside his bookbag, he let himself relax a little bit. They were the first step of his plan.

And a long morning it was.

Shouyou’s hot breath hitting the crisp May air left a slight fog in its wake. Upon arriving at the oval and disposing of his younger sister on the grand stands he started on a paced jog. With practised ease, one leg in front of the other, his feet patted softly on the paved path. there was something that he needed to urgently address. The school boy’s volleyball club- or lack thereof.

The new school year had just started, which meant that he had a few months before the Kitagawa Daiichi match. A few months to reassemble his first volleyball team again. To make them better than last time. To win.

Passing the white double line for the third time, a new rhythm joined his own. Hinata let a small smile form, lips burning with the slight stretch. While Hinata always came to track early to warm up, there was always one underclassman who came shortly after him.

“Maki-kun.” He breathes out with a puff of mist. The other boy simply nods, black hair bouncing slightly at the movement. The silence didn’t bother him nearly as much as it would've in his previous life. After all, he had two years to become accustomed to it. Taking it in stride, he hummed while side-glancing the taller boy. “Hey Maki-kun, would you help me out with something?” The younger boy looked at him in surprise. They never talked on their warm-up jogs, too busy trying to stay warm and conserve energy.

Maki’s too-loud thudding had joined his senpai’s prim pace. Maki had always liked Hinata-senpai. He was respectful, dedicated, and his own personal idol. He’s heard whispers of the monster senior who was in all of the sports clubs. “Hinata Shouyou, the kid who leaves his teams in the dust.” “Hinata-san, who got impressive grades while balancing his extracurriculars.” “Hinata-senpai, who was being scouted by some of the best specialist schools in Sendai.”

So of course when that senpai, Hinata-senpai , asks for a favour; Maki decides that even if he sends him to war against the Huns he would fight with vigour. “Anything that I can help you with, I would, Senpai.”

And Hinata beams wildly at that, warming Maki’s still cold fingertips up. “Thanks Maki-Kun! I need players for a boy’s volleyball club. They don’t need to know how to play, just interested ya’ know? If you can, could you recruit a few people to play?”

Huh. Easy enough. Maki said so aloud as they continued jogging. He wonders if his senpai knew how many people would say yes to joining a club that he proposed. Maki guessed half of the boys in his year would say yes in a heartbeat. Super-senpai Hinata Shouyou starts a club! Of course, the boy himself seems unaware of the influence he has over the school and its athletes but oh well. He’ll see soon enough. 

White lines weave through Maki’s feet as he snaps out of his train of thought. Rightening his pace and moving back into his lane, his eyes fell onto his senpai’s back. Young rays of light pierce through the clouds and illuminate Hinata. The fresh morning light outlined the boy’s frame. Not for the first time Maki noted how short his senpai was. His shoulders seem too broad for a fourteen year old boy.

–

“Hey have you heard?” A girl sat on the desk in front of Hibiki. Looking up from his sports magazine, she lent in closer. “Apparently Hinata-senpai is recruiting players for a new club.” The conversation seemed to attract the attention of those in the surrounding area. 

A boy walking by scoffs. “Pshh. That Senpai? I bet he's too big for his birches I mean-” He stumbles as a very familiar magazine hits the back of his knees.

“Don’t talk about Senpai like that.” Hibiki stands at his full height. 5 '8 isn’t that tall, but he’s only beginning middle school. That meant that he towered over all his other prepubescent classmates. The other boy stumbled back, hitting a chair on his way down. “He’s an incredible player. I, for one, will try out for his mystery club.” He declared in front of his homeroom class. Ha. That serves them right for just standing there and listening to his Senpai’s name be slandered.

Whispers break out as a voice snaps Hibiki out of his almost-trance. “Aww Hibi-chan… I’m sure Shouyou would appreciate you standing up for him, right bro?” Hibiki almost gave himself whiplash as he saw Izumi-senpai leaning on the doorway with Koji-senpai doubled over behind him, laughing. Most importantly, Hinata-senpai was next to them. Hibiki and his eyes locked onto each other and suddenly he felt akin to a fly pinned onto a dartboard. Hinata-senpai’s gaze felt like a sharp blade dissecting and picking apart at his guts. Holding eye contact with him for a small eternity, his senpai nodded with resolution. Burning hazel meets deep brown. 

“You’re in. I’ll be posting the information for tryouts and training times on the notice board this afternoon. Bring gear.” A smile broke the heavy atmosphere, dispelling it. With that the orange haired male bounded off, two other senpai scrambling to follow him. The bell rang, announcing the end of whatever that interaction was.

A low whistle was let out from somewhere behind Hibiki. “You think he’ll let me join?”

Word spread through the school like a wildfire, burning competition filling the air. The whole student body knew two things that day. Firstly, Hinata Shouyou wanted to start a volleyball club. Secondly, everybody who was anybody was going to try out for it. It started off with a few boys from the track team, but after the first year’s sport’s representative Hibiki Yamamoto’s declaration, everyone wanted a piece of whatever volleyball club the ginger third year was making.

A large crowd had accumulated in front of the notice board by the genkan. Maki pushed his way through the commotion to find his Senpai’s poster. Finally breaking through the crowd he surveyed the notices. Assessment schedule? No. Weekly newsletter? No. Classroom cleaning duty? No. Best club in the world application? No. Wait! Squinting at the A4 piece of paper, Maki made out an orange blob with wings? Something like that. There was a hastily drawn net with a yellow circle on top of it. “Reach new heights! Tryouts in the MPC after school Wednesday!”

He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.  It was so like his senpai. Snapping a photo with his small phone he fought his way back out of the crowd. Where had he put that inflatable volleyball?

Chapter Text

“Are we poor, Ma?” A smaller, much more naive Shouyou asked his mother once. Looking up from his place in her lap, her face bloomed and wilted into a series of many emotions. What could she say to her son, who was so swift and full of life. Her first born, who shouldn’t be burdened by her choices and past actions.

Her face melted into a soft, almost sort of pained smile. “We get by, baby.” He never asked her about it again after that day.

He never asked her to come to his games and pay for the transport, he never asked her to drive him anywhere and to pay for gas, he never asked for extra lunch money, and, he has certainly never asked her to pay for his volleyball expenses. How could he? When she already worked so much in order to support them. Even his Brazil trip was paid solely out of his own pocket. He worked a few side jobs in his third year to pay for his plane ticket, but once arriving in Brazil he lived delivery to delivery, paycheck to paycheck, and sometimes canned tomatoes to canned tomatoes. God, he was useless.

When Shouyou first joined the Karasuno volleyball team, the school bill spiked. Naturally, public education was free in Japan. But club activities were never cheap and the training camps and cost to hire coach Ukai pained the young athlete to even think about. So, every month without fail, a young Hinata Shouyou would rummage through the mailbox, take every letter that was addressed from the school, and send them off with Take-Ojisan when he went to work in the city. There, the kind uncle would slip them under the door of the Hinata family’s estranged father figure’s new house. And the ruse continued for his whole high school career. 

Same difference. His current actions mirror the ones that he took in his past life. Each and every letter sent to his household with the address from Yukigaoka Middle were sent off to his father. Again, he has to lie to his mother’s face to tell her that school sport was free. A wrench was thrown into his plans however, when she attended the first parent teacher meeting of the year.

“Hinata-kun shows such dedication to sports! It must be expensive to let him do so many extracurriculars.”  His health teacher gushed with vigour. His mother looked puzzled at that. Why wouldn’t she when the only thing she really has had to pay for was a little bit of extra protein in his meals and a replacement pair of sneakers. 

“Um,” she started with a thought, “we live about as well as we can. I could never stop Shouyou from chasing his dreams. It would break my heart to imagine that a few extra yen might be the stopper to his happiness.” His mother really was an angel, and his teacher seemed to agree too. 

With glassy eyes, his teacher reached out her hand and touched that of his mother’s. “Don’t worry Miss Hinata.” A resolved look sharpened her face. “I will do anything in my power to get Shouyou into any and every scholarship I can think of. The sports faculty have also agreed that the school will subsidise all of your son’s athletic ventures. He makes our school so proud.” At this news, both Hinatas were shocked. As far as his mother knew, he was a hyperactive boy. As far as Shouyou knew, the school has never done this. Why would they pay for a random third year’s out of school activities?

Thinking back, the track coach had just gifted him a new set of running spikes. “A gift for performing so well in regionals.” She smiled at him gleefully. Similar ‘gifts’ had also started appearing that week. New boxing gloves on his rollcall table, a new judo kit in his getabako (shoe locker), and a fresh badminton racket unceremoniously thrown at him by his coach. Funny how things were so different this time around.  A pit of rocks settled and weighed down on his chest. Where was this treatment before? Why did he have to beg so frivolously for his own club last time? He was different, yes, but the school doesn't know that. He has done nothing to deserve any of this. Selfishly, Shouyou Hinata is still taking and taking from everyone around him, he thinks to himself.

His mother’s eyes became teary as she bows her head and thanks the teacher. The two exchanged kind words as Shouyou was stuck to the upholstered seat. Legs to Chair. Skin to Leather. Flesh to Flesh. Why are they being so kind? Why do people look at him with shining, expecting eyes? Why do they think so highly of him? A young, scrawny boy who’s addicted to punishing his body for not being the same as a 22 year old’s. Nothing has changed, but so has everything.

Walking out from that meeting, Shouyou waves his mother goodbye at the gate and starts for the gym. Hitting a few line shots like the ones that Tanaka-senpai does might calm him down.

–

While reaching the peak, Shouyou had to remind himself of many things. The ground beneath him was solid and waxed; rubber shoes would meet it with a violent thud. It wasn’t the graceful and pliable sand that used to welcome his feet in a rough embrace. When looking up, his eyes would not meet a vast and expanseless blue, rather a criss-crossing headache of aluminium and insulation. His warm sun was replaced by cold, lifeless lights akin to those he would find in the hospital his mother worked at.

With this knowledge, he should be more comfortable. He was home . Yet the loneliness that had settled in the base of his stomach earlier was dragging him down like an anchor to a buoy. It was lesser to the feeling of boundless joy that welcomed him each time he stepped onto the grainy beach. On the warm and bustling beaches of Sao Paulo, Hinata Shouyou was free. Now, ball thumping over the net, his feet meet the ground with too much certainty. Too solid.

“UAHH Hinata-senpai! That was amazing! You looked like you could jump over Haruka-chan!” The pink haired girl who insisted on being called ‘Makki’ ducked under the net to give him a wide slap on the shoulder.

Shouyou let out a small “Eep” before regaining his balance and moving back to the three metre line for another hit. She was terrifyingly strong for a 14 year old. “It's not that impressive Makki, you should see the high schoolers play! Their jumps go Swooosh! Sometimes even WABAMM if they’re ‘explosion’ is good!” Hakura, the girl setting to him, cocked her head to the side in confusion.

“Explosion?” She pressed lightly. Her sets were alright. They were slightly erratic, spin making them odd to hit. Her sets were like large feathers, see-sawing off tilt as they descend. Kageyama was fond of ‘shoots’, reminding him of hail that cleaved through the air with the clear mission of smashing something .

“Explosion,” Hinata replied, “is the explosive power of a person’s jump. How much power they can spring from their legs, if you want to call it that. That's where all the power from a jump lies.” Thinking back to all the books he forced himself to read , he uses one of his favourite analogies. “It's like, the more explosive power you have, the more ‘coils’ in your spring, making way for more potential to jump higher.”  He slid back up to the net to be in between the two younger students. “Here, follow my lead.”

Both girls mimicked his stance as he falls back from the net and takes his approach. A simple three step approach. The one he taught them earlier. “Right, left, right.” He thinks aloud, more out of habit than anything. At the last step he plants his front foot more firmly and feels his calves tighten.

Boom.

The height difference of their jumps were laughable. While all three of them were around the same height, Shouyou’s jump was much, much higher than their own. “Woahh” Makki gawked. She ran back and did it all again, achieving around the same height still. “How’d you do that? I thought that you jumped higher because you were a guy.”

Haruka thought for a moment before interjecting. “Well the boys always talked about how monstrous your lower body strength is senpai. They say that both your sprint and your long distance run is good enough to represent our prefecture.” Shouyou laughed nervously at that.

“It's mostly in the technique,” he said. “I’ve always had a pretty high jump but after trying new sports I've had to train endurance on top of high intensity low impact for volleyball.” The girls nod slightly, but Makki a bit more hesitantly. Honestly, They both reminded Hinata of him and Kageyama. They should be seeing each other in a few months. Well, Hinata was seeing him, Kageyama was meeting him.

To do their decade old partnership proud, he needed to catch the King of the Court’s attention again. Not by being so bad it hurt though. That worked last time, but it caused them many difficulties and roadblocks in the team's progress. This time, he was going to be so good that Kageyama had no choice but to yearn to set for him. Just like Miya Atsumu. Just like The Grand King. 

The thought of showing up to the tournament and forcing his old rival to look at him has his toes curling in expectation. He refuses to be a one trick pony, to be fully reliant on Kageyama again. He wants to stand on his own two feet and manipulate his opponents like he did on the beach. He wants to be Ninja Shouyou again.

“We should open the doors now.” One of the girls said. “Can’t keep them waiting.” All three of them sighed, noticing the commotion outside from the side window. Two other members of the girl’s volleyball club that Shouyou had enlisted to help him with the tryout process were assigned with tacking numbers on the backs of the boy’s shirts and lining them all up.

There were 4 of them in total, tasked with helping him set up, run drills and exercises, as well as note particular students that show potential. They practically threw themselves at him in order to volunteer for the role of assisting once they found out about his plans. Regardless, the line seemed unusually short to be making that amount of noise.

Shouyou strode forward to the left door and slid it open with ease. There he was met with a line snaking out to the other corner. “AH!” A boy shouted, attracting the attention of those around him. “Hinata-Senpai!” he exclaimed. The number ‘56’ was taped to his shirt with pink washi tape.

“Uh,” Shouyou started eloquently. “Hi. I’ll get to you guys soon.” He slammed the side door shut and glanced at the girls. They giggled at him and pointed to the right side door. Brats, the lot of them.  Jogging over, he slid that one open and was greeted with 2 panting second years, both armed with clipboards. Peering out, Shouyou could see the students with numbers ‘1’ and ‘2’ on their shirts.

One of the girls coughed to get his attention. Kiki-chan, he recalled. “82 applicants and counting, senpai.” The girl almost looked sheepish as she recounted the number to him. 82? As in 80 plus 2? That should be impossible. That was like, more than if the first and second year cohort’s male population combined.

Shouyou gazed out at the sea of applicants that stood at attention. Blood thumping in his ear and hands shaking, the sensation was reminiscent of his first game at nationals. Pure adrenaline along with anticipation for what's to come. “Well what are you guys waiting for?” That was addressed mostly to himself, but the effects were shared with the waiting crowd. He pushes the doors fully open. “Welcome to the Volleyball Club’s 2010 tryouts!”