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“Why do you try so hard now? Why bother?” The vice-captain huffed, hands planted just above his knees as he attempted to regain his breath at the top of the hill. Their teammates were still approaching, complaining and grunting loudly as they made their way up the hill slowly for the fifth time that evening.
“I love the winning.” Ikejiri grinned at the vice-captain from his position, leaning tiredly against the wooden fence of a strangers backyard that faced the street, arms hung by his side and eyes cast towards the sky, breaths laboured and heaving, “I love the sting of my palms, the burning that can only be soothed by the cooler skin on my thighs. I love my tongue hanging dryly in my mouth while I put off drowning it in water to scream victoriously with my teammates. I love happy tears and I love bowing to our supporters.”
“Love it more than your future?” The vice-captain responded, not one for partaking in fantasies, for seeing the lighter side to the pain. It was his job, after all, that’s why he’d been chosen to keep the team of dreamers in check. Ikejiri would gladly let his head play amongst the clouds while his feet dragged him through the drudgery of life he could have avoided if he’d stopped dreaming of a better one.
Ikejiri let his gaze drop from the empty blue skies to his friend and teammate, who had taken to scowling at him, spiked hair never losing its volume and adding to the intensity of his glare. All of the third years had returned for their final tournament, the Spring High, but Chaya had been the only one who didn’t need persuading. Together, Ikejiri and Chaya had convinced all of the previous players to put their studies in the back of their minds for just a little longer. That if they tried they could amount to something, anything.
The freckled boy maintained his grin and let loose a bright laugh, “How do you know Volleyball isn’t my future?”
Chaya could only offer a derisive snort and a roll of his eyes before Komaki sprinted through them, his sixth climb of the hill, and delivered another glare upon Ikejiri, “I thought we were trying harder this year, Ikejiri.”
“Ah, yes Captain.” Ikejiri beamed and began his descent down the hill, feet thumping down the concrete path as he went, the loud footsteps of Chaya behind him were drowned out by the other teen’s voice.
“It may not be your future, but we’ll make it our present. So you better run faster, Ikejiri, cause I want to win too.” With that Chaya overtook the brown haired teen, his arms steadying himself as he became unbalanced.
Ikejiri’s lungs burned with each breath he forced into them, his thighs ached with each step he took but the muscles in his cheeks had grown the most, breaking down and building up again around his beaming smile.
Team sleepovers weren’t a commodity for Tokonami, nor should they ever be, in Chaya’s opinion. Perhaps them all convening in Chaya’s home had something to do with his less than positive opinion on the matter but it’s just as likely that Chaya simply couldn’t deal with them all after hours.
Sakurai had managed to convince them to watch a horror film, his petit frame almost shuddering with excitement as he withdrew the perfectly kept DVD case from his bag in the corner. Skipping over to the DVD player and shuffling back to sit between Ikejiri and Tamagawa, his small face lit up with a terrible delight.
The movie was horrendous and Tamagawa was petrified three minutes in. The music playing throughout the start menu already amplified his anxiety so when the first, harmless, jump scare inevitably appeared Tamagawa leaped out of his skin and into Sakurai’s arms, burying his head into the short teens shoulder much to said shorter teens delight.
Half way through the film and Tamagawa hadn’t lifted his head from Sakurai’s shoulder once. His whimpers were becoming louder with each scream erupting from the terrible speakers adorning Chaya’s T.V and Sakurai finally nodded towards Ikejiri to switch films. Ikejiri had brought along an English comedy he’d heard was good. Not from the best of sources but it was worth a shot.
It was dreadful but anything was better than Sakurai’s film.
Unfortunately, no matter how terrible the special effects and acting, the movie proved to be successful in its endeavour to scare the audience out of sleeping. The small team found themselves sat in a circle, wrapped up in blankets or curled up in their sleeping bags with only a tired head peeping over the edge.
The conversation wasn’t typical for the teens, late night sleepover conversations rarely were. When they became too tired to hold up the filter between their brain and voice, when thoughts simply flowed out into the world and there was nothing that could be done to stop it other than to fall asleep.
“I hate looking stupid when we’re in a game.” Tamagawa mumbled, eyes fixed to his toes, encased in white socks and poking out beneath his blanket, wiggling.
“Yeah, like when you dive for the ball and you’re way too far away.” Sakurai continued, shifting his balance to knock against Tamagawa’s shoulder with his own.
“Or when you go to set a toss and it hits you in the face instead.” Haga moaned, burying his face in his knees as the team chuckled lightly.
“That setter for Karasuno did that once though, didn’t he?” Shibuya comforted, landing a heavy hand on his back and offering a tired but wide grin.
“Karasuno’s a different thing all together though.” Ikejiri laughed as Haga continued to moan into knees, he could spot the tips of his ears burning red at the memory of it.
“What about you Ikejiri?” Sakurai asked, the second years fell silent and Haga withdrew his head from his knees, placing his chin atop them and watching with watery eyes. More from exhaustion than mortification.
“Well, I don’t know.” The freckled boy sunk a tooth into his lips as he thought, eyes looking at the small light from the switched off T.V in the corner.
“Surely you hate something, you can’t love everything about volleyball. I bet not even that orange haired kid loves everything.” Ikejiri looked to Tamagawa with wry grin.
“No, I think he loves everything there is to volleyball. Even his setter.” The laughter was more than it would have been in any other moment of the day, the darkness seeping into their brains and muddling it thoroughly.
“What about losing.” Komaki’s voice was deep and exhausted, merely offering up what he knew to be true. He believed he already knew the answer.
“I can take the losing.” Ikejiri sent his tired smile Komaki’s way, “It isn’t fun but it’s not what I hate about volleyball. If I never lost, I’d never grow. You’ll never fix bad habits if you still ace the tests. You’ll never walk a different way if it gets you home in time. Losing is good. It isn’t fun, but it’s good.”
Komaki’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile. Ikejiri pulled his weight and sent his well know beam across the room. Their captain and his vice were always so grumpy, it’d be mean to make them exercise all those muscles so late at night.
“You’re lucky you have me around you know. You and Chaya would never smile if I wasn’t here.” Ikejiri teased, and Chaya threw his pillow across the room. It bounced off Ikejiri’s head and the freckled teen squawked as he retreated into his blankets, leaving only his eyes, playfully glaring across the room at the scowling Chaya.
The buzzer droned, filling Ikejiri’s head and rattling his bones. The bones that had once felt so solid and secure, wrapped in newly built muscle and bound by bruised skin, crumbled to ashes as the buzzer rampaged through his body.
It was their first game.
And they had tried so hard.
Not once had they let their resolve waver. Not once had they considered defeat.
It was their first game and they were trying so, so hard.
But it wasn’t enough.
Ikejiri refused to let himself drop, refused to taint their oppositions victory and mince his own reputation in the progress. He walked, with legs like jelly, shaking and swaying beneath him, to the bench.
He threw on his jacket, dragged a long sip from his drink bottle and caught his captains watery eyes, caught the vice-captains grinding teeth, his jaw working back and forth. Ikejiri knew he couldn’t stop just yet.
When he had begun this mission, this venture to draw back all his old teammates, pull them away from their studies and their secured futures to play volleyball, he had known this day might come. He’d spent night after night, tossing and turning in his bed as he thought of what he might do, wishing and hoping that he would never need to deal with it. That it would never happen.
But he did.
And it had.
They had lost.
And it was only their first game.
Spreading a wry smile across his features, Ikejiri forced his knees to bend and his steps to lighten. Forced them across the small gap between him and his captain, lifting a heavy arm and slinging it about his shoulders.
Another forced movement, a calm inhalation of breath. As though he hadn’t spent the past hour sprinting, diving and fighting. As though he hadn’t been shoving his tears deeper down, farther away, for another time. He forced his steady breath and offered a weak laugh, spilling the words past the lump in his throat, “Don’t mind Captain!”
“Don’t mind?” Komaki rumbled, swallowing a lump of his own, “All of it was for nothing, Ikejiri. Every hour wasted, every run pointless, every minute of sleep lost forever. All for nothing.” He hissed through his teeth.
For while their captain was logical, kind, gruff and reasonable. He was the biggest dreamer of them all. He would hope, and dream and not once picture a scenario where it did not go his way. Ultimately, this is his weakness. For once the failing arrives, he has nothing to hold onto but the memory of his naïve and foolish dreams.
“It wasn’t for nothing Komaki.” Ikejri shook his head, letting Komaki shake off his heavy arm and move to sit on the benches before them, slinging a towel behind his neck and a jacket over his shoulders.
Ikejiri crouched before his captain and placed his stinging hands upon his cheeks, pulling the other teens face away from the floor, directing his gaze onto Ikejiri’s strained smile and watery eyes. Komaki’s glare did nothing to deter Ikejiri from speaking.
“I love the winning.” Ikejiri smiled, patting Komaki gently on the cheek when the black haired teen’s eyes deviated from his own. Making sure the teen could feel the heat coursing through his bright red hands.
“I can take the losing.” He laughed, forcing Komaki to look him in the eyes, already the team had begun to form around him, hands being placed on shoulders, towels being thrown over heads.
“But most of all.” Ikejiri beamed, eyes closing with the force of his smile, “I love to play.”
A choked laughed escaped Ikejiri’s lips and Ikejiri let Komaki’s head drop onto his shoulder, tears soaking his jersey.
“Thank-you for letting me play, Komaki.”
A hand threaded through his hair and hands were placed on his shoulder unoccupied by their weeping captain.
“Thank-you,” Ikejiri sobbed, “For letting me play.”