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There was static. A loud high pitched noise. The tv changed colors, and a grainy film appeared.
The laugh of a girl, followed by the shuffling of cloth.
“What are you doing?”
The film finally focused.
Red numbers at the bottom, dated 21 Feb 2014. In the center, or well, as close to the center as it could, a boy stood. The camera shaked. Unsteady hands were holding it.
Her voice was cheerful, yet soft. The way you would talk about a shared secret. This excitement that brimmed from the walls, yet still whispered.
“I’m filming,” she said.
“Filming?” The boy asked with a grin. He kneeled, his face taking up most of the scene. “What are you filming?”
“You,” the girl said with a hum.
“Me?” He laughed. His laugh echoed in the empty gym. The sound was worn down by time, it came out closer to static from the tv. “Boring!”
”You are far from boring, Sho-Chan,” she replied.
There was an awkward zoom in and zoom out on his face. It repeated itself.
“Ne, Yacchan, why are you filming?”
“It’s a new camera,” she replied. “I want to get a hold of the settings before I start using it”.
“Ehhh, sounds tough,” he said. The frame shook wildly, going from pitch black to pure white in a matter of seconds, and then the boy reappeared at the center.
“I thought, what better way to try out than an interview?” The voice coming from the back of the camera said, cheerfully. “What do you think?”
”An interview?” The audio became muffled. The squeak of a sneaker slipping against the wooden floor. “Interview for what?”
Then the resounding ‘boom’ of a volleyball hitting the floor.
”How about…” the girl let out a hum, thinking out loud “…ah! I know!”
The camera shook once more. Now, the camera looked down to the boy kneeling down. The boy tilted his head, letting his orange hair fall to the side. The girl cleared her throat loudly, and then let out an excited,
“Coming up! Interview with our rising star: Shou-Chan!”
There was a beat of silence. Then a loud laugh followed. The boy on the ground continued to grin. He finally got up. The camera was now looking up.
“Alright!” He said. “What do you want to ask?”
“Well, first of all, tell us about yourself! Who are you, and what’s your biggest dream?”
The shakiness of the camera wouldn’t stop. It was obviously being held by an amateur. The brightness settings weren’t adjusted, leaving the film being overexposed sometimes, and underexposed in another. The audio was terrible. Whatever the video camera caught was ingrained in the video - including the person training in the background and the awkward echo of their voices hitting the empty walls.
“My name is Hinata Shouyo,” he said with pride, puffing out his chest. “And I’m going to win the Nationals! Just like the Little Giant!”
Just as he said so, the loud sound of a volleyball being hit echoed in the gym. A quick shuffle of the camera, and a terrified little scream from the girl came soon after.
“Hey! Kageyama watch out!”
“Stop wasting your time with interviews and come back to practice!”
“Say sorry to Yacchan! You almost broke her camera!”
“Unlike you, I can actually aim my serves”
“Hey! You were aiming at me!?”
The camera came back into focus. The pair was caught, bickering as they moved back to the center of the court.
“…Those two…” the voice behind the camera sighed.
“Yachi-san,” the taller one called. “Is your camera okay?”
”Yeah, I’m almost done with the video”.
“Hey, Yacchan, can you take photos with it?”
“Ah! Yes! That’s such a good idea, Sho-Chan”
“Wait, you’re gonna take mine too?”
“Of course,” the smaller one said, with a grin. “Or are you shy?”
“Alright! I think I got it!” The girl said. “Now, say cheese!”
The image froze in the pair. The shorter one had a wide smirk, perhaps too wide. Unrestrained and uncaring for appearances, simply focused on making sure it was as wide as could be. The taller one was awkwardly looking around, unable to pick a pose or letting his face rest on a smile. In the end he simply stood there, holding a volleyball still in his hands.
“Wait, it’s the wrong-“
Then, the tv went dark.
.
The dark turned to bright. Too bright. Then slowly, the brightness went down. The red number shifted, frozen in time at the bottom as if it still were 2014. The red colors of the battery about to die flashed in the top corner.
“Uwaah, it still works!”
“Yacchan? What’s that?”
“My old camera!”
The lenses focused and unfocused, the brightness moved, the filters changed and then slowly everything became clearer and cleared.
“Which one?”
“The one I had in high school,” she said. Her voice was full of nostalgia, as if just thinking back on it was a treasure. “Ahhh, how did I even use this thing!? The settings are terrible!”
“I thought it was a stylistic choice,” another voice came from the other side of the room.
“Yeah! Blurry photos and that filter you used!”
“Ugh, I can’t tell if I like those photos or I hate them. They’re so bad…but they’re such a time capsule!”
Finally, the camera looked up.
Standing in front of it was a pair. The same pair. Except, different. They were both taller, baby fat gone, pale skin turned tanned, and skinny bodies turned full. One was still taller, one was still shorter. You could tell who they were, yet at the same time, you could not.
In the background wasn’t a gym. It was a bedroom. The tall one was sitting on the sofa, with the shorter one sprawled on top, taking up most of the space. They looked comfortable in each other’s presence. The closeness as natural as breathing. The person behind the camera didn’t even think about pointing it out.
“You have them there?” The shorter one asked.
“Yeah, I can’t believe they’re still intact…” she said, the camera went dark. The shuffling of a box could be heard, passing along to the pair. They started browsing through the box, while the settings on the camera kept changing.
Finally, it clicked.
“There we go!” she said.
The camera looked up. The two of them were in focus. They were looking through the photos. Some Polaroid, some printed in cheap paper. They were old photos, from their high school years, blurry and faded by the years of improper storage. Yet, every single one of them held memories. Each one with a story they could recite with their eyes closed.
The taller one was still staring at them, but the shorter one looked up.
His head was resting on the other’s lap, so it was easy to stare at the camera back. This time around, the camera didn’t shake. It was a steady grip, with the boy in focus. It was a clear picture, at least as clear as an old 10-year-old Canon camera could be. The image on the tv was one full of color, if a bit grainy. The difference between the two videos was stark.
“Still running?” The boy asked.
“Yeah! Not the best I’ve had, but it does its job,” she said with obvious mischief in her laugh. She cleared her throat. “Now! An exclusive interview with our rising star: Hinata Shouyo!”
The boy blinked. Then stared. And finally, he let out a hearty laugh.
“What’s that voice Yacchan!?”
”An interviewer's voice!” She said, letting out an annoyed huff. “Sorry I’m not a professional, like you’re so used to, bleh”.
“Rising star?” The taller one asked. Just like that, the camera effortlessly focused on him. It didn’t even shake as it moved. “I’m pretty sure you’re just a ‘star’ now. Don’t think you can ‘rise’ more than winning the Olympics”.
“That’s quitter talk!” The boy said, pushing the other’s shoulder slightly. “There’s still more I want to do, and we barely just broke the tie, I need to broaden the gap, you know?”
”Well, I guess Tobio’s right,” the girl conceded. “You’re pretty much just a ‘star’ now, Sho-Chan!”
”Uhh, I guess we are,” he said, still not fully convinced. He probably still felt, in a way, like the child in those old photographs. Still a runt, scrapping to get to the top.
Even though, now, he was at the top - chasing after an even higher mountain.
“So, what does it feel like, now?” The girl asked. “To be at the top?”
The boy thought it out. He looked up. The taller one was still looking at the pictures with nostalgia.
He smiled.
“I like the view”.
With a loud beep, signaling the battery dying, the screen turned to black.