Chapter Text
Goshiki arrived at Shiratorizawa Academy's gym doors ten minutes before the six o'clock practice start.
He was determined to make a good first impression. He had placed all of his hopes on this school, he recalled as he craned his neck back to take in the arching pillars circling the gym entrance before him. He had known for years that he had the makings to be one of the best volleyball players in the country, but all-star athletes were only as good as the hands that moulded them, so he had not chosen his high school carelessly. His entire future was riding on the choice he made.
Shiratorizawa made warriors out of boys, his old coaches had told him. The team's philosophy of centring power and strength was simple enough; only the strongest prevailed, so they collected the strongest. It was the perfect environment to prove he had what it took. There were risks, though, his coaches had cautioned. Shiratorizawa was a harsh training environment, and very few players came out on top. The team centred around one beast after another, all the while spitting out handfuls of players who didn't quite make the cut. If he wanted to earn his spot amongst the beasts, he needed to be the next powerhouse. No, he needed to be even better than the current one.
Goshiki's hands clenched into fists at his sides as his scowl deepened. He was ready. He had been preparing for that moment all his life. By the end of that day, come hell or high water, the rest of the team would know his potential as well.
Maybe his timing had been off, he realized when he approached the door. No one seemed to be coming from the parking lot behind him, and he could hear the squeaks of sneakers behind the gym doors. Goshiki steeled himself and stepped forward. His hand was trembling as he knocked on the door, but he tried to ignore it.
A murmur of voices carried through an agape rectangular window above the door. "Another one?" Someone grumbled. "How many are there?"
And then the handle was turning. Before he had a moment to panic, Goshiki was facing a shorter boy who stared at him blankly beneath blond bangs that hung low over his eyes. His lips twisted to one side of his face, his expression unpleasant.
"New recruit?" He asked.
"Yes," Goshiki agreed, hoping his courage wouldn't fail him. "My name is..."
The older boy held up a hand, cutting him off. "Spare me." He grumbled. "Just close the door before the cold air comes in."
Goshiki brushed the boy's rudeness off. It was six in the morning, he supposed. Not everyone would be in the best mood. When he stepped past his prickly greeter, he found himself facing an array of upperclassmen who all openly gawked back at him, wide-eyed.
"Oh, hello!" The red-haired guy near the front of the group leaned forward, giving him a good look. His eyes bulged as he inspected him. "And where did they dig you up, little one?"
"I am not little," Goshiki protested, flustered by the confusing introduction. His first moments with his new team were not quite playing out as he had practiced in his bathroom mirror the night before. And that morning.
"You are around here," Another student chimed in, a tall fellow with gentle eyes, nothing like the former two students who had addressed him. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Don't sweat about it, we had a few other first years come in before you." He gestured across the gym, pointing out the two players who stood out like sore thumbs, and not only because they were not wearing the black shirt and purple shorts everyone else was. They looked like nervous wrecks as they stared back, as though they were prey cornered by predators.
Goshiki hoped he wasn't in a similar state.
"You can join them," the redhead smiled at him, the expression making him no less unnerving. It only made him appear maniacal, with dilating pupils. "I made them promise not to bite."
"Quit scaring him, Tendou," Another student piped up, a spiky-haired blond with a permanent haughty expression on his face. Did anyone smile around there? Other than the redhead, or Tendou, as his peer had called him, none had shown themselves capable of smiling yet. "At least give them a chance to settle in first before you start on them."
"I am not scared," Goshiki insisted, even though his voice sounded unconvincing in his own ears. He rarely had to speak before a bunch of upperclassmen before.
"Eita Semi." The blond introduced himself, his tone less nasty when he addressed Goshiki. "What position do you play?"
Goshiki had been ready for that question. "I played as a wing spiker and opposite hitter in middle school." He replied with all the confidence he could muster up.
The mood in the gym shifted. The shift was slight, but impossible to miss. The players around him stood up taller, surveying him as if they were seeing him for the first time all over again. Eyebrows lifted, and a few shared knowing looks.
Goshiki peered around, confused by the strange reaction to his response, hoping he didn't look as alarmed as he felt.
"Guess the old man is looking for the next one," a tall boy with brown hair with a red hue chimed up, giving Goshiki a scathing look, as if he had personally insulted him somehow. "He's always plotting."
"We are missing a wing spiker," Semi shrugged. "Suppose that is what you are doing here. Figures."
"Yes," Goshiki agreed, baffled. Of course, he was there to be their wing spiker. He did not intend to stop there either. "I have every intention of being ace someday."
The murmurs swiftly turned to scornful laughter at that.
"Oh, ho ho, an ace, are you?" Tendou laughed, placing his hands on his hips and tilting his chin. "How fascinating!"
"Maybe no one has told you," the brown-haired boy snarled, even more scornful now, "But that position is taken."
"Ease up, Kawanishi," Another came to his rescue. "You came in here with a head full of air, too. Give the kid a break."
"I never was this insufferable," Kawanishi insisted, rolling his eyes. "This one is insipid. I already have a headache."
"I said someday," Goshiki argued, irritated. It was like he was talking to a wall in there. The older lot was just discussing him amongst themselves, teasing him as though he was not standing right there.
"I'm Reon Oohira," his defender introduced himself. "I'm a wing spiker as well. Want some advice from someone who's already been through this? Try proving yourself on the court before you share your ambitions. Trust me, this lot only respects power."
Goshiki pursed his lips, knowing that was likely the truth. He surely wasn't making any friends by confessing his goals then. He'd prove his worth on the court, he decided. That had always been where he shone.
"Why don't you go greet your fellow first years, and I'll see where our captain is," Oohira suggested, gesturing him in the right direction. "Ushijima must be around here somewhere."
"Yes, sir," Goshiki agreed enthusiastically, not wanting to annoy the only upperclassman who was being helpful. Besides, the mere thought of meeting the infamous Wakatoshi Ushijima shortly put him on edge. He hardly wanted to meet their current star ace while he was being mocked relentlessly by his peers.
He turned toward where the other first years were waiting on the court. As he walked away, he could hear the first boy who greeted him that day speaking up.
"I give him two practices before Washijou scares him off." The boy bet, lazily, to the amused snickers of those around him.
"You'd better hope he doesn't last the week," Kawanishi replied with a snort of laughter. "Otherwise, have fun setting to Bowl Cut Lunkhead in years to come, Sweetheart."
Goshiki was fuming as he stormed away, his teeth grinding. The nerve of those assholes. He'd wipe the smirk from their irritating faces once he was on court.
He'd show them all.