A view from the bench. Serve, receive, set, spike, cheer. The world spins. Someone serves, they jump, they look like you but they are not you. Service ace, the ball lands on the court untouched, and the lead is extended to four. Cheers once more, your teammate turns to you, opening his mouth to say something, and
you sit bolt upright. A glance at the clock tells you it's 3:30 in the morning, and you don't need to get up for another two hours. Another nightmare, maybe. A toss and a turn.
Three hours of sleep and one hour of sleep later, practice. Smacked upside the head by Iwaizumi. "You need to sleep better. You can't practice or improve if you're tired."
"That's Iwa-chan, always looking out for me~" you beam, but you look away, and he knows.
He bounces into the gymnasium joyfully. "Oikawa-san, do you think you could take some time to teach me how to serve?" He gleams up at you, eyes sparkling and full of love. The prodigy setter. You make a face at him and walk away.
You walk over behind the rear out-of-bounds line to practice your serves anyway. You feel him watching, but you don't care. Watching is no replacement for instruction.
Yet, at the same time, you love the kid. You love his optimism, his willingness to learn. He is so bright and only wants someone to help guide him. He wants you to help, but you are too afraid. Too afraid of replacement, too afraid of sharing.
Practice goes well. You mesh with your spikers; you know where they want the ball and why they want it there. You win your intrasquad scrimmage, but it's closer than you'd like. He's good.
After school, the first official match of the year. The draw was not the best, but Kitadai shouldn't have any problems with this team. Maybe they'll take a set off of you, but victory should easily be in hand.
In the middle of the first set, you're down 11-10. Kageyama is observing, watching, soaking up everything you're doing. He's learning, you're the better setter. Still, you feel his eyes boring into the back of your head. I have to be better. The toss is a touch high, but Iwaizumi hits it cleanly although you can tell he has to stretch.
"That was high." You nod.
I have to be better. Next set, to Kindaichi. He barely gets a hand on it, and it's hit lightly, right to their libero. They manage a set and spike of their own, and your side receives it well, right to you. Once more. A set to Iwaizumi, and once more, easy for the other side to receive.
You panic. Spike, receive, set, ... nothing. Cheers from the opposite site. "Don't mind, don't mind." Serve, receive, set; serve, receive, set; serve, receive, set; glare from the coach. "Oikawa." Gulp. Kageyama, holding the number 1 on his card. The world spins.
A view from the bench. Serve, receive, set, spike, cheer. The world spins a bit more. Someone serves, they look like you but they are not you. Service ace, the ball lands on the court untouched, and their lead is cut to three. Cheers once more, your teammate turns to you, opening his mouth to say something, and
you wait for the dream to end but it does not. "Oikawa-senpai," he says. You glare. He shies but returns once more. "You'll come back in soon. Kageyama's in for you to cool down and to get the spikers back in a rhythm for your return. He's not going to replace you."
You want to believe, you want to support and to love your junior. He's talented but so are you, you want to help and Kageyama wants to learn and grow and to love too. But he can tell that word echoes in your brain and you too can hear it. Replace.
A deep breath. It will be okay, I am important to this team and even to Tobio, you tell yourself. You regain composure, and look at the coach and your teammates firmly. I will not waver, I will lead us and we will win, you say with your eyes. They understand. Two plays later, you hold up his number, and you switch spots and he beams. "Good luck, Oikawa-senpai!" and you know he means it. You smile back at him, and give him a high five. "Thanks for covering for me."
You can feel his eyes from the right side of the court once more, but they're not harsh any more. Instead, his gaze is warm, of love and of learning, of growth and of support. The way you play, the way you connect with the spikers. Set, spike, point. The crowd cheers. 24-21, match point. You smile softly over at the bench, and meet his eyes. He smiles back.
Kitadai wins the match in straight sets, and you pull him into a hug and thank him for helping you calm down. He smiles wide, and you wait for the darkness and the red glow of the alarm clock to arrive but
FILL: TEAM DAIYA NO ACE, RATING: G
word count: 885
toss and turn
A view from the bench. Serve, receive, set, spike, cheer. The world spins. Someone serves, they jump, they look like you but they are not you. Service ace, the ball lands on the court untouched, and the lead is extended to four. Cheers once more, your teammate turns to you, opening his mouth to say something, and
you sit bolt upright. A glance at the clock tells you it's 3:30 in the morning, and you don't need to get up for another two hours. Another nightmare, maybe. A toss and a turn.
Three hours of sleep and one hour of sleep later, practice. Smacked upside the head by Iwaizumi. "You need to sleep better. You can't practice or improve if you're tired."
"That's Iwa-chan, always looking out for me~" you beam, but you look away, and he knows.
He bounces into the gymnasium joyfully. "Oikawa-san, do you think you could take some time to teach me how to serve?" He gleams up at you, eyes sparkling and full of love. The prodigy setter. You make a face at him and walk away.
You walk over behind the rear out-of-bounds line to practice your serves anyway. You feel him watching, but you don't care. Watching is no replacement for instruction.
Yet, at the same time, you love the kid. You love his optimism, his willingness to learn. He is so bright and only wants someone to help guide him. He wants you to help, but you are too afraid. Too afraid of replacement, too afraid of sharing.
Practice goes well. You mesh with your spikers; you know where they want the ball and why they want it there. You win your intrasquad scrimmage, but it's closer than you'd like. He's good.
After school, the first official match of the year. The draw was not the best, but Kitadai shouldn't have any problems with this team. Maybe they'll take a set off of you, but victory should easily be in hand.
In the middle of the first set, you're down 11-10. Kageyama is observing, watching, soaking up everything you're doing. He's learning, you're the better setter. Still, you feel his eyes boring into the back of your head. I have to be better. The toss is a touch high, but Iwaizumi hits it cleanly although you can tell he has to stretch.
"That was high." You nod.
I have to be better. Next set, to Kindaichi. He barely gets a hand on it, and it's hit lightly, right to their libero. They manage a set and spike of their own, and your side receives it well, right to you. Once more. A set to Iwaizumi, and once more, easy for the other side to receive.
You panic. Spike, receive, set, ... nothing. Cheers from the opposite site. "Don't mind, don't mind." Serve, receive, set; serve, receive, set; serve, receive, set; glare from the coach. "Oikawa." Gulp. Kageyama, holding the number 1 on his card. The world spins.
A view from the bench. Serve, receive, set, spike, cheer. The world spins a bit more. Someone serves, they look like you but they are not you. Service ace, the ball lands on the court untouched, and their lead is cut to three. Cheers once more, your teammate turns to you, opening his mouth to say something, and
you wait for the dream to end but it does not. "Oikawa-senpai," he says. You glare. He shies but returns once more. "You'll come back in soon. Kageyama's in for you to cool down and to get the spikers back in a rhythm for your return. He's not going to replace you."
You want to believe, you want to support and to love your junior. He's talented but so are you, you want to help and Kageyama wants to learn and grow and to love too. But he can tell that word echoes in your brain and you too can hear it. Replace.
A deep breath. It will be okay, I am important to this team and even to Tobio, you tell yourself. You regain composure, and look at the coach and your teammates firmly. I will not waver, I will lead us and we will win, you say with your eyes. They understand. Two plays later, you hold up his number, and you switch spots and he beams. "Good luck, Oikawa-senpai!" and you know he means it. You smile back at him, and give him a high five. "Thanks for covering for me."
You can feel his eyes from the right side of the court once more, but they're not harsh any more. Instead, his gaze is warm, of love and of learning, of growth and of support. The way you play, the way you connect with the spikers. Set, spike, point. The crowd cheers. 24-21, match point. You smile softly over at the bench, and meet his eyes. He smiles back.
Kitadai wins the match in straight sets, and you pull him into a hug and thank him for helping you calm down. He smiles wide, and you wait for the darkness and the red glow of the alarm clock to arrive but
it doesn't.