WildFire

9

"Nakamura [Name]," you mumbled, glancing down at your hands. 

Introduction was always one of the worst parts of school in your opinion. 

At your old school, you were notorious for being rebellious against the teachers, and had almost no real friends. 

Somehow, without the safety of being in an environment you knew, you were as quiet and shy as someone could be. "I–er–look forward to meeting you all." 

Not really.

Slow applause echoed across the room, and you couldn't help but feel as if the deliberate slowness of it was mocking you. 

It made you feel sick, and you wondered if you would throw up the plain breakfast you had this morning–your father apparently did not know how to cook so you attempted to make an omelet. 

Fun Fact: apparently, too much pepper was not a good idea.

You sat down quickly, putting your head on your desk. 

You missed the one at your old school–the one that smelled faintly of the fresh lavender scented deodorizing spray your teacher liked so much. 

And another scent you missed? 

The smell of vanilla and salted caramel.

You shook your head, trying to distract yourself by focusing on your surroundings.

 A boy quickly finished his introduction a few moments afterwards, "My name's Hinata Shoyo! I want to be like the Little Giant one day!"

You watched, observing from your seat as he practically bounced towards his assigned desk–the one right next to yours. 

Hinata radiated brightness–as if he was a ball of sunshine himself. His hair was extremely fluffy and an unnatural orange color that grabbed your attention, but his eyes were a warm mud brown that sparked with excitement. 

He reminded you of a glowing ball of warmth. Either that or a tangerine.

You smiled at that thought, suppressing a snicker.

"Hi!" Hinata chirped at you, "I hope we can become good friends, Nakamura-san!"

"Ah–me too. Also, please, [Name] would be alright," you corrected, a bit uncomfortable with the surname after your parent's divorce. 

You didn't want to be your father's child nor your mother's–you were [Name], exactly as you were. 

You paused, then asked curiously, "Who's the Little Giant?"

"He's a volleyball player–the ace! He's super cool!" Hinata droned, suddenly becoming even more excited than he already was. "His spikes are like woosh and BAM!"

"Volleyball...?" you echoed quietly, tensing up. "You play volleyball?"

"Mhm!" Hinata agreed, determination glinting in his eyes. "I want to become the ace and go to nationals one day!"

Volleyball...You rubbed your temples, trying to stop your memories from flowing through.

 A sudden wave of sorrow and regret rushed through you and you closed your eyes, frowning.

"You play volleyball?" you asked, your eyes focused on Kunimi.

"Yeah, it's a hobby."

You winced at the memory of your childhood friend and Hinata tilted his head in concern. 

"[Name]-chan?" he asked, confused. "Are you okay?"

Right, this was a different school now–you had a different life now. 

You might have to see him again once you go back to your mother, but right now, what was important was to live your life to the fullest now. 

You didn't want to spend another three years of life just to look back upon it just to feel remorse.

"Yeah," you reassured Hinata. "I'm okay–just tired. You want to become the ace?"

He nodded enthusiastically, straightening. "Yep! The ace of a volleyball team is usually the spiker that they fear most. The ones with the spikes that go BAM! The ace is the one–"

"--the most threatening spiker." you finished, recalling the lesson Kunimi had given you only a year ago. 

You looked up wistfully, but refused to let more slip through your expression.

"Wah!" Hinata exclaimed, surprised. "You're so cool [Name]-chan–I never expected a girl to know so much! Do you play volleyball?"

"No, I have–had–a friend who played," you informed–your voice becoming slightly lower at the mention of Kunimi. You paused, then added with a less depressed tone, "I guess I do know how to play a little though. I'm pretty good at receiving balls–though my stamina sucks."

"I'm terrible at receiving," Hinata complained, holding out his hands with a pout. His eyes turned to you again, and you could see a hopeful glimmer in the warm brown. "Hey, [Name]-chan, can you help me improve my receives?"

You hesitated, about to refuse his offer. 

When you looked into his eyes and listened to him rant about volleyball–you couldn't help being reminded. 

Despite their personalities being day and night, you couldn't help but think about Kunimi whenever Hinata talked. There was that passion about volleyball in Kunimi and Hinata's eyes that you couldn't deny, though perhaps like the moon, Kunimi's spark of passion was less bright–less noticeable. They both had brown eyes that peered into you–though one with more light than the other. 

It was scary how many similarities you could make out.

There was one difference though that particularly stood out to you. 

Hinata was relying on you. 

When you were best friends with Kunimi, you depended on him–completely. It was perhaps a bit pathetic, but you did. 

Your heart would jump with delight at just the smallest compliment from him–your throat would close up every time you didn't see him. You put your faith and hope in him–not the other way around. 

At least that's what it seemed like to you.

Hinata was trusting you–hoping you would help him improve and thrive. 

Perhaps that little, insignificant detail was what made you give in. You didn't have to be close with Hinata–you weren't going to allow yourself to open yourself up completely again. Being left by people, yelled by people–people you loved–hurt. But he wasn't asking you to be close to him. So perhaps you could help him improve–nodding slowly you replied.

 "Sure."