"Clara-chan, I'm going to miss you... and your cooking." Yachi Hitoka says, teary-eyed and you blinked.
"Are you sure you don't want to go to Karasuno?" She says, sniffing and you have to answer.
"Hitoka-chan, I'm a college student."
"Didn't you already checked four times too?" Karasuno's captain asks their manager with a sigh and you could only laugh.
You smiled nervously as you looked at the lot of them.
Some players from other teams were asking each other's contact info. The captains were talking among themselves and surprisingly, even your doggo was in on the mix.
Ushijima Wakatoshi was being asked by the spikers and the athlete was replying in earnest.
That's right. It's a rare chance to talk to professional players. So seeing this scene was just right. Who knows when will be the next time they'd be able to do this? So yes, this was just right. Players have to make the most of such a chance. You nod approvingly as you looked at them.
And another group seemed to have the same thing in mind as they look at the same view. "Oh wow. The kids are going at it." Tendo Satori looks at the site with a surprised and an approving expression.
Beside him, the Shiratorizawa alumni also watched as their former captain answers some questions from the young players. It felt like yesterday when only a handful of highschool students were able to muster up their courage to talk to the professional athlete.
Now, there was actually a lot more who were able to do so.
"I never thought I'd see the day when Wakatoshi would be able to talk to so many players." Semi couldn't help but say.
Looking back at it, they've only seen their former captain be able to talk to players outside Shiratorizawa on very few occasions, the most notable one being his conversation with Sakusa Kiyoomi. But that was already some time ago and it looks like Ushijima Wakatoshi's days would be less silent now.
"Isn't this expected?" Reon muses.
"Yeah. Since wouldn't it be harder to talk to him as years go by?"
"Tell me about it."
"Which reminds me..."
"Have you asked for an advice already, Goshiki?" Yamagata asked and the former setter answered for the brooding highschooler.
"He already did. Though he look like he has other plans right now."
And when they looked at the current Shiratorizawa ace, they somehow knew exactly what he was thinking as they follow his line of sight.
Yup, though it's a rare chance to talk to a professional athlete, it's even rarer to talk to an international athlete.
They knew they were spot on when a certain bowl cut had been staring at you intensely for a while now.
Though... why is he not doing anything at all?
"Are you sure you won't be asking for any advice?" Shirabu Kenjirou asks the current Shiratorizawa ace.
"B-But... it's my rival's trainer." Goshiki says, puffing his chest out and the former players could only look at him and back to Shirabu.
Why does this situation look pretty familiar?
"Hmmm." The former setter looks at him, his stares containing the same message from a few years back.
'You still have that unnecessary pride?'
"Hmmmmm." The former setter continues to glare at his junior, the message being written on the way he was staring.
'I thought you already changed, you bowl-cut brat.'
"C-Clara-san!" You suddenly hear Goshiki Tsutomu shout nervously as he runs towards you and you could only blink.
—
You bid the teams goodbye as you see them off. Hitoka-chan wasn't letting you go for some reason and you had to thank the Karasuno captain for being able to convince her.
You sigh as you walk back, feeling a little bit nostalgic as you gaze at the incoming dusk and the view of the court.
And unsurprisingly, you see a familiar silhouette when you returned back to the gym.
Ushijima Wakatoshi's figure stood there and you couldn't help but grin at the familiar site.
He was standing there in the middle of the court, a basket of volleyball beside him and your gaze softens at the view.
It was just you and him.
Like how the two of you normally practices.
The site was somehow endearing to look at.
Though there was something strange about the way he was looking into space— like he was solving a problem or something.
Very out of character for him, you believe.
So you went to his direction and tugged the edge of his shirt to get his attention. But to think he was a little slow on the uptake.
"What are you thinking of?" You tilted your head but he only shakes his head absentmindedly.
"...Nothing."
Lies.
Does he not know he has a habit of looking away or delaying when he lies? It doesn't suit his face too, considering how you could easily read him.
"Should we play a little volleyball before we head back?" You ask and his attention immediately shifts.
His moment of thinking hard was suddenly disrupted, and he pauses before he looks around. And he finally realizes.
It was just the two of you.
Just the two of you in the volleyball court.
❀
He immediately picks up a volleyball and he nods.
You laughed at the familiar site and yes, this is more like him.
You stood there on the opposite side of the court as you wait for him to serve.
It was a game you were always used to playing with him— an endless game of attack and receive. You see a couple of people peeking in from the gym entrance though you really didn't mind them.
You couldn't let your guard down when you were playing volleyball with him like this.
Truthfully, you often found it strange how he never gets tired of this kind of training.
But to a man who was always the first and the last to practice on the court, perhaps playing with someone like this was a privilege he doesn't always get to have.
You catch a glimpse of the way he raises his arms and a memory of the form he used to have when you first saw him invites itself in your head.
And you remember. You have been training him indefinitely for two years now, giving him all sorts of menus he was ready to be a guinea pig of— and how such a thing came to be because he said he was going to pay your trainer fees with his body.
But looking at him now, he was a far cry from how he was back then.
What were those training menus for? Those nights of endlessly analyzing and training?
You couldn't help but ask as you saw the way he spikes that ball with a force that made your arms sting.
It's for him.
You didn't asked why he agreed to go to this training camp. But perhaps he came here to glance at a memory— of who he was or what he was, as an athlete.
And you know what he was, at the very least.
Ushijima Wakatoshi had always unleashed all of the power on his arm as if he was an archer unleashing a bow. It was something that looked majestic, awe-inducing, and perhaps the embodiment of how an eagle carries itself in the vast sky.
But your menus didn't helped enhance that method.
In fact, it broke it.
Because no matter how majestic or powerful it looked, a strong spike that's easy to read will only lead to a battle of power, of resistance and of stability. In the professional scene where everyone has always given it their all, the chances of an absolute point were slim.
But what if he could spike it with more power and with less indication of where he was hitting?
And when he jumped up, the bystanders who were passing by blinked when they saw it, not being able to tell what direction the spike will go to.
And surprisingly... not even you.
You could only confirm it a second after his hand slammed it down.
"A cross?!"
You immediately ran, cursing underneath your breath.
But you hear the reverberating sound of that spike as the ball hit the floor and you failed to receive it.
You failed to receive it. You weren't holding back. In fact, you were in full alert.
But it was the first time.
It was the first time he had actually succeeded.
And when he realized what he had done, he stood there, a little breathless. He stared at you for a while as if he was just processing what happened and you did the same, before you broke out in a grin.
An image of an eagle suddenly opening up its wings was being seen in the vicinity.
You suddenly run to him.
"GOLIAAATH, YOU DID IT!" You say excitedly as you jumped up to hug him and he immediately catches you by holding your waist in surprise.
He watches the way you seemed so bright under the last rays of the setting sun, on this volleyball court, happy with a spike that you yourself failed to receive.
Odd.
How odd.
Shouldn't you be frustrated? Mad?
Until he realized.
Ahh... That's right.
You were, and have always been... his trainer.
From the very start, this was something you have already expected to see.
Of course you'll be happy because he was successful for the first time.
That was a given.
But even if he was surprised and pleased with the outcome, something else was being stirred inside of him.
This wasn't the excitement from a spike succeeding in passing your defenses.
No.
That wasn't it.
Something so untimely was reverberating in his head.
It was truly something so unexpected, something so strange, and perhaps something out of place.
And he was thinking of such a thing.
To think he would be thinking of such a thing.
But he couldn't help it.
His eyes wouldn't move.
It stared at your smiling, excited face— at how your turquoise eyes shone as how sapphire would when it gets hit by the sunlight... at how your cheeks lift up to form a big smile... at how the familiar scent of spring was there in the middle of summer...
And he stared— as if memorizing every line, every color, every expression.
And he could only think of one thing.
You were beautiful.
Ah.
But why was a long-known fact making its way on his head now?
And along with it, he suddenly feels it as you get down and made your way back to the other side of the court.
The echoes of your footsteps reverberates inside the gym, the sound of you walking away repeating in his ears, as if it was a reminder.
He sees the way you smile so casually, picking up the ball.
What is this?
He felt like there were chains suddenly being wrapped in his body.
Strange.
This was strange.
He was positive people normally felt pleased once they're subjected to such a site. But no.
That didn't feel like that.
It doesn't feel like that at all.
In fact, why does he feel... suffocated?