𝐂𝐡 𝟏 —— 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤
Konishi Chiharu grit his teeth and marched against the frostbiting wind.
His ear-length hair violently thrashed behind him, as if struggling to keep up. Instead of the usual soft wave-like strands, it was now a tsunami. Despite the lack of sunlight, his hair was so vibrantly auburn that it shone pink.
The sky was gray. Winter was in full swing. It created a desaturated backdrop for Chiharu's brightly colored form. The wind was merciless and the clouds were one harsher gust away from snowfall. Chiharu's gloves rendered useless as his hands went numb. He rubbed his hands together in a lame attempt to produce any kind of heat.
Mujinazaka's volleyball team was one of high demand. While other high school students slept in and got a healthy eight hours, Chiharu hauled his body up a pair of slipery, cold stairs to head to the Volleyball Clubroom at six in the morning. He shivered and adjusted his heavy coat to pull the collars impossibly higher. Underneath the thick winter coat was a plain orange shirt poorly matching a clashing blue pair of shorts. Other than the tiresome schedule, the team was also blessed with an atrocious color palette.
Chiharu hugged his volleyball dufflebag closer to his body, as he took one last streneous step. He used up the remaining strength in his hands— which had gone blue by now— to dramatically shove open the Clubroom door. Then, he strutted through the door with great purpose, like the star of his own reality show.
Warm air conditioning immediately wrapped its arms around him, dusting the icy bitterness off his skin. Chiharu raked an unfeeling hand through his pink hair, before ripping off his gloves. He let the tingly warmth travel into his fingertips before shrugging off his coat.
"Good morning." He droned with the usual greeting on instinct before really comprehending the rest of the cast inside the Clubroom.
He walked past the setter, Usuri. The boy had a pencil in hand, furiously scribbling in a notebook. He wore a terrifyingly concentrated expression that definitely never showed up when he was doing math problems. Chiharu concluded Usuri must have been jotting down new plays he could try. God forbid Usuri ever got into any serious relationship, because he was a master of manipulation on the court.
Behind Usuri sat the second year Libero, Bishin. Due to Chiharu also playing the same position, as well as having higher accuracy, Bishin was a frequent visitor of the bench during games. What earned him Chiharu's respect was how he was forever a good sport about it. He would most likely inherit the starting position once Chiharu graduated this year.
Bishin was a frisky player, often pulling off insane stunts from his amazing athletic ability alone. His personality was energetic and all over the place. Yet he was currently sitting uncharacteristically still as his teammate quite literally used him as a pillow.
The sleeping one in question was Subaru, second year outside hitter. His eyes were peacefully closed as he squished his head against Bishin's shoulder, likely attempting to catch up on sleep he didn't get last night. Chiharu didn't bother him, as he understood how important sleep was for the growing body. Not that he would know because he was forever stuck at 179 centimeters, a rather average height for a volleyball player in a sea of giants. Subaru could hold his own quite well on the court, but was definitely in need of more experience. In fact, after this year, Subaru would officially take on the title of 'Ace' after the current ace graduated.
Speaking of the current ace...
"Good morning, Captain!" Chiharu saluted politely. Too politely.
"Oh, no." He heard Kiryu mumble under his breath. Kiryu paused in the middle of mixing powdered protein into his water. His eyes danced frantically before he simply sat back and accepted his fate. Chiharu was a lovable person and an even better libero, but he definitely relished in Wakatsu Kiryu's torment sometimes. The captain pushed his thoughts away and awaited whatever stunt was to come today.
A wide smile immediately crept onto Chiharu's face.
"Question of the day," Chiharu announced, as if it'd been a daily thing they'd been keeping up for a while and not just something he came up with on the spot. "Would you punch a teammate for a thousand yen?"
"What—? That's so—" Random. That was so random, was what Kiryu was trying to say. He was unfortunately cut off by his own exasperated facepalm. Konishi Chiharu was stubborn as a mule. He wouldn't let Kiryu leave unless his burning question was answered. Bothering Kiryu was Chiharu's profession, afterall. His skill at the task was unparalleled.
Thus, Kiryu very genuinely thought about the question for a moment.
As the captain of the team and the person they relied on, he should say no, right? Punching a teammate would be unethical. And also he could ruin relationships. But one thousand yen did sound nice... Would he literally screw up the dynamic of the team if he answered 'yes' to this hypothetical scenario?
His eyes scanned the volleyball players scattered around the Clubroom. Some were awaiting his answer while trying to hide their obvious amusement, others were extremely concentrated on jumping up and trying to hang onto the ceiling fan for reasons unbeknownst to Kiryu. Then, there was Konishi, smugly leaning against his locker.
"Can I choose who I punch?" Kiryu asked, as shook his head and fought to contain his smile at how ridiculous the whole ordeal was.
"Yes. So, what's your decision?"
Kiryu paused. "Can I phone a friend first?" He looked to Usuri, who returned a thumbs-up in his direction. To any outsider, the gesture looked like loving encouragement. But Kiryu knew deep down that it meant "you're on your own, buddy."
"Nope." Chiharu barked a laugh with dimples in his cheek.
"Interesting." Kiryu crossed his arms, his protein drink long forgotten. "It's settled then. I'd punch you in the face for a thousand yen."
"He'd probably do it for free, Haru-san." Usuri chirped in, pulling his practice jersey over his head. "He'd punch you in the face for honor alone."
"Pfft— 'for honor'..." Chiharu bursted into a fit of laughter, before an extremly exaggerated gasp took over his expression. "Hey, wait! No one said it had to be in the face!"
In one of the rare instances Kiryu didn't overthink, he blurted, "No, but it would shut you up for a while."
And the Clubroom erupted. Literal steam was coming from the strings of 'ohhhhhhh's and 'he got you good!'s.
Chiharu dramatically slid down the metal lockers and melted onto the ground. "Captain! You would throw your favorite Libero under the bus like this?"
"It's not 'would'; He already did." Unnan shrugged. "The bus has run you over and is at the next station already."
Unretained laughter rang throughout the whole Clubroom. Chiharu pretended to be heartbroken for approximately .3 seconds before his facade fell apart. Still on the ground, he reached out a bruised forearm and gripped onto the edge of a locker as his other hand clutched his stomach as he laughed.
Kiryu had a small chuckle; his eyes paused on Chiharu's knobbly limbs. Ugly bruises were scattered along his forearm, some old and others as fresh as yesterday. Identical bruises bloomed throughout the higher parts of his legs, as if they were a sick accentuation for his hard-earned muscle.
The lockeroom began to clear out. Chatter amongst the teammates became complaints against the cold as soon as someone pushed the Clubroom door open. Chiharu, realizing he'd been too busy horsing around to prepare for practice, began to collect his equipment. With a slight tremble, he reached for the top locker with his sore arms.
Kiryu had known of Chiharu's habit of overworking himself for a long time now. Ever since their first year on the team together, it was clear that Chiharu would slam himself straight into a hardwood floor if it meant he could save a ball that was hitting the ground. He would do anything for the game, without a shred of doubt or second thoughts. Kiryu figured that some part of Chiharu was probably drunk on some savior complex. The delicious fact that he, as the libero, was the one to provide new hope for a nearly dead ball. Another part of him was likely trying desperately to live up to the expectations that came with being labled one of the nation's top liberos.
No one would understand that more than Kiryu himself.
The clubroom was empty except for the two third-years. "Hey, Haru-san." Kiryu uttered before he could control himself. Then, he paused to craft his next words to be precise. "Try... Not to push yourself too hard."
"Aw, thank you for your care, Captain." Chiharu chuckled.
"I'm serious."
Chiharu opened his mouth to argue, but quickly closed it upon seeing the earnest, genuine shine in Kiryu's eyes. The upside to being a chronic overthinker was that Kiryu carefully constructed his every word. He always meant what he said; especially now. He'd even put on his 'game-face'. The expression that only showed up during volleyball matches when he was completely dedicated. It was his absolute and truest form, so Chiharu found no place to argue anymore.
"Fine." Chiharu smiled, "Same to you, Waka-chan." He pulled his kneepads over his purple knees, and pushed open the Clubroom door to be hit with a gust of icy wind.
⌜ • ° + ° • ⌝
Chiharu understood Kiryu's good intentions. He had a caring heart and constantly looked out for Chiharu. And it wasn't like Chiharu didn't want to listen... but practice began with Chiharu earning a beautiful courtburn on his arm. One more for the collection! It would seem that he was incapable of going easy on himself.
He understood the basics of diving for a ball. He understood how to do it safely. However, he still made some devastating crash landings simply from the speed of the gamplay. There was no time to think when mere miliseconds were the determiner for victory or loss. It was simply the most efficient to throw every available piece of himself toward the ball. So, Chiharu sprinted at every shanked ball, dove under every block, and crashed into the bench once or twice.
In doing so, he provided clean set ups for the team's attacks. Who could criticize his methods if he had results?
Another serve rushed onto his side of the court with amazing speed. Chiharu's eyes blew wide in concentration. "I got it," He barely had enough time to say, before dropping into a low squat. The sheer speed of the ball felt like a gust of wind had been thrown in his face. His purpled arms were stoic and stable against all odds, and the ball rose into a fresh rainbow. The reward after harsh weather: a clean rainbow pass, right to the setter.
"I wish I could get this serious about warm ups." A first-year shrugged, slacking and watching from the sidelines. His peers snickered around him, before they were told off for standing around.
Even if Chiharu were not equipped with his current skillset, his sheer will to go all out for every miniscule thing would be enough to make him a strong player. That was what everyone on the team learned as they spent more time on the same team as Konishi Chiharu. His skill was quite scary but his immense effort was terrifying.
Watching it all happen from across the net, Kiryu sighed and shook his head to himself. Chiharu was stubborn off the court, and he was arguably more stubborn on it.
After a decent round of drills, Coach Kuzuri strolled in looking like a hard-boiled egg. She was not a morning person and six o'clock practice didn't do her favors.
The team formed a practiced huddle as soon as the first syllable of Kiryu's strong "Gather round!" hit the air.
Coach Kuzuri was a hawk. She was observant and efficient with her actions. She was bold and unafraid to have strong opinions. One could tell that just from her confident stance and strong presence.
The coach scanned each player's face like a machine, and stopped as her eyes landed on Chiharu.
"Addressing the bigger news first," She announced, her voice stern as usual, "Konishi-kun, we heard back from the U19 selections about your situation."
Everything inside the massive gym seemed to suddenly go silent. The short moment of silence dragged on and on. Birds sang and chirped anticipating tones outside, and the air was fresh and thin.
Ah, the Asian U19 Volleyball Championship. They'd selected Kiryu as part of the Japan team months back but were pending on Chiharu's decision until today. Chiharu had attended the All-Japan youth training camp for the past two years. In his humble opinion, the results were that he absolutely crushed it both times. As the date of the Championship fell on later this August, third-years like himself were no longer required to attend the camp this year. However, that also meant they would either face an invitation to join the youth national team, or a rejection.
Unbeknownst to Chiharu, his hands were shaking by his side.
He felt that if this silence lasted a second longer, his heart would beat so fast that he'd throw it up. All-Japan was dangling the treat of the highest level of play and countless new opportunities right before Chiharu's face. Right in front of him, Cihharu smelled success. He was almost close enough to put his finger on it.
Although it wasn't going to be the end of the world if he didn't get selected. In fact, his failiure could motivate him to work even harder. Yet despite all that, as he stared the opportunity in the face, Chiharu imagined the rejection.
He pondered what it would feel like to watch the Youth Championship from a TV at home. It was a gut wrenching feeling. The taste of failure was sickening. So, Chiharu attempted to tear his thoughts away from the negative.
"Alright, hit me!" He exclaimed, hands on gripping hard on hips to stop the shake.
"Basically, they're still pending their decision on you." Coach Kuzuri deadpanned.
Bright dreams of success soon disappeared from view, hiding behind dreadful clouds of the waking reality. Chiharu didn't know if being waitlisted was better than knowing he was cut from the team. But, he did know that he had just gone through about nineteen stages of grief only to hear that his results were continuing to stay inconclusive.
"They called just to say that they're still on the fence?" Chiharu spat bitterly.
"Well, yes but no. They wanted you to know that they're trying to see how you perform at the Spring Tournament this year. They'll give you a call sometime in January to let you know their final decision." Kuzuri explained. She then snickered at Chiharu when his face fell to a pout. "Aw, you'll be okay, kid."
"That's all from those guys." She clasped her hands together gleefully.
"Maybe they're trying to see how well you handle the stress of being put on hold for so long." Nozomu, like the tall-ass tree he was, bent himself down slightly and gave Chiharu a pat on the head.
"So far, not so good." Unnan shrugged nonchalantly at Chiharu's miserable expression.
"This is why no one likes you, Unnan." Nozomu crossed his arms defensively.
The two quickly spiraled into a not-so-civilized debate before Coach Kuzuri kindly told them to shut up.
"One more thing," She said loudly, redirecting the conversation, "Nationals is in two months and eleven days."
As soon as being reminded of this, each player instinctively tightened up, determined.
"If you do well—" Coach cleared her throat, "—You won't have to walk home from Tokyo." Then she clapped her hands, signalling the players away.
⌜ • ° + ° • ⌝
"I can't believe they're still trying to make up their damn mind!" Chiharu aggressively kicked at a jagged pebble across the concrete road. He shrugged his dufflebag higher up his back and childishly shoved his hands into his pockets. "Everything about this makes me terribly nervous, and I've never been this stressed before."
He continued to stomp down the winding, rocky path. To his left were farm fields and leaning telephone poles. The sunset nicely painted the barren trees and made them look lively again. Birds on the telephone poles held chirping meetings and called to each other.
To his right was Kiryu, who'd finally gotten around to sipping on his protein drink. "You can't blame them." The ace said, "They're selecting from fourty-something elite players throughout the whole country. All with different backgrounds and things they excell at. They also have to see how well the team they choose would work together. It's a lot to consider"
"Tch— Easy for you to say, seeing as they actually gave you an answer." Chiharu scowled at the ridiculously strenuous process of his decision, while comparing it to Kiryu's almost immediate recruitment.
"Well, the fact that they even reached out to let you know what they did, means that they want you to know they're interested in seeing more of you."
"Or, they're trying to scare me, which is what I would do."
"The national team isn't as immature as you."
"Good point."
Winter exhaled oncemore, making Chiharu sink his head further into his heavy orange scarf. The two walked in brief silence. Small chunks of rocks crunched beneath their shoes, and that was the only thing they heard besides the whooshes of the wind.
Feeling a bit empty, Chiharu soon heard his stomach growl.
"Don't you miss being at the Youth camps?" Chiharu asked offhandedly, remembering the joy of All-Japan, "We could be eating the training center's luxurious food right now."
Kiryu laughed lightly. "Sometimes the responsibility of being a third-year is heavy. I wish I could travel back in time instead of worrying about the future."
Reminiscing the good times, Chiharu smiled. He thought back to his star-struck awe at just how amazing every other player was. Players from all over the country, united for their collective passion for volleyball. How amazing was that?! He remembered the glossy smell of the polished courts; the squeaking shoes; the amusing chatter that echoed.
He remembered Sakusa Kiyoomi. The unsociable first-year he'd met in his own second year of the Youth camp.
It would seem that Kiryu thought of him too. "I bet that gloomy kid you were with last year is rushing to claim a bath before the others." The ace huffed a laugh.
Chiharu shoved at Kiryu's shoulder. "That's horribly presumptuous of you." He exclaimed half-heartedly. "You're probably right, though. I hope he's making friends." Chiharu sighed. He pulled his phone out of his pant-pocket to scroll down his 'contacts' list for Sakusa's number. Surely, he had it somewhere.
The libero casually lifted his chin up. He looked at the blurry sun that hid behind the clouds, preparing to disappear beneath the horizon. It resembled a falling volleyball, he thought. Chiharu felt a new rush of excitement.
"Man, I can't wait to see everyone at Nationals." He smiled.