Ushijima Wakatoshi's team had a two-month training program at the university in this foreign country. It was a chance to play with foreign players and foreign teams— an experience and exposure they needed to broaden their viewpoints. Though his viewpoints had certainly been broadened the first time he saw you. Even the best liberos would need to take a certain amount of experience in order to receive a ball he spikes on a regular basis but you received it without any problem.
He doesn't doubt your physical abilities. He had felt your arms and hands up close to confirm the callouses and how they haven't been neglected to disappear. But he will not acknowledge someone like that, who was so confident in the path they were taking. He doesn't understand your intentions nor to where someone like you was headed. He was sure. Someone like you could only remain an athlete. Yet seeing you so confident in your decision didn't sit well with him.
He had followed your menu to the last detail, wondering how such a thing could help and how he couldn't see anything wrong with it. And strangely, his arms were more flexible and could exert more power when he willed it to. But distractions weren't needed even in a practice match.
"Ushiwaka!" The setter gives him a high toss. And he runs up and jumps, three blockers in the way. He suddenly remembers the words and the advice you scribble down, never having the chance to put it into use in an actual match. His eyes flare up as he slams the ball and his arms twist to direct it into the direction he wants it to go. It flew past the blockers in a nasty angle as it lands on the opposite side of his position. The ball ricochets afterwards from the impact.
The other stopped, in awe of what he just did. "That's a magnificent inner cross, Ushijima!" His team exclaimed and he only nodded. But his mind was on other things. It could've been a coincidence. But even if it was, he'll just have to try again to make sure. And strangely enough, all his doubts were answered that day.
"Ushiwaka's on a roll."
"As expected of one of the top spikers in highschool."
He could hear the praises in the background as he panted. But it didn't look like he was pleased. His eyes widened in realization.
It worked. Your training menu worked. His brown furrowed as he suddenly wears his varsity jacket.
"Where are you going?" his teammate asked and he answers. "I'm taking a run."
He steps outside, looking at the familiar afternoon sun. He was taking a run to clear his head. He needed to think. And strangely enough, he stumbles upon you.
You were taking your usually route and you spotted him looking at you. Though you had to admit that it was impossible to miss a guy with that kind of raw power and aura leaking around him.
"Goliath!" You beam as you saw him. You were on your afternoon run and you wondered why he was there, as this was usually the time he should still be inside the gym, practicing. "Want to run?" You ask and he only looks at you before nodding.
You kept up with his pace. He may have long legs but you've done track in the past so it wasn't a big deal. But for some reason he had a scowl on his face although he always does look like he always has one on his face. "You don't usually run at this time." You comment and he keeps silent. What's the problem now? You thought hard. He isn't the type to be frustrated about practice, unless...
"It worked, didn't it?" You grin and you see his calm expression shatter in a split second before it returned to the usual.
"It did." He says and you frown. This was a challenge for him to acknowledge you and hearing him being so forward that you won wasn't fun. He looks like his opponents wouldn't have fun seeing his face even if he loses. But that wasn't what mattered. You remember something popping up in your head.
"Ah! I revised some of the routine to accommodate your body type." You say and he stops short.
He had been given training menus before, overall done in the club so everyone could train the same way. But this was beyond his expectations.
"You create menus for specific body types?"
"Ah no." You answer. "I create menus for specific people."
A shiver creeps down his spine. It was already a handful creating training guides for a group of people but to think you would do it for an individual. He knew the amount of work needed to pull that off as well as what kind of knowledge you had to possess in order to be credible enough to do it.
"It's my sidejob. I create menus for anyone who wants it."
"You observe different sports because of this?" He guesses. You nod. "I can only design guides in increasing skill sets I already know."
'Already knows, she says'. He couldn't help but think about it, as sweat uneasily slides down from the sides of his face.
You've figured out how some of his though process works, and you couldn't help but want to refute some of it. But this was a perfect time for a lecture so you might as well tell him.
"Foundation doesn't matter in sports, Goliath." You say to him. "Even a player with the poorest foundation could reach the top provided they're given good training."
He says nothing. But you grin slyly.
"If a crow could win against an eagle, it doesn't change the fact that the crow won even if they had the poorest foundation." His eyes widen slightly at your analogy.
"You've seen my matches?" He asks. "It isn't hard to obtain a copy." You grinned. And how else would you know what type of body he has. You needed to know how he used to play before you could assess how far he could exert himself. And how to best do that.
He remembers your words.
"Average." You say towards him. He looks at you but you know, judging from the look on his face. He knows. Among players all over the world, he could just be average.
"I'll make you strong." You suddenly declare and his eyes widened.
"Why?"
"I like idiots." You grinned.
"But my fees aren't really low." You look at him. "So how do you intend to repay me?" You tease him.
"With my body."
"Don't say that with a straight face."
You know what he meant. He was willing to be treated like a guinea pig for your training guides. But why does he have such a poor choice of words? Well, it didn't matter, you can't complain. He was a high-spec guinea pig anyway.
"Only one thing matters in sports anyway." You say as you look far ahead.
"Winning." You say, bloodlust oozing from your eyes.
Ushijima Wakatoshi looks at you once again, his lips in a straight line. Foreigners were really something.
— Some days later —
Norrie lazily accompanied you to the gym as she yawns. You had insisted on having her tagged along since it was awkward for you to the the only one to be there.
You look at Ushijima approaching and you give him a knowing look, ready to fully assess how his body works. "Alright. Goliath, let me touch you." You say with determination.
"You're already in that phase???" Norrie says in surprise.
Ushijima nods at you and removes his varsity jacket.
"He's letting you do it???"
"What are you talking about?" You say to her, wondering why she was making such a fuss as you brought out a chart and a measuring tape.
"What is this for anyway?" She says.
"Training." Bot hyou and Ushijima say in unison with a serious look on your faces.