The Setter's Help

A Brighter Glow

"Did I do that right?" You ask curiously as you turn towards the net, looking at your hands and arms. Kageyama walks toward you in concentration as he lifts your arms up with his hands; they were very soft and gentle for an athlete, you noticed. He didn't drag your limbs anywhere, just politely placing them where they were needed.

"Almost," he mumbles, distracted by focus as he corrects your form while you huff in frustration with yourself, turning down towards the floor, your eyes tracing the colored lines on the polished wood. "Relax, it isn't that bad. Your finger and your thumb were a little too far apart, that's why the ball doesn't have as much power and it keeps slipping. Try it again."

Sighing, you get back into positing, taking in his glance of determination as he squats to toss you the ball. You breathe in and out carefully, eyeing the ball with focus as it comes flying towards your chest.

Too low.

The toss was a good one, just a little low, so you knew you had to get under it, like he said. The ball is just centimeters closer when you recall everything he's been teaching you: getting under the ball, your form, the positions, back-row setting, racking your brain for a solution to getting under this as fast as possible. Then you remember. Just move your legs a little to the right, bend your knees and lower your stance, and you'll be fine. No fuss needed. The ball comes crashing in once your brain comes back in motion, your right foot slamming on the ground, your body getting just a tiny bit lower to the ground as you narrow your eyes toward your objective. You watch your thumbs get closer to your index fingers as you finally make contact with the ball, letting it fall into your hands, then pushing it upwards with the flick of your wrists, sending it out towards the middle front position.

The ball smacks the floor with an echo, your eyes shining. You did that right. At least, you assume so from how cool it looked. It wasn't much, since you set to a lower position, but the way the ball fell perfectly in your hands, like you were molding it to your will, was a feeling you didn't want to get rid of.

"That was so cool," you breathe out, your hands on your knees while you squint an eye at the ground, catching your breath. A smile appeared under your nose, the corners of your lips tugging upwards as you bite your lip. Maybe you had a slight chance.

"Looked good."

"What?" You shout, throwing your hands up as you walk towards him. "You gotta give me more than that, Kageyama, tell me what you really think." You look in his eyes, them refusing to show emotion towards you. At this point you knew that he was holding back, that he could do so much more but just doesn't know how. You planned to help him with that.

You could see the surprise in his face as his eyes widened, immediately looking away. He clears his throat, "your form was okay and your set was accurate," is all he says, turning completely around so his back could face you instead of his chest, his head shaking a couple times, as if to rid the mind of something, before he starts to lead himself away. You nod in understanding, thinking about the possible ways to fix that in your head next time.

"I'm heading out," he calls, grabbing his volleyball and strapping it over his shoulder.

"Mm, okay! Thank you! I can already tell I'm getting better," you spout to him cheerily, waving to him as he makes his way out. You were surprised by the amount of reaction on his face; you couldn't tell if he was shocked or surprised to hear something like that.

"Bye," he mutters. You could tell he took it as a compliment, as you meant it, and forgot how to react. All you did was smile, though. Smile at him as he leaves the gym, the door shutting loudly as he exits.