𝟸 & 𝟺

-one-

"Cmon Y/N! Get your head up! It's not over!"

"We're running that play again! You got it this time!"

"If you send it higher, she'll definitely smash it down the side."

"Aoba Johsai doesn't stand a chance...I mean their defence is lacking now."

"Remember the decoy in the back, it doesn't work if you don't follow through."

"Then after get the right side to open up so Y/N can have a defined line shot."

"Cross court if it goes south, but you got it either way!"

"Team, make sure the Libero has a clear view from the opposing serve, we can't shadow their view."

"Make the connection from the first pass as clear as as possible. Doesn't have to be perfect..."

"I got back 6, anyone need help for 5?"

"Front 3 needs some line help, we keep getting attacks on that one line."

"Try and move back 1 up, that's you after serve Manami!"

"Make sure Aihara also has a good point down the left side."

"And don't get inside your head!"

The last words that Michimiya said did just that. They stuck in my head.

I was already in my head since the beginning of the game.

"Hey did you notice that Oikawa guy keeps looking to you. Shouldn't he be doing that for his own team?"

"Sasaki, we appreciate the concern but we have a game to play."

"That's definitely something for them to figure out."

I watch as the whistle blows, to introduce us back onto the court.

I look to the stands. My friends and what I have of my family sit and watch the game attentively.

The seat next to the group remains empty. No surprise, it's been like that for a week now.

But the pain doesn't go away. You think it does but it sits and builds up until you realize it's too late to confront it.

The referees lead us onto the court, and we line up at the end line.

Set 5, final set.

I wonder if I'll ever want to hear that whistle blow again.

***

You awoke from an all too familiar dream that was continuously stuck on repeat. You looked over to your clock as the red digits blurred in your morning vision.

7:12 am they read.

You slowly rose from your sheets, stretching out your arms above your head and looking out to the window across your bed. The sky was clear, and no clouds were invited to disturb that beauty.

It was going to be a great day, you thought.

All the while pedalling back on that thought, dialling back the optimism. You were never one for over the top hope and junk.

You were more pessimistic. Every bad thing seemed to be more inclined to happen anyways. Why try and rewrite the story when the draft and notes have already been set in place?