After the Rain

┊one.

Asahi set down his chopsticks gently, lying them on his place-mat, to the left of his bowl. His hands were large and clumsy when he dealt with anything besides a volleyball; chopsticks, particularly, were a challenge for him to use effectively when eating. They easily cramped his hands whenever he used them, because they were so slender, and his fingers too large to take hold of them.

Regardless, he didn't feel like eating much for lunch, anyways. He'd re-joined the volleyball team at school about a week ago, but in the days since, he'd felt uncomfortable trying to regain his feeling of belonging on the court with his team. There were new first-years playing, now, some that probably looked up to him for being Karasuno's ace. That made him nervous -- he'd cost his team the chance to go to nationals once, after he was completely shut out from scoring in the game against Datekougyou High, and he didn't want to do that again, in front of a team whose members he didn't know well. If he failed again, he thought, he'd never be able to forgive himself.

He'd always been told by his team that he had a glass heart, and that he was fragile. It was true, to a degree -- he was easily disheartened when he felt he couldn't live up to his team's expectations -- but more than that he was simply someone with a low self-confidence level. The team had always reminded him, "You're not alone," "Volleyball has six players to support each other," "We will take responsibility if you can't make it past the blockers," but most of that had sounded like white noise to Asahi. He still grew anxious, and he was still afraid to spike the ball, despite having an infinite amount of support from his team.

Even Nishinoya, Asahi thought, did not ease his nerves. The libero was the support to the ace -- in the sense of a volleyball match, when he saved the ball and kept it in play so that perhaps the ace may attempt to score again, and also in the sense of emotional support. If the ace lost faith when it seemed all his shots were being stopped, as if he felt he were being backed into a corner, the libero would be there to save each ball that dropped. The libero would always have the ace's back, no matter what, and maybe just knowing that there was someone to trust behind you would calm the ace. "Ace!" he would call out from somewhere on the ground below, panting heavily and covered in sweat, pushing himself to his limits. "Call for one more!"

But despite Karasuno's libero constantly trying to tell Asahi that he would always be supported from the blind spot behind him, where he couldn't see the ball, Asahi still did not have much faith in himself. And he couldn't understand why. He had all the support he would ever need from his team -- three receivers in the back, usually among them Daichi and Nishinoya, the players most skilled at saving missed shots -- but in the pit of his stomach he knew he would always dread trying to score with his spikes.

He pressed his fingers to his temples and closed his eyes tightly. The team had practice today after school. He'd see everyone then.

​With a small noise emitting from the back of his throat, Asahi stood from his seat. He'd decided he wasn't hungry anymore, and he didn't want to eat lunch. With shoulders hunched over and eyes glued to the floor, Asahi slipped himself away from the cafeteria, leaving his bowl of half-finished udon behind him.