𝐀 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑 - 𝐦. 𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮

𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝟑𝟔

<3

you sat next to coach kurosu, kita on your left side, a clip board and paper in your lap. the paper had a column: player, attack, assists, serve recieve, digs, blocks.

each column had a few list of things to score. you had to keep track of inarizaki's hitting attempts, their kills, their service aces, service errors, whether their passes were a 3, 2, 1, 0, or a shank, and lastly their assist blocks and solo blocks.

it was a lot, but you sure you would manage. this was your "initiation" after all.

you glanced up at the stands where you found your mom and the miya's mom as well, a nervous smile adorning their lips. they both tried their best to put on a more relaxed smile as they gave you a reassuring nod.

you returned the gesture before turning back to the court. you watched as the teams shook hands, muttering 'good luck' to one another.

kita looked over your shoulder, scowling at your sheet.

"that looks like a lot," he murmured, making you pull your eyes away from the court.

"yeah, it's my initiation. wanna help me?" you asked, a small smile pulling at your lips.

he hummed lightly, "not really." he said that, but you knew he would if you asked him again.

you watched as the boys gathered in the middle of the court for a quick talk before all walking to their respective spots. atsumu stepped over the service line, turning towards the score table and holding his hand up expectantly.

he glanced over at you, offering a short smile.

you mouthed the words, "good luck."

atsumu grinned, giving you a quick wink.

it was unsettling. because why? why did he keep doing that? why did he keep acting like nothing was wrong one minute, then avoid you the next?

then again, maybe you couldn't say anything. there were days that you felt so overwhelmed with everything that you avoided him too. you sighed to yourself. you hated whatever horrible dance this was with atsumu. but you couldn't stop.

one of the people at the score table tossed him a ball. atsumu spun the ball in his hands, the smile he wore just seconds ago gone.

he tossed it into the air, his palm making contact with the ball with a loud slap.

not to their libero.

you held your breath as the ball shot across the court. right to the libero. what a perfect way to start the game.

atsumu's face pulled into a wince as motoya received his serve effortlessly—he was putting his serves to shame.

this was going to be a long match.

-

itachiyama had managed to get a hand on every one of inarizaki's hits.

inarizaki held their own, getting a few touches and ups, though it was hard to counter their star player, sakusa.

as if that wasn't enough, atsumu's sets weren't as refined as they usually were. after a play he would glance down at his injured pinky, his face pulling into a grimace.

the score was currently 22 - 24. coach kurosu stood up with an exasperated sigh, calling a time out. the boys quickly came in, their hair sticking to their foreheads, and their chests rising and falling unevenly.

you stayed seated, listening to them talk. you were trying think of some way to make sakusa's hits easier on the team, but you couldn't come up with anything.