Echoes of Tomorrow.

TWENTY

The days that followed Tendou's passing were a blur of muted conversations and hushed condolences. Ushijima moved through the motions, each step weighed down by an unbearable heaviness. The team had rallied around him, offering support and comfort, but the emptiness inside him was profound and unyielding.

He found himself standing in front of the mirror, his reflection a stark reminder of the person he had been with Tendou by his side. The vibrant, laughing presence that had filled his life was now a haunting absence, a silence that echoed in every corner of his world.

Returning to practice was the hardest. The volleyball court, once a place of shared dreams and relentless ambition, felt desolate. Ushijima's movements were mechanical, his focus fractured. Every spike, every serve, every familiar drill brought memories of Tendou flooding back.

"Ushiwaka," a voice called out gently, breaking his reverie.

It was Goshiki, his expression a mix of concern and understanding. "Take it easy today. We all understand."

Ushijima nodded, appreciating the kindness but feeling a deep need to keep pushing, to keep moving. Stopping meant facing the full weight of his grief, and he wasn't sure he could bear it.

In the quiet moments, when he was alone in his apartment, the reality of Tendou's absence became inescapable. He found himself reaching for his phone, wanting to share a thought or a joke, only to remember that Tendou would never answer again. The silence was deafening.

The letters Tendou had written sat on his bedside table, unopened. Ushijima wasn't ready to read them, wasn't ready to face the finality of those written words. Instead, he clung to the memories—the sound of Tendou's laughter, the warmth of his smile, the way he had always believed in Ushijima.

One night, unable to sleep, Ushijima found himself sitting on the floor of Tendou's old room. The walls were adorned with posters of their favorite players, mementos of matches, and photos of their happiest moments together. He picked up a framed picture of the two of them, their faces glowing with youthful exuberance and hope.

A tear slipped down his cheek, followed by another, until he was crying freely, the pent-up sorrow and pain breaking through his stoic facade.

He cried for the loss of his bestfriend, for the man he had come to love.

For the dreams they had shared.

For the future that now seemed uncertain without Tendou by his side.

He cried for the unfairness of life.

For the suddenness of death that had robbed him of someone so dear.

As the tears subsided, a sense of clarity emerged amidst the grief. Ushijima realized that honoring Tendou's memory meant more than just remembering him; it meant finding a way to carry forward the spirit of their bond. Slowly, he began to open the letters Tendou had left behind, allowing himself to confront the words that would offer both solace and pain.

In the days that followed, Ushijima found a quiet resilience within himself. He returned to the volleyball court with a newfound determination, channeling his grief into each spike, each serve, each practice session. His teammates noticed the change—a quiet strength that infused his every movement, a dedication that spoke volumes about the bond he had shared with Tendou.

The letters became his lifeline, each one a treasure trove of memories, encouragement, and shared aspirations. They reminded him of Tendou's belief in him, of the laughter they had shared, of the challenges they had overcome together. Reading them was both heartbreaking and healing, a testament to the depth of their friendship and the impact Tendou had on his life.

In time, Ushijima found a way to smile again, to cherish the moments they had shared rather than dwell on the pain of his absence. He knew that Tendou would have wanted him to continue pursuing their shared dreams, to find joy in the sport they loved so passionately.

And so, Ushijima carried Tendou's memory with him, a guiding light in the darkness, a reminder of the enduring power of friendship and the resilience of the human spirit.