REACHING BEYOND THE NET

A Glimpse of Light

The measurements were routine, just another part of the preparation for the Olympics. I had done it countless times before, so it wasn't supposed to be anything special. But this time was different. This time, it wasn't just about getting the right numbers—it was about the person holding the measuring tape.

I had noticed him the moment I walked into the room. He was shorter than the rest, with bright orange hair that stood out against the sea of taller athletes. There was something about him, something that caught my attention and wouldn't let go. He moved with a kind of quiet determination, his focus on the task at hand, but there was an energy about him that was hard to ignore.

When it was my turn to be measured, I found myself standing before him, waiting as he prepared his tools. He introduced himself as Shoyo Hinata, an assistant working under the famous designer, Asahi Azumane. His voice was soft but clear, and there was a hint of nervousness in it that I found oddly endearing.

As he began measuring, I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes lit up when he looked at the volleyball courts. There was a spark there, a deep-seated passion that I recognized all too well. But there was also something else, something I didn't expect—melancholy. It was as if he was looking at something he loved but could no longer fully grasp, and that feeling was reflected in his gaze.

He was so close, close enough that I could see the details of his face. His eyes were large and expressive, filled with a mix of emotions that made them shine in a way that was both captivating and beautiful. And that hair—bright, unruly, and so full of life—it suited him perfectly.

I felt a strange pull toward him, a curiosity that I hadn't felt in a long time. I wanted to know more about him, about why his eyes held that hint of sadness despite the obvious love he had for the game. I wanted to understand what had brought him here, to this place, where he was so close to the sport but not quite part of it anymore.

When our eyes met, there was a brief moment where it felt like the rest of the room faded away. He was looking at me with those brilliant eyes, and I couldn't help but wonder what he saw when he looked at me. Did he feel the same pull, the same connection that I did?

After he finished, I took the measurement sheet from him, our fingers brushing for just a second. It was a small, almost insignificant moment, but it left a lasting impression. I could feel his presence even as he stepped away, and I found myself reluctant to see him go.

"You're the new assistant, right?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady despite the strange fluttering in my chest.

"Yes, that's me," he replied, a bit startled. "I'm Shoyo Hinata. It's an honor to meet you."

The way he said it, with such sincerity, made me smile. He wasn't just saying it out of politeness—he meant it. There was something genuine about him, something that drew me in even more.

"The honor's mine," I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "Good luck with your work."

As I walked away, I couldn't help but glance back at him. He was already focused on his next task, but I could still see the spark in his eyes, that flicker of passion that had caught my attention in the first place.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, but my mind kept drifting back to him—his height, his hair, his eyes, and the way they reflected a love for volleyball that was both inspiring and heartbreaking. I had met countless people in my career, but there was something different about Shoyo Hinata. Something that made me want to see him again, to learn more about the story behind those eyes.

As I left the facility, I found myself hoping that our paths would cross again. I didn't know when or how, but I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something—something that would change more than just the way I looked at the game.

The thought lingered as I headed home, a small, unexpected spark of excitement lighting up my otherwise focused mind. And as I lay down that night, the image of him, with his bright orange hair and shining eyes, stayed with me—a reminder that sometimes, the most unexpected encounters can leave the deepest impressions.