The Enduring Libero

Chapter 8

*I've just finished editing this one, so hopefully it makes a bit more sense than the original. Forewarning of angst and stress.*

The Argument

I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was made with plaster in speckled patterns called a popcorn ceiling, and if you stared at it too long the pattern would seem to move. Sometimes when I was bored I would sit and stare, trying to see how long I could keep my eyes open. But now was not one of those times. I felt regretful that I had skipped out on the club, and even worse I felt angry at my friend. To think I would have to get to school way earlier tomorrow, and all because my friends had begged me to spend my time–horrible as it turned out–with them.

An angry growl burst out of me and I rolled onto my stomach, smacking my head into my pillow. "Darn, darn, darn." I said through the pillow, successfully using up all my oxygen. I had to pull my head away and gasp before I could smash my head back against the fluffy material. Again my oxygen disappeared and I was forced to turn my head to the side. "Darn you, Yuki."

My mind slipped back into remembering the afternoon for the thousandth time. Or rather, one moment of it. We'd found a spot at an ice cream store and Kimiko was elected to be the one to get the ice cream for us. She went in for it, complaining the whole way, leaving Yuki and I alone outside. I smiled like everything was normal and comfortable, I should have known I was wrong. When they asked to hangout, Kimiko looked mischievous because she wanted to see the club. I didn't notice before, but Yuki had appeared like he was planning something as well. I just mistakenly thought he was in line with Kimiko.

Long story short, I was wrong.

Short story long, it started with a side glance from Yuki. I caught it and raised an eyebrow, leaning on my closed fist. "What?"

He frowned, and I got the feeling that he was about to say something I wouldn't like. I was right.

"Listen, you said earlier that you weren't going to hear my opinion about the volleyball club, but I'd like to say it now." His voice was serious and it made my skin prickle. Still, the sensation was not foreboding enough for me to stop him, in fact I even nodded to let him know it was okay. Yuki continued, "I know how much you like it, but I think... Well, we've been friends for five years now, and I saw what happened to you last time. So maybe–maybe joining another team isn't a good idea?"

The last dregs of my good mood disappeared, and I frowned. "I already said I'm not stopping."

Yuki clasped both his hands together, worry creasing his brow. "I know that, but I hoped you might listen to me. I just got back and I know you've already been with them for a little while, but volleyball is a sport you can't play anymore. Isn't it torture to have to watch it everyday?"

I shook my head emphatically. "You don't understand. It's not torture, and I could play if I wanted to. This is better."

"Is it?" Yuki asked. His eyes looked pleading. "All you've done is put yourself back in the same situation, but this time your brother isn't there to help you."

I could feel my temper, calm as it usually was, start rising. I swallowed, uselessly trying to control my growing anger. "I don't need Hajime, I can do this. I have the skill, I have the experience. More importantly, I have the passion. You don't understand how much this means to me."

"I do understand!" He insisted, waving his hands as he spoke. "But you aren't considering the fact that you physically can't play as well anymore!"

I flinched, my hand flying to my arm without permission. Yuki at least looked guilty, but that didn't change his opinion. For a moment a wave of memories and fear swelled inside me, but I shoved it down. I glared at Yuki sharply.