I'm only a weakling | haikyuu

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝗙𝗶𝘃𝗲: 𝗔𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗔 𝗠𝗮𝗻

There was something 'bout you,

that now i can't remember.

*

You sat on the tatami, still not quite used to it, but understanding the importance of adapting to local customs. Dressed casually in a white T-shirt, black baseball jacket, and black trousers, your baseball cap hung on the nearby rack. It was amusing to think a volleyball player was wearing something named after "baseball."

Facing Itachiyama, you couldn't deny there was some fear. After all, you still saw yourself as just an ordinary person who "knows volleyball." Now, you were relying on years of experience from your previous life, almost unfairly "bullying" these teenagers. You weren't even sure you could win.

But at least you weren't alone this time.

Resting your chin on one hand, you glanced at your noisy teammates across the table. Even though it was a private room, they were being pretty loud. If there weren't any drinks involved, you might've thought you were dreaming about one of your old work-related social gatherings from your past life.

Japan could be strict—no drinking under 20, and this was the "anime world," so they wouldn't do anything illegal anyway. You didn't mind alcohol yourself, enjoying the feeling of being tipsy, but over time, with more and more social obligations, it became harder to truly enjoy that peaceful buzz.

Suddenly, you heard a familiar voice call your name. You sighed inwardly, already sensing what was coming. The next moment, a tall 1.8-meter figure wrapped an arm around your shoulders and leaned on you with a grin.

"Dynamite-chan looks so mature! Thinking about heading to Coach Washijo's table, huh?"

Your expression froze as you quietly shrugged off Tendou's arm. He let out a playful "Eh—" as you shifted to the side. Tendou took his chance, sliding in between you and Ushijima with a grin, clearly pleased with himself.

At some point, you had grown used to this routine—Tendou always dragging you into the middle, squished between him and Ushijima. It almost felt like you'd been subtly manipulated into this, though there was no real proof.

Shiratorizawa's final exams wrapped up earlier than most schools, so while students from other schools were still cramming for tests, you were already enjoying a laid-back summer vacation. Even so, Coach Washijo still wanted to keep the team training. You didn't mind; in fact, you were all for it. Training with your teammates was something you looked forward to.

But the heat? That was a different story.

You couldn't help but feel a bit envious of Ito, who was off enjoying a beach vacation abroad with her mom. Meanwhile, your parents, in this life, seemed more like money-making machines than anything else. The only time you really felt connected to them was when they sent money each month—a brief reminder that you were still their "child."

Leaning against the wall, it wasn't so much about not fitting in with the group. Sure, there was a bit of that, but mostly it was because this spot offered a sense of security. After all, the corner of the room is a comforting place for people who feel socially awkward, like you.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed. You assumed it was another routine money transfer notification from your parents, but when you saw the sender, you paused, surprised.

Then, almost instantly, your phone buzzed again, and again. A rare occurrence, given how few contacts you had. If it weren't for the flood of congratulatory messages you'd received after winning the game, you might've thought you'd just won something again.

You decided to read the messages one by one.

The first was from Hibari.

Yes, Hibari—your "rich" fan. After you won the championship, enduring the overly complicated award ceremony and interviews, you'd made a quick escape backstage. That's where you saw Hibari, eyes gleaming with excitement. He'd eagerly asked for your contact info, saying he had something to talk to you about later via message.