I'm only a weakling | haikyuu

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗦𝗶𝘅𝘁𝘆 𝗧𝘄𝗼: 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗕𝗲𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗱

I would really like, in fact, 

to be born again in another two hundred years' time.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

On the court, your eyes tracked the ball's every move, your body instinctively adjusting to its trajectory. Timing your approach perfectly, you leaped into the air.

BAM!

The sound of your spike echoed across the gym as the ball slammed against the libero's wrist. The opposing player winced, shaking their numb hands in frustration.

They knew they had to give everything to receive any ball that came their way—but knowing and executing were two very different things.

The ball flew high into the air, and for a moment, its silhouette reflected in everyone's eyes.

That small sphere seemed to embody everything they chased, everything they fought for: the goal they all sought to reach.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Off the court, you were calmly reapplying ointment to your joints, a routine that had long since become second nature at Shiratorizawa. Here, though, it caught the attention of some unfamiliar eyes—like Atsumu's.

As your teammate for this round of practice, Atsumu had witnessed firsthand how dependable you were as a middle blocker. He couldn't deny it: being your setter made things remarkably easy.

Not that he wanted to admit it.

Leaning back with his hands behind his head, Atsumu let out a small "tch" under his breath, his gaze drifting back to you.

By then, you had finished rewrapping your joints and looked up, meeting Atsumu's stare. For a moment, his fox-like eyes were hard to read—an odd mix of emotions swirled in them.

You tilted your head slightly, puzzled by the intensity of his gaze.

Before you could say anything, Atsumu quickly turned away, his movements sharp and defensive, as if he'd been caught red-handed.

'Huh...?'

A silent question formed in your mind as you stared at his turned back.

Meanwhile, Atsumu sat stiffly, internally fuming at himself for having almost praised you.

'What the hell am I thinking?! This guy's totally the type who'd yell at a setter, "Even a dog could set better than you!'''

'There's no way someone like him deserves any compliments!'

His increasingly absurd mental tirade only made him angrier, so much so that the frustration bled into the next practice session.

You, entirely oblivious to his inner turmoil, could only wonder what had set him off this time.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

On the other side of the court, Hoshiumi watched you from afar, his expression unusually thoughtful.

He couldn't shake the conversation he'd had with Kageyama earlier that morning.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"...What?"

"That's not who Dynamite is," Kageyama had replied bluntly, one hand in his pocket. His sharp gaze swept over Hoshiumi, as if baffled by the very idea.

Turning fully toward Hoshiumi, Kageyama scratched the back of his head awkwardly. His expression was a mix of reluctance and resolve as he added, almost begrudgingly: