The smell of hormones and sweat itched at Iwaizumi's nose; teenage boy smell, he thought. The gym at Aoba Johsai was packed with them—two dozen fifteen-to-eighteen year olds, yelling, running, and generally being rowdy. Not to say that he was any exception; in fact, 3rd-year Iwazumi Hajime sat at the throne of sweaty-teenager-land as the captain of the prestigious Aoba Johsai high school volleyball team.
"Captain!"
A first-year student came running up to him. Number thirteen, Kunimi Akira, Iwaizumi thought.
The young man looked up at him. "I will not be able to attend practice on Wednesday afternoon."
Iwaizumi frowned. Kunimi had a habit of skipping practices, but it wasn't often that he gave an excuse. "Have you talked to Coach Mizoguchi about it?"
"Yes. I have an important doctor's appointment that afternoon, and I cannot miss it."
He raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You couldn't schedule it for another time?"
"No, sir."
Iwaizumi relented a little; being called "sir" by the first-years did appeal to his ego a little, something that he did his honest best to keep at bay. "Alright then," he said, letting his voice soften by a hair. "Make sure you're here the rest of the week, though. And don't skip conditioning on Wednesday, either."
Kunimi nodded curtly and returned to practicing serves. Iwaizumi checked the time on his phone: 7:14. He looked over at Coach Mizoguchi, who met his eyes, and nodded.
"Alright, everybody!" Iwaizumi called over the din. The other players stopped what they were doing, and turned to look at him. "Give it a rest!"
The balls and nets were left abandoned as the team gathered around Iwaizumi. "Good work today!" he said, clapping his hands together. "Remember, we have a practice match against Nekoma coming up this Friday. I'm expecting the best from all of you."
There was a universal "yes, sir!" from the crowd, and Iwaizumi nodded firmly. "Alright. Let's get started cleaning up, then."
--
Cleaning the gym that night didn't take long, which Iwaizumi was grateful for; as spring approached, so did exams and other headaches, including the Spring Tournament. As a result, he hadn't been sleeping as much lately, and practices sometimes felt like the lasted for years at a time.
He walked in silence alongside the road home; it was dark, but the moon was bright, and he didn't need to worry about getting lost or tripping in the night. Iwaizumi often found he enjoyed solitary walks home; they allowed him to clear his head and put all of his thoughts in order.
Maybe I'll grow a beard, he thought as he gazed up at the night sky. I'm seventeen. That seems like an appropriate age for a beard. Can I even grow a beard? I've never really tried. What if I max out at like three or four centimeters and just end up looking homeless? This is a lot to think about...
As Iwaizumi delved deeper into his beard-centric introspection, he failed to notice the sound of another person shuffling within the high grass that grew on the side of the road. The sounds grew louder, finally culminating in a loud curse and a flash of light that jolted Iwaizumi out of his trance.
Shit! He thought. I knew I'd run into trouble eventually, walking home by myself at night...
He waited patiently for another sign of movement, squinting in the moonlight at the grass, which had fallen silent. Finally, the grass rustled again, and Iwaizumi took a couple of steps forward. It stopped, and he did as well. Silence again. Then, more movement. Iwaizumi followed.
This tense pattern continued for another half a minute or so, until it seemed that the source of the noise had disappeared altogether. Iwaizumi began to relax, and let his guard drop.
Seeing things, he thought. I'm under too much stress—
"A-HA!"
The grass in front of him exploded in a flurry of movement and flashlight beams, and Iwaizumi stumbled backwards, almost falling over in the process. He yelled in surprise, and it was matched by an equally surprised yelp from his attacker.
When the initial chaos settled, and Iwaizumi regained his vision after being blinded by the flashlight, he looked up to face the force that had nearly put him into cardiac arrest at the young age of seventeen.
Instead of a rugged criminal, a handsome young man was standing in front of him. He looked vaguely familiar; he was wearing the Aoba Johsai school uniform, so Iwaizumi was sure he'd seen him around school somewhere. His thick brown hair was parted neatly over his face, which was twisted into expression of what Iwaizumi realized was offense.
"Dammit!" he said. "You're not an alien!"
Iwaizumi stared blankly at him, still in shock. "You're... just some idiot."
"Hey!" he yelled. "I'm not the one stalking strangers in the middle of the night!"
"I wasn't stalking you!" Iwaizumi said defensively. "I... I thought you were a mugger!"
The young man stared at him, and Iwaizumi cleared his throat. "What the hell are you wandering around here for?"
"I—I was looking for—something," he said, crossing his arms firmly. "Someone said they saw something suspicious out here, so I came to check it out."
"Wait," Iwaizumi said. "Are you... actually looking for aliens?"
He frowned. "Is there something wrong with that?"
Iwaizumi barely repressed a snort. "N—No, it's nothing," he said. "Pfft... aliens..."
"Well what are YOU doing here?"
"I'm on my way home," he said, frowning. "And I'd really like to get there."
"Fine then," he said. "Go ahead. You're probably scaring off all the aliens with that face, anyway."
Iwaizumi felt a shouting match rising up in his throat, but swallowed it back down. Don't get into it with him, Hajime, he thought. Let it go. Even if he is a twit.
"Fine," he spat. "Good luck finding your little green men."
"They're GREY!"
Iwaizumi ignored this, turning his back to alien-boy, and heading instead back up to the road. Aliens, he thought. ALIENS. What kind of weirdo spends their Wednesday night looking for ALIENS?
...And why do they have to be GREY?
