Hinata should have gone home.
That was the normal thing to do.
Lose the match. Pack up. Leave.
But he did not.
Instead, he stood at the edge of another court, his body still heavy from the match, his mind refusing to settle.
Behind him, his team lingered.
Fukuda leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
Sato sat on the floor, staring at his hands.
Takeda adjusted his glasses again and again.
Nakamura stayed quiet, close to the exit.
Mori stood beside Hinata, watching the court.
None of them were ready to leave.
Not after that.
Not after seeing the gap so clearly.
Hinata's eyes stayed locked on the match in front of him.
The sound was different.
Cleaner.
Sharper.
Every touch had intent.
Receive.
Perfect.
Set—
Fast.
Too fast.
The ball snapped through the air and dropped before the blockers could react.
Point.
Hinata leaned forward slightly.
"…What was that?"
Mori answered quietly.
"A quick set."
Hinata narrowed his eyes.
No.
Not just quick.
Precise.
The rally restarted.
The receive came slightly off.
Hinata noticed it instantly.
That would break us.
But the setter moved.
Fast.
Adjusted mid-step.
Set from a bad position.
Perfect again.
The spiker crushed it.
Point.
Fukuda straightened a little.
"…He fixed that like it was nothing."
Takeda whispered, "That should have failed…"
Sato looked up. "How is he doing that?"
No one answered immediately.
Because they were all watching.
The setter stood near the net.
Still.
Calm.
Black hair. Sharp eyes.
Every movement efficient.
No wasted motion.
No panic.
No hesitation.
Hinata felt it immediately.
He is controlling everything.
The next rally proved it again.
Short receive.
Bad angle.
He adjusted.
Back set.
Perfect.
Another point.
Nakamura spoke softly, almost to himself.
"…We could not even get one clean play like that."
Hinata did not respond.
Because he was thinking the same thing.
No.
Worse.
We could not even get close.
---
A voice came from nearby.
"That is Kageyama."
Hinata turned.
Two students stood a few steps away, watching the same match.
"Kageyama Tobio," one of them said. "Kitagawa Daiichi."
"Their setter," the other added. "A genius."
Genius.
The word settled heavily.
Hinata looked back at the court.
Kageyama.
The name locked in.
The match continued.
But it no longer felt like just a match.
It felt like a demonstration.
Of everything Hinata's team was not.
Structure.
Speed.
Decision-making.
Trust.
Control.
Every player moved with purpose.
No hesitation.
No confusion.
Nothing like Yukigaoka.
Fukuda muttered, "They actually know where to be."
Mori nodded. "Because he puts them there."
That hit.
Hard.
Hinata's eyes sharpened.
Yes.
That is it.
The setter decides everything.
Not just the ball.
The entire flow.
The entire team.
The realization landed fully.
And with it—
The gap widened.
---
The match ended quickly.
Kageyama's team won.
Without struggle.
Without emotion.
They simply reset and walked off.
Like it was expected.
Hinata did not move.
His chest felt tight again.
But different from before.
More focused.
More direct.
Kageyama walked past.
Close.
Close enough for Hinata to see his face clearly.
Focused.
Cold.
Distant.
Like nothing else mattered.
Hinata opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
What would he say?
We just lost badly. Teach me?
No.
That was not it.
That was not what he wanted.
Kageyama passed without even noticing him.
And something inside Hinata ignited.
Not anger.
Not exactly.
Something sharper.
A challenge.
"I will beat him."
The words slipped out.
Quiet.
But solid.
Fukuda heard it.
"…You are serious?"
Hinata did not look away.
"Yes."
Fukuda let out a short laugh.
"You saw that, right?"
"Yes."
"And you still said that?"
"Yes."
"That guy is controlling entire matches."
"I know."
"We cannot even control a rally."
"I know."
Silence.
Then Fukuda shook his head.
"…You are insane."
"Maybe."
Hinata finally turned.
But his expression had changed.
Completely.
Before, he wanted to play.
Now—
He wanted to reach something specific.
"I saw it," he said.
Takeda looked at him. "Saw what?"
"The difference."
Mori nodded slightly. "Explain."
Hinata pointed toward the court.
"The setter."
"Kageyama," Sato said.
"Yes."
Hinata's voice steadied.
"He is not just good."
They listened.
"He controls the game."
Silence.
Because they had felt it too.
Fukuda crossed his arms.
"And you think we can do that?"
"No."
The answer was immediate.
Honest.
Everyone blinked.
Hinata continued.
"Not like this."
He looked at all of them.
One by one.
Fukuda.
Mori.
Takeda.
Sato.
Nakamura.
"We are six players," he said.
"But we are not a team."
No one argued.
Because it was true.
Mori spoke quietly.
"…So what do we do?"
Hinata turned back toward the court.
"We change how we play."
Fukuda raised an eyebrow. "That again?"
"Yes."
"But properly this time."
Takeda swallowed. "We do not even have a real setter…"
Hinata's answer came without hesitation.
"Then I will do it."
Sato blinked. "You?"
"Yes."
"You are our main spiker!"
"I know."
"Then why—"
"Because someone has to control the game."
Silence.
Heavy.
Then Mori spoke.
"…You are serious."
"Yes."
Fukuda sighed.
"This is going to be messy."
"Yes."
"But better than before."
That part…
No one could deny.
Nakamura spoke quietly.
"…If it helps us not feel like that again… I am in."
Takeda nodded.
"…Me too."
Sato hesitated.
Then nodded as well.
"…Okay."
Fukuda rolled his shoulders.
"Fine. If we are doing this, we do it properly."
Mori gave a small nod.
"Then we start tomorrow."
Hinata looked at them.
Really looked.
For the first time…
This felt like a team.
Not a good one.
Not yet.
But something real.
Something that could become more.
He clenched his fist.
"I will get us there."
This time, he meant all of them.
And somewhere ahead—
On another court—
A setter named Kageyama Tobio stood at the level he needed to reach.
Not a dream anymore.
A target.
Clear.
Cold.
Real.
---