---
The first time it failed again—
It failed badly.
"Mine!"
Fukuda's receive was clean.
Perfect height.
Perfect control.
The kind of ball Hinata should have handled easily.
He moved into position.
Early.
Focused.
The timing in his head lined up.
This is it.
He set—
Fast.
Too fast.
Fukuda jumped—
Late.
The ball slipped past his hand and crashed into the floor behind him.
Silence.
Fukuda landed hard.
"…Again?"
Hinata didn't answer.
Because he already knew.
Too early.
Sato rubbed his neck.
"That one felt off…"
Takeda adjusted his glasses nervously.
"…It is hard to follow…"
Mori said nothing.
But his eyes stayed on Hinata.
Watching.
Measuring.
Nakamura stepped back slightly.
Like the play itself had pushed him away.
Hinata exhaled slowly.
"…Reset."
---
They tried again.
This time with Sato.
Receive.
Position.
Set—
Fast.
Sato jumped—
Too early.
Swung through air.
Missed.
The ball dropped.
Fukuda clicked his tongue.
"This is getting worse."
"It is not," Hinata replied.
"It is."
Silence.
Because right now—
It was.
---
Practice continued.
But the rhythm they built over the last few days—
Started to crack.
Not completely.
Not all at once.
But enough.
Every time Hinata used the fast set—
Uncertainty followed.
Timing mismatches.
Hesitation.
Missed hits.
Broken flow.
And slowly—
Frustration returned.
Fukuda wiped sweat from his face.
"…We were more stable yesterday."
Hinata clenched his fists.
"I know."
"Then why are we forcing this?"
"Because it works."
"When?" Fukuda shot back.
Silence.
Because the answer was not simple.
Not consistent.
Not reliable.
Yet.
Sato spoke carefully.
"…It works sometimes…"
Takeda added,
"…But when it fails, everything collapses…"
Nakamura nodded slightly.
"…It is scary…"
Mori finally spoke.
"It is high risk."
Everyone looked at him.
"It requires perfect timing from both sides," Mori continued. "Right now, we do not have that."
Hinata's jaw tightened.
"I know."
"Then why continue?"
Hinata looked at him.
"Because we need it."
Fukuda scoffed.
"No, we do not."
"Yes, we do."
"We need basics!"
"We need more than that!"
The words clashed.
Hard.
Immediate.
The gym went quiet again.
---
Fukuda stepped forward.
"Listen," he said, voice lower now. "We are finally getting stable."
Hinata didn't look away.
"And?"
"And you are risking that."
"I am improving us."
"You are breaking us."
Silence.
The words hit.
Because they carried weight.
Because they weren't entirely wrong.
Hinata felt it.
That doubt.
That hesitation.
But he pushed through it.
"If we only stay stable, we will stay weak."
Fukuda frowned.
"That is not true."
"It is."
"No, it is not!"
"We saw it!"
Hinata's voice rose.
"At the tournament. At the practice match. Stability alone is not enough!"
Fukuda's expression hardened.
"And this is?"
"Yes."
"This unstable mess?"
"Yes!"
Silence.
Thick.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Takeda looked between them.
"…Both of you are right…"
No one responded.
Because that made it worse.
Sato scratched his head.
"…So what do we do?"
No answer came immediately.
Because this—
This was the real problem.
Not skill.
Not technique.
Direction.
---
Mori stepped forward.
"We split."
Everyone looked at him.
"…What?"
"We train both."
Hinata frowned.
"…Explain."
Mori crossed his arms.
"We separate practice phases."
Silence.
Then—
"Stable play first," Mori said.
"Then risk."
Fukuda blinked.
"…You mean—"
"We build consistency first," Mori continued. "Then we attempt the fast set."
Takeda nodded slowly.
"…That makes sense…"
Sato added,
"Yeah… like layers…"
Nakamura whispered,
"…That feels safer…"
Hinata stayed quiet.
Thinking.
It wasn't what he wanted.
Not fully.
But—
It worked.
It balanced both sides.
Fukuda looked at him.
"…Well?"
Hinata exhaled.
"…Fine."
Not defeat.
Adjustment.
"We do both."
---
They restarted.
Phase one.
Stability.
Simple receives.
Controlled sets.
Clear roles.
No speed.
No risk.
And immediately—
The difference showed.
Cleaner movement.
Better communication.
Fewer mistakes.
Not perfect.
But stable.
Fukuda smirked.
"…See?"
Hinata nodded.
"…Yeah."
He couldn't deny it.
This mattered.
This was the foundation.
---
Then—
Phase two.
"Fast set," Hinata said.
The air shifted.
Tension returned.
But different now.
Focused.
Intentional.
They knew what was coming.
That changed everything.
The first attempt—
Failed.
Too early.
The second—
Failed.
Too slow.
The third—
Connected.
Fukuda hit it clean.
Point.
They kept going.
Switching.
Adjusting.
Learning.
Not forcing it into every play.
Not breaking everything.
Containing it.
Shaping it.
---
Time passed.
More than usual.
No one complained.
Because now—
There was direction again.
Not conflict.
Not confusion.
Structure.
Even within risk.
By the end—
They were exhausted.
Completely.
But the atmosphere—
Was steady.
Fukuda stretched.
"…Okay."
Hinata looked at him.
"…Okay?"
"This works."
Reluctant.
But real.
Sato grinned.
"We get both!"
Takeda nodded.
"…I feel less pressure…"
Nakamura whispered,
"…Me too…"
Mori crossed his arms.
"Balanced growth."
Hinata looked at all of them.
Then at the net.
Then at the space beyond it.
"…We are getting there."
Not fast.
Not easily.
But correctly.
And that mattered more.
---
That night—
Hinata stood alone again.
Ball in hand.
Setting.
Again.
Again.
Again.
He practiced both.
Slow.
Fast.
Control.
Risk.
Back and forth.
Until his arms ached.
Until his timing blurred.
Until his body protested.
Then—
One last set.
Fast.
Clean.
Precise.
He stopped.
Breathing hard.
"…That is it."
Not perfect.
But closer.
He looked at his hands.
Then forward.
"I will master both."
Because now he understood—
Speed alone was not power.
Control alone was not enough.
But together—
They could become something dangerous.
Something real.
Something that could reach that level.
The level he saw.
The level he was chasing.
The level—
He would not stop until he reached.
---