---
The pain started small.
So small Hinata ignored it.
A slight heaviness in his legs.
A delay in his jump.
Nothing serious.
Nothing worth stopping for.
He had felt worse before.
He kept moving.
---
Practice had been intense for days.
No breaks.
No real rest.
Just repetition.
Stability drills.
Fast sets.
Switching between both.
Over and over.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Hinata chased every ball.
Set every play.
Jumped every chance he got.
Because that was his role.
Because that was his responsibility.
Because stopping—
Was not an option.
---
"Again!"
The word came out sharp.
Automatic.
The team reset.
Fukuda received.
Clean.
Hinata moved.
Set—
Fast.
Fukuda jumped.
Hit—
Out.
Fukuda clicked his tongue.
"…Too high."
Hinata nodded.
"Again."
Sato groaned slightly.
"…We just did ten in a row…"
"Again."
Takeda adjusted his glasses.
His breathing heavier than usual.
"…Maybe a short break—"
"No."
The answer came instantly.
Too instantly.
Silence followed.
Mori watched him carefully.
"You are pushing too hard."
Hinata didn't look at him.
"We are not there yet."
"That does not mean—"
"We continue."
Fukuda frowned.
"…You are not even listening."
"I am."
"No, you are not."
Hinata grabbed the ball again.
"Positions."
No one moved immediately.
That was new.
That hesitation—
It wasn't about the play.
It was about him.
---
They continued anyway.
Because they always did.
Because stopping felt like losing time.
And losing time felt like falling behind.
---
The pain got worse.
Hinata felt it when he landed.
A slight sting in his knees.
A delay when he pushed off again.
His sets lost a fraction of sharpness.
Barely noticeable.
But real.
Still—
He ignored it.
---
"Mine!"
Nakamura called early.
Good.
Better than before.
He moved.
Received.
The ball went up.
Hinata stepped forward.
Set—
Too slow.
Sato jumped.
Adjusted mid-air.
Tapped it over.
Point.
But not clean.
Not right.
Fukuda noticed.
"…You are late."
Hinata frowned.
"I am not."
"You are."
"I said I am not."
Fukuda stepped closer.
"You are slowing down."
"I am fine."
"No, you are not."
The words landed harder than usual.
Because they were not just criticism.
They were observation.
Hinata looked away.
"…Again."
---
They reset.
Again.
And again.
And again.
But now—
Mistakes increased.
Timing slipped.
Communication delayed.
Energy dropped.
Takeda missed a receive.
Sato reacted slower.
Nakamura hesitated longer.
Even Fukuda started forcing plays.
And Hinata—
Hinata's sets became inconsistent.
Not drastically.
But enough.
Too fast.
Too low.
Too late.
The rhythm they built—
Started to crack.
---
Finally—
Mori stepped in.
"Stop."
Hinata froze.
"…What?"
"Stop."
"I am not stopping."
"You are."
Silence.
Everyone watched.
Mori stepped closer.
"You are tired."
"I am fine."
"No."
The word was calm.
Firm.
Unmovable.
"You are slowing down. Your timing is off. Your decisions are late."
Hinata clenched his fists.
"I said I am fine."
Fukuda sighed.
"…You are not."
Takeda nodded quietly.
"…We can see it…"
Sato added,
"You look worse than yesterday…"
Nakamura whispered,
"…Your sets feel different…"
Hinata's chest tightened.
Because they were all saying it.
Because they were all seeing it.
Because it was true.
But—
"I can still play."
Mori shook his head.
"That is not the point."
"Then what is?"
"You are dragging everyone down."
Silence.
Heavy.
Immediate.
Hinata froze.
"…What?"
Mori didn't look away.
"You are forcing practice beyond your limit."
"That is how we improve."
"No."
The answer was immediate.
"That is how we break."
The word echoed.
Break.
Not improve.
Not push.
Break.
---
Hinata looked around.
At his team.
Fukuda breathing heavier.
Takeda adjusting his stance constantly.
Sato stretching his shoulder.
Nakamura barely moving.
They were tired.
All of them.
And him—
More than anyone.
But still—
"We cannot stop."
Fukuda stepped forward.
"…Why?"
"Because we are not good enough."
"And running ourselves into the ground fixes that?"
"Yes."
"No, it does not!"
Fukuda's voice rose.
"It makes us worse!"
Hinata shook his head.
"No—"
"You are not even hitting anymore!"
The words hit.
Hard.
Direct.
Accurate.
Hinata froze.
Because he hadn't.
Not really.
Not since he became setter.
Not properly.
Not freely.
Not like before.
Fukuda continued.
"You are forcing everything into sets."
"That is my role."
"That is not your entire role!"
Silence.
Because that—
That touched something deeper.
Something Hinata hadn't addressed.
---
Mori spoke again.
"We stop for today."
Hinata shook his head.
"No."
"Yes."
"I said no."
Mori stepped closer.
"You are done."
Hinata's voice dropped.
"I decide that."
"No."
Mori's eyes stayed steady.
"Your body does."
Silence.
Hinata's legs felt heavy.
His arms slow.
His breathing uneven.
The truth—
Right there.
Undeniable.
But accepting it—
Felt like losing.
---
Takeda spoke softly.
"…We can train tomorrow…"
Sato nodded.
"Yeah… we are not quitting…"
Nakamura whispered,
"…We just need rest…"
Fukuda crossed his arms.
"…Even machines stop."
Hinata looked at all of them.
Every face.
Every expression.
Not giving up.
Not quitting.
Just—
Asking to stop.
For now.
His fists slowly unclenched.
"…Fine."
The word came out quietly.
Almost reluctant.
But real.
---
They sat down.
No one spoke for a while.
Just breathing.
Recovering.
Letting the silence settle.
Hinata stared at his hands.
They trembled slightly.
Not from fear.
From exhaustion.
Mori sat beside him.
"You cannot improve if you cannot move."
Hinata didn't respond.
Because he knew.
Fukuda lay back.
"…You push too hard."
"…I know."
Takeda smiled slightly.
"But that is why we are here."
Sato nodded.
"Yeah… just do not kill us."
Nakamura whispered,
"…Or yourself…"
Hinata exhaled slowly.
"…Yeah."
---
That night—
He didn't train.
For the first time.
No ball.
No sets.
No drills.
Just rest.
And thinking.
About limits.
About pacing.
About control.
Not just of the ball—
But of himself.
---
The next morning—
His body still hurt.
But lighter.
More responsive.
Not perfect.
But better.
Hinata stood outside the gym.
Looking in.
Same place.
Same view.
But a new understanding.
Pushing forward mattered.
But so did staying able to move.
"…Balance."
The word felt strange.
But right.
He stepped inside.
Ready again.
Not just to push—
But to last.
---