---
The ball felt different in his hands.
Not heavier.
Not lighter.
Just—
Different.
Hinata stared at it for a moment before practice started.
Turning it slowly between his fingers.
Setter.
That was his role now.
Position.
Responsibility.
Control.
Everything flowed through him.
Every play started with him.
Every mistake—
Also his.
He had accepted that.
He had chosen that.
So why—
Did something feel missing?
---
"Oi."
Fukuda's voice snapped him out of it.
"You going to stand there all day?"
Hinata blinked.
"…No."
"Then move."
Hinata nodded and stepped forward.
Practice began.
---
They started with stability drills again.
Receives.
Positioning.
Simple sets.
Clean movement.
The rhythm returned quickly after yesterday's rest.
Better timing.
Sharper reactions.
Less hesitation.
Even Nakamura moved earlier.
More decisively.
Hinata noticed it all.
Tracked everything.
Adjusted constantly.
That was his job.
That was his role.
And yet—
Every time the ball left his hands—
He felt it again.
That small gap.
That missing piece.
---
"Again!"
Hinata called.
Fukuda received.
Clean.
Hinata moved.
Set—
Perfect height.
Perfect position.
Fukuda jumped.
Spiked—
Point.
Clean.
Strong.
Effective.
Exactly what it should be.
Hinata nodded.
"…Good."
But inside—
Nothing.
No spark.
No rush.
Just—
Completion.
Like finishing a task.
Not winning a point.
---
They continued.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Every play—
Correct.
Better.
Improving.
But something—
Was off.
---
It happened by accident.
Like most important things did.
The receive came wrong.
Too high.
Too far.
Off position.
Hinata ran.
Fast.
But not fast enough to set properly.
He reached—
Too late.
The ball was dropping.
No time.
No choice.
So he jumped.
Instinct.
Pure instinct.
He didn't think.
Didn't calculate.
Didn't plan.
He just—
Jumped.
And hit it.
The ball flew over the net.
Messy.
Uncontrolled.
But it landed.
Point.
Silence.
Everyone stared.
Fukuda blinked.
"…You just spiked."
Hinata landed.
Heart racing.
"…Yeah."
Sato grinned.
"That looked good!"
Takeda nodded quickly.
"…That was fast…"
Nakamura whispered,
"…I did not expect that…"
Mori watched closely.
"You reacted without thinking."
Hinata looked at his hand.
Then at the net.
Then back at the ball.
"…Yeah."
And that feeling—
It was back.
That spark.
That rush.
That moment where everything disappeared except the jump.
The contact.
The point.
His chest tightened slightly.
Why does this feel different?
---
"Do it again."
The voice came from Fukuda.
Hinata looked up.
"…What?"
"Do it again."
"That was accidental."
"Then make it intentional."
Silence.
Hinata frowned.
"…I am the setter."
Fukuda shrugged.
"So?"
"So I set."
"And sometimes you hit."
"That is not how it works."
Fukuda smirked.
"…Says who?"
Hinata hesitated.
Because—
He didn't have an answer.
---
Mori spoke.
"It is not inefficient."
Hinata turned to him.
"…What?"
"A setter attack creates unpredictability," Mori said calmly.
"It disrupts blocking patterns."
Takeda adjusted his glasses.
"…So… it is useful?"
"Yes."
Sato grinned.
"Then we should use it!"
Nakamura nodded slightly.
"…It felt surprising…"
Hinata looked between them.
"…You want me to attack?"
Fukuda crossed his arms.
"Sometimes. Yeah."
Hinata looked down at the ball again.
His fingers tightened slightly around it.
Setter.
Spiker.
Can I be both?
---
They reset.
Positions.
Same as always.
But now—
Something had changed.
The next rally began.
Receive.
Set.
Spike.
Normal.
Stable.
Then again.
Another rally.
Another play.
Then—
An opening.
Slightly off receive.
Not perfect.
Hinata moved.
He could set.
He should set.
But—
He saw the gap.
Small.
Barely there.
But real.
His body reacted before his mind finished deciding.
He jumped.
Again.
Hit.
The ball shot over the net.
Sharper this time.
Cleaner.
Point.
Silence.
Then—
Fukuda laughed.
"…There it is."
Sato grinned.
"That is fun."
Takeda looked amazed.
"…You can really jump…"
Nakamura whispered,
"…That was fast…"
Mori nodded.
"Timing is improving."
Hinata stood still.
Breathing slightly heavier.
Heart faster.
That feeling again.
Stronger now.
Not just instinct.
Awareness.
Choice.
---
They kept going.
Now—
Not forcing it.
Not every play.
But watching.
Looking.
Waiting.
For moments.
Opportunities.
Hinata set as usual.
Controlled.
Precise.
Then sometimes—
He didn't.
Sometimes—
He attacked.
And every time he did—
The rhythm changed.
The defense hesitated.
The play shifted.
Not perfect.
Not consistent.
But effective.
And more than that—
Alive.
---
Halfway through practice—
Fukuda walked over.
"…You look different."
Hinata blinked.
"…What?"
"When you jump."
Silence.
Hinata frowned.
"…Different how?"
Fukuda shrugged.
"…Like you actually want to be there."
The words hit.
Because they were true.
Because Hinata felt it too.
Setting—
Was control.
Responsibility.
Structure.
But jumping—
Jumping was freedom.
It was instinct.
Speed.
Pure movement.
No hesitation.
No overthinking.
Just—
Go.
---
Hinata looked at his hands again.
Then at his legs.
Then at the net.
"I forgot."
The words came out quietly.
Mori glanced at him.
"…What?"
"How it feels."
Silence.
Then—
Mori nodded.
"You changed roles."
Hinata nodded.
"…Yeah."
"But you are still the same player."
That line stayed.
Hung.
Settled deep.
Same player.
Different role.
Not replaced.
Not lost.
Just—
Expanded.
---
The final rally of practice came.
Long.
Messy.
Exhausting.
Everyone moving.
Everyone reacting.
No clear control.
Just effort.
The ball came high.
Floating.
Dropping.
Hinata moved.
He could set.
Safe option.
Correct option.
But—
He jumped.
High.
Higher than before.
No hesitation.
No doubt.
He hit—
Clean.
Powerful.
The ball slammed into the floor.
Point.
Silence.
Then—
Fukuda clapped once.
"…Yeah. Keep that."
Sato grinned widely.
"That was awesome!"
Takeda nodded rapidly.
"…Very effective…"
Nakamura smiled slightly.
"…I liked that…"
Mori crossed his arms.
"A valuable addition."
Hinata landed.
Breathing hard.
Heart pounding.
But this time—
Not from exhaustion.
From something else.
Something sharper.
Clearer.
Stronger.
---
After practice—
He stayed behind again.
Of course he did.
But this time—
Not just setting.
He tossed the ball.
Jumped.
Hit.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Then—
Set.
Then—
Hit.
Switching.
Blending.
Learning both.
Not choosing one.
Not abandoning the other.
Combining.
---
He stopped.
Breathing steady.
Looking at the net.
"I am not just a setter."
The words felt right.
Not rejection.
Not denial.
Expansion.
"I am still a spiker."
And now—
Both.
---
The path ahead changed.
Not completely.
But enough.
Because now—
Hinata wasn't just chasing control.
He was reclaiming instinct.
And together—
Those two things could become something far more dangerous than either alone.
---