The sound of shoes squeaking against polished wood floors, the rhythmic pounding of volleyballs, and the echoes of laughter filled the air. For as long as I could remember, volleyball had been my life. I was born into a family that seemingly had everything—a successful business empire, a sprawling mansion in the heart of Tokyo, and all the privileges one could dream of. But for me, the greatest joy wasn't in material wealth; it was in the exhilarating thrum of a volleyball meeting my palm.
Standing at 194 centimeters tall, the same height as Lev Haiba, I was never one to blend into a crowd. My height had always been an asset in volleyball, and I used it to dominate the court. My parents, initially indifferent to my obsession, began to see it as more than a hobby when I started winning local tournaments in elementary school. By middle school, I was a force to be reckoned with, earning the nickname "The Natural."
But there's a catch to being called "The Natural." People expect you to succeed without effort. That wasn't my story. Yes, I had talent—an instinct for reading the game, a knack for finding weaknesses in an opponent's defense, and a flexibility reminiscent of a panther ready to pounce. But I also worked tirelessly. Early mornings and late nights, I honed my skills, whether it was perfecting my blocks, refining my serves, or diving headfirst into grueling drills.
When high school applications rolled around, my parents suggested some prestigious private schools, but I had only one destination in mind: Nekoma High. Known for its storied volleyball history, Nekoma was the perfect place for someone like me. It wasn't just about their volleyball team; it was about their philosophy. Their style—fluid, adaptive, and strategic—resonated deeply with me.
Joining Nekoma meant starting anew. It wasn't just about proving myself to my teammates and coaches; it was about fitting into a tightly-knit group that had already begun to form. Lev Haiba joined at the same time as me, a half-Russian, half-Japanese powerhouse with a bright smile and boundless energy. His enthusiasm was infectious, and his height matched mine, making us a striking pair on the court.
The first time I stepped into Nekoma's gym, I felt a rush of excitement and nerves. The players were in the middle of a practice match, their movements fluid and precise. Kuroo, the captain, noticed me and walked over with a smirk.
"So, you're the new kid," he said, extending a hand. "I'm Kuroo Tetsurou. Welcome to Nekoma."
I shook his hand firmly. "Thanks. I'm ready to contribute."
"Confident, huh? I like that," he replied, his sharp eyes glinting. "Let's see if your skills match your words."
Kuroo's challenge wasn't intimidating; it was invigorating. I knew I had to earn my place, and I was ready to put in the work. The team's energy was contagious, and I could already feel myself becoming part of something bigger.
That first practice was grueling but rewarding. Lev and I were partnered for drills, and though he was still raw in terms of technique, his energy and drive pushed me to match his intensity. Kuroo and Kenma—the team's setter—watched us closely, their eyes analyzing every move.
"You've got potential," Kenma said softly after practice, his gaze meeting mine. "But potential means nothing if you don't push yourself."
"I intend to," I replied, wiping the sweat from my brow. "Every day."
As I walked home that evening, I reflected on how much my life had changed. From a sheltered childhood to the intensity of Nekoma's gym, I knew I was on the brink of something incredible. My family, supportive but distant, had always emphasized the importance of hard work, and I was determined to show them that my passion for volleyball wasn't just a passing phase.
My parents were waiting in the dining room when I got home. My father, dressed impeccably as always, looked up from his tablet.
"How was your first day?" he asked, his tone neutral but curious.
"Challenging," I admitted, "but good. The team's strong, and I've got a lot to learn."
My mother smiled warmly. "We're proud of you. Just remember to balance everything. School, volleyball, and rest."
"I will," I promised, though I knew volleyball would always come first in my heart.
Later that night, lying in bed, I replayed the day's events in my mind. Joining Nekoma was only the beginning, and I was determined to leave my mark. With every practice, every match, and every interaction, I'd prove to myself and everyone else that I belonged.