"Who the hell does he think he is?!" Kindaichi grumbles as he grabs his water bottle. Kitagawa has lost their first set in the practice match and they are about to lose the second. The whole team has been lacking teamwork and losing momentum. Heck, they've barely build any momentum.

And Kindaichi blames it all on Tobio.

"Is he getting cocky now that Oikawa-san is gone and he's the new starting setter?" Kindaichi takes a big sip from his bottle. Kunimi listens silently, but he shows obvious frustration on his face. Everyone is on the edge, the pressure rising along with the tension, especially between Tobio.

Tobio rubs on his sweaty face vigorously. Irritation. VERY irritated, and he doesn't know why. He slaps the towel over his head and grips onto his knees. Perhaps it's because he's losing the match, he has been trying to get his spikers to run faster, jump high to avoid the block, but that strategy of his isn't working so well.

Goddamn, does he wish he could spike, set, serve and block all by his own.

Goddamn, does he wants to win so badly.

Months have past after the funeral, Tobio felt his days becoming cloudy.

Cloudy, as if he couldn't think at all. Not like he has ever tried to stay focus in class, but it's just a blur to him. Time flows by like a river. These grey memories of every night and day seems to come and go like a gush of wind, it barely leaves an impact on Tobio, as they slip past his mind. Sometimes he tries to grip on the voices, calling out to him, he couldn't even remember their faces. And honestly he couldn't give a damn to look at them. Everything feels so virtual, so holographic, the world covers in shades of grey.

Except when he is on the damn court, then everything becomes crystal clear.

Yes, Tobio remembers the smell of the gym, the sight of it's vibrant colour. He swear, the sound of their shoes squeaking against the wooden floor, the spikers smashing volleyballs, whistlers blowing, squads cheering, it echoes at the back of his mind. Tobio's focus sharpens on the court, brought to life by volleyball. He could picture the match so vividly, the excitement and enthusiasm that drives him, that pump of adrenaline in his heart, legs and arms racing across the court. The slow driven momentum, tension, rythmn beats into his core.

Tobio is addicted.

He would do anything to stay in this state, to keep staying here on the court, behind the net. Because the moment he walks off the court, everything fogs up again, blinding his mental vision and senses. 

If it means to win to stay, then Tobio wants to win so badly. No, he tells himself that he NEEDS to win. He has spent seconds, minutes, hours and perhaps his whole life on volleyball, so much that his classmates has secretly nicked him as a 'boring and outdated volleyball jock' behind his back. Tobio has asked his classmates about volleyball before, but they had their interests on the latest video games. Tobio couldn't give a damn about video games. He couldn't give a damn about anything else. His lack of exposure to other activities degrades his social status greatly. And it's not like Tobio understands how to socialise properly.

So if he had to talk to anyone, Ji-chan was the first to come his mind.

That's right, Ji-chan.

His Ji-chan was the one who introduced Tobio to volleyball. Ever since Tobio's first touch on the ball, he couldn't let go of it. Tobio had spent most of his childhood training, practicing and playing with his sister and Ji-chan, and he relishes it very much. Ji-chan even once said he would out-play his sister someday.

That made Tobio more determine than ever.

Tobio has poured in all his passion and dreams for volleyball with Ji-chan, and Ji-chan would be there to listen to him. He loves listening to his grandchildren, especially Tobio, you could even say Tobio was Ji-chan's favourite. So Tobio didn't give a damn about socialising. Who cares if no one talks to him in class, communicating with his teammates was already a pain for him. All he needs is his volleyball, sipping on milk, standing on the court, behind the net and Ji-chan.

He still has everything, except Ji-chan.

Tobio moves his hand from his kness to his chest, he pushes his chest in.

Feeling stuffy, like a clog in his heart.

He doesn't know how to describe it. Heck, he doesn't need to describe it, like if he would tell anyone about it, neither would anyone ask.

It stirs inside him slowly.

-----

The match ended, Kitagawa lost.

Tobio would want to stay back for more practice, but his coach notices the weather and rushes the team to pack up, and go home immediately. Grey clouds roams over Migayi, students picking up their pace and starts running, some heading into shelter. Others have umbrella, jackets, blazers, even their bags over their heads.

Tobio did none of those.

A low, mellow growl echoes through the sky, follow by light rain shower drizzling down, tapping on Tobio little by little as it gets heavier. The tall boy continues to walk down the path, maintaining his slow pace, by passing other people as umbrella tips scraping over his shoulders, face. None of them could even provide him any little coverage.

His hair rinsed and his clothes gradually getting drenched in rain water. Tobio pauses in the middle of the pathway despite of the rain getting heavier. He looks up towards the sky.

Droplets washes down on his face, with some poking into his eyes.

That stuffy feeling Tobio had during mid match was stirring again, growing, like a tumour, eating him up inside. It's buried so deep, he couldn't get a hold of it, he couldn't even interpret his own emotions.

Tobio was hoping the rain would wash away that feeling.

Water continues to drip from his face, to his shoulders, arms, legs. He closes his eyes, the chilling wind breathes through the earth, blowing on Tobio's wet clothes. The coldness runs up his spines. Tobio shivers a little, but the shivering feels good for him, much better than that stuffy feeling fucking around with him.

The rain gradually shifts from a light shower to a torrential downpour. Tobio turns his head away from the sky, finally starts picking up his pace and searches for shelter. He rubs his eyes and wipes off excess droplets on his face. Luckily, he manages to find cover under an old shop lot.

He runs his fingers over his bangs, pushes them back and tilts his head up, observing the sky again.

He might be going home later than usual today, which means no time to watch volleyball match.

That's bad news for him.

-----

Credit: @yuukosmos (Twitter)