Chapter 86: My Battle

(AN: manga spoilers)

This line up is strong. This team always have each other's backs, no matter what hole I find, someone is there to back them up. This is a team of flawed individuals. Sure. But it's a team. A lot more than what we are.

I got up for the block and I see what she's trying to do, another block out. I try to move my hands but I'm not quick enough, the ball grazes my fingers and starts tipping out, "Touch!" I scream, praying someone goes for it.

Aimi goes running after it, getting a fist under the ball, a sloppy recovery but it's high, and right on the net. I jump for it and so does their middle, but this is a moment that strength and height does win.

I get to the ball first, pushing it over the best I can, sliding it off to the side so where her back up is not. They all move for it, but no one gets it. Our serve now, my serve to be exact. It'd be nice if I could get some points here. But it sucks that I am now in the back.

I go back beyond the serve line to serve. This team has no weak players so I can't simply target one. The only way I'm getting ace serves is if I get them to stall by hitting between them. Or by praying on trick shots and going for the line, hoping they call it out.

This is the top team in Japan, they won't let just any ball fall. Or this is at least the second best team in Japan. Because today, we will win.

I go for the line, jump, push a powerful serve that made the back row step back. A small debate, in or out. A tiny hesitation, but they picked in and received the best she could. Which was good, I see it. All of it, "Quick center," I call out knowing the ball was coming, just as I called it.

"Get your hand on it," I call out, praying they listen. The second middle jumps, getting a hand on the block, I move towards the ball getting it up for Aimi to set. She send it left, another third year who finally decided to point some of that anger towards something other than me.

She slams the ball. Unexpectedly, she been sending weak hits all day but now, she send a bullet and the team was not expecting it. A last minute adjustment that sat unsuccessful, passing the ball out.

"Nice ace," I call out, the soul voice of the team.

The ball comes back and I go to the back line. Beyond the back line, another one, I go for the same spot. Make them get used to something and then change it. It seems to work.

The girl gets it with more confidence now, that's fine. Let her get used to it. I have to put a some faith in my team. They may not want me, but they want this win.

I watch, I feel almost useless since I can't attack. But I can help, I can pass the ball keep it in play so I can serve again.

We get the ball back, I get to serve again. But they are not letting us get three points in a row.

They stop us, a strike landing between me and Aimi right when Aimi is supposed to switch to front and Hina moves to cover her spot. Too far for Hina to get from where she was but not a spot I'm used to filling in for. My back row could use work. I know. But next time I'll be ready.

We fight for every point, but so do they. They take the first set. By the time that happens, the boys team is here and the rest of the school and the band and all the parents and family. Our section fills with sound, and we can't let them down.

And we don't we fight for the next two sets with everyone shouting cheers, Bokuto's voice standing out the most at every move I make. I can't let him down and I don't. We take the next two sets.

And going into the next I call out, "Let's end this."

And the team actually responds, "Yeah!"For that moment, we felt like a team. That set we worked together to destroy, the balls were passed, set, sliked, blocked. We made it work. For this final set, we worked hard and no one would have ever guessed we hated each other.

Until the last ball was served, by me. And the other team fell weak to exhaustion, and I close the game with a service ace.

The team cheers, they clap, they jump, they gather, leaving me at the edge of the court. None look back. No, good serve or nice ace. I stand alone, and watch them bask is the wondrous win I helped them achieve.

They show me nothing. Not even Aimi turns or smiles. I'm almost forgotten. But only by them. The news reporter I turned away yesterday practically trips over her mic cord to get to me.

"Mac, Mac," she huffs, "So you did it, you won nationals with your team, how do it feel?"

Feels, empty.

"Feels great," I lie, "We did what we set out to do."

"And that you did. Is there any reason you're not celebrating with your friends?"

I look over to my team, now gathering around the coach. Coach looks my way for a moment before turning back to the team. I answer, "I plan to celebrate later, with both teams."

"Yes, and Mac. What are your thoughts on the boys' loss?" She thrust the mic into my face before I had a moment to think.

I feel my face scrunch up, when the words fly from my lips, "They lost?"