Taiki rolled back and forth on the couch, his stomach doing more flips than an Olympic gymnast. The match loomed ahead like a tidal wave of anxiety, ready to crush his barely-functional volleyball skills into dust.

  "Oh god, oh god, oh god," he muttered into a throw pillow. "I don't even remember which way to rotate after serves. What if I go the wrong direction? What if I just... spin in circles until someone takes pity on me?"

  From the kitchen, Shiori watched him with growing concern. "Shouldn't you be heading to the gym soon?"

  "Can't go. I'm dead. Tell Coach I died tragically in my sleep." Taiki flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling. "Or maybe I got abducted by aliens. That's more interesting."

  "What's wrong?" Shiori approached the couch, coffee mug in hand. "You were so excited yesterday."

  "Yesterday-me was an idiot who didn't realize today-me would have to actually play. For a whole match!" He sat up suddenly, eyes wide. "Do you know how long matches are? They're so long. So many chances to mess up. What if I run out of stamina halfway through and just collapse? Can you forfeit because your setter turned into a puddle?"

  "Taiki-"

  "Or what if I forget all the hand signals? Jin's been drilling them into my head but under pressure? I'll probably think 'quick attack' means 'throw the ball at the referee' or something equally stupid."

  "You're not going to-"

  "Oh god, there are going to be people watching. Like, actual people. With eyes. Who can see me fail in spectacular HD." He grabbed another pillow and smashed it against his face. "Maybe if I suffocate myself now..."

  Shiori plucked the pillow away before he could follow through on that plan. "Are you done?"

  "No. I have at least seven more catastrophic scenarios lined up."

  Shiori found herself fighting back a smile as she watched Taiki spiral into his tenth catastrophic scenario. His hair was sticking up in odd directions from rolling around on the couch, and the way his hands gestured wildly while describing potential volleyball disasters was... adorably chaotic.

  'Stop it,' she scolded herself internally. 'This is not the time to find his panic attacks cute.'

  "Taiki," she cut through his rambling about possibly serving the ball into the back of someone's head. "Take a breath."

  "I'm breathing! I'm breathing so much. Maybe too much? Is this hyperventilation? Should I-"

  "You've been practicing for weeks," Shiori interrupted, perching on the arm of the couch. "Both with the team and at those ridiculous dawn sessions with Maki. Your sets yesterday were solid."

  "But-"

  "And Maki and I will be there watching, so you better not skip out." She crossed her arms. "Because if you do, I'm giving your portion of tonight's curry to Maki."

  Taiki gasped. "You wouldn't."

  "Try me." She raised an eyebrow. "Besides, someone needs to help me hold Maki back when she inevitably tries to fight the referee for making a call against you."

  That finally got a laugh out of him. "She would though, wouldn't she?"

  "Oh absolutely. She's already made three supportive signs and threatened to bring an air horn."

  "Please tell me you took the air horn away."

  "I did. But I'm pretty sure she has a backup hidden somewhere." Shiori stood up "Come on. You can't be late to your first real match."

  Taiki tried to focus. The other team looked... tall. Really tall. And coordinated. And definitely not like they'd only learned volleyball rules a month ago.

  'Just set the ball,' he repeated in his head like a mantra. 'That's literally your only job. Don't think about Sato on the bench. Don't think about how he could probably do this better. Just... ball goes up, ball goes to spiker. Simple.'

  Jin caught his eye from across their team huddle and gave him a subtle nod. Somehow that made it worse. People were counting on him now. Real people who actually knew how volleyball worked.

  The whistle blew, making Taiki jump slightly. Right. Positions. He knew those. Probably. Maybe. His feet carried him to his spot while his brain helpfully supplied images of every possible way this could go wrong.

  'Focus,' he told himself firmly. 'Watch the ball. That's it. Nothing else exists except the ball and your teammates.'

  He could hear Maki's voice somewhere in the crowd - something about destroying their opponents, which was both terrifying and weirdly comforting. Shiori was probably trying to confiscate whatever noisemaker Maki had smuggled in.

  Another whistle. The opposing team's server tossed the ball up.

  The first serve came screaming over the net. Taiki's legs moved, positioning him under the receive. The ball connected with more wobble than he'd like, but it was going up. That's what mattered.

  Jin appeared like a blur in his peripheral vision, and made it work. The ball slammed down on the other side of the court.

  "Nice kill!" someone shouted. Taiki barely registered it, already focused on the next play.

  The second receive came cleaner. This time, Taiki caught glimpses of Roku moving into position. His set felt steadier, less panicked. When Roku connected, the satisfying smack of ball meeting court echoed through the gym.

  "Looking good, setter!" Roku called out, and Taiki felt something in his chest loosen slightly.

  The third play happened almost in slow motion. Taiki saw Daichi's signal, remembered all those brutal morning practices. His fingers connected just right, the ball arcing high and clean exactly where it needed to be. Daichi's spike was devastating.

  The crowd erupted - he definitely heard Maki's distinct screech among them - but Taiki could only stare at his hands. He was doing it. Three actual, real sets that his teammates could use. He was setting. Actually setting, not just flailing and hoping for the best.

  "Don't look so shocked," Daichi grinned, clapping him on the back hard enough to make him stumble. "We told you you could do it."

  The euphoria of those first successful plays didn't last long. Taiki watched helplessly as the opposing team's blockers seemed to materialize exactly where they needed to be, again and again. Jin's spikes got stuffed. Roku couldn't find an opening. Even Daichi's powerful hits were getting picked up more often than not.

  The scoreboard told a grim story - their early lead evaporating point by point.

  "Time out!" Sato's voice cut through.

  The team huddled together, everyone breathing hard. Taiki braced himself for criticism, but Sato's expression wasn't angry - it was focused, analytical.

  "Taiki," Sato said, "I need you to try something different. You're telegraphing your sets."

  "I'm what?"

  "Watch their middle blocker next play. The moment you get under the ball, you turn straight toward whoever you're setting to. It's like putting up a giant sign saying 'spike coming here!'" Sato demonstrated the motion. "You need to delay that turn. Make them guess longer."

  Taiki blinked. He hadn't even realized he was doing it. But now that Sato mentioned it, he could see it in his mind - how he'd been practically pointing arrows at his spikers.

  "Can you try facing forward longer?" Sato asked. "Only turn at the last second?"

  "I... think so?" Taiki wiped his sweaty palms on his shorts. "Won't that make it harder to aim?"

  "Better a slightly messy set they can't block than a perfect one they're waiting for," Jin chimed in.

  The whistle blew, and Taiki took a deep breath. Right. He could try this. Just face forward longer. Simple adjustment.

  His first attempt went sailing way past Jin's reach, nearly hitting one of their supporters in the face. The second set was so low Roku had to practically dig it out of the ground. The third bounced off his fingers at a weird angle and went straight into the net.

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  Each failure made Taiki's stomach twist tighter. The opposing team's points kept climbing. He could feel the weight of everyone's expectations crushing down on him.

  Old Taiki would have crumbled by now. Would have asked to be subbed out, made some excuse about a cramping hand or dizziness. Anything to escape the pressure.

  But he wasn't that Taiki anymore.

  He looked at his teammates - Jin adjusting his position without complaint, Roku giving him a steady nod, Daichi cracking his knuckles with determination. They were all counting on him. They'd spent countless hours practicing with him, teaching him, believing he could do this.

  He'd promised to get better. Not just to them, but to himself.

  Taiki wiped his hands on his shorts and got back into position. So what if his sets weren't working yet? He'd figure it out. He had to. His team needed him to.

  The next receive came in high and clean. Taiki tracked the ball's arc, forcing himself to keep facing forward even as his muscles screamed to turn toward Jin. He could feel the blockers hovering at the net, waiting for his tell.

  Three steps. That's all Jin needed. Taiki counted them in his head, picturing the exact timing they'd drilled in practice. His fingers connected with the ball, and only then did he let himself pivot.

  The blockers hesitated that crucial half-second, caught between following Jin or staying with Roku. The ball floated exactly where it needed to be, and Jin's eyes lit up at the completely open court before him.

  The spike was devastating. No one on the other side even had time to move before the ball slammed into their court with a satisfying crack.

  "That's what I'm talking about!" Jin whooped, catching Taiki in a headlock. "Perfect set!"

  Taiki's hands were still tingling from the contact, but for once it felt right. Natural.

  "See?" Sato called from the bench. "That's why we made you setter!"

  The opposing team's middle blocker was staring at Taiki with new wariness.

  Taiki's mind raced as he settled back into position. All those hours of watching volleyball matches with Sato suddenly clicked into place. It wasn't just about getting the ball to a spiker - it was about reading the whole court.

  He'd always been good at noticing details. The way Jin shifted his weight before a quick attack. How Roku's shoulders tensed slightly before calling for a back attack. Even the opposing team's tells were becoming clear - their libero cheated slightly left, their wing spiker had a habit of glancing at his target spot.

  "Nice receive!" someone called as the ball arced toward him.

  Taiki could see everything - Jin making his approach, Hiro circling behind, the opposing blockers splitting their attention. But more than that, he noticed their middle blocker favoring his right leg slightly.

  Without thinking, Taiki's hands moved, sending the ball to Daichi on the left. The blockers were a split-second too slow to adjust, and Daichi's spike found the floor with devastating force.

  "That's what I'm talking about!" Daichi grinned. "You saw him limping?"

  Taiki nodded, surprising himself. He had seen it, and he'd acted on it instinctively. All those years of overthinking everything, of analyzing every detail until he paralyzed himself with doubt - maybe that wasn't such a bad thing in volleyball.

  The scoreboard ticked over - 20 points, then 25. Their first set victory felt surreal, like someone else's success that Taiki was just watching from afar. The team's celebration swept him up in a whirlwind of high fives and back slaps.

  But volleyball, Taiki discovered, was brutally unforgiving to newcomers. The second set showed exactly why experience mattered. The other team adjusted their blocking patterns, started targeting his weak receives, and exploited every hesitation in his sets. The points slipped away faster than Taiki could process, ending in a decisive loss that felt like a bucket of cold water after their first set high.

  Now, deep into the third set, Taiki's legs felt like lead. His lungs burned with each quick movement, and his arms trembled slightly when he raised them for sets.

  "Nice receive!" someone called, and Taiki forced his heavy body into position. The ball looked fuzzy in his vision, his focus wavering as fatigue set in. His fingers connected, but the set went wide, making Jin scramble to salvage it.

  "Sorry," Taiki gasped out between breaths.

  His brain felt fuzzy from exhaustion, but something was nagging at him.

  He moved left, watching the blockers through sweat-stung eyes. Sure enough, their middle blocker drifted with him, even though Jin was clearly setting up for a spike on the right. It made no sense. Unless...

  They were marking him? Him, the complete newbie who'd only learned what a setter was a month ago?

  Taiki slid right, and again the blockers adjusted, leaving gaps.

  His eyes searched for Takashi, finding their libero already watching him with that scary-intense focus he got during matches. Perfect. Taiki subtly gestured to a spot several steps to his left, hoping his teammate would understand without him having to spell it out.

  Takashi's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed with determination. A tiny nod confirmed he'd gotten the message.

  His receive arced perfectly to where Taiki had indicated, the ball spinning cleanly through the air. The precision of it almost made Taiki smile.

  Taiki tracked the ball's path, already moving to position himself beneath it. He could feel the other team's blockers shifting with him, just as he'd predicted.

  Through his peripheral vision, he caught Daichi's position - completely unmarked on the far side. This was the perfect chance, but the angle was all wrong. Setting across this much court meant adjusting everything - the height, the spin, the timing...

  Taiki's mind started spinning through calculations, trying to factor in distance and trajectory and-

  No.

  He shut down the overthinking with savage determination.

  'Trust your instincts,' he told himself firmly, and let his muscles take over.

  The ball met his fingers, and for once, Taiki didn't second-guess. He didn't analyze. He just set.

  The ball arced high and clean, cutting through the space above the court in a perfect parabola. The opposing blockers realized their mistake too late, scrambling to recover.

  Daichi's eyes lit up with a predatory gleam. His approach steps were textbook perfect.

  The timing was perfect. The placement was perfect. Everything aligned exactly as it should.

  Daichi exploded upward, his jersey rippling with the force of his jump. His arm cocked back like a loaded spring, and for a split second, Taiki could see why their ace commanded such respect on the court.

  The sound of Daichi's palm connecting with the ball echoed through the gym. The ball rocketed downward with such force that it was practically a blur, slamming into the court before anyone on the other side could even move to receive it.

  The bleachers erupted in chaos. Taiki could barely process what had just happened before his teammates swarmed him, Jin's enthusiastic back-slapping nearly knocking him over.

  "Since when do you have an actual brain?" Maki's voice cut through the noise, somehow louder than the rest of the crowd combined. "Who are you and what did you do with my useless friend?"

  Even from the court, Taiki could see Shiori trying to contain Maki's wild gesturing with the 'GO TAIKI' sign she'd been waving around.

  "That was incredible!" Hiro grabbed Taiki's shoulders, shaking him slightly. "You completely played them! They were so focused on following you around that they left Daichi wide open!"

  "Did you see their faces?" Jin cackled. "They looked so confused when the ball went the complete opposite direction!"

  "Good read," Daichi said simply, but his approving nod meant more than all the shouting combined.

  "I can't believe my friend is actually getting smart!" Maki's voice carried across the gym again. "Quick, someone check if he's running a fever!"

  "Maki, sit down before you fall over the railing," Shiori's exasperated tone followed.

  "But did you see what he did? He used his brain! For sports! This is a historic moment!"

  The realization hit Taiki like a bolt of clarity through his exhaustion - he'd cracked their code. Every time the blockers shadowed his movements, gaps appeared elsewhere on the court. When they tried to stay put, he had free reign to set wherever he wanted.

  "Left!" Jin called, and Taiki didn't hesitate. The blockers shifted with him, leaving Roku wide open for a quick attack through the middle.

  Point.

  "Nice kill!" Sato shouted from the bench.

  The next play, Taiki deliberately drifted right, drawing the block with him. At the last second, he sent the ball flying left to Daichi.

  Point.

  His teammates' energy was infectious. Even through his exhaustion, Taiki found himself moving with more confidence, reading the court with growing clarity.

  When the final whistle blew, it took several seconds for the score to register. They'd won. Actually won. His first real match as a setter, and they'd won.

  "Victory curry is on me!" Jin announced, throwing an arm around Taiki's shoulders.

  "I want double portions!" Takashi chimed in.

  "Triple for the setter who finally used his brain!" Daichi grinned.

  Taiki stumbled out of the gym on wobbly legs, his muscles screaming in protest with each step.

  He barely made it three steps before Maki materialized in front of him, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him with surprising strength.

  "Who are you and what have you done with Taiki?" Maki demanded, still shaking him. "I want my useless, brainless friend back! This strategic mastermind is freaking me out!"

  "Stop... shaking..." Taiki managed to get out between rattles. "Going to... throw up..."

  "Oh please, you haven't thrown up from sports in at least two weeks," Maki scoffed, but she did ease up on the shaking. "Seriously though, when did you get so... competent? It's disturbing. I feel betrayed. You're supposed to be my fellow sports disaster!"

  "If you're done trying to give him a concussion," Shiori's voice cut in, "maybe let him breathe? He did just play three full sets."

  "But Shiori!" Maki whined, still not releasing Taiki's shoulders. "He's using his brain! For sports! This goes against everything we stand for in SAMST!"

  "Pretty sure that club was disbanded when you started enjoying basketball," Taiki muttered, trying to find his balance as the world slowly stopped spinning.

  "That's different! I still suck at it! You're actually getting good!" Maki's expression turned accusatory. "You're becoming one of them. A real athlete. Next thing you know, you'll be drinking protein shakes and talking about proper form!"

  "Yeah, not happening," Taiki deadpanned, finally escaping Maki's grip. "Those things taste like someone blended cardboard with chalk and sprinkled in regret."

  "Look at his face!" Maki gasped, pointing dramatically. "He's proud of himself! Shiori, quick, take a picture! This is like seeing a unicorn!"

  "I am not," Taiki protested weakly, but the slight smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

  "You should be," Shiori said quietly, and something in her tone made Taiki's ears go red. "That last set was incredible."

  "I mean, it wasn't terrible," Taiki mumbled, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "For someone who spent most of their life thinking volleyball was just aggressive hot potato."

  But privately, he had to admit it - he was kind of proud. Not just of the winning point, but of how he'd stuck with it even when everything went wrong. The old Taiki would have given up after the first blocked set. This Taiki had actually... adapted. Improved. Maybe even evolved, though he'd never say that out loud or Maki would never let him live it down.

  Maki's face lit up as Sato jogged over to join them, still in his practice gear from helping with the match.

  "Perfect timing!" she chirped. "What's the plan? We need to celebrate Taiki becoming a real boy- I mean, volleyball player!"

  Taiki didn't even bother opening his eyes, having found a somewhat stable position leaning against the gym wall. "Twenty hours of sleep. Straight. No discussion."

  "But-" Maki started.

  "No discussion," Taiki repeated firmly. "My legs feel like overcooked noodles, my arms are definitely not attached anymore, and I'm pretty sure my brain left the building somewhere during that last set."

  "Come on!" Sato's enthusiasm hit like a freight train. "We could get food! Or hit the arcade! Or-"

  "Sleep," Taiki cut him off. "Sweet, beautiful, uninterrupted sleep. The kind where you wake up and don't know what year it is."

  "He's being dramatic," Maki stage-whispered to Sato. "He only played three sets!"

  "Three sets where I had to actually think," Taiki countered. "Do you know how exhausting that is? Using your brain AND your body at the same time? It's unnatural. Humans weren't meant to live like this."