New Heights (Haikyuu Fanfic)

Chapter 48: Homework

"So is this like a wig or something," one of the third years snarls, the moment I enter the gym.

The other tugs at one of the tight braids, sending a throbbing pain to my scalp.

We got back kinda late last night, and sleeping on newly braided hair is not fun and here they are, messing with me, just waiting for me to do something.

We didn't even get back to the Ito house last night. Uncle Hikaru drove us to school this morning. Bokuto didn't seem to have a problem with it. One more night far away from his Dad. I wonder what he'd think of the new look, no more bunny tail. At least not until we get back from our college trip.

I shouldn't be worrying about what he thinks anyway. Him or anyone else.

"Leave me alone," I huff, snatching my braid out of her hand.

With a laugh she said, "Ooo, what are you gonna do? Whip me with it?"

"No way, the slut's a freak too? Should have known," said the other.

"Seriously, don't you too have anything better to do?" I roll my eyes, scanning the gym for Hina. Before today, I was almost willing to give these two a break. Figured they were just going along with it for Hina, but no. They are complete ass-holes on their own.

"Hey," said a weak voice, shaking with just one word. I look up to see Aimi, standing with her eyes down again, "We need Zara to help with the net. It's stuck and, and she's the tallest one, so..."

A shove on my back thrusted me forward, as one laughed, "Sure, Skyscraper can help."

I don't stumble, just step into and walk upright. Roll with the punches, literally.

Once out of ear shot I mutter, "Thanks," to Aimi. Finally she speaks up, only when Hina isn't around.

"You're welcome," She said, voice so small.

We get to the net that doesn't need fixing and ask, "Where's Hina, she was in class today."

"She said she had to check the handbook for something," Aimi shrugs.

Like clockwork, Coach steps into the gym and Hina out of the locker rooms, sporting her.

"Coach," Hina called out, "Coach, Zara can't practice with us." She ran over to the coach, who was still unzipping her coat. Hina waved a packed of papers in her face saying, "See, no excessive hair accessories. She's violating the dress code, she can't practice on this court."

The coach let out a sigh, "Hina. What is the problem?"

Hina shoved a finger my way saying sharply, "Look, she's got all the stuff in her hair. She can't practice like that!"

I roll my eyes and call out across the gym, "I can play fine coach. A woman just had braids like this in the last Olympics and they let her play volleyball."

"But," Hina raised the handbook again but coach snapped, "Hina, point to that book one more time and you will run a lap for every page in that handbook."

She looked down at the thick packet in her hand, and thought it best to let it go. She tossed it aside before commanding we all circle up the stretch.

Hina's not winning today, meaning, she's not happy. She became even more upset with my performance, in a few weeks I'll be training with one of the top volleyball schools in the states. I want to show them that I'm worth keeping. That I belong on their team.

I think I've already given up on making this team my own. This is Hina's team. Hina's court. They're just my ticket to nationals. And I'm theirs. They know it and they hate it.