CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

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In the weeks following the Kakugawa match, Ren crammed as much extra volleyball training in his schedule as possible. In between the practices that Karasuno held, he wound up meeting with Shirabu in a local park, spending hours a day with the boy to hone their skills. Today, they'd agreed to meet in the early afternoon, and now they were swapping sets, fixing up their technique.

"It feels like you've gotten better, Hasegawa." Shirabu tossed the ball upwards in a soaring arch, sparing Ren a quick downward glance. "I don't know how to explain it. Physically, nothing's really changed in the way you move. But it feels like your playing is more fluid now."

Ren set the ball back to Shirabu in a lower path, flat and quick. He'd been practicing faster shots recently, hoping to speed up the time of both Karasuno's offense and defense. "I got some help from a new friend. He taught me how to ease up."

The brown-haired boy caught the ball in his hands, lowering it until it was right in front of his chest. Shirabu wore an expression of surprise, eyes slightly round and lips slightly parted. "You made a new friend? Like, other than your classmates or your teammates?"

"...you don't have to sound so surprised. I can make friends! And besides, we bonded over volleyball. That's the thing that tied you and me together, after all." Ren crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at his friend though his mouth was upturned.

Shirabu shrugged, his shocked expression morphing into a smile that mirrored Ren's own. "I guess it is. I think it's great, and I mean that genuinely. It's awesome that you're stepping out of your comfort zone and getting to know more people. But I do hope you're being careful with who you're choosing to associate yourself with. I mean, isn't that your little setter friend over there?"

Ren turned in the direction that Shirabu gestured towards, his gaze settling on a mop of black hair that had a blue sheen peeking out from a few bushes in the surrounding park area. He couldn't really see the face of the person hiding, but there was something familiar about the tousled locks.

...Is that Tobio?

"Hand me that, Shirabu." The Shiratorizawa setter passed the ball over, and Ren threw it over in the direction of their stalker, nailing the guy right on his head. Tobio stumbled forward, landing on his hands with his torso sticking out of the bush that he'd camouflaged in. He had stray leaves and twigs lining his gray cardigan, and he even had a small dirt smear on his pale face.

"What are you doing here, Tobio? And why are you hidden away like that?" Ren hadn't intended to sound blameful, or even disturbed. But the first-year looked mortified, his cheeks red and his mouth pressed into a thin line. He seemed to grow even more embarrassed as Shirabu let out a snort from behind Ren, clearly trying to stifle his laughs.

"Birdwatching! I'm just...birdwatching. Oh, look! A pigeon!" Tobio pointed over in the opposite direction, and Ren turned around out of instinct. And by the time he realized how gullible he'd just acted, Tobio was already scrambling away, leaving a trail of fallen leaves from the bush behind.

Huh. Why would he run?

Ren watched Tobio's retreating figure, picking up the ball from where it landed after hitting the first-year. Oh well. He'd see the boy in practice tomorrow anyway. He could just question Tobio then. But he wished that the first-year wouldn't have bolted like that. Ren totally would've invited him to join in if he'd stayed.

He turned back around, glancing at Shirabu, who was running his fingers through his hair. His friend had a mild expression on his face, but in the sunlight, Ren that that he looked rather intimidating.

Was it because of him?

+++++

Karasuno spent weeks upon weeks preparing and training for the qualifiers. They even returned to the training camp with the other schools, ensuring that they were properly prepared for the intense matches that were fast approaching. Ren had even begun working with Tobio on a special attack, like their personal version of the Tobio-Hinata quick attack. He was even beginning to feel excited at the prospect of unleashing the move on court, hoping for the same level of astonishment that the quick attack got.

Now, late October had arrived, and the prefectural qualifiers had dawned upon them. Karasuno was just unloading from their bus after arriving at the gymnasium, and Ren was stepping out of the vehicle with Nishinoya in tow. He was carrying both his duffel bag and Noya's, the weight of the baggage pressing down on his shoulders.

"Come on, why do I have to be in charge of your stuff? You're not a child. You should be able to manage on your own." Ren huffed, following his friend as Noya flounced forward, though still behind the speedy first-years. There wasn't ever really any sort of catching up with them.

"Come on, just be my personal carrier for today! It's only one day. You'll manage."

"You should be able to manage, you-"

"Oh-pretty boy! Hiya there!" A peppy voice caught their attention, drawing Ren's focus out of their banter. He peeked over Noya's head to see the blonde-haired boy from the aftermath of the Kakugawa game waving at him. "We're playing you first thing today! Don't forget to give me your number if we beat you!"

The blondie had a shit-eating grin on his face that quickly disappeared as Noya leaped through the air to hound him for speaking to Ren like that. But he thought that there was no reason for his friend to protect him like that. He would only hand over his number if Karasuno lost, after all.

And they would win today. Ren didn't hold a single doubt in his mind about it.

...

So, they did.

Karasuno absolutely crushed Johzenji. Ren'd played as setter, just for this one game. And with Tobio having free reign to hit as much as he wanted with that powerful arm of his, and Ren being able to accommodate everyone's preferred style of set, the opposing team didn't stand a chance. As they cleared off the court from their 2-0 victory, he felt a surge of pride in his heart. All his setter practice had paid off. Yet again, Shirabu proved himself as a wonderful training partner.

Ren was chattering away with Tobio and Hinata, water bottle in hand near the benches, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see the blonde boy standing behind him with a hand on the nape of his bare neck. "Um, excuse me? I know you probably don't want to hear from me, but I just wanted to say that your playing was awesome today. And I admit that when I first saw you, I thought you were just a looker. But after what happened today, I got to say that I respect you, man! And I shouldn't have been so disrespectful when we met."

Unexpectedly, the blondie bowed, his head hung low. "I'm Terushima. And I hope that you won't remember that name as the guy who was desperate for your phone number."

Ren tilted his head and smiled. True, Terushima had come across as disturbing when they'd first crossed paths, but the player's words had actually made him feel rather warm inside. Respected? Him? It was like a dream come true. That'd been his goal all along, after all. To have other people respect him because of his skills regarding the sport alone. To have his face, his name, be something that struck a sense of nervousness in an opposing team before they faced off in court. And Terushima had basically just affirmed to feeling all of that.

"Don't sweat it." He took a short step over, pulling his phone out of his duffel bag and opening it up, offering it to the blondie. "And I promise I won't let myself remember you as the guy who was desperate for my number. Because I'm giving it to you anyway, Then, you'll have more opportunities to make me forget your attempts to make a pass at me."

Terushima straightened, appearing as though he was frozen in shock at Ren's remark. "What? Really?"

"You were a little douchey at first, yeah. But you respect me, Terushima. And not many people do. So long as you treat me as well as I know I'm worth, I see no reason why we shouldn't stay in touch."

The blondie eagerly agreed, inputting his number into Ren's phone. He thought back to Shirabu's taunting over his making of new friends, ready to rub this instance in the brunette's face later on.

But as he recalled that memory, another resurfaced, and he turned around, almost reflexively, to look at Tobio. The boy had furrowed brows and a grim expression. His hands were curled into tight fists at his sides, and his shoulders were raised stiffly. He looked angry, frustrated, and murderous.

No, he looked jealous.

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