Mizuki Sayeko had never been fond of the whole 'soulmates' concept, not when her past warned her of the side-effects of falling too deep into the lucid, hypnotising trap. With piercing gazes, a stone-cold heart, would her soulmates ever get through...
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"HE WHO HAS A WHY TO LIVE FOR can bear almost anyhow." Dressed in the mandatory tracksuit for Karasuno's analyst, Mizuki stood before her team, hands placed on her hips.
The boys turned to her in confusion, having already heard words of encouragement from their coach and their teacher. "Huh?"
"If you have an unbelievable desire to accomplish anything, you will move mountains to achieve it, no matter what the circumstances are."
Mizuki stared at each and every one of them, her lilac eyes frozen over. They could see the unwavering faith she possessed for them, specs that have grown ever since her first day with them. Mizuki Sayeko believed in her team. They were going to get through this match, and the next, and go to nationals.
"You got this."
The match began, and Mizuki knew they had changed a lot. Yet, she could see how Hinata was getting worked up. And so could his soulmate. Therefore, she wasn't even surprised when Kageyama kicked him. She knew the two soulmates had weird ways of comforting each other.
"Calm it down, you...uh...dumbass!"
And when Hinata managed to break through Kindachi's block, spiking the ball harshly, shattering the looming despair that followed him, Mizuki smirked. They were now at the starting line.
"And so it begins," she hummed, sitting back upon the bench. Beside her, Takeda and Ukai grinned brightly.
When Aoba Johsai's player, Matsukawa, managed to narrow Hinata's course, Mizuki bit the inside of the cheek. Aoba Johsai was not a team who messed around, nor were they a team in which Oikawa carried. Each individual on that team was exceptional.
But his serve.
Oh, it was fucking impressive.
The ball landed on their side of the court, an echo resounding throughout the gymnasium. Mizuki's eyes widened. That was absolutely incredible. She knew now why Ushijima talked so highly of the brunet. The way the ball shot over the net, the wind pressure picking up, the sweet sound of it crashing against the ground. Out of all the videos she's watched on volleyball (and, believe me when I say she watched A LOT), Mizuki had never seen a serve like that.
"Sugoi," she muttered, catching the attention of everyone on the bench. They gulped. If Oikawa managed to impress Mizuki, they were really in for it.
They were at a match point.
An odd feeling churned in her stomach as Seijoh subbed in their player number 16, a boy with bleached shaved hair, a daunting form and what seemed to be a permanent scowl on his face.
Mizuki turned to Ukai. "Who is he?"
"I've never seen that player before," he replied, a finger on his chin, scrutinising the unknown figure.
