My forearms burn.
It's a strange sensation. It's not the sharp pain of pricking myself with a needle, nor the dull cramp in my neck after spending five hours painting a three-millimeter face.
It's a hot, expansive burn. As if my muscles are awake for the first time in sixteen years.
"Again!" Hinata shouts from the other side of the net. "Don't drop your arms, Gojo! You're Tokyo Tower, not a garden fence!"
I take a deep breath. The gym air tastes of dust and effort. I wipe my forehead, brushing back the bangs sticking to me from sweat.
A week ago, if someone had yelled at me like that, I would have shrunk away and apologized. But Hinata doesn't yell with anger. He yells with... expectation. He believes I can do it.
So I do it.
Hinata tosses the ball into the air. He runs. He jumps.
It's terrifying. Truly. When Hinata is in the air, he doesn't look like a kind, one-meter-sixty boy. He looks like a predator. His eyes lock onto the gap behind me.
Don't look at the ball, I repeat to myself, hearing his voice in my head. Look at the attacker. Read his shoulders.
I see him rotate his torso slightly to the left.
There.
My legs react before my brain does. I take a lateral step. I raise my arms, spreading my fingers as if I were smoothing a very delicate fabric on a table, but with force.
BAM!
The ball hits my hands. It doesn't pass. It bounces upward and falls onto his side of the court.
"YES!" Hinata's scream almost shatters the windows. "That's a block! Perfect read!"
I land. My hands vibrate from the impact. I look at my palms, red and swollen.
Behind me, Izumi slaps me on the back so hard he almost knocks me over.
"Nice one, big guy!" he laughs. "You shut the midget up!"
"Hey!" Hinata protests, ducking under the net. "He didn't shut me up, he shut down the angle! It was beautiful!"
Koji, who is trying (and failing) to do push-ups in a corner, raises a thumb.
"Gojo is scary when he gets serious."
I feel heat rising to my face. I lower my head, embarrassed, but... I can't stop a small smile from escaping.
Big guy. Gojo. Tower.
No one has called me a "weirdo" in this gym. No one has asked why I don't talk. No one has looked at me with disgust.
I look around. It's chaos. There are balls rolling. Water bottles lying around. Izumi is arguing with Hinata about whether basketball is a better sport. Koji is panting like a dog.
A week ago, my world was silent. It was the smell of paint, the sound of rain against my window, and my grandfather's voice. It was a safe world, but lonely.
Now my world is orange, loud, and smells of muscle spray.
And I like it. I like feeling useful. I like that my big hands serve to protect this side of the court.
"Break!" Hinata announces. "Hydration mandatory!"
I walk to the bench. Marin's sketchbook is there. She isn't; she left a while ago saying she had a "secret mission."
I see the drawings of the uniforms. They are black, elegant. They look like crow feathers.
I touch my chest. I'm going to wear that, I think. I'm going to be part of something.
Suddenly, the gym door bangs open, hitting the wall with a crash that makes us all jump.
"ATTENTION, SUBJECTS OF THE EMPIRE!"
Marin Kitagawa is in the doorway. Her uniform is disheveled, her hair a bit messy, and she has a smile that takes up half her face. She looks like she just ran a marathon.
Hinata puts down his water bottle.
"Manager? What's up? Is the school on fire?"
"Better," Marin walks in, striding with that confidence that always dazzles me. She stops in front of us and puts her hands on her hips. "I told you I'd handle logistics, right? Well, I've been fishing."
"Fishing?" Koji asks, confused.
Marin steps aside and points to the hallway behind her.
"The team needs six players to enter the tournament, right? We have four." Marin holds up two fingers. "So I've been using my charms, my contacts, and a little mild emotional blackmail."
Hinata jumps up, eyes shining like headlights.
"Did you bring... people?"
"I brought candidates," Marin corrects, winking. "Come in, guys. They don't bite. Well, Hinata sometimes bites if you take the ball, but he's vaccinated."
From the shadow of the hallway, hesitant footsteps are heard.
My heart races. New people.
I look at Hinata. He isn't afraid. He's vibrating with excitement. And if he's excited, I guess I can try to be brave too.
I wipe my hands on my shirt. I'm ready to meet whoever walks through that door.