Hinata Shoyo pressed his forehead against the cold window of the old gym. Even with the glass fogged by winter air and noisy kids running across the schoolyard behind him, he could still see the court inside. The volleyball net stretched quietly across the floor. The lines were faded and the wooden boards needed polishing, but Hinata did not care. All he saw was possibility. All he felt was something burning behind his ribs.
He had never stepped onto that court during an official practice. Never joined any real team. Never played a full six on six game. Most days, he only watched from outside after school until the lights went out. Yet every time he stared through that dusty window, a voice inside him whispered the same thing.
You belong there.
The problem was simple. His middle school did not have a real volleyball club. They had a sign-up sheet taped to a faded bulletin board, but the last official team had existed years before Hinata arrived. Nobody talked about volleyball. Nobody watched volleyball. Most did not even know the rules. The few boys who liked sports were already split between basketball and soccer.
Hinata refused to give up.
He grabbed his worn backpack, rushed to the entrance, and pushed through the heavy door. The gym lights flickered weakly, humming with a low buzz that filled the quiet air. The floor smelled faintly of sweat and dust. Basketball players were packing up, talking loudly about some tournament next weekend.
Hinata waited by the sidelines and bounced lightly on his toes. The ball he brought from home peeked out of his bag, the same one he had begged his mother to buy after watching a single televised match.
He did not know many pro teams. He did not know the names of famous players. He just remembered the moment the announcer shouted about a small ace soaring higher than anyone else on the court. The Little Giant. The words had hit him like lightning.
A small player who could fly.
Not tall. Not broad. Not anything expected of a typical volleyball star. Yet completely unstoppable.
Hinata wanted that. He wanted to feel that rush, that weightlessness, that freedom.
The basketball players finally left. He walked into the empty space and placed his ball in the center. He rotated his shoulders and stretched carefully. His mother always nagged him to stretch after he pulled a muscle in PE class once. He did not argue with her anymore. Pain would only slow him down.
The gym was quiet in a way that felt sacred. He walked to the far end, bent his knees, and tossed the ball into the air. With a sharp inhale, he swung with all the strength he had.
The ball slammed into the net and rolled back to his feet.
Hinata picked it up again. His hand stung. His chest tightened. But he smiled.
He tossed it higher, jumped earlier, and swung faster.
This time, it cleared the net but crashed straight into the floor two steps away.
He retrieved it again.
Try again. Fix the timing. Fix the angle.
Over and over. Until his arms ached and his legs trembled.
He practiced alone because he had no teammates yet, but he knew he needed them. Volleyball was not a solo sport. That truth annoyed him and motivated him in equal measure.
He wanted a team. He needed a team.
He stopped when the janitor entered the gym with a broom. The old man looked at Hinata with tired eyes.
"You are still here?" he asked.
Hinata nodded. "I wanted to get a few more hits in."
"Every day with you." The janitor scratched his chin. "You will wear yourself out."
"I will get stronger."
The janitor shook his head with a small laugh. "Well, do not break anything."
Hinata bowed politely, grabbed his bag, and headed home under the dim afternoon sky.
His apartment was small. Not cramped, but simple. His mother was already cooking dinner and looked up with surprise when he walked in.
"You are early," she said. "Did the gym close?"
"Almost. I left before the janitor kicked me out."
She frowned slightly. "You trained too long again."
"I am fine."
She looked at him carefully. His hair was messy, his sweatshirt was damp with sweat, and his eyes held the same stubborn glimmer she had seen ever since he discovered volleyball.
"You need water before you collapse," she said.
Hinata drank a full glass and sat down with his notebook. He flipped through his sketches of plays he did not fully understand, diagrams of rotations he copied from online videos, and a list of potential teammates. Some names were crossed out. Some were scribbled over in frustration.
Tomorrow, he would try recruiting again.
---
The next day during lunch break, he approached two boys sitting under the stairs.
"Do either of you want to try volleyball?" Hinata asked.
"No."
"We have a court."
"We do not care."
Hinata tried smiling. "It is fun. Really fun."
One boy shrugged. "Not interested."
The other boy laughed. "Why not join basketball? That sport actually exists at this school."
Hinata shook his head. "I want volleyball."
The boys turned away.
He tried asking classmates. He tried asking second years. He tried asking first years who looked athletic enough to move. Most gave him strange looks. Some laughed. A few apologized but clearly had no intention of joining.
By the time classes ended, he felt the weight of the day pressing on his shoulders. He went back to the gym anyway.
The basketball team was still practicing. Their captain eyed Hinata waiting on the side and sighed.
"You again? You cannot use the whole court."
"I just need half."
"Fine. Just stay out of our way."
Hinata took half the court and worked on receives. The basketball players joked about him under their breath. He ignored them. He ran drills alone, tossing the ball into the air and sliding under it as fast as he could. His arms burned. His knees scraped the ground. Every time he missed, he ran to get the ball as fast as possible.
When the basketball team left, he set up a chair and used it as a substitute setter. He tossed the ball high, sprinted around the chair, and spiked from different angles. His timing was awful, but he kept trying. Sweat ran down his forehead. His shirt clung to his back.
He repeated the same motions until his legs felt heavy and every breath came out sharp.
The janitor came in again.
"You will break your body, kid."
Hinata bowed. "Not yet."
The janitor watched him pick up his ball again and sighed.
"You really want to play that badly?"
"Yes."
The janitor hesitated, then said quietly, "There is a tournament next spring. If you find enough players, the school can apply."
Hinata froze.
"There is a tournament?"
The janitor nodded. "Every year."
Hinata clenched his fists. "Then I will get a team. I will enter."
The janitor almost smiled. "Good luck."
Hinata packed his things and walked home in the cold evening air. His legs felt like stone, but his heart felt lighter.
There was a goal now. Something real.
A tournament was not just a dream. It was a date circled on a calendar. A door waiting to be pushed open.
All he needed were teammates.
---
The next morning, he approached the quietest student in his class. The boy had soft features, glasses that fogged easily, and a habit of mumbling to himself.
"Excuse me," Hinata said.
The boy looked up nervously.
"Can you try volleyball? Just once?"
"I am not good at sports."
"I can teach you."
"I do not think so."
Hinata bowed. "Please. I need players."
The boy hesitated. Something about Hinata's eyes made him pause. They were bright, determined, and impossible to ignore.
"Fine," the boy said. "One practice."
"Thank you."
Hinata nearly jumped for joy.
Later that day, he found a second willing participant. A tall second year named Fukuda who used to play baseball but quit after an injury. Fukuda shrugged when Hinata asked.
"Sure. I have nothing else to do."
That was enough for Hinata.
He gathered both boys after school and brought them to the gym. He stood proudly with his lone volleyball.
"We are going to become a team."
The boy with glasses stared at the net with fear. "A team of three?"
"For now."
Hinata demonstrated how to hold a passing form, how to cup hands properly, how to bend knees without locking them. He tried teaching with patience even though his heart beat fast with excitement. Fukuda picked things up slowly but with steady focus. The boy with glasses struggled with every movement but kept trying.
By the end of the session, neither of them could receive a ball cleanly. Fukuda almost sprained his wrist. The boy with glasses tripped twice.
Hinata was ecstatic.
He could work with this. He could build a team.
He ran home full of energy and told his mother everything.
She raised an eyebrow. "Three people is not a full team."
"It will be enough. I will find more."
She smiled softly. "I see."
Something in her voice made Hinata pause.
"Do you think I can do it?" he asked quietly.
His mother wiped her hands on a towel and came closer. She placed a gentle hand on his head.
"Holding on to a dream is not easy," she said. "Most children give up when it hurts. You never do. That alone tells me you will make something happen."
Hinata felt warmth spread through him. "I will make a real team. I promise."
---
The next few weeks were a blur of effort.
Hinata chased students through hallways asking if they wanted to try volleyball. He carried a sign during lunch break that said Join the Club. He practiced every day with his two teammates. They improved slowly. Very slowly. But every small improvement felt huge to Hinata.
One afternoon, Hinata found the gym unexpectedly empty. Fukuda and the boy with glasses were already there. They were passing the ball back and forth. It was sloppy, but they were trying without him pushing them.
Hinata froze for a moment.
They were motivated because of him.
He felt a swelling pressure in his chest. Something close to pride.
He joined them and clapped his hands. "OK. Today we work on serves."
Fukuda groaned. "I can barely receive."
Hinata laughed. "Then you learn both. The tournament is coming."
The boy with glasses looked nervous. "Do you think we can win?"
Hinata did not answer right away.
He wanted to win more than anything, but he knew their level. He knew their weaknesses. He knew the reality.
Winning might be impossible.
"I do not know," Hinata said honestly. "But we can play. And that is enough for now."
They trained until the sky turned red. They trained until their bodies ached. They trained until Hinata could not feel his forearms.
When he walked home, he felt a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction that made every step feel lighter.
He was building something. Slowly. Clumsily. But he was building it.
---
The night before the deadline to submit teams for the spring tournament, Hinata stayed awake staring at the ceiling. His stomach twisted. His heart beat too fast.
Three players were not enough. They needed at least one substitute or someone to keep score. Most schools entered with full rosters and coaches. His school barely had a supervising teacher.
But Hinata refused to give up.
He went to school early the next morning and ran through the halls looking for anyone who might join. He asked classmates. He asked first years. He asked the student council. He asked the track team. He asked the art club. Every rejection stung.
He stood in the empty hallway with the form in his hand. His fingers trembled.
Then someone tapped his shoulder.
It was a quiet boy from another class. He looked uncomfortable.
"I heard you need one more player," the boy said.
Hinata practically exploded with joy. "Yes. Yes. Do you want to join?"
"I am not sure. I cannot jump very high."
"You can learn. Please help us enter the tournament."
The boy blinked at Hinata's enthusiasm and handed him a small note. "Meet me after school. I will try."
Hinata sprinted to the teacher's office and handed in the form with all four names signed. The teacher raised an eyebrow at the tiny roster.
"This is very small," the teacher said.
"It is enough."
The teacher sighed. "I hope you know what you are doing."
"I do."
Hinata did not know everything. But he knew this:
He finally had a team.
He finally had a chance.
He finally had a path forward.
When he left the office, he stared at the gym through the window again. The net was waiting for him. The court was waiting for him. His dream was waiting for him.
Tomorrow, they would practice harder than ever.
Tomorrow, they would begin their journey.
Tomorrow, he would take the first real step toward becoming someone who could fly.
The Little Giant had sparked something in him long ago.
Now it was time to chase that spark with everything he had.