---
The extra training didn't feel special anymore.
It became routine.
After every practice—
While the others packed up—
Hinata stayed.
Takeda stayed.
The ball kept moving.
Again.
Again.
Again.
---
"Lower."
Takeda adjusted.
Received.
Better.
"Again."
---
"Earlier."
Takeda moved sooner.
Received.
Cleaner.
"Again."
---
No breaks.
No shortcuts.
No wasted words.
Just repetition.
Correction.
Execution.
---
At first—
Takeda improved quickly.
His footwork sharpened.
His timing got better.
His receives—
More stable.
Less drift.
Less panic.
---
But after a few days—
It slowed.
Then—
It stopped.
---
Hinata noticed immediately.
Because that's what he watched now.
Not just results—
Progress.
---
"Again."
Serve.
Takeda moved.
Received.
Slightly off.
Not bad.
But not good enough.
---
Again.
Another receive.
Same issue.
Same slight drift.
Same delay.
---
Hinata frowned slightly.
"…Again."
---
Takeda's breathing got heavier.
His movements—
Less sharp.
Not from effort.
From strain.
From trying to push past something—
That wouldn't move.
---
"Again."
The ball came faster.
Takeda reacted.
Late.
Just a fraction.
The ball slipped past his arms.
Hit the floor.
Silence.
---
Takeda stayed still.
"…Sorry…"
Hinata shook his head.
"…Again."
---
They continued.
But now—
The mistakes increased.
Not decreased.
---
Takeda adjusted harder.
Moved faster.
Forced reactions.
And because of that—
His control dropped.
---
The next receive—
Too strong.
Too far.
Out of reach.
---
The next—
Too soft.
Dropped short.
---
Then—
Another miss.
---
The ball rolled across the floor.
No one moved.
---
Takeda's shoulders dropped.
"…I'm not getting better."
Silence.
Hinata didn't answer immediately.
Because—
Right now—
That felt true.
---
"…Again."
The word came anyway.
Because stopping—
Was worse.
---
But this time—
Takeda didn't move right away.
"…Hinata."
Hinata paused.
"…What?"
Takeda looked at him.
For the first time—
Not nervous.
Not hesitant.
Just—
Tired.
"…What if I can't catch up?"
Silence.
---
That question—
Didn't belong in practice.
But now—
It was here.
---
Hinata stared at him.
Didn't respond.
Because there was no easy answer.
---
Takeda continued.
"…Everyone else is getting better."
"…Yeah."
"…Faster than me."
Silence.
"…I'm trying."
"I know."
"…But it's not enough."
The words landed.
Heavy.
Honest.
Unavoidable.
---
Hinata clenched his fists slightly.
Because this—
Was the part no one talked about.
Not in training.
Not in matches.
---
Limits.
---
Takeda looked down.
"…I don't want to slow the team."
"You're not."
"…But I am."
Silence.
Because—
Right now—
That was true.
---
Footsteps.
The others hadn't left.
They were watching.
Quietly.
Listening.
---
Fukuda spoke first.
"…You're overthinking."
Takeda didn't look up.
"…No."
Sato added,
"You've improved."
"…Not enough."
Nakamura whispered,
"…We all struggled…"
Takeda shook his head.
"…Not like this."
---
Mori stepped forward.
"You have reached a plateau."
Silence.
Fukuda frowned.
"…That helps."
Mori continued calmly.
"Plateaus are part of development."
Takeda looked up.
"…So I just stay like this?"
"No."
"…Then what?"
Mori looked at Hinata.
"…That depends."
---
Again—
It came back to him.
---
Hinata exhaled slowly.
Thinking.
Not just about Takeda.
About the team.
The system.
The pace.
The goal.
---
Then—
"…We test it."
Takeda blinked.
"…Test what?"
"You."
Silence.
---
Fukuda smirked slightly.
"…About time."
Sato looked unsure.
"…You mean… in a match?"
Hinata nodded.
"…Full pressure."
Takeda's eyes widened slightly.
"…Now?"
"Yes."
---
Mori nodded.
"Correct approach."
Nakamura whispered,
"…Real conditions…"
Takeda hesitated.
"…What if I fail?"
Silence.
Hinata met his eyes.
"…Then we know."
---
The honesty hit hard.
But it was necessary.
---
They reset the court.
Six on six.
Full match.
No adjustments.
No slowing down.
No protection.
---
Takeda stood in position.
Heart pounding.
Not from running.
From pressure.
---
The whistle blew.
---
First serve.
Fast.
Direct.
To Takeda.
---
He moved.
Arms steady.
Contact—
Clean.
Perfect.
The ball rose smoothly.
Hinata set.
Fukuda hit.
Point.
---
Silence.
Then—
Fukuda nodded slightly.
"…Good."
Takeda exhaled.
But only slightly.
Because—
It wasn't over.
---
Second rally.
Serve again.
This time—
Faster.
Lower.
Harder.
---
Takeda reacted.
Late.
Just a bit.
The ball hit his arms—
Too sharp.
Flew off.
Out.
Point lost.
Silence.
---
Takeda froze.
"…I—"
"No reset," Hinata said.
"…Next."
---
Third rally.
Serve.
Again.
Targeted.
---
Takeda moved.
Adjusted.
Better.
But not perfect.
The ball drifted.
Hinata chased.
Set late.
Sato hit—
Blocked.
Point.
---
The pattern was clear.
The opponent saw it too.
---
Again.
Serve to Takeda.
Again.
Pressure.
Again.
Inconsistency.
---
Some receives—
Perfect.
Some—
Off.
Some—
Late.
---
The match continued.
But now—
Everything focused on one point.
One player.
One question.
---
Can he hold?
---
Mid-match—
The answer was unclear.
Not failure.
Not success.
Something in between.
---
Takeda was sweating heavily now.
Breathing uneven.
Eyes sharper—
But strained.
---
Another serve.
Hard.
Direct.
He moved.
Contact—
Clean.
Perfect.
---
Then—
Next serve.
Same spot.
Same speed.
He hesitated.
Just a moment.
The ball dropped.
Point.
---
Silence.
---
Fukuda stepped back.
"…There it is."
No anger.
Just observation.
---
Takeda stood still.
Not moving.
Not speaking.
---
Hinata watched.
Every movement.
Every hesitation.
Every correction.
Every failure.
---
The match ended.
Not a blowout.
Not close either.
---
They stepped off the court.
No one spoke at first.
---
Takeda looked at his hands.
"…I can't keep it consistent."
No one interrupted.
Because that—
Was true.
---
Sato scratched his head.
"…You had some good ones…"
"…But not enough."
Nakamura whispered,
"…You held for a while…"
"…Not the whole match."
Fukuda crossed his arms.
"…That's the standard."
Silence.
---
Mori spoke.
"Now we have data."
Hinata nodded slowly.
"…Yeah."
---
He stepped forward.
Looking at Takeda.
Not harsh.
Not soft.
Just—
Clear.
"…You're not there yet."
Takeda nodded.
"…I know."
---
A pause.
Then—
"…But you're not out."
Takeda blinked.
"…What?"
Hinata's voice stayed steady.
"…We don't decide that yet."
---
Fukuda raised an eyebrow.
"…So what now?"
Hinata answered.
"…We push harder."
Sato blinked.
"…Harder?"
"Yes."
Takeda looked unsure.
"…I already—"
"You haven't hit your limit."
Silence.
Because that—
That was a challenge.
---
Mori nodded.
"Limits are often misjudged."
Hinata continued.
"…We change how you train."
Takeda looked up.
"…How?"
Hinata's eyes sharpened.
"…We break your habits."
---
The words carried weight.
Because this—
Wasn't just practice anymore.
It was reconstruction.
---
Takeda exhaled slowly.
Then—
"…Okay."
---
No confidence.
No certainty.
Just—
Decision.
---
As they left the gym—
The air felt heavier.
Not because of failure.
But because—
The path ahead had changed.
---
Hinata walked behind the team again.
Thinking.
This wasn't about simple improvement anymore.
This was about—
Limits.
Breaking them.
Or—
Accepting them.
---
And he wasn't ready to accept anything yet.
"…We keep going."
Because stopping—
Wasn't an option.
Not for him.
Not for the team.
Not for Takeda.
---