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Chapter 39 - CHAPTER 39: ALONE AT THE NET

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The gym was quiet.

Not silent.

Just—

Empty.

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Hinata stood at center court.

Ball in hand.

No teammates.

No voices.

No calls.

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Just him.

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The last match stayed in his head.

Not the loss.

Not the score.

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The moments.

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The hesitation.

The wrong choice.

The delay.

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"…I'm the limit."

The words came back.

Clear.

Unavoidable.

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He bounced the ball once.

Twice.

Then tossed it up.

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Set.

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Too slow.

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He caught it.

Again.

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Set.

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Too obvious.

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Again.

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Set.

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No pressure.

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No meaning.

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Hinata stopped.

Exhaled.

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This wasn't working.

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Because setting alone—

Wasn't setting.

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Setting needed—

Information.

Movement.

Choices.

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Without that—

It was just a motion.

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He looked at the empty court.

Then—

Moved.

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He tossed the ball.

Ran to position.

Set.

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Then moved again.

Different angle.

Set again.

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Again.

Again.

Again.

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Simulating.

Imagining.

Forcing scenarios.

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"…Left."

He said it out loud.

Set.

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"…Back."

Set.

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"…Quick."

Set.

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But something was missing.

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He stopped.

Frustration building.

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"…This isn't it."

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Because in a real match—

There was no time to think like this.

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Everything happened at once.

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He closed his eyes.

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Replayed the match.

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The blockers.

Their movement.

Their timing.

Their eyes.

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Not on the ball.

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On him.

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His hands.

His shoulders.

His steps.

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They weren't reading the set.

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They were reading—

Him.

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Hinata's eyes opened.

Sharp.

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"…Then I change that."

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He picked up the ball again.

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This time—

He didn't focus on the set.

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He focused on himself.

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His posture.

His movement.

His rhythm.

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He tossed the ball.

Moved.

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Paused.

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Then set.

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Again.

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Moved.

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No pause.

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Set.

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Again.

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Fake pause.

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Set fast.

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Again.

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Same motion.

Different result.

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Again.

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Different motion.

Same result.

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Over and over.

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He wasn't practicing sets anymore.

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He was practicing deception.

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Removing patterns.

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Breaking habits.

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Hours passed.

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The floor filled with the sound of the ball.

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Set.

Step.

Turn.

Release.

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Again.

Again.

Again.

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His breathing got heavier.

His legs slower.

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But he didn't stop.

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Because now—

He understood something.

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It wasn't about choosing faster.

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Or choosing better.

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It was about not being readable.

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At all.

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He tossed the ball again.

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Moved—

Identical steps.

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This time—

Set back.

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Next time—

Same steps.

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Set front.

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Again—

Same setup.

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Dump.

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The ball dropped near the net.

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Hinata stared at it.

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"…That's it."

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Not different choices.

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Same starting point.

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Different outcomes.

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No signal.

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No tell.

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No pattern.

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He reset.

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Again.

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Again.

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Again.

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His movements tightened.

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Less wasted motion.

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More control.

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More precision.

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More—

Uncertainty.

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Because even he—

Didn't fully know what he'd choose until the last moment.

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That was the goal.

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A voice broke the silence.

"…You're still here."

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Hinata turned.

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Mori stood at the entrance.

Arms crossed.

Watching.

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Hinata blinked.

"…How long?"

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"Long enough."

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Silence.

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Mori stepped inside.

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"You changed something."

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Hinata nodded.

"…Trying to."

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Mori walked closer.

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"Show me."

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Hinata picked up the ball.

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Tossed.

Moved.

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Same motion.

Same approach.

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At the last second—

Set left.

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Again.

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Same movement.

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Set right.

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Again.

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Same start.

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Soft dump.

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Mori watched carefully.

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"…Indistinguishable."

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Hinata exhaled.

"…That's the point."

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Mori nodded.

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"You removed your tells."

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Hinata looked at his hands.

"…I had too many."

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Silence.

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Mori spoke again.

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"This will change everything."

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Hinata nodded slowly.

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"…It has to."

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Because now—

It wasn't just about the team adapting.

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It was about him—

Becoming something harder to read.

Harder to stop.

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Mori turned to leave.

Then paused.

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"They won't keep up immediately."

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Hinata looked at him.

"…I know."

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"Your speed will increase."

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"…Yeah."

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"They may fall behind."

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Silence.

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Hinata looked at the court.

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"…Then I bring them with me."

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Mori nodded once.

Then left.

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The gym fell quiet again.

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Hinata stood alone.

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Ball in hand.

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Different now.

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Not just reacting.

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Not just adjusting.

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Leading.

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From the front.

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He tossed the ball one more time.

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Moved.

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Set.

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Clean.

Sharp.

Unreadable.

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"…Next time…"

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His eyes sharpened.

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"…They won't read me."

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Because now—

The limit wasn't fixed anymore.

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It was moving.

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And he was pushing it forward.

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Alone—

For now.

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