VDAYLOCKERS — for @napsbeforesleep
Mar. 20th, 2021 01:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tookumadeHappy Valentine's, napsbeforesleep!! ^O^)/ I wrote a short Kuroo-centric... thing slgfkjd hope you'll like it!
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When Naoi-sensei had contacted Kuroo at the start of the school year, asking if he’d like to join the coaching staff at Nekoma High on a part-time basis, Kuroo had said yes without a second thought.
He wouldn’t be the only member of the coaching staff, and he could take on sessions after work and over the weekend. His hours could be flexible. He had helped teach—sort of—all sorts of middle blocker peers throughout his years playing volleyball. He’d be back helping his old high school, where he had so many great memories. He’d be able to say thanks this way. He’d be back in the volleyball scene in a closer capacity. It was a no-brainer.
“You were surprisingly quiet today, Kuroo,” Nekomata-sensei says.
“Was I?”
“Mm. I thought you’d be happier, helping Manabu and the team.”
“I am!” says Kuroo quickly. “I really am.” And then, after a long pause: “It’s just…”
It’s a warm night at the start of May. The coaching staff had gotten together for drinks and dinner at the end of the Golden Week training camp they’d just finished up with the team, and Nekomata-sensei, now happily retired, though he occasionally drops by to sit in on a training session, had joined them for old times’ sake. After Naoi and the other coaches had split off for the night, Kuroo walks Nekomata-sensei back to the train station, both strolling leisurely.
Talking to Nekomata-sensei wasn’t quite the same as talking to the other coaches.
“It’s just… different, being a coach and being a player,” says Kuroo. “I know I’m just stating the obvious but… back when I was playing, it wasn’t something I thought about too much. I wasn’t coaching, I just did my best and pushed myself and my teammates, and I thought that was enough. But, now… it feels different. The thought of preparing for tournaments but only being able to watch from the sidelines instead of actively doing something as a player—I have to keep reminding myself that I can’t jump into their games for them! And I can’t help but think: what if I teach the wrong techniques and strategies and mess everything up for these kids?”
“You won’t,” says Nekomata-sensei simply. Kuroo eyes him with a curious little smile.
“How do you know?”
“Because I coached you, didn’t I?”
This area of Nerima City they’re walking in is quiet. It’s late. They occasionally pass people going for a run, or others walking their dogs, or people in business suits heading home after late work hours, and maybe on another night, Kuroo would be just like them after late meetings or dinners with his Japan Volleyball Association higher-ups and colleagues…
But, tonight—right now—Kuroo feels younger again. It feels like he’s back at Nekoma High, a player talking with his coaches, receiving patient words and advice whenever he feels stuck.
“A volleyball game is not a script,” says Nekomata-sensei. “Players—and coaches—need to learn from their mistakes, and that means occasionally losing, too. A coach cannot hold their players’ hands. Neither Manabu nor I could tell you exactly what to do on the courts. That’s not what coaching is. That’s not what volleyball is. So, be patient with yourself. I coached you for three years; I know you’ll be just fine.”
They reach the station. They’re taking different train routes from here, but Kuroo is tempted to accompany Nekomata-sensei further.
“I still have so much to learn from you,” Kuroo says in a mutter more than anything.
“I’m just a phone call away,” Nekomata-sensei replies. His smile widens. “Everyone tells me I’m retired, but I’ll take any excuse to be close to volleyball again. Once you get bitten by that bug, it takes the world to tear you away from it. You know that feeling too, don’t you?”
And Kuroo smiles back. “I do.”
Tomorrow, he’ll be back to work with the JVA again. The day after, he resumes coaching with Nekoma’s volleyball club. The Interhigh tournament will be upon them faster than they can blink, and they have a lot of work to do. Day by day, Kuroo is working hard at lowering the volleyball nets wherever he can.
He’ll be just fine.
————————————————————
When Naoi-sensei had contacted Kuroo at the start of the school year, asking if he’d like to join the coaching staff at Nekoma High on a part-time basis, Kuroo had said yes without a second thought.
He wouldn’t be the only member of the coaching staff, and he could take on sessions after work and over the weekend. His hours could be flexible. He had helped teach—sort of—all sorts of middle blocker peers throughout his years playing volleyball. He’d be back helping his old high school, where he had so many great memories. He’d be able to say thanks this way. He’d be back in the volleyball scene in a closer capacity. It was a no-brainer.
“You were surprisingly quiet today, Kuroo,” Nekomata-sensei says.
“Was I?”
“Mm. I thought you’d be happier, helping Manabu and the team.”
“I am!” says Kuroo quickly. “I really am.” And then, after a long pause: “It’s just…”
It’s a warm night at the start of May. The coaching staff had gotten together for drinks and dinner at the end of the Golden Week training camp they’d just finished up with the team, and Nekomata-sensei, now happily retired, though he occasionally drops by to sit in on a training session, had joined them for old times’ sake. After Naoi and the other coaches had split off for the night, Kuroo walks Nekomata-sensei back to the train station, both strolling leisurely.
Talking to Nekomata-sensei wasn’t quite the same as talking to the other coaches.
“It’s just… different, being a coach and being a player,” says Kuroo. “I know I’m just stating the obvious but… back when I was playing, it wasn’t something I thought about too much. I wasn’t coaching, I just did my best and pushed myself and my teammates, and I thought that was enough. But, now… it feels different. The thought of preparing for tournaments but only being able to watch from the sidelines instead of actively doing something as a player—I have to keep reminding myself that I can’t jump into their games for them! And I can’t help but think: what if I teach the wrong techniques and strategies and mess everything up for these kids?”
“You won’t,” says Nekomata-sensei simply. Kuroo eyes him with a curious little smile.
“How do you know?”
“Because I coached you, didn’t I?”
This area of Nerima City they’re walking in is quiet. It’s late. They occasionally pass people going for a run, or others walking their dogs, or people in business suits heading home after late work hours, and maybe on another night, Kuroo would be just like them after late meetings or dinners with his Japan Volleyball Association higher-ups and colleagues…
But, tonight—right now—Kuroo feels younger again. It feels like he’s back at Nekoma High, a player talking with his coaches, receiving patient words and advice whenever he feels stuck.
“A volleyball game is not a script,” says Nekomata-sensei. “Players—and coaches—need to learn from their mistakes, and that means occasionally losing, too. A coach cannot hold their players’ hands. Neither Manabu nor I could tell you exactly what to do on the courts. That’s not what coaching is. That’s not what volleyball is. So, be patient with yourself. I coached you for three years; I know you’ll be just fine.”
They reach the station. They’re taking different train routes from here, but Kuroo is tempted to accompany Nekomata-sensei further.
“I still have so much to learn from you,” Kuroo says in a mutter more than anything.
“I’m just a phone call away,” Nekomata-sensei replies. His smile widens. “Everyone tells me I’m retired, but I’ll take any excuse to be close to volleyball again. Once you get bitten by that bug, it takes the world to tear you away from it. You know that feeling too, don’t you?”
And Kuroo smiles back. “I do.”
Tomorrow, he’ll be back to work with the JVA again. The day after, he resumes coaching with Nekoma’s volleyball club. The Interhigh tournament will be upon them faster than they can blink, and they have a lot of work to do. Day by day, Kuroo is working hard at lowering the volleyball nets wherever he can.
He’ll be just fine.
