---
The simplicity didn't last long.
At first—
It felt stable.
Controlled.
Even comfortable.
But comfort—
Was never the goal.
Hinata realized that by the third day.
---
"Again!"
The ball moved.
Takeda received.
Clean.
Hinata set.
Fukuda hit.
Point.
Repeat.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The same pattern.
The same execution.
The same result.
Stable.
Reliable.
Predictable.
---
Fukuda wiped sweat from his face.
"…We're getting sharper."
Hinata nodded.
"…Yeah."
Sato grinned.
"I like this better than chaos."
Takeda smiled slightly.
"…It's easier to follow…"
Nakamura nodded.
"…I can keep up…"
Mori observed quietly.
"Consistency improving."
Everything—
Looked right.
Until—
It didn't.
---
"Again!"
The next rally started.
Serve.
Takeda received.
But this time—
The ball drifted.
Not clean.
Not controlled.
Too far.
Hinata ran.
Reached.
Set—
Off.
Fukuda adjusted mid-air.
Hit—
Out.
Point lost.
Silence.
---
Fukuda landed.
"…That receive."
Takeda froze.
"…I—"
"Too far."
"…Sorry…"
Hinata stepped forward.
"…Reset."
But he saw it.
Clear.
Sharp.
That wasn't random.
That was a weakness.
---
They continued.
Again.
Again.
Again.
And it showed.
More.
Each time.
---
Takeda's receives—
Were inconsistent.
Some perfect.
Some off.
And every off ball—
Broke the system.
Even a little.
That was enough.
---
Then—
Sato's turn.
A clean set.
Perfect height.
Perfect timing.
He jumped.
Hit—
Out.
Again.
Silence.
Sato clenched his fists.
"…I had that."
Fukuda clicked his tongue.
"…You always say that."
"I did!"
"Then score it."
"I'm trying!"
"Not enough."
Hinata stepped in.
"…Stop."
But again—
He saw it.
Sato's problem wasn't effort.
It was control.
Under pressure—
He rushed.
Forced.
Missed.
---
Then—
Nakamura.
The ball came to him.
A simple receive.
He hesitated.
Just a moment.
Then moved.
Too late.
The ball dropped.
Point.
Silence.
Nakamura looked down.
"…I knew…"
"…But you didn't move," Fukuda said.
"…Yeah…"
Hinata watched.
Three players.
Three different weaknesses.
Now visible.
Now unavoidable.
---
Mori spoke.
"They are exposed."
No one argued.
Because it was true.
---
Hinata stepped back.
Thinking.
Fast.
Clear.
Before—
The system hid these gaps.
Now—
It showed everything.
Every flaw.
Every hesitation.
Every inconsistency.
And that—
Was the point.
---
He stepped forward.
"…We stop playing full rallies."
Fukuda frowned.
"…What?"
"We isolate."
Sato blinked.
"…Isolate?"
Hinata nodded.
"…One skill at a time."
Takeda adjusted his glasses.
"…You mean drills?"
"…Focused ones."
Mori nodded.
"Targeted correction."
---
Hinata pointed.
"Takeda."
Takeda froze.
"…Yes?"
"Receives."
Silence.
Takeda swallowed.
"…Okay."
"Only you."
"…Only me?"
"Yes."
Fukuda stepped back.
"…That's rough."
Hinata didn't react.
"…Go."
---
The drill started.
Serve after serve.
Takeda received.
Again.
Again.
Again.
No break.
No rotation.
Just him.
---
First few—
Good.
Clean.
Controlled.
Then—
A bad one.
Too high.
Then another.
Too far.
Then—
Late movement.
Miss.
The ball hit the floor.
Silence.
Takeda's breathing got heavier.
"…Again."
Hinata didn't soften it.
---
They continued.
Relentless.
No hiding.
No switching.
Just repetition.
---
Takeda adjusted.
Slowly.
Footwork tighter.
Eyes sharper.
Positioning earlier.
The bad receives—
Decreased.
Not gone.
But less.
---
After a while—
Hinata raised his hand.
"Stop."
Takeda dropped slightly.
Breathing hard.
"…Again?"
"No."
Silence.
"…You improved."
Takeda blinked.
"…Really?"
"Yes."
Simple.
Direct.
Enough.
---
Next—
"Sato."
Sato stepped forward.
"…Yeah."
"Spiking."
Fukuda smirked.
"…Good luck."
Sato rolled his shoulders.
"…I'll take it."
---
Hinata set.
Perfect.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Sato jumped.
Hit.
Out.
Again.
Out.
Again.
Frustration built.
Visible.
Immediate.
"…Tch."
Hinata didn't stop.
"Again."
---
Sato adjusted.
Tried to aim.
Tried to control.
Less power.
More direction.
Still—
Inconsistent.
---
Fukuda spoke.
"…You're forcing it."
Sato snapped back.
"I know!"
"Then fix it."
"I'm trying!"
Hinata cut in.
"…Focus."
Silence.
Sato exhaled.
"…Yeah."
---
Next set.
He jumped.
Slower.
More controlled.
Hit—
In.
Point.
Silence.
Then—
Hinata nodded.
"…Again."
---
Repetition.
Correction.
Adjustment.
Slowly—
The out hits became fewer.
Still there.
But less.
---
"Stop."
Sato dropped his shoulders.
"…That was hard."
Hinata nodded.
"…You improved."
Sato grinned slightly.
"…I felt it."
---
Next—
"Nakamura."
He stepped forward.
Quiet.
"…Yes."
"Reaction."
Simple.
Clear.
Hard.
---
Fast tosses.
Random direction.
Left.
Right.
Short.
Deep.
No warning.
Just movement.
---
First few—
Late.
Too late.
Missed.
Then—
Slightly better.
Then—
One clean save.
Then another.
---
"…Again."
Hinata didn't slow.
Didn't ease.
Didn't soften.
Because this—
Was necessary.
---
Nakamura's breathing got heavy.
Legs slower.
But—
He kept moving.
Earlier.
Faster.
Better.
---
"Stop."
Nakamura stayed still.
Breathing hard.
"…I moved."
Hinata nodded.
"…Yeah."
Simple.
But enough.
---
They regrouped.
All six again.
Standing.
Tired.
But aware.
---
Fukuda stretched.
"…We're full of holes."
Hinata nodded.
"…Yeah."
Sato added,
"But now we see them."
Takeda smiled slightly.
"…That helps…"
Nakamura whispered,
"…I know what to fix…"
Mori concluded,
"Exposure leads to correction."
---
Hinata looked at them.
Each one.
Different weaknesses.
Different struggles.
Same goal.
"…We fix everything."
Not at once.
Not fast.
But piece by piece.
---
He picked up the ball again.
"…Again."
Fukuda smirked.
"…Of course."
---
As practice continued—
It wasn't smooth.
It wasn't clean.
It wasn't impressive.
But it was—
Real.
Every mistake faced.
Every weakness targeted.
Every player pushed.
---
And for the first time—
There was no hiding.
Not behind chaos.
Not behind structure.
Just—
Skill.
And the effort to improve it.
---
Hinata stood at center court.
Looking at the net.
"…This is the base."
Mori stood beside him.
"Yes."
Hinata nodded.
"…We build from here."
Because now—
They weren't guessing anymore.
They knew.
Exactly where they stood.
And exactly what needed to be fixed.
---