I never thought the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor could be so... hypnotic.
I'm sitting on the wooden bench, legs crossed, my sketchbook in my lap, and my phone mounted on a small tripod recording everything.
Three days ago, this gym looked like a haunted house. Now, it smells of muscle spray, sweat, and something I can only describe as "static electricity."
I look up from my sketch (an attempt to redesign the team logo, because the current one looks like a preschool doodle) and look around.
It's a mess. But it's a fun mess.
"No, Izumi! Don't push the ball!" Hinata yells from the other side of the net. "Receive it! Cushion it! You have basketball player hands, use them to caress, not to shoot!"
Izumi, the tall guy with brown hair, sighs and wipes his forehead.
"It's instinct, Hinata," he complains, though he's smiling. "If I see an orange ball, I want to shoot it, not pet it."
Next to him, Koji, the soccer guy, dives to save a ball that was hitting the floor. He does it with impressive agility, but ends up rolling and almost kicking the ball cart.
"Foul!" Koji shouts from the floor, laughing. "The floor made an illegal tackle on me!"
I chuckle softly.
It's fascinating. Izumi and Koji have their own clubs. They could be playing soccer or basketball peacefully. But they are here, in a dusty gym, bruising their elbows and learning a new sport from scratch.
Why?
I look at the center of the court.
Hinata Shoyo is small. Next to Izumi or Gojo, he looks like a child. But when he moves... God, when he moves he's giant.
He doesn't stop. He runs from side to side, correcting postures, tossing balls, cheering. He doesn't have a whistle, nor does he need one. His voice fills the entire space.
"Again! Don't give up! The ball hasn't touched the ground yet!"
It's contagious. That energy he has... it's not normal. It's like he has a nuclear reactor in his chest and extra fuel to burn. He makes the others want to run. He makes them want to sweat for him.
My gaze drifts to the net.
Wakana Gojo is there.
My heart does a silly little skip, like always when I think about my Shizuku-tan outfit. But now it's different.
Gojo is soaked in sweat. His bangs are sticking to his forehead. He's breathing hard. Usually, at school, Gojo walks hunched over, trying to be invisible, as if apologizing for taking up space.
But not here.
"Arms up, Gojo!" Hinata orders, spiking a ball softly toward him. "Don't shrink! You are a wall! Occupy your space!"
And Gojo, my shy doll craftsman, obeys. He stretches. He lifts those long arms. He jumps.
His hands—those hands that fixed my sewing disaster with such delicacy—now look strong, firm against the net. The ball bounces off his palms and falls into Hinata's court.
"YES!" Hinata roars, raising his fist. "That's a 'Kill Block'! Well done, Gojo!"
Gojo lands and looks at his hands, surprised. And then, I see something I've never seen in class: he smiles. A small smile, of pure satisfaction.
I feel a shiver. It's not cold. It's excitement.
Hinata is keeping his end of the bargain. He's not just training a player; he's teaching Gojo to be proud of his height and his hands.
I look down at my notebook.
There, among doodles of flowers and notes on fabrics, I have the first sketches of the new uniforms.
At first, I only agreed to be manager to get my cosplay outfit. I thought it would be a business exchange: I do paperwork, they sew my dress.
But watching this... watching Koji roll on the floor, Izumi trying to be gentle, Gojo being brave... and Hinata shining in the center of it all like a little orange sun...
I can't give them just any uniform.
I cross out the design I had (something generic with stripes).
No, I think. Hinata said "Empire." He said he wanted to fly.
I turn the page and start again. The pencil moves fast.
Black. It has to be black. Elegant, intimidating. And orange. Bright orange for the details, like the hair of that little energy demon. I want them to look like crows. I want that when they walk onto the court, the other teams think: "Oh, crap, these guys are serious."
"Two-minute break!" Hinata announces, throwing himself dramatically onto the floor, though I know he could go for two more hours.
The boys collapse. It's my cue.
I put down the notebook, grab the towels and water bottles I prepared earlier (yes, I'm a good manager when I try), and walk over.
"Good job, guys," I say, handing out the bottles.
"Thanks, Kitagawa-san," Gojo pants, accepting the towel without looking me in the eye, but with red ears. How cute.
"Thanks, Manager!" Izumi and Koji say in unison.
I walk over to Hinata. He's sitting with his legs stretched out, drinking water like it's fuel. He looks at me and smiles.
"How does it look, Manager? Do we look like a team or a circus?"
"You look like a circus," I say honestly, and he laughs. "But a circus with a lot of potential. Gojo-kun is improving."
"I know," Hinata looks at Gojo with pride. "He has natural talent. He just needs to believe he's good."
I sit next to him, not caring about the dirty floor (well, I care a little, but the moment is worth it).
"Hey, Emperor," I tell him, using the nickname I gave him as a joke but which seems more real every time. "I've been thinking about the uniforms."
"Oh yeah? Did you burn the green ones yet?"
"Mentally, yes." I open my notebook and show him the new quick sketch. "I was thinking black. With orange and white details. Something that looks... aerodynamic. Like feathers."
Hinata looks at the drawing. His eyes go wide.
"Black..." he murmurs. He imagines himself and the boys dressed like that. "Like the Karasuno crows... but our style."
He looks at me and his smile changes. It's no longer the "training" smile. It's a smile of absolute complicity.
"I love it. Do it, Marin. Make us look dangerous."
I close the notebook with a satisfied clack.
"Leave it to me. You handle teaching them not to kick the ball, and I'll handle making them look like rock stars when they win."
Hinata jumps up and claps.
"Right! Break's over! Izumi, let's practice your butterfingers! Koji, receptions! Gojo, to the net!"
I watch them run back to their positions.
This is going to be fun. Really fun.