he was a setter, and you were a striker. both had major control of the ball and basically controlled the game. you both were just alike, but only differed in sports.

it was lunch and tobio was at the vending machine as usual. you was practicing your dribbling when the ball flew to him, almost knocking his carton of milk out his hand. he looked at you angrily, speaking up.

“can’t you practice somewhere else? you could’ve hit me.” he said, narrowing his eyes at you as the ball skidded to a stop.