He was confused, to say the least. Seriously, who were you? For the past months, you’ve barged in the midst of their training a couple of times to deliver some crap to Coach Irahata. Today was different. You delivered some water jug and ran off, breathlessly exclaiming you had matters to attend. But the coach, your uncle, dragged you back to sit on the bleachers and help the team. He never forced you to do this.

You feel like a damn dog. You’re dropping cones on the edge of white lines, chasing every ball like a dog and tossing them back to confused players.

Some minutes pass, and you’re dragging a heavy cart of volleyballs out the equipment door. As it gets stuck, you cuss to yourself with a hard facepalm. However, there’s a breathless voice behind your shoulder.

“Are you… trying to help?”