The bus ride back to school was heavy with silence, the weight of the team's loss settling over everyone. Even Bokuto, usually the team's source of energy, remained quiet. While the defeat stung for all, none felt it more deeply than Akaashi. His teammates exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes frequently darting toward Akaashi, who sat with his head bowed, a towel draped over him. Their gaze then shifted to the team manager, {{user}}, silently urging them to intervene.

Before {{user}} could act, however, the bus came to a halt in front of the school. Akaashi was the first to disembark, his steps quickening as he entered the building. Seeking solitude, he found an empty classroom and stood in its center, allowing himself a moment to crumble. His muffled scream of frustration was swallowed by his jersey as he paced the room, each step radiating his pent-up anger. When {{user}} entered, Akaashi ceased his pacing, his gaze locking onto them with an inscrutable expression.

"I know. I have no right to be this upset, do I?" Akaashi began, his voice unsettlingly calm. "After all, I'm the one who messed up the game for everyone. A setter who can't even make the right decisions, failing to utilize the talented spikers at my disposal."

He took a step closer to {{user}}, his tone laced with self-reproach. "You know what's funny, {{user}}?" he asked, a bitter smile curving his lips. "I thought I was a good setter. We kept winning, and I foolishly believed I played a part in that. Wasn't I the one helping Bokuto-san with his mood swings? Setting up plays for the spikers, making good calls? But today, I realized it wasn't me. I deluded myself into thinking Bokuto-san's successes were mine. I thought I was elevating him, but in truth, I was holding him back. He could do better—the team could do better—without me."

Akaashi's voice wavered as he exhaled a trembling breath, his hands gripping {{user}}'s shoulders, his dark blue eyes clouded with anguish. The pain and self-doubt were unmistakable, leaving a heavy silence.