Chapter 3.
Better Late Than Never

After Urayama has finished his morning run and Oyama has fed his cat, the two leave their neighboring apartments together, eating granola and talking as they walk to the train station. Even with the styled cowlick on the top of his head, Urayama doesn't reach Oyama's shoulder. The train is packed this time of day and Oyama stands to protect Urayama from perverts, who are much more afraid of the boy with shoulder length hair than the boy who looks like a girl from nearly every angle. Urayama seems unaffected by the situation and hums happily to a song stuck in his head, digging through Oyama's bag for a container of gummy bears. Urayama always says Oyama is like a walking, talking vending machine when it comes to candy.

At school, Urayama heads back to the tennis courts with a skip in his step, looking at the buds on the trees, then the grounds keeper cutting the grass near the track in the distance, and finally to the figures lingering outside of the locker room. Urayama frowns, though it looks more like a pout on his child-like face, and quickens his pace to find Nishimura and Yamauchi sitting with their backs to the wall of the locker room. Why are they outside in their school uniforms?

"Good morning, Urayama-kun," Yamauchi greets. He smiles and jumps to his feet, brushing off the dust on his uniform, while Nishimura stands more slowly with less bubbly enthusiasm. "You too, Oyama-kun," Yamauchi adds when the taller boy joins them.

"Kirihara-buchou hasn't shown up yet?" Urayama asks.

Nishimura shakes his head. "No."

Urayama meets Nishimura's vacant eyes and cringes. He knows vice-captains shouldn't be afraid of their own teammates and Nishimura is really friendly if you talk to him, but his eyes kind of freaking him out. Just a little. Okay, a lot.

Urayama digs into his bag, finds his keychain with his house keys, various colored ornaments, and the spare key to the locker room that Takeda-sensei gave him. He unlocks the door.

"I wonder if Kirihara-buchou is okay," Urayama thinks out loud, looking at Oyama as they all shuffle into the locker room. Oyama shrugs, like he honestly couldn't care less. Urayama frown-pouts. "That's not a good response, Kenta."

When Urayama and Oyama pass by, Nishimura looks at Urayama and asks, "Urayama-senpai, will you help me with my serve?"

"Sure!" Urayama replies happily.

"While they're doing that, do you want to rally together, Oyama-kun?" Yamauchi asks. He smiles as if they're best friends. Oyama is silent for a moment. Eventually he nods.

Nishimura walks out of the locker room after changing, followed by Yamauchi. Urayama takes a moment longer to change, but Oyama waits and they walk out together. Oyama sighs, licks his fingers, and fixes the curl on top of Urayama's head.

"Ew! Kenta, it's fine," Urayama says, swatting his hand away. "Now I have spit in my hair. Yucky, yucky, yucky."

"It was crooked," Oyama explains. "You hate when it's crooked."

Urayama reaches up to mess with his hair as he walks onto the courts. Oyama smiles.

Crap, crap, crap! Kirihara thinks as he runs through the school gate, tripping but miraculously catching his footing by flailing, and continues around back to the tennis courts. I'm late!

This wouldn't have happened if he had just doubled checked his alarm to make sure it was set for AM, not PM. Why would his phone think he'd need an alarm at six PM? Phones should just have programs that realize some people are dumb asses and adjust accordingly.

He had been woken up by his mom banging on his door, saying he was late and was going to miss his train at this rate (he did; he had to wait for the next one), and a text from Marui asking if he wanted to grab burgers and catch up. Like the few other messages that Kirihara has gotten from Marui, he ignores it. He doesn't want to explain how his team hates him, he doesn't want to suppress the urge to ask if Yukimura has talked about him, and he doesn't want to see his senpai's disappointed face.

Marui is the only one to have texted him recently. Before school started, Yanagi did about the round robin to decide regulars. Before that, it was Sanada (about tennis), Yagyuu (about tennis shoes), Jackal (for a video game marathon), and finally Niou (who lost his screwdriver). Yukimura hasn't talked to him in nearly two months now. Kirihara doesn't like to think about what that means.

Hell, he's heard more from Shiraishi from Shitenhouji than he has from Yukimura. Kirihara ignores those texts too because the last time he hung out with Shiraishi, he ended up covered in paint. Or watermelon? Something sticky and pink. He still isn't sure how that happened. Zaizen says he has a video but Kirihara doesn't want to see that even if his life depends on it.

Kirihara comes to a gradual stop at the courts. He spots Urayama helping Nishimura with his serve. Nishimura can still barely toss right from the look of it, but Urayama is smiling and telling him not to worry about it. Oyama and Yamauchi are rallying on court B.

I thought that giant was a doubles player, Kirihara thinks, walking down onto the courts and dropping his bag onto a bench. But Oyama can keep up with Yamauchi. I guess he doesn't suck completely, then. Not that Yamauchi is great or anything.

And Yamauchi isn't taking it easier, either. It's only morning practice, but Yamauchi is running for balls that he could easily let slide and is trying harder than most people do at afternoon practice. Yamauchi is by no means an outstanding player. If anything, he's slightly above average, and Oyama is able to keep up with him with relative ease, but Yamauchi doesn't seem dissuaded by it at all.

Azuma and Hirai still aren't here, Kirihara thinks.

Matsui is working on a serve on court C away from the others, isolated. He looks more pissed than usual but Kirihara doesn't care enough to ask. As long as it doesn't affect his tennis.

Kirihara looks back at Nishimura and Urayama. Something about the situation triggers a memory from his first year shortly after he joined the club. Yukimura praised the power of his serve, but claimed its accuracy was deplorable and ordered Yanagi to help Kirihara every day after practice. Kirihara remembers hour-long lessons on how to control his serve, hitting strips of neon duct tape and swearing every time his Knuckle Serve went in the wrong direction. After long days, there were long nights under cheap stadium lights to help control his power, and on hot days, there were after practice snow balls at the shack near the train station.

Kirihara doesn't realize he's smiling until Yamauchi says, "Good morning, Buchou! You look happy today."

Kirihara blushes like a tomato, feeling stupid for getting happy at such a stupid memory with no real significance, and decides to imitate Yanagi and help Nishimura. He rolls up the sleeves of his school uniform and walks over to where Nishimura and Urayama are practicing.

"B-Buchou!" Urayama squeaks when he spots his captain.

"Good morning, Kirihara-buchou," Nishimura says robotically. He tosses the ball up, swings his racket, and misses completely.

"You're doing it wrong," Kirihara says.

Kirihara takes a ball from the box near Nishimura's feet. He holds out his other hand, waggling his fingers at Nishimura, who understand and gives him his racket.

"Don't hold the ball in your palm." Kirihara holds the ball in his fingers to show him. "When you toss, try not to put spin on it. Spins can give you some kick ass serves, but it makes the ball harder to control on the toss. Just open your hand when you bring it up."

Kirihara tosses the ball up a few inches, demonstrating. He stands at the baseline and remembers having this exact same conversation with Yanagi, or at least something pretty close to it. Yanagi used bigger words.

"Urayama has a fast serve, but it's accuracy is horrible," Kirihara says, seeing Urayama shuffle anxiously at the criticism, like he's expecting Kirihara to yell. "I don't know how the hell he got away with that last year, but you should just work on accuracy for now, Nishimura. There's no point in having a good serve if it goes out all the time."

Kirihara tosses the ball into the air, knees bent to jump, his tossing arm vertical. He jumps and swings his racket down. The racket strings make contact with the ball with a loud, hollow thwack and the ball flies across the court and bounces up into the chain link fence with enough force to make the metal rattle.

"It takes practice to get the serve right, but you won't be able to serve if you don't get the toss down. Got all that? Because I don't feel like repeating that because you weren't listening."

Nishimura nods.

Kirihara digs into his back pocket for his phone, swearing when he sees the time. "We need to get to class. Put the balls away. You can leave the nets up. I think second year gym is using the courts for class."

Nishimura does as he's told, going to collect the balls.

"T-Thanks, Buchou," Urayama says. "I didn't know how to help. I'm not good at explaining."

"Your serve sucks," Kirihara says, blunt but not loud or angry. Urayama stares at the ground. "Try putting tape down and aiming at that. That's what Yanagi-senpai did with me."

"Okay. Thank you!"

Kirihara sleeps in class even though he slept in past his usual alarm and Hajime, Jun, and Shin put bits of balled up paper in his hair. He only realizes the paper is there because Jun is taking pictures, Shin can't stop laughing into his hand, and Hajime finally tells him when girls begin to giggle and point at him. Kirihara blushes and ruffles his hair.

At afternoon practice, Kirihara is still half asleep, but he's coherent enough to instruct the regulars to wait in the locker room and to tell everyone else to work on serves and returns on the courts.

"Why aren't we with everyone else today?" Matsui grumbles. "Going to start splitting us apart like Yukimura did? Finally stopped pretending to care about the rest of the team?"

"Shut up, Matusi," Kirihara says. "We're going to the weight room with the girls' team."

"But they're girls. They're weaker than us."

Kirihara remembers saying the exact same thing last year about the girls' team and his opinion hasn't drastically changed since then. But he holds his tongue because that's what Yukimura would do—isn't it?

No, it isn't. Yukimura would correct Matsui and talk about differences in a politically correct way that does not offend either gender. Yanagi would offer statistics and Sanada would threaten laps for any sexist behavior ("He totally has a crush on the singles-two girl," Marui would say to Niou and Jackal).

The weight room is located on the top floor of the gym and is home to racks of weights and dirty blue mats used for cheerleading and wrestling. It's hot and the stench of stale sweat is overwhelming. There are a few treadmills and other pieces of cardio equipment on the far side of the gym; stacks of weights are pushed off to the side, some haphazardly placed. The girls have yet to arrive.

Kirihara peers out the window overlooking the tennis courts to make sure no one is goofing off. There are no regulars to maintain order, but there are a few who are trying to do what they were told. The others are goofing off, talking in the stands and lazing about. Kirihara thinks he spots Nishimura waiting in line to serve, but it's hard to tell at this distance.

Urayama walks up besides Kirihara. "Buchou."

"What?" Kirihara replies.

"Those two still aren't here."

Kirihara locks his jaw and forms tight fists at his sides. "I swear I'll kill them," he says, mind going red with anger. "They wouldn't do this to Yukimura-buchou. They think I'm an idiot."

"I don't know what to say to that, Kirihara-buchou…"

"Hey!" a female voice calls.

Kirihara turns along with the rest of the boys. The girls' team comes up in a mob, laughing and talking to one another, with Yamada in the front. She is shorter than every other girl on her team but significantly larger in other places; not with fat, but with muscle. Some of the girls are wearing the yellow polos and white skirts from their uniforms, while others are the wearing gym uniforms. Some are wearing spandex and others are not and Kirihara hopes a jerk like Matsui won't stare. Kirihara hopes he won't stare.

Kirihara swallows hard. This was a bad idea.

Yamada is wearing her usual barrettes that keep her short dark hair out of her freckled face. She looks at her regulars and they stop walking, lingering near the boys, and Yamada alone comes over to Kirihara.

"This place is awesome, right?" Yamada says. Kirihara nods, his anger disappearing now that he has something else to focus on—tennis practice. Yamada goes on, "So how do you want to do this?"

"Um," Kirihara says eloquently. Yamada laughs at him and Kirihara burns red.

"I think I have an idea," Urayama says.

"Go for it," Yamada says, smiling.

"I was thinking people could separate based on weight and we could rotate around the room while recording out maxes."

"I like that. It's safer and that way less loose weights will be moved around. What's your name?"

"Urayama Shiita. I'm a second year. I'm—"

"He's my vice-captain," Kirihara grumbles like a child.

"Awesome. Nice to meet you, Urayama-kun. You should talk to Genji on my team; she's my vice-captain. Speaking of teams" —Yamada looks to Kirihara—"I don't think your team is going to listen to me because teenage boys are jerks. So why don't you get this show on the road, Kirihara-kun? If any of my girls are too pretty and you get nervous, I've got your back."

"I won't get nervous."

Yamada grins. "Sure you won't."

Kirihara goes to address the crowd, followed by Yamada and Urayama. His regulars and Yamada's regulars stare at him. Great, he thinks, now I get to screw up in front of twice as many people.

"We agreed that it'd be best to split into groups based on weight class. Uh, groups of—" He stops, looking to Yamada for assistance.

"Groups of four should be fine," Yamada says.

"If you don't know how to use the equipment, ask someone who does. I know, and Yamada-chan knows, and a few others on the girls' team should know. Use spotters and if you drop a weight on someone's foot, you'll be running until you die."

Matsui gets a bitter look at that. More bitter than usual.

"Just pick a piece of equipment and get started," Kirihara finishes. He looks to Yamada to see if she has anything else to add.

Yamada puts her hands on her hips and says, "Alright, get going. I want maxes for squats, bench, dead lift, and power clean—bring it to your chest, not above your head. Well? Get to it!"

Her voice commands attention and her words demand action. Even Matsui grudgingly goes to join the forming group of boys and girls to discuss who is paired with whom.

"You're two people short," Yamada says to Kirihara, sounding confused. "Are they late?"

"They're a doubles pair. They keep skipping practice." Yamada nods slowly. "Of the four guys who showed, one is scared of me, his partner looks like he wants to kill me, one acts like we're best friends, and the other hates my guts."

"So that whole conversation about your team being good was a lie?"

"Kinda. Yeah."

"Gotcha." Yamada looks at him. Her eyes are firm, a captain's eyes, and her voice does not waver when she says, "They're never going to respect you if you don't respect yourself. Whatever's going on your brain, stop it. You're their captain. Stand your ground."

"But they don't listen to me. How can I stand my ground if no matter what I say, they won't listen? I'm trying to be like Yukimura-buchou, but it's not working."

"Yamada-buchou!" one of the girls says. "We need to know how much you weigh to sort out groups!"

"Okay!" Yamada replies. She looks at Kirihara one last time, and even her freckles seem disappointed with him, and she goes to join the teams.

On Wednesday, Kirihara is beyond sore. Weight training kicked his ass last year and nothing has changed since then. When he wakes up, he soaks in the bathtub instead of finishing his history homework. His older sister bangs on the bathroom door, telling him to hurry up so she can shower or she's going to be late for school. Kirihara stays five more minutes before his sister opens the door with the key. He screams like a girl and covers his crotch. It's his own fault, but under no circumstances does he want his older sister to see his penis.

He eats on his way to school, sitting on the train instead of standing because his legs are tight and ache. His arms feel like rubber and he wonders how he's going to do pushups at afternoon practice.

Thank gods I canceled morning practice.

He has trouble bending his knee to change his shoes at his cubby in the lobby, and he wants to scream when Jun slaps his arm as he says, "Good morning!" Instead of screaming, Kirihara rubs his arm and makes a pathetic noise. Jun laughs at his melodramatic pain.

"Screw you," Kirihara grumbles.

"Sorry, sorry," Jun laughs. "I'll buy you some juice at lunch, okay?"

"And chips."

"Ugh. I'm not made of money, Akaya."

"You hit me! Do you know how bad finding your max is, or how evil big pyramids are? Let me tell you how bad they are. Remember that time a girl kicked you in the—"

"You promised never to mention that again!"

"And I won't if you get me juice and chips."

"Fine. I'll get you juice and chips."

But as the day goes on, Kirihara thinks about what Yamada said yesterday in the weight room and he doesn't think he'll be staying in his classroom for lunch.

Stand your ground, Yamada's voice rings.

Stop thinking, Akaya. Do what Yukimura would do.

He decides that he's going to make Hirai and Azuma come to practice, or he's kicking them off the regulars. He skips out on lunch, tells Jun he can get him his snacks another time, and heads downstairs to the second year classrooms. He needs Urayama.

His vice-captain may be a weakling, but Yukimura must have made him his vice-captain for a reason, right? Besides, Urayama knows more about Hirai and Azuma than he does.

Somehow Kirihara ends up near the library, then the art studio, but he finds it on his third attempt. He stands in the doorway to class B and spots Urayama and Oyama near the windows. Urayama is sitting on top of Oyama's desk, which has been circled by desks occupied by both boys and girls. Urayama laughs with them, but Oyama looks quiet and stoic, though he looks less awkward than Sanada did in similar situations. Some of the girls try to talk to Oyama and he responds, but he doesn't start conversations with them. Urayama's bubbly laughter fills the room and everyone else is laughing with him.

This isn't the same Urayama who hides from him at practice, who has no backbone, who can barely stand straight up, is it?

Kirihara crosses the room and when Urayama sees him approaching, he goes silent. He jumps off the desk and meets him halfway in front of the teacher's desk, head a little lower and fingers twisting together nervously in front of him. Definitely the same Urayama.

"W-w-what is it, Buchou?" Urayama asks.

"Hirai and Azuma still haven't shown up for practice," Kirihara responds, shoving his hands into his pockets and trying to act like he isn't swallowing his pride. Yukimura never would have had to do this. "We're going to go find them. Do you know what class they're in?"

Urayama shakes his head.

"Great," Kirihara sighs. "Whatever. Let's go. There's only fifteen more minutes until lunch ends and I want to eat."

"How long did it take you to find this room?" Urayama asks, looking confused. Lunch is only half an hour.

"I got a little lost, okay?" It must come out harsher than he thought it did because Urayama quiets again.

Kirihara looks at Oyama and Urayama follows his gaze. The giant second year and their friends are staring at them. Kirihara has found himself on the receiving end of that predatory glare multiple times now and it still unsettles him. It's calm, and calculating, and downright scary. Everything about Oyama seems scary, even to a demon like Kirihara.

Urayama says, "Kenta, I'll be back in a bit. Don't let Godo steal my fruit cup."

"I wasn't going to!" a boy says, and a girl replies, "Liaaar. You were eyeing it since he pulled it out." They all laugh.

Oyama nods. Urayama smiles.

Kirihara leaves the room and heads for the stairs, and Urayama follows, having to walk faster to keep up with his shorter legs. They enter the stairwell.

"How tall are you?" Kirihara asks, looking down at the shorter boy.

"One hundred and fifty one centimeters."

"You're short."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize for that. How tall is your partner?"

"Kenta's around a hundred and eighty."

Kirihara knew Oyama was tall, but he didn't think the kid was that tall. Is Oyama really a second year? Is he really Japanese? Yamauchi is as tall as a lot of the guys on the volleyball team and he doesn't even come close to Oyama's height.

"Third year classrooms are on this floor, Kirihara-buchou," Urayama says, smiling and pointing to the door. Kirihara stops halfway up another set of stairs and looks back.

"I knew that." Kirihara turns red first and then exits onto the third floor. He hates how this school is planned. It makes no damn sense.

They stand just to the side of the open door of the first classroom and poke their heads in like they're in a cheesy comic book. Urayama is short enough to not bonk his head on the bottom of Kirihara's chin while they look for the two boys.

It occurs to Kirihara that he has no idea what Hirai or Azuma look like.

"Do you know what they look like?" Kirihara asks.

Urayama shakes his head.

Kirihara swears violently.

"Kirihara-buchou?" a voice from inside the room calls. Kirihara scans for its owner and sees Yamauchi smiling and waving at the front of the room. Like Urayama and Oyama had been, Yamauchi is surrounded by people. So he looks like a jock and he's popular. Kirihara remembers going to Marui and Niou's classroom for lunch and seeing the same thing.

"Yamauchi-senpai knows what they look like," Urayama says.

Kirihara moves out of hiding and goes to the front of the room where Yamauchi is sitting with his friends. Urayama returns Yamauchi's friendly smile.

"What are you doing here with Urayama-kun, Buchou?"

"Do you know what class Hirai and Azuma are in?" Kirihara asks.

"Right next door. I can point them out, if you want." Yamauchi doesn't sound like he's accusing Kirihara of not knowing what his regulars look like. Kirihara doesn't get this guy. Who's this honestly friendly?

"Thanks," Kirihara says.

Yamauchi keeps smiling, tells his friends he'll be back in time for science lab, and the three head out of the room. They stop at the next room and just like before, they line up from tallest to shortest and look into the room with just their heads like some stupid mystery cartoon. Urayama holds onto the doorframe, and his cowlick is still straight despite the angle of his head, and Kirihara has the overwhelming urge to laugh.

He laughs.

"Ack!" someone inside the room shouts. "Kirihara!"

The three look at each other, Kirihara still grinning for some damnable reason, and they straighten up to go inside. The boy who shouted covers his mouth with both hands and a boy next to him sinks down into his chair like he wants to disappear, but he does not look as concerned as the first boy. If anything, the second boy looks pissed off.

Kirihara has no idea who they are.

Yamauchi leans down and whispers into his ear, "Hirai is covering his mouth and Azuma is the one trying to disappear."

Kirihara nods and Yamauchi straightens back up.

"What do you want with us?" Azuma asks.

Azuma is average looking with straight dark brown hair and skin that is neither dark nor pale. His brown eyes are framed by heavy black-purple circles. He's skinny with no real muscle on him, his wrists so tiny Kirihara wonders how he picks up a textbook without it snapping. He looks bored and cynical, an exemplary example of a stereotypical, angst-filled teenage boy. Kirihara would never notice him in a crowd even if he was looking for him.

Hirai slowly uncovers his mouth. "Are you going to kill us?" he asks softly.

Hirai is the complete opposite of his partner. His skin is several shades lighter than everyone else in the room, so light it must be foreign, and his hair is fluffy and blond. His face and body are fuller than Azuma's, but not quite pudgy. His blue eyes keep nervously flicking between Azuma and Kirihara. Kirihara wonders if the kid drinks nothing but coffee; Hirai looks ready to jump out the window in anxious fear.

Unlike Urayama, Oyama, and Yamauchi, Hirai and Azuma are sitting by themselves.

"Come to practice or you're off the team," Kirihara says firmly.

"That's all?" Azuma replies blankly. "I thought you were going to threaten to kill us."

"Don't give him any ideas!" Hirai says quickly.

"You said it first," Azuma points out.

Hirai looks at Kirihara and laughs nervously. "We'll be there, promise! No need to kill anyone."

Azuma leans over to Hirai, looks him dead in the eye, and says, "He'll kill you if you're lying."

"Ah! Don't do that! I'm not lying. We'll go to practice, Buchou, I swear! So please don't kill us!"

Why are all of my regulars such freaks? Kirihara wonders. He currently chooses not to acknowledge that his team used to have a trickster who liked to wear makeup and wigs, a genius who could recite one hundred digits of pi, and a vice-captain who carried around a rock for training—and that's just the tip of the ice-berg.

"Just show up to practice," Kirihara mutters. He shoves his hands into his pockets and leaves with Yamauchi and Urayama. When they're in the hall, he says, "Thanks for the help, I guess."

"No problem, Kirihara-buchou," Yamauchi says with a smile. "If you need anything else, just let me know. I'm happy to help."

He jogs back to his class.

Kirihara glances at Urayama. "Your classroom is that way," Urayama says, pointing. "I think…"

Kirihara presses his lips together and nods, unsure of what else to say. He begins to walk one way and Urayama goes the other. Kirihara would have walked straight past his classroom if Jun hadn't shouted out his name.

Hirai and Azuma begin to show up practice after that. They don't seem happy about it, but it's something. Azuma collapses onto the ground after warm-ups and moans that he's going to die, and Hirai must be convinced his partner is telling the truth because he nearly starts to cry. Kirihara actually sees tears. Matsui calls them drama queens, but hangs out with them in the locker room and during practice. Kirihara wonders if the three of them are friends.

Even though Azuma bitches and Hirai is so overdramatic that Kirihara wants to punch him, they're still here. Kirihara has a full team of regulars.

Better late than never, Kirihara thinks.

That's exactly what Yamada says when their regulars meet in the weight room on Thursday afternoon. Practice with the girls isn't nearly as bad as Kirihara thought it would be. Some of them are a lot stronger than they look, especially Yamada, who can out bench all of the guys with exception of Kirihara, and even the "weak" girls are trying hard. Azuma and Urayama are so skinny and tiny that they're placed in groups with girls, and Oyama is so tall and heavy that only Kirihara and Yamada compare in weight. Kirihara wonders just how much Yamada has to work out to be so short and weight as much as someone as tall as Oyama.

Yamada is not like Yukimura, but she is at the same time. Yukimura is a natural leader with the kind of charisma that only the great possess, the kind belonging to those with the power to change history. Yamada is rougher around the edges, yet she is bold and commands attention. It seems to come naturally to her. Kirihara is not so lucky.

Kirihara and Yamada linger by the cardio equipment while their vice-captains run warm up stretches. Urayama looks so lost it actually makes Kirihara laugh and the girls' vice-captain is so pretty that even Matsui listens to her despite her gender. Azuma lazily stretches while Hirai says something about his shoulder coming out of its socket.

"At least they're here. Better late than never, right?" Yamada says.

"I guess," Kirihara responds.

"Did you stand your ground or blackmail them?" Yamada grins like Niou would—physically, at least. It lacks the underlying slyness and twisted mirth that Kirihara associates with Niou. The thought runs through his brain in a second and the female captain is still talking, "Because if you blackmailed them, you're kind of totally awesome."

"They saw me and Hirai was so scared of me that he screamed."

"Screamed?"

"It was more like a squeak. It was really funny, actually."

"I bet."

"Buchou, we're done stretching!" the female vice-captain shouts. Kirihara thinks her name is Genji. "These boys couldn't spread their legs if their lives depended on it."

Yamada laughs again. She collects herself quickly and turns to address the two teams. She speaks firmly and loudly, "Alright, everyone split into your groups. Since you know your maxes, I expect everyone to do a big pyramid for bench and squat. Set percentages are on the wall."

"I didn't know there was a paper for that," Kirihara says. "Last year, Yanagi-senpai told us them."

"There isn't a paper. I wrote them on the wall with a sharpie." Yamada shrugs and Kirihara wants to laugh until it hurts, but doesn't. "Hey," she says, grinning slightly, "I bet I can bench more than you. Our maxes were pretty close."

"Yeah, right," Kirihara replies. "I don't lose to anyone."

"Oh yeah? I doubt that."

"Loser cleans all the equipment."

"You're on, Kirihara-kun."

Kirihara can out bench her by five pounds, but she beats him at squats. They call it a tie and clean the equipment together.