References to: 8, 31, 35

Malcolm — Volleyball

Malcolm (11) - Travis (12) - Connor (11)

Summer 2005

"Malcolm," Annabeth Chase announces out of the blue after kicking open their cabin door and stomping over to Connor Stoll. Without looking at him — too engrossed in a toe to toe, chest to chest staring contest with Connor — Annabeth states, "Volleyball. You're my partner in this round of 2v2."

Connor smirks, his grin cocky and overconfident, and he tosses his pranking sketchbook over his shoulder toward his bed. "That still won't be enough to beat me and Travis, Anniebeth."

"You're wrong," Annabeth huffs with an indignant scowl. When she turns to him, her gray eyes are a storm, intense and electrifying. "I know we'll win. With you, we'll be enough. Trust me."

"Okay," Malcolm says, putting down his knitting project and following her to their outdoor court.

Out of everybody at camp, he likes Annabeth and Beckendorf the best. They're the most practical and the most reasonable campers, the smartest and most dependable campers. To be picked as their partner? Why would he say no?

"I'll do most of the setting," Annabeth tells him, not taking her eyes away from Travis stretching lazily and Connor spinning the ball in between his hands on the other side of the net.

"Alright." Malcolm lowers himself into a ready stance with open arms.

Annabeth glances at him over her shoulder with a hint of a smile, sure and confident. "Don't worry. We're not losing. I have a plan."

Summer 2006

Life is unfair.

Annabeth might say otherwise but if life was fair, then Hermes would have been a god of a specific sport rather than all of them.

"Being the god of athletes doesn't mean all of Hermes's children are good at sports. And not all sports require you to be athletic," Annabeth chides. Which is true. But most of the sports they play here at camp do need you to be athletic and Travis and Connor clearly inherited the athleticism from their dad.

Connor, with his eyes that seem to see into the future with how much he blocks their spikes. Travis, with his abnormal speed and reflexes always reaching the ball no matter where it goes.

Connor, Annabeth can get around with.

Travis, they can't.

Not when Travis never let the ball touch the court.

It's already hard enough when they play a full team against Luke, Chris, and the Stoll brothers. The measly points they manage to score are solely because Luke and Chris got in Travis's way for the ball. But a 2v2 match, him and Annabeth against the infamous duo of Hermes Cabin who understand each other's movements without a single word being uttered? Travis and Connor are unbeatable.

"Don't say that. Nobody is unbeatable," Annabeth tells him all the time when they do volleyball drills, passing the ball back and forth on their forearms. She huffs it actually. With how often she spiels it, Annabeth is probably sick of repeating herself. But that doesn't change the fact they always lose against them.

"We just need a bit of strategy," Annabeth says, never mind the fact that they've been planning together for all of last year now.

"They lack any real power. Their spikes are nothing," Annabeth comforts him, ignoring how they still steal points and get ahead even with their mediocre spikes. Plus he and Annabeth can only keep the ball alive for so long before the inevitable exhaustion sets in.

"We can win," Annabeth says, confident and sure and determined even as Silena their referee blows a whistle announcing again their now uncountable defeat.

Annabeth is delusional.

But that wild hope, that blatant disregard for the impossible, her tenacity, her vision — they're what makes her the best amongst all of them.

So he does as Annabeth asks and believes in her.

Even when they lose, over and over, none of it seems to deter Annabeth in the slightest. It spurs her further and gives her new ideas, gives her drive when it would have demotivated anyone else.

Malcolm doesn't quite understand it. It's just volleyball, not something crucial to their survival like sword fighting. But maybe it's just the principle of winning that's so important. Maybe that's why Annabeth is Athena's chosen favorite.

"Remember. Volleyball is a team sport. Travis can only touch the ball once and only for a moment. Connor is the weak link. The ball just has to bounce from Travis in a way that Connor can't reach."

"It always seems to go towards Connor though," Malcolm notes as he sits in Athena's Cabin in front of the TV. He hits rewind then replay on the tape, pointing at one of the most ridiculous receives he has seen yet — a full-on sprint towards the ball in the sidelines and a kick to send it flying backward towards the court. It should be uncoordinated, but it somehow manages to soar directly to Connor's waiting fingers.

Annabeth stares at the screen for a moment and chews on her pencil eraser. She scribbles an X over a crudely drawn sketch and flips to the next page in her notebook. "Yeah. I see that now. Travis may be great at receiving, but he's still awful at everything else. He can barely spike. He can do the bare minimum of a serve. And he has poor timing when it comes to blocking." Annabeth pauses the tape and taps the screen where Annabeth manages to score one of the few points they have because Travis mistimed his jump. "See? Always a second too early or too late."

Malcolm hits play again and they watch Connor do a floating ball jump that Malcolm couldn't save. "But Connor is good at serving, spiking, and blocking. Whatever Travis lacks, Connors does it better. Plus he receives pretty well too when he has the time to react to it."

Annabeth stares at the screen for a moment longer, chewing her cheek. She fast-forwards then rewinds before fast-forwarding through the entire recording, eyes scrubbing the screen for any weaknesses, any faults before reluctantly saying, "Volleyball is still a team sport and I know we're a stronger duo."

The sentiment is nice and all. Annabeth has a great future as a motivational speaker. But her faith in him is unfounded and unsupported.

They still lose every single match and close the summer without a single win much to Connor's delight and Annabeth's dismay.

There are other sports where Annabeth is better, like soccer. Volleyball just happens to be one that Connor and Travis are better at but it's the principle, the fundamental truth, that Athena's Cabin are the victors. There can be no other philosophy.

(Plus it's not like Connor is any better. Annabeth is far, far, far better at soccer than Connor is, but that doesn't stop Connor from practicing with his brother and challenging Annabeth every other day. Being yearrounders gives them all the time in the world after all.)

Malcolm wouldn't say he's exactly looking forward to spending the rest of the year theorizing with Annabeth again (the constant losing is kind of getting to him) but he expects it and readies himself.

But Annabeth's bed is clean and lacking her usual comforter, the one that Luke bought for her. Her nightstand and chest box are empty. She has a suitcase beside her. Adding it all together, it should be fairly obvious Annabeth is leaving, but he still asks anyway.

"You're not staying?"

"No." Annabeth grimaces and twirls the ring on her camp necklace between her fingers. "I'm… going to give them a chance."

Malcolm's mouth opens and closes without a word uttered. What can he say? He heard so many things about Frederick Chase. So many awful things. So many cruel things. He wouldn't have given his parents a chance. But that's just another difference between him and Annabeth.

Annabeth smiles tightly and rests a hand on his shoulder.

"In the meantime, keep that head of yours whirring and I'll do the same. Next summer, I want to hear all the ideas. We'll finally beat them."

He nods dutifully and waves her goodbye as she heads towards Half Blood Hill where her family waits.

Easier said than done when 90% of the camp is gone and the ones remaining are non-suitable or unwilling to be his volleyball partner.

Lee holds back, stating it feels wrong to spike with his full strength against people half his age. (But Lee can't math. They're just six or so years younger than him and they're demigods. They're not fragile little kids, but whatever.)

Beckendorf thinks it's more fun to tinker in his shed and create an automaton to play the game for him. He's still working on the sensors and the joints but once he does it's apparently "over for Travis and Connor."

Silena doesn't like volleyball.

And Clarisse doesn't like Connor after he talked badly about Chris.

The new yearrounder Will Solace has the spirit and the enthusiasm but zero power behind his serves and spikes. He works great as a middle blocker though.

Katie Gardner who stayed for a couple of weeks in February is a great server, but begins to fumble the balls after too many taunts and jeers from Travis and Connor. Then before he knows it, Katie stops playing volleyball and starts playing dodgeball with her as the only thrower and Travis and Connor the only targets and the camp as the entire field.

He expects nothing much from Miranda Gardiner, another new yearrounder, either. The first few weeks, she's as closed off as can be and refuses to participate in any of their training exercises. It's not until after the incident with the bombing that Miranda opens up to them.

Nearly dying together does that, Malcolm supposes. It also makes for a great conversation starter.

And Miranda is surprisingly decent at volleyball.

She's fast. She's agile. She's level-headed. She doesn't get too heated. She's an unremarkable hitter, but she reads her opponent the same like how Annabeth does, analyzes them, and responds accordingly.

("It's just like battling tekehines," Miranda chirps happily. Malcolm doesn't exactly see how fighting sea demons is like playing volleyball but he's not questioning her.)

They still lose as a duo, but Miranda seems to know where the ball will go. Whether it be a cut shot or a back row attack or a spike. She doesn't always reach it, but the fact she knows what's coming is a feat in itself. Much more than what Malcolm can do.

"How do I do it? I just watch their feet. And their core," Miranda tells him, stomping her bare foot on the sand and patting her abdomen. "Watch how Travis and Connor move and you'll see what I mean. We're still humans after all. Once our body is committed, it's hard to shift the momentum and when you do, then it becomes really obvious what the intent is."

As good as Miranda is, she's nowhere near as competitive as Annabeth is and takes their losses with an easygoing grin.

"It's just volleyball. It's supposed to be fun," Miranda tells him as she rolls a volleyball back and forth under her foot before kicking it up and balancing it on her head. "If I'm going to get serious about something, I'd rather it be for something useful like archery or taekwondo."

He wonders if he should be doing the same.

Summer 2007

"Malcolm," Annabeth hisses to him in the dead of night.

It's been a crazy couple of weeks. What with the whole fiasco of the tree being poisoned and monsters slipping through their barrier and the quest to find the fleece and Thalia being ejected from the tree as a 15-year-old girl. There hasn't been a time for him and Annabeth to talk one-on-one.

But to initiate the talk when he's sleeping?

When it's — he squints at the nightstand and flops back to his pillow — 2 in the morning?!

He must be dreaming. No way Annabeth would ever sneak out of her cabin and into Hermes Cabin. So he gets himself comfortable in his bed and turns his back on Dream-Annabeth.

"Malcolm, quick. Come with me. We need to discuss all the ideas we came up with," Annabeth whispers as she tiptoes around the bed so they're face-to-face again.

"What are you even talking about?" he groans and flips back around, pulling his blankets over his face. The quiet snoring of his cabinmates is like a slap to the face. He can practically hear their mocking voices. 'Look at me! I'm asleep and you're not. Haha! You wish you were me.'

Or maybe that's just his sleep-addled mind protesting it's rude awakening.

"Volleyball, of course! Thalia will be watching. I refuse to lose in front of her," Annabeth hisses even more and starts pushing him out of bed, blanket and all. "Come on. Get up."

And he relents, letting himself be dragged outside by the hand. He tucks his blanket around his shoulders, nearly nodding off as Annabeth leads him to the Arts and Crafts center. He's sure at one point he actually dozes off. He's also sure he sees Travis and Connor staring as Annabeth kidnaps him from the cabin. His counselors just shrug in unison and leave him be, falling back asleep in their comfy beds.

They sure are great friends.

She breaks into the closed facility easily and sits him down at one of the chairs as she wheels the whiteboard and 5 different colored dry-erase markers over to him.

"Alright," Annabeth says at her normal volume, no longer whispering, and Malcolm jumps a little. "I'll start with what I came up with."

He yawns and rubs his eyes as he tries to wake up enough to pay attention.

Annabeth tells him her ideas and he tells her all he learns from Miranda. A little rough sketch later and they have five new tactics and strategies to go with their already plentiful stack of game plans.

All their planning amounted to nothing in the end.

Travis and Connor still beat them.

Thankfully Thalia's attention was on Percy when Team Stoll got their final point. Percy had suspiciously come out of nowhere, yelling something about blue cookies consuming his cabin whole.

"Did you bribe Percy to distract Thalia in case we're about to lose?" Malcolm asks as Percy shakes Thalia by the shoulders, even forcibly turning her attention back to him when Thalia brushes Percy aside to look back at the court.

Annabeth clenches her teeth as Travis and Connor celebrate on the other side of the net. She swipes the ball up from the floor angrily and hurls it at Connor's head. Travis pulls Connor away just in time and they blow raspberries at her before running off to who knows where. One of them kicks the volleyball back over to them and to add insult to injury, it lands and rolls to a stop perfectly at Annabeth's feet.

"Yeah. Percy was the backup plan in case we weren't going to win. I can't believe I had to use him. I thought for sure this year…" Annabeth grinds her teeth in frustration. Then she sighs, the tension leaving her body, and rests her hands on her hip. "Well, back to the drawing board, I guess. Tomorrow, Malcolm, meet me at my cabin at 1 pm sharp to review the match."

"Wouldn't it be better—" Malcolm pauses and wonders if he should say it. But Annabeth is staring at him quizzically and he lets go of his inhibition. "Wouldn't it be better if Percy is your volleyball partner? He's a better spiker than I am. His reflexes are better too. You might actually have a chance of winning with Percy."

Plus Percy was her partner for the chariot race too. They've already proven they're a great team.

Annabeth snorts. "Why would I? You know Travis's and Connor's tricks far better than Seaweed Brain ever will. And you pick up on my on-the-fly tactics without me needing to brief you beforehand. That's invaluable, you know."

Are you sure? I'm sure Percy can do the same. He learns insanely fast. Did you see how fast he picked up sword-fighting?

Malcolm watches Percy give up on distracting Thalia, signaling to Annabeth via a bird's caw that he has done all that he can. When Thalia sees that the match is over, she turns back to Percy and yells at him, chasing after Percy through the fields.

"Besides." Annabeth picks the volleyball up and twirls it in her hand, smiling at him with undeserved trust. "This is our thing. We're in this together. I'm not giving up until we win."

Annabeth leaves again for the year. This time to an all-girls boarding school with Thalia.

Guess it didn't work out at home.

He rotates through volleyball partners, the same as last year.

Silena still doesn't like volleyball. Clarisse is even angrier with Connor plus she's leaving soon for a mission from Chiron so she doesn't have time. Beckendorf is too busy to play. Will never got better at the game. Lee doesn't visit as much as he does anymore, schoolwork and missions and other adult stuff.

Miranda still won't get serious about it. But she's a good player and improves steadily.

Sherman Yang, the new yearrounder who picked a fight with Michael Yew on his first day, isn't too bad either. He's actually surprisingly good despite his hot-headed and gruff personality. A good spiker. A good blocker. A horrible server even though Malcolm tries to help the best he can, offering pointers that Sherman surprisingly takes. Though it doesn't matter in the end. Sherman still can't serve. But he's good with positioning in a way that Miranda and himself aren't. The way Sherman moves, the way he tricks and lures Travis or Connor to a specific spot so his hit can be met with the least defenders possible, Malcolm never thought Sherman had it in him.

Not that it did much. Travis still moves fast enough to receive the ball no matter where it goes, killing all the momentum and sending it in the air in a way that Connor can easily work with.

"There's always a way," Sherman mutters under his breath, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he stares at Travis and Connor with an intensity that is only matched by Annabeth's, a drive and determination only equal to Annabeth's, a competitiveness that nearly rivals Annabeth's.

"Always a way."

Sherman is good, but it's still not enough.

It might never be enough if Malcolm is honest.

Even with another new yearrounder, Nico di Angelo does not have any remarkable ability in volleyball. Then again Nico is 10. It can't be helped that he's nowhere near as strong as Sherman or as agile as Travis. He tries his best though and that's the most Malcolm can ask of him.

"I'm turning 11 next month!" Nico argues, glaring at Sherman who blinks in surprise at the sudden outburst before scowling, "I'm not a kid so stop treating me like one!"

"If I don't hold back on my spikes and it just happens to hit you, you'll be a pile of goo on the ground, you little twerp!" Sherman snaps, "Have you seen yourself? You're like a flimsy twig!"

"Besides you're still healing from your wound," Malcolm notes, nodding at the accidental cut from training earlier. "If it gets infected then you'll have to amputate that limb. Or even worse, you'll die from sepsis and your sister will murder us all for not protecting you. All hunters are blessed with extraordinary aim, you know."

Case in point, they all surreptitiously glance at Travis's thigh wound courtesy of Phoebe the hunter. It's basically healed but Travis is on house arrest for a week, enforced by Will, just in case.

It had taken all of them to convince Connor not to bomb Artemis's cabin to smithereens. So instead he just plants shaving cream in their beds and their nightstands and their ceiling fan and the shower pumps and basically everything. In return, the hunters set fire to Connor's shirts. And by proxy theirs because they all wear the same orange shirt more or less.

("You started it by giving Phoebe the shirt laced with the centaur blood, idiot!" Sherman hisses.

"Because she shot arrows at us first during Capture the Flag!" Connor says back just as combatively and then less combatively, he mumbles, "Plus, Aphrodite says if we do this then Percy can go on the quest. And I trust Percy a lot more to rescue Annabeth than those hunters. It's not like we could have said no to a goddess either. But Phoebe started it first! And I'm going to end it.")

It's a feud Malcolm intends to stay out of.

"It'll probably only take Bianca a single shot for each of us," Malcolm continues to tell Nico, "Or maybe Bianca will sic their pack of wolves on us and have them rip us to shreds. Either way, I don't think it's going to be a quick death so I'd rather not get on her bad side."

"What Malcolm is trying to say," Travis interjects on the bench sitting beside Nico after the kid stutters and turns a pastry shade of white. "Is that when you're hurt or sick, you need to take it easy like I am. Besides, volleyball isn't going anywhere. Once we're better, we'll all play together."

"... I don't know how to play," Nico admits quietly. I just want to be included, goes unsaid but they all hear it.

Connor smiles and ruffles Nico's hair. "It's okay. We'll teach you. We all started somewhere."

Summer 2008

It feels almost out of place asking Annabeth when Annabeth has always been the one to ask first. But summer is quickly coming to an end. Already campers with earlier start dates for school are gone. He still has no idea if Annabeth is staying the summer or going back to the all-girls boarding school or back to her dad's house. It seems too personal to ask.

But asking this feels less personal. And in a roundabout way, they can find out whether she's staying or leaving when they're playing.

So he steps up to Annabeth, sitting at her desk fidgeting with a pencil in one hand and an eraser in the other. She's glaring at the papers she's scribbling over listlessly.

Annabeth hasn't been the same lately. Not since her kidnapping. Not since she held the world in her arms. Not since the battle ended and they lost Lee and Castor and countless others. None of them are the same, to be honest.

He coughs to get her out of her thoughts and when their eyes meet, he holds up the volleyball in his hands.

"You down for a game with Travis and Connor?"

Annabeth stares at the volleyball for a moment, mouth opening and shutting. She slides out of her chair and Malcolm's hopes soar before it comes crashing like Icarus.

"Maybe after the war ends," Annabeth says, scrubbing a hand over her tired face. There are bags under her red eyes and Malcolm feels like a piece of shit for bothering her. "We shouldn't waste time playing around when there's better things to do."

"Okay then. After the war ends. Get some rest," Malcolm says, mouth dry, and walks out of the cabin, closing the door quietly behind him.

And immediately, Travis greets him by bouncing a volleyball lightly into the back of his head. He turns and glares at Travis who just laughs, picks the ball back up, and tucks it under his arm.

"Wanna play volleyball?" Travis asks with a smile like nothing's wrong, like they haven't just gone through a battle, like they haven't lost friends and family, like nothing happened at all.

Which seems par for the course if Malcolm thinks about it. Travis has always been good at lying and pretending he's fine.

"That's not how you ask someone for a game," Malcolm grumbles, rubbing his head. "And Annabeth isn't down for it. She says not until the war is over."

Travis wilts, but just as quickly perks back up and places a mask over his disappointment.

"We don't need Annabeth," Travis says, hitting the ball overhead in a slow arc toward him, "It can be just you and Sherman against me and Connor. Or you, Sherman, and Miranda against me, Connor, and Michael. Either one works as long as we play."

Malcolm catches the worn-out ball and holds it, ignoring Travis motioning for him to pass it back.

"Why?" he asks, staring at the volleyball with all its scrapes and tattered edges and fraying seams. They need a new one. But it's been so hard to find time to go out and buy one. He clings the ball closer to his chest. "Why do you want to play? Annabeth is right. We have countless missions and not enough campers for each one. By the time we recovered, that avenue had already closed. If we replace our volleyball matches with resting then I'm sure we can take—"

"Because why not?" Travis bounds up to him in a few, long strides and snatches the volleyball from his hands, twirling away when Malcolm tries to grab it back. Travis spins the ball in between his hands with a blithe grin. "We always play volleyball around this time. Why break the routine now? Besides crushing Sherman always cheers Connor up and you like playing with us too. Don't lie. It's a win-win for everybody."

Travis says that last part in a teasing tone. But it's not necessarily a lie.

After all the years of losing and losing and losing, he got over it. (Not really).

The sting of defeat doesn't hurt anymore. (It still hurts).

And he's much more relaxed about winning now. (He's coping).

"Even though we won't have Annabeth with us?" Malcolm questions. Annabeth is the only one that gives them a challenge. Won't it be boring just bulldozing us?

"Who needs Annabeth when I'm here?" Sherman announces, coming towards them from the cabins with Michael in tow beside him. Miranda and Connor lag behind them, their conversation just ending when they get there but Malcolm sees Miranda patting Connor on the back and offering him a small smile before jogging to catch up to Sherman and Michael.

Sherman grabs the ball from Travis's fingers a bit too roughly, squaring up to Travis with a glare that would intimidate anyone but the son of Hermes just smiles wider.

"I have to win a match before I die," Sherman says, "So let's go. Game on."

"That's a bit dramatic," Miranda notes, resting her arms and chin on their porch, "It might actually be bad luck to say that."

"It is bad luck," Michael snorts, leaning back against the porch and shifting to accommodate the bow on his back better. Which looks a lot like Lee's bow but it's none of his business what Michael gets up to. "It's like signing your death warrant. You're definitely dying before beating Travis and Connor."

Sherman ignores all of them, turning to Malcolm and pressing the volleyball against his chest. "Come on, Malcolm. You and me. We're crushing them."

And Malcolm drops all inhibition as he accepts the invitation, taking the ball into his hands. Sherman breaks out into a feral grin.

There's a calculating gleam in his eyes as he turns to Connor, taunting him in a way they all know Connor won't refuse. "So that leaves you. You're backing out like a chicken?"

Malcolm watches Connor take a deep breath and wash the tiredness off his face, leaning an elbow on Miranda's shoulder with a half-hearted smirk. "If Malcolm is in, so am I. But I want Miranda on my team. 3v3. It'll be like the old times when Miranda puts you in your place."

Sherman stiffens. He's trying so hard not to pout in disappointment. Instead he huffs which isn't that much better, turning to Michael and hissing, "Hey. Pull your weight. You were dragging us down last time."

"What?" Michael goggles in disbelief, "I was the one who scored most of the points! Pull your own weight and stop gawking at Miranda!"

"I don't do that!" Sherman screeches, eyes shifting to Miranda who's literally standing right there.

Fortunately, Miranda is just as dense as Percy when it comes to romance, looking off to the side with an apologetic chuckle. "Sorry, I asked Sherman to help me improve my form for blocking and spiking. I didn't mean to hold you back."

Unfortunately, Michael doesn't know when to shut up.

"It's not you, Miranda. It's just that Sherman is completely and utterly—"

Sherman nearly shoves the both of them off the porch in his haste to clamp a hand over Michael's mouth. But Miranda supports Michael up with a hand on his back while Michael wrestles the son of Ares off him.

Sherman is seething. He's fuming. He's as red as a tomato as he yells in Michael's face, voice cracking in a way that has most of them tittering. "Shut up! You're absolutely shit when it comes to blocking. Do better."

"And you suck when it comes to serving!" Michael shoots back, "Stop with the jump float serve already. It always either goes out of bounds or it never makes it over the net. Which are both very, very bad in case you didn't know."

"I can't even do a basic serve. And if I'm going to fail then go big or go home, I say."

"And I say, make it go over the net or get the fuck out of the court."

Travis bellows in laughter as the six of them walk to the volleyball court.

Malcolm can't help the small smile and for a moment he forgets about the burned bodies and his aching grief.

Nothing else exists but this moment of peace and tranquility.

Summer 2009

"Malcolm!"

Annabeth slams the door open to their cabin with a volleyball in her hand. Percy stands behind her. She's smiling widely. They're both smiling, matching free-spirited and relaxed grins he hasn't seen since before Percy was claimed. And he can't help but start to smile too.

"It's volleyball time. You, me, Percy, Chris, and Clarisse against Travis, Connor, Sherman, Will, and Miranda," Annabeth announces, face bright in good spirits, no bags under her eyes. "Today's the day. I can feel it. I know it. We're winning."

"What makes you say that?" he asks as he tucks his crochet needles and yarn beside his pillow and follows them outside.

"Because we won the war," Annabeth says as she stares straight ahead to where their opponents are waiting for them. Travis spots them coming and points at them excitedly, nudging Connor and Will stretching on the court and looking over his shoulder at Sherman and Miranda warming up with passing drills. Chris and Clarisse are on the opposite side waiting for them, doing their own warm-up drills.

Annabeth tucks a strand of her hair behind her ears, her smile turning fond as her gaze falls on them. Her hand slips into Percy's and her other ruffles his hair.

"And against all odds too. Luck is definitely on our side. We need to strike while we still have it," Annabeth tells him. "Besides, I promised you last year, didn't I? That we would play again after the war?"

He smiles and nods, saying simply, "Yeah. You did."

It was less a promise and more of a tired remark, a weary request but maybe to Annabeth it's all the same. And Annabeth always keeps to her word.

With her trademark confidence they all know her for, Annabeth assures them with a flick of her ponytail and a confident beam, "Don't worry. We're not losing. I have a plan after all."

Notes:

"Haikyuu Movie: Battle of the Garbage Dump" releases in the USA on May 31st! Haikyuu has such a special place in my heart for being the first sports anime I actually love. Their OSTs are soooo good and the tension is just ajfejagoijwaofjavi. It's the perfect sports anime and I'm so excited for the movie! I remembered being obsessed with Kuroo, Oikawa, Bokuto, Hoshiumi, and the Miya twins hehe.

Thank you for reading and have a great day!