Luca looked down at the court, his fists clenched. Hector walked over.
"Hey, uh… maybe if we do a pipe-"
"No" Hector freezes as Luca exhales.
"He'll predict that… that's how he plays… right, exactly…" Hector gulps.
"L-Luca?" Luca looks back up, lifting his palm out in front of him, clenching it. His eyes glowing with a calm intensity.
"He can predict us all he wants, but he can't out speed us" Hector shrugs and turns around, Luca resting a hand on his shoulder.
"Tell the others… run with all their speed and trust me to get them the ball" Hector locks eyes with Luca nods.
"Y-Yeah"
Kurai tosses the ball high into the air. Flying forward and dropping it right in front of the net. Diego dives forward. Hector rushes towards the net at full sprint. Luca's eyes glow. 'Kurai… predict this!' Luca jumps up to do a quick set, suddenly spiking it behind him at an angle with a smirk. Kurai's eyes track the ball.
"Kyle!" Kyle appears under the ball. It slams into his shoulder. 'Too far forward!' The ball ricochets off his shoulder and nearly out of bounds as Sean appears, barely getting his fist under the ball. Siding it back to the court. Kurai's eyes glow as he looks over. 'I won't reach it!' Kurai stretches his arm out, but the ball hits the net and then the court. USA 19-12 Arg.
"What an impeccable strategy by team captain and setter, Luca Menendez!!"
"And now Hector steps up to serve for Argentina!"
The whistle blows as Hector tosses the ball, bolting forward. Slamming the ball full strength across the court. Luca smirks 'he sent it to Kurai, good! We can knock the USA off balance without their star setter!' Kurai took a calm step forward and leaned down. His arms under the ball as he softly brings up the serve, perfectly dropping it on the tape of the net. The ball rolling over and hitting the court. USA 20-12 Arg. Luca freezes. 'I'm stupid! He's a setter who can manipulate the court with insane tactics! Of course he'd also have insane ball control!!' Luca grits his teeth.
[12 Years ago]
The gym echoed with the rhythmic sound of volleyballs bouncing against the floor and the occasional thud of players colliding with the court. Luca sat alone on the bench, watching the final moments of the regional tournament unfold in front of him. 'And there it is… our loss in the first round… shoulda saw this coming' Luca looks up at his father, Alejandro Menendez, who stood off to the side, arms crossed, brow furrowed in frustration.
"Come on, Luca," he muttered under his breath.
"Get it together." Luca blankly stared at his father. 'Dad's always been vocal… always pushing me to become better… play better, hit harder, run faster…' Luca turned away, repeating his father's mantra in his mind. 'Success is all about brute strength, the raw power that makes you unstoppable.' Luca watched as his teammates returned to the bench, defeated. 'Dad doesn't understand that being fast is important, it's also stupidly reckless and a weak strategy…' He turned to see his mom, who held a clipboard.
"We lost today for one main reason: our cohesion wasn't on point at all! Barely anyone was calling possession of the ball of spikes, blocks, or even serve receive!" Luca slightly tunes out his mom's silent rambling. 'While it gets agitating with all her strategy rambling, I prefer hearing her soft rambles over dad's obnoxiousness' Luca's gaze drifted to the floor, his fists clenching in frustration.
"We should've won that," he muttered to himself. He had outplayed everyone—his speed, his reflexes, his ability to jump higher, hit harder. And yet, his team had faltered. No matter how much he dominated, the team lacked cohesion. They had played as individuals, not a unit. Luca grits his teeth. 'Why does it seem like everyone is playing a TV series… all… boring and predictable'
"Coach, what went wrong?" Daniel, the captain of the team, approached him, looking just as defeated. The tall, quiet middle had a mix of confusion and frustration in his eyes. Before his dad could speak, Luca intervened.
"It wasn't enough. We were all too busy playing our own game." Daniel glanced over at the rest of the team, all sitting on the benches, heads down. Then looking up at Coach Alejandro.
"We'll get it next year, right?" he asked, unsure, his voice almost pleading. Luca turned and walked away, no longer interested in the conversation. Pity wasn't something he paid attention to.