Out of focus
Shoyo often attaches pictures to his emails.
After our practice match in May, Shoyo asked to exchange email addresses.
That was the first time I had registered a name in my phone other than family or club members. To be honest, I thought the messages would stop coming soon after.
Even though we had run into each other on the street before our formal introduction, to Shoyo, I was just “the setter from the Tokyo volleyball team we played a practice match with for one day.” Exchanging addresses in the heat of the moment usually doesn’t mean much—once that initial excitement fades, it’s normal for things to fizzle out (although there was no comparable experience).
But contrary to my expectations, Shoyo kept sending me messages, consistently and without pause.
Most of them were about volleyball—things like what kind of practice he did that day or random anecdotes from club activities. They were simple, diary-like notes.
If someone else sent me messages like that, I’d probably find it annoying, but Shoyo’s emails were strangely devoid of irritation. I would respond when I could, and over time, I even started messaging him first now and then.
I thought this might be a rare case, but Yaku-san, who exchanged addresses with the other setter (who Shoyo called Sugawara-san), said, “I get messages from him too, pretty often.” Maybe it was a Karasuno thing, or a quirk of people from that area.
Sometimes Shoyo’s messages weren’t even about volleyball. He’d write about scenes he saw on the way home, catching a giant dragonfly, or complaining about how annoying his homework was—things like that.
Whatever the content, more often than not, there would be a picture attached. Shoyo’s phone was a slightly outdated flip phone, with a camera that didn’t have high resolution. Maybe he didn’t pay much attention to how the pictures turned out, because most of them were blurry.
The out-of-focus, smudged images of the sky, mountains, and Karasuno’s volleyball members were sent without rhyme or reason, with or without commentary. I could never figure out the criteria he used to decide when to include them.
Sometimes I would comment on the pictures, sometimes not. When I did, Shoyo would usually send a reply, but he never seemed desperate for one. If I had to describe it in a word, our exchanges were “laid-back.”
Maybe that’s why even someone like me, who isn’t good at socializing, was able to keep it going.
Talking with Shoyo was fun.
That day, it had been raining since morning.
It wasn’t quite a drizzle, but the rain was fine and clung to everything, making the day feel dreary.
I attended classes and practiced with the team, half-mindedly thinking, “Maybe the rainy season is coming. I really don’t like that.” By the time I was heading home, the clouds had started to part, revealing patches of sky.
This time of year, the days were getting longer, so sometimes the sun was still out even after practice.
I hadn’t realized it earlier because of the clouds, but it looked like today was one of those days.
As I glanced up at the orange-streaked sky between the torn clouds, wondering if it would be sunny and hot tomorrow (which I wouldn’t enjoy), Kuro, who was walking beside me, made a strange sound.
“What is it?”
“Hey, look at that,” he said, pointing up.
Following his gaze, I also let out a small sound of surprise.
“A rainbow.”
“It’s huge.”
A large rainbow stretched across the sky, cutting through the lingering gray clouds in a perfect arc. The ends were hidden behind buildings, but it was still obvious how big it was.
I vaguely recalled reading that rainbows in the morning and evening appear largest due to the angle of sunlight.
Kuro and I stood there for a while, staring up at the sky like idiots. Then I suddenly realized something and raised my phone to the sky.
I wasn’t used to using the camera function, which made it awkward as I tried to frame the shot. Nature’s beauty is hard to capture exactly as it is.
While I was fiddling with the settings, a thought struck me out of nowhere.
“Oh.”
“What?”
“...It’s nothing.”
Kuro looked at me with a puzzled expression, but I just repeated, “It’s nothing,” and pressed the shutter.
What I realized really was nothing at all.
The reason Shoyo sends me blurry photos is that he wants to share them with me.
He wants to share what he sees and hears across the distance between Miyagi and Tokyo, through the airwaves.
Just like I did now.
I quickly typed out a message and sent it to Shoyo.
He might reply right away, or he might not. By then, the rainbow would probably be gone, but it didn’t matter.
Glancing at Kuro, who was yawning widely, I gripped my phone a little tighter.
From now on, I’ll make more of an effort to talk about Shoyo’s pictures.
----------------------------
written by Kicho
※This fanfiction is originally written by me in Japanese and translated with ChatGPT’s help.
※Do not reupload my fanfiction
After our practice match in May, Shoyo asked to exchange email addresses.
That was the first time I had registered a name in my phone other than family or club members. To be honest, I thought the messages would stop coming soon after.
Even though we had run into each other on the street before our formal introduction, to Shoyo, I was just “the setter from the Tokyo volleyball team we played a practice match with for one day.” Exchanging addresses in the heat of the moment usually doesn’t mean much—once that initial excitement fades, it’s normal for things to fizzle out (although there was no comparable experience).
But contrary to my expectations, Shoyo kept sending me messages, consistently and without pause.
Most of them were about volleyball—things like what kind of practice he did that day or random anecdotes from club activities. They were simple, diary-like notes.
If someone else sent me messages like that, I’d probably find it annoying, but Shoyo’s emails were strangely devoid of irritation. I would respond when I could, and over time, I even started messaging him first now and then.
I thought this might be a rare case, but Yaku-san, who exchanged addresses with the other setter (who Shoyo called Sugawara-san), said, “I get messages from him too, pretty often.” Maybe it was a Karasuno thing, or a quirk of people from that area.
Sometimes Shoyo’s messages weren’t even about volleyball. He’d write about scenes he saw on the way home, catching a giant dragonfly, or complaining about how annoying his homework was—things like that.
Whatever the content, more often than not, there would be a picture attached. Shoyo’s phone was a slightly outdated flip phone, with a camera that didn’t have high resolution. Maybe he didn’t pay much attention to how the pictures turned out, because most of them were blurry.
The out-of-focus, smudged images of the sky, mountains, and Karasuno’s volleyball members were sent without rhyme or reason, with or without commentary. I could never figure out the criteria he used to decide when to include them.
Sometimes I would comment on the pictures, sometimes not. When I did, Shoyo would usually send a reply, but he never seemed desperate for one. If I had to describe it in a word, our exchanges were “laid-back.”
Maybe that’s why even someone like me, who isn’t good at socializing, was able to keep it going.
Talking with Shoyo was fun.
That day, it had been raining since morning.
It wasn’t quite a drizzle, but the rain was fine and clung to everything, making the day feel dreary.
I attended classes and practiced with the team, half-mindedly thinking, “Maybe the rainy season is coming. I really don’t like that.” By the time I was heading home, the clouds had started to part, revealing patches of sky.
This time of year, the days were getting longer, so sometimes the sun was still out even after practice.
I hadn’t realized it earlier because of the clouds, but it looked like today was one of those days.
As I glanced up at the orange-streaked sky between the torn clouds, wondering if it would be sunny and hot tomorrow (which I wouldn’t enjoy), Kuro, who was walking beside me, made a strange sound.
“What is it?”
“Hey, look at that,” he said, pointing up.
Following his gaze, I also let out a small sound of surprise.
“A rainbow.”
“It’s huge.”
A large rainbow stretched across the sky, cutting through the lingering gray clouds in a perfect arc. The ends were hidden behind buildings, but it was still obvious how big it was.
I vaguely recalled reading that rainbows in the morning and evening appear largest due to the angle of sunlight.
Kuro and I stood there for a while, staring up at the sky like idiots. Then I suddenly realized something and raised my phone to the sky.
I wasn’t used to using the camera function, which made it awkward as I tried to frame the shot. Nature’s beauty is hard to capture exactly as it is.
While I was fiddling with the settings, a thought struck me out of nowhere.
“Oh.”
“What?”
“...It’s nothing.”
Kuro looked at me with a puzzled expression, but I just repeated, “It’s nothing,” and pressed the shutter.
What I realized really was nothing at all.
The reason Shoyo sends me blurry photos is that he wants to share them with me.
He wants to share what he sees and hears across the distance between Miyagi and Tokyo, through the airwaves.
Just like I did now.
I quickly typed out a message and sent it to Shoyo.
He might reply right away, or he might not. By then, the rainbow would probably be gone, but it didn’t matter.
Glancing at Kuro, who was yawning widely, I gripped my phone a little tighter.
From now on, I’ll make more of an effort to talk about Shoyo’s pictures.
----------------------------
written by Kicho
※This fanfiction is originally written by me in Japanese and translated with ChatGPT’s help.
※Do not reupload my fanfiction
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