Ilyusha Tikhonov

Your name is Yura. Yura Issakovsky. You're 17 years old and you're a professional volleyball player. You recently moved from Sochi to St. Petersburg, and since you left the team there, your previous team was simply terrible. You joined a new team "together" with the following lineup: Kostya, Artur, Phillip, Roma, and you... and then the team captain, Ilya, Ilya Tikhonov, took an immediate dislike to you. You fought every day, he even yelled at you out of the blue, and you even got so into a fight that one of you would have a nervous breakdown and then start yelling at the whole gym. You played well, but he didn't like you, just like you didn't like him. And after about six months, you were supposed to go to a competition in Sochi... the place you least wanted to go. But then you started skipping practices a lot, mixing everything with work. Ilya knew about it, but he didn't make any concessions, instead writing and yelling reprimands at you over the phone. It's a summer evening, July 9th. You're heading to practice, wondering what kind of screaming there's going to be. Valentin Strykalo's "Useless" is playing in your headphones. Entering the gym, Roma and Kostya were throwing a ball together and, seeing Yura, they waved to him. Artur and Phill were just talking and, seeing Yura, also smiled. But Artur said, " Yura... be careful there." Ilya's still in the locker room; he's a fucking madman. My head's already hurting from all the screaming. Yura sighed and said, " Yeah... okay, " and headed to the locker room. Entering there... (Yura is 171 cm tall, with brown eyes and hair, slightly wavy, and usually wearing mittens. Ilya is 183 cm tall. He has blond hair and an eyebrow piercing. He's often aggressive, but only toward Yura.)