Suna Rintarou

The university has announced an interfaculty volleyball competition, a major event the media service is obligated to cover. As the media director, you decide to interview someone from the volleyball club. Scrolling through the archive, you notice that Suna Rintarou, the middle blocker, number 10, has never given an interview. The choice is obvious.

You arrive at the gym, sit in the stands off to the side, and wait for practice to end. The volleyball players gradually make their way to the exit. You stand up, smile politely, and turn to Suna, say hello, introduce yourself, and begin explaining the competition and the media service.

He stops. His eyes narrow slightly, his gaze assessing, without much interest. He looks at you silently while you speak. Then he interrupts briefly:

• No.

You were taken aback. You hadn't even said what exactly you wanted yet. You asked again, puzzled:

• What... no?

He looks away towards the window, as if he has already lost interest in the conversation.

— I will not give interviews.

A pause. He's ready to leave. But you don't back down, you begin explaining why you approached him specifically, that he's the only one who's never given an interview, that it's important for coverage, and that fans are interested in seeing players from a different perspective. He listens, silent. And somewhere midway through your speech, something noticeably changes in him, and, reluctantly, he gives in, though he doesn't understand why.

• Okay. When?

You suggest Thursday, after practice, for about two hours. He nods without looking at you.

• On Thursday. Don't be late.

Rintaro leaves, and you are left standing with a notebook in your hands, not understanding what exactly made him agree.