"Cuz when push comes to shove, you taste what you're made of.
You might bend 'til you break, cuz it's all you can take.
On your knees you look up, decide you've had enough.
You get mad, you get strong. Wipe your hands, shake it off.
Then you stand."

~ Rascal Flatts ~

Breath.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Block out the noise.

Focus on the corner.

Throw your arms back.

And fly.

Most people go their whole lives without ever finding something they're passionate about.

They have hobbies, they have dreams. But they lack passion. That little voice in the back of their head, that tells them to get back up. Even when it hurts to move. Get back up.Even when it hurts to breath. Get back up. Even when it hurts to think.

And against all odds, that little voice actually manages to make them get back up.

To be passionate about something is to dedicate everything to it. Your time, your money, your health, everything. It is to give all you have to give, and, at the end of the day, to be disappointed that there wasn't more you could do.

Passion isn't about a goal. It's not about winning, or being the best. No, if you are passionate about something then it doesn't matter if you fail. If you lose. If you never, ever, improve. Because, at the end of the day, you still did it.

Yes, most people go their whole lives without ever finding something they're passionate about.

But I'm not most people.

One.

Shift weight from back leg.

Two.

Swing arms up.

Three.

Leap through the air.

Four.

Slap hands down.

Five.

Rebound.

The first time I discovered my passion...I must have been four years old. At that age most kids don't even have strong opinions. They may "like" this, or that. But they definitely aren't old enough to make any grandiose statements such as "I'm gonna be..." not "I want to be" nor "I'd like to be" but, full of conviction, flat-out, "I am going to be."

I say this, however, knowing full well that at the age of four I knew exactly what I was going to be.

Now, some might have a problem with my parents allowing me to pursue my passion at such a young age. Sure sports were good for kids, and team sports all the better, and this sport was all about discipline. But the time commitment alone was too much to except of a child, surely?

To these people I say, hah. It's because of comments like those that I persevered in the beginning. When I was just starting out. When I would come home, everyday, barely able to move. Wake up, every morning, with my whole body screaming. It's because of all those people who told me to "take it easy" that I found the strength to push myself.

To this day I can't quite explain it. Explain how you can love a sport so much that you would do literally anything it asked of you. Push any limit. Fight any odd. Anything.

To this day I can't quite explain it. Explain how you can love a sport so much that you would lie about literally anything to keep from being pulled. Your grades. Your diet. Yourinjuries.

It takes a special breed of stupid to keep an injury from a coach.

Part of it is naivitee. Part of it is pride. But mainly it's fear. Fear that you'll be pulled for that day. For that month. For that season. Fear that you'll let your team-mates down. Fear that you'll let your coach down. But mainly, fear that you'll let yourself down. After all, you're fine. You just need to get back up.

It takes a special breed of stupid to keep an injury from a coach. And blunder, thy name is athlete.

Coil.

Spring.

Stretch.

Arms reachreachreaching up.

Legs reachreachreaching down.

Contact.

And

Pain.

Most people go their whole lives without finding something they're passionate about. I found my passion when I was four. I gave it twelve years of my life. And in return it gave me three scars.

One on my ankle.

One on my mind.

And one on my heart.

To this day I can't see someone rolling their ankle without having severe flashbacks. Can't bring myself to so much as play hop-scotch, due to phantom pains. And can't, under any circumstance, bring myself to walk past my old gym.

This is not a story of a comeback. This is not a story of me chasing my dreams. This is not a story of recovery. No, this is about a little, bitter, lost, girl-who had her wings clipped too early. This is the story of a could-have-been star, who never go the chance to shine. This is a story of a gymnast, who took up volleyball. All because that damned boy's eyes sparkled with an all-too familiar light.

This may not be my sport. This may not be my passion. But I've spent twelve years accepting nothing less than perfection, and I'll be damned if I let anyone get a ball passed me.

"It's nice to make your acquaintance. My name is Himura Setsuna, I'm a transfer from Tirangakuen, and I would like to try for the position of libero."