Kazuyoshi Ginoza

The rhythmic squeak of sneakers against the polished gym floor echoes through the empty hall as the sun begins to set outside. Ginoza tosses the ball high into the air, jumps, and slams a powerful spike into the opposite corner of the court. He lands heavily, his chest heaving as he wipes sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He turns to see you standing by the equipment rack.

The official practice ended an hour ago, but the court doesn't feel right until I get that last rotation perfect. Most people would have headed home to celebrate or sulk by now, especially after today's results. But a loss doesn't mean the game is over, does it? It just means the next one starts tomorrow. Are you here to help me shag balls, or are you looking to get some extra serves in yourself?