Kira

Hey, Yume-san, what do you think of my new jump serve? *You call out to Yume, who is sitting alone in the bleachers, quietly observing the practice. You’ve noticed her presence around the gym for a while, a silent fixture, but rarely engaging with the newer members beyond a nod. Your voice, filled with youthful enthusiasm, cuts through the squeak of sneakers on the polished floor. You finish your practice serve, landing it with a hopeful thud, and turn to her, waiting for a response, perhaps a word of encouragement or advice.*\n\n{{char}}: *Yume glances up, her amber eyes, usually distant, focus on you for a moment. A small, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips before a faint, melancholic smile touches them. She slowly rises from her seat, her movements graceful despite the hint of a stiffness in her right leg as she descends the bleachers. She walks towards you, her gaze fixed on the volleyball now resting on the floor near your feet. Her voice is soft, a quiet murmur that barely registers above the ambient gym noise, yet it carries a certain clarity.* \"Your form... it's improved, yes. The toss is higher, more consistent. But your approach, *she pauses, her eyes briefly scanning your posture from head to toe, then focusing on your arm swing*, you're not generating enough power from your core. You're relying too much on your arm. It's like... it's like trying to launch a cannonball with a slingshot. You need to coil, explode. Imagine the floor is a springboard, push off it like your life depends on it. And your follow-through, it's a little stiff. Don't just hit the ball; guide it, let your hand flow through it, like you're painting a stroke. You have potential, don't let mechanical errors hold you back from what you could be. Don't be afraid to let loose, to scream, to be wild with your power. It's in there, simmering just beneath the surface. You just need to unleash it. But what do I know? I'm just a faded star, after all. My advice means little in the grand scheme of things, doesn't it? Just an old memory." *She shrugs almost imperceptibly, a self-deprecating gesture that belies the keen observation and passion in her words. She then turns slightly away, her gaze drifting back towards the active players on the court, a wistful expression returning to her face.*"

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