Spring in Miyagi carried that faint smell of earth after rain, a mix of cool breeze and sunlight that made people linger outside just a little longer than necessary. Karasuno High's front gate stood open, welcoming the new wave of first-year students like the open jaws of some friendly giant.
Akira Toru leaned lazily against the side pillar of the gate, one strap of his bag dangling loosely from his shoulder, the other strap not even in use. The faint sheen of early sunlight caught in his silver hair, making it look almost metallic. Even standing still, he seemed like he was in motion somehow — not physically, but in the sense that his thoughts were already ten steps ahead, while his body had yet to catch up.
It was the first day of school.He was twenty minutes early.
Not because he wanted to be.Effort was for people who had to try.
Hinata had insisted they meet early — something about "moral support," as if Akira needed moral support for anything. He could probably walk into a room full of strangers, borrow their wallets for "a social experiment," and leave with everyone thanking him for the experience.
Still, when Hinata had asked, Akira had shrugged and said, "Sure." Saying no to Hinata was like trying to stop a puppy from following you home. Pointless and vaguely cruel.
A bright, bouncing orange head appeared in the distance. Hinata Shōyō came jogging up, grinning as if the world had personally congratulated him for waking up on time.
"Akira!" Hinata beamed. "Ready for our first day?"
Akira's mouth curved into a lazy half-smile. "Define ready. If you mean physically present but mentally lounging on a tropical island somewhere, then yes — extremely ready."
Hinata laughed, because he had long since accepted that Akira's energy was permanently set to low battery mode."You're hopeless," he said.
"And yet," Akira replied, "you still wanted me here."
Inside the gate, the campus was alive with clusters of students — some awkwardly meeting new classmates, some trying to find their way, others already forming early alliances. Akira's presence drew looks almost instantly.
The silver hair. The tall, lean build. The eyes — blue, half-lidded, and oddly calm. He didn't move with the restless energy most first-years had; instead, he walked like he already knew exactly where he was going, even if he didn't.
They found their way to the first-year building, weaving through the chatter. Akira didn't rush. He never rushed. If the flow of the crowd slowed, he simply adjusted, letting people step aside without a word. It was a small thing, but it added to the quiet charisma that made people notice him without even realizing why.
Classroom 1-B was already buzzing when they arrived. Akira stepped in, scanning the room in seconds — not out of paranoia, just habit.
He didn't look like he was analyzing, but he was.
Back row — two boys laughing too loudly, already the comedy duo. Window seat — girl with glasses, arms crossed, probably top grades but not much patience for noise. Tall kid in the middle row, hunched slightly — still growing into his height. Bright scarf girl — center of attention type, likely in every club by next month.
It wasn't judgment, just mapping.Everyone had patterns; he just spotted them faster.
Hinata headed for a desk near the middle. Akira's eyes, however, landed on the window seat. Better light, better view, easier to zone out while looking engaged. He slid into it without hesitation, dropping his bag in one motion.
The seat beside him remained empty until the bell rang. Then a girl with short black hair and sharp, knowing eyes walked in and sat down. She arranged her things neatly, then looked straight at him.
"You're Akira Toru, right?"
Akira blinked, as if processing the question took more effort than it did. "Depends. Are you a reporter, a fan, or someone challenging me to a duel?"
She smirked. "Aya Mizuno. Not a reporter, not a fan… and the duel thing is negotiable."
Her voice was calm, confident — not the "I'm trying to be confident" kind, but the real deal.
"Well, Aya," Akira said, leaning back in his chair, "how do you know me?"
"You won three national championships in middle school. Even people who don't follow volleyball have heard of you." Her eyes flicked over him. "You're… less intense than I expected."
"That's because my brain's in power-saving mode until it's holding a volleyball. Outside of that, I work on minimal effort."
From two desks over, a small group of girls whispered.
"That's him, right? The Chidoriyama captain?""He's so tall…""Look at his eyes. I swear he's in a drama or something."
Akira caught every word, though he didn't turn his head. Instead, he glanced at Aya. "First bet of the year: I give it a week before half the class asks me for homework help."
Aya raised an eyebrow. "Why would they? You just said you don't try."
"That's the beauty of it," Akira said. "Minimal effort still works when your IQ's 194."
Aya stared at him for a beat, then laughed. "You're insufferable."
Homeroom began. The teacher introduced herself, but Akira's pen was already moving — not on notes, but on a small diagram mapping classroom "territories."
Hinata's already making a friend behind him. Aya's social radius is exactly balanced — approachable without being too open. Comedy duo in the back will be popular until mid-year burnout. Bright scarf girl is already mentally running for class president.
He didn't judge. He just… cataloged.
By mid-morning, he'd spoken to a dozen classmates without making the first move. People gravitated to him — drawn by the combination of calm confidence and just enough teasing to make conversations memorable.
A boy asked if his hair was dyed."If it was," Akira replied, "you think I'd wake up early enough to maintain it?"
A girl asked about his height."You mean you guys aren't all 187 cm? Weird."
They laughed, and the admiration in their eyes was obvious.
At lunch, Hinata dragged him to the courtyard. Aya followed, saying she "just wanted fresh air," but somehow ended up walking beside Akira.
"So," Aya said, unwrapping her sandwich, "are the rumors true? Did you really turn down Shiratorizawa and Aoba Johsai?"
Hinata froze mid-bite. "You WHAT?!"
Akira smirked. "Guess you missed that part. I'm here, aren't I?"
Aya tilted her head. "That's… unusual. Most players would kill for those offers."
"I like unusual," Akira said, tearing a piece off his bread roll. "Keeps things interesting."
Hinata grinned. "And you get to play with me!"
"That too," Akira said without missing a beat.
The afternoon was more of the same.
Teacher's pace is too fast — half the class is lost. Tall kid's doodling — possible artistic type. Aya's handwriting is military-grade neat. Hinata's "notes" are just volleyball diagrams.
At one point, Aya slid him a note:
You look bored out of your mind.
He wrote back without looking up:
This is my engaged face. My bored one's worse.
Aya's stifled laugh made the teacher glance over suspiciously.
By the end of the day, Akira had managed to charm half the class and intrigue the rest, without once looking like he was trying. When the final bell rang, Aya stood, slipping her bag over her shoulder.
"Oh," she said casually, "I'm the volleyball team's new manager."
Akira paused mid-yawn. "…You're kidding."
"Nope." Her smirk was identical to the one she'd given when they first met. "Guess you'll be seeing a lot more of me, power-saving mode and all."
Akira watched her walk out. "Great. My benchmate's also my boss."
Hinata popped up behind him. "She's kinda scary."
Akira smiled faintly. "Scary's just another word for interesting."