The whistle pierced the air again. Karasuno returned to the court with an energy that felt heavier than their usual chaotic hype—more controlled, like a predator circling in.
16–8Kageyama served first after the break. The ball cut through the air with a sharp whip, smacking into Watari's arms. The receive was clean, but Yahaba's set drifted a fraction too far inside. Kindaichi still leapt, swinging hard cross-court.
Nishinoya's dive was instant.
"Mine!"The ball popped perfectly into the air.
Akira stepped in—not to attack, but to give Kageyama a quick, smooth pass back. Without looking, Kageyama sent it to Tsukishima, who brushed it off the blockers' fingertips for the point.
18–9Seijoh answered with a solid block on Tanaka's line shot, but Karasuno shrugged it off. On the next serve, Akira slipped a jump float to the deep corner, forcing Kunimi into an awkward bump. Yahaba had to set from the back row, and the attack was soft.
Daichi kept it alive. Kageyama barely hesitated before tossing it high to Akira in the back row.Boom! The spike ripped down the seam between Kindaichi and Watari.
The crowd roared.
20–10From the sidelines, Nishinoya leaned toward Hinata during rotation.
"You see that? That's controlled power. Not just hitting—he's reading the seam before the blockers even move."
Hinata nodded, eyes bright.
"He makes it look easy…"
Akira smirked to himself. Exactly the point.
22–11Now the rallies stretched out. Seijoh dug deeper, their libero covering the backcourt like a net of his own. Karasuno's patience paid off—Tanaka faked a cross shot, then tipped gently over the block, landing just inside the ten-foot line.
The Seijoh bench shifted uneasily. Toru Oikawa still sat motionless, one hand on his knee. But Akira caught the slight narrowing of his eyes. He was reading the court, storing every detail.
24–12Match point for the first set. The gym was buzzing.
Kageyama to serve. His toss arced high, the jump serve cracking like thunder. Watari kept it alive with a perfect dig, and Yahaba sprinted to set Kunimi for one last desperate swing.
Akira moved early, reading the angle before the set even left Yahaba's hands. His block timing was perfect—the ball slammed straight down on Seijoh's side.
Thud.The whistle followed instantly.
25–12 — First Set, Karasuno.
The Karasuno bench erupted, high-fives all around. Hinata nearly bounced out of his skin. Tsukishima only muttered,
"One down."
But Akira wasn't celebrating loudly. His eyes were on the Seijoh bench—on Toru Oikawa, who finally stood up, unzipping his jacket slowly.
He could hear the Seijoh captain's voice in his head from years ago: "Volleyball's about control, little brother. Whoever controls the flow… wins."
Akira rolled his shoulders, a slow grin tugging at his mouth.Alright, big bro. Let's see if you've still got it.
The scoreboard's 25–12 glared down like a declaration: Karasuno had crushed Set 1. But no one on their side was relaxing. The air inside the gym was changing—subtle at first, like a drop in temperature before a storm.
Across the net, Aoba Johsai's bench was a flurry of activity. Jerseys rustled, water bottles hissed open, and whispered voices formed quick strategy huddles. Then… the crowd noise sharpened.
Because Toru Oikawa was standing.
He moved with deliberate calm, shrugging off his warm-up jacket, the zip sounding far too loud in the hushed anticipation. The moment his arms slipped free, phones flashed from the stands, fans shouting his name like a chorus.
"It's Oikawa!""Finally, he's coming in!""Seijoh's serious now—look out, Karasuno!"
Akira watched him like a hawk, leaning back against the bench with an easy smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. You waited out the first set… fine. I'll give you the pace in the second—then I'll take it back.
Beside him, Hinata bounced nervously on the balls of his feet.
"So, uh… that's your brother?"
Akira smirked.
"Unfortunately for him, yeah."
Kageyama's eyes narrowed, his competitive fire stoked by the arrival of the setter he once looked up to—and once fought against. His fists clenched.
"I'm not losing to him."
Tsukishima broke the tension with his usual deadpan.
"Wow, a family drama and an ex-teammate rivalry. Feels like I'm watching a soap opera."
From the other side, Seijoh's libero, Watari, pointed toward Karasuno's side as Oikawa passed.
"Watch for their number 11. He's reading everything."
Oikawa's gaze swept the court and landed squarely on Akira. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then the captain's smile curved upward—polished, confident, dangerous.
The whistle signaled warm-up serves for Set 2. Karasuno lined up, but Daichi's voice broke through the buzz.
"Keep your focus. They're coming back harder. Don't let the hype shake you."
The crowd's volume rose to a low roar, each rally in the practice warm-up drawing oohs and gasps. The second set hadn't even begun, but it felt like everyone—players, coaches, and fans—was bracing for impact.
Akira rolled his neck, took one slow breath, and stepped to the baseline.Alright, Oikawa. Let's see how much you've improved since we last shared a court.
The whistle blew.