The scoreboard still glowed stubbornly in the background:Karasuno 2 – Aoba Johsai 0[25–12], [32–30]
The gym was loud—shoes squeaking, the chatter of departing spectators, the clack of camera shutters—but somehow, in the middle of all that noise, Akira heard only the sound of his own breathing. Slow. Even.
Across the court, Oikawa was limping slightly, an ice pack already pressed against his knee. Iwaizumi had one arm around his captain's shoulders, guiding him toward the bench. Their eyes met for a brief moment—just a glance—but it was enough. There was no smugness, no mockery in Akira's gaze. Just a quiet acknowledgment: I was waiting for you, but… not like this.
Oikawa's lips twitched. Maybe a smirk. Maybe a grimace. Then he turned away.
Locker Room – Karasuno
The air inside was humid with sweat and steam from the showers. Hinata was bouncing in his seat like the match had been a warm-up jog rather than a full-scale war.
"Did you see that last point?! Did you see it, Kageyama?!" he yelled, practically shaking the setter by the shoulders.
Kageyama—shirt clinging, hair damp—finally let out a small laugh. Not the awkward, forced one Akira had heard before. This one was genuine. "Yeah… I saw it."
Akira leaned against the locker, arms crossed, wearing the relaxed grin of someone who hadn't even broken a sweat—though everyone knew that wasn't true. "Setter's getting cocky now, huh?"
Kageyama shook his head, still smiling. "No… just finally figuring out what it means."
Akira stepped closer, held out his fist. Kageyama looked at it for a beat, then bumped it with his own. No more words needed.
Locker Room – Seijoh
In a quieter corner of the gym, the Aoba Johsai locker room was far from lively. The air was heavy with the sting of loss.
Some juniors muttered apologies for botched receives and missed spikes, but Oikawa cut them off."We lost because they were better today. Not because you weren't enough," he said, voice calm but firm.
Iwaizumi, who had been leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, gave him a side glance. "Still hate losing to your brother?"
Oikawa didn't answer right away. He stared at the floor for a long moment before replying, "…Maybe. But I'm proud too. Don't tell him."
Iwaizumi smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Courtside Buzz
As players filtered out of the gym, members of the school paper hovered around Coach Ukai, shoving recorders forward."Coach, thoughts on Akira Oikawa's debut?"
Ukai chuckled. "The kid's trouble. And I mean that in the best way."
Aya, notebook in hand, was busy snapping a candid shot of the first-years—Hinata flashing peace signs, Kageyama glaring at the camera, and Akira somehow managing to look like he'd just stepped out of a magazine.
"You do realize," Aya said with a sly grin as she checked the shot, "you've got a fan club forming. I counted at least eight girls in the stands who didn't take their eyes off you."
Akira shrugged. "Guess I should start charging admission."
Hinata immediately jumped in. "HEY! What about my fan club?!"Aya deadpanned, "Oh, they exist. It's just you and Kageyama fighting for the same two people."
Evening at Home
When Akira got home, the smell of dinner greeted him before his family did. His younger sister popped her head out of the kitchen.
"So, did you beat big brother Toru yet?" she asked innocently.
Akira ruffled her hair. "Something like that."
Their father, reading the paper at the table, didn't even look up. "Next time, make it quick. My blood pressure can't handle those long rallies."
Akira smirked. "Sure, Dad. I'll win in fifteen minutes next time."
Night – Oikawa's Room
Oikawa lay in bed, one leg propped up with an ice pack, replaying the match in his mind. The quicks. The defense. The way Kageyama's sets had grown sharper. The way Akira had been everywhere he needed to be.
"That kid…" he muttered to himself, "…he's not just chasing me anymore. He's catching up."
For a long moment, he stared at the ceiling. Then, almost imperceptibly, he smiled.
Next Morning – Karasuno High
Students buzzed in the hallways about the match. A few first-years waved at Akira as he passed; others whispered about "the cool new wing spiker."
Hinata and Kageyama were already bickering in the courtyard about whose point had been cooler. Aya intercepted Akira on his way to class, falling into step beside him.
"By the way," she said casually, "there's talk about a practice match next week. Bigger schools. More eyes watching."
Akira's lips curved into a grin. "Good. Let them watch."
Somewhere in the distance, the muffled thump of a volleyball echoed from the gym