When the Nekoma bus pulled up outside Karasuno's gym, the air inside already felt like it was buzzing. Some of that was from the lingering adrenaline of the Shiratorizawa match they'd just finished — but most of it was from the knowledge of this game.
The "Battle at the Trash Heap" wasn't an official tournament. It wasn't for rankings or trophies. And yet, for everyone who knew the history, it might as well have been a championship.
Karasuno's gym doors slid open, and Coach Nekomata — walking with his slow, steady steps — was greeted by Ukai Keishin.
"Been a while, huh, Ukai-kun," Nekomata said, his voice still carrying that dry amusement.
Ukai smirked. "You mean decades."
Behind them, Nekoma's assistant coach Kai followed in with a polite bow, glancing around the gym. "Still the same wood panels… the same smell of resin. Brings back memories."
Ukai chuckled. "Let's just hope the scoreboard memories are better this time."
"Careful," Nekomata said with mock sternness. "I've got a new batch of city boys ready to run your country team into the ground."
From behind them, Yamamoto's voice rang out. "Yeah, country bumpkins better watch out!"
He didn't get far before Tanaka whipped around. "Country bumpkin?!"
Yamamoto grinned. "Yeah. Country bumpkin."
The exchange was so fast it drew the attention of both teams.
"Ohhh, so this is our rival? A shaved-head wannabe?" Yamamoto leaned in, smirking.
Tanaka stepped forward, eyes blazing. "Shaved head?! This is a symbol of dedication, you city-slick poser!"
"City-slick?!" Yaku, Nekoma's libero, barked a laugh. "He's calling us city-slick? You guys probably still get your milk from cows you name personally."
"That's better milk!" Tanaka shot back instantly.
"Name one!" Yaku challenged.
"Miyuki!" Tanaka blurted without hesitation.
Karasuno's bench collectively groaned.
Meanwhile, the Nekoma younger players were distracted by an entirely different detail — the two Karasuno female managers, Kiyoko and Yachi, standing near the bench.
"Whoa," Inuoka whispered to Fukunaga. "They have… two managers?"
"And they're both—" Inuoka hesitated, choosing his word carefully, "—like, model level?"
Yaku's ears perked up. "Don't stare, you'll look weird."
"Too late," Fukunaga murmured without moving his eyes.
From Karasuno's side, Yamaguchi muttered to Tsukishima, "They're staring."
"Of course they are," Tsukishima said, sounding bored. "They've probably never seen women before."
The tension was half-serious, half-comedic — exactly what anyone familiar with this rivalry would expect.
Over near the scorer's table, Nekoma's main coach leaned on his cane and raised his voice just enough for the younger players to hear. "Back when these two teams faced each other in our prime, the gym would be packed. We'd go five sets and still not want to leave the court."
Ukai smirked. "Some things don't change. Except…" He glanced toward Akira, leaning casually against the wall, eyes following the flow of warmups without a hint of urgency. "You've got some new pieces on the board this time."
Nekomata followed his gaze. "Silver hair. Blue eyes. First year?"
"First year," Ukai confirmed.
"Interesting," Nekomata said, his smile curling slow.
On the court, Hinata was already in full motion, tossing light passes with Kageyama. Akira wandered onto the floor at his own pace, ignoring the loud competitive energy between the rest of the players.
Kenma, spotting him, gave the smallest nod. Hinata lit up and bounded over, loudly declaring, "Pigeon Squad, assemble!" — earning confused looks from half the gym and an audible sigh from Akira.
By the time the referees began checking lineups, the rivalry tension had fully set in. Friendly, sharp, with just enough edge to make it dangerous.
And in the middle of it all, Akira just smiled lazily — like he'd been waiting for this all day.
Kenma glanced around the court without moving his head much. Karasuno was warming up — Hinata bouncing on his toes like a live wire, Kageyama slinging precise sets with no wasted motion. And there, near the far wall, was that same silver hair and lazy smile.
Akira spotted him first. His blue eyes lit with recognition, and without any hesitation, he gave a small wave like they'd just run into each other at the convenience store. Hinata noticed, followed his gaze, and immediately cupped his hands around his mouth.
"PIGEON SQUAD REUNION!"
Kenma froze. Kuroo, halfway through greeting Ukai, turned slowly with a look of pure curiosity. "...Pigeon squad?"
Kenma muttered, "It's nothing."
But Akira was already making his way over in that smooth, unhurried way of his, Hinata jogging to catch up. "Kenma," Akira said like they'd been friends for years, "you made it without getting lost this time."
Kuroo raised an eyebrow. "Ohhh, so this is what happened when you vanished earlier."
"Don't," Kenma said flatly.
Hinata leaned forward. "We should all do another boss raid after this match. You free?"
Kenma blinked. "After this match?"
"Yeah. You, me, Akira — Pigeon Squad."
"I told you I'm not calling it that," Akira said mildly, glancing toward his own team.
Kageyama, still tossing balls to himself at the net, frowned. "What's Pigeon Squad?"
"Long story," Akira said.
Warmups were… unconventional. Hinata tried to get Akira to do a sprint drill, but Akira simply jogged one lap, stopped to adjust his hair, then leaned on the wall and started stretching like they had all the time in the world.
Kenma found himself watching. It wasn't laziness — not really. Akira's eyes kept flicking between players, reading movements, storing them away. It was the same quiet observation he'd seen at the park, just with a different target.
Kuroo wandered over to him. "They've got some interesting personalities here, huh?"
Kenma didn't answer.
Across the court, Hinata tried to balance a volleyball on his head. Akira stood next to him with his arms crossed, watching him fail and offering fake "tips" like, "Try closing your eyes." The ball kept rolling off onto the floor.
Even before the whistle blew, Kenma knew — this wasn't going to feel like a standard practice match.