The whistle signaled the end of the set, and the gym buzzed like a beehive. Karasuno's bench was alive with high-fives and grins, sweat dripping, adrenaline thrumming. Hinata was practically bouncing in place, his words coming out in rapid bursts.
"That last block from Akira was insane, right? I didn't even see him move!"Kageyama was toweling off, barely glancing up. "Your set wouldn't have worked if I'd been aiming for you on that play. Akira's reach is better for that angle."Hinata stopped mid-bounce. "Hey! Are you saying I can't hit that?!"Before Kageyama could answer, Akira leaned over from his seat with that lazy, almost warm smile. "He's saying I'm taller. And prettier."The bench erupted in laughter, even Yamaguchi choking on his water.
On the other side of the court, Nekoma's bench was much quieter — but the air wasn't heavy, it was… calculating. Kenma sat hunched, fanning himself with a stat sheet, eyes drifting somewhere distant. Kuroo was talking low to Nekomata, one hand gesturing toward Akira's spot in the rotation.
"We can't shut him down entirely, so we make him work," Kuroo said. "Drag him into long rallies. Make him pass first, then attack. Wear him out."Nekomata smirked, eyes narrowing. "You're assuming he tires like a normal player."
Oikawa's voice cut in from the stands, just loud enough for them to hear:"He doesn't, by the way."Kuroo shot a glance over his shoulder. "Noted, Oikawa."Oikawa just waved, his grin infuriatingly casual.
Coach Ukai leaned back against the bench rail, arms folded. "Don't get complacent. They'll change their tempo. Kenma's not the type to run the same patterns twice."Akira nodded, pushing damp silver hair back from his forehead. "Then I'll change mine twice as fast."Ukai's gaze sharpened. "And Kageyama — keep reading Kenma's hands. You'll start to pick up the rhythm."Kageyama gave the smallest nod, eyes already fixed on Nekoma's side like he was memorizing every movement.
Aya, from the sidelines, took a sip of her sports drink, catching Yaku's eyes across the court. The Nekoma libero smirked and shook his head in disbelief — a silent, What did you feed that silver-haired guy? Aya smirked back without answering.
The scoreboard reset to 0–0. The crowd murmured in anticipation, banners waving, the echo of the first set still hanging in the air. Nekoma's alumni leaned forward in the stands, whispering about "that Karasuno defense" and "the silver ace," while across the aisle, Karasuno's old guard puffed their chests with pride.
And above it all, Oikawa stretched his legs out, nudging Aya with his knee."Round two's coming," he said, eyes never leaving the court. "This is where it gets fun."
The teams switched sides, sneakers squeaking against the polished wood, the familiar sound of knee pads being adjusted and fingers being taped filling the short lull. Nekoma's players didn't look rattled, not exactly. It was more like they'd been dealt a puzzle and were now quietly, obsessively rearranging the pieces.
Kenma stood at the net for a moment, eyes fixed on Akira. His head tilted slightly, not in challenge, but in quiet analysis. Kuroo leaned over, smirking."What's the read?"Kenma shrugged. "He's annoying."Kuroo chuckled. "In what way?"Kenma's eyes tracked Akira as the silver-haired first-year lazily stretched, his expression almost bored — except his movements were precise, economical."In the way that he never plays the same twice," Kenma murmured. "And he's… hiding stuff. He hasn't even shown his real timing yet."
Back on Karasuno's bench, Akira flicked open his water bottle and sat with his knees spread, elbows on them, sipping like there was no rush at all. Hinata was buzzing next to him, practically talking to himself."If they start reading my quicks, then I'll—""—Then we'll change the angle." Akira cut in smoothly, not even looking at him. "Trust Kageyama. He's already watching Kenma's hands. And if they push me into defense, I'll return the favor on serve."Hinata blinked, then grinned. "Ohhh… that's the demon thing again, right?"Akira tilted his head, the corner of his mouth lifting. "Not yet. I'll start with angel."
Kageyama was silent, but his gaze flickered toward Akira — a rare acknowledgment. Ukai caught it immediately and smirked. "That's good. Keep reading each other. Kenma's dangerous, but if you make him work, he's beatable."
On Nekoma's side, Yaku was stretching his calves when he spotted Nishinoya grinning at him from across the court. Noya gave an exaggerated thumbs-up, mouthing, Try to dig THAT guy's spikes, and pointing at Akira. Yaku rolled his eyes, then called over to Kenma."Hey, if the silver wall comes at me, I'm sending it straight back!"Kenma, without looking up from tying his shoe, said, "No, you're sending it to me. And I'll send it somewhere he isn't."
The crowd's chatter swelled again. Nekoma's alumni were recalling matches from decades past, marveling at how the teams hadn't faced in years yet still felt like natural rivals. Karasuno's ex-players were leaning on the railing, pointing out the tiny shifts in rotation, the way Akira positioned himself slightly off the net, baiting the block.
Oikawa sat forward now, elbows on his knees, his eyes sharper. Aya glanced at him."You're watching him like a hawk.""He's my little brother," Oikawa replied simply, his voice low but fond. "And I know exactly when he's about to stop holding back."
The whistle blew for the start of the second set. The gym's hum turned electric. Both coaches stood at the same time, their voices overlapping across the court:"Let's start the second!"And just like that — every player's eyes sharpened, bodies shifting into motion.