The squeak of sneakers was fading into the echo of bouncing balls as Karasuno wrapped up their evening drills. Akira was leaning against the wall, towel draped lazily around his neck, eyes following Hinata and Kageyama as they bickered over something about the last quick set.
Nishinoya came jogging over, a grin that could only mean trouble plastered on his face. "Hey, Akira—Hinata—you guys ever hear of Asahi Azumane?"
Akira tilted his head, silver hair catching the faint light of the gym. "Nope. Who's that? Another setter?"
Nishinoya's grin widened like a cat ready to pounce. "Our ace."
Hinata's head whipped around. "Ace? Wait, you guys have an ace? Where is he?! Why isn't he here?! I've been dying to meet him!"
"Yeah," Tanaka cut in, voice booming, "our ace… who quit."
Akira's lazy posture straightened instantly. "He quit? Why? Don't tell me he's injured—"
"Nope," Nishinoya said, almost sing-song. "He's… complicated."
Yamaguchi nodded hesitantly. "He's… scary-looking but actually shy? It's… hard to explain."
Akira's brows furrowed. "You're telling me Karasuno has a missing ace—right now—and nobody bothered to go drag him back?"
Kageyama, still holding the ball, muttered, "We've tried. He won't come."
Akira stared for a beat, then tossed his towel onto the bench. "Alright. Let's go find him. Now."
Several people spoke at once—"Wait, practice isn't over—""He doesn't like being bothered—""You don't even know where he lives—"
Akira was already walking toward the exit, long strides confident. "Figure it out on the way."
Hinata practically bounced after him. "I'm coming too! If he's the ace, I need to see him in action! Bet he's huge, right?!"
Daichi finally stepped in, crossing his arms. "You're not going anywhere tonight. We'll… talk about Asahi later."
Akira stopped, glanced over his shoulder, and gave Daichi a faint, knowing smile. "Fine. But tomorrow—he's ours."
Hinata pumped his fist. "Yeah! Team Find-the-Ace starts tomorrow morning!"
Later, as practice resumed, Akira lingered at the back of the court, watching Hinata and Kageyama's next quick attempt. It was fast—blindingly fast—but Hinata's eyes were shut tight in midair. The spike slammed into the floor, but Akira's expression didn't change.
When they reset, he walked over, flipping the ball in his hands. "You're fast," he said to Hinata, "but you're not looking."
Hinata blinked. "Huh? The quick doesn't work if I'm thinking—"
"It's not thinking. It's seeing. The court's wide open every time you jump. But you're playing like you only know one spot to hit."
Kageyama frowned. "That's my set—"
Akira cut him off with a smirk. "And you—you're locking him into that one spot. A setter's job isn't to show off speed—it's to give the hitter the choice. You're driving the car, but right now you're not letting him touch the wheel."
Kageyama's eyes narrowed just a little, but there was a flicker of curiosity there. "Then… how?"
Akira tossed him the ball. "Set it again. And this time—Hinata, keep your eyes open. Just once. Doesn't matter if you miss. See the block, see the defense, and choose."
Hinata nodded, crouched low. The toss went up, Kageyama's fingers snapping into the perfect quick set, and Hinata launched. His eyes stayed open. For the first time, he saw Yamaguchi shifting to cover line, saw the block leaning cross—he tilted his wrist, and the ball slammed into untouched floor.
The sound cracked through the gym.
Hinata landed, eyes wide. "I—I saw it!"
Akira grinned, stepping back. "Good. Now do it until it's second nature."
Kageyama looked at Hinata, then at Akira. "…Tch. Fine. Let's go again."
And for the rest of practice, the air shifted—Karasuno's future quick was no longer blind.