The stadium lobby was buzzing like an overcharged beehive. Posters of each Miyagi powerhouse plastered the walls—Karasuno's revived black wings, Aoba Johsai's pristine teal, Shiratorizawa's imperial purple, Date Tech's iron-gray—and at the heart of it, the players themselves moved through the crowd, magnets for every glance.
Akira stood in Karasuno's tracksuit, his silver hair catching the light like a blade. Beside him, Hinata bounced on his toes, eyes darting between the towering figures from other teams. And walking toward them with the swagger of a man who thought the entire gym was his runway—Oikawa Tōru.
Right between them, somehow looking like she owned the place more than either ace, was Izumi Tōru—the youngest of the three. She had Oikawa's smirk, Akira's sharp blue eyes, and a knack for instigating chaos.
"Oh look," Izumi drawled, stepping between her brothers, "it's Miyagi's drama kings. And they said only one of you could be the best-looking in the family."
Oikawa placed a hand over his heart. "It's obviously me. The number one setter, the—"
"—guy who's about to lose to me again," Akira cut in with a lazy grin.
Izumi's grin widened. "You both talk big. But if you choke in the first round, I'm switching my support to Shiratorizawa."
Oikawa's jaw dropped. "You wouldn't."
Akira leaned down to her level, mock-whispering, "She would."
Before the sibling squabble could escalate, a shadow loomed over them. Ushijima Wakatoshi had arrived—calm, broad-shouldered, and radiating that quiet, immovable confidence that made other players instinctively straighten their posture.
"Akira. Oikawa," he said simply, his voice like a judge announcing a verdict.
The tension in the air thickened instantly. Oikawa's easy smile stiffened, Akira's grin sharpened.
"You've both made it here," Ushijima continued, "but only one of you will face us in the finals."
"Wrong," Akira replied smoothly, stepping forward. "The finals will be me crushing you. Whether Seijoh makes it or not, I'm sending you home with bruises and regret."
Oikawa gave a faux gasp. "Excuse me? Are you forgetting I nearly beat him last year?"
Ushijima's eyes didn't waver. "Nearly is still losing."
Izumi clasped her hands together dramatically. "Boys, boys… why don't you settle it right here? There's a nice open space in the parking lot—"
"Izumi." Both brothers snapped in unison.
She just grinned, clearly pleased with herself.
From nearby, Date Tech's block trio—Koganegawa, Moniwa, and Aone—watched the exchange like spectators at a pro wrestling promo. Koganegawa whispered to Moniwa, "Do you think they're actually related? They look like a sports manga crossover."
Karasuno's manager Aya sidled up to Akira, lowering her voice. "Your sister's terrifying. I like her."
Hinata, meanwhile, was vibrating from the sheer energy in the room. "This is like… like when all the bosses meet in a video game cutscene before the big battle!"
Kageyama frowned. "What game has this many loud people?"
As the bracket announcements began over the PA system, the air thickened even more. The draw was brutal: Karasuno would have to go through Date Tech, then Seijoh, then Shiratorizawa if they wanted the title. The crowd roared at the tension baked into the lineup.
Oikawa smirked across the hall at Akira. "Guess I'll see you in the semifinals."
Akira's eyes gleamed. "And I'll see you lose there."
Izumi clapped her hands once, delighted. "Perfect! I get three matches to watch you both suffer before I decide who's my favorite."
And with that, the siblings walked off in three different directions, all equally determined to come out on top—while somewhere in the crowd, the entire volleyball community of Miyagi buzzed with anticipation for the storm that was about to hit the Inter-High.