Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hinata Shoyo’s death didn’t come as a surprise to anyone who had followed his life closely—not that anyone really had. The world doesn’t pause for the small lives it loses. It mourns briefly, remembers faintly, then moves on. But for the people who mattered, the ones who had laughed, fought, and dreamed alongside him, it was the kind of loss that would leave a quiet ache for years to come.

Two days before his death, though, the ache hadn’t set in yet. The only thing that existed was laughter.

---
The clock on Hinata’s laptop glowed faintly: 10:27 PM. The karasuno first-years (third years) group chat had been unusually active that day, filled with reminders from Yamaguchi about their upcoming reunion meet-up, sarcastic remarks from Tsukishima, and Kageyama chiming in at odd intervals with blunt retorts. It was rare that they all managed to align their schedules for a proper video call. Hinata hadn’t expected much when Yamaguchi had casually thrown out the suggestion that morning.

But here they were, video screens aligned in neat rows, voices overlapping as they joked and reminisced.

“This is stupid,” Tsukishima muttered, leaning back in his chair. His face, as always, was framed by the signature blonde hair and perpetual scowl. “Why are we doing this again?”

“Because Yamaguchi begged,” Kageyama said flatly.

“I didn’t beg,” Yamaguchi countered, though his sheepish grin betrayed him.

“Yachi couldn’t make it,” Hinata added, a slight pout forming on his lips. “Something about finalizing her thesis. She said she’d join next time, though!”

“I’m surprised you even managed to figure out how to join the call,” Tsukishima said, smirking slightly.

“Hey!” Hinata exclaimed. “I’m not that bad with technology!”

“You had to ask me how to mute yourself last time,” Kageyama pointed out bluntly.

“That was a glitch!”

“Sure it was.”

Laughter rippled through the group as Hinata flailed, trying to defend himself against the relentless teasing.

As the call wore on, the teasing ebbed into something softer. They talked about old matches, about Yamaguchi’s plans to work in an electronics company, about Tsukishima’s position as a middle blocker for the Sendai Frogs—a Division 2 team within the V League—and about Kageyama’s training with the national team.

Hinata listened more than he spoke, a small smile playing on his lips as his friends bickered and bantered. There was a strange warmth in his chest, one that he couldn’t quite place.

“Do you guys ever think about...what’s next?” he asked suddenly, cutting through the easy flow of conversation.

The group went quiet.

“What do you mean?” Yamaguchi asked after a moment, his tone cautious.

“I don’t know,” Hinata said, scratching the back of his head. “Just...like, where we’ll all be in a few years. If we’ll still talk like this. If we’ll still see each other.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Kageyama said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “Of course we will.”

“Yeah,” Yamaguchi agreed. “We’ll probably be old and grumpy, though.”

“You mean you’ll be old and grumpy,” Tsukishima corrected.

Yamaguchi rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

Hinata laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “I hope so,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I hope we all stay like this.”

The call stretched late into the night, their voices growing softer as exhaustion crept in.

“I should go,” Yamaguchi said eventually, stifling a yawn. “Got an early morning tomorrow.”

“Same here,” Kageyama added.

“Try not to embarrass yourself,” Tsukishima said, earning an eye-roll from Kageyama in response.

Hinata didn’t say much as they all logged off one by one, leaving the screen empty except for his own face. He stared at his reflection for a long moment, his mind turning over the conversation.

He didn’t know why, but a part of him felt like that had been goodbye. The usual buzz of his teammates and the world outside had fallen away, leaving only his thoughts to consume him.

He grabbed his phone, quietly remained in his position, staring at the screen in silence. No plans of ever turning it on.

His bones ached—a dull, persistent ache that he couldn’t shake off. It had been like this for months now, ever since he’d been diagnosed with osteoporosis. At first, it was just a minor inconvenience, a slight pain here or there, but now it was becoming unbearable. It had been hard to ignore, especially since he was still playing professional volleyball, but it was a constant reminder that his body wasn’t what it used to be.

The video call had been the highlight of his week. Kageyama, Yamaguchi, and even the ever-sarcastic Tsukishima had all gathered in a virtual space, just like they used to in high school. Their faces were familiar, even if time had changed them all. The conversation had been light, filled with teasing and nostalgic chatter. For once, there were no arguments or bickering. They had talked peacefully for three hours, sharing memories of their days at Karasuno, laughing at their foolish antics.

But beneath that lightheartedness, Hinata had felt it—a deep sense of foreboding, as though something was wrong. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was a quiet panic rising in his chest. He just couldn't understand why?

_____
Two days later, Hinata Shoyo died in a car crash. Hinata had left his apartment that morning, intending to meet up with a few of his old teammates for a casual lunch. He had just crossed the street when the world tilted.

It started with a sudden sharp pain in his leg—something akin to a cramp, but much worse. He staggered, leaning against a nearby car for support, but the pain only intensified. His vision blurred, and the next thing he knew, his bones gave way beneath him. He collapsed to the ground, his body unable to handle the strain anymore.

There was no warning, no second chance.

The news hit his friends like a freight train. Yamaguchi was the first to hear, Yachi calling him in tears. Tsukishima, for once, was silent when Yamaguchi told him, his usual sarcastic veneer stripped away. Kageyama didn’t believe it at first, calling Hinata’s phone over and over, his calls going straight to voicemail.

They didn’t speak much at the funeral, each of them lost in their own grief. But in the quiet moments, they all found themselves thinking back to that last call, to the sound of Hinata’s laughter.

It hurts. Kageyama and Tsukishima tried to hold the tears in but they just can't. All they knew was that they had lost something irreplaceable.

Chapter Text

Hinata woke with a jolt, his heart racing as though he'd just sprinted a mile. His breath came in quick gasps, and his body felt clammy with sweat. Alive! He was alive. Relief coursed through him, warm and comforting. Whatever he had just been through—it felt vivid, almost suffocating. Yet, it was just a dream, wasn’t it? At least, that’s what he told himself.

But as the haze of sleep cleared, he noticed something strange. His arms.

They were shorter, thinner, almost childlike. He blinked rapidly and held them up for inspection, his mind struggling to make sense of what he was seeing.

“Wait… What the…?” His voice trailed off as his surroundings began to register.

The room was wrong. Too big. Too colorful. Too… familiar. He slowly looked around, his heart sinking further with every detail he took in. Soft blue wallpaper with peeling edges near the corners, the tiny shelf crammed with action figures, and the worn-out volleyball sitting in the corner—it was his childhood bedroom.

“What is going on?” Hinata whispered, panic bubbling in his chest.

He clambered out of bed, his movements clumsy and awkward as he tried to adjust to his smaller frame. The bed, the one he remembered outgrowing years ago, now felt massive beneath him.

“Am I… am I back in my childhood?”

The idea seemed impossible, absurd even. Yet everything around him screamed otherwise. His tiny feet padded across the floor, and as he caught sight of himself in the mirror, his breath hitched.

Staring back at him was his younger self, no older than seven or eight. His hair was wild and untamed, his cheeks still round with baby fat. He touched his face, the reflection copying his every move, and his heart raced.

“This can’t be real,” he muttered, stepping back from the mirror.

A knock at the door shattered his thoughts.

“Shoyo, are you awake yet?”

The voice was unmistakable. His mother’s voice. Young, vibrant, and alive.

Hinata froze. For a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t think. His mother was standing right outside his door. The last memory he had of her was from her later years, her hair streaked with gray, her face lined with wisdom and love. But the voice he heard now belonged to the version of her he had known as a child.

“Yeah…” he called out hesitantly, his voice cracking slightly as he tried to respond.

The door creaked open, and there she was. His mother, young and full of life, with the same warm smile that always made him feel safe.

“Good morning, Shoyo!” she chirped. “You’re up early today. Are you excited for school?”

Hinata stared at her, unable to speak for a moment. The sight of her, so vibrant and healthy, made his chest ache.

“Yeah, Mom. Maybe,” he managed to say, though the words felt foreign on his tongue.

She tilted her head, giving him a curious look, but didn’t press him. “Well, come down soon. Breakfast is ready!”

She left, closing the door behind her, and Hinata sank onto the bed. His hands trembled as he held them in front of him, his mind racing. The memory of his death—sharp, vivid, and cruel—was still fresh. He had died. He was sure of it. So why was he here, back in his childhood?

That’s when he noticed it.

A faint, glowing mark on his wrist. A tattoo-like symbol, the number 8. He stared at it, running his fingers over it, trying to make sense of what it meant.

“Why do I have this?” he whispered, his voice shaking.

“Shoyo?” His mother’s voice called out again, making him jump. “Is something wrong? What are you looking at?”

He glanced at the door, then back at his wrist. “Uh… Mom! There’s a number on my wrist! Look!”

When she entered the room again, her brows furrowed in confusion. She squinted at his outstretched arm. “What number? I don’t see anything.”

Hinata’s heart sank. “It’s right here!” he insisted, pointing at the glowing mark.

His mother sighed, rubbing her temples. “Sweetie, I think you’re imagining things. Maybe you’re still half-asleep. Come downstairs and eat. You’ll feel better after breakfast.”

Hinata stared at her for a long moment, then back at the mark. It was still there, clear as day to him, but apparently invisible to anyone else.

“Okay…” he murmured, following her out of the room.

---

The days passed in a surreal blur. His routine, so familiar and yet so strange, unfolded as though nothing was out of the ordinary. He woke up, ate breakfast with his family, went to school, and came home by noon. It was exactly how he remembered his elementary school years.

At first, the weight of what had happened consumed him. He had died, painfully and unfairly, only to wake up here, years in the past. He spent sleepless nights trying to piece together the why and how of it all, but no answers came.

Slowly, though, he began to accept his situation. This was a second chance. A chance to do things differently. To live better, stronger, and smarter.

The first thing he did was beg his mother to let him drink more milk.

“Five cartons a day!” he declared one morning, his face serious. “I need it for my bones!”

His mother laughed, thinking it was just another of his wild ideas, but he was relentless. He knew that every bit of calcium would help him grow taller and stronger this time around.

In exchange, he promised to study harder. And he did. Every night, he pored over his textbooks, even sneaking in advanced materials that he knew he’d need in the future. He worked tirelessly, determined to use his knowledge of the future to his advantage.

By the time he reached his last year of elementary school, the results were undeniable. He was taller than before, a fact that filled him with pride. His academic efforts paid off too, earning him top rankings in his class.

“First place?” his mother exclaimed one evening, her eyes shining with pride. “That’s amazing, Shoyo!”

He beamed at her, though guilt gnawed at the edges of his happiness. He knew his achievements weren’t entirely fair—his future knowledge gave him an edge his classmates couldn’t compete with.

Middle school brought new challenges. Determined to pursue volleyball with everything he had, he enrolled in a school with a strong program, leaving his childhood friends behind. It was bittersweet, but he knew it was necessary for his dreams.

His hard work paid off, and he quickly became a key player on his team. But the road wasn’t without its dangers. Accidents seemed to follow him, each one more severe than the last.

And then, during a tournament match, it happened. A collision, a fall, and a sharp, unbearable pain.

The world faded to black.

---

When Hinata opened his eyes again, he was back in his childhood room.

This time, the number on his wrist had changed.

It was 7.

And he understood. This wasn’t just a second chance. It was a countdown.

And he was running out of time.

Chapter Text

Waking up, he gasped for air like a drowning man. The feeling was suffocating, his chest heaving as he desperately tried to fill his lungs. He blinked a few times, letting the view of the ceiling sink in. It was painfully familiar. He was back in his childhood room. Again.

Sitting upright, his eyes scanned the room. Nothing had changed. The worn-out blue curtains, the volleyball on the corner shelf, the peeling poster of a professional player on the wall—it all looked exactly the same. The time on his alarm clock read 6:45 AM. Déjà vu washed over him, suffocating and unsettling.

He hesitated, looking down at his small hands. His fingers trembled as he slowly brought them closer to his face. They were unmistakably his hands—but smaller, pudgier, softer. He was a child again. He was certain now. He had gone back.

His heart sank as his thoughts spiraled. Why? Why am I here again? This wasn’t the first time. No, it was the third. He clenched his fists, suppressing the frustration threatening to boil over.

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts, and his mother’s gentle voice called out, “Shoyo, are you awake yet?”

His throat felt dry. He tried to swallow, forcing himself to speak. “Umm… yeah.”

The door creaked open, and there she was—his mother, wearing the same warm smile he remembered. She looked so young, her face free of the stress lines that had grown deeper in his memories of her.

“Good morning, Shoyo!” she greeted him, her voice bright and cheerful. “You’re up early. Are you excited for school today?” The exact same words as before.

He hesitated, his mind racing. It was like he’d been dropped into a script, every word, every action playing out as it had before. “Yeah… I guess,” he answered reluctantly, his voice barely steady.

She tilted her head slightly, a hint of concern crossing her features, but she didn’t push. “Well, breakfast is ready. Come on down before it gets cold,” she said with a smile before disappearing back into the hallway.

Hinata sat frozen for a moment. His hands instinctively moved to his wrist. He already knew what he would find, yet he had to see it again. Sure enough, the faint, glowing tattoo was still there, just as it had been in the last two loops. This time, however, the number had changed.

"Seven," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the number. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of fear and anger building within him. What does this mean? Is it counting down? How many times will this happen?

He ran his fingers over the glowing mark, the touch doing nothing to ease his unease. “Why?” he whispered to himself. “Why am I in this situation? Why am I experiencing this phenomenon?”

A voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Sho? Is something wrong? What are you looking at?”

He snapped his head toward the doorway, where his mother’s concerned face peeked in. He instinctively pulled his sleeve down over his wrist. “Uh—nothing!” he said quickly, his voice higher-pitched than he intended.

Her frown deepened, but before she could say anything more, Hinata blurted out, “I-is breakfast ready?”

The question seemed to distract her. She smiled again. “Yep! Your favorite. Come on.”

---

He followed her downstairs, his steps hesitant. The scent of grilled fish and miso soup wafted through the air, familiar and comforting. Yet, the comfort only added to the weight in his chest.

Sitting at the table, he glanced around the room. His mother hummed softly as she moved about the kitchen. The clock ticked steadily on the wall. Everything was exactly the same.

He picked at his food, his thoughts swirling. Is this a second chance? Or is it a punishment? The question echoed in his mind. This "miracle" didn’t feel like a gift. It felt like a curse.

---

Days passed, and Hinata fell into the same routine. He played the role of the cheerful, energetic boy everyone expected him to be. He smiled, laughed, and joked, hiding the turmoil bubbling beneath the surface. He played soccer with Koji, sometimes went one-on-one in basketball with Izumin, and aced gym class.

But no matter what he did, the tattoo on his wrist was always there, glowing faintly.

Eventually, the years rolled on as they had before. Hinata followed the same path. Having learned that too much changes could lead to death. He acted to discover volleyball again, formed his middle school team, and faced Kitagawa Daiichi’s crushing defeat. He entered Karasuno, met Kageyama, and continued his journey to become "Ninja Shoyo."

Everything played out exactly as it had in his first life. Every victory, every loss, every emotion—he relived it all. By the time he achieved his dream of going to Brazil and becoming a volleyball superstar, he felt hollow.

Was this all there was? he wondered.

Deciding he needed a change, Hinata made a choice. He accepted an invitation to appear on a television show, something he had avoided in his first life.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” he said aloud to himself as he send them an OK.

---
What a way to jinx your life.

Lying on the cold floor, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps, Hinata could only think about how stupid he’d been.

The room was in chaos, people screaming and running in every direction. Smoke filled the air, stinging his eyes and making it harder to breathe. He tried to call out for help, but his voice was weak, barely a whisper.

His vision blurred as he stared at the ceiling. He could feel his life slipping away.

In the distance, he heard frantic voices.

“SHIT! We…accident…killed him! Supposed…host!”

Their words were jumbled, but he understood enough. His death had been a mistake. He was the wrong target.

“Damn my luck,” he whispered, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.

The last thing he heard before everything went dark was someone shouting, “H-hey, he’s awake! Kill him!”

Hinata Shoyo died at the age of 24 in the second time loop.

When he opened his eyes again, the same ceiling greeted him. The same room. The same cursed beginning.

He sat up slowly, his chest tight with frustration.

"Six," he muttered, staring at his wrist.

Now what?

Chapter Text

He wants to laugh, to curse, to scream at the top of his lungs at how cruel life is to him. He wants to rip apart whoever or whatever keeps sending him back. Over and over, he wakes up in the same room, at the same time, and on the same day, only to be forced into a cruel, unrelenting spiral.

In the beginning, he thought it was a chance to right his past mistakes, to live a better life. But he was wrong. No changes, no deviations—those were the unspoken rules of this nightmare. The consequence for breaking them? Death. Always death.

Perhaps, he thought bitterly, it wanted to teach him some lesson he was too blind to see. Maybe it wanted him to understand something important. But no. Every attempt to stray from the set path ended in a violent, merciless death.

Then what’s the point?

Now, he was exhausted. Every ounce of energy had been drained from his body. His limbs refused to move, and his mind, once sharp and determined, felt dull and fractured. Two loops of this unending hell had been enough to crush whatever remained of his fighting spirit. How many more times would he have to live through this nightmare?

And now, here he was, lying in a hospital bed.

He stared at the ceiling with empty eyes, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling his nostrils. His leg—no, that thing attached to him—was useless. As far as Hinata was concerned, it might as well not exist.

---
It had been a simple decision, one driven by instinct rather than thought. He had been walking down the street when he noticed an elderly man fall in the middle of a pedestrian lane. The traffic light had just turned green, and while most cars waited patiently for the man to get up, there was one massive truck that showed no signs of slowing down.

No one moved to help. People stood on the sidelines, either too scared or too indifferent to act.

Hinata acted before he could think. He sprinted toward the man, shouting for him to stay still as he reached out and pushed him out of harm’s way.

For a moment, he thought he had succeeded. The elder was safe. But the sound of screeching tires and blaring horns filled the air, and Hinata had no time to move. The truck didn’t stop.

He felt the impact before he even saw it. The collision crushed him between the truck and a parked car on the side of the street. The pain was blinding, like fire spreading through his entire body. Darkness claimed him before he could process what had happened.

When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was the sterile white walls of the hospital room. The second thing was the overwhelming weightlessness in his legs.

He couldn’t feel them. He couldn’t move them.

His mother had been sitting beside his bed, her hands trembling as she tried to hold back her tears. Natsu stood behind her, her young eyes wide with fear and sadness. When Hinata turned his head to look at her, her lips quivered, and she looked away.

That was what broke him. Not the pain, not the loss of his legs, but the look in his sister’s eyes.

The days that followed were unbearable. His phone buzzed constantly with messages from friends, teammates, and neighbors, all of them expressing their concern. He turned it off. He didn’t want to hear their pity.

Weeks turned into months, and months turned into years. He remained in the hospital, a prisoner of his broken body and shattered spirit. His mother worked herself to the bone, taking on extra shifts to cover the mounting medical bills. Natsu grew quieter, more withdrawn, as time passed.

The light in his eyes, the one that Sugawara had once said could brighten the darkest day, was gone. His cheerfulness, his warmth, his infectious smile—all of it had withered away. Nothing anyone said or did could bring it back.

Hinata had spent so much of his life lifting others, giving them hope when they had none. But now, no one could do the same for him.

---

November 19th, 12:00 AM.

The hospital was silent, the halls empty save for the faint hum of the night shift workers. Hinata had spent the last two days planning this moment.

He wheeled himself to the rooftop, the chill of the night air biting at his skin. Above him, the stars blinked in the vast expanse of the sky, their diamond-like light mocking him. For a brief moment, he felt a flicker of inspiration. Maybe he could live, after all.

No. He shook his head. He had already made up his mind.

Rolling closer to the edge, he glanced down at the city below. The wind tugged at the blanket draped over his legs, and he threw it aside.

“Damn,” he muttered, a bitter smile playing on his lips. “Look how high it is. High enough to end it all. Sweet.”

He gripped the railing, pulling himself up with all the strength he could muster. His useless legs hung beneath him like dead weight, threatening to drag him down.

Twice, he fell back into his chair, cursing under his breath. But on the third try, he managed to hoist himself over the railing. He dangled there for a moment, his arms trembling with the effort.

He looked up at the sky one last time, his breath visible in the cold air. “Please,” he whispered. “Don’t bring me back this time.”

Without hesitation, he let go.

---

November 19th, 12:34 AM.

Hinata Shoyo died. Cause of death: a fatal fall from the rooftop of the hospital. His body was discovered at 4:58 AM.

His friends mourned him. Again.

---
He woke up.

The same room. The same beginning. The same hell.

For a moment, he stared blankly at the ceiling, his mind struggling to process the cruel reality. But as the memories of his last moments came rushing back, a scream began building in his throat, raw and primal. This time, he didn't bother suppressing it.

He screamed until his lungs burned, until the sound tore through his chest and echoed off the walls. His mother rushed into the room, her face pale with worry.

"Shoyo! What's wrong? Are you-"

But he didn't let her finish. He pushed past her, ignoring her desperate cries as he stumbled toward the kitchen. His legs felt weak and unsteady, but adrenaline propelled him forward.

When he reached the counter, his trembling hands grabbed the kitchen knife. Without hesitation, he gripped the handle tightly, pointing the blade toward his chest.

"Shoyo, no!" His mother's voice broke as she ran toward him.

But it was too late. He thrust the blade forward, straight into his heart.

He didn't see the way her face crumpled in despair. He didn't hear the gut-wrenching scream that tore from her throat, nor did he notice the way she collapsed to her knees. He didn't feel the way her heart shattered into pieces as she watched her son end his young life right before her eyes.

She didn't know.

She didn't know the horrors he had endured. The trauma that had plagued him through countless lifetimes. The despair that had hollowed out his soul.

5

He drowned himself in the school pool.

The cold water embraced him, filling his lungs as he sank to the bottom. His body fought instinctively, but his mind had already surrendered. He closed his eyes and let the darkness consume him.

When he woke up, it was the same room. The same beginning.

4

He rode his bike at full speed, his hands gripping the handlebars tightly as he pedaled toward the construction site. The wind whipped against his face, stinging his eyes, but he didn't slow down.

The bulldozer loomed ahead, a massive, immovable force. He veered sharply, crashing into it with all the momentum he could muster.

He felt the impact. The pain. And then, nothing.

But the nothingness didn't last. When he opened his eyes, he was back in that room.

3

He hung himself.

The rope bit into his neck as he kicked away the stool beneath him. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, the crushing pain, the suffocation, the darkness.

He thought it was the end.

But it wasn't.

2

He ran away from home, wandering aimlessly until he stumbled upon the hideout of a notorious gang. People avoided this place like the plague, but Hinata walked right in.

When the gangsters noticed him, he insulted them-mocked them, laughed in their faces, and dared them to lay a hand on him.

They obliged.

Fists, kicks, and blunt objects rained down on him. He didn't fight back. He welcomed the pain, hoping it would finally bring him peace.

It didn't.

1
His last life. His official end. Or so he thought.

He had done everything. Tried every possible way to escape this nightmare. But no matter how many times he died, he always woke up in the same room, at the same time, on the same day.

This time, he thought bitterly, maybe it was different. Maybe this time, he would finally stay dead.

But as he opened his eyes, he knew.

The same ceiling. The same sterile walls. The same damn room.

Hinata let out a bitter laugh, tears streaming down his face as despair wrapped itself around him like a suffocating blanket.

Why won't it end?

Chapter Text

When Hinata Shoyo opened his eyes, he felt the crushing weight of existence press against his chest again. The familiar ceiling, the morning light filtering through the curtains—he was still here. Alive.

But for once, his body didn’t tremble with despair. He didn’t scream. Instead, he sat up slowly, staring at his hands. They were trembling.

This time, the tattoo was gone. The mark that had counted down each life—each tragic failure—was nowhere to be found on his wrist.

Shoyo’s breath hitched. This wasn’t just another loop. This was it. His final chance.

For a brief, terrible moment, the thought of ending it here crossed his mind again. He could slip away before things got worse, before he could hurt anyone else. But then, faint sounds reached his ears.

His mother was humming softly in the kitchen. The clinking of dishes carried through the house. The ordinary, comforting sound grounded him.

Mom.

Memories of his previous lives assaulted him in a wave of guilt and sorrow: her tearful screams as she found his lifeless body, her sobs at his funeral. She’d been forced to endure his loss so many times, and each time, he left her shattered.

How many times did she cry over me?

And then, another memory surfaced. Natsu, his baby sister, clinging to their mother’s legs, asking why Shoyo wasn’t coming back. The weight of their grief was unbearable to him now.

Realizing this, I can’t do that to them again. Not this time.

---
That night, as Hinata lay in bed, his thoughts swirled. Despite his resolve, the suicidal urges lingered, nagging at the edges of his mind. The trauma of the loops didn’t disappear just because he decided to live. It clung to him, whispering doubts.

He thought about sneaking away, finding a way to end it where his mother wouldn’t find him. But when his door creaked open, and his mom appeared with a blanket in hand, those thoughts faltered.

“Shoyo,” she said softly, “why don’t you sleep in my room tonight? You’ve been so quiet lately, and I think you need someone nearby.”

Hinata opened his mouth to protest, but then he stopped. Her face was etched with worry, and he saw the faint tremble in her hands as she clutched the blanket.

She’s scared for me. She doesn't know anything. Yet, she is scared as if she knows something unfortunate will happen.

“Okay, Mom,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

As he settled on the futon beside her bed, she reached out and patted his head. “You’ve been through something, haven’t you?” she asked gently. “You don’t have to tell me, but just know that I’m here, Shoyo. Always.”

Her words broke something inside him. Tears streamed down his face, silent but endless. She didn’t say anything, just continued stroking his hair until he fell asleep.

---

For the first time in years, since he started this hellish loop, Hinata dreamt something good.

He was back at Karasuno, standing on the court of the Nationals. The stadium was massive, the air electric with tension, and the cheers of the crowd reverberated through his entire body. He could feel the familiar thrill coursing through his veins, the kind of excitement that only volleyball could bring him.

The opponent’s setter tossed the ball with practiced precision, sending it hurtling toward their ace. The spiker smashed it with fierce intensity, aiming for Karasuno’s side of the court. The ball spun dangerously, almost deceptively, but Nishinoya—Karasuno's guardian deity—was there to intercept it. The libero read the spin perfectly, sliding across the polished floor and sending the ball high into the air.

"Kageyama!" Nishinoya called as the ball floated into position.

Kageyama was already on the move, sprinting to get under the ball. His expression was calm, calculating. With a fluid motion, he sent the ball flying to Asahi, Karasuno’s ever-reliable ace.

Asahi didn’t hesitate. He soared through the air, his figure towering as he unleashed a devastating spike. The ball powered through the man-block set up to counter him. But even with Asahi’s power, the opponent’s libero managed to dig the ball, sending it spinning back into play.

The opposing team scrambled to recover, their formation briefly in chaos. A wing spiker managed to get under the ball and sent a desperate line shot, attempting to narrowly avoid Tanaka’s block. The ball sailed toward Karasuno’s side. Or so he thought.

“Not today,” Tsukishima muttered under his breath, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. His outstretched hand met the ball in mid-air, slamming it down with a perfectly-timed block.

The opposing captain dove to save the ball, his fingertips brushing it just enough to keep it in play. The Karasuno players shifted seamlessly, eyes locked on the chance ball that was now in their hands.

Kageyama called for the attack, and the team moved in perfect synchronization. The opponent’s blockers froze, confused by the flawless harmony of Karasuno’s movements. They couldn’t read the toss, couldn’t tell where the ball was going. By the time they realized who would take the spike, it was already too late.

Hinata soared through the air, his timing perfectly aligned with Kageyama’s toss. The crowd seemed to hold its breath as he struck the ball with all the power and precision he could muster. It flew past the blockers, too fast for the defenders to react.

“YEAAAHHHHHH!” Hinata and Kageyama screamed, their voices ringing out over the roar of the crowd.

The ball struck the floor, and the whistle blew. Karasuno had won. That final, insane quick had secured the championship trophy.

Their teammates rushed to the court, cheering and laughing as they piled together in a euphoric celebration. Hinata’s heart felt like it would burst from the overwhelming sense of accomplishment and joy. This was everything he had ever dreamed of, the culmination of years of hard work and passion.

For the first time in a long while, Hinata felt truly alive.

---

When he opened his eyes, the dream lingered, vivid and warm in his mind. The morning light filtered through his bedroom window, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t wake up with a pit of despair in his stomach.

There was no crushing fear, no suffocating dread. Instead, he felt a faint but unmistakable flicker of hope. The feeling of discovering your dream. In his case, it was a re-discovery of a dream that was forgotten in the midst of those hellish loops.

If this is my last life, he thought to himself, then, I can probably live it for volleyball. One last time.

It wasn’t just about surviving anymore. It wasn’t about running from the pain or trying to avoid the mistakes that had haunted his countless loops. This time, Hinata wanted to embrace life. To truly live.

He wasn’t doing it just for himself, though. His thoughts drifted to his mother, who had stood by him no matter what, who had cried for him in every timeline as she watched him slip away. The guilt of causing her so much pain weighed heavily on him. And then there was Natsu, his sweet, cheerful little sister who looked up to him. She didn’t deserve to lose her big brother.

And volleyball. Oh, how he had missed volleyball. The sport that once filled his heart with so much joy and excitement. The dream he had clung to so desperately before it was overshadowed by the endless loop. His dream of playing on the biggest stages, of reaching heights he never thought possible—it wasn’t just a fantasy anymore.

The dream he had last night reignited that fire inside him. He could see it so clearly: the thrill of the game, the bond with his teammates, the sheer exhilaration of giving everything he had on the court.

This time, Hinata resolved to fight. To resist fate. To live each day to the fullest, no matter what it cost him. If death came for him, so be it. But it wouldn’t find him cowering in fear.

Not anymore. I’m going to make this life worth it, he promised himself. Even if it kills me, I’m going to live it to the fullest. I won't dance right into your hands.

Chapter Text

That morning, Hinata began putting his plan into action. He set up a rigorous but manageable daily routine, focused on building his strength to prepare himself to train once he reached middle school. Why not train now? Well, first of all he is too weak. The only he had for him going is his natural speed and reflexes. But, his reflexes were results of his polished athleticism after joining various sports. Second, he needs to prepare his body for a rigorous training.

He wasn’t going to overdo it—he had learned the hard way that pushing himself too far could lead to burnout. Instead, he created a balanced schedule of exercises to help him build the foundation he would need for middle school and beyond.

He also developed a strict study plan. Every day, he reviewed the materials he had collected, determined to master the basics before moving on to more advanced topics. By the time he reached middle school, he wanted to be prepared, not just for volleyball, but for the academic challenges as well.

Hinata Shoyo wasn’t just surviving anymore.

He was living.

---
Hinata's pov

“Sho-chan!”
I turned around to see Izumin and Koji waving enthusiastically from the school gates. Their energy was infectious as always, and I couldn’t help but smile. I slowed my pace, waiting for them to catch up.

Koji was the first to speak, throwing an arm around my shoulders as we walked. “Let’s make the most of our three years here, yeah?”

“Of course.” I agreed, nodding.

“So,” Izumin began, shoving his hands into his pockets, “which club are you guys thinking of joining?”

“Basketball, obviously,” Koji answered immediately, puffing out his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Before I could respond, a familiar ringtone cut through the conversation. Koji groaned, rolling his eyes. “That’s mine. Hang on.” He stepped to the side, answering his phone. “Oh, hi Mom. Yeah… uh-huh… got it.”

Izumin chuckled, shaking his head. “Anyway, I’m joining the basketball club. What about you, Sho?”

I didn’t answer right away, keeping my expression neutral. Instead, I gave him a small, a little mischievous smile and picked up my pace. “Who knows? Maybe volleyball.”

The silence that followed was golden. Koji finished his phone call just in time to see Izumin frozen mid-step, mouth hanging open. “Whaaat?” Izumin finally blurted, sprinting to catch up.

Koji looked between us, confused. “What’s going on?”

Izumin threw his hands up dramatically. “Sho says he’s thinking of joining the volleyball club!”

Koji raised an eyebrow. “You mean the non-existent boys’ volleyball club?”

I stopped walking, turning to face them with an amused expression. “I never said I’d join the school’s volleyball club.”

Both of them stared at me as if I’d just claimed the moon was made of cheese.

Izumin tilted his head, blinking rapidly. “Wait. Then… what?”

“It’s simple,” I said, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’ll join a volleyball club outside of school. The rules don’t say I have to join a school club, right?”

Koji groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was dealing with a particularly difficult child. “You’re telling me you’re going to spend your free time playing volleyball with strangers? Sho, come on. Clubs are supposed to help you prepare for the future. You could—”

“I know,” I interrupted, my voice calm but firm. “And I’m not planning to ‘play around.’”

Something in my tone must’ve startled him because he immediately fell silent. Izumin, however, took a step closer, studying my face. “You’re really serious about this, huh?” he asked, his voice soft but curious.

“Of course,” I replied without hesitation. “Volleyball is everything to me. I’m willing to do whatever it takes if it means I can keep playing.”

Koji sighed, crossing his arms. “Fine, fine. But don’t come crying to us when it gets tough.”

I smirked. “Oh, I’ll definitely call you when it gets tough. You’re not getting off that easy.”

Izumin laughed, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “Well, if you’re that determined, I guess we’ve got no choice but to support you. Right, Koji?”

Koji tried to look annoyed but failed miserably, a small smile breaking through. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t drag me into anything crazy.”

“I’ll try,” I teased, waving as we parted ways.

Chapter Text

I made my way to my new classroom, Section A. It was no surprise I’d been placed here—I had scored high on the entrance exams, after all—but it still felt a little lonely without Koji and Izumin around.

The classroom was filled with students who looked just as sharp as their scores implied. Everyone was chatting about their ambitions and plans, but I stayed quiet, observing.

The perks of being in Section A were undeniable. High scorers like me had the privilege of leaving school early to study. For me, it was the perfect cover to train.

After two and a half weeks of searching, I finally found a volleyball training center. It wasn’t ideal—it was filled with college students on break—but it was better than nothing.

The man who greeted me at the center, Coach Aki, looked surprised to see someone my age. “We don’t usually get middle schoolers here,” he admitted. “Most kids around here aren’t interested in volleyball. Are you sure you want to join?”

“Absolutely,” I said without hesitation.

His lips twitched into a small smile. “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Mornings became my sacred time. I woke up early to jog and do conditioning exercises, pushing my body to its limits. At school, I focused on the first 10–15 minutes of lectures to refresh my memory, then spent the rest of the time reviewing drills in my head.

The training center was where I came alive. I spent hours practicing my receives, pouring everything I had into improving.

“Your receives are improving insanely fast,” Coach Aki noted one afternoon. “You’d make an amazing libero.”

His words struck a nerve, but I forced myself to take them as a compliment. “Thanks, Coach. I’m thinking of moving on to serve training next.”

He studied me for a moment, then nodded. “You know, ever since you joined us, I’ve had this strange feeling. You don’t seem like someone who’s here to learn—you’re here to refine what you already know. It’s like you’ve got all the answers and just need a place to practice. Are you some kind of once-in-a-century genius?”

I laughed, though it sounded hollow to my own ears. “I wouldn’t call myself a genius. There’s someone far more talented than me out there.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Someone more talented than you? Now that’s intimidating.”

He continued, almost to himself. “You know, you’ve got this unapproachable vibe. Indifferent, even. It’s a bit intimidating.”

I blinked at him. “Unapproachable? My friends always say I’m bright and friendly.”

Coach Aki stared at me, dumbfounded. “Bright? Friendly? Maybe you and your friends misjudged yourself, or maybe I did. Who knows anymore?”

A ball came flying toward us, and I received it effortlessly, sending it back to the setter with pinpoint accuracy.

“That was perfect. Thanks!” the setter called out.

As we wrapped up for the day, Coach Aki turned to me. “Why don’t you join your school’s volleyball team? You’d gain a lot more experience playing in actual games.”

I shrugged. “There’s no boys’ volleyball club at my school. Besides, if I left here, I wouldn’t have anyone to practice with.”

His expression softened, and he smiled. “Then let me know when you join a high school club. We’ll always be up for a practice match.”

My eyes lit up. “Really? You mean it?”

He laughed. “Of course. Your receives have done wonders for our spikers. It’s only fair to return the favor. Now go home and rest. I’ll handle the cleanup.”

“Thanks...I guess. See you tomorrow, Coach Aki.” I called out as I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.

“Call me Aki,” he yelled after me. “I’m not that old!”

I chuckled lightly, shaking my head as I hopped on my bike. As I pedaled home, I couldn’t help but feel a small spark of hope. Connections like this were just the beginning.

Chapter Text

Three years have passed.

I am now in my third year of middle school. It’s been three long years of practicing and improving—working on my receives, serves, sets, blocks, and, of course, my spikes. With this body, acquiring the level of skill I had in my original timeline will take much longer. Progress felt slower, and the lack of players with the caliber of pro-level Kageyama or Division 2 Tsukishima made improvement feel stagnant. No offense to my current teammates if they can hear my thoughts, but their level of skill isn’t enough to push me further.

Still, I’ve made progress. My receives have reached the level of consistency and precision I once dreamed of. Though my arms and legs still need strengthening, my foundations are solid. I can now deliver an above-average set, though it’s nowhere near the genius-level precision of high school Kageyama. That kid was a monster, honestly. My spikes, however, remain a disappointment. Without setters like Atsumu-san or Kageyama to truly challenge me, I can't improve my full power. The college-level players just don’t have the vision or control to push me to 100%.

On the bright side, my jump serves have excellent control, though I still need to build more power behind them. And my blocking? I’ll give myself credit—it’s good. But, again, it all comes back to needing stronger arms and legs.

Today, I’m heading to a tournament where Kitagawa Daiichi will be participating. It’s the same tournament where I originally lost to Kageyama—my rival, my teammate, and my best friend. The memories of that match sting even now.

I texted Aki to let him know I’ll be missing practice. Izumin and Koji couldn’t come with me either—they’re deep into intense training for their own tournaments. So, I’m going alone. I’m used to it by now.

---

The air around the tournament venue buzzed with excitement. Stalls lined the entrance, selling everything from snacks to team merchandise. I stopped by one of the vendors to grab an ice cream. My eyes scanned the selection.

“Chocolate ice cream… chocolate ice cream… ah, here—”

I bumped into someone as I reached forward. The collision startled us both.

“Sorry about that,” I said quickly, glancing up.

I froze.

Kageyama Tobio.

His expression shifted from mild irritation to confusion as he stared at me like I was an alien that had crash-landed on Earth.

“H-hello? I'm sorry for bumping into you.” I stammered, unsure of what to say. It felt like my brain short-circuited.

“I—it’s fine,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he turned back to the vendor. “Two cartons of milk, please.”

Milk. Still the milk addict, huh?

I shook my head, focusing back on the stall. “Do you have any more chocolate ice cream?” I asked the vendor.

The woman behind the counter shook her head apologetically. “Sorry, we’re all out. We do have vanilla, though.”

“Never mind. I strongly prefer chocolate.”

I heard a sharp scoff behind me. “Haaah? Since when do you have a preferred flavor?”

I turned to find Kageyama giving me a perplexed look. His tone and expression were a mix of confusion and annoyance.

“What the hell?” I muttered under my breath. Why is he reacting like that? Something wasn’t adding up.

And then it clicked.

“Wait a minute,” I said, staring at him intently. “Don’t tell me you… went back too?”

Kageyama tensed. His eyes widened for a split second before narrowing in realization. He looked lost for half a moment before the shock fully registered on his face.

“You… you did too?” he asked slowly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before I could respond, the vendor coughed loudly. “Excuse me, but you’re holding up the line.”

Embarrassed, we quickly moved aside, our awkward exchange drawing a few amused glances from the other customers.

Once we were out of earshot, I wasted no time. “How did you get back? When did you get back? From what timeline? What’s the last thing you remember?” I fired off my questions like rapid spikes, my voice barely concealing my desperation for answers.

“Oi, idiot. Slow down!” Kageyama snapped. He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly trying to process everything. “One at a time. First, I don’t know how I got back. Second, I woke up four days ago during my school’s last day of training camp. Third, I’m not sure what timeline you’re talking about, but I’m from 2024. And last…” He hesitated, his expression darkening. “The last thing I remember is getting hit by a truck after leaving the venue for your… death anniversary.”

My chest tightened at his words. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Hearing him mention my death, even in passing, felt like a heavy weight pressing on my shoulders. But there was something oddly comforting about knowing he had attended my death anniversary. It was proof that, in some timeline, they hadn’t forgotten me.

---

“Oi, Kageyama!” A voice called from across the venue, snapping us both out of our thoughts. One of his teammates was waving him over. “The match is about to start!”

Kageyama glanced back at me. “We’ll talk later,” he said firmly. Then, as if just realizing something, he added, “Wait—why aren’t you participating in the tournament?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, right. Like I’d participate and embarrass myself and my school. No way in hell.”

“You already did that before.”

I glared at him. “Exactly. That’s why I’m acting differently this time—to erase that from history.”

He scoffed and walked off without another word, leaving me standing there with my arms crossed.

Still, seeing him again, knowing he’s here with me, eased some of the stress I’d been carrying. For the first time since this whole mess started, I didn’t feel so alone.

This time, I wasn’t alone in facing this unexpected time travel.

Chapter Text

While watching Kageyama's second match, my phone vibrated, pulling my attention away from the court.

Hoot! Hoot!

I pulled it out, noticing the caller ID: Mom. Quickly pressing the answer button, I brought the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Sho, are you busy right now?"

I glanced back at the court, where the players were preparing for a third set. "Umm... no. Why?"

"Can you take Natsu to her friend's house? Hazama-san is about to give birth and has no one to go with her."

"Hn, I guess I can. Should I come fetch her now?" From the corner of my eye, I saw Kitagawa Daiichi gaining momentum in the game.

"Oh, yes, please. Thank you, Sho. Love you!"

"Love you, too."

The call ended with two beeps. I sighed, slipping my phone back into my pocket. Now, how do I let Kageyama know we’ll need to meet later?

I vaguely remember his number—after all, I’d memorized it multiple times during my loops—but I wasn’t entirely sure of it anymore. The trauma of those endless cycles blurred some memories. Still, I decided to try.

I dialed the first variation I could recall. The line connected after a few rings.

"Hello? Who's this?"

"Hello? Umm, is this Kageyama Tobio's number?"

"Sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong number."

"Ah! I'm so sorry for the inconvenience."

Beep Beep.

I redialed, adjusting the numbers slightly, but it didn’t change the outcome.

"You’ve got the wrong number, bud."

"Wrong number. Sorry."

"No. I’m not Kageyama Tobio. Try again."

I gritted my teeth, frustration growing. After several attempts, I tried one final time, muttering a silent prayer.

The phone rang, and after a few moments, a voice answered.

"Yes, hello?"

"Is this Kageyama Tobio?"

"That’s right. This is Kageyama’s phone, but he’s in an important match right now. How may I help you?"

Relief washed over me. "Please tell him to call me back using this number. My name is Hinata Shoyo. Let him know we’ll meet later at the usual store. I have to go somewhere."

"Understood. I’ll make sure to relay the message, Hinata-san."

"Thank you." I ended the call, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

I grabbed my bike from the rack and pedaled home, my thoughts racing faster than my legs.

Kageyama’s here. If he’s here, then…

"Does that mean Yachi, Yamaguchi, and Tsukishima are here too?" I murmured. Doubt tried to creep in, telling me it wasn’t possible, but I shook it off.

"There’s no way they’re not," I whispered firmly. "I just know it."

---

I arrived home, parking my bike in its usual spot. "Natsu!" I called out. "Are you ready to go?"

"Big brother? Yes, I’m ready!" My little sister stepped out wearing a white dress and a small backpack. She looked absolutely adorable.

I picked her up and began walking toward her friend’s house. I’d considered letting her ride on my bike, but since I didn’t have a proper seat for her, walking was the safer option. Besides, her friend’s house was only about two miles away—a manageable distance.

---

When we arrived, Ichika’s mom greeted us warmly. "Thank you, Hinata-kun. I’ll take good care of Natsu. You can pick her up around 4:30."

I crouched down to Natsu’s level. "Have fun, okay?"

"Yes, big brother!" she chirped, her enthusiasm infectious.

"Bye, Natsu. Bye, Higarashi-san."

As I left, my phone buzzed again. I glanced at the screen—it was a text from Kageyama.

"I met the beanpole and Yamaguchi. We agreed to meet up at Ukai’s store tonight at 5 PM. Are you free?"

I stared at the message for a moment. So, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were here too. It made sense they’d want to meet—they were probably as confused as I had been during my first loop.

---

At home, I took a quick shower and changed into a pair of baggy pants and a loose white sweatshirt layered under a cyan shirt. I added a silver earring to the hole in my right ear—a result of my irrational action after poking it with a safety pin. It's a habit I’d developed as a way to ground myself when the weight of the loops became unbearable.

I checked my wallet, ensuring I had enough money. Over the years, I’d saved diligently, setting aside half my lunch money and doing part-time jobs (though I had to quit when Mom found out). My savings were modest but enough for essentials.

I headed to the biggest store in the prefecture, buying knee pads, volleyball shoes, and training gear. For too long, I’d been practicing in my P.E. uniform. It was time for an upgrade. After picking up a new training bag and a volleyball, I returned home.

---

By the time I arrived, Mom was back as well. She noticed the bags in my hands. "Shopping, Sho?"

"Yeah," I replied, carrying my things to my room.

She called out again before I could leave. "Sho, I’ll pick up Natsu. You should rest."

"Actually, is it okay if I head to Sakanoshita? I’m meeting some friends."

Her brows furrowed slightly. "Izumin and Koji?"

I shook my head. "No, some other friends."

Her confusion was evident. I hadn’t made new friends in years, so this was probably a shock.

"Alright. Just be safe, okay?"

"I will. Thanks, Mom."

Before I could leave, she stopped me again, handing me a small rectangular box.

"What’s this?" I asked, surprised.

"Your father bought it."

I frowned. Inside was an iPhone.

"Why would he buy me a phone?" I muttered.

Mom sighed. "He said it’s so you can analyze matches more easily, even when you’re not home. Honestly, I’ve been refusing his gifts for years, but... we don’t have the means to buy you things like this."

I stared at the phone, conflicted. After a moment, I spoke. "I’ll keep it because you accepted it for me. But, Mom, don’t accept anything from him again. After everything he’s done—leaving us, hiding, running from his responsibilities—he has no place in our lives."

Mom tensed at my words, but she nodded, her expression softening.

"Thanks, Mom. I’ll be back soon."

With that, I headed out, gripping the phone tightly. Tonight, I’d see Kageyama and the others. For the first time in years, I felt a flicker of something I hadn’t in a long time: hope.

Chapter Text

Hinata adjusted the strap of his new training bag on his shoulder as he walked briskly toward Ukai's store. The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, casting a warm orange hue over the streets. His thoughts were focused on the impending reunion with Kageyama, Tsukishima, and Yamaguchi. The idea of seeing them again after what felt like ages filled him with equal parts excitement and unease. As he turned a corner, distracted by his thoughts, he collided with someone smaller and softer than he expected. He stumbled backward and instinctively reached out to steady the person.

“Ah, sorry!” a soft voice exclaimed as he steadied himself.

Hinata blinked, straightening up and glancing at the girl he had nearly tripped over. She was crouched down, fumbling with scattered notebooks and a bag that looked far too heavy for her frame. He frowned slightly, recognizing her face immediately.

“Yachi?” he almost blurted out, but he managed to stop himself just in time, replacing the words with a series of awkward, incoherent sounds.

Her head snapped up, wide-eyed. “H-Huh?” She turns around, freezing as she took a good look at him. “Wait... Hinata?”

He froze, heart pounding. Her tone was too familiar—almost as if she knew him. “Uh, yeah?” he answered cautiously, unsure of how much to reveal.

Yachi quickly gathered her things, her hands trembling. “I-I’m sorry for getting in your way. I’ll just—”

“No, wait,” Hinata said, stepping back slightly but not letting her escape. “You... You said my name like you already knew me. How?”

“I-I didn’t mean to,” Yachi stammered, clutching her bag tightly. “It was just a guess!”

“A guess?” Hinata frowned. “You recognized me. Admit it.”

Yachi looked around nervously, as if afraid someone might overhear. Her hesitation confirmed it—there was something she wasn’t saying.

“You know me,” Hinata pressed, lowering his voice. “From... before.”

Her eyes widened, and he saw the flicker of understanding in them. She took a shaky step back. “You too?” she whispered, barely audible.

Hinata’s breath caught in his throat. “Wait. Don’t tell me...” He stared at her, searching for confirmation. “You came back too?”

Yachi nodded, her face pale but her lips trembling as she spoke. “Yesterday. I—I died, Hinata. And then I woke up here. In the past.”

His legs felt like jelly as relief washed over him. “I'm glad I'm not alone in this anymore.”

“Wait, how long have you been here?” she asked, clutching her bag strap tightly.

“Since first grade,” Hinata said softly.

“First grade?!” Yachi gasped, her voice rising slightly. “You’ve been here years?”

“Shh!” Hinata hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “Keep your voice down! I didn’t know there’d be others.”

Yachi bit her lip, lowering her voice again. “I didn’t either. I mean, I thought you were... I thought you might just be this timeline’s version of yourself.”

“Same,” Hinata admitted, his shoulders relaxing. “That’s why I wasn’t sure if I should say anything at first. But you just looked so... familiar.”

She nodded, her hands fidgeting nervously. “I thought I was alone in this. But if you’re here, maybe there are others too?”

“Maybe,” Hinata said, his voice steadying. “I’ve been trying to figure that out. But now that I know you’re here, we can go together.”

"To where?"

"The others."

Yachi and I arrived at the meeting location, the faint buzz of chatter reaching our ears as we approached. The others were already waiting, huddled close enough to appear inconspicuous but clearly tense. Their eyes landed on us, and a mix of surprise and realization flickered across their faces. They seemed more surprised by Yachi’s presence than mine. Maybe they thought I’d show up alone. Never mind that. Seeing I had brought Yachi along, they quickly pieced it together: she was one of us.

"If I had known, I would’ve taken my sweet time, too," Tsukishima quipped, his signature smirk in place.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring him, and gratefully accepted the meat buns Yamaguchi handed me. "It wasn’t Hinata’s fault. I bumped into him, and things happened," Yachi defended, her voice soft but resolute as she stood next to me.

"Anyways, let’s go somewhere out of the store owner's earshot," Yamaguchi urged, gesturing for us to move.

As we started walking, Yachi turned back briefly to ask, "Coach didn’t come back?"

"We checked. He didn’t," Tsukishima replied, his gaze focused on the road ahead, his hands buried in his jacket pockets. "Besides, we’re not even sure if he died."

I glanced around, noticing the subtle glances people threw our way as we passed. The realization struck me: our outfits didn’t match the trends of this timeline. Judging by the mix of curious, critical, and admiring looks we were receiving, we might as well have been wearing costumes.

"Are you guys sure we don’t need to adjust our wardrobe?" I asked, Kageyama raising a brow.

"Why?" He questioned instinctively. Right—of course, he wouldn’t care. Kageyama had always been the type to throw on anything and somehow make it look effortlessly good.

"I don’t know about you," Tsukishima chimed in, a teasing edge to his voice, "but I sure as hell won’t wear those tacky outfits."

Yamaguchi and I both snorted at the same time, and the all of us couldn’t help but laugh together. Even Tsukishima let out a quiet snicker, though he quickly masked it with his usual unimpressed expression.

We soon arrived at an open, slightly hidden space near the gym. Kageyama and I used to practice here when we were banned during our first year. The nostalgia hit me like a spike to the chest, but I shook it off. There were more pressing matters.

"So, where do we start?" I asked, trying to break the ice.

Yamaguchi set the tone for the conversation with the first question. "Just to make sure, did all of us die before coming here?"

I answered first. "You already know."

Yachi and Kageyama both nodded as well.

I scanned their faces. Yamaguchi answered, gesturing between himself and Tsukishima. "Yeah, both of us."

"Do you really need to ask that?" Yachi interjected, looking a bit puzzled.

He sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I do. Just to be certain."

Tsukishima took the opportunity to explain, slipping into his typical matter-of-fact tone. "In time travel theories, there are various ways people might go back to the past. One theory suggests people can return without dying, triggered by a strong factor or force."

I nodded in agreement, picking up where he left off. "This force is sometimes a powerful urge to change something—a determination so intense it gnaws at the person, eating them alive. It’s not always death that brings someone back."

"Well," Yamaguchi said, his voice steady but laced with relief, "at least we know all of us came back after dying. It’s safe to assume the others didn’t die."

Kageyama crossed his arms, his expression as serious as ever. "Yet."

We all deadpanned at his unnecessary addition.

"That was unnecessary," I muttered.

"When did you arrive here?" Kageyama asked, tilting his head curiously as he addressed the group.

"Yesterday, actually," she added after a pause. I already knew that, but it was good to hear her confirm it again.

Kageyama followed, his voice calm but firm. "I arrived four days ago."

Yamaguchi nodded before speaking. "I got back in sixth grade," he said, then pointed to Tsukishima. "Tsuki got back a month before middle school started."

Hearing their answers, a collective sigh escaped all of us.

"We can say time travel is random," Yamaguchi said, chuckling nervously.

The sound of his laughter was unsettling, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. Maybe he was still trying to wrap his head around everything.

"So, now what do we do?" Tsukishima asked, his arms crossed as he leaned casually against a nearby post.

"What else?" I said with a small grin. "Win the nationals. After all, despite all the years that have passed, we all still have some kind of regret, don’t we?"

"T-Then you guys must prepare beforehand," Yachi stammered, her voice quivering slightly but filled with determination.

We looked at her, then at each other. She was right. The regret we carried might’ve brought us here, but it was time to act on it. Now, we had a common goal.

"I’ve been aiming for that since the beginning," I said confidently. "I am confident in my skills now."

"You’ll take the wing spiker position then," Yamaguchi said decisively. "You’re better off as an opposite anyway. Middle blocker wastes your talent."

That was Yamaguchi for you—already analyzing the best strategy for our team. That’s our captain right there.

"Wait," Tsukishima said, suddenly realizing something. "You never told us when you got back."

I blinked, looking slightly surprised at the question before responding. "Oh, I got back in the first grade of elementary."

"What did you do then?" Kageyama asked, raising an eyebrow.

Chapter Text

"I studied and gathered study materials for high school. I wanted to make sure those exams wouldn't be interfering with my practice," I explained, a smug smirk playing on my lips. Tsukishima snickered, muttering something along the lines of me finally having a brain. Yamaguchi, ever the supportive friend, whispered under his breath that it should be the other way around.

"What about training?" I put my hands on my hips, raising an eyebrow and fixing my gaze on Kageyama. He looked at me with his usual intense stare, and I could practically see the gears turning in his head. "Don't doubt me, Kageyama. Like I said, I'm confident in my skills this time around. I started practicing properly back in middle school. Had to get my receives, serves, and passes down. Though my spikes... didn't improve as much as I would’ve liked."

Yachi tilted her head slightly, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Why is that?" she asked, her tone soft but intrigued.

"Hinata’s probably the one pulling all the weight," Kageyama said thoughtfully, as if he were working through the puzzle himself. Tsukishima, as always, had his own analysis to offer. "The setter must not have the ability to bring out his full potential, especially if he can't match up to Hinata's skill. The only way to improve for someone like that is to partner with setters like Kageyama, Atsumu, and Oikawa. That's how you push yourself to be better."

"Calling him a monster is a bit... never mind," Yamaguchi chimed in. We all exchanged glances before breaking into soft laughter at his comment.

"Yeah, but you guys know what Kageyama and I went through." I grinned, recalling the past. "But I'm sure Kageyama had his own set of troubles adjusting during the past four days."

Kageyama nodded, a sheepish expression crossing his face for a split second. "It was... hard," he admitted, and I could tell it wasn’t just the training that had been a challenge for him. "Anyone would freak out if they were placed in such an impossible situation. The tournament is only four days away, after all."

Yachi turned her attention to the two of them, the "lamp posts" as I liked to call them. "What about you, Tsukishima-kun and Yamaguchi-kun?" she asked, her tone still curious but more reflective.

Tsukishima shrugged nonchalantly, one hand shoved into his pocket. "Out of habit, I started exercising in the mornings and tried to adjust my body to better suit my blocking techniques. I also practiced setting, receiving, and spiking, but it’s much easier this time around. So I gave it a shot. Akiteru and Mom got suspicious, though. They kept asking me what was going on."

Yamaguchi cleared his throat and straightened up, a little bashful at Tsukishima’s honesty. "At first, I never considered you guys coming back, so I was too scared to change anything. I just did what I used to do, but after Tsukishima returned, I practiced my jump floaters. Since Tsuki was working on all the basics, I decided to join him. Though, I focused mostly on my control. I didn’t want to mess up my serve again like I did back then."

"So, in conclusion," Yachi said, summarizing the situation, "all of you are much better at volleyball than before."

We all nodded in agreement. Yachi’s smile was soft but thoughtful, her gaze far away for a moment as she pondered the changes. "Tsukishima-kun mentioned his family being suspicious of him... what about the rest of you?" she asked, looking up at us with a mix of concern and curiosity.

Kageyama let out a small, almost nervous chuckle, and smiled sheepishly. "Everyone kept giving me strange looks after I tried to adjust to the team during the tournament. After the training camp, we had some rest, so me and my teammates didn’t interact as much. It was a little funny, but I did feel guilty for being such an ass."

We couldn’t hold back our laughter, imagining the awkwardness Kageyama must have experienced. "Mom and Dad were a little surprised when I suddenly stood up to some kids who were trying to bully me," Yamaguchi continued. "My captain instincts just kicked in unconsciously. I even surprised them when I didn’t cower after Uncle Hakuba visited. We actually got closer after I graduated college, but other than that... nothing really out of the ordinary changed."

I shrugged, trying to downplay the awkwardness. "In my case, since I got sent back so far... way back... Mom wasn’t too weirded out. She just chalked it up to a phase kids go through." I could see the others looking at me in envy, but I ignored their gazes.

"You really did change a lot, though," Yachi said softly, her words drifting into the air as she let them sink in. We all heard her, despite her low tone. "More so now that we're here."

"How so?" I asked, though I already had an inkling of where she was going with this.

"You don't speak as loudly or brightly anymore," Yachi said, her voice tinged with confusion. "You just sound..."

"Nonchalant? Is that the word you're looking for?" Yamaguchi offered, his voice soft yet certain. Yachi nodded gratefully.

"Yes, nonchalant. You act nonchalant, like Tsukishima, but a little calmer like Yamaguchi and a bit wilder like Kageyama."

I didn’t know what to say to that. In a way, she was right, but I didn’t think anyone could really understand how much had changed, especially the people who were around me when it all happened. It was a bittersweet thought that lingered in the back of my mind.

The setting sun cast a warm glow across the field, and for a moment, everything felt still, almost peaceful. That was, until Tsukishima, in his usual snarky manner, broke the silence with his annoying comment.

"I guess you also grew taller."

"Come on, grow up, Tsuki," Kageyama teased, his voice playful. We all burst into laughter, not bothering to hold it back. Tsukishima scowled, clearly annoyed, but I was grateful for his comment—it lightened the mood.

We all knew that there was more going on in my head than I let on, but it was better not to discuss it. I could feel the weight of my past self still pressing on me, but I didn’t want to burden anyone with it. The others didn’t push the issue, and I was thankful for that.

"Let’s leave it at that for now," Yachi said, trying to shift the focus. "It’s getting late, and Hinata needs to go home. Did all of you change your numbers?"

Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, and I nodded. Yachi eagerly took our phone numbers and promised to create a group chat for us.

"See you guys next time," she said with a wave. "Let’s practice hard."

---

After that day, we started hanging out more often, spending time together in a way that felt natural, as though no time had passed at all. We even started calling each other by our first names more, instead of the usual titles we’d stuck to in the past. It was a small thing, but it felt significant, like we were shedding the old versions of ourselves and becoming something new.

As Kageyama adjusted to the changes, he took his team to the finals of the tournament. They almost won, but in the end, only Kageyama’s skills were enough to defeat the opposing team, so they lost. We all went to his match to congratulate him, showing our support.

Meanwhile, Yachi made social media accounts for our group—Twitter, Instagram, and even YouTube. She called it Tengu Crows. Our first post was from our first outing as middle schoolers. Of course, no one liked it. But that wasn’t the point. It wasn’t meant to be famous. We simply wanted to have a place to keep our memories, something we could look back on as we moved forward.

Before, we could only reminisce about the past by sharing stories. But now, we could actually watch our journey together.

Spring came, and we attended the Spring High tournament to watch our seniors—our future seniors. It was hard to see them lose their motivation, to see them struggle and be mocked as "flightless crows."

"Let’s take Karasuno to the top. Are you guys all in?" Yamaguchi asked, stretching out his right hand.

We all placed our hands on top of his. No one hesitated. We didn’t expect him to chant our pre-game chant, but he did.

"I’ll smack your asses if you don’t respond. Karasuno, fight!"

We all shouted, "Yes!" in reply, even Yachi.

---

Unbeknownst to us, a certain person overheard our goal, the sound of our chant still echoing in the air. They were surprised to hear us shout it so comfortably, as though we’d always been a team.

"Karasuno will have their revenge," they murmured, the words lingering in the air, full of promise. "Maybe not yet... but I’ll wait and see."

Chapter Text

"I'll be going now! Bye, Mom!" A gray-haired boy called out, adjusting the straps of his school bag as he stepped out into the cool morning air. The early sunlight barely touched the streets, and the faint chirping of birds filled the quiet. The breeze was crisp and refreshing, carrying the promise of spring.

As he walked at a leisurely pace, he couldn't help but muse aloud. "I wonder how many will join us this year..." A small smile tugged at his lips, anticipation evident in his tone. It was the start of a new school year, and as a third-year, he felt both excitement and responsibility weighing on his shoulders. The thought of meeting new teammates gave him the urge to move faster, so he broke into a light jog toward the school.

When he finally reached the familiar gates of Karasuno High School, Sugawara Koushi stopped for a moment, taking in the sight of the students pouring in. The chatter of underclassmen and the sight of first-years looking slightly lost made him chuckle. He stepped into his classroom and placed his bag neatly on his desk before pulling out his phone to check the time.

7:15 AM.

"Daichi’s probably here by now," Sugawara murmured. He pocketed his phone and decided to find his best friend and captain. The hallways were bustling with activity—students laughing, talking, and greeting each other after the break. As he scanned the crowd, his eyes landed on a familiar head of short, brown hair.

"Daichi!" Sugawara called out, raising a hand to wave. The other boy turned, and a smile broke out on his face. "Ah, Suga!"

Sugawara made his way over, and to his delight, he noticed another familiar face standing beside Daichi: Tanaka Ryuunosuke. The boisterous second-year wing spiker was grinning widely, clearly energized by the lively atmosphere. Sugawara felt a wave of gratitude toward the younger player. Tanaka was one of the reasons Karasuno had managed to hold its head high through difficult times. His unyielding determination and passion had been infectious, even when the team faced setbacks.

"I'm glad you're both here. Have you checked which students applied to the volleyball club this year?" Sugawara asked, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

Daichi shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "We’re actually on our way to meet Shimizu right now. She has the application forms."

"Perfect timing, then!" Sugawara said, falling into step with the two. As they walked, a voice interrupted their conversation.

"Daichi, Sugawara."

The trio immediately turned toward the source, and their faces lit up. "Shimizu!" Daichi and Sugawara chorused in unison.

Walking toward them was Shimizu Kiyoko, Karasuno's ever-reliable manager. Her composed demeanor and quiet grace were as familiar as ever, though Sugawara noticed the slight hint of exhaustion on her face—likely from handling the chaos of the new school year.

"Kiyoko-san! You're looking beautiful today!" Tanaka exclaimed enthusiastically, a bit too loudly, his hands clasped dramatically as if praying to her.

Sugawara stifled a laugh as Shimizu walked past Tanaka without so much as a glance. She handed Daichi a small stack of papers, her expression calm as always. "Here," she said simply.

Sugawara and Tanaka immediately leaned closer, trying to catch a glimpse of the forms. Their eyes scanned the names scribbled across the pages, and Sugawara’s jaw dropped when a particular name stood out.

"Kageyama?! As in Kageyama Tobio?!" Sugawara exclaimed, his voice rising in disbelief. "Are you for real?!"

Daichi grinned, his excitement barely contained. "We’re in luck this year! A player like Kageyama joining Karasuno…this is huge!"

Sugawara nodded fervently, his mind already racing with the possibilities. Kageyama was a prodigy—a setter known for his precise and powerful tosses. Having him on the team would be a game-changer.

"And look," Daichi added, his tone softening as he flipped to another form, "we’re also getting a new manager. Good job, Shimizu."

Shimizu gave a small nod, her expression unreadable but her efforts acknowledged. Sugawara beamed at her. "You’re amazing as always, Shimizu. Seriously, where would we be without you?"

Tanaka, who had been quiet for a moment, suddenly broke in. "Kageyama, huh? I bet he’s as scary as they say. But no worries, I’ll show him what real Karasuno spirit looks like!" He pumped a fist in the air, his enthusiasm infectious.

Sugawara couldn’t help but laugh, patting Tanaka on the shoulder. "I’m sure you will, Tanaka. But let’s focus on getting to know him first, alright? We don’t want to scare him off!"

The group shared a laugh as they walked toward the clubroom, their hearts light with anticipation for the season ahead. Sugawara glanced at the forms again, his excitement bubbling up once more.

This year was going to be different. With new talent and renewed determination, Karasuno might finally have a shot at reclaiming its former glory.

Chapter Text

Club Time

As they approached the gym, the familiar atmosphere of the building surrounded them. The clubroom door creaked as Daichi pushed it open, revealing the modest yet comfortable space they called their own. It had been their second home since joining—a place of shared victories, failures, and countless memories.

"Let’s see these new recruits in action," Sugawara said, setting the forms on the table. He picked one up, scanning the details again. "Kageyama Tobio… it’s still hard to believe he picked Karasuno."

Daichi leaned against the table, arms crossed. "It’s a good sign. If a player like him wants to join, it means Karasuno still has a reputation worth betting on. But we can’t slack off. We need to show him that we’re serious about volleyball—that we’re not just a stepping stone."

Shimizu sat on one of the benches, quietly observing the two. Her calm presence grounded the room, as always. Meanwhile, Tanaka had already begun stretching, hyping himself up for what he was certain would be an exciting practice session.

"Hey, Tanaka," Sugawara called out with a teasing grin. "Don’t pull anything today, okay? We need you at full strength if you’re planning to intimidate the first-years."

Tanaka scoffed, flexing dramatically. "What are you talking about? I’m in top shape! No first-year can handle this much power."

Daichi rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his amusement. "Just don’t scare them off before we even see them play."

They changed into their gym clothes and started stretching. The atmosphere was calm and peaceful, but behind that calmness hid the seniors' anticipation and eagerness for the new recruits.

Before long, the sound of hesitant footsteps echoed from outside the gym. The door slid open to reveal a group of students—four boys and one girl, all looking slightly nervous. Among them was a tall figure with sharp eyes and an air of quiet intensity. Sugawara immediately recognized him from the pictures circulating online.

"Holy shit! It's the King of the Court," he muttered under his breath, his curiosity piqued.

Daichi stepped forward, his captainly demeanor taking over. "Welcome to Karasuno’s volleyball club. I’m Daichi Sawamura, the captain. This is Sugawara Koushi, our vice-captain, and that’s Tanaka Ryuunosuke, one of our wing spikers. And this is Shimizu Kiyoko, our team manager."

Each of the recruits introduced themselves in turn. Kageyama’s voice was steady, though there was a hint of tension in his posture. "Hello, I'm Kageyama Tobio. I am a setter."

"Setter, huh?" Sugawara said with a friendly smile. "We’re looking forward to seeing you play." He hadn’t expected such politeness and calmness from the kid.

Another boy stepped forward, his energy vibrant but with an air of coldness and mystery. If it weren’t for his smile, Sugawara might have thought he was apathetic. He spoke loudly, yet there was a quiet intensity in his tone. His personality didn’t quite feel right, in Sugawara's humble opinion.

"I'm Hinata Shoyo. I play as an opposite hitter. Nice to meet you, senpais."

Sugawara exchanged a surprised glance with Daichi.

"An opposite hitter, huh. That’s a position that battles with tall middle blockers. Can you fight them?" Tanaka asked with a sinister smile.

Hinata simply closed his eyes, keeping his smile intact.

"Underestimating him would be your first mistake," said a tall blonde boy wearing glasses.

Sugawara raised a suspicious eyebrow. "And you are?"

"Tsukishima Kei. Middle Blocker."

Daichi nodded, his eyes moving to the green-haired first-year with freckles. "I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi, also a Middle Blocker," the boy said with a smile.

Lastly, the petite girl standing beside Hinata smiled shyly. "My name is Yachi Hitoka. I’d like to apply as your manager."

Sugawara returned her smile and said, "Thank you, Yachi-san. You joining us is a blessing. It’ll ease the workload on our current manager over there. You’ve met her, right?" Yachi nodded.

"Alright," Daichi said, clapping his hands to gather everyone’s attention. "Let’s get started with some warm-ups. After that, we’ll split into teams for a practice match. We want to see what you’ve got."

As the recruits joined the warm-up, Sugawara leaned closer to Daichi. "What do you think?"

Daichi’s eyes followed Kageyama and Hinata. "It’s too early to tell, but if their introductions were any indication, we’re in for an interesting year."

---

The warm-up passed quickly, with the third-years keeping a close eye on the newcomers. Sugawara noticed the first-years doing different warm-up exercises. Hinata and Kageyama, in particular, used routines that Sugawara recognized as effective for warming up all the muscles and joints in their bodies.

When it came time for the practice match, the gym buzzed with excitement. Daichi assigned the teams, pairing Kageyama with Hinata to see how they would function together as a spiker-setter duo. He was curious to see if the two would work well together.

"Oh man, really? Partnering those two?" Yamaguchi muttered. Why? What was wrong? Had Daichi made a mistake?

"Don’t worry, captain. If we lose, then that’s that," Tsukishima reassured him. Though it sounded more like a preemptive declaration of their impending defeat. Now, Daichi wondered if he’d made a mistake placing himself on this team.

From the first serve, it was clear that the recruits had skill—if not outright talent. Yamaguchi and Tsukishima served tricky and well-controlled jump floaters, contrasting the powerful and precise jump serves of Hinata and Kageyama.

It was clear, however, that Hinata and Kageyama were exceptionally talented. Hinata made an impressive effort to receive every spike or serve, although he missed a few. He was extremely fast and agile. And what the f***—his vertical jump was unbelievably high! Never mind being short; if he could jump like that, he might as well leap over the net.

Kageyama, as a setter, was undeniably exceptional. His sets were precise and accurate, and his fast tosses were well-controlled. Sugawara could tell that Kageyama calculated every move he made. His talent paired perfectly with Hinata’s skills as a spiker, creating a synergy that was nothing short of breathtaking.

Yamaguchi and Tsukishima weren’t pushovers, though. The chemistry between the two was undeniable, and it gave them a chance to turn the tables. Yamaguchi, though not as skilled as the others in the basics, displayed surprising thoughtfulness in his sets and spikes, giving his teammates opportunities to shine. His expression shifted during the match, showing a determination that Daichi hadn’t expected.

Tsukishima, true to his position, was a fearsome blocker. His spikes were intelligent and well-aimed, often tricking Hinata. He even taunted Kageyama with setter dumps, successfully breaking the latter’s concentration at times. But with Hinata and Tanaka keeping Kageyama in line, Tsukishima had to get creative to stay ahead.

The match ended with a narrow victory for Kageyama and Hinata, the final score 34–32. Despite the loss, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima had proven themselves formidable opponents.

As the players gathered to cool down, Daichi stood beside Sugawara, watching the recruits interact with Tanaka.

“They’ve got talent,” Sugawara said, his tone thoughtful. “And from the way they act, I’d guess some of them already know each other.”

Daichi nodded. “That’s an advantage. If we can build on that chemistry, we might just make it to Nationals.”

Sugawara couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension. He could see the potential in Kageyama, but that same potential made him uneasy. A nagging thought lingered in his mind: if Karasuno was going to reach new heights, it might mean stepping aside.

For now, though, he let the excitement win. The future looked brighter than it had in years, and he couldn’t wait to see where it would take them.

Chapter Text

Narita's POV

It has been a week since the five first years joined the club. Today, we're holding another practice match to help them get more familiar with how the team operates on the court. The pairings are interesting—or maybe, problematic would be a better word. Yamaguchi and Hinata are on the Black Team, while Kageyama and Tsukishima are on the White Team. Honestly, pairing Kageyama and Tsukishima together feels like a recipe for disaster. They’re constantly bickering, hurling insults at each other, and making snide remarks every chance they get. It’s like oil and water—they just don’t mix.

On the other hand, Yamaguchi and Hinata seem to be doing much better as a pair. They motivate and encourage each other, and it’s obvious they’re focused on communicating with their teammates rather than trying to outdo one another. Watching them, it’s clear they’re working to adapt and mesh with the team’s style.

Ennoshita and Sugawara are also on the Black Team, while Daichi and Tanaka play for the White Team. With these lineups, the match is as intense as ever. What’s strange, though, is how quickly the first years have managed to sync up with our more experienced members. It’s honestly kind of baffling. Are they really that talented, or are they just freakishly good at adapting in a short span of time?

The match is heating up. Hinata steps up for a serve—a jump serve, no less—and he aims it right between Tsukishima and Daichi. If it weren’t for Tsukishima’s sharp understanding of Hinata’s play style, the ball would’ve landed in. Daichi’s an incredible receiver, no doubt about that, but Hinata pulled a wicked move, aiming for the far end of the court. That kid has guts.

“Screw you, Hinata!” Tsukishima curses loudly, surprising me. "I don't play around Tsuki-poo, you know that!" Honestly, I never thought I’d hear Tsukishima yell something like that. Then again, I should’ve expected it—he’s got a sharp tongue to begin with. Kageyama wastes no time retaliating, smashing the ball back to the other side with a vicious line shot.

“Damn, these first years are hella good,” Kinoshita mutters beside me. I nod in agreement. Watching them play is both awe-inspiring and humbling. Hinata and Tsukishima are locked in what feels like their own personal battle, going all out on both offense and defense. Hinata’s versatility is especially impressive—he switches seamlessly between playing as a libero in the back row and a wing spiker in the front. And Tsukishima? He’s the best blocker on the team, hands down. He shuts down almost every spike, except for the ridiculously powerful ones from Hinata, Tanaka, and Kageyama.

Even Yamaguchi, who initially seemed overshadowed by the others, is proving himself to be an invaluable asset. His jump float serves are a nightmare to receive unless you’re Nishinoya. Plus, his receiving skills are solid, likely honed from practicing alongside monster players like Tsukishima and Kageyama. He’s also got a sharp mind, which he uses to outthink opponents midair.

---

Prrrrttttttt!

The whistle blows, signaling the end of the fourth set. White Team claims the victory, taking the first and last sets, while Black Team dominated the second and third. All in all, both sides are evenly matched.

Yachi-san and Shimizu-senpai are already prepared, handing out towels and water bottles as the players head toward the sidelines.

“That was a great match! Let’s do another set!” Tanaka exclaims, his energy seemingly boundless. If Nishinoya were here, he’d definitely be yelling alongside him.

But Tsukishima, ever the teasing prodigy, can’t resist a jab. “You want another failed line shot?”

“What did you say?!” Tanaka fumes, visibly annoyed. Sugawara steps in, patting him on the back.

“Now, now, Tanaka. We all know how Tsukishima is—don’t let him get to you.”

“Tch. He wasn’t even the one stopping me; it was Hinata!”

Tsukishima and Yamaguchi exchange amused smirks, clearly enjoying themselves. Tanaka looks like he’s about to explode when—

BAM!

Takeda-sensei bursts into the gym, tripping over himself and landing face-first on the floor. He raised his head eyes burning with victory.

“I got us a practice match!” he announces.

“That’s amazing, Take-chan!” Tanaka shouts, slapping him on the back with enough force to make Takeda flinch.

With Daichi's and Ennoshita's glares, he quickly corrects himself, laughing nervously, “I—I mean Takeda-sensei…”

Sugawara helps Takeda-sensei up and hands him a water bottle. “Who are we playing against?”

Takeda-sensei, still catching his breath, grins triumphantly. “Aoba Johsai!”

“Really?!”

“You’re not kidding, right?”

“Are you for real?”

The gym erupts into excited chatter, except for the first years, who don’t seem as surprised as the rest of us. Maybe that’s the difference between normal players and geniuses—they don’t overreact.

“Guys, guys, let sensei finish,” Sugawara says, his own excitement barely contained. The gym quiets down as Takeda-sensei straightens up, looking more serious now.

“There’s a catch,” he begins. “Aoba Johsai’s coach requested that Kageyama play as the setter for the entire match.”

“What did you say?!” Tanaka yells again, his voice echoing through the gym.

Sugawara sighs, rubbing his temples. “Tanaka, stop yelling at sensei. It’s not his fault.”

“I’m really sorry,” Takeda-sensei says, bowing slightly. “I tried to negotiate, but they insisted. Unfortunately, we’re not in a position to refuse. I won’t force you to accept the match—it’s entirely up to you.”

“Let’s not accept it,” Tanaka mutters just as Sugawara says, “Let’s accept it.”

“Huh? But Suga-san, you’re our setter!”

Sugawara turns to face the team, his usual warm smile replaced by a determined expression. “Listen, I know it’s not ideal. But this is a chance for Kageyama to grow. If we’re serious about improving as a team, we need to take risks like this. Besides,” he adds, glancing at Kageyama, “this is only for one match. I don't intend to give up my position that easily.”

The gym falls silent as everyone processes Sugawara’s words. Kageyama looks down, his expression unreadable.

Finally, Daichi speaks up, his voice firm. “I agree with Sugawara. Let’s take the match. We’re not just playing for ourselves—we’re playing to get better as a team.”

Kageyama raises his head, determination flickering in his eyes. “If Sugawara-san is fine with it then I’ll do it,” he says.

Tanaka has no choice but to accept. "All right. Let's show those guys who they're up against. We'll prove to them that they made a mistake messing with us!"

With that, we burst into cheers, our earlier doubts replaced by excitement for the upcoming challenge.

"Alright! Let's go back to practice!" Daichi commands clapping his hands.

----

---
Yamaguchi’s POV
Today, we were dismissed earlier than usual. Daichi thought it would be best to give us a chance to rest before tomorrow's big match against Aoba Johsai. Our first match since the five of us came back. Facing them again stirred up mixed feelings.

Oikawa-san, despite being one of our fiercest rivals, played a crucial role in pushing Karasuno forward. He forced us to see the potential we hadn’t yet realized—the importance of absolute trust between teammates, how a setter could bring out the best in any spiker, and countless other lessons we wouldn’t have learned otherwise.

But that doesn’t mean Oikawa made us strong. His contributions, while significant, were just a fraction of what made us who we are now. Our determination, the endless hours of practice, the sacrifices of our coaches and teammates—those were the real reasons behind our growth.

Still, it’s hard not to feel a twinge of excitement and apprehension at the thought of facing him again.

"Yo, cap’n!"

I turned at the sound of Hinata’s voice. He was jogging toward me, waving lazily. His orange hair caught the afternoon sunlight, making him stand out like always.

I rolled my eyes but waved back. "Hinata!"

When he finally reached me, I gave him a light punch on the shoulder. "Stop calling me captain. We never played together in middle school, remember? You’re going to make us look suspicious. I’m not your captain yet, so cut it out."

Hinata huffed, crossing his arms. "It’s not my fault. It’s a habit! We’ve been calling you Captain since we graduated," he muttered, pouting slightly.

I couldn’t help but laugh, ruffling his hair. His expression shifted to one of annoyance, but he didn’t stop me. "Anyway, where’s Yachi? She’s usually the first one to arrive. This is her mom’s old studio, after all."

Hinata shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe she’s running late. She did mention bringing some stuff."

I pulled out my phone, checking her last message in the group chat again:

> Let’s meet up at my mom’s old studio. I already cleaned it up, so all we have to do is decorate it and add some furniture. Bam—secret hideout complete!

Hinata smirked suddenly, his mood brightening. "Where’s Saltyshima?"

I snorted at the nickname. Hinata had a habit of coming up with ridiculous nicknames for Tsukishima, but this one had stuck around for a while.

"I asked if he wanted to come with me, but he refused," I replied. "Said he had something to do."

Hinata clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Tch. I hate waiting unless it’s for volleyball."

"Let’s give them a little more time," I suggested. "They might just be running late."

Hinata didn’t reply, but his shoulders slumped slightly. Over the past few years, he’d become quieter. His usual bright energy and unstoppable enthusiasm had dulled. It wasn’t like him, and it worried me.

"Hey," I started hesitantly, glancing at him. "Are you..."

Hinata tilted his head, his brows furrowing in confusion.

I took a deep breath, summoning the courage to continue. "Is something going on? You’ve been so serious and mad lately."

For a moment, his face was blank. That unreadable expression he’d adopted over the years—it felt intimidating, almost cold. It was like there was a storm brewing beneath his calm exterior.

"What do you mean?" he asked flatly. "I don’t look angry."

I almost backed down. Almost. But Hinata needed someone to reach out to him, and if I didn’t, who would?

"I know something’s wrong, Hinata," I said, my voice soft but firm. "I won’t force you to talk about it, but just know that we’re here for you. All of us."

He stared at me for a long moment before looking away. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but before he could, two familiar voices cut through the tension.

"Stop being so serious. We’re not even in a match," Tsukishima drawled as he approached.

Hinata scoffed, turning to glare at him. "And look who’s late."

Kageyama smirked as he handed Hinata a large box. "Bold of you to assume you got here first. We came early to help Yachi."

"Fuck you," Hinata grumbled, struggling to balance the box. Once he had it stable, he shot Kageyama another glare. "Well, sorry for assuming you were late when no one told us you were running errands!"

"Please don’t fight," Yachi interrupted, stepping between them. "I asked them to help me grab some things from my house, so it’s my fault they weren’t here earlier."

Before Tsukishima could retort, I stepped in. "Why don’t we head inside? There’s a lot to decorate, judging by all these materials. Let’s get started!"

They exchanged glances but nodded reluctantly.

"Great! Yachi?"

She fished a key out of her pocket, unlocked the door, and pushed it open.

The studio was cozy yet surprisingly spacious. The clean wooden floors gleamed under the soft afternoon light filtering through the large windows. The walls were freshly painted white, giving the space a bright and open feel.

To one side, a small kitchen area occupied a corner, complete with a counter, cabinets, and a mini-fridge. A compact bathroom was tucked away near the back, its door slightly ajar. The center of the room held two large sofas and two smaller ones arranged around a brown coffee table. A dining table for six sat nearby, and a TV rack with a medium-sized flat screen stood against one wall. An empty bookshelf waited to be filled with decorations.

"Wow," Hinata breathed, stepping inside. "This is awesome!"

Yachi beamed with pride. "Thanks! I spent the whole morning cleaning it up. Now we just have to add the finishing touches."

We got to work right away. Hinata and Kageyama bickered over where to hang a string of fairy lights, their voices echoing through the room. Tsukishima surprised everyone by helping Yachi arrange books and trinkets on the shelf, though he made plenty of sarcastic comments along the way.

I focused on setting up a small indoor plant in the corner, its green leaves adding a pop of color to the room. Next, I unrolled a cozy rug and positioned it under the coffee table, smoothing out the edges.

"Here, Captain," Hinata teased, handing me a framed poster of Karasuno’s crow logo.

"Stop calling me that," I groaned, taking the frame. After some deliberation, I hung it on the wall near the TV.

Yachi directed us like a conductor, assigning tasks and giving feedback as we worked. By the time we were done, the studio had transformed. The fairy lights cast a warm, golden glow, while the personal touches—like framed photos, throw pillows, and small decorations—made the space feel uniquely ours.

We all stepped back to admire our work.

"Perfect!" Yachi declared, clapping her hands.

Hinata plopped onto one of the large sofas, his face lighting up with a rare smile. "This is officially the coolest secret hideout ever!"

Tsukishima smirked, leaning against the bookshelf. "For once, you’re not completely wrong."

Kageyama muttered something under his breath, but even he seemed impressed.

I couldn’t help but smile. Tomorrow’s match would be tough, but for now, it felt good to just be together, creating something special.

Here's a revised and extended version of the story with corrections to grammar, punctuation, and sentence structure while keeping the original details intact. I've also continued the story as requested:

---

Yachi’s POV
The sun was slowly setting on the horizon, casting a golden glow across the room. We had been decorating for three hours straight and had finally finished. As we waited for our ordered pizza and other snacks to arrive and fill our rumbling tummies—
(Tsukishima: "My tummy’s not rumbling, mind you.")
—I decided to prepare some cold mango juice to refresh our throats.

“Uwah! That was fun!” Hinata exclaimed, his wide grin contagious.

Yamaguchi and I exchanged a glance and smiled, a shared sense of accomplishment between us. The four of us had been worried about Hinata these past few days. His mood had noticeably changed, and although he still smiled and laughed, it wasn’t quite the same as before. We could feel the weight of something unspoken, something that had changed him during the years he had spent alone in this world before we reconnected.

I was the one who suggested this little get-together, hoping it would cheer him up. Even though he hadn’t shared the details of what happened, we trusted that he would tell us when the time was right. For now, we gave him the space he seemed to need, doing our best to be there for him in small ways.

Seeing his genuine smile—a smile that reminded me of the old Hinata who used to light up any room—felt like a victory. He had always been the one to make us smile, so it was nice to be able to return the favor. And what made this moment even more special was how Kageyama and Tsukishima were getting along without their usual bickering.

“You piece of shit!” Kageyama suddenly yelled, breaking the serene atmosphere.

I spoke too soon.

Yamaguchi sighed and moved quickly to calm Kageyama down while also trying to stop Tsukishima from making things worse. Hinata, meanwhile, was practically doubled over in laughter, which only added fuel to the fire as Kageyama turned his wrath on him.

“Don’t let the King catch you, Hinata! He’ll punish you!” Tsukishima teased with a smirk, earning a glare from Kageyama.

“Tsuki, stop it!” Yamaguchi scolded, though his voice was drowned out by Kageyama’s frustrated shouting.

“It’s not my fault his highness can’t handle a little constructive criticism from a lowly peasant,” Tsukishima quipped, pushing his glasses up smugly.

“FYI, your so-called constructive criticism is DEFINITELY NOT constructive—it’s a straight-up insult!” Kageyama snapped.

“Apologies, your highness,” Tsukishima replied with a mocking bow. “This lowly peasant clearly lacks the intellect to understand true constructive criticism. Perhaps you’d care to enlighten me with an example?”

Hinata, ever the instigator, chimed in with a giggle. “Oh, please do, my lord! I’d love to learn as well.”

Kageyama’s face turned a dangerous shade of red. “FINE!” He took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm himself. For a moment, we all held our breath, thinking he might actually deliver a thoughtful response.

“My feedback for you is—YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD, YOU MORON!”

And just like that, the chase resumed, with Kageyama hot on Hinata’s heels while Tsukishima continued to toss sarcastic remarks from the sidelines. The noise in the room built to a deafening crescendo, and I could feel a headache forming.

“GUYS, JUST STOP!” Yamaguchi finally yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos.

The trio froze mid-action, looking sheepishly at the usually mild-mannered Yamaguchi.

“Whew! Good job, Yamaguchi,” I said, rubbing my temples. “That was… exhausting.”

Ding dong!

“Finally! The snacks are here,” I said, springing to my feet. “I’ll get it. Be right back.”

After paying the delivery boy, I brought the food to the table and arranged it neatly. The aroma of pizza and other treats filled the air, and my stomach growled in anticipation.

“Let’s dig in!” I announced, clasping my hands together.

“Ittadakimasu!” we all chimed in unison before diving into the food.

“Wow! This salad is amazing!” Yamaguchi exclaimed, taking another generous bite.

We ate in comfortable silence, occasionally commenting on how delicious the food was. Once we were all full, we slumped onto the sofa, letting the cool evening breeze from the windows wash over us.

As we sat there, basking in the peaceful moment, a thought crossed my mind. “Hey, guys… you realize we’ve been friends for almost 15 years now, right?”

Tsukishima sat up straighter, blinking. “You could say that.”

Kageyama, sitting on my left, stretched his arms lazily. “What about it?”

I groaned, slightly frustrated. “Isn’t it about time we started calling each other by our first names? I mean, sure, we do it sometimes, but we still mostly stick to nicknames or last names. We should’ve been used to it by now!”

Hinata chuckled. “You’re right. I’m totally up for it—though I’m not sure about our two tsundere duos over here.”

Yamaguchi burst into laughter as Kageyama and Tsukishima turned red, glaring at him.

“Go to hell, bastard,” Tsukishima muttered.

“After you,” Hinata shot back with a mock bow.

“So, what do we do now?” Yamaguchi asked after a moment of silence.

I grinned, suddenly feeling inspired. Ignoring their confused looks, I walked over to the shelf and pulled out the camera I had hidden there. “We’re going to post our first-ever vlog! I already have some footage.” I announced, holding the camera triumphantly.

“What?!” Kageyama and Tsukishima exclaimed in unison, their faces painted with shock.

“You’re filming us? Without our knowledge? That’s illegal!” Yamaguchi shouted, though his voice carried more exasperation than actual anger.

I turned to Hinata, who was surprisingly calm, even amused. “Thank you for being the least dramatic about this,” I said, giving him a grateful nod before turning back to the others.

“Just think about it,” I continued. “In the previous timeline, we spent so many years apart. We don’t have any videos to look back on—just memories and a few photos. This time, we can record everything. It’ll be like a gift to our future selves! No more being shy in front of the camera. Let’s capture all our moments together and post them on our account. No one else will watch it anyway, just us.”

Hinata’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I’m in!” he said, his mood instantly lifting.

“Same here,” Yamaguchi added with a grin. “It sounds like fun.”

Kageyama groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine, but don’t make me do anything embarrassing.”

Tsukishima crossed his arms and let out a long-suffering sigh. “This is ridiculous, but whatever. If we’re doing it, let’s get it over with.”

“Great!” I said, holding up the camera. “Now, who wants to do the intro?”

The room fell silent. Everyone suddenly found the floor, the walls, or their snacks incredibly interesting.

“You’re doing it, Yachi,” Hinata declared, pointing at me.

“Wait, what?!” I sputtered, clutching the camera defensively. “No way! I’m behind the camera, not in front of it!”

“You’re the one who came up with this idea,” Tsukishima said smugly, smirking at my panic. “You should take responsibility.”

“Exactly,” Kageyama agreed with a rare look of satisfaction at my predicament. “You can’t make us do it if you’re not willing to.”

Yamaguchi gave me an encouraging smile. “It’s not a bad idea, Yachi. You’d be great at it.”

Hinata leaned closer, his grin widening. “C’mon, Yachi! Think of it as practice for your debut as the next big YouTuber!”

I groaned, feeling the pressure mount. “Fine, but don’t blame me if it’s awkward!”

I set up the camera on a makeshift stand and took a deep breath. “Hello, everyone!” I said, waving awkwardly at the lens. “This is Yachi from Team… uh… Hinata, Yamaguchi, Kageyama, and Tsukishima!”

“Seriously? That’s our name?” Tsukishima interjected dryly from the side.

“Shut up!” I hissed, flailing my hand to shoo him away from the frame. “We’ll figure out the name later!”

“Fine, continue your masterpiece, Spielberg,” he muttered, earning a snicker from Hinata.

I tried again. “We’re just a group of friends documenting our time together! This is the start of something fun, and we hope our future selves will enjoy looking back on these memories. Okay, now let’s introduce everyone!”

I turned the camera toward Hinata, who immediately struck a dramatic pose. “I’m Hinata Shoyo, the greatest volleyball player ever!” he declared with a toothy grin.

Next was Yamaguchi, who waved shyly. “I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi. Nice to meet you!”

Kageyama followed with a curt nod. “I’m Kageyama Tobio. That’s all you need to know.”

And finally, Tsukishima smirked at the camera. “I’m Tsukishima Kei, and I’m only doing this under duress.”

After a few more clips of playful banter and outtakes, we wrapped up the filming for the day. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the room in a warm glow, I felt a sense of accomplishment.

“Let’s call it a day,” I suggested, stretching. “We’ll edit this later.”

Everyone agreed, gathering their things and preparing to leave. But as we packed up, I couldn’t help but notice how quiet Hinata had become. He smiled when we talked to him, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey, Hinata,” Yamaguchi said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine!” Hinata replied quickly, his usual energy returning in an instant. “Why wouldn’t I be? Today was awesome!”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow but didn’t push the issue. “If you say so.”

The walk to my house was filled with light chatter, though I noticed Hinata lagging slightly behind at times. When we finally reached my front door, I turned to the group. “Thanks for walking me home, everyone.”

“Of course,” Yamaguchi said with a smile. “See you tomorrow!”

“Bye, Yachi,” Hinata said, his usual cheerfulness returning as he waved. “Get some rest!”

I watched as they walked away, their silhouettes disappearing into the night. Despite Hinata’s best efforts to hide it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was weighing heavily on his mind.

Chapter Text

The doctor’s words echoed in my mind like a haunting refrain: "You can't play volleyball anymore. Your condition just doesn't allow it." I sat frozen on my hospital bed, my mind too numb to form words, too paralyzed to even feel anger or sorrow. Then, without warning, the world shifted. I blinked, and suddenly I was lying on the same hospital bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. My phone vibrated on the side table, buzzing incessantly with calls I couldn’t bring myself to answer. I didn’t need to look to know it was my teammates, my friends, probably worried sick.

But I couldn’t talk to them. Not like this. Not now.

“Oy! Hinata! You’re zoning out again.”

The voice jolted me back to reality. I blinked, and my surroundings changed again. Now, I was staring at my laptop screen, displaying five small boxes—my teammates in a video call. When did this start? How did I get here?

“Hinata? You still there?” Yamaguchi’s concerned voice came through the speakers.

Just as I opened my mouth to respond, everything went black.

---

A sudden, sharp pain tore through me. It felt as though my insides were being crushed, my bones splintering under some impossible weight. My vision blurred, and I found myself standing amidst a scene of devastation—a crushed car in the middle of a street slick with blood.

I didn’t recognize this place, but my body reacted as though it did. I felt like I was trapped in someone else’s nightmare, a silent scream reverberating in my head. I begged for someone, anyone, to pull me out of this. And then, just like that, it stopped.

The world shifted again, and I was clinging to a railing on a rooftop. My hands were slipping, my strength draining. Where am I? Is this still the hospital? My body gave way, and I plummeted. The moment I hit the ground, it felt like the weight of a meteor crushed me.

No sound escaped my throat, but my mind screamed in agony.

Then came another blink—a knife, cold and sharp, buried deep in my chest. I was sprawled in the kitchen, my mother’s screams piercing through the haze.

The cycle continued: suffocation, beatings, crashes, pain, death, and then…

I woke up.

---

Gasping, I bolted upright in bed, my heart pounding like a drum. My alarm clock beeped furiously beside me, the bright red digits glaring back at me. It was just a dream. No, not just a dream—it was the same nightmare I’d been having for days.

I ran a hand through my sweat-soaked hair, my breathing uneven as I tried to ground myself in the present. This is real. You’re okay. Breathe.

After a long moment of calming myself down, I threw off my blankets and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My body felt heavy as I trudged out of my room, and the moment I saw him sitting at the dining table, my mood soured further. He looked up at me, flashing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Morning, Shoyo,” he said, his voice falsely cheerful.

I didn’t respond, grabbing my breakfast as quickly as I could.

The man who claimed to be my father had reinserted himself into our lives out of nowhere. Legally, there was nothing we could do about it—my mother and he were still married, at least on paper. Japanese law allowed for some level of spousal obligation, even during separation, unless an official divorce was filed. So here he was, acting like he belonged in our home after years of absence.

None of us were comfortable, but we couldn’t tell him to leave. Ever since he came back, I started having these nightmares, and I don't understand how they are connected to him. My suspicion is that it’s because, in the previous timelines, we never met again after I turned three years old.

Mom tiptoed around him, trying to keep the peace. Natsu avoided him altogether. And me? I masked my anger, doubled with the anxiety from the nightmares, with exaggerated nonchalance and a passion for volleyball, focusing all my energy on training.

Last night’s hangout with my teammates had been a brief reprieve. Their laughter, the teasing, and even the vlog project we started—it made me forget. But when we said our goodbyes and I walked through the front door, the weight of reality came crashing back.

---

My mom shot me a worried look but didn’t say anything. I finished eating, got ready, and left the house without another word.

The cold morning air hit my face as I made my way to school, and for the first time that day, I felt like I could breathe again. By the time I stepped into the gym for morning practice, my bad mood had already dissipated. The sound of volleyballs hitting the floor, the squeak of shoes, and the familiar chatter of my teammates felt like home.

“Hinata!” Daichi barked. “Stop standing there and warm up!”

I grinned, the tension in my chest easing. “Coming!”

I bumped into Tobio, who smirked at me. "I win." Ugh, I forgot about the race. Never mind; I can beat him any other day if my morning wasn't so sour.

"Hey, Shoyo-kun. Subaru was asking for you earlier," Hitoka told me as I warmed up. I hummed, "What’d he say?"

"He was hoping he could borrow your notes in Mathematics since you have a quiz today." I froze when I heard her mention the quiz. It had completely slipped my mind. "Crap! I'm dead!"

Hitoka chuckled. "Don't worry too much. You've been studying math for a long time. You'll be fine." I nodded and flashed her a smile. I ran to the court, grabbed a ball, and served it straight to an unsuspecting Kei. Having trained with unexpected attacks, he naturally reacted quickly and received the ball, albeit a bit unsteadily.

"Nice, Kei!" I said loudly, giving him a thumbs-up, which he scoffed at. I growled, "You ungrateful brat!"

On my left, Kinoshita-san chortled, watching our interaction. Ennoshita-san smiled and said, "I didn’t know you guys were on a first-name basis already. I've been meaning to ask—have you known each other before?"

We all nodded. "We're friends, actually," Tadashi explained. Kinoshita-san raised an eyebrow, tilted his head slightly to the right, and asked, "How long have you been friends?"

"Since middle school." This time, Kei answered. He was probably trying to prevent Tobio and me from answering in case we slipped up. Yeah, we have loud mouths.

It still feels a little awkward to call them by their first names, especially since for 15 years, we’ve called each other by our last names. Last night, after we all got home, we hopped on another group call to chat.

“You all better remember,” Tadashi had said in his “captain-mode” tone, surprising us with his sudden authority. “No calling last names. If you mess up, you’re doing laps!”

“Geez, Tadashi,” I had teased. “You’re really scarier than Daichi!”

Hitoka, laughing, had reminded us of the our promise to call each other by our first names. It had taken a lot of convincing for Tobio and Kei, but eventually, even they relented.

Back in the gym, I called out to Tobio. “Tobio! Toss me one!”

He grunted in response but tossed the ball anyway. As I jumped for the spike, I felt my spirits soar. Volleyball had always been my escape, and right now, it was all I needed to forget the nightmares, the man at home, and everything else weighing me down.

---

"Kiyoko, are they ready?" We looked over at Daichi, curious about what he was talking about. Kiyoko-senpai nodded, grabbing a bag of clean clothes from outside and neatly placing it inside. "Alright! First years, line up!"

"Oh, right! How could I forget? We had our match a week after school started, and that's when we got our uniforms too," Yamaguchi said, recalling the fond memory. We each received our black club uniforms, each printed with the school's name on the back.

Mine had to be changed, though. Daichi had to search for one that would fit me properly. When I finally received mine, we put them on, as urged by Tanaka-san and Suga-san.

"Now you have your own club uniform. Let us welcome you! Welcome to the club!" My heart skipped a beat as I remembered this scene. As if it had been planned, we lined up and bowed in sync, chorusing, "Thank you!"

Our seniors gave us a round of applause, celebrating our official membership.

Now, I was more than ready to face the Blue Castle!

---

Kageyama's POV

The bell finally rang, signaling the end of our last class for the day. I packed my notebooks and pen into my bag and slid it over my shoulder. Since Hin—no, Shoyou (I’m still not used to calling him that)—really focused on his studies over the past few years, he moved classes. He’s now in class 1-5, the second-best section, basically the top 2 college-preparatory class. I’m in class 1-4, one section below. I managed to raise my grades because of my past experiences.

I was able to pull off high grades in English, thanks to the English classes I took when preparing for the Olympics. Math became a little easier for me; I think my brain is good with calculations, I just need to learn the formulas. My History class isn’t that bad, though I’m still struggling with Science. Japanese class is still the same—difficult.

Did I mention that Yamaguchi and Ts—Kei (cursed names) are now in the same class as Yachi? They should be. After all, they were acing their college entrance exams back in our original timeline.

Anyway, I made my way toward the vending machine placed beside the hallways leading to the volleyball club. I pressed two milk cartons, opened one, and took a sip while storing the other in my bag.

When I arrived at the clubroom, I could hear my teammates chatting through the door. They’ve always been so loud—no wonder people look at us like we're a bunch of wild animals. As I entered, I saw Shoyou, Tadashi, and Kei changing on the right, while the rest of the second-years were talking on the left.

"Where’s Daichi-san and Sugawara-san?" I asked, removing my uniform.

"They’re finalizing things with Takeda-sensei," Shoyou responded, zipping up his jacket. I nodded in response as I pulled on my club uniform.

Just then, we heard a knock on the door, and Sugawara-san popped his head in. "Daichi said to hurry up. We’re about to leave."

Hearing that, I hurried up, dressing quickly, and swiftly arranged my bag before swinging it back onto my shoulder.

On the bus, the four of us stuck together, except for Yachi, who sat with Shimizu-san. "It’s still bizarre to think we’re meeting Seijoh again for the first time in years," Tadashi remarked, glancing out of the window.

"I guess we’ll be facing bitter Kindaichi again. Sigh," Kei added, sitting across from me while scrolling through his phone. Huh? Since when were they close?

"Since when were you two close?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Kei glanced back at me for a moment, then turned his head toward his phone again. "Why, you jealous? I mean, it’s only natural we’re going to be close. After all, we trained together in a camp, played with them for three years, and I even played against him in some college matches."

"College?" Narita-san asked, looking over at us with curiosity.

I whispered mockingly, "Good job, Kei. Way to go!" Shoyou snickered beside me. Tadashi was quick to cover up Kei’s mistake.

"Uh... it’s just that we met Kei’s older brother yesterday, and he’s playing volleyball at their college. So we were wondering if we could do the same in the future," Tadashi explained, barely hiding his panic.

Ennoshita, who had been quietly reading his book, looked up and smirked. "Really? Hear that, Tanaka? Your juniors are already thinking about their future, while here you are, trying to figure out how to get yourself girls."

"Hey! Why are you targeting me now?!" Tanaka retorted, raising his hands in defense. And just like that, they began bickering loudly.

Tadashi sighed, muttering, "Better be careful from now on. That was close."

Kei just shrugged, though I noticed his shoulders tense when he realized his slip-up. "Sorry. I’ll be cautious from now on."

"Come on, Tadashi. Cut him some slack," Shoyou said, "I know all of us are excited to meet them again. Speaking of which, why did you get scolded by Daichi-san back then?" Shoyou looked at me with a grin.

Kei and I fell silent. Tadashi giggled and whispered, "Apparently, they antagonized their members by intimidating them. Tanaka-san even made that face he usually makes when he’s scaring teams who look down on us."

Shoyou made an 'ooh' sound and laughed. "Wanna do it again?"

I perked up at that suggestion, smirking. This is going to be fun. Kindaichi, Kunimi, and I had already made up in the future, so I didn’t feel anxious seeing them anymore. We joked many times about our first meeting in high school. This would be another funny story to tell in the future.

"Cut it out, guys!" Tadashi scolded, slapping Kei in the arm.

"Why are you hitting me?" Kei exclaimed, feigning innocence.

"Don’t pretend. I know you wanted to do it too," I said with a smirk.

Kei only shrugged, though I could see the playful glint in his eyes. "Don’t act like you didn’t want it too. And Tadashi loosen up. Think of this as an early friendly banter with them. A little one-sided on our part, though."

"Please, just don’t," Tadashi groaned, clearly exasperated.

"At least the vice approves," Shoyou teased, making Kei snort in laughter.

"God save me," Yamaguchi muttered, sinking into his seat, but the smile he was trying to hide made it clear that he was enjoying the banter.

The bus ride continued with more laughter and teasing. Despite all the jokes, we all knew that deep down, each of us was excited about what was to come—the reunion with Seijoh and facing old rivals. It was going to be a battle, but it would also be a memorable one. For us, atleast.

---

Tsukishima’s POV

As soon as we arrived at the school, the first thing I noticed was the overly pristine architecture. I couldn't help but scoff internally at how much effort Seijoh put into their appearances. Their school was spotless, their halls immaculate, and their gym was annoyingly polished. It was like stepping into one of those clichéd elite academy brochures.

While Daichi and Takeda-sensei stayed behind to sort out logistics, our group ventured out to find the gym on our own. Naturally, Tanaka-san took the lead. That was our first mistake.

“Just follow me. I’ve got a great sense of direction!” he said with way too much confidence.

Hinata snickered under his breath as he leaned closer to me. “You think we’ll get lost again?”

I shot him a sideways glance, muttering, “Does a bear poop in the woods?”

He suppressed his laugh, and we continued walking. But I wasn’t entirely unbothered. Memories of our first visit here resurfaced—how chaotic it had been when Tanaka led us into the wrong corner, only for us to bump into a group of Seijoh students and... well, let’s just say things escalated.

Before I could finish reminiscing, we rounded a corner and heard voices—familiar ones, too.

“Fallen crows, huh?”

Oh, right. This is where it happened.

Tanaka-san’s eyes lit up like he’d been given permission to wreak havoc. His grin widened in a way that would unsettle most people, and he stepped ahead to confront the voices. I barely held back a grin. 

“Who are you calling ‘fallen crows’?” Tanaka’s voice was loud and sharp, cutting through the air like a whip.

Around the corner, two Seijoh players froze. Kindaichi and Yahaba-san, looking as confident as wet cats. Their smugness evaporated the second they saw Tanaka’s ‘intimidation face.’

The silence hung heavy in the area for a moment before I decided to pile on. “Tanaka-san, you’re scaring them. Look, they’re shaking.”

Yahaba bristled immediately. “We’re not shaking!”

“Sure you’re not,” I said with the most condescending smile I could muster.

And then, Hinata who apparently can never resist stirring the pot, he chimed in. “Fallen crows? Are you sure it’s not the killer crows? We’ve been looking for practice targets lately.”

The way Hinata said it, with that eerily serious smile, was enough to make anyone doubt their survival. It was hilarious how someone so small could come across as terrifying. I almost laughed out loud, but I held it in.

Before the situation could escalate further, Daichi’s voice boomed from behind us. “Oi! What are you guys doing?!”

The sheer panic in Hinata’s eyes was comedy gold. He immediately switched to his innocent act, flashing the sweetest smile at Daichi. “We’re not doing anything, Daichi-san. We were just offering constructive criticism. I mean, ‘fallen crows’? They could be more creative.”

Daichi glared at the two and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Apologize. Now.”

Hinata and Tanaka bowed reluctantly, muttering half-hearted apologies. Meanwhile, Kindaichi and Yahaba looked like they’d just been caught in the middle of a lion’s den.

Yamaguchi spoke up, barely holding back his laughter. “That was close. You guys almost got away with it.”

I nodded. Wait, what? I stared at him, incredulous. “Wait, when did you even get here?”

He smirked. “What do you mean? I’ve been here the whole time. Maybe I should be the next Kuroko of this series.”

“What series?” I muttered, but he was already walking away.

As we were about to leave, Kindaichi called out, his voice loud enough to catch everyone’s attention. “Kageyama!”

Kageyama turned, his expression unreadable.

Kindaichi smirked, trying to regain some semblance of confidence. “I’m looking forward to seeing the ‘King’ in action.”

I expected Kageyama to bristle, to lash out, but instead, he smiled. I’m willing to bet he wasn’t even conscious of it. He smiles decently when it’s unintentional, but the second he tries to force a smile, it’s like something straight out of a horror movie. Honestly, his deliberate grin is worse than that creepy chicken ghost Momo.

Glancing back at Kindaichi and Yahaba, he finally responded, “Please do,” he said, his voice calm but with an edge of smugness. “I’ve found myself some new peasants.”

The reaction was instantaneous. Tanaka practically exploded. “Who are you calling peasants, you little brat?!”

Kageyama ignored him, walking ahead toward the gym like he hadn’t just dropped a verbal nuke on his teammates.

I turned to Hinata, expecting him to at least look offended, but instead, he stood there calmly. “You’re not mad?” I asked.

Hinata gave me a shrug and a sly grin. “Why would I be? We’ve known each other long enough for me to know he doesn’t mean it. And besides...” He snickered under his breath. “Did you see their faces?!”

Sugawara-san appeared out of nowhere, whispering, “They can still hear you, you know.”

Hinata and I responded in unison, “That’s the point.”

Sugawara shook his head, pretending to be disappointed. “You guys are hopeless.”

Daichi-san yelled for us to hurry up dragging us along as we pretended to still be navigating this ridiculously huge school. Truth be told, Kageyama, Hinata, and I already know our way around here. We’ve been here before, after all. The whole "getting lost" act? That’s just our way of buying time in case we stumble upon a prime ‘bullying opportunity.’ Not that Daichi-san or the others need to know about that little detail.

Once we reached the gym, we dropped the act and got to business. Warm-ups went by quickly, and before we knew it, the whistle blew, signaling the start of the game.

Chapter Text

Positions
Karasuno:
Front (Left to Right)
MB-Tsukishima, WS-Tanaka, MB-Yamaguchi
Back (Left to Right)
S-Kageyama, WS-Daichi, WS-Hinata

Aoba Johsai
Front (Left to Right):
WS-Iwaizumi, WS-Kunimi, MB-Kindaichi
Back (Left to Right):
S-Yahaba, L/MB-Watari/Matsukawa, WS-Hanamaki

Daichi stepped forward, his confident demeanor setting the tone as he extended his hand to Iwaizumi, Seijoh’s vice-captain and acting captain for now. They exchanged a firm handshake, and Daichi secured the first serve for Karasuno.

As both teams took their positions, Hinata moved to the serving area, waiting for the referee’s whistle. His orange hair seemed to glow under the gymnasium lights, his focused expression and dark demeanor was a stark contrast to his bright appearance.

Hinata had spent the last week refining his underhand serves, inspired by the first-year player from Wakunan who had given Karasuno such a tough time. That unique serve—high and tricky—had kept them on their toes, and Hinata was determined to master it. He planned to alternate between underhand and overhand serves, keeping most of his new techniques under wraps for now.

The referee blew the whistle. Hinata took a deep breath and launched the ball high into the air with an underhand serve. The ball soared to the ceiling, its arc precise, before it dropped sharply into the space between Yahaba and Watari.

“What the heck?!” Yahaba and Watari exclaimed in unison, staring at the ball that bounced harmlessly on the court.

From the sidelines, Shoyo could almost feel the smug satisfaction radiating from his teammates. The crows were taking flight, and they were ready to prove themselves.

On his second serve, Hinata wasted no time, executing it right after the whistle. The ball whizzed across the net, leaving Seijoh momentarily frozen. The tension on their side of the court was palpable.

Clap! Clap!

Iwaizumi clapped his hands, the sound cut through the unease. “Don’t mind it! Focus on the next one and make it our point!” He said rallying his team.

Hinata, unfazed, racked up three more points, strategically aiming for tricky spots on the court. But Seijoh, clearly frustrated, finally managed to receive the ball, kicking off the long-awaited rally.

Yahaba set the ball for Iwaizumi, as Karasuno had anticipated. Daichi received it effortlessly, passing it to Kageyama, who set it for Tsukishima. With a calculated feint, Tsukishima tipped the ball over Seijoh’s blockers, earning Karasuno their sixth point.

Hinata’s next serve was an overhand, aimed for the net in front of Kunimi. The Seijoh player managed to save it, though the ball was sent back to Karasuno’s side. Daichi was quick to respond, sending the ball to Kageyama, who set it for Tsukishima once more. Tsukishima feinted again, securing another point.

Not willing to let their guard down, Karasuno continued to press forward. On Hinata’s next serve, he targeted the same gap between Watari and Yahaba. This time, Watari was ready, and Yahaba quickly set the ball to Kindaichi. However, Kindaichi’s spike was met with Tsukishima’s iron wall of a block.

“Nice block!” Yamaguchi cheered.

Seijoh scrambled to keep the ball in play. Watari shakily bumped it, and Hanamaki set it up for Iwaizumi. With a powerful spike, Iwaizumi finally earned Seijoh their first point of the set.

The rally that followed was fierce. Kindaichi’s serve was received cleanly by Daichi, and Kageyama made it look like he was setting up a toss. At the last moment, he executed a perfectly timed dump, earning another point for Karasuno.

“Nice one, Kageyama!” Tanaka shouted, pumping his fist.

Kageyama ignored the taunts and glares from Seijoh’s side but couldn’t suppress the satisfaction curling at the corners of his lips.

When it was Tsukishima’s turn to serve, he added a subtle float to his overhand serve. Matsukawa misjudged the ball, letting it fall from his arms. On his next serve, Watari managed to receive it, albeit unsteadily. The ball went to Iwaizumi, who set it for Kunimi. Kunimi tipped it just over Tanaka’s block, earning Seijoh another hard-fought point.

As the set wore on, both teams traded points, pushing each other to their limits. When Karasuno reached set point, Kageyama gave Hinata a knowing signal.

Yamaguchi chuckled noticing the exchange, “They’re not ready for this.”

Daichi served, aiming deep behind Watari. The libero deftly caught it with an overhand pass, and Yahaba set the ball for Kindaichi. Kindaichi’s spike was met with a clean receive by Hinata, who sent it to Kageyama. Without missing a beat, Hinata sprinted into position, curving around to Kageyama’s left.

The gym fell silent as the duo executed their infamous freak quick, Hinata slamming the ball into Seijoh’s court with incredible speed.

The whistle blew, signaling the end of the set.

“Nice one, guys!” Daichi called, clapping his hands to gather everyone. “Let’s keep this up for the second set!”

On Seijoh’s side, frustration brewed.

“Damn,” Matsukawa muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. “I didn’t expect these ‘fallen crows’ to be this troublesome.”

Kunimi sighed, "Tell me about it."

"And what was that spike just now? Was it a fluke? Their plays are really starting to get on my nerves," Yahaba said, frustration evident in his tone.

Kindaichi crossed his arms, leaning back against the bench with a faint grin. "A fluke, huh? Maybe. But with those guys, it's hard to tell. One second, they’re pulling off plays that seem impossible, and the next, they’re catching us completely off guard."

Hanamaki glanced at Yahaba, his expression thoughtful. "Still, even if it was a fluke, we can’t let our guard down. They’re the kind of team that thrives on chaos—and right now, they’ve got the momentum."

Iwaizumi groaned, rubbing his temples. “They’re throwing surprise after surprise at us. It’s infuriating.”

“Then stop second-guessing yourself,” a voice drawled behind him.

Iwaizumi whipped around, almost punching the intruder. “Don’t sneak up on me, Shittykawa!”

“I missed you too, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa smirked, earning a punch to the gut from his vice-captain.

As Oikawa took the court, Karasuno watched him like hawks.

“Who’s that pretty boy?” Tanaka growled.

“That’s Oikawa, their captain and official setter,” Kageyama muttered, his eyes narrowing.

“He’s early this time,” Hinata commented quietly, frowning slightly. “He originally arrived during the second set.”

The whistle blew, and both teams prepared for what would undoubtedly be an even fiercer second set.

In the second set, Iwaizumi stepped up to serve, his jump serve packing an incredible amount of power. The ball rocketed over the net, and Daichi positioned himself perfectly, receiving it cleanly and sending a solid pass to Kageyama. Without missing a beat, Kageyama set the ball high to Yamaguchi, who went for a spike. However, Hanamaki managed to dig it out, and Yahaba quickly moved to position himself under the ball. With precision, he sent a toss to Iwaizumi, who hammered it toward the end-line with a devastating spike.

Karasuno’s Number 11, Tsukishima, moved to save it a little late letting the ball hit the floor. As the whistle signaled the point for Seijoh, an argument immediately erupted on Karasuno’s side of the court.

Hinata turned toward Tsukishima, his voice sharp. "What was that? Stop being lazy and receive! Don’t tell me you still suck at this!"

Kageyama, not one to let an opportunity to criticize pass, joined in. "What’s your excuse this time, huh? You weren’t this bad the other day!"

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, clearly irritated. "Shut your freaking mouths, you volleyball freaks! I misjudged the ball, okay? I didn’t think he’d aim for the end-line like that!"

Hinata pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You’re supposed to be smart!"

The blonde middle blocker shot back, "It was one error, and you guys are acting like I just committed murder!"

Before the bickering could escalate further, Yamaguchi stepped in, his usually calm face twisted with frustration. "Shut up, you morons! Focus on the game!" His voice had an edge that immediately silenced the group.

On the other side of the net, Kunimi leaned slightly toward Kindaichi, his lips curling into a smirk. "Looks like Karasuno’s Number 11 can blow a fuse after all."

Kindaichi chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "It’s almost entertaining to watch."

Still riding the momentum, Iwaizumi served again. This time, Yamaguchi managed to receive the ball, though it was a bit shaky. Kageyama quickly set it to Daichi, who launched an attack. Watari was ready, digging the ball with precision. Yahaba moved quickly, sending a toss to Matsukawa, who went for the spike. However, Hinata lunged forward, keeping the ball alive and sending it back toward Kageyama.

The rally continued fiercely, neither side willing to back down. The ball whipped back and forth across the net, with both teams showcasing their skills. Finally, Kageyama decided to end it, signaling Hinata with a glance. With perfect synchronization, the duo executed their signature freak quick attack, earning Karasuno another point and a surge of excitement from the crowd.

"That settles it. It wasn’t a fluke," Iwaizumi muttered, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

Tsukishima stepped up for the next serve, his expression unreadable. He served a float ball that, while deceptively simple, was tricky to handle. Watari was ready, steadying himself and managing to receive it cleanly. Seijoh launched a counterattack, but Daichi was already in position to catch the ball. Kageyama set it up for Tanaka, who spiked in an attempt to evade the blockers. Unfortunately, the ball sailed just outside the court, and the line judges called it out.

Yahaba took his turn to serve, aiming for Karasuno’s back row. Daichi received the ball, and the team quickly transitioned into an attack. Seijoh scrambled to save it, and Kunimi managed a spike, but Tanaka was there to receive it. Before Seijoh could regroup, Kageyama and Hinata executed another freak quick, leaving the opposing team stunned.

The whistle blew, signaling a timeout for Seijoh. Their coach, Irihata, glanced at the scoreboard. The score read 15-19, with Karasuno in the lead. Turning to Oikawa, who had just finished warming up, he asked, "Are you good to play?"

Oikawa gave him a thumbs up, his sharp eyes fixed on the court. "Tobio-chan’s really changed a lot," he said, almost as if speaking to himself.

Iwaizumi nodded in agreement. "Yeah. He’s even got himself some friends now."

Nearby, Kindaichi clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. Memories of middle school bubbled up unbidden, but before he could dwell on them, Kunimi placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, silently pulling him out of his thoughts.

The blow of the whistle pulled everyone’s attention back to the court. Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed, his competitive spirit reigniting. "Whatever," he said with determination, "we’re going to beat them."

Oikawa smirked, his usual confidence radiating. "Of course we are," he said, preparing to step onto the court amidst the cheers of his loyal fangirls in the balcony. The game was far from over, and Seijoh wasn’t about to back down.

Current position:
Karasuno:
Front (Left to Right): MB-Yamaguchi, WS-Hinata, WS-Daichi
Back (Left to Right): WS-Tanaka, MB-Tsukishima, S-Kageyama

Aoba Johsai:
Front (Left to Right): MB-Kindaichi, WS-Hanamaki, MB-Matsukawa
Back (Left to Right): WS-Kunimi, WS-Iwaizumi, S-Yahaba

Kageyama caught the ball, his fingers tightening around it before he spun it in his hands. He took a deep breath, centering himself. This habit, the slight pause before every jump serve, had become second nature ever since he first started practicing it. It was a ritual of sorts, allowing his mind to focus solely on the task at hand, pushing aside all distractions.

The ball was thrown into the air, and Kageyama's eyes followed it for the perfect trajectory. He estimated the height, gauging it with precision before jumping into his serve. He aimed for Matsukawa, sending all his power behind the ball.

Matsukawa wasn't able to receive the serve cleanly. He managed to touch it, but it slipped through his fingers. "Tch," he muttered under his breath. The sheer force behind Kageyama's serve was no joke. Kageyama, however, didn't seem bothered in the least. He wasn't trying to make a statement. Despite his tendency to give 100% in every situation, today was different. He had promised his friends—his teammates—that he'd tone it down a little.

Kageyama quickly got into position and threw the ball again, this time aiming once more for Matsukawa. This time, the third-year middle blocker managed to receive it. Yahaba was quick on his feet, tossing the ball to Kindaichi. The middle blocker went for the attack, but Daichi was already there, anticipating and receiving the ball effortlessly. The rally continued.

Kageyama quickly adjusted his position, retrieving the ball and setting it for Yamaguchi, who stood poised and ready. Yamaguchi was a bit taken aback at first, momentarily expecting Kageyama to set to Hinata, especially considering that Hinata was now in the front row. But, that was the past. Yamaguchi reminded himself that things had changed—he had become more reliable in his own right.

Facing the formidable Aoba Johsai blockers, Yamaguchi adopted a technique that Hinata thought he could use. He aimed his spike at the tips of the blockers' fingers. The blockers flinched, as they always did when faced with that sharp, well-placed attack. Yamaguchi grinned, feeling a sense of satisfaction. The look on their faces—their disgust at the skillful finesse of the attack—was something he'd come to understand intimately. The thrill of seeing that reaction made him just a little bit proud, knowing he had caused it.

Kindaichi, shaking his head in frustration, muttered, "Jeez, aren't you a middle blocker?"

Yamaguchi beamed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Doesn't stop me from wanting to score a point for my team." He tilted his head, the confidence in his voice undeniable.

Kindaichi groaned, "Ugh."

The game resumed as Kageyama prepared to serve again. This time, his serve was received by Watari. Yahaba and Iwaizumi teamed up for a back-row attack, breaking Karasuno's streak. The tension was palpable as the game grew even more competitive. Several rallies went by, each one testing the limits of both teams, until Kunimi's turn to serve arrived.

Kunimi stepped up to the line, ready to make his move. But before he could even toss the ball into the air, the referee signaled for a substitution. Everyone's eyes were drawn to the substitution area, where none other than Oikawa was standing, holding up his number. A wave of anticipation swept through the court as Kunimi passed the ball to him, stepping off the court.

Oikawa’s smile was warm as he approached his junior. "You can rest now. Let your senpai handle the rest." He placed a hand on Kunimi's shoulder, and the younger player gave him a brief nod, smiling back.

"Hai," Kunimi replied, stepping away to catch his breath.

Chapter Text

Oikawa glanced at the score, his gaze narrowing as he took in the numbers: Karasuno was up 23-20. They were so close to winning. The match could be decided in mere moments, but Oikawa wasn’t ready to let them take it that easily. He didn’t intend to stand by and watch Karasuno claim victory. There was still time to turn the game around.

His sharp eyes scanned the court, analyzing Karasuno’s lineup with a strategist’s mind. He noticed something curious: there were more first years than second and third years on the court for Karasuno. How peculiar. It didn’t seem like the usual setup, but Oikawa was quick to adapt. His brain whirred as he searched for an opening.

He soon spotted his target: the blonde middle blocker. From what he had seen, the blonde seemed solid in receive, but he lacked power. However, Oikawa knew that he could potentially disrupt his game with a well-placed serve. The real target, though, was the freckled kid—Yamaguchi. He didn’t seem to be the one receiving much, and Oikawa surmised that the boy likely had the weakest receive on the team.

PRRRRTTTT!!!

The ball sliced through the air with a wicked spin as Oikawa served it with precision, aiming directly for Yamaguchi. The greenette anticipated the attack, setting himself into position to receive. His heart raced, but he remained steady, knowing he had faced powerful serves from Kageyama and Hinata before. He couldn't guarantee he would return it cleanly, but he would give it his best shot.

As expected, the ball was too powerful for him to return properly, but he managed to get it up into the air, just enough to give his team a chance. He called out, "Cover!" His voice was steady despite the pressure, trusting his teammates to help him out.

Tsukishima was there, quick to bump the ball up to Kageyama. In an instant, Kageyama adjusted his body and set the ball for Hinata, who had already begun his jump. Hinata’s eyes locked onto the space beside Oikawa, and with one fluid motion, he attacked, sending the ball flying.

Oikawa, watching from the back row, could only gape for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he could even move fast enough to block it. But then, the shock faded, and a sly grin formed on his face. "That’s monstrous," he muttered under his breath. The power and timing behind that attack were incredible.

Daichi stepped up to serve, aiming for Oikawa, but Oikawa had already anticipated this. With a quick glance to Yahaba, he saw the setter was ready to make a move. Yahaba tossed the ball to Oikawa instead of their ace, surprising everyone. "Don't think you can take me out of the picture that easily, Mr. Captain," Oikawa said, his tone playful but full of determination.

Daichi stared for a moment, then smiled in response. "That's right. I never really expected it anyway." He shrugged, unfazed by Oikawa’s move. The intensity of the match was only increasing, and both teams knew it wasn’t over yet.

The game had become a battle of wits and skill. Every serve, every attack, every block seemed to carry a sense of urgency now. It was no longer just about who could hit the hardest or serve the quickest—it was about who could outsmart the other. And with players like Oikawa and Kageyama on the court, every moment was unpredictable. The tension was electric as both teams pushed themselves to their limits, knowing that the next point could decide the winner.

---
Current position:
Karasuno:
Front (Left to Right):
WS-Daichi, S-Kageyama, MB-Tsukishima
Back (Left to Right):
WS-Hinata, MB-Yamaguchi, WS-Tanaka

Aoba Johsai:
Front (Left to Right):
WS-Kunimi, WS-Iwaizumi, S-Oikawa
Back (Left to Right):
L-Watari, WS-Hanamaki, MB-Kindaichi

The tension in the gymnasium had reached a fever pitch. The match between Karasuno and Aoba Johsai was in its final moments, with the score tied in the 30s. Both teams had pushed each other to the limit, and with every point, the pressure seemed to build. The students from Aoba Johsai, sitting on the sidelines, exchanged nervous glances. They had been so sure of victory, but now, witnessing the sudden turn of events, their unease was palpable.

Kindaichi stood at the service line, preparing to serve. The gym was eerily quiet, all eyes on him. His grip tightened on the ball, his face a mixture of determination and anxiety. He glanced up at the scoreboard—Karasuno had the advantage, 31-31. This was it. A single mistake, and they would lose.

He tossed the ball into the air, his gaze fixed firmly on the opposing side. Hinata watched the ball with precision, as if already calculating the trajectory. He leapt into the air, his hands expertly meeting the ball to pass it high to Kageyama, who had positioned himself under the ball.

He didn’t hesitate. He set up the ball with minimal effort, passing it swiftly to Yamaguchi, who had been playing a surprisingly pivotal role in this match. The greenette’s eyes flickered for a moment as he adjusted his position to face the Aoba Johsai blockers—Kunimi, Iwaizumi, and Oikawa. Yamaguchi knew he needed to break their wall.

With a deep breath, Yamaguchi jumped and aimed for the tips of the blockers’ fingers again. This time, however, he adjusted his angle just a fraction. The ball soared towards the back of the court, brushing past Iwaizumi’s outstretched fingers. Watari leapt but missed the ball entirely. A clean point.

The gym erupted in cheers. Karasuno had done it again. The score was now 32-31 in their favor.

“Nice one, Yamaguchi!” Hinata called from the back, though his voice was quieter than usual.

The Aoba Johsai side was far from defeated. Oikawa’s expression darkened with resolve, his eyes sharp and calculating. He wasn’t going to let this match slip through their fingers. He gave a subtle nod to Iwaizumi and Kunimi, signaling to be ready to attack.

Kindaichi served again, attempting to add more power, trying to throw off Karasuno’s rhythm. The ball flew across the court with speed, coming directly at Tanaka. Tanaka braced himself and received the serve cleanly, the ball flying directly into Kageyama’s hands. Without missing a beat, Kageyama set it perfectly for Hinata, who was ready for the attack.

Hinata leapt and slammed the ball towards Aoba Johsai’s blockers, aiming for the open spot just next to Kunimi. The blockers scrambled to position themselves, but the ball was too fast. It struck the floor with a loud thud.

The referee blew the whistle pointing his arm on Karasuno's court indicating they had won the point. He then crossed his arms signalling the end of the match.

Aoba Johsai had no more tricks up their sleeves. The score was now 33-31. Karasuno had won the match.

The gym was filled with a mixture of awe and disbelief. The Aoba Johsai students sat frozen, still processing the unexpected turn of events. Karasuno, on the other hand, erupted in cheers and high-fives.

“Yeah! We did it!” they shouted, their usual enthusiasm back in full force.

Daichi clapped his hands together, bringing everyone’s attention back to the court.

"Alright, everyone! We did it, but don’t get too comfortable. We’ve still got a lot to improve," Daichi said with a firm but encouraging tone. The rest of the team nodded in agreement. Both teams lined up at the end-line and bowed to each other. "Thank you for the game!"

As the team stood in the parking lot, awaiting Takeda-sensei’s arrival with the victory bust, they talked amongst themselves about the match.

“That was close,” Sugawara muttered. “I didn’t expect Aoba Johsai to keep pushing like that.”

“But we beat them, nevertheless!” Tanaka proudly said with a smirk. “They’ve got nothing on us.”

“Let’s not get cocky,” Daichi cautioned. “We won today, but it wasn’t easy. We’ll have tougher opponents ahead.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tanaka grinned. “We’ll take them on one by one. We’re Karasuno, after all!”

Just then, the familiar voice of Oikawa rang out.

“Well said, Captain,” Oikawa said, stepping forward and closing the distance with a playful smirk on his face. His eyes, however, held a glint of competitiveness. “We weren’t at our best today. Though you managed to defeat us, that doesn’t mean you’ve won the war.”

Kageyama’s posture immediately stiffened as he locked eyes with his former senior. “What do you want, Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. “I just thought I’d remind you all that you may have won today, but I’m not going to let you get too comfortable. Consider this a challenge.”

Sugawara’s lips curled into a slight smirk as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You think you can take us down?”

Oikawa chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course! But it’s not just about taking you down. It’s also about seeing if you’re ready for the next level. Don’t forget, I already know your weaknesses. But next time, I’ll uncover even more. I promise you that.”

The Karasuno players exchanged glances. They could feel the weight of Oikawa’s challenge. He wasn’t just here to talk; he wanted to test them once more.

“Alright,” Daichi stepped forward, his leadership and confidence evident. “Challenge accepted. We’ll be ready, and I hope you are, too.”

Oikawa’s grin never wavered. “Then let’s make this interesting, Karasuno. Next time, at the Interhigh Tournament, let’s face each other and see who’s truly stronger.”

And with that, the challenge was set. Karasuno’s victory today had been hard-earned, but the road ahead was still full of challenges. The shadow of Aoba Johsai’s captain and setter loomed large, and the Interhigh Tournament promised to be the ultimate test.

"Everyone! Time to go!" Takeda-sensei called out, snapping them out of their stupor. Daichi glanced around at his teammates and gave them a determined nod. "Let’s go."

The five first years walked behind their seniors, quietly admiring how mature and calm the upperclassmen were in contrast to their own excitement. Yachi, ever the optimist, beamed at her friends. "Congratulations on the win!"

Tsukishima wiped his glasses clean with a dismissive snort. "What's there to congratulate about? It's just a practice match. The opponents weren’t even at their best."

"Stop being pessimistic, Kei. You’ll age faster that way," Hinata playfully teased, only to receive a swift smack in the face for his trouble.

"Remind me again who’s the oldest one here?" Tsukishima retorted with a smirk, his tone laced with sarcasm.

Hinata rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue. "Whatever." He quickened his pace, leaving the group behind. Yachi chuckled, glancing back at the others with a soft smile.

Her gaze then shifted to Kageyama, who had been strangely quiet ever since the match ended. He hadn’t shown much emotion, even though he’d played a critical role in their victory.

"How about you, Kageyama? How do you feel reuniting with your old teammates?" Yachi asked, breaking the silence.

Kageyama glanced at her briefly, his expression unchanged. He heaved a sigh before answering. "It feels awkward and tense. Even more than the last time." His words were simple, but they held an edge of lingering discomfort.

Yamaguchi, sensing the underlying tension, gave him a sympathetic look. "There, there. I’m sure you’ll mend your relationship with them soon," he said, offering a gentle pat on the back.

Tsukishima, clearly bored by their conversation, slid his headphones on and walked ahead, eager to escape the small talk. He followed Hinata’s lead and didn’t look back.

Yachi smiled softly as she watched her friends, each one so different but so important to the team. She looked up at the sky, her expression peaceful. "I hope good things come," she murmured quietly, her gaze softening.

She believed in the team’s potential, and perhaps, in time, their bonds would grow even stronger. This victory was just the beginning.

Chapter Text

Hello everyone, it's been a while since my last update. I want to thank my loyal readers, especially those who've been with me since the beginning, for their continued support. Your comments have been my motivation and strength.

Life got in the way – schoolwork, graduation, and finalizing my thesis took priority. I had planned to continue working on this story, but unfortunately, my phone was stolen, and recovering my account took longer than expected. When I finally regained access, I realized I'd lost my drafts and had to start over.

To move forward, I'll need some time to re-read my previous work and refresh my memory on the plot. I appreciate your patience and understanding during this process. Seeing the kudos and comments on my story upon recovering my account renewed my enthusiasm to continue writing.

I sincerely apologize to everyone who's been waiting for updates, especially those who were promised more content. To my new readers, I'm sorry for the disappointment of finding an incomplete story. Thank you for sticking with me. I hope to post a new chapter soon. Take care, and thank you again for your understanding!