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Chapter Text

Akaashi Keiji and Y/N L/N have never gotten a long.

It all started when the two hotheads were in elementary school while they were playing volleyball in gym class. Y/N was very risky when it came to her movements and she often lived in the moment and took risks. While Akaashi was very methodical and disciplined with his decisions he was always thinking three steps ahead.

These polar opposite personalities caused the two to clash over anything and everything. However they both had the same end result, to win. 

Eventually their arguments escalated to off the court, and into the classroom. Whenever the two were forced to coexist it always ended up with them being dragged apart. When they both gradated elementary, they assumed they’d seen the last of each other. Yet, fate was not on their side since the two ended up enrolling at the same high school.

And as if that wasn’t enough, when the day came around to pick which club they would participate in, they found themselves standing side by side at the volleyball club table. When the captions of the boys and girls team asked them "Why they wanted to play volleyball?" the two responded with the exact same answer "To make it to Nationals." Now they are both second-years, with a infamous rivalry, that has now spread to the entire Tokyo Prefecture.

When it comes to these two, everyone knows: it’s never just a game.

The sound of squeaky sneakers flooded the gymnasium. The girls were hard at work, training for their upcoming spring season. They had been knocked out of the Interhigh Tournament preliminaries in the fourth round, missing nationals by a hair. The team had been pushing hard all winter, determined to make it to Nationals this spring.

"Alright, girls, I think that’s enough for today!" Coach Eerie raised her hands, signaling us to get in line.

"Now, I have some very exciting news for you all!" The blonde woman was clearly trying to hide her excitement.

"But first, let’s allow our boys’ team to join us."

We all turned our heads as the entire boys’ team made their way over.

I scanned the crowd, which reeked of sweat, when I came across a face I knew all too well.

Akaashi Keiji.

Forcing myself to hide the scowl creeping onto my face, I turned back toward our coaches, trying to guess what the surprise could be.

As everyone settled in, the boys’ coach, Takeyuki Yamij, took a step forward.

"Hello, ladies. I hope you all had a great practice! As you know, Ms. Eerie and I have some exciting news for you.

Every year, Nekoma High invites us, as well as a few other schools, to their campus for two weeks. During that time, we scrimmage multiple teams with one goal in mind: to learn something new.

This year, you all have the privilege of joining us and playing against other girls’ teams in the prefecture!"

Once Coach Takeyuki finished speaking, our entire team was ecstatic.

We all said our thanks, packing our bags. Some girls were already talking about what they’d do when we got there.

I walk up to Coach Takeyuki, personally thanking him for the opportunity.

"The pleasure is all mine, Y/N. I know you girls are determined to make it to Nationals this year. I truly believe this camp is the last push that'll get you there. You’ll be invincible!"

I laugh at his remark and thank him again.

As I start packing up my knee pads and sneakers, I feel an unwanted presence behind me.

"So," a familiar voice says coldly. "Looks like you’re finally going to get humbled by real setters. I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you realize your style of play isn’t just reckless, it’s weak."

I grip my bag tightly as I stand up and turn, now face-to-face with the human migraine himself.

"Yeah right, Akaashi. You're just scared I’ll go to this camp and everyone will finally realize who the better setter at Fukurodani really is." I smirk, knowing exactly how to get under his skin.

His jaw tightens, a small vein surfacing on his forehead. "Y'know what? I hope they do realize it and then maybe they'll stop wasting their time pretending you're even close to my level."

Baffled by his remark, I take a step forward, fully ready to punch the smug look right off his face, when I’m yanked back.

"Y/N, c’mon, it’s not worth it. Let it go," my best friend Kaori one of the boys’ team managers hisses as she pulls me toward the door.

"But Komi!!" I protest, practically dragging my feet as I try to make my way back for round two. She tugs me harder.

"Nope! I am not letting you two make fools of yourselves in front of both teams again."

I roll my eyes and glance back at where the raven-haired idiot is still standing now waving at me with that innocent little smile that’s anything but innocent.

It only makes his face look more punchable.

"Man, Komi! All I wanted was one hit!" I groan, stuffing another rice ball into my mouth.

This is our routine. After practices or games, Kaori and I grab food. Partly so I can rant about whatever Akaashi did to piss me off that day, but also so she can vent too. Being the manager of the boys' team is not easy.

"Trust me, Y/N, I know,” she says, sighing. “But imagine how that would've looked. Coach Takeyuki just gave your team an amazing opportunity, and you repay him by trying to punch his star setter?"

I snort. "I wouldn’t call him a star." I take another bite of my rice ball.

"That’s beside the point," she mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose, trying to find an ounce of patience. "You and Akaashi need to get your shit together. You don’t want to give Fukurodani an even worse look. Bokuto’s mood swings are already enough of a problem."

I roll my eyes. "I didn’t even hit him. I was just thinking about it."

"Yeah, well, one day you will hit him, and then what? You’re suspended? Off the team? No spring season at all?"

"Okay, okay, I get it." I sigh, slouching in my seat like a scolded kid.

Kaori leans back and folds her arms. “Y/N, please. For the sake of everyone’s mental health, try to be on your best behavior at this camp.”

"I’m not five. I know what manners are, y’know?"

"Do you really, though?"

"Fine." I lift my hand, holding it up in a mock-serious vow. "But I—"

"Nope. You promised!" she cuts me off quickly, already sliding out of the booth.

I watch her walk away, still chewing, still annoyed.

Then I mutter under my breath, "I can’t promise I’m not gonna kill him."

Chapter Text

The next few days went by faster than I expected. One minute, we were in the gym talking about Nekoma’s training camp, and the next, I was standing at the school gates, my bag heavy on my shoulder. Both teams buzzed all around me, laughing, talking, and bouncing on their toes with nervous excitement.

When the bus pulled up, everyone rushed forward like it was a race. The boys scrambled for the back row, my teammates tried to sit together, and Kaori was already shouting at everyone to keep the aisles clear.

I climbed on board slowly, scanning the seats. Almost all the good ones were gone, and my stomach twisted.

Halfway down the aisle, I spotted Akaashi sitting by himself, his bag on the seat next to him and a book in his hands.

Kaori caught me hesitating. “Don’t even think about skipping past. Sit.”

I muttered something under my breath and edged down the aisle. “Excuse me.”

Without a word, he lifted his bag onto his lap and shifted just enough for me to slip into the window seat.

For a while, the only sounds were the hum of the bus engine and the chaos around us. I pressed my forehead to the cool glass, watching buildings blur past, trying not to think about him sitting next to me.

Finally, he spoke, calm and quiet. “If you fall asleep, don’t drool on me.”

I turned toward him. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t look up from his book. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I wasn’t planning on drooling,” I said.

“That’s what everyone says.”

A tiny twitch of a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth before disappearing again. I looked back at the window, annoyed that he had managed to get under my skin so fast.

“If you’re so worried, just move seats,” I muttered.

“This is my seat.”

“You don’t own the bus.”

“No, but apparently I own your patience.” His voice was calm, like he wasn’t even trying to bother me.

I huffed and crossed my arms. “You’re impossible.”

“Likewise.”

Just like that, the conversation ended. For the next half hour, we sat in silence. Well, silence between us. Around us, teammates swapped snacks, Bokuto tried to start a sing-along, and Kaori yelled at anyone kicking the seats.

By the time we arrived, the sky was painted with the last colors of daylight. Nekoma’s banners fluttered above the gym, bright against the dim sky.

The campus was alive with energy. Inside, teams from all over the prefecture were already here. Everyone seemed taller, louder, and sharper. The coaches gave a quick welcome and went over schedules, rules, and expectations, but I barely noticed. The room felt electric, almost like everyone was sizing each other up without even trying.

After the speeches, players started mingling. Kaori disappeared to check in with Nekoma’s managers, leaving me to wander. That’s when a voice called behind me.

“You’re from Fukurodani, right?”

I turned to see a tall boy in a Karasuno jacket, his short grey hair spiked up a little, smiling easily. He held out a hand.

“Koushi Sugawara. Third year and Karasuno’s vice-captain.”

I blinked, then shook his hand. “Y/N L/N. Second-year vice-captain girls’ setter.”

He nodded. “Setter too, huh? We have that in common. First year at this camp?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Our team’s just trying to get settled in before practice starts.”

“Same here,” he said with a shrug. “Our two star players are still stuck at school finishing exams. Talent on the court doesn’t always mean talent in the classroom.”

I laughed. He seemed calm and relaxed, nothing like the intense players I usually saw in games.

“So, how’s your team dealing with it?” I asked.

“Pretty well,” he said. “We’re trying out different lineups and seeing what works. Should be fun to watch everyone play.”

“Agreed,” I said. “It’s a good chance to see other teams before Nationals.”

Later, at dinner, the cafeteria was loud. Trays clanging, voices overlapping, and the smell of curry and miso soup in the air. My teammates squeezed together, laughing over their food. Across the room, the boys’ team sat in their own cluster. Bokuto waved his chopsticks around like he was conducting an orchestra, while Akaashi quietly took notes, focused and calm.

For a second, our eyes met. He didn’t glare, didn’t smirk. He just looked at me, steady, before returning to his notebook. It was frustrating. No matter what I did, Akaashi Keiji seemed to always be there, quiet but impossible to ignore.

I turned back to my teammates, hoping to drown out my thoughts, but he was still on my mind.

Chapter Text

Morning came way too early. 

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as Kaori shoved me toward the cafeteria line. Most of our team was already buzzing with energy. Across the room, the boys sat with their own squad. Bokuto was talking with his mouth full while his teammates looked at him in utter disgust.

"Eat up," Kaori nudged me. "Today’s going to be hell."

She wasn’t exaggerating.

By eight, the gym was alive with squeaky sneakers and barking coaches. Every school had claimed a section of the court for warmups. Nekoma’s boys were running high-speed receive drills, Karasuno’s players were stretching, and our team was already lined up with Coach Eerie pacing in front.

“Today’s about sharpening skills,” she said. “We’ll start with fundamentals, then move into joint drills with other schools. Be ready.”

We kicked things off with serve-receive. The sting in my forearms came fast, but I refused to let it show. Too many eyes were on us to look weak.

That’s when I heard his voice.

“Your toss is too high,” Akaashi called from across the court. He wasn’t even on my side, just passing by with Fukurodani’s boys. His tone was casual, but it was enough to make my blood boil.

“I didn’t ask for feedback, thanks,” I shot back, snapping a ball into my hands.

Coach Eerie’s whistle cut through the air. “Focus, Y/N!”

I bit my tongue and forced myself to serve again. This time, the ball clipped just inside the baseline. The girls behind me cheered, and I smirked. Until I noticed Akaashi watching, expression unreadable. He didn’t even nod, just turned back to Bokuto like I wasn’t worth his time.

By mid-morning, the girls’ and boys’ teams came together for mixed drills. My group rotated setters, which meant I had to toss for Karasuno’s hitters.

That’s when I ended up tossing for Karasuno’s wing spiker. Tanaka, I think? He had this wild energy that matched his shaved head.

“Give me something risky,” he grinned, bouncing on his toes.

“Risky’s my specialty.”

So I did. A fast, low toss that barely cleared the tape. He smashed it down like it was nothing. The Karasuno guys hollered, and even I couldn’t hold back a laugh.

For a moment, it felt good. My style clicked with his energy. No overthinking, just instinct. And when I caught Akaashi watching again, it only fueled me more.

That night, back in the cafeteria, Kaori plopped her tray down beside me. “Not bad today,” she said between bites. “No fights. No bloodshed. You actually kept your promise.”

I sipped my water, smirking. “What can I say? I’m evolving.”

She raised a brow. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

I just grinned and kept eating, but the truth was, for once, my head wasn’t stuck on Akaashi. Across the room, the boys’ team was their usual circus. Bokuto flailing mid-story, Konoha trying to shush him, Akaashi sitting quietly among the noise. He didn’t look at me, and I didn’t feel the need to look back.

Instead, my thoughts stayed on the day. The way Karasuno’s players matched my tempo without hesitation, how Shinzen’s block pushed me to think faster, how Nekoma’s defense made me test angles I hadn’t tried before. For the first time in a long while, it wasn’t just about beating someone. It was about figuring out how far I could go.

Later, back at the hotel, our room was a mess of energy. Half the girls sprawled across beds, the rest dug through snacks someone had smuggled into their bags.

“Shinzen’s middle was a giant,” one of my teammates groaned.

“More like a skyscraper,” another laughed. “I swear she looked down on me, and I shrank two inches.”

“Yeah, but you still scored off her,” I said, tossing a pillow across the room. “Don’t pretend you weren’t having your moment.”

The pillow hit her square in the face, and the room erupted into laughter. Before long, we were trading stories, teasing each other, and arguing over who snored the loudest.

I leaned back against the wall, smiling at the chaos. For once, my chest didn’t feel tight with frustration or rivalry. Instead, there was this restless buzz under my skin, a pull to get back on the court, to face whoever was next, to test myself again.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

Chapter Text

The second full day of camp hit harder than the first.

Morning was all drills. Endless rotations, serve receives, and defensive patterns that had us diving across the floor until our knees ached. Our coach kept barking about stamina, teamwork, and communication. By the end of the session, my shirt was plastered to me, and my hands were raw from setting.

But it wasn’t just punishment. Between the sweat and the shouting, I started noticing how much smoother we were compared to yesterday. Our swings were 10 times more aggressive. Our libero, Emi, read plays quicker, calling shots before the ball even left the server’s hand. Even I found myself syncing with hitters I hadn’t really connected with before.

Afternoon scrimmages were a different beast. We rotated courts against other schools. We played short sets, quick games, and everything was fast-paced. Losing stung, but it wasn’t the same kind of anger I used to feel. It was more like… motivation. Every point showed me what I had to fix, what we could sharpen. And honestly? It felt good to test ourselves against new styles instead of obsessing over the same quirks.

By the time dinner ended, most of my teammates stumbled toward our room, exhausted. But I, on the other hand, still had energy to burn.

So instead of heading upstairs, I grabbed my hoodie and slipped back out. Just a few more reps, I told myself. That was all I needed.

The campus was quiet, almost eerie, until I caught the faint thump of volleyballs from a side building. Curious, I followed the sound until I found one of the gyms lit up, doors cracked open.

Inside, chaos.

A boy with spiky blond hair and glasses deadpanned as he blocked a ball, barely moving like he couldn’t be bothered. Across from him, a tall black-haired guy with a lazy grin chased every ball like it was a game he already knew he’d win. Near the net, a short, orange-haired boy launched himself higher than seemed physically possible, slamming a ball over with a triumphant yell.

And then, of course, Bokuto. His voice booming, energy filling every inch of the gym, as Akaashi calmly set him ball after ball like nothing could shake his focus.

They all froze when they noticed me standing in the doorway.

“Well, look who it is,” The black-haired boy called. “Fukurodani’s infamous setter.”

“Ohhh, no way!” Bokuto waved frantically. “Y/N! Come play!”

Akaashi sighed, already annoyed. “It’s late. You shouldn’t even be here.”

“Neither should you,” I shot back.

The tall guy with black hair jogged up first, grin widening. “Guess introductions are in order. I’m Kuroo Tetsurō, captain of Nekoma.

The blond adjusted his glasses, barely acknowledging me. “Tsukishima Kei. Karasuno.”

The orange-haired one practically bounced in place. “Hinata Shōyō, also from Karasuno! Wanna rally with us?”

I glanced at the court, already itching to move. “You’re asking if I want to play? Hand me a ball.”

We started with a quick rally, and it was nothing like the structured drills from the day. Kuroo’s hits were a little wild, but kept the pace unpredictable. Hinata’s energy was relentless, his grin infectious every time he got a swing through. Tsukishima hardly said a word, but when he went up for a block, it felt like slamming into a wall.

I rotated in against Bokuto once, and he nearly knocked me off balance with the sheer force of his spike. “That’s more like it!” he cheered.

Even Akaashi, stoic as ever, had to adjust to me slipping into their rhythm. For a moment, I wasn’t the outsider sneaking in, I was just another player on the court, breathing hard, chasing points under the gym lights.

When the final ball dropped and we all collapsed onto the floor, sweat dripping, Kuroo glanced over at me. “Not bad. You keep up with us better than I expected.”

I smirked, wiping my face with my sleeve. “Guess you’ll just have to raise your expectations.”

Hinata laughed, Tsukishima rolled his eyes, Bokuto started yelling about another round, and even Akaashi didn’t argue this time.

For the first time, all camp, I felt like I belonged in a completely different way. Not just with my own team, but in this bigger world of volleyball I’d only brushed against until now.

The next few days fell into a rhythm. Every night, like clockwork, we’d all end up in the same gym, playing until the lights overhead flickered and warned us it was late. But it wasn’t just mindless scrimmaging. We were pushing each other, coaching each other in little ways that added up.

Kuroo had this habit of pulling Tsukishima aside mid-play, pointing out angles and timing, making him see blocking less like a wall and more like a puzzle. Bokuto, in between yelling at himself and Hinata, was teaching him how to disguise a feint so well it made even me flinch. The energy between them was insane, like everyone was constantly on the edge of breaking through to something new.

Somewhere in the middle of one rally, I messed up a set. My hands were too flat, the ball drifting off target. I expected the usual irritation from Akaashi, but instead, he quietly leaned in between plays. “Open your hands more. Give it some lift.”

For a second, my old instinct kicked in, the one that wanted to snap back and defend myself. But instead, I nodded, adjusted, and tried it his way. The very next rally, the set landed clean in Bokuto’s pocket, and he crushed it straight to the floor.

The gym went silent for a beat before Bokuto’s jaw dropped. “Wait!! You didn’t fight him on that?” he gasped, pointing between us like it was some world-ending event.

I smirked, wiping sweat from my face. “What can I say? I’m evolving.”

Akaashi only raised an eyebrow, but I caught the faintest curve of a smile before he turned back to the court.

We played until our legs were jelly and our voices were hoarse from calling plays. By the time we finally sprawled out on the gym floor, the place was quiet except for the hum of the lights overhead.

I was gathering my stuff when Akaashi’s voice cut through. “Do you want me to walk you back?”

I blinked at him, surprised. The offer was so simple, but the way he asked, it made my chest tighten in a way the games never did.

"Sure"

Chapter Text

I hesitated before answering, caught off guard by how casual Akaashi’s offer sounded. “Uh…sure,” I finally said, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

The walk back to the dorms was quieter than I expected. My footsteps echoed against the pavement, and every so often I glanced at him. He wasn’t much of a talker, but the silence didn’t feel awkward. It was steady, like the rhythm of the game we’d just played.

“You took my criticism better than I thought,” he said suddenly, eyes fixed ahead.

I laughed under my breath. “Don’t get used to it.”

That earned the tiniest smirk from him, the kind you’d miss if you weren’t looking.

After that day, one walk turned into two. Then three. By the last days of camp, it’s just what we do: play hard, stay late, then head back together.

Sometimes we talk, sometimes we don’t. Either way, it’s easy. No fights, no edge, just…simple.

And maybe that’s the weirdest part. I don’t think of him as the guy who's annoyed me since day one anymore. He’s just Akaashi, the one who ends up at my side when the night’s over.

That night, though, he did something different. Instead of stopping at the building like he always does, he followed me inside. I shot him a look, half curious, half confused.

“You’re actually walking me all the way?” I asked.

“I don’t mind,” he says quietly.

By the time we reach my door, I lean against the frame, still a little taken aback. “Thanks, Akaashi.”

He gives the faintest nod, calm as ever. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

And then he’s gone, and I realize that something as small as this, just walking back together, has become one of the better parts of the day.

At practice the next day, I catch myself smiling more than usual. Not just a small grin, this feels different, lighter. My teammates start to notice that the usual sparks between me and Akaashi are gone. No eye rolls, no tight words, no little digs. It’s like we’ve found some unspoken truce, and I don’t even mind it.

Later, at the dining table, Kaori drops it casually between bites of curry. “You’ve been…different these last couple of days,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “And you’re not snapping at Akaashi every five seconds. What’s going on?”

I shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just…tired?”

Kaori snorts. “Uh-huh. Sure, ‘tired.’ You mean you’re suddenly…nice?”

I groan, shoving some rice into my mouth. “Don’t make it sound like that.”

Back in the hotel room, my teammates aren’t subtle. They corner me as soon as I drop my bag.

“Seriously, Y/N, what’s going on with you?” Emi asks, nudging me. “You’ve got this nonstop happy look plastered on your face, and I swear you didn’t roll your eyes at Akaashi once today!”

“Yeah! Did you swap personalities with him or something?” another teases, bouncing onto the bed beside me.

“Maybe it’s because he’s been walking you back to our room every night,” Hana says, smirking knowingly.

I feel my cheeks heat up. “Wait- how did you know he was walking me back?!?”

They grin at me like it’s the funniest thing in the world. “Oh, come on,” Emi says, nudging me again. “We see you sneaking out every night. You and Akaashi, walking back together like a little…well, you know.”

I bury my face in my hands, mortified. “I can’t believe you all knew!”

“Relax,” one of them says, grinning. “It’s cute.”

I groan again, half laughing, half embarrassed. “I- maybe I’m just…thinking. And realizing he’s…not worth hating anymore.”

They all exchange knowing looks, smirking. “Finally,” one says, and the others laugh, teasing me relentlessly.

I peek up, trying to glare but failing, and a small smile escapes anyway. “I haven’t felt irritation toward him once this past week. Not a flicker. He…he just…doesn’t bother me anymore.”

A quiet thought drifts through my mind, soft but undeniable. I don’t hate him anymore.

Even as they keep joking, I can’t help laughing with them. It feels lighter than it has in years.

Later that night, Akaashi and Bokuto made their way toward the gym. The night air is cool, carrying the faint echo of bouncing volleyballs from inside. Bokuto, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, walks a few steps ahead before turning back with a teasing grin.

“You know,” Bokuto begins, nudging Akaashi with an elbow, “she’s been…different this week. Happier, calmer, even more…you know, relaxed.” He pauses, giving Akaashi a pointed look. “And the way you keep glancing at her? Don’t try to tell me that has nothing to do with it.”

Akaashi keeps walking, expression unreadable. “I’m not ‘glancing.’”

Bokuto laughs, shaking his head. “Uh-huh. Sure. The walks back every night, the way you watch her when she’s practicing. It’s not subtle. You’ve definitely influenced her.”

Akaashi hums thoughtfully, keeping his gaze on the path ahead. “She’s just…herself. I didn’t make her change.”

Bokuto stops for a moment, eyes narrowing. “Yeah, yeah, keep saying that. But I can see it. She’s smiling more, relaxed, and it’s because of you.”

Akaashi shrugs lightly. “Maybe. But it’s not like she needs me to fix anything.”

He watches as Bokuto disappears inside the gym, silent, letting the words settle. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realizes that maybe the last week hasn’t just changed her. It’s changed him too.

Akaashi pauses just outside the gym doors. Inside, everyone is just standing around, stretching and talking, the gym filled with the low hum of conversation and movement.

But it’s Y/N who catches his attention. She’s leaning slightly toward Kuroo and Hinata, laughing at something one of them just said. Her shoulders relax, her smile bright and genuine, completely unguarded. The way she tilts her head back as she laughs, the easy way she moves between moments, it’s different from how she usually carries herself on the court.

Akaashi finds himself watching a little longer than he intended. She’s…happy, he realizes quietly, letting the thought settle. Not just content, but really happy. The kind of carefree energy that’s rare for her. And it’s because she’s just being herself, surrounded by people she trusts, enjoying the game.

He shifts slightly, aware of Bokuto’s booming voice behind him, reminding him to focus, but he can’t help the small, almost imperceptible smile that tugs at his lips. It’s nothing overt, nothing dramatic, just a quiet acknowledgment of the change he’s seen in her over the past week.

For the first time in a long time, he doesn’t feel the need to correct, control, or compete. He just watches her, silently noting how far she’s come, and maybe, in the process, how far he has too.

Chapter Text

The last practice wrapped up in the morning, but instead of the usual rush to showers, everyone was told to stick around.

“We’ll end camp properly,” the coaches said.

By afternoon, the courts had emptied, and the smell of grilled food drifted across the fields.

Long tables stretched out under the late summer sky, packed with trays of food. The second they said “go ahead,” chaos broke loose.

“Bokuto, pace yourself! ” Kuroo barked as Bokuto stacked skewers onto his plate like he was preparing for battle.

“I am pacing myself!” Bokuto mumbled around a mouthful.

“You’re pacing yourself straight into cardiac arrest,” Tsukishima muttered, rolling his eyes.

I sat down with Kaori and a few others, but I didn’t stay put for long. Everyone was in too good a mood to stick to just one group. I ended up talking with Kenma about how he somehow managed not to get stepped on during Lev’s blocks, and then with Hinata, who was buzzing even while eating.

“Training with everyone here…this was the best,” Hinata said, grinning so hard his cheeks were pink.

“It’s like no matter where I end up, I want to remember this.”

“Same,” I admitted. “Thanks for…always pulling me into things this week. You make it impossible to just sit back and stay quiet.”

Hinata beamed like I’d just handed him a medal. “Then I did my job!”

Later, I found myself next to Tsukishima as he balanced his plate with one hand, expression as flat as ever.

“You’re not seriously going to miss this, are you?” he asked, like the concept was ridiculous.

I raised an eyebrow. “What, you aren’t?”

He smirked faintly, eyes flicking toward Hinata and Kuroo arguing over a skewer in the distance. “Let’s just say…it was more tolerable than I expected.”

“For you, that’s practically a love letter,” I teased, making him roll his eyes.

I spotted Kageyama Tobio from Karasuno standing near the edge of the barbecue and decided to say hello.

“Hi, you’re Kageyama, right? From Karasuno?” I asked.

He looked up, expression calm. “Yes. And you are?”

“I’m Y/N, setter for Fukurodani’s girls’ team,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he replied. “I noticed your team during the scrimmages. You have good control over your sets.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I’ve been watching your setting too. Very precise, everything seems to fall exactly where you want it.”

He gave a small nod. “I appreciate that. Timing and coordination are important, especially with a quick player like Hinata.”

“I can tell,” I said, smiling. “Watching you two makes me glad I’m not on the other side of the net; it looks like a nightmare to try and block.”

Kageyama looked at me with a small, approving smile. We said our goodbyes and promised we'd meet again at Nationals.

When I finally found Kuroo, he was half-coaching, half-joking, keeping everyone’s energy alive.

“Leaving already?” he asked when he noticed me lingering.

“Not yet. Just…wanted to say thanks. For the advice, and for not letting me get swallowed up this week.”

He gave me that easy grin. “Hey, don’t sell yourself short. Besides, I figured you’d survive. Especially with Akaashi trailing around.”

My face heated instantly. “That’s not-!”

He just laughed and waved me off, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

As the sun beamed and the fire pits glowed low, I caught Akaashi by one of the tables. He wasn’t loud like the others, but he didn’t seem separate either, just quietly observing, taking it in.

“Not bad for a send-off,” I said, coming up beside him.

“Not bad,” he agreed. “It’ll feel different tomorrow.”

We stood there for a while, watching Bokuto and Kuroo argue over who ate more, and Hinata darting between tables. It felt like we were all squeezing the last drops out of camp before it slipped away.

The bus smelled faintly of grass and charcoal from the barbecue, and everyone slumped into their seats after a long two weeks.

I hovered in the aisle for a moment, clutching the strap of my bag tighter than I needed to. There were plenty of empty seats left, but my eyes kept drifting back to where Akaashi was sitting, quietly scrolling through his phone.

Should I? Would it be weird? What if he wanted space after such a long week? My heart thudded faster, like this was more intimidating than facing a serve from Bokuto at full power.

It’s just a seat. You’re just asking to sit next to him. Totally normal. Totally fine.

I took a breath and finally forced the words out before I could overthink it anymore.

“Hey…do you mind if I sit here?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt inside.

He shifted slightly, making room. “Of course not.”

I slid in next to him, the hum of chatter filling the bus as we pulled away. At first, the conversation flowed easily. We replayed moments from camp. The chaos at the barbecue, Bokuto nearly setting the grill ablaze when he insisted on roasting three skewers at once.

“And then Lev tripped over the cooler?” I said, breaking into laughter at the memory, my hand flying up to cover my mouth.

“He’ll deny it forever,” Akaashi said, a smile tugging at his lips.

But as the road stretched on, the conversations thinned. The laughter around us turned into low murmurs and the steady rhythm of the tires on pavement.

I didn’t even notice how heavy my eyes felt until I blinked slower…and slower…

When I shifted, my head brushed against his shoulder, settling there without thought.

AKAASHI'S POV

I froze.

The noise of the bus dulled around me, replaced by the sharp awareness of her leaning against me. I didn’t dare move, not even to adjust my arm.

All week, I’d been careful. Careful with my words, careful with the space between us, careful not to let myself cross a line I couldn’t step back from. But now, with her head resting against me, all that carefulness felt like it was slipping through my fingers.

Her breathing was even, the kind that only comes with trust. She didn’t even think about it, she just…let herself rest. On me.

I stared out the window, but I wasn’t seeing the passing trees. I was thinking about the way she’d laughed earlier, unguarded and bright, like the week had shaken something loose in her. I was thinking about how easily she’d walked beside me at camp, how natural it had felt to wait for her, to listen, to notice.

And now I was thinking about how dangerous this was.

Because somewhere between the first night of camp and this quiet bus ride, I realized it wasn’t just tolerance anymore. It wasn’t even curiosity.

It was something I didn’t have a word for yet, something I wasn’t sure I wanted to name.

But as her head rested against my shoulder, I knew one thing for certain:

I didn’t want it to end with camp.

The bus slowed, pulling into the lot. I forced myself to look out the window, school buildings and flickering streetlights coming into view. The last stop before everything went back to normal.

“Hey, Akaashi.”

I blinked, realizing Bokuto was leaning over the seat in front of us, grinning like he’d just solved a riddle. His eyes darted to her still-sleeping figure, then back to me.

“C’monnn,” he whispered, barely containing his laugh. “Don’t think I didn't see that.”

Heat shot to my ears. “It’s not-”

“You like her,” he sing-songed, way too loud for comfort.

“Keep your voice down,” I hissed, shooting him a glare.

But Bokuto just smirked knowingly, shaking his head as the bus hissed to a stop. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”

I didn’t bother answering. Because deep down, I knew silence wasn’t much of a denial.

Chapter Text

School had returned to its usual rhythm. Practices were the same, drills and scrimmages went as expected, and the rest of Fukurodani’s volleyball team was bustling with the familiar energy of the season.

The training camp had left its mark, not just on me, but on everyone. Both the girls’ and boys’ teams seemed sharper, more aware on the court.

We were communicating better, reading each other’s movements faster, and even the atmosphere during practice felt lighter, more confident. Watching my teammates push themselves, I realized just how much we’d all grown in those two weeks.

That evening, after an exhausting practice, Kaori and I decided to grab dinner at our usual spot.

Sliding into a booth, I immediately felt the comfort of being somewhere familiar after the intensity of camp and the chaos of returning to school.

“So,” Kaori said, spinning her fork between her fingers like it was a magic wand, “spill it. You’ve been…acting weird lately.”

I froze, mid-bite. “Weird? Me? No.”

“Oh, don’t even lie,” she said, leaning across the table with a grin that made me want to groan. “I’ve been watching you all week. You’re…different. Around Akaashi, specifically. Laughing more, not rolling your eyes at every little thing. You’re…lighter, Y/N. It’s weirdly adorable.”

I waved my hands, trying to play it off, cheeks heating. “I’m not adorable. I’m…just…less annoyed than usual, okay?”

Kaori’s grin widened until it practically split her face in two. “Y/N, come on. Let’s be real, you like him.”

“WHAT? No!” I shot back, nearly choking on my food.

“Oh, don’t even try to act all confident. You’re sitting here denying it like your brain doesn’t betray you every time he’s around!” she laughed, slapping the table lightly. “C’mon, I’ve known you forever, I see it!”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands, trying to hide the fact that she was right, or at least, that I wasn’t entirely sure I was wrong.

“Okay, okay,” Kaori continued, leaning back with a victorious smirk. “Since we’re all admitting things…text him. Just say hi. It’s not a big deal, and I promise it won’t be the end of the world.”

“I don’t even have his number,” I mumbled, feeling suddenly very trapped.

Kaori rolled her eyes dramatically. “Of course you don’t. Lucky for you, I have all the boys’ numbers. Akaashi’s included. Consider it my gift to you.”

Kaori whipped her phone out like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. “Alright, moment of truth. Ready?”

I hesitated, staring at her hand. “Kaori…what if he thinks I’m…weird? Or that I-”

“Stop overthinking!” she snapped, laughing. “You’re overthinking everything. Just text him. A simple ‘hey, how are you’ that’s it. Nothing dramatic. Nothing embarrassing. And trust me, you’ll survive.”

I took a shaky breath, my fingers hovering over the screen. “Okay…okay, just…hey. That’s it.”

“Perfect,” Kaori said, practically bouncing in her chair. “You got this.”

With a small nod, I typed out the message: " Hey, it’s Y/N. How have you been?" My thumb hovered over ‘send’ for what felt like forever.

“Go on,” Kaori urged.

I hesitated a second longer, then pressed it. The message shot off instantly. My stomach sank. “Oh god. What if he…doesn’t reply?”

Kaori snorted, shaking her head like it was the funniest thing she’d ever seen. “Y/N, calm down. It’s literally a few words. He’s not going to explode. And even if he doesn’t answer right away, that’s fine too. You don’t know until you try.”

I groaned, hiding my face in my hands. “I feel…stupid. What was I thinking?”

Kaori leaned over and poked my arm. “Thinking? You were thinking maybe you like him. And that’s not stupid, it’s human. Now sit back, breathe, and let’s wait for the magic.”

I reluctantly sat back, staring at my phone like it was about to sprout legs and run away. Kaori grinned at me. “You’re lucky I’m here to make sure you don’t chicken out entirely.”

We finished our dinner, joking about practice mishaps and our teammates’ quirks to distract me from obsessing over my phone. I couldn’t stop imagining his reaction. Would he reply immediately? Would he even reply at all?

When I got home, I immediately flopped onto my bed, staring at the ceiling and clutching my phone like it held my entire future. Minutes stretched on, and my imagination ran wild.

“Great, he’s never going to respond. I look stupid,” I muttered to myself, burying my face in my pillow.

Then my phone buzzed. Heart hammering, I grabbed it and flipped it over.

Akaashi: Hey Y/N. Glad you texted. I was actually about to reach out. How’s your evening going?

I froze, staring at the screen. He actually texted back. My fingers hovered above the keyboard, unsure whether to respond immediately or overthink everything.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and typed back:

“Hey! I’m just relaxing now. I went out to dinner with Kaori. How about you?”

Within seconds, he replied:

Akaashi: I just got back from practice. The team’s energy was high, you can tell camp left a mark on everyone. I was actually thinking about how much you’ve improved too. It was impressive to watch last week.

I blinked at the screen, a small smile forming on my face. I hadn’t expected him to remember, or notice, or say something like that.

“Thanks!” I typed. “I mainly learned a lot from watching you. But it really makes a difference seeing how different teams approach the same game.”

Akaashi: Exactly. It’s one of the reasons camp is worth it. You absorb things you don’t always notice in practice at school. Makes you better, faster, smarter.

We continued talking, slipping into an easy rhythm.

The conversation started with volleyball, strategies, and the camp, but before long, it drifted into more personal territory. Somehow, we discovered we liked a lot of the same books and movies, and even more surprisingly, our favorite color was the same, green.

Time slipped by without us noticing. We laughed at small coincidences, shared stories from school, and teased each other about our stubborn habits. The hours melted away, and before I realized it, it was already past midnight.

I barely noticed how tired I was until my phone started slipping from my fingers. With a quiet laugh, I caught it just in time. “Okay…maybe I should call it a night,” I typed, smiling at his response before hitting send.

His reply came quickly: “Yeah, me too. Goodnight, Y/N. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight Akaashi, you too,” I sent back.

After sending that last message, I leaned back against my pillow, blinking at the ceiling. Somehow, talking to him felt effortless, like I’d known the real him for longer than just a week.

And then it hit me. Kaori was right. 

Chapter Text

With the spring prelims only a week away, practices had a different kind of edge. Every drill felt sharper, every rally heavier. Coach didn’t need to remind us of what was at stake, we all knew this was our chance to fight for nationals. Months of training, of sacrifices, of late nights, all of it came down to this tournament.

I could feel the weight of it pressing on me more than I wanted to admit. Every misstep, every mistimed set felt like the end of the world. My teammates noticed too. I wasn’t laughing as much, and wasn’t cracking stupid jokes between drills. My mind was running too fast, chasing the what-ifs.

During water break, I crouched against the wall, tugging at the hem of my shirt. My thoughts were loud enough to drown out the chatter in the gym. What if I mess up? What if I can’t handle the pressure?

“Your toss is slipping,” a calm voice said above me.

I looked up. Of course, it was Akaashi. He offered me my water bottle before crouching beside me like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I blinked. “…Did you just…steal that from my bag?”

“You forgot it. Again.” His tone was flat, but his eyes flicked toward me briefly, as if checking whether I was actually drinking it.

I snorted. “What are you, my personal assistant now?”

“Hardly,” he replied smoothly. “I’d rather not watch you collapse from dehydration before prelims.”

Something about the way he said it made me laugh, louder than I meant to. A few heads turned.

But as practice went on, I realized something had shifted. Every time I felt myself spiraling, my eyes drifted to Akaashi. He didn’t say much, didn’t do anything dramatic, but he was steady. His presence felt like a counterweight to the noise in my head

After practice, the gym emptied slowly, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor giving way to the soft hum of the night outside. I lingered to stretch, hoping to shake off the nerves coiled tight in my shoulders.

When I finally stepped out, Akaashi was leaning against the wall by the door, tying his jacket around his waist.

I raised an eyebrow. “Were you…waiting?”

He shrugged, like it was obvious. “You’re slower than everyone else. Thought I’d walk with you.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at my lips. “Wow, what an honor. My very own bodyguard.”

“You trip over benches often enough,” he said, “it’s probably safer this way.”

I laughed, the sound echoing into the quiet night. We walked side by side down the dimly lit street, the conversation flowing easier than it used to. At first, it was about volleyball, sets that felt good today, the mistakes we wanted to fix. But then it drifted.

Somehow, we ended up talking about little things. Teachers we didn’t like, the best ramen shops nearby, and laughing over how neither of us could survive morning practices without coffee. It wasn’t heavy, it wasn’t sharp, it was just…comfortable.

When we reached my turn, I slowed, looking at him. “Thanks for, you know…waiting. Again.”

He met my eyes, then nodded. “It’s nothing.”

But it didn’t feel like nothing.

As I slipped inside my house, I caught myself grinning at the memory of his straight-faced “personal assistant” comment. Out of everything that happened today, that was the thing that stuck the most.

It was ridiculous. And yet, as I buried my face in the pillow that night, sore and drained, I couldn’t help smiling.

The next afternoon, Kaori wasn’t the one to point it out this time, it was the team.

We’d just finished another long round of serve-receive drills, and as we collapsed onto the benches, I caught one of the girls nudging another with a smirk.

“You’re in a good mood,” one of them said, eyebrow arched.

I blinked. “I’m always in a good mood.”

They laughed. “No, usually you’re throwing towels at people by this point. Today you’re all smiles. Did something happen on your way home last night?”

Heat crawled up my neck instantly. “What are you even- nothing happened!”

“Uh-huh,” another teammate chimed in, grinning. “So you didn’t leave the gym with Akaashi? Because I swear I saw you two walk out together.”

I groaned, dragging my towel over my face. “Seriously? You guys keep track of that now?”

The bench erupted in laughter, and before I could defend myself, someone piped up with a sing-song voice: “Oooh, maybe he’s her good luck charm for prelims.”

That earned a round of teasing oohs and laughter, while I sat there red-faced, trying not to give them the satisfaction of seeing me flustered.

But the worst part? Even as I shoved them playfully and told them to shut up, I realized I was still smiling.

And no matter how much they teased, I couldn’t quite stop.

Chapter Text

The gym smelled like polished wood and adrenaline. I settled into the bleachers, my bag at my feet, trying to calm the storm in my chest.
Spring prelims were finally here. After months of training, late nights, scrimmages, and pushing myself past limits I didn’t think I could reach, this week felt like the ultimate test. Nationals was just a few wins away, and the pressure weighed heavier than ever.

The boys’ team was warming up across the court. Akaashi moved with that calm precision I’d come to expect, reading every hit and adjusting his positioning like he had eyes everywhere. Bokuto was a whirlwind of energy beside him, leaping, shouting, and laughing as he tried to match Akaashi’s composure.

I stayed in the bleachers, leaning forward, completely absorbed.

The way they worked together was chaotic yet perfectly synchronized. I found myself silently tracking Akaashi, noticing the small shifts in his stance, the subtle way he communicated with Bokuto without a word.

During a break, I wandered down to the sidelines, where Kuroo and Kenma were standing off the court, watching the game unfold.

“Hey, you two,” I called with a grin as I reached them. “Figured I’d watch the game with people who actually appreciate the chaos.”

Kuroo smirked, resting an elbow on his knee. “That’s what makes it fun, right?”

Kenma nodded slightly, glancing at the court.

I laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m just enjoying it. And maybe trying to store some tips for when I’m back on the court myself.”

Kuroo’s smirk widened. “Don’t sell yourself short. Watching you focus like this, I’d say you’d hold your own out there.”

I waved my hand dismissively, but the grin on my face betrayed me. “We’ll see. For now, I’m just a spectator.”

Akaashi POV 

I caught her watching me from the bleachers, leaning forward, eyes sharp and attentive. There was a subtle intensity in the way she followed the plays, the way her lips twitched with a grin at Bokuto’s antics.

When our eyes met, I froze slightly. That flutter of awareness, the way she seemed genuinely invested in what I was doing made something tighten in my chest.

She looked back at me quickly, almost shyly, and I allowed myself a small nod before returning my attention to the game.

Yet, even as I moved, a fraction of my focus lingered on her, noting how the sunlight caught her hair, the soft way her expression eased when she smiled.

I shook my head lightly and refocused. The court demanded my attention, but I couldn’t deny it. That moment, that brief connection, stayed with me longer than it should have.

**

The break ended too quickly. The whistle blew, and Akaashi and Bokuto dashed back into position, moving like they’d rehearsed every step a thousand times before.

I pressed my hands against the railing, heart hammering. It wasn’t because I was watching them anymore, I knew soon I’d be stepping onto a court of my own.

The rallies were fast and sharp, each point tugging the score back and forth.

The other side fought hard, but point by point, Fukurodani edged ahead until the scoreboard finally showed match point.

With one last block, the ball hit the floor on the opponent’s side, and the boys erupted in cheers.

Bokuto’s voice boomed louder than everyone else’s, while Akaashi allowed himself only the smallest smile, already ushering his team back into line.

I clapped from the bleachers, unable to stop my grin. They’d earned it, and watching them win only fueled the nerves bubbling in my stomach. My turn was next.

Back in our gym, a familiar mix of nerves and excitement coiled in my stomach. This was it: the first game of the spring prelims.

“Y/N, you good?” one of my teammates asked, giving me a quick nod of encouragement.

I forced a smile. “Yeah…let’s do this.”

I slipped my bag off my shoulder, leaning against the wall for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves.

My hands trembled slightly. Not from the game, but from anticipation.

I pulled out my phone almost absentmindedly, scrolling through notifications before setting it down again.

A new message from Akaashi caught my eye:

“Good luck today, Y/N. I know you’ll do great.”

A small, quiet smile tugged at my lips. My stomach did a little flip.

Tucking my phone away, I followed my teammates toward the court. Before the game started, we gathered in a tight huddle, everyone’s hands stacked together in the center.

“Okay, listen up,” one of our seniors began, voice steady but warm. “We’ve worked so hard for this. Every set, every practice. It all leads to this moment. Trust yourselves. Trust each other. We’ve got this.”

I glanced around, meeting the determined eyes of my teammates. “We play like we know how,” another added, “and no matter what, we’ve got each other’s backs.”

I squeezed their hands, feeling a rush of calm wash over me. Their confidence, their energy, it was contagious.

“Let’s do this,” I whispered, mostly to myself, but my teammates echoed it in unison.

The whistle blew, and we took our positions. My heart pounded, not fear, but anticipation, excitement, the kind that comes when you know all your hard work is about to pay off. The first rally was messy. Nerves and adrenaline tangled together, but I quickly found my rhythm. Every pass and set flowed more smoothly than I expected.

Halfway through the set, I could feel the energy shift. We were reading each other better, anticipating plays. I dug a ball that I thought I had no chance on, and my teammate smashed it across the net for a point. My teammates cheered, and for a moment, I let myself grin. This is what it was all about.

By the second set, we were in a groove. My arms ached, my legs burned, but none of it mattered. We were synchronized, almost instinctively, and I could see the same determination mirrored in their faces.

Finally, after a tense rally that had everyone on their toes, the final point landed on the other side of the net. The whistle blew, and the gym erupted in cheers. I sank to my knees for a moment, hands on the floor, catching my breath.

“You did amazing, Y/N!” one teammate exclaimed, grabbing my shoulder. The smiles around me were contagious. My chest felt warm with pride and relief.

Coach Eerie jogged over, clapping her hands. “That’s how you execute under pressure! I don’t care if it was a squeaker or a clean sweep, you all kept your composure and played like a team. I couldn’t be prouder.”

I beamed, chest still pounding from adrenaline, and nodded along with my teammates. “Great job, everyone! Every set, every pass. We earned this.”

Later, as we started gathering our things, I pulled my phone out almost automatically. A new message lit up the screen:

“You played beautifully today. I knew you could do it. Congratulations.”

My cheeks heated, and I couldn’t help the small grin spreading across my face. I had no idea he was watching. I quickly typed back:

“Thanks, Akaashi! I couldn’t have done it without my team. But your encouragement definitely helped “

I slipped my phone back into my bag, feeling a mix of pride and something warmer I couldn’t quite name.

Turning back to my team, I realized this was just the beginning. “First win,” I said aloud, letting my excitement bubble through. “And there’s more to go.”

Coach Eerie gave us one last look, satisfied. “Keep this momentum. Rest, recover, and be ready. The next match is coming up, and I want to see the same energy, the same focus, and maybe even more of that heart you showed today.”

I nodded, fists lightly clenching. Yeah, this was just the start.

Chapter Text

The locker room buzzed with energy even as we packed up, but there wasn’t much time to celebrate. Our coach reminded us that the bracket didn’t stop for anyone, we had another match later in the day.

By the time we stepped back onto the court, my body was still sore, but the adrenaline hadn’t faded. The second game felt different. It less about nerves, more about rhythm. We already had one win under our belt, and it showed.

The rallies were intense, but we never lost our focus. Pass after pass connected, sets flowed cleanly, and the hitters delivered when it mattered. There were moments where we slipped, sure, but every time someone faltered, another teammate was there to cover.

Two sets later, the whistle blew, and the scoreboard told the story we wanted: another victory.

The cheer that erupted from our side of the court was even louder this time. Back-to-back wins in a single day. My chest heaved with exhaustion, but pride drowned out the ache in my legs.

By the time the bus pulled back into our school lot, the sky was already dark. The seniors had ordered pizza, and soon we were sprawled across the gym floor, sweaty hair still damp, uniforms rumpled, paper plates balanced on our knees.

The air smelled of pepperoni and cheese, and the laughter was almost louder than it had been on the court. Someone pulled out their phone for a group photo, and we all crowded in, still buzzing from the day’s wins. The picture was messy, half of us mid-bite, someone flashing a peace sign, but it looked exactly like how it felt: a team.

I leaned back against the wall, pizza crust in hand, and let the noise wash over me. My phone was tucked beside me in my bag, but I didn’t need to check it. The quiet reminder of Akaashi’s message from earlier lingered in my mind, steady and grounding.

"Good luck today, Y/N. I know you’ll do great."

He hadn’t needed to say anything else. That one line had carried me through both matches, through every nerve and every point.

Later that night, when I finally collapsed into bed, I thought about the day. The two wins, the laughter, the pizza. But mostly, I thought about how one short message had made me feel like I could take on anything.

Tomorrow would bring new pressure, new opponents. But tonight, I let myself fall asleep smiling.

The morning came too fast. My body ached in every muscle, and I could still feel the heaviness in my legs from yesterday’s back-to-back matches. But there was no time to complain, we had to win two games today if we wanted a shot at the championship.

The bus ride was quieter than usual. Everyone had headphones in or leaned against the windows, conserving energy. I sat with my knees pulled up, water bottle balanced in my lap. My phone buzzed, and I glanced down.

Akaashi: Tough day ahead. Don’t overthink. Just play.

I bit my lip, trying to hide my grin. He always knew the right thing to say. Not too much, not too little. Just enough.

Easier said than done. But I’ll try.

Akaashi: I’ll be watching.

My stomach flipped, and suddenly the morning felt a little brighter.

The first game was a battle. Our opponents came out sharp, firing off serves that made us scramble. But once we found our rhythm, the tide turned. Every block, every dig, every cheer from the bench pushed us closer. When the final point landed, we collapsed into a messy huddle, sweaty arms around shoulders, laughter spilling out of us.

Coach Eerie gave us a quick pep talk. Nothing long, just enough to keep us grounded. “Don’t get comfortable. One more win and we’re in the championship. Play your game, and trust it.”

Between matches, we camped out in the hallway with snacks. I was unwrapping a granola bar when Bokuto suddenly appeared, crouching so close I nearly dropped it.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, eyes wide. “Do you think I’d look cooler if I yelled my own name when I score?”

I blinked at him, then burst out laughing. “You already yell after every point! Do you really need to add your own name into it?”

“Yes!” Bokuto threw his hands in the air, already imagining it. “Picture it: ‘BOKUTOOOOO!’” He dragged it out so long that people down the hall turned their heads.

I covered my face, laughing so hard my stomach hurt. “You’re ridiculous.”

Across the hall, Akaashi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t encourage him.”

Bokuto pouted, pointing at me. “She laughed! That means it’s genius.”

I smirked, still giggling. “Sure, Bokuto. Totally championship-level material.”

His grin returned instantly. “Knew it!”

The second match wasn’t just another game. Everyone felt it, the tension hanging over the court, the roar of the crowd sharper than before.

From the start, it was intense. The other team pushed us to our limits, every rally dragging longer, every point feeling like it could tip the whole set. Mistakes hit harder, and my chest tightened with every misstep.

Timeouts were quick, frantic, but Coach Eerie’s voice stayed steady: “You’ve worked for this. Don’t panic. Trust each other.”

When nerves threatened to take over, I forced myself to look up, and there he was. Akaashi stood near the back of the gym, calm as ever, eyes on me. Our gazes met for only a second, but his small nod was enough to steady my breathing.

Late in the third set, we were tied. My body screamed in protest, but adrenaline kept me moving. A ball flew wide, and I dove, arms burning, chest hitting the floor hard. Somehow, I kept it alive. My teammate smashed it back over, and when the whistle blew in our favor, momentum shifted.

Point by point, we fought. Every cheer from our bench rattled through my bones, every successful rally pulling us closer.

Then, match point. The spike flew at us, fast and ruthless. My teammate’s pass was clean, the set sharp, and the hit thundered across. The ball clipped the blocker’s fingertips and dropped just inside the line.

The whistle’s shrill cry broke the air.

For a heartbeat, the gym went silent in my head. Then it erupted.

We’d done it. We were going to the championship.

I dropped to my knees, laughter and tears stinging my eyes all at once. Teammates swarmed me, arms around shoulders, voices raw from shouting. The relief, the pride, it was overwhelming.

By the time the bus pulled back into our school lot, everyone was drained. Some players were singing half-heartedly, others had already dozed off against the windows, hair still damp with sweat. The energy was different than yesterday, but in a good way. Like we all understood the weight of what we’d just earned.

Coach let us gather our things without a lecture, just a rare smile and a simple, “Rest up. Tomorrow, we make history.”

In the locker room, the chatter was softer than usual, full of tired laughs and little comments about plays we’d never forget. Someone tugged out a bag of leftover snacks from earlier, granola bars, fruit, gatorades, and we passed them around like it was a feast.

I leaned against my locker, chewing slowly, letting the moment settle. My phone buzzed again.

I leaned against my locker, still catching my breath, when my phone buzzed.

Akaashi: Finals tomorrow… you ready?

I smiled and typed back.

Ready? More like terrified, but yeah… let’s do this.

Akaashi: Terrified is good. Means you care. Just...…don’t overthink it, or I’ll have to come yell at you.”

No promises. But I’ll try… maybe dream about winning tonight.

Akaashi: Deal. And hey… you already made today look easy. Finals are just bonus points.

I tucked my phone away, giggling to myself. He always had a way of making everything feel a little lighter, and somehow, that made me feel braver, too.

That night, I lay in bed with sore muscles and a restless heart. I thought about the dives, the saves, the final point dropping inside the line. But more than that, I thought about the look in my teammates’ eyes when we realized together, we’d actually done it.

Tomorrow would be the biggest game yet. And for the first time, the nerves didn’t scare me.

They fueled me.

Chapter Text

The morning of the finals felt heavier than any other.

The air was charged the second I walked into the gym, banners fluttering overhead, the smell of polished court floors hitting me like a memory.

The boys had finished their matches yesterday, winning the whole thing and securing a spot at nationals.

Their celebration had been loud, sweaty, and full of chest bumps that echoed through the gym.

Now, it was our turn.

Warm-ups were still an hour away, and I needed to clear my head.

My nerves buzzed like static, so when I caught Akaashi leaning against the wall near the entrance, scrolling absently on his phone, I didn’t even hesitate.

“Skipping out on team duties?” I teased, nudging his arm.

He slipped his phone into his pocket, giving me that calm half-smile that always settled me. “Just waiting for you.”

My chest warmed at the casual way he said it. “Oh really? You’re supposed to be the serious one.”

“Serious enough to know you’d overthink if you sat in the locker room too long,” he said smoothly, then tilted his head toward the hallway.

“Walk with me?”

We drifted through the arena together, the hum of distant crowds just starting to build. The halls smelled faintly of popcorn and sports tape, banners for different schools plastered on the walls.

I tugged at the hem of my jacket, trying to quiet the nerves in my stomach.

“You’re quiet,” Akaashi said softly, hands tucked in his pockets.

“Just… finals,” I admitted, staring down at my sneakers. “What if I choke? What if today isn’t enough?”

He slowed, turning toward me. “Then you’ll do what you’ve done every other time. You’ll fight through it. And if you fall, your team’s going to be there to catch you. That’s the whole point, right?”

I blinked at him, the words settling into me like a steady anchor. “You always know what to say.”

“I told you,” he smirked, “that’s kind of my thing.”

I laughed, nudging his shoulder, and for a moment, the weight in my chest lightened.

Finals.

The crowd was louder, bigger, sharper than anything we’d faced this season. Every cheer rattled through my chest.

Five sets.

That was all that stood between us and the championship.

The first set slipped away fast. They came out swinging. Powerful serves, ruthless blocks, and a confidence that rattled us before we even found our rhythm.

We clawed at points, but when the whistle blew, it was theirs.

The second set was ours.

We fought fire with fire. Our bench screamed with every dig, block, and swing that landed untouched.

When we clinched the last point, our huddle exploded, arms tight around shoulders, voices hoarse but alive.

The third set? They snatched it back. Their hitters were merciless; every mistake of ours punished instantly.

By the end, sweat poured into my eyes, my lungs burned, and we were down 1–2.

Fourth set. Do or die. Lose this, and it was over.

The rallies were brutal. Shoes squeaked, bodies collided with the floor, voices rang across the court like thunder. No one gave an inch.

After a long rally they took, their captain smirked at me. “Nice hustle. Shame it’s wasted.”

Heat flared in my chest. I took a step forward before two teammates grabbed my arms.

“Y/N, don’t,” one hissed.

“She’s trying to get in your head,” the other muttered. “Play your game.”

The whistle blew. I clenched my fists, forcing myself back into position, heart hammering.

The scoreboard read 18–18. Every point felt like life or death.

The next rally stretched on endlessly. I tracked their outside hitter as she wound up for a swing, eyes locked on me.

I jumped to block, arms reaching as high as I could.

I landed, ready to sprint toward the loose ball, but the instant my feet hit the ground, a sharp, sickening pop ripped through my knee.

Pain exploded like fire, stealing my breath and balance.

My hands shot to my leg instinctively, clutching at it, but it wouldn’t hold me. My body crumpled to the floor, chest heaving, mind spinning.

The whistle shrilled.

The gym went silent.

My teammates froze, eyes wide, faces pale.

Two of them reached for me instinctively, gripping my arms and shoulders to stop me from trying to push up.

“Y/N! Don’t move!” one shouted.

“Just breathe!” the other said, holding me tight.

The other team’s smirks faltered.

And then I saw him.

Akaashi, in the stands, already on his feet.

His calm, steady presence was gone, replaced by wide eyes and a rigid posture.

He wasn’t shouting, wasn’t waving, just staring at me, like every second I stayed down was agony for him too.

The roar of the crowd, the echoes of the ball, everything vanished.

All that remained was my ragged breathing, the white-hot pain in my knee, and the knowledge that in a single moment, everything we’d fought for could slip away

Chapter Text

Chaos.

My vision blurred with pain and sweat as my teammates hovered over me. Hands gripped my arms and shoulders, keeping me from moving, while others bent down, checking my knee.

“Stay still, Y/N! Don’t even try!” one yelled.

“I’ve got her,” another muttered, guiding me gently toward the sideline.

The crowd had gone silent, and even the other team’s smirks had disappeared, replaced by a faint tension that hadn’t faltered from before.

Coach rushed over, her voice low but firm.

“Trainer. Now.”

A medic appeared, kneeling beside me.

Cold hands gripped my knee, pressing and testing, and the pain flared sharp.

My teeth clenched, and I let out a ragged breath, trying to steady myself.

“Can you move it?” the trainer asked, voice calm but urgent.

“I—I don’t think so,” I whispered, my throat tight.

“Okay. We’re going to get you off the court carefully. Just lean back on us.”

My teammates supported me as we carefully walked off the court, each step sending jagged pain up my leg.

I caught a glimpse of the scoreboard through blurry eyes.

One more set, and it would be over.

“Y/N, hey,” one of my teammates said, squeezing my shoulders gently as we reached the sideline.

“Don’t worry. We’ve got this. You just focus on getting better. We’re going to win this set for you.”

Another teammate chimed in, voice firm but soft.

“Seriously, don’t even think about it. We’ve got everything covered. You’ve done your part now let us handle the rest.”

I blinked back tears, my chest tightening with both pain and gratitude. “You really mean that?”

“Of course,” they said in unison, eyes locked on mine. “We’ve got you, always.”

The trainer guided me to the cot.

Cold packs were pressed to my knee, stabilizers wrapped gently, but the pain was still white-hot, radiating through my leg.

I tried to breathe through it, focusing on their words, feeling their strength surround me.

After a few minutes, the trainer gave a quick nod. “We’ve done all we can for now. Rest, keep it elevated, and stay off it.”

Then they left, closing the door softly behind them.

The silence hit me like a wall.

The adrenaline drained faster than I expected, leaving my body trembling, not just from pain, but from everything catching up to me.

I let my head fall into my hands, a low, quiet sob escaping before I could stop it.

And then the door opened.

Akaashi stepped in.

His presence immediately shifted the air in the room. Not with tension, but with focus.

He hesitated when he saw me curled slightly on the cot, shoulders shaking, tears dampening my face

“I saw what happened,” he said quietly, stepping closer.

His eyes scanned my face, landing on the small beads of sweat and the tight line of my jaw. “I just… wanted to see you.”

I sniffled, trying to sit up, but the pain shot through my knee, forcing me back down.

“I—I’m fine,” I managed, voice cracking despite me.

He crouched beside me, careful not to crowd, eyes locked on mine.

“No, you’re not. And that’s okay. It’s a lot. You’re allowed to… just let it out.”

I shook my head, but another sob broke free.

“I—everything… it’s just too much,” I whispered. “I wanted to help… I wanted to—”

“You did,” he interrupted gently, pressing a hand lightly to my shoulder.

“You always do. You’ve done more than you realize. Right now, the team’s got the game. You’ve earned a break. You don’t have to carry it all.”

I let my head fall against his arm, the tremble in my body steadying slightly as he rubbed slow, reassuring circles on my back.

His voice was calm, grounded, and it felt like it was holding me together when I couldn’t hold myself.

“I’m… scared,” I admitted, voice muffled. “I didn’t want it to end like this.”

“You’re not alone,” he said firmly, but softly enough to soothe rather than scold. “And it’s not over. You’re going to be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

I closed my eyes, letting the tears come and go, letting the sharp pain and the frustration fade into something I could breathe through.

For the first time since collapsing on the court, it felt like I could let myself rest, even just a little.

Outside, the muffled sounds of the gym still hummed faintly through the walls, a reminder that the finals were still happening.

But in that moment, all that mattered was the quiet presence beside me, the steadying warmth of someone who refused to let me face this alone.

Chapter Text

The muffled roar of the crowd pulsed through the walls like thunder.

Every cheer, every whistle, every frustrated groan cut into me, reminding me where I wasn’t.

I wanted so badly to be out there with them, fighting, but the ice pack strapped to my knee was a constant, merciless reminder.

Akaashi hadn’t left. He sat in the chair pulled up beside my cot, elbows on his knees, calm as ever, though I caught his gaze flick toward me more often than the floor.

His quiet was steadying, like he was trying to anchor me against the storm outside.

A knock broke the silence. The door creaked open, and Kaori slipped in first, her wide eyes darting from my knee to my face. Behind her, my parents followed, worry carved deep into their features.

“Y/N,” my mom breathed, rushing forward, crouching down to brush the damp hair off my forehead. “Oh, sweetheart…”

Kaori hovered uncertainly near the door until I held out my hand. She darted over, grabbing it tight. “I told them what happened,” 

Dad’s voice was steady but tight as he looked to the wrapped knee. “How bad?”

“The trainer stabilized it,” Akaashi answered before I could. His tone was calm, factual. “She’s in pain, but she’s not alone. They’ll need scans to know the rest.”

“And you are?” My father said curiously scanning the boy by my side.

”Akaashi Keiji, I’m y/ns friend sir.” Akaashi said holding out his hand, firmly shaking my father already extended one.

I swallowed hard, my throat thick. “I’m okay,” I tried to say, trying to convince everyone around me, but my voice cracked halfway through.

Kaori squeezed my hand tighter. “You don’t have to be okay right now.”

Her words hit harder than I expected, and suddenly I was crying again, leaning into my mom’s arms as Kaori rubbed my hand with small, nervous circles.

Dad sat stiffly, jaw tight, but his hand found my shoulder, steady and protective.

From beyond the door, the crowd erupted in cheers. Loud, sharp, desperate. My heart jumped. “What’s happening?” I asked, looking at Akaashi.

He tilted his head, listening. “I’ll go out and see but judging by the sound of it, it’s the fifth set,” he murmured. “And they’re fighting.”

Kaori sniffed, blinking quickly. “They said they were going to win it for you,” she reminded me. “And they meant it.”

Mom kissed the side of my head, her voice warm and firm. “You’ve already done your part, honey. You gave them something to fight for.”

Dad finally spoke, low and steady. “Now let them finish it.”

I clutched Kaori’s hand tighter, my chest tight with both pain and pride.

I couldn’t be out there, but maybe, just maybe, that didn’t mean I wasn’t part of it anymore.

The walls shook with the next cheer, and I closed my eyes, imagining the court, imagining my team battling for every point.

My parents hurried out of the office to find the trainer, while Kaori stepped out to watch the game, leaving me in the too-quiet office with the sound of the crowd muffled through the walls.

I tried to focus on breathing, but every cheer from the gym made my chest twist tighter.

I wanted to be out there.

I should’ve been out there.

Then the noise swelled, louder than before.

One long, deafening roar.

The kind of sound that only came when it was over. My heart pounded in my ears, bracing for either heartbreak or relief.

The door burst open a moment later. My captain rushed in first, eyes glassy, cheeks flushed from the match. “We did it!” she gasped, gripping my hand like she’d never let go. “Y/N we won. Fifth set. Nationals.”

The rest of the team piled in behind her, still in their rumpled jerseys, hair plastered to their faces, voices hoarse from yelling.

They looked exhausted, but their smiles told the whole story.

“You’re kidding,” I whispered, afraid it wasn’t real.

“Nope,” one of the middles grinned, throwing her arms up.

“We’re going to nationals, baby!”

My libero crouched by my good side, taking my hand gently. “We told you we’d do it for you. And we meant it.”

Tears stung my eyes before I could stop them. “I’m so proud of you guys.”

“We’re proud of you,” my captain shot back, squeezing my shoulder. “We wouldn’t have even gotten here without you.”

Another leaned in with a watery smile. “Don’t you worry we’ll carry this the rest of the way. Nationals, all of it. You just focus on getting better.”

They all crowded closer, careful not to bump my leg, voices overlapping with encouragement: we’ve got you, we’re not stopping here, you’re still part of this team no matter what.

For a moment, surrounded by them, I had forgot the pain in my knee.

All I could feel was love, loyalty, and the wild, dizzy pride of what we’d just accomplished.

It was later, after the trainer checked me again and the team had gone to celebrate with their families, that the door creaked open once more.

Akaashi stepped inside quietly, hands in his pockets, eyes softer than I’d ever seen them. He didn’t try to break the silence right away, just moved to the chair beside me.

“They won,” I whispered, my voice still shaky.

He nodded. “I know. I watched the last set. But I figured you’d want someone here after.”

The tears came hot and fast, spilling down my cheeks before I could stop them. “I can’t play,” I choked out. “Nationals and I won’t even be on the court. What if I never get back? What if—”

My voice broke, and I pressed my face into my hands, shoulders shaking.

Akaashi’s hand slid gently over mine, grounding. “Hey,” he said quietly, steady as ever. “You don’t have to worry about that right now. You’re allowed to break down. But right now you need to focus on getting better, not for your team, but for yourself. Nationals will be here next year and after your recovery you’ll be stronger than ever.”

I let out a shaky laugh through the tears. “You always know what to say.”

His smirk flickered, soft but sure. “I told you, that’s kind of my thing.”

The next morning, the hospital felt too bright, too sterile. My parents sat beside me, worry etched deep on their faces.

The doctor came in with a clipboard, his voice calm but firm. “The scans are back. You’ve torn a major ligament in your knee. It’s going to require surgery, followed by several months of rehabilitation.”

My stomach dropped. “So I’m… done for the season?”

He gave a small nod. “For now, yes. But you will recover. With therapy, you’ll come back strong enough to play again.”

I forced a shaky smile for them, even though the words “for now” felt like a weight pressing on my chest.

That night, my parents helped me home, fussing over pillows and blankets until I was settled on the couch.

When the house finally quieted, I noticed a basket waiting on the coffee table.

”What’s that?” I said pointing to the large basket.

”Oh a special someone came by and dropped it off for you.” My mom said smirking as she walked over, placing the basket on my lap.

It was overflowing. My favorite snacks, a soft blanket, a candle with my favorite scent: vanilla, even a silly keychain I’d pointed out once in a store.

Nestled in the middle was a folded note.

My fingers trembled as I opened it.

Y/N,

You don’t have to carry everything all the time. Let yourself rest, just this once. The court will wait for you. And so will I.

–Akaashi

I pressed the note to my chest, curling into the blanket, the ache in my knee sharp but my heart steadier than it had been in days.

For the first time since the fall, I felt something other than fear.

I felt hope.