Author's note: the next chapter is about Daichi's death 🥀, it's been a while since I updated but it's because I was busy with my studies and my family and I moved So I didn't have enough time to write, I was also thinking about how I'm going to finish this fic so hahaha that's also kept me busy
You and Yachi took seats in the front row of the stands, right in front of the court, looking for a spot where you could cheer clearly and up close. While the blonde walked over to the metal fence that separated the spectators from the playing field, you let yourself fall into one of the plastic chairs with a sigh, uncomfortable and cold to the touch.
With your elbows resting on your knees, you began to read, without much enthusiasm, the colorful banners decorating the gym walls, one after another, recognizing the names of the schools that would be facing off throughout the day. Some were simple, others so over-the-top that they seemed more intent on intimidating than inspiring.
You still had Kei’s glasses on your head, worn like a headband. You put them on again out of curiosity, blinking several times when your vision turned blurry from the stronger prescription. You frowned, but instead of taking them off entirely, you began to play with them—lifting them up, pulling them down, comparing how the letters looked from afar with and without them. The difference was obvious, almost amusing.
That’s when you noticed Yachi’s gaze fixed on you. She had turned from the fence and was watching you with an expression somewhere between amused and confused.
“Are you excited?” you asked, standing up from your seat to walk over to her side.
“Yes… though also a little nervous,” she replied, shrugging slightly before turning her attention back to the court.
The teams were beginning to take their positions, lining up on either side of the net while the referees carried out a final inspection of the playing area. From where you were, you could see Daichi shaking hands with the opposing captain, his grip firm, conveying both respect and determination. He then gave a short nod, listening to the referee’s last instructions with a serious expression.
Your gaze shifted to the bench, where Coach Ukai stood with his arms crossed, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration. Beside him, Kiyoko was reviewing some notes, and Takeda-sensei nodded energetically, visibly nervous but excited. The familiarity of that scene filled you with a sudden wave of melancholy. You missed being down there, so close to the action, your heart beating in sync with the rhythm of the game.
"Ahh, I miss being down there..." you murmured, lowering your head slightly as your fingers fidgeted with the seam of your track pants.
"Me too..." Yachi whispered, smiling gently. "But I have to admit, I like being at a safe distance from the ball."
She lifted her hand briefly and rested it on your forearm in a comforting gesture before pulling it back and leaning her head on it, propping her arm on the railing in front of the stands.
"Being up here doesn’t save us from getting hit," you commented, half serious, half amused, watching as one of the players got into position to serve. As soon as the whistle blew, marking the start of the first set, you felt the usual tension sweep through the stands.
The ball crossed the net with speed, and the opposing team moved with precision. You glanced briefly at Hinata, who was already dashing across the court with his unmistakable energy, light on his feet as if his shoes barely touched the ground.
"They’re not exactly gentle," you continued, keeping your eyes fixed on the court as you spoke. "Hinata’s hit me with the ball a few times when we play in my yard now and then."
Yachi turned to you, eyes slightly widened in surprise.
"But I hit it back even harder," you added with a proud smile, crossing your arms with a defiant air—even though you knew your skills were nowhere near his level.
The roar of applause after Karasuno scored the first point made you sit up a little straighter, joining in the claps and cheers of support.
Johzenji’s playing style was completely different from Karasuno’s… and from any other team you’d seen so far. While most teams carried out their plays with an almost choreographed precision—anticipating each move, executing strategies honed through hours of practice—Johzenji seemed to operate under a completely different logic… if it could even be called logic.
From your spot in the stands, elbows resting on your knees and eyes locked on the court, you watched with growing bewilderment. The Johzenji players moved with overwhelming energy, but no clear direction. Each one chased after the ball as if he were the only one who could reach it, paying little attention to their teammates’ positioning. They often collided with each other, burst out laughing when they missed a pass, and seemed to enjoy every second as if it were a backyard game between friends.
From your perspective, if you hadn’t known this was an official competition—a crucial match in the Spring Tournament—you could’ve sworn you were watching an informal practice. And yet… despite the chaos, something about their play actually worked. There was a contagious energy to it. A complete confidence in the next move, even if they didn’t know what it would be.
“They’ve got no order at all, but they’re still scoring,” Yachi commented beside you, almost as if she had read your thoughts.
You both turned your attention back to the game. The match against Johzenji had been intense—chaotic, vibrant, and at times, unpredictable—but Karasuno had managed to come out on top through effort and focus. Despite the relief and joy from the victory, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the opposing team. They had played with passion and spirit, and it was clear how much fun they had on the court.
But someone had to go home—and thankfully, this time, it wasn’t you.
Wasting no time, you hurried down the bleacher steps, almost running, eager to reunite with your teammates. The sound of the final whistle still rang in your ears as you made your way through the crowd to reach them. Hinata was the first to see you, his smile as radiant as the sun in his last name .
“We did it!” he shouted, raising his hand.
“Great job!” you shouted, raising your hand.
Hinata turned at the sound of your voice and, without a second thought, ran over to high-five you with full force. The clap echoed loudly, but neither of you flinched—instead, you both burst into contagious laughter.
“You were amazing, Kageyama,” you told the boy who had stopped next to Hinata, still with a light sheen of sweat on his forehead and his cheeks flushed from the effort.
The setter’s blue eyes softened slightly at your words. Without saying much, he gave a small nod, the gesture subtle but genuine.
“Thanks,” he replied in a low but firm tone, taking one of the water bottles Kiyoko was handing out with her usual calm efficiency.
“You too, Kei!” you called out enthusiastically as Tsukishima passed by. You gave him a pat on the back—firm and deliberately harder than usual—causing the blond to stop in his tracks, startled by the unexpected gesture.
Tsukishima immediately frowned, turning his face toward you with a barely concealed expression of annoyance. His eyes, behind his glasses, studied you with a mix of disbelief and silent reproach.
“Can you act normal for once?” Tsukishima muttered dryly, raising a brow with his usual blend of sarcasm and restrained irritation. Despite the complaint, he didn’t move away or try to put distance between you.
“No,” you replied with the most serious expression you could muster—though the effect was undermined by your glasses slipping down the bridge of your nose.
Tsukishima let out an exasperated sigh and, without warning, pushed your glasses up with a finger, pressing them unnecessarily hard against the bridge of your nose. Then, he shamelessly pinched your nose.
“Ow! Hey, that hurts!” you protested, swatting his hand away, but your complaint was cut short when a figure approached the group.
It was one of Dateko’s blockers—Aone—his gaze steady and posture upright, like a wall made of muscle and resolve. He stopped in front of Hinata without sparing any of you a glance.
“Tomorrow, I’ll stop you,” he said simply, his deep voice carrying the weight of an inevitable sentence.
He didn’t wait for a reply. He turned and walked away with the same solemnity with which he had arrived, leaving behind a tension that seemed to sweep away all the lightness from the moment before.
Hinata blinked, as if only just processing the statement, then clenched his fists with renewed energy, the fire of challenge gleaming in his eyes. “Then I’ll dodge you!”
Tsukishima let out a faint scoff and crossed his arms, slipping back into his usual unimpressed expression.
