The Aoba Johsai Gymnasium echoed with the sounds of interaining, even as evening approached.
"It's time to pack up! The cafeteria's about to close!"
Kaname Wenda, a member of the support team, called out from the entrance.
His words were like a whistle signalling the end of a match—almost instantly, the sounds of setting and passing came to an abrupt halt.
"What? It's this te already?"
"Crap, we o hurry! Just hearing that made me realize how hungry I am…"
The remaining pyers in the gym were those who had stayed back for individual practice after team drills had cluded.
It was, after all, the first day of the training camp.
Everyone was brimming with energy, and most of them had decided to make the most of it.
The senior pyers took charge anizing the scattered equipment—gathering volleyballs, marker poles, posts, and other tools. They ensured every volleyball was fully infted and properly stored.
Meanwhile, the undercssmeasked with ing the gym floor—first sweeping, then mopping.
"Taichi! Stop sg off on the side and move faster!"
"Kunimi, you too!"
Kunimi Akira shot a resentful g Taichi Kaedehara. He had been quietly sneaking some downtime on his own, but then Taichi had to join him, immediately making them an obvious target.
During practice, this guy was all energy and spirit, leaping for spikes with incredible force. But now that training was over, he suddenly defted like a spent balloo came to chores.
Taichi scratched his head, equally frustrated. "Practice mode's over, man. It's like I've run out of battery. It's not like we train all day like this bae. I could've at least saved some energy to make it home."
Nearby, Tōru Oikawa was carrying an armful of volleyballs toward the ste room. Hearing Iwaizumi Hajime scolding Taichi, he couldn't help but chuckle.
Hmph, this kid. He doesn't listen to me, but when Iwaizumi speaks, he falls in line.
Wait a sed. It's not just him. Mad Dog- is also like this, and even the Freak obeys Iwa-. Why does everyone only listen to Iwaizumi?
Lost in thought, Oikawa turned his head to stare at Iwaizumi, only to have one of the volleyballs slip from his grasp.
"...Ah, crap!"
The ball rolled directly into Iwaizumi's path.
"Whoa—!" Iwaizumi stepped on the rogue ball, losing his band falling face-first onto the floor.
Armed, Oikawa immediately dropped the rest of the balls and crouched beside the now-motionless Iwaizumi.
"Hey, you okay? Iwa-, did you hit your hat looked really painful…"
Hearing this, Iwaizumi's fiwitched slightly before he growled through gritted teeth:
"You….IDIOT….OIKAWA….YOU….ABSOLUTE….MORON!!"
Iwaizumi staggered to his feet. His nose wasn't bleeding, but the tip was red and swollen.
Oikawa, while genuinely remorseful, couldn't help but stifle a ugh at the sight of Iwaizumi's face.
"I—I'm sorry! I really didn't mean to….Pfft…"
"Go to hell!!"
With a swift, perfectly executed low spin kick, Iwaizumi nded a hit to Oikawa's thigh.
"AAAAHHH!!"
Across the gym, Matsukawa Issei and Hanamaki Takahiro exged gnces. Unbothered by the se, they started rallying the remaining team members.
"Alright, everyone! Finish pag up. Let's head to the cafeteria before we miss dinner."
------
"Taichi, is that all you're eating?" Kindaichi Yutaro asked as he took a seat beside Taichi Kaedehara, bang a tray piled high with food.
Taichi gnced down at his own pte, which held at least twice the portion of an average adult's meal. He didn't think it was "a little," but when he saw the literal mountain of ri Kindaichi's tray, he finally uood why the question was asked.
Kyōtaarō grumbled between bites of his food. "Any cafeteria without fried chi isn't a good cafeteria."
Seriously, how much does this guy love fried chi? Taichi wondered, eyeing Kyōtani's golden hair. Could it be that all the fried chi he eats somehow turned his hair golden?
"Huh?" Kyōtani suddenly noticed Taichi staring at him and immediately gred back, his expression ferocious as always.
Taichi smiled awkwardly but said nothing.
------
The team returo the Aoba Johsai dorms after dinner. Once everyone had unpacked and tidied up their rooms, the day was nearly over.
By the time they finished eating, sh, and winding down, it was already 9 p.m. Some pyers, exhausted from the day's rigorous training, were already sn. Others, however, found it hard to sleep in the unfamiliar enviro.
"Yahaba, pass me that volleyball magazine," Hanamaki Takahiro called out zily.
"Huh? Hanamaki-senpai, that's the February issue," Yahaba replied, handing it over.
"I'm not gonna read it. I to kill a mosquito."
"What?! There's a mosquito? Ugh, that's so annoying."
"You're kidding me. I get bitten so easily…" Matsukawa Issei groaned, joining the versation.
"Are you blood type O?" someone asked.
"Why would that matter?"
"I think I read somewhere that mosquitos prefer O-type blood…"
"he brief dialogue came to an abrupt pause.
"…Man, I'm so sleepy," someotered.
"Then just sleep," another replied.
"Not sure I'll even wake up on time tomorrow…"
After a full day of exhausting volleyball practice, both their bodies and minds were drained, leaving their versations fragmented and nonsensical.
From tomorrow, training would start earlier at 7 a.m., kig off with an hour-long run. After breakfast, they'd stretd loosen up before diving into relentless passing and spiking drills at 8 a.m.
Afternoons would feature simplified scrimmages—3-on-3 and 6-on-6 matches.
Including breaks for meals a, the team would spend roughly eight hours of the day in training.
Still, pyers like Oikawa Toru, Iwaizumi Hajime, Matsukawa Issei, and Kindaichi Yutaro—physical powerhouses—would often squeeze in additional individual practice during breaks or stay behind for ara hour after team drills ended.
But even their dedication paled in parison to that of the team's relentless little moaichi Kaedehara.
The kid hardly ever seemed to need a break, stantly boung a volleyball during downtime. Even the coach occasionally gnervously in Taichi's dire, unsure if his boundless energy was normal or ing.
Lying silently on his bed, Taichi listeo the disjointed versations around him, finding it hard to fall asleep. After some thought, he decided not to waste any more time tossing and turning.
Anything, even stargazing, would be better than this.
As he wahrough the quiet dormitory hallway, he noticed a faint glow emanating from a half-open door at the far end.
No way, he thought. This isn't some creepy horror story, right?
Despite his doubts, Taichi found his feet unsciously moving toward the light. The hallway felt unusually long and silent, amplifying his hesitatioook a deep breath, quied his pace, and shoved the door open.
"AHHHHH!"
ed in a b, Oikawa Toru let out a startled scream, clutg a remote trol in his hand.
"AHHHHH!" Taichi screamed back, equally startled by Oikawa's outburst.
"Shut up and go to sleep already!" a voice roared from somewhere down the hall—it was unmistakably Iwaizumi Hajime.
Ihe room, however, Taichi was met with an uedly mundane se.
Instead of some eerie or mysterious sight, Oikawa was seated cross-legged on the floor, watg recs of their ret practice matches on a small TV. A few volleyball strategy books y scattered nearby, suggesting he had been deeply focused on something before Taichi barged in.
Oikawa gnced up at Taichi and smiled. "I'm reviewing some tactics from today's practice. I think there's still room for improvement."
Taichi observed Oikawa quietly, sensing something unfamiliar about him at that moment. Then, it hit him—a realization.
Though Oikawa could be arrogant and insufferable, his dedication and passion for volleyball were sed to none!
"We'll make it to Nationals," Taichi decred firmly, staring straight at Oikawa.
The words weren't just meant for his captain—they were a remio himself as well.
Oikawa's smile widened. "Of course. I believe in you, ace!"
_________
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