The ball was in Hinata's hands. He stood at the service line, bouncing the ball once before looking up, his expression burning with new determination. The gym was quiet with focus.
He took a deep breath and tossed the ball slightly in front of him—not too high, just enough for a simple, standing serve. He kept both feet on the ground and swung his arm forward.
The ball cleared the net with decent speed, low and firm.
Ayato stepped forward, knees bent in perfect receiving form. His eyes followed the ball precisely, tracking its rotation. With smooth movement, he shifted to his right and let the ball strike his forearms with a sharp pop, guiding it up perfectly into the air.
"Nice receive!" Yamaguchi called out, his eyes widening at the ease with which Ayato handled the serve.
The ball floated toward him for the set.
As Yamaguchi adjusted his stance and brought his hands into position, Ayato's voice cut through the air.
"Higher."
Yamaguchi blinked. "Huh?"
The word was firm, yet not demanding. It was calm—confident. Trustworthy.
Yamaguchi, although unsure, nodded to himself. He positioned his fingers and wrists to launch the ball higher than usual, hoping Ayato could handle the change.
Across the net, Kageyama's eyes narrowed. His instincts kicked in. He and Tanaka moved almost simultaneously, adjusting their positioning, preparing for a solid double block.
Ayato was already moving.
With quick strides, he built up momentum. His timing was impeccable. Footwork silent. Controlled breathing. His body understood this motion—it was second nature, the rhythm drilled into him through countless years of training.
He planted his foot, extended his legs, and jumped.
And then—he *soared*.
He rose high. Too high for someone just starting indoor volleyball. Higher than before. Higher than anyone expected.
Even Kageyama, used to Hinata's freak jumps, stared with eyes wide. Ayato's form was perfect—shoulders back, arm cocked, eyes locked onto the set.
He floated for a split second at the peak.
Then—
*BOOM!*
His spike came crashing down like thunder. The ball hammered the court just inside the line, exploding off the wooden floor and ricocheting off the back wall with a sharp bang.
For a second, no one moved.
The gym fell silent.
Tanaka and Kageyama remained frozen, arms still raised in block position.
Tsukishima's mouth was slightly open, his eyes fixed on the back wall.
Yamaguchi's hands remained in the air, the motion of his set still lingering.
Even Daichi, observing from the sideline, stood up halfway from the bench.
"…No way…" Tanaka finally muttered.
Kageyama's eyes were glued to Ayato as he landed smoothly, hardly seeming winded. The expression on his face was as unreadable as ever—no smug grin, no dramatic flair. Just composed.
"He jumped… over us," Kageyama murmured.
Ayato turned and gave a small nod toward Kageyama before returning to his position. The way he moved—so fluid, like the court belonged to him.
Hinata, still processing what had just happened, whispered to Tanaka, "Did you see that?! He flew! He flew over them!"
Tanaka nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Ayato. "I thought he was already good… but that wasn't just good."
It was something else entirely.
Kiyoko, watching quietly from the doorway, furrowed her brows. "He wasn't even trying that hard earlier."
Everyone was thinking the same thing. What Ayato had shown until now—hadn't been his best. Not even close.
He had been testing the waters.
Ayato looked up at the net, then shifted his gaze to his teammates. His voice, though soft, echoed in the quiet gym.
"I said I'd transition from beach volleyball… so I'm making sure I'm ready."
Silence hung in the air for a moment longer—until Daichi finally grinned and stood fully upright.
"Well… Karasuno just got a whole lot more interesting."
Kageyama clenched his fist lightly. Not out of jealousy, but anticipation. He could feel it—Ayato was a piece of the puzzle that could change everything. He was strong. Efficient. Smart.
And Kageyama *wanted* to set for him.
Ayato, meanwhile, simply smirked.
This wasn't just another match. This was a proving ground. A second chance at the dream he'd lost.
He walked back to the service line, glancing up at the lights above the court.
In his old world, volleyball had been taken from him too soon.
Here? He had every intention of taking it as far as it could go.