Karasuno's gym was quiet the next morning, lit only by a few shafts of sunlight spilling in through the high windows. The air was still, but it wouldn't stay that way for long.
Rintarou Shimizu stood alone at center court, wearing a black Karasuno tracksuit custom-fitted to his tall, athletic frame. His clipboard was tucked under one arm, a whistle around his neck, and a stopwatch in hand. He was early—intentionally.
He wanted to see who showed up first.
At exactly 6:03 AM, the gym doors creaked open. Daichi Sawamura stepped inside, towel over his shoulder, eyes widening as they met Rintarou's.
"Coach Shimizu," Daichi said, bowing slightly. "You're early."
"You're earlier," Rintarou replied. "Good."
Daichi smiled, a little sheepishly. "My grandpa always said hard work starts before the sun comes up."
"He sounds wise," Rintarou said. "You're the captain now, aren't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then start acting like one. You're in charge of opening drills."
Daichi straightened his posture and gave a sharp nod. "Yes, sir!"
Rintarou tossed him a clipboard with the warm-up routine he'd personally designed. "It's modified for your current level, but you'll lead. I'll supervise."
As Daichi read through it, more students began to trickle in. Ryunosuke Tanaka, loud as ever. Sugawara Koushi, smiling and polite. Asahi Azumane, a quiet tower of muscle. Then a few first-years Rintarou hadn't yet learned the names of.
By 6:25, they were all in place. Most were stretching awkwardly, stealing glances at their new coach, who hadn't spoken a word to the group yet.
Rintarou finally stepped forward, his voice calm but clear.
"From now on, training starts at 6:30 sharp. If you're not here early, you're late. If you're late, you run."
He paused, making eye contact with each of them. "I don't expect perfection. I expect growth. And for growth, you need three things: discipline, knowledge, and hunger."
He looked at Tanaka, who stood a little too casually. "What's your name?"
"Ryunosuke Tanaka, sir!"
"Tanaka," Rintarou said. "What's the most important skill in volleyball?"
Tanaka blinked. "Uh… spiking?"
"Wrong. It's reception. If you can't receive, you can't play. That's your focus this week. One hundred clean receives per day, minimum."
"Yes, sir!"
"Daichi," Rintarou said. "Same for you. But with game vision drills. You're a captain—you need to see more than just the ball."
"Yes, sir."
"Sugawara—your setting mechanics are clean, but your tempo is too slow. You'll run speed drills."
"Understood."
Rintarou handed each player a clipboard containing their own personalized weekly plan. There were gasps around the gym.
"These... these are detailed," Sugawara murmured.
Tanaka flipped his over. "You even listed what I eat?!"
"I did," Rintarou said. "You're teenagers, not machines. If you eat like junk, you'll play like junk. So yes—nutrition is part of the program."
He walked to the center again. "You don't have to like it. You just have to trust that it works."
As the team nodded, half in awe, half in fear, the gym doors opened once more.
Rintarou turned.
There, slowly stepping in with his cane, was Ikkei Ukai.
The old man gave the boys a lazy wave and sat on the bench near the wall.
"I'm just observing," he said. "Don't mind me."
"Sensei," Rintarou said with respect.
Ikkei raised a brow. "Well? Get on with it, Coach Shimizu."
Rintarou turned back to the team. "Warm-up. Let's begin."
---
The next two hours were relentless.
Footwork drills. Controlled receive circuits. Core and shoulder stabilization. Tempo setting. Even beginner-level mental focus techniques.
Rintarou didn't yell. He didn't praise. He observed, gave sharp feedback, and kept the drills running like a machine.
"Tanaka, your knee bends are too shallow. Fix your posture."
"Daichi, your positioning is off by two steps. Correct now, not later."
"Sugawara, faster. Don't anticipate your own hesitation."
The players were sweating buckets by the end of it, but none complained. Even Tanaka, who normally whined about everything, stayed silent.
Because for the first time… they felt like a real team.
They weren't just doing random drills.
They were training with purpose.
---
Later, as they collapsed against the wall, Rintarou finally sat with them.
"You're not strong yet," he said plainly. "But I've seen teams worse than you win tournaments. It's not about talent—it's about execution."
They nodded silently.
"And just so you know… I'm not here for glory. I'm not here to relive my past."
He looked at Kiyoko, who stood at the gym doors with water bottles in her arms.
"I'm here because someone believed you were worth saving. And now I do, too."
They sat in silence, processing his words.
Until finally, Daichi stood.
"We'll work harder, Coach."
Rintarou stood as well. "Good. Because tomorrow's worse."
Tanaka groaned. Sugawara laughed. Even Asahi cracked a smile.
The energy had changed.
---
After practice, Rintarou walked outside with Ikkei Ukai.
"They've got the fire," the old coach said.
"They need fuel," Rintarou replied.
"You're giving them more than that. You're giving them a chance."
Rintarou didn't respond right away.
Then he looked back at the gym.
"They just don't know they can fly yet."
Ikkei nodded, leaning on his cane.
"Well then," he said. "Teach them."