The silence in the gym was heavy, the kind that usually followed a bomb going off.
Kuroo Tetsurou shook his hand, wincing slightly. The impact of the ball against his block hadn't just stung; it felt like he had tried to stop a spinning tire with his bare palm. He looked at the red mark forming on his skin, then up at the red-headed first-year who was currently checking his fingernails as if nothing had happened.
"Well?" Ryuu asked, breaking the silence. "About that hair tie?"
Coach Nekomata, sitting on his folding chair by the sidelines, let out a wheezing laugh that sounded like a rusty gate opening. "Heh. Heh heh. Interesting. Very interesting."
Yaku Morisuke, Nekoma's libero and arguably the scariest person on the team, marched up to the net. He wasn't looking at Ryuu with fear; he was looking at him with the annoyance of a mother whose child just broke a vase.
"You!" Yaku pointed a finger at Ryuu. "You almost broke the railing on the second floor! Do you have any idea how much school property costs?"
Ryuu peered over his sunglasses, looking down at the much shorter libero. "I was aiming for the floor, Shorty-senpai. The railing just got in the way."
"Shorty-senpai?!" Yaku's vein popped. "I will kick your shins in!"
"Now, now, Yaku-san," Kuroo intervened, stepping between them, though his eyes were fixed on Ryuu. The playful smirk was gone from the captain's face, replaced by a sharp, calculating look. "Let's finish the match first. One point doesn't make you a king, Gojou-kun. It just makes you a cannon with no aim."
Ryuu chuckled. He walked over to the bench, grabbed a rubber band from a confused manager, and pulled his messy crimson hair back into a small, spiky ponytail. The action exposed his neck and the sharp line of his jaw. He slid his sunglasses back on.
"A cannon with no aim?" Ryuu repeated, walking back to the court. "That hurts, Captain. I have perfect aim. I just chose violence for the first point."
He turned to Kenma. "Hey, Gamer-boy. Serve's yours."
Kenma looked like he wanted to dissolve into the floorboards. "Don't call me that. And don't order me around."
Despite the complaint, Kenma served. It was a standard serve, nothing special.
Yaku received it perfectly. "Kuroo!"
The ball went to the captain. Kuroo approached for a spike. It was a time-difference attack—a delayed jump designed to throw off blockers. It was Nekoma's specialty: trickery over power.
Ryuu stood at the net. He didn't jump when Kuroo approached. He didn't bite on the feint.
Through the amber tint of his sunglasses, Ryuu's Emperor's Eyes were active. The world slowed down. He saw the tension in Kuroo's calf muscles. He saw the slight shift in the setter's eyes. He saw the trajectory lines overlaying reality like a HUD in a video game.
'He's delaying his jump by 0.4 seconds. Aiming for the seam between me and Yamamoto.'
Ryuu waited. He waited until the exact moment Kuroo committed to the air.
Then, Ryuu exploded upward.
It wasn't a frantic jump. It was precise. It was absolute. Ryuu's hands appeared over the net like a sudden wall of flesh and bone.
Kuroo's eyes widened. 'He waited?!'
The captain tried to adjust, to swipe the ball off Ryuu's fingertips (a "wipe"), but Ryuu's hands shifted mid-air. It was a subtle movement, a kinetic reaction that shouldn't have been possible for a high schooler.
SMACK.
The ball didn't ricochet. It was a kill block. It went straight down, bouncing off Kuroo's side of the court before he even landed.
"Read blocking?" Kuroo muttered, landing on his feet and staring at the ball. "No... that was reaction time. Pure reaction."
Ryuu landed, dusting off his hands. "Too slow, Captain. I could have made a cup of coffee while you were in the air."
Yamamoto, standing behind Ryuu, looked conflicted. On one hand, his teammate was being incredibly rude to the captain. On the other hand... that block was nasty.
"Hey! Red-head!" Yamamoto shouted. "Stop showing off! It's a team sport!"
"I am the team," Ryuu replied, flashing a grin.
The 3-on-3 match didn't last long. It was a massacre.
It wasn't that Ryuu scored every point—he actually let Yamamoto score a few. But his presence on the court was suffocating.
When he was in the back row, he didn't dive for receives. He barely moved. He would take one step, tilt his body, and the ball would impact his arms perfectly, popping up to the setter position with eerie precision. It was like he knew where the ball was going before the server even hit it.
When he was at the net, the opponents felt like they were trying to throw a pebble over a mountain.
Final Score: 25-12.
Ryuu's team won. And Ryuu hadn't even broken a sweat.
"Well," Coach Nekomata said, standing up and clapping his hands slowly. "I think we've seen enough."
The team gathered around the coach. The atmosphere was different now. The playful curiosity was gone, replaced by a mixture of awe and intimidation. Even Lev Haiba, the other first-year giant who had been watching from the sidelines with wide green eyes, looked stunned.
"So," Nekomata smiled, his eyes disappearing into wrinkles. "Gojou-kun. You said you picked up volleyball recently?"
"Yeah," Ryuu lied again, hands in his pockets. "It looked fun."
"Fun..." Nekomata chuckled. "You have the spatial awareness of a veteran pro and the physical specs of a monster. You are an anomaly."
The coach turned to the rest of the team.
"Nekoma has always been a defensive team," Nekomata began, his voice taking on a serious edge. "We connect. We persevere. That is our style. But..." He looked at Ryuu. "We have never had a cannon. We have never had a player who can simply force his way through a wall."
"Until now," Ryuu finished for him.
"Until now," Nekomata agreed. "Gojou Ryuu. You're in. Welcome to Nekoma."
"Yes!" Lev shouted from the side, unable to contain himself. "That was so cool! You jumped like WHOOSH and then BAM! Teach me how to do that!"
Ryuu looked down at Lev. The silver-haired half-Russian was taller than most, but still clumsy looking.
"Who's the stick insect?" Ryuu asked.
"I'm Lev! Lev Haiba! I'm going to be the Ace of Nekoma!" Lev proclaimed proudly, puffing out his chest.
Ryuu laughed. It was a loud, genuine laugh. He patted Lev on the shoulder hard enough to make the boy stumble. "I like you. You have good jokes. But the Ace position?"
Ryuu walked over to Yamamoto, who was glaring at him. Ryuu leaned in, towering over the second-year.
"The Ace is the one who scores the most points, right?" Ryuu asked innocently. "So, until someone scores more than me... I guess I'm the Ace."
"Don't get cocky just because you won a practice match!" Yamamoto barked, though his voice lacked its usual bite. He knew what he had seen. Ryuu was on a different level.
"I'll take number 10," Ryuu decided suddenly.
"Huh?" Kuroo blinked. "Why 10?"
"Because 1 is taken by the captain, and 4 is taken by the Mohawk," Ryuu pointed at Yamamoto. "And 10 is usually the number of the 'Little Giant' or whatever, right? It seems fitting for the main character to take a significant number."
"Main character..." Kenma mumbled, looking at his game console. "He really thinks the world revolves around him."
"It doesn't?" Ryuu asked, tilting his head.
Practice ended an hour later. Ryuu had officially been issued a practice kit and told to get measured for a jersey.
As the team changed in the club room, the dynamic was already shifting. Ryuu didn't try to blend in. He took up the most space on the bench, humming a pop song while changing into his street clothes.
"Hey, Gojou," Kuroo said, pulling his shirt on. "You're good. But don't think individual skill is everything. There are guys out there—Ushijima from Shiratorizawa, Sakusa from Itachiyama—who are monsters in their own right."
Ryuu paused, buttoning his shirt. He lowered his sunglasses, looking Kuroo in the eye.
"Captain," Ryuu said, his voice dropping an octave, losing its playful lilt for a second. "You're misunderstood. I'm not worried about them."
He grinned, the golden eyes flashing.
"They should be worried about me."
He slung his bag over his shoulder. "Also, we have a practice match coming up, right? Golden Week camp? I heard we play against some crows from the boonies."
Kuroo froze. "Karasuno? Yeah. How did you know?"
"Just a hunch," Ryuu winked. "I can't wait to meet them. I heard they have a 'King of the Court' too. I wonder..."
Ryuu walked to the door, sliding it open. He looked back at the stunned room of teenagers.
"...I wonder if a King can fly when his wings are clipped."
With that, he walked out into the cool Tokyo evening, leaving the Nekoma volleyball team staring at the empty doorway.
"He's..." Kai spoke up softly.
"A headache," Kenma finished, aggressively pressing buttons on his PSP. "A massive, loud, arrogant headache."
"But," Kuroo grinned, a dark, ambitious look crossing his face. "He's our headache. And with him... the dumpster battle might finally be interesting."