The whistle had blown long ago, but the noise in the stadium refused to die down. The scoreboard froze the reality in red digital numbers: Nekoma 2 - 1 Itachiyama.
On the court, the scene was a contrast of chaos and stillness.
Nekoma players were collapsing. Yamamoto lay flat on his back. Kenma was sitting on the bench, looking like a ghost that had been exorcised. Kuroo and Yaku were hugging, screaming something unintelligible.
But Ryuu Gojou sat on the floor, legs sprawled out, staring at his hands. They were red, swollen, and trembling.
'So this is what it takes to beat the best,' Ryuu thought, a dry smile touching his lips. 'It's not stylish. It's not cool. It's just... painful.'
On the other side of the net, the Kings of Tokyo were processing the impossible.
Komori Motoya, the Number 1 Libero, stood with his hands on his hips. He wasn't crying, but he looked shell-shocked. He kept looking at the spot on the floor where Ryuu's final block-out had landed.
"I couldn't dig it," Komori whispered, his voice sounding hollow. "I saw it. I reacted. But it was too fast."
Iizuna Tsukasa, the captain, walked over and patted Komori's shoulder. Iizuna's face was grim. He was the Junior Olympic Best Setter, and he had just lost a tactical war to a team that barely had an offense a month ago.
"We played well," Iizuna said, though he didn't sound convinced. "They just... broke the game logic."
And then, there was Sakusa Kiyoomi.
The Ace stood alone near the service line. He hadn't moved since the ball hit the ceiling. He was staring at the net. Specifically, he was staring at Ryuu.
Sakusa didn't look sad. He looked offended.
He pulled his jersey collar up over his nose, shielding himself from the dusty air of defeat. His eyes were dark, swirling with a mix of disgust and begrudging respect.
'He suffocated me,' Sakusa thought, his fists clenching at his sides. 'He didn't just block me. He invaded my space. He made the court feel small.'
Sakusa hated small spaces. He hated dirt. He hated inefficiency.
And Ryuu Gojou was the embodiment of all three.
____________
"Line up!"
The teams gathered at the net. The energy was weird. Usually, the losers cried. Itachiyama didn't cry. They just radiated a cold, terrifying aura of "This isn't over."
Ryuu stood opposite Sakusa.
Ryuu was taller, but he was slouching from exhaustion. Sakusa stood ramrod straight, trying not to touch anyone.
They shook hands.
Sakusa's grip was brief, barely a touch.
"You," Sakusa said. His voice was muffled by his jersey.
Ryuu raised an eyebrow. "Me?"
"Your form is garbage," Sakusa stated flatly. "Your serves are erratic. You sweat too much."
Ryuu blinked. Then, he let out a short, tired laugh.
"And I won," Ryuu countered.
Sakusa's eyes narrowed.
"For now," Sakusa said. "But Nationals is a different environment. If you don't clean up your mess, Inarizaki or Shiratorizawa will destroy you before we get a rematch."
"Inarizaki? Shiratorizawa?" Ryuu smirked. "More names for the hit list. Thanks for the intel, Weasel."
Sakusa pulled his hand away instantly, rubbed it on his shorts, and walked away without looking back.
As he walked past Komori, the libero looked at Ryuu.
"Gojou-kun," Komori said, a pained smile on his face. "That last spike... the wrist snap? Did you learn that from Bokuto?"
"Maybe," Ryuu shrugged. "I'm a quick learner."
"Scary," Komori shook his head. "See you at Nationals. Don't lose in the Finals."
_______
Nekoma gathered at the bench. Coach Nekomata looked ten years younger.
"We did it," Nekomata beamed. "By reaching the Finals, we have guaranteed a spot at the Interhigh Nationals. We are going to the main stage."
"YEAAAAAH!" Yamamoto screamed, throwing his water bottle (and immediately apologizing to Yaku).
"But," Nekomata raised a finger. "We are not done. We have one match left. The Finals."
"Who is it?" Ryuu asked, chugging a sports drink. "Since Itachiyama was the Semifinals, I assumed they were the boss. Who's left?"
Usually, Itachiyama was the final hurdle. The fact that they met in the semis meant the bracket was lopsided.
"The winner of the other block," Kuroo said, pointing to the other court across the massive gymnasium.
Ryuu looked.
On Court B, a match had just ended. The winning team was celebrating loudly. Very loudly.
One player, in particular, was running laps around the court with his arms spread like wings, screaming at the top of his lungs.
"HEY! HEY! HEY!"
Ryuu froze. A smile—a genuine, amused smile—crept onto his face.
"Of course," Ryuu muttered. "The Teacher."
Fukurodani Academy.
Led by one of the Top 5 Aces in the country, the man who taught Ryuu the very wrist snap he just used to kill Itachiyama.
Bokuto Koutarou.
__________
Ryuu walked toward the locker rooms. The Finals would be held later that afternoon (after a rest period).
As he walked through the hallway, he heard heavy footsteps thundering toward him.
"DRAGON-KUN!"
Ryuu didn't even have time to turn around before a heavy arm slammed around his shoulders.
Bokuto was grinning so hard his eyes were squinted shut. Beside him, Akaashi Keiji looked exhausted, holding Bokuto's water bottle.
"YOU BEAT SAKUSA!" Bokuto yelled, shaking Ryuu. "I SAW IT! I SAW THE LAST POINT! YOU DID THE SNAP! FWOOSH! AND THEN BAM!"
"I did," Ryuu pried Bokuto's arm off, adjusting his collar. "Your tutorial was useful, Owl."
"Useful?!" Bokuto puffed his chest out. "It was legendary! I taught you everything you know!"
"You taught me one thing," Ryuu corrected. "I figured out the rest."
Bokuto leaned in close, his golden eyes burning with excitement.
"You know what this means, right?" Bokuto asked.
"What?"
"The Finals!" Bokuto pointed at Ryuu, then at himself. "Teacher vs. Student! The Disciple trying to surpass the Master! It's the ultimate anime trope!"
Ryuu smirked. "Surpass? I plan to retire you, Bokuto-san."
"HAHAHA!" Bokuto laughed, slapping his thigh. "You can try! But Sakusa is a germaphobe. He hates mess. Me?"
Bokuto's grin shifted. It wasn't the happy-go-lucky smile anymore. It was the smile of a predator who loved the hunt.
"I love a mess," Bokuto said. "And today... I'm feeling Great."
Akaashi stepped forward quietly.
"Gojou-san," Akaashi said, his voice calm. "Be careful. When Bokuto-san is in 'Great' condition... he is not the same person you played against in camp."
Ryuu looked at Bokuto. The aura was different. It wasn't just energy. It was confidence.
Ryuu felt a shiver of anticipation.
Itachiyama was a wall of perfection.
Fukurodani was a hurricane of emotion.
"Good," Ryuu cracked his knuckles. "I was getting bored of calculating probabilities. Let's have a slugfest."
Daishou Suguru watched the interaction from the railing. He had stayed to watch Itachiyama lose, hoping to see the giant fall. Instead, he saw the giant evolve.
"Fukurodani vs. Nekoma in the finals," his teammate muttered. "Who do you think wins, Daishou-san?"
Daishou rested his chin on his hand.
"Itachiyama lost because they played passive," Daishou analyzed. "They let the Dragon get comfortable. But Fukurodani..."
He looked at Bokuto, who was currently trying to high-five a vending machine.
"Bokuto is an idiot," Daishou sneered. "But he's an idiot with a cannon. Nekoma's defense held up against Sakusa's spin. But can they hold up against Bokuto's raw power and impossible angles?"
Daishou grinned.
"And Ryuu... he's exhausted. He carried that entire third set. If Bokuto drags this out... the Monster might run out of fuel."
______________
Ryuu sat on the bench, eating a banana. His legs were twitching involuntarily.
"You okay?" Kenma asked, sitting next to him with his Switch.
"Fine," Ryuu lied. "Just recharging my mana."
"We have two hours," Kenma said. "Sleep."
Ryuu leaned his head back against the locker.
He closed his eyes. He saw Sakusa's face. He saw Komori's dig. He saw Bokuto's grin.
"Hey, Kenma."
"Hm?"
"Volleyball," Ryuu whispered, a smile tugging at his lips as sleep took him. "It's actually kind of fun."
Kenma looked at the sleeping giant. He looked at the bruised hands resting on Ryuu's lap.
"Yeah," Kenma whispered back, going back to his game. "It is."