The Karasuno gym was alive with the squeak of sneakers and the sharp thump of volleyballs slamming against the hardwood. Shafts of morning sunlight streamed through the high windows, cutting across drifting dust motes like the air itself was watching.
Aya sat on the bench, cross-legged, clipboard in her lap. She wasn't taking notes so much as scribbling little arrows and doodles, the pen twirling lazily between her fingers. Her eyes tracked the court with calm curiosity — in particular, the chaotic orbit of Hinata Shōyō and Kageyama Tobio.
"I'm telling you, this time, Kageyama — super quick, no hesitation!" Hinata was practically vibrating in place, fists clenched in determination.
"If you're even half a second late—" Kageyama started.
"I won't be!" Hinata interrupted, already bouncing on his toes like a spring wound too tight.
Leaning against the far wall, Akira tipped back a sports drink. His posture was pure indifference — one shoulder against the wall, gaze half-lidded — but his eyes tracked every micro-adjustment in Kageyama's grip, every twitch in Hinata's feet.
"You two," Akira called, voice even, "are thinking too hard about the wrong thing."
Hinata froze mid-bounce. "Huh?"
Alright, listen carefully," Akira said, voice smooth but carrying a weight that made even Kageyama straighten. "Normal volleyball — the setter decides. They choose where and when. But the super quick? It flips that. The spiker dictates. The setter has to read him in real time and put the ball exactly where his hands will be — even if he's already in the air."
Kageyama's brows drew together. "But… how—"
"Watch."
The moment the word left Akira's mouth, Hinata exploded forward. He wasn't looking at the ball, wasn't waiting for a cue — he was already in mid-air before Akira's hands even moved.
In one fluid motion, Akira's fingers cradled and released the set, guiding it into the perfect arc — not to where Hinata was, but where Hinata's hands would be a fraction of a second later.
It was so fast that if you blinked, you missed it. One instant Hinata was just a blur of orange hair in the sunlight — the next, the ball was smashing against the court with a crack that echoed off the rafters.
Aya actually jolted. "I… didn't even see the contact."
"That's the point," Akira said, a faint smirk playing at his lips. "It's not flashy because of power. It's flashy because no one has time to react. You don't give the blockers a chance to even exist."
Kageyama's jaw was tight, his mind visibly racing. Akira stepped closer, his tone dropping into something almost instructional, almost conspiratorial.
"Remember — in this style, you're not leading them. You're chasing them. The spiker's already gone. Your set is just catching up. You'll know it's right when the spike feels inevitable — like gravity."
Hinata landed, grinning so wide it looked like it hurt. "Let's do it again!"
Akira glanced at Kageyama. "Your turn. Blink, and he's already airborne. So don't blink."
Kageyama's eyes narrowed, memorizing the motion.
"And Hinata," Akira added, "you trust him. No hesitation. If he sets, you go."
Hinata nodded instantly. "Got it!"
For a moment, Akira heard another voice echo in his head — younger, sharper, teasing.
Years Ago – Oikawa Household
The living room was too small for volleyball, but that had never stopped them. Toru was taller, faster, every motion smooth with confidence. Akira, shorter then, darted like quicksilver.
"Set!" Toru barked. Without looking, Akira popped the ball up, perfect height. Toru slammed it off the wall, and it rebounded straight into Akira's waiting hands.
They kept the loop going, over and over, their movements synchronized like a single mind.
"You know why you're a good setter?" Toru asked later, handing over a sports drink.
"Because I make you look better than you are," Akira smirked.
Toru laughed, shaking his head. "No. It's because you know where I'll be before I do."
Now – Karasuno Gym
Kageyama's next toss wasn't perfect, but it was close enough. Hinata soared, no pause this time, and the spike landed clean.
Akira smirked. "See? Road's a little bumpy, but the car made it."
Aya scribbled something on her clipboard. "This is going to be fun to watch."
Akira stepped back, letting the two first-years keep running drills. He'd laid the brick. The road would come.
Elsewhere – Aoba Johsai Gym
Toru Oikawa winced as he landed from a jump serve, his ankle twinging in warning. He masked it with a smile, catching the ball and spinning it in his hands.
Across the court, Iwaizumi's voice broke through. "You're pushing too hard. Don't want you limping into the Karasuno match."
Toru waved it off. "Just keeping sharp." But his mind wasn't entirely on the serve.
He'd heard from a contact — Karasuno's new first-year setter wasn't just talented. He was his little brother. And apparently, Akira had already been giving Karasuno's rookies pointers.
That thought pulled at an old memory — the loop in their cramped living room, the unspoken trust in every set. Back then, Akira's game was all about connection. Seeing him pass that on to someone else… it was strange.
Toru bounced the ball once, feeling the sting in his ankle. If he's teaching them our rhythm… this match is going to be different.
And somewhere deep down, a competitive thrill sparked. He wanted to see it.
Back in Karasuno's gym, Hinata and Kageyama were panting, grinning, feeding off each other's energy. Akira watched them like a craftsman examining his tools, already mapping how they could fit into the bigger picture.
The match against Aoba Johsai was coming fast. And on both sides of the net, Oikawa brothers were quietly preparing to test each other — not with words, but with the language of the game they'd both grown up speaking.