Shinzen High School, Gym 1. Thursday, 7:30 AM.
The training camp was nearing its end, and while most players were already eyeing the exit, Ryuu Gojou was standing at the far end of Court B. He was drenched in sweat, his chest heaving, but his eyes were locked on the opposite baseline.
In his hand, the ball felt like an extension of his own skin.
Coach Nekomata sat on a nearby bench, his usual playful expression replaced by a sharp, analytical gaze. He beckoned Ryuu over.
"Ryuu," the old man said, his voice quiet but carrying weight. "You're hitting a 115km/h serve. In high school, that's a nightmare. But in the V-League? In Italy? In Brazil? That's just a warm-up."
Ryuu wiped his brow, leaning on his knees. "You think I'm holding back, Coach?"
"I think you're hitting with your muscles, not your soul," Nekomata replied, pointing to the rafters. "You have the height of a giant and the flexibility of a cat. Stop trying to 'smash' the ball. I want you to conquer it. Higher toss. More torque in the core. If you want to be a world star, you have to hit a ball that makes the air itself scream."
Ryuu walked back to the baseline. He took a deep breath, slowing his heart rate.
He tossed the ball. High. Higher than usual.
He didn't just run; he exploded. His first two steps were short and rhythmic, the third was a massive, lunging plant that converted all his horizontal speed into vertical lift.
He soared.
At the apex, his back didn't just arch—it coiled like a steel spring. He felt the torque starting from his left heel, traveling through his hips, and snapping into his torso. As his right arm swung forward, he didn't just hit the ball; he drove through it, incorporating that "nasty" wrist snap he'd stolen from Sakusa, but adding his own raw, Brazilian-infused power.
KABOOM.
The sound wasn't a crack; it was a heavy, low-frequency thud that vibrated through the floorboards.
The ball didn't fly; it teleported. It crossed the net and cratered into the back-left corner of the court, the impact making the wood floor groan.
The entire gymnasium went silent.
On Court A, Bokuto stopped mid-swing. Akaashi froze with his hands still shaped for a set. The Karasuno boys, who were mid-drill, turned their heads as one.
"What... what was that?" Hinata whispered, his skin crawling with goosebumps. "It sounded like a cannon."
Kageyama didn't say a word. He was staring at the mark on the floor where the ball had landed. The wood was literally scuffed. 'He's not just getting faster,' Kageyama thought, his grip on his own ball tightening until his knuckles turned white. 'He's getting heavier.'
Ubugawa's libero, known for his elite receiving, stared at Ryuu with a look of pure dread. "I wouldn't even be able to get a hand on that. My arms would snap."
Nekomata watched the ball roll away, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face.
"Good," Nekomata murmured. "That's the sound of a boy who's outgrown his cage."
Ryuu walked back to the ball bin, grabbed another one, and looked at his hands. They were vibrating from the force of the contact.
"Again," Ryuu said, his voice flat and focused.
He repeated the motion. Toss. Arch. Snap. Explosion. Five times in a row, he hit the exact same spot. Each time, the sound of the impact sent a fresh wave of tension through the gym. It was as if Ryuu was marking his territory, telling every other team in the building exactly where the peak of the mountain was.
Kenma watched from the sidelines, leaning against a water crate. "He's becoming a monster," Kenma said quietly. "If he keeps serving like that, I don't even have to worry about our defense. Nobody's going to get the ball over the net."
Kuroo cackled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, but it's our job to make sure he doesn't have to carry the whole world on his shoulders. Even a Red Giant needs a foundation."
...
Shinzen High School, Gym 1. Thursday Afternoon.
The heat in the gym was a physical weight, but Ryuu didn't seem to notice. He was locked in his own world on Court B. Under Coach Nekomata's watchful eye, he was no longer just practicing a serve—he was refining a weapon.
Toss. Explode. Snap.
KABOOM.
The sound of Ryuu's palm meeting the ball was a heavy, low-frequency thud that made the water bottles on the sidelines rattle.
On the neighboring court, the Karasuno "Freak Duo" was in the middle of a meltdown. Hinata had just face-planted for the twelfth time trying to hit Kageyama's new "stopping" toss. He scrambled up, spitting dust, only to see a yellow-and-blue blur streak past the corner of his eye.
The ball Ryuu hit didn't just land; it cratered into the floorboards with a violent velocity that made the gym go momentarily silent.
Hinata stood frozen, his eyes wide as he watched Ryuu walk back to the ball bin without a word, completely indifferent to the chaos around him.
'He's not even looking at us,' Hinata thought, his fingers trembling. 'He's already miles ahead, looking at something else entirely.'
For the first time, Hinata didn't just want to "jump"—he realized that if he kept his eyes closed, he would never even see the shadow of the man standing on the other side of the net. He didn't need anyone to tell him; the sheer sound of that serve was enough of a lesson.
...
Nekomata didn't let Ryuu stay at the service line forever. "Enough individual work. Rotate in. Let's see that pressure in the system."
Nekoma shifted into team drills. Ryuu's serve had set the temperature; now Kenma was using that heat to forge something new. This was the birth of the "Gravity System."
It started with Ryuu's serve. Because the serve was so devastating, the opposing team—a combined group of Shinzen and Ubugawa—could barely manage a "Chance Ball" return.
"Again," Kenma murmured.
As the ball drifted back over the net, Nekoma didn't just scramble. They moved in sync. Ryuu took a massive, thunderous approach for a back-row Pipe attack. He wasn't doing it to be a hero; he was doing it because Nekomata and Kenma had realized that Ryuu's presence was a physical force.
The blockers on the other side bit instantly. Three sets of hands soared to stop the "Red Giant." But Kenma, with a tiny, effortless flick of his wrists, redirected the ball to Yamamoto on the wing.
SLAM. The court was wide open.
"Ryuu is like a magnet," Yamamoto noted, catching his breath. "They're so scared of him that they're leaving me a five-meter gap."
"That's the Gravity," Kenma said, wiping his face. "As long as Ryuu stays dangerous, the rest of you become invisible. It's efficient."
Ryuu didn't talk. He just grabbed his water bottle, his face a mask of focus. He was perfecting the "Lie"—learning exactly how to sell his approach to keep that Gravity strong.
..
Near the sidelines, Nishinoya was drenched in sweat, his forearms a bright, angry red. Yaku was relentless, hitting balls off a platform that forced Nishinoya into awkward, split-second lunges.
"Focus, Noya!" Yaku barked. "You're reacting to the sound! By the time you hear it, it's already past you!"
Nishinoya glanced toward Court B. Ryuu was currently practicing his "Heavy" jump serve. The ball didn't have the clean, sharp whistle of a normal serve; it had a dull, menacing roar.
Nishinoya watched Ryuu's approach. He noticed that when Ryuu's left foot stayed back, the ball almost always went cross-court. When he brought it forward, it was a line-shot missile.
'Yaku-san is right,' Nishinoya realized, his jaw tightening. 'Against a guy like that, reflexes are just a prayer. I have to read him before he even touches the ball.'
He didn't ask Ryuu for advice. He didn't have to. Ryuu's sheer consistency provided all the data Nishinoya needed. He dropped into a deeper crouch, his eyes locked on Ryuu's hips, waiting for the next "Heavy" version to come his way during the scrimmage.
...
While the "Gravity" system was coming together on Court B, Asahi Azumane stood by the equipment shed, clutching a water bottle. His eyes were glued to Ryuu Gojou.
Nekoma was currently in a scrimmage against a combined Fukurodani-Shinzen front row. Ryuu went up for a pipe attack, and a solid three-man wall rose to meet him. Most spikers would have looked for the seam or tried to tip over the reach.
Ryuu didn't.
He swung with a violent, heavy arm-snap, intentionally aiming for the fingertips of the blockers. The ball didn't just touch them; it exploded off their hands with so much force that it flew straight into the rafters, completely unrecoverable.
"Tool!" Kuroo yelled from the sideline, a smirk on his face.
Ryuu landed, casually wiping sweat from his forehead. He didn't look for the open court; he treated the blockers' hands like a backboard to bounce the point off of. It was a textbook Block Out, executed with terrifying intent.
Asahi looked down at his own massive, calloused hands. He had spent his whole career trying to be a "Surgeon"—carefully aiming for the corners, trying to thread the needle through the line or the sharp cross. But watching Ryuu "Tool" the best blockers in the camp, Asahi felt a gears shift in his mind.
'I've been trying to avoid the block,' Asahi thought, his heart thudding against his ribs. 'But with my height and weight... I should be the one breaking their fingers.'
He didn't need Ryuu to say a word. The sheer arrogance of Ryuu's playstyle—inviting the block just to smash it—was the only lesson Asahi needed.
The Karasuno Ace turned back to his own court. He caught Sugawara's eye and gave a sharp, determined nod. "Suga! Give me a high one! I don't care if they're waiting for me!"
Sugawara's eyes widened, but he grinned. "You got it, Ace!"
Asahi took a deep approach. When the block rose, he didn't look for the gap. He looked for the outer edge of the pinky. He swung with every ounce of Blunt Force in his frame, not trying to go around the wall, but trying to tear it down.
KRA-POW!
The ball blasted off the block and soared out of bounds. A perfect Wipe.
Ryuu, resting between rotations on the next court, caught the tail end of the play. He let out a low whistle and flashed a cheeky, knowing smirk toward the Karasuno side.
'Look at that. The big guy finally decided to use his size,' Ryuu thought, spinning a ball on his index finger.
....
By the final morning, the progress wasn't a coaching clinic; it was a desperate adaptation.
It was the final set of the week: Nekoma vs. Karasuno.
Ryuu stood at the service line. The silence in the gym was heavy, every eye following him as he went through his routine.
Toss. Explode. Snap. KABOOM.
The serve was a bullet aimed straight for the seam. But Nishinoya had been studying Ryuu's approach all week. He moved before the hit, getting his platform behind the "Heavy" ball. It slammed into his arms, nearly knocking the breath out of him, but the ball popped up.
"CHANCE BALL!" Hinata screamed.
Hinata took off, his eyes wide and frantic as he tried to track the ball and the blockers at the same time. On the other side of the net, Ryuu went up.
As they both hung in the air, Ryuu had a front-row seat to Hinata's desperate face. He could see the gears turning in the kid's head. He saw Hinata's wrist shift at the last second, aiming right for Ryuu's outer fingers.
'Oh, you're going for the wipe? Smart move, Chibi-chan,' Ryuu thought, a cheeky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Ryuu could have easily snapped his hands inward to stuff the ball, or moved them out of the way to let it go long. Instead, he just hovered there, keeping his hands exactly where they were. He decided to play along, letting the ball clip his pinky just enough to give Hinata the trajectory he wanted.
Ting.
The ball ricocheted off Ryuu's hand and flew out of bounds. Point, Karasuno.
Hinata landed and let out a roar of pure joy, jumping around like he'd just won the lottery. The rest of the Karasuno team swarmed him, celebrating the fact that they'd finally managed to score off the guy who had been a wall all week.
Ryuu landed lightly, shaking out his hand with an amused expression. He caught Kuroo looking at him with a knowing, suspicious grin.
"You're a real softie, aren't you?" Kuroo teased as they walked back to the line.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Captain," Ryuu replied, his eyes dancing with mischief. "I just have slow reflexes today. It's the heat."
"Liar," Kuroo chuckled.
Ryuu looked over at Hinata, who was currently doing a victory lap. 'Enjoy it, shrimp. It's a lot more fun when you actually think you can win.'
The whistle blew, ending the final scrimmage of the week.
"That's it!" Kuroo shouted, his voice echoing in the rafters. "Pack up! The meat is waiting!"
Ryuu wiped a gallon of sweat off his face with his jersey, his shoulder throbbing with a dull, satisfying ache. He watched the Karasuno side, where even Kageyama looked slightly less grumpy than usual.
"BBQ time," Ryuu muttered, his cheeky grin returning as he walked toward his bag. "I wonder if I can convince the Karasuno kids that the green onions are actually 'power-up' food."
"They're not that dumb, Ryuu," Kenma said, walking past him.
"Hinata might be," Ryuu countered, tossing his towel over his shoulder.
"Actually... yeah," Kenma conceded. "He probably is."