Shinzen High School, Outdoor Courtyard.
Friday, 6:30 PM.
The "hell week" was officially over. The sound of squeaking shoes and the sharp whistle of the referee had been replaced by the rhythmic crackle of charcoal and the aggressive, intoxicating sizzle of rendered fat. Smoke billowed over the Shinzen courtyard in thick, savory clouds, carrying the scent of soy-marinated beef, fatty pork belly, and the sweet, charred edges of cabbage.
"MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!"
Tanaka and Nishinoya were currently performing what looked like a ritualistic war dance around their designated grill. Tongs were held high like samurai swords, glinting in the orange light of the fires. "THE GODS OF CARNIVORES HAVE BLESSED THE BRAVE!"
A few feet away, Ryuu stood at a neighboring grill, looking more like a professional teppanyaki chef than a high school middle blocker. He was wearing a simple black tank top that showed the hard-earned definition of his shoulders and back. While the Karasuno duo was frantically stabbing at whatever turned brown, Ryuu was moving with a precision that bordered on obsessive.
"Lev, if you touch that ribeye one more time before the juices have settled, I will personally barzy you into the charcoal," Ryuu warned without even looking up.
Lev flinched, his chopsticks hovering mid-air like a startled heron. "But Ryuu-san! It's been three minutes! It's brown! Brown means done!"
"It's grey, Lev. It's sad and under-seared," Ryuu muttered, expertly flipping a row of kalbi. "You play volleyball like you cook—all limbs and no patience. Let the Maillard reaction do its work. Trust the process."
"HEY HEY HEY!"
A blur of white and grey jersey slammed into the space next to Ryuu. Bokuto Koutarou appeared, vibrating with enough energy to power the entire Saitama prefecture. He was holding a plate that was already piled dangerously high with raw brisket.
"RYUU! Akaashi said I have to wait for the third-years to finish, but I told him I'm a special case! And you're the Champ, so we should be the ones in charge of the premium cuts, right?!"
Ryuu smirked, nudging a perfectly charred, glistening piece of beef toward the cool edge of the grill.
"Bokuto-san, there is no 'Champion's privilege' at a BBQ. There is only the 'Fast and the Hungry.' But... since you're an Owl, I'll let you in on the secret stash."
Bokuto snatched the meat with his chopsticks, his eyes widening as the flavor hit.
"DELICIOUS! AGH! It's like a straight-down spike to my stomach! Ryuu, you're a genius! Why don't you play for Fukurodani? We'd be unstoppable! Meat and volleyball every day!"
"And who would keep you from going into emo-mode?" Ryuu teased, ruffling his own hair.
"Akaashi is the only one with that specific superpower. I'd just start eating your share of the BBQ while you were pouting."
Akaashi appeared behind them, looking like he had aged five years in the last five days.
"Bokuto-san, please don't choke. We have to drive back to Tokyo tomorrow, and I'd prefer not to do it in an ambulance."
"Akaashi! Ryuu said I'm a fast owl!"
"He said you were hungry, Bokuto-san. There's a difference."
Near the vegetable station, Hinata Shouyou was looking skeptically at a pile of grilled negi (long green onions). Kageyama Tobio was standing next to him, staring at a plate of plain white rice like it was a tactical map he needed to solve.
"Hey, Chibi-chan," Ryuu called out, leaning casually on his tongs.
Hinata looked up, his face still flushed from the final scrimmage. "Gojou-san! Did you see that last wipe I did? I saw the fingers! I actually saw them move!"
"I saw. You looked like you actually knew what you were doing for once," Ryuu teased, though there was a hint of genuine approval in his voice. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"By the way... you want to jump even higher tomorrow?"
Hinata's eyes tripled in size. He dropped his chopsticks.
"YES! HOW?! Is there a secret training? A special stretch?!"
Ryuu pointed a pair of tongs toward the pile of grilled onions.
"Pro secret. In the Brazilian leagues, we call those 'Spring Fibers.' They have a specific enzyme that triggers explosive calf muscle contraction. Why do you think I'm 190cm? I grew up eating these by the crate."
Hinata gasped, leaning in so close he nearly fell over the table.
"ENZYMES?! Like... like bio-fuel?!"
Kageyama narrowed his eyes, suspicious but clearly interested. "I've read a lot of sports science journals, Gojou. I've never heard of 'Spring Fibers' in onions."
"That's because it's a pro secret, King," Ryuu said, his face a mask of absolute, stone-cold seriousness. "The V-League keeps it quiet so the rest of the world doesn't catch up. Ten of those in one go, and you'll feel the lift in your heels by sunrise."
Hinata didn't wait. He immediately began shoveling the charred onions onto his plate. "I'LL EAT THIRTY! I'LL JUMP OVER THE MOON!"
Kenma, who was sitting on a nearby bench and picking at a small piece of chicken, looked up from his handheld console. "Ryuu... stop. That's a total lie. You're 190 because your dad is a giant and your mom is an athlete."
"Shhh," Ryuu hissed, grinning as Hinata started chewing heroically. "Let him eat his vegetables, Kenma. It's for his own good. He needs the vitamins anyway."
"You're a terrible person," Kenma muttered, though a tiny smile tugged at his lips.
Over by the drink station, Shimizu Kiyoko and Yachi Hitoka were trying to organize the chaos of a hundred thirsty athletes. Tanaka and Nishinoya were already vibrating in the periphery, preparing to launch into their "Sacrifice Routine" with plates of burnt, carbonized meat they had "cooked" specifically for their goddess.
Ryuu walked up, holding a clean, ceramic plate. On it were three perfectly rested, medium-rare slices of premium beef and a small portion of grilled peppers. He ignored the two Karasuno "guardians" entirely, stepping past them like they were part of the furniture.
"Shimizu-san," Ryuu said, his voice dropping the cheeky edge. "You've been on your feet since the first whistle this morning. Take these. If you wait for the 'Guardians' to cook for you, you'll end up with a stomach ache or a plate of charcoal."
He handed her the plate and then looked at Yachi, who was shaking like a leaf. "And for you, Yachi-san. Eat up. You've been running more miles than the liberos today. You look like a stiff breeze would knock you into the next prefecture." He dropped a tender piece of chicken onto her plate.
"T-T-T-Thank you very much! I am unworthy of this protein!" Yachi squeaked, bowing so fast she nearly headbutted the table.
Shimizu took the plate, her eyes meeting Ryuu's. She didn't look flustered; she looked appreciative. "Thank you, Gojou-kun. You're surprisingly observant when you aren't trying to score aces."
"It's a hobby," Ryuu said with a wink. He turned back to Tanaka and Nishinoya, who were currently turning a deep shade of purple. "Hey, you two. If you spent as much time practicing your underhand receives as you do staring at your manager, maybe I wouldn't have been able to target you so easily today. Just a thought."
"YOU... YOU ARROGANT RED GIANT!" Tanaka roared, but Ryuu was already walking away, chuckling to himself.
....
As the night grew darker and the fires died down to glowing orange embers, the atmosphere shifted. The frantic shouting faded into the low hum of tired, satisfied conversations.
Ryuu sat on a low stone wall at the edge of the courtyard, watching the smoke drift up toward the stars. Kuroo walked over, a silhouette against the firelight, holding a folded magazine he'd swiped from the coaches' table.
"Hey, Ryuu. You might want to check page twelve," Kuroo said, tossing the magazine onto Ryuu's lap. "The editors at Volleyball Monthly are making people's lives very difficult this month."
Bokuto, sensing a change in the air, teleported to Ryuu's side. "What is it?! Is it a secret technique?! A hidden player?!"
He shoved his face into the magazine. Then, he froze.
"Wait... wait, wait, wait!" Bokuto's eyes scanned the page. "If Ryuu is #1... then who is #2? They always said Sakusa was the best because he had the Inter-High trophy!"
Ryuu leaned over Bokuto's shoulder, looking at the bold print. A cheeky, sharp grin spread across his face. "Look at the fine print, Bokuto-san. Sakusa was the king because he was the most consistent. But then I came along and hit a shot he couldn't even touch. The press loves a new narrative."
Kuroo leaned back against a tree, cackling. "The magazine guys are having a mid-life crisis. They moved Ushijima to #2 because he's still the heaviest hitter in the nation, but they bumped Sakusa to #3 because, well... he lost to a first-year in the most dramatic fashion possible."
Ryuu looked at the printed rankings:
1. Ryuu Gojou (Nekoma) – The New King
2. Wakatoshi Ushijima (Shiratorizawa)
3. Kiyoomi Sakusa (Itachiyama)
4. Wakatsu Kiryuu (Mujinazaka)
5. Ojiro Aran (Inarizaki)
"Man, Sakusa is going to be so salty," Ryuu chuckled. "He probably has to sanitize the magazine before he even reads it. I bet he's practicing right now, just to spite the editors."
Bokuto's hair suddenly stood straight up, his eyes bugging out as he realized something. "WAIT! If those are the Top 5... then where am I?! I'm an Ace! I'm the Top 5!"
Ryuu patted Bokuto's shoulder with mock, exaggerated pity. "Sorry, Koutarou. You're the 'Highly Anticipated #6.' You're the bouncer standing outside the club. You have to beat one of us to get your VIP pass back."
"NOOOOOO!" Bokuto wailed, collapsing into his "Emo Mode" on the grass. "I'M A SIX! I'M JUST A SINGLE DIGIT ABOVE MEDIOCRE! AKAASHI, DON'T LOOK AT ME! I'M A DISGRACE!"
"Don't be dramatic," Ryuu teased, giving Bokuto's shoe a playful kick. "Being #6 just means you're the most dangerous guy in the building. Nobody expects the #6 to win—that's your biggest advantage. You're the Challenger now. It sounds way cooler than being just another name on a list."
Bokuto looked up, his eyes slowly turning back into golden, shimmering orbs. "The... Challenger?"
"Yeah," Ryuu winked. "The guy who hunts the King. That's a much better story, isn't it?"
Bokuto snapped back to his feet, his energy returning in a violent wave. "THE CHALLENGER! I like that! I'm going to hunt you down, Ryuu! I'm going to take that #1 sticker and stick it right on my forehead at the Spring High!"
"I'd like to see you try," Ryuu laughed, snatching the last piece of chicken from Bokuto's plate. "But for now, give me your fuel. A #1 needs his protein to stay on the throne."
"HEY! GET YOUR OWN, YOU THIEVING KING!"
Ryuu looked over at the Karasuno table. Hinata was currently trying to show Kageyama how much higher he could "theoretically" jump now that he had eaten the onions, while Tsukishima watched them with a look of pure, concentrated disdain.
"The throne is occupied," Ryuu whispered, looking up at the Saitama sky. "Winning once was fun. But winning while everyone is trying to tear you down? While the Owl and the Crows are sharpening their claws?"
He felt a thrill run down his spine—a hunger that meat couldn't satisfy.
"That's the real game."