i listened to prince ali on
repeat while writing this

"AWAH!" THE AWED SOUND faded in the throng of the large gymnasium. Kaito Ishioka stood by the metallic doors, grasping the sleeve of his duffle bag in his hand. He was already dressed in sports attire—a pair of black shorts and a loose grey shirt. "Shit, this is so big!" He turned to him. "Shigeru, now I see why you never want to leave this place!"

Yahaba sighed. "Just follow me."

They walked together inside, and Yahaba noticed how Kaito was unfazed by the curious looks sent his way. His teammates were scrutinising him, no doubt. Wondering what he was doing here and why he was here now. If he were in Kaito's position, Yahaba would have shit his pants, truth be told. The looks on his upperclassmen's faces were anything but kind. And if they were, it was all a facade.

"Should I meet with your coaches?" Kaito asked, tilting his head to the side.

"No. It's fine," Yahaba answered, the sound of shoes squeaking against the floors reaching their ears, as did the sounds of shouts and volleyballs being spiked. "Not if you don't want to. They already know you're here."

"But wouldn't it be impolite if I don't?"

Yahaba shrugged. "They won't take it to heart."

"Let me go meet them, anyway. 'Ka-san would be pissed if she heard I didn't. Ettiquet is very important, Kaito." He mocked his mother's voice, albeit badly. "She'd always say that." Yahaba glanced to the side. His friend truly reminded him of a dog— a golden retriever, maybe? Or perhaps a husky. Yahaba nodded his head. Yeah, a husky sounds right. He glanced at Kaito, hearing his yap about anything and everything, all to fill the silence surrounding them and to calm down his nerves. It was cute, really. But also annoying. Though Yahaba wouldn't dare say that aloud.

Kaito motioned to the wall. "Should I just leave my bag here?"

"Yeah." Yahaba did the same, not wanting to make him feel left out. He shrugged off his duffle bag and dumped it on the ground. "Come," he beckoned. "I'll introduce you."

"How should I act?" Kaito questioned. He pressed a finger to his lips, contemplating whatever scenarios popped up in his head. "Are they mean? No. They wouldn't be mean," he mumbled, answering his own question, "otherwise, you wouldn't be here."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Kaito shrugged. "Well, Shi-san's never liked mean people, regardless of their age."

"I guess you're right," Yahaba mused. "Just act like yourself. There's no need to put on an act." He scanned the area for the adults, spotting them sitting to the side. They looked over. Watched the duo walk up to them. "They don't look like it, but both coaches are observant. They'll see right through you."

"Noted!"

Standing in front of Mizoguchi and Irihata, Yahaba gave a respectful bow. "Coach, this is Ishioka Kaito. He's here to try out."

"Thank you for this opportunity!" He bowed.

Irihata nodded, arms crossed. "It's no problem," he replied, voice gruff. "We're not doing anything different today, so let Yahaba-san guide you through the drills. We'll watch, and if we see anything, we'll let you know." Irihata looked up at the boy with serious eyes. "But be warned, there're only two outcomes that can happen today. You'll either leave this gymnasium as part of our team or not at all."

Kaito nodded. "I understand."

Without another second, the two were dismissed. Kaito trailed beside Yahaba like an excited puppy, ears perked, tail wagging, all of that. They walked over to a group of people— Kaito knew most of them. They were all in the same year group as him. He wasn't very good with names, but faces? He never forgot.

"Ah, Ishioka-san," Watari greeted, familiar with the brunet. Mostly everyone their age knew who he was— if not for his personality, then definitely for his looks. Watari would know. He heard his classmates (both male and female alike) fawn over Kaito many times. "Yahaba told us you'd be coming. If you need help with anything, let us know."

"I will," he beamed. "Thanks."

"We're gonna start off with some stretches," Watari continued, taking charge and gesturing for the group of second-years to spread out. "Just follow our lead, okay?"

"Yup!"

Following Watari's actions, each person stretched their limbs in a way that allowed them to feel more at ease and get into a rhythm they were comfortable with. They extended their arms, spread their legs, twisted their waists, bent down to reach their toes— all sorts of things. Kaito found himself loosening up as a result, and he reminded himself to put more time into stretching.

It took no less than ten minutes to warm up. Kaito joined the second-years for a slight jog around the gymnasium, easily matching their pace. He was mostly by Yahaba's side, but like any other extroverted creature, he chatted with the other players. It wasn't anything important; it was almost trivial. Still, it set a good mood for the group. They had smiles on their faces, energy brimming in their veins.

"Alright, let's do some drills," Yahaba said once they finished. "We'll start with receives."

Getting into position, Yahaba bounced the ball from his lower arms, hands on top of one another. Something akin to surprise hit Yahaba as Kaito crouched, lowering his hips and reaching under the ball. He received it. Clean and swift, passing it back to him.

They did that multiple times. Yahaba was impressed when Kaito received the ball time and time again, no mistakes in his steps. He was confident. Back straight. Shoulders broad. It was impressive, in all honesty.

"You're pretty good at this," Yahaba complimented.

Kaito laughed, light and amiable, as he received the next ball. "What? Did you think I'd walk in here with no experience?"

"Yeah," he confessed. "Pretty much."

Kaito made a wounded sound in the back of his throat. "Your lack of faith in me hurts, Shi-san. Like- breaking my heart hurts."

"Cry me a river, then."

The duo continued with their drills. They moved on to setting, bumping the ball with their hands. Mizoguchi and Irihata watched them. They saw how Kaito seemed all too familiar with the ball, setting it into the air with his fingertips barely grazing the surface. It was light, almost feather-like. Like a gentle caress of the breeze against the leaves.

"He's enjoying himself," Mizoguchi pointed out. There was a small smile on Kaito's face. His head was tilted up with his arms in the air, his chestnut-coloured eyes gleaming with joy every time the ball graced his touch.

"That's good," Irihata said. "He doesn't lack enthusiasm."

Mizoguchi placed his elbows on his knees, his eyes narrow and scrutinising. "But enthusiasm doesn't make up for talent."

"You're right. We'll just have to wait for whatever ace he has in his sleeve."

"How are you sure he has one?"

Irihata almost laughed at his question. He spoke with amusement laced in his tone, "No kid would try out for a sport in the middle of the school year if they weren't confident in their abilities." His smile did not fade as they continued to watch Kaito. Irihata could see the potential in him, as faint as it may be. It wasn't significant enough to catch his full, ungrasped attention, but it was there.

"Huh," Mizoguchi sounded. "I guess you're right."

So they settled on watching. Yahaba and Kaito passed the ball to each other a few more times— they counted fifteen before the younger setter caught the ball in his hands.

He stood to his full height, and Kaito copied his actions.

"Your receives are good. So's your setting," he added. "Let's move on to blocking, alright?"

"Sure thing!"

Yahaba guided him to a court that wasn't occupied. There were players all around them, working and training on bettering themselves. Kaito barely gave them any thought. There was a ball in front of him. A setter, too. He could feel the stares of the coaches, assessing him, analysing him, and it felt like lead scorching his skin. Kaito knew what they saw. His body language, his face, everything about him screamed out the fact that he was something but not something. No matter how hard he tried, he was never that something. His family were. They were all something. But he wasn't. The words echoed in his head, as if to mock him for being unable to be anything but normal, and so he turned his attention to focus on the ball.

Yahaba stood opposite him on the court, a volleyball net separating them. They practised blocking, and Yahaba wasn't surprised when Kaito's form was slightly lacking. He excelled at receiving and setting; it only made sense for him to be less agile in moving his arms to block the ball quickly and correctly.

"Your form isn't good," Yahaba sighed.

Kaito bristled. Like a flame in a forest, panic and confusion flickered across his face, spreading slowly like a wildfire. He stared at his hands; the skin underneath was covered with callouses and bruises. His heart stuttered, hidden behind cages of bones.

"Wh-What should I do to fix it?" He sounded almost out of breath. Yahaba thought it was because his stamina was slowly depleting, but Kaito knew better. He wasn't tired.

Anxiety danced on the edges of his senses. He had spent hours practising. Hours fixing his form and copying everything he saw on textbook pages and internet videos. There was a sort of desperation weighing down his tongue. It put pressure on his jaw, kept his shoulders down, setting him on fire.

"Here." Yahaba walked around the net, coming up to his friend. He kept the ball on the ground beside them, reaching out to move his body. "Keep your elbows out like this and your palms like that." He took a step back, looked at him, then nodded. "Let's try again."

Yahaba returned to his initial position. Kaito readied his stance. The moment the ball was in the air, he jumped, his arms raised in front of him, angled slightly forward. A strong obstruction pushed the ball down and to the right, landing within the bounds. Kaito landed on both feet and rolled his shoulders, his head held high. He looked at Yahaba.

"Was that better?" he asked.

Yahaba nodded. "Much better. Let's do it again."

From the side, an almost pink-haired male turned. His ears picked up on the subtle squeaks of volleyball shoes against the ground and the swift thud following soon after.

He raised his brows, interested.

"Hey," he called from the court he was stationed at. His soulmates were with him; Oikawa and Iwaizumi on one side of the net, and him and Matsukawa on the other. "Do you see the kid over there?" He gestured.

His soulmates followed his line of sight. They watched as Yahaba set another ball over the net, something akin to surprise washing over them as the unfamiliar boy jumped in the air, his feet launching off the ground effortlessly.

Iwaizumi tilted his head. "Who's he?"

"Yahaba-kun brought him, I think," Hanamaki answered. "He's trying out today."

"Oh." Oikawa blinked. "We didn't know that."

"Yeah. It only happened yesterday," Matsukawa added. "I heard about it from Kindaichi in the changing rooms."

They watched as he blocked again, his arms extended. He wore a smile on his face as he landed, perking up from whatever words Yahaba spoke. Compliments, probably— which surprised the four third-years because Yahaba rarely gave out compliments.

"His jumps are high," Matsukawa mentioned thoughtfully, analysing the kid. "Though, he's not using his legs properly. Pretty sure he has the potential to jump higher."

Oikawa hummed. "Yeah."

The three glanced at him. He was staring at Kaito intensely. His brown eyes were lidded, obscuring everything else in his field of vision. The intensity had them all intrigued (and a little bit scared, to be honest). Oikawa only looked like that when he was serious; his attention completely focused on one thing and one thing only. Today, it just so happened to be the player Yahaba brought in.

"Alright. We'll have to do more work on your blocks, but they're decent enough. Wanna move onto spikes?" Yahaba questioned.

Kaito huffed a breath, "Yeah. Just- give me a second." His hands were on his knees, chest heaving with exertion. Oikawa saw how his fists were clenched, knuckles bleached white, and he recognised the distaste for failure seeping into his body language. A reflection of himself popped into Oikawa's mind.

He arched his brows.

Except, there was something else, Oikawa noticed. Something that differentiated the two of them. Whereas he'd fake a smile and move on, the unfamiliar teenager donned a genuine smile. Like he knew he was going to do better, rather than he knew he could do better. There was a world of difference between those two trains of thought.

Kaito clapped his hands. He beamed, his lips spread into a blinding smile. "Alright! Let's move on." Yahaba rounded the net. Stood beside him. He raised his hands in the air.

Yahaba set the ball. Kaito spiked.

Oikawa's eyes widened.

Between the two seconds it took for Kaito to soar into the air, his hand raised, elbows locked behind him, curving to connect the ball to his hand— Oikawa was blown away. The oxygen in his lungs swiftly vanished. 

His legs moved without warning.

"Oi, Shittykawa. Where are you going?"

Iwaizumi's words didn't process in his head. He was walking towards Kaito and Yahaba without a single thought in his head except— how? How did he do that? I want to know. No, I need to know. I need to. "Yahaba-chan," he called, and the sound of his voice had both boys turning to look at him. Oikawa plastered on his kind facade, smiling with too much sugar coating his innate desire for more. "Switch with me for a second, yeah?"

Yahaba knew. That wasn't a request.

"Sure, I guess." He handed the ball to Oikawa, who stood to the side of Kaito. Beautiful brown eyes were narrowed, dark around the edges. Oikawa was analysing him, taking him in for all his worth. Kaito felt his mouth dry up. He licked his lips, awe riddling his bones as he tried to calm his jittery heart. Here was the reason why Kaito had learnt how to play the sport, to begin with. His cause. And now, as it would appear, his consequence.

Like looking at a star in reverse, everything around Oikawa and Kaito faded away. Sound, sight, scent. All that was left was him and him, staring at one another as though the entire world had stopped. Just for them.

"I'm Oikawa Tooru," he introduced, breaking the silence. "And you are...?"

"Ishioka Kaito." He bowed respectfully.

"It's nice to meet you. How do you like your sets?"

It was a simple question— one that should not have meant anything. Oikawa smiled at him, and Kaito saw the lines where other smiles had been. It was an easy motion for the setter, swift and practised. Still, there was something about it that had Kaito's heart fluttering. Oikawa's attention was on him.

"Like them?" Kaito cocked his head. "I don't know what you mean."

"I mean, how do you like to hit them? High up or right above your eyesight?" Oikawa offered, smiling amicably.

Kaito contemplated. "Hm, I don't really mind. I've never had anyone set for me before Shi-san, to be honest." He beamed at the older teenager, "You're more experienced, so whatever you think is best, Oikawa-senpai!"

Oikawa drew his bottom lip into his mouth. His eyes were on Kaito, but they seemed to be unseeing, as if he was conjuring a different scene altogether in his head. "If that's the case, just run up, and I'll set it for you."

"Aye, aye, captain!" Kaito saluted him.

He took a few steps back, eyeing the way Oikawa's focus shifted to the ball. The older setter took a deep breath, put his thoughts together and pushed the ball into the air with a gentle graze of his fingertips. Oikawa had purposely set the ball higher—and half of him expected the boy to stumble and falter, to struggle to hit his set because no one but his soulmates were so quick to anticipate his movements, but—he hit it. He hit the ball.

"Wow," muttered Iwaizumi.

"He's able to deduce the set before he jumps," Matsukawa thought aloud. He saw how Kaito watched the set and moved accordingly. Because Oikawa's set was high, he added more spring to his step, swinging his arms to help him lift off the ground. It made him whistle, low and quick (and the thought of Matsukawa, of all people, whistling has my kitty quivering). "That's pretty impressive."

"I think it's a bit more than pretty impressive," Hanamaki said. "Like look at Tooru. He's absolutely blown away."

Stars shone in a pair of brown eyes, a stark contrast to the mundane scenery surrounding them. Oikawa's lips parted ever so slightly, but no sound could escape his mouth. He was frozen in his position, his arms still in the air, fingers still extended, reaching for something— what that was, Oikawa had no clue. But he withdrew them the moment it hit him. This boy, this boy that reminded Oikawa of himself— he managed to actually fucking do what he half-thought was impossible. 

Part of him refused to believe it. Refused to believe that no one in the same mental state as him could be so content with their actions. Kaito was smiling, looking at the ball that rolled to the side of the other court. He landed on his feet, buzzing on the spot.

Oikawa looked at him in disbelief.

Idly, he wondered if this was what he would be like if he followed the first train of thought: knowing he was going to do better.

Kaito grimaced when he noticed the look on the setter's face. "Was that okay?" he asked hesitantly. "If it wasn't, I can fix it. Just—"

"No," Oikawa shook his head vehemently. And a smile graced his face, one that took Kaito's breath away. He was reminded of the first time he saw Oikawa. Soaring high in the air, not a doubt in his mind, not a trace of insecurity in his midst. Just him. The court. And volleyball. "It was perfect. Really."

Kaito grinned, "Thanks!"

It felt good to hear that. To be able to hear something positive about his hard work from the person who mattered the fucking most.

"Let's continue," Oikawa chirped, grabbing another ball from the trolley that Yahaba had pulled up earlier. He looked at Kaito with glee, as well as some sort of anticipation. "I want to see what else you can do."

"Sure thing!"

The two continued working together. Oikawa would set the ball to Kaito, testing out his abilities, and Kaito would hit it each time without fail. It filled Oikawa with a sense of exhilaration, knowing that there was someone who could hit each toss he sent out. It was as if they were a perfect match, like two puzzle pieces slotting together in such a smooth fit.

Aoba Johsai's volleyball team all paused in their practice, enamoured by the training happening on the corner-most court. Their captain was setting to an unfamiliar player; smiles stretched on both of their faces. The aura around them was beautiful, filled with a sort of invigorating, palpable energy.

A whistle blared through the gymnasium, tearing through the tense, aweing silence encompassing the area. Mizoguchi stood up, his hands on his waist and a whistle resting between his lips. His eyes were trained onto the setter-spiker duo, watching how they slowed down to a shortstop, the sound of the ball hitting the ground echoing in the back.

"We're playing a practice match," he yelled, making sure they all heard him. "Yahaba, Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, Watari, Yuda and Shido. You're on one team." He shifted. "Oikawa, Hanamaki, Kindaichi, Kunimi, Sawauichi, you're on the other."

Irihata cleared his throat. "Ishioka. You join them."

The two coaches spotted how he perked up instantly, alight with the flames of dawn.

Kaito bounded over to where Oikawa was heading. The older setter handed him a teal-coloured bib. "You'll play outside hitter," he informed. "That okay with you?"

"Yup!" He slipped it on.

They lined up in their teams. Irihata and Mizoguchi watched them with an eagle-eye sight. They had deliberately put their libero, Watari, on the other team to see how well Kaito would work as a receiver. That, and they put their strongest hitter, Iwaizumi, and middle blocker, Matsukawa, against him. All of it was purposeful. The only reason why Oikawa was playing as Kaito's setter was because Oikawa managed to bring out his potential in just a short amount of time.

They needed to see what else Kaito could achieve in a realistic game-time situation.

"Begin!"

There was no better feeling than this, Kaito rationalised. Playing with a bunch of professional volleyball players filled him with such excitement that he thought he could die happily on the spot. He received spikes when on the back row, blocked them when in the front, and even managed to score a couple of points every time Oikawa called his name.

There, truly, truly, was no better feeling than this. To be completely at the mercy of Oikawa (as his setter) and no one else.

Oikawa felt the same. He saw how Kaito managed to fill in most of their empty spots. He picked up balls quickly, bending forward and moving in the weirdest ways to receive the ball— and it always worked because he got it up in the air and not only that, but to Oikawa. The setter had grinned manically the third time it happened, knowing it wasn't accidental or a result of some dumb luck.

Oikawa had only known Kaito for less than a day— for less than an hour, actually, but in that short amount of time, something about him had wormed itself so deeply into his soul that it felt as though they were connected. As though they were made from the same matter. He didn't think much of that, of course. Knew better when he already had his soulmates. Instead, Oikawa focused on just how he could use Kaito and use him well.

A slither of sadism ventured down his spine. He wanted to push the younger boy more. "Ishioka," Oikawa called, staring straight at the ball coming towards him. "Run up!"

Kaito's eyes widened, but he didn't back away from the challenge. He sprinted to the front, his feet balanced and equal, and when he got to the spot he needed to be at, he saw how Oikawa was lowering himself, letting the ball fall a bit (so he'd set later because Matsukawa had jumped up already), and jumped the moment Oikawa set the ball. He drew his arm back and slammed it down, right through the gap between Matsukawa and Iwaizumi.

Oikawa laughed whole-heartedly. His eyes were wide in amazement, sweat dribbling down his body like a second skin. They were all like that, panting heavily, energised by whatever enthusiasm Kaito was exuding.

"That was epic, Ishioka-chan!" he cheered.

"Next time, let me know beforehand if you wanna do something like that!" Kaito threw his hands out petulantly. "I almost fell!"

Hanamaki laughed, making his way over. He pulled him into his arms, rubbing his knuckles over Kaito's head and praised him, "Way to go, kid!" Kaito grumbled, ducking away from his hold. Still, he smiled.

"Thanks!"

On the other side, Iwaizumi and Matsukawa were panting, bent over and glaring at the boy with something akin to frustration but also some sort of fondness. Like astonishment.

"He's giving us a run for our money," Iwaizumi huffed, smiling as he saw their soulmates praise the kid. Kindaichi was also extending his own compliments, fawning over the quick attack Oikawa and Kaito just did.

It was fast, faster than anything they had on their team (though nothing like that weird monster quick from Karasuno).

Matsukawa agreed. He lifted his shirt, rubbing away the sweat glistening on his skin. "He's a pretty boy on the outside and springs on the inside." His idle comment didn't go unnoticed by Yahaba, who arched his brows. "Damn, my knees are trembling already."

On the other side of the court, Kunimi handed a ball to Kaito. "It's your serve," he informed, moving to his position.

"Give us a good one!" Hanamaki yelled.

Kaito grimaced. He took the ball, walked to the back row and swallowed down his nerves. Raising one hand, Kaito prepared himself for the worst. The others were all facing the front, ready to pick up whatever sort of crazy serve he had packed in his drawer. Anticipation sang a sweet symphony through their bloodstream, moving to the rhythm of their rapid heartbeats. Their fingers twitched in front of them. Legs trembling with a desperate need to move, receive and score.

They heard the swoosh of the ball in the air.

They tensed up. Readied themselves.

To their surprise, the ball collided into the net. And they all blinked, slow, careful. It felt like cold water was thrown down upon them. Like a herd of surprised birds, they cocked their heads in Kaito's direction, watching him sheepishly rub the back of his neck.

He simpered, "I suck at serving."

It was the older coach who laughed, gathering all their attention. He stood from his position. "Ishioka-san. You have proven yourself very capable today. I must admit, I didn't expect much from you. Nevertheless, this match has proven you'd be a good asset to the team."

Kaito perked up. "Does that mean I can join?"

"Yes." And the grin on Kaito's face was replicated among the mass. "Provided you catch up," Irihata added quickly.

"I'll do my very best!"

"I expect nothing less," Irihata smiled, fatherly almost. He looked at the time on his watch and clapped his hands loudly. "Alright, let's pack up. It's getting late, and you all need to sleep. I don't want another troubling situation with your teachers. Move it!"

Oikawa whipped his head over to the side, lips parted with words on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to speak to Kaito, wanted to devour every single information he could get from the brunet, but he was nowhere near him. Kaito had wormed his way over to Yahaba's side, pestering him with questions.

A frown tugged at Oikawa's lips.

"You're staring," Hanamaki sang from behind him, his presence a welcoming comfort.

"Can you blame me?" Oikawa breathed, almost breathless. "He's amazing."

"So we've seen." Hanamaki clasped his hands on the setter's shoulders, steering him away from the duo's directions and to where their soulmates were waiting for them. "Come on. Don't just stand there like some weirdo."

"I am not a weirdo, thank you very much!"

"Could've fooled me."

"Makki!"

━━━━━━ ◦ ✤ ◦ ━━━━━━

Packing up didn't require a lot of time. The team moved together like it was second nature, rolling up the nets, dragging the poles to their storage room and etcetera. Yahaba and Kaito sat by their bags, tugging off their knee pads and packing them away.

The sound of footsteps getting closer to them had the two looking up, spotting the third-years standing in front of them.

"You were really impressive today," Iwaizumi complimented, a soft smile on his face (and Kaito wondered how someone that looked like him could possibly walk on this earth. It wasn't fair— he also made sure to keep his eyes on Iwaizumi's face and nowhere else). "How long have you been playing volleyball?"

Kaito pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side, doing the maths in his head. "Uh...about two months now?" he answered honestly.

Their eyes widened. Everyone around them snapped over to the group.

"Two months?!" Watari exclaimed. "No way!"

Even Yahaba was surprised. He glanced at his friend like he had grown two heads.

Hanamaki questioned, "How are you this good in two months?"

Kaito smiled sheepishly. "Well, actually, I saw you playing in summer, Oikawa-senpai." The older setter blinked in surprise. "My little brothers go to the gymnasium you volunteer at. I liked how you played, and I taught myself the sport. That's pretty much it."

Matsukawa stared at him, unbelieving. He jerked his thumb in Oikawa's direction. "Wait, so you saw this dumbass teach a bunch of kids volleyball and decided to play?"

"Yeah, essentially. My parents weren't happy with how many hours I spent studying the sport. I ended up with lots of injuries." He laughed, playing it off. "They were minor, though. Nothing to worry about."

Yes, because going to the emergency room multiple times throughout a summer holiday was perfectly okay. And, don't forget the books that were so worn that someone with no muscle strength could rip them apart like they were fallen leaves. Oh! And also, of course, the obsessive desire that stemmed from it all. Who else would watch match after match, implementing techniques until it was engraved into your bone marrow?

"I don't know whether to be impressed or slightly scared," Hanamaki muttered.

Iwaizumi nodded. "Me too."

Kaito laughed and jumped to his feet. He grabbed his duffle bag, slinging it over his shoulders with a smile on his face. "I promise, there's nothing to be scared of. It's fun."

Kindaichi saw his action and called out to him, "Wait, are you not staying to change here?"

"Hm? Nah." Kaito shook his head. "I think I'm gonna go jog back home to cool off."

Oikawa hummed, that cool facade of his disappearing now that Kaito was something valuable to him. "Alright," he said, a genuine smile crossing his face (and Kaito reigned in whatever hormones shot through the roof at the stunning sight of it). "We'll give you the training uniform tomorrow. Come in the morning for practice, though."

"What time?"

"Seven."

Kaito nodded. "Sounds doable. I'll be here."

With that, he left. People took that as a signal to shuffle into the changing rooms, muttering about the almost surreal training session they had today. Who'd have thought, huh? It was just a normal Tuesday, and suddenly there was a new player on the team— and not just that, but a good new player. Guess there's a reason for everything. And for Aoba Johsai? For the wilting flowers? Well, they had a new fertilizer here. Ready to bring them to life.

And to victory.