---
The afternoon sun spilled through Karasuno's gym windows, casting golden light across the hardwood floor.
The team trickled in after classes—Hinata bouncing on his toes, arms stretching wide, Kageyama scowling at a volleyball as he spun it between his fingers.
Tsukishima leaned against the wall, headphones half-on, barely listening, while Yamaguchi fidgeted beside him, gaze flicking between the floor and the net.
Tanaka swung at imaginary balls, declaring to no one in particular, "Bring it on!" Nearby, Daichi and Sugawara chatted quietly, a calm center in the restless energy swirling through the gym.
The doors banged open. Takeda stepped in, glasses glinting, a triumphant grin pulling at his face like a child revealing a secret.
"Everyone, listen up!" he called, clapping sharply. Heads turned. The team gathered, curiosity piqued.
"I've got big news—starting today, we have a coach!" Takeda puffed out his chest, barely containing his excitement. "Keishin Ukai—grandson of the Coach Ukai—has agreed to lead us. At least until our practice match with Nekoma next week!"
A stunned silence followed.
Hinata's eyes lit up—he'd already know it, but hearing it out loud made it real. "A coach?!?!"
Tanaka whooped, pumping a fist. "Hell yeah! We're legit now!"
Daichi stepped forward, bowing deeply. "Thank you, Sensei. That's huge for us."
"Yeah, thank you," Sugawara added with a soft smile. "We've all heard of the Ukai name."
Takeda waved them off, embarrassed. "No need to thank me—it's for your sake. He'll be here any moment, so let's make a good impression!"
Right on cue, the gym doors creaked again.
Keishin Ukai strode in, tracksuit hanging loose around his frame, an unlit cigarette tucked between his lips.
His hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, eyes sharp and appraising as he scanned the team like they were stats on a clipboard.
He paused.
"Yo," he said casually, hands shoved in his pockets. "I'm Ukai. I'll be your coach 'til this Nekoma thing. Heard you beat Aoba Johsai—decent." He smirked. "Takeda's been hyping you up. Let's see if you're worth it."
A ripple of nervous energy passed through the team.
"The match with Nekoma's set. Next week, right here. Old rivalry—cats vs. crows. But before that, I need to know what I'm working with. Starting now."
Tanaka grinned, "Bring it, Coach!"
Hinata nodded eagerly. "Yeah! Let's go!"
Ukai arched a brow. "Love the spirit. Hope the skills keep up."
He grabbed a ball and moved to the baseline. "First—receives. Five serves each. Show me control."
The team scrambled into formation.
Daichi was first.
Ukai's serve cracked across the court—thwack.
Daichi stepped cleanly into position, arms firm, the ball arcing high with textbook form. Four more followed—solid, dependable.
Captain's reliable, Ukai noted. Good base to build on.
Tanaka followed. Wild, loud, determined. "Got it!" he shouted with every ball, even as one wobbled off-line.
Scrappy, high-energy. Needs some structure, but he's got fight.
Sugawara stepped in, quiet and focused. All five receives landed clean, the ball floating with near-perfect control.
Smart. Steady. The kind of player who reads everything before moving.
Tsukishima stood tall at the line, impassive.
Ukai's serve snapped across.
He received four cleanly—cool and calculated—but the last one veered off his arm.
"Tch," he muttered, annoyed but not flustered.
Tall, technical. But that attitude… needs a push.
Yamaguchi stepped up, eyes wide with nerves. Two missed entirely, the next three shakily returned.
Raw. Shaky. But there's something there if he sticks it out.
Then came Kageyama. Robotic, almost—locked in, zero hesitation.
He absorbed every serve with perfect posture, like he was reading Ukai's thoughts before he even moved.
Setter's a machine, Ukai thought. Dangerous one, too.
Hinata stepped up, eyes blazing. "My turn!"
Ukai raised a brow. "Alright, shorty—impress me."
First serve—hard and spinning. Hinata lunged low, arms snapping into place. The ball floated up, dead center.
"One!" he chirped, springing back to his feet.
Second.
Third.
Fourth—each clean.
He moved like electricity.
The fifth shot hard to the far corner. Hinata flung himself, popping it high with a perfect form that seemed impossible from his size.
"Five!" he called out, panting but smiling.
Ukai blinked. What the hell was that? Reflexes like a cat on Red Bull. "Nice job," he said, tossing the ball aside. "Receives look good—some of you need work, but it's not bad. Next—spikes."
He motioned. "Suga, Kageyama—you're setting. Rest of you, let's see that firepower."
Sugawara and Kageyama took opposite positions. The others split into lines.
Daichi was first, taking Sugawara's toss. He jumped, slammed the ball straight and clean. Reliable. Nothing fancy—but it lands where it hurts.
Tanaka followed, yelling mid-air, "Here we gooo!" His spike cracked against the floor—fast and wild.
Raw, chaotic—but he can score off chaos. Needs refining.
Tsukishima took Sugawara's set. A sharp spike, accurate but light.
Too cautious.
Needs confidence more than strength.
Yamaguchi stepped up. Kageyama set him a good one—he hesitated, then swung. It landed, but barely.
Still growing. Nerves holding him back.
Hinata was next. He glanced at Kageyama, who gave him a short nod.
"Set me high!"
Kageyama launched a perfect toss—high, floating like a dream.
Hinata exploded upward, higher than any of them had seen. He twisted mid-air, arm slicing downward—BOOM. The ball slammed to the floor like a meteor.
Ukai's eyes widened. No way. That jump… that power…
Hinata landed light, flashing a grin. "How's that, Coach?!"
Ukai smirked, hands still in pockets. "Not bad, Kid. Keep doing that."
Practice continued. Ukai paced, sharp eyes cutting through every motion.
Daichi—solid. Tanaka—fireball with no brakes. Sugawara—smart anchor. Tsukishima—brainy, but needs guts. Yamaguchi—rough diamond. Kageyama—damn genius, cold and focused. And Hinata—untamed spark, ridiculous vertical. These two first-years… something else entirely.
He rubbed his chin, already planning drills, team dynamics, setter-spiker combos. If I shape this right, Nekoma's in for a fight.
Suddenly, the gym doors creaked open again.
A small crowd of middle-aged men wandered in—tracksuits, calloused hands, eyes filled with nostalgia. Laughter and chatter filled the air as they looked around, fondness etched into their faces.
"Well, damn—Keishin in the Karasuno gym? That takes me back!"
Another clapped his hands. "Same old court, same old smell! Love it!"
A third grinned at the team. "Hey, kids—your coach's old man ruled this court like a legend!"
Ukai groaned. "Oh . The neighborhood geezers."
Takeda blinked. "You know them?"
"Yeah," Ukai sighed. "Karasuno alumni. Local league guys. They drop in sometimes—nostalgic, noisy."
The leader, big and grizzled, clapped Ukai's shoulder. "Caught you coaching, huh? Bet your grandpa's watching—crows are flying again."
"Don't get sappy," Ukai grumbled. "We're working here."
Hinata looked up. "Wait—you played here too, Coach?!"
Ukai turned slightly. "Long time ago. Don't ask."
The alumni chuckled, settling near the benches, trading stories of old games.
Their voices became a soft hum in the background—a bridge between past and present—as practice resumed under new guidance.
---
To be continued…
---