Chapter Text
Chapter One: The Reunion Match
The gym in Miyagi echoed with squeaks of shoes and the faint thud of volleyballs. It wasn’t an official tournament, just a reunion match organized by several former high school rivals.
Oikawa Tooru adjusted his knee pads dramatically, like he was on the Olympic stage instead of a dusty local gym. “Finally! The genius setter returns to Japan after conquering Argentina! Make way for greatness! Paparazzi, line up on the left…”
“Shut up, Trashykawa,” Iwaizumi muttered, smacking him lightly on the back of the head. “You’re here to play, not narrate your own midlife crisis.”
“Midlife crisis?!” Oikawa gasped like he’d been stabbed. “I’m still in my prime, Iwa-chan! Don’t kill my international appeal!”
From the opposite side of the court, Hinata practically bounced in place like he’d had four energy drinks. “Kageyama! Did you see that warm-up spike?! I’m still improving, y’know!”
Kageyama frowned, arms crossed. “Your form’s sloppy. I’ll fix it.”
Hinata squawked. “You don’t get to ‘fix’ me like I’m a broken toaster!”
“You kind of are,” Kageyama deadpanned. “Sometimes you work, sometimes you just… burn things.”
They bickered, but their feet shifted toward each other unconsciously, gravitating like magnets.
On the sidelines, Bokuto shouted at the top of his lungs:
“HEYYY! Akaashi! Did you see my serve? Did you see it?”
Akaashi pinched the bridge of his nose. “I literally tossed the ball to you, Bokuto-san. I had a front-row seat to the disaster.”
“Disaster?!” Bokuto wailed, clutching his chest. “Akaashi, my heart! Don’t betray me in front of everyone!”
“I’m not betraying you,” Akaashi sighed. “I’m offering constructive criticism.”
“Same thing!” Bokuto yelled.
Meanwhile, Ushijima observed the circus with his usual calm stoicism, arms folded like he was grading an exam. “Strange. They act like rivals, but they’re in love.”
Tendo, sprawled beside him on the floor like a starfish, perked up immediately.
“Ohhh, you noticed too? Iwa-chan’s ears turn red every time Oikawa smiles, Hinata and Kageyama are basically a married couple with communication issues, and Bokuto… well, Bokuto’s only weakness is being ignored by Akaashi. This is the best reality show I’ve ever seen.”
Kenma, half-buried in his hoodie, finally looked up from his Switch. “This is good content. I should stream it. Title: Ex-High School Volleyball Players Accidentally Confess During Exhibition Match.”
Oikawa whipped around. “Kenma-kun! If you stream me, please make sure to use flattering camera angles. I need Argentina to see that my jawline hasn’t aged!”
“Jawline?” Kageyama scoffed. “More like a clown line.”
OW DARE YOU!” Oikawa shrieked, his voice sharp with outrage. Iwaizumi placed a steady hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down.
Hinata leaned toward Kageyama, whisper-shouting, “See?! They’re basically like us, but older and louder!”
“Don’t compare us to that,” Kageyama muttered, jerking his thumb at Oikawa mid-dramatic spin.
The whistle blew. And then chaos began.
Oikawa opened the game with a serve so over-the-top he screamed “VIVA ARGENTINA” mid-air. Hinata shrieked back “VIVA KARASUNO” while trying to receive it, only to crash into Kageyama.
“DUMBASS, MOVE!” Kageyama barked.
“NO, YOU MOVE!” Hinata yelled from the floor.
Bokuto, meanwhile, was flexing after every point regardless of whether he earned it or not. “I’M BACK, BABY! OWLS RULE!”
“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi muttered, deadpan, “you just tripped on the net.”
Tendo was wheezing on the sideline, tears streaming down his face. “This isn’t volleyball anymore, this is comedy gold!”
Ushijima just nodded. “It’s still volleyball.”
Kenma lifted his phone lazily, already typing in the caption for his clip. Reunion Match: Proof that Love is Real, and Volleyball is Just Foreplay.
The crowd roared with laughter before the second serve even hit the net.
The scoreboard didn’t matter. Points blurred together in a tornado of bad decisions, yelling, and suspiciously romantic undertones.
By the end of the first set, Hinata and Kageyama were flat on the floor, tangled in a heap after yet another “synchronized” dive.
Hinata wheezed, “I told you to cover the left!”
“I WAS covering the left!” Kageyama snapped, glaring at him from two inches away.
“You’re literally on top of me right now!” Hinata yelled, cheeks red.
Tendo leaned forward, cupping his hands around his mouth like a stadium announcer,
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE HONEYMOON IS GOING WELL.”
Kageyama’s ears turned bright crimson. Hinata squawked like a bird and shoved him off.
Meanwhile, Oikawa was wiping sweat dramatically from his forehead, tossing his hair back like he was filming a shampoo commercial. “Did you see that set, Iwa-chan? My precision, my elegance, Argentina weeps because I am gone!”
Iwaizumi groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Argentina weeps because you never shut up.”
“Excuse me?!” Oikawa gasped. “I’m a national treasure!”
“You’re a national embarrassment,” Iwaizumi shot back.
From the bench, Tendo clutched Ushijima’s arm. “Did you see that? That wasn’t an insult, that was foreplay.”
Ushijima, stone-faced: “Iwaizumi is very aggressive. Oikawa seems to enjoy it.”
“EXACTLY.” Tendo cackled, falling over.
On the far side, Bokuto was sulking after missing a spike. “Akaashiiiiii, don’t look at me like that. I’ll cry.”
“I’m not looking at you like anything,” Akaashi said flatly.
“You are! You’re using your silent disappointment glare!” Bokuto wailed, clutching his chest. “My only weakness!”
Kenma, still recording, muttered without looking up from his phone, “This is better than any Netflix drama. I’m naming the stream "When Rivals Become Lovers: Volleyball Edition.”
“Don’t you dare!” Oikawa yelled, spinning toward him with the speed of someone whose dignity was on life support. “Do you know how hard I worked on my image?!”
“Image?” Iwaizumi barked a laugh. “Your image is being a dumbass who makes everything about himself.”
“THAT’S CALLED BRANDING,” Oikawa snapped.
Bokuto threw both hands up. “Guys! Focus! The ball’s still in play!”
It wasn’t. The ball had rolled out five minutes ago. Everyone paused.
Kenma’s stream chat exploded with LMAOOO, WHO NEEDS VOLLEYBALL JUST LET THEM FIGHT, and KAGEHINA MARRIAGE ARC WHEN.
The referee sighed so deeply it echoed. “End of the first set.”
Tendo leapt up, arms in the air. “End of the first set? More like the end of the first closet!”
The gym erupted in chaos all over again.
The second set hadn’t even started when the gym doors swung open.
In strutted Kuroo Tetsuro, carrying a bag of snacks like he was about to host a movie night instead of watching a volleyball game. Behind him trailed Sugawara, wearing the smile of a man about to commit social arson, and Atsumu, who had clearly come just to stir the pot.
“Helloooo, dysfunctional couples therapy session!” Kuroo called, waving dramatically. “Don’t mind us, we’re just here to spectate your breakdowns.”
“I knew it!” Sugawara beamed, plopping himself on the bleachers. “I told Daichi this was basically going to turn into a mass confession. Honestly, I’m proud of you all for being so emotionally constipated in such entertaining ways.”
“‘Mass confession’?” Oikawa sputtered. “Excuse me, I am here to play volleyball.”
“Sure you are,” Atsumu cut in, grinning like a devil. “That’s why ya keep flippin’ your hair at Iwaizumi like you’re auditionin’ for a shampoo ad. Don’t worry, ‘Kawa, he’s already whipped. Save the theatrics.”
“WHIPPED?!” Iwaizumi exploded, face red. “I AM NOT…”
“Ohhh, denial!” Sugawara clapped like a proud parent. “Classic first stage of romance.”
Oikawa batted his lashes innocently. “See, Iwa-chan? Even Sugawara-senpai thinks you’re secretly in love with me.”
“I’LL SECRETLY KILL YOU,” Iwaizumi snapped, chasing him across the court.
The newcomers were delighted.
Kuroo pointed at Hinata and Kageyama, still hovering a little too close on the sidelines. “And look at those two, domestic squabble number fifty-seven. Guys, just get married already. I’ll officiate. I charge by the hour.”
Hinata’s face went tomato red. “W-we’re not! He’s just! KAGEYAMA, SAY SOMETHING!”
Kageyama froze like a deer in headlights, then blurted out, “Your sets are the only ones I trust!” Silence.
Sugawara dropped his water bottle, laughing. “AND WE HAVE OUR FIRST CONFESSION OF THE NIGHT!”
Kenma didn’t even look up from his phone. “Clipping that.”
On the opposite end, Bokuto puffed up his chest. “Akaashi and I don’t need anyone to roast us. We’re solid. Rock solid. UNBREAKABLE!”
Akaashi arched an eyebrow. “You cried earlier when I said your serve was crooked.”
The bleachers howled.
“Ohhh, the couple that bickers together, sticks together!” Kuroo cheered, tossing popcorn into the air like confetti.
“Stop calling us couples!” Oikawa shrieked, voice cracking, as Iwaizumi dragged him back to their bench.
“Too late,” Atsumu said smugly. “This is officially the best rom-com crossover in volleyball history. Someone call Netflix.”
The referee blew the whistle, trying to restore order. “The second set begins, if you clowns are done.”
They weren’t. They would never be.
The second set began. Sort of.
It started with Oikawa’s serve, a theatrical toss so high it nearly touched the ceiling.
“BEHOLD!” he shouted mid-jump. “THE BEAUTY OF ARGENTINA’S GREATEST…”
“Shut up and serve!” Iwaizumi barked.
The ball slammed over the net at lightning speed. Hinata dove for it, collided with Kageyama (again), and somehow the ball ricocheted off Hinata’s forehead back into the air.
Kageyama, pure reflex, set it perfectly.
Hinata spiked with a scream, “THIS IS WHY I LOVE YOUR SETS!”
Silence. The ball hit the floor with a satisfying thud. Point earned. Everyone froze.
Hinata’s face went nuclear red. “I-I MEANT I LOVE SETTING WITH YOU! NO… WAIT… NOT LIKE THAT… ”
Kageyama’s brain blue-screened. His entire vocabulary collapsed to one word:
“BOKE!”
From the bleachers, Atsumu was already on his feet. “CONFESSION NUMBER ONE! THE SHRIMPY STRIKES FIRST!”
Sugawara fanned himself with a towel. “Oh, young love. Brings me back.”
“Back to what?” Kuroo asked. “Back when Daichi made you swoon during morning practice?”
Sugawara threw the towel at him. “Shut up!”
Meanwhile, Oikawa was fuming. “Ugh, even the little tangerine has more romantic tension than me! Iwa-chan, quick, say something dramatic!”
Iwaizumi’s eye twitched. “Like what?”
“Like ‘I’ve always admired you, Oikawa,’” Oikawa suggested, batting his lashes.
“I admire how you manage to be this annoying without getting punched more often,” Iwaizumi deadpanned.
“That’s basically a confession,” Tendo cackled, falling off the bench.
Ushijima nodded thoughtfully. “Yes. Admiration is the seed of affection.”
Oikawa squealed, pointing at Iwaizumi. “SEE, EVEN USHIJIMA GETS IT!”
“Don’t drag me into your nonsense,” Iwaizumi muttered, ears pink.
Bokuto, not to be outdone, slammed a spike so hard the gym shook. He puffed up his chest, spinning toward the sidelines.
“DID YOU SEE THAT, AKAASHI?! WASN’T I AMAZING?!”
Akaashi adjusted his glasses calmly. “Yes. You were incredible, Bokuto-san.”
Bokuto froze. His jaw dropped. “Wait, what did you just say?”
“I said you were incredible.” Akaashi tilted his head. “Isn’t that obvious?”
Bokuto’s wings practically sprouted on the spot. “AKAASHI CALLED ME INCREDIBLE. THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE.”
Kenma muttered into his phone mic, “Clip that. Title: ‘Boy Explodes After Boyfriend Compliments Him.’”
The referee slammed the whistle again. “This is a volleyball game, not a soap opera!”
Kuroo grinned like a man watching fireworks. “Honestly, it’s both.”
Sugawara raised his bottle like toast. “Here’s to the second set, may it only get more embarrassing from here.”
And oh, it did.
The second set was supposed to continue. Instead, it devolved into something no one could quite name. The scoreboard might as well have been turned off.
Hinata and Kageyama were nose-to-nose in the middle of the court.
Hinata: “You can’t just SAY things like that out loud!”
Kageyama: “You started it!”
Hinata: “I WAS TALKING ABOUT VOLLEYBALL!”
Kageyama: “SO WAS I!”
Hinata: “…Were you though?!”
“THERAPY SESSION TABLE ONE,” Tendo announced like a game show host. “Topic: Repressed Feelings and Sets.”
On the other side, Oikawa had collapsed dramatically onto the floor, staring at the ceiling like Hamlet with a volleyball. “Iwa-chan refuses to acknowledge my greatness. How am I supposed to thrive in such a loveless environment?”
Iwaizumi groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “For the last time, I do acknowledge you.”
Oikawa perked up instantly. “You do?”
“…You’re the most hardworking, stubborn, pain-in-the-ass setter I’ve ever met,” Iwaizumi muttered.
“That’s… that’s a confession if I’ve ever heard one!” Oikawa clutched his chest. “HE LOVES ME!”
“I SAID YOU’RE A PAIN,” Iwaizumi barked.
“Same thing!” Tendo yelled from the sidelines, nearly choking on popcorn Kuroo had handed him.
“THERAPY SESSION TABLE TWO,” Kuroo declared, smirking. “Topic: The Line Between Love and Hate Is Thin, and Trashykawa Lives On It.”
Meanwhile, Bokuto was sulking by the net, hands on his knees. “Akaashi, do you really think I’m incredible? Or were you just being polite?”
Akaashi blinked. “Why would I lie about that?”
“THERAPY SESSION TABLE THREE,” Sugawara sang out, throwing his arms wide. “Topic: Compliments, Confidence, and Crybabies With Muscles.”
Kenma, still filming, sighed into his mic. “I swear this is turning into Dr. Phil, but with spandex.”
The referee had given up. He leaned against the wall, blowing his whistle only to cover his laughter.
Atsumu finally stood, clapping his hands like he was conducting the world’s worst orchestra. “Alright, alright, let’s speed this up. Everyone say ONE nice thing about your partner-slash-rival-slash-secret crush so we can maybe play actual volleyball again!”
Hinata spun, face red. “Kageyama’s sets feel like flying!”
Kageyama froze. “…Hinata always makes me want to keep playing.”
Oikawa gasped theatrically. “Iwa-chan protects me even when he pretends he hates me!”
Iwaizumi shouted, “I ONLY PROTECT YOU BECAUSE YOU’RE A MENACE!” but his ears betrayed him, glowing scarlet.
Bokuto yelled, “Akaashi is my entire reason for existing!”
“…That’s excessive,” Akaashi sighed, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
The gym fell into stunned silence.
Sugawara clasped his hands like a priest. “Ladies and gentlemen, the volleyball match is dead. Long live Volleyball Therapy.”
Kuroo grinned, tossing popcorn into the air. “I’m giving this five stars on Yelp.”
The referee scribbled something on his clipboard. “Official ruling: Second set forfeited due to emotional meltdown.”
The crowd roared with laughter and applause as the players, flustered, red-eared, and still bickering, collapsed into what could only be described as the weirdest group therapy session Japan had ever seen.