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Lev vs. The Invisible Rival (Ace-Level Suffering Edition)
After making it to the starting outline on the Nekoma team, Lev only became sure of one thing: the gym was conspiring against him.
Not just the gym—but… literally everything. The floor, the net, even the volleyballs themselves seemed to take special delight in bouncing just out of reach.
It smelled like Lev’s impending doom.
“Again,” Yaku barked, already setting up the next toss.
Another serve screamed over the net.
Another leap.
Lev’s arms were aching, legs jelly. The ball still found the floor.
“Again,” Yaku barked.
Lev wheezed. “How… many… more?”
Yaku’s glare was sharp enough to shave paint. “Until you actually look like an Ace.”
There it was. The Curse of My Own Big Mouth.
A month ago, during the Tokyo training camp, Lev had puffed out his chest and proclaimed to the entire volleyball universe: “I’ll be Nekoma’s Ace!”
He could still hear his own voice echoing in his nightmares along with the collective groan of his teammates.
Now every practice was punishment for that one glorious, stupid sentence. Extra reps. Extra blocks. Extra everything.
Kenma strolled over with a fresh ball, hoodie strings bouncing.
“You’ve gotten better,” he said mildly.
Lev lit up. Praise! Finally!
Kenma added, without inflection, “But you’re still nowhere near as good as Shōyō.”
Lev staggered as if his ego was spiked down. “WHAT?”
Kenma tossed the ball lazily. “His jump timing’s insane. Reads blocks faster, too. You have a long way to go.” Then he drifted back toward the service line like a cat returning to its nap.
But something about Kenma made Lev pause.
After all, Lev prided himself on noticing things. Important, like Ace-worthy things.
How to track a setter’s eyes.
Or how Kuroo’s hair somehow defied gravity.
But lately, what he kept noticing was… Kenma.
Kenma was never this chatty.
His daily word count hovered somewhere between “grunted agreement” and “low-battery meow.”
But lately, Kenma’s been… different. More… expressive. Since meeting… Hinata. Yep. That’s it. That little spark in his eyes, the twitch of his lips when he’s amused like he’s… alive. Alive! And not in the usual lazy-cat way, no no no, but in that “someone just shook the entire universe and now I can’t look away” way.
So the next day, when Kenma casually said during warm-ups, “Shōyō would spike that,” Lev almost dropped the ball cart.
Kenma’s talking about him again. The little orange guy from camp. That hyper bouncy kid.
Kenma, still scrolling his phone, added under his breath, “He’s amazing in the air.”
Lev’s brain screeched.
AMAZING?!
Kenma had never called Lev amazing. Or even “pretty okay.”
He replayed the training camp memory: Hinata rocketing past his block, behind him, a group of overly confident flock of crows.
Sure, Lev had noticed the kid’s hops—but he’d moved on.
Apparently Kenma hadn’t.
Lev’s eyes widened.
Kenma’s vocal output has increased 300%.
Mentions of “Shōyō” per minute: 7.2.
Alert level: catastrophic.
Attention shift detected!
Emotional disturbance: maximum!
Fan expectations for KenmaxKuroo: at 0.1%!
Emergency intervention: required.
Across the net, Kuroo was stretching, oblivious.
Lev’s heart did a weird sympathetic squeeze.
Kuroo-senpai… a challenger has appeared!
Lev imagined a dramatic fight poster:
Kuroo vs. Shōyō: Battle for Kenma’s Heart (and Maybe His Attention Span).
Flames. Lightning bolts. Kenma in the middle, holding his Switch like a trophy.
He gulped.
No. No, this is not happening.
He glared furiously at Kenma, ignoring the curious glances of Inuoka and Fukunaga:
“But why… why is he so animated? He’s supposed to be… Kenma!” Lev whispered to himself.
And he’s talking about someone else. Someone besides Kuroo.
Invisible logarithmics that looked more like charts, graphs, arrows, and exclamation marks floated in his mind. Kenma was strategizing around this one guy and Lev’s inner commentator continued to go wild.
This was serious!
“Hey rookie, you okay?” Kuroo asked as he ruffled Lev’s hair.
“Kuroo-senpai!” Lev called suddenly, half-panicked.
“What?”
Lev blurted the first “Future-ace-level” thing that came to mind:
“Let’s… uh… practice blocking extra high today! Like—Super-high! Like Hinata-high!”
Kenma’s eyes flicked up, suspicious. “Why?”
Lev flailed. “Because! The… Tokyo skyline is inspiring?”
"..."
Kenma blinked once and went back to his phone.
Kuroo laughed, shook his head, and joined him at the net.
Lev exhaled in secret relief.
Round one: Kuroo-senpai still in the game. But Shōyō… he’s dangerous.
Lev vowed silently, I’ll keep watch, captain. For both of us.
And just like that, Ace Detective Lev was back! But he needed to gather further clues before planning a way to defend their setter and their captain’s bond.
Investigation Montage (Clues & Chaos)
The next day, by the end of the first drill, Lev had gathered evidence.
Exhibit A:
During serve receive, Kenma muttered, “Hinata would close that angle faster.” Quiet, sure. But Lev’s ace ears caught it.
Exhibit B:
Between rotations, Kenma thumbed through his phone again. Lev snuck a peek and caught a flash of orange jersey on the screen before Kenma tilted it away.
Match footage. Karasuno. Of course.
Exhibit C:
Kenma smiled—smiled!—at the replay. Lev nearly tripped over his own feet.
Kuroo-senpai fighto! Don’t let the tiny sunshine steal our setter! You raised him from kittenhood! Do something cool! Hair flip! Physics lecture! ANYTHING!
Instead, Lev decided to take on this task himself.
With all the evidence gathered with proof that Kenma’s attention and admiration was being pulled away, this called for undercover work.
Interrogation #1: Inuoka
Lev slid up beside him during water break.
“Hey, Inuoka, you notice Kenma’s been talking about Hinata a lot?”
Inuoka shrugged. “He likes studying opponents. Good for strategy.”
Lev narrowed his eyes. “Or good for stealing his heart.”
“…What?”
“Nothing.”
Interrogation #2: Yaku
Lev tried the same question and almost got a towel thrown at his face.
“Stop being weird, Lev. Kenma likes volleyball, end of story.”
Surveillance Attempt
Lev “casually” lingered behind Kenma to glimpse his screen again, only to be met with a deadpan side-eye.
“Do you mind?” Kenma asked, voice flat as a dial tone.
Lev yelped and retreated.
The Kuroo Factor
Lev’s ace-level observation skills were tingling again.
Every time Kenma dropped another Hinata this, Hinata that, Lev’s eyes darted to Kuroo, waiting for the captain to finally spring into action. Show hints of jealousy.
But Kuroo?
Kuroo just kept running drills, laughing with Yaku, tossing quick sets like he hadn’t just been issued a direct challenge by a four-foot-something ball of orange sunshine that lives all the way in Miyagi.
Lev could barely stand it.
During a water break, he pounced.
“Captain,” Lev hissed, blocking Kuroo’s path to the cooler like an overgrown cat.
Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’re about to interrogate me for a crime.”
“It is a crime,” Lev whispered urgently. “Kenma won’t stop talking about Hinata. Don’t you see what’s happening? The tiny crow is stealing our setter!”
Kuroo’s lips twitched in either amusement or disbelief, Lev couldn’t tell. “Stealing?”
“Yes!” Lev leaned in, eyes wide. “First it starts with volleyball admiration, next thing you know—bam!—Kenma defects to Karasuno, running quick attacks and eating ramen together without you!”
Kuroo rested a hip against the wall, arms folded, as calm as if Lev were describing the weather.
“You’ve really thought this through.”
“I have to! Kenma said Hinata was amazing. Amazing, Kuroo-senpai. He’s never called me amazing.”
“That’s because you call yourself amazing every five minutes,” Kuroo said dryly.
Lev sputtered. “That’s different!”
Kuroo chuckled and reached out to pat Lev’s shoulder. “Relax, Detective Lev. Kenma gets excited about good volleyball. That’s it. He still shows up here, still runs our plays, still ignores everyone equally—Sometimes that includes me.”
Lev blinked. “But… he smiled at a Karasuno replay.”
“Kenma smiles at cats on the internet. Should I be jealous of those too?”
Lev’s inner monologue roared: Yes! Be jealous of all cats!
He huffed outloud, “Fine. But if Kenma ever runs away to the crows, don’t say I didn’t warn you, Captain.”
Kuroo gave him a trademark smirk, the one that could probably outwit gravity itself.
“Noted. I’ll keep my hair on high alert.”
As Kuroo walked back to the court, Lev stayed behind, arms crossed, dramatically unconvinced.
Round Two: Captain calm. But the battle for Kenma’s attention has only begun, Lev thought, eyes narrowing in mock seriousness. I’m watching out for you, Captain.
But the worst possible realization happens the next week
As Lev sank against the bench, catching his breath, trying not to think about the bruises in his arms, he thought of Hinata. How Kenma was infatuated with Hinata’s volleyball.
And then Lev’s own eyes shifted down the court, and tracked Kenma as he was quietly analyzing every block, every serve, every…
Wait.
Lev’s heart stuttered. Does that mean… I’m watching Kenma the same way? The same way he watches Hinata?
He shoved his hands in his face. Meaning… meaning what?
He peeked between his fingers. Kenma was already on another rotation, muttering something about a quick set.
Lev’s chest tightened. Do I like Kenma’s volleyball?
Late-Night Eavesdrop
Practice finally wound down, and Lev stretched until his spine popped like bubble wrap.
“See you tomorrow!” he called, slinging his bag over his shoulder. His legs felt like wet noodles. The plan was home. Shower. Sleep. Maybe a late snack.
Halfway down the street, he patted his pocket for his headphones, empty.
“Charger,” he groaned, picturing his precious noise-canceling buds dying before morning.
He pivoted on aching heels and jogged back toward the gym, muttering about his tragic life.
The Nekoma gym lights were still on, a warm square in the dark night.
Lev slipped inside, sneakers squeaking faintly.
Voices drifted from the far court.
Kuroo spun a ball on his palm, eyes half-lidded.
“Bet you kinda wish Chibi-chan was on our side,” he said, grin audible.
Kenma didn’t look up from the court diagram on his notes.
“…Not really.”
Kenma set the notes down, thumb tapping the edge in a slow rhythm.
“He’s… too much like me. We’d only end up destroying each other.” he said finally.
Lev blinked. Destroying?
“...If Shōyō played here, we’d keep pushing each other with no break or balance.”
Kenma gave a small shrug. “He’d try to slow down for me. I’d speed up for him. We’d both end up hating it.”
Kuroo tilted his head. “But you and I push each other all the time.”
Kenma’s gaze flicked to him—brief, steady.
“You don’t push. You… match. That’s different.”
Lev’s breath hitched.
It wasn’t the usual Kenma monotone—it was thoughtful, almost… tender.
He peeked around the doorway again, and now Kenma sat cross-legged on the floor, notes forgotten beside him.
“I match, huh.” Kuroo crouched next to him, chin propped on one hand, teasingly, smirking but listening nevertheless.
Lev slapped both hands to his chest like Kenma had just handed Kuroo a diamond ring.
Kenma met Kuroo’s eyes almost like it cost effort to admit the following outloud.
“You know when to wait. When to pull me forward.” He looked away first, already reaching for the notes again. “That’s why it works, the two of us.” Kenma murmured, almost to himself.
Lev slapped both hands over his face, heat rushing to his ears.
Oh. Oh no.
THIS WASN’T JUST CAPTAIN-AND-SETTER STUFF. THIS WAS… BOYFRIEND-Y AGAIN.
Boyfriend-y with a capital-B, I knew they were close, But this? This is like… like romantic anime close!
And this was Capital-P for Proof of the unspoken KenmaxKuroo thing everyone on the team knew about but never actually saw.
He crouched behind the doorframe, heart hammering like a mis-set drum.
His cheeks burned so hot he was sure they glowed in the dark.
He pressed his forehead to the cool wall, silently combusting.
Forget headphone chargers. I need a witness protection program.
But Lev’s cover is blown
A floorboard betrayed him with a loud squeak.
Both heads turned instantly.
Kenma’s eyes blinked once, slow and unreadable.
Kuroo’s mouth curved into a knowing smirk—the exact kind that could outwit gravity and small countries.
“Well,” Kuroo drawled, “look what the cat dragged back.”
Lev froze, deer-in-headlights. “I—uh—forgot my charger!”
Kenma tilted his head, expression flat but faintly curious. “…You were spying?”
“No!” Lev yelped. “I was… strategically… eaves— I mean passing through! On accident! Completely accident!” He felt the blush crawl from his ears clear down to his collar.
Kuroo leaned one elbow on his knee, that maddening grin widening. “Strategic eavesdropping, huh? Sounds like a new defensive formation.”
Lev flailed, mortified. “I just—! You two were—! I wasn’t—!”
Kenma gave a tiny shrug, already reaching for his notes again. “It doesn’t matter.”
Which somehow made Lev panic more.
“It does matter!” he blurted. “I wasn’t spying on your—your—whatever that was!”
Kuroo chuckled low, the sound echoing off the empty gym. “Relax, Detective Ace. You look like you walked in on some state secrets.”
Lev buried his face in his hands again, muffled voice breaking through. “Maybe I did!”
Kenma’s soft, almost imperceptible sigh was the only reply.
Kuroo just kept grinning, clearly enjoying every second of Lev’s implosion.
Lev groaned into his palms.
Next time, he vowed silently, I’m leaving the headphones for dead.
Kuroo stretched to his full height and dusted off his knees.
“All right, rookie,” he said, still grinning, “where’s this life-or-death charger of yours?”
Lev pointed weakly toward the benches. “Black bag. Cat keychain. Don’t… judge the keychain.”
“Noted,” Kuroo said, strolling off, footsteps echoing across the empty gym.
The moment he was gone, the quiet hit like a serve to the chest.
Kenma stayed cross-legged on the floor, notes in his lap.
He didn’t look up. Just a soft, neutral “What?”
Lev’s palms felt sweaty. He took a giant, squeaky step closer. “Uh… hey. Kenma?”
A non-committal hum.
“So… you only watch Hinata because you like good volleyball, right?” The words tumbled out like a bad set.
Kenma finally glanced up, eyes flat and steady. “…Yeah.”
Lev swallowed. “Would you ever—uh—watch me too?”
Kenma blinked once. “…I do watch you. Usually right before you miss a block.”
Lev spluttered. “That’s not—! I mean like how you watch Hinata!”
Kenma tilted his head, face unreadable. “You want me to study your mistakes more? Sure. Free entertainment.”
Lev’s jaw dropped. “Kenma!”
A faint shrug. “What? You’re tall. Easy to spot when you mess up.”
“You’re cruel.”
Kenma’s mouth twitched, almost a smile, but more like a smirk. “You’re the one who asked.”
Before Lev could protest further, Kuroo’s voice floated back.
“Found your charger, Lev. Try not to cry about it.”
Lev snatched the cord like it was a lifeline. “I’m not crying!”
Kenma was already looking back down at his notes, totally unbothered.
“Good,” Kuroo murmured, deadpan. “Wouldn’t want to mop that up, too.”
Lev stuffed the charger into his pocket, half mortified and half thrilled. Kenma might not hand out compliments, but his insults sounded like at least he was paying attention to him too.
“Kuro, let’s pick this up tomorrow.” Kenma stated as he closed the notes of formations they’ve thought up.
“Alright.”
After gathering their things, Kuroo swung the heavy door shut and clicked the lock, keys jangling.
“Midnight stroll, gentlemen,” Kuroo said, hair catching the moonlight like it had its own beam setting.
Kenma pulled his hood up without looking, thumbs already back on his phone. “It’s barely ten.”
“Exactly. Practically morning,” Kuroo replied.
When they stepped out into the cool night, Lev lingered a step back, still replaying Kenma’s deadpan You’re tall. Easy to spot when you mess up.
Was that… almost a compliment?
Maybe?
Probably not.
But maybe.
Kuroo slowed until Lev caught up, slinging an arm over his shoulder with the casual weight of someone who always knew the right pace.
“You look like you just lost a staring contest with a vending machine,” he said.
Lev swatted at the arm, ears hot. “I’m fine!”
Kenma didn’t even glance up from his screen. “He’s thinking too loud.”
Lev nearly tripped. “I—what—hey!”
“Volume down, Lev.” It was Kenma’s tired way of saying Shut up.
Kuroo chuckled, herding them both toward the station entrance where the last train was scheduled on its way.
“Come on, you two,” he said, grinning. He reached out and ruffled Lev’s hair with one hand, then Kenma’s with the other. “Look at you—both a mess.”
Lev instinctively shoved the hand away and glanced over at Kenma.
Meanwhile a warm blush spread across Kenma’s cheeks. Neither of them said anything, but Kenma’s lips betrayed a soft, gentle smile.
Lev finally fell into step, matching their pace without even trying, secretly grinning. Round 4: has been won with Kuroo in the lead. As expected.
“Hey, Captain, don’t hog all of Kenma’s smiles! Some of us need emotional therapy too!”
Kuroo’s laughter echoed beside them, light and easy, among their little trio. But Lev pouted as he planted himself in the seat across from them.
I guess I see why Captain doesn’t mind the influence Chibi-chan has on Kenma so much.
Kuroo probably gets it. He gets to see Kenma actually smile. And not just a polite, tiny little smirk but the kind of smile that makes your chest squeeze, your brain short-circuit, and your life feel simultaneously beautiful and unfair.
And me? I’m stuck over here, scribbling frantic notes in my head like a certified investigator of tiny-cat phenomena. Every twitch, every glance, every single “Hinata this, Hinata that” is a data point! I’m conducting experiments, analyzing patterns, tracking emotional spikes—and somehow my soul keeps combusting in real time. Because my favorite tiny cat has officially been… awakened. And I may never recover.
“The coach has been talking about pairing you two up, so you can help Lev become our team’s Ace once I’m gone.” Kuroo said casually during the ride.
“Ehhh. Don’t wanna.”
Lev nearly launched out of his seat.
“WHAT?!” The word came out three octaves higher than intended, ricocheting off the train windows. “Kenmaaaa—how could you ‘don’t wanna’ me like that?!”
Heads turned.
Kenma didn’t even blink, eyes still on his phone. “Too much work.”
“Too much— I’m the future Ace!” Lev clutched the overhead strap for dramatic leverage. “The very future of Nekoma depends on this historic partnership! The world will write songs about our legendary quicks!”
“Sounds loud.”
Lev gaped. Loud? Loud?!
He could feel a tragic anime rain cloud forming over his head.
Kuroo was laughing so hard he had to wipe his eyes.
“Relax, Lev. Kenma just means you’d exhaust him. You already exhaust him.”
Lev flopped back into the seat, mortally wounded but unwilling to concede defeat.
Inside, his brain scribbled another frantic note: Kenma, immune to my destiny. Possible side effect of excessive Hinata exposure. Further observation required.
But like always, Kenma ends up falling asleep on Kuroo’s shoulder again.
Round Five: Captain wins again.