---
The evening air was crisp as Hinata pedaled through the quiet streets of Miyagi, headlights from passing cars flickering across his path.
The warmth from the diner still lingered in his chest—Daichi-senpai's treat, the team's laughter, Kageyama's rare smile.
But now, with the moon overhead and the wind rushing past, it was just him, his bike, and the quiet thrum of anticipation buzzing in his veins.
He reached home, hopped off, and pushed open the creaky front door.
"I'm home!" he called, voice echoing through the house as he kicked off his shoes.
From the kitchen, the comforting aroma of miso soup met him, and right on cue, a whirlwind of orange hair came flying around the corner.
"Shoyo! You're so late!" Natsu pounced, eyes gleaming. "How was practice? Did you spike stuff? Tell me!"
Before he could answer, their mom peeked out, wiping her hands on a towel, the corners of her eyes crinkled with a smile.
"Dinner's almost ready," she said. "How was your day, Shoyo?"
Hinata dropped his bag and flopped into a chair, arms stretched over the backrest.
"It was awesome," he said with a grin. "We had a practice match—won both sets! Then there is Takeda-sensei showed up and told us we've got a match against Aoba Johsai next week."
Natsu gasped, her mouth hanging open.
"Aoba Johsai? Are they super strong? Did you fly over the net?"
Hinata tried to play it cool, leaning back like it was no big deal. "Yeah, I pulled off a few plays called quick attacks with Kageyama. Super fast. Daichi-senpai even treated us to dinner afterward."
He paused, eyes flicking toward his mom. "I told them about the Little Giant… about why I joined Karasuno."
His mother placed a steaming bowl of soup in front of him, the familiar smell grounding him.
"You're doing great, Shoyo. I'm proud of how hard you've been working."
Natsu, meanwhile, had already stolen a piece of tofu from his bowl and was munching like a gremlin.
"Did you beat up that tall jerk yet?" she asked, lips curving into a mischievous grin.
"Tsukishima?" Hinata laughed, flicking her on the forehead. "Nah, he's just loud. I'm good."
They ate together—Natsu badgering him for more stories, their mom chuckling quietly as she listened. Talk of quick sets, Tanaka's roars, Kageyama's laser tosses filled the small dining room with energy although they don't understand volleyball stuff fully.
By the time he crawled into bed, the week ahead buzzed in his head like electricity, his dreams full of soaring jumps and thunderous spikes.
---
Practice became his world in the days that followed. Hinata lived and breathed the gym, the hardwood echoing beneath his sneakers as they ran drill after drill.
The main lineup had begun to take shape—Kageyama at setter, with him, Ennoshita, and Daichi as wing spikers and defence. Tsukishima and Tanaka anchored the middle, a wall of height and strength.
He made a choice early on—keep his jump serve and float serve a secret for now. Let them see that surprise in the real match.
But even his standard serves had bite. Sharp and targeted, they exploited every weakness—Tsukishima's stiff turns, Yamaguchi's hesitant positioning.
During one drill, his serve landed just past Tsukishima's fingers, scoring clean.
"Nice placement," Daichi called out with a nod of approval.
Hinata beamed, hiding the pride bubbling in his chest.
Quick attacks grew deadlier with every repetition. Kageyama's sets, once a touch too fast or a hair too high, now locked perfectly with his timing. They moved like gears—fluid, precise. Ball, jump, spike—bam. Again. And again.
"Again!" Kageyama barked.
"Bring it!" Hinata shouted, already sprinting into position.
Every spike crashed through the court like a thunderclap, Tsukishima's attempts to block them coming a fraction too late.
"You two are freaks!" Tanaka yelled, howling with laughter.
From the sidelines, Sugawara leaned against the wall, grinning. "That's terrifying," he muttered, clearly impressed.
After one grueling set, Hinata leaned against the net, panting, sweat dripping down his chin. A towel brushed his shoulder.
"You're relentless," Kiyoko said quietly, handing it to him.
He blinked, then smiled, accepting it. "Gotta be. Aoba Johsai's no joke—I wanna be ready."
She gave a small nod, the corner of her mouth curling up. Her approval wasn't loud, but it hit deeper than most.
Even Kageyama, awkward as ever, offered a crumb of encouragement one day. Tossing a ball casually in his hands, he said, "Your timing's better. Don't mess it up when it counts."
Hinata chuckled. "Won't. You set, I hit—every ball deal?"
The other boy snorted, but didn't disagree.
Tsukishima, of course, never missed a chance to needle him.
"Try not to trip over your own feet, shortie."
Hinata shrugged, unfazed. "Thanks for the tip beanpole."
That nonchalant answer seemed to irritate Tsukishima even more.
Yamaguchi piped up during a water break, voice quiet. "You're really good, Hinata."
"Thanks, Yamaguchi!" Hinata grinned, giving him a thumbs-up.
Day by day, the team melded. Offense, defense, communication—it all began to click. Kageyama, Tsukishima, and Hinata dominated the front with sheer vertical power, while Daichi, Ennoshita, and Tanaka locked down the back with coordinated blocks and fast digs.
By week's end, they weren't just a team—they were a weapon, forged in sweat and repetition.
---
Match day dawned with pale gold skies and a chill in the wind.
Hinata was up before his alarm, already dressed, bag packed the night before.
He biked to school fast, heart pounding, the world still quiet save for the sound of his tires slicing through the air.
The team had gathered outside the gym, the bus idling by the curb. The air buzzed with excitement—Tanaka shouting encouragement to everyone who passed, Sugawara giving quiet reminders, Tsukishima grumbling but present.
Daichi stood at the front, clipboard in hand. "Let's load up!"
Hinata climbed aboard with the others, head still full of Oikawa's name and that familiar pressure—the chance to prove himself not just to Aoba Johsai, but to the world.
He slid into a seat near the middle, staring out the window as the bus rocked forward.
"You ready for this?"
He blinked, startled, and turned to see Kiyoko sitting beside him, clipboard resting on her lap.
"Oh—Shimizu-senpai! Uh, yeah, totally!" He scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. "Didn't see you there. Kinda zoned out…"
"It's a big match," she said softly, eyes focused ahead. "You've been working hard—I've seen it."
"Thanks," he murmured, eyes dropping for a moment. Then he looked up again, fire rekindling. "I just wanna show them what Karasuno's really made of. Not just me—Kageyama's sets, Tanaka's spikes, Daichi's defense… all of it. I want them to see us."
She turned to him, a rare softness in her gaze. "They will. And I'll be watching."
Hinata's smile returned, wide and warm. "Then I'll fly higher than ever."
The bus rumbled along the road, the team falling into a quiet rhythm—nervous energy, small jokes, last-minute pep talks.
Outside, the sun climbed slowly, light spreading across the landscape like a promise.
Inside, Hinata leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, breathing steady. The court awaited. And this time, he wasn't just chasing the Little Giant's shadow.
He was becoming something more.
---
To be continued…
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