Flashback: Earth – Age 18 – National High Tournament Semi-Final
The gym in Tokyo thundered with the sound of stomping feet and shouted chants. Amakusa Ryuido's jersey clung to his back, drenched in sweat. The roar of the crowd echoed like waves crashing against cliffs—loud, violent, relentless. He stood on the court, staring down the Brazilian national youth team with ice in his veins and fire in his lungs.
He was the captain, the ace, the setter when needed, the heart of his team. He had carried his prefectural high school all the way to the final four. The Japanese press called him the "Silent Axis"—because while the rest of the team flailed with nerves, he remained still, focused, dangerous.
Then it happened. One moment, he was jumping to spike off a back set. The next—
SNAP.
The sound of his knee giving way cut through the arena louder than the referee's whistle.
Pain. Instant, blinding pain.
He fell, not like an athlete, but like a tower toppling without grace. No slow-motion recovery. No miracle save. Just collapse.
The doctors would later say it was a ligament tear with complications. He'd spend over a year in rehab. Japan would still edge out Brazil by two points—but without Ryuido, they were promptly eliminated in the next match.
He never made it back.
His parents burned through their savings trying to pay for his recovery. He gave up college. Got a job. Volleyball became a ghost—still there, still watching, but silent.
He never forgave the game for what it took from him.
But he never stopped missing it either.
===
April 6th, 2011 – Karasuno High Gymnasium – 4:30 PM
"YOU!"
Ryuido flinched.
Nishinoya Yū was practically vibrating with energy. Tanaka stood beside him like a backup hype man.
"We saw that serve yesterday," Tanaka grinned. "You're not getting away now."
"I told you, I'm not joining a team," Ryuido said, adjusting his bag strap. "Volleyball and I have… history."
"Too bad!" Noya grabbed his wrist. "You're in the first-year trial scrimmage whether you like it or not!"
"Guys—"
"Nope." Tanaka blocked the exit. "It's fate."
"Fate sucks."
===
Karasuno Gymnasium – 5:00 PM
The court was alive.
Sweat. Dust. Shoes squeaking against polished wood. Shouts bouncing off the walls like thunderclaps.
First-Year Team Line-Up:
Setter: Amakusa Ryuido
Wing Spikers: Tanaka Ryūnosuke, Chikara Ennoshita, Hisashi Kinoshita
Middle Blocker: Kazuhito Narita
Libero: Yū Nishinoya
Main Team Line-Up:
Setter: Kōshi Sugawara
Wing Spikers: Daichi Sawamura, Azumane Asahi, Hiroki Kurokawa (Captain)
Middle Blocker: Tamao Yukigawa
Libero: Takiya Yahaba
Coach Ukai leaned against the wall with crossed arms, eyebrows raised. "We'll do one set to 21. Let's see what the new blood can do."
[0–0]
The ball soared into the air—first serve by Sugawara.
Ryuido's eyes tracked it like a hawk. Instinct took over. He moved.
Nishinoya received cleanly, sliding across the court like a demon. The ball popped up.
Ryuido was already under it.
He didn't shout. Didn't even signal.
Just a smooth, weightless toss—perfect tempo. Tanaka leapt.
BOOM.
First point. Shock registered on the faces of the third-years.
"Wait—he can set?" Sugawara blinked.
"No, no," Tanaka landed with a grin. "He can SET."
[1–1]
Azumane answered with a brutal line shot.
Ryuido didn't flinch. He didn't praise. Just turned to Narita and murmured, "Close the cross next time. He reads soft blocks."
"Y-Yeah!"
Nishinoya snorted. "He sounds like Daichi already."
[3–2]
The match turned electric.
Every rally became a scene out of an anime.
Ennoshita dove for a dig.
Ryuido sprinted in.
"My turn."
He took the second touch—even as the ball came from the backcourt. One-foot hop set, disguised like a dump. It fooled even Sugawara.
Kinoshita smashed it into open space.
[5–3]
Now the upperclassmen were tightening up.
Daichi and Asahi combined for a brutal double block.
Yahaba, their libero, was shouting angles.
But Ryuido? He started reading them like a textbook.
"Sugawara favors back-row sets when pressured. Asahi fakes cross, then tips. Kurokawa stands too far inside when receiving—nervous wrists."
He fed Ennoshita a high, slow set.
Everyone thought it was a mistake.
Until Ennoshita tipped.
Right where Ryuido knew the gap would be.
[7–7]
Yukigawa slammed a quick attack.
Ryuido barely turned.
"Block line," he said.
Narita adjusted.
Next quick? Blocked.
"HOW?!" Yukigawa shouted.
"You tell," Ryuido muttered.
[10–9]
Tanaka was flying. Literally. Nishinoya dove like a man possessed. The gym began to feel like a cauldron of youth and fury.
Sweat dripped down Ryuido's jawline. His breathing was even. Calculated.
Then came his serve.
He tossed the ball.
Jumped.
CRACK.
The serve tore through the air like a missile, grazing the net and dropping like a brick.
An ace.
Asahi barely moved. Kurokawa cursed.
Even Daichi muttered, "That's not normal."
[14–13]
Then came the longest rally.
Back and forth. Spikes, blocks, digs, saves.
Ryuido called every shot.
"Back line! Noya, shift! Tanaka, wait for it—NOW!"
Ball to Sugawara. Set to Asahi.
Boom.
Save.
Tanaka with the kill.
Saved.
Ennoshita tipped.
Saved.
Daichi smashed.
Blocked.
The gym was no longer a gym. It was a battlefield. The first-years were bleeding pride. The main team wasn't holding back anymore.
Then, finally—
Noya saved one more.
Ryuido, mid-slide, set backward—reverse flick.
Kinoshita crushed it.
Point.
[20–20]
Set point. Everything on the line.
Coach Ukai stood now. Even Suga was biting his nails.
Ryuido walked to the backline.
Last serve.
He breathed in.
I shouldn't enjoy this.
He tossed the ball.
Jumped.
But I do.
CRACK.
Yahaba saved it.
Kurokawa slammed a return.
Noya popped it up—barely.
Ball wobbled.
Everyone looked at Ryuido.
Too far from the net. Bad angle. Off tempo.
He grinned.
"Counter-Tempo."
He leapt, mid-air correction, and spiked it himself.
Not power.
Precision.
The ball kissed the floor just inside the corner.
Silence.
Then—
Cheers.
Tanaka tackled him. Nishinoya screamed. Even Ennoshita smiled.
Ryuido stood there, arms loose, heart pounding.
He looked at the ball.
"Dammit," he whispered. "I missed this."
End of Chapter 2