The gym lights at Shiratorizawa were blinding, but after two years as the boys' volleyball team's primary student manager, you barely noticed them anymore. What you did notice was the heavy silence that fell over the court every time Eita Semi set a ball just a fraction too high, or the way he immediately looked toward the bench to avoid your eyes.
Breaking up with Eita before the Spring High qualifiers hadn't been on your third-year bucket list, but playing second fiddle to his pride got exhausting.
"You're staring again, Y/N-chan~," Satori Tendō crooned, leaning his chin heavily on top of your head as you updated the stat clipboard. "If you keep burning holes in Semi-semi's shirt, he's going to drop the ball during serve practice."
"Let him," you replied, flicking Tendō's forehead without looking up. "I'm tracking miss-hits, and right now he's giving me plenty of material."
A heavy hand rested gently on your shoulder, grounding you. Wakatoshi Ushijima stood beside you, holding out an empty water bottle. "Do not let him distract you. Your focus keeps our rotation efficient." His voice was flat, but the subtle nudge of his elbow against yours was pure comfort. Out of everyone at Shiratorizawa, Wakatoshi understood you best-quiet, steadfast, and completely unfazed by the chaos you carried from your family.
Being Aran Ojiro's younger sister meant you were raised on high-voltage Kansai trash talk, a trait that made the Miya twins call you at 2 AM just to argue about rice brands. Being Keiji Akaashi's cousin meant you were the only person alive who could calm down Kotaro Bokuto with a single text message. You were volleyball royalty in your own right, which made surviving a breakup in the same gym relatively light work.
Especially today, as Shiratorizawa hosted a high-stakes joint practice match.
The gym doors clattered open, and Inarizaki filed in. Right in the middle of the group walked Rintarō Suna, his crisp black-and-white jersey on, phone tucked loosely in his hand. He looked lazy, but standing at 6'3" with those razor-sharp, cat-like eyes, he made an instant impression.
"Aran-kun's little sister!" Atsumu Miya bellowed from the doorway, instantly earning a sharp slap to the back of the head from Osamu.
You ignored the twins entirely as Suna strayed away from his team and sauntered straight toward the Shiratorizawa bench. His lazy golden eyes locked onto yours. A slow, infuriatingly attractive smirk pulled at the corner of his lips as he took in your sharp posture, your effortlessly styled hair, and the fierce look in your eyes that proved you didn't take grief from anyone.
"So you're Aran's sister," Suna murmured, his voice smooth and dangerously low as he stopped right in front of you, completely ignoring Semi, who was currently white-knuckling a volleyball on the court behind you. "He talks about you constantly. Said you'd boss me around if I came over here."
"He was right," you said, crossing your arms and looking up at him. "You're supposed to be warming up on Court B, Suna. Get moving."
Suna didn't back down. Instead, he leaned down just enough so only you could hear him over the squeak of sneakers on polished wood. "I don't mind taking orders from you, Y/N. In fact... I think this practice match just got a lot more interesting."
From across the net, Eita's jaw clenched. Wakatoshi crossed his arms, evaluating the Inarizaki blocker with a narrowed eye, while Tendō practically vibrated with excitement at the drama unfolding.
Suna turned toward his court, offering you one last lingering glance over his shoulder. The storm of your past relationship with Eita was fading, but this cross-prefecture rivalry was clearly about to get personal.
