Haikyuu: Zero to Almighty

The Aoba Johsai Gymnasium echoed with the sounds of intense training, even as evening approached.

"It's time to pack up! The cafeteria's about to close!"

Kaname Wenda, a member of the support team, called out from the entrance.

His words were like a whistle signalling the end of a match—almost instantly, the sounds of setting and passing came to an abrupt halt.

"What? It's this late already?"

"Crap, we need to hurry! Just hearing that made me realize how hungry I am…"

The remaining players in the gym were those who had stayed back for individual practice after team drills had concluded.

It was, after all, the first day of the training camp.

Everyone was brimming with energy, and most of them had decided to make the most of it.

The senior players took charge of organizing the scattered equipment—gathering volleyballs, marker poles, net posts, and other tools. They ensured every volleyball was fully inflated and properly stored.

Meanwhile, the underclassmen were tasked with cleaning the gym floor—first sweeping, then mopping.

"Taichi! Stop slacking off on the side and move faster!"

"Kunimi, you too!"

Kunimi Akira shot a resentful glance at Taichi Kaedehara. He had been quietly sneaking some downtime on his own, but then Taichi had to join him, immediately making them an obvious target.

During practice, this guy was all energy and spirit, leaping for spikes with incredible force. But now that training was over, he suddenly deflated like a spent balloon when it came to chores.

Taichi scratched his head, equally frustrated. "Practice mode's over, man. It's like I've run out of battery. It's not like we train all day like this back home. I could've at least saved some energy to make it home."

Nearby, Tōru Oikawa was carrying an armful of volleyballs toward the storage room. Hearing Iwaizumi Hajime scolding Taichi, he couldn't help but chuckle.

Hmph, this kid. He doesn't listen to me, but when Iwaizumi speaks, he falls in line.

Wait a second. It's not just him. Mad Dog-chan is also like this, and even the Freak obeys Iwa-chan. Why does everyone only listen to Iwaizumi?

Lost in thought, Oikawa turned his head to stare at Iwaizumi, only to have one of the volleyballs slip from his grasp.

"...Ah, crap!"

The ball rolled directly into Iwaizumi's path.

"Whoa—!" Iwaizumi stepped on the rogue ball, losing his balance and falling face-first onto the floor.

Alarmed, Oikawa immediately dropped the rest of the balls and crouched beside the now-motionless Iwaizumi.

"Hey, you okay? Iwa-chan, did you hit your nose? That looked really painful…"

Hearing this, Iwaizumi's fingers twitched slightly before he growled through gritted teeth:

"You….IDIOT….OIKAWA….YOU….ABSOLUTE….MORON!!"

Iwaizumi staggered to his feet. His nose wasn't bleeding, but the tip was red and swollen.

Oikawa, while genuinely remorseful, couldn't help but stifle a laugh at the sight of Iwaizumi's face.

"I—I'm sorry! I really didn't mean to….Pfft…"

"Go to hell!!"

With a swift, perfectly executed low spin kick, Iwaizumi landed a clean hit to Oikawa's thigh.

"AAAAHHH!!"

Across the gym, Matsukawa Issei and Hanamaki Takahiro exchanged glances. Unbothered by the scene, they started rallying the remaining team members.

"Alright, everyone! Finish packing up. Let's head to the cafeteria before we miss dinner."

------

"Taichi, is that all you're eating?" Kindaichi Yutaro asked as he took a seat beside Taichi Kaedehara, balancing a tray piled high with food.

Taichi glanced down at his own plate, which held at least twice the portion of an average adult's meal. He didn't think it was "a little," but when he saw the literal mountain of rice on Kindaichi's tray, he finally understood why the question was asked.

Kyōtani Kentarō grumbled between bites of his food. "Any cafeteria without fried chicken isn't a good cafeteria."

Seriously, how much does this guy love fried chicken? Taichi wondered, eyeing Kyōtani's golden hair. Could it be that all the fried chicken he eats somehow turned his hair golden?

"Huh?" Kyōtani suddenly noticed Taichi staring at him and immediately glared back, his expression ferocious as always.

Taichi smiled awkwardly but said nothing.

------

The team returned to the Aoba Johsai dorms after dinner. Once everyone had unpacked and tidied up their rooms, the day was nearly over.

By the time they finished eating, showering, and winding down, it was already 9 p.m. Some players, exhausted from the day's rigorous training, were already snoring. Others, however, found it hard to sleep in the unfamiliar environment.

"Yahaba, pass me that volleyball magazine," Hanamaki Takahiro called out lazily.

"Huh? Hanamaki-senpai, that's the February issue," Yahaba replied, handing it over.

"I'm not gonna read it. I need it to kill a mosquito."

"What?! There's a mosquito? Ugh, that's so annoying."

"You're kidding me. I get bitten so easily…" Matsukawa Issei groaned, joining the conversation.

"Are you blood type O?" someone asked.

"Why would that matter?"

"I think I read somewhere that mosquitos prefer O-type blood…"

"Nope." The brief dialogue came to an abrupt pause.

"…Man, I'm so sleepy," someone muttered.

"Then just sleep," another replied.

"Not sure I'll even wake up on time tomorrow…"

After a full day of exhausting volleyball practice, both their bodies and minds were drained, leaving their conversations fragmented and nonsensical.

From tomorrow, training would start earlier at 7 a.m., kicking off with an hour-long run. After breakfast, they'd stretch and loosen up before diving into relentless passing and spiking drills at 8 a.m.

Afternoons would feature simplified scrimmages—3-on-3 and 6-on-6 matches.

Including breaks for meals and rest, the team would spend roughly eight hours of the day in training.

Still, players like Oikawa Toru, Iwaizumi Hajime, Matsukawa Issei, and Kindaichi Yutaro—physical powerhouses—would often squeeze in additional individual practice during breaks or stay behind for an extra hour after team drills ended.

But even their dedication paled in comparison to that of the team's relentless little monster—Taichi Kaedehara.

The kid hardly ever seemed to need a break, constantly bouncing a volleyball during downtime. Even the coach occasionally glanced nervously in Taichi's direction, unsure if his boundless energy was normal or concerning.

Lying silently on his bed, Taichi listened to the disjointed conversations around him, finding it hard to fall asleep. After some thought, he decided not to waste any more time tossing and turning.

Anything, even stargazing, would be better than this.

As he wandered through the quiet dormitory hallway, he noticed a faint glow emanating from a half-open door at the far end.

No way, he thought. This isn't some creepy horror story, right?

Despite his doubts, Taichi found his feet unconsciously moving toward the light. The hallway felt unusually long and silent, amplifying his hesitation. He took a deep breath, quickened his pace, and shoved the door open.

"AHHHHH!"

Wrapped in a blanket, Oikawa Toru let out a startled scream, clutching a remote control in his hand.

"AHHHHH!" Taichi screamed back, equally startled by Oikawa's outburst.

"Shut up and go to sleep already!" a voice roared from somewhere down the hall—it was unmistakably Iwaizumi Hajime.

Inside the room, however, Taichi was met with an unexpectedly mundane scene.

Instead of some eerie or mysterious sight, Oikawa was seated cross-legged on the floor, watching recordings of their recent practice matches on a small TV. A few volleyball strategy books lay scattered nearby, suggesting he had been deeply focused on something before Taichi barged in.

Oikawa glanced up at Taichi and smiled. "I'm reviewing some tactics from today's practice. I think there's still room for improvement."

Taichi observed Oikawa quietly, sensing something unfamiliar about him at that moment. Then, it hit him—a realization.

Though Oikawa could be arrogant and insufferable, his dedication and passion for volleyball were second to none!

"We'll make it to Nationals," Taichi declared firmly, staring straight at Oikawa.

The words weren't just meant for his captain—they were a reminder to himself as well.

Oikawa's smile widened. "Of course. I believe in you, ace!"

_________

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