The gymnasium loomed ahead, its familiar white facade and the sounds of sneakers squeaking and balls thumping against the floor drifting through the open doors. Practice was in full swing. The Karasuno boys' volleyball team had been at it for an hour already, and the intensity was palpable—even from outside.

Inside, the air was thick with sweat and determination. Hinata was a blur of orange, diving for balls that seemed impossible to reach. Kageyama's sets were sharp, precise, almost cruel in their accuracy. And at the net, dominating the middle like he owned the space—which, honestly, he kind of did—was Kei Tsukishima. Tall, blond, glasses perched on his nose, expression hovering somewhere between bored and mildly annoyed. The kind of guy who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, but whose blocks were so perfectly timed it was obvious he gave more of a shit than he'd ever admit.

At the edge of the bleachers, a handful of students lingered. Some were there for the view—Hinata's energy was entertaining, after all—and some were there for very specific reasons. Two of them, a guy with messy black hair and another with a lazy grin, elbowed each other when they spotted a figure walking up the path toward the gym. Unmistakable. Even from a distance. Y/n. Untouchable Y/n. The girl who'd turned down more confessions than she'd probably bothered to count.

Their gaze drifted back to the court. To the tall, lanky blocker who was currently readjusting his headphones between sets. Kei Tsukishima. Perfect candidate. Awkward, earnest in a secret way, tall, decent-looking in that sharp, angular way that some girls seemed to like. And—crucially—dumb enough to think he was above all this. Just needed a little push. A little wager.

Inside, Tsukishima caught sight of the two idiots loitering near the entrance. His eyes narrowed. Kageyama set a quick, low ball his way; he took it with practiced ease, slamming it over the net. But his focus had shifted, just slightly. Those two never showed up to practice unless they wanted something. And whatever it was, it was going to be annoying.