Y/n stood, bag slung over one shoulder, and stepped out into the crisp mountain air. The building was everything Karasuno wasn’t—tall, pristine, severe. A few students in dark uniforms milled about the main steps, their voices low, their eyes quickly flicking toward the newcomer.

Up ahead, two figures lingered by the entrance. One towered, immovable, broad-shouldered and calm. The other, lanky with wild red hair, bounced on his heels and grinned the moment he spotted Y/n.