Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium - August.
The heat outside was oppressive, a humid blanket that stuck to the skin. But inside the massive gymnasium, the air conditioning blasted, carrying the unique scent of a major tournament: Air Salonpas, floor wax, and nerves.
Nekoma High School stepped off the bus.
They were wearing their red team tracksuits. At the front, Kuroo walked with his usual slouched swagger. Beside him, Yaku looked ready to fight anyone taller than him.
And in the center, towering over the crowd, was Ryuu Gojou.
He adjusted his sunglasses, looking around the massive dome.
"It's bright," Ryuu muttered, unimpressed. "And it smells like a hospital locker room."
"It's the scent of battle, Ryuu," Kenma muttered, not looking up from his game console. "Take off the sunglasses. You look suspicious."
"I'm a celebrity, Kenma. I have to protect my identity from the paparazzi."
"You have zero paparazzi."
The Entrance Hall.
The hallway was crowded with giants. Teams from every prefecture in Japan were gathering for the Opening Ceremony.
Purple jerseys (Shiratorizawa).
Black jerseys (Inarizaki).
White and Teal (Aoba Johsai—no, they were gone).
Yellow and Green (Itachiyama).
As Nekoma walked through, the chatter stopped.
Heads turned. Eyes locked onto the number 10 on Ryuu's bag.
"That's him."
"The Red Giant from Tokyo."
"The one who beat Sakusa."
"He looks... kind of bored."
Ryuu felt the weight of hundreds of stares. He didn't shrink. He straightened his back, letting his 190cm frame take up as much space as possible.
He took off his sunglasses, revealing piercing golden eyes that swept over the crowd.
"So many people," Ryuu whispered to Kuroo. "Do they all think they're going to win? That's statistically impossible."
"Don't start crushing dreams before we even register," Kuroo sighed.
__________________
Ryuu stopped at a water fountain to fill his bottle. As he turned to leave, he found his path blocked.
A literal wall of purple muscle stood there.
It was a man who looked less like a high school student and more like a piece of industrial machinery. Stoic face. Short, military-style hair. Absolute, overwhelming presence.
Ushijima Wakatoshi (Shiratorizawa Academy).
Beside him was a lanky redhead with eyes that looked like they belonged in a horror manga. Tendou Satori.
Ryuu paused. Ushijima was tall (189cm), but Ryuu had a slight edge in height.
"Excuse me," Ryuu said politely. "You're blocking traffic."
Ushijima didn't move. He stared at Ryuu with the intensity of a statue.
"You are Gojou Ryuu," Ushijima stated. It wasn't a question. It was a fact, like stating the sky is blue.
"I am," Ryuu leaned back, resting an arm on the fountain. "And you are the Lefty Cannon from Miyagi. Ushijima-san."
"I watched the recording of your match against Itachiyama," Ushijima said. His voice was deep, devoid of any inflection.
"Did you like it? I thought the ending was nice."
"Your form is messy," Ushijima said bluntly.
The hallway went silent. Kuroo and Kai stopped walking. Even players from other teams stopped to listen.
"Messy?" Ryuu repeated, a smile tugging at his lips.
"You waste energy on your approach," Ushijima critiqued, looking Ryuu up and down. "Your arm swing is loose. You rely on physical specs rather than a solid foundation. If you play against a polished defense, you will break."
"Wakatoshi-kun~!" Tendou chimed in, leaning around Ushijima like a haunted puppet. "You're being rude! He just beat the Weasel! Maybe being messy is his style!"
Tendou looked at Ryuu, his eyes wide. "Or maybe he's just lucky? Are you lucky, Dragon-kun?"
Ryuu looked from the stoic tank to the creepy clown.
He stepped closer to Ushijima. The air pressure between them dropped.
"Messy..." Ryuu mused.
He tapped his own chest.
"You play like a machine, Ushijima-san. Perfect form. Perfect power. Predictable."
Ryuu grinned, showing teeth.
"Machines break when you put a wrench in the gears. I'm the wrench."
Ushijima's expression didn't change. He simply nodded.
"We shall see," Ushijima said. "Shiratorizawa is in Block C. If you survive, we will meet in the Quarterfinals."
"I'll be there," Ryuu promised. "Try not to malfunction before I get to you."
Ushijima turned and marched away with military precision. Tendou waved bye-bye with squiggly fingers.
"See ya, Monster-kun!"
Ryuu watched them leave.
"He's intense," Kuroo whispered, appearing beside Ryuu. "He talks like a text-to-speech program."
"He's strong," Ryuu admitted, dropping the smile. "I could feel it. He thinks he's untouchable."
_____________________
It was boring. Incredibly boring.
Hundreds of students stood in lines while old men in suits talked about "youth" and "spirit" and "perspiration."
Ryuu yawned openly, checking his fingernails.
Somewhere in the sea of black jerseys (Inarizaki), a pair of eyes was watching him.
Miya Atsumu stood with his hands behind his head, smirking.
"That's him, huh?" Atsumu whispered to Osamu. "The big redhead yawning during the speech."
"He looks dumb," Osamu muttered.
"He looks arrogant," Atsumu corrected. "He doesn't care about the ceremony. He thinks he's above it."
Atsumu licked his lips.
"I hate guys who act cool. I really want to mess with him."
Match 1: Nekoma vs. Kiyokawa High (Oita Prefecture).
Because Nekoma was a seeded team, they played their first match later in the day.
The opponent was Kiyokawa High. A solid team known for their blocking.
Ryuu stood on the orange court. The ceiling was high. The lights were blinding. The crowd was massive.
"Nekoma, fight!"
The whistle blew.
Kiyokawa served. Yaku received.
"Kenma!"
Kenma set to the left.
"Gojou!"
The crowd leaned in. They had heard the rumors. They wanted to see the Monster of Tokyo.
Ryuu approached.
He remembered Ushijima's words. Messy.
He remembered Nekomata's training. Wrist snap.
Ryuu jumped.
The Kiyokawa block was there. Two men.
Ryuu didn't try to blast through them like he did in the prelims. He saw the block. He saw the libero digging deep.
He snapped his wrist.
CRACK.
The ball flew over the block with heavy topspin. It dove sharply, landing right in front of the libero who was braced for a deep spike.
Nekoma 1 - 0.
It was clean. It was sharp. It was efficient.
"Ooh!" The crowd gasped. "That drop!"
Ryuu landed. He looked at his hand.
"Messy, huh?" Ryuu muttered to himself. "Seems clean enough to me."
_______________
Set 1: Nekoma 25 - 12 Kiyokawa.
Set 2: Nekoma 25 - 10 Kiyokawa.
It wasn't a close game.
Ryuu dominated. But unlike the Tokyo prelims where he was wild and erratic, here he was controlled.
He dug balls (mostly). He served aces (mostly). He blocked with purpose.
He wasn't trying to show off. He was just doing his job. And his "job" was burying the other team.
When the final whistle blew, Nekoma had announced their arrival not with a scream, but with a cold statement.
Ryuu walked off the court, sweating lightly. A reporter with a microphone and a camera crew intercepted him near the exit.
"Gojou-kun! Gojou-kun! A word?"
Ryuu stopped. He looked at the camera.
"You dominated your first National match," the reporter said excitedly. "How does it feel to be on the Orange Court? Are you nervous?"
Ryuu looked around the gym. He looked at the screaming crowds, the other teams warming up, the sheer scale of the event.
He adjusted his jersey collar.
"Nervous?" Ryuu repeated.
He looked back at the camera.
"The court is orange," Ryuu said, deadpan. "My jersey is red. The colors clash. It's annoying."
The reporter blinked, confused. "Uh... anything about the match? The opponent?"
Ryuu shrugged.
"They were fine," Ryuu said, grabbing his bag. "But I heard the really scary monsters are in the other blocks. I'm just waiting for the real fight to start."
He walked away.
The reporter stood there, stunned.
In the stands, Miya Atsumu laughed so hard he fell off his seat.
"I love him!" Atsumu wiped a tear. "Samu! Did you hear that? complaining about the color scheme! Oh, I am going to enjoy crushing him."
In the Shiratorizawa viewing area, Ushijima frowned.
"He is arrogant," Ushijima noted.
"He's entertaining!" Tendou giggled. "I like him! He's spicy!"
The National Stage had begun. And Ryuu Gojou had just let everyone know that he wasn't impressed yet.