The morning sunlight spilled through the half-open blinds, painting slanted golden lines across your bedroom floor. You tugged your uniform shirt into place, smoothing the wrinkles with a practiced hand while your eyes darted to the clock. Way too early for class, but exactly the right time for extra training. The scholarship didn't care if you were tired, and neither did your biggest problem Kuroo Tetsurō.
Just thinking of him made your jaw tighten. Captain of Nekoma's team, a smug smile permanently glued to his face, and somehow always one step ahead of you in the rankings. Teachers praised him, scouts whispered about him, and he wore it all like a crown. And you captain of your own team refused to let him have it that easy.
You slung your volleyball bag over your shoulder and caught your reflection in the mirror. Sharp eyes, determined set to your mouth. You weren't going to let him win. Not the scholarship. Not the season. Not anything.
By the time you reached campus, the air was already buzzing with students rushing to class. And there he was, leaning against the gym doors like he'd been waiting just to annoy you. His uniform jacket was half-buttoned, his tie loose, and his grin infuriating.
"Well, well," Kuroo drawled, pushing himself upright when he spotted you. "If it isn't my favorite rival. Early morning practice again? Trying to keep up with me?" You rolled your eyes, brushing past him with your bag clutched tight. "In your dreams, Kuroo. Some of us actually work for what we want." He fell into step beside you, voice low and teasing. "Oh, trust me, I work hard. Just not as hard as you because I don't have to."
You clenched your teeth, but the fire in your chest only burned hotter. Fine. Let him gloat now. The season hadn't even started, and you were more than ready to prove him wrong.
"Don't burn yourself out before tryouts," Kuroo added, tilting his head toward you like he was genuinely concerned but his smirk gave him away. "Wouldn't want you embarrassing yourself in front of the scouts." You stopped at the gym doors and shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass. "Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you."
For just a split second, his grin faltered, his golden eyes narrowing like you'd hit a nerve. Then it was back, quick and infuriating. "Guess we'll see who embarrasses who, huh?"
The gym doors creaked open, and the faint echo of volleyballs bouncing off polished floors filled the hall. Your teammates were already warming up inside, throwing curious glances your way as if they could feel the rivalry crackling in the air. Kuroo leaned down slightly as you moved past him, his voice a low whisper only you could hear. "Don't trip on your way to the top, Y/n."
You didn't flinch, didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing your pulse spike. Instead, you tossed your bag onto the bench and called out to your team, loud enough for him to hear: "Alright, let's show Nekoma how real champions practice." That got a reaction: your teammates straightened instantly, their energy mirroring yours. And out of the corner of your eye, you caught Kuroo watching, his smirk curling into something more thoughtful, more dangerous.
This wasn't just a season anymore. It was war.
The sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished court filled the gym as drills started up. You dove into warm-ups, every movement sharp and precise, your focus unshakable. But the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you didn't have to look to know why Kuroo hadn't left.
Sure enough, he was leaning against the bleachers, arms crossed, that trademark grin tugging at his lips as if he owned the place. He wasn't supposed to be here; Nekoma's gym was across campus. But of course, Kuroo never followed rules when he could bend them instead.
"Enjoying the show?" you called out, tossing the ball to your teammate without taking your eyes off him. "Immensely," he replied, loud enough for your entire team to hear. "Though your footwork could use some work. Don't worry, I can give you a few pointers later."
Groans and laughter rippled across the court, half your team glaring daggers at him while the other half tried not to snicker. Heat prickled up the back of your neck, but you plastered on a smile, refusing to give him the upper hand.
"Funny. I was going to suggest the same thing," you shot back, stepping into position for the next drill. "Maybe if you practiced instead of lurking around my gym, your team wouldn't choke in finals." That wiped the grin off his face for a heartbeat. A very satisfying heartbeat. But then, like always, he bounced back.
"Ouch," he drawled, hand pressed to his chest in mock injury. "Careful, Y/n, you might hurt my feelings. And then what will you do when you realize you miss me?" Your spike cracked against the floor so hard it made the ball ricochet off the wall, and your teammates whistled. You didn't even look at him when you answered, breath steady.
"I don't miss garbage, Kuroo." The gym went quiet, everyone's heads swiveling between you and him like a rally they didn't want to miss. And out of the corner of your eye, you saw him grin again sharper this time, dangerous in a way that made your stomach twist.
If he wanted war, he was going to get it. Your team lined up for a scrimmage, and you were determined to crush Nekoma before the season even officially began. You called out signals, set up formations, and kept your eyes on every movement except, of course, for Kuroo.
He drifted closer under the pretense of "observing," leaning against the wall with an exaggerated yawn. You rolled your eyes but ignored him. Big mistake.
One of your passes went just a little too wide, nothing you couldn't recover from but Kuroo was already smirking, his hand flicking a stray ball into your path at the perfect angle to make you stumble. "Oops," he said, voice dripping with feigned innocence. "Wouldn't want you to pull a muscle before the real match."
You froze for a split second before glaring at him, your mouth a thin line. "Seriously? That's your idea of 'observation'?"
"Just keeping things… interesting," he replied, shrugging like it was no big deal. And of course, the entire gym caught the exchange, snickers echoing around the court. You shook your head and gritted your teeth. Fine. Let him play games. You'd play better. Every spike, every block, every move from now on was meant to remind him exactly who he was dealing with.
And as the scrimmage went on, you couldn't help but notice Kuroo's eyes were always on you, calculating, teasing… almost impressed. Which only fueled the fire. This wasn't just about volleyball. This was about proving who deserved the scholarship, and you weren't about to let him think he already had it in the bag.
By the time practice ended, your arms ached, your legs were heavy, and sweat clung to your uniform but your victory smile was unwavering. You might be rivals, enemies even, but one thing was certain: this war was just getting started.
By the time practice ended, your arms ached, your legs were heavy, and sweat clung to your uniform but your victory smile was unwavering. You might be rivals, enemies even, but one thing was certain: this war was just getting started.
As you trudged toward the locker room, a bag slung over your shoulder, your phone buzzed. A message from the school's athletic office blinked on the screen: "Mandatory joint training camp with Nekoma Volleyball. Begins this Friday. All captains must attend. Details to follow."
You blinked at it, heart sinking. Joint training? With Kuroo? You could practically hear the smirk plastered across his face from here. Of course, he wasn't going to make it easy. The thought made your stomach twist, part irritation, part… something else you refused to name.
Friday came too quickly. By the time you arrived at the sprawling training facility, Nekoma's bus was already parked, and there he was Kuroo, leaning casually against the side, tossing a volleyball up and down like he owned the place.
"Ah, the champion of [your school] arrives," he called out, grinning wide enough to make you grit your teeth. "Hope you're ready to learn a thing or two." You stepped off your bus, rolling your shoulders. "Save your lessons for someone who actually needs them," you shot back. "I'm here to train, not to listen to your ego."
He chuckled, the sound low and teasing, and somehow even more infuriating in person. "Oh, I think we'll both learn a lot… especially when we're stuck in the same room tonight for strategy sessions." Your eyes narrowed. "Stuck in the same room?"
"Yep," he said, voice smooth, smug. "Dorms are… limited. Lucky for you, you'll have me as a roommate." Your brain tried to process this. Your stomach betrayed you with a little flutter. No. No, no, no. This was a training camp, a war zone, not some… some…
Heart racing, you reminded yourself: enemies. Only enemies.
And yet, as Kuroo's golden eyes met yours with that irritating, challenging spark, you couldn't help but think this war might just get a lot more complicated.