I'm only a weakling | haikyuu

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗦𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆 𝗢𝗻𝗲: 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗱

People who deny the existence of dragons are often eaten by dragons. 

From within.

𐙚🐻‍❄️ྀིྀི˖ ݁𖥔

The short break was over in an instant.

You set your water bottle down. The stray strands of hair falling over your forehead shifted slightly, as if sensing the momentum in the air.

Just as you stood up to walk onto the court, a hand landed on your shoulder.

You turned slightly—

And met Tendou's usual grinning face.

Your eyes locked for a brief second.

Then, something inside you loosened.

For once—you smiled.

"Yosh! Let's do this, Dynamite-chan!!"

Tendou's loud voice rang in your ears as the rest of the team naturally fell in beside you.

With Shiratorizawa moving as one, you all stepped onto the court for the second set.

The whistle blew, crisp and sharp.

At the same time, Nekoma's players watched as the entire Shiratorizawa lineup walked onto the court in perfect sync—before effortlessly slipping back into their positions.

And for some reason—an invisible weight settled onto Nekoma's shoulders.

For a brief moment, the brightly lit court in front of you seemed to shift—turning into an intense battlefield.

The players on both sides had different expressions, different heights—but right now, fire burned in all of them.

Across the net, Ushijima's steady gaze locked onto Kuroo's smirking face. A second later, Kuroo's half-lidded eyes suddenly snapped open, pupils shifting slightly as he glanced past Ushijima—

And landed on you.

You stood in the back row, tall, bangs falling slightly over your forehead.

"Oh~? So that's how it is?" Kuroo's voice was casual, almost lazy. Under Shiratorizawa's watchful eyes, he tilted his head down slightly, looking up at them through his lashes. His lips curled into a smile, but despite that, the pressure rolling off him was suffocating.

"Looks like you're out of options, huh?"

At first, his words didn't quite make sense. But as the second set began, piece by piece, everyone started to understand what he meant.

—Whoosh.

A volleyball shot past Ohira's face, so close it burned against his skin.

His pupils contracted.

A second later—

BAM!!

The ball hit the floor.

Yamagata, who had lunged in vain, clicked his tongue in frustration. His fist hit the ground lightly before he quickly scrambled to his feet.

As the seconds ticked by, both on and off the court, players, coaches, and spectators alike started to notice something—

Nekoma was playing differently.

The front-row audience, completely engrossed, stared blankly at the court.

They watched as Nekoma's players moved seamlessly, relay after relay, and slowly, it became obvious—

Nekoma's true strength had awakened.