---
The Karasuno gym still buzzed with tension, Hinata's voice lingering like static in the air long after practice wound down.
Sweat clung to jerseys, but the fire he'd sparked hadn't cooled.
His confrontation with Tsukishima left an impression deeper than sweat-soaked floorboards.
Around the court, teammates moved—Tanaka teasing Ennoshita, gathering balls—but the silence between them carried weight.
Hinata's challenge didn't just settle on Tsukishima. It echoed in all of them.
---
Tsukishima Kei (POV)
Tsukishima leaned against the net, arms folded, glasses fogged slightly from the heat.
He wasn't looking at anyone in particular, but his brows were pinched, mouth tight. "Do you think volleyball's fun?" Hinata had asked, voice full of grit, challenge, and something that clung—fire.
What a ridiculous question. His gaze flicked to the lines on the court.
Of course it's not fun.
It's a club activity, not some grand purpose.
But the words had wormed into him. Especially that one dig—"Is that 'cause you suck at it?"
He exhaled sharply through his nose, trying to scoff it away. Cocky little shrimp. Who does he think he is?
But deep down, a pinprick of heat stung.
His hands flexed absently. Long fingers that had touched the tops of the net, denied spikes, made walls.
My blocks aren't weak. I've shut people down—Aoba Johsai, even Iwaizumi. But... timing, power, reading the hitter's eyes.
Hinata had listed them with the certainty of someone who had studied the craft. And Tsukishima had felt it—Hinata had seen through him.
And worse, Hinata was right.
He remembered those blazing orange eyes—small body, massive presence. "You'll fall in love with Volleyball." Tsukishima grimaced, the words biting harder than any insult.
Fall in love? With a game? Ridiculous.
But the truth itched at him, unbearable in its persistence.
Maybe he was the only one pretending it didn't matter.
---
Kageyama Tobio (POV)
By the water cooler, Kageyama gulped down a paper cup's worth in one go. His shirt clung to his back, soaked in sweat. He crushed the cup, tossed it, and frowned.
Hinata's words replayed, uninvited—"Everyone's got a moment they fell in love with volleyball."
He talks too much, Kageyama thought, kicking the cooler lightly. Always spouting crap. But...
His mind drifted to junior high—the first perfect set he ever made.
Ball arcing flawlessly, like it belonged in the air. The spiker had slammed it down with force, but it had been his set.
That had been the moment.
The first time he felt the game belong to him.
That was my moment.
He balled his hands into fists, knuckles pale.
Hinata's voice cut through again—"Timing, power, eyes." Kageyama couldn't deny it—those things mattered.
He read spikers too. Used their tells. And Hinata? For all his noise, he saw things too. Things Kageyama hadn't expected from someone like him.
Their quicks weren't flukes. Hinata adapted, reacted, moved like lightning. Trusted every toss.
Kageyama picked up a ball, spinning it in his hands. His expression was unreadable, but something brewed beneath—grudging, fierce, and sharp.
He's annoying. But he's not wrong.
He'd drag them forward. Even Tsukishima. Maybe even Kageyama himself.
---
Daichi Sawamura (POV)
Daichi wiped the chalkboard with slow, steady motions, the white dust clinging to his fingertips.
The echoes of Hinata's confrontation still rang in his ears.
"Do you think volleyball's fun?"
Daichi chuckled under his breath, shaking his head.
The kid's got nerve.
Calling out Tsukishima like that? Ballsy didn't even begin to cover it.
But it wasn't just the audacity—it was what Hinata said.
The way he said it.
"You suck at it." Brutal. Honest. Necessary.
He looked toward the court, where Tsukishima had stood frozen in the face of Hinata's fire.
He's tall. He has the reach.
But there's no conviction behind his blocks.
That much, Daichi had known for a while.
But hearing it so plainly laid bare—it hit differently.
Hinata's insight stuck with him.
Timing.
Power.
Reading eyes.
Not just instinct.
It was strategy, backed by experience.
And he's only a first year.
Daichi's thoughts flashed back to his own moment—third grade, diving for a stray ball, landing hard on the gravel but grinning like a maniac because he'd saved it.
That was it.
That was when I knew.
The thrill of keeping the play alive.
Of never letting it drop.
He glanced at the door where Hinata had disappeared, that fire trailing behind him like a comet.
That kid... he's not just talking big. He's waking us up.
The old Karasuno, the glory days—they weren't just distant memories anymore.
He's the spark. We've got a shot at rising again.
---
Kiyoko Shimizu (POV)
Kiyoko remained on the bench long after the others left, clipboard balanced on her knee, pen unmoving.
She stared at the court, its silence echoing with one voice.
"Do you think volleyball's fun?"
She had watched it happen, from the first step to the final word.
Tsukishima's walls cracking under that relentless heat.
Hinata didn't flinch.
He didn't hesitate.
Straight to the heart of it.
Her lips twitched slightly.
It wasn't amusement—it was awe.
Height alone isn't enough. She'd seen it in the data.
The game from Aoba Johsai, the patterns in Tsukishima's blocks.
No pressure.
No follow-through.
But Hinata? He read it all.
Timing.
Power.
Eyes.
It wasn't just physical—it was mental.
Tactical.
He saw the game from angles no one expected.
She flipped through her notes. Hinata's receives had steadied.
His spikes had evolved.
That wipe-off past Kindaichi's triple block—that wasn't luck.
It was precision.
It was confidence.
And he was still growing.
She remembered when she fell in love with the game—not from the court, but from the sidelines.
High school After her Track field career ended. Her first time managing.
She'd felt the team pulse through scorecards and cheers, connected even if she wasn't playing.
Hinata's voice had reached her, too. "You'll fall in love."
She already had. But now, she saw it in a new light.
He wasn't just a player—he was a force. He was believing for all of them.
She gripped the clipboard tighter.
He's the heart this team didn't know it needed.
---
Echoes
The gym emptied, the noise gone, but the atmosphere thrummed with something deeper. Something that hadn't been there before.
Tsukishima walked home alone, fists clenched in his pockets, Hinata's voice bouncing around his mind like a ball refusing to drop.
Kageyama stayed behind a little longer, tossing balls in the dim light, each one more precise than the last, a quiet promise in every set.
Daichi stood at the entrance, watching the court with eyes both nostalgic and burning with new fire.
And Kiyoko lingered longest of all, her clipboard full, but her mind elsewhere—on a boy with orange hair and a spark that just wouldn't go out.
Hinata hadn't just challenged Tsukishima.
He had ignited them all.
---
How's POV I know you all hate it , about the same chapter repeated and nothing new but stick with it please.
Let me know