The Golden Week training camp had come to an end, and Aoba Johsai's new lineup was beginning to take shape.
After losing to Taichi Kaedehara in the match against Nekoma, Kentarō Kyōtani had no choice but to accept his punishment. Begrudgingly, he attended practice every day without causing trouble—at least in terms of his attendance.
However, Kyōtani's fiery temperament hadn't simmered down. His brash attitude and abrasive tone continued to create friction between him and the rest of the team.
It was Monday, a designated rest day for the Aoba Johsai volleyball club.
After the gruelling training sessions over Golden Week, Coach Irihata, in his usual genial manner, declared a well-deserved day off for everyone.
But for Kyōtani, there wasn't much else to do besides volleyball. Even outside the club, his daily routine revolved solely around the sport. If there was one other thing that had a place in his life, it would probably be fried chicken.
The change in environment seemed to have influenced him; instead of his usual 'FamilyMart's Fried Chicken', he'd recently switched to 'Lawson's Fried Chicken'.
On his first rest day at Aoba Johsai, Kyōtani predictably chose volleyball. After buying a fresh pack of 'New! Fried Chicken Nuggets!' from Lawson, he made his way toward the town gymnasium where he used to hang out.
Walking along the road and chomping on fried chicken, Kyōtani suddenly stopped mid-bite and mid-step. A small cardboard box sat squarely in the middle of the path ahead.
The box looked pristine—no signs of being stomped on or soaked by rain. Its sharp edges and clean appearance made it clear that it hadn't been there long.
"Hah. Some kind of new scam?" Kyōtani muttered to himself. Despite his suspicion, he couldn't resist leaning in for a closer look.
Inside the box was a bundle of light brown fluff, smaller than a volleyball, nestled in an old towel.
Just as Kyōtani crouched down and reached out to touch it, two shiny, jet-black eyes opened within the bundle, startling him enough to pull his hand back reflexively.
The box held what appeared to be an abandoned puppy—small, frail, and without a collar. The movement must have woken it up, as it let out a soft, weak whimper, its tiny mouth opening just enough to reveal its pink tongue.
Stray dogs weren't exactly rare, so Kyōtani didn't find it particularly noteworthy. Besides, after a few days of training at Aoba Johsai, the constant nicknames from Oikawa ('Mad Dog-chan') and that first-year brat Kaedehara ('Mad Dog-senpai') were already wearing on his nerves.
Losing interest, Kyōtani stood up to leave. But just as he turned, the puppy's faint cries grew more insistent.
It was probably the scent of his fried chicken, Kyōtani reasoned. With an exaggerated sigh, he tossed one of his chicken nuggets into the box and stuffed the rest into his mouth in one go, chewing noisily.
"Don't push your luck. You're lucky I'm even giving you one piece," he muttered, crumpling the wrapper into a ball and shoving it into his pocket before briskly walking away.
It had been a while since Kyōtani last visited the town gymnasium. Seeing him again, Shimizu Nobu couldn't help but feel nostalgic. The others naturally welcomed him to join their match, chatting with him about his time at Aoba Johsai between plays.
Kyōtani responded tersely, his annoyance evident. Still, those who knew him well could sense a subtle change in him.
It was hard not to feel a pang of sentiment—after all, he was only 16. He should be spending time with peers his age.
Time always seemed to fly while playing volleyball. Before long, the sky outside darkened, and the players began packing up to leave.
Kyōtani was no exception. Aoba Johsai's rigorous training schedule left no need for him to linger here like he used to.
Even so, his chest tightened slightly when he spotted that familiar cardboard box on his way back.
"It makes sense, really. If it weren't a stray, it wouldn't be out here," Kyōtani muttered as he tried to dismiss the feeling and move on.
But the puppy, seemingly recognizing his scent, began stirring. With a surprising burst of energy, it scrambled out of the box, tumbling onto the ground. It let out a series of soft yips as it clumsily followed Kyōtani.
Kyōtani glanced back to see it wagging its stubby tail and yipping again.
"What the hell? I don't have any fried chicken left," he grumbled, quickening his pace.
Undeterred, the puppy darted after him, leaping onto his shoe with all its might.
"Ugh, I'm not playing with you," Kyōtani muttered, lifting his foot just enough to let the puppy fall back onto the ground.
Undeterred, the puppy began biting and tugging at the hem of Kyōtani's pants, rolling around gleefully.
It even stuck out its tiny pink tongue in triumph.
"Pfft—ugh, no way!" Kyōtani shook his head furiously the moment that strange thought crossed his mind, as if trying to fling it out of his brain.
He stared at the fluffy creature, a peculiar sense of irritation bubbling up within him. Don't just wag your tail and beg for food from any random person you meet. You're small, useless, and have the nerve to go after someone else's Lawson fried chicken. If you think life's always going to go your way, you're sorely mistaken.
Kyōtani wanted to say all of that to the puppy, but since they obviously didn't speak the same language, all it looked like to passersby was that he was glaring at the little dog in silence.
"Hey, what the hell are you doing playing with a dog?"
Kyōtani turned around to see Yahaba Shigeru standing a short distance away, wearing the same Aoba Johsai uniform as him. Yahaba's expression was one of clear annoyance as he stared at Kyōtani.
Since Kyōtani had joined the volleyball club, Yahaba had never gotten along with him.
It wasn't just dislike—Yahaba genuinely felt that Kyōtani's arrogance and reckless attitude were a constant source of trouble.
Being in the same grade as Kyōtani meant Yahaba had often been roped into gruelling training sessions at the insistence of their third-year seniors, who were determined to 'whip Kyōtani into shape.'
And who could forget the time Kyōtani had yelled at those same seniors during a practice match, flat-out declaring, "Your plays suck!" That wasn't just arrogance; it was downright insane.
Yet, Kyōtani's skill on the court was undeniable. Much as it grated on Yahaba, Kyōtani was by far the most talented second-year, earning his spot in practice matches despite his attitude.
While Yahaba resented Kyōtani's natural abilities, he couldn't help but hope that the hot-headed second-year might make it into the starting lineup. Their batch of second-years wasn't exactly overflowing with standout players, after all.
Someone with his talent, wasting it so recklessly. It was infuriating.
To be honest, Yahaba felt relieved when Kyōtani started skipping club activities. Practices had been a lot more peaceful without him around.
And now, just when things were finally settling down, Kyōtani had come back.
What's worse, his volleyball skills were just as sharp as ever, despite his absence.
It was enough to make Yahaba's blood boil.
Without a single word exchanged, the tension between them thickened, the air practically crackling with unspoken animosity.
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