Being Nekoma’s volleyball team manager meant mastering the art of controlled chaos. Between coordinating practice matches, managing injuries, and making sure Lev didn’t knock over half the gym equipment again, your hands were always full—but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. Early mornings started with the soft creak of the gym doors and the chill of cool air before practice. You were already inside, clipboard tucked to your chest, sweeping the court with your gaze, noting who needed tape, who was slacking on stretches, and what drills Coach Nekomata wanted run first.

Kenma was the first one in, dragging his feet with his hoodie half-zipped and eyes glued to his game console. He muttered a quiet “morning” before flopping down near the wall. Not long after, Kuroo strolled in with that usual smirk, tossing his bag down and ruffling your hair in passing like always.

“Already working hard? You’re really too good for us.” He teased, amused.