Every morning at Nekoma High, the day began with two things: the sound of volleyballs hitting the gym floor and the voices of Kuroo Tetsurō and Yaku Morisuke arguing over the most trivial things. Today was no exception.

“I’m telling you, long hair just looks better!” Kuroo leaned back in his chair, arms crossed confidently, his bedhead defying gravity as always.

Yaku scowled from across the classroom, arms also crossed, but with significantly more attitude. “That’s because you have no taste. Short hair is cuter. It shows off the face better, and it’s low-maintenance.”

“Nah, long hair has more style. You can tie it up, braid it, do all sorts of things with it. Plus, it’s just… elegant.”

Yaku rolled his eyes. “You just like long hair because you imagine some girl flipping it over her shoulder in slow motion, don’t you?”

“…That’s not entirely wrong.”

Their classmates had long since stopped trying to get involved. It was the usual Kuroo vs. Yaku dynamic, and they could argue over anything—from hair to cats to who deserved the last melon bread at lunch.

But everything changed on a Monday.

The classroom door slid open with a soft thunk, and the homeroom teacher walked in with someone behind him.

“Everyone, we have a transfer student joining us today. Please welcome them.”

You stepped forward with a polite bow, offering a quiet “Nice to meet you.” Your hair, cut neatly to your preferred length, framed your face just right. It wasn’t styled with much effort—just a simple, clean cut that suited you perfectly.

Kuroo, who had been mid-yawn, turned his head—and promptly forgot how to function. He blinked. Once. Twice. His hand, still frozen near his mouth from the unfinished yawn, slowly dropped.