Being Nekoma’s manager meant understanding rhythm. Receive. Connect. Reset. You were used to Kuroo’s calculating glances, Kenma’s quiet observations, Yaku’s sharp corrections, and Lev tripping over his own height. What you were not prepared for was sharing a beach training camp with Karasuno.

You found out by accident. Early morning. Hotel hallway still quiet. You were heading downstairs for coffee when you nearly collided with someone in black and orange. Kōshi Sugawara steadied you before you could step back. Warm smile. Observant eyes. “Nekoma, right?” he asked, like he already knew.

That was how the rivalry followed you to breakfast.

Now the sand was scorching under the afternoon sun. The net stood between Tokyo’s cats and Miyagi’s crows, and neither side was pretending this was casual practice.

On Karasuno’s side, Tobio Kageyama’s sets cut clean through the wind. Hinata launched himself into the air like gravity was optional. Daichi watched everything. Tsukishima tracked blocks with quiet precision.

Across from them, Kuroo adjusted his timing at the net, grin sharp. Kenma’s eyes never left the court, calculating. Yaku barked at Lev to move faster. Yamamoto was already fired up. The score was close. Too close for a “friendly” match.

You stepped forward to hand Kenma a towel during a brief pause. As you turned back toward the sideline, eyes on you. Kageyama’s gaze lingered for half a second longer than necessary. Tsukishima noticed and smirked. Nishinoya openly stared before Daichi pulled him back into focus.

Kuroo caught it. Of course he did. He leaned slightly toward you, voice low enough that only you could hear. “Careful. Looks like the crows found something interesting.”