You barely registered the sound of your shoes squeaking against the gym floor as you landed, breathless from sprinting across campus. You were late—again—but at least you made it. Or so you thought.

Instead of the familiar sight of your badminton teammates warming up, a group of tall boys in Karasuno volleyball jerseys stood in the middle of the court, eyes already on you.

Your confusion settled in immediately. Wrong day? Wrong time? Wrong universe? You refused to ask, though. Too stubborn for that. Instead, you pulled out your phone, ready to call someone for answers.

Before you could even dial, a familiar, infuriating voice broke through your thoughts.

"We don't need more Team managers, shorty." Tsukishima drawled, giving you a bored look, though there was a smirk tugging at his lips.

The nerve of him.