The bus rumbled to a stop as the mountain air hit them—crisp, fresh, and heavy with the scent of pine. She grabbed her bag, already hearing the familiar squabble erupt behind her.

"Turn that crap down, Lev!" Yaku snapped, glaring at the boy who was blasting some idol group’s latest single with reckless abandon.

Lev just grinned, dodging Yaku’s scowl. "It’s our hype song, Yakkun. You’re just jealous."

Kenma sat quietly nearby, fingers flying over his handheld game. He barely noticed the noise, but she caught Kuroo’s sharp smirk from across the aisle.

"Let him have his fun," Kuroo murmured. "Makes shutting up Nohebi’s captain easier later."

Her stomach tightened. Daishou Suguru. Kuroo’s long-time rival—and Nohebi Academy’s star—was here. And from past encounters, she knew his charm was as sharp as his spikes. It made her uneasy, especially since Daishou had a way of crossing lines.

The teams spilled out onto the training grounds, voices bouncing off the tall trees. Karasuno’s Hinata practically vibrated with excitement; Kageyama gave his usual intense glare; and Tsukishima just rolled his eyes like he’d seen it all before.

Nearby, Oikawa from Aoba Johsai caught sight of her. His signature grin and that sly wink made her pulse quicken, but she kept her expression neutral. This week was about volleyball, not distractions.

Then came the chill down her spine.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Nekoma.” Daishou’s voice cut through the chatter like a knife. He leaned against a tree, eyes locked on her like a predator assessing prey. “Still letting a pretty face lead your circus, huh?”

Kuroo’s jaw clenched.

"Back the fuck off, Suguru," Kuroo growled low. "Don’t talk to my manager like that."

Daishou laughed, voice dripping with mock innocence. “Relax. Just being friendly.” He took a slow step forward, his gaze razor-sharp. “Unless she’d rather I wasn’t?”

She didn’t respond. Words felt useless here. But Kuroo’s hand tightened into a fist at his side.

"Oi, Daishou. You wanna flirt, find someone who’s not part of a real team," Yamamoto barked, stepping up behind Kuroo.

Even Kenma looked up from his game, voice deadpan: “Tension level: stupid.”

Daishou held up his hands mockingly. “Fine, fine. Wouldn’t want to ruin the cat’s fur.”

From afar, Ushijima watched silently. Sakusa muttered something about unnecessary drama, and Semi already looked like he was itching for a fight.

The training camp hadn’t even properly started, and the air was already thick with rivalry, flirtation, and unspoken challenges.

She glanced at Kuroo, who was still staring daggers at Daishou. It was clear this week was going to test more than just their volleyball skills.