Haikyuu: Nah, I'd Adapt!

I'd be posting 9 chapters each minute! You might have to reload it once in a while for the chapter to load up. 

Or maybe just don't read it too fast? 💀

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It was a hot spring day in Miyagi Prefecture. The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the small town, where lush green trees lined the quiet streets.

In the very center of this sleepy town stood a stadium. Despite being in town, the familiar hum of cicadas filled the air, their chorus blending with the faint rustle of leaves.

It was truly a small town.

The streets were empty, hardly a soul in sight, and even the few cars seemed to be taking a break from the heat.

Yet, a different kind of atmosphere was felt from within the stadium. The steady hum of cicadas was drowned out by a loud cheer—echoing from what seemed like every resident of the town who wasn't outside.

All of them were there, gathered in the stadium.

The sharp squeak of sneakers against the polished volleyball court floor was almost lost in the roar of the crowd that surrounded the arena below. The stadium was fairly large—not the biggest in Japan, but it was the pride of Miyagi Prefecture.

And today, it was filled to the brim with excitement.

Why would they be in their best stadium on such a hot day?

Because this game...

Karasuno vs Aoba Johsai!

...was too important to miss.

"Asahi!"

A sharp shout rang out from one side of the court, where a team in black jerseys with orange stripes was playing.

The player with long hair tied in a bun, and a small patch of beard under his chin that made him look older than his age, tensed at the call.

This was a high school game, but the intensity in his eyes said otherwise. With the number #3 printed on his back, he gritted his teeth as he watched the ball flying towards him—a powerful spike aimed directly at his position.

Their opponents, in white jerseys with turquoise stripes, had already shifted into a defensive stance despite being confident that their spike would score. Their eyes followed the ball's trajectory, waiting to see if the spike would land true.

'Damn it...'

Asahi cursed under his breath as he stepped back, trying to create enough space to make the receive. He extended his hands, bracing himself for impact. The ball slammed into his hands, causing his footing to wobble.

He felt it—the sting of the impact. The ball bent slightly, hitting the edge of his fingers, and he winced as it flew off to the side.

It wasn't a clean receive.

"Sorry, cover!"

The ball drifted towards the edge of the court, dangerously close to going out of bounds. Seeing this, a player with short, dark hair and the number #1 on his back yelled out desperately, "Suga!"

"I know...!"

Their setter, a light grey haired player with number #2 on his back run toward the ball as someone immediately create a distance to jump. His presence was felt by not just his opponents but also Suga himself as he gritted his teeth while thinking, '...Crazy bastard, you think I'd make it!?'

From the sidelines, on the team bench, their manager—a beautiful young woman with raven-black hair, a portion of it tucked neatly behind her left ear—watched intently. Her eyes were locked onto the player preparing to jump, and she clenched her delicate hand into a fist as she whispered, "Tsuna…"

"Fine! Let's do this!"

Suga yelled as he dove forward. He stretched his arms, reaching for the ball. It smacked into his palms with a light tap as he then pushed it upwards with all his strength. An awkward smile formed in his face as he braced for the pain while shouting, "Go! Crush them, you bastard!"

With a heavy thud, Suga collapsed to the floor. But no one paid him any mind.

Every gaze was fixed on the ball, spinning in mid-air.

Aoba Johsai then traced their eyes to where it was passed on as they gritted their teeth with sweat rolling through their forehead.

One player, with dark, spiked-up hair and thin eyebrows, wearing the number #4 on his back, shouted, "Get ready to defend!"

It was a high ball.

Suga had perfectly passed it to their number #9 player, Tsuna.

His light brown eyes were locked onto the ball, and beads of sweat traced down his chiseled jawline, dripping from his chin. Standing at 183 cm, his tall, athletic frame moved forward with a fluid, powerful grace.

Even the slightest shift of his body sent a wave of tension through the opposing team. But Tsuna didn't care. His messy grey hair, tousled by the heat of the match, moved with him as he leapt high into the air.

The defense was ready. Hands loomed above the net, perfectly timed and in position. Aoba Johsai had readied themselves well, given the height of the ball.

But then...

As Tsuna's right hand swung back, time seemed to slow. Even before he made contact with the ball, the defenders felt it—a chilling sensation that ran down their spines.

They could sense it clearly, even without seeing it...

"...!"

...their impending destruction!

Tap!

A soft tap echoed through the stadium as Tsuna's hand made contact with the ball. What followed was the terrifying whistle of the ball slicing through the air, shooting past Aoba Johsai's perfect defense without even a slight change in direction.

"T-that's insane..."

Asahi and Suga could only watch in stunned silence as the spike shot through the defenders like they weren't even there. The ball struck the court with a resounding thud, cutting through the air before bouncing lightly off the corner.

The entire stadium went silent for a moment, frozen in disbelief.

All eyes were on Karasuno's number #9, Tsuna, who stood there, still catching his breath. The referee's whistle snapped everyone back to reality, and the silence was shattered by the roar of the crowd.

"Whoaaa! Karasuno!"

"No way! Seijo is getting destroyed!"

"Is this actually happening?"

It was the Interhigh preliminaries, the yearly tournament that decided which high school would represent the prefecture in the summer Interhigh. And this match—Karasuno versus Aoba Johsai—was turning out to be more thrilling than anyone had expected.

Most of the crowd had come to watch Aoba Johsai play.

They were the top contenders against Shiratorizawa—a powerhouse team in the prefecture. Karasuno, on the other hand, was known as the "fallen crows," a team that had once been strong but had since faded from glory.

Many expected Aoba Johsai to crush them. But when they turned their eyes to the scoreboard…

"Aoba Johsai is really getting dominated, huh?"

It was the second set, and the score stood at 20-9 in Karasuno's favor. They had already won the first set, 25-13. It was unbelievable—completely opposite of what anyone had expected.

Aoba Johsai, the favorites, were being overwhelmed.

And it was all because of that number #9. Every eye in the stadium shifted back to the player who had captured their attention.

Tsunayoshi Matsumoto!

'That was for you…'

Tsuna thought quietly as he glanced over to the bench. Shimizu, the team's manager, was staring back at him, her eyes bright with admiration. He wanted to say it out loud, but the words got stuck in his throat.

He was too embarrassed to say that out loud.

The strange atmosphere between them didn't go unnoticed by the team. Daichi, their captain, cleared his throat awkwardly. "Ahem…"

"Well, nice shot, Tsuna!"

"You bastard! Do you have any idea how many times I've had to scramble to set that up for you?"

Suga's eyes were misty with tears, his voice trembling with frustration. It was rare to hear him curse, and everyone on the team could feel beads of sweat rolling down their foreheads.

It had clearly taken a toll on their kindhearted setter, who almost never swore.

Tanaka, wearing number #5, and Nishinoya, their libero in the number #4 jersey, exchanged stunned looks.

'To make Suga-san curse like that...'

They were at a loss for words.

"Umm... my bad, senpai…"

Tsuna said while blinking his eyes in disgust. He didn't look sorry at all.

"Sen... S-Senpai!? Hold on a second!"

Suga flinched at the word "senpai," staring at Tsuna like he'd gone mad.

Despite being a first-year, Tsuna had never been one to care about formality, and rarely called them senpai.

Suga's suspicions spilled out in a shaky voice, "Y-you... you're not planning to keep doing this, are you?"

"Ah…" Tsuna grinned, caught in the act. He chuckled and shrugged. "Of course not... senpai."

"...!"

That word sounded more like a threat than anything else. Suga's face drained of color, and with a soft thud, he collapsed to the floor. His eyes were empty, his expression blank, as if his very soul had left his body.

Suga... had ascended!

Everyone in Karasuno held their hands together, bowing their heads in a genuine prayer for their fallen setter.

"Rest in peace, Suga!" they chanted in unison.

"These motherfuckers...!"

In stark contrast to Karasuno's playful mood, frustration was boiling over on Aoba Johsai's side. Their main setter, Oikawa, a second-year wearing number #1, clenched his teeth.

His eyes blazed with determination as he glared at Tsuna, who had just made a fool of their defense.

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And now, let me introduce you to my newest main character. He's going to be different from anything I've written before.

A different personality. A different world. A different soul:

A completely different Tsuna!

Ye-yeah! I'm thrilled to bring this fresh and exciting character to life!