Haikyuu: Nah, I'd Adapt!

"...Do you think they'll make it?"

Mizoguchi asked. He looked at the team returning to the court as the referee's whistle echoed through the stadium.

Irihata shook his head slowly, "It doesn't matter anymore. This isn't about winning the match. It's about proving they won't break."

Looking at the whole situation, it's completely unrealistic to expect them to suddenly grow in such a short amount of time and turn the table against Karasuno. That's why, as a coach, Irihata would rather bet on the most important part of the players so they'd grow tremendously afterward.

"...I guess that's for the best."

Mizoguchi nodded in agreement. He glanced over at Karasuno, who was also getting up from their bench.

His eyes landed on #9, and he couldn't help but admire, "That player... he's something else."

"There are all kinds of athletes," Irihata said thoughtfully, also watching Karasuno's #9. "Some train to avoid looking like fools. Some train to get better and others push themselves to win."

He paused, his gaze narrowing as he saw Karasuno #9 pause for a moment, "But then there are those rare few... the ones who train so relentlessly that victory becomes inevitable."

"They don't train for recognition or medals. They train to dominate."

Regret tugged at him as he thought about the wasted potential. It felt almost criminal to him that such talent had gone to Karasuno, a team that had been struggling for years.

What could Aoba Johsai have done with a player like that?

How far could they have gone?

"...Tsuna."

Across the court, Tsuna came to a sudden stop, turning his head at the sound of his name.

It was Shimizu.

He blinked, surprised she had called out to him, "Yeah?"

What was she going to say?

"...I can't go today," Shimizu said hesitantly.

"Oh, damn. Well, it's unfortunate but I'm sure you got things to do anyway..."

Tsuna felt a pang of disappointment, realizing she was talking about the dinner he had suggested. Still, it also reminded him that he also had things to do today too.

His goofy ass dad started a ramen shop out of nowhere and he often came to visit to help out a little. Tsuna didn't know why his dad kept on going, they'd been struggling to gain regular customers for months now. 

'His ramen was like, average at best...'

Tsuna shook his head as he turned back to the court. But then...

"...Maybe tomorrow... if we win today and make it to the next round, I might have some time then."

"...!"

Tsuna's eyes widened in surprise. It was rare for Shimizu to say yes to anything. For a moment, he stood there, stunned, but then his face broke into a broad smile.

His excitement bubbled up, and he chuckled, "Alright, deal! Don't go back on your word."

"Hey! Tsuna!" someone called from the court.

"Alright, alright..."

Tsuna shot Shimizu a quick grin before jogging back onto the court. His heart was still racing, and he couldn't help but glance over his shoulder one last time. He saw a hint of color on Shimizu's cheeks—a faint blush that made her look even more beautiful as he chuckled, "Cute..."

It didn't go unnoticed by his teammates either. As Tsuna moved to the back of the line, ball in hand, he could feel the intensity of their stares.

He took a deep breath, trying to focus back on the game.

All those eyes were on him now. With a determined nod to himself, he positioned his feet, spinning the ball in his hands.

It was his turn to serve.

And he was ready.

"Hmm...?"

As Tsuna lightly tapped the ball, he felt a shift in the air. He looked up, his gaze scanning the court, and then his face broke into a wide grin. "Oh, interesting..."

On Karasuno's side, Tanaka suddenly mumbled out loud, "...Crap, I just remembered—they're one of the top teams around."

They could feel it—the heavy pressure that seemed to be bearing down on them, radiating from Aoba Johsai's side of the court. 

Tsuna noticed the subtle shift in their formation—Aoba Johsai's libero was now positioned dead center, ready to take on whatever he threw their way.

But it wasn't just that. Tsuna's eyes locked onto a fierce gaze coming from the right back corner.

It was Oikawa.

The determination in those eyes was unmistakable. Oikawa was daring him, challenging him.

"So, you want me to send it your way, huh?" Tsuna's eyes narrowed. He grabbed the ball tightly as he casually dropped the ball before grabbing it back up as his eyes locked on Oikawa.

His grin widened even more as he answered the unspoken challenge, "Alright, bet!"

"...!"

Oikawa felt his back drenched upon that gaze that was directed at him. He knew it. It'd come to him!

The Aoba Johsai's setter lightly relaxed his stance a bit wider as his gaze lit up as they all heard the whistle echoing through the stadium.

Across the court, Karasuno #9 immediately responded by throwing the ball up in the air as he jumped along.

That height, the form, it was all perfect.

Everyone in the crowd was mesmerized by such beautiful form as Tsuna swung his right hand when the timing was ripe.

Bang!

The sound reverberated through the gym, sharp and deafening like a gunshot. The crowd gasped, and even Oikawa's breath caught as he thought, 'Bring it on, you bastar—'

"...Huh?"

His mind stumbled to process what was happening.

In Oikawa's perspective, time seemed to stop as each moment stretched into slow motion. The adrenaline coursing through his veins made everything hyper-real.

His form was perfect—the best he felt he had been throughout the game. He was ready.

Or so he thought.

"Did he not just serve it...?"

But then, confusion struck him like lightning. Oikawa's pupils dilated and shock was clearly written over his face as he mumbled, "...Why is the ball already in front of my face?"

The ball was moving toward him—not soaring, not spinning—it was just... there, inches away. He hadn't even had the time to react, and yet the ball was about to connect to his face squarely.

Although he might not be as good as their libero, with this kind of stance, Oikawa was confident he'd return the ball in some way or another but...

His form remained unchanged... and the sweat rolled through his forehead making him realize it was all real...

Sweat trickled down his temple.

"...This is... suffocating..."

Oikawa felt as if he'd been frozen as his body remained locked in such a relaxed position despite his mind getting tensed up.

Was this why their libero struggled so much to return Tsuna's serves?

Oikawa didn't know why, that Karasuno #9 would always aim for their strongest receiver throughout the game. 

The words echoed in Oikawa's mind as the tension on Aoba Johsai's side of the court thickened. No one moved. The air felt suffocating, heavy with unspoken fear.

They couldn't clearly see the ball anymore—not its speed, not its spin—but the pressure it carried was undeniable. It bore down on them like a physical force, an invisible weight crushing their resolve.

Iwaizumi felt a cold sweat trail down his back. His eyes darted to the incoming ball, its trajectory straight and unforgiving. His chest tightened as he realized where it was headed.

"Oikawa!" he shouted, panic spilling into his voice.

BAM!

The impact was deafening. The ball smashed into Oikawa's face with brutal precision, the sound reverberating across the court. His body crumpled to the floor with a resounding thud, and for a moment, the gym was silent.

"Oikawa!"

Aoba Johsai's players rushed to their captain's side, their voices filled with worry. From the bench, Irihata and Mizoguchi jumped to their feet, their faces pale as the referee blew the whistle, signaling a pause.

On the floor, Oikawa stared blankly at the ceiling. His chest rose and fell steadily, but his eyes looked distant, lost somewhere between the pain and the shock.

Iwaizumi knelt beside him, his heart racing as he assessed the situation. A red mark bloomed across Oikawa's cheek, the result of his instinct to turn his face at the last second.

It was a close call—too close.

"Oikawa, can you hear me?"

Iwaizumi asked, his voice tight. He slipped an arm under Oikawa's shoulder, helping him sit up.

Oikawa blinked slowly, his focus returning as he clutched his throbbing cheek. His lips quivered as he spoke, "…It's bad, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi asked, "What's bad?"

Oikawa's trembling gaze drifted across the court. Tsuna stood motionless behind the line, calm and composed as if none of this mattered.

That cold confidence sent a shiver through Oikawa.

"That guy…" Oikawa's voice cracked. He clenched his fists, the trembling in his hands betraying the fear he tried to suppress. "He's… a whole different level of monster."

"..."

All fell into silence upon hearing those words as they all looked at Tsuna while tightly clenching their fist in frustration as Oikawa continued, "I'm... afraid. No, scared. I'm scared I might give in and surrender..."

A prideful setter like Oikawa, saying all that was enough telling about how fearsome that monster suddenly appeared out of nowhere from Karasuno.

"However..."

Irihata furrowed his brow as he stood near the sidelines. The referee crouched beside Oikawa, asking if he needed medical attention, but the setter barely acknowledged him.

Then, Irihata's sharp gaze drifted to the Karasuno players.

They, too, were silent.

Even from this distance, Irihata could see it—the look in their eyes.

"This might have been Karasuno #9's best serve of the match," Irihata muttered to himself, crossing his arms. "But a monster of that caliber won't just drag his opponents into despair. He'll throw his own team into chaos too..."

The thought lingered, heavy and foreboding. He could see it clearly now, the ripple effect spreading through Karasuno's ranks.

'Tsuna... we all knew he was a monster...'

The rest of Karasuno's players weren't celebrating. They couldn't even think straight at the moment, they were completely shaken.

The ball hadn't just hit Oikawa but also struck something in them. And Irihata could almost hear their thoughts, even from across the court.

'But... is it okay if we're just carried like this? Are we... too much of a weight for him?'

Doubt was a dangerous thing, and Karasuno's players were sinking into it.