Haikyuu: Crimson Ascent

Chapter 3: Echoes of Routine

The jarring ring of the alarm clock pierced the stillness of early morning.

A hand was dragged out from under the blankets, blindly fumbling until it located the button to turn off the sound. He remained motionless for a few seconds, blinking up at the ceiling, cold air ruffling the tip of his nose. His room was shadowy, the pale gray light of winter filtering in through half-drawn curtains.

He didn't budge for a bit.

It would have been simple to roll over and sleep some more. The official season was done. No more morning practices. No games. No coaches screaming about hustle.

But today, they'd said they'd get together again. No drills. No stress. Just volleyball for the sake of it. Just to recall what it was like when the game was easy and laughter came easily.

He pushed his legs over the side of bed and got to his feet, wincing at the soreness that crackled across his back and calves. His body recalled yesterday's last game—and perhaps the mental baggage added to the pain as well.

He lurched into the kitchen and swung open the refrigerator, scanning the contents left. Enough for something plain.

He cracked open two eggs into a bowl, scrambled them deftly, and threw bread into the toaster. The comforting rhythm calmed the odd assortment of feelings churning quietly beneath the surface. As the eggs crackled in the pan, the aroma of breakfast wafted through the small apartment—eggs, toast, and the warm smell of freshly ground coffee.

He sat at the small dining table, the hot mug between his palms, steam curling upward slowly. On the other side of the window, the rooftops were streaked with the pale softness of morning. The city wasn't awake yet.

He didn't hurry.

It was one of the few mornings alone with no counting down clock. But even his mind wandered—toward the final whistle, the locker room, the ramen shop chuckles. To the peculiarity of it, understanding that was the last recorded game. The conclusion of something that had barely begun to become important.

"I wish I'd started sooner," he murmured to no one, eyes fixed on the coffee as if it might respond.

After washing up, he dressed in comfortable sweats and grabbed his ball and a change of clothes. He left the apartment with a soft click of the door behind him, the morning chill immediately brushing against his face.

The streets were empty—only a few early birds rushing off to work or chores. The school rose in the background, familiar and still without its normal horde of students.

He went through the side door, making his way directly to the gym. The doors creaked open slightly.

Inside, the echo of bouncing balls and sneakers on polished floors welcomed him. A few of his teammates were already there—some stretching lazily, others passing the ball between them.

"Yo, look who decided to show up!" one of them called out, tossing a volleyball his way.

He caught it with one hand, grinning without even realizing it. "Didn't think you'd start without me."

"We thought you'd sleep in after filling your belly last night."

"Hey, I didn't even get seconds! You vultures cleaned out everything."

They laughed in a light, easy way as he walked onto the court, shedding his sweatshirt. The air within was warm with movement, the chill already forgotten.

The net sprang up fast, and in no time at all, they were playing—neither actual games, merely fun rallies, team-switching, joking. Somebody placed a ball too high up, and one of them sprinted after it with an epic leap, falling flat on the floor.

"That would've been great if you didn't end up like a fish out of water."

"Shut it, I landed the emotion—that's what counted."

Laughter rang out again. They played without keeping score, without roles, without any weight. For once, volleyball felt like a game again—pure and simple.

Between points, they collapsed onto the floor, catching their breath.

"Winter break starts in two days, huh?"

"Yeah. Feels weird not having practice lined up."

"I'm not ready for all the studying though," someone groaned, flopping backward onto the court. "College entrance exams right after vacation. That's just cruel."

"Get used to it," someone else growled. "Life is going to knock us around like a one-two to the jaw."

He did not insert himself into the conversation right away, but instead stood against the wall, observing them.

Entrance exams. College. A life beyond this court.

He had considered it, naturally. The future was unspooling ahead of him, whether or not he was prepared. But standing there now, observing his teammates clown and fight over who would flunk math first—it was difficult to resist the impulse to preserve this instant in perpetuity.

In due course, they started drifting off, flipping towels over shoulders and waving dismissive goodbyes.

"You heading to the arcade later?" someone asked.

"Nah, I've got stuff to do. Maybe next time."

He stayed a little longer, picking up stray balls and turning off the gym lights.

By the time he stepped back outside, the sky had begun to shift into a deeper shade of gray. Winter clouds were rolling in.

Homebound, he made a stop at a neighborhood grocery store. The sound of familiar chime at the entrance met him, and the warmth within provided momentary relief from the chill.

He took a basket and moved slowly down the aisles—eggs, milk, instant noodles, some vegetables. He looked at a box of curry mix for longer than required, finally putting it into the basket.

The cashier rang him up with practiced ease, and he stepped back out into the light that was fading, his bag heavier than he recalled.

The streets were more crowded now—more footsteps, more activity. But his stride was still steady, unhurried.

There was still a curious pain in his chest, the shadow of a season already past. But something else too. A still joy. The kind that came from understanding that, even in endings, there was warmth to be discovered in the in-between.

He readjusted the strap of his bag and continued walking, the gentle thud of his footsteps receding behind him.

(End of the Chapter)