Our Saviour

Akiru and Kite were like the loyal shadows of Ryota, always trailing behind him. "Ryo-san, you're our hero! Thank you for the delicious treats!" they chimed in unison. Suga merely rolled his eyes, thinking, 'These two are the finest actors in the universe.' To lift their spirits, Ryota had decided to treat them to ice creams. The scene unfolded like this: Kite lamented, "Ryo-san, my legs are killing me!" Akiru quickly added, "Exactly, Ryo-san! Could you possibly help us out with a little treat?" Kite chimed in with a pleading, "Pleeaase?" With a flourish, Ryota tossed two ice creams their way. And so it went, day after day.

Akiru exclaimed, "Ryo-san, we're late again!" as the rest of the crew, minus Ryota, dashed toward the gymnasium. They skillfully sidestepped a figure about to speak and slipped into the changing room. Ryota sheepishly apologized, "Sorry, Captain. We're late once more," though his tone lacked sincerity, and he hardly felt remorseful. The captain, ever lenient, let it slide since Ryota's performance was commendable. As usual, they dove into the game. Just then, a newcomer entered the gym, prompting the captain to greet him, "Yuji-san, what brings you here?" Ryota, distracted by the arrival, lost his focus. The opposing team's spiker unleashed a powerful serve that rocketed straight toward Ryota's face. He stumbled back, momentarily immobilized by the sharp pain. Akiru and Kite dashed toward Ryota, while Suga approached at a more measured pace, both equally worried. "Ryo-san, are you alright?" Kite inquired, but before Ryota could utter a word, he was swept off his feet in a princess carry and gently placed on the bench. "What were you thinking, not paying attention to the ball? Look at the mess you've gotten into!" Ryota recognized the voice, and just like that, darkness enveloped him.

Ryota stirred awake in an unfamiliar room, his mind racing with confusion. "How long was I out?" he murmured, half-expecting Akiru to be nearby. But it was a familiar voice that broke the silence. "For two and a half hours," it said. He sat up, trying to piece together the events that led him here... Wait, what had happened? Turning towards the source of the voice, he found Yuji, engrossed in a book. "Where am I?" Ryota inquired, his tone calm yet laced with curiosity. Without lifting his gaze, Yuji replied, "At my house." "Why?" Ryota pressed, maintaining his composed demeanor. Yuji shrugged, "Well, when I asked your friends where you lived, they couldn't recall, and since they couldn't keep you at their place, I brought you here." Ryota rose to his feet and asked, "What time is it?" Yuji glanced at the clock and said, "It's half past nine." Ryota pressed his palm against his throbbing head, trying to piece together the chaos that had unfolded. "Aah! What the?" he exclaimed, the pain intensifying. Yuji, sensing his distress, promptly set his book aside and rushed to assist Ryota back onto the bed. "You need to rest. That blow was no joke," he insisted. Ryota, feeling a twinge of guilt, replied, "I don't want to be a bother. I've already caused you enough trouble." Yuji, his voice laced with irritation, retorted, "I said stay put until you're better." Ryota glanced up, noticing the genuine concern etched on Yuji's face, and thought, "He looks adorable when he's angry," a smirk playing on his lips. "Why are you smiling?" Yuji inquired, puzzled. "Oh, it's nothing," Ryota replied, his eyes fluttering shut.