Defying Gravity

A/N - Im travelling due to work today im doing this on my phone.

If you find an errors please notify me.

Also power stones and reviews are appreciated!

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The two teams faced each other across the net, the faint squeak of sneakers and the rhythmic thumping of volleyballs filling the gym.

Hinata calmly scanned the setup on both sides.

"So… the King's our setter, huh?" he muttered under his breath, casting a brief glance at Kageyama.

The team composition was clear in his mind. The strategy practically laid itself out.

He turned to Tanaka, who was casually rolling his shoulders and bouncing on his toes, already itching for the match to start.

"Hey, senpai."

Tanaka glanced over, already grinning.

"What's up, shrimp?"

Hinata's eyes were steady, calculating.

"Let's handle the defense. You and I. Let Kageyama block and set."

For a split second, Tanaka blinked.

It wasn't a suggestion—it was a command. Calm, sharp, and brimming with the certainty of someone who knew what he was doing.

But instead of being offended, Tanaka smirked. He liked this confidence.

"Hah! You've got guts, kid. I like it!" he said, slapping Hinata's back with a firm pat. "Let's crush 'em!"

The two shared a grin, and in that moment, the synergy between them clicked into place.

On the opposite side, Team B's setup was straightforward—nothing fancy.

Daichi in defense, calm and reliable.

Yamaguchi as the setter, still somewhat uncertain but capable.

Tsukishima in charge of blocking and spiking, his expression perpetually bored yet condescending.

Sugawara, taking on the ref role, walked over with a coin in hand.

"Alright, let's settle this. Coin toss, who calls?"

Daichi immediately raised his hand.

"Heads."

Sugawara flipped the coin, and it twirled in the air before landing neatly in his palm.

"Heads it is." He flashed Team B a grin. "You guys serve first."

Daichi stepped forward with the ball in his hand. His eyes scanned Team A before his gaze briefly locked onto Hinata, curiosity flickering beneath his composed exterior.

He tossed the ball into the air, his form calm and steady, and executed a clean, controlled serve. The ball flew over the net with a graceful arc, heading toward Team A's side.

Daichi's intention was clear—place the ball strategically.

He aimed for a corner, hoping to catch Hinata off guard.

But the second the ball crossed the net, Hinata's eyes sharpened.

The world around him slowed.

The spinning ball, the movement of his opponents—it was all in perfect clarity.

His God Instincts skill activated, and his body moved on its own.

Daichi expected hesitation.

What he saw instead was flawless form.

Hinata glided into position, his feet light, his stance low.

The moment the ball reached him, he received it with stunning precision.

The contact was immaculate.

The ball flowed cleanly off his forearms, angling upward in a seamless arc.

It sailed toward Kageyama—not too high, not too low—perfectly positioned.

For a brief second, Kageyama's eyes widened in genuine shock.

A perfect serve receive.

The ball floated toward him as if it had read his mind.

Most of the players on the court were ignorant of what had just happened—they only saw a clean receive.

But Kageyama wasn't like most players.

He knew exactly what Hinata had done.

Daichi knew too.

The split-second tightening of his jaw gave him away.

If Nishinoya had been here, he would have been slack-jawed in awe.

Because that wasn't just a clean receive.

That was textbook perfection.

And then—

"Kageyama."

Hinata's voice cut through the stillness.

It was calm, almost cold—unshaken and utterly confident.

Their eyes locked.

For the briefest of moments, Kageyama felt compelled.

He wanted to set to Tanaka—he had already planned it.

But Hinata's eyes—steady, sharp, unyielding—overpowered his hesitation.

Almost against his own will, Kageyama's hands moved.

The ball left his fingertips in a smooth, flawless arc—perfectly set.

And immediately, he regretted it.

For just a moment, he questioned himself.

Why? Why did he set to Hinata?

What made him choose him over the more experienced Tanaka?

And then, he saw it.

As Hinata made his approach, Kageyama's regret vanished.

Hinata took a breath in.

Then he planted his feet and—

Boom.

He exploded off the ground, the power of his jump propelling him skyward.

In a blink, he was already face-to-face with Tsukishima at the net.

The middle blocker's eyes widened, disbelief flickering in his gaze.

"What the—?!"

The height was absurd.

Hinata wasn't just jumping.

He was soaring.

From the sidelines, even Sugawara involuntarily sucked in a sharp breath.

For the first time, Tsukishima's usual smug composure cracked.

The perfect form—

His back arched like a drawn bow, his entire body coiling with power.

Muscles tensed, his eyes locked onto the ball with razor-sharp focus.

And then—

Boom.

The arrow fired.

Hinata's arm swung down with ferocious precision, meeting the ball at its peak.

His fingertips curled over it, the entire motion flawless.

The impact was thunderous.

The ball shot like a cannon, cutting through the air with a vicious hiss.

It flew past Tsukishima's outstretched hands, too fast for him to even react.

The spike sailed toward Daichi, who braced himself.

But by the time he moved his arms, the ball was already behind him.

It slammed into the floor with a resounding boom, the sound reverberating throughout the gym.

The impact was so forceful that dust particles floated off the floorboards.

The ball rolled gently away, but the gym was still.

Completely silent.

The only sound was the faint echo of the spike's impact slowly dissipating.

Even Tanaka, who was usually all fire and noise, stood frozen.

Kageyama's eyes were locked on Hinata, his mouth slightly parted.

Tsukishima's expression was the most telling.

His usual cocky smirk was nowhere in sight.

Instead, he simply stared, his eyes slightly widened.

For once, he had no snarky comeback, no sarcastic quip.

The entire gym seemed to hold its breath, stunned by what they had just witnessed.

Hinata landed gracefully, his feet lightly touching the floor.

His expression was calm—serene, almost.

He turned back to face Tsukishima.

Their eyes met.

Without a word, Hinata's eyes narrowed slightly.

No smirk. No mockery.

Just calm, steady confidence.

And in Tsukishima's gut, he felt it.

A chill.

For the first time, he realized he had made a mistake.

Because the short kid wasn't just a middle schooler with delusions of grandeur.

No.

He was a monster.

And Tsukishima was going to have to deal with him.