❝RED❞

PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE

MIYA ATSUMU IS an ardent, avid volleyball player. His dreams are filled with the glittering, overhead lights in the gym, the squeak of sneakers against the polished wooden floor, the sensation of jumping into the air to set a ball, and of course, the feeling of a volleyball spinning in his palm.

He is a talented and enthusiastic player. However, outside of the volleyball aspect of his job, Miya never concerned himself with the thought that he and his team was owned by someone, someone rich. And it was only when he and his fellow teammates were training for the Olympics was he made aware of this fact.

Like every other day, Miya arrived at the gym with sore muscles aching all over and a zealous grin. But when he stepped in, he was welcomed with a message from the head coach to change and warm up quickly. When finished, the odds and evens of the team would be split into two for a practice match.

Miya was surprised by this. One, their coach never told them to hurry warmups. They were the most crucial part of training, especially as they were professionals. If a player didn't thoroughly stretch, the risk of gaining an injury during practice was increased. Two, starting the day with a mock match was a very rare occurrence. They were only ordered to play matches when competitions were right around the corner.

But, frowned Miya, the Olympics were the only competitions in sight. So why today, of all days, to start with a practice match?

The setter shrugged his jacket off. Who cares? Either way, it would be fun. He sighed dreamily. Miya Atsumu couldn't imagine a life without this game.

—❝RED❞—

The echo of the volleyball slamming on to the ground resonated throughout the gym. Argentina was a tough team to beat. In the last Olympics, Japan had lost. Miya remembered the defeat with a bitter finality. This time, they would win. They would win because now they had Hinata, because they had him, Kageyama, Omi... everyone. They would win because all the monsters he ever knew were on the same team with him. The game would go at their pace. And they would control the court.

Maybe the setter's excitement got to him. Or maybe the slam of the gym doors broke his line of concentration. Because as his fingers folded beneath the touch of the ball, he set the ball a little too high for Hinata.

The short opposite hitter was barely able to push the ball to the other side of the net with the tip of his fingers. The opposing team was not expecting this, and missed the ball, earning Atsumu's team a point. However, he and everybody else knew that it was a lucky point.

"What happened there, 'Tsumu?" asked Hinata with genuine surprise. "Your sets are usually on point. You almost never mess up." Miya scratched his head. "Dunno, Shoyo. Guess my head was up in the clouds," he replied good-naturedly.

"No. It was my entrance that interrupted the game."

The vaguely familiar click-clack of heels followed the words. By the tone of the voice, Miya came to the conclusion that they were listening to a feminine speaker. Turning, his eyes widened as he and his teammates spun their heads toward the same scenic view.

A young woman was walking down the court, her steps brisk and precise. Her long, black hair, sleek and wavy, bounced along her shoulder line as she made her way to the side of mid-court.

"Gentlemen, come to the front," instructed the head coach with a wave of his hand. Peering above the heads of his peers, Miya tried for a better look at the woman.

At the front, the volleyball players stood in in three rows of straight lines, posture tall and composed. Miya's dark brown eyes flickered back and forth as silence rolled through the gym. As he took another look at the woman, he surprised himself by feeling anxious.