Carefully lowering the raw salmon onto the frying pan, Ichika revelled in the crisp sizzling noises that bounced out as the fish made contact with the oil. Leaving that to cook for a few minutes, she shifted her attention towards the cucumbers, freshly peeled and waiting. Nekomata had mentioned in passing that he preferred his cucumbers cut as thinly as possible, so she did her best to cater towards his preferences for Sunday night's dinner.

Her grandfather was currently out, off to the local pet store to buy food for Aki. Not saying he was a glutton, but the black cat could certainly eat when it came to it.

However, just when she was about to pick up the knife, a digital ringing of their landline echoed out from the hallway. Ichika raised an eyebrow. Wiping her hands on her apron, she hurried out of the kitchen and towards the front hall just up the steps of the mudroom, where the telephone sat.

The phone blared out once more before Ichika finally reached it. Pulling the handset to her ear, she said in an even tone: "Good evening, this is the Nekomata household. Who is this?"

"H-Hello!" The voice on the opposite end was nervous, sounding like a young man in his early-to-mid-thirties. "This is Takeda Ittetsu with Karasuno High School from the Miyagi Prefecture. I believe I've mentioned I'd call you again to ask about the practice match during Golden Week."

Ichika blinked.

"Huh?"

***

"Mornin'." Kuroo waved at the sight of the blonde standing by The City Bakery.

"Good Morning..."

Kenma watched as their manager moved away from the bakery's glass windows to meet them at the crosswalk. Something seemed to be bothering her, but he didn't make any effort to mention it.

Kuroo, on the other hand, addressed it head-on as they moved to cross the street.

"Hey, something wrong?"

"Sorry, is it obvious?" Ichika cast a wry smile in the dark-haired boy's direction. "It's just... we received a strange phone call last night."

"Strange phone call?" Kuroo recited back. "Hey, Shira-chan. If they're telling you that you won some prize you never signed up for, and they need your bank information to cash-in the cheque, I really hope you didn't give it to them. Us city folks like to use those techniques to trick poor country girls like you-"

"I can tell if things are a scam, thank you very much," Ichika replied firmly. "Besides, between the two of us, I'm sure you're far more likely to be the victim of some phishing scheme."

"Oh? You sure about that?"

"Of course."

Kenma wanted to bury his head in the sand. For the past week and a half, he's done nothing but listen to these two banter over absolutely nothing yet everything at the same time as they walked to school and back again. Sure, he had his video games. But he could only set the volume so loud as they crossed roads or sat in the subway.

"But it wasn't those kinds of phone calls," Thankfully, Ichika had some self-awareness this time around. Or maybe because whatever on her mind was just irking her that much. "They asked for Coach Nekomata specifically," she reached into her bag to grab her wallet and subway pass as they strolled up to the fare scanner. "Have either of you ever heard of Karasuno High School?"

"Karasuno?" Kuroo rubbed his chin in thought. "Where is that?"

"The Miyagi Prefecture."

"It sounds familiar," he hummed, thinking on it a little more when a memory resurfaced in his mind. "Wait. Isn't that the school related to the Battle of the Garbage Dump?"

Kenma nodded. "I think so."

Ichika cocked her head to the side. It was hard to imagine that polite man from last night's phone call being involved in some brawl over a garbage dump.

"Um, excuse me," she raised her hand. "I feel like I'm missing some context here."

"Hold on," Kuroo glanced back at her as they descended the stairs to the train platforms. "Are you telling me your grandpa never talked about the Battle of the Garbage Dump? Not even once?"

Ichika shook her head.

"Seriously?" Kuroo was in disbelief. "Didn't he reminisce about the 'good ol' days,' like even during retirement?"

Ichika thought for a moment. "Well, he might have mentioned it to my mom or grandmother," she said. "But I've personally only known him for about half-a-year, so I wouldn't know."

Her response would've been a rather satisfactory answer in itself, but this time, something else entirely caught Kuroo's attention.

"Wait, half-a-year?!"

That also seemed to pique Kenma's curiosity as he looked over.

"Huh? Oh, yes," Ichika nodded, seemingly taken off guard by his immense confusion. "I first met my grandfather six months ago, when he stayed with me in Nanto."

Kuroo pressed his lips together.

About a year ago, when he was still a second-year, and Kenma first joined the club, Nekomata was already the Nekoma Volleyball team's head coach. He had just come out of retirement two years ago, much to Kuroo's younger self's delight. However, half-way through the school year, around October, Nekomata suddenly took a break from coaching and left things in the hands of Naoi. No one saw him for a while after that, and rumours eventually began to sprout regarding what happened to the old volleyball coach.

Some say he went back into retirement; perhaps he found the new team members too amateurish for his liking. Others say he might've gotten into an accident, one that left him bed-bound and thus unable to return to his job as head coach.

When Naoi was asked about Nekomata's sudden disappearance, he eventually came clean, explaining to the boys that the old coach decided to take time and mourn for his late wife, who had passed away due to natural causes.

That wasn't an easy pill to swallow.

Back when Kuroo was a first-year, Nekomata's wife, Nekomata Minori, would often pay visits to the club. She'd come bearing fresh fruit and handmade treats, helping them pass out water and towels just like a manager would. She was very different from Kuroo's wise and soft-spoken grandmother. Nekomata Minori was confident and rather hard-headed despite her age. She always said whatever was on her mind, giving loud yet practical advice to each of the boys whenever they needed it. But in his second year, after Kenma joined the club, her visits became less and less frequent. Kuroo noticed that she seemed to slim down a little more every time he saw her. Her previously glowing skin grew lifeless and dull, and her bold and strong figure slowly shrivelled and hunched.

Then one day, her visits stopped completely.

Either way, Kuroo was relieved to hear that his coach had simply decided to take time off to mourn with his family in Nanto.

"Well." Setting aside that train of thought, for now, Kuroo cleared his throat. "Karasuno's former coach apparently had a big rivalry with your grandpa, so they played against each other a lot back in the day."

"Really?"

Kuroo nodded. "They'd have some pretty intense matches. So much so, people actually gave it a nickname."

"Cats vs Crows: Battle of the Garbage Dump," Kenma said, shifting his attention back to the game. "It's kinda weird if you ask me."

"But apparently, despite the hundreds of practice matches they played, they never got to face each other in an actual tournament. After a while, their coach collapsed, and their team just wasn't as good as they were before." Kuroo peered down the darkened tunnel to see the two beaming headlights of the subway approach. "So? Why'd you ask about them?"

"Well..." As the female announcer's voice filled the train platform, Ichika tilted her head to the side. "I think they invited us to a practice match."

The train zipped by, the sound of its brakes screeching echoed the underground.

"Wait, seriously?!" Kuroo's eyes were wide.

"Their teacher advisor called our landline last night, and he's really pushing to arrange one during Golden Week."

"Didn't they ask for one last year too?" Kenma pointed out.

"Yeah, but I think Coach Nekomata just flat out said no."

"Oh. From the sounds of it, he's been bugging my grandfather for a while now," Ichika added. "He even threatened to come visit us in person."

Kuroo deadpanned as they stepped into the subway cart. "Well, isn't he a persistent guy?"

"I told grandfather about the call," Ichika said as she grabbed onto the straphanger above. "But he just said 'ok' and that 'he'll consider it.'"

"That's a shame," Kuroo hummed. "I kinda wanna try playing them. Just for old time's sake."

***

"Agh, I'm bored," Sora groaned as she stuffed the last of her snack bar-bought lunch into her mouth. "The beginning of the school year is always so boring. There are no fun school events, everyone in class is still in that weird adjusting period, and the snack bar is still trying to finish their stock from last year."

"Is that so?" Ichika picked up a piece of fish from her lunchbox - leftovers from last night's dinner. "Are you ready for today's quiz?"

"Geh!" Sora's shoulders tensed at the reminder, but she hurried to recompose herself. "I mean, yeah, of course," she cleared her throat. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Really?" Ichika mused once she swallowed the fish. "Then could you tell me what subject is the quiz in?"

Sora made a string of incomprehensible noises. "You don't know?" She finally asked.

"I know, but I'm asking if you know."

Sneaking a quick glance at the blackboard, where the student on duty had diligently written out the class schedule, Sora made a desperate deduction. "English, right? Enomoto-sensei won't know what hit her."

"Mm," Ichika hummed, picking up another piece of fish. "Sorry to break it to you, Sora. But that was a trick question," she gave the brunette a small smile. "We don't have a quiz today. The closest quiz we have is this Friday in traditional literature."

It took Sora a moment to process what just happened. "You tricked me!" She exclaimed, slamming both fists on her desk without any regard for how much attention they'd draw from their classmates. "That was so mean!"

"It wouldn't be if you had just paid attention in class."

A sharp voice suddenly cut through their conversation, followed by a looming presence that crept up just behind Sora. The brunette craned her neck backwards, coming face to face with quite the studious-looking girl. She had short, black-haired that reached just past her shoulders and an emerald green headband that held back all the wisps and flyaways. She stared down at Sora through stormy grey eyes, reflecting a sense of disappointment and annoyance Ichika had initially thought could only come from one's parents.

"Horiuchi-san," Ichika greeted the new addition with a polite nod. "Hello."

"Geh! Chieko!" Sora's face went pale.

"What do you mean 'geh?'" Chieko pulled an empty chair towards Sora's desk and set down her wrapped lunchbox.

"N-Nothing."

"Are you done with student council duties?" Ichika asked.

The raven-haired girl nodded. "We finished earlier than expected today."

Horiuchi Chieko - the class representative of Class 2-3 and the Treasurer of Nekoma High's student council. For the two past weeks Ichika has been at the school, they've only interacted one-on-one a mere handful of times despite being the occasional lunchmates. Much like her appearance, She was a focused and disciplined student, a complete contrast to Sora's unruly attitude. It was truly a mystery how the two became friends, but Ichika didn't bother questioning it.

"Chiekoooo," Sora whined. "Can't you just ask the student council to organize more events in the school year? Like we only have the cultural festival and the sports festival, it's so boring."

The short-haired girl sighed. "In case you forgot, we are here to learn. Not goof around-"

"Oh, Horiuchi!" Out of the corner of her eyes, Ichika spotted a few more figures waltz into the classroom. The person leading the group, and the one who called out to Chieko was none other than Tsuji Masumi.

According to Sora's information, Tsuji was easily one of the most popular boys in the class. And it wasn't difficult to see why. The brown-haired boy had a bright smile and friendly personality to match. Ichika herself had already received his help on multiple occasions as she attempted to engrain the school's layout into her head. As if to add to that package, he was also part of the soccer club, one of their starting players, to be exact.

"Hanasaki, Shirazome," Tsuji gave the two girls a brief nod as greeting. "Hey!"

"Hello."

"Hey," Sora leaned back in her seat. "What's up?"

"I'm just here to ask Horiuchi about our request to increase the soccer club's budget this year," he said, nudging his chin towards the raven-haired girl. "How'd it go?"

"It went through," Chieko said. "You can expect new equipment coming in about two weeks or so."

"Awesome!" That seemingly permanent smile on Tsuji's face only brightened. "Thanks, Horiuchi. The guys will be happy to hear about this."

And with that, he was off. Back to rejoin his small cluster of friends comprised of other students from Class 2-3 who were also from the soccer club.

Watching them from her seat at Sora's desk, Ichika grew curious. "Is our soccer team good?"

"They're okay," Sora shrugged. "They made it to Nationals a few years back, but soccer isn't really what our school is known for," she met her gaze. "That's the baseball club's job."

"The baseball club?" Ichika cocked her head to the side.

"Mhm," Sora rested an elbow on the backing of her chair. "Socially, they're also probably the most popular boys in school."

"But don't let that fool you," Chieko cut in as she opened her lunch box, revealing a relatively simple mix of rice, vegetable and tonkatsu. "They're also some of the smartest kids in our school. Most of their third-year members are in Class 3-5."

"Handsome with a brain," Sora murmured, resting her chin on the base of her palm. "It's like the complete package."

Ichika hummed as she reached into her lunchbox for a piece of cucumber.

Weren't Kuro0 and Yaku also in Class 3-5 too?

***

After another day of practice, Ichika made her way to the school's communal laundry room to wash up the boys' sweaty mesh vests - just another part of her managerial role in the club. Yaku used to handle this task because, according to him, apart from him and Kai, none of the other boys knew how to do their own laundry. Which, admittedly, was rather concerning in itself.

And as expected, Nekomata made no mentions of Karasuno or the possibility of a practice match during Golden Week.

Ichika couldn't help but wonder the reason why her grandfather was so reluctant to arrange a practice match with his long-time rival's team. Were they just not worth the time and effort anymore? Or was he just no longer interested? Despite being his granddaughter, Ichika had absolutely no idea what was going on in that old man's head.

Setting down the basket of vests in front of a washing machine, Ichika headed towards the wall cabinets to grab the detergent, antiseptic and softener. It was as she filed through the various sized bottles, some half-filled and some empty, when the door opened behind her, catching her off-guard.

"Oh, I'm sorry," a gentle voice spoke. "I wasn't expecting anyone to be here at this hour."

Ichika turned, spotting a girl with warm chestnut-coloured hair tied into two fluffy braids that swept over either side of her shoulders. She was petite, around the same height if not smaller than Sora, with pearly white skin that made the natural pink flush in her cheeks stand out ever more slightly.

"No, it's okay. This is a communal room after all," Ichika managed to say, slightly taken aback by the stranger's beauty.

The girl stepped forward, carrying a laundry basket similar to the one Ichika had. Setting it down on the ground, she peered into Ichika's basket, eyes immediately lighting up with glee.

"Are you a manager too?" She asked, tucking a loose strand of hair out of her face. "Which team?"

"The boys' volleyball team," Ichika replied as she lugged down a bottle of detergent from the cabinets.

"Ah, so you're the new manager I've heard so much about! Nekomata-sensei's granddaughter, right?"

"Yes, that's me," as she began loading in the laundry, Ichika shot her a curious look. "Have you heard of me?"

"I have a few classmates in the volleyball club," the stranger explained as she opened the lid to a separate laundry machine. "They've been talking non-stop about the troublesome first-years and their brand new manager," she glanced over at her. "Shirazome Ichika-chan, right?"

"Mhm," Pouring in the detergent, Ichika closed the lid and offered it to the stranger, who gave her a nod in thanks. Taking the chance, Ichika briefly peered into the girl's washing machine, finding it to be occupied by uniforms in Nekoma High's signature red and black colours. "Erm, and you are...?"

"Oh, I'm the manager of the boys' baseball team," the stranger said proudly. "By the way, my name is Hirayama Mizuki. I'm from Class 3-5."

"I see," Ichika smiled as she lowered her head. "It's nice to meet you, Hirayama-san."

"Same here," Mizuki giggled as she began to measure the appropriate amount of detergent. "So, Ichika-chan, how are you finding your time as a manager?"

Ichika slowly turned her head. "Pardon?"

"I heard from Yaku-kun this is your first time stepping into the role of a team manager," Mizuki said, reaching for the fabric softener that Ichika brought down for her. "I've been the baseball team's manager ever since I was a first-year. If you need any advice," she cast her a bright grin. "I'd be more than happy to help."

Ichika blinked. Mizuki's offer felt like someone bringing charcoal amidst a snowstorm, and for a moment, Ichika actually wondered if it was too good to be true. But after thinking about it, she gave the brown-haired girl a brief explanation of the situation. The call that reached the Nekomata residence the previous night. Nekoma and Karasuno's rivalry history. And her grandfather's apparent reluctance at the prospect of a Golden Week practice match.

"Don't you think he's afraid?" was Mizuki's immediate response.

Ichika remained silent as if urging her to continue.

"I mean, I'd definitely be afraid to see the state my old rival is in," Mizuki said. "Especially if the rumours of them going into a decline was true."

"I guess so," Ichika hummed.

Mizuki's eyes lingered on the blonde before saying: "Why not just talk to him about it?"

"What?" Ichika's eyes widened, watching as her upperclassman input the washing machine directions.

"Why don't you try talking to your grandpa?" Mizuki reiterated her question.

"It's not really my place to say anything," Ichika pointed out, speaking as if the answer was obvious. "I've only been a manager for around two weeks. I'm still not familiar with how things work in volleyball-"

"Hold on just a second," Mizuki held up a hand, interrupting the blonde mid-sentence. "What does this have to do with being a manager?"

Ichika blinked, a little confused by Mizuki's apparent absent-mindedness. "Well, it's something to do with the club, isn't it?" she gave an awkward smile.

The baseball team manager seemed a little taken aback. "Ichika-chan, you're worried about Nekomata-sensei," she said. "That has nothing to do with the club or being a manager. You're worried about him because you're family."

***

Dinner was quiet for the most part. Other than the kibble in Aki's metal bowl clicking around and the sound of chopsticks scraping against the bottom of porcelain bowls, it was a relatively quiet affair. Ichika couldn't help but wonder if it was always like this, or was her desire to say something just driving her to notice things she usually wouldn't otherwise. Because suddenly, even the sound of her own chewing was the loudest thing in existence.

"Is something on your mind?"

Ichika flinched. As expected, Nekomata was quick on the uptake.

In six short months, her grandfather had learned to get a better read on her than Ichika ever will of him. And that fact had only become even more apparent after what Mizuki said in the laundry room that afternoon.

Rubbing her thumb against the rim of her bowl, Ichika's instinctive response was to immediately deny that notion. But as her gaze flickered up to meet her grandfather's warm golden eyes, she held her tongue.

"A little..."

Nekomata's posture straightened ever-so-slightly.

"It's about that invitation from Karasuno," taking his silence as a sign to continue, Ichika elaborated.

"What about it?" Nekomata took a bite from the daikon dish.

Ichika took a moment to compose her thoughts, something her previous therapist had specifically instructed her to do if she didn't know what to say. "Grandfather, do you plan on going?"

Nekomata hummed. "Their advisor teacher is very enthusiastic about this whole practice match ordeal. In a way, it's kinda stroking my enthusiasm."

"Oh," was Ichika's only response. By the sound of it, her grandfather was already getting ready to drag the team on a trip to Miyagi next weekend. Figuring she didn't need to say anything else, she simply peered into her half-empty bowl of rice.

"What do you think?"

"Huh?"

"What do you think, Ichika?" Nekomata asked again, picking up another piece of daikon radish and stuffing it in his mouth. "Do you think we should go?"

Ichika's eyes shot up. "Can I say something?"

"Of course," Nekomata almost laughed at how genuine her response came out to be. "I want to hear your opinion on this too."

With her grip tightening around her chopsticks, Ichika pressed her lips together. She looked down at the green gingham pattern tablecloth, taking a deep breath. "I think we should go," she said.

"Okay," Nekomata mused. "Why do you think so?"

"W-Well, because it's good practice for the team," Ichika immediately reasoned. "To play against people from other prefectures. Perhaps we could run into something we've never seen before."

"And?"

"And, well, I think the boys would look forward to it too. Kuro-san mentioned how he wants to try playing against them, just for old time sake. Oh, and," another point struck her mind. "I'm sure you would look forward to it too, right, grandfather?"

Nekomata hummed.

"Kuro-san told me that you and their old coach were rivals, even back when you were still playing volleyball. Wouldn't it be exciting to see how their team is doing now?"

Reaching for another piece of daikon, Nekomata nodded. "And?"

"And...?" Ichika was lost. What other answer could her grandfather be hoping for?

"What do you want to do?"

There was that question again.

"I..." Rolling her chopsticks between her thumb, index and middle fingers, Ichika steadied herself. "I want to see them too."

Nekomata kept his eyes glued to her but said nothing.

"I want to see the team you played against when you were younger," Ichika said quietly but honestly. "I know they're not the same anymore, but I'm still curious. Mom-" She hesitated, eyes dulling slightly. "She never really talked about you or grandmother, just that you teach volleyball. And I..." She briefly met his gaze before looking away. "I want to get to know you better."

Finishing his bowl, Nekomata set his bowl down with a huff.

"I'm sorry if that sounds selfish..." Ichika murmured.

"Not at all," Nekomata leaned back in his chair. "I actually had a talk with the vice-principal about this already. We leave May 3rd."

Ichika blinked a few times. "Huh?"

"Naoi also managed to arrange a practice match with a different high school in the area," Nekomata rubbed his chin in thought, continuing to speak as if nothing was wrong. "Tsukinokizawa, I think."

"Wait! Hold on, please!" Ichika nearly lunged out of her seat.

"Hm? What's wrong?"

"You..." It was difficult to hide the disbelief in her tone. "Did you already make plans to go?"

"Of course," Nekomata grinned, the lines creasing around his eyes with great mischief. "I told you, didn't I? Takeda-kun's enthusiasm stroked mine."

"But...but!"

"I never said I wasn't gonna go," Nekomata mused as he stood up.

Ichika sunk into her seat, watching in a mild daze as the small old man began collecting the empty dishes. She heaved a sigh. As she took a moment to recompose herself, a wry smile tugged at her lips.

"It's mean to tease people, grandfather."

Nekomata gave a hearty laugh at that. "Sorry, sorry," he hummed, dropping the dishes into the sink before turning to face her. "But I'm pretty sure you do the same to your classmates, don't you?"

"Oh my, do I now?" Ichika averted her eyes. "I don't remember."

Nekomata laughed again. "But, I'm glad you finally managed to express yourself," his eyes crinkled warmly. Reaching a wrinkled hand forward, he gently patted the blonde on the head. "I'm proud of you, Ichika."

Ichika's eyes widened.

She wasn't sure if she really deserved this, especially from her grandfather. But she lowered her head nevertheless. She wanted to relish in this nostalgic warmth for just a little while longer.

"Thank you."

***

"Woah!" Inuoka gasped in amazement as he stared up at the intricate designs on the Tokyo Station ceiling.

"Pick up your jaw, Inuoka," Kuroo grinned. "You'll catch a fly."

"I can't help it! This is the first time I've ever been on a bullet train," the first-year said honestly.

"Wait, seriously?" Yamamoto leaned back with a raised eyebrow. "You've never been on one before?"

Inuoka shook his head. "Why? Have you?"

"Yeah, lots of times."

"Hasn't everyone?" Teshiro pointed out.

"I have," Shibayama nodded in agreement.

"I honestly didn't expect that from you though," Yaku readjusted his bag over his shoulder. "It'd be more believable if Ichika said she's never been on the bullet train before. Don't you travel a lot?"

"Hear that, country girl?" Kuroo snickered.

"I had to take the bullet train when I moved here, thank you very much."

"Yeah, but we usually take the bus," Inuoka explained, still unable to find a single place to awe at. "My dad likes to watch the view of the countryside as we go."

Yamamoto hummed. "Well, this'll be the first time I've ever gone to the Miyagi Prefecture though," he brought his hands behind his head. "I wonder what Karasuno's like. The only Miyagi city I've heard of is Sendai."

"Hey, you guys!" Naoi turned to look at the cluster of students dressed in Nekoma's signature red jackets. "Stay together and walk properly. We're in public."

"Yes, sir!"

On May 3rd, 2012, the Cats arrived in Miyagi.