The quiet of the woods was once again broken the sound of a phone going off. This was no single chime of a message, but an incessant ringing, deafening in the otherwise quiet night. The cracked screen lighting up as 'Home' flashed across it. It rang and rang and rang, and then fell silent.

Tanaka groaned as he leant back in his chair, rubbing his stomach. He'd eaten far too much, but after the day they'd had he'd been starving, and Saeko still excitedly babbling about their matches and victory had kept piling the food up in front of him.

"Ryuu…"

"No more," he pleaded, realising that she was halfway to putting more rice in his bowl, grinning as she pouted at him. "Unless you want me rolling onto the court tomorrow." There was a pause as his sister considered his words, and then she was yanking the bowl away with a shriek, and he couldn't help it, tilting his head back and roaring with laughter. The pressure of the day, the long sets against Aoba Johsei and the fear of failing again, all fading away.

We won.

He didn't complain when she herded him off to bed shortly afterwards, both knowing that he was too wired to sleep just yet, but she surprised him by resting a hand on his shoulder just before he left the room, making him turn to look at her. "Good luck for tomorrow."

"Thanks."

"And make sure you win," she added a moment later, and he rolled his eyes even as he saluted before escaping before she could say anything else.

In the safety of his own room, he leant against the door. As if it is that easy, he thought, grin dimming a little as he glanced at the file he'd dumped on the desk. A chiming caught his attention, and he dove for his phone as it flashed, Nishinoya's name flashing across the screen.

Are you ready for tomorrow?

Was he? If he was honest, he still wasn't sure that it had sunk in. They'd seen the posters declaring their place in the final, had watched it on TV and spent ages going over the files that Yachi and Kiyoko had collected for them, and it still didn't feel real. Finals. They were going to the finals, something that had seemed too distant before, so unattainable was now not only within their reach, but happening. He took a breath, before punching in his reply, the grin creeping back onto his face as he sent the message.

No. But when has that stopped us?

Hinata's mother frowned as the call rang out without being picked up, and glanced out the window again in the hopes of seeing him rounding the corner on his bike, but there was nothing. She hadn't thought much of it when he was a little bit late, because she knew that he would have stayed behind to practice even if they were supposed to be resting for the match. He had always been like that, pushing that little bit further. It had driven her up the wall when he was little and just finding his feet because it seemed as though he was determined to fly away from them before he was ready, but now that had become his strength.

However, as the minutes had ticked by she had started to grow a little worried. It was getting late, and it was dark out and even though he knew the route back like the back of his hand, she still worried about him. And Natsu had been nagging her, wanting to see her brother before she went to sleep, excited about his matches even if she didn't fully understand how important they were to him, or what tomorrow was going to mean. She could hear her daughter grumbling in the other room, already dressed for bed, but stubbornly fighting her father's attempts to get her to her bedroom. 'I want to see nii-chan!" and her frown deepened as she redialed his number, pressing the phone against her ear with a little more urgency this time.

Pick up, Shouyou…

Suga paused as he realised that he'd written the wrong answer for the third time in a row, staring at the sheet for a long moment before slowly closing his book. Being a Third Year meant being responsible, especially when they'd been reminded that they had to start looking to the future, and that meant doing homework even when all he wanted to do was go over the plans for tomorrow or sleep. Especially, as they were supposed to set a good example for the younger ones, but just for tonight he couldn't do it, still vibrating from the fact that they had actually won, and with a sigh, he set it aside and leaned back in his chair.

We won. He wondered whether it had fully sunk in for any of the team yet, possibly the first years he mused, thinking about their words and reactions during the meeting. He knew that it hadn't sunk in for him just yet and considering the way Asahi had kept pausing in the middle of reading the file or speaking, he doubted the Ace had fully accepted it yet either. Daichi was harder to read because he was focused on keeping everyone and everything grounded, but then Suga remembered how the Captain had reacted to the fact that everyone had remained behind to congratulate them at school and smiled.

Maybe it will have sunk in by morning.

His smile faded as he glanced down at his hands. Today had been hard, but tomorrow was going to be harder still, and he needed to make sure that he still had a place on the court.

That he would still get to fight.

The phone rang again in the quiet night, ringing and ringing until it rang itself out.

Then it rang again, on and on until it fell silent.

There was a pause between the fourth and fifth time, brief but it felt like a lifetime against the quiet night, the world waiting with bated breath as it rang and rang and rang… bloodied fingers twitching against the leaves just as it rang off this time, a low moan of agony breaking the silence that followed,.

No. But when has that stopped us?

Nishinoya grinned at Ryuu's reply, before rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. When has that stopped us? For a moment he remembered the storage cupboard, the anger that had bubbled up and the despair, the deafening sound of the broom snapping. But that was behind them. Today had more than proved that and tomorrow…

He licked his lips. He knew that it was going to be an easy fight, that his usual best wasn't going to cut him, and he was excited. It was something new. Something difficult. But, when had that stopped them? That was what the training camps had been from start to finish, the long weeks of training, and learning new things. Tomorrow was just another step.

It just happened to be a hundred times more important and more difficult.

"Bring it on," he muttered, before rolling over again and reaching for his phone. It was time to make sure that their weak-willed Ace didn't start panicking about what was coming.

Worry was a strange thing. It could go from that needling thought at the back of your mind, to a raging storm that clouded your thoughts in the space of a second. She had been concerned at the start, and a little irritated that Shouyou hadn't let her know that he was going to be this late, and then wasn't answering his phone.

After the second try, the irritation had receded.

The third and fourth calls, saw her pacing back and forth across the kitchen floor and calling for her husband, as the needling worry began to blossom into more. Answer the phone. Answer the phone, she willed her wayward son… but no, it rang out again and again, and she had never hated the sound of ringing as much as she did right then.

The fifth time saw her worry shifting into panic as it rang out once more without an answer.

"Why not?"

Tsukishima scowled at the wheedling tone, wondering what on earth had possessed him not to escape to his room after his brother's far too excited arrival. He should have known that Akiteru would want to talk about the fact that Karasuno had made it to finals, but somehow he hadn't expected his brother to inform him that he wanted to come and watch. He would never have asked and remembering how Akiteru had looked in the crowd that day, unable to do anything but watch and cheer them on from the outside, he would have thought that it was the last thing his brother would want to do.

"Because I said so…" He muttered, but that wasn't the real reason, just as the memory of that fateful match wasn't the only thing making him hesitate, and he glanced down. Because I don't want you to watch if we lose. If…not when. At least in the safety of his own thoughts, he wanted to believe that they could somehow pull off a miracle tomorrow, that he could block Ushijima. But he couldn't admit it aloud, and he didn't want to risk his brother being there, in case he failed, and he rose abruptly as he saw the protests building in Akiteru's face. "I'm going to bed."

"….Kei."

Somehow, he had a feeling that his brother wasn't going to listen to him, and he clicked his tongue in annoyance and kept moving. In the safety of his own room, he let his shoulders sink for a moment as he sighed. It was exhausting actually caring about something, and he almost wished that he could go back to how he had been.

Almost.

He lifted his hand, trying to ignore the mental image of a smirking Kuroo that filled his mind as he stared down at his fingers before slowly curling his hand into a fist.

I'm going to stop him, at least a few times…

Pain. Confusion…

Had he been hit by another ball? He could remember playing, flying, eyes locked on the ball. Had he screwed up? Was Kageyama going to be bad at him again? He couldn't feel the intimidating aura that usually followed a goof…

He couldn't feel…

It hurt.

And somewhere, just beyond his reach, the phone rang again.

Asahi yawned as he stepped into his room, towelling his hair dry. He was exhausted, and yet he wasn't sure that he could sleep yet, a nervous energy coursing through him. Finals. It was strange, it still didn't feel entirely real, as though he was waiting for someone to call him and tell him it was a mistake, or to wake up and find that they still had to play Aoba Johsai again. Yet, at the same time, it was wonderfully, terrifyingly real, and he gulped as he stared at the file that Ukai had given them to read. It was a dream come true, and one that he hadn't thought he was going to see before he finished high school, and it might all be snatched away again the next day because Shiratowza was nothing like the teams they'd fought before, and…

His phone buzzed angrily on the desk, multiple chimes indicating a battery of messages, and even before he reached for it, he knew who it was going to be. Sure enough, his inbox was filled with messages from Nishinoya, and he shook his head, a wry grin on his lips as he opened worked his way through them.

We're going to win tomorrow.

Don't panic.

I'll be right behind you, guarding your back.

Make sure you call for the tosses.

Seriously, don't you dare chicken out.

The messages were scattered and demanding, yet strangely buoying at the same time, and some of the panic that he had been building up to eased away as he stared down at the phone. I'm not the same as I was back then. He didn't think any of them would be able to forget what had happened back then, or that for a time he had run away. But that didn't matter, they didn't need to forget. If anything, he needed to remember that feeling, because he didn't want to feel that again, which meant that he had to fight, to call for the tosses and make sure that he didn't lose ground to Hinata.

We might not win, but we're not going down without a fight.

I'm not going down without a fight.

A flat tire, or may Shouyou had been too tired to cycle and was having to rest… it wouldn't be the first time, especially after a match or particularly exhausting practice, and oh how she wanted to believe that was the reason for his tardiness when her husband had offered them in the face of her growing panic. But she had seen the hesitation in his expression, the worry that he couldn't entirely hide as he offered to drive down and check the road in the hopes of finding Shouyou on his way home, and she found herself dialling her son's phone yet again.

Please…

It rang out again, and as she lowered it with a noise that was part sigh and part rising sob there was an impact against her leg, and she glanced down to find Natsu hugging her fiercely. She was tired, her cheeks flushed with it, and she didn't know what was going on, but it was clear that she was picking up on the fact that something was wrong. Resting a hand on her daughter's head, tousling the wild, ginger hair that was so like Shouyou's, she forced a smile. "It's okay Natsu, he'll be home soon…"

So, why didn't she believe it herself?

There was no way she could just stand there waiting for her son to pick up, or for her husband to be proven right or wrong, and holding Natsu close, she thumbed through her phone for a number she'd never had need to call before. Holding her breath as she pressed it to her ear.

"Ukai Kenshin speaking…"

Yamaguchi was sprawled on his bed, holding his volleyball up above his head. It was smoother than it had been, evidence of the long hours he'd spent practising, and yet he'd never felt less ready to step on the court, and he hated it. We're going to the finals, and… He sighed. It was easier to think about what would come next, about nationals, and moving forward when he was surrounded by the others. On his own, he tended to start worrying and overthinking things, like he was right now. Groaning, he tossed the ball up and down lightly, envisioning the toss.

Just over the net…

Just to the right…

There's no way that I can beat Ushiwaka. But... I'm planning on stopping at least a few of his spikes, Tsuki's words broke through his concentration, and he squawked as he dropped the ball on his face, even as a grin spread across his face. That was right, he didn't need to do everything, he just needed to do what he could and it would all add up.

I just have to get one over the net…and then another…one step at a time.

Even one point can make all the difference.

The ringing had stopped, much to his relief as it had been like a drill working through his head, and yet now he was intensely aware of the quiet stretching around him. It pressed on him, an awareness tugging at the edge of his scattered thoughts.

Where am I?

He remembered thinking it had been a spike to the face, or at least he thought it did. But that wasn't right. It was too quiet. It didn't smell of the gym. So where?

He blinked, opening eyes that he hadn't even been aware were shut and found himself staring up at…a tree? He blinked, and the shapes shifted, a blur of colour, more dark than anything and the moment of comprehension started to fade.

I don't…

… He didn't understand.

Everything hurt, and he didn't know where he was, just that he wasn't supposed to be there. And his eyes were burning, stinging, something cold and wet on his cheeks. Was it raining? Was he outside? But, he had been in the gym, hadn't he…?

Across town, Kageyama collapsed on to his back with a wide yawn. He was exhausted but in a good way. For all that he'd grumbled that Hinata had got them into trouble by asking him to practice after they were supposed to go home, he was glad they'd had. The meeting beforehand had been a sobering reminder of what they were going up against, although he hadn't disagreed with what Hinata had said when the shorter boy had stood up. Still, it was more reassuring to put it into practice on the court, to see for themselves that they were still on form, even exhausted and with the finals looming over then. The weirdo combo in top form.

Tomorrow.

He lifted his hand into the air, just as he had when he'd held it out for Hinata to bump. He knew that they weren't guaranteed to win tomorrow, nothing was certain in volleyball, he'd learned that the hard way, even though there were still times when his mind insisted that it could be. If he was in top form if each cog turned perfectly… but he knew better now. He knew that you could fight as hard as you possibly could, be entirely in sync, and still lose. But… He closed his eyes, and unlike when he'd first started Karasuno, it wasn't the gaping emptiness behind him that he saw, but a flash of orange, almost too fast to follow.

We're going to win tomorrow, and we'll show Ushijima just how high you can fly.

Waiting was worse than the worry.

Or maybe it was because some part of her had hoped that the Coach would know exactly where her son was, and he hadn't. Hearing the concern that had bled into his voice, had made it worse, and she'd had to fight the urge to fall apart on him. Now she was reduced to waiting, while he contacted the Captain and possibly the rest of the team, and for her husband to either find their son or come back empty-handed, and she hated it.

She was trembling she realised as she settled on the couch, Natsu curled into her side, and her phone clutched in a white-knuckled grip. Please… She didn't even dare try Shouyou again at this point, in case she missed a vital call, and she found herself wrapping her arms tighter around her daughter.

Please…

Daichi was sat at the dining table, food half-forgotten as he paged through the file that the girls had made for them, trying to memorise as much of it as he possibly could. Tomorrow was their last chance. Not Karasuno's, but the Third Years' and that meant that they had to push themselves to the limit to seize hold of this opportunity. We're going to win, he had to believe that. They had to believe that. It was how they fought, pouring everything into each step, each attack, believing that it would get through, and they would need that more than ever tomorrow.

Biting back a yawn, knowing that he would need to turn in soon, he flicked back to the start for a final read-through, paying no attention to the phone ringing in the background or his mother going to answer it. If it was one of the others, they would just have texted him, and he couldn't think of anyone else who would need him tonight…

"Daichi! Your coach is on the phone…" He blinked, looking up to find his mother stood there with a question in her eyes as she held out the phone to him, but all Daichi could do was shrug his shoulders as he took it.

"Hello, what can….?" Ukai cut him off with an urgency that he had never heard from the man before, and his brows knit together as he listened, the determination and focus from a moment before, giving way to a sinking feeling of dread.

What…?

Natsu had fallen asleep against her, and that was the only thing stopping her from pacing around the room, the panic having taking hold firmly now. Instead, she was trapped in her seat, one hand playing with Natsu's hair, and the other clutching the phone.

Please. Please…

The ringing of the phone was deafening in the strained quiet.