Haikyuu: Crimson Ascent

Chapter 5: Before the Bloom

A week had passed since the entrance exams.

The tension that had settled in Haruki's shoulders during the days leading up to the test had faded only slightly. The rhythms of studying, reviewing, and holding his breath for the next thing had been replaced by something quieter—waiting.

He had ridden the train to the suburbs after exams the next morning, backpack over one shoulder and a box of sweets from the station tucked under the other. His grandparents had greeted him with smiles and tired eyes. Their house smelled like old cedar and miso soup, as it always did.

The following days were drowsy, but in a soothing manner. Sunlight in the morning streamed through the windows, illuminating long gleaming stripes across the tatami mat. His grandfather got up every morning, whistling softly while he read the paper, and his grandmother glided silently through the kitchen, hands never still. Haruki would sit at the low table quite often, assisting with peeling vegetables or folding washing, giggling as they playfully teased one another about not remembering where the soy sauce stood.

There was something serene about it. The quiet routines. The slow pace of talk. The way time seemed to lengthen and breathe.

And yet, the question of the results persisted.

It hung at the periphery of everything—like a curtain stirring in the corner of his eye, never quite drawn.

The morning the results were to be announced, Haruki woke up before dawn. The sky was dark, a blue wash still painted across it. The old house groaned softly as it settled into morning.

He sat in the guest room with his phone on the futon next to him. Official announcement time was 8:00 a.m. sharp.

It was 7:42.

He had checked the date twice last night. Triple-checked the login credentials.

He rested back against the wall, arms hanging loosely across his chest. His heart wasn't pumping, precisely, but beat with a certain defineness—a drum you only hear in silence.

There was a knock at the door.

"You awake?" his grandfather's voice called out, muffled but kindly.

"Yeah," Haruki replied. "Just waiting."

His grandfather laughed. "Well, eat something afterward. Good or bad, it'll taste better with rice."

Haruki grinned to himself. "Got it."

As 8:00 finally ticked over, he breathed, retrieved his phone, and opened the results page.

The login screen. He entered his ID. The spinning symbol spun round, each second taking longer than the last to tick by.

Then—his name.

His exam number.

His result: Passed.

He exhaled a breath he hadn't known he was holding. It wasn't a gasp, not really a sigh—just a letting go. Like strings being gradually untangled from the middle of his chest.

He looked at the word for a very long time. Passed.

He didn't know what he was meant to feel. Relief, pride, excitement? He felt all of them in weak thrums, like tiny waves against the shore of something deeper.

He stood up and pushed the door open, padding down the hall to the kitchen.

His grandparents turned from the table, his grandmother still suspended in mid-air with her chopsticks.

"Well?" she asked.

Haruki nodded once. "I passed."

There was a pause of silence, and then broad smiles erupted across both faces. His grandfather reached over and slapped his shoulder firmly, and his grandmother clapped her hands gently together.

"I knew it," she said. "Of course you did."

"Good," his grandfather said. "That's good."

They finished breakfast with a sort of quiet happiness, one that didn't have to be boisterous or over-the-top. Just warm. Satisfying.

In the late afternoon, Haruki assisted his grandfather in sweeping the tiny backyard, removing dead leaves that had accumulated under the trees. The air was chilly but not cold. The final vestiges of winter were receding.

They didn't say much. They didn't have to.

That night, Haruki went out alone. The rural sky stretched out over him, full of distant stars. The wind was chilly enough to hurt a bit, but he didn't care.

He gazed upwards, his hands in his jacket pockets.

It was over. He had written the exams. He had passed.

And now—now what?

College was still a distance away, a photograph he hadn't entered yet. His future was pending, but not with haste, rather with patience.

He closed his eyes for a moment.

He recalled the last several months. The late nights with practice problems and study books. The quiet that accompanied being away from the court. The faces he no longer encountered.

He had considered volleyball—not with regret, but with reserve. As though something lay beyond a door he hadn't pushed open yet.

There was time.

He would push it when he was ready.

The stars twinkled softly above, and the wind rustled the trees.

Haruki breathed in deep and slowly breathed out.

Spring was approaching.

And for the first time in a long, long time, he was prepared to move ahead.

(End of the Chapter)