Ryosuke listened to Hinata cry for a full twenty minutes without stopping, staring blankly ahead.
Hinata… how could he cry even harder than me?
It had been a long time since Hinata cried like this. Once he started, he simply couldn't stop. And to do it in front of his best friend… only after he finally calmed down did he realize just how embarrassing it was.
He wiped his tears and snot with the hem of his shirt, sniffed, and said in a thick, nasal voice,
"Sorry… you must think I'm ridiculous."
Hearing Hinata finally speak, Ryosuke let out a quiet sigh of relief. The way he'd been sobbing just now had honestly made him worry Hinata might cry himself into fainting.
Ryosuke softened his voice, speaking gently, almost like he was comforting a little kid.
"It's okay… It's raining outside right now. Head back early so you don't catch a cold. Make sure you put on your jacket.
Um… will you come watch my match tomorrow?"
"I will!"
Hinata's answer came instantly, loud and firm. Hearing that energy back in his voice, Ryosuke finally relaxed.
They chatted a little longer. Only when Daichi called out from nearby did Hinata awkwardly hang up.
After ending the call, Hinata stretched his numb legs and stood up, his entire face flushed red.
His cheeks burned. Calling Ryosuke just to cry because he was upset—and crying so hard there'd been tears and snot everywhere… it was mortifying.
He buried his face in his hands like an ostrich.
But… Ryosuke was really gentle. He hadn't complained once. Didn't sound annoyed at all. Having a friend like that…
It really was something to be grateful for.
Kageyama looked at Hinata's reddened eyes and pressed his lips together without speaking. He wanted to comfort him too. But if he opened his mouth, it would probably come out as, "You're already this old and still crying?" and they'd just end up fighting again.
So he chose silence.
On the other end, Ryosuke lay flat on his bed after the call, staring blankly at the ceiling.
Thinking about how Hinata had sobbed just now, he couldn't help picturing him curled up somewhere small, sniffling like a tiny animal.
"Ha…"
Ryosuke laughed at his own ridiculous imagination, letting out a soft snort as he lay there.
...
Lost in random thoughts, he listened to the steady drizzle outside the window. His breathing gradually evened out. The sky wasn't fully dark yet. In his hazy state, he reminded himself he shouldn't sleep now—if he did, he wouldn't be able to fall asleep later…
His eyelids kept fighting to stay open.
In the end, he lost to the lullaby of rain and drifted off. The phone slipped from his hand.
When Coach Washijō came home and didn't hear the usual noise from that brat, he went upstairs to check. The boy was already asleep.
Coach Washijō snorted.
No match today, and he's already asleep before it's even dark—like a pig. If he wakes up in the middle of the night, I'll deal with him then.
He turned and left in a huff.
———————————————
Karasuno
After saying goodbye to his seniors, Hinata jumped on his bike and pedaled like mad. The wind dried the tears off his face.
Next time. Next time, he would beat Aobajosai. Beat Shiratorizawa. Beat all of them.
He couldn't let down the entire training plan Ryosuke had written for him.
When the next match came, that final ball—
He would spike it cleanly.
In his room, Kageyama practiced setting against the wall alone. His mind kept replaying the look in Oikawa's eyes when they'd collided during that rally.
Kageyama might seem dense, but he understood more than people thought.
He understood the way Oikawa-senpai had excluded him in middle school. His own bad temper. The sideways glances from others.
He knew his personality wasn't likable.
…So what exactly did he have to do to become a setter like Oikawa-senpai?
Kageyama slammed the ball hard against the wall.
Bang!
It ricocheted back and smacked into his arm.
...
Shiratorizawa
Tsutomu Goshiki lay on his dorm bed. Yunohama's snoring echoed beside him.
He stared at the ceiling, raising his right hand.
He replayed that miraculous block from today in his head. Over and over, he swung his arm in the air, trying to find that same feeling.
But no matter how many times he tried, he couldn't recreate it.
So… was that block really just luck?
It had felt so smooth at the time.
...
Aobajosai
Oikawa sat in front of his computer, just like he had countless times before a match, meticulously analyzing every detail of Shiratorizawa's gameplay.
He bit his nails, legs folded beneath him, mouse moving nonstop.
He'd clearly been at it for hours.
He was already a third-year.
He couldn't afford to lose anymore.
Ushijima. Kageyama. Ryosuke. The little shorty…
Those geniuses were all catching up to him.
Three years in middle school. Three years in high school.
He had never led his school to Nationals.
Toru Oikawa… was just an ordinary person.
All his effort over the years seemed effortless in the eyes of those geniuses.
What did he have to do to beat those damn prodigies?
From the next room, Iwaizumi noticed the light still on in Oikawa's room.
He sighed.
That idiot is watching match footage again.
He just hoped Oikawa wouldn't dig himself into a hole.
Iwaizumi rested his head on his desk, staring into nothing.
What would tomorrow look like?
Would they lose again?
Should he retire after this?
What would he do after graduation…?
In the darkness of the night, the boys' worries tangled into a dense web.
What would tomorrow be like?
What would the future be like?
Time would eventually make everything clear.
Prefectural Tournament — Day Three
The next morning, under Coach Washijō's supervision, Ryosuke carefully reapplied ointment to his knee and wrapped it tightly with bandages to prevent any flare-ups during the match.
The finals were this morning.
For some reason, the road to the finals had felt too easy.
He'd only played in one match. It almost didn't feel real.
Miyagi really didn't have many strong schools left.
Ryosuke went to school with Coach Washijō. After arriving, he headed straight to the gym to wait while Coach Washijō attended a meeting.
"Morning," Ryosuke greeted with a smile.
"Morning," Tendo replied weakly, raising a hand. His face had an unnatural flush.
Ryosuke's eyes widened.
Tendo-senpai was acting weird. He didn't even mess with him today.
He stepped closer and asked quietly, "Tendo-senpai, are you okay?"
Tendo yawned slowly.
"Didn't sleep well. Don't worry. I'm fine."
Yamagata, who had just finished breakfast, let out a small burp.
"You shouldn't say that before a match. You'll jinx it. That's basically tempting fate—it means things might end up going the exact opposite way."
Tsutomu Goshiki tilted his head, quietly storing the new word away in his mind.
Ryosuke laughed.
"Yamagata-senpai, don't scare him. It's just superstition. Tsutomu Goshiki doesn't believe in that stuff."
Caught off guard, Tsutomu Goshiki still nodded honestly.
Yamagata shrugged. "Suit yourself."
Reon hurried in through the door, completely ignoring their conversation. He went straight to Tendo, worry written all over his face. In his hand was a plastic bag filled with cold medicine and fever patches.
"Satori, how are you feeling?"
Ryosuke, Tsutomu Goshiki, and Yamagata all froze.
…Jinx?
Tsutomu Goshiki blinked.
I literally just learned that word…
The three of them crowded around Reon—one digging through the bag, one asking questions, and one checking Tendo's expression.
"Reon-senpai… what happened?" Tsutomu Goshiki asked.
Shirabu and Kawanishi were drawn over by the commotion.
Reon sighed and shot Tsutomu Goshiki a glare. He hadn't planned to tell everyone.
"After yesterday's match, I went back to the dorm first. Later I found out Satori stayed out to eat. It started pouring, and he didn't bring a jacket. He probably caught a cold."
Yesterday afternoon's rain had been heavy. Most people had returned early.
Tendo, however, had gone out for food and ended up soaked.
And as usual, he hadn't brought a jacket. His phone had even been left inside it, so Reon had brought it back for him.
Now he'd caught it.
Shirabu clicked his tongue.
"Couldn't you have waited until the rain stopped? It's not like you were in a hurry."
Ushijima walked over holding a thermometer.
"Borrowed it from Team Doctor Saito. Check his temperature."
Reon took it and skillfully slipped it into Tendo's mouth.
Tendo slumped weakly against Ryosuke. Ryosuke could feel the heat radiating off him.
This was definitely a fever.
Everyone fell silent.
"Thirty-eight degrees," Reon said quietly after checking.
No one spoke.
Ryosuke peeled open a fever patch and pressed it onto Tendo's forehead.
Tendo's eyes were already drooping.
Coach Washijō walked in to find the group gathered around in silence.
He'd already heard from Saito. Still, seeing the 38-degree reading himself made him frown.
"Reon. Ushijima. Take Tendo to the infirmary for an IV. He's sitting this match out."
Reon nodded and helped Tendo onto Ushijima's back.
Tendo, half-conscious, understood the decision. It wasn't unfair. Coach Washijō was worried about his health.
He tapped Ushijima's shoulder, signaling him to stop.
Then he forced his eyes open and looked at Ryosuke.
"Ryosuke… Shiratorizawa's Block is in your hands now."
The words cut through the room.
In that instant, Ryosuke felt the full weight of it.
The core of Shiratorizawa's defense.
Years later, when he thought back on this day, all he remembered was nodding firmly in front of everyone—accepting that heavy responsibility.
Coach Washijō's voice shattered the tension.
"What are you all standing there for with those long faces? He's sick, not dead! You think you can't play without him? Since when did Shiratorizawa get so soft?!"
They straightened immediately.
"Yes!"
For Shiratorizawa, Ushijima's presence was strength.
And Tendo standing at the net was reassurance itself—the first line of defense.
"Today's opponent is our old rival, Aobajosai. You all know their style. I won't repeat it. This match is on you—don't run to me for every little thing.
Lineup:
Ushijima, Ryosuke, Tsutomu Goshiki
Reon, Yamagata, Shirabu
With Tendo out, Ryosuke and Yamagata, you anchor the defense. We only accept victory."
"Yes!"
Like a general sending his soldiers into battle, Coach Washijō gave his declaration.
He believed they could bring home another championship.
...
Miyagi's final battle.
They packed their bags and headed early to warm up.
Tsutomu Goshiki and Ryosuke crouched nearby, watching Yunohama pack for them.
In another corner stood Yamagata and Kawanishi.
Reon was packing someone else's bag too.
Somehow, the two of them standing there felt strangely similar.
Maybe it was the glow of fatherly energy.
Reon glanced at Yunohama and thought to himself—
This kid's future might be just as chaotic as mine.
They followed Reon toward the gym.
Before they even reached it, they saw a massive crowd blocking the entrance—people holding signs, posters of Ushijima and Oikawa.
Ryosuke blinked.
"Are we really that famous?"
Eita Semi, munching snacks he'd swiped from Kawanishi, snorted.
"You really don't read school forums, huh? Half of them are here for Shiratorizawa. The other half for Aobajosai."
"Aobajosai?"
Semi nodded.
"Oikawa struts around like a peacock every match. They're all here for his face. It's like idol culture."
Ryosuke was stunned.
You'd never guess from practice that Oikawa-senpai was such a heartthrob.
Meanwhile—
"Achoo!"
Oikawa rubbed his nose.
Heh. Must be another girl talking about the handsome and charming Oikawa-sama.
"Oikawa! Where the hell are you?!"
Hearing Iwaizumi's shout, Oikawa flinched and sneaked back toward his team—only to be greeted by Iwaizumi's fist of justice.
Shiratorizawa decided to use the back entrance.
But when they arrived—
They ran straight into Aobajosai, who had clearly had the same idea.
Reon and Iwaizumi blinked at each other.
"…What a coincidence."
"…Yeah. What a coincidence."
An awkward silence spread between the two teams.
...
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