The first set ended, and the players began heading off the court to rest.
Since the finals were played under a best-of-five format, everyone was conserving energy during both the match and the breaks. Ideally, they'd be able to play all five sets if needed.
Once they stepped off the court, the usual noise died down.
Reon quietly thought about what kind of tactics and strategies Aobajosai might use in the next set. He glanced over at Goshiki.
To be honest, he was a little worried about him.
Among the three first-years, Yunohama was the one who usually took care of others, and Ryosuke played with a calm head. Goshiki, on the other hand, was a bit childish—one provocation from Oikawa and he'd lose his composure.
Fortunately, Ryosuke was on the court.
To put it bluntly, Goshiki was like an overexcited husky, and Ryosuke was the leash holding him back. Reon had seen it clearly earlier.
When Goshiki was feeling down, Ryosuke had pulled him back from the edge with just a few words.
That reassured Reon quite a bit.
Goshiki and Ryosuke sat together chatting after coming off the court when Coach Washijō suddenly called out from a distance.
"Ryosuke."
Everyone's attention shifted over.
Ryosuke walked over, looking puzzled.
Washijō thought about the current situation. Tendo was still lying in the infirmary, and no one knew how he was doing.
"Tendo probably won't make it back for today's match."
Ryosuke thought to himself, Why is Coach telling me this?
Outwardly, he just nodded seriously.
Washijō could tell immediately that the boy hadn't understood what he meant. He rolled his eyes impatiently.
"I mean! You'll have to play all five sets today. You struggle enough when we play three..."
Ryosuke fell silent.
With Tendo out sick, the core of Shiratorizawa's blocking would fall on him.
Just thinking about playing five full sets made him hesitate.
His expression turned complicated as his mind raced through possibilities. After a moment, he spoke.
"I'll try to play all five sets. If I can't, then I'll have to give up focusing on blocking and switch to ground defense. With Yamagata-senpai there, the pressure should be lighter. But after all the conditioning training recently, I think my stamina is a bit better than before."
Washijō nodded with satisfaction.
Ryosuke's greatest strength wasn't his technique or talent—it was his mentality and his ability to adapt in the moment.
Those qualities would take him far.
After finishing the conversation, Ryosuke returned to the team.
Goshiki immediately circled around him.
"Ryosuke~ what did Coach say~?"
Ryosuke felt dizzy from him spinning around and grabbed him by the shoulder to stop him.
"Nothing much. Just told me to conserve my stamina."
Only then did Goshiki settle down and nod.
Ushijima noticed Ryosuke hadn't even had time to drink water yet, so he handed him a bottle.
Ryosuke nodded in thanks.
Nearby, Shirabu and Semi were bickering as usual.
Before they returned to the court, Washijō made a substitution—Reon switched out with Kawanishi.
Why not replace Ushijima?
Because even if Ushijima wasn't spiking constantly, the team didn't need their ace sitting out.
Kawanishi rubbed his hands together excitedly, looking ready to cause some trouble.
Washijō glanced sideways at him.
"Know your limits."
In other words, don't go overboard. What if he ran into another Futakuchi?
Kawanishi's eyes lit up as he nodded so vigorously it almost left afterimages.
...
On Aobajosai's side, Matsukawa and Hanamaki were miserably applying medicine to their arms.
The sight was eerily similar to what Todo and Narita had looked like after playing Shiratorizawa.
Kindaichi, who had been standing at the far edge of the block, had taken less of the impact. His arms didn't look nearly as bad, but he still seemed shaken.
Meanwhile, Oikawa was already plotting ways to torment Shiratorizawa again.
"Their defense is really solid. If we want to spike freely, we have to deal with the block first. No rush—we can slowly wear down number six's stamina. By the fourth or fifth set, it should start working."
"Tch. That's pretty nasty," Kunimi muttered quietly.
In the next set he would switch in for Kindaichi, so he was getting ready.
Oikawa immediately hooked an arm around Kunimi's neck.
"Hey! Is that how you talk to Oikawa-sama?"
Kunimi rolled his eyes.
"Childish."
"Who are you calling childish? I'm the captain!"
Iwaizumi stepped in, grabbed the flailing Oikawa, and dragged him away.
Even though he was the captain, Oikawa really was unreliable most of the time.
...
"Beeeep—"
The second set began.
Something about Aobajosai had changed—the atmosphere had become strangely quiet. The tempo wasn't as fast as it had been in the first set.
Was it the calm before the storm?
Or hidden waves beneath the silence?
No one knew yet.
Goshiki stepped up to the service line with the ball and delivered a proper powerful jump serve.
It looked like he had adjusted his emotions.
"Bang!"
"I've got it!"
Watari took a step sideways and received the ball with both arms.
The ball flew high into the air.
Oikawa's first set went straight to Kunimi.
Kunimi: ...
He really didn't want to move.
But he was the closest to the net, and with the ball already coming his way, all he had to do was jump and spike.
Kunimi pushed off the floor and sprang up.
"Huh…"
Kawanishi looked up at him.
This guy looked half-dead all the time—how did he jump so high?
Whether intentionally or not, Kunimi's spike aimed directly at Goshiki again.
Goshiki jumped up as well.
But then he remembered what Ryosuke had told him in the previous set.
"If I'm next to you and you feel like you can't block it, switch positions with me. I'll understand what you mean."
"If I'm not next to you, don't panic. If you can't block it, deliberately leave a gap."
"Let them spike through it and force the ball toward the backcourt or straight line."
"Don't worry. Your teammates are behind you."
Goshiki steadied his arms and deliberately left a small opening on the left side of his block.
Kunimi wasn't exactly the type to overthink things.
If there was an opening, he'd spike.
"Bang!"
Why break through the block if there was a gap?
That was simply Kunimi's instinct.
Which worked perfectly for Yamagata waiting behind.
Yamagata had already noticed something strange when Goshiki jumped for the block. He quickly moved behind him and crouched into position.
"Bang!"
He received the ball cleanly.
"Nice!"
"Beautiful!"
Even Yamagata had to admit it.
Goshiki had actually used his brain during the match.
Goshiki looked over at Ryosuke, who nodded approvingly.
Ryosuke suddenly felt the strange satisfaction of watching a kid grow up.
Kunimi clicked his tongue in frustration but didn't say anything.
Meanwhile, Oikawa burst into laughter at his teammate.
"Looks like you couldn't do it, Kunimi! Hahaha!"
Iwaizumi clenched his fists.
This idiot Oikawa—would it kill him to speak normally?
...
When Yamagata received the ball, Kawanishi immediately stared intensely at Shirabu.
Shirabu turned his head away with a pained expression.
He couldn't stand that burning gaze and reluctantly nodded.
Kawanishi dashed toward the net.
Shirabu delivered a quick, flat set.
Kunimi and Hanamaki rushed in to block.
Kawanishi extended his hand.
A light tap.
Then a gentle tip.
"Plop."
The ball dropped softly onto the floor.
Hanamaki froze.
What was that?!
Who told me what that was?!
Since when did a Shiratorizawa player hit a ball like that?!
Even Kunimi fell silent.
Seriously...
He had nothing to say.
Aobajosai had watched Shiratorizawa's match with Date Tech, but only a few players had actually paid attention—and they were mostly watching Ryosuke's hook serve.
No one knew Kawanishi could do something like this.
Regardless, the point was theirs.
In the stands, Futakuchi clutched his mouth, his face turning green as he grabbed onto Aone for support.
He looked like he might throw up.
Kawanishi's play was simply too shocking.
Over in the Karasuno section, Tsukishima was also deep in thought.
As a blocker, he understood freak quick attacks extremely well.
But a smooth tip like that could easily slip through if you weren't careful.
Number twelve had impressive hang time.
Originally it looked like he was going for a straight spike, but Aobajosai's deadpan block read it.
So he used delicate control and turned it into a tip.
And judging from how smooth it was, he definitely practiced it a lot.
Shiratorizawa really had players with all sorts of styles.
Meanwhile, Oikawa had been moving around in the backcourt and hadn't seen what happened.
All he knew was that the ball hit the floor—and Hanamaki looked completely stunned.
Did something happen that he missed?
Kawanishi walked to the service line with a smile.
Ever since learning that trick, it was like he'd unlocked something strange.
He was having more and more fun playing volleyball.
But his serve was still his usual style.
Rough.
Brutal.
A powerful jump serve.
"Bang!"
The sound alone showed that the power was nearly on par with Ushijima.
Kawanishi was saving up for a big moment.
After all, given Washijō's personality, he wouldn't keep a player with overly flashy tricks on the court for long.
Watari's arms felt like they had been struck by stones.
Heavy.
Almost impossible to lift.
The earlier spikes from Ushijima had already taken a toll on him.
After receiving the ball, Oikawa once again tried to break through from Goshiki's side.
He feinted with his body and drew Goshiki toward Iwaizumi.
The set flew directly above Iwaizumi.
Normally, setters try to lure blockers away to create open space.
But Oikawa was different.
He preferred to line the block up directly against the ace and crush them head-on.
"Bang!"
Goshiki once again subtly left a gap.
Neither Iwaizumi nor Oikawa noticed.
After all, Goshiki's blocking in the first set had looked messy enough that leaving a gap didn't seem strange.
But this time something unexpected happened.
Iwaizumi's spike was too powerful.
Even though Goshiki left a gap, the ball flew too far.
It even veered off course—
toward the coaches' bench.
Ryosuke watched anxiously but couldn't move.
He was the blocker. He had to stay at the net.
Yamagata, however, had already started sprinting the moment the ball flew past the block.
He ran so fast it created a gust of wind.
Kawanishi even got dust in his eyes.
Outside the coaches' bench stood metal barricades with plastic advertisement panels.
Running into them wouldn't cause serious injury, but if someone fell and had to get up again, the play would already be over.
Yamagata didn't care.
He chased the ball at full speed.
The coaches stepped aside instinctively to make room.
When he reached the barricade, Yamagata pushed off with his left foot, drove with his right, and leapt cleanly over it.
Midair—
he received the ball.
"Bang!"
The ball flew high back toward the court.
Using the momentum from his jump, Yamagata rolled across the ground, sprang back up, and sprinted onto the court again.
Several veteran coaches sitting near the bench laughed and commented.
The bald one laughed loudly.
"Good kid. Brave and decisive. Great balance too. That whole sequence was smooth. I like him."
"Yeah, and he actually saved it," someone beside him added.
In previous years, plenty of players had rushed toward the coaches' area chasing balls.
But very few managed to save them.
Most just wanted to show off in front of veteran coaches or officials to leave an impression.
But experienced coaches weren't blind.
Yamagata's clean, decisive save had genuinely caught their attention.
That fearless determination—
no wonder people always called liberos "real men."
Most players avoided impossible balls.
Liberos charged straight at them.
Out of ten liberos, nine were fearless.
The last one was just crazy.
The entire arena erupted with excitement from that save.
It was absolutely a highlight moment.
By the time the ball returned to the court, Shirabu had already moved into position.
As the ball descended above him, Ushijima gave him a look.
He wanted this one.
Yamagata had already sprinted back onto the court in those few seconds.
Shirabu nodded with satisfaction.
Their ace was finally asking for the ball himself.
Ushijima had his own reason.
He wanted to return the favor.
He stepped back for his approach.
The attack came with terrifying momentum.
"Bang!"
The ball slammed down between Iwaizumi and Matsukawa.
The speed was terrifying.
This was practically a challenge.
Even most liberos struggled to receive Ushijima's spikes—let alone middle blockers or outside hitters.
"Beeeep—"
No touch.
Point.
Ushijima hadn't stood out much in this set so far.
Maybe because he was surrounded by players who constantly broke conventions.
But his threat was still very real.
Iwaizumi frowned.
This match was becoming harder and harder to play.
...
In the next rally, Oikawa, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki began running around the net repeatedly, dragging Ryosuke and Goshiki with them.
Goshiki handled it okay.
But Ryosuke was starting to feel the strain.
After blocking another fake set into a real spike, Ryosuke cursed Oikawa internally.
What a jerk.
All he wants is to drain my stamina.
"Bang!"
Another ball came from the right.
Oikawa smirked provocatively at Ryosuke.
Ryosuke calmly nodded back.
12:14.
Aobajosai had taken a two-point lead.
Oikawa kept forcing Ryosuke and Goshiki to move.
There was no other breakthrough.
The third-years on Shiratorizawa were too experienced to be fooled.
Oikawa received the pass and repeated the trick.
He circled around in front of Goshiki, pretending to set to Iwaizumi on the right.
Goshiki hesitated.
He had been tricked too many times already.
But his body moved before his brain could stop it, and he ran toward Iwaizumi again.
Seeing that, Oikawa twisted his waist midair.
He leaned back and executed a back set—
to the left side.
Kunimi, looking as bored as ever, received the ball.
Without hesitation, he swung.
"Bang!"
Iwaizumi looked confused.
Why did my spike miss?
He turned around—
and saw that Kunimi had already scored.
He didn't say anything.
Oikawa did things like this all the time.
Any setter who made it to the prefectural finals was no ordinary player.
Oikawa was one of the best among them.
He didn't just deceive opponents.
He deceived his teammates too.
And Oikawa excelled in every aspect.
The most outrageous part was his hang time.
Without strong hang time, how could he pull off so many tricks?
When it came to fooling people on the court, he had endless methods.
Meanwhile, Goshiki looked like his worldview had collapsed.
Oikawa had tricked him so badly he was completely lost.
Iwaizumi turned his head away.
He sighed quietly.
He honestly couldn't bear to keep fooling the kid anymore.
...
If you'd like to support my work and unlock advanced chapters, you can follow me on p-@-treon.
p-@-treon/GhostParser (40 Chapters Ahead)
You can also follow as a free member to read a few advanced chapters.