Hanamaki sent a light, deceptively casual jump serve with a soft "whoosh." It looked fast—fast enough to fool people at a glance.
Yamagata rolled forward to receive it, sliding from the backcourt to the front with a quick swoop, dodging everyone's feet. After the roll, he adjusted his position and managed to dig the ball up.
"Bang!"
Nishinoya's eyes sparkled as he stared straight at Yamagata, murmuring in admiration.
"So amazing… Shiratorizawa's libero."
Ennoshita nodded seriously, then rubbed Nishinoya's gel-styled hair.
"You can do it too, Noya. You're Karasuno's guardian deity."
"Of course!" Nishinoya snorted proudly.
"Shirabu!"
Still kneeling on his left knee, Yamagata pushed the ball up toward Shirabu.
From the corner of his eye, Shirabu noticed Yamagata's awkward posture after the receive. No matter how many times he saw it, he still thought liberos were incredible.
After Aobajosai received the ball on the other side, their defense immediately tightened. Against Shiratorizawa, vigilance and defense were the only options.
Who would this ball go to?
Oikawa's eyes scanned the players across the net, calculations constantly running through his head as he searched for a weakness.
The moment Shirabu set the ball, Oikawa didn't wait.
"Matsukawa! Makki!"
Matsukawa and Hanamaki rushed forward to block.
They were blocking Ushijima. The ball had indeed gone toward Ushijima's side—but behind him was Goshiki. Ushijima was still the most likely attacker.
Iwaizumi stood ready behind them to cover.
At the net, Oikawa observed Shiratorizawa's attack pattern.
Goshiki sniffed uncomfortably. The cotton stuffed in his nose felt awful.
Shirabu: stare—
The hair on Goshiki's back stood up. When he turned around and saw Shirabu staring at him expressionlessly, he instantly understood.
He began circling behind for his approach.
Seeing this, Ryosuke also looped behind for a run-up, helping Goshiki confuse the blockers.
When Oikawa saw No. 8 and Ryosuke approach and jump together, he froze for a moment.
Something felt wrong.
Ryosuke played middle blocker—but Oikawa had never seen him spike before…
Hanamaki and Kunimi both moved to block Goshiki. Matsukawa hesitated for a moment before shifting toward Ryosuke to cover the gap.
Oikawa watched Ushijima remain completely still. Behind him, Reon had his arms spread, clearly preparing to receive.
If neither Ryosuke nor Goshiki spiked…
Then there was only one other possibility—
"No! Watch for the setter dump!"
Oikawa suddenly figured it out.
Shiratorizawa was already pulling out disgusting tricks like Kawanishi's delayed shots. A setter dump from Shirabu wouldn't be strange at all.
Damn it!
He couldn't get there in time!
Shirabu also heard the shout. He clicked his tongue softly, hooked the ball with his left hand, and let it float over the net.
Hanamaki and Kunimi had already jumped to block Goshiki. By the time they landed, it was too late to chase the ball.
Oikawa sprinted forward, dove like a fish, and slammed onto the floor. Tilting his head back, he barely managed to pop the ball up with his wrist.
Watari rushed in from the backcourt to save it.
"It's fine! I've got it!"
Oikawa climbed back to his feet with a grimace.
Good thing he was wearing kneepads. Otherwise his knees would've scraped raw on the floor.
Damn Shiratorizawa!
So annoying!
The moment Iwaizumi saw Oikawa's dark expression, he knew exactly what was happening.
His childhood friend was great in every way—except he had a habit of holding grudges against geniuses.
And his resentment toward Shiratorizawa ran deep.
Goshiki jumped and swung again but hit nothing, his expression immediately sour.
Ryosuke glanced at him with amusement.
"Even if you didn't score, you still participated in the attack. Didn't you jump higher just now?"
The tiny bit of imbalance in Goshiki's heart was instantly soothed.
He grinned.
"Right? I think I jumped higher too. I'll test it again at the next physical exam."
Reon had already grown used to this.
During the break earlier, Ryosuke had told him these tricks were all learned from Akaashi.
Looking at Goshiki, whose mood had completely recovered, Reon silently decided he would send Akaashi a custom thank-you banner tomorrow.
Watari saved the ball.
Since Oikawa had already touched it, he couldn't take part in the attack again. Watari hadn't expected that situation.
Which meant the only one who could set now was Hanamaki.
"Makki!"
Hanamaki glanced at Oikawa, then at Watari.
Oikawa nodded.
Hanamaki immediately understood.
If Oikawa couldn't set, then it had to be him. After all, Makki could do a little bit of everything.
Standing sideways to the net, Hanamaki recalled what Oikawa had once told him.
"You're the only one in Aobajosai besides me who can set. If I touch the ball before the attack starts, it'll be up to you. Just remember—set it to Iwa-chan."
Because of that one sentence, Hanamaki had become the player—aside from Oikawa—who understood Iwaizumi's attack style best.
"Iwa-chan!"
Without hesitation, Iwaizumi bent his knees and pushed off the ground.
Standing right at the net with no run-up, he jumped straight up.
Ryosuke rushed over to block—but Iwaizumi was already in the air while Ryosuke was still on the way.
Yamagata sprinted across the backcourt to the opposite side of Iwaizumi's spike and gave Ryosuke a reassuring look.
Don't worry.
"Bang!"
Iwaizumi smashed the ball fiercely toward the sideline.
Yamagata's eyes widened.
Damn it—since when did he have that move?!
"Bang!"
The ball slammed down right on the sideline.
Point.
"Beeeep—"
Yamagata felt a headache coming on.
Did every single player on Aobajosai have line shots like that?
They were slippery as hell—impossible to block.
Ryosuke bent over with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.
At that moment, he missed Tendō-senpai terribly.
If Tendō were here, things wouldn't be this hectic.
Ryosuke knew his stamina wasn't great. He had been conserving energy during the first two sets, but by the third he was already feeling the strain.
Aobajosai's strategy of dragging the blockers around the court like this was seriously disgusting.
Sweat dripped from Ryosuke's forehead into his eyes. The sting made him close them briefly.
He took a deep breath, stretched his joints, and stood up again.
Facing the worried looks from Ushijima and Goshiki, he shook his head.
He was fine.
Everyone turned their attention back to the court.
Iwaizumi gave Hanamaki a thumbs-up.
"Nice ball!"
Hanamaki grinned.
"Nice spike!"
After that point, it was Iwaizumi's serve.
Holding the volleyball, he silently resolved to score several points—at least three—and widen the gap.
14:17.
Shiratorizawa was already three points behind.
If they could widen the gap now, they could take this set.
This had to work.
Seeing Iwaizumi walk to the service line, Yamagata tensed immediately.
He really hated Aobajosai.
They were way too annoying.
Especially Iwaizumi and Oikawa.
Two people who had nothing in common, yet their playing styles and shot patterns were ridiculously similar—even the power of their jump serves.
It was basically Oikawa +2.
"Beeeep—"
The whistle interrupted Yamagata's wandering thoughts.
He refocused.
One second passed.
Two seconds.
Three seconds…
But Iwaizumi still didn't serve.
The waiting made everyone anxious.
In volleyball, once the whistle sounds, the server must hit the ball within eight seconds. People had timed their serves before.
But someone as upright as Iwaizumi using this trick?
He had definitely been corrupted by Oikawa.
Iwaizumi counted in his head.
Yamagata counted in his head too.
Sweat dripped quietly.
Both sides were completely silent.
Even the audience and coaches were affected. They subconsciously held their breath.
In that moment, Iwaizumi's presence had spread all the way into the stands.
But Yamagata only felt more nervous.
Finally—
At the eighth second, Iwaizumi moved.
His expression was stern as he tossed the ball and stepped forward.
"Bang!"
Yamagata held his breath, shifted his center of gravity to the left, bent his knees slightly, and lowered his stance to receive.
"Bang!"
The ball slammed into his forearms and shot upward.
It rebounded too fast—Yamagata didn't even have time to absorb the force.
This time nobody needed instructions.
Everyone rushed forward to chase the ball—especially Goshiki and Ryosuke.
Oikawa watched the ball overhead while quickly checking everyone's positions.
The ball was still flying near the net.
Ryosuke wouldn't make it in time.
"Chance ball!"
"Got it!"
Watari sprinted to the three-meter line, jumped, and perfectly bumped the ball over to Kunimi.
Nishinoya shot up from the stands instantly, grabbing the railing and leaning forward like crazy.
Daichi nearly had a heart attack and grabbed the back of Nishinoya's collar.
"What was that?! That was so cool! A libero setting from the three-meter line—WAAAHHH!"
Before Daichi could scold him, Nishinoya was already screaming like a broken siren.
Daichi's ears were ringing.
"So cool!!!"
Hinata immediately joined the shouting. The two of them were like wound-up steam trains, causing chaos.
Tsukishima glanced at the two single-celled organisms with disdain and decided not to comment.
Yamaguchi looked between the court and Nishinoya before whispering to Tsukishima.
"Tsukki… what was that move? Is it really that cool?"
Tsukishima thought for a moment.
"A libero three-meter line set. I heard Coach Ukai mention it before—it's difficult. A libero can bump the ball to attackers from inside the three-meter line."
"But they can't set it with their hands. And the ball can't go above the net height, or it's a foul."
"That receive just sped up the rhythm between Shiratorizawa and Aobajosai."
Yamaguchi nodded, half understanding.
Asahi glanced at Tsukishima quietly.
Tsukishima was really hypocritical sometimes.
Yamagata tapped his head.
He hadn't expected Watari to know a three-meter line pass.
Pretty impressive…
But it didn't matter. It wouldn't stop them from scoring.
At this point, Yamagata wasn't even surprised anymore.
When playing Aobajosai, anything could happen.
Goshiki didn't really understand what that move was.
But since Ryosuke had no reaction, he decided not to say anything either.
Oikawa blinked.
"Huh?"
Why was no one surprised?
Everyone was so calm.
That was a three-meter line pass.
A libero three-meter line pass!
He glanced across the net again.
Still no reaction.
Oikawa gave up whatever petty scheme he had been thinking about.
Coach Washijō cast a disdainful look toward Coach Irihata.
Just as expected.
What kind of coach produces what kind of players.
All these flashy tricks—obviously taught by that shameless Irihata.
Washijō narrowed his eyes and stared over.
Meanwhile, Irihata—suddenly burdened with the blame for something he knew nothing about—smiled politely at Washijō.
Washijō snorted.
Kunimi watched the ball Watari had bumped over and reflexively jumped to spike.
Ryosuke's eyes sharpened.
He quickly scanned the players on the left side.
Almost instantly, he locked onto Kunimi.
Ryosuke took a long stride, bending low like a silent black cat as he slipped to the net directly opposite Kunimi.
Kunimi kept his eyes on the ball, briefly scanning the court.
For some reason, he never looked directly in front of him.
With a sudden jump, he prepared to spike a joust ball.
Ryosuke was already crouched there waiting.
He flexed his calves and jumped, driving upward with his knees.
Kunimi's spike in midair ran straight into Ryosuke's block.
Originally aiming for a straight shot, Kunimi changed to a cross shot at the last second.
Ryosuke watched Kunimi's hand.
The next instant, his right hand shifted sideways—
Perfectly intercepting the cross shot.
"Bang!"
"Smack!"
"Beeeep—"
That clash at the net lasted only a fraction of a second.
But for the two players involved, time seemed to stretch endlessly.
"Shit!"
Kunimi couldn't help cursing.
Iwaizumi immediately heard it and frowned, already preparing to scold him.
Ryosuke also heard it.
Curious, he quietly repeated the word in his head.
Having grown up without exposure to that kind of language, he secretly memorized it, planning to ask Reon about it later.
He could already imagine Reon's reaction.
Very clearly.
Ryosuke lowered his hand and glanced at the scoreboard.
19:21.
His delicate brows knitted together.
There was still a gap.
Aobajosai was about to reach set point.
They were still two points behind.
"Beeeep—"
The referee signaled for the serve.
Goshiki glanced at Ryosuke.
Ryosuke smiled and rubbed Goshiki's bowl-cut hair.
"Go on. You can do it."
With the expression of someone marching off to sacrifice himself heroically, Goshiki nodded.
Looking at his back, there was an inexplicable sense of tragic grandeur.
(Not really.)
"Beeeep—"
"Bang!"
As soon as the whistle sounded, Goshiki launched a powerful jump serve.
Reon quietly evaluated the ball.
Power: good.
Speed: good.
Curve: present.
Not bad.
This was probably Goshiki's best serve of the match so far.
Watari dragged his tired legs forward to receive.
"Bang!"
The ball slammed into the center of the court at high speed.
Oikawa had intended to chase it, but Iwaizumi stopped him.
That one was already gone.
Watari looked up at Goshiki in confusion.
What was going on with this guy?
His serves in the first two sets were average, and his technique hadn't looked impressive either.
So what was this now?
Schrödinger's bad technique?
Watari's head filled with question marks.
Ryosuke turned around, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted:
"Goshiki is amazing! That was an ace!"
Goshiki's face flushed red with excitement.
Watching Goshiki practically bloom with flowers from Ryosuke's praise, his eyes burning with fighting spirit, Shirabu looked completely unfazed.
"So pathetic," Shirabu muttered quietly.
But in his heart, he still acknowledged Goshiki's strength.
Goshiki accepted the ball from the ball boy and prepared to serve again.
After scoring with the previous serve, his touch was at its peak.
Goshiki felt like he could score another ace.
"Bang!"
As he jumped, his body stretched out smoothly. From the stands, everyone could clearly see the young player's excellent, energetic form.
The girls sitting in the front row were caught completely off guard.
Their eyes instantly filled with stars.
Watari watched the ball, which seemed even faster this time.
His confusion only deepened.
But he didn't overthink it.
Stepping forward, he prepared to receive, sprinting toward the center of the court…
...
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