Chapter 6: The Three Who Refused to Let Him Fall
The scoreboard didn't even try to pretend anymore.
50 - 0
But this time,
it didn't belong to just one team.
It belonged to three.
Niiyama.
Shirato.
Juzenji.
Three courts.
Three matches.
Three complete demolitions unfolding like synchronized storms.
And at the center of all of them,
stood three sisters.
Each different.
Each terrifying.
Each… watching the same target.
Far away,
on a much smaller court,
a boy dove.
"AGAIN!!"
Yu Nishinoya slammed into the floor, arms stretched, barely scraping the ball up before it kissed the ground.
He rolled.
Popped up.
Didn't even have time to breathe,
"Too slow."
The first voice.
Sharp.
Disciplined.
She stood from Shirato.
Tall posture.
Eyes like measuring blades.
"Your reaction was late by half a second."
"I GOT IT UP!" Noya snapped back.
"You survived," she corrected.
"That's not the same as controlling it."
Before he could respond,
"Relax a little, will ya?"
The second voice.
Light.
Almost lazy.
Juzenji.
She spun a ball on her finger, grinning.
"If you're too stiff, you'll break faster than the ball hits the floor."
"DON'T LISTEN TO HER."
The third voice cut in immediately.
Niiyama.
Explosive.
Dominant.
Radiating pressure like a loaded cannon.
"You don't get to relax until you own the court."
Noya's head snapped between them.
"…You three are insane."
Silence.
Then,
all three smiled.
"Correct."
Because this,
this wasn't normal training.
It was a storm with three centers.
And Noya,
was standing right in the middle of it.
Flashback.
It started simply.
"Hey, Noya."
His eldest sister leaned down slightly.
"You wanna be the best?"
He grinned instantly.
"OF COURSE I DO!"
That answer,
sealed his fate.
Because from that moment on,
They decided something.
"If he's going to be the best…"
Niiyama's Royal Canon voice was calm.
But burning underneath.
"Then we'll make sure nothing gets past him."
Johzenji's Artist laughed.
"Or he'll break trying."
Shirato's Sniper crossed her arms.
"Then he'll learn not to."
And just like that,
Training began.
Not normal training.
Not drills.
Not practice.
No.
This was,
Survival.
Balls came from every direction.
Fast.
Slow.
Spinning.
Dropping.
Unpredictable.
"LEFT!"
Too late.
Impact.
"Again."
"RIGHT!"
Too fast.
Miss.
"Again."
"CENTER!"
Too high.
Scramble.
"Again."
No breaks.
No mercy.
"YOU'RE TRYING TO KILL ME!!" Noya yelled, diving again.
Niiyama's Royal Canon tilted her head slightly.
"No."
A beat.
"We're trying to make you unkillable."
Another ball.
Faster.
Noya barely reacted.
His body slammed into the floor again.
Juzenji's artist crouched slightly.
Watching closely.
"…He's adapting."
Shirato's sniper nodded.
"Not fast enough."
Niiyama's Royal Canon eyes narrowed.
"Then increase pressure."
And just like that,
It got worse.
Balls no longer came one at a time.
They came in waves.
Two.
Three.
Four at once.
Angles overlapping.
Paths crossing.
Noya's world shrank.
Not to the court.
But to the ball.
Every ball.
Each one a threat.
Each one a challenge.
Each one,
a promise.
If you miss… it's over.
His breathing grew rough.
His arms burned.
His legs screamed.
But he didn't stop.
Because every time he thought about quitting,
He saw them.
Watching.
Not doubting.
Not pitying.
Expecting.
"AGAIN!!"
And he answered.
Every time.
Days turned into weeks.
Weeks into months.
And slowly,
Something impossible began to happen.
Noya stopped thinking.
Not in a bad way.
But in a way where,
reaction became instinct.
Movement became automatic.
Fear…
disappeared.
A ball flew at his face.
He didn't flinch.
He moved.
Clean.
Precise.
Perfect.
"…There it is," Juzenji's Artist murmured.
Shirato's sniper eyes sharpened.
"He's crossed the threshold."
Niiyama's Royal Canon smiled faintly.
"Good."
Because now,
they could go further.
Back to the present.
Three courts.
Three 50-0 matches.
Three sisters,
standing victorious.
But none of them cared about the scoreboard.
Because their focus,
was somewhere else.
Noya stood across from them.
Sweating.
Bruised.
Grinning.
"…Again?" he asked.
Silence.
Then,
Niiyama's royal canon stepped forward.
"Yes."
Johzenji's Artist tossed a ball up.
"Don't die."
Shirato's Sniper adjusted her stance.
"Improve."
Noya cracked his neck.
"BRING IT ON!!"
And just like that,
it started again.
But this time,
something was different.
The balls came faster.
Sharper.
Harder.
And Noya,
caught them.
Not barely.
Not desperately.
But cleanly.
Like it was natural.
Like it was easy.
Like it was,
inevitable.
A spike came screaming down.
He stepped.
Arms steady.
Perfect receive.
Silence followed.
Then,
Johzenji's Artist ace grinned.
"…Okay, that was cool."
Shirato's Sniper ace nodded once.
"Acceptable."
Niiyama's Royal Canon ace turned slightly.
"…He's ready."
Noya blinked.
"…For what?"
All three looked at him.
For the first time,
not as someone to train.
But as someone who had survived.
"To become the best libero in the world."
Noya's grin widened.
"Damn right I am."
And somewhere,
deep within him,
something stirred.
Not an alter ego.
Not a voice.
But something else.
A fragment.
Watching.
Drawn to movement.
To instinct.
To a body that had been forged through relentless pressure.
It didn't speak.
It didn't interfere.
It simply,
recognized.
Because among all the monsters,
this one wasn't built by splitting.
He was built by being tested…
over and over again…
until nothing could break him.
And as another ball flew toward him,
Noya moved.
Not as a boy trying to survive.
But as something else entirely.
Something that refused,
absolutely refused,
to let the ball hit the ground.