Arrival at the Tournament
The moment Misaki High stepped into the massive gymnasium, the energy in the air changed.
Banners of rival schools hung from the rafters, and the sound of balls slamming against the court echoed throughout the arena.
This was it—regionals.
Renji adjusted his wristbands, his heartbeat steady but alert. The weight of the competition pressed against him, but unlike before, he wasn't drowning in self-doubt.
He glanced at Yuuto, who stood beside him with arms crossed, eyes scanning the courts. We're ready for this.
Coach Fujimoto gathered them. "Our first match is against Natsume Academy."
The name alone was enough to make some of the newer players tense up. Natsume was known for their rapid-fire offense—quick sets, lightning-fast spikes, and unpredictable attack patterns that left defenses scrambling.
Renji took a deep breath. Time to prove myself again.
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Reading the Opponent
From the very first rally, Natsume Academy lived up to their reputation.
Their setter, a sharp-eyed player named Shindo, executed near-invisible fake sets. His wrist flicks were so subtle that Misaki's blockers often misread the play, allowing Natsume's spikers to land easy kills.
"Damn," Yuuto muttered. "That setter's tricky."
Renji narrowed his eyes, watching Shindo's movements carefully. The usual cues—the shift in his shoulders, the angle of his elbows—they were all misleading.
But then, after the third rally, Renji saw it.
A flick—just a fraction of a second before contact.
A signal.
Shindo's real sets were smooth, but his fakes had a slight extra movement in his wrist. It was small, almost invisible in the heat of play, but it was there.
Renji's pulse quickened. I can read this.
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Turning the Tide
The next time Shindo went for a fake, Renji reacted instantly.
Instead of shifting with the blockers, he dropped lower, anticipating the true spike direction.
Boom.
The ball smacked against his arms with a sharp thud—a perfect dig.
The crowd let out a murmur of surprise.
Yuuto seized the moment, setting up Misaki's ace for a devastating counterattack.
Point, Misaki.
Shindo blinked in shock.
Renji exhaled, a small smirk forming. Got you.
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Match Point
As the set neared its climax, Renji continued to intercept Natsume's disguised attacks.
Every time Shindo attempted a fake, Renji was already in position, sending the ball soaring back into play.
"Damn," one of Natsume's players muttered. "He's reading us too fast!"
With one final save, Misaki turned defense into offense—Yuuto's set, their ace's spike, and—
The whistle blew.
Misaki High won.
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Post-Match Celebration
Cheers erupted from their side of the court.
Renji wiped sweat from his forehead, still catching his breath.
"Renji!"
He barely had time to react before Asuka appeared beside him, grinning.
"That was amazing!" She grabbed his hand, squeezing it in excitement.
Renji froze.
Her fingers were warm against his, lingering for a second longer than expected.
He swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how close she was.
Asuka, still smiling, gave his hand one last squeeze before stepping back.
"Keep playing like that, and you'll carry us to the finals."
Renji nodded stiffly, his brain short-circuiting. "R-Right."
Yuuto passed by, smirking. "You're blushing again."
Renji groaned, shoving his face into his towel.
Even as the team celebrated, Asuka's warmth still lingered in his mind.
And for the first time in a while, he didn't mind it at all.
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End of Chapter 33
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To Be Continue