The stadium lights were still cooling when Seiwa left the court, sweat-streaked and drained from the five-set battle against Seiyo High.
Renji walked slower than the rest, his jersey clinging to him like a second skin. Every muscle in his legs throbbed, but the win still pulsed warm in his chest.
Asuka met them at the tunnel. "That," she said, "was the kind of match that makes people remember your names."
Yuuto smirked. "Good. I like being remembered."
Renji only smiled faintly. In the corner of his mind, though, a question had already formed: Who's next?
---
Scouting the Semifinal
The team gathered in the small media room after a quick cool-down. The big screen flickered to life.
On it was a team none of them had seen before in the tournament—at least not on the main courts.
Arakawa Prep.
Their uniforms were black with sharp white stripes, their playstyle aggressive but… unorthodox. The footage showed players diving for impossible saves, delivering unpredictable sets, and serving from strange angles.
Arai frowned. "These guys are… weird."
Asuka nodded. "They're ranked outside the top ten in the prefecture, yet here they are in the semifinals. That means they've beaten teams ranked far above them. That means they're dangerous."
Yuuto leaned forward. "So what's their weapon? Who's their ace?"
Asuka paused the footage on a single frame.
The player was tall but not towering, lean with sharp, fox-like eyes. His serve motion was loose and casual—almost lazy. But the ball in the clip had just exploded past three defenders untouched.
"Nao Yamasaki," Asuka said.
Renji's breath caught.
---
Ghost from the Past
He knew that name.
Nao Yamasaki wasn't just another rival—he was a memory Renji had tried to bury. Back in middle school, during one of the rare times Renji had agreed to play in a casual summer tournament, Nao had been on the opposing side. That day, Nao had mocked Renji's quietness, calling him a "phantom who doesn't belong on the court."
Renji had lost that match. Badly. And afterward, he hadn't touched a volleyball for months.
Now, Nao was here. Older. Sharper. And in Seiwa's way.
Asuka's voice cut through his thoughts. "Their style is chaotic, but it revolves around Yamasaki. He controls the pace, disrupts defenses, and forces teams to make mistakes. We can't let him dictate the match."
Renji nodded slowly, masking the churn in his chest.
---
Training Day
The next morning's practice wasn't just about drills—it was about adaptation.
Kenta practiced digging unpredictable serves.
Arai worked on reading quick fakes from the middle.
Yuuto pushed his timing to hit from unexpected positions.
Renji… practiced patience. Asuka knew Arakawa would try to frustrate him, force rushed decisions. Every set had to be deliberate.
Between drills, Yuuto nudged him. "You know this guy?"
Renji hesitated. "…We've met."
Yuuto's grin was sharp. "Then let's crush him."
---
Evening Reflection
That night, Renji sat alone in his dorm room, watching old footage of Arakawa Prep. His eyes tracked every movement of Nao Yamasaki—the sly serves, the sudden smirks, the way he seemed to pull his team into rhythm like a puppeteer.
Renji clenched his fists.
This wasn't just about a semifinal match.
It was about proving something—to Nao, to himself, and to the ghost of the boy who once walked away from the game.
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End of Chapter 71
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To Be Continue