The gym was buzzing long before the first serve.
The black-and-white jerseys of Arakawa Prep moved like shadows on the opposite side of the court, their warm-ups loose, almost lazy. But every so often, a flash of precision—a perfectly timed spike or a serve that skimmed the line—reminded everyone why they'd made it this far.
Renji stood at the baseline with his teammates, eyes locked on one figure.
Nao Yamasaki.
The "fox" smirked the second he noticed Renji staring. He tossed the ball up in warm-up and sent it spinning into the far corner of Seiwa's side—just inside the line. It wasn't meant for practice. It was a message.
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First Serve – First Strike
The whistle blew.
Arakawa won the toss and, naturally, Nao stepped up to serve first.
Renji crouched low, ready for anything.
The toss looked ordinary. The swing looked casual.
Then the ball curved mid-air like it had a mind of its own, clipping the sideline before Kenta could even react.
"Service ace, Arakawa Prep!" the announcer called.
Nao smirked wider, mouthing something across the court. Renji couldn't hear it, but he didn't need to. He knew it was a taunt.
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Chaos Unleashed
From the very first rally, Arakawa's strategy was obvious—they didn't have a strategy.
One play was a lightning-fast quick through the middle.
The next was a high lob set to the outside.
Then a sudden tip over the block.
They kept switching tempos, never letting Seiwa settle.
Yuuto slammed a spike down the line, only for Arakawa's libero to sprawl and somehow keep it alive. The ball ricocheted off a knee, a shoulder, and finally into a clean set for Nao, who—of course—finished the point with a cheeky tip over Renji's block.
Seiwa trailed 5–1.
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Renji's Struggle
Renji hated it—not the score, but the way Nao played. Every move seemed designed to mock him. No matter where Renji was, Nao's shots seemed to find the gaps he wasn't covering.
Between plays, Nao even spoke loud enough for Renji to hear.
"Still slow, huh?"
"Thought you'd have improved by now."
Renji kept his expression blank, but his grip on his knees tightened.
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The Turning Point
During a timeout, Coach Sato's voice cut through the noise.
"They want you to play on their rhythm. Stop chasing. Make them chase you."
Asuka added from the bench, "Renji, he's not untouchable. If he's unpredictable, be unpredictable back."
Renji's eyes lifted.
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Back to the Court
On the next rally, instead of his usual steady pass, Renji floated a short set to Yuuto from the back row—a play they rarely used. Yuuto blasted it straight down, catching Arakawa off guard.
Next serve, Renji called for a quick in the middle, then at the last second pushed it outside to Arai, who tipped it just beyond Nao's reach.
The scoreboard ticked up. 5–3.
For the first time, Nao's smirk faltered.
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The Fox's Response
But Nao wasn't done. He started playing faster, riskier, and wilder, doubling down on the chaos. The rallies turned into scrambles, the court into a battlefield of instinct and reflex.
The crowd roared with every crazy save, every impossible dig.
And in the middle of it all—Renji's eyes never left Nao.
This wasn't just about the semifinals anymore.
It was a duel.
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End of Chapter 72
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To Be Continue