The Updates of this Novel Might delay as I need to add 50 Chapters
i.e., upto 170+ Chapters in one day I'll Add All The Chapters
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"Oh? Really?" Tetsurō Kuroo raised an eyebrow, glancing at the schedule in his hand. "Matsuyama Nishi Biz from Okayama versus Shirahama High from Chiba, huh?"
He smirked, nudging Daichi Sawamura. "Watching game tapes is one thing, but nothing beats seeing it live. You catch all the little changes—new tricks, new vibes."
Daichi nodded, his eyes scanning the bustling Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium. "Thanks for the heads-up."
Kuroo clapped his shoulder, grin widening. "Haha! While we're scoping out Fukurōdani's match, we'll keep an eye on that Group C game for you. Gotta know who you're facing next, right?"
"Appreciate it," Daichi said, accepting the offer with a firm nod. Karasuno couldn't afford to miss any edge at the Inter High.
As they spoke, the warm-up period ended. The announcer's voice boomed, signaling the start of the first batch of matches. Four courts sprang to life, each hosting a clash of skill and will. The crowd's cheers swelled, banners waving like battle flags.
Among the games, Oga Daifu High from Akita versus Takagiyama High from Aichi stole the spotlight. Oga Daifu, a veteran powerhouse, faced Takagiyama, a frequent national contender. Their match was a slugfest, rallies stretching long as both teams traded ferocious spikes and desperate dives. The score seesawed, each point hard-won. In the end, Oga Daifu's experience tipped the scales, clinching a 2-1 victory after the longest match of the batch.
Karasuno's players watched, wide-eyed, as the court cleared. Shōyō Hinata bounced on his toes, buzzing with excitement. "That was insane! Did you see that last block?"
Tobio Kageyama frowned, analyzing. "Their setter was predictable. We could've exploited that."
"Focus, you two," Daichi called, waving them over. "Time to warm up."
They bid a quick goodbye to Nekoma's team, who'd come to scout. Taketora Yamamoto gave a theatrical wave, shouting, "Don't choke out there, Karasuno!" Morisuke Yaku elbowed him, muttering, "Let them focus, idiot."
Warm-up time was precious, and Karasuno hustled to the designated rear area. The second batch of matches was about to begin, and Fukurōdani Academy, Tokyo's second seed, was up. Their strength was undeniable, and the crowd knew it.
On the court, Fukurōdani's match was a masterclass in dominance. Kōtarō Bokuto, their ace, was a force of nature. His spikes tore through the opponent's defense, each hit a blend of power and precision. No matter how tightly the other team blocked, Bokuto found a way—cross shots, line shots, even a cheeky feint that left the libero sprawling. Fukurōdani cruised to a 2-0 victory, barely breaking a sweat.
The commentators couldn't stop praising Bokuto. "That's the top-five ace in action!" one enthused. The stands erupted, chants of "Bo-ku-to!" echoing. Even Nekoma, watching from the sidelines, was impressed.
"Bokuto's in his groove," Yaku said, grinning. "That's a scary rhythm."
Kenma Kozume, eyes on his phone, mumbled, "He's always like that. Annoying."
Meanwhile, another Group C match—Matsuyama Nishi Biz versus Shirahama High—neared its end. "Look!" Yaku pointed, voice sharp. "It's wrapping up!"
Karasuno's potential next opponent was about to emerge. Matsuyama Nishi Biz overwhelmed Shirahama with crisp serves and a suffocating block, securing a 2-0 win. Their efficiency was chilling, their players moving with practiced ease.
Kuroo whistled, his tone light but his eyes serious. "Well, damn. That's a solid team. They got a fight coming."
"If Karasuno wins their first round," Yaku added, "Matsukawa's next. Not an easy draw."
As the third batch approached, excitement surged. Taketora Yamamoto's voice cut through the noise, spotting Karasuno entering. "There's Tanaka!"
"Hey! Come on, Tanaka!" he bellowed, sprinting toward Karasuno's side. "I'm betting on you!"
Ryūnosuke Tanaka, Karasuno's wing spiker, grinned despite his nerves. "Ah, Yamamoto, you loudmouth! Watch me shine!" He pumped a fist, his bravado masking the butterflies in his stomach.
Across the court, Sarukawa Tech High filed in, their dark blue jerseys striking under the lights. A matching blue ribbon adorned each player's head, a symbol of team pride. But their expressions betrayed tension. Iori Kanazawa wiped sweat from his brow, muttering, "Not my first nationals, so why am I still freaking out?"
His teammate, Hisahiko Wakura, chuckled nervously. "Same, man. Feels like the whole world's watching."
With live TV broadcasts and a packed gymnasium, the pressure was immense. Every serve, every spike, would be scrutinized by thousands. Even pre-game video analysis couldn't fully prepare them for the real thing.
Karasuno felt it too. Hinata's usual bounce was jittery, and Kageyama's focus seemed almost too intense. But Keishin Ukai, their coach, stepped up. "Don't panic!" he shouted, hands cupped around his mouth. "Remember last night's tapes! You know their plays!"
His voice was a lifeline. Karasuno's players steadied, their restless glances settling into sharp focus. Hinata cracked his knuckles, Kageyama adjusted his stance, and Tanaka roared, "Let's do this!"
Sarukawa Tech, though, felt Karasuno's gaze. "They're staring," Kanazawa whispered, covering his mouth. "Creepy."
Itaru Shiramine, Sarukawa's captain, forced a laugh. "They're probably more nervous than us. Remember your first nationals? Bet they're shaking."
Wakura grinned, relaxing. "Oh, yeah. I dropped a serve once, and Wajima Senpai chewed me out. Said he was nervous too, but his legs were shaking!"
"Wajima? Shaking?" Kanazawa laughed. "No way."
Their banter eased the tension, and Sarukawa's players met Karasuno's stares with growing confidence. If Karasuno was rattled, they'd capitalize.
But Aritaka Shishio, Sarukawa's coach, wasn't so sure. Karasuno's composure surprised him. "They're not crumbling," he muttered, fists clenched. The tactics he'd planned—targeting Karasuno's weaker links—might not hold. "Stick to the plan," he called. "Avoid their number 7! Focus on the others. Grind them down with our defense—it's top-tier. Number 7 can't carry them alone. No one can do it all."
"Yes, Coach!" Sarukawa's players nodded, rallying.
On the commentary booth, the announcers' voices rose. "Karasuno High School versus Sarukawa Tech High School! The match begins!"
The whistle blew, and the gymnasium roared. Karasuno and Sarukawa locked eyes across the net, each side braced for a battle that would test their preparation, nerve, and heart.