They took the first point right off the opening rally.
It was an incredibly thrilling point—an electrifying first score that lifted everyone's spirits.
Goshiki shouted excitedly, "Again! One more!"
Ryosuke tossed the ball, took a few quick steps, and sprang upward in a flash, as if he had wings on his back.
It was a powerful jump serve, but the angle wasn't ideal, and it failed to disrupt the first pass.
Semi moved into position immediately and jumped to set. At the instant he contacted the ball, his left hand snapped down sharply.
Goshiki was completely thrown off by Semi's feint. Yunohama was still at position three, while Ryosuke rushed forward from the backcourt.
He dove headlong, barely saving the ball with a flying dig.
"Yunohama!"
Yunohama's brain hadn't quite caught up yet, but his legs were already moving, switching from position three to position two.
Goshiki rotated to position four, ready to spike.
His attack was blocked by Reon. The whistle blew—point to the purple team.
Now it was Reon's turn to serve. He deliberately aimed at Goshiki, clearly trying to keep Ryosuke from touching the ball.
The serve came over. Ryosuke hooked Goshiki out of the way in one smooth motion, swapped positions with him, and leaned forward to receive.
Reon's face went a shade greener. A bad feeling crept up on him.
Just like before, Goshiki's spike was brushed once by the block. Reon leapt and went for an overhand spike.
By the time Goshiki reacted, it was already too late. The ball skimmed the tape and dropped straight down—
Only to be dug up by Ryosuke, who had somehow wandered into position at just the right moment.
That was when Reon finally realized what was wrong.
This kid—he's way too good at receiving! He was single-handedly dragging down Reon's scoring rate. No wonder Yamagata had said the dignity of the regulars was riding on him.
A wave of gasps rippled through the stands.
Clearly, no one had expected this No. 11 to be such a solid receiver, able to go rally for rally under Reon's attacks.
If Coach Washijō had heard that, he would have only snorted. This was just the beginning.
In the stands, a group of students in green uniforms whispered among themselves.
"Iwa, Iwa—he's a libero and he's 1.80 meters tall."
"Shut up, you idiot, Oikawa! Watch the match!"
Oikawa instantly fell silent.
The two teams traded points back and forth until the score reached 12–15. From the bench, Coach Washijō called a timeout.
The moment Ryosuke stepped off the court, Coach Washijō caught him immediately.
"Receive properly! The court's huge—you can run anywhere! Why are you holding back? Look at how many points slipped past you!"
Goshiki, who had followed behind, was snickering under his breath—only to be called out the next second.
"And you too, Goshiki! What are you laughing at? Didn't eat enough today? No power at all! What was that straight shot you just hit?! Blah blah blah—"
Yunohama was scolded along with them, and by the end of it, Goshiki looked like he was questioning his entire existence.
Only Ryosuke stood there thick-skinned and unfazed.
Coach Washijō glared at the three of them.
"Play properly! If you can't, get off the court and warm the bench!"
"Yes, sir!"
After the lecture, the three headed back onto the court, glancing at one another.
In the end, it was the socially awkward cat who spoke first.
"Just focus on playing. Any ball that comes to our side—I'll get it."
A fierce fire burned in his eyes.
Goshiki looked at his teammate, deeply moved. It was the first time he'd ever heard Ryosuke say so much.
Back on the court, the third freshman looked completely fired up after being chewed out.
Yamagata couldn't help but laugh.
"Coach Washijō must've really let them have it."
Semi wiped his face with a towel.
"You're not wrong. Those three brats are pretty capable.
Come on, our turn."
What followed genuinely opened the eyes of both the spectators and Reon's side.
After returning to the court, Ryosuke followed Coach Washijō's instructions to the letter, sprinting all over the court without hesitation.
Goshiki and Yunohama were like heavy artillery at the front, smashing anything that came their way, while Ryosuke covered every gap in the backcourt.
Once again, he dug up a ball that had been blocked back off Goshiki's attack, pushed off hard with the ball of his left foot, and delivered a perfect first pass.
Perfect—so perfect that Yunohama didn't even need to move. The ball went straight up.
Reon felt utterly exhausted. Why was this kid so hard to deal with? A glance at the scoreboard showed that, without anyone noticing, the score had closed to 14–15.
They hadn't scored a single point in the meantime.
Reon finally put away his last bit of complacency and got serious.
Semi glanced back at him, arched his back, and sent a lightning-fast back set. The ball flew cleanly into Reon's hands.
Off the court, Shirabu watched with an unreadable expression.
Reon put everything he had into that spike, aiming for the unguarded baseline in the backcourt.
Bang—the ball flew off.
At the same moment, Ryosuke, relying on his uncanny sense of space, had already predicted where it would land.
He burst forward, dug the ball, rolled to bleed off the impact, and saved it. The ball popped straight up above Yunohama.
Goshiki rushed into position, but Yunohama went for a second-touch attack and scored.
"Aaaah! Pass it to me!" Goshiki complained loudly.
Yunohama glanced at him calmly.
"Next one's yours. Nice receive, Ryosuke."
Praised like that, Ryosuke pressed his lips together shyly, smiling to himself.
From then on, Reon truly experienced what helplessness felt like.
Every ball that seemed sure to score was dug up by Ryosuke.
Ryosuke ran all over the court, dragging each rally out to five or six exchanges.
Reon's expression twisted. Up to now, his spikes had only earned four points, while more than a dozen had been picked up by Ryosuke.
Disgusting… curses flooded his mind nonstop.
In the stands, Oikawa clutched his stomach.
"Ugh… watching that kind of receiving is painful."
His face had gone green.
Iwaizumi smacked Oikawa on the head with a fist.
"Don't drag me into this, you idiot!"
The others watching had noticed something was off as well—especially the coaches from the other schools. Their gazes burned as they locked onto Coach Washijō,
practically trying to stare holes through him.