18:20
The gap was growing larger. Not only had they failed to score on the previous rally, Aobajosai had widened their lead instead. This set was becoming dangerous.
Tendō watched from the sidelines, practically itching to rush onto the court.
Coach Washijō noticed his impatience and found it rather amusing. This kid was usually lazy—seeing him so eager to play was a rare sight.
But Tendō wasn't only anxious to play.
After spending so long teaching Ryosuke how to block, he could clearly see that Ryosuke was already reaching his physical limit. Tendō wasn't sure if he could last until the end of the fourth set.
...
At the net, Ryosuke crouched down and let out a long breath.
He was exhausted.
His legs didn't feel like they could jump anymore. If he lifted his arms again, they felt like they might snap. Waves of soreness pulsed through his knees.
But none of it showed on his face.
He couldn't let even the slightest weakness appear.
Oikawa was the kind of person who lived for exploiting openings. If he noticed Ryosuke's condition, who knew what kind of trap he'd set next.
Ryosuke wiped the sweat from his forehead, shook out his legs, and stood up again.
Goshiki, carefree as ever, didn't notice Ryosuke's fatigue at all.
Ryosuke hid it too well.
Even Oikawa didn't notice.
Oikawa was actually a little puzzled. From what he knew of Ryosuke, he should have been exhausted by now.
Did I underestimate him?
No.
Earlier he had been talking with Iwaizumi and hadn't seen Ryosuke's legs trembling when he stood up. Ryosuke had hidden it perfectly.
Ryosuke loosened his legs.
Next was Oikawa-senpai's serve.
Even if he didn't have to receive it, he still needed to hold on.
He just had to endure until the end of this set.
...
Oikawa bounced the volleyball against the floor a few times before catching it again.
Then he looked up and locked onto Yamagata in Shiratorizawa's backcourt.
If Ryosuke wasn't going to break, then someone else had to.
Either a mistake… or someone losing their composure.
Oikawa hated to admit it, but Shiratorizawa was truly strong.
Especially that annoying Ushijima.
Kyotani stood at position three beside Iwaizumi, looking visibly uncomfortable.
When it came to Iwaizumi…
Kyotani knew when it was time to behave.
...
"Beep—!"
The whistle blew, and the crowd's rhythmic chant followed.
"Ooo—hey!"
Oikawa sprinted forward with the rhythm of the chant and struck the ball on the final beat.
"Bang!"
The serve shot forward at terrifying speed straight toward Yamagata.
At first glance, it looked like it had simply flown out of control from too much power.
But Oikawa would never allow the same mistake twice.
Even Yamagata immediately knew—
this wasn't a mistake.
The ball moved so fast that Shirabu could even feel the rush of air as it passed.
Reon and Ushijima instinctively stepped aside.
Yamagata bent low.
With his sharp eyesight, he noticed the ball was spinning.
There was no time to think.
After running nonstop for four sets, Yamagata was nearly collapsing from exhaustion. As the libero, he had the most running of anyone on the court.
At this point, all he could rely on was instinct.
His left knee slammed onto the floor with a loud thud.
Even Reon winced hearing it.
That knee was definitely going to bruise.
Yamagata thrust his arm forward.
He touched the ball—but the moment it hit his arm, he knew something was wrong.
For a fraction of a second, the ball seemed to stick.
Then the spin pulled it away from his arm.
Yamagata cursed under his breath and turned his head.
The ball had already flown out of bounds.
"Beep—!"
Yamagata sighed.
He really didn't want to keep running around receiving balls anymore.
Too exhausting.
Ryosuke thought the same thing.
I really don't want to jump anymore… I'm exhausted.
The two miserable souls locked eyes for a moment.
Both saw the same misery in the other's eyes.
...
Oikawa prepared for his second serve.
"Ooo—hey!"
"Bang!"
By the fourth set, almost everyone was tired. Even Oikawa's jumps and swings were becoming heavier.
This time, he actually made a mistake.
The angle was off, and the ball flew straight toward Goshiki.
Goshiki stood there blankly.
Huh?
Should I receive that?
Seeing this, Ryosuke was already ready to move in.
From the backcourt, Yamagata sprinted forward.
They were already down by three points.
They had to save this ball.
"Move!"
Yamagata shouted for Goshiki to get out of the way.
Goshiki scrambled aside.
Ryosuke reacted immediately and pulled him away.
In the exact moment Goshiki moved—
the ball and Yamagata collided at the spot he had just been standing.
"Bang!"
Yamagata dove forward without even looking up.
But from the feeling on the back of his hand—
he knew he had touched the ball.
The ball shot upward.
And it floated dangerously close to the net.
Both teams instantly locked onto it.
If the angle was wrong, it would become a contested ball.
Everyone stared at the falling ball.
Players from both sides rushed forward.
Then suddenly—
"Thud!"
The ball hit the floor.
Everyone stopped, confused.
Ryosuke turned his head in shock.
Hadn't he heard a palm strike the ball?
He looked over—
and saw Goshiki standing there.
Goshiki's eyes were shining with excitement.
The moment he saw the ball earlier, he had felt the same strange instinct as before.
That ball would score.
He just knew it.
The arc was perfect for a tip.
Aobajosai were all staring at where the ball would fall.
No one was watching him.
So Goshiki simply reached out—
and tapped the ball cleanly over the net.
"Beep—!"
"Nice one, Goshiki!"
"GOOOOSHIKI!"
Yamagata cheered loudly.
He thought his desperate save would fail—
but Goshiki's move was incredible.
...
When the referee awarded the point to Shiratorizawa, the Aobajosai players' expressions darkened.
Oikawa looked the worst.
Damn it.
That kid always looked so clueless, yet he kept ruining everything at the worst possible moment.
Where did he even come from?
Oikawa had been sure they would take at least three points.
Instead, they had just given one away.
Still annoyed, he returned to position.
...
Now it was Ryosuke's turn to serve.
Before serving, he rotated his shoulder.
His arm felt heavy.
He had originally planned to serve a few hook shots, but he abandoned the idea.
It wasn't pain.
He simply didn't have the strength to raise his arm that many times.
Ryosuke tossed the ball, took six steps, and jumped.
"Bang!"
Watari raised an eyebrow.
Oh?
No hook serve?
He had almost gotten used to that style.
Now Ryosuke suddenly switched to a jump serve.
Sneaky guy.
Ryosuke's jump serve couldn't compare to Ushijima's power.
But compared to Reon's, it was basically a freshman version of his serve.
Watari ran forward to receive.
Compared to the hook serve, this jump serve was actually easier.
After dealing with Ushijima's serves all match, Watari's resistance to pressure had grown a lot.
If he ever became a libero for real, Ushijima, Ryosuke, and Oikawa would deserve the credit.
Watari slid forward on his knees and received the ball smoothly.
"Oikawa!"
Oikawa glanced back at Watari, then looked toward Ryosuke.
Ryosuke still hadn't stopped focusing on Mad Dog.
Oikawa grinned.
Because the ball was close to the net, he casually flicked it with his left hand.
Goshiki had already guessed what he wanted to do and rushed in to block.
Oikawa glanced at him teasingly.
Then the ball dropped lightly onto the court.
"Beep—!"
19:22
The score difference was still three points.
Little by little, Aobajosai had pulled Shiratorizawa into their rhythm.
First they targeted players individually.
Then together.
From Goshiki…
to Ryosuke…
to Yamagata…
Oikawa really was someone who planned three steps ahead.
Shiratorizawa's pace had been completely dragged into Aobajosai's tempo.
Faster and faster.
One rally after another.
...
On the bench, Coach Washijō frowned.
He could see the problem clearly.
But Shirabu—the one responsible for controlling the tempo—hadn't noticed anything.
At moments like this, the advantages and disadvantages of Shiratorizawa's training system became obvious.
The advantage:
Every player had a strong will to win.
Any one of them could be a star at another school.
The disadvantage:
Years of Washijō's strict teaching had made the upperclassmen rigid in their thinking.
They followed his instructions exactly.
But they didn't develop their own initiative.
And Shirabu…
was a setter raised purely to sacrifice himself for the ace.
Why would you expect a sacrificial setter to control the rhythm of the match?
Washijō sighed deeply.
It's my fault.
I trained these kids to be just as rigid and dull as me.
For the first time in a long while—
he felt real regret.
...
Now it was Iwaizumi's turn to serve.
His goal was simple.
End the set in one push.
But Shiratorizawa still had Yamagata in the backcourt.
Not easy.
"Bang!"
Unlike Oikawa's flashy style, Iwaizumi's serve was simple.
He practiced the same serve again and again until it became instinct.
It looked ordinary.
But it was extremely fast and powerful.
Even if you knew how to receive it—
you might not have the strength to stop it.
Yamagata gritted his teeth.
Seriously.
Aobajosai were all monsters.
At this stage of the game, they could still serve like this?
Ridiculous.
He dove forward.
Too tired to even lift his head.
"Thump!"
His chin slammed against the floor.
His head buzzed.
But it didn't matter.
I can still play.
He lifted his head and reached out.
But—
the ball landed just short of his hand.
"Beep—!"
The Aobajosai stands exploded.
"Iwa-chan is amazing!"
"Seijoh! Seijoh! The best!"
"Iwa-chan! Another one!"
They were now four points ahead near set point.
The crowd was ecstatic.
Reon ran over and helped Yamagata up.
"You okay?"
Yamagata rubbed his chin gloomily.
That moment when he hit the floor had distracted him—
and it cost him the point.
Ryosuke and Goshiki looked worried.
Especially Goshiki.
Just hearing that chin hit the floor had sounded painful.
Yamagata waved them off.
Then put his hands on his hips.
"What are you staring at?"
"I'm Yamagata, the libero!"
"There's no way I'd get hurt!"
Reon sighed.
Fine.
Let him brag.
...
Iwaizumi prepared to serve again.
Yamagata felt his scalp tighten.
He had already talked big.
He had to receive this one.
"Bang!"
Iwaizumi served right at the eight-second limit.
Yamagata focused completely.
But the ball began to drop strangely after crossing the net.
Huh?
Even a mistake shouldn't look like that.
Yamagata rushed forward.
Just as he prepared to receive—
he saw a pair of feet.
Ushijima.
Both of them froze.
If Ushijima received, he might collide with Yamagata.
If he stepped back, it might already be too late.
They just stared at each other.
"Thud."
The ball dropped.
"Beep—!"
Yamagata grabbed his hair in frustration.
"Ushijima! What were you doing?!"
"If you had just moved or received it, this wouldn't have happened!"
Ushijima looked innocent.
"If I stepped back, and you failed to receive it, I would block Ryosuke's view."
Behind him, Ryosuke popped his head out awkwardly.
At the same time, he secretly twisted Ushijima's waist.
You were the one spacing out!
Why am I the scapegoat?!
Ushijima had indeed been daydreaming.
He had been wondering why the serve was aimed at him.
Before he finished thinking, the ball had already arrived.
Feeling the pain from Ryosuke twisting his waist, his expression briefly twisted before returning to normal.
"Then why didn't you receive it?!" Yamagata shouted.
"If I received it, I would have crashed into you."
Yamagata fell silent.
If Ushijima had collided with him…
his smaller frame might have sent him straight off the court.
So… was he supposed to thank him instead?
...
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