Chapter 27: The Match (3)

The situation on the court was unusually harmonious.

You score one point, I score one point. You hit it into the net, I hit it into the net. Back and forth, the score stayed locked in a constant deadlock.

Ryosuke frowned as he watched. Seeing his expression fall, Goshiki thought something might be wrong with him.
“Ryosuke, what’s wrong?”

Ryosuke shook his head without answering. Yunohama let out a cold laugh.
“Goshiki, you’re really dense. He’s just grossed out by this style of play.”

Ushijima frowned slightly.
“I feel the same way.”

Goshiki whipped his head around in shock.

Even heavy-hitting Ushijima-senpai thought so too?!

Suddenly, someone tugged at his clothes. Goshiki turned to see Ryosuke gripping his sleeve.
“Watch closely. There’s a technique coming up that you can steal.”

Hearing that, Shirabu and Ushijima both lowered their heads, looking at the two people squatting side by side on the floor.

“It’s coming! This one—watch carefully!”

They lifted their heads together and focused on the court.

JAL’s setter shook off two blockers. Their number five vice attacker quickly moved into position at the net, and the opposing number seven followed up to form the block.

It looked like number five was planning to use the blocker’s hands to hit a block-out.

But in that split second, the number seven on the other side seemed to see through it and suddenly pulled his left hand back, dodging away!

JAL’s spike failed to catch the blocker’s hand and flew straight out of bounds.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye. If Ryosuke hadn’t dragged Goshiki’s attention over, it would’ve been nearly impossible to see clearly at that speed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—so cool! How did he do that?!”

Goshiki jumped to his feet in excitement. The sudden rush of blood made him wobble, and he rubbed his eyes when his vision went dark for a moment, still shouting,
“What was that, what was that?! That was way too cool!”
He flailed his arms around, reenacting the brilliant moment from just now.

Even the coaches on the sidelines were praising that play. Coach Washijō shot a meaningful look at the group that was still chattering away.

Hmph. Hopefully these little brats learn something from it.

Kiuchi Kōzō patted Kōshi’s shoulder, not bothering to hide his pride.
“See? Our players aren’t bad, are they?”

Kōshi smiled back, not annoyed in the slightest.
“They’re good. Let them really grind down the edge on these little bastards today.
One or two of them are way too arrogant. They still need more training.”

Kiuchi Kōzō didn’t mind letting JAL use them as sparring partners. Even if a team lost, there were still plenty of bright spots to see.

Like right now—Ryosuke’s gaze was locked onto JAL’s libero, almost burning a hole through him.

JAL’s libero, Takuya Kenta, had practically gone numb from being stared at all match.

Ever since the first set, this Shiratorizawa underclassman had been watching him nonstop. Kenta felt that inescapable gaze hovering around him the entire time.

The second set was a prolonged tug-of-war, and this was exactly when the value of a strong libero became obvious. A powerful libero was the cornerstone that held the entire team up.

Every clean set and spike was built on the foundation of a solid first pass.

To a large extent, JAL’s libero was the reason they’d managed to close the score gap.

Yunohama had noticed Ryosuke’s intense focus long ago. Following his line of sight, he saw JAL’s libero and poked the fluffy top of Ryosuke’s head.

Sensing the movement, Ryosuke looked up blankly, met Yunohama’s gaze, then turned back toward the libero.

That unspoken understanding between close friends clicked instantly. Ryosuke tugged on Yunohama’s clothes.

Yunohama sighed and squatted down along with him.

Ryosuke whispered at his side,
“JAL’s libero is stronger than us. Stronger than Yamagata-senpai.
Look—no one even tries to take the ball. They just leave it to the libero. That’s not pushing responsibility onto him, it’s trust. And it shows how good he really is.”

After a brief pause, he continued,
“Remember our practice match before? If you and Goshiki had let me take every ball back then, maybe we could’ve won.”

Yunohama looked at him with a complicated expression and didn’t say anything. He hadn’t thought of it that way at the time either—who would’ve guessed this guy was basically a human tank?

From the way Ryosuke talked, it sounded like he actually envied that feeling—the feeling of being the one trusted to take every single ball.

Thinking that, Yunohama’s expression grew even more complicated. His buddy wasn’t just naturally sharp-tongued—he also had a bit of a masochistic streak.

On the court, the rally continued back and forth. 20–20. Five points left.

Both teams tacitly maintained this delicate balance.

They were all waiting for the final ball. That last ball would decide whether JAL lost with dignity—or not.

Everyone on JAL felt the pressure. Their volleyball path had been smooth sailing; back in middle school, they’d all been the chosen ones.

Two runner-up finishes had made them feel unstoppable. They’d stubbornly stayed together to keep playing volleyball, each of them convinced they’d be the one standing on top in the end.

JAL clenched the score tightly, bringing it to 25–24.

This final point—an unbelievably important one—was usually entrusted to the ace.

JAL’s number five vice attacker clenched his teeth and took the set from their precious setter, leaping high as two Shiratorizawa players closed in to block.

But matches are always full of surprises.

Ryosuke’s sharp eyes immediately caught that something was wrong. The number five soared up, aiming for a powerful swing.

The instant his hand touched the ball, his heart sank, and panic flashed across his face.

His palms were slick with sweat. Overwhelmed by nerves and the atmosphere of the match, he’d completely forgotten about it. At the moment of contact, he clearly felt the ball slip in his hand.

He could only watch as the ball dropped into the net. The opposing blockers didn’t react in time—and neither did the player wearing number five.

No one could have imagined that the match would end in such a dramatic way.

JAL’s number five covered his face with both hands and slumped toward the floor, tears spilling through his fingers.

Whether it was the sudden blow, or the helplessness of facing such a strong opponent, the result was the same—this practice match ended in an instant.

JAL rushed to comfort their self-blaming ace, while the Shiratorizawa university seniors drifted off the court and gathered around Coach Kiuchi, still buzzing with excitement as they walked.

As university students, they usually only played internal 3v3 matches outside of major competitions. Today’s match had them playing with an intensity that made it look like they were completely fired up, as if they’d taken something extra before stepping onto the court.