Chapter 107 - 111

Chapter 107

Not long after, Reon returned with the others in tow. Each of them looked wilted and dispirited, like a mother hen herding a flock of chicks.

They stood obediently together, clearly having just been “dealt with.” Reon’s head started to ache the moment he looked at them, so he simply stopped looking.

Tendo and Yamagata were still whispering to each other, and for a moment, the atmosphere turned quiet.

After a short while, Coach Washijō arrived with the advisor. He had already seen Reon running all over the arena looking for people earlier—no doubt this bunch had been stirring up trouble again.

Coach Washijō didn’t say much. He just waved them inside.

Only then did everyone finally let out a sigh of relief and file out one by one.

Entering through the back door and turning left led straight to the court where they would soon be playing. Tsutomu Goshiki stretched his head out for a look. Both sides of the stands were already packed. Shiratorizawa’s supporters had hung up banners and were holding cheer sticks and streamers, waiting eagerly.

Surrounded by ribbons and thunderous cheers, the court looked like a stage. In Tsutomu Goshiki’s eyes, it seemed to spin endlessly—this was his first appearance in front of such a massive crowd since joining Shiratorizawa.

He was thrilled. But after watching Karasuno’s match against Aobajosai, his head had cooled a little.

He was still thinking about the game in the other venue and quietly asked Ryosuke, “Do you think we can still catch the final set over there?”

Before Ryosuke could answer, Yunohama cut in sharply, “Are you stupid? Even if we finish fast, there’s no way we’d make it in time.”

Tsutomu Goshiki snorted and turned away in a huff. Ryosuke sighed inwardly. Sure enough, distance makes things look better—once you share a dorm room, conflicts start popping up everywhere.

Ryosuke had also been thinking about that match. He reached over and patted Tsutomu Goshiki on the head.

“It’s fine. Even if it’s over, we can watch it later. With how strong those two schools are, no matter who loses, we’ll definitely face them again.”

“What are you guys talking about?”

Yamagata noticed the three huddled together and tried to join their little private channel.

Yunohama answered succinctly, “The match just now.”

The moment he said that, Yamagata’s expression turned resentful. Kawanishi had bothered him so much last night that he hadn’t slept well. When he missed part of today’s match, he’d accidentally dozed off for a bit.

He had woken up groggily on the bench just in time to see Yunohama dragging two people away at full speed. He hadn’t even had time to shout before glancing at the clock—cold sweat instantly ran down his back.

Yunohama also remembered leaving Yamagata behind in the stands and awkwardly looked away, pretending he had no idea what anyone was talking about.

“What are you all crowding around for? Get inside!”

Coach Washijō glared at the group blocking the doorway, his head starting to throb again. To outsiders, Shiratorizawa carried the aura of kings. But those inside the volleyball club knew the truth—this was just a bunch of blockheads. More than a dozen people, and every last bit of their brainpower had gone into volleyball.

“Hey, don’t shove me, Semi!”

“Ow! Who stepped on my foot?!”

“Ah—sorry, Kawanishi-senpai!”

Coach Washijō: …………

“Move it!” He kicked at them one by one like he was herding chicks.

If Shiratorizawa’s diehard fans saw this, their majestic image would shatter beyond repair.

Luckily, the back entrance was partially blocked by the stands. Otherwise, their reputation would’ve been completely ruined.

Coach Washijō: What a bunch of embarrassments.

The audience had sharp eyes. The moment they spotted Shiratorizawa in their white-and-purple uniforms walking out from beneath the stands, the arena exploded.

“Boom boom boom! Shiratorizawa! Shiratorizawa!”

Amid the deafening cheers, Ryosuke even heard drumbeats. He looked up in surprise and immediately saw a large drum placed at the very front of the stands.

Reon, standing behind him, reached out to turn his head back—but it was already too late. The girls in the stands erupted into screams.

“Ahhhh! He’s so cute!” One girl covered her face and stomped wildly, completely flustered.

“Holy crap, that’s the guy who scored four or five points in a row with his serve yesterday!”

“Ahhhh! Shiratorizawa!”

“Ryosuke! Ryosuke!”

“Ahhhh! Shiratorizawa!”

Ryosuke hadn’t expected that single glance to have such impact. He even heard someone calling his name. It hadn’t felt like much before, but once he heard his name being shouted, he suddenly felt like everyone was staring at him.

That string of serves yesterday had made him famous in one go. He himself hadn’t realized it, but the audience certainly had.

The cat immediately grew sensitive, glancing around nervously. Seeing Ushijima-senpai walking at the very front, he slowly shuffled backward and hid behind Reon’s broad back.

Reon glanced at him with amusement, gloating, “Serves you right for looking around.”

“Tch.” Ryosuke shot back. He could banter with the seniors easily now—nothing like when he had first joined Shiratorizawa and could barely squeeze out a sentence all day.

Wakutani entered as well. Watching Shiratorizawa bathed in cheers, they couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

The setter muttered gloomily, “They really are the kings… We don’t stand a chance.”

The captain, wearing the jersey marked with a horizontal stripe, gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

“Relax. This is something we have to go through. Look—those are our supporters over there.”

The setter looked up and heard the Wakutani stands cheering.

“Wakutani! Wakutani! Go! Go!”

That made him feel a little better. Of course he knew most people were here for Shiratorizawa. He also knew Wakutani had come this far largely because their captain had carried them.

But…

Looking at the center of the roaring crowd—

He still wanted to win.

Shaking off his thoughts, they began warming up.

Ryosuke and Tsutomu Goshiki squatted together, whispering about something. Reon quietly walked over and caught what they were saying.

“That’s Pineapple Head, right? So cool! I want that hairstyle too!”

Ryosuke nodded guiltily. “Yeah… it’s… pretty cool.”

“Then let’s get it cut after the match! My hair’s grown out anyway!”

Reon’s mouth twitched. Only then did he notice the player across the court with a braided hairstyle that had puffed out wildly—it really did resemble a pineapple.

But that wasn’t the point.

He truly couldn’t imagine Tsutomu Goshiki’s delicate face paired with such a ferocious hairstyle.

He lightly kicked Tsutomu Goshiki. “Go warm up. And stop entertaining dangerous ideas. If you actually get a pineapple head, Coach Washijō will shave you bald the next day.”

Tsutomu Goshiki clutched his head in horror, eyes wide with disbelief. Urged along by Reon, the two of them headed onto the court.

Across the net, Wakutani’s two middle blockers were warming up while sneaking glances at Shiratorizawa.

“Hey, Narita, do you think we’ll win today?”

Narita caught the ball and replied, “No idea… but it really doesn’t seem possible.”

Todo sighed without saying anything. Wakutani’s run might very well end here.

Captain Takeru Nakajima strode over and gave each of them a solid smack on the back—the sound alone made it seem painful.

“Enough! You’re backing down before we’ve even started. If we lose, we lose. Being able to face Shiratorizawa is already an honor!”

Takeru Nakajima’s gaze passed through the net and landed on Shiratorizawa as they warmed up. The urge to compete burned in his chest.

Tsutomu Goshiki would be playing this match. Reon still felt uneasy, afraid he might crumble under pressure. He followed behind him, nagging nonstop.

Yamagata glanced over and teased, “You really are like a mom.”

Kawanishi nodded. “+1.”

As if he had eyes on the back of his head, Reon suddenly turned and glared at them.

Yamagata instantly wiped the grin off his face and began bouncing the ball seriously.

Kawanishi’s usual expressionless face saved him.

Tsutomu Goshiki tossed the volleyball up and slammed it down like in practice.

“Bang!”

Watching Karasuno’s match earlier had made him think. In the past, he might not have taken Wakutani seriously. But after seeing that game, he understood—

Every school, every team, deserved respect. They all loved volleyball. No one was inferior.

It had to be said—Ryosuke’s little scheme had worked perfectly.

Before the match even began, Tsutomu Goshiki’s lingering pride had already been reined in.

On the other side, Watari watched him warily. That last spike had been no joke. Shiratorizawa’s freshmen were fierce, one after another.

Fifteen minutes of warm-up passed quickly. The two teams bowed and took their positions.

The arena roared again.

Ryosuke sat in a row with Semi and Kawanishi to watch. He actually wanted to go check on the match next door, but their team was still playing—there was no way he could sneak off. If Coach Washijō found out, he’d be done for.

He wondered if he’d get to play in the third set.

If there was a third set, he probably would.

Ushijima’s luck at the toss was, as always, hopeless. On the other side, Takeru Nakajima held the ball and walked to the service line.

“Let’s go, Takeru! Let’s go!”

“Go, Wakutani!”

In the stands, an elderly man with a megaphone led his whole family in cheering. A young mother even held a child while shouting encouragement.

Kawanishi let out a small “Wow.”

“Are those all Takeru’s family?”

“Probably,” Semi replied casually.

One hand quietly slipped into Kawanishi’s backpack, rummaging around.

Ryosuke turned and saw it, just about to speak—when Semi stuffed an entire chocolate bar into his hand.

Ryosuke blinked and decided to keep quiet. He knew Semi would only take snacks anyway. And besides, aside from Coach Washijō, Semi was the only person in Shiratorizawa who knew he loved chocolate.

When he was seven or eight and losing his baby teeth, Ryosuke had become obsessed with chocolate, to the point that his cavities were severe. Since then, Coach Washijō had stopped indulging him. Even now, eating chocolate required stealth.

Ryosuke lowered his head to look at the chocolate, then quietly shifted his gaze to the court, pretending he’d seen nothing.

For the sake of the chocolate, he’d let it slide.

He let the chocolate melt in his mouth. The rich cocoa flavor spread across his tongue, and he narrowed his eyes in satisfaction.

“Hm?”

Watching Takeru Nakajima serve, Ryosuke felt a strange sense of familiarity and looked more closely.

That style…

Takeru struck the ball with a “bang.” It wasn’t particularly fast, but it flew high and deep.

Ryosuke suddenly realized—wasn’t this regular serve almost the same as Udai-senpai’s?

Without noticing, his attention became fully fixed on the court.

For Yamagata, the serve wasn’t hard to receive, though tilting his neck back was a bit uncomfortable. It wasn’t as high as a powerful jump serve, but it definitely wasn’t low.

He adjusted with quick steps.

“Bang!”

A perfect first pass.

Recently, Yamagata had been training to deliver a flawless first pass no matter what kind of ball came his way—like Ryosuke. That way, no one in the back row would need to constantly split their attention worrying about him.

Shirabu ran to the right side of the net and set to Ushijima.

In yesterday’s match, Ushijima hadn’t spiked much—Kawanishi had taken the spotlight.

Ushijima spread his arms and leapt, arching in midair like a crescent moon. His arm cut down through the air.

“Bang!”

Narita and Todo rushed to block. They could clearly see the direction of Ushijima’s swing.

Both tightened their arms and jumped. Watari, the pineapple-haired wing spiker, joined in—a triple block.

But compared to Date Tech’s iron wall, it still fell short.

Ushijima’s left-handed spikes were defined by sheer power and heavy spin. Unless it was Date Tech’s iron wall or Mujinazaka’s twin towers, ordinary blocks would be blown apart by his attacks.

Of course, Ryosuke and Tendo—who could block Ushijima—were anomalies. Most people simply didn’t have that kind of gift.

“Bang!”

The ball smashed straight between Watari and Narita’s arms.

Narita felt a sharp sting shoot through his arm, his expression twisting.

The ball forced its way through the gap and slammed onto the court.

“Bang!”

“Wow… Ushijima-senpai is incredible.” Watching from afar, Ryosuke couldn’t help but marvel at the raw power.

Kawanishi rolled his eyes inelegantly. “Didn’t you and Tendo shut him down before?”

He grabbed his backpack, searching for the jelly and rice balls he’d packed for lunch.

“Huh? Where’d they go?”

He turned the bag upside down. Nothing.

Semi hurriedly swallowed the rice ball in his mouth, choking so hard his eyes rolled back. Ryosuke watched in alarm. Was it really worth risking your life over one bite?

Kawanishi stared at his empty bag, full of question marks.

After Ushijima scored the first point, the momentum on the court picked up.

After being blown apart several times, Wakutani gave up on directly blocking Ushijima and cleverly switched to using their block to limit his hitting angles instead.

Another pass rose to Shirabu. He glanced to the right and saw Tsutomu Goshiki waiting under the net, practically vibrating with anticipation.

If he set it there… it would be easy to overlook.

Shirabu pressed his lips together in a faint smile.

“Tsutomu Goshiki!”

Hearing his name, Tsutomu Goshiki’s eyes lit up and he sprinted forward. He knew exactly what that call meant.

Shirabu was telling him—

You can hit.

“Woo!”

Two months of waiting. Two months of training. The restlessness that had churned in his chest day and night—

All of it poured into this single spike.

“Bang!”

The ball hit the floor.

Takeru hadn’t made it in time. He had seen it clearly—the setter had blatantly set to that bob-haired kid.

Which meant the setter wasn’t worried in the slightest about the ball being blocked.

Even the two middle blockers, himself, and the libero in the back row hadn’t been able to react to Tsutomu Goshiki’s speed.

Seeing the ball land, Tsutomu Goshiki trembled as he bent forward, fists clenched tight. Then he suddenly snapped upright and roared—

“AHHH! That felt amazing!!”

This was a young player who had held himself back for far too long, desperate to prove himself on the big stage.

For Tsutomu Goshiki, this was a new beginning.

“Nice one, Goshiki!” Tendo draped himself over his neck with a grin.

“Nice! Goshiki!” Reon laughed, ruffling his hair. “That was a hell of a shot!”

Tsutomu Goshiki was still lost in the thrill of that spike, unable to calm down for a long while.

...

Chapter 108

That last spike was unbelievably fast. From Tsutomu Goshiki’s approach to his jump and the swing itself, the whole sequence took only a few seconds. It carried a hint of Hinata’s style.

The speed was incredible—though still not quite on par with that little monster Hinata. Goshiki’s shot had a bit more technique mixed in. All things considered, it was far better than what most players could produce.

Part of that was probably thanks to how much he’d been ground down by Ryosuke in practice. Against Wakutani’s level of libero and block, Goshiki found it almost effortless.

Coach Washijō didn’t say anything, but the satisfied curl at the corner of his mouth said enough. Give Goshiki time. Under his seniors’ guidance, he could grow into the next ace. Add in Ryosuke’s genius-level defense…

The blueprint for Shiratorizawa’s future was already forming clearly in Coach Washijō’s mind.

Ryosuke nodded as well, cheering for the point.

“Not bad,” Eita Semi muttered around a mouthful of water.

Kawanishi was still lost in thought, unable to move on from the mystery of his missing rice ball.

Takeru Nakajima shut his eyes tight and let out a long breath.

“One more!”

Goshiki skipped happily to the service line.

Reon called out with a grin, “Make it a good one!”

The moment he finished speaking, Reon, Shirabu, and even Tendo all grabbed the backs of their heads. Thinking about Goshiki’s serves in practice—powerful, yes, but wildly inconsistent—made their scalps ache in advance.

The three on the bench watching the show couldn’t help laughing.

Goshiki tossed the ball, took his approach, and leapt. He smashed it cleanly—a powerful, steady jump serve. Thankfully, he didn’t fall apart during the match.

The ones clutching their heads all let out a breath of relief.

Seriously—if he’d messed up in a real match, Coach Washijō’s spit alone would’ve drowned him.

On the other side, Wakutani’s libero Kazuteru received the serve. The ball slammed hard into him, and he flipped backward to absorb the force and kill the momentum.

“I’ve got it!”

Seeing the ball tight to the net, Nakajima jumped without hesitation and hammered it down.

The ball struck Tendo’s blocking arms, leaving a bright red mark. Another idiot trying to blast straight through with brute force.

Still… that was some power.

Tendo let out a cold laugh. My block isn’t something just anyone can break through.

He snapped his wrists down hard, crushing the ball’s momentum.

“Bang!”

The ball hit the floor.

Nakajima froze. That couldn’t be right. Yesterday, when he watched Date Tech’s match, they’d been able to smash straight through blocks. So why didn’t it work now?

Tendo stood at the net, squinting. His tall frame cast a shadow over Nakajima, his slightly smaller-than-average pupils shifting as they settled on him.

“Date Tech? They’re just a bunch of brute-force gorillas. That trick doesn’t work on you.”

He turned and walked away, humming a strange little tune that drifted back to Nakajima.

“Crackle, crackle, something broke~
What broke?
Someone’s heart broke~”

On the last line, Tendo turned back and pointed straight atTakeru.

Nakajima flinched. If this had been his childhood, Tendo would’ve been pure nightmare material.

He pressed his lips together and returned to position. He absolutely would not admit he’d just been startled.

Ushijima frowned and shot Tendo a glare—clearly he’d seen the whole thing.

Tendo spread his hands innocently. He hadn’t done anything.

Reon stepped between them, cutting off the stare-down. “Enough. Focus on the game. Whatever it is, deal with it after.”

Ushijima nodded and said nothing more. Goshiki, meanwhile, had no idea what had just happened.

Play resumed. After several long rallies before Shiratorizawa finally secured a point, even Reon had to admit Wakutani were tough.

He exchanged a look with Shirabu, who immediately understood.

Reon wanted him to send more sets to Ushijima. Goshiki could score, sure—but in the eyes of Wakutani’s seasoned third-years, his technique was still raw. They could manipulate him.

If this dragged on, Goshiki’s stamina would be drained.

Shirabu glanced at Goshiki, who was bent slightly, hands on his knees, catching his breath—only to spring up the next second and blast a straight shot.

“Bang!”

Shirabu reconsidered. Maybe letting him run a little longer wouldn’t hurt. Goshiki was ridiculously energetic—charging all over the court like a dog off its leash.

Still, Shirabu decisively set to Ushijima.

Ushijima’s face stayed expressionless as he crushed the ball down.

“Bang!”

The sound was thunderous.

Kawanishi, who had slid from sitting to lying down, murmured so quietly no one heard:

“That one sounded like Ushijima’s in a good mood.”

From there on, the latter half of the set turned into a pure slugfest. Both sides blasted back and forth, each spike fiercer than the last.

And with Ushijima and Reon on Shiratorizawa’s side, it was like having two artillery cannons. They aimed directly at Wakutani’s blockers, each heavy “bang” echoing through the gym.

Even Ryosuke, sitting below, winced on behalf of Wakutani’s middle blockers. Some of those hits clearly carried a bit of personal grievance.

After one spike, Reon arched a brow at Nakajima.

“Next time, don’t aim at our middle blocker’s arms.”

Nakajima: …Are they really that petty?

Under Shiratorizawa’s relentless bombardment, the first set ended quickly. Wakutani’s two middle blockers had arms mottled blue and purple, like they’d been beaten up. Even their libero’s arms looked better by comparison.

Narita and Todo sat there grimacing, pressing ice packs to their arms. It was a pitiful sight.

Coach Onikōbe sat in silence for a long time. The loss was crushing. Completely one-sided.

So this… was the reigning king, Shiratorizawa.

Nakajima sat in the far corner, a towel draped over his head, staring at the floor in defeat.

He didn’t dare look up at his parents in the stands. He was afraid of seeing disappointment in their eyes. Afraid his younger siblings would laugh at him for being short and still chasing volleyball. Afraid his classmates would call him delusional…

A hand rested on his shoulder.

He looked up blankly to see Coach Onikōbe walking over with the team. He opened his mouth, about to apologize—

But Onikōbe cut him off.

“No apologizing. This isn’t your fault.Takeru, you’ve always been amazing. You’ve led us to see sights we never imagined. Now stand tall, and face the second set with everyone.

Even if we lose, Wakutani will lose in a way people remember. Understood?”

Nakajima’s nose stung. He straightened his back.

“Understood! I’ll do it!”

Kazuteru leaned toward their setter, Hanayama. “What did Coach mean?”

Hanayama ruffled his junior’s hair. “He means we hang on as long as we can. Ideally, we become the team that drags Shiratorizawa to exhaustion.”

Kazuteru nodded, half-understanding. Whatever. Just follow the seniors.

...

When the second set began, Ryosuke could clearly feel Wakutani’s morale had changed. It was like watching someone lift their head from defeat and charge forward without hesitation.

In the first set, only Nakajima—the short outside hitter—had really shone. The rest had been fairly ordinary.

So what would Wakutani show now?

Ryosuke found himself looking forward to it.

“Beep—”

Second set. This rotation brought Shirabu to serve. As Ushijima’s dedicated setter, Shirabu’s serve wasn’t anything special within Shiratorizawa.

“Bang!”

He deliberately sent a powerful jump serve into the seam between the libero and the player in position one.

Both turned at the same time to receive it, startled into staring at each other.

Kazuteru gritted his teeth. “Senpai! I’m the libero!”

He stepped back and cleanly received the ball.

Watari gave an awkward smile as the pass arced up and everyone transitioned toward the net.

When the ball reached Hanayama’s hands, Wakutani unveiled something new.

Just like their coach had said—even in defeat, they would be unforgettable.

Narita jumped first. Based on instinct, Tendo judged he wouldn’t be the one to get the set. He held back.

Behind Narita, Todo sprang up, ready to spike.

Tendo narrowed his eyes. “A staggered attack?”

It wasn’t something you saw often these days. Most teams relied on raw talent. Tactics like this were rare.

“Using two hitters to pave the way… interesting. How many decoys are there?”

He muttered to himself. When Todo still didn’t swing, irritation flickered through him. Even if his blocking was instinctive, constantly being forced to guess was annoying.

Hanayama set to their ace—Takeru Nakajima.

Using Todo as cover, Nakajima approached from the right. By the time Tendo’s attention shifted to the staggered formation, Nakajima was already airborne.

Coach Onikōbe clenched his fingers below the court.

You have to score this,Takeru. The momentum of this set depends on this first ball.

“Bang!”

Nakajima smashed it down hard.

The only blocker in front of him was Goshiki, who had rushed over, arms splayed awkwardly like tree branches.

Nakajima’s air battle was exquisite—delicate, controlled. Against Shiratorizawa’s straightforward power, Wakutani’s style was almost pleasing to watch.

He deliberately guided the landing spot far from Yamagata and toward Shirabu—close enough to pressure him.

He broke through Goshiki’s block with ease.

Everything happened in a flash. The moment he jumped, Nakajima knew this point would score.

But in Tendo’s eyes, every detail—the strategy, the players’ positions—felt etched frame by frame into his mind.

For the first time, Tendo had read it wrong.

His expression darkened.

When had he started underestimating opponents?

That wasn’t good.

“Nice one,Takeru!”

“Takeru’s amazing!”

Watari and Narita rushed him in celebration. That clean point crushed the lingering doubt and anxiety in their hearts.

From the sidelines, Coach Washijō exploded.

“Satori! What was that?! Where was your block?! And Goshiki—what was that hand position?! What have you been doing in training these past months?! And you! Kawanishi! Who told you to eat snacks during a match? Put that away!!”

He slammed his chair furiously. These problems had never shown during practice—but the moment they faced resistance, every flaw surfaced.

He was close to passing out from anger.

The instant Nakajima scored, Ryosuke had quietly swapped seats with Kawanishi, successfully placing Kawanishi right within range of Coach Washijō’s fury.

Clutching the snacks he’d painstakingly scavenged from Semi, Kawanishi stared at Ryosuke speechlessly.

Backstab me?

Ryosuke, sweating slightly: No.

Tendo and Goshiki both shrank into themselves. The two unfortunate souls exchanged a glance, seeing the same guilt reflected in each other’s eyes.

Shirabu stepped forward with a three-hit combo of sarcasm.

“Pathetic. Couldn’t block. You too.”

Tendo snorted. “You didn’t receive it either, did you?”

Goshiki hadn’t seen the play clearly, but Tendo had.

Shirabu was caught off guard. “I—”

“Enough.”

Reon stepped in smoothly, separating them before it escalated.

From the backcourt, Yamagata watched like he was at a show, practically missing a bowl of popcorn.

“Tsk.”

That rally had been entertaining—Tendo misled, Goshiki failing to block, Shirabu hesitating. What a performance.

The bickering ended there.

Narita walked to the service line with the ball, and everyone reset.

He stood still, tossed it, and with a light swing of his arm sent out a high, drifting float serve.

Yamagata’s brow twitched.

A standing float? Interesting. Why hadn’t they brought this out earlier? He’d barely had any presence in the first set.

Watching the ball wobble unpredictably over the net, Yamagata decisively chose an overhand receive.

If he went underhand, he might misjudge the force and send it off line. Float serves needed to be gently pushed.

Tilting his head back, searching for the drop point under the gym lights, he raised his hands overhead. The ball carried a faint rightward spin.

He received it firmly.

The ball floated up in a clean, high arc.

Narita’s face turned pale.

They’d handled it that easily? This was one of Wakutani’s few trump cards. If even that didn’t work…

What he didn’t know was that Yamagata hadn’t had an easy time either. Looking up into the bright gym lights had made him dizzy for a moment.

And controlling the force on an overhand receive wasn’t simple. The ball hadn’t originally been meant to float that high—he’d misjudged the strength slightly.

“Sorry!” Yamagata called.

Shirabu cursed under his breath, craning his neck to track the ball—earning a quiet chuckle from Yamagata.

The set went to Goshiki.

Still fuming about his earlier failed block, Goshiki deliberately aimed at Nakajima—who wasn’t involved in blocking—and slammed it down hard.

The ball sliced past Nakajima’s ear. The block formed by the two middle blockers and Watari was shattered instantly.

For a split second, Nakajima felt the air brush his ear. His expression darkened.

No wonder Goshiki was called the future ace.

That reckless, brute-force style… it was exactly like Ushijima’s.

Reon covered his face and sighed.

He’d have to guide Goshiki more carefully. Shiratorizawa already had one dense Ushijima. They couldn’t afford another Goshiki.

He didn’t expect Goshiki to be as smooth as Kawanishi—but at least the kid needed to learn how to talk properly.

Shirabu’s lips curved upward as he offered rare praise.

“Nice one.”

...

Chapter 109

The second set was already past the halfway mark. The scoreboard read 19:14. A five-point gap that felt almost impossible to overcome.

Tsutomu Goshiki frowned, his chest burning with each breath, his throat dry. He leapt and drove the ball down with force.

Wakutani had already figured out how to guide Tsutomu Goshiki’s spikes. This one was dug up from deep in the back by Kazuteru.

“Nice receive!”

Tsutomu Goshiki sucked in heavy breaths. Ever since the second set began, Wakutani had become incredibly tenacious. Every rally dragged on endlessly. That was not good for him.

“Hanayama!” Kazuteru gritted his teeth as he took the ball again. Tsutomu Goshiki’s spikes still carried serious power.

Hanayama tracked the ball in the air, calculating angle and placement. Todo and Takeru crouched, ready to jump. Todo and Narita kept their eyes locked on Tendo and Tsutomu Goshiki.

Todo pulled attention away, creating cover for the attack.

Under that cover, Takeru spread his arms wide. His shoes squeaked sharply against the floor as sweat slid down his forehead.

He could see the Block clearly now. No matter where he hit it, that redhead would be there.

Then… one more time.

Takeru clenched his jaw and smashed the ball straight into Tendo’s fingertips. The moment he landed, he turned and sprinted back.

Tendo felt the touch against his fingers and clicked his tongue softly.

“One more time!” Takeru shouted.

Kotaro immediately understood.

“Got it!”

Takeru charged to the net again. Kotaro set a long Omega fast, and Takeru crushed it.

The ball clipped the line perfectly—a flawless line shot. Tsutomu Goshiki, who had been preparing to block, froze in disbelief.

He snapped his head up, eyes shining as he stared at Takeru. A line shot… that was way too cool!!

Takeru wiped the sweat from his head, baffled by Tsutomu Goshiki’s starry-eyed look. Why was he staring at him like that?

“Nice one, Takeru.”

Hanayama grinned and punched his shoulder lightly. There was no hope of winning now. They might as well enjoy their final match as third-years.

On a court soaked with sweat and tears, there was never a shortage of failure—whether for one person or a whole team. Some would sympathize, some would sigh in regret, but no one’s eyes lingered long.

Applause and crowns belonged only to the victors. People admired strength.

Shirabu set the ball. Sensing the attackers near the net, he sent it to Ushijima without hesitation.

No words were needed. Between setter and Wing Spiker, a glance was enough.

“Bang!”

Ushijima’s left-handed spike slammed into the floor.

Narita’s arm, already mottled with bruises, was struck again and knocked back.

Clutching it, he stared at the ball that had fallen, guilt written all over his face.

Todo stepped in to comfort him. “It’s okay. We… still have a chance.”

The bold 24:19 on the scoreboard was painfully bright.

Narita lowered his gaze and said nothing.

It was Reon’s turn to serve. Looking at the battered Wakutani players, he felt no pity, no guilt. No matter how miserable you look, there can only be one winner.

Kazuteru sniffed hard, eyes fixed on the incoming serve. He had to receive it. This was their last chance.

Tears nearly spilled as he rushed forward. The ball slammed into his arms so hard it felt like they might buckle.

Gritting his teeth, he forced his arms up. The ball popped high into the air—landing perfectly in a spot where Takeru could attack. There was plenty of luck in that.

“Go, Takeru!”

“You’ve got this!”

“Put it away!”

The coach’s eyes grew damp. These kids… they’d all grown into their own sense of responsibility. Good. So good.

Takeru heard them. His eyes sharpened with resolve. Carrying everyone’s hopes, he swung with  everything he had.

“Smack!”

It wasn’t the sound of the ball hitting the floor.

It was the sound of it being stopped by a palm—dropping back down onto Wakutani’s side.

The impact landed just as heavily in Takeru Nakajima’s heart.

He stared in shock at Tsutomu Goshiki in front of him. When… when had he gotten there? That space had been empty just seconds ago.

Tsutomu Goshiki stared blankly at his reddened palm and slowly clenched it. He didn’t really know what had happened either. He’d just felt that, in that moment, this was what he had to do.

“Beeeeep—”

The match was over. Shiratorizawa had won again.

“That last one was great, Tsutomu Goshiki!” Reon laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

Tsutomu Goshiki was too dazed to think about what had just happened. Being praised left him flustered, pink bubbles practically rising off him.

Shirabu nodded in agreement but didn’t voice any praise. His tsundere personality made compliments difficult.

Tendo draped an arm over Tsutomu Goshiki’s shoulders as they walked off. Ushijima and Reon were already discussing what to eat for dinner.

On the Wakutani side, the atmosphere was heavy.

Takeru looked up at his parents and brothers in the stands, sniffed, and gave them a bright smile.

His father forced back tears and bared his teeth in a grin. Of course he understood. His son’s sense of responsibility was too strong. He was afraid of disappointing everyone…

After the match, both teams bowed to the spectators.

Facing so many people who had come to watch them play, Takeru finally broke. As he bowed, tears streamed down his face.

Watari, eyes red, stayed by his side and tried to comfort him.

Suddenly, a middle-aged man in an apron stood up in the stands and shouted:

“Hey! You Wakutani boys! You might’ve lost, but that was an incredible match!”

The Wakutani players looked at each other. Then, unable to hold back, they smiled and bowed again in thanks.

Todo used to hate that phrase—“You lost, but it was a great match.” It always sounded like consolation for losers.

But looking at the shine in that man’s eyes, Todo suddenly understood.

Those weren’t empty words. Only someone who truly loved what they had shown on that court could say that.

Watari stood beside Takeru and glanced at his still-red eyes.

“So? What about now? Are you still retiring?”

Takeru shook his head firmly. “No. I’m staying. Next time… I’m going to beat them.”

Watari smiled in satisfaction.

Too many club members planned to retire once they reached their third year. Even Takeru had considered it.

For third-years, entrance exams and future schools were crucial. Without good results, the road ahead would narrow.

Watari had always planned to stay until graduation. Still, watching teammates leave one by one after this match hurt more than he’d expected.

But after today’s game, knowing these stubborn, competitive idiots—

There would definitely be a next match.

…How nice.

Watari looked out at the sun beyond the arena and let out a quiet sigh.

…

While the rest of Shiratorizawa continued talking about the game, Tsutomu Goshiki, Ryosuke, and Yunohama had already slipped away to check whether Aobajosai’s match had ended.

Reon noticed their suspicious movements, exchanged a look with Ushijima, and quietly followed.

“Whoa…” Tsutomu Goshiki cracked open the back door and gasped.

“What? What is it?” Ryosuke shoved at his head impatiently, trying to squeeze a look inside.

Yunohama, trapped between them, scowled. “Hey! Stop pushing! Tsutomu Goshiki, move!”

“Ah!” ×3

Reon, who had appeared at some point, stared at the three wiggling backsides outside the door. Rubbing his forehead, he kicked each of them inside.

Thankfully, this back entrance was secluded. Otherwise, Shiratorizawa would’ve been utterly humiliated.

Ryosuke rubbed his backside and looked up to see the towering Reon and Ushijima.

Tsutomu Goshiki didn’t look embarrassed at all. He clung to the seats by the back door, standing on tiptoe to watch, waving at the other two.

“Hurry! It’s not over! 31:30—Aobajosai’s leading!”

“That intense?!” Ryosuke hurried over to watch.

Reon scanned the court in confusion. Not many teams could push Aobajosai to three sets. Date Tech and Wakutani had both been knocked out. Who was this?

Karasuno…?

He stared at the players in black uniforms, frowning slightly. Never heard of them. They’re this strong?

Ushijima, seeing it was Aobajosai’s match, stepped over as well. He squeezed in with the others.

Pressed up beside Ushijima, Tsutomu Goshiki looked like he might combust from happiness, a suspicious blush spreading across his face.

Reon eventually squeezed in too.

And so, in the back row of the stands, Shiratorizawa stood neatly in a line—secretly watching.

Kageyama stared at the scoreboard.

Just one more point… and they would lose.

He drew a deep breath. Hinata had already looped around to the backcourt for his run-up. The opposing blockers were waiting.

By the third set, everyone’s stamina had dipped.

Kageyama swallowed against the dryness in his throat and fixed his eyes on Hinata’s approach.

This position. This angle. Perfect.

He set the ball.

It rose precisely to Hinata’s optimal hitting point.

Eyes closed, Hinata swung with all his strength and landed.

“Smack—”

But it wasn’t the sound of the ball hitting the floor.

At the very spot Hinata attacked, Hanamaki and Matsukawa had finally found the flaw in the Freak Quick. Together, they sealed the block.

“Beeeeep—”

“Ohhhhh Aobajosai!”

“Aobajosai! Unrivaled!
Aobajosai! Invincible!”

Aobajosai was swallowed by a sea of cheers.

Oikawa shot a provocative look toward Karasuno’s side, where faces had gone pale.

Kageyama stood frozen.

How…?

The final ball… had been blocked.

Behind him, his seniors looked defeated. Hinata looked like he was about to cry.

Only then did it sink in.

They had really lost.

Hinata blamed himself. If he had opened his eyes during that spike, maybe it wouldn’t have been blocked. How could the Freak Quick—at such a crucial moment—be cracked so easily?

If only he had been stronger. Worked harder.

He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms.

Daichi forced himself to pull Hinata back and lead the team to bow.

He knew that aside from Kageyama, Hinata was the one blaming himself most.

But they had already done incredibly well. Many factors had led to this loss.

Ryosuke stayed until both teams bowed to the audience before leaving with the others.

Reon sighed quietly over that final rally. Thanks to Tsutomu Goshiki’s nonstop chatter, he now understood what the Freak Quick was—and he couldn’t help feeling regret.

A dark horse and a long-standing powerhouse. Each team had its own strengths.

No matter who lost, it would feel like a shame.

Right now, Karasuno wasn’t yet on Aobajosai’s level.

But given time, they would grow quickly.

To push Aobajosai to three sets and thirty points…

The crows were already spreading their wings.

The afternoon matches ended quickly. Reon and Ushijima had come out to find the others; the rest had gone to eat or back to the dorms.

Ryosuke headed home alone after saying goodbye at the intersection.

Kicking a small stone along the road, he hesitated before pulling out his phone.

He had seen it clearly from the stands—Hinata’s sadness.

He typed a message.

Cat Hero: Hinata~ Come watch my match tomorrow? Afterward, let’s go eat unagi-yaki!

Ryosuke wasn’t good with words. On the court, he could talk endlessly. But comforting someone? All he could manage was a dry “Don’t be sad,” which sounded hollow.

So instead, he’d treat Hinata to what he thought was the most delicious food.

Good food could bring happiness.

He wasn’t worried Hinata would stay down for long. He’d seen the longing and excitement in his eyes whenever he watched volleyball from the sidelines.

Looking at the contact labeled “Little Sun,” Ryosuke suddenly realized—

Somewhere along the way, Hinata had become a very important friend.

He’d met Hinata only a few minutes earlier than the rest of Karasuno.

So why did they get along so well?

Ah…

Dark clouds were gathering overhead.

Ryosuke quickened his pace. The forecast hadn’t mentioned rain.

He had a match tomorrow. Catching a cold would be disastrous.

When he ran, he moved like a light breeze, stirring petals along the roadside.

…

It took him just over ten minutes to reach home.

Feeling sticky with sweat, he pinched his nose and went to shower.

By the time he came out, rain was pouring down outside. It drummed against the windows, the scent of wet concrete filling the air.

Good thing he made it back in time.

Otherwise, he’d be soaked.

He grabbed a cold Coke from the fridge, closed the window slowly, and went upstairs.

Coach Washijō and Grandma weren’t home. Only at times like this could he secretly drink soda.

Life was hard.

“Ding ding…”

He had just crawled into bed when his phone rang.

“Little Sun” flashed across the screen.

He answered immediately.

“Hinata!”

“……”

Silence.

He could faintly hear other Karasuno members talking, the rain outside, and Hinata’s breathing.

Ryosuke didn’t rush him. He knew Hinata probably needed time.

After a long while, the quiet broke into soft, shaky sobs.

“I… Ryosuke… we lost… w-we lost…”

“I feel so awful…”

Hinata sniffed loudly. “That last spike… if I’d just opened my eyes…”

He was crouched in the hallway, crying quietly.

He didn’t even know why he had called Ryosuke. Maybe he just needed somewhere to let it out.

His partner always wore a scowl. Crying in front of him would probably earn mockery.

He couldn’t cry in front of Tsukishima either. That sharp-tongued guy would definitely say something cutting.

And he didn’t want to lose face in front of his seniors.

After thinking it through, Ryosuke was the only one he could cry to.

Almost without thinking, after seeing the message Ryosuke had sent, Hinata had dialed his number.

...

Chapter 110

Ryosuke listened to Hinata cry for a full twenty minutes without stopping, staring blankly ahead.

Hinata… how could he cry even harder than me?

It had been a long time since Hinata cried like this. Once he started, he simply couldn’t stop. And to do it in front of his best friend… only after he finally calmed down did he realize just how embarrassing it was.

He wiped his tears and snot with the hem of his shirt, sniffed, and said in a thick, nasal voice,

“Sorry… you must think I’m ridiculous.”

Hearing Hinata finally speak, Ryosuke let out a quiet sigh of relief. The way he’d been sobbing just now had honestly made him worry Hinata might cry himself into fainting.

Ryosuke softened his voice, speaking gently, almost like he was comforting a little kid.

“It’s okay… It’s raining outside right now. Head back early so you don’t catch a cold. Make sure you put on your jacket.

Um… will you come watch my match tomorrow?”

“I will!”

Hinata’s answer came instantly, loud and firm. Hearing that energy back in his voice, Ryosuke finally relaxed.

They chatted a little longer. Only when Daichi called out from nearby did Hinata awkwardly hang up.

After ending the call, Hinata stretched his numb legs and stood up, his entire face flushed red.

His cheeks burned. Calling Ryosuke just to cry because he was upset—and crying so hard there’d been tears and snot everywhere… it was mortifying.

He buried his face in his hands like an ostrich.

But… Ryosuke was really gentle. He hadn’t complained once. Didn’t sound annoyed at all. Having a friend like that…

It really was something to be grateful for.

Kageyama looked at Hinata’s reddened eyes and pressed his lips together without speaking. He wanted to comfort him too. But if he opened his mouth, it would probably come out as, “You’re already this old and still crying?” and they’d just end up fighting again.

So he chose silence.

On the other end, Ryosuke lay flat on his bed after the call, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Thinking about how Hinata had sobbed just now, he couldn’t help picturing him curled up somewhere small, sniffling like a tiny animal.

“Ha…”

Ryosuke laughed at his own ridiculous imagination, letting out a soft snort as he lay there.

...

Lost in random thoughts, he listened to the steady drizzle outside the window. His breathing gradually evened out. The sky wasn’t fully dark yet. In his hazy state, he reminded himself he shouldn’t sleep now—if he did, he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep later…

His eyelids kept fighting to stay open.

In the end, he lost to the lullaby of rain and drifted off. The phone slipped from his hand.

When Coach Washijō came home and didn’t hear the usual noise from that brat, he went upstairs to check. The boy was already asleep.

Coach Washijō snorted.

No match today, and he’s already asleep before it’s even dark—like a pig. If he wakes up in the middle of the night, I’ll deal with him then.

He turned and left in a huff.

———————————————

Karasuno

After saying goodbye to his seniors, Hinata jumped on his bike and pedaled like mad. The wind dried the tears off his face.

Next time. Next time, he would beat Aobajosai. Beat Shiratorizawa. Beat all of them.

He couldn’t let down the entire training plan Ryosuke had written for him.

When the next match came, that final ball—

He would spike it cleanly.

In his room, Kageyama practiced setting against the wall alone. His mind kept replaying the look in Oikawa’s eyes when they’d collided during that rally.

Kageyama might seem dense, but he understood more than people thought.

He understood the way Oikawa-senpai had excluded him in middle school. His own bad temper. The sideways glances from others.

He knew his personality wasn’t likable.

…So what exactly did he have to do to become a setter like Oikawa-senpai?

Kageyama slammed the ball hard against the wall.

Bang!

It ricocheted back and smacked into his arm.

...

Shiratorizawa

Tsutomu Goshiki lay on his dorm bed. Yunohama’s snoring echoed beside him.

He stared at the ceiling, raising his right hand.

He replayed that miraculous block from today in his head. Over and over, he swung his arm in the air, trying to find that same feeling.

But no matter how many times he tried, he couldn’t recreate it.

So… was that block really just luck?

It had felt so smooth at the time.

...

Aobajosai

Oikawa sat in front of his computer, just like he had countless times before a match, meticulously analyzing every detail of Shiratorizawa’s gameplay.

He bit his nails, legs folded beneath him, mouse moving nonstop.

He’d clearly been at it for hours.

He was already a third-year.

He couldn’t afford to lose anymore.

Ushijima. Kageyama. Ryosuke. The little shorty…

Those geniuses were all catching up to him.

Three years in middle school. Three years in high school.

He had never led his school to Nationals.

Toru Oikawa… was just an ordinary person.

All his effort over the years seemed effortless in the eyes of those geniuses.

What did he have to do to beat those damn prodigies?

From the next room, Iwaizumi noticed the light still on in Oikawa’s room.

He sighed.

That idiot is watching match footage again.

He just hoped Oikawa wouldn’t dig himself into a hole.

Iwaizumi rested his head on his desk, staring into nothing.

What would tomorrow look like?

Would they lose again?

Should he retire after this?

What would he do after graduation…?

In the darkness of the night, the boys’ worries tangled into a dense web.

What would tomorrow be like?

What would the future be like?

Time would eventually make everything clear.

Prefectural Tournament — Day Three

The next morning, under Coach Washijō’s supervision, Ryosuke carefully reapplied ointment to his knee and wrapped it tightly with bandages to prevent any flare-ups during the match.

The finals were this morning.

For some reason, the road to the finals had felt too easy.

He’d only played in one match. It almost didn’t feel real.

Miyagi really didn’t have many strong schools left.

Ryosuke went to school with Coach Washijō. After arriving, he headed straight to the gym to wait while Coach Washijō attended a meeting.

“Morning,” Ryosuke greeted with a smile.

“Morning,” Tendo replied weakly, raising a hand. His face had an unnatural flush.

Ryosuke’s eyes widened.

Tendo-senpai was acting weird. He didn’t even mess with him today.

He stepped closer and asked quietly, “Tendo-senpai, are you okay?”

Tendo yawned slowly.

“Didn’t sleep well. Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

Yamagata, who had just finished breakfast, let out a small burp.

“You shouldn’t say that before a match. You’ll jinx it. That’s basically tempting fate—it means things might end up going the exact opposite way.”

Tsutomu Goshiki tilted his head, quietly storing the new word away in his mind.

Ryosuke laughed.

“Yamagata-senpai, don’t scare him. It’s just superstition. Tsutomu Goshiki doesn’t believe in that stuff.”

Caught off guard, Tsutomu Goshiki still nodded honestly.

Yamagata shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Reon hurried in through the door, completely ignoring their conversation. He went straight to Tendo, worry written all over his face. In his hand was a plastic bag filled with cold medicine and fever patches.

“Satori, how are you feeling?”

Ryosuke, Tsutomu Goshiki, and Yamagata all froze.

…Jinx?

Tsutomu Goshiki blinked.

I literally just learned that word…

The three of them crowded around Reon—one digging through the bag, one asking questions, and one checking Tendo’s expression.

“Reon-senpai… what happened?” Tsutomu Goshiki asked.

Shirabu and Kawanishi were drawn over by the commotion.

Reon sighed and shot Tsutomu Goshiki a glare. He hadn’t planned to tell everyone.

“After yesterday’s match, I went back to the dorm first. Later I found out Satori stayed out to eat. It started pouring, and he didn’t bring a jacket. He probably caught a cold.”

Yesterday afternoon’s rain had been heavy. Most people had returned early.

Tendo, however, had gone out for food and ended up soaked.

And as usual, he hadn’t brought a jacket. His phone had even been left inside it, so Reon had brought it back for him.

Now he’d caught it.

Shirabu clicked his tongue.

“Couldn’t you have waited until the rain stopped? It’s not like you were in a hurry.”

Ushijima walked over holding a thermometer.

“Borrowed it from Team Doctor Saito. Check his temperature.”

Reon took it and skillfully slipped it into Tendo’s mouth.

Tendo slumped weakly against Ryosuke. Ryosuke could feel the heat radiating off him.

This was definitely a fever.

Everyone fell silent.

“Thirty-eight degrees,” Reon said quietly after checking.

No one spoke.

Ryosuke peeled open a fever patch and pressed it onto Tendo’s forehead.

Tendo’s eyes were already drooping.

Coach Washijō walked in to find the group gathered around in silence.

He’d already heard from Saito. Still, seeing the 38-degree reading himself made him frown.

“Reon. Ushijima. Take Tendo to the infirmary for an IV. He’s sitting this match out.”

Reon nodded and helped Tendo onto Ushijima’s back.

Tendo, half-conscious, understood the decision. It wasn’t unfair. Coach Washijō was worried about his health.

He tapped Ushijima’s shoulder, signaling him to stop.

Then he forced his eyes open and looked at Ryosuke.

“Ryosuke… Shiratorizawa’s Block is in your hands now.”

The words cut through the room.

In that instant, Ryosuke felt the full weight of it.

The core of Shiratorizawa’s defense.

Years later, when he thought back on this day, all he remembered was nodding firmly in front of everyone—accepting that heavy responsibility.

Coach Washijō’s voice shattered the tension.

“What are you all standing there for with those long faces? He’s sick, not dead! You think you can’t play without him? Since when did Shiratorizawa get so soft?!”

They straightened immediately.

“Yes!”

For Shiratorizawa, Ushijima’s presence was strength.

And Tendo standing at the net was reassurance itself—the first line of defense.

“Today’s opponent is our old rival, Aobajosai. You all know their style. I won’t repeat it. This match is on you—don’t run to me for every little thing.

Lineup:

Ushijima, Ryosuke, Tsutomu Goshiki
Reon, Yamagata, Shirabu

With Tendo out, Ryosuke and Yamagata, you anchor the defense. We only accept victory.”

“Yes!”

Like a general sending his soldiers into battle, Coach Washijō gave his declaration.

He believed they could bring home another championship.

...

Miyagi’s final battle.

They packed their bags and headed early to warm up.

Tsutomu Goshiki and Ryosuke crouched nearby, watching Yunohama pack for them.

In another corner stood Yamagata and Kawanishi.

Reon was packing someone else’s bag too.

Somehow, the two of them standing there felt strangely similar.

Maybe it was the glow of fatherly energy.

Reon glanced at Yunohama and thought to himself—

This kid’s future might be just as chaotic as mine.

They followed Reon toward the gym.

Before they even reached it, they saw a massive crowd blocking the entrance—people holding signs, posters of Ushijima and Oikawa.

Ryosuke blinked.

“Are we really that famous?”

Eita Semi, munching snacks he’d swiped from Kawanishi, snorted.

“You really don’t read school forums, huh? Half of them are here for Shiratorizawa. The other half for Aobajosai.”

“Aobajosai?”

Semi nodded.

“Oikawa struts around like a peacock every match. They’re all here for his face. It’s like idol culture.”

Ryosuke was stunned.

You’d never guess from practice that Oikawa-senpai was such a heartthrob.

Meanwhile—

“Achoo!”

Oikawa rubbed his nose.

Heh. Must be another girl talking about the handsome and charming Oikawa-sama.

“Oikawa! Where the hell are you?!”

Hearing Iwaizumi’s shout, Oikawa flinched and sneaked back toward his team—only to be greeted by Iwaizumi’s fist of justice.

Shiratorizawa decided to use the back entrance.

But when they arrived—

They ran straight into Aobajosai, who had clearly had the same idea.

Reon and Iwaizumi blinked at each other.

“…What a coincidence.”

“…Yeah. What a coincidence.”

An awkward silence spread between the two teams.

...

Chapter 111

Before Iwaizumi could even greet them, Oikawa spotted Ushijima and the others behind him. And don’t ask why it wasn’t Captain Oikawa leading the group—Oikawa simply wasn’t the most reliable person.

With a dramatic “whoosh,” Oikawa popped out from behind Iwaizumi.

“Ha! Little Ushiwaka! Watch us wipe the floor with you today!”

Ushijima replied calmly, “The one who will win is Shiratorizawa.”

Then he added, “Oikawa, you should—”

Before he could finish, Reon quickly covered his mouth.

Ushijima: “?”

Reon smiled at Iwaizumi. “See you on the court. We’ll head in first.”

Iwaizumi nodded and dragged the flailing Oikawa toward center court. Just like that, Reon and Iwaizumi successfully prevented what would’ve turned into a childish captain showdown.

Behind them, Tsutomu Goshiki whispered to Ryosuke, “Why does Oikawa-senpai always pick on Ushijima-senpai?”

Ryosuke was still lost in his nerves about having to anchor the Block alone today and didn’t hear a word.

It was Yamagata who answered instead.

“That’s because Ushijima-senpai has always had the upper hand over Oikawa. That’s why Oikawa dislikes him.”

Tsutomu Goshiki nodded with an “ohhh, I see” expression.

When both teams entered the arena for introductions, the cheers nearly blew the roof off the gym.

“Oikawa-sama!!”

“Shiratorizawa! Shiratorizawa! Shiratorizawa!”

“Ushijima-senpai, have my babies!”

…Yeah. Something weird definitely slipped in there.

People waved streamers and flowers everywhere. Compared to the slightly empty venue two days ago, the gym was now completely packed.

Hinata followed his seniors through the crowd, craning his neck to look around. Kageyama, dressed casually with his hands in his pockets, still wore that permanently grumpy “the world owes me money” expression.

“So many people…” Daichi murmured.

Sugawara nodded. “Next time, Daichi, we’ll be playing on a stage like this too.”

“Of course! Next time we’re beating Aobajosai!” Nishinoya shouted energetically from behind.

“Alright! Find your seats! Stop wandering around!

Kageyama! Don’t fight with Hinata! Tsukishima, zip it! Asahi! You’re watching the match, not playing it—stop looking like you’re about to throw up! …Sugawara, don’t encourage them!”

Daichi looked utterly exhausted trying to manage Karasuno’s particularly lively flock of little crows.

They noisily found seats. Not long after, Date Tech arrived as well, practically bringing half their entourage with them.

Futakuchi ran a hand through the hairstyle he’d carefully done that morning, grumbling, “I was supposed to go on a date… Why do I have to watch the finals… So annoying…”

Koganegawa answered bluntly, “Kamasaki-senpai said you’re about to become captain, so you need to act like one. No more chasing girls all the time.”

He even patted his chest, insisting those were Kamasaki’s exact words. Still, why did Futakuchi look even more miserable now?

Aone frowned at the crowd moving around him.

For the sake of watching the match… I’ll endure it.

Outside Sendai Gymnasium, Udai lingered for a while, staring at the message Ryosuke had sent inviting him to watch.

In the end, he made up his mind and stepped inside. He wanted to see, through Ryosuke, the youth he himself had once chased.

...

In the infirmary, Saito adjusted Tendo’s IV drip.

An unnatural flush colored Tendo’s face. The back of his hand was bruised from the needle. Propped against a pillow, he stared at a tablet streaming the live final.

Saito handed him a prepared medicine drink. Tendo narrowed his eyes, waiting for the match to begin.

“Ryosuke… don’t let everyone down.”

On the court, Ryosuke suddenly glanced up toward the stands, feeling as though someone was watching him.

Probably just his imagination.

“Ryosuke! Stop spacing out—come warm up!”

Reon called out.

Ryosuke set down his towel and nodded. His palms were damp—his nerves were obvious.

As soon as he stepped onto the court for warm-ups, the crowd stirred again.

Tsutomu Goshiki studied Ryosuke’s focused expression and ran over to say something to Reon.

Mid-spike, Reon glanced at him in surprise, then looked at Ryosuke.

“How did you even tell Ryosuke was nervous from that expressionless face of his?”

So that was it—Tsutomu Goshiki had said Ryosuke looked nervous.

“Because when he’s not nervous, his face looks relaxed,” Tsutomu Goshiki insisted seriously.

Reon set the ball down. Since they were the same year and close friends, he decided to believe him and walked over.

Ryosuke was quietly bouncing the ball, trying to steady himself. His expression was serious.

Reon called him aside.

Ryosuke tilted his head slightly.

For a moment, Reon found himself caught in those clear, cat-like eyes, like staring into a forest lake, forgetting what he meant to say.

“Reon-senpai?”

Reon snapped back.

“Don’t be nervous. Just treat it like practice.”

Shiratorizawa’s third-years were all thick-skinned oddballs who barely understood what nerves were. Reon himself wasn’t exactly experienced at comforting someone.

Ryosuke let out a soft laugh.

He had wondered why Reon looked so serious.

“Don’t worry, senpai. I’ll adjust before we go on.”

Reon wanted to say more, but seeing Ryosuke’s steady gaze, he simply nodded.

Under Shirabu’s sets, Ushijima and Tsutomu Goshiki took turns spiking. The court gradually heated up as the audience waited eagerly.

After fifteen minutes of warm-up—

The prefectural final officially began.

“Beep—”

Both teams stepped forward.

Oikawa turned to his teammates.

“Today, I will—”

“Trust our captain.”

Aobajosai finished the sentence together.

The team’s usual gentle air sharpened instantly.

Iwaizumi’s expression tightened. Hanamaki and Matsukawa adjusted their focus.

“Let’s go.”

Oikawa led them onto the court.

On Shiratorizawa’s side, Ushijima and Reon turned to the team.

“Coach Washijō said no matter what, we must win. Everyone heard that?”

“Yes!”

Tsutomu Goshiki and Ryosuke stood tall, numbers six and eight on their backs. Yamagata dropped his usual playful demeanor.

“Let’s go.”

Ushijima led them forward.

The teams lined up and bowed.

The serve draw had already been decided earlier—Oikawa got first serve.

Oikawa threw his head back laughing, nearly choking.

“I knew Little Ushiwaka’s luck was off!”

Grinning, he stepped to the service line.

“Make it a good one, Oikawa!” Iwaizumi called.

Kunimi, sitting off to the side, muttered weakly, “Nice serve…” barely loud enough for Coach Irihata to hear.

Semi whispered to Kawanishi, “Don’t you think Oikawa looks annoyingly smug?”

Kawanishi thought about how Oikawa always provoked Ushijima and nodded honestly.

On the court, Oikawa sneezed, then bounced the ball.

In an instant, his expression turned sharp.

He tossed it, took his approach—

The crowd created a rhythmic chant behind him.

“Ooooh—hey!”

“Thwack!”

His entire body snapped into motion as he drove the serve forward.

The ball rocketed toward Shiratorizawa’s court.

“I’ve got it!”

Yamagata slid his left foot forward and kicked the ball up to save it. His ankle throbbed like it had been struck by stone.

“Cover!”

The ball flew awkwardly.

“I’ve got it!” Ryosuke shouted, lifting it cleanly.

The set was perfect for Ushijima—height and distance exactly how he liked it.

Ushijima jumped.

Matsukawa, Hanamaki, and Kindaichi blocked.

Ushijima smashed straight into their arms.

Matsukawa gritted his teeth and deflected it upward.

“One touch!”

The crowd gasped.

Hinata’s mouth hung open. Nishinoya’s eyes shone.

“This is insane!”

Even Kageyama couldn’t look away.

“The first rally’s already intense,” Tsukishima commented dryly.

Watari slid in and dug the ball before it hit the three-meter line.

“Got it! Oikawa!”

“Thanks, Watari~”

Oikawa scanned quickly.

“Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi charged in and leapt.

Tsutomu Goshiki hesitated.

Ryosuke grabbed his jersey.

“On three. Arms tight.”

“One. Two. Three!”

They jumped together.

Iwaizumi saw Ryosuke in front of him and felt his stomach drop.

He swung anyway.

Ryosuke’s arms locked.

His left hand angled—

“Thud!”

The ball slammed onto Aobajosai’s side.

“Sorry!” Iwaizumi shouted.

“Beep—”

First point: Shiratorizawa.

Tsukishima leaned forward slightly.

Interesting.

“Nice block, Ryosuke!”

“You’re amazing!”

Tsutomu Goshiki stared at him in awe.

Oikawa exhaled.

“We can’t target Ryosuke yet. He knows our patterns. Number six—watch him. He’s the easiest to shake emotionally.”

Iwaizumi nodded and relayed it to Hanamaki.

Shirabu stepped up to serve.

Watari frowned.

Shirabu’s serve was unpredictable.

Sure enough—

A soft net serve.

“Damn it!”

Chaos erupted under the net.

Even among strong teams, there were always differences in style.

Kawanishi and Shirabu were clear examples.