Chapter 112 - 116

Chapter 112

Iwaizumi dove to the floor, throwing himself forward in a desperate fish-style save. The receive was incredibly close—another fraction of a second and it would have been too late.

Kawanishi let out a low whistle.

“Whoa… looks like Shirabu’s net-clipping ball is finally perfected.”

Then he turned and teased Semi.

“Pretty annoying shot, right?”

Semi chuckled through his nose and didn’t comment.

The ball Iwaizumi saved bounced off at a middling height. Watari scrambled everywhere trying to patch things up, and after the pass was barely stabilized—

the ball just happened to drop right above Kindaichi’s head.

Kindaichi was still blankly staring. How did the ball suddenly end up on top of him?

Oikawa shouted in frustration.

“Kindaichi!”

Only then did Kindaichi snap back to reality.

It really wasn’t his fault. Ever since joining the volleyball club, his role in matches had always been blocking and receiving. Suddenly being asked to spike caught him completely off guard.

Kindaichi looked straight ahead.

Great—no blockers.

He could spike!

Ryosuke, meanwhile, was watching Oikawa. As for blocking… if it couldn’t be stopped, he’d just leave it to Yamagata-senpai. During their earlier practice matches, Kindaichi hadn’t spiked many balls anyway, and the power wasn’t particularly threatening.

Kindaichi sprang up with a sharp “shwa!” and slammed the ball down without hesitation.

If Oikawa-senpai arranged it, then it had to be right!

“Bang!”

But the ball was still dug up by Yamagata.

After Kindaichi’s spike, Yamagata had already sprinted to the right backcourt and received the ball cleanly and decisively. You’d never guess he had been on the left side just moments earlier.

Shiratorizawa’s two defensive anchors—Yamagata and Ryosuke—played in a quiet, almost silent style.

Like leopards lying in wait on the grasslands.

Or like ghosts you simply couldn’t shake.

Wherever the ball was, they were already there.

Kindaichi lowered his head in frustration.

“Sorry, senpai.”

“Don’t mind!”

Oikawa hadn’t expected that spike to score anyway. What he really wanted was to see how many Shiratorizawa players would actively commit to defense.

So far… only two.

Yamagata calmly pushed the ball to a spot where everyone could see it clearly. Whether it would become a set or a spike next was up to his teammates.

“Shiratorizawa somehow feels different from before,” Ukai muttered quietly from the stands.

As a coach, he knew Shiratorizawa’s old style well—overwhelming opponents with sheer thunderous force.

Now they were starting to think.

And that wasn’t good news for other teams.

Ukai hadn’t thought very highly of Shiratorizawa’s players in the past. The earlier generations were undeniably strong, but they relied almost entirely on brute force. Strategy was nearly nonexistent—and even when it appeared, it was obvious, straightforward tactics.

It had left him with the impression that Shiratorizawa was full of big, powerful players who didn’t think much about volleyball.

But this match completely overturned that image.

Goshiki was itching to go up for the spike, but with Ushijima on his left and Reon on his right, he didn’t have the courage to fight for the ball and reluctantly held back.

But unexpectedly—

Ushijima glanced back at Goshiki and signaled for him to go up and spike.

Reon looked at Ushijima in surprise.

Goshiki’s previously dim eyes lit up instantly.

He excitedly circled through the backcourt to build momentum for his approach. Right now, Goshiki looked like a fledgling white bird just learning to fly—its feathers not fully grown yet, so naturally it had to be thrown into the air to practice.

“Watch me!”

Goshiki shouted as he spread his arms wide. His feet pushed hard off the floor as he leapt high into the air, wrapping his hand around the ball and smashing it down with full force.

But Aobajosai’s block wouldn’t allow that point.

Matsukawa and Hanamaki had already heard Iwaizumi’s instructions earlier—focus on number eight.

The two exchanged a glance.

Matsukawa gestured for Kindaichi to join the block.

Hanamaki squeezed in from the middle.

Facing the three-man block, Goshiki froze. He simply didn’t have enough experience.

The next second—

Hanamaki reached out and slammed the ball straight down, completely sealing the block.

Ryosuke saw the intensity of Aobajosai’s block and already knew Goshiki’s spike was doomed.

As the ball was about to hit the floor, Ryosuke couldn’t reach it with his hands.

In desperation, he hooked out his left foot and kicked the ball up.

Goshiki landed and immediately turned to look at the play. He could sense Ryosuke beside him, but when he saw the ball saved with a foot, he couldn’t help feeling impressed.

“Nice receive!”

Everyone was surprised—especially Reon. Who would’ve thought that someone who usually looked a bit slow could react so well in a critical moment?

The foot save was a bit awkward, but the play was still alive.

Shirabu set the ball to Goshiki again.

Goshiki pulled himself together, determined to score this time.

But when he went up for the spike, he originally aimed for a straight shot—

only to be completely blocked by Hanamaki again.

Two in a row.

Goshiki stared blankly at the ball on the floor.

Blocked again?

That hit his confidence pretty hard.

The first time could be blamed on inexperience.

The second time meant he simply lost the matchup.

Poor Goshiki visibly wilted on the spot.

Seeing that, Ryosuke immediately knew his teammate was in a bad state. Goshiki’s emotions swung wildly between highs and lows, which reminded Ryosuke of a certain owl…

How did Akaashi-senpai comfort Bokuto-senpai again…

Ryosuke racked his brain.

“Goshiki… that spike just now actually looked really good! Yeah—okay, it didn’t score, but it’s way better than during practice.”

Secret Technique from the Akaashi Care Manual #1:
Praise strengths only. Compare with their past self. Emphasize clear improvement. Praise generously to prevent mood collapse.

Goshiki shook his head excitedly.

“Really? Really?!”

Ryosuke forced a smile.

“Really…”

Behind Goshiki, Reon and Yamagata silently raised their thumbs.

Nice one, Ryosuke.

You’ve got Goshiki handled.

“Alright. You’ll definitely score on the next ball. For now, go back to your position.”

Ryosuke doubled down on the encouragement and successfully stabilized the kid’s mood.

Ryosuke (thinking):
Akaashi-senpai… may good people live peaceful lives.

Goshiki happily returned to position.

Watching the entire “Goshiki persuasion operation,” Oikawa stood there in shock.

Thinking back to the straightforward little Ryosuke from before… he never imagined the kid would become like this.

Shiratorizawa really changed him.

Not a little, either…

...

After everyone returned to position, Iwaizumi stepped up to serve.

Oikawa shouted loudly,

“Iwa-chan~ nice serve~!”

Iwaizumi’s expression didn’t change at all. Completely ignoring Oikawa, he swung his arm and sent the ball flying with a powerful—

“BOOM!”

The serve was crisp and practiced.

Yamagata calmly received it.

At this point, Kawanishi started noticing something.

Neither team had shown their full strength yet. Both sides were probing each other.

Oikawa wanted to see what kind of condition Shiratorizawa was in today and whether there was any opportunity to exploit.

On Shiratorizawa’s side—no need to guess.

If someone was thinking strategically, it had to be Reon.

Reon was also trying to test Aobajosai’s current level.

Reon and Oikawa exchanged a glance.

One look was enough.

The person testing me is definitely him.

Oikawa sneered.

He knew Reon was full of scheming ideas.

But before Oikawa could finish his internal drama—

“BOOM!”

Ushijima smashed the ball down.

Even while thinking, Oikawa still kept track of the game and calculated countermeasures.

One brain doing the work of three.

No wonder Oikawa was always losing his mind.

Matsukawa and Iwaizumi were in the front row.

Hanamaki was responsible for watching Goshiki.

A strange chain formed—

Hanamaki watched Goshiki.

Ryosuke watched Hanamaki.

Like a weird predator circle.

“BANG!”

Matsukawa and Iwaizumi failed to block the spike.

Watari rushed forward from the back to receive it but couldn’t reach in time.

The ball slammed straight into Watari’s shoulder and bounced away.

“Ah! Sorry!”

Watari gritted his teeth as pain shot through his shoulder.

It really hurt.

Ushijima’s spikes were no joke.

Watari almost thought his shoulder had broken.

People say volleyball won’t kill you…

But Watari seriously felt like receiving a few more Ushijima spikes might shorten his lifespan.

In the stands, Asahi clutched his stomach, his face pale like he might throw up any second.

Nishinoya helplessly patted his back.

“Seriously? Don’t empathize that hard, Asahi! As the ace, could you be a little braver?”

A 160-centimeter libero comforting a 180-plus-centimeter powerhouse.

The contrast was absurdly cute.

Tsukishima watched from the side and laughed mercilessly.

Meanwhile, Hinata and Kageyama had already leaned halfway over the railing, looking like they couldn’t wait to jump down and join the game.

Daichi grabbed the two problem children back with a headache and flicked each of them on the forehead.

Only then did they behave.

Serve changed sides.

Aobajosai’s run ended.

Now it was Ryosuke’s turn to serve.

The moment Ryosuke stepped onto the service line, the stands erupted.

“Oh! That kid with the hook serve!”

“He’s so cute!”

“Five more points!!”

“Shiratorizawa!!”

“RYOSUKEEEEE!”

Several girls in school uniforms practically had stars in their eyes.

The arena buzzed with noise.

Oikawa’s fake smile was almost cracking.

Why was Ryosuke getting louder cheers than Oikawa-sama?!

The childish setter was extremely unbalanced inside.

Ryosuke hunched his shoulders slightly, feeling the excitement from the crowd.

He even heard someone shouting his name.

Holding the volleyball, he stepped onto the service line.

The cheers of the audience.

The encouraging looks from his teammates.

Everything felt just like the dream he had been having night after night.

Ryosuke took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and felt the surge of emotion in that moment—while quietly searching for his rhythm.

Across the court, Aobajosai stood ready.

Watari didn’t know how good number six’s serve was, but if Oikawa was guarding against it this seriously, the guy had to be dangerous.

Ryosuke angled his left shoulder toward the net.

Right leg bent.

Right hand tossed the ball.

His center of gravity shifted onto his left foot.

The moment he struck the ball, his wrist snapped forward sharply.

A powerful topspin hook serve shot out.

Watari’s nerves tightened.

No wonder Oikawa had been forcing him to practice receiving hook serves lately.

So this was the reason!

But practice didn’t help at all!

He’d never actually faced someone who served like this.

How was he supposed to receive it?!

Watari felt like crying.

He stared at the ball’s trajectory, his mind racing for solutions.

But he completely misjudged the landing point.

“BOOM!”

Watari’s expression turned ugly.

Completely missing the ball was rare for him.

Right now he felt like a beginner wandering around the starting village.

The Karasuno players were also seeing this kind of serve for the first time.

All of them leaned over the railing, eyes glued to Ryosuke.

Nishinoya was especially excited.

“What is THAT?! What is THAT?! Let me try receiving it!”

“Whoa! Ryosuke’s awesome! Go!!”

Tanaka shouted at the top of his lungs.

People all around turned to stare in surprise.

Daichi awkwardly smiled apologetically to everyone, then immediately covered Nishinoya’s mouth and whispered like a devil:

“If you shout again, I’ll tell Kiyoko not to prepare sports drinks for you next time.”

That struck Nishinoya’s vital point instantly.

He blinked rapidly and nodded.

Tanaka heard that and immediately covered his own mouth too, afraid he’d get threatened next.

The two idiots fell silent.

Daichi nodded with satisfaction.

“Whoa… a hook serve.”

Coach Irihata rubbed his round stomach and sighed.

Mizoguchi nodded.

“This kind of serve hasn’t appeared in matches for a long time. Where did that kid learn it…

I just don’t know if Watari can receive it.”

His voice was full of worry.

Irihata snorted.

“Oikawa’s got a belly full of tricks. He must’ve learned somewhere that Shiratorizawa had someone who could use a hook serve. Otherwise he wouldn’t have forced Watari to watch hook-serve analysis videos every day recently.”

“Whether he can receive it is one thing.”

“Whether he dares to receive it is the real trick.”

To be fair, Oikawa was actually a little wronged this time.

Well… not entirely.

He made Watari study hook serves because Ryosuke told him himself that he could do one.

But Oikawa wasn’t sure whether Ryosuke would actually use it in the prefectural tournament.

He only had a vague idea of Ryosuke’s training progress.

Still—

Luck was also part of strength.

Just like predicting exam questions.

Oikawa’s preparation this time was truly foresighted.

“BOOM!”

Watari barely brushed past the ball.

It was simply too fast.

He didn’t even have time to judge the spin or the landing point and could only react by instinct.

Mizoguchi watched anxiously.

Irihata looked calm on the surface.

But his tightly clenched hands betrayed how uneasy he really felt.

“Coach Irihata… how are you supposed to receive a hook serve?”

Irihata finally stopped pretending to be calm. He sighed and spoke slowly.

“Hook serves are really hard to receive.”

“First is the trajectory. Compared to normal serves, hook serves are more deceptive. Sometimes you can’t even see the exact moment of contact—you just watch the ball’s arc.”

“Topspin rises upward. Backspin floats.”

As he spoke, he gestured the receiving motion with his hands.

“Side spin is easier to handle. Just try to receive it toward the opponent’s center line.”

“If you can’t judge the spin, treat it as topspin.”

“Most hook serves are strong topspin anyway. Push the ball upward when receiving. Of course, sometimes it’ll still drop into the net.”

“Pay attention to the arc of balls that fall short.”

“No matter how unfamiliar a serve is, once you receive enough of them, it gets easier.”

“At first Watari also struggled receiving Oikawa’s powerful jump serves.”

“But now he reacts to them almost by instinct.”

“Don’t be afraid of taking the ball.”

“You have to commit. Be decisive.”

“In the past, you could count the liberos in Miyagi who could receive hook serves on one hand…”

Mizoguchi felt uneasy.

Facing Shiratorizawa was already difficult enough.

Now there was also a hook serve.

Things just got even harder.

“Hmph… if Coach says that, then there must be a way to deal with it, right?”

Kunimi, who had been listening the whole time with half-closed eyes, finally spoke lazily.

Irihata wasn’t annoyed at the interruption.

He simply smiled kindly.

...

Chapter 113

The third serve.

Watari hadn’t even touched the first two balls, so his mindset was naturally a little shaken.

Ryosuke swung his arm for the third serve. He wasn’t feeling great either—his left shoulder was starting to ache with a faint, pulling pain.

“Bang!”

The ball arced upward immediately—clearly a topspin.

Watari’s entire body tensed. Lips pressed tight, he moved in to receive it.

As the ball flew toward him, Watari’s eyes lit up.

This one was manageable!

He adjusted his steps, locked in the landing point, bent his body, and shifted his center of gravity to absorb the ball.

“Bang!”

He got it!

The joy hadn’t even appeared on Watari’s face yet when he realized—

the power behind the ball was too strong.

He didn’t have time to soften the impact, and the ball bounced straight back out.

“Beeeep—”

The Aobajosai side fell into dead silence.

After a moment, voices began offering encouragement.

The veins on Oikawa’s forehead were practically popping.

“It’s fine, Watari! Next one—get it up!”

Watari nodded.

No one could quite see the expression in his eyes.

On Shiratorizawa’s side, however, things were lively.

Everyone was cheering.

No one disliked this kind of exhilarating, power-fantasy-like momentum. No one.

“Ryosuke! Ryosuke! One more!”

“Shiratorizawa! Shiratorizawa!”

The stands were buzzing.

Ryosuke narrowed his eyes with a smile, which immediately triggered another wave of excited screams from the girls in the crowd.

He could even hear people calling his name.

He turned his head away with a slightly proud huff, looking just like an aloof cat.

...

In the infirmary, Tendo stared blankly at the livestream of the match.

He didn’t even notice that his IV had already finished.

Watching Ryosuke smiling so brightly on the court, Tendo felt something in his chest burn.

…Such a beautiful cat…

…should be locked inside a cage made of gold.

Tendo’s crimson pupils widened excitedly at the thought, his gaze growing sharp and predatory as he stared at the screen.

...

Back on the court, Ryosuke rolled his shoulder a little stiffly and stepped up with the volleyball to serve the fourth ball.

Oikawa’s expression was dark.

These serves had already stretched the score to 19:16.

If Ryosuke scored again, Shiratorizawa would hit twenty.

That would be very bad.

Irihata noticed the subtle movement in Ryosuke’s arm and said thoughtfully,

“The mistake will come within these next two serves.”

Mizoguchi looked puzzled.

“How can you tell number six is about to make a mistake?”

Irihata smiled with narrowed eyes.

“The hook serve puts a huge strain on the body. And that kid clearly hasn’t mastered it for long. His shoulder probably can’t hold out much longer.”

...

When Ryosuke served the fourth ball, the soreness in his arm was obvious.

He sighed quietly to himself.

He really shouldn’t have used the hook serve in the prefectural tournament. He hadn’t even fully mastered it yet, and now his arm couldn’t handle it.

“Watari! Don’t get nervous!”

“Bang!”

The fourth serve didn’t carry the same power as before.

Purely because Ryosuke’s arm limited his strength.

Otherwise, he probably could’ve shaved another five or six points off the board.

Watari adapted quickly.

In just three serves, he had already begun adjusting to the spin and speed.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa could only watch anxiously as the ball flew again.

Watari sprinted to adjust his position.

He glanced up at the ball and dashed forward.

Faster!

Just a little faster!

Just a bit more and he could reach it!

He threw himself forward in a diving save—

But the ball landed just a few centimeters from his fingertips.

So close.

Watari slammed his fist into the floor in frustration.

Oikawa reached down and pulled him up.

At that moment, Coach Irihata called a timeout.

Ryosuke, who had been ready to ride the momentum and take another point, walked off the court after hearing the whistle.

He looked a little dejected.

Irihata sighed.

That timeout had been called at exactly the right moment.

Judging from Ryosuke’s expression, he probably felt the same—like he only had one serve left in him.

Usually, Irihata didn’t interfere much during matches or practice games.

After all, with Oikawa as captain, he rarely needed to step in.

But today, Oikawa’s state was clearly off.

As expected.

Whenever Oikawa faced Shiratorizawa, he became a little different.

Irihata gathered the team.

“Don’t worry about the serve. The timeout will break number six’s rhythm, and his body won’t allow him to keep serving like that anyway.”

The team collectively relaxed.

Those serves had been terrifying.

Taking a few more of those would feel like shortening their lifespan.

“Oikawa, come here a moment.”

Irihata specifically called him over.

Iwaizumi turned around in confusion, but Oikawa gave him a reassuring smile before following the coach aside.

Even though Irihata rarely interfered with Oikawa, he could always tell when something was wrong.

“You’re pushing yourself too far today.”

He cut straight to the point.

Oikawa clenched his fist and nodded.

He had noticed it too.

Compared to normal matches, he was far more excited—mentally and physically.

“A string stretched too tight will snap. Don’t rush. Take it slowly.”

In the first half of the set, Oikawa had clearly been more impulsive than usual.

Shiratorizawa.

Ushijima.

They had become his mental knot.

Irihata gave a few brief reminders before letting him go.

The timeout was only one minute, after all.

When Oikawa returned, Iwaizumi leaned closer.

“What happened? Coach chew you out?”

Oikawa grinned.

“What’s this, Iwa-chan? Worried about me?”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes.

Seeing Oikawa acting normal again, he assumed it wasn’t anything serious.

He shoved a towel into Oikawa’s hands and turned away.

“Oi oi oi, is Iwa-chan mad~?”

What Iwaizumi didn’t see was that the moment he turned away, Oikawa’s smile vanished.

His expression went quiet.

Impossible to read.

Oikawa had clearly felt how overexcited he’d been during the match.

“Tch.”

He regretted it.

He had wasted most of the set.

Oikawa’s greatest strength was using tactics and strategy to defeat opponents stronger than Aobajosai.

Today, he’d been too impulsive.

Maybe Shiratorizawa’s lineup full of geniuses had gotten under his skin.

Taking a breath, Oikawa pulled his thoughts back together.

The familiar playful smile returned to his face.

The carefree captain was back.

...

On Shiratorizawa’s side, Reon and Goshiki had practically latched onto Ryosuke.

They were ecstatic.

Yamagata circled him while talking nonstop.

“Nice one, kid! Hahaha!”

“Ryosuke, you’re amazing!”

Ryosuke was almost getting drunk on all the praise.

Ushijima finally stepped in and calmly pulled him out of the three-person pile.

Ryosuke leaned against Ushijima and gave him a slightly dazed smile.

Watching this, Coach Washijō’s originally stern expression softened slightly.

“I won’t say much about your performance in this set. I hope you all know your own problems.”

“Anyone who dodged spikes, slacked off, or spaced out…”

“Add extra practice after the match.”

Washijō’s eyes were like rulers measuring every movement.

Some players looked guilty.

Others looked completely shameless.

Washijō didn’t even want to look.

“The first set is almost over. That kid Oikawa likes pulling strange tricks. Stay alert.”

“Yes, sir!”

Washijō sat down again.

Reon couldn’t help thinking that the coach’s temper had been getting better lately.

After all, once you stay at Shiratorizawa long enough, you see everything.

At this rate, it wouldn’t even be strange if someone suddenly announced they had a boyfriend someday.

(Flag warning.)

...

“Beeeep—”

Timeout ended.

Both teams returned to the court.

Oikawa looked calmer now.

Before the timeout, Watari hadn’t received that serve.

So Ryosuke stepped up again with the ball.

Watari felt annoyed just looking at him.

But remembering Irihata’s words—don’t worry about the serve—he calmed down a little.

The timeout had broken Ryosuke’s rhythm.

Now he would have to feel things out again.

“Bang!”

Another hook serve.

Because of his arm and fading feel, the ball carried less power.

Even the sound of contact was different.

This one’s doable!

Watari saw the sidespin clearly and got excited.

He rolled forward and received the ball cleanly.

“Bang!”

“Ohhhh nice one, Watari!”

“Nice!”

Watari felt relieved.

Finally.

The suffocating domination was over.

The first pass went to Oikawa.

Goshiki happened to be standing right in front of him.

A faint smile curled at the corner of Oikawa’s lips.

He subtly began misleading Goshiki.

His eyes shifted slightly to the left.

Goshiki instinctively looked that way too.

The next second—

Oikawa scored with a setter dump.

Ryosuke had been watching Iwaizumi.

Ushijima and Reon were ready to attack.

The ball dropped perfectly at Goshiki’s feet.

“Beeeep—”

“Ah! Sorry!”

Goshiki looked so frustrated he almost cried.

The ball had slipped away right in front of him.

Before Reon could even comfort him—

Washijō’s voice roared across the court.

“Tsutomu Goshiki! What are you doing?! Your eyes aren’t decorations! Move! Jump! You’re standing there like a wooden post!”

Everyone who had been about to comfort Goshiki immediately shrank back.

No one wanted to get caught in the blast.

On the other side of the net, Oikawa continued provoking him.

“Hey, number eight. You play this badly and still want to block me?”

He even added a shameless grin.

Goshiki exploded with anger.

Even his bowl-cut bangs puffed up.

Iwaizumi covered his face in headache and dragged Oikawa away.

Someone seriously needed to control Oikawa’s mouth.

Otherwise one day someone would absolutely drag him into an alley with a sack.

Ryosuke could only sigh helplessly.

Why did Oikawa-senpai enjoy provoking people so much?

...

Oikawa walked to the service line with a smile, but he wasn’t confident.

He could only increase the power of the serve and speed it up.

That libero looked simple-minded, but overly tricky balls were seen through immediately.

Maybe this was what people meant by “great wisdom appearing foolish.”

Seeing Oikawa serve again, Kageyama got excited.

Oikawa’s serves were too fast.

Back in middle school, Kageyama never had a chance to observe them properly.

Oikawa used to practice secretly just to prevent Kageyama from learning.

But Kageyama still secretly learned it—and succeeded.

For a while after that, Oikawa almost stopped talking entirely.

Now Kageyama pulled out a notebook and scribbled furiously.

One refused to teach.

One insisted on learning.

You run, I chase.

You can’t escape.

Ennoshita watched Kageyama’s frantic note-taking and clicked his tongue.

For someone with such a top-student face…

that handwriting was really something.

He folded his arms and looked back at the match.

By the time this game ended, Oikawa’s serve might no longer be Miyagi’s most threatening one.

The Volleyball Monthly spread about Oikawa would probably have to give half its space to number six.

That number six.

After just one prefectural tournament…

he had truly soared.

...

Oikawa secretly increased the power of his serve and aimed at Yamagata.

This ball carried his full strength.

“OH—HEY!”

“Bang!”

Yamagata’s pupils shrank.

Too fast!

He instinctively moved forward to receive it.

But when the ball approached, something felt wrong.

In a split second—

he shifted position.

“Out!”

“Bang!”

The ball grazed past Yamagata’s left side and flew out of bounds.

“Beeeep—”

Yamagata let out a breath.

“Nice judgment,” Reon said, also relaxing.

Hearing “out” earlier, he hadn’t quite believed it.

After all, Oikawa rarely made mistakes in official matches.

“Ahh—sorry!”

Oikawa grabbed his head in frustration.

Still not working?

How could he make the serve both fast and precise enough to score untouched?

Was it really impossible?

Iwaizumi kicked him impatiently.

“Get up, Trash-kawa! No fooling around in the finals!”

“Got it, Iwa-chan~”

That failed serve pushed Shiratorizawa to twenty points.

The first set was basically secured.

Next up was Shiratorizawa’s serve.

Goshiki stepped up with burning determination.

He absolutely had to win that point back himself.

The sulking determination on his face was almost painful to watch.

He aimed directly at Oikawa and launched a powerful jump serve.

“Bang!”

Oikawa raised an eyebrow.

Was the bowl-cut kid challenging him?

He casually switched positions with Matsukawa.

Matsukawa received the ball.

Oikawa flashed Goshiki a bright smile.

Goshiki’s face turned bright red with anger.

The ball was eventually set to Hanamaki.

Goshiki rushed forward to block.

Their eyes met.

Hanamaki smashed the ball straight through Goshiki’s block.

“Nice spike.”

But the ball was dug up again by Yamagata.

The cycle repeated.

When Aobajosai spiked at Goshiki’s block again, Shirabu frowned.

Were they targeting him?

Not just Shirabu.

Even Ushijima noticed.

From the beginning of the set, Aobajosai’s spikes had been stopped by Ryosuke’s block.

So they started attacking Goshiki instead.

Every time they avoided Ryosuke.

Goshiki himself didn’t realize at all.

Even after being targeted for an entire set, he just thought his technique wasn’t good enough.

Ryosuke narrowed his eyes, thinking.

Now it was Hanamaki’s turn to serve.

After a moment, Ryosuke pulled the still-grinning Goshiki closer and whispered something.

Goshiki’s eyes lit up instantly.

He nodded eagerly.

Hanamaki launched a powerful jump serve.

Yamagata looked up and received it cleanly.

The ball flew to Shirabu.

Without hesitation, he set to Ushijima.

Reon ran to clear a path.

Ryosuke and Goshiki stood at the net, ensuring the attack would land.

“Bang!”

The spike smashed through the block—

off the hands and out.

Matsukawa rubbed his arm with a grimace.

Impossible to block.

Absolutely impossible.

“Beeeep—Beeeep!”

The first set ended.

Shiratorizawa 1
Aobajosai 0

...

Chapter 114

The first set ended, and the players began heading off the court to rest.

Since the finals were played under a best-of-five format, everyone was conserving energy during both the match and the breaks. Ideally, they’d be able to play all five sets if needed.

Once they stepped off the court, the usual noise died down.

Reon quietly thought about what kind of tactics and strategies Aobajosai might use in the next set. He glanced over at Goshiki.

To be honest, he was a little worried about him.

Among the three first-years, Yunohama was the one who usually took care of others, and Ryosuke played with a calm head. Goshiki, on the other hand, was a bit childish—one provocation from Oikawa and he’d lose his composure.

Fortunately, Ryosuke was on the court.

To put it bluntly, Goshiki was like an overexcited husky, and Ryosuke was the leash holding him back. Reon had seen it clearly earlier.

When Goshiki was feeling down, Ryosuke had pulled him back from the edge with just a few words.

That reassured Reon quite a bit.

Goshiki and Ryosuke sat together chatting after coming off the court when Coach Washijō suddenly called out from a distance.

“Ryosuke.”

Everyone’s attention shifted over.

Ryosuke walked over, looking puzzled.

Washijō thought about the current situation. Tendo was still lying in the infirmary, and no one knew how he was doing.

“Tendo probably won’t make it back for today’s match.”

Ryosuke thought to himself, Why is Coach telling me this?

Outwardly, he just nodded seriously.

Washijō could tell immediately that the boy hadn’t understood what he meant. He rolled his eyes impatiently.

“I mean! You’ll have to play all five sets today. You struggle enough when we play three...”

Ryosuke fell silent.

With Tendo out sick, the core of Shiratorizawa’s blocking would fall on him.

Just thinking about playing five full sets made him hesitate.

His expression turned complicated as his mind raced through possibilities. After a moment, he spoke.

“I’ll try to play all five sets. If I can’t, then I’ll have to give up focusing on blocking and switch to ground defense. With Yamagata-senpai there, the pressure should be lighter. But after all the conditioning training recently, I think my stamina is a bit better than before.”

Washijō nodded with satisfaction.

Ryosuke’s greatest strength wasn’t his technique or talent—it was his mentality and his ability to adapt in the moment.

Those qualities would take him far.

After finishing the conversation, Ryosuke returned to the team.

Goshiki immediately circled around him.

“Ryosuke~ what did Coach say~?”

Ryosuke felt dizzy from him spinning around and grabbed him by the shoulder to stop him.

“Nothing much. Just told me to conserve my stamina.”

Only then did Goshiki settle down and nod.

Ushijima noticed Ryosuke hadn’t even had time to drink water yet, so he handed him a bottle.

Ryosuke nodded in thanks.

Nearby, Shirabu and Semi were bickering as usual.

Before they returned to the court, Washijō made a substitution—Reon switched out with Kawanishi.

Why not replace Ushijima?

Because even if Ushijima wasn’t spiking constantly, the team didn’t need their ace sitting out.

Kawanishi rubbed his hands together excitedly, looking ready to cause some trouble.

Washijō glanced sideways at him.

“Know your limits.”

In other words, don’t go overboard. What if he ran into another Futakuchi?

Kawanishi’s eyes lit up as he nodded so vigorously it almost left afterimages.

...

On Aobajosai’s side, Matsukawa and Hanamaki were miserably applying medicine to their arms.

The sight was eerily similar to what Todo and Narita had looked like after playing Shiratorizawa.

Kindaichi, who had been standing at the far edge of the block, had taken less of the impact. His arms didn’t look nearly as bad, but he still seemed shaken.

Meanwhile, Oikawa was already plotting ways to torment Shiratorizawa again.

“Their defense is really solid. If we want to spike freely, we have to deal with the block first. No rush—we can slowly wear down number six’s stamina. By the fourth or fifth set, it should start working.”

“Tch. That’s pretty nasty,” Kunimi muttered quietly.

In the next set he would switch in for Kindaichi, so he was getting ready.

Oikawa immediately hooked an arm around Kunimi’s neck.

“Hey! Is that how you talk to Oikawa-sama?”

Kunimi rolled his eyes.

“Childish.”

“Who are you calling childish? I’m the captain!”

Iwaizumi stepped in, grabbed the flailing Oikawa, and dragged him away.

Even though he was the captain, Oikawa really was unreliable most of the time.

...

“Beeeep—”

The second set began.

Something about Aobajosai had changed—the atmosphere had become strangely quiet. The tempo wasn’t as fast as it had been in the first set.

Was it the calm before the storm?

Or hidden waves beneath the silence?

No one knew yet.

Goshiki stepped up to the service line with the ball and delivered a proper powerful jump serve.

It looked like he had adjusted his emotions.

“Bang!”

“I’ve got it!”

Watari took a step sideways and received the ball with both arms.

The ball flew high into the air.

Oikawa’s first set went straight to Kunimi.

Kunimi: ...

He really didn’t want to move.

But he was the closest to the net, and with the ball already coming his way, all he had to do was jump and spike.

Kunimi pushed off the floor and sprang up.

“Huh…”

Kawanishi looked up at him.

This guy looked half-dead all the time—how did he jump so high?

Whether intentionally or not, Kunimi’s spike aimed directly at Goshiki again.

Goshiki jumped up as well.

But then he remembered what Ryosuke had told him in the previous set.

“If I’m next to you and you feel like you can’t block it, switch positions with me. I’ll understand what you mean.”

“If I’m not next to you, don’t panic. If you can’t block it, deliberately leave a gap.”

“Let them spike through it and force the ball toward the backcourt or straight line.”

“Don’t worry. Your teammates are behind you.”

Goshiki steadied his arms and deliberately left a small opening on the left side of his block.

Kunimi wasn’t exactly the type to overthink things.

If there was an opening, he’d spike.

“Bang!”

Why break through the block if there was a gap?

That was simply Kunimi’s instinct.

Which worked perfectly for Yamagata waiting behind.

Yamagata had already noticed something strange when Goshiki jumped for the block. He quickly moved behind him and crouched into position.

“Bang!”

He received the ball cleanly.

“Nice!”

“Beautiful!”

Even Yamagata had to admit it.

Goshiki had actually used his brain during the match.

Goshiki looked over at Ryosuke, who nodded approvingly.

Ryosuke suddenly felt the strange satisfaction of watching a kid grow up.

Kunimi clicked his tongue in frustration but didn’t say anything.

Meanwhile, Oikawa burst into laughter at his teammate.

“Looks like you couldn’t do it, Kunimi! Hahaha!”

Iwaizumi clenched his fists.

This idiot Oikawa—would it kill him to speak normally?

...

When Yamagata received the ball, Kawanishi immediately stared intensely at Shirabu.

Shirabu turned his head away with a pained expression.

He couldn’t stand that burning gaze and reluctantly nodded.

Kawanishi dashed toward the net.

Shirabu delivered a quick, flat set.

Kunimi and Hanamaki rushed in to block.

Kawanishi extended his hand.

A light tap.

Then a gentle tip.

“Plop.”

The ball dropped softly onto the floor.

Hanamaki froze.

What was that?!

Who told me what that was?!

Since when did a Shiratorizawa player hit a ball like that?!

Even Kunimi fell silent.

Seriously...

He had nothing to say.

Aobajosai had watched Shiratorizawa’s match with Date Tech, but only a few players had actually paid attention—and they were mostly watching Ryosuke’s hook serve.

No one knew Kawanishi could do something like this.

Regardless, the point was theirs.

In the stands, Futakuchi clutched his mouth, his face turning green as he grabbed onto Aone for support.

He looked like he might throw up.

Kawanishi’s play was simply too shocking.

Over in the Karasuno section, Tsukishima was also deep in thought.

As a blocker, he understood freak quick attacks extremely well.

But a smooth tip like that could easily slip through if you weren’t careful.

Number twelve had impressive hang time.

Originally it looked like he was going for a straight spike, but Aobajosai’s deadpan block read it.

So he used delicate control and turned it into a tip.

And judging from how smooth it was, he definitely practiced it a lot.

Shiratorizawa really had players with all sorts of styles.

Meanwhile, Oikawa had been moving around in the backcourt and hadn’t seen what happened.

All he knew was that the ball hit the floor—and Hanamaki looked completely stunned.

Did something happen that he missed?

Kawanishi walked to the service line with a smile.

Ever since learning that trick, it was like he’d unlocked something strange.

He was having more and more fun playing volleyball.

But his serve was still his usual style.

Rough.

Brutal.

A powerful jump serve.

“Bang!”

The sound alone showed that the power was nearly on par with Ushijima.

Kawanishi was saving up for a big moment.

After all, given Washijō’s personality, he wouldn’t keep a player with overly flashy tricks on the court for long.

Watari’s arms felt like they had been struck by stones.

Heavy.

Almost impossible to lift.

The earlier spikes from Ushijima had already taken a toll on him.

After receiving the ball, Oikawa once again tried to break through from Goshiki’s side.

He feinted with his body and drew Goshiki toward Iwaizumi.

The set flew directly above Iwaizumi.

Normally, setters try to lure blockers away to create open space.

But Oikawa was different.

He preferred to line the block up directly against the ace and crush them head-on.

“Bang!”

Goshiki once again subtly left a gap.

Neither Iwaizumi nor Oikawa noticed.

After all, Goshiki’s blocking in the first set had looked messy enough that leaving a gap didn’t seem strange.

But this time something unexpected happened.

Iwaizumi’s spike was too powerful.

Even though Goshiki left a gap, the ball flew too far.

It even veered off course—

toward the coaches’ bench.

Ryosuke watched anxiously but couldn’t move.

He was the blocker. He had to stay at the net.

Yamagata, however, had already started sprinting the moment the ball flew past the block.

He ran so fast it created a gust of wind.

Kawanishi even got dust in his eyes.

Outside the coaches’ bench stood metal barricades with plastic advertisement panels.

Running into them wouldn’t cause serious injury, but if someone fell and had to get up again, the play would already be over.

Yamagata didn’t care.

He chased the ball at full speed.

The coaches stepped aside instinctively to make room.

When he reached the barricade, Yamagata pushed off with his left foot, drove with his right, and leapt cleanly over it.

Midair—

he received the ball.

“Bang!”

The ball flew high back toward the court.

Using the momentum from his jump, Yamagata rolled across the ground, sprang back up, and sprinted onto the court again.

Several veteran coaches sitting near the bench laughed and commented.

The bald one laughed loudly.

“Good kid. Brave and decisive. Great balance too. That whole sequence was smooth. I like him.”

“Yeah, and he actually saved it,” someone beside him added.

In previous years, plenty of players had rushed toward the coaches’ area chasing balls.

But very few managed to save them.

Most just wanted to show off in front of veteran coaches or officials to leave an impression.

But experienced coaches weren’t blind.

Yamagata’s clean, decisive save had genuinely caught their attention.

That fearless determination—

no wonder people always called liberos “real men.”

Most players avoided impossible balls.

Liberos charged straight at them.

Out of ten liberos, nine were fearless.

The last one was just crazy.

The entire arena erupted with excitement from that save.

It was absolutely a highlight moment.

By the time the ball returned to the court, Shirabu had already moved into position.

As the ball descended above him, Ushijima gave him a look.

He wanted this one.

Yamagata had already sprinted back onto the court in those few seconds.

Shirabu nodded with satisfaction.

Their ace was finally asking for the ball himself.

Ushijima had his own reason.

He wanted to return the favor.

He stepped back for his approach.

The attack came with terrifying momentum.

“Bang!”

The ball slammed down between Iwaizumi and Matsukawa.

The speed was terrifying.

This was practically a challenge.

Even most liberos struggled to receive Ushijima’s spikes—let alone middle blockers or outside hitters.

“Beeeep—”

No touch.

Point.

Ushijima hadn’t stood out much in this set so far.

Maybe because he was surrounded by players who constantly broke conventions.

But his threat was still very real.

Iwaizumi frowned.

This match was becoming harder and harder to play.

...

In the next rally, Oikawa, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki began running around the net repeatedly, dragging Ryosuke and Goshiki with them.

Goshiki handled it okay.

But Ryosuke was starting to feel the strain.

After blocking another fake set into a real spike, Ryosuke cursed Oikawa internally.

What a jerk.

All he wants is to drain my stamina.

“Bang!”

Another ball came from the right.

Oikawa smirked provocatively at Ryosuke.

Ryosuke calmly nodded back.

12:14.

Aobajosai had taken a two-point lead.

Oikawa kept forcing Ryosuke and Goshiki to move.

There was no other breakthrough.

The third-years on Shiratorizawa were too experienced to be fooled.

Oikawa received the pass and repeated the trick.

He circled around in front of Goshiki, pretending to set to Iwaizumi on the right.

Goshiki hesitated.

He had been tricked too many times already.

But his body moved before his brain could stop it, and he ran toward Iwaizumi again.

Seeing that, Oikawa twisted his waist midair.

He leaned back and executed a back set—

to the left side.

Kunimi, looking as bored as ever, received the ball.

Without hesitation, he swung.

“Bang!”

Iwaizumi looked confused.

Why did my spike miss?

He turned around—

and saw that Kunimi had already scored.

He didn’t say anything.

Oikawa did things like this all the time.

Any setter who made it to the prefectural finals was no ordinary player.

Oikawa was one of the best among them.

He didn’t just deceive opponents.

He deceived his teammates too.

And Oikawa excelled in every aspect.

The most outrageous part was his hang time.

Without strong hang time, how could he pull off so many tricks?

When it came to fooling people on the court, he had endless methods.

Meanwhile, Goshiki looked like his worldview had collapsed.

Oikawa had tricked him so badly he was completely lost.

Iwaizumi turned his head away.

He sighed quietly.

He honestly couldn’t bear to keep fooling the kid anymore.

...

Chapter 115

Although Goshiki had Ryosuke there to steady his emotions, he was still a hot-blooded teenage boy. After being toyed with like that, he lowered his head and didn’t say a word, looking rather pitiful.

Iwaizumi shot Oikawa a vicious glare.

What a jerk.

Oikawa, inexplicably glared at, wasn’t bothered in the slightest. Grinning, he went right back to provoking Goshiki.

“So… not everyone at Shiratorizawa is strong after all, huh? Hahaha!”

Poor Goshiki turned red from face to neck with anger, but he firmly remembered what Reon had told him before the match—don’t lose your temper on the court. He forced himself not to say a word in reply and simply turned around and walked away.

Even Oikawa looked stunned.

Why isn’t this kid taking the bait?

Ryosuke quietly snickered and went over to comfort Goshiki.

“It’s fine. The finals have five sets. We just need to do what we can. Ushijima-senpai and everyone else are here.”

Goshiki had tears welling in his eyes—Oikawa had clearly pissed him off badly. He glanced at Ryosuke, his tone suddenly firm.

“I… got it!”

Ushijima-senpai is behind me. How could I get discouraged?

I’ll score more points for Shiratorizawa!

I’ll score more than Ushijima-senpai—then I’ll have beaten him!

Watching Goshiki’s constantly shifting expression, Ryosuke felt all the comforting words stuck in his throat.

Who knew what kind of story Goshiki had just made up in his head.

Yamagata and Shirabu quietly watched Goshiki’s mood. Seeing that nothing serious had happened, they relaxed.

...

After the rotation, Iwaizumi stepped up to the service line.

He bounced the volleyball in his hand, tossed it upward, and jumped with a sharp motion.

“Bang!”

The ball shot out.

Yamagata ran forward from the backcourt, lowering his center of gravity and slightly bending his arms to receive the ball.

Yamagata: …

He genuinely felt that Iwaizumi’s serves were incredibly powerful—almost comparable to Ushijima’s—but they didn’t really have any special spin or trick.

He was honestly curious where Iwaizumi got that monstrous strength from.

If it were someone else receiving, they might’ve been knocked flat by that serve.

And Oikawa too.

He looked skinny, but his serves were ridiculously brutal.

Was everyone at Aobajosai born with superhuman strength or something?

While these random thoughts ran through his head, Yamagata calmly delivered a perfect first pass.

“Iwaizumi’s serve is really convenient for setting up a spike,” Reon muttered quietly from the sidelines.

If Iwaizumi heard that, he’d probably be furious.

Shirabu glanced at the ball and decided not to overthink it. He simply stood at the net, ready to fill any gaps.

Kawanishi saw Ushijima standing there calmly and immediately understood that Ushijima wasn’t planning to spike.

He glanced at Goshiki, who was still thinking about blocking at the net, though his eyes kept drifting toward Kawanishi’s side.

So Kawanishi took a few approach steps and jumped for the spike himself.

The moment Hanamaki saw Kawanishi attacking, his eyebrows twisted into a knot.

Matsukawa instinctively moved up to block.

Hanamaki gestured for Kunimi to join as well.

Kunimi might look half-dead most of the time, but he never slacked off during matches.

Hanamaki had just given Kawanishi the highest-level block Aobajosai could offer.

Usually only Ushijima received that kind of treatment.

Kawanishi: Should I be grateful?

He jumped into the air and reached for the ball, seemingly ready to push it forward.

Hanamaki narrowed his eyes and reached out to stop it.

Ryosuke quietly tugged at Goshiki, signaling him to watch Kawanishi.

Kawanishi grinned.

The hand that had looked ready to push the ball forward suddenly twisted at the wrist.

Instead of spiking—

he flicked the ball toward Goshiki.

A fake spike, real set.

He had completely fooled Aobajosai.

Goshiki’s eyes lit up.

There was no block in front of him, and the libero was still behind the three-meter line.

It was time for revenge.

He leapt up and slammed the ball down.

“Bang!”

“Beeeep—”

Kawanishi landed and raised an eyebrow provocatively at Hanamaki.

He usually didn’t hold grudges.

After all, he preferred to settle things immediately.

Goshiki gave him a thumbs-up.

“Kawanishi-senpai! That was an awesome set!”

Much better.

Kawanishi proudly put his hands on his hips.

Oikawa stared in disbelief and grabbed Iwaizumi by the collar.

“Iwa-chan, am I seeing things? That was Shiratorizawa’s Kawanishi?!”

Iwaizumi nodded dazedly.

“I… think so.”

Washijō couldn’t bear to look anymore and turned his head away in disgust.

Whatever. Let him do what he wants.

Coach Irihata also looked conflicted.

Was this a rotten bamboo shoot growing in good bamboo?

Why did the style suddenly change like this?

Someone like that should’ve been playing for Aobajosai.

...

The match continued.

After Kawanishi’s unexpected move, Goshiki felt much better, and the tension on the court eased.

Then both teams started trading spikes back and forth.

Occasionally Kawanishi would throw in a sneaky wipe or tip just to irritate Hanamaki.

The atmosphere looked almost peaceful.

“Next ball! I’m going to stuff your spike!”

Hanamaki glared fiercely, clearly getting fired up by Kawanishi’s antics. His hair practically stood on end.

Kawanishi seemed to be teasing him deliberately.

He wandered around the net, mixing up fake sets with real spikes, fake spikes with real passes, wipes, tips, edge shots—

whatever trick he felt like using.

Reon chuckled softly.

“He’s remembering to avenge those two first-years.”

If he couldn’t outplay Oikawa, he could still toy with the blockers.

Semi just smiled quietly.

Sure enough, the “peaceful atmosphere” was just an illusion.

Hanamaki was practically smoking with anger.

The second set hadn’t even gotten serious yet.

Both sides were still hiding things.

Aobajosai had taken a few points earlier by targeting Goshiki, but the gap slowly shrank again.

20:21.

Aobajosai led by one point.

Shiratorizawa still didn’t make any special moves.

Kawanishi, Ryosuke, and even Reon on the bench were all quietly observing Aobajosai.

Aobajosai seemed to return the courtesy.

The real war would start in the third set.

Both sides were saving their trump cards.

But the last few points were now set point territory.

Everyone started moving seriously.

Iwaizumi’s spike brushed Ryosuke’s arm and deflected to the back.

Yamagata quickly stabilized the first pass.

Kawanishi, Ushijima, and Goshiki all prepared to attack.

At a moment like this, there was no time to consider who should attack.

Shirabu’s first choice was always Ushijima.

Ushijima nodded.

Kawanishi and Goshiki rushed forward first to provide cover.

Better to be cautious.

Aobajosai was full of schemers.

Ushijima leapt from the right side of the net.

Hanamaki already knew he couldn’t block this ball—

but he still had to try.

“Bang!”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s arms slammed together, turning red from the impact as the ball blasted straight through the gap between them.

“Beeeep—”

Matsukawa winced in pain and was about to complain when Oikawa walked over and patted both their shoulders.

“Alright, we’ll talk after the set.”

Oikawa himself was irritated.

Shiratorizawa used to be simple—just a group of brute-force players.

Their setter might think things through, but it wasn’t obvious.

Now this Shiratorizawa was completely different.

For Oikawa, it was incredibly troublesome.

He still had to figure out how to deal with them.

He was so irritated he started picking at his fingernails.

...

Now the serve returned to Shiratorizawa.

This was a very bad situation for Aobajosai.

Standing at the service line—

was Ryosuke.

If Aobajosai couldn’t break his serve, they would almost certainly lose this set.

And if that happened, the next three sets would become very difficult.

But were Aobajosai planning something?

Or were they simply unable to fight back?

No one knew.

“Is Aobajosai plotting something?” Daichi murmured thoughtfully.

Sometimes players on the court couldn’t see the bigger strategy clearly.

But spectators watching the match could.

The classic situation—

those involved are confused, while observers see clearly.

Ryosuke walked to the service line with the ball.

He glanced up slightly and saw the wary looks from everyone across the net.

He couldn’t help smiling to himself.

When had he become someone others needed to guard against?

Feeling the faint fatigue in his shoulder, Ryosuke closed his eyes briefly.

Then he opened them and looked at the scoreboard.

21:21.

For the first time in this prefectural tournament—

Shiratorizawa was tied.

For the remaining points, Ryosuke silently swore to take them all back in one push.

“Bang!”

He put power into his shoulder and arm and whipped the ball out.

But the moment he exerted force—

a wave of soreness shot through his shoulder.

Ryosuke’s heart skipped.

His hand trembled.

The ball flew too far.

Cold sweat appeared on his forehead.

This serve… might be a mistake.

The hook serve was notoriously difficult to receive.

Its small arc, strong force, and incredible speed made it famous.

Watari couldn’t guarantee he could receive it based only on those few weeks of studying videos.

So he could only hope Ryosuke would make a mistake.

Watari rushed forward.

After several earlier serves, he had already adapted to the spin.

Liberos were excellent at adapting.

The only problem—

was predicting the landing point.

Even Ryosuke himself couldn’t fully control where the ball would land.

Every serve was slightly different.

If Watari could predict it perfectly, that would be strange.

Watching the ball fly farther and farther, Watari suddenly felt suspicious.

Based on his libero instincts—

this ball looked like it might go out.

Acting purely on instinct, he sidestepped.

Oikawa was startled by that movement.

That shouldn’t happen.

Even if the serve was difficult, Watari would never dodge it.

“OUT!”

Watari shouted loudly.

“Bang!”

The ball grazed the line and flew out.

It really was out.

“Beeeep—”

“Nice! Good call!”

Even Watari looked stunned.

It really went out…

Ryosuke lowered his head with a frustrated expression.

He had felt something wrong with his shoulder the moment he hit the ball.

During the break he had also felt a faint soreness.

If he had known…

he would’ve used a safer serve.

“Did number six make a mistake?”

“Looks like it. He seems pretty upset.”

“Yeah, hook serves put a lot of strain on the shoulder,” one spectator commented.

“Even if it’s a mistake, don’t be sad! Ryosuke is still amazing!”

The audience was surprisingly tolerant toward Shiratorizawa.

In the stands, Udai rubbed his forehead with a headache.

He knew this would happen.

Those still-developing shoulders simply couldn’t handle that kind of load.

Kawanishi immediately comforted him.

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Get the next one!”

Goshiki rushed over.

“Ryosuke, it’s okay! It’s no big deal!”

Ushijima also walked over and nodded.

The tiny bit of disappointment Ryosuke had been feeling instantly disappeared under their encouragement.

He nodded quietly.

With so many people comforting him—

what was there to be upset about?

At the moment Ryosuke served, Washijō had noticed that slight tremble in his shoulder.

He stood up abruptly.

With eyes like a vulture, he instantly noticed something wrong.

That kid!

Doesn’t he know how much strain a hook serve puts on the shoulder?!

Which irresponsible bastard secretly taught him that?!

At that exact moment, in the stands—

Udai suddenly sneezed.

He scratched his slightly long hair.

Was he catching a cold?

...

Aobajosai collectively breathed a sigh of relief.

Now whenever they saw Ryosuke standing at the service line, it felt like their lifespans were shortening.

Seeing that Ryosuke didn’t react much, everyone relaxed.

Even Shirabu turned back without making any sarcastic comments.

Shiratorizawa’s turn had ended.

Now it was Aobajosai’s chance.

As long as nothing unexpected happened—

they would likely win the second set.

Oikawa nodded to his teammates.

Time to attack.

Aobajosai’s block couldn’t stop Ushijima anyway.

Iwaizumi served.

Yamagata received.

Back and forth the rally continued—

until the score reached 27.

Still tied.

The stalemate refused to break.

Kunimi finally couldn’t take it anymore.

He was an energy-saving player by nature.

This fast-paced endgame rally was exhausting him.

Oikawa noticed Kunimi’s gloomy mood.

Moments like this—

were exactly when Kunimi could explode a little.

Oikawa openly set the ball to Kunimi.

Kunimi lifted his eyelids slightly, filled with resentment.

He jumped up for a quick tip attack.

Goshiki, closest to him, rushed to block.

He jumped with arms locked.

But Kunimi was clever.

He would never break straight through a block.

His wrist flicked.

“Bang!”

A crisp diagonal shot landed cleanly.

Kunimi’s attack paths were extremely flexible, and his vision was excellent.

If he weren’t so lazy and unwilling to stand out, many schools would be fighting to recruit him.

Goshiki walked back with a gloomy face.

Kunimi also wore a sour expression.

Yes, he scored—

but it felt awful.

Everything had been perfectly arranged for him.

“Tch.”

He glared at Oikawa.

Oikawa didn’t mind.

He was always tolerant toward teammates who scored.

One point left.

Aobajosai pressed the advantage.

And it was Oikawa’s serve.

Standing at the service line, Oikawa smiled boldly.

Then…

let’s finish this set in one serve.

“Oh—HEY!”

A man with his own background music.

In the stands, Hinata’s eyes sparkled.

So cool…

Kageyama turned his head away with a sour expression.

“Bang!”

One serve—

set over.

“Beeeep—!”

The ball had been incredibly fast, flying straight toward Yamagata’s face.

Yamagata had thought Oikawa would miss again.

Just as he moved to dodge—

he realized it was too late.

The ball landed directly on the line.

A perfect line serve.

Yamagata wiped the sweat from his forehead.

This Oikawa…

During this set, he had gradually increased the power of each serve.

Making the speed faster every time.

That first miss—

had probably been part of the process.

Was he experimenting with a new serve during the finals?

Or was there some other trick?

Yamagata felt his heart rising and falling with Oikawa’s serves.

His expression didn’t look great.

Kawanishi slung an arm around his neck.

“Hey, you’re not upset, are you?”

Yamagata wrinkled his nose and pushed him away.

“No. Don’t get so close. It’s hot.”

“I came to comfort you and this is how you treat me?”

“……”

Behind them, Ryosuke walked with Ushijima, rubbing his arm.

Ushijima gave him a slightly concerned look.

Ryosuke just smiled, signaling that he was fine.

...

In the infirmary, Tendo’s eyes had been fixed on Ryosuke the entire time.

Only when the broadcast cut away from Ryosuke did Tendo finally look away.

He glanced at the thermometer.

37 degrees.

The fever hadn’t gone down.

Right now, Tendo desperately wanted to return to the court.

Not just because of Ryosuke.

Not just because of his teammates…

...

Chapter 116

The second set ended, leaving the match tied. The real battle would begin in the third set.

Coach Washijō watched Ryosuke return to the bench with a displeased expression. The moment Ryosuke saw that angry glare, he instinctively shrank his neck and quietly slipped behind Ushijima.

Ushijima, who had been facing Coach Washijō’s anger head-on, didn’t indulge Ryosuke this time. He simply stepped aside, exposing Ryosuke behind him.

Ryosuke shot Ushijima a resentful look.

Washijō glared at him.

“Looking at him won’t help! Get over here!”

Ryosuke trudged over miserably.

Reon snickered quietly at Ushijima. It was rare to see such a childish side of him.

Yamagata and Kawanishi were busy giving Goshiki a bit of psychological support. In the previous set, Oikawa had nearly provoked Goshiki into losing his temper. If Ryosuke hadn’t stepped in to calm him down, Goshiki might have started yelling right on the court.

Washijō began scolding Ryosuke irritably.

“I don’t even know who taught you that hook serve! If you wanted to learn it, did I stop you? No! But if you’re going to learn it, at least finish learning it properly! Pay attention to your own weaknesses! If you end up injuring yourself and can’t play—then what?!”

Washijō kept lecturing without pause.

To outsiders, it simply looked like the Shiratorizawa coach furiously scolding a player for missing a serve. Washijō’s reputation was taking damage for nothing.

Meanwhile, Ryosuke let the lecture go in one ear and out the other. He nodded obediently, not daring to look dismissive, while mentally drifting somewhere far away.

Eventually Washijō ran out of breath from scolding him and waved him off with annoyance. Just looking at this kid made his blood pressure rise—sooner or later he was going to have a stroke.

Goshiki and Yamagata were no longer upset. Everyone’s attention had shifted to Washijō.

Human nature really was gossip-loving.

Ryosuke walked back bitterly. As he passed Ushijima, he gave a small “hmph.”

Ushijima rubbed his nose but didn’t say anything, while Reon chuckled beside him.

Goshiki and Yamagata immediately crowded around Ryosuke, chattering away about who knew what.

...

Over on the Aobajosai side, they had clearly heard Washijō yelling.

Watari, who had been wiping sweat, leaned over to take a look. When he realized the one being scolded was the number six who had been firing those terrifying hook serves, he suddenly perked up.

He immediately started talking about Ryosuke with Oikawa.

“How did you even know someone could use a hook serve? That thing was ridiculously hard to receive. But Coach Washijō is way too strict, isn’t he? It was only one mistake. Did he really need to scold him like that?”

Watari was still defending Ryosuke.

Oikawa smiled in amusement.

“That number six is Washijō’s grandson. He’s probably scolding him for not paying attention to his physical condition.”

Watari froze.

He had thought number six was the poor victim.

Turns out the real victim was himself.

Watari fell silent.

Hanamaki laughed heartily beside him, while Iwaizumi curled his lips slightly.

Oikawa narrowed his eyes like a sly fox.

“Alright, enough laughing.”

He gathered everyone together for another discussion.

“If number six hadn’t made that mistake earlier, we would’ve lost two sets in a row. But luck is part of strength too. From here on, the third set is where the real match begins.”

“The first two sets already drained a lot of stamina from number six and number eight. Our goal is to force number six off the court.”

“This match—we cannot lose.”

Everyone nodded seriously.

“Yes!!”

“Alright! Let’s go! Seijo!”

“Beeeep—”

The whistle blew.

Washijō stopped talking. This set, Reon and Kawanishi would be back on the court.

Ryosuke put down his water bottle and tightened the knee pads around his knees. The team medic had just applied ointment to his arm again, and it was now faintly warm.

Standing ahead of him, Reon turned around and gestured.

“Come on, let’s go!”

Ryosuke stood and walked toward the court.

The third set began.

...

Since Aobajosai had won the second set, they would serve first.

Oikawa bounced the ball up and down, feeling for the rhythm. His line serve from the previous set had worked perfectly, and now he had better control of the landing point.

He slowly walked to the service line and gave a silent greeting toward the opposite side.

Then he tossed the ball.

“Oh—HEY!”

“BANG!”

The ball shot forward like a bullet.

Yamagata’s vision blurred.

That was way too fast.

His legs had barely started moving when the ball had already slipped past Ushijima and Reon, then flew past Shirabu before smashing onto the court.

No-touch ace.

Ryosuke turned around in surprise.

“BANG!”

“BEEP—”

Yamagata froze.

How was it this fast?

Oikawa’s serves in the previous two sets hadn’t been this powerful.

Oikawa clenched his fist.

“Ha! I knew Lord Oikawa could do it!”

Iwaizumi shouted,

“Nice one!”

“Aobajosai! Aobajosai! The strongest!”

“Oikawa! Oikawa! One more serve!”

The Aobajosai cheering section exploded.

Yamagata stared at Oikawa with blazing eyes.

This guy’s serves were seriously exciting.

Oikawa felt uncomfortable under that stare and awkwardly rolled his eyes before preparing the second serve.

Even before the whistle blew, Yamagata had already assumed his receiving stance near the center of the backcourt so he could cover both sides.

“Oh—HEY!”

The audience’s background chant was still loud and clear.

Yamagata wanted to break Oikawa’s serve on this second ball, but judging by the speed, it wouldn’t be easy.

“BANG!”

The ball curved toward the right side.

Shirabu stepped aside slightly to give Yamagata space.

Yamagata lunged forward and slid across the floor, arms extended.

The ball slammed into his arms and bounced away.

He hadn’t managed to absorb the force in time.

“BEEP—”

Yamagata felt the power of that serve and couldn’t help admiring Aobajosai.

Everyone on that team was a monster.

That kind of power could rival Reon’s spikes.

And the placement was incredibly precise.

But the third serve probably wouldn’t be as strong.

A sudden power jump serve like that, without systematic training, often led to mistakes.

Attempting it in a match like this…

Oikawa really was a genius.

...

Third serve.

The first two had taken a lot out of Oikawa.

Now his strength was starting to fade.

Originally he had wanted to score five points in one go, but that seemed unlikely now.

“Oh—HEY!”

With the familiar audience chant behind him, Oikawa’s slender yet powerful body leapt into the air.

“BANG!”

The ball flew toward the left side.

Yamagata ran without stopping.

Oikawa watched the serve and felt slightly dissatisfied with his own performance.

Yamagata immediately noticed the ball was slower than the previous two.

He accelerated, running past Ryosuke and Ushijima before rolling sideways.

He received the ball cleanly.

“Nice!”

Reon cheered.

The team immediately began organizing an attack.

Ryosuke and Goshiki stood at the net—one preparing to block, the other glancing up to see whether Shirabu might set him the first ball.

Ushijima charged toward the net.

Shirabu didn’t hesitate and set the ball straight to him.

He was only one step away from Ushijima.

As Ushijima jumped, they executed a quick attack together.

Matsukawa and Kunimi rushed to block.

The moment their hands reached the ball—

“BANG!”

The ball slammed into Kunimi’s hands, leaving a bright red mark before blasting through and hitting the Aobajosai floor.

Kunimi rubbed his arm, looking like he might collapse.

Matsukawa panicked.

“Kunimi! Are you okay?!”

That shout drew everyone’s attention.

Kunimi stood there in a daze while Oikawa tried desperately not to laugh, his shoulders shaking.

Kunimi glared at Ushijima and walked away.

Kunimi: Who understands this feeling? I almost got killed by a volleyball today.

Ushijima looked confused.

Reon sighed and held his forehead.

...

Now it was Ushijima’s turn to serve.

He silently carried the ball to the service line.

Strangely enough, whenever other Shiratorizawa players served, the crowd cheered loudly.

But whenever Ushijima stepped up to serve—

the entire arena fell silent.

Perhaps everyone was overwhelmed by the aura of the ace.

“BANG!”

Ushijima jumped and unleashed a brutal serve.

Watari tried to move to receive it—

but the ball slammed onto the center of the court and bounced away before he could react.

Ushijima silently calculated how many serves he would need to reclaim the points Oikawa had scored earlier.

“BANG!”

“BEEP—”

“BANG!”

“BEEP—”

In the blink of an eye, three points were gone.

Hanamaki rushed over to help Watari receive.

The two of them were scrambling all over the court, looking extremely miserable.

During the brief pause between points, Goshiki and Shirabu stared at Ushijima with shining eyes like devoted fans.

Meanwhile, Ryosuke quietly decided that he needed to increase his training after the match.

Ushijima tossed the ball again.

His arms spread like wings as he jumped.

“BANG!”

“I’ve got it!”

Watari shouted through clenched teeth, sweat dripping down his face.

If Ushijima kept serving like this, the set would be over.

Kunimi and Matsukawa moved aside to clear his vision.

Watari locked onto the incoming ball.

He confirmed the trajectory—it was straight and stable, with no spin.

He forced himself forward.

In that instant, time seemed to slow down frame by frame.

He adjusted slightly to the left, braced his stance, and held steady.

“BANG!”

The moment he received the ball, he felt the familiar pain and numbness.

Yes.

He had it.

Watari rolled backward to absorb the impact.

But the force was enormous.

His control wasn’t perfect.

The ball shot high into the air—

so high it looked like it might fly out of Aobajosai’s court.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa rushed forward toward the net.

Ryosuke and Goshiki also moved into blocking positions.

Ryosuke quickly judged the ball’s arc.

He stepped aside, giving Yamagata and Shirabu behind him a clear view, while pulling Goshiki back a few steps.

“Chance ball!”

Yamagata took advantage of the opening and received the ball.

Shirabu calmly controlled the pass.

He glanced at Reon.

After three serves in a row, Ushijima’s rhythm might have cooled slightly.

This ball should go to Reon.

Reon noticed Shirabu staring at him while running.

That gaze said everything.

Shirabu had a special “skill” during matches.

If he stared at an attacker for more than one second before setting—

that player would definitely be the one spiking.

In other words:

Whoever he stared at would spike.

Reon rushed to the net.

Strangely, Goshiki—standing behind him—also jumped for the spike.

Ryosuke was completely baffled.

Based on Shirabu’s habits, that ball definitely wasn’t meant for Goshiki.

But regardless—

the defensive line had to hold.

Ryosuke moved sideways to block Iwaizumi.

“BANG!”

Reon’s spike was touched by Matsukawa’s block, then received by Watari behind him.

Meanwhile, Goshiki had swung at empty air.

He blinked in confusion.

Wait… what?

Wasn’t that set for me?

Before he could think further—

Ryosuke suddenly shouted.

“Goshiki!”

Goshiki turned his head.

And saw a volleyball flying straight at his face.

“BANG!”

The ball slammed into his face and slid down.

Goshiki stood frozen.

A warm sensation spread through his nose.

Two streams of blood slowly flowed down.

Kunimi, who had spiked the ball, was stunned.

That shouldn’t have happened.

He hadn’t even hit it that hard.

“Goshiki!”

Ryosuke shouted in alarm.

Washijō saw the nosebleed and immediately became furious.

This kid!

Daydreaming during a match?!

After thinking for a moment, he called a timeout.

The bleeding needed to be handled.

What if something worse happened?

Everyone rushed over at once.

“Goshiki, are you okay?!”

“What do we do?!”

“Team doctor!”

Goshiki stood there surrounded by people.

If he hadn’t known he just had a nosebleed, he might have thought he had a terminal illness.

Finally snapping back to his senses, he waved to Kunimi across the net.

“I’m fine!”

He scratched his head while explaining to the worried Reon.

“Really, I’m okay.”

Ryosuke sighed in relief.

Goshiki avoided everyone’s eyes guiltily and slipped away to the team doctor.

He really shouldn’t have spaced out.

Washijō glared at him like he wanted to kill someone.

Goshiki hurriedly wiped his nose, stuffed cotton into his nostril, and rushed back onto the court—

like someone was chasing him.

Even Shirabu couldn’t help laughing a little.

In all Shiratorizawa’s history…

something like this had never happened.

Goshiki had truly made history.

Goshiki quickly returned to the court.

There was still blood on his collar, but Washijō didn’t substitute him out.

Goshiki might be a bit unreliable and slow sometimes, but he was obedient.

And with Tendo still absent, the coordination between Goshiki and Ryosuke was important.

Replacing him might disrupt that rhythm.

So despite the embarrassing incident, Washijō let it pass.

As long as the kid was fine.

Across the net, Kunimi kept apologizing.

Making someone bleed like that was a first for him too.

He had been startled himself.

Joining Aobajosai had definitely made life interesting.

Not a single peaceful day.

Goshiki grinned foolishly.

“I’m really fine!”

Hearing his energetic voice, Kunimi finally relaxed.

Now it was Hanamaki’s turn to serve.

Compared with the other players on Aobajosai, his serve wasn’t particularly impressive.

But it was very fast.

The kind that went—

whoosh—

consistently quick, though without much power or curve.

Hanamaki was definitely an odd one among servers.