Hyakuzawa had fallen into self-doubt.
But this time, Ichinose Guren did not walk over to comfort him, like he used to.
'If I'm not there… he can't play?'
'Then he doesn't have to play.'
'I'll take care of him for the rest of his life.'
Beneath the neatly slicked-back hair, his deep gaze flickered with a cold calm.
He did not spend a single second worrying about his cousin's emotions.
Instead, he threw himself completely into the continuing exchange of plays.
Kozume Kenma used vision fakes and tiny, almost invisible cues to effortlessly play Tsukishima Kei, confirming his prediction:
This bespectacled middle blocker had quick reflexes and sharp observation.
And then came the only moment in the match where Guren was front-row, directly lined up against him.
Kenma handled it with absolute composure. After Nekoma received the ball, Guren immediately and smoothly swapped positions with Hinata to defend him, Kenma.
Even with Kenma's back to the net, he could feel that overwhelming pressure from behind.
But with his focus locked entirely on attacking, he let that pressure slide off like water.
'Perfect. Come to me.'
Kenma stepped toward the sideline with the pass that was slightly off-center, intentionally drawing Guren with him.
Guren saw the motion and instantly recognized it as a trap.
Nekoma did not mess up first passes easily, not against a serve that wasn't overloaded with power.
But recognizing it didn't change the situation.
This was a public trap. A trap shown openly.
I just scored with a setter dump a moment ago.
If you don't block me, then I'll just score again.
Guren smirked.
"...Heh."
'Let's see if your set is faster than I am.'
'They used this one on me back in junior high.'
Kenma saw that smirk.
'Right. You'll try to beat the ball with raw explosiveness, speed, and jump timing.'
'Then come.'
Relaxed posture.
No tells.
No hint of intent before the exact moment of the set.
PAP.
PAP.
The ball left Kenma's fingertips.
The instant it did, Guren exploded forward, legs detonating like springs.
Ball and player began a race through the air.
The ball arced beautifully.
Inuoka, Nekoma's #7, came in with a full-speed approach, converting speed into overwhelming momentum.
He soared, 186cm of athletic spring, ready to spike.
Tsukishima and Sawamura both leapt to block, Tsukishima even adding approach speed to try and stuff him.
'Trying to prove your blocking's better than mine?'
Guren ignored all three airborne figures.
'Then you're putting stGurength into the wrong place.'
Even though it was a reaction block,
Tsukishima jumped early.
This wasn't meant for Inuoka.
This was a parallel-switch attack.
All eyes shifted mid-air, from Inuoka, to a different attacker.
Tsukishima's expression twisted, tricked again.
Sawamura's eyes said: "Of course."
Guren's returning glance said plainly:
'You're defending Inuoka.'
'But Yamamoto, who just jumped, is the real strike.'
Yamamoto's timing had been early, but Guren's hang time and wingspan caught up, swallowing his hitting angle whole.
I can shut you down anytime.
Damn you!
They locked eyes mid-air.
Kenma watched from below, expression unreadable.
'Strong, yes. But I've already modeled you.'
'You love predicting. You love standing out. Especially when it's your personal power versus theirs.'
'You don't share reads, you act alone unless the success is certain.'
'You believe you can stop everything with your own hands.'
'So… this ball, is not for Yamamoto.'
Fukunaga leapt up behind him, lips curled in a tiny crooked grin.
His thoughts were simple:
'We never practiced back-row attack.'
'But I can try.'
'Will it work?'
'It will. Baka-baka.'
Kenma got his humor.
Which meant Kenma would place the set correctly.
But once Fukunaga was in the air,
He realized he had jumped too early.
Meanwhile, Guren was still in the air.
'What kind of hang time is that…'
Kenma, too, frowned slightly.
'Do you have cheat codes or something?'
The high-level player thought he was challenging a major boss with skill and intelligence,
but this boss…
was something else entirely.
'Hacker?'
Fukunaga held his jump long enough for the ball to nearly fall past him, only then did Guren finally start descending.
He gritted everything into the final downward strike, a sharp, razor-angled spike that flew over Guren's falling head.
Guren could only watch the ball rise again after contact, unable to react.
Even Kenma, usually indifferent to scoring, exhaled softly.
A strange thrill.
The joy of a high-level player using precision to slay a god.
From there, Kenma's control and Nekoma's adapted defense slowly eroded Karasuno's lead.
But Guren's blocking was still monstrous, soft block, kill block, he chose at will.
Once he shifted to soft block intent, it bought time for Karasuno to defend as a unit, transforming his once-lone blocking into a system.
Guren and Tsukishima, learning from earlier mistakes, formed the core of Karasuno's last defensive wall.
The score climbed.
Time ticked.
Both sides reached a tie at set point range.
Then Haiba Lev's serve went out.
Karasuno gained one precious point, just enough to breathe again.
Lev apologized with a sheepish grin.
Nekoma didn't mind at all.
Kuroo smiled:
"No problem. We're still in control."
Karasuno, however, was now one point away from winning.
As they changed possession,
They realized they had drawn the winning card.
Because Ichinose Guren stepped into the serving zone.
Nekoma's expressions tightened.
At the start of the match, Guren's serves were casual, no threat.
But after the timeout, as Karasuno faltered,
Guren's serves began to sharpen.
But, he had been one step short each time.
Because Nekoma kept receiving just well enough to deny him rhythm.
And now,
The moment to enter full rhythm had finally arrived.
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Completed version available on Patreon.com/Veltoria