Kageyama's serve scored cleanly—an untouched ace. Ohgiminami's libero couldn't even get a hand on it.
On Kageyama's fourth serve, Ohgiminami's libero finally went all in and barely managed to dig the ball up.
Daichi and Tanaka had been watching closely. The moment they saw the ball come up, they moved.
"Ohgiminami's setter called out, "Nice receive!"
Well, as long as it was up, that was enough. Every ball was a chance.
The ball was sent to the middle blocker at position three for a spike, but Tsukishima, who had been stationed at the net, shut it down.
Watching the ball's trajectory, Tsukishima jumped with both arms extended. The ball clipped his fingertips and flew off.
"One touch!"
"Nice!"
Daichi dug it up from the backcourt, and Kageyama moved into position to set. At that moment, all of Karasuno's attackers rushed toward the net at once. Ohgiminami couldn't tell who Kageyama would set to and stared anxiously at the charging players.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kageyama noticed Ohgiminami's setter watching the back row. Several blockers had also been drawn to the right by Tanaka.
Number One's heart jolted. "Watch the dump!"
But before the words had fully left his mouth—before the opposing setter could even react—Kageyama gave the ball a gentle push. It floated lightly over the net.
Players lunged in from every direction but couldn't reach it. They ended up sprawled on the floor, staring blankly at Kageyama.
"Beep!" The referee signaled Karasuno's point.
Ohgiminami's coach sat in his chair, staring at the scoreboard with regret. Another first-round exit this year, it seemed. Timing and fate.
Even so, he called a timeout.
During the one-minute break, Ohgiminami's players stood together in silence. They all understood their own limits.
The coach looked at their bowed heads and let out a heavy sigh.
"As long as you have no regrets. Ask yourselves—have you played up to the standard of your daily training?"
They exchanged glances, not knowing what to say.
...
On Karasuno's side, after assessing the situation, Coach Ukai decided to switch Hinata and Nishinoya.
Hinata's face flushed bright red with excitement when he heard the decision.
Daichi glanced at him. "Hinata, just treat this like practice. You, Kageyama, and Tanaka! The three of you are not allowed to get carried away!"
Tanaka bristled. "Huh? What does that have to do with me—Ow!"
Daichi smacked him hard on his shaved head.
"I'm talking about you! As a senior, you need to set an example!"
Tanaka huffed. "Yeah, yeah, I got it."
After the timeout, they returned to the court.
Towada spotted the little shrimp who had provoked him in the bathroom earlier. The number "10" was printed boldly on his jersey as he bickered with his own setter while stepping onto the court.
"Ha! Hinata, you idiot! I'll get the ball to you!"
"What if you mess up?!"
"What did you say?! Idiot, idiot! I don't mess up!"
Hinata covered the cheek Kageyama had just pinched red, looking aggrieved. Of course he knew Kageyama wouldn't mess up—but for some reason, he just couldn't stop himself from saying it.
Towada's temple twitched. Were these two really that good? They didn't look reliable at all.
But once the rally started, Towada felt his body tense instinctively.
What the—why does that little guy feel like he's about to devour us…?
The moment he stepped onto the court, Hinata was brimming with excitement. He forced himself to control his boiling blood, his gaze sharp as a raptor as he locked onto Ohgiminami's players.
In the stands, Ryosuke smiled faintly. Seeing the confusion in Ushijima's eyes, he explained, "You'll see their Freak Quick soon. I really like it. I wonder if Yamagata-senpai can dig it."
After Daichi's serve crossed over, Ohgiminami's libero received it. The weight of the ball felt completely different from what he was used to in practice.
So heavy!
The ball rebounded sharply upward.
Towada's expression changed. "It's going over!"
The two middle blockers hurried to the net to contest it. On the other side, Tsukishima shot up as well, pressing both hands against the ball.
Please. His blocking might be "average" (as if), but he'd never lost a joust. With a subtle twist of his wrists, the volleyball brushed against both opponents' palms and rolled down softly.
There was no thud of it hitting the floor—the diving setter saved it with a fish-like dive.
"Nice save!"
"Yes!!"
The libero adjusted the pass, sending it back to the setter. The wing spiker leapt and drove down a textbook cross shot.
But Asahi Azumane picked it up from the back row.
Kageyama adjusted his positioning and, in that instant, locked eyes with Hinata.
They understood each other immediately.
Seeing Hinata dash toward the net, the two opposing blockers jumped to block.
But the ball never came. Hinata landed swiftly, then bolted in a wide arc toward the right side—so fast he was like a flash of lightning, completely shaking off the block.
The two blockers were left stunned.
Kageyama's extraordinary spatial awareness allowed him to set a perfect back quick without even looking at Hinata—delivering the ball to the exact height, position, and timing.
After all, Kageyama knew Hinata's speed better than anyone. The only thing that could keep up with him was the ball itself.
Having shaken the blockers, Hinata took his approach and leapt. His 325cm reach wasn't an exaggeration.
Though Ryosuke's reach was impressive too, there was still a noticeable height difference between them—and Hinata hadn't even undergone systematic training yet.
"Boom!"
The ball grazed Towada's ear and slammed into the court.
"Nice spike!"
"Way to go, you brat!"
The cheers drowned out Hinata.
Towada stood frozen. So when that little guy said, "We're definitely going to win," he hadn't been joking.
But… what was that?
There's no way a human could hit a ball that fast.
The spectators were stunned as well.
"What was that?! That was insane!"
"Was that a quick attack? That fast?!"
"Who's that orange-haired number ten? He jumps so high!"
The stands erupted in chatter.
Ushijima raised an eyebrow and turned to Ryosuke.
"Freak Quick?"
Ryosuke nodded. "Hinata's incredibly fast, and his reach is high. And that setter's accuracy is outrageous. No matter where they are, as long as Kageyama sets it, Hinata will spike."
"Not bad."
For Ushijima to say "not bad" meant they had earned his attention.
"And Karasuno's overall strength is solid too. Daichi-senpai's receives are reliable. Aside from the setter being weak at digging, everyone's well-rounded. Tanaka—the shaved-head guy—looks like a delinquent, but he doesn't really have any major flaws. Their libero Nishinoya used to be the best libero in the prefectural middle school tournament. Asahi-senpai's spikes might not match Reon-senpai's, but they're powerful…"
Ushijima glanced at him. "You think they can make the top four this year?"
Ryosuke hesitated. "Hard to say. It's my first time competing in Miyagi. There are plenty of strong teams. Karasuno and Wakutani are bound to face off. Whether they can squeeze into the top four depends on how they perform."
In truth, Ryosuke felt Karasuno had a chance. But Aobajohsai and Date Tech were almost certain to claim top-four spots. Karasuno would have to fight for the rest.
Ryosuke stood. "Head back?"
There was no need to watch anymore. With the second set at 20:14, Ohgiminami was destined to be shut out. Ryosuke had only come to show Ushijima the Freak Quick.
Ushijima glanced at the scoreboard, nodded, and stood. The two left the venue together.
The moment they stepped outside, Ryosuke urgently began looking for a restroom.
He had just remembered what he'd forgotten earlier.
He sprinted off in agony.
By the time Ryosuke came out of the restroom, the match was basically over. The two headed back to school in tacit understanding. Ushijima said he was returning to the dorms.
Ryosuke said he needed to grab homework from his classroom.
They parted ways.
...
Ten minutes later, the two of them stood face to face at the gym entrance.
Ryosuke: "Weren't you going back to the dorm?"
Ushijima: "…Is this what they call betrayal? Sneaking in practice behind the captain's back?"
They exchanged a look. Neither had the moral high ground, so neither said anything more.
They simply walked in side by side.
Before even opening the door, they could hear voices and the sounds of training inside.
They pushed it open.
Every single one of them was there.
Tendo grinned, draping an arm over Semi. "Told you. Those two were definitely coming."
Semi sighed faintly. "Yeah… so why did you come?"
Ryosuke tilted his head, bouncing a volleyball. "Why wouldn't we?"
Yamagata smirked. "Because he bet Tendo you wouldn't show. Loser treats the whole team."
Ushijima shot Semi a disapproving look.
Semi forced an awkward smile, then turned away clutching his wallet, nearly in tears. My poor money…
Shirabu added coolly, "You practically handed it over yourself."
Semi was too busy mourning his wallet to respond.
Shirabu clicked his tongue and walked off.
In one corner, Yunohama sat slumped, head lowered.
Ryosuke didn't know how to comfort him. Hadn't Reon-senpai said he'd talk to him? Why was he still down?
Ryosuke wandered over to Reon, who was mid-spike.
Reon tightened his muscles, drove forward with powerful steps, and whipped his arm down like a lash.
Just as Ryosuke was about to speak, his eyes lit up.
That angle was perfect for a receive.
He dashed in from outside the court, rolled, and popped the ball up cleanly—a flawless first touch.
Watching from the side, Kawanishi nearly itched to set it. That pass was just too perfect.
Ryosuke beamed, his big catlike eyes curving into crescents. "Reon-senpai, that was an awesome serve!"
Reon: …You just dug it. Stop praising me already.
He forced a smile. "Ryosuke, next time you miss it, then say that."
Ryosuke nodded vaguely, already forgetting what he had come over for.
They didn't dare practice too long. Coach Washijō had repeatedly forbidden secret training the day before. If they got caught, it would be over.
So they dispersed.
That night felt unbearably long for Ryosuke. He'd barely touched a volleyball. Lying in bed, bored, his thoughts drifted.
Suddenly, in the middle of the night, he shot upright and rummaged through his cabinet for DVDs.
Since he couldn't sleep, he might as well finish watching the past two years' prefectural tournament recordings.
He didn't dare turn on the lights. Instead, he pulled out the potato chips he had secretly hidden under his bed.
The faint blue glow of the computer illuminated his face as he watched the matches, crunching away.
...
The next morning, everyone gathered at the gym and stared at Ryosuke with complicated expressions.
His fair face now had two dark circles under his eyes. They weren't severe, but against his pale skin, they stood out dramatically.
Reon rubbed his forehead. "Did you go rob a house last night?"
Yamagata burst out laughing. "You look like you got punched!"
Ryosuke lowered his head guiltily, not daring to speak.
Before he could respond, Coach Washijō walked in, face stern.
At the sight of him, Ryosuke shuddered and quietly shuffled behind Ushijima.
Ah, Ushijima-senpai truly shields him from the wind and rain.
Coach Washijō saw the movement and felt his temper spike instantly—especially recalling last night.
He had woken up for water, as usual. Passing the stairs, he thought he heard a mouse nibbling. Though he was a strict old man, even he found the house a little eerie at night.
When he went upstairs, Ryosuke's door was ajar. Crunching noises came from inside.
Through the crack, he saw the ghostly blue computer light, Ryosuke's blank face, and six or seven potato chip bags scattered on the floor.
His heart nearly gave out.
He closed his eyes, reopened them. The scene was the same.
His blood pressure soared.
Staying up all night was one thing—but how had this brat smuggled in so many chips?!
Though Ryosuke had worn down most of his rigid traditions over the years, "early to bed, early to rise" remained non-negotiable.
That sight had sent his anger straight to his head.
What he didn't know was that when Ryosuke spotted Washijō's shadowed face in the crack of the door, he nearly fainted from fright.
In the pitch-black night, already feeling watched, suddenly seeing a face staring in—his heart almost stopped.
He'd thought it was a hallucination—until Washijō stormed in and unleashed a furious scolding.
So this morning, Ryosuke didn't dare make a sound.
As a child, he'd been quietly rebellious—the type to cause trouble without a word. He once plucked every feather off Washijō's parrot.
Every time, he'd been harshly disciplined. Only over the years had he mellowed.
Now, when Washijō scolded him, he mostly tuned it out.
Still, seeing him made Washijō's temples throb. He wanted to yell—but today was match day, and scolding him in front of teammates wouldn't look good.
After talking himself down, he barely suppressed his temper. At this rate, he really might need blood pressure medication.
Clearing his throat, he said coldly, "Yesterday's results are out. Today at 10:15, we play Date Tech."
"Once the group stage ends, it's straight to the quarterfinals. Don't mess up."
The advisor immediately followed.
"Now, today's starting lineup.
Ushijima, Tendo, Ryosuke.
Shirabu, Yamagata, Reon.
That's the starting six. Adjustments will depend on the situation. Date Tech has multiple scoring options. Ryosuke, Tendo, and Yamagata—you three must lock down Shiratorizawa's defense airtight."
"Understood!"
The three nodded.
"Goshiki and Yunohama, don't be discouraged. Different opponents require different lineups. You'll get your chance."
Goshiki's eyes lit up instantly, practically wagging an invisible tail.
Yunohama still looked downcast but nodded. He knew he likely wouldn't see much court time this year.
After weighing everything—and after talking with Reon-senpai—he decided to pull himself together. One year wasn't the end of the world.
Playing through injury would mean constant leg pain in the future. Playing healthy meant longevity.
After much hesitation, he chose the latter.
...
Later, everyone crowded around Ryosuke to gossip—even Yunohama.
Under so many staring eyes, Ryosuke had no choice but to recount last night's events in full.
When he finished, he was met with looks of admiration.
Ryosuke: "?"
Shirabu gave him a thumbs-up. "Respect."
Reon patted his shoulder with a sigh. "You're the real man on this team. You're the only one who dares openly challenge Coach Washijō."
Dazed by the strange praise, Ryosuke pressed his lips together shyly, then broke into a radiant, embarrassed smile.
...
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