Osamu Miya's mouth twitched. Atsumu Miya really could not fix this awful habit of his. The moment he saw someone good-looking, he turned into a peacock spreading its feathers.
Atsumu Miya was not only like this with Ryosuke. He used to hate Sakusa, thinking that wearing a mask every day made him look out of place among everyone else. For some reason, he just disliked Sakusa. But later, during a match against him, Atsumu Miya saw Sakusa take off his mask, and that dislike somehow vanished in the strangest way.
To put it simply, he judged people by their faces. Seeing someone attractive put him in a good mood. He was the kind of person who could look in the mirror and eat two extra bowls of rice.
"Atsumu-senpai, Osamu-senpai."
Ryosuke greeted them politely.
Atsumu Miya naturally slung an arm around Ryosuke's shoulders, looking as if they were extremely close.
"Where are you headed, little Ryosuke?"
His warm breath brushed against Ryosuke's neck, making Ryosuke tilt his head away a little unnaturally.
"I'm going to watch Nekoma's match. Would you two senpai like to come along?"
Atsumu Miya glanced at Osamu Miya in question. Osamu Miya shrugged, indicating that he did not mind.
So the three of them headed together to the venue where Nekoma was playing.
"Whoa. This started at ten, right? It's only been about twenty minutes. Kiyokawa really isn't cutting it."
The moment Atsumu Miya saw the score, he spoke without any mercy.
But they were standing in the spectator stands right now, so as soon as he said that, quite a few Kiyokawa fans around them began secretly murdering him with their eyes.
Osamu Miya really wanted to shut that damn mouth of Atsumu Miya's. Day in and day out, that mouth of his offended people nonstop. Osamu Miya spent every day on edge, afraid that if he ever failed to keep an eye on him, Atsumu Miya would get a sack thrown over his head and be dragged off somewhere. His ability to draw hatred was seriously impressive.
Ryosuke had only been gone for a short while, but the first set was already almost over.
15:20.
A five-point gap.
Kiyokawa's captain's face was so dark it looked like it could drip water.
"Strange."
Ryosuke heard a spectator muttering beside him.
"Kiyokawa's attacks are clearly really strong, and they've been scoring this whole time, so why are they trailing by so much?"
Hearing that, Ryosuke secretly smiled. Of course it was because they had fallen into a trap.
But Ryosuke was not kind enough to tell them why.
Kiyokawa's strength was not actually bad. Their mistake was using the wrong strategy against Nekoma.
Nekoma was a team with incredible resilience and a talent for lying low. Kiyokawa had planned to disrupt Nekoma's formation right from the start with a two-point attack, but Yaku, the one scraping the floor for Nekoma, was someone even that number one Libero acknowledged. Not to mention, every Nekoma player was a defensive wall in their own right. Kiyokawa had no opening to attack at all.
All they could see was the ball they spiked being picked up, then flying back onto their own side of the court. Or they saw Kiyokawa scoring with their own spikes. They had been blinded by Nekoma's gentleness and thought Nekoma posed no threat.
But throughout those drawn-out rallies, Fukunaga and Kai had been scoring nonstop, one on the left and one in the front row. They had never stopped. And both of them were scoring right near the net.
People were visual creatures, and visual thinking could sometimes be deceived. That was even more true in a match. Although players had to pay attention to their surroundings and every change at all times, not everyone had Ryosuke's abnormal dynamic vision, nor did they have the special talent to hear in all directions and see everything around them.
Everyone on Kiyokawa had had their attention completely drawn away.
Kuroo, who had stood in position one for ages. Taketora Yamamoto, who looked reckless and easily provoked. Kenma, who had always been at the core of the entire team. And on top of that, Yaku, who turned their attacks into duds every single time. Compared to them, Fukunaga and Kai looked especially low-key throughout this set.
By the time Kiyokawa realized what was happening, they discovered they had already been caught in the trap.
"Bang!"
"Beep--------------"
"The final point of this set lands in the hands of Nekoma's Taketora Yamamoto! Kuroo received the setter's toss and turned a fake spike into a real set, linking up with Yamamoto behind him. A back-row attack takes the final point of the set!"
Kuroo looked at the scoreboard and sighed.
Kenma really was willful. He never gave any hints. What if things went wrong one day?
When Kenma set that ball to him, Kuroo's first reaction was pure delight. Their esteemed setter had finally decided to give his captain a chance to show off.
But then he thought about it and realized something was wrong. Kenma would never set to him so openly at set point. That would make him far too easy to target. And with Kenma's cautious personality, when he got ruthless, he would even deceive his own teammates. Kuroo truly did not believe this ball was that simple.
As he moved, he kept watching his teammates' positions.
Kai was locked in a standoff with the opposing number nine, the two of them staring each other down across the net. Fukunaga was on his left, and he liked hitting straight shots on the right, so it could not be him. Yaku had to receive, which meant one person was missing. Tora had to be behind him.
But that did not feel right either. Taketora Yamamoto would never obediently stay in the back.
Then Kuroo's eyes met Kenma's, and in that instant, he understood. This was the kind of eye contact that belonged only to childhood friends. That was how they had pulled off that seamless play just now.
"That felt amazing!" Taketora Yamamoto shouted happily, swinging both arms.
The feel of that last ball had been incredible. If the set had not ended there, he definitely could have used that momentum to take a few more points.
Yamamoto was so happy he even wanted to rip off his shirt and howl, but under Kenma's murderous glare, he slowly lowered his head and gave up on that immature idea.
Kenma withdrew his gaze in satisfaction. In the past, Kenma would secretly cry after fighting with Tora. Now, he could suppress Tora with a single look. What was this called? This was called status within the team!
Both teams left the court to rest.
The first set had moved at an incredibly fast pace. All in all, it had lasted only twenty-three minutes, and neither side had called a single timeout. Nekoma had gone in with the intention of testing the waters at first, but Kenma really had not expected Kiyokawa's players to count as reckless brutes in certain ways.
During the match, they truly had not sensed that anything was wrong. Their coach sat off to the side, so angry his eyes were practically rolling back, yet he still did not call a timeout.
Kenma did not understand why he had not called one, but he vaguely felt that Kiyokawa would adjust their formation or strategy in the next set. Maybe they would switch to a 5-1 or a 4-2. Whichever it was, Kenma could not guarantee that they would win the second set perfectly. The first set had only let him figure out the personalities of Kiyokawa's players. This was definitely not their true strength.
"Sigh."
Kenma set down his towel and sighed softly. Seeing him like that made Kuroo want to laugh. What could possibly trouble the clever Kenma?
Sensing Kuroo's gaze, Kenma awkwardly beckoned him over. Under Kuroo's puzzled stare, Kenma said,
"Kuroo, I just remembered that I ate the apple pie Mom made last night. But I promised Ryosuke I'd treat him to apple pie..."
Kuroo nodded calmly.
"It's fine. I haven't touched my share yet."
After saying that, Kuroo turned around quickly without waiting for Kenma's reaction. He was afraid that if he turned away even a moment later, he would not be able to hold back his laughter.
Kenma had looked so bitter and pitiful that Kuroo thought something serious had happened. In the end, he had been troubled over apple pie all this time. Kuroo was about to die laughing.
There really came a day when Kenma was this childish.
Kuroo tried hard to control his expression, but whenever he thought about it, he could not help wanting to laugh. For a moment, his expression turned a little ferocious.
Inuoka's little heart trembled when he saw it. Kuroo-senpai's expression really could randomly scare a child to death.
Kenma heard the laugh Kuroo failed to hold back, and his gaze landed on Kuroo's back like a knife.
Ryosuke would never know that, for the sake of his share of apple pie, Kenma had actually been laughed at by Kuroo.
Ryosuke was now sitting in the stands. He felt that watching the match from this spot was even clearer than watching from below. The coach's side was clear too, but the field of view was not as wide.
Ryosuke made up his mind to sit here.
Coach Nekomata, I'm sorry.
The break passed quickly. Under their coach's adjustments, Kiyokawa seemed to have recovered their condition. At the very least, they no longer looked like they were about to die, the way they had after the first set.
Kiyokawa Academy was not attending IH for the first time. Their results in previous years had been respectable enough. Maybe they had been lucky. Whenever they reached the quarterfinals, they always ran into seeded teams, so losing there was still understandable. But this was their first match this time. Going out in the first round would be beyond humiliating.
Kiyokawa's captain took a deep breath and shouted to everyone.
"Get yourselves together! We can't go home after the very first match. The people who are expecting great things from us are still watching. Let's push together and take the second set!"
"Yes!"
The first-years on Kiyokawa's side were still just kids. They had never experienced a scene like this before, and their mentality had collapsed in the first set. It was only after the captain and coach talked them through it that they finally steadied themselves.
Kiyokawa really did not have many new players this year, and the coach was very worried. But what worried him even more was that after experiencing the cruelty of athletic competition, these kids might give up on volleyball.
If that happened, he would be guilty of misleading his students for the rest of his life.
The whistle sounded, and the players from both teams took the court again.
Just as Kenma had expected, Kiyokawa switched to a 5-1 formation. It looked like they were planning to shift into a single-point offense.
Nekoma did not switch into a defensive formation. For them, Yaku alone was enough to knock down the other team's entire lineup.
After winning the previous set, the serve for this set went to Fukunaga.
Fukunaga narrowed his eyes, looking very pleased as he accepted the ball from the ball boy. Then the whistle to serve sounded.
But Fukunaga stayed completely still in his serving stance. Normally, as long as the ball was served within eight seconds of the whistle, it would not be considered a violation. Anything over eight seconds was a foul.
Kiyokawa's Libero gritted his teeth, feeling a little nervous. Nekoma was full of awful people. Even a serve had to be made this tormenting.
Fukunaga had a bit of a mean streak. He silently counted down, then served right at the buzzer.
He jumped, his entire figure looking nimble and beautiful.
"Bang!"
The volleyball shot straight toward the Libero's face like a bullet. In his eyes, the ball seemed to be moving at double speed.
"The first attack of this set comes from Nekoma's Fukunaga! Fukunaga served right on the eighth second after the whistle, causing considerable trouble for Kiyokawa's Libero. Everyone can see the speed displayed on the speed tester outside the court. Fukunaga's serve clocked in at 115! That speed ranks among the very best in this entire IH!"
Ryosuke's eyes widened. Fukunaga's serve was this strong? Why had he never seen him use it last time?
Coach Nekomata shook his head helplessly. That kid Fukunaga still could not keep calm. Hadn't they agreed to save it for the quarterfinals? This child really could not hold anything in.
The Libero froze where he stood. His feet seemed glued to the floor, unable to move even half an inch, and cold sweat broke out across his forehead.
"What are you standing there for? Move!"
That shout struck like lightning, snapping the Libero awake. First, he frowned in frustration, then quickly adjusted his stance.
He lowered his center of gravity and bent down, staring fiercely at the volleyball flying toward him. Then he raised both arms to meet it.
"Bang!"
Because the volleyball was moving too fast, it even carried spin. It twisted off the Libero's arms and bounced across the floor.
It was as if all that earlier speed and spin had been fake. After the ball fell from the Libero's arms, it seemed to lose all power. If he had not been the one who had just received it, he would have doubted it himself.
"A brilliant serve! Fukunaga's powerful jump serve was extremely fast and carried spin. Kiyokawa's Libero received it underhand, but the volleyball spun off his arms! Congratulations to Nekoma for taking the first point of the second set!"
The Libero felt guilty. If only he had not lost focus just then. This was such an important point, and he had lost it with his own hands...
The captain walked over and patted his shoulder.
"No need to blame yourself. With a serve like that, even if you had reacted in time, you might not have been able to receive it."
The Libero had been about to apologize, but that one sentence left him stuck, unable to swallow it or spit it out.
"I really, truly appreciate your comfort," he said through gritted teeth.
With the captain interrupting him like that, the sadness in his chest slowly disappeared.
Both teams returned to their positions. Fukunaga held the volleyball, looking very happy.
He knew Coach Nekomata might not agree with what he was doing, and he understood that Coach Nekomata wanted to use him as a secret weapon. But Fukunaga felt that by the time they reached the quarterfinals, his serve would not be enough to impress anyone. His serve was indeed among the best, but IH was never short of Liberos who dared to receive the ball.
Fukunaga could only make the greatest possible use of his advantage.
"Bang!"
"Beep---------"
"Bang!"
"Beep-----------"
The sounds of serves and scoring whistles rang out nonstop. The mental preparation Kiyokawa's players had managed to build up before taking the court collapsed once again, teetering on the verge of falling apart.
"This can only be described as a service massacre! Nekoma's Fukunaga has taken five points all by himself!"
By the sixth serve, Fukunaga did not wait until the buzzer, because he was starting to run out of strength. Serving five balls like that in a row while controlling both the angle and speed was already Fukunaga's limit.
...
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