"So, what does that revelation have to do with you blocking their attack?"
Just as the rest of the team began to feel a creeping sense of despair due to Oda Miki's unexpected disclosure about Kageyama's near-professional skill, Akashi Asuka's voice cut through the tension.
Oda Miki looked at Akashi Asuka with a flash of surprise, then nodded. "It is entirely related. Volleyball is fundamentally a team sport. Therefore, the moment one player's ability vastly exceeds the level of their teammates, a critical functional disconnect easily emerges between them."
"From this perspective, Kitagawa First and ourselves are actually the same type of team."
Oda Miki paused, glancing at Akashi Asuka with a slightly complicated expression, then continued: "The difference is only where our 'strong point' lies, which makes our teams look radically different externally."
"But in reality, while Kitagawa First's coordination appears seamless, it is actually the opposing setter, Kageyama, forcefully dominating and dictating the movements of the remaining five players through his sheer talent."
"Therefore, our previous attempts to anticipate their overall team strategy were utterly pointless. The truth is, we only need to accurately predict the thought process of one person: the opposing setter."
"And the setter's execution is simple. Because his setting technique is so overwhelmingly accurate, he doesn't need to preemptively predict our sieve-like block. He only needs to identify the momentary gap in our defense and use his pass to circumvent it."
"This is precisely why we haven't successfully guessed their attack line once. From the very beginning, the opponent wasn't playing a game of chance; he was playing an open-card, 'face-up' offense."
Oda Miki's explanation was clear, logical, and concise. Consequently, everyone present, aside from perhaps Omae Masato who might need a moment to process, understood the core problem.
Yet, despite understanding the mechanics, the anxiety on their faces did not dissipate.
"Hearing you explain it like that only makes that guy seem even more terrifying," Mishita Ryuhei sighed, scratching his head.
"If, as you say, the opponent attacks based on the flaws in our block, doesn't that mean we are completely incapable of stopping him, even if we guess his intent?"
"No, the solution is already in place," Akashi Asuka stated.
...
The Perfect Trap
Beep!
The match resumed.
Senkoku served. The ball was handled cleanly by Kitagawa First's ace outside hitter, and Kageyama Tobio instantly moved forward, preparing to set.
On the Senkoku side, immediately after the serve, Akashi Asuka stood alone near the center, while the other two middle blockers focused on sealing off the right-side hitter, Kindaichi.
Kageyama Tobio was airborne. His peripheral vision swept the front court, and his hands delivered a sharp, precise set.
In the very next instant, Akashi Asuka moved.
He did not follow the direction of the ball. The moment he confirmed the ball had left Kageyama's hands, he rapidly shifted laterally to the left side and launched himself into the air.
Bang!
Slap!
First came the impact of the ball hitting his forearm, followed by two separate echoing collisions as the ball landed sharply on Kitagawa First's side of the court.
Kageyama Tobio landed and looked up, his eyes widening in shock at the spectacle.
"YES!"
Oda Miki clenched his fist, a flash of exhilaration in his eyes.
Although this blocking strategy was his theoretical design, Oda Miki had been deeply nervous about its practicality. He had never tested his theory in competition.
After all, his own physical condition was not strong; even in the previous point, he had barely managed to chase the attack, and only Kindaichi's moment of carelessness had allowed Oda Miki an opportunity to touch the ball.
Score: 3-3.
After a brief, excited celebration, Senkoku immediately prepared for the next rally.
Senkoku's defensive strategy remained unchanged: use the block to narrowly cover the two most dangerous attackers, leaving only one or two extremely subtle openings for the last remaining hitter.
This arrangement was inherently flawed, as it further dispersed Senkoku's already weak blocking formation.
If their opponent had been any other team, they would likely have relied on their primary hitter to simply blast through the fragmented Senkoku defense head-on.
But their opponent was Kageyama Tobio.
His overwhelming, isolated talent meant he was severely disconnected from the actual skill level of his teammates, making him susceptible to a "power trap."
This trap causes the athlete to believe only in the strength of his own ability.
This reliance on personal strength is not exclusive to Kageyama; Akashi Asuka currently shows similar tendencies.
However, the key difference lies in their respective roles.
An outside hitter who relies on his strength becomes the sharpest spear on the court.
A setter who relies only on his strength ultimately faces two outcomes: he abandons his teammates, or his teammates abandon him.
Inability to trust one's teammates results in the inability to draw out their true potential.
Because he distrusted their power, Kageyama Tobio would subconsciously avoid setting the ball into any situation where his teammate might have to confront a direct block, even if the enemy's block was merely a negligible barrier.
Bang!
Slap!
The familiar contact, the familiar concussive force.
As the sound of the volleyball striking the floor echoed again, Akashi Asuka tightly clenched his right fist and thrust it triumphantly into the air.
The previously subdued atmosphere instantly erupted into a roar.
"Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh~~"
"We... we've taken the lead! For the first time, the score is flipped!"
"Go, Senkoku, go!"
...
Score: 4-3.
For the first time since the initial pressure of the match began, Senkoku had reversed the score.
The team's morale soared instantaneously.
On the opposite side, having conceded four consecutive points, the coach of Kitagawa First decisively called a timeout.
Back in the resting area, Kitagawa First's coach looked at the brooding expression of Kageyama Tobio, and sighed. "Kageyama, you must learn to trust your teammates."
"I know!"
Kageyama Tobio replied with a clear edge of impatience.
Judging by his frustrated expression, however, he had clearly not taken the coach's counsel to heart.
Seeing this, the Kitagawa First coach could only shake his head in resignation, swallowing the further advice he had intended to give.
After years of coaching, the Kitagawa coach could recognize Senkoku's strategy for what it was—a tactic not particularly clever, but designed entirely to exploit Kageyama Tobio's psychological weakness.
The simplest solution to break the deadlock would be to substitute Kageyama.
But after careful reflection, the coach chose against it.
"If losing this set can finally serve as a wake-up call for him, then it might not be a bad thing after all," the Kitagawa First coach mused privately.
The team could afford to lose a single set; their foundation was strong enough to rebound. However...