The Stop Sign
The long, loud final whistle formally announced Senkoku Middle School's elimination in the fourth round of the Prefectural Sports Meet.
There were no unexpected turns, nor was there any miracle.
The opponent secured the crucial final point by relying solely on the overwhelming power of their serve.
Akashi Asuka slowly straightened up, hands resting on his hips, and looked up at the gymnasium lights overhead.
How should he articulate this feeling?
Truthfully, he had mentally prepared for failure before the match even began, as the difference in skill between Senkoku and Kitagawa First was too immense to bridge with a single effort.
Therefore, defeat was the logical outcome.
But... a slight trace of lingering resentment persisted.
"Line up," Akashi Asuka ordered, quickly composing his emotions and wiping the perspiration from his face.
His command, however, was met with silence.
Turning back, he saw the Senkoku players standing motionless behind him, their eyes vacant and their expressions stunned, unable to fully accept that the match had ended.
After a long pause, Omae Masato was the first to snap back to reality. He forced a spirited clap. "Alright, alright! What are these long faces for? We matched our club's historical record this year! We reached the Top Sixteen in the prefecture! Try to be a little happier!"
"Haha... ha-ha," Mishita Ryuhei chimed in, managing a strained smile while clapping his own hands. "Omae is right. This result is the product of... our genuine effort. Wouldn't it be better to end the tournament with a smile, like we used to?"
"Besides, Kitagawa First is a top powerhouse in the prefecture. It's completely normal to lose to them!" He urged, "Come on, Kazama, Kurata, Oda, pull yourselves together. It's time to line up."
...
"Teams, line up."
"Bow!"
"Thank you for the match!!" came the ritualistic dual shout.
After the mandatory bow and handshake, the two teams separated.
As he departed, Kitagawa First's coach watched the backs of the Senkoku team, then glanced at Kageyama Tobio, who was now subtly isolated by his own teammates.
The coach sighed inwardly.
His deepest concerns had materialized.
Kitagawa First's coach had initially hoped that Senkoku would manage to defeat Kageyama Tobio in the second set, forcing the prodigious setter to confront his attitude problems and make amends.
Unfortunately, whether due to Kageyama's overwhelming talent or the slightly exaggerated difference in skill between the two teams, Kageyama Tobio had, in the end, still managed to demolish Senkoku largely on his own.
"If the ability is not sufficient, then even if a miracle descends upon them, they will not possess the strength to sustain it," the coach thought somberly.
...
The Feast of Fury
Leaving the prefectural gymnasium, Coach Shimokawa honored his promise to treat the team to a meal.
Yet, despite the rare, enjoyable food spread before them, not a single Senkoku player had an appetite. Every face was etched with defeat, and the atmosphere was dominated by a heavy, profound silence.
The sole exception was Akashi Asuka.
The "Involution Value" and the system's protective auxiliary mechanism—tools used to enhance and protect Akashi Asuka—did not draw energy from thin air. They functioned by efficiently utilizing Akashi Asuka's inherent physical energy.
In a sense, this was an alternative form of "equivalent exchange."
Therefore, the higher Akashi Asuka pushed his training intensity, the more energy he needed to supplement to recover, or he would risk severe exhaustion the following day.
Thanks to this mechanic, Akashi Asuka's appetite had been increasing almost daily.
"One more bowl of rice!" Akashi Asuka called to the waiter.
This terrifyingly large, casual consumption of food made Coach Shimokawa inwardly wince.
But at the same time, it brought him a measure of relief.
Being able to eat meant that Akashi Asuka had not been completely psychologically shattered by the defeat to Kitagawa First. Compared to improving physique or technique, training an individual's mental fortitude was often the greatest challenge.
"Alright, everyone, eat up! You need fuel if you want to keep moving forward!" Shimokawa Sanwa urged the team to eat.
Mishita Ryuhei, Omae Masato, and the others exchanged glances, then reluctantly began to eat slowly.
As they ate, a sound of low, muffled sobbing began to rise from somewhere at the table.
Everyone turned to look.
The one crying was not any of the starting players, but rather... Nishimori Tomohiko, a reserve.
The team looked confused: "(O_O)???"
"Hey, Nishimori, why are you crying? You didn't even play today."
Nishimori Tomohiko wiped away his tears. "I know, but I'm just so frustrated! Our seniors worked so incredibly hard. If we hadn't drawn Kitagawa First this time, we definitely could have gone further!"
...
The team fell silent once more.
Coach Shimokawa, meanwhile, looked deeply uncomfortable.
"Good grief. I bought you dinner, and now I'm being dragged out and flogged publicly?"
"We worked hard, but the opponent worked harder, and that is why they won. A determined fact cannot be changed. The only thing we can do is plan our 'revenge' in the future," Akashi Asuka stated, his voice clear and measured.
"We haven't graduated yet. The next National Qualifier Tournament begins in October. If you truly feel that frustration, then eating well, resting, and training is all that matters from now on."
"If we become strong enough, we will inevitably encounter Kitagawa First again."
"Nothing more, nothing less!"
Akashi Asuka finished his last bite of rice, slowly set down his bowl, and spoke each word with cold emphasis.
"Thank you for the meal!"
"Coach, may I be excused?"
Shimokawa Sanwa looked surprised. "Akashi, you're not riding back with us?"
Akashi Asuka nodded. "No. I have a few things I need to pick up. I'll head home on my own from here."
"Very well then. Be careful on the way."
"I will. Thank you, Coach."
...
After the meal, Shimokawa Sanwa drove the remaining players home as planned.
Back in his room, Oda Miki immediately dropped his schoolbag, grabbed his volleyball, and headed for the nearest outdoor court...
Nishimori Tomohiko, tears still dampening his eyelashes, returned to his routine physical conditioning...
Omae Masato lay on his bed, his gaze distant, his mind involuntarily replaying the scenes of today's devastating defeat...
Mishita Ryuhei forcefully punched the bathroom wall...
Kurata Neko held a video game controller, but his focus remained detached from the monsters on the screen...
Kazama Jujiro tossed and turned restlessly on the sofa, seemingly unable to find comfort...
They had lost the match today.
While they did not shed bitter tears of resentment, they also did not leave the arena smiling as they once did.
The seeds that were sown had finally begun to germinate.
But whether those seeds would ultimately wither and die, or grow into formidable strength, was a question that only they, through their efforts, could answer.