Having witnessed everything, Takinoue Yusuke had no intention of saying a word. He simply caught the volleyball thrown his way and continued preparing for his serve.
Back in their day, this kind of thing was all too common. Countless players with a measure of talent had failed to make a name for themselves on Karasuno's court, ending up obediently seated on the bench or even up in the stands.
If you couldn't cross that threshold on your own, then it was better to quit club activities early.
As self-doubt began to take hold of Yamaguchi Tadashi, flashes of brilliance from his fellow first-years surfaced in his mind.
'In the practice match against Aoba Johsai, I was one of only two first-years who didn't get to play.'
'But the other one was a former MVP of a championship team who chose to quit voluntarily.'
'Their defense in internal scrimmages, and even that serve just now—both were insanely good.'
'What right do I have to compare myself to them?'
'I don't have Tsukki's or Hyakuzawa's height, I don't have Ichinose's or Hinata's athleticism, and my passing and receiving aren't as good as Hoshino's or Kageyama's either.'
'This volleyball team already has them—aren't they enough?'
'So why am I even here?'
'What am I doing here?'
Watching Yamaguchi completely sink into his own world, Tsukishima Kei spoke calmly.
"Wake up, Yamaguchi."
Hearing Tsukishima's voice, Yamaguchi jerked his head up and looked at Tsukki, who had already turned his gaze forward again. This time, Yamaguchi didn't lower his head. Instead, he closed his eyes.
'Think—if it were Tsukki, what would he do?'
'No, that doesn't make sense. Tsukki's tall, his blocking and spiking are strong.'
'He's smart, too. There's no way he'd be called the weak link among the first-years.'
'Idiot! Is now really the time to dwell on that?'
'If I were Tsukki, what would I do?'
'What should I do?'
'Imagine how Tsukki usually acts—there has to be an answer there.'
'Tsukki may look like he doesn't try and doesn't fight for anything, but he actually cares a lot about winning.'
'If the opponent scored off a serve aimed at him, he wouldn't say it out loud—but this is what he'd be thinking.'
At that thought, Yamaguchi sucked in a deep breath, expanding his chest to its limit.
Facing the blond middle-aged man in the opposing service area, he roared,
"Serve it again!!!!"
Hinata Shoyo and Ichinose Guren, standing on either side of him, were startled by the sudden shout. Even the three players in the front row turned their heads toward the sound.
Tsukishima Kei wore a visibly disgusted expression though there was a faint trace of relief in his eyes.
On the opposite side of the court, Takinoue Yusuke, who had just been about to toss the ball, flinched at Yamaguchi's shout.
But almost immediately, the lifeless look in his eyes began to sharpen.
"Hahahahaha! You little punk!"
"Full of energy, huh!"
"Then I won't hold back!"
He gently tossed the ball, and along with his shout, his right arm swung forward, cutting through the air.
"Here it comes!"
Yamaguchi stared intently at the ball's trajectory, focusing every ounce of attention he had, his eyes tracking its path.
'It's coming!'
'Just like last time—it's going to curve!'
Sure enough, exactly as Yamaguchi predicted.
Like the previous serve, the ball carried heavy spin and curved sharply to his right—but this time, the arc was wider, and it landed even farther from him.
"I've got it!"
Yamaguchi shouted, claiming responsibility for the ball.
He dove forward and barely managed a first receive of truly awful quality.
The fighting spirit can rise. Momentum can be gathered. Awareness can change. But receiving technique is the one thing that can't be mastered overnight.
It doesn't improve just because you make up your mind or steel your will.
Yamaguchi's focus allowed him to get the ball up, but his weak fundamentals meant that aside from going high, the pass had nothing commendable about it.
It was nowhere near Kageyama Tobio's position as the team's setter off by miles.
Fortunately, there was Ichinose Guren: a player whose setting wasn't great, but who was otherwise a versatile all-rounder.
Seeing Yamaguchi's pass veer so far off target, Ichinose couldn't help but sigh internally. If he'd toughened up earlier and trained seriously, it wouldn't be this bad.
"I'll fix it!"
Taking just three steps to reach the ball's landing point, Ichinose jumped straight up. In midair, relying on his powerful core, he executed a 180-degree turn and set the ball with both hands.
The volleyball, obligingly enough, flew toward Kageyama Tobio.
"Can't even set properly."
Kageyama Tobio leapt with all his might and, despite receiving a second touch no better than the first, delivered a textbook cross-court spike.
It pierced through the double block of Azumane Asahi and Sugawara Koushi, slicing down at a shallow angle and smashing into the right arm of Sawamura Daichi, who had moved up to guard against a tip.
"Don't set such high-difficulty balls!"
Even though Kageyama's spike was nothing short of miraculous, Daichi Karasuno's cornerstone on first serves was still Daichi.
In a split second, his receiving instincts kicked in, and he raised his right arm just enough to deflect the spike.
Nishinoya Yuu handled it perfectly, popping the ball up to Sugawara Koushi near the net.
"Finish it! Suga-san!"
"Oh!"
Sugawara Koushi's playstyle wasn't nearly as bright and cheerful as his appearance suggested. After all, aside from that one exception, Koganegawa setters were, without question, crafty at heart.
With an underhand bump, he sent the ball in a gentle arc right back to the spot where the spike had come from.
This ball was aimed straight at Kageyama Tobio.
Anticipating that his side couldn't mount an attack and unwilling to give the opponent a free ball, Sugawara decisively sent it to the other setter at the net—Kageyama.
"Damn it!"
Seeing the ball arrive, Kageyama had no choice but to receive it.
The volleyball soared high into the air. Just as the older players' team was wondering who would set it—
A large hand slammed the ball viciously into the opposite court before it even reached its highest point.
As the ball rebounded high, the older players slowly shifted their gaze to the owner of that spiking hand.
Karasuno's giant—Hyakuzawa Yudai.
Looking down from his lofty vantage point, Hyakuzawa didn't imitate his cousin's obnoxious trash talk. He merely lowered his head and cast a calm, detached glance at the opposing side.
That single look was more offensive than any taunt.
Replaying that lightning-fast spike in their minds, everyone felt dazed. Was it really possible to spike the ball while it was still rising?
His jump was faster than the ball's speed?
No—
'He didn't even jump. His knees never bent. He just used his ankles and core to make a small hop, then relied on his height and reach to smash it down.'
Watching Hyakuzawa Yudai turn and walk away, the others finally realized—
What two meters truly meant in high school volleyball.
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Completed version available on Patreon.com/Veltoria