Ryosuke was half-asleep when he felt someone shaking him. Something brushed against his cheek, and he groggily opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was Tsutomu Goshiki's face magnified right in front of him. Startled, Ryosuke jolted and smacked him across the face.
Tsutomu Goshiki clutched his cheek, looking wronged. "Why'd you hit me?"
Ryosuke gave an awkward laugh. "You were way too close. Did the Date Tech team arrive?" He swiftly changed the subject.
"Oh! They're here. There's this super tall middle blocker on their side. He looks really fierce. Like, this tall… this tall…"
Simple-minded Tsutomu Goshiki immediately forgot about being hit.
Ryosuke glanced around and realized he was sitting on a bench in the rest area. Yunohama was standing nearby playing on his phone. The upperclassmen had already started setting up for the match, and Yamagata and Kawanishi, unable to sit still, had run off to chat with the Date Tech players.
Ryosuke curiously observed Date Tech's arrival. Each of them was built like a copy of Senior Ushijima. He couldn't help but sigh inwardly. No wonder they were called the "Strongest Iron Wall."
In his hazy state, Ryosuke spotted someone with upright golden hair and a patch of black in the middle. He rubbed his eyes.
Did he get up too fast? Why was he seeing an Angry Bird?
He reached out and clamped a hand over Tsutomu Goshiki's still-chattering mouth, turning his head toward Date Tech.
"Who's that Angry Bird?" he whispered.
Tsutomu Goshiki looked around blankly before suddenly realizing. "Oh! That's first-year Koganegawa Kanji. He's a setter."
Ryosuke stared at the new setter with a complicated expression.
There went his ridiculous theory about setters all looking elegant.
Ushijima finished arranging the court and walked over. "Rested?"
Ryosuke looked up and nodded. "Am I going in?"
Ushijima handed him his water bottle. "Yeah. Opposites and middle blockers: me and Reon. Setter: Shirabu. You and Tendo rotate in the middle. Yamagata at libero. I don't know who they're sending out yet."
Ryosuke took the bottle and gulped down a mouthful before setting it aside. "Alright. Let's warm up."
After they left, Tsutomu Goshiki flopped down beside Yunohama. "Ahhh! I want to play today too."
Yunohama adjusted his glasses. "I haven't even stepped on the court yet."
Tsutomu Goshiki whipped his head around with a whoosh, pressing his face close to Yunohama's. "You're not upset, are you?"
Yunohama pressed his lips together and said nothing.
He felt like a complete failure. It was one thing to fall short of the seniors, but even compared to Tsutomu Goshiki and Ryosuke—his own year—he couldn't measure up. It was humiliating.
"Pfft—hahaha!"
Laughter rang out from nearby. The two looked up to see Kawanishi squatting off to the side, having clearly been eavesdropping.
Kawanishi sighed and patted Yunohama's shoulder. "We didn't realize how you were feeling. We don't trouble you much because you're steady. You don't need us worrying over you all the time.
"As for not letting you play, it's so you can watch the seniors' matches more. Honestly, everyone says you're here to take over Shirabu's position. You're the only one who doesn't know."
Yunohama's eyes widened. A crack appeared in his usually cool expression as he shot to his feet.
"You… you're not lying?"
His voice trembled.
The wait had been agonizing.
He'd barely gotten any chances in official matches, while the other two who joined with him were already improving. He'd even started to think he'd spend three years warming the bench.
That's… that's really great…
He lowered his head, hiding the redness in his eyes.
Kawanishi burst out laughing and slapped his shoulder. "That's more like it. Don't lose heart. Shiratorizawa doesn't bury its students. Compared to Tsutomu Goshiki and Ryosuke, your responsibility is heavier. Semi's always unreliable. Once he graduates, it'll just be you and Shirabu."
Yunohama nodded, a spark of hope reigniting inside him.
Tsutomu Goshiki had already slipped away when the two started talking. Looking around at everyone busy with warm-ups and preparations, he realized that in this massive gym, there wasn't a single person left to chat with.
He wandered aimlessly—and inexplicably locked eyes with Koganegawa, who was also looking for someone to talk to.
The two stared at each other, wide-eyed, neither willing to give in.
When Reon walked over, this was the bizarre scene he saw. He shot Koganegawa a complicated look. It was rare to find someone who could keep up with Tsutomu Goshiki's train of thought. Seeing this, it seemed Koganegawa's wasn't exactly normal either.
Futakuchi from Date Tech walked over, glanced at Koganegawa—who was glaring with all his might—and asked, "Why are you staring at him?"
Koganegawa huffed, "I don't know. It just feels like whoever blinks first loses."
Futakuchi: "..."
While the two were locked in their "deep gaze," Date Tech's coach Takurō Oiwakefinalized the lineup.
"Same as usual. First-years are sitting out today. Second and third years on. Futakuchi, Aone, Moniwa, Takehito, plus Kamasaki and Sakunami. The rest of you stay ready to sub in."
The names called were the core of their Iron Wall block. From this lineup alone, it was clear that, just like Aobajosai, they were treating Shiratorizawa with one hundred and twenty percent vigilance.
After warm-ups, the players took the court. It was Ryosuke's first time facing Date Tech, and he craned his neck, openly sizing them up.
While spacing out, Aone noticed the Shiratorizawa players looking their way. He lifted his eyes—and locked onto Ryosuke, who was peeking around sneakily.
Aone clenched his fingers. His face remained expressionless, but inside, one thought kept repeating:
He looks way smaller up close than I expected.
Ryosuke took in Date Tech's lineup—each of them looking fierce and intimidating—and immediately froze, shrinking behind Ushijima.
Catching Ushijima's questioning look, he stammered, "Are… are they all delinquents?"
Ushijima held back a laugh at Ryosuke's pitiful expression. "No."
He glanced at Date Tech's players and hesitated before adding, "They just… look older than they are."
Ryosuke muttered, "But that yellow-haired number nine looks like he's got multiple lives on his conscience…"
Ushijima: "..."
The two teams bowed at the net. Ryosuke kept glancing at Kamasaki, who noticed the look and rubbed his face in confusion.
Was there something on his face?
The whistle blew.
"Beeeeep—"
The current rotation: Ryosuke at Position 1, Shirabu and Ushijima at Positions 2 and 3. Before the match, the coach had instructed that Ryosuke and Tendo should avoid overlapping rotations as much as possible, so their strengths could be used in different rotations.
With this arrangement, no matter how the rotation shifted, there would always be at least one instinctive blocking talent in the front row—Shiratorizawa's first line of defense.
The match began. Date Tech to serve.
Kamasaki—whom Ryosuke had just labeled a delinquent—stood at the service line. He waited until the eighth-second whistle before striking the ball.
Yamagata swore under his breath as he rushed to receive.
What was with everyone serving right at the whistle these days? Did they have to make life this hard for the libero?
He dropped low to cushion the force, but the receive wasn't clean. The ball popped too high.
"Sorry! I'll cover it!" Yamagata shouted as he chased it down.
"I've got it."
Reon calmly stepped in, adjusting the ball's trajectory and sending a clean pass toward Shirabu.
Shirabu nodded and, in one smooth motion, set the ball to Ryosuke.
Ryosuke blinked.
Huh? I'm spiking?
Well… whatever.
He fixed his gaze on Date Tech's side, trying to gauge how many blockers were coming. Everyone across the net was sprinting forward.
Ryosuke took a few quick steps back, curved into his approach, and launched upward, pushing off with both feet. Midair, he tracked the forming block.
A tall white-haired player with side-swept bangs, another with slanted fringe, and that yellow-haired number nine.
His eyes darted.
No one else? Just the three of them?
Then I'll break through—
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Senior Ushijima, who had somehow shifted to Position 4.
Their eyes met.
The trust they had built off the court wasn't fake.
Ryosuke understood instantly. He gave a subtle nod, movements sharp and decisive.
In the blink of an eye, three blockers sealed in front of him.
Midair, he flicked his wrist.
The ball flew toward Ushijima—a fake spike turned real set.
Ushijima gave a slight nod and smashed the ball down with his left hand.
First point secured.
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser