Kindaichi had never been particularly brave to begin with, and Tendo's stare alone made him tremble slightly.
With shaking hands, he sent over an ordinary jump serve.
Yamagata raised an eyebrow as he received it, feeling a bit disappointed. He'd thought all first-years were monsters like Ryosuke—turns out there were still some normal ones.
Shirabu moved toward Ushijima, intending to set to his ace. Sensing movement behind him, Tendo stepped across to block Ushijima's path, then tilted his head, leaving just a sliver of space for a spike.
No words were needed.
Shirabu instantly understood and set the ball to that exact spot. Under the cover, Ushijima launched his attack.
Iwaizumi frowned. Where did he go? He still hadn't seen where the spiker had gone… Ushijima had disappeared too!
How could someone just vanish on the court? Iwaizumi scanned the area frantically, trying to locate him.
"Bang!"
The "vanished" Ushijima suddenly appeared midair to Tendo's left and drove the ball down with controlled force.
No one reacted in time—not even Oikawa, who knew Ushijima best. He stood there, stunned.
The reason was simple. In everyone's mind, Ushijima was straightforward to a fault, almost a bit dense. He wasn't the type to pull something like this.
But live long enough, and you'll see just about anything.
For Shiratorizawa, though, this kind of play wasn't that unusual. Shirabu's adaptability, Ryosuke's floor defense—everything had been building toward this. Shiratorizawa was gradually shedding its old labels of "rigid" and "overpowering."
This play came together perfectly—right timing, right people, right place.
"Whoa! Ushijima, that was downright sneaky!" Oikawa shouted in protest once he snapped out of it.
Shirabu frowned and looked up, about to argue back—
—but Reon tugged on his shirt and shook his head, signaling him to stay quiet. Though unwilling, Shirabu swallowed his words. No one dared challenge someone like the team's "father."
The score now stood at 15:13.
Oikawa was already starting to feel the pressure. His gaze darkened, his thoughts unreadable.
Iwaizumi watched him with concern. Losing the match would hurt, sure—but if Oikawa spiraled or shut himself off at a moment like this, that would be far worse.
Lost in thought, Iwaizumi didn't notice Oikawa looking back at him until Oikawa turned and gave a reassuring smile. If not for his clenched fists, that smile might have seemed convincing—but as it was, it looked forced.
Watari didn't look great either. The ball that would decide Aobajosai's fate was now in his hands, and the pressure on him was even heavier than what Oikawa was carrying.
Shirabu stepped up to serve. From across the court, he clearly saw everyone on Aobajosai let out a collective sigh of relief—then immediately purse their lips in frustration.
At that moment, they were all thinking the same thing:
"Thank goodness it's not Ryosuke or Ushijima serving."
That alone showed just how much those two had put them through.
"Beep————"
The final whistle blew. Everything would be decided in this last rally.
"Bang!"
Shirabu sent over another net-skimming serve. He didn't suddenly power up just because others underestimated him.
It was still a casual, controlled serve—his composure was rock solid.
Hanamaki had already taken position near the net, ready to receive. There was another reason he stepped in: he didn't want Oikawa hesitating between him and Iwaizumi.
A play like this had to be handled by the most in-sync duo—the setter and the ace. Hanamaki didn't need Oikawa's pity to get a set. He had his own pride.
Iwaizumi let out a quiet sigh and began his approach, silently thanking Hanamaki. From a tactical standpoint, this ball was better suited for him to attack.
"Iwaizumi!"
From the other side of the court, Oikawa locked onto him, eyes unwavering, trusting him as always.
Carrying the hopes of the entire team, Iwaizumi poured everything into the jump.
For once, his mind was completely clear.
In that instant, countless thoughts flashed through his head.
He was already thinking about how to comfort Oikawa after the match… wondering if Oikawa might retire… whether he'd still stand on this court next Spring High…
Of course he will.
That guy definitely will.
Midair, Iwaizumi let out a short laugh, then drove the ball down with fierce determination.
Behind him, Oikawa's gaze softened slightly. No matter how many times he saw that back, it always ignited something in him.
The power behind that spike was immense—honestly, it looked even stronger than when Iwaizumi punched Oikawa.
"Bang!"
Tendo knew he couldn't block it and didn't force it.
In that case—Ryosuke, I'm counting on you!
"One touch!" Tendo shouted, spreading his bandaged fingers wide.
The moment the ball deflected, Aobajosai had already formed their attacking setup.
But even earlier than that, Ryosuke had already moved into position behind Tendo. He knew that, given Tendo's current condition, there was no way he could stop that spike, so he had been waiting there from the start.
"Bang!"
Ryosuke received the ball with some effort, silently complaining. Iwaizumi-senpai's hits just keep getting heavier.
"Over to you, Shirabu-senpai!"
For the first time in a while, Shirabu felt his blood surge.
He slipped into position between Reon and Ushijima.
Ryosuke was seriously sly—even at the very end, he sent over such an ambiguous ball.
Most of the time, when Ryosuke handled the receive, Shirabu didn't even need to think. The guy practically skipped the setter's decision-making process entirely.
What a headache.
Shirabu's instinct was to set to Ushijima—and everyone else thought so too. Hanamaki, Kyotani, and Iwaizumi were all locked onto Ushijima.
On Reon's side, there were only Kindaichi and Watari covering.
As for Oikawa, he was watching the entire court—but his focus remained on Ushijima.
Shirabu set the ball to Reon.
In that moment, Shirabu truly grasped what it meant to be a setter.
Ushijima was no longer just the figure he followed blindly.
Ushijima was still his belief—but the outcome of the match held his instincts in check.
"Damn it!" Iwaizumi cursed under his breath.
"Form the block!"
They rushed over in a flurry, like chicks following their mother.
"Bang!"
Before the libero or blockers could fully close in, Reon had already finished the attack.
The instant the ball hit the floor, Oikawa dove forward with a sharp motion—
—but too late was still too late.
Aobajosai had missed their final chance.
"Beep——————!"
Prefectural Champions—Shiratorizawa!!
The stands exploded.
"Shiratorizawa! Champions! Shiratorizawa! Champions!"
"Ushijima-sama!!"
Cheers rang out as streamers and flowers filled the air. Once again, the crowd witnessed the crowning of the kings.
In contrast—
"Ahhhh! We won!"
Tsutomu Goshiki charged onto the court, yelling, about to tackle Ryosuke in a hug, only to be yanked back by Tendo. Ryosuke was exhausted—this kid really had no sense of timing.
"Nice work, everyone!" Kawanishi grinned from the sidelines. This year's IH—Shiratorizawa would take them all down.
Shirabu and Ryosuke slapped hands.
Everyone looked at them in confusion, especially Tsutomu Goshiki, whose bewilderment practically spilled out of his eyes.
Shirabu actually wanted to thank Ryosuke. If not for that pass forcing him to make a choice, he might never have understood his own heart.
Reon scratched his head and walked over, speaking with a wry smile.
"Shirabu, next time give me a heads-up before you set like that, alright? That was terrifying."
Shirabu rubbed his nose awkwardly, lowering his head without saying anything.
Seeing that, Reon knew he felt guilty again. He chuckled.
"Come on, let's go report to Coach Washijo."
The team left the court, chatting and laughing.
...
On Aobajosai's side, the atmosphere was suffocatingly quiet.
Iwaizumi crouched on the floor, face covered, not moving for a long time. Guilt and frustration swallowed him whole. It was all his fault… his misjudgment… if only…
Oikawa's expression darkened again, as if slipping back into that old, stubborn spiral.
Even Kyotani felt something was off in the air. He accepted the loss calmly—but his desire to defeat Ryosuke and Ushijima only grew stronger.
Watari and Hanamaki were filled with self-blame. If only they'd been a little faster—just a little— they could have saved that ball.
Watari, the one everyone called a real man, quietly wiped his tears with the hem of his shirt.
"Let's go."
Iwaizumi stood and kicked Oikawa lightly.
Oikawa staggered to his feet, but his vision went dark from exhaustion, and he nearly collapsed.
Startled, Iwaizumi forgot his grief and quickly caught him.
"Hey! You okay?!"
Oikawa weakly waved his hand, as if this match had drained everything out of him.
And maybe it had.
Since middle school, he had faced Ushijima again and again—losing, then challenging again, over and over.
For him, that wall had always been impossible to overcome.
Iwaizumi supported him as they walked toward the stands.
The rest of Aobajosai followed slowly behind.
Oikawa felt like he had let the crowd down. Most of them had hoped Aobajosai would surpass Shiratorizawa—but all these years, he had never led them to victory.
Anger. Helplessness.
Even now… they still couldn't win.
His emotions began to crumble.
"Thank you all for coming!"
They bowed in unison.
With his head lowered, Oikawa's face was already soaked with tears.
"Aobajosai, you did great!"
"I'll come support you again next time!"
"Don't be sad!"
The stands buzzed with voices. Some girls were already choking back sobs. Long-time fans who had followed every match for three years watched with heavy hearts.
More than anger, there was regret.
And others, unaware of the full story, joined in offering comfort.
After bowing, Oikawa turned and walked away without looking back, his steps hurried—afraid someone might see him cry.
Irihata let out a long sigh. Another year without the championship.
Could it be that fate simply refused to favor someone as talented as Oikawa?
Feeling dejected, he turned and left, giving the players space to process the bitterness of defeat.
About half an hour later, the awards ceremony began.
A long platform had been set up in the main arena, and teams were called up in groups.
Veteran coaches stood ready with trophies, medals, and certificates.
Students from various schools filled the stands, staying to watch the ceremony. Reporters from Volleyball Monthly and photographers gathered to capture the moment.
The first team to go up was Karasuno.
A team that had been obscure in recent years—even missing the top eight—had finally found its spring, finishing just behind Aobajosai.
Hinata's face was flushed red with excitement as he squeezed between Daichi and Azumane, walking so stiffly he nearly moved in sync on both sides.
Behind him, Tsukishima rolled his eyes repeatedly.
But it couldn't be helped.
This was Hinata's first time ever receiving an award on stage.
Sugawara and Daichi led the way, followed by the rest of the team like a group of little kids.
The coaches looked on and smiled warmly.
Sugawara, Daichi, and Azumane exchanged glances, their eyes already brimming with tears.
Kiyoko Shimizu and Takeda-sensei had started wiping their eyes the moment they stepped onto the stage.
Others might wonder—why cry? It's only third place.
But for Karasuno, they had waited over three years for this day.
Just like their senior once said:
"When the opportunity comes, you have to seize it."
Today, Karasuno caught hold of spring.
"What kind of school is Karasuno?" someone in the crowd asked quietly.
"I think it's the one that used to have the 'Small Giant'? But these past couple of years, people have been calling them 'a fallen powerhouse—the crows that can't fly,'" someone in a white uniform explained.
His companion frowned and shot back,
"That's nonsense. 'Crows that can't fly'? They pushed Aobajosai to three sets and took it past thirty points.
And you call that a fallen powerhouse?"
He was from a team Karasuno had defeated. Their loss had come from underestimating them—but no matter how you looked at it, Karasuno was just that strong.
Udai stood among the crowd, cap pulled low, looking up at Karasuno under the lights…
Karasuno…
was flying high again.
A mix of bitterness and relief welled up in him. He let out a quiet laugh, then lowered his cap and slipped away into the crowd.
Ryosuke tilted his head, scanning the Karasuno side.
For a moment, he thought he'd seen Udai-senpai—but after looking around, there was no sign of him.
Must've been his imagination. After all, Udai-senpai had said he wouldn't come unless it was Nationals.
Somewhere in the crowd, Udai suddenly sneezed. Rubbing his nose, he frowned slightly.
Was he catching a cold?
Tsukishima bent slightly as the coach placed the medal around his neck.
It felt heavy—solid.
He looked at it, trying to ignore the faint sense of joy in his chest.
But deep down, he was beginning to understand…
why his brother had loved club activities so much.
...
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