Shirabu weighed his options for this set.
In truth, there weren't many choices—either Ushijima or Reon.
Of course, he could also use a setter dump. At this moment, that would absolutely catch everyone off guard.
He could already imagine the stunned looks.
"So this is Shirabu? The one who only ever chases after the ace?"
Just thinking about it sent a secret thrill through him.
In midair, his setting motion slowed as if in slow motion. Shirabu made a convincing setting feint, his expression perfectly calm.
Ushijima and Reon both made their approach runs, while Ryosuke stayed behind for coverage.
"Bang!"
Shirabu's left hand lightly tipped the ball.
The volleyball floated gently over the net.
Hanamaki and Kyotani were completely caught off guard.
They had never expected Shirabu to pull something like that.
And using Ushijima and Reon as decoys… that was almost ridiculously extravagant.
Hanamaki couldn't stop his momentum in time, and there was no chance to turn back for the block.
He could only watch helplessly as the ball hit the floor.
Oikawa and Iwaizumi froze for a moment as well.
"Beep————"
Iwaizumi stared with his mouth open.
"Is that really Shirabu?"
Standing at the net, Shirabu heard the comment and let out a faint laugh.
He knew someone would say that.
"Whoa…"
From the bench, Tsutomu Goshiki's eyes sparkled.
For some reason, Shirabu-senpai looked especially cool when he used a setter dump.
Ryosuke gave him a thumbs-up.
"Shirabu-senpai, that was amazing!"
"Don't worry about it."
Reon ran over and said it casually.
He meant that Shirabu shouldn't feel bad about using him and Ushijima as decoys. The third-years all knew Shirabu was a sensitive person.
When they had made their approach earlier, even Reon had been fooled by Shirabu's expressionless face.
Sure, they swung at nothing—but the point still counted.
And besides, it was their own setter. No problem at all.
Reon chuckled to himself.
This version of Shirabu—showing a bit of edge—was actually perfect.
Better than the gloomy version who always seemed to be thinking about strange things.
After scoring that point, Shirabu rotated back to serve.
Faced with everyone's praise, he lowered his head so no one could see his expression.
Reon looked at him but didn't know what to say.
Ryosuke quietly tugged at Reon's sleeve.
Reon lowered his head and gave him a questioning look.
Ryosuke whispered softly.
"Shirabu-senpai's ears are red."
Reon froze.
He looked again at Shirabu and noticed the exposed tips of his ears had quietly turned red.
His face was probably red too.
"Pfft."
Reon couldn't help letting out a small laugh.
Shirabu heard it and his ears twitched slightly.
At the sound of that friendly teasing, they turned even redder. Under the gymnasium lights, they looked almost like polished rubies.
Everyone returned to their positions.
Shirabu prepared to serve.
He puffed out his cheeks and blew out a few breaths, trying to cool the heat on his face.
Then he tossed the volleyball up.
No run-up.
Just a standing serve.
Hanamaki and Iwaizumi—both victims of Shirabu's infamous net-cord serves—immediately positioned themselves near the net.
The ball floated over with a slight curve.
It brushed the tape and trembled there uncertainly, as if deciding whether it would fall back or roll over.
Iwaizumi stepped forward.
Whatever. Preparing to receive early couldn't be wrong.
"Tap!"
The ball dropped lightly onto his arm.
Iwaizumi hurriedly lifted his arms to push it upward.
Against Shiratorizawa's other serves, Iwaizumi usually had to absorb the force so the ball wouldn't bounce away.
But Shirabu's serve was the opposite—he had to put strength into it just to lift the ball high enough.
What a ridiculous contrast.
Iwaizumi didn't even feel like commenting anymore.
"Oikawa!"
"Got it, Iwa-chan!"
Since Iwaizumi had taken the first touch, he couldn't attack.
Oikawa glanced at Tendo, then immediately sent the set to Mad Dog.
Even if someone managed to read it and block it, it wouldn't matter.
Except for freaks like Ryosuke—or the Iron Wall of Date Tech—Mad Dog smashed through everything.
How could Tendo not see through that intention?
Grinding his teeth, he cursed internally.
Oikawa really had no mercy.
Tendo jumped with his arms straightened.
Mad Dog swung directly into the block.
It was a pure head-on clash.
Kyotani's style was actually very similar to Shiratorizawa's—no fancy tricks, just overwhelming power smashing through obstacles.
"Bang!"
Kyotani's spike struck squarely against Tendo's palm with a sharp crack.
Tendo winced in pain as his hand bent backward.
"One touch!"
Even if he couldn't stuff the block, he had to get a touch.
That was the pride of a middle blocker.
Yamagata moved to the backcourt.
Ryosuke shifted over beside Tendo.
The ball's force had clearly weakened after the touch.
Yamagata calmly received it.
"Bang!"
Shirabu sprinted toward the ball, jumped, leaned backward—
—and delivered a back set.
Who was going to spike this?
Ushijima stood in front of him, so it obviously wasn't for him.
Hanamaki immediately focused on Reon.
After all, those two were Shiratorizawa's main attackers.
But the ball flew past Reon—
—and straight toward Ryosuke.
Ryosuke: ?
He jumped and spiked instinctively.
"Bang!"
No one blocked.
To be honest, Ryosuke's legs were already so tired from blocking that he could barely jump anymore.
But Shirabu-senpai trusted him enough to send the ball there.
And there was no block.
If he didn't score now, wouldn't that make Coach Washijō's words come true—
"Tie a dog to the court and it'd still play better than you"?
"Beep—"
As everyone's gaze turned toward him again, Shirabu's lips curled slightly.
He didn't want to admit it.
But being watched like this… felt incredible.
Now he understood why Eita Semi had been so obsessed with being a setter with his own style.
Before, Shirabu thought that kind of setter was just showing off.
But over time, he began to realize—
Setters like him were actually the exception.
A setter who surveyed the entire court.
Controlled the rhythm.
Laid traps.
Manipulated strategy and timing.
Those things were difficult—but deeply satisfying.
Yet for the past two years at Shiratorizawa, Shirabu had suppressed that instinct.
His admiration for Ushijima had buried it.
He quietly glanced toward Coach Washijō.
Seeing no anger on the coach's face, Shirabu finally relaxed.
Then his eyes met Eita Semi's.
Semi looked at him with a complicated expression.
Envy.
Emotion.
And a kind of joy—like someone stepping out of darkness and seeing sunlight.
It was both heartbreaking and deeply motivating.
Semi quickly looked away and glanced toward Coach Washijō.
Washijō sat perfectly upright, expression unreadable.
But one thing was clear.
He wasn't angry.
Semi never expected to see something like a setter dump in a Shiratorizawa match.
What was this?
After the clouds part, the moon appears?
The thought amused him and he couldn't help smiling.
Shirabu's play had worked because it was him.
Anyone else wouldn't have fooled them.
But Shirabu's rigid reputation had been too deeply ingrained.
The score was now:
9 : 6
Shiratorizawa leading.
The fifth set only went to fifteen points.
Every single point mattered.
Oikawa was starting to feel a sense of dread.
And when he saw Ryosuke walking to the service line—
that feeling grew stronger.
Ryosuke stood at the line, volleyball in hand, calmly observing the opposing blockers and libero.
For a moment, Watari and Hanamaki both felt as if they were being targeted by something.
It sent a chill down their spines.
"Nice serve!" Tsutomu Goshiki shouted excitedly from the bench.
Ryosuke turned back and flashed a bright smile.
"Don't worry."
It was another hook serve.
During this match, Ryosuke had gradually figured out several tricks to performing it.
Don't use brute force.
Keep the shoulder relaxed.
Small adjustments learned through experience.
He stood sideways, shoulder facing the net.
Tossed the ball.
His eyes were calm.
"Bang!"
The ball flew steadily forward.
To Ryosuke, it looked far smoother than his earlier attempts.
But to everyone else, even his "imperfect" serves were already incredibly difficult.
Watari sighed deeply.
Why did he have to face this monster?
What did I ever do wrong?
"Bang!"
Watari sprawled on the floor.
Even with a dive, he couldn't control the ball. The impact was simply too strong.
He slammed his fist against the floor in frustration.
By the fifth set, both Yamagata and Watari were nearly exhausted.
And both teams had brutal serves.
This match was a disaster.
"A battle between the strong… it's so cool!"
Hinata's eyes darted all over the court.
He wished he had eyes all around his head.
There was too much to watch.
"Yeah!" Kageyama nodded seriously.
Daichi finally snapped.
He yanked both of them down from the railing and smacked them.
"Ow!"
"…."
"If you two keep messing around, I'll throw you outside."
Sugawara laughed and patted Daichi's shoulder.
"Relax. Don't argue with kids."
Daichi grumbled but stayed quiet.
On the court, Ryosuke was preparing his third serve.
Watari crouched, breathing heavily, wiping sweat from his forehead.
He couldn't allow another point.
One more—
and the set would practically be over.
The third serve came.
This one curved dramatically.
It even whizzed past Hanamaki's head.
Watari committed completely.
He lowered his body and received it solidly with his forearms.
But receiving wasn't the hardest part.
The real test was controlling the impact afterward.
"Bang!"
The force sent Watari rolling across the floor.
His knees—without kneepads—were already bruised purple.
Still…
He thought he had succeeded.
Probably.
He wasn't even sure himself.
The serve had been that terrifying.
Ryosuke watched the ball rise from Watari's receive.
His expression showed the exact same regret Ushijima often wore.
Oikawa had already gotten used to seeing that look.
Ryosuke rolled his shoulder lightly and returned to position.
From the bench, Coach Washijō glared at him like he wanted to scold him to death.
"Nice one," Reon said approvingly.
The first-years had truly shined today.
Ryosuke alone had scored a huge number of points.
Ushijima nodded.
Then, realizing that seemed too curt, added:
"Well done."
Ryosuke smiled so widely his eyes disappeared.
Meanwhile, Aobajosai was in real danger.
Ushijima's service run.
Shirabu's setter tactics.
Ryosuke's service pressure.
Each one alone didn't seem overwhelming.
But together—
they created a massive gap.
Oikawa bent forward, hands on his knees.
His eyes, hidden beneath his hair, carefully studied every member of Shiratorizawa.
Hanamaki nudged Iwaizumi.
"Iwa-chan… Oikawa looks like a villain right now."
Iwaizumi glanced over and saw Oikawa's dark expression.
He rolled his eyes.
"Ignore him. He's just having one of his periodic idiot moments."
Hanamaki nearly burst out laughing.
As they talked, they continued rotating positions.
Meanwhile Oikawa had already started moving.
The previous receive hadn't been perfect.
He ran a huge arc to the backcourt—
jumped—
—and saved the pass.
His back now faced Iwaizumi.
Because he had been running toward Watari while receiving.
Midair, Oikawa twisted his upper body 180 degrees.
From the backcourt—
he fired an incredibly precise long quick set toward the net.
"Iwa-chan!"
Iwaizumi glanced back.
Then stepped back for his approach without shifting position.
Because he trusted Oikawa completely.
When it came to volleyball—
no one was more serious than him.
And Oikawa could absolutely make that set.
"That's amazing…"
Kageyama murmured from the stands, stunned by the perfect long quick.
It reminded him of yesterday's defeat.
A mix of frustration—
and admiration.
"Bang!"
Iwaizumi jumped, studying Tendo's block.
Shiratorizawa's blockers were terrifying.
One more troublesome than the next.
The set arrived perfectly.
Inspired by Ushijima, Iwaizumi decided to force the ball through.
Tendo's eyes flashed.
So that's the plan.
Did he really think Tendo was easy to bully?
Date Tech's muscleheads were one thing—
but not everyone.
Where would that leave the reputation of "Miracle Boy Tendo"?
With that thought—
Tendo jumped eagerly to block.
"Bang!"
The spike slammed into his arm.
Pain shot through him.
His arm was forced backward—
creating a small gap—
and the ball slipped through.
...
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