Ryosuke followed the team out to warm up, then raised his head and scanned the stands. He had the nagging feeling that someone in the crowd was watching him. The intensity of that gaze made his back prickle.
Sakusa was not the only person in the stands staring at Ryosuke. There was also a certain young master, fully disguised with a mask and hat, holding a sign with Ryosuke's name written across it.
Keigo Atobe stepped away in disgust as yet another person bumped into him. The moment Ryosuke appeared on the court, his eyes lit up. He did not even care that sweat had already begun forming on his forehead. He simply kept his camera trained on Ryosuke below.
Following behind him, Matsukawa Hone could only click his tongue. Young Master, why put yourself through all this just to take a few photographs? Could you not have left it to your staff?
Had Keigo Atobe heard him, he probably would have shaken his head and answered earnestly.
"You don't understand. This is the joy of watching someone you raised grow up."
Matsukawa truly could not understand how Keigo Atobe's mind worked, but he respected it all the same.
As both teams took the court to warm up, another large crowd poured into the stands.
After wrapping up everything following their match, the players from Fukurōdani and Kamomedai also made their way over. Shiratorizawa had watched their previous match, so now it was their turn to sit in the stands and watch Shiratorizawa play.
"They're on the court! Look, Ryosuke and Ushijima are out there!"
Bokuto pointed excitedly at Ryosuke, chattering away at full volume.
Quite a few people nearby turned to stare at him. Keiji Akaashi helplessly pulled Bokuto down into his seat.
"Bokuto-senpai, don't disturb the other spectators."
After being dragged into his seat, Bokuto nodded in sudden understanding. Right, of course. He could not disturb other people while they were watching the match.
"Hey, Bokuto."
Hearing a familiar voice, Bokuto turned around.
Kuroo was approaching with the rest of Nekoma. Nekoma had faced Itachiyama that morning. Although they had fought hard enough to drag the match into a third set, they had still lost.
Itachiyama was Tokyo's second qualifying team, while Nekoma was the third. Second and third did not sound very far apart, but the difference became obvious the moment they stepped onto the court.
Itachiyama was genuinely powerful. Even against Nekoma's formidable defense, the match had ended in only three sets without much suspense. Had it been another school, their morale might have collapsed in the very first set.
After losing that morning, the Nekoma players had taken some time to collect themselves. They had known this outcome was possible, but it still hurt. They had not even reached the quarterfinals, which made it difficult to imagine how brutal the semifinal matches would be.
The Nekoma team spent the entire morning accepting reality. Coach Nekomata did not seem particularly upset by the loss. He had even cheerfully told everyone to wait until the IH was over before returning home, since the final matches were always the most exciting.
That was how they ended up here now.
Bokuto was a mysterious creature with an uncanny ability to sense other people's emotions. He immediately noticed that Kuroo and the others were not in the best mood, so he kept quiet and did not say anything unnecessary.
He merely greeted them.
"You guys came to watch the match too?"
"Of course. Shiratorizawa against Inarizaki. Just thinking about it is exciting."
Kuroo walked over to the seat beside Bokuto, tossed his backpack down, and leaned back. The rest of Nekoma followed behind him, smiling as they exchanged greetings with everyone.
"How did your match at noon go?"
Kuroo spotted Hoshiumi sitting in the row behind them and turned around to ask with interest.
The moment the words left his mouth, Bokuto fell silent. Even Bokuto knew better than to poke at someone's fresh wounds, yet Kuroo had immediately brought up the worst possible subject. It was hard to tell whether he lacked tact or was deliberately trying to provoke Hoshiumi.
Sure enough, Hoshiumi's previously expressionless face darkened.
"Not well."
He gave Kuroo a sidelong glance before adding,
"Your match didn't seem to go very smoothly either."
If Hoshiumi was going to be annoyed, he was determined to drag Kuroo down with him.
Kenma watched the two of them trade snide remarks, then silently pulled out his game console.
Childish.
Kuroo looked like someone who had stubbed his toe but was too embarrassed to cry. He was never honest about his feelings.
Yaku hurried to the back row and sat with Haruki Komi and Keiichiro Kanbayashi. With several different teams mixed together, Yaku still felt most comfortable sitting with the other liberos.
When Keiichiro Kanbayashi saw Yaku approaching, he pulled two cans of Coke and a bag of potato chips from his bag. He opened one of the cans and handed it to Yaku, who accepted it with immediate understanding. The two of them sat on either side of Haruki Komi, clinked their cans together, and took a long drink.
"Ah, that hits the spot!"
"Is this how losers celebrate after a match?"
Haruki Komi complained resentfully. He tried his best not to breathe in the salty aroma drifting from the open bag of potato chips, afraid he might lose control and snatch them away.
Keiichiro Kanbayashi looked completely unconcerned.
"I suppose so. You don't need to worry about us, though. We don't have any more matches."
Yaku noisily crunched the potato chips in his mouth while continuing to speak.
"I haven't eaten anything high in calories or salt for ages because of this tournament. I haven't even touched puffed snacks. This feels incredible."
As they spoke, both of them kept turning toward Haruki Komi. They shook the bag of chips in front of him and occasionally raised their cans of Coke where he could see them.
Unable to stand their torment any longer, Haruki Komi retreated into a small corner to sulk alone.
He sighed as he sat there. He had won his match, but lost the right to enjoy good food. Once the tournament was over, he was going to try every flavor of ice cream sold at the shop outside his school.
Haruki Komi made that vow with bitter determination.
Oikawa sat in the back row, peering toward the front as he tugged on Iwaizumi's sleeve.
"What?"
Iwaizumi's tone was extremely hostile, but Oikawa was already used to it.
"Those people look like regulars at the IH. Why don't we go sit over there?"
Oikawa's eyes darted around, making it impossible to tell what scheme he was considering now.
Iwaizumi felt another headache coming on.
"You were the one who insisted on sitting in the back."
"Oh, Iwa-chan, you're the best."
Iwaizumi swore that there were times when he desperately wanted to punch Oikawa in his irritatingly handsome face. The guy was unbelievably annoying.
Even so, Iwaizumi obediently pushed through the crowd and led Oikawa toward the front.
Once Oikawa had taken a seat closer to the others, he realized that no one had approached to talk to him. He immediately grew restless, shifting in his seat and looking around before finally turning toward Iwaizumi.
"Maybe..."
He was about to suggest that they return to the rear seats.
Iwaizumi glanced at him.
"I know what you're going to say, but you'd better keep it to yourself. I'm afraid I might lose control and beat you to death in this beautiful place."
Oikawa wilted like a flower.
How did Iwa-chan know what he had been about to say? Could Iwa-chan read minds?
The more Oikawa thought about it, the more likely it seemed. He began examining Iwaizumi from head to toe, his eyes shining strangely.
Iwaizumi leaned back against his seat and sighed. The stands were filled with people talking, and Oikawa kept finding new ways to irritate him. At that moment, Iwaizumi felt completely exhausted.
While everyone waited, both teams finished warming up.
The match was finally about to begin. The players stood on opposite sides of the net and bowed to one another.
"Let's have a good match!"
"Let's have a good match!"
"BEEEEEP!"
The match officially began.
The right to serve had already been decided before the teams entered the court. As expected, Shiratorizawa had once again failed to win it.
Honestly, if Shiratorizawa ever won the right to serve, pigs would probably start flying. Either that, or Ushijima had not been the one drawing lots.
Ushijima's luck was simply that remarkable.
Inarizaki would serve first. Possibly to intimidate their opponents, they had placed Atsumu Miya in Position 1.
He was the famous dual style server.
"Serving first for Inarizaki is Atsumu Miya. Atsumu Miya possesses both an excellent jump float and a powerful jump serve. However, will those serves remain effective against Shiratorizawa? Let's find out."
Atsumu Miya slowly walked toward the service line. As he moved, music began playing from Inarizaki's cheering section.
Combined with his deliberate entrance, it perfectly suited the description of a man who came with his own background music. Anyone who made an entrance like that clearly could not be ordinary.
Those unfamiliar with the spectacle, including Tsutomu Goshiki and Ryosuke, stared with wide eyes. Yamagata had told them about it earlier, but they had not expected it to feel so striking in person.
The music included drums and a saxophone. Ryosuke could not imagine how the supporters had managed to carry all those instruments into the stands.
"Wow. I like it."
Oikawa whistled while watching Atsumu Miya below.
Once Atsumu Miya reached his position, he bounced the volleyball against the floor several times. Then he held it up in his right hand, raised his left hand, and clenched his fist.
The music stopped instantly.
"Damn it!" Oikawa suddenly cursed.
Iwaizumi turned toward him in confusion.
"What's wrong? Didn't you just say you liked it?"
Oikawa grabbed his hair, looking deeply aggrieved.
"You don't understand, Iwa-chan. That guy just completely showed me up! What was that? How can anyone look that cool? I want to do it too!"
Iwaizumi was speechless, but still offered Oikawa some sincere advice.
"If you go back to school and bother the band club about this, their president might use his flute to put a hole through your skull."
The band club's president was a boy whose girlfriend Oikawa had once stolen. Oikawa had later broken up with her using the excuse, "I really like you, but I can't accept your ex-boyfriend."
As a result, every time the president saw Oikawa now, he looked as though he wanted to eat him alive.
Beside them, Kuroo curled his lip in disdain.
"What a show-off."
"But it's much cooler than our slogan, isn't it?" Kenma said flatly.
Taketora Yamamoto hooked an arm around Kenma's neck from the side.
"Hey, don't say that. I think our slogan is cool. We are the blood, and you are the heart."
Kenma sighed in despair. No matter how many times he heard them say it, the words still gave him goosebumps. It was simply too embarrassing.
"I'd rather people called us show-offs..."
His voice was so quiet that it was almost impossible to hear.
Even Kuroo failed to catch Kenma's muttering.
Everyone's attention was now focused on the match.
Atsumu Miya clenched his raised left fist, bringing the music to a stop. He tossed the volleyball into the air, took his approach, and jumped.
The serve was naturally aimed at Yamagata. Atsumu Miya was not foolish enough to assume that no one on Shiratorizawa could receive except their libero.
Liberos were chosen because their physique and overall abilities suited the position. That did not mean players in other positions were incapable of receiving.
Shiratorizawa had a perfect example standing on the court right now.
Ryosuke.
Atsumu Miya had trained with Ryosuke at the national youth camp. Ryosuke had shut down his attacks so many times that Atsumu had nearly felt sick. There was no chance he would serve directly at Ryosuke. He had no desire to be stopped on the very first point.
With that thought in mind, Atsumu Miya completed his approach, jumped, and struck the volleyball hard with his right hand, aiming for Yamagata.
"Bang!"
The volleyball flew from Atsumu Miya's hand along an erratic, rising and falling trajectory.
In Atsumu Miya's hands, the ball seemed to come alive. It twisted and spun through the air as it headed toward Yamagata.
The image of the volleyball was reflected in Yamagata's eyes, a tiny black dot spinning endlessly within them.
Atsumu Miya had opened the match with a jump float serve. Judging by his intent, he meant to intimidate Shiratorizawa from the very beginning.
That plan would not work on Yamagata.
Aside from Ryosuke's unusual hook serve, Yamagata could handle almost any kind of serve.
Shiratorizawa had no shortage of training resources. They constantly sought out different teams and players to practice against, so Yamagata had faced jump floats countless times. Unless the serve had an exceptionally tricky trajectory, he could receive it.
The volleyball floated lazily above Inarizaki's side of the court, then dropped sharply as soon as it crossed the net.
Yamagata did not even need to think. His legs moved on their own. He took a large step forward, extended both arms, and lowered his body to receive.
He positioned his platform at a precise angle and waited for the ball to strike his arms.
The liberos in the stands, along with Suwa, were watching closely. They were curious to see whether Yamagata could receive Atsumu Miya's very first serve.
"Bang!"
The volleyball struck Yamagata's forearms.
The instant it made contact, Yamagata lifted his arms with incredible speed. Before anyone could react, perhaps before even the ball itself could react, it was already flying high into the air.
"Wow, he made that look effortless."
Haruki Komi craned his neck toward the court, his eyes filled with curiosity and admiration.
"Why did that look so easy?"
Suwa could not understand it either. A jump float serve should have been difficult to handle, so why had Yamagata received it with such ease?
Yamagata had no idea what they were thinking. Had he known, he probably would have smiled and told them that receiving a flexible jump float was far more comfortable than dealing with one of Ushijima's serves.
Receiving Ushijima's serve could genuinely kill someone.
Yamagata sent the ball up cleanly.
Atsumu Miya raised an eyebrow.
That opening serve had not been particularly easy, but it had not been exceptionally difficult either. He had simply been testing the waters.
Still, he had not expected Yamagata to receive it so effortlessly.
It seemed Shiratorizawa was even stronger than he had imagined.
This match definitely would not disappoint him.
...
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