Chapter 12 - The Artist's First Stroke
The Interhigh had reached the point where every court mattered.
There were no meaningless matches anymore.bruh
Every whistle carried weight.
Every point moved someone closer to the next round.
And somewhere inside the same tournament venue, another Johzenji team was preparing for its own match.
The boys.
Their match against Karasuno had already become one of the tournament's more talked-about games.
Their reputation was spreading.
Passion.
Energy.
Unconventional volleyball.
A refusal to play small simply because conventional volleyball told them what they were supposed to do.
The girls' team had heard the noise.
Artist had heard it too.
But now she stood on a different court.
Across the net was Karasuno.
And standing among them was the player everyone had been talking about.
Mao Aihara.
Karasuno's ace.
Amaterasu.
Artist looked at her.
Mao looked back.
Neither smiled.
Not yet.
The referee raised the whistle.
The first set was about to begin.
First Serve
Johzenji received.
Karasuno served.
The ball traveled toward the backcourt.
Artist moved into position.
Mao watched her carefully.
The first-year's posture looked wrong.
Not bad.
Just unfamiliar.
Her shoulders weren't positioned like a conventional receiver.
Her feet were slightly offset.
One arm hung loosely.
Mao narrowed her eyes.
What is she doing?
The serve dropped.
Artist moved.
Her right arm extended.
Her wrist turned.
Contact.
The ball flew toward the setter.
Perfect.
Mao's eyes widened slightly.
The setter took the ball.
Johzenji attacked.
Karasuno defended.
The rally continued.
Mao watched Artist reposition.
The ball came back.
Another attack.
Another receive.
This time Artist used her left arm.
The ball changed direction sharply.
Johzenji transitioned.
Attack.
Point.
The scoreboard changed.
Johzenji had taken the first point.
Artist smiled.
"Nice."
Her teammate laughed.
"That was a weird one."
"I know."
"You meant to do that?"
Artist looked at her.
"Obviously."
Mao's Observation
Mao stared across the net.
Kuroba spoke inside her.
"First-year."
"I know."
"Johzenji."
"I know."
"One arm."
"I noticed."
Mao watched Artist again.
There was something strange about her.
Not just the technique.
Her movements didn't look like someone trying to compensate for a weakness.
They looked deliberate.
Like she had decided that the normal way simply wasn't interesting enough.
Mao remembered what she had seen during warmups.
Artist had practiced one-arm contacts repeatedly.
Not tricks.
Not flashy attacks.
Fundamentals.
Again.
Again.
Again.
She had been building something.
Mao's eyes narrowed.
"She's serious."
Kuroba smiled.
"That's what makes her interesting."
The Second Rally
Karasuno served again.
This time the ball went directly toward Artist.
Mao watched.
She's going to use one arm again.
Artist moved.
But instead of receiving with the same hand...
She turned.
Her back almost faced the net.
One arm extended behind her.
The ball struck her palm.
It changed direction.
The setter barely had to move.
Set.
Johzenji attacked.
Mao jumped.
The ball came toward her block.
She read the hitter.
The block closed.
The attack was stopped.
Karasuno point.
Artist looked at the net.
Then at Mao.
She smiled.
"So that's Amaterasu."
Mao landed.
"You wanted to see me?"
"Of course."
Artist bounced lightly on her feet.
"I've heard you're really accurate."
Mao's expression remained calm.
"I am."
Artist's smile widened.
"Good."
She turned back toward her side.
"That makes this more fun."
The Third Rally
Mao served.
The ball traveled hard toward Johzenji.
Artist moved.
She raised one arm.
Mao expected the same motion.
Artist changed it.
Her wrist angled differently.
The ball didn't go toward the setter.
It went toward the middle.
A Johzenji player was already moving.
She redirected it.
The setter followed.
The middle hitter attacked.
Point.
Mao stared.
That wasn't simply a receive.
Artist had deliberately changed the first contact to alter the offensive structure.
Kuroba spoke.
"She's using reception as creation."
Mao nodded.
"She's not just trying to keep the ball alive."
The next rally proved it.
A bad ball came toward Johzenji.
Artist moved underneath it.
One arm.
Instead of passing high...
She pushed it forward.
The setter caught it.
Immediately.
Attack.
Karasuno defended.
The rally continued.
Artist moved again.
One arm.
Another connection.
Another attack.
The rally finally ended with Karasuno winning.
Artist didn't look disappointed.
She looked excited.
"Again."
Karasuno Adjusts
Yui watched from the back.
"She's really good."
Mao nodded.
"Yeah."
Yui looked at her.
"Can you handle her?"
Mao smiled.
"I don't know yet."
Yui blinked.
That was not the answer she expected.
Mao usually knew.
She had become frighteningly precise since Amaterasu awakened.
But Artist wasn't giving her a normal pattern.
Every time Mao thought she had identified a technique...
Artist changed how she used it.
Not randomly.
Purposefully.
Mao understood that difference.
A random player was difficult because there was no logic.
Artist was difficult because there was logic...
but the logic was still being created.
Artist's Team
On Johzenji's side, the third-years weren't standing around watching their first-year perform.
They were playing with her.
The setter had already learned how to anticipate Artist's unusual first contacts.
The hitters had learned to keep moving.
The defenders had learned that Artist might redirect a ball into spaces they normally wouldn't expect.
Nobody was confused anymore.
They were adapting.
"Artist!"
The setter called.
Artist looked over.
"Back!"
The next serve came.
Artist moved.
One arm.
The ball went exactly where the setter wanted.
Set.
Attack.
Karasuno blocked.
The ball came back.
Artist dove.
One arm.
The ball stayed alive.
Her teammate chased it.
Another player set.
Attack.
Karasuno defended again.
The rally stretched.
Mao moved.
Receive.
Set.
Johzenji attacked.
Karasuno blocked.
Another transition.
Another attack.
The two teams began trading points.
Neither side had control.
The Boys
During a brief stoppage, Artist glanced toward the distant courts.
She could still hear them.
The Johzenji boys.
Their voices carried through the gym.
She smiled.
She remembered why she had started.
Gen 1 Johzenji had been the Gold Standard.
Traditional.
Technically refined.
A team that had shown exactly how far conventional volleyball could be pushed.
Artist respected that.
But the current boys had taught her something different.
They weren't trying to become Gen 1.
They weren't trying to imitate a standard that didn't fit them.
They played with passion.
They played with personality.
They refused to be trapped inside a style they weren't good at.
Artist had taken that idea and asked a different question.
What if I don't just play differently?
What if I build my own technique?
One arm had been the answer.
Not because two arms were bad.
Because one arm was hers.
She looked back at the court.
Mao was watching her.
Artist smiled.
Now I get to see if it works against someone like her.
8-8
The score was tied.
Johzenji served.
Karasuno received.
Mao attacked.
The ball traveled toward the corner.
Artist moved.
One arm.
The ball came up.
Johzenji transitioned.
Attack.
Karasuno defended.
Mao watched Artist again.
The first-year wasn't simply responding to the ball.
She was constantly asking what else the ball could become.
A receive could become a set.
A set could become an attack.
A bad position could become an angle.
A defensive contact could become an offensive connection.
There was no clear boundary between the phases of volleyball anymore.
Artist blurred them.
Mao understood why that was dangerous.
Traditional volleyball separated actions.
Receive.
Set.
Attack.
Artist was beginning to connect them.
The ball itself became the bridge.
10-9
Karasuno took the lead.
Mao served.
Artist received.
One arm.
The ball went slightly too far.
The setter adjusted.
Artist immediately moved.
The setter sent the ball back toward her.
Artist jumped.
One arm.
She tipped the ball over the block.
Point.
Johzenji cheered.
Artist landed.
"That's new."
Her teammate stared.
"You just tried that?"
"Yeah."
"Without practicing it?"
Artist smiled.
"I've practiced the movement."
"Not that exact situation."
"That's different."
The third-year laughed.
"You're ridiculous."
Artist grinned.
"Thanks."
Mao's Answer
Mao stepped toward the service line.
She bounced the ball once.
Kuroba spoke.
"Don't chase her technique."
Mao nodded.
"I know."
"Then what?"
Mao looked at Artist.
"Make her create under pressure."
Her serve went deep.
Artist moved.
One arm.
The ball came up.
But Mao had deliberately placed the serve so that Artist's preferred angle was awkward.
Artist adjusted.
One arm.
The ball rose.
Not perfect.
Playable.
Johzenji attacked.
Karasuno blocked.
The ball came back.
Artist moved.
Another one-arm contact.
This time the ball went toward the setter.
Perfect.
Mao smiled.
She can adjust.
That was important.
The one-arm revolution wasn't a gimmick.
Artist had built enough control to adapt her technique.
Mao's eyes sharpened.
Then she noticed something else.
Artist was smiling.
She was enjoying this.
12-12
The match continued.
Neither team could pull away.
Mao attacked.
Artist defended.
Artist created.
Mao calculated.
Karasuno adjusted.
Johzenji experimented.
The match was becoming an argument between two different ideas.
Mao's volleyball sought precision.
Artist's volleyball sought possibility.
Mao wanted to find the correct answer.
Artist wanted to create another answer.
And yet neither was actually playing alone.
That was what made the matchup interesting.
Mao's precision depended on Karasuno.
Artist's creativity depended on Johzenji.
Both Superstars needed their teams.
The difference was what they gave those teams.
Mao gave Karasuno certainty.
Artist gave Johzenji possibilities.
14-14
Artist received another serve.
One arm.
The ball rose.
The setter moved.
Artist immediately called.
"Back!"
The hitter adjusted.
Attack.
Karasuno blocked.
The ball rebounded.
Artist moved.
One arm.
The ball stayed alive.
Mao approached.
She saw the opening.
Attack.
The ball flew toward Artist.
Artist's eyes widened.
She moved.
One arm.
The ball barely cleared the floor.
Johzenji saved it.
The gym erupted.
Artist rolled onto her back.
Then laughed.
"That was close!"
Mao stared at her from across the net.
Artist looked back.
For a moment, neither said anything.
Then Artist stood.
"You're really good."
Mao smiled.
"So are you."
16-16
The scoreboard remained tied.
The first set had stopped being an introduction.
It had become a real match.
The spectators were beginning to understand.
Johzenji wasn't simply doing crazy things.
Artist wasn't simply performing tricks.
And Karasuno wasn't simply relying on Amaterasu.
Both teams were adapting.
Both were learning.
Both were beginning to reveal their identities.
The third-years on Johzenji's side looked toward Artist.
She looked back.
"Ready?"
The captain smiled.
"Always."
No resentment.
No hesitation.
No fear.
Just volleyball.
Their first-year had brought something new to their team.
They were going to use it.
And for now...
It was working.
The referee blew the whistle.
The next rally began.
Mao stepped forward.
Artist raised one hand.
Two different answers stood across the net.
One built from precision.
One built from possibility.
Neither had reached its limit yet.
And the Interhigh had only just begun.