Morinen High left the court in disappointment. As for Aoba Johsai, despite defeating them, the team only celebrated briefly. The moment they exited through the players’ tunnel, exhaustion immediately settled over everyone’s faces.
The win over Morinen had looked easy from the outside, but in reality, every Aoba Josei player had been under tremendous pressure throughout the match, especially mentally.
That pressure didn’t just come from their opponents. The crowd, the venue, the tournament format, even the cameras constantly moving above the court, all of it served as a constant reminder that this was Nationals.
One mistake wouldn’t just embarrass them in front of a nationwide audience; it could send them packing. Under that kind of pressure, the energy and stamina consumed during a match were easily three or four times greater than during a normal game.
“Everyone, head back to the hotel and get some rest first. We’ll regroup here later,” Coach Irihata said.
“Yes, sir!” the team responded in unison.
Although Aoba Johsai’s match for the day was over, that didn’t mean they could relax. With the brutal single-elimination format of Nationals, even the slightest lapse in focus could ruin everything.
Similar upsets had happened countless times before. While Aoba Josei’s game had ended, their next opponent had yet to be decided, which made now the perfect time to scout the competition.
After returning to the hotel and changing clothes, everyone’s spirits recovered somewhat.
“Let’s go. Time to see which lucky team gets the honor of becoming our next opponent.”
On the way back to the arena, Akashi Asuto, Oikawa, and the others stopped to buy some snacks. Aoba Johsai had played the first match of the morning, so everyone was hungry after the game, but lunch was still a while away. Naturally, the third-years paid for everything. After all, that was one of the privileges of being a senior.
Mishita Ryuhei sat down beside Asuto, who casually handed him a box of takoyaki.
“Oh! Thanks.”
“Has the match started already?”
“Just started. Both teams are still feeling each other out, but, ”
Smack!
Before Akashi could finish speaking, something suddenly changed on the court. The surrounding stands instantly erupted with excitement.
“Nohebi! Nohebi! Nohebi!”
[Ooh! Nohebi Academy has shut down another attack!]
[Once again, it’s a straight-line read! Nohebi Academy’s captain, Number 1 Suguru Daishō, seems capable of reading minds. That’s another blocking point!]
…
“Ooh… what an insanely accurate read block. It’s almost like the opponent intentionally spiked right into their hands,” Hanamaki Takahiro sucked in a breath of cold air as he watched the court.
As an outside hitter himself, just imagining being on the receiving end of a block like that made his teeth ache.
Beside him, Yahaba Shigeru pulled out a stack of information. Coach Irihata had gathered scouting reports beforehand, covering teams that had at least appeared at Nationals before. After flipping through the pages for a moment, Yahaba’s eyes lit up.
“Found it. Let’s see… Nohebi Academy, Tokyo’s third representative team. They’re a long-established powerhouse from Tokyo. The volleyball club’s motto is ‘Honor and Integrity,’ and throughout the years, Nohebi Academy’s playstyle has been centered around solid, reliable defense.”
“So they’re a defensive team. No wonder their blocking is so strong,” the others murmured, immediately understanding the situation.
Only Oikawa seemed puzzled. “Honor and Integrity?”
He looked toward Nohebi’s side of the court and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. After a moment, he suddenly said, “Doesn’t really look like it to me.”
Asuto’s eyes flickered, and he turned to glance at Oikawa. For a moment, he almost wanted to tell him that his instincts were spot-on.
Instead, Asuto said, “That’s because it isn’t. Nohebi Academy used to play with a very straightforward style, but over the past year they’ve picked up another nickname in Tokyo: The Vipers.”
“Vipers? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You see Nohebi’s Number 1 over there?” Asuto pointed at Nohebi Academy’s captain. “That’s Suguru Daishō. He’s the current captain, and he loves taking advantage of little loopholes in the rules to play dirty. For example, deliberately aiming spikes at defenders’ bodies, or provoking opponents with trash talk to throw off their mental state.”
“He’s like a viper hunting prey. First he injects the poison, then he quietly watches the prey run around in a panic. Once the poison takes effect and they start making mistakes, he moves in and finishes them off.”
“Ewwww…” The group couldn’t help shivering.
“Wow, that’s way too underhanded!”
“Not really,” Asuto replied. “Everything Nohebi does is still within the rules. It’s just another way of using the rules to their advantage. Besides, if you think Nohebi only relies on tricks, you’re mistaken.”
He glanced back toward the court. “Their style may have changed, but their core strength hasn’t. Their steady defense is still the real reason they made it to Nationals.”
Then he changed the subject. “But Nohebi isn’t the team we’re mainly here to scout today. Our real target is Fukurodani Academy.”
“Compared to Nohebi, Fukurodani is on a completely different level. They’ve qualified for Nationals twenty-seven times and have reached the tournament for seven straight years. They’re not just a powerhouse in Tokyo, they’re one of the strongest teams in the entire country. And their ace is in the same class as Ushiwaka, a top-five ace in all of Japan.”
“So even though Nohebi is leading right now, Fukurodani is still the more likely team to become our next opponent.”
Gulp.
The sound of collective swallowing echoed around him.
Twenty-seven National appearances. Seven consecutive years. A top-five ace in Japan.
“Wait… we’re going to face a team like that next round?”
“No way…”
“I don’t want to fight a second Ushiwaka!”
Nobody could blame the Aoba Josei players for wanting to run away. Any one of those achievements alone would have been intimidating, but combined together, they sounded downright terrifying.
While everyone else was worrying about Fukurodani, Iwaizumi suddenly spoke up in a somewhat strange tone.
“Uh… Asuto. The top-five ace you’re talking about… is that the guy whose hair looks like an owl?”
“Yeah, that’s…” Akashi’s answer cut off halfway.
Because the moment he turned toward the court, he saw the owl-haired ace suddenly wilt. It was as if he’d been hit by some kind of Negative Ghost attack, his entire body losing all energy in an instant. At the same time, cheerful laughter erupted throughout the stands.
“Uh…” Asuto froze.
‘Come on, Owl Guy, give me a break! I’m trying to hype you up here! You’re making this really difficult!’
Just then, Coach Irihata walked over.
“Fukurodani’s ace is indeed a very unusual player,” he said. “Among the nation’s top-five aces, he’s probably the one whose performance fluctuates the most. When he’s in a slump, he’s incredibly unstable. Sometimes he even costs his own team several points in a row.”
“But once he gets back into form…” Coach Irihata paused, then turned toward the center court.
Everyone instinctively followed his gaze.
And then they saw it, a spike unlike anything they had ever witnessed before. A spike so overwhelming that it left them completely speechless.
…
(End of Chapter)