Compared to Karasuno's probing lineup, Shiratorizawa showed no hesitation. They placed their ace, Ushijima Wakatoshi, in the front row from the very start. Supporting him were Reon, a towering wing spiker, and middle blocker Kawanishi Taichi, standing at 188cm. Their frontline was a wall of raw power and height—imposing enough to intimidate any opponent.
But Karasuno refused to shrink back.
Daichi tossed the ball high and served deep into Shiratorizawa's court. From the back row, Goshiki Tsutomu stepped in to receive, arms steady. In a flash, setter Shirabu sprinted forward and shouted Ushijima's name. The toss rose perfectly into Ushijima's strike zone.
Karasuno's three-man block jumped together, arms pressed tight to close off the angles.
But Ushijima was no ordinary spiker. He was one of the top three in the nation.
Soaring higher than the block, his body bent like a drawn bow, his left arm arcing back before whipping forward. The ball cracked against his palm and shot forward with terrifying speed. His left-handed advantage let him slice through the smallest gap, threading the spike past Karasuno's triple wall.
The ball hurtled toward the backcourt.
Nishinoya was already there. "Mine!" he barked, knees bending low as he dug in his heels. His arms snapped forward in a clean underhand pass. For a moment it looked perfect—but the lefty spin carried a strange curve. The ball clipped his arms at an odd angle, deflecting sharply backward.
Point, Shiratorizawa.
"Ushijima! Ushijima!"
The Shiratorizawa cheering squad roared his name in a steady rhythm, the sound vibrating through the gym.
"Don't worry about it!"
"Next one, next one!"
Encouragement flew from Karasuno's bench. Nishinoya exhaled, eyes fixed on Ushijima.
"So this is what a left-handed spike feels like… Alright, I've learned something."
The rotation shifted. Kawanishi stepped back to serve. With calm precision, he launched the ball toward the sideline.
Daichi squinted as the ball dropped fast. Out? No, it's in!
The referee's flag confirmed it. Shiratorizawa pulled further ahead.
"Sorry!" Daichi called, clicking his tongue.
But Kawanishi's next serve clipped the net, slowing its speed.
"Tanaka-senpai!" Tsukishima barked.
"Got it!"
Tanaka dived in, arms steady. The ball floated perfectly into Kageyama's hands.
"Hayato!"
At that moment, Hayato was already moving. He sprinted in, launched off the floor, and hung in the air. Kageyama's lightning-quick set snapped forward—and Shiratorizawa's blockers were a step too slow.
"Take this!"
Hayato's spike ripped over the net, skimming the tape as it slammed into Shiratorizawa's court. Clean kill.
"Alright!"
"Nice one, Hayato!"
Karasuno erupted. The tension gripping their shoulders eased. The nervous stiffness that had crept in at the start of the final melted away in an instant.
Landing lightly, Hayato slapped Kageyama's palm, then turned to rally his teammates. His voice carried firm conviction:
"Even against Ushijima and Shiratorizawa, we can fight! Give it everything you've got—let's go, Karasuno!"
"Ohhh!"
Daichi clenched his fist, Hinata and Tanaka roared back, even Tsukishima cracked a faint grin. Their jitters were gone.
Though still trailing 2–1, Karasuno had made their first dent. Most importantly, they'd wrestled the serve back.
Hayato rotated into the service line.
"Hayato-senpai, fire one in!"
"Show them the Electromagnetic Cannon!"
"Go, Fierce Bird!"
His nicknames echoed from the substitutes' bench and the cheering section. Those unfamiliar began asking questions, and soon explanations passed through the crowd. Some laughed, calling it "chuunibyou." Others, after watching him spike, didn't laugh at all.
Hayato ignored it. He rolled the ball in his hands, steadying his breathing. We can't fall behind. If I have the serve, I'll use it to break them.
The whistle blew.
Eyes sharp on the far sideline, Hayato tossed the ball high, his body bursting into motion.
From the stands, Koyuki and the others copied Seijoh's style from the day before, their voices rising together.
"Ohhhhhh—!"
At the apex of his jump, Hayato whipped through the ball.
Swoosh—Bang!
It rocketed across the net like a cannon shot, slamming into the back corner. The referee's flag shot up. In. Point, Karasuno.
For a heartbeat, silence hung in the gym. Then Karasuno's section exploded.
"Hayatooo!"
"Number 13!"
"Another one!"
Even Shiratorizawa's cheering squad stirred uneasily.
"Wait, is this guy for real?"
"That serve… we couldn't even see it."
On the court, Tendō let out a long whistle.
"Phewwww~ What a monster serve." He turned to Ushijima, curious.
And there it was—Ushijima's lips curved faintly upward. For once, the stoic ace was smiling, eyes locked on Hayato.
Hayato met his gaze across the net, neither blinking nor backing down. Sparks crackled in the invisible tension between them.
"Hayato Kuroha…" Ushijima murmured under his breath.
The rally wasn't over.
Ball in hand again, Hayato exhaled slowly, focus sharp. They almost got it last time. They're not weak. But I'll push harder—this time, too.
He tossed the ball high, legs coiling for another strike.
And once more, Karasuno's voices rose to meet him.
"Ohhhhhh—!"
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A/N: I'm really sorry for posting late, everyone. Our house needed some repairs, and I've been busy helping with that. Thank you so much for understanding and for continuing to support me—it really means a lot!
Support me at patréon com/Lukas25