JSWGAS Chapter 105

105.

Entry, warm-up.

Shiratorizawa first enters, spiking, Aoba Johsai receives.

Aone Takanobu glares intently at Shiratorizawa’s Sonomura and Saijo, while Haba quietly chats with Koganegawa as usual. Iwaizumi Hajime diligently receives without a word. Miyano is complaining about Shiratorizawa’s school song to Hanamaki and Matsukawa next to him…

“Tōru.” After nearly missing Oikawa’s receive again, Kokonoe speaks, “Are you bothered by it?”

Oikawa Tōru’s gaze finally shifts from Ushijima, who is currently spiking, and he shouts subconsciously, “I’m not bothered by Wakatoshi!” He tries to deny it but can’t help but mutter, “Damn it, this power, it’s even greater than during the previous practice match… The impact too, it’s definitely clearer watching it live…”

Kokonoe Taka falls silent for a moment because of the information revealed in his words: Not only is he bothered, but he probably watched the recordings for a long time again after going home yesterday, right? Is this person only left with a frivolous demeanor and being stubborn as his defining traits?

His indescribable gaze gives Oikawa a shiver, and he becomes wary, “What rude things are you thinking?”

“Nothing.”

“You are, aren’t you!”

“…No.”

“Yes!”

The childish bickering doesn’t disturb their nimble movements. It goes on intermittently until Kokonoe Taka begins to suspect that he’s been drugged by Oikawa to play these childish tricks with him.

But Oikawa isn’t ashamed but proud, becoming smug when Kokonoe gradually falls silent, as if he’s already won the victory. He even forgets why they started bickering in the first place — Kokonoe Taka can’t stand his smug look, suddenly smashes a sharp angled side shot. Oikawa instinctively goes to cover, tilting his body to the side, a muffled sound —

“What are you doing, you jerk Oikawa?!”

“That hurts! Is Iwa-chan’s head made of iron?! It would definitely sink in water!”

Oikawa’s subconscious trash talk and Iwaizumi’s iron fist arrive as promised. They argue for only a few sentences before Iwaizumi decides to loosen Oikawa’s skin to welcome the upcoming match in perfect condition. Then there is a scream so loud that even the Shiratorizawa team can’t help but turn their heads to watch the commotion. Iwaizumi from Aoba Johsai is seen grabbing a volleyball and wanting to stuff it into his setter’s mouth. His dark face causes panic, “Iwaizumi! Calm down, this guy is still useful!”

“Shiratorizawa is looking over here! Spare Oikawa’s life!”

“Kokonoe, say something too!”

Aone’s terrified face is too funny. Kokonoe stares at him for a while before interjecting, without the self-awareness that he is the mastermind behind the internal strife.

“For now, let him go, and relentlessly exploit him during the match as punishment.”

— This is said to Iwaizumi, who is grinding his teeth.

Oikawa, who was dragged out by him, is hiding behind him making faces at Iwaizumi. Seeing Kokonoe turn his head to stare at him, he immediately remembers the obviously intentional receive just now, and takes a wary step back, “What?”

Kokonoe stares at him until he feels goosebumps all over his body before slowly shifting his gaze away, “Nothing.”

Oikawa: … That makes me even more concerned!

However, when the two sides exchanged warm-up areas and brushed past the Shiratorizawa team, he immediately forgot about this little episode.

Ushijima Wakatoshi slowed down, “Long time no see, Oikawa…”

Oikawa Tōru takes a deep breath, showing a fluttering, fake smile, interrupting him, “Yeah, long time no see! Little Ushiwaka! You will definitely be beaten to a pulp by us today, don’t be scared stiff!”

Ushijima Wakatoshi replies subconsciously, “Don’t call me by that name.”

Oikawa: “Little Ushiwaka Little Ushiwaka Little Ushiwaka!”

He immediately perks up, sticking out his tongue and making faces with the thought of disgusting Ushijima. Ushijima Wakatoshi frowns, but quickly relaxes — At the same time, Oikawa Tōru’s neck tightens, and his collar is lifted by someone with a light touch.

“Don’t just start barking at people when I’m not watching.”

“I’m not a dog, okay?!”

Kokonoe Taka looks at Ushijima, and their eyes meet and separate. No one knows what the two confirmed through their eyes, one no longer lingers and follows the Shiratorizawa team, and the other walks into the venue side by side with the person next to him.

If there is anything similar between the two at this time… it is only the intense thumping sound they both felt in their hearts as they beat continuously.

— The match begins.

The first set is served by Aoba Johsai.

Their positioning is slightly different compared to usual, Kokonoe stands at the #2 position, guarding the front of the net with Aone and Iwaizumi; Koganegawa replaced Saijo, standing at the #6 position; and next to him are Oikawa, who is starting with a serve, and Miyano, who is good at receiving.

The cheers from Aoba Johsai and Shiratorizawa’s cheerleaders gradually diminish. By the time it reaches Oikawa Tōru, it has completely disappeared, and only his slightly heavy breathing can be perceived and captured in the whole world.

— I am standing here now.

— Once again.

The whistle blows, the ball is tossed.

Approach, jump.

Swing the arm, press the wrist.

At the end of his line of sight, there is only the particularly clear net and line.

The volleyball barely scrapes over the white edge of the net, smashing backward over the heads of Shiratorizawa’s front row of three —

“Bang —”

The libero flashes to the side when the volleyball approaches, almost instinctively judging, “OUT!” But his retina still struggles to replay the scene just now. It should be out of bounds, right… Is it really out of bounds? That guy was undoubtedly aiming for this place. If it’s not out of bounds… thinking of this possibility, he can’t help but swallow his saliva.

Turning his head nervously, waiting for the referee’s judgment.

The whistle blows and the flag is raised, it’s out of bounds.

After this result comes out, the atmosphere on Shiratorizawa’s side relaxes, while on Aoba Johsai’s side…

“Aaaah damn it! Sorry!”

Oikawa frantically messes up his hair, grinding his teeth in annoyance — Although this action eventually aroused screams from a small part of the stands.

Kokonoe: “Don’t mind it.”

Aone: “Next ball, next ball! Change serve!”

Shiratorizawa serves, a powerful jump serve, but it is nothing compared to the miserable experience of being targeted with jump serves by the underclassmen in the team all day long. Koganegawa looks up at the volleyball that is rapidly falling to the ground, dives to save the ball, quickly gets up after a clean first touch, and clears the attack route.

Oikawa steps up to the front row, his discreet gaze sweeping over the rapidly organizing block on the other side. One person on the left, one in the mid court, and one in front of him, strictly guarding every attack route he can mobilize. But their positioning is obviously concentrated on a certain point…

— The target of defense is too obvious.

Is it confidence in their own strength? Or do they underestimate the attack on this side too much? Regardless of which, Oikawa’s set has no hesitation. Kokonoe, who starts his approach from the rear, attracts the attention of the blockers. The invisible and sharp attack he exudes when he jumps almost makes the blockers can’t help but turn their heads to look at their teammate, who has such momentum when spiking. It wasn’t until they followed him and jumped into the air together that they suddenly realized they had fallen into a trap. The volleyball flies smoothly over Kokonoe’s slightly higher position, without any lingering attachment, and is smashed down with all his might by another person’s rough palm at the end of its trajectory —

“Number 12 Kokonoe player’s beautiful cover and a decisive quick attack from Number 10 Iwaizumi player!” The commentator shouts, “And Number 9 Oikawa player’s excellent offensive coordination! Iwaizumi and Oikawa were partners with tacit understanding in middle school, and are also Shiratorizawa’s old rivals…”

1:1, the serve switches.

“…Now standing at the #1 serve position is Aoba Johsai’s first year player Kokonoe… In the previous preliminary rounds, Kokonoe’s serve was extremely intimidating…”

The commentator’s voice, along with faint, unclear static, echoes above the venue.

“Kokonoe?” Having just arrived at the edge of the court, the person with a reporter’s name tag around his neck suddenly repeats this surname in surprise. The younger reporter next to him, who looks even younger, carefully asks, “Mr. Inoue, is there any problem?”

Mr. Inoue ponders, “I was late and didn’t hear the announcement… What is this Kokonoe’s full name?”

The young reporter ohs and aahs twice, his expression relaxing.

“I remember his name is… ‘Taka’.”

— Kokonoe Taka stands at the service line.

He taps the ball twice, in a very casual posture. A faint commotion accompanied by the sound of cameras can be vaguely heard from the audience. But the commotion quickly returns to silence, quiet and soundless — When the black-haired attacker raises his arm to hold the ball in front of him, this quietness infects most people.

Shiratorizawa’s libero stands at the #6 position, ready for battle. Not only him, but all the White Eagles raise their heads vigilantly, staring at the black hawk.

Kokonoe Taka’s habit of not serving immediately after the whistle blows is no longer a secret after a few matches. Shiratorizawa isn’t a weak team that would be shaken by such tactics. But until after the whistle blows, the first few seconds can be considered calm waiting, the later ones make people feel nervous and long. He stands motionless behind the end line. Because the serve time is limited, his gaze should be swift. But his opponents nervously endure his sharp gaze slowly passing over every corner one by one.

The camera on the side faithfully records this scene.

And the camera’s clean and bright surface reflects the people in action in the last few seconds, or he is more like a hawk shuttling through the clouds at this time. That light-colored figure cuts through the court when running, as fast as lightning, as swift as thunder, ruthlessly absorbing the light falling from the high ceiling. Those lights gather towards him, are kneaded into the volleyball he touches, and in the next instant, the earth shakes and the mountains sway —

“Boom!!!”

A loud roar, the sleeping beast opens its eyes at the moment the sound rings.

The White Eagles scatter in fright, shaking off feathers all over the ground.

Shiratorizawa’s libero takes a diagonal step, his nerves operating at their limit at this moment. His breath is close to his ear, turning into a heavy moan. Contending with light, contending with wind, contending with thunder, he suspects that he will be crushed in the boiling water and the rising fire core — but he is not. Those chaotic thoughts are burned to ashes, and his arms are almost about to be as well.

What the hell did this guy eat —?! Did he eat a lot of spinach?! Why does it seem even harder to receive than Ushiwaka’s serve?!

He really wants to curse like that, but in the end there is only an out-of-tune cry of pain, “Uh!”

He has to roll along the direction the ball came from to release the force. Thanks to Coach Washijo’s urging and slaps, otherwise he would never be able to do this instinctive action. The world is thus reversed, and the volleyball hits the net through his palm, “Bang!” The first touch is not accurate. The setter on the edge of the net hastily raises his hand to receive it, the force is a bit too strong, and it goes near the net again, “Ushi —”

Calling Ushijima Wakatoshi’s name only had time to utter the first syllable. Ushijima does quickly regain his rhythm and starts to jump, starting to charge in the air. But before he touches the ball, the one who is faster is the rock that has been standing silently all along.

Three-step jump, a few breaths early, climbing over the net, jumping to a higher place! Taking the initiative allows Iwaizumi to reach the highest point a moment faster than Ushijima. The opponent that he has always needed to look up to can only be looked down upon by himself at this time — This kind of thought does not appear, it only belongs to the self-indulgent spectators.

— And Iwaizumi is just focused, silent, and resolutely swinging his arm.

The whistle blows, Aoba Johsai scores.

“Beautiful! Shiratorizawa misses the serve, and Iwaizumi player seizes the opportunity, scoring with an unexpected dump!”

“Nice ball!”

“You’re decisive, kid!”

“Too cool!”

Iwaizumi’s hair immediately becomes the hardest-hit area being messed up.

He laughs and scolds away Kokonoe, who is messing with him the most, and Oikawa, who says in a low voice “Damn it, lost to Iwa-chan!”. Then he quietly clenches his fist.