JSWGAS Chapter 27

The ball fell, and the whistle blew.

Oikawa Tōru sprawled on the floor, sweat almost instantly forming a dark, human-shaped outline on the surface. He stretched his right hand out with all his might, his eyes wide and round, a layer of shimmering light vaguely welling up in his warm-colored irises.

His fingertips were only a centimeter away from the volleyball.

A centimeter was his unit of measurement when teasing Iwaizumi about his height; a centimeter wasn’t even as long as a scar. But at this moment, this tiny centimeter was like a chasm in the sky, sharply dividing him and the ball into two completely unrelated sides.

The volleyball rolled away, and only then did he belatedly feel the pain of his body hitting the ground and the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm his entire consciousness. He stared at the ball in front of him, the cheers of his opponents ringing in his ears.

In an instant, the match was over.

Iwaizumi Hajime tilted his head back, pressing his hand against his side, taking deep breaths. He was also covered in sweat, panting heavily. Elementary school volleyball had no substitution rules, and the same six players had been on the court the entire time. They had played a full three sets against Shiratorizawa, with a small score of 16:14 and a large score of 2:1.

“Get up!” He patted the shoulder of his teammate, who also looked dejected, and finally walked up to Oikawa Tōru, who was still lying on the ground. Without bending down, he kicked his calf. “Hurry up and pack up, we…”

Oikawa Tōru still felt a sense of unreality. He scrambled to his feet before Iwaizumi kicked him again, and as he lowered his head, warm liquid kept falling.

“We lost…?”

Iwaizumi Hajime didn’t look at him, grabbing his collar and leading him to the line to bow. “Yeah.”

A long whistle: “Thank you for the game!”

They bowed, and then someone’s tears burst out first, and someone started to sob softly.

At this moment, Oikawa Tōru raised his head instead. Except for the slightly red rims of his eyes, he seemed completely unaffected by the atmosphere of sadness. Only Iwaizumi Hajime, standing next to him, saw how hard he was clenching his fists.

Iwaizumi Hajime turned his gaze, pursing his lips, and looked at the opponents across the net.

“That was a wonderful game.”

A spectator sitting next to Kokonoe Taka said, “That setter from Seijo was outstanding. He set a lot of good balls, and that boy who looks so upright also spiked a lot of good shots.”

“But the strongest is definitely Wakatoshi Ushijima from Shiratorizawa,” another person added. “He’s left-handed, has a great feel for the ball, and his power is remarkable for an elementary school student. I wonder how much he’ll grow up to be.”

Wakatoshi Ushijima was the left-handed ace spiker from Shiratorizawa. If Oikawa Tōru was like thousands of stars falling and reflecting in a pool, trying every means to organize the offense, and Iwaizumi Hajime was a firm foundation, supporting the team, then Wakatoshi Ushijima was a weapon that shattered all of that with his own strength.

At the beginning, Seijo was barely able to restrain Shiratorizawa’s pace. But Wakatoshi Ushijima was the kind of player who needed the first half of the game to ‘warm up.’ In the second half, he was firing on all cylinders, and Seijo’s defense quickly crumbled.

Being left-handed is a special talent that gives you an advantage in any sport. What’s more, besides Wakatoshi Ushijima, the other players on Shiratorizawa were also pretty good at receiving and passing. In terms of overall strength, there was no doubt that they were superior.

…So losing was only natural?

Kokonoe Taka stood up and walked out of the aisle next to the two spectators who were still chatting.

He had seen the last ball clearly. Oikawa Tōru was almost like a person standing on a cliff in the dark, unable to see the road ahead, but leaping forward in a desperate gamble.

He passed many spectators who were still discussing the match. Shiratorizawa was lavishly praised, and almost no one mentioned the losers.

The losers left the stage in disappointment, drowned in the cheers of the victors.

He thought.

From his point of view, even if that last ball had been saved, Seijo would not have been able to launch another threatening attack. Many of them were exhausted. The middle blocker, who was a bit taller than Oikawa, was struggling to block Ushijima’s spikes. The libero ran around the court the most, but didn’t manage to save many balls… Not to mention Oikawa and Iwaizumi, who had been desperately trying to score points, their stamina was probably on the verge of exhaustion.

–Tōru, even knowing all this, you still went to such lengths to save that ball?

He walked towards the entrance for the players, his breathing light and even. But his hands gripping the backpack straps were exceptionally hot. A certain emotion, a desire to be released, was surging through his body.

He was like a traveler walking in the desert, suddenly seeing an oasis of clear springs in the distance, and couldn’t help but walk faster, and faster. No one could remain hard-hearted in the face of such pure love and dedication. Rather than being just another face in the crowd of spectators, Kokonoe Taka wanted to stand by his two friends’ sides at this moment.

Only by entering the arena where they were could he understand what kind of emotion that was, right?

Kokonoe Taka stopped, waiting for his friends.

“It’s like what Takeuchi said, ‘I love it.'”

“Tōru and Ichi’s feelings are the same as that.”

“So…”

“I also want to–”

Iwaizumi Hajime walked out, followed by the rest of the Seijo team. The middle blocker and the ace spiker were hugging each other and crying their eyes out, the libero looked remorseful, and Iwaizumi Hajime was patting him on the shoulder, comforting him in a low voice.

He wasn’t crying. When he looked up, he saw Kokonoe Taka watching him. The latter studied him for a moment and smiled. “Good job.”

Iwaizumi Hajime quietly comforted the libero a couple more times before walking over.

He didn’t know that in these short few steps, his expression had changed from pressing his eyebrows together, determined and calm, to biting his teeth tightly in frustration. The nausea from the intense exercise and the heat of blood rushing through his veins were screaming their presence. His heart felt like it was about to jump out of his throat.

Kokonoe Taka took two quick steps forward and opened his arms, catching Iwaizumi, who was rushing forward with his head down.

Iwaizumi Hajime stopped in his arms, his head resting slightly on his shoulder. Kokonoe Taka patted his back and said softly, “You were amazing, Ichi. I saw it, you were so cool.”

Iwaizumi Hajime said in a muffled voice, “…We didn’t win.”

Kokonoe Taka looked straight ahead. The rest of the Seijo team had quietly left. The middle blocker gave him a mouth shape while wiping his tears: “Iwaizumi is one of the most unwilling.”

Hot, humid, that was the first thing he felt when he touched the body.

Iwaizumi continued in a low voice, “I promised I’d win…”

Kokonoe Taka pressed his back. “That’s not a promise to me, Ichi. I’m not on the court. The promise should be to yourself.”

“Besides, who wins and who loses, it’s not over until the very end.”

He let go of him and said calmly, “You’ll win next time.”

Iwaizumi Hajime took a deep breath, slowly exhaling, as if swallowing his unwillingness. “Okay.”

“Ichi, that soft voice doesn’t suit you,” Kokonoe Taka teased him on purpose. “Is Ichi the kind of person who gets discouraged after losing once?”

“…How could I be!”

Iwaizumi Hajime instantly regained his energy and glared at him with fiery eyes. Kokonoe Taka made an innocent gesture of surrender and took out a chocolate bar from his pocket, throwing it to him.

“Where’s Tōru? Why didn’t he come out with you?”

Iwaizumi Hajime reluctantly accepted the chocolate. “You really like sweets… That guy went out with Komatsu-senpai.”

“Komatsu… the tall middle blocker?”

“Yeah.”

“I remember he’s your captain, right? He’s in sixth grade.”

“Yeah, he’s going to quit the volleyball club after this match to focus on his studies.” Iwaizumi Hajime said, “Komatsu-senpai said he needs to think about his higher education.”

He glanced at Kokonoe Taka’s expression and impatiently pointed in a direction. “I saw them heading that way before we came out. Go and drag that idiot Oikawa back here, or just leave him here to fend for himself!”

“Yes, sir.”

The direction Iwaizumi pointed led to a corridor lined with greenery. It was a relatively secluded place, and hardly anyone ever came here. Sunlight streamed into the corridor from the windows, and Kokonoe Taka walked briskly deeper into the corridor, his footsteps falling on the shadows of the potted plants.

Before he saw anyone, the wind carried the sound of a tearful conversation.

“I’m sorry, Oikawa. If I had been more determined to build the first line of defense, wouldn’t we have lost to Shiratorizawa…”

“…Don’t worry about it, Komatsu-senpai,” Oikawa Tōru’s voice said. “It was the first time any of us had seen a left-handed player’s spike. His power is about the same as Iwaizumi’s, but with spin on it, it couldn’t be helped.”

“But I know I could have blocked it,” Komatsu’s voice was filled with remorse. “I was just… I was just scared. I was afraid his ball would break my fingers, so I subconsciously left a gap.”

“…”

Kokonoe Taka slowly stopped, hiding around the corner of the corridor, leaning against the wall, listening to the conversation.

On the other side of the wall, Oikawa Tōru fell silent. He rarely showed such intense emotions. Frustration, disappointment, and resentment twisted his face together. “It’s just a game!” he said loudly. “We’ll prepare better for the next game and win!”

Komatsu gave a wry smile. “…This might be the last volleyball game I ever play. The sixth-graders will be quitting the club soon to focus on school… I don’t know if I’ll continue playing in the future… You noticed it, didn’t you? I’m actually really afraid of blocking, it feels like there’s so much pressure.”

“…”

“Even though I can’t win anymore,” Komatsu took a few steps forward, mustered his courage, and put his hands on Oikawa’s shoulders. “But you can, you and Iwaizumi can. You two are the only ones who seriously study volleyball, and you still go to the club to train after club activities.”

“…Is this a deathbed request, Komatsu-senpai?”

“If that’s how you want to think of it, then sure.” Komatsu said, “Take my share and win together, captain.”

“…We will.”

Komatsu took a few steps back and pointed behind Oikawa Tōru with his foot. Kokonoe Taka straightened up and ran into Komatsu just as he was walking around the corner. The captain, whose voice always had only slight fluctuations, was unexpectedly distraught, with tears streaming down his face.

Seeing Kokonoe, he paused for a moment, a little embarrassed, but also a little relieved, and pointed behind him.

Kokonoe Taka spoke before he could open his mouth. “I’ll take care of that guy, Komatsu-senpai. The others are waiting in the car.” He didn’t comment on the other’s disheveled state, and politely nodded to him.

“Thanks, Kokonoe.”

He watched Komatsu walk out of sight with his chest puffed out, and then leaned against the wall and waited for a while before walking out.

Oikawa was sitting on a bench, his legs stretched out straight, his feet swaying. He was holding the edges of the chair with both hands, and when he heard the sound, he looked up at Kokonoe.

“Yo.” He greeted.

Kokonoe Taka unceremoniously sat down next to him, squeezing him to the side. Oikawa Tōru protested in a low voice, “What are you doing? There’s plenty of room over there.”

He laughed twice: “You played terribly.” Then, he leisurely added, “You even said you wanted them to admire you, but you got crushed instead.”

Oikawa Tōru glared at him dejectedly. “I know! I know! You don’t have to repeat it!”

“How does it feel to lose?”

Oikawa Tōru wrinkled his nose and said after a long time, “It feels awful.”

The two of them bantered back and forth. When Oikawa seemed less despondent, Kokonoe Taka returned to the previous topic.

He said, “You’ll win.”

Without context, but Oikawa understood: “…I know that without you saying it.”

He murmured, “I didn’t do enough… My technique isn’t good enough. But that jerk’s left-handedness is cheating—ahhh, so annoying! I’m going to drag Iwa-chan back to practice a hundred serves!”

“…Leave Iwaizumi alone.”

He hummed twice. “Even though I couldn’t win this time, the Great Oikawa was still amazing! I’ll be even better in the future!” He puffed up his cheeks. “So, so I’ll definitely win!” He suddenly turned his head and stared intensely at Kokonoe Taka, who was startled by him, and shouted, “So! You–”

…You have to keep watching–

Oikawa Tōru once again stared at him with an astonishingly bright look, his body leaning forward unconsciously, the warm, gentle afterglow of the sunset falling on his head, like a silent declaration.

In Kokonoe Taka’s vision, everything was so clear.

He moved his lips.

“–” A melodious musical melody interrupted Oikawa’s words. The phone in his jacket pocket was playing his ringtone cheerfully, without any guilt of disturbing the conversation, vibrating constantly.

“Sorry.” Kokonoe Taka took a deep breath and took out his phone from his pocket.

Oikawa Tōru was interrupted and waved his hand a bit unhappily. “Answer it, answer it.”

Kokonoe Taka pressed the answer button: “Hello?”

First, there was soft breathing.

Then the voice coming from the earpiece became a cautious and somewhat high-pitched female voice.

“…Taka?”

–It was his mother.