JSWGAS Chapter 76

Chapter 76

76.

The result of rock-paper-scissors was that Team B would serve first. Arasawa Masato stood outside the white line, sneering as he bounced the ball a couple of times, his resentful gaze fixed on Oikawa Tōru.

Oikawa Tōru, preparing to receive: “…I think Arasawa-senpai is angry.”

Kokonoe Taka: “Isn’t that because you were talking about him behind his back and he heard you?”

Oikawa Tōru: I was stating facts!

But he didn’t continue to chat idly, instead taking a deep breath and focusing his attention — Arasawa’s jump serve was pretty good, but although powerful, his trajectory selection was rather simple.

This kind of ball, Kokonoe had received countless times over the past week — or rather, he had been hit by it countless times. In the end, he had even become accustomed to this level of force.

Kokonoe Taka received this heavy and fast ball, his arms sinking under the immense pressure. After a dull, aching sensation, he barely managed to set the ball back to the front of the net. Oikawa Tōru had been waiting for a long time, setting the ball to Saijō. The latter swung his arm fiercely, but at the moment of contact with the ball, he restrained his power and hit a light, floating dump shot.

“Nice!” Oikawa cheerfully high-fived Saijō, then turned his head, “And Taka, lower your arms a bit more, lower your center of gravity a bit more, and you’ll be able to control the direction of your receives!”

The dull pain from the inside of his arms just now, declared its presence: “Okay.”

On the other side of the net, Arasawa sighed in frustration, “I was quite proud of that serve, but I didn’t expect it to be received.”

Hanamaki consoled him, “Don’t worry about it, Kokonoe has been hit by Oikawa’s serves countless times, he should be used to it by now–”

“Just take the next point!”

Furue’s voice was a little loud, caught by Oikawa, “I won’t let you take the serve so easily!”

He made a face, satisfied as he watched the three faces behind the opposite net grit their teeth. Having finished his provocation, he took the ball and stepped into the service zone.

Oikawa Tōru had been trying jump serves since elementary school. In the beginning, he was hit in the forehead countless times, and was also ridiculed by Iwaizumi countless times — and in middle school, his jump serve finally became truly proficient.

Thousands of attempts.

The whistle blew.

Oikawa Tōru opened his eyes, lowered the volleyball from his forehead, exhaled, inhaled; took the first step, then tossed the ball, and swung mightily when he reached the highest point –!

“Boom!”

His jump serve was slightly weaker than Arasawa’s, but its advantage lay in its tricky angle and fast speed, rushing towards Furue. The latter received the ball, but failed to get it completely to the net, “Sorry! Cover!”

“Hanamaki!”

Called by Arasawa, Hanamaki ran two steps to the side. His overhand setting wasn’t very good, so he could only use an underhand receive to lift the ball, “Arasawa-senpai!”

The position of this ball was not ideal. Arasawa had just jumped up when he was blocked by Saijō and Oikawa together.

“Don’t think you can break through me with a ball like that?” Saijō stuck out his tongue at Arasawa, his tone provocative, “Try harder, captain.”

Arasawa: “…Damn it!”

He turned his head with a foul expression.

Oikawa’s second serve was still very strong, but it was received by the prepared Furue. Hanamaki sent out a high ball with an overhand pass — Arasawa’s requirements for the set were simple, as long as it was near his hitting point, which Hanamaki happened to be able to set.

Arasawa jumped as the ball rose, intentionally pausing at the moment of the jump. This trick never failed, using the difference in the opponent’s block jump time to achieve a breakthrough — Saijō had already begun to fall, unable to stop it. But in Arasawa’s vision, another pair of hands stubbornly blocked in front of him. His eyes were full of surprise, and his hand had already spiked the ball out of inertia, hitting the fingertips of those hands, fortunately flying out of bounds.

Touch out, Team B scored.

The student acting as referee gave this judgment. Kokonoe Taka rubbed the fingertips of his index and middle fingers that had just touched the ball with his thumb, and simply and neatly turned his head, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, just take the next point.” Saijō waved his hand, and couldn’t help but ask, “But just now — Arasawa’s timing was very clever, you and I jumped almost simultaneously, why were you still able to get a touch?”

“My hang time is better.” Kokonoe Taka explained, thoughtfully, “So that’s what timing is like…”

Oikawa Tōru interjected, “That’s why I said you should play a few more games to get used to it, always studying videos will make your brain go dull.”

Kokonoe Taka: “Basically no one used this technique in the previous three-on-three.”

On the other side, Arasawa touched his chest with lingering fear, “That felt a little scary.”

This was perhaps a strange feeling that only spikers who jumped up to hit the ball could perceive — he had originally thought he had tricked the block, and was relaxing, when suddenly a pair of slender hands appeared in front of him, with distinct knuckles, blocking his spiking path. To be honest, at that moment Arasawa felt like he had been tricked into a movie theater by a pretty poster, only to realize halfway through that he was watching a horror movie…

Remembering the pair of eyes that had met his own through the square net, the light gathered into a point, like a sharp needle stabbing into him, staring at him with great pressure — Arasawa covered his chest, trying to calm his heartbeat, “New students are scary.”

In the next few points, he couldn’t help but divide his attention to Kokonoe: his receives were unexpectedly good, his reaction speed was very fast, and even though there were still some clumsiness and minor mistakes, Oikawa cleverly made up for these flaws.

The score came to 10:13, with Team B leading. Oikawa made a service error this round, “Damn it! Sorry!”

He rubbed his hair in frustration.

Kokonoe Taka: “Don’t worry about it — just block their next attack.”

It was Hanamaki’s turn to serve this round for Team B. He used a very ordinary overhand serve, knowing that this kind of ball wasn’t very aggressive, so he mischievously aimed a net-touching serve at Oikawa, “Sorry, cover!”

Oikawa Tōru received the ball, but was unable to set it — Hanamaki had deliberately aimed at him to prevent him from setting.

“Hanamaki! You’re too mean!” Oikawa got up and backed away, shouting.

“It’s tactics!” Hanamaki said confidently.

Saijō was not good at setting, and Kokonoe hadn’t shown any good plays in setting either — he had only been responsible for receives, blocks, and some spikes just now. But to Team B’s surprise, the three people on the other side didn’t panic because there was no setter.

“Taka!” Oikawa Tōru shouted.

“I know!”

Kokonoe Taka stepped forward quickly, frowning as he raised his hands.

Oikawa Tōru had asked him during a break.

“A long time ago, I taught you how to set — have you forgotten everything?”

To be honest, the setting techniques that Oikawa Tōru had taught him had caused Kokonoe Taka a lot of trouble in middle school — Kokonoe Taka was forced to recall the dark history of his missed shots, his mouth twitched, and was immediately discovered by Oikawa Tōru.

“No way, you really forgot?”

“…I only remember a little.”

“…”

Oikawa Tōru glared at him unhappily, and slowly made a request.

“Oikawa-sama can teach you again–”

‘Aren’t you afraid I’ll steal your setter position?’ ‘…Your mouth is still so annoying!’

— Sometimes Taka can be very annoying.

— Annoying when he deliberately needles him, annoying when he cheers when Iwaizumi beats him up, and annoying when he changes the subject.

But, only this.

Oikawa Tōru was very familiar with the techniques of setting, and Kokonoe Taka’s sets also carried his shadow, his habits. He could immediately discern the direction, distance, and accuracy of this ball — although not as good as Oikawa-sama, he was doing very well.

He silently recited Kokonoe Taka’s next move in his mind — fingers over his brow, controlling the force of his index, middle, and thumb, brief contact, instantaneous force, ring finger adjusting the direction of the set.

And Oikawa Tōru had retreated far enough just now, so his approach distance was appropriate. He jumped into the air, and the ball appeared in front of him at that moment. The height was a little low, probably because Kokonoe Taka was afraid of not being able to coordinate, so he eased up on the force.

Ah, Oikawa-sama still has to make up for it.

Oikawa Tōru thought.

…But, isn’t that the meaning of teammates?

Oikawa Tōru only needed to adjust the angle, and then swing his arm.

“Boom!”

This was not a very perfect quick attack, but it did catch Arasawa and the others off guard. Furue made a diving save, but was still a step too late. The volleyball hit his arm and was bounced out of bounds.

“Yeah!”

As soon as Oikawa Tōru landed, he viciously slapped Kokonoe Taka’s back, “Don’t be afraid, Oikawa-sama will definitely be able to receive your ball — although it’s terrible.”

Saijō walked over from the other side, and high-fived the two, while complaining, “You didn’t need to add that last sentence — but, Kokonoe, good job, that move was really scary.”

Kokonoe Taka quickly and accurately reached out and grabbed Oikawa Tōru, giving him a chokehold. Then, in the midst of Oikawa Tōru’s painful shouts of, “I’m going to suffocate–” he replied with an impassive face, “Thanks to Saijō-senpai for acting as a decoy on the flank, they wouldn’t have reacted.”

Although Saijō didn’t want to miss this opportunity to interact with his juniors, he watched Oikawa Tōru frantically patting Kokonoe Taka’s arm that was choking him, his handsome face turning red, and twitched his lips a few times, “That…Oikawa seems to be dying.”

Oikawa Tōru’s pats and punches failed to penetrate the enemy’s armor. Kokonoe Taka sneered, “Tōru’s vitality is as tenacious as a cockroach.” But he finally let go.

Oikawa Tōru: “Cough cough cough…don’t lump Oikawa-sama in with those disgusting things!”

Although Kokonoe Taka’s setting was terrible (Oikawa’s words), it was still very intimidating as a surprise attack in a three-on-three match. Although Oikawa Tōru was a setter, his other techniques were no less inferior to his setting skills. But as the game continued to drag on, Saijō made a mistake first.

“Sorry.” He spread his hands helplessly after his spiking error, “Although this sounds like I’m letting you down, my spiking is already at its limit today… If I keep spiking, I feel like I’ll throw up on the spot.”

Oikawa Tōru raised his eyebrows without saying anything, and Kokonoe Taka narrowed his eyes slightly, “Saijō-senpai seemed very excited when blocking — especially when blocking Arasawa-senpai?”

“Ah, that.” Saijō thought for a moment, cleared his throat twice, and motioned for Kokonoe Taka to come closer. The latter obediently did so, and began to whisper in Kokonoe’s ear, “Kokonoe, don’t you think that looking at the opposing spiker’s unwillingness after blocking — that stifled feeling of wanting to hit but not being able to reach you, is very good?”

Kokonoe Taka: “…”

Saijō enthusiastically tried to persuade him, “Look, like just now when I got a touch on Arasawa’s straight shot. And then you covered the block, his expression at that time, don’t you think it was very satisfying to watch?”

Kokonoe Taka pondered for a moment, “I didn’t pay attention to that.”

Saijō patted him on the shoulder and said enthusiastically, “Then try it next time! Ah, right, remember to act… ah, no, remember to be friendly, after all, friendship first, competition second, you have to let the other side feel our friendliness–”

Kokonoe Taka said without changing his expression, “Is that so, I understand.”

Oikawa Tōru, who had heard the entire conversation: “…”

Don’t learn strange things from the sadistic senpai! And you’re obviously tempted!

However, Saijō was right about one thing, he had shouldered most of the offensive responsibilities just now, and his spiking was already at its limit.

Oikawa Tōru glanced at the scoreboard on the sidelines.

23:21, they were leading by two points, and now it was Arasawa’s serve.

“Saijō-senpai, you can handle the receives, right?” Oikawa Tōru said, then quickly glanced at Kokonoe Taka, “Taka.” He enunciated each syllable very clearly, “You have to jump properly for me, okay?”

…

……

Sometimes, Oikawa Tōru would think, what is a setter?

— It is the hub of the team, the conductor of the orchestra, the general on the battlefield, the chess player on the chessboard.

Bringing out the best in everyone on the court, fully unleashing the team’s potential, making use of attackers of all personalities, turning them into blades in the setter’s hand, bait to lure the enemy, and one of the possibilities for victory.

This is the setter.

Oikawa Tōru’s desire to win wouldn’t allow there to be an attacker he couldn’t control.

But he had to admit that controlling Taka was more difficult than he had imagined.

This didn’t mean that Kokonoe Taka wasn’t doing his best to jump and spike. On the contrary, those who had coordinated with him during this time thought he was playing pretty well, but only to a ‘pretty well’ extent.

Kokonoe Taka would never stop there. He couldn’t only get a ‘pretty well’ rating. Oikawa Tōru realized that he believed in him more than he had originally thought, even without a reason. He firmly believed that Kokonoe Taka could be stronger.

Oikawa Tōru had many videotapes of volleyball games that he had collected at home. Among them was a row of ‘oddballs’: videotapes of Kokonoe Taka’s basketball games in middle school. From the second half of his first year to his third year, they were sandwiched in there, particularly conspicuous.

Oikawa Tōru sometimes ran to Tokyo, or watched the broadcasts of his games at home, but more often than not he was busy with training. And in his spare time, he would use the other’s games as lullabies or watch them to pass the time.

Sometimes Iwaizumi Hajime would also visit, one person with one earphone, watching the entire basketball game together, a game they weren’t familiar with.

Oikawa Tōru looked at the face on the screen at one point, and suddenly said, “Iwa-chan, geniuses are really annoying.”

Iwaizumi Hajime was too lazy to answer him, he was busy sending a text message to the protagonist in the videotape congratulating him on winning the game.

Oikawa Tōru didn’t need his answer either.

Oikawa Tōru, who was blocked by geniuses and chased by geniuses, was the most qualified to express his resentment towards geniuses. But he thought he should add another reason to hate geniuses —

Being a setter for a genius is really stressful.

Is the ball I set the most suitable for him? Can I unleash all of his power?

It doesn’t matter, Oikawa Tōru was used to pressure.

And on the court — his pride, his desire to control, wouldn’t allow him to not be able to control this attacker who had been silent all along.

Arasawa served, and Saijō perfectly received it, passing it to the setter’s position, but the defense on the other side was also organized quickly. The volleyball gradually approached.

Oikawa Tōru’s posture was flawless, making it impossible to tell whether he was going to set this ball to Saijō in the middle or Kokonoe on the left wing.

His fingers touched and left the surface of the ball, Oikawa Tōru knew how he wanted to set this ball. Even so, he couldn’t help but hold his breath: Can you resist? Can you resist the urge to hit this ball? Can you resist the desire for this ball?

“So high–?!”

Furue couldn’t help but call out in surprise. And besides him, everyone on the court was shocked by the height of this ball. And more perceptive people realized that this ball was not only high, but also far from the net and slower.

Saijō’s hitting point wasn’t that high, and Kokonoe’s previous hitting point was only barely able to reach this ball: Was it Oikawa’s mistake?

Of course not.

Oikawa Tōru could make mistakes, but this ball was undoubtedly an angle, height, and speed that he had studied for a long time before choosing.

He was like a cunning hunter deliberately using the smell of blood to attract sharks.

In an instant, the person approaching from the backcourt appeared in everyone’s vision. After a heavy stomp, a figure cast a heavy shadow like a sun-obstructing canopy. Kokonoe Taka stared intently at the volleyball in the air, subconsciously licking his lips.

I really want to spike it.

This ball can only be spiked by me.

Chest puffed out, abdomen extended, rotated to the side, right arm raised. Power wound and gathered in his arm, finally accumulating wanting to find a breakthrough.

His arm was almost dislocated as he viciously swung it forward.

The palm touched the ball, with a strange, oppressive feeling.

“Boom!”

A loud sound, like thunder.

The strange feeling disappeared.

Without any angle modification, a ball blasted out purely using the height of the approach, the height of the set, and his own strength, crashed into Hanamaki’s blocking hands, and after one touch, continued to rush backward without diminishing its offensive power. The landing point of the ball was easy to judge, but Furue felt a chill climb up his back before receiving the ball, his brain ordering him to adjust his posture, but his arms were still a beat slow.

The volleyball was bounced out of bounds.

Oikawa Tōru looked at the person who had hit this amazing ball in the quiet seconds, and the other person happened to look over at the right time.

Joy, satisfaction.

Appeared simultaneously in two different pairs of eyes, one cold and one warm.