Facing Ushijima Wakatoshi's serve at the most critical moments of a match had become something Kaedehara Taichi was thoroughly used to—like a cruel joke that fate kept repeating.
In this instant, the tension on the court felt palpable. The air thickened, and every breath seemed cautious as if the next second would mark the end of everything.
Ushijima exhaled softly, his chest rising and falling as he regulated his breathing. Then, with a calm, precise motion, he delivered his signature serve—a powerful strike, cutting through the air like a blazing meteor aimed directly at the opposing side.
Iwaizumi Hajime received it high into the air without a trace of surprise on his face. He had imagined this scenario thousands of times before—it was almost second nature.
Shirabu Kenjirō set the ball to the far left, making a decisive choice. Even now, he put his trust in their left-handed ace.
Taichi took off from the back row, his left hand rising with force. He smashed the ball violently.
"One Touch!" Shiratorizawa's Terushima Yūji deftly read the attack and formed a perfect block.
The spin from Taichi's left-handed strike caused the ball to veer toward the left sideline, but Yamagata Hayato lunged just in time to save it. Oikawa Tōru quickly set the ball to the right wing where Kindachi Yūtarō went in for a heavy spike.
Goshiki Tsutomu, alone on the block, managed to contain Kindachi's power. Shirabu glanced at the front line—both Tendō Satori and Futakuchi Kenji were options for a quick attack.
The ball flew toward the middle. Futakuchi leapt from the back row, aiming for a sharp, direct hit.
"Double block!" Terushima and Kindachi reacted with impressive speed, closing off the lane.
For a moment, Futakuchi hesitated. His eyes flicked to the left, catching sight of a figure in midair.
"Really pushing for the attack, aren't you?" Futakuchi smirked, tipping the ball with one hand toward the left wing.
The set was slightly too close to the net—but it was enough.
Kaedehara Taichi struck again—another left-handed hammer.
This time Oikawa was already there, having read the shot perfectly.
"He's getting stronger…His spikes have more force with every hit."
The powerful spin from Taichi's left hand sent the ball rebounding into the air. Ushijima recovered it, and Kunimi Akira sent a controlled tip over the net.
Iwaizumi made a clean pass to Shirabu.
With four attackers already in motion, the offensive options exploded wide open.
"One more!" Taichi surged forward, gearing up for his third back-row spike.
"I've got this!" Goshiki called out, unwilling to be outdone.
Washijō's blockers hesitated—uncertainty froze them in place.
Shirabu's eyes flickered momentarily before sending the ball to Taichi again. With Ushijima positioned down the line, Goshiki's cross-court option would be nearly impossible to land.
The third strike—a left-handed missile—blazed down the left sideline.
Smack! Yamagata hit the floor, sprawled out from the sheer force of the shot.
The power in Taichi's left hand seemed to grow with each spike—an almost unstoppable escalation.
Oikawa's instincts screamed a silent warning. No fourth spike. Don't let him hit again.
He dashed to the sideline, pointing a single finger back toward Ushijima.
A beautiful backset from outside the court. Graceful, precise, and unwavering.
Ushijima launched himself from the back row, planting his foot firmly and propelling upward with ferocious strength.
"Seriously? A full-power attack in this situation?!"
"Even with a messy first touch, Oikawa-senpai can still set perfectly…This is bad."
Team Washijō's dominance loomed so heavily that even the spectators found themselves cheering internally for Team Irihata to prevail.
With flawless form, Ushijima unleashed a devastating spike—the signature left-handed cannon.
"I'll surpass you, Ushiwaka-senpai!"
"I will defeat you, Wakatoshi!"
At the crucial moment, Tendō Satori and Goshiki Tsutomu rose together, hands extended high—once teammates, now rivals facing the player they most wanted to overcome.
" One touch!" Tendō Satori shouted loudly as he read the play.
"Give me the ball!" Kaedehara Taichi's voice erupted, commanding attention.
Pulling back to gain momentum, he charged forward from the back row, eyes fierce with determination.
Shirabu Kenjirō recognized Taichi's resolve and didn't hesitate—he sent a high set to the left wing.
"Triple block!" Team Washijō's front line surged upward, their synchronized leap forming a solid wall as the slow arc of the high ball gave them precious time to assemble.
Futakuchi Kenji shadowed the middle.
In a split second, Taichi grasped Futakuchi's intent. Just as Futakuchi had avoided the block earlier by tipping the ball to him, Taichi now knew that his best option was to pass the ball back.
But something within him burned too brightly to ignore.
And the ace decides the match point.
Taichi's arm coiled like a whip, his muscles taut and springing forward with brutal force.
He smashed the ball—a fourth time—straight into the heart of the triple block.
Even now, Taichi didn't reach for the finesse or strategy of his earlier repertoire. His sole intent was to overwhelm with power.
The ball tore through Kunimi Akira's outstretched arms, slamming into Team Washijō's court with a thunderous crash.
In the back row, Yamagata Hayato had shifted back, preparing for a touch-out play. His misstep made a last-second dive impossible.
[Team Irihata 25 - 25 Team Washijō]
The match wasn't over yet.
Now it was Team Washijō's turn to feel the creeping tension—for standing at the service line was Kaedehara Taichi himself.
"So this is what it feels like when your serve becomes a real threat," Taichi murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips. He gave the ball a few light taps, savoring the atmosphere as he watched the opposing team brace themselves.
"Which one should I use?" His mind raced for only a fraction of a second before his instincts took over.
He tossed the ball confidently.
Another powerful left-handed serve.
The same serve that had earned a point off Ushijima Wakatoshi earlier.
This one flew straight at Ushijima again.
With an unreadable expression, Ushijima received it cleanly.
"Eh?" Taichi blinked in surprise, backpedaling into position. He adjusted that fast?
Oikawa Tōru took control, sending a precise set to the right wing for Terushima Yūji.
Tendō's block held firm, but Iwaizumi Hajime kept the ball alive. Shirabu returned it to the left wing.
Without a true offensive threat in sight, Shirabu once again entrusted Taichi with the final hit.
This was no longer about options. Shirabu wanted to see just how far Taichi's strength could go.
The ball hung in the air for a heartbeat too long, and Taichi's grin widened.
Not quite satisfied with his last spike, he was more than ready to strike again. Even from the back row, he would keep attacking.
Launching forward, he timed his approach perfectly.
This time, Kindachi Yūtarō and Kunimi switched positions, with Kunimi covering the right diagonal while Kindachi and Terushima reinforced the center line.
There was no room for brute force. No margin for error.
Kaedehara hovered in the air, eyes sharp as he read the block.
"Then I just won't force my way through."
With a flick of his wrist, he aimed for the edge of Terushima's hand.
The ball deflected, changing its trajectory the instant it grazed the side of the block.
The ball hit the ground.
Kaedehara Taichi's point.
[Team Irihata 26 - 25 Team Washijō]
"Super spikes are fun, but this—" Taichi grinned, mimicking a finger gun as he pretended to blow away imaginary smoke—"this kind of play is just as satisfying."
Two consecutive points. The momentum had shifted in an instant.
"I thought we'd go past thirty points!"
"Hey, it's not over yet!"
"I really thought Ushiwaka's spike was the end…"
The spectators, holding their breath for so long, finally sighed in relief. The relentless back-and-forth had them on edge.
When Kaedehara Taichi stepped back up to the service line, an unusual calm washed over him.
"If only I had been stronger back then…"
Ever since returning from Tokyo, this thought had haunted him whenever he stopped moving. It echoed in his mind like a relentless drumbeat.
And so, he kept training. Kept chasing strength.
This match—he could feel it—he would win it.
But deep inside, something told him it still wasn't enough.
When Ushijima's serves brought him to the brink of defeat, when his own spikes failed three times in a row—those moments of razor-thin survival weren't how he wanted to win.
The next time they faced Inarizaki, when Aoba Johsai sought victory again…
He would leave no doubt.
There would be no suspense.
This time, a right-handed serve—a crushing blow with pinpoint accuracy.
The ball traced a perfect arc, landing just beyond Yamagata's reach, skimming the baseline.
[Team Irihata 27 - 25 Team Washijō]
The final point ended in a blink of an eye.
On the fifth day of training camp, in the eighth match, victory belonged to Team Irihata.
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