Score: 0-3
The match had barely started, and we were already falling behind.
Takeda's basketball team was stronger, taller, and more athletic. Their serves were fast, their movements coordinated. Meanwhile, my team was a mess.
Izumi's receives were all over the place.
Kenji's sets were inconsistent.
And my spikes? Useless when I couldn't get a proper set.
I clenched my fists, taking deep breaths.
'Alright. Think. Volleyball isn't just about raw strength. It's about rhythm, adaptation, and control.'
We weren't going to win with power. But maybe—just maybe—we could win with strategy.
Takeda smirked as he stepped up to serve again. His stance was confident, relaxed—he wasn't even taking us seriously.
That pissed me off.
"Get ready!" I shouted.
Izumi and Kōji stiffened in position. The serve came flying—fast and heavy, aimed straight at Izumi again.
I saw it. The way he tensed up too much, locking his elbows.
"Izumi, relax your arms! Let the ball bounce off gently!"
Too late.
The ball slammed into his forearms and ricocheted out of bounds.
Score: 0-4.
Izumi cursed under his breath. "Damn it! That hurts!"
I walked up, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey. Don't just let the ball crash into you. Think of it like… catching an egg."
Izumi blinked. "An egg?"
"Yeah. You don't just hold your hands stiff and let it splatter, right? You absorb the impact."
A beat of silence.
Then, Izumi nodded.
Takeda smirked. "You done strategizing?"
I grinned. "Oh, we're just getting started."
The next serve came fast. This time, Izumi angled his arms better. The ball still wobbled, but at least it stayed in play.
Kenji rushed forward, setting it upward—not perfect, but workable.
I sprinted. Jumped. Swung my arm—
Takeda's block rose to meet me.
'Damn. He's reading me now.'
I twisted my wrist at the last second, tipping the ball over his fingers instead of spiking.
The ball floated just behind him, where no one was covering.
Takeda's eyes widened. "Crap—"
BAM. The ball hit the ground.
Point: Us.
For a second, no one moved.
Then—cheers erupted.
Izumi and Kōji shouted in excitement, nearly tackling me. Kenji let out a sharp whistle.
Takeda scowled. "Tch. Lucky shot."
I just grinned.
'Nope. That was just me getting warmed up.'
The energy shifted.
We weren't just surviving anymore.
We were fighting back.
Takeda's team was still more skilled, but for the first time, they looked slightly unsure.
That's right. Feel the pressure.
Kenji served next. A simple, floaty ball—but it landed in a weak spot.
The basketball team scrambled. Their receive was sloppy. Their setter barely got it up.
Takeda jumped for a spike, powerful and fast.
But Izumi and Kōji got into position.
They raised their arms together, creating a rough but effective block.
Takeda's spike ricocheted off them, bouncing high.
I rushed in. Time slowed.
Kenji set the ball. A little too low.
But I could make it work.
I adjusted mid-air, twisted my body—
BAM!
The ball slammed past Takeda's outstretched arms and hit the floor.
Point: Us.
Score: 2-4.
The gym erupted.
Even Matsuda-sensei, who had been watching with mild amusement, raised an eyebrow.
"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered.
Takeda clicked his tongue. He wasn't smirking anymore.
Now? Now he was pissed.
And that meant—we had a real match on our hands.
.....
Score: 2-4
For the first time since the match started, the basketball team looked bothered.
Their confidence had wavered. Just a little.
Takeda's smirk was gone, replaced by something more serious.
'Good. That means we're getting to them.'
But now? Now they were going to stop playing around.
Takeda turned to his teammates, voice sharp.
"Alright, enough messing around. Focus on shutting down Hinata."
My stomach tightened.
"They're shifting their entire defense to counter me." "That means they see me as a threat." "But it also means I'm about to get completely locked down."
I took a deep breath.
If they were going to adjust… then so would I.
Takeda's serve was faster than before—a clear sign he was taking this seriously now.
The ball shot toward Izumi again.
'He's targeting our weak link.'
Izumi braced himself—his arms shook, but this time, he controlled the receive.
The ball floated up. Kenji rushed under it.
I sprinted forward, ready to spike—
But Takeda was already in position, jumping to block me.
'Damn. He read me again!'
I had half a second to decide.
Instead of swinging full power, I soft-tipped the ball sideways, just barely grazing the block.
Takeda's teammate lunged, barely saving it.
The rally continued.
'They're forcing me into predictable attacks.'
'Which means… I need to change the tempo.'
The next ball came. Kenji set it slightly off-target.
'Not ideal… but I can work with it.'
I jumped—but instead of a power spike, I angled my body mid-air and redirected the ball.
A cross-court shot.
Takeda's libero dived—too late.
BAM. The ball hit the floor.
Point: Us.
Score: 3-4
The gym was silent for a second.
Then, Izumi and Kōji shouted in excitement.
Kenji smirked. "Damn, dude. That was sneaky."
Takeda?
He just cracked his knuckles.
"You're getting annoying."
I grinned. "That's the plan."
The next serve came—harder, faster.
This was it.
The match had officially begun.