The second set of the match began.
The serve went to Kitagawa.
Most Junior Highers at this level have little to no serving technique to speak of, but Tobio Kageyama was a rare exception.
With pinpoint accuracy and impressive power, Kageyama's jump serve stood out even among the best in the prefecture. Today, with his rhythm seemingly perfect, it became a real threat.
So much so that in just the first minute of the second set, the score was already 0–3.
Finally, on the fourth rally, Kageyama made his first mistake: a serve into the net. The score shifted to 1–3.
The moment Kageyama stepped out of the service zone, Akashi Asuka felt as if everyone in Sengoku, including the coach, let out a collective sigh of relief.
Beep!
Sengoku's Jujiro Kazama served. The ball arced gracefully through the air and was cleanly received in Kitagawa's back row by Kunimi. Instantly, Kageyama took control and sent a quick set to Kindaichi.
When Kageyama was in a stable mental state, Kitagawa's quick attacks were nearly unstoppable.
In the blink of an eye, the ball flew from center court to the right sideline. Kindaichi was already midair, poised to strike. The opposite side's block was nowhere in sight.
Boom!
The ball reached the perfect height for a spike, and Kindaichi swung his arm with ease.
But suddenly, without warning, an arm appeared in his peripheral vision, just one arm, but somehow, it sent chills down his spine.
Still airborne, Kindaichi had no choice but to follow through with the spike.
Smack!
The ball clipped the surprise blocker's arm. It wasn't a complete block, but it altered the trajectory, sending the ball sailing high into Sengoku's side of the court.
"One touch!" shouted Oda Miki from midair.
The sudden interruption stunned both sides. Even Sengoku's players were shocked.
No one had seen where Oda had come from.
Despite the surprise, both teams reacted quickly. The ball's arc was stable, and Ryuhei Sanashita stepped up, received it cleanly, and set it for Akashi Asuka at the net.
"You again?! Don't think you'll get through our block so easily!" Kindaichi roared.
Though shaken by his previous error, Kindaichi recovered immediately, joining another middle blocker at the net to form a double block. Kitagawa's discipline and tactical awareness were clearly in a league of their own.
But a split second later, there was a loud crack! as the ball tore through the middle blocker's outstretched arms and slammed into the court.
2–3.
"Damn it!"
Back on the ground, Kindaichi looked across at Akashi's ever-calm, handsome face and clenched his fist in frustration.
From the first set until now, he'd only stopped Akashi's spike once, at the very end of the previous set, and only because of Kageyama's instructions.
Every other time, whether facing him one-on-one or with another blocker, he'd failed to shut him down.
It took three blockers working together to completely stop Akashi's spike.
That fact alone gnawed at Kindaichi.
Especially since this last point was lost due to his own mistake, it made it all the more infuriating.
"Damn it, how the hell did that guy get there?" his fellow middle blocker growled in frustration, not at Akashi, but at Oda Miki.
Yes, Akashi may have scored, but anyone watching closely could tell that the turning point of that rally was Oda's unexpected block that disrupted Kitagawa's rhythm.
Both teams shared a common trait: strong offensive power.
The difference? Kitagawa could sometimes block Akashi's spikes, but Sengoku had no answer at all to Kitagawa's coordinated attacks.
That was the core reason for the widening point gap.
And now, for the first time, Oda Miki had caused a real disruption at the net against Kitagawa.
This wasn't just a single point, it was a potential turning point in the match.
"WOOO!!"
"Nice one, Oda!"
"Let's goooo!"
Morimoto Masato and the others crowded around Oda, cheering loudly with renewed energy.
After the excitement died down a bit, Akashi finally asked the question on everyone's mind.
"Oda, how did you know the ball was going to be set to number 5?"
Unlike Sengoku, whose attacks were heavily focused on Akashi, Kitagawa distributed their offensive chances evenly.
In that rally, aside from Kindaichi, two other hitters were positioned on the left and center. Statistically, those two had a higher chance of receiving the set, especially considering Kindaichi's awkward starting position.
And yet, the ball went to him.
As Akashi asked the question, everyone around fell silent.
They were just as curious.
If it had been pure luck, that would be the end of it, but if it wasn't, it meant something far more significant.
Oda thought for a moment before speaking.
"Their setter… is scary good."
Ryuhei Sanashita groaned. "Yeah, no kidding. He's the 'King,' after all. Not exactly news, Oda."
"No, that's not what I mean."
Oda shook his head. "I mean, he's so good it's almost absurd. My older brother plays in the V2 League, and sometimes he brings his teammates around to scrimmage near our house."
"You guys might not believe this… but based on passing precision alone, Kageyama's already close to the level of my brother's pro setter."
Everyone:
"You're kidding!"
"No way. That's impossible!"
"Come on, Oda, he's in Junior High. You're saying he's almost on par with a pro? There's no way! And wait, your brother's a pro?! Why the hell didn't you ever mention that before?"
The moment Oda finished speaking, the whole team froze, then erupted into chaos.
It wasn't that they lacked composure, it was just that what Oda said was far too outrageous to process calmly.
They didn't want to believe it.
But they knew Oda. Quiet and often overlooked, sure, but never one to joke around, especially not about something like this.
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