"So, what does that have to do with you blocking their attack?"
While the rest of the team was still reeling from the shocking revelation Miki had made, Akashi Asuka calmly posed this question.
Miki looked slightly surprised, then nodded. "Of course it's related. Volleyball is a team sport. When one player's skill level is significantly higher than the rest of the team, a disconnect is bound to occur."
"In that sense, both Kitagawa and our team are actually quite similar."
He paused and gave Akashi Asuka a somewhat complicated look before continuing, "The difference lies in where our strongest players are. That difference in positioning makes it seem like our teams are completely different in style."
"But in reality, Kitagawa's so-called team synergy is more like their setter single-handedly commanding the other five players."
"That's why all our previous attempts at analyzing their team strategy were pointless. The truth is, we only need to read the mind of one person, their setter."
"Their setter's actions are actually pretty straightforward. Because his passing technique is so refined, he doesn't need to predict anything ahead of time. He just scans our weak spots in blocking and uses his passes to avoid them entirely."
"That's why we've never once managed to block their attacks up to now."
"From the very beginning, they weren't playing a guessing game with us. Their attacks were laid out in the open."
Miki's explanation was thorough and logical. Everyone, aside from Oomae Masato who looked slightly confused, seemed to understand it well.
But even with the understanding, the troubled expressions on their faces didn't fade.
"Now that you've said all that, that guy just sounds even more terrifying." Ryuhei Sanashita scratched his head, frowning. "If he's attacking based on our gaps in blocking, doesn't that mean even if we guess his intention, we still can't stop him?"
"No." said Akashi Asuka. "We can stop him now."
…
BEEP!
The match resumed.
Sengoku served, and Kitagawa's ace received the ball cleanly. Tobio Kageyama immediately stepped in to prepare for the set.
On Sengoku's side, Akashi positioned himself alone near midcourt, while the other two middle blockers moved to cover Kindaichiichi on the right.
Kageyama, airborne, glanced across the front line. Then with a flick of his wrists, the ball sailed into motion.
In the next moment,
Akashi Asuka sprang into action.
He didn't look at where the ball was headed. The moment it left Kageyama's hands, Akashi shifted quickly to the left and leapt into the air.
WHAM!
SMACK!
He felt the familiar impact of the ball against his arm, then heard the sound of contact. The ball landed on Kitagawa's side of the court.
As Kageyama landed, his eyes widened in disbelief at what he had just seen.
"YES!" Miki clenched his fists, eyes shining with excitement.
Even though the plan had been his idea, Miki had been uncertain whether it would work, he'd never actually tested the theory in a real match before.
After all, his physical condition wasn't exceptional. Like the previous play, even when he guessed the attack direction, he could only barely reach the ball, and only because Kindaichiichi had let his guard down.
Score: 3–3.
The Sengoku players celebrated their first successful block, then quickly moved into position for the next rally.
Their tactic remained the same: focus the block on two attackers, and intentionally leave one attacker with one or two subtle openings.
This setup had a major flaw, it further diluted Sengoku's already weak blocking power.
Normally, any other team would have simply used their ace to bulldoze through Sengoku's defenses.
But they were up against Tobio Kageyama.
His exceptional talent had created a severe disconnect between his own abilities and those of his teammates. Because no one else could match his level in any skill, Kageyama often fell into a "power trap."
That trap was: he only trusted his own strength.
This kind of trap doesn't just apply to Kageyama, it was something even Akashi Asuka was beginning to show signs of falling into.
But there's a key difference in their positions.
When an ace believes only in his own power, he becomes the sharpest spear on the court.
When a setter does the same, the outcome is different, he either abandons his teammates, or they abandon him.
Without trust in his teammates, he cannot fully bring out their strengths.
Because Kageyama didn't believe in his teammates' abilities, his subconscious decisions always avoided putting them in direct confrontations with the opponent, even if the opponent's blockers weren't much of a threat.
WHAM!
SMACK!
That familiar sensation, that same explosive force.
As the ball hit the floor again, Akashi Asuka raised his clenched right fist high into the air.
After a brief moment of stunned silence, the crowd exploded.
"OOOOHHHHH!"
"A comeback... a COMEBACK! For the first time, they've taken the lead!"
"Let's go, Sengoku!!"
…
Score: 4–3.
For the first time since the match began, Sengoku had taken the lead.
Their morale soared.
On the other side, after conceding four consecutive points, Kitagawa's coach called a timeout without hesitation.
Back in the bench area,
The coach looked calm. He glanced at the visibly frustrated Kageyama and sighed. "Kageyama, you need to learn to trust your teammates."
"I know that!" Kageyama shot back irritably.
But his expression made it clear he hadn't taken the advice to heart.
Seeing this, the coach simply shook his head. The words he had wanted to say were swallowed back down.
After years of coaching, he could clearly see Sengoku's entire tactical setup, it wasn't particularly sophisticated. In fact, it was clearly designed to target one person.
Tobio Kageyama.
To break this stalemate, all he had to do was substitute Kageyama out.
But after some thought, he didn't.
"If this match can knock some sense into him... then maybe it'll be worth it." the coach thought silently.
It was just one set. Kitagawa had the depth to afford the loss. However...