As the match entered its later stages, Aoba Johsai only became more dangerous. Even after Karasuno had scored through the combined assault of Hayato, Hinata, and Kageyama, Oikawa and his team remained unfazed, answering immediately with sharp counterplay.
Receiving Tsukishima's serve, Oikawa directed the ball to Kyotani. The Mad Dog lived up to his name, hammering through Karasuno's double block on Tanaka's side. The spike blasted past the wall of arms and hit the floor hard—another point for Aoba Johsai.
Tanaka clicked his tongue in frustration, while Tsukishima, rotating to the back row, narrowed his eyes. He could feel it: an invisible clash was brewing between Tanaka and Kyotani. Both were hot-blooded competitors, and each point seemed to add fuel to the fire.
"Hayato-senpai."
Tsukishima called out, sharing his observation.
Hayato, who had been laser-focused on simply scoring, blinked in surprise before realizing Tsukishima was right. Before the next serve, he quickly gathered Daichi, and the back-row trio whispered a plan, adjusting their defensive formation.
When Aoba Johsai attacked again, Kyotani went for the same route—straight down Tanaka's left side. But this time, Daichi was already waiting. The spike smacked into his wrist with a sharp crack and rebounded high into the air.
"Chance ball!"
Karasuno instantly shifted forward, attackers flooding the net. Kageyama sent the toss up, and multiple players leapt, arms swinging. But Aoba Johsai, reading their multi-pronged assault, steadied themselves. Iwaizumi lunged and, with a desperate dive, barely kept the ball alive, neutralizing Karasuno's strike.
"Ah, too bad!" Hitoka cried from the stands, clenching her fists.
"Aoba Johsai's defense is impressive," Saeko admitted with a grim.
The rallies grew fiercer, back and forth, neither side yielding. Eventually, the scoreboard climbed to 24–23—Karasuno's match point.
As Kageyama rotated to serve, Tsukishima subbed out, and Nishinoya returned to the court.
Now it was on Kageyama. The second-strongest server on the team—right behind Hayato. The atmosphere crackled with expectation.
"If this drags into another deuce, it'll be bad," Shimada muttered gravely, pushing his glasses up.
"Why? Even if we lose this set, there's still the third," Saeko countered.
Shimada shook his head. "It's not that simple. We had match point last set too, and they caught up. That thorn is still there, buried deep. If we get dragged into a deuce again, the pressure will crush us harder than them."
"And don't forget No. 16," he added, voice low. "Kyotani. He's been reckless, yes, but he's also syncing with Oikawa now. He's like a double-edged sword, and Oikawa's the one holding the hilt."
The group fell silent. They didn't need any more explanation—everyone could see the danger.
"Then all we can do is cheer louder," Koyuki declared, her childish face unusually determined. "We can't do anything else."
Saeko laughed and slung an arm around her shoulder. "You're right. That's what we'll do. Karasuno—fight!!"
Their synchronized shouts filled the gym as Kageyama began his run-up. The ball soared into the air, the whistle echoing—this serve could decide it all.
But it was Iwaizumi again, steady as always. He slid into position, arms outstretched, and absorbed the blow of Kageyama's jump serve. "Chance ball!" Aoba Johsai roared, their attack already forming.
"Block it!!" Sugawara and the bench screamed, as the coaches leaned forward, eyes locked on the rally.
Hinata's mind raced. Who will it be? Kyotani? Iwaizumi? Someone else? His eyes darted—then he caught movement. A spiky-haired figure darting past Kyotani.
"Is it you!?"
But no—it was still Kyotani. The set went to him after all, and by the time Hinata realized, it was too late to jump.
"Cover!!" he shouted desperately.
"Leave it to me!"
The Guardian Deity did not falter. Nishinoya lunged, arms low, and with perfect form scooped up Kyotani's cannon-like spike.
"Chance ball!!"
The girls in the stands screamed until their throats were raw. The rally, the point, the fate of the set—all hung in the air.
Kageyama sent the toss high. Attackers surged forward. But this time, instead of the usual spikers, he sent the ball to Daichi.
"Daichi-senpai!!"
The captain soared, eyes blazing, and slammed the ball with all his might.
But waiting for him, hands already extended above the net, was Kyotani. Wild intuition had driven him to abandon his mark and leap in front of Daichi.
Smack!!
The ball crashed into Kyotani's palms, rebounded, and ricocheted off Nishinoya's wrist as he dove to save it. Out of bounds. Point to Aoba Johsai.
Deuce again.
Silence fell over Karasuno's side. Two sets in a row—match point, then dragged into a deuce. The players' shoulders sagged, their eyes dimmed.
Just as Shimada had said, the thorn from the last set had split open, its weight crushing the team's momentum.
Ukai immediately called a timeout. Karasuno's players trudged to the bench in silence, the air heavy with defeat. Even Tanaka and Nishinoya, usually loud and fiery, said nothing.
But in that darkness, a voice cut through.
"We haven't lost yet."
Everyone turned. Hayato's eyes were still burning bright.
"That's right! We haven't lost yet!" Hinata added, his words blazing like sunlight.
Their voices sparked something. First Tanaka and Nishinoya, then the others—eyes rekindling, backs straightening.
"Yeah, it's only a deuce. We've been here before!"
"If we won once, we can win again!"
Energy surged back into Karasuno's veins.
Daichi exhaled, smiling faintly, and looked at Hayato. "This time, you lead the cheer."
"Yes!" Hayato grinned, stepping into the circle. He raised his hand, and together they shouted:
"Karasuno—GO!!"
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