Karasuno scored, forcing Aoba Johsai to pull Yahaba off the court.
That was the fate of an emergency server—if the gamble failed, he was subbed out.
Before leaving, Yahaba glanced at Kyotani with frustration etched on his face.
"Kyotani, I'm counting on you."
He knew this was his last chance today. From here on, everything rested on his teammates.
Kyotani simply nodded, silent but resolute.
In the stands, the girls were a bundle of nerves. Their palms were slick with sweat.
Karasuno stood on the cusp of match point—but that didn't mean the win was guaranteed.
Aoba Johsai had clawed back before. They had tied the first two sets with sheer grit, even stealing the second from behind. Nobody could say for certain they wouldn't rise again.
But with Hayato stepping up to serve, Karasuno's faith solidified.
"Hayato-senpai, finish it here!"
"Score it clean!"
Hitoka cupped her hands and shouted at the top of her lungs. Koyuki was even more blunt, screaming without restraint.
On the opposite side, Oikawa and Iwaizumi masked their unease with forced confidence.
"Of all times, it had to be his serve…"
"This is bad."
They weren't wrong.
Hayato pressed his fingers against the ball, feeling the seams. His breath was heavy, his body weary. Stamina was fading—precision would be harder. But if he held back now, if he gave Aoba Johsai a chance to set up a return, Karasuno's path would only grow steeper.
There was no choice.
This one has to be it.
The whistle pierced the air. Hayato tossed the ball skyward, eyes sharp, every muscle screaming as he poured everything into his jump serve.
"Bang!"
The ball crashed down untouched.
Service ace.
Karasuno hit match point.
The gymnasium erupted in chaos.
"Yes!!"
"Match point!"
"Hayato, you did it!"
Asahi and Daichi sprinted to him first, slapping his hands in triumph. Kageyama and Nishinoya joined in, and soon the whole team was huddled together—arms draped over shoulders, fists bumping, voices roaring.
Across the court, Aoba Johsai's players didn't flinch. Their silence was dangerous—like the stillness of water before it bursts its banks. Their eyes burned with defiance.
Hayato served again, aiming to close it out in one strike.
But Iwaizumi refused. He read the ball, stepped forward, and received cleanly.
"Don't underestimate us, Seijoh!"
"Chance ball—attack!"
Oikawa feinted one way, then flicked the set to Kyotani. The Wild Dog roared, spiking with everything he had. The ball kissed Tsukishima's fingers and spun out of bounds, straight into the stands.
The gamble paid off.
24–23.
One point separated them from either heartbreak or glory.
Hayato froze, doubt gnawing at him.
Why is this happening again? Even with me here, why are we still barely holding on?
His gaze drifted to Hinata on the sideline.
And then he saw it.
Those eyes—bright, unwavering, unclouded by fear. Pure trust, pure belief.
Hinata didn't waver. He believed in his seniors, in his teammates, in the game itself.
Hayato's chest clenched.
What am I doing, doubting now? Didn't I swear to lead us to Nationals? To win the championship, to stand tall before Kiyoko-nee? Daichi-senpai trusted me with this—how could I falter?
A smile spread across his face.
Thanks, Shoyo. I'll carry this through.
The next serve came ripping across the net, but Karasuno's Guardian Deity was ready. Nishinoya slid in, his arms steady, sending the ball flying.
Kageyama spread the offense wide, multiple voices shouting as they leapt, but in the end, he chose the senior Ace.
"Asahi!"
The left-side hammer tore through the block, but Aoba Johsai's defense held.
Counterattack.
Kyotani thundered in from the side, his cross-court aimed for blood—but Nishinoya refused him again.
"Nice receive!"
Hayato soared from the back row, slamming a spike deep into the court.
"Iwaizumi, get it!"
The Seijoh Ace dove, saving it. Oikawa chased, flicking a perfect ball to Matsukawa—normally quiet on offense. Karasuno relaxed for a fraction of a second.
Matsukawa swung.
"No way I'll let you through!"
Hayato dove, switching his hand mid-air, bumping with the back of his fist. The ball barely skimmed over to Tsukishima. He couldn't swing—he just poked it over.
Kyotani reached, keeping it alive. The ball rose vertically. Hanamaki leapt, slamming a quick spike—
But Asahi was already there. A single, solid block sent it screaming back.
Seijoh rallied one last time. Oikawa, on his knees, set from the floor, feeding Iwaizumi for a back-row assault.
The spike ripped past the block, roaring toward the floor.
"Noya!!"
Nishinoya flung out one hand, somehow popping it up—but the force was too much. The ball spun wildly off court.
"I've got it!"
Daichi sprinted, stretching, and with a desperate flick, sent it back.
Aoba Johsai's eyes lit up.
"Chance ball!"
But Hayato had already launched, sprinting from the sideline, leaping higher than ever before.
"No chance for you!"
He smashed the ball down straight toward Oikawa, who had barely regained his footing.
Too fast. Too sharp.
Oikawa managed to touch it, but the receive wobbled, soaring out of bounds.
No one saved it.
25–23.
The whistle blew.
It was over.
Karasuno had won.
The gym shook with applause and cheers as orange jerseys crashed into each other, laughing, crying, shouting. Across the court, Aoba Johsai stood heavy with grief, their journey ending here.
At the net, Oikawa and Kageyama locked eyes. No words passed between them—only a silent recognition of the battle they had fought.
Both teams bowed, shouting in unison, "Thank you for the game!"
Karasuno returned to their bench. Coach Ukai's chest swelled with pride.
"You all did amazing."
Beside him, Takeda-sensei's eyes shone. From the corner, Kiyoko discreetly wiped away a tear, unnoticed by most—except Hayato, who saw, and quietly tucked the image away.
In the stands, Saeko jumped, waving wildly, calling every name she knew. The cheer squad, tears streaking their cheeks, screamed themselves hoarse.
The gym was alive with victory.
And on the opposite side, Yahaba clenched his teeth, staring at Karasuno.
Next year… we'll take this back.
His red eyes betrayed the tears he'd shed. Around him, Kyotani, Kindaichi, and the other underclassmen shared the same fire.
Their seniors' time was over. But theirs had just begun.
For today, Aoba Johsai exited the stage.
And Karasuno marched forward.
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