The gym buzzed with tension as the scoreboard blinked 23–24. Karasuno was on the brink of losing the set. The regular server, Tanaka, had just been blocked twice. Coach Ukai looked down the bench, eyes landing on the quietest player of the team — Riku Aizawa, the pinch server.
Riku had barely spoken since joining the team mid-season. He wasn't known for powerful spikes or flashy plays, but when it came to serving, there was something electric about his focus. "Aizawa, you're in," Coach said simply.
The gym's noise seemed to fade as Riku stood, rolling his shoulders. His teammates cheered, but he didn't hear them. His eyes locked on the court. Every detail sharpened — the positions of the blockers, the libero's stance, the slight shift in the opponent's captain's weight.
He spun the ball once in his hand, inhaled deeply, and leaped.
The serve cut through the air like lightning — fast, flat, unpredictable. The opposing receiver flinched a second too late. The ball kissed the line and bounced away.
Ace serve.
24–24.
Another serve. This time, a feint — slower, angled. The setter barely reached it, and Karasuno's middle blocker slammed the return home. 25–24.
The crowd erupted, but Riku only smiled faintly. His job was simple — change momentum, one serve at a time.
By the end of the set, Karasuno had turned the tide, winning 27–25. As the team huddled, Hinata clapped Riku on the back. "You're not just lightning, man," he grinned. "You're the storm that starts it."
Riku looked up, sweat dripping, eyes calm. "I'll be ready when the next one hits."