"Yamaguchi!"
"Fantastic! Serve!"
The formidable opponent Karasuno had battled against for so long was finally defeated, thanks to Tadashi Yamaguchi's clutch float serve.
Everyone in Karasuno erupted with excitement!
Hinata and Tanaka rushed forward, tackling Yamaguchi in a hug, their faces filled with disbelief and joy!
Even Tsukishima, who usually spoke in his signature cold tone, pushed his glasses up and muttered:
"That serve was... decent."
"I... I really did it?"
Yamaguchi stared at the court, his ears ringing with the deafening cheers from his teammates.
Across the net, Shiratorizawa's players looked on with expressions of frustration and disbelief.
"I scored on serve… against Shiratorizawa?"
A wave of shock and exhilaration surged through him, nearly overwhelming his senses.
"Alright! Alright!"
On the sidelines, Coach Ukai clapped his hands and strode forward.
"Rest up and regain your strength! The match isn't over yet—we've still got a tough fight ahead!"
"Push through the next set and take them down!"
Then, turning to Yamaguchi, he gave a small nod and added:
"The execution wasn't perfect, but the result was good."
"Just make sure you work through your nerves. You might not get this lucky next time."
"Yes, sir!"
...
In the stands, Shimada exhaled a deep breath, pressing a hand to his chest.
"Phew! That scared the hell out of me!"
"Who the hell thought it was a good idea to send Yamaguchi in at such a crucial moment?!"
Beside him, Taki smirked.
"Isn't he your apprentice? He did pretty well."
"Apprentice? No way! I only taught him how to do a float serve—I'm no master."
Shimada shook his head furiously.
"Besides, he hasn't even perfected it yet! Sending him in at match point? That's just reckless!"
"That serve was definitely a mistake. He just got lucky that it landed well."
"Sometimes, luck is a part of skill."
Taki chuckled.
"Now that he's experienced a real victory, he'll gain confidence. The next time he's subbed in, he won't be as nervous."
"You've got a point. If I'd had the chance, I would've taught him some more tricks to manage his nerves before he stepped on the court."
Shimada sighed, shaking his head in exasperation.
"Let's just hope he does even better next time."
...
"Unbelievable!"
In the Stands, Naoto Kunimura exclaimed in surprise.
"Karasuno's pinch server just scored an ace!"
"That was an incredibly risky float serve! It's clear he hasn't been using it for long."
Beside him, Yoshino Heiji frowned, his expression tight with concern.
"It's not just about this one serve—it's about this whole match!"
"Karasuno has reached match point, while Shiratorizawa still hasn't responded!"
Mitsuda added with a hint of doubt:
"That's right! And what's even more baffling is Akira's spike!"
"I've never seen such a bizarre technique before! How did it rebound like that off an opponent's arm?!"
"It's like the ball has a built-in spring!"
"Exactly!"
Yoshino Heiji nodded eagerly, his interest piqued.
"Shiratorizawa still hasn't figured out how to receive it. Their only response so far has been brute force! That means…"
"This spike might be impossible to counter!"
"If I ever get the chance, I'd love to experience it myself."
Kunimura blinked in confusion, a strange sense of familiarity creeping over him.
For some reason, their conversation felt oddly reminiscent of something he had heard before.
"That spike… what's the secret behind it?"
He fell into deep thought.
...
Across the court, Coach Washijo glared at his Shiratorizawa players, his face lined with frustration.
"Mistakes! Mistakes! Mistakes!"
"Why are we making so many errors?!"
"Watch your footwork! Track the ball's movement more carefully! We could've prevented that lost point!"
The players hung their heads under his stern gaze.
Yet, beneath his scowl, a flicker of helplessness flashed in Washijo's eyes.
He knew the truth: mistakes were inevitable in a match of this caliber.
A coach's role was to train his players to minimize errors, and Washijo had done exactly that.
Shiratorizawa had performed exceptionally well.
But perfection was impossible.
Their mistakes in this match had been far fewer than in previous games, and that alone was a testament to their skill.
Shiratorizawa had reached this level not because they were weak—far from it.
Their opponents were just too strong.
As the reigning powerhouse of Miyagi Prefecture, Shiratorizawa had crushed every challenger for years.
Every season, they steamrolled through the qualifiers, securing their spot at Nationals with ease.
No matter how much other teams trained and improved, none had ever managed to surpass Shiratorizawa's sheer dominance.
Their strength was undeniable, their place in the top eight at Nationals a consistent achievement.
A team of their caliber would never be considered weak.
Yet now… Karasuno was leading 2-0?
Could it be…
The once-mighty crows had finally taken flight again?