Chapter 25: Watching the Match

There were still plenty of people around the school on the weekend. With a game scheduled for today, the area around the gym was especially lively.

Ryosuke looked practically ready to launch himself straight into the gym. If Yunohama hadn’t grabbed the back of his collar in time, he would’ve already flown inside.

Goshiki asked Yunohama curiously,
“So which schools are playing today?”

Yunohama dutifully took on the role of commentator.
“It should be Shiratorizawa University Division versus JAL University.”

“JAL??”
Ryosuke immediately turned around, clearly intrigued. Yunohama calmly reached out and pushed Ryosuke’s face back into place.

“What’s wrong?” Goshiki asked, puzzled.

As they walked, Ryosuke kicked at the small stones by the roadside, his excitement almost spilling out of him.

“JAL is really strong. They’re a classic floor-defense team. The original JAL middle school players were incredible.
They took runner-up at In-jun two years in a row, and after graduating, that whole group went straight to JAL University Division.

“Now that those third-years are gone, JAL middle school isn’t that interesting to watch anymore. And honestly, their results in the last couple of years had some luck involved.
During the Four Greats, Inarizaki’s libero was injured, and in the finals, Fukurodani had food poisoning issues. Still, their overall strength is no joke.”

Anything even remotely related to volleyball, and Ryosuke could talk nonstop.

After rattling off a whole explanation in one breath, he finally paused to catch it.

Yunohama smiled and adjusted his glasses.
“So they really hit the jackpot back then. Sounds like you like JAL a lot?”

Ryosuke glanced up at him.
“Not really. I actually prefer Osaka’s Shinzen High.
Their style is very similar to ours. They’re a long-established powerhouse. If we make it to the Spring Tournament semifinals, there’s a good chance we’ll run into them.”

“Similar style?” Yunohama asked, genuinely puzzled. He hadn’t paid much attention to that school before.

Goshiki eagerly jumped in.
“I know! I know! Their coach has a secret weapon—‘give the ball to that damn ace’!”

Two black lines dropped onto Yunohama’s forehead.
“That’s… incredibly rough. But yeah, it does sound familiar.”

Ryosuke and Goshiki burst out laughing.
“Right? Right? And the name of that ‘move’ is ridiculously long!”

Chatting as they went, the three headed into the gym.

They arrived at just the right time—the first set had just started. Ryosuke leaned over the railing in the stands, eyes fixed on the court.

Goshiki looked around nervously, then tugged at Ryosuke’s sleeve.
“Ryosuke, I see Coach Washijō and the seniors!”

Yunohama and Ryosuke leaned forward in perfect sync and spotted Coach Washijō, Ushijima, and Shirabu.

Ryosuke pulled back with a hint of regret.
Ah… Tendo-senpai isn’t here.

His attention returned to the court.

In the first set, Shiratorizawa University Division was leading 8–5.

Seeing the score gap, Goshiki couldn’t help saying,
“JAL doesn’t look that strong—”

Before he could finish, Yunohama clamped a hand over his mouth.

He should’ve known better. One look at Goshiki earlier should’ve told him this teammate wasn’t exactly sharp. Yunohama really worried himself sick over this kid.

“Lower your voice. The coaches are all down there.”

Goshiki covered his mouth and peeked down again. Not only was Coach Washijō there, but several unfamiliar coaches as well.

Thankful, Goshiki hugged Yunohama tightly. Yunohama immediately pushed him away with one hand.
“Thanks are fine. The hug is unnecessary.”

“Yunohama, you’re such a good person. I’ve decided to forgive you for leaving me behind in the haunted house.”

Yunohama’s forehead twitched. He held it in and didn’t argue.

Ryosuke, meanwhile, explained with interest,
“Middle school to university is a major dividing line. In third year of middle school, you can dominate your peers.
But by university, some people go to better schools, some go overseas. The original lineup gets split apart, and the team basically loses half its strength.”

Yunohama looked at Ryosuke with complicated eyes.
So this kid really isn’t a pure single-celled organism after all.

On the court, Shiratorizawa’s number two stepped up to serve.

A powerful jump serve—but it was cleanly received by the opposing libero.

The pass went up. Four players ran their approach at the same time, leaving only the number seventeen opposite and the libero to cover the backcourt.

The attack came from the number four position. It looked like a full-power spike, but at the last moment, the hitter pulled back slightly and tipped the ball with their fingertips.

A soft, floating shot.

Shiratorizawa’s libero, positioned deep in the backcourt, couldn’t react in time and failed to receive it.

Ryosuke pulled his gaze away, smoothly slipping into commentator mode.
“Even though the score gap looks big early on, this is exactly JAL’s usual style.”

Goshiki stared at Ryosuke, wide-eyed.

Meeting that innocent look, Ryosuke sighed softly.
“JAL usually doesn’t go all out in the first set. They use it to observe their opponent’s habits and identify the key scoring points.
Shiratorizawa’s libero isn’t good at front-court reception. By attacking from multiple directions at once, JAL disrupts the libero’s line of sight, and the setter and middle blockers can even draw away a block or two.”

Yunohama nodded and added,
“Right. And here’s the issue—Shiratorizawa’s blocking isn’t strong. Most of their points come from brute-force spikes, without much strategy.
That makes their entire scoring system easy to read.

“They rely on the libero in the back to stabilize the first pass, then the setter feeds the ace, while the middle blockers and opposite cover the gaps.
But once the libero gets targeted, that whole system stops functioning.”

Goshiki stared at his teammates in shock.

They trained together every day, yet somehow, it felt like they weren’t on the same level at all.

Noticing Goshiki’s gaze, Ryosuke gave him a quick pat on the head.

Goshiki: ??