Yes!
Shidō Yudai looked into his eyes and nodded.
"That's him!"
"Even Arai and those pro players couldn't return Akira's serve for a while. It's only natural that these high schoolers from Inarizaki can't handle it!"
He slapped his thigh again, his tone tinged with regret.
"Damn it, I didn't expect him to pull that out in this match!"
"And we weren't even there to witness it!!"
"This…"
Kōtarō Hayashi was at a loss for words.
A high schooler had just pulled off a serve that professional players couldn't return.
And the two of them missed seeing it in person!
"Let's just watch the match…"
In the end, the two could only share a helpless glance before turning their eyes back to the court.
—————————
Whoosh!
Atsumu Miya's set had a smooth rhythm to it as it sailed toward Aran Ojiro on the right wing.
As one of the top five aces in the country, Ojiro had already proven his power in earlier matches.
No one dared to underestimate his offense.
But on the other side of the net, Karasuno's front row was already in position.
Bang!
Ojiro's spike slammed directly into Akira's blocking arms—and was shut down.
Screech!
Karasuno scores!
Huffing as he landed, Ojiro glanced at the Karasuno net before lowering his head and walking back to Inarizaki's side.
It wasn't the first time this had happened in the set.
Ever since the start of the second set, the moment Akira stepped up to the Front Row, Ojiro had felt smothered.
No matter where he aimed his spikes, that block was there.
Now, whenever he saw a toss coming his way, it was like a wall appeared in front of his eyes—
A towering wall formed by a relentless barrage.
For the first time, he was truly afraid of a block.
Behind him, Shinsuke Kita said calmly:
"Don't focus on getting blocked."
"You've scored more than you've been stopped."
"…Got it."
Screech!
Just then, the referee's whistle sounded.
Hitoshi Ginjima stood outside the court, holding the number four substitution sign.
Apparently, Coach Kurosu had noticed Ojiro's shaken condition and was sending Ginjima in.
Ojiro turned and saw Coach Omi waving him over.
"Come on, Aran. Take a breather."
"Yes, Coach!"
...
"Captain Kita… Whenever he steps on the court, it's like this quiet, stable force settles in,"
In Inarizaki's bench area, first-year substitute Heisuke Riseki spoke in awe.
"Like a seasoned general leading a battle."
Rintarō Suna, watching Kita's composed figure, said mildly:
"But as far as I know, he only got his first chance to play in an official match after becoming a third-year."
"And that was just a minor tournament."
As the middle blocker, Suna had rotated to the back row and been subbed out for libero Michinari Akagi.
"It seems even if you're strong in junior high, at a powerhouse like Inarizaki, it's still hard to get a spot."
Suna's gaze stayed on Kita as he let out a quiet sigh.
"No, that's not it,"
Ojiro, who had just returned to the bench, suddenly interjected.
"Shinsuke didn't just get left out of the starting lineup in junior high…"
"He didn't even get a uniform."
"What??"
"That kind of guy—Captain Kita—in junior high…?"
Riseki was visibly shocked.
"I always thought someone like him would be the core of any team."
"That's what I thought too," Ojiro nodded.
"I used to think Shinsuke was a robot or something. His routine was absurdly regular, like his life was just one long ritual."
"What struck me the most was something he once said: 'I don't understand why people get nervous.'"
"People only get nervous when trying to do something beyond their usual ability."
"You don't get nervous eating or drinking, right?"
"So volleyball is the same. If you've done it consistently in practice, why would you be nervous in a match?"
"…Ah."
Riseki was stunned silent.
"So that's why Captain Kita always seems so calm?"
"No," Suna said with a bitter smile, eyes still on Kita.
"For him, that level of calm isn't something he has to work for."
"It's just… breathing."
"And that's something only he can do."
...
Thud!
A low dive save from the back row—Shinsuke Kita had stopped the spike.
Inarizaki immediately began organizing a counterattack.
Bang!
Ginjima's spike launched from the right flank—clearing the Karasuno blockers—
But Akira was there, perfectly positioned in the back row to receive it.
Karasuno counterattacked again.
The two teams locked into a fierce exchange, neither willing to yield.
Since Kita had rotated to the front row, the rest of Inarizaki had seemed to awaken.
Their offensive power hadn't noticeably increased, but their defense had taken a leap forward.
Spikes that would've been guaranteed points earlier were now neutralized by Kita's impeccable positioning.
With him and Akagi holding the back line, Inarizaki felt like a fortress.
Like no attack could get through.
But that was only an illusion.
Boom!
Akira launched a back-row attack—his spike smashed straight into Ginjima's arm and ricocheted far out of bounds.
Why!?
Why is it like this!?!
Ginjima stared in disbelief.
Why did every one of Akira's spikes feel different?
Every single time!!
"What's wrong, Akagi-senpai?"
Atsumu Miya couldn't help but ask when he saw Akagi's stunned expression.
"I…"
Akagi opened his mouth, but no words came.
Kita took one look at the situation and immediately turned toward Coach Kurosu.
"Got it!"
Coach Kurosu caught the signal instantly, rose from his seat, and motioned to the referee.
Screech!
"Inarizaki requests a timeout!"