The trash-talking battle was more than just words, it drew the opponents' attention, forcing them to focus on Ichinose Guren, and when the backcourt reached a stalemate, he unleashed the "Ace's Call," adding pressure to both opposing blockers.
Everyone expected Ichinose to use his powerful vertical leap to spike over the blockers' heads. The opposing blockers, noticing this, prepared to jump with full force to stop it.
But with a clever fast-then-slow approach in his running step, Ichinose easily shook all three blockers mid-air, leaving an undefended area behind. A light, effortless strike sent the ball to Yukigaoka's scoreboard, accompanied by his killer trash talk: "Raise your hands, don't jump recklessly."
With this, Yukigaoka fired their first shot in the trash-talk duel.
What? Didn't the previous round of exchanges count? No, that was just a rehearsal.
The three Kousen players steadied their breathing. Number seven middle blocker patted the other two on the back, offering reassurance:
"It's okay. The next one, we can block. No matter how high he jumps, it's not like he spikes beyond our reach. Even fingertips are weapons, we can stop him."
"I don't care if we can block him or not. I just can't stand that arrogant face of his," the first middle blocker snarled, sounding like a cornered dog.
"Isn't it just a timing difference? Anyone can do that," the other middle blocker scratched his head.
"Senior, it wasn't just timing. The first pass was a high ball, not a fast attack. We got distracted by his presence and only watched him," the other explained.
"That's right. I've only seen that move from top professional women's teams. With the right speed of the set, fast or slow, the attacker can change foot rhythm to decide between diagonal, straight, power spike, drop shot, or fake to trick blockers."
Number seven's expression grew serious. He first nodded at his teammate, then added:
"That guy is probably more than just the strong, high-jumping, fast-killing type we saw in the videos."
He glanced across the net. Ichinose, fresh from taunting, seemed to enjoy provoking them, making number seven clench his teeth, but he refocused.
"His skills and fundamentals are top-class in Junior High. Even entering high school now, he could immediately become a top national attacker. Within three years, he'll be among the top five in the country."
Number one at Kousen grew impatient. "What's with all the praise? Cut it out."
Number seven's face fell. Number one instantly lost his argument, muttering softly. Accustomed to his slightly bratty aura, number seven ignored him.
He continued:
"But no matter how strong he is, it's still just one person. Volleyball isn't a one-man sport. Even a professional, facing us, scores one point at a time."
"Volleyball is never a one-person game. If one can't cover, then two; if two can't, then three; four… until the whole team defends together."
"Then, we three block one line, while the backcourt covers the others. The most effective is to shut down diagonals, leaving him only limited straight options. Backcourt sees clearly, receives comfortably."
"If time's too short to block the diagonal, block the straight line. Three of us will handle the diagonals anyway. Bottom line: never let him spike freely!"
"Six people are always greater than one. When he hits, it's him versus all six of us, that's when he fails!"
Number seven's logical, clear-headed explanation outlined how to limit Ichinose.
But once Kousen decided to treat him as the biggest threat and counter him with the entire team, Ichinose's fight wasn't just one-man anymore. Ignored, he would spike brutally; watched, he'd bait and lure them.
It was an open strategy, every team could only react.
Yukigaoka 2:1 Kousen Academy.
Serve changed hands. Now it was Yukigaoka's turn. Mori, the setter at position one, prepared to serve.
"Keep your eyes on him! Focus before receiving!"
Number seven grabbed the command from the captain, using rational thinking to direct teammates. Unlike morale-boosted yelling, the team now needed calm judgment.
Mori held the ball, calmly observing the opponents.
Backcourt libero rotated out, replaced by the front-row middle blocker. The opponent's backcourt has a receiver, a setter, and a third-year middle.
Target the setter and middle. Once the setter receives, he can't assist. The third-year middle, still inexperienced, will likely disrupt the first pass if touched.
Mhm! Aim there!
Mori's serve hadn't reached jump-serve level; standing serve was his tool to manipulate the formation.
He tossed lightly, spinning the ball slightly, drawing all opponents' eyes.
This spin… could it be…!
Yes!
Ichinose and the opposing middle blocker communicated silently through their eyes.
At the ball's apex, Mori struck with a standing serve, a floating ball with drastic trajectory change. At the moment of contact, his wrist flicked downward, sending a descending floating ball.
"Damn it!"
Nagamatsu's center of gravity was too high; his steps couldn't adjust to the floating trajectory. He dove forward, arms extended, just managing to reach the ball.
As he prepared to receive, the ball shifted in mid-air, hitting the outside of his arm, not the inside palm he expected.
Due to the small contact area, his arm bent slightly under force, delaying the drop just a fraction.
But it wasn't enough. Mori's set had no slack. The ball lightly hit the ground, bounced twice, then rolled slowly.
Turning his head, Nagamatsu's eyes burned with frustration, meeting Mori's impassive gaze.
Between the two third-year players and a first-year, a new battle of wits and skill ignited.
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