The gym felt different on match day.
Noise pressed in from every direction. Shoes squeaked louder. Voices echoed sharper. The court no longer belonged only to Minamiyama High.
Kazuki stood near the sideline, rolling the ball between his palms as he watched their opponents warm up.
Shiramine High moved with confidence.Their setter commanded attention effortlessly. Their ace hit with a relaxed cruelty, every swing controlled and deliberate. Communication flowed naturally between them, quiet but efficient.
'They're experienced.'
Coach Aoyama's voice cut through the atmosphere. "Focus on fundamentals. Don't chase momentum. Build it."
Kazuki nodded once.
The whistle blew.
First set.
The opening rally went long. Minamiyama held their ground well. Hajime dug cleanly. Ren distributed smartly. Kazuki approached with controlled restraint.
The spike scored.
Point.
Cheers erupted from their side.The second rally ended quickly.A sharp serve tore through their formation. Hajime barely touched it.
Point for Shiramine.
The setter on the other side smiled faintly.
'Serve pressure.'
As the set progressed, cracks appeared.
Kazuki scored consistently, yet every point felt earned. Shiramine adapted quickly. Blocks tightened. Receives targeted weaker seams. Rallies stretched longer, demanding precision instead of raw instinct.
A broken play emerged midway through the set.Ren chased a deflection, barely saving the ball. Kazuki slid into position instinctively.
Hands raised.
Set.
Keigo crushed it.
The crowd reacted.
Coach Aoyama didn't smile.
"Emergency solutions won't win matches," he muttered.
Shiramine adjusted immediately.Their next serve targeted Kazuki directly.The receive came high, too close to the net.
Ren rushed.
The timing broke.
Kazuki jumped late.
The spike clipped the block and flew out.
Point lost.
Kazuki landed, jaw tightening.
'I forced it.'
The opposing ace rotated to the front.He jumped high, delayed his swing, and smashed the ball clean past the block.
Hajime dove too late.
Shiramine pulled ahead.
Coach Aoyama called a timeout.
Players gathered quickly, breathing hard.
"They're not faster," Coach Aoyama said calmly. "They're calmer. Stop reacting. Start choosing."
Ren clenched his fists. "They're reading me."
"They're reading everyone" Coach Aoyama corrected. "That happens when rhythm gets predictable."
His eyes shifted to Kazuki.
"Kazuki," he said. "Don't carry it."
Kazuki nodded.
'I'm trying not to.'
Play resumed.
Kazuki dialed back his aggression, focusing on placement. His next spike rolled off the block and landed clean.
Point.
Momentum flickered, then it shattered.
A miscommunication on defense opened space. Shiramine exploited it instantly. Their setter ran a perfect combination play, freezing blockers.
Point after point slipped away.
The first set ended 25–21.
Minamiyama lost.
Second set.
Kazuki felt it immediately.Pressure pressed heavier on his chest. Teammates glanced his way unconsciously. Expectations formed without words.
'They want me to fix it.'
The set started poorly.A service error, a mistimed approach, a late block.
Kazuki scored twice in quick succession, forcing Shiramine to adjust again. Their blockers began shading toward him more aggressively.
Space opened elsewhere. Ren hesitated. Opportunity passed.
Coach Aoyama's whistle shrilled.
"Ren, trust your hitters," he snapped. "Kazuki isn't the only one here."
Ren swallowed and nodded.Ryuusei rotated in.He attacked fiercely, scoring through sheer force.
The bench erupted.
Hope stirred.
Then Shiramine's ace stepped up to serve.
His float serve dipped sharply.Hajime overpassed.The ball hovered dangerously close to the net.Kazuki reacted instantly, hands rising.
Set.
Too tight.
The opposing middle blocker stuffed the attack straight down.
Point lost.
Kazuki exhaled sharply.
'My mistake.'
Shiramine smelled blood.They accelerated.
Fast sets. Sharp serves. Ruthless efficiency.
Minamiyama scrambled to keep up.
Kazuki chased every ball, adjusted every step, read every approach.
Still, it wasn't enough.
A final rally ended with Kazuki blocked cleanly.
The whistle blew.
25–19.
Match over.Silence followed.Players stood frozen for a moment before bowing.
Hands shook across the net.
Shiramine's ace met Kazuki's eyes. "You're strong," he said simply. "Still rushed."
Kazuki nodded.
After the gym cleared, Minamiyama sat quietly along the wall. Sweat cooled on skin.Breathing steadied slowly.
No one spoke.
Coach Aoyama finally broke the silence.
"Losses show structure," he said. "Wins hide it."
His gaze settled on Kazuki again. "You tried to control too much."
Kazuki lowered his head. "I thought-"
"Thinking isn't the problem," Coach Aoyama interrupted. "Trust is."
Ren spoke quietly. "I relied on him too much."
Keigo shook his head. "We all did."
Ryuusei punched the floor lightly. "I hate losing."
Coach Aoyama nodded. "Good. Remember it."
Kazuki sat apart that night, system interface hovering silently.
No notifications appeared.
No stat increases.
No rewards.
Only stillness.
'So this is it.'
Images replayed endlessly. The mistimed set, the late block, the moment he forced the play.
'I wasn't beaten by strength.'
'I was beaten by composure.'
Kazuki clenched his fist slowly.The loss burned not as pain as clarity.
This wasn't practice.
This wasn't theory.
This was volleyball.
And he wasn't complete yet.