In the coach's dugout, Saito looked slightly embarrassed.
Yamagata Hayato's words just now had unsettled him.
"It's okay..."
"I don't bla them. I think I understand what's going on."
"Huh?" Saito turned to Washijo-sensei, surprised.
"You an... it wasn't their mistake?"
Washijo shook his head and said, "A single player failing to receive it could be a mistake. But three players have picked up the sa ball multiple tis. If they're managing to receive it so of the ti, how can this still be called a mistake?"
"The problem isn't with them... it's with that Number 7 player."
He folded his arms. "I'll ask them about it when we get a technical tiout."
The exchange outside the court didn't interrupt the ga's flow, and Yamagata was still moving in and out of plays.
As Karasuno's attacks kept succeeding, the tension among Shiratorizawa's players steadily grew.
Ushijima Wakatoshi was still scoring, but each point felt harder to achieve.
Unlike Akira's unpredictable spikes, Ushijima's sheer offensive power allowed him to keep racking up points. However, every point now required imnse effort.
If he spiked along the trajectory the blockers set for him, the back-row defense was waiting to pick it up. So, he had to take risks—breaking through the block or avoiding Akira's positioning—to increase his scoring chances.
With rotations in play, Tanaka Ryuunosuke had now moved to the front row.
Bang!
"Agh!"
After managing to block Ushijima's spike, Tanaka stared at his hands in disbelief.
"What the—?"
Shocked, he looked at Ushijima's back on the other side of the net.
"His spikes... they feel even heavier than before!"
"A slow starter," Kageyama Tobio muttered nearby. "He's finally getting ward up."
But they weren't the only ones feeling the shift. Ushijima himself was experiencing sothing different.
From the beginning of the match, the space left for him to attack had been getting narrower and narrower.
Karasuno's Number 7—Akira—was constantly shrinking his offensive range.
The gradually compressed court space made Ushijima feel sothing unfamiliar.
Pressure.
That's why he had chosen to break through the block earlier.
But now, even when avoiding the blockers, a strange sensation crept in.
Danger.
A warning sign flared in his instincts.
I'm about to be stopped.
Yet, he couldn't understand why.
Even under this psychological burden, Ushijima still maintained incredible efficiency.
That alone was proof of his status as Shiratorizawa's ace.
Bang!
Another powerful spike!
"Touch!"
Tanaka turned around, shouting as the ball was deflected.
A chance ball!
Nishinoya Yuu scrambled to get under it, sending it perfectly into position.
Kageyama was already moving!
Jump!
Brush!
"Right-side attack!"
A clean back set sent the ball to Akira.
"Cross-court!"
The cross-court shot was blocked, but Akira was calm.
With no hesitation, he went for the line shot.
Yamagata, positioned behind the blockers, was already reading the attack.
But a familiar dread washed over him.
"Is this... left-handed? Or right-handed?"
Every reception against Akira was ntal torture.
Each ti, he had to make a split-second guess.
If he predicted correctly, he could receive the ball.
If he guessed wrong, it would ricochet uncontrollably.
"Left-handed!"
"Last ti was right-handed, so this ti it should be left-handed!"
Yamagata's mind raced.
In truth, he was only reassuring himself.
Akira's spin direction had no pattern.
Raising his left arm slightly, he positioned himself to receive the ball with his right—
Bang!
A dull thud!
"Damn!"
His heart dropped.
This ti, it wasn't side-spin!
Just a standard topspin ball!
The ball deflected sharply to the right side of the court!
"Save it!"
Oohira Reon sprinted towards it!
Dive!
Slap!
Though he barely managed to keep it in play, the ball's height was too low for anyone to follow up.
It hit the ground.
Tweet!
The whistle rang out.
Karasuno 16-13 Shiratorizawa.
Second technical tiout.
"We're doing well so far!" Ukai Keishin said firmly, gathering his team.
"But compared to Shiratorizawa, we lack experience in high-pressure matches."
He glanced at his players. "Don't get cocky. The deeper this match goes, the stronger they'll get."
"Yes!"
On Shiratorizawa's side, the mood was far from relaxed.
Washijo-sensei stood in the center of his players, scanning them one by one.
"We don't have ti. Tell about that last play. Why couldn't you receive it?"
A mont of silence.
Finally, Goshiki Tsutomu spoke up.
"That Number 7—he can change the ball's spin direction!"
"One mont it's left-handed, the next it's right-handed!"
"If we don't judge it correctly, the ball just bounces off uncontrollably."
"Left-handed? Right-handed?"
Washijo frowned.
Looking around, he saw the others nodding in agreent.
Recalling Yamagata's earlier struggles, his frown deepened.
Now wasn't the ti to dwell on how Akira executed those shots.
They needed a solution.
Fast.
He thought hard, but as the tiout ticked down, no clear answer ca.
Yet, as an experienced coach, he knew he had to give them sothing.
Even if it wasn't a perfect solution.
"If you can't judge the spin, then send the ball upwards!"
"Make it go as high as possible!"
"That way, the sideways force will be reduced, and others will have ti to react!"
His gaze shifted to Shirabu Kenjirou.
"Shirabu, you'll have to run more."
Shirabu paled.
If the first touch was farther from the net, the setter would have to cover a greater distance, wearing them down faster.
"If you really can't keep up, swap with Semi."
"Understood!"
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