Start of Set 4.
Score: 0 - 0.
The whistle blew to start the fourth set.
Nekoma was backed into a corner. One loss, and the summer ended here. The Tokyo Gymnasium felt colder, the air thinner.
Ryuu walked onto the court. The predatory stalking was gone. He walked efficiently, minimizing every step. He stood with his hands on his hips, chest heaving slightly, staring at the scuff marks on the floor.
Across the net, Sakusa noticed the change immediately.
"He's conserving," Sakusa muttered to Iizuna, wiping his hands fastidiously on his jersey. "He's running on fumes."
"Then we make him run," Iizuna replied, eyes narrowing. "If he wants to rest, we force him to work."
Itachiyama Serve.
Iizuna served. He didn't aim for the corners. He aimed a nasty, short floater right at Ryuu's chest—a demand for movement.
Ryuu saw it coming. His tired legs tensed to lunge.
But a shadow slid in front of him.
Kai Nobuyuki.
The Vice-Captain didn't say a word. He just stepped into Ryuu's zone, cutting him off with a fluid, practiced motion. He took the ball on his forearms with a soft, dull thud.
"Nice pass, Kai-san," Ryuu breathed, straightening up without having to dive.
"Kenma!"
Ryuu didn't call for the ball. He ran a lazy approach, just enough to keep the middle blocker honest.
Kenma set to the right. Fukunaga.
Fukunaga hit a quiet, precise straight shot down the line, avoiding the block entirely.
Nekoma 1 - 0.
Fukunaga landed and silently gave a thumbs up to Kai.
Ryuu exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. 'Good. Don't make me fly yet.'
____________
Score: Itachiyama 6 - 5.
Itachiyama tried to ramp up the pace. They wanted to run quick attacks to tire Nekoma out, to break the defensive rhythm.
But Nekoma refused to break formation. They were cats; they landed on their feet.
Rally at 6 - 5.
Iizuna set to Sakusa on the left.
Sakusa jumped. He saw the block was slightly late. He snapped his wrist, hitting a wicked cross shot with heavy, sickening topspin.
It looked like a kill.
But Yaku Morisuke was waiting.
The Libero didn't dive wildly. He took a half-step back, reading the spin. He let the ball come to him.
POP.
He absorbed the heavy spin with his chest and platform, the impact echoing.
"Up!" Yaku shouted. "Kill it, Tora!"
"Counter!"
Kenma set to Yamamoto.
Yamamoto smashed it. Komori dug it.
"Again!"
Iizuna set to the middle. Quick attack.
Kuroo jumped. He didn't try to kill it. He soft-blocked it, tilting his hands back to create a ramp.
TINK.
"One touch!" Kuroo yelled.
Yaku was already under it. "Chance ball!"
The rally went on. And on.
Sakusa spiked. Dig.
Yamamoto spiked. Dig.
Middle quick. One touch.
Sakusa was getting visibly annoyed. He hit a wipe off Kuroo's hand, expecting it to fly out, but Kai was there to cover the deflection before it hit the floor.
"Why won't it drop?" Sakusa hissed, landing heavily.
Finally, Kenma dumped the ball into the deep corner while everyone was scrambling to the front.
Nekoma 6 - 6.
Sakusa glared at the ball bouncing innocently in the corner. He wiped sweat from his forehead aggressively.
"They're sticky," Sakusa muttered, breathless. "Disgusting."
Yaku smirked from the back row, adjusting his kneepads. "Get comfortable, Ace-kun. We're going to be here all day."
___________
Score: Nekoma 12 - 12.
The game had turned into a sludge match. It wasn't flashy. There were no booming aces or super spikes. It was just digging, touching, and scrambling in the mud.
Ryuu was playing a supporting role. He hit occasional pot-shots to keep the blockers honest, but mostly, he was watching his team work.
He looked at Kuroo. The Captain was sweating buckets, jumping on every single play to lead the block, closing gaps that shouldn't be closable.
Itachiyama Attack.
Iizuna set to the right. The Opposite hitter.
Kuroo was there.
'I know you want to hit cross. You're tired of the line.'
Kuroo shifted his hands at the last second.
STUFF.
He shut the lane down completely. The ball slammed back onto the Itachiyama side.
Nekoma 13 - 12.
Kuroo landed and roared, pointing at his team, veins popping in his neck. "NOT IN MY HOUSE!"
He turned to Ryuu, who was leaning on his knees, hands on his hips.
"How's the battery?" Kuroo asked, panting heavily.
Ryuu stood up and stretched his neck.
"50 percent," Ryuu grunted. "Keep buying me time."
"You're high maintenance," Kuroo laughed breathlessly, turning back to the net. "You owe me a steak after this."
"Deal."
___________________
Score: Itachiyama 18 - 17.
The set dragged on. The rallies were getting longer, messier. Itachiyama was technically superior, but Nekoma was dragging them down to their level—a level where technique mattered less than grit.
Iizuna looked tired. Komori looked dusty.
Nekoma served. Iizuna set to Sakusa. Sakusa jumped. He saw Ryuu in the block.
Ryuu wasn't jumping high, but his arms were in the way.
Sakusa tried to tool the block—hit it off the hands to force it out of bounds.
Ryuu reacted. He pulled his hand back. The ball flew past him... sailing toward the sideline.
Sakusa watched it go. 'It's out. I missed the hand.'
But Yaku Morisuke refused to let the whistle blow. The Nekoma Libero didn't care if it might be out. He read the nasty topspin dropping late. He dove. "CONNECT!" Yaku dug the ball inches from the line.
"Nice dig!" Kai called.
The ball popped up high on the Nekoma side.
Kenma set to Fukunaga.
Fukunaga didn't spike hard. He saw the Itachiyama defense was scattered. He hit a high, looping ceiling shot to the deep corner of the Itachiyama court.
It dropped in slow motion. Sakusa hesitated, thinking Komori had it. Komori hesitated, thinking Sakusa had it.
Plop.
The ball hit the floor dead center between them. Nekoma 18 - 18.
Sakusa kicked the net post. "DAMN IT!" The frustration finally cracked the mask. "Communicate!" Sakusa snapped at Komori.
"My bad!" Komori held his hands up, chest heaving. "I thought you were taking the line!"
Ryuu watched them argue from across the net. A small, dry smile crept onto his face.
"They're cracking," Ryuu whispered to Kenma. "The clean machine is rattling."
______
Score: 20 - 20.
Neither team could pull away. It was a suffocating gridlock.
Ryuu rotated to the back row. He was out of the attack for a moment. He took a drink of water during a wipe-down timeout.
Coach Nekomata watched him.
"You look better," Nekomata said.
Ryuu nodded, wiping his face. "Legs are coming back. Lungs aren't burning as much. I can feel my toes again."
"Good," Nekomata said. "Because the shield can only hold for so long. Eventually, we need the spear."
Ryuu looked at the court.
Kuroo was gasping for air after a triple block. Yaku was nursing a bruised elbow from a dive. Kai was dripping sweat, his jersey soaked through.
They were holding the line. Taking the hits. Keeping the game alive so Ryuu could recover.
Ryuu crushed the plastic cup in his hand.
"I know," Ryuu said, his voice low and dangerous.
He walked back onto the court.
He looked at Kuroo.
"Captain," Ryuu said.
Kuroo looked back, sweat stinging his eyes. "Yeah?"
"Two more rotations," Ryuu said. "Hold them for two more rotations. Then give me the ball."
Kuroo grinned. It was a tired, ugly, beautiful grin.
"You got it, partner. Two rotations."
The whistle blew. The score was tied 20-20.
The Shield of Nekoma braced for impact one more time.