Haikyuu! Reaching New heights

Time was running out.

Two weeks until our match against Chihaya Middle School.

Two weeks to fix our weaknesses.

Two weeks to turn our ragtag team into real competitors.

I wasn't going to waste a single second.

The next day, Matsuda-sensei doubled our training intensity.

Kenji groaned. "Are you serious?! This again?!"

Matsuda-sensei smirked. "You're up against players way above your level. Either get stronger or get crushed."

New Drills:

✔ Quick Attack Training – Because Chihaya's blockers are tall.

✔ Speed & Stamina Work – Because we need to outrun them.

✔ Reading the Opponent – Because Rintaro Seki is too smart.

Izumi panted. "This… is actual torture."

I grinned. "This… is progress."

Matsuda-sensei tossed Kenji a ball. "Alright, try something new. A quick set."

Kenji raised an eyebrow. "Like what that 'King' guy does?"

I nodded. "Yeah. A faster toss. Less height, quicker reaction."

Kenji smirked. "Sounds risky. I like it."

He tossed the ball low and fast.

I sprinted—jumped early.

BAM!

The ball barely cleared the blockers. A perfect quick attack.

Kenji whistled. "Oh damn. That actually worked."

I clenched my fists. "We'll need this against Seki."

Matsuda-sensei nodded. "Then keep drilling it. Until it's second nature."

We had a huge problem—Seki was 6'0".

I was tiny in comparison.

That meant I needed to be smarter, faster, and jump higher.

Matsuda-sensei set up a blocking drill.

He had one of the basketball guys stand in as a blocker.

Every time I jumped, the blocker read my moves.

Blocked. Blocked. BLOCKED.

I growled in frustration.

Kenji muttered, "Damn. It's like hitting a brick wall."

Matsuda-sensei smirked. "Then figure out how to break the wall."

I exhaled.

'Alright. Think.'

Instead of raw power…

Instead of forcing my way through…

I needed to trick the blocker.

Next play—I faked a hard spike.

The blocker jumped early.

At the last second—I soft-tipped the ball past him.

Point.

Kenji blinked. "Oh… that's dirty."

I grinned. "That's strategy."

I stayed after practice.

Alone. Again.

Jump. Land. Jump. Land.

Over. And over.

My legs burned. My breath came in gasps.

But I refused to stop.

'Seki's tall. But that doesn't mean I can't beat him.'

I pushed myself one last time.

JUMP!

For a split second—I felt like I had reached a new height.

I landed, panting.

And I smiled.

'Just wait, Seki. I'm coming for you.'

....

The countdown had begun.

Seven days.

In one week, we would face Chihaya Middle School—a team with a real volleyball program, experienced players, and a captain who was both tall and smart.

If we weren't ready by then, we'd get crushed.

But I wasn't planning on losing.

"Alright, let's run it again," I said, stepping into position.

Kenji sighed. "We've already practiced this like a hundred times."

"Then let's make it a hundred and one."

He tossed a fast, low set—I sprinted forward, jumped early, and swung.

BAM!

The ball barely touched the blockers' hands before slamming into the floor.

Point.

Izumi whistled. "Damn. That's actually getting scary."

Kenji cracked his knuckles. "I won't lie, this is kinda fun."

Matsuda-sensei smirked. "Good. Because you'll need it."

Chihaya's biggest weapon was their captain—Rintaro Seki.

6'0" tall.

Dominant at the net.

Reads plays before they happen.

I was tiny compared to him.

So I had to find a way to beat him without relying on power.

Matsuda-sensei set up a blocking drill again—this time, against our school's tallest basketball player.

Kenji tossed a high set. I jumped, swung—

BLOCKED.

I growled in frustration.

'Damn it. Just hitting harder won't work.'

Kenji called out, "You're gonna have to start thinking mid-air, dude."

I took a deep breath. 'Mid-air control… huh?'

For the next few drills, I forced myself to change my spikes at the last second.

✔ Soft tips instead of power.

✔ Cross-court angles instead of straight shots.

✔ Delaying my swing to throw off timing.

At first?

It was a disaster.

I kept mistiming everything. The ball flew out or got eaten by the net.

Kenji groaned. "This isn't working."

Matsuda-sensei smirked. "Yet."

Izumi tilted his head. "Huh?"

Matsuda-sensei crossed his arms. "This is about breaking old habits. It'll get worse before it gets better."

I clenched my fists.

'Fine. Then I'll just keep pushing through it.'

Three days before the match—

It finally happened.

Kenji tossed a quick set.

I jumped.

Seki—**or, well, our stand-in blocker—**jumped with me.

But this time, I waited.

I watched.

The moment his hands committed to blocking—

I twisted my wrist and sent the ball cross-court.

It barely touched the block and dropped inside the court.

Point.

Kenji's eyes widened. "Oh… oh damn."

Izumi shouted, "Did you just—"

I grinned, heart racing.

'I did it.'

The next two days were a blur of non-stop training.

✔ Refining our quick attacks.

✔ Fixing our defensive rotations.

✔ Preparing strategies for different situations.

By the last night of practice, we were completely exhausted.

Izumi collapsed. "I'm so dead."

Kenji sighed. "This is worse than finals week."

Kōji muttered, "We don't even study for finals…"

I chuckled. They were right.

This was the hardest we had ever trained.

But we had one day left.

One last chance to rest, reset, and prepare.

And then?

It was time to face Chihaya.