Opening — After-School Storm
The North Sakura High gym’s windows shake with a single serve. Sweat beads on blue mats. Shin Takahara raises his arm for another jump float serve, alone except for a handful who stayed late: Kumi, quiet stats keeper, glaring at her screen; Kota, arms crossed, the ace spiker, leaning on folded nets. ‘Why not work with us?’ Kota asks. Shin’s voice trembles, ‘If I don’t master the serve, I don’t play.’ Kumi sighs. ‘You’re overthinking again, Shinnosuke.’
A Chosen Serve
Summer Inter-High is two weeks off. Scouts coming. Shin knows he could shine, but only if this serve is perfect. Coach Tada’s whistle cuts over the echo. ‘Team! Practice match against East Wind Monday. Sakurai plays the full set.’ Team’s jaws drop. Besides Shin, no one’s seen Sakurai smash five balls in five shots. Silence. Did you pick up how one spirit can shift a court’s feel that fast?
Tensions Rise
Afternoon turns to rain. The serve snaps tight in Shin’s mind all weekend. Kumi texts skills data breakdowns. Coach Tada leaves drilled notes in his locker, small arrows on diagrams. Slam, thud, again: in the park, in his kitchen if Mom’s out. Whose training rituals get strange when pressure kicks in?
Kota starts his ‘let’s run, genius’ tease Monday. ‘Pretty serve’s useless if you choke.’ Shin glances at the wooden floor, hands in fists. Team watches him crack open a can of warm coffee at break. ‘What’s wrong with wanting a clean game?’ he mumbles, nobody answering for a breath.
The Match Day Setup
East Wind walks in like wolves. Shin bows, eyes fixed down until Kota bumps his back — tough love, right? The lineup’s posted. Shin starts. Everyone shuffles shoes, shares an old pep song. Even Kumi comes out of stat-lab to cheer by the window: ‘Bring the storm, Takahara!’ Her words settle in Shin’s mind like a quiet drum.
2nd Set — Hurdles
First serve is over-spun; it sails wild. Twitchy hands, cheers swirl. Next rally is a dig, then Kota’s clean left smash. But Shin keeps tensing on serve — the coach, Kota, everyone knows it. Score: 9-13. Not good. Are slip-ups in games worse when there’s someone you want to impress right there, counting your stats with sharp eyes?
Kumi’s Notes — Inside the Stats Den
After a timeout, Kumi catches Shin in the stairwell. ‘Imagine points erase when you breathe,’ she says, stare like a hawk. Shin frowns, clutching the string on his jersey. ‘Can you really just forget the last mistake?’ he asks.
She shrugs, mouth barely a smile. ‘My old coach called it present sight. Math has short-term memory by default. So must you.’ Heavy thought, right there.
Return — Player’s Fight
Try again. The second set stuck at 15-18. East Wind eyes every lift, ready to pounce. But Shin pictures a page erased, paws the ball, and lifts for his jump float. Murmur on the court. [‘Breathe too much, and you drop it,’ Kota quips. Shin darts him a real grin for the first time all week.] Boundary line. Point lands, chalk dust in the air. Kumi taps stats into her phone — thumbs quivering. Got a string of moves you repeat for comfort?
Momentum — The Third Set
Coach Tada brings Shin’s name up for praise at the start of the third. Kota claps his back. The ace powers a demolition spike that sparks a run, fueled by Shin’s sudden cool on serve. Team’s yelling, ‘Present sight! Present sight!’ when he throws up the ball. They tie it.
Break — Bonds
Timeout huddle. Kota roughs Shin’s hair. ‘You’re less wooden now.’ Even hostile East Wind setter asks, ‘Is this your first main start?’ Shin, cheeks pink, nods. ‘It’s scary! But nice.’ Players laugh, shake off nerves together.
The Final Rally — Unexpected Twist
Scoreboard: 23–24, match point against North Sakura. Shin squints down the gleaming court, remembers Kumi’s words. Coach Tada meets Shin’s gaze: no nod, no doubt. The ball thwacks in his palm, floats up, silence. Do you ever freeze before a big move if the stakes are hit-or-miss?
Serve goes over. But the pass goes too high — way off! Kota leaps. Instead of desperation, he drops the ball up like a setter — trusting Shin. At the attack line, Shin swings. Instead of spiking, he tips. Time stops. Ball falls to empty court. Arena erupts.
Aftermath — Cliffhanger
They win the point. But East Wind jeepers up — demanding a touch called. Ref signals: match point replay. Shin wants to protest, but Kumi just nods, smooth and calm, mouthing, ‘Present.’ Shin breathes out, ready for his next serve. Fade-out as fingers close over the new ball’s smooth leather, tension at its peak.
