Chapter Text
Japan V.League Grand Finals
EJP Raijin vs. MSBY Black Jackals
Set 5: 11-13
If Atsumu was asked to describe EJP Raijin in one word, "fast" wouldn't have even been in his first 10 words despite the team's namesake. It was absurd to think that a team could even be faster than Shoyo, but this was a different kind of speed, he supposed.
This was a speed that strangled every player on both sides of the court, but it seemed like EJP had trained themselves to take steady and shallow breaths while everyone on MSBY was left gasping and heaving as they pushed themselves to meet the tempo set by their opponents.
It was mainly that damn libero's fault- Komori Motoya. Though Atsumu suspected that the actual mastermind was the player standing right in front of the cheery libero. Komori didn't seem like the sadistic type to think of pushing this relentless tempo, but Suna Rintarou absolutely was.
It didn't seem to matter that Inunaki and Hinata's digs and receives were nice and high in the air because for every millisecond they gained to breathe, Komori Motoya stole 2 more away from them once the ball was in EJP's court.
If MSBY hit the ball over and it didn't score, then Komori was picking it up, and he was dead set on doing whatever the opposite of a "nice and high" first touch was. The bastard was barely bumping the ball at all. It was practically flying into the EJP setter's hands in an annoyingly efficient and straight path as they set up for a quick attack.
Again and again and again.
This was a deranged strategy to bring out in the final set.
It was also a brilliant one against their team. Shoyo was the only one managing to keep up, and Atsumu knew he was relying on the orange-haired opposite hitter too much. Seven of his last ten sets must've gone to him, but it was because Shoyo was always jumping, ready to be either a decoy or a hitter. As the set dragged on though, it was starting to feel like he was the only one jumping on their team.
EJP Raijin had practically managed to narrow the game down from a 6v6 to a 2v6.
Atsumu was starting to understand how EJP had pulled off that win versus the Schweiden Adlers much earlier in the playoffs bracket. It wasn't exactly an upset of course- every team in Division 1 was strong, and EJP was no exception.
Still, the combined strength of Ushijima, Kageyama, and Hoshiumi was undeniable, and that was only half of the players on that side of the court. They had been the favorites that had dominated all of the regular season, so the Adlers losing their first match of the playoffs had been a shock to everyone.
It must have taken some clever anti-strategy for EJP to not only win, but to take it in only 4 sets. Atsumu made a mental note to rewatch the video for that match and figure out what devious ideas Sunarin had conjured up specifically to counter the Adlers.
That would have to wait for after MSBY won this match though, of course.
Despite EJP's best efforts, Shoyo managed to deflect a shot off of the EJP opposite hitter's hands. It flew to the side. Komori dove after it. The ball dropped out of bounds. The whistle blew, and the point was given to MSBY.
11-14. One more point to go.
They rotated. Kiyoomi was still to his left, but Adriah had moved behind him now and was getting ready to serve. Even when they used all 8 seconds of their time before serving, it didn't really feel like they had a chance to catch their breath. The ball soared over the net. Atsumu heard the shuffling of volleyball shoes behind him as Adriah stepped off the court and Inunaki came in for the rally.
Most of the rally was honestly a blur, but the very last bit of it would be burned into Atsumu's brain for forever. It went exactly like this:
He staggered a bit just as he jumped for a block, but all that mattered was that he had jumped in time. The ball bounced cleanly off his hands, flying high into the air as Inunaki moved to bump it. In the very next moment, Atsumu crashed right into Kiyoomi. Their shoulders collided as they dropped from their two person block, and they both landed onto the court.
He tried to gasp out an apology as they scrambled to their feet, but there was no time. Inunaki had bumped the ball extremely high, but it was already coming back down towards Atsumu for him to set.
Shoyo wasn't an option this time. He was a little too early in his approach to be anything other than a decoy unless they wanted to hit a recycle and go again, but Atsumu didn't think he was going to survive if the rally went on any longer. They needed to score off of this right now. He tried to find Meian on the court, but his field of vision was narrowing.
He was running out of time. The ball was about to hit his hands. Should he just dump it? EJP had to be expecting that based on how messy MSBY's positioning was at the moment. He didn't have any other options though-
"Miya."
Kiyoomi's voice was rough and breathless, a barely audible rasp over the roar of the crowd. Still, it cut through Atsumu's thoughts, and pure instinct took over every calculation that his brain was making.
He stopped thinking, and he set the ball just a few centimeters to his left. The ball barely even left his hand before Kiyoomi was hitting it over the net.
It wasn't optimal. They were still next to each other from the messy block they did together, so there was barely any spin or power to the hit.
Somehow, it was perfect.
The ball hit Suna's hand, lost all momentum, and waterfalled down between the net and the EJP middle blocker's body.
11-15.
It was the first set of the match to not go into a deuce, and Atsumu thanked every god he could possibly think of at that moment. There weren't very many, given that his brain was probably fried alongside the rest of his muscles at this point, but he thanked the ones he could think of anyways before he focused most of his effort into not collapsing on the spot. The world narrowed down to his body, but he couldn't ignore the person beside him.
Kiyoomi was trembling. Atsumu prayed that it was just from the exertion of the absolutely brutal 5 set match that they had just played, but his brain couldn't shake the memory of their shoulders crashing together. He knew that the other boy must have felt the burning of their overheating bodies pressed together even through their jerseys and Kiyoomi's compression sleeves.
Even with his brain halfway to shutting down, Atsumu knew that Kiyoomi hated being touched. The fact came to him easier than breathing.
That's why Omi's shaky, gasping breaths made Atsumu's blood run cold.