Haikyuu: Zero To Almighty
Author: IseeBlack
Chapter 470: Final Set
In a best-of-five volleyball match, the first four sets follow the 25-point format. A team must score at least 25 points and lead by 2 to win a set.
This deciding set uses a 15-point format. Once a team reaches 8 points, the teams switch sides and continue in the same rotational order. The first team to reach at least 15 points while maintaining a 2-point lead wins the match.
For one, high school matches typically follow a best-of-three format. And even when they played best-of-five in the Spring Interhigh finals, Aoba Johsai had
let an opponent win two sets.
"15 points. It should end quickly, right?" Kaedehara Taichi's gaze lowered, his expression unreadable.
"Taichi." A voice came from behind—Nitta Asahiro. "How are you holding up? Still okay physically?"
"I'm alright. Another five sets and I might start feeling it," Taichi replied lightly. "
You've been on court much longer than usual—feeling okay?"
"Don't underestimate a pro athlete's stamina. This is nothing," Nitta said confidently.
Taichi's eyes drifted to the side, landing on Kitajima Kippei.
"What?" Kitajima looked over warily. "If I were five years younger, I'd still be going strong."
"Aren't you two years younger than me?" Kubo Wataru remarked from the side while adjusting his kneepads.
Kitajima: "…"
"Try not to drag the kids down in the final set."
"Obviously," Kitajima nodded seriously.
-----
Sakusa Kiyoomi tugged off his headband, flinging droplets of sweat in every direction.
"By the way, don't you think it's kind of weird?" Inunaki Shion mumbled as he chewed an energy gel, his words slightly muffled. "Sakusa usually seems
OCD, right? So why isn't he like that when he plays volleyball?"
"Huh?"
Now that he mentioned it, it
strange. Sakusa Kiyoomi normally wore a mask, rarely got close to people, and sanitized both his locker and dorm entrance daily…
But during volleyball games, he couldn't possibly wear a mask due to the intensity of movement. He frequently made physical contact with teammates at the net, and volleyballs were dirty—not to mention he occasionally dove to save them…
Thinking about it like that—it
Sakusa ignored the glances being tossed his way. He simply calmed his breathing in silence while pressing an ice pack to his muscles.
"Omi-chan, are you actually just a
after all?" Bokuto Kōtarō suddenly crouched in front of Sakusa's face.
—!
Inunaki Shion grinned with satisfaction.
The rest of the team pretended to mind their own business, but their eyes kept stealing glances in the duo's direction.
"Idiot. You're only just realizing that guy's weird?" Miya Atsumu said with a tired expression. "And you've got no right to call anyone else weird, y'know."
"Atsumu."
"Hm?"
"You missed the perfect timing for a snarky comeback. Also, you're talking way too quietly," said Adriah Thomas, who for some reason had recently taken an interest in studying the art of "quipping."
"I
!" Miya Atsumu shouted in frustration. "But hey, I'm
the
here!"
"Good job!" Adriah Thomas gave him a thumbs-up. "That was a beautiful reaction!"
Miya Atsumu: "…"
On the other side, Sakusa Kiyoomi calmly placed one hand on Bokuto Kōtarō's face and shoved him away.
"I told you not to get so close to me," Sakusa said coldly. "Who knows how many viruses are crawling on a careless guy like you."
"For real?!" Bokuto gasped in horror, looking himself over. "Where?!"
Sakusa: "…"
Inunaki Shion muttered, "Seriously, Bokuto, you really should've gone to college."
The truth was, when it came to Sakusa Kiyoomi's
versus
, most people misunderstood the cause-and-effect relationship entirely. They had gotten so used to labelling "germophobia" as a defining trait of this ace spiker, that they couldn't help but question how someone like him could even tolerate the intense physical contact of a volleyball match.
But in reality, Sakusa Kiyoomi's obsessive self-discipline—his behaviour often mistaken as "germophobia"—existed
of volleyball.
It wasn't strange that he played volleyball despite his habits. Rather,
This was Sakusa Kiyoomi's personal standard
---
Meian Shūgo hadn't taken part in the team's usual banter. He sat quietly on the bench, his index finger tapping rhythmically against the wood as Kaedehara Taichi's gleaming eyes kept flashing through his mind.
The Black Jackals had taken the fourth set in a swift 25–18 win—a blow that hit DH like a stinging slap to the face.
his was nothing more than the calm before the storm.
"Shūgo," Oliver Barnes handed him a water bottle, his voice low, "you're uneasy too, huh?"
Oliver Barnes knew Meian Shūgo
well. He recognized the way Shūgo unconsciously tapped his fingers when anxious. He knew that this silent focus only ever surfaced when they were staring down a
threat.
Meian took a long swig of sports drink, his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes swept across the court—right toward DH's Kaedehara Taichi.
"Barnes," he muttered, "how do you think that brat compares to Akutsu?"
"Just going off performance, it's hard to say." Barnes sat down beside him. "But if we factor in age, that kid's a
bigger threat."
"Is that so?" Meian whispered. "Because I think even
his performance already puts him ahead of Akutsu…"
What unsettled Meian more than anything was the third set
Tachi's spiking height and ball speed kept rising, and as the match wore on, his shot selection grew sharper and sharper.
The referee's whistle cut through Meikura's thoughts.
"Let's go!"
The captains' voices rang out, mingled with the screech of sneakers on polished wood as both teams stepped onto the court.
.
.
.
.
The Black Jackals had returned to their starting formation. Now that they'd seen the offensive prowess of the other DH players, they couldn't afford to focus solely on defending against Kaedehara.
Kitajima Kippei was back in the front row, Nitta Asahiro had rotated to the back, and libero Kubo Wataru had taken the court again as usual.
But none of that was the real headline.
The real change
—the match would begin with his power serve.
The whistle blew.
The final set had begun.
This deciding set uses a 15-point format. Once a team reaches 8 points, the teams switch sides and continue in the same rotational order. The first team to reach at least 15 points while maintaining a 2-point lead wins the match.
For one, high school matches typically follow a best-of-three format. And even when they played best-of-five in the Spring Interhigh finals, Aoba Johsai had
let an opponent win two sets.
"15 points. It should end quickly, right?" Kaedehara Taichi's gaze lowered, his expression unreadable.
"Taichi." A voice came from behind—Nitta Asahiro. "How are you holding up? Still okay physically?"
"I'm alright. Another five sets and I might start feeling it," Taichi replied lightly. "
You've been on court much longer than usual—feeling okay?"
"Don't underestimate a pro athlete's stamina. This is nothing," Nitta said confidently.
Taichi's eyes drifted to the side, landing on Kitajima Kippei.
"What?" Kitajima looked over warily. "If I were five years younger, I'd still be going strong."
"Aren't you two years younger than me?" Kubo Wataru remarked from the side while adjusting his kneepads.
Kitajima: "…"
"Try not to drag the kids down in the final set."
"Obviously," Kitajima nodded seriously.
-----
Sakusa Kiyoomi tugged off his headband, flinging droplets of sweat in every direction.
"By the way, don't you think it's kind of weird?" Inunaki Shion mumbled as he chewed an energy gel, his words slightly muffled. "Sakusa usually seems
OCD, right? So why isn't he like that when he plays volleyball?"
"Huh?"
Now that he mentioned it, it
strange. Sakusa Kiyoomi normally wore a mask, rarely got close to people, and sanitized both his locker and dorm entrance daily…
But during volleyball games, he couldn't possibly wear a mask due to the intensity of movement. He frequently made physical contact with teammates at the net, and volleyballs were dirty—not to mention he occasionally dove to save them…
Thinking about it like that—it
Sakusa ignored the glances being tossed his way. He simply calmed his breathing in silence while pressing an ice pack to his muscles.
"Omi-chan, are you actually just a
after all?" Bokuto Kōtarō suddenly crouched in front of Sakusa's face.
—!
Inunaki Shion grinned with satisfaction.
The rest of the team pretended to mind their own business, but their eyes kept stealing glances in the duo's direction.
"Idiot. You're only just realizing that guy's weird?" Miya Atsumu said with a tired expression. "And you've got no right to call anyone else weird, y'know."
"Atsumu."
"Hm?"
"You missed the perfect timing for a snarky comeback. Also, you're talking way too quietly," said Adriah Thomas, who for some reason had recently taken an interest in studying the art of "quipping."
"I
!" Miya Atsumu shouted in frustration. "But hey, I'm
the
here!"
"Good job!" Adriah Thomas gave him a thumbs-up. "That was a beautiful reaction!"
Miya Atsumu: "…"
On the other side, Sakusa Kiyoomi calmly placed one hand on Bokuto Kōtarō's face and shoved him away.
"I told you not to get so close to me," Sakusa said coldly. "Who knows how many viruses are crawling on a careless guy like you."
"For real?!" Bokuto gasped in horror, looking himself over. "Where?!"
Sakusa: "…"
Inunaki Shion muttered, "Seriously, Bokuto, you really should've gone to college."
The truth was, when it came to Sakusa Kiyoomi's
versus
, most people misunderstood the cause-and-effect relationship entirely. They had gotten so used to labelling "germophobia" as a defining trait of this ace spiker, that they couldn't help but question how someone like him could even tolerate the intense physical contact of a volleyball match.
But in reality, Sakusa Kiyoomi's obsessive self-discipline—his behaviour often mistaken as "germophobia"—existed
of volleyball.
It wasn't strange that he played volleyball despite his habits. Rather,
This was Sakusa Kiyoomi's personal standard
---
Meian Shūgo hadn't taken part in the team's usual banter. He sat quietly on the bench, his index finger tapping rhythmically against the wood as Kaedehara Taichi's gleaming eyes kept flashing through his mind.
The Black Jackals had taken the fourth set in a swift 25–18 win—a blow that hit DH like a stinging slap to the face.
his was nothing more than the calm before the storm.
"Shūgo," Oliver Barnes handed him a water bottle, his voice low, "you're uneasy too, huh?"
Oliver Barnes knew Meian Shūgo
well. He recognized the way Shūgo unconsciously tapped his fingers when anxious. He knew that this silent focus only ever surfaced when they were staring down a
threat.
Meian took a long swig of sports drink, his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes swept across the court—right toward DH's Kaedehara Taichi.
"Barnes," he muttered, "how do you think that brat compares to Akutsu?"
"Just going off performance, it's hard to say." Barnes sat down beside him. "But if we factor in age, that kid's a
bigger threat."
"Is that so?" Meian whispered. "Because I think even
his performance already puts him ahead of Akutsu…"
What unsettled Meian more than anything was the third set
Tachi's spiking height and ball speed kept rising, and as the match wore on, his shot selection grew sharper and sharper.
The referee's whistle cut through Meikura's thoughts.
"Let's go!"
The captains' voices rang out, mingled with the screech of sneakers on polished wood as both teams stepped onto the court.
.
.
.
.
The Black Jackals had returned to their starting formation. Now that they'd seen the offensive prowess of the other DH players, they couldn't afford to focus solely on defending against Kaedehara.
Kitajima Kippei was back in the front row, Nitta Asahiro had rotated to the back, and libero Kubo Wataru had taken the court again as usual.
But none of that was the real headline.
The real change
—the match would begin with his power serve.
The whistle blew.
The final set had begun.