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Spring High – Final Prefectural Qualifier – Girls’ Finals
Right after the end of the first set
From the perspective of Himesaki High
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“You all did great. We’ve taken the first set. That’s a good start.”
Though Coach Akai of Himesaki praised her students with her words, her expression remained stern.
Throughout her long coaching career, she had seen countless matches where the team that lost the first set made a comeback to win—and vice versa. Especially in a best-of-five match like this one, they had only secured one-third of the sets needed to win.
There was no need to smile yet—not until they had taken all three sets.
“Everyone. We managed to keep things under control in the first set, but our opponents are Matsubara Girls’ High—the team that scored 50 points against us across two sets back in June. They’re much stronger than they were then. Just because the first set went well doesn’t mean we can afford to let our guard down.”
It was the team captain, Nishimura, who cautioned her teammates, who were starting to get carried away by the more favorable match progression than they had anticipated before the game.
This was her first year wearing the Himesaki jersey as a third-year student. In terms of high school volleyball experience, she seemed to be on equal footing with the players from Matsubara Girls’.
But that wasn’t quite the case.
Even as a middle schooler, she had enough ability to pass the selection test to join the Himesaki girls’ volleyball club. And it wasn’t as though she had slacked off during her first and second years—she had been honing her skills amidst constant, fierce competition for a spot on the regular team.
“She’s right,” Coach Akai followed up. “They’re a lot stronger than they were in June. If we let up, they’ll rack up points in no time.”
Why, then, had they managed to widen the gap even more than in June, despite Matsubara having improved since then?
The difference lay in the amount of information available beforehand and the time they’d had to prepare.
Last time, they’d only had a week—and the information they’d gathered wasn’t complete. They still came up with a strategy, but it wasn’t enough.
So how about this time?
Indeed, the opponent had grown stronger.
But ever since that match in June, Himesaki had been continuously practicing to strengthen their defense against powerful spikes. At times, they even received spikes from male players—an intense and risky training method that, if mishandled, might’ve led to the wrong mindset: that it’s normal not to be able to receive a strong spike.
But the training had paid off.
During the match, not a single Himesaki player flinched at Matsubara’s powerful spikes. They faced the ball head-on, and if they couldn’t get it, they immediately shifted focus to the next play.
If the training had been just a bit tougher, they might have gotten used to letting balls drop and begun giving up too easily. If it had been a bit softer, they might’ve become too afraid of the spikes to even go for the ball.
It was a delicate balance—but one that had worked.
The five months they’d spent training had not been in vain.
“I get why everyone keeps watching that Tachibana younger sister, number 6, but don’t let your guard down—Matsubara has other strong spikers too. Especially Murai, number 3. If there’s anything less than a 1.5-person block, she’ll go right through the gap.”
“Yeah. Back in June we could shut her down completely, but now even a two-person block might not be enough.”
This warning came from Himesaki’s two middle blockers, Tanabe and Henmi—both second-years, yet already receiving offers from universities and corporate teams.
That same number 3, Murai, was being treated as a real threat. So the countermeasure—
“Then how about we let her hit cleanly instead? Sure, she’s strong for a girl, but her spikes aren’t faster than the ones we faced from the boys in practice. Since she spikes from the center, we block either the turn or the cross and let the receivers handle the rest. It’s better than her tipping the ball off our blockers' fingers for a point.”
“That’s assuming we can actually receive her spike. Can we?”
“It’s not a matter of ‘can.’ We will.”
The one declaring she’d receive Murai’s spike was the libero, Kunugida.
“Alright then. We’ll go with Yuri Kunugida’s plan. Yuri, I’ll be counting on you, since it was your idea.”
“Leave it to me, Captain.”
“Coach, what do you think they’ll do in the second set?”
“I don’t think they’ll stick to the same approach as the first set without any changes. If their plan is to feed the ball to number 6, the Tachibana sister, that would actually work in our favor.”
Focusing their offense on number 6 might seem like a good idea.
In fact, Tachibana’s spikes were powerful.
But Matsubara Girls’ wasn’t a team that revolved around a single ace getting all the sets.
So what would happen if such a team suddenly tried to play in a way they weren’t used to?
Sure, they might score some points—but it wouldn’t lead to the kind of momentum that swung a match.
Besides, that approach would leave their two setters—who had struggled in the first set—still stuck in that slump.
What Himesaki feared the most was a scenario where Matsubara Girls’ played at more than 100% of their potential.
And that would require momentum.
On the opponent’s bench sat a young boy and girl who didn’t seem to have much volleyball experience.
(If only they’d keep giving instructions like they did in June, just chasing the next point...)
Coach Akai shook off her momentary hope that her opponents would make a misstep.
(It’s one thing to exploit mistakes, but it’s not right to count on them.)
“Whatever approach they take, our attempt to pressure the setters proved more effective than expected. Maejima, number 11, was setting lower than usual by the end of the first set. Being blocked by Tanabe and Henmi seems to have shaken her a bit. First, let’s keep disrupting their rhythm. Specifically—”
The break between sets was just three minutes.
In that time, Himesaki’s bench reviewed the first set and smoothly aligned their strategy for the second.
It was no surprise, really.
Unlike Matsubara Girls’, many of Himesaki’s players had started volleyball as early as lower elementary school. A volleyball history of over ten years was not unusual among them.
They were young veterans, well-versed in the sport. They’d long known what they needed to do.
That’s why, unlike Matsubara, they didn’t celebrate or despair after every play. They didn’t rely on momentum. They simply did what they needed to do. That was all.
Piiiii!
The whistle signaling the start of the second set echoed.
“We need just two more sets to win. The second set starts with their serve. Let’s side out on the first try and keep the momentum on our side.”
“Himesaki, fight!”
““““Yeah!””””
After forming a huddle in front of the bench, the players of Himesaki High made their way to the court.
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