Himesaki High’s super rookies, Chika Okino and Masami Tokumoto, were known as cheerful, talented sports girls blessed with natural ability in volleyball, who worked hard and never lost heart in the face of adversity.
That was the public image, at least—but in reality, for the two of them, volleyball was simply a means to fulfill their desire for external validation.
They started playing volleyball in April of their fourth year in elementary school. A small local boys' volleyball club, which they would later join, distributed flyers to nearby elementary schools in an effort to recruit new members. That’s how the two of them, from different schools, ended up meeting.
At that volleyball club, they were pampered from the start. The coach and manager refrained from being too strict at first, not wanting to scare off the new recruits.
Before long, the two of them displayed exceptional natural ability. In no time at all, they were on par with or even surpassed the older fifth- and sixth-year players. Since they were outstandingly skilled, well-behaved, and exemplary in attitude, there was never a reason to scold them.
By the time they reached fifth grade, both had overtaken the sixth-years and secured spots as regulars on the team. In sixth grade, they powered through even the strongest teams in the prefecture and made it all the way to nationals.
However, while they were indeed remarkably skilled, they were also the only ones on the team who were. Whatever their personalities, their teammates simply didn’t have the same level of talent when it came to volleyball.
At the prefectural level, that might have been enough—but at the national level, winning with just two players was no longer feasible.
And yet, this actually worked out well for the two of them.
“Ahh, what a shame about that team. The setter and the ace are amazing, but the other four just can’t keep up.”
“Right? That last match—putting three blockers on the ace? That’s not something you usually see in an elementary school match. If they’d had just one more decent spiker…”
“No, what they really needed was a tall blocker…”
“No, first and foremost, they needed a good receiver. If you can’t get the ball to the setter properly, the game falls apart.”
Every time they heard people say things like that, the two of them felt like tragic heroines—and in that, they found a twisted sort of satisfaction.
By the way, in sixth grade, Okino was 157 cm and Tokumoto was 159 cm. No matter how talented they were, without even reaching 160 cm, their prospects as future volleyball players weren’t exactly promising.
“Man, those girls are really good. Though they’re just a little on the short side.”
“Exactly. If they were just five centimeters taller…”
Even those kinds of whispered remarks gave them fuel. After all, they never seriously expected to make a career out of volleyball—and even now, their height was still above average. So really, what was there to complain about?
Although they did receive offers from top private volleyball schools, they didn’t take them. Instead, the two of them went on to attend the same local public middle school—unlike in elementary school, this time together.
Their middle school volleyball experience was, in some ways, less than ideal—but in other ways, it was quite fortunate.
First, the advisor. Claiming to value “student initiative,” they didn’t provide much active coaching. However, to avoid being seen as negligent, they extended practice hours considerably.
Next, the teammates. Unsurprisingly, such a club didn’t attract many strong players, and the roster remained small.
Despite that, with what felt like the passion of a character out of a low-budget drama, the two girls inspired those around them, gradually revised training routines, strengthened the team step by step, and over three years, turned it into a squad that could actually win matches.
Even so, the stigma of being a weak team stuck around, and new members were scarce. By their third year, there were only six players total—and one of them had only started volleyball the previous fall. Yet even in such a precarious state, they managed to fight their way to the national middle school tournament.
Everyone praised them as volleyball prodigies, the driving force behind this miracle.
Around that time, Okino had grown to 170 cm and Tokumoto to 176 cm.
Now that their one apparent weakness—height—had been resolved, it was only natural that invitations from higher-level stages began to arrive. One such invitation was from the U-16 national team.
Unfortunately, they didn’t achieve much success with the U-16s. But the fact that they had gone “from a no-name public middle school to representing Japan” gave their pride all the validation it needed.
Afterward, with strong encouragement from those around them, they enrolled at Himesaki High, renowned as the strongest girls' volleyball school in the prefecture.
As you can probably tell from the gap between their mindset and their resume, Okino and Tokumoto weren’t exactly your model, wholesome sports girls.
They didn’t perform well on the U-16 team because they were overwhelmed by the difference in mindset between themselves and the others. Even now, what they truly loved was being admired—not volleyball itself.
And no one understood that better than the two of them.
It didn’t have to be volleyball. As long as they had a place where they could be the center of attention, where they could feel like queens, that was enough.
That’s why the kind of match where everything depended on their performance—where whether they won or lost came down to them—was something they’d normally want no part of. Ideally, they’d prefer a more relaxed setting, where they could look good on the surface and that would be enough.
And yet—
For some reason…
They couldn’t help but enjoy this situation—
Where they were being pushed to their limits.
Set 5. Matsubara Girls' made a major rotation change. Standing across the net from their ace Tokumoto was a petite, Eastern European-looking girl, not even 160 cm tall.
Up to the 4th set, Matsubara Girls’ rotation had been set up to ensure their monster No. 6 could serve as much as possible, but now they’d adjusted it so that No. 6 would be in the front row at the same time as Tokumoto.
There was only one meaning to this: it was the anti-ace shift that Matsubara Girls had shown as a test in the Spring Nationals Prefecture 2nd Qualifiers, and then used against Youkou High in the Prefecture 3rd Qualifiers—a tight man-marking block by the monster No. 6 on the opposing ace.
Usually in volleyball, multiple blockers are assigned to powerful spikers. But Matsubara Girls' strategy was the complete opposite.
It was a one-on-one mark by the monster No. 6, who boasted overwhelming height and reflexes. Other blockers were positioned slightly to the right of center so as not to get in the way, allowing No. 6 to move freely side-to-side when jumping for a block. Moreover, they completely ignored any ball that didn’t go to the ace—an absolute commitment to their strategy.
And to top it off, unlike the Youkou High match, they even altered their rotation just to match up with Tokumoto’s. Letting her score 14 points in the 4th set must’ve really hit them hard.
This was a tactic that only worked because of No. 6’s exceptional blocking ability—and indeed, her blocking skill was extremely high.
Even the off-timing spikes that Tokumoto had been using since the second half of Set 3 couldn’t get past her. With such a tall block, even if the ball dropped a few centimeters below its peak, it still couldn’t clear. While No. 6 was on her, Tokumoto’s kill rate dropped significantly.
Of course, Himesaki didn’t just sit back and let it happen without a plan.
First was the decoy strategy to confuse the blocker. It was useless—No. 6 stuck to Tokumoto without taking the bait.
Next was a quick attack with a first-tempo spike. No. 6 easily reacted and blocked it.
Then came a strategy to shake her side to side during the spike. But the opponent was too quick—no matter where she jumped, Tokumoto couldn’t shake her off.
A delayed attack. Back in June, that would’ve worked, but now, it didn’t fool her at all.
Varying the spike course left and right. Even though complaints came from the other team—“Don’t wave your arms around so much when you block!”—it was still stopped. Despite being a solo block, she always managed to get a hand on the ball.
Currently, the most effective strategy was—
“I figured out how to deal with No. 6’s block. If she’s going to stop the ball no matter where I hit it, then I might as well aim for her block. The trick is to hit the tips of her fingers—around the first joint of her middle finger. If you hit any lower, she’ll just push the spike back using finger strength alone. Honestly, with a face that cute, she’s got power like a gorilla.”
The current score was 4–3. They had a one-point lead, but now it was No. 6’s turn to serve. Then again, that also meant she would be in the back row for the next three rotations.
A timeout was called to emphasize that point, but that’s when Himesaki’s ace said something incredible.
“No, seriously, we’re going to aim for—”
“Ah, yeah, I figured that’s our only real option,”
The one who casually agreed with that outrageous idea was the setter, Okino.
“But you know, aiming for the fingertips takes a lot of focus.”
“Right? And if your control is even slightly off, instead of a block-out, your spike might not even touch the block and go wildly out of bounds. That’s why we don’t usually go for it.”
“That’s so you, Masami. Always playing it safe instead of taking risks.”
“I’d prefer you call it ‘being steady,’ thank you very much…”
Just casually dropping bombs, both the ace and the backup setter.
“Wait, Masami… are you saying you can aim for the first joint of the fingers when you spike?”
“??? Of course, senpai. You all can too, right? We’ve always been taught to aim for the fingertips during block-out drills.”
““““No no no no.””””
That’s not something most players can do. The time between jumping and hitting the ball isn’t even a full second. Aiming cleanly for the tip of someone’s finger in that brief moment? That’s not something ordinary players can pull off.
When coaches say “aim for the fingertips,” they mean it as a general goal—not literally hit that exact spot. Players who can actually do it are extremely rare.
“??? Chika? Did I say something weird? You can do it too, right?”
“If the toss is good, yeah. But not if it’s a second ball or too far from the net.”
“Well, obviously even I can’t do it in that case.”
...Looks like Himesaki’s first-years are quite the monsters themselves.
“Also, I think we don’t need to force a showdown with No. 6. Our center line is taller than theirs, so we should let Henmi-senpai and the others take some swings too. So I’m counting on good receives. They don’t need to be perfect—just get the ball to me, the setter, and I’ll make sure to set it up right.”
Up until now, for Okino Chika and Tokumoto Masami, volleyball had been a game where their overwhelming talent carried the fight.
But that wasn’t the case anymore.
Now, every court player was fulfilling their role at a high level. And from that, a higher-level style of volleyball was being born.
It wasn’t just the two of them. It was six players, thinking creatively and working together—and that kind of volleyball wasn’t bad at all.
After that, no matter how careful they were, No. 6’s serve was intense, and they gave up the lead during that rotation.
But once that passed, it was No. 6’s turn in the back row.
With the opponent’s offensive power reduced, they took the lead again—until No. 6 returned to the front row, and then...
The first to reach match point was Himesaki High.
But Matsubara Girls added one more point, making it 14–12.
And then—monster No. 6 came up to serve for the second time in the 5th set.
Everyone, both on and off the court, thought the same thing:
This rotation will decide the match.
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