Wind and Moon Relations (5)
Thwack!
Tae-il flinched like he was watching a horror flick at the sharp impact that stabbed right into his ears.
The hit from down on the court rang out so fiercely it echoed vividly all the way to the back of the stands.
It was Sakuya's spike crashing down.
"Gotta be careful not to mess with Sakuya."
"Why's that?"
"Feels like it'd kill you if it hit."
If he pissed her off and took even one stray hit, he might actually be done for.
Rena shuddered in the chill, shrinking her neck as if she'd had the exact same thought.
"Couldn't agree more. That thing's straight-up attempted murder if it lands."
An enemy to fear, but as an ally, more reliable than anyone.
The players dashing across the court probably felt the same.
"Man, they're blocking like pros though. This the team that barely scraped into the finals?"
"That's what I heard, yeah."
The libero who'd miraculously blocked Sakuya's spike just moments ago set up an easy toss. Sakuya, frustrated at her thwarted attack, kicked the floor but hustled back to position for defense.
They'd seized a hard-won chance to attack, hoping to regain momentum, but Yuuma High wasn't just about offense.
Thwack!
The center's arm stonewalled the opponent's sloppy spike.
They salvaged the ball from a precarious spot in the back row and linked it back to their attacker, Sakuya.
"Hyaah!"
Sakuya's shout rang out as another spike plummeted down.
Her approach was flawless, timing impeccable.
Tae-il was certain this would finally secure the 10-point mark in the fourth set... but.
Thwack!
The opponent's player threw her whole body into it, barely digging out the spike that made Tae-il wince just from the sound.
Watching through narrowed eyes, Tae-il let out an involuntary gasp of admiration.
"Whoa."
That was the fifth time Sakuya's attacks had been stuffed by defense.
A nail-biter.
Contrary to expectations of a blowout, the two teams were locked in a fierce back-and-forth.
"Finals are supposed to be a cakewalk, huh..."
A cakewalk? Hardly.
Tae-il, who'd reviewed all their prior matches, realized this was one of her toughest battles ever.
'Gives me one more thing to tease her about.'
The thought of Sakuya's overconfident "We're winning easy" face cracking made him chuckle.
But aside from that, worries flitted through his anxious mind.
The longer the match dragged, the more it drained their ace, Sakuya, piling on the pressure.
Natural fatigue would sap focus, leading straight to errors—or injuries.
'Volleyball injuries are usually hands or ankles...'
If luck soured, even the face.
Tae-il clicked his tongue softly at the sight of Sakuya sprinting across the court, drenched in sweat, barely catching her breath.
Win, by all means. But don't get hurt.
'Should've told her that...'
He regretted forgetting to warn her not to push too hard.
An ace was the vanguard leading the team to victory and glory.
Someone with unmatched presence, punching through walls to show the path even when the future looked blocked.
Sakuya embodied that perfectly.
In club sports, in the original band's story—she was the undisputed ace.
So Tae-il never doubted her win.
He just hoped she wouldn't overdo it and get hurt. The girls' volleyball team's three-peat mattered, but Sakuya's career mattered more.
The other players' Interhigh ended here, but hers was just beginning.
"You got this, Sakuya."
Tae-il bit his thumb, silently praying for her championship.
* * *
Tweet!
The whistle signaling a point blew, and Sakuya collapsed to the floor.
The other players weren't much better.
Everyone was spent.
'Ahaha.'
A dry laugh escaped her.
Thirst kept her from opening her mouth wide enough for a real smile.
She gritted her teeth, struggling to steady her ragged breathing.
'So tenacious.'
They should've crumbled by now.
No matter how hard she hammered, they popped back up like weeds.
Sweat poured from her hair like rain, blurring her vision.
Sakuya regretted skipping the headband.
Shirakawa Public High School.
A weakling team that hadn't even made Interhigh proper in over five years.
To Sakuya, they were the kind of underdogs you could trash-talk without guilt.
They'd scraped into nationals by doggedly keeping their club alive, only to get bounced early every time. Yet here they were in the finals, pushing powerhouses like Yuuma to the brink.
'What is this, a shonen manga...?'
Shirakawa got stronger with every match, growing right before her eyes.
The pace was so absurd Sakuya almost laughed in disbelief.
She'd once joked to friends that she felt like the final boss in a sports manga.
'Words really do come back to bite.'
Sakuya chuckled inwardly.
They'd miraculously qualified, clawed through twists and turns to the finals—textbook protagonists.
True to the hero's journey, they'd racked up wins in nationals, but not one was easy.
The sets they'd played just to get here were easily double Yuuma's.
Experience and stamina should've been no contest.
The world had predicted a Yuuma rout.
And yet.
'Do they have some kinda grit skill or what?'
For the first time in her life, Sakuya felt the real threat of exhaustion mid-volleyball match.
She'd never lagged in stamina before, but hammering spikes non-stop had her arms trembling now.
Gripping her forearm, unable to stand, as the captain-senpai approached.
"You okay, Sakuya? Wanna sub out?"
"Nah."
She wiped the slick sweat and looked up at the stands.
Tae-il wasn't watching, and even Rena—who'd been sketching—had stopped to focus on the game.
Sakuya hated the idea of backing off now.
"Let's keep going."
"You sure you're not pushing? Our season ends today, no biggie. But yours doesn't."
"I'm fine. Just need a good rest tomorrow."
Steadying her breath, she glared across the net at the opponents.
Every one of them eyed her like she'd killed their families—pure bloodthirsty menace.
'Ugh, getting to me.'
Sakuya's lips twitched upward into a grin.
Dizziness swirled from dehydration.
Closing her eyes felt like it'd drop her right there.
But.
'Can't pass up a chance this good.'
Sakuya toughed it out.
She'd probably never get another experience this thrilling, dramatic, straight out of a manga.
Today's intensity would fuel her future comics.
"Hoo. Gotta etch it all in—every emotion, every sensation."
She shut her eyes.
The roaring cheers for her side, once shaking the gym, faded; now she could hear the opponents muttering across the net.
The crowd's split focus—rooting for her win but glued to the foes—stung.
Still.
'Whatever.'
It was fresh.
Eyes open, hostile glares stabbed at her from everywhere.
The girl always hailed a hero now felt like the villain in this moment.
Sakuya smirked unbroken as she took the ball for serve.
No fancy routine—just a few bounces on the floor before setting up.
"Here it comes!"
One of Sakuya's rare edges in girls' volleyball: her spike serve rocketed smoothly over the net.
Fatigue dulled the power from early game levels, but the opponents were girls too.
Enough to rattle their receive.
As expected.
"Kyaa!"
The opponent's libero, taking Sakuya's serve head-on, flubbed it into oblivion.
"Nice serve!"
A quick high-five with senpai, and Sakuya flashed a villainous grin across the net.
* * *
"Not giving an inch."
Rena shot a glance at the stalled scoreboard.
Her sketching hand, captivated by the desperate scene, had stopped long ago.
Like Tae-il, Rena's eyes darted frantically, chasing the ball bouncing left and right.
Her one volleyball rule: 'Drop it on their side.'
Both teams threw everything to make it happen.
And countered with insane defense.
The world remembers only winners.
Neither side yielded.
Rallies that should've ended ages ago dragged on, mirroring the players' refusal to lose. Each desperate dive at the ball's edge had Rena on pins and needles.
"Think we can win?"
"Yeah."
Even laced with anxiety, Tae-il affirmed calmly.
His infinite faith in Sakuya held firm.
Sakuya's dictionary had no word for defeat.
Rena glared at him incredulously.
'He's smitten.'
Tae-il's face flushed with excitement.
Fists on his knees clenched huge each time Sakuya struck the ball.
Anyone'd think he was on the team.
Rena idly resolved never to watch sports with him during Olympics or World Cup.
"Kinda impressive."
"Tell me about it."
Opponents ran with wildly off-balance form, yet pushed the shaky rally on.
Not just one—all twelve on court acted like this was their one-shot Interhigh, ace or not.
The rowdy cheers quieted.
Tae-il closed his eyes.
Screech.
Sneakers scraping the court.
"Aaagh!"
Players' heated screams as they overworked their bodies toward the ball.
Smack!
Tae-il swallowed hard.
Thud!
Thud!
Clang!
Smack!
The unexpectedly marathon rally flowed slow sometimes, fast others—rhythm all over the place.
'Like a beat.'
Tae-il opened his eyes quietly, an old notepad already in hand.
He planted his fidgeting butt back in the seat and listened close.
In the sweltering gym, he jotted the sounds of girls desperately rallying with hands, arms, even legs.
His heel tapped the notes.
As the rally stretched, beats subdivided; heel and pen danced faster.
'Next...'
Building melody atop the rhythm foundation.
Thwack!
A huge crack made Tae-il look up mid-note.
Sakuya at the net bellowed.
"Azah!"
The ref's whistle blew.
"Point?"
"Yeah."
Sakuya's score claimed 20 first; opponents called timeout.
Leaning on senpai, grinning as she hydrated, Sakuya tossed a peace sign their way.
Tae-il slumped in relief at her "I'm good" signal, exhaling hugely.
"Haaah. Why's this got me holding my breath..."
"Random thought."
"Hm?"
"Which country you root for in Olympics or World Cup?"
"Huh? Korea, obviously."
"Got it."
Rena nodded.
'Never watching Japan-Korea matches with this guy.'
As Rena vowed silently, play resumed.
Flow interrupted, but lead intact, Sakuya still strong.
Tae-il skimmed his fresh notes.
'Just jammed whatever inspiration hit...'
Would tweak it properly at home. He closed the pad.
The match barreled toward endgame.
Players gassed, no more marathons—quick kills and errors piled points.
Thus.
Yuuma High stood one point from victory.
Serve: opponents.
The player with striking hair color lightly tossed and bumped from position.
The limp floater...
caught the net.
Plop.