Haikyuu! Reaching New heights

Two weeks.

That was all the time we had before facing Aokiri Middle School.

A team stronger, faster, and more experienced than anyone we had faced before.

No more easy wins.

No more lucky points.

If we wanted to compete—we had to push ourselves harder than ever before.

And that meant surviving the most brutal training of our lives.

Matsuda-sensei stood in front of us, arms crossed.

"Alright," he said. "If you thought our last training was tough—get ready to suffer."

Kenji groaned. "I already regret coming today."

Izumi muttered, "I think I'm dying in advance."

Matsuda-sensei smirked.

"We have two weeks to fix your weaknesses. If you want to survive against Aokiri, you need to train like never before."

He pointed at the board behind him.

✔ Defense Overhaul – Izumi, Daichi, and Hinata must receive better than ever.

✔ Blocking Fortress – Kōji has to become a wall at the net.

✔ Unpredictable Setting – Kenji must develop deceptive plays.

✔ More Attackers – Arai and Daichi need to start scoring consistently.

✔ Mid-Air Control – Hinata has to master his new attack.

I clenched my fists.

'No matter what—I won't back down.'

For the first hour, Matsuda-sensei put Izumi, Daichi, and me through hell.

✔ 100 serve receives – If we shanked one, we restarted.

✔ Rapid-fire digs – Matsuda-sensei spiked straight at us without warning.

✔ One-handed dives – If we missed, we had to do push-ups before trying again.

Izumi groaned. "THIS IS TORTURE."

Daichi collapsed. "I can't feel my arms."

Matsuda-sensei smirked. "Then you're finally improving."

I clenched my fists.

'No more easy points for our opponents. I'll receive anything they throw at us.'

Kōji was our weakest blocker.

That had to change.

So Matsuda-sensei paired him against the basketball team's best dunkers.

✔ If they scored past him, he did 20 push-ups.

✔ If he touched the ball, he got a break.

✔ If he stuffed them, he got water.

By the end, Kōji could barely stand.

Kenji patted his back. "Hey, at least you got better?"

Kōji groaned, "My body is broken."

I grinned.

'He's improving. And that's all that matters.'

Kenji's biggest flaw?

His sets were too obvious.

So Matsuda-sensei made him do:

✔ Blindfolded setting drills.

✔ Fake-set to every player before making a real play.

✔ Randomized tosses to break patterns.

Kenji sighed, wiping sweat from his forehead.

"I hate this. I hate all of this."

But I could already tell—he was getting sharper.

'This is how we'll keep Aokiri guessing.'

Until now, I had been our primary attacker.

That had to change.

So Matsuda-sensei made Arai and Daichi train their:

✔ Spike timing and power.

✔ Confidence under pressure.

✔ Shot variety—line shots, cross-courts, and tips.

Arai wiped his forehead. "We're actually… getting stronger?"

Daichi grinned. "Next game, we're not just backup attackers. We're weapons."

I smirked. "That's what we need."

Finally—my personal challenge.

If I wanted to beat Aokiri, I needed a move that no one could predict.

So I practiced:

✔ Mid-air adjustments.

✔ Delayed swings to mess with blockers.

✔ Jumping higher and staying up longer.

At first, I messed up. A lot.

Kenji muttered, "You look like a glitching video game character."

But I kept going.

Jump. Fake. Adjust. Spike.

Jump. Wait. Twist. Attack.

Over and over—until I finally landed the perfect shot.

Kenji's eyes widened. "Wait… that actually worked."

Izumi grinned. "That's dangerous."

I clenched my fists.

'This is it. This is my new weapon.'

Just as we were packing up, Matsuda-sensei's phone rang.

He answered, then looked at us.

"…Well, looks like Aokiri is watching us."

Kenji blinked. "Wait, what?"

Matsuda-sensei smirked.

"They've heard about you, Hinata."

I grinned. "Good. Let them hear more."

Because next week?

We were bringing the fight to them.

...

One week until the match against Aokiri Middle School.

We had been training harder than ever—pushing our limits, fixing our weaknesses, and sharpening our teamwork.

But there was one thing left to do.

We had to see Aokiri in action.

Because if we wanted to beat them—we needed to understand what we were up against.

Matsuda-sensei arranged for us to attend one of Aokiri's practice matches.

It wasn't just any match.

They were facing Shinkawa Middle School—one of the top five teams in the region.

If Aokiri was really as strong as people said… this would prove it.

We arrived at their gym, taking seats in the stands.

Kenji leaned forward. "Damn… their players already look sharp, and they're just warming up."

Izumi gulped. "This is gonna be rough."

I clenched my fists. "Then let's see how strong they really are."

The referee blew the whistle.

Game on.

The moment the first serve left Shinkawa's hands—Aokiri took control.

✔ Perfect receives—clean, effortless.

✔ Fast, precise sets—no wasted motion.

✔ Devastating spikes—powerful and well-placed.

Within minutes, the score was 6-1.

Kenji muttered, "Holy crap. They're insane."

I narrowed my eyes. "No. They're just efficient."

They weren't making fancy plays.

They weren't doing anything flashy.

They were just executing volleyball at the highest level.

And that was what made them so dangerous.

At the center of it all was their captain—Ryo Takahashi.

✔ Perfect control over his spikes.

✔ Reads the game like a pro.

✔ Never seems to panic.

He was everywhere—receiving, attacking, commanding his team.

And every time Shinkawa tried to adjust, he was one step ahead.

Izumi sighed. "This guy is on a different level."

Kenji frowned. "It's like he already knows what's gonna happen before it happens."

I smirked. "Then we'll just have to surprise him."

Aokiri destroyed Shinkawa.

Final score: 25-12.

As we got up to leave, a voice called out—

"You guys are from Yukigaoka, right?"

We turned around.

It was Takahashi.

He walked up to us, hands in his pockets, a calm smile on his face.

"So, you're the Hinata kid I've been hearing about."

I blinked. "Wait—people are talking about me?"

Takahashi chuckled. "Yeah. Word gets around. You're fast. Reckless. A little crazy."

Kenji muttered, "Okay, that's weirdly accurate."

Takahashi's eyes sharpened.

"But speed alone won't work against us."

I smirked. "Good. Because I've got more than speed."

He raised an eyebrow. "Then prove it next week."

And just like that—our match became personal.