Natsuki's POV
Exhibition matches don't count for records.
No medals. No banners. No trophies.
But they matter.
Because scouts show up. Rivals watch. Rumors form.
And Kaimei?
We're not here to prove anything to them.
We're here to prove it to ourselves.
Coach Kubo's POV
When I agreed to this match, I told the organizers one thing:
"We're not coming to honor Mirai."
We've done that already.
This time?
We're here to play like Kaimei again.
Sho's POV
I'm nervous.
Not because of the opponents—Higashi Academy's a strong team, but beatable.
I'm nervous because we're different now.
The formation's new.
The chemistry's still warm.
It's like walking onto a stage with a guitar you've just learned to tune by ear.
But the second Aoi calls the first switch?
I forget the nerves.
We just play.
Rio's POV
The first set is messy.
Expected.
We're adjusting on the fly. Our spacing's off. One of my returns hits Haru in the shoulder (he doesn't even blink).
But then it clicks.
Not with a cheer.
Not with a speech.
Just a moment.
Haru serves. Sho shifts. I cover the net. Aoi reads the open corner and lands it.
Boom.
And suddenly, it's ours.
Not a strategy. A language.
Tanaka's POV
I lose track of the score around mid-match.
All I know is this:
No one's playing scared.
Aoi's taking risks.
Sora's giving notes between sets like she's been doing it forever.
Even Coach Kubo isn't yelling—he's just smiling like someone who knows he made the right bet.
This?
This feels like a team with nothing left to prove…
…and everything left to chase.
Final Rally – Aoi's POV
The match point is unscripted.
No set play. No call.
Just instinct.
Rio pulls forward.
I step back.
The opponent's lob is shallow—inviting, almost.
I slide in.
Hit the reset.
The serve. My serve.
But this time, from mid-rally.
It arcs. Spins. Drops.
Clean.
Final point.
The ref blows the whistle.
But we don't cheer.
We just look at each other.
Breathing hard.
Smiling wide.
Because we know—
We've only just started.