Chapter 47: Training Camp 10

Over the next few days of practice matches, the Shiratorizawa players truly came to appreciate just how blissful it was to have two naturally gifted blockers on the team.

One Tendo was already threatening enough. Add Ryosuke into the mix, and the pressure doubled outright.

During a break, Kuroo wandered over to Shiratorizawa’s court to watch their match—they were currently playing against Itachiyama.

“Ah… that Sakusa from Itachiyama has a seriously disgusting spike…” Kuroo muttered, rubbing his chin as he observed.

“Don’t copy the way I talk, Yaku!”

Kuroo jumped at the sudden voice. Turning around, he saw Yaku behind him, striking the same pose and perfectly mimicking his tone.

Yaku burst out laughing. “Man, Kuroo, you’re so lame.”

“Huh??”

Kuroo: I’ll endure…

“Anyway,” Yaku said, finally dropping the teasing, “Shiratorizawa’s rookie has improved a lot, hasn’t he?”

Kuroo nodded in agreement. “Yeah. His blocking style really looks a lot like Tendo’s.”

Yaku clapped his left hand into his right palm. “Oh! That’s it—I remember now. The rookie’s playstyle is kind of like Yamagata’s too!”

Kuroo shifted his gaze back to the court.

“Shiratorizawa really isn’t holding anything back.”

The match had entered the final set. Everything would be decided here.
The score stood at 19–18.

Shiratorizawa was up by one.

In this match, Ryosuke deeply felt just how strong his childhood friend had become. After not seeing each other for so long, Sakusa had already reached an incredible level.

But I’ll catch up to you, Sakusa.

Ryosuke clenched his fist, eyes locked onto the ball in play.

The opposing side was running a double-setter formation. One of the setters—a blond-haired player—had been introduced by Sakusa before. His name was Taichi Kunihiko.

He looked like a “six-sided warrior,” capable of playing almost any position.

Kunihiko set Komori’s pass, delivering a fast, flat quick. Shielded by two decoy attackers, Sakusa gathered momentum.

He took a curved approach and jumped not far from the net.

Ryosuke’s eyes tracked the ball as it rose. Together with Tendo, he stepped in for a synchronized block.

The advantage of a two-man block was that it covered gaps. The downside was how easily it could be baited.
But for an old fox like Tendo, being fooled was usually something that happened to other people.

Among top players, breaking through relied on pure ability.

Tendo counted aloud.

“One, two—jump!”

Ryosuke thrust his hands over his head, forming a net in midair. His eyes swept across the court, tracking everyone’s positioning, guarding against the possibility of Sakusa faking a spike and dumping the ball instead.

On the other side, Tendo sealed off the cross angle purely on instinct. He had a strong feeling—this one was going cross!

Sakusa twisted his wrist, adding spin, and drove the ball hard toward Ryosuke’s side.

Here it comes!

The moment Ryosuke saw the wrist motion, he tensed his arms and angled his left hand diagonally outward. It was coming straight at him.

The spinning ball slammed into Ryosuke’s knuckles and flew back out.

If Sakusa’s contact point had been just a bit lower, Ryosuke could have stuffed it cleanly for a point.

“One touch!”

Ryosuke landed and immediately called out, warning the seniors behind him as he moved into position at the four spot.

“Great touch!”

The block killed most of the ball’s spin. Yamagata dove left, rolling as he dug up the gift from the front line.

Shirabu rushed into position. In a late-set stalemate like this, the ball would usually go straight to Ushijima.

But Ushijima was running low on stamina—and now they had two reliable middle attackers.

Shirabu set the ball with a quick back toss to Goshiki, who was covering behind.

Goshiki jolted in surprise and chased the ball into the air.

Ryosuke circled around the net to cover, unexpectedly locking eyes with Goshiki mid-play.

Goshiki saw it clearly: two blockers were already waiting in front of him, with the libero positioned behind. A straight-line hit would almost certainly be dug.

Goshiki knew his own limits. Forcing the spike would probably just get him shut down.

What do I do?!

In that split second, he spotted Ryosuke moving behind him. Their eyes met briefly.

They’d spent so much time training together that Goshiki worked with Ryosuke more than almost anyone else. Their coordination was so natural it was like they shared a single brain.

This distance—yeah, it works!

Goshiki flicked his right hand backward without hesitation. He trusted Ryosuke completely.

And sure enough, Ryosuke understood the signal instantly.

This setup—huge success.

With no block in front of him, Ryosuke jumped decisively, hidden behind Goshiki’s movement.

The distance between them wasn’t large, but it was more than enough to fool the blockers.

By the time the opposing blockers jumped, they realized no one was hitting. Their hearts dropped.

“Watch out! Watch out!” Kunihiko shouted.

Too late.

The instant they landed, Ryosuke jumped again—his timing was perfect, leaving them no chance to react.

His arm snapped forward. The ball brushed the net, wobbled, and dropped cleanly onto the court.

The opposing middle blocker, Daishio Kazuki, wore a thoroughly sickened expression.

“Yes! Ryosuke, what a hit!”

Goshiki lunged onto Ryosuke from behind, practically clinging to him.

“I knew you’d put it away! That was insane!”

“Good, good—nice job,” Tendo laughed, hooking an arm around both of their necks.

Shirabu finally let out a breath. “That scared me to death. I thought Goshiki’s hand slipped.”

Reon clutched his chest, equally shaken, then roared,
“Hey! Don’t pull stuff like that next time! What if no one gets to it?!”

Goshiki shrank back, grumbling, “I knew someone would get it. We still had Yamagata-senpai, didn’t we? I couldn’t force that hit!”

“Huh?!” Reon lunged forward and grabbed Goshiki by the ear.

The scene instantly dissolved into chaos.

“No matter how many times I watch, kids these days are amazing,” muttered the Fukurodani libero, who had unknowingly stopped to spectate.

“Oh? Haruki! You think this junior’s impressive too, right?” Yaku said, eyes sparkling as he looked at Haruki Komi.

“Well… compared to me, he’s still got a long way to go,” Komi replied, arms crossed, looking smug despite himself.

“Ugh! I really want to play Shiratorizawa already! It’s the fourth day of the draw—how come we still haven’t matched with them?!” Kuroo shouted in frustration.

If Ushijima heard that, he’d probably feel guilty. When it came to luck-based things like draws, he’d been pulling “great misfortune” at temples every year since his teens. As much as he didn’t want to believe it, his luck really was terrible.

Not long after, the final rally ended with Sakusa forcing a breakthrough against the block. Against Itachiyama, Shiratorizawa could only barely drag the match into a full three-set grind to wear them down.

That made things much easier for whoever had to face Itachiyama next.

Wiping his sweat, Semi asked, “So who’s Itachiyama playing next?”

“Kamomedai,” the three first-years answered in unison.

Semi snorted. “There’s a Chinese saying about robbing the rich to help the poor. Guess that’s what we just did.”

Tendo laughed oddly. “That’s not quite right. Kamomedai isn’t poor at all. This is more like… borrowing flowers to offer to Buddha?”

“That’s not it either. It’s ‘the gift is small, but the sentiment is deep,’ right?” Goshiki said, desperately digging through his shaky vocabulary.

“Then let’s go watch that match later,” Ryosuke suggested.

“Nah, I’m heading back to shower. You guys go ahead,” Shirabu said, packing up his bag and turning away.