Chapter 55: Training Camp 18

Reon looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“So what exactly am I supposed to be in your eyes?”

“A mom!”

Kawanishi and Yamagata answered in perfect unison.

Reon’s mouth twitched. He glanced around—was no one going to defend him? Seriously?!

Ryosuke stood guiltily behind Ushijima, clearly trying to use the captain’s solid frame as a shield. Tsutomu Goshiki and Yunohama had already gone to wash up, while Eita Semi kept playing games as if nothing concerned him.

Shirabu patted Reon on the shoulder. “Ah. This is your fate.”

Reon grimaced and crushed the slip of paper in his hand.

“Fine! We’ll talk about it tomorrow!”

He stomped off to wash up, finally experiencing firsthand the misery Ryosuke had gone through.

The next day, all through training, Reon felt like everyone’s eyes were on him.

He served with a sour expression, each serve fiercer than the last. Tsutomu Goshiki struggled to receive them, his face scrunched up. “Senior Reon feels especially intense today…”

By the afternoon practice match, Reon couldn’t take the stares anymore. It was all his own fault—why had he ever suggested voting last night? His mouth was about as unlucky as Ushijima’s draws.

Under everyone’s expectant gazes, Reon trudged over to the entrance of the gym and found Coach Washijō.

The three first-years exchanged looks and quietly crept over to eavesdrop. Tendo, on the other hand, was in an excellent mood, humming a little tune.

“Every day it’s these crooked ideas! IH is right around the corner! Why are you coming up with this kind of nonsense now? And Saito’s fooling around with you too?!”

Coach Washijō’s scolding made the three of them flinch at the same time. They shrank into the corner, not daring to make a sound, somehow opening a silent private chat with just their eyes.

Tsutomu Goshiki frantically signaled to Yunohama: We should get out of here! If we stay, Coach Washijō will yell at us too!

Yunohama nodded solemnly and gestured for Ryosuke to look toward Coach Washijō: Let’s leave first. Let Senior Reon face the storm alone.

Seeing the two of them exchanging exaggerated looks, Ryosuke suddenly nodded in realization: Got it! I’m supposed to save Senior Reon!

He understood—but not quite.

Ryosuke sprang up all at once, leaned forward, and declared loudly, “It’s not Senior Reon’s fault! This was our idea!”

Tsutomu Goshiki & Yunohama: !!?

Tsutomu Goshiki: Why aren’t you following the plan?!

Yunohama: This cursed misreading—no, this is just blindness…

Reon, completely out of the loop, eyes glistening with emotion: This kid’s solid.

Coach Washijō spotted Ryosuke popping out and felt his temple throb. This brat again—always stirring up trouble.

Tsutomu Goshiki and Yunohama didn’t even have time to run before they were spotted. The four of them ended up standing in a neat row, getting scolded together.

Same team or not, if you’re getting yelled at, you do it properly—in formation.

Coach Washijō went on for over half an hour, his throat so dry it felt like it was smoking.

Ryosuke stood there with a serious face, completely lost in thought. Yunohama’s eyes wandered as he debated dinner—was it pork cutlet tonight? But the rice balls from the past few days had been pretty good too…

Reon fiddled with his fingers behind his back. Ugh, so annoying. Why do I have hangnails right now?!

Only honest little Tsutomu Goshiki listened with trembling focus. Ryosuke tilted his head to glance at him, eyes full of sympathy.

Students from other schools kept sneaking looks over. Bokuto had already passed by three times in half an hour before Akaashi finally grabbed him by the ear and dragged him away.

Even though Shiratorizawa was technically training, everyone’s attention had long since drifted outside.

Coach Washijō eventually ran out of steam. He sighed—getting old really did make it harder to control his temper.

“I won’t interfere. If you want to practice this, do it outside regular training hours. Don’t let it affect normal practice or matches. I don’t care how you train, but if it messes up a match, every single one of you is done for.
Now scram. Go train. Stop standing around here—it’s annoying just looking at you.”

With a dismissive wave, Coach Washijō walked off, leaving them behind.

The group snapped back to their senses, looking at one another.

“So… does that mean Coach Washijō agreed?” someone asked.

Ryosuke rubbed his nose. “I guess he did…”

Tsutomu Goshiki let out a shout and sprinted off happily.

“Coach Washijō agreed!”

Ushijima slammed a ball with a loud thud.

Tendo bounced the ball lightly. Hmm… judging by that sound, Wakatoshi seems pretty happy.
(Tendo-brand Ball Reader)

With Coach Washijō’s approval secured, everyone threw themselves into action, determined to fix their flaws down to the smallest detail.

After some discussion, they decided to work in pairs. After practicing, each pair would point out shortcomings, then get advice from more experienced teammates. After all, they were already at training camp—so much experience to harvest, it would be a waste not to.

Once the plan was set, Shiratorizawa’s famously strong execution kicked in, and they started that very evening.

That night, everyone gathered in the gym. Pairs practiced while the others observed, rotating group by group. Afterward, they all sat together for an internal Shiratorizawa meeting.

Reon held a piece of chalk, sketching on a small blackboard he’d somehow acquired. As for why they didn’t let Captain Ushijima handle things—everyone agreed that if Ushijima spoke too much, it might actually trigger a group beating.

“Alright. We’ve already summarized things. Ryosuke’s proposal regarding jumping methods and landing posture has been approved by Team Doctor Saito and can officially be implemented.
Everyone can consult him during your free time outside training.”

One, two, three—everyone’s eyes locked onto Ryosuke, practically glowing green.

Ryosuke did his best to endure the attention. “I’ll make time to write up a plan.”

He nervously picked at his fingers, worried he wouldn’t be able to teach everyone properly.

“Training camp is already more than halfway over. It’s fine if adjustments take time, as long as they don’t affect matches. Next, let’s talk about our two setters.”

At Reon’s direction, Ushijima deliberately seated Shirabu and Eita Semi side by side.

Both wore sour expressions, refusing to look at each other. Ushijima sat next to them, silently supervising to prevent an argument.

“Shirabu needs to learn flexibility from Semi. People say setters are crafty—so how did you end up this stubborn?
And you, Semi! What are you laughing at?! I’ll go talk to the setter from Fukurōdani and ask him to give you some guidance. Learn how to set the most suitable ball for our ace. Both of you are going.”

Reon narrowed his eyes and added calmly, “If you don’t cooperate, when we get back to the dorms, Ushijima will throw out all your messy clothes and magazines.”

Both of them stiffened and turned toward Ushijima in disbelief.

“Ushijima-senpai!”

“Little Ushijima!”

Their cries grew increasingly miserable, but Ushijima showed no guilt whatsoever.

“All for Shiratorizawa.”

Reon nodded with a smile. “All for Shiratorizawa.”

“Tsutomu Goshiki, go ask Kamomedai’s ace for advice. You still have plenty of technical gaps.”

Tsutomu Goshiki asked earnestly, “Why not Bokuto?”

“Because the two of you together would drive us insane.”

The destructive power of two single-celled organisms was no joke—they absolutely could not be allowed to team up.

“Satori and Ryosuke should exchange ideas on blocking with Nekoma and Kamomedai.
Yamagata, go to the First Gym every night. The liberos from other schools have been training there together these past few days.
Kawanishi and Ushijima, you two go practice with sakusa first and learn how to deal with those soft shots.”

Ryosuke’s eyes filled with reluctance. He wanted to train with the liberos too, his hair practically drooping in disappointment.

Reon chuckled and glanced at him. “Once you finish your assigned tasks, you can arrange the rest of your time freely. I’ll have Team Doctor Saito supervise.”

Ryosuke’s hair instantly sprang back up like antennae. He felt fully recharged, eyes sparkling with excitement.

Reon reached out and ruffled Ryosuke’s hair.

“Alright, everyone! Let’s give it our all! IH—we’re taking them all down!”

“Yeah!!”

The unified cheer echoed through the gym.

Outside, under the dim streetlight, Coach Washijō stood silently, a faint smile on his face.

This era belonged to the young, after all. He was getting old.