Chapter 56: Training Camp 19

Coach Washijō listened to the clamor echoing through the gym, watching the kids in silence.

Maybe he really was getting old. The same old lectures no longer worked on today’s youth. Perhaps this small concession he’d made would become the catalyst for their growth.

With his hands clasped behind his back, Coach Washijō slowly headed off. Under the lights, his figure looked a little stooped.

In the days that followed, everyone at Shiratorizawa began learning new techniques, refining the weapons in their hands and sharpening them to an even keener edge.

The liveliest training sessions were always in the evenings, when Reon and the others went to find Ryosuke to practice jumping techniques.

A whole crowd would gather, noisy and spirited, brimming with energy.

Jumping mechanics were something everyone was eager to learn. In most teams, more than half the players had some kind of leg injury, and no athlete wanted their legs to give out before they ever reached their peak.

That night, Ryosuke somehow turned up with a pile of half-meter-high soft mats. Patting them as he caught his breath, he said,

“I mentioned before that your jumping technique has issues. I noticed most of you like to jump off one foot and land on one foot. Over time, your dominant leg is definitely going to get injured. The takeoff method I’m talking about is the shuffle jump.”

Yamagata, who had come over just to watch the commotion, looked at Ryosuke in surprise.

“You mean the shuffle step used for receiving?”

Ryosuke scratched his head. “I don’t know. I’ll just demonstrate. I only know how to train it—I haven’t learned the shuffle step for receiving yet.”

Reon raised an eyebrow. Somehow, this didn’t feel very reassuring.

Ryosuke waved Tsutomu Goshiki over and had him stack four mats together, forming a two-meter-high platform that was almost as tall as the net.

“Is that really okay?” Eita Semi asked with a frown.

“Relax, Little Ryosuke definitely knows what he’s doing,” Tendo hummed lazily, draped over Semi’s back.

Ryosuke stepped back three paces, moving into position as he explained.

“Usually, when you start training, you focus on the form. You don’t need to jump at first—you set a fixed number of steps for yourself.”

He lifted his right foot.

“First step forward with your right foot. Then take a second step forward with your left.”

He leaned back slightly so everyone could clearly see his feet.

“Each step should land in front of the previous one. The first two steps are just normal walking. When you take the third step, push your right foot forward while driving your body diagonally upward. Then step forward with your left foot, pull your right foot back, and land on the ball of your foot. After that, land your left foot the same way. That completes one cycle.”

He continued without pausing.

“Next, you repeat it over and over, until it becomes natural. When you can move from walking to running, that means you’re comfortable with the shuffle. Only when you can use it freely have you really mastered the motion.”

He finished in one breath, not sure how much of it had actually sunk in.

Tsutomu Goshiki stared at Ryosuke’s feet thoughtfully. “I get what you’re saying, and the training method is different, but it doesn’t feel like there’s that big a difference.”

“There is. I’ll show you.”

Ryosuke rubbed Tsutomu Goshiki’s head. “Move back a bit.”

Tsutomu Goshiki retreated to stand beside Yunohama and watched.

Ryosuke took a few steps back, then went forward—two quick steps, his left foot closely following his right. On the final step, he sprang upward, drawing his body in tight and tucking his legs.

With a sharp whoosh, he landed cleanly on top of the two-meter stack of mats.

“Whoa—you flew!” Tsutomu Goshiki froze, eyes wide.

Crouching on the mat, Ryosuke looked down at them.

“See? That’s what it looks like. I held back, though. I was worried I’d jump too high and fall.”

Ushijima watched in silence, deep in thought. This takeoff style didn’t seem suited to him—it looked better for someone with a slimmer build. He spoke up directly.

“I’m too bulky. Can I even jump like that?”

Ryosuke faltered for a moment and carefully looked over his captain’s build. He’d never really thought about that before—he’d only cared whether he could jump high himself.

But it didn’t seem like a big problem.

Still crouched on the mat, Ryosuke leaned forward and said,

“It’s fine. I don’t really know how this relates to the shuffle step itself, but it’s basically in the same category as our three-step approach or a standing two-foot jump.”

His legs were starting to ache, so he sat down and continued.

“This kind of takeoff has a lot of room for improvement. Like Tsutomu Goshiki said earlier—it feels like you’re flying. It helps increase your airtime and distance. It’s not limited by your body type. It’s the takeoff method that limits people. With the right technique, your movements become lighter.”

The more Tendo listened, the stranger it felt. He’d definitely heard something like this before. His brows knitted together as he thought.

“Hey, Little Ryosuke—where did you learn this?”

Ryosuke paused. “He never told me his name. He was in Tokyo, part of a mutual aid association for people with disabilities. He had prosthetic legs.”

Reon poked Tendo. “That’s enough. You all saw Ryosuke’s jump just now. He really does jump higher than the rest of us. Let’s train like this.”

Just then, Tsutomu Goshiki suddenly shouted,

“I get it!”

Yunohama, standing nearby, was startled so badly he jerked forward and reflexively grabbed him in a chokehold.

“What’s with the sudden yelling?! What did you figure out to get this excited?”

Tsutomu Goshiki slapped at Yunohama’s arm.

“It’s what Ryosuke said earlier! It’s not that our bodies limit our movements—it’s that our takeoff technique isn’t efficient, so we can’t jump high.

It’s like playing a game and changing your equipment and strategy. With the right setup, of course you get twice the result with half the effort.”

Ryosuke gave him an approving thumbs-up.

“Tsutomu Goshiki, you finally got smart for once.”

He hopped down from the mat and walked back over to the group.

“I’ve always jumped like this. It doesn’t look that different, but the difference it makes is huge. Lately, I can feel my hitting point getting even higher.”

The moment he finished speaking, Shirabu’s sharp gaze swept over, his eyes full of barely contained excitement.

Ryosuke froze.

Oh no. I got carried away. I forgot Shirabu-senpai loves setting high balls. I never told him my hitting point got higher. I’m dead. I’m so dead.

A middle blocker not telling the setter about changes in their hitting height right away—that was basically saying you didn’t trust the setter.

With a miserable expression, Ryosuke edged over to Shirabu’s side.

“Shirabu-senpai…”

Shirabu shot him a sideways glance, ignored him completely, and turned back to his own training.

Ryosuke hurried after him.

“Shirabu-senpai… I didn’t mean to…”

“Shirabu…”

“Kenjiro~”

Shirabu shuddered violently. That syrupy voice was absolutely revolting.

He glared hard at Ryosuke.

Just as he was about to snap, he met those big, cat-like eyes, and the words stuck in his throat.

Shirabu’s weakness for cats made it impossible for him to scold Ryosuke. He turned away in a huff, sulking to himself.

Next time. Next time, he’d definitely give him a proper scolding.

Ryosuke’s little cowlick drooped. Shirabu-senpai was really angry—his eyes were even red. Just as Ryosuke was about to move on to phase two and play pitiful, he heard Shirabu’s voice.

“What are you standing there for? Get over here and measure your reach again!”

Ryosuke’s eyes lit up instantly, and he scampered over.

If Shirabu was calling him over, that meant he wasn’t mad anymore. Shirabu-senpai was really easy to appease.

Cat happy jpg.

“Coming, coming!”

Even the cowlick on his head bounced with excitement.

Reon watched the two of them with an amused smile, full of satisfaction.

“Shirabu finally has a normal friend. That’s really nice.”

“What’s with that old-father tone…?”

Kawanishi muttered under his breath, thoroughly speechless.