Chapter 63: Training Camp 26

Keiji Akaashi had just been shaken off at the block. When he saw that Kuroo still hadn’t moved, a chill ran through him.

“Watch the setter!”

Too late.

In a flash, Kenma feinted a set, then lightly tipped the ball over with his left hand. It dropped neatly into the front court.

People from all directions dove at once, but no one managed to save it. Koyama Haruki even hit his chin hard on the floor from diving too fiercely.

Kenma stood at the net, the corners of his mouth lifting in a satisfied smile. Across from him, players lay sprawled on the ground, glaring up at him through clenched teeth.

Kenma absolutely loved this feeling—when, at the most unexpected moment, a setter with “no attacking power” suddenly pulled off a second touch. No one could reach it. Everyone ended up flat on the floor, forced to look up at him. It was exhilarating.

“Nice one, Kenma!”

Kuroo happily slung an arm around Kenma’s neck and rubbed against him.

Kenma frowned in disgust and shoved him away.

“Kuroo, you’re too hot.”

Koyama Haruki rubbed his aching chin, eyes watery. Konoha chuckled and lifted his chin to take a look.

“It’s fine. Just a little red.”

Bokuto stood beside Keiji Akaashi, fighting spirit blazing as he shouted toward Nekoma, “Hey hey hey! The next point is ours!”

Kuroo snorted. “A muscle-brained owl.”

“Muscle-brained? Whoa, Kuroo, how’d you figure that?”

“I’m complimenting you, okay?!”

Fukunaga let out a muffled laugh.

Ryosuke sat off the court, musing to himself. He wondered whether Shirabu-senpai had learned tricks like these yet. Shirabu-senpai never seemed to realize that setters could score on their own, too.

Over on Shiratorizawa’s side, Tendo noticed that Ryosuke was gone.

After scanning around, he spotted him watching the match. Tendo snuck over and sat down beside him.

Ryosuke turned his head, and when he saw Tendo, his eyes lit up.

“Tendo-senpai, Kuroo’s blocking is totally different from ours. He always gets block points when you least expect it!”

Tendo followed his gaze and studied Kuroo’s blocking, a curious glint appearing in his eyes.

“It really is good. Nekoma’s blocking system was probably organized by their captain himself. Huh—they really like baiting people, don’t they?”

Ryosuke’s big, cat-like eyes lit up instantly. He grabbed Tendo’s arm excitedly.

“Right? Right? They love leaving the backcourt open while sealing off everywhere else, forcing hitters to aim there. The libero stays in position six—if the ball goes backcourt, he only needs a second to chase it down. It’s so cool!”

Watching Ryosuke chatter away, Tendo smiled with curved eyes and ruffled his hair.

“That’s a libero-plus-block defensive system. Hell’s Fisherman.”

The two watched the match with great interest. Tendo glanced sideways at Ryosuke and let out a quiet sigh. Fine, fine—this was good enough for now. The kid still hadn’t figured things out yet.

Then Sakusa crossed his mind. Tendo narrowed his eyes. Tch. Childhood friends really were annoying.

During practice, Tsutomu Goshiki was looking for someone to receive his ball. He scanned the court and saw Yamagata-senpai paired up with Kawanishi, then started looking around for Ryosuke again.

When he spotted him watching the match, Tsutomu Goshiki tossed the ball aside and ran over to sit with him.

Ryosuke pulled Tsutomu Goshiki over.

“Come on, hurry. Watch carefully and learn. Did you see Bokuto’s spike just now? His scoring rate is high partly because of power, but also because of the angle. That last ball had a really weird angle.

If you hit too hard, it flies out. If the angle’s just a bit off, it smashes straight into the libero’s arms. That’s called ball control. Watch closely.”

Ryosuke was genuinely worried sick over Tsutomu Goshiki, seizing every chance to stuff knowledge into him. Tsutomu Goshiki listened, completely stunned.

“I know all that, but… how am I supposed to actually do it?”

“You need more practice,” a calm voice said from behind him. “Polish your touch. You have to make that kind of situational judgment and power control into pure reflex.”

The three of them turned around at the same time to see Ushijima standing behind Tsutomu Goshiki, his shadow looming over him like a small mountain.

Tsutomu Goshiki excitedly invited the senior he admired so much to sit down and watch the match together. Ushijima hesitated for a moment, then still sat down with them.

The set ended quickly, with Fukurōdani taking the first game. Everyone was panting heavily. Looking over at Nekoma, though, they still seemed to have energy to spare, calm and composed.

Bokuto scratched his not-very-bright head.

“We won, but… something still feels off.”

Keiji Akaashi happened to catch that remark. It was like a bolt of lightning—he immediately started replaying everything in his mind, trying to figure out what felt wrong.

It wasn’t that Akaashi was overly cautious. It was just that Bokuto’s instincts about the flow of the game were always uncannily accurate—like a small animal’s danger radar.

Akaashi thought it over but still couldn’t pinpoint the issue. Even so, a quiet sense of alertness settled in his heart.

From the sidelines, Tendo chuckled. “That little second-touch from Nekoma’s setter is pretty interesting.”

Ryosuke nodded along. “Kenma’s really impressive.”

Ushijima nodded honestly.

Only Tsutomu Goshiki looked completely lost—he still couldn’t clearly see what was going on.

Tendo sighed. “Goshiki, you just need to know how to play volleyball.”

Tsutomu Goshiki: “?”

While they were talking, Shirabu came over as well. From far away, he’d seen Ushijima-senpai watching the match and followed along. He glanced at the group in disgust—did they really not mind sitting on the dirty ground?

“On Nekoma’s side, the setter and main players aren’t making any big moves. They’re conserving stamina. In the first set, the ones dragging things out with Fukurōdani were the middle blocker and the libero. The libero’s stamina looks great. The middle blocker’s a bit crafty.

He knows how to pull things out while sneaking in some rest.”

Shirabu explained it to Tsutomu Goshiki. On their team, Tsutomu Goshiki was the only one who really needed this kind of extra attention. His theoretical knowledge wasn’t great, so the seniors had to feed it to him bit by bit every day.

Tendo and Ryosuke turned back at the same time, faces mirroring each other in surprise.

“Huh? You actually understand this stuff?”

Shirabu immediately blew up. “What’s with those looks?! I don’t like using schemes, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind, okay?!”

The volume of Shirabu’s usually flat voice shot up.

Tsutomu Goshiki rubbed his ears, full of awe. Amazing, Ryosuke—one normal comment and you’d already baited Shirabu-senpai into using his ultimate move.

Shirabu stood there fuming beside Ushijima, stiff as an angry wooden post.

Reon was tired from spiking and decided to take a break. He turned to call Ushijima over to keep hitting, but when he looked—

Reon: “?? Where did everyone go?”

Only Kawanishi and Yamagata were still practicing. Yunohama was curled up in a corner, lying on a volleyball while playing games.

Semi was practicing receives by himself.

Other than that, not a single person was left.

Reon rubbed his eyes, thinking maybe he’d woken up too abruptly and was hallucinating. Everyone was gone. He blinked again.

Oh. Not a hallucination.

He stormed off to find them. After circling around a few times, he spotted Shirabu standing stiffly at the Nekoma match, watching. Reon nodded in relief. Walking closer, he realized there were four grown men sitting on the ground watching the game.

Earlier, a box of volleyballs had blocked his view, so he’d only seen Shirabu standing there. Reon ground his back teeth hard, his temper flaring instantly.

“What are you all doing?!”

The four who were completely absorbed in the match vaguely felt like they’d heard Reon’s teeth-gritting voice.

“Did you hear something?” Tsutomu Goshiki asked, confused. “I think I’m hallucinating.”

Ryosuke pressed his lips together. “No, you’re not. I heard it too.”

They turned around to see Shirabu already firmly under Reon’s control. Reon smiled gently.

“Having fun watching?”

Tendo lowered his head and said nothing. Ryosuke shrank guiltily toward Tendo, who subtly shifted to block him.

Ushijima stood up, expression unchanged. “I was giving some pointers.”

Tsutomu Goshiki stammered, “I-it’s… it’s good!”

Tendo and Ryosuke covered their faces at the same time. This poor kid.

Reon’s face twisted as he grabbed Tendo by the ear with one hand and hauled Tsutomu Goshiki along with the other. The remaining three followed meekly behind, not daring to breathe too loudly.

The scene looked very harmonious (strike that).

Naturally, once they returned to the dorm, they were all punished—washing socks.

Washing the entire dorm’s socks.

Ryosuke’s face twisted as if the sky itself had fallen.