Chapter 72: Barbecue

The group chatted about Ryosuke’s family background in the car, then made a stop in Ginza to look around. They picked up quite a lot of sports gear, and it wasn’t until they reached the checkout that everyone truly realized just how wealthy Ryosuke’s family was.

“What? We don’t have to pay?” Tsutomu Goshiki yelped, clutching the limited-edition volleyball in his hands.

The others nearby all turned to look.

Reon walked over. “What’s wrong, Tsutomu Goshiki?”

Tsutomu Goshiki pointed at the cashier. “She said this is all free!”

Reon: “?”

The cashier smiled. “This store belongs to the Hanyu family. Lifetime free shopping.”

Tsutomu Goshiki’s jaw dropped.

Reon was stunned as well. He slowly reached over and closed Tsutomu Goshiki’s gaping mouth. Tsutomu Goshiki set the volleyball down, then dragged Ryosuke aside to whisper.

“She said it’s free. Is that really okay?”

Ryosuke thought something serious had happened. He rubbed Tsutomu Goshiki’s head. “It’s fine. If you feel bad about it, then when we get back to school, just practice blocking with me.”

Compared to practicing blocks with Ryosuke, he’d rather just pay…

Tsutomu Goshiki nodded with a miserable look.

After finishing their shopping, they headed straight out.

Shirabu held his new sneakers, turning them over again and again, clearly unable to put them down.

Ushijima asked Ryosuke with some concern, “Is this really not too much trouble for you?”

As soon as he said that, everyone else turned to look at Ryosuke.

Ryosuke swallowed. “It’s fine. Our family also sponsors the school’s training camp budget.”

Silence fell over the group.

Yamagata stepped forward and slung an arm around Ryosuke’s shoulders. “Good brother. We’ll make it up to you on your next birthday.”

Ryosuke laughed and nodded. He understood it well enough—if they were going to be on the same team for three years, building good relationships mattered. Besides, no one here was a bad person.

Tendo glanced at the time. “Are you guys still shopping? It’s almost three. Shouldn’t we head back?”

Reon nodded. “Yeah, let’s go back.”

They waited by the entrance for a bit. The same car that had been parked at the school earlier soon pulled up again. Everyone got in, getting another small taste of Ryosuke’s everyday life.

Eita Semi asked curiously, “Was it always like this when you went to school?”

Ryosuke shook his head. “Most of the time I didn’t go to school. I had private tutors instead. I didn’t stay in Tokyo for long either. When I was really young, Coach Washijō took me home.”

Eita Semi looked like he wanted to ask more, but Reon stopped him with a glance. Ryosuke looked over, confused.

Reon gave Ryosuke’s head a quick rub. “It’s nothing.”

They drove all the way back to school.

When they got out of the car, Ryosuke said to Matsukawa, “I’ll go back tonight. Prepare a few more guest rooms.”

Matsukawa nodded. “Understood, sir.”

“Wow, so this is what a rich family is like,” Tsutomu Goshiki exclaimed, clearly fascinated.

Ryosuke shook his head. “Being rich is actually pretty miserable. I don’t like crowds because ever since I was a kid, people were watching me everywhere except my own room and bathroom. And I had to study a bunch of things I hated every single day.”

Yunohama clicked his tongue softly. “That does sound pretty rough.”

Ryosuke was about to say more when a shout rang out. “Hey! They’re back!”

Everyone looked up to see Bokuto yelling at the top of his lungs. Others were already setting up the barbecue grills outside.

Reon hurried over to help. “Did we get back too late?”

Akaashi stood nearby, lending a hand. “No, we’re just getting started.”

Everyone put down what they were holding and joined in.

The coaches sat on small stools under the shade of the trees, watching them bustle around. Coach Washijō even snuck a sip of alcohol now and then.

Bokuto was already practically starving, staring fixedly at the grill as he waited for the meat to arrive.

Kōrai Hoshiumi was squatting beside Bokuto, the same eager expression plastered on his face. If Tsutomu Goshiki were there too, the three of them could’ve passed for triplets.

Kuroo found it amusing and snapped a photo with his phone.

Fukurōdani’s female manager walked over carrying a large tray of rice balls. “If you’re hungry, have some rice balls first.”

The team captains naturally stepped forward to distribute them. Before long, they were all gone.

Yukie Shirofuku stared at the empty bag with watery eyes and reached toward Bokuto. “You didn’t even save one for me?”

“Who’s that?” Tsutomu Goshiki stared at the girl.

Yunohama knocked him lightly on the head. “That’s Fukurōdani’s manager. Can you put that look away?”

Tsutomu Goshiki’s gaze was full of longing.

“Why don’t we have a female manager?”

Yunohama didn’t know either. All he could do was stay silent.

Kawanishi happened to overhear as he passed by. Grinning, he walked over and gave them the answer. “Because everyone at school says our volleyball club is full of weirdos.”

Tsutomu Goshiki: “?”

Yunohama: “?”

Now intrigued, Yunohama hooked an arm around Tsutomu Goshiki’s shoulders. “What do you mean?”

Tsutomu Goshiki leaned in as well, curious. The three of them huddled in a corner, chattering away.

The rest split into groups to carry things out from the kitchen—drinks, sushi, and tempura.

Coach Michiko admired how beautifully the sushi was arranged. She picked one up, took a bite, and gasped. “Mm! This is so good. Who made it?”

Coach Washijō glanced over, then took another sip from his cup. “A private kitchen in Shibuya.”

Michiko sighed regretfully. “That place is really expensive.”

Kenji smiled. “Then we’ll pack you some extra to take home.”

After a while, a small van pulled up. A big-bearded man got out and started calling from afar.

“Kids! The meat’s here! Come help unload!”

A crowd immediately swarmed over, carrying box after box inside.

Takeyuki hesitated. “Isn’t this a bit too much?”

Coach Washijō snorted with a laugh. “With this bunch of half-grown boys, I could go bankrupt feeding them. Don’t worry—nothing will be wasted.”

Kuroo stared at the meat in his hands, stunned. “Oh my god… marbled beef, tenderloin, steaks… and foie gras?!”

Hearing that, Ryosuke leaned over to take a look and fell silent. …These were all his favorite foods.

Kuroo kept rambling, “This stuff is insanely expensive. Did Fukurōdani really get a whole truck of it?!”

He looked at Bokuto in confusion. Bokuto looked just as lost—he’d never known his coach was this rich.

His brain short-circuited for a moment. Bokuto scratched his head, then stopped thinking about it and rolled up his sleeves. “Whatever. As long as we can eat.”

The big guys huffed and puffed as they carried the boxes over. The grills were already set up.

The sun after four in the afternoon was still pretty hot. Feeling hazy and drowsy, Ryosuke sat on a stone bench, almost nodding off. Sakusa sat beside him, staring blankly into space.

The air was thick with the smell of burning charcoal, smoky and eye-stinging.

Hirugami sat on a small folding stool in front of the grill, sweat pouring down his face as the meat sizzled and spat grease.

“Does anyone here actually know how to grill?!”

Unable to take the smoke anymore, Hirugami shouted.

Kuroo and Bokuto exchanged looks. “Should we just grill it ourselves?”

Bokuto howled, “Akaashi, Akaashi! Look, I’ll grill meat for you!”

Kuroo grabbed Kenma by the collar and kept him close, making sure he didn’t sneak off to avoid eating.

Wakatsu Kiryū stood at the grill, brushing sauce onto the meat. At first glance, it looked pretty decent—if you ignored the pieces already burnt black in his hands.

Wakatsu Kiryū sighed, silently ate the charred meat, and kept repeating to himself, Don’t waste food. Don’t waste food…

Usuri couldn’t watch anymore. He shoved Wakatsu Kiryū aside. “Move over. Make some space. I’ll do it.”

Wakatsu Kiryū laughed sheepishly and sat down on a small stool to wait for food.

A six-foot-tall guy perched on a tiny stool somehow looked oddly endearing.

The biggest surprise of all, though, was Ushijima.

Ryosuke stared at Ushijima in disbelief, practically drooling.

Ushijima-senpai… can actually cook?!

It wasn’t just Ryosuke—everyone from Shiratorizawa was completely stunned.