Chapter 33: Serve

After the embarrassing incident last time, Tendo was unusually well-behaved for a while. Once Eita Semi got over his initial panic, he started following Tendo around every day, pestering him shamelessly about his underwear.
It was rare to see Tendo at a loss for words, but for the past couple of days, Eita Semi had been clinging to him nonstop.

“Satori, Satori—what color underwear are you wearing today~?”

“Get lost! You freaking pervert!”

After two days of this, everyone had grown used to it. It was as if Eita Semi had flipped some strange switch and was gradually turning more and more like Tendo himself.

Ryosuke stood beside Goshiki, hugging a volleyball and watching Tendo pace back and forth in a fury. He asked worriedly, “Is Tendo-senpai… really okay like this?”

“Probably…?” Goshiki scratched his head uncertainly.

After quietly observing for a while, it seemed that aside from Tendo-senpai’s impotent rage, nothing serious was happening. Only then did Ryosuke finally relax.

Ryosuke sighed and turned to train with Goshiki.

During practice, Ryosuke was distracted the entire time. The training camp was coming up soon, but his serve still wasn’t ready. In the Miyagi area, almost no one practiced the hook serve.

Last time, he’d even asked the advisor about it in a roundabout way. The advisor said that no schools in Miyagi used the hook serve in official matches.

Practicing by watching videos was possible, but having someone guide him in person would be completely different. Ryosuke didn’t dare practice recklessly either. The hook serve was powerful, but it put a huge strain on the body—especially the shoulder. One wrong movement and it was easy to get injured.

“Ryosuke!”

Lost in thought, Ryosuke snapped back to reality when he heard Goshiki calling him. He looked up—and a volleyball flew straight at his face, leaving him no time to dodge.

Thud!

It hit him square in the face. Ryosuke stared blankly and touched his nose as Goshiki rushed over in a panic. “Ryosuke! Where did it hit?! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

Ryosuke covered his face. “It hurts like hell, Goshiki!!”

“What do I do, what do I do?! I’ll go get the team medic! Don’t panic—hang in there!”

Ryosuke grabbed Goshiki just as he was about to run off. “It hurts too much. I need to drink cacholate milk for a whole week before I’ll recover.”

“Huh?!” Only then did Goshiki realize he’d been fooled. “Don’t joke around like that next time! I’ll bring you chocolate milk tomorrow.”

Ryosuke finally huffed and lowered his hand. The ball had hit him right on the nose—he’d honestly thought it might be broken for a second.

He couldn’t help rubbing it again. Goshiki’s arm strength was really no joke; that hit was almost on par with Reon-senpai’s.

Putting aside his tangled thoughts, Ryosuke focused seriously on practicing blocks.

After training ended, Yunohama noticed that Ryosuke left unusually fast today, without staying behind for extra practice. Normally, Ryosuke was the most enthusiastic person in group training.

Leaving this quickly? Something was definitely going on.

After school, Ryosuke pedaled his bike at full speed all the way to Mr. Yamamoto’s convenience store.

He couldn’t ask Coach Washijō directly—but asking one of Coach Washijō’s former teammates was fair game. Ryosuke felt extremely smart for thinking of it.

Proud cat.jpg.

“Mr. Yamamoto!” Not seeing anyone in the shop, Ryosuke raised his voice and called out.

Yamamoto poked his head out from the storage room. “Oh? Isn’t this Washijō’s kid? What brings you here?”

Strictly speaking, based on seniority, Ryosuke should have called Yamamoto “Grandpa.” But he really couldn’t bring himself to say it. Mr. Yamamoto was about the same age as Coach Washijō, yet he looked unexpectedly healthy.

Ryosuke leaned over the counter and moved closer. “Mr. Yamamoto, did you know anyone at Shiratorizawa who could do a hook serve?”

Yamamoto froze for a moment, then looked Ryosuke up and down. He looked slim, but his muscles were compact. He’d heard from Washijō that the kid played well.

But a hook serve…

Yamamoto’s expression turned serious. “Kid, let me tell you—this isn’t something you can practice casually. If you’re not careful, you’ll get injured.”

Ryosuke’s eyes lit up. “So that means you do know someone who can do a hook serve, right?”

The cat’s comprehension skills were top-tier.

Yamamoto’s mouth twitched. “Have you told Washijō about this?”

Ryosuke guiltily shifted the topic. “Mr. Yamamoto, just tell me who that person is, okay?”

Yamamoto looked at him, amused and exasperated, and stayed silent. Ryosuke immediately deflated. “I didn’t tell Coach Washijō. And you won’t tell him either, right? I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Seeing that Yamamoto still wasn’t responding, Ryosuke grew anxious. “You’re going to tell him, aren’t you? Coach Washijō definitely won’t let me practice then, Mr. Yamamoto~”

His voice even dragged out into a whiny, pleading tone.

Yamamoto sighed. Kids these days—why were they all so stubborn? He spoke earnestly. “You’re about to go on a training camp. After you get back, I’ll take you to meet him.
“He’s not my friend, but a junior—just a few years older than you. We’ll go after the camp.”

“Ah—but after the camp, IH is only a few months away. What if there isn’t enough time to practice then?”

Yamamoto rubbed Ryosuke’s head. “Young people shouldn’t be so impatient. If this time doesn’t work out, there’ll be a next time. You’ll have many next times. Always practice only after making sure your body is healthy.
“Don’t end up like that old man Washijō! Stubborn as a mule—trained like his life depended on it when he was young, played while injured, and wrecked his body!”

The more he spoke, the more fired up Yamamoto became. Ryosuke watched him with curiosity. Hearing stories about Coach Washijō from his former teammates always felt strangely fascinating.

“Mr. Yamamoto, let’s add each other on LINE. When I get back from camp, you have to take me to meet him, okay? And if you lie to me, I’ll tell Coach Washijō you were badmouthing him!”

Yamamoto pulled out his phone. “Hey, you brat, threatening me now?
“Relax. Mr. Yamamoto’s got this.”

He raised a thumbs-up and patted his chest, signaling that the matter was fully taken care of.

Only then did Ryosuke finally feel at ease and head home.