Chapter 46: Training Camp 9

After hearing through the grapevine that there would be a libero meeting tonight, Ryosuke was buzzing with excitement all day.

They crushed several schools with their blocking. Many players didn’t even get a chance to touch the ball—almost every blocked shot was claimed by Tendo and Ryosuke.

Tendo was using in-game blocking situations to teach Ryosuke how to develop a unique “blocking instinct” of his own.

Coming off the court, Yamagata let out a sigh. “Ryosuke’s blocking has gotten way stronger these past two days.”

Hearing that, Tendo proudly slung an arm around Ryosuke’s shoulders.

“Hmph. You should take a look at who’s been coaching Ryosuke.”

Ryosuke nodded happily. If it weren’t for Tendo-senpai’s guidance, he might have overlooked just how important blocking really was.

Ever since Ryosuke blocked one of Ushijima’s spikes during the camp, Eita Semi had been watching him closely.

At first, he thought it was just luck, but Ryosuke’s blocking accuracy kept climbing. That was far beyond coincidence.

On the team, only Tendo could casually practice with the ball during downtime and help out with blocking drills.
It wasn’t that the others couldn’t block—it just wasn’t nearly as precise.

Semi finally spoke up. “But no matter how you look at it, Satori’s intuition is basically guesswork, right? Ordinary people can’t really learn his style of blocking.”

“Guess?”

Ryosuke tilted his head toward Tendo, instantly thinking of the nickname Shiratorizawa’s fans gave him during matches—the Guess Monster.

“Senpai… do you block based on intuition?”

Ryosuke had never even considered that. Tendo had never mentioned it to him.

“Huh?”

Everyone froze.

“What, Satori never told you?” Shirabu, passing by, couldn’t help chiming in.

Ryosuke was completely lost. “Told me what?”

All the questioning looks turned toward Tendo.

Under everyone’s gaze, Tendo cleared his throat and spoke with unmistakable pride.

“I do rely on instinct when I block. But instinct only gets you about an eighty percent success rate. Every time I block with Ushijima, one or two balls still slip through.”

Ushijima thought about it, then nodded seriously.
“That’s true.”

“Exactly. Instinct isn’t everything in blocking. Sometimes my intuition is wrong too.”

“But what does that have to do with Ryosuke?” At some point, everyone had gathered around to listen. Tsutomu Goshiki asked earnestly.

“Don’t rush. I’m getting there.”

Tendo tossed a volleyball lightly in his hand.

“Did you notice? In the practice match when Ryosuke first reported to Shiratorizawa, he could predict the landing point of almost every ball ahead of time.”

“Now that you mention it… yeah,” Reon said, recalling that match.

Ryosuke suddenly understood, remembering the drills Tendo had put him through earlier.

“So our Ryosuke-kun either has a special talent like mine, or he observes things unbelievably closely.
Later, when I trained with him, I realized—it’s a talent. A visual talent that lets him see an incredible amount of detail.”

Kawanishi stared in disbelief. “That’s impossible, isn’t it?”

Tendo shook his head with a sigh and dragged Yunohama over. Yunohama looked utterly confused as he was pulled into the conversation.

“Earlier, Ryosuke-kun went to a haunted house with Yunohama and the others. They got separated from Goshiki. A few days later, I asked Yunohama about it, and he told me something strange.”

Yunohama pushed up his glasses, as if remembering it clearly now.

“After we got separated, even though the haunted house was pitch black, Ryosuke avoided every obstacle perfectly. He even told me there was a rat hiding in a dark corner.”

Ryosuke sucked in a sharp breath, the little cowlick on his head standing straight up.

“Wait… you guys can’t do that?”

“Of course not!!”

Semi and Kawanishi shouted at the same time.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Reon covered his face.

Ryosuke fidgeted with his jersey, rubbing his fingers together and avoiding everyone’s eyes.
“Because… it seems weird. And Coach Washijō told me not to tell anyone.”

Tendo raised an eyebrow. “Coach Washijō?”

“Yeah. Back then, Coach Washijō even took me to the hospital.”

Goshiki asked anxiously, “What did the doctor say?”

“They said it’s a genetic thing, not an illness,” Ryosuke said awkwardly.
“Coach Washijō also told me a lot of people are like this. I thought you all were too.”

Shirabu couldn’t help complaining, “How could that be? If anything, maybe one or two people. Satori’s intuition barely counts as one.”

“Alright, back on topic,” Tendo said, clapping his hands.
“During training, I explained every blocking technique to Ryosuke in the simplest way possible.
Then I started training his blocking instinct. I’d have a few people randomly toss balls over the net, and Ryosuke had to spike every single one back.

“After a while, no matter the power, direction, or angle, he could touch the ball—and even jump before it landed.
Then we replaced spiking with proper blocking form and rules, added a bit of technique… tell me, isn’t that the strongest blocking weapon there is?”

Tendo spread his arms wide, pride written all over his face.

A one-of-a-kind blocking style, personally forged for Shiratorizawa—it was enough to make anyone’s blood boil with excitement.

Reon kept spinning the volleyball in his hands, as if he’d just heard something unbelievable. He always knew Satori was different, but he never imagined he was this incredible.

“Wow, Satori… you’re a huge contributor here. Seriously… this is… amazing.”

Yamagata stood there blankly, unable to find the words.

Ryosuke, the one at the center of it all, felt conflicted.

“So… you knew all along that I was different?” His carefully hidden secret had been exposed, leaving him a little deflated.

“Hahahaha. I knew we were the same kind from your very first match, little Ryosuke,” Tendo said cheerfully.
“Ball sense and technique can be polished—but talent like this isn’t something everyone has.”

As if he knew exactly what Ryosuke was about to say, Tendo continued without missing a beat.

“Don’t feel awkward about it. This isn’t cheating—it’s the best gift the heavens could give you. The sky itself is shoving food into your mouth. How could you complain about that?”

Hearing this, Semi snapped, “What do you mean complain?! If I had that kind of talent, I’d be telling everyone!”

Ryosuke gave an embarrassed laugh. This topic had come up before, when he was younger—Coach Washijō had talked to him about it back then. At the time, Ryosuke thought it was all nonsense.

It wasn’t until he saw someone else with undeniable talent that he finally understood. Talent alone didn’t decide everything, and that ridiculous guilt he’d been carrying… no one else even cared about it.

Ryosuke wiped the sweat from his hands on his jersey. “Thank you. Really.”

Tendo rubbed his head gently, smiling without saying a word.

Thank you for what, exactly? Tendo’s guidance? Semi’s blunt words? Or the trust of everyone at Shiratorizawa?

No one thought Ryosuke was cheating. He was the only one trapped by that knot in his heart.

“That’s seriously so cool!”

After a long silence, Goshiki’s energetic voice burst out.

He stared at Ryosuke like he was looking at something incredible.

“I want to be like that tooooo! I’m so jealous!”

“Honestly, you should’ve gone into archery… why come here and torment us?”

Reon, who had suffered endlessly at Ryosuke’s hands, let two clear streams of tears fall.

He’d always known Ryosuke wasn’t normal—but this was just too cruel. In just one short month, he’d already tasted the pain of getting completely shut down more times than he could count.

Ryosuke gave a sheepish grin.

“That’s because Reon-senpai is the only one who never gives up and keeps challenging me to block your spikes.”

Reon sniffed, utterly defeated.