Chapter 50: Training Camp 13

Ryosuke rubbed his reddened cheek, his gaze full of grievance, while Kawanishi stiffly turned his head away.

On the court, the score kept seesawing back and forth. As the set neared its end, the two teams were locked in a fierce standoff, so intense that even the spectators could feel the thick, explosive tension in the air.
Neither side gave an inch, teeth clenched, tangled together like wild beasts, each trying to tear a chunk of flesh from the other.

Kiyoomi Sakusa bounced the ball in his hand with a sharp thud. The Kamomedai players all felt a string tighten in their chests as they searched for a way to break through Itachiyama’s defense.
Sakusa took a few steps back. His jump serve flew out, wrapped in the wind drifting through the gym, carrying his signature heavy rotation—so sharp and deceptive that it was hard to tell where to receive it.

Kamomedai’s libero in the backcourt stared at the ball like a hawk, eyes locked on its flight.
Everyone else sprinted toward the projected landing point.

“I’ve got it!”
At the shout, the Kamomedai players stopped and returned to their positions.

This wasn’t being ordered around—it was trust in their libero.

The slightly hunched libero pinpointed the landing spot in an instant. He stretched out his arms and dug the ball from below.

“Whoa, an underhand dig—this libero’s got guts,” Yamagata couldn’t help but mutter.

On the court, the libero fought to control the force of the receive, straining his arms to keep the ball from flying out.
It felt like taking a thousand-pound hit head-on.

“Nice! Great receive!”
Kourai Hoshiumi, clearly fired up, shouted loudly.

The first pass wasn’t perfect, but the setter rushed in to cover, and everything flowed naturally, smooth and seamless.
Kourai Hoshiumi had already started his approach early, itching to hammer down an over-the-net spike.

Reon let out a sigh. “This one’s probably getting dug.”

Kawanishi leaned over the back of his chair and poked Reon in the neck.
“What makes you say that?”

“Hoshiumi’s strong, but he’s still young. Not much experience. Just watch—those Itachiyama guys haven’t even started their acting yet.”

Sure enough, Itachiyama’s two middle blockers quickly shifted and pretended to form a block in one spot. Hoshiumi narrowed his eyes and swung toward the seemingly unguarded left side.

In the next instant, the two blockers flashed into place right in front of him.

“Whoa! A timing shift—haven’t seen a team use that in a match in ages,” Yamagata exclaimed, admiration creeping into his voice.
“Itachiyama’s mental game is really solid.”

Completely caught off guard, Kourai Hoshiumi barely managed to turn his overhand spike into a soft tip at the last moment.

“Man, humans really don’t have limits. That short guy jumped even higher,” Yunohama commented calmly.

“Impressive adaptability,” Keiji Akaashi praised, having wandered over at some point, with Kotaro Bokuto peeking around behind him.

“Ah! Ryosuke!” Kotaro Bokuto turned around excitedly and waved.

“You guys here to watch the match too?” Ryosuke asked casually, only for Keiji Akaashi to answer with complete seriousness.

“No. We’re here to scout the enemy.”

“…Don’t say something like that so matter-of-factly.”

Ryosuke was left speechless. What was with these people? Why were they all so weird?

As he was thinking that, someone tugged at the hem of his shirt. He turned around to see Tsutomu Goshiki looking up at him.

“What about the rest of Kamomedai? You’ve only talked about a few of their key players.”

Ryosuke and Yunohama both looked at him in surprise. Normally, whenever they talked about this stuff, Goshiki was either zoning out or just watching the game with a bored expression.

Unexpected. Even single-celled Goshiki had realized the importance of knowing the enemy.

Ryosuke sighed inwardly, freed his shirt from Goshiki’s grip, and began explaining with renewed enthusiasm.

“The libero who just dug Sakusa’s serve is Keiichirō Kanbayashi. He’s a third-year. He used to be a bench player and only got on court occasionally. Kamomedai puts a lot of emphasis on blocking, so their ground defense has to be solid.
Kanbayashi can’t quite compare to Itachiyama’s Komori-senpai, but he never flinches from any ball coming straight at him.”

Ryosuke took a sip of water, ready to continue, when he noticed Goshiki had somehow pulled out a small notebook and was scribbling furiously with a pen.

Yunohama and Ryosuke exchanged baffled looks. Ryosuke reached out and pressed a hand to Goshiki’s forehead.

“No fever.”

“Huh?!” Goshiki felt deeply offended. His ears turned red as he explained awkwardly,
“They’re really strong… If I write it all down, we can target them more precisely…”

The last part was so quiet that even Yunohama, right next to him, almost couldn’t hear it. He rolled his eyes.

“Go on, write it down. We still have a lot to learn.”

Yunohama deliberately said “we,” not “I.” Deep down, he knew he also needed to learn from these opponents who never backed down.

Ryosuke tightened the cap on his bottle and continued.

“The other middle blocker, the one standing next to Gao Hakuba, is Kazuyoshi Bessho. He’s also a first-year, like us. It looks like he’s already showing some promise in blocking, which is why Hirugami’s been guiding him closely.
They’re probably grooming him to be the next core of their blocking system. Their style’s different from ours—they mostly use group blocks with three or even four people. Looks like they’re aiming to build an iron wall.”

Without anyone noticing, Keiji Akaashi and Kotaro Bokuto had also gathered around, listening with great interest. Reon watched Ryosuke’s animated explanation with a satisfied expression.

At that moment, Yamagata spoke up from behind them.
“Ryosuke’s covered a lot already, so I’ll add one more. Kamomedai’s captain, Aikichi Suwa. He’s a player I’ve been keeping an eye on for a while. His jump float serve is downright nasty.
Just serving alone, he can shave off a lot of points. He looks pretty ordinary, but his playstyle is extremely steady—like a bowl filled to the brim with water, carried without spilling a drop.”

“Yeah,” Kawanishi added, slinging an arm over Yamagata’s shoulder. “His weakness is defense. His receiving isn’t anything special by Kamomedai’s standards.”

“Even so, we can’t let our guard down,” Reon warned, worried the kids might get complacent.

“Yeah, yeah, Reon, you’re like our mom!”

Reon immediately pinched Yamagata’s thigh, only letting go after he yelped.

“As for the others—like Izuru Nozawa. His skills are sharp and very solid, and he loves messing with people’s heads using words.”

At that, Keiji Akaashi nodded in agreement.
“Yeah, he’s really nasty. When our team played Kamomedai, Nozawa was specifically assigned to interfere with Bokuto-senpai.”

Kotaro Bokuto suddenly remembered and pointed at Nozawa on the court.
“Akaashi! He’s the one who said I couldn’t hit a super sharp inside cross!”

“Quiet, Bokuto-senpai,” Keiji Akaashi said quickly, grabbing Kotaro Bokuto by the collar and smiling apologetically at the Shiratorizawa players.

Kotaro Bokuto wilted on the spot, looking utterly dejected, his wild hair almost losing its shine.

Keiji Akaashi patted him soothingly. “Bokuto-senpai, you’re not supposed to badmouth people behind their backs.”

“Then I’ll say it to his face!”

Keiji Akaashi froze.

Reon burst out laughing. Keiji Akaashi really was like Bokuto’s mom.
Then he thought about himself—
Wait, how do I have the nerve to laugh at others? I’m basically playing both dad and mom here too.
Instantly, he felt a deep sense of kinship with Keiji Akaashi, his gaze growing even more gentle, practically radiating fatherly warmth.

Keiji Akaashi felt that affectionate stare and shuddered.
“Akaashi, what’s wrong? Are you cold?” Kotaro Bokuto chirped worriedly.

“Hmph, I definitely won’t be affected by these guys,” Goshiki said, twirling his pen and lifting his nose proudly.

Yunohama hesitated, then decided to let it go. Better not crush the kid’s confidence. Usually, just a few words from Ryosuke were enough to set Goshiki off—maybe his self-awareness was a bit… optimistic.

Ryosuke stared straight into Yunohama’s eyes.
“Yunohama-kun, don’t talk with your eyes.”

The meaning was way too obvious.

“Ah, sorry.” There wasn’t a shred of sincerity in it.

Ryosuke sighed and continued his diligent explanation.

“There’s no one else who really needs special attention. Kamomedai’s bench isn’t very deep either—no standout substitutes. These starters are the main force; the rest are still developing.”

“Ryosuke, if you ever stop playing volleyball, you should become a commentator. You’d be perfect for it,” Kawanishi suddenly said after being quiet for a long time.

Reon smacked him on the forehead.
“What kind of thing is that to say? Have some faith.”

Keiji Akaashi’s expression darkened slightly. Shiratorizawa really was full of hidden talent—one first-year could analyze things this thoroughly. He glanced at his own ace and sighed softly.

“Itachiyama changed formations,” Ushijima said suddenly. Everyone’s attention snapped back to the court.

Itachiyama had already lost the first set. For the second set, six players took the court. On closer look, Tsukasa Iizuna—who could play as a setter—had been subbed out of that role and moved to libero.
Only Kaoru Kishimoto was setting.

“What kind of formation is this?” Goshiki asked, eyes shining with curiosity.

Reon explained, “It’s a 5–1 system. One setter, and everyone else focuses on attacking.”

“Then what about the libero?” Goshiki was completely confused. “Liberos can’t attack.”

Yunohama ruffled Goshiki’s not-very-large head and began explaining carefully.

“In a 5–1 system, only one player serves as the setter, whether they’re in the front row or back row.
When the setter is in the back row, the team has three front-row attackers. When the setter is in the front row, there are only two. Altogether, that makes five attackers in rotation.
One big advantage of the 5–1 is that there are always three attacking options when setting. If the setter uses this well, the opposing middle blockers won’t have enough time to form a double block with the wing spikers, which increases the chance of scoring.”

Goshiki’s eyes had already turned into spirals—clearly, he didn’t understand a thing.

Yunohama had no choice but to keep going.

“Another advantage is that when the setter is in the front row, they can use second-ball attacks. That messes with the opponent’s blockers even more—our setter might spike, or might set to any of the attackers.
A good setter understands this deeply. They don’t just attack on the second touch or run quicks; they actively confuse the opponent. There’s also a double-libero strategy now, mainly to strengthen first receive.”

Goshiki still looked lost.
“Can I really learn something this complicated?”

Ryosuke sighed and looked at him with pity, like he was staring at his own son. Back when Coach Washijō explained formations to him, he’d looked just as blank.

Ryosuke reorganized his thoughts and summarized it in the simplest way possible.

“It’s easy. First, remember the positioning rules—you know those, right? If you don’t even know that much, don’t ask me.”

Goshiki hurriedly grabbed his sleeve.
“I know, I know! Between front and back positions, there’s only a front–back relationship, no left–right.
Between left and right positions, there’s only left–right, no front–back.”

“Good. Then it’s simple. First, decide the front-row outside hitter’s position. If the first pass isn’t perfect, you still need a front-row attacker at position four. Usually, there are three to four players positioned for first receive.
The setter should move as little as possible and avoid blocking the receiver’s line of sight.
The middle blocker and opposite need to squeeze into the gaps. Does that make sense?”

Goshiki nodded blankly.
“Kind of.”

Ryosuke let out a breath of relief.

“But not completely.”

Ryosuke’s breath caught again.

He gently rubbed Goshiki’s head.
“It’s fine. Kid, as long as we can play volleyball, that’s enough.”

That single sentence made Yamagata snort with laughter. Goshiki, embarrassed and annoyed, huffed loudly.

Reon smiled.
“Alright, stop teasing him. This stuff really is abstract. Hand me the notebook—I’ll draw it out.”

Goshiki trotted over obediently, still huffing at Ryosuke.

Ryosuke smiled innocently.

Keiji Akaashi sighed to himself. Other people’s underclassmen were really impressive. He glanced at his own ace.
…Well, Bokuto-senpai doesn’t need to learn this stuff.

Reon took the notebook and started drawing diagrams, everyone crowding around.

“For example, a 5–1 rotation where the setter is in position six.”

========== Net ==========
Outside / Opposite / Middle
Libero / Setter / Outside

Reon tapped the notebook with his pen.

“Step one: place the front-row outside hitter. They should stand on the left and slightly back to prepare for first receive.”

=====================================
Outside (Front)

“Step two: position the three players responsible for first receive.”

======================================
Outside (Front) .............................. Outside (Back)
.............................. Libero

“Note: the outside hitter and libero have a front–back relationship, so even if they line up horizontally, the outside hitter must stand slightly forward.”

“Step three: place the setter. The setter stands between the libero and the back-row outside hitter, behind the opposite.”

======================================
.............................. Setter
Outside (Front) .............................. Outside (Back)
.............................. Libero

Goshiki’s eyes lit up.
“So the setter has a left–right relationship with both the libero and the back-row outside!”

Reon tapped his forehead lightly with the pen.
“That’s basically it. Ushijima, you take over.”

Ushijima took the pen and drew another diagram in front of Goshiki.

======================================
.............................. Opposite
.............................. Setter
.............................. Middle
Outside (Front) .............................. Outside (Back)
.............................. Libero

He looked at Goshiki expectantly.

Goshiki swallowed and stammered,
“Last step: place the remaining middle and opposite. Both find their spots based on the current positions.
The middle stands to the right of the opposite and in front of the back-row outside.
The opposite stands in front of the setter, to the right of the front-row outside. Since the opposite usually attacks from position two, they should stand as far right as possible.
…Is that right?”

Ushijima raised a thumbs-up.

Goshiki’s face flushed red with excitement. He finally got it. So cool. So happy.