Chapter 54: Training Camp 17

The group dragged themselves along the road for ages, their steps heavy, each one more exhausting than the last.

Reon finally couldn’t take it anymore. He stepped forward, grabbed Ryosuke by the arm, and pulled him along, forcing him to walk faster.

Ryosuke wore a miserable expression but reluctantly picked up the pace.

At last, they reached the door to the team doctor’s office.

Everyone gathered outside, whispering and murmuring among themselves.

“Ryosuke, you go. Didn’t we just say that?” Kawanishi whispered in a low, breathy voice.

“What?! I never agreed to that!” Ryosuke bristled. These teammates were unbelievably unreliable.

“Tsk, you’re all so slow,” Yunohama muttered, watching the scene with exasperation. He walked up and knocked hard on the door.

With his other hand, he yanked Ryosuke right up to the entrance. Just as Ryosuke realized what was happening and turned around to protest—

The rest of the group scattered in a rush, hiding behind the wall.

Ryosuke: …………

Reon gave a thumbs-up. “Nice one, Yunohama. You’ve got guts.”

Tsutomu Goshiki looked at Yunohama and Ryosuke with eyes full of pure admiration, like he was staring at heroes.

Ryosuke felt his scalp tingle. He raised a trembling hand and knocked on the door, looking utterly pitiful, while silently cursing every single one of them in his heart.

The door suddenly flew open with a whoosh, a gust of wind rushing out with it.

Saito stood there, smiling warmly.

“What is it this time?”

Seeing that angelic smile, Ryosuke’s mind was instantly flooded with fear of being dominated by the fascia knife. He sneaked a glance backward and saw a few people in the shadows gesturing encouragement at him.

Taking a deep breath, he said, “I have something I’d like to ask you about.”

“Oh?” Saito raised an eyebrow, his gaze casually flicking toward the corner by the wall.
“Come in.”

Ryosuke stepped inside, nerves on edge.

The office was filled with a strong medicinal smell. The large desk was piled with documents, and behind the door stood a stark white skeleton model, its pale frame looking unsettlingly eerie.

Once Ryosuke entered, Saito closed the door.

Outside, the group exchanged looks. Tsutomu Goshiki tiptoed over to the door and pressed close to listen in. After hesitating for a moment, Yunohama followed him.

Inside the office, Ryosuke explained that he wanted to know whether some of his previous training methods might cause unexpected injuries to athletes. If possible, he hoped everyone could choose safer jumping techniques.

Saito understood immediately and gave Ryosuke a long, meaningful look. He really did seem like promising coaching material.

He rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a thick, old black notebook.

“Here. These are some of the rehabilitation training methods I used after I got injured. At your current age and stage, it’s already too late to make major changes—you’ll have to take things slowly.
These methods can reduce some of the strain on the legs and spine, but they take time. As for the changes to jumping technique you mentioned, I think that’s doable, but you’ll need to discuss the details with Coach Washijō.
There’s always loss and gain. What you’re lacking most right now is time.”

Saito delivered all of that in one breath, then sighed, picked up the hot tea on his desk, took a sip, and narrowed his eyes in satisfaction.

“Take the notebook back with you. Study it carefully. As for training, it’s best to discuss it properly.”

Ryosuke felt conflicted. He hadn’t expected Team Doctor Saito to agree so easily—nothing like the terrifying figure he’d imagined.

Seeing Ryosuke’s expression, Saito could easily guess what he was thinking. His thoughts were practically written on his face.

He let out a light snort of laughter. “If you don’t leave now, I’ll go get the fascia knife and give you another round of treatment.”

Ryosuke shuddered. Any lingering thoughts vanished instantly. He jumped to his feet so fast he knocked over the chair.

With an awkward laugh, he set the chair upright and bolted out the door like he was fleeing for his life.

Saito leaned back in his chair, sprawled out like a pancake, rubbing his aching knees.

“Young people… must be nice.”

Outside, everyone was waiting for Ryosuke. The moment he opened the door, Tsutomu Goshiki—who had been leaning against it—stumbled forward and dropped straight to his knees.

Yunohama’s outstretched hand froze in midair.

Ryosuke stared. “There’s really no need to greet me with such a grand gesture…”

Grumbling under his breath, Tsutomu Goshiki got up and walked away.

Yunohama and Ryosuke exchanged a look, both holding back laughter without saying a word.

Once the group regrouped, they crowded around Ryosuke. Seeing that he was still holding the notebook, Yamagata spoke up right away.

“So? How did it go?”

Ryosuke repeated everything Saito had said. As they headed back toward the dorms, the group discussed it along the way.

Kawanishi frowned thoughtfully. “So now the problem is—who’s going to talk to Coach Washijō about this?”

The moment he said it, everyone’s gaze shifted to Ryosuke.

Ryosuke took two steps back. “Nope. I already went once. I’m not going again.”

Yamagata slung an arm around Ryosuke’s neck. “Come on, we’re all on the same team. This is for everyone’s sake. Just make the sacrifice.”

Ryosuke struggled and shoved Yamagata’s arm away. “If that’s the case, shouldn’t this be handled by the captain?”

Ushijima looked up, confused, completely caught off guard by Ryosuke’s sudden betrayal.

“My friend?”

That puzzled tone made Ryosuke feel guilty. Who would want to bully a captain who looked so honest and clueless? But there was no helping it—whoever went would get yelled at.

Yunohama nodded in agreement. “I think Ryosuke’s right.”

Reon didn’t know how to deal with this either and covered his face, a headache coming on.

“Alright,” he said at last. “We’ll vote. We’ll include Satori and Shirabu too.”

The suggestion was met with general approval.

Ryosuke trailed behind, fidgeting, his mouth running nonstop. “Look, if I go talk to Coach Washijō, he’ll definitely think I’m just messing around. But you’re our ace, Captain. Coach Washijō wouldn’t have the heart to yell at you…”

Ushijima took a deep breath, turned around, and covered Ryosuke’s mouth.

“I understand. Stop talking.”

Ryosuke protested, flailing his arms, but his scrawny, chick-like limbs were no match for arms as thick as his own legs.

The group returned to the dorms in a noisy mess and found everyone already there.

Only then did Reon explain what had just happened. Shirabu had no objections at all—as long as Senior Ushijima agreed, he certainly wouldn’t refuse.

Tendo nodded cheerfully. “Ohhh, training? That’s my favorite.”

As for what he was really plotting, no one could say.

Eita Semi sat cross-legged on his bed, playing games casually. “I don’t mind either. Learning another technique is a good thing.”

“Alright, then. Let’s vote.”

Reon held up a stack of blank slips of paper.

“Write anyone’s name. Whoever gets the most votes goes to see Coach Washijō.”

Everyone grabbed a slip and scribbled away.

A few minutes later, Reon stared at the pile of papers on the floor, every single one bearing his name, completely speechless.

“Why me?! Someone explain this to me!”

He grabbed his hair in helpless rage, never imagining that spectating would somehow turn into self-destruction.

Yunohama was the first to speak. “If Ryosuke goes, he’ll definitely get yelled at. If the captain goes… who knows what he might say that would provoke Coach Washijō.”

Tendo reached out and gently patted Reon’s head. “Oh dear, there’s nothing to be done. In a way, Little Wakatoshi is kind of… single-celled. I really couldn’t bear to see Ryosuke get scolded.”

The last sentence was so quiet it was almost inaudible. Tendo’s gaze lingered on Ryosuke.

Noticing the look, Ryosuke lifted his head in confusion, only to see Tendo give him a mysterious smile.

Shirabu spoke in his usual flat, emotionless tone.
“Well, Reon, you are our mom, after all.”