Chapter 78: Learning

Over an hour later, Ryosuke was sprawled on the floor, completely unable to get back up.
His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, the raw soreness in his throat painfully clear, sweat streaming down his temples.
She was utterly exhausted. This coach was nothing short of a demon…

After being forced to do high-intensity serves for a full hour, his arms were so heavy he couldn’t lift them anymore. It was even worse than his usual back muscle training. Ryosuke felt like crying from sheer fatigue.

Udai stood there, deep in thought, looking at Ryosuke lying flat on the floor, unable to move.
Young people these days… their stamina really isn’t great. Just one hour…

If Ryosuke had heard that, he definitely would’ve bristled like an angry cat.
What do you mean, bad stamina?! An hour of full-power jump serves is basically the human limit!

Udai squatted beside him and waved a hand in front of his face.
“Hey, snap out of it. Don’t just lie there—get up and walk it off.”

Ryosuke groaned and hauled himself up, swaying like a wandering spirit as he loosened his body.

Udai sat off to the side, watching quietly until Ryosuke had finished moving around. Then she beckoned him over, patting the chair beside her to signal him to sit.

Ryosuke plopped down onto the small, child-sized chair, legs spread apart.

Only then did Udai speak.
“Practicing a hook serve is a very difficult thing, you know.”

Ryosuke wiped away the sweat that had poured down during his cooldown.
“Even if it’s hard, I still have to practice.”

The stubborn determination in his eyes made Udai pause.

With a soft chuckle, Udai said,
“Before you start, tell me—why do you want to practice the hook serve?”

Ryosuke tilted his head, clearly confused by the question.
“Because the hook serve has a high scoring rate, and it’s rare. You hardly ever see it in big tournaments anymore.”

Udai nodded.
“The hook serve has a lot of drawbacks.”

As she spoke, she grasped Ryosuke’s arm and tapped from his shoulder down to his upper arm.

“If your form is wrong, or you practice for a long time without proper protection, you could end up with arm injuries.
And it places very high demands on your physical condition. You’re honestly too fragile—you need to build muscle and arm strength first.”

Fragile?

Ryosuke thought about the intense training he’d been doing these past few days. After all that, he was still being called fragile?

Apparently his expression was too easy to read, because Udai burst out laughing.

“Physical improvement isn’t just about training,” Udai said, counting on her fingers.
“Diet, sleep, and mindset are all essential too. And judging by your build, I’m guessing you’re a picky eater.”

Ryosuke: “……”

So how exactly did Senior Udai figure that out from just one hour of serving?

Ryosuke stood up and bowed deeply.
“Please guide me, Senpai!”

Udai patted his shoulder.
“Relax. I never go back on my word.”

She even gave Ryosuke a playful wink.

The two talked for quite a while. Udai explained that from now on, Ryosuke would come here to train every evening after school. Today was just a basic introduction to theory.

Ryosuke listened carefully, nodding along.

Watching Udai speak so confidently and freely, a thought slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“So… you really are the Small Giant?”

“Yes.”

“Eh? Did I say that out loud?”

“Hahahahaha!”
Udai doubled over laughing, clutching her stomach. What was this kid? He didn’t seem like a Shiratorizawa player at all. How could that ferocious Shiratorizawa team produce someone this airheaded?

Ryosuke panicked and hurriedly apologized.
“I’m sorry! S-Senior, I’m really sorry! That was so rude!”

Udai wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, still smiling.
“It’s fine. I’m not that fragile. I’m just surprised there’s still someone who recognizes me.”

Hearing that, Ryosuke lit up.
“Even though you didn’t go pro after graduating, that Spring High four years ago was unforgettable!
And the life you have now looks really good too—you can tell how happy you are just from your smile!”

Udai froze, momentarily at a loss for words.

Those memories she had deliberately buried were suddenly dragged out by the boy’s honest words. What should’ve sounded sharp and painful instead became firm, wholehearted affirmation.

Since graduating, Udai had heard far too many comments.

“What a shame…”
“He was just a little short, but he really tried.”
“Such a pity—already short, and then he injured his leg. Hahaha.”
…

Pity, disgust, schadenfreude—those words piled up like a mountain, pressing down on her until she could barely breathe.

She wanted to tell them:
Losing is fine. Getting injured is fine.
Just… please don’t pity me.

Udai snapped back to the present, her expression soft beyond belief.

“Of course,” she said gently.
“I’m the Small Giant. Even if I can’t jump anymore, I’m still the Small Giant.”

She reached out to pat Ryosuke’s shoulder. Ryosuke obediently lowered his head, and Udai ruffled his small tuft of curly hair with a few firm strokes.

“Go on back now. Remember to be on time tomorrow—and don’t get lost.”

Ryosuke nodded dazedly. For just a moment, it felt like he’d seen that unstoppable ace spiker on the court again.

Somewhere deep down, he felt like he’d grasped something profound, something hard to put into words.

If Udai had to sum it up simply, it would be this:
Even if one day I can no longer jump, even if I’m no longer involved in volleyball professionally—as long as I still remember the days I spent with my teammates and volleyball, my heart will be at peace.

Udai had devoted the first half of her life entirely to volleyball. She had done so willingly, as if she’d spent a lifetime alongside it. To her, volleyball was her closest friend.

Watching Ryosuke’s figure fade into the distance, Udai smiled without realizing it.
Kids these days really are growing up.

Shaking her head, she began tidying up the gym.

Ryosuke trudged along slowly, exhausted to the bone. His arms still wouldn’t lift.

Without meaning to, he started reflecting.
Was he really that fragile? Couldn’t even handle an hour of serving?

No. That wouldn’t do.
He couldn’t say he couldn’t do it. He needed to train harder.

In an instant, his fighting spirit ignited.

“Iwa-chan, isn’t that a new Shiratorizawa first-year?”

Oikawa, in the middle of playing volleyball, spotted Ryosuke immediately.

“Should I throw a sack over his head or something? Shiratorizawa kids are never good news!”

Iwaizumi, rhythmically bouncing the ball, clenched his fist.
“Hey! Idiot, don’t do anything illegal, okay?”

Seeing the fist the size of a sandbag right in front of him, Oikawa grumbled in protest but ultimately shut up.

Still, he fumed internally.
Damn it! Shiratorizawa just keeps getting stronger! Next time, I’ll crush Little Ushiwaka for sure!

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes at Oikawa’s expression.
“You’d better drop those dangerous thoughts.”

“Huh? Iwa-chan, can you read minds now?”

Ryosuke, already far away, knew nothing about any of this. His thoughts were elsewhere.

He loved volleyball, and he had talent—but he’d never truly polished himself for the sake of the sport. His training had always been driven purely by passion.

Only today did he realize he’d been deliberately avoiding things: avoiding hardship, avoiding effort, muddling along…
After all, he was already good. Everything else didn’t seem to matter.

Thinking about Senior Udai’s quiet perseverance and sportsmanship—about all the people who had bled and been injured for volleyball—what exactly were they holding on to?

He kept thinking about it on the way back. He didn’t find an answer, but he saw himself more clearly with every step. The more he thought, the more shaken he became.

It turned out he’d been hiding in his comfort zone all along.

Once he understood that, guilt and sadness welled up together, his face burning hot.

If it were Washijō, he wouldn’t have said much. Ryosuke’s reluctance to endure hardship was something he’d always seen clearly.

Ryosuke had grown up surrounded by comfort. Even after starting volleyball, his talent gave him an advantage. All Washijō could do was push him from other angles, trying little by little to straighten out his mindset.

So when Washijō noticed Ryosuke’s change a few days later, he was utterly stunned.
How did this kid suddenly figure it out?