Chapter 99 - 100

Chapter 99

“That’s Ushijima from Shiratorizawa, right? He just feels different.”

“The one next to him—I’ve never seen him before. Is he a Shiratorizawa freshman?”

“Probably. Wonder how strong he is.”

………

People were always enthusiastic when it came to discussing the tournament favorites.

Ryosuke followed behind Ushijima. Even if he didn’t want to listen, he was too close—every word drifted straight into his ears.

He shrank behind Ushijima helplessly, trying to use him to block himself from view.

The corridor outside the gym was lined with reporters holding cameras, conducting interviews.

Most of the seeded teams weren’t playing on the first day. The reporters were there to cover the tournament’s opening, and a few were hoping to spot a dark horse team—but most found nothing.

A short-haired girl with a camera suddenly caught fragments of conversation about Shiratorizawa in the crowd. Someone mentioned that Shiratorizawa’s ace had come to watch. She immediately looked around excitedly, only catching a flash of purple-and-white uniform disappearing into the crowd.

She hurried after them, but still lost them.

Lowering her head in frustration, she regretted missing the chance to interview Shiratorizawa.

The arena buzzed with noise. The three-day match schedule was posted on a bulletin board in the lobby.

Ryosuke tugged at Ushijima’s sleeve, gesturing toward it.

Ushijima glanced back, and the two stood in front of the board together.

There were two matches at 9 a.m., held in two different venues, and another one scheduled at noon. With the tight timeline, the organizers had squeezed the matches together, not even sparing the lunch hour.

Ryosuke spotted Karasuno’s name in the 9 a.m. bracket—they were facing Ohgiminami.

He looked up at Ushijima. “What’s Ohgiminami like?”

Ushijima searched his memory but couldn’t recall much. If he couldn’t remember a school, it usually meant they were knocked out in the first or second round.

He shook his head. “Average.”

A perfectly fair evaluation.

Avoiding the curious looks from those around them, Ryosuke said quietly, “Let’s go to Court B first. I think Karasuno is pretty good.”

Ushijima nodded without objection.

Most schools avoided high-intensity training the day before or on the day of a match to preserve their condition. Shiratorizawa was no exception.

Ushijima felt restless if he didn’t train for a day, so before matches he would watch games—live or recorded—to reignite his competitive spirit.

An ace had to be ready at all times.

They arrived at Court B. It wasn’t very large, about the same size as Shiratorizawa’s gym.

Teams assigned to this court usually didn’t draw much of a crowd, especially since it was the first match of the prefectural tournament. The larger venue attracted more spectators.

That created two extremes—one nearly empty, the other packed.

Ryosuke and Ushijima found seats.

After scanning the area, Ryosuke realized Court B was surprisingly crowded this year.

The first few rows near the court were almost full. Spectators of all ages chatted freely.

“You guys here to watch Karasuno too?”

“Yeah! You a Karasuno fan?”

“Not really. I just thought their poster was interesting.”

“To be fair, Karasuno hasn’t been doing well these past few years.”

…………

Behind Ushijima sat an elderly man wearing sunglasses, holding a newspaper and waiting impatiently for the match to begin.

The moment he heard that last comment, he shot to his feet and pointed at the two speakers.

“What nonsense are you spouting? You’re the ones who are useless! Your whole family is useless!”

Ushijima, who had been spacing out, jumped slightly and looked up blankly, having no idea what just happened.

The two who had been talking froze. Embarrassed and too awkward to apologize, they pursed their lips guiltily.

“Oh? Karasuno still has fans? Hah.”

“Say that again!”

Faced with the old man’s furious glare and the surrounding stares, the two quickly scurried off.

It all happened so fast that Ryosuke didn’t even have a chance to say anything.

The old man huffed and sat back down, returning to his newspaper.

Ryosuke set his things down and turned to Ushijima.

“Senpai, I’m going to the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

Ushijima nodded and patted Ryosuke’s bag, indicating it was safe with him.

Ryosuke left the stands.

He honestly didn’t understand why outsiders thought Ushijima-senpai was scary. He was straightforward and easy to understand.

Lost in thought, Ryosuke arrived at the restroom—

—and immediately spotted that familiar orange head at the entrance, arguing with someone who looked like a delinquent.

“We’re definitely going to win—Karasuno will win!”

The person across from him looked Hinata up and down as if he’d just heard a joke.

“Hah? You? The ones who’ll win are Ohgiminami. Kids should just go home and do their homework.”

Only then did Ryosuke notice that the “delinquent-looking” guy was actually wearing Ohgiminami’s uniform. He just looked unusually rough for his age.

Hinata’s face flushed red with anger.

Ryosuke walked over and stood behind him, expression blank as he stared at the other player. He rested a hand on Hinata’s shoulder. Hinata turned around in confusion.

The person opposite them—Ohgiminami’s captain, Towada—broke out in cold sweat.

He had never imagined his trash talk would be witnessed by someone from Shiratorizawa. Their uniform was far too recognizable.

When Ryosuke didn’t smile, he looked somewhat like Ushijima—equally distant and unapproachable.

His usually crescent-shaped green cat eyes now held a sharp edge, the piercing gaze making it hard to meet his eyes.

Towada scratched his head awkwardly.

“W-Whatever. We’re definitely going to win!” he blurted, then bolted as if fleeing.

Hinata looked at Ryosuke in delight.

“Ryosuke, did you come to watch my game?!”

Ryosuke snapped out of it and smiled, nodding. “Yeah. Want me to walk you back?”

“Yeah, yeah!”

One tall and one short, they walked back together in easy harmony.

The bystanders in the hallway exchanged glances.

On Karasuno’s side, things were chaotic.

Daichi radiated dark energy. “Where did Hinata run off to now?!”

“That shorty went to the bathroom. He even threw up on the bus.”

Tsukishima held his water bottle, expressionless as he reported.

Sugawara smacked Tsukishima lightly at the waist with a grin. “Alright, alright, that’s enough.”

Tsukishima clicked his tongue and fell silent.

Kageyama crouched in a corner trimming his nails, trying to calm himself.

“Tanaka.”

“Nishinoya.”

“Shimizu-senpai is especially beautiful today.” x2

Nishinoya and Tanaka pressed their palms together devoutly, gazing at Kiyoko Shimizu as she organized the volleyballs. The radiant aura around her was blinding.

“Daichi-senpai, I’m back!”

Daichi turned toward the voice, dark aura gathering as he prepared to scold Hinata—then he spotted Ryosuke behind him.

His expression shifted instantly, twisting awkwardly.

Sugawara covered his eyes in mock horror. Asahi snickered quietly.

Daichi shot them both a fierce glare. What do you know? You can’t scold a kid in front of outsiders—that’ll just make him rebellious.

Ryosuke watched their silent exchange with amusement but said nothing. He simply nodded in greeting.

“Hope you get off to a strong start.”

Hinata’s eyes sparkled with admiration. So cool! As expected of Ryosuke—he even used such an impressive idiom!

Daichi grinned. “You too.”

Ryosuke ruffled Hinata’s hair. “Do your best. I’ll be watching from the stands. I’ll head back now.”

The encouragement filled Hinata with fighting spirit. The little crow lifted his chin proudly.

“Don’t worry! I’ll win!”

Only then did Ryosuke leave at ease.

On the way back, he suddenly realized something that annoyed him—Karasuno now had two female managers.

His own school didn’t even have one. In that sense, Karasuno was practically being treated like a powerhouse.

When he returned to his seat, he felt like he’d forgotten something again.

He lowered his head, thinking hard… what was it…?

But once the match began and both teams stepped onto the court, the thought vanished completely.

Ushijima didn’t quite understand why Ryosuke wanted to watch this match. Probably because he was friends with the Karasuno players.

Since it was a prefectural tournament, there were no commentators—only referees, ball boys, and spectators from various schools.

It was Hinata’s first time at the prefectural tournament. Stepping onto the orange court, he was so excited he couldn’t speak. He took a deep breath and fixed his eyes forward.

The Karasuno players exchanged looks, encouraging one another.

“Karasuno! Fight!”

The first set began. Karasuno’s starters were:

Tanaka, Kageyama, Tsukishima

Daichi, Asahi, Nishinoya

With limited depth and worried that Hinata might get carried away in the first set, they decided to keep him on the bench for now.

“Beeep—” The match officially started.

Ohgiminami won the serve in the pre-match draw. Their number one player stepped up to the service line, face serious.

“Nice serve!”

He took a deep breath and leapt, delivering a solid jump serve. It wasn’t outstanding, but it wasn’t bad either.

For Nishinoya, it was routine. He received it smoothly.

“Nice receive!”

Daichi shouted.

The first pass went to their ace, Asahi.

Ohgiminami didn’t know much about Karasuno. Last year, they’d had the misfortune of running into Shiratorizawa early and were eliminated immediately.

Asahi smashed the ball down hard.

Bang!

It struck the floor before the opposing side could react.

“Nice spike!”

An electrifying opening point.

Asahi carried the ball to the service line.

Ohgiminami clenched their teeth. That single point had already shown them—Karasuno was no third-rate team. Was last year’s tragedy about to repeat itself?

Bang!

A powerful jump serve crushed Ohgiminami’s morale.

From that moment on, Karasuno surged forward with unstoppable momentum, pushing the score to 20:15.

Ohgiminami seemed completely devoid of fighting spirit.

From the stands, Ushijima couldn’t understand the meaning of this match. It felt like volleyball played without any will.

Ryosuke seemed to sense his thoughts and explained quietly,

“I came to watch Karasuno. Their setter and that orange-haired middle blocker have a really amazing freak quick.”

Ushijima frowned slightly.

“Just keep watching.”

Ohgiminami’s defeat seemed inevitable. Yet, for some reason, just before the end of the first set, something ignited.

First, their number one dove desperately to save a ball flying out of bounds. Then their setter, who had stood stiffly moments ago, reignited with determination.

They managed to claw back two points at the end.

Towada stared at the volleyball on the floor, regret tangling in his chest.

He was an ordinary person, someone who drifted through life. A single point on the court wasn’t a point in life.

All this effort might only add one line to his future resume:

“Actively participated in club activities during high school.”

He was already a third-year.

What was left to spend?

Looking at his gritting teammates and the confused expressions of his underclassmen, Ohgiminami’s captain finally felt a sense of responsibility.

He threw himself into saving every point. As he dove, for a fleeting moment, he overlapped with the image of his seniors from years past…

Failure didn’t matter.

At least Towada knew one thing—he truly loved volleyball.

“Hah. That kid’s got some grit.”

The uncle behind Ushijima muttered to himself.

Ryosuke glanced back and nodded in agreement.

The first set was decided.

Karasuno secured it and gathered together, sharing their excitement.

“That captain’s not bad,” Daichi commented. Anyone capable of turning the tide couldn’t be weak.

Nishinoya popped up grinning. “Still nowhere near our ace.”

Asahi, suddenly dragged into it, shrank back and pretended not to hear.

“Well, our ace is just that delicate,” Sugawara added with a teasing smile.

Asahi, once again dragged into it, forced a bitter smile.

Everyone laughed kindly.

Ukai clapped his hands as he walked over.

“Keep it up—this is good! Nishinoya, be ready to switch with Hinata next set. Hinata’s engine’s warmed up, right?”

His gaze landed on the two smallest players.

Hinata suppressed his excitement and nodded.

“I’m ready, Coach!”

Karasuno’s faculty advisor, Takeda-sensei, stood off to the side, watching them with pride.

“The crows are about to take flight.”

Hitoka Yachi tilted her head, not quite understanding.

Shimizu pressed her lips together, smiling from the heart.

The sight nearly blinded Tanaka, who had been secretly watching her.

Tanaka pressed his palms together devoutly. With Shimizu-senpai here, Karasuno was invincible!

The second set began.

Kageyama stepped up to serve.

Later, Ryosuke had asked Oikawa about Kageyama’s serve and learned that Kageyama had indeed learned it from him. Oikawa had refused to admit it outright, but Ryosuke could tell between the lines that he actually thought Kageyama’s serve was good—he just couldn’t bring himself to say it directly.

Kageyama’s serve was also a powerful jump serve, nicknamed by Hinata as the “Killer Serve.”

It clearly carried traces of Oikawa’s style. A setter like that, given time, would become a formidable opponent.

Ryosuke was oddly enthusiastic about cultivating strong rivals for himself and Shiratorizawa.

Kageyama tossed the ball, took his approach, pushed off hard, and leapt.

Bang!

His palm struck the ball with a sharp crack.

The ball shot down onto Ohgiminami’s court.

Their libero couldn’t even keep up with its speed. Watching the ball hit the floor, his face turned pale.

“Nice serve, Kageyama!”

“Good job!”

Daichi and Tanaka praised him generously. With their taciturn, prickly teammate, encouragement worked best.

Ryosuke clearly saw Ushijima lean forward slightly after that serve.

For some reason, Ushijima-senpai had always been determined to recruit Oikawa to Shiratorizawa. Perhaps it was mutual respect between strong players.

Back when Shirabu was setting for Ushijima, he had once resented how highly Ushijima regarded Oikawa and developed a one-sided hostility toward him.

When the two met, they would argue like elementary schoolers, determined to win verbally.

Later, Shirabu realized that Ushijima admired every strong player equally. After that, he stopped quarreling with Oikawa. And Ushijima, too, stopped praising Oikawa’s abilities in front of Shirabu so bluntly.

It had taken repeated reminders from Reon and Tendō for Ushijima to understand that praising another team’s setter in front of his own was impolite.

The serve just now, so clearly bearing Oikawa’s imprint, finally made Ushijima take Kageyama seriously. 

...

Chapter 100

Kageyama’s serve scored cleanly—an untouched ace. Ohgiminami’s libero couldn’t even get a hand on it.

On Kageyama’s fourth serve, Ohgiminami’s libero finally went all in and barely managed to dig the ball up.

Daichi and Tanaka had been watching closely. The moment they saw the ball come up, they moved.

“Ohgiminami’s setter called out, “Nice receive!”

Well, as long as it was up, that was enough. Every ball was a chance.

The ball was sent to the middle blocker at position three for a spike, but Tsukishima, who had been stationed at the net, shut it down.

Watching the ball’s trajectory, Tsukishima jumped with both arms extended. The ball clipped his fingertips and flew off.

“One touch!”

“Nice!”

Daichi dug it up from the backcourt, and Kageyama moved into position to set. At that moment, all of Karasuno’s attackers rushed toward the net at once. Ohgiminami couldn’t tell who Kageyama would set to and stared anxiously at the charging players.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kageyama noticed Ohgiminami’s setter watching the back row. Several blockers had also been drawn to the right by Tanaka.

Number One’s heart jolted. “Watch the dump!”

But before the words had fully left his mouth—before the opposing setter could even react—Kageyama gave the ball a gentle push. It floated lightly over the net.

Players lunged in from every direction but couldn’t reach it. They ended up sprawled on the floor, staring blankly at Kageyama.

“Beep!” The referee signaled Karasuno’s point.

Ohgiminami’s coach sat in his chair, staring at the scoreboard with regret. Another first-round exit this year, it seemed. Timing and fate.

Even so, he called a timeout.

During the one-minute break, Ohgiminami’s players stood together in silence. They all understood their own limits.

The coach looked at their bowed heads and let out a heavy sigh.

“As long as you have no regrets. Ask yourselves—have you played up to the standard of your daily training?”

They exchanged glances, not knowing what to say.

...

On Karasuno’s side, after assessing the situation, Coach Ukai decided to switch Hinata and Nishinoya.

Hinata’s face flushed bright red with excitement when he heard the decision.

Daichi glanced at him. “Hinata, just treat this like practice. You, Kageyama, and Tanaka! The three of you are not allowed to get carried away!”

Tanaka bristled. “Huh? What does that have to do with me—Ow!”

Daichi smacked him hard on his shaved head.

“I’m talking about you! As a senior, you need to set an example!”

Tanaka huffed. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

After the timeout, they returned to the court.

Towada spotted the little shrimp who had provoked him in the bathroom earlier. The number “10” was printed boldly on his jersey as he bickered with his own setter while stepping onto the court.

“Ha! Hinata, you idiot! I’ll get the ball to you!”

“What if you mess up?!”

“What did you say?! Idiot, idiot! I don’t mess up!”

Hinata covered the cheek Kageyama had just pinched red, looking aggrieved. Of course he knew Kageyama wouldn’t mess up—but for some reason, he just couldn’t stop himself from saying it.

Towada’s temple twitched. Were these two really that good? They didn’t look reliable at all.

But once the rally started, Towada felt his body tense instinctively.

What the—why does that little guy feel like he’s about to devour us…?

The moment he stepped onto the court, Hinata was brimming with excitement. He forced himself to control his boiling blood, his gaze sharp as a raptor as he locked onto Ohgiminami’s players.

In the stands, Ryosuke smiled faintly. Seeing the confusion in Ushijima’s eyes, he explained, “You’ll see their Freak Quick soon. I really like it. I wonder if Yamagata-senpai can dig it.”

After Daichi’s serve crossed over, Ohgiminami’s libero received it. The weight of the ball felt completely different from what he was used to in practice.

So heavy!

The ball rebounded sharply upward.

Towada’s expression changed. “It’s going over!”

The two middle blockers hurried to the net to contest it. On the other side, Tsukishima shot up as well, pressing both hands against the ball.

Please. His blocking might be “average” (as if), but he’d never lost a joust. With a subtle twist of his wrists, the volleyball brushed against both opponents’ palms and rolled down softly.

There was no thud of it hitting the floor—the diving setter saved it with a fish-like dive.

“Nice save!”

“Yes!!”

The libero adjusted the pass, sending it back to the setter. The wing spiker leapt and drove down a textbook cross shot.

But Asahi Azumane picked it up from the back row.

Kageyama adjusted his positioning and, in that instant, locked eyes with Hinata.

They understood each other immediately.

Seeing Hinata dash toward the net, the two opposing blockers jumped to block.

But the ball never came. Hinata landed swiftly, then bolted in a wide arc toward the right side—so fast he was like a flash of lightning, completely shaking off the block.

The two blockers were left stunned.

Kageyama’s extraordinary spatial awareness allowed him to set a perfect back quick without even looking at Hinata—delivering the ball to the exact height, position, and timing.

After all, Kageyama knew Hinata’s speed better than anyone. The only thing that could keep up with him was the ball itself.

Having shaken the blockers, Hinata took his approach and leapt. His 325cm reach wasn’t an exaggeration.

Though Ryosuke’s reach was impressive too, there was still a noticeable height difference between them—and Hinata hadn’t even undergone systematic training yet.

“Boom!”

The ball grazed Towada’s ear and slammed into the court.

“Nice spike!”

“Way to go, you brat!”

The cheers drowned out Hinata.

Towada stood frozen. So when that little guy said, “We’re definitely going to win,” he hadn’t been joking.

But… what was that?

There’s no way a human could hit a ball that fast.

The spectators were stunned as well.

“What was that?! That was insane!”

“Was that a quick attack? That fast?!”

“Who’s that orange-haired number ten? He jumps so high!”

The stands erupted in chatter.

Ushijima raised an eyebrow and turned to Ryosuke.

“Freak Quick?”

Ryosuke nodded. “Hinata’s incredibly fast, and his reach is high. And that setter’s accuracy is outrageous. No matter where they are, as long as Kageyama sets it, Hinata will spike.”

“Not bad.”

For Ushijima to say “not bad” meant they had earned his attention.

“And Karasuno’s overall strength is solid too. Daichi-senpai’s receives are reliable. Aside from the setter being weak at digging, everyone’s well-rounded. Tanaka—the shaved-head guy—looks like a delinquent, but he doesn’t really have any major flaws. Their libero Nishinoya used to be the best libero in the prefectural middle school tournament. Asahi-senpai’s spikes might not match Reon-senpai’s, but they’re powerful…”

Ushijima glanced at him. “You think they can make the top four this year?”

Ryosuke hesitated. “Hard to say. It’s my first time competing in Miyagi. There are plenty of strong teams. Karasuno and Wakutani are bound to face off. Whether they can squeeze into the top four depends on how they perform.”

In truth, Ryosuke felt Karasuno had a chance. But Aobajohsai and Date Tech were almost certain to claim top-four spots. Karasuno would have to fight for the rest.

Ryosuke stood. “Head back?”

There was no need to watch anymore. With the second set at 20:14, Ohgiminami was destined to be shut out. Ryosuke had only come to show Ushijima the Freak Quick.

Ushijima glanced at the scoreboard, nodded, and stood. The two left the venue together.

The moment they stepped outside, Ryosuke urgently began looking for a restroom.

He had just remembered what he’d forgotten earlier.

He sprinted off in agony.

By the time Ryosuke came out of the restroom, the match was basically over. The two headed back to school in tacit understanding. Ushijima said he was returning to the dorms.

Ryosuke said he needed to grab homework from his classroom.

They parted ways.

...

Ten minutes later, the two of them stood face to face at the gym entrance.

Ryosuke: “Weren’t you going back to the dorm?”

Ushijima: “…Is this what they call betrayal? Sneaking in practice behind the captain’s back?”

They exchanged a look. Neither had the moral high ground, so neither said anything more.

They simply walked in side by side.

Before even opening the door, they could hear voices and the sounds of training inside.

They pushed it open.

Every single one of them was there.

Tendo grinned, draping an arm over Semi. “Told you. Those two were definitely coming.”

Semi sighed faintly. “Yeah… so why did you come?”

Ryosuke tilted his head, bouncing a volleyball. “Why wouldn’t we?”

Yamagata smirked. “Because he bet Tendo you wouldn’t show. Loser treats the whole team.”

Ushijima shot Semi a disapproving look.

Semi forced an awkward smile, then turned away clutching his wallet, nearly in tears. My poor money…

Shirabu added coolly, “You practically handed it over yourself.”

Semi was too busy mourning his wallet to respond.

Shirabu clicked his tongue and walked off.

In one corner, Yunohama sat slumped, head lowered.

Ryosuke didn’t know how to comfort him. Hadn’t Reon-senpai said he’d talk to him? Why was he still down?

Ryosuke wandered over to Reon, who was mid-spike.

Reon tightened his muscles, drove forward with powerful steps, and whipped his arm down like a lash.

Just as Ryosuke was about to speak, his eyes lit up.

That angle was perfect for a receive.

He dashed in from outside the court, rolled, and popped the ball up cleanly—a flawless first touch.

Watching from the side, Kawanishi nearly itched to set it. That pass was just too perfect.

Ryosuke beamed, his big catlike eyes curving into crescents. “Reon-senpai, that was an awesome serve!”

Reon: …You just dug it. Stop praising me already.

He forced a smile. “Ryosuke, next time you miss it, then say that.”

Ryosuke nodded vaguely, already forgetting what he had come over for.

They didn’t dare practice too long. Coach Washijō had repeatedly forbidden secret training the day before. If they got caught, it would be over.

So they dispersed.

That night felt unbearably long for Ryosuke. He’d barely touched a volleyball. Lying in bed, bored, his thoughts drifted.

Suddenly, in the middle of the night, he shot upright and rummaged through his cabinet for DVDs.

Since he couldn’t sleep, he might as well finish watching the past two years’ prefectural tournament recordings.

He didn’t dare turn on the lights. Instead, he pulled out the potato chips he had secretly hidden under his bed.

The faint blue glow of the computer illuminated his face as he watched the matches, crunching away.

...

The next morning, everyone gathered at the gym and stared at Ryosuke with complicated expressions.

His fair face now had two dark circles under his eyes. They weren’t severe, but against his pale skin, they stood out dramatically.

Reon rubbed his forehead. “Did you go rob a house last night?”

Yamagata burst out laughing. “You look like you got punched!”

Ryosuke lowered his head guiltily, not daring to speak.

Before he could respond, Coach Washijō walked in, face stern.

At the sight of him, Ryosuke shuddered and quietly shuffled behind Ushijima.

Ah, Ushijima-senpai truly shields him from the wind and rain.

Coach Washijō saw the movement and felt his temper spike instantly—especially recalling last night.

He had woken up for water, as usual. Passing the stairs, he thought he heard a mouse nibbling. Though he was a strict old man, even he found the house a little eerie at night.

When he went upstairs, Ryosuke’s door was ajar. Crunching noises came from inside.

Through the crack, he saw the ghostly blue computer light, Ryosuke’s blank face, and six or seven potato chip bags scattered on the floor.

His heart nearly gave out.

He closed his eyes, reopened them. The scene was the same.

His blood pressure soared.

Staying up all night was one thing—but how had this brat smuggled in so many chips?!

Though Ryosuke had worn down most of his rigid traditions over the years, “early to bed, early to rise” remained non-negotiable.

That sight had sent his anger straight to his head.

What he didn’t know was that when Ryosuke spotted Washijō’s shadowed face in the crack of the door, he nearly fainted from fright.

In the pitch-black night, already feeling watched, suddenly seeing a face staring in—his heart almost stopped.

He’d thought it was a hallucination—until Washijō stormed in and unleashed a furious scolding.

So this morning, Ryosuke didn’t dare make a sound.

As a child, he’d been quietly rebellious—the type to cause trouble without a word. He once plucked every feather off Washijō’s parrot.

Every time, he’d been harshly disciplined. Only over the years had he mellowed.

Now, when Washijō scolded him, he mostly tuned it out.

Still, seeing him made Washijō’s temples throb. He wanted to yell—but today was match day, and scolding him in front of teammates wouldn’t look good.

After talking himself down, he barely suppressed his temper. At this rate, he really might need blood pressure medication.

Clearing his throat, he said coldly, “Yesterday’s results are out. Today at 10:15, we play Date Tech.”

“Once the group stage ends, it’s straight to the quarterfinals. Don’t mess up.”

The advisor immediately followed.

“Now, today’s starting lineup.

Ushijima, Tendo, Ryosuke.
Shirabu, Yamagata, Reon.

That’s the starting six. Adjustments will depend on the situation. Date Tech has multiple scoring options. Ryosuke, Tendo, and Yamagata—you three must lock down Shiratorizawa’s defense airtight.”

“Understood!”

The three nodded.

“Goshiki and Yunohama, don’t be discouraged. Different opponents require different lineups. You’ll get your chance.”

Goshiki’s eyes lit up instantly, practically wagging an invisible tail.

Yunohama still looked downcast but nodded. He knew he likely wouldn’t see much court time this year.

After weighing everything—and after talking with Reon-senpai—he decided to pull himself together. One year wasn’t the end of the world.

Playing through injury would mean constant leg pain in the future. Playing healthy meant longevity.

After much hesitation, he chose the latter.

...

Later, everyone crowded around Ryosuke to gossip—even Yunohama.

Under so many staring eyes, Ryosuke had no choice but to recount last night’s events in full.

When he finished, he was met with looks of admiration.

Ryosuke: “?”

Shirabu gave him a thumbs-up. “Respect.”

Reon patted his shoulder with a sigh. “You’re the real man on this team. You’re the only one who dares openly challenge Coach Washijō.”

Dazed by the strange praise, Ryosuke pressed his lips together shyly, then broke into a radiant, embarrassed smile.