Off to the side, Tendo raised his arms, swaying his body as he shouted, "Semi! Semi! Give us a good serve!"
Semi's face filled with black lines. He tossed the ball upward, took one step, two steps, three steps, four steps, then leaped high, perfectly catching the timing at the hitting point. With a sharp whoosh, the ball shot forward.
This was the cleverness of Semi's serve. Unlike the sheer power and heavy spin of Reon and Ushijima, Semi's serve was fast and light, relying on speed rather than brute force.
The receiver was also a first-year, named Yunohama. He managed to receive four of Semi's serves, which, all things considered, was already quite impressive.
Next up was Goshiki. He was still lamenting why it wasn't Ushijima serving, the disappointment practically written all over his face. It nearly made Semi lose control of his expression.
What's with that look, brat? Not satisfied, huh?!
As if in retaliation, Semi's next serve suddenly surged with power. The ball tore through the air with a piercing sound, flashing in front of Goshiki's eyes. Before he could even react, it slammed straight into the floor.
Before Semi could even start mocking him, tiny sparks seemed to flare up behind Goshiki.
In the serves that followed, Goshiki managed to receive all of them except that first explosive one from Semi. Overall, his performance was very solid.
The advisor praised him approvingly from the side. "This Tsutomu Goshiki is pretty good."
Coach Washijō snorted. "Still far from enough."
Despite his words, there was praise in his eyes. The advisor glanced at Coach Washijō helplessly—this old man really did have a sharp tongue but a soft heart.
After Goshiki finished receiving, it was Ryosuke's turn.
Just as Ryosuke was about to step onto the court, Washijō suddenly barked, "Semi, get off. Ushijima will serve this one."
Semi froze for a moment, then looked at Ryosuke with eyes full of sympathy.
Ryosuke was completely confused by that inexplicable look.
On the other side, Ushijima had already changed and stepped forward, preparing to serve. The rest of the team stopped crowding around and instead watched with keen interest.
Ryosuke broke out in a cold sweat. Don't look at me… if you stare at me like that, I'll get shy…
Ushijima didn't give Ryosuke much time to think. He tossed the ball up, his solid, muscular body brimming with strength as his left arm slowly swung back.
To Ryosuke, everything seemed to slow down. He could clearly see the trajectory of Ushijima's hit—the powerful left spin, the force still within what he could handle.
The ball carried that left-spinning path and overwhelming power. In that instant, Ryosuke's presence became impossible to ignore.
His eyes locked onto the ball's movement. Within the high-speed rotation, subtle clues revealed themselves.
It would land about two meters forward—a straight shot down the right side of the court.
Ryosuke frantically ran through every possible way to receive it. There was no time to think!
Driven purely by instinct, Ryosuke quickly shifted one step up and to the right. His feet spread apart, weight pressing into the ball of his right foot as his left followed immediately. He extended his arms to the side, the volleyball striking squarely between his forearms.
The immense force made his breathing hitch. He immediately adjusted, following the ball's momentum and rolling smoothly along the ground, using a soft motion to dissipate its power with his own body.
The ball rebounded high off his arms.
A perfect first pass, Yamagata silently judged from off the court.
What the hell—can anyone receive Ushijima's serve now?!
His gaze swept back and forth over Ryosuke's slender arms. Tendo laughed lightly. "Yamagata, don't look at our rookie like you're about to eat him."
Everyone stared at Ryosuke in disbelief. Even Ushijima fell unusually silent.
…Hmm, I must have gotten worse lately. When I get back, I'll practice a hundred more serves.
He reached that conclusion with startling speed.
In the end, Ryosuke managed to receive three of Ushijima's serves. One flew past him, and another had too much power—his release wasn't clean, and it went out of bounds.
Afterward, Ryosuke looked down at his arms. Large patches of red had already bloomed across them, accompanied by a sharp, stinging pain, as if they might swell at any moment.
His arms trembled uncontrollably. Ryosuke clenched his fist. This feeling—this swelling, solid pain—was amazing. This meant he could play volleyball.
His eyes burned as he stared at Ushijima. Serves like this… I want to receive a lot more of them.
Watching from outside the court, Coach Washijō gave a satisfied snort. What he said aloud, however, was another matter. "Brat. You clearly didn't train properly when I wasn't around. You only managed three receptions."
The advisor wiped sweat from his brow. Coach, those were Ushijima's serves… that's way beyond a middle schooler's level.
With that, the receiving portion came to an end, the shock Ryosuke had delivered slowly settling.
Yamagata hesitated, then hesitated again. Finally, while everyone was preparing for the next round of testing, he shuffled over to Ryosuke.
"How did you pull off that reception?"
Ryosuke looked at his senior and scratched his head. "Huh? Um… I don't really know how to explain it.
It's just… I can observe the serve's trajectory and roughly predict where it'll land. Ideally, I try to make a perfect first pass. If that doesn't work, I at least get the ball up. And if even that fails, then I make sure I touch it."
Yamagata looked at the still somewhat immature Ryosuke and finally spoke the praise he'd been turning over in his mouth.
"Kid, you did well. From now on, take more of Ushijima's serves. Best case, receive every single one of them and drive him crazy."
It was a devil's whisper.
Ryosuke trembled like a frightened kitten.