Chapter Seventeen

“How does it feel? Volleyball?” Sitting down to rest, Tetsu Oikawa tilted his head slightly and asked Kuroko.

Kuroko sipped the functional drink he had just grabbed from the vending machine, pondered for a moment, and replied, “It’s actually quite interesting.”

Though both volleyball and basketball involve not holding the ball constantly, the sensations differed. For some reason, volleyball gave him a stronger sense of tangibility.

“That’s good to hear.” Upon hearing this, a lazy smile curved Oikawa’s lips like a contented big cat.

He knew he couldn’t rush things. At this stage, it was enough that Kuroko didn’t dislike volleyball. Interest and habit could be cultivated gradually.

Noticing Oikawa’s relaxed smile, Kuroko recalled the other points Oikawa had mentioned earlier and turned to ask, “Shall we continue?”

Oikawa stood up. “Not yet.”

“Let’s head to the front desk to get you some protective gear first. It’s safer to have it on before starting systemized training like diving saves and such.”

“Consider it an introductory gift from senior Oikawa.”

Without any psychological burden, Oikawa took out the money he had been saving for new basketball shoes. After all, his junior had already caught the opportunity; from now on, Iwaizumi owed him a pair of shoes.

As a volleyball club primarily focused on youth development, their selection of protective gear was quite comprehensive.

From knee pads to wrist guards, Oikawa picked out the best set for Kuroko.

“This is too extravagant…” Kuroko felt a bit overwhelmed.

He didn’t think he could live up to Oikawa’s expectations. After all, he had no talent for basketball and had just begun volleyball a day ago.

With great power comes great responsibility. He was afraid… afraid he couldn’t bear the weight of Oikawa’s strong hopes.

Oikawa gave Kuroko a thumbs-up. “This is an important early investment from me. Once you’re on my ship, you won’t easily get off.”

“…Senior Oikawa will definitely regret this,” Kuroko lowered his head, lacking any confidence.

“How could that be?” Oikawa shoved everything he held into Kuroko’s hands. “I won’t regret it.”

“And I trust my judgment, and likewise, I trust your character.”

Because of the former, Oikawa knew Kuroko would reach frightening heights in volleyball.

Because of the latter, he believed Kuroko would never give up halfway.

The things in his hands felt heavy, mixed with his senior’s earnest expectations.

Kuroko did not refuse Oikawa’s gift: “I’ll do my best. I hope senior Oikawa won’t look down on me later at Aoba Johsai High.”

—It was Oikawa who reached out to him in his darkest moments.

He might not do well, but he would try his utmost not to disappoint Oikawa.

Whether it was advancing to Aoba Johsai or earning a ticket to the national championship… even if the national title itself, Kuroko would strive to bring it to him.

After all, he had been a starter for a long time in the Triple Crown team and didn’t see the championship as unattainable.

Hearing Kuroko’s candid words, Oikawa secretly made a victory sign behind his back.

Kuroko’s words were enough.

Oikawa would repay that trust by bringing Kuroko to a higher stage.

After helping Kuroko put on the gear, Oikawa glanced sideways toward Gymnasium No. 1 next door, where it seemed the Nekoma High team was playing a practice match.

Watching Nekoma’s incredibly smooth blocking and receiving, Oikawa turned to Kuroko: “Nekoma’s defense is very strong, ranked nationally. Want to take a look?”

“Sure,” Kuroko agreed quickly.

Although Oikawa hadn’t explicitly said it, Kuroko knew that Oikawa wanted to train him as a defensive specialist.

Since there was a ready-made model before him, he might as well observe carefully.

Oikawa stood at the door and just as he looked in, he caught Coach Nekomata’s gaze.

Nekomata didn’t mind spectators during practice matches and waved for them to come over.

With Nekomata’s permission, Oikawa and Kuroko entered openly.

“Hello, Coach Nekomata,” they greeted the warm senior.

“Haha, don’t be so nervous. Come, have a seat,” Nekomata patted the spot beside him.

Having watched the brief practice earlier, he truly admired both Tetsu Oikawa and Kuroko Tetsuya.

Nekoma had no player who could serve to that level, and as a complete novice, Kuroko had brought more surprises than disappointments.

The match on the court was nearing the end of the first set, with Nekoma leading 20–17.

Unable to understand the score, Kuroko asked Oikawa, “Senior Oikawa, how exactly does volleyball scoring work?”

He did know tennis scoring, which was rather unique.

“Well, roughly speaking…” Oikawa began carefully explaining the basics of scoring.

The fastest way to learn these things was to watch matches.

However, the last time they watched a match between Kitagawa Daiichi and Yukino Hill, the skill gap was too large, so little useful information was conveyed.

Nekoma’s match tempo was slow, quite different from teams that relied mostly on quick attacks and earning points through serves. Almost every ball involved several exchanges.

Moreover, most points came from blocks and defense, followed by attacks and rallies.

Listening to the whispered conversations from the bench, Nekomata seemed thoughtful.

“Great receive, Yaku!” Blacktail Tetsurou praised sincerely as Yaku smoothly delivered the ball to the front-row setter.

“The block was perfectly timed; that receive was smooth,” Yaku Eisuke gave Blacktail a thumbs-up.

Nekoma’s defense relied on a combination of blocking and receiving. Without front-row blocking to limit the opponent’s options, back-row receiving would be extremely difficult.

Strong blocking ensured Yaku’s receiving was 100% stable—an interdependent relationship.

The front-row grinder read the opponent’s movement and instantly set the ball out.

On the other side, Hisashi Yukinori jumped and spiked the ball hard onto the opponent’s court, scoring for Nekoma.

On Nekoma’s side, Fukunaga Shohei served. Still working on his jump serve, he opted for a steady, grounded serve.

The ball was received by the opponent’s back-row main attacker, but hurriedly, causing it to fly toward the setter’s other side.

Seeing the ball coming, the middle blocker at that position nervously lifted his hands and bumped the ball over the net: “Yamashita! Spike!”

The setter jumped to attack, but the Nekoma wall on the other side was already waiting, blocking right in front of him.

Yamashita calmly thought for a moment, then cleverly angled the ball out.

He had intended to avoid the block with a diagonal shot but, being inexperienced in spiking, accidentally hit a very tricky inside-angle shot.

“Damn!” Nekoma back-row’s Yamamoto Tora was completely caught off guard and too late to dive.

The ball landed inside Nekoma’s court, giving the opponents a point.

Though accidental, the team was encouraged: “Good! Let’s take this first set in one go!”

“Sorry! My fault!” Yamamoto Tora regretted missing the ball intensely.

Grinder whispered consolation, “It’s okay, it’s not your fault, nobody expected that.”

Yaku, who had just been substituted in, patted Yamamoto’s shoulder: “Yeah, what Grinder said is right. I wouldn’t have caught that ball either.”

Who would have thought the opponent would suddenly try such an extreme inside-angle shot?

“Last point! Stay steady!” Blacktail Tetsurou clapped his hands, seeing the score at 24–22.

“Alright!!!”

Feeling everyone on the court united in fierce competition, Kuroko felt certain he had made the right choice.

Volleyball… really was quite interesting.

“Is Yaku-senpai rotating in because he’s a libero?” Kuroko asked aloud.

Oikawa nodded: “Yes, liberos usually rotate in during the opponent’s serving rounds to receive the serve.”

“Receiving serves is relatively more difficult because unlike instant reactive attacks during rallies, serves come with ample preparation time. Each serve can be considered an opponent’s full-powered, well-prepared attack.”

“Besides, only by receiving the serve can the rally continue.”

“I see.” Kuroko observed Yaku Eisuke closely.

Libero.

So that was the position Oikawa wanted him to play.

With that awareness, Kuroko immediately asked Oikawa beside him, “Senior Oikawa, do you think I could become an excellent libero?”

Caught off guard, Oikawa turned his head, feeling a bit sheepish as the sounds of the ongoing match filled the air.

Judging from Kuroko’s background, the most suitable position for him was undoubtedly setter.

His passing talent combined with excellent court vision destined him to become a standout genius setter.

So Oikawa had always felt a bit sorry for wanting Kuroko to specialize in defense.

“Actually… you might be better suited as a setter,” Oikawa finally said.

After all, Kuroko would find out sooner or later.

Seeming to have sensed Oikawa’s thoughts, Kuroko looked back at the court: “You said the setter is the core of the team’s offense, like a conductor.”

“And I’m just a shadow.”

“I can’t handle being in the spotlight.”

Kuroko Tetsuya knew he couldn’t command or lead a six-person team well.

Before that, all he could do was be a link that held the team together.

And the facts proved he couldn’t even do that well.

The main attacker for Nekoma spiked, but the opponent smoothly received the ball.

Frustrated by Nekoma’s ironclad defense, the opposing ace shouted, “Give me the ball!!!”

Without hesitation, the setter set the ball to the ace: “Please!”

Nekoma’s blockers jumped instantly, blocking the ace’s right side and sealing off one route.

The ace swung with all his might, slamming the ball down fiercely.

The dull thud echoed as his palm hit the volleyball.

The ball descended at a speed almost invisible to the naked eye.

But waiting there, Yaku instantly positioned himself, lowering his center of gravity to meet the ball with perfect form.

“*Thump!*”

The sound of the ball hitting his body rang out.

Yaku caught the ball steadily without breaking his posture.

The ball bounced high, with its force and spin almost completely absorbed by Yaku, then floated accurately toward the front-row grinder.

“Nice ball!!!”

“Beautiful! Great receive!!!”

Oikawa’s eyes widened. “Incredible skill…”

That was the only phrase he could think of.

Nekoma’s defense was so solid, so fluid and pleasing to watch, even he on the sidelines marveled.

This was the importance of a great receiver.

No matter the setter’s position, the ball could be reliably delivered.

It had been an unattainable dream for Oikawa.

Watching Yaku’s back, Kuroko unconsciously smiled.

His eyes revealed a faint envy even he hadn’t noticed.

“Being the team’s backbone… that’s a pretty cool thing, isn’t it?”

The team’s shadow?

No.

—The team’s guardian.

“Senior Oikawa, I will become a qualified libero,” Kuroko promised.

Oikawa almost shed tears right there but held them back.

“Yeah.”

“I believe in you.”

Under Yaku’s miraculous rescue, Nekoma won the training match.

“Damn it—” the opposing ace was still flustered. “Yaku! How did you catch that ball?!”

“My super invincible whirlwind spike!”

Yaku’s answer struck the ace hard again: “That’s how.”

“No—” the ace buried his face in his hands, crying.

The setter walked by and kicked him: “If you mess up again, we’ll leave you here. What kind of dumb name is that anyway?”

Not only was his all-out attack caught, but his naming taste was also questioned by teammates.

Poor ace was feeling shattered.

Noticing Kuroko watching their match, Yaku approached cheerfully: “We meet again. By the way, I don’t even know your name yet.”

Ignoring Oikawa’s grim expression, Yaku extended an olive branch again.

Kuroko stood and greeted: “Hello, Senior Yaku. I’m Kuroko Tetsuya.”

Having just watched the match, Kuroko sincerely admired this libero senior.

“How was my receive?” The usually modest Yaku stared brightly at Kuroko.

Kuroko didn’t hold back his praise: “It was cool, like you’re the team’s guardian deity.”

After just a few plays, Yaku had made Kuroko take the libero position seriously and accept it.

He was a true powerhouse.

Caught off guard by such frank praise, Yaku’s face instantly flushed: “Not really…”

But he remembered the matter at hand: “Kuroko-kun, what grade are you in now? Have you joined the volleyball club?”

Kuroko answered honestly: “I’m in the third year of middle school. I was on the basketball team at Teiko Middle School.”

“Teiko? Which Teiko?” The still-wailing ace suddenly looked up.

The setter gave him a side-eye: “Which one else? The triple crown Teiko.”

“Ah? A Teiko basketball player playing volleyball? Didn’t they just win three consecutive championships?”

Kuroko meant the basketball team, which must mean the top squad.

Teiko’s first team… that was the Miracle Generation!

“Mind your own business.” The setter kicked the ace again and dragged him out by the collar: “Time to go. You’ll miss class.”

“Hey! Don’t be so rough—”

Watching the ace being dragged away, Kuroko silently mourned for a second.

During practice matches, both teams wore vests, and the scoreboard displayed red and blue teams.

Only now did Kuroko notice the school name on the orange warm-ups freshly put on the players.

—Shuutoku.

Kuroko thought for a moment.

Seems like… one of Tokyo’s two basketball giants?

Never mind, it wasn’t important to him anymore.

Though interrupted earlier, Yaku continued: “So, Kuroko-kun, do you plan to study volleyball seriously and join the high school volleyball club?”

Since Teiko was in Tokyo, Kuroko wasn’t from Miyagi Prefecture, making it unlikely he’d go to Sendai.

Yaku still held hope.

“Yes, I’ve just started learning volleyball,” Kuroko nodded.

Upon hearing this affirmation, Yaku, under Oikawa’s death stare, stated his ultimate goal: “Then, are you interested in joining Nekoma’s volleyball team?”

“No way!” Oikawa finally couldn’t hold back and rejected Yaku on Kuroko’s behalf. “Kuroko is coming to our Aoba Johsai.”

Yaku continued ignoring Oikawa: “You’ve seen some of our matches. Our style suits you perfectly. We’d warmly welcome you.”

Kuroko held back Oikawa, who was about to argue, and bowed to Yaku: “Sorry, Senior Yaku. I’ve already agreed with Senior Oikawa to attend Aoba Johsai High. I probably can’t meet your expectations.”

Although Yaku knew Kuroko and Oikawa were together, being directly rejected still shattered his heart.

“That’s truly unfortunate… but if you change your mind, feel free to come find me anytime,” Yaku made a last-ditch effort.

After all, Sendai Johsai’s admission threshold was higher than Nekoma’s, so if Kuroko failed the entrance exam, he might consider Nekoma.

Watching the scene, Grinder said to Blacktail, “Feels like he rarely shows such obvious interest in anyone.”

“To be honest, it’s my first time seeing this too.” Blacktail, in the same grade as Yaku, had never seen this side of him.

Oikawa stared at Yaku like a mother hen guarding her chicks from a weasel: “Don’t worry, I’ll apply for a special recommendation for Kuroko later. No chance for Nekoma.”

“That’s not a sure thing,” Yaku retorted.

“Kuroko, let’s get back to practice.” Not confident with Yaku’s gaze, Oikawa decided to take Kuroko away from Yaku’s ill intent.

His previous fondness for Yaku, born from volleyball, had completely vanished; to him, Yaku now simply had “Human Trafficker” written all over his face.

This year, Aoba Johsai had three special recommendation spots reserved for Kitagawa Daiichi’s Kageyama Tobio, Kindaichi Yutaro, and Kunimi Akira. Oikawa truly couldn’t conjure a fourth one.

Looks like he’d have to tutor Kuroko more later…

Watching them leave, Yaku stroked his chin.

“What? You’re so eager to retire?” Blacktail leaned over. He was only a second-year; retirement was far away. Usually, teams with enough national tournament competitiveness retired only after spring high school championships.

This year, Nekoma’s third-year players were stepping down to make way for capable first-years at setter and middle blocker positions.

A player like Yaku probably wouldn’t be allowed to retire by the coach.

“Not really…” Yaku sighed. “I just feel I should have a well-behaved, talented, polite little apprentice.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

Blacktail was puzzled: “Where did you get that weird obsession from…”

“Intuition!” Yaku nudged him with his elbow.

On the way back to the adjacent court, Oikawa kept thinking about how to ensure Kuroko’s smooth admission to Aoba Johsai.

They usually had two or three special recommendation spots yearly; this year, only two were initially granted, but Kunimi performed well at the national tournament, so Aoba Johsai added another.

Adding Kuroko would make four—it seemed impossible.

Kuroko said his grades hovered around the passing line, so directly applying to Aoba Johsai carried a significant risk of failure.

“Kuroko, I’ll tutor you later,” Oikawa sighed.

He considered his own grades decent; middle school courses should be easy enough.

“…Okay.” Kuroko shyly averted his gaze.

Standing at one end of the court with the ball, Oikawa’s mind oddly jumped to how to tie up Kageyama Tobio.

Though four special recommendations were hard to get, it wasn’t completely impossible.

Most spots were decided around this time, but some “special admission” slots existed.

For sports admissions, competition results mattered most. The national tournament had ended, so Kuroko likely couldn’t produce results quickly.

However, between the end of spring high school championships and school start in Miyagi Prefecture, there was a large sports event called the “Prefectural Tournament.”

If Kuroko achieved good results there, and Coach Iribata advocated for him, it might be possible.

Moreover, if Kuroko committed to the pure libero path, they could temporarily skip learning serving, spiking, and compress his training to the extreme.

If he placed in the top three at the Prefectural Tournament and even won a libero award, his chances would be almost guaranteed.

Well, it was still unlikely, but more feasible than tying up Kageyama Tobio.

“Senior Oikawa?” Kuroko asked, seeing him dazed.

Oikawa wasn’t really worried that Kuroko would go to Nekoma.

He said he wouldn’t stay in Tokyo, meaning he didn’t want to linger a day longer.

Getting away from this troublesome place was the best choice.

“Ah? Oh, I’m back.” Snapping out of it, Oikawa prepared to serve.

Again, starting with the simplest exercises, he deliberately slowed the pace so Kuroko could fully feel how to control the ball’s landing target.

But soon, Oikawa realized his earlier worries were unnecessary.

Kuroko’s control over ball trajectory was better than he imagined, and he quickly adapted to the entire receive-to-set process.

Though just with fixed ground marks, Kuroko honestly surprised Oikawa greatly.

He knew Kuroko was good at fixed-point passing but hadn’t expected this level.

After the first couple of slightly off balls, every ball Kuroko passed landed precisely enough to hit the bullseye.

Truly…

This was genuine, incredible skill.

Unaware that achieving such a level within a day of starting volleyball was terrifying, Kuroko trusted his lack of talent.

But Oikawa knew.

He had witnessed the birth of a future top-class libero.

#

“Philos-kun… didn’t come today either?” Sitting on the steps of Teiko’s basketball gym, Satsuki Momoi sighed deeply.

Beside her, Ryota Kise looked distracted: “Yeah.”

Shintaro Midorima, however, was more philosophical: “He’s a third-year preparing to retire; it’s understandable he’s absent.”

He was just puzzled. Kuroko had been so passionate about basketball before, so why would he suddenly skip practice? He even heard from Kuroko’s classmates that he hadn’t come to class.

Likewise, because he admired Kuroko, he couldn’t understand why Kuroko was investing his energy in meaningless things.

Momoi could only comfort herself: “I guess so.”

“By the way, what about your plans for high school, Kise?”

Kise hesitated: “Saitama… probably.”

“What about you, Midorima?”

Midorima stared at the lucky dog figurine in his hand for a long while before answering: “Not yet decided. None of the invitations I’ve received align with my future plans.”

“Your future plans, huh…” Kise had seen through it all.

While they chatted, Seijuro Akashi approached with a dark expression, holding a piece of paper.

“小赤司？ Why so serious?” Kise rarely saw Akashi like this.

He had a bad feeling.

Akashi said nothing, simply handed the paper to Midorima.

Midorima quickly scanned it, then, as if unable to believe his eyes, adjusted his glasses and read again.

After a long pause, he stood abruptly and stared at Akashi: “This kind of joke isn’t funny, Akashi.”

“Unfortunately, it’s no joke,” Akashi stated flatly.

Midorima opened his mouth, then, as if losing his voice, finally uttered four words and left decisively.

“What a disgrace.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Kise caught the paper.

Upon seeing the first line, he uncontrollably stood up.

“Kuroko’s withdrawal application?!”

Momoi snatched the paper, pleading with Akashi: “Akashi-kun, where did you get this?”

Akashi answered: “From the coach’s desk. He forgot it there.”

It was peak retirement season; leaving a withdrawal request behind was too normal.

“I’m going to find him.” Momoi took a deep breath.

She ran off.

She couldn’t accept Kuroko cutting ties with her and them like this.

At least, she wanted to ask him face-to-face and receive an answer she could accept.

Akashi withdrew his gaze.

He knew Momoi wouldn’t find Kuroko.

Because what he got wasn’t just a withdrawal application but also a student council-processed school transfer request.

Things seemed to have completely slipped beyond his control.