Kuiya briefly explained the filming schedule to Reon, then left—he didn't want to take up any of the students' valuable training time.
After getting the details, Reon went to organize practice.
In simple terms, they would film the team's daily training, then call players out one by one for close-ups and a few interview questions. All of it would be broadcast on TV.
According to Kuiya, it wasn't just Shiratorizawa—Aobajosai and Karasuno would also be filmed, though their segments would be shorter.
Reon didn't pay it much mind. He grabbed a volleyball and joined the training.
Tsutomu Goshiki had been strictly ordered by Coach Washijō to improve his blocking, so he was paired up with Ushijima. It was truly a mix of pain and joy. If you asked who was the hardest to train with on the team, aside from Ushijima, it would definitely be Ryosuke.
Ushijima's left-handed spikes were feared in major matches, yet within the team, he had to act as a daily sparring partner. Even when he held back his strength, blocking him was still extremely difficult.
Tsutomu Goshiki was getting battered senseless by Ushijima's spikes.
Then there was Ryosuke. Before he joined, the most dreaded practice partner had been Tendo, since he could block almost anything. But Tendo's stamina wasn't great—lasting an hour in training was already impressive.
Now Ryosuke had appeared—a reinforced combination of Tendo and Yamagata. While his endurance still wasn't outstanding, it was steadily improving. Everyone on the team had suffered under him.
Especially Tsutomu Goshiki and Yunohama, who were in the same year—they had the most to say. Under Ryosuke's relentless pressure, aside from Tsutomu Goshiki, who improved slowly, Yunohama had already figured out on his own how to get around Ryosuke's Blocks, and with noticeable success.
"Bang!"
"Ow!"
Another spike from Ushijima slammed straight into Tsutomu Goshiki's face. He crouched down miserably, clutching his head, and pleaded,
"Ushijima-senpai, the TV crew is here—can you at least spare me some dignity?"
Ushijima's answer was another merciless spike.
Tsutomu Goshiki had practically given up, but the moment he saw the ball coming, his body reacted on instinct and he jumped to Block again.
"Bang!"
The ball skimmed past his arm.
Tsutomu Goshiki cursed himself under his breath—this stupid reflex.
One of the cameramen turned his lens toward him with interest, thinking casually:
Isn't that number 8 who scored quite a bit in matches? So this is his position on the team… Even strong players have to go through this kind of grueling training.
Ryosuke and Kawanishi were practicing spiking. Ever since Kawanishi had his "breakthrough" last time—and saw that Coach Washijō didn't object—he had fully committed to this path.
Every day, he tried to figure out how to trick Ryosuke's Block. But who was Ryosuke? Someone who could keep up with Oikawa in practice. Simple tricks weren't going to fool him anymore.
Kawanishi jumped—one moment it looked like he'd go for a soft tip, the next he switched to a tool-off attempt.
Ryosuke, with his already solid hang time, calmly pulled back his blocking hand, causing Kawanishi's attempt to hit nothing but air.
Kawanishi landed with a sigh, adjusted his clothes, and said,
"Ryosuke, you're getting craftier by the day."
Ryosuke just grinned without replying.
"That's how you're supposed to set that ball!"
"No—you need to analyze the situation and the opposing setter's position. You have to think it through."
"You're wrong! At times like this, you set to the ace!"
An argument broke out on the other side of the gym. The camera crew immediately turned their cameras toward Shirabu and Eita Semi.
Yamagata walked over, letting out a long sigh.
"Who came up with the insane idea of making Eita Semi and Shirabu train together?"
Ryosuke rubbed his nose, silently accepting the blame.
Normally quiet and proud, Shirabu-senpai was so provoked by Eita Semi-senpai that his face turned red and even his voice cracked…
Reon-senpai and Coach Washijō had really gone all in.
Shirabu's chest rose and fell with anger, his eyes blazing.
Eita Semi, on the other hand, was barely holding back his laughter. To others, Shirabu seemed proud and powerful—the kind of player who must be incredibly strong to be Shiratorizawa's setter. But to Eita Semi, Shirabu was just a naive, soft-hearted kid—almost pitiful.
When he got worked up, he looked like a harmless little kitten.
During his two years as Shiratorizawa's setter, Shirabu had never once opposed Coach Washijō's demands. He believed everything Washijō said was right. It was Washijō who gave him the chance to set for Ushijima—he had never dared to hope for more.
But people are greedy.
As Shiratorizawa slowly began to change, Shirabu also wanted to change. He truly envied Oikawa—a setter with a powerful team who could freely utilize his attackers.
That was the pinnacle for a setter.
Shirabu wanted to become like that too.
It wasn't until this prefectural tournament, when he failed to control the rhythm of the match, that Coach Washijō realized something: a setter without their own initiative wasn't necessarily a good thing. That realization led to this current situation.
Recently, Coach Washijō had also been reflecting on himself. In the past, he didn't understand why players needed their own ideas—he thought strength alone was enough.
But after Ryosuke joined Shiratorizawa, he gradually became more understanding. He didn't want Ryosuke to see him as rigid, unchanging—or as a cold, unfeeling tyrant.
This was his selfishness as a grandfather.
It could be said that Ryosuke had changed Shiratorizawa.
...
While the team trained intensely, Kuiya had already set up the camera in the lounge.
The advisor quietly began calling players in one by one.
The first to be called was Ushijima. Since it was the advisor calling him, no one paid much attention.
Ushijima followed him out, initially thinking it was for a conversation, but quickly realized—it was for an interview.
He still couldn't understand why Coach Washijō had agreed to something so pointless.
At the lounge entrance, the advisor patted his shoulder.
"Go on."
Ushijima nodded and walked in.
The advisor smiled faintly outside the door. At first, he hadn't understood Washijō's decision either, but after these past days, he had a vague idea—Washijō was preparing for Shiratorizawa's future.
Once Ushijima graduated, Ryosuke and the others would step up.
To build a stronger next generation, Washijō had begun to adopt the "useless publicity" methods he once dismissed.
Washijō was selfish. His beloved grandson and volleyball ranked equally in his heart. He wanted the entire Shiratorizawa Boys' Volleyball Club to pave the way for Ryosuke's future.
He wanted Ryosuke's generation to become the strongest in Shiratorizawa's history—to aim directly for the world championship.
…Of course, all of that would only be proven in two or three years.
For now, the priority was the interview.
For example—would Ushijima, the notorious "reporter killer," once again leave the interviewer speechless?
When Ushijima entered, he was surprised to see Coach Washijō there and raised an eyebrow slightly.
Washijō shot him a glare, signaling him not to speak. Ushijima immediately complied. In certain situations, his instincts were remarkably sharp.
Kuiya led him to a table with fruit and drinks, two chairs set in front.
Reon had already explained—just sit down and answer the questions.
Ushijima had no objections.
He walked straight to the chair and sat down.
Kuiya's outstretched hand for a handshake froze awkwardly in midair.
Ushijima even glanced back at him, puzzled, as if asking—
"Why aren't you coming?"
Behind the camera, Washijō covered his face.
This was absolutely his biggest failure as a coach. He'd have to teach Ushijima some basic social etiquette someday.
Kuiya forced an awkward but polite smile, then sat down and signaled the crew to begin filming.
He had even worn a full suit for the occasion. In this heat, that alone showed how seriously he took the interview.
Settling into his chair, hands folded over his lap, he relaxed as if chatting with an old friend and smoothly slipped into host mode.
He began with a long opening speech.
"Today marks the conclusion of the 30th Miyagi Prefecture Summer Tournament. Our guest is the three-time consecutive champion of Miyagi—the powerhouse Shiratorizawa. Many of you have likely seen them in magazines or at live matches…"
He spoke for several minutes.
Ushijima sat there expressionless, like a decorative mascot.
"Now, our first interview is with Shiratorizawa's captain, known as Ushijima's left-handed cannon—Wakatoshi Ushijima. Let's start with a greeting."
The camera shifted to include Ushijima.
Ushijima looked at Kuiya: ...
Kuiya: ...?
Why isn't he talking?
Kuiya had expected a simple introduction. Reon should have told him.
Reon had—but Ushijima's logic was different. Since Kuiya had already introduced him, why repeat it?
After several seconds of silence, under Kuiya's increasingly uneasy gaze, Ushijima finally spoke:
"Hello everyone. I'm Wakatoshi Ushijima from Shiratorizawa."
Kuiya let out a breath of relief. Washijō did the same.
Honestly… why did this kid seem so dense?
"Hello, Ushijima. What are your thoughts on winning the prefectural championship again?"
Ushijima thought for a moment.
"It's good."
Kuiya: "..."
Now he understood why previous reporters didn't want to come back.
Still, relying on his professionalism, Kuiya kept things going.
"Haha, Ushijima, you're quite humorous. I watched your training earlier—does daily training get exhausting?"
That wasn't an exaggeration. Watching for an hour alone had been tiring, yet these teenagers trained as if it were nothing.
It made him worry about his own child—if he chose volleyball, could he endure it?
Ushijima shook his head.
"Not tiring."
An hour of basic training was just a warm-up.
"Then what has kept you going all these years? What was your original motivation? Volleyball players work incredibly hard, and even going pro doesn't guarantee success."
That question carried a hint of cold reality.
Ushijima paused.
It wasn't easy for someone like him to put this into a few words.
He took a deep breath.
Washijō also watched with interest.
To him, Ushijima had always been like still water—calm, unwavering, even in setbacks.
So what did volleyball mean to him?
"I started playing volleyball because I wanted my father to notice me."
The camera slowly zoomed in.
"My father loved volleyball. He chose this path for me when I was young. He gave me this left-handed advantage.
Since I can remember, I've always been around volleyball. At first, I was just following his expectations."
"A few years ago, my parents divorced. But I didn't feel as sad as I expected. My time was all spent on the court—with volleyball and with my teammates."
"But after they left, I wanted to go higher. I wanted them to see me, even from the other side of the world. I want them to know that I love volleyball—and that I'm doing well."
These words were deeply sincere—guaranteed to create buzz once aired.
Kuiya was already thinking ahead as he continued:
"Do you regret dedicating so many years to volleyball?"
Ushijima shook his head.
"No regrets. I will become a strong player. Volleyball is my only destination."
Washijō withdrew his gaze, satisfied.
So this kid did have his own thoughts.
Good. As expected of Shiratorizawa's captain.
Kuiya smiled, clearly pleased.
"Last question—could you share a message of encouragement for volleyball players?"
Ushijima let out a small breath. Finally, it was ending.
He looked straight into the camera.
"Only the strong remain on the court as winners. If you want to keep winning, become stronger."
Kuiya signaled that filming could stop and looked at Ushijima with gratitude.
Thank goodness… he'd thought this would be much harder.
"Thank you, Ushijima."
Ushijima nodded slightly, bowed to Kuiya and Coach Washijō, and left quietly.
The advisor smiled when he saw him.
"Go back to training."
Then he leaned inside, listening as they discussed who to call in next.