Haikyuu: Zero To Almighty
Author: IseeBlack
Chapter 375: Pressure from the Pros (Double-Length)
"Facing players who have competed on the world stage—getting a little nervous or overwhelmed is totally normal."
"But it's not
them…"
"It's not
the players who've been to the World Championship. It's
on the court."
"The pressure hits
once you're up against them! It's nothing like high school, nothing like Inter-High or Spring Nationals!"
"
is what pressure from the pros feels like!!!"
"
…
…"
Oikawa Tōru, who had only just managed to steady his breathing, found it turning ragged again.
"And it's not just the opponents, either…You can
this pressure from your own teammates, too…"
Just now, when Martín Ramos had served, Oikawa noticed that several of the players around him reacted, but when they saw that the ball was headed his way,
.
Oikawa understood what they were trying to say.
The blue team served again.
Martín Ramos blew Oikawa an insincere whistle before tossing the ball up once more.
Even
speed.
Even
point of contact.
Even
power...
"So that means…I have to read it even faster!"
Just as expected, Martín Ramos's second serve shot straight at Oikawa again.
Oikawa dashed into position and received the serve head-on!
"Damn it!"
The ball packed even more power than he had anticipated. The force of it broke apart his hand formation, and the ball veered sharply behind him, over his shoulder.
"Conte!"
Just when Oikawa thought they were going to lose the point, the opposite hitter—Bruno Lima—shouted and instantly read the ball's trajectory, chasing it down.
On the left sideline, outside hitter Facundo Conte started his approach.
The ball soared from behind the baseline to the front of the net.
From Oikawa's perspective,
It had come from behind the hitter, and the trajectory looked too high—if Conte didn't catch the timing just right in the air, the ball would fly straight into the opponent's court.
Facundo Conte leapt up, swinging his right arm in a wide arc from behind his body.
"Double block!"
Palacios and Martín Ramos both jumped to contest the spike.
The ball slammed violently in front of Boris Danov, bouncing high into the air.
Facundo Conte scores!
"Nice spike, Conte!"
"
." Conte responded with a curt nod.
Oikawa's mouth opened slightly, as if to say something, but the scene that had just unfolded left him speechless.
Only by
Bruno Lima had taken what looked like a
point and managed to set it to the net. And Facundo Conte hadn't found it strange in the slightest. He had responded to it in an instant, like it was nothing…
It was strange no matter how he looked at it!
That was a bad set from behind, and yet Facundo Conte hadn't even looked behind him—and still nailed it!
"Not bad," Nicolás Zerba said with a grin. "You managed to touch the ball on your second receive already. You must be considered a prodigy back in your country, huh?"
Oikawa didn't have time to worry about that now.
What mattered was figuring out how to
to the rhythm of this match!
The serve changed hands—
.
Just like earlier, the focus shifted to the other new trial player on Oikawa's side—Boris Danov, the opposite hitter.
Boris Danov had been promoted from the San Juan club's youth team, and this wasn't his first tryout. But at 20 years old,
—he didn't have many chances left.
Facundo Conte tossed the ball up, took his approach, jumped, and struck.
Boris Danov barely managed to get the ball up.
Setter Matías Sánchez immediately moved in to cover.
Palacios and Martín Ramos both launched their attacks from the left and right.
Facundo Conte and Nicolás Zerba moved up to the net, their positions splitting it into thirds.
The ball flew toward the right side—Martín Ramos leapt for the spike, with Nicolás blocking him directly.
But Martín Ramos didn't waste time battling the blockers mid-air—he swung around them and launched a
.
Oikawa had already stepped forward, but it still wasn't fast enough—he couldn't keep up with the speed of the ball as it landed.
Front-court spikes—
—had even more height and even more power.
Spectators had gathered around the court
Tryouts like these often produced valuable info worth scooping.
-----
Oikawa couldn't hear the chatter around him.
Right now, just
already took everything he had.
But those three months of footage hadn't been for nothing—
, the players on the court began to sync up in his mind with the versions of them he'd studied in the videos.
The ball struck Oikawa's hand and flew out of bounds.
Palacios scores.
"Sixteen points dropped by the red team—and at least
of them are connected to Oikawa Tōru."
"José, the kid you brought in is nearly done for," said assistant coach Frédéric. "It was too early to have him try out now after all. Let him spend more time with the second team."
"Pro volleyball isn't something you can compare to high school clubs," Frédéric went on.
"These guys out here?
Whether it's the training intensity or the pressure of actual games, their resolve to survive in such a competitive environment is on another level."
"Throw a high school kid into the middle of a pack like that, it's like tossing a puppy who's never had to fend for itself into a den of wolves who've been hunting their own food all their lives..."
"He'll get
apart."
José Blanco's brow furrowed ever so slightly.
Four players from the red team walked over to José Blanco.
Oikawa Tōru looked utterly frustrated.
—the door to pro volleyball was right there in front of him. He had fought so hard to make it here…
"Coach José, please, let me finish the set!"
As the timeout was called, Oikawa had noticed both coaches glancing in his direction, clearly discussing something. He could hear murmurs from the reporters on the sidelines too.
—he felt like he was so close to grasping something.
José Blanco frowned, his tone strict as he said, "Bruno, did I ever teach you to play like that?"
"And Conte—if all you wanted was to see whether Oikawa could receive a ball, I'd say he's
proved he can."
"So why are you still making him handle
alone?"
Bruno Lima fell silent.
Facundo Conte replied calmly, "He hasn't performed at a satisfactory level. I didn't think it was necessary to share the burden of reception with him."
"You're not evaluating him as a libero, are you?" José's voice grew heavier. "I didn't bring him here to try out for that position."
Oikawa, standing nearby,
—but one thing was clear:
He still had a shot!
Facundo Conte hesitated for a moment, then turned to Oikawa. "I'll give you
balls. Show me what you can do as a setter."
Oikawa: "..."
But up until now, he had been the target. He had spent the whole match forced to receive, without a single opportunity to set the ball. And with the pace of this game, having someone else pick up the first touch for him seemed almost impossible.
Facundo noticed his confusion and clarified, "You don't need to receive. Just stay behind us."
"Once the ball is up, that's when your job starts."
Oikawa understood. What surprised him was that Conte would actually offer to help him out.
"Guess I have José to thank for this," he thought to himself.
"Remember,
three balls," Conte reminded.
"I understand," Oikawa replied seriously.
-----
"You really believe in him
much?" Frédéric asked, puzzled.
"It's a common strategy for setters not to receive," José replied calmly. "In a 5–1 system, or in a double-setter setup, the core setter often focuses entirely on the offence, not on reception."
"But that only applies when the setter is the core!" Frédéric countered. "This arrangement makes it seem like he's
important to the team's strategy than Conte."
"Isn't he?" José said without hesitation. "A good setter orchestrates the entire team. No matter how strong a spiker is, they're still
one player."
Frédéric was stunned for a moment.
He let out a small sigh.
José Blanco's gaze remained fixed on Oikawa as he added slowly, "Freddy, what you said earlier about the objective factors was all true. But if we're talking about sheer determination…
underestimate a teenager who moved overseas alone right after high school."
-----
When Martín Ramos stepped up to the service line again, he noticed the red team had shifted from a four-man receive formation to three. The Japanese trial kid was now hiding behind Facundo Conte, tucked away in the back corner.
"Well, smart enough call, I guess," Martín muttered. "Aside from barely getting the ball up, that kid's done nothing useful."
He gave a smirk as he tossed the ball, took his run-up, jumped—and smashed the ball down.
Facundo Conte received the ball cleanly—but the motion stalled him slightly.
The ball flew up to the net. Oikawa moved swiftly into position, and on his right, middle blocker Nicolás Zerba and opposite spiker Bruno Lima both began to approach for an attack.
"If it ends like this…everyone back in Aoba Johsai will be so disappointed!"
Oikawa faced right, hands cupped, absorbing the ball's momentum with his wrists and fingertips before launching it out—
"What?!!"
"A back set?!"
Palacios and Martín Ramos, who had both started shifting right, were suddenly thrown off.
Everything about Oikawa's jump and hand motion had screamed
But the moment he released the ball,
his fingertips adding a subtle spin that sent the ball soaring high—toward the
.
"No way I'd fool you with anything less than this!"
A grin tugged at Oikawa's lips. He had successfully pulled the blockers away.
As for the fact that Conte had
received the ball? Oikawa wasn't worried—at this level, he knew Conte would keep up.
Conte leapt up on the left.
"I
it!" Oikawa turned his head—
"What—
?!"
Palacios and Martín Ramos, who had been over on the right, were already in front of Conte.
"Double block!"
It wasn't a perfect formation, but it was a solid block right in Conte's face.
Conte's expression didn't change. He swung cleanly through the ball.
The spike shot toward the blue team's sideline—
.
A straight-line spike right on the sideline!
Point for the red team.
"They actually
shake them off?!"
Even though they'd won the point, Oikawa couldn't hide his disbelief at what had just happened.
"Hey, trial player," Conte called out to him. "If you want to become a professional, you'll need to
how you think."
"Nice set," said Nicolás with a grin. "I really thought that one was for me."
"But that kind of trick will only work once.
it's useless."
Oikawa gave him a slight nod of thanks, then hesitated before asking Conte, "Was there anything I should've adjusted about the last set?"
"It was too
and too
," Conte replied. "Were you waiting for me to finish resetting before making your decision?"
Oikawa was about to nod.
"You didn't need to. With the pace of this game, the attack plan in your head right now won't get you any points."
"That last set was worth maybe 50 points, tops."
"For the next one—set the
ball you possibly can."
"You've got two chances left."
"But it's not
them…"
"It's not
the players who've been to the World Championship. It's
on the court."
"The pressure hits
once you're up against them! It's nothing like high school, nothing like Inter-High or Spring Nationals!"
"
is what pressure from the pros feels like!!!"
"
…
…"
Oikawa Tōru, who had only just managed to steady his breathing, found it turning ragged again.
"And it's not just the opponents, either…You can
this pressure from your own teammates, too…"
Just now, when Martín Ramos had served, Oikawa noticed that several of the players around him reacted, but when they saw that the ball was headed his way,
.
Oikawa understood what they were trying to say.
The blue team served again.
Martín Ramos blew Oikawa an insincere whistle before tossing the ball up once more.
Even
speed.
Even
point of contact.
Even
power...
"So that means…I have to read it even faster!"
Just as expected, Martín Ramos's second serve shot straight at Oikawa again.
Oikawa dashed into position and received the serve head-on!
"Damn it!"
The ball packed even more power than he had anticipated. The force of it broke apart his hand formation, and the ball veered sharply behind him, over his shoulder.
"Conte!"
Just when Oikawa thought they were going to lose the point, the opposite hitter—Bruno Lima—shouted and instantly read the ball's trajectory, chasing it down.
On the left sideline, outside hitter Facundo Conte started his approach.
The ball soared from behind the baseline to the front of the net.
From Oikawa's perspective,
It had come from behind the hitter, and the trajectory looked too high—if Conte didn't catch the timing just right in the air, the ball would fly straight into the opponent's court.
Facundo Conte leapt up, swinging his right arm in a wide arc from behind his body.
"Double block!"
Palacios and Martín Ramos both jumped to contest the spike.
The ball slammed violently in front of Boris Danov, bouncing high into the air.
Facundo Conte scores!
"Nice spike, Conte!"
"
." Conte responded with a curt nod.
Oikawa's mouth opened slightly, as if to say something, but the scene that had just unfolded left him speechless.
Only by
Bruno Lima had taken what looked like a
point and managed to set it to the net. And Facundo Conte hadn't found it strange in the slightest. He had responded to it in an instant, like it was nothing…
It was strange no matter how he looked at it!
That was a bad set from behind, and yet Facundo Conte hadn't even looked behind him—and still nailed it!
"Not bad," Nicolás Zerba said with a grin. "You managed to touch the ball on your second receive already. You must be considered a prodigy back in your country, huh?"
Oikawa didn't have time to worry about that now.
What mattered was figuring out how to
to the rhythm of this match!
The serve changed hands—
.
Just like earlier, the focus shifted to the other new trial player on Oikawa's side—Boris Danov, the opposite hitter.
Boris Danov had been promoted from the San Juan club's youth team, and this wasn't his first tryout. But at 20 years old,
—he didn't have many chances left.
Facundo Conte tossed the ball up, took his approach, jumped, and struck.
Boris Danov barely managed to get the ball up.
Setter Matías Sánchez immediately moved in to cover.
Palacios and Martín Ramos both launched their attacks from the left and right.
Facundo Conte and Nicolás Zerba moved up to the net, their positions splitting it into thirds.
The ball flew toward the right side—Martín Ramos leapt for the spike, with Nicolás blocking him directly.
But Martín Ramos didn't waste time battling the blockers mid-air—he swung around them and launched a
.
Oikawa had already stepped forward, but it still wasn't fast enough—he couldn't keep up with the speed of the ball as it landed.
Front-court spikes—
—had even more height and even more power.
Spectators had gathered around the court
Tryouts like these often produced valuable info worth scooping.
-----
Oikawa couldn't hear the chatter around him.
Right now, just
already took everything he had.
But those three months of footage hadn't been for nothing—
, the players on the court began to sync up in his mind with the versions of them he'd studied in the videos.
The ball struck Oikawa's hand and flew out of bounds.
Palacios scores.
"Sixteen points dropped by the red team—and at least
of them are connected to Oikawa Tōru."
"José, the kid you brought in is nearly done for," said assistant coach Frédéric. "It was too early to have him try out now after all. Let him spend more time with the second team."
"Pro volleyball isn't something you can compare to high school clubs," Frédéric went on.
"These guys out here?
Whether it's the training intensity or the pressure of actual games, their resolve to survive in such a competitive environment is on another level."
"Throw a high school kid into the middle of a pack like that, it's like tossing a puppy who's never had to fend for itself into a den of wolves who've been hunting their own food all their lives..."
"He'll get
apart."
José Blanco's brow furrowed ever so slightly.
Four players from the red team walked over to José Blanco.
Oikawa Tōru looked utterly frustrated.
—the door to pro volleyball was right there in front of him. He had fought so hard to make it here…
"Coach José, please, let me finish the set!"
As the timeout was called, Oikawa had noticed both coaches glancing in his direction, clearly discussing something. He could hear murmurs from the reporters on the sidelines too.
—he felt like he was so close to grasping something.
José Blanco frowned, his tone strict as he said, "Bruno, did I ever teach you to play like that?"
"And Conte—if all you wanted was to see whether Oikawa could receive a ball, I'd say he's
proved he can."
"So why are you still making him handle
alone?"
Bruno Lima fell silent.
Facundo Conte replied calmly, "He hasn't performed at a satisfactory level. I didn't think it was necessary to share the burden of reception with him."
"You're not evaluating him as a libero, are you?" José's voice grew heavier. "I didn't bring him here to try out for that position."
Oikawa, standing nearby,
—but one thing was clear:
He still had a shot!
Facundo Conte hesitated for a moment, then turned to Oikawa. "I'll give you
balls. Show me what you can do as a setter."
Oikawa: "..."
But up until now, he had been the target. He had spent the whole match forced to receive, without a single opportunity to set the ball. And with the pace of this game, having someone else pick up the first touch for him seemed almost impossible.
Facundo noticed his confusion and clarified, "You don't need to receive. Just stay behind us."
"Once the ball is up, that's when your job starts."
Oikawa understood. What surprised him was that Conte would actually offer to help him out.
"Guess I have José to thank for this," he thought to himself.
"Remember,
three balls," Conte reminded.
"I understand," Oikawa replied seriously.
-----
"You really believe in him
much?" Frédéric asked, puzzled.
"It's a common strategy for setters not to receive," José replied calmly. "In a 5–1 system, or in a double-setter setup, the core setter often focuses entirely on the offence, not on reception."
"But that only applies when the setter is the core!" Frédéric countered. "This arrangement makes it seem like he's
important to the team's strategy than Conte."
"Isn't he?" José said without hesitation. "A good setter orchestrates the entire team. No matter how strong a spiker is, they're still
one player."
Frédéric was stunned for a moment.
He let out a small sigh.
José Blanco's gaze remained fixed on Oikawa as he added slowly, "Freddy, what you said earlier about the objective factors was all true. But if we're talking about sheer determination…
underestimate a teenager who moved overseas alone right after high school."
-----
When Martín Ramos stepped up to the service line again, he noticed the red team had shifted from a four-man receive formation to three. The Japanese trial kid was now hiding behind Facundo Conte, tucked away in the back corner.
"Well, smart enough call, I guess," Martín muttered. "Aside from barely getting the ball up, that kid's done nothing useful."
He gave a smirk as he tossed the ball, took his run-up, jumped—and smashed the ball down.
Facundo Conte received the ball cleanly—but the motion stalled him slightly.
The ball flew up to the net. Oikawa moved swiftly into position, and on his right, middle blocker Nicolás Zerba and opposite spiker Bruno Lima both began to approach for an attack.
"If it ends like this…everyone back in Aoba Johsai will be so disappointed!"
Oikawa faced right, hands cupped, absorbing the ball's momentum with his wrists and fingertips before launching it out—
"What?!!"
"A back set?!"
Palacios and Martín Ramos, who had both started shifting right, were suddenly thrown off.
Everything about Oikawa's jump and hand motion had screamed
But the moment he released the ball,
his fingertips adding a subtle spin that sent the ball soaring high—toward the
.
"No way I'd fool you with anything less than this!"
A grin tugged at Oikawa's lips. He had successfully pulled the blockers away.
As for the fact that Conte had
received the ball? Oikawa wasn't worried—at this level, he knew Conte would keep up.
Conte leapt up on the left.
"I
it!" Oikawa turned his head—
"What—
?!"
Palacios and Martín Ramos, who had been over on the right, were already in front of Conte.
"Double block!"
It wasn't a perfect formation, but it was a solid block right in Conte's face.
Conte's expression didn't change. He swung cleanly through the ball.
The spike shot toward the blue team's sideline—
.
A straight-line spike right on the sideline!
Point for the red team.
"They actually
shake them off?!"
Even though they'd won the point, Oikawa couldn't hide his disbelief at what had just happened.
"Hey, trial player," Conte called out to him. "If you want to become a professional, you'll need to
how you think."
"Nice set," said Nicolás with a grin. "I really thought that one was for me."
"But that kind of trick will only work once.
it's useless."
Oikawa gave him a slight nod of thanks, then hesitated before asking Conte, "Was there anything I should've adjusted about the last set?"
"It was too
and too
," Conte replied. "Were you waiting for me to finish resetting before making your decision?"
Oikawa was about to nod.
"You didn't need to. With the pace of this game, the attack plan in your head right now won't get you any points."
"That last set was worth maybe 50 points, tops."
"For the next one—set the
ball you possibly can."
"You've got two chances left."