Haikyuu: Zero To Almighty

In the end, just watching recordings wasn't enough to truly
what it was like to be on the court in person.
Whether it was the rhythm of offence or the rhythm of defence—it all once again exceeded Oikawa Tōru's expectations.
And yet, a thrilled smile remained on Oikawa Tōru's face.
"This is
much fun."
"
is exactly why I wanted to go overseas—this is world-class volleyball!"
"Body, technique, mind—
visible concept is on a completely different level!"
"
—setting still feels the same! The setter is the commander on the court."
"And I'm going to make
use of these guys!"
Facundo Conte stepped up to the service line. His eyes couldn't help but flick briefly toward Oikawa Tōru. After that one set earlier, something about that tryout player had
...
"Whatever. He's just a tryout."
Facundo tossed the ball, took his approach, jumped, and smashed it.
The ball cut a sharp arc across the air, flying toward the red team's court.
From Oikawa's perspective, it was easy to see—not only did the ball drop sharply in the vertical direction, its horizontal movement was also
.
The ball hit the floor. Martín Ramos hadn't even figured out where it was going to land.
Facundo Conte's serve scored directly!
"Damn it!" Martín Ramos muttered under his breath.
Facundo's sudden burst of power had caught them completely off guard.
"Stay sharp. This is still part of our training." Palacios said firmly.
"Got it!"
Facundo launched his second serve. Matías Sánchez received it.
Palacios moved into position and set the ball to the right side. Boris Danov soared up for the spike.
"Whoa! Nice!" Oikawa watched the front row with amazement.
Nicolás, who had been stationed at the centre, was already in position in front of Boris Danov. With him handling the block, the pressure on the back row was greatly reduced.
The spike skirted the block and crashed down inside the court. Oikawa moved forward to receive.
"Mine!" Bruno Lima shouted.
The ball was received cleanly and sent toward the net. The moment Oikawa heard the call, he immediately understood the meaning
"Right wing!"
Facundo Conte and Nicolás instantly shifted from defence into offence, leaping simultaneously from either side.
This was the moment to test Oikawa—to see whether he could
deliver the ball right to the hitters!
"Didn't think I'd use
kind of set here."
As he recalled the sensation of setting a
attack for Taichi, Oikawa gave a bitter smile. To
guys, a so-called
might just be the
pace for their rhythm.
The ball shot out like a
beam, flying straight toward the left side.
"That brat! Knew he was faking again!"
Martín Ramos had read Oikawa's true setting direction a split second early—but he had only taken one step when the ball was already high in the air on the left!
Completely different from his last set!
Facundo Conte's eyes narrowed. He swung his right arm down hard—
"Tch!"
Missed it!
The ball flew out of bounds.
Blue Team scores.
Unlike the murmuring from the sidelines, Facundo Conte stood frozen.
"That one was
mistake, Conte," José Blanco muttered quietly from the sidelines.
Facundo had jumped ahead of time, preparing for the ball in mid-air.
the ball had been set
right in front of him. But the moment's delay caused by the
speed of the pass made it clear the swing had been too late.
"Ah, my bad," Oikawa said. "I thought the timing was right."
"Keep going," Facundo said, eyes sharp as they locked onto Oikawa. "Next time, give me that
ball."
...Oikawa thought.
"Got it."
Anyone who knew Oikawa would've recognised the familiar smile that had reappeared on his face.
Serve rotation.
.
"Aim at the tryout!" Martín Ramos shouted.
If before, they were targeting Oikawa because he was
, now it was because Martín Ramos had sensed a
from his sets.
Oikawa was now stationed behind three teammates. Trying to go after him directly wouldn't be easy.
Matías stretched out his arms and balanced the ball flat in front of him. His eyes locked onto Oikawa just above the top of the ball.
"Shorter approach distance…"
The whistle for serve sounded.
The ball flew toward the red team's back row.
A jump float!
But—it was only as fast as a
high school jump serve!
Just before it reached Oikawa, the ball suddenly plummeted. Bruno Lima couldn't help him here—not in this situation!
"Is there going to be another sudden drop?"
Oikawa didn't rush the reception. Instead, he stepped back and quickly lowered his center of gravity.
Sure enough, the ball shifted again mid-drop. Oikawa adjusted his balance toward the left.
A clean receive!
"Ha!" Even Oikawa couldn't hide the surge of excitement inside. "If those guys were here, they'd be shouting something like,
right about now!"
Bruno Lima moved in to cover.
Unlike Oikawa's more variable sets, Bruno's choice was crystal clear.
"Conte!"
The ball soared high toward the middle—
"Double block!" Palacios and Martín Ramos jumped together.
The ball slammed hard into the court, bouncing high into the air.
Facundo Conte scores.
This—was clearly his preferred way of scoring.
"How high was that just now? 3.6 meters? 3.7?"
During his high school years, the highest hitters he'd seen were Ushijima Wakatoshi and Kaedehara Taichi.
Taichi's max reach/block was 3.45m/3.3m. In official matches, Oikawa had occasionally felt like Taichi could even reach 3.5m.
Even after joining the national team, Oikawa hadn't seen a single spiker hit over 3.6 meters.
But just now—
spike…
From Oikawa's perspective, it might've already surpassed 3.6.
Oikawa calmed his mind.
Precisely because of this—
—he must not fall on the very first step toward the world stage!
The serve rotated again. Oikawa walked to the service line.
"I have to seize every opportunity.
—burning out doesn't matter!"
The whistle sounded.
Oikawa gently tossed the ball into the air. In that instant, there was nothing else in his eyes.
The sound of his palm striking the ball was sharp and clean. The ball drifted through the air like a mirage, wobbling as it floated across the red team's court and landed in front of the four players on the blue team.
"What the hell is this?" Even Boris Danov scoffed in disdain.
If Oikawa's powerful jump serves earlier still had some form and threat, then this attempt—
—looked utterly harmless.
Even if it changed direction mid-air, he could easily react.
Boris stepped forward, raising his arms overhead, ready to receive it. The ball's path was clearly visible in his eyes. The only odd thing was—it didn't seem to be spinning.
At the moment the ball crossed the three-meter line, it suddenly lost all momentum and dropped straight toward the floor.
"What the hell is that?!"
Boris Danov, who had just seemed so relaxed, was instantly thrown into a panic. Time seemed to stretch endlessly in that split second. He didn't have time to think—he could only throw himself forward with all his might.
The ball bounced off the ground just in front of him, veering off course.
A complete miss.
Oikawa's serve landed as an ace!
"I get it now—why you're interested in him, José," Frederic muttered. "He's clever. And he applies that intelligence
in volleyball."
"That serve wasn't anything special. Japanese players usually try that kind of thing when they're out of options. But under high-pressure conditions, a serve like that is usually treated as a chance ball."
"But Boris let his guard down."
"He still had the impression of Oikawa's previous power jump serve and of Matías' jump float. Both of those were still lingering in his mind."
"Plus, with this match not allowing short serves to the front court, Boris didn't even consider that the serve could be aimed right at the three-meter line."
"He's just a trainee, and he made such a basic mistake," Frederic said coldly. "Seems like he still hasn't matured enough down in the reserves."
"You idiot! How could you miss that kind of serve?!" Martín Ramos shouted without a hint of restraint on the court.
"Sorry!!" Boris Danov shouted, his eyes darting nervously toward the coach on the sidelines. Training with pro players was hard enough—it was already difficult just to avoid making mistakes...
"It's all
fault!!" Boris Danov turned his anger toward Oikawa, who once again stepped up to the service line.
Feeling the wave of anger from across the net—
Oikawa: "???"
Wait,
mad? Isn't it
fault for not receiving it properly?
Oikawa couldn't help but think:
"Well then...I'll start with you." Oikawa tossed the ball and served again.
"No tricks this time," Martín Ramos thought to himself.
Boris Danov received it cleanly. The ball shot diagonally toward the net.
"Idiot!"
Matías hadn't expected the receive to go crooked—
. Not flustered in the slightest.
"A setter doesn't need any fancy theatrics. Just deliver the ball to the hitter's comfort zone—that's enough."
Matías moved quickly into position and sent the ball soaring to the right side.
Martín Ramos leapt for the spike.
"Double block!" Facundo Conte and Nicolás Zerba jumped together.
The heavy diagonal spike cut across the court toward the red team's corner.
"Get it!" Bruno Lima shouted.
"Conte—middle!"
Oikawa sprinted to the baseline, and in that brief moment where he turned sideways, his finger pointed straight at the middle zone in the air!
"This guy..."
Conte immediately pulled back from the net, gaining momentum for his approach.
The long-distance set flew from the baseline and aligned perfectly with Conte's highest reach. Distance, height, timing—
was just right.
"That's perfect," Conte muttered, impressed.
Once again, he spiked over the double block with a powerful mid-court attack.
Facundo Conte scored.
"Nice set," Conte praised calmly.
"Thanks!
—nice spike!" Oikawa smiled sincerely.
The score was now only one point apart. For the first time, Oikawa felt like he was
becoming part of the team.
The red team continued serving. Oikawa sent out a third serve.
This time, Boris Danov, now composed, received the ball cleanly and passed it right on target.
Matías evaded the blockers and set to the left wing—Palacios spiked and scored.
"In terms of rhythm and smoothness, Ramos' side still has the edge," Frederic noted. Still, even he was starting to look forward to what other surprising plays Oikawa might pull off.
Serve rotation.
.
Palacios unleashed a powerful sidespin serve—Bruno Lima received it.
Oikawa rotated into position. The moment his eyes glanced left, Facundo Conte began his approach.
"This is amazing—no words needed to communicate!"
Conte jumped on the left wing. Oikawa sent the set flying.
This speed!
But what Oikawa didn't expect was—
In that moment, the one feeling the most pressure...was Facundo Conte.
He swung his right arm hard—
"You've got to be kidding! Don't underestimate me!!"
Just as he began to fall, Conte whipped his
arm forward and struck the ball from behind.
The ball hit the floor.
Conte's spike landed out of bounds. Point to the blue team.
-----
In the end, Oikawa's red team still didn't win the training match.
—
"Congratulations, Oikawa," said José Blanco. "Starting next week, you'll be training with the first team."
"That's amazing!!" Oikawa couldn't help shouting. It wasn't just the joy of passing the trial—more importantly, it meant he'd get to keep playing in matches of this level.
"Don't get too excited. You'll still be starting out as a bench player."
"Yes, sir!"
At that moment, Facundo Conte approached with a serious expression. He looked at Oikawa and asked:
"How can you make a set like that?"
The way he had sent that ball—
—like someone had been spiking it regularly…
"Because back in my high school volleyball club," Oikawa replied naturally, "there was a guy who
wanted to spike that kind of ball."
"You mean...
?" Conte asked, visibly shocked. "How old is he now? Is he a pro?"
"He's sixteen, I think. Not a pro yet."
"Is that so?" Conte looked thoughtful.
—and made the national team that same year.
"He must be your team's ace, right?" Conte asked again. After all, it took incredible skill to hit a ball at that speed and timing.
"Of course," Oikawa said. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he added:
"He's the
ace of our generation."
"Oh?" That word—
—piqued Conte's interest.
"Kaedehara Taichi."
"It won't be long," Oikawa said, his voice filled with conviction, "before the
knows that name."