Kouki Sakuma, a second-year on a Miyagi high school volleyball team, is a benchwarmer hidden behind the star ace. He's not flashy, but he has watched more games than anyone. One day, manager Mio Takanashi finds his notebook packed with detailed analysis of rival schools' weaknesses. 'Wait, you wrote down all the weak points of that powerhouse school?'
From there, Mio becomes interested in Kouki. But the popular ace Ren Hayami also likes Mio. Ren sees Kouki as a rival and starts making snide rem
Screaming from the Shadows - The Ace's Sneer, First Hostility
The first gymnasium after school was still empty.
In the high-ceilinged space, white LED lights lined up at even intervals. The wooden court floor, perhaps just cleaned, carried a faint scent of wax. Folded pipe chairs along the walls stood neatly propped against them.
Sakuma Kouki was stretching alone in the farthest corner of the gym.
He was still replaying, over and over, the words Mio had said to him on the way back from the last match. *"I really think your analysis is the real thing, Kouki-kun."* Her serious brown eyes at that moment. The warm sensation when their pinkies had intertwined.
*(It's been a few days since then...)*
Before he knew it, his right hand had drifted to the back of his neck. A habit he had when he wanted to speak. Right now, though, there was no reason to raise his voice.
"Hey, Kouki, you're early."
A few first-year members entered the gym. Kouki gave them a slight nod. They already knew he kept an analysis notebook. Coach Miura had told him to show it during a previous practice. But that was all. No one expected anything from him. Ren's word—*"scrap paper"*—carried far more weight within the club.
*(Even so, I—)*
Kouki gently opened the B5-sized college notebook resting on his knees. The cover had softened at the edges from being touched too many times. He'd started in the fall of his first year, and this was his third volume. His mind was consumed with analysis of Seiryuu Academy.
An external practice match. Today, they'd be playing a public school from within the city. The opponent wasn't strong. But Ren would be fired up as always—no, more than usual.
"Alright, let's start warm-ups!"
Coach Miura's low voice echoed through the gym.
The club members slowly spread out across the court. Kouki closed his notebook and joined the circle.
After a while, the gym entrance door slid open with a loud clatter.
The one who appeared late was Hayami Ren.
He casually swept back his bright brown hair, nearly blond. His bluish-gray eyes swept across the court in an instant. A 184-centimeter frame. A black armband on his left arm. The air changed just from him walking in.
"Sorry, I'm late."
His voice apologized, but he didn't sound sorry at all. If anything, his tone suggested he took some kind of pleasure in making a late entrance.
"Ren-kun, good morning!"
A bright voice flew from the edge of the gym.
Takanashi Mio. Her chestnut-brown hair, long enough to reach her chest, was tied up in a ponytail again today. A small volleyball necklace swayed at her neck. She walked over to the side of the court, holding a scoreboard.
The moment he saw Mio's smile, Ren's eyes narrowed just slightly.
"Hey, Mio. Cute as always today."
"Saying that again. Save your energy for the match, ace."
Mio replied lightly. It was a familiar exchange. But at that moment, Mio's gaze flicked toward Kouki.
"Kouki-kun, is it okay if I use your analysis notes for today's match?"
Kouki felt as if his heart had been seized and squeezed.
*(In front of everyone, something like that—)*
"...Yeah, sure."
His voice came out small again. Flustered, the end of his sentence faded into a mumble.
Ren had watched the entire exchange. His bluish eyes, looking displeased, shifted back and forth between Kouki and Mio.
"...Huh."
A low voice.
Ren slowly approached Kouki. Staring straight into his eyes the whole way.
"You. Opening that notebook again—what the hell are you doing?"
His tone was provocative.
"What good is a benchwarmer opening a notebook?"
Kouki couldn't respond.
*(That's wrong. It's not useless. Before, Mio said it was amazing—)*
But the words wouldn't come out. They swirled in the back of his throat and vanished.
Kouki reflexively clutched the notebook to his chest. As if shielding his own body.
That day, Ren was clearly in a bad mood.
His spikes during practice were sharper than usual. Each impact of the ball against the floor seemed to reverberate in the pit of Kouki's stomach. Coach Miura, looking pleased, nodded repeatedly.
Kouki, feeding balls for receive practice, kept thinking the whole time.
*(Ren... he's really bothered about Mio today.)*
Every time Mio came near him, Ren's gaze stabbed sharply in his direction. But there was no way Kouki could point that out.
Eventually, break time came. The club members wiped their sweat and hydrated. Kouki decided to go retrieve something he'd forgotten in the clubroom. The replacement lead for his new notebook should have been in his locker.
Second floor of the clubroom building. When he opened the old wooden door, a quiet, empty space awaited him.
Steel lockers lined the wall. In the center of the room stood two old pipe desks. On the whiteboard, today's match roster was written.
Kouki opened his locker and took out the replacement lead. While he was at it, he set the analysis notebook he'd been carrying on the desk and tried to check the practice footage of the opposing team he'd shot that morning on his phone.
That was when it happened.
*Clack.*
The door opened.
*(Again...)*
Something like this had happened before. That time, it had been Mio.
But the footsteps and the presence of the person who entered now were completely different.
"Yo."
It was Ren.
Ren walked into the clubroom and looked straight at the desk. At the analysis notebook Kouki had been about to open.
"That the scrap paper?"
A thin smile formed on Ren's lips.
"Let me see it."
"Eh..."
There was no time to resist. Ren reached out with his long arm and snatched the notebook off the desk.
"Wh-what are you—"
"Shut up. I'm just taking a look."
Ren flipped through the pages with a rustling sound.
"...What the hell is this? It's nothing but numbers and drawings."
His fingers slid carelessly across the pages. Across the court diagrams Kouki had spent hours writing.
"You think you can win with this scrap paper?"
Ren's voice echoed coldly through the clubroom.
"Volleyball isn't about your head. It's about your body. How high you can jump, how hard you can hit. That's everything."
Kouki clenched his fists. His nails dug into his palms.
*(I want to compete with my body too. On the court.)*
But he could only stay silent. If he said anything here, it would only get worse.
"A national-level spiker can't be stopped by this kind of play-analysis."
Ren flicked the page about Seiryuu Academy's ace with his fingertip.
"You'll never be anything but a brain."
Those words pierced Kouki's chest.
"...Stop it!"
Suddenly, a voice flew from the clubroom entrance.
It was Mio.
She was glaring at Ren with steady eyes. Her ponytail swayed slightly with anger.
"Ren-kun, how can you say that?! Kouki-kun's notebook is actually helping the team!"
"Mio... when did you—"
"I heard everything you just said. It's too cruel."
Mio snatched the notebook from Ren's hands and hugged it to her chest, as if it were something precious.
"Kouki-kun watched more matches than anyone and wrote this with everything he had."
Ren's expression shifted slightly.
"...Hmph. The manager acting like she knows everything."
"I do know. I know Kouki-kun's analysis is the real thing. And you know it too, Ren-kun."
At those words, Ren's eyebrow twitched.
"...Shut up."
With just that, Ren yanked the clubroom door open and stormed out.
The two of them were left alone in the clubroom.
"I'm sorry, Kouki-kun. If only I'd come sooner..."
Mio, looking apologetic, held the notebook out to Kouki.
"...No."
Kouki took the notebook. His hands were trembling faintly.
"Thank you."
He barely managed to force out those words.
Mio had come to the clubroom. That alone eased the pain in his chest that had felt ready to burst. But Ren's words still clung to the inside of his ears.
*(You'll never be anything but a brain.)*
The next day. The day of the external practice match.
The venue was Aobano High School's first gymnasium. Since it was a practice match with another school invited, there were few spectators. Still, the reserve players sat in chairs lined up around the court.
Kouki sat at the very edge of the bench.
In his hands: his analysis notebook and a stopwatch. He spun a ballpoint pen between his fingers, over and over. He couldn't settle down.
*(The opponent is a public school from within the city. But we can't let our guard down.)*
Today's opponent wasn't much of a powerhouse. Still, Kouki had properly checked the opposing team's match footage before the game.
*(That setter has a strange habit.)*
The opposing setter always shifted his weight onto his right foot before raising a toss. And then, the direction of the toss would drift off from the front of his body. It was visible over and over in the footage.
The match began.
First set. Aobano High, led by Ren's powerful attacks, widened their lead from the start.
"Nice kill! Ren!"
"As expected!"
Ren's spikes landed one after another.
But Kouki's eyes were tracking the opposing team's setter.
*(...Ah, he just leaned left.)*
Just before the setter raised a back toss, his left foot slid outward by a few centimeters. The next moment, the toss drifted toward the open side.
*(That wasn't intentional. It's a habit.)*
Kouki immediately opened his notebook. He hurriedly ran his pen across the court diagram.
"Kouki-kun, what's wrong?"
Mio, sitting next to him, asked in a small voice.
"...That setter on the other team—before he raises a back toss, he slides his left foot outward. He has a habit of shifting his center of gravity to the left. If we use that against him..."
Kouki lowered his voice and began explaining so only Mio could hear.
"The block... might be better shifted half a step to the right from where it is now."
"Wait, really? What did you see to figure that out?"
"That setter's... feet. The split-second movement before he raises the toss..."
That was as far as Kouki got.
"Timeout!"
The players gathered in a huddle at the side of the court. Ren stood at the center. He pushed back his sweat-soaked hair and breathed heavily through his shoulders.
"Ren, your contact point is low. The block is getting up."
"I know. But their block's timing is starting to match up..."
At that moment, Ren's eyes turned toward Kouki. More precisely, toward the sight of Kouki whispering into Mio's ear.
"...Hey, Kouki."
Suddenly, Ren spoke to him.
"What've you been whispering to Mio about? It's creepy."
A cold, sharp voice.
"Benchwarmers should stay quiet."
Kouki's throat went dry in an instant.
The eyes of the surrounding club members all turned toward Kouki at once.
*(If I say anything here—)*
The stares hurt. Ren's eyes were openly hostile.
"...Sorry."
Lowering his head and apologizing quietly was all Kouki could manage.
At that moment, a strong voice rose from beside him.
"Ren-kun!"
Mio had stood up.
"Kouki-kun found a weakness in the opposing setter. He said the block should shift to the right..."
"Mio, stay out of this."
Ren cut her off with a wave of his hand.
"I'm the one who understands what's happening on the court better than anyone. Analysis this, weaknesses that—none of it matters."
In that instant, Kouki lost his voice.
*(No matter what I say here, it's useless.)*
The match resumed.
Kouki sat on the bench, just staring at the court.
*(Mio... I'm sorry.)*
He glanced beside him. Mio was biting her lip, taking notes. She was meticulously copying down Kouki's earlier observations into her own notebook.
*(She's not letting my words go to waste.)*
That made him happy. But at the same time, his own powerlessness squeezed at his heart.
In the second half, the flow of the match began to shift, little by little.
Mio had been casually mentioning things to the players during timeouts and between rotations. *"The opposing setter leans left on back tosses."*
At first, the club members were skeptical. But then they witnessed it with their own eyes—the opposing setter's left foot drifting as he raised back tosses.
"It's true...
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