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 - A Quiet Newcomer and the Reality Thrust Upon Them
A few days had passed since the practice match against the other school. With each practice, the air in the gymnasium grew heavier, little by little. The sound of the ball echoing off the white walls felt harder than usual.
The Inter-High preliminaries were approaching.
Sakuma Kouki stood in a spot slightly removed from the lunchtime bustle. The hallway in front of the school store. He walked along the wall, a plastic bag with bread in one hand. It wasn't that he disliked crowds. He just naturally found himself choosing places where he wouldn't stand out.
"Sakuma-kun, do you have a moment?"
The voice came from directly behind him. Small, almost a whisper. He turned to find Asakura Saki standing there.
A wolf cut with black hair reaching her chin. Her bangs swept diagonally, and her narrow, dark eyes gazed at him quietly. A small silver earring in her left ear. She wore the Aobano High uniform properly, yet there was something about her that seemed to carry a shadow.
(Saki-san...)
Kouki knew. He knew she was the other volleyball team manager, a second-year like Mio. Always standing half a step back, saying only what needed to be said. That was the impression he had of her — a quiet person.
"What... is it?"
Kouki's voice was so small he could hear it himself. A frail voice, as if catching in the back of his throat.
Saki dropped her gaze to his hands. More precisely, to the B5 notebook tucked under his arm. A darkened cover. The corners slightly bent — the analysis notebook Kouki always carried with him.
"You always have that with you, don't you."
"...I guess."
"It looks really important."
There was no warmth in Saki's voice. But there was no coldness pushing him away, either. She was simply looking. At the notebook Kouki held.
"I watched the practice match the other day."
A brief silence.
"After Mio came to you, the team's flow changed."
Kouki didn't know how to respond.
(I was being watched.)
His back began to sweat, faintly.
"That was... just a coincidence."
"I see."
Saki blinked slowly.
"...Did you and Mio become close?"
The words drifted down, soft as falling snow.
(Close? It's not like that.)
Kouki unconsciously tightened his arm around the notebook. The texture of the paper bit into his inner arm. Mio's bright smile floated up in his mind. The twilight corridor, their pinkies intertwined.
"...It's not like we're... close, or anything."
The end of the sentence trailed off, muffled.
Saki stared into Kouki's eyes. Her narrow, dark eyes. Impossible to read. But deep, as if trying to confirm something.
"I see."
A voice like a whisper.
"Then, it's fine."
Saki said that, then smiled faintly. Just the slightest curve of her lips.
"Sorry for interrupting your lunch break."
Leaving only those words behind, Saki disappeared into the crowd. What remained was the faint scent of shampoo, and the question she had left behind: "Did you and Mio become close?"
The voices of students walking through the hallway felt distant.
Kouki stood frozen.
(What was that just now?)
A small snag remained deep in his chest. Someone he had barely ever exchanged words with. And yet, why. So directly, like that.
His chest felt restless.
After school.
When he opened the clubroom door, Mio was already there. Her chestnut ponytail turned.
"Oh, Kouki-kun. Good work today."
A bright voice.
"Good work."
Kouki headed toward his locker. He straightened up to change out of his sweat-damp jersey.
"Hey, you were talking with Saki, right? At lunch."
Mio's voice was in its usual tone. But there was something probing mixed into it.
Kouki's hands stopped for a moment.
"...You saw?"
"I happened to pass by and saw you two standing and talking. I didn't call out, though."
Mio glanced at Kouki while organizing the score sheets.
"What were you talking about?"
"Nothing much. ...Just a bit about the notebook."
"The notebook?"
Mio's hands stopped.
"Did you tell Saki? About the analysis notebook?"
"I didn't. She just said I always carry it."
"Hmm..."
Mio pursed her lips slightly.
Just then, the clubroom door opened.
"Good work today."
Saki walked in. The gesture of tucking her black wolf cut behind her ear. She gave Kouki a light nod, then stood in front of her own locker.
"Saki, good work."
"Mio, good work too."
The two managers. A quiet atmosphere settled over the clubroom. Normally, Mio would start talking brightly, and Saki would respond briefly. Through that repetition, the clubroom always had a peculiar atmosphere — impossible to tell whether it was lively or quiet.
But today was a little different.
Mio placed the score sheets she had been organizing onto the desk. Then she looked toward Saki.
"Saki, do you talk with Kouki-kun often?"
Kouki was inwardly startled by those words.
(Mio...)
Saki, with her locker still open, slowly turned around.
"...Why do you ask?"
A gentle smile. Her voice was perfectly calm.
"No reason. I was just curious."
Mio also made a smile. But between the two of them, he could feel an invisible thread of tension drawn taut.
Saki closed her locker door and turned her body toward Mio. She took half a step closer.
"Mio, you're the one who talks with Sakuma-kun a lot, aren't you."
"Eh?"
"Lately, during breaks in practice, I often see you two together."
Saki's dark eyes quietly fixed on Mio.
"Did something... special happen?"
The question was turned back on her.
Mio was at a loss for words for a moment.
(I can't tell her about Kouki-kun's notebook.)
The pinky promise they'd made on that twilight corridor. The memo of their secret plan. That belonged only to her and Kouki-kun. She couldn't tell Saki.
"...Nothing special happened."
Mio said that and smiled. But inside, her heart stung, just a little.
(So this is what it feels like to keep a secret.)
The feeling Kouki-kun had — not wanting to show his notebook to anyone. She felt like she finally understood it, truly. Being probed by Saki, hiding it. It was more painful than she'd thought.
Saki didn't miss Mio's agitation.
"...I see."
She looked down, twirling the ends of her hair with her fingers.
"Then, it's fine."
Those words again. The same resonance as when she'd said them to Kouki at lunch.
Saki smiled softly.
"It's none of my business, but I'll say it just in case."
Mio swallowed hard. The girl called Asakura Saki could slip this deeply, this quietly, into the gaps of someone's heart. She felt that for the first time.
A few days later.
A crowd had formed in front of the bulletin board near the coach's office.
"It's here..." "Whoa, seriously?" "Knew it."
The voices of club members.
Kouki approached the bulletin board. There was a cold lump deep in his chest.
【Inter-High Miyagi Prefectural Preliminaries — Bracket】
Aobano Prefectural High School — First match: Seiryuu Gakuin High School
Kouki slowly traced his eyes over the characters posted on the paper.
Seiryuu Gakuin. A private powerhouse school in Miyagino Ward, Sendai. Sports scholarships. Two dedicated coaches. A gymnasium with two courts. Last year's prefectural top four.
(...I knew. I knew, but—)
Still, when reality was thrust before him, the ground beneath his feet wavered. The other club members were speechless too. A heavy, oppressive air spread through the hallway.
"Hey, Seiryuu, huh."
Suddenly, a bright voice rang out.
He turned. Hayami Ren was peeking at the bulletin board from behind the other members, popping his head out. He casually swept back his near-blond brown hair and narrowed his blue-gray eyes. His mouth was smiling.
"They were top four last year, right? Perfect for a first opponent."
Ren said that, then turned his gaze toward Kouki.
In a deliberately loud voice.
"If we've got Sakuma's scraps of paper, we can win easy, can't we?"
The surrounding members stirred.
(Scraps of paper.)
Ren's words exploded sharply in Kouki's chest.
"It's analysis, right? You've got all of Seiryuu's weaknesses written down, right? Then even top four's a breeze."
Ren's blue-gray eyes pierced through Kouki. Mockery. Hostility. And a glint of amusement.
Kouki clenched his fist. His nails dug into his palm.
"...Volleyball isn't just about brains."
Kouki raised his head. He opened his mouth to argue.
"That's why I—"
His voice trembled.
"...I know that... that alone isn't enough to win."
His throat tightened. The last part nearly faded into nothing.
Ren laughed through his nose.
"You do get it."
Leaving those words behind, he walked down the hallway.
Mio had been watching from the clubroom entrance. She glared hard at Ren. Her face looked ready to rush out at any moment. But Kouki gave a small shake of his head.
(Mio, don't.)
He wished it in his heart.
That night, Kouki made a decision.
The next day, after school.
Kouki was heading toward the staff room. Several teachers carrying documents walked through the hallway. The clamor of students heading to club activities sounded distant.
He knocked on the staff room door.
"Excuse me."
His voice came out smaller than he'd expected.
"Oh, Sakuma."
Coach Miura had his eyes on some documents. A former corporate league player. He'd retired due to a knee injury, and it had been two years since he became the advisor for Aobano High's volleyball club. He poured everything into building a team that could win.
Kouki stood in front of the coach's desk.
"...Coach, I have a request."
His heart was loud.
"For the next match, against Seiryuu Gakuin, I want to..."
One deep breath.
"I want to play in the match, too."
He said it.
The coach flipped a page of the document in his hand. He didn't look up.
"Sakuma. What is your job?"
A low voice.
Kouki swallowed.
"...To watch the match from the bench."
"That's right. To watch the match. That's your job. That's your role."
The coach finally turned toward Kouki. But his eyes were cold, as if appraising him.
"A benchwarmer saying he wants to play? Do you understand what you're saying?"
"...But I contribute to the team through analysis. I've compiled all of Seiryuu's weaknesses, and I want to play — that's all I'm asking."
"If it's analysis, do it before the match. From outside the bench."
Words that pushed him away.
Kouki pressed on.
"Coach, please. I don't want to end things sitting on the bench. I can't beat Ren or the other regulars in physical ability. But I understand Seiryuu's attack patterns and rotation habits better than anyone. I want to stand on the court, raise my voice, and help the team win."
As he spoke, he felt something hot welling up from the pit of his stomach.
The coach set his pen down on the desk.
"Sakuma, are you saying I don't acknowledge your analysis?"
"...I'm not saying that."
"Right. Those scraps of paper are somewhat useful. ...But."
The coach stood up.
"Volleyball isn't something you play with just your head. The ones who stand on the court are the ones who fight with their bodies. You're not suited for that."
A sharp pain.
"I'm building a team that can win. For that, I choose people who can put their bodies on the line. ...Your place is on the bench. Don't get in the way."
"Coach!"
"Come back when you've reconsidered. ...No, you don't even need to reconsider. You're fine where you are. If you understand, get back to practice."
The coach was no longer looking at Kouki.
When he stepped out of the staff room, the hallway air was cold.
Kouki leaned against the wall.
(Don't get in the way.)
(Your place is on the bench.)
The voice from earlier echoed round and round in his head. Ren's mockery overlapped, becoming another voice. "You're all brains." "Scraps of paper."
(I want to stand on the court. That's all.)
His eyes grew hot. He bit his lip. He tasted a faint trace of blood.
Twilight.
Long shadows in the connecting corridor.
Kouki stood still, leaning against the wall. From the direction of the gymnasium, he could hear the distant shouts of the club members.
(P
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