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 voiceless scream, a moment that tears the throat.
The ball slammed against the floor right in front of him.
The sharp *bang* was swallowed up by the high ceiling of the gymnasium. Kamisugi General Gymnasium, main arena. Applause and cheers erupted from the stands, and Seiryuu Academy's cheering squad pounded their taiko drums.
Sakuma Kouki sat at the edge of the bench, gripping the B5 notebook on his knees. His fingertips had gone white.
*(That last toss — his right foot stepped forward.)*
The same thought had been repeating in his head dozens of times already. The angle of Seiryuu Academy's setter's right foot at the moment he released a back toss. The approach angle of their ace, Fujitsuka. The receiving formation, shifted just slightly too far forward.
It was all written in the notebook.
*(Even someone like me could — if they just did this —)*
His mouth was dry. When he tried to speak, the words tangled in the back of his throat, and only breath escaped.
Before leaving the players' waiting room, Mio had come to see him.
"Kouki-kun, your jersey number's crooked."
Her voice was bright. She reached toward his back, her usual ponytail swaying. A faint scent of shampoo drifted from her chestnut-brown hair.
"O-oh…… thanks."
The words wouldn't come out properly. Pre-game tension had pooled something cold at the pit of his stomach. Strange sweat was breaking out. Mio looked at his expression and smiled gently.
"You'll be fine. Just being here — that's what matters, Kouki-kun."
Those words meant everything to him.
But.
*(Just being here, huh.)*
In the back of his mind, Ren's sneer resurfaced.
Pre-game warm-ups. Just before stepping onto the court, Ren had passed by Kouki's side. His blue-gray eyes flicked down. The corner of his mouth curled upward.
"Scraps of paper can't score points, can they?"
A click of the tongue. Mockery. His 184-centimeter frame loomed over Kouki like a shadow.
Kouki's legs trembled.
He tried to say something back. But the words wouldn't come. It wasn't anger, or even embarrassment — his throat simply constricted.
That was when Mio gently placed her hand on Kouki's back.
"Let's go. To our spot."
Her voice was calm. But her eyes were fixed firmly on Ren.
The match was one-sided from the moment it began.
Seiryuu Academy's ace, Fujitsuka. 192 centimeters. He slammed the ball over Aobano's block as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
*Bashin.*
The receiver's arms were knocked away.
*Bashin.*
The ball hammered into the court.
*Bashin.*
Another point.
Aobano's receiving had completely broken down. Fujitsuka's spikes came from too high a contact point. The block couldn't even get a one-touch. They threw themselves to the floor chasing the ball, but their arms couldn't keep up.
"Damn it!"
Ren's expression grew darker by the second. Even when they managed to attack, the receive wouldn't come back clean, so they were forced into second-touch sets. Their ace's power was spinning uselessly.
Coach Miura called a timeout.
"Guts! Show some guts!"
He barked in a low voice.
"The opponent is strong. But don't lose in spirit!"
That was all. No concrete instructions. Nothing but emotion. The players hung their heads, breathing hard.
Kouki watched his teammates beside him, heads bowed.
*(No. This isn't about guts.)*
His mouth felt glued shut. He wanted to open the notebook. On the two-page spread, Fujitsuka's shot distribution was mapped out in color-coded detail. The setter's tendencies. Arrows running across the court diagram.
*(Fujitsuka, when he hits from the middle — his right shoulder drops. He wants to go cross-court. But the out-of-bounds line is……)*
In his head, the perfect countermeasure was already complete.
But he couldn't voice it.
"Benchwarmers don't get a say."
Coach Miura's words echoed in the depths of his ears. That time during practice, when Kouki had timidly tried to offer advice. He'd been dismissed with a cold glare.
*(If I speak up, I'll just be a nuisance.)*
*(If I'm wrong, they'll mock me even more.)*
*("Scraps of paper" — they'll laugh at me again.)*
The notebook on his knees felt impossibly heavy. He was gripping it hard enough to bend the cover.
First set.
Seiryuu Academy took it in a rush, 25-12.
Kouki's hands moved. He opened the notebook at the corner of the bench. Not to record the flow of the match. There was still time. He needed to organize his thoughts.
*(Just a little more. I'm almost there.)*
When Fujitsuka hit from the center of the court, his head position dropped at the end of his approach. When that happened, he went straight. No — but today, on that third point earlier, it was slightly……
"Whoaaaa!"
The stands erupted.
Fujitsuka's spike stabbed into Aobano's court.
The second set was slipping away in another blowout.
Ren was losing it.
"Why can't you dig anything?!"
He made a motion like he was going to kick the ball. The referee's eyes flicked toward him for a moment.
"Ren, calm down!"
"Shut up!"
The bench had gone silent. No one said a word. The atmosphere was heavy, as if they'd already accepted defeat.
*(It's over.)*
Cold sweat ran down Kouki's back.
That was when something warm touched his hand.
He startled.
It was Mio. Sitting beside him, her hand had gently wrapped around his tightly clenched fist. Her fingertips softly worked to loosen his trembling grip.
"Why don't you just speak up?"
A small voice, right by his ear — but clear.
Kouki's chest constricted. His breath stopped. Heat rose behind his eyes.
*(Speak……)*
"I believe in your analysis, Kouki-kun."
She added more words.
"Tell everyone what you know."
The hand around his fist was small, warm, and trembling.
*(I'm scared.)*
*(But if this keeps up, we'll lose.)*
*(The team will lose.)*
*(Mio is crying — saying she'll make up for my share.)*
Something surged up from the very depths of Kouki's heart. His throat felt like it would split open.
"F-Fujitsuka's, line shot is……!"
His voice came out.
It was hoarse, cracking. But it definitely rang across the bench.
The players turned around.
Kouki gripped his own clothes. His knees, soaked with sweat. The hand holding the notebook ached as if the bones might break.
"The setter's right foot! Only on back tosses — his right foot steps half a step outward!"
He shouted. From the pit of his stomach. His throat felt like it would tear apart.
"Fujitsuka — if his body opens up, it's cross-court! If his right shoulder drops, it's straight! Blockers — don't drift after you put your hands up!"
He couldn't breathe. His vision was swimming.
"Receive positioning! One more step forward! Don't hug the lines!"
Mio was smiling through tears.
"Everyone! Do what Kouki-kun says!"
That was when Ren turned around.
"Shut up…… what the hell are you……"
"Ren-kun, listen!"
Mio stood up.
"What Kouki-kun is saying — he's not wrong!"
Coach Miura started to step out from the bench. His face was pure displeasure.
"Hey, Sakuma. You think you can just——"
"Coach!"
Mio cut him off, her voice even stronger.
"Are you okay with losing?!"
The coach's words caught in his throat. The surrounding players timidly looked at Kouki.
"……I'm not saying, do exactly what I say, but"
His voice was shaking. But it wouldn't stop.
"If you do this here, we can still dig it. We can still score. Even if it's just me — can't you trust me?"
He forced his eyes open with everything he had.
"——So, just once, try moving the way I said."
Everyone was looking at Kouki.
The noise from the stands felt distant.
His heart was about to explode.
"……Fine."
One of them nodded.
"Let's try it."
Another one.
"……If you say anything weird, I'll deck you."
Ren spat the words out and headed back onto the court.
For the first time, Kouki had given orders to the team.
The results came immediately.
On the serve receive, the ball came back to the setter. The setter, as always, chose the back toss.
*(Right foot!)*
"Cross! Don't hug the cross! One on the straight!"
His voice echoed through the gymnasium.
Fujitsuka jumped. His body opened up. He should have hit cross-court. But Aobano's block had shifted one step inward. Arms touched the ball.
— *Whack!*
The sound rang out.
"Got it!"
The receiver shouted. He chased the ball desperately, tumbling to the floor. He scrambled up and kept it alive.
Ren was running.
"Mine!"
*Bashin!*
Aobano's spike stabbed into Seiryuu Academy's court.
The crowd erupted.
*(It's working. Don't stop.)*
"Next — on the serve receive, Fujitsuka comes in from position five. Receiving stance, lean forward! He's not aiming deep — it's short!"
His voice was going hoarse. But he couldn't stop. If he stopped, he'd die.
Seiryuu Academy's coach called a timeout. He looked flustered. It was the first time Kouki had seen panic on his face.
Aobano's bench was buzzing with energy.
"Kouki, what's next?"
"Kouki, where does number 12 hit?"
Questions flew at him. Kouki opened the notebook and shouted.
"Number 12 — all his serves come to my front! In front of me, there are a lot of outs!"
Third set.
The momentum shifted.
Aobano's receiving grew more and more tenacious. Fujitsuka's spikes were being funneled into predictable lanes, caught by the block.
"Ren — on that block just now, if you're hitting near the line, go straight! It doesn't need to be hard! Mix in feints too!"
Ren turned around with a sour look.
"You're annoying……"
But on the next play, Ren really did hit it straight.
The ball sliced sharply through the gap in the opponent's block.
"……That good enough for you, brainiac?"
Ren laughed, deliberately exaggerated.
Kouki nodded.
"Even from you, those scraps of paper mean something."
Those words carried a different weight than the mockery from before.
*(……He acknowledged it.)*
In that moment, something deep in Kouki's chest grew warm.
But he still couldn't stand on the court.
Final set. A deuce battle, neck and neck.
Point for point, trading back and forth.
Kouki's voice was completely shot now — he couldn't produce anything coherent. Still, he opened his mouth. Again and again. He tasted blood in his throat.
"……One more point."
He whispered it.
Match point.
Aobano had the serve. The ball was in Ren's hands.
"……Here we go."
Ren looked across at his teammates.
"Move exactly like he said!"
The serve went in.
The opponent's receive broke down. The return went up to Fujitsuka. Fujitsuka began his approach.
*(Right shoulder — dropped.)*
"Straight!"
The words wouldn't come out.
But Aobano's blocker reacted.
*Bash!*
Fujitsuka's spike was beautifully rejected by the block.
The ball soared high.
A chance ball.
"Ren!"
The toss went up. Ren approached.
He jumped.
He swung through.
The ball was sucked into the farthest corner of the opponent's court, where no one stood.
— *Bang.*
The sound of the ball hitting the floor.
And then, the whistle.
Match over.
Aobano High School had pulled off the comeback victory.
He hadn't been able to stand on the floor — he'd been outside the court the whole time. Kouki sat on the bench, unable to move.
The cheers of victory. Teammates embracing each other. Players flooding onto the court. The crowd on their feet.
"Kouki-kun!"
Mio came running over, tears streaming down her face.
"We won! It's because of you, Kouki-kun!"
She was laughing. She was crying. That face was so bright it hurt his chest.
Kouki hung his head.
"I……"
His throat seized up. This time, for a different reason.
"I never stood on the court."
Mio's smile clouded for an instant.
"Kouki-kun……"
She opened her mouth as if to say something. But the words wouldn't come.
The cheers of the match felt distant.
He felt as though he alone had been cut off from the world.
Around the same time, in the back of the stands.
Asakura Saki clenched her palms into tight fists.
*(His voice came out.)*
*(His voice changed the team.)*
She kept her white scorebook open, writing down the sight of Kouki shouting, her vi
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