When he woke up, he was in the world of volleyball. High schooler Kota Kurose suddenly finds himself transported into the world of 'Haikyuu'. Unknown ceiling, unknown bed, and in front of him stands a giant of a man.
"You're going to be our temporary manager starting today."
He was told this at Shiratorizawa Academy. The strongest volleyball team, feared as the absolute champions. While searching for a way home, Kota ends up working as a makeshift manager. He has zero volleyball experience. Bu
Black Wings and the White Net - An unfamiliar ceiling, and a strike that draws you in.
When I woke up, I was staring at an unfamiliar ceiling.
White. Incredibly white. Not the grimy, stained ceiling of my apartment. A smooth, pristine ceiling that looked brand new.
Kurose Kouta sat up.
"……Huh?"
His voice was so hoarse he barely recognized it as his own.
The room was about six tatami mats in size. A bed, a desk, a closet. Simple, but tidy like a hotel room. An unfamiliar room. An unfamiliar smell. Unfamiliar light.
His heart started pounding like a frantic drum.
"What is this place……"
He tried to remember yesterday. Came home from school, ate dinner, took a bath, messed around on his phone, went to sleep. That was it. Alone in his room. So why—
He noticed a white envelope placed by his pillow.
He picked it up. Inside were several documents.
*Special Transfer Student Acceptance Form*
A name was written on it.
*Shiratorizawa Academy, First Year — Kurose Kouta*
"Kurose, Kouta……"
His own name. But Shiratorizawa Academy? Transfer? What was all this?
His fingertips trembled faintly.
Tuition and dormitory fees — fully covered by the school. Words like that lined the page. It made no sense. Why, how, who—
He'd been thrown into an unknown world.
His mind understood that much. But he was scared. More than anything, he was terrified.
Kurose Kouta got out of bed.
A uniform hung over the back of a chair. A white shirt and navy slacks. On the chest, a school emblem he'd never seen before.
He looked at his own body. Thin arms. Thin legs. His height…… probably the same as before. Around 168 centimeters.
There was a mirror on the desk.
He peered into it.
Black, slightly wavy short hair. Calm brown eyes. A silver earring in his right ear.
"……That's me, right?"
He said it aloud to confirm.
It didn't feel real. Maybe he was just half-asleep. Thinking that, he pinched his cheek. It hurt. It really hurt.
No good. This wasn't a dream.
He took one deep breath.
Anyway, let's go outside. That's what he decided.
He opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
The building was silent.
Morning light streamed in through the windows. A long corridor. Doors lined up at regular intervals. Every single one identical in shape.
"This is a dorm……"
He remembered the documents mentioned "Washio Dormitory." Yeah, this felt like that.
He walked slowly down the hallway.
Only his footsteps echoed, unnaturally loud.
"Hey."
A voice suddenly called out.
His shoulders jumped.
He turned around to find a man standing there.
Huge. Absolutely massive. Had to be at least 190 centimeters. A solid, powerful build. Closely cropped hair. Sharp, piercing eyes.
The man glared down at Kouta.
"You're Kurose Kouta, yeah?"
"……Yes."
His throat was bone dry.
"I'm Ohira Leon. Dorm head of this building."
Ohira crossed his arms. His biceps might have been thicker than Kouta's thighs.
"Starting today, you're the volleyball club's acting manager."
"……What?"
Manager? Acting? Why?
The questions caught in his throat.
"You're not a player. You're support. Ball management, scorekeeping. You'll handle the grunt work too."
A commanding tone that brooked no argument.
"Understood?"
He couldn't even respond.
Without another word, Ohira turned his back and walked away.
Heavy footsteps lingered in the hallway.
Kouta stood frozen in place.
*(I'm a foreign object in this world.)*
No place had been prepared for him from the start.
That's what he felt.
He had no place.
When that sank in, tears nearly spilled over.
His feet moved on their own.
I have to run.
But where?
No matter how much he thought, there was no answer.
Before he knew it, he'd bolted out of the dorm.
Outside, it was an autumn sky.
The cool breeze felt pleasant against his sweaty forehead.
The sky was high, clouds drifting slowly.
The campus was quite large.
Shiratorizawa Academy.
Kouta pulled out his phone. For some reason, it had been in his pocket.
He opened the map app.
Current location: outskirts of Sendai City, Miyagi Prefecture.
"Sendai……"
A place name he recognized.
But to be sure, he studied the map again carefully.
On the screen: Shiratorizawa Academy, Sendai City Gymnasium, Karasuno High School.
……Karasuno High School.
He'd seen that before.
No, wait.
Kouta checked the date on his phone.
October.
Yes, that seemed right.
And then, in his pocket, he remembered the existence of the manga he'd been reading in his original world.
*Haikyu!!*
A volleyball manga.
The protagonist was at Karasuno High School, and the rival was Shiratorizawa Academy.
And now, he was at that very Shiratorizawa Academy.
"No way, that's impossible—"
His voice trembled.
His legs went weak.
What on earth was this world?
Reality? A dream? Or inside a manga?
His mind was a jumbled mess.
Someone tell me. Anyone.
But there was no one.
He walked.
Aimlessly, just walking.
He vaguely registered the names of buildings entering his vision.
*Gymnasium 1*
A gymnasium, huh.
He stopped in his tracks.
Sounds came from inside.
The sharp crack of a ball being struck.
The bounce of a ball against the floor — thump, thump.
And a sound like the air itself being torn apart.
Kouta walked toward the gymnasium entrance as if drawn in.
The door was slightly ajar.
He peered inside.
Spacious.
The ceiling was high, distant.
The walls were decorated with countless certificates and championship banners.
*National High School Comprehensive Athletic Tournament — Participant*
*All-Japan Volleyball High School Championship — Winner*
Right, Shiratorizawa Academy was the undisputed powerhouse of Miyagi Prefecture.
A prestigious school with an insanely strong volleyball club.
He felt it anew.
In the center of the court stood a man.
A tall man in uniform.
Shiratorizawa's ace — Ushijima Wakatoshi.
Yes, he'd definitely been in that manga.
And now he was right there, in front of him.
Ushijima called for a toss.
His approach.
Two steps, three steps — then he jumped.
That leap didn't look human.
His contact point was incredibly high.
And then he swung through.
*BOOM.*
The sound reverberated to the pit of his stomach.
The ball slammed into the court floor.
For an instant, the floor seemed to dent.
The air vibrated with intensity.
Kouta's heart pounded violently.
He couldn't breathe.
His entire body was frozen, as if turned to stone.
That's right. This was the same sight he'd seen on TV back in middle school.
The Little Giant.
That player who, with a small body, spiked over massive blockers.
Back then, too, his chest had burned with emotion.
It was the same now.
Hot.
The center of his chest was slowly, steadily burning.
"……Do you need something?"
In a low voice, Ushijima was looking at him.
His eyes were calm.
Impossible to read.
Just staring straight at Kouta.
"N-no, um……"
His voice cracked.
He had to say something.
But the words wouldn't come.
Without another word, Ushijima looked away.
He picked up a towel placed by the wall and disappeared into the back of the gymnasium.
Kouta collapsed to the floor, limp.
*(That was incredible. So that's Shiratorizawa's ace.)*
The intensity was on a completely different level from reading about it in the manga.
I want to be like that.
The thought came to him suddenly.
It was the first impulse of its kind he'd felt in sixteen years of living.
In his original world, he'd never seriously wanted to do anything.
He'd just gone along with everyone else, keeping his head down, burning through each day.
But now.
In this world, for the first time, a fire had been lit in Kouta's heart.
No — it was just beginning to catch.
Whether that was joy or pain, he couldn't tell yet.
But it was definitely hot.
After a while, Kouta left the gymnasium.
He was hungry.
Of course he was. He hadn't eaten anything since morning.
Walking through campus, he found a cafeteria labeled "Green Terrace."
A student dining hall.
Inside, people were scattered sparsely.
Kouta bought the daily special (550 yen) from the ticket machine. For some reason, his wallet had been in his pocket. There was some money inside.
He didn't understand any of it, but at least the details lined up.
He set his tray down at a window seat.
A TV was installed in the corner of the cafeteria.
A news program was playing.
"—News that has shaken the high school volleyball world in the prefecture. During a practice match held yesterday, the ace of a powerhouse school suffered an injury of unknown cause. He damaged knee ligaments, a serious injury requiring six months for full recovery."
His chopsticks stopped.
"This accident has forced the team, which was aiming for the national tournament, to suffer a major loss in strength. According to officials, there is nothing suspicious, but there are growing concerns among the public about the recent string of injuries to players from powerhouse schools."
*The Serial Injury Case of National Powerhouse Schools*
The phrase surfaced in Kouta's mind.
This…… shouldn't have been in the original.
No, more precisely — there was no such incident.
A chill ran down his spine.
This world was different from the original.
Something was wrong.
"Injuries of unknown cause, huh……"
He muttered.
Accidental coincidence?
Or—
Something cold ran down his back.
If this was intentional—
Who, and for what purpose?
Kouta searched for news videos on his phone.
Numerous similar stories came up.
Over six months: eight powerhouse schools nationwide, twelve regular players.
Knees, ankles, shoulders.
All serious injuries that threatened their playing careers.
The common thread: every single one was an ace-level player from a seeded school for the Inter-High or Spring Tournament.
Unpleasant sweat trickled down his sides.
*(This is definitely something.)*
Kouta alternated between the map app and the news articles on his phone.
It was definitely strange.
The place names and school names in this world were almost identical to those in Haikyu!!.
But this "serial injury case" absolutely wasn't in the original.
"So it's like a parallel world or something,"
His mutter dissolved faintly into the air.
He was confused.
Scared.
He wanted to go back to his original world.
But he had absolutely no idea how.
He had no choice but to live in this world as Kurose Kouta.
As the acting manager.
That was reality.
Kouta shoveled down the rest of his daily special.
Honestly, he barely tasted it.
But his stomach was full.
He finished eating and left the cafeteria.
Outside, the signs of evening were already approaching.
The sky was beginning to tint orange.
Kouta took a deep breath.
The air was cold.
His head cleared a little.
Ushijima's spike from earlier.
That *BOOM*.
He couldn't forget it.
He wanted to go back to his original world.
But he also wanted to see that strike again.
Contradictory.
He knew it.
But both were his true feelings.
*(Because I'm weak.)*
He felt pathetic.
Stay in this world, or search for a way home?
He couldn't choose.
So he had no choice but to go with the flow.
He trudged along the path back to the dorm.
A small stone lay at his feet.
Almost without thinking, he kicked it.
*Clack.* A dry sound.
He kept kicking it for a while.
It reminded him of walking home as a kid, kicking stones like this.
Back then, there was nothing to worry about.
He just had to go home.
Now, it felt like his home, his safe place — all of it was gone.
The stone fell into a drainage ditch.
Kouta stopped.
He looked up at the sky.
A single first star of the evening.
Shining all alone.
Just like me in this world.
The thought made him laugh.
But laughing made him feel a little better.
He returned to the front of the dorm.
Ohira was standing at the entrance.
When he spotted Kouta, he handed something over.
"A tablet. It's got practice menus and data on opposing schools. Starting today, learn the job with that."
It was thrust at him roughly.
Heavy. Solid.
A latest-model tablet device.
"……I'll do it. The actin
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