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 - The perspective of an eccentric, and the gaps in a closed heart.
The air in the first gymnasium had been crackling with tension since morning.
Three days had passed since Kouta arrived at Shiratorizawa. For three days, he had come to this place every morning. And for three days, he still didn't know what he was supposed to do here.
(...Today, too, I have no choice but to find something I can do.)
Kouta stopped at the gymnasium entrance and looked around. The moment he first stepped into this space—large enough for three volleyball courts—the records of past achievements lined up on the walls always jumped into his vision. Eight appearances at the Inter-High. Nine appearances at the Spring Tournament. These numbers told the story of just how strong Shiratorizawa's volleyball club was in Miyagi Prefecture.
Beneath those numbers, the giants had already begun their practice.
The sound of balls being struck. The sound of shoes kicking against the floor. Sharp calls. All of it mixed together, generating heat above the court. Kouta took a deep breath and stepped forward.
"Good morning."
The moment he spoke, several players glanced his way. That was all. Their gazes immediately returned to the court. No one returned his greeting.
Kouta bit his lip.
(It's been like this for three days.)
Acting manager. That was the title under which Kouta existed in this club. But the players didn't know who Kouta was. They didn't try to know, either. A small-statured man who had suddenly appeared, blending into their practice with no track record whatsoever. That fact, more than anything, seemed to make them suspicious.
Oohira Reon walked over from the side of the court. A solid build. A tall frame that must have exceeded 190 centimeters. He wasn't in uniform today—he wore a tracksuit. This man, the dorm head, apparently also had the role of assigning work to Kouta.
"Kurose."
"Ah, yes."
A strange voice came out. Oohira furrowed his brow.
"Ball pickup and score recording again today. The practice menu... I still can't give it to you."
With that, Oohira roughly thrust a tablet at him. In Kouta's hands was the tablet he'd been given three days ago. Two more of the same kind disappeared from Oohira's hands, and Kouta hurriedly caught them.
"Sorry, I still don't really understand how to use them."
"You've had three days. You should have learned by now. If you don't intend to learn, go home."
Oohira's words were always like this. Starting from negation. Pushing him away. But Kouta didn't even have the composure to read anything beneath those words. He just felt like his own incompetence was being thrust in his face.
Oohira turned his back and walked away. Kouta readjusted his grip on the tablets and headed toward the corner of the court.
The spot for ball pickup was fixed. Outside the court, behind the players practicing serves. Standing by the wall, gathering the balls that went astray.
Kouta knelt down and began the work of putting balls into the basket. Ball pickup during club activities—he hadn't done that since middle school. But back then, he'd done it with teammates. Now he was doing it alone, surrounded by strangers.
(What am I even doing here?)
When he muttered that in his heart, his chest grew heavy.
In reality, he couldn't go back anymore. The memories of his original world remained clear in Kouta's mind even now. His parents were stationed overseas, and he had been living alone in an apartment. Utterly ordinary days. Going to school, coming home, eating, sleeping. Those everyday routines felt so distant now.
He didn't have a part-time job. He wasn't in any clubs.
Ah, and he still wasn't doing anything now, either.
Ball into the basket. Pick up a ball. Put it in again. The same motions, repeated.
—That was when it happened.
"You're interesting."
A voice sounded right by his ear.
Kouta's body jolted.
Someone had wrapped their arms around his waist from behind, holding tight. Breath brushed against the nape of his neck. Warm. And then, a voice. Low, almost sweet, with something suggestive in it.
"Wha— hey—!"
Kouta spun around in a panic.
There stood a man with spiked-up hair in a two-tone color of red and black. Narrow, sharp eyes were grinning with amusement. The corners of his lips were curled upward. He was probably around 182 centimeters tall. A slender build befitting a volleyball player. He wore a uniform, with the number "5" on his chest. And his fingers were abnormally long.
Tendou Satori. Shiratorizawa's middle blocker. The wielder of the so-called unbreakable Guess Block. Kouta had seen this man many times in the original work.
"Surprised? You were surprised just now, weren't you?"
"...Ah, yes, I was surprised."
His voice trembled. Tendou laughed cheerfully—"Ahaha."
"You're Kouta-kun, right? The acting manager. I've heard about you. Hey, can I call you Kou-chan?"
"Kou... chan..."
"Yeah. Kou-chan. Cute, right? Having a Kou-chan in the volleyball club is the best."
Tendou was watching Kouta's reactions with obvious enjoyment. His eyes were smiling. But what emotion lay beneath them, Kouta couldn't tell.
"You're... Tendou-senpai, right?"
"You can drop the honorific. Just Tendou. Adding 'senpai' feels kind of stuffy, doesn't it?"
Tendou released Kouta's arm, then laced those slender, long fingers together and smiled brightly.
"Hey, Kou-chan. You've been watching the players this whole time, haven't you?"
"Eh."
Kouta was at a loss for words. He had been watching. While picking up balls, between practice drills, his eyes had been tracking the players' movements. Without thinking about anything, just observing.
"You were watching. And with incredibly attentive eyes, too. While picking up balls, you were looking at the knee angle of that kid receiving over there, the takeoff position of that spiker over here—you were watching all of it."
Tendou's voice had a teasing lilt. But the eyes looking at Kouta seemed to see through everything.
"No, that was... I was just watching where the balls flew."
"Hmm. Do people watch the trajectory of a ball with such a serious expression? Do they track the movement of a single ball with eyes like that?"
No. He really had just been watching. He wanted to say that, but the words wouldn't come. Kouta opened and closed his mouth.
"Well, whatever. The truth doesn't matter. Your eyes are rough around the edges, but they're interesting."
Tendou snapped his fingers.
"Decided. Starting today, Kou-chan is my observation subject."
"Observation... subject..."
"Yeah. It's not like I'll do anything in particular, but I thought it might be fun to observe you from up close. Hey, Kou-chan, do you enjoy watching volleyball?"
A sudden question. Kouta instinctively searched for words.
"...I don't know. I've only ever watched, and I don't really understand the rules."
"Huh. So even without understanding the rules, you still track the ball's path with eyes like that."
Tendou narrowed his already narrow eyes further and peered into Kouta's face.
"You realize, don't you? Right now, your eye movements are reacting to my words. Too interesting."
The moment Kouta wondered what that meant, Tendou spun around and started walking toward the court.
"Kou-chan, between ball pickups, come hang out with me for a bit. Let's play a fun game."
"W-wait, I still have work—"
"Ball pickup can just be gathered into the basket later. Or would you rather wait for Oohira-san to call you back?"
When Oohira's name came up, Kouta couldn't argue. Over these three days, Oohira had been steadily reducing the work he entrusted to Kouta. He wouldn't give him the practice menu. He wouldn't properly teach him how to record scores. Even ball pickup today was practically left to fend for itself.
Kouta followed Tendou. Tendou plopped down on the bench beside the court and gestured for Kouta to sit next to him.
"Hey, Kou-chan. Look over there. That first-year doing receive practice—right now, he's bothered by his right thigh. When he moves his body in front of the ball, only his right foot is slow to step out. He's not tired; it hurts a little. He pulled a muscle a long time ago. That's what that is."
Tendou said it as if it were nothing.
Kouta strained his eyes. A first-year player was practicing serve receives. Just as Tendou had said, when he moved his body into position for the ball, only his right foot was momentarily delayed.
"That setter over there with the short-cropped hair. See, the one tossing on court two. That guy—it's his right shoulder. Probably strained it during weight training yesterday. That's why his overhand form looks a little forced today. His toss height has been getting lower since this morning."
Kouta looked at the indicated player. Every time he raised a toss, only his right shoulder moved slightly early. The way he tensed was different on the left and right sides.
"That tall blocker—it's his lower back. When he lands from a jump, he always comes down on his left foot first, right? He actually wants to land on his right foot first. But his back feels heavy, so he's unconsciously protecting it. He injured his back a long time ago."
Tendou's words, like magic, accurately identified the physical conditions of player after player.
"Blocking, you see, is an art."
Tendou suddenly changed his tone.
"How the opponent will move. Where they'll jump. Where they'll hit. Reading all of that, and stopping the ball's trajectory with the tips of your fingers. It's like painting an invisible picture."
Tendou raised his fingers and made a gesture as if painting on an invisible canvas. His long fingers slowly traced through the air.
"Kou-chan, are you seeing something right now too? Watching this practice, have you noticed anything?"
Tendou's narrow eyes fixed on Kouta.
Kouta steadied his breathing. Original work knowledge. In his head, the play styles and characteristics of these Shiratorizawa players floated up, complete with images. That first-year receiver—in the original work, he didn't get much playtime until the latter half, but he was brought in mid-game for his wide defensive range. That setter had different toss habits depending on the type. That blocker had a distinctive way of jumping when lined up alongside Oohira Reon...
But was it okay to say it?
Tendou waited silently.
Kouta swallowed.
"...Um, that tall first-year spiking on court two."
"Yeah, what about him?"
"That person is probably... concerned about his left knee. I think his takeoff today is shallower than usual. He's entering from behind the ball's drop point because of that... and also, when he lands, he comes down on his right foot first."
Tendou's eyes seemed to widen just a fraction.
"...Huh."
Tendou clapped his hands. A light, crisp sound—pan pan pan.
"Kou-chan, that's amazing. That kid's left knee—he only mentioned a slight discomfort a few days ago. Nobody else has clearly noticed his condition yet, probably no one except himself. And you spotted it with a sidelong glance while picking up balls? That's the best. Too interesting."
Praise. But anxiety surged in Kouta's chest.
(I said it.)
He had used his original work knowledge to identify a player's injury. Tendou was amused. But what this meant, Kouta didn't know. This world was different from the original. How much of his original work knowledge was correct, and where it started to be wrong—Kouta himself didn't know.
"Hey, let's look at more. That receiver over there—that kid's left ankle. When he lands, the outside of his left shoe sinks. Kou-chan, can you tell?"
Tendou, as if enjoying a game, pointed at players one after another. And he made Kouta answer.
Kouta answered as much as he could. That one's right shoulder seems off right now. That player is showing fatigue. That one, on the contrary, seems to be in good condition today.
It felt like his observational skills were being tested, and at the same time, like he was opening drawers of original work knowledge.
Gradually, the players on the court began glancing over at Kouta and Tendou.
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