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 crumbling stronghold and the bare malice
The morning practice resumed, and the first gymnasium was eerily silent.
The laughter that usually echoed from the locker room, the sound of locker doors slamming shut—today, all of it felt distant, as if from another world. The team members gathered on the court with heavy footsteps. Every one of them kept their heads down, avoiding eye contact.
Ushijima Wakatoshi was not there.
The absolute ace whose left knee had been destroyed in yesterday's official practice match, diagnosed with a two-month recovery period. The symbol of Shiratorizawa. His absence pressed down on the gymnasium air like lead.
Kouta stood by the bench, clutching a tablet to their chest, unable to move. Their fingertips were cold. This sensation hadn't left them since last night.
(*I couldn't stop it.*)
The image of Ushijima collapsing was burned into the back of their eyelids. That vicious play. Seo Hayato's thin smile. Everything was connected by a single thread of malice.
And yet, they had been able to do nothing.
"Today, we start with the basic menu."
Ohira announced to the team in a low voice. A large frame exceeding one hundred ninety centimeters. The dorm head, and the team's emotional pillar. The usual dignity had vanished from his face. In its place was a shadow of someone desperately trying to maintain composure.
Ohira had to hold the team together as captain. That sense of responsibility pressed down on his shoulders like an invisible weight.
"I'll fill Ushijima's hole."
At those words, the team's gazes converged on Ohira all at once.
"The rest of you, do what you always do. Sorry, but let me take more spikes."
Kouta's chest tightened painfully.
(*Ohira-san, with that shoulder...*)
Kouta had seen it days ago. The fatigue in Ohira's right shoulder. The slight delay in his approach. The awkwardness in his arm swing. It had been worsening steadily, little by little, since a week ago.
"Ohira-senpai."
Kouta spoke without thinking.
"Your right shoulder is really stiff. Today, we should adjust the menu to reduce the load on your shoulder—"
"Kurose."
Ohira pierced Kouta with a cold gaze.
"I appreciate your concern. But this isn't the time for that. If I don't lead, this team is finished. You understand, don't you?"
Kouta bit their lip. What Ohira said was correct. But the body's condition couldn't be fixed by willpower alone.
At that moment, Tendou Satori lined up beside Kouta. Red and black two-tone hair. Without saying a word, he simply patted Kouta's shoulder. Long fingers. That gesture alone conveyed Tendou's feelings.
(*I know. You're not wrong.*)
Kouta gave a small nod.
"Alright, let's start warm-ups. Everyone, make some noise!"
At Ohira's command, the team began running. But their steps were somehow awkward. The sense of loss from the ace's absence blanketed the entire team.
Kouta set down the tablet and headed toward the ball cart. At the very least, they would do their job.
That was when it happened.
*BASHIN!!*
A sound like something bursting echoed through the gymnasium.
Kouta spun around, startled.
On the far side of the court. Ohira was sprawled face-down on the floor.
"Ohira-san!?"
Kouta sprinted at full speed. Their heart began pounding at an impossible rate.
As they got closer, Ohira was clutching his right shoulder, his face contorted in pain. Large beads of sweat poured from his forehead. His breathing was shallow and rapid.
"Gh...!"
Ohira let out a small groan.
"Ohira-senpai, your shoulder... how much does it hurt?"
Kouta gently touched Ohira's right shoulder with trembling fingers.
"Don't touch... I'm fine. It's nothing serious."
Ohira shook off Kouta's hand and tried to stand. But perhaps unable to put strength into his right shoulder, he lost his balance and dropped to his knees again.
"Ohira-senpai!"
"I can stand. I... can't afford to fall."
Ohira gritted his teeth and stood up once more. But the swelling in his right shoulder was clearly visible even through his uniform. His range of motion was obviously restricted.
"Ohira-senpai! Stop! That could be ligament damage! If you move it any more, it'll be irreversible!"
Kouta shouted desperately.
"Shut up! What does a stand-in manager like you know! If I leave the court now, who's going to support this team! Ushijima is gone! If I go down too... this team is truly finished!"
Ohira's voice rang through the gymnasium. It was less an outburst of anger than a cry of anguish.
Kouta couldn't say anything.
(*I know. I understand Ohira-san's feelings painfully well.*)
But even so, he was trying to stand on the court. Even at the cost of his own body.
Ohira staggered toward the center of the court. The team members watched in stunned silence.
"One more time. Set the ball to me."
Ohira said to Semi, the setter.
"Ohira-san... it's impossible."
"I said set it! I'll hit it!"
Semi looked back and forth between Kouta and Tendou with a bewildered expression. Tendou kept his lips pressed together, saying nothing. His usual smile had vanished.
Semi, as if steeling himself, tossed the ball.
Ohira began his approach on his injured right shoulder. But his approach was clearly sluggish, his plant step shallow.
The moment he tried to swing for the spike, Ohira's right arm went limp, hanging uselessly.
*THUD...*
Ohira's massive body collapsed to the floor again.
"Ohira-san!!"
Kouta rushed over. The team members gathered all at once.
"Ohira-san, stay with me! Ohira-san!"
Ohira appeared to be conscious. But his right shoulder wouldn't move at all. His face was pale, his breathing ragged.
"Th-this... much... I won't—"
"Don't talk! Someone, call an ambulance! No, first—towels and ice! Hurry!"
At Kouta's direction, the team members scrambled into action.
The gymnasium, which had been so quiet moments before, was now engulfed in chaos.
Kouta gripped Ohira's hand. It was slick with sweat and cold.
"It's okay, Ohira-san. We'll get you to a hospital soon."
Kouta said, their voice trembling.
Ohira spoke in a voice that seemed wrung out of him.
"Sorry... that's not it, that's not it... I just... wanted to cover for Ushijima..."
Those words carved deep into Kouta's chest.
(*I know. Everyone's desperate. Because they love this world, Shiratorizawa, and volleyball.*)
It was precisely because they loved it that they pushed themselves too hard.
And this was the result.
Ohira was transported to the hospital.
That evening, Coach Saito relayed the news to the entire team.
Ohira Satori, right shoulder ligament damage. Three weeks to full recovery.
The team's captain and emotional pillar. The second most important offensive weapon after Ushijima. Out of commission.
The team members sat silently against the training room wall. No one tried to speak.
Kouta gazed down at the night gymnasium through the glass.
(*Ushijima-san. Ohira-san. And then...*)
The prefectural qualifiers were only a short time away.
The fortress of the absolute champions, Shiratorizawa, had begun to crumble from within, audibly.
The next day.
Before morning practice, near the locker room, something went wrong.
"Ugh... gh..."
Yamagata, the libero, suddenly clutched his stomach and crumpled to the ground.
"Hey, Yamagata, what's wrong!?"
Semi supported Yamagata's shoulder. But Semi himself looked pale.
"My stomach... and I feel nauseous..."
"I've had stomach problems since this morning too..."
Semi also pressed a hand to his mouth.
Several other team members in the area were similarly clutching their stomachs and rushing to the bathroom.
"What's wrong with you guys... hey, hang in there!"
Kawanishi was panicking.
"Kawanishi, are you okay?"
Kouta asked Kawanishi.
"Y-yeah. I... ate at home yesterday morning. ...Those guys all ate curry at the dorm cafeteria for lunch yesterday."
Something clicked in Kouta's mind.
(*Dorm cafeteria... lunch...*)
Kouta grabbed Kawanishi's shoulder.
"Kawanishi, what else did they eat at the dorm cafeteria yesterday for lunch? Soup, salad, anything?"
"S-soup? Oh yeah, yesterday they served miso soup with lots of ingredients. ...Come to think of it, I thought the miso soup tasted a little weak. So I left half of it."
(*Miso soup.*)
Kouta felt the blood in their body boil.
(*Again. Someone's done something again.*)
Kouta immediately ran to the Washio dorm cafeteria.
The kitchen behind the cafeteria. Kouta stopped at the entrance.
"Oh my, Kouta-kun. What's wrong? What about practice?"
Negishi Harue, the dorm mother, stood there in an apron. Sixty-seven years old. A petite woman with white hair tied back. A culinary expert who single-handedly managed the players' nutrition. Her hands were gnarled and sturdy from years of cooking.
"Negishi-san, sorry to bother you. Is there any leftover miso soup from yesterday's lunch?"
"Yesterday's miso soup? What about it?"
Harue tilted her head.
"Um, if possible, could you show me some of the leftovers? Also, if you have yesterday's ingredient delivery slips or anything like that."
"Sure, that's fine. ...Just wait a moment."
With that, Harue disappeared into the back of the kitchen.
Kouta waited, trying to calm their racing heart.
(*Please. Let there be some trace left behind.*)
Eventually, Harue returned carrying a small pot and a piece of paper.
"This is all that's left of yesterday's miso soup. The delivery slip is here too. ...It came from the same supplier as always."
Kouta accepted the small pot.
Inside, a small amount of cloudy liquid remained.
Kouta scooped some up gently with a spoon.
(*...What is this?*)
In the miso soup, a fine white powder-like substance had settled. It was clearly different from undissolved miso paste.
Kouta picked some up with their fingertips. The particles were unusually fine.
(*Sugar? No, this is...*)
A chill ran down Kouta's spine.
(*Laxatives.*)
They were certain. Someone had crushed over-the-counter laxatives and mixed them in. The reason the soup tasted weak was because water had been added to mask the bitterness of the laxatives.
"Negishi-san, do you have any idea about this? Like, whether this kind of powder was in the miso soup?"
Harue peered into the small pot.
"Oh my... what could that be? I don't remember putting anything like that in. Of course, when I dissolve miso, I do it much more carefully, so it wouldn't settle like this."
"I thought so..."
"Kouta-kun, you don't mean... this is what made everyone sick?"
Harue's voice trembled.
"I can't say for certain yet. But I think it's highly likely. ...Negishi-san, did anyone suspicious come into this kitchen yesterday? For example, a delivery person or someone from outside?"
"Someone from outside? Yesterday, the delivery person only came in the morning. And it was the usual Yamada-san. ...Oh, but..."
Harue narrowed her eyes as if remembering something.
"In the evening, a man in work clothes came in through the back door, saying he was there to inspect the water pipes. I couldn't see his face clearly. He left after about ten minutes."
Kouta's heart leaped.
"Do you know where he inspected?"
"Well... he said he needed to check the pipes under the floor of this kitchen. He had a large toolbox. Oh, come to think of it, at that time, I was cleaning up the cafeteria... I thought I hadn't taken my eyes off the kitchen much."
Harue's memory was vague.
Kouta clenched their fists.
(*Water pipe inspection... that's it.*)
The culprit had waited for the moment Harue stepped away and mixed laxatives into the pot of miso soup.
It was calculated.
They had targeted Shiratorizawa's dorm food from the start.
There was no evidence.
But their intuition told them, more clearly than ever before.
(*Umbra.*)
Still clutching the small pot, Kouta headed toward the room where Coach Saito was.
They would tell him everything.
And make him acknowledge what they believed.
"Coach, I need to talk to you."
The coach's office on the second floor of the gymnasium. Kouta placed the small
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