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 bug and the resolve to chase shadows
The bustle in front of Sendai Station drew closer with every step up the subway stairs. The smell of the city. Exhaust fumes, and the scent of oil drifting from some nearby shop. Waves of people slipped between the two of them. Kouta walked half a step behind Tendou, repeating deep breaths for what felt like the umpteenth time.
It was the afternoon of the third day since they'd filmed the white powder scattered across the floor of Gymnasium 1 that night. The prefectural qualifiers were now less than three weeks away.
"Tendou-senpai, are you sure this is the right place?"
Kouta's voice was so small it nearly vanished into the city noise. Tendou didn't turn around, just lifted one corner of his lips.
"You think just because I'm a weirdo, I'm the type to grab sloppy intel? Too bad. For all appearances, I'm actually pretty good at getting into people's good graces."
Tendou pointed ahead with a long finger at a multi-tenant building. A calm gray exterior. A small café on the ground floor, and on the second floor, a sign reading "Vortex Fitness." The entrance was clean, with a bright, welcoming doorway for general members.
"That's the place, Kou-chan. Seo Hayato's den. Looks like an ordinary gym on the surface. But underground... it reeks."
Tendou made a sniffing gesture.
"Reeks? Of what?"
"The stench of malice. A sports club should smell like sweat, disinfectant, and a little bit of hope mixed in. But from that place, all I get is sweat and disinfectant. Places that feed on athletes' dreams smell like mold, mildew, and old blood."
Tendou's voice was light. But behind those narrow eyes, there was no laughter.
"Let's go. First, a little reconnaissance on the enemy."
The two crossed the main street and walked past the front of the gym. Kouta held his breath, glancing sideways through the automatic doors. A bright floor lined with training machines. A young female staff member stood at the reception counter. Further back, in front of a wall-length mirror, someone was lifting dumbbells under a trainer's instruction.
Kouta squinted at the trainer's back. Dark brown hair, short. Slicked back. A straight posture, a lean, efficient stance.
"...He's not there."
Kouta murmured quietly.
"Right. Seo's outside the gym right now. Tuesday afternoons from three, he has an off-site personal training slot. Just like the intel said."
Tendou replied. Three days ago, Tendou had gotten Seo's behavioral patterns from a man he called his "information broker." Supposedly a former member of that gym. Fast work.
"Let's go around back. There's a parking lot."
They circled behind the building, through a narrow alley, and emerged into a small concrete parking area. Space for about eight cars. The wall bore white painted letters: "No Parking — Authorized Personnel Only." Two trash bins full of food waste sat lined up against the wall.
One car was parked there.
A black wagon. The body gleamed as if freshly washed, and the windows were tinted so dark you couldn't see inside. Kouta burned the license plate number into his memory.
"That's it. Seo's car. I saw it in the parking lot three weeks ago when I went for a gym membership consultation. That man got out of that car. With a face that said he didn't want to leave a single fingerprint behind."
Tendou didn't approach the car, instead watching from the shadow of the wall.
"Kou-chan, let's confirm. The objective is to attach a magnetic listening device to that car's body. Correct?"
"Yes. A compact GPS and a sound pickup mic. Solar-charged. Actually, where did you even buy this? Do they sell these at regular electronics stores?"
"That's a secret. I've got friends who know about this kind of thing, surprisingly. The volleyball team's weirdo blocker has connections even in the pitch-black world of games, you know?"
Tendou grinned mischievously and clapped Kouta on the shoulder.
Kouta reached into the bottom of his shoulder bag. His fingertips touched a hard, small piece of metal. A black box-shaped listening device, five centimeters square. Matte black surface. Neodymium magnets on the back. He'd been told it was custom-made.
"We're really doing this."
"Getting cold feet now? Don't worry — if we get caught, you'll be the only one arrested. Just kidding. I'll protect you properly, so go on."
Tendou's tone softened just slightly at the end.
"...I'm going."
Kouta steeled himself.
The white powder in Gymnasium 1. The visitor list the gym's management office had refused to show. The police wouldn't move. The adults wouldn't move. If that was the case, they had no choice but to do it themselves. Now that they'd confirmed Seo Hayato was the Tohoku center of the organization called Umbra, they would extract information from his car.
Kouta crossed the alley at a quick pace.
The back entrance of Vortex Fitness was a metal door. A single small window leaked light from inside. The parking lot was completely enveloped in the building's shadow, and the air hung stagnant, several degrees colder than outside.
The black wagon waited silently, like a massive beast. The smell of metal. The smell of tire rubber. The smell of asphalt oil clung to the back of his nose.
(I have to do this.)
Kouta slipped quietly alongside the lowered wagon. He strained his ears. His heartbeat raged just inside his eardrums. The depths of his chest pulsed hot, almost painfully.
He dropped to all fours on the asphalt. A posture like an insect creeping toward its prey. He slid one arm under the car. Grit bit into his palm. His fingertips touched the cold iron of the exhaust pipe.
(Fast. Faster.)
He re-gripped the listening device in his right hand. He pressed the magnet against the frame right next to the exhaust pipe. A small click. But the sound echoed strangely loud, and Kouta flinched.
His heart pounded in the back of his ears.
That was when it happened.
—The sound of a car door closing echoed through the parking lot.
His breath stopped. His lungs froze.
Footsteps. Hard footsteps in leather shoes. Slowly approaching across the asphalt. Not a thud, thud. A faint, oddly drawn-out jangle mixed in. As if dragging the left foot just slightly.
Kouta opened his ears to full. His skin went cold.
The footsteps stopped on the other side of the wagon from where Kouta lay — behind his back. Directly above. Less than a meter away.
(It's Seo.)
A voice spoke.
"...Yes, it's me. I'm outside now. Give me your report in five minutes. Be concise."
A low, smooth voice. The voice through the phone had no emotional fluctuation whatsoever. Like a well-polished knife. Cold sweat slid down Kouta's spine as if ice water had been poured into him.
"I'll get the Shiratorizawa information later, all at once. The team atmosphere after Ushijima's departure. Ohira's awakening progress. ...Yes, that acting manager boy — leave him alone. But save all the surveillance camera footage. So we can cut him loose immediately if anything happens."
Kouta's fingertips trembled, clattering.
(He knows about me.)
(He's known from the start.)
Seo's voice continued.
"The prefectural qualifier draw is this weekend, isn't it. Referee Yamagishi and that young assistant referee — they can be handled. The payment can be double the previous amount. We'll profit regardless. Also, make a list of the Shiratorizawa players' families. Start with the households that have leverage material. ...You're smiling now, aren't you? This is work. Don't let personal feelings into my revenge."
The final syllable hung cold and taut.
Kouta clenched his teeth. The pit of his stomach went cold. A sensation close to nausea rose up.
(This bastard is trying to get to the players' families.)
His fist tightened. His fingertips went white.
At that moment, a voice bellowed from the direction of the parking lot, as if wrenched from the depths of someone's gut.
"—Huh!? Hey, you there! Wait a minute! This is the police! No, wait, no — I'm calling the police! Hey, you, something just fell under your car! That's dangerous!"
It was Tendou's voice. Tendou was waving exaggeratedly at Seo from the wall at the parking lot entrance.
"Huh? What? You're the owner of this car? No, I was about to report you as a suspicious person. Because you were peering under the car in that position. Thought you might be hiding something. I was just about to call the police box, actually."
Tendou made an exaggerated gesture of putting his phone to his ear. Kouta couldn't see Seo's face. But he could feel the air change. Seo had turned toward Tendou.
"...Who are you?"
Seo's voice sharpened.
"Oh, me? Just a passing citizen overflowing with a sense of justice. Actually, more importantly — something just flashed under your car. Like a light. Why? Are you hiding a camera or something?"
Tendou deliberately pointed at the area around the car's rear tire. Seo's gaze flicked toward the underside of the car for an instant.
—Now.
Kouta scraped his cheek against the asphalt and crawled out from under the car without a sound. Sweat plastered his bangs to his forehead, blurring his vision. His heartbeat was so heavy it felt like it was shaking his internal organs.
Using the car as cover, Kouta rolled into the shadow of a trash bin in the corner of the parking lot. He killed his breathing.
"Should I call the police? I'll call them. I'll call them right now. Is the police box even open at this hour?"
Tendou took a step toward Seo.
"...If this is a prank, stop it. If you want to report me, go ahead. Nothing will turn up."
Seo's voice was cold, but with a faint trace of impatience, pushing Tendou away. Seo began walking slowly around the car. Dragging his left foot just slightly.
(Don't get found. Absolutely don't get found.)
Kouta curled up small behind the trash bin.
"Is that so. Well then, I'll be on my way. Oh, but — around the rear tire of that car, I feel like there's something like a black box attached. Maybe I'm imagining it. These days, with wiretapping and all, it's dangerous, right?"
Tendou said it with a smile.
Seo's footsteps stopped.
Kouta's heart lurched.
Tendou's eyes met his. Behind those narrow eyes, a serious light flickered for an instant.
(Run.)
Tendou's lips moved.
Kouta ran.
He was desperate.
He turned down the alley, cut through the bicycle parking area, and dove into the crowd on the main street. His shoulder bumped into people. No time to apologize. Toward the station, toward the station. His heart felt like it was about to leap out of his throat.
Several minutes later, Kouta finally stopped in the shadow of the planters at Sendai Station's west exit. He was out of breath, his lungs burning. Sweat stung his eyes.
He opened his phone. His hands were shaking so much he fumbled with the lock screen.
One message.
"Parking lot, Nishikicho Park to the northwest, bench. Come in five minutes. Even I had to hide behind the stairs laughing."
Kouta laughed weakly.
(It worked.)
(It's not over yet, though.)
Kouta broke into a run again, heading for Nishikicho Park.
The evening city was dyed orange.
Night at Shiratorizawa Academy was wrapped in the green of the mountains and filled with the sound of insects. The lights in Gymnasium 1 were off, and only the connecting corridor cast a faint glow.
From the small window of the analysis room, the wall of the adjacent training room was visible. Kouta closed the curtains and lined up his laptop and the listening device's receiver on the desk.
"Sensitivity is good. A little noise, but it'll hold up for practical use. Still, Kou-chan, your hands are still shaking. You okay?"
Tendou sat in the chair next to him and placed two cans of coffee on the desk.
"Not okay. My hands are sweating like crazy. And my heart's still pounding."
Kouta looked at his right hand. His fingertips were still trembling faintly.
"That was bad for the heart. I haven't had my heart pound like that since match point in a game. But, well, it was fun, right?"
"Fun? No, I thought I was going to die."
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