The roar of applause and the shouts of exhilaration still echoed in Kazuki's ears even after he arrived in the locker room. The Ikaruga team, though ultimately losing two sets to one, was no longer shrouded in their usual aura of defeat. There was a new sparkle in their eyes, a spirit never seen before. Kazuki, the 'Number 0', had ignited a spark of hope.
Hikaru, with a wide smile he rarely showed, slapped Kazuki's back until he coughed. "Kazuki, that was insane! That zero-spin serve... how did you do it? I've never seen anything like it!"
Kaito, usually the most cynical, stood by his locker, occasionally glancing at Kazuki. "I was... surprised too," he mumbled, his tone odd, as if still trying to process what had just happened. "And that last block of yours... it was impossible."
Other players, even the seniors who had always ignored him, now approached with curious gazes and a hint of awkward respect. "Good job, Kazuki," said one of the third-year wing spikers, nodding briefly. These words felt like an oasis in the desert of neglect he had endured for so long. Validation. Recognition. It was an intoxicating sensation.
Yet, amidst this wave of acceptance, Kazuki sensed a cold undercurrent. Some of the senior players, especially those whose positions might be threatened by his sudden emergence, eyed him with a mix of suspicion and resentment. He was an anomaly, an unpredictable variable that had abruptly disrupted their established hierarchy. He could feel their unspoken questions: Who is this kid? Where did this come from? Is he a threat? It was a new kind of isolation, a distance born not of dismissal, but of uncertainty. This new attention, while validating, brought its own form of pressure, a subtle weight he hadn't anticipated. He was no longer just the invisible 'Number 0'; he was now a figure of intense scrutiny, a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit into the team's familiar picture.
As he was putting away his bag in the bustling locker room, a shadow fell over him. Kazuki looked up. Renji, the captain of Nishikawa High, stood before him. Renji was tall, with an intense gaze that seemed to miss nothing. His expression was serious, devoid of the usual post-match pleasantries. The air around them seemed to thicken, isolating their conversation from the boisterous chatter of the other players.
"Kazuki Shōra," Renji said, his voice low, almost a murmur, so that only Kazuki could hear. It was a conspiratorial whisper, a secret shared between two people in a crowded room. "That was... unexpected. Your serve. And your eyes." He paused, his gaze boring into Kazuki's, a knowing glint in their depths. "We will meet again in the main tournament, Ikaruga. And when we do, your system... it won't be enough."
Kazuki froze, his hand still on his bag. My system? The words hit him like a physical blow. How could Renji possibly know? The VolleyGod System was his secret, a reality only he could perceive. Had he given something away? A subtle flicker in his eyes, a unique movement, a tell-tale sign that only another "user" would recognize? He felt a sudden, chilling vulnerability, as if an invisible shield he had relied upon had just shattered. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat of fear.
"What... what do you mean, 'my system'?" Kazuki managed to ask, his voice barely a whisper, a desperate attempt to maintain composure. He tried to keep his face impassive, but a surge of primal fear tightened his stomach. His mind raced, frantically searching for an explanation, for a way to deny, to deflect, but no words came. Renji's knowing smirk was his only answer.
Renji's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile, devoid of humor. It was a smile that spoke of shared burdens, of a secret society, of a dangerous game. "You'll find out soon enough. Just know you're not alone. Not anymore." He then turned and walked away, melting into the crowd of his teammates, leaving Kazuki reeling. The fleeting encounter left an indelible mark, a seed of dread planted deep within him.
Not alone? The words echoed in Kazuki's mind, triggering a frantic internal search. Just then, the blue screen of the VolleyGod System, which had been silent since the match ended, flickered violently. It pulsed with an alarming intensity, its usual calm interface replaced by jagged, unstable lines. A stream of foreign characters, unlike any Japanese or English script he had ever seen, flashed across the display, followed by a stark, red warning. It was a language of chaos, a visual representation of interference.
[INTERFERENCE DETECTED][SCANNING PROCESS HALTED]
The screen went dark for a split second, then flickered back to life, its surface now rippling as if disturbed by an unseen force. It was like a reflection on troubled water, distorting the familiar digital script. A new message appeared, the text still in the system's usual script, but this time, accompanied by a distinct, synthesized voice – deep, resonant, and utterly devoid of human emotion. The voice was cold, disembodied, carrying a weight of authority that transcended mere words.
"You are not the only user."
The voice, calm and detached, delivered a revelation that shattered Kazuki's perception of his unique situation. Not the only user. The fragile bubble of his secret world popped. He wasn't special. He wasn't the sole recipient of this extraordinary power. There were others. And at least one of them, Renji, knew about it, and seemed to be connected to the system in a way that caused direct interference. He felt a profound sense of shock, quickly followed by a cold dread that spread through his limbs. If Renji knew, who else did? And what did they want? Were they allies, rivals, or something far more sinister? The implications were staggering, rewriting his entire understanding of his struggle and his newfound abilities.
Kazuki slowly walked out of the bustling gymnasium, the noise of the departing teams fading behind him. He needed air, space to think, to process this seismic shift in his reality. He climbed the stairs to the school rooftop, a place he rarely visited, drawn by the need for solitude and a panoramic view of the world that suddenly felt much larger and more complicated. The cool evening breeze whipped around him, a welcome contrast to the burning confusion in his mind.
The sun was setting, painting the Ikaruga sky in hues of fiery orange, soft rose, and deep purple. Below, the town lights began to twinkle, a familiar sight that now seemed imbued with a new, mysterious depth. Each flickering light in the distance felt like a secret, a hidden truth waiting to be unearthed.
Not just a benchwarmer anymore. The thought, once a triumphant declaration, now carried a heavy weight of uncertainty. He had achieved his dream of playing, of proving his worth. But it had come with a steep price: a system that controlled him, a dangerous past he had unearthed, and now, the chilling realization that he was part of something much larger, a game with other, unknown players, moving on a stage he hadn't even conceived of.
He stared at his outstretched hand, and the blue screen, now stable but softly glowing, materialized in his palm. It displayed one final, cryptic message, its stark words a promise and a warning for the path ahead. The glowing text pulsed rhythmically, a silent heartbeat of destiny.
[Main System Connected]"National Tournament Mode - Locked until Level 10"
The screen faded, leaving only the image burned into his mind. National Tournament Mode. A level beyond regional competitions, a stage where he would presumably confront other users, other 'products' of the VolleyGod System. He was no longer just fighting for a spot on a high school team; he was being groomed for something far grander, far more dangerous. The simple goal of becoming a main player now seemed like a mere stepping stone on a path fraught with unknown perils.
Who created this system? Was it truly a rogue AI from the "Reiwa Cyber Initiative," acting on its own accord, or was someone still pulling the strings, orchestrating this grand experiment from the shadows? How many other users were there, scattered across Japan, perhaps even the world? Were they allies or rivals, unwitting pawns or conscious participants in this technological drama? Was Renji one of them, a fellow subject or a competitor? And what would truly happen when he reached Level 10, when the "National Tournament Mode" unlocked? Would it be a virtual arena, a real-world tournament, or something entirely different, a crucible designed to push him and others to their breaking point?
The answers were shrouded in mystery, waiting to be uncovered, like hidden treasures guarded by formidable challenges. Kazuki Shōra, "The Last Benchwarmer," had indeed changed his status. But this was only the beginning. His journey had just truly begun. And the challenges ahead, he knew, would be far more daunting than anything he had faced on the court so far. He tightened his grip on the railing, watching the last sliver of sun dip below the horizon, bathing the world in a fading, dramatic light. The game, a game far larger than volleyball, was on.