I followed them into the gym, and almost immediately, all eyes turned toward us. Some of the players paused their drills, their expressions shifting from mild curiosity to amusement. The ongoing 2v2 match came to a halt as well, all players looking over with interest.
Renji clapped his hands together. "Alright, listen up. I brought us another player so we can finally run 6v6 again."
There was a moment of silence before a voice cut through the air. "Stop joking around, Renji."
One of the players from the 2v2 stepped forward, looking unimpressed. He was of average height, with dark, messy medium-length hair and a serious expression. He was probably in his early 20s, like the others here. His sharp eyes flicked to me before settling back on Renji. "Kenta, tell him to quit messing around."
Kenta, standing beside me, just shrugged. "Come on, Yuuma, give him a chance."
Yuuma crossed his arms, clearly annoyed. "We're not running a daycare here."
Kenta sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, we've lost a lot of players recently. Work, kids, life—you know how it is. We haven't played a full 6v6 in a while. Let's just try one game."
Yuuma exhaled sharply, his lips pressing into a thin line. He scanned me again, as if assessing whether this was even worth his time. Finally, he muttered, "Whatever. Just don't get in the way, kid."
A few of the others chuckled, clearly entertained by the exchange.
"Alright then," Renji said, clapping his hands together. "Let's split into teams."
I was placed on the same team as Renji and Kenta. The moment that was decided, someone from Yuuma's side scoffed. "Figures. You two brought him in, so he's your responsibility."
Neither of them seemed to have a problem with that. Yuuma, on the other hand, shot me another sharp glance before looking away, clearly disinterested. I could already tell—if I wanted to stay, I had to prove I belonged.
We were handed green training bibs to distinguish our team, though mine was way too big, making me look like I was wearing a baggy vest. Renji grinned. "Nice dress you got there, kid."
A few chuckles from the team. I ignored it, rolling up the extra fabric at my waist. My focus wasn't on how I looked—it was on making sure I didn't get kicked out after one game.
A coin was flipped. We got the first serve.
Kenta stepped up, tossing the ball into the air. A smooth, controlled jump floater. The ball cut cleanly through the air, but the other team was ready. One of their players positioned himself well, catching it with a solid receive, setting up the first attack.
Kenta clicked his tongue. "They've gotten used to this…" he muttered under his breath, arms crossed. "Guess it's time to turn things up a notch."
Renji smirked. "Brace yourself, kid. Here it comes."
I already knew this wasn't going to be like my middle school matches. The force, the speed—it was going to be different.
The setter moved, sending the ball to the left. Yuuma.
I reacted immediately. His approach, his angle—I could see where he was aiming. A small gap on the straight.
The spike came like a gunshot.
I barely had time to adjust, bracing for impact, but the power behind it was more than I anticipated. The ball slammed into my arms, ricocheting out of bounds before I could control it. My forearms stung from the impact.
I winced slightly, suppressing the frustration bubbling inside. "Sorry."
Renji clapped me on the back. "Nice try, kid. You'll get the next one."
Kenta, however, just stared at me—expression unreadable.
The other team rotated. Yuuma moved into position, looking entirely uninterested in anything outside of the game.
Their serve came next. A sharp, targeted hit.
Straight at me.
I could see it for what it was—they thought I was the weak link.
This time, I was ready. I adjusted my stance, braced myself, and absorbed the impact properly, getting the ball up cleanly.
"Not bad," someone muttered.
The setter moved into place, preparing for the attack. I quickly scanned the court—two of my teammates went for the run-up, Renji included.
The set went up—and three blockers followed Renji.
I shifted slightly, expecting a hard swing, but instead—Renji tipped it.
A soft spike, aimed deliberately at the blockers' fingertips, forcing a rebound.
The ball was sent back toward our setter.
Instinct took over. I saw the opening and moved before I even thought about it.
The set came—to me.
I jumped, aiming for the straight.
A clear line, no one in my way—
Except suddenly, Yuuma was there.
I barely had time to process it before my spike was shut down—a clean block, sending the ball straight to the floor.
The echo of it rang in my ears.
Yuuma landed first, looking down at me with that same unimpressed stare.
"Time to go home, kid."
I didn't reply.
I was frustrated, but I didn't let it show. Instead, I met Yuuma's gaze and smiled. "I'm just warming up."
Yuuma's expression didn't change, but I could feel the scrutiny behind his eyes. I turned away, the smile fading the moment he was out of view. My body still ached from my earlier training, my muscles heavier than I wanted them to be. I exhaled sharply.
Think, Keiji… think.
I needed to prove myself. Fast.
I paced my breathing and forced myself to focus. Analyze the players. Their positioning, their habits, the way they moved. Input every bit of information.
A few scoffs from the opposing team reached my ears. I caught glimpses of doubt on some of my own teammates' faces. Maybe they thought I was dead weight. Maybe they were waiting for me to fail again.
Renji nudged my shoulder. "Shake it off, kid. Game's not over."
Kenta, still unreadable, finally spoke. "You get one blocked spike and lose your confidence?"
I straightened. "Not a chance."
"Good. Then get in position."
I clenched my fists, inhaling deeply. No more hesitating. No more second-guessing.