I still remember that hand reaching out to me. Asking if I wanted to try volleyball. The sport my brother pushed me toward soon became my life, my everything.

...

Unfortunately,

I loved volleyball. I was happy running across the court, and the cheers directed at me were more joyful than anything else. Just a little more, just a bit more...

Perhaps that greed was the starting point of my misfortune. I was offered a pro contract at a young age and joined a team. No matter how great my skills were, I was only a middle schooler, so it was natural to be relegated to the bench. But if I can't run on the court, is it even volleyball?

Then one day, I was subbed in during a match to change the atmosphere. I gave it my all, trying to be higher, faster, and more accurate.

That was the day I broke my fingers. While blocking, I was hit hard by a spike, breaking the ring and pinky fingers of my right hand. The opposing player was famous for being much larger and more powerful than me, and I was still a growing middle schooler. It was only natural for my bones to be weak, and my fingers shattered easily.

Well, anyway. That's all in the past. I fell into a slump, but I stood up again thanks to my brother. On the day of my comeback, I got into the car to head back to that place again.

Ah. Ahh. That day, I lost my everything. It was as if the world was tearing us apart, saying I didn't belong in volleyball. No, if it had ended there... it would have been a mercy.

It took my whole world away.

Everyone died except for me. My brother, my dad, even my mom. In an instant, I was left all alone.

I headed to Japan where my uncle lives. There was no point in staying here alone. I started attending Nekoma High in Tokyo, and a year has already passed.