The sun filtered through the window of the classroom, casting a warm glow on the rows of wooden desks. The muffled sound of the teacher's voice blended with the faint hum of cicadas outside, a familiar symphony of a mid-summer school day. For the hundredth time that week, I found myself staring blankly at the chalkboard, not registering a single word. My mind, however, was anything but blank. It was racing—a labyrinth of thoughts, questions, and hypotheses about the strange new reality I'd been thrust into.
Two years. It had been two whole years since I woke up in this world. At first, I'd thought it was a vivid dream. I'd gone to sleep in my small apartment and woken up in a cramped bedroom that wasn't mine. Everything around me felt both familiar and alien. The language was the same, the culture unchanged, but there were tiny, inexplicable differences. Over time, I adjusted—figured out the routine of my new life, new school, and new peers. Yet, one question had lingered in the back of my mind: Why was I here?
As a self-proclaimed anime fanatic and gym rat, I'd naturally considered the possibility that this was an isekai situation. Maybe I'd been sent here for a grand purpose, a chance to do something meaningful or extraordinary. Was I supposed to be the protagonist of this world?
The idea felt plausible at first. After all, I'd retained all my knowledge and skills from my previous life. My years of working out and studying fitness translated seamlessly into this new existence. I'd even joined the school's football team, inspired by my favorite sports anime, Blue Lock. It was exhilarating—strategizing plays, breaking through defenses, and scoring goals. It was easy to imagine that this was my story.
But then there was him.
Iwamoto Shigeo, my childhood best friend, if I could even call him that in this life. A genius in every sense of the word, defying logic and reason with his sheer talent. While I'd spent hours in the gym refining my body and skills, he breezed through every sport like it was second nature. He'd always been a lazy gamer, spending hours glued to his console or grinding on some RPG. But when it came to physical activity, he transformed into a force of nature. Every PE class ended the same way: with him dominating, leaving everyone else in his shadow. His only weakness, if you could call it that, was his lack of stamina. It was the one chink in his otherwise impenetrable armor, but even that rarely stopped him from outclassing everyone.
I'd tried dragging him into football with me, hoping to find some common ground. At first, he'd shrugged it off with a smirk, dismissing the idea outright. He didn't join the football club, but he often showed up to watch my training sessions and school matches, sitting quietly on the sidelines with an almost detached interest. Yet, his observations weren't casual—he always had insights, pointing out flaws in our tactics or praising clever plays. Despite never setting foot on the field, his understanding of the game was uncanny, like he could see moves unfolding before they happened. I thought: Maybe he's the real protagonist.
Now, sitting at my desk, I found myself spiraling into this train of thought once again. My gaze drifted to the clock—five minutes until lunch break. My stomach growled, but my mind was too preoccupied to care. If Shigeo was the protagonist, what did that make me? The sidekick? The rival? A background character?
The bell rang, jolting me out of my thoughts. The classroom erupted into a chaotic buzz as chairs scraped against the floor and students grabbed their lunches. I followed the crowd, with Shigeo walking beside me, his convenience store sandwich and gaming magazine in hand. My feet carried us to the school courtyard, where we found a shady spot under a tree. Plopping down together, I opened my lunchbox to rice, tamagoyaki, and a couple of pickled plums staring back at me. Shigeo unwrapped his sandwich and started flipping through his magazine, occasionally glancing at me. I took a bite, chewing slowly, my thoughts still racing.
"If he's the protagonist," I muttered under my breath, "what am I even doing here?"
"Talking to yourself again, huh?"
I looked up to see Shigeo standing over me, a smug grin plastered on his face. He held a convenience store sandwich in one hand and a gaming magazine in the other.
"Let me guess," he continued, plopping down beside me, "you're overthinking things again. What's it this time? The meaning of life? Your place in the universe?"
I rolled my eyes. "Something like that."
He snorted. "You're such a weirdo."
I wanted to retort, but my thoughts were interrupted by a distant sound—the sharp smack of a volleyball hitting a wall. Shigeo seemed to notice it too, his ears perking up.
"What's that?" he asked, craning his neck to look around.
I stood up, curiosity piqued. "Let's check it out."
We followed the sound around the corner of the school building, where we stumbled upon a peculiar sight. A short, scrappy-looking boy with bright orange hair was repeatedly tossing a volleyball into the air and spiking it against the wall. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and his movements were erratic but fueled by an undeniable energy. He'd miss half the time, but when he connected, the ball hit the wall with an impressive thud.
Shigeo raised an eyebrow. "What's his deal?"
I didn't answer. Something about the boy felt... familiar. Not in a literal sense, but in the way his determination radiated, filling the air around him. He wasn't skilled—not yet—but there was something raw and unyielding in his spirit. My heart started racing as realization dawned on me.
This was Hinata Shouyou.
This was the protagonist.
I stood there frozen, watching him with wide eyes. All the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. The world I'd been sent to, the people I'd met, the events unfolding around me—they weren't about me. They were about him. He was the sun, the force that would draw everyone into his orbit. The excitement coursing through me was undeniable. It felt like a revelation, an electric spark igniting within.
As the boy turned to retrieve the ball, he noticed us standing there. He froze for a moment, then gave a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his head. "Ah, sorry! Am I in your way?"
I shook my head, finally finding my voice. "No. Not at all."
Shigeo glanced at me, confused. "Do you know him?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the boy who, despite his small stature, seemed larger than life. In that moment, everything became clear. I muttered under my breath, "I understand it now." My purpose wasn't to be the star of this world, nor was it simply to help him shine. There was something more—a deeper realization I couldn't yet put into words.
In that moment, everything became clear to me. I had found the true protagonist.