The atmosphere in the gym was electric as the match continued. Shigeo stepped up to serve, his expression calm but his eyes sharp. He tossed the ball into the air with precision, his movements deliberate. With a calculated swing, he struck the ball, sending it speeding toward Daiki. Shigeo had chosen his target well, knowing that Daiki's receiving was the weakest link on our team.
Daiki managed to connect, but the ball ricocheted off his arms awkwardly, flying too close to the net. I could feel the court slowing in my mind, every movement around me becoming clearer. I saw the angle of the ball, the way it spun through the air, and I knew exactly where it would land and at what speed. My body moved instinctively, positioning itself perfectly to intercept the wayward ball.
The ball's trajectory brought it into an awkward spot near the net, but I was ready. I planted my feet, raised my arms, and prepared to set the ball cleanly to Minato. Across the net, Shigeo's gaze locked onto me, and I could see his intent in his body language. He read the play just as I had and was already moving up for a two-man block with Riku. Poor Minato looked nervous under the weight of their presence.
I fixed my eyes on Minato, feigning a pass in his direction. My body moved fluidly, selling the bait. I knew Shigeo would pay close attention to me and would react to the bait. At the last second, instead of setting to Minato, I mimicked Shigeo's earlier move, dumping the ball directly over the net and catching them off guard. The ball landed cleanly on their side of the court.
"12-11, Team Keiji," I announced, a smirk tugging at my lips.
Shigeo stood frozen for a moment, his expression flickering between stunned and annoyed. Then, with a scoff, he taunted, "Try being original, you copycat."
I shrugged, the smirk widening. "Just paying you back in full," I replied, knowing the response would only irritate him further. His frown deepened, and for a moment, I saw the competitive fire blazing in his eyes.
As I returned to my position, my mind replayed the sequence. Everything had been so clear. I had seen the movements of every player—Riku and Shigeo moving for the block, Hinata standing too far back to counter a close dump. Even the speed and trajectory of the ball seemed predictable. It wasn't just instinct; it felt like something more.
The gears in my head were spinning abnormally fast, processing everything around me with an almost unnatural clarity. This sensation was new, exhilarating. Back in the football club, I'd experienced something similar on rare occasions, but it had always been fleeting and instinctual. Here, it was as if the rhythm of my teammates and opponents was laid bare before me, making it easy to decide which 'note' to play next.
The realization hit me like a wave. Volleyball, with fewer players and a condensed field, made it easier to analyze everything at once. Unlike football, where chaos reigned across a sprawling pitch, this felt controlled, almost like a symphony.
"Is this what Isagi called meta vision?" I wondered, my thoughts racing. No, it wasn't quite that. It was simpler but based on the same concept: inputting all possible data and predicting the flow of the game. Something unthinkable for me in my last life, yet here, it felt almost natural. My chest swelled with pride, and I muttered under my breath, "I am fucking awesome."
"Earth to Keiji," Shigeo's voice snapped me out of my reverie. "We still have a match to finish, you..." he trailed off, clearly holding back an insult.
I shook off my thoughts, focusing back on the court. The score was 12-11, and it was my turn to serve. As I stepped up, I felt the weight of the moment. This could be it—the final point. Over the past few sessions, while everyone else had been learning the basics, I'd been training extra on my own, determined to keep up with monsters like Kageyama and Hinata. Now, I decided to put that training to the test.
Taking a deep breath, I tossed the ball high into the air. My body moved on instinct, the mechanics of the spike serve drilled into me over countless hours of practice. My hand connected with the ball in a satisfying thud, sending it hurtling over the net with power and precision. The ball streaked toward the gap between Hinata and Riku, the two weakest receivers on their team.
The ball veered slightly toward Hinata, who reacted instinctively. He managed to get his arms under it, but the power of the serve overwhelmed him. The ball ricocheted off awkwardly, bouncing out of reach.
"13-11, Team Keiji," I announced, the match officially over.
A loud, frustrated scream echoed through the gym. "Damn it!" Shigeo's voice boomed, startling everyone. Hinata flinched, his expression one of shock and guilt. Realizing his outburst, Shigeo quickly composed himself, walking over to Hinata.
"Hey," he said softly, placing a hand on Hinata's shoulder. "Sorry about that. I shouldn't have yelled. You did your best."
Hinata nodded hesitantly, his expression brightening slightly. "I'll do better next time! I promise!"
I walked over, joining them with a grin. "Shigeo just hates losing, that's all. Don't take it personally, Hinata."
Shigeo shot me a glare but didn't deny it. Instead, he crossed his arms and muttered, "Yeah, well, maybe next time we'll crush you."
I laughed, clapping him on the back. "We'll see. Bring your A-game, genius."
As we began to pack up, I couldn't help but reflect on Shigeo's performance. For someone who always acted like he didn't care, his ego was starting to show. It wasn't loud or boastful, but it was there—in the way he hated losing, in how he pushed himself harder when the stakes were high. I could see it in his eyes during the match: a flicker of pride, a refusal to back down, and an unspoken challenge to me. It was like watching a fire spark for the first time, small but promising. I smirked to myself. Shigeo's ego is starting to shine... and I can't wait to see what it grows into.