VolleyGod System: The Last Benchwarmer

The air in the Ikaruga Daini High gymnasium finally felt right again. Not just the usual dust and the familiar tang of sweat, but a vibrant hum, an almost palpable energy that had been missing for months. Kazuki was back on the court, really back. His ankle, though still bearing the ghost of its injury, felt remarkably robust, a testament to Ms. Tanaka's diligent therapy and, more importantly, the system's quiet, underlying work. The blue glow in his mind, though only at 15% stability, was a constant, reassuring presence, a subtle hum beneath the surface of his thoughts. It was like having a secret, powerful engine tucked away, purring softly.

He still couldn't do a full jump serve without a slight wince, and Coach Tanaka kept a hawk-like eye on his landings during spiking drills. "Easy there, Kazuki!" the coach would bellow, a mix of concern and burgeoning excitement in his voice. "We don't need you breaking yourself again before the big show!" But the "big show" – the upcoming National Tournament – felt within reach.

Practice now had a sharper edge, a renewed purpose. With Kazuki back, the team, which had slumped through the autumn season, found its rhythm again. His receives were once more impossibly precise, his dives like flashes of light across the court. Even without his full jumping power, his spikes, driven by his re-activated Tactical Read Lv.2 and newfound Integrated Regeneration, found holes in blocks that shouldn't have existed. He was a strategic ghost, appearing where he wasn't expected, hitting where they least protected.

Hikaru, a perpetually optimistic force of nature, was practically vibrating with excitement. "Kazuki! Man, it's like you never left! We're gonna crush it at Nationals, I can feel it!" He'd grin, throwing a casual arm around Kazuki's shoulders. The camaraderie felt good, genuine.

Kaito, however, was a different story. His eyes, sharp and analytical, followed Kazuki's every move during practice. He was silent mostly, but his sets were becoming exquisitely tailored to Kazuki's evolving style—faster, higher, or deceptively softer, anticipating Kazuki's feints and shifts. One afternoon, during a high-intensity drill, Kazuki executed a particularly complex evasive maneuver, twisting his body mid-air to spike through a narrow gap. As he landed, a subtle blue shimmer, almost imperceptible, flickered around his hand. He saw Kaito, across the net, momentarily freeze, his eyes widening just a fraction. He blinked, and the shimmer was gone. Kaito quickly turned away, but Kazuki knew. He'd seen something. The air between them, already thick with unspoken understanding, suddenly gained a new layer of tension. Did he know? Or just suspect? The thought made a prickle of unease trace its way up Kazuki's spine. The secret was getting harder to keep.

His phone buzzed one evening, a message from Renji. "Heard you're back on court. Good. Stability at 15% is risky for Level 10. Hunters will smell you. Be extra vigilant outside the gym. They won't always challenge you on court."

Outside the gym. The words made a cold knot form in Kazuki's stomach. He'd been so focused on regaining his physical prowess, on the catalyst, he'd almost forgotten the other danger. The unseen threat. The hunters.

The next day, walking home from practice, a subtle shift in the urban hum caught his attention. A slight distortion in his peripheral vision, almost like static. It wasn't the system's usual blue glow, but something akin to a dark, distorted ripple in the air itself. His 'User Scan' app, which he kept running discreetly, flared. Signal detected. High intensity. Close proximity. Aggressive signature.

Kazuki's heart hammered. He wasn't alone. He quickened his pace, turning a corner into a less crowded side street. He heard footsteps behind him, too steady, too fast. He pushed his system, willing it to amplify his senses. The city sounds muted, his focus sharpening. He could hear the distinct scrape of sneakers on asphalt, the slight rustle of fabric, the measured breathing. They were close.

He ducked into a narrow alleyway, hoping to lose them. But as he emerged on the other side, a figure stepped out from behind a vending machine, blocking his path. Tall, powerfully built, wearing a dark hoodie pulled low, shadowing their face. Their hands were shoved deep into their pockets, but there was an unnatural stillness to their posture, a coiled tension.

"Kazuki Shōra, isn't it?" A low, gravelly voice. Not a student. Older. "The 'Last Benchwarmer' who somehow found his way back from the grave."

Kazuki tensed, his hands clenching into fists. His system stability was only 15%. He was vulnerable. "Who are you?"

The figure chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Just a… collector. Heard you'd re-emerged. Level 10. A valuable fragment." The hoodie-clad figure took a step closer, and Kazuki felt an oppressive aura radiating from them, a cold, predatory presence that made his skin crawl. This wasn't just a user; this was someone who had fully embraced the darker side of the system, someone who actively hunted. His 'User Scan' was screaming: HIGH-LEVEL THREAT. FRAGMENT ACQUISITION SPECIALIST.

"I'm not a fragment," Kazuki stated, his voice trembling slightly, but firm.

"Oh, but you are," the hunter countered, taking another slow step forward. "We all are. Just pieces in the grand design. And some pieces… are more useful when added to another's collection." The figure raised a hand, slowly pulling it out of their pocket. There was a faint, almost sickly green glow around their fingers, not the vibrant blue of the VolleyGod System. "My system is… different. More efficient in retrieval. You won't feel a thing. Much less messy than Goro Kuma, I promise."

Goro. The hunter knew about Goro. This wasn't just a random encounter; this was targeted. Kazuki's mind raced. He couldn't fight. Not like this. His ankle wasn't ready for a real confrontation, and his system stability was too low.

"I'm not a target," Kazuki said, trying to buy time, searching for an escape route. His eyes darted around the alley, looking for an opening, anything.

"Oh, you are," the hunter repeated, a chilling certainty in their voice. "And soon, you'll be my fragment." The green glow around their fingers intensified, pulsing with a malevolent light.

Just as the hunter raised their glowing hand, a sudden, blinding flash of pure white light erupted from behind them, accompanied by a sharp, piercing, high-frequency hum that vibrated through the very ground. The hunter cried out, stumbling back, clutching their head.

"Leave him alone!" a voice, familiar yet deeper than he remembered, cut through the high-pitched hum.

Kazuki blinked, his eyes stinging from the white light. Standing at the mouth of the alley, silhouetted against the streetlights, was Renji. Not in his casual clothes, but wearing a sleek, dark, almost futuristic jacket, and in his outstretched hand, a device that emitted the powerful white light and hum. His eyes, too, glowed with a faint, steady blue, stronger than Kazuki's.

The hunter, still disoriented, snarled. "Renji… you interference-monger!" They turned, the green glow around their fingers flaring defiantly, but Renji was already moving, a blur of motion. He didn't physically attack, but a wave of invisible energy seemed to emanate from him, forcing the hunter back, making them stumble.

"This isn't your territory, Collector," Renji stated, his voice low, filled with a cold authority. "He's not ready. And he's not for you."

The hunter hesitated, then, with a final, frustrated growl, vanished into the shadows of the city, melting away as quickly as they had appeared. The high-pitched hum faded, and Renji lowered his hand.

Kazuki stared, breathless. "Renji… what was that?"

Renji walked over, his face grim. "A hunter. As I warned you. They track high-level fragments, especially re-emergent ones. They get a bonus for collecting them, I suppose, in the system's twisted logic. That was a 'Reaper' class user, by the look of his signature. Efficient, ruthless." He glanced at Kazuki's still-trembling ankle. "You're lucky I was in the area, following the regional signals. And that your re-emergence signature was strong enough to ping my private network."

"Your private network?"

"Later," Renji said, cutting him off. "For now, understand this: you're a beacon. Get stronger. Get stable. And for God's sake, stay alert. They won't stop coming. The National Tournament is not just a stage for volleyball. It's a hunting ground." He paused, then looked at Kazuki with a rare intensity. "We need you in one piece. We need you to reach the Tower Gate. Intact."

Kazuki nodded, still shaken. He felt a profound sense of indebtedness, and terror. Renji, too, was a hunter of sorts, but perhaps of a different kind.

The incident solidified Kazuki's resolve. He pushed his recovery even harder. His physical therapy sessions became a brutal, internal war, every movement a calculated effort to strengthen his muscles, his ligaments, his entire biological framework. The faint hum in his mind grew, steadily. The flashes of hyper-awareness became more frequent, lasting longer, until they started to blend into a constant, subtle clarity. His 'System Re-activation Stability' slowly climbed, point by agonizing point.

He also spent hours poring over Renji's encrypted chip, studying the complex network map, trying to understand the patterns of user movement, the classifications of 'hunters' and 'rogues'. He started to see the world not just as a normal high school student, but as a battlefield, populated by unseen players and governed by ruthless digital rules.

Weeks passed. The team continued its preparation for the National Tournament. Coach Tanaka, while still cautious about Kazuki's ankle, slowly began to integrate him back into full drills, then even some light jump serves. His teammates, especially Hikaru and Kaito, seemed to visibly relax with him fully participating.

Kaito, however, was still watching. One afternoon, during a particularly intense spike drill, Kazuki executed a perfect jump, his system now at 60% stability, guiding his muscles with renewed precision. He saw Kaito's eyes, fixed on his landing, and for a fleeting second, he saw a tiny, almost imperceptible blue shimmer around Kaito's own fingers as he tossed the ball. Kaito quickly pulled his hand back, but Kazuki knew. It wasn't just him and Renji. Kaito was a user too. A setter with a system. It made terrifying, logical sense. Was he an ally? Or something else? The revelation sent a fresh wave of confusion and suspicion through him. He was surrounded by secrets.

The day of the National Tournament draw arrived. The entire team gathered in the school auditorium, a buzz of nervous excitement filling the air. Coach Tanaka stood at the front, his usual stern expression softened by pride. The draw was broadcast live, a large screen displaying the bracket as teams were called.

Kazuki watched the screen, his heart pounding, his 'User Scan' app secretly active on his phone, its map a furious constellation of glowing dots as more and more user signals converged in Tokyo. He saw Nishikawa High's name appear, placed in a different bracket. Then Seiyo High, also in another section. The map on his phone showed Kai Shiratani's signal moving towards a different part of the bracket.

Then, Ikaruga Daini's name flashed on the screen. Their first opponent: Hakuryu Academy, from the heavily urbanized Kanto region. A formidable team, known for its aggressive offense.

But as Hakuryu Academy's name appeared, a single, incredibly bright, malevolent green dot on Kazuki's 'User Scan' map flared directly over Hakuryu Academy's section of the bracket. Aggressive signature. High-level Reaper class. Identity: UNKNOWN.

Kazuki's blood ran cold. The hunter from the alley. He was there. In the same bracket. Waiting. The National Tournament wasn't just a game of volleyball. It was a hunt. And the hunter had just found his prey. He clutched his phone, his knuckles white. He was ready. He had to be.