The next day, the gym felt different.
The first-years were stretching and chatting nervously. Arata entered with the volleyball under his arm. Already, whispers followed him. That kid is insane. Did you see that spike.
He ignored them. His focus was on the court, on movement, on the rhythm he had built alone for months.
During practice, he noticed the other players watching him closely. Some with curiosity. Some with thinly veiled jealousy. He did not care. He only cared about getting better.
The coach divided the team for drills. He was paired with an upperclassman who had been a standout in last season. The match began.
His first serve went perfectly. The upperclassman smirked and returned it with a fast, sharp spike. Arata read it instinctively, moved without thinking, and blocked it clean. The gym fell silent for a moment.
Again, the upperclassman attacked. Again, Arata read it, adjusted midair, and sent the ball flying back. His movements were unpredictable, a hybrid of everything he had learned alone.
By the end of the drill, even the upperclassman looked stunned. "You… you're different," he said.
The coach smiled, arms crossed. "This kid is going to change the team. I can feel it."
During scrimmage, Arata pushed himself harder. He spiked, blocked, and set when needed. He coordinated silently with his teammates. By the end of the day, even those who had doubted him respected him.
After practice, two of the first-years approached him. "You're incredible," one said. "Do you… do you play like this all the time."
Arata shook his head. "I have been training alone. I am just trying to catch up."
The words were humble, but inside he felt a burning determination. He had seen the final chapter of high school volleyball in his last life. He had seen where legends ended. He would not just reach that level. He would surpass it.
That night, he lay on his futon, muscles sore, hands calloused. He thought about the players he had faced today. He thought about the upperclassmen who might challenge him next.
Rivalries were forming. Challenges were coming. And he welcomed every one of them.
Because every obstacle was another step toward his goal.
Every match was another chance to become stronger.
Every moment on the court was another step on his journey to become the Ace of Japan.
And he would not stop until he reached the very top.