Twenty minutes later, freshly showered and wearing clean clothes that smelled like fabric softener instead of sweat and volleyball courts, Ryu sat at the dinner table trying to figure out how to be a normal family member. The system had helpfully informed him that his "Identity Displacement" status effect was still active, which explained why every family interaction felt like walking through a minefield.
"So tell us about this match," his mother said, setting down a plate of chicken teriyaki that made his mouth water. "Who were you playing against?"
"Kitagawa Daiichi," Ryu said, accepting the rice bowl his father handed him. "They were... really good."
"Kitagawa Daiichi?" His father's eyebrows shot up. "That's a powerhouse school. They are prefectural championship finalist three years running. Pretty impressive that you got to play against them."
"If by 'play against them' you mean 'get systematically destroyed while making a fool of yourself,' then yeah, super impressive," Mei piped up from across the table, where she was arranging her vegetables in order of color intensity. "Twenty-five to seven, right? That's what I heard from Tanaka-kun whose brother goes to Kitagawa Daiichi."
Ryu nearly choked on his rice. "How did you - "
"I have my sources," Mei said primly, then leaned forward with the intensity of a detective interrogating a suspect. "What I want to know is why you suddenly decided to play volleyball in the first place. You've literally never shown interest in it before. Ever."
"People can develop new interests," their mother said gently. "It's actually quite healthy to explore different activities."
"Mom, this isn't 'exploring different activities,'" Mei said with the exaggerated patience of a ten-year-old explaining something obvious to adults. "This is like if you suddenly announced you wanted to become a professional opera singer. It's completely out of character."
She turned those sharp eyes back to Ryu. "Yesterday at breakfast, you were complaining about how volleyball was 'just basketball for people who are afraid of contact sports.' Your exact words. I wrote them down."
"You wrote them down?" Ryu stared at her in horror.
"I keep a journal of stupid things family members say. It's surprisingly comprehensive." Mei's smile was sweetly terrifying. "Would you like me to read some highlights?"
"Mei," their father said with mild warning, though he looked like he was trying not to laugh.
"What? I'm just trying to understand this sudden personality shift. It's like he got hit in the head and became a different person."
The accuracy of that statement made Ryu's stomach clench. He focused intently on his teriyaki, hoping his face wasn't giving anything away.
"Maybe the volleyball to the face knocked some sense into me," he said, attempting humor.
"Or knocked something loose," Mei muttered, but she was studying him with those too-intelligent eyes. "Speaking of which, how exactly did you get hit in the face? Were you trying to spike? Block? Receive?"
"I was..." Ryu paused, realizing he couldn't explain the catastrophic failure without admitting he'd never played volleyball before. "I mistimed a spike attempt."
"You attempted to spike." Mei's tone was flat. "You. The person who couldn't hit a basketball into a hoop if it was lowered to your exact height and painted with a bullseye."
"Mei," their mother sighed. "Please be supportive of your brother."
"I am being supportive! I'm supporting his right to make terrible life choices! I just want to understand the motivation behind them."
Their father cleared his throat diplomatically. "So, Izumi, are you planning to keep playing? Maybe try out for the high school team when you start next year?"
This was it. The perfect opening to drop the bomb that would probably send Mei into a detective frenzy that would make Sherlock Holmes look like an amateur.
"Actually," Ryu said, cutting his chicken into precise pieces to avoid eye contact, "I've been thinking about that. About high school, I mean."
"Oh?" His mother looked interested. "Have you given more thought to which school you want to attend?"
"Yeah, I have." Ryu took a deep breath. "I want to go to Aoba Johsai."
The silence that followed was so complete that Ryu could hear the refrigerator humming in the kitchen.
"Aoba Johsai?" his father repeated slowly.
"You want to go to Seijoh?" his mother added, using the school's nickname.
But it was Mei's reaction that made Ryu's blood run cold. She had gone completely still, her fork suspended halfway to her mouth, staring at him with an expression of such shock and betrayal that he immediately knew he'd made a terrible mistake.
"Aoba Johsai," she said in a voice that could have frozen fire. "You want to go to Aoba Johsai."
"Yes?" Ryu said weakly.
"THE AOBA JOHSAI?" Mei slammed her fork down hard enough to make the plates jump. "The school whose volleyball team you called 'overhyped pretty boys with fancy uniforms'? THAT Aoba Johsai?"
Crap. The original Izumi apparently had strong opinions about Seijoh.
"People can change their minds - " Ryu started.
"You have been planning to go to Seirin High since you were TEN YEARS OLD!" Mei's voice was getting higher and more incredulous with each word. "You have Seirin posters on your wall! You've been saving money for their basketball camp! You made me promise to apply there too so we could be at the same school!"
"Mei, sweetie, calm down," their mother tried to intervene.
"No! I will not calm down!" Mei shot to her feet, her pigtails practically vibrating with indignation. "Do you know what I've been doing for the past six months? Do you want to know what your loving sister has been working on as a surprise for your birthday?"
Ryu had a sinking feeling he really didn't want to know.
"I've been learning to knit!" Mei announced dramatically. "Knitting! Do you know how hard knitting is when you're thirteen years old and have the attention span of a caffeinated squirrel? I've been making you a Seirin High sweater! Custom! With your name on it!"
The horror on Ryu's face must have been visible because his father actually winced.
"I pricked my fingers so many times they look like I've been practicing acupuncture on myself!" Mei continued, her voice reaching operatic levels of tragedy. "I watched seventeen YouTube tutorials! Seventeen! I learned what a 'purl stitch' is! I can tell the difference between worsted weight and DK yarn! I have become a tiny textile expert, all for a brother who apparently doesn't even know who he is anymore!"
"Mei," their father said gently, "maybe we should - "
"And now!" Mei wasn't finished. "NOW he wants to go to the school where that obnoxious setter plays! The one who's probably going to end up at some fancy university on a volleyball scholarship while my brother sits in the stands wearing the wrong school colors and wondering why he gave up his basketball dreams for a sport he's clearly terrible at!"
She paused for breath, her face flushed and her eyes bright with what might have been tears or fury or both.
"That's enough," their mother said firmly. "Mei, sit down. We're going to discuss this like a civilized family."
"Civilized families don't have members who undergo complete personality transplants overnight!" Mei shot back, but she sat down, crossing her arms and glaring at Ryu like he'd personally murdered her pet goldfish.
The silence stretched until their father cleared his throat diplomatically.
"Son," he said carefully, "this is... quite a change from what you've been planning. Are you sure about this? Aoba Johsai is a excellent school, but it's also very different from Seirin. The academic focus, the culture, the athletics program - "
"I know it's different," Ryu said, scrambling to find a reasonable explanation that wouldn't involve explaining transmigration, systems, or his desperate need to avoid being in the same school as the main character of a manga. "I just... I've been thinking about it a lot. About what I really want."
What he really wanted was to develop his volleyball skills without the constant chaos that seemed to follow Hinata Shoyo around. Karasuno was going to be a hurricane of dramatic matches, last-minute victories, and the kind of intense spotlight that would make it impossible to quietly grind stats and figure out how to be a functional human being.
Aoba Johsai, on the other hand, was already established as a powerhouse. They had structure, they had experienced players, and most importantly, they had Oikawa - someone who could probably teach him more about volleyball in a month than he could learn on his own in a year.
Plus, there was the small matter of his father having played there. The man was practically glowing with suppressed excitement at the idea of his son following in his footsteps.
"I think," Ryu said slowly, "that I want to be part of something that's already great, instead of trying to build something from nothing. Aoba Johsai has tradition, excellent coaching, and..."
He looked at his father, who was trying very hard to appear neutral but failing spectacularly.
"And Dad played there," Ryu finished. "I'd like to understand that part of your life better."
His father's careful neutrality cracked completely. "Really? You'd want to... oh, son, that would be amazing. The coaches there are fantastic, the program is top-notch, and the team culture..." He trailed off, apparently too emotional to continue.
"This is so sweet I might develop diabetes," Mei said flatly. "But it still doesn't explain why you're abandoning three years of careful planning for a sport you discovered approximately six hours ago."
"I'm not abandoning anything," Ryu protested. "I'm just... exploring new possibilities."
"New possibilities." Mei's tone could have stripped paint. "Right. And I suppose these 'new possibilities' have nothing to do with the fact that you've been acting weird all day? Or the fact that you cried when you came home like you hadn't seen Mom and Dad in years?"
Crap. She really had been paying attention.
"I was emotional," Ryu said weakly. "It was a big day."
"Uh-huh. And the way you've been staring at family photos like you're trying to memorize them? And how you hugged Mom like she might disappear? And the fact that you're eating your vegetables without complaining even though you've hated carrots since you were five?"
Ryu looked down at his plate in horror. He was indeed eating carrots. Multiple carrots. With apparent enjoyment.
"Maybe I'm going through a growth phase," he said desperately.
"A growth phase that includes personality transplantation and sudden athletic ambitions?" Mei leaned back in her chair, her expression shifting from anger to something much more dangerous - scientific curiosity. "This is fascinating. It's like I'm observing a completely different person wearing my brother's face."
"So here's what I want to know, 'brother dear.' What happened today that made you decide to completely overhaul your entire life plan? And don't say 'nothing' because I wasn't born yesterday and I certainly wasn't born stupid."
Ryu couldn't believe he was talking to a 13 year old girl. Before he could figure out how to answer without confessing to being a different person entirely, his father intervened with diplomatic skill that probably came from years of managing family dynamics.
"How about we table this discussion for now," he said gently. "Izumi's had a big day, Mei's clearly upset about the sweater situation, and I think we all need some time to process this news."
"I'm not upset about the sweater," Mei said stiffly. "I'm upset about being lied to."
"I didn't lie to you," Ryu protested.
"You didn't tell me you were planning to completely change who you are, either." Mei stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "Enjoy your new life as a volleyball player, Izumi. I hope it works out better than your old life as my brother."
She stalked out of the dining room with great dramatic flair.
The remaining family members sat in uncomfortable silence, the only sound the quiet tick of the wall clock and the distant slam of Mei's bedroom door.
"Well," their mother said finally, "that went about as well as expected."
"She'll come around," their father said, though he looked worried. "She's just... she put a lot of effort into that sweater."
"Six months of knitting," Ryu said quietly, guilt settling in his stomach like a lead weight. "She spent six months making me something for a school I'm not even going to attend."
"You couldn't have known," his mother said gently. "And the thought is what matters."
But Ryu knew that wasn't true. The original Izumi would have known. The original Izumi would have been touched by his sister's effort, would have appreciated the sacrifice, would have at least given her some warning before completely upending the plans they'd apparently made together.
The original Izumi wouldn't have caused his ten-year-old sister to storm out of dinner in tears.
[System Notification: Social Link Status]
[Mei Yukitaka: Suspicious/Hurt - Trust Level Decreased]
[Warning: Continued suspicion may lead to discovery]
[Recommendation: Address family concerns before relationship damage becomes permanent]
Great. Even the system thought he'd screwed up.
"Maybe you should go talk to her," his father suggested gently. "Explain your reasoning, apologize for not giving her advance warning about the change in plans."
"Yeah," Ryu said, though the idea of facing Mei's detective-level interrogation skills in private made his stomach clench. "Yeah, I should probably do that."
As he stood up from the table, his mother caught his hand.
"Izumi," she said softly, "I know today was overwhelming. Big changes can be scary, and it's natural to second-guess yourself. But whatever you decide about school, about volleyball, about anything - we'll support you. That's what families do."
The unconditional love in her voice nearly broke him. Six years of institutional care had made him forget what it felt like to have someone believe in him just because he existed.
"Thank you," he managed, his voice rougher than he intended.
But as he headed toward the stairs, one thought kept echoing in his mind: What happens when that support is based on them thinking he was someone he wasn't? What happens when they realize the son they loved might not actually be their son at all?
And more immediately pressing - how was he supposed to convince a suspicious ten-year-old that her brother hadn't been replaced by a pod person when he was actually a twelve-year-old orphan from another world wearing her brother's face?
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
[Current Status:]
[Host: Yukitaka Izumi (Soul: Ryu Miyamoto)]
[Level: 1 (8/100 XP)]
[Skill Points Available: 0]
—
[Stats:]
- Serving: 2/100
- Receiving: 1/100
- Setting: 3/100
- Spiking: 0/100
- Blocking: 0/100
- Stamina: 15/100
- Jump Height: 28/100
- Game Sense: 15/100
—
[Abilities:]
- Empathic Connection (Level 1) - Active
- Critical Strike (Level 1) - Locked
—
[Active Quests:]
- Daily: Complete 1 hour of focused volleyball practice (Deadline: 16 hours)
- Tutorial: Successfully receive 10 serves in a row (No deadline)
- Main: Find Your Team (Deadline: 30 days)
—
[Status Effects:]
- Memory Integration (PAUSED) - Traumatic experiences being processed (70 hours remaining)
- Identity Displacement - Moderate disorientation when confronting family relationships (17 hours remaining)
- Family Bonding - Enhanced emotional connection, +10% XP gain from family activities (67 hours remaining)