The gym was quiet—too quiet.
Even the usual rhythm of volleyballs bouncing, teammates shouting, and shoes skidding was gone.
Only the sound of a single ball echoed, thudding against the wall, caught, and tossed again.
Riku stood alone in the gym, staring blankly ahead.
His hand trembled.
His system interface flickered in his mind's eye, glitching, pulsing red.
[SYSTEM ERROR]
Warning: Data Stream Overload. Emotional Memory Conflict Detected.
System Sync at 63% – Stability Compromised.
User Identity Conflict: Lockdown Imminent.
He dropped the ball.
Clutched his temple.
Flashes. They came like broken TV frames—blinking images from a life not fully his, yet deeply his own.
A hospital bed.
His mother crying beside a machine.
Doctors murmuring something about brain death.
Then… nothing.
Then…
A strange room filled with stars.
"You've lived enough with regret."
"Now live with purpose."
BAM.
The gym door opened.
Kiyoko stepped in, halting when she saw him.
He was pale, soaked in sweat, panting heavily, one hand gripping the bench for balance.
"Riku?"
He didn't respond.
"Riku!"
She rushed to him just as he slumped to the floor.
Inside the System
A black void surrounded him.
He stood alone, floating in a digital-like limbo.
And there—before him—stood a mirrored version of himself.
Taller. Older. Wearing the suit he'd died in.
Cold, hollow eyes stared at him.
"You're running from something," the echo said.
"I'm not."
"You've brought your weakness into this world too. You pretend to be reborn—but you're still shackled."
"Shut up."
"You were nothing in your past life. A genius with no friends. No love. No purpose."
"Shut up."
"You think Shimizu will fix you? You think being strong will give you meaning? You're still a coward."
Riku clenched his fists.
"I am scared," he whispered. "But this time, I'm not running."
He stepped forward—shoving his hand into the chest of his echo.
The system glitched violently.
The echo shattered like glass.
[SYSTEM ALERT – CORE IDENTITY RESTORED]
Emotional Sync: COMPLETE
You have reconciled with your past. Memory Integration: 98%
New Trait Unlocked – "Resolve of the Fallen"
Immune to fear-based debuffs. Slight resistance to manipulation skills.
System Stability: Restored. Sync Rate: 73%
Stat Boost – Mental Fortitude +1.0 | Focus +1.0
Reality
Riku woke up on a bench in the nurse's office.
Bandage on his head.
Someone was sitting beside him.
Kiyoko.
Her hand was resting on his.
"I passed out?" he rasped.
"You scared me," she said, eyes not leaving his. "I thought… something happened."
"I remembered. My death. My past."
She blinked. "Your… death?"
"I told you before, right? I wasn't from here."
"I thought you were joking."
"I wish I was."
He smiled bitterly.
"I was… brilliant. But cold. Obsessed with performance. I never had friends. No one came to my funeral except my mom. Even then, I didn't say goodbye."
Kiyoko didn't interrupt.
He continued.
"I always thought I'd be remembered as some great mind. But in the end… I was just forgettable."
Silence.
Then, quietly, she said, "You're not forgettable now."
Riku looked at her.
And for a moment, the walls he built his whole life cracked.
He nodded once. "Thanks."
Later That Week – Back at Practice
Riku returned to the court stronger than ever.
His movements were sharper. His eyes clearer. His tone more focused.
He corrected drills without hesitation. Predicted movement with startling precision. Even Kageyama raised an eyebrow at how in sync Riku had become with the team.
During a scrimmage, he flawlessly coordinated a block with Kuroda.
"Nice read!" the second-year finally shouted, slapping his back.
Riku just grinned.
[System Message – Rival Bond Upgraded]
Kuroda Bond Level: 3/3 – "Defensive Sync: Wall Split" Unlocked
Increases success rate of double-blocks with Kuroda by 15% when timed correctly.
After practice, Ukai pulled him aside.
"You alright, Amagami?"
"Better than ever."
Ukai studied him. "That's a dangerous look in your eyes. Like you've got something to prove."
"I do."
The coach smirked. "Good. Because the tournament starts in six days. First match is against a team we lost to last year. If you're half as good as you say, then show me."
"I will."
Later That Night
As he opened his locker to grab his bag, a small folded piece of paper slipped out.
He opened it.
Neat handwriting.
"I believe in this you more than the old you. Keep going. – K.S."
He smiled.
And for the first time since coming to this world, he didn't feel like he was just surviving.
He was living.