"Akashi-senpai, your rotation is next."
The voice near his ear abruptly recalled Alex from his mental daze. The persistent squeak of the ball against the floor and the friction of shoe soles surged into his consciousness like a tidal wave.
He opened his eyes.
A delicate-featured boy's face, etched with a faint apprehension, came into view. Behind the boy, the characteristic glare of the indoor gymnasium's lighting was palpable.
"???"
Alex was instantly and utterly perplexed.
What was this?
Who am I now?
Where exactly am I situated?
Am I still under the influence?
"Akashi-senpai? Akashi-senpai? Are you feeling alright?"
Seemingly registering the bewilderment in Alex's eyes, the refined-looking boy felt compelled to speak again.
The boy was not speaking Mandarin; the language sounded unequivocally Japanese, yet for reasons unknown, Alex comprehended it perfectly.
Alex scrutinized the youth. When that simultaneously familiar and alien face registered in the depths of his mind, a torrent of memory cascaded from the recesses of his being, eliciting a sensation that was both agonizing and euphoric.
Akashi Asuka.
15 years old.
179 cm in height.
Currently a third-year student at Senkoku Middle School in Miyagi Prefecture.
A short time ago, he was ambushed during an altercation and struck with a blunt object on the back of the head. He experienced sustained dizziness and lightheadedness throughout the afternoon until he suddenly collapsed, losing consciousness. Subsequently, and without any perceptible transition, his body was occupied by Alex.
The primary offensive player for the volleyball squad.
An ongoing intra-squad scrimmage…
From this massive repository of recollections, which demonstrably did not originate with him, Alex swiftly extracted critical operational data, yet this only served to deepen his confusion.
"Did I genuinely transmigrate? Was that cryptic voice merely jesting?"
Alex.
24 years old.
Following his graduation from university, he had held a position as a basketball instructor at a provincial training facility for five years, encompassing the three years of the pandemic.
Exacerbated by the pandemic, the already endemic involution (intense, internally-focused competition) across virtually all domestic industries had approached its zenith.
During his collegiate years, Alex considered himself a relatively astute operator; otherwise, despite his innate lack of stellar physical gifts, he would not have maintained a starting role on the school team for two years.
Had it not been for the injury he later incurred precisely due to his overly strategic approach, Alex's professional trajectory should have been far more promising.
However, to Alex's profound astonishment, upon entering the workforce, he encountered a collective even more strategically adept than himself.
Yet, the focus of this group was not on individual competence; it was on whose interpersonal finesse allowed them to cultivate the most advantageous rapport with the superiors and management.
Coincidentally, this social maneuvering was fundamentally outside Alex's wheelhouse.
Consequently, despite his maximal effort and strategic gambling in his tasks, his returns were routinely dwarfed by those who dedicated their time to cultivating relationships with the boss.
When the disparity between input and reward became utterly untenable, even Alex felt his competitive fire gradually sputtering out.
It was precisely then that a distinct voice materialized in his psyche…
"Since the stakes are no longer worth it here, perhaps a wager elsewhere is in order?" Having recently achieved a state of complete intoxication, Alex was in no condition to rationally question the origin of the voice in his head. In his alcoholic fog, upon hearing the proposition, only one overriding thought possessed him:
"Gamble! Absolutely, I will gamble! If you possess such capability, locate a truly equitable and meritocratic environment, and I will compete against them until I dominate!"
And so, upon regaining consciousness, Alex found himself confronting this precise scenario.
"..."
Alex was rendered speechless. He prided himself on his adaptability, but this sudden, non-negotiable relocation still elicited a strong desire to voice a sharp complaint.
Fortunately, Alex had been an orphan in his prior existence, unencumbered by attachments, allowing his stunned intellect to resume functionality relatively quickly.
It was merely a bit painful as it rebooted.
Hmph!
These young players display a notable lack of sportsmanship, actually ambushing someone in his twenties!
Wait! I wasn't the one struck! Disregard that observation then.
"I am fine, Nishimori. My warm-up is complete; I will enter the court immediately."
Alex gently massaged his still slightly aching head, offered a small smile to the young Nishimori Tomohiko before him, and then rose, proceeding toward the volleyball court. While he had not yet fully reconciled with the persona of Akashi Asuka, that metaphysical conundrum could certainly wait until after the conclusion of this internal practice match!
Observing Alex's retreat, the delicate-featured Nishimori Tomohiko stood momentarily transfixed.
He harbored an undeniable sensation that Akashi-senpai seemed subtly different today.
…
"Volleyball!"
Stepping onto the court, Alex felt a powerful emotional stirring.
Alex had acquired a basic, predominantly theoretical understanding of volleyball during his university years, as his primary athletic discipline was basketball. However, combining this foundational knowledge with the physical muscle memory inherited from Akashi Asuka should theoretically suffice to navigate this intra-squad scrimmage.
Hmm.
Presumably.
"Akashi-senpai!"
"Akashi-senpai!" ...
Akashi Asuka (referred to by this name henceforth for narrative convenience) had barely reached the court before a cluster of first- and second-year students approached him and bowed respectfully. Yet, judging by the undercurrent in their expressions, dread appeared to significantly outweigh respect.
This was, admittedly, understandable.
After all, Akashi Asuka, beyond his status as the incumbent main attacker for the volleyball team, possessed a secondary identity: a "delinquent."
Though Alex's inherited memory suggested that Akashi Asuka had done little genuinely outrageous aside from a few fights, within the context of the Japanese school system, the mere designation of "delinquent" was sufficient to instill widespread fear.
In Japanese middle schools, "academic high achievers," "leading figures in sports clubs," and "delinquents" constituted the three generally acknowledged power hierarchies.
Moreover, Akashi Asuka possessed two of these defining qualities.
No.
Perhaps even all three.
Because, according to the memory, beyond these two attributes, Akashi Asuka was also remarkably attractive. In just over two years of middle school, he had accumulated no fewer than twenty Valentine's Day chocolates and earnest love letters.
"Pleased to commence the match!"
"Pleased to commence the match!"
Following a swift, formal exchange, both sides lined up, performed a loud salute, and the scrimmage rapidly commenced.
Akashi Asuka was assigned to the Red Team. This internal competition had deliberately fragmented the volleyball club's six core players. Besides him, the two other key players designated for Akashi Asuka's team were the setter "Mishita Ryuhei" and the opposite hitter "Oda Miki."
Whistle!
The Red Team initiated the serve.
A second-year substitute executed a simple underhand serve, standard for a middle school competitor. The ball tracked a modest arc and descended securely into the opposing back row.
"I've got it!"
The Blue Team's starting libero, "Kurata Neko," spread his arms and announced, receiving the serve with ease. The Blue Team's substitute setter quickly followed up, delivering a light, high set to the net, guiding it past the already airborne, anticipating middle blocker "Omae Masato."
Thump!
Snap!
In an instant, two distinct, crisp sounds reverberated across the gymnasium floor.
The first was the audible impact of Omae Masato's spike, and the second was the decisive sound of the volleyball being blocked by Akashi Asuka.
Akashi Asuka is the player with the greatest stature on the entire volleyball team. Under ordinary circumstances, successfully spiking over him during an intra-team practice match proves exceedingly challenging.
At 179cm, he is notably tall for a third-year junior high student.
While contemporaries of similar age may surpass him in height elsewhere, none do so within the Sengoku Junior High volleyball program. Sengoku Junior High's competitive standing is merely average within Miyagi Prefecture.
In contrast, at Kitagawa First Junior High, Miyagi Prefecture's dominant team, it is rumored that the mean height of their principal players exceeds 180cm.
"Hmm... Kitagawa First Junior High, that name sounds familiar!"
A fleeting, curious thought passed through his mind, and Akashi Asuka's focus immediately reverted to his net defense.
Although his block was effective, it did not result in an immediate point. Instead, the ball was received at a crucial moment by the starting libero, Kuramae, and the Blue Team was already mobilizing its secondary attack.
Frankly, Akashi Asuka was somewhat astonished that the ball had been recovered.
They were, after all, only in their third year of junior high. Though Alex had frequently heard in his previous life of the superior sports infrastructure in Japanese junior high schools, he only truly grasped the impressive atmosphere upon direct experience.
At the very least, every participant exhibited serious concentration in their play.
"Heh heh~~~"
Akashi Asuka allowed a small smile to curve his lips, conceding a rush of excitement.
Competitive athletics are inherently tedious when not approached with genuine commitment.
He now fully grasped the rationale for the voice bringing him here; school competitive sports, in a foundational sense, could indeed be characterized as an "equitable and meritocratic" competitive sphere.
The volleyball soared high, and Omae Masato elevated for a jump once more. Perceiving this, Akashi Asuka swiftly synchronized with his rhythm.
However, in the following fraction of a second, the volleyball bypassed Omae Masato and traveled to the left extremity of the block, where a figure with a vertical leap comparable to Omae Masato's ascended skyward.
It was the other core middle blocker, Kazama Jujiro.
Bang!
With a sharp report, the volleyball violently impacted the court, subsequently rebounding high into the air…
The score stood at 1:0.
"Hahahaha, you fell for the misdirection, Akashi. Today, Kazama and I are collaborating to secure a victory over you!"
Witnessing his team score, Omae Masato placed his hands on his hips and laughed heartily. While the lower-class members of the volleyball club harbored fear toward Akashi Asuka, the main players generally shared a positive camaraderie.
Yet, notwithstanding their amiable relationship, both Omae Masato and Kazama Jujiro had harbored ambitions for Akashi Asuka's "ace" designation for a considerable period.
One can only conclude… intense competition is ubiquitous.
Akashi Asuka offered no verbal retort to Omae Masato's "provocation." He simply gazed at the spot on the court where the volleyball had struck, showing no evidence of disappointment. Instead, the corners of his mouth slowly began to ascend, and his expression progressively acquired a "fanatical" intensity.
Good heavens.
The compelling appeal of this caliber of competition is utterly captivating!
[Ding!]
[Host's "Soul of Involution" detected burning fiercely...]
[Involution System officially activated...]