The change didn't announce itself loudly.
There was no speech from the coach, no declaration in front of the team, no dramatic shift in the lineup pinned to the bulletin board. Instead, it arrived in small, almost invisible ways the kind that only someone paying attention would notice.
Kazuki noticed immediately.
The warm-up drills were the same, but the balls came faster. During serve receive, he was no longer paired with other first-years. Instead, he was rotated into formations with the second-years, placed deliberately into unstable positions where communication mattered more than instinct. The coach watched closely, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
Kazuki adjusted without complaint.
His feet moved before his thoughts fully formed. He called out short, efficient commands. When a ball slipped past him, he didn't flinch or apologize he reset, tracked the next one, and made sure it didn't happen twice.
They're testing consistency now, he realized. Not potential.
The system hovered quietly at the edge of his awareness, but it did not interrupt. It had learned, as Kazuki had, that this was not a moment for numbers.
During scrimmage, the real test began.
The coach placed Kazuki on the court with a mixed lineup two second-years, one third-year wing spiker, and a setter who was known for his temper. The other side of the net fielded the team's strongest available rotation, stacked deliberately to expose weaknesses.
Kazuki felt it immediately.
The block timing was tighter. The serves were sharper. The defenders shifted faster, reading angles instead of reacting late. Every mistake was punished.
On the third rally, Kazuki mistimed his approach by half a beat. The ball clipped the block and dropped straight down on his side. No one shouted. No one blamed him.
That silence weighed heavier than criticism.
That's on me, he thought, forcing his shoulders to relax.
On the next rally, the setter hesitated just long enough for Kazuki to recognize the fear in his body language. The toss came late and low, almost apologetic. Kazuki adjusted mid-air, shortened his swing, and rolled the ball off the block's fingertips.
The point wasn't flashy.
It was correct.
The third-year wing spiker glanced at him afterward, expression unreadable.
The rally count climbed. Sweat soaked through Kazuki's shirt. His breathing grew heavier, but his movements stayed precise. He began calling for the ball more not aggressively, but decisively. He demanded it when the formation broke down, when the timing felt off, when the setter needed an anchor.
Not because he wanted to be the ace because the team needed stability.The coach noticed.
When scrimmage ended, the whistle echoed sharply through the gym. Kazuki bent forward slightly, hands on his knees, lungs burning. He felt the pleasant ache of being pushed to the edge and not falling off.
The coach's gaze lingered on him longer than usual.
"Hayama," he said.
Kazuki straightened immediately. "Yes, Coach."
"You're still a first-year," the coach continued evenly. "Don't forget that."
Kazuki nodded. "I won't."
A pause followed.
"But," the coach added, "that doesn't mean you're allowed to play like one."
The words landed hard, not encouragement, not praise.
Expectation.
The gym felt heavier afterward, as if the air itself had thickened.
That night, Kazuki stayed late. Not because he was told to, but because leaving felt… wrong. He practiced serves alone, counting repetitions in his head. He focused on placement instead of power, on consistency instead of spectacle.
His serve percentage climbed slowly. His toss steadied. His shoulders burned.
The system finally surfaced when he collapsed onto the bench, chest rising and falling rapidly.
____________________________________
[PLAYER STATUS – KAZUKI HAYAMA]
Overall Player Level: Lv.3 → Lv.4 (Progressing)
Stamina: 55 → 58
Power (Spiking): 50 → 52
Technique: 44 → 47
Setting: 28 → 31
Serve: 32 → 35
Mental Fortitude: 57 → 60
Notes:
• Increased load tolerance detected
• Decision-making speed improved under pressure
• Growth remains within realistic physiological limits
___________________________________
Kazuki stared at the updated stats, sweat dripping onto the floor beneath him.
So this is what real growth looks like, he thought. Slow. Uncomfortable. Earned.
Weeks passed.
Matches followed practice. Practice followed recovery. Kazuki's name began circulating quietly not in headlines, but in conversations. Opposing teams started shifting blockers toward him. Servers aimed his zone more frequently. Coaches began whispering during timeouts when he rotated to the front row.
He felt the pressure most keenly during a mid-season match against a disciplined defensive team.
They read him.
His first spike was dug cleanly. The second was funneled into the libero's arms. On the third attempt, the block sealed him off completely.
Kazuki landed, heart pounding.
'So this is how they handle me now'
The setter glanced at him, uncertain.
Kazuki shook his head once and called for a quick instead not to score, but to disrupt rhythm. The move worked. The next rally opened space. The following one forced a mismatch.
They didn't win because of him.They won because he adapted.
After the match, Kazuki sat alone in the locker room, towel draped over his shoulders, replaying moments in his head. He didn't feel invincible. He felt… exposed and growing.
That was when the invitation didn't come.
Not yet.
Instead, a rumor reached him.
"There's talk," a second-year muttered during cleanup. "About next year."
Kazuki pretended not to listen.
"About early monitoring," the boy continued. "Youth level stuff. They're watching younger players now."
Kazuki's fingers tightened briefly around the mop handle.
So the timeline's aligning, he thought. Earlier than expected but not impossible, that night, he lay awake again, staring at the ceiling.
He thought of players who would soon enter the stage Kageyama Tobio, raw and explosive. Miya Atsumu, chaotic and brilliant. Monsters who didn't ask permission to exist.
I can't meet them as I am now, Kazuki admitted but he smiled faintly. Good because this year his first year wasn't about being chosen.
It was about becoming someone who couldn't be ignored.
The system pulsed once, quietly.
_____________________________________
[STATUS UPDATE]
Trajectory: Ahead of Standard Development Curve
Risk: Elevated Expectations
Opportunity: Early National-Level Attention (Conditional)
______________________________________
Kazuki closed his eyes.
Tomorrow, training would continue.
Tomorrow, the pressure would increase.
Tomorrow, he would be tested again and that was fine because he was no longer asking what a first-year was allowed to be.
He was finding out what he could become before anyone tried to stop him.