I still remember the hand that was reached out to me. The question of whether I wanted to try volleyball. The sport my brother pushed me toward soon became my life, my everything.

...

Unfortunately,

I loved volleyball. I was happy running across the court, and the cheers directed at me were more joyful than anything else. Just a little more, just a bit more...

Perhaps that greed was the beginning of my misfortune. I was offered a pro spot at a young age and joined a team. No matter how great my skills were, I was just a middle schooler, so it was natural to be relegated to the bench. But if I can't run on the court, is it even volleyball?

Then one day, I stood on the court during a match to change the atmosphere. I gave it my all, trying to be higher, faster, and more accurate.

That was the day I broke my fingers. While blocking, I was hit hard by a spike, breaking the ring and pinky fingers of my right hand. The opposing player was famous for being much larger and more powerful than me, and I was just a growing middle schooler. It was only natural for my bones to be weak, and my fingers shattered easily.

Well, anyway. That's all in the past. I fell into a slump, but I stood up again thanks to my brother. On the day of my comeback, I got into the car to head back to that place once more.

Ah. Ahhh. That day, I lost my everything. The world tore us apart as if to say I didn't belong in volleyball. No, if it had ended there... it would have been a mercy.

It took my entire world away.

Everyone died except for me. My brother, my dad, my mom. In an instant, I was left all alone.

I headed to Japan, where my uncle lives. There was no point in staying in Korea by myself. I started attending Nekoma High in Tokyo, and a year has already passed.