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

...

Unfortunately,

I enjoyed volleyball. I was happy running on 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 starting point of my misfortune. I was offered a pro position at a young age and joined a team. No matter how great my skills were, I was only a middle schooler, so it was natural to be relegated to the bench. But if I can't play on the court, is it even volleyball?

Then one day, I stood on the court during a match to change the momentum. I gave it my all, striving 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 opponent was a player famous for being much larger and more powerful than me, and I was just a growing middle schooler. It was only natural that my bones were 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 stopped there... it would have been a mercy.

It took away my entire world.

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