The rhythmic squeak of Hinata's bicycle wheels on the pavement was almost hypnotic. Ryu sat sideways on the back seat, his gym bag clutched in his lap, watching the familiar streets of what was supposedly his neighborhood roll by. Everything looked right - the convenience stores, the narrow residential roads, the telephone poles strung with power lines - but it all felt like a movie set, too perfect and foreign at the same time.
"You're being really quiet," Hinata called over his shoulder, pedaling harder as they approached a small hill. "Are you sure your head's okay? You took a pretty hard hit back there."
"I'm fine," Ryu said automatically, though his nose was still throbbing under the bandage the nurse had applied. "Just thinking."
"About volleyball?"
"About..." Ryu paused, watching a group of elementary school kids playing in a small park. "About how everything can change in one moment."
Hinata slowed the bike slightly, glancing back with concern. "That's pretty heavy, Izumi. You sure you didn't hit your head harder than we thought?"
Before Ryu could respond, something triggered in his mind - maybe it was the mention of change, or the sight of those carefree children, or just the overwhelming strangeness of being in someone else's life. The world around him began to fade, replaced by memories that felt both distant and achingly immediate.
"NEC RED ROCKETS WIN THE V-LEAGUE CHAMPIONSHIP!"
The announcer's voice boomed across the packed gymnasium as confetti rained down from the ceiling. Six-year-old Ryu bounced excitedly in the stands, his small hands clapping until they stung. Down on the court, his father stood with his teammates, golden trophy gleaming under the harsh lights, his face split by the biggest grin Ryu had ever seen.
"Dad won! Dad won!" Ryu shouted, not caring that his voice was lost in the roar of the crowd.
"He sure did, sweetheart," his mother laughed, her own eyes bright with tears of pride. "Come on, let's go congratulate him."
They pushed through the celebrating crowd, and when his father spotted them, his grin somehow got even wider. He hoisted Ryu up onto his right shoulder in one smooth motion, the championship trophy balanced on his left.
"What do you think, champ?" his father called up to him, voice hoarse from cheering with his teammates. "Pretty cool, right?"
From his perch high above the crowd, Ryu felt like he was on top of the world. The trophy was even more beautiful up close - all gleaming gold with a volleyball at the top, words etched into the base that he couldn't quite read yet but knew were important.
"Dad, you're the best volleyball player in the whole world!" Ryu declared with absolute six-year-old certainty.
His father's laugh was rich and warm, the kind of sound that made everything feel safe and possible. "I don't know about that, buddy. But I promise I'll teach you everything I know, okay? Someday you'll be even better than your old man."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
They posed for what felt like a hundred pictures - Ryu grinning from his shoulder, his mother beaming beside them, teammates crowding in with their own families. The camera flashes made everything feel magical, like they were movie stars or heroes in a story that would always have a happy ending.
Later, after the celebrations had wound down and the trophies had been safely stowed in the car, they drove home through the dark streets. Ryu sat in his booster seat in the back, still wearing his father's too-big championship t-shirt like a dress, chattering nonstop about the match.
"And when you did that spike in the third set - BOOM! - it was like lightning! And the other team couldn't even see it coming! And then when - "
"Easy there, speed racer," his mother laughed from the passenger seat. "Take a breath."
"But it was so cool!" Ryu protested. "Dad, can we practice tomorrow? I want to learn how to spike like that!"
"Tomorrow's Sunday," his father said, catching Ryu's eyes in the rearview mirror. "How about we spend the morning on the roof? I'll show you some basic receives first."
"Can I hold the trophy while we practice?"
"Absolutely not," his mother said firmly, but she was smiling. "That trophy is going on the mantle where it belongs, not getting knocked around during volleyball practice."
"Aw, Mom..."
"Your mother's right," his father agreed. "But I'll tell you what - if you can receive ten of my serves in a row, I'll let you hold it for one picture. Deal?"
"Deal!" Ryu shouted, then immediately started planning his practice strategy. Ten receives. How hard could it be?
His parents were talking quietly in the front seat now, something about dinner plans and calling grandparents to share the good news. Ryu pressed his face against the window, watching the city lights blur past, his mind full of volleyball dreams and championship trophies and a future where he'd be tall and strong like his dad.
He was planning his victory speech for when he won his own championship when the truck ran the red light.
There was no time to scream, no time to brace for impact. One moment they were talking and laughing and planning tomorrow's practice, and the next -
CRASH.
The sound was like the world ending. Metal screaming against metal, glass exploding, his mother's cut-off cry of surprise and fear. The car spun like a carnival ride gone wrong, centrifugal force pressing Ryu against the window as everything that had been safe and solid became chaos and terror.
When the spinning stopped, the silence was somehow worse than the noise had been.
"Mom?" Ryu's voice came out small and broken. "Dad?"
His father was slumped over the steering wheel, not moving. Dark liquid ran down his forehead, looking black in the broken streetlight. His mother had turned toward the back seat, her hand reaching for him, but her eyes were closed and her arm hung at a wrong angle.
"Mom? Dad?" Ryu tried to unbuckle his seatbelt, but his hands were shaking too badly. "Wake up! Please wake up!"
The trophy had fallen onto the floor, its golden surface cracked, the little volleyball on top broken off and rolling somewhere under the seat. Ryu could smell something sharp and chemical, could hear sirens getting closer, could taste blood in his mouth from where he'd bitten his tongue.
But his parents weren't waking up.
"Help!" he screamed toward the broken windshield. "Somebody help us!"
People were running toward the car now, voices shouting things he couldn't understand. Hands reached through the broken window, checking pulses, asking questions he couldn't answer. Someone was trying to calm him down, but all he wanted was for his parents to open their eyes and say everything was okay.
The paramedics had to cut him out of the car. They kept telling him he was brave, that everything would be fine, that he just needed to hold still for a moment longer. But when they lifted him onto the stretcher, he could see his parents being loaded into different ambulances, covered in blankets that hid their faces.
"Are they okay?" he asked the paramedic sitting beside him in the ambulance. "Are my mom and dad okay?"
The woman's smile was sad and careful. "The doctors are going to take really good care of them, sweetie. You don't need to worry about anything except getting better yourself."
But that wasn't an answer, and even at six years old, Ryu knew what it meant when adults didn't give you a real answer.
The hospital was a blur of white hallways and bright lights and people asking him questions he didn't know how to answer. What was his name? Ryu Miyamoto. How old was he? Six. What was his phone number? He didn't know - Mom always called people for him. Did he have any other family? Maybe grandparents? Aunts and uncles? He thought so, but he didn't know their names or where they lived.
A nice lady in a suit sat with him while the doctors checked for injuries. She had kind eyes and spoke in a gentle voice, but she asked a lot of questions that made Ryu's stomach hurt.
"Ryu, honey, is there anyone else who takes care of you? Anyone besides your mom and dad?"
"Mrs. Tanaka next door sometimes," he said, swinging his legs from the tall hospital chair. "She makes really good cookies."
"That's good. What about family? Grandma and grandpa?"
"Grandma lives far away. We visit her sometimes at New Year's." His voice got smaller. "Can I see my mom and dad now? I want to tell them I'm okay."
The woman - she'd said her name was Ms. Sato and that she worked for something called Social Services - exchanged a look with the doctor that Ryu didn't understand. Adults were always doing that, talking with their eyes in a way that made him feel like he was missing something important.
"Sweetie," Ms. Sato said carefully, "your mom and dad are very hurt. The doctors are doing everything they can to help them, but it's going to take time."
"How much time?"
Another one of those looks. "We don't know yet."
That was when Ryu started to understand that something was very, very wrong. Adults always knew things like how long it would take to get better or when someone would come home. If they didn't know, it meant something bad was happening.
He didn't find out exactly how bad until the next morning.
Ms. Sato came back after he'd spent the night in the pediatric ward, sleeping fitfully between nurses checking on him every few hours. She brought a small suitcase that he recognized - his weekend bag that Mom used when they visited Grandma.
"Ryu," she said, sitting down on the edge of his hospital bed. "I need to tell you something very important."
He knew from her tone, even before she said the words, that his life as he knew it was over.
"Your mom and dad were hurt very badly in the accident. The doctors tried everything they could, but... they couldn't save them, honey. They died last night."
The words didn't make sense at first. Died? Like in movies? Like when goldfish went to sleep and never woke up? That happened to other people, not to his parents. Not to him.
"But Dad promised," he whispered. "He promised to teach me volleyball. We were going to red rpractice tomorrow."
Ms. Sato's eyes filled with tears, which scared Ryu more than anything else had. Adults weren't supposed to cry. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I know this is very hard to understand."
"When are they coming back?"
"Oh, honey..." She reached out like she wanted to hug him, but stopped when he flinched away. "They can't come back. When people die, they can't come back."
The world tilted sideways. Everything that had been solid and real and safe - the roof practices, the championship trophy, the promise to teach him how to spike - all of it was just gone. Disappeared like it had never existed at all.
"What about me?" he asked in a voice so small he wasn't sure she could hear it.
"We're going to take care of you," Ms. Sato said. "We've found you a place to stay where there are other children and nice people who will look after you until we can find you a new family."
A new family. Like his parents were shoes that had worn out and could be replaced.
The ride to Sunflower Children's Home took forty-five minutes through parts of the city Ryu had never seen before. Ms. Sato tried to make conversation, pointing out parks and schools and saying cheerful things about his "new adventure," but Ryu pressed his face against the window and didn't respond.
He was clutching the only thing they'd let him take from the wreckage - his father's volleyball, somehow miraculously unscratched despite everything else being broken. It smelled like his dad's cologne and the gym where he practiced, and Ryu held it tightly, wishing all of this was a mere dream.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
[Current Status:]
[Host: Yukitaka Izumi (Soul: Ryu Miyamoto)]
[Level: 1 (0/100 XP)]
[Skill Points Available: 0]
—
[Stats:]
- Serving: 2/100
- Receiving: 1/100
- Setting: 3/100
- Spiking: 0/100
- Blocking: 0/100
- Stamina: 15/100
- Jump Height: 28/100
- Game Sense: 15/100
—
[Abilities:]
- Empathic Connection (Level 1) - Active
- Critical Strike (Level 1) - Locked
—
[Active Quests:]
- Daily: Complete 1 hour of focused volleyball practice (Deadline: 22 hours)
- Tutorial: Successfully receive 10 serves in a row (No deadline)
- Main: Find Your Team (Deadline: 30 days)
—
[New Status Effect: Emotional Processing]
[Effect: Enhanced empathy and emotional awareness for 24 hours]
[Trigger: Traumatic memory integration]