Phantom Opera: White Soliloquy

Author's note:

I figured I should try this and see how it goes. Let me know if the new layout of chapters with the single spacing is a bit better on the eyes and the like. If there are any questions, then feel free to ask; I will be a bit vague if they come into spoiler territory or cover anything I plan on revealing at a later date.

Finally, apologies for the strange schedule...or well lack of one altogether. From now on there will be at least one new chapter every month (this goes for the four main fics I'm handling: Phantom Masquerade, Scars of White, Class Wars, Piracy! One chapter for each of them every month.) with the word count increasing to at least 3000 words per chapter. Let me know if that's a change for the better as well. Or if you prefer the 1000 words with more frequent updates.

That and a surprise that I'm looking forward sometime in the near future (Probably next month or the month after), I'm excited for it. But I'll reveal more details with that as it becomes relevant.

---

...That's the fifth time. Slowly. Slowly the marks are being imprinted upon my body. Even if my eyes didn't follow his gaze, my body will remember the angle and direction of his spikes due to the sheer power alone. The light stinging along my forearms and hands reflects that fact. I haven't shut it out yet, one-touches are becoming more common, but I have yet to completely trounce the attack.

In terms of volleyball his stats are pretty monstrous, when considering the memorized form and years of experience along with an athletic build from years of training this was bound to happen.

There are plenty of options I could consider from here... But well, only one interests me. It had my brain churning from the start. Every opponent has one... A weakness. In Kamoshida's case that would be his teammates and some of their immaturity. Particularly the left hitter from the first set. I could prod until his behaviour backfires and risk crumpling from the inside. He wouldn't call substitutes as it wouldn't be exactly equal. The match being so close to ending is also a consideration in favour of that response.

The logical reasoning of my head practically screams that, that is the most ideal solution. Take the weakness; target the eyes, hit the groin, solar plexus, jaw, liver. That has always been a viable strategy for winning, everyone has weak spots. Taking advantage of those should always be an effective modus operandi...

Then why?

Before even considering those options, I decided to fight head on with an unfair, unfamiliar battleground. To throw the little experience and interest in this sport at the height of its world before the all-consuming audience. No one expects my victory. Not even I do. In fact, everyone expects the opposite, a complete beating. Like a disobedient dog looking up to its master, completely one-sided.

Every time I think that my body generates a sort of heat. Not some tangible, detectable phenomena. Something deep within, it stirred... well something inside. Every single opportunity that pushed me to compete with Kamoshida, every single time it presented itself my body immediately rushed forward to clash, for victory or defeat...

That no longer matters. This is a practice match. A sport I don't even hold any interest in. I don't know any of the people present, I met them mere hours ago. I've barely held a conversation with the majority present, at this moment I don't particularly care to either.

Instead, the words resound throughout my head continuously: "Then prove that the existence of Ayanokouji Kiyotaka is truly great. That would be worthwhile don't you think?"

Sticking to the background was always a conscious choice, but whether I was truly an innocuous character or not never really mattered in the first place. It was merely a choice of convenience and admittedly, it was a reality regardless of my own choices.

A name that would've been completely forgotten by history in some dark corner, nothing particularly memorable or good about the existence that was Ayanokouji Kiyotaka. It would be like they never existed in the first place. That would be for the best. Maybe acquaintances might think: "Oh, there was a guy like that, huh?" And that would be the end of it. My existence would be utterly inconsequential in the long term, life would continue to move along for everyone before and long after meeting. Like a bystander, a face that you might have seen but immediately filters through the memory and is almost unnoticed amongst the hustle and bustle.

Boom.

The destructive serve of a certain gold medallist rattled the gymnasium. The ball zeroed in on my position, no notable spin, not a difficult position. All in all, it was set with just force, almost as if challenging whether I would stand and take it. What other choice was there? The ball made a loud sound as it contacted my arms before springing into the air slightly behind me.

"Suzui-san!" Mishima tried to direct her set towards the right wing where he currently occupied.

My body sprang forth without any conscious input of my own. "Suzui." I prepared to vault into the air with enough speed and height to surprise the defending players currently looking on with awe.

Without any deliberation the ball rapidly convened on my position, set in the optimal place for me to wallop the ball with the accumulated power from sprinting into position. Whether anything jumps or not it doesn't matter. Whether there's a wall or not, it means nothing. There's only one thing to do. If a wall presents itself break through. Whether they react or not I'm going to hit it all the same, unwavering, constant pressure will descend upon them. Only with that can I draw the monster hiding behind them into the daylight.

The previous game had already established me as the most reliable member of the team, judging from the fact that Suzui chose to set to myself instead of Mishima whom she had known for longer. Good, this meant that things were developing in a positive way. My chances of clashing directly with Kamoshida increased drastically with this. If the setters dissented, then there would be no reason to carry on and my interest in this match would be completely snuffed out immediately.

The ball effortlessly slammed into the floor before the defenders could react, admittedly Mishima served as a good distraction. Despite that Kamoshida let the team know his thoughts.

"C'mon, this might be practice but that's a novice error! Make sure you get your heads in the game, show the ability of a national team!" The students on the other side all startled took a deep breath and exclaimed in unison "Yes sir!"

If there was one consolation, then it was that the crowd wouldn't pay much attention to my performance. Or at least that'll be the case for a short time. The star team performing on the other side will steal their attention and the few points we score look like flukes to the amateurs of the audience. Thanks to my previous assertions of little experience with the sport itself they will likely just assume I have good reflexes or fitness rather than an exceptional sense of the sport. Kamoshida chastising them served two purposes: To calm them down, reset morale and to assure the audience that they were still in control and the points only came from the team slacking rather than any inherent gap in skill. Which I was rather thankful for... I'd be remiss not to take advantage of that. I'm just hoping the fallout after the game isn't nuclear...

Following the rules our team begun to rotate, and the next server got ready with the ball at the back right corner of the court. Once again Suzui held the ball in hand and opted for the simple underarm punt into the middle of their court between two players. Well-placed, if I do say so myself. Unfortunately, the pep talk beforehand had cleared the air for their team and they were working at a higher capacity. The ball raised unceremoniously up to the left wing of their court, their setter responding timely to the ball.

"Sonoda!" A rough voice shouted whilst charging towards the net. His body leaped from the 10-foot line rapidly accelerating towards the frontlines, right towards me. That was the first time he had called for the ball. It was a challenge. He was practically screaming for me to come at him with all I've got. I couldn't ask for anything else.

Despite jumping from the backline, he remained airborne for what felt like an eternity. His arm begun to swing even before it left the setter's hands. A quick from the backline? That would require incredible reflexes, accuracy and practice above all else. They must've practiced until blood poured from their hands... I'll shut it down even if it results in some of my own blood being spilled. No, in fact I'll be disappointed if it doesn't. I'm beginning to enjoy this.

The behemoth of a man hammers his arm down as if acting to completely bisect the net and everything in his path. I jump just before the ball contacts the setter, which will no doubt hurl the ball at immense velocity into the all-consuming maw of the monster before me. Before I can even register the sound of the ball contacting flesh, the stinging burning sensation of an object at high speed is left imprinted on my hands. The red raw visage emblematic of such power was on these hands. I barely taken interest in the ball rebounding back into their quarters, none of the players were expecting the powerhouse's failed spike. It was inevitable, after all this was just pure strength. The only requirement to stop it was reflexes to get there in time and enough determination to stop the ball even at the cost of self-sacrifice. Pain and injury, that which didn't even take residence in my thoughts at the moment. The only thing that remained in my mind was the hopeful thought... I hope this isn't it... I need more. I need to know if I can thwart even that. I must prove him wrong.

"..." Silence permeated the hall, as if that last bang killed all conversation in the spacious room.

"..."

Not a single one of the students on the opposing team said a single thing. The audience murmured unintelligibly over the course of a few seconds until their voices picked up loud enough to echo through the hall.

"Did he just...?"

"Has Kamoshida-sensei ever been blocked?"

"...What did he say his name was again?"

"Look even the players don't know what to do!"

"Was that guy bullshitting? He has to have played before..."

"Why lie? Nah, I think it's just a fluke, right?"

"Do you think you could stop that spike, fluke included?"

"...I don't think I even want to test it..."

The person in question looked downwards his face clouded, I couldn't quite make out the expression which he held. He had immediately turned when he noticed the ball rebound. Whatever his face revealed wouldn't matter, this match wasn't over with just this. I had to be sure of it, the top of the world wasn't something attained so easily. This was a match with children, he got conceited and fell short. I had seen it happen; it was a loss through overconfidence. That was his own shortcoming. I hoped he would remedy it now. For my sake.

A quiet chuckle reached my ears and the rest of players on the court, the audience hadn't yet realised thanks to the infernal gossip consuming them. Over a few seconds the chuckle grew into a hearty laugh, the culprit of said noise was none other than the subject of everyone's silence moments prior.

"HAHAHA! This is why I continue to teach; I just can't get enough of it! Impressive, Ayanokouji-kun. I haven't been blocked like that since... well since that big stage. It brings me back. I suppose that's why being a teacher is such a valuable experience, seeing the new generation pick up where we left off. It's rewarding, that much is true. Thank you, Ayanokouji-kun." All of the students currently on the field looked bewildered as if this action were completely opposite to the expected reaction. The students in the audience however, reacted to his words with a greater fervour than before.

"I guess that was a first, huh?"

"He really does paint the image of a perfect teacher, right?"

"It makes me want to join the club!"

"What, and try to block that spike? There's a reason it hasn't been blocked by a student until today..."

"Hey, let a guy dream!"

"At least try to keep them realistic..."

"I mean that guy managed to block it, it can't be that bad right?"

"If you want the entire volleyball club to crucify you, or the girls to mark you public enemy number one keep talking."

Even the audience was encompassed by a cast of colourful characters. In comparison I was as plain as they come. The only deviance of my person was what I could accomplish, something which I didn't think held much significance when the subject of personality, life and friendship came to mind.

Even now the only thing taking up my cerebral function was the inevitable raging battle between Kamoshida and myself. The results of this clash could have positive and negative effects depending on the outcome, my popularity for instance could increase due to my athleticism and the events transpired today. But did it matter? Was it even something that I wanted? I couldn't answer those things, they were inconsequential in my eyes.

Instead, I immediately enacted on the words imparted by the one student I had truly respected and deferred to in a single moment, the last I'll ever see him I remember thinking. To ingrain the existence of Ayanokouji Kiyotaka into the hearts and minds of those around me, to make them think, to know that the existence of myself is a boon. It matters, it is something of substance. Even if I myself don't necessarily hold the same belief. I choose to trust in the words of a man I respected more than other acquaintances simply because he possessed something I didn't. Some intangible quality that made me hang onto each and every one of those parting words. That entire process led to this match, to my full attention placed on a single person. The next individual that possibly held something I could contend with, a target to follow and compete with until I knew for sure where we stand.

I wouldn't let the same happen again. For the first time in a long time, possibly the first time ever... I had a regret. Not competing, facing him with my chest held high when the opportunity presented itself. I wouldn't, no I couldn't let that happen again. Horikita Manabu, the first man I had placed the smallest modicum of my trust in. Which is essentially groundbreaking when I consider those words to be coming from myself.

When I wasn't sure what kind of path to continue down after the events months prior. When I wasn't convinced what constituted growth as a person. I chose to believe in the few words of wisdom left by someone with a better understanding of the world. Besides, it isn't like I have much better use for my time now. If the path to a proper life involves a bit more attention, then that's all that it means.

"Let's continue, your serve." Saying as such the magnanimous teacher tossed the ball to our server for the next bout. Unfortunately, now I was on the backline, at least Suzui our better setter is in the front, but I can hardly get in good positions to defend from here, especially when every attempt will require jumping from behind the ten-foot line or keeping behind the frontline defender.

As my thoughts continued to speed by, the ball meandered into the enemy lines. To my surprise the inadequate serve was... a service ace? The left wing and middle blocker of the opponent's team had acted as if they were in each other's way. Why? They had reacted accordingly to worse situations, so why now?

I pondered for a while, looking towards the scoreboard after a second. Is he trying to prolong the match? I'm on the backline. If they had scored immediately, they would've won, and the match would end shortly.

They've made a notable number of mistakes earlier in this set as well, was this the reason? The mistakes earlier were less obvious, a manifestation of carelessness instead of this manufactured feeling. Their attitude changed after that point and Kamoshida's outburst. I can only assume this is a situation of his own creation. Convenient.

Far be it from me to intervene.

The next serve came into the fray, to which the response was swift and organised. The stable receive to a calculated dump from the setter was executed with precision. Almost as if the team from the point prior were completely different. If I'm right the next point will be seemingly simple as well, in our favour.

A serve came from the enemy team, so obviously out of bounds that it wasn't questionable.

"Dai! What are you doing?!" A girl from the audience shouted. The boy went red in the face in response.

"Ah, sorry! Hands are sweaty, slipped."

"Get your head out your ass! Game's nearly over!"

"Gotcha'."

He had an interesting expression to say the least. I suppose he wasn't expecting this match to go quite so long, still such awful excuses. They aren't even trying to hide it.

The same trend continued, they let a point slip by to prolong the match whilst easily taking the next point back with superior teamwork and athleticism. Eventually it was my turn to serve. I appreciate the effort put into this. But I don't mind ending this now. More than anything it might be fun to see the sweat appear on Kamoshida's face...

Instead of going for the same underarm punt I had all evening, I opted for the same form as a particular gold medallist I had the opportunity to watch this entire match. I ran through the visions in my mind, like rewinding a tape for the playback. How was his arm angled? When did he jump? How high did he throw the ball? Where did he look? How far forward did he jump?

Countless questions and the complementary answers filtered through my mind rapidly as the pieces of a larger puzzle was built. I'd assign that form of his to my own body, my own mechanics. I'd take it for my own.

A deep breath released from my lungs like a steam engine expunging its heat. The ball gently risen into the air a distance away. My body primed, accelerated rapidly to the perfect destination. Gradually my legs and core tensed preparing for take-off. Like an arrow I flew to the ball, as if we were conjoined, almost inseparable. I felt as if the ball itself were a part of my own body, that's the level of control I experienced. As if I could mindlessly manipulate it like an appendage.

If you want to prolong this match, then I agree... But I'll do it my way.

My palm approached the suspended ball as I searched for the target of my assault. Only two points for the set... I could clean this set, then there will be infinite opportunities to fight Kamoshida! Aim for the middle, right between all of them. The expressions they show might be interesting...

...What am I doing?

Winning the match means nothing. No there is only one thing that has meaning here. And I was going to ignore it a second time. Forget procrastination, no delays. I'll simply take the fight I want desperately. Thinking as such my aim diverted to the only location I could agree with.

The ball torpedoed into the enemy court right to the very edge of their boundaries just beside Kamoshida. There it impacted the floor after flying past the shocked coach.

"...Was that in?"

"Jeez, that was fast!"

"...Am I crazy? That was like watching one of Kamoshida's serves..."

"I-It was just on the line." The club member acting as line judge nervously said.

"Point, next point to win this set to the away team."

All the while the only character in my eyes was the same person the ball blitzed by just a moment ago. Kamoshida. Your guard was down. The same mistake a second time. I pray there isn't a third. I don't want my worth to be tarnished by poor performance, there should be no stipulation, no hypothesis. I must know without exception...

That even on this stage, I stand above.

There would be no running, once again. The same serve to the same area. If you fail another time that is all this challenge has proven to be... And I will deem my previous aspirations as the path forwards forevermore. If nothing else, this gave a passing enjoyment.

Throwing the ball, I accelerate with even greater fervour. The speed adding to greater momentum and therefore power, I'll hit it with everything. Once again, the projectile rushed towards the now wary teacher. He quickly dropped his centre of gravity and hunkered down, calculating the exact point where it would hit the floor and intercepting the path. The spin and power however, prevented proper recourse of the object to the setters, they were unsettled. That gave us a chance. The ball hovered over the shadow the net cast. Both frontline middle blockers jumped at the ball. Ishida's strength didn't match the larger frames of the frontline of the opposition. Their advantage again. It's his turn.

"That serve again..."

"Yeah, he's got some serious power, no way it can match Kamoshida's serves though..."

"...I dunno, I guess we're about to see."

I could hear the murmurs; they wanted a refresher. To see if I actually managed to recreate the serve of a professional, someone with years of experience and notable accomplishments. A figure who had attained the highest heights possible in his chosen sport. It won't matter. Time and recency bias will wash the memory from their minds. They'll convince themselves of it, especially if the results of his serve are much better. Which they will be if he aims literally anywhere other than me.

A deep breath exhaled from the target, deep enough to drown out the silence in the court. His body flourished as he threw the ball, only to follow it a moment after. His body vaulted, arm raised as if to entrap the attention of the audience, ready to hammer into the ball. Waving the metaphorical gavel that would bring judgement onto the court. The only question is what verdict the judge will give...

I waited almost endlessly for a serve that never approached me...

Needless to say, we lost the match...

Was he right? Even now I question it...

Word count: 3699

Thanks for reading. Hope you've all been enjoying the story so far. Let me know what you think and comment any questions. As stated, before I likely won't go into spoiler territory, but I appreciate the engagement.

I will have to apologise for the lack of updates and the story so far. I got into the match thinking it was an interesting and kinda needed part of the story. But when actually trying to make the play-by-play felt that everything was rather boring, or I had to overexplain certain actions just to find something to write about. So yeah, apologies for that.

On the bright side I have some ideas going ahead and have a bit better of an idea how to go about it, compared to whatever this saga was...

Until next time.