The Skyrise Letter

Chapter 2: The Skyrise Letter

The tryout location was ridiculous. Like, actually ridiculous.

"Is that... a mountain?" Toru squinted up at the massive peak looming ahead. His dad's car seemed tiny against the landscape.

"That's Skyrise Mountain," his dad said proudly, as if he'd built it himself. "The academy sits at the summit. Better air pressure for training or something."

Better air pressure for training? That's not even scientifically accurate. Low oxygen maybe, but pressure? Weird volleyball science is weird.

The road wound upward at an angle that made Toru's stomach lurch. Signs marked the elevation: 1000m, 1500m, 2000m. Who builds a school this high up? The same people who think volleyball players should have superpowers, apparently.

A security gate blocked their path. A guard in a sleek silver uniform checked his name against a tablet.

"Toru Nakamura. Dimensional Aptitude Level 7.3. Proceed to Parking Area C."

Level 7.3? Out of what? Is that good? Bad? Medium? Why doesn't the afterlife come with a user manual?

His dad beamed. "7.3! That's my boy!"

Even my dad understands this bizarre scoring system. This timeline is so weird.

The facility that came into view looked nothing like a school. It was a gleaming complex of glass domes and angular buildings that seemed to grow right out of the mountainside. The main structure resembled a volleyball itself - hexagonal panels creating a perfect sphere.

"Well," his dad said, pulling into a parking space, "this is it."

"This is it," Toru echoed. "No pressure. Just the most elite volleyball academy in a timeline where volleyball players shoot lightning from their fingers. Totally normal Tuesday."

His dad laughed. "You'll be fine. They wouldn't have invited you if they didn't see something special."

That's the problem. There's nothing special about me. Not in this body. Not yet.

"Registration is through there," his dad pointed to a glass pavilion where teens and parents were gathering. "Want me to come with you?"

"I got it." Toru grabbed his gym bag. "Wish me luck."

"You don't need luck," his dad said with absolute certainty. "You have potential."

If only you knew, Dad. If only you knew.

---

The registration area was packed with teenagers who all seemed to share the same intense look - part hunger, part confidence, part barely contained energy. Everyone here wanted the same thing: one of the fifty spots in next year's freshman class at Skyrise.

Toru joined a line beneath a sign reading "Invitational Candidates."

A boy behind him whistled. "Invitational, huh? What's your DA score?"

"My what?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "Dimensional Aptitude. The whole reason we're here?"

"Oh. Uh, 7.3, I think."

The boy's eyes widened. "Seriously? That's almost Natural level. Are you already manifesting?"

I'm manifesting confusion, does that count?

"Not yet," Toru said carefully.

"Nakamura!" called a woman at the registration desk, saving him from further questions.

He approached the desk where a stern-faced woman with silver-streaked hair handed him a packet.

"Toru Nakamura. DA 7.3. Potential setter. Change in Dome Three, physical assessment in Dome Two, Zone compatibility testing in Lab Six." She barely looked at him. "Next!"

Toru clutched his packet and moved aside, examining the contents. A map, a schedule, and a strange silver wristband with a small screen. As he slipped it on, the screen lit up: NAKAMURA, T. - 7.3 - UNTAPPED.

Untapped. Like I'm a keg of beer. Or an oil reserve. Super normal.

He followed the map to Dome Three, a massive half-sphere with volleyball courts stretching in every direction. Boys his age were already warming up, some chatting, others intimidatingly silent.

In the locker room, Toru changed into the provided gear - silver shorts and a black compression shirt with sensors embedded throughout the fabric. The material felt strange - slightly heavier than normal athletic wear, with a faint hum of energy.

"These clothes are reading our biometrics," a tall boy beside him explained, noticing Toru's confusion. "Heart rate, muscle engagement, nerve responses. They're looking for Zone triggers."

Zone triggers. Because in this world, volleyball isn't just a sport. It's supernatural.

"What exactly is The Zone?" Toru asked, figuring feigned ignorance was safer than revealing actual ignorance.

The boy looked at him like he'd asked what a ball was.

"You got invited with a 7.3 and don't know about The Zone? Where have you been, living under a rock?"

"Just testing you," Toru recovered lamely.

"Right," the boy said, unconvinced. "Well, see for yourself. Court Four has some second-years demonstrating."

Toru finished changing and followed the crowd to Court Four, where a small audience had gathered. On the court, four boys who looked about 16 were warming up. Nothing unusual at first - just stretches and light passing.

Then one boy served.

The ball left his hand, and for a split second, flames seemed to dance around it. The ball cut through the air with a visible ripple, like it was tearing space itself, moving so fast Toru could barely track it.

On the other side, a receiver got into position. His eyes glowed faintly blue. He moved before the ball even crossed the net, positioning himself perfectly for a receive that should have broken his arms. Instead, a blue aura cushioned the impact, absorbing the impossible speed.

The receiver's pass went up to a setter, whose fingers lit up with crackling energy. When he touched the ball, it paused mid-air - literally stopped for a full second - before shooting precisely to the spiker.

The spiker jumped. And jumped. And kept rising.

That's not jumping. That's flying.

The boy hung in the air for what seemed like five seconds, suspended as if gravity had decided to take a coffee break. Then he spiked with such force that the ball disappeared momentarily before reappearing as it hit the floor, leaving a small scorch mark.

The watching first-years erupted in gasps and exclamations. Toru just stared.

I died and woke up in volleyball anime. That's the only explanation.

A whistle blew, cutting through the chatter.

"Invitational candidates to Court One! Regular applicants to Courts Five through Eight!"

Toru moved with the crowd, still processing what he'd seen. Twenty boys gathered on Court One, all wearing the same sensor-laden gear, all with wristbands displaying their DA scores. Toru glanced around. Most showed numbers between 5.0 and 6.5. Only two others had scores above 7.

A man approached, tall and broad-shouldered with sharp features and calculating eyes. His tracksuit bore the Skyrise emblem and the name "COACH TANAKA."

"Welcome to Selection Day," he announced without preamble. "I am Ryuji Tanaka, head coach and director of student development. Half of you won't make it past today. The other half will have eight weeks to prove you deserve one of the twenty invitational spots in next year's class."

He paced slowly, studying each candidate.

"Skyrise isn't like other volleyball schools. We don't just train skills. We develop potential. Zone potential."

He stopped in front of a nervous-looking boy.

"Yamada. DA 5.2. Show us your serve."

The boy grabbed a ball and moved to the service line. His serve was solid - good form, decent power. Nothing special.

Coach Tanaka nodded without comment and moved on.

"Ichikawa. DA 6.8. Your spike approach."

A taller boy demonstrated a textbook spike approach with excellent vertical jump.

Coach Tanaka continued around the circle, calling for specific skills from each candidate. When he reached Toru, he paused, looking at the wristband.

"Nakamura. DA 7.3. Setter's instinct test."

Setter's instinct? What does that even mean?

An assistant tossed six balls rapid-fire from different angles. The task was clear: set each one properly.

Toru's brain knew exactly what to do. His body, unfortunately, had other ideas.

The first set was too high. The second too close to the net. The third wasn't terrible. The fourth wobbled badly. The fifth was actually decent. The sixth slipped through his fingers entirely.

Coach Tanaka's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. Disappointment.

Great. I've been here twenty minutes and already crushed someone's expectations. New timeline, same Toru.

"Interesting," was all Coach Tanaka said before moving on.

The assessments continued for an hour. Basic skills. Physical measurements. Reaction time tests. Toru performed... adequately. Not terribly, but nowhere near his future potential. Nowhere near what a DA 7.3 should apparently be capable of.

After skills assessment came a water break, then the announcement:

"Zone compatibility testing will begin in Lab Six. Proceed there immediately."

The lab was nothing like Toru expected. Instead of a sterile medical facility, it was a volleyball court surrounded by sensors, cameras, and strange equipment that hummed with energy. Scientists in silver lab coats monitored screens displaying data Toru couldn't begin to understand.

"What exactly happens here?" he whispered to a boy beside him.

"They test if you can enter The Zone. Or how close you can get."

A woman in a lab coat approached with a clipboard. "Nakamura? You're up."

She led him to the center of the court, where a circle was marked on the floor.

"Stand here. We'll monitor your dimensional resonance as you execute setups under increasing pressure."

Dimensional resonance. Sure. Because that's a normal thing to measure in volleyball tryouts.

The test began simply enough. Set balls tossed from a machine. Each set, the speed increased. Then multiple balls. Then balls with irregular trajectories. Then balls while blindfolded.

Throughout, sensors recorded... something. The scientists watched their screens intently, occasionally nodding or making notes.

"Fascinating," one murmured. "The pattern is unlike anything we've seen."

"Almost like temporal distortion rather than spatial," another replied.

"Final test," the woman announced. "Pressure scenario."

Without warning, the lights dimmed. A projection system activated, surrounding Toru with a virtual stadium filled with roaring fans. The ball machine fired one perfect toss.

Toru froze.

No. Not again. Not here.

The virtual crowd seemed to lean forward in anticipation. The ball approached its apex.

And suddenly, Toru was back in the national championship. Ten thousand eyes on him. The perfect toss. The moment everything went wrong.

Panic rose in his chest.

Then a strange thought cut through the fear:

But this already happened. I already failed. I already died. What's the worst that could happen now?

Somehow, that thought was freeing. The ball began to descend.

Toru moved.

His hands found the ball. Not perfectly - his technique was still that of a fourteen-year-old - but with absolute commitment. No hesitation.

As the ball left his fingers, something strange happened. For a split second, he thought he saw where the ball would go before it went there. Like a ghost image leading the real one.

The scientists burst into excited chatter.

"Did you see that?"

"Temporal precognition!"

"Quantum overlay!"

The woman approached, eyes wide. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You anticipated the ball's trajectory before it happened. That's not a Zone ability we've documented before."

Because I literally know what happens in the future? Because I've lived this before? Because I'm a dead kid in a weird volleyball afterlife?

"Just got lucky, I guess," Toru said weakly.

Coach Tanaka appeared, having watched from the observation area.

"Not luck," he said firmly. "Something else. Something... interesting."

He studied Toru with new intensity, then made a note on his tablet.

"You're an anomaly, Nakamura. Your physical skills are mediocre at best. Your technique needs significant work. But that... that was something I've never seen before."

Is that good? Bad? Am I getting in or getting therapy?

"Does that mean I passed?" Toru asked.

Coach Tanaka almost smiled. Almost.

"It means you're worth investigating further. Report to Dome Four tomorrow at 8 AM for phase two."

As Tanaka walked away, Toru heard him mutter to one of the scientists, "Temporal anomaly? Possible quantum echoing? Run a full spectral analysis on his readings."

Great. I'm a science experiment now. At least it's better than being "The Freeze" again.

In the locker room, the other boys compared notes.

"Did you feel anything?"

"I think my fingers tingled during the blind test."

"My DA spiked to 6.8 for like three seconds!"

Toru changed silently, trying to process everything. This world was insane. Volleyball with superpowers. Scientists studying dimensional resonance. Coaches looking for Zone potential.

And somehow, his weird time-travel/dimension-hop/afterlife experience was giving him an edge.

As he packed his bag, he noticed a boy watching him from across the room. Tall, with a confident stance and calculating eyes. His wristband read: MIZUKI, H. - 9.2 - MANIFESTED.

The boy - Mizuki - approached, his gaze intense.

"You're the temporal anomaly," he said quietly. "I felt it when you set that last ball. You've seen that exact moment before, haven't you?"

Toru's heart stopped.

"What do you mean?"

Mizuki leaned closer. "Your dimensional signature is fractured. Split between now and... somewhere else. Somewhen else."

He tapped his own temple. "I can see these things. Part of my Zone manifestation."

This guy can see that I'm from the future? That's a volleyball superpower? What kind of messed-up sports world did I land in?

"I don't know what you're talking about," Toru managed.

Mizuki smiled. "Yes, you do. And Tanaka knows it too. That's why you'll make it to phase three despite your pathetic physical performance."

He straightened up. "I'm Hayato Mizuki. Remember the name. We'll be seeing a lot of each other."

As Hayato walked away, Toru sat heavily on the bench.

So I'm in a volleyball school for superpowered players, my time travel is giving me some weird advantage, and the best player here can somehow sense I'm from a different timeline.

Death was simpler than this.

---

"How'd it go?" his dad asked as Toru climbed into the car.

Toru stared out at the gleaming facility on the mountainside.

"I think I passed. But I'm not entirely sure what I passed."

His dad laughed. "That's Skyrise for you. The Zone works in mysterious ways."

The Zone. Time travel. Quantum anomalies. Volleyball superpowers.

What have I gotten myself into?

"Dad," Toru asked carefully, "have you ever felt like you were living the wrong life? Like you should be someone else? Someone better?"

His dad considered this as he navigated the winding mountain road.

"Everyone feels that way sometimes, Toru. The trick is realizing there is no 'wrong' life. Just the one you're living now, and what you choose to do with it."

Deep, Dad. Except I literally AM living the wrong life. Or a second life. Or an alternate timeline life.

"But what if you get a second chance? What would you do differently?"

His dad smiled. "Is this about your Zone manifestation? The coaches said it might happen soon for high DA scores."

"Something like that."

"Well, second chances are rare. If you get one, don't waste it overthinking. Just be better than you were before."

Be better than you were before. Don't freeze under pressure. Don't die in a shower.

Simple enough.

The silver wristband on Toru's arm beeped softly. The display had changed:

NAKAMURA, T. - 7.3 - ANOMALOUS

Anomalous. Story of my life. I mean Lives. Whatever.

As the car descended the mountain, Toru made a decision. If this was his second chance - weird volleyball superpowers and all - he wouldn't waste it. He'd figure out this Zone thing. He'd master whatever strange abilities came with being a "temporal anomaly."

And this time, when the championship came, he wouldn't freeze.

This time, he'd be ready.

He glanced back at the mountain peak, gleaming in the afternoon sun.

Skyrise Academy. Here I come.

Whether the academy was ready for him - a time-traveling volleyball failure with knowledge of a future that might no longer exist - was another question entirely.