Chapter 10: Ohgiminami's Lazer
The scoreboard flashed like a laser beam cutting through darkness.
50 - 0
Ohgiminami's court didn't thrum with life.
It didn't roar with dominance.
It didn't breathe with tension.
It shattered expectations.
At the center of that stillness,
she moved.
Akira Kunimi's older sister.
No fanfare. No dramatic presence.
Just… precision.
Fans had given her a name.
Something simple.
Something that felt like it had already happened before you saw it.
"Ohgiminami's Lazer."
And it fit.
Because the moment her arms swung, her legs shifted, or her fingers flicked, it didn't just go.
It pierced.
It cut.
It destroyed the space between possibility and reality.
A spike came barreling toward her.
It was fast. Sharp. Clean.
She didn't flinch.
She didn't jump prematurely.
She didn't even move before she needed to.
Then,
whip.
Her hands met the ball.
A fraction of a second.
And the ball exploded off her fingertips like light slicing through the darkness.
The hitter froze.
The ball had changed direction, no, changed intention.
It was no longer an attack.
It was a statement.
Point.
Another whistle.
Another ball.
Another destruction of expectation.
50 - 0.
She lowered her arms, calm as the air around her seemed to vibrate with residual energy.
Across the court, Akira Kunimi watched, mouth slightly open.
"…She's… insane."
Because she was.
Not in the way of sheer power, or unstoppable force.
But in precision.
In certainty.
In the kind of control that made you feel like the ball had no choice but to obey her.
Flashback.
"You can't just hit hard."
Young Kunimi frowned, gripping a volleyball.
"I have to! It's the only way to score!"
She shook her head, calm.
"No. Speed without direction is wasted energy. Force without focus is noise."
"…Then what am I supposed to do?"
Her gaze sharpened.
"Learn to pierce. To strike where it matters. Not where they're weak, but where you decide it matters."
A spike came.
He swung.
The ball met her forearm.
It flew not to the floor, but somewhere else entirely.
"…What the hell was that?" he demanded.
She smiled faintly.
"That? That was a lesson."
And that was the beginning.
Every day after, she became both teacher and judge.
Fast balls.
Slow balls.
Spinning, slicing, unpredictable balls.
"Too slow."
"Not precise enough."
"Again."
And if he failed?
"…Again."
It wasn't cruelty.
It wasn't punishment.
It was refinement.
Sharpening a blade until it could cut through anything.
Back to the present.
The court seemed smaller.
The opponents seemed slower.
The ball itself seemed… wrong to touch anyone else but her.
She moved.
A fraction of a step.
A tilt of the wrist.
The ball was gone, flying past the block, into open air, into impossible angles.
Silence.
Confusion.
Shock.
Fear.
It didn't matter.
She was already on the next ball.
Already on the next attack.
Already controlling the space around her.
50 - 0.
Her teammates didn't cheer.
They didn't need to.
They moved as extensions of her rhythm.
Because with her, it wasn't about coordination.
It was about inevitability.
Another ball came, angled sharply, fast enough to draw a gasp.
Her fingers met it for barely a heartbeat.
Then, laser.
The ball sped off like a bullet, cutting through the air, scoring where no one could touch it.
The opposing setter froze.
"…What…?"
Her eyes didn't leave the ball.
Her mind was already three plays ahead.
Her body, pure precision.
Her presence, absolute certainty.
Akira Kunimi exhaled.
"…She's not just strong. She's a weapon."
And she was.
Not by size, or strength, or relentless power.
But by focus.
By clarity.
By the ability to turn intention into action with absolute accuracy.
The scoreboard blinked one last time.
50 - 0
She lowered her arms slowly.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
"Another perfect game," someone whispered.
Her response was a small nod.
"…It was necessary."
Because for her, mastery wasn't about dominating.
It was about eliminating uncertainty.
About making every ball, every play, every moment… decisive.
And somewhere, in the quiet spaces between plays, a fragment stirred.
Watching.
Measuring.
Recognizing.
Drawn not to chaos, not to power, but to precision.
And for now…
That was enough.
The Mermaid.
The Lazer.
The Fairy.
The Saintess.
The Empress.
The Ishtar.
The Immortal.
Each a force.
Each a teacher.
Each shaping the next generation.
And she?
She was the Lazer.
Unforgiving.
Inescapable.
Perfect.
The next ball flew.
She was already there.
And the game, already over, continued.