That night, Lu Ren was dragged home.
Literally dragged. If they hadn't still been out on the street, Kiyosawa Mashiba would probably have grabbed him by the ankles and hauled him home like a sack of potatoes. Even so, Lu Ren, the "winning side's" MVP, was in no better shape than a salted fish. The only difference was that salted fish didn't grunt like a slaughtered pig with every step.
Dinner was braised pork, specially prepared by Comrade Lu Jianguo, and there was enough to feed a Siberian brown bear. Lu Ren sat at the table, mechanically working his chopsticks as he shoveled high-calorie protein and fat into his stomach. The system said his stamina was slowly recovering, but that bone-deep exhaustion—what was supposedly called "Stiff Animation"—still stubbornly lingered on his status bar.
After dinner, the torture session began right on schedule.
Lu Ren lay facedown on the bed, his face buried in the pillow, and let out a muffled groan.
"Easy... Sis, are you trying to take my spine apart and play with it like building blocks?"
Kiyosawa Mashiba knelt beside him, her elbow mercilessly grinding into his erector spinae. She had far more strength than any high school girl ought to; she was more like a Michelin-starred chef tenderizing beef.
"Shut up. If you don't work out the lactic acid, you'll have to crawl to school tomorrow." Mashiba's voice came from above, accompanied by a sharp crack of a joint. "Bear with it."
"Argh—!!"
Lu Ren screamed. This wasn't a massage. It was torture for prisoners of war.
Half an hour later, the "repairs" were over.
Lu Ren felt like a Gundam model that had been taken apart and put back together. All the pieces were still there, but the joints felt loose enough to fall apart at any moment. He sprawled on the bed like a puddle of mud, too exhausted to lift even a finger.
Mashiba wiped the sweat from her forehead, deftly pulled a disc from the bookshelf, and put it into the DVD player. Then, instead of leaving, she sat cross-legged on the rug beside the bed and leaned back against its edge.
The TV screen lit up, and the classic black-and-white opening credits flashed by.
Ghost.
"The reason classics are classics is that they're worth watching over and over." Mashiba kept her eyes on the screen. "Besides, this is the newly purchased Blu-ray Remastered Edition."
The room fell quiet. Only the movie's background music and their soft breathing could be heard.
Lu Ren stared at the ceiling, his gaze unfocused. His body was resting, but his mind was still full of images from the match: the feel of the volleyball striking his arms, the shrill squeak of shoes against the floor, and Kageyama Tobio's eyes, as if he wanted to devour someone.
That feeling... wasn't unpleasant.
He could even say it had made him feel, for the first time in a long while, that he was truly "alive."
On the screen, the classic pottery scene began. The male lead embraced the female lead from behind, their hands overlapping as the clay spun and took shape beneath their fingertips. The scene was unbearably romantic, and the background music, "Unchained Melody," came in right on cue.
"How does it feel?" Mashiba suddenly asked.
Lu Ren froze. His gaze shifted from the ceiling to the back of Mashiba's head.
"How does what feel? The movie? The picture's definitely clearer than the VCD. You can even see the wrinkles on Sam's face..."
"You know that's not what I'm asking."
Mashiba cut him off. She turned her head, resting her chin on the edge of the bed. Her eyes gleamed in the dim light.
"I mean volleyball. Or the feeling of giving it everything you've got."
Lu Ren fell silent. He wanted to make some lame excuse to brush her off, like, "It's too tiring. I'd rather play video games," or, "It's too sweaty. Doesn't suit my aesthetic." But when he met Mashiba's eyes, the words died on his lips.
"It was all right." Lu Ren rolled over, avoiding her gaze. "Just an ordinary Side Quest. The enemies were a little tough, but the Experience Points were decent."
"Lu Ren."
Mashiba said his name. Her tone wasn't teasing, as it usually was, but unusually serious.
"I've known you since kindergarten. You act like a carefree joker, going on about 'games' and 'walkthroughs' all day, like you don't care about anything..."
She paused, then reached out and gently poked his arm where it stuck out from under the blanket.
"But you're a pessimist, aren't you?"
Lu Ren's body stiffened for a moment.
"All those games, manga, and novels aren't just entertainment to you." Mashiba's voice was soft, but like a scalpel, it cut right through the thick armor Lu Ren had built around himself. "They're your refuge. You treat the real world like a game, slap labels on everyone, and turn hardships into dungeons, because that's the only way you can convince yourself to keep living in this world."
Lu Ren said nothing. The light from the TV flickered across his face, brightening and darkening it in turn.
"What are you running from?" Mashiba asked. "What is it that makes you, even after winning a match, even after laughing so happily, still have that look deep in your eyes... like you're ready to run away at any moment?"
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