The Forced Pickup Team: Shiratorizawa's Baki Hanma and Another Form of the Demon King

The afternoon sun had heated the wooden floor of the civic gymnasium until it was almost hot to the touch. The air was thick with the scent of antiperspirant spray and the scorched rubber smell left by shoe soles scraping the floor—a scent unique to sports venues.

Lu Ren just wanted to go home and lie down.

The lactic acid from that compulsory morning run was still partying in his thigh muscles. With every step, those two muscles screamed in protest. He felt like a low-health character who had just cleared a max-level dungeon without having time to repair his gear, desperately needing to return to the Safe House called "home" for a long rest.

"Hey, look over there."

Kiyosawa Mashiba's voice drifted over from beside him. Before Lu Ren could react, a hand was already pointing toward a corner of the gymnasium.

A group of people there were practicing passes. Though they wore mismatched training clothes, their height and build made it obvious that they were not ordinary citizens here to work off a meal. The volleyball's trajectory between their hands was terrifyingly steady—no unnecessary spin, no erratic shifts in pace. It was a "program" etched into their Muscle Memory through tens of thousands of repetitions.

"No." Lu Ren answered decisively. "My Stamina bar is already in the red. If I practice any more, my durability will drop."

"This morning's run was only a warm-up quest. Today's daily quest still hasn't been completed." Mashiba somehow produced a bottle of sports drink and waved it before his eyes. "Besides, they happen to be short on people. The system practically delivered an opportunity to farm experience right to us."

"That's someone else's server. What business does an off-server player like me have joining their fun...?"

Before he could finish, Mashiba's hand was already on his back. The gesture looked gentle, but it concealed murderous intent. Lu Ren felt a spot on his lower back being precisely targeted. If he dared take even half a step back, he would trigger a "physical critical hit."

"Go on, Pikachu." Mashiba smiled sweetly and shoved him hard.

Lu Ren staggered several steps forward, and momentum forced him to stop in front of the group.

The people on the court halted and turned to look at him in unison.

The boy at the front was tall, with brown hair and a frivolous smile that made people want to punch him on sight. But the instant his gaze swept over Lu Ren, Lu Ren instinctively tensed.

It was the look of a high-level player assessing a low-level monster.

"Um... sorry to bother you." Lu Ren forced himself to speak, trying to end the conversation in the most pathetic tone possible. "It looked like you might be short on people..."

"Oh? Do you want to join us?" The brown-haired boy spun the volleyball in his hand, his tone as light as if he were flirting. "Perfect. There are four of us, but those uncles on the other side have five people. We were just wondering how to divide the teams."

Lu Ren looked around. Aside from the brown-haired guy, there was a buzz-cut guy whose arm muscles were as solid as rocks, along with two unfamiliar first-years—one with hair like a leek, and the other looking as though he had not woken up yet.

No matter how he looked at it, this was not some random pickup team.

"What school are you from?" the buzz-cut guy beside him asked. His voice was steady and powerful, carrying an unquestionable pressure.

Lu Ren's heart skipped a beat.

What if he said Karasuno, and this bunch happened to know Sawamura Daichi or that "Tyrant," Kageyama? That morning run had taught him that Karasuno would soon be having a practice match with some school called Aoba Johsai. If he exposed information beforehand, then his "secret weapon" status—self-proclaimed though it was—would lose all its mystery.

He had to lie. And it had to be a lie that would make them reluctant to underestimate him, while being impossible to verify immediately.

Lu Ren's brain raced as he pulled up the database on Miyagi Prefecture's volleyball powerhouses. In this dungeon, only the school known as the "Absolute King" could hold the field.

"Shiratorizawa." Lu Ren lied without changing expression. "First-year."

The four people across from him visibly froze. Even the sleepy-looking boy, who had kept his eyes half-lidded the entire time, raised his eyelids.

"Shiratorizawa..." The brown-haired boy's smile deepened, and his eyes gained a hint of amusement. "That's a prestigious school. But I haven't seen you on the regular roster?"

"I'm just an amateur. I didn't join the Volleyball Club; I just mess around on my own sometimes." Lu Ren continued refining his persona, going all-in on the mysterious hidden-master style. "I'm an opposite hitter."

"Your name?"

Lu Ren fell silent for two seconds.

Since he had already started making things up, he might as well see it through to the end. As long as I'm not embarrassed, everyone else will be.

"Baki Hanma."

The air froze for a second.

"Pfft—" The Leek Head boy nearly burst out laughing, but hurriedly covered his mouth after the buzz-cut guy shot him a glare.

The brown-haired boy—Aoba Johsai's captain, Oikawa Tōru—had the curve of his lips stiffen for a moment, but he quickly recovered. He probably had not expected someone to swagger around with the name of a fighting manga protagonist.

"Good name. Very... impactful." Oikawa Tōru even clapped twice. "Then, Hanma, since you're a Shiratorizawa expert, come help us make up the numbers. I'm Oikawa Tōru, this is Iwaizumi Hajime, and those two first-years are Kindaichi and Kunimi."