Suddenly the creak of the gym doors echoed again. The steady rhythm of sneakers, the low hum of voices—it all came to a sudden stop.
A figure stepped inside, the fading sunlight from the hallway framing his silhouette. His steps were slow, hesitant, but purposeful. The sound of his sneakers against the polished floor rang louder than it should have in the sudden silence.
Yukio's eyes widened. His voice slipped out before he realized it.
"...Jirou Suzuki."
Nanaho's breath caught. She straightened, clipboard pressed tighter against her chest, brows furrowing. What is he doing here?
Takahiro froze mid-stretch, while Hayato's jaw slackened, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. Both seniors stiffened, the weight of memory pressing hard on their shoulders.
Liam, oblivious, leaned close to Hayato. "Uh… who's that guy?"
Hayato didn't answer immediately. His voice, when it finally came, was low. "Someone who shouldn't be here, that's for damn sure."
Across the court, Tetsuo's gaze followed Jirou, calm but unyielding. His face betrayed nothing, yet his stare locked with Jirou's—silent, sharp, almost suffocating.
Jirou's eyes flickered for only a second before meeting the stare, refusing to look away.
At the edge of the court, Tomoe turned at the sound of Yukio's voice. Her eyes landed on the newcomer—her breath stopped. The mop slipped from her trembling hands and hit the floor with a dull slap. Her body trembled, sweat mixing with the streaks of dust and polish she had been wiping.
"No…" The word barely escaped her lips, trembling as much as her hands. "How… how are you here?"
Her vision blurred as the memory ripped through her, vivid and merciless—
The locker room was dim, quiet, only the faint hum of the old air conditioner filling the silence. Jirou's shadow had blocked the light from the door, his voice calm but wrong.
"Take off your clothes."
Tomoe blinked at him, unsure if she'd heard right. "Wait… what did you just say?"
He didn't repeat himself. He just stared—expressionless, cold.
"I… I don't like being made to feel like I don't matter," he said, voice flat, void of warmth. "You made me wait. That means you owe me something."
"Jirou… this isn't funny. You're scaring me."
"You should be scared."
Her pulse raced. "I feel really uncomfortable. I don't know what happened to you, but you're scaring me. I'll just leave—"
She turned, but his hand clamped around her wrist. The next moment, her body hit the floor hard. His fist cracked against her face. Pain, shock, and helplessness flooded her all at once as he tore at her shirt, her voice choking in her throat—
The memory shattered with the present. Tomoe staggered back, her entire body trembling. Instinct took over—her hands clutched the back of Tetsuo's sweaty practice shirt, hiding behind him.
Tetsuo's body shifted ever so slightly, acknowledging her grip. He didn't speak, but he felt her shaking against him, her fear soaking into the fabric. His eyes never left Jirou.
Jirou, for his part, noticed the gesture. But his lips curved into a smile, one that only made the silence heavier.
"Long time no see, everyone."
The weight of his voice lingered in the air.
Tadao smirked, breaking the silence with a scoff. "Yo. Looks like Jirou finally showed up. Guess that makes us ten members now."
Noboru leaned back with a sneer. "Well, though he'll be benched, the team could always use a few more cheerleaders."
Shino's eyes widened. "You're not saying I'm a cheerleader too, right?"
"Of course you are," Noboru shot back instantly.
"Which makes you one as well," Makoto replied without missing a beat, his tone sharp as ever.
"What was that?!" Noboru snapped, face heating.
Makoto didn't answer—his eyes were fixed on Jirou instead. I don't know the details, not like the seniors do, but I feel it. The air is heavier, tense. And Tomoe… the way her hands clutched Tetsuo's shirt, trembling—that says more than words.
Jirou exhaled slowly, as though rehearsed. His voice softened, carrying regret.
"I know what you're all thinking. What I did… what happened… it was unforgivable. And I'm not here to make excuses. The truth is, my father… he had connections. Because of him, I didn't serve time. I walked away when I shouldn't have."
His eyes flickered toward Tomoe—she shrank tighter behind Tetsuo.
Jirou's shoulders slumped, and he sank to one knee, bowing deeply before Tomoe. His voice shook, barely above a whisper.
"I'm sorry, Tomoe. I swear, I'll never lay a hand on you again." He kept his head low, unable to meet her eyes. "I know I hurt you, I know I assaulted you, and nothing can erase that. But I'll atone. If you don't want me near you, I'll stay away."
He lifted his gaze slightly, his hands clenched at his sides, trembling. "Still… if I can at least help you guys reach the Interhigh, even if it's only a little, then it would be worth it. I know it won't ever cover all the pain and trouble I caused you, but… please, forgive me."
He bowed again, forehead nearly touching the floor, as if trying to make his apology physically tangible.
The words hung in the air.
Then—
A fist cracked across his jaw.
Jirou's head snapped to the side, his body staggering before he hit the floor with a thud. The sound echoed across the gym, sneakers squeaking as everyone instinctively stepped back.
Tadao stood above him, fists clenched, shoulders heaving. His face twisted with rage as he grabbed Jirou by the collar and yanked him up into the air with raw strength.
"You bastard!" Tadao's voice boomed, filled with fury. "How dare you force yourself on her!"
Jirou barely got a word out before Tadao's grip tightened, shaking him.
"Enough!" Yukio lunged forward, grabbing Tadao's arm.
"Let me go! I'm going to beat this bastard to death!"
"Calm down!" Liam rushed in on the other side, using his massive frame to hold Tadao back. The three struggled, sneakers screeching against the polished floor as Tadao thrashed, still trying to throw another punch.
"Move! Move, damn it!" Tadao roared, spit flying from his lips. His rage was unrelenting.
"Hoshiguma, stop!"
Tomoe's voice, sharp and trembling, cut through the chaos. She stepped forward, her face pale, hands trembling but outstretched. "Please—stop!"
The words froze Tadao mid-struggle. His grip loosened just enough for Yukio and Liam to pull Jirou free. The gym went silent again, the sound of Tomoe's ragged breathing louder than anything else.
"Tomoe… is it okay for me to join the team?"
Tadao's chest heaved, veins straining in his neck as his glare pinned Jirou to the spot. What the hell did you just say?
He lunged forward, but Yukio's hand shot out across his chest, holding him back. His voice tore through the gym, raw and sharp enough to make the walls tremble.
"How dare this bastard even think about joining the team after what he did to her!"
Jirou wiped the blood at the corner of his mouth, eyes lowered, silent.
"Tadao, calm down!" Hayato stepped closer, voice raised but firm, trying to cut through the storm of anger. "Getting suspended for beating him up won't help anyone!"
"Shut up! You don't get it!" Tadao barked, struggling harder, sneakers squealing against the hardwood as Yukio and Liam fought to hold him steady.
Finally, Nanaho stepped forward, clipboard pressed tightly against her side. Her gaze, usually precise and measured, now carried an unyielding steel. "Enough."
Her eyes swept across the team before stopping on Jirou. "As much as I don't want him here… after what he put her through…" She paused, letting the weight of her words hang in the air. "…this isn't my decision. It's Tomoe's."
All eyes turned toward her. Tomoe froze, hands clutching the front of her shirt where she had held onto Tetsuo. Her face was pale, lips trembling. The mop lay abandoned, water slowly pooling on the floor behind her.
"Tomoe," Nanaho said softly, stepping closer. "It's your call. Do you want him here?"
Silence fell, thick and heavy, broken only by the faint buzz of the gym lights and the thudding of hearts.
Tomoe's hands pressed against her skirt, trembling as if even standing there drained everything from her. Her throat worked as she forced out words. Her body shook, but her eyes flickered up to Jirou. She flinched—but spoke.
"If… keeping him here gives this team a chance to go to the Interhigh…" she paused, her eyes falling to the floor, "…then it's a burden I'll carry."
Her words hit the gym like stones, settling in the tension.
Tadao's head snapped toward her, eyes blazing. "What?!" His voice cracked under the weight of his fury. "You're seriously giving this bastard a chance? After what he did to you?!"
Tomoe's hands trembled violently, but she forced herself to continue, voice barely audible. "I don't forgive him. I'll never forgive him. But… if keeping him here keeps him from hurting someone else… then… I'll endure it."
The gym seemed to shrink, the weight of her decision pressing down on everyone.
Nanaho closed her eyes for a second, then exhaled, her grip tightening around the clipboard. "There you have it. Tomoe has spoken." She opened her eyes, sharp again, fixing Jirou with a cold stare. "You step out of line—once—and you're done. No excuses."
"I'll keep my promise and keep my distance from her," Jirou said quietly, voice steady. "Thank you… for allowing me to join."
Tadao ripped himself free from Yukio and Liam's grip, storming forward a step before Yukio's hand shot out across his chest, holding him back. His fists clenched so tight his knuckles whitened.
"Let go of me, Captain!" he roared, voice booming. "I won't be playing on the same team with this scum! He doesn't deserve to wear our jersey!" With a sharp glare, Tadao stormed off.
Nanaho blew her whistle sharply. "Everyone, that's enough for today. Head to the locker room."
The players slowly began to disperse, their chatter a mix of confusion and unease.
"Um… what the heck just happened?" Noboru muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly confused.
"I… I didn't know Suzuki was that type of person… so all this time… Tomoe…" Shino trailed off, voice barely above a whisper, eyes downcast.
Makoto lingered near the court, his arms crossed, eyes narrowing as he muttered to himself. "So this is the reason why he said he had conflict with our team the other day when we first met him. For some reason, I'm not surprised. What surprises me is the fact that he wants to join the team after what he did… What motives could he possibly have?"
The gym grew quiet as the players exited, leaving only the faint echo of sneakers and the distant drip of the mop, the tension lingering in the air.