Jun continued down the path, his steps measured and steady as he followed the exterior walkways of the hospital grounds.
Gravel shifted softly beneath his soles with each step.
He passed the main gates, where cars moved in and out without pause, engines humming as they slowed and pulled away.
He circled the glass-walled cafeteria, his gaze lifting briefly to the figures inside—patients seated close together, hands moving as trays were passed and cups lifted.
Their voices did not reach him, sealed behind the glass.
Jun lowered his eyes and kept walking, his shoulders settling as the distance between himself and them remained unchanged.
He continued past the maintenance wing, where the air carried the sharp bite of exhaust mixed with the sting of cleaning solvents.
The buildings here were plain and functional, paint dulled by time, with no visitors lingering nearby.
Jun slowed his pace, his gaze drifting across the empty stretch of pavement and equipment left neatly against the walls.
He did not know what he was searching for.
He only knew he could not return to the quiet of his room or endure the nurses' lingering looks yet.
His steps grew slower, and he remained there a little longer, eyes moving over his surroundings, alone.
I should go back now…
The air brushed against his face as he exhaled, shoulders lowering with the breath.
Beyond the fence, cars continued to pass, their movement steady and uninterrupted.
Somewhere farther off, voices rose and fell.
He remained where he was, fingers loosening at his sides.
Walking out here alone made me realize something.
Time has been moving for everyone else.
For me… it feels like it stopped.
The thought sat heavily in his chest as he began to turn.
A sound broke through it.
A dull thud reached him first, soft but distinct.
A moment later, metal clanked against something solid, the noise carrying briefly before fading as it struck a nearby wall.
Jun stopped mid-step, his body stiffening as his head turned toward the sound.
It was not loud, but it did not belong to the quiet around him.
What was that…
Jun followed the direction of the sound, his steps careful as he moved onto a narrow concrete path split with long cracks.
The surface felt uneven beneath his feet as he walked, small bits of gravel shifting along the edges.
The path opened into a small concrete space.
Faded court lines stretched across the ground, their paint worn thin, and a rusted basketball hoop stood at one end.
A high chain-link fence enclosed the area, its metal links dull and unmoving.
The space was empty and still, with only one person within it.
Jun's gaze lifted, his breath catching slightly as his eyes opened wider.
The girl had blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, secured with a green ribbon that rested against her neck.
She wore a light green hospital gown made up of loose pants, a shirt, and a thin cardigan that hung open at the front.
His attention fixed on the wheelchair beneath her, its metal frame still, the wheels angled toward the court.
Her wrist snapped forward.
The basketball left her hand, her arm remaining raised, fingers extended as she held the motion.
Her green eyes glistened.
The ball struck the rim with a hollow clank and fell on the concrete with a thud before bouncing once and rolling away.
Her shoulders tightened.
She drew her hands up to her face, pressing her palms against her eyes as her breathing broke unevenly, her body trembling as quiet sobs followed.
She's crying…
Jun's foot shifted back against the concrete, the sole scraping softly as he put distance between them.
His shoulders eased down, and his hands hung still at his sides.
I should give her some space…
The girl lifted her head suddenly and noticed Jun nearby, his body already shifting as he tried to step back.
Her eyes widened, breath catching for a moment.
Heat lingered on her cheeks, the skin still flushed.
She quickly dragged the back of her hand across her eyes, wiping away the moisture.
Her shoulders straightened as she drew in a shallow breath, and she pulled her lips into a small, stiff smile that didn't quite settle.
"Hey… you!!"
She lifted her hand, fingers curved around her mouth as her voice carried across the court.
Jun halted, his foot settling flat against the concrete.
He turned back slowly, shoulders tense as he faced her.
One of her hands moved away from her lap, palm lifting as she motioned for him to come closer.
Just great…
Jun let out a quiet breath, his shoulders lowering a fraction as the air left his chest.
His feet moved again, slow and deliberate against the concrete as he closed the distance between them, his gaze kept low while he approached.
"You… you didn't see all of that, did you?"
A short, uneven breath slipped out as her lips curved into an awkward smile.
Both of her hands tightened in her lap, fingers pressing into the fabric as her gaze stayed on Jun.
"Yes… sorry. I didn't mean to watch."
Jun's voice was low and even, his hand slid to the back of his neck, fingers pressing briefly as his chin angled to the side.
His shoulders pulled in, his stance shifting as he kept his eyes off her.
"Oh no… how embarrassing."
A light chuckle slipped out as one finger rested against her cheek, her shoulders lifting slightly.
"I've been using this area for months now. No one ever wandered back here."
Her hand lowered to her lap, fingers pressing together as her gaze drifted toward the empty court.
"So it became my safe space…"
Her eyes returned to Jun, the corners of her mouth lifting again.
"And then you went ahead and ruined it."
"I just came here for a walk… to clear my head."
Jun's shoulders eased as the words left him.
"It's okay. I'm only teasing you."
Her smile softened as she lifted one hand, waving it lightly through the air.
The motion was loose and unhurried, her shoulders settling as the tension left them.
Jun did not reply.
He remained still for a moment, his gaze resting on her face before drifting to the court.
He stepped away, his scuffs scraping lightly against the concrete as he crossed the faded lines.
He bent at the waist, fingers closing around the basketball where it had rolled to a stop.
Straightening, he turned back and walked toward her, the ball held loosely at his side as he approached.
He then offered it to her.
"Thank you for that… but…"
She accepted the ball, her fingers settling against its surface as she drew it back toward her lap.
Her head tilted slightly, green eyes lifting to his face.
"What's with that blank stare?"
Her brows pulled together just a little, curiosity edging into her expression as she waited for his response.
"Oh… is my face that bad?"
Jun's hand lifted, fingertips brushing along his cheek as if checking it.
"No… silly."
A small laugh slipped out as she lifted her hand, covering her mouth.
Her shoulders moved lightly with it, the sound soft and brief.
"You're… an interesting one. That's for sure."
Her hand lowered, fingers settling against the edge of her cardigan as she straightened slightly in her chair.
"My name is Aya Asahina."
She paused, green eyes steady on Jun.
"Nice to meet you."
"Jun Hashimoto."
His chin lifted slightly as he spoke his name.
After a brief pause, his brows drew together just a little.
"I don't know if I should take that as a compliment."
"There you go again…"
Aya's eyes stayed on him, her head tilting slightly.
"That look you have… it feels like you're about to lecture me on my form."
She let out a short breath, then closed her eyes.
One finger lifted and turned in a small circle near her temple, her lips curving into a faint smirk.
"I know. I know. I'm rusty."
Her hand lowered back to her lap.
The motion slowed.
"I haven't played since…"
Her lips pressed together for a moment.
"Well. It doesn't matter."
Jun's gaze shifted to the hoop, lingering there for a moment.
His eyes traced along the metal frame before returning to her.
"The rim is bent."
He paused, eyes lifting back toward it.
"It's lower on the left. Just a little..So… that's probably why you missed."
Her eyes widened slightly, the change subtle but clear.
Her posture straightened as she looked at him, then back toward the hoop.
"You know…"
A small pause followed as she exhaled.
"You might be right."
She lifted the ball again, settling it briefly in her hands.
Her arms moved in a smooth motion as she released it from the chair, fingers extending as the ball left her grip.
It struck the rim and fell away, missing once more.
A breath left her slowly, her shoulders sinking as the air slipped out.
Jun moved again, stepping toward where the ball had rolled.
He picked it up and let it drop once.
It struck the concrete with a sharp echo before rebounding into his hand.
He guided it back toward her, releasing it with a short push.
"It's obvious you practice a lot." His voice was low.
"You have good form. Its just that... the shot doesn't have enough power to reach the hoop."
Aya's expression shifted.
Her hands tightened around the rims of her chair, fingers pressing into the metal.
Her head lowered, bangs slipping forward to hide her eyes.
A breath left her, heavier than before.
"Well… thanks for the news flash."
Her grip held firm as her shoulders stiffened.
"Captain Obvious. I noticed."
"I'm not insulting you."
Jun stepped closer, the distance between them closing as his scuffs came to a stop near her chair.
His posture stayed straight, his hands relaxed at his sides.
"I'm just pointing out the problem.And problems have solutions."
"If you think you're so much better… why don't you try it?"
The ball left her hands in a short, sharp motion, striking his chest before dropping into his grasp.
Jun caught it with one hand, the weight settling into his palm with a dull impact.
He didn't turn toward the hoop.
His attention stayed on her.
Her mouth tightened as her lower lip trembled once before she pressed it still.
Her jaw set, shoulders rigid as she held herself upright, hands fixed on the wheels, frustration held in place without a word.
"I'm not the one who needs to prove I can make the shot."
Jun's voice stayed low as he moved closer, his steps stopping just in front of her chair.
The space between them narrowed, close enough that she became aware of his presence without looking up.
A faint warmth crept into her cheeks.
"You already have the form.You just need the height."
Before she could form the question, Jun moved.
He set the ball carefully into her lap, his fingers lingering just long enough to make sure it wouldn't slip.
His hands then settled at her waist, firm and steady.
"Wait— what are you—?"
Her breath hitched as the ground shifted.
Jun lifted her with a controlled motion, strength applied without hesitation.
It wasn't gentle, but it was secure.
Her body rose until she was seated across his shoulders, balanced and supported.
A short gasp escaped her.
Her hands reached out on instinct, fingers catching in his hair as she steadied herself.
Only then did she register the weight of the ball still resting against her palms, pressed lightly to her chest as she held on.
"Shoot."
Jun's voice came out slightly muted, carried upward from below her.
His stance remained firm, feet planted as his hands stayed steady at her legs.
"The rim is still lower on the left."
His grip tightened just enough to hold her in place.
"Adjust for it."
Aya's mouth parting as if to protest.
The air shifted around her instead.
Wind brushed across her face, tugging at her hair and lifting the loose strands away from her cheeks.
Her eyes widened as she looked out from her new height.
From here, the court stretched out clearly beneath her.
The hoop sat directly ahead, no longer distant, no longer out of reach.
Her grip tightened around the ball.
She inhaled once more, steadying herself.
Her shoulders squared, her arm moved, and her wrist snapped forward.
The ball left her hands and cut cleanly through the space ahead.
It passed straight through the hoop.
The net snapped sharply, the sound ringing out across the empty court.
Aya went still, her arms still raised, fingers spread where the release had ended.
Her breath caught, then spilled out.
A laugh followed, light and unrestrained, carrying the air from her chest as her shoulders shook once, the sound clear and real.
It… went in.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
A sudden sharp tapping of heels sounded against the concrete.
"Ms. Asahina!!"
Aya rotated her head. "Nurse Ishikawa..."
Jun shifted his weight, his eyes moving toward the entrance of the court where a nurse was approaching.
He gripped Aya's waist and lowered her from his shoulders.
Her feet touched the metal plates of the wheelchair, and he stepped back to provide space.
The nurse stepped forward, stopping a short distance away.
Her gaze moved from Jun to Aya, both hands settling at her hips.
"This area isn't approved."
Her posture remained firm, shoulders squared as she looked directly at Aya.
"I've explained the rules to you many times about moving around the grounds on your own."
A breath left her through her nose as her eyes dropped briefly to the chair.
"We need to be careful with your lumbar support."
Aya's expression stayed neutral for a beat.
Then her lips curved upward, settling into a grin.
"I just thought the fresh air out here would be better for me."
Her shoulders lifted slightly as she spoke.
"It's nicer than staring at the ceiling in my room… or being stuck in crowded places."
Nurse Ishikawa let out a short breath, her hand reaching for the wheelchair.
She adjusted its position with a practiced motion, the wheels giving a brief scrape against the concrete.
"Honestly…"
Her gaze dropped to Aya, firm but familiar.
"You always find a reason to end up exactly where you want to be."
The nurse turned toward Jun and lowered her head in a formal bow.
Jun stood straight, placing his hands at his sides, and returned the bow.
She gripped the handles of the chair and began to turn it toward the path.
Aya raised her arm, her fingers moving in a wide wave as the chair moved away.
"Good bye, Jun! Let us meet again!"
…She was something.
But still… why is that?
Why is she hiding how she really feels about her own situation?
Jun watched her leave.
The soft roll of the wheelchair faded against the concrete.