Chapter 8: The Fairy Who Changed the Air
The scoreboard flickered like it almost didn't believe itself anymore.
50 – 0
Kakugawa's court didn't feel heavy.
Didn't feel oppressive.
Didn't feel like a battlefield.
It felt…
light.
The ball floated longer.
Steps felt quicker.
Reactions came easier.
And at the center of it all,
she moved.
Takahiro Hanamaki's older sister.
No loud presence.
No overwhelming aura.
Just… motion.
Fans gave her a name, eventually.
Not because she crushed opponents.
Not because she ruled them.
But because something about her play didn't feel grounded.
"Kakugawa's Fairy."
A ridiculous name.
And yet
when she played
it made perfect sense.
A pass came in.
Too far.
Too fast.
Too awkward.
Her body shifted.
Not forced.
Not calculated.
Just…
there.
Her fingers brushed the ball
And suddenly
it wasn't awkward anymore.
It floated.
Perfect.
As if the mistake had never existed.
The setter blinked.
"…That was off."
She tilted her head slightly.
"…Was it?"
Because to her
there were no bad balls.
Only ones that hadn't been touched yet.
The whistle blew.
Another 50-0.
She stretched lightly.
"…That felt short."
Because the game
had never weighed her down.
It simply…
moved with her.
Across the gym
Hanamaki watched.
"…She's cheating," he muttered.
Because it looked like that.
Like gravity itself bent slightly-
just to make her plays work.
Flashback.
"…You're doing it wrong."
Young Hanamaki froze mid-step.
"…Huh?"
She stood nearby.
Watching him practice.
"You're thinking too much."
"…That's how you get better."
"No."
Flat.
Immediate.
"That's how you get stuck."
He frowned.
"…Then what should I do?"
She didn't answer right away.
Because-
she was listening.
"...He's stiff."
The voice inside her spoke softly.
"…Yeah," she replied under her breath.
Hanamaki blinked.
"…You talking to someone?"
"Yeah."
"…Where?"
She pointed at her head.
"…Huh."
He accepted it immediately.
Because with her-
weird things just… fit.
"What do they say?" he asked.
"That you're stiff."
"…RUDE."
She shrugged.
"They're not wrong."
Hanamaki clicked his tongue.
"…Then fix me, oh Fairy or whatever."
She paused.
"…Fairy?"
"…You kinda move like one."
A beat.
"…I don't hate it."
Inside-
the voice stirred again.
"Names are irrelevant."
"…Yeah, yeah."
She stepped closer.
"Move."
"…I am moving."
"No."
She shook her head slightly.
"You're forcing movement."
A pause.
"Let it happen."
Hanamaki stared.
"…That makes zero sense."
She nodded.
"It will."
Then-
she tossed the ball.
Not high.
Not fast.
Just… drifting.
"Get it."
He stepped.
Too early.
Missed.
"…Again."
Toss.
This time-
he waited.
Too long.
Missed again.
"…Again."
Over and over.
Too fast.
Too slow.
Too forced.
Too late.
"…Again."
Hanamaki groaned.
"This is stupid!"
"No."
She tilted her head.
"You're just not listening."
"…To what?!"
She didn't answer.
Because the voice did.
"The space."
She repeated it.
"The space."
Hanamaki blinked.
"…What space?"
"The one between where you are…"
A pause.
"…and where the ball will be."
Silence.
"…That's just timing."
"No."
A small shake of her head.
"It's feeling."
Another toss.
"Again."
This time-
Hanamaki didn't rush.
Didn't hesitate.
He just…
moved.
The ball met his hands.
Clean.
Perfect.
He froze.
"…Wait."
She smiled slightly.
"There."
Inside-
the voice hummed.
"He's learning."
"…Slowly."
"That's fine."
Because unlike others-
she didn't rush growth.
She guided it.
Gently.
Naturally.
Like adjusting the wind instead of pushing the bird.
Time passed.
Hanamaki improved.
Not explosively.
But smoothly.
His movements became lighter.
His reactions cleaner.
He stopped forcing plays.
And started flowing through them.
"…This feels weird," he admitted once.
She nodded.
"…It should."
"Why?"
"Because you're finally not fighting yourself."
Back to the present.
Kakugawa's court felt alive.
Not tense.
Not rigid.
But fluid.
Every player moved better than they should.
Jumped higher than expected.
Connected plays that shouldn't have worked.
Because she was there.
Not controlling.
But adjusting.
Like a quiet wind guiding everything into place.
Hanamaki leaned against the wall.
"…She didn't just get strong."
A pause.
"She made everything else better."
And that was the truth.
Because her strength wasn't overwhelming.
It was transformative.
She didn't crush mistakes.
She erased them.
Turned them into opportunities.
Turned chaos into flow.
And somewhere deep inside-
that voice remained.
Calm.
Observant.
"Something is watching."
She blinked slightly.
"…Yeah."
A faint presence.
Not interfering.
Just… there.
Curious.
Drawn to movement.
To adaptability.
To a soul that refused to stay fixed.
"…Doesn't matter," she said softly.
"Not yet."
Because right now,
the court was simple.
Feel the space.
Move with it.
And let everything,
become just a little bit easier.
Like the world itself…
had decided to cooperate.