The afternoon sun hung high above the school grounds, casting sharp light across the basketball court. The rhythmic echo of bouncing balls and the occasional squeak of shoes against the surface filled the air, blending with the distant chatter of students.
Physical education had shifted into free play, and the court had quickly become the center of activity.
Rei stood near the edge of the court, the ball passing between players in a steady rhythm. He wasn't particularly invested in the game, though he participated when needed, moving with quiet efficiency rather than enthusiasm.
"Hayakawa, pass!"
He caught the ball without difficulty, pivoted slightly, and sent it back toward a teammate with clean precision. His movements were controlled, effortless, but lacking the competitive edge that others carried.
Across the court—
His gaze shifted.
Shiori was playing on the adjacent side with the girls.
Her movements were sharp, deliberate. She didn't waste energy, didn't hesitate. Every pass she made was clean, every step calculated. Even in something as casual as a sports period, there was a clear difference in how she approached it.
She wasn't just playing.
She was performing.
Rei watched her for a moment longer than necessary.
There was a certain rhythm to the way she moved—focused, composed, and strangely familiar. It reminded him of how she studied, how she spoke, how she carried herself in everything she did.
Consistent.
Unyielding.
"…You're distracted."
The voice came from beside him, but Rei barely registered it.
On the court, Shiori intercepted a pass cleanly, pivoted, and moved forward without breaking stride.
For just a moment—
Rei almost smiled.
That was when it happened.
"Rei—!"
The warning came too late.
A ball struck him squarely against the side of his head.
The impact wasn't heavy enough to cause real harm, but it was sudden, sharp enough to break his focus completely. He stumbled half a step back, blinking as the world seemed to shift slightly for a moment.
"…Ow."
Footsteps rushed toward him.
"I—I'm so sorry!"
Yuna Takahashi stopped in front of him, her expression filled with immediate concern. Her hands hovered uncertainly, as if she didn't know whether to reach out or not.
"I didn't mean to hit you," she continued quickly. "I was trying to pass and—"
"It's fine," Rei said, lifting a hand lightly to the side of his head. "I should've been paying attention."
"That doesn't make it okay," she insisted, her voice soft but urgent. "Are you hurt?"
He shook his head slightly. "I'm fine."
Yuna didn't look convinced.
"…Sit down for a second," she said.
"I don't need to—"
"You do," she interrupted gently.
There was something firm in her tone, unusual for her.
Rei paused.
Then, with a quiet sigh, he stepped toward the bench at the side of the court and sat down.
Yuna followed immediately, kneeling slightly in front of him.
"Stay still," she said softly.
"…You're overreacting."
"I'm not."
She reached into her bag and pulled out a small towel, damp from a nearby water bottle. Carefully, she lifted it and pressed it lightly against the side of his head where the ball had struck.
The touch was gentle.
Careful.
Rei didn't resist.
"…You really didn't have to do this."
"I did," she replied. "It's my fault."
"It's not."
"It is."
A brief silence settled between them.
The noise of the court continued in the
background, but it felt distant now.
"…Does it hurt?" Yuna asked quietly.
"Not really."
"You're lying."
"Only a little."
She frowned slightly, though it was more worried than upset.
"…You should be more careful."
"You should aim better."
For a moment—
She blinked.
Then—
A small, hesitant smile appeared.
"…I'll try."
Rei leaned back slightly, letting the towel rest where she held it.
"…Thanks."
Yuna's expression softened.
"You're welcome."
From across the court—
Shiori stood still for a moment, watching.
Her gaze rested on the two of them.
On the way Yuna leaned closer.
On the way Rei didn't pull away.
Her expression didn't change.
Not visibly.
Then—
The ball was passed to her again.
And without another glance—
She moved.
The game continued.