The sound of hurried footsteps crunched across the gravel. Nanaho emerged from the front of the school, the Pe teacher Souma-sensei right behind her. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the campus, but it couldn't hide the mess sprawled across the clearing near the indoor court.
Makoto sat slouched against the fence, his lip bloodied and swelling. Noboru knelt in the grass, clutching his side and muttering curses under his breath. Liam leaned on Takahiro's shoulder, his nose stuffed with tissues already stained deep red. Shino still shaken sat down in the grass.
Souma-sensei's jaw tightened at the sight. "What the hell happened here?"
Nanaho opened her mouth to speak, eyes flicking toward the injured players, but before the words could escape, Yukio stepped forward, placing himself between her and the teacher.
"They're all part of the basketball team," he said quickly. "I'm the captain—I'll handle it."
Souma frowned. "They look like they got trampled. This doesn't look like something you can just brush off, Yukio." Nanaho already filled me in about the fight a student was caused.
"It was an argument," Yukio said evenly, though there was a flicker in his eyes. "Things got heated during training. I take full responsibility. I'll make sure this doesn't happen again."
Nanaho glanced sideways at him, confused. She hadn't expected him to cut her off—especially not like that. And what did he mean that Tadao was apart of the team?
Souma looked at them both, then sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Fine. But I better not hear about this again. This is your first and last warning. Clean it up."
He turned on his heel and walked back toward the school, muttering something under his breath.
As soon as he was gone, Noboru exploded. "Are you kidding me?! Why the hell didn't you say anything?! We could've gotten that bastard expelled!"
Yukio didn't flinch. "That's not the way this needs to go."
"Not the way—?!" Noboru winced, pain lancing up his side as he tried to stand.
"Yukio…" Nanaho said quietly. She stared at him, still stunned he'd intervened.
He turned slightly, his voice lower now, almost too soft for the others to hear. "I know it doesn't make sense right now. But just trust me. It'll all be clearer soon."
There was something in his voice—not hesitation, but gravity. Like he'd already made a decision that none of them could understand yet.
Noboru grumbled and half-limped with Hayato's support as Nanaho stepped forward, eyes sharp again.
"All right, let's get everyone patched up," she said, her tone regaining its edge. "Takahiro, help Liam. Hayato, keep Noboru steady. Tetsuo, you've got Makoto?"
Tetsuo gave a simple nod, silent as always, and wrapped an arm under Makoto's to help him walk. Shino trailed close behind, quiet and shaken. Tomoe paused, watching how easily Tetsuo supported Makoto, like it was second nature.
They moved slowly toward the open bench area behind the schoolyard, past the cracked pavement and rusted hoops of an old basketball court. Nanaho crouched beside Noboru first, opening her medical kit and pulling out antiseptic.
"Ow, ow—damn it, that stings!" Noboru shouted as she pressed alcohol to the cut on his cheek.
"Stop moving. Do you want to bleed all over your training gear?"
"Why couldn't Tomoe treat me? At least she looks like she knows what gentleness is. You? You treat everything like it owes you money."
Nanaho raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Then how about this?"
She poured a little more alcohol onto the cotton and pressed harder.
"OW! Okay, okay, I take it back—it burns!"
A smirk twitched at the edge of Nanaho's mouth.
Tomoe knelt beside Makoto instead, her touch gentler as she dabbed at the blood along his temple.
"Thanks…" Makoto murmured, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.
Tomoe smiled faintly, dabbing at the cut on his brow. "It's nothing," she said softly. "Just playing my role."
Liam sat cross-legged nearby, tissues sticking from his nose like plugs. His voice was muffled but still clear enough.
"That guy… he punches like a truck."
Hayato nodded grimly. "Yeah. Never thought anyone could take you down like that."
Liam sighed, his head tipped back. "Can we vote to just not piss him off again?"
Nanaho stood, surveying them all. "With how banged up you are, training's cut short today. Rest for now—we'll head home in about an hour."
There was a soft murmur of agreement. The adrenaline began to drain from their systems, replaced by soreness and silence. Even Noboru had nothing left to say.
Tetsuo wandered toward the edge of the court, where a stray ball lay in the grass. He picked it up, turned slowly, and stepped to the free-throw line. Without a word, he began to shoot.
Thud. Swish.
Thud. Swish.
Each shot flew clean through the air, smooth and precise. There was no hesitation in his form—only rhythm. But no joy. No grin after a clean swish. No victory in the way he held the ball.
Tomoe sat on the bench nearby, her chin resting in her palm as she watched him.
He's so focused… so precise, she thought. But not happy. Not like the others when they play. No smile, no spark. Just… silence.
She swallowed.
And he fought off that monster like it was nothing. Noboru got flattened. Even Liam barely landed a hit. But Tetsuo—he didn't even flinch. Like fighting wasn't strange for him. Like he'd done it before.
She opened her mouth—maybe to say something. But what could she ask? "Are you okay"? He wouldn't answer. Not honestly.
The wind rustled through the trees, scattering petals from the cherry blossoms that lined the school grounds. One floated past Tomoe's hand, landing gently in her lap.
She glanced at it, then back at him.
Why do you look so far away… even when you're right there?
As the hour passed and the sun dipped lower, everyone began to gather their things. Bruised, sore, and quiet, they trickled away from the court one by one.
On the train ride home, Tomoe sat next to Tetsuo, sneaking glances out of the corner of her eye. He stared out the window, his face unreadable. The world passed by in soft blurs, yet he didn't blink, didn't react.
Not a word passed between them. And still, she found comfort in the silence.
They got off at the same station. The walk to her house was quiet, the path lined with those same cherry blossom trees, petals tumbling in soft pink spirals to the sidewalk.
"You really don't have to keep doing this," Tomoe said as they neared her gate. "Walking me home, I mean."
"It's okay," Tetsuo replied. "I want to."
She smiled faintly, then reached for the gate. "Thanks again…"
He turned to leave.
"Wait," she said, almost too quickly.
He paused, glancing over his shoulder. "What is it?"
Tomoe gripped the fabric over her chest, where her heart thudded a nervous rhythm. Her lips parted. There were words there—questions, fears, something that reached toward him.
But all that came out was: "…Never mind. It's nothing."
Tetsuo waited a second longer, then gave her the smallest of nods before turning again, his footsteps fading into the dusk.
Tomoe stood there, watching him disappear down the road.
There's something buried inside him, she thought. Something heavy. But maybe… he's not as far away as he seems.