The gym smelled the same way it always did at tournaments. Polished wood, sweat, that faint metallic tang of effort. Kids running everywhere. Sneakers squeaking. Parents shouting. Chaos, but somehow it had a rhythm. I liked it. It made sense in a way school never did.
I found my team near Court 3. Haru was bouncing on his toes, muttering about seeing Aoi play up close. I just shook my head, smiling. Sota was off to the side, scribbling something in his notebook, moving faster than anyone could follow. I leaned back, letting the noise settle into something familiar.
And then I saw her.
Aoi.
She was laughing at something her teammate said. Her hair fell over one shoulder, catching the sunlight from the high windows. Her blue eyes flashed like water. I turned away before I could stare.
"Hey." Her voice pulled me back.
She was walking toward me, water bottle in hand. "You're actually here early. Surprising."
I cleared my throat. "I, uh… yeah. Thought I'd watch for a bit before my game."
She smiled and sat down beside me. "You always seem like you're somewhere else."
"Maybe I am," I said.
She nudged me gently. "Are you going to start talking now, or just stare at the floor like usual?"
I laughed softly. "Guess I'll let you talk first."
"Smart. You've always been the quiet type, haven't you?"
"I guess," I shrugged. "I like watching. Figuring things out before jumping in."
She tilted her head, hair brushing my shoulder. "That makes sense. You've always been that way."
Her words hit me differently this time. Always been that way. Always there. Always noticing. And now, she noticed me. Not in the loud, obvious way that Haru did. Just… casually. Naturally.
"I remember when we were like seven," I said before I could stop myself. "I fell off the swings once."
She laughed softly. "Oh my god, yes. You cried so much. Then blamed me for cheering too loud."
"You stayed with me though," I said quietly. "Even when I was being stupid."
She looked down at her hands for a moment. "You would've been fine without me. But I didn't want you to feel alone, I guess."
That was Aoi. Always there. Quietly. Making things better. Always.
The first break ended. We went back to our teams. But I couldn't shake it. The memory, the sound of her laugh, the way she carried herself. It stirred something inside me. Something heavier than friendship. Something I wasn't ready to name.
I watched her from across the gym. The way she encouraged her teammates. The little glances. The easy way she moved. She made the chaos feel smaller, warmer. Somehow, the gym felt bigger and quieter all at once, and she was the center.
And I wanted to be closer. Not just on the court. Not just at school. But here, too.
I didn't know what that meant yet. I only knew it felt different. And for the first time, that was enough.
I watched Aoi from the bleachers. Her team moved across the court like a single organism, each pass and cut fluid and precise. The way she pivoted, the way she read her teammates' movements, it was effortless. Every time she went up for a shot, I held my breath, and every time it dropped through the net, I couldn't help but grin.
I kept thinking about our conversation during the break. The way she laughed, the way she nudged me, the way she had somehow made me feel… seen. Small, easy gestures that I hadn't really noticed before. And now, watching her, it hit me how much she carried herself naturally, how much everyone gravitated toward her without her trying.
Then it was my turn. My team huddled, and I slipped onto the court, trying to focus. But I couldn't. For the first half, my mind kept drifting back to Aoi—her laugh, her smile, the way she had looked at me during our break. I fumbled passes, missed easy shots, and my legs felt heavier than usual. Haru shot me exasperated looks. Sota just shook his head, muttering under his breath, and I hated that I was letting everyone down.
By halftime, we were down by more than ten points. The gym was hotter than before, the air thick with sweat and tension. Coach Tanaka erupted in the locker room.
"What the hell are you guys doing out there?!" he barked, slamming his clipboard on the bench. "Move your feet! Think! Play like you give a damn! Kaito! Stop spacing out!"
I shrank into the corner, my heart racing, my thoughts scrambled. I started to panic, my breathing becoming rampant my heart racing out of my chest.
Suddenly a warm arm reached out and touched my shoulder.
"Kaito,"I heard a whisper in my ear. All of a sudden my issues seemed to vanish. The entire gym went quiet.I looked to my right and saw Aoi; her blue eyes were serious now, not playful. "What's going on? You're not… you're not playing like yourself."
I hesitated. The words wouldn't come. Everything I had been thinking—about her, about us, about how lost I'd been in my own head—suddenly felt too big for a simple explanation.
"Just… I don't know," I said finally. "I can't focus."
She nodded, like she understood more than I'd said.
"Then focus on one thing. The court. The ball. Yourself. Forget the rest. Trust yourself."
It was ridiculous how something so simple could cut through everything else I'd been tangled in. Something shifted. My chest felt lighter, my feet faster, my mind clearer. I went back out there, and for the first time all day, I felt like I belonged. My passes were sharper. My shots fell more naturally. I was moving like I usually imagined myself moving, but couldn't. It wasn't her words that caused this change… it was her. It was as if my body knew she was watching now and knew that I couldn't disappoint her.
We still lost, though. By a wide margin. But I played better than I ever had. That half alone felt like progress.
After the final whistle, I sat on the bleachers for a moment, trying to breathe, trying to let the adrenaline fade. I started packing my bag when I noticed her standing there, waiting.
"Hey," she said, smiling. "I saw you out there.
Your coach yelling at you? That worked."
I frowned. "It means nothing. We lost."
She tilted her head, looking at me like she always did, as she saw right through me.
"No, it doesn't mean anything. You didn't play perfectly, but you pushed yourself when you could have just given up. You made adjustments, Kaito. That's what matters. It's not about the scoreboard. It's about improving. About realizing what you can do when you actually try. Don't mistake failure for nothing."
I didn't know what to say. Her words pressed against something inside me, something I hadn't admitted even to myself. As we walked out of the gym together, the evening air cool against my skin, I felt… restless. A sense that I'd been sleeping through pieces of life I wasn't even aware existed.
"Thanks," I said finally.
She smiled, nudging me lightly with her shoulder."Of course, if we didn't have each other, who would we have"
That line lit a fire in me. I had to get better at basketball, not for me but for Aoi.