It was hard to watch. A team that could've made it all the way—cut short before they ever got the chance to shine.
Nanaho sat by the window in the second-floor hallway, arms crossed loosely over her chest. Her gaze was fixed outside, but her thoughts were buried deep in frustration and quiet sorrow. The clouds were dense today, thickening the light in the sky to a dull gray, mirroring the weight pressing down on her chest.
They had the talent. The chemistry. The drive. She knew it. If circumstances were fair, we would've been there… Inter-High. Her lips tightened.
Then her eyes drifted lower, catching a small scene in motion near the back courtyard.
A girl, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, stood facing the wall. Her shoulders shook slightly, and her hair, a familiar shade of deep brown, clung to her cheeks—damp with tears.
Tomoe.
Nanaho's heart sank.
If she's crying like that… then that must mean…
Her stomach twisted.
Jirou's back.
Tomoe hadn't shown her emotions to anyone—not since Hiroki was arrested. She bottled everything up like a vault, always forcing herself to smile through it, even when the whispers got crueler. The only thing that could've cracked that shell was him.
Jirou must've returned to school. Out of the hospital… and didn't say a word to any of us on the team. Not even a heads-up.
Her fingers curled into fists on her lap.
If he was truly innocent—if he was as guiltless as he pretended—why didn't he come back to the court the first chance he got?
Her eyes moved again.
Tetsuo was approaching Tomoe, walking at a steady pace. His expression unreadable, but purposeful as always.
Nanaho allowed herself a small exhale. At the very least… she has someone like him watching over her. Someone who sees her pain.
"Tomoe," said Tetsuo as he stepped up behind her. His voice was low, calm, and flat—almost quiet enough to be mistaken for a breeze. "What are you doing out here?"
Tomoe didn't turn around right away. She kept staring ahead, her breaths shallow.
"I don't know anymore," she said quietly. "I just… I feel like I've got nowhere left to run. I'm tired of his lies. Tired of pretending. I just want all of this to end. Is that really so much to ask?"
There was a rawness in her voice, a crackling edge of helplessness barely kept in check. Her nails dug slightly into her arms.
"It's Jirou, isn't it?" Tetsuo asked. "I saw what happened in the library. Books shredded."
Tomoe finally turned. Her eyes were red, her voice trembling. "No one ever believes me when I talk about what he's done. They all just say I'm making it up. That I'm trying to start drama because of what happened between him and my brother."
Her voice wavered. "They think I'm unstable. That I'm just some crazy girl who harms herself and blames it on someone else. No one ever questions him. He plays the part so well—smiling like nothing's wrong."
The courtyard was quiet except for the distant hum of students inside the building.
"I can't take this anymore. I'll just drop out. Transfer to some place far away. That's the only way I'll be free."
"No," Tetsuo said flatly. "Dropping out isn't an option."
Tomoe blinked, startled by how direct his tone was.
"Running from him won't solve anything. All it'll do is hollow out the life you still have. Your brother, Hiroki, wouldn't have wanted that for you. He protected you. If you give up now, then everything he did will have been meaningless."
Tomoe lowered her gaze. Her knees wobbled slightly.
"You can't let Jirou dictate how your story goes. Not anymore."
Tetsuo's voice never rose, never faltered. "I have a plan. Something that'll expose him for what he really is. But I need your help. Meet me in the literature club room after school. I'll explain the details then."
Tomoe looked up again, eyes wet with hesitant hope. "You're serious? You really think you can stop him?"
"I don't think. I know."
She inhaled shakily. "Thank you. Really… I mean it. Why are you going this far for me?"
Tetsuo stepped back, hands in his pockets. His expression didn't shift.
"The reason's the same as it was the day we met," he said as he turned. "Your eyes."
The clock ticked steadily in the quiet clubroom. Tomoe sat near the windows, resting her elbows on the desk, chin in her hand. The room smelled faintly of old paper and chalk dust. Outside, the wind pressed gently against the panes.
What am I doing? He's just a first year… what could he even pull off?
Her eyes drifted across the room—the shelves where books used to line every row, the cracked whiteboard in the corner, the posters that still hung, faded but familiar.
I didn't think I'd ever come back here after disbanding this club.
A dull ache spread in her chest.
Tetsuo's taking longer than expected… maybe I should just head home and call him later.
She stood, brushing the back of her skirt absently. The floor creaked slightly under her step. Just as she turned toward the door—
A shadow stretched under the doorway.
"I've been waiting for you," came a voice. Calm. Cold. Too familiar.
Tomoe froze.
Jirou stepped into the room, his uniform neat, but his eyes gleamed with something twisted.
"Perfect timing."
Her breath caught in her throat. She stumbled back, knocking into the desk behind her. The metal frame screeched against the floor.
"Wh-Why are you here?" she asked, backing away.
"I've been watching you since you left the library," Jirou said, his tone casual, lips curled in amusement. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"
Tomoe's legs trembled. "What do you want?!"
"Isn't it obvious?" He took another step forward. "I'm here for you."
Her fingers tightened around the desk edge. "Why do you pretend in front of everyone? Like you're the victim? You know what you've done—so why keep acting?"
He let out a dry laugh. "Because there are no consequences. People believe what they want to believe. You're the perfect scapegoat—so emotional, so unstable."
He clicked his tongue. "Like today. I had fun ripping your books to shreds. Your reaction? Priceless. And when you threw those books at me, I got to play innocent again. You did me a favor."
"You're disgusting!" Tomoe shouted.
He ignored her, voice lowering. "Tetsuo, that basketball guy… he won't be here for a while, will he? That gives me time."
"What are you talking about?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
"What I should've done months ago."
He lunged forward and grabbed her, shoving her back toward the floor.
"No!! Get off!!" she cried, thrashing.
"I'm going to enjoy this. And the best part? No one will believe you. They never do," Jirou hissed.
Tomoe clenched her eyes shut.
Then—
"That's as far as you're going."
The voice came from the door.
Jirou's body jerked. He turned sharply.
Tetsuo stood in the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a camera.
"You—?! What the hell are you doing here?!"
"You were listening to our conversation, weren't you?" Tetsuo said quietly, stepping into the room. "So I should ask you—did you really think you'd get away with this?"
"You—if you hadn't shown up, I—!"
"Exactly," Tetsuo interrupted. "And that's why I came prepared."
He lifted the camera.
"This has everything. Video. Audio. Your confession. Your actions. Every word you said to Tomoe just now. Plus footage from earlier—ripping her books, the attack at the park. Everything."
Jirou's breath hitched. His composure cracked.
"You… you were here the whole time?!"
"From the moment you followed her from the library," Tetsuo replied.
He pressed a button. The camera lit up, flashing clips. Jirou's voice, cruel and clear, filled the room.
Tomoe stared, mouth open. Her legs finally gave out, and she sank to her knees, eyes wide.
"And now," said Tetsuo, "all that's left is to report this."
"You bastard!! I'm not letting you leave with that!!"
Jirou lunged, but Tetsuo shifted to the side. Jirou flew past and crashed into a row of desks, tumbling over them in a mess of limbs and scraping metal.
Tetsuo didn't even flinch.
"It's over, Jirou."