Inside a Ramen Shop
"Kasamatsu-senpai, looks like it's about to rain."
Kise slurped up a mouthful of noodles, glancing at the now-darkened skies outside.
"But the forecast said it wasn't supposed to rain today…"
Kasamatsu looked out the window and replied, "Hurry up and eat so we can head home."
Kise nodded and shoved the noodles into his mouth, mumbling, "Still, we won the championship... Coach couldn't even treat us to a dinner or something?"
Kasamatsu shrugged. "We've got interviews lined up. Kota and Coach are probably off celebrating together."
Huh… really?
Kise stared down at his bowl of ramen, nodding absentmindedly.
Seeing how spaced out Kise looked, Kasamatsu didn't hesitate to chop him on the head.
"Snap out of it. You've been acting weird ever since we sat down. If you don't eat, your noodles are going to turn into mush."
Kise, surprisingly, didn't argue back. He turned to look outside the shop, squinting.
Something just feels… off.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, raindrops began to fall. First a drizzle—then a full-on downpour.
"Told you to eat faster. Now we're stuck here."
"Sorry, senpai! Let's wait till it slows down a bit before heading out!"
Elsewhere in the city – Shark Gym
Araki was lounging on the couch, half-reclined with a magazine in her hands. On the coffee table, her phone screen glowed with several red missed call notifications—hard to miss.
She hadn't turned the page in a while. Clearly, her mind wasn't on the magazine.
Suddenly, the front door of Shark Gym swung open.
Araki slowly looked up. In this kind of rain, only two types of people would show up at a gym: hardcore gym rats… or Kota.
Sure enough, there stood Kota in the doorway, dripping wet from head to toe. He clearly hadn't expected the sudden downpour.
"Game's over already? No team dinner? Don't tell me Takeuchi's that cheap."
Araki closed her magazine and asked casually.
"There was an interview. Coach didn't want to drag things out, so he dismissed everyone and said we'd make up for it later."
Kota spoke while pulling out a towel and drying off.
Araki said nothing, just stared at him silently. For a few seconds, the air was thick with quiet.
"Miss Masako… I'm starving."
Kota dried his hair and gave her a cheeky grin.
"What do you want to eat? Steak?"
Araki stood and stretched—she hadn't eaten either.
"Cheat day's not until the day after tomorrow."
Kota's words made her pause mid-stretch. She turned her head to look at him, but Kota was still grinning like nothing was wrong.
"Wait here."
Araki didn't argue. She headed to the kitchen.
As she walked away, Kota's smile slowly faded.
He didn't ask why she hadn't answered his calls, just as she hadn't asked why he hadn't answered hers.
—
A few minutes later, Araki came back carrying two plates. Kota could already smell the steak from across the room.
"Seriously, Miss Masako? I thought cheat day was the day after tomorrow."
"You just finished a big game. You'll burn it off."
Araki ignored Kota's odd mood and placed the plates in front of him.
Tonight's dinner: two juicy steaks with broccoli and a bowl of rice.
Faced with that aroma, Kota didn't argue anymore. He grabbed his chopsticks and dug in.
Sure, eating steak with chopsticks felt weird — but this wasn't a steakhouse, and it was just the two of them. Comfort came first.
While Kota devoured his food like a starving lion, Araki sat down gracefully, tucking her hair behind her ear and nibbling at her salad.
For a while, only chewing and swallowing could be heard.
"…Hey, Miss Masako. I didn't make the U18 national team."
Kota casually tore into his steak as he said it, like it was no big deal.
Araki's hand paused mid-air with a piece of broccoli. She quietly replied, "Hmm," not at all surprised.
Silence again.
Usually their quiet moments were peaceful—but this one made Araki strangely uneasy.
"Aren't you gonna ask why? We won the tournament. Doesn't that seem a bit odd?"
Kota's words made Araki grip her chopsticks tighter, almost breaking the broccoli in two. She didn't look up—just stared at her plate like she was trying to decide what to eat next.
If Kota had looked up, he might've noticed her expression wasn't right. But he was still staring at his steak, a bitter smile forming.
"Coach Takeuchi told me I'd get in as long as I showed up to the trials next week. The Basketball Association already made the call."
"…Thanks, Miss Masako. If it weren't for you, I'd probably still be all hyped up for that tryout…"
He leaned back and looked up at the ceiling, his eyes filled with frustration.
What he didn't see was Araki suddenly covering her mouth, her body trembling.
"…Sorry. You went through all that trouble training me and—wait, huh? Miss Masako?? Are you crying??"
Kota looked down and panicked.
The usually composed Araki… was crying?
Tears rolled down her cheeks silently. She bit her lips so hard they were turning purple, trying not to sob.
Kota freaked out. "Why is she crying?? I'm the one who didn't make the team!"
Still clueless, Kota handed her some tissues and awkwardly joked:
"Uh… Miss Masako, just to be clear — you're not sweating through your eyes, right?"
At that, Araki burst into actual sobs.
Kota: "…"
Seeing her break down even more, he had no choice but to shuffle over to the couch and try to console her.
He awkwardly patted her back, talking in that fake-soothing voice adults use with crying toddlers:
"Don't cry… don't cry… you're a big girl, right? Big girls don't cry…"
He forced himself through the cringe, clearly not gifted at emotional support.
After a few lines—whether it was his words or just a bad move— Araki suddenly grabbed his collar and buried her head in his chest to avoid eye contact.
"Stop talking! That's gross!"
Kota immediately shut up. Not only had he failed to comfort her—he'd tortured himself with that cringe-fest.
As time passed, Araki's sobs quieted. Kota figured she was almost done—his shirt was soaked in tears.
Women really are made of water…
He sighed internally, then asked softly, "You okay now?"
No reply.
Just as Kota was about to awkwardly ask again, a mosquito-sized voice came out:
"…I'm sorry."
Huh? Who?
He looked around. They were still alone.
"Uh… Was that you just now?"
Another soft, "I'm sorry."
"…Why are you apologizing? I'm the one who didn't make the team. I should be apologizing to you—you trained me and I let you down."
She didn't answer—just whispered again, "I'm sorry."
Kota: "…"
Is she broken? Also, talking with your face buried like that makes this really hard to hear!
He rubbed his forehead, activated Overthinker to calm down, then said gently:
"It's okay, Miss Masako. I forgive you, even if I don't know why. But could you maybe lift your head and wipe your face first? Then we can talk this out?"
No reaction.
Kota tried tugging gently—yep, she had a death grip on his collar.
Okay, this is seriously off-brand for her…
Sighing, he leaned in close to her ear and asked, "Come on, Miss Masako. I'm listening."
Finally, she started talking. Still refusing to lift her head, she told him everything that happened off the court today.
—
"…Wait. So you didn't want me to join the U18 team at all? I thought you did!"
Kota's expression twisted. He'd totally misunderstood her intentions.
Hearing the implied accusation, Araki finally peeked up and asked nervously:
"You're… not mad? I practically ruined your national team dream!"
Kota scratched his head, took a tissue, and gently wiped her tears.
"Well… I wouldn't call it a 'dream' exactly. I did want to join—to prove something—but now? I'm okay with just playing for Kaijo. I'm happy here."
"And besides… it's not like you actually did anything, right?"
"Wrong!" Araki snapped. "That's exactly why it's my fault! I could've helped—but I didn't…"
Her voice grew quieter and quieter. She looked down again, ready to go full ostrich-mode into Kota's chest.
Kota stopped her mid-dive, smiling:
"You're wrong. You did help me."
"You helped me see what was really going on with the basketball association."
U18 star, huh? Cover-ups and politics… Nice job.