The air in the gym shifts, tension snapping tight like a pulled rope. Kenta, leaning against the wall with his arms folded, raises his brows but says nothing, the corner of his mouth curling into the faintest grin.
Ryohei and Okabe trade a look; curiosity sparks in their eyes, sharp and unspoken. Even Nakahara pauses in mid-step, his hands tightening on the towel slung over his shoulder.
For a moment, the whole gym seems to tilt toward the same thought: Aramaki hasn't come here for nothing.
But Aramaki only gives them smile, a humble, almost peaceful curve of the lips.
"Good day, everyone."
His voice is calm, disarming against the weight of his presence.
And to everyone's surprise, Ryoma answers casually.
"You finally came."
Every head turns. The way he says it, it sounds as if he invited Aramaki.
"Sorry," Aramaki says, trudging toward the bench by the ring. "I'm late. Had some things to do at home."
