I don't remember how the day started. I couldn't tell you what I ate for lunch, or even what we covered in class.
All I remember is staying late.
I wasn't supposed to. I usually went straight home after school. That was just how I was back then. Keep my head down. Do what I needed to do. Don't make things harder than they had to be.
But on the walk out, a light caught my eye.
The gym doors were still open. The floor inside looked freshly polished, the lights reflecting off it in a way that made the whole place feel quieter than the rest of the school. I stopped without really meaning to. For a second, I just stood there, staring, getting lost in the light.
Unconsciously, as if possessed, my body started drifting into the gym.
I'd played basketball for years by then, but I wasn't anyone special. I was quick on my feet, sure, but I wasn't the kid people came to watch. I liked it that way. Less attention meant fewer opportunities to make mistakes.
I set my bag down near the door, the way I always did, and looked around. The gym felt bigger than usual, quiet in a way that made every sound carry. I checked the corners, the bleachers, the far end of the court. No voices. No movement. Just me, the lights overhead, and the floor stretching out in front of me.
I took a few shots. Missed most of them. Made a couple. Nothing worth writing down.
I was bent over, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath when I heard someone behind me say,
"You're still here?"
I knew the voice before I turned around.
Aoi had always sounded like that. Easy. Like she wasn't carrying anything heavy, even when she was. She was a year older than me, already the best player on the girls' team, already someone people talked about. We'd grown up together, so I didn't think much of it at the time. Or maybe I was trying not to.
"Yeah," I said. "Just messing around."
She looked at me, then at the ball, then back at me.
"You don't usually mess around after school."
I shrugged. "Guess I felt like it."
She smiled. Not a big one. Just enough to let me know she didn't believe me and wasn't going to call me out on it.
She picked up a ball and said, "If you're going to stay, at least bend your knees more."
I told her she loved telling me what to do.
She said I loved pretending I didn't need it.
We stayed for a bit after that. Passing the ball. Taking turns shooting. Talking about nothing important. Or at least that's what it felt like then.
When we left, it was already dark. We walked part of the way home together. Not too close. Not too far apart either.
She asked if I was going to stay late again.
I said I didn't know.
She said, "Okay," like that was enough.
I didn't think much of that day at the time. It didn't feel like a beginning. There was no moment when everything changed.
But looking back now, that was the first time I stopped standing still.
Sometimes that's how it happens. Quiet. Ordinary. You don't realize you're moving forward until years later, when you're telling the story to someone else and wondering how things might've turned out if you'd just gone home instead.