There's a time before the morning light spills across the ground—a dimly lit hour when the air is still cold and only bird calls echo through the emptiness. No one else around. Sakuragi Ren loved that time. It was one of the few moments when he could think of nothing but running. Last night, he'd thrown away the ice cream he'd bought for his left hand without ever eating it. Or rather—he'd never even gotten the chance to give it. That simple fact, for some reason, he still couldn't quite digest. *(Just run. You said the same thing yesterday. Today, actually think about nothing but running.)* He unlocked the club room, changed into his spikes, and headed out to the ground. He was there. One person had arrived before him. Near the first corner of the 400m track, sitting at the edge of the grass, methodically stretching. Silver short hair. Even in the pale light of a May morning, the color was unmistakable. Nanase Hinata. *(Why are you here first...)* Ren paused for just a second, debating internally. He could ignore him, warm up on the opposite side. But that would be strange. Childhood friends, same relay team, training together every day—ignoring him would be weird no matter how he looked at it. He should just go over normally. That was all. Ren arranged his face into something neutral and sat down beside him. Hinata glanced over with the corner of his eye. Said nothing. Ren said nothing either, just began his own stretches. Silence. The sand on the ground stirred slightly in the morning breeze. In the distance, the sound of a bicycle chain drifted from the direction of Namiki Slope. "Ren," Hinata said, opening his mouth. Ren's hands stopped for a moment. "[serious]Do you remember the first race we had on Namiki Slope?" He remembered. Of course he remembered. There was no way he could forget. Summer of fourth grade. Ren and Hinata raced from the bottom of Namiki Slope to the top, seeing who could get there first. Hinata was faster. Ren ran with everything he had, but Hinata pulled ahead halfway up, and by the time Ren reached the summit, he was seconds behind. He was frustrated. Ashamed. He cried. Actually cried. So much that he couldn't tell if it was sweat or tears. Hinata was laughing. Not in a mean way—just pure, genuine laughter. That was their origin. "[serious]I remember. I cried, and you laughed." Hinata was quiet for a moment. Then, keeping his gaze fixed on the distance—for just an instant, his expression softened. Not quite a smile. Just slightly warmer than usual. A faint shape of a smile at the corner of his mouth. That small mole near his lips moved just a little as he spoke. Something in Ren's chest jumped. *(Was that...maybe a chance? No, wait, calm down. He hasn't even said anything yet. What chance are you talking about? But that look on Hinata's face just now, it was different from usual—)* "[whispers]...It was easier back then." Ren caught himself before leaning forward. "We didn't have to think about anything." Hinata's gaze was no longer on him. He was looking vaguely at the sky beyond the track, beyond the ground. The wall had returned. That brief softness from a moment ago was gone. Ren opened his mouth. *What are you thinking about now?*—the words were right there, at the edge of his throat. He could have asked. But. *(If I ask, it'll break.)* He couldn't quite articulate what would break. But he felt like he shouldn't ask. If he made Hinata put into words what he was carrying right now, it would shatter something that existed here. Ren closed his mouth. "...Yeah." That was all he said. Hinata said nothing. Ren said nothing. They continued stretching. The words *it was easier back then* floated in the cold morning air, never quite disappearing. He didn't understand the meaning. What didn't they have to think about? What was Hinata thinking about now? Ren had no idea. *(This is so frustrating...seriously frustrating.)* Five minutes later, the other club members began arriving at the ground, and morning practice started. --- The baton pass practice was better than yesterday. That much was certain. The rhythm that had been off all through yesterday's practice was coming back a little today. Hinata's acceleration timing was becoming slightly closer to normal. But—it still wasn't perfect. Ren stood in position to receive the baton and tracked Hinata's takeoff with his eyes. Accelerating. Getting closer. Hand extending back. The baton— Made contact. Fingertip to fingertip, for just an instant, they overlapped. The moment of receiving the baton. Their hands touched all the time normally. But this morning, that sensation was far clearer than expected. Hinata's fingertips were warm. All thought drained from Ren's head. He almost dropped the baton. "[laughing]Sakuragi, you were totally looking away just now!?" Someone had seen. A club member who'd been assisting from the diagonal behind was laughing, holding his stomach. "[laughing]Your face is all red!!" "[serious]It's not red." It was red. He could feel it. His ears were burning. What was he supposed to do about this? "[laughing]It definitely is! You almost dropped the baton!" "[serious]I didn't drop it." "You almost dropped it, that's what I said!" Laughter spread. Ren was internally thinking *(why am I dealing with this first thing in the morning...),* but he called out that they'd do it again and headed back to the starting position. Hinata hadn't said anything. When Ren glanced over, he was facing forward. His ears seemed...a little red. Maybe it was just his imagination. *(It's probably just my imagination. Probably. And why am I even checking this hard?)* One more time. This time he'd actually concentrate. He received the baton. Their fingertips didn't touch. The handoff was clean. But somehow, it felt a little disappointing. *(Disappointing? What's wrong with me!!)* Ren was internally shouting at himself as he ran toward the next corner. Even after the laughter died down, the fact remained. The baton pass was better than yesterday, but still not perfect. It wasn't a technical problem—he understood that much. Their breathing still wasn't completely in sync. Running, he felt it gradually sinking in. Running as a team was a matter of trust. If he was thinking about Hinata before they even started running, the baton would never connect. --- Practice ended an hour and a half later. Coach Togawa gathered the members once, gave each of them brief feedback, then called for dismissal. As Ren headed toward the club room, a voice called from behind. "[serious]Sakuragi, got a minute?" Togawa Seiichiro was tall. At 45, he still maintained the build of a former corporate athlete. His way of speaking was quiet. But that quietness had a way of cutting through. Being told something quietly hurt far more than being yelled at. There were people like that. Togawa was one of them. Ren stopped. He was gestured toward the wall of the club room building. "[serious]You're the axis of this team." Short. Straight to the point. "[serious]If your mind isn't stable, it spreads to everyone. You understand?" He understood. Intellectually, he understood. "[serious]If something's wrong, tell me." He couldn't tell him. What would he say? That Hinata wouldn't leave his head and he almost dropped the baton? That he couldn't concentrate because of some miscommunication with his childhood friend? There was no way he could say that. Ren laughed. Reflexively. "[serious]I'm fine. There's just a part I haven't adjusted yet. I'll fix it." He said it with confidence. He thought it was a perfect smile. Togawa said nothing. He just looked straight into Ren's eyes. For three seconds. That was all. "[serious]...I see." He nodded and turned away. His back said it all. *I see right through you.* Without words, *I understand everything.* After Togawa went into the club room, Ren stood alone, staring at the wall of the building. A handwritten sign was posted there. "17 days until the prefectural preliminaries." It had been 21 days last week. The numbers kept shrinking. Mid-June, Minatohara City General Sports Park's athletics stadium—the venue for the Interleague prefectural preliminaries—was only 17 days away. Last year's second-place finish, that wound. This year, first place and on to the Tokai tournament—that was supposed to be everyone's goal. And yet, in Ren's head, Hinata's profile kept spinning around. *It was easier back then,* he'd said, looking away. *(I decided to think about nothing but running. What am I doing?)* His desire to run for the team was real. But the reality of his head being full of Hinata wouldn't disappear. That contradiction had been thrust directly in his face for the first time today. --- After classes ended, afternoon. The vending machine corner behind the main building still had shade at this time of day, and it was cool. Ren bought a sports drink and sat on a bench. 130 yen. Properly chilled. He took a sip. It tasted like something. But today, it felt like nothing mattered what he drank. Laughter came from behind. Three girls walking toward him. Girls from his class. They hadn't noticed him—or maybe they had, and were talking loud enough for him to hear on purpose. That happened sometimes. "Nanase and the transfer student Kajiwara were together again yesterday when they left." "Like, aren't they kind of a thing?" "I thought Nanase was always with Sakuragi, but lately they've been leaving separately." The three girls laughed as they passed. Ren didn't move. His right hand, gripping the can, gradually tightened. By the time he realized it, the sports drink can had dented slightly. Since it was aluminum and not plastic, it had deformed accordingly. Ren stared at that can. Dented. He'd dented it himself. He stood up toward the trash bin and threw the can in. Transfer student. Kajiwara Sota. That name grew larger in his head. The baton pass practice menu sheet already had Kajiwara Sota's name written on it. Tomorrow he'd officially join the relay team. Apparently he was fast. Having a fast person join the team was simply a good thing. And yet. Something in his chest felt unsettled. A strange sensation he couldn't quite put into words. He'd never met him. Didn't know his face. He'd only heard the name, and yet—what was this feeling? *(Jealousy.)* The word floated up in his mind. Ren immediately pushed it away. No. It wasn't that serious. He was just a little unsettled. It wasn't jealousy. Definitely not. The evening sea breeze blew from the direction of the ground. That distinctive Minatohara air, mixed with salt and tide. Ren took one deep breath of it and left the vending machine corner. --- Sakuragi house, second floor, six-mat bedroom. Staring at the ceiling, lying on his back on the bed. Beyond the window it was dark. The sea should be faintly visible past the roof, but it was cloudy tonight and hard to make out. Sitting on the bedside table. A small navy-blue charm. The cloth felt worn under his fingertips. His mother's keepsake. Given to him in third grade. "It's a charm," she'd said. Then she'd started to say something else but couldn't. Ren couldn't either. In his imagination, he could almost hear his mother's voice. *Be honest,* she would say. Probably. If that person had lived, he thought she'd say that. *(I know.)* He knew. If he was honest, something might move. If he asked Hinata "what are you thinking about now?" something might change. But. If he was honest, their current relationship might break. As childhood friends, as teammates, as two people who'd walked Namiki Slope together—something might break. Ren closed his eyes. He tried to think only of running. He traced the sensation of the 400m track in his mind. The acceleration off the start, the angle of the first corner, the sensation of his right hand receiving the baton— All that appeared behind his eyelids