Fourteen days until the prefectural preliminaries. Last night, burying his face in his pillow and overthinking everything, Sakuragi Ren was already exhausted by morning. Still, his body climbed Namiki Slope of its own accord. The sound of his shoe soles striking the stone pavement was the only thing that drowned out the unnecessary noise in his head. (He's coming today. Kajiwara Sota.) Every time the name rolled through his mind, his chest stirred with an unsettling flutter. They'd never met. And yet, before even meeting him, Sota had already become an oddly large presence in Ren's world. He arrived at the grounds just after three in the afternoon. The May afternoon light glared off the white lines of the track. The sea breeze peculiar to Minatoura rustled the cherry leaves along the edge of the grounds. "Ooooey!! Sakuragi!!" A loud voice cut through the air. Turning around, Ren saw a man standing at the entrance to the grounds—black hair with red mesh streaks, flashy and striking. He was slightly taller than Ren. Golden eyes gleamed brilliantly, and a small mole sat at the corner of his mouth. He waved with a full-force smile. (So that's... Kajiwara Sota.) Before Ren could react, the surrounding team members all cried out at once. "Sota's here!!" "Finally!" "We've been waiting!" Despite not having spoken to him once until yesterday, everyone was calling him "Sota-kun." Sota responded to each of them with a smile—"Thanks for having me!"—as he entered the grounds. "[excited]Man, I saw everyone's names in the group chat and memorized them all. Doesn't feel like we're meeting for the first time, you know? Feels like I've been indebted to you guys for a while now" Everyone laughed. Ren laughed too. He was slightly surprised that he could laugh. He wasn't a bad guy. Rather, there was something about him that made Ren's instincts say, "I can't direct hostility at this person." That, paradoxically, was what made him slightly troublesome for Ren. --- Warm-up began. Sota melted into the relay team's circle with a naturalness that belied it being his first day. Ren kept glancing at Sota's movements while running. During a break in practice, Sota positioned himself beside Hinata. He placed a hand on his shoulder—*pon*—a natural gesture. Completely thoughtless, just casual and light. "[excited]Nanase, your running form is beautiful. Your arm swing especially. Let me use that as reference" Hinata's gaze shifted slightly away, and the tips of his ears flushed a pale red. "[serious]...It's nothing special, really" Ren's smile froze for an instant. (That's what I couldn't say.) Before practice, he'd tried to say "Your form is beautiful"—how many times had he opened his mouth to say it? Every time, the words caught in his throat. He'd been held back by stupid thoughts: what if he seemed weird? What if sudden praise came across as creepy? And Sota had done it on his first day, as naturally as breathing. Moreover, Hinata's ears were red. Ren rearranged his expression into something neutral and returned to the starting position. In his head, the image of Sota's hand on Hinata's shoulder was already looping for the third time. --- When heading back to the club room after practice, Sota smoothly handed a towel to Hinata. He'd pulled it from his own bag and offered it without a word—not "you dropped this" or "wipe your sweat"—just a silent, fluid gesture. Hinata accepted it with a "thanks." Ren watched the scene from three meters behind. (How did he even notice he'd dropped it?) Then he entered the club room. He opened his locker and started changing. The room was as it always was. On the wall: a handwritten countdown reading "14 days until the prefectural preliminaries." An old, worn sofa. A wall lined with photographs. Laughter from team members drifting in from outside. From the adjacent locker area, a voice reached him. A small voice. Hushed, like a whisper. "...You serious? Kajiwara confessed to Nanase?" Ren's hands stopped. He froze mid-button, his shirt half-unbuttoned. "What did Nanase say?" "Who knows. But if he didn't turn him down..." The rest of the voice faded from his ears. Or rather—it didn't. He heard it all. Every word. But his brain refused to process it. He placed his right hand on the locker door. The cold steel was the only thing that felt real. His legs trembled in small, rapid shakes. (Stop. Stand still. If anyone sees—) The scene from practice replayed again. The moment Sota's hand touched Hinata's shoulder. The moment he handed over the towel. The moment Hinata's ears turned red—it all came rushing back with new meaning. Slowly, he closed the locker. He pressed his lips together and steadied his breathing. Nothing showed on his face. Nothing could show. "Sakuragi!" A bright voice flew at him. It was Sota. He'd finished changing, had a towel draped over his shoulders, and was facing Ren directly with a smile. There wasn't a shred of malice in those golden eyes. "[excited]Tomorrow after school, wanna do some voluntary relay baton practice? We're the second and third runners, right? I want to get our timing down early" Ren looked at Sota's face. Those were the eyes of someone genuinely thinking about the team. No calculation, no hidden agenda. Just straightforward—"I want to make this team better." (How could I possibly refuse that?) Ren, who'd spent so long using "for the team" as his own words, found himself agreeing to voluntary practice with the man who might be Hinata's confession recipient—all in the name of the team. The sheer irony of it made him want to scream internally. But what came out of his mouth was: "[serious]Yeah, let's do it" That was all. --- The next afternoon, at Minatoura City General Athletic Park's track and field stadium. Twenty minutes by bicycle from Harukaze High. An eight-lane all-weather urethane track—one of the prefecture's best-equipped facilities. The stands were empty, with only the sound of wind and distant traffic. Coach Togawa had come along. A PE teacher and former corporate athlete, forty-five years old. He stood in the stands with his arms crossed, silently holding a stopwatch. First, they measured Sota's 100-meter time. The acceleration from the starting block was clean. His arm swing was large, his stride extending naturally. As he crossed the finish line, Sota turned back. Togawa checked the stopwatch. When Ren heard the time, his mind went white for a moment. It was almost exactly the same as his own. "[surprised]Seriously?" Sota laughed—happily, but with a hint of embarrassment. Ren replied, "You're fast." His voice came out normally. Probably sounded normal. Next came baton practice. The way Sota received the baton was—good. His approach to the takeover zone, his acceleration timing, the way he extended his hand. All of it was somehow just right. He hadn't been instructed, hadn't practiced it repeatedly, and yet. He seemed to be moving on pure instinct. Three attempts, three perfect handoffs. "Sota." Togawa spoke. His voice was quiet. But Ren knew that weight better than anyone. "[serious]You're a natural relay runner" Sota responded cheerfully, "Thank you!" Ren listened to those words with a smile on his face. (...A natural relay runner.) For the first time, a black emotion churned in his chest. It didn't translate into words easily, but it was unmistakably there. Running was everything to Ren. He wasn't exceptionally good at studying. He couldn't tell interesting stories or make people laugh. The only thing that was truly his was the time he'd carved out—running up Namiki Slope every morning at full sprint, adjusting baton angles hundreds of times, grinding himself into the track. And Sota had caught up on his first day. Moreover, Togawa had called him "natural." (Not just Hinata. Even my place here.) While watching Sota run, Ren kept nodding. "That's amazing," "You've got real talent," he said aloud. It was the truth, so it wasn't a lie. But with each word, the weight in his chest grew heavier. --- He got home and collapsed onto his bed. Outside the window was darkness. The sea should have been barely visible beyond the roofline, but tonight it wasn't. He opened his phone. He searched for Sota's SNS account. It came up immediately. The follower count was unbelievable for someone on his first day of transfer. Photos lined the feed. First—a photo of him laughing on the grounds after practice. Hinata was beside him. Second—in front of Everymart Okanonue Store. The convenience store sign was in the background. Hinata was beside him. Third—a photo against the sunset. The direction of Minatoura Harbor. The two of them standing on the breakwater. He checked the comments. A few from teammates. "You two look great together!" "So close~" "Already best friends lol" Ren stared at the screen, unable to think anything at all. It wasn't so much that his head went blank—it was more like something heavy had settled on his chest, making it hard to breathe. The whispered voices from the club room came back. *If he didn't turn him down...* Sota's hand on Hinata's shoulder came back. The moment he handed over the towel came back. Togawa's voice saying "natural relay runner" came back. It all layered on top of each other, and something inside Ren became a mess. He turned his phone face-down on the bed. He buried his face in the pillow. Then—he screamed, silently. A soundless scream. Just pushing all his breath out, forcing it up from his core. So no one could hear, pressing his face into the pillow until it crumpled. After a while, he lifted his face. He looked out the window. A light was on in the direction of the Nanase house. The thought crossed his mind—Sota might be over there right now. The moment that thought arrived, Ren wrapped his arms around the pillow and simply closed his eyes. (I have to run up Namiki Slope tomorrow.) I have to hand off the baton. I have to lead the team with a smile. I have to stand beside Sota and pretend our breathing is in sync. A navy-blue charm sat on his pillow—his mother's keepsake. Ren didn't reach for it. If he did, something might break tonight. Tonight, he had zero will to run. Just in the darkness of his room, the countdown—fourteen days until the prefectural preliminaries—ticked quietly on in his mind.