The Shadow Manager: The Girl Who Controls Shohoku Basketball Club - Personal Foul Named Jealousy

How many days had passed since that night I'd furiously scribbled down my feelings? I, Inoue Ayako, had been desperately trying to forget "it" by burying myself in my work as the manager. My special feelings for Ryota. The words of warning I'd scrawled in the margins of my notebook, meant for myself alone. *(A manager falling in love with a player — that's absolutely unacceptable.)* That was the ironclad rule I had imposed upon myself. After school. The sky had been blanketed since morning by heavy, drooping gray clouds. With the heavens looking ready to burst into tears at any moment, I clutched my binder to my chest and walked briskly along the covered walkway connecting the school building to the gymnasium. The humid air clung to my skin. A clammy breeze stirred the ends of my tied-up hair. Rain would start falling soon. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I had that premonition. It was when I reached the gymnasium entrance. A cold droplet hit my cheek with a soft *plink*. —It's started. The rain quickly became a downpour. Large drops of water formed dark stains on the dusty ground of the sports field. In the blink of an eye, the world was sealed off behind a gray curtain of rain. "What rotten luck..." I muttered quietly and pressed myself under the eaves. I'd planned to watch the voluntary practice in the gym and then prepare for the meeting, too. *Shhhhhhhhhhh.* The sound of rain, loud enough to block out everything else. *(...Maybe I should just call it a day.)* As I stared at the tips of my sneakers getting soaked, that weak thought was just beginning to surface — when it happened. "Haha! Seriously?! You forgot your umbrella?!" My feet were rooted to the ground by that familiar voice coming from the direction of the school gate. Mixed with the sound of the rain, I could hear several people laughing. Feeling my heart start to beat an ugly rhythm, I slowly turned my gaze toward the voices. Under the large roof of the school gate. Ryota stood there, surrounded by three female students. The piercing in his left ear glinted dully under the overcast sky. The petite girl standing closest to him was pressing her palms together apologetically. "I left my umbrella in the classroom!" "Leave it to me! My umbrella's huge. Just get under it!" As Ryota opened his big navy-blue umbrella, he casually placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. A light, familiar *pat* — a gesture full of friendliness. His hand on her shoulder. While laughing. Deep in my chest, I felt something make a sickening, squelching sound. *(...What is that.)* I realized my fingertips were trembling. No. It wasn't because of the cold. Something cold yet hot, thick and murky, began swirling right in the center of my chest. A violent impulse I had never felt before. *(Who is that girl? Why is he talking to her so happily? Why is he — touching her like that?)* Ryota was laughing with the same face he showed me. The face of a good-natured guy who can't leave someone in trouble alone. *(Right, I know that. Ryota is just being kind. He's just helping her because she's in trouble.)* My head understood that. And yet, why? My fingers, moving of their own accord, began to tremble minutely. I knew the name of this emotion. This was jealousy. The basketball I'd been holding slipped from my fingers and fell. *Thud... thud-thud-thud...* The hollow sound of a rubber ball bouncing on the wet asphalt. As if startled by that noise, Ryota lifted his head and started to look this way. I was already running. Clutching the binder to my chest, leaving the basketball behind where it lay. I had dashed out into the rain. "Huh... Ayako-san?!" Ryota's surprised voice chased after me from behind. But I couldn't turn around. If I turned around, if he saw me like this, I had no idea what might come bursting out. The cold rain mercilessly soaked my hair, my jersey, and even my heart. *(No, no, no!)* I'm not this kind of person. I'm supposed to be more level-headed, more methodical, someone who can act for the good of the team. And yet, my hands were shaking, and I felt like I was about to cry. ... I burst into the empty equipment room. On the steel shelves, balls, bibs, and cleaning supplies were neatly arranged. The familiar smell of rubber, sweat, and dust enveloped my trembling self. *Click.* I locked the door. A quiet space where the distant murmur of the gym and the sound of the rain were only faintly audible. My own little fortress. I leaned against the wall and slid down to sit on the floor. My wet jersey clung coldly to my skin. When I squeezed a lock of my rain-soaked hair, droplets fell *plink, plonk* onto the wooden floor. The scene from just moments ago wouldn't leave my mind. Ryota's smile. The hand placed on the girl's shoulder. Their cheerful voices. *(It's not like that. I was just—)* I tried to come up with an excuse, and then stopped. It *is* like that. I'm in love with Ryota. I've watched his play from the closest spot, I know he's struggling as the next captain, I know he's holding back the urge to complain. I genuinely want to support him. But that's not all. Somewhere in my heart, I wish that smile was directed only at me. With trembling hands, I took my secret notebook out of my pocket. The college-ruled notebook where I always record information about the players. It was a good thing I'd wrapped it tightly in a plastic bag to keep it from getting wet. I opened it to Ryota's page. There, his stamina data and tendencies for weak plays were recorded in my methodical handwriting. Now, the data I was writing there was different. I gripped my pen. My fingertips were still trembling. *'Today, emotional control failure. Cause is clearly Miyagi Ryota. Critical functional impairment as manager. Requires immediate countermeasures.'* The letters were shaky, a scrawl, the pen nib catching on the paper several times. Ugly handwriting, like worms crawling across the page. This isn't my notebook. *(What "countermeasures"? Ridiculous.)* The rational part of my brain sneered at me. What good does it do to write my emotions in a notebook and analyze them? Even so, I couldn't help but write. If I didn't write it down, objectify it, and turn it into a "problem" I could understand, it felt like this thick, murky heat would burn my heart to ashes. ... The next day. The sound of bouncing balls echoed through the gym. "Too slow! A pass like that is guaranteed to get intercepted in a real game!" My angry shout rang across the court. It was the moment Hanamichi fumbled a pass Ryota had thrown. Normally, I'd call out, "Don't mind, get the next one!" But the me right now was different. "If the opponent were a powerhouse school, they'd have scored on a fast break just now. And you intend to call yourself captain? How naive." The team members' movements stopped in an instant. Only the hollow sound of a rubber ball bouncing on the floor echoed, unnaturally loud. Mitsui-senpai was looking this way with a surprised face. Hanamichi's mouth hung open, and even Rukawa was frowning, which was rare for him. Ryota looked blank for a moment, then scratched his head sheepishly. "...My bad, Ayako-san. That one really was my fault." "As long as you understand. Continue." *(...Why.)* Why do you apologize so honestly? Why don't you talk back? It pisses me off. Pisses me off. Pisses me off! My heart was a complete mess. I know better than anyone that I'm taking it out on Ryota. Even though doing this won't make yesterday's scene disappear. Even though it won't make his smile mine alone. Captain Akagi quietly walked over. "[gentle, whispers]Ayako, aren't you being a little too harsh today? Ryota's working hard too. Did something happen?" "...After you retire, Captain, if he buckles under this much pressure, the team won't hold together. He needs to get used to it now." I answered without looking the captain in the eye. A logical reason. A plausible pretext. This is how I've always hidden my true feelings. The captain was silent for a moment, then let out a small sigh. "...I see. If you say so, it's not my place to interfere. Just... don't push yourself too hard, okay?" That kindness hurt right now. ... Practice ended. I stayed behind alone in the equipment room, checking the air pressure of the balls. I didn't want to see anyone. Especially not Ryota. *Rattle-bang!* Suddenly, the door burst open roughly. I hadn't locked it. "Ayako-san! You in here?!" A head of bright red hair came charging in. Sakuragi Hanamichi. His eyes were as fiery as ever, but today, he wore a strange expression — troubled, angry, and something else all at once. "What is it, Hanamichi? You could at least knock." "That's not it! Ayako-san, you've been crazy scary today!" My hands stopped dead. Hanamichi strode right into the equipment room and peered into my face. He smelled of sweat. "Did you do something to Ryota-senpai? Or did he do something to you? That senpai's dense, so he probably hasn't noticed, but..." He'd hit the nail on the head. He's an idiot. Simple-minded. But it's often guys like that who are strangely perceptive about the subtleties of the human heart. "That's none of your business! Instead of thinking about pointless things, go practice your dribbling! Your fundamentals are still lacking!" I got emotional and yelled back at him. A complete case of taking it out on someone else. I knew it myself. Hanamichi looked stunned for a second, then, unexpectedly, hung his head meekly. "...Yes, ma'am." His huge 188-centimeter frame shrinking like that looked just like a scolded large-breed dog, and it pained my heart a little. On his way out, Hanamichi murmured quietly. "When you ain't got no energy, Ayako-san, somehow I can't get into it either. Please come back to normal soon." *Slam.* The door closed. Silence returned to the equipment room. "...Even if it's none of your business, it's everyone's business, huh." Hanamichi's innocent, honest words lit a small flame in my frozen heart. That's right. My mood alone changes the atmosphere of the team. That's my role, and it should be my pride too. I'd almost lost sight of that because of my possessiveness over Ryota. *(First, I need to apologize.)* Not to Ryota. To myself. To the me who let her emotions get the better of her and neglected her work. And then, to Ryota. To say I'm sorry for taking it out on him. I closed my notebook and left the equipment room. ... It was already starting to get dark outside. The rain had stopped by morning, but the sky was still covered with damp clouds. Looking ready to burst into tears again at any moment. *(I wonder if Ryota is still here.)* I turned my steps toward the gym. If he was doing extra practice, I'd apologize there. I felt like I could talk calmly now. The covered walkway leading to the gym. The place where I had run through the rain yesterday. It was when I happened to look up. —I saw them. A small landing on the third floor of the school building, leading to the rooftop. On the other side of the large window glass. Against the backdrop of the sky sinking into twilight, the silhouettes of a boy and a girl. One was short, with a glinting earring. Miyagi Ryota. And the other — long, straight black hair reaching her waist. A large ribbon. Akagi Haruko. The two of them were facing each other, talking. They were too far away; I couldn't hear their voices. But I could see Ryota scratch his head in embarrassment. Haruko, her hands clasped in front of her chest, looking up at him with admiration in her eyes. That scene was beautiful and cruel, as if cut straight from a page of a shoujo manga. On the back of my eyelids, the memory of that day came flooding back. The sneer from middle school, when I was used by an upperclassman boy and thrown away as "just a convenient girl." *(Again.)* Inside my head, I heard the sound of something snapping cl

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Episode 3

Name: The Shadow Manager: The Girl Who Controls Shohoku Basketball Club
Author: Novelia

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