The shuttlecock pierced the ceiling. Not literally. It just slammed into the fluorescent light cover in the gymnasium with tremendous force. Still, the sound of the cover's edge cracking echoed through the entire gym. Silence. Nearly forty classmates stared at her all at once. 相馬湖菜 stood frozen, still gripping her racket. Her pale amber eyes slowly lifted toward the ceiling. She confirmed the crack in the light cover. She'd confirmed it. "…I'm sorry." Someone snorted. Then another person laughed, and it spread like a chain reaction, the gym relaxing. That unique atmosphere—half sympathy, half mockery. 湖菜 knew it well. She created it every single PE class. It hadn't even been ten days since she'd entered Shiratori High School. Today's PE had started with a fifty-meter dash as a warm-up before volleyball serve practice. The moment she launched forward, her right foot caught on her left. She'd cut diagonally across her lane into the next one, apologized to the boy running there while landing—that was her first failure of the day. The second came during dodgeball warm-ups. The ball she'd thrown at the wall bounced back and hit her nose directly. And now, the third. Her volleyball serve had cracked the ceiling. The PE teacher's stern face was visible in the distance. (Again.) 湖菜 smiled wryly, feeling something small sink deep in her chest. They were laughing. Her classmates were laughing. She was trying to laugh it off too. But beneath that laughter, something wouldn't fade. Her younger brother Riku had made the city's soccer selection team. Her father had gone to the prefectural championships in track during high school. Her mother had been the captain of the volleyball team. In the Soma family, only she was different. She'd dribbled a basketball into her own foot and fallen. Her fifty-meter time was 9.8 seconds—the worst in her grade. Her grip strength was only eighteen kilograms. Her PE grade was a two out of five, and her homeroom teacher had said, "You seem like you could try a little harder." The fact that he couldn't say "much harder" instead of "a little" showed he understood her situation well enough. In the second half of class, 湖菜 sat against the wall with her knees drawn up. Someone dropped down beside her. "You coming today?" It was 笹野千尋. Her friend from middle school. In one word: "someone who can do anything." Tall, broad-shouldered, with short black hair that suited her perfectly. From doing track, her body had clean lines, and even the way she walked was different. Even the way she stopped moving looked athletic and crisp. When she smiled, her slightly protruding canines showed. It added a cute impression. "…Where?" "The second gymnasium." "What's there?" "The badminton club." 千尋 said it simply. It took 湖菜 three seconds to process the meaning. "…Me?" "Yeah." "Did you see today's PE?" "I saw." "I cracked the light." "Just put a crack in it." "Basically cracked it." 千尋 was quiet for a moment. You could tell from the side that she was holding back laughter. The corner of her mouth twitched slightly. "…Well, maybe." "And you still want to invite me?" "I do." It was immediate. 湖菜 looked at 千尋's face. 千尋 was looking straight ahead. The PE class continued in the distance. 千尋's profile wasn't her usual carefree expression. It was a little stiff. That bothered her. --- The moment 湖菜 stepped into the second gymnasium after school, she felt the air change. It smelled like dust. Old wood, damp. The blackened lines on the floor were clearly stained from long exposure. The afternoon sun streaming through the ceiling made the floating dust look like particles of light. It felt less like a gymnasium and more like somewhere older—an abandoned storage room, perhaps. That kind of silence. A banner hung on the wall. The colors had faded. The white letters on the white background were so sun-bleached they were barely readable. But you could still make them out: "43rd Interhigh Participation Commemorative Banner—Prefectural Shiratori High School Badminton Club." (Interhigh.) Miage City, located in Sagisumi Prefecture. According to the entrance pamphlet, Shiratori High School's badminton club was founded forty-five years ago. At its peak, it had competed at the Interhigh eight times—the highest stage in the country. Their best result was a semifinal finish. But that was twenty-seven years ago. The current number of club members was… according to 千尋, four people. Four. 湖菜 lowered her gaze from the banner. The gymnasium, spacious enough for two courts, was empty. She noticed cardboard boxes stacked in the corner and moved closer. Through the gaps, she could see trophy bases. Dust was packed into the seams of the lids. It had been a long time since they were put away. "Pretty impressive, right?" 千尋 appeared beside her. "…Is the club about to disband?" "If we don't join this year, the club can't compete in team tournaments next year." 千尋's voice had the same hardness as during PE today. "According to Sagisumi Prefecture's high school athletic association rules, if membership drops to three or fewer, you can't compete in official matches. Right now there are four, but one of the second-year seniors graduates next year, leaving three. If we join, that makes five. To avoid disbanding…" "Minimum membership, and prefectural top eight or better by next year." "You knew?" "Just heard it." 千尋 laughed bitterly. "Right. So I want you to come." 湖菜 thought for a moment. Out of habit from studying at her desk, she traced the seam of her skirt with her fingertips. Shiratori High's uniform was a white blouse, deep green ribbon, navy pleated skirt. Even though it'd only been ten days, the uniform already felt natural. Unlike so many other things that didn't fit her body. "You're good at sports though." "Yeah." "I cracked a light today." "Just put a crack in it." "千尋." "What?" "Are you actually listening?" 千尋 turned to face her. "I am. That's why I'm asking you to come." Her eyes were serious. Not the kind that laughed things off. When 千尋, who was usually so carefree, made that face, she was always genuinely serious. 湖菜 had learned that over three years of middle school. "I won't be any help." 千尋 paused for a moment. "Sometimes it matters more that you exist than whether you're useful." Her voice was quiet. In the dusty air of the gymnasium, those words sounded clear. 湖菜 couldn't say anything for a while. --- The club room was on the second floor of a prefab building behind the second gymnasium. When 千尋 slid open the door, a dim room of about twelve tatami mats appeared, untouched by sunlight. Once, this place must have been covered with certificates and trophies. Now cardboard boxes were stacked in the corner, and a whiteboard held what looked like tactical diagrams. A room where time had stopped without being erased. A single desk sat by the window. 千尋 pulled an application form from the drawer. "Write it." "…Do you have a pen?" "Here." 湖菜 picked up the pen on the desk. She uncapped it and pressed it to the paper. No ink came out. She clicked it. A dry rattle sounded from inside. "…It's empty." "Here." 千尋 pulled another pen from her pouch. 湖菜 took it. This one worked. She pulled the application form closer and began filling it out carefully from the address field. One of the desk's legs seemed to be slightly off the ground. It wobbled—clatter, clatter—with each stroke. The paper shifted. It shifted again with each correction. 千尋 watched intently. "…Are you concentrating?" "I am. The desk is bad." "Want me to hold it?" "I'm fine." She wasn't fine. When she reached the name field, the desk lurched particularly hard. What was supposed to be "相馬湖菜" came out with the "目" in "相" crushed, looking unmistakably like "柏." 湖菜 froze. "…'Kashiba Mizuki'?" 千尋 read it from the side. "…Does it read that way?" "It does." "I'll rewrite it." "There's no more paper." "…" 千尋 continued matter-of-factly. "湖菜, at least write your own name seriously." "The desk is bad." "I'll give you that. But your handwriting's too messed up." 千尋 laughed—this time without reservation, the way you laugh with a friend. 湖菜 returned a wry smile. Still laughing, she gripped the pen firmly and carefully traced over the "相" character. It came out a bit thicker, but now it was at least readable as "相馬湖菜." When she handed it to 千尋, 千尋 nodded. "Approved." --- They returned to the gymnasium after receiving the copy of the application. On the way out, she glanced through the window. The cultural district in the northern part of Miage City had few people at this hour. One slope down led to residential areas, and another ten minutes' walk brought you to the Kagami River's banks. Dusk was beginning. The sky was turning orange. 湖菜's feet stopped as she crossed the gymnasium. A photograph hung on the wall. She hadn't noticed it. When she'd arrived, the cardboard boxes and banner had caught her attention. It was an old group photo. Club members lined up in a row. The uniforms were the same design as now, and some held badminton rackets. Everyone looked slightly proud. 湖菜 moved closer. At the edge of the photo, one person stood slightly apart. A man. Young. High school or college age. While all the other members faced the camera, this person looked slightly to the side. His gaze wasn't on the camera but somewhere else. Like he was looking into the distance. (I've seen…) She felt like she'd seen him before. 湖菜 furrowed her brow. Where had she seen him? The entrance ceremony? No, that wasn't it. Besides, this was an old photo. She didn't know how many years old, but it was clearly taken long ago. Yet somehow. Why did she feel like she knew him? "湖菜, let's go." 千尋's voice. 湖菜 tried to look away from the photo but couldn't. Just one more second, just one more second, she thought, staring at the man's profile. She was trying to confirm something, but she didn't know what. It just nagged at her. "湖菜?" "…Sorry, coming." She shook her head slightly and left the gymnasium. --- Back in her room that night, 湖菜 placed the application copy on her desk. Passing through the hallway, she'd seen her younger brother Riku's practice clothes on the clothesline. Mud on them. He must have had practice today. She heard her father's voice and Riku's laughter from the living room. They were talking about soccer. The Soma family dinner table usually went that way. 湖菜 quietly entered her own room. She looked at the copy. The "相" in "相馬湖菜" was slightly thicker. The trace of correction remained. Her awkward name, which had almost become "柏馬湖菜." 湖菜 sat in her chair and looked out the window. Miage City at night was quiet. Lights from the residential area scattered in the distance. Cloudy—no stars visible. (Why did I stop?) Just before leaving the gymnasium, she'd definitely stopped. Drawn to the photograph like a magnet. She didn't know why. The feeling that she'd seen that profile before had no basis. She'd only been here ten days. The adults she'd met on campus were her homeroom teacher, subject teachers, and the principal. How old would the person in the photo be now? If it was more than ten years old, they'd be in their thirties or forties by now. Staring at the lights outside, 湖菜 thought of something else. That gymnasium's smell had reminded her of something. The smell of dust. Old flooring. The weight of time no longer used. She didn't know what it reminded her of yet. But she definitely knew that smell. Not quite nostalgia. Not quite fear. Just something she'd smelled before. She started to put the copy away, then hesitated and left it on the desk instead. The correction mark in "柏馬湖菜" caught the fluorescent light slightly. Tomorrow, she'd go back to that gymnasium. She didn't know yet if she was looking forward to it. Anxiety came first. Today's PE class flashed through her mind. The fifty-meter dash, volleyball, basketball. The sound of th