Kona Soma can't throw a ball without hitting someone, can't run without tripping over her own feet, and somehow managed to crack a fluorescent light fixture during volleyball practice—on only her tenth day of high school. In a family of athletes, she's always been the odd one out, the girl whose P.E. grade tells the whole story.
So when her effortlessly talented best friend Chihiro invites her to join the badminton club, Kona's first instinct is to laugh it off. But the second gymnasium holds m
The Sound of Wings - A Journey to Nationals - Use your brain—the advisor is awake while still asleep.
The "So" in Soma on the club registration form was still a little too thick.
Pedaling her bicycle, Kona kept coming back to that. Her own name, with the correction marks still on it. The clumsy registration form that had almost become "Kashiwama Kona." That night she'd ended up leaving it on her desk, unable to sleep, and before she knew it, it was morning.
What bothered her more was the profile in the photograph.
An old group photo pinned to the gymnasium wall. While every other club member faced the camera, one young man alone was looking slightly off to the side. She felt like she'd seen him somewhere, but she'd gone home without ever confirming it.
(Who was that?)
Shiratori High's school building came into view atop the hill. The morning light reflected off the window glass, a little blinding. The April air was still chilly, and when she picked up speed on her bike, the wind hit her cheeks.
Chihiro's words from yesterday were still spinning around in a corner of her mind, too.
"More than whether you're an asset, there are times when just being there matters more."
No matter how many times she turned it over, she couldn't quite digest it. Was she happy? Was it complicated? Even she didn't really know.
---
"You're late."
Chihiro was already waiting in the hallway in front of the second gymnasium. In her Shiratori High uniform with the dark green ribbon, she was crouched down with her gym bag on her knees. The moment she spotted Kona, she stood up and promptly put her hand on the door.
"I'm not late. I'm right on time."
"Not on time. Three minutes over."
"You were counting?"
"By feel."
The door slid open.
The same smell of dust as yesterday. Old flooring and air that was somehow damp. Instead of the evening sun, thin morning light streamed in, and the dust that had been stirred up drifted slowly through it. The empty space, big enough for two courts, was quiet in a way that seemed to swallow human voices.
Someone was by the window.
Sitting on a pipe chair, a paperback open on his knees. Short black hair mixed with silver. His gray eyes were fixed on the page, and he didn't look up even when the two of them entered. He wore a thin jacket over a shirt that looked like a Shiratori High teacher's, but somehow the impression was less that he belonged to this space and more that he'd simply been set down there by chance.
He was tall. About five-ten, maybe. Even seated, his posture was good, but there was a looseness somewhere, and it was hard to tell whether he was relaxed or simply composed.
"Um, excuse me."
No reply. Only the sound of a page turning.
Chihiro looked at Kona. Kona looked at Chihiro.
"Excuse me!"
"...I heard you."
A low, flat voice. He didn't look up. Still reading, he gave just that one reply.
"Racket experience?"
"None, for either of us. I'm Kona Soma, and this is Chihiro Sasano. We submitted our registration forms yesterday."
"A hundred practice swings. We'll talk after that."
That was all he said before returning to his book.
Chihiro nudged Kona's shoulder. "Rackets. Over there," she said with her eyes. Against the wall was a rack—she hadn't noticed it yesterday, but several practice rackets were leaning there. Kona took one and held it.
Light. Much lighter than she'd expected. But she had no idea how to hold it. The only thing she could guess was that you were supposed to grip the handle part.
"Um, sir?"
"What."
"It's our first day, so I was wondering about, like, cake, or a welcome mood, or..."
"Eating and drinking are prohibited in the gymnasium. If cake cream gets on the court floor, the slip resistance changes. If oil gets on shuttle feathers, the balance is thrown off. Hold your welcome party outside."
He said it all flatly, without lifting his eyes from the book. Chihiro answered with a meek "...Okay."
Kona whispered to Chihiro. "Is he really our advisor?"
Chihiro whispered back. "Apparently."
"Really?"
"I said apparently."
---
Watching Chihiro's practice swings, Kona honestly thought she was good. There was rhythm. No wasted motion in the way she swung her arm. Her body's axis barely wavered. The core she'd built through track and field must have been showing itself here.
The problem was Kona.
First swing. The moment she swung the racket, her hips gave out. She nearly hit the fluorescent light, yanked the racket back in a panic, and this time hit her own ankle. It hurt.
Second swing. This time she was careful. It turned into a swing like slow motion.
Third swing. "Guess that's about right"—the moment she put a little force into the downswing, the grip slipped clean out of her hand.
The racket flew in a straight line toward the wall.
Clang.
It hit the prefab wall and dropped to the floor. Silence.
"..."
Chihiro turned around. Her eyes were narrowed. It was the face of someone holding back laughter.
"Kona, you're a deadly weapon."
"I know."
"Regrip before someone dies."
Without looking up from his book, he said it flatly, as always. Kona went to pick up the racket, blushing. In the corner of her vision, Chihiro's shoulders were shaking in small bursts. She was laughing.
The fourth swing fell apart too. The fifth was a whiff. On the sixth, the racket flew all the way to the opposite wall. It went farther than before.
"Your distance improved."
"I can't tell if that's evolution or devolution."
But amid all that chaos, there was something Kona hadn't noticed.
Shinya Amemiya had, at some point, lifted his face from the paperback.
The book was still on his knees. The page was still open. But his gaze was no longer there. His gray eyes were quietly watching Kona. His expression hadn't changed. Still unsociable, still curt. Only his eyes had begun to follow something.
Kona swung again. Her axis broke down. But—her gaze flicked, just for an instant, to the wall where the racket had flown. Before it even flew, she was already looking at where it would land. She couldn't hit. But she knew where it would fall.
Inside Amemiya, something caught, quietly.
---
"Come here."
The voice came suddenly. Kona and Chihiro turned at the same time. Amemiya was closing his paperback. He stood from the chair. When he rose, there was a slight motion of drawing his right knee back a beat late, but Kona didn't miss that moment—or rather, the unnaturalness of it had entered her vision on its own.
"Soma."
"Y-yes."
She was about to fall into her habit of talking fast when nervous, so she deliberately answered slowly. Amemiya reached for a machine placed in the corner of the gym. It was old, its surface a little rusted. A shuttle machine—practice equipment that automatically fires shuttles—Kona understood. Amemiya turned it on. A low hum started.
"Close your eyes."
"...What?"
"Close them. I'll fire ten. Point to where they'll land. You don't need the racket."
Chihiro made a face that said, "Wait, what kind of punishment game is this?" She didn't say it out loud, but it was written all over her expression. To Kona, it sounded like nothing but a punishment game, too.
But there was zero trace of a joke in Amemiya's voice, so Kona closed her eyes.
It went dark. The hum of the gym, the moment she closed her eyes, sounded louder. The feel of the floor came up through the soles of her feet. She could tell she was standing somewhere a little slippery.
There was a swish—the sound of air being cut.
Kona's right hand moved. The right rear of the court, diagonally back. Her finger pointed.
Clack—the shuttle hit the floor.
Twenty centimeters off from where she'd pointed.
Second. This time front left. She pointed. Clack. Fifteen centimeters off.
Third. Right again. This time thirty centimeters from where she'd pointed. Missed.
Fourth, fifth. Kona focused on the sound. The sound of a shuttle cutting air differed subtly depending on the angle. The faster it was, the sharper; the slower, the softer. Onto that overlapped the three-dimensional image of the court she'd burned into her eyes when she'd entered the gym yesterday. The height of the ceiling, the distance to the walls, the way the light came in. Behind her closed eyelids was a three-dimensional map of the gymnasium.
Sixth, seventh. The margin of error shrank.
Eighth—this time it landed almost directly beneath where she'd pointed.
Chihiro's breathing changed. The "punishment game" face from before was gone. Her eyes were a little round.
Ninth. Missed. Tenth, hit again.
"Open your eyes."
Kona opened her eyes. It was bright. Shuttles were scattered all over the floor.
"...Huh?"
Chihiro let out a small sound. "Wait, this—" she started, then stopped. Her face looked like "Is this ESP?" was about to follow, but what came out was "...What just happened?"
Amemiya was silent for a while.
For several seconds, he truly said nothing. His gray eyes looked back and forth between the shuttles scattered on the floor and Kona. Just watching. The silence stretched a little long, and Kona began to wonder if she'd done something wrong.
"...Sir?"
Amemiya took a step forward, into the space directly in front of Kona. The distance closed. When a five-ten man stood in front of her, the difference in build became a physical reality. It wasn't so much being looked down on as the sense of being looked at seriously.
"Are you clumsy?"
"...Yes. Pretty bad."
"Then use your brain to make up for it."
His voice was as low and flat as ever. It wasn't a scolding. It wasn't comfort. It was simply said, as if confirming. It sounded like a report.
"Your eyes see the entire court."
Kona couldn't say anything.
It wasn't a denial—she understood that. But it wasn't praise either. Being told she had "something" was probably the first time in her life, and the outline of that "something" was still blurry, and she couldn't quite receive it.
Something moved slowly, deep in her chest. A faint, spreading sensation. She couldn't tell if it was joy or pressure.
"Take the racket."
"Ah, yes."
Kona regripped the racket. When she gripped the handle the same way as before, Amemiya silently moved behind her.
Standing at Kona's back, Amemiya placed his hand over her right hand.
It was a quiet motion. No force behind it. Just, as if checking the angle, Amemiya's hand settled softly over Kona's hand on the grip. His fingertips shifted her grip slightly. A motion that said, "Not here—put the pressure point here," a purely instructional gesture.
Amemiya's expression and voice didn't change in the slightest.
Kona's breathing stopped for just a moment.
Amemiya's hand was certain. Even without force, it felt like she could tell directly through her skin where to apply pressure. A big hand, she thought. She didn't know why she thought that. She just did.
"...Um, ah, um—"
Meaningless words came out. She started talking fast. Her habit of speeding up when nervous had activated at the worst possible timing.
"What."
"...The gym is cold, isn't it."
"...It's April."
"Right. April."
"There's no air conditioning."
"Right, no air conditioning."
Amemiya quietly let go.
A meter away, Chihiro was watching the two of them. Racket tucked under her arm, saying nothing. She had an "ah" face. Mouth slightly open, only her gaze moving.
Kona faced forward and looked at her own right hand.
The way she held the grip was different from before. It was hard to explain what had changed, but something definitely had.
---
By the time practice ended, it was already quite bright outside.
Amemiya was walking toward the gymnasium exit. Picking up shuttles, Kona found herself following his gait with her eyes.
Something was off.
The way his right foot stepped was subtly different from his left. The angle at which he put his weight was a little shallow. He was unconsciously trying to keep his stride even, but only at the moment of the right step did his landing become just slightly cautious.
He was injured—or a past injury remained.
Kona had made that observation without even realizing it herself. The eyes that r
Novelia is an AI-powered platform to read original light novels and fan fiction, create your own in just a few taps, and chat with the characters. New, illustrated episodes arrive daily — free to start.