The last page of the notebook still had blank space. Several days had passed since then. The hastily scrawled words she'd seen in the warehouse——"If my knees hold"——those four characters kept surfacing at the edge of her mind during practice, in unguarded moments. Every time she tried to find an answer, the sensation of tumbling into a place where no answer existed. 相馬湖菜 decided, for now, to set that sensation aside on a shelf. Right now, moving her feet came first. Teaching her body what her head had understood. The air in the second gymnasium was the same as always. Dust and sweat mixed together, with just a hint of metal in the smell. The evening sun slanted across the floor joints, making the space of two courts look slightly narrower than usual. A fan rotated with a low hum. Summer was still ahead, but it was the season where sweat beaded on your forehead the moment you moved. "Here we go." 千尋 tossed the shuttlecock high. 湖菜 took her stance with the racket. In her mind, she divided the court into sixteen squares. Where was she now. Where was 千尋. Where would the shuttlecock fall——. Square nine. Her feet wouldn't move. The shuttlecock passed to 湖菜's right and fell to the floor. "…I was thinking." "Again?" "I was actually thinking." 千尋 said it with a straight face. "Are you practicing being invisible?" "…No." "You just stood there for three shots straight." "I know." She gripped the racket again. Her palm was slick with sweat. In her head, the sixteen squares moved smoothly. The shuttlecock's trajectory, its landing point, where she should go——she could see it all. She could see it, but her feet wouldn't go there. Even when her brain sent the signal, her body wouldn't say yes. (I know. I know, but——) How many days had it been since practice started. She understood the theory. The notebook where she'd written down 雨宮's explanations was already on its third page. But every time she stepped on the court, her body turned to stone. 千尋, standing beside her, was steadily learning the movements. Her serve was getting more accurate, rhythm building into her footwork. You could see her core, trained through track and field, gradually adapting to badminton. She didn't have that. The next shot. This time for sure——the moment she thought it, her racket cut through empty air. The shuttlecock soared easily over 湖菜's left shoulder. (Again.) She lowered the racket. Looked at the floor. She noticed she was gripping the handle too tightly. Her knuckles had gone white. ——That's when the gymnasium's sliding door opened with a sound. The metal rail creaked. Evening light cut a rectangle across the floor. A silhouette stood in the backlight. A racket bag slung over one shoulder. Tall. Around 163 centimeters. Reddish-purple hair waved loosely below her shoulders, catching the evening light and taking on a brownish tint. Deep violet eyes swept across the dim gymnasium. Her expression was bright. The corners of her mouth turned up in a friendly smile. But 湖菜's eyes caught something in the depths of those eyes, just for a moment. Only her eyes weren't smiling. "Um——is this the badminton club's practice space?" Her voice was soft. Polite, but somehow casual. 雨宮 looked up from his notebook. His gray eyes regarded the newcomer for one second. "It is." "I'd like to join the club." "Why." There was a brief pause. "Because it would be a problem if the club got disbanded." 雨宮 returned his gaze to the notebook. "Locker's the third from the back. Go change." "…Yes." That was all. No words of welcome, no request for introductions. She came. She was joining. Go change. It was complete in those exchanges. 千尋 whispered to 湖菜. "Does the teacher always do this?" "Yeah." "Finishing it in one sentence is a talent." 湖菜 smiled a little. But her gaze was directed toward the door leading to the changing room. "Because it would be a problem if the club got disbanded." The way she'd chosen those words caught slightly. She wasn't lying, 湖菜 thought. But it wasn't just that either. ——A few minutes later, 葵 returned to the court. Racket in hand, she stood naturally in the center of the court. Just from her stance, you could tell. The position of her center of gravity. The way her feet were spaced. The angle of her racket hand. All of it was different from 湖菜's or 千尋's. It was the natural posture of a trained body. "May I hit a few?" "Do what you want." 葵 tossed the shuttlecock lightly. The air in the gymnasium seemed to change. Not a smash——a control shot. A low, sharp drop that fell right at the edge of the court. Then a clear. Rising high and soft, deep into the back of the court. The next instant she was already at the net, a hairpin shot just barely over the net. The arc of the shuttlecock's trajectory was clear to 湖菜's eyes. The landing point. The square where she'd land. Where the return would go. She could see it all, but she couldn't get there. 湖菜 stood motionless, tracking 葵's shots with her eyes. 千尋 murmured. "…That's bad." "Yeah." "The level's different." "She was apparently top eight in the district tournament in middle school." "Top eight…would our club even be able to play against her?" "Not even close." She said it honestly. 千尋's face said "yeah, that's right." 雨宮 closed his notebook and stood. "湖菜. Rally with 葵. You don't have to hit it. Just focus on reading." 湖菜 entered the court with her racket. She faced 葵. A 163-centimeter frame. Reddish-purple hair. Deep violet eyes looking straight at 湖菜. "Thank you for having me." "The pleasure's mine." 葵 tossed the shuttlecock. The first shot——back of the court. Got it. Second shot——net front. Got it. Third shot——right side. Got it. Her body wouldn't move. She was just watching everything. But 湖菜's mouth was moving slightly. She was saying the landing points without speaking. Back left. Front right. Center. Almost all of them were right. Fourth, fifth, sixth——seventh shot. "Stop." 雨宮 raised his hand. The rally stopped. 葵, still holding the shuttlecock, slowly turned to look at 湖菜. Her eyes narrowed with curiosity. "You were calling them all out." "…I was just putting it into words. I'm not actually hitting them." "I know." A short affirmation. 雨宮 said just that and left the court to take notes. He walked toward the whiteboard. In that gap, 葵 turned back to face 湖菜. "You can see everything but can't hit it?" 湖菜 found it hard to answer and let her gaze drop slightly. "I can see it, but——" "I'm jealous." Her voice was quiet. 湖菜 looked up. 葵 was still looking at her. Smiling. A friendly, soft smile. But the weight of those words didn't match the smile. Jealous. 湖菜 didn't yet understand what that word meant. But something——something felt packed behind those words. Silence fell between them. "This is getting pretty poetic, huh." 千尋 called out from outside the court. 葵 turned back and smiled a little. 湖菜 returned a wry smile. The air between them loosened. But deep in 湖菜's chest, 葵's word "jealous" remained caught, unresolved. Warmth and unease at the same time. A restless feeling. --- Midway through practice, the three of them continued rallying while 湖菜 kept tracking 葵's shots with her eyes. Fast. Accurate. Using the court wide. Even as 千尋 chased desperately, 葵's returns were always half a step ahead. But——. 湖菜's brows drew together slightly. Deep in the right back of the court. When a return to that spot became necessary, 葵's racket angle wavered, just barely. The landing point shifted slightly. Not just once. Every time the same situation repeated, it happened in the same place, the same way. 千尋 didn't notice. She kept moving at full speed, continuing the rally. 雨宮 ran his marker across the whiteboard, saying nothing. Couldn't he see it. Or was he seeing it but saying nothing. 葵 returned to her smile immediately after the waver. Moving to the next shot as if nothing had happened. That transition was so natural it stood out instead. Three times it repeated. A return to the right back. A waver. A smile. (I saw it.) 湖菜 carved it into memory. 葵's shot breaking down, and the smile that came right after. Lined up on the same page. "Is your rhythm consistent when you pick up the shuttlecock? 葵?" It was an abrupt question. 葵 tilted her head while picking up a shuttlecock. "…What do you mean?" "I just thought there might be a rhythm. Musically." "Maybe." "Seems like it. Like, tan, tan, tan." "…I don't really get it." 湖菜 listened to their exchange and felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. 千尋's completely different angle of observation lightened the mood. This was the skillful part about 千尋 as a person. Whether it was intentional, 湖菜 could never quite tell. Practice wound down and 千尋 and 葵 headed to the changing room. Only 湖菜 and 雨宮 remained in the gymnasium. 湖菜 put her racket back in its case, then glanced once toward the warehouse. That notebook was still under the cardboard boxes. The scrawl "If my knees hold" was still there. ——She entered the warehouse. Pulled the door. The smell of dust. A dim space. She moved the boxes aside and took out the old university notebook. Opened the last page. The scrawl. "If my knees hold." Four characters. 湖菜 confirmed it, then closed the notebook and returned it to its place. Stacked the boxes back. Back in the gymnasium, 雨宮 was in front of the whiteboard. He seemed to be drawing diagrams of 葵's shot trajectories, the marker sliding across the surface. 湖菜 hesitated for a moment, then walked to 雨宮's side. She placed the notebook on the whiteboard stand. "Did you write this?" 雨宮 stopped. He looked at the notebook for a few seconds. 湖菜 kept her gaze on his profile, waiting. "Found it in the warehouse." "Yes." 雨宮 capped his marker. Then he tapped the notebook's cover lightly with his fingertip. Tapped, or rather, confirmed——that's what the touch was. "Competed in the All Japan Championship. Placed third in singles." His voice was like reading a weather report. "At twenty-four, I tore my anterior cruciate ligament in my right knee. Had surgery, but couldn't return to competition. Retired." It felt like there was more coming, so 湖菜 said nothing. But nothing came. 雨宮 just said that and turned back to the whiteboard. Glory and loss lined up at the same temperature. (Third place. All Japan, third place.) The All Japan Championship——the national tournament hosted by the Japan Badminton Association. Over three thousand participants a year, with pros, top university players, corporate team athletes all competing. The top eight were called "medalists." Third place in that. He'd lost that, and 雨宮 had spoken about it in the same voice as now. No counterargument came. No comfort. Nothing came out. She couldn't say anything. Whatever she said wouldn't reach the weight that voice carried. Silence fell over the gymnasium. The evening sun tilted lower, the yellow on the floor deepening. Only the fan's sound remained. "Did you see 葵's returns to the right back today?" The topic shifted. Abruptly, but naturally. 雨宮 pointed to a spot on the whiteboard with his finger. "I saw it." "Where and how did it break down." "Her racket angle closes slightly, just a bit. Same timing all three times." 雨宮 uncapped his marker. Drew an arrow on the whiteboard. Exactly where 湖菜 had indicated. "…I see." The corner of his mouth moved slightly. That was all. But 湖菜 felt like she was seeing that movement for the first time today. 雨宮 turned back to the whiteboard. Short black hair with silver mixed in. Gray eyes in profile. 湖菜's gaze naturally dropped lower. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot——. The landing was shallow. Favoring it. Right knee. It was the same today. During practice, when walking, always. But now it carried a different weight than before. "Tore my anterior cruciate ligament." "Couldn't return to competition." Knowing those w