By the time they finished picking up all the shuttlecocks, the sounds of club activities were already drifting in from outside the gymnasium. The soccer team's shouts. Somewhere, the track team's footsteps pounding as they ran. The second gymnasium remained quiet as always, with only the fan producing a low hum. "Ninety-seven. All accounted for," Chihiro said, closing the shuttle case with satisfaction. Kana lined the cases along the wall, her eyes drifting to the hook where Aoi's racket bag used to hang. Today, there was nothing there. The hook just jutted out from the wall, empty. "...Let's start," Kana said quietly. "Yeah," Chihiro replied. The two of them entered the court. Rackets in hand. Chihiro took her serving stance and tossed the shuttle up. Kana divided the court in her mind. Sixteen squares. Her position. Chihiro's position. The shuttle's landing point— "It's too quiet. The shuttle sound is scary," Chihiro muttered before the shuttle even came. She was right. Until yesterday, there were four people on the court. Multiple footsteps. Voices flying everywhere. Today it was just the two of them, the fan's hum, and the sound of their shoes scraping the floor. "If you hit it into the wall, there's more sound," Kana offered. She regretted it immediately. That wasn't what she meant. But Chihiro was already nodding. "True!" The next shot. Kana swung her racket—and completely whiffed, sending the shuttle straight into the wall. BANG. The sound echoed through the gymnasium. Chihiro burst out laughing. "The sound definitely increased!!" she cried. "...I wasn't aiming for that," Kana said quietly. Shinya, who'd been sitting against the wall, looked up from his book. He stared at the wall for three seconds, then went back to reading. He said nothing. Those three seconds of silence made Chihiro laugh even harder. Kana's lips curved up too. After the laughter faded, both their movements had a little more tension than before. Careful stances. Careful observation. Careful movement. Without Aoi, they were each pushing a little harder. Kana caught it when Shinya's gaze drifted toward the sliding door. She didn't say anything, didn't move her head. Just a slight shift in her eyes. But she understood. He was waiting. They continued practicing. Tracking the shuttle's trajectory in her mind. Her feet beginning to move. Still awkward, but definitely better than yesterday. Chihiro was steadily improving too—now two out of three serves were landing in the court. Then the sliding door made a sound. That distinctive screech of metal rails. Kana turned instinctively. A silhouette stood in the backlight. Tall. Around 170 centimeters. Long jet-black hair falling straight down, a racket bag slung over her shoulder. In the gymnasium's dim light, her eyes swept across them. Sharp, golden eyes. "...I'm back," Yuri said quietly, to no one in particular. "I'm Yuri Yabe. Second year. Your senpai," she continued. Chihiro leaned over and whispered to Kana. "Not a ghost member, but a ghost—wait, no!" Yuri had heard that. The corner of her mouth lifted slightly. "Pretty much the same thing," she said. In that one sentence, Kana understood what kind of person this was. Someone who could say "pretty much the same thing" without embarrassment or excuse. Just stating facts. Shinya didn't react with surprise at all. He closed his book with a snap and stood up. "Go change," he said. "Yes," Yuri replied. Yuri walked toward the changing room. Watching her back, Kana glanced at Shinya. He was checking the shuttle machine settings. His expression hadn't changed. But the air around him was different from before. He hadn't said he was waiting. He hadn't said he knew. But—he definitely knew Yuri would come back. --- Knock practice began. Yuri's smash was the real thing. She drew her racket back and drove the shuttle down. Each time the shuttle hit the floor, the ventilation fan trembled. Kana could feel the air shake all the way to her feet. "The gymnasium is singing," Chihiro murmured. Yuri laughed a little. A wry laugh. "Placing in the top of the prefecture in this crappy gymnasium is hilarious," she said. It sounded self-deprecating, but not resigned. The way someone speaks when they know this is the only place they can do it. Shinya turned to Kana. "When Yuri's smash comes, call out the landing point before it lands," he said. "Call it out? With my voice?" Kana asked. "Right. Back right corner. Front center. Say it before she hits," Shinya said. Understood, Kana said, taking her racket position. Yuri stood at the service line. Drew her racket back. Her weight shifted forward. "Back right," Kana called. Yuri hit. The shuttle landed in the back right corner. "Front center," Kana called. Another hit. Another match. Ten shots. Twenty. Sometimes she was off. But around thirty, something clicked into place. Kana's words and Yuri's shots were aligning with almost no lag. Something spread slowly through her chest. Her reading was connected to someone else's arm. The map in her head matched the court's reality. But that wasn't all—every time she spoke, Yuri's racket moved. Like she was the blueprint for the court itself. So this is it, she thought. She understood what he meant when he said "use your brain." A new form of it was becoming visible. --- When practice ended, the light outside the gymnasium had turned to evening. Shinya said something short to Yuri. "Tell them about the year you were alone," he said. Yuri went quiet for a moment. Shinya said nothing more, just picked up his racket bag and left the gymnasium first. The door closed. Three of them remained. Yuri sat against the wall and stretched her legs out. Kana and Chihiro settled nearby. Only the fan's sound filled the space. "Do you remember when the club had zero members?" Yuri began. "Zero?" Chihiro repeated softly. "When I was a first year, the last third years graduated at the end of the year. When I became a second year, I was alone. There was no advisor. There was a gap before Shinya came, and the whole time I just came here and did solo practice," Yuri said. "Why did you keep going?" Chihiro asked. Yuri paused. "Because quitting would mean accepting it," she said. "Accepting what?" Kana asked. "I still don't really know. Maybe against the school. Maybe against someone. Maybe just stubbornness. Probably all mixed together," Yuri said. Kana couldn't speak. Yuri's voice was matter-of-fact. Not sentimental. Just laying out facts. That matter-of-fact tone was what pierced her. "When I heard you two had joined," Yuri continued, "I was honestly relieved. I almost cried." No embarrassment. No excuses. Just saying it plainly. Chihiro's eyes reddened slightly. "You could have cried, senpai," Chihiro said. "Don't say that now," Yuri said. Yuri laughed and quickly wiped her eye with the back of her hand. The laugh and the gesture happened in the same second. Chihiro started to say "Wait, you're crying!" then caught herself. "Oh, you said not to say that." Yuri laughed. "Yeah." Kana laughed too. The laughter echoed through the gymnasium, mixing with the fan's sound. Now she understood why this person was here. --- Yuri and Chihiro headed to the club room first. Kana stood alone in front of the whiteboard, erasing the remaining tactical diagrams. Court grids and arrows. With each pass of the eraser, the white lines faded. The sliding door opened. Shinya. "Still here?" he asked. "Cleaning up," Kana said. Shinya stood silently beside the whiteboard. Kana moved the eraser, hesitated, then spoke. "Did you know Yuri was coming back?" she asked. "I didn't say I knew," Shinya replied. "And you didn't say you were waiting either. And you're not saying that you're not saying that," Kana said quietly. It wasn't an accusation. Just an observation spoken aloud. Shinya looked at her briefly. "You circle around the answer with words and leave the center unsaid," Kana said. Shinya pointed to a smudge on the whiteboard. A small grid mark in the corner. Kana erased it. As she moved the eraser, she felt his gaze on her. Just watching. She tried to check what kind of look it was, but before she could meet his eyes, Shinya looked out the window. The evening light fell diagonally across the gymnasium floor. It was getting redder. Her cheeks felt warm. Respect, she thought. But every time she tried to fit that word, something didn't align. Knowing the fact that he was "waiting" while listening to Yuri's story. Feeling this now, looking at his profile—it all mixed together and wouldn't fit into one name. Kana set the eraser in the tray. The whiteboard was clean white. --- The residential area in the evening was quiet. The Mikage City neighborhood was about ten minutes by bike from Shiratori High. Organized blocks of narrow streets, every house with walls and gates of nearly the same height. At this hour, the smell of dinner drifted from somewhere. Kana stopped her bike in front of a certain nameplate. Tsukishima. Her hand wouldn't move. She stared at the intercom button. Three seconds. Five seconds passed. She didn't know what to say. "How are you?" wasn't right. "Come back" wasn't right. "The club's being disbanded" wasn't now. So what— But she had come. She was here. That was a fact. She pressed the button. The chime rang. After about twenty seconds, the entrance light came on. The door opened. It was Aoi. Hoodie and sweatpants, her deep purple eyes widening slightly. She looked at Kana. Then looked at her again. "...Why are you here?" Aoi asked. "I wanted to come, so I came," Kana said. Aoi was quiet for a moment, then started to say "Want to come in?" but changed it to "Is the entrance okay?" Kana answered "Yes." The two of them sat on the entrance step. Aoi hugged her knees first. Kana did the same. The evening air in the residential area was slightly cool. For a while, neither spoke. A car passing in the distance. A TV on somewhere. Insects beginning to chirp. "I lost the middle school finals," Aoi said first. Kana didn't move. "Set count two to one, and I was ahead in the final set. Got to seventeen points. Then I fell apart," Aoi continued. "Fell apart?" Kana asked. "My shot angles all went wrong. Flying where I didn't aim. Movements my body should remember came out in some weird form. It was scary," Aoi said. A pause. "Even though your body remembers?" Kana asked. "It remembers, but it won't come out. Fear comes first. The moment I realized I was cornered, everything went wrong. Movements that worked in practice—I couldn't trust them anymore. That feeling," Aoi said. Kana stayed in that silence for a while. Aoi's words slowly took shape in her mind. The body remembers but fear consumes it. You can see it but can't move—it was similar to something Kana herself had always carried. Different form. But similar root. "I can't move," Kana said quietly. "I'm bad at sports, I'm weak. I can draw the court grid in my head, but my feet don't always get there. Still can't now," Kana said. Aoi looked at Kana's profile. "But," Kana continued, "I can see where your shots go." Aoi's movement stopped. "Your racket face angle. How your weight transfers. That one moment of stillness before you hit. Put it all together and I know which way it'll go. Today in practice, I actually tried it with Yuri's shots and it worked," Kana said. "...Really?" Aoi asked. "Really," Kana said. Aoi went quiet again. Kana did too. The night insects' sounds were gradually increasing. "So let's do this together," Kana said. "Huh?" Aoi said. "The parts you can't see, I'll put into words. If you get cornered and your racket face wavers, I'll say it. If there's a course you can aim for, I'll say it. Before your fear comes, I'll place my words first," Kana said. Light shimmered in Aoi's eyes. Kana watched Aoi's profile. She might cry, Kana thought. But she hadn't said it to m