They stepped through the noren curtains of Kawamura Sushi. The scent of scorched soy sauce and the chef's booming "Irasshai!" split the night's silence, wrapping around the two of them. [scared] "...Yeah, it's not moving after all. No voice either. Just... squeaking." Takeshi stared, almost poking at it—a white rabbit plushie placed in their usual prime spot on the second-floor tatami room. Beside him, Echizen Ryouma spread open a data notebook borrowed from Inui-senpai. A handwritten player roster. Records from the national finals. [whispers] "...Found him. Kanazawa Hayato. Third-year, ace. His school filed a missing person report." Ryouma tapped the name with his finger. The color drained from Takeshi's face. [angry] "So that means this guy cursed Seigaku!? Turned all of us into girls!?" Takeshi slammed the low table with a bang. The teacups rattled. In that instant, the plushie's black button eyes twitched, awkwardly. "Squeak..." A tiny, trembling electronic sound. Takeshi's anger deflated without a sound. [whispers] "Can't even use your voice, huh..." Wordlessly, Echizen Ryouma lifted the plushie onto his palm. It was heavy. A weight that made you certain there was something other than cotton inside. "This is... the weakest form...?" His voice came out hoarse. This was the person who had cursed them. Normally, anger should have come first. But looking at this powerless lump in his hand, a different question surfaced before anything else. (*Why did you have to go this far?*) [serious] "...Need a refill on that barley tea?" The chef climbed the stairs carrying a tray. His thick eyebrows furrowed at the tense atmosphere between the two. [casual] "Oh, chef. Thanks. ...Ah, the captain's not coming today." Takeshi pulled his hand away from the plushie, accepting the tea with a wry smile. [surprised] "Tezuka-kun? Is that so—turned back into that girl's form again, did they?" The chef planted his hands on his hips and said it bluntly, without a trace of hesitation. [gentle] "But y'know, a captain's always a captain. No matter how their appearance changes, if this doesn't waver, the person doesn't change." He tapped the center of his own chest with a thick finger. Saying just that, the chef descended the stairs. [laughing] "...That old man says some incredible stuff." Takeshi let out a small laugh. But Echizen Ryouma couldn't laugh. (*Even if their appearance changes, the captain is still the captain.*) The plushie in his palm squeaked once more. Why did Kanazawa Hayato cast the curse? By turning them into weak forms, what did he want to prove? No answer came. And yet, Fuji-senpai's words—"Who do you think is the weakest?"—and the chef's words just now—"The person doesn't change"—clashed and wrestled inside his head. That was when it happened. *Bzzz bzzz bzzz!* Takeshi's phone, on the low table, vibrated violently. [surprised] "Whoa, what the!? It's from the school!" Takeshi peered at the screen, his eyes widening more and more by the second. [shocked] "Hah!? I turned back to normal!?" He shouted. He looked at his own hands. Rough, boyish hands—his original hands. [excited] "I'm back...! I'm back, Echizen!!" But the joy lasted only a moment. From the other end of the phone, someone's shouting voice could be heard. Takeshi's face stiffened again. [scared] "...In exchange, they said the captain turned into a girl again." He shoved the plushie into his pocket. [urgent] "We're running, Momo-senpai!" They threw down their chopsticks and burst out of Kawamura Sushi. The train rattled and swayed. Reflected in the window were the boy who had been a girl until just moments ago, and Echizen Ryouma, still a boy. No one had answers. [angry] "Why do we swap places!? Is that just how curses work!?" Takeshi shouted, clinging to a hanging strap. Echizen Ryouma couldn't answer. Inside his pocket, the plushie squeaked again. Almost as if to say, "I don't know either." They rushed into the clubroom building. When they opened the door, the place was in an uproar, like a hornet's nest had been poked. The club members, still transformed, were surrounding a single tall girl. Captain Tezuka. [sad] "Captain...!" [scared] "The curse chained again, didn't it...!" [angry] "Don't make a racket." With that one word from Tezuka, the clubroom fell silent. A dignified, ice-cold voice. The eyes behind those silver-rimmed glasses hadn't changed a single millimeter from usual. [serious] "Everyone, go home for today. Staying here in confusion won't help anything." Their gaze swept over the club members. For just an instant, Ryouma felt their eyes meet his, where he stood frozen behind the crowd of people. *Thump.* There it was again. Something deep in his chest jumped, strangely. (*The captain hasn't changed.*) For some reason, that fact stabbed into his chest. Their appearance was a girl's, but inside, nothing had changed. That strength—right now, it felt a little painful. Late at night. Long after all the club members had quietly slipped away home, Echizen Ryouma sat alone at a desk in the clubroom. Looking at the plushie on his palm, he jotted down the day's events in his notebook. From outside the window, a rhythmic sound. *Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.* The sound of wall practice. He couldn't stand up. He could hear his own heartbeat, loud and obnoxious. He approached the window and quietly peered down. The night court. The white light of the safety lamps cut a circle out of the darkness. At its center stood Captain Tezuka. Their ponytail swayed like a pendulum. With every ball they hit, sweat scattered into the air like particles of light. Their movements hadn't changed at all. The usual, perfect form. The usual, calm, yet flame-like concentration. (*I've felt my heart race watching tennis hundreds of times.*) But tonight was different. It wasn't the arm swinging the racket. It wasn't the trajectory of the returning ball. He caught himself watching *their profile*. He couldn't look away. A single strand of hair swaying in the wind, eyes gleaming with intensity—he was trying to burn every detail onto his retinas. (*This... isn't excitement about tennis.*) The moment he put it into words in his head, Echizen Ryouma's face flared hot. He hurriedly averted his gaze from the window. He gripped the brim of his cap, tight. He closed his eyes. Even so, the image of Tezuka continuing their wall practice was seared onto the back of his eyelids, refusing to leave. Nothing was known about how to break the curse. No way to restore Kanazawa Hayato to normal. And as for how to process this strange emotion of his own—he had absolutely no clue. Carrying those three questions, Echizen Ryouma couldn't move from his chair until the night began to pale into dawn. Early the next morning, while the air in the clubroom was still cold, Echizen Ryouma stepped outside. Then, from the thicket of trees between the school building and the tennis courts, a single girl walked toward him. Flaxen hair, translucent in the morning sun, looking both silver and gold. Fuji-senpai. [surprised] "Fuji-senpai... where were you at this hour?" [gentle] "There was just something I wanted to check on." Fuji wore their usual gentle smile, then fixed their gaze on Echizen Ryouma's pocket. [gentle] "Echizen-kun, how was the plushie?" [sad] "Couldn't speak, couldn't move. Just... squeaked." [gentle] "Do you think that's the weakest form?" There it was again. Fuji-senpai, asking the same thing. [confused] "...I don't know." [gentle] "Being able to say 'I don't know'—I think that's a sign of strength." Saying just that, Fuji opened their narrowed eyes just slightly, revealing the blue irises within, and gazed at Echizen Ryouma. Then, with a light wave of their hand, they disappeared into the clubroom. Left behind, Echizen Ryouma's feet felt heavy. Inside his pocket, the plushie let out another tiny squeak. He had to find someone who could restore Kanazawa Hayato. He had to find a way to break the curse. And he had to face the feelings he'd felt tonight. He had no idea how to do any of it. Only that despair pressed down on his heart, painfully clear in the dawn air.