At dusk, the sky visible from the twelfth-floor window of Travis Tower seemed to have dropped two full shades lower than it had in October. After bringing the umbrella home, Tobio had never gotten it back from Rin. Or rather—he had. It was sitting on his desk the next morning. Without a word. It was such a small thing, yet Tobio had stood motionless for a moment, the folded umbrella still in his hand. *Take care of yourself too.* There was something transparent beneath that smile, visible just before the elevator doors closed. Even now, he couldn't name it. *Don't think about it*, he told himself. But he thought about it anyway. Cycling through that contradiction again and again, he'd entered the third week of November. --- Exactly 10 a.m. Tobio entered the mid-sized conference room on the twelfth floor—called "TR-1204" within Travis Tower, an eight-person space—alongside Kishida, his assigned colleague. This was the first meeting regarding equipment provision contracts for Toritsu Kitazora High School's volleyball team. The other party was already there. Pale gray short hair. A 178-centimeter frame angled slightly in a pipe chair. Not in a suit. Navy coach's jersey, tablet in hand, a thin file across his knees. Fingers tapping the watch face. The tapping stopped. The moment Tobio opened the door, it stopped. Eyes of different colors—left silver, right a lustrous gray-blue—looked at him. For one second, the air solidified. "[sarcastic]Long time, Kageyama. You've gotten softer, haven't you," The tone was sarcastic. But because he'd directed it at the whole room, Kishida let out a strained laugh. Tobio sat down diagonally across from Tsukishima without a word. Tsukishima Kei. Former teammate. Now a coach at Toritsu Kitazora High School's volleyball team. The last time they'd faced each other was just a brief message after Tobio decided to retire. About a year ago. Whether Tsukishima had changed in that time—Tobio couldn't tell just from looking at his face. The meeting began. Kishida flipped through pages of the proposal. Conditions for shoe monitor provision, size distribution confirmation based on team member count, methodology for feedback collection. Tsukishima listened while inserting precise questions. "[serious]Can you provide separate verification data specialized for takeoff motion," "[serious]It's possible. Though the timing——" "[serious]Before the season in March would be ideal. I'll provide the team's foot measurement data this month so we can give feedback as soon as we receive it," Kishida nodded and took notes. Tsukishima's questions were sharp. He understood how to handle data. When Tobio added supplementary explanation to the proposal, Tsukishima's response lagged by a beat. He was tracking Tobio's voice. Unconsciously. Tobio noticed it during the third silence. After Tobio finished explaining the figures, Tsukishima paused while looking at his tablet, then answered Kishida. That 0.3-second delay came the same way every time. The meeting ended at 11:15 a.m. Kishida left first. In the hallway, Tsukishima grabbed Tobio's sleeve. "[whispers]Still clumsy as ever. ……But I'm glad you seem well," His voice was low. It trembled slightly. Tobio looked at Tsukishima. Tsukishima was facing the wall. "[serious]What are you trying to say," "[cold]Nothing," With just that, Tsukishima started walking down the hallway. His back receded. The shoulders of his coach's jersey seemed to drop slightly. There was something in Tsukishima now that was different from before. Tobio could sense it. But he couldn't put into words what that difference was. --- Late afternoon, 4 p.m. Under the pretext of material research for a planning competition, Tobio and Rin walked through the back streets of Minami-Aoyama. The back streets of Minami-Aoyama in November's late afternoon became suddenly quiet once you turned off the main avenue. Only the sound of boots echoed on the stone pavement. Rin held her notebook, dark purple hair tucked behind her ear, walking half a step ahead of Tobio. The star-shaped earring on her right ear caught the streetlight and glimmered faintly. White exterior wall, green awning. The "HALF TIME" sign came into view. "[gentle]I confirmed last week that the competitor's shoes are displayed here. I wanted to see the actual display method as reference," "[serious]Understood," Opening the door released the scent of home-roasted coffee. A compact space of twenty-two seats, two large monitors behind the counter. Evening news for athletes played on the screens. They sat side by side at the counter. Rin opened the menu. Tobio looked around the shop—the layout unchanged from last time. A single customer in the semi-private seating in back. Behind the counter, a man in a white apron stood with his back turned. "[gentle]Two drip coffees, please," The man turned around. Tobio remembered—the last time he'd received coffee here, his hands had been shaking. It was this man. Blonde hair, nearly golden, in an unruly medium layer. Calm olive-green eyes. Those eyes looked at Rin. 0.5 seconds. His expression vanished. Not a smile, not anger. Just white. As if something inside had been pulled away entirely. Then the corners of his mouth rose. "[cold]Welcome," His voice was composed. Perfect as customer service. But Tobio understood—too perfect. After seeing that 0.5-second whiteness, he could tell where that composure came from. Rin's hand stopped. The hand that had been about to open her notebook froze on the table. "[surprised]……Yamato, kun," It was short. Yamato didn't call Rin's name. He moved into coffee preparation. The grinder's sound echoed through the quiet shop. Tobio looked at Rin. Rin was looking out the window. *(There is time between these two that I don't know.)* Not words—he felt it through his skin. Like a shift in body temperature. That 0.5-second silence, Rin's stopped hand, Yamato not calling her name. That was enough. Silence continued for a while. Rin didn't move. Tobio didn't move. Two coffees were placed on the counter. Yamato's movements were fluid. The scar on his right ring finger caught Tobio's eye. Yamato unconsciously touched it with his left thumb. Tobio looked at Rin's profile. In the face turned toward the window, there lingered the faint scent of old pain. Unresolved pain. Something that hadn't yet found its place. "[serious]Do you know him," He asked quietly. His voice was low. Rin paused. Her gaze moved from the window outside to the coffee cup on the table. "[serious]……He's my ex," Three words. She said nothing more. Tobio watched Rin. Rin's fingertips touched the rim of the coffee cup gently. Within Tobio's chest, his awareness of Rin as a person shifted again. Not a work partner, not the woman who remembered a toss from five years ago, not a colleague who'd returned an umbrella on a rainy night—but a single human being carrying an unresolved past. For some reason, that felt quietly heavy to him. --- Night. Tobio's smartphone received a message a little after 7 p.m. "There's more to discuss about today. Want to grab a drink? Akabane. ——Tsukishima" He couldn't think of a reason to refuse. "Toss Up" was in an alley in front of JR Akabane Station. Thirty seats, a sign advertising draft beer for 390 yen. The interior had the atmosphere of cheap and plentiful, with several middle-aged men who looked like regulars. An older man who appeared to be the owner stood in the back of the counter. Tsukishima was already there. Sitting by the window with a glass in front of him. He'd changed from his coach's jersey into casual clothes. Tobio sat across from him. Draft beer was brought out. At first, they talked about the contract. How to hand over the foot measurement data for Kitazora's nineteen team members. Which contact person to route communications through. He spoke about it flatly. Tsukishima's tone was the same as in the conference room—a mix of sarcasm and rational judgment. "[serious]There's an interesting first-year who joined this year. The team captain, Rikuto Miura," Around the time they ordered a second beer, Tsukishima's voice changed. The sarcasm thinned out. "[serious]He's rough and too emotional, but his reads are fast. He sees the opponent's next move before they make it. Good material, I think," Tobio looked at Tsukishima. Tsukishima was staring at his glass. Subtly different from his tone until now. Unusually direct. "[serious]Sounds like you're suited for coaching," Tsukishima stopped, glass in hand. "[whispers]……I never thought I'd hear that from you," It was low. The beer diminished slightly. The Akabane night outside the window glowed dimly through the glass. "[cold]When you left the court, I——" Tsukishima closed his mouth. Tobio waited. Tsukishima's fingers, unconsciously adjusting his watch, stopped. A crease formed between his brows. "[serious]What," Tsukishima looked away. Out the window. A long silence followed. Only the sound of the city drifted low. "[cold]That woman, Rin. She likes you, doesn't she," Tobio's movement stopped. "[serious]……What of it," Tsukishima set his glass on the table. His gaze returned. He looked at Tobio. Behind the heterochromatic eyes, there was something. Jealousy, perhaps. Anger. Or something entirely different—Tsukishima himself seemed unable to grasp it. "[cold]……I don't like it," Three words. The lowness of that voice pierced through Tobio. Tobio didn't understand what Tsukishima was trying to say. Why he didn't like it. What about Rin touched something in Tsukishima. He tried to ask back. But Tsukishima moved first. "[sarcastic]I'm drunk. I'm leaving," He stood. He pulled two thousand-yen bills from his wallet and placed them on the table. Then he grabbed his coat and left the shop. Tobio looked at the remaining beer. Then he stood and left the shop. Tsukishima's back disappeared into the darkness of Akabane's alley. His pale gray short hair caught the streetlight for just a moment, glowing white, then dissolved into the night. Tobio stood in the alley, watching that direction. There was an unpleasant heat in his chest. Heat whose emotion had no name. It resembled slightly the dull ache that remained after receiving a hard spike from an opponent on the volleyball court. But it was different. More shapeless. --- Deep night. The sign of Café Half Time went dark. Among tables with chairs turned upside down, Yamato sat alone at the counter. The silence after closing spread through the lingering scent of roasted coffee. On his smartphone screen was a photo of Rin. An old photo. From university days, when they were still together. Taken near a beach. Rin was smiling. A different face from the one she'd shown at the counter today. Softer, unguarded. Takuya Miyamae emerged from the back. A former professional basketball player, thirty-eight years old and large-framed. He wiped his hands with a towel after finishing the dishes, then leaned against the counter. "[serious]Still hung up on it," Yamato turned his smartphone face-down. "[cold]I'm not hung up on it," He paused. "[serious]It's not finished yet," Miyamae measured the weight of those words, looking at Yamato. He didn't rush anything. "[serious]The guy who was with Rin today—do you know him," Yamato looked at the wood grain of the counter for a moment. "[cold]An opponent from high school," His voice was flat. Without temperature. But beneath that flatness, something fine as a needle point glimmered. Miyamae said nothing. He simply placed one large hand on Yamato's shoulder once. Then he withdrew to the back. Yamato picked up his smartphone again. The Rin in the photo and the Rin who had sat beside him at the café today overlapped and wouldn't disappear. Rin opening her notebook next to that man. Rin's fingers stopping on her lap. Tobio watching quietly from beside her. That scene layered over the pho