At midnight in Lab Zero, the sound of keystrokes still seemed to linger somewhere in the air. The morning of mid-December bit at the skin with cold. From the loading entrance beside the underground parking garage of Travis Tower, event staff carried boxes and equipment in steady succession. The year-end exhibition for Vanguards Sports—a competition where industry professionals, buyers, and internal judges would gather. Forty minutes until opening. Tobio stood with his back against the corridor wall, clutching a freshly printed proposal. The edges of the paper wavered slightly—the final version of the proposal he and Rin had finished together that night in Lab Zero. Dark purple hair entered his field of vision. Rin appeared from around the corner. She wore a work jacket today, and the star-shaped earring on her right ear caught the fluorescent light with a small glimmer. In her hands, her own copy of the proposal. Their eyes met. Her expression held its usual softness, but today a thread of tension ran through it. The two of them stood side by side before the entrance door to the venue. Voices of judges preparing drifted from inside. Rin spoke quietly, still facing forward. "[gentle]Even if things don't go well today—I have no regrets" Tobio looked at Rin's profile. He waited to see if there was more. But Rin said nothing further. He understood that everything—the implication that this mattered more than the presentation's outcome—was contained in those brief words. The meaning lay in having come this far with Tobio himself. That was what she meant. Tobio couldn't respond. He didn't yet have words enough to answer. He only said, low and quiet, "I see." "[serious]I see" He opened the door. --- The seminar room adjacent to "Showcase One" was about seventy percent filled with industry professionals. The final slide of the senior team's presentation still remained on the front screen. Numbers lined it. Sales projections, market share, development costs. Orderly. Perfect. It was their turn. The first few slides proceeded as planned. Product concept, target demographic analysis, competitive comparison. Rin stood before the monitor beside him while Tobio advanced the slides. The audience's gaze moved back and forth between the screen and Tobio. When they reached the fourth slide, Tobio's hand stopped. He closed the materials in front of him with a soft snap. The air in the room shifted. Rin moved slightly before the monitor. One of the judges looked up. Tobio directed his gaze not at the screen, not at the judges, not at Rin—but out the glass window toward winter Tokyo. He opened his mouth. "[serious]I destroyed my knee and retired" The room fell silent. "[serious]After leaving the court, every day was gray. Work, eat, turn off the lights. That was all. I didn't understand why I was moving at all" He wasn't choosing his words. Not because he lacked the composure to choose them, but because he felt no need to. Words came in the order they rose, and he spoke them. "[serious]There was someone—who kept the memory of my matches. Who remembered my tosses. Who put into words what I did on that court. Only then did I think I could pour passion into something again. That I could be serious about this work. That feeling was the same as when I played volleyball" Rin's fingers gripped the edge of the monitor softly. She didn't press the slide key. She only looked at Tobio. Her amber eyes didn't move. "[serious]That's why our proposal wasn't built from numbers. It was built from what players seek, from the feel of the court. That's something no other team can match" A brief silence followed. One of the judges stopped moving his pen. He only looked at Tobio's face. When the results were announced, Rin looked down. Tobio's team had reversed the senior team's lead. They had won the competition. Rin's lips pressed together tightly. Not quite joy, not quite holding back tears—joy and something still unspoken mixed together in that downturned face. --- When the exhibition ended and cleanup began, Tobio sent Rin a brief message. "Can you come to Yoyogi?" Rin's reply came immediately. Five characters: "Understood." --- The plaza before Yoyogi National Gymnasium held few people. The December night wind stirred the hem of Tobio's coat. The facility's exterior lights cast the ground in white. In the cold air, a faint scent lingered—concrete and winter's dry earth. This was where Tobio had once fought the Interhigh semifinals and finals. It was also where his knee injury had become irreversible. He hadn't returned since his retirement. He'd known it was a place he couldn't go back to. But tonight, choosing this place had a reason. He couldn't articulate it well, but it felt necessary to speak here. For himself—someone who could only be serious inside the court—to mark this place as where he'd first learned to be serious outside of it. Rin arrived. She wore a coat over her suit, white breath rising from her lips. The moment her eyes met his, something in them changed. She understood the significance of his choice. Rin stopped and slowly opened her mouth. "[serious]Tonight—I'll tell you everything. About the match I watched in high school, all the reasons I approached you" Her voice trembled slightly. It was the face of someone who had decided that tonight, finally, she would release everything she'd been holding. Tobio cut off her words. "[serious]I don't need it" Rin stopped. "[serious]The reasons don't matter. Even if the beginning wasn't chance—I believe your feelings now are real" Rin's breath caught. Tobio didn't look away. He extended his right hand. With an awkward, hesitant motion, he took Rin's hand. Her fingers were cold. He felt his own hand trembling. When had he trembled like this before? Not even before volleyball matches had he shaken this way. "[serious]I realized I can't do this without you" The words came. He couldn't stop them. "[serious]I love you" The exterior light fell to the ground. Rin's shadow and Tobio's shadow stretched out side by side. For a while, there was no sound at all. A tear spilled from Rin's eyes. One drop traced her cheek, and then they wouldn't stop. Rin wept silently, burying her face in Tobio's chest. Through the fabric of his coat, her warmth reached him. Tobio went rigid for several seconds. He didn't know what to do. But before he could search for an answer, his arms moved. He wrapped both arms around her and held her close. For the first time, he held someone of his own accord. The winter wind outside the court passed quietly around them both. --- Yamato happened to be walking that path. After closing Café Halftime, he'd been asked to deliver a shipment to a client in the Yoyogi direction. With the package slung over his shoulder, he walked along the sidewalk before the gymnasium. Under the exterior light, he saw two figures. His feet stopped. Tobio was holding Rin. Rin had buried her face in Tobio's chest. For ten seconds, Yamato couldn't move from that spot. The package in his hands, he realized, was being gripped so tightly his fingertips had gone white. Something wordless lodged in his throat. Miyamae's voice echoed in his mind. ——If you chain up the feeling of love, it's not love anymore. It's just a cage. Yamato closed his eyes. He took one breath. Then he turned on his heel. He walked back the way he'd come, quickly. He didn't look back. Something seeped from his retreating figure—sadness and anger, and something that wouldn't fade, sinking into the December night. --- Late that night, the gymnasium of Kitazora High School was dark. Kei sat alone, his sports bag beside him, typing the next day's practice menu into his tablet. One fluorescent light in the ceiling flickered in a steady rhythm. The gymnasium floor was cold, carrying the scent of old wood. His smartphone vibrated. A message from Tobio. ——I told Rin. I said it properly. Kei's hands left the tablet. He stared at the screen. He read the short sentence several times. Then he looked up at the ceiling. The flickering fluorescent light cycled on and off in regular intervals. Kei smiled faintly. A soundless, barely perceptible smile. "[whispers]……Good for you, King" It was certainly a word of blessing. But in the dimness of the gymnasium, what floated in Kei's left eye—his silver odd-eye—was not only that. A sense of having completely handed over the King to the world outside the court. Whether that was loss or relief, or something entirely different, Kei couldn't yet put into words. His fingers touching his wristwatch remained still, unmoving. Kei typed a reply. ——Don't lose next time. After sending it, he set his phone down. He pulled the tablet back toward him and continued writing the next day's practice menu. Beside Rikuto Miura's name, he drew a new arrow for tactical adjustments. Without organizing his own feelings, he tried once more to think only of the court tonight. --- A few days after the year-end exhibition, the morning briefing in the Product Planning Department had more people than usual. Beside Department Head Tabata of Vanguards Sports stood a face Tobio rarely saw. He could tell the person was from an outside company, but he couldn't make out the details. He stood at the edge of his desk, confirming the face. Rin came to stand beside him. Their shoulders were nearly touching. Tobio didn't turn toward her, but he felt her presence through his skin. Even now, days after that night of confession, Rin's proximity remained—how to say it—vivid. He felt the tips of his ears grow warm. Department Head Tabata began speaking. A joint project with an overseas volleyball league. Co-development of next-generation shoes for players and on-site promotion. Team formation with partner companies. Among the names read as members, Tobio's and Rin's appeared. Rin glanced sideways at Tobio's face. Tobio kept his gaze forward, maintaining his expression. But Rin would have understood. His ears were red. The briefing ended, and a list of partner company contacts was circulated. Tobio's eyes fell on the list. Names, previous positions, areas of responsibility. At one point, his finger stopped. In the column beside the contact's name—the company listed as their previous employer was the same corporate group where Yamato had once worked. Tobio turned his gaze toward Rin. She was still reading another page of the list. She hadn't noticed this name yet. Tobio held the list in his hands and looked out the window. December's Tokyo sky was a thin gray. The connection with Yamato was beginning to move in a new form—that premonition settled quietly in his chest. There was also something Rin hadn't yet finished telling him, something that would surface someday in the future. Tobio understood that. But for now—he had enough within himself to wait for it.