3. Nishigawe

Club activities ended.

The basketball team practiced later than we did. Even when the volleyball court was nearly deserted, they kept running.

I stayed until the very end to pack up the nets and help the first-years clean up.

Senior Makino used to be the last one to leave, too, but she stopped doing extra practice on her own once she became a third-year.

From the holidays to the new term, many people have changed. It is an unavoidable fact. This morning, before leaving the house and before gravity could secretly flatten me, I measured my height and found I had successfully grown another 0.8 centimeters since spring break.

I am currently 159.72 centimeters tall.

Although I am nowhere near Senior Makino, who is already 1.75 meters, I am still growing. Objectively speaking, this height is not bad for a middle school girl’s volleyball player, and for a libero, it is more than enough.

Of course, growing taller would be better.

That would mean a longer stride, longer arms, and faster receives.

After cleaning up, I said goodbye to the kids and bid farewell to the basketball coach and players. Keeping the promise I made earlier in the classroom, I climbed back up to the school building to find the cultural committee member who had just finished her meeting.

Last year, she was in Class C with me.

"For this year's class competition, it's still me and another boy in charge of execution," the cultural committee member (who also serves as the competition coordinator) said while putting her file folder into a drawer, trying to recall, "Uh, I think his name is something like O..."

I sat backward on the chair in front of her desk, my arms resting on the back of the chair.

"Oshiro-kun?"

"Ah, yes! As expected of Wei, I haven't even recognized all the new faces in the class yet."

After asking a bit about the situation, it turned out that she felt her future partner seemed difficult to talk to and was also in the student council, so he might be too busy. Furthermore, class participation was low, and she feared it would be hard to mobilize everyone.

If something went wrong, she hoped I could help out.

"Is that all? No problem," I said, pushing off the back of the chair to stand up. "If there’s volleyball, just sign me up. For other events, if they’re short on people and the times don't conflict, I can fill in."

The cultural committee member’s eyes welled up with tears: "Thank you... It’s so lucky to be in the same class as you, Wei!"

"I’m sure you’ll do a great job coordinating this, but should we head back together?"

"Yes!"

"Here, have a tissue."

"Wuuu..." She sobbed, blowing her nose.

I treated her to two skewers of oden on the way, and we parted ways at the intersection.

It was already dark.

Dusk had settled, and the moon was bright among sparse stars. Namimori Town sank into the quiet river of night. When I returned home, the lights were already bright. Dad must have just arrived, as he was wearing an apron, preparing dinner.

I ran upstairs to drop off my bag and hurried back down.

Scanning the room, I immediately knew what to do. I rolled up my uniform sleeves and ran to the cupboard to grab a bowl.

"Are we having curry tonight?" I confirmed.

"Yes."

Dad answered, then looked over while chopping ingredients.

As a university professor, he spent his time surrounded by youth, and there was always a lingering scholarly air about him. He was slender, wore thin-rimmed glasses, and his expression behind the lenses was always calm and gentle. His voice was refined: "Wei, how was school today?"

"It was great," I replied while working. "The class after the shuffle is nice, everyone is very enthusiastic, and I’ve made quite a few new friends... Speaking of which, our modern literature teacher changed. The new one is supposedly a graduate student from Todai, and I’ve learned a lot in her class."

"I see. The teacher told me about your grades; they were impressive."

"But don't get arrogant. You still need to take things seriously, right?"

Dad carefully placed the prepared ingredients into the pot. Then, I heard him chuckle softly: "Well, Wei has always been reliable. We are the ones who are proud of you."

I gave him a "that goes without saying" smile.

A moment later, the savory aroma of the curry filled the air, with white steam rising like an invisible hand tempting a cat, making me feel hungrier by the second. Then came the gentle clinking of pots and pans in the kitchen.

I picked up the rice scoop and served two plates.

"When is Mom coming back?" I asked.

"She seems very busy in Italy lately." Dad took the plates from me, holding the ladle in his other hand, and stirred the curry again. "I asked her; she said she would be back this week, but it looks like it will be delayed until next month."

I tilted my head, looking at him with a mix of sincerity and teasing: "If you’re lonely, Dad, you should go fishing with Uncle Miura more often. After all, I’m very busy this month too."

Dad: "..."

Dad: "You, really. By the way, are you preparing for the prefectural tournament?"

"No, that’s still two months away. It’s just that the class competition events are starting, and I’ll probably sign up for volleyball."

"Good luck. Can I come watch?"

He handed me the curry rice.

"No. But there’s a marathon later this year; parents are welcome to come to that."

Holding my freshly made dinner, I walked out of the kitchen and sat at the dining table.

The evening news played on the TV.

After finishing dinner with Dad, I asked him about some things at the university, we chatted, and then we cleaned the dishes together.

He went out for a walk after dinner. I had homework to do, so I showered first, did the laundry, hung it out to dry, and went back upstairs to my room.

Today is over.

It takes three steps to settle into my comfort zone:
Open the door, enter the door, close the door.

Then, I took two steps to the side of the bed and immediately, instantly flopped onto my knees, my upper body collapsing onto the bed like a noodle.

I clutched my soft pajamas, frozen in the corner of the bed like a folded bowling pin. I let myself be exposed to the air, sitting still for a while, before letting out a long, continuous sigh.

...Sigh!

So exhausted... Why are there so many things to do right after the semester starts?

I buried my cheek in the cool surface of the quilt. After a moment of silence, I let out a muffled, complaining howl from my throat.

"Ughhh—"

Being the stable top student is fine, and I am indeed performing stably, but the way the teacher talks as if I could crush that Gokudera-kun is just too terrifying!

That guy who never seems to study but can easily keep up is really scary... Does no one understand me? At least show some dark circles under your eyes! Yet every time I glance at him in the hallway, he looks like a bright, beautiful mixed-race boy in top form.

And why does he smoke, yet his fingertips and teeth aren't the slightest bit yellow? To be gifted to that extent.

"Ughhh—"

If it were just studying, that would be one thing, but there are school activities too. It's enough already. The sports festival is exhausting enough, and now there are group competitions... The cliques in the second year are even worse than in the first year. Just dealing with the conflicts within the groups could cost me half my life. Tired, tired, so tired.

I just want to stay in my room forever and go nowhere!

I turned my head, resting it on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the desk with its single lamp.

It leaned against the wall in silence, like an old friend who isn't good with words. The soft light was gentle and warm, like a translucent, misty, and cozy veil, tiptoeing to kiss my books, my notebooks, my card albums, my two rows of Pokémon figurines, and my anime standees.

"..."

I really want to stay in this bedroom forever.

I reached under the covers, groping until I grabbed the large foot of my Gengar plushie.

Volleyball was never the most popular sport at Namimori Middle.

As for me, I wouldn't say I like it that much either.

During this recruitment drive, I walked around with my sign and application forms, and besides some friendly encouragement and some lousy, offensive pick-up attempts, I barely managed to recruit three first-years.

One is a complete beginner; one has a little foundation but not much; the last one hasn't even decided whether to come to training.

"It can't be helped, I guess," I whispered to myself. "Sending someone who doesn't even like volleyball to do the recruiting... what kind of fool would suddenly become interested in it?"

And Senior Makino, who used to be the first to arrive and the last to leave.

Her serves used to be so passionate and unrestrained—*thump*, *boom*—hitting the arms and rebounding with a vibration that echoed in one's very marrow, enough to make anyone’s blood boil for a second.

I slowly dragged the Gengar plushie toward me.

Being on my knees is uncomfortable. I hugged the round, chubby, dark-purple Pokémon, sitting silently on the floor, my head still resting motionless on the bed frame.

The ball I received during afternoon practice sounded like a "pop."

It was no different from the feeling of a violin string snapping.

That's right.

I don't like the violin, and I don't like playing volleyball. To me, they are activities that induce occasional pain. And I don't like pain at all. I just want to stay home, watch anime, play games, eat snacks, and survive. I don't like activities.

I only keep doing them because others expect me to do them well.

And because, in the eyes of the public, living like a shut-in is unhealthy and makes people worry, I only do it in secret.

I nestled against the bed as if drawing energy from it. Once my body relaxed, I couldn't help but recall the pain after exercising—shoulders, forearms, the chest and abdomen used for diving, and the shins bruised from practicing blocks.

In the silence of my daze, I thought of the reasons many people quit the club.

Back then, I harbored thoughts that perhaps my seniors found unnecessary, trying every way to find out why they didn't want to come back. The reasons I eventually received were:

"Volleyball feels boring."
"No time."
"Not suited for sports."

Honestly, I couldn't refute a single one.

"Ah..."

I hugged the indifferent Gengar tightly and crawled onto the bed.

Only when I finally slipped into the soft quilt, with my hair scattered messily like a water spirit and surrounded by the familiar scent and texture, did my mood finally improve. I heard my own voice muffled against the plushie: "...Coach, why?"

Of course, no one answered.

This is me.

The me who is wrapped in a polished, shiny exterior, appearing sensible and capable of doing everything well, while in reality, I am lazy, cowardly, prone to complaining, prone to freaking out, insincere, conflicted, and pessimistic.

The me who has to play dead under the covers for over half an hour every time I get home.

If this side of me were revealed, I would be a damn liar, and I would be met with everyone’s disappointed gazes.

The me who is absolutely terrible.

The me who must never be found out.

I collapsed limply onto Gengar’s belly. It had just been washed and dried yesterday, and I could still smell the lingering scent of sunshine and fabric softener.

For some reason, I suddenly remembered a healthy, bright smile.

"............"

I crawled up at a snail's pace and awkwardly brushed off that fleeting, ill-timed thought: Why would I suddenly think of that strange guy?

Regardless, he is at least much more natural than me; one look and you can tell he’s a pure "active" type. He’s the kind of person who gets itchy if he stays quiet for even a second, and the only time he sits still is when he’s passed out at his desk.

He can openly peel back the thorns of his pride for everyone to see and laugh so candidly. Even if his grades aren't great, the teachers still like him.

...Yes.

If I’m being honest, I do envy that person a little.

"Alright." I sat on the bed, pinched Gengar’s ears, and placed the chubby toy at the head of the bed to stand guard. Then I messed up my hair with a few frantic tugs. I sighed at myself and thought, "Stop it, don't think about nonsense anymore."

I rolled off the bed.

I dug out the manga I hadn't finished reading from under the bed.

I read two volumes in a vengeful rage, laughing out loud at the comedic scenes until the sound of Dad coming home downstairs startled me. I quickly tucked the manga away. I hurriedly tied my hair up, tidied the desk, sat properly, did my homework, and organized my notes. For a moment, the sound of flipping pages filled the room.

Knock, knock.

"Come in," I said without looking up.

The door opened, and I heard light footsteps. Soon, a small plate of sliced bunny-shaped apples was placed in the empty spot on my desk, and Dad’s gentle voice followed:

"Wei, remember to stand up and walk around after studying for a while."

"I know... Ah, so cute!" I put down my pen and looked in surprise at this plate of one of the world's most boring fruits, now dressed in simple artistry. I immediately looked back and smiled, "Thank you, Dad."

He smiled and patted my head.

Dad: "Mom said she misses you, don't forget to call her."

Me: "I'll do it as soon as I finish my homework."

Dad: "I'm going to take a shower then. Get some rest early."

Me: "Okay! Goodnight, Dad."

After sending off the considerate professor, I took a bite of an apple like a heartless assassin. *Crunch, crunch.* The sweet, fresh juice spread across my lips and tongue. I looked back seriously at the half-organized notebook on my desk.

I lost points on English this time.

Biting on a toothpick, I silently recited the key points several times and continued to knit my brows while organizing the grammar.

Gokudera Hayato, that annoying returnee... his foreign language score was two points higher than mine again. I’ve lived abroad too, but that was when I was a child, and I didn't stay long; the effort I have to spend learning English is the same as any other ordinary student.

After finishing my homework and notes, I did two listening practice sets and reviewed and previewed all subjects. The clock lazily pointed toward midnight. Finally, I played an audio tape with foreign language dialogue, went out to make a cup of hot milk to help me grow taller, applied a plaster to the bruises on my skin, called Mom—it was still evening for her—and applied an eye mask to reduce dark circles, ensuring I would look my best tomorrow.

After finishing the milk and listening to the tape, I resisted the urge to read more manga and prepared to sleep.

I hugged the Gengar plushie and crawled on my knees to turn off the light.

Before the bedroom sank back into endless gloom, for some reason, or perhaps for no reason at all, my gaze drifted toward the volleyball resting quietly in the corner by the desk leg.

It was packed in a black ball bag, with only a little bit of its round head showing.

I calmly looked away.

With a slight flick of my finger, the light went out.