Chapter 15: A Spike to Remember

The final bell echoed through the halls like a signal of liberation. Students burst from classrooms, voices high with weekend anticipation. Yasu, as always, lingered. He packed slowly, gaze fixed on the edge of his desk.

Another Friday, he thought. Another quiet walk home. Maybe I’ll pick up volume 18 on the way.

Just as he slung his bag over one shoulder, Daichi appeared at his side like a sudden gust of wind.

“Yasu-kun! Perfect timing!”

Yasu raised a brow. “Perfect for what?”

“Volleyball,” Daichi grinned. “Behind the school. We’re short a player.”

“I don’t play volleyball.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Daichi said. “You can stand there and look mysterious. It'll confuse the other team.”

Yasu gave a small chuckle, already turning to walk away. But he paused.

He thought of the rooftop encounter, of Hoshiko-sensei and her unreadable smirk. He remembered the awkward quiet between them in the dojo and the strange release he felt when she clarified the misunderstanding about the man she was with.

Something inside him shifted that day. Since then, he’d noticed his own patterns more—how quiet he’d become, how often he avoided people, how small his world felt.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad to break that rhythm now and then.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll come.”

Daichi blinked, then beamed. “You will?!”

“Yeah. Not the worst thing to try something new... sometimes.”

The old volleyball court sat behind the school gym, its wooden floors gleaming beneath the afternoon sun. As Yasu stepped through the wide sliding doors, the smell of dust and sweat filled the air—strangely nostalgic.

But what really caught his attention was her.

Hoshiko-sensei.

Standing near the net, she wore a navy-blue sports jacket with matching shorts that hugged her figure with athletic ease. Her long hair was tied back, a few loose strands clinging to her face as she laughed at something one of the students said. She looked energized, alive—completely in her element.

Yasu froze at the entrance. For a moment, all sounds dimmed.

What is she doing here?

The whispers started quickly.

“Wait… is that Hoshiko-sensei?”

“She’s playing?!”

“Isn’t that… not allowed?”

But she didn’t seem to care. She twirled the volleyball in her hands with casual grace, chatting with students like she belonged among them—not above them.

Yasu stood awkwardly until Daichi dragged him onto the court.

“Guess what?” Daichi whispered, half-laughing. “Your first real match, and you’re up against Hoshiko-sensei.”

Yasu grimaced. “This is a mistake.”

“No backing out now, man.”

The teams formed quickly. Daichi stayed close to Yasu, probably out of pity—or protection. Across the court, Hoshiko-sensei bent her knees slightly, focused and calm.

Then the match began.

The game was chaotic, loud, and filled with nervous energy. Yasu tried to stay out of the way, awkwardly reacting to balls that came too close and completely missing the ones he should’ve hit. The other team wasn’t much better—except for Hoshiko-sensei.

She moved like a veteran: powerful, accurate, and stylish. Every jump, every serve, every block—sharp and clean. The kind of player that made it hard to look away.

Despite his clumsy attempts, Yasu couldn’t help stealing glances at her—until she caught him once, mid-play, and winked.

His face burned instantly.

Focus. Focus. It’s just a game.

Then came the moment.

The ball was passed high into the air—too high for any of the students to reach with strength.

But Hoshiko was already moving.

She leapt upward, her hand pulled back, eyes locked.

Smash.

The ball launched forward with terrifying force.

Yasu barely had time to blink before it struck him directly in the face.

WHACK!

He stumbled back, world tilting—

—and everything went black.

The ceiling lights above him hummed softly.

He was in the infirmary.

His head throbbed, but he could move.

Beside him sat Hoshiko-sensei, her long legs crossed, jacket sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and a playful glint in her eye.

“Yasu-kun,” she said, lips curling into a smirk. “You finally woke up.”

He winced. “What hit me…?”

“A volleyball,” she said sweetly. “Launched by yours truly.”

“I figured.”

“Honestly, I didn’t mean to take you out. It was supposed to scare you, not knock you out cold.”

He gave her a look. “You spiked it like we were in the finals of a national tournament.”

“Oh, come on. I went easy.”

He exhaled slowly, rubbing his forehead.

“Do you… always play with students?”

She shrugged. “When they need a hand. And when I want a break from grading midterm disasters.”

“You were really good,” he said, voice low.

She raised a brow. “Not bad yourself. That fall was dramatic.”

“Hilarious.”

“Don’t worry. You’ve become a legend now. First student to be KO’d by their own teacher.”

He groaned.

She leaned back in her chair, more relaxed now. There was something easy about her in this space—less teacher, more human.

“You’ve been different lately, Yasu-kun,” she said quietly.

“Different how?”

“More present. Less foggy. It suits you.”

He didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t. They sat in silence for a moment.

“You’re really not like other teachers,” he said finally.

“Is that a compliment?”

“It’s an observation.”

She chuckled. “Fair enough.”

She stood up, brushing invisible dust from her shorts.

“Rest here a bit more. I told the nurse I’d watch over you, but I have a meeting in ten minutes. Don’t faint again, okay?”

“I’ll try not to stand in front of your next spike.”

“Smart boy.”

She turned at the doorway.

“By the way,” she added with a small smile, “you should play more often. That lost look you always wear? It’s starting to fade.”

And then she was gone.

Yasu lay there, eyes on the ceiling. The faint echo of her spike still buzzed in his ears. He touched the side of his face, not because it hurt—but because…

Something was there.

Not unfamiliar.

He was starting to recognize it now.

But he didn’t want to name it yet.