Chapter 1: The Girl Who Used to Play Beside Me

They say you can never go home again.

I used to think that was just something people said after messing up their lives beyond repair—like a dramatic exit line in a blockbuster movie. But standing here now, as a second-year high schooler, Shunpei Takahashi, uniform perfectly ironed and anxiety levels off the charts…

    "All right, class, we’ve got a transfer student joining us today," the homeroom teacher announces, looking to get homeroom started. "Come on, don’t be shy."

Yeah. It's easy for you to say you're not the one starting over again.

I step forward to the front of the Classroom. The floorboards creak with every step I take, and thirty curious pairs of eyes turn toward me. Most of them look sleepy. Some are vaguely interested. One girl in the back is clearly just here for the vibes. Whatever.

    "...I'm Shunpei Takahashi. I transferred here from Tokyo. Nice to meet you."

I bow politely. Keep it clean. Quiet. In and out. The kind of introduction that makes people forget you by lunch.

Only… one person doesn’t.

From the sliding door at the back of the room comes the distinct clack of indoor shoes. I glance up—

—and everything stops.

She’s taller than I remember. Hair darker. Eyes sharper. But there’s no mistaking it.

Reina Tachibana.

Her gaze snags mine the second she enters. For a split second, her steps falter.

Just like that, the years between us collapse.

I look away first.

    “…Sorry I’m late,” she says quietly, slipping past the desks. Her voice hasn’t changed. Calm, clipped, the kind that used to give me hell over my footwork and laugh when I tripped on my loose shoelace.

She doesn’t utter my name. She doesn’t even look back at me.

I sit down, my heart pounding.

Well. So much for blending in.

I make my way to the quiet rooftop for lunch, except for the faint hum of vending machines and the caw of a persistent crow nearby.

I peel back the wrapper on my convenience store sandwich and take a bite. It’s got too much mayo, like always.

    "You’ve got the look of a man running from something," a voice says.

I nearly choke.

Spinning around, I find a girl leaning casually against the fence, arms folded, wind playing with the tips of her ponytail.

She grins.

   “Ayame Fujisawa. Class 2-A. Badminton club member and full-time meddler. You’re Shunpei Takahashi, right?”

    “…And you should add spying on transfer students to that list.”

    “Only the ones who were once middle school legends,” she replies, winking. “You disappeared off the radar after Regionals. Everyone thought you went pro or something like that. What happened?”

I look away, crumpling the sandwich wrapper.

    “Life,” I mutter.

Ayame doesn’t push. She just kicks off the railing and holds out a flyer.

BADMINTON CLUB RECRUITING – WE NEED YOU! It has a simple design, with clip-art shuttles and a chibi bird mascot.

    “You in?”

I snort. “I haven’t picked up a racket in years.”

Her smile doesn’t fade. “Didn’t say you had to be good. Just said we need you.”

   “…Pass.”

   “Even if Reina’s our ace?”

That stops me cold.

   “…Tachibana?” I ask.

Ayame nods, watching me.

I fold the flyer and toss it in the trash can.

The gym smells the same.

Wood polish, sweat, and echoes.

I wasn’t planning to stop by. But the doors were open, and old habits die hard.

Through the glass, I see her. Alone on the court. No doubles partner. No coach.

Just Reina.

She moves like the old days—precise, sharp, every step like part of a dance. Her smashes make the gym shudder. Her form’s perfect. Better than before.

She's grown.

I don't realize I'm standing there, hands in my pockets, holding my breath—

Until she stops mid-serve and turns.

Our eyes lock.

She walks over, every step deliberate.

    “…What are you doing here?” she asks.

I shrug. “Just passing by. Heard something familiar.”

    “You’re still lying the same way.”

She walks past me without another word.

As she disappears behind the gym doors, I stay frozen.

Her presence lingers.

Just like the echo of a dropped shuttle that no one bothered to pick up.

The wind’s cooler tonight. I walk home with my schoolbag slung over one shoulder, hands in my pockets, head full of static.

I pass the old community gym.

It’s closed now. Rusted lock. Lights off.

This is where we used to train after school. Me, Reina, and my brother.

I place a hand on the chain-link fence. The racket inside my bag feels heavy, like a ghost I never buried.

  “You don’t have to carry the court alone, Shunpei .”

My brother’s voice—Yuji’s voice—echoes in my mind. A hospital bed. A gentle smile. A future slipping through his fingers, handed to me instead.

I left. I walked away from it all.

But Reina… she stayed.

Back then, I ran. She reached out—and I never turned back.

Maybe I thought time would smooth things over.

But today proved otherwise.

She’s still waiting for that rally to finish.

And maybe…

Maybe so am I.