Haruto was already late when he left the house.
He realized it the moment he stepped outside and saw how high the sun was. Not late enough to miss school, but late enough to feel it in his chest. He broke into a run without thinking, bag bouncing against his side as he cut down the familiar street.
The air was cooler than he expected, sharp in his lungs. He passed the corner shop, the closed shutters, the quiet houses that all looked the same at this hour. He'd walked this route his whole life. Running it felt wrong.
Of all days, he thought, it had to be today.
Nice job. Really impressive timing.
Saturday kept surfacing no matter how hard he pushed it down.
He reached the school gate just as students were thinning out, the morning rush already fading. Haruto slowed, catching his breath, straightening his uniform before stepping inside.
The bell rang.
Too close.
He slipped into the hallway and forced himself to walk normally, ignoring the heat still in his face. He hated drawing attention. Especially like this.
Next time, maybe try waking up before the sun decides to judge you.
When he reached his classroom, the door was still open. A few students were already seated, bags shoved under desks, conversations trailing off.
He slid into his seat just as the teacher walked in.
Haruto exhaled quietly and leaned back, staring at the board as if he'd been there all along.
Only then did he realize his hands were still shaking.
A chair scraped softly beside him.
"You're late."
Haruto didn't turn. "I'm on time."
Kenta leaned closer, grinning. "You were almost late. That's different."
Haruto glanced at him. Kenta looked far too awake for someone who never took mornings seriously.
"Did you run?" Kenta asked.
"No."
"You're sweating."
"It's hot."
"It's winter."
Haruto looked away. "Shut up."
Kenta laughed under his breath. "Man, you're slipping. Usually you're the responsible one. Should I be worried?"
Haruto opened his notebook and flipped to a blank page. "If you say one more word, I'm moving seats."
Kenta raised both hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll behave."
He paused.
"…But just so you know, if you'd been any later, I was ready to tell the teacher you were held up saving a cat."
Haruto finally snorted, then immediately pretended he hadn't.
"Idiot," he muttered.
Kenta's grin widened. "See? You're awake now."
Kenta leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against the desk. "So. Rough morning?"
Haruto shrugged. "Normal."
"That's not an answer."
"It is for me."
Kenta studied him for a moment, then smirked. "You sure you're not just nervous?"
Haruto frowned. "About what?"
"Oh, I don't know," Kenta said casually. "Running late. Acting jumpy. Almost smiling at my jokes."
Haruto shot him a look. "I didn't smile."
"You almost did."
The teacher started talking, but Kenta lowered his voice anyway. "You sleeping okay?"
"Yeah."
Another lie. Or close enough.
Kenta hummed, then changed topics as if it didn't matter. "By the way, I checked. That place near the station? The one with the cheap food."
Haruto's pen paused.
"They've got space on Saturdays," Kenta continued, still sounding careless. "Not crowded if we go early."
Haruto kept his eyes on the board. "You're planning already."
"Someone has to."
A beat passed.
"It's just a hangout," Haruto said.
"Yeah," Kenta replied easily. "I know."
But his grin said he didn't believe that at all.
The teacher cleared their throat sharply.
Kenta straightened at once, pen moving as if he'd been writing the whole time. Haruto followed suit, eyes on the board, copying notes he'd already seen a dozen times before.
For a while, the room settled into routine. Chalk against board. Pages turning. Someone yawning without trying to hide it.
Haruto's breathing finally slowed.
Then Kenta leaned over again, careful this time. "You know," he murmured, eyes still forward, "if you're gonna be late, at least make it dramatic."
Haruto didn't look at him. "You're still talking."
"Barely," Kenta said. "This is whispering."
Haruto wrote a line, paused, then crossed it out. "Why are you like this?"
"Because it's Friday," Kenta replied. "And Fridays feel wasted if nothing happens."
Haruto almost told him that not everything needed to happen. That some days were fine staying exactly the same.
Instead, he said, "You're loud even when you're quiet."
Kenta smiled to himself.
The bell rang not long after, sharp and freeing. Chairs shifted, conversations rising immediately. Kenta stood and stretched like he'd been waiting for it all period.
"See?" he said. "Survived the morning."
Haruto closed his notebook. "Barely."
Kenta slung his bag over his shoulder. "Don't worry. Tomorrow'll be easier."
Haruto paused at that. Just for a second.
"Tomorrow?" he repeated.
Kenta blinked, then grinned. "I mean—Saturday. You know. The thing."
He waved it off like it didn't matter and headed toward the door.
Haruto stayed seated a moment longer, watching the classroom empty out.
Tomorrow didn't feel easy.
But it didn't feel ordinary either.
Mei stopped by their desks before following the others out.
"You're being weird," she said, not looking at either of them.
Kenta paused mid-step. "Good morning to you too."
"I mean him," Mei added, finally glancing at Haruto. "You look like you ran a marathon."
Haruto sighed. "I was late."
"Almost late," Kenta corrected.
Mei's eyes shifted back to Kenta. "So you stressed him out first thing in the morning?"
"I encouraged him," Kenta said proudly.
Mei turned to Haruto again. "Ignore him. You're fine."
She said it so plainly that Haruto found himself nodding without thinking.
Kenta scoffed. "Wow. No concern for my emotional effort."
Mei slung her bag over her shoulder. "Save it for Saturday."
There it was again.
Haruto looked up. "You're assuming this is happening."
Mei met his gaze, calm as ever. "You said you were fine with it."
He hadn't meant that as a commitment. But she wasn't wrong.
Kenta grinned. "See? Majority vote."
Mei started toward the door, then paused. "Just don't make it complicated."
"Who?" Kenta asked.
She didn't answer. Just walked out.
Haruto stared after her, then glanced at Kenta.
"…Was that aimed at me?"
Kenta laughed. "Probably."
Haruto stood and followed Kenta into the hallway, the noise of the break washing over them.
"I don't make things complicated," Haruto said.
Kenta snorted. "You absolutely do. You just do it quietly."
Mei slowed her pace so they were walking together. "He overthinks. That's different."
"That's worse," Kenta replied. "At least when I mess things up, everyone sees it coming."
Haruto glanced between them. "Why does this feel like an intervention?"
Mei shrugged. "Because you're easy to read today."
He frowned. "I am not."
"You ran to school," she said calmly.
Kenta's head snapped toward him. "You did run."
Haruto regretted everything. "That was one time."
"That explains it," Kenta said, pointing dramatically. "Saturday nerves."
"I don't have nerves."
"You say that like it means something."
Mei pushed open the stairwell door. "You don't need to be nervous. It's just us."
Just us.
Haruto didn't know why that made his chest feel lighter and heavier at the same time.
Kenta hopped down a step ahead of them. "Exactly. Low expectations. Perfect setup."
"That's not reassuring," Haruto said.
"It is if you don't think too hard," Kenta replied.
Mei gave Haruto a brief look. "Try that."
He almost laughed. Almost.
———————————————————
By the time they reached the badminton hall, the noise from the main building had faded.
The sharper smell of the place hit Haruto as soon as he stepped inside. Polished wooden floors. The faint scent of sweat and resin. Nets stretched neatly across the courts, a few rallies already echoing through the space with quick, hollow pops.
This was familiar territory.
Kenta dropped his bag onto the bench and immediately grabbed a racket. "Finally. Somewhere I can legally hit things."
Mei set her bag down beside his, already changing her shoes. "You say that like you're accurate."
"I'm accurate enough," Kenta said. "It's the shuttle's fault if it disagrees."
Haruto laced his shoes, listening, letting the routine settle him. The moment he stood up, his body slipped into something automatic. Shoulders loose. Grip adjusted without thought.
"Hey," Kenta said, spinning his racket once. "After practice, we should actually decide about tomorrow."
Mei glanced at him. "You said we'd keep it simple."
"This is simple," Kenta replied. "Talking is simple."
Haruto rolled his shoulders. "You're the only one panicking."
Kenta grinned. "I prefer 'enthusiastic.'"
Mei looked at Haruto. "We'll talk after practice. If you're not completely dead."
"That's comforting," Haruto muttered.
A whistle cut through the hall.
Kenta stepped onto the court, bouncing lightly on his feet. "Alright. Enough talking."
Haruto followed, the floor cool under his shoes, the net stretching across his vision.
As the first shuttle flew into the air, his thoughts finally quieted.
For now.
Haruto returned a fast smash from Kenta, sweat running down his temple.
Then someone cleared their throat sharply from the next court over.
"Hey, that's not bad," said a voice. Calm. Confident.
Haruto glanced up. A boy was standing at the edge of the court, racket in hand, watching him.
Riku Aoyama.
The name clicked instantly. The one Haruto had heard in passing. Third-year. Senior. Apparently impossible to beat. The kind of player everyone whispered about after practice.
Riku moved like he'd walked onto the court a thousand times. Relaxed stance, eyes scanning, almost bored. He tossed a shuttle into the air and smashed it across the net with effortless precision. The shuttle zipped past Haruto with a sharp pop.
Haruto stumbled back just in time, barely returning it.
Kenta's jaw dropped. "Whoa. That's… him."
Haruto's chest tightened. The rumors didn't lie. He was fast. Smooth. Frustratingly calm.
Riku didn't say anything else. Just smirked lightly, holding his racket loosely, and motioned toward the net.
A silent challenge.
Haruto gripped his racket tighter. Something had shifted. This wasn't just practice anymore.
Riku smirked, raising an eyebrow. "You're holding back," he said, voice calm but sharp.
Haruto blinked. "I… what?"
"Come on," Riku said, tossing another shuttle in the air. "Let's see what you've got. One-on-one. Just you and me."
The hall seemed to shrink around Haruto. Every sound—shuttles popping, sneakers squeaking, Kenta's surprised gasp—suddenly amplified.
Kenta whispered beside him, barely hiding excitement. "Whoa… he's serious."
Haruto swallowed, gripping his racket. "I—I don't know if—"
Riku cut him off with a casual shrug. "You don't have a choice. If you want to keep showing off with your friends, this is how it works. One game. Winner takes the court."
Haruto's chest tightened. He had heard the name, the stories. He had never met anyone who made him feel this small just by standing there. And now, Riku was staring at him, waiting, calm and certain.
"Fine," Haruto muttered, stepping onto the opposite side of the net.
Kenta whispered again, more excited than before. "This is going to be insane."
Riku tossed the shuttle high, letting it drop with a soft pop onto Haruto's side.
The match had begun.
Haruto gripped his racket tighter as Riku served.
The shuttle zipped across the net like a bullet. Haruto barely managed to lift his racket in time, the impact jolting through his arm. He returned it clumsily, just enough to keep it in play.
Riku didn't move as much as Haruto expected. He just shifted slightly, letting the shuttle drop exactly where he wanted it. Then, with one smooth flick, it shot back.
Haruto lunged, barely reaching it. His feet slid on the polished floor. The shuttle went wide.
"Not bad," Riku said, his tone calm, almost bored. "But you're predictable."
Haruto's jaw tightened. "Predictable?"
"Yeah. You lean too much on reaction. Anticipate instead."
Another serve. Faster this time. Haruto jumped, twisted, barely hitting it over the net. His arm tingled from the effort.
Riku smirked again. "Better, but still—you're trying too hard."
Haruto's chest burned. His mind raced. Trying too hard? I've barely started.
Another shuttle came, and this time, Haruto focused on rhythm, not speed. He anticipated the angle before it left Riku's racket, swung with a cleaner motion, and landed the shot just inside the line.
Riku's eyes widened ever so slightly. A flicker of interest, almost imperceptible.
"Hmm," Riku said, a small grin forming. "Not bad at all. Looks like we might have some fun."
Haruto exhaled sharply, adrenaline coursing through him. This wasn't just practice anymore. This was a match. A real one.
And for the first time that day, he felt alive on the court.
Haruto gripped his racket tighter as Riku served.
The shuttle shot across the net like a missile. Haruto barely managed to lift his racket in time, the impact jolting through his arm. He returned it clumsily, more from reflex than control.
Riku moved almost lazily, small shifts of his feet, but each shot landed exactly where he wanted it. Haruto sprinted left, lunged right, jumped, twisted—sometimes just getting the shuttle to scrape over the net.
Another shot. Faster. Sharper. Haruto swung wildly, barely connecting. The shuttle skidded off at an awkward angle, but Riku was already in position, smacking it back with effortless precision.
Haruto stumbled, panting, heart hammering. How is he doing this?
"Come on," Riku said lightly, a smirk playing at his lips. "You can do better than that."
Haruto swung again, desperation building. Each return forced him to move faster than he thought possible, his arms burning, legs screaming for balance. The shuttle zipped past him twice, and he barely managed a scrape the third time.
Kenta on the sidelines whistled. "He's… insane."
Mei's eyes were wide but calm. "Haruto's trying. He's… keeping up… barely."
Riku's smirk didn't fade. "Predictable. You react, you don't anticipate." Another smash, this time angled sharp across the court. Haruto lunged, stretching every muscle, barely returning it.
His chest burned. His grip on the racket ached. His legs felt like lead. And still, Riku smiled, calm, untouchable.
For the first time, Haruto realized what it meant when people said someone was unbeatable.
And yet… he refused to let himself fall completely.
Haruto wiped sweat from his forehead and reset his stance, trying to calm his racing heart. Riku tossed the shuttle lightly, smirk still in place, and launched it across the net with a sharp flick.
Haruto lunged, twisted, and barely managed to scrape it back. His arms trembled from the effort, legs straining to cover the court. Every shot from Riku felt like a test, each faster and more precise than the last.
He missed another one. The shuttle hit the floor with a soft thud.
"Better," Riku said casually, smirking. "But not enough."
Haruto's chest heaved. I have to… I can't lose this easily…
He read Riku's stance a fraction earlier on the next shot, adjusting his swing just in time. The shuttle barely made it over, skimming the line. Riku raised an eyebrow, surprised, then responded immediately with another impossibly angled shot.
Haruto dived, sending the shuttle flying back with a desperate flick. He landed on one foot, almost tipping over, but he had done it. A tiny victory, almost imperceptible—but enough.
Kenta and Mei, standing on the sidelines, exchanged impressed glances.
"You're insane," Kenta muttered. "He's… barely keeping up!"
Mei nodded, eyes narrowing slightly. "Yeah… and still… he's holding his own."
Riku's calm expression didn't falter, but Haruto noticed the faint flicker of interest in his eyes. That subtle shift told him something. That maybe Riku was starting to take him seriously.
Haruto inhaled sharply, gripping his racket tighter. This wasn't just practice anymore. It was a fight he didn't intend to lose.
And for the first time, every muscle in his body was alive, every thought focused.
He wasn't unbeatable. But maybe… maybe he could at least make Riku work for it.
Haruto lunged for what felt like the hundredth shot, muscles screaming, breath ragged. He twisted, stretched, and swung… but it wasn't enough. The shuttle clipped the net and fell to the floor.
"Ugh…" Haruto sank to his knees, chest heaving, fingers gripping his racket like it could hold him together.
Riku walked over, racket in hand, calm as ever. He stopped in front of Haruto and offered a small, almost imperceptible nod.
"Not bad," Riku said. "For someone barely keeping up, you lasted longer than I expected."
Haruto looked up, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. "I… I just…"
"You didn't give up," Riku continued, tossing the shuttle lightly from hand to hand. "Most people fold halfway through. You didn't."
Haruto's chest tightened, a mix of exhaustion and pride. "I… I wasn't expecting…"
Riku's smirk returned, subtle, but genuine. "You're going to make this interesting next time."
Haruto nodded, still catching his breath. Losing had never felt quite like this—sharp, frustrating, but also… motivating.
Kenta and Mei cheered quietly from the sidelines.
"You were amazing," Kenta whispered, wide-eyed. "I can't believe he pushed you that hard!"
Mei simply gave a small, approving nod. "You didn't lose completely. That matters."
Haruto picked up his racket, chest still heaving. He didn't know how many more rallies like that he could survive—but one thing was certain: he wanted the next one.
And Riku? He had noticed.
Haruto sank onto the bench, still catching his breath, wiping sweat from his forehead. Kenta was bouncing excitedly beside him, recounting every shot in a dramatic whisper, while Mei nodded silently, her calm approval unmistakable.
Then Saki appeared at the edge of the court, carrying her bag. She paused when she saw him, tilting her head slightly.
"Wow," she said softly, almost to herself. "You look… exhausted."
Haruto gave a short, tired laugh. "That obvious?"
"You're practically glowing," she replied, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "In a good way. Like… proud exhausted."
He glanced at her, caught off guard. "I… guess I am."
Kenta elbowed him lightly. "See! Even Saki notices. You didn't embarrass yourself!"
Saki's gaze flicked to the court, then back at Haruto. "And that Riku guy… he's something else. But you didn't give up. That's what matters."
Haruto swallowed, a faint warmth spreading in his chest. "Yeah… I guess."
She smiled again, and this time it lingered. "You've got potential. Just… don't overdo it, okay?"
Haruto nodded, gripping his racket a little tighter. He didn't know if it was pride or something else that made his chest feel lighter.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew one thing: the next time he faced Riku, he wanted to last even longer.
From the shadows near the far corner of the badminton hall, Aoi leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. She had been here for a while, watching quietly, letting the rhythm of the game sink in.
Her eyes followed Haruto as he lunged and stretched, sweat glinting in the overhead lights. He moved differently from the others—focused, precise, but still a little hesitant. Aoyama Riku was impressive, no doubt, but there was something in the way Haruto refused to give in that caught her attention.
A small smile tugged at her lips. Interesting, she thought. He's… not like the rest.
She stepped back slightly, letting the shadows hide her presence. There was no rush. No reason to make herself known… not yet.
For now, watching him struggle, seeing him push past his limits, was enough.
Practice ended with the usual clatter of rackets and tired voices. The gym slowly emptied as students grabbed their bags and drifted out in small groups. Haruto slung his bag over his shoulder, muscles still aching from the match.
Kenta stretched dramatically. "I'm telling you, that rally took ten years off my life."
"You weren't even playing," Mei replied, deadpan.
"Emotional damage counts."
Haruto laughed quietly, the tension in his chest finally loosening. The loss still lingered, but it didn't sting as much anymore. If anything, it sat there like a challenge, waiting.
Outside, the sky had already started to dim, clouds tinted orange and gray. One by one, they split off at different turns. Kenta waved exaggeratedly before jogging ahead, Mei following with a small nod.
Soon, it was just Haruto and Saki.
They walked side by side, the familiar route home stretching ahead of them. The sound of their footsteps filled the comfortable silence.
"You did good today," Saki said after a moment.
Haruto glanced at her. "I lost."
"So?" she replied. "You didn't back down. That's different."
He scratched the back of his head, a little embarrassed. "Riku's on another level."
"Maybe," she said. "But levels can be climbed."
That made him smile.
Their houses came into view, standing right next to each other like always. Haruto slowed to a stop, shifting his bag on his shoulder.
"See you tomorrow," Saki said, already stepping toward her gate.
"Yeah. See you," he replied.
She disappeared inside, and Haruto stood there for a second longer than necessary, staring at the quiet street. His body was tired, his mind full, but somewhere deep down, he felt steady.
Tomorrow would come soon enough.