After classes, the sun was still high, bathing the schoolyard in warm light. I was walking down the corridor when a voice came through the speaker:
— All first-year students, change for physical education. Today — volleyball. We're waiting for you in the gym.
I sighed. Physical education was never interesting to me. Movement, team spirit — all of it was foreign to me. But I couldn't skip it. I just headed where I was supposed to.
The locker room was filled with its usual bustle. I changed into my gym clothes and silently made my way to the gym. Others were already gathering there. Some were laughing, some were tossing the ball.
— Oh, Kaoru! — a familiar voice called out.
Yuzuki approached me, dressed in gym clothes, with that same lively expression in her eyes.
— I hope you won't stay silent the whole match. It would be boring, — she joked.
I just nodded. But inside, something stirred again. Not because of her words — but because of how she said them.
The teacher lined us up and divided us into teams. I ended up on the opposite side from her. Maybe it was for the best.
The match began.
I wasn't a strong player, but instincts and attention helped me not to get lost on the court. The ball flew across the hall, the hits became sharper, and the tension grew.
When I first served the ball — it flew straight to the zone where Yuzuki stood. She managed to hit it back and immediately looked at me.
— Nice! — she said cheerfully. — You know how to surprise.
I didn't answer. I just took my position again.
With every minute, I began to feel how the tension was fading. It was like the movement helped me forget. The noise, the shouts, the running — all of it distracted me. Even my thoughts stopped buzzing.
But somewhere in the middle of the game, I suddenly caught myself looking at Yuzuki again. Watching how she smiled, how she enjoyed every successful hit. Her ease — she wasn't pretending. She really was like that.
The match ended. I don't remember the score. That wasn't what mattered.
— See? Sometimes even volleyball can be a cure, — she said as she passed by me.
And again — that feeling inside, weak but persistent. As if I was belonging less and less to my coldness.
I walked out of the gym with damp clothes and a strange feeling inside. Maybe the day was ordinary. But inside, something had subtly shifted.