Romantic Relations (6)
The grueling Interhigh women's volleyball finals had finally wrapped up.
Rena wiped the sweat soaking her hands with a handkerchief.
She barely knew the rules, yet she'd gotten shockingly immersed in the match.
Sakuya's brilliance and the opposing school's fierce fight had been dazzling.
Rena, who had always dismissed sports as worthless clownery akin to modern art, found her views shifting a bit.
'Not bad. Sports, I mean.'
She could sort of understand now why people got so hyped about sports, athletes, and the drama.
Something unidentified burned in her chest.
Unfamiliar, but not unpleasant—this strange sensation captivated her with its freshness.
The only downside was that the trigger happened to be Sakuya.
"Well, whatever."
Thanks to her, watching volleyball or other sports might make for a decent hobby from now on.
"Iris goes to baseball games sometimes... maybe I should tag along?"
Gaining a hobby to share with Iris was welcome news for Rena.
She was starting to regret a lifetime spent knowing nothing but drawing.
"Nah, maybe not that big a deal."
The one who shattered the shell around Honjo Rena was none other than Shin Tae-il.
Without him, she'd never have felt this peculiar thrill from sports.
Rena glanced at the massive scoreboard.
25 : 12
25 : 27
28 : 26
25 : 21
The second set had been a tough loss after a hard-fought battle, and the third a bloodbath they barely won.
The fourth was a given.
A decisive 3-1 victory for Yuuma High.
Without a doubt.
It had been an insane nail-biter.
By the fourth set, both sides were so drained—physically and mentally—that mistakes flew left and right.
If it'd gone to a fifth, the outcome would've been anyone's guess.
Rena would've enjoyed that too.
Honestly, she didn't care if Yuuma won Interhigh or not.
Though the guy next to her probably would've been a total pain with his over-immersion.
'Not here now, though.'
Rena shot a glare at Sakuya, still sprawled motionless on the court.
Athletes just rubbed her the wrong way.
She half-hoped the girl would pass out from exhaustion and get carted off to the hospital.
Rena sneered.
"Doubt she'll be up for hanging out later."
Ideally, they'd ship her back to the dorms to rest, and she could bolt back to Tokyo with Tae-il.
The court mirrored her mood—still chaotic.
No explosive cheers or joy from the winners.
The match had ended on the enemy ace's absurd service error.
A victory that felt utterly unreal.
Players and fans alike reacted awkwardly, subdued.
But as time passed, the buzz slowly returned.
Process aside, Yuuma had clinched their third straight title.
Praise rained on Yuuma, and their ace Sakuya's name echoed endlessly.
"Jeez."
Rena pursed her lips as the fans in front recapped the match excitedly.
Ironically, Rena had no one to share her feelings with—joy or otherwise.
As she packed her laptop and stuff, her eyes locked on the empty seat where Shin Tae-il had been.
"What a clown."
Her narrowed gaze wasn't friendly.
He'd insisted on not leaving her alone, even sitting right next to her.
"As if he was worried about leaving me."
The second Sakuya collapsed post-match, Tae-il bolted from his seat.
Even though only staff could enter.
He looked ready to barrel past anyone blocking the court.
If he pulled it off, it'd make big magazine headlines.
"Famous before band debut, huh."
Grumbling, Rena finished packing, grabbed her bag, and followed Tae-il's path.
Figuring the idiot might be spacing out in the hall—she'd at least keep him company.
'So hollow...'
The overly surreal win left Sakuya feeling burned out.
She'd blown sets on errors plenty in intramurals.
Service faults too—who hasn't at the student level?
They weren't pros; compromises had to be made.
She made cringey mistakes herself.
Girls might mature faster than boys, but they were still growing.
Middle school especially—bodies unfinished, skills raw.
No matter what, intramurals and Interhigh were amateur kids' tales of youth and passion. Demanding pro-level play was too harsh, right?
Few club kids aimed pro post-graduation, even if dedicated.
Seniors quit for college or job prep.
Schools blocked pro pursuits for management reasons.
Club activities were just a phase.
A fleeting moment—schools and parents didn't want kids ruining futures for it.
Sakuya knew that all too well.
Her lifelong dream rejected, belittled by closest family.
Hic.
She opened her eyes.
The blinding gym lights made her squint.
Then, a sob from beyond the net.
Sakuya tilted her head toward it.
Shirakawa High's ace—the girl whose service error doomed them—was crying.
Seniors comforted her.
"Should be me crying..."
It felt like edging to climax, then stopping cold.
Body exhausted, but soul incomplete—craving more intense highs, her inner voice screaming for it.
Sakuya craved extreme experiences.
Intense stimuli etched indelibly in her brain, unforgettable even years later.
Even if it wrecked her body.
All these moments would fuel her future manga.
In that sense, this win was nearly the worst.
"You won—why the long face?"
A shadow fell over her.
Shin Tae-il.
He grinned, extending a hand.
"Good work."
"Haha... how'd you get in here?"
"This."
Tae-il flaunted the 'STAFF' lanyard around his neck, swinging it.
"No way—that's for staff only..."
"One of your seniors just handed it over."
He thumbed toward a senior on the bench chugging water, chatting with teammates.
She glanced over, met Sakuya's eyes, and...
'Nailed it, right?'
She winked awkwardly, thumbs-up.
"That damn senior..."
Sakuya ground her teeth at the smug show-off vibe.
"Gonna spill all her secrets before she graduates..."
"Haha, what'd she do?"
"Not exactly wrong, but..."
Brushing it off as the senior's fault for pissing her off, Sakuya grumbled.
"Anyway? Plot revenge slowly then..."
Tae-il wiggled his extended hand.
"My arm's killing me—grab it already? Everyone's staring; it's embarrassing."
"Pfft."
Sakuya chuckled at his whine, reaching—then hesitated.
Her hands were sweat-soaked.
Tae-il gently snatched her hand anyway.
Gripping the slick palm tight, he slowly pulled her up.
"You were awesome, Ace."
"Huh?"
"More than anyone here."
His surprise praise flushed her face; he smirked.
"Here—towel and drink. That senior said pass it on."
Sakuya blankly eyed the items.
"You look like a total manager, Taichi."
"What? Want me as your one-day manager?"
"Haha. Sounds good."
Perfect victory prize—she wiped her sweat-drenched face.
The towel soaked up the cooling chill on her skin.
"Interview today, right?"
"Surprised?"
"Kinda."
She'd seen him interviewed, but not doing one—curious.
His interest sparked, Sakuya probed.
"Wanna watch?"
"Tempting, but nah. Already pushing it being here."
Tae-il shrank under glares from volleyball seniors and stares from schoolmates up in the stands.
"You're really popular, Sakuya..."
"Haha!"
She burst laughing at his timidity.
"Duh. Athletes without fans are corpses. Artists too, right?"
"Yep. No fans, no life."
Idols or athletes.
All thrived on fan love.
Tae-il wryly smiled as Sakuya waved both arms to the crowd.
Exhausted to collapse, yet she beamed, moving them.
In his eyes, she was a born star—blessed, beloved by all. Too good to end as just a mangaka.
Responding to cheers, she leaned on him unsteadily.
"Why'd you rush the court? Match isn't even over."
"Panicked. Complaint?"
"Panicked?"
"You collapsed right after. Came to, and..."
He shrugged vaguely.
Sakuya's eyes drooped.
"Sorry, worried?"
"Of course. Thought you passed out."
"Haha. Legs just gave out."
She was confident in stamina, but today was brutal.
'All your fault.'
Knowing he watched, she'd pushed extra—jumps and attacks double her average.
Yet Shirakawa held firm; their strength was unreal.
Chills even now—she glanced back.
Shirakawa's ace, freshly consoled, glared daggers, tears wiped.
Sakuya flashed a light smile, turned away.
"Greetings, then closing ceremony?"
"Yeah."
Usually separate gyms, but finals shared with men's—women's had to clear fast.
"After? No interview stuff?"
"Nope."
She'd skipped men's match as special exception.
"Just one interview—won't take long."
"Cool. I'll wait with Honjo. Don't wanna leave her sulking too long."
"Haha. Honjo pouting's bad news. Later."
"Nail the interview."
"Will do."
Sakuya headed to her team's bench; Tae-il to the lobby for Rena.
"Oh."
Tae-il stopped abruptly.
Sakuya, watching quietly, tilted her head.
Grinning mischievously at her cluelessness, he pulled a paper from his pocket, flapping it.
"Know what this is, Sakuya?"
"Not psychic."
"My report card—delivered home yesterday."
"Wha—?"
"Scores match my estimates. Looking forward to it?"
"W-wait, Taichi...!"
"Later!"
Sakuya stared blankly like a dog losing its chicken.
Tae-il grinned like a kid pranking successfully, dashing away.
Her sudden freeze drew her puzzled senior over.
"Boyfriend gone?"
"..."
"So? How was it? My perfect tosses—as setter and Cupid?"
The senior poked her side slyly.
"Flawless, right?"
"Sigh. We'll see later, senpai."
"Huh? S-Sakuya? Why so scary all sudden! Sakuyaaaa!"
"Sorry!"
Tae-il bowed with his now-familiar prayer hands.
His target: Rena, left alone in the stands when he bolted.
"Couldn't just wait up top? You came down for me?"
"Yeah. Figured you'd be stuck outside, fidgeting—thought I'd keep you company."
Never dreamed he'd enter the court—she chuckled dryly.
"Got some skills, huh?"
Rena eyed the staff lanyard.
Tae-il slyly removed it, gauging her mood.
"Haha. Lucky—I know a volleyball senior...?"
"Who hands out staff passes to casual acquaintances?"
"Uh, yeah...?"
He blinked at the lanyard.
"Why'd she give me this...?"
"Sigh."
Rena rubbed her temple, shaking her head.
She got it; he didn't.
She jabbed him pityingly.
"You hear 'idiot' a lot, don't you?"
"Huh? First time."
"Ugh, wanna punch you..."
His innocent denial made her fist tremble.
"And you, Honjo?"
"Me?"
Her eyes widened; he nodded.
"Report cards dropped yesterday. Wanna compare?"
"D-do we have to...?"
"Your average?"
"Uh, 6... something."
"Mine's over 90."
"Urk..."
Rena hung her head.
His report card jab hit like a solar plexus punch.
Familiar pain—she pictured Iris, always beaten at first but striking back with grades.
"You... sound like Iris."
"Compliment?"
"Insult from my side."
"Haha. Arisugawa'd be sad."
"Try telling her."
She clenched her fist threateningly.
Of course.
It wasn't threatening at all—like a kitten hissing at its owner. He chuckled.
"Fine, won't tell. Everything today stays secret from Arisugawa and Ayane?"
"Deal."
Relieved, but uneasy, she slyly extended her pinky.
"J-just in case... pinky promise?"
"Break it, swallow a thousand needles?"
"Thousand brush hairs better?"
"Scarier? Kinda realistic..."
"Then don't break it."
"Yep."
She glared; he meekly hooked pinkies.