Seiyo Middle School — a quiet corner.
Sunlight filtered through the trees, scattering soft, dappled patterns across the ground.
The air carried a sense of solemnity that felt too heavy for their age.
"I'm leaving."
Sendoh's voice was calm and steady — gentle, yet firm, like a fallen leaf landing softly on Ake's heart.
He stood across from Ake, his eyes warm but filled with a trace of reluctance.
Ake, however, remained composed, as if he had long expected this moment.
"Do the others know?" he asked evenly, his tone devoid of surprise or emotion — just a simple question.
Sendoh shook his head. "Not yet. I haven't told them."
Ake gave a quiet hum in response, his gaze still and unreadable as calm water. "Have you decided where you're going?"
"An uncle reached out a while ago," Sendoh said, looking toward the horizon with a faint smile. "I haven't made up my mind yet, but the place he mentioned isn't bad. It's in Kanagawa."
He paused for a second, as if recalling something pleasant.
"It's by the sea. The scenery's nice… and I'll probably be able to catch a lot of fish there."
Ake raised a brow slightly. "You're going there just for that?"
Sendoh chuckled softly, his tone light. "That's part of it. But mainly, it's my family's decision."
Then his gaze returned to Ake, curious and probing. "What about you? After middle school — which school are you planning to go to?"
Ake didn't respond right away.
He stood silent for a few seconds, his eyes deep and distant. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm but carried a cold detachment. "It's too early to think about that. And besides—"
Before he could finish, that familiar aura began to rise again — the cold, suffocating energy that made people instinctively back away.
There it was.
That same feeling.
An icy, oppressive presence spreading from Ake's body, like the chill of a frozen cave.
Sendoh's expression tightened. He stared at Ake, eyes filled with both caution and unease.
He couldn't remember how many times he had felt that same suffocating aura from him.
It wasn't just cold indifference — it felt like something else, something buried deep within Ake was slowly awakening.
But just as quickly as it appeared, it faded.
Ake seemed to notice the change in himself. His expression softened slightly, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile crossed his lips.
"I'm planning to leave the basketball club too," he said quietly.
"What?!" Sendoh's eyes widened in disbelief. "You're leaving? Why?!"
Ake's lips curved faintly — it was hard to tell if it was amusement or concealment.
"Personal reasons."
He paused before continuing in a lighter tone. "Don't worry, I'm not quitting basketball. I just want to take a break for a year."
Sendoh fell silent.
He stared into Ake's mismatched eyes, searching for something — a sign, an answer — but all he found was calm, endless stillness.
"Does the coach know?" he finally asked.
Ake shook his head gently.
Sendoh sighed, a helpless smile tugging at his lips. "Right… once you've made up your mind, no one can change it, huh?"
He paused, his voice softening with a touch of regret. "Still, it's a shame, isn't it? We're a championship team. You're really giving up a chance at three championships in a row?"
He had hoped his words might stir something in Ake — a flicker of emotion, even a hint of hesitation.
But Ake's reaction made his heart sink.
His gaze turned cold again, and that icy aura returned, faint but sharp.
"That's their concern," Ake said flatly. "If they can't do it, they have no one to blame but themselves."
The invisible pressure that radiated from him made Sendoh's chest tighten.
For a brief moment, he could almost feel that the person in front of him wasn't someone his age — but something far older, heavier and more dangerous.
"What's with this guy…?"
The thought slipped unbidden into his mind.
Ake had changed.
He wasn't just stronger. He was… different.
The silence between them thickened.
A breeze drifted past, scattering a few fallen leaves across the ground.
The air carried an indescribable sense of distance — and unease.
"Huh? You're leaving the basketball club? Why? Did something happen?"
Rukia frowned slightly, her voice filled with concern and confusion.
She stood beside Ake, sunlight outlining her figure with a soft golden glow.
She had always been gentle — and perceptive.
She had already noticed the change in Ake lately: the subtle distance, the occasional chill, and those heterochromatic eyes that seemed to hide too many secrets.
She hadn't wanted to press him, but she couldn't stop herself from worrying.
Ake shook his head slightly, his tone calm but tinged with quiet fatigue. "It's personal. I just… need a break for a while."
He wasn't lying — but he wasn't telling the whole truth either.
There were some things he couldn't tell anyone. Not even her.
Rukia nodded slowly, her eyes lingering on his face.
"Ake-kun, you've been acting really strange lately," she said softly. "Sometimes it feels like you've become a completely different person."
There was no accusation in her tone — only gentle concern.
After a brief pause, she smiled faintly, as if trying to convince herself.
"I guess you're just too tired from leading the team. Since you've already decided, take a proper rest. I'll be supporting you."
Ake looked at her quietly.
In her clear eyes, he saw something he hadn't felt in a long time — warmth.
He rarely smiled. But this time, the corners of his lips curved slightly into a rare, gentle smile.
"Thank you, Rukia," he said softly, but with unmistakable sincerity.
Her cheeks flushed faintly, glowing under the afternoon sun.
She turned her head away, giving him a shy, playful glare. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Ake blinked, his tone unexpectedly teasing. "Is there something wrong with looking at you?"
"You're so annoying, Ake-kun!" she huffed, lightly stomping her foot in mock irritation.
Then, to hide the warmth spreading in her chest, she quickened her pace, walking ahead of him.
The two continued down the quiet street — one following behind the other.
Sunlight spilled across the road, the breeze brushing gently past.
It felt as if they were walking in their own little world, isolated from everything else — just their shadows and footsteps keeping them company.
Not far behind them, however, two sleek black sedans rolled slowly down the street, perfectly matching their pace.
The cars moved with precision, their drivers silent and serious — as though this wasn't the first time they had performed such a task.
Ake and Rukia's figures stretched long across the pavement, the late afternoon light framing them like a still, gentle painting.