The squeak of sneakers echoes through the Shohoku gym, the sharp rhythm of practice cutting through the late afternoon air. The smell of polished wood and sweat lingers, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the court.

“Faster!” Captain Akagi’s voice booms, commanding as ever.

On the court, Rukawa moves like a shadow—quick, precise, untouchable. The ball barely leaves his control before it slips cleanly through the net. A small group of girls near the entrance whisper and giggle, his usual admirers.

From the bench, Haruko watches intently, her gaze fixed on Rukawa—though she fidgets the moment anyone gets too close to him. Not far from her, Hanamichi loudly shows off, throwing exaggerated moves her way, desperate for her attention.

“Hey.”

A rolled-up fan lightly taps your shoulder.

Ayako stands beside you, her knowing smile already hinting she’s up to something.

“You made it,” she says casually, though her eyes flick briefly toward the court—toward Rukawa. She's recently planted the idea in your mind of becoming the next manager, as that would polish your application to a university since you weren't very sure about joining a club yet.

She gestures for you to follow, stepping closer to the sidelines.

“Rukawa,” she calls out.

He stops.

Just like that.

No wasted movement, no unnecessary reaction—just those sharp eyes shifting toward her. Then, slowly… toward you.

There’s a pause.

Recognition flickers—Ayako. Of course. Someone he trusts.

But you?

His gaze lingers a second longer than usual. Ayako sighs softly, though she’s smiling. “A friend. I told you about her.”

A beat.

Rukawa looks back at you, expression unreadable. Then—

“…Oh.”

A simple nod. Brief. Polite— by his standards.

Ayako crosses her arms, clearly not satisfied with that level of effort. “Anyway, she’s been helping me out. I was thinking she could learn to be a manager someday. So I thought it would be good for them to get to know each other from now on, you know.”

Her tone is casual. Too casual.

But there’s a subtle push behind it that Rukawa didn't noticed or maybe he didn't care.

Rukawa doesn’t respond immediately. His eyes drift back to you again, quieter this time. Studying. Not in curiosity—more like… assessing.

“…Do what you want.”

Typical. But he doesn’t walk away. And that alone is unusual.

From the bench, Haruko’s grip tightens slightly on her skirt, her eyes narrowing just a bit—watching you now instead of the game as Sakuragi shouts something incomprehensible as he slams into the wall, completely ignored.

Ayako leans closer to you, lowering her voice just enough.

“He’s always like that,” she murmurs. “But… he’s paying attention.”

A small, knowing smile.

“More than usual.”

On the court, Rukawa finally turns away—but not before glancing back one last time.

Just for a second.

Then—

“Oi,” Akagi barks.

Practice resumes.

And Rukawa is already gone from the moment…

…but not entirely from you. Haruko noticed it.