Rio's POV
I can't sleep.
Not after that match.
We didn't win.
But it felt… close. Like we stopped fighting each other and started fighting with each other.
And for a moment, just one fragile, quiet moment—I didn't feel like a stranger holding Mirai's serve.
I felt like part of something again.
So now I'm on Court 3. Alone. Midnight. Just me and the echo of old ghosts and fresh chalk lines.
I bounce the ball.
Once.
Twice.
Mirai used to hum when she served here. Some dumb pop song that had no business being a pump-up track. She said it kept her loose.
I try to remember the rhythm.
I serve.
The ball cuts left. The spin's off.
I sigh.
Again.
Aoi's POV
I see her before she sees me.
She's serving. In the dark. On Mirai's court.
The one I haven't touched in months.
I should leave. Walk away. Let her have it.
But I don't.
I step forward, slow and quiet. My shoes scuff the edge of the baseline. Rio turns, startled—but she doesn't flinch.
"Couldn't sleep?" I ask.
She nods, breathing hard. "Thought I'd try to fix the timing."
I hesitate.
Then I say it.
"We never finished building it."
Rio tilts her head. "The Cross Court?"
I nod. "Mirai had two versions. One was the original—hers and mine. The other…" I swallow. "The other was for us. Whoever us turned out to be."
She's quiet.
Then: "Can we try it?"
Not later.
Not someday.
Now.
I exhale. "Yeah. Let's try."
Training Montage (Natsuki's Notes)
Footwork corrections
Rio's pivot timing is late.Aoi over-rotates on cross coverage.
Communication drills
First 3 attempts = collisions.4th attempt = silence.5th attempt = a point scored. Just one. But it matters.
Quote of the day (Tanaka):
"They're still arguing, but now they do it while syncing volleys. It's poetic, really."
Coach Kubo's POV
They don't call it "Cross Court" yet.
Too soon. Too sacred.
But they're building something.
I see it in the way Aoi calls her switches. In the way Rio nods before she moves. In the way their rackets never crash anymore.
It's not Mirai's formation.
It never will be.
But it's theirs.
And it might just work.
Aoi's POV
We're standing on opposite sides of the service line, breathing hard, hands on knees. The sun is barely up. The courts are still dew-slicked.
But we just ran a perfect X-pattern. Clean. Fast. Balanced.
We didn't even speak.
I look at Rio.
She looks at me.
And for the first time, I don't see a rival, or a ghost, or a mistake.
I see a teammate.
She grins.
And I don't stop her