The atmosphere of the basketball court was almost tangible, embodied by knitted eyebrows and flustered expressions, tickled with perspiration and effort. The taste of stress and physical extortion lay, particularly, thick on Ryōta's tongue as he pivoted and passed the ball across the court. Mitsui scored another three-pointer and furthered the gap between the upper- and underclassmen.

Ryōta swiped his white wrist band across his forehead, soaking up the beads of sweat as he tried his best to drone out Ayako's voice from the side-line as she complimented Mitsui for his score and lectured for his unmaintained posture during the shoot.

Ryōta turned on his heel, jogged down the remaining quarter of the field and pulled his focus on marking and stealing the ball. Ayako was seemingly, completely over the matter that had transpired only a couple of days ago, and he couldn't allow himself to linger on it, either.

Ryōta burst forward, intercepted a pass towards Rukawa and threw the ball at Shiozaki, who- after a surprised glance- powered forward. But Ryōta had noticed already that his games plays weren't on point today, but for a practice game it should suffice.

The final whistle blew and Akagi held his hand up. The match was officially over. Ryōta stretched his arms and headed toward the bench loaded with refreshments. He didn't need to glance at the scoreboard to know which side lost, Hanamichi's loud grumbles made it clear enough.

He sipped from his bottle, listening to the buzzing chatter around him, occasionally chirping in and flashing a smile. He tried his best not look past Kogure's head and catch glimpses of Ayako conversing with Akagi.

His heart tightened in his chest. He swallowed thickly and gazed at his shoes until an arm sneaked around his shoulder. Ryōta trailed the arm to find a turf of red hair, whose eyes narrowed into slits by pure irritation as he glared at Rukawa accusingly.

"If they passed the ball to me than a certain named noob, we would have won! Isn't that right, Ryo-chin?"

Hanamichi's expectant eyes fell on him, and Ryōta rolled his eyes, long since used to the rivalry between the two freshmen. He rolled the red-haired's arm off his shoulder and headed toward the changing rooms. "I'm heading home first."

"Uh," the red haired blinked and muttered sure seconds too late. His eyes fixed at the clock hanging on the adjacent wall, confusedly.

Practice was still on for another hour.

Ayako saw him leave from the corner of her eyes, her brows knitted momentarily at his early departure before her face softened when her thoughts landed on a certain letter she kept folded on her nightstand. His silhouette disappeared behind the door and her eyes lingered at the swinging doors.

"Ayako-san?"

Her head shot up, fastening on Akagi, his gaze sceptical with a tinge of concern as his eyes wandered towards the now, still standing doors. "Is there somewhere you need to go?"

Ayako stared at him for a moment before her gaze followed towards the door, and she wondered if anything good would come out of speaking to him now and decided against it. "Don't mind that. What were you saying before?"

Akagi didn't look too convinced. "Is something wrong with Miyagi?"

"I—" she halted, wetted her lips as she reconsidered her response. They didn't need to know what had happened between them. Their personal issues shouldn't be part of their extracurricular activities, so she shook her head and tried to act as neutral as possible. "No, I don't think that there's anything wrong with him."

"Is that so? Akagi glanced at Anzai-sensei, who nodded back at him from his position on the bench, seemingly unperturbed by Miyagi's sudden departure. "Then I hope his sudden disappearing won't be a regular occurrence."

"I hope so too." Ayako knew from the very beginning that Ryōta began to play basketball because of his infatuation for her. She had hoped between the games and practice, he would gain a burning passion for the sports itself, and he had. He had aimed to become the number one-point guard in the prefecture, and fully separated her from his ambition—from his reasons to play the sport. So, even if it went south between the two of them, she had hoped he would remain a part of the team, regardless.

Had she hoped for too much?

Had she underestimated the intensity of his feelings for her?

Could he barely stand to be in the same room as her?

Ayako chewed on her lips as she sat down, the thoughts roaming inside her mind droned out the incessant squeaks of shoes against the polished floor as practice recommenced.

Her eyes wandered towards the door, and her leg suddenly twitched. She placed a hand on it, pushing it down, quieting the quivers under the palm of her hand. It wasn't her place to check on him. She tightened her trembling hands into fists, repeating inside her mind that he was probably changing in the locker room, anyway. It wasn't like she could suddenly waltz in there.

What good will seeing him bring anyway?

I'll only make it worse.

She had learned that from her last attempt. Speaking to him was futile.

Ayako took a deep breath and flexed her fingers, reasoning that there was nothing she could do except give it time. He would get over it soon enough.

She sighed and gazed up, catching from her peripheral vision the coach watching her.

"You may check up on him."

What? Her eyes fastened on him, quite surprised."That's not necessary. I think, he's fine."

"It's an order from Anzai-sensei, Ayako-san." Mitsui butted in, from across the court without looking at her, marking the person behind him. "Are you disobeying him?"

Ayako swallowed and wetted her lips as she glanced back at the coach, who was simply staring at her, encouragingly. Sighing, she stood up, walking calmly toward the door despite her legs itching to run after it swung shut behind her.

She breathed out quietly and knocked on the boys' changing room thrice and waited for a response that never came. Carefully, she opened the door and glimpsed inside, wondering whether he had left already when she saw his silhouette at the corner of his room, shirtless, hair dripping wet from a shower, and his school trousers hanging on his hips, unzipped with his trunks peeking out.

Ayako swallowed and moved quietly to tap his shoulder. "Ryōta?"

"Ayako," his eyes fastened on him, his brows furrowing confusedly. "What you doing here? It's an all men area."

"The others wanted me to check up on you. Are you alright?" she said, fighting down her own worry when something flickered in his eyes.

Figures. She didn't come to see him on her own accord. He should be expecting that, and yet his heart still thumped inside his chest from anticipation, and he wondered when it would stop, and if it would ever stop.

Ryōta cleared his throat, reaching for a white singlet he normally wore under his shirt. "Then tell them not to worry. I'm fine."

Something about his voice told her he wasn't fine. Ayako bit the inside of her cheek. "I can't exactly trust that, can I? What I'm seeing right now and what you're telling me doesn't exactly fit," she pointed at him from top to bottom. His tiredness was indisputably evident. She could tell all he wanted was to leave, or perhaps did he want her to leave—?

"I said I'm fine, didn't I?" Ryōta sighed loudly and slammed his locker shut. "You trust me on the court, so you can trust me now too." He grabbed his duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder.

Ayako's heart thumbed in her chest, his words pierced like sharp knifes through her skin. There were many things she wanted to say but from them all she chose the one that will least give her away. "You're not acting like yourself and you know it. As your manager, I'm telling you to sort it out. Next time you're on court play like you always do, will you?"

He wanted to laugh, to get rid of the acidic feeling in his mouth, but he only kept his mouth firmly shut and zipped his fly as he walked past her. Silently, he closed the door behind him and leaned on it. He shut his eyes, took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. He couldn't stand seeing her looking at him like this, so worried as though she cared. Her expressions and kind eyes still leaped his heart in his chest, and it hurt (hurt hurt hurt). He wondered whether it would ever stop—wondered if he could ever stop.

Ryōta sighed and adjusted the strap over his shoulder. He wouldn't add up to his mistakes. Ayako wasn't interested. She made it clear enough for him, holding on to any kind of hope would be lunatic. It wasn't healthy for him, neither for his heart. He had learnt his lesson. There was never a chance for him to carry such a beauty in his arms, much less hold hands with.

And despite that—despite all that—he was in love with her.

Like an idiot.

Ryōta sighed and pushed off from the door and left.

The door clinked shut.

Ayako leaned against his locker and closed her eyes, calming her breathing as the lids of her eyes burned, and she thought of his eyes- of the undecipherable emotions glinting in his amber eyes the second he saw her, and she remembered the resignation and tiredness of his posture as though her sole existence was draining his energy.

Their interactions were already few and far between since yesterday, and if they kept it up, surely the rest of the team would catch up with it. It would eventually ruin the team atmosphere and their dynamic might take damage as well.

There was no chance of them being friends after this—not when her entire existence was hurting him.

Ayako chewed on her lips. She would have to minimise contact without avoiding him. It would be difficult since there was practice and classes, but she would have to try her best. There's nothing else she could do. The proximity between them would hurt him regardless, she could only hope that he heals more than hurt.

Ayako sighed and tightened her ponytail, slightly wondering why he had to be serious about it now. He was one of the basketball players and she their manager, even as she was his classmate their relationship should have strictly adhered to these roles—nothing else.

She knew from the start that this type of love didn't belong at the court. For the next couple of days—weeks, months—it would only scatter awkwardness around the team atmosphere and ruining the dynamic, and they weren't even breaking up. It was only a case of unrequited love.

Ayako squeezed her eyes shut.

It was an impossibility from the start.

There's no way she could tell him—I like you too—with so much on stakes. For the sake of the team, she had banned herself from viewing him any more than a team member, and he needed to do the same.

For the sake of the team, he needed to forget her too.

He should see her as no more than a manager, and not as a girl he could have been with at a different time.

I have been thinking about writing Ayako's response since I've read your reviews. I think, it's only fair if I provide her point of view as well. But I'm not quite sure what she thinks about Miyagi. Of course, I ship them, but they weren't the focus of the manga (which I love by the way!).

On my take, the only reason she rejected him at the beginning was because she didn't know him well. Ryōta also didn't come off as very serious about her after he tried (and failed) to get along with other girls.

But they became reasonably close friends toward the end of the manga anyway, so there is obviously potential.

But this two-shot will probably end there as unrequited love, as sadly as it sounds. But I hope, you have enjoyed it anyway!