Taiki stared at Room 205's door like it might bite him. Next to him - well, two meters away - Maki mirrored his position in front of Room 204.

  "So," Maki said.

  "So," Taiki echoed.

  "We're neighbors."

  "Yup."

  They both kept staring at their respective doors.

  "At least we're not alone in this?" Maki offered, fidgeting with her bag strap.

  "Yeah, because hearing you deal with morning-person Sato through the wall is gonna make everything better."

  "Hey, maybe Shiori will protect you from his five AM protein shake lectures."

  "If she's not too busy being amazing at everything." Taiki kicked at nothing. "Does she have a fan club?"

  "Three, actually." Maki pulled out yet another snack. "One for basketball, one for her looks, and one that's just... general appreciation? I never really got that one."

  "Great. My roommate has three fan clubs. I have three participation awards. From elementary school."

  "Could be worse."

  "How?"

  "Could be four fan clubs?"

  They shared another look.

  "You know we have to actually go in at some point, right?" Maki said around a mouthful of whatever she was stress-eating now.

  "Do we though?"

  "Pretty sure sleeping in the hallway's against dorm rules."

  "Add it to the list." Taiki pulled out his phone. "Right under 'mixed gender rooms' and 'mandatory sports'."

  "And 'five AM breakfast'."

  "And 'living next to you'."

  "Rude." Maki threw a wrapper at him. It fluttered pathetically to the ground halfway between them. "...I'm not picking that up."

  "So what are you waiting for anyway?" Taiki asked, still fixed on his door like it held the secrets of the universe.

  Maki's snack wrapper crinkled. "Sato. That idiot ran off to practice without giving me the keys."

  "Wait." Taiki patted his pockets. Then his bag. Then his pockets again. "Oh no."

  "Don't tell me-"

  "I don't have mine either."

  "Seriously?"

  Maki slid down her door until she hit the floor, legs sprawled out. "This is just perfect."

  Taiki joined her, keeping to his side of the hallway. "At least Shiori's probably responsible enough to have hers."

  "Unless she's still at basketball practice." Maki dug through her bag. "Want some chips?"

  "What flavor?"

  "Seaweed."

  "Pass."

  They sat there, Maki crunching away while Taiki counted ceiling tiles.

  "We're idiots," Maki announced.

  "Speak for yourself."

  "Says the guy who also forgot his keys."

  "...fair point."

  Taiki's head drooped forward, the wall becoming surprisingly comfortable as his eyes grew heavy. The fluorescent lights buzzed above, a monotonous lullaby that-

  "OH MY GOD, FINALLY!" Maki's screech jolted him awake. His heart slammed against his ribs as he caught sight of two figures approaching.

  Shiori glided down the hallway like she owned it, her basketball jacket draped over one shoulder. Next to her, Sato bounced along, still in his practice gear and radiating way too much energy for - Taiki checked his phone - 7:45 PM.

  "You guys look comfy," Sato grinned, keys jangling in his hand.

  "We've been waiting forever," Maki complained, scrambling to her feet. "Some people actually need their keys to get in."

  Shiori raised an eyebrow at Taiki, who was still frozen against the wall. "Forgot yours too?"

  "I- uh-" His brain short-circuited. Up close, she was even more intimidating, all perfect posture and calculated movements.

  "He's as responsible as I am," Maki chimed in, earning a glare from Taiki.

  "Sorry about that!" Sato rubbed the back of his neck. "Got carried away with practice. But hey, at least you two got to bond!"

  "Yeah, nothing builds friendship like being locked out together," Taiki muttered.

  "Could've texted me," Shiori said, already unlocking their door. The keys moved with practiced precision in her hands.

  Taiki's mouth went dry. "Didn't have your number."

  "Well, now you know for next time." She pushed the door open, revealing their room. "Coming?"

  Taiki's eyes darted desperately to Maki as Shiori disappeared into their room. He flailed his arms in what he hoped was a clear SOS signal, mouthing "help me" with exaggerated panic.

  Maki, the traitor, just grinned and gave him a thumbs up. "Have fun, neighbor!" She practically skipped into her room after Sato.

  Taiki stood frozen in the hallway, arms still mid-flail. Through the open door of 204, he caught Maki peeking out, making shooing motions with her hands. He shot her his best death glare.

  "You good out there?" Shiori called.

  "Peachy," Taiki muttered, dropping his arms. He glanced one last time at Maki, who was now making kissy faces at him. He mimed strangling her before shuffling toward his doom.

  Taiki stepped into the apartment, his shoes suddenly fascinating as he avoided looking directly at Shiori. The place smelled new - fresh paint and something citrusy.

  "Kitchen's on the left," Shiori said, dropping her jacket on a hook by the door. "Living room's connected. Rooms are those two doors on the right wall."

  Taiki's eyes darted around, taking in the layout. The kitchen gleamed with stainless steel appliances, opening into a modest living space with a couch and TV. Two identical doors lined the right wall, and he spotted the bathroom straight ahead, opposite the entrance.

  "Left room's yours," Shiori said, already heading toward the right door. "Unless you want-"

  "Left is fine!" His voice cracked.

  A muffled thud and laugh filtered through the wall - probably Maki dropping something next door. Taiki envied her right now. At least Sato wouldn't kill her with his bare hands.

  "Bathroom's shared," Shiori added, pausing at her door. "We should probably figure out schedules."

  "Right. Schedules. Good idea." He was starting to sound like a broken robot.

  Through the wall, he heard Maki's distinct cackle, followed by what sounded like Sato's endless stream of volleyball talk. Their chaos somehow made his own silence even more awkward.

  "I'm gonna-" he gestured vaguely at his assigned door, desperate to escape.

  "Sure," Shiori said, her expression unreadable. "Oh, and Tsumugi?"

  He froze, hand on the doorknob. "Yeah?"

  "Try not to forget your keys tomorrow."

  Taiki's stomach did a weird flip as he slipped into his room, closing the door maybe a bit too quickly. He pressed his back against it, heart racing like he'd just escaped a tiger's den.

  "Get it together," he muttered to himself, sliding down until he hit the floor. "She's just a person. A really tall, intimidating person who could probably break you in half, but still just a person."

  "Hey," Shiori's voice came through the wood. "I'm ordering takeout. Want anything?"

  "I'm good!" His voice cracked again. Fantastic.

  "You sure? It's curry from Mikoto's."

  His stomach betrayed him with a loud growl. Of course it did. Because the universe hated him.

  "...I heard that," she said.

  Taiki buried his face in his hands. This was it. This was how he died - of pure embarrassment on his first day in the dorms.

  "Fine," Taiki called through the door. "But I'm paying you back."

  "Whatever." Her footsteps moved away, and he heard the rustle of what had to be takeout menus.

  "Tsumugi?" Shiori's voice drifted through the door again. "They need the order in five. Chicken or pork?"

  His brain short-circuited. Even curry choices felt like a test he was going to fail. "Uh... whatever you're having?"

  "Both it is."

  "Wait, what? No, that's not-"

  But she was already talking to someone on the phone, rattling off their order with the same precision she probably used to nail three-pointers.

  20 minutes later, a knock on his door made him jump. "Food's here," Shiori called.

  Taiki stared at the ceiling, wondering if he could fake sudden onset food poisoning. But his stomach growled again, louder this time, making the decision for him.

  "Coming," he sighed, hauling himself up. At least if she was going to kill him, he'd die with a full stomach.

  Taiki sat cross-legged at the low table, his curry untouched while he watched Shiori demolish her portion with scary efficiency.

  He poked at his rice, building tiny mountains and valleys. Both curry portions sat in front of him - chicken and pork, because apparently his indecision meant he got double everything now.

  "Not hungry?" Shiori asked between bites.

  "No! I mean, yes. I mean-" Taiki shoved a spoonful in his mouth to stop the word vomit. The curry was actually amazing, but his throat felt too tight to really taste it.

  His hands were sweating. Why were his hands sweating? It wasn't like Shiori had done anything threatening. She'd barely said ten words to him since they sat down. Yet here he was, acting like she might snap him in half if he breathed wrong.

  He snuck another glance at her, trying to figure out why she terrified him so much. Nothing about her screamed "dangerous" - she was just eating curry, for crying out loud. But something about her presence made him feel like he was sitting next to a sleeping tiger.

  "Sorry," Taiki muttered, more to his curry than to her.

  Shiori's chopsticks paused halfway to her mouth. "For what?"

  "For... this." He gestured vaguely at the table, the room, himself. "Being stuck with me as a roommate. I know it's not ideal."

  "Why wouldn't it be ideal?"

  "Because you're..." Taiki trailed off, realizing there was no good way to end that sentence. You're a basketball star? You have three fan clubs? You're way too cool to be sharing space with someone who can't even set a volleyball straight?

  "I'm what?" There was an edge to her voice now.

  "Nothing. Never mind. The curry's great." He shoved another spoonful in his mouth.

  "No, finish what you were saying." Shiori set down her chopsticks. "Because I'm what, exactly?"

  Taiki wished he could melt into the floor. Or better yet, rewind time and delete the last thirty seconds of his life. "I just meant... you probably had different expectations for your roommate. Someone more..." He waved his spoon in a vague circle, searching for the right word. "Athletic?"

  "Did I say I wanted an athletic roommate?"

  "Well, no, but-"

  "Then don't apologize for things I haven't complained about." She picked up her chopsticks again. "And stop assuming what I want. You don't know me."

  Taiki stared at his curry, face burning. Great. Day one and he'd already managed to offend his roommate. At this rate, he'd set a new personal record for social disasters.

  Shiori sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Sorry. That came out harsher than I meant it to. Training was brutal today, and I'm still wound up."

  "It's fine," Taiki mumbled, still fascinated by his curry mountains.

  "No, it's not. I shouldn't take my frustration out on you." She stretched her shoulders, wincing slightly. "Coach had us doing suicide drills for an hour straight because someone missed morning practice."

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Taiki's legs ached just thinking about it. He'd done exactly one suicide drill in middle school PE and thought he was going to die.

  "So," Shiori said, her tone lighter. "Volleyball, huh?"

  Taiki groaned. "Please don't."

  "What? I'm just asking."

  "It wasn't exactly my first choice."

  "What was?"

  "Hiding in a closet until graduation?"

  That got a snort out of her. "Not technically a sport."

  "Yeah, the student council wasn't impressed with that option either." Taiki stabbed at his curry. "Sato kind of... recruited me. If by recruited you mean 'physically dragged onto the court and wouldn't take no for an answer.'"

  "Sounds like Sato." Shiori leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "But why setter? Sato told me. That's like, the hardest position."

  "Wait, you know volleyball positions?"

  "I know sports. All of them." She shrugged like this was completely normal. "Setter's basically like point guard in basketball. You control the game flow, coordinate attacks..."

  "Oh god." Taiki's head hit the table. "I'm going to die."

  "It's not that bad."

  "I hit the wall. Backward. The wall that was behind me."

  "Everyone starts somewhere." She paused. "Though maybe not quite that far behind."

  "I just don't get it," Taiki said, picking at his curry. "Why force everyone into sports? Some people aren't built for it. Like, I tried baseball in middle school and hit myself in the face with the bat."

  "How did you even-"

  "Don't ask. Then there was soccer, where I somehow kicked the ball into my own team's goal. Twice. In the same game. From midfield."

  Shiori's eyes widened. "That's actually impressive."

  "Track and field? Tripped over my own feet during the hundred-meter dash. Swimming? Nearly drowned in the shallow end. Basketball..." He glanced at her. "Actually, maybe I shouldn't tell that story to you."

  "No, now you have to."

  "Let's just say the nurse had to explain to my mom why I had a perfect basketball-shaped bruise on my forehead. For two weeks."

  "Okay, but-"

  "And don't even get me started on tennis. Or gymnastics." Taiki stabbed his curry again. "Some people just aren't meant for sports. That's like... scientific fact or something."

  "That's not a thing."

  "It should be. They could do a whole study on me. 'Local Student Defies Laws of Physics: Manages to Fail at Every Sport Simultaneously.'"

  "You're being dramatic."

  "Am I though?" Taiki raised an eyebrow. "I suck. Big time. No reason it would change tomorrow."

  Shiori set down her chopsticks with a sharp click. "Okay, that's enough."

  "What?" Taiki looked up from his curry mountain range.

  "The pity party. The 'I suck at everything' routine." She fixed him with a stare that made him want to crawl under the table. "You know what your problem is?"

  "My complete lack of hand-eye coordination?"

  "You've already decided you're going to fail." She pointed her chopsticks at him. "Every time you step onto a court, you're not even trying. You're just waiting to mess up so you can say 'see, told you so.'"

  Taiki opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. He'd never thought about it that way.

  "Look," Shiori said, her voice softer. "Nobody's born good at sports. Not even me. You think I came out of the womb doing three-pointers?"

  "Well, no, but-"

  "But nothing. I practiced. Every day. For years." She leaned back, crossing her arms. "You want to know why Sato made you setter?"

  "Because he's clinically insane?"

  "Because setters need one thing more than anything else - the ability to think fast and adapt. And from what I've seen, you're pretty good at that part."

  Taiki snorted. "When have you ever seen me think fast?"

  "Since you've arrived in this school. Maki told me everything. Every time you were freaking out about a club or sport, you somehow managed to keep calm. Redirected anxiety into jokes. That's exactly what a setter does - takes chaos and turns it into something useful."

  Taiki stared at her, curry forgotten.

  "So stop telling yourself you can't do it." Shiori picked up her chopsticks again. "At least try failing at volleyball because you actually tried, not because you were too scared to really attempt it."

  The words hit harder than Taiki expected. He poked at his curry, mulling them over.

  "Also," Shiori added, "eat your food before it gets cold. Both portions. I didn't order them just to watch you play architect with the rice."

  Taiki flinched at Shiori's commanding tone, but found himself automatically reaching for his spoon. Something about her voice just made you want to obey. Maybe that's how she got to be team captain - just order people around until they did what she wanted.

  "This isn't happening," Taiki muttered, his eye twitching. "They can't be serious."

  The volleyball nets stretched across one half, while basketball hoops dominated the other. And there, right at the dividing line, stood Maki, doubled over with laughter.

  "Oh, but they are!" Maki wheezed between giggles. "All year long! Front row seats to the Taiki Tsumugi Volleyball Spectacular!"

  "I hate you."

  "No you don't." She wiped tears from her eyes. "This is perfect. I get to practice basketball and watch you try to set at the same time. It's like dinner and a show!"

  "I'm transferring schools."

  "Too late!" Maki sang, bouncing on her toes. "Besides, Sato's already spotted you. Look alive!"

  Taiki's shoulders slumped as Sato waved enthusiastically from across the gym.

  "This is karma," Taiki said flatly. "I must have done something terrible in a past life."

  Maki just grinned, backing toward her side of the gym. "Don't worry, I'll make sure to document all your greatest hits. Especially the backward ones!"

  "I hate you so much right now."

  "Love you too!" She called back, skipping away. "Break a leg! Or maybe don't, actually. That might be too on-brand for you."

  Taiki dragged his feet as Sato pulled him toward a group of players who looked like they'd stepped out of a pro sports magazine.

  "Everyone, meet our new setter!" Sato announced, practically vibrating with excitement as he pushed Taiki forward.

  Taiki's stomach dropped as five pairs of eyes locked onto him. He recognized Daichi immediately - kind of hard to miss someone who looked like they could bench press a car. The ace's intense stare made Taiki want to melt into the floor.

  "This is the guy who set the ball backwards?" Hiro asked, gum snapping as he grinned. "Legendary, dude."

  Jin punched his palm enthusiastically. "Finally! Fresh blood! We'll make you a champion, even if it kills you!"

  "Please don't kill me," Taiki mumbled.

  "Ignore them," Roku said quietly from the back, adjusting his wristband. "They're always like this with newcomers."

  A blond blur suddenly appeared in front of Taiki, making him jump. "I'm Takashi! The libero! The one who saves all their terrible receives!" He spun a volleyball on his finger. "Don't worry about being perfect right away. That's what I'm here for!"

  "He means he'll clean up your messes," Daichi smirked, cracking his knuckles. "And trust me, there will be many."

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence," Taiki deadpanned.

  "Oh, I like this one," Hiro laughed. "He's got sass."

  "Great," Daichi grinned, and somehow that was more terrifying than his serious face. "Sass won't save you from practice though. Ready to start?"

  Taiki glanced longingly at the exit, but Sato's hand on his shoulder might as well have been a steel trap. "Do I have a choice?"

  "Nope!" the team chorused.

  A few minutes later, Taiki lay spread-eagled on the gym floor, his chest heaving as he tried to remember how breathing worked. Just two laps. Two measly laps around the gym, and he was already questioning all his life choices.

  "Looking good, Tsumugi!" Maki's voice carried across the dividing net, dripping with gleeful sarcasm. "Really loving that 'dying fish' pose you've got going on!"

  He managed to lift one hand just enough to shoot her a weak middle finger.

  "Save that energy for setting!" Daichi called out, not even breaking a sweat as he jogged past. The rest of the team followed, looking annoyingly fresh and energetic.

  "I think..." Taiki wheezed, "I think I'm having a spiritual experience. I can see the light."

  "That's just the ceiling lamp," Takashi chirped, bouncing around him. "Come on, get up! We haven't even started the real warm-ups yet!"

  Taiki's head snapped up. "What do you mean 'real' warm-ups?"

  "Oh yeah," Hiro grinned, popping his gum. "This is just the pre-warm-up warm-up. You know, to get warmed up for warming up?"

  From across the gym, Maki's cackling reached new heights. She'd stopped pretending to practice basketball and was now just leaning against the dividing net, phone out, definitely recording his suffering.

  "I hate everything," Taiki groaned, letting his head thump back against the floor. "This is what death feels like. This is it. This is how I go."

  "Drama queen," Jin shouted, still running. "Up and at 'em, rookie! The floor's not gonna set any balls!"

  "The floor understands me," Taiki muttered. "The floor is my friend. The floor doesn't make me run laps."

  Sato appeared above him, grinning like a maniac. "Ready for jumping jacks?"

  Taiki's forehead connected with the cafeteria table with a dull thud. His muscles screamed in protest at even that small movement, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Death by face-planting seemed like a merciful end after the morning's torture session.

  Next to him, Maki sprawled across her side of the table like a deflated balloon. "I can't feel my legs," she whimpered. "Are they still there? Someone check if they're still there."

  "Drama queens, both of you," Shiori's voice cut through their misery as she slid into the seat across from them, looking fresh as a daisy. Sato dropped down beside her.

  "I hate you both so much right now," Taiki mumbled into the table. "How are you even human?"

  "Bold of you to assume they are," Maki groaned. "They're clearly aliens. Or robots. Or alien robots." She lifted her head slightly, only to let it flop back down. "This is revenge, isn't it? This is what I get for laughing at you earlier."

  "Karma's a beautiful thing," Taiki agreed without moving.

  "Come on, it wasn't that bad!" Sato chirped, earning twin groans of despair. "The warm-up was pretty light today!"

  Taiki finally peeled his face off the table just enough to glare at him. "Light? LIGHT? We did like fifty million jumping jacks!"

  "Twenty," Shiori corrected, unwrapping her bento. "You did twenty jumping jacks."

  "Felt like fifty million," Maki muttered. "I thought basketball was supposed to be about throwing balls in hoops, not... whatever that sadistic workout was."

  "You can't throw balls in hoops if you can't move," Shiori pointed out cheerfully. "Besides, you're the one who kept stopping to film Taiki's suffering instead of practicing."

  "Worth it," Maki said, finally sitting up with a wince. "I got some quality blackmail material."

  She only earned a punch in the shoulder from Taiki, which probably hurt him more than her given his current state of muscle failure.

  Maki rubbed her arm anyway, playing up the injury. "So, Sato... how'd our resident setter actually do? I mean, besides the part where he collapsed during stretches."

  Taiki's head snapped up, betrayal written across his face as he watched Sato struggle to find diplomatic phrasing.

  "Well..." Sato scratched the back of his neck, his eternal optimism wavering slightly. "He's got... potential? I mean, his sets went in actual volleyball-adjacent directions at least twice."

  "Twice?" Maki's eyes widened. "Out of how many attempts?"

  "I stopped counting after fifteen," Sato admitted. "But hey! That's already better than yesterday's backward set, right?"

  "Oh yeah?" Taiki lifted his head just enough to fix Maki with a vindictive stare. "Hey Shiori, how'd Miss Coordination over here do in basketball practice? You know, when she wasn't busy being my personal paparazzi?"

  Shiori's lips twitched. "Well, she did manage to dribble the ball once. Straight onto her own foot. Then it bounced into Coach's coffee."

  Maki's mouth opened and closed soundlessly, her face turning an impressive shade of red as Sato burst out laughing.

  "The coffee went everywhere," Shiori continued, clearly enjoying herself. "I think Coach's clipboard is permanently stained. Though I have to admit, I've never seen anyone turn a basic dribbling exercise into such an effective weapon before."

  Maki slumped down in her seat, suddenly very interested in her lunch. "Okay, fine. Point taken. No more making fun of Taiki's sets."

  Taiki dragged himself down the dorm hallway, using the wall as a crutch while Maki shuffled beside him like a zombie from a budget horror film. The setting sun through the windows felt like it was mocking their suffering.

  "I can't feel anything anymore," Maki whimpered, fumbling with her room key. "My arms are noodles. Actual noodles. Why did it have to be this year? Why couldn't they wait until after we graduated?"

  "Because the universe hates us specifically," Taiki muttered, slumping against his door. "Did you know we used to have four afternoon classes? Four. Now it's just three because they needed to jam in more 'physical enrichment time.'" He made air quotes with trembling fingers.

  "Physical torture time, you mean." Maki slid down her door until she was sitting on the floor. "I dropped my water bottle six times today. Six. My hands just... stopped working."

  "At least you can still grip things. I tried to write notes in Literature and my pencil flew across the room." Taiki joined her on the floor, their shared wall of misery. "Coach made me do extra setting practice after regular practice. I think my shoulders are actually trying to divorce my body."

  "We're going to die," Maki declared solemnly. "We won't even make it to winter break. They'll find our bodies in the gym, probably buried under a pile of volleyballs and basketball-related trauma."

  "Bold of you to assume there'll be enough left of us to find." Taiki let his head thunk back against the wall. "A month of this? We barely survived day one."

  "Maybe we could fake our own deaths?" Maki suggested hopefully. "Or start a protest? 'Students Against Mandatory Sports Torture' - SAMST. We could make badges."

  "Pretty sure we'd need working arms to hold protest signs," Taiki pointed out. "Which I definitely don't have anymore."

  They both let out long, defeated sighs that echoed in the empty hallway.

  Maki tilted her head, a puzzled expression crossing her tired face. "You know what's weird though? I kind of... feel good? Like, underneath all the pain and suffering and potential death by sports."

  Taiki turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow. "Did you hit your head during practice?"

  "No, seriously!" Maki waved her noodle arms for emphasis, nearly smacking herself in the face. "I mean, yeah, everything hurts and I'm pretty sure I've discovered muscles I didn't even know existed. But there's this weird buzz? Like my brain feels clearer or something." She laughed, running a hand through her messy ponytail. "Maybe all that running around actually helped with my stress about the literature test next week. Though I'm definitely gonna need like, three showers to feel human again."

  Taiki opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. Now that she mentioned it, there was something satisfying about the bone-deep exhaustion. Different from the mental drain of regular classes.

  "Huh," he said finally. "Maybe this is what people mean when they talk about sports being good for you? Not that I'm admitting anything," he added quickly.

  "Right?" Maki grinned. "Like, who knew actual exercise could do... exercise things? Though if you tell anyone I said that, I'll deny everything."

  Taiki's moment of almost-optimism evaporated as he remembered the absolute disaster that was morning practice. Two successful sets out of... he'd lost count after twenty. And those two had been pure luck, probably guided by whatever deity took pity on hopeless cases.

  "We're going to get kicked out," he groaned, letting his head fall into his hands. "There's no way they'll keep us around once they realize how bad we actually are. I mean, did you see Sato's face when I managed to set the ball into my own face?"

  Maki snorted. "At least you only hit yourself. I managed to bounce the basketball off three different people today. Three! Coach looked like she was having an aneurysm." She pulled her knees up to her chest. "And the worst part? Everyone else makes it look so easy! Like, how does Shiori just... float through the air like that? It's not natural."

  "Tell me about it. Jin was doing these perfect receives like he was born doing them. And he's not even libero ! And Roku's spikes actually go where he wants them to." Taiki ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up even more than usual. "Meanwhile, I'm over here trying not to trip over my own feet."

  Before Maki could respond, a familiar voice cut through their pity party. "Are you two planning to camp out here all night?"

  They looked up to find Shiori standing over them, basketball tucked under one arm and an amused expression on her face. Behind her, Sato was grinning like this was the most entertaining thing he'd seen all day.

  "Just discussing our inevitable doom," Taiki muttered.

  "And the formation of SAMST," Maki added helpfully.

  Shiori raised an eyebrow. "SAMST?"

  "Students Against Mandatory Sports Torture," they replied in unison.

  Taiki dragged himself into their shared apartment behind Shiori, his legs feeling like they'd been replaced with overcooked noodles. The couch called to him like a siren song, and he collapsed onto it face-first with a groan that sounded more like a dying whale than a human noise.

  "The shower isn't going to walk itself to you, you know," Shiori commented, setting her basketball down by the door. She wrinkled her nose slightly. "And speaking of showers, you really should get in there. You kind of stink."

  Taiki flinched, his face burning against the couch cushion. Right. He wasn't alone in his own space anymore, free to marinate in his post-practice misery. No, he was sharing an apartment with Shiori Fujisawa, basketball prodigy extraordinaire, who had just informed him that he smelled like a gym locker's worst nightmare.

  "I'll move when my muscles remember how to function," Taiki muttered into the cushion. "Which might be never. I think Sato broke me."

  "You can't sleep there," Shiori said, and he heard her moving around the kitchen. "The lactic acid build-up will make tomorrow even worse."

  Taiki lifted his head just enough to shoot her a betrayed look. "There's a tomorrow? I thought maybe the universe would be kind and just end right here."

  "You should at least stretch," she continued, ignoring his dramatics as she filled two glasses with water. She walked over and set one on the coffee table in front of him. "Hydrate too. It helps."

  The effort required to sit up seemed monumental, but the promise of water was enough to make Taiki attempt it.

  "I've never seen someone look so defeated after just warm-ups," Shiori observed, perching on the arm of the couch. Her eyes sparkled with what might have been amusement.

  The realization hit Taiki like a bucket of ice water. Here he was, sprawled on the couch and whining about basic warm-ups, while sitting next to someone who'd probably done more training before breakfast than he'd done in his entire life.

  He forced himself to sit up properly, suddenly hyper-aware of how pathetic he must look to someone like Shiori.

  "Sorry," he mumbled, reaching for the water glass. "You probably think this is ridiculous. Being this wiped out from just warm-ups, I mean."

  The glass felt too heavy in his shaking hands, and he had to concentrate not to spill it. Even this simple task seemed to mock his athletic inadequacy. He snuck a glance at Shiori, expecting to see judgment or pity in her expression, but her face remained neutral as she sipped her own water.

  "You must've been through way worse training," he continued, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "And here I am acting like a few stretches are the end of the world."

  Shiori's expression shifted, and she let out a small laugh that caught Taiki off guard. It wasn't mocking or condescending – if anything, it sounded nostalgic.

  "You should've seen me after my first real practice," she said, setting her glass down. "I threw up in a trash can and cried in the bathroom. Then I called my mom and begged her to let me quit."

  Taiki blinked, trying to reconcile this image with the composed athlete sitting next to him. "You? But you're... you know..." He gestured vaguely at all of her, unable to find the right words.

  "A 'basketball prodigy'?" She made air quotes with her fingers, rolling her eyes. "That came later. Way later. After I stopped throwing up in trash cans."

  The mental image of a younger Shiori hunched over a garbage bin was so absurd that Taiki couldn't help but snort. He immediately tried to cover it with a cough, but Shiori was already grinning.

  "The point is," she continued, "everyone starts somewhere. Usually face-down on a couch, apparently." She nudged his leg with her foot. "But seriously, go shower. You're going to regret it if you don't move soon."

  Taiki groaned but knew she was right. With herculean effort, he pushed himself to his feet, his muscles protesting every movement. "If I pass out in the shower and die, tell Maki she can have my manga collection. But not the limited editions – those go to my sister."

  "Such a drama queen," Shiori called after him as he shuffled toward the bathroom. "And drink more water!"