Source
https://kakuyomu.jp/works/16818622176550308690/episodes/16818792435363238150
Another week passed.
Tomorrow was finally the day of the sports festival.
I was practicing on my own at the basketball court in the neighborhood park as usual, but…
“…Huh. Why am I doing this?”
Suddenly, I remembered a conversation I had with Nakajima kun.
He said that it seems that Class A has all the regular and reserve players from the first team of the basketball club.
On the other hand, Nakajima kun and his team are the second-string reserves.
The difference in ability is clear. So there’s almost a 100% chance we won’t win.
[So Ayata, you don’t have to try so hard. …I’m really sorry.]
Nakajima kun’s self-deprecating smile still lingered in my mind.
At that moment, I thought, “They’re such kind people.”
With our current abilities, we could never win. It must have taken a lot of courage for them to tell me that.
Shame, pride… They had to let go of those things to tell me the truth.
So that I wouldn’t waste any more effort.
“I should have known that…”
Yet…even after that, I continued to practice alone at the basketball court in the neighborhood park every day.
It was already past 8 PM. Relying only on the park’s streetlights, I kept shooting toward the goal.
The shot I just took…spun around the rim and missed easily.
“…Haa. What the hell am I doing?”
As I went to pick up the ball, I suddenly thought.
Nakajima kun and the others were probably right. There was really no chance of winning.
And of course, I’m not the kind of passionate character who wouldn’t give up even in such a situation. The usual me would be thinking about how to escape Sen’s lecture right now. Or maybe I’d even give up on that and just lie around in my room playing Enfil.
But…I just can’t shake this feeling.
For the next week, I continued practicing on my own after school like this.
“What the hell is wrong with me?”
Lately, I sometimes lose sight of who I am.
I started studying hard to become independent from Fujisaki. My goal was to show that I could manage on my own without causing him any trouble.
But what about now?
Why am I trying so hard, even though it’s not like me?
Is it for Sena’s sake? …Maybe. Maybe I want him to be happy, or maybe I don’t want him to get angry. Is that why I’m still continuing with my after-school practice?
But no matter how hard I try, I don’t think I can beat the elite A-class.
Or have I, without realizing it, become that kind of passionate character?
Deep down, have I not given up on winning?
(…No, that doesn’t feel right. Of course, it’s partly for Sena’s sake—)
Then, is it to avoid embarrassment?
Losing by a wide margin is already almost certain. And since my classmates will see it, it’ll be a miserable day.
Even so, if I can make even a slightly better move, it might lessen the embarrassment a little.
Is that why I’m trying so hard right now?
(…Yeah, that’s it. That’s the only reason I can think of.)
I position the ball, jump slightly, and shoot.
Clang. It hits the rim and bounces back with a thud.
…I’m hopeless. The more I think about it, the less I understand myself. And every time I do, the face of a certain girl flashes through my mind.
The face of my childhood friend with flaxen hair, whose bright smile suits her better than anyone else’s.
“…I guess I’m still hung up on it.”
I chase after the ball as it rolls away and gently pick it up.
Then I assume the shooting stance again,
“Enough of this. Forget it. It’s all over now.”
The ball released from my hand doesn’t even hit the rim.
It just falls aimlessly, grazing the net below.
…Why is that?
The sound of the ball rolling away somehow sounds lonely.
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