The school bell had just stopped ringing when Rai stepped into classroom 1-B. The floor was shiny and uneven, the sunlight reflecting from the windows creating bright lines that seemed to cut through the room. The desks were arranged in rows of four, and most of the students were already seated in their respective positions—some were intently reading books, some were busy gossiping, and of course, a few with their eyes closed pretending to sleep.
Rai stood in the doorway for a moment, letting the room watch him without saying a word. He was used to being the outsider. Always the "new kid" every few years because his life had moved around with his mother since his father disappeared from the sports and public world. But this time it felt different. There was something in the air of this school that was more... sticky. More still. Like something waiting to explode.
"Ah! You're the new student, huh? Raihan Aksara?" a young teacher, wearing a red cardigan and an overly friendly smile, approached him. "Please introduce yourself in front of the class, okay?"
Rai wanted to say "no need," but didn't want to cause drama. He stepped forward to the blackboard, staring at the class expressionlessly.
"My name is Raihan. Just call me Rai. Like black coffee, don't like chatting early in the morning. Enough."
Several students laughed softly. Some just stared at him curiously. A guy in the back corner, with half-blond hair that looked like it was the result of a failed bleaching, whistled softly and patted the empty seat next to him.
"Bro, just sit here. Near the window, lots of wind."
Rai nodded lightly and walked towards that spot. As he sat down, he stole a glance at the blackboard, seeing the writing of his teacher's name: Mrs. Yura – Bahasa Indonesia.
Class started as usual, but Rai's head wasn't fully there. He was still thinking about the smash earlier. Not because of the power of the hit, but because of the sensation that came with it. There was a kind of vibration—not physical, but a memory. The hit was like calling back something that had been buried deep.
A voice disturbed him from the right.
"Are you really the one who smashed in the hall?"
Rai turned his head. The guy with the failed bleached hair was looking at him eagerly.
"I'm Tama. Tama Fujiwara. A member of the badminton club. You're… cool. But you're also annoying."
Rai raised an eyebrow. "Is that a compliment or an insult?"
"A combination," Tama replied, grinning. "You hit the ball like a devil, then leave like an action movie. Crazy."
Rai sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I don't want to join a club. So don't start."
Tama didn't give up. "But Ayaka-san said you're the club's only hope. You know, right? That our club will be disbanded this semester because it lacks members."
Rai glanced out the window, his eyes blank but his brain full.
"You know who Ayaka is, right?" Tama asked quietly.
"The club manager," Rai answered quickly.
"More than that," Tama lowered his head, his voice dropping to a whisper. "She's a former junior national athlete. A genius. Until she got injured, then… ran away from the spotlight. Now she's just the manager of a small club like this."
Rai turned his head slowly. Now he was really listening.
"You know," Tama continued, "she was the one who first told us that the club was going to be disbanded. But she was also the one who said, 'If we can win one official match, the school won't close the club.' Crazy, huh?"
"Crazy," Rai repeated. But his mind was still on the word injury. On the word escape.
The bell rang like an alarm that woke all the students from a short dream. Rai packed his things slowly, but his movements stopped when he saw Ayaka standing at the classroom door, leaning casually with her hands in her pockets.
Several students glanced at them, then pretended not to be interested. Ayaka looked at Rai expressionlessly.
"Five minutes. In the back court," she said. "Bring a racket, if you can."
Without waiting for an answer, she left.
Tama patted Rai on the shoulder. "You're on my radar."
The back court of Karuna High School was not a place for competition. The grass was unkempt, the net was loose on one side, and the court lines were just faded paint. But when Rai arrived there, Ayaka was already standing in the middle, arms crossed, and two rackets hanging beside her bag.
Rai walked slowly to the middle of the court, observing the surroundings. The afternoon light made long shadows snake from Ayaka's feet toward the net, then bounced off the surface of the grass like silent whispers.
"Did you bring it?" Ayaka asked.
Rai raised the used racket he had borrowed from the warehouse. Ayaka smiled faintly.
"Let's have five rallies. No need to be serious. I want to see you play."
Rai sighed. "If i win?"
"You join the tournament. At least once."
"If i lose?"
Ayaka looked at him with a sharper gaze than before. "If you lose, you still join the tournament. But you practice every afternoon. With me."
Rai chuckled. "A very fair choice."
Ayaka spun her racket. "The only thing that's fair is this net. Same height, same length. It just depends on who can get the ball through."
They started. The first shot came slowly from Ayaka. Rai blocked it, then countered it. No one spoke as the ball crossed the net over and over again. The afternoon wind stirred their hair. Their shoes squeaked softly on the dry grass.
On the fourth shot, Rai added more power. The shuttlecock flew sharper. Ayaka could still hold it. But on the fifth shot—Rai jumped. His movements were not from practice, but from instinct. From something older than technique.
Smash.
The shuttlecock slid to the ground as if pulled by personal gravity.
Ayaka didn't move.
She just stared at the shuttlecock, now still, half-buried in the fragile ground of the court.
A long silence.
"I think I have to get serious about this club," she said quietly.
Rai lowered his racket, his breath coming out a little short.
"I don't promise to win."
Ayaka stared at him.
"If you promise to play," she said, "I promise to win you."