The late morning sun filtered lazily through the white canvas of a beach umbrella, casting dappled patches of light across Joji's tanned arms. The salty breeze tugged gently at his tank top, and the crash of the waves provided a constant rhythm to the soft chatter around him.
He sat in silence, fingers sticky from watermelon juice, when a familiar voice on the court caught his attention.
Thump. The volleyball bounced off someone's forearm.
Joji squinted, heart catching in his chest.
"Mina!" he called out, his voice slicing through the noise of the beach.
One of the girls on the court stopped mid-play. The ball dropped from her hands as she turned sharply. Her gaze scanned the crowd until it landed on him—eyes widening in disbelief.
She jogged over, brushing sand off her hands. "Joji? You're here? I thought you were buried in training."
Joji gave a sheepish shrug. "I am. Technically. Coach dragged me out here. Said something about not 'burning out before the first bell.'"
Mina laughed, a genuine, surprised sound. "Typical Coach."
She plopped down beside him under the umbrella, her hair clinging to her neck from sweat. Joji silently handed her the last slice of watermelon.
"So, why are you here also?" Joji asked passing the slice of watermelon
She took it gratefully. "My teammates planned this," she said between bites. "Said we needed a break before school swallows us again. Didn't expect to see you here."
The two sat for a while, shoulders nearly touching, watching the volleyball bounce back and forth in the sand.
Then Mina nudged him. "Hey. Want to be our referee?"
Joji raised an eyebrow. "Sure you want me keeping score?"
"It's not the Olympics," she said, smirking. "Come on. It'll be fun."
Joji sighed and stood. "Alright."
At first, he stood awkwardly at the edge of the makeshift court, arms crossed, unsure what to do. But as the game picked up speed, so did he—calling out points, clapping at clean spikes, teasing players over bad serves.
"Ball in! That's one for blue!"
Mina's team groaned as the ball hit the sand on their side again.
Joji couldn't help smiling as he watched her dive, slide, and laugh—her hair a messy halo of sunshine and salt. The way she moved, how easily she fit into the energy of the game, made something in his chest loosen.
Here, away from the noise of expectations and routines, he felt… light.
Normal.
So much so that he forgot to write the score at one point.
"11–16?" he said, confused, glancing at the scoreboard.
"Yeah," Mina said, wiping her forehead. "We're getting wrecked."
He blinked, then corrected himself. "Wait, no—it's 11–17. Sorry."
Mina sighed dramatically. "Yep. We're doomed."
Her team lost, 17–25. But the girls laughed and collapsed in the sand like victorious losers.
Joji stretched his arms to the sky, feeling the ache in his back from standing.
"Wanna hit the water?" Mina called, already jogging toward the waves. "Come on, slowpoke!"
She kicked water at him as he hesitated.
Grinning, Joji took off, his bare feet kicking up sand as he ran after her.
The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sea in streaks of orange, pink, and deep violet. The water was warm on their skin as they splashed and shrieked like kids on a playground. Mina shrieked with laughter when Joji dunked her under, retaliating with a face full of sea foam.
Soon, they were joined by Imaizumi and Alisa, who threw themselves into the chaos with matching energy. The splashes turned into full-blown battles, laughter echoing over the calm waves.
And for the first time in a long while, Joji didn't feel like the quiet one on the outside looking in.
He felt present.
Later that night, the group retreated to their cottages. Joji, Imaizumi, and Coach Haruto shared a small but clean room filled with the scent of sand and sunblock. The girls bunked across the narrow hallway.
The only sound in the room was the thunderous snore coming from Coach Haruto's bed—an unholy rumble that shook the mosquito netting.
Joji sat up, blinking into the darkness. "How does someone do that in their sleep?"
He quietly slipped outside, barefoot and restless.
The beach had transformed. The heat of the day had faded, replaced by a soft, salty breeze. The moon hung above like a pale lantern, lighting the sand in silver hues. Waves rolled in quietly, almost reverently.
A lone figure sat hunched by the shore, hoodie pulled over her head.
Joji approached slowly. "Hey. Everything okay?"
Mina turned slightly but didn't meet his eyes. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"
He dropped down beside her. "Coach snores like a dying lawnmower. Figured the ocean would be quieter."
She chuckled, hugging her knees. "Yeah. I get that. I'm not good with unfamiliar places. Can't sleep."
There was a pause.
"I've also been… thinking."
Joji glanced at her. "About what?"
She hesitated. "Someone."
Her eyes met his for a moment—just long enough to make the air shift between them.
Joji's voice was soft. "Whoever it is, they must be a lucky person. But if it feel too heavy, remember… someone will listen."
Mina looked at him for a long second. "So… what do you think of me?"
Joji blinked. "What?"
She smiled faintly. "Just curious."
"Well," he said slowly, "you're loud."
She smacked his arm.
"And kinda annoying," he added with a grin. "But in a way that makes things feel alive. You keep things from being too quiet. It's… comforting."
Mina blushed and stood abruptly, brushing sand from her shorts. "My teammates might look for me…"
But Joji wasn't done. "You've got this warmth. Even when you yell or take control, it doesn't push people away. It pulls them in. That's… like the opposite of me."
Mina turned, just enough for the moonlight to catch her expression. A soft smile tugged at her lips.
"…Thanks," she whispered, before walking back toward the cottages.
The next morning, Joji emerged last from the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes and toweling his damp hair. The others were already halfway through breakfast—plates full of dried fish, rice, eggs, and fresh fruit.
He ate in silence, then stepped outside with a cold coconut in hand. The volleyball game was already underway.
"We're leaving before sunset," he muttered, watching Mina laugh as she spiked the ball.
He settled into the hammock beneath a swaying palm, booted up a rhythm game on his phone, and zoned out.
Until a shadow blocked the sun.
It was Alisa.
"Can you ref us?" she asked, bouncing a ball in her palm. "I joined the girls playing volleyball."
Joji sighed. "Yeah yeah, let me just finish this one level."
This match had energy.
Mina and Alisa were on opposite sides—and it was obvious Mina made it that way. Joji noticed. Everyone did.
Spikes were sharper. Dives deeper. Taunts louder.
Even Joji got caught up, shouting out plays and laughing at their dramatic reactions.
"24–25! Game point!" he called.
The ball sailed, was passed, then Mina leapt—powerful and clean—sending the ball just over Alisa's block.
Point.
Game over.
Mina's team exploded in cheers. Alisa, though sweaty and flushed, simply smiled and walked off the court.
"Alright!" Coach Haruto's voice boomed. "Pack up! Time to head home!"
They took all of their luggage and each one of them went inside the van
In the van, Joji found himself sitting beside Alisa, still flushed from the match.
"Hey, earlier… how'd you play so well against Mina?" he asked, still surprised. "Her team's like, regional-level."
Alisa looked out the window. "Used to be in a club," she said flatly. "Quit. I got tired of carrying teammates who didn't take the game seriously."
Joji nodded. "Makes sense. You're really good."
Alisa didn't reply, but her lips curved ever so slightly.
At home, Joji changed into a fresh tank top and joggers, then dropped into his usual evening routine—push-ups, planks, resistance bands. He didn't need to train. But he had to reset.
He then dominated match after match in his favorite fighting game, hands moving with practiced precision.
Eventually, he shut it off, stretched, and slipped under his blanket.
Sleep came quickly.
But peace didn't stay.
Joji found himself in a hallway cloaked in shadows. Ahead, a tall figure walked away—his father. Joji called out, voice breaking, legs pumping. But no matter how hard he ran, the distance never closed.
His father never turned around.
His throat burned. His body felt heavy, like he was underwater.
He woke with a gasp, drenched in sweat.
"…Still can't forget it," he whispered, eyes fixed on the dark ceiling.
The room was still now. No snoring. No noise.
But inside Joji's chest, the echoes remained. Memories and Trauma
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End of Chapter 10