TLPSO 02

Chapter 2:

 The Gap on the Court

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Ever since I found that shocking photo, my mind has been completely occupied with thoughts of Rei Kirishima.
(Was that photo really of him…?)

I wanted to find out the truth—but how?
Carrying that unanswered question in my heart, I headed to the gym after school with the perfect excuse: “an interview with the basketball club.”

The moment I opened the gym doors, I was swallowed by the sharp squeak of sneakers on the floor and the wave of heat that filled the air.
Inside the court, Rei moved like a fish in water—alive, fluid, unstoppable.
He cut past defenders with graceful dribbles, leapt high, and released a shot that drew a beautiful arc before slipping cleanly through the hoop.

“Kyah! Rei-kun!”
“Nice shot!”

On the second-floor gallery, a group of girls had gathered just to see him, filling the gym with high-pitched cheers.
But Rei didn’t seem to hear them at all. His face was as cool and expressionless as ice, focused only on practice.

The perfect ace. The flawless prince of the court.
(No matter how I look at him, I just can’t connect this image to that photo…)

Just as that thought crossed my mind, a practice match began.
Rei got the ball and drove toward the basket—an ideal scoring opportunity.
The girls’ voices echoed louder than ever through the gym.

“Rei-kun! Go for it!”

In that instant, I noticed it—his movement froze, just for a fraction of a second.
And then his layup hit the rim and bounced away, missing the basket.
It was a simple mistake—uncharacteristic of him.

“Ah, so close!” “Don’t mind!”
The girls groaned in disappointment, but I saw something else.
Right after the miss, Rei clicked his tongue softly, and for a brief moment, he looked down, as if trying to escape the weight of everyone’s eyes on him.

(Could it be…)
A hypothesis began forming in my mind.
(He’s… bad at being the center of attention?)

An unexpected weakness, hidden beneath his perfect image.
If that was true, then maybe his cold, composed attitude wasn’t confidence—it was armor, desperately hiding his nervousness and shyness.

When practice ended, the players started cleaning up, and the girls left the gym, satisfied.
I stayed behind, watching quietly from the shadows as Rei stood alone in the corner of the court, wiping sweat from his face with a towel.

When his teammates were gone and he thought no one was watching,
he let out a long, deep sigh—from the bottom of his heart.
In that moment, the mask of the ace and the armor of the icy prince fell away.

What remained was just a sixteen-year-old boy—tired, relieved, vulnerable, achingly human.

My heart gave a small, sharp squeeze.
The photo from the album. The uncharacteristic mistake on the court. And now, this unguarded side of him before my eyes.
The dots began to connect.

(I want to know more.)

Not out of cheap curiosity or a desire for a scoop.
But because I wanted to understand the boy named Rei Kirishima—the one who hid so many secrets and awkward emotions behind that perfect mask.

I wanted to know him—more and more.

And so, with that quiet sigh of relief, the very first true page of my “Observation Diary” began to turn.