CHAPTER 36: AFTER THE GAME, THE HEART

Today was the day.

After fifteen years of life, two lives actually, Dirgantara Renji finally had something even scarier than a championship game.

A date.

With Ayaka Minazuki.

He didn’t sleep a wink last night. Not because of his sore foot, but because of everything that kept running through his head.

What would they talk about? What should he wear? What if she thought he was boring? What if—God forbid—he tripped with his crutches and smashed into a vending machine like some awkward sitcom character?

But even worse than the embarrassment was the moral crisis.

Wait... isn’t this illegal? I’m mentally thirty in the body of a teenager. She’s a teenager. But if I dated someone my mental age, I’d technically be a creep in a teenage body. Which one’s worse? Is this moral jail or real jail?!

"Arrghhh!" Dirga buried his head in his desk, letting out a groan.

"Dirga? Are you okay? Is your foot hurting again?" the teacher called from the front.

Dirga blinked. The class was staring. He had groaned out loud. In the middle of lecture.

"Uh... just a little flare-up, Sensei," he lied with a sheepish laugh.

He stared at the clock. The hands moved slower than a free throw routine.

Just survive until the bell. Then the real game begins.

RIIIIING!

As soon as the dismissal bell rang, Dirga sprang from his seat—well, as much as a guy on crutches could. He practically bolted from the classroom, ignoring Taiga’s distant voice yelling, "Hey! Where are you going?!"

He didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

This was more than a match. This was a date.

They had agreed to meet under the clock tower by the station, like something straight out of a shoujo manga. The sun painted the sky in golden hues, casting long shadows over the plaza.

And there she was.

Ayaka Minazuki.

No fancy outfit. Just her school uniform and a soft cream cardigan. No heavy makeup. Just a ribbon in her hair.

But to Dirga, she looked like a goddess dipped in sunlight.

"Hey," she said casually, waving one hand.

"H-Hello," Dirga replied, voice cracking like a teenage sitcom character.

He glanced at his crutches and grimaced. "Sorry about these. Not exactly date material..."

Ayaka smiled. "Battle scars. You earned them. Besides..." She leaned in slightly. "You still look kind of cool."

Dirga blushed so hard he thought steam would come out his ears.

"So, where are we going?" he asked, trying not to sound like a squeaky violin.

"You said you’d follow me, right? Well, let’s go." She turned and started walking. "There’s this café I’ve wanted to try for months, but I didn’t want to go alone."

The walk to the station was quiet. Mostly because Dirga was too nervous to speak. Every time her sleeve brushed his, he nearly lost his footing. He was lucky his crutches didn’t turn into stilts.

The train ride didn’t help either—packed close together, he could smell her perfume: soft lilac and cherry blossom. He tried to memorize it. It made his brain foggy in the best and worst way.

Focus, Dirga. This is not the time to die from heart palpitations.

The café they arrived at was adorable—twinkling lights strung above the door, ivy curling up the stone walls, warm golden interior lighting. Like a scene out of a romance movie.

It felt... intimate.

They sat down near the window, and the soft music in the background only made it more surreal. The table was small enough that their knees almost touched beneath it, and every time Dirga looked at her, she was already looking at him.

A waitress brought them water, menus, and a small bowl of sugar hearts. Ayaka picked one up and held it to the light.

"You’re weird," Ayaka said, staring directly at Dirga.

"W-What?" Dirga nearly choked on air.

"You play like a demon on the court—fire in your eyes, fearless, always charging in—and now look at you." She tilted her head. "You can’t even look me in the eye for more than two seconds."

Dirga scratched the back of his head. "I guess... I’m weak against things like this."

Ayaka leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. "You owe me a second date, okay?"

Dirga blinked, stunned.

"...Yeah. I do."

They ordered their drinks. Dirga went with black coffee.

Ayaka raised an eyebrow. "Black coffee? You really are an old man."

"I like it bitter," Dirga muttered defensively.

"Gross," she giggled.

They both laughed.

About his parents. About moving to Japan. About Takeshi-sensei. About how much basketball meant to him.

Ayaka opened up too—about her family, the pressure of being compared to her twin, and how sometimes she felt like she was just drifting without direction. She said it with a smile, but Dirga could see the shadow behind her words.

Two people sitting across from each other, both carrying invisible weight—and finding comfort in each other’s company.

This feels... natural.

Time passed quickly. Before they knew it, the sun dipped low.

"We should probably head back," Dirga said softly, reluctant to break the moment.

Ayaka pouted. "Already? You don’t like being with me?"

"No! I mean—yes! I mean—I like it. A lot. But, uh, it’s getting dark. And I still owe you that second date."

She sighed, but smiled. "Alright. You’re lucky you’re cute."

That seemed to win her over.

The walk back was easier. They talked about manga, music, favorite food. Somehow, the awkward tension had dissolved. It was just two teenagers having fun.

And when they finally arrived at her doorstep—

"Well... good night," Dirga said.

"Wait—here." She handed him a small folded note. "My house number. In case... you know. You want to talk."

Dirga accepted it like it was a sacred scroll. "I’ll call."

Their eyes lingered. The air between them felt heavy—but warm.

And just as they were about to part—

High above, hidden behind a curtain on the second floor...

Three pairs of eyes watched in silence.

Observing.

Waiting.

Plotting.