She looked up.
"Hey! Throw it back!"
A girl stood across the gym, waving. A few others lingered behind her, all from a higher grade.
Nau Rin picked up the ball and tossed it back without a word. She turned, ready to settle again—
—but something struck her head.
Hard.
The impact snapped her forward. Her hand flew up instinctively, pressing against the spot as her vision flickered for a second. When she turned, the volleyball lay beside her again.
Footsteps approached.
"Oh—sorry!" the same girl said, jogging over. "I didn't mean to hit you. Are you okay?"
Her voice sounded concerned.
Her expression didn't.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
Nau Rin didn't answer. She barely had time to.
The girl had already grabbed the ball, turning away, laughing as she ran back to her group.
For a second, Nau Rin stayed still, fingers still resting against her head. Then she lowered her hand and started to sit again—
Another hit, this time to her back.
Stronger.
The blow drove her forward. Her body tensed, a cold, distant gaze hardening in her eyes. Her brows drew tight, and as she turned, a sharp, piercing cry tore from her lips.
The gym shifted.
Noise faded. Conversations paused. Heads turned.
Across the court, the group of girls covered their mouths, laughter slipping through their fingers. But the moment they noticed the attention gathering, they straightened, their expressions smoothing out as if nothing had happened.
They turned to leave.
"Hey!" a voice called out from behind them—clear and firm.
As the girls turned back at her voice, something cut through the air—
A sharp, whistling sound.
A volleyball shot past, slicing forward with force before slamming hard into the floor right in front of them.
They flinched instantly, stumbling back, dropping to the ground in shock. Eyes wide, mouths slightly open, they looked up—
Nau Rin stood at a distance, unmoving.
Moments earlier, As they had begun to walk away, she had reached down, picked up the ball lying near her, and stepped forward. Calm. Measured. She moved toward the center of the court, each step steady.
Then she stopped.
She tossed the ball into the air.
In that split second, her body arched like a drawn bow—tight, precise. Her palm struck the ball with a sharp, cracking sound.
It tore through the air like an arrow.
And landed—right in front of them.
"Hey, you—" one of the girls started, but didn't get to finish.
Another ball was already in Nau Rin's hand.
She didn't hesitate.
This time, Nau Rin set the ball down and kicked it with a violent force. The ball whistled past, cutting right between their heads. The girls screamed, ducking down and shielding themselves in terror.
The entire gym just watched, caught between confusion and disbelief.
Nau Rin picked up a third ball.
—but suddenly, a hand grabbed her wrist.
Tight.
She frowned and looked up. A student stood in front of her, gaze firm, unyielding.
"Stop. That's enough," he said, low, almost like a whisper.
Nau Rin yanked her hand free, her eyes locking onto theirs.
Then the gym door opened. The teacher stepped inside, his gaze immediately shifting to the girls on the floor—shaken, pale, and struggling to catch their breath.
"What's going on?" the teacher asked, clearly startled. "What happened?"
Nau Rin exhaled slowly, steadying her breath. Then, in a calm, even voice—
"I hit them by accident."
The teacher frowned, clearly displeased.
"I told you to be careful when you play, didn't I?" he said sharply. "Alright, put the balls away and take a break."
The moment Nau Rin stepped into the changing room, she went straight to her locker and pulled it open. It was empty. Her uniform was gone.
She turned slowly, her gaze sweeping across the room.
"Where is my uniform?" she asked.
Her voice wasn't loud, but it shifted something in the air. Conversations faltered. A few girls exchanged glances.
Then one of them scoffed.
"How would we know? Don't go accusing people who are minding their own business."
Nau Rin said nothing.
She checked every corner—above, below, between lockers—every possible place.
Nothing.
For a moment, she stood there in the middle of the room, uncertain where to go next. Around her, the quiet murmur of voices resumed, mixed with the rustle of clothes. As if nothing had happened.
She walked out.
Methodically, she checked every restroom on each floor. Every trash bin. Even outside—water taps, corners of the yard, the school's back waste area. On her way back, something caught her eye—a neglected corner, slightly out of sight.
She stepped closer.
There it was. Her uniform lay crumpled on the ground, soaked and smeared with wet dirt.
Nau Rin bent down and picked it up slowly. The fabric sagged heavily in her hands, waterlogged. Gritty particles of cold mud pressed against her skin, rough and unpleasant against her palms.
She didn't react.
She carried it to the wash area and began cleaning it—slowly, thoroughly. Soap, rinse. She rubbed soap into the fabric until the stains faded and it looked almost like it had before.
By the time she finished, half the class period had already passed.
She stopped by a vending machine and bought a lemon soda, the cold can pressing lightly against her palm. Then she headed up to the rooftop.
The door opened, and sunlight poured over her.
After the dim hallway, it felt almost blinding. The sky stretched wide and clear, an open blue that seemed too vast all at once. A warm breeze swept past, lifting the hem of her shirt, brushing softly against her face.
There were a few old desks and chairs left abandoned in a corner, and she draped her damp uniform over one of the chairs to let it dry.
Then she walked to the edge.
Leaning against the metal railing, she looked out. A tall, gray wire fence stood in front of her, its narrow gaps framing the distance—stone walls in muted tones, glass buildings rising beyond them.
She lifted her gaze higher.
Clouds, soft and white, drifted lazily across the sky.
The can in her hand had begun to bead with moisture, droplets sliding down over her fingers. She twisted it open—
psst.
The quiet fizz broke the stillness. She raised it to her lips and drank deeply, the sharp, sparkling taste filling her mouth as she swallowed, one long breath at a time.