The school was changing. Not in any big way—not yet—but enough that Kotarō noticed.
Banners had started going up in the hallways. Posters for food booths, music performances, and the upcoming school festival now lined the bulletin boards like eager salesmen. Some glittered. Some had QR codes. Some were just marker on paper, slapped up with masking tape.
And then there was the English Debate Exhibition flyer.
It was printed on plain white paper.
Font: Times New Roman. Size 11. Just a block of text.
It was pinned in the lower corner of a corkboard beneath a Kendo poster. The heading read:
Come experience the spirit of academic challenge through constructive English dialogue!
"Sounds more like an AI-generated slogan for a company retreat."
Kotarō stared at it longer than he meant to. The word "constructive" bothered him. It wasn't wrong. Just... exhausted.
He stepped aside as students bustled by, arms full of decorations and props.
Haruka appeared next to him, checking her phone.
"Found our flyer? Impressive you even saw it. It's like a hidden quest marker."
Kotarō didn't reply. He just gave a slight shrug.
Watanabe passed by, munching on a cream bread and waving lazily.
"You guys keep doing the serious stuff," he said. "I'll be there to bring the charm."
"Right. The mascot. A presence without pressure. The type who makes class presentations worse just by existing."
Haruka didn't even flinch. She just waved at him.
"Library again after school?" she asked Kotarō.
He nodded. His neck had grown quite good at scheduling things without his permission.
The practice room wasn't anything special. Just an unused classroom tucked behind the art wing, with the desks pulled into rows and a whiteboard no one had erased in two months.
Haruka had printed sample motions. She shuffled them like playing cards, then flipped one over.
"This House would ban anonymity on social media."
"You're second speaker. Rebuttal. Just try. Doesn't need to be polished. Just speak."
He stood. Cleared his throat. Looked at the clock.
His mouth opened. A sound might have started. Then nothing.
Ten seconds.
Fifteen.
He sat down.
Haruka didn't say anything right away. She quietly set the motion card down and clicked her pen closed.
"We can reset," she said. "You'll get it."
"I could deconstruct that motion in an email. In a Discord call. In a margin note. But here, now? Nothing. Not even a noun."
Watanabe arrived fifteen minutes late with a soda in hand and no notebook.
"Sorry, had errands. Which team are we debating again?"
"The team of Focus and Effort. We're losing."
He slumped into a chair and offered a two-finger salute like he was already bored of existing.
Haruka didn't press. She reset the room for another round.
That night, Kotarō opened a new Google Doc.
Title: Haruka's Speech Flow (Initial Observations)
He stared at the blinking cursor for a moment, then started typing:
Opens with confident pause before first line.
Uses three-part phrasing often: claim → evidence → tie-back.
Breaks eye contact just before last sentence.
Varies tone on transitions. "However" is usually sharp.
"I can't speak like her. But maybe I can map it. Maybe if I name the pieces, I can build something similar."
He rewatched a clip she'd shown him in the library: Singapore vs Japan, high school nationals. The second speaker stumbled.
Paused.
Took a breath. Recovered.
Finished strong.
"Even mistakes have form. Even failure can move forward."
He kept typing.
The next day, they met again.
Haruka brought her phone and a second pair of earbuds.
"Watch this. No subtitles, just flow. Feel the structure."
They sat in silence for several minutes, eyes fixed on the tiny screen.
At the halfway mark, Kotarō tilted his head.
"Her rhythm's different. Affirmative second speaker. She leads with the clash point instead of the evidence."
Haruka nodded, impressed.
"You catch patterns faster than most people who speak daily."
"Too bad none of that matters once I open my mouth."
When the video ended, she unplugged the jack and stretched.
"People think debate is about winning," she said. "It's not. It's about not disappearing when it gets hard."
Kotarō stared at her.
He didn't say anything.
Not at first.
He just watched her quietly, like she'd said something from another dimension.
"Not disappearing, huh? Easy for her to say. She could speak into a vacuum and it would still sound like conviction. But maybe... Maybe it means more coming from someone like her."
They packed up their things. The usual clatter of zippers and notebooks.
Just before Haruka reached the door, Kotarō spoke. Quiet. Almost too late.
"Why do you even do this? Debate, I mean. You're already in the club. Isn't this just… a school tournament?"
She paused, one hand still resting on the doorframe.
She didn't answer.
She just smiled—calm, small, unreadable.
"That's a story," she said. "Maybe I'll tell you next time."
The door clicked softly behind her.
"Just a school tournament." That's what he told himself too. But somehow, he was still thinking about her answer. The one she didn't give.