The next morning after the entrance exams. The brick gate of Yoshido School.
Ming You, dressed in the school uniform, headed towards the school building. Other students were also passing through the gate: some in groups, some in pairs, and some entering alone.
After climbing the steps, Ming You opened the school door—he entered along with several other students. His empty, soulless gaze didn't stand out much among the sleep-deprived students.
Passing the security desk, he headed to his classroom, which was on the second floor. After going up the stairs and passing several classrooms and offices, he saw a door with a sign that read "Class 2-2".
Ming You entered the classroom. His classmates were sitting in groups. Some were taking out textbooks, some had their noses buried in them, some were sleeping, but one classmate, who was sitting at the back desk near the door, turned his head and looked at Ming You with a scrutinizing gaze:
"New kid?"
He ignored him and walked further into the classroom.
"And he's not much of a talker," said the desk neighbor of that classmate in a sleepy voice.
When Ming You had passed three rows, he looked at the second-to-last desk by the window. Behind the last desk, slightly further from the window, sat a girl with waist-length light hair. Ming You turned his empty gaze towards her and asked:
"Is this seat taken?"
"Y-yes, go ahead."
He sat down at the desk, took out his textbooks, and waited for the lesson.
The bell rang.
The homeroom teacher—a gray-haired man around thirty-five—stood by the board and made an announcement in a decisive tone:
"Before we start the lesson, I have a brief announcement—we have a new student. You might have already met him, but I'll ask you to introduce yourself anyway."
Ming You stood up from his seat and introduced himself emotionlessly:
"I'm Ming You. I don't see the point in introducing myself and dragging out the lesson, so thank you all for your attention."
The entire class:
"…"
"Alright, let's move on to the lesson then," the homeroom teacher sat down at his desk and picked up a textbook.
…
After the last lesson, Ming You headed to the school gym. He opened the door and saw a tall, sturdy guy with red hair; his height was approximately 6.3 feet. He was wearing a black basketball uniform with red lines; on the front of the jersey was a red-and-white inscription "Yoshido", and slightly below it was his number—4.
He was dribbling the ball on the parquet floor, then made a dash to the free-throw line and took a high-arcing shot.
The ball went through the net, bounced off the parquet, and rolled towards Ming You. He picked up the ball with one hand and raised his empty gaze:
"Not bad." He bounced the ball twice on the parquet and, with one hand, threw the ball over the backboard.
The ball flew in a high arc and dropped into the basket.
"Don't happen to need an extra player?" asked Ming You, feigning a smirk.
"Extra? On the contrary, we're short a player, especially one as accurate as you."
Ming You let out an affected chuckle in response:
"Heh heh, good to hear. So, shall we get to practice then?"
"And hardworking too, you're practically the perfect player. Practice starts in fifteen minutes, you can go change for now. Grab a uniform from the coach's office for now, maybe one of them will fit you; they'll have another one made for you later."
"Okay." Ming You started heading towards the coach's office, but the player stopped him with a counter-question:
"By the way, there's something I wanted to ask…"
"I'm listening."
"Ming You, right? At first glance, you seemed very unsociable, but it turns out you're into basketball, so why didn't you say so? I would've been the first to drag you into the team."
Ming You put on a look as if he was dissatisfied with something, then sighed:
"I don't like unnecessary attention."
"Got it, won't hold you up any longer."
Ming You entered the coach's office and looked into the container. Inside were black basketball uniforms with red lines. He picked out shorts and a jersey with the number "44" and headed to the locker room, which was located next to the coach's office door.
After changing quickly, he left the locker room.
"A bit too big, but it's fine, they'll make you another one."
Ming You ignored his remark and took a ball from the corner of the court.
"By the way, the rest of the team will be here soon, care to introduce yourself to us in a bit more detail?"
After his question, Ming You looked at the ball for a couple of seconds, then raised his head, answering him without any extra emotion:
"If it's that important, no problem."
"Oh, here they are," he said loudly, turning his gaze towards the team.
Three people in school uniforms came through the door. The first one, walking in front, was a short blond guy who was grinning widely.
"Dude, you're something else, making a shot with a paper ball from the back desk right into the trash can by the teacher's desk…"
The one walking second—taller, about 6 feet tall, had dyed gray hair, the hair on the top of his head was much darker. He smirked, giving the blond a flick on the forehead:
"Oh, Lu, you can only dream of that."
"Are you insane?!"
While they were exchanging flicks, the third guy with short black hair—a bit taller than Lu, but much shorter than the gray-haired one—was walking behind them, his gaze indifferent, but when he turned his head towards the red-haired player with the number four, he noticed Ming You standing next to him:
"Hey, we've got a new addition."
"Is that the quiet new kid?" Lu asked in surprise. The tall guy behind him rolled his eyes:
"What difference does it make, quiet or not, as long as he can play."
"Hi-hi," Ming You waved at them with a fake smile, causing even more surprise from Lu:
"And he's not talkative?"
As the two guys went into the locker room, Lu, after blinking a few times, closed the door behind him. Ming You, along with the red-haired player, continued dribbling balls on the parquet and shooting them into the basket.
Less than five minutes later, the rest of the team exited the locker room.
"Should we start with introductions or get straight to practice?" asked the red-haired guy, simultaneously throwing a ball into the basket. Lu, whose jersey was number 9, shrugged and was the first to answer:
"And how are we supposed to practice, in your opinion, if he doesn't even know our names?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm Ming You, nice to meet you," he said with feigned weariness.
"We already know that. My name is Lu Shen, and this tall, bleached-blond jerk-off who even has the number six stamped on his jersey is Haru Lin."
"Look who's talking! You even jerk off with your pinky!"
"Ah, screw you!" Lu Shen turned back towards Ming You. "Anyway, now you know the two of us, and this quiet one is named Hong Ren."
"Hey," he said with an indifferent face, giving a weak wave. His jersey was number 12.
"By the way, Jung Ho, did you even introduce yourself, huh?" asked Lu Shen, looking up at the red-haired guy.
"Right, I'm Jung Ho, the team captain."
"Nice to meet everyone. Can we maybe move on to practice now?" Ming You started spinning a ball on his pinky with an indifferent face, and Jung Ho gave a thumbs-up:
"I like your attitude. In that case—let's begin!"
The team took basketballs and started warming up. First, a simple jog, but even in this, there was intensity: the players ran around the gym, steadily tapping the balls against the shiny parquet floor. With each lap, the pace accelerated, the sounds of the dribbles merging into a rhythmic hum, echoing under the high arches.
Ming You ran at the back of the group, focused, without any extra emotion. His gaze was fixed on Hong Ren's back ahead of him.
"Hey, new kid, are you even breathing?" Lu Shen's voice suddenly rang out; he had slowed his pace and ended up next to him. He was squinting, his lips twisted into a smirk. "You have a face like you're not running with a ball, but just doing fuck-all!"
Haru Lin, running past, just shook his head.
"Lu, you're the one doing fuck-all."
"I'm just focused, that's all," Ming You finally managed to say, without taking his eyes off the parquet in front of him.
Jung Ho, who was running first in line, turned around without slowing down.
"Don't get distracted, guys, we still have dribbling drills ahead."
After the jog, the players moved on to dribbling practice. The balls were deftly moved between legs—from left to right, from right to left—the movements practiced but requiring constant control. The parquet hummed from the frequent impacts, and the players, concentrated, watched every bounce.
"Maybe we can move on to shooting already?" Lu Shen straightened up, catching the ball on his hip.
Hong Ren, without stopping his drill, just snorted.
"You can't even shoot properly…"
"…"
His face contorted into a grimace, but before he could retort, Jung Ho's voice rang out:
"He's right. Everyone, line up behind the three-point line."
The five players, still warm from the warm-up, moved leisurely to the line, preparing for a series of shots.
Lu Shen, despite his chattiness, turned out not to be the most accurate. His ball clanged off the rim, bounced away, and sometimes even missed the backboard entirely. He grimaced, scratched the back of his head, and glanced at Haru Lin as if seeking an excuse.
"Whatever, it's just a warm-up!" he snapped, noticing the gray-haired player's smirk.
Haru Lin, in turn, wasn't shining with accuracy either. His shots were sharp but careless—the ball either overshot the hoop or hit the back of the backboard.
"Damn it…" he muttered, clenching his fists.
Hong Ren demonstrated unstable, but still present, accuracy. Out of five shots, two were successful, the rest were close. He didn't comment on his misses, just frowned slightly and immediately prepared for the next shot.
Jung Ho and Ming You were the best. The team captain acted confidently—his ball described a smooth arc and most often swished through the net without touching the rim. Only occasionally did he make mistakes, but he corrected his technique immediately.
Ming You, despite his lack of emotion, shot with almost no misses. It seemed he wasn't even looking at the hoop—just raised the ball, made a short flick of his wrist, and the projectile flew right into the target.
"New kid, are you some kind of hidden sniper?" Lu Shen tilted his head, scrutinizing Ming You.
He just shrugged.
"Just threw it."
"Yeah, right, 'just threw it'," Haru grumbled with a crooked smirk, crossing his arms.
Jung Ho laughed.
"That's great! So we have another reliable option for attack. And now, time to wrap up practice."
"Do you decide when practice ends when your limbs go numb or what?" asked Haru Lin, scratching the back of his head. Jung Ho replied impassively:
"When further shots become sluggish due to fatigue."
"True enough, no use overexerting."
"But not in your case, Lu," Jung Ho added with a grin on his face.
"Heh heh heh."
"What the hell are you laughing at, Haru!?" Lu Shen jumped at him, waving his arms.