The gym was a storm of sound. Sneakers squeaked, balls bounced in rapid succession, and the shrill whistles of referees cut through the chaos like sharp knives. The scoreboard flickered under the bright lights, reflecting the numbers that seemed impossibly close yet infinitely distant.
Yuuto's chest heaved, sweat trickling down his temple. His eyes flicked across the court, scanning, calculating. Every muscle in his legs remembered the rhythm of the game: the push of the floor, the pivot, the split-second decision to pass or drive.
Seiryō had clawed back a little since Yuuto had stepped onto the court as point guard. Marcus had shifted to shooting guard, adjusting his long strides to the tighter spaces near the perimeter, and Shunjin James, wiry and fast, darted around the paint like a needle threading through the fabric of the opposing defense.
