The locker room door shut with a dull, echoing thud.
The noise of the arena—thousands of voices, music, commentary—was cut off instantly, replaced by the low hum of fluorescent lights and the sound of heavy breathing.
Sweat dripped onto tile.
Shoes squeaked as players dropped onto benches.
No one spoke at first.
The scoreboard still burned in everyone's mind.
Not a blowout.
Not a collapse.
But not enough.
Shunjin stood.
He didn't sit.
Didn't lean.
He just stood there in the middle of the room, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white.
"…Tch."
Coach Takeda was the first to speak.
"Good work out there," he said calmly. "You stayed in the game. You didn't fold. That matters."
A few heads lifted.
Marcus exhaled, rolling his shoulders.
"Yeah," he said. "We're not getting embarrassed."
That was when Shunjin snapped.
"Not getting embarrassed?" he barked, spinning around. "Is that the standard now?"
The room froze.
Yuuto looked up slowly.
