Today's timetable had one dreaded slot: P.E.
The sun was sharp and golden, the courtyard buzzing with the thump-thump of volleyballs and the shouts of kids playing shuttlecock in the corner. Our class stretched through a few warm-up moves, then was promptly "set free"—the teacher had business elsewhere and simply told the class monitor to keep order.
Hardly a minute passed before Vy bounded over, clutching An Phong's pale, skinny arm and shaking it like she had just seized a banner of victory.
— So? What now? Teacher's gone! Her eyes sparkled, as if fate itself had just handed her a golden chance.
— Um… maybe we could go check that lizard nest you found behind the yard? An Phong tilted his head, his voice soft, though his eyes already carried a flicker of resignation, as if he knew exactly where this was going.
— Yes! That's exactly what I was thinking. Come on, quick!
Before he could change his mind, Vy dragged him off with such determination that he could only give a helpless laugh, surrendering to her pull like a sheet caught in the wind.
But they had barely taken a few steps when a sudden ripple of noise drew their attention back to the court.
A group of boys was gathering around Uy Phong. While the midday sun beat down, he sat calmly in the shade, leaning against a tree trunk, tilting back a bottle of cold water. Against the clamor of the yard, his stillness was striking—like a "mysterious male lead" poster come to life.
The boys exchanged anxious glances, as if silently playing rock-paper-scissors to choose a spokesperson. At last one stepped forward, his throat dry, his face flushed as if about to confess a secret crush.
— Uh, Uy Phong… would you… like to play basketball with us? We, um, heard you're really good, so if you don't mind…
Before he could stumble through the rest, that low, steady voice cut in—short, effortless:
— Sure.
— W-what? That's it? Just like that?
Uy Phong tipped his bottle again, took a slow sip, then glanced sideways with unnerving calm.
— Yes. I want to play. Is that a problem?
For a moment, the boys froze, as if the crush of their dreams had just said "yes" with a single word. The air stilled—then burst open with cheers and laughter. Yet the unbothered tone left the poor spokesman rattled, unsure whether Uy Phong had truly agreed or just brushed it off.
— No, no problem… it's just… we thought… you're like a champion, so you wouldn't bother playing with us.
— I'm not a champion.
He rose, his tall frame towering a full head above the boy in front of him. Before anyone could blink, the basketball that boy had been holding was already gone.
— H-huh!?
The group whipped their heads around—there he was, already dribbling across the court. Thump, thump. Each step stronger, each bounce echoing louder. He moved so fast their jaws dropped, their minds racing: Lightning quick… he really is the real deal.
Snapping out of it, the boy shouted:
— Hey! Wait for me!
He scrambled after him, while the rest of the group erupted as though they'd just witnessed the highlight of their school lives.
From a distance, Vy had watched everything. She finally let go of An Phong's arm, crossed her own, and pursed her lips.
— Hmph, that guy's strange. Who'd have thought he'd actually play with those rookies?
An Phong nodded softly.
— Yeah… I was a little surprised too.
— See? He looks so cold, tall like a giant, with those "don't-mess-with-me" eyes… and yet he's more approachable than he seems. Since you sit next to him, has he ever talked to you?
An Phong thought for a moment before answering honestly.
— A bit… he asked me about homework. I answered.
Vy nearly toppled over.
— What!? That counts as conversation to you? Forget it, I'll make my own grand entrance with your desk mate someday. For now, come on, let's go check that lizard nest!
All An Phong could do was laugh quietly as Vy tugged him away once more.
Meanwhile, on the basketball court—
The ball pounded against the ground in a steady rhythm, echoing across the open space. Uy Phong moved with it—his strides strong, purposeful, as if he knew every tile beneath his feet. A sudden crossover, a defender lunged and missed. The ball remained in his hands, quick and elusive, flickering like it could vanish at any second.
Sunlight poured down, sweat tracing the sharp lines of his face, but he didn't flinch. One swift spin, a leap, and the ball arced through the air in a flawless curve—swish! The net quivered. Cheers erupted.
— Oh my god, that was beautiful!
— Like watching a real player in a real game!
The court came alive, every eye locked on him. Each dribble, each shot, pulled them in deeper. And his quiet, composed presence made him shine all the more—like he was born to belong to this court.