As expected, I was made a starter on the team the same day I tried out. From that day on, I trained with the main squad.
Coach Izanagi's sharp voice cut through the afternoon air.
"Basara, Daichi, Hidesuke, start playing a 3-2 defense formation."
The sound of sneakers sliding against the court rang out as the three players responded without hesitation.
"Right, coach!" they shouted in unison, their bodies tightening into defensive stances. The slap of palms against hardwood echoed as they clapped into position, eyes narrowing, arms spread wide to deny space.
Makoto brought the ball up the court. His breathing was even, and his gaze scanned the floor with practiced calm. The polished ball thudded rhythmically against the court as it bounced in his hand.
As he crossed half-court, both Basara and Daichi stepped up with quick lateral shuffles, closing the gap around him.
Makoto planted his foot and shifted his weight, crossing the ball between his legs in a smooth, steady motion. The rubber scraped lightly against the sweat-slicked floor, a short squeak echoing as he pivoted and burst to the right.
Basara and Daichi moved in at once, arms lifted, their shoes sliding in quick shuffles across the court. The space around him narrowed. Heat rose between their bodies, and he caught the rough sound of their breathing as they pressed closer, steering him toward the sideline.
Without a pause, Makoto sent the ball behind his back. It skimmed the floor and slipped cleanly between Basara's legs before rolling into Takumi's hands.
Takumi caught it on the move, his steps sharp and controlled. His shoulder dipped, and he drove straight toward the rim.
Hidesuke turned fast, the soles of his shoes dragging against the court as he backpedaled. The sound was rough and sharp in the still air.
Takumi pushed off with both feet and rose, arms firm as he guided the ball against the glass. It struck once and dropped through the net.
Coach Izanagi folded his arms, his gaze following the players as they moved back into position. The corners of his eyes tightened, a faint line forming across his brow.
So my trap doesn't work on this one after all.
His focus lingered on Makoto's steady movements. That level of control… he passes through gaps no one else would even see. A small exhale slipped through his nose, more acknowledgment than frustration.
"Makoto, nice pass." Takumi's tone was firm but carried a hint of approval. He lifted a hand, thumb raised toward him with a quick nod.
Makoto gave a short nod, a thin layer of sweat catching the light along his brow. His breathing stayed even, quiet between each exhale. The faint scent of varnish and worn rubber hung over the court, and the air carried the weight of bodies that had been moving nonstop.
Unfortunately, it didn't go so well for Shino.
Shino stood at the edge of the court, shoulders low and movements uncertain. His arms hung loosely by his sides, and his eyes drifted away from anyone who glanced in his direction.
A faint gust slipped through the small window, the sound of it sharp against the quiet—he twitched at once, as if startled by it.
For a moment he looked ready to fold under the still air of the gym, but then his gaze dropped to the ball in his hands. A small, quiet smile appeared on his face as he looked at it.
Makoto turned his head just as Daichi's voice carried across the gym.
"Katsuragi," he called, his tone light, almost friendly at first. The corners of his mouth lifted, but his eyes didn't match the smile. "Come over here for a moment."
Shino looked up through his bangs, his body tensing. His feet shifted slightly, as if weighing whether to move or stay still.
"Oi, you heard your senior, didn't you? Get over here, shrimp."
Basara's voice cut across the court, his tone sharp and demanding. His chin lifted slightly, eyes fixed on Shino as if waiting for him to move.
Shino flinched and began to move, his shoulders drawn in. The soles of his shoes scraped faintly against the floor with each step.
His pace stayed slow, hesitant, the air around him heavy with unease. By the time he reached them, his body had started to tremble. Fear tightened his breath, and he stopped just short of their shadows.
"Do me a favor, yeah? Go buy us some drinks. We've been working hard and getting thirsty here."
Daichi stretched his arms out, the joints in his neck cracking softly as he tilted his head from side to side. His tone stayed light, almost lazy, but there was a quiet expectation behind it that made it hard to refuse.
"And hurry it up. Practice starts again soon. If you're late, that's five laps around the soccer field."
Basara spoke without even glancing at him, eyes still on the court as he adjusted the tape around his fingers.
Shino's fingers twisted together anxiously, his gaze fixed on the floor.
"I–I mean… I don't mind going to get it for you guys, b-but… you, um… you didn't give me any money…"
His voice wavered near the end, almost fading completely, like he regretted saying anything at all.
Daichi leaned in close, his shadow falling over Shino. The friendly mask he wore moments ago slipped just enough to reveal something colder underneath.
"Don't be stupid." His voice dropped, low and sharp. He forced a small, polite smile.
"You'll pay for everything, understood?" His shoulders straightened; his eyes stayed cold.
Shino's mouth quivered. "B-but… if I buy that much, I can't afford to go home."
His voice came out small and shaky; his fingers twisted the edge of his shorts.
Hidesuke stepped forward, chin down and eyes hard. His voice came out low and rough.
"You answering your senior? Don't start anything. Go buy us those drinks, you pathetic little bean sprout."
He leaned in, the soles of his shoes skidding slightly on the floor as he stared down at Shino.
Shino flinched again. "Right." His eyes stayed on the floor as he turned and started to walk away.
Hidesuke didn't bother to look back. His voice came low and rough.
"Makoto, go with him. Make sure he buys those drinks. If he fails, he won't be allowed to train with us anymore."
His jaw tightened; the edges of his tone offered no room for argument.
Makoto narrowed his eyes and let out a slow breath, his fingers brushing back the sweat from his hair.
Who does this guy think he is, ordering me around like that?
"That kid's really dumb." Daichi's voice carried a lazy amusement as he chuckled under his breath. "He actually thinks doing whatever we tell him will get him a spot in a game."
"Yeah, I almost feel sorry for him." Basara's laugh slipped out, light and careless. "Still, it's kind of nice when they're that desperate to please."
"What about you, Takumi? You've been quiet this whole time. Don't you think it's hilarious?"
Hidesuke nudged him with his elbow, eyes narrowing with a grin.
Takumi's gaze stayed on the court. "I don't care." His tone came out flat, his body already turning away.
Hidesuke clicked his tongue, the sound sharp with irritation.
Makoto stepped off the court, the sound of his shoes brushing against the floor following him toward the exit.
Not that it really matters to me… but those guys are pretty heartless, taking advantage of someone like him.
If it were me, I'd have quit right away.
He let out a quiet breath and picked up his pace, his footsteps closing the distance between him and Shino's slow, uncertain steps ahead.
Shino's back faced him, his shoulders shaking in small, uneven motions.
As Makoto came closer, he caught the faint sound of a breath breaking and saw Shino's hand move quickly across his face, his bangs hiding his eyes.
What… is he crying?
Makoto's eyes widened a little, his steps slowing as the air between them grew still.
Shino noticed him and turned his face aside, wiping at his cheeks with the sleeve of his jersey. His breathing came out uneven through his nose, each inhale tight and shaky.
Makoto let out a quiet sigh and slipped a hand into his pocket.
"Here."
Shino blinked, his red-rimmed eyes unfocused for a moment. He looked down and saw the faint glint of three 100-yen coins resting in Makoto's open hand.
"I'm not sure if it'll be enough for your way home… but this is all I have right now."
Makoto rubbed at his cheek, his eyes shifting away for a moment.
Shino hesitated before reaching out. His fingers trembled as they brushed against the coins.
"Th-thank you… really, thank you. It means a lot."
His voice wavered, and new tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Hey… why are you crying again?" Makoto exhaled softly, his shoulders sinking a little.
Makoto reached over and took a few bottles from Shino's hands, the chill of the condensation cooling his palms.
"T-thank you… that's… really kind of you." Shino's voice came out small and unsure, a faint color rising across his cheeks.
"L-let's, um… head back now."
He glanced up briefly, then lowered his gaze again as they turned around together.