The rehab gym was almost empty by late afternoon. The fluorescent lights hummed faintly overhead, bouncing off the polished wooden floor with a muted gleam. Outside, the summer sun pressed against the glass windows, hazy and relentless, but inside, the air-conditioning kept the air crisp and sterile almost unnaturally cold for someone drenched in sweat and nerves.
Yuuto sat on the edge of a padded chair near the wall, basketball cradled in his hands. He stared at the lowered hoop on the far side of the room. It wasn't regulation height. It wasn't meant for competitive athletes. It was a practice tool, designed for patients relearning basic balance, coordination, and movement.
Yet to him, it might as well have been the rim at Madison Square Garden. Every memory of past games, every swish and squeak of sneakers, felt like it had led him to this single moment.
[System Notification]
Daily Quest (Optional Advanced): "Take the First Shot"
Attempt a basket while standing without crutches Success Count: 1 Bonus Reward for Make: +2 Shooting | +1 Confidence
The words glowed faintly in his vision, insistent and tantalizing, like a whisper only he could hear.
Yuuto gripped the ball tighter, feeling the leather creak against his sweaty palms.
"Standing… without crutches…" he muttered.
It was reckless. Foolish. Every doctor, every therapist had warned him not to rush, not to push beyond his limits. One wrong twist, one slip, and all the progress he'd fought for could vanish in a single instant.
Yet, there it was the system dangling a reward shimmering just out of reach. Numbers meant little; proof meant everything. +2 Shooting. +1 Confidence. More than stats, it was a challenge, a test of his will, a beacon calling him back to the court.
He licked his lips, his heartbeat thundering in his chest.
"Just one shot. One. Then I'll stop."
He pushed himself to his feet. The world tilted slightly as he straightened, legs quivering beneath the weight of his own body. The familiar ache in his right knee flared immediately, a dull fire spreading from thigh to calf.
He shifted his weight carefully, pressing down with his right foot and letting his left brace him without collapsing. Each movement was deliberate, cautious but necessary.
The ball rested in his palms. His fingers flexed, tracing the familiar grooves, summoning memories of countless hours after school, sweat dripping down his back as he fired shot after shot under a blazing sun.
Before the injury. Before the hospital. Before everything fell apart.
"Just like old times," he whispered, voice low and unsteady.
He bent his knees slightly, wincing as a sharp pulse of pain raced up his leg. His form was stiff, mechanical jerky compared to the fluid motion he remembered. Still, he lifted the ball, elbow tucked, wrist ready to snap.
"Release at the peak…" he muttered to himself.
The ball left his hands. For a heartbeat, time seemed to stretch.
Then thump.
It hit the front rim, bouncing awkwardly before rolling away.
Yuuto staggered, nearly toppling, and caught himself on the edge of the chair. Chest heaving, he pressed a hand to his knee.
[Progress: 0/1 Successful Shot]
His lips twisted in frustration.
"No… that's not enough," he muttered.
Sweat dripped down his temple. His arms trembled as he gripped the ball again, his knee pulsing with every beat of his heart, screaming at him to sit down and give up.
But his mind refused.
He recalled the last game he had played before the accident the roar of the crowd, the weight of expectations, the thrill of chasing the rim. That memory ignited a fire hotter than the pain in his leg.
"I can do this," he whispered, teeth gritted. "I have to do this."
He closed his eyes for a moment, steadying his breath. Inhale. Exhale. Feel the ball. Ignore the pain. Focus on the rim. Trust the muscle memory.
When he opened his eyes, they were sharp again, focused.
He planted himself carefully, left leg wobbly but holding. Right foot pressed firmly into the polished floor. He lifted the ball into the shooting pocket.
The hum of the fluorescent lights, the chill of the air, even the ache in his body seemed to fade. There was only the rim. Only the ball. Only him.
"Form… breathe… trust it…" he whispered under his breath.
He bent, lifted, and extended. Wrist flicked with precision. The ball spun off his fingers, arcing high into the air. Time slowed in his vision as it flew, the net waiting silently.
Swish.
The sound was delicate but deafening to him. The net whispered against the ball like a secret being told, and Yuuto froze, disbelief washing over him.
Golden letters shimmered in his vision:
[Quest Complete ]
Reward Gained: +2 Shooting | +1 Confidence
Hidden Achievement Unlocked: "First Shot After Injury"
Bonus: Stamina recovery slightly improved when playing in pain
He laughed, choked, tears stinging his eyes. He pressed the ball to his chest, not from pain, but from the relief and validation coursing through him.
"I… I made it…"
For the first time in months, hope didn't feel fragile. It felt real. Solid. Tangible.
The gym door creaked.
"Yuuto?"
He spun, wiping tears quickly. Ms. Tanaka, holding a clipboard, stood frozen in the doorway. Her eyes widened at the sight of him drenched in sweat, standing on his own, ball rolling gently at his feet, the net swaying as though acknowledging his victory.
"You… you took that shot, didn't you?"
Yuuto's throat tightened. He wanted to lie, but the evidence was undeniable.
"…I just needed to know," he admitted softly.
Ms. Tanaka sighed, stepping forward. She picked up the ball and handed it back, eyes softened with a mixture of concern and pride.
"You really don't know how to slow down, do you?" she said gently.
"I couldn't stop myself," he admitted, looking away, cheeks burning.
"But next time… don't do it alone," she said, tapping the ball. "Basketball isn't a solo game, Yuuto. Not even rehab. You want to shoot again? Then let's make it part of the program. Step by step. Together."
Yuuto nodded, gripping the ball with renewed determination. This wasn't the end it was the beginning.
Later that evening, Yuuto lay on his bed, the basketball resting against his side. His knee throbbed faintly a reminder he wasn't yet fully healed but it no longer felt like a cage.
He traced the seams of the ball with his fingers, recalling the shot, the motion, the feel of success in his own hands. The swish still echoed in his mind, louder than the clangs and misses of the past.
"I'll shoot. I'll dribble. I'll play again… no matter how long it takes," he whispered, voice trembling but resolute.
The faint pulse of the system seemed to approve.
[Hidden Progress: "Path of the Comeback" – 15%]
For the first time since the injury, he didn't just imagine returning to the court. He had felt it, controlled it, touched it. And tomorrow, he would take the next step.
The ball lay beside him, simple yet profound a symbol of hope, of effort, of a path back to the game he loved. Yuuto closed his eyes, exhausted but smiling, ready for the next challenge.
The comeback had truly begun.