The principal held the door as Coach Shimizu and his squad stepped inside. Marcus and Coach Takeda flanked her, escorting the visitors down the short hallway to the main gym.
The moment the doors swung open, a wall of noise hit them. Students packed the bleachers, clapping, stomping, shouting names. Teachers lined the railings, clipboards in hand, some smiling, some tense. The bright scoreboard flickered as referees tested bulbs and reset the timer.
The polished floor gleamed under the lights, faint scuff marks from earlier practice visible. Banners of past championships hung from the far wall.
"Go ahead and warm up," Coach Shimizu said, voice calm but carrying. The blue-and-white sweatsuits split into lines. Bench players hit the floor, running layups, chest passes, sprints. Sneakers tapped a steady rhythm against the hardwood like a drumline.
Marcus rolled his shoulders and jogged to the baseline. He peeled off his jacket to reveal the home jersey and shorts, dark blue-and-white Jordans squeaking as he stretched. Coach Takeda stayed near center court with the visiting coach, speaking in low tones, studying the warm-ups like chess masters.
More students poured into the stands, buzzing about the "top school opponent," craning to get a look at the visitors. A few teachers waved foam fingers, trying to hype their classes.
Kana climbed into the front row next to Ayaka, pom-poms resting by her side. They weren't friends yet; Ayaka glanced at her once before returning to the court, fiddling with her phone to hide her distraction.
A whistle shrilled, sharp and clear. Referees motioned for both sides to line up. Warm-ups ended; players jogged back to the benches and stripped sweat tops and pants, revealing crisp uniforms.
The gym's noise rose another notch. Hands clapped, feet stomped. Marcus's eyes narrowed as he scanned the other team.
This was it.
The announcer's voice boomed over the chaos.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to today's scrimmage between Seiryō High School and Shikoku High School!"
The bleachers erupted. Phones rose. Students chanted.
"Introducing the starting line-up for Seiryō High!"
Spotlights swept over the home bench as each name was called.
Point Guard Number 7, Marcus Inoue!
Marcus jogged to center court, captain's band on his arm. Jersey fully tucked, white compression sleeve on his shooting arm, matching knee sleeve. Dark blue-and-white Jordans squeaked with every step. Six feet even, seventy-eight kilos, fourth-form. He raised a fist; the roar swelled.
Small Forward Number 26, Shunjin James!
Shun sprinted out, wiry speed at five-eight, sixty-seven kilos, the team's ace. Half-tucked jersey, black headband, one black calf sleeve on right leg, white-and-red Adidas Dames.
Center Number 17, Riku Tanaka!
Six-two, eighty kilos, fifth-form. Calm face, jersey fully tucked, both knees wrapped in black sleeves, thick white-blue Nike Zoom Freaks.
Shooting Guard Number 5, Kento Sato!
Five-six, sixth-form veteran. Jersey untucked at the back, red shooting sleeve on right arm, low-cut grey Curry Flows.
Power Forward Number 10, Daichi Moriyama!
Five-eight, seventy-eight kilos, fifth-form paint workhorse. Fully tucked jersey, two white armbands, black ankle brace left foot, high-top Air Jordan 37s in navy.
The crowd roared as Seiryō's five lined up at half-court, sneakers squeaking in unison.
The announcer continued without pause:
"And now, the starting line-up for Shikoku High School!"
Blue-and-white away uniforms, slightly lighter than Seiryō's, silver trim. Warm-ups unzipped, revealing jerseys as names were called.
Point Guard Number 10, Riku Senda!
Six-two, eighty kilos, third-form. Fully tucked jersey, navy headband, blue compression sleeve on left arm, white-blue Nike PG6s.
Shooting Guard Number 3, Akira Hoshino!
Five-five, sixty-four kilos, second-form rookie. Loose jersey, black armbands, blue Puma MB.02 lows.
Power Forward Number 5, Kaito Mizuno!
Five-six, seventy-six kilos, first-form. Half-tucked jersey, black padded undershirt, black knee sleeve, high-top black-and-blue LeBron Witness 8s.
Small Forward Number 8, Haruto Fujii!
Five-nine, seventy-two kilos, third-form. Jersey tucked in front, back loose; white calf sleeve left leg, white-silver Kobe 6 Protros.
Center Number 14, Daigo Nishimura!
Six-one, eighty-two kilos, third-form. Fully tucked jersey, two blue armbands, both knees wrapped, sky-blue Anta KT Splash, captain's band on arm.
The Shikoku bench stood behind them in identical sweats, warming up, calm and focused beyond their years.
From the stands, murmurs spread.
"They look so young…"
"Are those really the starters?"
"Where's their ace?"
Even Marcus glanced across the court.
"Are we really playing rookies?" Shun muttered.
"How are we supposed to test ourselves for the tournament?" Kento added.
Coach Takeda clapped his hands. "Focus! Doesn't matter who's on the floor. We run our game."
Coach Shimizu's eyes flicked to Yuuto on the bench—still injured, not playing. He nodded to himself.
The referee's whistle pierced the air. Players took their positions. The gym hushed.
The two tallest players, Tanaka and Nishimura, bent their knees, eyes locked on the orange leather.
The whistle shrilled. The referee tossed the ball high, spinning toward the gym lights.
Game on.