The gym looked different at night.
Not darker—quieter.
Like the air itself was waiting to judge him.
Shunjin stood at midcourt, hands on his hips, sweat sliding off his jaw. The second unit players were scattered around, catching their breath, each one avoiding eye contact.
Takeda's voice sliced through the silence.
"Again. Reset."
Shunjin clenched his jaw until it hurt.
He jogged back to the baseline with the second unit, each step heavy and frustrated.
On the sidelines, Yuuto watched with a towel around his neck. Marcus leaned against the wall, unreadable. Daniel sat cross-legged, studying Shunjin with unsettling calm.
Shunjin could feel all their eyes.
He hated it.
Takeda tossed the ball to the second-unit setter, Keita—short, fast, reliable hands.
"This drill is simple," Takeda said, pacing slowly with his arms folded behind his back. "Every possession ends with Shunjin's touch."
Keita nodded. Everyone else nodded.
Shunjin swallowed.
Takeda's eyes sharpened.
