"Good morning, everyone."
Hayato lifted his arms over his head, stretching until his shoulders gave a quiet pop.
The gym carried a faint chill but was quickly warming as the players gathered. Pale sunlight filtered through the high windows, scattering across the scuffed floorboards. The air smelled faintly of varnish and dust.
"…Morning."
Tetsuo's voice came low and even, his expression unreadable as he stifled a small yawn.
"Ah, good morning, Hayato." Yukio rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his voice still heavy. "Looks like everyone made it on time today."
"I'm so sleepy. I feel like crap right now."
Noboru's voice dragged between yawns, his eyelids heavy, shoulders slouched. His sneakers squeaked with each sluggish step toward the baseline.
A short blast of the whistle cut through the gym air. Coach Nanaho lowered it from her lips, her gaze sweeping over the group.
"Alright, everyone. Morning training starts now."
Everyone mumbled a tired "yes," voices uneven and half-hearted as they lifted a hand into the air.
The whistle twirled around Nanaho's fingers before she raised it again.
"I can't hear you!"
Her voice rang out across the gym, full of energy that clashed with the team's sluggishness.
"Yes!"
Shino's reply burst out louder than the rest. The sound echoed against the walls, drawing every pair of eyes toward him.
His face reddened instantly, and he rubbed the back of his neck, looking away.
Training began, the steady squeak of shoes echoing through the gym.
Noboru dribbled up the court, the steady thump of the ball echoing off the gym walls. Before he could cross half-court, Hayato closed in from the side, his hand darting out.
The ball was gone before Noboru even realized it.
"Dammit, Hayato."
The words slipped through his teeth as he turned, frustration tightening his steps on the way back to defense.
"You still haven't learned how to protect the ball," Hayato replied, glancing back with a faint grin as he dribbled forward. "After all that practice… feels like you're wasting your time."
Yukio was already there to meet him, closing the space between them.
The two stopped almost chest to chest at the free-throw line. Hayato shifted left, spun, and slipped the ball behind his back.
Shino, caught off guard, barely managed to catch it.
"Whoa—"
The ball nearly slipped from his hands as he steadied himself. He rose for a shot, flicking his wrist cleanly, but the ball struck the rim and bounced off with a dull clang.
"Too much power."
Tetsuo's voice came from under the hoop as he caught the rebound.
He took one step forward, aiming for a quick layup. Before he could release it, Yukio leapt—his hand meeting the ball midair with a sharp smack.
The ball rolled free across the court, echoing faintly before Takahiro scooped it up and charged down the other side.
"You'll find it's not as easy to score as you think."
Yukio's tone carried a hint of amusement, breath steady as his feet hit the floor again.
Tetsuo only looked at him, face unreadable. He said nothing, but the air between them seemed to tighten.
Takahiro pushed through the lane, one last dribble before his layup met the backboard. The ball dropped cleanly through the net with a soft swish.
The ball bounced twice before Yukio caught it on the rebound. He tucked it under his arm, glancing toward his teammates.
"Reset."
His voice came even and low, cutting through the echo in the gym.
Everyone jogged back into formation. The air felt heavier now, thick with effort and sweat.
Yukio dribbled up the court, posture firm, eyes steady. Across from him, Tetsuo waited just past the half line, knees bent, hands raised slightly.
His face showed nothing, his gaze fixed only on Yukio's movements.
The ball struck the floor in a steady rhythm—thud, thud, thud—each sound sharp and clear.
Yukio stepped forward once, testing his defender. Tetsuo didn't flinch. Another step, quicker this time. Still no reaction.
Then Yukio shifted his weight sharply, crossing the ball over from right to left. Tetsuo's eyes tracked the motion without moving his feet.
A faint squeak from Yukio's sneakers cut through the air as he spun, trying to slip past on the right. Tetsuo's arm came up, blocking the lane, body firm but calm.
Yukio's jaw tightened. He changed direction again, crossing the ball behind his back and pulling up for a jumper.
Tetsuo's hand rose in front of him, close enough that Yukio felt the air move. The ball left Yukio's fingers and hit the rim, rolling once before dropping through.
The sound of the net brushing lightly was followed by the faint echo of Yukio's exhale.
"You're not easy to deal with."
Yukio's tone stayed even, his breath calm as he met Tetsuo's blank stare.
Tetsuo gave a single nod, turning without a word as he jogged to retrieve the ball, the faint sound of his footsteps echoing softly across the gym floor.
"Shino! Get back on defense faster!"
Nanaho's voice carried across the court, sharp and clear after she cupped her hands around her mouth.
Shino's shoes skidded slightly as he turned on his heel, sweat already forming along his forehead from the warmup drills. His breath came uneven.
"I'll do better next time."
Hayato jogged forward with a light bounce in his steps, the rhythm of the basketball against the floor blending with the sound of sneakers.
"Hayato," Nanaho called out, watching his movements closely.
"You're too relaxed. Even if your defender isn't good enough to stop you, move as if he is."
"Okay, I will."
Hayato steadied his breath, lowering his stance.
I heard that.
Noboru's tone carried his irritation, feet shifting as he matched Hayato's rhythm.
The sharp sound of rubber against wood marked his first step.
He crossed to the left, then right—the court echoing each movement.
Noboru's arm lifted, reaching for the ball, but Hayato was already past him.
The pass left his hands cleanly. Tetsuo caught it without hesitation, his grip firm, posture unchanged as he turned toward the hoop.
Tetsuo gave a short pump fake. Yukio's body reacted first—feet leaving the floor too soon.
The moment his shoes lost contact, Tetsuo slipped past him, two quick steps, then a quiet leap.
The ball struck the backboard and dropped through the net, the faint swish cutting clean through the air.
Hayato stepped in, palm landing solidly on Tetsuo's back.
The sound of the slap mixed with the steady rhythm of shoes and bouncing balls across the court.
"Nice one, Tetsuo."
The praise hung in the air.
Tetsuo's expression didn't shift. The damp fabric clung to his back, skin warm under the lights.
Sweaty clothes are… uncomfortable, he thought, adjusting his shoulders slightly before walking back to position.
Yukio let out a small breath, a faint smile pulling at his lips.
"…He got me that time."
He lifted his shirt and wiped the sweat from his face, the cloth damp against his skin.
Nanaho's arms folded loosely over her chest, her gaze following each movement on the court.
"He's been paying attention to what I told him. Always finding a way to grow…"
Her voice was low, a hint of satisfaction in it. "This time, we might really reach Inter-High."
A sharp knock against the metal door cut through the noise of the gym. The sound echoed once, then faded, leaving a thin silence.
Everyone turned.
Liam stood in the doorway, the morning light framing his outline. A gym bag hung from his shoulder. Sweat glimmered faintly across his brow, his breathing calm, posture unyielding.
Yukio leaned slightly toward Tetsuo, his voice barely above a whisper.
"…That foreign student… Liam Ainsworth. What's he doing here?"
Noboru tilted his head, eyes tracing Liam's frame.
"…He's taller than I remember."
Hayato blinked, a trace of surprise breaking his usual calm.
"Liam?" His tone steadied as he stepped forward. "What brings you here?"
Liam crossed the threshold, each step deliberate. The soft thud of his shoes echoed once before settling into the air.
He stopped at the center of the court, his gaze steady, meeting each of theirs in turn.
"I came to join the basketball team."
The sound of a ball bouncing nearby slowed, then stopped. The gym fell still around him.
A faint murmur rippled through the group. Hayato's hand lowered to his side, fingers brushing the ball without dribbling.
Yukio's eyebrows lifted.
"…You're serious?"
His voice caught slightly, the words rough around the edges.
Takahiro rolled his shoulders, fingers flexing once.
"So that makes seven."
Hayato stepped forward, eyes steady.
"You're leaving track? I thought running was what you wanted."
Liam looked down at the court, the surface marked with faded lines and worn spots.
His fingers brushed the strap of his bag before his gaze returned to Hayato.
"After our one-on-one the other day, I realized I'd been running for my uncle's sake, not my own. But when I play basketball… I can't stop thinking about the court, the rim, the motion. I want to keep playing through high school."
Hayato's expression eased, his breath settling.
"…I'm glad. Having you here will make a difference."
For a while, neither of them moved.
Hayato's eyes stayed on Liam's, steady and unspoken. Liam met the look, his breathing slow, shoulders set.
The air between them carried the faint scent of dust and sweat. Somewhere in the gym, a loose ball rolled and came to rest against the wall.
Hayato gave a small nod—nothing more.
Liam returned it, the corners of his mouth tightening slightly.
That was enough.
Liam stepped forward with an easy grin, his energy brightening the space. He gave a small bow, voice carrying a light, upbeat tone.
"Right! Let me introduce myself. I'm Liam Ainsworth, a foreign exchange student. I used to be on the track team. Thank you for having me!"
His posture was lively, eyes glinting with a mix of excitement.
Yukio stepped forward, his tone steady but welcoming.
"Welcome, Liam. I'm Yukio Hamaguchi, third year and captain. Let's give it our all."
He extended his hand. Liam's face brightened as he reached out quickly, gripping Yukio's hand with both of his.
"Mm! I'll work hard!"
Nanaho stood at the sideline, clipboard tucked against her chest as she watched the two shake hands. A faint smile formed on her lips, one she couldn't quite hide.
Seven players… finally.
The thought warmed her chest. The tournament isn't far now. With this, our chances for Inter-High are real.
Her eyes shifted to Yukio, whose expression carried a quiet satisfaction. He looks happy… I'm glad.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the clipboard, not from tension, but from the quiet excitement she tried to keep steady.
Outside, the morning sun climbed higher, its light spilling through the tall windows in soft, golden streaks.
Inside the gym, the rhythm of sneakers and bouncing balls blended with the sharp calls of players and the shrill of Nanaho's whistle.
Liam crouched to tighten his laces once more, the knot pulling firm beneath his fingers. He rose, joining the others in their drills.
The sound of the ball striking the floor, the echo of breath and movement—it all carried a different weight now.
This wasn't just a game of effort alone.
It was the beginning of something taking shape.