The ball slipped.
Not his.
The defender's hand got there first.
"Got it!" someone shouted.
Fumi's fingers barely brushed it before it was gone.
They took off.
Fast.
Again.
Fumi pushed himself forward, legs burning now, but it didn't matter.
He already knew.
The pass went ahead.
Layup.
Whistle.
And then
The buzzer rang.
Game over.
48 38.
They lost.
Fumi slowed to a stop.
Everything felt quiet now.
Too quiet.
The noise from earlier was gone. No cheering. No shouting. Just heavy breathing and the faint echo of shoes on the court.
His teammates walked past him.
No one said anything.
Not to him.
One guy clicked his tongue.
Another shook his head.
Fumi looked down at his hands.
Still shaking.
I didn't do anything.
Not one thing.
"Man…" someone muttered. "We could've had that."
"Yeah, if we didn't have dead weight."
Fumi froze.
He didn't look up.
He didn't need to.
He knew who they meant.
"Pack it up," the coach said.
His voice wasn't loud.
But it hit.
Hard.
They slowly walked to the bench.
Bags zipped.
Water bottles grabbed.
No one joked.
No one laughed.
Just silence.
Fumi sat down at the end.
Away from everyone.
He stared at the floor.
The same floor he just failed on.
Over and over again.
His chest felt tight again.
Worse this time.
Like it wasn't going away.
"...We'll fix it next time," one teammate said.
"Yeah," another replied, not really meaning it.
Fumi clenched his fists.
There won't be a next time for me.
"Fumi."
He flinched.
He looked up.
The coach was standing there.
Looking straight at him.
"Come outside for a second."
Fumi's stomach dropped.
"…Okay."
He stood up slowly.
Every step felt heavy again.
He followed the coach toward the exit.
The noise of the gym faded behind them.
The door creaked open.
Cool air hit his face.
They stepped outside.
The door shut behind them.
Fumi stood there.
Waiting.
Not saying anything.
Not breathing right.
The coach looked at him.
Silent.
For a moment.
Then