Ace of the Bench Chapter 4: Back home

The first few days back ho were suffocating.

Yuuto's parents set him up in the living room with the couch pulled close to the TV, his ga console on a low table, and a small stack of sports magazines his mom thought would cheer him up.

They didn't.

He spent most of the day half-watching whatever was on, controller in hand but barely touching the buttons. Every ti a highlight reel ca on TV, he muted it. He didn't want to see the court, didn't want to see the speed and fluidity he couldn't replicate anymore.

The wheelchair was parked just a few feet from the couch, but it felt like it took up the whole room. Even when he sat in it, it didn't feel like moving just rolling around in the sa small space.

On the third afternoon, Daichi ca by again. This ti he brought snacks bags of chips, a bottle of soda, and a pack of basketball trading cards.

"Got sothing for you," Daichi said, tossing the cards onto Yuuto's lap.

Yuuto smirked and flipped the first one over. "You think a piece of cardboard is gonna replace playing?"

Daichi shrugged, dropping into the armchair across from him. "I just thought… y'know… you could still collect your favorite players."

They played video gas for a while, but Yuuto couldn't help noticing how Daichi's eyes kept drifting to the basketball in the corner, like he wanted to ask sothing but didn't dare.

"You can say it," Yuuto muttered finally.

"Say what?"

"That you can't wait to tell how good practice has been without slowing everyone down."

Daichi frowned. "Don't be like that, man. No one's happy you're out."

Yuuto looked away. "Yeah, well… give it a few weeks."

Later that week, two more teammates stopped by. They brought get-well cards signed by the whole team. So ssages were encouraging We'll see you back on court! but others, though well-aning, felt like pity: Even if you can't play again, you'll always be part of the team.

Yuuto forced smiles, cracked a few jokes, but the mont they left, the smile slid away. He stared at the wheelchair.

Even if you can't play again.

The words clung to him like wet clothes.

By the sixth night, the sumr air was heavy and warm, carrying the faint sll of grilled food from a neighbor's backyard. Yuuto sat by the open window in the living room, his leg stretched out on the couch, the TV off.

Then he heard it thump, thump, thump.

Basketball.

Sowhere down the street, kids were playing. Their laughter floated up with the sound of sneakers scraping asphalt, the ball hitting the rim, the occasional "Nice shot!" ringing in the night.

He closed his eyes. For a mont, he was there with them feeling the weight of the ball in his palms, the snap of the net, the pounding rush of a fast break.

Then his knee twitched, sending a sharp reminder of reality.

His eyes opened, and the ceiling felt too close again. He rolled onto his side, gripping a pillow like it might hold him together. The sounds outside went on, cheerful and careless.

Inside, Yuuto lay in silence, wide awake.

Three days later, the sumr heat was unbearable.

The fan in the living room rattled as it pushed stale air around. Yuuto sat in his wheelchair, one hand drumming on the armrest, the other gripping his phone. His social dia feed was flooded with updates from the sumr basketball circuit tournants, highlights, kids his age getting scouted.

And there it was.

A photo of Shun.

Grinning, one arm slung around the coach of their future high school team, holding a championship trophy from so invitational. The caption read:

"The next big thing in high school basketball."

Yuuto's grip on the phone tightened. He could almost hear Shun's voice from that day: Bet you won't even survive this ga, Kai.

His thumb hovered over the screen. He wanted to throw the phone across the room, but the thought of explaining another broken thing to his parents stopped him. Instead, he dropped it onto the couch and stared at the basketball in the corner.

It had been sitting there since he ca ho sa spot, sa angle, untouched.

Sothing inside him snapped.

He wheeled himself over, grabbed it, and set it on his lap. The familiar leather texture was both comforting and cruel. His hands rembered the grip, the way the grooves aligned with his fingers. His mind rembered the court. His knee rembered the pain.

Without thinking, he tried to stand.

It was a bad idea.

The mont weight touched his right leg, fire shot up from his knee, sharp enough to make him gasp and stumble back into the chair. The ball rolled away, bumping against the wall.

Yuuto sat there, shaking not from the pain this ti, but from the flood of everything he'd been holding back.

The quiet frustration from being stuck inside.

The way people's voices softened when they talked to him now.

The pity in their eyes.

The thought of Shun taking everything he'd worked for.

It all crashed into him at once. Follow current novᴇls on novel✶fire

He slamd his fist into the armrest, once, twice, three tis, until his knuckles throbbed. His chest tightened, and before he realized it, tears blurred his vision.

"I can't…" His voice broke. "I can't let it end like this."

The words hung in the air, raw and unpolished.

He wiped his face with the back of his hand, breathing hard. His gaze drifted to the ball against the wall.

Slowly, carefully, he wheeled over and picked it up again this ti holding it not like a reminder of what he'd lost, but a promise of what he'd take back.

It wouldn't be tomorrow.

It wouldn't be next week.

But soday, he'd be back.

And when he was, Shun would be the one struggling to keep up.