The scoreboard glared down from above the backboard: Shikoku 42 – Seiryō 29.
The buzzer blared BZZZZZZZT! ending the second quarter. The rookies had stretched their lead to thirteen.
Seiryō trudged to their bench. Sweat dripped off chins. Jerseys clung. Nobody spoke at first. Only the sound of the ball bouncing on the far end where Shikoku's subs were still shooting. The source of this content ɪs novel-fire.ɴet
Marcus dropped onto the bench, elbows on knees. His fingers worried at the laces of his shoes, twisting and untwisting them, as if untying could undo the score. The captain's band felt like an iron ring around his arm.
Nobody spoke at first. Only the pock-pock of a ball being dribbled by Shikoku's subs and the muted wahhh of the crowd as they stretched for halfti. Sowhere a soda can hissed open. Sneakers skrrrt across the far court.
The center, Hiro, kept tugging at the hem of his jersey, stretching it out and letting it snap back with a soft whup, his jaw locked tight.
And Yuuto sat at the edge of the bench, back straight, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles whitened, gaze fixed on a single scuff mark near midcourt. His warm-up jacket stayed zipped to the chin even though sweat beaded along his hairline.
Coach Takeda squatted in front of them, clipboard balanced on one palm. His eyes flicked across the five starters, reading their body language as if he could asure morale with a glance.
"Breathe," he said quietly. "We're not out yet."
Shunjin ripped off his headband and slapped it on the floor with a damp slap! knees jiggling, foot hamring an angry rhythm against the hardwood."They're just first- and second-forrs! How are they shutting us down?"
Kento leaned back, eyes closed, one knee bouncing up and down like a piston while his hands drumd soundlessly on his thighs. "Maybe because Yuuto's still sitting? We're short one scorer out there."
Marcus shot him a look but didn't speak. The bench's tension thickened like storm clouds.
Takeda's gaze shifted to Yuuto, who sat forward on the edge of the bench, hands locked between his knees, warm-up jacket zipped to his chin.
"You'll get your chance, Yuuto," the coach said evenly. "Wait. When we put you in, it has to count."
Yuuto nodded once, jaw tight. "Understood."
Takeda turned back to the others. "This isn't just speed. You're feeling their techniques their developed skills. Footwork angles, disguised passes, body control. They're using it to turn our strengths against us."
Shunjin's eyes widened with hate. "Are they better than us"
"Later." Takeda's voice sharpened. "For now, stay disciplined. Reset spacing. Marcus lead. Talk on defense."
Marcus inhaled deeply, forcing his shoulders to square. "Right."
Across the court, the rookies of Shikoku huddled around Coach Shimizu. They weren't laughing or joking; they were breathing in sync, eyes sharp as blades.
"Good job," Shimizu said, voice like a blade scraping steel. "But you should have had more. Too many missed chances under the rim. Be serious until the buzzer. Push it higher. Leave no air."
"Yes, Coach!" the five barked at once, the sound echoing like a single strike of a drum.
Daigo Nishimura's huge fra lood at the edge of the circle. His broad shoulders glistened with sweat, chest rising and falling like a piston. He didn't say a word, but his stare swept the court the way a lighthouse sweeps dark water. Every rookie on Shikoku felt it the anchor of their defense, the one who could push them higher just by existing.
A teammate reached for a towel; Daigo stopped him with a raised hand and kept staring across at Seiryō's bench. His nostrils flared, then his mouth curled in the faintest smile. They're still breathing hard. Good. Let them taste it. This is our tempo now.
The whistle for halfti shrilled. Both huddles broke. Seiryō jogged toward the locker hall. Shikoku stayed on the floor, shooting quick warm-ups, already thinking of the third quarter. Each shot snapped off fingertips with a thwip! each rebound landing in Daigo's hands with a heavy whump. He passed out to Akira Hoshino, who launched a jumper swish! Net rippling like silk.
Up in the bleachers, Kana whispered to Ayaka, "They're really only first- and second-forrs?"
Ayaka nodded slowly, eyes wide. "Monsters…"
The gym's buzz softened for a heartbeat as people shifted, getting snacks, scrolling phones. The scoreboard's numbers pulsed red in the corner of Ayaka's vision like a wound. Sowhere under the bleachers a vending machine clanged as a can dropped the small noises of halfti creeping in.
And then the double doors at the far end opened with a heavy clunk.
A tall figure stepped through, shadow spilling across the threshold. School jacket hanging off one shoulder. Head held high. Every step deliberate. The conversations in the stands slowed and then stopped, as if the air itself thickened.
A faint green aura shimred behind him, like heat over asphalt, pulsing once… twice… steady. It wasn't literal fla but everyone felt it a pressure in the chest, hair rising on arms. The sll of floor polish and sweat faded under a new scent, sharp and tallic, like ozone before a storm.
Whispers rippled through the crowd:
"Is that him?"
"No way…"
"A King of the Court…"
Even Shikoku's players paused mid-drill to glance over. Daigo caught sight of the newcor, eyes narrowing. For the first ti all ga, his expression shifted not fear, but interest. He bounced the ball once boom! then held it under one palm, shoulders squared toward the door.
Seiryō's bench turned as one. Marcus found himself standing without realizing it, eyes locked on the newcor. Sweat cooled on his neck. So he's finally here.
Sowhere in the stands a student muttered, "This is going to get crazy…"
Ayaka's fingers dug into the railing. "Who is he really?"
Kana didn't take her eyes off the floor. "The one they call a king. And Daigo's about to et him head-on."
Step… step… step… The sound of the newcor's sneakers on the hardwood cut through the murmurs like a drumbeat. With each step the green shimr brightened, the pulse of it syncing with the beat of hearts in the bleachers.
He moved past the scorer's table and stopped just inside the gym, scanning the court with eyes like searchlights. The green aura flickered once more, brighter.
Everyone, for a heartbeat, forgot the score.
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