Renji arrived home just as the last light of dusk faded into the horizon. The day had drained him more than he expected. The weighted vest training had ended, yet its lingering effects still clung to his body like a phantom burden. Every step he took inside the house felt lighter than usual, but the contrast only made him more aware of how much effort they had endured for the past week.
He dropped his bag near the door and stretched his arms overhead, releasing a long breath.
"Tomorrow…" he muttered.
The thought alone sharpened his focus.
He grabbed his phone and opened their group chat. Messages were already flooding in, Kevin sending reminders, May discussing rotations, and a few others throwing in jokes to ease the tension. But beneath it all, one thing remained clear: the friendly match against Aoi's team was set.
Renji typed briefly. "Rest early. As we go all out tomorrow."
He locked his phone and lay back on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Unlike before, his mind did not wander aimlessly. It replayed movements footwork, timing, spacing. Every detail had been refined over the past week. The heavy vests had forced their bodies into inefficiency, and now that they were free, their movements had sharpened into something far more dangerous.
He closed his eyes.
Morning came quickly.
The team gathered at the court earlier than usual, the air still cool and crisp. There was a quiet intensity among them, no unnecessary chatter, no wasted energy. Even the usual playful banter had been replaced by focused glances and subtle nods.
Renji arrived last, a basketball tucked under his arm.
"You're late," Shin said, though his tone lacked any real irritation.
"Not really," Renji replied calmly, glancing at the clock. "Still early."
May crossed her arms, observing him. "You look rested."
"I am."
"That's good," she said. "We'll need it."
Across the court, Aoi's team had already begun warming up. Their movements were sharp, disciplined, and, well-trained. But something felt off.
Renji narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Aoi's not there," he said.
The others followed his gaze.
"…You're right," one of the players muttered.
Xin frowned. "That's strange. He's their main player."
"Not strange," Renji replied. "Intentional."
May tilted her head. "You think their coach is holding him back?"
Renji nodded once. "Probably testing us. Or underestimating us."
Shiki scoffed lightly. "Either way, that's disrespectful."
Renji's grip tightened slightly on the ball.
"Then we'll make them regret it."
The first ones as starters were Kevin, Renji, Shiki, Shin, and Shiki.
The game will start. They were all positioned and with a tip off. Kevin was the one to do the thing. With a whistle of the ref, they both leaped.
From the very first possession, the difference was clear.
Renji's team moved faster.
Not just in speed but in execution. Passes snapped through the air with precision. Footwork was crisp, efficient. Every movement carried purpose.
The opposing team tried to match the pace, but they were a step behind.
Renji drove into the lane within the first minute, his body cutting through defenders with ease. The weight that once slowed him was gone, and the release of that restriction transformed his explosiveness.
He scored.
Again and again.
On defense, Kevin dominated the paint. His vertical had returned and improved. Rebounds were snatched effortlessly, his presence alone disrupting the opposing offense.
Their guards pressured relentlessly, their dribbling sharper, quicker. The hesitation that once plagued them was gone.
Within minutes, the score began to widen.
10–2.
18–6.
26–9.
The opposing coach called a timeout.
From the sidelines, Renji watched quietly. His gaze drifted toward the bench.
Still no Aoi.
"He's really not putting him in," one teammate muttered.
"Does he think we're a joke?" another added.
Renji exhaled slowly.
"No," he said. "He thinks this is enough."
May glanced at him. "And?"
Renji's eyes sharpened.
"Then we'll show him it's not!" May added.
The game resumed. But instead of easing up, Renji's team intensified. They pressed harder and moved faster. They even played sharper.
Renji orchestrated the offense like a conductor, dictating the rhythm with every pass and drive. He read the defense effortlessly, exploiting every gap, every hesitation.
A crossover and defender gone.
A no-look pass and easy layup.
A sudden pull-up and clean shot.
The gap widened further.....
40–15.
The opposing team began to crumble.
Their movements lost structure. Their confidence faltered. Mistakes piled up, missed passes, forced shots, broken plays.
And still.....
No Aoi.
Renji clicked his tongue softly.
"Not enough," he murmured.
Shin heard him. "You want more?"
Renji nodded.
"Break them."
What followed was not just domination.
It was dismantling.
Every possession became a lesson in control. Renji's team stripped away any hope the opposing side had left. Defense turned suffocating. Offense became relentless.
They didn't just score. But they overwhelmed.
50–18.
58–20.
The gym grew quieter with each passing minute.
On the bench, Aoi sat still, his expression unreadable. But his eyes were locked onto the court, following every play.
The coach beside him remained composed but the tightening of his jaw betrayed his thoughts.
Renji noticed.
And pushed further.
A fast break Renji sprinted down the court, receiving the ball mid-stride. A defender stepped in front of him.
Too slow.
Renji shifted, slipping past him with ease before finishing at the rim.
The sound of the ball hitting the net echoed sharply.
60–20.
This time, the coach stood.
"Timeout."
—
Silence settled briefly as both teams gathered.
Renji wiped the sweat from his forehead, his breathing steady.
"They're breaking," Shin said.
"Not yet," Renji replied.
May glanced toward the opposing bench. "Now they will."
Renji followed her gaze.
The coach was speaking firm and decisive. And then.....
He turned.
"Aoi. You're in."
A small shift.
But it changed everything. Renji's lips curved slightly. "Finally."
When Aoi stepped onto the court, the atmosphere shifted. Then the air tightened.
Even the opposing team seemed to regain a fragment of their composure.
Renji bounced the ball lightly, watching him approach.
"So," Renji said, voice calm, "they finally let you play."
Aoi met his gaze.
"You forced it."
Renji shrugged.
"That was the point."
Aoi's eyes flickered briefly toward the scoreboard.
60–20.
"…You didn't hold back."
"No," Renji said. "We couldn't."
A brief silence passed between them.
Then Aoi smirked faintly.
"Good."
Renji mirrored it.
"Let's see if you can change anything."
The whistle blew.
And the real game began.