The orange glow of the sunset bled through the high windows of the gym, stretching the shadows of the hoops across the hardwood. Most of the team had already cleared out, but the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of a ball echoed against the walls.
Lev stood at the elbow, his long limbs looking particularly awkward as he attempted a mid-range jumper. The ball clattered off the front of the rim. Again.
"Ugh! Nobu-san, I don't get it!" Lev groaned, flopping onto the floor and splaying out like a giant starfish. "Why am I doing this? I'm the tallest guy in the region! I should be under the hoop, practicing my dunks so I can smash them over that Yosen guy. Why is Kenma-san making me shoot from out here?"
Nobuyuki, who was busy practicing his power drives to the rim, stopped and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his jersey. He looked at the younger player, his usual fierce expression softening just a fraction.
"You think you're the only one doing stuff you don't like?" Nobuyuki grunted, gesturing to the free-throw line where he'd spent the last hour. "Kenma's got me practicing positioning against guys way bigger than me. I'm already tall and I'm stuck doing this."
"This is not right!" Lev said, sitting up. "I'm fast and tall. Making me stay still and shoot or practice screens… it feels like he's trying to hold me back."
Nobuyuki let out a short, dry laugh. He walked over, picked up the ball, and tossed it back to Lev. "You really don't see it, do you? You think Kenma gives that much attention to people for no reason?"
Lev blinked, the ball resting in his oversized hands. "What do you mean?"
"Kenma is the most efficient person I know," Nobuyuki said, crossing his arms. "If he thought you were just a tall guy who could jump, he'd just tell you to stand in the paint and wait for a pass. But he's making you learn our screening patterns and outside shooting because he has the highest expectations for you out of anyone on this court."
Lev looked at the basket, then back at Nobuyuki. "Higher than yours? Or Kuroo-san's?"
"Kuroo and I... we already have our roles," Nobuyuki said, a rare moment of introspection crossing his face. "But Kenma sees more in you. He knows that your rebounding skills are good. But a two-meter player who can shoot, pass, and keep our fast-paced offense moving? That's a player who can actually win a title."
Nobuyuki stepped closer, his voice dropping. "He's training you to be the heart of this team, Lev. He's pushing you because, once we're gone after this year, it's going to be your Nekoma. He's not trying to hold you back—he's trying to make sure you're ready to take over."
Lev was silent. He'd always thought Kenma found him annoying—a loud, clumsy variable that messed up his perfect plans. He never realized that the extra drills and the grueling technical work were a form of investment.
"Take over... Nekoma," Lev whispered. He looked down at his hands, then up at the rim.
"Exactly," Nobuyuki said, slapping Lev on the back hard enough to make him stumble. "So stop whining and get back to practice. If you're going to be the next Ace, you can't be a one-trick pony. Our offense doesn't work if the big man doesn't know the rhythm."
Lev stood up, his posture straighter than it had been all day. He didn't head for the hoop to try a flashy dunk. Instead, he stepped back to the elbow, checked his footwork, and focused on the arc of the ball.
"One more set, Nobu-san!" Lev shouted, his usual energy returning, but this time with a sharper edge of focus. "I'll show Kenma-san I'm paying attention!"
Nobuyuki smirked, picking up the ball. "That's more like it. Keep up the enthusiasm Ace."