Fumi stared at him.
"…Your team?"
The man nodded.
"Yeah."
Fumi tightened his grip on the ball.
"I just got cut."
"I know."
Fumi froze.
"…You know?"
The man smiled slightly.
"I was watching."
That made Fumi's chest tighten.
"So you saw all that… and you still want me?"
"Exactly."
Fumi didn't understand.
"…Why?"
The man stepped closer, stopping right in front of him.
"Because you're the kind of player I'm looking for."
Fumi frowned.
"I didn't even make a shot."
"I know."
"That doesn't make sense."
The man let out a small breath.
"My name's Ranto."
Fumi stayed quiet.
Ranto continued.
"I'm building a team."
"A normal team?" Fumi asked.
Ranto shook his head.
"No."
A pause.
"Something better."
Fumi's eyes narrowed slightly.
Ranto looked up at the rim.
"Everyone wants to go to the NBA, right?"
Fumi didn't answer.
"But most people rely on talent. Or luck. Or just hope they get noticed."
Ranto looked back at him.
"I don't believe in that."
Fumi listened.
"I'm going to build the best team from scratch," Ranto said. "No shortcuts. No excuses."
"How?" Fumi asked.
Ranto's eyes sharpened.
"I gather players."
"Players who aren't perfect."
"Players who struggle."
"Players who are willing to break themselves just to get better."
Fumi felt something shift in his chest.
Ranto continued.
"I've got a facility."
"Private."
"Built for one thing only."
Fumi swallowed.
"…What?"
"Training."
Ranto's voice stayed calm.
"But not normal training."
Fumi's grip tightened again.
"Six hours a day," Ranto said. "5 days a week."
Fumi's eyes widened slightly.
"We push everything."
"Strength. Speed. Control. Shooting. Mental."
"Everything."
Ranto stepped a little closer.
"No distractions."
"No comfort."
"Just improvement."
Fumi's heart started beating faster.
"This isn't for people who quit," Ranto said. "And it's definitely not for people who want it easy."
Silence.
The court felt different now.
Heavier.
Fumi looked down at the ball.
Six hours…
Every day…
He thought about the game.
The misses.
The laughs.
The words.
Dead weight.
His grip tightened.
"…And you think I can do that?"
Ranto didn't hesitate.
"I know you can."
That hit.
Different from before.
Not pity.
Not encouragement.
Just… certainty.
Fumi looked up at him.
"…Why me?"
Ranto smiled slightly.
"Because you're still here."
Fumi froze.
The night air felt colder.
The court lights buzzed above them.
Ranto reached into his pocket.
And pulled something out.
"Here," he said.
Fumi stared at it.
"…What is that?"