Fumi stared at the object in Ranto's hand.
A card.
Black.
Simple.
No design, no logo, nothing flashy.
Just a name.
Ranto.
And a number.
"…That's it?" Fumi asked.
Ranto nodded.
"That's all you need."
Fumi took it slowly.
The card felt heavier than it should've.
Like it meant something.
He looked down at it.
Then back up.
"…If I call this, I join your team?"
"Not yet," Ranto said. "You get a chance."
Fumi's chest tightened slightly.
"A chance?"
Ranto nodded.
"You show up. You train. You survive it."
A pause.
"Then you stay."
Fumi swallowed.
Survive.
That word stuck.
The court went quiet again.
Just the two of them.
Fumi looked at the card.
Then at the ground.
Then at the rim.
Miss after miss.
Voices laughing.
Dead weight.
Cut.
His grip tightened.
"…Let me ask you something."
Ranto stayed silent.
Watching.
Fumi looked him straight in the eyes.
"For real."
Ranto nodded once.
"Go ahead."
Fumi took a breath.
His heart was pounding again.
But not the same way as before.
"…Will it make me the best?"
Silence.
No hesitation.
Ranto nodded.
"Yes."
No long speech.
No explanation.
Just that.
Fumi felt something snap into place.
Not confidence.
Not yet.
But something close.
Enough.
He looked down at the card one last time.
Then closed his hand around it.
Tight.
"…Alright."
He looked up.
Eyes steady.
"I'm in."
Ranto smiled.
Not big.
But real.
"Good."
A pause.
"Be ready tomorrow."
Fumi blinked.
"…Tomorrow?"
Ranto turned, already starting to walk away.
"Six in the morning."
Fumi's eyes widened.
"Wait where even is it?"
Ranto didn't stop.
"You'll find out when you call."
And just like that
He kept walking.
Further away.
Until he disappeared past the lights.
Fumi stood there alone again.
The card still in his hand.
His heart was racing.
Tomorrow.
Six hours.
Every day.
He looked at the rim one more time.
Then down at the ball.
For the first time in a while
He didn't feel stuck.
He felt… something else.
"…I won't stay like this," he muttered.