Ace of the Bench

The morning sunlight cut through the tall windows of the rehab gym, warm but not oppressive, illuminating dust motes that danced lazily in the air. Yuuto sat on the edge of the bench, towel draped over his shoulders, fingers absently tracing the seams of his basketball. His knee throbbed faintly—a constant reminder that the recovery process was far from over.

The gym was quiet, almost too quiet. The echo of distant bouncing balls and squeaking sneakers in other courts was missing, leaving an almost eerie stillness. Yuuto had grown used to this silence, the empty space forcing him to confront his limits alone.

A sudden clatter of sneakers on the polished floor broke the stillness, followed by a familiar, teasing voice.

"Yo, Kai! You planning to sulk here all day, or are we actually gonna play some basketball?"

Yuuto looked up, squinting against the sunlight, and felt a grin tug at his lips. Marcus leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossed, basketball tucked under one arm, his usual carefree smirk in place.

"Marcus," Yuuto said, voice faintly hoarse, "I—"

"Relax, man. I'm just here to make sure you don't turn into a permanent benchwarmer," Marcus interrupted, stepping fully into the room. He spun the basketball on his finger, the small thrum of its contact with his hand punctuating the quiet.

Yuuto chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm not sulking. Just… thinking."

"Uh-huh," Marcus replied, rolling his eyes but smiling. "Thinking, huh? About how much you suck, or how much cooler I am?"

Yuuto laughed softly, the sound foreign to him in this quiet, serious rehab gym. "Probably both," he admitted.

Marcus tossed the basketball lightly in his hands, then smirked, tilting his head. "Alright, sulk-face. Time to remind you why basketball's fun, okay? But… let's start slow. No knee explosions today."

Yuuto shifted on the bench, flexing his fingers around his ball. "I'm listening."

---

Marcus moved closer, positioning the basketball at Yuuto's feet. "First, stationary dribbles. Nothing fancy. Just hands on the ball, up and down. Focus on control. Feel the rhythm."

Yuuto nodded, planting his feet firmly on the floor. He had practiced dribbling in mental visualization drills, but this was the first time Marcus had come to supervise, and the presence of his best friend felt different. Motivating.

"Remember," Marcus continued, "don't overthink. Let the ball teach you. It's lighter than it looks once you stop freaking out about hurting yourself."

Yuuto flexed his fingers and tapped the ball lightly. Thump. Thump. Thump. He concentrated, feeling the vibrations travel through his palms, the weight shift slightly with each bounce.

"Good. Look at that," Marcus said, nodding approvingly. "Not bad for a guy who's been off his feet for weeks."

Yuuto grinned faintly, a flicker of pride warming his chest. "Feels… weird but good."

"Yeah, weird is your new normal right now. Welcome to recovery basketball." Marcus leaned casually against the wall, watching with a critical eye that was softened by encouragement.

---

After a few minutes, Marcus introduced wrist flick drills. "Okay, stationary's done. Now, just wrist flicks. Up and down, quick motion, no elbow, no panic. It's all in the fingertips."

Yuuto held the ball, flexing his wrists experimentally. He had forgotten how much control came from the fingers, how subtle a shift could change the arc of a shot. Each flick was deliberate, measured, but the repetitive motion made his arms burn, and his shoulder ached slightly.

"Not bad, not bad," Marcus said. "But come on, Kai. Don't chicken out. Wrist! Snappy! Make the ball dance."

Yuuto laughed through a grimace, pushing his shoulders back and flicking harder, more confidently. He could feel improvement after just a few dozen repetitions—the ball responded smoother, almost like it remembered him.

"You see that?" Marcus asked, eyes gleaming. "Your hands remember what your legs don't yet. That's the trick—make the small stuff perfect before the big stuff."

Yuuto nodded, sweat forming at his temples. The physical strain was mild, manageable, but the focus required was taxing. He pressed on, each flick deliberate, pushing his confidence with the small successes.

---

Finally, Marcus brought over a sturdy chair and positioned it a few feet from the hoop. "Alright, time for something more fun. Chair layups. No knee stress, just mechanics. Pretend you're gliding past defenders in your mind."

Yuuto adjusted his position, sitting tall, gripping the ball firmly. He flexed his core, imagining the motion of his legs propelling him upwards, even though he wasn't leaving the seat.

Marcus crouched slightly, demonstrating. "See? Arms straight, wrist flick, follow through. Don't just throw it—send it like you mean it. Pretend the net is the only thing that exists."

Yuuto mimicked the motion. First shot: clank. The ball bounced off the rim awkwardly.

Marcus smirked. "Perfect. You hit the rim? That's called learning, buddy."

Second shot: swish. The clean sound made both of them grin. "Finally!" Yuuto said, excitement bubbling in his chest.

"See? I told you, it's like magic," Marcus said, leaning back, arms crossed. "Except, magic requires effort. You gotta repeat it, over and over, until it feels natural."

Yuuto nodded, breath quickening. He repeated the shot, integrating everything Marcus had taught: wrist flick, follow-through, and mental imagery of a defender closing in.

[System Notification: Progress – 40%]

He continued for dozens of repetitions, sweating, flexing his arms, sometimes misfiring, sometimes perfect. The chair limited stress on his knee, but the mental and upper body effort left him flushed, slightly dizzy.

Marcus leaned in, voice gentle but firm. "Look at you, grinning like a maniac. This isn't just drills, Kai. This is the fun part—the reason we play. Remember that."

Yuuto exhaled, nodding. The thrill of sinking a shot, even seated, felt like freedom. For weeks, basketball had been a duty, rehab, pain, struggle. Now, for the first time, it felt like play again.

---

Marcus moved closer, rolling the ball lightly in his hands. "Okay, last thing before we call it a morning. I want you to combine dribble, wrist flick, and layup in one smooth sequence. Slow at first, then faster. No pressure on the knee—remember?"

Yuuto planted the ball between his hands, exhaled, and imagined the sequence: dribble once, flick the wrist, chair layup.

First attempt: wobble. The ball hit the rim. Frustration tickled at the back of his mind, but he steadied himself.

"Shake it off, Kai. It's just the first try," Marcus said, grinning. "You think I didn't miss a hundred times when I started?"

Yuuto laughed faintly, recalibrated, and tried again. Swish. He felt a spark ignite inside him. Another repetition. Swish again. And again.

Minutes passed, repetition after repetition. Sweat dripped down his forehead and soaked the back of his shirt. His arms ached, his shoulder protested, but the grin on his face only widened.

Marcus clapped him on the shoulder. "Now that is basketball. See, you're not broken—you're just rusty. And rust? Rust comes off with motion."

[System Notification: Quest Complete – Reward Gained: +1 Dribbling | +1 Shooting Form | Passive Skill Progress: Momentum Build +1]

Yuuto exhaled deeply, leaning back on the chair, hands shaking slightly around the ball. He had worked hard, yes—but it had been fun. He had laughed, been corrected, pushed himself, and succeeded.

"Thanks… Marcus," Yuuto said quietly, looking at his best friend. "I didn't… I mean, I didn't realize how much I needed this."

Marcus shrugged, leaning against the wall with a faint grin. "Told you. Rehab's boring, but basketball? That's life. Remember that next time you think you're too tired or too sore."

Yuuto nodded, fingers tracing the seams of the ball, feeling a warmth spreading in his chest that wasn't just from exertion. It was hope, excitement, the tiniest flicker of joy that he hadn't felt since the injury.

They spent a few more minutes casually dribbling, laughing at misfires, joking about imagined defenders and impossible shots. The gym no longer felt intimidating or empty—it felt alive, like the echoes of their shared memories and dreams had returned.

Before Marcus left, he ruffled Yuuto's hair with a grin. "Same time tomorrow, alright? And remember… don't just think about recovery. Think about basketball. The court is waiting."

Yuuto nodded, chest tight, a smile breaking fully across his face. "I'll be ready."

As Marcus' footsteps faded down the hallway, Yuuto stayed seated for a moment, flexing his fingers experimentally on the ball. His knee still throbbed faintly, a reminder of work left undone, but the spark was back. The spark of movement, control, and, most importantly, fun.

[Hidden Progress: "Path of the Comeback" – 25%]

He whispered softly to himself, almost reverently, "Step by step… shot by shot… I'll get back."

The sunlight streamed in through the windows, warm and unrelenting, and for the first time in weeks, the gym felt like a home again—a place of growth, of laughter, and of the game he loved.