Ace of the Bench

The gym was nearly empty that afternoon. The sun angled through the high windows, strips of golden light stretching across the hardwood floor. Dust motes floated in the beams, glowing as if the gym itself was holding its breath.

Yuuto stood at the free-throw line, his crutches propped against the wall, his brace tightly fastened beneath his sweats. The basketball in his hands felt heavier than usual not because of its weight, but because of what it represented.

Every part of him screamed to sit down, to wait for Marcus, to lean on something. But he didn't. Not this time.

He dribbled once. Thump.

The sound echoed, sharp and hollow.

The ball bounced back up, wobbling slightly, and Yuuto caught it with both hands. His palms were slick already, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might shake the ball free.

He muttered to himself. "Okay… one step. Just one step."

He shifted his weight forward. His right leg the one that had betrayed him for so long trembled under the pressure. Pain sparked, but it wasn't the kind that crushed him anymore. It was manageable, a reminder of how far he'd come.

Breathe. Don't rush.

He bent his knees, lowering his center of gravity. The ball bounced again. Thump. Thump. Each bounce steadier. His shoulders loosened, his rhythm syncing with the sound.

"Yo!"

The sudden voice nearly made him drop the ball. Yuuto glanced up to see Marcus pushing the gym doors open, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"What're you doing, starting without me?" Marcus grinned, walking over.

Yuuto shook his head quickly. "Not… not a drill. I just… I need to try."

Marcus slowed, catching the seriousness in his best friend's eyes. He set the bag down, leaned against the wall, and crossed his arms. "Alright. Then I'll watch."

The air thickened. Yuuto nodded, swallowing hard. It was one thing to attempt this alone. It was another to have Marcus his motivator, his rival, his witness there to see him either succeed or fall flat.

He bounced the ball again. Thump. Thump. Thump.

"Steady," Marcus said quietly.

Yuuto planted his right foot, then his left. His body wobbled, like a newborn deer trying to stand. His arms trembled with the effort of balancing the ball and himself.

"Come on," Marcus urged, his voice low but firm. "You got this."

Yuuto clenched his jaw. He bent lower, the ball snapping against the floor. His rhythm steadied: thump… thump… thump. His knees shook, but his core tightened, holding him upright.

Then, for the first time, his body didn't collapse. He was standing. On his own.

Yuuto's breath hitched. "I… I'm up."

Marcus clapped once, sharp and loud. "Damn right you are! Now finish it!"

Yuuto dribbled again, this time daring to take a step forward. The ball bounced obediently, his left hand guiding it, his right adjusting his balance. He was moving slow, uneven, but moving.

He reached the paint. The rim loomed above him, impossibly far yet tantalizingly close.

Yuuto gathered the ball in both hands, bent his knees, and pushed upward. His right leg screamed, fire racing up his thigh, but he ignored it.

The ball lifted from his fingertips, tracing a clean arc.

Swish!

The net snapped crisply, the ball dropping through with perfection.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Marcus's voice broke it like thunder. "LET'S GOOOOO!" He slapped the wall, laughing, nearly dancing in place. "That's it, bro! That's it! No help, no chair, no crutches you just did it!"

Yuuto stood frozen beneath the rim, chest heaving, his entire body buzzing. He could barely believe it himself. I… I stood. I dribbled. I shot. And it went in.

His legs finally buckled, and he staggered back into Marcus's waiting arms.

Marcus steadied him, grinning so wide it almost hurt to look at. "You're insane. You really pulled it off."

Yuuto's hands shook as he covered his face. The tears came fast, hot, unstoppable. Not the tears of frustration he'd shed so many times before these were different. These were the tears of release, of victory.

"I… I did it," he whispered, voice cracking. "I really did it."

Marcus squeezed his shoulder. "Damn right. You earned this. Every drop of sweat, every painful rep you turned it into this moment."

Yuuto laughed through the tears, the sound rough and raw. His chest felt lighter than it had in months, like the world's weight had finally shifted.

The system chimed softly, its text glowing bright in his vision:

First Solo Success Achieved!

Standing Dribble → Completed.

Layup → Completed.

Skill Unlocks:

– Layups: Gold Confirmed

– Basic Handles Lv.1 Confirmed

Hidden Progress: "Path of the Comeback" – 10%

The text hovered, then faded, leaving only a faint shimmer.

Yuuto wiped his eyes quickly, laughing again. "Even the system knows."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? What's it say?"

"Gold layups. Handles unlocked."

Marcus let out a low whistle. "Damn. You're leveling up for real." He leaned closer, grinning. "Guess that means I gotta step my game up before you catch me."

Yuuto smirked weakly. "You better. 'Cause I'm not stopping here."

They sat together on the floor, backs against the padded wall, the ball resting between them. The gym was quiet again, save for their breathing and the occasional creak of the rafters.

Marcus nudged him with an elbow. "So what's next? You finally dunking on me?"

Yuuto laughed, the sound genuine and light. "Not yet. But one day."

His gaze lifted to the rim again. For the first time since the accident, it didn't look like an impossible height. It looked like a destination.

And now, he knew he could reach it.