Ace of the Bench

Yuuto Kai stood in front of his mirror, tugging at the hem of his freshly ironed uniform shirt. For the first time in over a year, the reflection staring back at him didn't look broken.

The scar on his knee was still there, a jagged reminder of the pain, but he no longer saw it as a mark of weakness. His stance was straighter, his shoulders squared, and though his stomach knotted with nerves, his eyes carried something new resolve.

He dribbled a basketball lightly on the wooden floor of his room. thup, thup, thup. The rhythm was steady. Controlled. Like a promise to himself.

From the hallway came his dad's voice, warm but impatient.

"Yuuto, you'll be late for your first day back. Let's move, son."

Yuuto picked up his bag, tucked the ball under his arm, and gave his reflection one last nod. This is it. No more hiding.

The family car smelled faintly of leather and coffee. His dad gripped the wheel, glancing at Yuuto in the passenger seat.

"You ready for this?"

Yuuto shrugged, though his heart was hammering. "As ready as I can be."

His dad's lips curved into a small smile. "I watched you drag yourself through rehab. I watched you limp and crawl just to touch the ball again. If anyone's ready, it's you. Don't doubt that."

The words sank in, steadying Yuuto more than he expected. For months, his dad had been silent, distant even worried but not knowing how to help. This felt like acknowledgment. Approval.

Yuuto's throat tightened. "…Thanks, Dad."

They pulled into the school's parking lot, buzzing with students in fresh uniforms. Laughter, chatter, the squeak of shoes against pavement it was a world Yuuto had been absent from for too long.

And waiting at the gate, leaning against a lamppost with a lazy grin, was Marcus.

Marcus spotted him immediately. He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Kaiii! My comeback king!"

Yuuto flushed, shooting him a glare. "Keep your voice down, idiot."

Marcus only laughed, jogging over and slapping his shoulder. "Nah, let 'em all hear it. You've been gone too long. Time to remind people who you are."

The two fell into step together, their rhythm natural as always. But before they could even reach the main building, a voice called out from behind.

"Yuuto!"

He turned and blinked.

A girl with shoulder-length brown hair tied loosely into a ponytail and brown eyes ran up to him, her schoolbag bouncing against her side. Her uniform fit neatly, but what stood out most was her radiant energy, even while slightly out of breath.

"Kana," Yuuto murmured.

Kana Fujimoto. Childhood friend. Teammate once in middle school gym classes. And lately… almost a ghost.

She slowed to a stop, her hands on her knees as she panted. "I I'm so sorry. I didn't visit you all summer. I should've, but the training camp for nationals took me out of the country."

Yuuto blinked, then shook his head with a soft smile. "You don't need to apologize. You were chasing your own dream. Swimming's no joke."

Her eyes softened, guilt fading into relief. "Still… I worried about you. How's the knee? Did the doctor say"

Yuuto lifted his basketball, spinning it once on his finger. The motion was wobbly but steady enough. "Cleared. Light practice only, but… I'm back."

Her face lit up, a smile so wide it made Marcus whistle low. "That's amazing, Yuuto!"

Marcus leaned over with a teasing smirk. "Don't get too excited, Kana. He's still a benchwarmer until proven otherwise."

"Shut up," Yuuto muttered, elbowing him.

Kana giggled, her laughter like bells. For a moment, Yuuto forgot about the whispers and stares from passing classmates. For a moment, it felt like old times.

The three of them had about an hour before classes began. Marcus nudged Yuuto. "C'mon. Let's hit the gym. Get a few shots up before the day kicks off."

Yuuto hesitated, then nodded. The idea of touching the hoop inside the school gym again made his pulse race. He glanced at Kana. "You coming?"

She shook her head, lifting her bag. "Coach wants me at morning swim stretches. But I'll be watching for you after class." Her eyes lingered on his knee, then lifted to meet his gaze. "Don't push too hard, okay?"

Yuuto gave a small nod. "I won't."

She waved and hurried off, leaving Yuuto and Marcus alone.

"You know she likes you right?" said Marcus.

"Who kana? She doesn't a girl like her liking me nah"

"If you say so"

The gym doors loomed in front of them. While walking towards the gym they hear the sound of a ball bouncing.

Yuuto and Marcus exchanged a glance as the rhythmic thup… thup… thup echoed louder.

They pushed the heavy gym doors open.

On the far side of the court, a boy about their age was locked in rhythm. Black tights under shorts, red-and-white shoes squeaking lightly against the floor. His lean frame glistened with sweat, crimson braids swaying with every move.

Basketballs were scattered around him, the rack nearly empty. He grabbed another, bounced it twice, and rose in one fluid motion.

Snap swish!

The ball cut clean through the net, not even touching the rim.

Yuuto froze. Marcus let out a low whistle. "…He's been here a while."

The boy didn't look their way. He simply picked up the next ball, already setting up again focused, relentless, as if they weren't even there.

His posture shifted hips squared, knees bent, eyes razor-focused on the hoop.

Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

The sound echoed like a heartbeat in the cavernous gym.

Then, in a single fluid motion, he exploded upward. His crimson braids snapped through the air, his body rising higher than seemed possible. The release was clean wrist snapping with precision, fingers guiding the ball like an extension of his will.

Swish.

The ball ripped through the net without even grazing the rim.

The echo of the shot rang louder than any voice.

Marcus let out a low whistle, his usual cocky grin fading for once. "…Damn."

Yuuto stood frozen, heart pounding, eyes locked on the person.

The red-haired boy landed lightly, already turning to retrieve another ball, as if the shot had meant nothing. No celebration. No acknowledgment. Just ruthless repetition.

But for Yuuto, that one moment was enough. The message was clear.