Ace of the Bench

The gym smelled like varnished wood and sweat the scent of long practices and battles fought on hardwood. Yuuto paused just outside the double doors, his hand hovering on the handle.

It had been months since he last walked into the basketball club as one of them. Back then, he'd been the starting guard, the future ace. Now? He wasn't sure what he was walking into.

Behind him, Marcus shifted impatiently. "Bro, you gonna stand there all day, or you gonna walk in like you own the place?"

Yuuto exhaled through his nose, rolled his shoulders, and pushed the doors open.

The sharp squeak of sneakers on the floor met him, along with the rhythmic thump of a ball being dribbled. The team was already running warm-ups suicides across the court, passes zipping through the air, sneakers slamming on hardwood.

Heads turned almost instantly.

Conversations dropped. The ball rolled to a stop in the middle of the floor.

Yuuto stood there, back straight, his bag slung over one shoulder. Marcus swaggered in beside him like nothing was unusual.

"Yo," Marcus called out with a grin, "look who's back from the dead."

The responses came quick, layered with different tones.

A couple of upperclassmen gave nods, relief plain in their eyes. "Good to see you moving again, Kai."

Others were more cautious. A sophomore muttered under his breath, "Didn't think he'd come back…"

One boy near the baseline narrow-eyed, arms crossed snorted. "Figures. Just when Shun's been putting in work."

That last comment stung, though Yuuto didn't show it. He just walked further inside, setting his bag down by the wall. The whispers rippled through the group.

"Is he even cleared?"

"Can he even run?"

"Coach better not waste time Shun's the ace now."

Yuuto's jaw tightened. Every word was a knife, but he forced himself to swallow it. He wasn't here to talk. He was here to prove.

Coach Nakamura, a tall man with a broad frame and a whistle always hanging from his neck, stepped forward. His presence alone cut the chatter in half.

His eyes locked on Yuuto steady, unreadable.

"So," Coach said simply, "you're back."

Yuuto bowed slightly. "Yes, Coach. The doctor cleared me."

Coach studied him, scanning from his posture to his knees to the quiet fire in his eyes. "Cleared… but that doesn't mean you're the same player you were. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Coach," Yuuto said firmly. "I'm not asking for anything. I just want to earn my spot again."

A flicker passed through Coach's eyes approval? Skepticism? Maybe both. He gave a curt nod. "Good. You'll start at the bottom. Conditioning, drills, everything. If you can't keep up, you don't belong on this floor. Understood?"

"Understood."

Marcus clapped Yuuto's shoulder from behind. "Don't worry, Coach. He's been grinding. You'll see."

On the far end of the court, Shunjin James Shun leaned casually against the wall, a ball under his arm. His red braids swayed slightly as he tilted his head, smirk firmly in place.

"Well, well," Shun drawled loud enough for everyone to hear, "the prodigal son returns."

A few teammates chuckled nervously.

Yuuto met his gaze across the court. His heart clenched, but he forced his face to stay neutral.

Shun tossed the ball up, caught it smoothly, and began dribbling with casual confidence. "Don't take this the wrong way, Kai, but… you should've stayed in rehab. The team's moved on."

The air tensed.

Marcus barked back, "Shut up, Shun. You sound scared he's back."

Shun raised an eyebrow but said nothing, just spinning the ball once more before rolling it to the side.

Yuuto didn't answer him either. Not yet. Words meant nothing until the court spoke.

"Line up," Coach barked.

The team formed two lines at half-court, preparing for passing-and-running drills. Yuuto slipped into place quietly, Marcus right behind him.

The drill started simple: sprint, receive the pass, dish it off, sprint again. But for Yuuto, every step mattered. His knee twinged faintly, not from pain but from memory. The ghost of his injury haunted each stride.

"Faster, Kai!" one teammate snapped after Yuuto caught and passed a step late.

Yuuto gritted his teeth and picked up the pace. Sweat formed on his brow, his lungs burning, but he refused to falter. By the third round, his timing sharpened. By the fourth, he was back in rhythm.

Marcus slapped him on the back. "That's what I'm talking about, bro!"

Not everyone looked impressed, though. Shun jogged past him with effortless speed, his passes crisp, his movements clean. The contrast was obvious.

Next came shooting drills.

The coach barked, "Corners! Ten makes each. Go!"

Yuuto caught a ball at the wing. He dribbled once, squared up, and shot. The release felt good, but the ball rimmed out.

"Too flat," someone muttered.

Yuuto took a breath, adjusted his form, and tried again. Swish. The sound rang sweeter than any compliment. He strung together three more, finding a rhythm.

But on the far side, Shun was already draining shots effortlessly, his form smooth, his confidence unshakable. Each swish echoed like a reminder: he's the ace now.

Marcus shouted from the line, "C'mon, Yuuto! That's four give me six in a row!"

Yuuto grinned faintly, fueled by the challenge. He fired again. Swish. Then another. Swish.

"Seven!" Marcus yelled, pumping his fist.

Some of the team glanced over, expressions shifting from skepticism to mild surprise.

The locker room buzzed with chatter, the kind of restless energy that always followed the end of practice. Sneakers squeaked against tile, the faint smell of sweat and detergent clinging to the air. Yuuto sat quietly at the far end of the bench, his gym bag at his feet, listening.

It had been months since he last sat in this room. The walls hadn't changed the same scuffed lockers, the same motivational posters hanging crookedly on the walls but the atmosphere had. Back then, when he entered, heads turned to him. Conversations paused. Respect, even awe, trailed his every step.

Now, he was just another player.

"Man, Shun was on fire again today," one teammate laughed, slamming his locker shut.

"Yeah, dude can't miss," another agreed.

"No wonder Coach is letting him run the offense. He's got that ace aura."

Yuuto's jaw tightened. He tugged on his warm-up jacket, forcing his hands to stay still. He wasn't used to being background noise.

Marcus noticed and nudged him with an elbow. "Ignore them, Kai. You're back now. That's what matters."

Yuuto gave him a faint smile but said nothing. Deep down, Marcus's words didn't ease the sting.

Just then, the heavy metal door creaked open. The chatter died instantly as Coach Sakamoto stepped in. His presence filled the room not because he was loud, but because he didn't need to be. His sharp eyes scanned the team before he spoke.

"You all did well today," Coach said, his gravelly voice carrying across the room. "I've seen effort, and I've seen improvement. That's a good sign. But…" He paused, setting his clipboard down on the bench in front of him. "Good isn't enough. Not anymore."

The players straightened, their earlier laughter gone.

"We've got exactly three weeks until October 5th," Coach continued. "That's the start of the high school basketball tournament. The games where every second counts. The games that decide who you are as a player, and who we are as a team."

The weight of his words pressed on the room. Even Yuuto, who had sat through countless speeches in the past, felt his pulse quicken.

"From tomorrow, training gets harder. More drills. New routines. I have a few methods in mind that will push you past your limits. You'll hate me for it, but you'll thank me when the whistle blows."

Some players exchanged uneasy glances. Others looked eager.

Coach let the silence sit before he added, "And one week before the tournament, we'll hold a scrimmage game. Not just to see where you stand but to decide who deserves to step on the court when it matters."

That statement hit like a thunderclap. Every player in the locker room stiffened. A scrimmage meant positions weren't guaranteed.

Yuuto's heart thudded. This was his chance, the opening he needed.

Coach picked up his clipboard, heading for the door. But before leaving, he glanced once more around the room. His eyes lingered on Yuuto for half a second measuring, weighing before moving on.

The door shut behind him.

The silence broke almost instantly. Teammates muttered to each other, some already buzzing about training, others worrying about the scrimmage. Shun leaned back on the bench with a smirk, as if the announcement only confirmed what he already knew that the ace spot was his.

Yuuto exhaled slowly. Relief, tension, and determination tangled inside him. For the first time since stepping back into the gym, he felt something real ignite again.

The scrimmage would be his battlefield.

And this time, he refused to fade into the background.