Ace of the Bench

The cool night air wrapped around them as they stepped out of the gym, a soft sigh of wind pushing at the stray hairs on Ayaka's forehead and cooling the sweat still clinging to Yuuto's arms. The big double doors swung shut behind them with a hollow clang, sealing in the smell of varnish and rubber and leaving only the scent of damp asphalt and autumn leaves. Streetlamps threw long gold bars across the pavement, turning their shadows into thin, stretched silhouettes. Their footsteps echoed in time.

For a few strides neither of them spoke. Yuuto kept his eyes on the sidewalk, gym bag slung across his back, heart still hammering from the marathon shooting session. He wasn't used to anyone seeing him like that exhausted, grinding, vulnerable. The glow of the system notification still burned in his mind like neon: Your strength is your weakness now. Make your weakness your strength.

Ayaka broke the silence first.

"You know," she said, tilting her head at him, "most people don't look like they've just gone through a rainstorm when they leave practice."

Yuuto gave a small, self-conscious laugh. "Guess I overdid it."

"That's not overdoing it." She eyed him with mock incredulity. "That's borderline insane." She bumped her shoulder lightly into his. "One hundred shots?"

He tried to shrug it off. "It's a system thing. Kind of like a personal goal. I have to make up for lost time."

Her brows knit a little. "Lost time?"

He slowed for a beat. "When you're off the court as long as I was… you start to feel like the game's moving without you. Like you're watching through glass. So I'm trying to break it."

She nodded slowly, eyes soft. "I get it. In my squad, if you're out for a month you're practically a stranger when you come back. Multiply that by a year…" She gave a small whistle. "That's heavy."

Yuuto chuckled without humor. "Yeah. Heavy."

They reached an intersection; the red glow of the crossing signal painted their faces. Ayaka glanced at him again. "But you're back. I saw it tonight. You were tired but you kept your form. You didn't cheat the reps. That's rare."

Yuuto rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Thanks… I guess."

"Don't be so shy." She grinned. "I wouldn't have stayed if it was boring."

He blinked. "Wait, you stayed the whole time?"

"Until I fell asleep." She laughed at herself. "I must've looked ridiculous."

"You didn't." The words came out before he could stop them. "It was… nice, actually. Made the gym feel less empty."

Ayaka looked at him from the corner of her eye. "So I was moral support?"

"Maybe," he admitted, smiling faintly.

"Even though you didn't know I was there?" she teased.

"Yes."

They turned down a narrower street lined with trees. The night smelled of damp leaves and distant cooking oil from some late-night kitchen. Their houses weren't far now. Yuuto could feel his legs aching, but walking next to her made the ache fade a little.

"You know," Ayaka said, voice playful, "even though we live walking distance from each other we never once go home together. Isn't that weird?"

Yuuto laughed quietly. "Not really."

"Mm." She pretended to think. "Well, since we live so close, does that mean you'll walk me home after late practices?"

He glanced at her, startled by how easily she'd said it. "If you want me to."

"I do." She flashed him a grin. "Can't have the future ace letting me get jumped by stray cats."

He snorted. "Stray cats?"

"Hey, they're vicious around here." She bumped him again, and this time he bumped back, the playful gesture loosening something in his chest. For the first time all day, the sting of Shun's victory felt less sharp.

A few houses later they reached her street. She slowed, turning toward a small gate lit by a porch light. The glow turned her hair into threads of bronze.

"This is me," she said, pausing. "Thanks for walking me. Even after killing yourself in the gym."

"No problem," Yuuto said, voice a little rough. "It was… nice."

Ayaka smiled at him, softer now. "Get some rest, okay? You'll need it. School starts early."

He nodded. "Yeah. Night, Ayaka."

"Night, Yuuto." She hesitated a moment, then added, "And… don't let anyone make you feel invisible. Not when you work like that."

Before he could answer she slipped through the gate, the latch clicking behind her. Yuuto stood there a second longer, the echo of her words lingering in the cool air.

Then he turned toward his own street, exhaustion weighing on his muscles but something new flickering in his chest—a quiet, steady fire, and the memory of a girl who had stayed to watch him shoot.

He exhaled, a long breath that let some of the day leak out of his body. The street was quiet now just the hum of a distant scooter and the flicker of a moth circling a lamp. He shifted his bag on his shoulder and headed toward his own street, muscles heavy but chest strangely light.

The closer he got to his house the darker it became. Porch lights here were dim, and the only sound was the crunch of gravel under his sneakers. He fished his key from his pocket, the metal cool against his still-warm palm, and unlocked the door quietly so as not to wake his parents.

Inside, the house smelled faintly of fabric softener and the curry his mother must have made earlier. He set his bag down by the entryway and toed off his shoes. The hallway was dim, moonlight spilling through the curtains.

In his room Yuuto dropped onto his bed without turning on the light. His muscles screamed; his hands ached from the endless repetitions. He stared at the ceiling fan turning lazily above him, replaying the day: Shun's smirk after every made basket, the coach's speech about the tournament, Ayaka's smile under the streetlight.

The system notification blinked faintly in his mind's eye, the words burned there like a challenge: Your strength is your weakness now. Make your weakness your strength.

A soft noise from the kitchen his father moving around, probably making tea reminded him how late it had gotten. He rolled to his side, pulling a towel over his head, and allowed his eyes to close.

For the first time since the injury, his exhaustion wasn't just pain; it was progress. Outside, the wind rattled the leaves, carrying away the last of the gym's echoes. Tomorrow would be school. Tomorrow Shun would still be the ace. But tonight, under his own roof, Yuuto felt the spark of a comeback.