Ace of the Bench

The whistle cut through the gym, sharp and clean. Players jogged back to their benches, wiping sweat from their necks. Coach Matsuda raised two fingers. "Second half. Another five minutes. Run it hard."

Yuuto bounced on his toes, rolling his shoulders. The first half had been survival. This half had to be theirs.

Marcus clapped him on the back. "Let's flip the script."

"Yeah," Yuuto murmured, eyes fixed on Shun across the court. The red-haired ace was laughing with his squad, but every so often his gaze flicked over, sharp and measuring.

Tip-off again.

Daichi controlled it, swatting it back to Yuuto. White jerseys spread like wings, filling lanes. Yuuto pushed the ball up, scanning. Shun shaded toward Marcus, anticipating.

He faked right, zipped a pass to Sora at the corner. Pump fake, one dribble, floater. In. 14–13 white leads.

Their bench whooped. Marcus grinned. "That's how we start."

Shun's team inbounded fast. He caught it near midcourt, snaked around a screen, pulled up from the elbow. Swish. 15–14 blue.

Back and forth they went. Yuuto drove, kicked. Marcus hit a corner three. Shun answered with a reverse layup. Daichi hammered home a dunk off Yuuto's no-look pass. Kento buried a jumper off Shun's feed.

With each possession, the tempo climbed. The gym felt like it was shrinking, the sound of sneakers and ball thuds filling every inch.

Two minutes left. Score tied 20–20.

Coach Matsuda called out, "Push the pace! Decision-making under pressure!"

Yuuto's lungs burned. Sweat slicked his hair against his forehead. Marcus's chest heaved. But the passes were clicking now, each cut a knife edge.

White inbound. Yuuto crossed half court, saw Shun cheating high. He fired a bounce pass behind his back to Marcus streaking baseline. Reverse layup. 22–20.

"Let's go!" Marcus yelled.

Shun's expression hardened. He caught the next inbound, dribbled up slow, eyes locked on Yuuto. "Watch this."

He drove right, spun left, rose for a step-back three from well beyond the arc. Release—pure. Net barely moved. 23–22 blue.

Yuuto bit back a curse. "Stay up on him," he called.

Last minute. Coach blew his whistle. "Next basket wins. Make it count."

The gym went silent except for their breathing.

White ball. Yuuto brought it up. Marcus wiped his palms on his shorts. "Run the double screen," he muttered.

Yuuto nodded. Sora set the first pick, Daichi the second. Marcus curled around, caught the pass, rose for the midrange jumper.

Clang. Back iron.

Scramble for the rebound. Daichi tipped it back out to Yuuto. Five seconds left. Yuuto faked, drove baseline, drew Shun and Kento, flipped a pass to Marcus cutting middle. Marcus went up strong contact floater.

It hung in the air, spun… rolled off.

Shun snatched the rebound, took two dribbles, and hurled a baseball pass to Riku sprinting upcourt. Layup at the buzzer.

Whistle. Game.

24–22 blue.

The gym noise deflated into echoes. White jerseys bent over, hands on knees. Marcus stared at the floor, chest heaving. Yuuto stood frozen, sweat dripping from his chin.

Shun walked back, ball under his arm, smirk returning. "Good run," he said, voice calm but edged. "Closer than I thought."

Marcus forced a grin. "Enjoy the ice cream, man."

Shun tilted his head at Yuuto. "You're getting there. But not yet."

Yuuto met his gaze steadily. "Next time."

Shun's grin widened. "We'll see."

He jogged off with his team, laughter trailing behind them.

Marcus dropped onto the bench beside Yuuto. "We had 'em. Two shots rimmed out."

Yuuto wiped his face with a towel, frustration buzzing under his skin. "It's fine," he said quietly. "We saw where the gaps were."

Marcus elbowed him lightly. "Yeah, but it still sucks. Ice cream's on us."

Yuuto's mouth twitched into a faint smile. "Next time they're paying."

He looked at the hoop, the faint sway of the net. Even in the loss, he felt that flicker the small, bright sense of movement forward. The fire that had started in the empty gym with Ayaka was still burning, stronger now.

Coach Matsuda's voice cut across the court. "Good intensity. We'll run this again next week. White team you're closer than you think. Blue team don't get comfortable."

Yuuto's fists clenched around his towel. Closer than we think. He believed it. And the next time the buzzer sounded, he planned to be on the other side of the score.

Marcus bumped his shoulder. "C'mon. Let's go buy them ice cream before they pick the expensive flavors."

Yuuto snorted and followed him off the court, the sting of defeat still hot but the spark of resolve hotter.

Ice-cream shop

A little bell above the door jingled as Marcus pushed it open. The smell of sugar and vanilla wrapped around them. Outside the window, the sky was sliding from orange to deep purple, the day giving up its heat.

Yuuto stopped short just inside the door. At a corner booth sat Ayaka, her hair pulled back, a cheerleading hoodie draped over her shoulders. A cup of strawberry swirl melted slowly in front of her. She looked up and blinked.

Ayaka said with a smile "One point, huh? That's brutal."

"By one point. Painful. But ice cream's ice cream abd a deal is a deal." said Marcus

Yuuto scratching his neck "Yeah… can't complain."

Team Marcus bought team shun ice cream everyone left expect Marcus and Yuuto.

Marcus set his tray down with a clatter.

"Double chocolate, extra sprinkles," he announced. "Losing tastes better with sugar."

Ayaka raised an eyebrow over her strawberry swirl. "does it"

Marcus dug in, shaking his head. "We were right there. Last rotation slipped. That's on me."

Yuuto stirred his caramel drizzle without looking up. "It's on both of us."

Ayaka tilted her head at him. "I caught a glimpse through the door before you guys finished. You guys played well."

Yuuto blinked at her, startled. "You… saw that?"

"Mm-hmm." She smiled, soft but teasing. "You were tired, but your passes—sharp. Most guys would've forced shots. You didn't."

Marcus pointed his spoon at Yuuto. "Exactly. Did you see that bounce pass through the trap? I thought the ball was gone."

Ayaka laughed. "Sounds like you're his hype man."

"I'm his teammate," Marcus said. "Big difference."

Yuuto ducked his head, ears warm. "I still blew the last drive."

"You'll get another one," Ayaka said simply. "That's the point of a scrimmage, right?"

For a moment none of them spoke. The shop smelled of sugar and warm waffle cones; their spoons clicked quietly against paper cups.

The night air wrapped around them as they stepped out. Streetlights threw puddles of gold on the sidewalk. Marcus strolled a few steps ahead, humming under his breath, hands stuffed in his pockets.