Ace of the Bench

The gym was a storm of sound. Sneakers squeaked, balls bounced in rapid succession, and the shrill whistles of referees cut through the chaos like sharp knives. The scoreboard flickered under the bright lights, reflecting the numbers that seemed impossibly close yet infinitely distant.

Yuuto's chest heaved, sweat trickling down his temple. His eyes flicked across the court, scanning, calculating. Every muscle in his legs remembered the rhythm of the game: the push of the floor, the pivot, the split-second decision to pass or drive.

Seiryō had clawed back a little since Yuuto had stepped onto the court as point guard. Marcus had shifted to shooting guard, adjusting his long strides to the tighter spaces near the perimeter, and Shunjin James, wiry and fast, darted around the paint like a needle threading through the fabric of the opposing defense.

But the rookies weren't just holding their own they were pushing. Sharp passes, quick footwork, crisp jumpshots, and disciplined positioning. Each of them moved like they had a sixth sense for the court.

A sudden steal: one of Shikoku's rookies intercepted Marcus's pass intended for Shunjin, pivoted, and shot from the elbow. The ball arced perfectly, hitting nothing but net.

"Swish!" came the cheer from the far bleachers, the crowd erupting.

Marcus's jaw tightened. He motioned for a timeout, clapping his hands. "Focus! Watch their small forward he's cutting early!"

He tried to switch to a tighter man-to-man defense, shadowing the rookie's movements. But the rookies' spacing was exquisite; they found seams and gaps, feeding each other the ball like clockwork. Another quick layup followed by a step-back three before Seiryō could adjust, the scoreboard flipped again.

Yuuto's fingers grazed the ball as it bounced toward him. He dribbled, a subtle rhythm, slower than his usual pace, his knee still cautious, each step calculated. The shortest and tallest players from Shikoku converged, trying to trap him, cutting off passing lanes.

He felt the pressure but didn't panic. His eyes narrowed. His Technique flickered a small green shimmer of focus in his mind's eye. Not perfect, not complete, but enough to give him a moment's edge. A feint, a quick shift in weight, a micro-step to the left and he was through, the defenders split, even if just barely.

Shunjin shouted, "Pass it! Pass it!"

Yuuto's hands moved almost automatically, sending the ball to Shunjin at the three-point line. Shunjin faked a shot, drew a defender, then slashed into the paint, finishing with a swift reverse layup.

The crowd roared. Marcus pounded his chest in encouragement, but his eyes betrayed the weight of leadership. "Keep it together! Stay sharp!"

The referees' whistles punctuated the chaos, but the flow of the game didn't stop. Yuuto hustled back on defense, trying to shadow the opponents' small forward. He wasn't as fast as before the injury, but he compensated with anticipation, reading body language, and subtle cues. He forced a bad pass, tipping the ball just enough for Kento to recover. Another basket for Seiryō.

Marcus caught his breath on the sidelines, wiping sweat from his brow. "This is it… we need to hold them for a few more minutes."

But the rookies weren't letting up. They executed crisp pick-and-rolls, switched screens flawlessly, and even when Marcus tried to press, they countered with short passes and sudden drives to the hoop. A fast-break sequence saw the ball passed across three players before a layup from the smallest rookie, Akira Hoshino, found the bottom of the net.

"C'mon! That's not a rookie play!" Marcus muttered under his breath, frustration and awe mixing.

Yuuto inhaled sharply, eyes scanning the floor. Each movement felt like a chess match. He spotted a mismatch: the rookie power forward had overcommitted, leaving a narrow lane to the basket. He dribbled cautiously, then accelerated slightly, threading the ball to Shunjin, who spun, dunked, and drew a foul. The gym erupted.

Coach Takeda muttered from the sideline, "Technique… don't forget your Technique, Marcus."

Marcus's eyes darted to Yuuto, then to the opposing team. He realized the rookies weren't just fast they were smart. Disciplined. They anticipated their every move, countering the captain's adjustments with precision.

The scoreboard ticked relentlessly, reflecting the ebb and flow of the third quarter. Seiryō had opened strong, leading early, but now the lead was evaporating. A 14-6 start had turned into a precarious tie. Then Shikoku's rookies made their move: crisp passes, a series of sharp jumpers, and suddenly, they were ahead by double digits.

A whistle blared. Timeout. The players collapsed on the benches, towels pressed to their faces, chests heaving. Marcus wiped his brow, scanning the court. "We're letting them dictate the pace. That's on me."

Coach Shimizu crouched beside him. "Relax. Analyze. Adjust. You'll find the opening."

Yuuto sat quietly, catching his breath. His fingers itched for the ball. The system inside him prompted, Analyze. Predict. Execute. But the injury held him back, reminding him of his limits.

Across the court, the other coach waved, congratulating his team. "Good. Keep it sharp! But don't get complacent. You should've had more points by now!"

Shikoku's rookies muttered agreements, their faces serious, though small beads of sweat ran down their cheeks. They were young, but they played like veterans.

And then the air shifted. A ripple passed through the gym. Students, teachers, and even players turned their heads as a presence entered. Green energy subtle, powerful radiated from the man sitting at the edge of the bench. The King of the Court.

Inside, his mind burned with a familiar fire. Yuuto. That name echoed in his memory. A spark of anticipation, of challenge, flared. He had seen glimpses quick passes, subtle movements, flashes of Technique but now he wanted more. Wanted to test. Wanted to play.

Back on the court, Yuuto returned to his position. Seiryō huddled briefly, sweat dripping, muscles burning. "We can't let them run away," Marcus muttered, adjusting his armband, slipping his jersey slightly to the side for comfort. "Focus. Play smart."

Shinjun wiped his forehead, glancing at Yuuto. "You ready for this?"

Yuuto's fingers wrapped around the ball, bouncing it carefully, feeling the rhythm return. He nodded once, sharply. "Let's go."

The fourth quarter loomed, tension thickening the air. The scoreboard reflected the relentless pace: back-and-forth, see-sawing, neither side yielding. Squeaks of sneakers, rhythmic dribbling, swishes of net all blending into a symphony of competition.

Every pass, every feint, every move mattered. The rookies countered, the MC team pushed, Marcus shouted commands, Yuuto orchestrated from the floor.

The King of the Court remained on the bench, green aura flickering, eyes locked on Yuuto. Fire burned in him, anticipation rising. This was the moment. Soon, he would test the young point guard and the game itself would shift forever.

The buzzer signaled the end of the third quarter. Players collapsed onto benches, the crowd murmuring, teachers glancing at the scoreboard, their faces tense.

Seiryō 74–86 Shikoku

The players collapsed onto their benches, towels pressed to sweaty faces, lungs burning. The gym still hummed with echoes of sneakers and bouncing balls.

Marcus leaned forward, elbows on his knees, armband tugged slightly to the side. "We're letting them dictate the pace," he muttered, voice low but tight. "That's on me. I… I can't let this keep happening."

Across the court, Shikoku's rookies huddled tightly. Akira Hoshino dribbled a ball lightly against his knee. "We can't let them read us. Don't overcommit on the drive," he said, voice low, precise. "Yuuto's cautious now. He won't force a play, but he'll test gaps. Watch the passing lanes."

Coach Shimizu crouched beside Marcus. "Relax. Analyze. Adjust. You're looking at this as if you need to force a solution. Watch their tendencies, read their spacing. That's where the opening is."

The rookie power forward leaned forward slightly, eyes scanning. "Pick-and-roll is working for them when the lane opens. Switch faster, rotate weak-side help, force a bad shot."

Yuuto wiped sweat from his brow, trying not to let his knee throb too much. "We can exploit the small forward's overcommit. He's leaving lanes. You saw it when I threaded that pass to Shunjin."

Akira exhaled slowly. "It's not about being perfect it's about being consistent. Maintain discipline, they'll start making mistakes out of frustration."

Marcus nodded slowly, eyes flicking to the rookies' bench. "Yeah… but they're disciplined. They cover each other quickly. You can't just muscle through."

Another rookie muttered, "Trust the spacing. Trust the rotation. Don't panic, even if they score. Stick to the system."

Shunjin, crouched beside Yuuto, cracked a grin. "They're smart, but they're still rookies. One good fake, one read on their rhythm, and we can force a turnover. Trust me, I've seen it happen."

Coach Shikoku's eyes, sharp and green, scanned the MC team. "Eyes on Yuuto. He dictates their tempo. Force him to make the first mistake. Rotate, switch, communicate like we drilled. Keep calm. Don't give them energy."

Kento leaned back, towel draped over his shoulders. "Their spacing's precise, yeah, but Marcus and Yuuto's plays are pulling their defense a little wide. Time a pick right, create a mismatch."

Akira added, "Next quarter, we don't chase hero plays. We control space. Control the clock. Let them play into our rhythm."

Marcus exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Alright… focus on forcing the mismatch. Yuuto, you handle the point. Don't overpush. Let the game flow through you, see the gaps, then strike."

Yuuto nodded, heart hammering. "Got it. I'll read them, predict their next move, and" He hesitated, swallowing hard. "…and take it carefully. No hero plays."

Shunjin nudged Marcus lightly. "You're not alone, man. We're in this together. Everyone's counting on the playmakers to read the floor but we've got your back."

The rookies rose together, towels discarded, sneakers squeaking lightly as they returned to the court. Calm. Confident. Dangerous in their discipline.

Marcus straightened, voice firm. "We go in, execute cleanly. One basket at a time. Defense tight, pick your moments. Yuuto… watch the small forward. He's dangerous if we let him dictate."

Yuuto gripped the ball, bouncing it carefully, then nodded sharply. "I see him. I'll be ready."

The gym seemed to hold its breath as both teams stepped back onto the hardwood. The tension was electric Seiryō's team fueled by urgency and leadership, Shikoku's rookies sharpened by discipline and focus.

Every glance, every movement, every breath mattered. The fourth quarter was about to begin.