Ace of the Bench

The morning after the first night of camp came alive with the hum of sneakers, the soft swish of nets, and the sound of voices rising with the sunrise. The gym was already bright sunlight cutting through the glass windows like molten gold and every breath in that space carried the same rhythm: focus.

Yuuto wiped sweat from his brow, his lungs burning, the familiar ache of competition pushing him forward. Conditioning drills were brutal. Coach Hikari wasn't holding back.

"Pick it up!" she shouted, her voice slicing through the noise. "You slow down now, you'll be crawling by evening!"

"Y-Yes, Coach!" a few players shouted back, voices ragged.

Marcus stumbled on the sideline, clutching his knees. "Yo, why does this feel like military training?"

"Because it basically is," Ren wheezed beside him.

Yuuto smirked, dribbling through cones. Every pivot cut through air, sharp and controlled. He could feel eyes on him the same way he always did when he pushed his limits. But this time… there was one gaze that burned a little different.

From the bleachers, Arisa watched quietly, clipboard in hand. Her dark hair shimmered in the sunlight spilling through the high windows, tied loosely behind her neck. She wasn't writing anything just watching. Observing. Measuring.

It was strange, Yuuto thought. The way her eyes moved. Calm, but sharp the same kind of focus her mother carried, yet softer. Lighter.

Coach blew her whistle. "Break! Ten minutes!"

The team collapsed like dominoes. Water bottles popped open, heavy breaths filled the air. Marcus fell flat on his back. "I swear Coach has no mercy."

Ren nodded, chugging water. "Bro, she was born without the word 'mercy.'"

A small laugh came from behind them. "That's because she thinks mercy slows you down."

They turned it was Arisa.

She walked closer, still holding her clipboard, a faint, teasing smile on her face. "You guys did good," she said, her tone casual. "But you're flinching too much when pressured."

Marcus blinked. "Flinching?"

Arisa tilted her head. "Yeah. The moment someone steps into your space, you lose control of your rhythm. You're reacting instead of dictating."

Ren looked confused. "Dictating?"

Yuuto, still sitting with his water bottle, watched her curiously. She didn't sound like she was mocking them more like she was explaining something she understood too well.

Arisa pointed toward the court. "The ball's your partner. Not your opponent. If you treat it like it's something you're chasing, you'll always be a step behind. But if you think of it as something that owes you…"

Yuuto looked up. "Owes you?"

She smiled, eyes narrowing with amusement. "Yeah. Control it don't chase it."

Her words lingered like a spark in the air.

Yuuto blinked, processing. Control it… don't chase it. He repeated the phrase in his head, over and over.

Arisa chuckled. "Exactly. I like you you actually listen."

Marcus almost choked on his water. "Wait, what? Nah, hold up"

Ren grinned, elbowing him. "Looks like Yuuto got himself a fan."

Yuuto raised an eyebrow, face slightly pink. "I I think she just meant"

"I meant what I said," Arisa interrupted, tone playful but sure. "Most guys I talk to in training just nod and ignore it. You actually thought about it. That's rare."

Her calm confidence threw everyone off. She said it like it was nothing, yet it felt heavy. Direct.

Coach Hikari's whistle snapped everyone back. "Enough talking! Next session Arisa, you're joining them."

The gym went silent.

"Wait, what?" Marcus said, eyes wide.

Coach smirked. "You think my daughter's here to sit and take notes? She's a player too. She's running drills with you all."

Arisa blinked in surprise. "I am?"

"You are," her mother said. "Show them what discipline looks like."

The boys exchanged glances. Murmurs rippled through the gym.

Marcus leaned toward Yuuto. "Bro… this about to get embarrassing."

Ren nodded. "Yeah, but like… in a hot way."

Yuuto sighed. "Focus, you clowns."

Arisa set her clipboard down, tied her hair into a higher ponytail, and stepped onto the court. Her sneakers squeaked as she moved light, precise, confident. She picked up a ball, spinning it effortlessly in her hand before dribbling. The rhythm was… different. Smooth, like she wasn't even trying.

The team lined up for defensive shadow drills. Coach Hikari crossed her arms. "Arisa, you'll lead."

"Got it," Arisa said simply.

Then she moved and the gym stopped.

Her first step cut through the court like lightning. Her dribble was tight, low, quick. Every crossover was sharp enough to slice sound. When she turned, her body flowed like water smooth yet lethal. The ball obeyed her completely.

Yuuto's eyes widened. Her control… it's insane.

Even Coach, arms folded, gave the faintest hint of approval. "Still got it," she muttered.

Marcus whispered under his breath, "Still got it? She moves like she was built in a lab."

Ren nodded slowly. "Bro, she's like… if Coach's bloodline had DLC."

"Eyes forward!" Coach barked.

The drill continued. Arisa rotated positions, pairing with different players. When she reached Yuuto's turn, a flicker of curiosity crossed her face.

"You ready?" she asked.

Yuuto nodded. "Always."

They squared off. The whistle blew.

Her first move was deceptive a quick jab left. Yuuto reacted instantly, cutting her off. But then the ball disappeared.

No bounce, no sound. She slipped right past him, the air between them slicing like wind.

His body turned, pivoting fast. But she was already behind him, laying the ball up effortlessly.

Coach's whistle echoed. "Score!"

Arisa grinned as she jogged back. "You react fast. But you flinched told you."

Yuuto exhaled. "Yeah, I felt it."

"Good," she said softly. "Next time, make me flinch."

He grinned. "Deal."

Their back-and-forth drew murmurs. Marcus groaned. "Bro… why she talking like they in an anime rivalry?"

Ren smirked. "'Cause it is."

The next round, Yuuto was sharper tighter footwork, cleaner spacing. Every fake from her, he read faster. Arisa noticed. Her grin widened slightly. The gym's atmosphere thickened like static before lightning.

By the third run, their movements synchronized predator and prey locked in rhythm. When Arisa broke right, Yuuto anticipated, stepping into her path and cutting her off perfectly.

The whistle blew. "Stop!"

Coach's voice carried pride and maybe a hint of satisfaction. "That's what I want. Adaptation."

Arisa looked at Yuuto, slightly out of breath. "You learn quick."

"Had a good teacher," he said.

She raised an eyebrow. "Flattery won't get you mercy."

"I wasn't asking for it."

For a second, their eyes met intensity layered with something else. Not romance. Not yet. But an understanding mutual respect wrapped in sparks.

By midday, the camp had turned into chaos.

The boys were half-dead, sprawled across the bleachers, while Arisa and Coach ran through tactical breakdowns on the whiteboard.

Coach pointed with her marker. "The Kings use a rotating zone on defense. Arisa show them the gap."

Arisa took the marker, drawing a few quick lines. Her handwriting was neat, her tone confident. "They bait you to overcommit," she said, tapping the screen. "So if you're playing point or swing, keep your spacing shallow. You draw the trap, then kick fast."

Marcus scratched his head. "You mean like… pretend to mess up?"

"Exactly," she said. "You act like prey then strike."

Ren blinked. "Why does that sound… kind of evil?"

Arisa grinned. "'Cause it is."

Even Coach chuckled faintly. "Told you she's my daughter."

The afternoon drills began with scrimmages. Coach divided teams, with Arisa playing on Yuuto's side. The gym buzzed again sneakers squeaking, shouts echoing, energy crackling.

Yuuto took the inbound, dribbling up the court. Arisa moved into position on the wing, her spacing perfect. Marcus guarded the paint, while Rei, another swingman, kept a close eye on her.

"Don't let her shoot," Rei muttered.

"Please," Marcus whispered. "I'm guarding Yuuto I already got my hands full."

The play began. Yuuto passed to Arisa smooth. She caught the ball effortlessly, pivoted, and snapped her wrist. The ball kissed the rim, spun once, and dropped in.

The gym erupted. Even Coach raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, she got range," Ren said.

"Understatement," Marcus replied. "She got satellite range."

Next play, Arisa cut behind Yuuto, calling low. "Back pass!"

He flicked it behind him without looking. She caught it mid-spin, stepping into a fadeaway jumper that swished clean.

Cheers echoed again. The boys looked at each other, half impressed, half terrified.

Yuuto chuckled under his breath. "You really don't miss."

Arisa shot him a sideways glance. "You learn fast. I shoot faster."

By evening, exhaustion had settled like fog. Everyone was drenched in sweat. The air smelled like adrenaline and rubber.

They gathered near the benches again for cooldown.

Marcus sat cross-legged, shaking his head. "Bro, she's built different."

Ren nodded. "Coach raised a monster."

Rei leaned back, arms crossed. "Nah, not just a monster a prodigy."

Yuuto stretched his shoulders, trying not to look at Arisa too much. Every now and then, their eyes met briefly not in a shy way, but in that unspoken you're good acknowledgment only players understood.

Arisa caught him staring once and smirked. "What's wrong? Still thinking about that crossover?"

He smiled. "You mean the one I almost blocked?"

"Almost doesn't count," she teased.

Marcus groaned. "I'm gonna be sick. This is basketball flirting."

Rei nodded. "Yup. Textbook example."

Coach clapped her hands, interrupting. "Alright, that's enough! Dinner, then showers. Good work today."

As everyone stood, Arisa nudged Yuuto's arm lightly. "Hey. Walk with me?"

Marcus's jaw dropped. "Oh, nah"

Ren whispered dramatically, "Rest in peace, my guy."

Yuuto hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded. "Sure."

They walked down the hallway toward the water station, the sound of distant laughter echoing behind them. The air between them felt different now quieter, softer.

Arisa spoke first. "You're interesting."

Yuuto blinked. "That supposed to be good or bad?"

"Good," she said, smiling faintly. "Most players either try to impress me or freeze up. You just… play."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Guess that's all I know how to do."

"That's what makes you dangerous," she replied. "You don't play for show you play to understand. That's rare."

He looked at her, unsure how to respond. "You talk like a coach."

Arisa chuckled. "Guess I picked it up from my mom. But she teaches through fear." She smirked. "I teach through pain."

Yuuto laughed. "That sounds worse."

"It is," she said simply. "But it works."

There was silence for a moment not awkward, but comfortable. Then she turned, stepping closer. "Tomorrow, I'll help you fix that flinch completely."

"You mean the one you keep mentioning?"

She nodded. "Yeah. You'll thank me when you stop hesitating in crunch time."

Yuuto smiled faintly. "Alright. Deal."

"Good." She started walking again, then looked back over her shoulder. "And Yuuto?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't fall for me."

He froze. "Wh...what?"

She winked. "Just kidding."

But her grin lingered a bit too long before she turned away, leaving him speechless.

Later that night, back in the gym, the lights were dimmed. The team lounged on their mats, exhausted. Marcus stared at the ceiling, whispering dramatically, "Bro, Yuuto's done for."

Ren laughed. "She literally said she likes his focus. That's like… stage one of every anime romance."

Rei grunted. "He better not lose focus, though. We still got the Kings coming."

Yuuto lay silently on his mat, staring at the ceiling. His chest rose and fell slowly. He could still feel her words echoing in his head.

"Control it don't chase it."

He closed his eyes. For the first time in a long while, training didn't just feel like work. It felt like discovery.

Outside, the moon hung low. The sound of the ocean breeze slipped through the cracked window. Somewhere nearby, Arisa was probably still awake sketching drills, thinking, planning.

A faint smile touched his lips.

Tomorrow would hurt. Tomorrow would test them.

But tonight… he felt something different. A sense of momentum. Of rivalry. Of connection.

Maybe that's what it meant to stand next to the daughter of a legend.