Fifteen minutes after Ming You had relayed all the information about the players to Tae-Hwan, the basketball court, illuminated by the bright light of the lamps, was filled with an atmosphere of triumph and anger.
Lu Shen stood at the center of the court, grinning widely. His teammates exchanged triumphant looks, while their opponents, Mei Yu's team, looked furious and deceived.
"Got anything to say now, you fools!" Lu Shen shouted triumphantly, pointing his finger at Mei Yu and his guys.
"If we'd known about such rules, we wouldn't have let you score a single basket!"
"Rules are rules," Lu Shen shrugged in response to Mei Yu. "If you didn't know, that's your problem."
"Screw them, then," So Ho cut in, turning sharply to his team. "We're not going to pay some made-up debts just because some assholes say so. Guys, let's go. Consider this game never happened."
"Exactly! No one told us about such rules, and we're not going to fall for such a cheap trick!" shouted Jen Ryu, raising his middle finger towards Yoshido's team.
But just as the newcomers were moving as a group to leave the circle of light from the lamps, fifteen figures stepped out of the darkness. Leather jackets, bats, brass knuckles, cold stares—it all merged into a single picture of threat. They moved slowly, confidently, as if they knew there would be no resistance.
A muscular man with a bat resting on his shoulders stepped forward. His voice was low, but every word hit its mark:
"Hey, you little shits, where do you think you're going? The losers owe us money."
So Ho, without a second thought, stepped forward to meet them. His fists clenched, but he didn't lower his gaze.
"What's it to you? If you don't let us pass, we'll call the police, and they'll shut this whole place down!"
Silence.
And then—an explosion of laughter. The thugs literally doubled over, some even wiping tears from their eyes, as if they had heard the funniest joke of their lives. The newcomers exchanged glances; their looks held both confusion and growing contempt.
One of the thugs, with brass knuckles on his fingers, was the last to stop laughing. He wiped the corner of his eye with his fist and, still smirking, said:
"Ha-ha, you're quite the bold one, So Ho. But your mother, who works as a nurse and lives six blocks from here, won't be too happy if you refuse to pay the debts on a whim and dump all this on her."
So Ho paled. His breathing quickened, and his eyes widened.
"How do you…"
The bat was suddenly under his chin, forcing his head back.
"That's none of your fucking business."
The thug slowly lowered his weapon, but his gaze slid over each of the newcomers.
"But you, the rest of you little shits…" he paused, letting the words sink in deeper, "we know a lot about you, too. So either you keep playing, or you can dump all the debts on your relatives."
Silence hung in the air again, but now it was oppressive. The newcomers gritted their teeth, their fingers involuntarily clenching into fists. So Ho was the first to break the silence. His voice trembled, but there was determination in it:
"Fine, we'll play. Just don't touch our families! This is a personal matter between our teams and nothing more."
The corners of the thugs' lips curled upwards.
"That's the attitude we like a lot more."
The weapons were lowered, the brass knuckles disappeared into pockets. But the threat didn't go away—it just lurked, like a snake poised to strike. One of the thugs, the tallest one, chuckled loudly:
"Alright, you little suck-offs. Fine, you can go and get ready for the games. But if you decide not to show up… we will find you. And even if by some miracle we don't…" his voice became sweet, like poison, "We always know where your parents are. Heh-heh."
The newcomers silently lowered their heads and walked past. Their shoulders were tense, and their steps were heavy.
When they emerged onto the lit street, Jen Ryu was the first to break the oppressive silence:
"We'll have to prepare to play for real now. And not let them make shots. We could also use some work on our passes."
"Then we need to train harder," nodded Mei Yu, trying to sound confident.
So Ho turned sharply to face them. His eyes were burning. He clenched his fist and raised it high:
"Yes! Forward, the real Yoshido!"
Their voices merged into one. Once. Twice. Three times.
"Forward, the real Yoshido!"
…
The next morning.
The school hallways were gradually emptying—classes were over, and most students were rushing home or to extracurricular activities. However, for So Ho, Jen Ryu, and Mei Yu, the day wasn't over yet.
They walked down the long corridor leading to the school gym, where they usually gathered before practice. The walls around them were bare, but the trio barely paid them any attention. Their thoughts were occupied by one thing—the next game.
"Maybe we should first find out who we'll be playing against?" asked Mei Yu, putting his hands behind his head.
Jen Ryu, walking beside him, turned to him sharply. He furrowed his brows in a displeased grimace, saying with a certain anxiety:
"Do you really think that sly motherfucker will tell us anything?"
So Ho, unlike his friend, remained calm. He narrowed his eyes slightly before answering:
"It's worth the risk. Better to at least hope for a chance to find out who we'll be facing."
The three guys, gritting their teeth in rage, strode through the school gym, their faces twisted with hatred for the team's founders. They walked quickly, purposefully, ignoring those around them. Their footsteps echoed loudly across the basketball court as they crossed it, not even glancing at the markings beneath their feet.
Reaching the locker room, So Ho shoved the door open, and it swung wide with a bang. Inside, by the far bench, sat Ming You—his head was tilted back, as if he was studying something on the ceiling or simply trying to detach himself from what was happening.
"Ming You," So Ho called out to him.
Slowly, with exaggerated leisure, Ming You lowered his head and stared at the newcomers. His lips stretched into a sarcastic smirk.
"Hi-hi, friends, how are you doing? How's the weather today? Did you get here alright?"
Veins bulged on the newcomers' foreheads, and their fingers involuntarily clenched into fists. But So Ho, gritting his teeth, was the first to get a hold of himself. He took a step forward, trying to speak calmly, though anger still smoldered in his eyes.
"We have a question for you." He paused to make sure Ming You was actually listening. "Who are we playing against in the next game?"
"Good of you to ask." He deliberately drew out his words, savoring the tension in the air. "You'll be playing against Jung Ho, our former team captain."
"Well, thanks, Ming You," So Ho said through gritted teeth, sarcasm dripping from his voice once more.
Without waiting for further comments, he turned sharply and left, slamming the door. The other newcomers threw final angry glances at Ming You and followed their leader.
Ming You watched them go with his eyes, then leaned back relaxedly, tilting his head back again.
"You're always welcome!" he playfully shouted after them, continuing his 'nap'.
A few hours later, as the sun was already setting towards the horizon, painting the sky in warm orange hues, Ming You finally gathered his things. He zipped up his backpack, took one last look at the emptying gym, and left the locker room. The school corridors were almost deserted, only the echo of his footsteps breaking the silence.
Leaving the school building, he headed towards a familiar streetball court where the lights were already turning on, casting sharp shadows on the asphalt. The court was empty—no players, no spectators, only a light evening breeze rustling the net on the hoop. However, a group of people was visible on a far bench. In the center, lounging sprawled out, sat Taek Jung, surrounded by his guys.
Ming You approached them without hesitation, his face lit up by a fake, yet professionally executed, sly grin.
"Hi-hi," he said, waving his hand amiably. "I have an interesting proposition for you."
"Heh heh, we're all ears," chuckled Taek Jung.
Ming You paused, as if letting them soak in the moment, then continued:
"How about we place some bets on tomorrow's game?"
Silence. Even the wind seemed to die down. Taek Jung's guys exchanged glances, and he himself laughed, rubbing his chin.
"Ha! You really are no stranger to taking risks. So, go on, lay it out."
Ming You stretched his already unnatural smile even wider.
"If the captain's points—that is, one player's points—are a hundred times greater than the points of the five players, I win a hundred times more money than I bet on that one player. But if it's even one point less, then I will pay you a hundred times the amount you bet on the five players."
"Alright, now explain what trick you're planning, that you're so confidently making a pretty big bet like this," Taek Jung expressed his doubt, but Ming You just shrugged innocently.
"Nothing much, I just like to take risks."
"If I didn't know you, I might have fallen for that," Taek Jung leaned forward, his voice grew quieter but only more dangerous because of it. "But considering how cunning and shameless you are, I have two theories: either you're clearly up to no good, or you're just a raving lunatic. There can't be any other options."
"You can think whatever you want, but the fact is, I'm completely confident in my player's strength and my gambler's instinct. So, are we making the bet or are you scared of a regular schoolkid?"
Taek Jung froze for a second, then laughed loudly. His lackeys immediately joined in, and the court was filled with rough laughter.
"Ha-ha, you, a regular schoolkid?" Taek Jung wiped tears from his eyes, but his gaze remained cold. When the laughter died down, he continued: "The bet is pretty good, and I like risks too. But mark my words: if you can't pay the hundredfold amount we bet, death will seem like a mere comfort to you."
"So, we have a deal?" Ming You smirked, extending his hand.
Taek Jung looked at his palm, then slowly squeezed it in his own, as if testing its strength.
"I'd advise you to line up a few jobs to be ready to pay our hundredfold stake."