The ball pierced the net, and Haru Lin felt something icy and heavy tighten beneath his heart:
"What is this strange confidence?"
"Great start, guys!" shouted So Ho, but his gesture — clenched fists raised high — seemed more like fierce self-affirmation than celebration. He wasn't looking at his teammates, but through Haru Lin, straight at the seated Ming You. He said mentally:
"See? Your numbers are just numbers. This is a game."
The ball was in Haru Lin's hands, but his sense of control dissolved like smoke. He could hear his own heartbeat, but now it carried not just adrenaline, but also a thin, cold trickle of doubt. He glanced at his three opponents. They weren't just standing in positions — they formed a living, breathing structure. Their stances were collected, their gazes sharp and empty of superfluous emotion.
"Their confidence… is quite strange," Haru whispered to himself, gathering his strength.
He made a dash, trying to break through the center, but Jen Ryu and Mei Yu closed in front of him like steel gates, not even trying to steal the ball, just cutting off the space. So Ho covered from behind, his eyes scanning every movement.
Pushed back to the perimeter, Haru Lin found himself behind the three-point line again. He brought his arm up for the shot. But this time, Jen Ryu didn't just jump. He soared with such speed, as if he knew the trajectory even before the ball left Haru's fingers. His long arm, stretched taut, shot straight to the calculated point.
Thwack!
"Not so fast, you bastard's errand boy!" Jen Ryu growled right in Haru Lin's face as his palm slapped the ball dead against its path.
The block was so clean and powerful that it sent the ball not just sideways, but diagonally across the entire court, as if wiping away the very possibility of a shot. The sound of the ball hitting the asphalt in the silence was deafening. Haru Lin, still in his shooting motion, felt an unpleasant, almost physical tremor run down his now-empty arm — an echo of that crushing block.
"You're too arrogant! Thought your little numbers would cover for you?" Jen Ryu shouted, landing and already turning, his voice full of not just schadenfreude, but icy contempt. "Mei Yu!"
The ball, having bounced far, was caught on the fly by Mei Yu, who seemed to have been waiting for just that. He didn't even look at the ball; his gaze was already on So Ho, who was already streaking downcourt in a fast break. With one touch, Mei Yu sent the ball forward with a long, spiraling pass.
Haru Lin stood in place, looking at his empty palms, feeling a burning numbness in his wrist from that block.
"Just need one shot. Just one," he whispered through gritted teeth.
The ball was at his feet again after the inbound. The opponent wasn't waiting anymore. They pressed, but not chaotically — So Ho stepped forward slightly, cutting off the direct path to the basket, Jen Ryu and Mei Yu held the flanks, ready to close in at any moment.
Haru Lin darted right, trying to create space for his shot. Mei Yu immediately took a step towards him, forcing him to change direction. Suddenly, Jen Ryu rose up like a wall in front of him. Haru, on autopilot, tried a crossover to go left, but that's exactly what they were waiting for. The moment the ball moved from his right hand to his left, So Ho, who seemed to be off to the side, closed the distance lightning-fast and stretched out his hand.
Snap. A clean, sharp snap of fingertips against the ball's skin.
The ball, stripped away, rolled towards Jen Ryu. He didn't even dribble it. He threw it back to So Ho with a short bounce pass off the asphalt — a pass faster than turning one's head. Haru Lin, trying to recover, rushed at So Ho, but he had already picked the ball up, feigning a shot. Haru instinctively jumped to block.
And in that moment, So Ho, smiling coldly, simply lowered the ball and passed it through the legs of the desperately jumping Haru — right to where Jen Ryu was already charging full speed into the paint. He caught the ball two steps from the hoop and, without slowing, softly laid it in off the glass with his fingertips.
Swish!
"Again, guys! One more point!" So Ho barked, but there was no euphoria in his cry.
The moment the ball left the net, Mei Yu scooped it up and instantly put it back in play with a quick pass to Jen Ryu. The latter, without hesitating, returned it with one touch to So Ho at the top of the key. Haru Lin, stunned by the speed and coordination, darted around like a puppy between the legs of bulls. So Ho received the ball, caught the gaze of Haru, who was rushing at him, and again — a short, cutting pass behind his back, to where Mei Yu was finishing his cut. There was no defense. Just an orange blur flickering among three players, and one panting man hopelessly trying to catch it.
Mei Yu, receiving the pass, didn't even look at the basket. He saw Haru Lin turn and charge towards him, and he saw Jen Ryu making a diagonal cut to the basket. With one motion, almost a throw, he sent the ball there. Jen Ryu caught it in mid-air and, still airborne, sent it back off the backboard. The ball, softly kissing the glass, rolled into the hoop.
Swish!
A tomb-like silence fell on the bench. Lu Shen was no longer shouting. He just sat there, eyes wide. Hong Ren was gloomily looking at his feet, Jung Ho had his arms crossed, his face inscrutable.
And only Ming You seemed… interested. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sliding not after the ball, but after the players, their movements, that invisible net they had woven.
Haru Lin stood, hands on his knees, breathing heavily. The ringing in his ears was now from his own heart, hammering desperately in his chest. He received the ball on the inbound after the scored point. But this time he didn't move forward. He retreated. One step, two, until he was right on the center line of the court, far beyond the arc.
From where people shoot out of desperation or for show. The air around him seemed to thicken. He took a deep breath, trying to expel the burning from his lungs and the relentless rhythm of their passes from his head. His world narrowed to the distant, almost toy-like hoop hanging in the gloom under the rusty backboard.
Jen Ryu, standing nearby, snorted and jabbed a thumb in his direction, talking to his teammates:
"Hey, look at him. Already praying to hit from mid-court."
Haru Lin didn't hear him. He simply jumped. His shot from center court was more like launching a projectile — powerful, with excessive force. The ball, tracing an unnaturally flat arc, flew over the hoop, hit the back of the backboard with a dull thud, and bounced away like unwanted trash.
"Damn it!" escaped Haru.
"We stick to the plan! Quietly, quickly, no mistakes!" So Ho commanded, already grabbing the rebound.
Their offense unfolded instantly. The ball in So Ho's hands, Jen Ryu makes a dash along the baseline, drawing Haru Lin's gaze, who rushed in a desperate attempt to contest. But it was a feint. So Ho pretended to pass to Jen Ryu, and at the last moment tossed the ball over his head to the opposite wing — to Mei Yu.
Mei Yu, whom Haru Lin had left in his panic, caught the ball already on the move. He didn't dribble. His specialty — passing — was on full display now. He controlled the ball with one touch, as if dampening its speed, and in the same motion, without stopping, sent it back into the center of the paint, where Jen Ryu, having made a looping cut, crashed in as if on rails. Haru Lin darted between them like a puppet on strings.
Jen Ryu received the pass right under the basket. There wasn't even time to gather. He simply tossed the ball up softly. It kissed the backboard and, with a hollow, joyless sound, rolled into the net.