The sun outside was blistering, but inside the Graves Residence Gym, the temperature was calm the air humming with the low, consistent buzz of fluorescent lights overhead.
A tension hung in the room, not of conflict, but of curiosity. Something was different today.
Coach Fred Mason, the once-disgraced but now-redeemed coach of Vorpal Basket, stood near the center of the court. His frame was still large, his shirt slightly tight from the summer weight, but his posture was better more commanding, more serious. He'd been changing. Evolving. Trying.
Beside him stood a tall, clean-cut man in a gray blazer, his expression unreadable. His sharp black slacks and polished shoes clashed with the scuffed court. He looked out of place yet somehow, he owned the space.
Ayumi, clipboard in hand, finally broke the silence.
"Coach... so this man is...?"
Fred nodded, folding his arms as he gave a slight grin.
