1 — THE EMPTY GYM AT DAWN
The gym smelled of sweat, varnished hardwood, and the faint hint of morning dew seeping through the windows. Outside, the first pale light of 6:00 AM crept across the floor, slanting through the high windows and casting long, golden streaks across the court. Dust motes floated lazily, shimmering in the beams like tiny stars suspended in time.
Yuuto Kisaragi sat on the polished floor, legs stretched, bouncing a basketball slowly. The echoes rolled across the walls with every tap—thump… thump… thump. Each sound carried a weight, a rhythm that seemed to pulse in sync with his own heartbeat.
He was alone. Officially. Everyone else had gone home hours ago, exhausted from the relentless drills and mental tests Takeda and Hikari had thrown at them during Day 1 of Hell Week.
Yet here he was, awake before the sun, drawn by the quiet magnetism of the court, by the pulse of possibility.
