Night draped itself over Hakuro Academy like a silent warning.
The moon hung low, pale and sharp, casting thin silver blades of light across the empty outdoor court. Most of the school had already settled into stillness—lights turned off, doors locked, students resting before tomorrow's big game.
But one person was awake.
Ryu Kazen trudged across the cold concrete wearing a black windbreaker and loose shooting sleeves. His breath fogged in the cool air. His shoes echoed against the ground—a slow, steady rhythm that felt nothing like his usual confident, arrogant bounce.
Tonight was different.
Tonight wasn't about showmanship or dominance.
Tonight was about the one thing he pretended he never felt:
Pressure.
Ryu dribbled a ball slowly, letting it strike the ground with muted thuds. Not flashy. Not fast. Just controlled. He wasn't warming up his handles. He wasn't practicing moves.
He was thinking.
His voice broke the quiet.
"…Yuuto Sato."
