The door clicked shut behind him.
Fumi stood there for a second.
Quiet.
The apartment felt warm.
It smelled like food.
"…I'm home," he said.
"In here!" his mom called.
Fumi stepped inside.
Their place was big.
Not huge.
But enough space to breathe.
The kitchen lights were on. The table was already set. Plates, bowls, steam rising from fresh food.
His dad looked over.
"Hey!" he said. "You're late!!!" he said in a playful attitude.
Fumi nodded.
"…Yeah."
His mom smiled.
"Go wash up. Dinner's ready."
Fumi didn't move right away.
His hands tightened slightly.
"…I got cut."
Silence.
Just for a second.
His mom blinked.
"Oh."
His dad leaned back slightly.
"…Cut?"
Fumi nodded.
"Yeah."
No excuses.
No explaining.
Just that.
Another pause.
Fumi waited.
For disappointment.
For frustration.
For something.
But it didn't come.
His mom walked over first.
She placed a hand on his shoulder.
"…Did you try your best?"
Fumi froze.
"…Yeah."
His voice was quiet.
But real.
His dad nodded once.
"Then that's enough."
Fumi looked up.
"…What?"
"You tried," his dad said. "That's what matters."
His mom smiled softly.
"You'll figure it out."
No anger.
No blame.
Just that.
Fumi didn't know what to say.
"…Okay."
That was all he could manage.
They sat down.
Dinner started.
Plates clinked softly.
Chopsticks. Forks. Quiet bites.
No one pushed him.
No one brought it up again.
But Fumi couldn't stop thinking about it.
The window sat right next to the table.
Huge.
Stretching across the wall.
New York City lit up outside.
Cars moving like tiny lights.
Buildings glowing.
Endless.
Fumi stared at it while he ate.
Barely tasting anything.
I lost it.
The team.
The court.
Everything.
His reflection faintly showed in the glass.
Small.
Still.
Useless.
He gripped his fork a little tighter.
Then loosened it.
His mom said something.
His dad replied.
Fumi didn't really hear it.
The city kept moving.
Like nothing changed.
Like he didn't matter at all.
Eventually, his plate was empty.
Fumi stood up.
"I'm gonna head out," he said.
His parents looked at him.
"…Now?" his mom asked.
Fumi nodded.
"Yeah."
A small pause.
Then his dad gave a short nod.
"Alright."
"Be safe," his mom said.
Fumi grabbed his ball near the door.
Held it tight.
He opened the door.
Stepped out.
And this time,
He didn't hesitate.