The days blur together—classrooms humming with bored chatter, the thud of basketballs echoing through the gym, the sharp sting of sweat in our eyes. School. Training. Sleep. Over and over, like clockwork. But when Friday comes, the air shifts. The team gathers under the pale gym lights, the wooden floor creaking beneath our sneakers. We don't just meet to talk. We prepare—for the final battle that's waiting for us just beyond the horizon.
"So, we'll talk about our final strategy," Coach Tsugawa said, his voice steady, his eyes scanning each of us with quiet intensity.
We were gathered again in the gym—the same place we laughed, trained, and nearly collapsed from exhaustion during camp. But tonight? The air was different. Tighter. Heavier. Like the floor itself was holding its breath.
"The core of our plan is simple," he continued. "Don't get agitated. Don't get provoked."
His tone sharpened, slicing through the warm silence like a blade.
