...

On his way home, Moyun felt like a walking corpse — his steps were heavy, and his heart was weighed down by a deep sense of loss and helplessness.

It was as if his world had lost all color, leaving behind only shades of gray and suffocating pressure.

For Moyun, basketball wasn't just a sport—it was his passion, his escape, his way of connecting with the world.

Yet, his family's opposition made his dream feel distant, like an invisible wall separating him from what he loved most.

"Nice shot!" Cheers and laughter erupted from a nearby outdoor court, echoes of pure joy and freedom.

Moyun turned his head, his eyes filled with envy.

He envied those players—running, jumping, sweating without a care — chasing their passion without any restrictions.

That was the kind of life he had always dreamed of—simple, unburdened, and filled with the pure joy of basketball.

But with a sigh, he tore his gaze away from the court and focused back on the path ahead.

His head hung even lower, and his steps grew heavier, as if each one pressed down on his chest, making it harder to breathe.

His mood mirrored the overcast sky above—oppressive and stifling, with no sign of relief.

Thud!

A sudden impact snapped Moyun out of his thoughts — he hadn't even noticed the person in front of him before colliding head-on.

"Sorry!" He quickly looked up to apologize — only to see that it was Shiro.

"What were you thinking about? You looked completely zoned out." Shiro studied his troubled expression with concern.

Moyun waved his hand dismissively. He didn't want to burden anyone with his worries, much less reveal the complicated situation with his family.

"Come on, let's hoop." Shiro seemed to see right through him and gestured toward the court Moyun had been watching earlier.

For a brief moment, a flicker of desire flashed in Moyun's eyes, but he quickly suppressed it. He shook his head. "Forget it."

Shiro was observant—he caught that fleeting moment of hesitation. He understood the internal battle Moyun was fighting.

Without another word, he grabbed Moyun's arm. "Let's go. I know you want to play."

Moyun hesitated. But Shiro's persistence chipped away at his resistance.

With Shiro's encouragement pulling him forward, Moyun finally let go of his hesitation, and together, they walked toward the court.

At that moment, Shiro's enthusiasm and Moyun's buried passion merged into a force that propelled them forward.

"Yo, can we get two more?" Shiro called out to the players on the court, his voice laced with anticipation and excitement.

"Sure! We're just short two guys for a 3-on-3!"

Their warm welcome and easygoing attitude filled Moyun with a sense of belonging — a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time.

And with that, Shiro and Moyun joined the game.

The moment they stepped onto the court, their skills took center stage. Every dribble, pass, and shot carried power and precision.

They moved like dancers, their every step flowing in perfect rhythm.

Their chemistry was undeniable — every offensive play was like a well-rehearsed sequence, drawing all eyes to their seamless coordination.

Moyun quickly found his groove, his movements becoming more fluid, his jumps feeling weightless.

As the ball bounced, so did his spirits — his worries faded away, drowned out by the sound of sneakers squeaking against the pavement and the rhythmic pounding of the ball.

For the first time in a long while, he felt truly free.

Every bucket, every fast break, every victory on the court filled him with pure joy and satisfaction.

With each possession, his connection with Shiro grew stronger, until the two of them became an unstoppable duo.

And for the first time in ages, a genuine smile lit up Moyun's face.

After playing for what felt like hours, his mood had finally lifted.

Sweat dripped from his forehead, falling onto the court like the weight on his shoulders slowly melting away.

Every impact of the ball against the ground felt like a beat against his soul, unlocking a sense of release and liberation.

"Damn... being able to play basketball really is something special."

Shiro handed him a bottle of water, and the two of them sat on a bench, catching their breath.

The court lights shone brightly against the night sky, casting long shadows behind them.

Shiro's simple gesture — handing over the water — carried an unspoken message of support and understanding.

Moyun took the bottle, twisted the cap open, and took a deep, refreshing gulp.

The cool water flowed down his throat, washing away the heat from his body and bringing a sense of calm to his heart.

He then grabbed a towel and wiped his face, his movements carrying the rugged, unpolished energy of an athlete.

"If something's on your mind, you can talk to me. Don't keep it all bottled up" Shiro said, turning to him with an easygoing smile. "I mean, we've already played two games together. That makes us friends, right?"

His voice was lighthearted, laced with humor—an attempt to ease Moyun's burden.

Moyun lowered his head, hesitation flashing across his face before he finally spoke.

"My mom doesn't want me playing basketball. She wants me to focus on school instead. This morning... she found the ball I had hidden downstairs. So now, she knows I've been sneaking off to play."

His voice was low, carrying frustration and resignation.

Shiro's eyes widened slightly—he hadn't expected that.

"Seriously? She won't even let him have his own passion?"

He had assumed Moyun's family had adapted after moving abroad, that they wouldn't hold such traditional views. But apparently, even the idea of having a personal passion was being stifled.

This kind of restriction — it was suffocating.

"So... that's why you won't join the basketball team?" Shiro asked, his tone filled with understanding.

His gaze held a quiet empathy, as if he could see right through Moyun's inner conflict.

"Yeah..." Moyun nodded, his voice trembling slightly. It was the weight of his love for basketball clashing with the harsh reality of his situation.

Deep down, he wanted to join the team.

He wanted to go up against the best.

He wanted to experience the thrill of real competition.

His eyes shone with passion — but also with the pain of knowing he might have to give it all up.

Shiro was silent for a moment, lost in thought. Then, he lifted his head and met Moyun's eyes with quiet determination.

"You know... real passion is like a fire. No matter how strong the wind or rain, it won't go out. If you truly love basketball, you can't just let outside pressure snuff it out. As long as you hold on to that passion, you will find a way to make it work."

His words struck a chord deep within Moyun's heart, warming something that had long gone cold.

A flicker of light returned to his eyes—the light of hope.

Because the truth was, he wanted to keep playing.

He wanted to chase his dream, no matter how tough the road ahead would be.

"I believe in you" Shiro continued. "Nothing can stop you from playing basketball—because it's what you love. I think you should sit down and talk with your family. Make them understand."

His words carried conviction — rooted in experience.

In his past life, Shiro had fought his own battles in the CUBA. He understood the weight of dreams, and the pain of being held back.

The two of them exchanged a glance, and for the first time, Moyun felt like someone truly understood him.

Under the bright court lights, they both smiled.

This wasn't just the end of a game.

It was the beginning of Moyun's journey toward his dream.