A GAME CALLED TRUST

The sky hung low and heavy with early morning colors—a deep blue fading gradually into soft shades of orange near the horizon. A cold wind whispered over the school grounds, rustling dry leaves scattered across the pavement. The grounds were quiet but alive with movement; the occasional sharp sound of sneaker soles against the rubber track broke the stillness as the track team ran laps in steady rhythm. Their breaths came in quick bursts, forming small, visible clouds that drifted away in the chill air.

On the edge of the field, the dampness of early morning coated the grass with tiny droplets of dew, sparkling faintly in the weak light. The scent of wet earth mixed with the faint metallic smell of the nearby bleachers, cold and still. Nearby, members of the Newspaper Club unlocked the old equipment shed with keys that clinked softly in the quiet. They wheeled out heavy cases, setting down cameras and tripods with measured care, their fingers numb from the cold as they prepared for the morning shoot.

Naomi slowed her jog, sweat dampening the back of her neck despite the cold air. Her chest rose and fell heavily as she wiped her brow with the back of her hand, leaving streaks of moisture on her skin. She glanced toward the sideline where the Newspaper Club was adjusting their gear.

"Hey, Rie. How are you?" Naomi called, breath still a little heavy.

"I… I'm alright," Rie answered softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her voice was low and quiet.

Naomi stepped closer, careful not to trip on the uneven ground. "You guys are really out here before the sun," she said with a small smile, her tone light but tired.

"Yeah, trying to catch the sunrise over the field for the paper," Airi said, yawning as she leaned over the camera lens to make some final adjustments. Her fingers felt stiff as she turned the knobs, the cold metal a sharp contrast to her warm breath fogging in the air.

Naomi smirked and stretched her arms above her head, the muscles in her shoulders stiff but loosening. "You guys are working hard too, huh? Coach says if we're not sweating before the bell rings, we're doing it wrong."

She turned her gaze toward the gym. From the building, a faint sound of bouncing basketballs echoed through the open doors. "You should check out the basketball team too—they're already making noise in there."

Inside the gym, the morning light spilled through high windows in broad, straight beams. The polished hardwood floor reflected the sunlight clearly, each mark and scuff visible under the bright glare. The sharp, clean smell of floor polish mixed with the damp scent of sweat and worn leather. The steady bounce of basketballs created a rhythmic backdrop, punctuated by the high-pitched squeak of sneakers sliding and pivoting on the floor.

The team had regrouped near center court. They formed two lines, one on each wing, and moved in unison. Hayato stepped forward first, his shoes softly thumping as he glided toward the basket. He jumped, releasing the ball with a practiced flick that bounced cleanly off the glass before dropping through the net. He circled back to the line, breathing steady and even.

Makoto caught the rebound quickly and bounced the ball to Shino. Shino's foot was already planted firmly on the floor, ready to launch into his next move. Noboru and Tadao followed behind, exchanging short passes as they shuffled forward in formation. The players rarely spoke, communicating instead through quick gestures and subtle nods. The sharp slap of a high-five here and there mixed with the sound of labored breathing and the occasional grunt. Somewhere, the coach's whistle cut sharply through the noise, sharp and commanding.

Tetsuo stepped forward and laid the ball in from the left side smoothly. Yukio followed quickly, his movements light and fast. Takahiro's shoes scraped briefly against the floor as he drove toward the basket and released the ball, which softly kissed the backboard before falling through. Liam, at the end of the line, inhaled deeply and jogged forward, flipping the ball up with practiced ease before moving to the back of the line.

The gym was alive with focused energy. The quiet intensity filled the space like a slow drumbeat, steady and sure.

Nanaho called out sharply, "Shino, don't twist your shoulders on the takeoff. Keep your body square when you go up for the layup."

She turned toward Noboru without missing a beat. "Noboru, you're floating too much—plant your inside foot and drive straight. You're losing power on the lift."

Shino blinked, startled, then gave a quick nod. "Th-thanks for pointing that out, Fukazawa-senpai. I'll fix it."

Noboru muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for the others to hear, "Tch… I still scored, didn't I? Why's she lecturing me?"

As the players began to stretch, Nanaho blew her whistle sharply. The piercing sound cut through the room, demanding attention. She clapped her hands once and called out clearly, "Alright, we'll be going straight into four-on-four settings again—the same teams as last time."

"Yes, coach," the players replied in unison, their voices steady but tired.

Noboru shifted on his feet, looking toward Nanaho. "So, um, coach, what should I be doing?" he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Nanaho met his gaze with a flat look. "You?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "Well, seeing as you're too good to be coached, I figured I'd let you rest today. But if you're feeling humble all of a sudden, you can run with the girls' track team or work on your layup form—your choice."

Noboru groaned quietly. "This is not fair. How does Shino get to play over me? Damn, this sucks," he muttered as he went over to a corner to practice his form drills.

The whistle blew again.

The ball was inbounded.

Hayato dribbled the ball up court, steady and controlled. Makoto stepped up immediately to guard him, eyes sharp and focused.

Tetsuo kept close to Yukio on the wing, moving with light, quick steps.

Shino stuck close to Takahiro, who was waiting in the corner.

Liam posted up against Tadao in the paint, using his longer reach to keep Tadao at bay.

"Man, how is he this strong?" Tadao grunted, bracing himself to hold position..

Hayato passed the ball smoothly to Yukio, who squared off against Tetsuo. Yukio called for a screen from Liam. After using the screen, he drove toward the rim and made an open layup.

"God dammit," Tadao said again, frustration clear in his voice.

Tetsuo glanced toward him calmly. "Um, listen Tadao, if I get screened off and you can't guard Liam, you have to protect the rim. You do that by switching to mark Yukio."

His tone was blank but steady.

Makoto interrupted. "Don't waste your time explaining to that idiot, Tetsuo. Let's just get into our offense."

"This punk is really getting on my nerves," Tadao muttered under his breath.

Nanaho's voice snapped across the court.

"Tadao! You've got to call that screen—if Tetsuo's getting picked, you have to switch or inform him of the direction! Don't stand there like it's not your problem!"

Tadao clenched his jaw and gave a short nod, muttering under his breath as he jogged back into position, "Damn… she's so abnormally annoying."

Nanaho added sharply, "And communicate with each other! That's half the defense!"

She let out a sigh, dragging her fingers through her bangs as she watched the team scramble into formation.

I swear, she thought, that boy is really getting on my nerves.

Shino inbounded the ball to Makoto, who dribbled quietly up the court with Hayato guarding closely.

Hayato thought to himself, I've been guarding this first-year for a while now and I still can't tell what he's planning. He doesn't even call plays; he just lets the team figure it out and somehow it works.

Makoto's eyes flicked toward Shino on the wing. Shino, caught in the glance, blushed and looked away briefly. Then he looked back and seemed to read Makoto's intention, setting a screen for Tetsuo.

Shino sprinted across the court, Takahiro following closely behind. He attempted to set a screen for Tetsuo, but Yukio quickly jumped it. Tetsuo faked using the screen and slipped to an open spot behind the three-point line.

Makoto dribbled once and sent a sharp one-handed pass to Tetsuo, who caught it cleanly.

Takahiro tried to jump and block the shot, but he was too late. Tetsuo's shot swished through the net.

"Nice shot, Tetsuo, and nice screen, Shino," Makoto said as he jogged back to defense.

"Right!!" Shino stammered, flushed and excited.

"Not gonna lie, Tetsuo has gotten a lot sharper at freeing himself up," Takahiro said, catching his breath.

"Yes, you're right. But it's not just that. The chemistry with the first years is improving. Shino usually waits for instructions, but now he's taking initiative and growing every day. Tetsuo and Makoto are special on their own, but together they're dangerous," Yukio added.

Hayato brought the ball up court this time.

Yukio set a screen, then dribbled to the corner. Hayato lobbed the ball to Liam, who was positioned in the paint. Tadao guarded him with everything he had.

"Damn, he's strong," Tadao muttered through clenched teeth.

Liam pounded the ball once, spun, and laid it up cleanly.

"Nice one, Liam," Hayato said with a smile. Liam returned the smile brightly.

Yukio thought quietly, Tadao is strong, but he stopped playing basketball for a long time. Liam used to be a track athlete and is fit on another level. Liam's also about eight centimeters taller with a longer wingspan. Tadao stands no chance, but he's doing well for a first year.

"Nice layup!! Liam!!" Nanaho shouted.

Tomoe stood beside Nanaho, silent and watching. She hadn't spoken since practice began.

"Um, Tomoe, are you alright?" Nanaho asked after noticing.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine, Nanaho," Tomoe replied softly, eyes still fixed on the court.

"This team's really become strong—stronger than when you used to play, Hiroki."

She tugged lightly at the hem of her sweatpants, the worn fabric cool against her fingers. Her eyes stayed fixed on Tetsuo on the court, and for a moment, the image of her older brother Hiroki flashed in her mind—strong, focused, a great shooter. A gentle warmth touched her cheeks, barely noticeable, as she remained quiet and thoughtful.

Shino inbounded the ball once more.

Makoto brought it up court—controlled and quiet. His eyes scanned the court carefully.

Hayato squared up on Makoto, arms wide.

Takahiro stuck close to Shino, not giving him any space.

Yukio focused tightly on Tetsuo, denying any pass or screen.

Liam watched Tadao in the paint, his feet active but relaxed—not expecting a pass.

Makoto raised his hand to shield the ball.

"Pass the ball, punk," Tadao muttered under his breath, trying to keep his temper.

Makoto sighed and dribbled toward Hayato. He crossed behind his back, but Hayato recovered. Makoto crossed between his legs and slipped by.

"Damn, he got me again," Hayato said, frustrated.

Takahiro left Shino slightly open to try and stop Makoto. Liam stepped up in the paint, arms stretched out to cover more area. Yukio kept denying Tetsuo passes.

Makoto's eyes flicked to Tadao at the elbow.

This sucks... but if I want the team to stand a winning chance in the tournament, I can't keep this up he thought.

Just for a second, he hesitated—then zipped a bounce pass between Liam and Takahiro, threading the ball through a narrow gap.

"What the—" Takahiro said, shocked.

Tadao caught it mid-step, surprised but ready.

One power dribble.

Two steps.

Boom. A loud one-handed dunk rattled the rim.

Pause. Everyone stared.

"Whoa, that was so cool," Shino said.

"Nice pass, you bastard," Tadao said with a smirk.

Makoto didn't answer. He ran back on defense.

"He sure fooled me with that one, but that's what makes basketball interesting," Liam said with a smile.

Just the other day, Makoto wouldn't even look Tadao's way. Wouldn't pass to him or talk to him—kept his distance.

And who could blame him? Tadao had attacked him, Noboru, and others before joining the team. He was basically a thug. The tension between them was always there.

But now… Yukio watched the pass again. Makoto trusted Tadao with a clean, deliberate pass.

"What changed? What happened yesterday?" Yukio wondered.

Whatever it was, he was glad they were finally getting along.

He looked toward Coach Nanaho.

She stood still, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the court. A faint smile played at the corner of her lips.

They're finally getting along… Took them long enough. I didn't think Makoto would ever move past it—not after what Tadao did. But now, quick passes, no hesitation, reading each other like real teammates. If they keep this up, maybe the Inter-High isn't just a pipe dream. Maybe we really have a shot this year.

I can't wait for our first game next week. I want to see how far they've come when it really counts.

She exhaled slowly, quietly satisfied.

The ball bounced again. Sneakers squeaked. The team reset.

Nanaho kept watching—this time with real hope in her eyes.