The whistle split through the morning air like lightning.

"LINE UP!"

The echo bounced off the gym walls. The players, still sore from yesterday's shock introduction, scrambled into formation. The air smelled of sweat and floor wax, mixed with the faint chill of dawn.

Hikari Aoyama stood at center court clipboard in hand, whistle glinting around her neck, her black tracksuit crisp and neat as if she hadn't sweated once yesterday. Her presence alone silenced chatter.

Yuuto rubbed his eyes, bouncing the ball lazily.

"She doesn't sleep, huh?" he muttered.

Marcus, already stretching, shot him a sharp look.

"She's a coach, not a miracle worker. Focus."

Yuuto smirked. "You sound like her already, Captain."

Marcus ignored the jab. He was focused, but there was something else in his eyes determination and unease. Yesterday, Hikari had pointed out his flaws in front of everyone. Today, he planned to prove himself.

Hikari blew the whistle again.

"Alright. Today is diagnostic drills: day two. We're working on individual skill refinement. Offense, you're with me. Defense, Captain Rowe will lead you."

A ripple of surprise went through the group.

"Me?" Marcus asked.

Hikari's gaze didn't waver. "You're the captain, aren't you? Lead. Show them your version of defense."

Marcus nodded slowly. "Understood."

The players split half followed Hikari to one end of the gym, the others gathered around Marcus.

The gym instantly transformed into two different worlds.

On one end: Hikari's precision.

On the other: Marcus's grit.

Hikari's Offense Group

"Basketball isn't just speed or strength," Hikari began, her tone level but sharp. "It's about space. How you create it, read it, and destroy it."

She set up cones across the half-court in chaotic patterns.

"First drill — 1v2 fast breaks."

The players blinked. "One versus two?"

"Yes," she said simply, tossing the ball to Yuuto. "Attackers will learn to survive when outnumbered. Defenders will learn to close gaps without fouling. Yuuto, you're first."

Yuuto tightened his grip on the ball, exhaling slowly.

Two defenders Toma and Keiji squared up, grinning.

"You're dead, bro," Toma teased.

Yuuto cracked his neck. "We'll see."

The whistle blew.

He darted left, spun right, cut between them only to get trapped mid-lane. Toma lunged, Keiji closed off his angle. Yuuto tried to fake, but the ball was slapped away.

"Out," Hikari said, no emotion in her tone.

"Damn," Yuuto muttered, jogging back.

"You're reacting," Hikari said, stepping closer. "You're not reading. Space awareness isn't about instinct it's about anticipation. Run it again."

He nodded, jaw tight.

The whistle blew again.

This time, he paused for half a heartbeat before moving. Toma lunged early. That was the window. Yuuto slid behind him, switched to his left, and exploded through the gap. Layup clean.

The ball dropped through the net with a satisfying swish.

Hikari's lips curved slightly. "Better."

At the other end of the gym, Marcus clapped his hands.

"Alright, listen up! We're running zone compression drills. I want strong rotations and no lazy closeouts."

His tone carried authority sharp, confident, almost mirroring Hikari's.

"Rookies, take the corners. Veterans, mid-zone. Communicate on every switch!"

The whistle blew.

The defenders shuffled, knees bent, eyes tracking invisible passes. Sweat began to bead down foreheads within minutes.

Ryo grunted, "Captain, we've done this a thousand times"

Marcus snapped, "Then show me you've learned something!"

He tossed the ball to Ryo, then immediately charged him. "Move your feet, not your hands! Don't foul!"

The team's rhythm started syncing sliding, rotating, talking. It wasn't perfect, but Marcus could feel something returning: discipline.

Still, part of his focus drifted to the far court to Hikari, who was observing her group like a hawk. Every so often, she'd glance his way. And every time she did, Marcus felt his heart tighten.

Hikari called a brief pause, walking across the gym.

"Captain Marcus," she said. "How's defense holding up?"

Marcus wiped his forehead. "Solid. They're talking better now."

"Good," she said. Then her eyes drifted toward his stance. "But you still drop your shoulder too far on lateral slides. If a guard reads that, you're done."

Marcus frowned slightly. "I'm adjusting."

Hikari smirked. "Adjust faster."

She turned to leave, but Marcus stopped her. "Coach Aoyama."

She paused. "Yes?"

"You said you were a King of the Court once."

Her expression softened slightly, but her tone stayed firm. "Yes."

"What did it take to get there?"

Hikari studied him for a moment. "Discipline. And the will to break your own habits before your opponents do it for you."

Marcus nodded slowly. "Then I'll do that."

"Good," she said, turning away again. "Because I'm not slowing down for anyone.

Unconventional Passing Drills

By noon, the gym looked like chaos.

Hikari had set up three passing zones small squares marked by cones, each barely large enough for two players to move freely.

"Inside these zones," she explained, "you'll pass the ball through moving defenders. If the ball leaves the square, it's a turnover. Fast hands. Sharp vision."

"Coach," one of the seniors said, panting, "that's impossible."

Hikari smiled faintly. "So is winning, until you do it."

Yuuto took his position. Two defenders hovered in his zone, arms waving.

"Timer: 45 seconds. Let's go."

The whistle shrieked.

The defenders lunged, but Yuuto spun, faked a pass left, then zipped the ball under their arms to Shunjin on the outside.

"Move! Move!" he yelled, shifting spots, catching the return.

Sweat dripped into his eyes, but he refused to blink.

"Ten seconds," Hikari called.

He saw an opening small, dangerous. He flicked the ball through the gap, barely missing a defender's reach. The pass connected.

"Time!"

Yuuto collapsed, breathing hard.

Hikari clapped once. "That's what I mean by space creation. You make the defense react to you, not the other way around."

Yuuto looked up, half-smiling. "Feels like chess."

"Basketball is chess," she replied. "Just played at 100 miles per hour."

Afternoon sunlight slanted through the high windows, painting golden lines across the court. The players were exhausted, but Hikari's energy never faltered.

"Next," she said, "shooting off lateral movement."

She demonstrated side-step right, two bounces, sudden pull-up jumper.

The ball arced smoothly into the net. Swish.

Her form was perfect effortless, almost beautiful.

The gym went quiet.

"Your turn," she said simply, tossing the ball to Yuuto.

He caught it, copying her steps.

Side-step, bounce, shoot clank.

"Again."

Bounce, step, shoot miss.

"Again."

Sweat rolled down his face. His arms burned.

"Again."

The ball finally sailed clean through the rim.

"Good," she said, nodding. "You're starting to feel the court instead of just seeing it."

"Feels like my legs are dying, though," he muttered.

"That means you're learning."

By late afternoon, tension had begun to simmer.

The 6 formers Toma, Keiji, and Ryo leaned against the wall during the short water break, whispering.

"This is insane," Toma said. "Two days and I can't feel my legs."

"Same," Ryo grunted. "She's treating us like pros."

Keiji scoffed. "She was a King of the Court. Probably thinks we're weak."

Unluckily for them, Hikari overheard.

She turned slowly, eyes cold. "Do you know why the King of the Court title exists?"

The gym went silent.

"It's not for talent," she said, stepping closer. "It's for consistency. The ability to play your best even when you hate the game. When your body fails. When everyone else quits."

Her voice softened, but the words cut deeper.

"If you can't handle a few drills, maybe you're not ready for the court at all."

The veterans fell silent. Even Marcus didn't intervene.

"Final set," Hikari announced. "Five-on-five. No referees, no pauses. You call your own fouls. Offense versus defense you decide which side you're on."

Marcus and Yuuto exchanged glances.

"I'll take offense," Yūto said.

Marcus smirked. "Figures. I'll shut you down then."

The whistle blew.

Immediately, Yuuto darted upcourt, his movements more refined now. He wasn't rushing. He was reading. The defenders closed, but instead of panicking, he bounced the ball through a narrow lane to Shinji.

Marcus intercepted, leaping high to block the shot.

"Not today!" he shouted.

The ball ricocheted off his arm. Yūto snatched it midair, spun, and nailed a floater before Marcus could turn.

"Nice recovery," Hikari called.

Marcus grit his teeth. "He got lucky."

The next play, Marcus anchored the defense, shouting orders. "Switch left! Watch baseline!"

Yūto tried to cut in again, but Marcus anticipated it this time, stealing the ball clean.

"Now that's defense," Hikari said, writing something on her clipboard.

A smirk crossed Marcus's face. Finally, she'd noticed.

They went back and forth for nearly half an hour. No one slacked. No one gave up. The energy was raw the gym alive with squeaks, thuds, and the sound of players gasping for air.

When the final whistle blew, the team collapsed onto the floor.

Hikari let them rest for a long moment before speaking.

"You're improving," she said finally. "Slowly but it's there."

Yūto looked up. "Even the vets?"

She glanced at Toma, Keiji, and Ryo. "Especially the vets."

The three nodded quietly.

Marcus sat against the wall, exhausted but satisfied.

He caught Hikari's gaze and nodded once in silent respect. She returned it.

"Tomorrow," she continued, "we shift to Technique Week. You'll learn to convert all this individual skill into team synergy. The real test begins then."

Groans filled the air but beneath the exhaustion, there was something new.

Respect.

Most players had gone home. The gym was silent again, bathed in the soft orange of sunset.

Marcus stayed back, practicing slides along the baseline.

Hikari walked in, her footsteps quiet but sure.

"Still training?" she asked.

He didn't stop. "Can't lead if I'm not the best."

She watched for a moment, then said, "Leadership isn't about being the best, Marcus. It's about being the one who doesn't break first."

He paused, turning toward her. "You sound like Coach Shimizu."

She smiled faintly. "I learned it from him."

Marcus blinked. "He trained you?"

"For a time," she said softly. "Before he became who he is."

He exhaled slowly. "Then I guess we're lucky to have you."

Hikari's eyes softened just a little. "Don't say that yet. Wait until you survive my next drill."

Marcus chuckled, shaking his head. "Can't wait."

As she left, Yuuto appeared from the hallway, dribbling a spare ball.

"You too, huh?" Marcus asked.

"Can't stop thinking about that space drill," Yuuto replied. "She made me see the court different."

Marcus smiled. "Good. You'll need that for what's coming."

The two stood there in companionable silence, bouncing balls in rhythm the sound echoing softly under the golden light.

For the first time since Coach Shimizu's absence, Seiryō's gym didn't feel empty.

It felt alive like something was awakening.

And it all began with the Queen's arrival.

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