The afternoon sun had already begun its slow descent when the team gathered inside the gym, its warm light filtering through the high windows and casting long shadows across the polished wooden floor. The air carried the familiar scent of rubber, sweat, and effort, a place where improvement was forged through repetition and discipline.
Renji arrived a few minutes earlier than the others, as he always did.
He pushed open the gym doors quietly, a basketball tucked under his arm, his expression calm yet focused. The echo of his footsteps stretched across the empty court as he walked toward the center. For a brief moment, he stood there, scanning the space, not as a player, but as someone evaluating it.
His mind instinctively mapped everything.
Without wasting time, he began his warm-up. Light dribbles turned into controlled sequences, crossovers, hesitations, behind-the-back transitions. Each executed with precision. His body moved fluidly, efficiently, without unnecessary motion.
By the time the others started arriving, Renji was already sweating.
"Oi, Renji, you're early again," one of his teammates called out, dropping his bag near the bench.
Renji simply nodded. "Routine."
More of them trickled in, some stretching, others joking around, but a few immediately gravitated toward Renji.
"Hey… are we doing that again today?" another asked in a lower voice.
Renji glanced at him briefly, then nodded. "After warm-ups."
That was enough.
They had been training with him quietly in the morning, nothing official, nothing announced. Just small corrections, structured drills, and adjustments that had already started showing results.
At first, it had been casual.
Now, it was becoming something more.
The team began their usual warm-up routines, but there was a subtle difference. Movements were sharper. Footwork was more deliberate. Even their shooting rhythm had improved.
And that did not go unnoticed.
From the far side of the gym, May stood with her arms crossed, watching.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
Something was off.
She had spent enough time coaching to recognize patterns, and what she saw now wasn't coincidence. The team's coordination had improved beyond what their current training plan should allow.
Footwork alignment, timing on cuts and Defensive positioning. It was too consistent.
"Alright, gather up!" May called out, her voice echoing across the gym.
The players quickly assembled in front of her.
"We'll start with defensive drills today"
"Coach, uh…" one of the players hesitated, scratching the back of his head.
May raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"
He exchanged glances with the others before speaking. "We've… kind of been doing extra training."
"Extra training?" Her tone sharpened slightly. "With who?"
A brief silence followed. Then someone muttered, "Renji…"
The atmosphere shifted.
May's gaze slowly turned toward him.
Renji, who had been standing slightly off to the side, met her eyes calmly. There was no hesitation, no attempt to deny it.
"…Is that so?" she said.
The team instinctively stepped back, as if distancing themselves from the situation.
May walked toward Renji, her steps measured, deliberate.
"You've been training them?" she asked.
"Yes," Renji replied simply.
"And what exactly have you been teaching them?"
There was no arrogance in his posture as he answered. "Fundamentals. Footwork. Decision-making under pressure. Small adjustments."
"Small adjustments," May repeated, studying him carefully. "You make it sound simple."
"It is simple," Renji said. "Execution isn't."
A faint spark flickered in May's eyes.
That answer alone told her something.
"Show me," she said. Renji didn't hesitate.
He picked up a ball and gestured to one of his teammates. "Guard me Shiki."
The player nodded and stepped forward, settling into a defensive stance.
Renji began slowly, dribbling at a controlled pace. Then, without warning, his movements shifted. A slight change in rhythm, a subtle shift in weight, and he slipped past the defender with minimal effort.
But he didn't shoot, instead he stopped.
"Your stance is too upright," Renji said, looking at the defender. "You're reacting instead of anticipating. Lower your center. Watch the hips, not the ball."
The player adjusted instinctively.
"Again."
This time, Renji moved differently, not faster, but sharper. The defender lasted longer, but eventually, Renji still broke through.
He stopped once more.
"Better," Renji said. "But your first step is delayed. You hesitate before committing."
The player nodded, breathing slightly heavier now.
May watched everything in silence.
Every detail, correction, or method.
There was no wasted movement. No unnecessary explanation. Renji identified problems quickly and addressed them directly. Efficiently, Precise while Structured.
"…Again," May said suddenly.
Renji glanced at her, then nodded.
They repeated the sequence several times. Each iteration showed visible improvement from the player. Not dramatic, but consistent.
And that was what caught her attention the most was the Consistency of their movements.
After a few minutes, May raised a hand. "That's enough."
The player stepped back, wiping sweat from his forehead.
May turned fully toward Renji now, her expression no longer skeptical but curious.
"You've done this before," she said.
It wasn't a question.
Renji paused for a brief moment before answering. "Not officially."
"That's not what I asked."
Renji met her gaze. "…I've studied it."
"Studied," she repeated. "How?"
"Game analysis. Training structures. Conditioning methods. Coaching systems."
May let out a quiet breath.
That explained it but not entirely.
"You're not just copying drills," she said. "You understand why they work."
Renji didn't respond. He didn't need to.
May turned and looked at the rest of the first years. "You've all been training with him?"
They nodded.
"And you've improved?" Another round of nods.
She looked back at Renji, her expression shifting, less like a coach confronting a player, and more like a professional evaluating another.
"…Alright," she said.
The team blinked in surprise.
"Alright?" one of them repeated.
May ignored them.
Instead, she walked closer to Renji.
"Let's try something," she said. "You run a drill. I'll adjust it."
Renji's eyes sharpened slightly.
"…Understood."
The atmosphere in the gym changed again.
This time, it wasn't tension.
It was anticipation.
Renji stepped forward and gathered the team. "We'll start with a transition drill. Focus on spacing and decision-making."
He quickly explained the setup: concise, clear, no unnecessary words.
The players took their positions.
"Go."
The drill began.
Players moved across the court in fast transitions, passing, cutting, and reacting. It wasn't chaotic, but it wasn't rigid either. There was structure, but also adaptability.
May observed for a few seconds before stepping in.
"Stop."
She walked onto the court and repositioned two players slightly.
"Your spacing is too narrow," she said. "Widen it. You're limiting your passing angles."
She turned to another. "You're running too far ahead. Stay within range, you're breaking the flow."
Then she stepped back. "Again."
The drill resumed. This time, it flowed better. Cleaner and more efficient.
Renji watched closely.
"…Good adjustment," he said.
May glanced at him. "Your structure is solid. But you're pushing efficiency too early. They still need room to make mistakes."
Renji considered that.
"…Understood."
They continued like that.
Back and forth.
Adjustment after adjustment.
Renji focused on precision and structure.
May emphasized adaptability and flow.
Their approaches were different but not conflicting.
They complemented each other.
The team, caught in the middle of it, began improving at a faster pace than before.
Passes became sharper, movements more deliberate, decisions quicker.
Time passed without anyone noticing.
By the time the sun dipped lower and the gym lights flickered on, the team was exhausted but satisfied.
May wiped her forehead with a towel, exhaling slowly.
"…Not bad," she admitted.
Renji leaned slightly against the wall, catching his breath.
"…Same to you."
There was a brief silence between them.
Then May spoke again.
"You're not just a player," she said.
Renji didn't respond immediately.
"…I play," he said simply.
May shook her head slightly. "No. You analyze, you adapt and teach."
She crossed her arms again, but this time, there was a faint smile on her lips.
"…We'll work together," she said.
The team froze.
"…Wait, seriously?" someone blurted out.
May shot them a glance. "Don't get ahead of yourselves. I'm still the coach."
Then she looked back at Renji.
"But from now on… you assist."
Renji straightened slightly.
"…Understood."
"You work on their Strengths and I work on their Weaknesses." May added.
There was no excitement in his voice.
Only acceptance.
But deep down, something had shifted.
Not just for him but for the entire team.
Because from that afternoon onward, their training was no longer just practice. It had become something sharper. Weaknesses addressed, and Strengths sharpened.
Something deliberate, something that would shape them into something far more dangerous on the court.
May then Found out that Renji also has some knowledge in training regimens.
May and Renji then have some cooperation and exchange their thoughts as Renji has some knowledge in being a coach and a trainer.