The morning air carried a quiet tension as the team gathered at the court. It was different from their usual practices—there was no laughter, no casual chatter, no easy confidence in their movements. Instead, there was anticipation, and beneath it, a hint of dread.
Renji stood at the center, a pile of dark, oversized vests laid neatly beside him. They looked ordinary at first glance—baggy, loose, almost comical in appearance—but everyone already knew better. These were not just any training gear.
"These," Renji began, his voice calm but firm, "are weighted vests."
A ripple of reactions spread across the team. Some groaned softly. Others stared in disbelief. A few tried to mask their concern with forced smirks.
"They don't look heavy," one of the forwards muttered.
Renji glanced at him, then gave a faint smile. "Put one on."
That was all it took.
One by one, they stepped forward and picked up the vests. The moment they slipped them over their shoulders, the mood shifted completely. The fabric sagged, the weight dragging down on their bodies like invisible chains. What had seemed light at first suddenly pressed against their muscles with relentless force.
"W-What is this…?" a center grunted, adjusting his stance.
"It's like carrying another person," a guard added, his knees already bending slightly under the pressure.
Renji crossed his arms. "You'll be wearing those for every training session this week."
Silence. Then...
"A whole week?!"
The protest erupted instantly, but Renji didn't waver.
"If you want to get faster, stronger, and sharper," he continued, "you need to force your body beyond its comfort. Right now, you all rely too much on your natural movement. That changes starting today."
May, who stood nearby observing, nodded slightly. Even she seemed impressed by the intensity of the method.
Renji clapped once. "Warm-up. Five laps."
They ran.
Or at least, they tried to.
What was usually a light jog turned into a struggle. Each step felt heavier than the last, their breathing growing uneven before they had even completed the first lap. The vests dragged at their shoulders, their legs resisting every forward push.
By the second lap, the team was already gasping.
By the third, their formation broke apart.
And by the fifth, they staggered to a stop, drenched in sweat far earlier than usual.
Renji observed them silently. There was no mockery in his gaze, only calculation.
"Good," he said simply. "Now we begin."
The drills started with the basics.
Layups.
A simple move, one they had repeated countless times before. Yet now, it felt foreign.
A center stepped forward first, dribbling clumsily as he approached the basket. He planted his foot and jumped.....Or tried to.
Instead of his usual powerful lift, he barely rose off the ground. The ball hit the rim awkwardly and bounced away.
"…That's pathetic," he muttered under his breath.
"Again," Renji said.
Next came the dunkers.
These were players who prided themselves on explosive power, on dominating the rim with authority. One of them charged forward with determination, gripping the ball tightly. He leaped.....
But the result was worse than expected.
He couldn't reach the rim.
His hand brushed the net before he dropped back down, stunned.
"No way…" he whispered, staring at his own hands as if they had betrayed him.
"Again," Renji repeated.
Then the point guards took their turn.
Speed had always been their greatest weapon: quick dribbles, sharp cuts, effortless control. But now, with the added weight, everything slowed.
A guard attempted a crossover.
The ball slipped.
He recovered, tried again....this time slower, heavier. His movements lacked their usual sharpness, each dribble delayed by a fraction of a second that felt painfully noticeable.
"It's like my hands can't keep up…" he said, frustration creeping into his voice.
Renji nodded. "Good. That means you're aware."
The training continued.
Passing drills became sluggish. Defensive slides lost their crispness. Even simple footwork turned into a test of endurance. Every movement demanded more effort, more focus, more willpower.
And as the hours passed, the exhaustion began to show.
Bodies bent forward, hands resting on knees. Sweat dripped onto the hardwood, forming small puddles beneath them. Breathing grew louder, heavier, almost desperate.
Still, Renji didn't stop them. "Again," he would say and they obeyed.
By midday, the team had reached their limit.
Or at least, what they thought was their limit.
"Water break," Renji finally called.
They collapsed onto the floor, some lying flat on their backs, others sitting in silence. No one spoke for a moment. The weight of the vests remained, pressing down on them even as they rested.
"…This is insane," one player muttered.
"We can't play like this," another added. "We're worse than beginners."
Renji stepped forward, his gaze steady.
"That's the point."
They looked up at him.
"You feel slow. Weak. Clumsy," he continued. "Everything you took for granted is gone. That frustration you're feeling? That's what will push you to adapt."
He gestured toward the court.
"When these come off… your body will remember this weight. And when it's gone, you'll move faster than ever before."
Silence followed.
Not disbelief this time, but understanding.
May stepped in beside him, her arms crossed as she studied the team. "He's right. This kind of training forces your muscles to overcompensate. It builds strength and speed at the same time."
Renji gave a small nod. "But only if you endure it."
The team exchanged glances. The complaints faded. In their place, something else began to take root..... "Determination."
Renji clapped again. "Break's over. Back to work."
And so, they continued. Day after day, the routine repeated. Morning runs that felt like climbing mountains. Drills that expose every weakness. Movements that once came naturally now demanded full concentration.
The centers slowly learned to push higher, inch by inch. The dunkers fought to reclaim their vertical, their jumps gradually improving despite the weight.
The guards sharpened their control, forcing their hands to move faster, cleaner, more precise. It wasn't immediate nor easy. But it was working.
By the third day, their bodies began to adjust. By the fifth, their movements, though still heavy, carried more control.
They had changed. On the final day, Renji gathered them once more.
"Take them off."
One by one, they removed the vests.
The moment the weight left their bodies, a strange sensation washed over them. It felt as if they had been unshackled, as if something that had been holding them down had suddenly disappeared.
"Run," Renji said.
They ran.
And this time...They flew.
Their steps were lighter, faster, more explosive. The court seemed smaller, their movements sharper than ever before.
A guard performed a crossover. It was clean, fast and effortless. A dunker charged the rim and soared.
The impact of the dunk echoed loudly, stronger than it had ever been before.
Even the centers found themselves jumping higher, reacting quicker, moving with newfound agility.
Laughter broke out.
Not from ease, but from realization.
They had endured it and grown.
Renji watched them, a faint smile forming on his lips. This was only the beginning.