The jump ball didn't feel like a reset.
It felt like a challenge.
Marcus crouched low, eyes locked on the ball spinning between them, chest still rising and falling from the last collision. Hiroto mirrored him across the circle, posture loose, shoulders relaxed, as if this were nothing more than another possession.
The referee tossed the ball.
Both jumped.
Neither won clean.
The ball tipped sideways, skidding toward the sideline. Bodies converged. Hands slapped hardwood. Sneakers screeched.
Ugly.
Yuuto dove first, sliding on his hip, fingertips grazing leather. Minato crashed in next, knocking the ball loose again. It popped up—free for half a heartbeat—
—and Marcus snatched it mid-air.
No hesitation.
He pivoted and fired the outlet pass to Yuuto already sprinting upcourt.
"Push!" Coach Hikari barked.
