The world slowed.
Not gently.
Not cleanly.
It fractured.
Yuuto didn't hear the crowd anymore. The roar collapsed into a distant hum, like sound underwater. The scoreboard blurred. Even his own breathing faded into something abstract—an idea rather than a sensation.
What remained was motion.
Ryu stood in front of him at the top of the key, dribbling with that same unhurried rhythm. King of the Court pacing. Not fast. Not slow. Perfectly calibrated to the heartbeat of the game.
Normally, Yuuto would be reacting.
Now—
He saw something.
Not clearly. Not fully.
But enough.
A flicker.
A shadow of movement that hadn't happened yet.
Ryu's right foot angled inward.
Left shoulder dipped.
The dribble wanted to cross over—but not yet.
Yuuto's pupils shrank.
…That's next.
His chest tightened violently.
Pain flared behind his eyes.
The vision shattered.
Ryu moved.
The crossover came exactly where Yuuto had seen it.
And Yuuto was already there.
