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The sound of sneakers scuffed against the court as Horizon High walked into the locker room, a team bruised more by rhythm than score.
No one spoke at first.
Rikuya slumped onto the bench, sweat running down his cheek like tears no one would ever admit to. His jersey clung to him like a weighted vest, soaked and sagging from the war in the paint. His chest rose and fell slowly, but heavily—like he was learning how to breathe again.
Taiga sat beside him, silent.
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