The whistle split through the morning air like lightning.
"LINE UP!"
The echo bounced off the gym walls. The players, still sore from yesterday's shock introduction, scrambled into formation. The air smelled of sweat and floor wax, mixed with the faint chill of dawn.
Hikari Aoyama stood at center court clipboard in hand, whistle glinting around her neck, her black tracksuit crisp and neat as if she hadn't sweated once yesterday. Her presence alone silenced chatter.
Yuuto rubbed his eyes, bouncing the ball lazily.
"She doesn't sleep, huh?" he muttered.
Marcus, already stretching, shot him a sharp look.
"She's a coach, not a miracle worker. Focus."
Yuuto smirked. "You sound like her already, Captain."
Marcus ignored the jab. He was focused, but there was something else in his eyes determination and unease. Yesterday, Hikari had pointed out his flaws in front of everyone. Today, he planned to prove himself.
Hikari blew the whistle again.
