The school basketball court baked under the afternoon sun.
Heat shimmered above the painted concrete, blurring the blue-and-white lines that marked boundaries everyone pretended mattered. The metal hoops stood tall, nets uneven and frayed, swaying slightly in the breeze like they were breathing with the crowd.
Students packed the bleachers—voices overlapping, laughter spilling, shoes scraping against metal steps. The energy was loud, restless, impatient.
But one thing was missing.
Naoki.
His absence sat heavy, noticeable in the way people kept glancing toward the bench as if expecting him to appear late and unapologetic.
Instead, another boy stood on the court.
Eiren.
He adjusted the white bandage wrapped neatly around his wrist, fingers flexing once as if testing memory. His jersey clung to his shoulders, darkened at the collar with sweat already forming. He wasn't flashy. He wasn't smiling.
But he was watching everything.
Every movement. Every opening.
"Iron Vipers!" the referee called.
Cheers rose immediately.
Across from them, the Blue Falcons answered with their own shouts, confidence loud and careless.
The whistle blew.
The ball flew upward.
The game began.
Eiren moved differently from the others.
Where some ran, he calculated.
Where others hesitated, he didn't.
The ball slapped into his hands on a fast pass. He pivoted cleanly, dodging a defender, bandaged wrist steady, eyes sharp.
"Left! Left!" someone shouted.
Eiren ignored it.
He cut right instead, slipping through the smallest gap like he'd seen it before it existed.
The crowd leaned forward.
He jumped.
Released.
The ball arced clean and perfect—
Swish.
The net snapped back.
Cheers exploded.
"Iron Vipers!""That was clean!""Who is that guy?"
Eiren landed smoothly, barely reacting, already backing into position as if scoring was just another step.
On the bleachers, Marvello watched quietly.
She sat still, hands resting in her lap, side bangs slipping over one eye. Her face gave nothing away, but her focus never left the court.
The teacher's whistle cut sharply.
"Marvello."
She looked up.
"You're on water duty," he said, handing her the pack. "Make sure you do your job."
She opened her mouth—
The whistle blew again.
Play paused.
Halftime.
She stepped back into the crowd, water pack heavy against her arms.
Below, Amanda sat with Ji-Hyun beside her.
Ji-Hyun was asleep.
His head tilted back, bangs falling over his eyes, glasses slipping down his nose. His lips were slightly parted, breath slow and even—completely detached from the noise around him.
Amanda nudged him.
"Ji-Hyun."
Nothing.
She sighed and leaned back.
On the court, the teams reset positions.
The ball came in fast.
A pass went wrong.
It spun—wild, uncontrolled—
And flew straight into the bleachers.
The impact was solid.
The ball struck Ji-Hyun's head.
His glasses flew off.
He jolted awake, blinking rapidly, hair fully falling into his face as laughter and gasps burst around him.
"Hey—!" he muttered, rubbing his head.
The whistle screamed.
On the court, Eiren stopped.
Completely.
His breath hitched.
His eyes locked onto Ji-Hyun, sharp and unmoving—not panic, but something heavier.
Responsibility.
Halftime was officially called.
Players rushed toward the sidelines.
Marvello stepped forward with the water pack.
Hands reached for her immediately.
Bottles were taken.
"Thanks.""Appreciate it.""Good."
They drank and moved on.
No eye contact.
No pause.
She remained standing, holding the last bottle.
Then footsteps slowed.
Eiren approached.
Up close, sweat traced his jawline, chest rising and falling from exertion. He stopped at a respectful distance.
"Water?" he asked.
His voice was calm, slightly rough from breathing hard.
Marvello handed it to him.
Their fingers brushed briefly.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing intentional.
He drank deeply, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then looked at her properly.
"Thank you," he said.
Not rushed.
Not careless.
She nodded.
That was all.
Behind the crowd, someone stood abruptly.
Aria Vale had been watching the entire time.
Perfect posture. Styled hair. Confidence worn like a birthright. Her uniform looked effortless, expensive without trying.
Everyone knew her.
Richest girl in school.
Most popular.
And Eiren's girlfriend.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she watched him walk away from Marvello.
Watched the pause.
The attention.
She stood.
The bench scraped loudly.
Students turned.
She descended the steps slowly, deliberately, heels clicking against concrete.
"Excuse me," Aria said.
Marvello turned.
They stood face to face now.
Aria's smile was polite. Sharp. Practiced.
"You seem very involved," Aria said lightly. "For a water girl."
"I was assigned," Marvello replied calmly.
Aria's gaze flicked briefly to the empty bottles, then back to her face.
"My boyfriend doesn't usually slow down for people," she said. "Interesting, isn't it?"
"I handed him water," Marvello said. "That's all."
Aria leaned closer. "He looked at you."
Marvello met her gaze evenly. "Then ask him why."
The whistle blew again.
Players returned to the court.
Eiren glanced toward the sidelines.
For half a second, his eyes met Marvello's.
Aria noticed.
Her smile disappeared.
"Stay in your place," Aria said quietly.
"I am," Marvello replied.
Aria straightened and walked away.
The game resumed.
Eiren wiped his hands on his jersey, focus snapping back into place.
The Iron Vipers surged forward.
He took the ball again.
Jumped.
Scored.
The crowd roared.
But this time—
Nothing felt accidental anymore.
The final minutes burned.
Sweat soaked jerseys. Shoes squealed sharply against concrete. The scoreboard ticked forward, numbers tightening, the crowd rising with every pass.
Iron Vipers were leading now.
Not by luck.
By control.
"Eiren!""Pass, Eiren!""Again!"
He moved like he could hear the court breathing.
A feint. A turn. A fast break.
The ball came back to him one last time.
The Blue Falcons closed in—two defenders, desperate, reckless.
Eiren didn't rush.
He lifted his gaze.
Jumped.
Released.
The ball cut through the air like it already knew where it belonged.
Swish.
The whistle blew.
Long.
Final.
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
Then—
The bleachers exploded.
"Iron Vipers!""They won!""Eiren! Eiren!"
Students stood, stomping, clapping, shouting his name like it had always belonged to victory.
Someone started the chant.
Then another voice joined.
Then many.
The Iron Vipers gathered near the center of the court, arms slung over shoulders, laughing, breathless, alive.
Their animal.
The Black Serpent.
Fast. Quiet. Precise. Deadly only when cornered.
Someone began to sing—off-key at first, then louder.
A simple song. Rough. Earnest.
🎵Black serpent, strike and slide,We don't roar — we win with pride.Fast and sharp, we never bend,Iron Vipers — to the end!🎵
The team laughed, shouted, stomped in rhythm.
"Again!""Sing it again!"
Eiren smiled.
Not wide.
Not loud.
But real.
He tilted his head back and drank the rest of his water in long gulps, throat moving steadily, sweat tracing down his neck.
Across the sidelines, Marvello still stood.
The water pack empty now.
Her arms hung loosely at her sides.
She didn't cheer.
She didn't clap.
She just watched.
Side bangs covering one eye. Expression unreadable. Calm — but not absent.
Human.
Aria Vale stormed onto the court.
Her heels clicked sharply against concrete, cutting through the noise like a blade. She stopped directly in front of Eiren, eyes flashing.
"What was that?" she snapped, low but sharp. "You embarrassed me."
Eiren lowered the bottle slowly.
Looked at her.
And smiled.
It wasn't mocking.
It wasn't apologetic.
It was… calm.
"Relax," he said. "We won."
"That's not the point," Aria hissed. "You don't slow down for other girls. You don't look at them. You don't—"
"I wasn't looking," Eiren said gently. "I was playing."
Aria stiffened.
Her control cracked for half a second.
She followed his gaze.
Saw Marvello still standing there.
Still.
Unmoved.
That smile on Eiren's face didn't fade.
It stayed — quiet, unreadable, settled.
The Iron Vipers' chant rose again behind them.
Eiren stepped past Aria, rejoining his team.
The Black Serpent coiled tighter.
And for the first time—
Aria realized something had slipped from her grip.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
But permanently.