If Haruka hadn't seen what real violence looked like that Friday night, she might've thought this basketball match was a battlefield. The Todo boys looked older, rougher, and meaner than her team. And they played dirty.

The moment she saw their captain come in with a bruised face and swollen lip, a wave of recognition hit her. It was the same guy who'd cornered her at karaoke. The jerk. Served him right. A knot twisted in her stomach, though. Would the Todo boys resort to more than cheap shots on the court today?

Hiro had been horrified when he first saw them. Even though Chibi had filled him in on what had gone down, Haruka suspected he'd left out a lot of details. Over the weekend, Hiro had called, sounding more relieved than anything that she hadn't been hurt. He'd apologized for not being there—like it was his fault. She'd told him to stop worrying.

But now, on the court, things were different. This was war.

The game started off with more fouls than points. Todo came in hard, pushing, elbowing, taking cheap shots every time the ref wasn't looking. The tension was palpable, hanging over the court like a storm cloud ready to burst.

Haruka watched from the sidelines, biting her lip so hard she tasted copper. She'd never seen Hiro with such a steely look in his eyes before. But there was something else too—something that made her chest tighten. Uncertainty.

"What is wrong with these boys today?" Coach Tanaka muttered, scratching his head. He didn't seem to understand the full extent of the animosity. The ref was letting too much slide, and it was clear Todo was using it to their advantage.

Haruka swallowed hard. They were losing focus. If they let themselves get drawn into Todo's dirty play, they'd lose, both the game and their composure. She glanced at Hiro, who was watching the scoreboard tick, his fists clenched. He must've felt her eyes on him, because he looked over, catching her worried expression. Something seemed to click in him.

"Ji-Yong!" Hiro called out, jogging over to his teammate. "Chibi, Daisuke—let's switch gears."

Whatever he said in that huddle must've worked because, within minutes, the team's momentum shifted. They started playing smarter, not just harder. Ji-Yong cut through the court like a blade, his passes sharp, his focus unwavering. Chibi's defence was relentless. Daisuke had regained his stride, moving faster than the Todo players could catch up with.

In just five minutes, they pulled ahead by seven points.

The Todo boys grew more frustrated, their elbows sharper, their fouls more obvious. Haruka cringed every time one of them shoved Hiro or Chibi, her nails digging into her palms. She had to keep herself from yelling out in frustration. If the boys retaliated, they could be benched—or worse.

"Daisuke!" she shouted, just as he was running past her. "Don't give in to their tactics! Focus!"

He gave her a brief nod, though she saw the frustration boiling beneath the surface. All of them were close to snapping. But none of them as close as Ji-Yong.

***

At halftime, Ji-Yong couldn't hold it in any longer in the locker room.

"These guys are dicks! They've been asking for it since the start!" His voice echoed off the tiled walls, his fists clenched, pacing like a caged animal. His teammates sat in silence, the tension suffocating.

Hiro splashed water on his face, breathing hard. "We're better than that. You think I don't want to deck a couple of them? Believe me, I do. But winning—fairly—is more important."

Ji-Yong stared at him, incredulous. "Are you serious? They're walking all over us out there!"

"We're playing them, not fighting them," Hiro snapped back, wiping his face with a towel. "The game's still ours. Focus on that."

"They don't care about the game. They care about making us look weak!" Ji-Yong growled, his eyes burning with frustration. "We look weak!"

"Better to win and look weak than to lose our heads and be benched. You heard what Haruka said." Hiro's voice had a cold edge to it now. "Or can't you keep the delinquent in check long enough to finish a game?"

The jab hit Ji-Yong like a punch to the gut. His mind flashed back to the karaoke night—the memory of that Todo captain leering at Haruka, cornering her—and his fists clenched tighter. I was the one who saved her. Where were you?

But he bit back the words. Now wasn't the time.

The locker room was stifling, the air thick with unspoken resentment. His teammates shifted uncomfortably, their gazes flicking between him and Hiro. No one dared say a word, but Ji-Yong could feel it. They agreed with him. The Todo boys were punks, and they were letting them get away with it.

But Ji-Yong couldn't argue with Hiro anymore. Not here. Not now. His uncle's voice echoed in his head: "You're on thin ice. One wrong move and you're out."

He let out a slow breath, forcing himself to calm down. The match wasn't a brawl. He couldn't afford to slip. Not again.

***

As the second half began, Ji-Yong stepped back onto the court, his teeth gritted. His body hummed with pent-up aggression, but he kept it in check. Barely.

The Todo players were still trying to provoke him, sneering, elbowing him in the ribs whenever the ref wasn't looking. One guy in particular—the same bastard who'd been taunting him all game—kept trying to knock him off his rhythm.

But this time, Ji-Yong didn't bite.

With only minutes left on the clock, Ji-Yong found himself face-to-face with the player who had been antagonising him the whole match. Without hesitation, he executed a flawless crossover dribble, leaving the defender stumbling in his wake. He charged forward, jumping for the shot, the Todo players scrambling to block him.

The ball arced perfectly through the air, spinning as if in slow motion.

Swish.

The net snapped as the ball sank through, clean and precise. The crowd erupted in cheers, a roar that reverberated through Ji-Yong's chest. His teammates rallied around him, clapping him on the back, their spirits lifted by his play.

For the first time that game, Ji-Yong smiled.