The gym floor squeaked under the sneakers, and Taoka Moichi's voice, thick with sweat, boomed: "Fukuda, set those screens more solidly! Stop always trying to front—"
"Yes, Coach," Fukuda replied.
At this moment, Gu Jin was bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath, sweat trickling down his collarbone.
He had just finished ten tactical sprints with the team, his chest still heavy with unspent breaths, but the tips of his ears suddenly felt warm.
When he glanced towards the sideline, his gaze met Shimamura Yoko's—she stood there, her eyes fixed directly on him, without the slightest hint of evasiveness, yet there was no trace of complex emotion in them, only a pure, cold indifference.
Gu Jin's Adam's apple bobbed.
That look of disliking someone was truly blindingly direct.
After all these years together, he never imagined that he and Shimamura Yoko would come to this.
A father's murder, an irreconcilable enmity?
But strictly speaking, what did this have to do with him?
Being made a scapegoat? Being resented?
That could only mean that the affection between them was shallow to begin with.
Gu Jin slowly straightened up, raising a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow.
Forget it!—He no longer cared that much.
Or rather, he was watching himself let go of her, little by little.
The cold gaze from the sideline still lingered on him, but he didn't look back; as he turned to walk towards his teammates, his steps were lighter than before.
At the same time, in a suite at a high-end hotel in the central area of Hiroshima, Fujisawa Eri's knuckles were white as she clutched her phone.
The floor-to-ceiling window was slightly ajar, and the evening breeze carried the sound of cars from downstairs, yet it couldn't mask the urgency in her voice: "Hua Xi, what's the situation? Don't keep me in suspense."
There was a few seconds of silence on the other end, with a faint rustling of papers in the background, followed by Hua Xi's low voice, speaking softly and slowly, as if afraid of being overheard: "I just asked my dad."
Fujisawa Eri held her breath.
Hua Xi's voice dropped even lower, "My dad said... 'The nature of the matter might involve national security.'"
"Then Gu Jin will..." Fujisawa Eri's words caught in her throat; she didn't dare to ask the second half, "be repatriated?"
The other end of the line went silent again, this time the silence was heavier than before.
After a long while, Hua Xi finally sighed softly, a hint of uncertain confusion in her voice: "I don't know."
"My dad said that Gu Jin's permanent residency procedures and documents went through another review recently, and there were no issues at all; they were all processed compliantly," she paused, a complex note entering her tone, "But since his Uncle's matter touches on national security, it can't bypass 'associated review'—he said this review isn't over yet, and according to the rules, this kind of situation can be handled leniently or strictly."
"If the review doesn't find any connection between Gu Jin and his Uncle's matter... after all, his procedures are all in order, maybe it will just be a few more trips for routine questioning, and then it's over."
Hua Xi's voice was light, like a whisper, "But if... even the slightest unclear association is found during the review, even if the procedures are perfectly complete, I'm afraid..."
She didn't continue, but Fujisawa Eri understood the unspoken words.
The wind again slipped through the window crack, causing the glass on the table to lightly rattle.
"My dad told me not to ask too many questions," Hua Xi's voice added a touch of helplessness, "Let's just wait. No one can say for sure right now."
Fujisawa Eri hung up the phone, standing still and staring blankly at the neon lights outside the window.
The phone in her hand still held residual warmth, but her fingertips were cold—"can be handled leniently or strictly," "no one can say for sure," these words hung in her heart, making her heart sink more than a direct "yes" or "no" would have.
The whistle in the gym had just blown, and Gu Jin was almost the first to leave the court and head out of the building.
"Gu Jin, wait a moment," Shimamura Yoko's voice came from behind him.
Gu Jin paused, and when he turned around, his eyebrow slightly raised: "Shimamura, is something wrong?"
The sound of "Shimamura" reaching her ears made Shimamura Yoko's heart inexplicably clench; she tightened her grip on her canvas bag strap before extending the paper bag in her hand forward: "I'm returning the money to you."
"Returning money?" Gu Jin was taken aback, his gaze falling on the paper bag, his tone bewildered, "What money?"
"It's the subsidy the school gave you last time, didn't you give it to me?" Shimamura Yoko's voice softened slightly, her fingertips rubbing the edge of the paper bag, "I haven't touched it; I thought I should still return it to you."
Gu Jin looked at the paper bag for a moment, then waved his hand: "No need. Over the years, the money we've spent on each other is already unclear; consider this money my compensation to you."
"No," Shimamura Yoko gently twisted the hem of her skirt, a hint of stubbornness in her voice, "What was unclear before is one thing, but I haven't touched this sum, it should be returned to you."
Gu Jin looked at her white-knuckled fingers, and after a few seconds of silence, he took the bag, gently squeezing it with his fingertips as he touched it: "Then I'll accept it. If there's nothing else, I'll be going now."
He raised a hand to adjust the strap of his bag on his shoulder, then paused again before turning, his voice a little fainter: "Goodbye, Shimamura."
...Three days later, the dome of the Hiroshima Central Gymnasium was almost torn off by the roar of the crowd.
The colorful sticks in the stands swayed like a flowing wave; the boys in the front row holding a "Sannoh Industrial" banner shouted themselves hoarse, while the girls in the back row wearing Ryonan's blue and white jerseys held megaphones, the names "Sendoh" and "Gu Jin" mixed with whistles falling onto the court.
The warm-up area on the sidelines was already half-encircled by reporters' cameras.
Sannoh's side stirred first—Zawa Kita stood at the three-point line, ball in one hand, and with a light flick of his wrist, the basketball arced, swishing through the net without him even raising an eyelid. He then turned to catch the ball thrown by Kazunari Fukatsu, dribbled with his back to the basket, bumped past Minoru Matsumoto's simulated defense, and tipped the ball off the backboard into the net.
Masashi Kawata flexed his arms and shoulders under the basket, each jump making the floor tremble, and the screens with Mikio Kawata made the air heavy. On the bench, Ichinokura Satoshi was doing shuttle runs with a bowed back, his breathing as regular as a metronome.
Ryonan's warm-up area was at the other end.
Uozumi was stretching, his joints cracking loudly, then turned and bumped shoulders with Sakuragi Hanamichi—Sakuragi was bouncing in place with the ball, his red hair shining brightly under the lights, muttering, "This genius is going to block that Zawa Kita today," before Taoka tapped him on the head, sending him sulkily off to practice shuttle runs.
Gu Jin leaned against the hoop, dribbling the ball, spinning it quickly with his fingertips. Fukuda practiced pull-up jump shots beside him; the ball hit the front rim and bounced back, and Gu Jin reached out to catch it and throw it back. He caught a glimpse of Koshino and Uekusa practicing two-man passing; the sound of their shoes scuffing the floor as they moved, mixed with the cheers from the stands, added a fervent restlessness that was missing from regular practice.
"Gu Jin!" Sendoh walked over, dribbling the ball, and gestured towards Sannoh's side, "Looking at Zawa Kita's stance, it seems he's serious today."
Gu Jin looked up, his gaze meeting Zawa Kita's as he scanned the court after sinking a super-long three-pointer. He squeezed the ball in his hand, a slight curve to his lips, but said nothing. As he turned to walk towards the three-point line, the sound of his sneakers scuffing the floor was heavier than before.