Avira turned to glance at the Whitewall team still standing on the court, their minds seemingly stuck in the whirlwind pace of the game they’d just played. A lazy smirk tugged at her lips.
At that moment, she looked like an enchanting demon draped in shadows, faint traces of crimson flames flickering behind her, bold and dangerously alluring.
“The feeling of looking down from above… is exhilarating.”
The setting sun filtered through the gym’s windows, enveloping the five boys in white jerseys on the court in a golden glow.
For a fleeting moment, even the air seemed to sparkle with shards of crystal, making them appear untouchable, existing only to be admired from below.
Long after the game ended and the audience had dispersed, the Whitewall players finally began to process what had happened.
“Absolute monsters… It was just as terrifying as playing against Sandfield…”
“That short girl—when she charged head-on, the pressure was like she was draining the blood out of your body. It’s just like facing Cole…”
“And that silver-haired kid—his shots are absurd! He never misses, and it’s like he doesn’t even move. By the time you realize it, the ball’s gone from your hands. His steals are insane!”
“Even George and Orson play completely differently now. Eastwest is just way too strong…”
Listening to the scattered voices of his team, Sam remained seated, his expression as calm and refined as ever.
“Coach, we lost…”
The captain of Whitewall stood before him, the emotion in his face difficult to read. With his head lowered, he spoke cautiously.
Behind him, the other players fell silent, standing in a line, waiting for their coach’s response.
“Losing is normal.”
The unexpected remark, laced with amusement, drifted into the air. Everyone turned to look at Sam in surprise.
He was gazing at the sunset pouring through the gymnasium windows, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“This year’s Eastwest… is aiming for the championship, after all.”
From the moment Asake appeared, he had already anticipated the outcome of this match.
At first, he couldn’t fathom why someone like Asake would join such an infamous team.
But just now, when he saw the No. 7 jersey on the court, it all became crystal clear.
A style of basketball that could break through any defense could only be countered with strength that was equally unmatched.
But entities stronger than that were far too rare.
The current Eastwest was truly formidable.
Perhaps the pinnacle showdown of this year’s national league—when Eastwest faces the reigning champions, Sandfield—would be so spectacular that it might feel like watching a professional league match.
He couldn’t wait.
“Avira, how did that match feel?”
The group of players from Eastwest, still dressed in their team uniforms, drew every eye as they walked through Whitewall Academy.
Orson unabashedly threw his arm around Avira’s shoulder, his expression flashing with a subtle hint of mischief.
The gesture was bold and almost possessive, as though declaring their closeness to everyone around.
“Hmm…”
Avira pressed her lips together thoughtfully. “I prefer playing against Sandfield’s players.”
That was the difference.
The players from Whitewall moved with precision and professionalism, but they were rigid and lacked adaptability. Even if they could defeat many teams, it would be impossible for them to overcome Sandfield.
She thought back to that boy from her last match. In just four plays, he revealed countless possibilities to her.
She couldn’t find the right words to describe him.
But with his actions, he had inadvertently conveyed one thing:
Sandfield was strong.
“Can’t you think about me for once?” Orson interjected with a playful grin, though a trace of dissatisfaction lingered in his tone. “You know my charm multiplies by at least N times when I’m playing, right?”
Avira gave him a lazy glance, yawning as if to dismiss him. “Hmm, no point answering something that’s obvious…”
“…”
At the school gate, Lucas, who had left earlier, was standing by an all-black car. Seeing them approach, he opened the door and bowed slightly toward Avira.
Avira immediately remembered her agreement with Asake—that they could eat cake after the match. She was just about to get into the car when Orson grabbed her arm from behind.
“Avira, are you leaving me behind?”
“Hmm… Ah Orson, you’re not as important as cake.”
“…But what if I get ambushed?”
