Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Since young, Jungeun has always had a bit of a temper. 

The issue was first brought up by her preschool teacher, who snitched and told her parents about how she punched a boy for breaking her favourite pencil. In hindsight, it really wasn’t that serious. But in Jungeun’s mind, the little shit completely deserved it. 

Eleven years on, and on the first day of her second year in high school, Jungeun feels like punching someone again. 

“Quit?! What do you mean you quit?!” 

If looks could kill, Eunseo would already be dead. She visibly quivers under the combined weight of Jungeun and Heejin’s murderous glares. 

“Y-you heard me,” Eunseo defiantly crosses her arms over her chest, unwilling to back down. “I’m quitting the basketball team.” 

“I thought you loved basketball! What the hell are you thinking?” Jungeun admonishes. 

Eunseo puts up her hands in a placating gesture. “Look, I know you’re upset-”

“Gee, I wonder where you got that idea?” Jungeun yells while jabbing at her downturned eyebrows. 

“The whole team fucking quit, Jungeun!” Eunseo yells back, stunning Jungeun into silence. Even Heejin’s eyes are wide in shock. “Eunji, Boram, Cathy, Chaeyoung, they all fucking quit! Why are you only taking it out on me?!”

Jungeun struggles to regain her composure. “But- I thought you said we were gonna be good this-”

Eunseo laughs in her face. “Did you seriously believe that? We were so unbelievably horrible last year, what makes you think anything’s gonna change this year?” 

“Face it, Jungeun. We suck massive balls. I’m not gonna waste my time busting my ass off in practice just to lose the only fucking competitive game we’ll play all year. Besides, I’m done being the laughingstock of the whole fucking school,” Eunseo huffs in annoyance. “Now piss off, and if you ever talk to me about joining the basketball team again, I will fucking... ‘hamelamela’ you into the stratosphere. Don’t test me.”

“Umm… it’s actually ‘kamehameha’-”

“Shut the fuck up, Heejin.” 

With one last flash of the middle finger, Eunseo turns to leave and bangs her shin on the leg of a nearby table. 

“FUCK!” She furiously rubs her shin before storming out of the room. 

“Wow, I’ve never heard Eunseo swear until now. You really pissed her off this time,” Heejin comments.

Jungeun resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Thanks for stating the obvious, I guess.” 

“I think you might’ve gone a little too far though…”

Suppressing a sigh, Jungeun hoists her bag over her shoulder. “Let’s just go.” 

She turns to Heejin, suddenly feeling apprehensive. If Eunseo and the rest of the team quit without even telling her, there’s no telling if Heejin is part of that pact. “You are coming to practice with me, right?”

“Of course! I’ve been working on my Phantom Drive Shot all summer. It’d be such a waste if I didn’t get to show it off!” Heejin rambles on about the skills she meticulously honed over the holidays, and how ready she is to lead the team to glory. 

“...I’ve been trying to enter my “Zone”, but I can’t seem to do it for some reason. Maybe I should try eating more spicy food?”

Jungeun doesn’t have the slightest idea of what Heejin is talking about. She opts to stare blankly. 

“...Right.”

“You’ll see!” 

After changing into their gym attire, Jungeun and Heejin step into the school gymnasium. In a school as small as LOONA High, space is always at a premium. On a normal day, the basketball, volleyball, and badminton teams split the six courts equally among themselves. However, with the recent mass exodus of the basketball team, the volleyball and badminton players seem to have taken over much of the space. 

It takes a while, but Jungeun finally spots a confused-looking Jinsol standing off to the side of the gym.

Jinsol instantly brightens up when she spots Jungeun and Heejin. “There you are!” Jinsol pads over to them, golden locks bouncing in time with her steps. “Where is everyone? I was wondering if I got teleported into an alternate dimension where the basketball team never existed or something.”

Jungeun heaves a heavy sigh. “Well, you’re not entirely wrong.” 

“Most of the team quit without telling us,” Heejin looks around the gym. “And why is the volleyball team using our court?” 

“They told me Mister Jeong let them use it,” Jinsol replies. 

“Then tell them to go away! It’s our court!” Jungeun fumes. 

“I can’t really go against a teacher’s word, Jungie,” Jinsol says, scratching her cheek nervously. 

Irritation creeps into Jungeun’s heart, scraping against her skin. Every little thing her girlfriend does seems to be pissing her off lately, and she can’t seem to figure out why. One thing she absolutely hates about Jinsol is how unassertive she is, and how willing she is to bow to other people's demands. 

“God, you are such a pussy,” Jungeun mutters. 

Jinsol’s lips morph into a deep frown. “What do you expect me to do? I already said-” 

“Hey, what are you guys doing here?” 

The trio turns around. Two boys stand before them, decked out in their volleyball uniforms. Recognising them as Jangjun and Bomin, Jungeun wrinkles her nose distastefully.

“We’re gonna practice,” She says curtly. “What do you want?” 

“Practice?” Jangjun cocks his eyebrows questioningly before his eyes flicker in realisation. “Oh! You’re from the basketball team.” 

Bomin scoffs. “Seriously? I thought you guys would’ve disbanded by now.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Heejin asks, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

“Look. No offence, but you guys suck balls. Everyone knows it. The entire school knows it. Surely you guys must know it too.” 

“What the fuck did you say?” Jungeun bristles and takes a step forward, but Jinsol sticks out an arm, holding her back. 

She glares at Jinsol, who gently shakes her head, as if advising her against picking a fight. 

“So you’re just gonna let them talk shit about the team?!” Jungeun seethes, and Jinsol cowers under her burning gaze. 

“N-no! I just think you should calm down,” Jinsol whispers back. “And besides, they’re kind of right…” 

Bomin has an infuriating shit-eating grin on his face. “I heard a bunch of members quit, and that the team is in deep shit. The school must really like wasting all that time and money on you guys for nothing.” 

“Dude, stop being an asshole,” Jangjun chides, but Jungeun doesn’t like the way he snickers while doing it. 

“What? I’m just stating facts, aren’t I?” Bomin shoots back.

Rolling his eyes, Jangjun turns back to face the trio. “Anyway, you guys need to clear out. As you can see, we’re practicing, and you’re kinda getting in the way.” 

If there’s one thing people should know about Jungeun, it’s that she takes no shit from others, and she doesn’t take very kindly to disrespect.

“What gives you the right to push us around? Not like the volleyball team is doing any better!” Jungeun says angrily.

“At least our team can win games. How many games has the basketball team won? Let’s see…” Bomin makes a show of counting with his fingers. He smirks triumphantly. “Oh! That’s right, not a single one.” 

A flash of hot white anger bursts through Jungeun. Her hands are balled into fists, so tightly that her arms begin to shake. If she had a penny for every time she felt like punching someone today, she’d have two pennies. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice. 

“What, you gonna hit me or something?” Bomin goads her, leaning forward slightly, extending an invitation for her fist to meet his cheek. He lets out a mocking sigh. “I guess they were right about you, Kim Jungeun. You haven’t changed at all.” 

“That’s it, I’m gonna fucking kill him.” 

In one swift motion, Jungeun steps forward and grabs the front of Bomin’s shirt. She pulls back her fist, preparing to swing.

“J-Jungie!” Heejin exclaims. But it’s no use. All Jungeun can focus on is how much she’d like to put a permanent dent into Bomin’s stupid face. 

Well, she was just about to, until a strong hand latches onto her wrist from behind. 

“What is going on here?” 

Jungeun whirls around, coming face-to-face with Ha Sooyoung, a student council member and perhaps more relevantly, the captain of the basketball team. She lets go of Bomin’s shirt in surprise. 

Sooyoung gives her a hard look, thin lips pulled into a grim line, facial expression unreadable. 

“Hi, Soo! One of your team members just tried to kill me,” Bomin says with a cheeky grin. 

“T-that bastard started it first!” Jungeun splutters.

“I don’t care who started it,” Sooyoung says calmly. She turns to Jangjun and Bomin, who shrink under her scrutinising gaze. “Please return to your own court. Mister Jeong allocated this one to us.” 

“S-seriously? I thought he gave both of the basketball team’s courts to us, haha… Alright Bomin, let’s go,” Jangjun quickly defers to Sooyoung, and makes his way back to their own court, trying to drag Bomin along with him. 

However, Bomin doesn’t budge. “C’mon Soo, I know you’re smarter than this. The basketball team is a freaking joke. Don’t you think you’re just wasting your time?” 

A tense silence descends upon the court. Jungeun can feel her heart hammering against her chest, still high off the adrenaline of almost socking Bomin in the eye. One day, Jungeun. One day. 

“How I spend my time is of no concern to you,” Sooyoung replies coolly. “And don’t call me Soo. We are not friends.” 

Bomin’s lips curl into a nasty snarl. “Whatever, man. I got better things to do anyway, like playing for a sports team that’s actually competitive.” 

“Uh, Bomin? You didn’t even make the starting lineup last year…” Jangjun points out sheepishly.

“S-shut up!” Bomin shouts, dragging Jangjun along as they scurry away, finally leaving them alone. 

“I’m still gonna kill that fucker,” Jungeun mutters. 

“But Jungie, killing isn’t the ninja way…” Heejin says worriedly. They eventually turn around to face Sooyoung, who does a headcount of the number of people gathered in front of her. It doesn’t take long, considering there’s only three of them. 

“Good, it seems like everybody is here,” Sooyoung says without a shred of emotion in her voice. 

Jungeun chokes on air. She looks around. It’s only Heejin, Jinsol, Sooyoung, and herself. According to Sooyoung, they are all that remain of LOONA High School’s basketball team. “You’re joking, right?” 

Turning slowly to face Jungeun, Sooyoung directs a finger towards her own expressionless face. “Do I look like I’m joking?” 

Jungeun swallows hard. She shakes her head. To be totally honest, she really isn’t that close to Sooyoung. Come to think of it, she doesn’t think anyone is close to Sooyoung. It would be tactful not to get on another person’s bad side. She’s already made enough enemies to last several lifetimes. 

“Anyway, before we start today’s practice, let me introduce myself. If you didn’t know me already, I’m Ha Sooyoung, and I’ll be the team captain for this year.” She nods her head toward Jinsol. “By virtue of being the only other third-year on this team, Jinsol will be the vice-captain.” 

Jinsol’s eyes widen to the size of saucers. “Me?!” 

“Her?!” Jungeun exclaims in disbelief. 

“Woohoo! Nice one, Jinsol!” Heejin claps her hands and cheers, completely oblivious to the direness of their current situation. 

Sooyoung ignores all of them. “Now that’s out of the way, I just came back from a meeting with Mister Jeong,” Her face darkens. “I have good news and bad news. Which would you rather hear first?” 

“The… good news, I guess?” Jinsol replies. 

“The good news is Coach Yang has retired from coaching, so he won’t be our coach starting this year onwards.” 

Jungeun suppresses the urge to cheer. Coach Yang was a massive piece of shit. He was always a stickler for seniority. During their only competitive game last year, he completely neglected to play the first years and second years, instead giving the third years every available minute. 

It’s a testament to his coaching skill that they lost that particular game by forty points. 

Combined with his ridiculous conditioning program which consisted of an hour of squats and forward bends, and the multiple times he was caught trying to peek into the girls’ locker room, it’s no wonder he “retired” from coaching this year. Jungeun is glad to finally see the back of that useless sleazebag. 

Heejin perks up at the news of Coach Yang’s departure. “Hey! That’s actually really good-”

“The bad news is we don’t have a coach. Not to mention, we recently had a bunch of members quit the team. We require a minimum of eight players to be eligible for competitive games. We currently have four. Also, Miss Honda is pregnant, and she’ll be missing half of the school year, so we don’t have a teacher-advisor anymore either.”

Sooyoung takes a sharp breath before resuming her sharing of the bad news, which is turning out to be significantly more substantial than the good news.

“Mister Jeong just told me that owing to the team’s poor performance over the years, he cannot justify providing us with any more support, be it in a monetary or sporting context. He has cut all funding to the team. We will have to arrange our own transportation to matches. Defective equipment will not be replaced. Any activities that cost money will have to be settled on our own. He has also given one of our courts to the volleyball team, citing their higher level of ability and importance to the school.”

Massages her forehead, Sooyoung grimaces. “He has given us until Friday to find a new coach, a new teacher-advisor, and enough members to fill out the squad. If we don’t accomplish this by the deadline, he’s going to disband the team.” 

Jungeun feels her blood go cold. This was definitely not the news she was expecting during her first basketball practice of the year. And to think that she was so looking forward to finally being able to play in competitive games as well. 

“Oh,” Heejin croaks, all traces of her former optimism now gone.

“Any questions?” Jinsol, Jungeun, and Heejin exchange worried looks, but they don’t say anything. There’s nothing to clarify, really. If they don’t find four new teammates, a new coach, and a new teacher-advisor by Friday, the basketball team will be forced to disband. 

Sooyoung clears her throat. “Okay then, the three of you can start warming up. I have some council stuff to settle, so I’ll join you later.” 

After watching Sooyoung leave, Jungeun puts her head in her hands and groans loudly. 

“What are we going to do? There’s no way we're gonna find all these people in time. And we don’t even have any money. We’re screwed, we’re totally screwed!” 

“C’mon Jungie, have some faith!” Jinsol reaches over to place a hand on Jungeun’s shoulder. “Things will be okay. Sooyoung will figure something out. I’m sure of it.” 

As far as shitty situations go, this is definitely up there. Jungeun struggles to wrap her head around their new reality. Their lack of funding from this lousy excuse of a school. The preferential treatment for other sports teams. The blatant mistreatment of their own team. The complete unfairness of it all. Just thinking about it makes Jungeun’s blood boil. 

She especially hates the staring. The mocking looks that the volleyball team sends their way. The wary eyes from every angle of the gym. Hushed whispers and giggling. Ridiculing them. Looking down on them. 

Jungeun has always known about the basketball team’s misfortunes, and their less-than-desirable reputation. She didn’t let it stop her from joining. Her idealistic past self was determined to make the school proud, and earn the team some much-needed respect.

But after a year of snide remarks and crushing disappointment, she realises just how difficult it is to be a member of LOONA High’s basketball team. Worse still, the trials that lie ahead are incredibly daunting, and dare she say it? Impossible to overcome. 

“Yo, check me out!” With a basketball in her hands, Heejin aims for the basket and shapes up to shoot. If she’s worried about the team’s impending disbandment, she’s doing a very good job of not showing it.

“Phantom Drive Shot!” She lets the ball fly from her hands. It misses the basket completely and pathetically bounces away. 

Heejin shrugs, her face as red as a tomato. “...I’m still working on it.”

Jungeun sighs. This is going to be a rough week. 

Chapter Text

After waking up from her routine nap in maths class, Chaewon is greeted by the sight of Heejin’s enormous face staring straight into her soul. 

“Woah! Too close.” Chaewon leans back against her chair and nearly falls over. 

“You drool in your sleep,” Heejin points at the residual dribble clinging to Chaewon’s chin. 

Chaewon swipes at her chin with the back of her hand, wipes away the drool on her skirt. “You should’ve woken me up.”

“It’s okay! You didn’t really miss much. I’ll let you copy my notes at lunch,” Heejin says with a wink. Chaewon breathes a sigh of relief. If Heejin wasn’t there to save her ass, there was no way she would’ve passed her final exams last year. 

“Good morning! Earth to Wonwon! Yoohoo!” Chaewon jumps when Jiwoo yells into her ear, furiously rattling her chair for good measure. “Are you awake now?!” 

It takes a moment for Chaewon’s hearing to return. “Yes. Thanks for almost turning me deaf.”

“You’re welcome! Just making sure! What are friends for, am I right?!” Jiwoo screams into her ear again. Chaewon gently pushes her face away. 

“You should sleep earlier,” Jungeun lounges in her seat, looking unimpressed. “You were up late playing games again, weren’t you?”

“In my defence, it was the last day before the rank reset,” Chaewon replies tiredly. The details of her late night rank-up sessions are between herself and God. 

“Don’t worry about her, Wonwon! Jungie’s just being a big baby. She still goes to bed at ten pm every night!” Jiwoo stifles a laugh. 

Jungeun furrows her eyebrows. “You’re saying it like that’s a bad thing! I get grumpy if I don’t get enough sleep.”

“Jungie, you’re grumpy like, literally all the time,” Heejin points out. 

“Only because Jiwoo’s always so damn noisy in the morning.” 

“Huh, that’s a fair point.” 

Chaewon shrugs nonchalantly. “Jiwoo things.”

“Wow, Jungie! Can’t believe my best friend would switch up on me like that!” Jiwoo shakes her head and wags her finger at an irate Jungeun. “Anyway, you said there was something you wanted to ask me and Wonwon?” 

Chaewon sits up straighter in her seat, pretending that she knows something about this. Truth be told, she hasn’t checked their group chat in three days. About 95% of the five hundred unread messages are from Heejin ranting about anime or Jiwoo spamming cute stickers. She figured that she hadn’t missed much. 

“Oh, right,” Jungeun clears her throat and gestures to Heejin. “Heejin, if you will.” 

Heejin dramatically flings herself forward and grovels at the feet of Chaewon and Jiwoo. 

“Please join the basketball team with us!”

“What the fuck?” Chaewon recoils in her seat. She is so confused right now. 

“I wasn’t aware of that part,” Jungeun mutters. “Get up, you fucking idiot,” Heejin scrambles to her feet, suddenly aware of the numerous pairs of bewildered eyes now trained on her. 

“I just thought I’d appeal to their emotions a bit! You know, pathos and all that stuff,” Heejin says sheepishly. 

“You just wanted an excuse to do some weird anime shit again. God, you’re so…” Jungeun runs a hand over her face before turning to Jiwoo and Chaewon. “Look, our basketball team is fucking screwed. A bunch of members just quit and we don’t have enough players to field a team.”

“But Jungie, Wonwon and I don’t even play basketball…” Chaewon nods along to Jiwoo’s sentiment. She’s never been much of an athlete, preferring to hide in her air-conditioned room and play games all day like the little gremlin she is. 

“We just need members to fill out the roster. You won’t be required to play in any games. All you have to do is show up for practice. Hell, you don’t even have to touch the ball if you don’t want to.” 

Chaewon’s heart is screaming at her to decline the invitation. But when she sees the desperation in Jungeun’s and Heejin’s eyes, she can’t help but feel a little bad. Besides, it’s not like she has anything better to do. And she does owe Heejin for helping her in her studies. 

“Can I bring my Switch to practice?” Chaewon asks timidly. 

Jungeun perks up at the question. “You can bring your entire room to practice for all I care.” 

“So you’ll join?” Heejin asks, her eyes widening hopefully. 

Chaewon shrugs. “Yeah, count me in.” 

“Nice!” Heejin wraps her arms around Chaewon and Jungeun roughly tussles her hair. Chaewon squirms against their combined assault. She usually doesn’t appreciate having her personal space invaded, but she’ll give her friends a free pass, just this once. 

“Jiwoo, you in?” All eyes turn to Jiwoo, who isn’t smiling anymore. Her face is contorted into a weird expression, and she looks uncharacteristically uncertain. 

“What days do you usually have practice?” Jiwoo asks, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. 

“Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Why?” Jungeun replies, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

“Aw, that’s too bad!” Jiwoo raps a fist on the top of her head. “I have social club on Wednesdays and Fridays. I don’t think I can make it. Sorry!” 

Jungeun bangs her fist on the table, making everyone jump. “Fuck your stupid ass club! What the hell do you do in social club anyways?!”

“I-I socialise, duh!” Jiwoo sighs heavily. “Look, the people at social club won’t like it if I skip the meetings. You know what they’re like!” 

“But we’re your best friends!” Heejin pouts. 

“Yeah, Jiwoo. What’s more important; a bunch of dumb tiktok kids, or the people who’ve been with you since the start? Your ride-or-dies, your forever twenty ones, the people who you know would run through a burning building to save your ass?” 

“Wow, you’re pretty good at this pathos thing,” Heejin holds out her hand to give Jungeun a high-five, which she returns with earnest. 

“I’m not running through a burning building for anybody, just saying,” Chaewon mutters. 

Jiwoo still looks unsure, but it’s clear that she’s beginning to waver. “I don’t know…” 

Pouncing on Jiwoo’s uncertainty, Jungeun presses the advantage. “Just come to one practice. You can watch from the side if you aren’t sure about joining. But I promise that you won’t regret it.” 

“We’re gonna have so much fun together! C’mon, Jiwoo. You know you want to join the team with us,” Heejin insists.

Chaewon feels Heejin and Jungeun’s eyes on her, silently willing her to land the killing blow. 

“You can play Mario Kart with me?” Chaewon offers weakly. 

That seems to do the trick for Jiwoo, as she breaks into a big smile. “I guess I can’t say no to that! You can count me in as well! Group hug!” 

Without waiting, Jiwoo flings her arms out and pulls them in. Jungeun and Heejin fall on top of Chaewon, who is the only one still seated. They inevitably end up in a tangled mess of limbs on the floor. 

“Damn it, Jiwoo!” Jungeun fumes, shoving Heejin’s leg off her stomach. 

Chaewon groans under the combined weight of her three closest friends. This is going to be an unmitigated disaster. 

-

The library is completely packed during lunch time. Luckily, Jinsol manages to find a vacant study cubicle, where she quickly sets down her stack of books and notes. She’s in her third year now. There’s no more time to waste. If she wants to stand a chance of winning a university spot in the city, she’ll have to work harder than she’s ever worked before.

Opening up one of her textbooks, Jinsol tries her best to focus, but the words on the pages swim past her vision, and she feels her mind wandering elsewhere. 

The city. It’s a place her parents have been talking about ever since she entered junior high. A sprawling metropolis with skyscrapers and traffic jams and coffee shops that stretch from block to block. As the years passed, the discussions only grew in frequency and intensity. Sometimes, it seems as though this is as much her parents’ dream as it is hers, if not more.

Some nights, she questions if she even wants to leave everything behind and go to the city. After all, she’s built an entire life here. Her friends, her family, her girlfriend… 

Jinsol sighs. She’ll be the first one to admit that she hasn’t been spending as much time with Jungeun as she should. Jungeun is probably still hurting from the multiple dates Jinsol had to cancel over the holidays, as her parents kept her locked in the house and glued to her desk. Staying on the team was the compromise, although Jinsol was seriously contemplating joining the rest of the players who quit. Jungeun doesn’t need to know that, though. 

It’s an unending cycle of unrealistic expectations and conflicts of interest. Sometimes, Jinsol wonders if she’s even in control of her own life. 

She doesn’t realise how long she’s been day-dreaming until she feels a heavy weight rest on the top of her head. Recoiling in surprise, Jinsol relaxes when she realises it’s only Sooyoung.

“What’s up?” Jinsol asks casually. Sooyoung sinks to the floor and rests her cheek on the table. She lets out a low groan. 

“I fucking hate my life,” Sooyoung moans. She looks exhausted, the stress accumulating in the form of heavy eyebags under her eyes. 

Being Sooyoung must be tough. Jinsol can’t imagine being a member of their dysfunctional student council, being the captain of a basketball team on the verge of disbandment, all while maintaining her grades and keeping up her flawless posture in front of the rest of the school. 

“You’re not looking so hot,” Jinsol chuckles lightly. 

“Gee, you think?” Sooyoung struggles to lift her head off the table, grimacing as she massages her temples. “Fuck, I need an Adderall. Or maybe a coffee. That council meeting almost gave me an aneurysm. How the hell do you manage to gather so many idiots in one room?” 

“Wow, can’t believe you finally admitted to me that you’re an idiot.” 

“Obviously, I’m the only exception.”

“I figured you’d say that.” 

“Yeah, because I’m not an idiot, am I?”

“I don’t know, are you?” 

“I'm not in the mood for this right now, are you gonna comfort me or not?” Sooyoung’s tone is grave, but a small smile manages to make its way onto her face. 

Jinsol laughs. She’s been best friends with Sooyoung since pre-school, so she knows how Sooyoung ticks. It’s given her a lot of useful blackmail material over the years. She’s been saving it in case she ever needs to use it. 

“Okay, okay,” Jinsol reaches out and runs her fingers through Sooyoung’s hair, hearing her sigh in relief as she relaxes her shoulders. To the rest of the school, Ha Sooyoung is a robot. Infallible, cool, composed. Jinsol likes to believe that only she gets to see this side of Sooyoung. Stressed out, constantly done with people’s bullshit, and honestly just in need of a hug. 

“So, any progress on trying to save the basketball team from disbandment?” Jinsol inquires, earning another loud groan from Sooyoung. 

“Can you not? I have ninety-nine problems and the basketball team is like, eighty-four of them.” 

“Oddly specific number.” 

“Tell me about it,” Sooyoung shoots her a dirty look. “You know, as my vice-captain, you’re not doing much to help out at all.” 

“First off, I didn’t sign up for this. Second of all,” Jinsol nods towards the stack of books on the table. “I need to study.” 

Sooyoung looks unimpressed. “You’re horrible.”

“What do you mean?!” 

“I said what I said,” Sooyoung deadpans. “Anyway, I put up the signup form on the noticeboard. Hopefully we can get a couple of first years to join our team, that’ll be nice.”

“I didn’t know you liked kids, Sooyoung. But it does explain a lot.” 

“For fuck's sake, can you not?” Sooyoung furiously slaps Jinsol on the shoulder. 

Jinsol grins. “I won’t be surprised if you end up dating a junior.” 

“Yeah, that’s definitely not happening,” Sooyoung says dismissively. “As for finding a coach, I’m… working on it. It’s not going too well, though. I’ve been asking every single teacher I know to be our teacher-advisor, but they’re either already attached to another club, or they’re just not interested in helping us. Well, there is a bit of good news. Jungeun texted me just now, she told me that-” 

At the mention of Jungeun’s name, Jinsol’s eyes shoot out of their sockets. 

“Shit! Jungeun!” Scrambling for her phone, Jinsol’s heart sinks at the numerous missed calls and angry messages from Jungeun blowing up her notifications screen. She was supposed to meet Jungeun for lunch over half an hour ago. 

She’s really done it now. 

Looking over her shoulder, Sooyoung lets out a low whistle. “Seems like somebody’s sleeping on the couch tonight.” 

“I have to go,” Ignoring Sooyoung’s subtle jabs about divorce papers and prenuptial agreements, Jinsol hurriedly gathers her things and makes a beeline for the door. 

“Are you gonna let Jungeun keep the dog? What about the- Oh. Hello. Yes. How can I help you?” Sparing a glance behind her, Jinsol spots Sooyoung talking to a couple of students. The smug joy from her face is completely gone, instead replaced by the signature stone mask she uses whenever she’s talking to anyone other than Jinsol. 

Jinsol can’t help but feel a little bad for her. She wonders how long Sooyoung can keep up the act before the mask finally cracks. 

“Where the hell have you been?” Jungeun demands as Jinsol runs towards her, huffing and puffing. 

“Sorry- I got caught up-” 

“Oh, of course. You got caught up. Again. Must be something really important, huh? So important that you couldn’t respond to your girlfriend’s messages and made her wait for over half an hour.” 

A twinge of irritation stirs in Jinsol’s chest. She hates how Jungeun is always so quick to anger. Jinsol is getting tired of never getting the chance to explain herself. “Jungie, come on, that’s not fair-” 

“You know what’s not fair?!” Jungeun forcefully jabs a finger at Jinsol’s chest. “You. You aren’t fucking fair. Trying to dodge me, cancel on me, finding any excuse not to meet me. All I want to do is spend time with my girlfriend, but I’m the one who isn’t fair?!

The bell rings, signalling the end of lunch period. 

“Oh, would you look at that. Lunch is fucking over. Thanks for spending time with me, asshole,” Jungeun huffs and begins to walk away from Jinsol.

Jinsol reaches out and latches onto Jungeun’s wrist. “Jungie, wait-”

“Don’t touch me,” Jungeun snaps, forcefully yanking her hand away. 

“Let me explain!” Jinsol pleads. 

“Forget it,” Jungeun spits out before stomping off down the hallway. She doesn’t look back. 

Numbness seizes Jinsol like a suffocating vice. She collapses onto a chair and places her head in her hands, willing herself to stop shaking. 

It feels like she’s balancing on the edge of a cliff. Her parents, her grades, the team, the pressure, Jungeun. They poke and prod and shove and chase, pushing her closer to the edge. 

She doesn’t know how much more she can take before she falls. 

-

“Have you decided on a club yet, Yerim?” 

To tell the truth, Yerim doesn’t have the slightest clue which club she wants to join. It’s only her second day in high school, and she already feels overwhelmed. It’s weird to think that she’s a big kid now, and she has to start making important decisions that will impact her future. At the moment, she doesn’t feel ready at all.

“I… haven’t really thought about it,” Yerim replies timidly. 

“Booooo… That’s lame,” Yeojin chides. “What about you, Hyeju?” 

Hyeju shrugs nonchalantly. “Something to do with sports, I guess.” 

“Hmm… I can see that. You give me jock vibes,” Yeojin sizes Hyeju up and gives her an approving nod. 

Hyeju’s face is expressionless, but her ears are bright red from embarrassment. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” 

“That’s not a compliment. I’m literally calling you a dumbass.” 

“Fuck you.” 

Yerim doesn’t really understand what’s so funny about being called a dumbass, but she laughs along with Hyeju and Yeojin anyway. 

Although Yerim was initially worried about making friends in high school, she feels fortunate to have been able to meet Hyeju and Yeojin right off the bat. They make for an unorthodox trio. Yeojin and Hyeju have polar opposite personalities. Yeojin is energetic and boisterous, while Hyeju is sullen, rarely speaking unless spoken to. However, they have a mutual love for foul language and insulting each other. They make it work. 

Yerim doesn’t really know where or how she fits into the equation. She doesn’t really like insulting people, and her mom always reminds her that it’s bad to swear. But she doesn’t want to be known as a loser, so she keeps quiet when her peers say bad words. Besides, Hyeju and Yeojin have been nothing but kind to her. She wants to believe that they’re good people. 

“Why don’t we check the noticeboard? Let’s see which clubs are recruiting new members.” 

The trio make their way towards the large noticeboard located in the main hallway. It’s completely covered with posters and letters, some freshly tacked on in the morning, while others are already yellow at the edges, citing years of age and neglect. 

“Well, this is a mess,” Yeojin muses. 

“The volleyball club is recruiting new members. Apparently they occupy half of the gymnasium,” Hyeju says as she scans one of the posters. 

“Woah, they even have a cooking club. Hyeju, you game?” 

“Nah, I’d burn down the entire school,” Hyeju mutters. She turns to Yerim, who freezes up under her scrutinising gaze. “Yerim looks like she can cook, though.” 

Yerim puffs out her chest, trying her best to look confident. “I-I make a mean carbonara!” She internally cringes at what she just said. She just outed herself to her new friends as a loser who likes to cook. She feels her cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

“Woah, no way! I fucking love carbonara,” Yeojin exclaims. 

Hyeju nods in agreement. “You should make it for us sometime.”

Yerim breaks out into a relieved smile. “Sure!” Maybe high school isn’t as bad as she feared it’d be.

They explore the noticeboard a little more, until Yeojin lets out a surprised ‘ah!’ when she reaches the lower right corner. 

Yerim and Hyeju make a beeline towards Yeojin, eager to find out what caused her to become so animated. 

“The basketball team is recruiting!” Yeojin eagerly points towards the plain-looking poster. “I didn’t even know they had a basketball team.” 

Hyeju sizes Yeojin up and frowns. “Hmm… you don’t look cut out to be a basketball player.”

Yeojin bristles at Hyeju’s remark. “Are you calling me short?! I’ll have you know, I’m fun-sized!” 

Hyeju puts her hands up in a non-offending gesture. “I didn’t say anything. You called yourself short.” 

“Fuck you! I’ve been playing basketball for years. You don’t even know shit about the sport!”

“Oh yeah? Try me bitch,” Hyeju folds her arms, her eyes blazing with defiance. 

Mirroring her gesture, Yeojin smirks. “Okay then, name one basketball player.” 

That stumps Hyeju for a moment. Suddenly, she breaks out into a wolfish grin. 

“CRISTA RONALDO!” Hyeju yells.

“SEWY!” Without missing a beat, Yeojin and Hyeju scream in unison while doing a weird thrusting motion with their torsos. 

“Sewer?” Yerim furrows her eyebrows in confusion. She doesn’t know what business Christoph has being in a sewer. Maybe he’s a rat? 

“It’s a- you know what? We’ll explain later. But this!” Yeojin jabs a finger towards the poster again, crumpling it in the process. “This changes everything.” 

“Are you going to sign up?” Yerim asks.

“Of course!” Yeojin turns back to look at Hyeju and Yerim, her eyes alight with excitement. 

“And you two are gonna join me.”

Yerim feels her blood go cold. This was not how things were supposed to go at all. She doesn’t know a thing about basketball. What if she makes a fool of herself and gets hit in the face? What if she gets stuck with some embarrassing nickname like “Basketface” for the rest of her life? Will she ever find a job? What if she can’t get married because nobody wants to marry someone who would bring such dishonour to their household? What if she- 

“Yeah, I’m in,” Hyeju says casually. “I played a bit in junior high. I’m better at football, but basketball’s pretty cool too.” 

“Sweet!” All eyes are now on Yerim, who swallows hard. “Yerim, you in?” Yeojin asks, tilting her head curiously. 

“I- um…” Yerim doesn’t like being put on the spot. “I’ve… never really played a sport before…”

“It’ll be fun! Don’t worry, I’ll teach you,” Yeojin says. 

Hyeju shudders. “I can’t imagine you being a good teacher to anyone.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Yeojin gives Hyeju a dirty look before she turns back to Yerim. “Come on, Yerim. It’s high school! The prime of our lives, all that shit. And you’ll be playing with us! Well, mainly with me because Hyeju is gonna be rotting on the bench for the entire year-”

“I’m going to dunk on your midget ass so fucking hard-”

“Anyway!” Yeojin waves Hyeju away and gives Yerim a bright smile. “It doesn’t hurt to try something new, right?” 

As afraid as Yerim is to make a fool out of herself, maybe trying new things is all part and parcel of growing up. 

If everyone else can do it, maybe she can do it too.

Yerim straightens her posture, and gives Yeojin a stiff nod. 

“Okay, I’m in.” 

Satisfied, Yeojin pulls out a pen and writes down three names on the signup form. 

Chapter Text

When Vivi received the news that she was being reassigned to a new school, she wasn’t expecting a four-hour bus ride to a town she’d never even heard of. 

Despite her reservations, Vivi packed her bags and made the trip anyway. Her salary and social security depended on it, after all.

Loona Town. Population five thousand and constantly dropping. A tiny alcove shielded by dense wilderness, practically removed from the rest of the country. The town was so small, in fact, that she didn’t even need to ask for directions to LOONA High School, since it was the only high school within a fifty-mile radius. 

Things could be worse, though. Her new apartment has a surprisingly large kitchen, so she has that going for her at least. If only she had someone to share it with… 

She sighs to herself. It’s a good thing she’s been keeping herself busy. She doesn’t even have time to think about her tragic lack of a love life, something her mother likes to bring up regularly. 

Still getting to grips with the layout of the school, it takes a while for Vivi to find the Head of Co-Curricular Development’s office. When she finally locates it, she gives the door several cursory knocks before pushing it open. 

“Good morning, Mister Jeong. You wanted to see me?” 

“Ah, yes! Miss Wong, please take a seat. How nice of you to grace me with your wonderful presence this fine morning,” Mister Jaden Jeong drawls in a comically fake accent. 

Is this dude for real? Vivi stretches her lips in a thin smile and takes a seat on one of the cushioned seats opposite Mister Jeong. 

“Okay, now that you’ve settled in, Miss Wong, I’d like to share with you a small tidbit about our co-curricular programme,” Mister Jeong dramatically clears his throat. “But before that! I believe that it’s imperative for you to understand the role I play in the running of this fine institution.” 

This is probably a bad time to point out that half of the lights in the art room aren’t working. “Of course. I’m all ears,” Vivi says politely, not realising that she’s just made a horrible mistake. 

Vivi tries not to fall asleep as Mister Jeong proceeds to spend the next twenty minutes praising himself and verbally sucking his own dick. She wasn’t warned of this particular initiation rite. Smile and nod, Vivi. Smile and nod. 

“- And I told them no! No way am I going to authorise the installation of another vending machine! Imagine the disastrous amounts of sugar our students will consume on a daily basis. Goodness, I swear that in this day and age, I am the only one who is still looking out for the health and well-being of the students studying in our fine institution. Let me tell you something, Miss Wong. My role as the Head of Co-Curricular Development - and it’s a very important role, mind you - is to ensure that our students are leading a holistic and active school life. And sweetened drinks are detrimental to the realisation of my vision for the modern student! They will thank me one day, they will indeed! Let me tell you something, Miss Wong. We may not be a big school with state-of-the-art facilities, but we are a school. That we definitely are. And a school is supposed to be a nurturing learning environment for every youth that steps through its gates! If I am unable to provide such an environment for-” 

“That’s wonderful, Mister Jeong. I’m very impressed by everything you’ve done for this school,” Vivi tries to mask the desperation creeping into her voice. 

Mister Jeong looks very pleased with himself. “That I have definitely done! Let me tell you something, Miss Wong. I-” 

“But I need to know why you called me here. I have a class starting soon, and I really have to get going.” 

“Then why didn’t you say so?! Let me tell you something, Miss Wong. Assertiveness is an extremely important trait to have in the working world. You will have to deal with many different types of people in the workplace. One example would be people who talk much more than is necessary-”

“That’s ironic.”

“Excuse me?”

“N-nothing!” Vivi forces a smile so wide that her eyes turn into tiny slits. “So, you called me here because…?”

“Ah, yes! Of course. I called you here for one reason, and for one reason only!” Mister Jeong removes his spectacles and leans forward in his seat.

“Miss Wong, I would like you to be a teacher-advisor for the basketball team.”

“What.” 

Vivi clamps a hand over her mouth. “I- I mean, Mister Jeong! This is a… surprise…?” 

“Unfortunately, this decision was taken out of my hands. It is compulsory for every co-curricular club to have a teacher-advisor, and the headmaster was adamant that the basketball team have one as well. Of course, I understand that you might have reservations. How many days has it been since your transfer?” 

“About… three days?” 

“You will be fine, Miss Wong. Besides,” Mister Jeong leans in so close that Vivi has to move away slightly. “Between you and me, your position as the basketball team’s teacher-advisor will be only in name.” 

Vivi frowns. Does that mean she doesn’t actually have any responsibilities? What the hell is even going on? “I’m sorry Mister Jeong, I’m afraid I’m not following…” 

The table shudders as Mister Jeong lets out a screechy high-pitched laugh, making him sound like a killer clown. Vivi is pretty certain of the clown part, maybe not the killer part, though. She’d like to think that Mister Jeong is all bark and no bite. 

“I have given the basketball team until Friday to sort out numerous administrative issues that have been plaguing them since the start of the school year. At the moment, they don’t have enough members to fill out a competitive roster. Hell, they don’t even have a coach!” Mister Jeong chuckles. “If they are unable to sort out their issues before then, I will have no choice but to disband the team.” 

Vivi’s frown deepens. “Two days is hardly enough time, though.” 

“Let me tell you something, Miss Wong,” The smile disappears from Mister Jeong’s face. “The basketball team has been an astronomical waste of time and resources. Since its inception, the team hasn't won a single competitive game. Now, you may point out that the other sports clubs aren’t doing much better, which is a rather astute observation if I might say so myself. But unlike the basketball team, they have actually won games in the past! Our fine institution isn’t a charity for students to join a sports club and have “fun”. They’re here to win and bring glory to our school!” 

Vivi bites her lip. What happened to providing students with an active and holistic academic life? For some reason, Mister Jeong seems hellbent on disbanding the basketball team. And she can’t for the life of her figure out why. 

Mister Jeong lowers his voice to a harsh whisper. “I’m doing you a favour, Miss Wong. If you do not desire the extra responsibility, your job as the basketball team’s teacher-advisor is to do absolutely nothing. Do you understand?” 

Vivi closes the door to Mister Jeong’s office behind her, the gears in her mind already turning. Never has she been given a task and then instructed to do nothing in order to accomplish it. How incredibly bizarre. 

But regardless, she can’t just ignore her duties to the basketball team. She’s been tasked with being their teacher-advisor, after all. Can she really stand by and do nothing while the team sinks without a trace? Not if her good conscience has anything to say about it.

Besides, she doesn’t really like Mister Jeong anyway, so she’d love nothing more than to stick it to the man and give him a big indirect middle finger. 

With her resolve solidified, Vivi quickly heads toward her next class. During the break, she’ll make a few calls and look through a couple of archives. It’ll be difficult, no doubt about it. Two days isn’t a lot of time, and there’s plenty that needs to be done. But Vivi doesn’t mind the added workload, already anticipating the challenge that lies ahead of her.

Right now, she has a basketball team to save. 

-

Even on the best of days, Heejin rarely sees Jungeun ever smiling. 

It’s incomprehensible to her how someone can always look so gloomy. Jungeun likes to protest that it’s “just her face”, but surely even she must be tired from constantly keeping her eyebrows furrowed. 

Between her and Jiwoo, they both agree that Jungeun’s angry face is actually rather cute. But they’ll never tell Jungeun that to her face. That’ll just be asking for a beating. 

“C’mon, Jungie! Snap out of it! You look like someone just ran over your cat!” Jiwoo gently shakes Jungeun, who looks like she wants to murder someone. 

“Sure fucking feels like it. And I don’t even own a cat,” Jungeun grumbles. 

Jungeun’s foul mood hangs over the quartet like a stormy cloud. She’s been like this ever since her argument with Jinsol yesterday, and whatever went down there will surely take a while to get over. Heejin just wishes there was something she could do to help.  

“Why are you always so pissy when it comes to Jinsol?! What’s going on between you two anyway?! It’s almost like she isn’t even your girlfriend anymore!” Jiwoo demands. 

Jungeun runs a hand over her face, looking rather peeved. “Jiwoo, not now-” 

“No, we’re gonna talk about this and we’re gonna do it now!” Jiwoo folds her arms defiantly and fires a pointed glare toward Jungeun.

Jungeun glares back, fire blazing in her eyes. “And I think you need to mind your own goddamn business.” 

“What is wrong with you?! I’m just trying to help!” 

“I don’t need your help.”

“Um, yes you do!”

“No, I don’t.” 

Heejin’s eyes dart back and forth between Jiwoo and Jungeun. When the two of them start arguing, there’s really no getting in between them. Believe her, Heejin has tried. It only ends with both of them getting angry at Heejin for interrupting, so she stopped trying after the first couple of times.

“You’re always so stubborn, Jungie! Why can’t you just talk to us?”

“Because it isn’t your problem. It’s mine.” 

“Yeah, it’s only your problem because you always keep things to yourself and end up making things harder on everyone!” 

Jungeun bristles at that last part. “What did you say?” 

The tension between Jungeun and Jiwoo is suffocating, but a piercing whistle from their gym teacher slices through the chatter in the gymnasium, allowing Heejin to strategically separate them before their argument can escalate any further. 

“Alright, everybody! We’re playing basketball today, so please group up into teams of five!” That earns a small cheer from the class, including Chaewon, who is probably just happy that they won’t be running laps today. 

“We’re talking about this later, whether you like it or not!” Jiwoo says with a sense of finality.

Jungeun scoffs. “You’re lucky that everyone else hates me, if not I’d be joining another team.” 

“At least you’re self-aware for once in your life,” Chaewon mutters, earning a light smack on the shoulder from Jungeun. 

“I don’t think being hated by the entire class is something to be proud of,” Heejin says worriedly. 

Jungeun shrugs pensively. “It’s kind of my brand at this point.”

“That’s sad, though!” Jiwoo says as the four of them stroll onto the court together. 

“Wait,” Jungeun says, stopping everybody in their tracks. “Are we supposed to be in teams of five or teams of four?” 

Chaewon yawns. “I was asleep.”

“Standing up?!” Jiwoo asks, sounding amazed. 

“Pretty sure it was five,” Heejin frowns. Usually, this wouldn’t pose as much of an issue. They’d form up as a group of four, then take in any remaining stragglers who were left over from the pile. But thanks to Jungeun’s newfound unpopularity, people have been giving them a wider berth than usual these days.

Jungeun groans. “So we don’t have a fifth person?” 

“Bold of you to assume that I’m even going to touch the ball,” Chaewon says tiredly. 

“Oh, look! There’s a straggler over there without a team!” Heejin follows Jiwoo’s pointed finger, toward a girl standing by herself in the centre of the gymnasium. 

“Isn’t that the new transfer student? What’s her name again…” Jungeun scratches her head as she wracks her brain for an answer. 

“Kim Hyunjin,” Heejin blurts out. She’d remember a face like that anywhere. 

She was as intrigued as the rest of the class when Hyunjin introduced herself to them on the first day of the new school year. A transfer student, especially one from a school as prestigious as Starship Prep, is basically unheard of at LOONA. It’s just a shame that she seemed completely uninterested in making friends. Naturally, their classmates quickly lost interest in Hyunjin, instead preferring to gossip about her reasons for transferring to their school. 

If Heejin had even an ounce of social aptitude, she’d have probably approached Hyunjin for a conversation by now. Unfortunately, pretty girls are her kryptonite, a tale as old as time.

“Huh, I guess someone’s been paying attention,” Jungeun nudges Heejin, a smug smirk on her face. 

Heejin can already feel her cheeks growing hot. “I-I’m just good at remembering names, it’s not a big deal, really…”

“Kim Hyunjin? Didn’t she transfer here because she got expelled from her old school for doing drugs or something?” Chaewon asks. 

Jungeun scoffs. “No, you idiot. She’s a narc trying to bust a drug ring in our town. The doing drugs bit is just her cover story. It’s so obvious.” 

“What is this, Breaking Bad?”

“Only one way to find out the truth!” Before anyone can stop her, Jiwoo is already sprinting toward Hyunjin, who has a bewildered expression on her face. “Hi, there! Would you like to join our team?! Are you a drug dealer?! Are you an undercover cop?! Are you a vampire coming to destroy our town and our way of life as we know it?! Don’t worry about sharing! Your secret is completely safe with me!” 

Heejin clamps a hand over Jiwoo’s errant mouth before she can spew out any more nonsense. She gives Hyunjin a queasy smile, instantly smitten by her large eyes and striking features. Hyunjin maintains her blank expression, but there’s an almost imperceptible quirk of her eyebrows that Heejin doesn’t miss. 

“Sorry about her,” Heejin glares down at Jiwoo, who thrashes about in her iron grip. “We need one more player on our team. Would you like to play with us?” 

Hyunjin doesn’t respond for a moment, her eyes deliberately running up and down Heejin’s body, studying her, scrutinising her. Heejin shivers as a bead of sweat slides down her cheek. 

Eventually, Hyunjin’s eyes snap back up to meet Heejin’s startled gaze, and she nods tersely. 

“Okay,” She replies in a small, robotic voice. 

Jiwoo finally manages to wrestle herself out of Heejin’s grasp. She gleefully takes Hyunjin’s hand and shakes it furiously. “That’s great! My name’s Jiwoo, it’s so nice to finally meet you! Sorry for asking if you were a drug dealer, but you can always tell us next time when you feel more comfortable sharing!” 

Hyunjin tilts her head in confusion. “I’m not a-”

“Shh…” Jiwoo brings a finger to Hyunjin’s lips. “Confidentiality policies. We completely understand!” 

“Confi- huh?”

Heejin frantically pulls Jiwoo away. “Don’t mind her,” She then grabs Jiwoo’s cheeks and starts pinching them. Hard. “Stop. Talking. You. Dumb. Idiot.” 

“Ow! I’m sowwy! I’m sowwy!” Jiwoo sobs hysterically as her cheeks are subjected to a rough squishing. Heejin drags her by the cheeks all the way back to their court, with a baffled-looking Hyunjin trailing behind them. 

“Guess Heejin’s got an evil side too,” Jungeun raises her eyebrows at the sight of Jiwoo’s swollen cheeks and teary eyes. 

“Sorry, my intrusive thoughts won,” Heejin huffs. 

Chaewon visibly cringes at Heejin’s words. “You did not just say that with a straight face.” 

Shaking her head, Jungeun strides up to Hyunjin, who stares at her blankly, unwilling to give away an ounce of emotion. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Jungeun. The violent girl you met just now is Heejin-”

“I told you, my intrusive thoughts won!” Heejin whines, glancing toward Hyunjin, who doesn’t seem too bothered. 

Chaewon gives Hyunjin a casual wave. “I’m Chaewon,”

Hyunjin nods at all of them, but she doesn’t smile. Maybe Heejin should be feeling a little creeped out by now. But honestly, she doesn’t really mind Hyunjin’s peculiar behaviour. It must be tough transferring into a new school, where everything is new to you. She must be nervous, or maybe she’s just shy. All Hyunjin needs is a little time to adapt. 

“So, do you play basketball?” Heejin asks, desperate to make conversation. For someone of average height, Hyunjin has a pretty athletic build, with defined muscles on her arms and well-toned legs. Well, not like Heejin was staring or anything… 

It seems like nodding is the only thing Hyunjin is capable of, because she does it again. “I used to,” She says simply without elaboration. 

“Are you good?” Jungeun inquires. 

At that, Hyunjin’s expression brightens slightly. “I’m alright. I haven’t played in a while, though.” 

“Well,” Heejin picks up a ball and slings it toward Hyunjin, who catches it easily. “Seems like a good time to dust down the cobwebs.” 

With the ball in her hands, there’s a new glint in Hyunjin’s eyes that wasn’t there before. 

The whistle blows, signifying the start of the game. The opposing team bears down on them, sorely lacking in skill, but certainly not in aggression. 

After the match’s conclusion, Hyunjin’s self-declaration that she’s just “alright” at basketball, might well be the biggest understatement of the century. 

From her posture to the way she handles the ball, it’s clear that Hyunjin is no amateur. Far from it, in fact. An amateur doesn’t dribble through a whole team by themselves. An amateur probably doesn’t know how to do the Euro Step, let alone have a cleaner jumpshot than most professional players. And an amateur definitely isn’t capable of draining a shot from halfway across the court. 

To put it simply, Hyunjin is the most talented basketball player Heejin has ever seen. 

Heejin can only watch in awe as Hyunjin single-handedly tears their opponents to shreds. Incredibly, it doesn’t look like Hyunjin is even trying, which makes her abilities all the more impressive. While the opposing players toil and chase after Hyunjin’s elusive shadow, she glides around the court effortlessly, her movements seeming almost lackadaisical; nonchalant. 

As the game wears on, the shots that Hyunjin manages to land start getting more and more ridiculous. As if scoring from half court wasn’t enough, Hyunjin follows that up by scoring a contested fall-away shot after being backed into a corner by three opposing players. And if that wasn’t enough, Hyunjin dances past two desperate opponents before sinking a delicate floater from outside the arc. While Hyunjin does pass back to Heejin and her teammates in an attempt to get them into the game, it’s clear that she is in complete control of the match. 

This is Hyunjin’s world, and everybody else is just living in it. 

Heejin has seen enough and turns her head to look back at her friends. Jungeun and Jiwoo’s eyes are wide with shock, their jaws falling to the floor as they marvel at Hyunjin’s magic show. And Chaewon is… well, Chaewon is taking a nap by the sideline. But when Heejin locks eyes with Jungeun and Jiwoo, they all come to an easy agreement. 

They absolutely must have Hyunjin on the basketball team. 

Immediately after PE ends, Heejin immediately pounces on Hyunjin, who didn’t even work up a sweat. 

“You were incredible!” Heejin exclaims, earning a slight chuckle from Hyunjin. 

“It was nothing, really. But I had fun,” Hyunjin smiles, and it’s almost too much for Heejin to bear, as she feels her cheeks starting to burn. 

“Hyunjinie! You were awesome! Who knew that a narc could play basketball?! That’s such a cool cover story!” Jiwoo squeals excitedly. Hyunjin keeps a smile on her face, but a large question mark forms on the top of her head. She turns to Heejin for help, but Heejin just shrugs her shoulders. Sometimes, even she has no idea what Jiwoo is talking about. 

“Nice moves out there,” Jungeun pats Hyunjin on the shoulder. “You should totally join our team.”

Hyunjin’s smile is quickly replaced by a suspicious frown. “Team?” 

“Yeah! We’re all part of the school’s- wait, can somebody wake Chaewon up?” Heejin patiently waits for Jiwoo to drag Chaewon over, who still looks half-asleep. 

“Right!” Heejin claps her hands together.  “As I was saying, we’re all part of the school’s basketball team, and we could really do with a player like you. So, would you like to join us?” 

If Hyunjin wasn’t smiling before, she definitely isn’t smiling now. Her jaw is set tight, her pupils shaking. Heejin is slightly taken aback. She can’t help but feel like she might have said something wrong. 

“No,” Hyunjin says flatly. 

Without even waiting for a response, she turns on her heels and walks away. 

In an exceedingly rare occurrence, the quartet is stunned into complete silence.

Heejin blinks. “What just happened?” 

“You got rejected,” Chaewon says bluntly. 

“What are we gonna do now?!” Jiwoo moans. 

Jungeun turns to Heejin. “We either hold her at gunpoint or knifepoint. Which method would you prefer?” 

Heejin doesn’t answer immediately. With all her skill and talent, it’s clear that Hyunjin knows her way around a basketball. Chances are she’s even played for another school team before, which makes her refusal to join the basketball team even more of a mystery. 

Whatever Hyunjin’s reasons are, it’s hardly going to stop Heejin. Once she has her mind set on something, there’s no way she is going to take no for an answer. 

“Let’s try asking her again at lunch,” Heejin says. 

“Are you sure about this?” Jungeun asks, an uncertain edge creeping into her voice.

Heejin nods eagerly. She hasn’t been more sure about anything in her entire life. 

-

“I’ve got a visual on the target, three o’clock.” 

“What’s she doing?” Heejin asks. She’s standing at the back of a long queue for the snack stall, silently willing for the line to move faster. 

“She’s just… eating,” Comes Chaewon’s monotonous response. 

“No fucking shit, Chae,” Jungeun’s snappy voice crackles into her ear. 

“What? She literally wanted a sitrep.” 

“Cut the chatter, people! We’ve only got one shot at this!” Ever the sensible one, Jiwoo gets everybody locked in. They have a target and an objective. To accomplish this mission successfully, they will require nothing less than a hundred percent focus. “Heejin, have you acquired the VIO?” 

“What’s a VIO?” Jungeun asks sheepishly. 

Heejin can almost hear Chaewon rolling her eyes over her inserted airpod. “Very important object, get with the programme.” 

Before she even realises it, Heejin is nearly at the front of the queue. “I’m almost at the front, what should I buy?” 

“Uhh… Give me a sec, I’ll scan the target.” 

“This is so goddamn stupid,” Jungeun sighs. 

“Shut up, Jungie! Wonwon’s in her zone right now.” 

“Bread. She likes bread. I remember her devouring that mochi sandwich on the first day of school.”

Heejin is impressed. “You actually remembered that? I thought you were asleep throughout the whole lunch period.”

“I’m omnipresent,” Chaewon replies, sounding rather smug. “Take that, Jungeun.”

“Shut up.”

Finally reaching the front of the queue, Heejin hurriedly buys a packet of condensed milk bread. Her wallet cries out at the thought of giving someone free food, but it must be done to ensure the success of the mission. 

“Is this even gonna work?” Jungeun asks, sounding rather skeptical.

“You’re such a hater, Jungie! Bribery always works!” Jiwoo cheerfully replies. 

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!” 

“VIO secured. Moving to insertion point,” Heejin stealthily makes her way to the corner of the canteen, where Chaewon confirmed the target’s location. Hyunjin is easy enough to spot. She’s sitting by herself at one of the tables, scrolling idly through her phone while nibbling on a cream bun. Heejin can’t help but frown in curiosity. Even though Hyunjin is alone, she doesn’t look lonely. Instead, she seems rather content. Peaceful, even. 

“Go for Heejin,” Chaewon’s voice chirps inside her ear. “Bring her home.” 

“This gamer lingo is going way over my head,” Jungeun groans.

“That’s probably your sign to start playing games with us,” Chaewon replies. 

Taking a deep breath, Heejin gathers her courage and strides right up to Hyunjin’s table. She wishes she had timed her entrance better though, because she catches Hyunjin with half a cream bun stuffed inside her mouth. 

“Hi. Mind if I sit?” Heejin asks, trying to control the tremor in her voice. Hyunjin stares up at her with large eyes, her mouth still comically full, preventing her from speaking. But she slowly nods her head. Heejin hesitantly takes the seat opposite her new companion. Carefully, she slides the bread across the table. Hyunjin looks down at the bread, and then looks back at Heejin, pointing a finger at herself as if to ask if the bread is for her. 

“Yeah, it’s all yours.”

Hyunjin raises her eyebrow at that, but she still picks up the bread and peels back the packaging, which Heejin takes to be a good sign. 

“Thank you,” Hyunjin says quietly, before she takes a large bite out of the bread. Her eyes widen to accommodate the size of the bite, and a high-pitched sound comes out of the back of her throat. Heejin finds it absolutely adorable.   

“Good?” Heejin asks. Hyunjin nods her head vigorously and flashes Heejin an approving thumbs up. Heejin starts to relax a little bit. At least Hyunjin didn’t run away like last time. Things are off to a very good start. 

“See, I told you bribery always works!” Jiwoo triumphantly hollers into her ear. Heejin deftly yanks out her airpod and patiently waits for Hyunjin to finish eating. 

“Do you need something?” Hyunjin asks, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She doesn’t sound accusatory or suspicious, which means the mission is more or less proceeding as planned. 

“Uh… Actually, I just wanted to talk, if that’s alright with you?” Heejin asks, taking extra effort not to trip over her own words. 

Hyunjin stares at her blankly. With each passing second that she doesn’t speak, Heejin gets more and more unsettled. It feels as though Hyunjin is studying her, trying to glean her intentions, to figure out what kind of person she is. She swallows the growing lump forming in her throat. 

“...Okay,” Hyunjin finally says, and Heejin lets out a soft exhale of relief. “What do you want to talk about?” 

“So! Um… How- how are you finding our school? You can be honest, I don’t mind.” 

“It’s very small,” Hyunjin replies. 

“I know! Sucks, doesn’t it?” Heejin sighs. She plans to transfer out of this school the moment she gets a chance. The facilities suck. The people suck. Besides, nobody is going to LOONA High in search of talented artists. And there’s just the small matter of their basketball team getting disbanded on Friday…

Hyunjin shrugs. “It was the only school that had a vacancy.” 

“It must be a very different atmosphere from your old school. You were from Starship Prep, right?” 

At the mention of Starship Prep, Hyunjin tenses up. It doesn’t escape Heejin’s keen eye. 

“You okay?” She reaches out to rest a hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder, but Hyunjin recoils from her touch. Heejin retracts her hand hastily, fearing she might have overstepped an unspoken boundary. 

“Yes,” Hyunjin brushes back her hair, trying to regain her composure. “I’m fine.”

“...You sure?”

“...Yes,” Hyunjin insists, her tone indicating that this conversation is definitely over.

Heejin tries to suppress her frown. There’s still so much she wants to ask Hyunjin about Starship Prep. How was the school culture? Is the cafeteria food better than the slop they serve up at LOONA? Do all the lights in the art room work as they’re supposed to? Was Hyunjin formerly a member of their prestigious basketball team? 

Perhaps most curiously of all, what was the reason for her transfer? 

She turns back to see Hyunjin with her head down, munching on her bread. 

“Um… I actually want to ask if you’re alright,” Heejin scratches her cheek. “During PE, you walked away after I asked you to join the basketball team and all… I was just wondering if I said something to upset you.” 

Hyunjin chews and swallows. There’s a faraway look on her face. “No, it’s not your fault. It’s me.”

“Oh,” Heejin heaves a sigh of relief. Hyunjin isn’t angry at her or anything she said. Now, it’s time to move on to phase two. 

“If that’s the case, I really hope that you’ll consider joining the basketball team with me and my friends. I-I don’t know what could’ve possibly happened to make you stop playing, but it’d be really awesome if you could join us. You’re an amazing player and with you on our team, I’m sure we’ll be able to win a couple games this year! So, what say you-”

Heejin notices Hyunjin’s expression getting progressively stormier with each sentence coming out of her mouth. She immediately falls silent, apprehensiveness enveloping her body. 

“No,” Hyunjin says flatly. 

“At least just-”

“I said no!” Hyunjin snaps, anger burning in her eyes. But her expression immediately softens. She looks troubled; guilty, even. “Sorry, but… I just want to be left alone right now.” 

Heejin lets out a disappointed sigh.

“In case you change your mind, we’re having practice at the gym later,” Heejin rubs her arm pensively. “It’d be really nice if you could come and watch us.” 

Heejin takes one last look back at Hyunjin, who keeps her head bowed, not daring to meet Heejin’s eyes.

“Well, see you around.” 

With hunched shoulders, Heejin trudges back to her normal table, where Jungeun, Jiwoo, and Chaewon were watching the entire ordeal unfold.

“Bummer,” Jungeun comfortingly rubs Heejin’s shoulder. “Maybe it just isn’t meant to be.” 

“Mission failed, we’ll get ‘em next time,” Chaewon says, looking quite pleased at squeezing in that particular video game reference. 

“But Jungie!” Heejin whines. “She’s so freaking good at basketball. We need her! Don’t you want to win games?!”

“Of course I want to win games, but if she’s adamant about not joining the team, what can we do about it?”

“More bread? It seemed to be working great at the start!” Jiwoo offers. 

“I still think holding her at gunpoint is a better idea,” Jungeun folds her arms adamantly.

Chaewon scoffs. “That’s a terrible idea and you know it.”

“Fuck you! I’d like to see you come up with something better.”

Heejin rests her head on the table. She heaves another heavy sigh. Recruiting Hyunjin for the basketball team is turning out to be much more difficult than she initially thought.

-

Sometimes, Jiwoo wishes that she’d say ‘no’ more often. 

Over the past year as a student at LOONA High, Jiwoo has developed a reputation for being an upstanding person, always willing to extend a helping hand. She’ll give out homework answers to anyone who asks. She always lends other people money, even though they rarely pay her back. No matter how tiring or draining it gets, Jiwoo takes on every request with a bright smile. 

Jiwoo tells herself that she’s just being nice. Jungeun believes that she’s being a pushover and that she’s just desperate to fit in. Jiwoo tries to ignore her. Even her best friend can be wrong sometimes. Besides, her teachers love her, and all her friends have only good things to say about her. Jiwoo figures that she must be doing something right. 

Her bag straps bounce on her shoulders as she jogs toward the gymnasium, still haunted by the piercing glares of her social club mates when she said she wouldn’t be able to attend today’s meeting. 

She won’t admit it to anyone but herself, but none of this would’ve happened if she just said no to joining the basketball team. 

Don’t get her wrong, she absolutely loves her friends to death. But she’s never played basketball seriously in her entire life. And honestly, she doesn’t really see how having a third-degree black belt in taekwondo will ever help her be a good basketball player, no matter how much Heejin tries to convince her that it does. 

Well, too late now. Jiwoo only has herself to blame for getting into this mess. She nervously pushes through the doors of the gymnasium, but ends up tripping over the doorstopper line and face-planting right into a girl’s chest. 

Raising her head slowly, Jiwoo’s heart sinks when she locks eyes with none other than Ha Sooyoung, her secret crush for the better part of a year. 

“EEEEEEE!” Jiwoo squeals, roughly pushing Sooyoung away. She squeezes her eyes shut and begins bowing profusely. 

“I’m so, so, so sorry that I face-planted into your chest I swear it was an accident and that I wasn’t actually looking for an excuse to touch your boobs- Not that I don’t want to touch your boobs, don’t get me wrong! I’m sure- I’m sure that your boobs are wonderful to touch and everyone is just dying to touch them, me included! But- Wait- That didn’t come out right. W-what I’m trying to say is I’m deeply in lo- I mean I’m deeply, truly sorry for landing into your awesome boobs! Haha…” 

To her credit, Sooyoung doesn’t even look embarrassed or angry. Her gorgeous face is set in an expression so calm and stoic, no one would be surprised if she was actually an extremely life-like android. However, her red ears give away the fact that she’s a human after all. 

“No harm done,” Sooyoung casually dusts off the front of her blouse and refers to her clipboard. “You’re Kim Jiwoo, yes?” 

Jiwoo only has enough working brain cells left to nod dumbly. She still can’t believe that she’s actually having a conversation with her crush. Such was the notoriety of Sooyoung’s cold demeanour that even the school’s social butterfly felt afraid to make an approach, and believe her, Jiwoo has definitely tried. 

Unfortunately, she probably didn’t make the best first impression, but if it works, it works. Jiwoo definitely isn’t going to complain.

“You’re late for basketball practice,” Sooyoung says sternly, causing Jiwoo to flinch. “Get changed. Everybody is waiting for you.” 

After changing into her gym attire, Jiwoo scurries to join the rest of the group, who are sitting together on the floor. Sooyoung stands in front of them, alongside a young teacher Jiwoo hasn’t seen before. 

Once the team gets settled, Sooyoung turns towards the new teacher. “Miss Wong, the team is ready. Please feel free to introduce yourself.” 

Miss Wong smiles, her doe-like eyes forming into crescents. “Miss Vivi is fine, thanks.” 

“Yes, Miss Wong- I mean, Miss Vivi,” Sooyoung’s ears turn red again, much to Jinsol’s amusement. 

Miss Vivi turns to face the group, and Jiwoo tries her best to pay attention, but it isn’t easy when Sooyoung is pouting cutely at the back, probably still hung up over her small mistake. 

“Good afternoon, everyone. I’m Miss Vivi, and I’m your new teacher-advisor,” She waits for the polite applause to die down. “I’m pretty sure most of you haven’t seen me around the school before. I just transferred in less than a week ago, and this is the first time I’m holding an appointment like this. So if I make any mistakes, please be patient with me.” 

“Now that’s out of the way, I thought I might give a quick introduction about myself. I’m an art teacher-”

“The best!” Heejin hollers and makes a heart shape with her arms. 

Miss Vivi laughs shyly and shoots back a finger heart, causing the rest of the team to chuckle. Jiwoo thinks that she’s going to like this new teacher. 

“Thank you for vouching for me, Heejin. Anyway, I’ve been teaching for about five years now, and I’d like to think that I’m approachable and easy to talk to. So, if you have any problems or you’re just looking to chat, don’t be afraid to come to me. I’ll try my best to help you.” 

Miss Vivi’s expression turns serious, which prompts Jiwoo to sit up a little bit straighter, although she does steal glances at Sooyoung from time to time. 

“Sooyoung has informed me of the current state of the basketball team. As far as I am aware, if we’re unable to get enough players to join the team and find a coach by Friday, the team will be forced to disband.” 

A chilly silence descends upon the group, who are again reminded of the monumental task that lies ahead of them. 

“Well,” A small smile finds its way to Miss Vivi’s face. “It’s a good thing Mister Jeong was forced to assign me to this job. Sooyoung?” 

Clearing her throat, Sooyoung steps forward and reads from the clipboard in her hands. “Three first-years have indicated their interest in joining the team. That’ll bring our roster up to nine players, which will be enough to play in competitive matches. They will be joining us for their first practice this Friday.” 

Jinsol lets out a whoop, and everybody else murmurs excitedly among themselves. 

Jungeun, however, still looks concerned. 

“What about finding a coach? We don’t have much time left until the deadline, right?” 

“Leave finding a coach to me. I’m working on it,” Miss Vivi flashes her a calming smile. “In the meantime, please continue practicing hard. Our first competitive game is a month from now, so let’s give it our best until then. Any questions?” 

The players shake their heads, buoyed by a new-found wave of optimism. Their teacher-advisor seems fairly competent, and they’ve managed to find enough players to fill out their roster. Things are looking on the up. “If not, you can begin with your practice. I have some things to settle in the office, so I’ll be back later.” 

After Miss Vivi leaves, Sooyoung leads the group for a light warm-up before they begin their practice session in earnest. 

The group split up into two separate groups. Heejin, Jungeun, and Jinsol take one of the two available baskets to work on team plays and individual skills. Jiwoo frowns as Jungeun grabs Heejin’s arm and drags her away, not even sparing a glance at Jinsol, who stays rooted to the spot, looking hurt and forlorn. She may not know the finer details of Jungeun and Jinsol’s most recent spat, but from what she can observe, things are looking pretty bad. 

Since Jiwoo and Chaewon are essentially beginners at the sport, they take the other basket, with Sooyoung personally teaching them the basics of basketball. 

With the ball in her hands, Jiwoo looks toward the basket. She’s standing in the middle of the court, with only Sooyoung to keep her company. 

A nervous bead of sweat slides down her face. She silently curses Chaewon for excusing herself to go to the bathroom. The little gremlin is probably holed up inside one of the cubicles playing Animal Crossing on her Switch.

“Bend your knees, and keep the ball tight to your stomach,” Sooyoung instructs, and Jiwoo tries her best to follow. The last thing she wants to do is make a fool out of herself in front of Sooyoung. “When you shoot the ball, the power comes from your wrist and the momentum from unbending your knees. Wait, not like that.”

“Like this?” Jiwoo swipes her tongue over her lips and sticks her butt out a little more. She feels a little embarrassed, so she turns to Sooyoung and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m not really good at this!” 

Sooyoung pauses for a moment. “Okay, I’ll show you.” 

When Sooyoung says that she’ll show Jiwoo proper shooting form, she definitely wasn’t expecting Sooyoung to suddenly grab her arms from behind. 

“You’re too stiff,” Sooyoung’s hot breath tickles her ear. Jiwoo squeaks when she reaches down to adjust the positioning of her legs. 

When Jiwoo was initially coerced into joining the team, she wasn’t exactly keen on it, but is she really going to complain when she gets to be in close proximity to her crush three times a week? 

“There, try taking a shot. Remember, it’s all in the wrist,” Sooyoung steps back to give her space, and Jiwoo frowns at the loss of contact. She briefly considers acting dumb and asking Sooyoung to teach her again, but ultimately decides against it. 

Jiwoo takes aim, and lets go of the ball. It sails through the air in a lazy arc, before hitting the outside of the rim and bouncing straight back to her. 

“Ah, that’s not quite right. You forgot to straighten your knees after shooting. Here,” Sooyoung steps forward and gently wraps herself around Jiwoo’s frame again, and Jiwoo is immediately overwhelmed by the delicious smell of apples.

“...important that you maintain your posture at all- Are you listening to me?” 

“You smell really good,” Jiwoo murmurs dreamily, before her hand flies to her mouth. “I-I mean-” 

“It’s my conditioner,” Sooyoung replies nonchalantly, but her lips quirk, eyes flashing with something resembling amusement. 

Jiwoo doesn’t need a mirror to know that her cheeks are already turning red. 

She thinks she might’ve just acquired a new love for basketball. 

-

“I haven’t seen Chaewon in a while.” 

Heejin quickly surveys the court. By the other basket, Jiwoo and Sooyoung are having an extremely personal practice session by themselves. Over on their side, Jinsol dribbles the ball and executes a skillful lay-up right by the rim. Chaewon is nowhere to be seen. 

“She’s probably in the bathroom or something. I’ll get her. And you,” Heejin jabs an accusatory finger at Jungeun. “Go talk to your girlfriend. She looks like a kicked puppy and I can’t take it anymore.” 

Sure enough, Jinsol is sulking in the corner by herself, looking like a little kid who just got her candy stolen.

“Ugh, she’s so…” Jungeun massages the space between her eyebrows. “I just need some time to think, okay? I’ll handle it.” 

“Well, I sure hope you do,” Heejin drops the basketball and makes her way to the entrance, realising that it’s open by a crack. Odd. 

As Heejin nears the door, she swears that she spots a large cat-like eye peeking through the crack. Her eyes widen when she realises who it is. 

“Hey!” Heejin sprints toward the door and flings it open, desperately searching the hallways for any trace of Hyunjin. However, she is nowhere to be seen. 

Heejin stomps her foot in frustration, angry at herself for not being able to catch Hyunjin. But she tries to look on the bright side of things. Hyunjin came to watch - or was it to spy? - on their practice. Surely this means that she does have some interest in joining the team, no matter how much she tries to deny it. 

She does find Chaewon eventually, cooped up in one of the bathroom cubicles and glued to her Switch. 

“Hello,” Chaewon waves her Switch in greeting. Heejin narrows her eyes, unimpressed. 

While she drags a reluctant Chaewon back inside the gymnasium, Heejin makes a promise to herself; She’s going to get Hyunjin on the basketball team, or she’s going to die trying. 

-

im heejin and im the next hokage

heejin, jungeun, jiwoo, you

jiwoo

JUNGIEEEEEEEEEE

Y DIDNT U TELL ME DAT 

SOOYOUNGIE WUZ ON 

DA BBALL TEAMMMMM

😭😭😭😭😭😭

jungeun

You didn’t ask

And it looked like both of 

you were getting along

pretty well 😏

jiwoo 

HMPHHHHHH

SOOYOUNGIE IZ VV KIND

AND SHES SO PREDDYYY

jungeun

Really?

Don’t you find her a little intimidating? 

jiwoo

NAWT RLYYY

U SHLD TALK TO HER MOAR JUNGIE 

ULL SEE WAT I MEANN

jungeun

Hmm maybe I should 

heejin

jungie still hasnt talked to jinsol yet

although we told her to many times

🤦

jiwoo 

🤦

SHE WAS SO SAD DURING PRACTICE

TDYY

WAT DID SHE DO TO MAKE U MADD

jungeun 

Nothing 

I said I’m going to handle it

So just leave it yeah? 

heejin

were just looking out for you dude 

on a sidenote 

im like 127% sure hyunjin wants to 

join the team now

why else would she come to spy on

our practice?

jungeun

…Heejin

She already said she wasn’t interested 

heejin 

i know i know 

but if she wasnt interested why would she

come to watch us ? !?! !?!?

and you saw her playing during pe today

she was having so much fun

i think its the only time i saw her smiling

ever since she transferred 

idk it just doesnt make any sense 

jiwoo 

MABBE SHES JZ SHYY

GIVE HER MOAR BREDD 🍞🍞

🍞🍞🍞

jungeun

Maybe she’s just holding back?

She still loves playing basketball,

but something bad might’ve

happened and she had to stop

heejin 

hmm 

im gonna try again tomorrow 

we need her on the team idfc

jungeun

Good luck with that I guess

Although I doubt that it’s going

to work

By the way has anyone done 

the essay yet? 

heejin 

ill get around to it

after this episode tho

jiwoo 

I FINISHED ITTT!! TOOK ME 

ALL NITE OMG

you 

what essay

jungeun

The language essay? Due 

tomorrow? Ring any bells?

jiwoo 

UH OHH WONWON

FORGOT 2DO HER

HW AGNN

you

oh 

fuck

jiwoo 

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

heejin

bruh

jungeun 

… 

Chapter Text

Although Miss Vivi has only been a teacher at LOONA High for less than a week, Sooyoung is mightily impressed by her tenacity and acumen. She might well be the most competent teacher Sooyoung will ever have the pleasure of dealing with, and believe her, she’s dealt with a lot of stupid teachers during her time on student council. 

When Sooyoung receives a text from Miss Wong requesting her presence in the staff office, she quickly dips into the bathroom and pulls out her makeup bag. Swift brushes of concealer to mask her prominent eye bags. Blusher to brighten up her pale, sallow skin. 

She looks at her own reflection in the mirror. Perfect, as should be. As she has to be. 

If only she felt half as good as she looked. 

Sooyoung finds Miss Vivi bustling around the staff office like a busy bee on a pollination run. When Miss Vivi spots Sooyoung, she smiles and almost drops the gargantuan stack of files in her thin arms. 

“Sooyoung! Glad you could make it. Do you mind waiting at my cubicle? I’ll be just a moment,” Miss Vivi says, not slowing her stride as she speedwalks toward the other side of the office.

Miss Vivi’s cubicle is situated in a corner of the office, far removed from prying eyes and distracting conversations. Sooyoung doesn’t know if it’s okay for her to sit, so she decides to remain standing. 

Making a quick survey of the cubicle, Sooyoung spots several certificates and photographs tacked onto the walls. Her desk is swamped with paperwork and files stacked toward the ceiling. It hardly looks like a desk that only became occupied less than a week ago. 

“Thanks for waiting, Sooyoung. Why are you standing around? Take a seat!” At Miss Vivi’s instruction, Sooyoung hastily sits on one of the comfy cushioned chairs opposite to her teacher-advisor. 

“So, how are we doing today?” Miss Vivi asks as she casually flips through a file. 

Sooyoung blinks and yawns inside her mouth. To tell the truth, she feels like shit. She woke up this morning face-down on her desk, drowning in a pool of her own drool, half-finished essay staring back at her mockingly. At least she has the lunch period to get it done, but there’s a math test in seventh period that she hasn’t even studied for. She’ll have to ask Jinsol for some last-minute tutoring to have any hope of passing it. 

“I’m fine,” Sooyoung lies. There’s no reason to worry Miss Vivi, especially when she already has so much on her plate. “You wanted to see me for something?” 

Miss Vivi settles into her chair, pushing away a stack of folders in between her and Sooyoung. “I made a call to the National Basketball Coach Association. They gave me a few numbers of unemployed coaches, some who are new to the sport and don’t have much experience, and others who have been around for quite a while. I called all of them… but they either lived too far away and didn’t want to relocate, or they thought that coaching our team was beneath their skill level.” 

Sooyoung suppresses a wince. “Could’ve left out that last part.” 

Miss Vivi scoffs. “Tell me about it.” 

“So… does this mean that nobody wants to become our coach?” Sooyoung asks worriedly. She’d hate for all of their hard work to go down the drain. 

At that question, Miss Vivi smiles and places a thin file in front of Sooyoung. 

“I got a call back from one of them last night. Their details are inside this file.” 

Apprehensively, Sooyoung flips the file open to see the gentle face of Jo Haseul staring back at her. 

She’s twenty-five years old, with prior experience coaching at several elementary and junior high schools. However, she was fired from her old post due to a string of poor results. If the six-month gap from her last job to the current date is anything to go by, she’s been struggling to find work ever since. 

“Well… I guess it could be worse,” Sooyoung muses, then frowns. “But would she be willing to come all this way from the city?” 

Miss Vivi shrugs. “I can ask her if you’d like. But I suggest we make a decision soon since the deadline is tomorrow. She’ll also need time to pack and make the trip.” 

“Any idea about her personality? Or what kind of person she is?” 

“I’d say that she was very pleasant when she called me last night. Cracked a few lame jokes, but I appreciated the effort,” Miss Vivi stifles a chuckle. “So, would you like to make a decision now? Or do you need a little time to think about it? I wasn’t planning on calling her back without your approval first.” 

Although she has concerns about Jo Haseul’s lack of experience in high school division basketball, it’s not like they have any other candidates to choose from. As the saying goes, beggars can’t be choosers. 

Sooyoung nods thoughtfully. “If that’s the case, then I would like to respectfully inform that you have my approval.” 

“Great! I’ll give her a call then. Thanks, Sooyoung.” Miss Vivi smiles, and Sooyoung takes it to be her cue to leave. 

“Thank you, Miss Wo- Miss Vivi. I’ll be taking my leave then,” She rises from her seat and bows deeply, a gesture ingrained into her since she was old enough to walk.

“Ah- Before you go!” Miss Vivi fumbles inside her drawer, pulling something out of it. She scampers over to Sooyoung and hands her a chocolate bar. “Here, take this. I know you’ve been working very hard and you must be really tired. I’m sorry that it’s not much… But I hope it helps you get through the day, even just a little bit.” 

Balking at the weight of the chocolate bar in her hand, an inexplicable wave of emotion comes over Sooyoung. 

She can’t remember the last time anyone ever thought about her well-being. Well, anyone other than Jinsol. After all, she always had to portray herself as infallible, invincible; capable of carrying the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. People would take from her until she had nothing left to give. 

When she gazes into Miss Vivi’s kind and gentle eyes, Sooyoung almost wavers and asks her for a hug. Almost.

Vulnerability is a sign of weakness. And Sooyoung refuses to show any weakness, no matter how exhausted or stressed out she may be. 

Sooyoung bows deeply once more. “Thank you very much, Miss Wong.”

“Miss Vivi.”

“M-Miss Vivi.” 

“You’ll get there eventually,” Miss Vivi laughs and pats Sooyoung on the shoulder. “I’m sure you already know this, but it’s okay to slow down and take a break sometimes.” 

Sooyoung nods, keeping her eyes trained on her spotless white shoes. “I’ll keep that in mind, Miss W-Vivi.” 

Leaning against the wall beside the entrance of the staff office, Sooyoung takes a moment to catch her breath. The hallways are empty save for a couple of stragglers, everybody else is already in class. 

She consolidates their current position. If all goes well, they’ll have a new team coach in time for their next practice session, which coincides with the deadline which will determine the fate of the team. They’ve made it, but only just. 

Sooyoung unwraps the chocolate bar and takes a bite, relishing the comforting taste which spreads across her tongue, soothing her aching bones. 

Her phone buzzes. Sooyoung groans when she sees the barrage of messages summoning her to the council room. Her expectations were low, but holy fuck. Those idiots can’t seem to do anything right without her. The incompetence of LOONA High’s leadership seems to know no bounds. 

No rest for the wicked, it seems. Sooyoung stows her phone away and stomps towards the council room, muttering curses under her breath. 

-

“Heejin, you can’t be serious.” 

“I am very serious,” Heejin says, determination blazing in her chest. In her hands, a homemade peanut butter and jelly sandwich, except the sandwich isn’t for her. 

Jungeun bangs her head on the desk and groans. “Why won’t you give up? She already said no multiple times, didn’t she?” 

“Oh yeah? Care to explain why she came to watch our practice yesterday then?” Heejin bites back defiantly. “She obviously wants to join us, but there’s something holding her back. I just need to find out what it is.” 

“C’mon Jungie! Don’t be such a hater!” Jiwoo chirps. 

“I-I’m not a hater! I’m just being realistic. Right, Chaewon?”

“Mngh?” Chaewon jolts out of her slumber and looks around, her eyes still completely closed. “Yeah, that’s nice. Cool.” 

“Even if it doesn’t work, it can’t hurt to try,” Heejin plucks up her courage and strides purposefully toward Hyunjin, who is fiddling with the pages of her textbook. 

“Hi, Hyunjin-”

“No,” Hyunjin tilts her head to look up at Heejin, her face blank, her tone flatter, more monotone than it’s ever been.

“I- I haven’t even said anything yet!” 

“I know what you’re going to ask. You want me to join the basketball team, even though I’ve already told you multiple times that I’m not interested. Stop asking. Leave me alone.”

“Then why?!” Heejin raises her voice, desperation and frustration creeping into her tone. “Why would you come to watch our practice yesterday if you aren’t interested in joining the team?!” 

Hyunjin freezes up at the accusation. “What practice?” 

“Don’t lie to me,” Heejin fumes. “I saw your big stupid eye looking through the gap in the doors. Don’t even try to deny it.” 

Fumbling about for a response, Hyunjin’s eyes dart around the room, looking at anywhere but Heejin. “No comment.” 

“Huh?! What do you mean ‘no comment’?!” 

“...N-No comment.” 

Heejin wants to cry. Or scream. Or tear her hair out in frustration. Or maybe all three at the same time. Maybe she wants to hit Hyunjin on the head with a baseball bat while she’s at it as well. 

But as the wise Naruto once said, violence is not the ninja way. Heejin takes an exceedingly deep breath to calm herself down. 

Sometimes, when nothing else seems to be working, the best course of action is to walk away. 

“Look, I can see that I’m not going to change your mind anytime soon. But your actions don’t lie. You want to join the team, and there’s clearly something stopping you from doing it. I don’t know what the hell that could possibly be, but whatever it is, that’s for you to figure out. I don’t care anymore.” 

Heejin unceremoniously dumps the sandwich on Hyunjin’s table. “This is for you. I made it myself. Enjoy.” 

Hyunjin gapes at the sandwich on the table, then stares at Heejin, her eyes wide with shock. “Heejin, wait-”

“Bye.” 

Without waiting for an answer, Heejin turns her back on a shell-shocked Hyunjin and trudges back to her seat, where her friends are waiting. 

“Well, I warned you,” Jungeun says, not sounding particularly sympathetic. 

“It’s okay, Heejin! I’m sure Hyunjinie will come around eventually! Right, Wonwon?” 

“Mngh?” Chaewon snaps awake, looking like she’d just gone through a season-long hibernation. “Yeah, great. Wow.” 

Heejin leans back in her chair, casting her gaze toward the ceiling. She wishes it didn’t have to come to this, but it seems like she will have to lose a few battles in order to win this particular war. 

-

It’s common knowledge to most of the youngsters living in Loona Town; If you’re looking to have a fun night out, you’re definitely at the wrong place. 

Sure, there’s a bowling alley that hasn’t been repainted in a decade, and a couple of ice cream parlours here and there. But other than that, it’s a woefully boring town in every sense of the word. 

On restless nights, Heejin lies in her bed, wondering what it'll take to get out of this town. There’s a whole wide world out there, waiting to be explored. There’s got to be more to life than going to a shitty rundown school every day, just to get constantly ridiculed for playing the sport she loves. 

Although it’ll be another two more years until Heejin graduates, at least she has Naruto to keep her company. What more could a girl need?

Some days, if she’s looking to spice things up a little, she’ll make the short walk to Chaewon’s apartment complex, where she’ll shoot a couple of hoops at the public outdoor court with Jungeun. 

“You’ve been off today,” Jungeun comments as Heejin’s shot hits the backboard again. 

“Just unlucky,” Heejin mutters, jogging over to pick up the ball.

“Jiwoo’s been shooting better than you.” 

Jiwoo grins sheepishly, a little shy at the praise. “Sooyoung taught me!” 

Blocking out the excess noise, Heejin pulls up and aims for the basket. It’s an ugly shot, though, hitting the outside of the rim and bouncing away. 

“Damn it! I give up,” Heejin collapses onto the floor, feeling more frustrated than she’s ever been. 

Jungeun and Jiwoo join her on the floor. Chaewon doesn’t like getting her shorts dirty, so she remains standing, eyes perpetually glued to her Switch. 

“What’s wrong, Heejin? You look so upset!” Jiwoo asks worriedly.

Heejin groans, rolling onto her side. “It’s nothing. It’s just that stupid Hyunjin and her big stupid eyes and her big stupid hands and her stupid pretty face not wanting to join our basketball team!” She throws her hands up in the air to emphasise her annoyance. 

“Seriously? Heejin, forget about Hyunjin. We already have enough players. We don’t need her anymore,” Jungeun says. 

Heejin furiously shakes her head. “Jungie, have you freaking seen her play?! How can you have so much talent and not want to make use of it?!” 

“Well, she obviously has her reasons. And besides, we can’t force her to join the team if she doesn’t want to.” 

“Ughhhhh…” Heejin rolls around on the floor, trying to drain the frustration in her system. Finally, she sits up, a newly-ignited fire burning in her chest. “Look, I wanna win matches. I don’t wanna join a tournament and get destroyed in our first game. I’ve already experienced it last year, and I don’t wanna experience it ever again.” 

Looking at each of her friends in the eye, it’s clear that they understand where she’s coming from. “I just… I can’t explain it. We need her on the team. It won’t be the same if she isn’t.” 

“Oh look, it’s Hyunjin.” 

Like a squad of seagulls, Heejin, Jungeun, and Jiwoo tilt their heads in the direction of Chaewon’s finger. Sure enough, Hyunjin is strolling down the path with a grocery bag in her hand, dressed in a comfortable cat-print shirt and pyjama bottoms. Heejin hears Jiwoo gasp, and when her gaze moves down to Hyunjin’s feet, she understands why. Socks and sandals, the cardinal sin. 

Well, no better time than the present. Heejin stumbles to her feet, determined not to let this chance slip away. 

“Hey, you!” Heejin yells, pointing a finger at Hyunjin, who freezes up at the sight of the quartet. 

“Don’t even think about running away when you’ve got sandals on,” Jungeun says. 

“Yeah! Wouldn’t want our best player to get injured!” Jiwoo says cheerfully, causing Hyunjin to wince. 

“What are you doing here?” Hyunjin asks cautiously. Her body is turned awkwardly sideways, like she’s not sure whether to run away or to stay in place. 

“I live here,” Chaewon replies with a small wave. 

“Like, on this court?” Hyunjin’s eyes widen. 

Chaewon narrows her eyes. “No, you idiot. In the apartment behind me.”

“Oh.”

“You know, if you think about it, Chaewon tends to dress like a homeless person,” Jungeun says, earning a light shove on the shoulder from Chaewon.

“Shut up.” 

“Anyway!” Heejin waves her arms in the air to stop her friends’ endless bickering. They can go on like this all night. “We were playing basketball just before you came. Wanna join us for a bit?” 

“Ah…” Hyunjin scratches the back of her neck, looking unsure. “I’ve got to get home soon…” 

“Come on! It’ll just be a while,” Heejin pleads. To be honest, she just wants to watch Hyunjin play basketball again. 

Jiwoo haphazardly throws the ball to Hyunjin, who has to stretch to her left to catch it. “It’ll be fun, Hyunjinie! Let’s play!”

“To make it fair, it’ll be all of us against you,” Jungeun smirks, and that seems to get Hyunjin’s attention. There’s a sharp glint in her eyes, just like the one back in PE class, as if she’s relishing the prospect of a challenge. 

“Okay,” Hyunjin nods tersely. She tosses the ball to Heejin, who is practically vibrating with excitement. “If I lose, it’s because I’m wearing sandals.” 

“Excuses are for losers!” Jiwoo yells as they take up positions on the court. 

“Check!” Heejin bounces the ball back to Hyunjin. She holds the ball in her grasp serenely, like she’s manipulating an extension of herself.

Jungeun pushes Chaewon forward. “Chae, you’re guarding her.”

“Me?!”

-

Thirty minutes later, Heejin and her friends are sprawled in a heap by the side of the court, red-faced from exertion and fatigue. 

Heejin lays on her side, desperately trying to get her breath back. Even by herself, and in fucking sandals, the gulf in skill between Hyunjin and the rest of them is painfully obvious for everyone to see. She’d slice through them like they weren’t there, do all sorts of funky lay-ups, and sink long-range shots from halfway across the court, all without even breaking a sweat. 

It’s unfair. Hyunjin is just too good. Which is exactly why it’d be such a waste if she wasn’t on their basketball team. 

Something cold is pressed against her cheek, and Heejin squeals in surprise. She looks up to see Hyunjin’s stupidly cute face staring down at her, a canned drink in her hand. 

“Thirsty?” Hyunjin asks. Heejin feels her cheeks heat up, but she can’t use fatigue as an excuse this time. 

“Thanks,” Heejin opens the can and takes a deep swig. She passes the can to Chaewon, who looks like she wants to die. 

“How… How do you… do that?” Jungeun pants. Hyunjin turns to face Jungeun, looking slightly embarrassed. 

“I’ve been playing basketball my whole life. So… I guess I’ve had a lot of practice,” Hyunjin shrugs as if it isn’t a big deal.

Jiwoo jumps up from the floor, still looking as energetic as ever. “But still…! Hyunjinie, you’re absolutely freaking insane! You were like, “whoosh”! And then you’d just fly by Jungie and leave her on her butt-”

“Hey.”

“- And right after that, you’d go all “bam”! And you’d throw the ball into the basket! You’re amazing!” 

Hyunjin laughs awkwardly, and Heejin can’t help but notice the cat whiskers that form on her face when she smiles. It’s cute. “It’s nothing, really…”

“Look, if Chaewon can’t guard Hyunjin, then no one can guard Hyunjin,” Jungeun says, defensively folding her arms over her chest.

“I’m… not even… that good though…” Chaewon manages to choke out in between taking sips of her drink. 

“Hyunjin,” Heejin grabs Hyunjin’s arm to gain her attention, and they lock eyes. Hyunjin’s gaze is so intense, like she’s staring straight into the depth of Heejin’s soul.

Heejin forces herself to maintain eye contact, determined to make this work.

“I know that you might have reservations about playing with us. And I know that I can’t force you to join the basketball team. But trust me when I say that you are the best player I have ever seen, and we could really, really use someone like you on our team.” 

“She’s been talking about you non-stop since you stomped on everyone during PE class,” Jungeun chuckles at the memory, and Heejin flushes because she’s just been exposed. “But she’s right. You’re pretty damn good at basketball, and I want you on the team too.” 

“Me too! Me too!” Jiwoo waves her arm in the air, eager to show her enthusiasm at the prospect of Hyunjin joining. 

“You should join the team for my sake, at least that way Heejin will finally shut up about you,” Chaewon says tiredly, looking like she’s in dire need of a long nap. 

There’s an unreadable expression on Hyunjin’s face, and it makes Heejin nervous. Maybe she went too far, and crossed a boundary she shouldn’t have crossed. But then again, Hyunjin loves basketball, and has definitely shown some interest in the team by spying on their practice session. At this point, Heejin doesn’t know what to think anymore. 

“I’m in,” Hyunjin’s voice comes out in barely a whisper.

“C-come again?!” Heejin’s jaw drops in astonishment. 

“I’ll join the team,” Hyunjin says, louder this time. Heejin feels like she’s just won the fucking lottery. Jungeun and Jiwoo exchange giant grins. Even Chaewon manages to muster a tired smile. 

“But I have one condition,” Hyunjin pipes up timidly, and everybody settles down to listen to her demands. 

“If I ever mess up, just… be kind to me… okay?” Hyunjin casts her gaze on her sandals, not daring to meet their eyes. 

“Of- of course!” Heejin breaks out into a smile. Then she jumps on Hyunjin and engulfs her in a hug. “Finally! You said yes!”

“Hold on, let me text Sooyoung,” Jungeun frantically goes off in search of her phone.

“Group hug!” Jiwoo sweeps up Chaewon and Jungeun, wrapping everyone into a giant ball of sweat, laughter, and unpleasant smells.

Squished into Hyunjin’s chest, Heejin timidly lifts her head to see Hyunjin looking down at her. When she registers that Hyunjin is actually smiling, it’s enough to make her heart do somersaults inside of her chest.

-

If Haseul kept a list of all the crazy shit she’s done in her life, she’s pretty sure that upping sticks and travelling six hours to the middle of fucking nowhere in order to coach the basketball team of a high school she’s never even heard of would rank pretty highly on that list. 

But here she is, in Loona Town, where the bars close before midnight and the hotels never expect any guests. Well, not like Haseul could afford a stay anyway. All she has is her car, ten dollars, and an impossible dream. She’ll make it work somehow. 

After some clever sleuthing, she manages to find a clean public restroom, complete with a working shower. It’ll have to do for now, while she spends the next few days sorting out her living situation. 

She rocks up to LOONA High School on Friday afternoon in her smartest shirt and pants, just as Vivi had instructed her to. If she looks as cute as she sounds over the phone, Haseul wants to make a good first impression. 

She pushes through the entrance, instantly overwhelmed by the number of people bustling through the hallways. Friday afternoons are reserved for co-curriculars, which explains why almost every student has somewhere to be. 

Amidst the orderly chaos, Haseul spots a pretty dark-haired woman waving at her from across the hall. She scampers toward the woman and shakes her hand warmly. 

“Hi! Glad you could make it, Haseul.”

“Pleasure’s all mine. Uh, Vivi, right?”

“Yes, that’s right!” Vivi smiles at her, and Haseul pushes down the grin threatening to make its way to her face. It’s always easier working with a pretty teacher-advisor. Haseul has a feeling that she’s going to love this new job.

“Oh! Before you meet the team, I’d just like to thank you again for taking a chance on us. I know that we aren’t the most established of teams, so…” 

“It’s not a problem! I’m here to change that,” Haseul says while puffing out her chest confidently, which earns a polite laugh from Vivi.

“Let’s hope so. Come on, let me take you to the gymnasium.” 

Training is already in full swing by the time Haseul and Vivi step into the gymnasium, as Haseul almost gets hit in the face by a stray volleyball. She frowns when she notices that five of the courts are already taken up by the badminton and volleyball teams, which means that the basketball team has only been left with one court to practice on. 

This doesn’t come as a surprise. After all, Vivi already gave her a brief background of LOONA High School’s tragic basketball team. Never won a competitive game. No funding. No support from the administrative body. Laughingstock of the entire school. With no prior experience coaching at the high school level, Haseul couldn’t have asked for a more challenging baptism of fire. 

As if sensing her dismay, Vivi tugs on Haseul’s sleeve nervously. “Our head of co-curricular development sanctioned this arrangement. I’m sorry, I really wish there was something I could do.” 

Haseul places a reassuring hand on Vivi’s arm. “No worries. We all love an underdog, don’t we?”

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“It’s a- you know what? Never mind.” 

As they near the court allocated to the basketball team, Haseul counts ten girls in various states of warm-up. It’s the perfect roster size for a high school team, which does reassure her somewhat. 

One of the girls spots Haseul and Vivi, instantly rushing toward them with her hand outstretched.

“Good afternoon, Miss Jo. My name is Ha Sooyoung. I’m the team captain.” 

Haseul grins and shakes Sooyoung’s outstretched hand. “Pleasure’s all mine.” 

Sooyoung returns a stiff smile and turns around to call out to the rest of the team. “Team! Gather around.”

Like a mini stampede, the rest of the girls scamper toward Haseul. There’s a sense of excitement that buzzes around the room, and Haseul can’t put her finger on it, but she has a good feeling about this. 

“Hi, girls! Please take a seat, and get yourselves comfortable. Sooyoung, that includes you.” 

Once the team is sitting in a small semicircle around Haseul, she clears her throat to get their attention. 

“Well, I don’t really do intros. Not my style. I’m Haseul, but you can call me Coach. Capiche?” 

“Yes, Coach…” The girls chant in unison. 

“Cool! Alright, I’m looking forward to working with y’all. If all goes well and we work hard in practice, I think we’ll be in for a good season. How’s that sound?”

Most of the girls nod and murmur among themselves, while a few let out excited whoops. 

Haseul surveys the ten youthful faces seated before her. They wear a diverse range of expressions, from excitement to apprehension, from determination to fear. \

It’s clear that this is a very new team, and since Haseul doesn’t have a profile of her new players, there’s only one way to find out how good they are.

“Right, then!” Haseul picks up a nearby ball and spins it on her index finger. 

“Who’s up for a game?”

Chapter Text

As a child, Chaewon’s mom always told her that she was capable of doing anything. 

She used to harbour an interest in football. While she stayed by the swings with her friends, she’d watch the boys fall over one another trying to kick a ball into a goal. Buoyed by her mother’s encouragement, she decided to join in one day during recess. 

Unfortunately, her first experience playing the sport ended with her arm in a cast for two months. She never went near a football again. 

When she received a sketchbook and colouring pencils from a relative on her birthday, she tried her hand at drawing art. However, her dad laughed his head off at the sight of her first drawing. He even had the nerve to guess that she had drawn a car. It was supposed to be a dog. 

In the privacy of her room, she tore up the drawing into tiny little shreds. She never picked up a sketching pencil again. 

As Chaewon grew older, her childlike optimism began to fade. Even if she had nothing else going for her in her life, she had her room and the internet. And she was good at video games. That’s something at least. 

Nonetheless, she swore to herself that she’d never bother being passionate about something ever again. If she wasn’t good at it, there was no point in persisting with it. Better to give up early instead of wasting her time. 

With all that said, Chaewon has no idea what she’s doing here. 

She understood the rules of the practice match well enough, first team to twenty baskets wins. And it’s hard to believe, but she does have a conscience. Chaewon feels a little bad for being a deadweight to her teammates. She’s never played basketball in her entire life, nor does she ever intend to. She secretly prays that her teammates don’t notice her loitering in the corner, trying to stay invisible, just so they will pass to her as little as possible. 

The score is 18-16 as it currently stands, with Chaewon’s team barely edging the contest. That’s mainly down to Hyunjin, who is putting points on the board like nobody’s business. Jinsol has managed to pitch in with the occasional basket here and there, along with that tall first-year whom Chaewon hasn’t caught the name of yet. 

To her credit, Jiwoo is really giving it her all. She’s especially active on defence, constantly jumping to block any shots bound for the hoop. Not to mention, her enthusiasm and energy are infectious to anyone whose name isn’t Chaewon. Unfortunately, her inexperience in the sport is painfully obvious, her shots just not seeming to land whenever she’s placed under pressure.

But that’s more than can be said about Chaewon, who’s just there to make up the numbers. Not that she really minded, because she knew that she was signing up for this. Unfortunately, their new coach just had to turn everything on its head, and force her to actually train with the team, even making her play in scrimmage games. 

Jungeun brings the ball up the court, and immediately drives toward Chaewon, who weakly raises her arms so that she at least looks like she’s trying to defend. Jungeun skids to a stop and pulls up, looping the ball beyond Hyunjin’s reach and into the hoop. The score is now eighteen to seventeen. 

“HEY! SLEEPYHEAD! STAY SHARP ON DEFENCE, DAMN IT!” Coach Haseul’s shrill voice rings in Chaewon’s ears. She tries to tune it out as she strolls to join her team’s offensive play. 

Apart from the times she gets caught in between Jungeun and Heejin’s lengthy basketball chats, Chaewon doesn’t know a shred of basketball terminology. Hyunjin is bouncing the ball, her arm outstretched to keep a marauding Jungeun at bay. Hyunjin stutters to one side, and Jungeun scrambles to follow, before cutting to the other side, leaving her defender in the dust as she powers toward the basket. Heejin steps forward to meet her, but Hyunjin barrels past her weak frame and lightly knocks the ball against the backboard. It falls into the hoop with a delightful swish. 19-17. 

The ball is received by another first-year on the other team - Chaewon believes her name is Yerim? - who has been outshone by her fellow first years. She hasn’t scored any points yet, and seems quite inexperienced in the sport, by the way she hesitantly fumbles with the ball, uncertainty in her eyes. 

Suddenly, Yerim lifts her head up. Without warning, she slings a perfect pass across the length of the court, way over the heads of Chaewon and her teammates. Sooyoung receives the ball and scores a simple basket to cut the deficit once again. But all the plaudits deservedly go to Yerim, who is congratulated by her surprised-looking teammates. 

The ball returns to Hyunjin’s hands, as Chaewon’s team moves up the court. They just need one more point to win the game, and Hyunjin doesn’t waste any time, shooting past Heejin and beginning her unstoppable drive to the rim. But Sooyoung stands tall, her arms raised and ready to do battle, while Jungeun and Yeojin move in to assist. 

Realising she’s surrounded, Hyunjin deftly twists her body in mid-air and flings the ball straight toward Chaewon. 

Not expecting the ball to ever come to her, Chaewon is completely caught off guard as it maintains a collision course straight for her face. She yelps and ducks under the ball, causing it to fly out of bounds. It hits the nearby wall with a hard thump. 

Coach Haseul, who has been screaming incoherently for most of the practice game, is stunned into silence. Light laughter erupts around the court as Jiwoo and Hyunjin rush over to check on Chaewon. 

“Wonwon, you okay?!” Jiwoo helps Chaewon to stand, her legs feeling like jelly. 

“I could’ve died,” Chaewon says breathlessly. 

Hyunjin’s eyes are wide with concern. “Was my pass too sudden? I’m so sorry, I was just so caught up and they were closing in on me so I just thought that-”

“It’s fine,” Chaewon waves her away. “I wasn’t paying attention.” 

“Then what the hell are you doing here?”

Chaewon tilts her head to the source of the insult. It’s that first year on her team. Her face is sullen, lips pulled into a thin line. 

“Huh?” Chaewon can’t quite believe what has just been said to her.

Yerim timidly grasps the sleeve of the girl’s shirt, pulling her back slightly. “H-Hyeju, don’t fight-”

Hyeju shrugs Yerim off, her focus squarely on Chaewon. “It’s obvious you don’t know how to play, and you don’t even look like you want to play,” Her voice isn’t raised or strained, and she doesn’t sound angry at all. Rather, it sounds like she’s merely stating a fact. “So, I’ll ask again. What are you doing here?” 

Over the years, Chaewon has become used to back-handed remarks about her lack of enthusiasm. She’d let all of it roll off her back. Other people’s opinions were of no concern to her. 

Now, under the spotlight of Hyeju’s scrutinising gaze, Chaewon feels naked; exposed. And she can’t help but feel slightly pissed off about it. 

“Yeah, I don’t know how to play, what’s it to you?” Chaewon snaps back, surprised at her own aggressiveness. 

Hyeju places her hands in the air, but her imposing body language doesn’t at all indicate that she’s trying to be conciliatory. “I’m just saying that if you don’t want to be here, you should just leave.”

“Hey, that’s not nice! Wonwon’s trying her best!” Jiwoo cries indignantly. Another twinge of anger shoots through Chaewon. Not because Hyeju’s allegations are completely baseless and she’s totally being rude, but because deep down, Chaewon knows that she’s completely right. 

A shrill whistle halts their altercation from escalating any further. Coach Haseul stands before them, whistle hanging off the side of her mouth. She looks unimpressed. 

“Do your talking on the court, people! Move it, move it!” Coach Haseul nudges Hyeju and Chaewon back onto the court. Hyeju shoots Chaewon a side-eyed look before she stalks off to rejoin the game. 

Maybe Chaewon should put in some effort, especially since Hyeju just called her out. But as fast as her annoyance toward the errant first-year comes about, it dissipates just as quickly. Right now, Chaewon wants nothing more than to take a nap. 

Big mistake. In the time it takes to blink, the ball zips past her and makes its way into Sooyoung’s grasp, who has a completely open look at the basket. She makes no mistake, draining the shot to equalise the score. 

“Nice defence,” Hyeju sneers at her, before jogging ahead to join the rest of the team. 

Chaewon struggles to suppress the anger brewing in her gut. She wasn’t expecting Hyeju’s disapproval to cause such a negative reaction within herself, but at the moment it does, and Chaewon can’t seem to figure out why. 

-

“Stay compact, people! Perimeter defence! Pipsqueak, you’re too short to be on perimeter defence!” 

“Coach, what the heck!” 

Haseul intently watches her players being put through their paces. It may just be a practice game, but the intensity at which they play is certainly a pleasant surprise. It definitely papers over some of the glaring flaws and deficiencies in their game, not to mention the abundance of things for them to improve on. But that’s to be expected. After all, this team hasn’t had much time together, and on-court chemistry will take time to develop. 

However, talent isn’t something that can be taught, and some of these players have heaps of it at their disposal. If Haseul can help them to nurture that talent and mold them into skilled players, she could have quite a formidable team on her hands. 

The practice match continues in earnest, with both teams coming close to hitting the game-winning shot. Pipsqueak attempts a contested long-range shot that clatters off the rim, while the third year whose name she believes to be Jinsol gets her lay-up blocked by Sooyoung. 

However, for all of the other team’s hard work and stout defence, there’s only so much they can do to stop Hyunjin, who has far and away been the standout player in this practice match. 

Leaping into the air to grab a loose ball, she streaks down the length of the court at frightening speed. Showing incredible dexterity to steer away from Sooyoung and Jungeun, Hyunjin storms into the paint, shaping her body to lay the ball up. 

Not to be outdone, Heejin jumps to block her scoring attempt, but Hyunjin is one step ahead, deliberately delaying her release, which causes Heejin to horribly mistime her jump. With a completely open basket to aim at, Hyunjin nonchalantly tips the ball into the hoop, securing a hard-fought victory for her team. 

Grinning widely, Haseul brings the whistle to her lips and blows. 

“Alright! Wow, great game everyone. Definitely work to do, but I really, really liked what I saw out there,” Haseul surveys the ten faces sitting before her. Most of them are red-faced and panting heavily, a testament to how hard they played. “Okay, I just need a show of hands. How many of you are completely new to basketball? It’s okay! Don’t be shy. My job is literally to teach you.” 

A couple of hands come up, even Vivi raises her hand playfully. Haseul chuckles lightly at Vivi’s cuteness. 

“Don’t worry, Miss Vivi. I can give you some personal training if you’d like,” Haseul grins at Vivi, whose face is now coloured bright pink. 

She turns back to the players and makes a quick mental note of who raised their hands. She recognises Yerim, the timid-looking first year who made a great first impression with her cross-court pass earlier. Although her fundamentals are very raw, there’s definitely a talented player hiding in there somewhere. 

Jiwoo also has her hand raised, and what caught Haseul’s attention was her boundless energy, along with an uncanny ability to time her defensive blocks well. With some proper training, Jiwoo could definitely be molded into a fine defensive specialist. 

Finally, she turns her attention to Sleepyhead, who has her arm limply raised. Her eyes are nearly fully closed, and her head is starting to droop. Haseul narrows her eyes at Sleepyhead. Other than ducking under a ball that was coming toward her, Sleepyhead didn’t do a single thing all game. This would be fine if she was making effort on defence and generally being a positive player, but she looked so uncomfortable on the court that Haseul isn’t sure if she even wants to be here. 

Haseul claps her hands together. “Right! For the benefit of the new players, I’m just gonna run through some basketball basics. Now, where did I put my whiteboard…” Haseul pats down her pockets before realising two things; One, she left her whiteboard behind in the car. Two, her whiteboard is too big to fit into any of her pockets, so she just spent about ten seconds looking stupid in front of all her players. 

“Oops! Silly me. Anyway, I have coins! Gather around, please. Squeeze in a little, Hyunjin. There we go. Alright!” 

In the center of their little huddle, Haseul places down five coins of varying value and size. 

“Okay! Basics of basketball. Five versus five. Put ball into hoop. Score more than opponent. If score more win. If opponent score more lose. Capiche?” The players nod and murmur among themselves. Haseul powers on with her explanation. 

She hovers a finger over a ten-cent coin. “This is the point guard. Their job is to control the offense. Basically, they have to be pretty damn good at basketball. Being good at passing is a prerequisite, and they also need to have good court awareness. Even better if they can dribble and create their own shots. I think it’ll be the perfect role for Hyunjin.” 

Without missing a beat, she moves on to the coin placed right next to the point guard coin. “This is the shooting guard. Pretty versatile position. I like players in this position to have good hustle. That and being good at shooting the ball. I liked what I saw from Pipsqueak out there. Jiwoo has a really good engine on her as well, although she has some work to do on her shooting.” 

Next, she sets down a coin slightly off to the right of the previous two coins. “This here’s the small forward. Moves around a lot, typically the most well-rounded player on the team. Also the most reliable one if you’re looking to score points consistently. I think Sooyoung will make a good fit, maybe Jungeun as well.” 

She sets down another coin, but this time on the left. “Power forward. It’s in the name. Strong, tall, stays near the basket. I like my power forwards with some fire in them, so I think Hyeju should have a go at that position.” 

Lastly, she sets down the fifth coin, right in the middle of the other coins. “Last but not least, we have the center. Their primary job is to get rebounds, both offensive and defensive, so they’ll need good hops and a good build. When I was watching you girls out there, Jinsol seemed to have some experience in that role, so that’s where I’d like her to focus training on.” 

“We don’t need each player to fit the requirements of each position. A lot of things depend on playstyle and the system we’ll eventually be using. Since you girls are just starting out, I don’t wanna complicate things too quickly, so we’ll have all of you try a bit of everything. Once I’ve profiled your skillset a little better, then we’ll begin to specialise. Capiche?” 

“Yes, Coach…” The team drawls out in unison, bringing a smile to Haseul’s face. 

“Fantastic! Alright, let’s start off with some basic shooting drills. Some, if not most of you know how to properly shoot a basketball. So, this drill will mainly help the new guns and also fix any bad habits y’all have developed. Pipsqueak, pass me that basketball, will you?”

Receiving the ball from Pipsqueak, Haseul dribbles toward the hoop. 

“We’ll start off with the lay-up. Basically, it’s the go-to shot when you’re really near the basket.” 

Perfected by years of practice, Haseul takes three deliberate steps and throws the ball up. It smacks against the center of the backboard and slides through the hoop smoothly. 

Haseul regains possession of the ball. “After layups, we’ll move onto mid-rangers and three-pointers, and then we’ll do some passing and defensive drills. Questions? No? Alright! Talking time’s over. Let’s go, move it, move it!” 

At Haseul’s instruction, the team erupts into a flurry of activity, heading to the hoops on either side of the court in order to start their drills. All of them, except for one. 

Haseul sighs. “Hey, Sleepyhead. C’mere for a sec.” 

Sleepyhead trundles over lethargically. “Yes, Coach?”

Placing a careful hand on her shoulder, Haseul deliberates on what she’s about to say. 

“I’m gonna ask you one simple question, and I want you to answer back yes or no.” Sleepyhead stares back at her blankly.  

“Do you want to be here?” 

Sleepyhead’s expression contorts into one of uncertainty. “Not really.” 

“Then what are you doing here?” Haseul asks, completely bewildered. 

“Well… My friends asked me to join. I’m just here to fill out the roster. They said I wouldn’t play any games or join in practice,” Sleepyhead’s eyes are shifty, darting around the room, deliberately avoiding Haseul’s gaze. 

Haseul blows a stream of air out of her nostrils. “Listen, Sleepyhead-”

“-Chaewon.” 

“...Sleepyhead. I’m afraid you need to know that when it comes to my team, it’s either my way or the highway. If you’re not gonna buy into what we’re trying to work towards here, then I don’t think you should stay on the team.”

When Sleepyhead doesn’t respond, Haseul continues. “And that’s why I’m gonna give you a choice. Either you quit the team, letting all of your friends down and even yourself for not trying to become a better player. Or, you can stay on the team, keep your head down, and work hard with the rest of them.” 

Silence. A bemused expression emerges on Sleepyhead’s face. Haseul folds her arms authoritatively. 

“Well, what’ll it be?” 

Sleepyhead frowns. “I don’t like how you phrased the first option.” 

“Then the answer is obvious, isn’t it?” Haseul smiles and slings a basketball toward Sleepyhead, who catches it with a startle. 

“I feel like I just got scammed.” 

“Okay! Less talking, more shooting! Move it, move it!” Haseul shoos Sleepyhead toward one of the baskets, where the rest of the girls are already moving onto mid-rangers. 

As the saying goes, Rome wasn’t built in a day, and Haseul’s young charges still have a long way to go before they can call themselves a competent team. But the signs are there. Every shot they take, every pass they make, and every rebound they grab will bring them one step closer to where they want to be. If they work hard and maximise the potential of their best players, there’s no reason this team can’t go on to claim a few scalps in the upcoming provincial qualifiers. 

Additionally, she also has some really talented players at her disposal. Heejin has excellent shooting technique, while Sooyoung and Jungeun look like very well-rounded players. A special mention goes out to Hyunjin, who might well be the most talented player Haseul has ever coached. 

It might be early days, but Haseul has a really good feeling about this. 

After two hours of intensive drills on basketball fundamentals and team plays, rounded off by one last scrimmage for the girls to let their hair down, Haseul blows the whistle to conclude their first-ever training session. 

“Gather round, people! I’ll make this debrief quick, I know y’all are tired,” After the girls are seated, Haseul flashes a quick thumbs up. “Great work today, everyone. Sorry if I was screaming a lot during the practice games. It’s nothing personal, believe me.” 

“No offense taken, Coach!” Pipsqueak pipes up, earning a couple of laughs from her other teammates. 

“I appreciate it, Pipsqueak. Okay! I’ll just do a quick rundown of what to expect for the next couple of weeks. Our first competitive game is about a month from now. So we gotta make the most of our practice time while we still can.” 

Hyunjin raises her hand. “When are we going to start developing our playstyle?” 

“Thanks for asking, Hyunjin. This first practice session is just an opportunity for you girls to show me what you got. As we practice and spend more time together, we’ll be able to identify our strengths and weaknesses, then we’ll be able to develop a playstyle that suits us. With that said, expect to be practicing more team-based schemes starting next week onwards. Y’all can brush up on your fundamentals in your own time.” 

“I forgot one more thing!” Haseul raises a hand to silence the group’s incessant chatter. “We’ll be embarking on a cohesion camp next weekend. Miss Vivi has already granted us her express approval.”

At the mention of a cohesion camp, the team erupts in excitement. Pipsqueak, Hyeju, and Yerim exchange eager high-fives. Even Sleepyhead seems to be buoyed by the atmosphere, as she gets jostled about by her fellow second-years. 

Right on cue, Vivi returns from the staff office with the consent forms, which she begins to distribute to the rest of the team. “Please let your parents sign these and return them to me by next Wednesday. If your parents don’t sign this form, you can’t go to the camp. I’ll send the packing list to Sooyoung, and she’ll disseminate the message to the rest of you.”

After giving Vivi a polite nod, Haseul returns her attention to the team. “You heard the woman. Sign that paper, or you don’t get a seat on the bus next week. Alright! Any burning questions? No? In that case, I’ll see you girls on Monday. Enjoy your weekend.” 

The girls quickly say their thanks and split off into their own cliques. They look tired, but definitely satisfied after what was an extremely productive training session. Haseul hopes that they can maintain this momentum. She’ll have to start looking into some endurance and stamina training, to ensure that her players can outlast opponents in games. 

A finger gently taps her on her shoulder. Turning around, Haseul comes face-to-face with Vivi, who has a small smile on her face. 

“Thanks for today’s training session. I hope the girls didn’t give you too much trouble.” 

Haseul waves her hands frantically. “No! Not at all, they’re great to coach. I have a really good feeling about this season, actually.” 

“That’s great to hear, I’m so glad,” Vivi’s face lights up when she laughs, and Haseul has to remind herself not to stare too hard. “Are you going home after this?”

What Vivi doesn’t know is that Haseul’s home is parked right outside the school. “H-home? I mean, I guess so…?” 

“You drove to school, right? In that case, do you mind giving me a ride back to my place?” 

Haseul cringes when she remembers the stray trash and underwear strewn around the interior of her entire car, along with the numerous knick-knacks and essential items occupying her backseat. 

“I… uhh… I…” 

“Oh! I didn’t mean to impose on you! I totally understand if you’re uncomfortable with driving me home… How about I just walk you to your car?” 

A surge of anxiety shoots through Haseul’s chest. Vivi can’t know that she’s a homeless bum. It’ll completely ruin her impression of Haseul, and she even wore a suit for their first meeting! 

But Vivi is looking at her so innocently that Haseul just can’t bring herself to say no. 

“O-okay,” Haseul nods stiffly, suddenly acutely aware of how stuffy she feels in her suit. “Let’s go, then.” 

Once they reach the school’s parking lot, Haseul is beginning to have second thoughts. Is it too late to lie and tell Vivi that she doesn’t actually have a car? Would she be so gullible as to believe that Haseul actually walked all the way here from the city, with her belongings tied within a little red handkerchief on the end of a long stick? 

She grimaces when they near her 2010 Honda Accord. In her rush to meet Vivi and the team, she completely forgot to remove the bright red panties hanging off the headrests of one of the backseats.

Sharp as ever, Vivi latches onto the discrepancy immediately.

“What’s with all the clothes in the backseat? Wait, is that a full-sized whiteboard?” 

Haseul’s mouth opens and closes. At the sight of Vivi’s puzzled expression, she lets out a heavy sigh. The game is up.

“Well… to tell you the truth, I couldn’t find a place to spend the night. And I don’t really have a place to stay right now. D-don’t worry though! I’ll find a place soon enough, and I’ll be able to clear out all this junk in my backseat, so there’s really nothing for you to be concerned about! Haha…” 

When Vivi doesn’t respond, her facial expression completely unreadable, Haseul realises that she’s completely blown her chance with the cute teacher-advisor of the basketball team. She hangs her head, feeling pathetic and lame. 

“...W-well, I guess I’ll be seeing you on Monday. Bye!” Fumbling with her car keys, Haseul hastily opens her car door and slips inside, turning on the engine at record speed. Maybe if she drives away quickly enough, she’ll be able to completely wipe Vivi’s memories of the dumpster fire that exists inside her car. 

Haseul lets out a surprised scream when the passenger door opens, and Vivi slips into the car next to her. She doesn’t waste any time, dumping any trash within her reach into a stray plastic bag. Then, she starts tinkering with the car’s rudimentary GPS system. 

“H-hey! What are you doing?!” 

“Inputting directions. Now shh…” Vivi doesn’t miss a beat, continuing to fiddle with the knobs and the tiny keypad on the car’s input dashboard.

“Directions? To where?” 

There’s a loud ping, and the screen jumps to life. It’s a roadmap of the city, with a red line connecting the school to an apartment building ten minutes away. 

“My house!” Comes the eager reply.

“Your house? But- but why?” 

Vivi turns to her and smiles. 

“Let’s just say I’ve been looking for a flatmate…” 

-

The sun is already set by the time Vivi sets down the last box on the floor. She stands up, stretches her back, and lets out a tired sigh. 

It took a lot of convincing, but Haseul reluctantly agreed to become Vivi’s flatmate. To be honest, Vivi was surprised that Haseul was so opposed to the idea initially. Perhaps her pride overruled any sense of rational judgment. But after Vivi reminded her that sleeping on a bed is infinitely more comfortable than in the cluttered backseat of a car, Haseul finally caved. 

Since Haseul is going to be a walking financial disaster for the foreseeable future, Vivi will have to cover rent for both of them in the meantime. But Haseul agreed to give her rides to and from school every day. It’s a small price to pay in exchange for having her own personal chauffeur. 

Huffing and puffing, Haseul barges through the doorway, carrying a heavy box in her arms. The floor shudders slightly when she finally sets it down. 

“Phew! That should be the last of them,” Haseul takes a quick look around the flat, letting out a low whistle. “This is a pretty nice place.” 

Vivi makes a quick sweep of her new flat, and she just can’t see what Haseul does. The ceiling is too low, the kitchen is too big. The place is sparsely furnished and looks barely lived in. Work has been so hectic that Vivi hasn’t even been able to find the time to decorate. Not to mention, she hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since she arrived in Loona Town. 

“Haha, it’s not much, to be honest…” Vivi scratches her cheek sheepishly. Right now, she’d give anything to be back at her family home in the city. 

“Augh, my back…” Haseul collapses onto the sofa in the living room. Vivi sinks into the spot next to her, completely spent after a long afternoon of moving. 

“Thanks,” Haseul’s voice trembles slightly.

“Hmm?” Vivi turns over, paying attention to Haseul’s expression. Behind her loud, rambunctious exterior, she looks rather jaded. 

“For letting me move in,” Haseul picks at the buttons of her shirt. She nervously clears her throat. “I’ll start looking for a job tomorrow. That way I can pay for the rent and stuff. Don’t worry about the funding for team activities, I’ll find a way to handle it.”

“I’ll help out too,” Vivi replies. “We’re going to need to make jerseys for the girls, right?”

Haseul nods thoughtfully. “Maybe a bag of new basketballs too. The ones at school are old and deflated. We also have to rent a coach to drive them to games…” Haseul begins to rattle off a list of things they’re going to need in order to ensure the team operates smoothly, from towels to hydrating salts, even a portable cooler. Things that the school would have provided if they didn’t cut funding to the team. Things that Vivi and Haseul will have to purchase out of their own pocket.

A pang of guilt stabs at Vivi’s heart. Haseul’s sole focus should be on coaching the team, and not concerning herself with trivial administrative matters. That’s supposed to be Vivi’s job. She’s been putting all her effort into running the basketball team, but it feels like she’s barely keeping her head above water.

Of course, this is her first time taking on such a role. Mistakes are to be expected, so she should cut herself some slack. It’s just a shame that the lack of support and funding provided by the school only seeks to make her job that much harder, making her feel even more out of her depth. 

Sometimes, Vivi fears that she isn’t capable enough, that she might have bitten off more than she can chew. 

“Leave the admin stuff to me. You shouldn't have to worry about these sorts of things,” Vivi insists. 

Haseul waves away her protests. “I don’t mind helping out with the boring shit. After all, I really owe you big time.”

“If anything, I’m the one who owes you,” Vivi shakes her head gently. “We were searching everywhere for a coach, but nobody was willing to take a chance on us. We were starting to lose hope at one point.”

She tilts her head and smiles at Haseul. “Well, until you showed up.” 

“You’re saying this like I’m some kind of saviour or something.” 

“Well, yeah. If you didn’t agree to take on the job, the team would’ve been forced to disband.”

“...Huh,” Haseul’s eyes are wide in shock. “Wow. Uh, that escalated quickly.” 

“Let’s just say our Head of Co-curricular Development kind of has it out for the basketball team,” Vivi says bitterly.

“This school is kinda fucked up.”

Vivi giggles at Haseul’s blunt remark. “Tell me about it.” 

“You know, when I got fired from my last job, I thought I’d never get another shot at coaching again,” Haseul twiddles her thumbs pensively. “For one reason or another, the teams I coached never seemed to perform well in matches. It’s a results-based business at the end of the day. If you don’t meet expectations, you get fired. That’s just how it is.” 

“When I didn’t manage to land another job, I thought that this was gonna be the end of the road for me. No self-respecting basketball programme would hire a coach with a shitty record like mine,” A dry chuckle escapes Haseul’s mouth. “When you contacted me that night, I knew that this was my last chance to coach a team. That’s why I took the job.” 

“So, if we’re being technical about it, you technically saved me.” 

Under the dim lighting of Vivi’s living room, Haseul’s skin glows golden. She smiles, revealing rows of teeth that shine like unblemished oyster pearls. 

Vivi brings a hand to her face. It’s abnormally warm to the touch. “Technically, we saved each other, didn’t we?” 

“Huh, I should’ve thought of that,” Haseul muses. She leans back against the sofa, letting out a light sigh. “The last two days have been pretty crazy. I went from almost giving up on coaching entirely to becoming the head coach of a high school team. Talk about failing upwards.” 

“You better not make me regret hiring you,” Vivi warns playfully.  

Haseul nods. “I’m gonna show everyone what our girls are made of,” She lets out a loud exhale, shoulders slumping as she does so. 

“I really, really want this to work out.” 

“Me too,” Vivi says softly. The basketball team isn’t disbanding anytime soon. Not on her watch. “I’m counting on you, partner.” 

An earnest laugh. Vivi decides that she likes Haseul’s laugh. “Counting on you too!”

They fall into a comfortable silence. Just for a moment, content in their newfound security, and becoming accustomed to the other’s presence. Vivi figures that sharing a flat with Haseul shouldn’t be too difficult. If anything, the flat already feels a lot less empty.

“Aww, that deer looks lonely,” Haseul points toward a deer plushie that Vivi perched on the pre-installed shelf about a week ago. 

She jumps off the sofa and begins to rummage through her belongings. “I know it’s around here somewhere… Aha!” 

Haseul pulls something out of the box, holding it in the air triumphantly. Upon closer look, it’s a small grey seal plush. 

Haseul skips over to the shelf and places her plushie next to Vivi’s deer plush. Suddenly, the room seems to turn several shades brighter.

“There! Looks much better, doesn’t it?” Haseul looks back and flashes Vivi a toothy smile. 

She won’t admit this to Haseul until much later, but at that moment, Vivi’s entire world explodes into a prismatic array of colours.

Chapter Text

The rest of the team is already gathered at the front of the school by the time Yeojin comes sprinting over, significantly weighed down by her gigantic backpack. 

Hyeju takes one look at her and bursts out laughing. 

“That backpack is as big as you are!” Hyeju wheezes. Yeojin lightly punches her in the side. 

“Shut up. My mom made me overpack,” Yeojin grumbles. 

“Mine… did… too…!” Yerim grunts as she hoists a duffel bag over each shoulder.

Turning back to look at her significantly lighter camping bag, Hyeju balks at Yeojin and Yerim. “What the hell did you guys bring?”

“Drugs,” Yeojin says without missing a beat, and Yerim’s eyes bulge out of her sockets.

“U-um! My mom says that drugs are bad for you…” Yerim says nervously.

“Yes, Yerim, we know,” Yeojin pats her shoulder reassuringly. “I don’t have any drugs on me. I’m clean!” 

Yeojin takes a moment to survey the rest of the team. Sooyoung and Jinsol are together, laughing at something on Jinsol’s phone. The five second-years are huddled in a small circle, excitedly observing an ant trail. They’re a strange bunch, that’s for sure. 

Over the past week, she’s gotten to know the rest of the team through their regular practices together.  They’re all really nice, and everyone is cordial with one another, but a degree of separation still exists between the three distinct cliques. 

Of course, it’s something that comes naturally with unfamiliarity. But other than that second-year Jiwoo, who seems determined to make friends with everyone and everything, the rest of the team seldom mingle with one another outside of practice. 

If nothing else, Yeojin hopes the cohesion camp will help to change that somewhat. 

A loud honk snaps Yeojin out of her thoughts. A weary-looking van pulls up by the side of the road. Coach Haseul rolls down the window, grinning from ear to ear, while Miss Vivi waves at them from the passenger seat. 

“Rise and shine, people! Hope you girls are excited.”

“Yes, Coach. We are very excited,” Sooyoung says in what could possibly be the most robotic voice Yeojin has ever heard. 

Coach Haseul gives Sooyoung a weird look. “...Right. Okay! No time to waste, put your stuff in the trunk and hop in. Let’s go, let’s go!” 

The trunk isn’t spacious enough to accommodate all of their luggage, so it spills over into the back row, where Jiwoo, Jungeun, and Chaewon are currently seated. Heejin and Hyunjin take the seats directly in front of them, while Sooyoung and Jinsol take the row behind Yeojin and her fellow-first years, who are right behind the driver’s seat. 

“Settle in and get comfortable, people. We’re gonna be on the road for a while,” Coach Haseul turns on the radio, and trendy pop music fills the interior of the van. 

“Groovy,” Hyeju quips. Yeojin casts her eyes toward Yerim, who is nodding along to the beat of the song.

“Coach! Are you taking song requests?!” Jiwoo’s shrill voice travels from the back row. 

“Ooh! Ooh! Can you play Silhouette by Kana-”

Jungeun rises from her seat to smack Heejin on the upside of her head. “Hey, no anime shit.”

“Aw…”

Jungeun fiddles with her phone and uses it to tap Hyunjin on the shoulder. “I have a road trip playlist. Pass it on to Coach.” 

“You’re doing too much,” Chaewon mumbles. 

“I’m educating the masses. The people need to know what good music sounds like,” Jungeun replies, looking more animated than usual. 

The phone is moved from the back of the van to Vivi in the passenger seat. She plugs the phone into the aux cord, and stylish guitar chords glide out of the van’s inbuilt speakers. 

“Ah! I know this song!” Yerim whispers excitedly. “She has really good taste.” 

“It’s like, one song,” Always the realist, Hyeju shuts her down swiftly. “The next song in rotation might be the most horrific garbage to ever grace your ears.”

Yerim pouts while narrowing her eyes at Hyeju. “That’s not very nice. We should have some faith in her playlist!”

“Yeah, like your playlist is any better,” Yeojin throws a light jab in Hyeju’s direction. 

Hyeju glowers back. “I have really good music taste, thank you very much.” 

“Bitch, please. I saw you listening to emo ambiance ten hours version yester-”

A hard smack on the head from Hyeju promptly shuts Yeojin up. “You promised you wouldn’t tell.” 

“Ow, you bitch!” Yeojin promptly smacks Hyeju back.

For the next hour, the van is filled with light, comfortable chatter as Yeojin spends time with her friends. It’s easy to forget that she’s only known Hyeju and Yerim for two weeks. There are still a lot of things she doesn’t know about both of them. 

Considering the fact that they’re only about a quarter way through the four-hour journey to their destination, Yeojin supposes there’s no better time to get to know them better than the present. 

“So…” Yeojin drags out the syllable, getting Hyeju and Yerim’s attention. “What kind of houses do you guys live in?” 

Hyeju shoots her a suspicious look. “Why do you wanna know?”

“You could’ve just told us that you lived in a dirty little trailer park, there’s no need to be ashamed about it,” Yeojin smirks. 

“But I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I’ve connected the dots.”

“You didn’t connect shit.”

“I’ve connected them.”

“Bah!” Hyeju furiously swipes through her phone and turns the screen to Yeojin and Yerim. It’s a picture of a modest-looking apartment building. “Here. This is where I live. Happy now?”

“Hm. Looks surprisingly normal,” Yeojin muses. “And it’s pretty close to my house! Hey, you wanna walk to school together?” 

Hyeju fake gags. “I’d rather eat cooked snails than see your stupid face every single morning.”

“Well, I like escargots…” Yerim says timidly. 

Yeojin and Hyeju stare at her like she’s got two heads. 

“Esca-what?” 

“Escargots. It’s an exotic French delicacy. I ate it when I went to Paris last year,” Yerim explains.

“You’ve been to Paris?” Hyeju asks incredulously. 

Yerim nods enthusiastically. “My parents saved for five years to take us there!” 

Yeojin lets out a low whistle. “Now that’s dedication.” 

“Must’ve cost a bomb to travel there. All that expensive shit,” Hyeju shudders. “I could’ve bought a sick gaming rig with that much money.”

“Wait, you play games?” Yeojin asks excitedly.

“Yeah. Mainly FPS, but sometimes I play Animal Crossing to relax.” 

“No fuckin’ way, me too!” Yeojin raises her palm toward Hyeju, who slams her fist into it. Yeojin yelps at the painful sting. 

“You play games, Yerim?” Hyeju asks Yerim, whose face turns slightly red.

“Um… Does Cooking Mama count?” 

Yeojin and Hyeju look at each other. 

“Eh, game’s a game, I guess.” Hyeju shrugs.

“Also explains how you’re such a good cook!” Yeojin pats Yerim on the shoulder.

“That’s not how it works, Yeojin.”

As Yerim continues sharing about the time she got lost in Paris and had to learn sign language on the fly to communicate with the locals, the topic of their conversation gradually shifts toward the rest of their team members. 

“You guys think Cap is a robot?” Yeojin slyly glances back. Sooyoung is seated in a perfectly upright position, snoring softly as she sleeps. 

“Come to think of it, I’ve never seen Sooyoung sweat. It’s almost like she can never get wet!” Yerim says innocently. Yeojin and Hyeju suppress their giggles. 

“What did you mean by that?” Hyeju asks while wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“H-huh? I mean-”

“Didn’t think you’d be that freaky, Yerim,” Yeojin snickers. Yerim’s innocence is so endearing that Yeojin can’t help but make fun of her sometimes. 

Yerim narrows her eyes. “Is this another dirty joke I’m not getting?” 

“You wanna see Sooyoung wet, huh?” Hyeju says with a wolfish grin.

Yeojin nudges her in the ribs. “Dude, shut up! She’s gonna hear you,” She sneaks another glance back, and to her surprise, Sooyoung is still fast asleep. 

“She sleeps like a log,” Yerim observes. 

“Yeah, a bit like that Chaewon girl. She’s always either sleeping or sulking around,” Yeojin turns to look at Hyeju, whose expression turns several shades darker.

“Hyeju, are you okay? You look mad,” Yerim asks worriedly. 

“I’m fine,” Hyeju snaps, sounding anything but fine. 

Yeojin recalls Hyeju’s altercation with Chaewon during their first practice together. She got a few details from Yerim, but even she didn’t know much, just that Hyeju wasn’t happy with something Chaewon did, or maybe it was something Chaewon wasn’t doing. 

Obviously, being closer to Hyeju, Yeojin is naturally compelled to side with her friend. But she didn’t mark Hyeju out to be the confrontational type. 

“Have you guys talked? Since, you know…” Yeojin waves her arms around to telepathically communicate with Hyeju. 

“No, there’s nothing to talk about,” Hyeju folds her arms defensively. 

“What is it about her that gets you all worked up?” Yeojin continues to prod. 

“She just…” Hyeju blows air out of her nostrils. “She’s so… unserious. She’s not even trying when we’re practicing. It’s like she doesn’t even want to be here. How can we even trust her to be a good teammate?”

“Well… maybe this cohesion camp will change her attitude?” Yerim offers a placating sentiment. But Hyeju looks unsure, still seeming a little peeved. 

Yeojin follows Hyeju’s furtive gaze, her eyes eventually landing on Chaewon. Her large headphones are fitted snugly over her ears, and she’s fully engrossed in her Nintendo Switch. 

“I sure fuckin’ hope so,” Hyeju grunts. 

“Sheesh, someone’s got their titties in a twist,” A shrill “ow” escapes Yeojin’s mouth when Hyeju punches her in the shoulder. 

“Shut up, Yeojin.”

-

When the team finally arrive at their destination, Yeojin can’t help but feel a little underwhelmed. 

Their campsite is located in a small clearing, just by the edge of a mountain hiking trail. A public bathroom is available a short distance away, and Yeojin just prays that it’s clean. An aged basketball court can even be spotted not far from the campsite. They’re a basketball team, after all. Yeojin should’ve expected a basketball court to be at the place they’d be camping at for the weekend.                                                         

Beside her, Jungeun lets out a loud groan. 

“Camping not your thing?” Yeojin asks Jungeun, who runs a hand over her face.

“I hate bugs…” Jungeun sulks. 

“I hate everything about this place,” Chaewon mumbles and wipes the sweat away from her forehead.

After painstakingly moving their bags and gear to the campsite, Coach Haseul immediately instructs them to start pitching their tents. 

It’s a tedious and arduous process, made harder by several clumsy individuals (Heejin and Jinsol) who keep tripping over the tent pegs and getting tangled in the cover sheet, something Yeojin didn’t know was even possible. 

They eventually manage to pitch their tents, but not after several nervous breakdowns and a lot of angry yelling. When they finish, the sun hangs high overhead. Everyone is already tired and irritable, not to mention hungry. Yeojin could eat a horse right now. 

Unfortunately, Coach Haseul doesn’t plan on letting them off so easily. 

“Alright! I hope everybody’s hungry!” The team cheers, very much looking forward to a well-earned lunch break. “Well, that’s too bad! We’re going on a run to work up an appetite. If you want lunch, you’re gonna have to earn it first.”

The team lets out an even louder groan in response. 

“Less moaning, more running! Move it, people. Move it!” 

Standing by at the start point of their run, Yeojin tries to ignore the rumbling in her stomach and focus on the run ahead. She’s a pretty fast runner, so she’ll wrap this up quickly and be the first one back for lunch. Easy peasy. 

The only problem; Coach Haseul has no intention of making this easy. 

“I almost forgot! I’m gonna be pairing you girls up. For the duration of the camp, you and your partner will be conjoined at the hip, and that rule also applies to this run. If you leave your partner behind, I’m gonna have to punish both of you. So you better learn to start working together if you wanna survive the next two days.” 

A tense silence settles on the team, as they learn who their partners will be for the duration of the camp. It probably wouldn’t be such a big deal, if there wasn’t a punishment for not adhering to the rules. At this point in time, they have no idea what Coach Haseul has up her sleeve. 

Coach Haseul takes out her clipboard, and begins reading off it. “Alright! Here we go. Yeojin, you’ll be paired up with Heejin.” 

Yeojin turns her head to search for Heejin, spotting her slightly further back. Heejin scampers over to her and flashes a tired smile. 

“You run fast?” Yeojin asks. Heejin laughs nervously. 

“Not really. I’m the slowest in my class.”

Damn. Yeojin worries her lower lip. “It’s all good. Let’s just try not to come last.”

Heejin nods in agreement, and Yeojin turns her attention back to Coach Haseul, who continues rattling off the other pairings.

“... Jinsol and Jiwoo, Hyunjin and Yerim, Jungeun will be paired with Sooyoung, and last but not least, we have Hyeju and Chaewon. Alright! Any objections?” 

Yeojin grimaces when the last pairing is called. This might be a problem. A very big problem. She sneaks a glance at Hyeju, who has an absolutely murderous look on her face. 

“Alright, people! Start warming up. I’ve briefed Sooyoung on the route, so she’ll be setting the pace. Rangers lead the way! Woop, woop!” 

Sooyoung claps twice and raises her fist in the air. “Rangers.”

“I’ll be the rear sweeper. The pair who is right in front of me at the end of the run has to do a forfeit. Capiche? Alright, everybody! We’re starting the run now. Ready, get set, go!” 

Without warning, Sooyoung and Jungeun shoot forward, already setting a brutally fast pace. The other pairs scramble to catch up. Hyunjin streaks after the pair in front, while Yerim follows several paces behind. Not to be outdone, Jiwoo and Jinsol eagerly sprint ahead to give chase.

Yeojin would like nothing more than to sprint after them, but she knows that she has to accommodate Heejin, who doesn’t have the best stamina. They start with a slow jog that in any other circumstances would place them far behind the rest of the pack. 

Fortunately, there’s another pair even slower than they are. 

Turning her head to look back, Yeojin snickers when she spots Hyeju yelling at Chaewon to stop walking and start running. Perhaps in an act of defiance, Chaewon just opts to walk slightly faster. 

“Heejin, look at those idiots,” Yeojin nods behind her, towards Hyeju and Chaewon. 

“I… knew that… putting them together… was going to be… a bad… idea…” Heejin pants, already completely out of breath. 

Yeojin spares another look back. Hyeju is now physically pushing Chaewon forward, while Coach Haseul is blowing her whistle incessantly, trying to get the disastrous pair to start running faster. 

“Yeah, no kidding,” Yeojin mutters, as she starts picking up the pace. 

-

This is the worst day of Hyeju’s life. 

It’s sweltering out here. The sun hangs high over them like an oven lamp, and Hyeju feels like she’s about to get completely baked through. It doesn’t help that Coach Haseul is constantly whistling into her ear, pushing Hyeju and her useless partner to run faster. 

The gap between them and the pair in front has been increasing steadily. They’ll be long gone by the time they round the next bend. 

Hyeju bites back a frustrated growl. She casts a glance at her partner, who looks just about ready to faint. What a fucking weakling. She’s probably never done a day’s worth of exercise in her life. What the hell is she even doing on a basketball team? Never mind that, why is she even on the team if she’s not committed to working hard? There’s just so much about Park Chaewon that Hyeju cannot understand. 

“Would it hurt to run a little faster?” Hyeju snaps. In response, Chaewon shoots her a stormy glare. 

“I’m running.”

“Not fast enough.” 

“I’m tired.”

“Are you trying to get us fucking punished?!” This is getting ridiculous now. It feels like they’re going at a snail’s pace, and Coach Haseul seems to echo that sentiment, her whistling growing in frequency and intensity. 

“What’s your problem? I’m running,” Chaewon grumbles. It’s clear that she isn’t enjoying this either.

Maybe it’s the heat. Maybe it’s the constant rumbling of her empty stomach, or maybe it’s Coach Haseul’s incessant whistling and prodding. Something inside Hyeju snaps. She’s had enough of dealing with this lazy excuse of a human being. She doesn’t want anything to do with Chaewon anymore. 

“You’re fucking unbelievable,” Without another word, Hyeju lengthens her strides, leaving Chaewon in the dust. 

It feels good to go fast. Hyeju’s heart soars as she feels the wind roaring in her ears, whipping against her face and blowing her hair back. She’s not going to spend another second worrying about her partner. How bad can the punishment be anyway? Probably a quick clean-up after lunch. Doing that in exchange for not running with that snail makes breaking the rules more than worth it. 

She blitzes past Heejin and Yeojin, who are jogging at a leisurely pace. Heejin seems to be clutching her side, while Yeojin is setting the pace, careful not to go too fast so that Heejin can keep up. Good on Yeojin for being accommodating, but Hyeju isn’t nearly as tolerant. 

Keep up or you’ll be left behind. That’s all there is to it. If Chaewon is unable or unwilling to maintain the same pace as Hyeju, then Hyeju doesn’t need her. As a matter of fact, she doesn’t need anyone. 

It doesn’t take long for her to catch up to the rest of the pack. Jiwoo lets out a surprised gasp when she shoots past her and Jinsol. She even almost manages to catch up with Hyunjin and Yerim close toward the endpoint, but Hyeju is just glad for the workout.

Jiwoo is the first one to approach her. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Wonwon?” She asks curiously. 

Hyeju clicks her tongue, annoyed by the endearing nickname. She can’t imagine how a sloth like Park Chaewon could possibly have any friends. “She was slow. I left her behind.” 

Jiwoo chokes out a nervous laugh. “Yeah… That’s just how she is!” 

“But why?” Hyeju throws up her hands in frustration. “Why be on the team if you’re not gonna try?” 

“She’s doing me a favour,” Jungeun steps forward and gives Hyeju a hard look. “She’s not trying to get in the way. So lay off her, yeah?” 

Hyeju doesn’t like this at all. But if Chaewon’s friends are fine with her being on the team and dragging everyone else down, who is she to argue?

“Yeah. Whatever,” Hyeju grumbles. 

They spend another ten minutes waiting around until Chaewon finally rounds the last bend and enters the final stretch, Coach Haseul whistling encouragement at her the entire way.

“Woohoo! Good job, Wonwon!” Jiwoo pats Chaewon on the back, who almost falls over in exhaustion. 

“About damn time,” Jungeun says with a grim smile. 

Coach Haseul’s shrill whistle silences the group. She doesn’t look very happy. 

“Hyeju,” Her voice is dangerously low. Hyeju swallows thickly. “I gave you explicit instructions to stick with your partner at all times, didn’t I?” 

“Yes, Coach…” 

“If we’re in a real game and your teammate is having a bad game, are you gonna leave them to flounder?” 

Hyeju stares down at her scuffed trainers, not daring to raise her head. “No, Coach…” 

“Didn’t think so. Unfortunately, actions have consequences. I have a feeling you’re not gonna like the punishment.” 

Coach Haseul pulls out a green sash, and Hyeju’s heart sinks. She has a bad feeling about this. 

“Give me your hands.” 

Hyeju groans loudly. Beside her, Chaewon’s dissatisfaction is practically radiating off her body. 

“Coach, come on-”

“Your hands, please.”

With an exasperated sigh, Hyeju reluctantly holds out her right hand, while Chaewon holds out her left. A couple of knots later, the disastrous duo is now permanently connected, whether they like it or not. 

“A team is only as strong as its weakest link,” Coach Haseul announces. “When the going gets tough, we need to stick together. I’m making an example out of Hyeju and Sleepyhead. If you can’t work with your teammate, then I’ll have to make you learn the hard way. Capiche?”

“Yes, Coach…” The rest of the team responds, except for Hyeju, who is glaring at the sash tied around both hers and Chaewon’s wrists, and Chaewon, who is still struggling to catch her breath. 

Satisfied, Coach Haseul claps her hands together. “Alright! Who’s up for lunch?”

-

Miss Vivi pulled out all the stops for lunch, with a pre-packed meal she prepared the previous night that is healthy, nutritious, and absolutely fucking delicious. 

If only she wasn’t constantly fighting with Chaewon over who got to scoop their food first, Hyeju might’ve actually enjoyed herself. She develops a new-found hatred for stubborn left-handed people over the course of the meal. 

After lunch, Coach Haseul dumps a bunch of crafting materials onto the communal table they’re sitting around. 

“While waiting for the food to digest, I want you to make a friendship bracelet for your partner. Make it personal, and take this time to get to know each other better. You have one hour.” 

Hyeju would rather choke on rice than make a friendship bracelet for someone she doesn’t even consider a friend, but Yerim slides over the string and a packet of alphabet beads. At that point, she doesn’t really have an excuse not to do it. 

“Move,” Hyeju feels her right hand being tugged. To her chagrin, Chaewon is using her left hand to tear open a pack of decorative beads. 

“You know you have another hand, right?” 

“My left is dominant,” Chaewon replies simply. Hyeju scoffs at the way she sticks her tongue out as she carefully slides a bead through the string. 

“There’s no way you’re actually taking this seriously,” Hyeju grumbles, grabbing a pair of scissors and stabbing open her packet of beads. 

“I’m having as much fun as you are,” Chaewon says moodily. 

“So, not a lot then?” Hyeju tries for a joke. It doesn’t land, and Chaewon’s expression darkens. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” Chaewon mumbles, fully focused on making the bracelet. She doesn’t even spare Hyeju a second glance. 

That suits Hyeju just fine. She gets to work, hell-bent on making the most lousy-looking friendship bracelet anyone will ever have the displeasure of receiving. If Chaewon isn’t interested in talking, then she isn’t either. 

They spend the rest of the hour in sullen silence. 

-

When Coach Haseul announces that they’ll be having a light practice session after making their bracelets, Heejin can’t help but feel excited. It’s been a rough day so far, what with the exhausting run and the boredom-inducing bracelet-making session. 

At least playing basketball is something familiar to her. After all, isn’t getting better at playing as a team the main purpose of this cohesion camp?

Ten minutes into their “light” training session, Heejin is face-down on the floor in the push-up position, regretting all of her prior life decisions. 

A shrill whistle pounds her eardrums, making her groan in agony.

“You call that shitty form a push-up?! My gran could do better than you, and she’s sitting in a goddamn wheelchair!” Coach Haseul bellows.

Heejin weakly lifts her head. All around her on the court, the rest of the team is also doing push-ups, some performing way better than others. She spots Sooyoung and Jungeun pumping out reps with perfect form, while Chaewon is lying facedown on the ground, completely dead to the world. 

Another whistle rings around the court. “Alright, people! We’re practicing midrangers now! Ten seconds, let’s go, let’s go!” 

Scrambling to her feet, Heejin grabs a stray ball and steps into line, restlessly waiting for her turn to shoot. Ahead of her, Sooyoung, Hyunjin, and Yeojin successfully sink their shots. 

Arms trembling from fatigue, Heejin aims carefully before she lets the ball fly. It arcs through the air and sinks into the hoop with a swish. She breathes a sigh of relief, grateful for the short respite from Coach Haseul’s relentless hammering. 

Unfortunately, Jiwoo’s shot hits the rim immediately afterward, and the entire team groans in unison. 

Coach Haseul blows her whistle again, her lips contorted into a slightly sadistic smile. “Alright! Ten counts of jumping jacks! Move it, move it! One, two, three, four. Two, two…” 

For the next hour, every missed shot, every errant pass, and every bad rebound is met with a collective punishment from Coach Haseul, who wouldn’t look out of place as a drill sergeant in the military. Push-ups, sit-ups, jumping jacks, flutter kicks, lunges, burpees. If the exercise existed, Coach Haseul forced them to do it. 

Such was the relentless intensity and frequency of the exercises that Haseul made them take mandatory breaks every fifteen minutes. It gives Heejin just enough time to collapse wherever she is on the court, and watch the stars swim across her vision.

When Coach Haseul blows for another break, the strength in Heejin’s legs completely dissipates. She crashes to the ground in a heap. Her head is pounding, and she has the uncomfortable urge to puke out her lunch. 

Maybe her chronic lack of fitness is a sign. Maybe her body is telling her that she just isn’t cut out for competitive sports. Maybe she should stop living in her delusions of winning basketball games. Maybe she should just give up. 

Something cold is pressed against her cheek, and Heejin squeals in surprise. She looks up to see Hyunjin staring down at her, with a cold water bottle in her hand. 

“Thirsty?” Hyunjin holds out the water bottle, and Heejin groans again. 

“I think I’m gonna puke…” 

“It’s not good to lie down. You need to stand up. It helps with your blood flow,” With Hyunjin’s help, Heejin staggers to her feet, squeezing her eyes shut as the world spins around her. 

Strong arms grab onto her shoulders, and Heejin slowly opens her eyes again. As steady as a rock, Hyunjin holds her in place, preventing her from keeling over. 

Heejin blinks rapidly, trying to stop herself from staring at the way Hyunjin’s long lashes flash golden in the afternoon sunlight. 

“Good to go?” Hyunjin asks, voice laced with concern.

“Y-yeah…” Heejin stammers, still in a fatigue-induced daze. She takes the water bottle offered to her and chugs down about a quarter of its contents. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

“Is everybody alright?” Sooyoung yells to the rest of the team. Her face is flushed red, long hair plastered to her sweaty face, but determination is etched into her hard expression. She looks ready to see this training session through to the end. 

“Yes, Captain!” The rest of the team struggles to their feet, mentally preparing themselves for another round of hammering. Except for Chaewon, who has to be pulled up to a standing position. 

“Break time’s over, people! We’re gonna start on scrimmage games! If your team loses, you’ll have to do a forfeit. Sound good?”

“Yes, Coach!” The team responds with a newfound spirit. 

Coach Haseul laughs heartily. “That’s what I like to hear! Alright, I’ll be splitting you up now. Heejin, Hyeju, Yeojin…” 

The scrimmage games are a nice change of pace from the intense workouts they were made to do prior. Both teams are absolutely exhausted, but are spurred on by the fear of incurring a forfeit should they lose. Knowing what Coach Haseul is capable of, they’d rather not take the risk. 

They play hard, as much as their tired bodies will allow them, trying to apply everything they’ve learned over the past week. With their first competitive game less than a month away, this series of scrims will be a serviceable litmus test for how cohesive they are as a team. 

Unfortunately, Heejin’s team loses the first game. By popular vote, they are forced to do a recorded version of the chicken dance as a forfeit. 

“This is incredible blackmail material,” Jungeun muses as she keeps her phone camera trained on Jiwoo, who tries to shield her face while flapping her arms at the same time. 

“Jungie! I have a reputation!” Jiwoo complains while Sooyoung shakes her butt to the beat of the song, causing the rest of the team to break out into gut-busting laughter. 

“We’ll get back at her,” Yeojin says through gritted teeth. Heejin nods along as she wiggles to the song’s rhythm. She doesn’t want to get humiliated like this ever again. 

Jungeun’s defeat in the next scrim means she is forced to sing a solo rendition of “My Heart Will Go On”. 

“...You’re… here… there’s NOTHING I FEAR…” Jungeun screams into her phone, which she uses as a makeshift microphone, no doubt spurred on by the cheers of an adoring audience. 

“SIGN MY AUTOGRAPH!” Jiwoo does her best fangirl impression, pretending to wipe away tears. 

Heejin whoops in encouragement, her phone camera recording the entire thing. The day Jungeun does something to piss her off is the day this video will be shared with the world. 

The forfeits get more insane with each defeat, as nobody is spared from the wrath of Coach Haseul. Things go from bad to worse for Jiwoo, as she is forced to do a lap dance for Sooyoung.

The screams from the audience are deafening, equal parts horrified and thrilled, with Jinsol and Jungeun leading the chorus of whoops and screeches. Heejin covers Yeojin’s eyes from the disastrous scene in front of them, but the curious first-year keeps moving her hand away, completely engrossed. 

Nobody is more embarrassed than Jiwoo, hands covering her tomato-coloured face as she grinds down on Sooyoung, whose eyes are as wide as saucers, all semblances of composure completely gone. 

“Throw it back, Jiwoo baby!” Jungeun whoops as Jiwoo lets out a high whine.

“Sooyoung, use your hands, you coward!” Jinsol eggs on Sooyoung, whose hands are limp by her sides, blank face growing redder by the second. 

The best performance is saved for last, when a rare defeat for Hyunjin results in her having to do a duet with Chaewon. Except there’s a twist; Hyunjin can only make animal sounds, while Chaewon has to make use of her talent in ventriloquism, with her medium being a sock puppet with googly eyes drawn on with a marker. 

“Meow meow meow… Meow meow meow…”

“Oh, feel my one and only…” 

The audience completely loses it when Hyunjin starts barking, and Chaewon is so compelling as a ventriloquist that Heejin even spots Hyeju chuckling. 

They scrimmage and do forfeits until the sun begins to set, screaming and laughing until their voices turn hoarse, adrenaline dulling the painful aches in their muscles. 

When Coach Haseul finally blows her whistle to conclude the practice session, Heejin is surprised when she feels slightly reluctant to stop playing, considering how torturous it was during the first half. 

But when she searches the faces of her friends, realises that they’re all smiling and joking with one another, she figures that Coach Haseul knew what she was doing all along. 

“We’ve got a team now!” Coach Haseul exclaims, and the team cheers eagerly in response. “Okay! Take a shower and head to the grill. Miss Vivi is cooking up something good. After dinner, the rest of the time is yours. You’ve earned it.”

At the mention of food, Heejin’s stomach rumbles loudly. Talk about perfect timing. 

-

Dinner doesn’t disappoint. A mountain of grilled meat is piled sky-high on several plates, along with noodles and an assortment of vegetables. Coach Haseul even brings out a portable cooler, stocked with canned drinks and ice cream. It’s been a long and tiring day. The team deserves nothing less. 

Feeling refreshed after a long shower, Jungeun sits around the communal table with the rest of the team, lightly sipping on her drink. 

Laughter rings around the table as Hyunjin and Sooyoung are locked in an intense arm-wrestling battle. Heejin, Hyeju, Jiwoo, and Chaewon egg the competitors on, with Coach Haseul acting as the referee. 

At the far end of the table, Yerim and Yeojin are engaged in an animated conversation, snickering and giggling the entire time. A small smile makes its way onto Jungeun’s face. It’s nice to see her friends having fun together.

A plate of food is set before her, and Jungeun tilts her head to thank the person who gave it to her. At the sight of Jinsol’s nervous expression, her smile disappears. 

“...Thanks,” Jungeun says cautiously. She hesitantly puts a piece of meat into her mouth. It tastes like cardboard. She chokes it down and returns her attention to Jinsol, who looks equal parts hopeful and terrified. 

“Tired?” Jinsol is still standing, although she eyes the empty seat next to Jungeun on occasion. 

“A little. It’s been a long day,” They descend into an uncomfortable silence. “Did you want something?” Jungeun asks exasperatedly. 

“I…” Jinsol takes a hesitant breath. “Talk. Let’s- let’s talk. We should talk about us.” 

Jungeun heaves a sigh. Jinsol is right. They’ve been skirting around each other for the better part of two weeks now. There isn’t a better time to talk about their issues than the present. 

“You’re right,” Jungeun concedes. She makes a quick scan of the table, careful not to give reason for her teammates to become suspicious. “Let’s go somewhere else.” 

They quickly make their way to the edge of the campsite, shielded from view by some thick shrubbery, away from prying eyes. 

“Jungie…” Jinsol speaks in starts and stops. She rubs her arm nervously, gaze trained on the floor. “Do you hate me?” 

Jungeun’s hard look immediately softens. A part of her still wants to stay mad at Jinsol. But at the sight of her girlfriend’s lost and forlorn expression, it becomes clear that she won’t be able to maintain that anger for long. 

“No, I don’t hate you,” Jungeun eventually says. “I just hate how you never spend time with me anymore.” 

“I’m sorry. I know I have no excuse,” Jinsol says, her expression blooming with guilt. “It’s just… being a third-year is hard. I have a lot on my plate right now.” 

“You should’ve told me. I could have tried to help,” Jungeun takes her hand, surprised at how cold it is to the touch.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Jinsol mumbles, her voice small. 

“You don’t have to worry about me,“ Jungeun clutches Jinsol’s hand tighter, feeling the ridges of her knuckles against her thumb. “Right now, more than anything, I just… I want my girlfriend back.” 

Jinsol reaches out with her other hand, and Jungeun feels a gentle pressure on the top of her head. She melts into the touch, not realising how much she’s missed having Jinsol like this. 

“You’ve always had me,” Jinsol says quietly. “I was just worried that I lost you.” 

“Better keep worrying then, because Sooyoung is making for a pretty good camping partner,” Jungeun can’t resist the urge to be cheeky. “If I wasn’t dating you, well…” 

“Oh, please,” Jinsol rolls her eyes. “Sooyoung is such a dork. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

Leaning in closer, Jungeun presses her head to Jinsol’s strong shoulder. “I like my dorks. I’m dating you, for starters.” 

Jinsol puffs out her cheeks, a regular habit that makes her look like a fluffy bun. “Lucky me, I guess.” 

There’s a rustling in the bushes, causing them to jump and extricate themselves. Jungeun lets out a relieved breath when she realises that it’s only Yerim. 

“Hello,” Yerim says shyly. “We’re playing charades. Would you like to join us?”

“We’ll be there,” Jungeun replies with a smile. Yerim beams and disappears back into the bushes. 

“Let’s go,” Jinsol takes Jungeun’s hand, but Jungeun pulls her back. 

“If you’re having a tough time, you can always come to me. You know that, right?” Jungeun asks, hoping that Jinsol knows that she cares. She hasn’t exactly been the best girlfriend recently, so she’d like to try and make amends. 

“...I know,” Jinsol replies, but she doesn’t sound entirely convincing. 

Jungeun suppresses a frown. She decides to take Jinsol’s word for it. It wouldn’t hurt to be trusting for once, right?

-

Hyeju is woken up by the sound of rustling beside her, and the uncomfortable feeling of her arm being tugged. 

As her eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, she makes out the indistinct outline of Chaewon’s silhouette. She sits in an upright position, looking down at Hyeju with an uncomfortable expression. 

“What are you doing?” Hyeju hisses. 

“Bathroom,” Chaewon replies, at least having the decency to sound sheepish. 

A tick of irritation stabs through Hyeju’s forehead. She’s tired, her entire body hurts, and not to mention, she had to spend the entire day bound together with this idiot. Unfortunately, Coach Haseul was adamant that they keep the sash tied to their wrists when they slept. And now Chaewon needs to go for a late-night bathroom run. Just fucking great. 

“Hold it in till morning,” Hyeju grunts and rolls over.

“It’s urgent.” 

“I don’t care.”

“I’m gonna burst,” Chaewon whimpers pitifully, and Hyeju starts to weigh the pros and cons of having Chaewon pee right inside their tent. It’s humiliating, not to mention absolutely disgusting. And maybe Hyeju doesn’t want to deal with the fallout of that particular decision. 

“Oh, for fuck- fine, let’s go…” Hyeju sighs. 

After putting on their shoes and grabbing a flashlight, they walk toward the bathroom in stony silence. 

It’s dark. Very dark, in fact. With the exception of the light coming from Hyeju’s tiny flashlight, dense shrubbery blocks the moon from view, shrouding the campsite in an inky blackness. Hyeju feels goosebumps forming on the back of her neck. Being out and about in the middle of the night is way scarier than she thought. 

“Walk faster,” Hyeju whispers, suddenly feeling like the forest is alive and watching her every move.

Chaewon snickers, obviously sensing Hyeju’s uncertainty. “Why? You scared?”

“Am not,” Hyeju tries to argue, but it’s not really convincing when she’s prodding the small of Chaewon’s back, willing her to walk faster. 

Arranging their wrists to allow Chaewon to use the toilet takes some considerable effort. They eventually resort to Chaewon holding her arm out, while Hyeju turns away, her arm held out behind her.

“You better not look, pervert,” Chaewon warns as Hyeju hears the toilet seat being put down. 

“I-I’m not!” Hyeju tries not to let her thoughts run wild, but it’s not hard to imagine what’s going on right behind her. She swallows thickly, keeping her gaze trained ahead into the infinite darkness before her, unease growing with every passing second. 

After what is probably the most uncomfortable pee break of Chaewon’s life, they quickly make their way back to the campsite, snaking their way through a small patch of wooded forest. 

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For following me,” Chaewon keeps her gaze trained on the ground in front of them, careful not to trip on any rocks or branches. “It’d be kind of scary if I came out here alone.” 

Hyeju snorts, but there’s no malice in it. “And I thought I was the scared one.”

“You still are.” 

“Psh. Me? Scared? You’ve got to be kidding-” 

A loud snap rings out a short distance away, making both of them squeal in fright. 

“MeeEEEEEEE!”

Hyeju feels Chaewon’s lithe frame latch onto her arm. She can feel Chaewon’s heart hammering against her chest, while her own heart pounds in a similar rhythm. 

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” Hyeju mutters under her breath, frantically making a sweep of the forest clearing with her flashlight. Her search yields no sightings, which doesn’t reassure her in the slightest. 

“I-I-Is something there?” Chaewon whimpers in a tiny voice. Hyeju turns to her, trying to find something snappy to say, but the words die on her tongue when she realises that their faces are practically inches from each other. 

Even in the relative darkness, Hyeju can make out every detail of Chaewon’s fear-stricken face. Her large doe-like eyes, gentle nose, and heart-shaped lips. Either Hyeju is going insane from terror, or Chaewon has been cute this entire time, and Hyeju was just too bent on disliking her to notice. 

Hyeju holds her gaze for a moment too long, and Chaewon finally registers that she’s completely wrapped around Hyeju’s arm. They hastily disentangle and practically trip over themselves running back to their tent. 

Crawling back into her sleeping bag, Hyeju stares blankly at the flimsy ceiling of their tent. The fright from their earlier scare has already died down somewhat, but with the sudden hyper-awareness of Chaewon’s crumpled form next to her, Hyeju’s heart can’t seem to stop pounding. 

-

Coach Haseul’s wake-up call consists of a lot of shrill whistling, and plenty of incoherent yelling. 

This probably would’ve annoyed Chaewon, if she wasn’t already wide awake. Her paranoia had her looking out the insect net of their tent every couple of minutes, wary of spotting a rogue animal, or something even worse emerging from the bushes. 

Beside her, Hyeju lets out a loud groan and flops to her side, causing Chaewon’s bound wrist to be tugged along. She subtly leans closer to Hyeju in order to accommodate the stretch, too tired to be annoyed. 

The cover of their tent entrance is yanked open, and Jiwoo’s radiant face peeks through the gap. 

“Rise and shine, Wonwon! Did you sleep well?!” Jiwoo’s shrill voice reverberates through the small confines of the tent. Chaewon blinks tiredly. Being this loud at five in the morning should be a crime punishable by death. 

“No,” Chaewon says flatly. Hyeju lets out an even louder groan. 

After washing up and having a light breakfast, the team gathers near the entrance of the mountain hiking trail, where Coach Haseul guides them through the steep incline toward the top. 

Chaewon has never understood the appeal of hiking. It’s physically demanding and treacherous, two things she absolutely despises. If she wanted to experience hiking, she could just watch a vlog of it in the comfort of her bedroom. 

She casts a nervous side-eyed look at Hyeju, who has her head down, focused on following the trail. 

They still haven’t talked about their eventful late-night bathroom run, but is there even a need to? Try as she might, Chaewon can’t seem to forget the feeling of Hyeju’s ragged breaths hovering over her own lips. 

About halfway to the summit, Coach Haseul lets them stop for a short rest. Chaewon puts her hands on her knees, desperately trying to get her breath back. Fuck hiking. She is never going on another hike ever again. 

Hyeju thrusts a packet of energy jelly in front of Chaewon’s face, taking her by surprise. She blinks the sweat out of her eyes, before turning to look at Hyeju, who shrugs. 

“Take it. You look tired,” Hyeju says, her eyes diverted away from Chaewon.

“You can tell?” Chaewon asks, sarcasm dripping from her tone. 

“Just take it. I’m not gonna ask again.”

Chaewon narrows her eyes. It isn’t like Hyeju to be nice to her. Maybe she just feels bad for being mean and wants to make up for it. Maybe Son Hyeju does have a heart after all. 

She receives the energy jelly from Hyeju and takes a small bite. The tangy sweetness of the jelly revitalises her dulled senses, spreading vitality through her body. 

“Thanks,” Chaewon says shyly. Hyeju grunts in response, and Chaewon feels the edges of her lips tug upwards ever so slightly. 

The rest of the hike proceeds relatively smoothly. Hyeju tries to be accommodating, letting Chaewon move in front when the trail gets narrow, prodding her back when she begins to tire. The sash tied around their wrists means that they have to walk in step to maintain balance, something they’ve perfected over the time they’ve been forced to stay together. 

They eventually do make it to the summit, although Hyeju has to unceremoniously drag Chaewon along for the last part. But the team is greeted with a beautiful view of the sunrise for their hard work. 

Exhaustion pounds through every single bone in her body, but to be completely honest, Chaewon hasn’t felt this fulfilled in a very long time. 

Although, she is dead serious about never going on another hike again.

Clearing her throat, Coach Haseul turns around to face the rest of the team. 

“I’m not one for speeches, so I’m gonna make this short. This cohesion camp was meant to be challenging, there’s no two ways about it. But this is only a small taste of what lies ahead. When the time comes for you to actually play in competitive games, I need to know that you have what it takes to stand up and be counted, to push through adversity when things don’t go your way.” 

Reaching into her bag, Coach Haseul pulls out a small box. When she clicks it open, Chaewon recognises the contents stored inside as being the friendship bracelets they made the day prior. 

“At the end of the day, we’re a team. We look out for each other, and we take care of one another. Look around, and remember the people who went through this camp with you, because this is your family, both on and off the court.”

Coach Haseul pulls out a small spade from her bag, much to the team’s bewilderment. She kneels down and begins digging a hole in the soil. She gently places the box of bracelets into the hole before covering it back up. 

“There,” Coach Haseul dusts off her hands. “If we reach a tournament final this year, I’m gonna come back to this place and dig the box back up, to remind yourselves of how far you’ve come.” 

“And if we don’t win a game this year?” Jungeun asks. 

“Then we’ll come back here for an even longer cohesion camp. I’m sure all of you would love that,” Coach Haseul says with a wry smile. The team react with a loud groan of disapproval. “No? Okay…” 

When they finally make their descent from the hill, the sun is already shining high overhead. After packing up their tents and belongings, Coach Haseul gives them time for a quick shower before they pile into the van, ready to return to civilisation.

Chaewon and Hyeju are just about to climb into the van when Coach Haseul beckons them over. 

“Did you two really forget about being tied together?” Coach Haseul nods toward the sash still tied around their wrists. Admittedly, Chaewon had completely forgotten about it. Being bound to Hyeju sort of became second nature to her, although she’d never say that out loud. 

Coach Haseul easily undoes the knot, and the sash slips off Chaewon’s wrist, finally giving her a full range of motion again. “Thanks for being such good sports about it. I know it must’ve been difficult to do stuff with that thing on.” 

“Eating was the worst part,” Hyeju admits, but there’s a relaxed smile on her face that Chaewon thinks looks good on her. But she’d never admit that out loud. 

Chaewon and Hyeju slip into the only empty seats left on the bus. The seating arrangement is completely different from when they were on their way to the campsite. Hyunjin, Yeojin, and Yerim are seated at the front, chatting away animatedly. Behind them, Sooyoung and Heejin speak in hushed whispers. Chaewon doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but she hears Naruto being mentioned more than once. Jinsol, Jungeun, and Jiwoo occupy the back row, furiously trying to punch the bags threatening to spill over from the trunk area. 

“Tired?” Hyeju asks. 

“Mm,” Chaewon lets out a neutral noise. 

“Yeah.”

They settle into silence as Coach Haseul starts up the engine. But unlike their previously hostile and pregnant pauses, this silence is calm; peaceful. Maybe all they needed was to be scared within an inch of their lives to finally become somewhat cordial with each other. 

Next to Hyeju’s anchoring presence, Chaewon feels her eyelids growing heavy. With the help of the van engine’s steady hum, she drifts off into a dreamless sleep. 

-

“Nice pass, Yerim!” 

As another week passes, their practice sessions continue to ramp up in intensity and difficulty. Coach Haseul has started using complicated terms that Yerim sometimes fails to understand, but thankfully she has her reliable teammates to fill her in on any gaps. 

She’s still new to the sport, and that alone already affords her some considerable leeway, but a part of Yerim is still disappointed with her own progress. She’s been working hard in training, and diligently practicing her fundamentals, but she just doesn’t feel confident that she’ll be able to perform when it matters. As a matter of fact, she doesn’t feel ready at all. 

But the team is working hard, and it truly feels like they’ve all improved by leaps and bounds since the conclusion of their cohesion camp.

Yerim just hopes that she won’t let the team down if she’s ever called upon. 

“Alright people, gather around, I’ve got some big news!” Coach Haseul’s booming voice echoes around the court. Once the team is settled, Coach Haseul continues. “We’ve just received word of the opponent for our first provincial qualifier.” 

Provincial qualifier? Yerim furrows her eyebrows at that unfamiliar term. As if sensing her confusion, Yeojin leans in to help her out. 

“Provincial games are matches against other nearby teams. If we win our games and beat whoever we face in the provincial finals, we’ll represent our province for the national tournament happening in a couple of months time.” 

Yerim nods thoughtfully, trying to process the magnitude of it all. With their first competitive match three weeks away, the new season is truly about to begin. It excites her and terrifies her at the same time. 

Once the chatter dies down, Coach Haseul turns to Miss Vivi, who is holding a piece of paper in her hand. 

“Our first opponent will be MLD High School. They’re situated in the next town over,” Miss Vivi says. 

“From what I’ve gathered about them so far, they used to be a very promising team at the beginning. They’ve fallen off considerably since then, but that doesn’t mean we can afford to underestimate them. Be prepared for a tough match. They’ll be going into this game believing they’ve got a shot of winning too,” Coach Haseul warns. 

A sharp tension descends around the group, now fully aware of the team that lies between them and their dream of a first win in a competitive game. 

“Alright!” Coach Haseul claps her hands together. “We’ve got a lot to go over today, I’d like to work on our screening work and spacing. And I expect all of you to give me a hundred and ten percent. Capiche?” 

“Yes, Coach!” 

With their first competitive game right around the corner, the team throws themselves into training with a new-found sense of drive and focus. They’ve got plenty of work to do, and there’s not a moment to waste. 

Chapter Text

Two weeks into her new cohabitation regime with Haseul, Vivi is already starting to regret her decision. 

She’s not saying that Haseul is a flatmate straight out of hell. Far from it, in fact. It’s just that there are some things she does that completely drive Vivi up a wall. 

For starters, Haseul is the living definition of a slob. The warning signs were already there, when Vivi got an eyeball of her bright red panties lounging on the headrest of her car. Unfortunately, she was naive enough to ignore them. Now, she comes home every Tuesday and Thursday to see dishes in the sink, t-shirts of obscure rock bands littering the halls, and unfinished cups of noodles on the kitchen counter. 

If that wasn’t bad enough, Haseul has a really bad habit of leaving all the used cups in her room. This is a particular pet peeve of Vivi’s, because how is she supposed to get her morning coffee fix, if she doesn’t have any fucking cups to pour her coffee in?

At this point, she doesn’t know whether Haseul is pissing her off on purpose, or if she really is just that scatterbrained. Her room is probably about as clean as a pigsty. Vivi hasn’t gone inside to check, and she’s honestly a little afraid to open that particular Pandora's Box. 

The most egregious thing Haseul does is easily her peculiar late-night habits. Although she did warn Vivi at the start that she was a bit of a night owl, nothing could possibly prepare her for Haseul’s pantry raids at four in the morning. They’re loud, destructive, not to mention a complete hindrance to her already messed up sleep schedule.

Vivi wakes up on a Saturday morning, bleary-eyed and groggy from another night of interrupted sleep. She pads into the living room, nearly stepping over a stray pair of black sweatpants. She doesn’t have to look twice to know who it belongs to. With an irritated sigh, she throws the clothing into a nearby laundry basket. 

Curiously, she smells coffee in the kitchen. Sure enough, a fresh jug of Americano sits in the hold of the coffee machine. Then she remembers that Haseul is taking the early shift at her job today, which means she has the entire house to herself for the morning. 

With nothing better to do, Vivi figures that there’s no better time for a cleanup of the house than when the main culprit for its messiness is away. 

She quickly gets to work. Bandana tied to her forehead, maid apron on, the works. Today’s cleaning efforts are primarily to reverse the damage caused by Haseul over the past week, who has an uncanny ability to leave behind snack crumbs wherever she goes. 

After a couple hours of back-breaking work, Vivi has the entire house pretty much spotless. The only place left to tackle is, unfortunately, Haseul’s bedroom. A part of Vivi wants to skip it entirely and just go about with the rest of her day, but how else is she going to get her cups back? 

Vivi places one hand on the doorknob. Taking a deep breath, she pushes the door open, expecting to see an unmade bed, worn clothes strewn everywhere, and all the used cups stacked haphazardly on Haseul’s messy desk. 

However, when she takes a look inside the bedroom, she can’t help but feel mightily surprised. 

The state of the room just about meets her expectations. Unmade bed? Check. Clothes and knick-knacks all over the floor? Check. Dirty cups stacked on the table? Checkaroo. Haseul is way too predictable in that sense. 

What Vivi isn’t expecting to see is pages of notes and diagrams taped onto every available space on the walls, littering her desk, and all over her bed. Haseul’s portable whiteboard is crammed into the narrow space between the bed and the wardrobe. Incomprehensible lines and arrows cover every available inch of space. If Vivi looks closely enough, she can make out small circles with the players’ initials above them. 

There’s a clunky laptop on Haseul’s desk, with footage from a game open on the screen. The title of the video clip reads “Cube High School VS Starship Preparatory Academy - 2021 Provincial Final (Idalso)”. Next to the laptop sits a heaping stack of hand-written notes, containing vocabulary too advanced for a novice like Vivi to understand. 

So this explains the late-night pantry raids. The scatterbrained behaviour. The mug hoarding. Just how hard has Haseul been working? How determined is she to prove her capability of coaching at this level? And why did Vivi doubt her for even a second? 

Vivi’s phone buzzes in her pocket. Fishing it out, a small smile forms on her face when she sees Haseul’s name light up the display screen. 

Jo Haseul

online 

Yoyo good morneeng 

Whats our remaining budget ? 

I forgot we need more energy jel 

And towels 

Has the jersey maker come back to you yet? Times running out yknow 

Btw you got a film camera? Its for our games :D 

Also my shift ends soon

Want breakfast? I can bring back leftovers

I know you love chocolate cake 

Only if it comes with iced coffee

Ya want it ya got it 😙

Be back soon 

-

The smile is still on Vivi’s face even after she puts her phone away. Although Haseul is an absolute pain to clean up after, hiring her to coach the team is shaping up to be an inspired decision. 

If Haseul is working her socks off to bring success to the team, Vivi supposes that it’s time for her to step up her game as well. 

But not before removing a stray bra from the window handle first. Haseul will thank her for this later. 

-

“Run it back, people! One more time! Come on, let’s go, let’s go!” 

This is far from a typical Wednesday practice. In fact, Coach Haseul seems to be ramping up the intensity, trying to cover as many plays and schemes as possible. It makes sense, especially since their first game is coming up this Friday.

Not that Jungeun particularly minds. She’s fit enough to keep up. Not to mention, she’s absolutely desperate to secure a place in the starting lineup. Doing well in practice is the best way to make a good impression on Coach Haseul. 

After numerous intensive practice sessions, the full capabilities of the team and their individual components are fairly well documented now. But who Coach Haseul will pick to be her starting five for the match against MLD is anybody’s guess. It doesn’t help that she keeps repeating that everyone is in contention to start, which motivates the team as much as it unsettles them. 

Of course, it’s easy to say that everyone has a chance of starting. But the reality is much more grounded than that. From her own perceptions, Jungeun knows that Hyunjin and Sooyoung are nailed on to start their first game. Sooyoung, for her well-rounded skill and leadership, and Hyunjin, by pure virtue of being an exceptional talent. As the only player comfortable playing as the center, Jinsol is probably also a prime candidate to start. 

Yerim and Jiwoo have potential, but it’s probably too early to throw them into the deep end immediately, especially when it hasn’t been long since they started playing basketball. Chaewon is far from ready to play in an actual match, but Jungeun has a feeling that she won’t mind in the slightest. 

The shooting guard position is a direct toss-up between Heejin and Yeojin. Both are excellent shooters and work hard on defense, but despite Yeojin’s superior technical abilities, her short stature might be the critical deal-breaker. 

That leaves herself and Hyeju for the last remaining position. Don’t get her wrong, Hyeju is good. Naturally athletic, tall, strong, quick, and decently skilled on the ball. But for all of her talent, she’s still a rookie at the sport. Surely, based on experience and skill alone, Jungeun has to start over her. Right? 

The practice session restarts in earnest. Hyunjin gets into her stride as she brings the ball up the court, something she’s going to be doing a lot in future matches to come.

Heliocentric offense, a phrase Coach Haseul loves to repeat. In a nutshell, it’s an offensive strategy meant to maximise the output of a team’s most talented player, by allowing them to be the main ball handler. As Hyunjin is far and away the best player on the team, she will be tasked with dictating the offense while also being the team’s main playmaker and shot-creator. 

It’s a big responsibility to put on anybody, but Hyunjin seems up for the challenge. She immediately goes to work, dribbling the ball past a flat-footed Yerim and driving into the paint. With an imposing Hyeju blocking her path to the hoop, Hyunjin jumps backward, tossing a perfect pass towards an open Jungeun. 

Of course, solely relying on Hyunjin to win them games is wholly unrealistic. There’s a reason basketball is played with five players on the court. Everybody has an important role to play in bringing success to the team. 

With the ball in her hands, Jungeun takes aim and lets fly. The ball hangs in the air gracefully, slicing through the basket with a satisfying swish. All is according to plan. 

After wasting the entirety of her first year rotting on the bench, there is no other option for Jungeun. She has to start the game against MLD. She has the talent. She has the ability. All she needs is the opportunity to prove herself. The entire province is going to find out just how great of a basketball player she is. 

And if not to the province, then herself will greatly suffice. 

- 

With every practice session that she participates in, Chaewon becomes more and more annoyed with the reality of her current situation. 

First off, she could be taking a nap in her room right now. Secondly, basketball is a stupid game for stupid people and she hates the fact that it makes her sweat. And did she mention that she could be taking a nap in her room right now? 

As if coercing her to stay on the team wasn’t enough, Coach Haseul even had the audacity to draw up a personal training plan for her to follow. All her friends tell her that it’s really quite simple. All she has to do is take a hundred shots every practice session. 

Just two problems, however: One, her arms usually start to ache by the fifth shot. Two, all one hundred shots have to be executed from beyond the three-point arc. 

She supposes that it does make sense. After all, she’s the only one without a clearly defined ability or skill, which makes her practically useless to the team. Naturally, Coach Haseul is trying to find a suitable role for her, which is all well and good, but Chaewon can’t help but feel like she could be doing something else instead of practicing. Like taking a nap. Sleep. That sounds nice. 

At least Coach Haseul constantly reassures her that she won’t be playing in matches unless absolutely necessary, so that’s somewhat of a relief. She has no idea what she’ll do if she’s picked to play in a match. Maybe find a very tall building to jump off of. Dramatic? Sure. Effective? Definitely. 

After another half hour of intensive team-based drills, Coach Haseul brings her whistle to her lips to end the practice. 

“Thanks for working hard today! You can stay behind for a while to work on your own skills. I’ll be here if you need any help. Okay! Let’s see…” 

Unfortunately, Chaewon isn’t slick. Coach Haseul catches her trying to sneak out of the gym and drags her back onto the court. 

“Nuh-uh, Sleepyhead. You still owe me fifty shots!” With a light laugh, Coach Haseul tosses a ball towards Chaewon, who catches it reluctantly. 

She grudgingly drags her feet towards the basket, half-heartedly throwing up the ball. First shot. Miss. Second shot. Miss. Fifteen shots later, she’s no closer to hitting the target than when she started. 

Frustration bubbles in her gut. At Coach Haseul. At basketball in general. At herself. What is her worth as a member of the team if she can’t even hit her shots? What’s the point of practicing if she never sees any results? This is a hopeless endeavour. There’s just no possibility that her efforts will bear any fruit. 

“Giving up already?” 

Chaewon jumps, dropping the ball in her hands. She whirls around, eyebrows instinctively furrowing when she comes face-to-face with Son Hyeju. 

“Yes,” She replies simply, kicking the ball at her feet for good measure. She watches it bobble away from her. “What do you want?” 

“What does it look like?” Hyeju asks with a sneer. “I’m encouraging you. Stop whining and shoot your shots. Damn.” 

If that’s Hyeju’s idea of encouragement, then Chaewon hopes that she never decides to be a motivational speaker. A demotivational speaker, however, would be a much more realistic career path.

But for some reason, Hyeju’s blunt words stick with her somehow. And she’ll never admit it out loud, but she does feel a little better now. 

“Bleh,” Chaewon sticks out her tongue in mock annoyance. Hyeju chuckles before sauntering off to join Yeojin and Yerim. 

Watching Hyeju’s back as she walks away, something foreign ignites inside Chaewon. It compels her to chase after the ball she kicked away, to pick it up, to keep shooting, to keep trying. It’s completely irrational of her to keep taking shots, sure. Then again, interacting with Son Hyeju is never rational. 

Fifty shots later, Chaewon is lying down on the floor, absolutely exhausted. 

A large face materialises before her blurry vision. Chaewon can barely make out Coach Haseul’s smiling features. 

“Thirteen out of fifty. That makes twenty-four out of a hundred for today’s session,” Coach Haseul looks at her clipboard before nodding approvingly. “Not bad, Sleepyhead.” 

Chaewon isn’t much of an emoter, but she does raise a weak thumbs up in appreciation of Coach Haseul’s compliment. 

Maybe she’ll aim for twenty-five next week. 

-

The clock on her bedside table reads two in the morning, but Sooyoung still can’t seem to fall asleep. 

She’s always like this before an important event. A big exam. A key speech. A basketball match. Preparation already starts the night before, which unfortunately results in her being too high-strung to rest. 

In less than eighteen hours, she’s going to be embarking on the final season of her high school basketball career. The mere thought fills her with indescribable dread. 

Looking back, her high school career was anything but remarkable. Two games, two blowout defeats. She didn’t even get to stand on the court in her first year, and despite her best efforts in the second, it wasn’t enough to stop them from getting torn apart by superior opposition. 

Sooyoung couldn’t choose where she was born, or who she was born to. It was her parents’ cowardly decision to stay in Loona Town instead of moving to the city. It was her father’s decision to enroll her in LOONA High, instead of allowing her to take up the offer at JYP. It was Mister Jeong’s decision to cut funding to the team, leaving them on the brink of disbandment. 

Playing basketball in a school no one knows about, in a town no one goes to. It’s no wonder she hasn’t been scouted. With the way things have been going, she probably never will be. 

Dreams die. It’s normal. But Sooyoung can’t help but feel a little upset about the injustice of it all. 

Her phone buzzes. Sooyoung doesn’t need to see the display to know who it is. Only one other person would be up at such a late hour. 

Sol

online 

You up?

Call?

Okay

-

“I thought you’d be asleep,” Jinsol says as her bespectacled face envelops the screen. 

“You know I can’t,” Sooyoung replies quietly. 

Jinsol says nothing, just pans her phone down, towards her desk, open textbooks on full display for Sooyoung to see. “Neither can I. You’re not special.” 

Sooyoung scoffs. “Okay, tortured genius.” 

“Hey, I’m getting my education on. Leave me alone,” Jinsol chuckles softly, panning her phone back up to show her face. “So, what’re you doing up so late?”

“Just nervous.”

“For the game?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Same! We’re totally gonna get blown out again.”

“Not funny.” 

“Look, I shouldn’t need to be telling you this,” Jinsol pauses to fix her glasses. “But things are different this year. We’ve got a new coach, a new team. Shouldn’t you be excited?” 

The thing is, Sooyoung is excited. She can’t wait to see Hyunjin in a competitive setting. She wants to see what Jungeun and Heejin are capable of. She wants to see Yeojin shoot the lights out. She wants to play. To win. 

“But what if we lose?” Sooyoung wonders aloud. 

A pause. Sooyoung wonders if Jinsol’s connection is unstable, from the way she stares into the screen, unmoving. 

“Shouldn’t I be the one worrying about that?” Jinsol finally speaks. 

“I mean, this could be our last game. If we lose…” Sooyoung trails off. She can’t bear to think of defeat. But how can she not think of defeat if it is all she knows? 

“That’s just part of life, You win some, you lose some,” Jinsol shrugs. “You just got to take it in stride, you know?” 

“You’ve been in a really good mood lately. I don’t like it.” 

“Don’t hate on me for being happy. Maybe you should get your own girlfriend instead,” Jinsol sasses back. 

“Way to rub it in,” Sooyoung grumbles. 

“Hey, you could get one if you tried! What about Jiwoo, hm? She’s a cute girl,” Jinsol wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. 

“This isn’t about me,” Sooyoung says quickly, trying to divert the rush of blood to her cheeks. She tries to change the subject. “By the way, how are things between you and Jungeun?” 

“Hm? Oh, we’re doing pretty well. Stronger than ever,” Comes the cheerful reply. 

Sooyoung nods slowly, unconvinced. “Have you told her yet?” 

Through the screen, she can see Jinsol freeze up at the question. “About what?”

“You know what.” 

Jinsol hesitates before she lets out a small sigh. “...No. B- but it might not even matter if I fail the entrance exams!”

“Sol,” Sooyoung says softly. “Do you even want to go to the city?” 

“It’s…” Jinsol grimaces. “It’s not about what I want.”

“That’s not true.” 

“Huh?”

“You can’t keep running away from difficult conversations just because it’s hard,” Sooyoung chides. “You need to tell Jungeun. She deserves to know.” 

“W-well, look who’s talking!” Jinsol snaps back. “You do everything on your own. You always pretend everything is fine. You never tell anyone how you’re feeling and you just let people step all over you. Who are you to tell me what I should be sharing with my girlfriend?” 

“That… that’s not the same thing,” Sooyoung says uncertainly. Because they aren’t the same thing. Jinsol is hiding her feelings for fear of being vulnerable. As for Sooyoung, she’s only hiding her feelings because she doesn’t want to burden other people. 

“Does it matter?” Jinsol scoffs. “We’re both pretty fucking miserable, aren’t we?” 

That catches Sooyoung out. She’s always thought of her duties as necessary burdens. Who else would do them, if not her? Maybe if she kept at it, she’d even be able to convince herself that she was living a fulfilling life, and not just trying to find a substitute for her shattered dreams. 

“I… guess you’re right,” Sooyoung concedes. She puts her head in her hands. “What do I do?” 

“You need more friends,” Jinsol says flatly. 

“What?! I have friends! I have you!” 

“Yeah, and where would you be without me?” Jinsol grins. “But seriously, you need to open up. Like, actually talk to people about your problems, you know? Maybe something good will come out of it.” 

Sooyoung lets out a loud exhale. “If you say so…” If her best friend insists that it’s a good idea, she supposes that it’s worth a shot. 

However, she’s not going to let Jinsol off that easy. She jabs a forceful finger at the screen. “But you still need to tell Jungeun the truth. She deserves to know that you might be leaving.”

“Hey, come on, that’s… not the same thing…” Jinsol hesitates. 

Raising an eyebrow, Sooyoung gives Jinsol a blank stare. “Look who’s talking.” 

For the third time tonight, Jinsol is stunned into silence. 

It doesn’t last long, however, because she begins to giggle. 

“You bitch.” 

Sooyoung smiles back. “Get some sleep. We need you to be ready tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, I know, I know. After this chapter, though,” Jinsol brings her face towards the camera until all Sooyoung can see is her mouth and nostrils. 

“And don’t forget about what I said! That Jiwoo girl is super cute! You should totally talk to her more! Okay, byeee!” 

“W-wait, what do you mean-” 

Unfortunately, Sooyoung doesn’t get to finish her sentence, as Jinsol abruptly ends the call. 

Opening up to someone? That probably entails being vulnerable to that particular person. Airing your woes, your struggles, your fears… It’s something Sooyoung cannot even fathom doing. At least, she can’t fathom doing it with anyone other than Jinsol. 

Maybe talking to Jinsol did more harm than good, because now Sooyoung can’t seem to get Jiwoo’s adorable smile out of her mind. 

She shakes her head furiously, diving under the covers, desperate to catch some sleep before her alarm rings. 

After all, she has a game today.

Chapter Text

The van ride to the next town is uncharacteristically silent, which Jungeun puts down to nerves. This is their first competitive match of the new season, and apart from the third years, most of the team hasn’t played a single minute in a real match. This is going to be new territory for many of them. 

However, Jungeun feels calm. Excited, even. During her first year on the team, they played a whopping total of one game, which they lost in embarrassing fashion. She sat on the bench for the entire game, livid at the coach for not putting her on the court, furious at her team’s lack of drive and skill. 

Most of all, she was angry at herself, at how helpless she was to stop them from losing. 

This time, things are different. Jungeun feels good. She’s stronger, faster, and more skilled on the ball. She isn’t here to sit on the bench and make up the numbers. She’s here to make an impact on the court. She’s here to win. 

When the team alights in MLD High School’s parking lot, the first thing that strikes Jungeun is how much bigger the campus building is compared to their own school. And to think that MLD High isn’t even known as a powerhouse school in their province. To be honest, it’s a bit intimidating. 

It’s only here that things begin to settle in. How heavily the odds are stacked against them, how unlikely it is for them to win multiple games against other teams in their province, let alone one. They’re a tiny fish in a giant pond. By size and reputation alone, they don’t stand a single chance in hell. 

The rest of the team must be thinking the same way, because everyone is staring up at the expansive campus building of MLD High School, frozen in place.

A shrill whistle pierces through the thick tension suffocating the team, causing Jungeun to jump. Coach Haseul slams the van door shut and makes a shooing gesture with her arms, trusty whistle hangs off the side of her mouth. 

“Come on, people! Less standing around, more moving! We’ve got a game to play. Move it, move it!” 

If nothing else, Jungeun is grateful that at least one person on the team isn’t feeling the pressure. She pinches her own arm, trying to pull herself together. If they play hard and play well, there’s no reason why they can’t win this game.

Once inside the MLD gymnasium, which has an actual full-sized basketball court, complete with bleachers for fans, they make a beeline for the visiting team’s locker room. 

“This is crazy,” Jinsol says with wide eyes. “This place is huge…” 

“I have a feeling that if I go into one of the hallways, I’m never finding my way out,” Heejin groans. 

“Alright, people! Let’s stay focused. Miss Vivi is gonna distribute your uniforms now,” Coach Haseul nudges Miss Vivi, who pulls out a large plastic bag. The team immediately erupts in excitement, their nerves mostly forgotten. 

“Your uniforms are in here,” Miss Vivi rustles the bag. “Sorry they took so long to arrive, the kit manufacturer only finished them this morning.” 

Jungeun receives her jersey, a sleek white singlet with golden stripes streaking down the sides,  their school badge placed over the left breast.  

Flipping over to the back, Jungeun is pleasantly surprised to see “K. JUNGEUN” printed onto the dry-fit fabric in bold. A large ‘6’ is inserted directly underneath her name. 

“This is so cool!” Jiwoo squeals, admiring her own jersey in the mirror. “I might make K Jiwoo ten my new Instagram handle!” 

“Let me know if there are any defects or if the jerseys don’t fit. I’ll make sure the kit manufacturer gets us new ones by the next game,” Miss Vivi chirps. 

The next game. Even though they haven’t even played their first game, Miss Vivi already has full faith that they’ll progress to the next round. 

Being more of a realist, Jungeun isn’t one to count her chickens before they hatch. But it’d be nice to repay Miss Vivi’s faith in them. She’d really hate to let their teacher-advisor down. 

Decked out in their new uniforms, the atmosphere around the team seems to be lifted considerably. Jungeun doesn’t feel confident by any means, but she’s just itching to get out there and play. She reasons that most of the team is probably feeling the same way. 

“Alright, people! Listen up,” The team turns their attention to Coach Haseul. “This is gonna be our first game. You’re gonna feel nervous. It’s completely normal. When you’re out there on the court, I just want you to stay calm. Look out for one another. Once you get used to the intensity of the game, all your training is gonna come back to you naturally.”

Jungeun nods as she makes a quick sweep of the rest of the team. The first years are sitting together, looking a little uncertain. Yerim in particular has a terrified expression plastered on her face. That’s to be expected, of course. The time before the match is when nerves are at their highest, especially for anyone who isn’t a seasoned athlete. 

Hyunjin and Heejin are seated side-by-side, looking relatively calm. Heejin has her eyes closed and is doing some strange gestures with her hands while Hyunjin is giving her a weird look. Jungeun resists the urge to laugh. To be honest, even she doesn’t understand the weird anime shit Heejin does sometimes. 

Beside her, Jinsol reaches out and squeezes her hand gently, flashing a gentle smile. It helps to quell the last of Jungeun’s pre-game jitters. 

“I’ll announce the starting lineup after the warm-up. I want all of you to be ready to start,” Coach Haseul throws the door open, and a flurry of noise crashes into the locker room. “Well, seems like MLD’s got a crowd today. Come on, people! Time to put on a show. Let’s go, let’s go!”

The warm-up session passes by way quicker than Jungeun would’ve liked, although she manages to land most of her shots. She’s feeling good; in the zone, and she hopes that Coach Haseul can see that too. 

Minutes before the tip-off, Coach Haseul calls them into a huddle. The tension among the team is palpable, and even Jungeun can’t stop her teeth from chattering. 

“This is it, people! Remember; we practiced for this. Just stick together, remember your training, we’re gonna be just fine,” Clipboard in hand, Haseul’s eyes run down a short list. “Alright! I’m gonna call out the starting five for this game. Hyunjin, Heejin, Sooyoung, Jinsol, and last but not least…” 

Jungeun holds her breath. She’s a good player. Everybody knows that. Surely, she’ll be called to start. It has to be her. Who else could be except her?

“...Hyeju. Alright! The tip-off is gonna start any minute. Sooyoung, any last words of encouragement?” 

Sooyoung sticks her hand into the center of the huddle, and the rest of the team promptly follows suit.

“Let’s… let’s win,” Sooyoung mutters awkwardly, earning a few light chuckles. “On the count of three. One, two, three!”

“ORBITS FLY!” The team cheers as they throw their hands towards the sky. 

Jungeun’s mouth hangs open, but no sound comes out. The shock doesn’t register in her system until Miss Vivi guides her towards the bench with the rest of the players. 

Her head hurts. Her heart stings with the agony of rejection. She feels like she’s just been given a hard punch to the stomach. This shouldn’t be happening. This can’t be happening again. How the hell has this happened again?

Raising her head, Jungeun desperately scans the court that she should be standing on, watching the players prepare for the tipoff. Her eyes instinctively search for Hyeju, the one who stole her place, her spotlight, her chance to shine. 

Anger builds inside of Jungeun as her vision starts turning red. 

-

Inter-High School National Basketball Championship, Qualifying Phase (Girls Division)

Idalso Province

Round 1

MLD High School vs LOONA High School 

STARTING FIVE (MLD)

L. Hyebin (c)

L. Yeonwoo

L. Joowon

Y. Daisy

M. Nancy 

STARTING FIVE (LOONA)

H.Sooyoung (c)

J. Jinsol

J. Heejin

K. Hyunjin

S. Hyeju 

Jinsol tries to block out the deafening cheers of the crowd as she stands at the center circle, readying herself for the tip-off. She takes a moment to size up the MLD players, who are kitted out in striking red uniforms. L. Yeonwoo steps out to contest the tip-off with her. 

The referee stands before both of them, the ball in her hands. She holds it out between Jinsol and L. Yeonwoo, an equal distance apart. 

“I want a clean game today. Are you both ready?”

Jinsol responds with a stiff nod, her eyes trained on the ball. From the periphery of her vision, she sees L. Yeonwoo bobbing her head as well. She tightens her jaw, determined not to be out-jumped for the tip-off. 

The referee steps back slightly. With the smallest of flicks, the ball soars into the air. Jinsol doesn’t hesitate. She leaps for it, feeling the rough surface of the ball brushing against her fingertips. She throws her arm back, knocking the ball into Hyunjin’s waiting hands. 

Not wasting any time, Hyunjin scorches past Jinsol and a scrambling L. Yeonwoo, barreling straight at an unprepared MLD defense, who are completely shell-shocked by Hyunjin’s tenacious speed.

Within seconds, Hyunjin drives her way towards the rim, but L. Joowon puts up a fierce defense to divert her off course. Jinsol scampers to provide support, but she is blocked off by L. Yeonwoo, who stumbles as her foot catches on the slippery court surface. 

Sliding away from L. Yeonwoo’s crumpled frame, Jinsol rushes towards the rim, knowing that Hyunjin will find a way to get the ball to her. And Hyunjin does, with a high arching pass that soars over the hoop and toward Jinsol. With a gentle touch, she tips the ball against the backboard and into the basket. 

To the surprise of a stunned home crowd, LOONA High School has drawn first blood. The once rowdy crowd of MLD High students sit in silence as Jinsol exchanges excited high-fives with her teammates. There’s still a long way to go in this game, but taking the lead certainly can’t hurt. 

MLD High restarts the game, a sloppy pass from M. Nancy nearly soaring out of bounds. They’re clearly shaken up by the LOONA’s quick start, and there’s no better time to capitalise on their lack of attacking impetus than the present. 

Some good defence from Heejin and Sooyoung forces Y. Daisy into a rushed shot that clatters against the rim. Jinsol snatches the rebound and slings the ball out to Hyunjin, who dribbles past L. Hyebin and M. Nancy with ease. She bulldozes her way toward the rim with explosive speed, deftly evading L. Yeonwoo’s outstretched hand before laying the ball up and into the hoop.

Letting out an excited whoop, Jinsol reaches out to slap Hyunjin on the shoulder. She casts a glance toward the scoreboard at the side of the gym, which reads 4-0 in favour of LOONA. 

Jinsol thinks that she likes that score a lot. 

-

The bench isn’t the worst place to be, especially when you’re as inexperienced as Yerim when it comes to basketball. 

Three weeks isn’t a lot of time to become good at anything, and nobody expects her to become a basketball expert overnight. She’s been playing hard during practice and giving her all, but there are still a lot of things she struggles with. 

Watching a match from the sideline is totally different from playing in one. Yerim can feel her tunnel vision clearing, her view of the court broadening. She can spot open teammates easier, and also figure out the best time to shoot without having an opponent constantly breathing down her neck. 

About three and a half minutes remain on the game clock. At the moment, things are looking good for them, as they hold a 13-8 advantage over MLD. 

She tries to remember what Yeojin told her earlier on the bus, that a basketball game is split into four quarters of eight minutes each. There’s not much time left in the current quarter. if LOONA manage to maintain their lead, they’ll be in an advantageous position to start the second period. 

Yerim returns her focus to the action on the court, as Sooyoung bumps into L. Yeonwoo, preventing her from making a shot. However, the referee blows her whistle and points to one of the lines drawn on the court. 

“Come on! How’s that a foul?” Yeojin groans. 

“Foul?” Yerim asks. Clearly, she still has a lot to learn when it comes to basketball terminology. 

“Coach doesn’t call fouls, she wants us to “push through them” or whatever,” Yeojin mumbles. “Anyway, a foul is called if you make too much contact with your opponent when they have the ball. Which is complete bullshit by the way, because Sooyoung’s block was totally clean!”

“Sooyoung body-checked her. It was the right call,” Jungeun mutters gloomily. Yerim can’t help but feel a little concerned for Jungeun, who hasn’t cracked a smile ever since the match started. 

The referee tosses the ball to L. Yeonwoo, who is standing a short distance away from the basket, while the players from both teams stand around her, giving her a wide berth.

“She’s gonna attempt a free throw. It looks easy, but it’s harder than you think,” Yeojin explains. “Since she didn’t score, she’s gonna get two free throw attempts. If she scores and also gets fouled, then she’ll get one free throw. That’s called a three-point play.” 

Yerim nods thoughtfully. She’d hate the pressure that comes with trying to score a free throw, but she’d also hate to foul someone and give them free shots on her team’s basket. She sighs pensively. Like all things, being a basketball player is really hard. 

L. Yeonwoo expertly dispatches both free throws, bringing MLD back to within three points of LOONA. Coach Haseul, who has been intently following the match by the edge of the sideline, quickly signals for a substitution before the play restarts. 

“Jungeun, you’re up,” Coach Haseul turns toward the court and beckons Hyeju over. 

“Yes, Coach?” Hyeju pants. 

“I’m subbing you off for Jungeun. We need more thrust in attack,” Coach Haseul explains, gesturing for Jungeun to get warmed up. 

“Oh, okay,” Hyeju doesn’t take it personally and turns to Jungeun, who is doing some quick stretches. 

“Good luck,” Hyeju holds out her palm for a high-five. Jungeun runs onto the court without even sparing her a glance. 

Yerim watches it all happen, sees Hyeju’s stoic expression waver ever so slightly before she pulls herself together. She takes the seat vacated by Jungeun and accepts the towel given to her by Chaewon. 

“What the hell is her problem?” Hyeju mutters into her towel. 

“Maybe she’s just grouchy?” Yerim tries to reassure Hyeju, who doesn’t look too convinced. 

Chaewon reaches out to knock Hyeju’s shoulder. “Jungeun hates being on the bench.” 

“What’s wrong with being on the bench? It’s not like she doesn’t get to play or anything,” Hyeju argues. 

“Pride,” Chaewon says simply. 

Yerim turns back to watch the game. At that exact moment, Jungeun powers past her defender and pulls up from beyond the three-point line. The ball spins through the air before falling into the basket for a stylish long-range shot. Since long-range shots are harder to execute, scoring them awards more points, which means the score is now 16-10 to LOONA. 

Casting a nervous glance at Hyeju, who is clearly still peeved by Jungeun’s earlier snub, Yerim prays that her altercation with Jungeun will only be a one-time thing.

-

“Pipsqueak, Hyeju, let’s go.” 

Yeojin does a couple of tug-jumps to warm up. She takes a quick glance at the game clock. There are only two minutes left in the second quarter, and although LOONA is still holding onto a 27-22 lead, it seems like MLD is determined not to let them run away with this game. 

Yeojin feels Coach Haseul’s arm draped around her shoulder. 

“Alright, Pipsqueak. I want you to shoot the lights out. Give them something else to be worried about. Got it?”

“Aye, Coach!” Yeojin gives a mock salute, hoping that Coach Haseul didn’t hear the quiver in her voice. 

Heejin and Jungeun jog off the court, with Jungeun looking especially unhappy to be returning to the bench. Yeojin tries to ignore it and focus on her own game. 

She makes an extra effort not to wither under the pointed looks of MLD’s players and supporters. It’s easy to underestimate Yeojin, after all. She seems to be hard-stuck at 149cm, no matter how much milk she drinks. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like she’s going to get taller anytime soon. 

What MLD doesn’t know is that Yeojin has been playing basketball since she was six years old. That it was the only thing keeping her out of trouble at school. Something that gives her purpose. Something she’s actually good at. 

 And if they didn’t know that before, they’re about to find out now. 

With the ball in her possession, Hyunjin blasts past the MLD point guard and streaks toward the rim. The MLD defence collapses in on her, desperate not to let her score again. Hyunjin sees them coming, skillfully passing the ball out to Yeojin in the corner. 

With a clear look at the basket and no defender in sight, these kinds of shots are Yeojin’s bread and butter. She lets the ball fly, eyes following its trajectory as it floats through the air. It sinks into the basket with a satisfying swish, much to the delight of herself and her teammates. 

“Let’s fuckin’ go!” Hyeju gives Yeojin a rough high-five which sends shivers down her spine.

Basketball is a game about height. It’s something Yeojin knows better than anyone. It’s the reason why she’s on the bench and not a starter. 

It’s also the reason why MLD’s new strategy is aimed at exploiting her most obvious weakness.

Yeojin tries, she really does. But she’s too physically weak to defend against L. Yeonwoo’s devastating drive to the rim, and too small to block her layup. 

Unfortunately, her vertical leap doesn’t make up for the height difference between herself and L. Joowon, who sinks a three-pointer right over her head. 

In the blink of an eye, LOONA’s comfortable eight-point lead is reduced to a measly three. 

Desperate to stem the bleeding, Hyunjin pushes them on the offensive, taking a snapshot that clatters off the rim and back into play. Hyeju grabs the rebound but is immediately hounded by L. Yeonwoo. She just about manages to divert the ball to Sooyoung, who passes the ball into Yeojin’s hands. 

Looking up towards the basket, Yeojin’s eyes widen at the sight of L. Hyebin’s imposing frame bearing down on her. There’s no time to think. Yeojin pulls up, grimacing when the ball leaves her hands. She doesn’t need to see to know that her shot is off target. 

True enough, her shot is woefully short, knocking against the front of the rim and into M. Nancy’s grateful hands. LOONA scramble back to defend as MLD’s players storm forward, urged on by the cheers of the crowd. 

Still hung up over her earlier miss, Yeojin fails to notice L. Yeonwoo sneaking into the paint. Sensing the danger, Jinsol moves over to provide defensive cover, but there’s now a gaping hole in their defence that is just begging to be exploited. M. Nancy lobs a high pass towards the basket, far out of Yeojin’s reach. The ball falls to Y. Daisy for an easy finish at the rim. 

Coach Haseul calls for a timeout with the score at 30-29, LOONA’s lead hanging precariously in the balance. Although Yeojin fully expects to be back on the bench for the remainder of the quarter, she still finds herself feeling disappointed when it actually does happen. 

“I’m sorry, Pipsqueak,” Coach Haseul says apologetically. “You’ll be back out there before you know it.” 

A buzzer sounds to signal the end of the timeout, and Yeojin trudges back to the bench, watching her replacement Jungeun outleap Y. Daisy for a rebound, winning a foul in the process. It’s something only Yeojin can only dream of doing.

Basketball is a game about height. Yeojin knows this better than anyone. It’s why she extracts the maximum performance out of every single inch her body has to offer, just for a chance to stand on the court, to prove that she can hold her own against the might of giants. 

As the buzzer sounds to signal for halftime, she bitterly wishes that she just had a couple more inches. 

HALFTIME

Inter-High School National Basketball Championship, Qualifying Phase (Girls Division)

Idalso Province

Round 1

MLD High School 30-32 LOONA High School 

TOP PERFORMERS

MLD

L. Yeonwoo: 9 pts, 5 reb

M. Nancy 7 pts, 3 ast

L. Joowon 6 pts

LOONA 

K. Hyunjin: 10 pts, 4 ast

H. Sooyoung: 5 pts, 2 blk

K. Jungeun 5 pts, 2 reb

-

Back in the locker room, Haseul picks at an irritating hang nail as she waits for her players to settle down. They’ll still be high off the adrenaline and stress of playing a game, and won’t be able to process her instructions right now. 

When Sooyoung finally gets the team to stay quiet, Haseul wheels out her large portable whiteboard, which is full of messily scribbled notes and arrows that point in all directions. 

It’s time to talk strategy. 

“Alright! Good half, people. They kinda got back into the game near the end, so we need to stay on top of things for the next two quarters.” 

Maintaining their focus for the rest of the game will likely be a challenge for her players, but she’ll cut them a bit of slack. After all, it’s only their first game. Concentration lapses are to be expected, and Haseul hopes to cut them out gradually with time and experience. 

Another thing she’ll have to watch out for is the energy levels of her players. Hyunjin, Sooyoung, and Jinsol have played two full quarters without rest, but they’re too important to bench at the moment, especially with the score so close. Heejin is an explosive scorer, but prone to tiring quickly. She’ll have to be carefully managed to ensure they get the most out of her. Hyeju is having a fine game, but Jungeun offers well-rounded offensive skills and defensive nous. She’s also fresher from having played fewer minutes. 

As for the rest of the bench, Pipsqueak is a great scorer, but she’s a defensive liability. Yerim and Jiwoo are too inexperienced to be thrown into such a close game. Sleepyhead is nowhere near ready to be put into a game. 

Haseul has a plan. It’s risky, but if it pays off, they’ll be reaping the rewards later in the game. 

“Alright! Listen up. We’re gonna come out guns blazing in the third quarter. Hyunjin, they can’t handle you out there, so you just keep doing your thing. Jinsol, focus on the rebounds, prioritise defence. We’re gonna need you to step up,” Hyunjin and Jinsol nod, and Haseul’s eyes land on Jungeun, Heejin, and Pipsqueak. 

“You three will be starting the third quarter. Hyunjin will set up your shots, and your only job is to knock them down.”

If they can build a big enough lead at the start of the quarter, Haseul will be able to afford rest to Hyunjin and Jinsol, while a rested Sooyoung can lead out their second unit. 

“Any questions? No? Alright! Let’s go win this thing.” 

“Yes, Coach!” The team echoes back, eager to return to the court. 

The third quarter starts, and Haseul is pleased to see her team fly straight out the blocks. In a desperate attempt to stop Hyunjin’s domination of the game, MLD has resorted to double marking her, a common strategy to neutralise an opposing team’s most dangerous player. 

Like that’ll stop Hyunjin. She rides M. Nancy’s barge and glides past a flat-footed L. Hyebin, blitzing towards the basket. Like moths to a flame, the MLD defense surrounds her. But Hyunjin is just too quick, too skillful. She leaps into the air and slings the ball to Heejin, who is completely open at the three-point line. Her arching shot sinks into the basket, swiftly extending LOONA’s advantage by another three points. 

MLD struggles to find an answer to LOONA’s new strategy. If they focus on defending Hyunjin, they risk leaving lethal shooters completely open around the arc. If they focus on blocking off the shooters, Hyunjin will just score points all by herself. It’s a lose-lose situation, requiring swift intervention to mitigate. 

Sensing their opponent’s indecision, Haseul urges her players to aim for the jugular. The floodgates begin to open, and LOONA begins to pull away, their lead widening, their grip on the game tightening. 

A sloppy shot from Y. Daisy is easily gathered by Jinsol, who releases Hyunjin for another driving run to the basket. This time, the MLD defense sits back, trying their best to cover off the rest of the LOONA offense. This suits Hyunjin to the ground. Some lightning-quick handles leaves M. Nancy completely flat-footed, giving Hyunjin all the time in the world to aim her shot. The ball soars into the air, falling through the hoop with a resounding swish. 

Haseul triumphantly pumps her fist. Beside her, Vivi is jumping up and down in excitement, nearly knocking over the tripod supporting her video camera. The players on the bench cheer and clap for their teammates on the court. The third quarter has been a total stomping, and with three minutes left on the clock, the score is 48-35 in LOONA High's favour. 

MLD call for a timeout, and Haseul prepares to ring out the changes. Hyunjin and Jinsol enjoy a well-deserved rest, while Heejin comes off the court looking like she just ran several marathons back-to-back. 

Jungeun also returns to the bench, looking absolutely furious with the decision. Haseul sees it as a good sign. She likes a little fire in her players, anyway. She just hopes that Jungeun doesn’t take it personally. After all, every decision she makes is for the good of the team. 

In their place, Hyeju returns to the court looking ready to do damage, while Yerim and Jiwoo come on to get some much-needed match experience.

“Sooyoung!” She calls out to her captain just before she steps onto the court. “Keep the team calm out there, yeah? I’m counting on you.” 

“Yes, Coach,” Sooyoung says stiffly, before turning around to check into the game. 

-

With the constant stress of academics and her council duties looming over her head, basketball is Sooyoung’s only remaining solace. 

Playing basketball is equivalent to therapy. It’s calming, it’s freeing, and most importantly, it’s one of the rare times Sooyoung gets to have fun and express herself. 

Being the team captain isn’t easy, and to be honest, Sooyoung only took up the responsibility because no one else was willing to. But the rest of her team have good heads over their shoulders. They train hard and play harder, which suits Sooyoung just fine. It’s her job to keep them focused, to make sure they play as a cohesive unit. 

Right from the off, it quickly becomes clear to Sooyoung that she has a difficult task on her hands. Yerim and Jiwoo are clearly suffering from first game jitters, when MLD substitute L. Ahin cuts past both of them before finishing at the rim. 

On the next possession, Sooyoung throws a pass to Yerim, but the ball slips from her hands when she tries to dribble it. M. Nancy nips in to snatch the ball away, zipping straight towards the basket. Jiwoo desperately jumps to stop her, but ends up crashing straight into the MLD player. It’s an easy decision for the referee, who immediately points to the free-throw line. 

Alarmed, Sooyoung jogs over to check on Jiwoo, who is sprawled on the floor, clutching the back of her head. 

“I-I’m fine!” Jiwoo leaps to her feet, gently brushing away Sooyoung’s offers to help. Her face is coloured a deep shade of red, embarrassment and guilt flooding out of her shrinking frame. “I’m sorry, I’m not really good at this basketball thing-” 

“It’s my fault!” Yerim says mournfully, looking like she’s about to burst into tears. “I’m so sorry, t-the ball just slipped and I couldn’t-” 

“Calm down,” Sooyoung puts a hand on both of their shoulders. “These things happen.” 

Unfortunately, M. Nancy is no slouch at free throws, scoring both attempts to chip away at LOONA’s lead. They’re leading by nine points, so there’s no reason to worry just yet. But if they allow MLD to build momentum and confidence going into the fourth quarter, things could turn ugly very quickly. 

A sloppy shot by Hyeju results in L. Yeonwoo retrieving the rebound, who sends MLD on the attack once again. Sooyoung tries her best to delay M. Nancy’s drive, but she slings the ball out to the corner. L. Joowon lifts the ball over Yeojin’s desperate reach and into the basket for three. 

Sooyoung bites her lip. She glances up at the clock, which shows that they still have a minute and a half until the end of the quarter. If they continue to play like this, it’s enough time for a lot of things to go wrong. 

She makes a quick sweep of her teammates, who look anxious and dejected. That’s to be expected. For all of Yeojin and Hyeju’s talent and skill, they’re still only first years, and this is their first foray into competitive high school play. 

Yerim and Jiwoo have never even touched a basketball until a month ago. This isn’t the time to demand they play better, or berate them for lapses in play. They need to be reassured, that it’s okay to stumble, it’s okay to make mistakes. Sooyoung has to find a way to instill confidence in them. 

“Jiwoo,” Sooyoung says quietly. “Stay near the basket. If any shots fall within the zone, you jump for it. Can you do that?” 

Jiwoo blinks, trying to process the information. Then, she nods with understanding. “I got it!” 

“Hyeju, wait for close looks. Stay patient. Yeojin, you need to keep moving around. They know you’re a threat from three, and they want to lock you down. Make space for Hyeju to drive into.”

Yeojin’s face brightens slightly. “Aye, captain!” She brings her hand up for a mock salute. Hyeju’s sullen expression doesn’t change, but she gives Sooyoung a short nod. 

“And Yerim,” Sooyoung turns to Yerim, who is hunching into herself, her gaze trained on her sneakers. Her jersey hangs off her skinny frame, several sizes too large. She looks like she wants to disappear.

“Trust yourself, okay?” 

Sooyoung tries to inflect as much gentleness in her voice as she can. It seems to be enough, because Yerim lifts her head timidly and gives Sooyoung a small nod. 

The game restarts with Sooyoung in possession of the ball. She fakes a dribble, putting off L. Joowon just long enough to shoot the ball. It clangs off the rim and back into the paint, but Jiwoo leaps into the air to snatch the ball away. L. Yeonwoo clumsily bumps into Jiwoo, causing her to crash to the ground. 

To Sooyoung’s delight, the referee blows her whistle and points to the free throw line. Jiwoo has just won a foul. 

“LET’S GO, JIWOO!” Jungeun’s excited scream travels all the way from the LOONA bench. Sooyoung extends a hand, which Jiwoo takes gratefully. 

“Good work,” Sooyoung says, hauling Jiwoo to her feet. Jiwoo’s beaming face is so infectious that even Sooyoung finds a small smile making its way onto her face. 

Unfortunately, Jiwoo is the last person who you’d want to win a foul. The pressure gets the better of her, and she ends up missing both free throw attempts. M. Nancy grabs the rebound and MLD quickly moves the ball up the court, eager to maintain their control of the game. 

Sooyoung faces off against L. Joowon, who inches forward slowly, her eyes trained toward the hoop. Sooyoung keeps her opponent busy, following her shifty movements, giving Jiwoo just enough time to zip behind L. Joowon and poke the ball right out of her hands. 

The court explodes into a flurry of activity as both teams scramble for the loose ball. Jiwoo dives to the ground and just about manages to divert the ball to Yerim, who quickly picks it up and makes eye contact with Sooyoung. 

Moving on pure instinct, Sooyoung takes off like a bullet, barrelling straight toward MLD’s undefended basket. Yerim’s pass is inch-perfect, beaming into Sooyoung’s hands like a precision laser. 

With the MLD defence completely shattered, Sooyoung simply lays the ball up into the basket. Just like that, MLD’s momentum has been snapped into pieces. 

Turning back, Sooyoung flashes Yerim a quick thumbs up. Yerim tries to return it, but it’s hard when Hyeju and Yeojin are smothering her with hugs and screaming gleefully into her ear. 

With less than fifteen seconds of the quarter remaining, MLD tries to cobble together one last attack. They target Yeojin for the mismatch once again, just as Sooyoung predicted. L. Yeonwoo receives the ball and drives past Yeojin, but she meets an imposing wall in the form of Hyeju. 

With mere seconds left on the clock, L. Yeonwoo tries her luck with an ambitious shot. Sooyoung is prepared for it, however. Channeling all the strength in her legs, she jumps forward with both arms raised. The ball stings her fingertips and flies into the air, high above everybody’s heads. 

Sooyoung’s eyes never leave the ball, even as she jostles to secure the rebound. There is no way anyone else is going to get this ball. She will kill someone to secure this ball. She will-

Like a bolt from the blue, Jiwoo springs skyward, snatching the ball right out of L. Hyebin’s reach. 

And just in time, too. The buzzer sounds to call time on the most stressful three minutes of Sooyoung’s life. 

For a moment, she was genuinely worried that the team would collapse and blow away their large lead. But they enter the fourth quarter sitting pretty at a score of 50-42. She pats each of her teammates on the shoulder, grateful for their contribution under such intense pressure. 

“Yo, Jiwoo, where’d you get your hops?” Yeojin asks Jiwoo, and Sooyoung can’t help but lean in to listen. 

“Oh! I’m actually a third degree black belt in taekwondo, so I have to train my legs a lot!” Sooyoung steals a glance at Jiwoo’s slim and well-toned legs. 

There’s something special about Kim Jiwoo. She’s bright and bubbly, clumsy and adorable, not to mention a martial arts master who could easily kick Sooyoung’s ass if she wanted to. Speaking of ass, Jiwoo really has a great-

Something catches inside her throat, and Sooyoung has to forcibly tear her gaze away, wincing at the uncomfortable warmth radiating from her cheeks. The suppressed memories from cohesion camp come flooding back to Sooyoung, flustering her even more. 

The buzzer sounds to commence the final quarter. Coach Haseul reminds Sooyoung that she’s starting, so she slaps her cheeks and tries to pull herself together. There’s a time and place for everything. Right now, Sooyoung has a basketball game to win. 

-

As a well-established student athlete, Hyeju figured that basketball would be easy to pick up compared to football. The court is smaller, there’s less distance to run, which means she has more energy to dunk on opponents, right? 

They’re deep into the fourth quarter now, and so far, Hyeju hasn’t come remotely close to dunking on anybody. The court might well be smaller than a football pitch, but Hyeju feels absolutely exhausted. She might have forgotten to account for the fact that she only has four teammates to help her now, as opposed to the ten she used to have when she was on the football team. It means that she’s expected to attack, defend, fight for rebounds, screen for teammates, the list is exhuastively long. She’s also expected to be good at all of those things. 

With Yeojin now off the court, MLD’s attention now shifts to her, as they have marked her out to be the weak link in LOONA’s defense. 

Hyeju doesn’t like being deliberately targeted, but if she were on the opposing team, she’d probably target herself too. L. Joowon stares her down intently, then quickly pulls up to shoot. Hyeju moves to block the shot, but her legs feel like lead, and she struggles to raise her tired arms. The ball soars in a perfect arc and nestles into the basket, cutting the deficit to eight points. 

Hyeju squeezes her eyes shut and groans. From the corner of her eye, she spots Jungeun sulking on the bench and glaring at her angrily. Hyeju suppresses a frown. Something is off about Jungeun today, and she has a bad feeling that she might be the cause of it.

The numbers 62-54 flash on the scoreboard, with LOONA comfortably in the lead. To their credit, MLD refuses to give up the fight, perhaps spurred on by the expectations of their supporters, who have grown rather quiet as the game draws nearer to its conclusion. 

But Hyeju isn’t here to admire her opponent’s fighting spirit. She’s here to win. They just need one more basket to crush MLD’s hopes of a comeback, and it seems like Hyunjin is hellbent on doing it all by herself. 

MLD have tried absolutely everything to neutralise Hyunjin, but unfortunately for them, there’s nothing much they can do against such a force of nature. Defend the rim, and she’ll shoot from three. Space out and defend the perimeter, and she’ll slice through the defence like they aren’t even there. Double team her, triple team her, surround her, and she’ll still find a way to get the ball to an open teammate. 

M. Nancy looks to be Hyunjin’s latest victim, as she nervously tracks Hyunjin’s handle. She suddenly dives for the ball, but Hyunjin reacts quickly to slide out of the way. With needle-like precision, she slings a pass to Hyeju in the paint, but she can’t react quickly enough and fumbles the ball out of bounds. 

Shit. Hyeju bites the inside of her cheek, bracing for the tongue lashing Hyunjin is probably going to dish out. 

“Hey, sorry abou-” 

“I’m sorry!” Hyunjin splutters, head bowed pensively. Hyeju is taken aback. “I should’ve given you an easier pass or maybe taken a shot myself. I-I just saw you open and I thought that given the circumstances-” 

“Uh, it’s fine,” Hyeju awkwardly waves her off. “I should be the one apologising.” 

Hyunjin still looks horribly guilty. “N-no, but-”

“Hyunjin, chill out! Mistakes happen all the time. It’s normal,” Jinsol places a hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder.

“It is?” Hyunjin says in an uncertain voice.

“Of course it is…” Heejin pants. Sweat is pouring down her face, and she looks exhausted. 

“You’ll get the next one,” Sooyoung says calmly. 

As they jog back into position to restart the game, Hyeju can’t shake the feeling that something about Hyunjin feels… off. Don’t get her wrong, she likes Hyunjin. But for all of her incredible talent and skill, she seems to get irrationally upset with herself for every little blunder or turnover.

The thing is, mistakes are completely normal. Especially for a game as free-flowing and chaotic as basketball. Not all plays work out as intended. Some shots miss. Some passes go astray. It’s really not that big of a deal. Hyunjin should know this better than anyone else.

Nonetheless, the reassurance seems to help, because Hyunjin picks up right where she left off. She intercepts an errant pass by M. Nancy and swiftly brings the ball up the court. L. Joowon and K. Nayun scramble to intercept Hyunjin’s drive to the basket, barging into her roughly and knocking her off balance. 

The referee blows her whistle just as the ball leaves Hyunjin’s hand. It floats through the air in a beautiful arc, crashing into the basket off the backboard for a perfect three-point play. 

“Holy fuck, is she even human?” L. Joowon exclaims in frustration. Hyeju jogs over to pull Hyunjin up, who has a satisfied smile on her face. 

Sinking the subsequent free throw, Hyunjin finally puts the result well and truly beyond doubt. MLD restart the game without much urgency, somberly waiting for the clock to run down. Eventually, a loud buzzer sounds to signal the end of the game. 

It’s just a win, and it’s only their first match. But Hyeju can see how much it means to Sooyoung and Jinsol, who share an emotional embrace by the sideline. 

“So dramatic,” Yeojin slides up beside her as they watch the third-year duo do a little celebratory dance. “I wanna dance with them too.” 

“You’re an embarrassment.” 

“Well, fuck you too then!” Yeojin shoots back, but she holds out a fist for Hyeju to bump nonetheless.

Some of the MLD crowd begin to file out of the gym, grumbling about wasted money and wasted time, but a good number of supporters stay behind to applaud the efforts of both teams. 

A gaggle of MLD players crowds around Hyunjin to ask for her jersey. Miss Vivi steps in to intervene, probably to explain that they don’t have any jerseys to spare. Instead, she pulls out a pen and passes it to Hyunjin, who begins signing her autograph on the jerseys of her new fans. 

Hyeju graciously shakes hands with teammates and opponents alike. Even Jungeun shakes her hand, although she doesn’t look particularly happy about it. 

“Good game…” Jungeun grumbles, her eyes focusing on anywhere but Hyeju’s face. 

“Being on the bench isn’t easy,” Hyeju tries to sympathise. “But Coach always picks the best players to start, so-” 

“Wait, wait. What do you mean by the “best” players?” Jungeun narrows her eyes.

Hyeju shrugs. “The best players always start. That’s how it works, right?” 

“Ugh,” Jungeun abruptly drops Hyeju’s hand, shooting her a glare. “If you want to brag about being a starter, you could’ve at least not been an asshole about it.” 

Hyeju furrows her eyebrows in confusion. “What? I didn’t even-” 

Turning her back to Hyeju, Jungeun stomps away without another word. 

“What’s got her all worked up?” Yeojin slides over to stand next to Hyeju, who watches Jungeun’s back with a frown. 

“I have no idea,” Hyeju admits. She doesn’t remember saying anything wrong. The best players suited for the coach’s tactics will start the games. It doesn’t have anything to do with individual ability. That’s what she had meant to say, but Jungeun somehow managed to completely take it the wrong way. 

“It’s probably not your fault,” Chaewon pops up on Hyeju’s other side.

“It’s not?” Hyeju asks. At the rate she’s going, she’s going to start having beef with the entire team at some point. 

Chaewon shrugs. “She’s angry at everything. Just ignore it.” 

“True,” Jinsol squeezes her head in between Chaewon and Hyeju. “Trust me, I would know.” 

“I hope so,” Hyeju says uncertainly, unable to suppress the frown that forms on her face. 

FINAL RESULT 

Inter-High School National Basketball Championship, Qualifying Phase (Girls Division)

Idalso Province

Round 1

MLD High School 54-65 LOONA High School 

PLAYER STATS 

MLD

LOONA

-

heejin bully chat

HEEJIN🤓🤓🐇🐰💞💓, HYUNJINNIEE⛹️♀️🏀🥐🐱😼, JUNGIEBESTIEE♥️😎😘💖💕, WONWONNIE💤🛏😴😘😒, you

HEEJIN🤓🤓🐇🐰💞💓 added HYUNJINNIEE⛹️♀️🏀🥐🐱😼

HEEJIN🤓🤓🐇🐰💞💓

this is hyunjin’s number!! please add her 

contact if you havent 

you

OMGGG HI HYUNJINNIEEEEE!! 

❤️❤️❤️

WELCUM 2 DA GRPCHAT BB

GLAD U CLD MAKE ITTTT

WONWONNIE💤🛏😴😘😒

hi

JUNGIEBESTIEE♥️😎😘💖💕 changed the subject to HEEJIN HAS A CRUSH ON

HEEJIN🤓🤓🐇🐰💞💓

JUNGIE WTFFFFFFFF 

WONWONNIE💤🛏😴😘😒

lol 

HEEJIN🤓🤓🐇🐰💞💓 changed the subject to family chat 😄

you

HEHEHEHEHEHE

WONWONNIE💤🛏😴😘😒 changed the subject to heejin bully chat

HEEJIN🤓🤓🐇🐰💞💓

fuck you guys :( 

HYUNJINNIEE⛹️♀️🏀🥐🐱😼

Hi everyone 

you 

HYUNJINIEEE OUR BBALL
SUPASTAHH ⭐⭐⭐

HEEJIN🤓🤓🐇🐰💞💓

hi hyunjin!! thanks for playing 

with us today

that game was so funn

and i scored 11 points :)

WONWONNIE💤🛏😴😘😒

stfu heejin

JUNGIEBESTIEE♥️😎😘💖💕

HAHAHAHA

you

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

HYUNJINNIEE⛹️♀️🏀🥐🐱😼

Heejin played well

Jungeun too 

WONWONNIE💤🛏😴😘😒

wb me 

HEEJIN🤓🤓🐇🐰💞💓

you didnt even play

WONWONNIE💤🛏😴😘😒

stfu heejin 

JUNGIEBESTIEE♥️😎😘💖💕

LMAOOOO

you

KASKSJAKASSJ

HYUNJINNIEE⛹️♀️🏀🥐🐱😼

I scored more points than all of you 

combined 

😼😼😼

you

HYUNJINIEEE U WERE SO 

GDDDDD

WONWONNIE💤🛏😴😘😒

stfu heejin 

HEEJIN🤓🤓🐇🐰💞💓

i didnt even say anything 

you know what nevermind 

JUNGIEBESTIEE♥️😎😘💖💕

I could’ve gotten double digit points

If not for fucking Coach subbing me 

out all the time 

And that fucking Hyeju

She thinks she’s better than me or 

something 

you

:O

WAT DID SHE SAYYY

JUNGIEBESTIEE♥️😎😘💖💕

She said the best players are 

starters 

I fucking scored more points than 

that asshole 

Fucking hell

Fuck Hyeju 

Fuck

WONWONNIE💤🛏😴😘😒

relax

HYUNJINNIEE⛹️♀️🏀🥐🐱😼

Jungeun you need to calm down

Have a bread 🥐

HEEJIN🤓🤓🐇🐰💞💓

HOW DOES IT FUCKING FEEL
JUNGIE 

TO BE BULLIED RELENTLESSLY 

IN CHAT 

WONWONNIE💤🛏😴😘😒

stfu heejin 

JUNGIEBESTIEE♥️😎😘💖💕

Shut up Heejin 

HYUNJINNIEE⛹️♀️🏀🥐🐱😼

Is this what you do on your phones

all day? 

you

HEHEEHH NAHHH ONLY WHEN

WE FEEL LIK IT

WONWONNIE💤🛏😴😘😒

ur overreacting @jungeun

hyeju prob didnt mean it

HEEJIN🤓🤓🐇🐰💞💓

yeah jungie go to bed its already

10pm 

NO ONE SAY A FUCKING WORD

WONWONNIE💤🛏😴😘😒

stfu 

heejin 

HEEJIN🤓🤓🐇🐰💞💓 left

JUNGIEBESTIEE♥️😎😘💖💕

Chae… That was too far… 

you

NOOO POOR HEEJIN SHE MUST

BE SO SADDDD 😭😭😭😭😭

HYUNJINNIEE⛹️♀️🏀🥐🐱😼

>:OOO

Chaewon you are ruthless 

WONWONNIE💤🛏😴😘😒

lol 

-

Jiwoo clutches her stomach as she bursts into another laughing fit. If she keeps this up, she’s going to have a six-pack by the end of tonight. 

A new message notification pops up at the top of her phone screen. When Jiwoo reads the name of the sender, she nearly dies of a heart attack. 

SOOYOUNGIEE😍😍💗❣️😳😳🥰

online

Hello, how are you?

omgg hi sooyoung!! im doing fine

thanks for asking 🥰

is there something u want to ask? >_<

It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. 

How did you find your first game? 

it was so funn!! but it was a lil scary at

the start bcos everth was so intense >-<

but u took great care of me n im really really

grateful for it 😣

sorry about missing the free throws :(( i 

promise to practice harder!!😤😤😤

For your first competitive game,

you did very well. 

I’m proud of you. 

-

Jiwoo squeals and excitedly kicks her feet up in the air. If Sooyoung’s praise through text already elicits such a visceral reaction from her, she can’t imagine how she would act if Sooyoung was here right now. In her room. Alone.

Speaking of Sooyoung, Jiwoo is really craving some head pats right now. Preferably from the cool and pretty senior who texted her first, by the way. 

They text late into the night, and Jiwoo doesn’t even notice how late it is until Sooyoung mentions that it’s already two in the morning. 

SOOYOUNGIEE😍😍💗❣️😳😳🥰

online

It’s late. You should rest. You 

must be tired. 

im okay!! im having so much fun talking

to you ❣️

That’s sweet. But it’s 2am. 

We can always talk tomorrow. 

awwwwwww 😣😢

in that case ill text u tomorrow!!

Jiwoo excitedly opens up her camera app, switching it to the selfie function. She bites her lip, catching herself. Is she really about to do this? 

SOOYOUNGIEE😍😍💗❣️😳😳🥰

online

Image

goodnight!!! sweet dreams 😴😘

Throwing her phone onto her desk, Jiwoo burrows into the covers and squirms around restlessly. She stuffs her face into her pillow and releases a loud scream. Finally, her exhaustion overcomes her, and she falls into a gentle sleep. 

Her dreams are visited by a pretty girl with a first-love smile. She brings along with her the promise of soft head pats. 

-

Kim Jiwoo (Basketball Team)

offline 

Image

goodnight!!! sweet dreams 😴😘

Tapping on the image to download it, Sooyoung falls backwards onto her bed, beating the mattress with her fists. It’s a selfie of Jiwoo, her soft brown hair tied up into long twin tails. Her collarbones are barely peeking out from the v-neck of her nightdress. Shiny eyes slightly droopy from sleepiness, her tiny mouth is formed into a nosebleed-inducing pout. 

How can somebody be this cute? Sooyoung grabs a pillow and flings it across the room. She spends the next ten minutes rolling around on the floor, staring at Jiwoo’s selfie the entire time. 

She stands abruptly. Would it be appropriate to send one back? Sooyoung taps on her phone’s selfie function. For the next twenty minutes, she tries to take a selfie, but no matter how she angles herself or adjusts the lighting of the room, she just isn’t satisfied with the final product. Maybe her smile is too awkward? She sighs dreamily, taking one last longing look at Jiwoo’s selfie before switching off her phone. 

Sooyoung tries her best to fall asleep, but it’s hard when the image of Jiwoo’s adorable sleepy face resurfaces in her mind every time she closes her eyes. 

A dumb smile makes its way onto Sooyoung’s face. Maybe Jinsol was right after all. 

Chapter Text

After a weekend spent stuck inside her room and permanently glued to her desk, Jinsol shows up to Monday practice feeling completely drained. 

She loves basketball, and her commitment to the team is certainly not in question. The high of winning their first competitive match still runs through her veins. Seeing the joyful expressions of her teammates made the tough training and meticulous preparation worth it. 

However, if her parents find out that she’s been going to practice and playing in games behind their backs, there’s going to be absolute hell to pay for.  

Jinsol picks up a ball to begin her warm-up routine. She starts with a couple of simple drives and lay-ups, making sure she lands every single one before moving on. Her floaters are decent, but her jump shot could definitely do some work. She doesn’t even bother practicing her long-range shooting, accepting that it’s something she’ll just never be good at. 

“Not practicing your threes?” 

Jinsol breaks out into a smile at the sound of Jungeun’s silky voice. She turns around, watching as her girlfriend pulls up and sinks a long-range shot into the basket. 

“I never hit them, so there’s no point practicing,” Jinsol shrugs her shoulders. 

Jungeun hums, her next shot slamming the outside of the rim. “Busy all weekend?”

“Yeah. Studying,” Jinsol ducks her head slightly, feeling Jungeun’s intense gaze boring straight through her skull. Scrutinising her body language. Finding fault in her words. 

Since the cohesion camp, they’ve largely been on good terms. They spend the majority of basketball practice attached by the hip, largely because it’s all the time Jinsol is able to afford without her parents getting too suspicious. Jungeun wasn’t happy that Jinsol’s weekends were off-limits, but Jinsol didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was only because she was barred from leaving the house. 

“You’re always studying these days,” Jungeun’s tone softens. “What for?”

Jungeun is asking because she doesn’t know. Because Jinsol hasn’t told her yet. Her parents’ borderline obsession with her admission into a city university. How they restrict her activities, cut off her freedom, and push her to well beyond her limits. The last thing she wants is for Jungeun to worry about her.

Another part of her is afraid. If she does manage to win a spot in university, how will she break the news to Jungeun? No matter what she says or how she phrases it, she’s going to break her girlfriend’s heart. Jinsol can’t bear to be the one to do that. 

“I want to be valedictorian this year. It’s not gonna fall into my lap, so I’m gonna work hard for it,” Not a complete lie. She will have to study to be the valedictorian this year, which will undoubtedly boost her portfolio. But she’s been the top student for two years running now, so it’s not like she has any serious competition for the title. 

Jungeun’s eyes are probing, and Jinsol hates it. She hates how Jungeun can see right through her, and can figure out whether she’s telling the truth or hiding something. Jinsol squirms under her curious stare. 

“I’m here if you need me,” Jungeun says simply, but Jinsol can hear the sincerity beneath her nonchalant tone. She can’t help but feel a little guilty. 

Jinsol musters up a watery smile. “Don’t worry about me,” She technically isn’t lying if she hasn’t said anything yet. 

Things will work out, won’t they? 

As they continue their warm-up routine, the rest of the team starts trickling in for practice. Jinsol raises her eyebrows when she spots Sooyoung and Jiwoo walking into the gym together. Seems like Sooyoung took her advice to heart after all.

Jungeun sidles up beside her. “Well, I never.” 

“That's cute,” Jinsol snickers. 

“Do you think they’re…” Jungeun nods her head toward Sooyoung and Jiwoo, who are warming up together by the other basket. 

“I mean, opposites attract, right?” 

“Let’s see…” Jungeun starts fiddling with her fingers. “I’m smart, you’re not. I take no shit, you take too much. I’m cute, you’re not-” 

“I am way cuter than you,” Jinsol counters defiantly. 

“Like hell you are,” Jungeun furrows her eyebrows at Jinsol, making her look a bit like an owl. 

After some time, Coach Haseul walks into the gym, with Miss Vivi several steps behind. 

“Alright! Gather around, people,” Coach Haseul calls out excitedly. 

Once the team is settled, Coach Haseul clears her throat to signal the start of their briefing.

“I hope everyone got some good rest over the weekend, because we’ve got another game this Friday. We just received news of our opponent in the next round. Miss Vivi, if you may?”

Miss Vivi steps forward, flashing the players a nervous smile before shifting her gaze to the paper in her hands.

“Our next opponent is going to be Cube High School.”

Hushed whispers and restless fidgeting break out amongst the players’ ranks. Cube High is one of the most well-known schools in their province, having appeared in the news several times for their sporting and academic excellence. From what Sooyoung tells her, Cube is a historical powerhouse and perennial provincial finalist. In their most recent tournament appearance, they even managed a highly respectable quarter-final berth, facing and defeating some of the very best teams in the country. 

 A twinge of apprehension wedges its way into Jinsol’s heart. To put it simply, they couldn’t have chosen a more difficult opponent to face in the second round of the qualifying phase. 

As if sensing the team’s unease, Coach Haseul flashes them a reassuring smile. “Alright people, we all know that this is gonna be a tough match. But if we don’t face the best teams now, we’re gonna have to face them in later rounds. So the way I see it, there’s really not much of a difference.”

“But, Coach, aren’t Cube like, a really good team?” Heejin points out nervously. 

Jinsol nods along.  Cube's numerous achievements and accolades easily speak for themselves. Meanwhile, the only valid accomplishment that their team has is winning a total of one competitive game. It’s pointless to make any sort of meaningful comparison. Everything is pointing towards an easy victory for Cube High. 

“Cube are good, sure. Invincible? I highly doubt that,” Coach Haseul breaks out into a grin. “Come on, people! Don’t count yourselves out so soon. We played super well to beat MLD, who’s to say we can’t do it again?”

“Yeah, Coach is right! We can’t mope around and wait to get our asses beat!” Yeojin jumps up, a defiant flame burning in her eyes. 

“If I’m gonna get my ass handed to me, I’d like to land a couple of punches first,” Jungeun says, looking rather amused. 

Next to Jinsol, Yerim looks absolutely horrified. “I don’t want to get my a… my… butt beat, I bruise easily…”

“Then we better win,” Hyeju says gravely. 

The rest of the team mutter in agreement. Well, everyone except for Jungeun, who scoffs and rolls her eyes in clear annoyance. Jinsol casts her a questioning look, but Jungeun just shakes her head, lips curled downwards. 

Jungeun had mentioned her dissatisfaction towards Hyeju over the weekend, although Jinsol doesn’t really understand what there is to be angry about. It seems like Jungeun has her own issues to sort out. Besides, Jinsol has way too much on her plate to be worrying about some minor spat. 

Coach Haseul claps her hands together. “Alright! Let’s get on with training. Today we’ll be working on endurance and defensive rotations. But before that, warm-up shots! Thirty seconds, let’s go, let’s go!” 

“Last one’s a rotten egg!” Yeojin yells as she sprints to pick up a basketball. 

“Not so fast! My legs freakin’ hurt…” Heejin whines as she limps after Yeojin.

The team throws themselves into practice, brimming with a newfound sense of purpose. With the ominous challenge of Cube High looming on the horizon, the optimism from their first win is already long gone. 

No one says it aloud, but if tiny little LOONA High is to beat a provincial powerhouse, they are going to need nothing short of a miracle.

-

Practice is already over by the time Sooyoung finally escapes the staff office. Constantly being interrupted by last-minute council matters is definitely annoying, but Sooyoung has her duties to fulfill. After all, this school would’ve fallen apart by now without her constant supervision and foresight. 

She decides to return to the gym for some extra practice, so that she can make up for whatever she missed during today’s session. Her stomach growls in protest, but she decides to ignore it for now. She contemplates what to have for dinner tonight. Mom and Dad are working late again, so she’ll probably have to buy takeaway or something. 

As Sooyoung nears the gym, she’s surprised to see light sifting through the gap underneath the doors. She wonders who could still be practicing at such a late hour. Hesitantly, she pushes the door open. 

“Jiwoo?” 

“EEEEEEE!” Startled, Jiwoo throws the ball she was holding high into the air. Turning around, she instantly relaxes when she realises that it’s only Sooyoung. 

“Oh! Sooyoung! Hi!” Jiwoo smiles brightly and waves. 

“Why are you doing here? Practice is over."

Jiwoo’s smile turns slightly sheepish. “Er, well, I thought I’d practice my free throws a bit! You know, in case I have to take one in our next match!” 

Without missing a beat, Jiwoo picks a ball up and haphazardly shoots it toward the basket. Unfortunately, it clangs against the rim and bounces away. 

“Well, it’s a lot harder than I thought…” Jiwoo pouts cutely, and Sooyoung has a strange urge to pat her on the head. 

She still remembers meeting Jiwoo for the first time, during their first practice session together. Back then, Jiwoo was incredibly raw at the sport, struggling to nail down even the most basic of fundamentals. A month on, and a lot of intensive practice later, she’s already improved quite a bit. Sooyoung is nothing if not proud of her progress. 

Of course, Jiwoo isn’t anywhere close to being considered a good basketball player. But that can be fixed with the proper training and match experience. It’s down to Sooyoung and Coach Haseul to maximise her natural athletic gifts. 

Picking up a ball of her own, Sooyoung turns to Jiwoo, then nods towards the basket. 

“Let me practice with you.” 

Jiwoo instantly brightens up at the suggestion. “Okay! Let’s do this! Woohoo!” She starts jumping up and down excitedly to pump herself up. “Let’s go, let’s go! Hey, hey!” 

Sooyoung wastes no time getting into practice, knocking down a shot that swishes through the basket. All the while, she tries to hide the growing smile forming on her face. 

For the next half hour, Jiwoo practices her free throws while Sooyoung mentors her. Although Jiwoo whines about being bored of doing the same thing over and over again, Sooyoung reminds her that repetition breeds perfection, which is enough to convince Jiwoo to keep at it.

“I’m tired! Ugh!” Jiwoo plops herself onto the court floor, her face red from fatigue. 

Sooyoung chuckles. “How do your arms feel?” 

“Like jelly,” Jiwoo holds her arms up, and they immediately flop back down.

Satisfied, Sooyoung starts collecting the stray balls and returning them to the storage locker. “Let’s end it here. You need to rest.” 

“Ehhhh?! But I still have so much more I need to practice!” Jiwoo tries rising to her feet, but her arms are too weak to support her weight, and she ends up crashing back to the ground. “Ow, ow. Okay, you’re right. Let’s stop for today!” 

“Give me your hands,” Grabbing onto Jiwoo’s wrists, Sooyoung effortlessly pulls her up to a standing position. She underestimates her own strength, however, and ends up pulling Jiwoo right up against her. 

Jiwoo lets out a surprised squeak, her lithe body warm against Sooyoung’s front, like a snug blanket on a rainy Sunday morning. She casts her eyes downwards, her heart nearly stopping when she looks into Jiwoo’s large, sparkly orbs. 

Her stomach autonomously decides that it’s the perfect moment to let out a growl. A very loud growl. 

Jiwoo blinks in surprise, before she bursts out into a fit of laughter. Sooyoung feels her cheeks flare up in embarrassment. 

“Someone’s hungry, huh?” Jiwoo grins up at Sooyoung, her smile so infectious that Sooyoung even finds herself smiling back awkwardly. 

“It’s… been a long day,” Sooyoung stammers, distracted by the sweet scent of Jiwoo’s strawberry-flavoured hair. 

As though sensing Sooyoung’s discomfort, Jiwoo hastily distances herself, although the smile on her face doesn’t waver in the slightest. 

“Let’s have dinner together, then!” Jiwoo exclaims. 

That catches Sooyoung off-guard. It’s been a while since she’s gone out for a meal with a friend. 

Friend. What is Jiwoo to her? Basketball mentee? A cute junior who she can’t stop thinking about? With the stress of numerous commitments wearing Sooyoung down every day, she hasn’t found the time to figure Jiwoo out. 

Then she remembers what Jinsol told her the other night, about opening up and being vulnerable. About finding someone to put her trust in. A confidant. 

When Sooyoung looks at the beaming girl standing before her, she figures that trusting Jiwoo wouldn’t be a bad idea. 

She hesitates slightly, before giving Jiwoo a short nod. “Sure.”

“Great!” Jiwoo’s face lights up instantly, and if Sooyoung didn’t think that Jiwoo was the cutest girl she had ever met, she would definitely be lying. 

“Let’s shower and get changed!” Jiwoo starts pushing Sooyoung toward the locker rooms. “I know this really great place down the road, it has special dinner deals for students and you can top up a dollar for any drink of your choice! Or maybe you want pasta instead? I know pasta places! Ooh! Ooh! How about vegetarian food? I know a place a couple blocks away from here, though I’m not sure if they’re open this late… Maybe we should treat ourselves to something good? Ooh, I like that idea! The pizza house has a secret menu, but only if you know the special password…” 

-

After dinner over a large pepperoni pizza, Jiwoo learns three things about Sooyoung. 

One, Sooyoung is a sucker for good food. The way her eyes scrunch up adorably as she savours every bite has Jiwoo giggling uncontrollably. 

Two, Sooyoung is no robot. Far from one, in fact. Away from school and her need to maintain a flawless image, Sooyoung seems much more relaxed here. She talks openly, laughs without abandon, and even makes a few lame jokes that Jiwoo wouldn’t have found funny if she wasn’t completely head over heels for her. 

Lastly, Sooyoung is an absolute sweetheart. Jiwoo notices all the little things. Offering the carry their bags when they enter the restaurant, graciously pulling Jiwoo’s seat out for her to sit, offering to cut the pizza into slices, and giving Jiwoo the first slice. She even insists on paying, no matter how much Jiwoo tries to convince her that they go dutch. 

The sun has long set by the time they slip out of the restaurant, Jiwoo laughs as Sooyoung clumsily trips over her own shoes. 

“Darn it! My shoes are too big,” Sooyoung mutters awkwardly.

Jiwoo takes deep breaths to control her laughter. “You need to be more careful, Sooyoungie!” 

“That price tag gave me a shock. Since when did pizza become so expensive?” Sooyoung frowns. 

“You’re showing your age, Sooyoungie! Do you even leave the house on weekends?” Jiwoo teases lightly. 

“No, I prefer staying home. I’m lame,” Sooyoung says sheepishly, sounding slightly embarrassed. 

Calm, authoritative basketball team captain on the weekdays, a lazy homebody on the weekends, seems like Sooyoung is more of a dork than Jiwoo initially made her out to be. 

Jiwoo shakes her head. “You’re not lame at all! I actually think you’re pretty cu- I mean, cool!” 

Okay, she does find the contrast cute, but she’s definitely not going to tell Sooyoung that to her face. 

“Oh, good. Finally, someone gets it,” Sooyoung sighs with relief, followed by a short pause. It seems like Sooyoung wants to say something, but she looks a little nervous. Jiwoo waits patiently for her to speak. 

“Do you… need to go home now?” Sooyoung asks, stumbling over her words. 

Jiwoo takes a quick glance at her phone screen. It’s only half past eight. And she’d take any chance to spend more time alone with Sooyoung.

“Nope! I don’t have a curfew,” Jiwoo leans in curiously. “Is there somewhere you wanna go?” 

With an excited smile, Sooyoung begins walking, and gestures for Jiwoo to walk beside her. 

“Follow me.”

They walk for while, eventually stopping by a small clearing, overgrown with shrubbery and foliage. Stepping through, Jiwoo is surprised to find an old playground on the other side of the bush. A small concrete court is located next to the playground, where a single basketball hoop stands, the ropes of the basket net fraying at the ends. 

“I found this place a very long time ago. I’d come here with Jinsol every day after school, and we’d play basketball together,” Sooyoung’s eyes make a quick sweep of the place, which prompts Jiwoo to follow suit. Without the light from the faulty street lamps nearby, the playground is dark, dimly illuminated only by the gentle glow of the moon. 

There’s a fantastical quality to the space; a dichotomy that comes with being forgotten by everyone but remembered by time. Shadows dance along the ground as moonlight slips through the foliage. It fills Jiwoo with warm comfort, putting her into a tiny trance. 

“It’s like some sort of sanctuary,” Jiwoo keeps her voice low, not wanting to disturb the magic circulating the space. 

Sooyoung walks ahead, her steps silent; almost reverent. “Whenever I’m stressed, or I need some time to myself, I like to come here,” She takes a seat on the concrete floor of the court, and pats the space beside her, gesturing for Jiwoo to sit. 

Jiwoo obliges, not particularly worried about dirtying her white skirt, although she knows her mom is going to give her a scolding after. 

They sit together in comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of crickets singing and the whistling of wind through leaves. A light wind blows, gently ruffling Jiwoo’s hair. She feels Sooyoung’s knee resting against her own, and her heart does a loop-the-loop. 

“What made you start playing basketball?” Jiwoo asks before the silence starts making her overthink. 

“Hm?” Sooyoung turns to face Jiwoo. She looks beautiful under the moonlight. “Well, I was watching a basketball game on the television when I was a kid. It was the championship game to decide the winner of the tournament. Watching them play with so much energy and passion, made me want to do that too.” 

Chuckling lightly, Sooyoung tilts her head up to admire a starry sky. “I used to dream of becoming a professional basketball player. I’d go to high school and win a lot of games, I’d hit the game-winning shot in the final as the captain, and I’d lift the trophy in front of thousands of adoring fans.” 

Sighing, Sooyoung casts her eyes down to her shoes. “Well, I used to, anyway.” 

“What changed?” Jiwoo asks softly. 

Sooyoung turns to look at her. A sad smile is etched onto her face. 

“I grew up, I guess.” 

Personally speaking, Jiwoo doesn’t really have a dream in life. Right now, she’s just focusing on making it through high school and having fun with her friends. But Sooyoung has a dream. A dream that she might never be able to pursue. And it breaks Jiwoo’s heart to know that it’s eating her up inside. 

“I don’t… like this town,” Sooyoung says sullenly. “It’s suffocating. We’re stuck in the middle of nowhere, and everything is so far away. No matter how good I think I am, it’s not going to matter because no one cares about this place anyways.”

“I’m in my third year now. I don’t have much time left,” There’s a faraway look on Sooyoung’s face, like she’s trying to remember the good times. “It would’ve been nice to make it to nationals, even win a trophy. That would’ve been amazing. But it’s probably too late for that now.” 

“It’s not!” 

“Huh?” Sooyoung blinks in surprise. 

“It’s not too late!” The words are out of Jiwoo’s mouth before she can stop herself. “You have us! A-and we’ve got Hyunjinie and Jungie and Heejin - we’ve got awesome players this year! And we have you! You’re our captain, and you’re a super duper awesome player too!”

“Jiwoo-”

Jiwoo is standing now. She doesn’t really know why she’s trying so hard to convince Sooyoung. The odds are stacked against her; against them. A school administration that provides them with no support. A body of students who ridicule and look down on them. A dreary town that sucks the life out of its inhabitants. Sooyoung’s ambition is nothing more than a distant pipedream; a childish fantasy borne from misplaced optimism. 

But what is a dream if not something to strive for, no matter how difficult the journey ahead might seem? 

She supposes there’s another reason in there somewhere, and it’s that she just hates seeing Sooyoung sad. 

“I’m gonna train super hard. Super, super, super hard! We’re gonna beat Cube! We’re gonna beat any team that stands in our way! We’re gonna make it to nationals and we’re gonna win the entire thing!” Jiwoo breaks out into a grin. “And we’re gonna help you achieve your dream, Sooyoungie!”

Silence falls around them once more. Jiwoo feels increasingly uncomfortable standing while Sooyoung stares at her like she’s got a screw loose. 

Eventually, Sooyoung starts to chuckle.

“Thank you. For being so positive,” Sooyoung says lightly, in a tone that comes across to Jiwoo as disbelieving; dismissive of their team’s chances of success. 

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Jiwoo asks quietly. 

Sooyoung slowly rises to her feet. She doesn’t reply for a moment. 

“I didn’t say that,” She eventually says. “It’s just… a team like ours reaching nationals… let alone winning the entire tournament, it’s going to take nothing short of a miracle.”

“Then let’s do it!” Jiwoo exclaims excitedly. “We have great players on our team. We can make miracles! You just have to believe, Sooyoungie!” 

Another gust of wind blows past, billowing strands of hair into Jiwoo’s face. She pushes the stray hairs away, focusing solely on Sooyoung’s shimmering eyes, noting how they swirl with conflict; rife with indecision. 

Finally, Sooyoung flashes a small smile. Reaching out, her hand lightly rests on the top of Jiwoo’s head. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

Jiwoo leans in closer, melting into Sooyoung’s gentle touch. A part of her wishes that time would stop, so this moment would last forever. 

It doesn’t though, because Sooyoung quickly retracts her hand. Jiwoo pouts, already mourning the absence of her warmth. But she tries to console herself. There will be many chances for head pats in the future. This is just the first of many. 

“It’s late. Let me walk you home,” Sooyoung says shyly, deliberately avoiding Jiwoo’s fond gaze. 

Feeling bold, Jiwoo wraps herself around Sooyoung’s arm, her heart jumping at the strangled noise that comes out from the back of Sooyoung’s throat. “Okay! Let’s go!” Sooyoung gives her a stiff nod, before they start heading back the way they came from. 

All the while, Jiwoo can feel Sooyoung’s heart thumping relentlessly against her chest, in perfect sync with the rhythm of her own. 

-

As Vivi glares distastefully at the door to Mister Jeong’s office, she wonders what the annoying little dipshit could possibly want this time. 

Without warning, she pushes the door open, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. “Mister Jeong, you wanted to see me?” 

“Ah, Miss Wong,” Mister Jeong removes her spectacles and makes a show of setting them down on his desk. He doesn’t offer Vivi a seat, and he doesn’t look particularly pleased either. 

“I’ve caught wind that the basketball team is fully operational, and that this team of yours actually won a game last week,” Mister Jeong leans forward on his desk. “I must profess that I’m disappointed that you didn’t take my advice to heart.”

Vivi shrugs. “They’re a motivated bunch of kids. I didn’t do anything.” 

“The basketball team is a huge strain on our budget for-”

“I looked through the financial reports,” Vivi says coolly. “Other than allocating the team a single court to practice on, the budget allocated to the basketball team sits at a pretty sum of zero dollars. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you who made that particular decision.”

“Miss Wong, you are toeing a very fine line-” 

“We arrange our own transport to every game, along with food and uniforms kits for our athletes. Everything is coming out of our own pockets. So if you’re attempting to use budget constraints as a reason to disband the basketball team when they’ve done nothing but work hard and do their talking on the court, then I kindly suggest you find another reason.” 

Mister Jeong stares at Vivi, his jaw set tight, the exposed vein at his temple prominent and throbbing. Vivi gulps as she stares back. She stuck out her neck for the team, to give them a chance to play the sport they love. She just hopes that it won’t cost her job in the process. 

“Fine,” Mister Jeong relents, and Vivi sighs in relief. “But I’d like to see some results from your… investment, hm? How about this? If the team wins a trophy this year, I promise to leave them alone. Why, I’ll give them all the resources they'll require to continue that success. I’ll even give them the entire gym to practice with!” 

“But if they don’t,” Mister Jeong lowers his voice to a whisper. Vivi feels a quiet fury rising inside of her. “I am going to personally disband this team myself. Do I make myself clear?”

Vivi wants to scream. That’s a completely unrealistic target, and they both know it. She wants to grab the hair on his stupid balding head and give him a piece of her mind. But she knows better than to lose her cool. 

She takes a deep breath, and puts on a serene smile. 

“Perfectly clear, Mister Jeong.” 

Mister Jeong blinks, perhaps surprised at how calm Vivi is. “G-good,” He struggles to regain his composure. “In that case, I have nothing else for you. You may go.” 

“Thank you, Mister Jeong,” Vivi bows slightly, before purposefully heading toward the door.

“And might I add something?” Vivi turns around just as she’s about to leave. “Don’t count my girls out. They might surprise you.” 

“I certainly look forward to that,” Mister Jeong says smugly, probably already relishing the thought of disbanding the team in the most humiliating way possible. 

With one last smile, Vivi exits the office, slamming the door shut on her way out. 

-

“The motherfucker said WHAT?”

Vivi grimaces at Haseul’s reaction. “Look, I know that it’s a completely unrealistic target and that-”

“Unrealistic?” Haseul gives Vivi a puzzled look. “Unrealistic my ass, we’re gonna win that damn trophy and rub it in his stupid fucking face afterwards!” 

Blinking rapidly, Vivi isn’t sure whether Haseul is being serious or not. “Are- are you being serious?”

“Oh, I am very fucking serious,” Haseul snaps back. “Piece of shit doesn’t believe in MY team? He’s gonna have a whole ‘nother thing coming. That’s for sure, that’s for fucking sure.”

Vivi’s eyes sweep across the court, where the basketball team are training hard in preparation for their upcoming game. She doesn’t know much about basketball, but she can recognise what effort looks like. And it seems to her that the girls are giving it their all. Sooyoung in particular is training like a woman possessed, and that intensity seems to be rubbing off on the rest of the squad. 

“That bastard just made things personal,” Haseul mutters. “Guess we’ll just have to win a trophy, huh? Sounds easy enough.”

“And we’ll rub it in his stupid face afterwards?” Vivi adds cheekily.

Haseul grins back. “Now you’re speaking my language.” 

Without missing a beat, Haseul jogs back onto the court and starts putting the team through their paces. Vivi admires the way she works, and how she effectively gets information through to her players, even managing to get the team to buy in wholeheartedly to her tactics and mentality, without being overly demanding or excessively strict. 

Winning a trophy at any level is a monumental task for even the best of sides. But with Haseul at the helm, Vivi has a feeling that they might have a chance. 

Chapter Text

“They just keep getting bigger, don’t they?” 

Heejin stares up at the main campus building of Cube High School. She tilts her head upwards, counting at least six storeys until her neck starts to hurt. 

“I mean, this is Cube, after all,” Jinsol comments with a nervous smile. “They’ve got infrastructure and resources we can only dream of.” 

“Hey, cut the negative chat,” Jungeun slides up beside them. “They’ve got money and support and fans and all that crap, but we’ve got Hyunjin. Don’t forget that.”

“Hi,” Hyunjin waves bashfully. 

There’s still an hour before the match is slated to start, but the bleachers are already starting to fill up with Cube supporters. Most of them ignore LOONA’s entrance into the gymnasium, but more than a couple jeer and heckle them, probably eager to see a stomping. 

After playing in a real competitive game last week, Heejin hopes that she has the handle on her pre-game nerves by now. But the mere prospect of their impending duel with a truly elite school has her shaking uncontrollably. 

“You okay?” Heejin drops her bag in surprise. She turns, calming when she realises that it’s only Hyunjin. She looks completely relaxed, totally disconnected from the heavy tension that hangs over the claustrophobic locker room. 

Heejin hastily picks up the bag and stuffs it into her locker. “Yeah. Just a little nervous, you know?”

“Uh, not really,” Hyunjin scratches her cheek. Heejin stares at her incredulously. “I mean, they’re a good team. But so are we. Right, Yerim?” Hyunjin abruptly drags Yerim towards them, who looks like she’s about to be violently sick. 

“Y-Y-Y-Yes!” Yerim stammers, her eyes wide with terror. It seems like the nerves are already starting to get to her. 

“C’mon Yerim, stop being a baby,” Yeojin chides. “The game hasn’t even started yet. You got plenty of time to be nervous then.” 

“I heard Cube has a player who’s almost six feet tall,” Hyeju says, clearly trying to scare Yerim.

Yeojin turns back to look at Hyeju. “You do know that you’re gonna be matching up against her, right?” 

“I-I am?” Hyeju asks, her face turning pale. 

The locker room entrance flies open, and Coach Haseul stalks into the room. 

“Alright, people! I hope you’re all- Pipsqueak, hurry up and change. Warm-up starts in ten.” 

“Aye, Coach!” Yeojin grabs her gear and disappears into the showers. 

“Alright! While we wait for Pipsqueak, let me just get a feel for how everybody is feeling right now. Excited? Nervous? About to shit yourself? Don’t be shy! I wanna hear what you’re all thinking.” 

The locker room descends into a stony silence, which only emphasises the loud cheers of the Cube supporters outside. 

Ever the spokesperson, Sooyoung rises from her seat. “We are ready to play, Coach.” Heejin isn’t sure where Sooyoung got that sentiment from, because right now, she feels the furthest thing from ready. 

Coach Haseul seems to sense the uncertainty and apprehension seeping through every crack of the locker room. She lets out a light sigh. 

“Look, I know, you know that this is gonna be a tough game. And we’re going up against a hell of a good team,” Coach Haseul tilts her head questioningly. “But so what? So what if they were a quarter-finalist last year? That was last year. That’s history. We’re living in the present right now, aren’t we?” 

The team mutter soft agreements. From an outsider’s standpoint, they’re clearly on course for a hiding to nothing. Written off. Disregarded. Easy opponents. 

“Remember who you’re playing against. They’re a bunch of high school kids, just like you.  I know how good we are, and how good we can be. Do you?”

Around the room, heads begin to nod. All they can do now is give it their best shot. After all, odds are meant to be beaten, right?

“I want all of you- no, I need you to go out there and give it your all,” Coach Haseul’s eyes are red and smoky, ablaze with passion. “And don’t ever count yourselves out. Alright?” 

“Yes, Coach!” The team responds to Coach Haseul’s valiant rallying cry. Right at that moment, a buzzer sounds to signal the start of the warm-up. 

“I’m back!” Yeojin slides back into the locker room, kitted out in her jersey. “What did I miss?” 

“The cheesiest fucking speech you’ll ever hear in your life,” Jungeun quips. Sooyoung opens the door, and the cheers from the crowd flood into the locker room, so loud that they’re almost deafening. 

“Come on, let’s warm up.” 

-

The gymnasium is completely packed. A sea of purple floods the bleachers on either side of the court, surrounding the LOONA team like a swarm of heckling bees. 

It’s offputting, to say the least. Heejin growls in frustration as she misses yet another shot. She just can’t seem to find a good rhythm at the moment. 

Chaewon passes the ball back to Heejin, and she lets it fly. To her relief, the ball finally sinks into the hoop.

She makes a quick scan of the rest of the team. Jungeun and Jinsol are practicing combination plays, while the first-year trio line up around the perimeter and knock down shots. 

As for Hyunjin, she’s casually dribbling the ball towards the hoop. Her movements are relaxed, composed. It’s as though she was built to handle this pressure. 

Come to think of it, there’s still much about Hyunjin that Heejin doesn’t know about. Hyunjin doesn’t seem to be the sharing type, and any questions related to Starship Prep only result in her burrowing deeper into her own shell. 

It’s odd, not to mention a little frustrating. But Heejin doesn’t want to push Hyunjin too hard. She should start sharing naturally as she becomes more comfortable around them. At least, Heejin hopes.

“The Cube team is looking really good!” Jiwoo exclaims. Following her pointed finger towards the other side of the court, Heejin stares in mute awe as the Cube players go through their warm-up routine. Decked out in stylish purple jerseys, they move with poise and confidence befitting of an elite team, gliding skillfully across the court to the adoration of their fans. 

She manages to identify several members of the Cube squad. Team captain J. Soyeon, a star in their run to the quarter-finals last year. L. Juhyeon, a talented first-year who was earmarked by recruiters as a future star. Cube’s most lethal shooter, K. Nayoung, nonchalantly knocks down a shot from half-court.

Heejin gulps, the deafening cheers of the crowd ringing in her ears. “We’re screwed.” 

“No, we’re not!” Jiwoo holds out her fist, clenching her jaw with determination. “We can win this!” 

“Woah, I wanna try that,” Yeojin begins to make her way to the halfway line, but Hyeju pulls her back.

“Don’t embarrass us, you clown.” 

“Aw… You’re no fun.” 

A buzzer sounds to signal the end of the warm-up. The teams leave the court and head to the sidelines for final instructions. 

“Alright, people. You know the drill. Starting five for this game! Sooyoung, Jinsol, Hyunjin, Heejin, and Hyeju. Any questions? No? Alright! Sooyoung, take it away.”

The team put their hands into the circle. Heejin casts a worried glance towards Jungeun, who can hardly conceal her frustration.

“Let’s do this. Everyone on three,” Sooyoung says, sounding less awkward than last time. 

“Someone’s been practicing,” Jinsol smirks, earning a few snickers. 

Sooyoung glares at her. “As I was saying, everyone on three. One, two, three!”

“ORBITS FLY!” The players fling their hands up, entrusting their hopes to nobody but themselves.

Heejin takes a shaky breath, trying to quell the uncomfortable sensation building in her stomach. This is easily the most important match of their season so far. And the road ahead is only going to get tougher. Their opponents are going to be faster, stronger, more cohesive, more confident, and more dominant. This is in stark contrast to their team, who are just barely finding their footing at a competitive level. 

As they jog onto the court, the crowd’s cheers cause vibrations to ripple throughout the gym. They shake the ground under Heejin’s feet, rattling her to the bone. 

Inter-High School National Basketball Championship, Qualifying Phase (Girls Division)

Idalso Province

Round 2

Cube High School vs LOONA High School 

STARTING FIVE (Cube)

J. Soyeon (c)

S. Yuqi

Y. Sangah

H. Chowon

L. Juhyeon

STARTING FIVE (LOONA) 

H. Sooyoung (c)

J. Jinsol 

J. Heejin

K. Hyunjin

S. Hyeju 

-

The referee slings the ball into the air. L. Juhyeon climbs over Jinsol and easily wins the tip-off. Sliding back towards her own basket, Heejin braces herself for Cube’s first attack of the game. 

J. Soyeon dribbles calmly towards the LOONA basket, her movements lackadaisical as the rest of the Cube team fan out around her. 

Heejin makes sure to keep an eye on S. Yuqi, whom Coach Haseul earmarked to be a particularly tricky shooter to deal with. She’s marauding around the three-point line, probing for a hole in the LOONA defence. Heejin quickly steps out to deny her space, but crashes straight into the back of L. Juhyeon. 

The ball finds S. Yuqi easily. With a spring in her step, she blasts into the paint, leaving Heejin swiping at air. Luckily, S. Yuqi’s fadeaway shot hits the rim and falls into Hyeju’s waiting arms. Wasting no time, Hyeju lays the ball off to Hyunjin, who dances past Y. Sangah and storms towards the Cube basket. 

To Heejin’s surprise, Cube doesn’t do so much as flinch at Hyunjin’s tenacious speed. H. Chowon and J. Soyeon hound Hyunjin relentlessly, backing her into the corner. But Hyunjin somehow manages to hold onto the ball, slinging a perfect pass towards Heejin. 

Heejin grabs the ball, desperately searching for the basket to get off a shot. The net is open for her. Tantalising. Inviting. Heejin shapes up to shoot, failing to notice that S. Yuqi is already pouncing on her. A bolt of panic strikes Heejin’s heart, and she unleashes a wild shot that skims the rim. 

Barely thirty seconds have elapsed since the start of the match, and Heejin is already feeling winded. She knew this was going to be difficult, but she’s still completely blindsided by the intensity of Cube’s elite defence. 

Jinsol jumps for the rebound, but she is helplessly nudged aside by a taller and stronger L. Juhyeon. In the time it takes to blink, J. Soyeon hurls the ball across the court, and Sooyoung is left to fend for herself against three marauding Cube attackers. 

She does what she can, moving across to shut down S. Yuqi. But all it takes is a simple lob over Sooyoung’s head to take her out of the equation. H. Chowon receives the ball, and with the simplest of layups, gives Cube the first points of the game. 

“HEY! FOCUS, PEOPLE!” Heejin flinches at the sound of Coach Haseul’s booming voice. 

A firm hand rests on her shoulder. “Come on,” Hyunjin urges, but Heejin struggles to hear her over the raucous cheers of the crowd. 

For one reason or another, she just can’t seem to settle into the game. The Cube defence is impenetrable, not to mention absolutely terrifying. S. Yuqi is already harassing Heejin by the time she gets the ball, sticking to her like glue. In a blind panic, Heejin fumbles the ball to Hyunjin, who has a swarm of Cube players to get past. 

She takes the challenge in stride. A shimmy, a quick drive to the rim, a gravity-defying feint. But try as she might, Hyunjin can’t seem to break through the wall. A quick pass out to Sooyoung in the corner bears no fruit, as Y. Sangah smothers her shot and expertly grabs the rebound. 

The LOONA team returns to their defensive positions, but Heejin can feel her nerves creeping in, exacerbated by the skittish movements of her teammates. They’re playing scared, being too passive, because Cube is just that terrifying to play against. 

Coach Haseul wasn’t lying when she mentioned that S. Yuqi would be a threat. She roams around the court, making it difficult for Heejin to track her. J. Soyeon drives past Hyunjin and slings the ball out to S. Yuqi, who is already shaping to shoot. 

Arms outstretched, Heejin desperately rushes forward to block the shot. But S. Yuqi is too quick, launching the ball over her head and into the basket for a gorgeous three-point shot. 

The crowd croons their approval. Just like that, Cube has stormed into an ominous 5-0 lead. 

Heejin lets out a harsh breath. Having to play against the second-best team in their province was already bad enough. Guarding a player like S. Yuqi is the cherry on top of a really shitty sundae. 

“My bad,” She mutters to Sooyoung, who gives her a grim nod. 

“Don’t worry about it. The game’s just started,” Jinsol points out. 

“We just need to score,” Hyunjin says hastily. “We’ll build momentum from there.” 

They do manage to score, eventually. A rare lapse in concentration by the Cube defence allows Hyunjin to slip through a tiny gap. Sooyoung fires the ball into space, and Hyunjin powers past a horde of defenders to knock down a crisp shot for two points. 

“Nice,” Heejin exchanges a quick high-five with Hyunjin. She spares a glance at the scoreboard, trying to not get too discouraged by the ugly-looking 9-2 scoreline. 

Unfortunately, their fortunes don’t pick up from there. The rest of the quarter continues in largely similar fashion. Cube dominates, while LOONA is left chasing shadows. Coach Haseul tries everything in her power to stem the onslaught, from timeouts to substitutions and strategy tweaks. It turns out to be a pointless endeavour, for every time LOONA manages to score, Cube responds with a bucket of their own to maintain their commanding lead. 

Their opponents are a considerable step up from MLD, but it feels like the challenge has come too fast, too soon. Cube is absolutely ruthless, cold-blooded in the execution of their play, and have LOONA completely dancing to their tune. 

Hyunjin does what she can to keep the score close, but even she is finding it a challenge to overcome Cube’s defensive structure. She valiantly attacks the basket, but L. Juhyeon rises to meet her layup attempt. Hyunjin twists in mid-air, slipping the ball to Sooyoung, who barely squeezes it into the basket for two. With not long left to go in the quarter, the score is 19-12. Advantage Cube. 

Determined to break LOONA’s spirit, Cube launch a lightning-quick attack from the restart. Heejin and her teammates are left scrambling as H. Chowon storms towards the basket and pulls up to shoot. 

Like a bolt from the blue, Jiwoo leaps into the air to contest the shot, but she’s just a fraction too late as she crashes into H. Chowon, sending both of them falling. Unfortunately, Jiwoo’s efforts are for naught. The ball kisses the inside of the rim and slips into the basket, just as the referee blows for a foul. It just about sums up a quarter where nothing seemed to go their way. 

Heejin hastily pulls Jiwoo up, who is rubbing her arm in slight discomfort. 

“You good?” Heejin asks anxiously. Jiwoo gives her a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t hide the frustration emanating from her tightly clenched jaw. 

H. Chowon easily scores from the free throw, stretching Cube’s lead to a staggering ten points. With mere seconds left to go, Jiwoo quickly restarts the game with a pass to Hyunjin. If they play this right, they might still be able to salvage this quarter somewhat. 

Heejin takes a moment to wipe away the sweat pouring down her face. The jeers of the crowd pound into her ears, creating an oppressive atmosphere that has her gasping for breath. 

It doesn’t seem to faze Hyunjin, who powers past two Cube players and drives into the paint. L. Juhyeon is already in position, sealing off Hyunjin’s path to the rim. Noticing a pocket of open space left behind by J. Soyeon, Heejin rushes to the edge of the three-point line and catches Hyunjin’s clever backpass. 

She looks up. There’s a clean shot of the basket, but K. Nayoung is rushing towards her to stop the shot. Thankfully, Jungeun barges between them in the nick of time, giving Heejin enough time to step back and let the ball fly. It floats through the air in a perfect arc, sliding through the basket to cut the deficit. 

The quarter buzzer couldn’t have come at a better time. Heejin stumbles off the court and collapses onto the bench, gratefully accepting the water bottle given to her by Miss Vivi. She takes deep, desperate gulps, struggling to fight off the mental and physical exhaustion.  

Lifting her head to look at the scoreboard, Heejin purses her cracked lips. With the score 22-15 in Cube’s favour, it’s a long way back into this game for LOONA. 

“Hey,” Heejin turns to look at Hyunjin, who doesn’t seem all that worried. “We’ve still got three more quarters.”

Hyunjin is right. It’s only the end of the first quarter, which means there’s still plenty of time to get back into this game. 

But it also means there’s still plenty of time for Cube to pile on the pain.

-

“Timeout, timeout! HEY! I WANNA TIMEOUT, DAMN IT!” 

The LOONA team scurry off the court to the mocking jeers of the Cube supporters. Jungeun wishes she could shut them up somehow. But alas, she’s stuck sitting on the bench, feeling more helpless than she’s ever felt.

A body slumps onto the bench next to her. Heejin looks horribly fatigued, with matted hair plastered to her forehead, her face red from exertion. To be fair to Heejin, she’s never had the best stamina, and it’s not helped by the fact that Cube has been running absolute rings around them. 

Jungeun chews on her lower lip. They’ve been chasing shadows for much of the second quarter. A simple check of the scoreboard all but confirms Cube’s domination of the game, as they lead LOONA by a staggering 32-21 scoreline. 

Coach Haseul raps her clipboard, bringing the team back into focus. “Alright, let’s make this quick. What the hell is going on out there?” 

“They’re double-teaming me,” Hyunjin says exasperatedly. “I don’t have space to drive inside, and they’re shutting down all our attacks.” 

Jinsol wrinkles her nose. “We need to mitigate Soyeon’s influence somehow. If we do that, she won’t be able to set others up to score.”  

“But how?” Hyeju asks gruffly.

“Maybe if you could actually play defense, we wouldn’t be losing this badly,” Jungeun mutters under her breath. 

“Right,” Coach Haseul chews on the end of her pen. “Here’s our gameplan. We need to get more energy going out there. Heejin is done for this quarter. Jiwoo, you’re up. I need you to harass that Soyeon girl and anyone who tries to penetrate the perimeter. Don’t let anyone through. Got it?” 

Jiwoo leaps up from her seat, raring to go. “Got it!”

Turning to Hyeju next, Coach Haseul gives her an apologetic look. “I’m benching you for the rest of the quarter. They’ve been targeting you on defence, and it’s starting to cost us a lot of points,” She then looks at Jungeun. “Jungeun, you’re up. Play in Hyeju’s position at the four. Defend the paint, and fight for every rebound. If you can, get some offense going. Got it?” 

Jungeun suppresses a smile at the sight of Hyeju’s sour expression. If it wasn’t already obvious, she’s delighted that Hyeju is finally being exposed. It’s about time Coach Haseul saw Hyeju for the player she really is. Limited in skill, unrefined, a liability on the court. 

And now, she is getting a chance to prove herself at Hyeju’s expense. Even better. 

The buzzer sounds to signal the end of the timeout. Coach Haseul pats Jungeun on the shoulder. “Show me what you got.” 

As the teams return to the court, Jungeun feels a fire igniting inside of her, burning with a point to prove. She’ll show Son Hyeju how it’s done. She’ll show Coach Haseul who really deserves to be on the court. 

Receiving the ball from the restart, Hyunjin swiftly brings the ball up. It seems that the Cube team has made some substitutions as well, because none of their starting five are currently on the court. Jungeun guesses that they’ll be resting for the remainder of the quarter. Now is their chance to rack up some points. 

Hyunjin immediately goes to work, bursting past N. Hina as she drives towards the basket. L. Yujeong steps forward to meet her, but Hyunjin beats her with a deft side-step and lifts the ball up. It kisses the backboard at an angle before dropping into the basket for two. 

Cube tries to string together an attack, but it’s clear that their second unit still needs some time to get into the swing of the game. Jiwoo immediately pounces on their uncertainty, grabbing a loose pass from Y. Shuhua and sending LOONA on the attack again. 

Jungeun leaps to grab Jiwoo’s pass and speeds towards the basket, acutely aware of Y. Minnie breathing down her neck. She skids to a stop, switching direction and instinctively lobbing a pass to Jinsol. She quickly returns the ball to Jungeun, who slices through the crumbling Cube defense for a simple layup. 

“Nice!” Jinsol jogs over to give Jungeun a high five, her large smile making Jungeun feel fuzzy inside. 

But Cube isn’t giving up that easily. N. Hina attempts a drive to the basket, but Jiwoo follows her closely, successfully blocking her hasty shot. The ball bounces to K. Nayoung, who fakes to shoot, completely catching Jungeun out. The LOONA defence is sent reeling as K. Nayoung skips towards the basket, floating the ball over Jinsol’s outstretched hand and into the hoop. 

“Gah!” Jungeun clicks her tongue in irritation. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay! My fault!” Jiwoo says sheepishly. 

The frustration lingers. If they want to have any chance of cutting the deficit, they can’t afford to allow Cube to score. And there’s only so much Hyunjin can do when the Cube defence is laser-focused on stopping her. Trapped in the corner and surrounded, Hyunjin’s desperate shot hits the edge of the rim. L. Yujeong collects the rebound, and a quick pass to Y. Minnie allows her to shoot the ball over Jungeun and into the basket for three points. 

“I’m sorry!” Hyunjin runs over, voice bleeding with guilt. “I didn’t have anywhere else to-”

“Don't apologise,” Jungeun snaps. She feels her head pound with frustration, exacerbated by Hyunjin’s misplaced guilt. She should’ve been able to block that shot. She should’ve done better.

They struggle to initiate a meaningful attack, as Jinsol turns the ball over and N. Hina dribbles the ball towards LOONA’s basket. Sooyoung surges forward to intercept N. Hina, but she slings the ball into the paint to L. Yujeong, whose contested shot clatters against the rim and back onto the court. Jungeun outjumps Y. Shuhua to snag the rebound. 

“Here!” Jungeun looks up, spotting Hyunjin up the court, waving her arms and calling for the ball. She sends the ball towards Hyunjin, who blasts past Y. Minnie and guns for the corner, shaping up to shoot. N. Hina and L. Yujeong commit to the block, but Hyunjin fakes the shot and passes the ball into space. 

Jungeun grabs the ball, realising that her path to the basket is blocked by Y. Shuhua. She shimmies, fakes, and fires the ball to Sooyoung in the other corner, who drains a three-point shot to cut the deficit. 

The buzzer sounds for half-time. Jungeun storms off the court, not even bothering to look at the scoreboard. They’ve barely made a dent in Cube’s big lead, even against their second unit. Maybe this wouldn’t be an issue if she had started the game instead of Hyeju, but it’s too late now. The damage has already been done. 

Right now, they desperately need solutions, and fast. If not, their provincial qualifying run will almost certainly meet a premature end. 

HALF TIME

Inter-High School National Basketball Championship, Qualifying Phase (Girls Division)

Idalso Province

Round 2

Cube High School 37-28 LOONA High School

KEY PERFORMERS

Cube

L. Juhyeon 10 pts, 5 reb

J. Soyeon 7 pts, 6 ast

H. Chowon 7 pts, 2 blk 

LOONA

K. Hyunjin: 13 pts, 4 ast 

H. Sooyoung: 5 pts, 4 reb

J. Heejin: 3 pts

-

Although Jiwoo is new to competitive team sports, she’s knowledgeable enough to know that their team is staring down the edge of a cliff. A nine-point deficit at halftime is dangerous. It’s demoralising. Worst of all, it significantly reduces their margin for error. If they want to have any chance of winning this game, they cannot afford to make many more mistakes. 

“What the fuck was that?!” Jungeun complains as she flops down next to Jiwoo. 

Jinsol holds out her hand in a placating gesture. “Calm down, Jungeun. We need to-”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Jungeun seethes. “We’re getting fucking destroyed out there, and you want me to calm down?!” 

Jiwoo knows that yelling is definitely not the solution to their problems. She latches onto Jungeun’s arm, pulling gently. “Jungie, stop-”

“Shut up,” Jungeun yanks her arm away, causing Jiwoo to flinch. “We’re gonna get eliminated at this rate, and none of you have anything to say?!” 

“Well?!” Jungeun directs her question to the rest of the room, but she is only greeted by a tense silence. Heejin is still trying to get her breath back. Yerim looks like she’s on the verge of tears. Even Sooyoung, who typically looks so composed and put together, seems completely lost. 

Jiwoo wants to win. She wants to win so badly. For Jungeun. For Heejin. To keep the promise she made to Sooyoung. But Cube has been dominant in the first half, and she doesn’t have the slightest clue of how to stop them. 

“Hyunjin!” Jungeun turns to Hyunjin, who looks back with wide eyes. Jungeun stabs a finger at the rest of the room. “Tell them. Tell them to do something! Aren’t you tired? Don’t you want some help? Don’t you wanna win?!” 

“Well…” Hyunjin looks a little sheepish. “I’ll just… try harder, I guess.” 

“...What the fuck?!” Jungeun stares at Hyunjin incredulously. “Dude, tell them! Tell them to buck the fuck up and do something, anything-”

“Shut up already.” 

Jiwoo casts her gaze towards the other side of the room, where Hyeju slowly rises from her place, her expression defiant. 

“Oh, so you got a better idea?” Jungeun growls.

“You're not solving anything.” 

“Yeah? And maybe we wouldn’t be losing so bad if you knew how to play some fucking defense!” 

Hyeju’s jaw visibly tightens. “Maybe you’d be starting if you weren’t such a piece of shit all the time.” 

Nostrils flaring, Jungeun storms towards Hyeju with murderous intent.  “You fucking take that back right-”

A loud bang reverberates throughout the locker room, making everyone jump. Jiwoo turns to the front of the room, where Coach Haseul has been silent throughout Jungeun’s tirade. Her fist is lodged deep inside one of the locker doors. 

“Ow, ow,” Coach Haseul winces and clutches her hand in pain. “Give- give me one sec,” She turns away to continue massaging her hand. 

“Oh my god! Haseul, are you okay?” Miss Vivi starts fussing over Coach Haseul’s swollen hand, but Coach Haseul sheepishly waves her away. 

“Yeah, I’m good!” Coach Haseul takes one last shaky breath, before she turns back to face the team.  “Alright! That’s enough. All of you. I stayed quiet just now so you could air out your frustrations first. But the break is gonna end soon and we don’t have much time. I need all of you to pull yourselves together. Now.” 

Jiwoo can still feel the anger emanating from Jungeun’s frame as she returns to sit beside her. The atmosphere around the room is supercharged, still shaken by Jungeun’s explosive outburst. But they’re also desperate. To win. For solutions. For a sliver of hope to cling onto. Jiwoo just hopes that Coach Haseul can give them one. 

“We’re turning the ball over too easily. We've got no aggression. Hyunjin is getting swarmed out there, and there’s only so much she can do alone. So I need the rest of you people to stay open and help her out. Use the space that she creates. Capiche?” 

“I’m okay with getting double-teamed for the rest of the game, that’s fine,” Hyunjin speaks quietly. “But a little help would be nice.” 

“There you have it,” Coach Haseul says, her expression turning serious. 

“We have two more quarters, and we’re down nine points. If this were any of my old teams, I would’ve already thrown in the towel. But you-” She points to every single player in the room. “I know you. And I know how much you want this. I know how much this means to all of you. How many people you want to prove wrong.” 

“One hundred percent isn’t enough now. I need two hundred, a thousand. I need everything,” Coach Haseul’s gaze is smoldering, and Jiwoo feels a fire being lit inside of her. “I need you to give me everything. Everything you’ve got left. Can you do that?” 

“Yes, Coach!” The team says in unison. Lacking in volume, but certainly not in determination. 

A fire still burns within them. It’s small. Tiny, even. A barely smoldering ember, struggling to ignite. But it’s there. 

And as long as that fire remains, they can’t give up just yet. 

“Good,” Coach Haseul nods approvingly. “I’m not changing our lineup. Hyunjin, Jiwoo, Sooyoung, Jungeun, Jinsol. You five are starting the third quarter. We’ll change things up when we need to. Everybody good? Okay! Let’s go, let’s go!” 

Sooyoung holds the door open, motioning for the other players to leave the locker room. Jiwoo tries to calm the nerves creeping into her system, as the cheers of Cube’s supporting crowd outside gradually grow louder and louder. 

-

To Jinsol’s surprise, Cube decides to persist with their second unit to start the third quarter. Given their big lead, it’s likely that they want to give their fringe players valuable time on the court. 

Fuelled by desperation, LOONA start the quarter with some lightning-quick plays. Hyunjin maneuvers her way past an astute double team and pulls up for a sweet two-pointer. 

After Jiwoo manages to rush K. Nayoung into a missed shot, Hyunjin lobs the ball over a scattered Cube defense to Jungeun, who lays the ball up to cut the deficit down to five. 

But Y. Shuhua is proving to be a tricky customer. Her smart pass finds L. Yujeong in the paint, who hooks the ball over Jinsol’s desperate reach and into the basket for two. 

Jinsol sucks in a breath through her teeth. If only she was a little faster, she might have been able to contest that shot better. 

Desperate not to let the game slip away from them, Hyunjin quickly brings the ball up the court. Two Cube players breathing down her neck? No problem. Hyunjin powers past them and lasers the ball through a crowd of bodies and straight into Jinsol’s hands. A simple layup brings the deficit down to five. 

“Nice!” Jinsol exclaims to Hyunjin, her palms still stinging. Hyunjin flashes her a shy thumbs up. 

Clearly reeling from Hyunjin’s outstanding play, Cube quickly calls a timeout in an attempt to break momentum. 

“They’re on ropes now!” Yeojin says excitedly. 

“Not so fast, Pipsqueak. Now they’re gonna focus on Hyunjin more than ever before,” Coach Haseul says grimly. “We need to rotate ball handling duties. Jungeun, I’ll be counting on you.”

Jungeun nods curtly. “Got it, Coach.” 

“Good,” Coach Haseul turns to Jiwoo and Jinsol. “Good defence so far, but they’re gonna be coming at us hard now. Don’t let your guard down.” 

“Anything else? Alright! Let’s get some points on the board,” With a quick pat on the shoulder, Coach Haseul sends them back out on the court. 

A shot of hope surges through Jinsol. Things are looking on the up. If they can keep up the pressure and sustain momentum, they’ll catch up in no time. 

Cube also return to the court, and they’ve made some substitutions to wrestle back control of the game. J. Soyeon and Y. Sangah return to the starting lineup. Jinsol gulps at their last remaining change, as her nemesis L. Juhyeon jogs onto the court. 

Jinsol steels her resolve. This won’t be a repeat of the first half. There’s no way she’s going to let L. Juhyeon get the best of her this time. 

Unfortunately, believing that she can stop L. Juhyeon is one thing. Actually stopping her is another thing entirely. 

A lob into the paint by J. Soyeon is picked up by L. Juhyeon. Jinsol does her best, she really does. But L. Juhyeon isn’t being heralded as a future star for nothing. She backs into Jinsol, closer towards the rim, and banks a shot off the backboard and into the net, easy as you like. 

Jiwoo and Jungeun try their best to assist, but J. Soyeon has the entire LOONA team on strings, faking to pass left before laying the ball off to K. Nayoung, who buries an open three-pointer. 

Receiving the ball from another pass by Hyunjin, Jinsol bursts towards the basket, preparing to lay the ball up. But L. Juhyeon chases her down to beat the shot away. 

H. Chowon grabs the rebound and arrows the ball to J. Soyeon. She drives into the paint and drags Jiwoo along with her. But she lays a simple pass back to K. Nayoung, who pulls up and launches another three-point shot into the basket. 

Jinsol can only watch on helplessly as the LOONA team crumbles before her eyes. She can see the frustration, the hopelessness in their weary expressions. They’re tired, demoralised, and utterly defeated. 

“WE WANT MORE! WE WANT MORE!” The fervent cheers of the Cube crowd rock the entire gymnasium. Jinsol wants to dig a hole in the ground and hide. At this rate, they’re going to be eaten alive. 

Coach Haseul has no choice but to call a timeout, but Jinsol fears that it might be too late. They’ve started the quarter well, but Cube has found answers to everything LOONA have thrown their way. 

Down 47-34, and with their opponents firing on all cylinders, it’s going to take an absolute miracle to win this game now.

-

Momentum is a funny thing in sports. 

All it takes is a single miraculous play to cause a tectonic shift in the flow of the game. A three-point shot, a lovely pass, a chase-down block. Not only does it unnerve an opposing team, but it also emboldens one’s own team, giving them the confidence to take the game to their opponents. 

At the moment, momentum is firmly swung against them. Yerim knows this because she saw it unfold before her own eyes. 

“Shit!” Jungeun furiously kicks the edge of the bench, panting heavily from chasing shadows for the past two minutes. 

“We can’t do anything against Juhyeon. She’s guarding the entire rim and dominating the damn paint. I can’t even get close to her,” Jinsol says, looking heavily frustrated with herself. 

“Why don’t we play around her?” Heejin suggests. “If we can’t challenge her at the rim, shouldn’t we try and score points from further out?” 

“No, then we’ll be admitting defeat,” Sooyoung says gravely. “If we don’t challenge her at the rim, it’ll give them even more confidence to attack us. We can’t let that happen.” 

“Then what the hell do we do?!” Jungeun snaps. 

“Quiet!” Coach Haseul says, and she holds out three fingers. “I’m going to give you all three seconds to calm the fuck down. Three…”

“Two…”

“One.” 

“Alright! I need all of you to lock in. Focus,” There’s a wild expression in Coach Haseul’s eyes. Brimming with ideas, energy, and passion, fuelled by sheer desperation and an undying will to win.

“I have a plan. But it’s risky.” 

Jinsol turns to her left and right. Her teammates are looking at Coach Haseul expectantly, hoping for something, anything to give them an edge in this game. 

“We need to adapt. Stretch out their defence. If we can make quick passes to exploit any gaps, we’ll have more opportunities to score, and in turn, we’ll pile the pressure on them and make them commit more mistakes.”

“But how? We can’t expect Hyunjin to send us good passes all the time. She’s already getting swarmed every possession.” Jungeun asks.  

“Plus, Hyunjin’s our best scorer. We need her to be receiving passes, not throwing them,” Jinsol says. 

Coach Haseul nods confidently. “I think I have a solution for that.” 

Slowly, everybody turns to look at Yerim. Her eyes widen, and her blood turns frigidly cold. 

“M-me?” 

-

Thirteen points down, and against one of the top teams in their entire province, first-year rookie Choi Yerim is substituted into the game as LOONA High’s final trump card. 

It’s a big responsibility. One that she isn’t sure she’s capable of carrying. Her jersey hangs off her scrawny shoulders, at least a size too big. It weighs her down like she’s carrying an entire sack of bricks. 

“Yerim!” 

Jolting out of her jumbled thoughts, Yerim turns around to see Yeojin looking up at her. 

“Y-y-y-yes?” Yerim doesn’t even know how to control the uninhibited fear coursing through her right now. 

Yeojin says nothing, just grabs her on either side of the side, and yanks Yerim towards her. 

Yerim squeaks as their foreheads collide, their faces inches apart.

“Just like practice. Okay?” Yeojin says loudly. “If you’re struggling, just look at me. I got you. Okay? Yerim? Can you do that? Hello?” 

“O-okay!” Yerim stutters. She rallies herself, gathering what little courage still exists inside her body. She’s going to need all of it today. 

“Good,” Yeojin nods, and Yerim gulps at the strange sensation of their noses grazing against one another. “Now get out there and show em’.”

The court feels smooth under her sneaker soles as Yerim steps onto it. It feels too large and horribly cramped all at once. She tries to remember all the instructions Coach Haseul fed to her during the timeout, but her mind comes up blank. She doesn’t even know where she’s supposed to be standing. 

Hyunjin carries the ball up the court, and is instantly smothered by J. Soyeon and S. Yuqi. She fires a quick pass to Yerim, who is completely open in space. 

The ball feels strangely unfamiliar in Yerim’s hands. She can feel her heart hammering against her chest. She spots Jungeun calling for the ball, but hesitates for a second too long, her wild pass flying behind Jungeun and out of bounds. 

Yerim hangs her head in shame. Everybody is counting on her, but she has shown nothing to prove that she can be a reliable player. Of the three first years who joined the team, she knows that she’s the most useless of them. Hyeju has raw athleticism. Yeojin has an outstanding ability to nail long-range shots. 

What does she have? She can pass the ball well. Sometimes. Anybody can do that. And right now, when the team needs her skill more than ever, she can’t seem to deliver.

From the turnover, J. Soyeon collects the ball and barrels straight at Yerim, causing her to nearly fall over in fright. J. Soyeon gets past her with ease and skips a pass beyond the three-point line. Yerim can only watch on helplessly, powerless to stop S. Yuqi from unleashing a three-point shot that swishes into the hoop. 

“Yerim!” Yeojin’s voice sounds muffled, like it’s travelling through a body of water to reach her. Disembodied, unfocused. The fear grips her limbs, locking her in place. As much as she tries to fight against it, the terror seizes her like a vice, threatening to envelop her entirely. 

“Stop standing around!” Jungeun yells as she zips past. Yerim lifts her head, realising that her team has turned the ball over again, and that J. Soyeon has arrowed a pass to L. Juhyeon, who is bulldozing towards the basket and looks destined to score. 

This could be the dagger to destroy LOONA hearts, and completely break their spirit. And Yerim, as she always is, feels completely helpless to stop it from happening. 

Her vision begins to blur, painting the world in an uncontrolled chaos of senseless shapes and formless shadows. She can barely make out L. Juhyeon, who leaps towards the basket effortlessly, the ball already leaving her hand- 

Out of nowhere, Sooyoung springs into the air and beats the shot against the backboard.

It’s a small play, admittedly. A block doesn’t score any points. But it prevents the opponent from scoring any too. Like a true captain, Sooyoung was able to pull it off. 

Most importantly, it might just be enough to change the tide. 

Hyunjin grabs the rebound first. She powers through H. Chowon’s lunge and carries the ball up the court. 

“Yerim!” 

The ball flies towards Yerim. She catches it with a startle. 

“Yerim! Yerim!” Lifting her head for a better look, Yerim spots Jungeun barrelling towards the basket, while furiously holding off Y. Sangah. 

“YERIM! HEAD! UP!” 

Like water breaking through a dam, Yeojin’s frantic screams flood her ears. Her vision clears, and she notices how the court is moving in slow motion. She can see everything. Her teammates jostling for position. Rubber tracks from sneaker skids snaking across the floor. Wisps of dust particles, shining in the blinding floodlights of the gymnasium. 

She spots something else; the smallest of gaps, in the space just ahead of Jungeun, beyond the reach of Y. Sangah.

This time, Yerim doesn’t hesitate. Her pass is inch-perfect, zipping across the court and into Jungeun’s alert hands. She soars into the air, twisting under Y. Sangah’s outstretched hand and throwing the ball up for two points. 

“Good shit, Yerim. Good shit!” Hyeju yells from the bench.

“YESSSSSSS!” Yeojin screams hysterically, jumping up and down on the sideline. 

“Nice pass,” Jungeun jogs over and raises her hand for a high-five. Yerim returns it earnestly, a strange feeling tingling in her bones. 

Determined to build on their breakthrough, LOONA sustains the pressure. Hyunjin manages to poke the ball out of J. Soyeon’s hands, and it falls right into Yerim’s path. She chases after the ball, acutely aware of the Cube shirts closing in around her. Heart leaping into her mouth, Yerim frantically tries to think of her next move. 

From the corner of her eye, she spots Sooyoung bursting towards the basket, completely unguarded. Yerim picks the ball up and instinctively throws it forward. Her pass finds Sooyoung with unerring accuracy, allowing her to easily lay the ball into the basket. 

Slowly, imperceptibly, the momentum is beginning to shift. For Yerim, it feels like everything she touches at the moment turns into gold. A quick handoff to Hyunjin gives her teammate enough space to drive towards the basket. Hyunjin bamboozles L. Juhyeon with a fake shot before lobbing the ball into the hoop for another two points. 

Out of desperation, Cube calls for a timeout in an attempt to stem the bleeding. But LOONA High has unfinished business to attend to. 

With Sooyoung and Jungeun sealing off the rim, L. Juhyeon looks hopelessly lost. Hyunjin sprints over and nearly steals the ball out of her hands. In a panic, L. Juhyeon tries to send a clumsy pass back to J. Soyeon. 

Yerim spots it coming from a mile away. Time seems to slow as she races towards the airborne ball. With a sudden burst of speed, she snags the ball right out of J. Soyeon’s reach for a clever steal.

Cube frantically retreats to their basket. LOONA breaks forward on another attack. Yerim turns away from J. Soyeon’s desperate lunge and bounces the ball straight into Jungeun’s path. She outmuscles H. Chowon before ferociously bundling the ball off the backboard and into the basket. 

Cube is really starting to struggle now. And it shows when J. Soyeon is harried off the court by a lively Hyunjin, forcing a turnover and gifting the ball back to LOONA.

Yerim sprints to the sideline, eager to restart the game, determined not to give Cube a moment to regain their bearing. 

She spots Hyunjin in open space and quickly lobs the ball towards her. Hyunjin easily receives it. SHe begins to dance. One, two, three Cube players trail in her wake as she powers towards the basket. The Cube defence collapses into the paint, desperate not to let her score. Hyunjin simply throws the ball to Heejin, who is completely open at the three-point line. She makes no mistake, sinking the ball into the net for three points. 

The quarter buzzer sounds, and the teams return to the sideline. Yerim can still feel the goosebumps riding all over her neck, even after she sits down and gets mobbed by Hyeju and Yeojin. 

“You are a genius!” Yeojin flings her arms around Yerim’s neck and squeezes, causing her to choke.

Cube might still be ahead, but they hold a much more precarious 50-45 lead. LOONA has scored the past eleven points without reply. Momentum has well and truly shifted in LOONA’s favour. The match has now been blown wide open. 

Yerim balls her hand into a determined fist. This game is far from over. Not if she has anything to say about it. 

-

After a tense quarter break, the teams return to the pitch to resume their battle. After exchanging points early on, Cube holds a slender 54-50 lead with about half of the quarter left to play. 

Jiwoo lowers her body, and holds her arm out, mentally preparing herself for another duel against K. Nayoung. It’s been a fairly even match-up so far, and K. Nayoung is proving to be a tricky customer. She’s not as shifty as S. Yuqi or as creative as N. Hina, but she easily holds her own by being an outstanding shooter. Jiwoo can’t afford to give her any space or time on the ball. 

The ball flies into K. Nayoung’s hands, almost catching Jiwoo out. She’s a step ahead this time, however. As K. Nayoung prepares to launch a jump shot, Jiwoo leaps to meet her at the summit. The shot grazes her fingertips and hangs in the air, just begging to be caught. Easily outjumping K. Nayoung, Jiwoo grabs the rebound and turns towards the empty expanse of court in front of her. 

“JIWOO! GO! GO!” 

Spurred on by Sooyoung’s screams from the bench, Jiwoo runs. 

Jiwoo swiftly dribbles the ball as she storms up the court, owing her impressive coordination to years of taekwondo. She looks up to see an imposing wall in the form of L. Juhyeon standing before her. She frantically scans the court, and slips the ball through a gap in the defence, right to Yerim, who has been nothing short of incredible so far. 

Yerim shapes to shoot, but gets obstructed by N. Hina just as she releases the ball. Without hesitation, the referee blows his whistle and points to the free-throw line. 

This is new territory for Yerim. Honestly, this is new territory for all of them. From being down and out against a top team, to going toe-to-toe with them in the short span of two quarters. It’s as exciting as it is terrifying. 

Unfortunately, poor Yerim looks woefully unprepared to take her free throws. She looks tiny in her oversized jersey, as the Cube supporters flooding the stands assault her with a chorus of boos. Jiwoo finds it distasteful, but unfortunately, it’s a reasonable effort by the Cube fans to throw Yerim off her focus. It’s up to her to maintain her composure. 

Yerim’s first free throw is horribly miscued. It clatters off the front of the rim and back into her hands, to the delight of the Cube fans. Jinsol and Jungeun rush to comfort her, providing some much-needed encouragement. 

Turning around to retake her place at the free throw line, Jiwoo takes note of Yerim’s expression. She looks slightly downcast, but there’s a quiet determination that perforates the air around her, a silent declaration. She’s not going to make the same mistake twice. 

“Head up!” She calls out to Yerim, as she receives the ball from the referee and prepares to shoot her next free throw. 

This time, Yerim makes no mistake, executing a perfect free throw to cut the deficit to three. The LOONA bench cheers wildly in celebration. It must be a weird sight to many, seeing a group of high school girls screaming their lungs out over a simple free throw. But it must mean the world to Yerim, who has a giant smile plastered on her face.

“Nice!” Jiwoo and Yerim exchange quick high-fives before resuming their defensive positions. If they can successfully defend Cube’s possession, they’ll have a prime opportunity to score on their next attack. 

Unfortunately, H. Chowon has other ideas. She receives a crisp pass from N. Hina and slaloms to the basket, powering past Jinsol before lobbing the ball over a helpless Yerim and into the hoop for two. 

LOONA looks to respond quickly, desperate not to let this game slip away from them again. Jungeun carries the ball up the court and passes it to Yerim. With Jiwoo blocking N. Hina’s efforts to reach Yerim, she has space and time to pick out a marauding Hyunjin at the back post, who executes a tough shot to keep the score close. 

Without Hyeju on the court to provide adequate rim protection, L. Juhyeon has been enjoying a bit of a hot streak. Barging roughly past a flat-footed Hyunjin, she storms towards an open basket. In a moment of rashness, Jungeun shoves L. Juhyeon as she’s about to shoot, which earns the Cube player a foul call just as the ball dips into the hoop. 

“Fuck!” Jungeun snaps in frustration, the anger in her expression clear for all to see. 

Hyunjin jogs over, looking horribly fatigued. “Sorry about-”

“Stop fucking apologising!” Jungeun shouts, so loudly that Jiwoo flinches in shock. 

“Jungeun! Yerim! Jiwoo!” Turning her head to the sideline, Jiwoo sees Coach Haseul gesticulating wildly. Beside her, Sooyoung, Hyeju, and Heejin are out of their seats, warming up by the sideline. 

With their most explosive players rested, Coach Haseul seems to be attempting another gamble. Well, not that Jiwoo particularly minds. She high-fives her teammates and dutifully takes her seat on the bench. Yerim collapses onto the open spot beside her, looking completely exhausted. 

Jungeun storms back to the bench and unceremoniously plops down onto the other seat beside Jiwoo. She snatches a water bottle out of Chaewon’s hand, gulping down the contents in deep, angry swigs. 

“Jungeun-”

“What?!” Jungeun snarls, crushing the empty water bottle in her hand. 

“N-nothing!”

Jiwoo turns her attention back to the court, watching on in dismay as L. Juhyeon sinks her free throw, bringing Cube’s lead up to six points. She searches out Sooyoung on the court, who quickly pings the ball to Heejin for a snapshot three-pointer, just about managing to keep the score close. 

The game clock is rapidly ticking down. Jiwoo nervously taps her foot, painfully aware that they’re running out of time. 

-

Hyeju tries to stay alert while S. Yuqi runs down the clock. Although she’d like to just swoop in and steal the ball away from Cube, she knows that patience is key in these kinds of situations. Hyunjin expertly diverts S. Yuqi away from the basket, but she passes quickly to J. Soyeon, who pulls up for three just as the shot clock expires. Her shot is wayward, clattering off the rim and falling into Sooyoung’s hands. 

With forty seconds of the game to go, Hyunjin receives the ball and flies up the court. The Cube defence forms a staggered wall, determined to prevent her from attacking the basket. They know that Hyunjin is LOONA's main threat. Stop her, and they’ll win this match. Stifle her options, and LOONA’s offense is as good as dead. 

However, Hyunjin doesn’t pass the ball. She doesn’t dribble it either. She doesn’t try to force her way through a crowd of bodies, something she’s been doing for much of the match. 

To everybody’s shock, she pulls up from halfway across the court, sinking a brilliant three-point shot to stun the entire gymnasium into silence. 

The game is tied 59-59. 

To Hyeju’s amazement, Hyunjin doesn’t even seem particularly bothered. She returns the high-fives of a few ecstatic teammates before jogging back to her position. If Hyeju was the one who made that shot, she’d have gone completely bonkers. She gulps. Kim Hyunjin has ice in her veins. 

Cube slows down the play, clearly content to run down the clock and make a crucial attack when it matters most. S. Yuqi drives to the basket and pulls up from the edge of the paint. Hyeju desperately jumps to contest, but the ball loops over her outstretched hand and nestles into the basket for a critical two-point play. 

“No timeout! Go, go, go!” Coach Haseul urges the team on from the sideline. Ten seconds left. LOONA needs to move fast. Cube swiftly double guard Hyunjin, who twists and turns in an attempt to get free. Hyeju spots Sooyoung running to receive the ball, and she slings it forward. 

Sooyoung takes the ball in stride and scampers up the court, Y. Minnie hot on her heels. With L. Juhyeon guarding the rim, Sooyoung throws the ball to Heejin, who attempts an audacious three-point shot that clatters off the rim and into L. Juhyeon’s hands. 

Hyeju feels her heart sink. That was their chance to score, and they’ve completely blown it. But Hyunjin grabs onto L. Juhyeon, giving away a blatant foul. 

“Nice,” Sooyoung jogs over and gives Hyunjin a high five. Hyeju also does the same. In normal circumstances, giving away a foul essentially means free points for the opponent. In this particular case, Hyunjin’s foul on L. Juhyeon will give her two free throws. If she manages to score both, Cube will have a near unassailable four-point lead. 

However, the game clock is stopped when a foul is called. This means that after L. Juhyeon shoots her free throws, LOONA will gain possession of the ball, giving them the chance to launch one final attack. 

Now, all they need is for L. Juhyeon to miss one, or both of her free throws. 

Taking the pressure in stride, L. Juhyeon cuts a cool figure at the free throw line. She shoots. Scores. Cube is up three points, and their coach calls for a timeout. Hyeju doesn’t really know why. To break the game’s flow? To unnerve LOONA? Whatever it is, Hyeju is feeling pretty fucking nervous right about now. 

The teams return to their respective benches. Coach Haseul picks on a nail as she goes through their strategy. 

“Okay. We’re doing fine. If Juhyeon scores this free throw, then we’ll need four points. Not impossible, but tough. But if she doesn’t score, we need to win that rebound at all costs. Get that rebound, and we’ll call a timeout. Any questions?” 

Hyeju shakes her head. Their objective is clear; pray for a miss, and win the rebound at all costs. 

The timeout ends, and both teams surround the paint on high alert, as L. Juhyeon prepares to shoot her second free throw. With this shot, she can extend Cube’s lead to four points. With less than five seconds of the game to go, there’s virtually no way LOONA can claw back from such a large deficit. 

She shoots. The ball arcs lazily through the air, slapping against the outside of the rim and dropping onto the court. 

The court explodes to life, as a mob of white and purple shirts scrambles for the rebound. Luckily, Hyeju outmuscles H. Chowon and grabs the ball out of the air. 

Coach Haseul frantically calls for a timeout. 

“Here we go! This is it,” Coach Haseul raps her clipboard. “We’re throwing on as many shooters as we can. If Hyunjin is open, give it to her. But she probably won’t be, which also bodes well for us.”

Coach Haseul pauses. “I need all of you to believe that you can score from this shot. We’ve only got one chance, so let’s give it everything we got. Alright! It’s game time. We’ll have Hyunjin, Sooyoung, Heejin, and Pipsqueak, with Yerim throwing the inbound pass. All good?” 

All too soon, the buzzer sounds, signalling the end of LOONA’s final timeout. 

With some final words of encouragement, Hyeju sends Yeojin and Yerim off as they head to their respective positions. Yeojin jogs onto the court, while Yerim heads to the sideline and receives the ball from the referee. 

Hyeju takes her seat on the bench, right next to Chaewon, who is completely focused on the court. She tries to think of something snarky to say, but ultimately decides against it.

Although she’s not on the court, Hyeju can’t seem to stop her hands from shaking. 

There are no two ways about it. If they mess up, there will be no more do-overs. 

This is their very last chance to tie the game.

-

Squeaks emanate from the court floor as players forcefully jostle for position. Yeojin can barely see Yerim through the dense crowd of bodies, but she tries her best to twist away from Y. Shuhua, on the off chance that the ball comes to her and she has to take a shot.

To be honest, Yeojin hasn’t done much in this game. Other than a three-point shot early in the second quarter, she’s been too much of a defensive liability to justify many minutes on the court. 

She doesn’t blame Coach Haseul. She doesn’t blame anyone, really. Such is the nature of the game. For someone as short as Yeojin, the margin for error drops to zero. One wrong move, and your worth to a team plummets. If she was already struggling against MLD, then Cube has been tearing her to complete shreds. 

From her peripheral vision, she spots Hyunjin zipping towards the sideline, loudly calling for the ball, dragging H. Chowon and J. Soyeon along with her.

Time and again, Hyunjin continues to amaze her. She’s got it all. A perfect blend of skill, strength, speed, physique, and athleticism. Don’t get her wrong, Yeojin is so glad that she has Hyunjin as a teammate. But sometimes, she can’t help but feel envious of Hyunjin’s many gifts.

A gap clears amidst the chaos. Yeojin locks eyes with Yerim, who has the ball held above her head, desperately searching for the optimal pass. 

Yerim is smart. The obvious choice to take the final shot is Hyunjin, their best player by a long shot. And Cube seems to know that as well, as the Cube players shuffle nervously to cover off Hyunjin, orbiting around her constantly, preventing her from receiving the ball. 

But Yeojin keeps her gaze focused on Yerim’s eyes. A flick of the pupils. Towards the far corner. And Yeojin immediately knows what Yerim wants to do. 

Hyunjin calls for the ball again, and the Cube defence restructures to cover her. There’s a split second of adjustment; imbalance; of uncertainty. 

It’s all the time Yeojin needs to sprint towards the far corner, as fast as her legs can carry her. 

Like an elite sniper, Yerim arrows the ball towards Yeojin, and the court erupts into a flurry of frantic movement as the ball flies over everyone’s heads, heading straight for the far corner. 

Yeojin almost fumbles the ball as it drops into her hands. A drop of sweat leaks into her eye, the salt burning through her retina. 

She looks up, the basket well in her sight, looking tantalisingly inviting. 

There’s no time to think. Yeojin lets her instincts take over, honed from years of practice ingrained into her muscle memory. She pulls up, the ball leaving her hands just moments before the buzzer rings. 

The entire gymnasium sucks in a nervous breath. Yeojin follows the ball intently, watching as it dips in a perfect arc, hanging in the air momentarily, before nestling into the hoop with a quiet swish. 

It takes a moment for Yeojin to process everything, from the scoreboard adding three points under LOONA’s name, the game clock resetting to four minutes of overtime, to her teammates jumping on her and exclaiming with jubilation. 

They’ve tied the game. Yeojin has tied the game. 

“Holy shit,” Yeojin whispers. Then, she grabs Hyeju’s shoulders and leaps into her arms.

“HOLY SHIT!” 

AFTER REGULATION TIME

Inter-High School National Basketball Championship, Qualifying Phase (Girls Division)

Idalso Province

Round 2

Cube High School 62-62 LOONA High School

-

Haseul tries to calm her ecstatic players, but she still gives them a moment to celebrate. This is a monumental moment for her young team. To fight back from a heavy deficit and tie the game at the buzzer, against an excellent team at that, it’s a feat that few teams can say to have done the same. 

“Settle down, people! Game’s not done,” Haseul calls out, and the team eventually calms down to listen. “For those who don’t know, overtime is four minutes long. Everything carries over, even your fouls. So let’s play hard, but play fair, alright?” 

“Yes, Coach!” The team roars their affirmation. They’re pumped up now, and ready to take the game to Cube. They’ve got the momentum entering into overtime, while Cube will likely be feeling the pressure. It’s never a nice feeling to lose a big lead, especially against a team they’ve probably never even heard of until today. 

Well, if they didn’t know LOONA High School before, they definitely do now. 

“Alright! Any questions? No? Then let’s do this!”

“Huddle in!” Sooyoung says authoritatively. The team puts their hands in the middle of the cramped circle, practically vibrating with bursts of newfound energy. 

“Come on, girls. We dragged these fuckers all the way to overtime, and I am not planning on going home empty-handed! Let’s fucking win this thing!” Jungeun’s voice is hoarse, but the message is all the more harrowing, and all the more effective. 

The team let out a resounding battle cry at Jungeun’s words. This is their chance to win the game, and pull off a veritably stunning upset. And Coach Haseul already knows that they’re going to give it everything they’ve got. 

“Okay, on three. One, two, three!”

“ORBITS FLY!” The players’ cheer reverberates around the gym, louder than the combined grumbling of thousands of Cube supporters, who were probably not expecting something like this to happen at all. 

Hyunjin, Heejin, Jungeun, Sooyoung, and Jinsol will be their team to start overtime. Things are subject to change, but Haseul has talented options on the bench if she needs to use them. 

“Will they be alright?” Vivi asks as she distributes towels to the players on the bench. 

“Hm,” Haseul watches the Cube team intently, sees their uncertain body language, the way they shrink away as Hyunjin drives towards the basket and earns a foul for her efforts. Juxtaposed to her own players, who are raring to go, and playing with confidence. The difference is almost night and day. 

Haseul smiles. “I think they’re gonna be just fine.” 

-

Heejin is so exhausted. 

Sure, she’s been rested for a significant portion of the second half, but she’s not so much physically spent as she is mentally tired. The strain that comes with constantly being on the move and being aware of your surroundings at all times is significant. Against a team as good as Cube High, no less. Heejin knows that she has to raise her game to keep up. 

The overtime period is turning out to be a cagey affair, as both teams trade blows. The score remains even at 66-66, and whichever side breaks the deadlock will be in the driving seat for the closing stages of the game. 

Hyunjin bounces the ball between her hands, facing off against J. Soyeon, who looks completely worn out. Heejin wonders what kind of engine Hyunjin runs on. Come to think of it, she doesn’t remember Hyunjin taking a single break this game. Playing impeccable basketball for more than thirty minutes is already difficult for even seasoned professionals. Just how good is Hyunjin exactly? 

Dipping away from J. Soyeon’s lunge, Hyunjin drives into the paint. The Cube defence collapses onto her, and she whips the ball to Sooyoung, who gets fouled by a clumsy H. Chowon. 

“YES!” The LOONA bench erupts into loud cheers as Sooyoung goes to the free-throw line to take her shots. She misses the first, but knocks down the second. Cube hastily brings the ball up the court, because the game has well and truly shifted in LOONA’s favour, for they lead 66-67. 

Cube is starting to panic. And Heejin knows it. J. Soyeon looks frustrated, while Hyunjin makes it her personal mission to hassle her as much as possible. Out of options, she throws a wayward pass to Y. Sangah that Jungeun manages to knock away. 

The ball tumbles to a patch of open court, coming Heejin’s way. She spots H. Chowon and K. Nayoung rushing towards the ball. Hell, all ten players on the court are converging on the ball, scrambling to be the first one to claim it.

At this moment, tactics, formations, any sense of self-preservation, all of that gets thrown out the window. At this moment, everything boils down to who wants the ball more. 

A burst of power explodes in Heejin’s tired legs, and she doesn’t hesitate. She dives for the ball, crashing into H. Chowon’s frame just as she feels the ridged texture of the ball grazing her hand. Swiping wildly, Heejin watches the ball bobble straight into the onrushing path of Sooyoung. She picks the ball up and makes a mad dash for Cube’s basket, with L. Juhyeon hot on her heels. 

Heejin desperately crawls to her feet, her brain urging her on; to go, to run. Ignoring the protests of her aching legs, Heejin rushes up the court. Her throat burns, and her lungs feel like they’re about to explode, but Heejin continues running, into the acres of open space left behind by a shattered Cube defence. 

She reaches the edge of the three-point line. Sooyoung twists away from L. Juhyeon and flings the ball towards her. Heejin catches the ball in stride, nearly falling over from the momentum. 

Heejin takes a moment to steel her nerves. Carefully, she jumps and throws the ball towards the basket. It spins through the air before nestling into the hoop for three.

Long arms wrap around Heejin’s torso, as Hyunjin gleefully crashes into her, knocking the air out of her lungs. Advantage LOONA. 66-70. 

Cube look completely out of ideas. K. Nayoung tries to score from a contested half-court shot, but it slaps against the backboard. Sooyoung grabs the rebound and passes it to Hyunjin, who is immediately pounced on by Y. Sangah. Hyunjin spins away from the Cube player, and ducks under J. Soyeon’s swinging arm before knocking down a gorgeous three-point shot. Misery for Cube. Jubilation for LOONA, who extend their lead to a staggering seven points. 

Even a last-ditch layup by L. Juhyeon isn’t enough to dampen LOONA’s spirit. With less than ten seconds left on the game clock, their five-point lead is unassailable. 

When the buzzer sounds for the last time, Heejin sinks to her knees, taking a moment to catch her breath. 

They’ve won. A giant smile makes its way to Heejin’s face. They’ve done it. They’re progressing to the next round. 

The magnitude of their achievement doesn’t sink in until Heejin looks up. She sees Sooyoung and Jungeun screaming in excitement, while the first-year trio stream onto the court, Yeojin indiscriminately spraying water at any teammate within range. Jinsol and Jiwoo join in the celebrations, dragging Chaewon along, who even has a tiny smile on her face. Even Coach Haseul and Miss Vivi are holding hands and jumping up and down by the sideline. 

A no-name school, from the most obscure of towns, has rocked up to one of the most prominent schools in the entire province, and defeated them inside their own gymnasium, in front of a crowd of their own supporters. 

Incredible. Heejin realises that they’ve done something absolutely incredible. 

The Cube fans seem caught in two minds on how to respond. Some sections jeer and rain down boos on their defeated team, while others erupt into polite applause, appreciating the game played by both teams, and congratulating LOONA on a stunning victory. 

“Hey,” Heejin looks up. Hyunjin stands before her, panting heavily. Her face is completely red, heavy exhaustion creeping to her drooping eyelids. And yet, a small smile sticks onto her pretty face. Satisfied. Vindicated. “Good game.”

Heejin lets out a relieved laugh. “Back at you.” 

“Thanks,” Hyunjin mumbles shyly. She looks to the sideline, where their teammates are celebrating jubilantly with Coach Haseul and Miss Vivi. 

“Can you stand?” Hyunjin extends her hand.

Heejin smirks. “Shouldn’t you be worried about yourself?” 

“I am,” Hyunjin says tiredly. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out any second.” 

“I can see that,” Heejin takes Hyunjin’s hand, wobbling slightly as she rises to her feet. “Shall we?” 

Hyunjin nods. “Let’s go.” 

Wrapping their arms around each others’ shoulders, Heejin and Hyunjin half-walk, half-limp towards the sideline, chuckling the entire way. 

FINAL RESULT

Inter-High School National Basketball Championship, Qualifying Phase (Girls Division)

Idalso Province

Round 2

Cube High School 68-73 LOONA High School

PLAYER STATS

Cube

LOONA

Chapter Text

Heejin strolls into the gym with a spring in her step. She’s sore all over, still feeling the effects of their last match against Cube. But after a weekend of lazing around and trying but failing to catch up on her homework, she feels more excited for practice than she’s ever been. 

The memory of their surprise victory over Cube still lives fresh in Heejin’s mind. Not many teams can proudly say they went toe-to-toe with the second-best team in their province, let alone defeated them. But LOONA High is now part of a very short list. A win like that is certain to boost morale.

After changing into her gym uniform, Heejin quickly joins her teammates on their tiny single court. The team seems to be in high spirits, chatting and joking with one another as they warm up together. 

“Has anybody seen Chaewon?” Sooyoung asks, realising that she is nowhere to be seen. 

“She’s sick,” Jungeun replies. “Down with the cold since Saturday.” 

“Does she get sick a lot?” Yeojin wonders. 

“I guess? She tends to miss school for a few days every couple months,” Jungeun says. 

“She’s probably having fun playing games at home though, so you don’t have to worry about her!” Jiwoo says cheerfully. 

The entrance to the gym flies open. Coach Haseul strolls in, with Miss Vivi trailing several steps behind. 

“Alright, people! Take a seat, and get comfortable. We’re gonna start our briefing now.” 

The team quickly sits in a semicircle around Coach Haseul and Miss Vivi. 

“We’re finding out the next team we’re gonna be facing, right?” Yeojin whispers to Heejin. 

“I think so,” Heejin whispers back. “Any guess who it might be?” 

Yeojin puffs out her cheeks. “Well, knowing our luck, we’re probably gonna get drawn against Starship Prep or some shit.” 

“Don’t jinx us like that,” Jinsol says nervously. 

Heejin holds her breath. She feels nervous, even though there really isn’t any reason to be. Coach Haseul’s expression is stoic; unreadable, which doesn’t comfort her in the slightest. 

“Good afternoon, people. The next two practice sessions are gonna be very, very important. So stay healthy and stay out of trouble. Got it?” 

“Yes, Coach…” 

“Good,” An ominous smile makes its way onto Coach Haseul’s face. “Alright! I’m not gonna beat around the bush here. We already faced an elite team last match, and that was a pretty wild ride.”

“No kidding,” Jungeun mumbles under her breath. Heejin swallows hard. She has a bad feeling about this. 

“Well, I hope you all got some good rest over the weekend, because we’re gonna be facing another one!”

Coach Haseul’s smile turns slightly crazed. “Our next opponent is gonna be Starship Prep!”

“WHAT?!”

Heejin blinks rapidly. She wonders if the universe is playing some sort of sick prank on them. 

Nervous murmuring breaks out amongst her teammates. Everybody knows about Starship Prep, Idalso province’s premier academic institution. Not to be mistaken for Starship High, its more prestigious sister school, Starship Prep has been a national sporting powerhouse for more than a decade now. Crushing their provincial opposition isn’t so much an expectation as it is a god-given birthright. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Yeojin holds her head in her hands. 

Jungeun sucks in a breath through her teeth. “This shit’s rigged.” 

“Alright, alright, settle down,” Coach Haseul chews on her lower lip. “We all know that this isn’t ideal.” 

“Yeah, no kidding,” Yeojin mutters, yelping when Hyeju elbows her in the ribs. 

“Never make predictions again,” Hyeju says flatly. 

“But there’s nothing we can do about it now. We just have to go out there and play like we always do,” Coach Haseul nods confidently. “It wasn’t easy, but we managed to beat Cube, a team no one expected us to beat. We just gotta do it again.” 

The atmosphere around the team is slightly subdued, but only for a brief moment. Starship Prep will be a tough opponent, there are no two ways about it. Unfortunately, there’s also no way of getting around them. If LOONA High is to progress to the next round, they’ll have to face Starship Prep and defeat them. Easier said than done, but certainly not impossible. After all, with a certain Kim Hyunjin on their team, they should never be counted out of a match. 

When Heejin turns her head, she notices that the blood is completely drained from Hyunjin’s face. 

“Hey,” Hyunjin flinches, turning back to look at her with wide, trembling eyes. “You okay?”

“I’m-” She hesitates. Usually so calm and stoic, Hyunjin seems nothing like herself. 

“I’m… fine. Let’s practice,” Wordlessly, Hyunjin springs to her feet and picks up a basketball. With typically quick steps, she streaks towards the basket at frightening speed. 

Uncharacteristically, her shot is woefully off, clattering the outside of the rim before bouncing away. 

Heejin might not know what happened to Hyunjin while she was in Starship Prep, and what could have prompted her transfer. But whatever went down over there might’ve been more serious than she initially thought. 

And although Hyunjin insists that she’s fine, Heejin knows better than to believe her. 

-

In a world devoid of hope or joy, Chaewon cherishes each sick day like it might be her last. 

She’s been down with a cold since Sunday, and while her fever was too severe to go to school with, it didn’t stop her from going on an intense twelve-hour rankup session. 

Sick days are the best. She can miss school, stay in her room, get her favourite foods delivered to her doorstep, and play video games all day. 

Chaewon wishes she can take more sick days, but her attendance record has been less than stellar, not to mention her unsatisfactory grades. She does just enough to stay under the radar, nothing more, nothing less. 

The doorbell rings. Chaewon grunts in annoyance and pauses her game. She hopes that it isn’t another house visit from the school. She’s actually no longer sick, but if the doctor gave her a medical certificate that lasts until Tuesday, she’s going to make full use of it. 

Chaewon opens the door and is greeted by the sight of Son Hyeju’s stony face. 

“Yo,” Hyeju raises her hand in greeting. 

She blinks once, then slams the door shut. 

Back pressed up against the door, Chaewon’s mind runs wild. What the hell is Hyeju doing here? Why the hell is she doing here? How the hell did she get Chaewon’s address? Has Hyeju come to assassinate her?

Chaewon rushes to the bathroom, and looks at herself in the mirror. As expected, she looks like a homeless person. She quickly combs away the hair obscuring her eyes, brushes down her ratty t-shirt. Not her most presentable look, but it’ll have to do for now. 

Cautiously, she re-opens the front door. Hyeju is still standing outside the doorway, looking slightly confused. 

“Uh…” Hyeju raises the bag she’s holding. “I got you food.” 

“What are you doing here?” Chaewon raises a suspicious eyebrow.

“All your friends were busy today. They paid me to visit you,” Hyeju explains nonchalantly. 

“How much?” If it’s anything less than five dollars, either Hyeju is super cheap, or her friends really don’t value her that much after all. 

Hyeju puffs out her chest proudly.

“Five dollars.” 

Chaewon wrinkles her nose distastefully. “Cheap. You’re all cheap.” 

“Money is money,” Hyeju replies. “Can I come in?” 

Rolling her eyes, Chaewon reluctantly steps aside, allowing Hyeju to squeeze through the doorway. 

“Nice place,” Hyeju lets out a low whistle as she surveys Chaewon’s humble abode. 

“Thanks,” Chaewon hastily clears away the stray wrappers left on the dining table. She promptly points towards the front door. “Now get out.” 

Hyeju tactfully ignores her. “Can I see your room?”

“No,” Chaewon says, but Hyeju pretends not to hear her anyway, and starts strolling down the hallway. 

“Hey! Did you hear me?” With frantic steps, Chaewon chases after her unwelcome guest, who pulls open the door to her room.

“Pardon me… Woah. You’ve got a TV in here. Awesome,” Hyeju looks into her room and nods approvingly. 

Chaewon squeezes into her room, desperately trying to cling to the last semblances of her private life. It seems like no matter how much she pushes away, Son Hyeju always manages to tear down her walls, whether she likes it or not. 

“I’m bored, let’s play on your Switch,” Hyeju saunters over to the dock, pointedly ignoring Chaewon’s murderous glare. 

Ever since their cohesion camp debacle, they haven’t really fought, and Hyeju’s hostility towards her has significantly lessened, reduced to snarky jabs and snappy remarks. It’s still annoying, but it’s nothing that Chaewon can’t handle. 

To tell the truth, she wouldn’t say they’re exactly friends. But she wouldn’t say that they’re enemies either. 

“Here,” Hyeju grunts as she pulls out two controllers, handing one to Chaewon. 

Chaewon thinks for a moment, before taking the controller from Hyeju’s hand. Maybe one game wouldn’t hurt. 

 -

Although Hyeju likes to talk a big game, Chaewon isn’t a top 500-ranked player on Mario Kart for nothing. 

“Again?!” Hyeju yells as her kart crosses the finish line in second place once more. 

“I win,” Chaewon says with a satisfied smile. “You’re really out of your depth.” 

“Shut up,” Hyeju glares at the screen as she sulks. “This game sucks ass. I wanna play something else.” 

“Smash?” Chaewon suggests. 

“No more Smash.”

Chaewon stifles a chuckle. Hyeju is clearly still traumatised from Chaewon’s total domination earlier. “You’re just bad.” 

“Don’t get cocky,” Hyeju warns. “I would’ve beaten you if you weren’t using broken characters.” 

“Wanna bet?” 

“How much?” 

“Five dollars.” Chaewon holds out her hand. 

Scoffing, Hyeju pushes her hand away. “Are you crazy?”

“What’s crazier is that my friends actually paid you to visit me,” Chaewon grumbles. 

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Hyeju pops another fry in her mouth.   

“Did Heejin offer to pay? I know Jungie wouldn’t.”

At the mention of Jungeun’s name, Hyeju’s face darkens considerably. “That witch? No way.” 

“Still beefing, huh?” Chaewon asks. Obviously, the conflict between Hyeju and Jungeun isn’t any of her business. But still, Jungeun is one of her closest friends, and Hyeju is… well, Hyeju is someone she doesn’t hate being around. She’d hate for things to escalate any more than they already have. 

“She’s a fucking bitch,” Hyeju spits out, vitriol dripping from her tone. 

“Look who’s talking,” Chaewon smirks. 

“Very funny,” Hyeju replies, unsmiling. “She’s always glaring at me and yelling during practice and stuff. It’s annoying as fuck.” 

“Sounds like Jungie.”

“What’s her problem? Not my fault I’m starting over her. That’s Coach’s call. The hell do I got to do with it?” Hyeju throws her hands up in frustration. 

Jungeun is a feisty character, there’s no doubt about that. It doesn’t help that Hyeju is too stubborn to back down whenever Jungeun has a bone to pick. They’re like two bulls locking horns in a fine china shop. Loud, rough, and infinitely destructive. 

Chaewon blows air out of her nostrils. She’s really not in the mood to be a mediator, but it seems like she doesn’t really have a choice this time. 

“Don’t let her affect you, okay?” Chaewon chooses her words carefully. “She’s just frustrated at herself for not being a starter. It’s nothing personal.” 

Hyeju looks unconvinced. “Doesn’t mean she has to be a bitch about it.” 

Chaewon shrugs in reply. To be fair, Jungeun hasn’t exactly covered herself in glory by picking a fight with a first-year. 

“Fuck it,” Hyeju blurts out, fire burning in her dark eyes. “If she pisses me off at practice tomorrow, I’m gonna fucking swing on her.” 

“Please don’t do that.”

“Or what?” 

“I’ll stop you.” 

Surprise flashes across Hyeju’s face, before she bursts out laughing. 

“I’d like to see you try!” She then gives Chaewon a pointed look. “But you’re coming to practice tomorrow, right?” 

Chaewon stretches languidly. “Like I have a choice.” 

When Hyeju doesn’t respond, Chaewon sneaks a quick look to her side, nearly flinching when she realises that Hyeju is staring at her silently. 

“W-what?” Chaewon bashfully tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Nothing,” Hyeju turns away, averting her gaze. “You just sound so reluctant.” 

And for good reason. Three times a week, she goes to practice for a sport she doesn’t care about, that she’s not even good at. The fact that she even has to sweat is already upsetting enough. 

“I’m just… not really into basketball, I guess,” Chaewon mumbles.

“Why not quit?” Comes Hyeju’s blunt reply.

If not for Coach Haseul’s coercion and the encouragement of her friends, she would’ve stopped coming to practice a long time ago. 

“People want me to stay,” Chaewon says quietly.  

Hyeju raises an eyebrow. “You should stay because you want to.” 

“It’s fine,” Chaewon waves her away. “I don’t have anything better to do.” 

“What about a passion? Or a hobby?” 

“Like what?” If she’s bad at everything she does, what is there to be passionate about? 

Hyeju shrugs her shoulders. “You’re good at games, right? Maybe something to do with that.” 

Chaewon hums noncommittally. Video games are nothing more than a time sink, something to fill the gaping lack of talent in her frail body. 

“I’m only good because I play a lot,” Chaewon says sheepishly. 

“Give yourself some credit. You managed to beat me in Smash.”

Chaewon can’t resist the urge to roll her eyes. “You’re just bad at Smash.” 

“Fuck off,” Hyeju shoots back, but the edges of her mouth are turned up ever so slightly. “I’m gonna beat you this time.” 

Chaewon can’t do much. Can’t put a ball into a hoop. Can’t draw a dog without it getting mistaken for a car. Hell, she can barely last five minutes in class before falling asleep. 

Absolutely wipe the floor with Son Hyeju in Super Smash Bros? That she can definitely do. 

Picking up her controller, Chaewon shoots Hyeju a sly look. 

“You can try.” 

-

The heavy stack of books weighs down on Jiwoo as she carries them into the staff office. Her turn as the class rep wasn’t for at least another month, but since Heesung is out sick for the week, Mister Suh naturally sought her out to take on interim duties. 

Add that to the growing list of things she promised to do for other people today. She has to help Yewon with homework at lunch break, and Jaeyul still hasn’t returned the twenty dollars he borrowed over a month ago. 

She knows that there’s always the option to say no, but she has a reputation to protect. After all, she is Kim Jiwoo, friend of the world, always willing to help. What else would she be otherwise? 

Stepping out of the staff office, Jiwoo takes a moment to catch her breath. At least she has basketball practice later. That means she gets to spend time with Sooyoung. Just thinking about her is enough to make Jiwoo smile. She’s just glad that Jungeun isn’t around to call her out for being whipped, she’s already got enough on her plate to deal with. 

Unfortunately, it seems like the entire school needs something from her today. She barely walks past the door of the council room before she is stopped by several familiar faces. 

Taeyoung sweeps back his silky bangs as he walks up to Jiwoo. “Well, if it isn’t Kim Jiwoo, former member of the social club,” On either side of him, Yoobin and Heemin snicker

Jiwoo forces herself to smile. “I don’t know what you mean, I’m still a part of the social club!” 

“Are you sure? Because we haven’t seen you in more than a month,” Taeyoung’s tone is playful and lilting, but his face is expressionless. 

“Well… That’s because the basketball team-”

“Oh, of course! Your stupid basketball team,” Taeyoung shakes his head. “Seriously, Jiwoo? How long are you gonna keep pretending to play superstar?” 

“Everyone laughs at you guys,” Heemin points out matter-of-factly. “Aren’t you embarrassed to be playing with them? What are you thinking?” 

“Stop hanging out with those losers already, just come back and hang with us,” Yoobin drawls, eyes never leaving his phone. 

This isn’t fair. They’ve already won two games, one against the second-best team in their entire province. And yet, it still doesn’t seem to be enough to elevate their rock-bottom status. Worse still, her friends in the social club are already starting to get upset by her frequent absences. 

“But we-” Jiwoo starts, but Taeyoung puts up a hand to cut her off. 

“Hey now, I’m not gonna judge you for joining them, okay? That’s your business, and I respect it, I really do!” Taeyoung lowers his voice. “But try to think about your reputation for a second, hm? Don’t ruin it by associating yourself with a bunch of lowlife outcasts.” 

She thinks of Heejin, Jungeun, and Chaewon. The bestest friends anyone could ever ask for. She thinks of Jinsol, who was so excited to show off her collection of gundam figurines. Sweet, little Yerim, who cried when she stepped on a stray cockroach in the locker room. Yeojin and Hyeju, who could probably start up their own comedy show. Even Hyunjin is slowly but surely starting to come out of her shell. 

Jiwoo thinks of Sooyoung. Cool under pressure. Unflappable. Infallible. But deep down, she’s still that same little girl with an impossibly large dream. Jiwoo promised to help her realise that dream. 

Outcasts, losers, laughingstocks. Jiwoo doesn’t agree with any of those labels. The basketball team members are her friends, no matter how much other people want to judge her for it. 

She opens her mouth, itching to set the record straight. But under the searing gazes of Taeyoung and his friends, Jiwoo can’t seem to find her voice, and the words die inside her throat. 

Taeyoung tilts his head mockingly. “Am I wrong, Jiwooming?” 

“N-no! Of course not,” Jiwoo is smiling now, so widely that it hurts. “You’re right. The basketball team… is just a bunch of losers, just like you said! Haha…” The words leave a bitter taste on her tongue. 

“That’s what I’ve been saying all this time!” Taeyoung heartily slaps Jiwoo on the shoulder. “Glad I could make you see sense.” 

“You have a game this week, right?” Heemin asks, and Jiwoo nods hesitantly. 

“Yeah! But knowing how bad we are, we’ll probably lose,” Jiwoo says hesitantly. She doesn’t believe what she’s saying at all. But if her lies are convincing enough, maybe they’ll leave her alone. 

“Great! Then we’ll see you at social club next week, right?” Taeyoung asks, eyes glinting with cunning. 

“You bet!” Jiwoo smiles, but it probably comes out more like a grimace. 

When her social club friends walk away, Jiwoo leans against the door of the council room, heaving a sigh of relief. As far as uncomfortable interactions go, that was definitely up there with one of the worst. 

Is it so wrong to want to play basketball with her friends? What gives Taeyoung the right to dictate who she gets to spend time with? Why does everyone in this rotten school think she owes them all their time and attention? It’s not fair, none of this is-

Jiwoo nearly falls backwards as the door behind her opens. Luckily, a pair of hands manages to catch her in time. 

“Oh! Thank you so m-” Jiwoo turns around, and comes face-to-face with none other than Ha Sooyoung. 

Her heart drops to the pit of her stomach.

“S-Sooyoungie!” Jiwoo stammers, fear piercing through her chest like a knife.

Sooyoung says nothing, her face completely devoid of emotion. But the anger blazing in her eyes is completely unfamiliar. Foreign. Unmistakable. 

Jiwoo swallows hard, but her throat feels drier than a desert. “Sooyoungie, I- This is a-” 

“Move,” Sooyoung shoves Jiwoo aside, storming off down the hallway. She doesn’t even spare a look back. 

In a final desperate move, Jiwoo lurches forward and grabs onto Sooyoung’s wrist. “Sooyoungie! Please listen-”

“Let go,” Sooyoung wrestles free from her grasp. Her voice is low; dangerous. 

She sounds hurt. 

Somehow, she would’ve preferred if Sooyoung had just completely lost her temper. Seeing her like this makes Jiwoo feel a million times worse. 

With one final glare, Sooyoung stalks away. This time, Jiwoo can’t find the strength to stop her. 

Everything hits Jiwoo at once. Anger. At Taeyoung. At Sooyoung. At her weakness. Frustration. For not being able to defend her friends, instead succumbing to the fear of judgement.

The guilt hits her the hardest. She knows she’s hurt Sooyoung, and the worst part is that she knows there is nothing that can be done to rectify it. 

Jiwoo can’t think straight. Her vision starts to blur, frustrated tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. 

-

Chaewon doesn’t think of herself as a particularly perceptive person, but even she can sense the tense atmosphere hanging over Wednesday’s practice session. 

“Where’s Jiwoo?” Chaewon asks Heejin, who is practicing next to her. 

“She couldn’t make it today. Something about a family emergency or something,” Heejin says worriedly. “She sounded like she was crying.” 

An uncomfortable feeling wells up in Chaewon’s gut. She just hopes Jiwoo will be okay. 

“Oh, Sooyoung,” Heejin greets Sooyoung, who just so happened to be walking past. “Jiwoo can’t make it to practice today.

“Oh,” Sooyoung says coldly, her expression guarded. 

“Did she… tell you anything about it?” 

“No,” Comes the snappy reply. It’s uncharacteristic of Sooyoung, who is usually so composed. Something feels off. 

“Are you sure? Because I’m sure she would’ve told you if she wasn’t-”

“I already said. I don’t know. And I don’t care,” Sooyoung cuts Heejin off harshly. 

The uncomfortable feeling in Chaewon’s gut grows. From the incendiary charges being lit in her eyes, to poorly-concealed anger practically emanating from her tensed frame, something definitely went down between Sooyoung and Jiwoo. 

“R-right.” Heejin stammers, watching as Sooyoung storms off without saying goodbye. 

Chaewon and Heejin exchange puzzled looks. Something is definitely off about Sooyoung. And Jiwoo seems to be the cause of it. 

Sooyoung isn’t the only one acting strangely, because Heejin also seems distracted today. She’s constantly tossing worried looks across the court, where Hyunjin and the rest of the team are locked in a scrimmage. 

Chaewon follows the direction of Heejin’s gaze, and ends up looking at Hyunjin. Heejin did mention to her that Hyunjin wasn’t far from her best on Monday, and it seems like her slump has bled into today’s practice well. 

Typically unerringly assured on the ball, Hyunjin looks hesitant, lethargic, unsure. She fumbles a handle and almost gets the ball snatched away by Yerim. She spins wildly, chucking a clumsy shot that hits off the rim. 

Jungeun and Hyeju stand under the post, jostling for the rebound. The ball falls, and they grab it at the same time, wrestling for control. In a moment of rashness, Jungeun roughly slams into Hyeju, sending her crashing to the floor. 

Chaewon grimaces. There is no way this is going to end well. Sure enough, Hyeju leaps to her feet, steam practically pouring out of her ears. 

“What is your FUCKING problem?!” With angry strides, Hyeju barges into Jungeun’s back, causing her to stumble.

“What’s yours?!” Jungeun whips around and grabs the front of Hyeju’s shirt. Tension hangs over the two of them, like a fraying rope pulled taut. It looks like they’re about to come to blows. 

Alarmed by the commotion, Heejin sprints over to separate them, with Chaewon just several steps behind. It takes the combined efforts of the entire team to separate Jungeun and Hyeju, who are still nipping at each other’s throats.

“Maybe if you stopped being a fucking bitch all the time, you’d get to start a match for once!” Hyeju snarls. 

“What makes you think you deserve a chance to start?! Your defence is dogshit, and you don’t even know shit about basketball. Fuck you!” 

Chaewon has never seen Hyeju so angry before; enraged to the point of incoherence. Her eyes burn with resentment and hatred. It’s like she’s a completely different person. 

“Maybe the reason I’m starting is because I’m a better player than you’ll ever be, and you just can’t fucking admit it!” 

The altercation is already catching unwanted attention, as the other teams stop their own practices to check out what’s going on. When it comes to drama, especially drama pertaining to their joke of a basketball team, everybody in the school is just dying to know about it.

Jungeun wrestles furiously against the hold of multiple teammates.  “Fucking… let me go! I’m gonna beat the shit out of this fucking piece of-”

“Yeah, hit me! See where that gets you. No wonder everybody in this school fucking hates you!” Hyeju spits out, and Chaewon can see the murderous intent burning in Jungeun’s eyes. 

A shrill whistle cuts through the scuffle, and Coach Haseul marches in between Hyeju and Jungeun. She looks unimpressed. 

“Jungeun, Hyeju, what the hell is going on?” 

“She started it!” Hyeju fumes, jabbing an accusatory finger at Jungeun, whose lips are curled into an ugly snarl. 

“Oh sure, blame me for everything since you love flaunting how you’re a starter, even though you fucking suck!” 

“Shut the fuck up you-”

“Enough!” Coach Haseul’s booming voice stuns them into silence. She hastily pulls Hyeju and Jungeun aside. “Both of you are valuable members of my team. It doesn’t matter who starts and who doesn’t. This is the first and last time I’m gonna address this. Are we clear?” 

Hyeju and Jungeun exchange side-eyed glares. “Yes, Coach…”

“Good, now get the hell outta my sight.” 

The players quickly disperse into smaller groups, tactfully making sure that Hyeju and Jungeun stay as far away from each other as possible. 

Chaewon follows Heejin back to their part of the court, where they continue their shooting drills. Heejin struggles to get into a groove, clearly still shaken by Hyeju and Jungeun’s earlier scuffle. 

A pregnant silence descends upon the court, punctuated by the sounds of bouncing balls and the swish of basket nets. The atmosphere around the team feels heavy, tense, like a coiled spring itching to be released. From Sooyoung’s unusual behavior, Hyunijn playing uncharacteristically poorly, to Jungeun and Hyeju’s childish spat completely boiling over. Nothing seems to be going right at the moment. 

Chaewon lets out a harsh breath. And to think that she just warned Hyeju about getting into a conflict with Jungeun. Then again, the backhanded insults and ill-meant stares were bound to cause an escalation if left unchecked. A confrontation was inevitable, although the timing couldn’t have been much worse. 

There’s nothing to be done about it now. Chaewon continues her shooting drill. Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, the shots fall into the hoop with surprising ease. 

It’s unlikely that she’ll ever be called into a match, and she’s okay with that. She doesn’t have Jiwoo’s freakish athleticism, or Yerim’s genius passing talents. She just hopes that she won’t let the team down if she ever gets called upon. 

At the end of a hundred shots taken, she calculates thirty-one points scored, smashing her previous record of twenty-four. She should feel happy, satisfied. But in the face of the turmoil currently surrounding the team, her accomplishment rings somewhat hollow. 

-

When Vivi enters the visiting team locker room, she immediately feels weighed down by the heavy tension permeating through the air. Other than the occasional hushed whisper, the team move around in uncomfortable silence. 

Haseul didn’t tell her much, but she got the general gist of it. Hyeju and Jungeun sit on opposite ends of the locker room, as far away from each other as physically possible. She just hopes that they’ll set aside their differences and give their best on the court. She makes a mental note to talk to both of them after the game, just to clear the air and help them reconcile. 

Curiously, she notices Jiwoo’s miserable expression, and her longing glances towards Sooyoung, who goes about her business with a stoic expression. Vivi raises a concerned eyebrow. Sooyoung and Jiwoo are usually inseparable before games. The last thing the team needs is another potential conflict ahead of their most important game of the season. 

She clears her throat, catching the attention of the girls. Haseul instructed her to remind them that the warm-up is starting in less than five minutes. However, something doesn’t feel right. She raises a finger and begins to count. 

Nine. Vivi frowns. Sure enough, somebody is missing. 

“Has anybody seen Hyunjin?”

Chapter Text

Hyunjin never thought she’d be back here again. 

Blue and white tiled flooring swim across her blurry vision. A faulty fluorescent lightbulb flickers and stutters overhead. The cubicle walls close in on her, stifling; choking, suffocating. 

She can’t think straight right now. Her hands are clammy. Her throat feels dry. Her breaths come in stops and starts, heart beating wildly off time. 

It’s a strangely familiar feeling. To be back here, hiding in the same toilet cubicle, as she had for much of her first and only year on the Starship Prep basketball team. It seems that the more things change, the more they stay the same. 

She hasn’t felt like herself this entire week. An uncomfortable sensation lingered in her stomach, from the moment she heard of their next opponents to the second she stumbled off the van into the school parking lot, staring up at the enormous campus she used to call home. 

How did it even come to this? She shouldn’t have let Heejin sway her. Shouldn’t have been convinced by her silly friends to join the basketball team with them. She should’ve just kept her head down, and stayed far away from everyone. She’d live out the rest of her high school life without any further trouble. Boring, sure, but peaceful. 

She’d thought of an infinite number of ways to get out of this match, to not have to make the trip. After all, nothing good will ever come out of returning to the place where everything fell apart. 

But she couldn’t. She knows her teammates need her. They’ve been nothing but kind and accommodating, reigniting her love for a sport that she never wanted to play again. How can she possibly even think of letting them down? 

Hyunjin brings a trembling hand to her face, as she struggles to fight back tears. This can’t be right. Even now, she still struggles to accept the bitter reality. 

Out of all the teams they could have faced, why did it have to be this one? 

She hears the bathroom door fly open. Somebody enters in a frenzied panic, their frantic steps echoing across the vacuous space. 

“Hyunjin?! Are you in here?!” 

Hyunjin’s eyes widen at the unmistakable sound of Heejin’s voice. 

-

“Hyunjin! Are you alright in there?! Say something!” 

Heejin is getting desperate now. They’ve exhausted every other location Hyunjin could possibly be hiding in. This is the only place they haven’t checked. 

She frantically hammers the door of the locked cubicle with her fist. Hyunjin has to be inside. Heejin knows she is. 

“Hyunjin, tell me what’s wrong! Are you feeling unwell? Stomachache?” No response is forthcoming, which only adds to Heejin’s frustrations. “Hyunjin, you need to tell me what’s wrong. Let me help you!”

A muffled whimper passes through the door. 

“Heejin…” 

Heejin nearly falls over in surprise. Hyunjin is definitely in that cubicle. She bangs her fists on the door once more; frantic, frustrated.

“Hyunjin?” She calls out. There’s no response. “You okay in there? The warm-up already started. Why don’t you open the door? Let me help.” 

Heejin is no fool. She’s been observing Hyunjin ever since it was announced that Starship Prep was to be their next opponent. Hyunjin hasn’t been acting like herself all week. Playing horrifically during practice, perpetually wearing a worried expression on her face. Something is bothering her, undoubtedly. And everything seems to point back to Starship Prep. 

“...I can’t.” 

“Hyunjin, it’s okay. Just open the door. Let’s talk.”

“I can’t let you see me like this.”

“Hyunjin…”

Heejin bites her lip, trying to find the words. 

“You don’t have to put up a front around me. It’s okay. And it’s the same thing with sharing about your life or your troubles. You don’t have to tell me, and I’m not asking you to. But I’m here to help you, okay? I don't want you to go through anything alone.” 

The silence is palpable. Heejin rests her forehead on the cubicle door, praying that her words will reach Hyunjin somehow. 

“So, can you please open the door?”

There’s a pregnant pause before Heejin hears a lock click. 

The door swings outwards, revealing a crumpled figure sitting on the toilet cover. Hyunjin looks terrible. Deathly pale face, eyes bloodshot from a clear lack of sleep, a completely defeated expression clings to her face. It looks like she could crumble into dust at any moment. 

“Hyunjin…” Heejin is at a loss for words. She had a feeling that things were bad. But certainly nothing to this degree. “What… what happened to you?” 

“I…” Hyunjin’s voice is thick; crackly, like she could burst into tears without warning. Her eyes dart around wildly, terror bursting through her shaking irises. 

“I can’t stand this place,” Hyunjin whispers.

This is the most Hyunjin has shared about herself since they first met. And Heejin wants to know more. So much more. She wants to know what could have possibly happened in this school to leave her in such a broken mess. 

Unfortunately, Heejin knows that they’re running out of time. The warm-up is going to end soon, and they really need to get going. 

“Can you stand?” Heejin extends her hand to Hyunjin, who takes it, wobbling slightly as she rises to her feet. Heejin is a little shocked by how fragile Hyunjin seems. Will she even be able to play in this game? If she isn’t able to play, do they even have a single hope of winning? 

Heejin pushes the excess thoughts out of her mind. One thing at a time. She’ll get Hyunjin onto the court, and then the rest will take care of itself. 

“Come on, you can do this,” Gripping tightly onto Hyunjin’s hand, Heejin begins leading her out of the bathroom.

She extends a hand towards the door, but it opens before she can reach it. 

A girl stands before them, wearing a sports jacket bearing the insignia of Starship Preparatory Academy.

Beside her, Hyunjin takes a sharp breath. 

The girl blinks, looking at Heejin first, before she turns to Hyunjin, her eyes suddenly glinting with recognition.

“Hyunjin? Is that you?” The girl steps towards Hyunjin, who immediately recoils. “Oh my god, it is you! It’s been so long since we last played together! How’ve you been?”

The girl’s tone is cheery, bright. To the point where it sounds entirely artificial. 

The grip around Heejin’s hand tightens. She can feel Hyunjin’s body shaking uncontrollably. She casts a furtive glance at Hyunjin, alarmed at the way her eyes widen with horror at the sight of the girl before them.

It tells Heejin everything she needs to know. Hyunjin doesn’t consider this girl a friend at all. 

Thinking on her feet, Heejin quickly pushes past the girl, pulling Hyunjin along with her. “We’re in a hurry. Good luck for the game,” She says curtly. Her only objective is to get Hyunjin out of there as quickly as possible. 

“Good luck to you too!” The girl calls out from behind them. “You’re very brave for coming back here, Hyunjin! I’m sure the other girls are just dying to see you again!” 

Jaw clenched tight, Heejin yanks Hyunjin out of the bathroom before slamming the door shut behind them. 

She turns to look at Hyunjin, who is ghostly pale. 

“Hyunjin,” Heejin places a hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder, causing her to flinch. “Are you alright?”

“I-” Hyunjin swallows hard. “I don’t- I don’t think- know- I don’t know if I can do this.” 

“Of course you can,” Heejin insists. Because she has to. Hyunjin is their greatest weapon and their only hope of winning this game. 

But at the sight of her trembling hands and painfully uncomfortable expression, Heejin inevitably fears the worst. 

“Come on,” Heejin takes Hyunjin’s hand and hastily drags her down the tunnel, the light at the end growing brighter and brighter with every step.

The court is already cleared of people by the time they arrive at courtside. Heejin spots the players of both teams huddled around their respective benches. Seems like they’ve missed the warm-up entirely.

Jinsol is the first to spot them. “There you are!” She exclaims as they hurry over to join the rest of the team. “We couldn’t contact either of you for so long. We thought we were gonna have to play without you two!” 

Heejin makes a quick sweep of the team, who all seem visibly relieved at their return. 

“Sorry,” Heejin pants. “I found her in the bathroom. Err… she wasn’t feeling well.” Which is partially true.

“Thank god,” Coach Haseul says. She turns to Hyunjin and playfully smacks her on the shoulder. “Next time, if you’re having toilet troubles, it wouldn’t hurt to text one of us- Woah, you’re super pale. You okay, Hyunjin?” 

Hyunjin looks the furthest possible thing from okay. She seems distracted, distressed. Her eyes dart wildly around the expansive gymnasium, flinching at loud cheers or the sound of clappers, even turning back constantly to look at the Starship Prep squad, who are at the other end of the sideline, engaged in their own huddle. 

This is atypical of Hyunjin, who is usually so calm and collected before matches. This is the girl who doesn’t even take warm-ups seriously. Who never crumbles under pressure. Something is definitely off, and Coach Haseul seems to notice it too. 

“Maybe,” The entire team turns to look at Heejin. She tries to swallow the lump in her throat. “Hyunjin should take a break for a bit? You know, until she feels ready enough to play.”

“Are you serious?” Yeojin asks incredulously.

Coach Haseul holds out a hand, calling for calm. “Heejin is right. I need to assess Hyunjin’s condition first. So that means she won’t be starting this game.” 

A deafening silence descends upon the group. It seems like the team comes to the same conclusion; the rest of them will have to step up in Hyunjin’s enforced absence.

Rapping her trusty clipboard, Coach Haseul brings the group back into focus. “Change of plans. This is how we’re gonna line up to start. Sooyoung at point, Heejin, Jungeun, Hyeju, and Jinsol at the center. Any questions?” 

Heejin shakes her head, keeping a worried eye on Hyunjin, who appears to be in some sort of daze. Miss Vivi directs her to sit on the bench, and places a hand on Hyunjin’s forehead, probably to check on her temperature. She rummages inside one of the many duffel bags they brought along, fishing out a thermometer and a water bottle. Miss Vivi never takes any credit, but she certainly knows how to manage a team.

Without Hyunjin starting the match, their chances of victory will definitely be dealt a serious blow. However, there’s no getting past the fact that she’s in no condition to play right now. They’ll just have to make do somehow.

“Right,” Coach Haseul says, her mouth pulled into a grim line. “Sooyoung, the floor’s yours.”

Sooyoung clears her throat and places her hand in the center of the huddle, prompting the team to follow suit. Something doesn’t feel right. The circle feels a little too small, not helped by the knowledge that there is one missing hand in the middle. 

“We can win,” Sooyoung says, but even she sounds nervous. “On three. One, two, three!”

“Orbits fly!” The cheer is limp; lacking in any sort of fire or belief. Heejin grimaces, feeling her heart clench with discomfort.

A buzzer sounds, signalling that the match is about to start. Heejin kneels in front of Hyunjin, who is holding her head in her hands. Guilt is etched onto every inch of her face. 

“I’m so sor-”

“No,” Heejin grabs onto both of Hyunjin’s wrists. They lock eyes. Heejin can see the fear, the uncertainty, the agony swirling in them, like a raging whirlpool of horrible memories resurfacing in her mind’s eye.

“You just sit tight. Take your time.”

“But-” Hyunjin stammers. “I need to-”

Heejin shakes her head vigorously. “Don’t worry. We’re gonna win.” 

“Heejin-”

“Just you watch.”

Solidifying her resolve, Heejin turns around, jogging onto the court with the rest of her teammates. She watches the Starship Prep players do the same, decked out in their royal blue jersey tops and white shorts. 

Maybe it’s because she was too preoccupied worrying about Hyunjin, but she’s only just noticing the absolutely electric atmosphere pulsating throughout the gym. It’s an even larger gym than Cube's, easily able to hold thousands of people. The rabid cheers of the fans shake the ground beneath Heejin’s feet, causing goosebumps to form all over her neck.

If an entire army of screaming fans wasn’t intimidating enough, the Starship Prep team is an entirely different beast. There’s a certain swagger in the way they carry themselves. Arrogance, though not at all misplaced. This is a team that has played on the biggest stages, against some of the strongest teams in the entire nation. A sports programme whose illustrious history is rivalled by few others.

Starship Prep is a very good team. And the worst part is that they absolutely know it. 

Heejin supposes that she should be afraid. She knows that her teammates definitely are. But for some reason, she doesn’t feel all that nervous. 

The Starship Prep girl from the bathroom earlier is also standing on the court. They lock eyes for a moment. A lopsided smile appears on the girl’s face. Malicious; scornful.

The image of Hyunjin’s terrified expression flashes in her mind, and Heejin is suddenly seized by a lightning rod of determination, dipped in a pool of raging, hot anger. 

Inter-High School National Basketball Championship, Qualifying Phase (Girls Division)

Idalso Province

Round 3

Starship Preparatory Academy vs LOONA High School 

STARTING FIVE (Starship Prep)

C. Sojung (c)

K. Jiyeon

N. Dawon

S. Juyeon

Y. Yeonjung 

STARTING FIVE (LOONA)

H. Sooyoung (c)

J. Jinsol

K. Jungeun

J. Heejin

S. Hyeju 

-

The referee slings the ball into the air. Jinsol manages to tip the ball backwards to Jungeun, who quickly lays it off to Sooyoung.

Sooyoung collects the ball, her eyes instinctively searching for Hyunjin, only to remember that she’s currently sitting on the bench. 

She blinks rapidly, trying to pull herself together. To be honest, she’s also noticed that Hyunjin hasn’t been her usual dominant self this week. Missing easy shots in practice, overhitting passes, fumbling the ball on routine dribbles. It was almost as if she became a completely different person overnight. 

However, they cannot escape from their current reality. Their best player isn’t in a good condition to play, which means it’s up to Sooyoung and her teammates to keep the score close and survive the onslaught, at least until she’s feeling better. 

Sooyoung brings the ball up the court, suppressing a frown when she realises that Starship Prep has formed a wall. It’s not a metaphor. A literal human wall stands between Sooyoung and the basket. No matter how much her teammates attempt to sneak into the paint, the Starship Prep players remain staunch in their defence. 

As the shot clock ticks down, Sooyoung realises that she can’t give the ball to Hyunjin in the hopes that she will bail them out. The ball is in her hands now. She has to be the one to make the decisions. 

Sooyoung passes the ball to Jungeun, who attempts a drive that K. Jiyeon defends expertly. Jungeun throws the ball to Heejin, and she quickly gets off a shot. Unfortunately, it’s off-target, clanging against the rim and dropping into the hands of N. Dawon. 

From the game footage Coach Haseul showed them earlier in the week, it quickly became clear that Starship Prep has a very simple strategy; defend astutely, and attack while the opponent’s defence is still unprepared, relying on the individual brilliance and skill of their players to score points. 

In the second it takes Sooyoung to blink, the ball soars over her head and across the court to Y. Yeonjung, who swiftly bears down on the basket. However, Jungeun catches up to her in the nick of time, forcing Y. Yeonjung to fumble the ball. 

Sooyoung sprints back to pick up the loose ball. She surges forward, determined to catch their opponents on the counter, but falters when she notices that the Starship Prep players are already back in position, forming an impregnable fortress around their own basket. 

Y. Yeonjung is already breathing down her neck the moment she steps anywhere near the three-point line. Sooyoung tries not to get frustrated. This is just a small taste of what Hyunjin has to deal with every single match. 

A shard of doubt stabs into her. Winning this game was already going to be an uphill struggle, even if Hyunjin was out on the court. Are they even capable of winning this game without her? 

Shaking away the apprehension in her system, Sooyoung does what she can. She feints, dips, and dives into the paint, powering past Y. Yeonjung before slinging the ball out to Jungeun. Unfortunately, C. Sojung puts her off just enough to force a miss. 

N. Dawon slings the ball out to K. Jiyeon near the sideline, who immediately flies towards the basket, effortlessly side-stepping Jinsol before laying the ball up. Somehow, the ball hits the back of the rim and flies back onto the court, an incredible stroke of luck.

Jinsol grabs the rebound and passes it to Sooyoung, who takes advantage of Starship Prep’s disorganisation to burst through the wall. Spotting the smallest of gaps in the defence, she knows that she’s only going to get one shot at this. She goes for it, forcing her way through S. Juyeon’s challenge, ferociously battling to reach the rim. She can see the basket in her sights, within reach, all she has to do is-

An elbow nudges against Sooyoung’s back, causing her to lose balance. She crashes to the ground in a heap, as the ball rolls out of bounds. 

It’s a foul, surely. Sooyoung raises her head to look at the referee, but notices that he isn’t even looking in her direction. 

The referee brings the whistle to his lips and makes a signal with his hands. 

“Starship Prep ball.” 

Sooyoung frowns. She opens her mouth to protest, but the referee merely flashes her an uninterested look. Biting her tongue, Sooyoung jogs back to her side of the court, a tick of annoyance pulsating in her temples. 

From the restart, Starship Prep swiftly works its way up the court. A lapse in concentration from Heejin allows N. Dawon time to pick a pass, which she does to devastating effect, lasering the ball into K. Jiyeon in space. She shapes up to shoot, but Hyeju rises to contest. The ball hits the outside of the rim, but the referee blows his whistle, indicating that Hyeju has committed a foul. 

“The hell?” Hyeju mutters, her face set in a deep frown. “That contest was clean.” 

The last thing her teammates need is to begin second-guessing themselves. Sooyoung pats her on the shoulder. “Forget it. Just stay focused.”

She doesn’t mention to Hyeju that she thought the contest was clean as well. 

Swish. Swish. K. Jiyeon easily sinks both of her free throws. After an absolutely breathless start to the game, Starship Prep finally takes the lead, in perhaps the most underwhelming fashion possible. 

“Heads up!” Sooyoung calls out to the rest of her teammates, desperately trying to keep morale up. It’s been a horribly shitty week for everyone on the team. From Hyunjin suddenly forgetting how to play basketball, to the animosity between Hyeju and Jungeun boiling over completely, everything that could have gone wrong, did go wrong. 

She casts a furtive glance at the bench, her eyes eventually landing on Jiwoo. Her head is bowed, pensively picking at her fingers with an uncomfortable expression on her face.

They haven’t spoken a word to each other since Wednesday. Jiwoo didn’t show up to Wednesday’s practice, and Sooyoung hadn’t seen her all of yesterday. It’s almost as though Jiwoo had been making a conscious effort to avoid her. 

Honestly, Sooyoung was surprised that Jiwoo even showed up to the match at all. 

To tell the truth, Sooyoung is angry, shocked that Jiwoo was even capable of saying such hurtful things. It’s bad enough listening to the rest of the school mock them and downplay their achievements, but to hear the same insults from a member of their own team, not least from someone she considered a close companion… 

Sooyoung purses her lips, a bitter taste beginning to invade her taste buds. It was her fault for choosing to be vulnerable to Jiwoo. She should’ve known better. Next time, she’ll think twice before trusting somebody like that again. 

Jungeun receives the ball from the restart. She attempts to drive towards the basket but runs into heavy resistance. Somehow, she manages to slip the ball through a gap to Jinsol, whose lob attempt rattles the rim. Hyeju grabs the rebound and throws it out to Heejin, but despite her best efforts, even she is unable to score.

N. Dawon grabs the loose ball and throws her arm back. The ball flies over the LOONA defence to C. Sojung, who outmuscles Hyeju for an easy layup into the basket. 

“You’re weak as fuck, you know that?” Jungeun snaps at Hyeju, who immediately bristles at the insult. 

Sooyoung quickly gets in between them. “Cool it,” She commands. There’s still a long way to go in the match. They can’t afford to squabble over trivial mistakes. 

LOONA High tries to string together an attack. This time, Sooyoung makes a quick pass out to Heejin in the corner. Her long-range shot is absolute money, sinking into the basket for three crucial points. 

Grabbing the rebound after Y. Yeonjung misses her shot, Hyeju throws the ball to Sooyoung. She takes it in stride, powering into the paint, before stepping back and scoring from an awkward position. 

Her teammates run over to congratulate her. They’ve ridden their luck several times, but against the odds, they’ve taken a slender 5-4 lead over the mighty Starship Prep. 

Fortunately, the Starship Prep players seem to be struggling to hit their shots, as S. Juyeon misses another open layup. Sooyoung gets the rebound and passes the ball forward to Jungeun. A sea of royal blue jerseys blocks her approach, but she powers through, knocking over K. Jiyeon on the way to scoring two points. 

Sooyoung is about to raise her hands in celebration, when the referee abruptly blows for a foul.

The foul is inexplicably called against Jungeun. 

“What the fuck?!” Jungeun fumes at the referee, who lazily waves her away.

“I don’t know, that seemed clean to me,” Heejin says with a frown.

“That Jiyeon bitch is a goddamn flopper,” Hyeju growls.

As Jungeun apparently committed an offensive foul, Starship Prep receives possession of the ball, and the two points that Jungeun had just scored are now rendered null. It’s essentially a get-out-of-jail-free card. 

Starship Prep takes full advantage of their lifeline, as Y. Yeonjung slices through a shattered defence for an easy layup. 

It’s clear that Jungeun is still angry about the referee’s decision earlier, because she makes a boneheaded error, turning the ball over in a dangerous position. However, N. Dawon’s three-pointer misses the basket, handing LOONA another miraculous escape. 

Jinsol collects the rebound and throws a pass out to Jungeun, who takes a rushed jump shot that slams the rim, but Hyeju is there to bundle the ball back into the basket. 

Starship Prep calls a timeout, and Sooyoung breathlessly turns her head to look at the scoreboard. In the blink of an eye, half of the quarter has already elapsed. Even more incredibly, LOONA is holding onto an improbable 7-6 lead. 

The team returns to the sideline, where Coach Haseul is practically beaming. 

“Great work. Really, really good work,” She nods approvingly. “I'd love for you people to take the game to them, but I still have the rest of the game to plan for. Heejin, you can take a break. We’ll bring Jiwoo on for some defensive cover. As for Yerim, you’ll be taking point guard duties, while Jungeun takes a breather." 

“What?!” Jungeun protests. “I don’t wanna rest, I can still keep going-”

“Look, Jungeun. This isn’t your decision to make. You’re an important player, but I need you fresh for the rest of the game.” 

Jungeun still looks unhappy, but just as Coach Haseul said, when she’s on or off the court is not up to her to decide.

The teams return to the court. Starship Prep prepares to restart the match. Sooyoung glances at Jiwoo, who is standing a fair distance away. She looks nervous, which is probably to be expected. 

Suddenly, Jiwoo turns her head. They lock eyes momentarily, before Jiwoo frantically looks away, seeming troubled.

Frustration bubbles inside Sooyoung. If Jiwoo truly believed in their ambitions, she wouldn’t have said all of those horrible things. But if she really meant everything she said, why would she still be willing to play for the team? 

Sooyoung comes to the realisation that she doesn’t really understand Jiwoo after all. 

-

Q1 - 4:21

Starship Prep 6-7 LOONA High 

Starship Prep 5

SF K. Jiyeon
PF N. Dawon
C   C. Sojung
SG K. Hyunjung
PG L. Yeoreum

LOONA 5

SF H. Sooyoung
PF S. Hyeju
C   J. Jinsol
SG K. Jiwoo
PG C. Yerim 

Yerim takes a shaky breath, trying to tune out the raucous cheers of the crowd. In their previous matches, she was only brought on in the second half. Now, she’s standing on the court a lot earlier than she initially anticipated. 

This means that Coach Haseul trusts her. Not to mention her teammates, who are relying on her playmaking abilities. She doesn’t want to let anybody down. She simply cannot afford to mess up. 

Unfortunately, Starship Prep isn’t here to play around. Their players are well-drilled, not to mention highly skilled, moving about in strange patterns that Yerim cannot even begin to process. N. Dawon slips the ball through a gap to the marauding L. Yeoreum, who lays the ball up to snatch the lead. 

Desperate to make things right, Yerim quickly throws a pass to Hyeju, cringing when she realises that she’s put way too much power into the pass. Sure enough, the ball smacks off Hyeju’s hands and bounces away. Snatching the loose ball, K. Jiyeon sprints the length of the court and executes a skillful layup, extending the lead for Starship Prep.

Remembering what Yeojin taught her during the match against Cube, Yerim keeps her head up, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down. It’s going to take more than this to break her spirit. 

From the restart, Yerim manipulates the angle and throws a pass to Sooyoung, who easily scores at the rim for two points. 

Starship Prep surges forward on the attack, but Jiwoo is resolute and forces a clumsy shot from K. Jiyeon. The rebound is claimed by Jinsol. She passes the ball to Sooyoung, who manages to find Yerim in the corner. 

Time seems to slow, as Yerim tries to determine all of her options. Jinsol is running into the paint, but she is defended by C. Sojung. Sooyoung is being tracked by L. Yeoreum. Jungeun is too far away from the basket to be an effective threat. No offence to Jiwoo, but Yerim knows that she can’t shoot to save her life. 

That leaves a shot as the only option. Yerim leaps into the air, letting the ball fly. It soars through the air before dropping against the back of the rim. 

Starship Prep instantly turns defence into attack, with N. Dawon pulling all the strings. She brings the ball up the court, sliding away from Jungeun’s reckless lunge and steamrolling towards the basket. Hyeju clumsily barges into her as the ball leaves her hand. The referee blows for a foul just as the ball slips into the basket, giving N. Dawon a three-point opportunity.

“Sorry…” Yerim says to Hyeju, who simply huffs with irritation. She gets subbed off for Jungeun shortly afterwards. 

Standing at the free throw line, N. Dawon cuts a cool figure. She shoots, the ball kissing the rim before slipping into the basket. Starship Prep begins to pull away, the score now sitting at 13-9.

Not if Yerim has anything to say about it. From one corner of the court, she arrows a quick pass to Jungeun at the other corner. Before the Starship Prep defence can rotate, Jungeun swiftly pulls up for three. It sinks into the basket with a satisfying swish. 

As L. Yeoreum clangs a snapshot off the rim, Jiwoo gets to the rebound first. Yerim takes the ball in her hands, scanning the court for an opening; an opportunity. She spots Sooyoung running towards the basket, with nobody in front of her. Yerim lobs the ball high and long. The pass is inch-perfect, falling into Sooyoung’s path as she explodes into the paint to score. 

LOONA High takes the lead once again, and things would get even better just moments later, as Jungeun intercepts a clumsy pass from K. Jiyeon. She whips an instinctive pass up the court to Jinsol, who powers past K. Hyunjung for a layup. 

Losing the lead and going behind seems to ignite a fire in the Starship Prep players, as they attack with vigour on their next possession. Jiwoo has no choice but to foul C. Sojung before she makes the shot. C. Sojung scores both free throws to cut the deficit to one point. 

With the clock rapidly winding down, Yerim tries to catch Starship Prep unawares with a long pass to Jinsol. Just as she’s about to attempt a shot, K. Jiyeon bumps into Jinsol, causing her to crash to the ground.

“Ref!” Yerim hears Jungeun squawking. However, the referee merely watches as K. Jiyeon surges up the court, barrelling straight towards Yerim. 

Lowering her body, just like Coach Haseul had trained her to do, Yerim tries to follow K. Jiyeon’s shifty movements. However, K. Jiyeon sticks out an elbow and pulls back, jabbing Yerim hard in the ribs. 

Yerim feels the breath being knocked out of her lungs. She falls to the ground, wincing as the pain spreads across her chest. She barely registers K. Jiyeon passing the ball back to K. Hyunjung, who successfully knocks down a three to put Starship Prep into the lead once more.

“Ref! Offensive foul!”

“What’s going on?!” 

She spots Sooyoung and Jungeun hounding the referee, furiously demanding answers for the decision not to penalise K. Jiyeon for such blatant misconduct. 

The referee takes one look at Yerim before he walks away. “Accidental contact,” He calls over his shoulder. 

“That fucking-” Jungeun cuts herself off. She clenches a fist. 

“You okay, Yerim?” Jinsol extends a hand, which Yerim takes gratefully. She still feels a little wobbly, and the pain has yet to subside. 

With barely any time left, Sooyoung flings the ball across the court for a long-range shot. It bounces harmlessly aside as the buzzer rings to signal the end of a thrilling first quarter. 

Yerim grimaces as she rubs her stinging ribs. Starship Prep plays hard, not to mention rough. Really rough. The worst part is that they’re somehow getting away with it. 

“Good work, people,” Coach Haseul brings them into the circle. “I like what I’m seeing out there. A lot of fight, a lot of grit. We need to keep the same energy out there for the rest of the game.”

“Coach, the ref is-”

“Yes, Jungeun, I know,” Coach Haseul says grimly. “He’s being way too lenient on Starship Prep. Not only are we not getting any fouls, but we’re also giving away a lot of soft ones. Don’t allow yourselves to get bullied, okay? Don’t shrink away. Stand up for yourselves. Just try not to get riled up by Starship Prep. Capiche?”

“Yes, Coach!” The team affirms with confidence. This match hasn’t been the blowout many were expecting. Of course, they’ve been helped by some poor shooting by Starship Prep, but it’s been more than balanced out by the referee’s strange decisions that always seem to be going against them. 

It’s still very slim, but they might actually have a chance of winning this game. 

“Alright, anything else to add?”

“Um.”

The entire team turns to look at Hyunjin, who slowly rises from her place on the bench. She still looks horribly uncomfortable. Pale skin, cracked lips, bloodshot eyes. But a silent determination emanates from her straightened posture. 

“Sub me into the team. I’m ready to play.”

-

Q2 - 8:00

Starship Prep 18-16 LOONA High

Starship Prep 5

SF K. Jiyeon 

PF N. Dawon 

C   S. Juyeon 

SG K. Hyunjung 

PG Y. Yeonjung 

LOONA 5

SF K. Jungeun

PF H. Sooyoung

C   J. Jinsol

SG J. Heejin

PG K. Hyunjin 

Just mere moments after declaring herself available to play, Hyunjin already regrets her decision. 

She doesn’t know what came over her, what compelled her to say that she was ready. Maybe she felt guilty for missing the entire first quarter, or she had some warped sense of obligation to be out there on the court, because she knows that her teammates are counting on her to deliver. 

Whatever her reasons were, Hyunjin feels anything but ready to play.

Even while she was on the bench, she could feel hundreds of eyes on her. From the corner of her eye, she spotted the Starship Prep bench players looking her way, gossiping animatedly among themselves. It doesn’t help that the front rows are filled with former classmates and graduated seniors, and it seems like they all have something to say about Hyunjin. 

Whispers are soft on their own, but when amplified by hundreds of people whispering the same things, they quickly turn into deafening screams, pounding Hyunjin’s ears with unnecessary noise. 

Fallen prodigy.

Overhyped. 

A failure. 

She was already expecting something like this to happen, but not with this much intensity, and certainly not with this much vitriol. 

A chorus of boos rains down on her as she steps foot onto the court. After years of single-handedly destroying teams and having their supporters’ hatred piled solely onto her, the jeers hardly affected her anymore. Until now.

Things are different this time. She tries her best to tune out the booing, but they still manage to sneak through the cracks in her walls. She can’t focus. Everything feels horribly wrong. 

“Hey,” Hyunjin jumps. She whirls around to see Juyeon looking at her scornfully. “Feels like first year all over again, huh?” 

Hyunjin reflexively tightens her jaw. She refuses to show any weakness, although her entire body is screaming at her to get out of this hellhole and never return. 

Starship Prep restarts the match, as Yeonjung brings the ball up and faces off against Hyunjin. 

She remembers Yeonjung. They went for the team trials together, as naive first-years who didn’t know any better. Both of them successfully got into the team, but Hyunjin was the only first-year to make the competition squad. Yeonjung possessed promise, but her skills were unrefined. 

One year on, and Yeonjung has truly come into her own. She feints and zips past Hyunjin, who is completely blindsided by her explosive speed. She can only watch as Yeonjung slips the ball to Juyeon, who scores with a simple layup. 

It’s fine. Starship Prep only has a four point lead. They’ve managed to claw themselves out of more dire situations before. They just have to do it again. 

The ball comes to Hyunjin, and the gym erupts into mocking jeers which crash into her like a twenty-tonne truck. She stumbles, giving Jiyeon the chance to sneak up on her and steal the ball away. 

“Wha-” Hyunjin whirls around, desperate to give chase, but her shoe slides against the slick hardwood floor, destroying her sense of balance. 

Hyunjin watches on, helpless to stop Jiyeon from throwing the ball out to Hyunjung. The third year is famous for her excellent long-range shooting, and she makes no mistake, sinking the ball into the hoop to pull Starship Prep even further ahead. 

This was a mistake. She should have stayed on the bench, and insisted that she still wasn’t ready to play. 

A hand grabs onto her wrist, tugging her forward. 

“Come on!” Heejin calls back, letting go of her wrist as she sprints to her offensive position. Hyunjin has never seen her so energetic and driven before. 

Receiving the ball from Jungeun, she puts her head down and goes to work, shooting past Yeonjung and Dawon before leaping to get a shot off. The ball leaves her hands just as Jiyeon slams into her side, causing Hyunjin to fall awkwardly. The referee whistles for a foul, gifting Hyunjin two free throw attempts.

“I am so sorry!” Without warning, Jiyeon roughly grabs both of Hyunjin’s arms and yanks her to a standing position. Hyunjin winces as Jiyeon’s sharp nails dig into her skin, leaving painful trail marks running down her arms. She leans in, her hot breath tickling Hyunjin’s ear. 

“Welcome back.” 

With one final smile, Jiyeon turns and walks away. 

It takes a moment for Hyunjin to regain her composure, but standing at the free throw line, with the ball in her hands, she can’t seem to regain her rhythm. Hell, she’s been playing so badly that she doesn’t even have a rhythm to regain in the first place.

All around her, the gym erupts into haunting boos, as they try their damnest to make Hyunjin lose her focus. The combined vitriol of thousands of people cuts deep into Hyunjin’s psyche, and her vision starts to blur. 

She shoots, instantly knowing that her shot is off. Sure enough, it clangs off the rim, to the delight of the crowd. 

Receiving the ball for her second free throw, Hyunjin takes a shaky breath. She tries to reset, tune out the jeers. It doesn’t work. Her shot is horribly miscued, slapping the side of the rim and falling into Dawon’s arms. 

Even when she was just a second year, Dawon has been crucial to the way Starship Prep plays. Hyunjin was herself the beneficiary from many of Dawon’s accurate passes for much of last season. 

This match is no different. Dawon launches the ball high and long to Juyeon, who muscles past Jinsol and floats the ball into the basket. Starship Prep leads 25-16. 

She can feel the intent gazes of her teammates piercing into her. Hyunjin knows that they are confused, possibly worried by her uncharacteristically poor performance. As for her former teammates, their eyes shine with an unbridled delight, clearly enjoying watching her struggle. 

Sooyoung decides to take matters into her own hands, scoring two points to somewhat reduce the deficit. Hyunjung fumbles an errant pass, and Jungeun nips in to snag it away. She rushes up the court, but her path to the rim is blocked by Juyeon. She slips the ball to Hyunjin, who is immediately swarmed by a horde of royal blue shirts. 

Panic strikes deep into Hyunjin’s heart. She recklessly goes for a shot, which clatters the rim and comes back out to Jiyeon. She slips past Hyunjin’s desperate lunge, arrowing the ball through a dismantled LOONA defence to Yeonjung for an easy finish. 

“Come on, Hyunjin,” Jiyeon bumps into her, wearing a mocking grin on her face. “Do something already!” 

Hyunjin doesn’t reply, but there was no way she was going to take this disrespect lying down. She receives the ball from the restart and drives straight towards Jiyeon , who is completely unprepared for Hyunjin’s sudden burst of aggression. She shoots past Jiyeon, lobbing the ball against the backboard and dropping it into the basket for her first points of the game. 

Hyunjin supposes that she should be happy. But it brings her little comfort, especially when she’s the reason they’re seven points down in the first place. 

Dawon brings the ball up the court. Hyunjin knows better than to predict her next move. Dawon’s eyes are constantly moving, processing information, calculating the most optimal move to score. Although she tends to get outshone by explosive scorers like Yeonjung and Jiyeon, anyone who has played alongside or against her before knows that she is the heartbeat of the Starship Prep team. 

After several seconds of stillness, Dawon explodes into life, faking to pass before bursting into the paint, catching Hyunjin completely off guard. In a moment of rashness, she grabs Dawon’s arm to stop her advance to the rim. It doesn’t fly with the referee, who whistles for a foul. 

Hyunjin puts her hands on her knees. She’s barely played, but she already feels exhausted. Honestly, she couldn’t have performed much worse if she tried. 

“Hyunjin, um…” She looks up. Heejin is looking at her worriedly. Her finger is pointed towards the sideline, where Hyeju is standing. She’s holding Hyunjin’s jersey number in her hand. 

A substitution. Hyunjin is getting substituted from the game. 

With heavy steps, she trudges towards the LOONA bench. It’s like the entire gymnasium’s eyes are on her now. Gloating, mocking, it’s a silent declaration. She shouldn’t have come back here. 

She can only watch on helplessly as Dawon scores both of her free throws, awarded off a foul Hyunjin committed.

She looks down at her trembling hands. Other than causing everyone worry with her disappearing act and dropping the worst performance of her entire life, what has she even done today? 

Hyunjin hides her face in her hands, wishing to disappear. 

- 

Q2 - 3:41

Starship Prep 29-20 LOONA High 

Starship Prep 5

SF K. Jiyeon
PF N. Dawon
C   S. Juyeon
SG K. Hyunjung
PG Y. Yeonjung

LOONA 5

SF K. Jungeun
PF S. Hyeju
C   J. Jinsol
SG J. Heejin
PG H. Sooyoung

Without Hyunjin on the court, the Starship Prep defence now begins turning their attention towards Jinsol. 

It’s not like they should be concerned, though. Jinsol hardly considers herself a threat on offense. She’s rather short for a center, and requires good passes to score points. Don’t even get her started on her three-point shooting, which is downright atrocious. 

But when she receives the ball outside the three-point line, and the Starship Prep defence blocks off her teammates from being able to receive passes, Jinsol comes to the realisation that she isn’t being targeted because she is a threat. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

Hesitantly, she lets the ball fly, grimacing when it rattles the outside of the rim. However, Hyeju grabs the rebound first and passes the ball back out to Jinsol. Unfortunately, the Starship Prep defence reverts back to their previous formation, and once again, Jinsol is completely out of options. 

“Jinsol!” Lifting her head, she spots Heejin busting a gut to reach her, but she’s being closely tailed by the pesky K. Hyunjung. Jinsol hands the ball to Heejin and blocks Hyunjung off the angle. Heejin arches a gorgeous three-point shot that slides into the basket, slicing the deficit to six. 

Unfortunately, Y. Yeonjung seems hell-bent on breaking any sort of momentum by LOONA. She fakes, barrelling through Jinsol before throwing the ball out to K. Hyunjung in the corner. Her three-point shot is automatic, dropping into the hoop with aplomb. 

Coach Haseul frantically calls for a timeout, and Jinsol figures that it’s about time. If they don’t figure something out soon, things are going to get really, really ugly. 

-

As the players gather into a tight circle, two things come to Haseul’s mind. 

One, she should’ve called for a timeout much, much earlier. 

Two, they’re in super deep shit. 

She casts a furtive glance at Hyunjin. Her head is bowed, eyes glued to the floor. She’s probably beating herself up over her poor performance just now. 

Haseul contemplated substituting her sooner, but a part of her hoped that Hyunjin would eventually adapt to the intensity of the game. Unfortunately, it was a risky gamble that ultimately backfired. Now, Hyunjin’s confidence is totally shot. Haseul worries that she might not be able to return to the court for the rest of the match. 

Starship Prep has figured out how to defend their attacks. Without a good passer like Yerim or Hyunjin on the court, they’ve become way too predictable, which means Starship Prep can keep diverting passes to poor shooters such as Jinsol and completely shut down their offence. 

A thousand permutations cross her mind, forcing her brain to work on overdrive. She can’t put Yerim on the court right now. She’s a weak defender, and although she can mitigate this by subbing Jiwoo on, it just means that they’ll lose significant attacking thrust, due to Jiwoo's poor offensive abilities. 

Frustration creeps into Haseul’s jaw. Her players are either mentally exhausted, too inexperienced, or they’re only good at one very specific facet of the game. She realises just how much this team has been relying on Hyunjin’s individual brilliance. Any time she isn’t on the court, or whenever she’s having a rough game, the team inevitably starts to struggle. 

No plan is foolproof. Haseul understands that. But it feels like any strategy she comes up with is riddled with too many holes. Sometimes, she gets the impression that she’s actually completely clueless as to how to coach a basketball team. 

No. Haseul takes a deep breath. The team is counting on her. She can’t afford to lose her composure right now. 

She can feel the players’ eyes on her, attentively awaiting her instructions. They might not be the most skillful team around, but they more than make up for it with grit, effort, and a whole lot of heart. 

Determination, when combined with a very specific blend of luck and skill, can sometimes result in miracles. 

Haseul steels her resolve. Nobody is expecting them to beat Starship Prep anyway, which is exactly why this game is theirs to win. 

“Alright, listen up! We’re gonna make a few changes to the lineup. Jinsol will be coming off, Pipsqueak will be coming in. Sooyoung, you’ll be playing power forward. Hyeju, center. We’ll play with a little more speed and urgency, and let’s try to be more direct with our shooting.”

She places a firm hand on Pipsqueak’s shoulder, who looks back at her with fiery eyes. 

“You’re playing point guard. I’m leaving the playmaking duties to you. As for defence, Sooyoung, Jungeun, and Hyeju will back you up as much as they can. But I need you to match up against their point guard, and I need you to give her a hell of a difficult time. Can you do that?” 

Pipsqueak raises her arm in a mock salute. “Aye, Coach!” 

“Good,” Haseul nods approvingly. The buzzer rings, signalling the end of the timeout. Her players seem suitably convinced, ready to do battle. Haseul lightly pushes Pipsqueak onto the court, and she shoots forward like a mini cannonball. 

“Give ‘em hell.” 

-

Q2 - 2:12

Starship Prep 32-23 LOONA High

Starship Prep 5

SF L. Yeoreum
PF C. Sojung
C   S. Juyeon
SG L. Dayoung
PG L. Luda

LOONA 5

SF K. Jungeun
PF H. Sooyoung
C   S. Hyeju
SG J. Heejin
PG I. Yeojin

Haseul stands on the edge of the sideline, intently watching the action on the court. Although she is allowed to sit down, standing up makes her feel closer to the action, allowing her to make better decisions on the fly. 

Coaching is a fine balancing act, coming with its own unique set of challenges. From practice and conditioning, to building up team chemistry and dealing with the players’ individual problems, it certainly isn’t a job for the faint of heart. 

Personally, Haseul believes that matches are the best and the worst parts of being a coach. The satisfaction of seeing the players translate what they learned in practice to the court is almost unmatched. 

Sports teams live and die by the decisions of their coach. Haseul finds that power thrilling, and she’ll always do her utmost to wield it responsibly. However, it is way easier to make a wrong decision than it is to make the right one. And by the time a coach realises their mistake, the game might well have already gotten away from them. 

If the past two matches are anything to go by, playing Pipsqueak in such an important match is undoubtedly a risk. Her small stature proves to be a detriment on both offence and defence. However, Haseul wouldn’t be playing her if she didn’t have anything to offer. 

Pipsqueak may be short, but she is deceptively quick. Along with a strong handle and shifty footwork, she might be the secret weapon they’ve been crying out for all this time. 

Since her thrilling game-tying shot against Cube last week, Pipsqueak has been riding a wave of confidence, putting up extremely impressive performances during training. It’s clear that she’s itching for another chance to stand on the court. Her self-confidence is stored inside explosive barrels of oil, just begging to be ignited.

All Haseul has to do is light the match. 

The results are nearly instantaneous, but even Haseul is surprised by how good Pipsqueak really is. She jabs left, then right, leaving C. Sojung for dead as she drains a gorgeous three-point shot. 

Haseul pumps her fist in delight. 

Starship Prep tries to attack, but L. Luda seems a little hesitant with her dribble. Pipsqueak immediately pounces, fiercely attacking L. Luda and swatting the ball out of her hands. Jungeun latches onto the loose ball, and she slings a pass to Sooyoung, who knocks down another three-pointer. 

The Starship Prep coach calls for a timeout. In the blink of an eye, LOONA has clawed its way back into the fight. 

A jumbled mess of thoughts overlaps as Haseul analyses the situation. Their strategy is working well so far, but Pipsqueak has yet to be tested by Starship Prep’s better guards. Regardless, she’s been absolutely superb and fully deserves to play out the rest of the quarter. 

Jungeun and Hyeju are on opposite sides of the bench, clearly facing away from each other. Their scuffle on Wednesday was certainly upsetting. Haseul partly blames herself for not noticing earlier. But as long as they aren’t fighting in the middle of the match, she supposes that things are fine for now. 

Hyunjin sits on the bench, her eyes squeezed shut. Hopefully, they’ll make it to half-time with a somewhat respectable scoreline, then Haseul can figure out a way to snap her out of her funk. 

She checks the score again. Starship Prep only has a slight three-point advantage. If they successfully defend their next possession, they’ll have an excellent opportunity to counterattack. 

It’s a risk, but in a game of such fine margins, it could well be worth it. 

The buzzer sounds. Haseul makes a change. Heejin goes to the bench, while Yerim takes to the court. She’s already made a couple of excellent assists during her cameo in the first quarter. Having her on the court will add a new dimension to their attack. 

This could be their chance to seize control of the match. Haseul rubs her chin nervously, praying that her decision will pay off. 

-

Q2 - 1:26

Starship Prep 32-29 LOONA High 

Starship Prep 5

SF C. Sojung
PF N. Dawon
C   S. Juyeon
SG K. Jiyeon
PG Y. Yeonjung

LOONA 5

SF K. Jungeun
PF H. Sooyoung
C   S. Hyeju
SG I. Yeojin
PG C. Yerim

Starship Prep gets the match restarted, as Y. Yeonjung brings the ball up the court. Pipsqueak determinedly steps out to meet her. Haseul holds her breath as Y. Yeonjung begins to dance, pulling out an entire bag of tricky dribbles. 

However, Pipsqueak more than holds her own, completely locking Y. Yeonjung down, and forcing her to shoot a difficult shot that clangs the rim. Sooyoung collects the rebound and throws a quick pass to Yerim. She spins, launching the ball to Jungeun, who ferociously powers her past two defenders and bears down on the basket, where Hyeju is jostling for position against the combative S. Juyeon. 

S. Juyeon knocks into Hyeju’s shoulder, causing her to stumble straight into Jungeun’s path, but Jungeun can’t stop herself in time. She collides with Hyeju head-on, the momentum sending them flying backwards.

Haseul grimly watches as the ball bobbles out of bounds. 

While their attack might well be over, Jungeun and Hyeju clearly still aren’t. 

“You fucking idiot!” Jungeun yells as she grabs the front of Hyeju’s jersey. Hyeju squirms under her hold. “Get off!” 

Sooyoung and Pipsqueak rush to pull them apart. And Haseul suddenly has a critical decision to make. 

“Jiwoo, Heejin, take Yerim and Jungeun’s numbers.”

Jiwoo hesitates. “Coach, are you sure-” 

“Yes.” 

When Jungeun finds out that she is being subbed off, her mouth falls open in shock. Then, her face morphs into an ugly expression of anger. 

Jungeun returns to the bench, looking extremely pissed. From the corner of her eye, Haseul spots Jinsol trying to comfort her. 

“Get lost!” Jungeun swats Jinsol’s hand away. And that’s when Haseul finally snaps. 

“Hey!” She bellows at Jungeun, causing her to jump. “God damn it, Jungeun. Pull yourself together.” 

Jungeun glares at the ground. She says nothing. 

Haseul sighs and returns her attention to the game. Pipsqueak is executing her job to perfection, expertly diverting Y. Yeonjung away from the basket, limiting the space she has to operate in. She slings a pass to N. Dawon, who lobs the ball over the defence to C. Sojung. Her layup is superbly blocked by Hyeju, but K. Jiyeon collects the loose ball and shapes to shoot. 

Heejin rises to contest, successfully forcing a missed shot from K. Jiyeon. Sooyoung grabs the rebound, already turning to dribble the ball up the court. But the referee blows his whistle and points to the free throw line, indicating that Heejin had somehow committed a foul.

Haseul can deal with refereeing decisions not going their way. She can deal with her players being in open conflict with one another. She can deal with an opponent team playing rough and bending the rules. She can deal with the stress of playing against the best team in their entire fucking province. 

Having to deal with all of that at the same time? Only a superhero would be able to carry such a strain.

Unfortunately, Haseul is only human. 

“REF! Heejin barely touched her, what the actual fuck are you doing?!” She screams at the referee, beyond frustrated with his atrocious decision. 

The referee walks up to Haseul, giving her a blank look. He then turns around and puts the whistle to his lips.

“Technical foul called against LOONA High School, due to the use of abusive language against an official. Starship Prep will receive one additional free throw, along with ball possession after all free throws have been taken.” 

Haseul wants to sock him in the face.

“WHAT?!” 

The referee turns back, his voice low and authoritative. 

“One more word, and I’ll throw you out. Are we clear?”

No. No, no, no. There’s incompetent refereeing. Then there’s whatever the fuck this guy is on. Haseul clenches her fists, knuckles turning completely white. 

A gentle hand rests on Haseul’s tense shoulder. 

“Haseul, it’s okay,” Vivi says calmly.

“Vivi-”

But Vivi merely shakes her head. At that moment, they come to a silent understanding. The team needs Haseul, and she absolutely cannot afford to get thrown out of the match. “Come on.” 

Shooting the referee one last glare, Haseul returns to the sideline with a dramatic huff.

On the court, K. Jiyeon scores two out of her three free throws, handing Starship Prep a 34-29 lead with only seconds left to go. 

Taking possession of the ball again, N. Dawon slings a pass to K. Jiyeon. But Pipsqueak and Heejin do just enough, her long-range shot hitting the edge of the rim just as the halftime buzzer sounds. 

Shaking her head with disgust, Haseul is the first one down the tunnel. To put it simply, she’s pissed off. At the referee. Jungeun. Hyunjin. Starship Prep. Everyone. Everything. 

Even as she peels back the layers of her strategy, trying to find the smallest of miscalculations, she realises that her strategy failed not because she made the wrong call, but because they just got plain unlucky. 

It doesn't bring Haseul any comfort. If anything, it only serves to make her angrier. 

HALF TIME

Inter-High School National Basketball Championship, Qualifying Phase (Girls Division)

Idalso Province

Round 3

Starship Preparatory Academy 34-29 LOONA High School

KEY PERFORMERS

Starship Prep

N. Dawon 8 pts, 3 ast 

K. Jiyeon 6 pts, 2 ast

K. Hyunjung 6 pts

LOONA 

H. Sooyoung 11 pts, 2 reb

J. Heejin 6 pts

I. Yeojin 3 pts, 1 stl

-

“Nice going, you stupid oaf.” 

“Fuck off, bitch.” 

“Why were you even standing there? You literally had no reason to!” 

“I was pushed.”

“Oh, sure, just say you didn’t want me to score, you can be honest!” 

“What is your fucking problem?”

“My problem? MY problem?!” Jungeun can feel her head pounding with rage. She stabs a finger at Hyeju’s chest. 

“My problem is that you’re always finding a way to fuck everything up, and it’s pissing me off!" Jungeun seethes. "After this match is over, I hope you collect all your shit, and get your worthless, incompetent ass out of this team-”

“ENOUGH!” 

The entire locker room falls silent. Coach Haseul stands by the door, breathing heavily.

“You two,” She raises a trembling finger at Jungeun and Hyeju. “Are really testing my goddamn patience. I’ll be more than willing to lose this match if it means you two will finally stop giving each other shit. Because I’m tired of it, and your teammates are tired of it as well.”

Coach Haseul’s next words are directed only to Jungeun. “Jungeun, you’re supposed to be the older one, but right now you’re acting like a child. Have some shame.” 

Jungeun stares at Coach Haseul incredulously. Does she not see who the real problem is? What does she even see in Hyeju? What is so compelling about her that she is the one starting over Jungeun? Why does she get to stay on the court when Jungeun is always the first to get subbed off? 

The more she thinks, the redder her vision turns. 

Coach Haseul takes a deep breath. “Alright. Let’s take five. Go and wash up. Reset yourselves. We’ll discuss our strategy for the second half later.”

Without missing a beat, Jungeun storms out of the locker room, pointedly ignoring Jinsol calling out her name. 

-

Jinsol has known it since the start. Her girlfriend has a bit of a temper.

Well, that’s somewhat underselling it. Honestly, Jinsol doesn’t know if her voice can reach Jungeun, especially while she’s still in such a rage-induced state. But she has to try. It’s her duty as a girlfriend to stick by Jungeun, even when it seems like the entire world is against her. 

“Jungie-” She finally catches up to Jungeun, and latches onto her wrist, stopping her in place. 

“Jungie, you need to calm down.” 

“For what?”

“For the team. For me,” Jinsol grabs onto Jungeun’s shoulders, turning her so that they are face-to-face. Jungeun’s face is red, her forehead glistening with sweat, eyebrows furrowed all the way downwards. “We need you to be on your game. So please, stop fighting with Hyeju.”

“You know what? Fuck that,” Jungeun bites back. “Why should I have to defer to that bumbling idiot? Is it wrong for me to be mad about her ruining my chances to score?!”

“Well- No…”

“Then why should I stop being angry?” Jungeun throws Jinsol’s hands off her shoulders. She heaves a deep sigh. “And why do you care? You’re never on my side anyways.”

“Jungie, it isn’t like that.”

“I’m done,” Jungeun turns on her heels, her back facing Jinsol. “Leave me alone.”

Jinsol can only watch helplessly as Jungeun stomps away.

Leaning against a wall, Jinsol massages her temples in frustration. Now isn’t the time for petty fights, especially when they already have enough problems to deal with. 

With a sigh, Jinsol pushes herself off the wall. She’s about to head back to the locker room when she hears voices around the corner. 

Curious, Jinsol sneaks a glance. She’s surprised to see Jiwoo and Sooyoung talking. Jiwoo’s back is facing Jinsol, but she has a clear view of Sooyoung’s face.

Sooyoung looks… angry. 

Jinsol frowns. Then again, she does recall Sooyoung being moodier than usual these last few days. Perhaps Jiwoo has something to do with it? She shakes her head. It isn’t her place to intrude. With silent steps, Jinsol walks away, trying to think of a solution to calm Jungeun down.

-

It’s terrifying facing Sooyoung like this. 

Jiwoo swallows hard, keeping her eyes trained on her sneakers. She doesn’t dare to look Sooyoung in the eye, although she can feel her searing gaze burning a hole through her skull. 

“What do you want?” Sooyoung’s voice is sharp, on-edge. 

“I-I-” Jiwoo clears her throat nervously. “Back then, when you heard… everything… I didn’t mean it. I- I didn’t mean what I said.”

A beat of silence ensues. Jiwoo resists the urge to scratch an itch on her face. 

“But you still said it.”

Jiwoo grimaces. She had a feeling that Sooyoung wasn’t going to buy her explanation. 

“Sooyoungie… I-”

“How can I trust that you are telling me the truth?” Sooyoung barks. 

“It… It’s not a lie. I would never lie to you!” 

“Jiwoo…” Sooyoung trails off, before her voice returns with a lilt of annoyance. 

“Do you think I’m a fool?” 

Jiwoo deflates. She never wanted any of this to happen. She just wants things to go back to the way they were. But that doesn’t seem possible anymore. 

“But…” Jiwoo doesn’t even recognise her own voice. It’s soft. Tiny. Weak. Unconvincing. “But I came to the match…”

“Because you genuinely believe in what we are capable of, or because of your guilt?” 

She’s ruined it. She ruined whatever sort of relationship she had with Sooyoung. Now Sooyoung can’t even trust her anymore. And honestly, Jiwoo doesn’t blame her one bit. 

Sooyoung lets out a frustrated huff. “It’s okay. We all break promises.” 

Jiwoo can feel her eyes starting to water. She keeps her head down. She doesn’t want Sooyoung to know that she’s crying.

“Anything else?” 

Jiwoo shakes her head vigorously, desperately trying to muffle her pitiful sniffles. 

“Don’t be late for the meeting.” 

Jiwoo steps aside, facing the wall, as Sooyoung brushes past her. She rounds the corner without looking back. 

A sharp inhale. A shaky breath. Jiwoo presses her head to the wall, furiously wiping away the tears that are sliding down her cheeks.

Chapter Text

Q3 - 8:00

Starship Prep 34-29 LOONA High

Starship Prep 5

SF K. Jiyeon
PF N. Dawon
C   C. Sojung
SG L. Yeoreum
PG Y. Yeonjung

LOONA 5

SF K. Jungeun
PF H. Sooyoung
C   J. Jinsol
SG J. Heejin
PG I. Yeojin 

Basketball is - and will always be - a game about height. 

It didn’t matter much to Yeojin then, when she was just a rowdy seven-year-old, breaking her opponents’ ankles in little leagues. They all sang her praises, labelling her as a future young prospect. If she was lucky, a scout would find her and sign her up to a powerhouse school in the city, to prepare her for a successful career in the professional league. 

It was a fun dream for a while. Until she entered middle school, and all her peers suddenly turned into giants, swiftly leaving her in the dust. 

Her body vibrates with energy as she faces off against Y. Yeonjung, who eyes her warily. Perhaps she perceives Yeojin to be a threat? The mere thought of an established high school player being worried about what she can do, lights a fire inside of her. 

Yeojin locks in, sticking to Y. Yeonjung like glue, standing strong as she continues to twist and turn in an effort to break free. She hands the ball off to N. Dawon, and her laser pass finds K. Jiyeon, who attempts a looping shot over Jinsol that hits the rim. Jungeun gets the rebound, and the ball finds its way to Yeojin once more. 

Starship Prep is still intimidating. How can they not be, when even their shortest player easily towers over Yeojin? 

If common logic prevailed, there’s absolutely no way Yeojin should be able to hold her own on this court. 

But Yeojin knows that she can fight. She just has to make up for her lack of height and strength with unparalleled skill and trickery. 

She can sense them. Out of the corner of her eye, sneaking up behind her blindspot. She skids to a stop, letting one Starship Prep player stumble past her, then she turns on the jets and zips towards the basket. 

Options. Decisions. Yeojin lifts her head, spots Sooyoung open in the corner. She slings a pass towards her, but not before running rings around C. Sojung and making a fool out of her in the process. Yeojin looks on as Sooyoung launches a terrible shot that doesn’t even hit the rim. 

The rebound is easily claimed by Y. Yeonjung. This time, she hands the ball off to L. Yeoreum. Yeojin tries to suppress the smile forming on her face. She likes to think that Y. Yeonjung is scared of her now, which is why she’s handing the ball over to a teammate. 

No matter. Yeojin will take all of them on. 

L. Yeoreum makes a bold move, shifting the ball in her hands before shooting past Yeojin into the paint. Yeojin quickly gives chase, knowing that with her speed, she’ll be able to get in front of L. Yeoreum just in time to contest a shot. If the shot misses, their team has three talented rebounders who can secure a loose ball, so all she has to focus on is catching up with-

Her foot catches onto the outstretched leg of C. Sojung. Yeojin stumbles awkwardly, and L. Yeoreum breaks away, passing the ball to N. Dawon for two simple points. 

“Ref! Trip!” Jungeun screams in protest, but the referee - as he has done for much of this match - merely shakes his head, indicating that the points were scored fairly. 

Yeojin has no words, just throws her arms up in the air in frustration. She glares at the back of C. Sojung, watching as she gleefully high-fives L. Yeoreum and N. Dawon. The deliberate trip must surely be payback for her earlier humiliation by Yeojin’s hands. 

So, she’s rattled not just one, but two Starship Prep players now. That’s two more pieces of wood to add to a steadily growing fire. 

“Give!” She barks to Heejin, who duly obliges. Yeojin takes the ball up the court, assessing the situation, evaluating the best course of action. She quickly realises that the Starship Prep defence is dropping off, staying close together, wary of LOONA High’s scoring ability close to the basket. 

When will they learn? Faster than anyone can react, Yeojin leaps into the air, letting the ball fly. It swirls in the air like a supersonic bullet, crashing into the basket for a stunning three-point shot. 

“Woo! Yeah, baby!” Yeojin whoops, eagerly returning her teammates’ high-fives. 

Starship Prep is clearly rattled. L. Yeoreum fumbles a simple pass, and Yeojin yanks it out of her hands, zipping towards the basket with a spring in her step. 

She’s felt like this several times before. Many years ago, when she was but a sprightly little kid, dribbling the basketball through a horde of clueless eight-year-olds, scoring point after point after point. A sense of exhilaration that she’s struggled to recapture since. 

At this moment, standing on a court full of giants, as a crowd of hostile fans throws vitriol and abuse at her feet, Yeojin feels absolutely unstoppable. 

The basket is coming up, with not a single Starship Prep player in sight. Yeojin jumps, flicking the ball upwards with her wrist, her mouth opening wide to let out a gleeful scream-

A body steamrolls past, her jersey colour an ominous royal blue. With a mighty leap, C. Sojung stretches out a hand and beats the ball away from the basket. 

Yeojin whirls around in shock. N. Dawon picks up the stray ball. She drops a gorgeous dime over the LOONA defence to K. Jiyeon, who spins past Sooyoung and knocks down a jump shot. 

That should’ve been LOONA’s points. Her points. But somehow, Starship Prep was able to score instead. All of a sudden, Yeojin notices how tall C. Sojung is. N. Dawon could easily pass off as a tower next to Yeojin. Honestly, anybody can. 

An uncomfortable feeling settles in her bones. It’s the pressure of being behind. The mental strain that comes with playing against an elite team. The feeling seems to be spreading to her teammates as well, as Sooyoung cans another horrible shot that Y. Yeonjung easily collects. 

Yeojin faces off against Y. Yeonjung once again. In terms of personal duels, Yeojin has won all of them so far, and she’s not planning to let that streak be broken. 

However, Y. Yeonjung has other ideas. From her peripheral vision, she spots C. Sojung rushing from the side, with Sooyoung lagging behind. Yeojin locks eyes with Y. Yeonjung, sees her turn around to hand the ball off, and she dashes forward desperately, arms outstretched, already accepting that it’s not going to make a difference. 

C. Sojung shoots, lifting the ball way over Yeojin’s reach. She follows through, with a downward fist that strikes Yeojin’s cheekbone, sending her sprawling to the floor. 

Yeojin’s vision blurs, the stinging pain overwhelming her senses. She can’t see the basket, but judging by the rocking cheers of the crowd, C. Sojung probably scored, further compounding LOONA’s misery. 

“Ref! For god’s sake, she literally punched her!” 

Turning her head, Yeojin spots her teammates crowding around the referee, furiously protesting for an offensive foul. She doesn’t have the energy to tell them that it’s pointless. Sure enough, the referee waves them away, signalling for the game to play on. 

“She’s pretty good for a preschooler,” K. Jiyeon laughs as she steps over Yeojin tauntingly. 

“My cousin is taller, and he’s only nine,” C. Sojung sneers. 

Yeojin lies on the floor, panting heavily. She’s still weak, and still short. Despite her best efforts, she was powerless to change the game. It’s like a bucket of water just got dropped on her, extinguishing the fire that initially burned inside. 

Coach Haseul calls timeout. Heejin rushes over and pulls Yeojin to her feet. She trudges over towards the bench, K. Jiyeon and C. Sojung’s words still ringing in her ears. 

“They’ve adapted,” Coach Haseul looks shaken. “They’re gonna start taking outside shots. Sooyoung, I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I need you to step up. You can’t let C. Sojung get that shot off. Ever. Again.” 

“Yes, Coach,” Sooyoung mutters, looking distracted. 

Coach Haseul ignores her, and she continues rambling on with reckless abandon. “We need to counter their plays somehow. They’re getting past us way too easily. I know what they’re trying to do and I’m trying to explain it to you but I don’t know if you’ll understand so I really, really need you to listen to me-” 

“Then put me on.” 

Everyone turns to look at Hyunjin. 

“Hyunjin,” Coach Haseul says slowly. “I know this game is important to you, but are you absolutely sure that-” 

“I’m sure,” Hyunjin cuts her off. She stands up to her full height, and Yeojin gulps. Has Hyunjin always looked that tall? “I’m ready.” 

Coach Haseul blinks, still looking a bit uncertain. 

“I’ve played with them before. I know how they operate. You need to put me in, Coach,” Hyunjin insists. 

“...Okay,” Coach Haseul nods slowly. “Since Pipsqueak took a beating just now, we’ll let Miss Vivi check on her first. And we’ll make one more change, Hyeju’ll come in for Jinsol. We need to be more dynamic in attack and build momentum. Hyunjin, I’m putting things in your hands.” 

“Got it,” Hyunjin nods firmly.