PREVIEW
... ike coiled springs.
A storm waiting for its next strike.
...
In contrast, Seiryuu’s bench felt colder. Not in defeat—but calculation.
The overhead lights cast a sterile glow on their metallic water bottles, on the rows of digits sketched faintly on laminated play sheets. It was like stepping into a lab mid-experiment.
Coach Renjirō Tsukinomiya leaned forward. His voice wasn’t loud, but it sliced through doubt.
"They’re good. Smart. But this? This i ...
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