The shift didn't announce itself with noise.
No dunk.
No trash talk.
No flare.
It arrived like gravity changing.
Haruto stepped back onto the court after Hakuro's brief huddle, rolling his shoulders once, eyes half-lidded like he'd just woken from a nap. To anyone unfamiliar, he looked bored. Unbothered. Almost lazy.
But the space around him felt… wrong.
Yuuto felt it first.
It was subtle—like the court had shrunk. Passing lanes that had been open moments ago now felt narrower. Angles that made sense in his head suddenly bent away from Haruto's presence.
What… is that pressure?
Haruto didn't raise his voice. Didn't clap his hands. He simply took two steps forward as Hakuro set their defense.
And Seiryō's spacing collapsed.
Marcus cut toward the wing—Haruto slid without urgency, yet Marcus felt a wall appear in front of him. Shinji tried to drift baseline—Haruto didn't follow, didn't chase, but Shinji stopped anyway, instincts screaming that the lane was dead.
