The sun had barely risen above the iron spires of Casa de Imperium when the sound of sneakers and yawns echoed across the east court.
Cold air clung to their skin. The campus was still half asleep — but Castillian wasn't.
Four shadows stood on the court, stretching, or muttering.
Mico checked his digital watch. 4:58 AM.
Right on time. Almost.
Uno was rolling his shoulders, humming a tune. Felix was already halfway through warm-ups, his posture perfectly aligned. Jairo was trying to balance on one foot while fixing his headband.
And then — like a gust — Lynx rolled in on a skateboard, coffee in one hand (in a mug), grin in the other.
4:59.
He kicked the board up and caught it midair, landing right in front of Mico. "See? On time."
Mico raised an eyebrow. "You have one minute to regret that sentence."
"Attendance check," Mico announced. "Anyone late runs a hundred pushups."
Lynx dropped his skateboard on the bench and saluted lazily. "Captain, technically, I'm early by—"
"—Twenty seconds. Which you can use to start your penalty."
Lynx groaned but dropped to the ground anyway. Uno laughed so hard he nearly choked on his water.
"Discipline," Mico said, pacing in front of them, "isn't optional. You'll hate me before the season ends, but you'll thank me when you're winning."
Jairo, already sweating from nothing but anticipation, raised a hand. "Question, Captain! What if we already love you?"
"Then you'll still do pushups," Mico replied flatly.
5:30 AM
The perimeter of Casa de Imperium was massive — wide roads surrounded by towering research buildings and glass bridges. Their task: 5 kilometers around the campus.
Jairo complained first. Uno followed by blaming the "humidity" for ruining his hair. Lynx ran like he was in a race against gravity — fast, reckless, grinning the whole way.
Felix finished first, silent as ever. Instead of resting, he turned back and jogged beside Jairo, matching his pace until they both crossed the line.
Mico checked his stopwatch. "Felix — early by forty seconds. The rest of you — delayed by one minute and seven seconds."
"Not bad," Uno said, breathing hard. "For mortals."
Lynx dropped onto the bench, still catching his breath. "Captain's stopwatch must be broken. I was flying."
"Your skateboard doesn't count as flight," Mico said dryly.
7:30 AM
The drills began.
Passing.
Dribbling.
Footwork.
Mico barked corrections like an engineer fine-tuning a machine. Every bounce of the ball echoed under the morning light.
"Jairo," he said, "lower your center of gravity."
Jairo nodded — then promptly kicked over a cone. Again.
Felix picked it up without a word.
Lynx, bored, spun the ball behind his back and did a reverse dribble pirouette, sending it between his legs and across the floor.
Uno caught it midair, laughing. "Stylish, but not in the manual."
"It's not supposed to be," Lynx said with a smirk. "That's why it works."
Mico's gaze was sharp. "Do that again in a game, and you'll be benched."
Lynx winked. "You'll thank me when it scores."
Mico didn't reply. But for a moment — just a second — the corner of his mouth twitched.
4:00 PM
The afternoon heat hung heavy. The court gleamed under the golden sun.
"Silent gameplay," Mico ordered. "No trash talk, no shouting. Let your moves speak."
They began — passes slicing through the air, sneakers screeching against the polished floor.
Felix guarded the paint like a fortress, every rebound his. Uno danced around defenders, his rhythm unbroken. Lynx broke plays with his chaos, unpredictable but brilliant. Jairo charged with explosive speed, the spark of the team.
Mico watched everything — calm, analytical, orchestrating every angle like a grandmaster.
For three minutes, the silence was perfect.
Then Jairo couldn't take it anymore. "DEFENSE!!!" He screamed.
The ball froze mid-pass. Uno cursed in shock. Lynx dropped to his knees, wheezing.
Mico pinched the bridge of his nose. "New note," he muttered under his breath. "Redefine 'silence.' Possibly remove Jairo's vocal cords."
Jairo raised a hand sheepishly. "Sorry, Captain. It was too quiet."
"Exactly the point," Mico said, but there was no real anger in his voice — just exhaustion mixed with reluctant amusement.
By the time the day ended, the sun had already dipped behind the Iron Spire, painting the court in streaks of orange and steel.
They were drenched in sweat, muscles aching, hearts pounding — but they were grinning.
Uno flopped onto the floor, staring at the ceiling. "If this is day one," he panted, "I'm not surviving day two."
Felix leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "You'll live."
Lynx smirked. "Barely."
Mico gathered his notes, standing at the edge of the court. "Tomorrow, same time. Don't be late."
Jairo saluted, still smiling. "Aye, Captain Discipline."
---
DAY 2
The second morning of Castillian's training began an hour later than yesterday — a mercy granted by Mico after Lynx nearly fell asleep mid-sprint the day before.
But mercy had limits.
The moment they arrived at the court, Mico stood in front of them with his clipboard and that same unreadable calm in his expression.
"Today's focus: precision and logic."
Jairo groaned. "Can't we just do… vibes?"
Mico's eyes flicked up. "You can vibe after you've made 200 accurate shots."
Uno snorted. "You heard him, sunshine. Grab your ball."
6:00 AM
The court echoed with the rhythmic thuds of basketballs. Every bounce, every release, every swish was part of a pattern — one that Mico demanded they all follow.
"Two hundred three-pointers," he said, glancing at Uno. "And no mirror this time."
Uno scowled. "But I shoot better when I admire myself."
"That's the problem."
Meanwhile, Lynx was already at the rim, soaring off the ground like gravity was optional.
"Limit to three dunks per session," Mico warned without looking up from his notes.
The rim rattled.
Mico sighed. "That's one violation."
Lynx grinned. "Worth it."
Jairo counted each shot out loud, his voice echoing across the court. Felix, quiet as ever, adjusted his stance and sank one clean basket after another, his movements as steady as his breathing.
When Jairo missed and groaned dramatically, Felix said calmly, "Air ball sings loud / Wind whispers, try once again / Rim awaits the brave."
Jairo blinked. "Did you just… poetry me?"
Felix nodded. "Haiku improves morale."
8:00 AM
Back in their team room, the smell of coffee and whiteboard markers filled the air.
A large screen showed a PowerPoint titled: "Offensive Spacing and the Art of Passing Lanes."
Uno groaned. "It's too early for art."
Mico clicked to the first slide. "This—"
He stopped. Lynx was already doodling on the projector printouts — tiny flames on the corners, stickmen doing windmill dunks, and a heroic sketch labeled 'Lynx Saves the Game'.
Mico exhaled slowly. "Lynx."
"Team morale," Lynx said innocently. "Visual aids help me learn."
Jairo leaned closer, admiring the doodle. "You forgot Uno's hair."
"Oh right—" Lynx scribbled a big swoosh across the page.
Felix, on the other hand, filled his notebook with neat lines of text that somehow rhymed. Mico glanced over his shoulder once and realized Felix was writing haikus about court geometry.
"The triangle breathes / Player moves, spacing alive / Math is poetry."
Uno looked at Felix's notes. "You're like if Einstein did slam poetry."
Felix only smiled faintly. "Basketball is geometry in motion."
Mico pointed at the diagram again. "And chaos if you keep talking."
5:00 PM
Evening descended with golden light cutting through the high glass walls. This session was different — quiet, precise, and heavily monitored.
Mico's rule was simple: "Three dribbles before passing. No exceptions."
The goal was control, not flair.
At least, that was the goal until Lynx got the ball.
He took three dribbles — then, very noticeably, one more.
Mico's eyes narrowed. "That was four."
Lynx held up three fingers. "No, that was three and a half. The last one was invisible."
"Physics disagrees," Mico replied flatly.
Before Lynx could argue, Jairo lunged and tackled him mid-laugh, both of them crashing to the floor. The ball bounced away, rolling to Felix's feet.
Felix picked it up, turned toward the rim, and sank a perfect jumper — silent and clean.
Uno clapped slowly. "Well, at least someone's following the laws of the universe."
"Barely," Mico murmured, jotting something in his notebook. Team follows laws of physics… loosely.
Lynx groaned from the floor. "Loosely is still technically correct."
Jairo, still laughing, pushed himself up. "Then we're winning loosely, Captain."
Mico glanced at them, his expression unreadable — but the faintest smirk broke through.
"Only if you survive Wednesday."
---
DAY 3
By the third day, the team arrived at the court quieter than usual.
Fatigue had begun to show — Lynx's hair was sticking up in five different directions, Jairo's enthusiasm was down to half volume, and Uno had dark circles under his eyes that could pass for eyeliner.
Mico stood before them with his clipboard again, tone calm but firm.
"Today," he said, "we're not training your bodies. We're training your minds."
Lynx yawned. "Finally. A break."
Uno muttered, "That's what you said before yesterday's 'light' scrimmage."
Mico ignored them both. "Felix will lead the first session."
Everyone turned toward Felix, who stood with his usual serene composure, hands folded behind his back.
He simply nodded once. "We begin with silence."
6:30 AM
They sat cross-legged in a circle at the edge of the indoor garden, sunlight streaming through the glass panels. Felix's voice was calm and steady — almost hypnotic.
"Empty your thoughts," he said softly. "Let the noise dissolve."
Uno raised a hand lazily. "Can I empty my thoughts but keep my sunglasses?"
Felix opened one eye. "Are they tinted?"
"Always."
"Then yes. They reflect the illusion of ego."
Uno grinned. "I like you more every day."
Meanwhile, Lynx had already fallen asleep upright, snoring quietly but somehow still maintaining perfect posture.
Jairo, struggling to keep still, suddenly shouted, "INNER PEACE!!!"
The birds outside scattered.
Felix didn't even flinch. "Good. Now find outer silence to match it."
Mico, sitting a few steps behind the group, pressed his fingers against his temple. This is what I get for assigning meditation to athletes.
9:00 AM
Next, they moved to the gym's training hall. The air smelled faintly of sweat and focus.
"Close your eyes," Mico instructed. "Visualize the perfect game. The sound of the crowd. The weight of the ball. The moment before victory."
For a minute, the room was peaceful — until Jairo started mumbling, "And then I shoot—BAM!—game-winner!"
Lynx smirked. "I'd block that."
"Not in my imagination, you won't."
Mico exhaled. "Focus."
Lynx leaned back with his eyes closed, imagining his own highlight reel — except his mental image didn't stop at the winning shot. He started picturing himself dancing afterward, crowd cheering, confetti falling.
Mico noticed the grin forming on Lynx's face. "You're not supposed to imagine the celebration."
"Then what's the point of winning?"
Meanwhile, Uno was clearly not visualizing the ball at all — his head tilted slightly, smirk tugging on his lips.
"Uno," Mico said. "What do you see?"
"The crowd," Uno sighs. "They're chanting my name. It's motivating."
"Imagine the ball," Mico replied flatly.
Uno grinned wider. "The ball's in my hand. The crowd's in my heart."
"Therapy," Mico muttered, jotting something on his clipboard. "This team needs therapy."
4:00 PM
By afternoon, they were back on the court — shirts clinging with sweat, sneakers squeaking against polished floors.
This time, Mico stood near the sideline, whistle in hand.
"Today's rule: no hero ball," he said firmly.
Jairo frowned. "Define hero."
"Anyone who thinks the game revolves around them."
Uno crossed his arms. "So… Lynx?"
Lynx tossed him a grin. "I prefer the term main character."
The scrimmage began — fast, sharp, but surprisingly coordinated. Jairo's energy pushed the rhythm, Felix's quiet precision balanced it, Uno's clever plays directed it, and Lynx's power completed it.
Even Mico, watching closely, could see the faint spark of unity forming.
They were still rough, still chaotic — but every pass, every laugh, every stumble was a sign they were beginning to understand each other's rhythm.
And when the whistle finally blew, the team collapsed on the floor in a pile of laughter and sweat.
Jairo lay sprawled out, grinning. "So… are we mentally calibrated now?"
Mico didn't look up from his notes. "Barely. But we're getting there."
Felix smiled faintly, gazing at the ceiling. "Chaos breathes order when guided by will."
Uno smirked. "Translation: we did great."
Mico allowed himself a small, rare smile. "Close enough."