"Who told that idiot to shoot a three-pointer?" a middle-aged man's voice rose from the bench where Hin and Ton had been sitting.

    The reserves sitting on the same side all turned to look at their coach before turning their gaze to the young man with black hair named Hin on the court, player number 10 of the team.

    "Tell that idiot not to do that again. Everyone knows he's a terrible shooter, just as bad at playing. If there was anyone better than him right now, I won’t send him on the field.," the middle-aged man turned back to his team's bench before shaking his head.

    "Calm down, Coach Oom. At least he plays better than us, heh-heh," a young player on the bench spoke up.

    "Yeah, it's just the two of them left in their third year. Let them play this year; they'll graduate next year anyway," Coach Oom said.

    Hin, now in his senior year of high school, got to play in his final year, just like Ton.

    "It's such a waste of Ton's talent," Coach Oom continued, glancing at Ton, who played as if carrying the team, and Hin, who played foolishly, standing still most of the time.

    Ton said if Hin wasn't allowed to play, he wouldn't play either. That was why he let Hin onto the field.

    Another reason was Hin's diligence, which everyone, including himself, knew.

    Hin was hardworking but lacked talent in both academics and sports. However, he was determined to become a starter, unlike Ton, who made the varsity team as soon as he entered grade 10.

    "Let it be. If we lose this game, he'll have to sit on the bench." This was Hin's first official game after three years in the club. Coach Oom, seeing his diligence, gave him a chance to play, but it seemed unlikely he would become a starter.

    It was an away game today. No big deal. They'd wait for the next home game. As long as the score wasn't too far apart, they could still come back.

    "Hey!!" Cheers erupted loudly around the court, filled with the opposing team's fans.

    "That number 10 on their team plays so badly," the chatter among the spectators rose.

    They had been watching for a while now. Their team consistently scored by exploiting player number 10's defense, with most points coming from his inability to guard.

    "Seriously, does this school even allow someone so bad to play? And that shot earlier."

    "Totally terrible."

    Even the spectators could see it, let alone the players on the court. They aggressively targeted Hin's side.

    Back on the court.

    [Body processing at 1%,] Yo's voice echoed.

    After I had shot the first ball, this voice popped up. 'Seems like I need to process 100% before I can shoot at 100% efficiency,' I thought.

    [Yo, analyze the opposing team's play,] I said.

    [Understood. Beginning analysis of the opposing team's play.]

    The opposing players passed the ball.

    [Analysis of the opposing team's play at 1%.]

    First pass.

    [Analysis of the opposing team's play at 2%.]

    Player number 11 on the opposing team dribbled the ball.

    [Analysis of the opposing team's play at 3%.]

    Number 11 passed the ball to number 26 on their side.

    With every action they took, the analysis continued to announce updates.

    The opposing players who had been scoring from my side started to feel something odd.

    As time passed,

    "Watch out!" shouted number 11 from the opposing team, who had been penetrating Hin's defense, but it was too late. The ball sent their way was deflected forward by Hin.

    "Hey!" The entire stadium exclaimed.

    Hin immediately dashed to catch the ball. In front was number 30 from the opposing team blocking him.

    "Don't let him get away," shouted number 26, the player who lost the ball. Number 30 focused, determined not to let the opponent through.

    "Next time, the game isn't over yet. Don't mock others too soon," I dribbled the ball before stopping.

    Number 30, the player who mocked me during the shot, scowled instantly upon hearing me.

    I took a step back.

    "Shoot!" exclaimed number 30, lunging forward, the previous statement from Hin making him fear that the opposing team would shoot three-pointer.

    Hin, about to shoot, changed to a mid-air pass to his right.

    Number 30, deceived by Hin's fake jump, lost his chance to chase the ball immediately.

    A shadow rushed in and caught the ball.

    "Number 7!!" exclaimed number 30 from the opposing side in surprise.

    Ton, wearing number 7, dashed from behind Hin and caught the ball.

    "2 points," he easily sent it into the hoop. The loud cheers from the opposing side silenced in an instant, leaving the entire stadium in quiet.

    Ton walked over to Hin and raised his hand for a high five.

    Clap. The sound of their hands echoed throughout the stadium.

    [Analysis of the opposing team's play at 100%.]

    Down by 20 points, 5 minutes left before the end of the game.