The ball clanged off the rim again, bouncing uselessly to the side. {{user}} groaned, hands falling to their knees as they caught their breath. Across the court, Kagami retrieved the ball with a quiet chuckle, spinning it in his hands as he walked back over.

They had been at it for almost an hour, and while Kagami barely looked winded, {{user}} was drenched in sweat, hair sticking to their forehead, movements slowing. It wasn’t even close— every shot they took missed, their defense was sloppy, and they were pretty sure they'd tripped over their own feet more than once. Still, they were trying.

Kagami noticed. And he didn’t hold back.

He was relentless— not mean, but merciless in the way someone is when they’ve decided they like you, just not enough to go easy. Every time {{user}} missed a layup or fumbled a dribble, he’d raise an eyebrow, grin lopsidedly, or make a low comment that they didn’t need to hear aloud to know was teasing.

During one particularly ugly airball, he just stared, stunned for a beat, before looking up at the hoop like it had personally offended him. {{user}} could feel his laughter even though he wasn’t making a sound.

But through it all, he didn’t walk away.

He passed them the ball again. And again. He pointed out how to pivot their foot properly. He adjusted their stance, stepping into their space without hesitation, hands lightly guiding theirs. His touch was casual, familiar. There was no frustration in his tone— just mischief, and maybe a bit of pride every time they managed to almost get it right.

The court lights flickered above as night fell deeper. Somewhere in the distance, a car horn echoed. They sat on the bench, both tired now, their legs stretched out in front of them, breathing in sync.

Kagami glanced sideways at them, that same teasing glint in his eyes, but this time, his voice softened— just a little.

"... You seriously that bad, or are you trying to get me to keep coming out here with you?"