Okay, seriously, close your eyes and imagine the Banani High gym. You hear it, right? That constant squeak-squeak-squeeeeak of high-tops fighting for grip on the polished wood? That's the baseline.

  Layer on top the thump-thump... thump-thump of a dozen basketballs bouncing, some in rhythm, some wildly off. Then, FWEEEET! Kiyoshi’s whistle cuts through everything, sharp enough to make you jump. Standard practice stuff, yeah, just a few days after that intense Motijheel game.

  But dude, the vibe? Totally different frequency. That cloud of 'uhhh, who's this new quiet guy?' that hung over James? Vanished.

  Like, completely evaporated. In its pce, there was this… solidness. You could almost feel it in the air between passes. Trust.

  Simple as that. It wasn't announced or anything, it just was. Like everyone finally exhaled and was like, "Okay, yeah. He's the real deal." The gym wasn't filled with nervous energy or skeptical side-eyes anymore.

  Now it was just buzzing, humming with the potential of a team that was finally, finally starting to sync up. Like finding the right gear after grinding for miles.

  Remember those drills that used to look like five people trying to assemble IKEA furniture blindfolded? Total chaos? Yeah, forget that. Now?

  Smooth. Like, buttery smooth. Everything just flowed, and nine times out of ten, the whole py seemed to naturally pivot around James. It was wild to watch.

  Take Ahsan, running point. Before, bringing the ball up felt like defusing a bomb under pressure. His head was on a swivel, frantically scanning, "Who's open? Anyone? PLEASE?" Now?

  Chill. His eyes just instinctively flickered to the wing. Where's James? Ah, there.

  It wasn't even a decision anymore; it was muscle memory kicking in. James just standing there felt like points waiting to happen. A silent promise.

  "Robi! Set that screen, right side! Let's see some muscle!" Kiyoshi's voice barked out, cutting through the dribbling. Still got that sharp edge, but you could hear something else too, a low hum of satisfaction. "Make it solid!"

  "Got it, Coach! Pnting my roots!" Robi, their sturdy center who looked like he could actually move walls, lumbered into perfect position. Solid was an understatement.

  "Ahsan, use it! Draw that double team!" Kiyoshi instructed.

  "On it! Reading the D!" Ahsan dribbled hard around Robi's screen, just like pnned. Two defenders immediately jumped him, leaving their guys scrambling. Perfect.

  "They're colpsing!"

  "Kick it, Ahsan! Find James!" Kiyoshi prompted.

  Zip! Ahsan didn't even need the prompt. He snapped a ser pass straight to James, who'd drifted almost casually to the corner, finding that pocket of space like he had a built-in GPS. Defense was already two steps behind.

  Too te.

  At this point, nobody even flinched when the ball left James’s hands. Seriously. That ridiculously smooth, almost zy-looking shot? Used to get gasps.

  Now? It was just… what James did. Swish. The net barely moved, just gave a little shimmy.

  Another one down. Standard operating procedure.

  "SHEESH! Another one bites the dust!" Arshad bellowed from the sideline, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet while mopping his face with his jersey. He subbed in, jogging over and spping James hard on the back. "Yo, Monster! Real talk, you gonna score all the points?"