The Left Hand Is Just for Show (2)
An airball.
A basketball that misses by such a wide margin that it doesn't even graze the rim. For any player—really, for anyone who's ever played a decent amount of basketball—an airball is one of the most humiliating things that can happen. And if it happens at the free-throw line, with no one within arm's reach, the shame doubles.
Fortunately, Seoha and Suyeon, who seemed to have no history with the sport whatsoever, had no idea. They simply said it was too bad, and complimented Yeoncheong on her good form anyway.
But in Yeoncheong's class, Class 1 of the second year, there was one girl who belonged to the basketball club.
While her flushed face was still cooling down, Yeoncheong snuck a glance at that girl. Her sky-blue eyes found Nayun, and met a pair of yellow ones.
Nayun, who had been watching with a look of genuine astonishment until a moment ago, let out a small snort the instant their eyes met.
She knows.
Just as Yeoncheong tried to look away, Nayun picked up a basketball—one that had slipped through the net and rolled off to the side.
She held it against her chest and fired it with both hands, and the ball arrived squarely in Yeoncheong's hands. Nayun's mouth hung open at her own throw.
"What? What are you saying?"
Unable to decipher the mouth shape, Yeoncheong tilted her head.
Suyeon, who had wandered over at some point, began sounding out whatever Nayun had just mouthed. Seoha silently moved her lips a few times before landing on the answer almost immediately.
"All show."
Just two words. More than enough to rake Yeoncheong's pride raw.
"All show? What's that supposed to mean?"
Suyeon looked over at Nayun, who had tossed out the remark and simply walked away.
"I think she's saying you threw it one-handed..."
Yeoncheong, working as hard as she could to keep her expression in check, answered Suyeon's puzzled look.
"Most girls throw with two hands rather than one, you see."
Yeoncheong added the explanation as casually as she could manage. At that, Suyeon scanned the other classmates practicing around them. Sure enough, most of the girls were throwing the ball two-handed from the chest.
"Oh, it's true."
Girls generally had less upper-body strength than boys, and anyone who'd never really watched basketball naturally threw two-handed whenever they needed to put something somewhere with any accuracy.
Suyeon, finally grasping what Nayun had meant, shot a careful glance at Yeoncheong.
"Um... I'm sure Nayun didn't mean anything bad by it. She loves sports—she's been in the basketball club since first year."
Yeoncheong gave a small nod. It wasn't that she didn't understand. There had been a time when she'd thought the same thing, watching people pull "technique" out of their asses and attempt moves they had no business attempting.
But not now. Not today.
A form she had honed over years of practice, dismissed as all for show. Yeoncheong was not the type to sit quietly after hearing that about basketball, of all things—the sport she'd considered her main event.
"You made eight, right?"
"Huh...?"
"Yes, she did. Nayun made eight earlier."
Seoha answered on Yeoncheong's behalf, since Suyeon hadn't caught the question.
Yeoncheong turned toward Nayun and, deliberately, raised her voice.
"I make more than that."
This wasn't about pride. It was a matter of proving the years she'd put into the game.
The down-and-back dribbling and the layups were nothing to worry about. Having confirmed everything through repeated practice, Yeoncheong focused solely on shooting—on free throws.
Every spare moment, she lofted short shots at an empty hoop, running the same check over and over: was it a lack of strength, or had her form simply changed?
"For dribbling, push the ball down. It'll bounce off the floor naturally and come right back to you."
"Layups aren't hard at all. It's about placing the ball up there—or, put simply, just picture tossing it into the corner of that little white square."
Yeoncheong didn't forget to help Seoha and Suyeon, either. She rewatched the tutorial videos she'd dug up back in her practicing days and coached them as earnestly as she could.
Thanks to that, the two of them cleared their evaluations with ease and spent the rest of the class watching Yeoncheong practice.
Time slipped by, and before anyone knew it, two PE classes had passed and a new week had begun.
In the third PE class, Yeoncheong and Seoha headed to the gymnasium as usual, trailing behind everyone else. Suyeon had already gone ahead with the other girls.
"Yeoncheong, how much longer are you going to practice?"
"Honestly, it's kind of an awkward spot right now... Why?"
"Teacher Hayoung said something. She said, 'That girl's already more than good enough to pass. Why is she still practicing?'"
For a teacher, it was better to get students through their evaluations quickly and move on to the next unit. In that light, it was only natural that Yeoncheong's refusal to test yet was nagging at her.
"She said we'd have until this week, remember?"
"There's barely anyone left who hasn't passed. After you taught them, everyone's been clearing the dribbling and layups no problem."
Word gets around that someone teaches well, and people start flocking.
Once Seoha and Suyeon passed their evaluations in no time, other classmates began coming to Yeoncheong for help too. It wasn't exactly a difficult favor, so she never turned anyone down, even in the middle of her own practice.
According to Teacher Hayoung, Yeoncheong's class had the highest basketball evaluation scores in the entire second year. The credit was hers.
"Then I guess I have to take it today..."
If she put it off any longer, she could expect some pointed looks.
"It's because you want to do better than Nayun, isn't it?"
"Well, I can't exactly say no."
It wasn't entirely wrong, so Yeoncheong didn't deny it.
"You're going to do great."
"How do you know that?"
Seoha, walking on her right, closed the distance between them. Shoulder-brushing distance—her silky hair brushed against Yeoncheong's shoulder. And then Seoha's left hand wrapped around Yeoncheong's right.
Startled, Yeoncheong tried to pull away, but her arm was already captive; there was nowhere to run.
It was a lot like that time in the infirmary. Back then she'd assumed it was because she'd looked like she was in pain—but there was no such excuse now.
"S-Seoha. Not here, okay...?"
"Hm? What's wrong with holding your hand?"
With a look that said she genuinely didn't understand the objection, Seoha studied Yeoncheong's hand and kept talking.
"Yeoncheong, look at your hands. No one's practiced more than you these past few days. Of course you'll do well. That's what I think."
"Oh."
Understanding what Seoha meant, Yeoncheong grew sheepish—and then embarrassed, realizing she'd been imagining things all on her own.
"You've gotten so close lately, though..."
Seoha was someone who kept things hidden beneath the surface. The fact that she'd grown close at some point remained a mystery to Yeoncheong.
"It makes sense, though."
"What does?"
"That was the first time in my life I've ever received a gift someone wrapped for me themselves."
For an instant, something dark flickered in Seoha's red eyes, reflected in Yeoncheong's blue ones.
The shadow that had settled over her face lasted only a moment. Seoha looked straight into Yeoncheong's eyes and added, quietly:
"And... it's my taste."
"Huh? What is?"
There was no time to hear the answer. Somehow, they had already arrived at the gymnasium.
Under Teacher Hayoung's direction, the students of Class 1 finished a brief warm-up.
"How many haven't taken the evaluation yet? Raise your hands."
Yeoncheong and a few other girls raised their hands. As the teacher counted them off one by one, her gaze came to a stop on Yeoncheong.
"Yeoncheong, sitting out again today?"
"No. I'll take it."
"Good, I underst—wait, you will?"
Teacher Hayoung's eyes went round; she'd fully expected to hear no.
"Yes. I'll warm up a little and take it right away."
"Alright. Let's move quickly with the rest of you who haven't passed, too. If you want to practice, practice; if you want free time, earn it."
The gathered students scattered in an instant. Nayun stole a glance at Yeoncheong, then claimed a hoop and began her own practice.
Picking the best ball out of the towering pile, Yeoncheong loosened up lightly as well.
The teacher wasn't the only one surprised by the news. Suyeon, who had come to the gym early with the other girls, asked:
"Yeoncheong, feeling confident now?"
"After practicing this much, it's about time."
Yeoncheong didn't bother bringing up her conversation with Seoha.
She dribbled the length of the court, finished with a layup, shot exactly ten free throws, and then went straight to the teacher. Teacher Hayoung, who had been waiting while watching her, spoke up.
"So you're finally doing it. The mastermind behind Class 1's high basketball scores."
"I was planning to wait until next class, but I'd rather just do it now."
Seeing Yeoncheong, Hayoung seemed to remember something and smiled faintly.
"When you said you tripped and fell without even clearing the tennis net, I thought you were hopeless at sports. I was wrong, wasn't I?"
"Shall I start with the down-and-back dribble?"
Yeoncheong pretended not to hear and readied herself for the evaluation.
"Oh—right. Go down, touch the far hoop, and come back this way. Okay, I'll time you."
No sooner had the PE teacher given the signal than Yeoncheong exploded forward.
Her sky-blue hair, loose enough that there was no need to tie it back, streamed behind her as she reached the far end in a blink. The ball smacked against the floor as she pivoted, and she was back at the near hoop in moments.
"Doesn't even need timing. Let's just see the layups."
For the layups, she deliberately slowed her pace.
The criteria were a three-step approach and getting the ball in, so that was where Yeoncheong focused her attention.
As expected, she converted layups from every direction, and only the free throws remained.
Ball in hand, Yeoncheong stepped up to the free-throw line and drew a light breath. At some point, Nayun had drifted over to watch her evaluation up close.
Two dribbles, a bend of the knees, rise, release—the whole sequence flowed together seamlessly. The ball traced a beautiful arc and, without so much as brushing the backboard, was sucked down through the rim.
Having cleaned up the first shot, Yeoncheong gave her fist a light clench.
All that practice had taught her one thing: her lower-body strength wasn't transferring fully to her upper body.
It was a fact she might never have discovered if her strength hadn't faded. In that respect, becoming a girl had actually helped.
Having corrected the flaw through grueling repetition, Yeoncheong's free throws were practically unstoppable. Her condition was good, and she herself was riding a wave of razor-sharp focus.
Every time she buried another shot without a flicker of hesitation, Suyeon's cheering grew more theatrical. Even Teacher Hayoung, supervising the evaluation, chimed in.
"Beautiful form. So pretty."
Beauty born of simplicity. That was exactly why Yeoncheong had copied that one player's form in the first place.
It feels good when someone recognizes what you do. The compliment shook her concentration, and it showed immediately—the ball flew true, kissed the rim, circled it once, and popped back out.
Suyeon's deep groan of despair was loud enough that you'd think she was the one being evaluated.
With a long, steadying breath, Yeoncheong shook off the distraction and resumed her streak of makes. She sank the final ball cleanly, then raised a thumb toward Suyeon and Seoha—and toward Nayun, who was still watching.
The score hardly mattered. What mattered was this: Yeoncheong had made nine shots one-handed—the very style Nayun had called all for show.
Was it because of the victor's smile she'd aimed at Nayun? Or the competitive fire born from being challenged?
While Yeoncheong was still savoring her private victory, Nayun came up to her.
"Hey, Ha Yeoncheong. One-on-one. Right now."
It was a brash, straight-up challenge.