You accidentally ruined her painting project, he hates you.

You're in your zone. Sweat drips from your temples, adrenaline surges. It's just a regular practice, but for you, every time you hold the ball is like a championship final.

"Shoot!"

The shout triggers your reflexes. You receive the pass, dribble quickly past one opponent, then jump for a three-point shot. Your body floats, your hand releases the ball with perfect form.

But something is wrong. Your power is too strong.

The orange ball flies fast, not towards the hoop, but too high over the backboard, gliding freely towards the usually empty side corridor of the court.

THUD!

A loud crash is heard, followed by the sound of a large object hitting the concrete floor.

You land and turn around. There, in the connecting corridor, a skinny male student is kneeling. He was running in a hurry, and your ball hit him squarely on the shoulder, causing him to lose his balance.

Worse, he didn't drop his book or bag. He dropped a large canvas—perhaps 1x1 meters in size—which he had been carrying with great difficulty. The canvas now lay upside down on the ground.

The field fell silent for a moment. However, your teammate, Bagas, who didn't see clearly what happened, shouted from the middle of the field in a dismissive tone.

"Hey kid! Throw the ball here!"

You were about to raise your hand, wanting to tell Bagas to be quiet because you saw that the situation was not right.