Right before the ref was about to blow that whistle and kick off the practice game, this dude just peeled himself off from the Motijheel High team huddle and started heading straight for Kiyoshi and the rest of the Banani High squad. Turns out it was Salman, their captain. This guy radiated 'effortless cool' like it was his actual job.

  He just oozed athletic vibes, you know?

  The way he moved was pure swagger, like he'd been winning since kindergarten. Jersey? Immacute. Hair? Perfectly styled.

  Honestly, he looked like he’d stepped straight out of a magazine, especially compared to some of the Banani guys who were rocking the more 'functional' and slightly wrinkled look. Let’s just say some of them looked like they’d rolled out of bed five minutes ago (no judgment, just retable).

  Everyone knew about Salman.

  Word on the street was, he wasn't just crazy good on the court – like, scoring machine, lockdown defender, born leader kinda good – but also… let’s just say his ‘self-belief’ dial was cranked all the way up to eleven. Sometimes, it tipped over into straight-up arrogance. He was basically Motijheel High basketball in human form: slick, powerful, and convinced they were kings of the court.

  Salman sauntered over to Kiyoshi like he was walking onto a runway, not a basketball court. He had a ball spinning on his finger like it was glued there – total show-off move, but you gotta admit, kinda smooth. He scanned the Banani team with this look that was almost… dissecting? Like he was sizing them up for weaknesses or something.

  When he finally spoke, his voice was all smooth and confident, that tone that screams, "Yeah, I'm in charge here, deal with it."

  “You’re Kiyoshi, right?” Salman stated, and it was definitely a statement, not a question. Dude wasn't asking for confirmation, he was announcing it. He locked eyes with Kiyoshi, a tiny smirk pying on his lips like he already knew how this whole thing was going to py out.

  “Salman, Motijheel captain.” He stuck out his hand for a shake, but it felt more like a command than a friendly gesture. Like he was saying, 'You will shake my hand, peasant.'

  Kiyoshi took his hand, grip firm and steady. He wasn't going to let Salman's swagger intimidate him. He met Salman's confidence head-on but without the unnecessary arrogance.

  “Yeah, I’m Kiyoshi. It’s good to get a game against Motijheel finally.” He kept it simple and polite, but you could tell he wasn't backing down.

  “Good for you, maybe,” Salman chuckled, letting his smirk spread a bit wider. He pulled his hand back and went back to spinning the basketball like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. “Look, no offense or anything,” he started, which, let’s be real, is always code for ‘major offense incoming,’ “but we’re basically just treating this game as, like, a light jog before the real deal – the inter-school tournament.

  You guys are… well, you’re Banani High.”

  He let the name hang in the air like it was supposed to mean something profoundly obvious. The unspoken message was loud and clear: Banani High? Cute.