Next Day, team meeting. But like, not in some fancy conference room or anything. Nope. We were crammed into the Banani High equipment room. Gmorous? Not so much.

  Seriously though, the room was tiny. Basketballs, slightly defted and looking kinda sad, leaned against one wall, smelling faintly of rubber and sweat. You know, that cssic gym smell.

  Then you had the cones. Stacked all wonky in a corner, like they were toppling over any second. Honestly, an accident waiting to happen. And the air? Let's just say it was THICK. Like, seriously thick. You could practically taste the old gym socks and that weird sports rub smell. Highly questionable vibes, TBH.

  But even though we were basically in a glorified closet full of sweaty sports gear, you could actually feel the excitement buzzing. Weird, right? But yeah, anticipation was definitely in the air, even if the air itself was… highly questionable.

  Kiyoshi standing there, all serious, in front of this totally bnk whiteboard. Like, why even have it there if you're not gonna write anything? It was just vibing, I guess, being white and board-like.

  Anyway, he’s got this clipboard and he's tapping it on his hand, tap tap tap. It’s kinda dramatic, you know? Like he’s about to drop some major truth bombs. Meanwhile, Tahera, bless her organized soul, is straight up perched on an overturned bucket. A bucket! Girl’s commitment to management is next level, I swear. She's got her pen and notepad ready, looking all focused, like she's gonna write down every single word of wisdom. No cap, she’s efficient AF.

  And the rest of the team? Total chill mode. Some were sprawled out on the benches, looking like they were about to take a nap. Others were leaning against the wall, trying to look cool, probably. But everyone’s eyes were glued to Kiyoshi. Like, okay captain, spill the tea.

  Then Kiyoshi finally speaks, voice all clear and steady, cutting through that sweaty gym air. “Alright team,” he says, “Let’s talk about the Motijheel match. Big one, obviously.” He pauses for a sec, letting it sink in, probably to build suspense or something. “We need to, like, actually figure out our game pn, for real this time. And, even more importantly, who’s actually gonna be pying.” He looks around at everyone, making eye contact, you know, the captain thing. Like, I see you, and you better be listening.

  “For starting lineup vibes,” Kiyoshi keeps going, “Point Guard – Ahsan.”

  Ahsan, who was kinda slouching before, suddenly stood up a little straighter. Like, shoulders back, chest out, the whole nine yards. He just nods, all cool and collected. No biggie for him, obviously. Everyone kinda expected it anyway. Ahsan’s the VP, Mr. Reliable himself. Strategist dude on the court, you know? Always thinking five steps ahead. His passes are smooth, his ball-handling is chef's kiss. Solid choice, no cap.

  “Shooting Guard – Arshad.”