Yuze couldn’t bring himself to look up at his father fully. The moment was too overwhelming.
He hadn’t expected this, not after everything. Yet here was Coach Guanyu—no, not Coach—just Guanyu, standing over him with a hand outstretched and calling him ’son’ for the first time in what felt like forever.
A deep breath hitched in Yuze’s throat as he debated whether to take his father’s hand. His mind raced back to the times when Guanyu was more of a coach than a parent, always pushing him, always demanding more, and never satisfied with Yuze’s best.
But something about his father’s eyes… the way they softened, just for this moment, made Yuze pause.
"I’m fine," Yuze muttered quietly, forcing a smile and glancing down at the towel draped over his shoulders. He hoped his confidence would push Guanyu away like it always had before. But the concern on his father’s face didn’t change.
Without waiting for Yuze’s permission, Guanyu crouched down and, with surprising gentleness, scooped Yuze up into his arms. Yuze’s eyes widened in surprise, instinctively embarrassed as he squirmed, but Guanyu’s grip was firm.
"Dad—" Yuze started, his voice more confused than anything. "What are you doing?"
Guanyu didn’t answer immediately, his face set in quiet determination. He carried Yuze as if he weighed nothing, the same way he had once carried him when he was a child—when the world was simpler before basketball had complicated everything between them.
"It’s been a while," Guanyu said, his voice gruff but with a hint of nostalgia. "I don’t think I even did this when you were little."
Yuze flushed, glancing around to see if anyone was watching. The Dogs watched him with smiles before looking away, not wanting to disrupt their moment.
The Knights were also looking on, bewildered, and Yuze caught Max’s eyes for a second before quickly looking away. He could feel his face growing hotter with every second Guanyu held him like a child.
"Dad, I can walk—"
"No, you can’t," Guanyu cut in, his voice leaving no room for argument. "And even if you could, that’s not the point. Just let me do this."
There was something in his tone that silenced Yuze. He wasn’t used to hearing his father talk like this.
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Fabin stood from the seat to ask their coach a question. However, Max held him back and shook his head.
"Fabin," he warned.
Fabin frowned. "What?" he asked. "The team needs coach right now—we’re the ones who lost."
Max sighed. "Coach needs to do something much more than comfort us. Now, come on," he said. "I’ll treat you, guys."
That seemed to do the trick as the boys quickly packed up their bags to follow their star player.
Meanwhile, the father-and-son duo made their way to the infirmary, the sounds of the gym fading behind them. The doctor wasn’t there when they arrived, so they sat in silence for what felt like hours. Yuze’s heart pounded in his chest, the awkwardness between them suffocating him.
Guanyu broke the silence first.
"I’m sorry," he said quietly, staring at the floor, his large hands resting on his knees.
Yuze blinked. "For what?"
"For everything," Guanyu replied, his voice rough with emotion. "For pushing you too hard. For making basketball the only thing between us. I thought… I thought if I trained you hard enough, you wouldn’t make the same mistakes I did."
Yuze frowned, not sure what his father meant. "Mistakes?"
Guanyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I always thought that basketball was the only way for me to be something. I thought if I could make it big, I could change everything. But I failed. And when I saw you… when I saw how good you were, I didn’t want you to fail like I did."
Yuze stared at him, trying to process the words. His father had never spoken like this before. He had never acknowledged his own failures, never admitted that he wasn’t perfect.
"I didn’t need you to be perfect," Yuze said softly. "I just needed you to be there."
Guanyu’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with surprise. For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. Yuze’s words had hit him harder than any loss ever could.
"I thought…" Guanyu’s voice wavered. "I thought I was doing what was best for you. I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you."
Yuze bit his lip, the emotions in his chest almost too much to bear. He had spent so many years resenting his father, hating the way he had turned their relationship into something transactional—success for approval. But hearing his father’s regret now, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes, made that resentment crumble just a little.
"You don’t have to push so hard," Yuze said quietly. "I like basketball, but it’s not the only thing that matters to me."
Guanyu looked at him, his expression softening even more. "Then what does matter?"
Yuze hesitated, glancing down at his hands. He had spent so long thinking that basketball was the only thing that defined him. But now, in the quiet of the infirmary, with his father finally seeing him as more than just a player, Yuze allowed himself to think about the future—about life beyond the court.
"I’ve been thinking…" Yuze started, his voice tentative. "Maybe I want to teach."
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Guanyu blinked, caught off guard. "Teach?"
"Yeah," Yuze nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I mean, I love basketball, but I also love working with people. Helping them get better. Maybe I could be a coach, or… or even teach something completely different."
Guanyu was silent for a long moment, his eyes studying his son. He had always seen Yuze as a basketball player, nothing more, nothing less. But now, hearing him talk about teaching, about helping others… it made Guanyu realize just how much he had missed.
His son was more than just an athlete. He was compassionate, driven, and thoughtful—qualities Guanyu hadn’t fully appreciated before.
"I think teaching is pretty nice, too," Guanyu added with a soft chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.
Then, he reached over, placing a hand on Yuze’s shoulder. "I’ll support you no matter what you decide to do."
Yuze looked up, meeting his father’s eyes. For the first time in a long time, he saw something he hadn’t seen before—genuine understanding. There were no expectations, no demands, just his father finally seeing him for who he was.
"Thank you…Dad," Yuze said.
Guanyu smiled, squeezing his shoulder. "Live your life, Yuze. Don’t let anyone, not even me, dictate what it should be."