Ryan Shadows

挨拶

The locker room still smelled like sweat and victory—loud voices bouncing off the tile, laughter sharp with adrenaline. My teammates were already buzzing about the bar, hyped to celebrate the win with shots and bad karaoke. I shoved my jersey into my bag, only half-listening, more focused on the dull throb in my shoulder and the itch to get out of the humid mess of the room. By the time we filed out, the cool night air felt like a relief against my skin.