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Chapter 48 - A FOREIGNER'S PAST; A SEVENTH MEMBER AT LAST

As night came, Liam pulled the door of his residence open, his shoulders sagging under the weight of disappointment and exhaustion. The hallway light spilled across his face as he slowly stepped inside, untying his shoes without looking up.

"I'm home," he muttered, kicking them off and letting out a long, tired sigh.

"Welcome back, Liam. Come on, join us for dinner," called his grandmother from the dining room. The faint scent of grilled fish and miso soup filled the air.

"Yes, I'm coming, Grandma," said Liam, forcing a polite tone as he padded over the tatami floor and slid the door open to join them.

He sat at the low table, feeling the warmth of the room contrast with the cold still clinging to his skin. He reached for the bowl of rice and began eating quietly, the soft clinks of chopsticks the only sound at the table.

"Can I have another bowl of rice, please, Grandma?" he asked, his mouth still half full, voice muffled slightly.

"Wow, you must really be hungry, my boy. Let me get another bowl," said his grandmother as she stood and moved toward the kitchen, her house slippers shuffling softly across the floor.

A middle-aged man, tall and slightly round at the midsection, leaned back in his chair and cracked open a can of beer. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said with a grin, "So, kid, how was training? Are you getting any faster? I can't wait to watch you sprint."

Liam paused. The clatter of his chopsticks resting in his bowl cut through the warm sounds of dinner. He stared down at his rice and said, slowly, "I was wondering, Uncle..." His voice was heavy, and his shoulders subtly tensed.

"What is it? Speak to me," his uncle replied as he tilted his head back and took a long drink.

"Do you think that doing track was the right thing for me? My coach said that I'm way too tall and I can't even break the eleven-second barrier. Recently, I've been getting slower every time I run."

His uncle lowered the can with a small clunk and let out a sigh. "Don't worry about it, Liam, my nephew. Every athlete goes through this phase at least once in their life. You can't let this make you question yourself. What you can do is work harder."

"It's frustrating to give your all and yet still get no results," Liam muttered, his voice low and tight. "Plus, track is getting real boring and lonely."

A long pause stretched between them, broken only by the quiet hum of the overhead light.

"What are you trying to imply?" asked Liam's uncle, his tone sharpening slightly.

"Maybe I'm not cut out for track."

"That's a good one, Liam. You almost had me," his uncle said with a short burst of laughter, shaking his head.

"After talking with my friend earlier, I realized that team sports are more my style. He plays basketball, and he has a lot of fun doing it. I, too, have a lot of fun when I play basketball."

"Basketball? As in the sport where you dribble a ball and shoot it into a hoop? That's a kid's game! Who would ever want to play a sport that's so stupid?" his uncle scoffed, striking a lighter and igniting a cigarette. The sharp scent of smoke immediately filled the air.

"That's it!" Liam's chair screeched backward as he stood and slammed both palms down onto the table, the bowls rattling from the impact. "Disrespect me, my coach, or any other sport as you please, but never make a mockery of Hayato's passion! I will not sit down and listen to you make a mockery of the sport when you know nothing about it. And for your information, I was considering joining the basketball team."

"Lower your voice when you speak to me," his uncle snapped, narrowing his eyes. "I'm surprised you even considered joining that stupid sport. You get zero opportunities, but you'll have plenty of opportunities in track. Isn't it your passion to run? Giving up what you've worked so hard for is just flat-out stupid. Basketball is such a stupid game, isn't it?"

"How can I get any opportunity at all if I can't even run a hundred meters in eleven seconds flat? I didn't join track because I wanted to—I did it to impress you! I wanted you to be proud of me!" Liam's voice cracked under the pressure.

"What?"

"I'm going to my room. Goodnight," Liam said abruptly and walked away. His footsteps thudded across the wooden floor, the door clicking shut behind him.

Silence settled in the dining room.

"To think that all this time, Liam was in track just to impress me," his uncle muttered, staring at the swirling smoke from his cigarette. "I thought that it was his passion. Well, what do you know."

"That is the first time that boy has expressed his feelings to us since he came to Japan," said his grandmother as she stood up with a deep frown. "Looks like all the stress finally built up. He always listened to what you said without a second thought, but now he's grown. I'll go ahead and talk to him, and you, my son, should have noticed this without him telling you. He looks to you as a father figure in his life, so it's time for you to step up to the occasion."

She made her way down the hall and knocked gently on Liam's door. Her eyes were tired but kind. "Liam, can I come in?"

Liam opened the door slowly, his expression softened.

"Listen, kid, and listen well. You should do what you love and what you want to do. It's your choice and not anyone else's, so don't listen to my idiot of a son. I mean, he almost got you and himself killed in the UK by getting mixed up with the British Mafia. He's such a dumbass."

"You're right, Grandma. I've decided what I want to do. Thank you," said Liam, managing a small smile.

"That's good. Be sure to shower before bed because you smell terrible. I don't want to die before my time," she added, waving a hand in front of her nose.

"That was harsh," Liam muttered as he lay back on his futon, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

---

"It's been four years now since I came to Japan, huh?" he said to himself.

The room was dim, lit only by the small lamp on his desk. His fingers curled against the fabric of his blanket.

"I was born and raised in England. My father was a businessman, and he was constantly investing in stocks and other innovations, but he was borrowing from killers and gangs to invest in his business. His ventures failed, and he lost everything. He was in debt to the British Mafia and didn't have the money to pay them, so they killed him.

"After mourning my father's death, I was sent to Mexico to live with my uncle. However, the Mafia caught on to my movement, and two months after I had settled in, they launched an assault on my uncle and me. We somehow managed to escape with our lives.

"We then moved to Japan to live with my grandma to get as far away from the Mafia's grasp as possible. As you can guess, my grandmother is Japanese, and my grandfather was British. My uncle had a dream of becoming a track athlete, but he never went pro, so he forced his dreams on me, and I did not refuse.

"As you can imagine, starting school in Japan was hard. I was way bigger than the children my age, and I was of a different race, which made everyone wary of me. Then there was the difference in our language—I didn't know any Japanese. It was quite lonely. Then I met Hayato. He was the first person who spoke to me, and he taught me the game of basketball and how fun it was."

Liam smiled quietly, remembering.

Good morning, everyone," said Hayato as he stretched.

The gym was faintly lit by the early sun filtering through the high windows. The polished wooden floor reflected the light unevenly, scuffed and worn in places where countless drills had taken place. The air held a mild chill but was quickly warming as the players gathered.

"Oh, good morning, Hayato. Looks like we're all here," said Yukio, wiping sleep from the corners of his eyes.

"I'm so sleepy. I feel like crap right now," said Noboru with a long yawn, his eyelids half-closed and shoulders drooping. His sneakers squeaked sluggishly across the floor as he shuffled toward the baseline.

Coach Nanaho clapped her hands once, sharply. "Alright, everyone, let's get started on our morning training."

" Come on, Shino, you have to get back on defense faster than that" she instructed.

Shino's shoes skidded slightly as he turned on his heel, sweat already forming along his forehead from the warmup drills. "Yes, I'll do better next time," he said, panting lightly.

Hayato jogged backward with a light bounce in his steps, the soles of his sneakers tapping rhythmically against the court. "Hayato, you are too relaxed. You know that your defender is not a threat, but I want you to treat him as if he is," advised Nanaho.

"Okay, I will," Hayato replied, taking a deep breath and tightening his stance.

He crossed over quickly, his shoes letting out a sharp squeak as he shifted directions. Shino reached out instinctively, but Hayato already slipped past him. Hayato drove forward and passed the ball to Tetsuo. Tetsuo caught it cleanly, his fingers gripping the ball with precision.

Tetsuo gave a convincing pump fake. Yukio, biting on the move, jumped into the air. The moment Yukio's feet left the ground, Tetsuo darted past him with two quick steps and pushed off the hardwood for a smooth layup. The ball kissed the backboard and dropped through the net with a soft swish.

"Nice one, Tetsuo," said Hayato, patting his back firmly. The thump echoed faintly in the gym, mixing with the sound of bouncing balls and scuffing soles.

Nanaho crossed her arms and nodded slightly, her eyes tracking their movements closely. "He really took note of what I said. He's constantly improving. This time we'll have a shot at the inter-high. I just know it," she said to herself with a smile.

The echo of firm knocking on the gym's metal door brought a momentary pause to the activity. All heads turned. The sound of the gym echoed slightly before silence settled.

Liam stood at the entrance, his presence commanding attention even before he spoke. His gym bag was slung across one shoulder, and a faint sheen of sweat still clung to his brow from his morning run. His breath was steady, but his jaw was firm.

"It's that foreign student, Liam Ainsworth. What is he doing here?" Yukio said to himself, his voice low but audible.

"Liam?" Hayato blinked, surprise flickering across his face. He stepped forward instinctively. "What brought you here?"

Liam stepped inside, his footsteps measured but confident, the rubber soles of his shoes thudding softly against the polished wood. He stopped in the center of the court and looked each player in the eye.

"I came here to join the basketball team," said Liam with certainty in his voice and a calm steadiness in his gaze.

"No way... Are you serious?" Yukio's voice cracked slightly, his brows raised.

"So that means we have seven players now," said Takahiro, stretching his arms and cracking his knuckles.

"But what about track? I thought that you loved running. Why are you giving it up?" asked Hayato, stepping a little closer. His brows drew together slightly.

Liam glanced down at the scuffed court, then back at his friend. "I'm sorry about that, Hayato, but track wasn't my passion. I only did it so that someone else could be happy."

Hayato's eyes softened. "I see. I'm so glad you decided to join, Liam. You'll be a big help to us."

Liam looked over his new teammates, his shoulders loosening just a bit. "I joined the basketball team because it had what track doesn't—teammates. Teammates who share the same passion as you and are willing to sacrifice it all to win. I also wanted to repay you for that day in junior high. You helped me, and now I'll help you win."

Hayato grinned, his voice firm with camaraderie. "I see. Well, let's do our best, Liam."

"Yes," replied Liam without hesitation.

Nanaho, standing at the sideline with her clipboard in hand, glanced between the two with an almost disbelieving smile. "This is great! We have seven players now. I can't wait for the tournament to start. We definitely stand a higher chance of going to the inter-high now. Yukio looks so happy. I'm glad," she said silently to herself, her grip on the clipboard tightening slightly in excitement.

Outside, the morning sun continued rising, casting golden light through the windows. Inside the gym, the echoes of sneakers, bouncing balls, and sharp whistles filled the air, now with a renewed energy. Liam tightened his laces one last time, then joined the warmups. The slap of ball against hardwood and the chorus of calls and grunts felt different now—this was no longer a sport that relied on a single person's effort.

This was the start of something new.

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