It was about three years ago when it all began—my first day attending Musashi Junior and Senior High School. At the time, I wasn't great at the sport, but I knew the basics and had a good eye for it since I started, said Makoto.
The players moved across the polished wooden court, their shoes pressing and sliding against the floor with sharp squeaks. Each step sent small vibrations through the hardwood, mixing with the steady rhythm of basketballs bouncing. The air inside the gym smelled faintly of sweat and varnished wood, a dry warmth settling under the high ceiling lights.
"Pick up the slack, everyone, and keep in formation! Get into a lower stance!" shouted the coach.
The sharpness in his voice cut through the room like a whistle. The players responded immediately, feet shuffling harder, knees bending lower, muscles tensing beneath their jerseys.
"Yes, Coach!" they replied in unison.
Coach Izanagi's gaze fixed on one player in particular.
"Hidesuke! What the hell are you doing?! Get back in formation — I won't tolerate your mistakes!" he barked.
Hidesuke's shoulders tightened. His eyes darted away for a second, then snapped back with a glare.
"What do you mean by I'm breaking formation? I'm doing the right thing!" he fired back.
Coach Izanagi stepped closer, his face red from exertion, voice rising.
"Are you the one watching from courtside? Shut up and do what I say!"
Hidesuke's jaw clenched hard enough for the muscles to twitch visibly.
"Screw this. I'm done." His voice was low but firm as he turned sharply.
"I'm out. I've had enough of this crap." His footsteps echoed down the court as he stormed away.
The silence that followed was thick. Shoes slowed their movement, basketballs stopped bouncing. Everyone held their breath.
Coach Izanagi ran a hand through his damp hair and shouted after him, "Stop right there, Hidesuke!"
Hidesuke halted mid-step, tension folding through his shoulders like a coil about to snap. Slowly, his head turned. His jaw worked tightly, eyes dark and stormy.
"What is it, Dad?" he snapped. "What do you want from me this time?"
Coach Izanagi's stern features softened briefly. He exhaled a sharp breath through his nose, then spoke, quieter now.
"I'm sorry for how I came down on you back there. I know it was harsh… but I have to be harder on you than anyone else. If I go easy, they'll all think I'm playing favorites — that you only made the team because you're my son."
Hidesuke looked away, fists tightening at his sides until the knuckles whitened.
"So that's it? An act? Just so the others won't talk?"
"No," Coach Izanagi said firmly. "It's not just for them. You've earned your place — you're a starter, no question. But you have to prove it. Every. Single. Day. So no one ever doubts it… and so you don't either."
A long silence stretched between them, the only sound the faint creak of the bleachers settling and the distant bounce of a basketball from another court.
"Just…" his father added, voice softer now, "don't walk out like that again. Next time… there might not be a way back."
Hidesuke's gaze lingered on the floor, the sweat from his forehead dripping slowly down his temple. After a moment, he nodded slowly.
"…Fine."
Coach Izanagi gave a single nod, turned, and started walking back toward the court.
"Come on. Let's get back to work."
Hidesuke's mouth twitched into a smirk.
"Fine, you win this time, Coach," he said.
As they moved back, Daichi passed the basketball to Basara, who caught it cleanly. The ball pressed against his palm, fingers spreading over the textured surface as he dribbled forward. He stepped hard off his right foot, pushing off the court, and launched a layup. The ball struck the backboard with a solid thud before swishing through the net.
Immediately, the ball was passed to Takumi. Takumi caught it at the three-point line, knees bending as he prepared to jump. The gym filled with the sharp sound of his sneakers scraping the court as he pushed upward, extending toward the rim. The ball left his hand with a firm, clean force and slammed through the hoop with a satisfying dunk.
"Is this guy really a junior high school student?" Daichi asked, eyes wide, as the ball bounced between players.
Basara watched Takumi step back, chest rising and falling quickly from the exertion.
"I'm so glad he transferred here. He's truly a prodigy, and only in his second year at that," Basara muttered to himself, the weight of the ball familiar in his hands as he dribbled.
Makoto took a step back, studying the team with a measured gaze.
"So, this is the great Musashi Junior High School basketball team, rumored to be the best defensive team and ranked in the top seven of the best teams," he thought quietly.
Basara glanced over at the gym doors as more players trickled in.
"Looks like the first years are here. Perfect timing," he said.
Daichi's voice rose over the court noise.
"Coach Izanagi, Captain, the first years are all geared up and ready."
Coach Izanagi wiped sweat from his brow and nodded.
"That's good. I was expecting a few more, but ten will do."
The new players lined up near the sideline. The bounce of their basketballs was uneven as nerves mixed with anticipation.
"Everyone, line up and introduce yourself, your data, and whether you've played basketball or not," Coach Izanagi said.
One by one, they stepped forward.
"My name is Yasuhiro Nakano. I'm one hundred and seventy-five centimeters and weigh one hundred and fifty-eight pounds. I have no experience with the sport, but I am willing and eager to learn how to play," said Yasuhiro, voice steady but cautious.
"My name is Ko Yamazaki, one hundred and seventy centimeters, one hundred and fifty pounds. I played a little basketball with my older friends, so I've caught the gist of it to some extent," said Ko, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"Makoto Kurai, I'm one hundred and sixty-two centimeters, one hundred and forty pounds. I gained all my experience from streetball and some guys who taught me. I'm not here for games, and I really want to win and be known. I don't want anyone holding me back, especially my seniors," said Makoto, voice firm and eyes sharp.
"You sound pretty confident. You'll get to prove yourself in due time. And lastly?" said Coach Izanagi.
The final boy stepped forward, shifting nervously.
"U… um, m… my na… name is Shino Kat… Katsuragi. I'm one hundred and sixty-seven centimeters and one hundred and forty-four pounds. I have no prior experience with the sport, but I really want to learn. I think it's cool," Shino stammered, his hands fidgeting at his sides.
Basara laughed softly, shaking his head.
"Is this some kind of joke? Look at him. He's so timid and shy. He stands no chance of making it in this sport," Basara said loud enough for others to hear.
Daichi stepped forward, voice sharp.
"Just do yourself a favor and give up on this sport. Go ahead and join a different sport more suited for losers like you. Tennis is perfect."
Shino swallowed hard but held his ground.
"No! I really want to play this sport. I'll play hard and train hard until I'm good enough."
Coach Izanagi cut in, eyes cold and voice clipped.
"Listen, kid, I don't have time to waste on people who are soft. I'm training strong-minded people to compete, not some shy kid. The door is there, so please leave."
Makoto muttered under his breath, watching.
"This coach is really as harsh as they come. Just listen to him and leave."
Shino's shoulders squared.
"I won't leave. I love basketball too much to just give up on my dreams. I'll train hard, and one day I'll become a good player."
Coach Izanagi pointed at the others.
"Suit yourself, but don't come crying to me when you don't get any play time for the rest of the three years you're here.
Basara, Daichi, teach these eight players how to dribble and let them all do it. Well, seven of them. You can just give this one a ball and put him in a corner. I don't have time to waste on him."
Hidesuke and Takumi stepped forward.
"You'll be playing two-on-two against Makoto and Ko."
Ko glanced nervously at Makoto.
"But that's unfair! They are way better than us."
Coach Izanagi cut him off.
"I decide if it's fair or not. Plus, Makoto here is really overconfident. Let's see if he can back his words."
Hidesuke shook his head slightly, muttering.
"I don't know what my dad is trying to prove by making us play against these kids."
Takumi cracked his neck and smirked.
"Well, this sucks. More bugs to squash. I'll mark Ko."
The court was quiet except for the echo of their shoes and the faint bouncing of the ball.
"The game is to seven. You can begin when you're ready," the coach said.
Hidesuke passed the ball to Makoto with a slight grin.
"Since you are first years, I'll give you the ball first. I'm a generous person, aren't I?"