The heavy wooden doors of the Toshigawa's gym creaked open, releasing a gust of cool air that smelled faintly of polish and sweat. The echo of sneakers squeaking against the floor bounced across the wide court before the players had even stepped inside. Afternoon light streamed in through the high windows, painting golden stripes across the polished hardwood.
The players trailed in, voices overlapping, a basketball dribbling between hands, energy already buzzing before practice had officially begun.
"Alright, line up," Nanaho's firm voice cut through the noise. She strode in behind them, clipboard tucked under her arm, hair tied up neatly. Her eyes swept over the group, sharp and steady, the kind of gaze that demanded attention without needing to shout.
At her side, Tomoe silently wheeled a cart stacked with towels, bottles of water, and a small medical kit. She didn't say a word, only set things neatly by the bench, her presence calm and quiet as always.
The players stretched in a loose row across the baseline. Yukio stood in the middle, posture straight, setting the example. Beside him, Takahiro rolled his shoulders with an experienced calm. Liam hummed cheerfully, reaching down for his toes with surprising flexibility for such a massive frame.
On the far end, Noboru groaned. "Tch… stretching again? Can't we just get straight to drills already?"
"Shut it and touch your toes," Makoto muttered beside him, not even glancing up. His voice carried the same sharp edge it always did, words more like a jab than advice.
"What was that, Makoto?" Noboru snapped, straightening with fire already in his eyes.
"Pretty sure your hamstrings are smarter than your brain."
"Why you—!"
Nanaho's pen clicked against the clipboard. "First warning, both of you. Don't test me today."
Noboru grumbled under his breath but bent forward again. Makoto smirked faintly, satisfied.
"Alright," Nanaho continued, "dynamic stretches first. High knees. Let's go."
The nine players jogged up the court, knees pumping, arms swinging. The sound of sneakers slapped against the wood in sharp rhythm. Liam let out a laugh as he nearly knocked shoulders with Hayato, who shoved him back with a competitive grin.
"Keep it tight, not sloppy!" Nanaho barked. "You're not here for just fun, we all have a goal to achieve."
The drill shifted into side shuffles, then defensive slides, bodies lowering into stance. Sweat already started to bead on foreheads, breaths picking up. Shino trailed near the back, small steps unsure, but he forced himself to keep up.
When they regrouped at the baseline, Nanaho's whistle cut the air. "Layup lines. Two groups. Right side first."
They split quickly—Takahiro leading one line, Yukio the other. The rhythm started: dribble, two steps, up off the glass.
Liam powered through his turn, the ball smacking hard against the backboard before dropping in. "Heh, easy!" he laughed.
"Take it easy Liam, you don't get bonus points for breaking the glass," Makoto muttered when he caught the rebound.
Tadao came barreling in next, ignoring form completely and springing up for a dunk instead. The rim rattled as the ball slammed through.
Nanaho's voice cracked like a whip. "This is a layup drill, Tadao! Do it again, properly!"
Tadao landed with a smirk, sweat already streaking down his temple. "C'mon, coach, you can't expect me to ignore the rim when it's right there!"
"Again. Left hand this time."
He groaned but shuffled back into line.
Meanwhile, Shino stepped up. The ball bounced awkwardly against the floor, his dribble a little too high. He took his steps, jumped—too weak. The ball clanged against the rim and rolled off.
"Next!" Noboru barked behind him, irritated.
Shino's cheeks flushed red, but before he could retreat completely, Nanaho's voice steadied the air. "Shino, don't worry about that miss. You have improved greatly. Try again."
He swallowed, nodded quickly, and circled back to the line.
The drill continued, sneakers squeaking, balls bouncing in steady rhythm. With each pass through, the lines grew sharper. Liam attacked the basket with explosive force. Hayato floated smoothly, left hand as comfortable as right. Makoto slipped in with mechanical precision, each step textbook perfect.
After layups came free throws. The gym quieted, only the sound of bouncing balls and the occasional squeak of shoes. Liam leaned into his shot, form messy but effective—the ball sank clean. He raised his fists. "Still got it!"
Noboru's shot bricked hard, rattling against the rim. "Tch!"
"Try aiming inside the hoop next time," Makoto commented, voice dry.
"You wanna fight, huh?!"
"Ball doesn't lie."
Before Noboru could lunge, Yukio caught the rebound and passed it calmly back to him. "Focus. Shoot again."
Nanaho's pen scratched notes on her clipboard. She didn't interfere this time, only watching, her sharp gaze cutting to every corner of the court. Tomoe stood nearby with the cart, eyes following silently.
Once free throws wrapped up, Nanaho blew the whistle again. "Split into three teams. We're running 3-on-3s."
The boys perked up immediately. Scrimmages meant pride was on the line.
"Team A: Yukio, Makoto, Shino. Team B: Tetsuo, Liam, Noboru. Team C: Takahiro, Hayato, Tadao. First game, A versus B."
They took positions quickly. Shino looked nervous between Yukio's calm presence and Makoto's sharp focus, but Yukio gave him a quick nod. "Just play your part. We've got you."
The ball tipped. Liam won it easily, towering above the rest, and fed it to Tetsuo.
Silent as ever, Tetsuo dribbled up court. His movements were smooth, economical. A sudden pull-up three—swish.
"Too easy," Noboru crowed, already backpedaling on defense.
Makoto clicked his tongue. "He doesn't even call plays? Well, that's Tetsuo for you."
"Stay sharp," Yukio warned, catching the inbound. He drove up the sideline, eyes scanning. Shino shuffled nervously to the wing, hands half-raised.
"Ball," Makoto called, sharp. Yukio fed him. One crossover, a jab step, and he slipped past Noboru to float a mid-range jumper. Clean.
Tch… not bad, Shino thought, a flicker of relief passing over him.
Noboru clenched his fists, already heating up.
The game quickened—Liam used his size to bulldoze inside, while Makoto directed Team A with sharp passes and quick cuts. Yukio's calm steadied them, his drives slicing through gaps. Shino hesitated at first, but when Yukio kicked the ball out to him, he caught, set, and shot.
The ball hit the rim and dropped in.
For a second, Shino froze. Then his teammates clapped his back.
"Not bad," Makoto muttered, as if surprised.
"Keep shooting when you're open," Yukio added with a small smile.
Across the way, Noboru snarled. "No way I'm letting him score again!" He lunged harder on defense, chest to chest with Shino.
The tension escalated until Nanaho's whistle cut the air. "Switch! Team C in."
Takahiro, Hayato, and Tadao jogged in, full of fresh energy.
Hayato squared off against Makoto, eyes gleaming with competitive fire as he dribbled the ball. "Finally, another rematch."
Makoto smirked. "Not much of a challenge but fine, I'll play along."
Tadao immediately demanded the ball, pounding a dribble, muscling his way through. He launched up for a dunk, rim rattling.
"Show-off," Makoto muttered.
"You're just jealous because you'll never know what it feels like to dunk?" Tadao shot back, smirk wide.
Nanaho blew the whistle sharply, halting the scrimmage instantly. Sneakers screeched and balls bounced to sudden stops as all nine players froze in place. She stepped to the center of the court, clipboard pressed firmly against her chest. Her gaze swept over each one, sharp but measured.
"Listen up," she said, voice calm but commanding. "Our first match is four days from now—against Kawako High." Her tone shifted slightly, serious now, cutting through the lingering chatter. "They're not a strong team. Not like us. But don't get complacent. Underestimating them will be a mistake. Every second on the court counts. Every pass, every screen, every rebound matters. You play your best, or someone will exploit the smallest weakness. Understand?"
The team nodded, a mixture of focus and anticipation settling over them. Even Noboru's usual fiery expression was tempered with concentration, and Shino's hands tightened around the ball he held.
Tomoe moved quietly among the scattered balls, picking them up with smooth efficiency. She knelt occasionally to mop the faint streaks of sweat off the floor, her eyes flicking briefly toward the group gathered around Nanaho. Though silent, her presence reminded them all that someone was watching the small details—the things that mattered most.
I was getting tired of waiting, Makoto muttered, voice low, eyes finding Tetsuo in the corner.
"I'm looking forward to that game," Noboru said, clapping a hand onto Tetsuo's back. "You too, right?"
Tetsuo's gaze lifted slowly, meeting Noboru's with that distant, unreadable expression. I guess…
Heck yeah! Tadao pumped a fist in the air, a wide grin splitting his face. "Time to go slam dunk on them!"
"Already? Time's flying way too fast," Shino murmured, shoulders tensing. Nervous energy rippled through him as he adjusted his grip on the ball.
Across the court, Takahiro and Yukio exchanged a brief nod, the silent acknowledgment of their roles in the team. No words were necessary—the understanding was instinctual.
Liam turned to Hayato with a broad grin and a sharp slap of hands. "Let's crush this one!"
Hayato's laugh carried easily across the court, echoing off the polished wood. "Always, big guy."
Nanaho raised her hand, halting the casual celebration. "Alright, team. Four days. That's all the prep you've got. I want intensity, focus, and teamwork every single time you step on this floor. Nothing half-hearted. Understood?"
"Understood!" the team responded in unison, voices a mixture of eagerness and determination.
Yukio stepped forward, voice calm but resolute. "We've got four days. Every drill counts. Every mistake is a lesson. Let's make sure we're ready and reach the interhigh."
"Yes, Captain!" the team echoed, voices strong and unified. The energy in the gym shifted immediately. What had been casual chatter and playful jabs now carried focus and determination.
My first match, huh, Tetsuo muttered to himself, his lips parting slightly as he stared at his hands.