Hearing Kota's comment, Araki frowned slightly.
This kid's mouth really doesn't stop.
"Bring it on."
Without another word, she dropped into a low defensive stance.
Talent Activated: Big Man Bully Playbook
(Araki – 5'7" , 55kg)
Been a while since I felt this…
Kota felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him.
Ever since the Interhigh finals against Rakuzan, he didn't think he'd get a chance to trigger this skill again so soon.
He threw a few triple-threat fakes. Araki kept her balance flawlessly, which didn't bother Kota. If she were just another weak scrub he could blow by, this one-on-one wouldn't even be worth it.
After a convincing shot fake, Kota immediately drove to the basket, brushing past Araki's reaching arm. Boosted by his talent, his drive felt smoother than ever.
"Huh?"
Araki made a small sound of surprise. Instead of staying in front of him, she looped behind — one of the classic tricks for smaller players guarding bigger ones: the sneaky back tap.
Danger Sense
Just as Kota got half a step ahead, a chill ran up his spine. Instincts kicked in, and he switched the ball from his right to left hand in one swift motion, dodging the steal and finishing with a soft finger roll.
Araki didn't even bother to recover. The back tap was a gamble anyway — either a highlight or a blow-by.
"Again. First to three."
She returned to her spot, calm as ever.
Kota didn't say much. It was a one-on-one, sure — but it was still part of training.
Next two possessions? Kota scored again. Danger Sense plus his Big Man Bully? Unfair combo.
After the third basket, Kota turned to see Araki already scribbling in a notebook. Who knows what top-secret coach notes she was writing down.
"Seventeens. Start."
('Seventeens' means running from sideline to sideline 17 times)
Before Kota could even catch his breath, Araki blew her whistle again.
"Lady, would it kill you to wait two seconds before blasting that thing?" Kota cursed internally, but his body was already moving.
Araki tracked him with a stopwatch, brow furrowed.
"How did this guy explode so fast during that drive?"
Beep.
Stopwatch: 1 minute 15 seconds.
Below average. For a pro guard? Downright terrible.
Before Kota could gasp for air, Araki's icy voice rang out again — strangely beautiful, yet deadly cold:
"Two-minute break. Next set."
"Wait, what? There's another round of this?!"
Kota was stunned. He thought basketball training meant jump shots and flashy iso moves—not running himself into an early grave.
Araki couldn't care less. Even for pro athletes, the basics and conditioning were 90% of training. Stamina was a non-negotiable.
Beep.
And the second set began.
This time was worse. Kota had never been an endurance guy. Back in Kaijo, he had Kise to back him up — he could pick his moments. Now? No one to save him.
1 minute 24 seconds.
Kota's legs felt like wet noodles. All he wanted was to collapse. But Araki's voice came again:
"Two minutes. Next set."
"Demon… She's a demon in human form…"
…
Spinning a pen in her hand, Araki reviewed the numbers in her notebook.
Seventeens – Set 1: 1:15 Set 2: 1:24 Set 3: 1:49
You could describe this performance in many ways — and none of them flattering.
And yet, this same guy just blew past her with ease and dodged her steal attempt like he saw it coming.
Her expression was hard to read, but the doubt in her eyes was clear. From what she could tell, Kota's physical stats shouldn't allow him to move like that.
"Ten minutes. I'll be back."
She nudged the collapsed Kota and handed him a banana, then walked out, off to who-knows-where.
Lying flat on the court, Kota peeled the banana slowly, spacing out.
"Do I really have to join the national youth team…?"
…
Ten minutes flew by.
Right on time, Araki returned, looking like her brain had a built-in alarm clock.
"Your turn to attack."
She tossed him a ball and got into her defensive stance again.
Kota didn't say a word—just drove straight at her. This time, Araki didn't go for the steal. She just watched him drive, then pulled out her notebook and started writing again.
Kota couldn't help but peek. He'd been dying to see what was in that thing.
Height: 182cm
Wingspan: 180cm
Weight: 71kg
Strength: Poor
Speed: Average
Dribbling: Good
Shooting: Average
Stamina: Poor
Basketball IQ: Good
Defense: Poor
Player type: High IQ, physically underdeveloped, weak athletic ceiling. Pure point guard.
Training Focus: Athleticism, defense.
Special Trait: Physical performance spikes in real matches. A game-time player?
She had just jotted down that last line.
Kota read each word carefully, then asked,
"How do you know so much about my physical condition? Did coach Takeuchi give you this?"
Araki casually tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Kota swore he saw the tiniest trace of smugness on her otherwise expressionless face.
"Can't you tell just by watching someone?"
Kota chuckled.
"Well, your eyes might need a tune-up."
He pointed to the Defense: Poor line and said confidently,
"My defense isn't that bad!"
After getting the Target the Weakest Link after the finals, Kota was no longer the human traffic cone he once was.
Araki stayed calm.
"That data's from Kaijo vs. Yosen. What, you suddenly became a lockdown defender in just one month?"
For a normal person? No way.
Too bad Kota had cheat codes.
"Why don't we find out?"
He tossed the ball to Araki and gestured for her to come at him.
She tucked her hair again. Her face was still blank, but Kota was pretty sure he'd annoyed her a little.
"Did I make her mad…?" He laughed. "Welp. Too late to apologize."
Araki went straight into her dribble. Lacking the physical edge, she used deceptive crossovers to shift his balance.
Here we go.
Kota's eyes narrowed.
Target the Weakest Link
Even though this wasn't a real match, the skill triggered as long as the opponent was the "lowest scorer on the team" — even if there was only one person.
With his defense buffed, Kota held his stance perfectly. Araki's slick ball handling couldn't fool him.
She frowned slightly — another surprise. According to her data, Kota's defense shouldn't be this sharp.
After a while, with no clear opening, she pulled back to go for a step-back jumper.
Kota's eyes lit up. High basketball IQ + buffed defensive stats? That's all he needed.
He stepped up, timed her movement, and — smack! — swatted the ball back with a clean block.
"Not bad for a 'poor defender', huh, Miss Masako?"
"…Hmm? Miss Masako, what are you looking for—wait, hold up—why are you pulling out a katana?! WHOA! Hey now! Let's not get crazy! We can talk this out! I PROMISE TO RUN SEVENTEENS!"