BEEP!
The whistle cut through the gym. The referee stopped the game instantly.
"Ahh—! It hurts!" groaned Victor Uozumi, clutching his face. When he fell, he hadn't had time to protect himself and smashed it painfully against the hardwood. His grimace twisted with pain… until he glanced forward.
And froze.
On the floor in front of him, sprawled in shock, was Charles Ackerman… pantsless. Shorts and underwear both had been yanked off in the tumble.
Victor's heart plummeted. Oh no. I didn't just—
His stomach churned. Accident? Catastrophe.
Charles blinked awake, realized his situation, and immediately scrambled to pull his shorts back up, face flushed scarlet.
Cory Grant rushed over to help, but his angle… was unfortunate. His jaw dropped—eyes briefly caught something private. Horrified, he spun away, ears burning red. I did NOT just see that… He quickly glanced at his pinky finger for "size comparison" and nearly groaned aloud. Nope—never again.
Thank God Aida Hikoichi isn't at Ryonan yet, Cory thought darkly. That loudmouth would've written this down and shouted "Unbelievable!" all over town.
From the stands, Hannah Ackerman and Emily Fujii turned as red as tomatoes, hands clamped over their eyes, terrified of getting a stye from the sight.
Meanwhile, Maya Matsen clasped her hands cheekily and stared without shame. "Oooh."
On the court, Charles finally stood, breathing hard, his fists trembling.
"YOU! Did you do that on purpose or was that 'an accident'?!" he roared at Uozumi, blood pounding. His eyes were wild, muscles tight with rage.
Victor's entire body shook. "I-I… I swear! It was just… an accident! I didn't mean to!"
"You think I'll believe that?!" Charles snarled, arm cocked back like he might swing.
Victor's voice cracked, almost pitiful. "Please! It was a slip! I—I didn't do it on purpose!"
The Ryonan players exchanged horrified looks. Their captain, Yusaku Ozawa, sighed and stepped forward.
"Charles, I understand how humiliating this must be. But please—believe me. Victor didn't mean to. It was clumsy, reckless, yes, but not intentional." He bowed deeply. "On his behalf, I sincerely apologize."
"Terribly sorry!" Victor stammered, bowing his head to the floor.
Charles glared for a long time, chest heaving. Finally, he exhaled and lowered his fist. "Fine. Once. But never again!"
Victor nearly collapsed with relief. "Y-yes. Thank you."
The referee pointed. "Technical foul! White #15!"
The gym buzzed.
FIBA rules: a technical foul meant two free throws and possession. If Victor picked up another, he'd be ejected.
Charles stepped up to the line, cheeks still flushed. He dribbled the ball twice.
CLANG! The first free throw ricocheted off the backboard hideously. Not even close.
He closed his eyes, breathing deep to calm himself. Forget it. Focus.
Second attempt—he released—
THUNK. Airball.
Three no-sticks.
The gym went dead silent. The humiliation doubled. For Charles, this was absolute rock-bottom.
From the sideline, Cory clapped his shoulder gently. "Don't let it eat you. Stay sharp, Charles!"
Shohoku retained possession. Daniel Irving inbounded, feeding Cory beyond the arc.
Perhaps still distracted, Ozawa sagged two steps off defensively, daring him.
Cory smirked. You shouldn't have given me this space. Catch. Fluid rise. Release.
Swish! The net exploded pure.
The bench erupted. Ozawa's jaw tightened. So he can shoot threes too.
Beep!
Coach Tian immediately called timeout.
When play resumed, Uozumi was benched, and Toyo Inoue stepped in at center.
Victor slumped down, relief oddly etched into his face. He was embarrassed, shaken, and even grateful to sit. The incident with Charles still weighed heavy. I… I can't face him now. Please, coach, don't put me back in…
For all his size, strength, and future, at this moment Victor was still just a rookie—green, awkward, still learning.
Narration trailed as commentary:
Charles had years of basketball behind him—since grade school. Victor had only started structured training after entering Ryonan. The gap was enormous.
Yet within two years, Victor would become the #2 center in Kanagawa. Not because of talent—but because of bulldog effort and a responsible coach like Tian forging him day in, day out.
Head-to-head, though? Charles's innate gifts as a true center still outshined him. Even Ozawa had once admitted: Ackerman's scoring under the basket was natural. Defense flawless. A blend of talent and relentless work.
Victor would find his strengths in rebounding, defense, sheer paint presence. But in year one—it wasn't close.
For now, though, all that mattered was this game. And Shohoku was still fighting.