The sharp squeak of rubber soles echoed across the polished wood floor, blending with the rhythmic thumps of a basketball as it ricocheted between eager hands.
The after-school gym buzzed with energy—grunts of exertion, sneakers scuffing in short bursts, the occasional swish of net. The team was running a demanding three-player drill designed to push their stamina and sharpen their passing reflexes.
Yukio started with the ball at center court. With a clean snap of his wrists, he passed it to Takahiro and sprinted behind him, sliding into position.
Takahiro caught the pass mid-step and, without slowing down, fired the ball to Hayato. He then dashed behind Hayato in a blur of movement, barely giving himself time to breathe.
Hayato wasted no time. The ball hit his palms with a satisfying smack, and in the same motion, he pivoted and passed it back to Yukio.
Yukio, already anticipating the movement, flung it toward Takahiro again. The pass was low but crisp, and Takahiro lunged, caught it cleanly, and slashed through the paint toward the basket.
One step. Two. He went up, gliding past the imaginary defender, and finished with a smooth layup.
The ball kissed the backboard and dropped through the net with a satisfying swish.
Takahiro exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling as sweat rolled down his temple. He tugged at his shirt, swiping it across his forehead before flashing a quick grin.
"You're keeping up better than I expected, Nakajima. Not bad at all."
Yukio slowed his jog as he came up beside him, his sneakers squeaking lightly against the court. His eyes flicked down toward Hayato's ankle before settling back on his face.
"And even after going through that serious injury… how's your leg holding up now?" he asked, his voice carrying both concern and curiosity.
Hayato shifted his weight, rotating his ankle in a small circle as if to prove his point. The faint squeak of rubber on wood followed his movement.
He straightened, a confident grin spreading across his sweat-damp face.
"It's good! Honestly, feels like it was never broken at all. I'm fully healed—ready to go anytime."
Takahiro gave a short laugh, his breath still uneven from the drill. He leaned over and bumped his shoulder lightly against Hayato's, a sly grin tugging at his lips.
"Oh, I see. In that case, you'll probably survive Nanaho's brutal training sessions."
Hayato let out a short chuckle, shaking his head as he wiped the sweat from his cheek with the back of his hand.
"Don't jinx it."
Yukio stepped forward, his sneakers thudding firmly against the court. He clapped his hands together, the sharp sound echoing through the gym and catching everyone's attention.
"Alright, guys—let's run it again. This time, Hayato's the finisher."
Both teammates gave a firm nod, sneakers squeaking as they shuffled back into position for the next rotation. Their breathing was steady but heavy, sweat dripping down onto the polished floor.
From the sidelines, Nanaho raised her clipboard slightly, her voice carrying over the bouncing balls and echo of footsteps.
"That's the spirit, guys! Keep it up!" she called out, her tone sharp yet encouraging.
Away from the fast-paced drill, the steady thump of a lone basketball echoed near the bleachers.
Shino bent slightly at the knees, palms spread wide, eyes locked on the ball as he concentrated on keeping a consistent dribble.
The gym's ambient noise—squeaking shoes, distant laughter—faded around him.
"Fukazawa-senpai, am I dribbling it right?" he asked, his voice tense but eager.
Nanaho stepped closer, arms crossed as she watched his movements carefully. Her eyes tracked the slight wobble in his wrist.
"Not bad," she said, tilting her head. "Your form's a little crooked, and your wrist is a bit stiff—just relax. But keep at it. You'll improve."
She flashed him a quick thumbs-up, her lips curving into a faint, encouraging smile.
"I see! Thank you so much!" Shino exclaimed, his face brightening, eyes sparkling with renewed determination.
He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, the ball dribbling in rhythm with his excitement.
Nanaho stepped behind him, her hands lightly resting on his shoulders as she guided him.
She straightened his posture, feeling the tension in his back ease slightly under her touch.
"Here, let me help," she said softly. "Keep your back like this, and hold your off-hand up—like you're shielding the ball. That way, you train your muscles to fend off defenders. And keep your chin up; you need to see the whole court."
Shino adjusted, taking a careful breath as he followed her instructions, the ball bouncing steadily between his hands.
"Like this?" he asked, tilting his wrists slightly and shifting his stance, eyes flicking up to meet hers for confirmation.
Nanaho nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yes, much better. Keep it up!"
Her voice carried encouragement, warm but firm, as she stepped back slightly to let him practice independently.
Just a few feet away, the harsh slap of a basketball against the polished floor echoed in sharp bursts, mixed with Noboru's ragged breaths.
He paced in tight circles, sneakers squeaking with every step, jaw clenched and brow furrowed with frustration.
"Damn it!" he muttered, slamming the ball down hard.
It bounced once before skidding across the floor. "Why am I stuck doing basics? I should be out there with the main group—not cornered here, dribbling like some rookie!"
He jabbed a finger toward Shino, eyes narrowing into a glare.
"I can't take this anymore! Why am I forced to do drills with this amateur?!"
Shino froze mid-dribble, the ball bouncing sharply against the floor as his stomach knotted.
Amateur? Is he… talking about me?
His cheeks warmed, a mix of embarrassment and hurt flashing across his face.
Nanaho let out a long sigh, shifting her weight as she turned to face Noboru, arms crossed firmly.
"Haven't we gone over this already?" Her gaze was sharp but calm. "You need to master the fundamentals before you can play effectively. Right now, you lack control."
"My dribbling's fine! I don't need to work on it—look!" Noboru snapped, dropping into a flashy stance.
He attempted a between-the-legs dribble, but the ball slipped from his hands, bouncing sharply before rolling across the floor.
His sneakers squeaked as he lunged to catch it, frustration flashing across his face.
Nanaho pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a quiet exhale.
"See? That's exactly what I mean. You can't just skip steps. Learn to control the ball properly, and turnovers like that won't happen."
Her eyes flicked to Shino, then back to Noboru, the patience in her posture only thinly veiling her exasperation.
The ball bounced once, then came to a gentle stop at someone's feet.
Tetsuo.
He bent down to pick it up, fingers brushing the smooth surface before casually flicking a stray strand of hair from his forehead. His movements were calm, measured, almost effortless.
All eyes in the corner of the gym shifted toward him.
"Oh—it's Kawaguchi, the main talk of Class 1T. Why are you here?" Noboru asked, eyebrows raised in surprise, a hint of disbelief in his tone.
Shino blinked, the ball still clutched in his hands. Kawaguchi? What… is he doing here?
Nanaho's lips curved into a faint, welcoming smile.
"Oh, Kawaguchi! What brings you to the gym?" Her clipboard was tucked under one arm, the other hand relaxed at her side.
Tetsuo passed the ball back to Noboru with a simple flick, eyes forward, then shifted to face the group, his expression calm and unreadable.
"I'm here to join the basketball team."
Tetsuo's voice cut through the gym, calm and measured.
The dribbling abruptly stopped. Sneakers squeaked as players froze mid-motion, eyes snapping toward him.
Yukio's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He stepped forward, the quiet of the gym amplifying each movement.
"I thought you had a lot of responsibilities at home. What changed?"
Tetsuo tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable.
"Let's just say… my passion for the sport influenced me to join. And leave it at that."
Yukio studied him for a long beat, then nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"That works for us. Doesn't really matter why you're here—I'm just glad you are."
He extended a hand, firm and steady. "Welcome to the team, Tetsuo Kawaguchi."
Tetsuo took Yukio's hand with a firm grip, eyes locking for a brief moment—a silent understanding passing between future teammates.
Nanaho's lips curved into a faint smile as she watched the exchange. She shifted her weight slightly, clipboard pressing lightly against her side.
The captain is trying to hide it, but he's practically boiling with excitement. Maybe this year… you'll achieve your dream, Yukio…
"So, you're the first-year who wanted to be our manager this season?" Yukio asked, a curious smile tugging at his lips. "Nice to meet you! I'm Yukio Hamaguchi. And you are?"
"Nanaho Fukazawa," she replied calmly.
"I see… What a nice name—it really suits you! Well, let's do our best, Fukazawa."
No… We will definitely make it this time—now that he has help, Nanaho thought to herself, a spark of determination flashing in her eyes.
"Hey, Tetsuo! It's been a couple of days, hasn't it?" Hayato called out, jogging lightly in place, the ball thumping softly against the floor with each bounce.
Tetsuo tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable.
"You and your class did great during the mini-tournament. I'm looking forward to playing alongside you."
Tetsuo stared for a moment, then spoke in his calm, even tone.
"I'm sorry, but… who are you?"
Hayato's face fell, shoulders slumping just a fraction.
"Huh?! You already forgot about me…?"
Tetsuo bent down to adjust his training shoes, testing the grip as he stood. The cushioning felt perfect, snug yet flexible against his feet.
He flexed his toes, the soles pressing evenly against the polished floor.
They fit perfectly… My sister sure knows a lot about shoes, he thought, recalling the conversation with Usagi:
"Big brother, your feet are so big the store owner barely had any shoes that fit!" she had giggled.
"My feet aren't that big for my height."
"I wear a six and a half, so compared to mine, they're huge!"
"Well… I guess that's true."
"Wait! This one looks perfect, doesn't it? Green and black! So cool!"
"That pair is durable and flexible—ideal for a young athlete like yourself," the store owner had said. "Shall we ring it up?"
"Yes. I'll take them."
"Good choice. Spend your hard-earned money on yourself sometimes."
"I'll definitely put them to good use. Thanks, Usagi."
Back in the gym, Yukio clapped his hands lightly, refocusing the group.
"Before we continue, can you show me that shot you made during gym class?"
"Yes! I'd like to see it again too," Hayato added, bouncing the ball lightly as he stepped back.
Tetsuo moved calmly to the top of the key, planted his feet, and took a single controlled bounce. He rose, releasing the ball with perfect form.
Swish.
The net rippled crisply—no rim, no hesitation. The ball sank as if it knew exactly where to go.
"No matter how many times I see it…" Yukio whistled, eyes wide. "I can't believe how perfect your form is."
"The sound the ball makes hitting the net… it's different," Hayato murmured, eyebrows slightly raised. "Not even my shot sounds like that."
Tetsuo didn't respond. He retrieved the ball smoothly and passed it to the next player, expression calm and unreadable.
From the corner, Shino clenched his fists tightly around his basketball, knuckles whitening.
Tetsuo is… truly amazing. He scored that effortlessly…
He took a deep, steadying breath and resumed dribbling with sharp focus.
I will train harder. I will not lose to him. I will be better.
"Oh, hell yeah! We'll definitely be a stronger team now that he's here!" Noboru exclaimed, punching the air despite his earlier frustration.
Yukio clapped his hands once. "Alright, everyone! Back to training!"
The gym erupted again with the squeak of sneakers, the bounce of basketballs, and the chorus of laughter echoing beneath the high ceiling.
And just like that, practice resumed—with a new team member, a reignited goal, and the unspoken promise of greatness.