Tetsuo dribbled the basketball down the court during transition, each dull thump echoing across the hardwood in steady rhythm. His sneakers gripped the polished floor with short squeaks as he cut across the lane and swung the ball to Takahiro.
The pass hit clean, but Yukio was already there, sliding in tight with quick, controlled footwork.
"Damn, Yukio's defense is tough," Takahiro muttered as he stepped back. The ball bounced once against the floor before he pivoted and sent it back to Tetsuo.
Hayato stepped forward to challenge him, planting himself just beyond the arc. Sweat gathered along his brow, one bead slipping down his temple as he raised his arms and fixed his eyes on Tetsuo.
If shooting threes is all you can do, then you won't make it very far in this sport, Hayato thought, pressing forward and keeping low.
Tetsuo didn't flinch. He adjusted his grip, keeping the dribble low and steady, then eased back a step to square up against Hayato. The muscles in his legs tightened, his body balanced as his eyes traced the spacing and the tilt of Hayato's stance, gauging his center of gravity.
With a sudden crossover to the right, the ball snapped sharply against the floor. Hayato slid in response, feet squeaking as he mirrored the movement.
Tetsuo planted hard on his right foot and spun left, his shoulder and back brushing against Hayato's hip as he slipped past. His left foot struck the floor first, followed by a quick step into the paint. Rising smoothly, he stretched out his right arm and banked the ball off the glass. It hit the backboard and dropped through the net with a clean swish.
On the sidelines, Nanaho's eyes followed every motion without blinking. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her clipboard, knuckles whitening slightly.
He baited Hayato with just a glimpse of his right side, then cut left at the perfect moment. That wasn't luck—that was precision, she thought. Her lips parted before curving into a small, satisfied grin. Yukio was right about this one.
"I guess you're more than just a shooter," Hayato said with a smirk, jogging backward. His sneakers squeaked against the polished floor as he kept pace, chest rising and falling with measured breaths.
This is Tetsuo's first day on the team, so why is he over there training with the captain while I'm stuck doing dribbling drills? This sucks, Noboru thought, his ball thumping unevenly against the floor, each bounce echoing dully in his ears.
His arms felt like lead, drooping between each tap of the ball. We've been at this for hours, and my arms feel like they're going to fall off. Is she seriously that obsessed with basketball? She's so locked in she forgot about us.
Sweat ran down his neck, making the fabric of his shirt stick uncomfortably to his back. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, trying to loosen his stiff shoulders.
My arms are getting tired. How much longer do I have to do this, Fukazawa? He rubbed at his forearms, feeling the tension in his muscles tighten with every movement.
Nanaho blinked and looked up from her notes, the tip of her pen tapping lightly against the paper.
"Oh, right. Training has ended for the day, so all of you can stop now."
"Finally," Hayato muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow. His fingers left streaks across his damp forehead as he stretched his neck side to side. "Phew, that was quite the workout."
"If you think today was a challenge, just wait for tomorrow's training," said Takahiro with a tired laugh, his shoulders sagging as he lowered himself onto the floor for a quick stretch.
"What do you mean by that?" asked Hayato, cocking an eyebrow, his chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths.
"Nanaho might not look it, but she's a great strategist. Her observation skills are insane. Today was just to gauge our fundamentals and endurance. Tomorrow is when she really starts pushing us," said Yukio, kneeling to retie his shoelaces, the fabric of his shorts rustling against his knees as he moved.
Noboru collapsed flat on the court, arms sprawled out, his shirt soaked in sweat and clinging to his back. His chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath sharp and ragged against the quiet hum of the empty gym.
"Stop being so dramatic. It's not like you were actually moving that much," Nanaho said, looking down at him, her clipboard resting lightly against her hip.
"I'm telling you, I can't feel my arms anymore," Noboru groaned, lifting his head slightly only to let it drop again with a heavy thud.
"Well, that's a good sign, I guess," Nanaho replied, unfazed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
"What's that supposed to mean?! You made me dribble for hours! I deserve better than this!" Noboru shouted, his voice bouncing faintly off the gym walls, mingling with the faint squeak of forgotten sneakers and the lingering smell of sweat in the air.
"For the last time, you need the basic skills to function on the basketball court." Nanaho's eyes narrowed, her stance firm, fingers tapping lightly against her clipboard.
"Basic skills? A pro like me doesn't need the basics! As long as I can score and make us win, that's all that matters!" Noboru shot back, tossing the ball lightly with one hand, the damp fabric of his shirt sticking to his back.
Nanaho's gaze sharpened. "I've had it with you. You better come prepared for tomorrow."
Noboru blinked rapidly. Wait… was that a threat? She just threatened me, didn't she?! His chest rose and fell quickly, and he pressed his palms against the floor as if bracing himself.
Shino stood near the baseline, one hand resting on his knee as he caught his breath. His shirt clung to his chest with sweat, legs wobbling slightly from fatigue. Yet his eyes stayed fixed on Tetsuo.
Look at him… he doesn't even look tired. The whole practice, he's just been a step ahead of the rest of us. His shooting, his dribbling, even his passing… He gave the captain trouble, and it's his first day. How am I supposed to catch up to someone like him?
His jaw clenched subtly, but he said nothing, inhaling and exhaling in steady, measured breaths.
"This was quite the training session. Reminds me of the old days," Yukio said, stretching his back with a satisfied sigh, the fabric of his shirt creaking softly as he moved.
"Wait, Yukio, we're not that old yet," Takahiro replied, half laughing, rubbing at the back of his neck.
"Yeah, but everyone always mistakes you for a middle-aged dude anyway," Yukio added with a grin, shoulders loosening as he exhaled.
"…Why did I even bother opening my mouth…" Takahiro mumbled, glancing away with a small shrug.
Nanaho clapped her hands once, the sharp sound echoing across the empty court. "Thanks, everyone, for putting in the effort today. I feel better knowing we actually have a team now. Let's clean up and head home."
"I'm heading this way. See you tomorrow," said Hayato, slinging his bag over one shoulder. He waved casually, the strap rubbing against his sweat-dampened shirt.
"Um, I'm also going that way! Wait up, Nakajima! It's really dark out here!" Shino called, his footsteps crunching on scattered gravel as he jogged to catch up.
"Travel safe, guys," Yukio said, lifting a hand. The faint hum of streetlights buzzed above them, casting pale circles on the pavement.
Later, the train doors slid open with a mechanical hiss. The overhead lights in the cabin flickered briefly as the station name chimed. The metallic scent of the car mixed with the faint warmth from the crowded interior.
"See you at school tomorrow, Takahiro and Kawaguchi," said Nanaho, standing near the exit. The strap of her bag shifted as she adjusted her stance.
"Yeah, I look forward to it," Takahiro replied, shifting his weight slightly as he clutched his bag.
"Take care, guys," Yukio added with a wave, the leather of his backpack strap squeaking faintly as he moved.
As the train pulled away and disappeared down the tracks, Nanaho and Yukio walked side by side under the station's overhead lights, which hummed faintly above them. The air carried a slight chill, brushing against their skin, and the distant rumble of departing trains faded into the night.
"Today was great, wasn't it?" Nanaho said, adjusting the strap of her bag as it shifted against her shoulder. "It turned out even better than I imagined."
"Yeah. The best part was Tetsuo deciding to join. He'll help us a lot moving forward," Yukio replied, his footsteps soft against the concrete.
"I was surprised too," Nanaho admitted, glancing briefly at him. "He was pretty firm about not joining. But now that he has, I feel like we've got a real shot."
"Yeah. I'm certain we can make it to the Inter-High this year."
Nanaho nodded, the soft glow of the lights reflecting off her hair. "We may only have six members now, and the tournament requires seven, but I'm not worried. We'll find another. Besides, with you as captain, Hayato at point guard, and Tetsuo as an all-around weapon…"
She smiled with conviction. "We've got what it takes."
Yukio chuckled lightly, the sound mingling with the quiet hum of the station. "I hope so. It's my last year. I want to go out strong."
"You better," Nanaho said with a teasing grin, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "I've got high hopes for you, captain."
"Now you're making me nervous. That's a lot of pressure to carry."
"Too bad. Deal with it," she said, walking ahead, the soles of her shoes clicking against the pavement.
"I'm heading this way," Nanaho added, pausing at the crosswalk. "See you tomorrow. And don't think I'll go easy on your 'new team.' I'm working them half to death starting first period."
"I wouldn't expect anything less from you," Yukio said, shaking his head with a smile as he watched her disappear into the soft glow of the streetlights. "Time to head home."