The court was quiet, the ball's bounce carrying across the open space before fading into the night air.
A faint breeze brushed across the asphalt, carrying the smell of dust and cut grass from beyond the fence.
Overhead, a single lamp cast a pale circle of light on the worn surface, while the edges of the court sank into darkness.
Tetsuo stood at the center, expression calm and unreadable, as always.
"Oh. We have a practice match coming up." Tetsuo's voice was flat. The ball spun slowly on his finger, the faint scrape against his skin the only sound between words.
Haruko's eyes lit up, her posture straightening. "Really? Against which high school?"
"Yokonan High." His tone remained level, face unreadable.
Haruko blinked, a hint of disbelief in her voice. "Yokonan? They're strong. How can you be this calm about playing them?"
Tetsuo halted the ball, catching it softly in one hand. His expression stayed steady. "I know. But I believe we can beat them. No matter how good they are, they're still human—just like us. There's no reason to be nervous."
The ball rested quietly against his palm, a faint breeze brushing past them across the court. His words weren't loud, but carried a quiet certainty that didn't waver.
Haruko studied him, her small, hesitant smile appearing as her shoulders relaxed slightly.
"Um… would you mind if I came to watch?" She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, eyes flicking up toward him, voice soft, almost shy.
Tetsuo replied. He tilted his head just slightly, his eyes lifting to meet hers at last. "But why?"
"Well…" Haruko twirled a loose strand of hair around her finger, her other hand fidgeting at her side, cheeks warming as she avoided his gaze. "Honestly, I'd love to see my coach in action." She leaned forward slightly, a playful smile tugging at her lips.
Tetsuo paused, raising an eyebrow ever so slightly. Coach?
"So… is that a yes?" Haruko pressed, leaning in just a little, her weight shifting forward on the balls of her feet.
"Alright," he said finally, his tone even, expression unreadable. "But tomorrow's a school day. You'll have to skip to come with us."
"Skipping one day won't hurt. Besides, I have a really reliable friend who'll get the notes for me," Haruko said, giving a little shrug. Her shoes scraped softly against the asphalt as she shifted her weight.
She checked her phone and suddenly gasped. "Oh no—I should get going. I don't want to get in trouble."
Tetsuo's eyes followed her as she shifted on the court, calm and unblinking. "Leaving so suddenly? Did something happen?"
Haruko scratched the back of her neck, a nervous laugh escaping. "Well… I kind of, sort of… snuck out of the house."
"…I see." He studied her for a moment, expression blank. "Before you go, I want to show you something."
Haruko's brow furrowed, eyes widening slightly. "Show me what?"
Tetsuo stepped closer, his movements deliberate. His hands settled lightly on her shoulders, guiding her into place. The contact was casual, but it sent a faint warmth rushing to her cheeks.
"Stand here. On the free-throw line." He adjusted her stance, then straightened. "Play defense. Try to stop me. Pay close attention to my movements."
Haruko swallowed and nodded. "Okay."
The ball hit the asphalt with a steady thump, thump as Tetsuo dribbled toward her. His steps were smooth, unhurried, heels brushing lightly against the worn surface.
She focused, eyes locked on his hips like she'd been taught.
As he picked up the ball and took his first step, Haruko slid instinctively to cut him off.
Then he shifted—a second step in the opposite direction, fluid and precise. She barely registered it before he was past her.
"Wha—?" Her breath caught. She spun just in time to see the ball hit the backboard lightly and drop cleanly through the net with a soft swish.
The ball bounced once on the asphalt, soft and final.
Haruko stared, eyes wide. "How… how did you break my defense so easily? You barely moved!"
Tetsuo retrieved the ball, the rubber brushing softly against his palm. His tone stayed calm, steady. "It's a simple move. A Euro step. Think of it as a variation of a layup. Instead of taking both steps in the same direction, you step in two different directions. It throws defenders off—especially if you can read them."
"I… see." Haruko's voice lowered as she nodded slowly, still watching him. "It really caught me by surprise."
"You can practice it on your own. With time, you'll perfect it." Tetsuo gave her a faint nod, eyes steady.
Haruko's lips curved into a soft, genuine smile. "Thanks. Really. I mean it. Because of you, I did so well in training the other day. I'm sure I'll do even better this season." She slipped her bag onto her shoulder, adjusting the strap. "Oh, and don't forget to text me the date, time, and where we'll meet. See you later."
She lifted a hand in a quick wave before heading toward the gate at the edge of the court, her footsteps tapping lightly against the asphalt.
Tetsuo watched her silhouette disappear beyond the chain-link gate, the faint jingle of it closing carried by the night breeze.
I don't understand… why do I feel so at ease talking to her? His gaze lingered on the empty path. It's almost like I've met her before. She has the same energy as my little sister… maybe that's why.
A sharp sound cut through his thoughts. Clap… clap… clap.
The echo carried across the empty asphalt, each strike of palm against palm deliberate, unhurried. It came from the far end of the court, from the patch of darkness just beyond the reach of the light.
Tetsuo turned, his movements steady, unhurried.
A boy emerged from the shadows. He wore a loose tracksuit jacket left half-zipped, with baggy jeans hanging low on his hips. A thin pendant glinted at his neck, and the light caught on the small stud in his ear. His cream-colored hair was messy but styled just enough to look intentional.
A smirk tugged at his lips, sharp and mocking, though his eyes were flat and cold.
"You're quite the player," he drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Having a girl out here at this hour… I'm jealous."
Tetsuo didn't answer, his gaze steady, unreadable.
"The name's Tadao Hoshiguma," the boy said, his smirk widening as if waiting for a reaction. "I'm sure you've heard of me."
The court stayed quiet.
Tadao tilted his head, clicking his tongue. "Why so quiet all of a sudden? I was just praising you." His eyes flicked toward the gate where Haruko had gone, then back to Tetsuo. "Not bad at all—getting a girl to sneak out of her house this late. That takes skill."
Tetsuo exhaled slowly, the sound even. "We both know that's not why you're here. You were watching the whole time, weren't you?" His gaze fixed on Tadao, cold and unblinking.
A quick glint passed through Tadao's eyes. "You're smarter than you look. Good — saves me some time." He stepped forward, the small pendant around his neck catching the light. His voice lowered, casual but sharp. "In the daytime, you and your little girlfriend can play here all you want. But after dark? This is my turf. So don't come around here after dark again—unless you want trouble. Consider that your warning."
Tadao shoved his hands into his pockets and walked off, the soft scrape of his shoes fading across the asphalt.
Tetsuo's eyes followed him until he disappeared into the shadows. "Unless I want trouble?" he thought, brow slightly furrowed. Do people still say stuff like that?
Meanwhile, Haruko slipped carefully through her bedroom window, fingers lingering on the sill as she pushed herself inside.
She closed it with painstaking quiet, pressing her palm against the frame for a moment before letting out a tiny, shaky sigh of relief.
Click.
The overhead light flicked on, harsh and sudden, illuminating the room and casting long shadows along the walls.
"Where have you been at this time of night?" Sachiko's voice cut through the stillness. Her footsteps approached, soft but deliberate, the faint rustle of fabric marking each step.
Haruko froze, her back stiff, shoulders rising slightly as she hugged herself. "Sachiko…"
She shifted slightly, pressing her arms tighter across her chest, voice sharp. "I missed the part where that's your business."
"It is my business." Sachiko stepped closer, her socks sliding softly across the tatami floor. "You're my younger sister. I have every right to worry about you."
Haruko spun around, fists clenching at her sides, voice rising. "If you really considered me your little sister, you would've backed me up when I needed you the most!"
Sachiko's lips parted, but no words came. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and she dropped her gaze. "…I'm here now. But if Mom and Dad find out—"
"Just leave my room."
"Haruko, I—"
"GET OUT!" Haruko shouted, grabbing Sachiko by the shoulders and pushing her toward the sliding door. The wood frame rattled as she slammed it shut.
Sachiko froze in the hallway, breath caught, eyes wide. That's the first time she's ever been this upset with me… Her hands lingered near her chest, gripping her own sleeves. Is it because I didn't say anything to Father? She wanted me to stand up for her, but I was too afraid. I'm the worst.
Elsewhere, an alarm beeped insistently in the still darkness of another home, slicing through the quiet pre-dawn air.
Takahiro groaned and sat up, pressing the button to silence it. He rubbed his eyes, stretching slowly, the stiffness in his shoulders easing as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. "…So, today's the big day, huh?"
The scent of warm miso soup drifted up from the kitchen below, mingling with the faint aroma of rice. Takahiro's stomach rumbled softly.
"Mom? You're up early," he called, his voice still thick with sleep.
"I woke up to make breakfast for you," she replied from the kitchen, the soft clatter of dishes punctuating her words. Her smile was gentle, the kind that could anchor someone before a big day. "It's the least I can do before your match."
Takahiro paused, touched, leaning against the doorframe as he inhaled the familiar morning scents. "…Did Dad say anything?"
"He wishes you the best. You just missed him," she replied, placing a steaming bowl of soup onto the table.
"The old man really said that?" Takahiro muttered, hiding a faint grin behind his hand.
"You're looking older every day, big brother," a small voice chimed. His younger brother, Chihiro, shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. "Sometimes I mistake you for Dad. Why don't you shave that beard already?"
"Chihiro? You're up too?" Takahiro asked, amused.
"Of course! I stayed up all night just to tell you—don't lose today, big brother!" Chihiro said, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.
Takahiro chuckled, ruffling his little brother's hair. "Thanks, little man."
"Hey! Stop patting my head! I'm not a kid!" Chihiro protested, though a small smile tugged at his lips.
Shino stretched in his room, loosening his arms and legs. The faint light from the window barely cut through the dim room, and the cool pre-dawn air made his skin tingle.
Yokonan High School… no room to slack off, he thought, rolling his shoulders. I need to be ready and help the team however I can.
"Aunty, I'm heading out!" he called, his voice carrying lightly in the still neighborhood.
"Be careful, dear," came her sleepy reply from the doorway. "It's too early for all this…"
Shino stepped outside and began jogging down the quiet streets, each footfall on the damp asphalt steady and rhythmic. Clouds of breath rose in front of him, mixing with the soft rustle of leaves in the occasional gust of wind.
His eyes scanned the empty street, already running through drills and plays he learnt at training in his head.
Across town, Noboru lay sprawled across his bed, chest rising and falling with exaggerated snores. The morning light crept through thin curtains, catching dust motes in slow, lazy spirals. Whatever dream he was having, it definitely wasn't about basketball.
At the riverbank, Hayato stretched, the cool breeze tugging at his sweatpants. The reflection of the rising sun shimmered on the surface of the water, ripples distorting the golden light. He inhaled deeply, the crisp morning air filling his lungs.
I didn't think I'd see him again so soon, he thought with a faint smirk, adjusting his wristbands. I'm looking forward to testing my skills against him.
In his room, Yukio—the captain—gripped a 20-pound dumbbell in one hand, curling it smoothly while the other hand held a book. The faint rustle of pages mingled with the metallic clink of weights as he controlled every motion, his breath even and steady.
Here goes nothing, he thought, lowering the dumbbell with precision. Today, we see how far we've really come.
Back in his own room, Tetsuo sat on his bed, eyes closed. The faint hum of the city outside the window drifted in, mingling with the distant crow of an early bird.
He imagined the court, each step, the bounce of the ball, the rhythm of the game ahead. Drawing in a deep breath, he held it, feeling his chest expand and muscles tense with anticipation.
When his eyes opened, they were calm but sharp, reflecting the stillness of the early morning and the focus that had settled into his shoulders and back.
"…It's time."