The scoreboard's fluorescent digits glowed above the court: Yokonan 22, Toshigawa 27. The gym was thick with heat, the sharp tang of rubber soles hanging in the air. Sunlight poured through the high windows, throwing long shadows across the polished floor.
In the stands, spectators shifted in their seats, the soft scrape of shoes and occasional coughs blending with the steady hum of the ventilation system.
Kayano pushed the ball forward, his sneakers squeaking against the glossy court.
Ryuu stepped in and planted his feet, setting a firm screen on Hayato. The scrape of his shoes stopped abruptly on the hardwood.
Kayano tightened his grip, darting past Hayato as the ball drummed a steady rhythm in his hands. The crowd shifted and murmured, their noise swelling around him. Sweat glistened on his forehead, catching the sunlight that poured through the high windows.
He drove hard toward the hoop, the open space inviting. But just as he leapt to make the layup, time seemed to slow. His eyes locked on Tetsuo, towering above him midair—an imposing figure silhouetted against the bright daylight flooding the gym. The rough scrape of Tetsuo's sneakers echoed as he rose, hands outstretched.
Kayano's heartbeat thundered in his ears, loud and relentless. Instinctively, before the defender could block the shot, Kayano snapped a behind-the-back pass to Manabu. The ball left his fingertips with a soft thud, spinning through the humid gym air.
Takahiro muttered under his breath, "Oh no." He broke from his marker and sprinted toward Manabu, his footsteps pounding against the court, breath quick and uneven.
Manabu caught the ball, planting his feet firmly as his sneakers squeaked against the polished court. He pushed off the floor, rising for the shot, and Takahiro followed immediately, muscles tensing as he stretched his arms toward the ball.
Manabu flicked his wrist, and the ball sailed past Takahiro's outstretched hands, cutting through the quiet of the gym with a clean, sharp swish.
Takahiro's chest rose and fell rapidly. I was too late, he thought, his breath still uneven as he landed, watching the ball drop through the net.
Eiji's voice cut through the murmur of the crowd. "Now that's what I'm talking about! Nice shot, Manabu!"
Manabu's shoulders relaxed slightly at the praise, the thump of the ball in his hands still echoing in the gym. Around them, spectators shifted in their seats, murmuring and clapping in approval.
Coach Arimoto's eyes stayed fixed on the court, following every movement. Kayano is the best guard a coach could ask for, he thought, watching him weave through defenders. He makes the game flow for us while breaking down the other team's defense. I can relax now—we'll take the lead from here.
Kayano wiped the sweat dripping from his forehead, his fingers leaving streaks across his brow. His eyes stayed locked on Tetsuo, who shifted slightly, sneakers squeaking against the court. It's different playing against this guy than watching from the sidelines, he thought, tension pulling at his shoulders. He's really a threat. Where did they even find him? The near-block still made his chest tighten.
Haruko exhaled, and her breath formed small clouds in the cool gym air. She watched the court intently, thinking quietly, That number six is good. He's fast, and his decision-making is sharp. This game is on a whole different level than I'm used to.
Nanaho bit her lip, her jaw tightening with tension. She shifted her weight on the bench, watching Kayano move across the court. He's making this game a lot more complicated for us. Opening up opportunities for Manabu and the rest of his team… I need to find a way to contain him, or we'll lose our lead.
The ball returned to Toshigawa's hands. Hayato's fingers gripped the leather tightly as he passed to Yukio, who was pressed up against Ryuu in the post. Ryuu shifted his weight, breathing steady, eyes sharp as the two jockeyed for position.
"Bring it on, number seven." Ryuu planted his feet firmly, the scrape of his shoes on the hardwood echoing in rhythm with Yukio's quick, labored breaths.
Yukio eyed the defense, his jersey sticking to his back from sweat. His defense is solid. I can't break through this time. He passed the ball quickly to Takahiro, whose sneakers made barely a sound as he caught it.
Takahiro wasted no time, feeding the ball back to Hayato. Hayato held the ball close, sweat stinging his eyes, as he shielded it from Kayano's fast hands. The faint smell of rubber and the sharp scent of exertion from the players around him filled the air.
Ever since he came on, he's made it difficult for me to see the basket. Sweat dripped from Hayato's headband onto his face as he dribbled, the ball thudding steadily against the hardwood. He angled his body to shield it from Kayano, who stayed low, knees bent, hands moving quickly, shoes scraping softly against the hardwood.
I need an opening… some kind of opportunity, Hayato thought, eyes flicking across the court.
He spotted a slight lapse—a Yokonan player not fully guarding Shino. The gym seemed to hold its breath as Hayato faked a pass to Takahiro, the ball bouncing softly but urgent. Kayano reacted immediately, but Hayato had already pivoted, sending a sharp pass to Shino.
"Shino, catch!" Hayato called, voice steady but tense as Shino reached for the ball.
Shino's hands closed around the ball. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, and his heart hammered in his chest as he focused intensely.
"Don't move—he will pass the ball. Stick to your markers," Kayano instructed, his voice low and commanding, eyes fixed on the offense as his sneakers scraped lightly against the court.
I know I can't score a jump shot like Tetsuo, but I've learned a thing or two these past few weeks. I will not be overlooked, Shino thought, muscles coiled tight as he rose for the shot, sneakers squeaking softly against the court.
Manabu abandoned Tetsuo, leaping toward Shino with arms extended. The sharp whoosh of air followed his jump, but Ryuu's voice cracked sharply through the gym, "Manabu, you idiot! It's obviously a trick!"
Manabu's eyes widened, shock rippling through him. A fake? But how…? His stomach tightened as he realized Shino was still on the floor.
"Tetsuo!" Shino shouted, spinning on his heels and sending a clean pass to the wide-open Tetsuo.
The ball left Tetsuo's hands with a clean flick, cutting through the humid air with a sharp snap. The net rippled as the ball swished through.
"That's it! Atta boy, Tetsuo!" Nanaho cheered, rising from the bench, sneakers squeaking softly against the floor.
"That number eleven is at it again. That's his fourth one!" a Yokonan student shouted, voice rising over the din of the gym.
Coach Arimoto's jaw clenched, muscles tense beneath his skin. "That idiot Manabu fell for that amateur's feint." His fingers tightened briefly on the clipboard at his side.
Kogure watched from the sidelines, sensing the storm in the coach's stance. The coach seems to be boiling with rage. Yeah, training will be more gruesome from here on out, he thought, eyes following Tetsuo as he ran back on defense, a smirk playing on his lips. Well, at least this game is entertaining.
"That's the way to go! Nice shot, Kawaguchi!" Haruko shouted, voice tight with nervous excitement, then let out a relieved sigh.
I guess cheering for someone isn't as hard as I thought. Come on, Tetsuo, you can win this, she thought, gripping the edge of the bench.
Kogure's eyes narrowed. Wait… did she just say Kawaguchi? Where have I heard that name before? He furrowed his brow, searching his memory as the ball bounced across the court.
The rest of the quarter unfolded in a blur of movement and noise. Both teams pushed back and forth, sneakers squeaking and the ball slapping against the hardwood with every play.
Kayano dribbled hard down the court, the thud of the ball steady and controlled. He passed to a teammate, who drove for a layup. The ball hit the backboard and swished through the net, drawing a collective gasp and cheer from the crowd.
Hayato quickly moved the ball to Takahiro, who pulled up for a two-pointer over his defender's outstretched hand. The release was clean and sure; the net rippled.
"Yes! It scored!" Takahiro whispered, racing back on defense, sweat slick along his hairline and dripping down to his facial hair.
Ryuu received a pass near the paint, pivoted sharply, and launched a post shot over Yukio's stretched-out arms, the ball spinning smoothly before dropping through the net.
On the next possession, Hayato dribbled the ball upcourt, and Kayano stepped forward to guard him. He crossed to the left, trying to get past Kayano, but the defender stayed with him. Out of nowhere, Hayato brought the ball up and, unexpectedly, stepped back for a three-point shot. The ball left his hands with a faint whistle through the gym air, catching Kayano off guard.
"It's off! Rebound!" Hayato yelled, shoes squeaking against the hardwood as he turned.
The ball bounced erratically off the rim. Yukio leapt, snatched the rebound mid-air, and slammed it down in a powerful dunk. The rim rattled, and the gym erupted in shocked gasps, with a few Yokonan students cheering.
"Looks like Toshigawa isn't half bad," Kogure muttered, eyes following the action.
Kayano feinted left, then crossed over to the right, slipping past Hayato's outstretched hands. The squeak of his sneakers against the polished hardwood followed every sharp movement.
He passed to a teammate, who drove toward the basket, launching a layup. The ball hit the backboard with a dull thunk and swished cleanly through the net. The crowd murmured and shifted in anticipation, bodies leaning forward in their seats.
Yukio immediately drove hard toward the rim, muscles coiling as he jumped. To avoid a block, he twisted midair into a reverse layup. The ball tapped the backboard lightly before dropping through, and the faint smell of sweat and leather filled the gym.
Manabu received a crisp pass from Kayano and quickly fired a three-pointer. His fingers tingled as the ball left his hands, only for Tetsuo to rise, sneakers squeaking, and graze the ball mid-flight, blocking it cleanly.
Immediately, Tetsuo pivoted and passed to Takahiro, who sprinted down the court, sweat slick along his arms and back, and scored a layup, chest heaving with every step.
Him again… Manabu thought, hands trembling as he recovered defensively. The rush of exertion made his jersey cling to his back, heavy with sweat.
Kayano responded instantly, passing to Ryuu, who floated a shot over Yukio's outstretched arms. The ball spun quietly, cutting through the humid gym air before dropping neatly through the net. The hardwood echoed faintly under the players' movements.
Hayato drove toward the rim, the soles of his sneakers squeaking as he pushed off the floor, and floated a soft shot over Kayano's hand. The net rippled cleanly as the ball dropped through.
Ryuu set a firm screen for Manabu, freeing him from Tetsuo's coverage. Kayano's pass was sharp and precise, landing in Manabu's sweaty palms. He drove toward the basket, feeling the resistance of his jersey against his back, and scored a layup. The crowd let out a mix of cheers and groans, the echoes bouncing off the high gym walls.
Yukio stood just outside the key, pivoting swiftly on his slick sneakers, and launched a bank shot that swished neatly. The sound of the leather meeting the backboard was sharp in the quiet tension between plays.
Kayano passed to a teammate, who scored a two-pointer, and the murmurs from the crowd swelled, punctuated by the rhythmic bounce of the basketball. Kogure's eyes narrowed, concern knitting his brow. Kayano is boosting their offense, but even with him, we won't be able to close the gap like this. What will you do, Coach?
Hayato passed to Tetsuo, who faked a shot, forcing Manabu to leap and stretch. Then Tetsuo drove, bumping briefly into Ryuu's shoulder, and sank a layup with a controlled grunt of effort.
Kayano surged past Hayato immediately afterward, pulling up cleanly for a two-point shot. The ball left his hands with a quiet swish, and the crowd shifted with collective tension and anticipation.
Takahiro passed to Yukio, who faked, causing Ryuu to leap in reaction. Yukio then stepped through, landing fluidly and scoring a layup. His jersey clung damp against his back, and he panted audibly as he turned to resume defense.
Only seconds remained on the clock. Kayano passed to Ryuu, but Yukio applied intense pressure, forcing Ryuu to adjust his stance, sneakers squeaking sharply with every pivot.
"God damn it," Ryuu muttered under his breath, tossing the ball quickly to a teammate, the leather smacking the hardwood.
Suddenly, Shino found himself in exactly the right place at the right time. The ball slid through the air and landed in his hands. His palms were slick with sweat, and the texture of the leather felt slippery against his fingers.
Huh? I got the ball? he thought, wide-eyed, heart hammering so hard he could hear it thudding in his ears.
"Go, Katsuragi!" Hayato shouted, stepping aside to give him room, voice sharp with urgency.
"What are you waiting for? Dribble to the rim!" Yukio urged, leaning in slightly, sweat dripping from his forehead.
Shino gripped the ball tightly, muscles coiling, fingers pressing into the textured surface. His sneakers squeaked lightly as he began to dribble forward, the sound punctuating the rhythm of his nervous heartbeat. Each bounce felt deliberate, controlled, though his legs trembled slightly beneath him.
Stay calm. Remember what Tetsuo taught you—take two steps, then lay the ball on the rectangle, he told himself, focusing on the small rectangle of the backboard. His arms tensed, ready, and his chest rose and fell rapidly, each inhale filling the humid gym air.
Manabu struggled to close the gap, jersey sticking to his back from sweat. That number six is so fast! I can't catch up, he thought, pushing off the floor, sneakers squeaking in short, sharp bursts.
Shino neared the rim, the distant roar of the crowd fading into a muffled hum in his ears. His heart pounded in rhythm with each dribble, and the faint scent of sweat, rubber, and polished wood surrounded him. He took a deep breath, tasting the slight saltiness of his own perspiration as he prepared to jump.
He stepped forward, lifted, and the ball left his hands, sliding softly against the backboard. The tension stretched long, each second heavy, and the ball arced perfectly.
Then—swish.
The net rippled gently as the ball dropped clean. Time seemed to hang for a heartbeat.
"No way! It went in! It went in! I scored on Yokonan! My first in-game points! I did it! I did it!" Shino's voice cracked with joy. His cheeks flushed crimson, and sweat trickled down his temples and soaked into his jersey. Each breath came in rapid bursts as he spun slightly on his feet, disbelief and elation flooding his body.
A teacher watching nearby chuckled softly. "He's like a little kid," she said, voice warm.
"Aww! Look at him! He's absolutely adorable," a girl in the crowd gushed, leaning forward with wide eyes.
"Did he just say his first in-game points? Our basketball team is a joke," a soccer player scoffed from the sidelines, wiping sweat from his forehead.
Coach Arimoto's ears caught the words like a sharp whistle. He clenched his fists tightly, knuckles white, jaw set, and sank slightly onto the bench to steady his breathing. Every muscle in his body tensed as he forced himself to regain control over the frustration rising inside him.
"Great work, Shino!" Hayato called, offering a high-five, his sneakers squeaking against the floor as he leaned in.
"Nice layup! We needed that," Yukio added, smiling, sweat dripping from his temples onto the damp cloth of his jersey.
Takahiro gave Shino an encouraging nod and smile as he headed toward the bench, moving carefully to avoid stepping on the slick gym floor.
Tetsuo patted Shino on the back with a rare, gesture. "Nice layup, Katsuragi," he said quietly, stepping back to the bench.
Shino's chest rose and fell rapidly, muscles still trembling from exertion. His jersey clung heavily to his back, soaked with sweat, and the adrenaline left him buzzing. Even Tetsuo is praising me! This is the best! I was finally acknowledged by the person I want to catch up to!
The whistle blew sharply, echoing off the high gym walls, signaling the end of the second quarter. The scoreboard glowed bright above: Yokonan 39 – Toshigawa 48.