A bead of sweat rolled down Hayato's temple as he squinted at the scoreboard. Toshigawa Academy 55 — Yokonan High 63.
The gym felt suffocating, heat pressing against his skin. The sharp scent of waxed floors mixed with faint rubber and lingering sweat, clinging to the air.
The crowd's cheers had dwindled, leaving a low hum of murmurs that vibrated through the wooden bleachers.
Hayato wiped his brow with the back of his hand, fingers sticking slightly to the damp cloth of his headband.
"Let's win this, Tetsuo! I'm sorry I gave up back there, and thanks for waking me up."
Hayato tugged at his headband again, fingers trembling slightly as they pressed the cloth into place. His breath came in short bursts, the gym's heat clinging to his skin.
"I don't want anyone slacking off on defense! Work hard, and let's stop Yokonan!" Yukio's voice bounced off the walls, carrying a sharp edge that made the players straighten instinctively.
A ripple of excitement ran through the team.
"Yes!" they echoed, fists pumping, sneakers squeaking against the floor as they matched his intensity.
The slap of high-fives and the squeak of sneakers answered their rally.
Tension thickened, pulsing with the rhythm of the bouncing ball and echoing shouts that bounced off the gymnasium rafters.
Aoi's eyes narrowed on the unfamiliar figure across the court. What's he talking to him about…? Kogure doesn't just walk up to anyone like that. He must know him… and respect him.
Her fingers twitched against her side, curiosity sharpening with every passing second.
Come on, Tetsuo… you've got this!
Haruko's fist tightened, her heart pounding. I believe in you… don't let us down!
She inhaled sharply, every nerve buzzing with anticipation.
Alright, this is it. Time to show Yokonan that Toshigawa has grit. I've done all I can with strategy and planning. Now it's up to them to fight until the final whistle.
Nanaho crossed her arms tightly, pressing her nails into her sleeves. Her chest rose and fell in time with the bouncing ball.
The referee's whistle cut through the gym, sharp and cold.
The players snapped into motion, sneakers squeaking as they moved.
Kayano inbounded the basketball.
The pass landed in Kogure's palms with a sharp slap that echoed through the gym. Sneakers squeaked as players shifted, scrambling into position.
Kogure leaned low, pushing forward, weaving past Takahiro's outstretched arms. His breathing stayed steady, controlled, as he moved through the paint.
The heat of the gym pressed against his skin. Yukio trailed him closely, matching his pace, trying to block him.
Kogure extended and flicked the ball upward. It hit the backboard and dropped cleanly through the net.
Swish.
A brief, loud cheer erupted from the bleachers, rolling across the gym.
On the next possession, Hayato sprinted past half-court, dribbling hard.
The ball hit the floor with a deep thud, and his feet slid slightly as Kayano cut him off from the basket.
He stopped near the elbow and passed to Takahiro.
Takahiro caught it in rhythm, jumped, and flicked his wrist.
The ball arced through the air and dropped cleanly through the net.
"Nice one, Takahiro!" Yukio called, pivoting and hustling back on defense.
His sneakers squealed against the floor as he changed direction.
The gym buzzed with renewed energy. Players shifted, sneakers scraping, breaths coming faster, eyes sharp and focused.
After the inbound, Kayano dribbled between his legs—tap-tap—each bounce tight and controlled against the floor.
He burst past Hayato, who tried to defend, leaving him a step behind.
The crowd reacted instantly, a sharp intake of breath echoing through the gym, as Kayano passed to Ryuu in the post.
Ryuu caught it with a heavy thump and powered toward the hoop.
Takahiro stepped late, his movement just a fraction behind.
Ryuu's body collided forward. Thud.
The layup dropped clean over Takahiro's outstretched hand.
On the next possession, Tetsuo caught a pass from Hayato as he came up the court.
The ball thudded against the hardwood with each dribble. His eyes scanned ahead, unreadable.
Manabu stepped up to guard him, but before they could square off—
"Stand down, Manabu. This one's mine! Hate to break it to you, but you're no match for him now."
Kogure's voice cut through the gym.
He shoved past Manabu, settling into a stance. Knees bent, fingers splayed, eyes locked on Tetsuo.
Manabu froze, muscles stiff. No way… Did Kogure, of all people, just say I'm not good enough?
His eyes widened behind his glasses.
Kogure looks happy. That's not a look you see often. He's definitely enjoying this challenge, Coach Arimoto observed, arms crossed, lips tight in a small smile.
Tetsuo crossed the ball low—tap-tap—but Kogure didn't fall for it.
He shuffled, tracking every movement.
Tetsuo spun, and Kogure mirrored him, hands up, body cutting him off. Sneakers squeaked sharply with every pivot, filling the space between their breaths.
Takahiro faked his defender, then dashed toward the clash, chest colliding with Kogure's side as he set the screen.
Tetsuo stepped back and launched into the air.
Kogure pushed through the screen, leaping late, arms stretching—
But the ball was already in motion.
Tetsuo's wrist flicked, sending it in a perfect arc toward the rim.
Swish.
The ball dropped cleanly through the net.
I see… the release on that one was slightly faster, Kogure thought, smirking as his eyes followed the spinning ball even after it hit the floor.
"Whoa… I can't believe it. Kogure is having a hard time guarding number eleven. He must be really strong for that to happen," a student watching the game murmured, eyes wide.
Something's off about this match… Aoi's thoughts raced. It feels like I've seen this before. Haven't these two clashed somewhere already? Why does it feel so familiar?
Her fingers tightened over her chest, pressing against the fabric of her jacket over her school swimsuit. Her heart thumped in a strange, uneven rhythm.
On the next play. Kayano threaded the ball to Kogure, who spun on Yukio.
His heel squealed against the floor as he planted.
Kogure faked a turn left, then right, but Yukio stayed with him, reacting instantly, using his body to cut him off while keeping his hands active.
Suddenly, Kogure dribbled sharply, spun, and in rhythm, rose into the air.
His body stretched fully as he slammed the ball into the rim with a one-handed dunk.
The rim rattled under the force.
CLANG.
He's even better this year, Yukio thought, chest heaving as he wiped sweat from his forehead with his jersey.
"Nice one, Kogure! That was amazing!" a girl in the crowd shouted, palms cupped around her mouth, bouncing with excitement.
"Noboru, catch!" Hayato called, throwing a long pass down the court.
Noboru sprinted ahead of the Yokonan players, and the ball hit his chest hard.
"Right, I got it!" Noboru almost stumbled, but he regained his balance and lunged toward the hoop for a layup.
Manabu, trailing behind, was already airborne.
No, you don't, Manabu thought as he swung his arm down—
CRACK!
His forearm slammed into Noboru's face.
Noboru stumbled back, a wet smack echoing through the gym.
"Gah!" Noboru screamed, collapsing headfirst to the floor, hands clutching his nose. Sweat and pain mixed across his skin.
The referee's whistle blared.
The ball hit the backboard and dropped cleanly through the net.
"Pushing foul, white number nine. Basket counts—one free throw," the referee announced.
"Dammit!" Manabu cursed, breathing heavily, fists clenched.
Noboru pushed himself up, a vein bulging on his forehead, and walked slowly toward Manabu.
"How dare you hit me in the face, you son of a—" he started, blood rushing to his face.
"Noboru, calm down. You scored, so it's fine," Yukio quickly held him firmly by the shoulders.
"No need to act irrationally."
"Oh… you're right, Captain. I did score," Noboru said with a relieved grin, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Finally… I have more points than that amateur Shino! he thought, smug.
"Now, all you have to do is score the free throw," Yukio encouraged.
"Free throw? But I suck at those!" Noboru replied nervously.
Oh right… I didn't teach him free throws. That was dumb, Nanaho thought, exasperated, watching with a twitch of her brow.
"Don't worry. Just throw it onto the rim. I'll get the rebound and score. We need to close the gap before the fourth quarter," Yukio whispered, calm and low.
Noboru's chest rose as he steadied himself.
"Okay… I'll do just that. Let's win this game."
His voice carried a rough edge, but his eyes were clear again.
Kayano bent forward, hands braced on her knees, sharp eyes on the rim.
"Everyone, get ready to collect the rebound!" Her voice cut through the tense silence.
Kogure planted his feet, shoulders stiff, fingers twitching for contact. His jaw tightened.
Something tells me Yukio isn't going to settle for just one point.
Yukio leaned toward Tetsuo, voice low but firm, lips barely moving.
"Fight around Kogure. Do everything you can to grab that rebound. This possession will decide the winner."
Tetsuo's face remained stone still, only a short nod betraying his understanding.
The air shifted.
Noboru stepped forward to the line, dribbling once, twice.
The gym hushed into a heavy silence—only the faint squeak of sneakers and the distant hum of overhead lamps filled the void.
His hands trembled slightly as he positioned the ball, adjusting the seams with damp fingertips.
If we manage to pull this off, we can win this game. And I'll be the reason we win. I can do this.
His grip tightened, chest rising sharply as he drew in a breath.
Sweat rolled from his chin. His hands felt clammy, pulse running quick.
He steadied, bent his knees, then flung the ball forward with an awkward motion—closer to a baseball pitch than a free throw.
Ryuu's brow twitched, his eyes wide. What the heck is this guy doing?
Kayano's lips parted, disbelief flashing across her face.
"Is this… some kind of joke?"
The ball struck the backboard with a dull boom and ricocheted hard off the rim.
In the same heartbeat, Yukio and Ryuu exploded upward.
"There's no way you're out-rebounding me, number seven!" Ryuu's roar tore out as he rose.
Yukio's teeth clenched, body twisting mid-air. My team is depending on me. I won't lose!
His fingertips clamped around the ball cleanly, ripping it down.
They collided, shoulders slamming.
Sweat burst into the air as Yukio wrenched free, landing heavy on bent knees.
He pivoted, chest heaving.
"And I'm returning the favor!"
His voice rang across the court.
"No way I let you dunk on me and walk away from it!"
He surged back upward, both hands locked around the ball.
His legs uncoiled, driving him higher than Ryuu could match.
The rim shook. The gym quivered with the violent crash as he hammered the ball through the hoop.
Ryuu hit the floor, arms sprawled, eyes blank from the impact.
Yukio landed with a jolt, sweat spraying from his jawline.
The ball bounced once, then rolled lazily away.
His chest expanded and collapsed, each breath sharp.
For a frozen beat, silence.
Then—BOOM.
The crowd ignited.
Yokonan's students leapt to their feet, clapping and shouting, their voices pounding off the walls.
"Nice one, number seven! You're phenomenal!" one yelled, cupping his hands.
On the bench, Nanaho rose, palms tight around her mouth.
"That's the way to go, Yukio!!"
Her voice rang above the chaos.
Beside her, Kanae straightened, lips curling faintly.
"Well, would you look at that. Seems our school is tougher than we thought."
Yuri and Airi exchanged stunned glances, eyes locked on the rim still trembling.
Aoi's expression softened into a thoughtful stare.
Even with Kogure on the floor, Toshigawa still has a chance. They really are something.
Kogure's eyes narrowed, shifting toward Yukio. Looks like he's too much for Ryuu to handle. If I step in and mark him, though… we'll definitely lose.
His gaze flicked to Tetsuo, a small pride tugging at the corner of his mouth.
The buzzer blared—end of the third quarter.
The crowd's voices swelled, filling every inch of the gym.
On Yokonan's bench, Ryuu stormed in, chest pumping hard.
His hand lashed out—CLANG!
A chair skidded across the tiles and toppled.
He dropped onto the bench, jaw clenched, eyes burning.
Eiji tried to force a laugh, though his voice wavered.
"Toshigawa's team is… quite strong, huh?"
"Shut your mouth, Eiji!!" Ryuu's voice ripped raw, sweat dripping from his chin as he leaned forward, fists shaking.
Coach Arimoto's arms folded tightly across his chest, eyes never leaving Nanaho across the court.
"It's not that they're strong. They capitalized on every weakness, every mistake. That coach isn't your average high school girl—she's a genius."
Eiji's tone dipped, almost too soft to hear.
"If only Keichiro were here… we wouldn't be having trouble with number seven in the post."
Ryuu's head snapped, fury flaring in his eyes.
He surged to his feet, teeth bared.
"So you're saying I'm the problem now, huh?!"
Eiji flinched back, hands raised.
"No—I didn't say that! They're just… too good, that's all!"