Yukio caught the ball just outside the arc, his sneakers skidding slightly against the polished court as he stopped on a dime. The sharp screech of rubber against wood echoed through the gym, but in that moment, it dulled to a distant hum in his mind.
A sudden, cold wave of doubt slid down his spine.
His breath hitched as the memory hit—last season's final game, down by a single point. The ball had landed in my hands, passed to me with a look that carried complete trust. That familiar intensity in the eyes… it was him. It's him… my brother.
"Shoot!" the voice barked, sharp, almost desperate.
Yukio froze, fingers trembling around the ball. The leather felt heavier than usual, slick against his sweaty palms.
What if I miss? The thought clenched his chest, cold and tight.
The sharp blast of the referee's whistle snapped through the court.
They lost.
The gym went quiet afterward. The sound of distant sneakers, water bottles clinking, even the hum of the scoreboard seemed to vanish. The weight of the moment sank into his chest, pressing down, settling in his bones.
Back in the gym, the memory dissolved, but the tension stayed. The ball rested heavy in his hands again, leather pressing against his palms, cool and slightly damp from sweat. But this time, the weight didn't make his fingers freeze.
Not this time.
Yukio drew in a slow, steady breath, feeling his lungs expand, shoulders rise and fall. He flexed his fingers, adjusting his grip. His arms lifted, deliberate, controlled, as if cutting through the haze of past mistakes.
The ball left his hands in a smooth arc. It hit the rim with a sharp metallic clank, bouncing once, twice. The gym seemed to hold its breath with him. The ball wobbled briefly on the edge of the hoop, spinning, vibrating against the metal, before dropping cleanly through the net with a crisp swish.
Lights on the scoreboard blinked rapidly before settling: 88–89, Toshigawa ahead.
Yuri, near the baseline, lifted her camera, fingers adjusting the zoom and tapping the record button. The screen glowed faintly as she filmed the ball falling through the net, her eyes narrowing with focus. The camera's mechanical whir and the soft click of buttons punctuated the tense gym air.
A sudden, sharp cheer broke the air. Airi from Toshigawa's newspaper club leapt from the bench, fists pumping. "Yes!! Let's go, Toshigawa!!" Her voice sliced through the stunned silence of the Yokonan crowd.
Kanae, standing to the side with arms folded, smirked, one eyebrow rising. "Not bad," she murmured, her gaze still fixed on the court.
The gym erupted all at once. Hands slapped together, shoes squeaked against the polished floor, and a wave of gasps and shouts rolled over the court. The humid air smelled of sweat and rubber, thick enough to cling to the back of their throats.
"It went in!! We've won!" Yukio's voice rang across the court as he thrust his fists into the air, shoulders heaving. His jersey clung to his back, soaked with sweat, and the soles of his shoes pressed against the warm, slick surface of the hardwood. Heat radiated up through his legs as he bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, grinning wide, chest rising and falling rapidly.
"Finally, it's over." Hayato exhaled heavily, shoulders sagging as sweat dripped down his neck. His hands flexed at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling as the tension drained from his face. "He made the shot… we defeated Yokonan."
Haruko's chest rose and fell unevenly, eyelids blinking rapidly as she tried to process the moment. He scored… Tetsuo won… Her hands pressed lightly against her thighs, fingers tapping nervously against the fabric of her skirt as relief washed over her.
"Time's still on the clock. Back on defense." Tetsuo's voice remained calm and measured, his expression unreadable. His shoulders squared, eyes fixed on the court, and the sheer precision in his stance sent a jolt through the team. Sneakers squeaked sharply as they scrambled to reposition, breaths quickening, fingers brushing against the slick hardwood. The sudden shift caught everyone off guard.
Kayano snatched the ball, fingers pressing firmly against the leather, and launched a long inbound pass across the court. The ball slapped against the hardwood and bounced straight into Kogure's reach. Kogure sprinted after it, sneakers screeching sharply, muscles tensing with each push-off, and Tetsuo followed, stride for stride. The gap between them closed as the final seconds ticked away.
"Damn, we messed up big time." Yukio twisted his torso, forcing his legs to keep moving. Thigh muscles burned with each step, feet slipping slightly on the polished floor.
Looks like… I'm at my limit. His knees wobbled, and he stumbled forward. Palms smacked the slick hardwood, chest thudding against the impact. He tried to push up, arms shaking under the weight of his body, sweat dripping into his eyes.
"Go, Kogure!! End this game!!" Kayano's fist shot upward, voice cracking with desperation as he leaned forward, eyes wide, every muscle taut.
"Kogure-senpai, finish this!! We believe in you!!" A chorus of girls from the sidelines leaned forward, fists clenching, voices rising together, breaths sharp with anticipation.
Kogure covered the last few steps in three fast strides, soles squeaking against the polished floor, and launched into the air, arms fully extended. Sweat dripped from his forehead, trailing down his fingertips.
Beside him, Tetsuo rose with measured precision, body rigid and vertical, eyes locked on the ball. His posture didn't waver, muscles coiled tightly as he met Kogure at the peak.
"I won't allow you." Tetsuo's hand collided with Kogure's, skin slapping sharply against leather. The sound cracked through the gym, mingling with the rapid thump of sneakers and labored breaths.
Kogure gritted his teeth, recognizing the challenge in front of him. The weight of the moment pressed down on his chest.
Huh? Tetsuo, I see. Adrenaline surged as he locked eyes with him.
Kogure could feel the heat radiating off both their bodies—chests heaving, muscles coiled, sweat flicking from fingertips as they clashed at the peak of their jumps. The roar of the crowd dulled to a low throb behind the pounding in his ears.
Even though I haven't seen you for years… it seems you've kept your promise.
Tetsuo's arm stayed firm, expression unreadable but unrelenting.
You've gotten a whole lot better than when we were kids. A drop of sweat slid past his temple as he blinked rapidly. For a brief second, he saw the past—two kids, a promise, a future written on hardwood courts.
You may not remember me… The sting of that reality hit hard.
…but at least you still continued playing basketball.
He exhaled sharply through his nose, feeling the pushback from Tetsuo's arm.
And that's why… His grip on the ball tightened as he began to twist.
…we were able to meet again.
In a swift motion, Kogure twisted mid-air. The ball slipped from Tetsuo's fingers, and Kogure wrapped it behind his back, spinning and flicking it off the glass. The ball touched the backboard with a soft tap and fell cleanly through the net as the referee's whistle shrieked.
The gym fell silent. The only sounds were labored breathing, squeaking soles shifting on the floor, and the faint hum of the scoreboard clock halting.
"Basket counts!" the referee announced, his voice ringing out.
Kogure exhaled hard, his body dropping to the floor. "Phew."
"Oh no, we lost… No way," Shino whispered. His lips trembled, and his eyes filled with tears.
"Dammit… I shouldn't have celebrated so early." Hayato's shoulders slumped, fingers brushing against his damp jersey as he exhaled sharply. He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, eyes narrowing as a bitter flush crept across his face.
"That was way too close for comfort," Kayano muttered, standing frozen as he stared at the hoop.
"Damn, we lost, but we were so close." Takahiro's shoulders sagged as he stood beside Tetsuo, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Both of them remained silent for a long moment. Tetsuo's eyes didn't move; his posture rigid, chest expanding and contracting slowly, showing no sign of frustration or defeat.
Oh no… they lost… Tetsuo… Haruko's fingers tapped lightly against her thighs, her eyes fixed on his unreadable face. The sting in her chest deepened, heart tightening with unease.
Clapping began across the gym, tentative at first, then building steadily. It was unusual—applause for the losing team.
Hands clapped rhythmically, sneakers shifted against the polished floor, and voices carried over the rising noise.
"Great work, Toshigawa! You're one hell of a team!" A boy from the soccer club leaned forward, fists clenching in excitement.
"You guys did well, you were so close despite only having six members." A student from Yokonan adjusted his bag strap, eyes bright, nodding toward the team.
"You did well, number eleven! Don't let this get you down. This game could've gone either way." Fingers brushed the rim of a notebook as another student called encouragement across the court.
"All the best in the tournament; we believe you guys can go places!" A girl's voice rang out, hands resting lightly on the railing as she leaned forward.
"What!! Are they praising us?" Shino's eyes blinked rapidly, lips parting slightly. His voice sounded small, disbelief and awe threading through each word.
"Toshigawa Academy did a good job against us." Keichiro's lips pressed into a thin line, eyes narrowing slightly as he nodded toward the team.
Coach Arimoto shifted his weight, arms crossed, and inclined his head. "I hate to admit it, but they have all the key players they need to compete. All they need now is to elevate their game for the tournament. And let's not forget about their coach—a high school girl. She's absolutely brilliant." He rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. "Maybe I'll speak with the school board to hire her as my assistant when she graduates."
The referee raised a hand, and the players immediately moved. "Both teams, line up!"
Sweat dripped down faces as everyone made their way to the half-court line. Noboru was absent, but no one asked. Jerseys clung to backs, soles squeaked lightly against the polished hardwood, and players bowed in unison.
"Thank you for the match." Both teams' voices blended, echoing across the gym.
Nanaho's hands trembled slightly as she clapped, eyes scanning the teams. You guys did well. I hope this loss doesn't get to their heads, she thought.