Makoto caught the ball from Hidesuke, the soft thud echoing off the gym floor.
He lowered his stance, knees bending as his shoes pressed lightly against the polished wood. His right foot anchored in place while his fingertips adjusted over the ball's surface, feeling the faint texture of the leather.
The air around him was still. His eyes stayed calm, steady, but sharp—watching every small movement in front of him.
Hidesuke exhaled through his nose, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk.
"Show me what you've got, first-year," he muttered under his breath, lowering his center of gravity as his sneakers slid into position.
The faint squeak of rubber echoed between them as he squared his stance, eyes fixed on Makoto.
So he's Hidesuke. About one-ninety, their center. However… height alone isn't enough to stop me.
Makoto dribbled once, the hollow sound of the ball echoing faintly against the wooden floor. His sneakers pressed and slid with measured control, testing the court's grip.
He crossed the ball between his legs, the motion smooth, his breathing steady. Dropping his body lower, he shifted his weight onto his lead foot.
The sound of rubber meeting hardwood sharpened—then, in a single burst, he slipped past Hidesuke, air rushing between them as a small pocket of space opened.
Hidesuke's eyes widened, a faint breath catching in his throat. His sneakers scraped the floor, but his body hadn't reacted in time.
What the—? How did he get past me so easily…?
He twisted on his heel, the sound of rubber squealing against the wood as he tried to recover, eyes locked on Makoto's back already pulling ahead.
Makoto slowed his steps, rising smoothly from his drive. His knees extended, arms unfolding in one controlled motion.
The ball left his fingertips with a quiet flick, the leather brushing lightly against his skin. A short breath followed him upward, steady and calm.
The ball traced a clean arc through the air, slicing the silence before dropping through the net with a crisp swish.
The ball bounced once, the dull thud echoing across the gym before rolling away.
For a moment, no one moved—every senior and even the coach stood frozen, eyes fixed on Makoto.
He lifted a hand to his mouth, stifling a small yawn.
"Well, that was disappointing. I expected better from you," he murmured, voice flat and unhurried.
His expression stayed still, eyes half-lidded, as if the whole exchange had barely been worth the effort.
Hidesuke narrowed his eyes, his breath leaving quietly through his nose.
"You sure are full of yourself, kid… that was only luck."
His voice came out low and tense, each word controlled.
"Scoring once does not mean you can win."
He tossed the ball back toward Makoto, the impact landing heavy against the younger player's hands.
Hidesuke's brows drew together, a faint line forming between them as he steadied his breathing. He kept his posture straight, forcing his expression to remain calm.
Inside, a quiet frustration stirred.
I couldn't even react to this kid's movements just now…
His grip on his shorts tightened slightly.
He's a tricky one.
The ball bounced toward Makoto.
He caught it lightly and flicked it forward in a quick touch-pass to Ko. The motion was smooth and controlled.
Hidesuke stopped for a moment, eyes tightening at the sudden play.
The pass cut through the space between them, fast and direct.
Makoto ran ahead, his sneakers making short squeaks against the floor.
"Pass it quickly, Yamazaki!"
His voice carried clearly across the court as he reached out for the return.
Ko's eyes widened, his arms moving before he could think.
He pushed the ball forward with both hands.
Makoto caught it in motion, his steps steady as he closed the distance to the rim.
He lifted the ball and guided it off the backboard with a simple layup.
The ball hit the glass once and fell straight through the net, the sound of the swish cutting through the quiet gym.
Basara leaned slightly forward from the sideline, a faint smirk forming on his face.
"He's not bad at all," he remarked, his tone calm but impressed.
Daichi folded his arms, a faint smile on his face as he watched the court.
He is really giving Hidesuke a hard time. That is not something you see often.
Played a little basketball, my ass. He's not your average twelve-year-old, thought Takumi, eyebrows slightly raised as he watched Makoto's stance.
Hidesuke's jaw tightened. His usual smug composure faded.
He clenched the ball and passed it back to Makoto, then stepped up on defense, his glare hardening as he planted his feet and lowered his center of gravity.
I will not let this punk humiliate me any further. Time to put you in your place.
His breath was low and steady, eyes fixed on Makoto.
On the sidelines, Coach Izanagi leaned forward slightly.
Now then, let's see how you handle pressure, rookie.
Makoto planted his pivot foot firmly, turning his body to shield the ball. His shoulder barely reached Hidesuke's chest, but his stance stayed solid.
The rubber of his shoes made a light scrape against the court.
Hidesuke closed in, his breath steady but tense.
Makoto dribbled low, the sound of the ball echoing softly between them.
He stepped back, just enough to open a narrow space. The air between them felt tight, both players locked in silence.
When Hidesuke leaned forward, Makoto moved at once.
His body dipped low, slipping past Hidesuke's side with clean footwork.
The squeak of sneakers followed as Hidesuke twisted and managed to get in front again, his stance firm and grounded.
Makoto stopped suddenly, the soles of his shoes brushing against the floor with a dry sound.
The ball slid through his legs, his feet shifting fast from side to side.
Hidesuke stayed close, his stance tight.
Makoto turned his hips and spun to the opposite side.
The movement was quick and clean.
Hidesuke tried to follow, but his foot lost grip on the polished court. His balance broke.
He fell backward, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
The sound echoed once, followed by the quiet bounce of the ball beside him.
Basara's voice broke through the echo of the fall, loud and unrestrained.
"Whoa, an ankle breaker!!"
His words bounced off the walls of the gym, drawing every head toward the court.
No way… this kid just dropped Hidesuke.
Daichi's eyes widened, his breath catching as he stared at the scene in disbelief.
Makoto lifted his eyes, calm and steady, then rose smoothly into his jump shot.
The floor creaked softly beneath his takeoff, but Takumi was already moving.
By the time Makoto reached the top of his jump, Takumi had leapt too, his arm stretched high, shadow falling over Makoto's line of sight.
Makoto didn't react with surprise.
His body twisted slightly in mid-air, and the ball left his hands—not toward the rim, but down toward Ko waiting under the basket.
The pass caught Takumi off guard; his eyes widened as the ball slipped past his reach.
Ko caught the ball, the impact soft against his palms.
For a brief moment, it slipped in his hands, but he tightened his grip and brought it under control.
His stance adjusted quickly, and with a short motion of his wrist, the ball struck the backboard and dropped cleanly through the net.
The first years stopped dribbling, eyes fixed on the play.
The sound of bouncing balls faded into silence.
"Focus on your training!!"
Basara's voice rang out suddenly, sharp and loud enough to startle them back into motion.
Shoes scraped the floor as they hurried to resume practice.
At the sideline, Coach Izanagi watched quietly, his arms folded.
This kid, Makoto Kurai… he's exactly what our team has been missing. A prodigy, one who sees the whole court, he thought, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly into a restrained grin.
Hidesuke rose from the floor, his jaw set and eyes dark beneath his brow.
He brushed the dust from his shorts, each motion steady and controlled.
His steps toward Makoto were slow, the sound of his shoes pressing against the court filling the silence.
The playful look from earlier was gone; his gaze was sharp and fixed.
Makoto didn't move back. His eyes met Hidesuke's, calm and unflinching.
Daichi stepped in quickly, placing a firm hand on Hidesuke's shoulder.
His tone stayed level, though his grip carried weight.
"Don't do something that will only make you look foolish. This isn't a place for fighting. He's still a kid. Show some restraint."
Hidesuke's eyes flickered, a faint tremor passing through his lashes.
His fist tightened at his side, knuckles pale for a moment before he slowly loosened his grip.
His breath left through his nose, quiet and rough.
Then Takumi stepped forward, the sound of his shoes tapping lightly against the court.
He stopped beside Hidesuke, posture straight, expression unreadable.
"Let's switch markers. I'll take him."
His voice was steady, calm.
"This kid… he's got skill."
"You're right, Takumi. He's all yours."
Hidesuke's words came out low as he gave a short nod, his expression stiff.
He took a step back, shoulders tense but controlled.
Ko swallowed, his throat dry.
His eyes shifted toward Makoto, a faint unease pressing against his chest.
I can't believe he's the same age as me. He's already so far ahead… Even with my build and growth in height in the future, I don't think I could ever reach his level.
On the sidelines, Shino leaned forward, his knees bouncing as excitement ran through him.
His bangs shifted slightly, revealing eyes that gleamed with admiration, a faint color rising in his cheeks.
This is so cool… so this is basketball, face-to-face. Absolutely amazing. I can't wait to learn all of that.
Takumi passed the ball to Makoto, the leather brushing softly against his fingertips before it left his hands.
His arms stayed loose, but his gaze locked on Makoto, steady and focused.
Let's see what all the fuss is about.
Makoto began to move, his dribble light and steady—left, then right.
The sound of the ball echoed faintly through the gym, steady like a pulse.
His eyes traced Takumi's stance, reading the angle of his feet, the tension in his torso.
Takumi shifted with him, steps quiet and measured.
His movement was smooth, his spacing tight, his attention unwavering.
Makoto feinted a quick drive, his shoulder dipping just enough to make Takumi react.
The next instant, the ball struck the floor with a firm bounce, spinning back behind him.
He slipped past Takumi's side, catching it cleanly with his off-hand and darting forward, his movement sharp and fluid.
Basara's voice cut through the sound of sneakers against the court, his tone lifting with surprise.
"Whoa… that kid even got past Takumi."
Makoto drove hard toward the rim, his steps quick and measured.
The court echoed beneath him with each stride.
As he neared the paint, his right foot pressed down firmly, and his body lifted, smooth and controlled.
His fingers extended, the ball leaving his hand in a clean motion toward the glass.
But Takumi was already behind him, his footsteps closing in fast.
The sound of his shoes scraped the floor—then silence, followed by the rush of air as he jumped.
Damn… I miscalculated his reach.
A heavy thud broke through the noise of the gym as Takumi's palm met the ball against the backboard.
The rebound dropped sharply, hitting the floor with a loud bounce.
Hidesuke's voice carried across the court, his tone strong and approving.
"Nice one, Takumi."
He gave a short nod, his expression returning to focus.
Takumi caught the ball in stride and pulled it out to the three-point line.
His grip tightened around the leather, each bounce echoing with weight and control.
The rhythm of his dribble filled the quiet between players.
There is no doubt this boy, Makoto, holds the potential of a prodigy, Coach Izanagi thought, eyes narrowing slightly.
But right now… Takumi stands above him.
Takumi pushed forward, lowering his center of gravity as he drove in.
The sound of the ball striking the court came fast and sharp.
Makoto met him head-on, sneakers sliding into position, his feet adjusting with quick steps.
Takumi turned his back to him, body steady, and began to move with small, precise shifts.
His shoulders rolled left, then right, each motion deliberate.
Makoto's eyes followed every twitch, his focus unbroken—but Takumi's timing was unreadable.
Without warning, Takumi spun to his right and rose.
Makoto reacted instantly, leaping to contest, but Takumi's height and reach carried the shot over him.
The ball slipped through the air and dropped into the net, the soft swish cutting through the silence of the gym.
I see… I couldn't contest him on that one, Makoto thought, catching his breath.
Sweat clung to his shirt, the fabric sticking lightly against his skin as his chest rose and fell.
Basara exhaled through his nose, a faint smirk forming.
"The fadeaway that no one can read… it gets them every time."
The ball was checked in again.
Takumi moved with the same calm rhythm, dribbling low before cutting left.
Makoto shifted quickly, sliding to block the lane—but Takumi spun cleanly, his body twisting in one smooth motion.
He slipped past Makoto and laid the ball in with quiet control.
On the next possession, Takumi passed the ball to Hidesuke.
The taller player caught it and drove forward at once, his shoulder pushing into Ko's chest.
Ko gritted his teeth, his sneakers screeching softly as he was forced backward.
"Tch… he's strong," he muttered, bracing his stance.
Hidesuke powered through and lifted the ball to the glass.
The sound of the bank shot echoed through the gym before the ball dropped through the net.
After the check, Hidesuke stepped forward and set a strong screen.
His shoulder locked into place, cutting Makoto's path sharply.
The impact threw Makoto slightly off balance, his feet slipping for an instant.
Takumi saw the opening and surged ahead.
His speed picked up in a heartbeat, and he drove straight to the rim.
His body lifted high, both hands gripping the ball before he slammed it down.
The rim rattled, and the sound carried through the gym, loud and heavy.
The next few possessions moved quickly.
Hidesuke forced his way inside, pushing through Makoto's defense to score a layup.
Takumi followed, hitting another fadeaway that dropped clean through.
Then Hidesuke ended it with a jumper from mid-range, the ball cutting the air before hitting the net with a soft snap.
The court fell quiet after that.
Everyone was breathing hard, shoulders rising and falling.
Sweat clung to their jerseys, and the faint squeak of sneakers echoed each time someone shifted their stance.
Coach Izanagi stood near the sideline, arms folded.
His gaze lingered on Makoto, and a small smile touched his lips as he exhaled slowly through his nose.
"The game ended just as I thought it would," Coach Izanagi murmured under his breath.
His tone was calm, but there was a trace of satisfaction behind it.
His gaze stayed fixed on Makoto.
"Still… that boy's potential is something else. He moves like a true point guard. If he keeps this up… we'll be a dangerous team this year."
Makoto bent forward, hands resting on his knees as his breath came slow and rough.
Sweat ran down his neck and dripped onto the court.
He straightened when he noticed Takumi walking toward him.
Takumi stopped in front of him, eyes steady, a faint smirk forming at the corner of his mouth.
I guess transferring here wasn't such a bad idea after all, he thought, lifting his fist slightly.
Makoto met his gaze, the corners of his lips twitching upward, and bumped fists with him in quiet acknowledgment.
The sound was soft, but it carried weight between them.