From that day forward, I quit basketball and never touched another ball or set foot on a court again.
The sound of sneakers on the gym floor, the steady rhythm of the ball, and the sharp blast of a whistle all became memories I forced myself to forget.
Every time I passed the court near my house, a dull ache pressed against my chest, reminding me of what I'd left behind.
It hurt to stay away from the sport I once loved so much, but in time, I learned to live without it.
I threw myself into studying. Long nights spent beneath a flickering desk lamp, the scratch of my pen on paper, and the faint hum of voices in class slowly replaced the space basketball had once filled.
I aimed for a prestigious school, somewhere my effort might actually mean something.
Ironically, I chose Toshigawa Academy—the very same school Yukio once promised we'd attend together, so we could play again one day.
I still remember the day I saw him again.
"Hey, you two are freshmen, right? My name is Yukio Hamaguchi—third-year, and captain of the basketball team."
He stood tall, posture straight but relaxed. His tone carried confidence, yet there was an easy warmth in it. When he reached out his hand, it was with the calm assurance of someone who had led others many times before.
"Nice to meet you. My name is Katsuragi Shino."
His voice carried a slight tension, like he was holding his breath between words. "I came here to ask if I could join the basketball club!"
He straightened his back after speaking, eyes flicking between Yukio and the court as if bracing for their answer.
This guy... isn't he from Shiranami Junior High? Makoto thought, a faint surprise stirring in his chest as the memory of their old promise surfaced.
"I like your spirit. Very well, you may begin training after classes today."
Yukio's smile softened, faint lines forming near his eyes. He turned toward Makoto, his tone steady but inviting. "And you? Do you wish to join as well?"
Makoto let out a small sigh. "No, I'm not really a fan of the sport. I only came with him so he could ask to join. Besides, it'd be too much work for me."
His expression stayed calm, eyes steady, though deep down he felt the faint pull of wanting to say yes.
That day, he knew exactly who I was, and I remembered the promise he once made.
But without either of us saying a word, he seemed to understand my silence.
He never asked again, not even once. A part of me wanted to step forward and accept, yet the weight of what had happened back in junior high kept my feet still.
A day passed.
The campus air was crisp in the mornings, scented with freshly cut grass. The day before Makoto went through his routine—classes, homework, quiet lunches—until that morning, he bumped into Shino again.
"Um, Kurai… good morning."
Shino's voice came out small, his shoulders drawn in as he clutched the strap of his bag a little tighter.
"Huh? Oh… it's you. What do you want?"
Makoto rubbed at his eyes, the faint heaviness of sleep still clinging as he blinked a few times to focus on Shino.
"I heard there's going to be a mini-basketball tournament for the first-years this term."
Makoto tilted his head slightly, his gaze dull with disinterest. "And what does that have to do with me?"
"Well… we need five people to play." Shino's fingers fidgeted restlessly, the skin around his knuckles turning pale. "You're the only person I've talked to since I started here, so I was hoping you could fill one of the spots… please."
His voice cracked slightly near the end. A faint red crept up his cheeks as he shifted from foot to foot. The nearby students paused, their quiet murmurs brushing against the hallway air.
"Okay, okay… jeez, quit making a scene."
Makoto let out a short sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, the faint warmth of embarrassment rising as a few heads turned their way.
I didn't really know what came over me, but somehow, he managed to convince me to pick up a ball again.
The gym buzzed with energy that afternoon. The air inside was warm and slightly stale from all the movement. The wood floor gleamed under the fluorescent lights.
As the ball hit his palm, a familiar jolt ran through his arm. Makoto dribbled once, twice. The bounce felt natural.
We faced two upperclassmen who clearly had more experience and really pushed us.
I hadn't expected it—but I was actually having fun. Playing alongside Tetsuo, Shino, Noboru, and Naomi felt strangely natural.
With every shot and every pass, something faint began to move inside me.
I tried to ignore it, to keep my guard up, but the feeling stayed.
The memories from junior high still lingered, heavy and close. Back then, my teammates had turned on me, twisting the game into something I couldn't trust. I didn't want to go through that again.
Back at the school gate, in the narrow alley beside it, Makoto and Noboru stood in silence.
The afternoon heat stuck to their skin, and the faint creak of the metal gate shifted with the breeze.
Shino sat on the ground, arms locked around his knees, shoulders trembling. He was still sobbing—quiet, sharp sounds that cut through the still air. His face was damp with tears, flushed, and tight with pain.
"I didn't know stuff like that happened back in junior high," Noboru muttered, his jaw tight. "Guess I'd have a hard time trusting anyone too after that kind of crap… but still, you can't just think every team's the same, right? That's messed up."
He kicked lightly at the dirt, glancing aside. "There're good people out there. Like Yukio—he's a solid guy, you know? A really good captain."
He shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his head, the words clearly awkward coming out of him.
Makoto let out a slow breath, his hands slipping into his pockets before tightening into fists.
"Yeah, you don't have to tell me Yukio's a good captain. I already know. The only way to get rid of this irritation is to play again. So, I'll join the team… and settle things with those idiots who ruined the game for me."
Shino wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, the skin around them still red and swollen. His voice trembled at first but grew steadier as he spoke.
"From today on… I won't cry anymore. I'll get stronger and beat Musashi High with my own effort. That's the only way I can move forward from what they've put me through."
Makoto exhaled slowly, his tone flat and measured.
"So we all agree we need to beat them. Let's promise we'll take them down—the three of us."
Shino pushed himself to his feet, stumbling a little before finding his balance.
Noboru and Makoto gave a small, firm nod.
Their fists came together in the center—solid, quiet, and set.
"Alright, let's head back, Shino. The seniors must be worried sick about us."
Noboru shrugged, his voice casual, a lopsided grin tugging at his mouth.
"Let's bring these drinks back to the team."
Makoto picked up a few bottles, passing some over to Shino.
"Oh, right. I almost forgot," Noboru muttered, his tone impatient. "My throat's killing me—give me mine already."
He snatched the apple juice from Shino's hand without waiting.
Shino glanced at him, brow slightly furrowed. "You're paying me back for that, right?"
Noboru let out a short breath through his nose, the corners of his mouth curling.
He gave a lazy wave with his free hand as he tilted the bottle back. "Yeah, yeah, I'll pay you tomorrow, don't worry."
The faint sound of the drink fizzing filled the air as he swallowed, his grin not fading.
Back at the court, Nanaho paced along the sideline, each step sharp and controlled.
Her arms stayed crossed, fingers pressing hard against her sleeves. The corner of her mouth twitched as her gaze followed the court—focused, but edged with irritation.
The sound of sneakers squeaking across the floor seemed to grate on her nerves. A short breath slipped through her nose, quiet but heavy, before she turned on her heel again.
"Nanaho's not looking too good."
Liam's voice carried a nervous brightness, his usual cheer dimmed as he shifted his weight.
"Yeah, she's mad." Hayato rubbed the back of his neck, eyes following her sharp pacing across the sideline.
"Shino and Noboru aren't back yet. She'll punish them for sure." Takahiro exhaled slowly, the corners of his mouth tightening.
"Since Noboru and Shino are late, we will practice free throws until they return."
Her tone was sharp but steady, carrying that clipped. The others quickly lined up without complaint, sneakers brushing the court.
Takahiro stepped forward, sneakers squeaking faintly against the polished floor. The air in the gym turned still, only the echo of the ball bouncing twice breaking the quiet.
He drew a slow breath, shoulders steady, and released. The ball arced clean—one swish, one hard clang against the rim.
Hayato moved in next. His movements were calmer, measured. He rolled the ball once between his hands, set his feet, and shot. The net whispered twice in a row, each sound neat and clean.
Liam shuffled forward hesitantly. His height gave him an edge, but his posture was stiff. The ball flew wide and thudded awkwardly off the backboard—twice.
He blinked at the miss, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish grin, the corners of his mouth twitching as if trying to laugh it off.
"Ahh, looks like the hoop's not on my side today," he muttered, flashing a sheepish grin. He jogged back to the line, still shaking his head.
Tetsuo and Yukio each stepped forward with calm precision. Their movements were steady, almost effortless.
The sound of the ball slicing through the air echoed once, followed by the clean swish of the net. Both of their shots landed true, the balls bouncing softly back into their hands.
Takahiro glanced toward the entrance, a faint crease forming between his brows.
His voice carried a note of concern as he muttered, "It's not like Shino to be this late… I wonder what happened."
Hayato wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand. "We sent him to buy some drinks, but he hasn't returned yet… that's strange," he murmured, eyes turning toward the entrance.
Yukio exhaled quietly, eyes narrowing toward the court doors. "Noboru isn't back from his stamina training with the track team either… and Shino's usually the one who calls him."
His tone carried a calm steadiness, but there was a faint edge of concern beneath it.
Nanaho's jaw tightened, her brows twitching. She pressed the clipboard to her side and let out a single, quiet breath.
Something may have happened to Shino… I'll let him off with something light. Noboru, however—just you wait. You will wish you were dead.
The doors gave a faint creak; every head in the gym turned toward the entrance.
The doors opened wider as Noboru stepped inside. "Hey, everyone… we're back."
Makoto came in after him, hands in his blazer pockets, eyes avoiding the others.
Shino followed close behind, head down, his cheeks faintly red. A trace of cold air and sweat drifted in with them.
Nanaho's voice cut through the gym, sharp and controlled. "Where have you been, Noboru? You should know… something harsh has already been prepared for you."
A faint smirk crossed her face, her eyes narrowing with quiet irritation.
Noboru froze, panic spreading across his face as he fanned his hands in front of him.
"W-wait, let me explain! I've got a good excuse this time!" He took a small step back, voice trembling. "Shino was buying the drinks like you told him to, but he ran into some of his old teammates from Musashi High. They were saying awful things to him, so… I had to go help. That's why, really!"
Hayato adjusted the headband around his forehead, eyes narrowing slightly. "So… you're saying players from Musashi High were bothering Shino, right?"
Nanaho crossed her arms, her tone calm but edged with disdain. "Musashi High is known for their strong defense and physical play, but what stands out most is their attitude. Trash talk, insults—they'll do anything to get inside a player's head."
Her expression softened slightly as she looked toward Noboru. "I'm glad you stepped in when you did. Thank you, Noboru."
Takahiro glanced toward Makoto, his tone calm but curious. "You also brought Kurai with you… was he involved as well?"
Makoto let out a quiet breath, his posture loose. "Yeah, I was. They started throwing insults at me first, but Shino tried to help. That just made them turn on him instead."
He paused, eyes drifting toward Yukio. "Anyway… the reason I'm here… I think I'm ready to keep that promise we made back then, Yukio."
He took a step forward, standing a little straighter. One hand slipped from his blazer pocket as he ran it through his hair, letting out a quiet sigh.
"I'll join the basketball team. It's going to be a pain… and I'll probably end up exhausted every day, but… I think I'm ready to come back—to the sport."
Liam's eyes lit up, his grin spreading wide as he leaned forward slightly. "Eh? So that means we have eight members now?"
His voice carried a bright, eager tone that broke through the heavy mood.
Takahiro gave a small nod, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah… looks like that's the case."
Liam jogged over with an easy grin, reaching out to take Makoto's hand.
"Hey, nice to meet you again! I'm Liam Ainsworth. We played against each other in that gym match, remember?"
His tone was bright and friendly, the kind that lifted the air around him.
Makoto looked up at him as he gave a small nod, his voice flat but steady. "Yeah… hard to forget someone with that kind of presence. Didn't know you'd joined the team, though."
His tone stayed even, eyes half-lidded but focused on Liam.
Liam laughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I joined about two weeks ago. Basketball's really fun, isn't it?"
His voice carried an easy warmth, eyes bright with enthusiasm.
Makoto let out a quiet sigh, glancing up at Liam with a half-lidded gaze. "Yeah… I guess so," he muttered, his tone flat and a little overwhelmed by Liam's energy.
Yukio stepped forward, a warm smile brightening his face as he held out his hand. "Thank you for joining the team, Makoto. I'm looking forward to playing with you."
Makoto yawned, rubbing the corner of his eye as he turned away. "Likewise… but I'll start tomorrow. Need to get some sleep."
The other players exchanged quiet glances, Nanaho's expression unreadable.
Takahiro and Hayato let out soft, quiet laughs.
As Makoto walked toward the exit, he glanced back at the court.
The faint scent of polished wood lingered in the air, the distant echo of bouncing balls carried softly across the gym, and the low hum of voices and movement filled the space—it all felt like home again.
Nanaho stood at the sideline, arms still crossed, a small smile tugging at her lips.
I'm glad for Yukio. Even if this outcome was unexpected, we have such a strong team now. Time to work hard and prepare them for the upcoming matches.
Her fist clenched and lifted slightly, a surge of motivation tightening her posture.
Tetsuo stood quietly, eyes fixed on the court, fingers tightening around the basketball.
A strange weight pressed in his chest, a feeling he hadn't realized he'd forgotten.
What is this…? I don't even know.