Sunday Morning – Kagawa Residence, Tokyo, Japan
The faint sound of an alarm clock coming through the medium and tidy room. A lazy hand reached out from under the blanket and slammed the button, silencing it instantly.
Kagawa Ryota groaned as he sat up, his messy black hair pointing in all directions.
His eyes were half-open, his mind foggy. He had spent the entire night gaming again — grinding ranked matches until 3 AM.
He stretched, yawning deeply, rubbing his neck with a sluggish motion.
Ryota(Muttering): Ugh... I really need to stop staying up that late.
He lived alone in a quiet two-story house tucked at the edge of the neighborhood. At 17, he managed to live independently — a student by day, a small business owner by morning. His parents had long separated, but his father still visited once in a while.
Despite his young age, Ryota wasn't some spoiled kid. He ran a small bakery near his area, employing a baker and a seller. It wasn't big, but it paid the bills — and gave him something to be proud of.
He slipped on a black shirt, grey shorts, and quietly walked to the kitchen.
Sunday Morning – Dining Area
He poured cereal into a bowl, added milk, and fixed himself a cup of black coffee. Breakfast was simple, quiet, and the same every day.
The spoon clinked lightly against the bowl as he ate.
He turned on the TV, slouching into the couch. The sound of sneakers screeching filled the living room — a live basketball game was on. The screen flashed with energy, commentators shouting in excitement.
Ryota(Murmuring): Man... look at that vertical. He didn't even hesitate.
He wasn't just watching. He was studying — every move, every pass, every rhythm. The game fascinated him in a way nothing else did.
He loved basketball. Truly loved it.
But his body never caught up with his heart.
At 5'9", thin and wiry, Ryota looked more like a tired college student than an athlete. His metabolism burned through everything he ate. No matter how many meals or protein shakes he tried, his body refused to bulk up.
He had long accepted that he wasn't made for it.
So instead of chasing dreams on the court, he focused on logic, business, and strategy. His brain — that was his weapon.
After breakfast, he threw on a hoodie and stepped out. The weather was warm, the air faintly crisp. He walked down the street toward the nearby grocery, earbuds plugged in, lost in his own world.
Late Morning – Near the Grocery
On his way back, he slowed his steps.
In the distance, across an open court surrounded by chain-link fences, a group of men were playing basketball. They weren't ordinary players.
Their movements were sharp, ruthless — the sound of each dribble echoed like thunder.
They jumped high, bodies colliding midair, dunking with violent precision.
Ryota stopped walking, watching silently from afar.
They were fast. Powerful. Every play felt like something out of a highlight reel.
And for a moment, Ryota felt a twist in his chest.
Ryota(Quietly): If only I had that kind of body...
It wasn't jealousy of their fame or skill. It was envy of their freedom.
The way they moved — unrestrained, alive, fearless.
But that wasn't him. His life was practical, grounded. Work. Study. Sleep. Repeat.
He sighed, turning away and heading home.
Sunday Noon – Kagawa Residence
As he approached his house, something felt off.
The front door was slightly open.
Ryota froze, his hand instinctively tightening around his grocery bag.
Ryota(Muttering): I swear I locked that...
He cautiously stepped inside.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee drifted through the air. On the couch sat a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark polo — smiling.
Kagawa Yori. His father.
A towering 6'6" figure, muscles built from years of professional basketball.
Ryota: Dad? What are you doing here? I thought you were at work.
Yori(Grinning): What, I can't visit my own son?
Ryota(Shrugging): It's just... surprising. You still care, even though I didn't inherit your physique or talent.
Yori(Laughing): Hah! You think that's what matters to me? Son, you're living your life well. You run a business, go to school, stay out of trouble. I'm proud of you. Not everyone has to play basketball. Everyone's born for something different.
Ryota didn't know how to respond. He just walked to the kitchen and started preparing lunch.
The two of them ate together — grilled fish, miso soup, and rice. It was quiet but warm. The kind of silence that didn't need words.
After the meal, Yori reached into his wallet and placed a thick envelope on the table.
Yori: Here. For you.
Ryota blinked in disbelief. Inside was a bundle of yen — roughly 350,000.
Ryota(Shocked): This much? Why?
Yori: To help with the bakery. Pay your staff properly, keep the place running. And maybe buy yourself something nice for once.
Ryota: You really don't have to—
Yori: I know. But I want to.
He gave his son a firm pat on the shoulder, then stood.
Yori: Take care of yourself, Ryota. Eat more, yeah? You look like you could be blown away by the wind.
Ryota(Smirking): Maybe that's the only way I'll fly.
Yori laughed, grabbing his car keys as he headed to the door.
Yori: Don't forget, I'll come by again soon. Maybe next time we can shoot some hoops together.
Ryota: Yeah, maybe.
The car engine started outside, then faded down the street.
And Ryota was alone again.
He sat on the couch, staring blankly at the TV screen. Basketball highlights still played — flashy dunks, impossible passes, perfect teamwork.
He leaned back, exhaling slowly.
For a moment, the world felt painfully quiet.
He had money, comfort, freedom. But there was something missing — something that made his chest feel hollow.
He didn't know what it was.
Maybe it was purpose.
Maybe it was passion.
Maybe... it was the feeling of being alive again.
He looked at his hands — thin, pale, trembling slightly from caffeine.
Ryota(Whispering): I just... wish I could be strong too.
Outside, a basketball bounced faintly in the distance. The sound echoed through the empty streets.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Ryota turned toward the window, eyes narrowing slightly.
Something about that rhythm felt strange — too perfect, too sharp.
He didn't know it yet, but that sound marked the beginning of everything.
The start of a game far beyond his imagination.
A game that would test not only his body... but his soul.
To be continued...