Tetsuo landed softly, the soles of his sneakers gripping the floor with a muted squeak. His arms hung loose at his sides, his chest rising and falling slowly. A faint breeze from the gym's industrial fans stirred his dark hair, brushing strands across his forehead. Sweat clung to his neck and the back of his shirt, but his eyes stayed locked on the rim. He blinked once, then slowly turned to face Makoto and the others. His expression didn't change—no grin, no hint of pride or disbelief. Just that same unreadable calm, as though sinking a three-pointer was no different from tying his shoes.
"Hey, Kawaguchi, I didn't know you could play," Makoto said, his eyes wide in surprise. He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his arm, his breaths still a little uneven from the pace of the game.
"I just got lucky, that's all," Tetsuo replied, brushing his fingertips across his temple to swipe away a drop of sweat. His breathing stayed steady, almost unnaturally so for someone who had been sprinting minutes ago.
"Whoa, Tetsuo, dude, that was freaking awesome!" Noboru slapped him on the back, the impact ringing out with a sharp smack that made Tetsuo flinch just a little. The sting stayed there for a second.
"I totally lucked out picking you for this!"
The thud of shoes slamming against the polished wooden floor echoed around the gym as players shuffled back to their sides. The gym's ceiling fans hummed overhead, casting thin shadows across the court. Naomi jogged toward them, her short black hair bouncing with each step. She raised a clenched fist high, a grin stretching across her face.
"We're doing great, guys! Let's win this thing!"
Off to the side of the court…
"Takahiro, do you know that first-year?" Yukio asked, arms folded tight across his chest, the fabric of his jersey bunched at the elbows. His sharp eyes were pinned on Tetsuo, watching the boy's posture, the way he stood, the way he moved.
"Nope. First time I've seen him. I didn't see him in any junior high matches either," Takahiro replied, shaking his head.
"This guy just popped up on the radar, but that shot he made was flawless…" Yukio's brow twitched. His fingers tapped restlessly against his biceps. Something in his gut twisted—an unease he couldn't explain. "Where did this guy come from?" His heart picked up pace, the dull thudding in his chest now impossible to ignore. "Whatever the case… maybe this time, if I play this smart, we might actually make it."
Somewhere else in the building…
The hallway was dimmer, quiet except for the faint echo of the game from the gym. Sachiko walked slowly, the rubber soles of her indoor shoes squeaking faintly on the polished wooden planks. A soft clack followed each step as her heel touched down. Her thoughts churned restlessly, one image flashing again and again in her mind—Tetsuo's face. That quiet stare.
"Something about Tetsuo Kawaguchi… it reminds me so much of him…" she whispered to herself. She bit her bottom lip, worry flickering in her eyes. "Tetsu-kun always carried around that worn-out basketball. He could play, just like this one. And he had a little sister too… that girl from yesterday—she looks just like her."
She stopped walking. Her hands tightened into fists at her sides. A chill spread down her spine, crawling like tiny spiders across her arms.
"There's no other explanation… it has to be him."
Back in the gym…
From the other side of the court, a student with a red headband pushed off from the wall and cracked his knuckles. "A victory for Class 1T! Twenty-nine to zero! Not half bad!
But we'll show them how it's really done, right, Liam?" he said with a smirk.
"Yeah. Just like we practiced," Liam replied. His voice was cheerful but sharp, like a blade tucked in a sheath. His eyes scanned the court with focus.
The next game began. The ball was tossed high. Sneakers squeaked and slid across the floor as bodies collided in a scramble for possession. The match between Classes 1O and 1S ended in ten minutes—ten to six.
From the sidelines, Shino clenched the hem of his jersey, his hands clammy. "We might really have a shot at this," he murmured to himself.
Back on the court, Hayato bounced the ball between his legs with ease, his shoes whispering across the floor. "Are you ready, Liam? Let's go crush them."
Liam gave a subtle nod, already moving toward center court. The overhead gym lights beamed down harshly, catching the pale gleam of his skin and the dark circles beneath his eyes.
The whistle blew.
The ball shot upward, and Liam launched himself with one clean motion. His footwork was silent but explosive. The fabric of his jersey rippled as he leapt. His fingertips tipped the ball toward Hayato before anyone else even reacted.
Yukio leaned forward. "How have I never noticed this second-year before?" His voice was low. "His wingspan… it's insane. His reach covers the sky."
"Fast break!!!" Hayato's voice boomed through the gym as he tore down the court. The rubber soles of his sneakers screeched against the polished floor. He hurled the ball forward like a missile.
Liam caught it mid-stride, his palm swallowing the ball whole. The rhythm of his footsteps—pound, pound—shook the floor slightly. He took two long strides, coiled his legs, and launched skyward. A second later, he slammed the ball into the rim with a metal-clanging force that made the backboard quiver.
"That was a badass dunk!" someone on the sidelines shouted, their voice shrill with awe.
"That guy's crazy tall! Is he an athlete?!" a third-year girl asked, rising onto her toes to get a better view.
"I think that's Liam Ainsworth," Yukio muttered, his fingers tightening on his arm. "A foreign exchange student. He transferred in during our second year."
"Didn't he come to Japan for track? He wanted to go pro, right?" Takahiro chimed in.
"Yeah, but it looks like he's more than decent at basketball."
The game pushed on.
Hayato moved swiftly, gliding across the court. His breath puffed out in bursts. He snatched the ball from a distracted opponent, weaving through defenders. He pulled up at the arc and released a smooth mid-range shot. The swish echoed cleanly across the gym.
A desperate layup from an opposing player ended abruptly when Liam's palm smacked the ball out of midair. The slap was sharp and echoed like a gunshot. Gasps followed.
The ball skidded across the hardwood.
Liam was already chasing it. He darted downcourt, faster than expected for his size. Hayato met him with a no-look pass. Liam twisted midair and delivered a reverse dunk that sent the rim rattling and the crowd into a frenzy.
"That guy is a beast! That's it, Liam! Kick some ass!"
"I feel sorry for them. 2O isn't letting up—they're relentless," one girl whispered, tugging her sleeves.
"He's a freak of nature. No way they're losing this," said a boy shaking his head.
"Here you go, Liam! Another slam dunk!" Hayato tossed another crisp pass.
Liam grinned faintly. "Yeah, yeah—I got it." His hands caught the ball with a solid thump. He launched up, slammed it home. The net snapped sharply. The rim trembled.
On the sidelines…
"Ma… Makoto, look at the scoreboard!" Shino's voice cracked.
Makoto's eyes darted up. 42 to 0. His breath caught in his throat. Sweat slid down his temple.
What the hell… forty-two to zero in ten minutes?
"Unfortunately, if we win our next game, they're our next opponents," Naomi muttered.
"Yeah… it's too bad for them—because I'm here," Noboru said with a cocky grin, spinning the ball on his fingertip.
Naomi exhaled, her shoulders sagging. He's still the same loudmouth from junior high.
"Do you think we can actually beat that guy, Kurai?" Naomi asked.
Makoto's eyes didn't leave Liam.
"There's always a way to win. Even this has a solution." His fingers tapped a rhythm against his elbow.
"I don't know… he's seriously scary."
"Yeah, but basketball isn't just about height and hops. There are plenty of ways to be effective." Makoto's gaze sharpened. "We'll find one."
Back on the court…
"The next matchup is Class 2O vs. Class 2S!" the PE teacher bellowed.
A boy from 2S instantly raised his hand. "Um… we forfeit! We're not getting embarrassed in front of all these girls!"
"Suit yourself," Hayato replied, already walking toward the bench and unscrewing a water bottle.
"Why did they forfeit so fast? I mean, I get it, but…" Makoto frowned, watching them walk off.
"So we'll get to see 1T vs. 2O sooner than expected," Yukio said under his breath, his heart beginning to race again.
"You guys get a five-minute break before the next match," the PE teacher announced.
Makoto stood with his hands on his chin, scanning the court as he paced slowly. Sweat dripped from his chin onto the hardwood.
Okay… the headband guy's running guard. Liam's their center. The others? Just filler players. That's our opening.
He turned to his team.
"Takemoto, Kawaguchi—I need you both to double-team that tall player. It's a gamble, but it's our best shot."
Noboru cracked his knuckles. "Don't sweat it. We've got this, right, Tetsuo?"
Tetsuo gave a small nod, wiping his palms on his shorts. "Yeah."
"Nakamura, Katsuragi—you'll have to guard three players between you. Can you handle that?"
Naomi smirked. "So you're leaving the extras to us, huh? Got it."
"You ready, Katsuragi?" Naomi asked.
"Y-yeah! I'm ready! Let's win this!" Katsuragi's fists trembled slightly, but fire flickered in his eyes.
Makoto's eyes returned to Hayato.
And I've got him—their mastermind. All we can do now… is trust my analysis is right.