The sharp squeak of rubber soles echoed across the polished wood floor, blending with the rhythmic thumps of a basketball as it ricocheted between eager hands. The after-school gym buzzed with energy—grunts of exertion, sneakers scuffing in short bursts, the occasional swish of net. The team was running a demanding three-player drill designed to push their stamina and sharpen their passing reflexes.
Yukio started with the ball at center court. With a clean snap of his wrists, he passed it to Takahiro and sprinted behind him, sliding into position.
Takahiro caught the pass mid-step and, without slowing down, fired the ball to Hayato. He then dashed behind Hayato in a blur of movement, barely giving himself time to breathe.
Hayato wasted no time. The ball hit his palms with a satisfying smack, and in the same motion, he pivoted and passed it back to Yukio. Yukio, already anticipating the movement, flung it toward Takahiro again. The pass was low but crisp, and Takahiro lunged, caught it cleanly, and slashed through the paint toward the basket.
One step. Two. He went up, gliding past the imaginary defender, and finished with a smooth layup.
The ball kissed the backboard and dropped through the net with a satisfying swish.
"You're surprisingly keeping up with us, Nakajima. Not bad," Takahiro said, wiping sweat off his brow with his shirt.
"And even after sustaining a severe injury… How's your leg now?" Yukio asked, jogging up beside him.
Hayato rotated his ankle slightly and grinned. "It's good! Feels like it was never broken in the first place. I'm fully healed and ready."
"Oh, I see. Well then, at least you'll survive Nanaho's harsh training regimens," Takahiro said with a sly grin, nudging him.
Hayato chuckled. "Don't jinx it."
Yukio clapped once. "Alright, guys. Let's run that drill again—this time, Hayato will be the finisher."
Both teammates nodded, already positioning themselves for the next rotation.
"That's the spirit, guys! Keep it up!" shouted Nanaho from the sidelines, clipboard in hand.
Away from the fast-paced drill, the rhythmic pounding of a lone basketball bounced near the bleachers. Shino bent slightly at the knees, palms wide, concentrating hard as he attempted to maintain a steady dribble.
"Fukazawa-senpai, am I dribbling the ball right?" he asked, eyes locked on the ball.
Nanaho observed for a moment. "Not bad, but your form's a little crooked. And your wrist movement is a bit stiff. But it'll improve over time if you keep at it," she said, flashing him a thumbs-up.
"I see! Thank you so much!" Shino exclaimed, face lighting up with renewed enthusiasm.
"Here, let me help." Nanaho stepped behind him, adjusting his shoulders and straightening his spine. "Keep your back like this, and your off-hand up—like you're shielding the ball. That'll train your muscles to protect against defenders. And keep your chin up. You'll need to see the court around you."
"Like this?" Shino asked, adjusting accordingly.
"Yes, much better. Keep it up!" she encouraged.
Just a few feet away, the sound of harsh dribbling accompanied heavy breathing. Noboru was pacing in tight circles, his expression tight with frustration.
"Damn it," he muttered, slamming the ball down. "Why am I over here doing basics? I should be with my seniors on the main court—not stuck in a corner dribbling a damn ball!"
He glared at Shino. "I can't take this anymore! Why should a naturally talented athlete like myself be placed in a corner doing drills with this amateur?!"
Shino stiffened. "Amateur? Is he talking about me?" His face turned slightly red, both embarrassed and a little hurt.
"Haven't we been over this already?" Nanaho sighed, turning toward Noboru with her arms crossed. "You need the fundamentals before you can play effectively. You lack control."
"My dribbling is actually decent, so there's no need to work on it! Look!" Noboru dropped into a flashy stance and attempted to dribble between his legs—but the ball slipped from his grip and rolled across the floor.
Nanaho pinched the bridge of her nose. "See? That's exactly what I mean. You can't just skip steps. Learn to control the ball, and turnovers like that won't happen."
The ball bounced once—then stopped at someone's feet.
Tetsuo Kawaguchi.
He picked it up calmly, brushing stray hair from his forehead.
All eyes turned to him.
"Oh, it's Kawaguchi—the main talk of Class 1T. Why are you here?" Noboru asked, surprised.
Shino blinked. "Kawaguchi? What's he doing here…?"
"Oh, Kawaguchi!" Nanaho said, smiling. "What brings you to the gym?"
Tetsuo passed the ball back to Noboru without a word, then turned to face them.
"I'm here to join the basketball team."
Yukio's eyes widened. He stepped forward. "I thought you had a lot of responsibilities at home. What changed?"
"Let's just say… my passion for the sport influenced me to join. And leave it at that."
Yukio stared at him for a beat longer, then nodded. "That works for us. Doesn't really matter why you're here—I'm just glad that you are."
He extended a hand. "Welcome to the team, Tetsuo Kawaguchi."
Tetsuo took it with a firm grip. Their eyes locked for a second—silent understanding between future teammates.
Nanaho smiled faintly. The captain is trying to hide it, but he's boiling with excitement. Maybe this year, you'll achieve your dream, Yukio…
"So, you're the first-year who wanted to be our manager this season?" Yukio asked. "Nice to meet you! I'm Yukio Hamaguchi. And you are?"
"Nanaho Fukazawa is my name," she replied.
"I see. What a nice name—it suits you! Well, let's do our best, Fukazawa."
"No… We will definitely make it this time around—now that he has help," Nanaho thought to herself.
"Hey, Tetsuo! It's been a couple of days, hasn't it?" Hayato called out.
Tetsuo tilted his head slightly, confused.
"You and your class did great during the mini-tournament. I'm looking forward to playing alongside you."
Tetsuo stared for a moment, then said, "I'm sorry, but… who are you?"
Hayato's face fell. "Huh?! You already forgot about me…?"
Tetsuo laced up his training shoes and stood up, testing the grip. The cushioning felt perfect—the fit snug but flexible.
"They fit perfectly… My sister sure knows a lot about shoes," he thought.
"Big brother, your feet are so big the store owner barely had any shoes that fit!" Usagi had said, giggling.
"My feet aren't that big for my height."
"I wear a six and a half, so compared to mine, they're huge!"
"Well… I guess that's true."
"Wait! This one looks perfect, doesn't it? Green and black! So cool!"
"That pair is durable and flexible—ideal for a young athlete like yourself," said the store owner. "Shall we ring it up?"
"Yes. I'll take them."
"Good choice. Spend your hard-earned money on yourself sometimes."
"I'll definitely put them to good use. Thanks, Usagi."
"Before we continue," Yukio said, "can you show me that shot you made during gym class?"
"Yes! I'd like to see it again too," added Hayato.
Tetsuo stepped calmly to the top of the key, picked up a ball, and took one bounce. He planted his feet, rose up, and released.
Swish.
The net rippled with a clean snap, no rim, no hesitation. The ball fell like it knew exactly where to go.
"No matter how many times I see it…" Yukio whistled. "I can't believe how perfect your form is."
"The sound the ball makes when it hits the net—it has a different tune," Hayato said quietly. "Not even my shot does that."
Tetsuo didn't respond. He simply retrieved the ball and passed it to the next player.
Watching from the corner, Shino clenched his fists around the basketball. Tetsuo is truly amazing… He scored that shot so effortlessly…
"I will focus and train harder," he told himself, resuming his dribble with sharp intensity. I will not lose to him. I will be better.
"Oh, hell yeah! We'll definitely be a greater team now that he's here!" Noboru exclaimed, fired up despite himself.
Yukio clapped. "Alright, everyone! Back to training!"
The gym lit up again with the flurry of squeaking shoes, bouncing balls, and laughter echoing through its high ceiling.
And just like that, practice resumed—with a new team member, a reignited goal, and a promise of greatness.