On the flight from USA to China
The current national players of USA had gathered on the plane—along with one energetic old man.
Despite his head full of white hair and a face filled with wrinkles, the old man's eyes sparkled with youthful energy.
"Hohohoho! It's been ages since this old man boarded a plane!"
Hands clasped behind his head, he gazed out the window in high spirits.
Clearly, he was in a great mood.
"Whoa! That cloud looks amazing! Nash, Nash! Look at that!"
He slapped his thigh and shook Nash awake, dragging him out of his hard-earned sleep.
Nash felt himself being pulled back to consciousness, frowning, face twisted in irritation. He was just about to blow up at whoever dared disturb him — But when he saw the old man's bright, beaming face, he froze.
"…Huuuuuh."
Taking a long breath, Nash forced himself to calm down, laid back down on his seat, and muttered coldly:
"Old man, if you disturb me like this again, I swear I'm throwing you out through the emergency exit."
Instead of backing down, the old man puffed out his cheeks and glared.
"You little brat! Ever heard of respecting your elders? The proper attitude isn't throwing them off a plane!"
"Heh."
Nash smirked sarcastically.
"I've never seen an elder freak out over a cloud like a five-year-old. Even my ten-year-old nephew acts more mature."
The old man froze — then latched onto the key word.
"You have a nephew? How's his basketball talent?"
Nash: "…"
"Don't get ideas. He's a distant nephew, and he didn't inherit even half a drop of my talent."
To emphasize it, Nash casually flexed his arm. Under the plane lights, his biceps looked almost artistic.
Hearing that, the old man immediately lost all interest in the nephew.
"So tell me—this kid in China who supposedly rivals my defense… is that for real?"
The old man stroked his chin.
"Nash, you really think an old timer like me can be fooled? I've got fifty, sixty years of basketball experience. Don't play games with me."
"If you wanted me to come on vacation to China with you, you could've just said so. No need to make up some defensive prodigy. Tsk, tsk."
Clearly unconvinced, he clicked his tongue.Nash rolled his eyes.
"It's not that his defense is equal to yours. His presence just… reminds me of you. And honestly? I think his defense is better."
Old man: ???
He stomped his foot, completely offended.
Nash shrugged.
"No need to get depressed, old timer. The age gap is huge. Physical ability alone creates a difference."
And that was just the truth—no matter how skilled, a man pushing sixty simply couldn't move like someone in his athletic prime.
The old man grunted, reluctantly accepting it.
Then the plane's announcement chimed through the cabin:
"The plane is about to arrive in China. Please pay attention, passengers."
…
…
Inside the China Men's National Team training gym
Kota and his teammates were running through their warm-ups, just like they would on days when Sun wasn't around.
But today felt different.
"Sss… oh no, oh no! We're about to meet Nash! My outfit isn't weird today, right?"
Zhou Yi nervously rubbed his arms, face tense.
Kota stared at him.
"You're literally wearing the exact same team uniform you wear every single day."
"Phew—!"
Relieved, Zhou Yi pumped a "victory" sign with his right hand, then dramatically mimed swallowing air.
"Let's go! Victory! Zhou Yi, you got this!"
Kota: "…"
Watching him act like an elementary school kid about to perform on stage, Kota's mouth twitched—but he held back the urge to comment.
The upcoming China vs. USA scrimmage wasn't a secret. Pretty much everyone in the Association knew what would happen here today.
Even the stands were unusually full, crowded with Association staff—including Shu.
"You got this, Kota! And everyone—give it your all!"
Kota shot him an OK sign, then continued his signature "dribble warm-up."
Ten minutes later, the gym doors creaked open.
Everyone turned toward the entrance—including Kota.
He sank a free throw and murmured:
"So they're finally here."
Sun walked in alongside the old man from the plane, chatting. Behind them… USA's nine national players.
Kota narrowed his eyes. Sure enough — front and center stood Nash.
Same attitude as always. Wearing the national jersey over his clothes, giant bug-eyed shades on his face, and that cocky grin that basically screamed I'm the villain here.
The moment Kota saw Nash, Nash saw him too.
Removing his sunglasses, he stomped forward and snarled:
"Are you ready to die, kid?"
Kota lifted an eyebrow.
"If you want to lie on the floor, you can start now."
A vein popped on Nash's forehead.
He clearly remembered some unpleasant moments…Like the time Kota tossed him over the shoulder like a rag doll.
As tension filled the air, the old man suddenly stepped beside Kota, took his hand, and shook it cheerfully.
"Hohoho! You're Kota, right? Nash talked about you all the time back in USA!"
"How about it—wanna come play in USA? I could get your nationality changed in less than a week!"
Still holding Kota's hand, the old man subtly checked his physical traits.
"Tsk… that wingspan… just barely over 180? Doesn't look like the static profile of a defensive prodigy… Is Nash messing with me?"
Kota, unaware of the old man's thoughts, gently withdrew his hand.
"Thank you, sir. But I'm very happy here in China."
The old man didn't get upset.Instead, he scratched his head and laughed:
"What a polite kid! Coach Sun—you've got quite the disciple!"
"You flatter me," Sun replied, gesturing for him to take a seat on the bench.
"Judging by all this… he must be their coach," Kota thought. "Why does he look so familiar…? USA's head coach… Wait—!"
He remembered the name.
Kevin Kelly. The most successful coach in USA's history.
Two world championships in ten years. And in his playing days, a global defensive icon—The legendary "Glove" Kelly.
Because his prime was so long ago and his appearance had changed drastically, few people could recognize him now.
Kota had only learned about him when asking Araki, per your memory rules—to gather intel on Nash.
"Looks like today's scrimmage is going to be interesting…"
…
…
As USA warmed up, Sun gathered his players
Starting lineup announcement.
Point guard: no surprise — Kota.
Shooting guard: Zhou Yi, the more experienced option over rookie Xiao Lin.
Small forward: team captain Li Wenyu.
As for power forward and center… Sun hesitated.
USA wasn't just famous for Nash. His teammate Silver — the monstrous big man — was a global name.
A beast of an athlete with brutal physicality and elite measurable attributes. A pure "beast-type" big man.
And against such a titan, China's relatively weak interior lineup had no ideal matchup.
Even Sun, usually calm and reliable, was feeling the pressure.
Kota noticed it too. He glanced at the stands.
The youth national team had also come to watch, including Gao — the big guy who failed to make the senior team during tryouts.
Kota sighed.
"If only that big dude were here today… it'd be so much easier."
But national scrimmages weren't for youth players.
In the end, Sun picked the two interior players with the best physical resistance.
And the training match began…