Momoharu picked up the basketball, dribbling it slowly. His hands were scraped, his knuckles bloody, but his grip on the ball was firm. Blood still dripped from the cut above his eyebrow.
"I gave up on basketball in my second year of middle school," Momoharu said quietly, not looking at Sora. "We lost in the preliminaries. Badly. I was the captain, and I couldn't do anything. Couldn't make my shots when it counted. Couldn't lead my team. Couldn't... fly."
He dribbled toward the basket, gaining speed.
"Everyone told me I had potential. Great athleticism, good instincts. But I choked. Every important game, I choked. So I quit. Dyed my hair. Became what everyone already thought I was—a delinquent with nothing better to do."
Momoharu took off, exploding toward the rim.
"But watching you yesterday, shooting a thousand times in the rain, in the dark, when no one was watching..." He rose into the air, seeming to defy gravity. "It reminded me why I started playing in the first place."
He slammed the ball through the rim with both hands, the sound echoing across the empty court.
BOOM!
Momoharu hung on the rim for a moment, then dropped down, landing smoothly despite his injuries.
He turned to Sora, and for the first time since they'd met, Momoharu was genuinely smiling.
"Not because I wanted to win. Not because people had expectations. But because for those few seconds in the air..." He looked at his hands, then back at Sora. "I could fly."
Sora felt tears prickling at his eyes, though whether from emotion or pain, he couldn't tell.
"That's why I play too," Sora said softly. "My mom used to say I had wings. That being short wasn't a weakness—it just meant I had to learn to fly differently than everyone else."
Momoharu walked over, putting a hand on Sora's shoulder. It was gentle, careful of his injuries.
"Alright, idiot," Momoharu said. "Here's the deal. Starting now, we practice. Real practice. No more hanging out and pretending. We're going to rebuild this team."
"Really?" Sora's eyes widened.
"Really. But first—" Momoharu's expression hardened with determination. "We're accepting that bastard's challenge."
"Challenge?"
"The Shinmaruko guys. Before they left, they challenged Kuzuryu to a practice match. One week from now." Momoharu's smile turned fierce. "We're going to destroy them. On the court, where it matters."
Sora grinned despite the pain radiating through his body. "Then we better get the others to start practicing too."
"One thing at a time," Momoharu said. "First, let's see what you can do. And maybe..." He looked at his hands, frustration creeping into his voice. "Maybe you can help me figure out why my shooting is so terrible now."
[Quest Complete: Earn Momoharu's Respect]
[Reward: Unlocked]
[New Quest Available: Rebuild the Team]
[Objective: Convince all team members to practice seriously]
[Time Limit: 7 days until Shinmaruko match]
[Reward: Player Card Draw Ticket (Normal Tier) x1]
[Bonus Objective: Win the Shinmaruko match]
[Bonus Reward: Skill Training Scroll (Intermediate) x2]
Sora read the quest notification, then grabbed a basketball despite his aching ribs.
"Call me captain," Momoharu corrected himself. "If we're doing this, we're doing it right. I'm the captain. Chiaki's... well, Chiaki's Chiaki. And you're the rookie who's going to help me remember how to fly."
Sora nodded, moving to the three-point line despite his injuries. His enhanced stamina was already helping him recover faster than normal, though the pain was still significant.
He set his feet, brought the ball up, and released.
SWISH.
Momoharu's eyebrows rose. "Your form... it's different from yesterday. More polished. Smoother."
Sora moved to another spot, shot again. Another swish.
He moved around the three-point arc, shooting from different angles. Five shots. Five makes.
"How the hell did you improve so much overnight?" Momoharu asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. "And how are you even moving after that beating?"
"Practice," Sora said simply, which was technically true. "And adrenaline, I guess. But Captain, about your shooting—can I see you take a few shots?"
Momoharu moved to the free-throw line, his expression darkening. "You're going to see how bad it is."
He set up, shot. The ball hit the back of the rim and bounced out.
"See? Pathetic."
"Again," Sora said.
Momoharu shot again. This one hit the front of the rim.
"One more."
The third attempt rattled around the rim twice before falling out.
"Okay, I get it!" Momoharu threw the ball at Sora in frustration. "I suck. Happy now?"
Sora caught it easily, his enhanced reflexes making it simple. "No, Captain. You don't suck. Your form is actually decent. You just need to understand the fundamentals better."
"The fundamentals?" Momoharu scoffed. "I know the fundamentals. I've been playing basketball since elementary school."
"Then why are you missing?" Sora challenged. "Let me ask you something—when you shoot, what are you thinking about?"
"About making it go in, obviously."
"But HOW are you making it go in? What's your process?"
Momoharu stared at him. "I... don't know. I just shoot."
"That's the problem," Sora said. "You're trying to be a feeling-type shooter, like me. But you don't know how to feel the shot because you're too focused on the result."
"What the hell does that mean?" Momoharu's frustration was evident.
Sora dribbled the ball, thinking about how to explain. Thanks to his integration of Himuro's orthodox form and Hyūga's technical precision, he could see shooting in a way he never had before. It wasn't just feeling anymore—he understood the mechanics, the science, the art.
"Okay, let me put it differently," Sora said. "Every person has their own unique shooting style based on their personality and body. You're naturally athletic, explosive. Your shooting form should match that energy."
"That still doesn't tell me how to make more shots!"
"Because I haven't gotten to the important part yet!" Sora shot back. "Listen—shooting isn't just about your arms. It starts from your feet."
He demonstrated, setting his feet shoulder-width apart. "Your base determines everything. If your feet are aligned wrong, your whole shot is off. See how my feet are pointing toward the basket? Both of them, not just one."
Momoharu looked down at his own feet. "I... never really thought about it."
"Then there's the squat," Sora continued, bending his knees. "You're generating power from your legs, not your arms. Most people think shooting is an upper body motion, but it's not. The power comes from your legs driving upward."
He went through the motion slowly. "As you rise, your elbow needs to be aligned—90 degrees, pointing at the basket. Your shooting hand should be under the ball, guide hand on the side for balance only."
Momoharu was actually paying attention now, watching Sora's form carefully.
"The release happens at the peak of your jump," Sora explained. "Your fingers are what give the ball rotation—the last thing to touch should be your index and middle finger. And your eyes? They should be locked on your target. Not the ball, not the rim, but the spot where you want the ball to go through."
He demonstrated in slow motion, then at full speed. The ball went through with a perfect swish.
"It's all connected," Sora said. "Feet, knees, elbow, wrist, fingers, eyes. One fluid motion. If any part is off, the whole shot suffers."
Momoharu blinked. "That's... actually helpful. But earlier you said you were a feeling-type shooter. That sounds pretty technical."
"I am a feeling-type shooter," Sora admitted. "But that doesn't mean I ignore the fundamentals. The technical stuff becomes automatic after enough practice. Then I can focus on feeling whether the shot will go in."
"So I need to think about all that every time I shoot?"
"At first, yes. Until it becomes muscle memory. Then you can just... shoot." Sora smiled. "That's what I mean by shooting for it to go in. Once the mechanics are automatic, you can focus purely on making the basket."
"You're making it sound both simple and complicated at the same time," Momoharu said, but he was already moving to the free-throw line again. "It's annoying."
"Maybe you're just slow at understanding," Sora countered with a grin.
"What did you say?!"
"I said maybe you should try applying what I just taught you instead of complaining!"
"I wasn't complaining, I was—"
"You were definitely complaining—"
"I'll show you complaining, you little—"
"Oh, this is interesting."
Both of them turned to see Madoka standing at the court entrance, a small smile on her face as she watched their heated exchange.
"How long have you been standing there?" Momoharu asked, his tone defensive.
"Long enough to see you two arguing like an old married couple," Madoka said, her smile widening. "It's nice."
"It's not nice," Momoharu grumbled. "And we're not arguing, we're... discussing basketball strategy."
"Is that what we're calling it?" Sora asked innocently.
Madoka laughed. "I can't believe it. You two became friends all of a sudden."
"We're not friends," Momoharu said quickly. "We're teammates. There's a difference."
"If you say so, Captain," Madoka teased. Then her expression shifted to curiosity. "But what are you both doing here so late? And why are you covered in blood and bruises?"
"Long story," Momoharu said. "But hey, didn't your team have a match today?"
"It got canceled," Madoka replied, her disappointment evident. "The other school had some issue with their gym. We'll have to reschedule."
"Well, since you're here—" Momoharu's expression turned serious. "The Shinmaruko guys challenged us to a practice match. One week from now. I'm thinking we should make it official, get permission from the school advisor."
Madoka's eyes widened. "A real match? Against Shinmaruko? But your team doesn't even practice!"
"We will now," Momoharu said firmly. "Starting tomorrow. And I want to do this properly—registered game, officials, everything. Can you help with the paperwork?"
"Of course!" Madoka's face lit up with genuine joy. "I'll talk to the advisor first thing tomorrow. This is... this is amazing, Hanazono-senpai. I never thought I'd see the day when you'd take basketball seriously again."
"Yeah, well." Momoharu looked away, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "This idiot convinced me."
"Hey! I have a name!"
"I know. I'm just not using it."
As Madoka left to start preparing the documentation, Momoharu turned back to Sora.
"Alright. One more thing before we're done for today. We need to tell the others about the match."
"The others?" Sora's enthusiasm dimmed. "You mean Chucky, Yasuhara, and Nabe?"
"Yeah. They're still technically team members, even if they've never played a real game. They deserve to know what's happening."
------
Sora stood before Chucky, Yasuhara, and Nabe, all three of whom were lounging around as usual. Momoharu leaned against the lockers, arms crossed, watching.
"So," Sora began, "we have news. There's a practice match scheduled. One week from now. Against Shinmaruko High."
The three delinquents exchanged glances.
"Wait," Yasuhara said slowly. "Shinmaruko? As in, the guys who jumped you earlier today?"
"The same ones," Sora confirmed.
"So you want another fight?" Chucky stood up, cracking his knuckles menacingly. "Because I'm ready to—"
"Not a fight," Sora interrupted. "A basketball game. On the court. With rules and referees and everything."
The three of them stared at him like he'd grown a second head.
"You're kidding, right?" Nabe said flatly. "We don't know how to play basketball. Like, at all."
"Then I'll teach you," Sora said simply.
"In one week?" Yasuhara laughed harshly. "Kid, we've never even been in a real game. We don't know the rules. We can barely dribble—actually, I don't think any of us can dribble. What makes you think—"
"Because it's another way to fight," Sora interrupted, his voice taking on an edge. "You want to get back at Shinmaruko for earlier? This is how. We show them our way of basketball. We beat them on the court, where it actually matters, where they can't just use bats and numbers to overwhelm us."
That got their attention.
"Our way of basketball?" Chucky repeated slowly, interest flickering in his eyes.
"Your way," Sora confirmed, warming to his theme. "Look, you guys are tough. You're strong. You're not afraid of anything. That's what makes you good at fighting, right? Well, basketball can be a fight too. It's about dominating your opponent, showing them they can't beat you, breaking their will."
He could see them considering it, the competitive fire that made them delinquents in the first place starting to kindle.
"It's physical. It's aggressive. It's about proving you're better than someone else," Sora continued. "The only difference is you use a ball instead of your fists. But the mentality? It's exactly the same."
The three delinquents looked at each other, some silent communication passing between them.
"Fine," Yasuhara said finally. "One chance. But if this is boring, we're out."
"Deal," Sora agreed, relief flooding through him.
-----
Outdoor Basketball Court - The Next Day After School
Sora stood before the three delinquents, a basketball in hand. His ribs still ached from yesterday's beating, but his enhanced stamina had helped him recover enough to practice.
"First lesson: dribbling. It's the foundation of everything. You can't do anything in basketball if you can't control the ball."
He demonstrated, bouncing the ball with his right hand, then his left, then between his legs with fluid precision thanks to his skills.
"Looks easy," Chucky said confidently.
"Then try it," Sora tossed him the ball.
Chucky bounced it once. Twice. On the third bounce, he lost control and the ball rolled away.
"Harder than it looks," he admitted grudgingly.
"That's why we practice," Sora said patiently. "Yasuhara, you're up."
Yasuhara took the ball, tried to dribble while walking forward. He managed three bounces before the ball hit his foot and careened off at an angle.
"This is stupid," he muttered, embarrassment coloring his cheeks.
"Nabe, your turn."
Nabe was even worse. He couldn't maintain control for more than one bounce, the ball seeming to have a mind of its own.
From the fence, the girls' basketball team had gathered to watch, drawn by curiosity about the notorious delinquents actually trying to play basketball.
Sora tried to position himself to block their view. "Okay, Yasuhara, try again. Remember—push down, don't slap. Control the ball, don't let it control you."
Yasuhara tried again, concentrating hard. The ball bounced once, twice, three times—
Then it slipped from his control, bounced at an awkward angle, and hit Chucky square in the forehead with a loud THWACK.
"OW! What the hell!" Chucky rubbed his forehead, glaring at Yasuhara.
"It slipped!" Yasuhara protested.
"You're terrible at this!"
"So are you!"
From the fence, the girls' basketball team erupted in laughter. They'd been trying to stay quiet, but the sight of the ball bouncing off Chucky's head was too much.
Chucky's face turned bright red. "That's it. I'm done. This is humiliating."
"Same," Yasuhara said, throwing the ball down in frustration. "We're not doing this. We're not becoming the school's laughingstock just so you can play your stupid game."
"But we just started!" Sora protested. "Everyone's bad at first—"
"No buts," Nabe added, his own face flushed with embarrassment. "We're out. Find someone else to make fun of."
The three of them stormed off the court, pushing past the still-giggling girls.
Sora stood there, deflated, the basketball at his feet.
Momoharu, who'd been watching from the sidelines, walked over.
"Let them go," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "I told you—one week isn't enough time to teach complete beginners how to play. It's impossible. We'll have to figure something else out."
"But we need them!" Sora protested. "We don't have enough players otherwise!"
"We'll manage," Momoharu said, though his expression suggested he wasn't entirely sure how. "Come on. Let's continue our own practice. We've got six days left."
-------
Momoharu and Chiaki stood in front of a display of basketball shoes. Momoharu was examining a pair of black and red high-tops, checking the price tag with careful attention.
"You're really buying those?" Chiaki asked, surprised. He was munching on a snack he'd bought from the convenience store next door. "When did you become so responsible with money?"
"I'm always responsible," Momoharu said, though his tone suggested otherwise. "Unlike some people who spend their entire allowance on snacks and arcade games within the first week."
"Hey, that's called living life to the fullest," Chiaki defended himself with a grin. "But seriously, bro. We get the same allowance. How did you save up for these? They're not cheap."
"I'm thrifty," Momoharu said simply, picking up the shoes to test their weight and flexibility. "I don't waste money on stupid things."
"Since when?" Chiaki's grin widened. "Last month you bought three different hair products trying to get your bleached hair to look 'perfect.'"
"Shut up," Momoharu muttered, but there was no real heat in it.
Chiaki studied his brother for a moment, his expression turning more serious. "You've changed lately, you know. Ever since that short kid joined the team. You're different."
Momoharu was quiet for a moment, still examining the shoes. Then: "Basketball hasn't been boring anymore. For the first time in two years, I actually want to practice. Want to get better. Want to... fly again."
"That's good, bro," Chiaki said softly. "I'm glad. I missed seeing you like this."
Momoharu looked at his brother, surprised by the sincerity. They didn't often have serious conversations.
"Yeah, well," Momoharu said, his usual gruffness returning. "Don't get used to it. I'm still going to kick your ass if you eat my food from the fridge."
"Some things never change," Chiaki laughed.
Momoharu purchased the shoes, the clerk wrapping them carefully. As they left the store, Chiaki spoke up again.
"So, you think you can actually win against Shinmaruko?"
"With that idiot's help?" Momoharu looked at the shoe box in his hands. "Yeah. I think we can."
------
The Next Day - School Hallway
Sora had been trying to catch the three delinquents all morning, but they'd been avoiding him. Finally, he cornered them near the vending machines during lunch break.
"Please," he said without preamble. "Reconsider. We need you for the game."
"Not interested," Yasuhara said flatly, not even looking at him.
"I'll clean the locker room every day for a month."
"Still no."
"I'll buy you guys buns every day! Any kind you want!"
"Tempting," Chucky admitted, "but no."
Sora racked his brain desperately. What would convince them? What could he possibly offer that would—
"I'll go to the gym without my pants on," he said suddenly.
The three delinquents stared at him.
"What?" Nabe said.
"If you agree to practice, I'll go to the gym right now without my pants. In front of everyone. During the girls' team practice."
"You're bluffing," Yasuhara said, but there was uncertainty in his voice.
"Try me," Sora said with absolute seriousness.
They looked at each other, then back at Sora, trying to determine if he was serious.
"Fine," Yasuhara said finally. "You do that, and we'll think about it."
"Not think about it. Agree to it."
"Okay, fine. We'll do it. We'll practice and play in the game. But you have to actually—"
Sora was already unbuttoning his pants.
"Wait, you're serious?!" Chucky's eyes widened.
"Dead serious," Sora said, kicking off his shoes.
"Kid, you don't have to—" Nabe started.
But Sora was already down to his underwear.
"A deal's a deal," Sora said. "And I need you guys for this game."
Then, before his courage could fail him, he stripped completely and started walking toward the gymnasium.
"He's actually doing it," Yasuhara said in disbelief.
"That's... that's dedication," Chucky admitted.
"Or insanity," Nabe added. "Probably both."
-----
Gymnasium - Girls' Basketball Practice
The girls' team was running layup drills when the door burst open.
Sora Kurumatani walked in, completely naked, holding his clothes in front of him in a bundle that covered the most critical areas but left little else to the imagination.
For a moment, there was absolute silence.
Then the screaming started.
"KYAAAAA!"
"WHAT THE—"
"KURUMATANI-KUN?!"
Madoka's face turned so red it was practically purple. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
"Convincing them to play!" Sora gestured toward Chucky, Yasuhara, and Nabe, who had followed to witness the spectacle and were now staring in complete shock.
"He actually did it," Chucky said, his voice filled with something that might have been respect.
"That's... I don't even have words," Yasuhara admitted, shaking his head in amazement.
"Is he insane?" one of the girls' team members asked.
"Definitely," another confirmed.
"But also kind of brave?" a third added uncertainly.
Momoharu appeared from the equipment room, took one look at the scene, and closed his eyes in a long-suffering expression. "Why is my life like this?"
But despite himself, despite the absolute chaos of the situation, he was smiling.
Madoka grabbed a towel and threw it at Sora. "PUT YOUR CLOTHES ON RIGHT NOW!"
"Not until they agree!" Sora said stubbornly, somehow maintaining his dignity despite being completely nude.
"FINE!" Yasuhara shouted over the chaos. "WE'LL DO IT! WE'LL PRACTICE! WE'LL PLAY IN THE GAME! JUST PUT YOUR CLOTHES BACK ON!"
"Really?" Sora's face lit up.
"YES! NOW GET DRESSED BEFORE THE PRINCIPAL SHOWS UP!"
Sora quickly pulled on his clothes, grinning triumphantly even as several girls chased him with brooms and one threw a basketball at his head.
As the chaos continued, Momoharu found himself laughing—actually laughing—for the first time in what felt like years.
"You're insane," he called out to Sora. "Completely insane!"
"But it worked!" Sora called back, dodging another thrown ball.
"Get out! All of you! OUT!" Madoka was herding everyone toward the door, her face still flaming red.
-----
That Night - Kanagawa Hospital
Yuka Kurumatani lay in her hospital bed, looking frailer than she had a month ago. The illness was progressing, but she tried not to let it show when Sora visited.
Her phone buzzed with a message.
She picked it up carefully, her hands trembling slightly, and read:
"Mom, I have a basketball game next week! It's just a practice match, but it's my first real game at Kuzuryu High. I'm working hard. I made some friends—actually, I think they might be my first real friends here. The captain is scary but cool. I hope you're proud of me. I love you."
Tears welled in her eyes as she typed back with shaking fingers:
"I'm always proud of you, Sora. Fly high, my little bird. Show them what you can do. I love you so much."
She set the phone down on the bedside table and closed her eyes, smiling through her tears.
Her son was flying.
He'd found his wings.
And that was all a mother could ask for.
[Quest Progress Updated]
[Team Members Recruited: 5/5]
[Momoharu Hanazono - Captain]
[Chiaki Hanazono - Vice Captain]
[Yasuhara - Forward]
[Nabe - Forward]
[Chucky - Center]
[Days Until Shinmaruko Match: 6]