Sora stood before his assembled team, clipboard in hand—a gift from Madoka who'd raided the girls' team equipment room. The five players looked at him with varying degrees of skepticism.
Momoharu, arms crossed, expression serious. Chiaki, lounging against the fence, looking half-asleep. Yasuhara, Nabe, and Chucky, still embarrassed from yesterday's dribbling disaster.
"Alright," Sora began, channeling every bit of Hyūga's leadership presence that now resided within him. "We have six days. That's not a lot of time, but it's enough if we're smart about it."
"Smart how?" Yasuhara asked suspiciously.
"By focusing on what matters most," Sora explained. "Chucky, Yasuhara, Nabe—you three are beginners. In six days, I can't make you into elite dribblers or shooters. But I can teach you defense, basic layups, and get you in basketball shape."
"What's basketball shape?" Chucky asked.
"You'll find out," Sora said with a slightly evil grin. "Captain, you'll focus on form shooting, defense, and finishing around the rim. Your athleticism is already there—we just need to refine it."
Momoharu nodded. "What about Chiaki?"
Everyone turned to look at the tall twin, who was now actually asleep standing up.
"We'll... deal with that later," Sora decided. "Okay, everyone pair up for warm-ups. We're starting with conditioning."
"Conditioning?" Nabe groaned.
"You can't play basketball if you can't run," Sora said simply. "Two laps around the court. Now."
------
20 minutes later
Yasuhara, Nabe, and Chucky were bent over, hands on knees, gasping for air. Two laps had turned into five when Sora decided they needed to "build a base."
"This... is... torture," Chucky wheezed.
"This is basketball," Sora corrected. "You think you can keep up in a game if you're winded after two minutes? We're just getting started."
He blew the whistle Madoka had also provided. "Line drills! Sprint to the free-throw line and back. Half court and back. Full court and back. Go!"
As the three delinquents suffered through conditioning, Sora pulled Momoharu aside.
"Captain, let's work on your form shooting. We're starting close to the basket—no jumping, just focusing on the mechanics."
Momoharu positioned himself five feet from the rim. "This feels too easy."
"It's supposed to be easy," Sora explained. "We're building muscle memory. Feet, knees, elbow, wrist, fingers, eyes. Remember? Every shot, focus on making it perfect."
Momoharu shot. The ball went in.
"Again. Fifty times from this spot. Every single one has to be perfect form."
"Fifty?!"
"Captain, you were going to shoot a thousand times anyway, right? This is just the first fifty."
Momoharu's expression shifted to understanding, then determination. "You're right. Let's do this."
As Momoharu began his form shooting, Sora returned to the exhausted trio.
"Water break. Two minutes. Then we're learning defensive stance."
"There's more?" Nabe looked like he might cry.
"We've only been practicing for thirty minutes," Sora pointed out. "We have two more hours today."
-----
Sora demonstrated the defensive stance, his enhanced basketball IQ allowing him to break it down into simple components.
"Feet wider than shoulder-width. Knees bent. Butt down. Hands up and active. You're on the balls of your feet, ready to move in any direction."
He moved side to side, showing the slide step. "Never cross your feet. Always slide. If you cross your feet, any decent player will blow right past you."
Yasuhara attempted it, looking awkward and stiff.
"Lower," Sora instructed. "Pretend you're sitting in an invisible chair. There you go. Now slide left. Slide right. Good!"
For the next hour, they practiced defensive slides. Up and back across the court. Side to side. Following Sora as he moved with the ball, teaching them to stay in front.
"Defense isn't about being fast," Sora explained, using knowledge from both Himuro and Hyūga. "It's about anticipation and positioning. Stay between your man and the basket. Make them work for every inch."
Chucky, surprisingly, took to it naturally. His street-fighting instincts translated well to reading an opponent's movements.
"Not bad, Chucky," Sora praised. "You've got good lateral quickness."
"Really?" Chucky's face lit up at the compliment.
Meanwhile, Momoharu had moved to mid-range for his form shooting, now incorporating a small jump. Each shot was deliberate, focused on perfect mechanics rather than speed.
-----
"Okay, now the fun part," Sora announced. "Layups. This is how you'll score most of your points in the game."
He demonstrated a right-handed layup, his form perfect thanks to his integrated abilities. "Right hand, left foot jumps. Left hand, right foot jumps. The ball goes up soft, kisses the backboard, goes in."
He made five in a row, each one textbook perfect.
"Now you try. Yasuhara, you first."
Yasuhara ran toward the basket, jumped off the wrong foot, threw the ball at the backboard like he was trying to break it, and watched it bounce off hard.
"Okay, let's try that again. Slower this time."
By the end of the hour, all three could make a basic layup about half the time. It wasn't great, but it was progress.
"Tomorrow we'll add defense to the layups," Sora said. "You need to make them under pressure."
-----
"This drill teaches you spacing, passing, and running the court together," Sora explained, positioning the three delinquents in a line.
He demonstrated with Momoharu and Chiaki—who had finally woken up enough to participate—showing how the player in the middle passed to the right, then ran behind the receiver. The new middle player passed left, ran behind, and so on, weaving down the court until someone laid it in.
"It's about rhythm and communication," Sora said. "You're learning to play together, not as individuals."
The first attempt was a disaster. Yasuhara passed the ball into Nabe's face. Chucky ran the wrong direction. They collided with each other twice.
"Again!" Sora called out. "Communication! Call for the ball!"
By the fiftieth attempt, they could make it down the court without a turnover about once every three tries.
"Progress," Sora said encouragingly. "We'll do this every day until it's automatic."
Momoharu, watching from the sideline where he was taking a break from shooting drills, couldn't help but be impressed. "You're actually a decent coach, you know that?"
"I'm just teaching what I know," Sora said. "But Captain, you're up. Let's work on your finishing."
------
"Your jumping ability is your biggest weapon," Sora told Momoharu. "We need to make you automatic around the rim."
He had Momoharu practice dunks from different angles. Straight on. From the right. From the left. Catch and dunk. Dribble and dunk.
"Every time you're near the rim, you should be a threat," Sora explained. "The defense has to respect your vertical leap."
Then they moved to defensive drills. Sora used his speed to attack the basket while Momoharu practiced staying in front, contesting shots, and using his athleticism to block.
"Your wingspan is longer than mine," Sora observed. "Use it. Keep your hands up. Make me shoot over you."
They went one-on-one, Sora attacking with various moves while Momoharu learned to read and react.
"You're getting better," Sora said after Momoharu blocked his fifth attempt. "Your instincts are coming back."
------
Day 3 - Outdoor Court
Madoka appeared during practice, the girls' team having finished their own session.
"Need any help?" she offered, watching the chaos of the three-man weave drill.
"Actually, yes," Sora said gratefully. "Could you work with Yasuhara, Nabe, and Chucky on basic shooting form? Just get them comfortable taking shots from close range."
"Of course!" Madoka pulled the three aside. "Okay, let's start with form. Hands like this, elbow in, follow through..."
Sora watched for a moment, satisfied, then turned back to Momoharu.
"Captain, let's work on your mid-range game. You can't just dunk everything."
As practice continued, Sora found himself mentally exhausted despite his enhanced stamina. Being both player and coach was demanding in ways he hadn't anticipated.
-----
Sora sat at his desk, lost in thought. He'd been so focused on training his own team that he'd barely considered their opponents.
What kind of team is Shinmaruko High? Are they actually good? Or are they just delinquents like ours were?
His musings were interrupted when the classroom door slid open.
Chiaki Hanazono walked in, looking completely lost.
"Uh, this isn't my classroom," he said to no one in particular.
Several of Sora's classmates began whispering and snickering.
"Look at his hair..."
"Is that a delinquent?"
"Why is he even in school?"
"Probably can't read..."
The teacher looked up from her desk. "Excuse me, young man. This is a first-year classroom. Sophomores are on the second floor."
"Right, sorry," Chiaki said, turning to leave.
But Sora had heard the whispers. Seen the mocking expressions. His fists clenched under his desk.
-------
Sora found Chiaki lounging in his usual spot, eating snacks.
"Chiaki-senpai, about the game—"
"Not playing," Chiaki interrupted cheerfully.
"What? But—"
"Tomo might show up at the Kawasaki Bridge," Chiaki explained. "I need to be there. Can't risk missing her. And besides, basketball is too much hassle."
"But we need you! You're tall, you're athletic—"
"And you guys are going to lose anyway," Chiaki said matter-of-factly. "The match is unfair, Sora. Shinmaruko has been practicing for months. You're coaching complete beginners. Momoharu hasn't played seriously in two years. The outcome is obvious."
"I don't care," Sora said firmly. "I don't run away from challenges. I never have, I never will. Doesn't matter who the opponent is."
Chiaki studied him for a long moment, then sighed. "You're really something, you know that?"
He pulled out a piece of paper—a perfectly drawn seating chart of Sora's classroom, complete with desk positions and windows.
"I heard what your classmates said," Chiaki said, his usual carefree expression replaced with something harder. "Give me their names. The ones who were talking."
Sora stared at the chart in amazement. "You drew this entire seating arrangement from one glance?"
"Photographic memory," Chiaki tapped his temple.
"Chiaki-senpai, you don't have to—"
"Names, Sora."
Reluctantly, Sora pointed out the students who'd been mocking Chiaki.
"Thanks," Chiaki said, folding the paper carefully. "And about the game... I'll think about it."
It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no either.
-----
Day 4 - Shinmaruko High School
"This is a terrible idea," Momoharu muttered, pulling his hood lower over his bleached hair.
"It's reconnaissance," Sora countered. "We need to know what we're up against."
They'd taken the train to Shinmaruko High's neighborhood, planning to spy on the basketball team's practice.
As soon as they entered the school grounds, a student approached Momoharu.
"Oi, what's with the thug look? You lost?"
"What did you say?" Momoharu's expression darkened.
"You heard me. Delinquents aren't welcome here—"
"I'm leaving now," Momoharu said through gritted teeth. "But when we play you in basketball, I'm going to make you regret those words."
While Momoharu argued, Sora—thanks to his small size—slipped past unnoticed. He made his way around the building until he found the gymnasium.
The windows were too high for a normal person, but Sora spotted a low one near the equipment room. He pulled himself up to peek inside.
What he saw made his blood run cold.
The Shinmaruko team was practicing. And they weren't a group of delinquents.
They were a real team.
Organized drills. Precise passing. Players who were all at least 175 cm tall, with several over 185 cm.
And then Sora saw him.
A player with fierce eyes and an aggressive style drove to the basket. He jumped, cocked the ball back, and slammed it through the rim with such force that the entire backboard shook.
Shinichi Chiba. Number 7.
Sora's enhanced court vision picked out other strong players. A point guard with quick hands. A shooting guard with smooth form. A center who was nearly 195 cm tall.
We're in trouble, Sora thought.
A voice behind him made him jump.
"Hey there! Are you here to join the team?"
Sora turned to see a friendly-faced player with light brown hair and an easy smile. His jersey read "Tokiwa - #6."
"I... uh..."
"Come on, don't be shy!" Tokitaka Tokiwa grabbed Sora's arm. "We're always looking for enthusiastic freshmen. Let me introduce you to everyone!"
Before Sora could protest, he was being dragged into the gym.
"Chiba-senpai!" Tokiwa called out. "We've got some new freshmen here!"
Shinichi Chiba turned, his intense gaze sweeping over the group of nervous first-years that had gathered—including Sora, who was trying to look inconspicuous.
"Alright, listen up!" Chiba's voice cut through the gym. "Basketball is a sport of height and power. If you're not at least 170 cm tall, you might as well leave now. This isn't a game for short people."
Several of the freshmen looked discouraged. One brave soul spoke up.
"But what about skill? Shouldn't that matter too?"
"Skill can only take you so far," Chiba said bluntly. "In high school basketball, if you're under 170 cm, you're at a fundamental disadvantage. Go join the baseball team or something."
Sora felt his blood boiling.
Screw being inconspicuous.
Tokiwa was running a passing drill with some other players. Sora watched the ball movement, his enhanced court vision tracking the pattern.
The ball came toward Tokiwa. Sora burst forward with his enhanced speed, intercepting the pass cleanly.
"Hey!" Tokiwa shouted. "What are you—"
"If short players can't play basketball," Sora said loudly, dribbling the ball, "then what am I doing with your ball right now?"
The gym went silent.
Chiba turned, his expression darkening. "Tokiwa, get the ball back."
"One-on-one," Tokiwa said, moving into a defensive stance. "You score, you make your point. I stop you, you apologize and leave."
Sora set up at the top of the key. His heart was pounding, but his hands were steady.
He drove right, using a Himuro-style fake to make Tokiwa bite. The defender recovered quickly—he was good.
Sora crossed over left, his enhanced dribbling making the ball seem magnetized to his hand. Tokiwa stayed with him, forcing him baseline.
Exactly where I want to be.
Sora took off for the layup. Tokiwa jumped to contest, his longer reach seemingly making the shot impossible.
But Sora Mid-air, pulled the ball down, away from Tokiwa's outstretched hand. He contorted his body, switching hands, and laid it up with his left hand on the other side of the rim.
A perfect double-clutch layup.
The ball kissed the backboard and dropped through.
The gym erupted in shocked murmurs.
"Did you see that?"
"That was insane!"
"How did someone so short—"
Tokiwa stared in disbelief. "That move..."
Sora landed, breathing hard but grinning. "Height isn't everything. And by the way—" he looked directly at Chiba—"I'm from Kuzuryu High. We're playing you in the practice match. I'm looking forward to it."
He turned and walked toward the exit, his heart pounding with adrenaline.
Behind him, Tokiwa turned to Chiba.
"Why did you agree to play Kuzuryu anyway? They're not even in our league. We should be focusing on Inter-High qualification."
Chiba was quiet for a moment, his eyes still on the door where Sora had exited.
"I wasn't sure about the practice match at first," he admitted. "But that double-clutch... that was the real deal. That kid's got something special."
His fierce expression returned, but now there was excitement in it.
"I want to see what he can really do. What Kuzuryu can really do. This match just got interesting."
-----
Sora returned to find practice in full swing. Momoharu was working on his shooting—now up to the three-point line for form shooting, his mechanics notably improved.
Yasuhara, Nabe, and Chucky were running defensive drills with Madoka, who was teaching them proper positioning.
"How'd it go?" Momoharu asked during a water break.
"They're good," Sora admitted. "Really good. Organized, well-coached, athletic. We're going to have our hands full."
"Scared?" Momoharu asked.
"Excited," Sora corrected. "This is what we've been training for, right? To prove we can compete. To prove that Kuzuryu High basketball matters."
Momoharu grinned, that fierce competitive light returning to his eyes. "Then let's make these last two days count."