Sora arrived at school earlier than usual, his body still sore but functional. The system had helped his recovery—his enhanced stamina meant he bounced back faster than a normal person would have after such an intense game.
He was heading to the gym when he ran into Momoharu and the others gathered outside the entrance, looking frustrated.
"What's wrong?" Sora asked.
"We can't use the court today," Yasuhara said, clearly annoyed. "The advisor just told us."
"What? Why not?"
Momoharu held up a schedule sheet. "Rotation system. The gym is shared between volleyball, badminton, and basketball teams. Today's badminton's turn. Tomorrow's volleyball. We don't get the court back until the day after."
"That's ridiculous," Nabe protested. "How are we supposed to practice for Inter-High if we can't even use the gym?"
"We make do," Sora said simply. "Come on. I have an idea."
-----
The badminton team was setting up their nets when they noticed the basketball team gathering on the stage at the far end of the gym—a raised platform typically used for assemblies and performances.
"What are they doing?" one badminton player whispered.
Sora had positioned cones in a zigzag pattern across the stage. "Alright, guys. We can't use the court, but we can still practice fundamentals. Dribbling drills. The stage is small, which means you have to have better ball control."
"This is stupid," Yasuhara muttered. "We look like idiots up here."
"Then let's be idiots who can dribble," Momoharu said. "Come on. Sora's right. We need the practice."
They began running through the cones, dribbling with varying degrees of success. The stage's wooden surface was different from the court—more slippery, requiring better touch and control.
The badminton team had stopped their warm-ups to watch, some of them giggling.
"Look at them!"
"Are they putting on a show?"
"This is hilarious!"
Yasuhara's face turned red. He stopped dribbling and turned to face the badminton team.
"HEY! THIS ISN'T A PERFORMANCE ACT!" he shouted. "WE'RE DOING BASKETBALL PRACTICE! SO MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!"
The badminton players quickly looked away, embarrassed at being called out.
Sora continued his dribbling drills, unfazed by the audience. "Focus, guys. Ignore them. We're here to get better, not to look cool."
Momoharu grinned at his teammate's intensity. "You heard him. Keep going."
----
Chiaki was lounging on a bench when Momoharu entered, closing the door behind him.
"We need to talk," Momoharu said seriously.
Chiaki sat up, his usual carefree expression fading. "This sounds serious."
"It is. I just had a meeting with the school advisor." Momoharu sat down heavily. "Moving forward, we need to be extremely careful. Any type of violence or fighting—even defending ourselves—will get our team disbanded immediately."
"Disbanded?" Chiaki's eyebrows rose. "That's harsh."
"The advisor said our reputation as delinquents has been a problem for years. The only reason they're giving us another chance is because of what happened at the Shinmaruko game. People saw us actually trying to play basketball seriously." Momoharu's expression darkened. "But one incident—one fight, one confrontation with another school, anything—and we're done. No team. No Inter-High. Nothing."
Chiaki was quiet for a moment, processing this. "So if someone from another school tries to start something..."
"We walk away. No matter what they say, no matter what they do."
"That's going to be hard for some of the guys to accept."
"I know. Especially Yasuhara. He's got a short fuse." Momoharu stood up. "But we need to make it clear. Basketball is more important than our pride. We can't throw away this chance."
"I'll help you spread the word," Chiaki said. "Though knowing our luck, someone's going to test us real soon."
-----
Yasuhara, Nabe, and Chucky walked together, still frustrated about not being able to use the gym.
"This is BS," Yasuhara complained. "How are we supposed to get better if we can't even practice properly?"
"At least we have the outdoor court," Nabe offered.
"Yeah, but it's not the same. And it's hot out here—"
Chucky suddenly stopped, pointing. "Hey, look."
On the outdoor court, a freshman was practicing alone. But his movements were different from the typical beginner—fluid, confident, skilled.
The kid executed a smooth crossover, then drove to the basket. His layup was textbook perfect, the ball kissing off the backboard and dropping through.
"Whoa," Nabe said. "That was clean."
"His dribbling is really good," Chucky added. "Better than ours."
Yasuhara approached the court. "Yo! You're pretty good!"
The freshman turned to face them. He was about 165 cm tall with sharp features and an athletic build. His eyes were intense, almost predatory.
"Thanks," he said simply, his tone flat.
"You're a first-year, right? I'm Yasuhara, second-year. These are Nabe and Chucky." Yasuhara smiled. "You should try out for the basketball team. We could use someone with your skills."
The freshman's expression didn't change. "I heard about you guys. The delinquent team that got crushed by Shinmaruko."
Yasuhara's smile faded. "We didn't get crushed. We lost, but we fought hard—"
"84-96. Twelve-point loss. That's getting crushed." The freshman picked up his ball. "Why would I want to join a team of losers and delinquents?"
"What did you say?" Yasuhara's fists clenched.
"I said you're losers. And from the look of you, not even good at basketball. Just thugs pretending to play."
"You little—" Yasuhara stepped forward aggressively.
The freshman's foot shot out, sweeping Yasuhara's legs out from under him. The second-year hit the ground hard.
"Yasuhara!" Nabe and Chucky rushed forward.
The freshman held up a hand. "I wouldn't. Unless you want to join him on the ground."
"Who the hell are you?!" Chucky demanded.
"Kenji Natsume," the freshman said. "But most people call me Tobi. It means 'kite'—because I fly above everyone else on the court."
He looked down at Yasuhara with disdain. "You want me to join your pathetic team? Prove you're worth joining first. Until then, stay out of my way."
----
Sora was walking to the outdoor court when he saw the commotion. He broke into a run, arriving to find Yasuhara on the ground, Nabe and Chucky standing protectively in front of him, and a freshman holding a basketball with a smirk on his face.
"What happened?" Sora asked, helping Yasuhara up.
"This punk knocked me down!" Yasuhara said angrily.
Sora turned to the freshman, his expression calm but his eyes sharp. "You attacked my teammate?"
Kenji—Tobi—looked at Sora, and his smirk widened. "So you're the famous Kurumatani. 74 points in a loss. Impressive scoring. Pathetic result."
"Answer the question. Did you attack him?"
"He got aggressive first. I defended myself." Tobi bounced the ball casually. "Though I have to say, I'm disappointed. I heard Kuzuryu's basketball team was making waves. But looking at you guys, I don't see what the fuss is about."
"Then you're not looking hard enough," Sora said quietly.
"Oh? Want to prove me wrong?" Tobi's eyes gleamed with challenge. "One-on-one. Right now. If you win, I'll consider joining your sad little team. If I win, you admit you're just a bunch of delinquents pretending to play basketball."
Yasuhara grabbed Sora's arm. "Don't. This guy's trouble."
"He's also skilled," Sora observed, noting Tobi's stance, his grip on the ball, the way he carried himself. "And we need skilled players if we want to compete in Inter-High."
He looked at Tobi. "One condition. This is basketball, not a fight. First to 11, ones and twos. Winner's ball after each make. No intentional contact."
"Agreed. Though I won't need to get physical to beat you." Tobi tossed the ball to Sora. "You start."
Sora caught it, his mind already analyzing his opponent.
"Let's go," Sora said, taking the ball to the top of the key.
Tobi dropped into a defensive stance, and Sora immediately recognized the fundamentals. This kid had been trained properly. His positioning was textbook, his balance perfect.
This won't be easy, Sora thought.
But he smiled anyway.
Good. I need the challenge.
The one-on-one began.