"BREAK!"
Sora split the double-team effortlessly, his enhanced speed from the Miyagi integration making the defensive pressure look amateur. He crossed half-court in a blur, Kenji trailing on the wing.
"Pass!" Kenji called out, wide open near the three-point line.
But Sora was already rising up from well beyond the arc, his shooting form perfect—
SWISH.
"Damn it, Kurumatani!" Kenji slammed the ball in frustration. "You just broke a two-man practice defense! I was closer to the basket! You should have passed!"
Sora jogged back, completely unbothered. "Why would I pass when I never miss?"
Kenji stared at him, then shook his head with a mixture of admiration and annoyance. "Your shooting range gives me goosebumps, man. It's not natural."
"It's practice," Sora said simply. "Thousands of shots every day."
Kenji turned to Momoharu, who was rebounding. "Captain, we've been practicing the same pattern every day for two weeks now. We need to switch up our routine. This isn't going to prepare us for real competition."
Momoharu nodded, understanding the concern. He looked at Satsuki, who was observing from the sideline with his clipboard.
"Satsuki-sensei, is there anything new we can add to our practice routine?"
The advisor considered for a moment, then blew his whistle. "Everyone! Start running! Full court sprints! Go!"
As the team began running, Sora jogged alongside Momoharu. "Captain, we need someone experienced. A real coach who can guide our training, create actual plays, develop strategies. Satsuki-sensei is great for discipline, but he's not a basketball coach."
"I know," Momoharu admitted. "But where are we going to find a coach willing to work with a team of former delinquents?"
Before Sora could answer, Satsuki called them over. He was holding a tournament bracket.
"The Kanto Tournament is currently ongoing," Satsuki explained, showing them the schedule. "Second round matches start tomorrow."
"We can't enter, can we?" Momoharu asked, studying the bracket. "The registration deadline has passed."
"No, you can't," Satsuki confirmed. "But nothing stops you from watching."
Sora's eyes lit up. "That's perfect! We can scout teams, see different play styles, learn tactics—"
"Exactly," Satsuki agreed. "Consider it a field trip. Study how real teams operate."
----
Sora stood alone on the platform, checking his watch with increasing irritation. The tournament venue was in Yokohama, and matches had started at 8:00 AM.
Finally, at 10:00, he saw his teammates approaching—Momoharu, Chiaki, Kenji, Yasuhara, Nabe, and Chucky, all looking completely relaxed.
"YOU'RE TWO HOURS LATE!" Sora exploded. "We've already missed multiple matches!"
"Relax, shorty," Chiaki said, yawning. "There are matches all day."
"That's not the point! We could have been studying teams this whole time!"
Momoharu pulled out the tournament schedule. "Look, Shinmaruko High is playing right now. Second round, against Eiren High. We can still catch that one."
"Eiren?" Kenji's eyebrows raised. "They were one of the best eight teams in last year's Kanto Tournament. Second seed this year."
"Then let's move!" Sora started running toward the correct platform. "We're not missing this!"
Yokohama Arena - Second Round Match
They arrived during a timeout. The scoreboard showed:
Eiren High 45 - Shinmaruko High 36.
"Nine points down," Yasuhara observed. "Shinmaruko's getting crushed."
"Wait, that's not their coach from our game," Momoharu noted, seeing an older man giving instructions to the Shinmaruko players.
"He probably wasn't at our practice match because he was preparing for this tournament," Chiaki reasoned.
Sora watched the Shinmaruko huddle intently. He could see the determination in their eyes—Chiba, Tokiwa, Sawa, all of them refusing to accept defeat.
"The match will be overturned," Kenji said confidently.
"What makes you say that?" Nabe asked.
"Look at their eyes. They're not done fighting."
The timeout ended. Shinmaruko returned to the court with renewed intensity.
"FULL-COURT PRESS!" the Shinmaruko coach shouted.
Immediately, all five Shinmaruko players pressured the ball, denying Eiren any easy advancement. The aggressive defense forced a turnover—
Tokiwa stole the ball, immediately pushing in transition.
"CHIBA!" he shouted, throwing a lob toward the basket.
Chiba soared, catching the ball mid-air and throwing down a thunderous dunk.
BOOM!
The entire arena erupted.
"WHOA!" someone in the crowd shouted. "I've never seen a dunk like that at a high school tournament before!"
"That's insane!" another spectator added. "That kid can fly!"
Sora watched with wide eyes as Shinmaruko's defense and transition game completely dismantled Eiren's structured offense.
The final buzzer sounded: Shinmaruko High 78 - Eiren High 74.
Tokiwa spotted Sora and the Kuzuryu team as they were leaving. He jogged over, his jersey soaked with sweat.
"Kurumatani! You guys came to watch?"
"Yeah," Sora said. "That was an incredible comeback."
"Thanks." Tokiwa's expression became serious. "But listen—our region, Kanagawa, is the most competitive battleground in all of Japan. If your teammates don't start taking basketball seriously, you'll be left behind. One talented player isn't enough here."
After Tokiwa left, Momoharu turned to Chiaki. "Even within Kanagawa, our district—Kawasaki—is especially competitive."
Sora clenched his fists. Our current training regimen isn't enough. We need to practice seriously.
----
Kawasaki Train Station - Evening
"Um, guys?" Yasuhara said nervously. "I think we took the wrong train."
Everyone looked around. They were definitely not in Kawasaki.
"Where are we?" Chucky asked.
A station sign provided the answer: Enoshima Station.
"ENOSHIMA?!" Momoharu grabbed his head. "That's in the complete opposite direction!"
"How much money do we have for another ticket?" Sora asked.
Everyone checked their pockets. The collective total was embarrassingly small.
"Not enough," Nabe confirmed.
Momoharu's expression hardened with determination. "Then we jog back to Kawasaki."
"WHAT?!" the group chorused.
"You heard me. We jog. All of us. Consider it conditioning training."
"That's like 40 kilometers!" Yasuhara protested.
"Then we'd better start now before it gets dark," Momoharu said, already stretching.
As they began their long jog home, Sora's mind was racing with ideas.
What Shinmaruko showed today... that's team basketball. That's what we need to learn. But more than that...
He thought about their roster—Chiaki's elite basketball IQ, Kenji's isolation scoring, his own shooting, Momoharu's athleticism.
We need a system. Not just plays, but a philosophy. A way to play that maximizes everyone's strengths.
-----
Monday Morning - Kuzuryu High, Classroom
Sora arrived at class still sore from the 40-kilometer jog back from Enoshima. His legs protested every step, but he refused to show weakness.
The classroom was buzzing with unusual energy. Students were clustered in groups, whispering excitedly.
"Did you hear? We're getting a transfer student!"
"I heard she's half-Russian!"
"Apparently she scored the highest on the entrance exam!"
Sora slid into his usual seat by the window, already mentally planning the afternoon's practice. They needed to completely revamp their offensive system—
The classroom door opened, and the homeroom teacher entered with someone beside him.
Every conversation died instantly.
Standing next to the teacher was the most beautiful girl Sora had ever seen—and that was saying something, considering Madoka was already stunning.
The girl had long, silky silver hair that cascaded past her shoulders like a waterfall of moonlight, striking blue eyes like sapphires that seemed to pierce right through people, and delicate features that somehow combined European elegance with Japanese refinement.
She wasn't too tall for a Japanese girl—probably around 155cm—with perfect posture and an aura of untouchable perfection. Even in the standard Kuzuryu High uniform, she looked like she belonged in a much more prestigious academy.
"Class," the teacher said, "this is Alisa Mikhailovna Kujou. She's transferred here from Tokyo. Please make her feel welcome."
Alisa bowed with perfect form, her expression cool and professional. "I look forward to studying with you all."
Her voice was like crystal—clear, precise, and somehow carrying an undertone that suggested she was accustomed to excellence.
The teacher consulted his seating chart. "Kujou-san, you'll be sitting next to Kurumatani. Kurumatani, raise your hand."
Sora raised his hand, genuinely curious about the transfer student.
Alisa's blue eyes found him, and her expression flickered with something—surprise? Disappointment? It was gone too quickly to tell.
She walked to her seat with measured steps, her bearing so regal that several students couldn't help but stare.
As she sat down and began arranging her textbooks with meticulous precision, Sora noticed her muttering something under her breath in a completely foreign language.
"Конечно, меня посадили рядом с таким маленьким мальчиком..." (Of course they seat me next to such a small boy...)
Sora blinked, leaning slightly toward her. "Sorry, did you say something?"
Alisa's eyes widened fractionally before her composure reasserted itself. "Oh, nothing. Just... thinking out loud. In Russian."
"Russian? That's so cool!" Sora's face lit up with genuine interest. "I've never met anyone who speaks Russian before! What were you saying?"
"I was just... admiring the view from the window," she lied smoothly, gesturing to the window beside Sora's seat.
"Oh yeah, it's a great spot! You can see the basketball court from here!" Sora pointed enthusiastically. "During breaks, I sometimes watch the girls' team practice. They're really good!"
Alisa stared at him. He's... completely oblivious. And somehow... genuine?
Throughout the morning lessons, Alisa observed her new deskmate. He sometimes answered questions correctly when called on—showing he wasn't stupid—but his notebook was covered with basketball notes rather than proper notes. He seemed to genuinely focus on the lessons, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.
She found herself increasingly curious about this small, energetic boy who seemed to exist in his own world.
When the teacher called for homework assignments, Sora's face fell.
"I... uh... forgot," he admitted sheepishly.
The teacher sighed. "Kurumatani, this is the third time this month. See me after class."
"Yes, sensei. I'm really sorry!"
As the teacher moved on, Alisa muttered in Russian: "Типичный спортсмен. Вероятно, думает, что мяч важнее книг..." (Typical athlete. Probably thinks a ball is more important than books...)
Sora turned to her with innocent curiosity. "You speak Russian when you're thinking, don't you? That's really interesting! My mom used to say that people's first thoughts are in their first language. Is Russian your first language?"
Alisa was caught completely off-guard by his genuine interest. "I... yes. My father is Russian. We spoke it at home when I was young."
"That's amazing! You must be really smart to speak two languages fluently!" Sora's admiration was completely sincere.
Why is he so... earnest about everything? Alisa thought, feeling her carefully constructed walls wobble slightly.
"It's not that impressive," she said coolly. "Many people are bilingual."
"Still cool though!" Sora grinned, then turned his attention back to the board.
Alisa found herself staring at his profile. There was something disarmingly honest about him—no hidden agendas, no attempts to impress her, just... genuine friendliness.
It was refreshing. And terrifying.
-----
Sora pulled out his phone and immediately began sketching plays, muttering to himself about spacing and cutting angles.
"You really do think about basketball constantly," Alisa observed, her tone disapproving.
"Hmm?" Sora looked up, as if surprised she was still there. "Oh, yeah! We have Inter-High Preliminaries in three weeks. I'm trying to design a new offensive system for the team."
"Shouldn't you be focusing on your studies instead? Education determines your future, not... bouncing a ball."
Sora's expression became serious—the first time she'd seen him without that bright, innocent smile.
"Basketball is my future," he said simply. "It's how I'm going to reach my mom."
"Your mother?"
"She's in the hospital. Used to play for Japan's National Team. I promised her I'd reach Inter-High, and then Nationals, and then..." His eyes shone with absolute conviction. "I'll become the best player in Japan. Then she'll see that everything she taught me, all the sacrifices she made—it all meant something."
Alisa felt something twist in her chest. The pure, unwavering determination in his voice—when was the last time she'd heard someone speak with such passion?
In Russian, she muttered without thinking: "Он или самый глупый человек, которого я когда-либо встречала, или самый вдохновляющий..." (He's either the stupidest person I've ever met, or the most inspiring...)
"Russian again!" Sora said brightly. "You know, you do that a lot. Is it like... thinking out loud but in Russian? That's really cool! I wish I could speak another language!"
Alisa blinked. "You... didn't understand what I said?"
"Nope! Not a word!" Sora rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I'm terrible at languages. Can barely handle Japanese sometimes! Madoka-senpai always corrects my grammar."
He doesn't understand. At all. A dangerous realization struck Alisa. Which means I can say whatever I want in Russian and he'll never know...
An impish idea formed—one completely unlike her usual serious self.
"I was saying," she lied smoothly, "that your dedication is very impressive and you seem like a very intelligent person."
Sora's face lit up like the sun. "Really?! You said that?! Wow, thank you, Kujou-san!" He rubbed his head, grinning so brightly it was almost blinding. "That's really nice! I mean, I know I'm not as smart as you obviously are, but I try my best!"
Oh no, Alisa thought as her heart did something strange. He's... he's genuinely happy. Just from a simple compliment. What kind of person...?
"Though," Sora continued, his innocence on full display, "I'm surprised you think I'm intelligent when I just forgot my homework. You're being really kind, Kujou-san!"
Stop being so earnest! Alisa thought desperately. How am I supposed to maintain my walls when you're this... this... genuine?!
"I should go," she said abruptly, standing up. "Student council meeting."
"Oh! You're on student council already? That's amazing! You just transferred!" Sora looked at her with pure admiration. "You must be really incredible!"
Alisa fled before her composure could crack further.
In the hallway, she leaned against the wall, her heart racing.
In Russian, she whispered: "Что со мной не так? Почему один яркий мальчик с дурацкой улыбкой заставляет меня чувствовать себя так странно?" (What's wrong with me? Why is one bright boy with a stupid smile making me feel so strange?)
----
When Alisa returned, Sora was still there, now talking animatedly with a tall, scruffy-looking student.
"—and then we jogged all the way back from Enoshima! Forty kilometers! My legs were dead!" Sora was saying.
"That's brutal, man," the other student—Yasuhara, Alisa recognized—replied.
"But worth it! We need the conditioning!"
As Yasuhara left, Sora noticed Alisa and waved. "Welcome back, Kujou-san! How was the meeting?"
"Fine," she said curtly, sitting down.
"That's good!" Sora's genuine pleasure at her return was evident. "Oh, and thanks again for what you said earlier. In Russian. About me being impressive and intelligent. That really made my day!"
He smiled at her with such innocent gratitude that Alisa felt a pang of guilt.
I literally lied to him. I actually called him possibly the stupidest person I'd ever met. And he's thanking me so sincerely...
"You're... welcome," she managed.
The afternoon classes began, and Alisa found herself sneaking glances at Sora. He was taking notes now—surprisingly detailed ones about the lesson—but every few minutes his pen would drift to the margin and start sketching basketball plays.
When he caught her looking, he smiled and whispered, "Sorry, bad habit. I can't help it!"
Why are you apologizing to me? Alisa thought. I'm the one who lied to you. I'm the one who judged you without knowing you.
In Russian, so softly even she barely heard it: "Ты делаешь меня лучше просто находясь рядом... и это пугает меня." (You make me want to be better just by being near you... and that terrifies me.)
"Russian again!" Sora whispered back cheerfully. "Someday you'll have to teach me some phrases! It sounds so pretty when you speak it!"
Alisa felt her cheeks heat up. "Focus on the lesson, Kurumatani."
"Right! Sorry!"
But he was smiling, and somehow, impossibly, she found herself smiling too.
What are you doing to me, Kurumatani Sora?
----
Alisa had joined the student council immediately upon transfer—her entrance exam scores were the highest in Kuzuryu High's history. Now she was reviewing club budget requests.
She flipped through them methodically until she found: Basketball Club.
The request was modest—money for new practice balls, repair of outdoor court lines, tournament registration fees.
At the bottom, there was a note in surprisingly neat handwriting: "We know we're a new team with a bad reputation. But we're serious about reaching Inter-High. Please consider our request. - Hanazono Momoharu, Captain."
Alisa's pen hovered over the approval box.
They really are serious. Kurumatani wasn't exaggerating.
She checked "Approved - Pending Review" and added a note: "Will observe practice before final approval."
Just being thorough, she told herself. Nothing to do with wanting to see what makes him so passionate.
Nothing at all.
She found herself walking toward the gymnasium, her student council folder serving as a flimsy excuse.
Through the windows, she could see them—Sora and his teammates, working through drills with intense focus.
"Alright everyone, listen up!" Sora called out. "We need to completely restructure how we play!"
Alisa moved closer to hear.
"We have players with different elite skills," Sora explained, showing a diagram. "We need a system that uses everyone's strengths simultaneously—constant motion, smart spacing, reading defenses together."
He pointed to a tall player with lazy eyes. "Chiaki-senpai, you're our primary ball handler and floor general. High basketball IQ, sees plays before they happen. You control tempo and find the open man."
"Natsume," he pointed to a confident-looking freshman, "you're our isolation scorer. When we need a bucket in crunch time, you create your own shot."
"Captain," he addressed a blonde giant, "you're our defensive anchor and vertical threat. Protect the rim, dominate boards, finish lobs."
"And me?" Sora grinned. "I'm the constant motion shooter. I run off screens, relocate continuously, and shoot from anywhere."
He's not just passionate, Alisa realized, watching him direct players much larger than himself. He's a leader. A tactician. He sees the game with perfect clarity.
"Let's start simple!" Sora instructed. "Five-out spacing, constant cutting, screen for each other!"
They ran the drill. It was messy, chaotic, players running into each other.
But Sora never got frustrated. "Again! Chiaki-senpai, read the defense! Natsume, your cut should be sharper!"
They ran it again. Better this time.
"YES! That's it! That's the concept!"
Alisa found herself mesmerized.
In Russian, she whispered: "Он прекрасен когда он в своей стихии... Полностью живой, полностью свободный..." (He's cute when he's in his element... Completely alive, completely free...)
"Spying on our practice, Kujou-san?"
Alisa jumped. Madoka had appeared beside her, smiling knowingly.
"I... I'm evaluating their budget request!" Alisa said quickly.
"Of course you are." Madoka's smile widened. "And?"
"And... they're more organized than I expected."
"Sora has that effect," Madoka said gently. "Makes impossible things feel possible."
Inside the gym, Sora was demonstrating a cutting pattern, his small form weaving between much larger players with effortless grace.
"Why does he care so much, it goes beyond just a promise?" Alisa asked quietly.
"That's his story to tell," Madoka replied. "But I will say—he has someone waiting for him. Someone important. And he'll do whatever it takes to reach them."
After Madoka left, Alisa stayed, watching until practice ended.
As the team was leaving, Sora spotted her through the window and waved enthusiastically, that bright smile splitting his face.
Alisa's carefully maintained composure cracked.
And all she could do was shyly wave back.