"Alright, ground rules!" Nao announced, her clipboard at the ready. "Two 10-minute halves, each team gets one timeout.
The girls' team members whispered among themselves, clearly relieved.
"Thank god we're not betting anything on this," one muttered.
"Yeah, imagine losing to the delinquent team..."
Madoka shot them a sharp look. "Focus. These boys have been improving rapidly. Don't underestimate them."
On the boys' side, Momoharu gathered the team. "Remember the system. Constant motion, smart spacing. Let's show them what we've learned."
Sora stood at the top of the key, his mind clear and focused. He could feel his enhanced attributes beneath his skin—speed at 113, stamina at 120, his shooting at elite-plus levels.
Let's see how our motion offense works against real competition.
Momoharu and Sayuri Otake, the girls' team center, jumped for the tip-off.
Momoharu's superior vertical was evident immediately. He tipped the ball cleanly to Chiaki.
"Sayuri!" Madoka called out, frustrated. "Don't let him dominate you like that!"
"Sorry!" Sayuri jogged back on defense, looking intimidated. "He jumped so high..."
Chiaki brought the ball up with his characteristic lazy confidence—but today, there was something different. An edge of competitiveness that wasn't usually there.
A real game. A real test. Might as well try.
The girls' team set up in man-to-man defense, with Madoka immediately finding Sora.
"Five-out!" Chiaki called, and immediately the boys spread to the perimeter—Sora on the right wing, Kenji on the left, Yasuhara in one corner, Momoharu at the opposite elbow.
The spacing was perfect, the paint completely empty.
Chiaki surveyed the floor with his elite basketball IQ, saw Kenji posting up against Youko Kokubu.
"Natsume!" Chiaki fired the pass.
Kenji caught it, immediately facing up. The height and strength difference was obvious. He attacked with a quick first step, using his superior speed to blow past Youko's contest. He finished with a smooth layup.
2-0, boys.
"Defense!" Madoka called out, bringing the ball up herself.
She ran a pick-and-roll with Sayuri, but Momoharu hedged perfectly while Chiaki went under the screen, his defensive positioning textbook.
Madoka tried to drive, but Chiaki's length bothered her passing lanes. She settled for a contested mid-range jumper—
CLANG.
Momoharu grabbed the rebound and immediately looked for Sora in transition.
Sora caught the outlet pass at half-court and immediately attacked.
Madoka sprinted back, setting up in perfect defensive position. Her stance was textbook, her positioning designed to cut off Sora's driving angles.
But what happened next shocked everyone in the gym.
Sora didn't use any fakes. No hesitation dribbles. No Himuro crossovers or Miyagi tricks.
He just exploded.
Pure. Raw. Speed.
The Miyagi integration had pushed his speed to 113—beyond normal for high school basketball. When he attacked at full throttle, it was like watching someone hit fast-forward.
Madoka's eyes widened as Sora blew past her—not with technique or craftiness, but with sheer velocity. By the time she reacted, he was already two steps past her, elevating for the layup.
SWISH.
4-0.
"What the—" Madoka spun around, stunned. "How did you get that fast?!"
Sora jogged back, grinning. "Been working on conditioning! Chiaki-senpai, great rebound!"
From the sideline, Nao's pen moved rapidly across her clipboard.
That speed... that's not normal for a first-year
The girls regrouped and tried to score, but Sora's enhanced defensive instincts from Miyagi made him a nightmare on that end too. His lateral quickness at 110 meant he could stay in front of ball handlers, and his steal rating of 109 meant every pass near him was at risk.
When Madoka tried to drive, Sora's quick hands poked the ball away. Kenji grabbed it and pushed in transition.
"SPREAD!" Chiaki called out, and the boys immediately filled their spots—five-out formation again.
Kenji had a mismatch against Youko in space. He drove hard, the lane completely open with no help defense nearby.
Easy dunk.
6-0.
"TIMEOUT!" Madoka called, frustrated.
---
"Listen carefully," Nao said, her voice carrying unexpected authority. "Their spacing is destroying our man-to-man. We need to switch to Box-and-One."
"Box-and-One?" Madoka questioned. "You want me to shadow Kurumatani exclusively?"
"Yes. Four of you form a box around the paint. Madoka, you stick to Kurumatani like glue—never let him breathe. Make someone else beat us."
Nao drew quickly on her clipboard. "The box will collapse on drives. Kurumatani won't be able to run his motion offense if you're face-guarding him constantly."
----
The girls came out in the new formation. Four players packed the paint in a box, with Madoka glued to Sora at the three-point line.
Chiaki recognized it immediately. "Box-and-One. They're taking away Sora."
Sora received the pass and immediately felt the pressure. Madoka was face-guarding him, her hand constantly in his vision.
Alright, let's test this.
Sora immediately called for a screen from Yasuhara. The forward set a solid pick at the three-point line.
Madoka fought over the screen—
But Sora's speed was too much. He came off the screen with such velocity that even with Madoka fighting over it, he had a clean look.
SWISH.
9-0.
"SWITCH SCREENS!" Nao called out. "Don't fight over them, switch!"
Next possession, Sora ran off a screen from Momoharu. This time Madoka switched, and Sayuri picked up Sora.
But now Sora had a mismatch—the slower center trying to guard him on the perimeter.
Sora didn't hesitate. He attacked with pure speed, blowing past Sayuri like she was standing still.
The box collapsed—
Sora kicked to Kenji in the corner.
SWISH.
12-0.
From the sideline, Nao's mind was working overtime.
The Box-and-One isn't working. His speed is too elite. And when they do switch, he either beats the mismatch or finds the open man. His court vision is...
She scribbled notes furiously.
---
"Let's run the system!" Sora called out.
What happened next was basketball poetry.
Chiaki brought the ball up and immediately initiated motion. Sora started on the wing, then cut backdoor—his timing perfect, reading the defense instinctively.
When the box collapsed to stop his cut, he popped back out to the three-point line.
Chiaki swung the ball to Kenji on the opposite wing.
Kenji immediately drove—the box collapsed on him—
He kicked to Momoharu cutting baseline.
Momoharu caught and immediately passed to Sora relocating to the corner.
SWISH.
15-0.
"WHAT IS THIS?!" one of the girls' team members shouted in frustration.
Next possession, the ball never stopped moving. Screen after screen, cut after cut. Sora was constantly in motion—running off pins, curling around backs, popping out for threes.
Every time a defender committed to him, someone else was open. Every time they helped off him, he got a clean look.
The defenders chasing him around screens were getting exhausted, and worse—they were abandoning their own assignments out of fear of his three-point shooting.
When Sora came off a screen at the top of the key, TWO defenders jumped at him.
He calmly passed to Momoharu, who was wide open under the basket.
Easy dunk.
17-0.
Nao stood up from the bench, her eyes wide.
This system... this motion offense... it's not random. It's organized chaos designed specifically around their players' strengths. Who designed this?
The girls finally scored when Madoka hit a desperation three, but it was too late. The boys were in rhythm.
By the 3-minute mark of the first half, Chiaki was fully engaged—making perfect reads, hitting cutters with precision passes, controlling tempo like a maestro.
Kenji was dominating in isolation whenever the defense collapsed on Sora. The spacing gave him one-on-one opportunities, and his ball handling was too advanced for the girls to stop.
And Sora? Sora was putting on a clinic.
Running off screens. Relocating constantly. His enhanced speed making him impossible to stay with through multiple actions. His shooting so deadly that defenders were terrified to leave him.
When he had the ball, defenses panicked. When he didn't have it, he was creating chaos with his movement.
At halftime: 35-8, Boys.
Sora had 20 points on perfect efficiency—8/8 shooting, including 4/4 from three.
Kenji had 10 points, attacking the space Sora created.
Even Yasuhara had scored on a wide-open corner three.
The girls' team looked shell-shocked.
Halftime
Both teams gathered at center court.
Nao approached Sora and Chiaki, her eyes still wide with amazement.
"That offense... that motion system... who designed it?"
Sora and Chiaki exchanged glances.
"We both did," Sora said. "I had the concept—constant motion, five-out spacing, exploiting mismatches. Chiaki-senpai helped refine the reads and decision-making."
"It's beautiful," Nao said, genuine admiration in her voice. "The spacing creates driving lanes. The constant screening action exhausts defenders. And with Kurumatani-kun's shooting gravity, defenses have to make impossible choices."
"But?" Sora sensed the caveat.
Nao's expression became serious. "But this system requires Kurumatani-kun to be on the floor. Second half, you're sitting out."
"What?!" Sora protested.
"You've proven you're exceptional—we all saw it. Your speed is elite. Your shooting is elite. Your court vision and off-ball movement are elite." Nao's expression was gentle but firm. "But we need to see what happens when you rest. Because in Inter-High, you'll play multiple games. You'll need to sit for portions of games."
Sora looked at his teammates. Chiaki nodded. Momoharu shrugged. Kenji looked frustrated but didn't argue.
"Fine," Sora agreed reluctantly.
----
The boys' starting five for the second half: Chiaki, Kenji, Momoharu, Yasuhara, and Nabe.
Without Sora's gravity, the girls immediately abandoned Box-and-One and went to straight man-to-man.
The first possession showed the difference. Chiaki tried to initiate motion, but without Sora running off screens, the girls could stay home on their assignments.
Kenji posted up Youko on the left wing.
"Give me the ball," he said confidently.
Chiaki obliged.
Kenji immediately went to work. He executed a tap-step fake—his foot tapping the ground while his shoulders suddenly rose as if gathering for a shot.
Youko bit hard, jumping to contest—
Kenji calmly drove past her to the baseline. Sayuri rotated over to help.
Kenji stopped on a dime, executed a beautiful back-to-basket fadeaway jumper over the contest.
SWISH.
37-8.
"Nice shot, Natsume!" Chiaki called out.
Next possession, Kenji caught the ball at the top of the key against Youko. This time he attacked with a devastating combo move:
Double behind-the-back crossover—the ball whipping from hand to hand twice in rapid succession—
Into a quick crossover back to his right hand—
Youko was completely lost, her defensive balance destroyed by the series of moves.
Kenji rose up for a mid-range jumper.
SWISH.
39-10.
"Okay," Madoka said, impressed despite herself. "Natsume is really good."
The girls tried to score, but Kenji was locked in defensively too. His length bothered passing lanes, and when Madoka drove, he rotated over for a clean block.
Kenji grabbed the ball and went coast-to-coast. At the basket, he gathered with two hands—
Sayuri stepped up to contest—
Kenji executed a textbook up-and-under layup, faking the shot to get Sayuri in the air, then laying it in off the glass on the other side when she was descending.
41-10.
From the sideline, Nao was taking rapid notes.
Natsume-kun's skill set is phenomenal. His ball handling, his footwork, his shot-making ability—this is prefecture-level talent. Maybe even higher.
But she also noticed something else.
"DOUBLE-TEAM NATSUME!" Nao called out.
----
The next time Kenji caught the ball, two defenders immediately swarmed him—Youko and Madoka together.
Kenji's eyes scanned the court. Yasuhara was wide open in the corner.
But Kenji's scorer's mentality kicked in. I can beat a double-team. I've done it before.
He executed a spin move, trying to split the defenders—
Madoka's hand poked the ball away. Turnover.
"NATSUME!" Chiaki shouted. "YASUHARA WAS OPEN!"
"I had it—"
"You had TWO DEFENDERS!"
The girls pushed in transition and scored. 41-12.
Next possession, Kenji tried again. This time he caught the ball and immediately three defenders collapsed on him—Madoka, Youko, and Sayuri.
Nabe was completely alone under the basket, waving frantically.
Kenji saw him, hesitated—
Then tried to force a step-back three over the triple-team.
CLANG.
The shot was contested by three hands. No chance.
"PASS THE BALL!" Momoharu was furious.
The pattern continued. Kenji would make spectacular individual plays—his footwork and ball handling were genuinely elite. He hit multiple fadeaways, executed beautiful spin moves, scored with up-and-unders and tap-step fakes.
But every time the girls sent multiple defenders, his reluctance to pass cost them.
By the 3-minute mark: 45-25.
Kenji had scored 14 points in the second half on his own. His shot-making was incredible.
But he'd also had 4 turnovers and 3 missed shots against heavy contests when teammates were open.
The girls, emboldened, started pressing harder. Madoka found her rhythm, scoring on drives and post-ups.
With 1 minute left: 47-35.
"Timeout!" Momoharu called.
----
"Kenji," Chiaki said, his usual lazy demeanor completely gone, "you're an incredible scorer. Maybe the best pure scorer I've ever seen. But you can't forcefully beat triple-teams."
"I was trying—"
"You were being stubborn," Momoharu interrupted. "When three defenders collapse on you, that means two of our guys are open. PASS THE BALL."
Kenji's jaw clenched. He knew they were right, but his pride stung.
When play resumed, the girls kept sending multiple defenders at Kenji. This time, reluctantly, he passed out of the double-teams.
But Yasuhara and Nabe couldn't capitalize. Open shots clanged off the rim. Easy layups were missed.
The girls closed the gap further.
Final Score: Boys 49, Girls 44.
A five-point victory. Barely.
----
Both teams gathered at center court. The boys were celebrating their win, high-fiving each other.
"Hold on," Nao said, her voice cutting through the celebration.
Everyone turned to look at her.
"You won. Congratulations. But let's be clear about what just happened." She pulled out her notes. "First half with Kurumatani-kun: You scored 35 points and held them to 8. You were dominant."
She flipped to the second page.
"Second half without Kurumatani-kun: You scored 14 points and gave up 36. You barely won against a girls' team."
The celebration died.
"Natsume-kun," Nao addressed Kenji directly, "you scored 14 points in the second half. Your individual skill is exceptional—your ball handling, footwork, shot-making are all elite-level. But you also forced 7 possessions that could have been easy baskets if you'd passed out of double and triple-teams."
Kenji's fists clenched, but he didn't argue.
"And the rest of you," Nao looked at Yasuhara, Nabe, and Chucky, "when you did get open looks, you couldn't convert. That's a skill gap that needs to close."
She took a breath.
"You have ambitions of reaching Inter-High. Of competing with the best teams in Kanagawa. But barely beating a girls' team when your best player sits isn't something to celebrate. It's a wake-up call."
The gym was silent.
"The first half showed me you have a brilliant system and two exceptional players. The second half showed me you're completely dependent on one of them, and the other's brilliance is limited by his unwillingness to trust teammates when defenses collapse."
Madoka stepped forward. "Nao's right. We're a good team—we made Inter-High preliminaries last year. But we're not elite. If you barely beat us without Kurumatani, how will you compete against teams with multiple prefecture-level players?"
Sora stood up from the bench where he'd been watching.
"She's right," he said quietly. "All of it. We're not ready yet."
He looked at Kenji. "You're incredibly talented. But we need you to be a complete player, not just a scorer. That means making the right play, even when it's the pass."
Then he looked at Yasuhara, Nabe, and Chucky. "And we need you to get better. Faster. Way faster. Open shots have to go in. Defensive rotations have to be quicker."
Finally, he looked at Nao. "What do we need to do?"
Nao smiled slightly. "First, you need at least one more skilled player. Someone who can score when both you and Natsume-kun are being keyed on. Second, intense skill development for the beginners. Third—and this is crucial—Natsume-kun needs to learn to play within a system."
She walked over to Kenji.
"You're talented enough to play professionally someday. But even pros have to pass out of triple-teams. Your skill becomes a weakness when your ego prevents you from making the smart play."
Kenji was quiet for a long moment. Then, surprising everyone, he bowed slightly.
"You're right. I'll work on it."
From the shadows, Alisa had watched everything.
In Russian, she whispered: "Даже победа открыла их слабости... Но они слушают. Они учатся. Это... это то, что делает команду сильной." (Even victory exposed their weaknesses... But they're listening. They're learning. That's... that's what makes a team strong.)
She pulled out the basketball club's budget request and wrote: "APPROVED - Full Budget Allocation. Additional Recommendation: Priority gym scheduling, equipment budget increase. This team shows exceptional potential but critical depth issues. They need resources and time to develop before Inter-High. - A. Kujou, Student Council"
As she stood to leave, Sora caught her eye and waved.
She waved back, her heart doing that stupid thing again.
In Russian, as she walked home: "Он даже в поражении находит способ расти... Как можно не восхищаться этим?" (He finds ways to grow even in victory... How can I not admire that?)
The race against time had truly begun.