Sora jogged through the morning streets, his mind focused on one goal: find Nabe and Chucky.
They couldn't have gone far. They probably went home, or maybe to a friend's place, or—
He stopped abruptly.
Wait. I don't know where either of them live.
He patted his pockets, looking for his phone to call someone from the team for their addresses.
No phone. He'd left it charging at the training camp.
Okay, find a payphone. Call the school. Ask for their addresses.
He spotted a public phone booth and rushed over, lifting the receiver—
Then realized he had no money.
"Are you kidding me?!" Sora slumped against the phone booth. "I'm the worst rescue mission ever."
He sighed, preparing to jog back to school to get money and addresses, when he heard familiar voices.
"...so weak and helpless..."
Sora's head snapped up. About twenty meters away, walking with their heads down, were Nabe and Chucky.
"Hey!" Sora called out, running toward them. "NABE! CHUCKY!"
Both stopped, turning to see him. Their expressions were dejected, defeated—completely unlike their usual energetic selves.
"Kurumatani," Chucky said flatly. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you two! When are you coming back to the training camp?"
Nabe and Chucky exchanged glances.
"We're not," Nabe said quietly. "We're quitting the team."
"What?! You can't just—"
"Kenji was right," Chucky interrupted. "We're dragging everyone down. We're not good enough. We'll never be good enough."
"That's not true!" Sora protested. "Natsume was just frustrated yesterday. He didn't mean—"
"How long have you been playing basketball, Kurumatani?" Nabe asked suddenly.
Sora blinked at the change of topic. "Since I was three years old. My mom taught me."
"Three years old," Nabe repeated, his voice hollow. "We started less than two months ago."
"We just got a real lesson," Chucky added, "about how not to underestimate basketball. We lost to middle school kids, Kurumatani. Kids younger than us completely destroyed us. We couldn't even make it competitive."
"So what?" Sora demanded. "You think I won every game when I started? You think I never lost to people better than me?"
"It's different," Nabe said. "You started as a child. You had years to develop. At our current level, no matter how hard we train, we'll never catch up to competitive high school basketball. We'll just hold the team back from reaching Inter-High."
"That's not—"
"Let it go, Kurumatani," Chucky said, his voice tired. "We appreciate everything, but some of us just aren't meant for this."
Before Sora could respond, both of them walked away, disappearing into the crowd.
Sora stood there, fists clenched, frustration and determination warring inside him.
I can't give up on them. I won't.
-----
Next Day - Convenience Store
Nabe and Chucky wandered the aisles of a convenience store, trying to find something to occupy their time.
"This is boring," Chucky muttered, flipping through a manga magazine. "We've already read all the good stuff."
"Want to get ramen?" Nabe suggested halfheartedly.
"Sure. Why not."
-----
They sat at a small table, slurping noodles in silence.
"You know what we should have done?" Chucky said suddenly. "Against those middle school kids. We should have played lower, matched their height advantage."
"Right?" Nabe agreed, getting animated. "And we should have used better footwork on defense. Remember that cross-step thing Nao taught us? That would have—"
He stopped abruptly.
Both of them stared at each other.
"Why are we talking about basketball again?" Chucky asked.
"I don't know," Nabe admitted. "It just... came up."
They went back to eating in silence, but the conversation had planted a seed.
----
Nabe lay on the grass, staring at the sky. "I'm bored."
"We established that," Chucky said from beside him.
"No, I mean... we still have eight days of Golden Week left. We've already done everything. Arcade, convenience store, ramen, walking around. What else is there?"
"We could go back to the arcade?"
"We were just there yesterday."
More silence.
"Basketball is interesting," Nabe said quietly.
"Don't," Chucky warned. "Don't start thinking about it."
"I can't help it! Everything else feels boring now!"
"That's because we got used to the training camp intensity. It'll pass. Let's just—"
"Isn't that him?"
Both sat up, following Nabe's pointing finger.
Walking across the park, hand-in-hand with a pretty girl, was the middle school kid who'd beaten them.
"He has a GIRLFRIEND?!" Chucky's voice came out strangled. "He's in MIDDLE SCHOOL and he has a girlfriend?!"
"That's so unfair," Nabe groaned.
They crept closer, shamelessly eavesdropping.
"—so when I get to high school," the boy was saying, "I'm going to work hard and make it to Inter-High. That's my goal."
"That's so cool!" his girlfriend said, stars in her eyes. "People who play sports are so cool!"
Nabe and Chucky looked at each other, a shared realization dawning.
"If we played basketball seriously..." Chucky started.
"We could get girlfriends," Nabe finished.
"And make it to Inter-High!"
"And be cool!"
Their depression evaporated instantly, replaced by renewed determination.
"Nabe," Chucky said seriously, "my new goal is to make it to Inter-High Tournament."
"Mine too," Nabe agreed. "Just like that middle school kid said. We're going to work hard and reach Inter-High!"
"But first," Chucky's expression turned competitive, "we need to beat those middle school kids. We can't let them think we're weak forever."
"Rematch?"
"Rematch."
-----
Outdoor Basketball Court
The middle school kids were practicing when Nabe and Chucky appeared.
"We want a rematch!" Chucky announced.
The tall kid from before looked them over. "You sure? You got destroyed last time."
"We've been practicing," Nabe said, which was technically true if you counted talking about basketball strategy over ramen.
"Alright. Same rules as before. First to 21."
The game began, and initially, it looked like a repeat of their previous loss. The middle schoolers' experience showed immediately—better ball handling, smarter positioning, years of instinctive play.
10-2, middle school leading.
"This isn't working," Nabe panted. "They're too fast."
"Our height is the problem," Chucky realized. "We're defending too high. They're just going under us!"
Remembering Nao's training, Chucky lowered his defensive stance, bending his knees more, getting down to match the middle schooler's height.
The next drive, he stayed in front of his man.
"That's it!" Nabe followed suit, dropping his stance.
The middle schoolers noticed the adjustment. "They're learning," the tall kid said, impressed despite himself.
----
Meanwhile - Kuzuryu High Training Camp
Madoka burst into the gymnasium where the remaining team members were practicing.
"Nao! I just got a call from a friend! She saw Nabe and Chucky playing basketball at the outdoor court near Kawasaki Park!"
Nao's head snapped up. "They're playing basketball?"
"Against those same middle school kids from before! It's a rematch!"
"Everyone!" Nao called out. "We're going to the park! Now!"
-----
The score was closer now: 18-12, middle school still leading, but Nabe and Chucky were fighting hard.
Chucky used the cross-step footwork Nao had drilled into them, his feet moving in the pattern they'd practiced hundreds of times without even realizing they'd internalized it.
He stayed in front of his man, forcing a difficult shot.
Miss.
Nabe grabbed the rebound.
"Nice defense!" he called out, passing back to Chucky.
The tall middle schooler came to defend Chucky on offense. "The game's outcome won't change," he said confidently. "We're going to win again."
"Don't get ahead of yourself!" Chucky shot back, his competitive fire ignited. "The match is still ongoing, and we haven't given up!"
He drove, but the middle schooler stayed with him. Too much experience, too much skill.
Turnover.
From the sideline, the Kuzuryu High team arrived just in time to see the play.
"They can't win," Kenji said, his analytical mind assessing the situation. "The middle school kids have too much experience. The skill gap is too large."
"But look," Nao said, pointing. "Their defensive stance. Their footwork. They're using what I taught them. They've improved!"
On the court, Nabe and Chucky were frustrated. Every time they thought they had an answer, the middle schoolers adapted.
"Our height!" Nabe realized suddenly. "We keep forgetting—we're taller! We need to use that!"
The next possession, Chucky lowered his stance even more, matching the middle schooler's center of gravity. When his man tried to drive, Chucky's longer limbs and better positioning forced a bad pass.
Nabe read it perfectly—all those hours of watching Sora and Kenji, all that time spent thinking about basketball—and his hand shot out.
Steal!
"YEAH!" Chucky pumped his fist.
Nabe had the ball, but he was double-teamed immediately. He looked for Chucky, but he was covered too.
Then a blur of motion—
Sora had jumped onto the court, calling for the ball.
Nabe passed without thinking.
Sora caught it, rose up, and drained a three-pointer.
SWISH.
18-15.
The middle school kids stared. "Hey! Who said you could join?!"
"The game looked interesting!" Sora said, grinning. "And fun! I couldn't help myself!"
He turned to Nabe and Chucky, his smile bright and genuine.
"So? Isn't basketball interesting?"
Both of them stared at him. Then, slowly, they started smiling too.
"Yeah," Nabe said, energy returning to his voice. "Basketball is really interesting!"
"And our goal," Chucky added, standing straighter, "is to reach Inter-High Tournament!"
"Then let's win this game first!" Sora suggested. "Show them what Kuzuryu High can do!"
With Sora's addition, the dynamic shifted completely. His elite-level shooting forced the middle schoolers to respect the perimeter. His court vision—enhanced by the Eagle Eye—meant perfect passes to Nabe and Chucky when they were open.
"Chucky, cut baseline!" Sora called.
Chucky moved, and Sora hit him with a perfect pass. Easy layup.
18-17.
"Nabe, screen right!"
Nabe set the screen, and when the defense switched, Sora found him rolling to the basket. Another easy two points.
19-18, Kuzuryu High leading.
The middle school kids tried to adjust, but Sora was too skilled, and now Nabe and Chucky were playing with confidence instead of fear.
Final score: 21-19, Kuzuryu High.
After the game, the tall middle schooler approached them, sweating but smiling.
"You guys got better," he admitted. "Especially your defense. And you—" he pointed at Sora, "—you're really good. Like, scary good."
"Thanks!" Sora said cheerfully. "You're really good too! You made us work for it!"
As the middle schoolers left, Kenji approached Nabe and Chucky.
They tensed, expecting criticism.
Instead, Kenji said: "Your defensive improvement is noticeable. The cross-step footwork, the lower stance, reading passing lanes—you've internalized Nao's training better than I expected."
He paused, then added grudgingly: "I was wrong to say you were dragging us down. You're improving. Keep working hard."
It wasn't quite an apology, but from Kenji, it was close.
"Does this mean..." Nabe started.
"You're coming back to the training camp?" Chucky finished.
"If you want us," Nabe added quickly.
Sora threw his arms around both of them. "Of course we want you! You're part of the team! Now let's get back and finish Golden Week training!"
As they walked back to school together, Nao fell into step beside Sora.
"How did you find them?" she asked quietly.
"Luck," Sora admitted. "Or maybe... they were always going to come back to basketball. Some things you just can't quit, even when you try."
Nao smiled. "Spoken like someone who truly loves the game."
Ahead of them, Nabe and Chucky were animatedly discussing their match, their earlier depression completely forgotten.
And behind them, Kenji walked in thoughtful silence, processing Chiaki's words about empathy and what it meant to be a real teammate.
The team was whole again.
And they still had five days of training camp left.
----
That Evening
As the team settled in for dinner, Chiaki sidled up to Sora with a knowing grin.
"So, little Sora," he said, his tone dripping with mischief. "I heard you didn't come back to the training camp last night. Storm was pretty bad, huh?"
Sora's face immediately turned red. "I stayed at my grandmother's house! The storm was too dangerous to travel in!"
"Mmm-hmm. Just you and grandma?"
"And Kujou-san! My tutor! Who was there for tutoring! Which is why she was there! For academic purposes!"
"In a storm. That trapped you both. Overnight. At your house."
"YES! Exactly! Nothing happened!"
Chiaki's grin widened. "I didn't say anything happened. Why are you so defensive?"
"I'm not defensive!"
"You're very defensive."
Kenji looked up from his food. "Who's Kujou-san?"
"The ice princess from our class," Yasuhara supplied helpfully. "Silver hair, super smart, beautiful, totally out of Sora's league—"
"She's not out of my league! Wait, I didn't mean—we're not—it's not like that!"
"He's blushing," Momoharu observed.
"He's very red," Nabe agreed.
"Something definitely happened," Chucky concluded.
"NOTHING HAPPENED!" Sora insisted, his face now the color of a tomato. "We just studied math and then fell asleep—I mean, she stayed over because of the storm and—why are you all looking at me like that?!"
"Fell asleep together, did you?" Chiaki's expression was pure evil. "How romantic."
"IN SEPARATE ROOMS! I slept in my room and she slept in the guest room!"
This was a complete lie. They both knew it was a lie. But Sora was not about to explain the truth to his teammates.
"Sure," Chiaki said, clearly not believing a word. "Separate rooms. Very proper."
Chiaki stood up, stretching lazily. "Well, I need to grab something from my bag. Be right back."
He returned a minute later and casually sat down next to Sora again.
"By the way," Chiaki said quietly, pulling a small box from his pocket. It was discreet, wrapped in plain paper, with a tiny heart sticker on top. "Since you two are getting so... close... you should have this."
He pressed the box into Sora's hand.
Sora looked down at it, confused. "What is this?"
Chiaki leaned in close, whispering directly into Sora's ear: "It's a condom."
Sora blinked. "A what?"
Chiaki sighed, then proceeded to give Sora an extremely detailed, evolution-level explanation of physical intimacy, protection, responsibility, and what exactly might happen when a boy and girl spend the night together—all whispered directly into Sora's increasingly red ear.
With each word, Sora's face went from pink to red to crimson to a shade that didn't exist in nature.
"—and that's why it's important to be prepared and responsible," Chiaki finished.
"CHIAKI-SENPAI!" Sora's shout made everyone at the table jump. His face was absolutely flaming. "WHY WOULD YOU TELL ME ALL THAT?!"
"Because you're clearly clueless," Chiaki said matter-of-factly. "And I'm a responsible senpai."
"I— we— that's not—!" Sora couldn't form coherent sentences.
Chiaki reached for the box. "So you don't want it?"
Sora's hand shot out, snatching the box away protectively. He held it close to his chest, looking utterly embarrassed but determined.
"I didn't say that," he mumbled, his face still burning.
The entire table erupted.
"HE TOOK IT!" Yasuhara shouted.
"OUR LITTLE SORA IS GROWING UP!" Nabe was crying fake tears.
"I can't believe this," Momoharu was shaking his head, grinning.
"Kurumatani-kun," Nao said, her face also slightly red, "please don't do anything inappropriate during the training camp."
"I'M NOT GOING TO—" Sora stopped, realizing that protesting would only make it worse. He buried his face in his hands, the small box still clutched protectively in one fist.
From across the table, Kenji was watching with what might have been amusement. "Your girlfriend must be something special."
"SHE'S NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!"
"Yet he's keeping the protection," Chiaki observed with a knowing smile. "How interesting."
"I hate all of you," Sora muttered into his hands.
But even as he sat there, dying of embarrassment, his mind drifted to Alisa. To waking up with her in his arms. To her hand under his shirt. To the way she'd looked wearing his clothes.
His face somehow got even redder.
Tomorrow evening. Another tutoring session. How am I supposed to face her after... after everything? And now with this stupid box that Chiaki gave me and—
"He's smiling now," Chucky pointed out.
"Definitely thinking about his girlfriend," Nabe concluded.
"SHE'S NOT—" Sora gave up. "You know what? Fine. Think whatever you want."
He stood up, still clutching the box, and stomped toward his sleeping area.
Behind him, the teasing continued, but he barely heard it.
Because tomorrow he'd see Alisa again.
And despite the embarrassment, despite the teasing, despite everything—he couldn't wait.