Sora checked back into the game, and immediately the energy in the gymnasium shifted. The crowd—small as it was for a practice match—sensed something different.
Chiaki inbounded the ball to Sora, who caught it and immediately felt the difference from the third quarter. His legs felt fresh again, the brief rest having restored his explosive first step. He dribbled up slowly, his Eagle Eye scanning the entire court from an aerial perspective.
Tarou picked him up at half-court, his defensive stance tight but showing signs of fatigue. The ace-versus-ace battle was about to resume.
"Ready for the finish, shorty?" Tarou said, though his breathing was heavier than before.
Sora didn't respond. He just attacked.
The move was a pure Himuro—a subtle fake to the right, his shoulders dipping, his head turning, selling the drive completely. Tarou's body shifted in response, his weight transferring to cut off the lane.
But it was a lie.
Sora crossed back left with lightning speed, Tarou lunged to recover, but he was a full step behind. Sora was already past him, attacking the paint with the ball on a string.
Konishi stepped up from the weak side, his massive 196cm frame rising to contest. Most players would have second-guessed the shot, looked to pass, tried to avoid the block.
Sora elevated anyway.
But instead of shooting immediately, he performed a pump fake—another Himuro special. Konishi's hand swatted at empty air as his body continued upward on momentum alone.
Sora jumped in the air, his elite jumping ability keeping him suspended while Konishi started descending. Then, with Konishi's hand already past the ball, Sora released a soft shot that kissed off the glass.
The ball dropped through.
80-73, Kuzuryu.
"THAT'S HOW YOU FINISH!" Nabe screamed from the bench.
Tarou brought the ball up, clearly intent on answering immediately. He isolated Sora on the left wing again, using his size to back him down. Two hard dribbles created space, then he spun baseline for that signature stop-and-go shot.
The ball rattled around the rim before falling through.
80-75, Kuzuryu.
Sora pushed the ball up the court himself, not waiting for the defense to set. He crossed half-court and immediately attacked, his speed overwhelming in transition. Two Kitasumi defenders scrambled back, trying to stop the numbers advantage.
Sora drove straight at them, drawing both defenders toward the ball like magnets. Then, with perfect timing, he delivered a behind-the-back pass to Kenji trailing on the wing.
Kenji caught it in rhythm and buried the open three-pointer without hesitation.
83-75, Kuzuryu.
Four minutes and fifteen seconds remaining.
Kitasumi ran their offense through Konishi in the post this time. The big center used his strength to back down Momoharu, gaining position deep in the paint. Momoharu tried to front him, but Konishi's size advantage was too much.
When the entry pass came, Konishi went up strong for the layup. Momoharu jumped to contest, but in his eagerness, he caught Konishi's arm on the way up.
WHISTLE.
Foul on Momoharu. And-one opportunity.
Konishi finished the layup despite the contact, the ball dropping through the net.
83-77, Kuzuryu.
As Momoharu fell to the ground from the contact, Konishi stood over him with a confident expression.
"We're going to win this game, sempai," Konishi said, extending his hand to help Momoharu up.
Momoharu slapped the hand away angrily, getting up on his own. "Don't touch me."
As they walked toward the free-throw line for the and-one attempt, Konishi spoke again, his voice low but carrying clear intention.
"You lied to me, sempai. Back in middle school. You promised we'd meet for practice the next day. You never showed up. You just... quit."
Momoharu's eyes widened. "Konishi, I—"
"I held onto that resentment," Konishi continued, stepping to the free-throw line. "You were my inspiration. And you abandoned basketball. Abandoned me."
He took the free throw, his form perfect despite the emotional conversation.
SWISH.
83-78, Kuzuryu.
Momoharu stood frozen as Konishi jogged back on defense. "What lie?! Konishi, what are you—"
"Focus, bro," Chiaki said, grabbing Momoharu's shoulder. "We're in the middle of a game. Whatever this is, deal with it later."
But Momoharu's mind was racing, trying to remember. Had he promised to meet Konishi? When did he quit? What had he said?
Chiaki brought the ball up, and Momoharu called out instructions on autopilot. "Keep moving the ball! If they score, we score right back!"
But his heart wasn't in it. His mind was elsewhere—back in middle school, back when he'd walked away from basketball because it seemed hopeless against the Generation of Miracles.
-----
Flashback - Two Years Ago, Middle School Gym
A younger, thinner Konishi struggled with basic dribbling drills, his coordination poor, his stamina worse. He was the weakest player on the team, constantly getting yelled at by upperclassmen.
Across the gym, Momoharu was practicing layups. His form was awkward, his timing off. He missed three in a row.
"Hanazono! What are you doing?!" an upperclassman shouted. "How do you miss that many layups?!"
"There's nothing wrong with making mistakes!" Momoharu shot back, his competitive fire evident even then. "Every day I'm improving! Every practice makes me better!"
Konishi, watching from across the gym, felt something stir in his chest. That's... that's the right attitude. Keep trying. Keep improving.
After practice ended, Konishi tried to lower the basketball hoop to put it away.
"Don't," Momoharu said, walking over. "I'm going to practice more."
"Your brother mentioned you do extra training," Konishi said shyly. "Every day after everyone leaves."
"It's called self-practice," Momoharu corrected with a slight smile.
"Can... can I join you?" Konishi asked hesitantly.
Chiaki, who was gathering his things, grinned. "Sure! If you buy me snacks."
"Deal!" Konishi agreed immediately, running to the vending machine.
The extra practice was brutal. Konishi's stamina gave out halfway through, and he collapsed to the gym floor, gasping.
"Why do you practice this much?" Konishi asked between breaths. "We can still play basketball without working this hard, right?"
Momoharu's expression became serious. "To achieve results, you have to train hard. Without hard work, nothing is possible. If you want to improve, you have to push beyond what's comfortable."
Tears welled up in Konishi's eyes. "Then... then I'll give my best effort too! Every day! Just like you, sempai!"
That was the moment Konishi decided to dedicate himself to basketball.
Because Momoharu Hanazono had shown him what passion looked like.
---
Present - Back to the Game
The memory hit Momoharu like a truck as Chiaki passed him the ball in the post.
Konishi was defending him tight, and Momoharu—distracted, emotional—tried to make a move without thinking it through.
"The one thing I hate most," Momoharu growled, "is being called a liar!"
He drove hard toward the basket, but Konishi had read the move. The younger player jumped perfectly, timing his contest to perfection.
SLAP.
Clean block. The ball flew out of bounds.
"Nice defense, Koney!" the Kitasumi bench erupted.
Kenji grabbed Momoharu's jersey. "What the hell was that?! That was reckless!"
"Be quiet!" Momoharu snapped, his emotions boiling over. "I know what I'm doing!"
Konishi's voice was calm but cutting. "Have you forgotten what you said to me, sempai?"
Momoharu froze.
"The last day we spoke in middle school," Konishi continued. "You said 'Let's meet tomorrow for practice.' I waited for two hours. You never came. Because that was the day you quit basketball."
The words hit Momoharu like a physical blow. The memory came flooding back—the day after they'd lost to a school with a monster like player. The day he'd decided basketball was pointless if you couldn't beat monsters.
He'd forgotten about Konishi completely.
On the next possession, Tachibana received a pass from Katori and drove to the rim. The shot hit the rim and bounced high.
Konishi grabbed the offensive rebound with his superior height and immediately went back up for the putback layup.
SWISH.
83-80, Kuzuryu.
Three-point game.
Momoharu stood frozen, staring at the ground, his mind blank.
Chiaki saw his brother's unusual behavior immediately. "TIMEOUT! REF, SUBSTITUTION!"
"Wait!" Sora jogged over, grabbing Momoharu's shoulder. "Are you okay?"
"I'm... fine," Momoharu said, but his voice was hollow.
Sora looked into his captain's eyes and saw the pain there. He turned to Nao on the bench. "Cancel the substitution! Momoharu-senpai is fine! He won't lose to anyone!"
"Sora—" Nao started.
"Trust me!" Sora insisted.
The game resumed, but Momoharu was still absent-minded. Chiaki passed him the ball in transition, but Momoharu's dribble was careless, unfocused.
Katori, Kitasumi's point guard, read it perfectly and darted in for the steal.
"MOMOHARU!" Kenji screamed in frustration. "I told Sora to sub you out!"
Kenji sprinted back to stop Katori's fast break, but in his desperation to prevent the easy layup, he fouled hard.
WHISTLE.
Foul on Kenji. Katori got the and-one opportunity at the rim.
The ball dropped through.
83-82, Kuzuryu.
The Kitasumi bench erupted. "ONE MORE! TIE IT UP!"
Momoharu stood at half-court, his fists clenched. I'm dead weight. I'm holding everyone back. Just like in middle school. I'm not good enough.
Sora jogged over, his voice gentle. "Momoharu-senpai."
"Leave me alone, Sora."
"Katori's about to take the free throw. We need you to get the rebound."
"I can't—"
"Yes, you can," Sora interrupted. He grabbed Momoharu's shoulders, forcing the taller player to look at him. "Remember what you told me? Show me how it feels to fly. Show me what it means to soar above everyone else."
Momoharu's eyes widened.
"Show me, sempai. Show Konishi. Show everyone what Momoharu Hanazono can do."
Something shifted in Momoharu's expression. The fog lifted slightly.
Katori stepped to the free-throw line for his second attempt.
"Konishi," Momoharu called out suddenly.
The big center looked over.
"I'm sorry," Momoharu said, his voice carrying across the silent gym. "I broke my promise. I quit on basketball. I quit on you. And I'm sorry."
Konishi's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes.
"I can't take it back," Momoharu continued. "And I might not be able to catch up to you now. But a teammate of mine—" he glanced at Sora, "—taught me the value of never giving up. So I won't yield. Not now. Not ever again."
Katori took the free throw.
The ball hit the front rim, bounced high—
And Momoharu exploded upward.
His jumping ability, honed through years of practice even during his time away from organized basketball, was on full display. He rose above Konishi, above everyone, and snatched the rebound out of the air with both hands.
Konishi stared in shock. That jumping ability... I forgot how high sempai could jump.
---
Flashback Fragment
"No one's better than me at rebounding!" a younger Momoharu had declared in middle school practice. "This is what I'm best at!"
--
Present
"MOMOHARU!" the Kuzuryu bench erupted.
Madoka was on her feet, smiling. Their friendship... it's beautiful.
Momoharu landed with the ball, immediately passing to Chiaki.
"Eight-point deficit is nothing!" Momoharu shouted, his fire returning. "We're catching up! LET'S GO!"
The energy shifted completely.
Chiaki pushed the pace, and the offense flowed. He passed to Sora on the wing.
Sora called for a screen from Momoharu. As Momoharu set it, Sora attacked off the pick. The defense rotated, and Sora made a quick pass back to Momoharu cutting to the rim.
Momoharu went up for the dunk—
But he pump-faked mid-air instead, causing Konishi to bite on the contest.
When Konishi's momentum carried him past, Momoharu passed to Sora relocating to the corner.
Tachibana tried to close out, but he was too late. His hand barely touched the ball as Sora released.
SWISH.
86-82, Kuzuryu.
Three minutes and thirty seconds remaining.
But more importantly—Momoharu was back.
And Kuzuryu High was ready to finish this.
"Let's go on offense together!" Momoharu said, patting Sora's head with a grin.
Sora smiled back. "Yeah! Let's do it!"
The stage was set for the final push.