Yukio caught the ball just outside the arc, his sneakers skidding slightly against the polished court as he stopped on a dime. The sharp screech of rubber soles echoed through the tense gym, but in that moment, the noise dulled to a distant hum inside his mind.
A sudden, cold wave of doubt crashed over him.
His breath hitched as the memory struck—last season's final game, down by a single point. The ball had landed in his hands, passed by his older brother with unyielding trust blazing in his eyes.
"Shoot!" his brother had shouted, voice sharp, desperate.
But Yukio had hesitated.
What if I miss? The fear had frozen him like ice. His fingers had trembled, the ball heavy and foreign.
The referee's whistle blew.
They lost.
The silence that followed had pressed down on him like a weight, sinking into his chest, seeping into his bones.
Now, back in the gym, the memory faded but the tension remained. The ball felt heavy in his hands again, but this time it wasn't fear.
Not this time.
Yukio inhaled slowly, steadying himself. His arms rose—steady, deliberate—and he launched the three-pointer.
It hit the rim with a loud metallic bounce—clank—then rattled, once, twice. For a second, everything seemed suspended in place. The ball wobbled on the edge, then finally dropped through the net with a sharp swish that broke the quiet.
The scoreboard lights blinked, then flipped to 88–89 in favor of Toshigawa.
Yuri, seated near the baseline with her legs tucked beneath her, instinctively lifted the camera and snapped a photo the moment the ball fell through the net. The shutter clicked crisply as the flash briefly lit her determined face.
A sharp burst of noise followed—Airi from Toshigawa's newspaper club, who had come along to cover the match, jumped from the bench. "Yes!! Let's go, Toshigawa!!" she shouted, pumping her fist. Her voice cut through the stunned Yokonan crowd.
Kanae, watching from the side with folded arms, smirked. "Not bad," she muttered under her breath, raising one eyebrow.
Then the crowd erupted, their voices swelling into a wave of gasps and shouts as Toshigawa took the lead with only a few seconds remaining. The sharp slap of hands and murmurs filled the humid gym, where the heavy smell of sweat and rubber lingered.
"It went in!! We've won!" Yukio shouted, his shoulders heaving as a huge smirk spread across his face. His jersey clung to his back, soaked in sweat, and the heat from the court's surface radiated up through his shoes.
"Finally, man, it's over," Hayato said, exhaling a heavy breath. The tension drained from his face. "He made the shot. We defeated Yokonan."
"He scored, Tetsuo won—it's such a relief," Haruko thought to herself. Her chest rose and fell unevenly as she blinked, trying to process the moment.
"Quit celebrating! Time is still on the clock! Get back on defense!" Tetsuo yelled. His voice was sharp, unflinching, and cut through the roar like a whistle. His expression didn't change, but the firmness in his tone made everyone snap back into position.
Kayano grabbed the ball quickly and threw a long inbound pass across the court. The ball slapped against the hardwood and bounced up into Kogure's reach. Kogure sprinted after it, his sneakers screeching against the floor, and Tetsuo gave chase. The distance between them narrowed as the final seconds ticked away.
"Damn, we messed up big time," Yukio muttered, turning and forcing his legs to move. The muscles in his thighs burned, and each step felt heavier than the last. "Crap!! I'm at my limit," he said, his knees wobbling. He stumbled, fell forward, his palms smacking against the slick floor. His chest thudded with the impact, and he tried to push himself up, but his arms trembled under the weight.
"Go, Kogure!!! End this game!!" Kayano shouted, desperation ringing in his voice.
"Kogure-senpai, finish this!! We believe in you!!" shouted a group of girls from the sidelines, their voices rising in a chorus of hope.
Kogure reached the paint in three fast strides and jumped high, arms extended, sweat trailing from his fingertips. But Tetsuo launched upward beside him, body rigid and vertical, eyes tracking the ball.
"I won't allow you," Tetsuo said, his arm meeting Kogure's at the peak. The force of the block echoed with a sharp slap of skin on leather.
Kogure gritted his teeth, recognizing the challenge in front of him. The weight of the moment pressed down on his chest.
"Huh? Tetsuo, I see," he thought, adrenaline surging as he locked eyes with him.
Kogure could feel the heat rising off both their bodies—chests heaving, muscles tensed, sweat flying as they clashed at the peak of their jumps. The sound of the crowd faded into a dull throb behind the pounding in his ears.
"Even though I haven't seen you for years… it seems you've kept your promise."
Tetsuo's arm was firm, his expression unreadable but unrelenting.
Kogure felt a pulse of emotion swell in his throat. "You've gotten a whole lot better than when we were kids."
A drop of sweat rolled past his temple as he blinked rapidly. For a brief second, he saw the past—two kids, a promise, a future written in hardwood courts.
"You may not remember me…" he admitted silently, the sting of that reality hitting hard.
"…but at least you still continued playing basketball."
He exhaled sharply through his nose, feeling the pushback from Tetsuo's arm.
"And that's why…" his grip on the ball tightened as he began to twist,
"…we were able to meet again."
In a swift motion, Kogure twisted mid-air. The ball slipped from Tetsuo's fingers, and Kogure wrapped it behind his back, spinning and flicking it off the glass. The ball touched the backboard with a soft tap and fell cleanly through the net as the referee's whistle shrieked.
The gym fell silent. The only sounds were labored breathing, squeaking soles shifting on the floor, and the faint hum of the scoreboard clock halting.
"Basket counts!" the referee announced, his voice ringing out.
Kogure exhaled hard, his body dropping to the floor. "Phew."
"Oh no, we lost. No way," Shino whispered. His lips trembled, and his eyes filled with tears.
"God dammit, I shouldn't have celebrated so early" Hayato said bitterly .
That was way too close for comfort," Kayano muttered, standing frozen as he stared at the hoop.
"Damn, we lost, but we were so close," Takahiro said. He stood beside Tetsuo, both of them silent for a long moment. Tetsuo's eyes didn't move. His chest rose and fell slowly, but he showed no sign of frustration or defeat.
"Oh no, they lost… Tetsuo…" Haruko thought, watching Tetsuo's unreadable face. The sting in her chest deepened.
The crowd began to clap, some slowly at first, then building. It was a rare applause—for the losing team.
"Great work, Toshigawa, you're one hell of a team!" a voice shouted from the soccer club.
"You guys did well, you were so close despite only having six members," said a student from Yokonan.
"You did well, number eleven! Don't let this get you down! This game could've gone either way."
"All the best in the tournament; we believe you guys can go places!" a girl called out.
"What!! Are they praising us?" Shino said, blinking, his voice small.
"Toshigawa Academy did a good job against us," Keichiro muttered.
Coach Arimoto nodded. "I hate to admit it, but they have all the key players they need to compete. All they need now is to elevate their game for the tournament. And let's not forget about their coach—a high school girl. She is absolutely brilliant. Maybe I speak with the school board to hire her as my assistant when she graduates."
The referee raised his hand. "Both teams, line up!"
Everyone made their way to the half-court line. Noboru was absent, but no one asked. Sweat still dripped down some players' faces as they bowed.
"Thank you for the match," both teams said in unison.
Nanaho's hands trembled slightly as she clapped. "You guys did well. I hope this loss doesn't get to their heads," she thought.
Kayano approached Hayato. "That was a great match, Hayato. I hope to see more from you."
"Yes, you're pretty alright yourself," Hayato said with a grin, still catching his breath. "I'll be coming back for revenge at the Inter-High preliminaries."
Kayano raised an eyebrow. "I see. Well, your team has its work cut out for it."
"What do you mean?" Hayato asked, tilting his head.
"You have two powerhouse teams to overcome before you even get to the preliminaries," Kayano replied. He shifted his weight slightly and smirked, arms crossed loosely over his chest. "And trust me when I say this—they are strong."
"I see. Thanks for the heads up," Hayato nodded.
"It's been a while, Yukio," Keichiro said, stepping toward him.
"Yeah, you could say that," Yukio answered, wiping his forehead.
"How's your brother?" Keichiro asked
"He's been well; we just haven't spoken as of late," Yukio replied, glancing aside.
"That's good to hear. Has he been keeping up with his basketball training?"
"I can't say I'm sure about that."
"I see. You guys have done well against us. I hope we can play again someday, and next time, I'll be playing," Keichiro added.
"It won't make a difference. Next time, we plan on winning," Yukio replied.
Keichiro smiled slightly and turned away.
"We won, huh?" Eiji said, grinning.
"Yeah, barely," Keichiro responded, slapping Eiji on the head.
"Ouch! Why, though? I didn't do anything."
"That's captain to you."
"Listen up, everyone!" Keichiro shouted, his voice cutting through the leftover buzz in the gym.
The team froze in place. Sweat rolled down their necks, jerseys stuck to their backs, shoes squeaking slightly as players shifted weight uncomfortably.
"What you did today showed me that all of you are slacking off. We almost lost a game at our own home court, and in the history of this team, that's never happened."
Keichiro's glare swept over them.
"I'm really disappointed in your performance, even though we won."
A tense silence followed. Only the faint hum of the overhead lights and the rhythmic drip of condensation from the AC unit filled the gap.
"So, starting tomorrow, the A team will be joining me on our runs before and after training. Am I clear?"
"Yes! Captain!!" they responded in unison, though several voices cracked with fatigue and frustration.
Keichiro turned to the side, eyes sharp. "That includes both of you too. We're doing this as a team."
Kayano groaned and tilted his head back. He dragged a hand down his face, his breath heavy.
"Seriously, you've got to be kidding me," he sighed.
Beside him, Kogure rolled his neck and gave a small stretch, arms resting behind his head.
"If we want to stay on top, this is the price," he said coolly, his tone calm but firm.
"No one remembers a team that only wins easy games."
Kayano glanced at him, scoffing lightly. "Yeah, yeah. You're starting to sound like the captain now."
As Toshigawa's players exited the court, Manabu watched silently from the sideline.
His eyes locked onto Tetsuo, walking calmly near the back of the group.
Manabu's fist tightened at his side.
"I'll become better… so I can defeat you the next time we meet."
Outside the gym, a boy asked, "Hey, how did the game go against Toshigawa?"
"We won against them, but barely. Kogure scored a basket in the final second."
"Really? That guy truly is something else."
"You can say that again," the student said, his voice carrying faintly through the hallway.
Noboru lay in the infirmary, the ceiling fan spinning slowly above him. The soft murmur reached his ears through the slightly cracked door.
He turned on his side, the thin bedsheet rustling beneath him. His body felt heavy, his ribs still sore. His gaze drifted toward the window, unfocused.
"I see… so we lost, huh?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
Evening fell. The shadows stretched across the sidewalk as Toshigawa's team walked toward the front gate. Their steps were slow, heavy.
"They all seem so bummed out," Haruko thought. She looked at Tetsuo, who walked silently beside them, his gaze forward, face calm. "But I think they did a good job. That match could have gone either way. One thing's for sure—Tetsuo is really good, and he's so cool."
Nanaho's eyes moved from player to player as they walked across the school grounds toward the front gate. The evening air was warm and still, heavy with the scent of sweat, asphalt, and the faint trace of freshly cut grass. Streetlights had begun to flicker on in the distance, casting a soft yellow glow across the courtyard.
Their footsteps crunched lightly against the gravel path. No one spoke.
"I have to figure out a way to break this silence," she thought, adjusting her clipboard against her side. The loss still lingered over them, thick and weighty.
She glanced over at Noboru, walking near the middle of the group. His posture was slouched, eyes unfocused, hands tucked in his jacket pockets. Normally, he'd be talking, maybe throwing out a half-joke or arguing about a call. But now?
"Noboru is usually loud and confident," she thought. "But now he seems really down."
Suddenly, the sharp sound of running footsteps approached.
"Tetsuo!!! Tetsuo!!!" a girl's voice called, echoing in the still air.
"Huh? Who's that girl?" Shino asked, startled.
Everyone on Toshigawa Academy's team stopped and watched as Aoi embraced Tetsuo in a big hug, tears streaming down her face.
"Whaaat?!" everyone gasped.
"How does she know Tetsuo? Are they dating?" Haruko wondered, a jolt running through her chest.
"Tetsuo, you sly dog. How are you bagging the ladies so easily?" Noboru said to himself. He chuckled, shaking his head. "Man, I'm so jealous."
Tetsuo stood motionless, his arms at his sides, eyes blinking slowly. "Who is this girl?" he wondered.
"Aoi... Kogure told me everything—that you were that boy we knew years ago..." Her voice cracked, shaky and uneven, trembling with the weight of years lost. Her hands clung tightly to the back of his uniform, fingers curling and trembling as if afraid to let go. "I can't believe you're here after all this time... I thought I'd never see you again." Her breath hitched, and a soft shiver ran through her. "You just disappeared from my life, and I didn't know where you'd gone. I missed you so much... every day."
"Kogure told her? What is she talking about?" Tetsuo thought, trying to recall any memory of the girl. "I don't know her, do I?"