There were no shortcuts to greatness. No miracles that lasted without sacrifice.
Dirga knew that better than anyone.
Coach Masaki had pointed out multiple weaknesses in his game—but one stood out more than the others. Physicality. His lack of strength and ability to finish through contact. That was his wall.
Dirga couldn't just sit around and wait for his growth spurt to solve it. He needed more than height. He needed strength. He needed to understand how to endure contact, how to finish even when someone was draped over him. He had balance and coordination, yes, but contact was still contact.
And to fix that, he had a plan.
After school, as the basketball club gathered in the gym, the familiar sounds returned—sneakers squeaking, balls bouncing, bodies colliding, and the sharp exhales of effort.
Training began.
The first hour was structured: fundamental drills, team exercises, rhythm work. After that, came the "free training" hour. That was where you picked your focus—1-on-1 sessions, skill-specific work, or sparring with teammates.
Huff… huff… huff…
If yesterday was hell, then today was… hell's basement. They weren't just training—they were digging deeper into it. Every drill felt like advanced Pilates mixed with punishment. Muscles that Dirga didn't even know existed were sore.
"Alright," Coach Masaki called out. "That's it for the first hour. Free training starts now—stick to your own schedule."
…
The gym split into circles.
Aizawa, Kaito, Shota, Naoki, Daichi, Kenta, Tomoaki, Hiroki, and Rei formed the fundamentals group. They were polishing the basics—footwork, shooting form, positioning. Coach Kaito naturally became the instructor, and surprisingly, he was great at it. His voice echoed across the court as he broke down concepts like a seasoned coach.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the gym, Dirga had joined the "physical training" group—Rikuya, Taiga, Yuto… and himself.
Before anyone could question him, Dirga spoke up. "Before any of you say anything—yes, I chose this on purpose. I need to upgrade my balance and finish through contact. This is the best way."
Rikuya raised an eyebrow. "Taiga, you sure you shouldn't be on the other side? You still need to work on your fundamentals."
"My fundamentals are improving, senpai," Taiga shot back, more composed than expected. "But I want to excel in one thing first—scoring and defense. I need to push that part of me."
Dirga blinked. For someone known for his chaos and energy, Taiga's reasoning was… surprisingly sound.
He couldn't help but wonder—What is Rikuya's weakness? The third-year was a beast, a walking wall, dominant in his role. Was there even a crack in that armor?
Their physical training began.
Rikuya and Yuto led the session. It was focused on body fundamentals—stance, balance, impact control. In judo, whoever stayed on their feet won. And that core principle translated perfectly to basketball. Yuto's experience in judo gave him an exceptional lower-body strength and center of gravity. His stance was unique, and his understanding of movement through pressure was almost instinctive.
Dirga absorbed everything.
Rikuya moved like someone who had already won national titles. Calm. Efficient. Ruthless. Every rep had a purpose. Every tip he gave was sharp.
And Yuto—he was like a sponge. He soaked up everything Rikuya offered. Quiet, focused, but powerful in how he executed. That gentle giant wasn't so gentle during training.
Even Taiga had his own way of learning—chaotic but energetic, forcing Rikuya and Yuto to adapt constantly.
One hour passed in the blink of an eye. Dirga's body ached. Bruised. But something inside him toughened. His body was adapting—slowly, but surely.
"Alright, that's it for today," Coach Masaki called out. "Remember, rest is part of training. To improve, you also need to recover."
Since Dirga's team had won the mini tournament, they were exempt from gym cleanup duty today.
"Tomorrow, we start again. And next week—our first scrimmage. Be ready."
"YES, COACH!" the entire team shouted in unison.
"Don't forget to clean the gym," Kaito added, already picking up a mop like a true vice president.
"Hehehe, happy cleaning, senpai~," Dirga grinned, dragging Yuto and Hiroki away with him.
"Remember—we won the game. Don't help them."
"You little devil…" Aizawa muttered, shaking his head.
"Huuuuhhh!!" Taiga added with a dramatic wail, throwing his arms up.
"Enough," Rikuya said flatly. "A bet's a bet. Let's clean."
And just like that, the gym transformed into a battlefield of its own. Rikuya, in full janitor mode, took cleaning more seriously than drills. Dirga couldn't help but wonder if he had a touch of OCD.
"YEAHHH!" the newer members shouted as they got to work—except for Dirga, Yuto, and Hiroki, of course. A win was a win.
Still, Dirga felt a little guilty about heading home early. So he approached Coach Masaki for a quick word.
"Coach."
"Yo, Dirga. Told you we'd meet again."
Yeah… I know. You're talking to a guy from the future, Coach, Dirga thought.
"Something wrong?"
"Yeah. I wanted to ask about my physical limitations. I know I'm in the middle of a growth spurt, but it feels like it's not enough yet."
Coach Masaki nodded. "That's true. But you want to go to Nationals this year, right?"
Dirga tightened his jaw. "Yeah."
"Then you can't make excuses."
Those words hit hard—but true. That was the whole reason Dirga had regressed. To change his fate. To reach Nationals this time.
"I'll make it happen this year," Dirga said firmly.
Masaki just smiled.