Days after Shinwa High's brutal 60-56 loss to Rakuto Military Academy in the Tokyo Principal Cup's Round of 16, the school's hallways buzzed with whispers about the basketball team's collapse. Rakuto's militaristic precision—players moving like disciplined soldiers, their point guard jabbing Kenji's finger in a calculated foul—still haunted Kenji as he slouched in the gym after school. His bandaged finger throbbed, a reminder of the defeat, while his phone buzzed with another text from Ami: "Photoshoot tomorrow, 7 AM. Don't embarrass Kurogane." His modeling contract with Kurogane Sports felt like a chain, pulling him from basketball and now school, where classmates gawked at his billboard ads.
Hana, the team manager, lingered by the bleachers, her notebook clutched tightly as she ignored a pile of untouched math homework. Her usual energy was gone, replaced by a secretive intensity. Kenji had noticed her scribbling during the Rakuto game—not stats, but fragments he couldn't read from the court. Between dodging questions about the loss in history class and Ami's demands, he was too drained to press her—until now.
Haru, skipping computer club to tinker with his tablet, nudged Kenji. "Hana's been weird since Rakuto crushed us. She's acting like she's hiding a bomb."
Kenji glanced at her, the school's fluorescent lights casting shadows on her tense face. "Probably just mad we got outplayed by those robots," he muttered, but her guarded posture stirred unease.
As they packed their bags, Hana's notebook slipped, pages spilling open. A photo fell out: a grainy shot of Saito Tachibana, Kenji's father, mid-dunk on a streetball court, a Kurogane-jacketed figure in the background. Scrawled in Hana's handwriting were the words: "Saito's debt. Kurogane. '98. Murder?"
Kenji's heart stopped, the gym spinning. "Hana, what is this?" His voice echoed, louder than the school bell still ringing in his ears.
Hana lunged for the notebook, but Haru grabbed the photo, his glasses glinting. "Kenji, this is your dad. Kurogane? Hana, what's going on?"
Hana's face paled, her voice a whisper. "I didn't want you to find out like this. I've been digging into Saito's death. It wasn't a car crash. Kurogane was involved."
The tragedy of losing his father at ten surged back, sharper now. Kenji's voice cracked, his schoolbag slipping from his shoulder. "They said it was a drunk driver. That's what they told me."
Hana met his gaze, guilt in her eyes. "That's the cover story. I found old streetball zines in the school library's archives, buried forum posts online. Saito owed Kurogane—gambling debts from rigged games in '98. He crossed them, and then… he was gone. I think they killed him."
Haru's fingers froze on his tablet, eyes wide. "You're saying Kurogane murdered Kenji's dad? And you didn't tell us? We've been stressing over midterms and Rakuto's drone army!"
"I didn't have proof!" Hana snapped, then softened, glancing at her homework pile. "I started digging after seeing Kenji's modeling ads in the school courtyard. Kurogane's obsessed with you—your image, your name. They're using you to rewrite Saito's legacy."
Kenji's mind reeled. His modeling gigs—grueling photoshoots before school, Ami's control—felt sinister now. Classmates whispering about his Kurogane billboards had been bad enough; now they tied to his dad's death? "Why keep this from me?" he asked, voice raw.
"I didn't want to hurt you without answers," Hana said quietly. "I've been contacting sources—an ex-Kurogane bookkeeper named Taro. He's got files, but he's scared."
The gym door burst open, shattering the tension. The recruits barreled in, fresh from dodging detention for skipping study hall. Tatsuya Nakamura tossed a basketball, grinning. "Yo, why the funeral vibes? Rakuto's robots got us, but we'll smoke 'em next year!"
Riku Sato zipped past, clutching a melon bread swiped from the cafeteria, his mismatched shoes squeaking. "I could've outrun their whole lineup! They played like marchin' soldiers!" He mimicked their robotic dribble, nearly tripping over a gym bag.
Kaito Hattori caught a stray ball before it hit a bench, then bowed. "S-sorry! My fault!" The team's laughter echoed, a slice of life grounding them amidst school and loss.
Akira trailed behind, eyeing Hana's notebook. "What's that, Manager? Plan to outsmart Rakuto's terminators?" His grin faded when he saw the photo. "That's Kenji's dad."
Hana stuffed the notebook away, flustered. "Just… old research. Let's focus on next year's Cup and, y'know, passing biology."
Kenji wasn't letting go. "Hana, if Kurogane's behind my dad's death, I need to know. Everything."
Haru nodded, already hacking on his tablet. "I can poke around Kurogane's public servers—marketing logs, maybe memos. If they're using Kenji's modeling for something shady, there's a trail. Even with finals coming up."
Hana took a deep breath. "Okay, but we keep this quiet. Kurogane's got eyes, maybe even in school. Taro's meeting me soon—he's got a USB with encrypted files. It might mention a guy named Hiro, Saito's teammate in '98."
Kenji's chest tightened. Hiro? A new name, another crack in his father's legacy. The tragedy of Saito's death mingled with the sting of Rakuto's defeat and school's pressures—midterms, gossip, Ami's texts. The recruits' antics—Tatsuya's no-look pass hitting Riku, Riku's bread-fueled sprint, Kaito's apologetic bowing—kept him anchored. He couldn't drag them into this yet.
That night, Kenji sat in his cramped apartment, staring at a faded photo of Saito, ball in hand, eyes fierce. School rumors about his modeling and the Rakuto loss swirled in his mind, but the tragedy of his father's death cut deeper, now laced with doubt. Had Saito died for defying Kurogane? His phone buzzed—Ami, another photoshoot before school. The modeling contract was a cage, and Kurogane held the key.
Outside, a shadow flickered under a streetlamp, gone before he could focus. Kurogane was watching. Hana's suspicions had opened a door, and Kenji was ready to step through.