The Shinwa High classroom buzzed with chatter, sunlight streaming through tall windows as Kenji Tachibana doodled a phantom dribble play in his notebook. The history teacher droned about Tokyo's '90s sports boom, her words brushing against Saito's 1998 legacy, and Kenji's healed finger twitched, itching for the court. Last night's mysterious key—unmarked, heavy, Shinjuku hub design—sat in his pocket, a puzzle tied to Kaede's double-agent roster and Hoshino's fake USB delivery. The Aoyama Tech friendly loomed, a test of "Phantom Shift" against their sharpshooters, but Kaito Kurogane's traps to frustrate Kenji's game and his father's shadow league, linked to Saito's murder, made school life feel like a calm before the storm.
Across the room, Hana Mizuno scribbled in her own notebook, her student council pin glinting as she prepped a club fair report. Her eyes flicked to Kenji, a quiet spark passing between them. "Focus," she mouthed, half-smiling, her mind clearly on the fake USB bait and the Shinjuku hub raid. Rin Matsuoka, silent at his desk, solved a physics problem with the same precision as his 95% three-point shooting, earning a nod from the teacher. Jiro, sneaking candy under his desk, whispered to Riku, "Bet I can out-dribble this equation." Riku grinned, his speed on the court matched by his quick quips. Kaito Hattori, clumsy as ever, dropped his pencil, earning laughs, while Daichi, proudly waving a passing quiz, caught Hana's approving glance—his growth since the fair undeniable.
But whispers rippled through the class. "Kenji's distracted," a girl muttered, echoing Kaito's planted rumor about his modeling fame. A new student, a quiet kid with sharp eyes, watched Hana's notebook too closely, his bag sporting a subtle Kurogane logo. Kenji's jaw tightened. School was no safe haven—not with Kaito's dad, the '98 mastermind, watching.
At lunch, the basketball club room was a haven of chaos. Jiro manned a club fair booth setup, tossing a candy wrapper at Riku. "Dunk contest tomorrow—you in?" Riku smirked, "Only if you don't trip like Kaito." Kaito Hattori, stacking posters, tripped on a chair, laughing, "Sorry, got it!" Daichi arranged hoops for a trick-shot demo, his hustle shining. Rin, polishing his knee brace, sank a mini-hoop shot, his "Aim. Fire. Win" mantra quiet but firm. Hana, organizing the fair, sketched Aoyama plays, her voice low. "The fake USB's in your bag, Kenji. Let Hoshino think it's the real hub files. We hit Shinjuku tonight."
Akira, hunched over game tapes, spotted Hoshino in Aoyama crowd footage. "He'll be there," he growled, Hoshino's nod and "Choose" note burning in his mind. "If he's with Kaito's dad, I'll end it." Kenji nodded, feeling the key's weight. Kaede's roster—her name circled—hinted at a deeper game, and the Principal Cup was closing in.
In the gym, drills roared to life. Coach Morita's voice echoed, "Aoyama's sharpshooters hit 88% from deep—Rin, you're our ace! Phantom Shift, variation six!" Rin sank a three, his knee brace creaking but his aim flawless—swish, 95% accuracy. Kenji's phantom dribble dodged a mock trap, his healed finger flicking a pass to Rin—another swish. Jiro's cut slashed through, Riku's speed burned, and Tatsuya's fake pulled a mock defender wide. Kaito Hattori blocked a shot, stumbling but grinning, "Nailed it!" Daichi grabbed a rebound, his focus sharp.
Hana signaled a fake "Shift Blitz," fed to the new "fan" filming—another Kurogane spy. "Let Aoyama bite," she whispered, her pen mapping Kaito's traps: Taiga's elbows, rigged refs. Morita clapped Kenji's shoulder. "Saito broke traps like these. You will too." His '98 guilt lingered, but his trust in Kenji was ironclad.
That afternoon, at a Kurogane studio, Kenji posed for a high-energy shoot, his healed finger spinning a ball with flair. The exec, Kaito's puppet, smirked, "Don't slip at Aoyama, kid—fame's fading fast." A taunt to rattle him, straight from Kaito's playbook. Ami, her engagement ring glinting, slipped him a burner phone with a Shinjuku hub map. "Kaito's dad knows you hit the warehouse. He's pushing rigged refs for Aoyama. Kaede's gone dark—watch her." A crew member, sporting an Enforcer-like Kurogane pin, eyed Kenji's bag, where the fake USB waited. "They're hunting the hub files," Ami added, voice low.
Kenji's defiance flared. "Let Kaito try," he said, the key in his pocket a reminder of the stakes. Hoshino's USB delivery, Kaede's roster, and Kaito's traps tied his fame to the court—and Saito's truth.
That evening, at Shinwa's club fair, the courtyard buzzed. Kenji and Hana manned a basketball booth, their banter drawing students. "Show 'em, Kenji," Hana teased, tossing him a ball. He spun it on his healed finger, grinning, the crowd cheering. Rin launched a trick shot—swish, earning gasps, his shooting ace status shining. Jiro and Riku ran a dunk contest, Riku soaring, Jiro joking, "Better than math!" Kaito Hattori tripped over a hoop, laughing, while Daichi led kids in drills, his confidence soaring.
But the new student lingered, asking Hana about the booth, his eyes on her notebook. "Nice fair," he said, too smooth, his Kurogane logo glinting. Hana's smile didn't waver, but she whispered to Kenji, "Spy. Keep the USB visible." Akira, at the booth's edge, spotted Hoshino in the crowd, his nod gone, eyes locked on the team.
Post-fair, in the club room, Haru opened his laptop. "Hub files are ready—Kaito's dad's bribes, '98 hit orders. Kaede's note said 'Trust half, expose all.' She's playing both sides." Hana's pen flew. "We raid Shinjuku tonight, use the key. If Hoshino's with us, he'll deliver the fake USB. If not, we're ready." Her hand found Kenji's, grounding him.
Morita shared a rare '98 story: Saito rallying Shinwa's club fair, his pride uniting the team. "You're his kid, Kenji. Lead like him." Akira sketched a new Phantom Shift variant, countering Aoyama's shooters. "Hoshino's there tomorrow," he said, voice steel. "I'll know his choice."
As they left for Shinjuku, Kenji felt the key's weight. The hub raid loomed, Aoyama's whistle neared, and Kaito's dad watched. In the courtyard, a basketball rolled to a stop at Kenji's feet. Inside, a single key—identical to the hub's, unmarked, heavy. No sender, no note—just a challenge, daring them to unlock the truth before Aoyama's tip-off.