By the end of the 6 weeks hell training, everyone visibly improve. The bench can now probably beat Miuradai as long as that big bald guy doesn't play. I guess this solves Shohoku's weakness in the anime and manga, the depth of the team and the bench. In the anime and manga back in my last life, the bench players we're pitifully weak. So if someone from the starting line-up gets sent to the bench, no one can stand up to play and carry the missing link. That weakness is also what almost all the teams our team get to face in canon events always take advantage of it.
On a completely unrelated side note, The gang finally met Uncle and Auntie. It was a happy day I supposed, But I will tackle it next time.
++++++++++++++++++++++
Last week of training before the start of the InterHigh Tournament. The team is busy with last minutes drill and stamina training.
The gym doors creaked open mid-warmup, drawing a few glances from the Shohoku players already deep into their drills. A lean figure stepped inside, his movements casual but precise, like someone used to slipping through tight spaces and crowded courts.
The person in question , Ryota Miyagi stood just 168 centimeters tall, his dark brown hair curled upward into a tight pompadour, giving him a slightly rebellious edge, softened only by the quiet glint of a single earring in his left ear.
The seniors, especialy his batchmates in 2nd year.
"Hey! It's Miyagi!"
"Miyagi! Welcome back!"
"I'm back!" bowing slightly to Akagi and Kogure.
Akagi gave a grunt of acknowledgment. "Miyagi, welcome back!" Kogure greeted.
"Coach!!" Ryota beamed as soon as he noticed that coach Anzai is present in the courtside. Running towards the white haired old man, "Coach Good morning!" bowing deeply. "I am back and I apologize for being a nuisance to the team."
"HOHOHO, it's fine." Coach Anzai, seated quietly with his stopwatch, raised a hand and pointed toward the sideline. Ryota understood. No introductions needed. He dropped his bag, tied his sneakers, and joined the warm-up line like he'd always been part of it. There was no tension. No drama.
=========
Midway through defensive rotations, the gym doors slam open.
The sound echoes like a gunshot against the polished floors. Everyone freezes mid-step. Even the squeak of sneakers halts.
Mitsui walks in, flanked by his old crew. Their presence is loud—leather jackets, swagger, the kind of energy that doesn't belong in a gym. But Mitsui's eyes aren't scanning the room. They're locked on one person.
Coach Anzai is seated at the far end, stopwatch still ticking, gaze steady beneath his white brows.
Sakuragi's eyes narrow. His muscles tense.
'Oh hell no. This is it. This is the scene. The gang fight. The broken nose. The blood on the gym floor. I knew it—I knew this day was coming.'
He shifts his weight, subtly stepping in front of Haruko and the others. Yohei's already moving. Without a word, he and the gang and surprisingly a couple of the bench guys quietly position themselves near Ayako, Haruko and her friends, forming a loose wall—not aggressive, just ready. Some of them even nudges the girls gently behind them, eyes never leaving the newcomers.
Hanamichi in a low voice "Just in case." Haruko blinks, confused but grateful.
Yohei seconded "Stay behind us." the girls huddle close, sensing the tension. Hanamichi clocks the move and nods internally. 'Good. Yohei's got them. I'll take the front line. If this goes down, we go down swinging.'
But then Mitsui drops his bag.
He runs.
Not with the grace of a shooting guard—but with the desperation of someone chasing something he thought he'd lost forever.
He kneels in front of Coach Anzai, hands trembling, voice cracking.
And without any second thought saying the once iconic lines "Coach… I want to play basketball again!"
Silence.
Sakuragi blinks. His fists unclench.
'Wait—what? No fight? No broken ribs? He's crying?!'
Even Mitsui's gangster friends look stunned. One of them shifts awkwardly, like they're seeing something they weren't prepared for.
Coach Anzai doesn't speak. He simply places a hand on Mitsui's shoulder. It's gentle. Steady. Forgiving. Kogure steps forward, quiet but firm, and offers Mitsui a towel. Akagi's voice cuts through the silence, low and commanding: "Get changed. We start again in five."
One of Mitsui's friends mutters: "What are we supposed to do now?"
Sakuragi watches Mitsui walk toward the locker room, towel in hand, shoulders shaking slightly.
'Okay. That was... not what I expected. No fists. No chaos. Just tears and towels. Did I just rewrite canon by existing? -----Who am I kidding, of course I did, fucking idiot.
He glances at Mitsui again. Coach Anzai blows his whistle. Everyone flinches.
The gangster not knowing what to do, standing stupidly by the door. When they heard a timid voice "Eto---do you guys want to watch us practice? we have some chairs by the side and you can watch and cheer for your friend if you want?"
The gangsters were shocked to hear this, looking at the person who spoke, Yasuda still shaking on his shoes, standing in front of the gangsters, " But you have to remove your shoes because they are not for the basketball ball court, it might damage the floor, if it's ok with you guys."
One of Mitsui's friends mutters: "He's got guts." "YEah"
"Come on let's see how Mitsi-boy play. Maybe it will be fun" The other shrugs and took off their shoes to stay and watch. Sakuragi watches them go, stunned. 'Wow, Yasuda got em balls alright'
And so the team went back to their routine, with the addition of Mitsui and Miyagi. At the same time, the group of troublesome people who in turn became Mitsui's cheering team...
The gym was alive with motion—sneakers squeaking, whistles blowing, voices calling out screens and switches. Mitsui stood at the edge of the court, freshly changed into a spare clothes Kogure lent him, eyes scanning the drill setup like he was trying to memorize every cone, every rotation.
Coach Anzai gave a quiet nod. Ayako handed him a clipboard. "You're in. Start with perimeter shooting. Let's see if the legend's still got it."
Mitsui stepped onto the court. The ball felt familiar in his hands—like something he'd lost and just found again under his bed after years of dust.
He took the first shot. Swish.
Then another. Swish. The rhythm came back faster than expected. From the bleachers, his old crew watched in silence. Leather jackets traded for school uniforms, or at least less threatening hoodies. One leaned forward, elbows on knees.
The long haired-helmet haiting-matured looking Tetsuo " well look what we have here. We have the MVP in our gang and we didn't even think of making him play some betting game on those street courts."
HAHAHAHAHAHA , the group laughed in good heart...
They cheer loudly. Every time Mitsui sank a shot, someone muttered "Nice," or clapped once, They are proud.
Sakuragi noticed them and raised an eyebrow. 'Okay, this is surreal. Mitsui's gang is acting like a fan club. What's next, matching jerseys?'
Yohei jogged past Sakuragi during a drill and whispered "They're not bad guys. Just needed someone to follow. Looks like they chose right."
Coach Anzai blew his whistle "Full-court scrimmage. Mitsui, you're with the seniors." No one objected.
As the scrimmage began, Mitsui moved like he'd never left—calling screens, rotating on defense, sinking threes with quiet precision. His gang watched every play, cheering, nudging each other, even shouting once when he nailed a fadeaway jumper.
NPC Gangmember "That's our Mitchi!!!
By the end of practice, Mitsui was drenched in sweat, breathing hard, but smiling. Not the cocky grin from his delinquent days—just quiet satisfaction.
As he walked off the court, one of his friends tossed him a sports drink. "You looked good out there."
"Thanks, I need to go to the barber. I think I need to have a haircut. My hairs' going on my face. That red-haired's hair looks quite good actually.
"True, let's go. We'll go with you" They left together, supporting their friend with his dream.
++++++++++++++
The sun hung low over Shohoku High, casting long shadows across the pavement. The gym doors creaked open as the last of the team trickled out, sweat-soaked and exhausted from drills that felt more like military conditioning than basketball practice.
Hanamichi stepped outside, towel slung around his neck, still catching his breath. His legs ached from Demon's Circuit, and his shirt clung to him like a second skin. He wasn't complaining—he liked the burn. It meant he was getting stronger.
Behind him, the manager crew emerged—Haruko, Matsui, and Yujii—each carrying clipboards, water bottles, and the kind of quiet authority that came from knowing every stat, every rotation, and every player's limits better than the players themselves.
Haruko spotted Hanamichi and walked over, her friends trailing behind. "Hanamichi-kun."
He turned, surprised but not flustered. They'd worked together long enough that the awkwardness had faded. They were part of the backbone of the team.
"Yo, Haruko, You guys survived the whistle too?"
Yujii answered while grinning "Barely. Ayako said she's filing a noise complaint."
Matsui clarified "Against Coach Anzai's whistle. Not Coach Anzai."
Haruko smiled and stepped forward. "I just wanted to say thank you—for earlier. When Mitsui and his friends showed up… you moved fast. You didn't hesitate."
Hanamichi shrugged, wiping his face with his towel. "I thought it was gonna be a fight. I've seen enough to know how that scene usually goes."
"Still. You didn't just protect Ayako-san. You shielded all of us."
"You're part of the team. Also I am not the only one one. The gang and everyone covered you guys and will definitely protect you four as well. Managers or not, you're in the gym every day. You run drills, track stats, patch us up when we're stupid. Of course we've got your back." smiling brightly at the woman in front of him.
Haruko blinked, then nodded slowly, a red tint spreading from her ears. Her friends exchanged glances, quietly impressed.
"Thanks, Hanamichi-kun. That means a lot."
He gave a small grin, then winced as his calf cramped. "Ow—okay, maybe I need one of those manager patches right now."
Yujii offered "We've got ice packs in the office. Come on, hero."
++++++++++++++++++++
The door clicked shut behind him, and Hanamichi let out a long breath. His shoulders ached, his calves were still twitching from Demon's Circuit, and his shirt was damp enough to wring out. But the silence of his house was oddly comforting.
He headed to the kitchen—modern, spacious, with a fridge that actually had options. He scanned the shelves.
"Leftover pork belly, eggs, cabbage, rice. Alright, we're eating like a retired pro tonight."
He tied a towel around his neck and got to work. The pan hissed as he stir-fried the pork, tossing in garlic and soy sauce with practiced ease. He cracked two eggs into a separate pan, scrambled them with chopped cabbage, and reheated the rice from earlier.
As the food came together, he leaned against the counter, watching the steam rise.
"Mitsui's back. Ryota's in. No fights. That's not how it went in the anime…"
He plated the food, added a drizzle of sesame oil, and sat at the long dining table—solid wood, polished, way too big for one person.
He ate slowly, savoring the meal and the silence. The house was quiet, but not lonely. It felt like a place waiting for something to happen. "Tomorrow's another grind."
He finished his meal, washed the dishes, and glanced at the garage door. "The car's well maintained. I don't have a license tho...What a bummer."
He smirked, flicked off the kitchen light, and headed upstairs—tired, sore, and quietly satisfied.
The house was quiet, but Hanamichi's mind wasn't.
Shohoku had changed. The drills were harder, the team tighter, and the story—his story—was no longer following the script he remembered. Ryota had returned without friction. Mitsui had knelt, cried, and been welcomed without a single punch thrown. Even the gang that once threatened chaos now sat in the bleachers, cheering like old friends.
He glanced at the framed photo on the bedside drawer—his father, smiling faintly, arms crossed like he knew something Sakuragi didn't.
"I'm doing alright, Pops. Not perfect. But I'm holding the line."
+++++++++++++++++++++
There....took me time to finish this one. I don't want to make Mitsui and miyagi's return last many chapters but I also don't want to make it rushed. I hope I did a good job here.
Give me some reviews so I can know if I'm doing something worthwhile.
I am planning to rush it if there are no review and communication with the readers. I don't want to continue writing knowing that no one cares anyways...