Shark Gym
Clang!
The sharp sound of weight plates clashing echoed through the gym.
In the strength zone, Araki had just finished a set of squats. She grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat off her face.
The wall clock's hands pointed right at six.
Normally, by this time, Araki would already have left home, picked Kota up at Kaijo, and brought him back for dinner.
But today…
"Damn it…"
Araki stared at the clock on the wall. A strange irritation welled up inside her.
At some point, she had gotten used to having Kota around. She even unconsciously set an extra pair of chopsticks and a bowl on the table.
Even though before… she had always eaten alone.
Huff—
She took a deep breath, suppressing the discomfort in her chest, and put her focus back on the barbell.
Hands braced against the steel, she pressed the weight onto her shoulders. With a grunt, Araki stood up under the load and sank into another squat.
Just then, the gym doors flew open with a loud bang—
"Miss Masako!"
Her pupils shrank. That voice—familiar yet unexpected. Could it be…?
Impossible.
Still squatting under the barbell, Araki's heart jumped. A mix of doubt and hope tugged at her chest as she turned her eyes toward the door.
"You're supposed to be in Chi—"
But she cut herself off. Because she finally saw who it was.
Kise.
The brief spark of hope inside her crashed straight back down. That rise-and-fall in emotion made her lose all stability, and the strength in her legs collapsed.
Clang!
The barbell crashed to the ground this time.
"Miss Masako!!! Are you okay?!"
"Damn it—help me up, you idiot."
…
…
A little later, the two sat on the sofa, finally done with the chaotic rescue attempt.
Araki tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stared calmly at Kise, forcing her voice to sound steady.
"Alright, say it. What did you come here for?"
Kise sat awkwardly, hands on his knees, still guilty about what had just happened. But when he heard her question, his face turned serious.
"Kota took leave. Not just from basketball, but from class too! And when I went to his place—nobody was home! Miss Masako… Kota didn't get into trouble, did he?"
Araki arched an eyebrow, stood up, and went to the water dispenser. She filled a cup, set it in front of him, and still hadn't said a word.
But Kise's eyes stayed locked on her.
"Do you know anything? Please, if you do—tell me. I'm begging you."
He lowered his head, shut his eyes tight. He needed answers. Why hadn't Kota told him anything? Where had he gone? It weighed on him more than he expected.
Tap… tap… tap…
Araki's fingers drummed softly on the table. She glanced at the wall clock again, then spoke in a slow voice:
"If he didn't tell you, I can't say much either. I'm sure he has his reasons."
Kise bit his lip, frustration flickering across his face. Thankfully, with his head still lowered, Araki didn't notice.
"But I can promise you this" Araki added. "Kota isn't in any danger. You don't need to worry."
She took a breath, then said softly:
"He's just… walking further and further down the path of chasing his dream."
…
…
"Move! Move!"
"Don't leave him open for three—stick with him!"
"Watch the paint! Don't lose your man—this guy's passing is insane!"
China National Training Facility
At the top of the arc, Kota dribbled calmly while his four temporary teammates cut back and forth in the low post.
Across from him, standing like a wall, was Wang. Wang crouched low, arms stretched wide, trying to block Kota's vision.
But it was useless.
No matter how strong the defense, there's always a crack. And against someone like Kota, even the smallest gap was enough for him to tear the whole defense open.
A quick bounce pass to a teammate flashing high post, then Kota sprinted into the lane. Using his teammate as a pivot, he slipped inside. The defense collapsed to cover him, but Kota spun and delivered a behind-the-back pass.
His teammate caught it wide open and laid it off the glass.
"Nice one!"
Grinning, Kota high-fived him on the way back.
"Damn it! Why's this guy such a pain?!"
Frustration boiled on the other side. They had defended hard, rotated well, and barely left any holes. But somehow that kid from Japan always sniffed them out.
Wang clenched his fist. He had expected Kota to be deadly one-on-one. But to control an entire offense like this? That was another level.
And the scary part? He wasn't even using that power yet. With just his passing and playmaking, Kota was already tearing them apart.
Inside, another teammate — Gao, the big man over 2 meters tall—noticed Wang's frustration. He lumbered over and gave him a heavy slap on the back.
"Whoa! Gao, what the heck?!"
Startled, Wang turned around, neck craned high to meet Gao's gaze. Staring up at a 2.10m giant wasn't exactly comforting.
"Uh…"
Gao scratched his head, at a loss for words. He just sensed Wang was in a bad mood, but putting that into words? Not his strength.
"…Yeah, I get it. Thanks, Gao."
Wang exhaled and rubbed his nose. He and Gao had played in the same youth club. They didn't need words to understand each other.
You're saying I shouldn't stress. That freak's gonna be our teammate anyway…
He glanced at Kota jogging back, relaxed as ever.
But how could he not stress? It was the first time his defense felt so powerless against a single opponent.
This was Kota's third day in China—and his first full practice game with the U-19 squad.
Scoreboard: 72–64, Kota's team in the lead.
And on the sideline, the committee of coaches huddled together, talking excitedly. Ebi, arms folded, wore an almost grandfatherly smile.
Wang knew instantly. Kota wasn't just in—he might already be the frontrunner for starting point guard of the national team.
"I think we should build the future team around Kota! A talent like this… you only see once in decades."
"Agreed."
"Hold on. Let's not rush. Gao's strength is impressive too—we could try a dual-core system. Inside and outside, one-two punch."
...
The buzz from the stands grew louder and louder, and even the players on the court started to feel its weight.
Gao glanced at his teammates, who stood with their hands on their hips, already looking like they had accepted defeat. Their movements had slowed, their energy drained.
Even for someone as carefree as him, something felt off.
At this rate… we're gonna lose.
"Don't give up!"
On the next possession, instead of diving straight into the paint, Xiao Gao stayed up high and cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting at the top of his lungs.
"Don't give up! Don't give up! We can do this! We can win!"
With his naturally booming voice, his words echoed through the gym like a war cry. Before anyone had time to react, Gao charged into the paint again. Backing down Kota's team's center, he spun his massive frame, sealed him off, and threw his arm out, calling for the ball.
At 2.10 meters tall with surprisingly soft touch around the rim, he was basically unstoppable. Even Kota had no way of dealing with him on defense—they weren't even in the same position, after all. No matter what textbook tricks you tried, "Big Man Bully" or "Weakest Link" none of it worked against Gao.
Kota could only watch as the giant tore through his defense again, scoring with ease.
Despite Kota's orchestrating, despite their sharp offense, they just couldn't pull away on the scoreboard. And the reason had a name — Gao.
What's it like when a 2-meter-tall big man casually drops fadeaways in your face like it's nothing?Simple. You don't stop it. You can't stop it.
After Gao scored again, cutting the lead to two, Kota walked to the baseline to inbound and felt the shift immediately.
On the last possession, only Gao and Wang were moving with intensity—the rest of their team had been sluggish, practically giving up. But now… their energy had flipped.
Kota thought the scrimmage was already decided. Looks like it's only just beginning.
"Lock them down!"
Wang slapped the floor hard, glaring at Kota with fierce determination.
"Yeah!!"
The whole defense suddenly came alive, their rotations sharper, their energy renewed.
Kota raised an eyebrow, sneaking a glance at Xiao Gao, who was still bullying his center down low.
"Wait, that big guy's pep talk actually worked? Don't tell me you're the motivational-speech type too…"
He muttered a complaint in his head, but his hands moved fast, whipping the ball to a teammate who had just shaken free in the corner.
Listless opponents weren't any fun anyway.
Skill decides execution, but attitude decides fighting spirit. And this sudden spark of energy lit something in Kota too, quickening even his passes.
Unfortunately, there was one thing he overlooked—his teammates weren't exactly on his level.
The crisp skip-pass cut straight through the defense, perfectly placed… but it was too sharp. Hard to steal, yes. But also hard to catch.
BEEP!
The whistle blew. The ball slipped right through his teammate's fingertips and bounced out of bounds.
"Sorry, sorry—that's on me."
Kota raised his hand immediately, owning the mistake. From his angle it had been a perfect dime, but not factoring in his teammate's ability was a clear error. Even if they were just temporary teammates, that responsibility fell on him as the point guard.
The crowd in the gym exchanged approving looks.
Owning mistakes, even when they weren't solely his—that was the sign of a true leader.
Coach Hai Lao tugged at the corner of his mouth, hiding a smile before turning to his assistant coaches.
"By tomorrow evening, I want five full sets of plays designed around that kid."
The assistants' eyes widened.
That was the kind of treatment you gave a franchise cornerstone. Before he'd even officially joined the team, Kota was already being given his own playbook. A first in national youth basketball history.
Up in the stands, Reiko, who had been eavesdropping the whole time, beamed. With Ebi already sold, Kota's spot on the youth team was practically guaranteed. And from the look of things, the national team wasn't far off either.
"First scouting trip and I already struck gold! Yes!!"
She pumped her fist in victory, already daydreaming.
"If I can steal one of the Generation of Miracles next… heh. That'd be insane."
Back on the court, the scrimmage grew more intense.
Kota's offense ran smoothly, their scoring efficiency staying high. But there was one problem—he was a pass-first point guard, and Ebi had intentionally surrounded him with slightly weaker players to test him.
That meant, ironically, Kota's own shots were more reliable than his teammates'.
And as the other team's momentum surged, the lead slowly evaporated until the score was tied.
81–81. Final 20 seconds. Kota's squad on defense.
Dribbling at the top of the arc, Wang adjusted his rhythm. Kota licked his lips, eyes narrowing. If he entered the Zone right now, he could probably strip him clean and end the game on the spot.
If this had been an official match, no question—he would've gone all in, secured the win himself, and closed it out.
But this was just a scrimmage. Winning was great, but Kota decided something else mattered more.
"This time… the last shot belongs to my teammates. Sometimes it's fine to play the supporting role."
As the clock ticked into the final ten seconds, Kota suddenly pressed up, forcing Wang to make a quick pass.
Flustered under the pressure, Wang nearly lost the ball but managed to dump it inside to Gao at a bad angle.
Kota didn't panic. He had done his job—forcing a tough pass was exactly what a floor general should do in crunch time.
His teammates rotated immediately, collapsing on Gao in the paint, trapping him between two defenders.
But even surrounded, the giant calmly rose up, extended his massive right arm, and released a skyhook.
The crowd rose to their feet — Reiko, Ebi, the coaches— all watching the ball's arc in tense silence.
Gao stumbled on the landing, steadying himself, his eyes locked on the spinning ball.
Everyone in the gym held their breath, waiting for the result.
Everyone… except Kota.
He just scratched his cheek with a small grin.