The final bell faded through the halls of Toshigawa Academy.
From the gym, the sharp squeak of shoes carried through the still air. The ball struck the polished floor again and again, each bounce steady against the sound of rubber soles sliding.
Hayato dribbled the basketball low, his knees bent and shoulders squared as he moved around the cone standing like a defender.
Takahiro waited on the left side of the key, his stance firm as he set the screen. The dull thud of contact echoed through the gym when Tetsuo slipped past, his feet striking the floor with quick, even rhythm.
Meanwhile, Liam pushed off from the baseline, the faint squeal of his sneakers tracing his step as he set another screen for Tetsuo. Yukio moved through the key at the same moment, their paths crossing with quiet, practiced timing.
Tetsuo curved along the arc, reaching the three-point line just as Hayato passed the ball off the dribble. He caught it cleanly, shifted his stance, and adjusted his grip, shoulders steady as he rose into his jump.
At the height of it, his wrist flicked forward, arm extending fully in follow-through before he came down on his toes. The ball traced through the air and dropped straight through the net, the soft swish echoing across the gym.
"Alright, good work, everyone. We will run that play one more time. This time, Liam will be the one to score," Nanaho called out, her voice carrying through the gym as she held the clipboard at her side and cupped her hand to her mouth.
"Yes," everyone answered in unison and moved back into position, the sound of shoes brushing lightly against the floor as they took their places once more.
Sweat glistened on Liam's arms as he took his position again, giving a short nod.
This time, Yukio planted his feet firmly, setting a strong screen on Tetsuo's defender and opening the lane. Liam slipped behind Hayato, who drove toward the basket and released a high bounce pass.
Liam caught it in motion and rose high, his muscles tightening as he slammed the ball into the rim. The net snapped sharply, and the backboard trembled with a deep, echoing sound that filled the gym.
"Good work. We will run that play one more time. This time, Yukio will be the one to score," Nanaho's voice carried evenly across the court as she adjusted her stance, eyes following the players with quiet focus.
On the far side of the court, Shino practiced alone, the steady sound of the ball echoing against the wooden floor. Sweat gathered along his temple as he dribbled, eyes following the movement of the ball.
Training has been going well lately… Our first match is coming soon.
His fingers tightened slightly on the ball. Just thinking about it… makes my chest feel strange.
He exhaled softly and pushed forward, the sound of his breath mixing with the faint squeak of his shoes.
This one will make one hundred… left-hand layups, he told himself, steadying his pace.
He took two measured steps, adjusted his angle, and guided the ball against the backboard. It dropped through the hoop with a light swish.
He stopped at the baseline, sweat falling in small drops from his chin.
Finally finished… he thought, catching his breath. Next is one hundred and fifty dribbles with my left hand… and three hundred with my right.
He straightened his back, adjusted his grip on the ball, and stepped forward again. The rhythmic sound of dribbling soon filled the space, steady and patient.
Outside on the track, Noboru ran in long strides beside the girls' middle-distance team. His breathing came steady but tight, the dry air catching faintly in his throat each time he drew it in.
Ever since that foreigner, Liam, joined the team, I have not been able to practice with them at all.
The thought came with a tight pull in Noboru's chest. So that means I am not one of the starting members, huh…
His brows knit together, breath coming sharp through his nose. Tch… how annoying.
He leaned forward and picked up his pace, arms driving in rhythm with his strides, the sound of his shoes hitting the track in steady force.
"Wow, Noboru has already gotten used to training with the girls who run the eight-hundred meters. He really is something, isn't he?" One of the female sprinters shaded her eyes with her hand, watching him as he came around the bend.
"Yeah, he is really serious about his training." Another girl crossed her arms lightly, a small nod following her words.
"If anything, he is just thick-headed and stubborn. Do not let him fool you." Naomi bent forward to stretch her legs, the corner of her mouth turning slightly.
"Well… maybe you are right…" The first girl let out a small breath, her gaze following Noboru as he ran along the track.
"I heard that Liam has quit the track team." A girl at the edge of the field leaned into her stretch, her voice carrying lightly between breaths.
"For real? That is surprising. He was more serious about training than anyone else." Another girl straightened, eyes widening a little.
"Yes. Now he is playing on the basketball team." A third girl brushed her hair behind her ear as she spoke, her tone matter-of-fact.
"Well, I think basketball suits him. He is tall and has good jumping ability. He will probably make more of an impact there than in running." Naomi spoke in a calm tone, rolling her shoulders as she straightened from her stretch.
"That is true. I hope he does well in that sport." Another girl reached for her water bottle, her tone light but sincere.
"Yes, but I will miss him. He always made training feel less stressful… and he could always make me laugh." One of the girls smiled faintly, her voice carrying a trace of warmth.
"What is this? Do not tell me you like him." Laughter rose from another girl nearby, her tone teasing.
"As if." The first girl looked away quickly, the color rising in her cheeks as the others laughed together.
Elsewhere, in a classroom dim with the fading light, Makoto lifted his head from the desk, his eyes blinking slowly back into focus.
The late afternoon sun slipped through the windows, stretching long shadows across the floor. A faint breeze passed through, rustling the papers resting on the sill.
Makoto yawned and stretched, his hands rubbing at his eyes as he blinked toward the window.
Am I still at school? I did not even notice… The thought came sluggishly, his voice barely above a whisper. Still, that nap felt good.
He stood up slowly, gathering his things with unhurried movements, the faint creak of his chair echoing in the quiet room.
As he stepped into the hallway, Makoto stopped short, almost bumping into Hayami-sensei. She drew back slightly, the faint scent of chalk and perfume lingering as her hand brushed against the papers she held.
"Oh, Makoto. What are you still doing at school at this hour?" Hayami-sensei tilted her head slightly, a small sigh leaving her lips. "Perfect timing. Please take these papers to the president of the literature club for me. After that, you may go wherever you like." She handed him the stack without slowing her pace, her steps continuing down the corridor.
"Really? Why me of all people?" Makoto's tone came out slow and tired, his shoulders slouching a little as he looked at the papers in his hand.
"Just be quiet and do as I say." Hayami-sensei's voice cooled as she slowed her steps and looked back, her sharp glance catching him for a moment before she turned away and continued down the hall.
What a pain… That teacher really gets on my nerves, Makoto muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair with a lazy scowl.
The papers hung loosely in his grip as he started down the hall toward the Literature Club room.
"Here. Hayami-sensei told me to bring these." Makoto set the papers down on the Literature Club's desk, his tone flat and unhurried.
No reply came.
How rude… not even a glance or a word. He let out a quiet breath. Well, not like I care anyway.
He turned and closed the door behind him with a soft click.
At the desk, the girl who had been reading lifted her head slightly. Her eyes, calm and distant, shifted toward the papers for a moment before she lowered them again and returned to her book.
I need to grab my bag and get out of here before she comes back, Makoto muttered, his pace quickening down the empty hallway.
As he turned the corner, he almost ran into a girl stepping through the doorway.
"Wait, you are Makoto Kurai, right?" Sachiko adjusted the strap of her bag, her tone brisk but polite.
"Yes, I am."
"Good. I need a favor. I was on cleaning duty today, but I have a student council meeting I must attend. Can you take my place for today? When it is your turn, I will switch with you." Sachiko's words came out neatly, her expression calm but expectant.
Makoto let out a long sigh. "Yeah, sure. It's not like I have anything better to do." His voice came out dry as he glanced aside, his eyes half-lidded as he spoke.
"Thank you. I really appreciate it. Also, please make sure to empty that bin." Sachiko gave a quick smile, then turned and walked briskly down the corridor, her bag swaying lightly at her side.
What a pain… Next time, I'll make sure to stay awake during the last period, Makoto thought, dragging the broom lightly across the floor. The faint rustle of the plastic liner followed as he emptied the bin.
That's the last of it. Alright… time to go home.
He slung his bag over one shoulder and stepped through the front gate, the evening air brushing cool against his face.
The sun hung low, its light stretching long shadows across the pavement.
As Makoto turned the corner just beyond the gate, his shoulder brushed sharply against someone passing by.
He stumbled back a step, the impact jolting through his shoulder.
"Watch where you're going, punk."
The voice stopped him cold.
Makoto looked up. A tall figure stood before him, arms folded, half of his face caught in the fading sunlight. Two others lingered just behind, their gazes fixed sharply on him.
"Well, well… look who we have here. I never thought I would see your face again, Makoto Kurai." The first one's mouth curved into a smirk, the tone low and taunting.
"Wait, you're right… it really is him," another muttered, surprise flickering across his face as he leaned forward slightly.
Makoto's stomach sank, a cold weight settling in his gut. His hand tightened around the strap of his bag.
Daichi. Hidesuke. Basara.
His breath hitched for a moment, the beat of his heart growing louder in his chest. The noise of the street—cars passing, birds overhead—blurred into silence.
These guys are… my teammates from junior high.
He stood rooted in place, eyes narrowing slightly, shoulders stiffening without him realizing.