It was about two or three years ago when it all began—my first day attending Musashi Junior and Senior High School.
At that time, I wasn't particularly good at basketball, but I understood the basics. I had a decent eye for the game, even from the start.
The players moved across the polished wooden court. Their shoes pressed and slid with quick, sharp squeaks that echoed against the walls. Each step sent a faint tremor through the floor, blending with the steady thump of basketballs.
The air carried the faint scent of sweat and varnish, dry and heavy beneath the white glare of the ceiling lights.
"Don't get lazy, everyone! Keep the line—lower your center of gravity!"
Coach Izanagi's voice rang sharply across the court, the echo snapping through the warm air. The players moved at once, shoes scraping harder against the floor, knees sinking lower, muscles tightening beneath their jerseys.
A chorus of voices rose in response.
"Yes, Coach!"
The sound hit the air at once, firm and unified.
Coach Izanagi's eyes settled on a single player, noting the break in formation during the defensive drill. His shoulders squared, and he stepped forward slightly, the quiet scrape of his shoes against the floor drawing the player's attention.
"Hidesuke! What are you doing? Get back in formation—I will not allow mistakes!"
Coach Izanagi's voice tightened, footsteps firm as he leaned slightly forward, shoulders rigid.
Hidesuke's shoulders stiffened. His eyes flicked away for a moment, then returned, sharp and unyielding.
"What do you mean I am breaking formation? I am following correctly!"
His voice rose slightly, chest pressing forward, fists tightening at his sides.
Coach Izanagi stepped closer, his face flushed from exertion, hands tightening at his sides.
"Are you the one watching from the sideline? Be quiet and follow my instructions!"
The words cut sharply through the gym, each syllable precise, measured, demanding attention.
Hidesuke's jaw tightened, muscles twitching along the line of his face.
"I am done. I've had enough of this crap."
He turned sharply, shoulders squared, footsteps echoing as he moved away.
The gym fell silent. Shoes scraped more slowly against the floor, basketballs bouncing less frequently. Everyone froze, breath caught.
Coach Izanagi ran a hand through his damp hair, stepping forward briskly.
"Stop right there, Hidesuke!"
His voice carried firmly, cutting through the quiet without raising in volume.
Hidesuke froze mid-step, shoulders stiff and tense. Slowly, he turned his head, jaw tight, eyes dark and stormy.
"What is it, old man?"
His voice carried sharp, edged with frustration. "What do you want from me this time?"
Coach Izanagi's stern expression eased for a moment. He let out a sharp breath through his nose, shoulders relaxing slightly.
"I am sorry for how I treated you earlier. It was harsh… but I must be stricter with you than anyone else. If I go easy, everyone will think you only made the team because you are my son."
Hidesuke's fists clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening.
"So… is that all? Just for show? So the others won't speak?"
His voice tightened, shoulders pressing forward slightly as he held the stance.
Coach Izanagi straightened his posture, shoulders steady.
"No. It is not only for them. You have earned your place—you are a starter, without question. But you must prove it. Every single day. So that no one doubts it… and so that you do not either."
A long silence stretched between them, the only sound the faint creak of the bleachers settling and the distant bounce of a basketball from another court.
Coach Izanagi's shoulders relaxed slightly, voice quieter, measured.
"Just… do not walk out like that again. Next time… there may be no way back."
Hidesuke's eyes stayed on the floor, sweat tracing down his temple. He paused, fists unclenching slightly, then nodded.
"…Fine."
His voice was low, steady, carrying a hint of resignation.
Coach Izanagi gave a single nod, then turned and stepped back toward the court, shoes scraping lightly against the floor.
"Come on. Let's return to practice."
Hidesuke's mouth twitched into a small smirk, shoulders relaxing just slightly.
"Fine. You win this time, Coach."
His voice was calm, edged with a quiet challenge.
As they moved back, Daichi passed the basketball to Basara, who caught it cleanly. The ball pressed against his palm, fingers spreading over the textured surface as he dribbled forward. He stepped hard off his right foot, pushing off the court, and launched a layup. The ball struck the backboard with a solid thud before swishing through the net.
Immediately, the ball was passed to Takumi. Takumi caught it at the three-point line, knees bending as he prepared to jump. The gym filled with the sharp sound of his sneakers scraping the court as he pushed upward, extending toward the rim. The ball left his hand with a firm, clean force and slammed through the hoop with a satisfying dunk.
Daichi's eyes widened as the ball bounced between players.
"Is he really a junior high student?"
His voice carried a note of disbelief, shoulders tensing slightly as he watched.
Basara watched Takumi step back, chest rising and falling with each breath from the effort.
I am glad he transferred here. He is truly a prodigy, and only in his second year, Basara thought quietly to himself, fingers pressing the ball as he dribbled steadily.
A group of boys stepped into the gym. Some fidgeted nervously, others glanced around anxiously, but Makoto remained calm, studying the team with a measured gaze.
So, this is the great Musashi Junior High basketball team, rumored to be the best defensively and ranked among the top seven, he thought quietly, eyes tracking each player's movements.
Basara glanced toward the gym doors as more players trickled in.
Looks like the first years are here. Perfect timing.
His gaze followed the newcomers, fingers tightening slightly around the ball.
Daichi's voice carried over the court noise, clear and steady.
"Coach Izanagi, Hidesuke, the first years are all ready and prepared."
Coach Izanagi wiped sweat from his brow and gave a small nod.
"That is good. I expected a few more, but ten will suffice."
The new players lined up along the sideline, standing stiffly, shifting weight slightly as nerves showed in their posture.
Coach Izanagi's gaze swept over the line of students, posture straight, hands resting lightly at his sides.
"Everyone, line up and introduce yourself, give your measurements, and tell me if you have experience with basketball."
One by one, they stepped forward.
"My name is Yasuhiro Nakano. I am one hundred seventy-five centimeters and weigh one hundred fifty-eight pounds. I have no experience, but I am willing and eager to learn."
Yasuhiro's voice was steady, careful, fingers curling slightly around the edges of his shorts as he spoke.
"My name is Ko Yamazaki. I am one hundred seventy centimeters and weigh one hundred fifty pounds. I have played a little basketball with older friends, so I understand the basics."
Ko shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hands brushing lightly against his sides.
One by one, the other new first years introduced themselves, until it was Makoto's turn to step forward.
"Makoto Kurai. I am one hundred sixty-two centimeters and weigh one hundred forty pounds. All my experience comes from streetball and a few people who taught me. I am not here for games. I want to win and be recognized. I will not let anyone hold me back, especially my seniors."
Makoto's voice was firm, eyes sharp, shoulders squared as he stood straight before the team.
Basara's eyes flicked toward Makoto, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, fingers dribbling the ball almost absentmindedly.
So confident, huh? Let's see if he can back it up.
Hidesuke shifted his weight slightly, jaw tightening as he studied Makoto, arms crossed loosely.
He talks big… we'll see how long that lasts.
Coach Izanagi's gaze swept over Makoto, shoulders relaxed but posture firm.
"You sound confident. You will have time to prove yourself. And the last one?"
The final boy stepped forward, shoulders hunched, eyes mostly hidden behind his bangs. His hands twisted at his sides, fingers brushing against each other.
"U… um, m… my na… name is Shino Kat… Katsuragi. I am one hundred sixty-seven centimeters and weigh one hundred forty-four pounds. I have no experience, but I want to learn. I think it is… interesting."
His voice trembled slightly, barely rising above the ambient noise, and he kept his gaze lowered, glancing only briefly at the coach.
Basara shook his head slightly, letting out a quiet, almost amused chuckle.
Is this some kind of joke? Look at him. He is so timid and shy. He has no chance of succeeding in this sport.
His voice carried just enough for the nearby players to hear, fingers tightening slightly around the basketball.
Hidesuke stepped forward, shoulders squared, fists loosening slightly at his sides.
"Do yourself a favor and give up on this sport. Go join another that suits you better. Tennis, perhaps."
Shino swallowed hard, shoulders tensing as he clenched his fists. His voice trembled slightly, yet he kept his gaze forward.
"No! I want to play this sport. I will practice hard and train until I am good enough.
Please… help me learn."
He bowed slightly, head low, bangs brushing his eyes.
Coach Izanagi rubbed the back of his neck, eyes cold, shoulders tense.
"Listen, kid. I have no time for those who are weak. I train strong-minded players to compete, not a shy boy. It is the harsh reality of the sports world—some are simply not cut out for this game.
The door is there. You may leave."
Makoto watched carefully, face calm, shoulders relaxed but alert.
This coach is truly as harsh as they come. Just listen to him and leave.
Shino's shoulders squared, trembling slightly as tears slid down his cheeks.
"I will not leave. I love basketball too much to give up on my dreams. I will train hard, and one day I will become a good player."
His voice shook, but he kept his gaze forward, fists tightening at his sides.
Coach Izanagi pointed toward the others, eyes sharp.
"Suit yourself, but do not come to me complaining when you do not get any playtime for the remaining three years here.
Basara, Daichi, teach these eight players how to dribble and let them all try."
Coach Izanagi's gaze shifted toward Shino.
"Well… seven of them. You may just give this one a ball and place him in the corner. I have no time to waste on him."
Hidesuke and Takumi stepped forward, shoulders squared, eyes fixed on the first-years. Their fingers flexed slightly around the basketball, ready for action.
"You will play two-on-two against Makoto and Ko."
Ko's hands twisted nervously at his sides, weight shifting from one foot to the other. His eyes flicked to Makoto, then back down at the floor, jaw tightening.
"But… that is unfair! They are much stronger than us."
Coach Izanagi stepped closer, rubbing the back of his neck briefly, eyes sharp as they pinned Ko in place.
"I decide what is fair.
Coach Izanagi's eyes locked on Makoto, narrowing slightly.
Besides, Makoto here is overconfident. Let us see if he can back his words."
Hidesuke shook his head slightly, shoulders relaxing just a fraction, lips moving as he muttered under his breath.
I do not understand what the old man wishes to prove by having us play against these children.
Takumi cracked his neck, expression unreadable, eyes scanning the court coolly.
Well… this is troublesome. More insects to squash. I will mark Ko.
The court was quiet except for the sharp echo of shoes against the polished floor and the faint, rhythmic bounce of the basketball.
Coach Izanagi stepped forward slightly, posture firm, eyes sweeping the group.
"The game is to seven. Begin when you are ready."
Hidesuke dribbled the ball once, then rolled it to Makoto with a small, confident grin.
"Since you are first-years, I will let you start with the ball. I am generous, don't you think?"