The gym was so quiet it felt lifeless.
Kasugano Souta's words had hit like a full-range AOE attack—everyone was stunned into silence.
Ota's face went from pale to white, then flushed red, every muscle in his jaw twitching.
This damn pressure freak had just torn him down like he was worthless. And to think he'd just been praising Souta as the team's hope...
But still—
"Why does what he said make so much sense?"
"Wait... am I actually useless?"
Ota started doubting his entire existence.
Souta, meanwhile, seized the moment. He raised a hand dramatically, Whitebeard-style, and said, "Come play ball, Ota!"
I—
Damn it!
In the end, Ota stayed for extra practice. His girlfriend? Forgotten.
Well, maybe not exactly "forgotten." After hearing Souta's entire "closing argument," even she couldn't bring herself to drag Ota away for a date.
Instead, she forced a smile and told him to do his best before heading home.
By the next day, a rumor had already spread through Hozumi Academy's basketball club—
That a "pressure monster" had been born.
———
"If you play that bad, what gives you the right not to work harder?"
"And you still have time for dates? How can someone like that say basketball is their dream?"
Even after getting home, Souta was still fuming.
If it weren't for his family being too poor to transfer schools—and honestly, since every middle school looked the same to Teiko anyway—he would've taken his talents elsewhere long ago.
His sister, Sora, knew his personality too well. She wasn't upset on his behalf; instead, she pitied the rest of the basketball team.
Kasugano Haruka, lounging nearby, tried to calm him down. "You take things too seriously, Souta. It's okay to relax once in a while."
He spoke in the tone of an older brother trying to sound mature, but Souta wasn't having it.
"And that's exactly why you've achieved nothing," Souta shot back coldly. "You tell yourself it's just once. Then you relax again. And again. Until one day, you realize you can't even focus anymore."
"I..."
Haruka almost broke down.
It was true.
In this household, both Souta and Sora were geniuses.
Souta had led Hozumi Academy's basketball team to their first-ever national tournament last year—he was basically a school legend.
And Sora? A total straight-A student. Even when she skipped classes, she'd still ace every test with perfect scores.
Only Haruka...
He wasn't bad, exactly. Somewhere between them. Good grades, decent athletics. But not a genius in anything.
Average. Painfully average.
"Souta, don't talk about Haru like that!" Sora protested. "If it weren't for him, who'd take care of the housework?"
So that's all I'm good for... house chores?
The flicker of hope that had just risen in Haruka's chest instantly died.
Having siblings this exceptional was pure suffering.
Still, he couldn't stay mad at them. No matter how harsh they were, he always forgave them in the end.
"Tch. If you're mad, then say it," Souta grumbled. "Stop acting like the big brother all the time. Sora's one thing, but don't treat me like a kid."
"Idiot Souta, what did you just say!"
Sora hurled a stuffed rabbit at him, which Souta swatted away effortlessly.
She scrambled to grab it back, then chased after him, swinging it again.
"I can't even get angry at you two," Haruka said softly, smiling as he watched them bicker.
That was how main characters used to be back in the 2000s—gentle, patient, painfully kind.
After a while, Souta grabbed his old basketball and headed out.
Sora immediately ran up. "I'll go with you!"
"Next time," he said. "There are a lot of mosquitoes outside. Just wait for me at home."
Before she could argue, he closed the door behind him.
———
It was the same old court.
Ever since he'd moved to Okukozome, he'd been practicing there every day—until his "retirement" last year.
No one knew how long he'd been there this time. Sweat soaked through his shirt; it clung to his back.
Then—
A girl's scream pierced the air. "Let go of me! I'll scream for help!"
"Scream? Go ahead. The louder you scream, the more turned on I get."
Three punks with traffic-light-colored hair laughed nastily, closing in on Sora.
Sora's fear turned to fury. "Souta!!!"
"No need to yell. I saw."
"Idiot! I told you to stay home, didn't I? You're supposed to be a shut-in!"
Souta was already there.
He sighed. He'd told her no—but just like in the simulation, the same thing still happened.
Once she saw him, Sora's fear disappeared.
And Souta? He clenched his fist and went straight for the "traffic lights."
About twenty minutes later—
Souta was walking home with Sora on his back, her ankle twisted.
"Souta..."
"You don't need to apologize. You didn't cause trouble for me. I've fought worse than those three."
Half his face was swollen, but his tone was as cocky as ever.
"What about you? Didn't I tell you to stay home? Why'd you sneak out?"
"You wouldn't let me come, so I followed you in secret."
"That's your takeaway?"
"What else?"
Sora said it so righteously it almost made him laugh.
If you let her follow, she was happy. If you didn't, she'd still tag along.
There was no winning.
"This stubborn brat," Souta muttered under his breath. "I told you there were mosquitoes outside. Why'd you come anyway?"
"Because I haven't seen you play in forever."
"That's it?"
"Yup, that's it!"
"Are you stupid?"
"Sora's not stupid! You're stupid! I get perfect scores, and you get zeros!"
"You're just a shut-in..."
Arguing and laughing, they walked the rest of the way home together.
———
The next day.
Souta resumed his daily "motivational pressure" on the team.
The atmosphere in Hozumi's basketball club instantly regressed by a year.
Coach Oten looked at the players—most of them too scared to talk back—and couldn't help sighing.
"Young people really are great. Damn great."
It was tough, sure, but Souta's "supervision" worked wonders.
Under relentless training, the team's new tactics quickly solidified.
As Nationals approached, Coach Oten arranged two warm-up matches.
Hozumi Academy crushed both opponents, winning by an average of over twenty points each game.
This time, not a single teammate complained.
They could all see it—the team was way stronger than last year.
Some even started smiling at Souta, the walking embodiment of pressure.
"How strange," Souta muttered. "These idiots can still smile?"
"Guess the training's not hard enough."
He frowned and turned toward Sakurai Ryo. "Hey, Mushroom Head. A hundred fifty three-pointers sound good to you?"
"Wha—?!" Ryo froze on the spot.
Souta's "hundred fifty" didn't mean just attempts. Only the made shots counted.
"I... I got it!"