Ren turned his back on the court, the image of Shota Igarashi's accidental, clumsy dunk still burning in his mind. The cacophony of the "game"—the squeaks, the grunts, Yosuke's shrieking laughter—felt like a physical weight.
"I'm going home," he said, his voice flat.
Yosuke, who was in the middle of a wheezing gasp, looked up in betrayal. "What? Already? Ren-kun, no! The best part is about to start! I think Ryota is going to try and dribble between his own legs! I think Osamu is actually crying! You can't leave!"
"I'll walk with you, Ishikawa-san," Kenji said, adjusting his bag. His face was pale, his normal, analytical calm visibly shaken. "I have... had enough."
Ren nodded. The two of them walked out of the balcony, leaving Yosuke behind to cackle at the beautiful disaster. As they walked down the concrete steps, a final, guttural roar of pure, animalistic frustration echoed from the gym floor.
"ARGGGHHHHHH!"
It sounded like Coach Evans had finally broken.
On the sideline, Jin Tanaka was holding his head in his hands, his entire body slumped in defeat.
The noise faded as they walked out of the school building, replaced by the quiet of the late afternoon. The air felt cleaner out here. They walked in silence for a full minute, just the sound of their footsteps on the pavement.
It was Kenji who finally broke the silence.
"So," he said, adjusting his glasses. "Hanamura is... a lot. But he's not wrong. That team is a complete mess."
"Yeah," Ren said. It was the only word that fit.
"It's strange," Kenji continued, looking up at the trees lining the street. "The girls' team is so professional. Coach Honda runs a tight ship, and their captain, Asuka-senpai, is all-business. And... Hayakawa-san. She was remarkable."
He glanced at Ren. "And then there's the boys' team. It's... that."
"I... I don't get it," Kenji mused, more to himself than to Ren. "It's not like there's no talent. That kid, Riku Nakamura... his form was clean. Good fundamentals. And Daiki Arai, Kaito's friend, he's strong. If he could learn to control that power, he'd be a problem."
He shook his head. "And Kaito himself. He's a mess, but he's so fast. I guess that's something."
Ren just walked, his hands in his pockets. He listened to Kenji's surface-level analysis. He's right. But he's also wrong.
His "Eagle Vision" replayed the scene in his mind, not as chaos, but as data.
Kenji sees 'fast.' I see 'wrong.'
Kaito's planting with his heel, not the ball of his foot. He's leaning his shoulders before his feet are set. He's wasting 50% of his energy just fighting his own momentum. He could be twice as fast, and he could actually stop, if someone just fixed his first step.
Daiki is strong, but his power is useless. He has no footwork. He's just a bull. A single good defender would just take the charge and foul him out in five minutes.
Riku is... good. He's the only one who knows how to play. But he's surrounded by...
That.
"It's just chaos," Ren said, his first real contribution to the analysis.
"Exactly," Kenji said, relieved. "It's a team with no brain. It's... strange. Our school's basketball legacy is supposed to be a big deal, but it looks like a total joke." He paused, then gave Ren a curious look. "You're not joining any clubs, then? I'm definitely sticking with the literature society. It's quiet."
Ren looked straight ahead. The decision, which had been a vague intention all day, now felt like solid, settled fact.
"No," Ren said. "I'm not."
"Figured," Kenji said. "Well, this is my street."
They parted ways with a simple nod. "See you tomorrow, Ishikawa-san."
"Yeah. See you."
Ren continued his walk alone. The streets of his new neighborhood were quiet, the houses set far back from the road, the gardens all perfectly manicured. The order of it all felt like a deep, relaxing breath.
He hated that gym. He hated that feeling.
It was too familiar.
It was a flash of memory: his old team. The noise. The yelling. Everyone wanting to be the hero, no one wanting to play their part. The "genius" who just wanted to dunk. The "captain" who just wanted to yell. The betrayal wasn't one moment; it was a thousand tiny moments of chaos, jealousy, and stupidity that finally piled up and broke everything.
That "game" he just watched wasn't a tryout. It was an omen. It was his past, waiting to happen all over again.
He reached the imposing wooden gate of the Ishikawa estate. He paused, his hand on the latch.
He thought about his first day.
Yosuke's dumb, non-stop chatter. Kenji's quiet smarts. He'd gone to the roof looking for solitude and had found... a pack. A weird, three-person pack.
It was... surprisingly nice.
He felt calm. He could do this. He could have a normal, quiet high school life here. He could go to class, hang out with Yosuke and Kenji, go home, and be... fine.
Then, one last image from the day floated up.
A fluid crossover. A perfect pass-fake. A silent, clean jump shot.
At least someone here knows how to play.
He thought of Misaki Hayakawa. In that entire school, through all the noise and chaos, he had seen exactly one person who was in complete control. One person who played with their brain and their body.
She was the exception. A single point of light in the mess.
He respected that.
It didn't change anything, though.
Ren pushed the gate open and walked inside, the heavy wood thudding shut behind him.
His decision was 100% made.
He was staying as far away from that gym, and that team, as humanly possible.