CROSS ZERO
Chapter 3: No Rules, No Mercy
The doors slammed shut behind them.
Akira stood in a long, sterile hallway that stretched into the distance, lined with identical metal doors. A robotic voice echoed from hidden speakers overhead:
"Candidate scan initiated."
A beam of blue light swept over Akira's body from head to toe. His heart pounded as the voice continued:
"Akira Tenma. Registered. Candidate Number: 79. Proceed to Room 13."
Akira exhaled shakily and followed the glowing arrows on the floor.
Number 79.
Out of 300.
He didn't know if that was good or bad.
Room 13
The door slid open with a soft hiss.
Akira stepped inside and froze.
The room was massive—part living quarters, part locker room, with sleek metal walls, six beds arranged along the sides, and a large open space in the center. And standing in that space were four people.
Akira's eyes flicked over them quickly, taking in details:
Taiga Kiru — tall, broad-shouldered, with spiky black hair and an intense, almost heroic presence. He stood with his arms crossed, radiating quiet confidence.
Mitsuki Kisaragi — lean, calm, with long blue hair that fell just past his shoulders. He leaned against the wall, expression unreadable, like someone who'd already seen too much.
Kaoru Unoshi — shorter, wiry, with wild yellow hair that looked like it had never seen a comb. He was bouncing around the room, dribbling an imaginary basketball with exaggerated movements.
Suno Kisibe — average height, sharp eyes, neat black hair, and a smug smile that suggested he thought very highly of himself.
Akira cleared his throat. "Um… hello. I'm Akira Tenma."
Kaoru didn't stop moving. He spun, faked left, then mimed a shot.
"BANG! BANG!" he shouted, grinning wildly. "I'm Number 1, baby!"
Taiga turned his head slowly, expression flat. "Idiot. Could you shut up?"
Kaoru didn't even look at him. "LA LA LA LA LA—NEVERRRR!"
Akira blinked.
These people… aren't serious.
Suno stepped forward, hands in his pockets, wearing a grin that was somehow both charming and punchable.
"Hello, newbie," he said smoothly. "Welcome to Room 13. Let me introduce the crew. We've got Brute Guy"—he gestured at Taiga—"Annoying Guy I Wanna Smack So Much"—he pointed at Kaoru—"Silent Guy Who Looks Sad"—he nodded toward Mitsuki—"and The Good Guy Who Is Handsome, Charming, Smart, Logical… Guy." He tapped his own chest. "Me."
Taiga and Kaoru both turned to glare at him.
"You do know you aren't all that, right?" Taiga said flatly.
Kaoru nodded. "Yeah, bro. You're like… mid at best."
Suno's smile didn't falter. "Lies and slander."
Akira couldn't help it—he chuckled.
"I'm just the regular guy," he said. "Akira Tenma."
Before anyone could respond, the door slid open again with a loud WHOOSH.
And in walked Zeke Arakawa.
Zeke's Entrance
Zeke was everything Akira wasn't.
Tall, athletic, with an easy smile and a presence that filled the room the moment he stepped inside. He had short, dark hair, sharp eyes, and the kind of confidence that came from knowing you were good.
"Yoooo!" Zeke said cheerfully, raising a hand. "Nice to meet you all! It's an honor!"
Taiga stepped forward and shook his hand firmly. "Same."
Akira stood at the back, frozen.
That's Zeke Arakawa.
Japan's up-and-coming jewel.
The guy who destroyed my team.
Zeke's eyes swept the room—and landed on Akira.
He tilted his head, squinting slightly.
"Wait," Zeke said slowly. "I've seen your face somewhere…"
Akira's stomach dropped.
Zeke's eyes widened. "Oh! You're that guy! The one who broke past the defense and took that three-pointer in the finals!"
Akira's jaw tightened.
"You're the guy that missed," Zeke said, grinning.
Akira forced a smile. "Yup. I'm… that… guy."
Zeke's expression shifted immediately. "Oh, wait—sorry, sorry! I didn't mean it like that!" He scratched the back of his head, looking genuinely embarrassed. "I think you're pretty cool, actually. You almost scored. If you'd made it, we would've lost."
"Yeah," Akira said quietly. "If I'd made it. But I missed."
An awkward silence hung in the air.
Kaoru appeared between them like a ghost, grinning. "Spicy… you two know each other, huh?"
Akira turned to him, irritated. "Don't you know it's rude to listen in on conversations?"
Kaoru raised his hands in mock surrender. "Sorry, sorry! I'm leaving!"
He took one step to the side.
And stayed there.
Akira sighed.
Before he could say anything else, the walls flickered.
A massive digital screen materialized in the center of the room, and on it appeared the smooth, expressionless mask of Vox.
Everyone fell silent.
Vox's Announcement
"Welcome," Vox said, voice calm and cold, "my potential gems… that are currently trash."
Kaoru snorted. Taiga's jaw tightened. Mitsuki didn't react.
"This is Cross Zero," Vox continued. "You will surpass your limits here. I will forge you into angels born from hell."
He paused.
"Now, here's the catch."
The screen shifted, displaying a list of rules in bold red text.
"Those eliminated from this project," Vox said, "will never be allowed to join Japan's National Basketball World Cup squad."
The room exploded.
"WHAT?!"
"We didn't sign up for this!"
"That's insane!"
Vox's voice cut through the noise like a blade. "You're in hell. Did you expect fairness?"
Akira felt his blood run cold.
Oh no.
"Not only that," Vox continued, "but to make despair truly sink in, every candidate in this program has accrued a debt."
The screen shifted again, displaying a number in massive red text:
¥500,000
"Materials in this project are expensive," Vox said. "The longer you stay, the more resources you consume—and the higher your debt climbs. If you are eliminated early, your debt is relatively small. But the farther you go…"
He leaned closer to the camera.
"The more crushing your fall will be."
Akira's hands were shaking.
This is bad.
This is really, really bad.
"So," Vox said, leaning back. "Let's begin."
The First Trial
The room shifted.
The walls retracted. The floor opened. And from the ground rose six basketball hoops, arranged in a wide circle around the room.
Five basketballs rolled out from hidden compartments, coming to a stop at the center.
Vox's voice echoed from the speakers.
"A simple task," he said. "You will each take a basketball and score. The order is determined by the order in which you entered this room. There are five basketballs. There are six of you."
Akira's heart sank.
"The first five to score will qualify," Vox continued. "The last one… will be eliminated."
Silence.
"It may sound unfair," Vox said, almost amused. "But if the person about to shoot misses, the others may rush in and steal the ball. Consider this a lesson: Be early. Be sharp. And never hesitate."
He paused.
"Oh, and one more thing."
The screen flickered.
"There are no rules."
The screen went dark.
The Order
Akira's mind raced.
I was the second-to-last to enter.
That means I'm fifth.
Zeke was last.
He glanced at Zeke, who stood frozen, eyes wide with panic.
He's the one who's going to get eliminated.
Taiga stepped forward first. He was calm, focused, radiating quiet confidence.
He picked up a basketball, walked to the hoop, and leapt.
The ball left his hands in a perfect arc.
SWISH.
Taiga landed, turned, and walked back without a word.
Kaoru grinned. "Bro probably had an edit playing in his head."
Kaoru grabbed the second ball and immediately started dribbling—unnecessarily flashy, spinning it between his legs, behind his back, laughing the whole time.
"Kaoru has the ball!" he narrated to himself. "Breaks one, two, three—"
He leapt, twisted mid-air, and fired.
SWISH.
"THAT'S A POINT! LET'S GOOOOO!"
Taiga groaned. "Idiot. Get over here."
Mitsuki was next.
He stepped forward slowly, almost reluctantly, his long blue hair swaying with each step. His expression was distant, like he was somewhere else entirely.
He picked up the ball.
Took a breath.
And shot.
SWISH.
He landed softly and walked back without a word.
Kaoru grinned. "My man don't miss."
Suno went fourth. Clean, efficient, no theatrics.
SWISH.
And then it was Akira's turn.
Akira's Shot
Akira stepped forward, heart pounding.
This is it.
I just need to make this shot.
Even if I get eliminated later, at least I'll qualify past the first round.
He picked up the ball. It felt heavier than it should.
He walked to the hoop, lined up his shot, and jumped.
The ball left his hands.
CLANG.
It hit the rim.
And bounced away.
"THERE'S MY SHOT!" Zeke shouted, sprinting forward.
Akira's instincts kicked in. He lunged, grabbed the rebound, and pulled it close.
"Yes!" he gasped. "Another shot!"
He turned and drove toward the hoop.
Zeke was right behind him, closing fast.
And then—
A voice.
Not Akira's.
But inside him.
"Would you truly be satisfied by winning with such a scrappy moment? Aim for more."
Akira's body slowed.
Just for a second.
But it was enough.
Zeke closed the gap, reached out, and intercepted the ball.
"It's my turn!" Zeke shouted, spinning and sprinting toward the opposite hoop.
Akira stood frozen.
Damn it.
I lost.
I had every chance, and I still couldn't make it count.
Mom… Dad… it looks like I'll be coming home a loser.
And then—
Something shifted.
Akira felt it in his chest—a flicker of heat, of light, of something.
A faint binary aura pulsed around him for just a moment, flickering like static.
His eyes snapped to Zeke.
To the way he moved.
To the rhythm of his dribble.
That spot.
Akira moved.
He sprinted forward, low to the ground, and slid—feet-first, like a baseball player stealing a base.
His foot connected with the ball mid-bounce.
THWACK.
The ball ricocheted away from Zeke, bouncing wildly across the court.
Akira scrambled to his feet, lunged, and grabbed it.
He and Zeke were neck-and-neck now, sprinting toward the hoop.
Zeke's eyes were wide with shock. "What—?! That should've been a foul!"
But no whistle came.
No rules.
Akira leapt.
Zeke leapt a split-second later, hand outstretched.
SMACK.
Zeke swatted the ball away mid-air.
Both of them crashed to the ground.
The ball bounced toward the center of the court.
And Kaoru caught it.
Kaoru's Decision
Kaoru stood there, spinning the ball on one finger, grinning like a maniac.
He pointed at Akira.
"I like you," he said. "There's something in you I like. My beast sees it. And it likes yours."
He tossed the ball high into the air.
"So prove me right."
Akira and Zeke both looked up.
The ball hung in the air, spinning slowly.
"Whoever grabs this ball," Kaoru said, "wins."
Zeke launched himself upward.
Akira hesitated for just a fraction of a second—
He mistimed it.
—and then jumped.
Zeke's fingers grazed the ball.
But Akira's hand closed around it.
He landed, turned, and threw.
The ball arced through the air.
SWISH.
Elimination
The screen flickered back on.
Vox's mask filled the display.
"Zeke Arakawa," he said calmly. "You have been eliminated."
Zeke stood frozen, fists clenched.
"This is bullshit," he said, voice shaking. "The rules were unfair. Akira used his legs. The play order was rigged. Kaoru was working with him—"
"Who, me?" Kaoru said innocently. "Nooo, you got it all wrong."
Vox's voice was ice-cold.
"It was realistic," he said. "A coach focuses on players who are early. The early bird gets the worm. You had every opportunity to be early. You were late."
He paused.
"And did I not say no rules? Akira's play is valid in my book."
Silence.
"Now scram," Vox said. "And remember—pay your debt."
Zeke stood there for a long moment, jaw tight, glaring at Akira.
Then he sighed.
"I have no enemies," he muttered.
And he walked out.
END OF CHAPTER 3
Next: Chapter 4 — The Rankings Revealed