CROSS ZERO
Chapter 16: The Aftermath
The Return
Team Omega returned to Room 13, exhausted but triumphant.
They'd qualified for the second round.
With one life left.
Kaoru was bouncing around the room, singing loudly. Taiga collapsed onto his bed, grinning. Mitsuki sat quietly, arms crossed, smiling faintly.
Akira stood by the window, staring out at the dark facility.
Just like my plays are evolving, so is my game. So is my mentality.
I wanted to be a Point Guard.
But the birth of this ego has told me otherwise.
I don't just want to orchestrate.
I want to finish.
A voice echoed in his head—his Ego, carved from purple aura, whispering:
"Chase this dream till the finish line. And when you finish, look for an extension of that dream to chase."
Akira clenched his fists.
I will.
Late Night Training
Hours later, long after the others had fallen asleep, Akira got up.
He slipped out of Room 13 and made his way to the training court.
The facility was eerily quiet at night—just the hum of fluorescent lights and the echo of his footsteps.
He pushed open the doors to the court—
—and froze.
Someone was already there.
Garachi Asahi.
He stood at the three-point line, alone, practicing shots with mechanical precision. His skeleton aura flickered faintly around him, dark and oppressive.
He glanced at Akira.
And ignored him.
Akira grabbed a basketball from the rack and fired a shot.
SWISH.
"What's up?" Akira said casually.
Garachi's jaw tightened. "Get out. This is my spot."
Akira smirked. "Last I checked, you don't own Cross Zero."
Garachi turned to glare at him. "Fine. We'll share the court. But I'll teach you respect."
He grabbed the ball and drove forward.
Akira moved to stop him. "Idiot."
Garachi shifted his center of gravity, changing his stance mid-dribble.
Akira kept up—barely.
Garachi glanced at him, eyes cold. "Your plays have become less vile, huh? Wimp."
Akira grinned. "Maybe you've gotten worse, huh? God of Death."
Garachi broke past him and fired a shot from long range.
SWISH.
He turned, expression flat. "Getting better won't help you. I'm absolute."
Akira tossed the ball back to him. "I'll stop you. You won't score that shitty point again."
Garachi caught it and fired from the same range.
SWISH.
Akira's eyes narrowed.
So he has a throw range. And once he gets there, he can easily mass-produce goals.
If I ensure he doesn't get there, I'll silence his scoring.
Akira passed the ball back and braced himself.
Garachi drove forward again.
Akira pushed himself, cutting off Garachi's path, stopping him from reaching his optimal range.
Garachi didn't slow down.
He leapt from a further spot and fired.
SWISH.
His skeleton aura manifested more clearly now—bones rattling, shadows twisting.
"Thought that was my only range?" Garachi said coldly. "You're weak. Don't try to stall. Try to take. Don't try to weaken. Try to destroy. That's the true ideology of a player."
He turned and walked toward the exit.
"And with this ideology," he said over his shoulder, "I'll be a Shooting Guard."
Akira stood frozen, breathing hard.
Then he clenched his fists.
"Sure you will," he muttered. "But… thanks for the advice, I guess."
Garachi scoffed and walked out.
Akira stood alone on the court.
And then he collapsed to the floor, staring up at the ceiling.
There are a lot of monsters in the way of this dream of mine.
He smiled faintly.
I'll defeat them.
Morning Training
The door to the training court opened.
Kaoru Unoshi walked in, grinning.
He reached down and offered Akira a hand.
"Came here to train, huh?" Kaoru said. "Me too. So let's train. What do you say?"
Akira took his hand and stood up.
"Yeah," he said. "Let's do it."
Hours Later
The sun rose.
Akira was exhausted, drenched in sweat, barely able to stand.
Kaoru, somehow, was still full of energy, bouncing around and bugging Mitsuki and Taiga.
"Come on, Missy! One more drill!"
"Call me that again and I'll end you," Mitsuki muttered.
Taiga laughed, clapping Kaoru on the back. "You're insane."
And then—
The screen in the training court flickered on.
Vox's mask appeared.
"Congratulations, survivors," he said. "The second round is over. The third round will be more rapid-fire."
He paused.
"Report to the Main Lobby. Immediately."
The Main Lobby
Akira and Team Omega walked into the massive hall, and Akira's breath caught.
There were a lot of people there.
Dozens of candidates—maybe a hundred—all standing in groups, talking quietly, sizing each other up.
"We weren't the only Team Omega," Akira muttered. "There were many other divisions too. But ours had just four teams."
His eyes swept the crowd.
And then he saw him.
A guy with icy blue hair, standing alone, arms crossed. His eyes were cold—sharp, calculating, emotionless.
Everyone around him kept their distance.
On his custom suit, a badge glowed faintly.
Akira's eyes widened.
Awesome.
The Rankings
Vox's voice echoed through the hall.
"This is the second stage, my unearthed diamonds. You managed to survive."
He pressed a button.
The massive screen behind him lit up, displaying a ranking list based on performance.
Names scrolled by—hundreds of them.
Akira scanned the list quickly, searching for his own name.
And then he saw the number one spot.
#1: HARUMA KIYOSAKA
The guy with the blue hair.
Akira stared.
Number one in the entire project.
"Awesome," he muttered.
The New Rules
Vox continued.
"The next round is simple," he said. "You will form into groups of three. You will play against another group of three."
He paused.
"If you win, you get to take a player from the losing team."
"If you lose, you lose a player."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Only those who gather five players in their team will advance to the final stage," Vox said.
He leaned forward slightly.
"If a team has just two players and loses, a player is taken away from them. The remaining player is eliminated."
Silence.
"Picking players is dependent on the winning team," Vox continued. "It could be based on merit. It could be based on something else entirely. It's up to you."
The screen shifted, displaying a massive red number:
¥2,500,000
"The debt for elimination," Vox said, "has increased."
Akira's stomach dropped.
Two and a half million yen.
Vox's voice echoed one last time:
"Before the matches begin, you will have one day to train and strategize."
The screen went dark.
"Good luck," Vox said. "You'll need it."
END OF CHAPTER 16