The court felt heavier that morning.
Not just because of the humidity or the weight of post-practice soreness — but because we knew they were watching.
Those upperclassmen from yesterday. The ones who called me "miracle pass boy."
I hated that nickname. Not because it was wrong, but because it was too close to the truth.
🏀 Preparation Phase
Coach Mitsuyoshi gathered us in the locker room. He looked more serious than usual — and that was saying something.
"New challengers," he said, slapping the whiteboard. "Third-years from Shoyo Academy's prep branch. Not part of a formal league team — but ex-junior champs with reputations. We'll hold a friendly scrimmage. I expect you all to be at your best."
Sakuragi raised his hand. "Coach! What if I dunk on all of them and break their will to live?"
"…Then they'll dunk back and break you, Bakagami," Rukawa muttered.
Sakuragi jumped up. "WHAT DID YOU SAY, FOX BOY?!"
I chuckled from the back. "Boys, boys. Save the love-hate for the court."
🧪 The Training Montage: Chaos Edition
Coach gave us two days to prep.
That meant two days of:
Running suicides until Mito considered quitting basketball for interpretive dance.
One-on-one drills where Rukawa finally taught Sakuragi proper footwork (after calling him a "hopping octopus" five times).
Me designing new offensive sets using mismatches and off-ball screens.
It was hell.
It was heaven.
We were growing.
Even Rukawa — usually silent and aloof — stayed late, asking me about pick-and-roll reads.
"Why do you always go left off the screen?" he asked one evening.
I blinked. "That's where I collapsed," I said.
Rukawa paused. "...You still afraid?"
I looked at him. "Every time."
He nodded slowly. "Same."
And just like that, we understood each other a little more.
🎮 Haruko's POV: Off the Court, In the Stands
Haruko stood beside the water cooler, scribbling furiously into her notebook as the team practiced.
"They're different," she whispered to herself.
Sakuragi, of course, kept glancing over mid-drill, only to trip over his own shoes every time she smiled.
But her eyes lingered on Kudo.
His passes were faster now. Sharper. His voice carried differently when he called out plays. He didn't just belong — he led.
She sketched him mid-pass, then paused and added a subtle glow around his figure.
"Like a star," she murmured. "Or maybe... a phoenix?"
🧢 Day of the Scrimmage: Enter the Rivals
They came dressed in navy tracksuits, walking in like they already owned the court.
Four of them — lean, tall, fast. And then him.
The guy from before. Scar under his eye. Cold smile. Name: Arata Kenzaki. Rumored to be a former MVP in his junior circuit days.
"Yo," Arata said. "Ready to get schooled?"
Sakuragi stepped forward. "Ready to dunk you into retirement!"
Mito snorted. "Let's just not die first, please."
I raised my hand. "Let's settle it on the court."
🧠 Game On: Round One
First Quarter:
Arata's team was fast.
Their passes were crisp, their movement disciplined. They ran triangle offense like a machine. We were down 10–4 in minutes.
I called timeout.
"Focus on communication," I said. "We're reacting too slow. Sakuragi — fake hard screens, roll early. Mito — cut baseline, I'll find you."
Rukawa added, "I'll break their point guard. Just give me the lane."
Coach raised an eyebrow. "Did he just… speak strategy?"
I smirked. "We're evolving."
⚡ Second Quarter: The Comeback Starts
That's when it happened.
We ran my "Cyclone Misdirection" — fake pass to the top, Rukawa dashes right, Sakuragi screens, I spin baseline and hit Mito for an open floater.
Swish.
Even Arata grinned. "Nice play. Didn't think you had a brain behind the jokes."
I shot back, "Didn't think you had one behind that scar."
Ooooohs echoed from the bench.
Sakuragi wheezed, "He's roasting people during the game?!"
🩸 Third Quarter Drama: The Scare
Then came the worst moment.
I sprinted after a loose ball. A rival guard lunged too.
I got there first.
But twisted wrong.
My old knee — the one that failed me in another life — buckled.
Everything stopped.
Pain shot up my leg. I hit the ground, breath knocked out.
The gym fell silent.
"KUDO!!" Sakuragi screamed, dropping everything to rush over.
Haruko was already out of the stands.
I looked up through a haze.
"D-don't cry," I whispered. "You'll make my rebirth look cheap."
She laughed and cried at the same time. "You idiot."
🩹 Back on the Court
Turns out it was just a sprain.
Coach tried to bench me.
I refused.
"I sat out once before," I told him. "Not again."
He gave me a long look. Then nodded.
"Kudo. Lead them."
💥 Final Quarter: Team Unleashed
We went all in.
Rukawa took over scoring.
Sakuragi, finally trusting his timing, landed a perfect alley-oop from me that shook the rim.
Mito — the ever-loyal enforcer — dived for loose balls like a madman.
And me?
I danced.
Passes.
Cuts.
No-looks.
Backdoors.
The crowd stood.
Haruko sketched furiously from the sideline, her pencil unable to keep up.
Final seconds.
Tie game.
I looked at Sakuragi.
He nodded.
I faked a drive, defenders collapsed — and passed behind my back.
Sakuragi launched.
DUNK.
Buzzer.
Shohoku: 54
Shoyo Prep: 52
🤝 Aftermath and Respect
Arata walked over after the game.
"You play like someone with more experience than your age."
I shrugged. "Maybe I've been here before."
He smiled. "We'll meet again. And next time? I won't go easy."
"Neither will we."
As they left, I turned to my team.
"You guys were incredible."
Mito grinned. "We got lucky."
"No," I said. "We earned that win."
🌠 End of the Night
That night, we returned to my place, exhausted but glowing.
Sakuragi threw an arm around me. "You're the real MVP, Kudo."
"Yeah," Mito added. "Even if your rice still sucks."
We laughed.
Rukawa said nothing… but handed me an ice pack without comment.
Haruko sent another drawing — this one of our whole team, fists raised in victory.
I printed it.
Taped it on the wall.
Under it, I wrote:
"We rise."
Because this wasn't just about winning games.
It was about growing.
Together.