As practice wrapped up, both teams slumped to the ground, drenched in sweat and heaving for air. Nanaho stood on the sidelines, still wide-eyed, her heart racing from watching their intense back-and-forth battle.
"Looks like my team took the win today, Hiroki," Seiji said, flashing a smug grin.
"No, Seiji. Yukio and I are the winners of this match," Hiroki shot back without hesitation.
"I was keeping score in my head. It ended seventy-nine to seventy-six. We came out on top," Hayato chimed in, arms crossed, standing firmly by his point.
"That's cute, kid, but last time I checked, I dropped thirty-two points, and Yukio put up around twenty. There's no way we lost," Hiroki said, his eyes narrowing, a playful yet competitive edge in his tone.
"I scored thirty-seven, and Hayato had about twenty. Your argument holds no ground," Seiji fired back.
"We should've kept track," Takahiro muttered, shaking his head.
"Yeah, Hiroki and the captain always get like this when they're up against each other. They'll argue forever if no one keeps score. Neither of them can stand losing," Yukio sighed.
Nanaho watched the two with admiration. Their fierce desire to win, their relentless drive, it was infectious. "They're incredible," she whispered to herself, eyes sparkling. "I want to see just how far they can go. I want to witness everything."
From that day forward, I kept pushing them. I trained them harder, sharpening their skills, turning weaknesses into strengths, and reinforcing the cracks in their teamwork. They thrived under the pressure, exceeding my expectations time and time again. They were growing fast, and I knew they needed something bigger. So, I arranged a practice match against Yokonan High School, the second-strongest team in the prefecture.
That decision changed everything.
Yokonan's roster was stacked. Their point guard, Jintaro Kyousuke, was a third-year with dazzling handles and a commanding presence. Keichiro Yamada, their captain and center, was only a second-year but already a powerhouse. They had Ryuu, a scrappy first-year starter, and their prized newcomer: Kogure Kobayashi, the former junior high MVP.
When Yukio saw Kogure warming up, his eyes hardened.
"So, this is where you ended up, Kogure."
"Yeah, I chose Yokonan. No excuses. And I'm going to crush you and your brother," Kogure replied, his tone cold but his grin sharp.
The game began with blazing intensity. Jintaro, quick on his feet, faked right, sending Hayato off balance before firing a pass to Keichiro in the paint.
"Come on, bring it," Seiji said, planting his feet in front of him.
Keichiro pounded the ball and spun, attempting a thunderous dunk, but Seiji met him mid-air and slapped it away.
"That's the fifth block!" a Yokonan player whispered, disbelief thick in his voice.
"How is their center completely shutting down our captain? He hasn't scored at all!"
"What kind of monster is this guy?"
Jirou grabbed the rebound and kicked it to Hiroki, who sprinted up the court. Kogure stepped in his path, eager.
"Let me show the MVP he's not the only star," Hiroki said with a smirk, setting his feet and launching a three-pointer over Kogure's outstretched hand. The ball swished through the net.
"We took the lead! We're actually leading Yokonan!" Nanaho cried, her excitement bursting out.
Coach Arimoto watched silently, arms crossed. "That Seiji... his defense is suffocating. Even if they're ahead, I'm not worried."
On the next possession, Kogure exploded past Hiroki, his speed leaving no room for reaction, and slammed the ball through the hoop with vicious force.
"It's tied! Kogure's a monster," Takahiro said, stunned.
"And he's just a first-year like Hayato. We're nowhere near that level," Jirou added, shaken.
Seiji got the ball on the next play, facing off against Keichiro again. With a fake spin right, Seiji slipped past him, bounced the ball low, and leapt up. Keichiro scrambled to contest but bit on the fake, and Seiji soared past him to hammer down a rim-shaking dunk.
"Whoa! Seiji dunked on Keichiro!" both teams gasped in unison.
Keichiro seethed, biting his lip. "This whole game... I haven't scored a single damn point because of him... and now this?!"
Jintaro fired a pass to Kogure. Hiroki stepped up, determined. Kogure crossed right, Hiroki bit, and Kogure spun left, breezing past. He soared for another dunk, but Seiji blocked it.
Jirou snatched the rebound and launched it up to Hayato, who sprinted toward the hoop. As Hayato took his final steps for a layup, Keichiro trailed him. In a desperate lunge, Keichiro blocked Hayato from behind. Both crashed to the floor.
Hayato clutched his knee, a cry of pain ripping from his throat.
"Hayato! Are you okay?!" Jirou sprinted to his side, panic-stricken.
Everyone surrounded him in seconds.
"I didn't mean for this," Keichiro said, his voice trembling with guilt.
Seiji scowled, his fists clenched. "His knee's probably fractured. Damn it!"
"Someone grab ice and my first aid kit!" Nanaho barked.
"Ryuu, go! Hurry!" Coach Arimoto snapped.
Once they wrapped the injury, Seiji and Hiroki carefully lifted Hayato and laid him on the bench.
"I'm sorry about this outcome," Coach Arimoto said.
"It's not your fault. Injuries happen in games like this," Seiji said, though his frustration simmered beneath the surface.
"Do you want to continue? We can end it here."
"No. We finish the game."
"Junpei, you're in. Warm up."
"Right."
"Nanaho! Please, don't bench me! I can still play!" Hayato pleaded, tears in his eyes.
"Absolutely not. This could ruin your knee forever."
"Will I play this season? Please, just tell me."
"I... I don't know. It doesn't look good."
"Why?! Why did this have to happen to me?!" Hayato cried, burying his face in his hands.
It broke me to see him like that. And after Hayato went down, the tide of the game shifted hard. Kogure unleashed his full might, scoring relentlessly. Despite our best efforts, we lost, ninety-five to eighty-four. Kogure alone racked up forty-seven points.
Hayato was rushed to the hospital. His parents were called immediately. When the doctor delivered the news, the room went silent. A six-month recovery. Just like that, our team lost one of its core players.
Our morale crumbled.
But the worst was still to come.
"Jirou, you bastard!" Hiroki's voice exploded across the gym.
Before anyone could react, he charged and punched Jirou square in the face, sending him sprawling. Hiroki pounced, driving his fists into Jirou over and over until Seiji, Yukio, and Takahiro wrestled him off.
"Let me go! I'll kill him!"
"What the hell, Hiroki?! Why would you do that?!" Seiji roared, his face contorted in shock.
"That scum laid his hands on my sister! He tried to force himself on her! He hit her! You think I'd let that slide?!"
Jirou lay unconscious, his shoulder shattered, his jaw dislocated, blood pooling around his bruised face.
The next day, the police arrived to take Hiroki away.
"How could you do this to me, Hiroki?! This was our year! Our dream!" Seiji's voice cracked, tears threatening to fall.
"You think I threw all this away for nothing?! He tried to hurt my sister! What if he'd done something that would've scarred her forever?!"
"That's enough! Get in the car!" an officer barked, shoving Hiroki into the vehicle.
Seiji's voice trembled with betrayal. Yukio sobbed quietly. The team was shattered.
The whole school buzzed with gossip. Tomoe, Hiroki's sister, was ostracized. She drifted away from us, isolating herself despite our efforts to reach out.
Even with the scandal hanging over us, we fought hard. With Yukio and Seiji leading a two-man game under my guidance, we stormed through the rounds. We clawed out victory after victory, refusing to surrender.
But it wasn't enough.
In the fourth round, we faced Kaisei Academy and lost by a single, agonizing point: seventy-eight to seventy-seven.
That was the last game Seiji ever played. When the season ended, Seiji, Junpei, Marube, Akira—they all graduated, leaving only Takahiro and Yukio behind.
The dream we built together had crumbled. And the weight of that loss still lingers.