"Yo, Kota, opening your presents already? Wait—why the heck are you holding a dumbbell?"
Reiko, fresh from the bathroom, froze mid-step at the sight before her.
"Pfft—no way! Are you seriously planning to carry that thing all the way to China and then back again? Hahaha, that's hilarious!"
After a brief moment of confusion, realization dawned on her—and she burst into even louder laughter.
Kota's face darkened by the second.
"Don't get mad… don't get mad. Anger raises blood pressure… deep breaths…"
He took a slow inhale, then carefully placed the cursed dumbbell back into its box. His gaze moved toward the two unopened presents.
Aomine and Takeuchi. Both, in their own way, were "heavyweights".
"Oi, Aomine… you didn't also get me dumbbells, did you?"
After a brief hesitation, Kota reached for Aomine's box.
Reiko leaned closer, eyes sparkling with curiosity.
The box was flat—similar in shape to Kise's. But given Aomine's personality, it was unlikely to be photos. And even if it was, Aomine wouldn't seriously gift him a personal photo set… right? Actually, no—dumbbells would be less weird.
Kota lifted the box, testing its weight. It wasn't light, but not heavy either. Definitely not dumbbells.
"So, what was it?"
He peeled the wrapping open—and blinked. Inside was… a magazine?
Aomine gave him a book? Impossible.
Of course, Kota was overthinking it. There was no way someone like Aomine would gift a book.
"Mai Horikita's Private Collection— huh???"
Kota's brain short-circuited. On the cover, a swimsuit model posed with a wink that could cause nosebleeds.
Reiko's face went from curiosity to disgust in 0.2 seconds—her expression change worthy of an Oscar.
"Wait, wait! It's not what it looks like—" Kota stammered, shoving the magazine back into the box. But Reiko held up a hand to stop him.
"Save it, Kota. Birds of a feather flock together… I'm judging you."
Kota: "…"
"Dear god, what have I done to deserve this?"
After some teasing and laughter, Reiko finally stopped glaring at him like he was radioactive waste. Her curiosity returned as her eyes moved to the two remaining boxes—one from Takeuchi, one from Araki.
Kota picked up Takeuchi's first.
Reiko smirked. "Saving the best for last, huh? Like leaving the biggest grape till the end?"
She elbowed him playfully, trying to read his expression. But Kota wasn't about to blush like some shy high schooler.
"Maybe," he said flatly, opening the next box.
Inside were a razor, some hair wax, and a set of mystery-brand skincare oils.
Kota inhaled deeply, resisting the urge to sigh. He examined the razor closely. "This isn't… used, right?"
"Hmm. Looks new," Reiko replied, fighting a grin.
Compared to the last few "creative" gifts, these were almost decent. If you ignored the sketchy skincare brand, at least the razor was practical.
"Well then, only one left…"
He neatly placed Takeuchi's "grooming kit" back into the box, then reached for Yasuko's present.
Reiko watched him with amusement. "Nervous, are we? It's from Araki herself, after all~"
"Just shut up and watch."
Kota rolled his wrist once, took a breath, and opened the small box with deliberate care. It was the smallest of all the gifts, and unconsciously, his movements softened.
Reiko found herself smiling at the sight—partly amused, partly envious.
Lucky guy.
"Let's see what Araki got you—wait, is that… a bill?"
Reiko had planned to act surprised no matter what Araki gave him. Even if it was something plain, she'd at least pretend to be touched.
But a bill? Even she couldn't keep a straight face.
"Ha… haha, Kota, listen, this must be a misunderstanding! Araki's never dated anyone or given gifts before, so this might just be her… uh, creative way of expressing herself?"
Her forced laugh was painful to hear. Even as a professional wingwoman, Reiko couldn't spin this one.
"A birthday present… that's literally a receipt? Is this affection or emotional damage?"
Kota didn't speak. He picked up the bill. It listed every expense from when he'd met Araki last year—his entire gym tab at Shark Gym, plus her gas money from giving him rides.
At the bottom, a neat line of handwriting read:
-If you run off to another country without paying me back, I'm calling the police.-
The handwriting was neat and elegant—totally unadorned. No doodles or hearts like a typical girl's card.
Something slipped from between the pages—a bank card, with a sticky note attached: ¥2,000,000.
Reiko went quiet instantly. Her expression softened.
"Okay… maybe she's not hopeless after all."
Kota glanced at the card and set it aside, then looked again at the bill, his lips curling into a faint smile.
"Honestly… you really know how to mess with my emotions."
"I'll take the card—but the bill? Sorry, no refunds."
After packing up the gifts and luggage, Kota followed Reiko to the terminal. Once on the plane, he reminded her to wake him for meals, then slipped on an eye mask and tilted his head back, fast asleep before takeoff.
Moments later, the plane soared into the sky—heading straight for China.
...
Meanwhile, on the other side of the world…
Inside a massive sports arena in the UK, two teams clashed fiercely. The crowd was electric, shouting themselves hoarse. But the scoreboard told a different story.
96–41.
After only three quarters, it was already a massacre.
On the court, a blond player dribbled with a dark smirk. The hopeless expressions of his opponents only fueled his amusement.
Beep beep beep!
Timeout for the Jabberwock.
"Nash, Silver—you two take a rest," said the bald coach, clutching a clipboard. Oddly enough, even as coach, his voice lacked authority.
Nash frowned, clearly displeased, while Silver simply loomed over him like a shadow. The man was huge—blocking out the stadium lights.
"Silver" Nash said at last, breaking the tension. "Relax. Let's take five. I've had my fun."
"Fine, since you said so" Silver replied, plopping onto the bench, legs crossed, smirking at the crushed faces of their opponents.
Trailing by over fifty points before the final quarter… it was soul-crushing.
The coach finally exhaled—only for his phone to start ringing.
"Hello? …Really? And the price is—? Oh. I see. I'll think about it."
When he hung up, his face was unreadable. He leaned toward Nash and whispered something.
Nash's eyes narrowed. "What? Another team wants to play us? Who's dumb enough to ask for a beating?"
"It's from Japan," the coach replied. "They're—"
"Japan?" Nash cut him off with a sneer. "You mean those yellow monkeys? Just thinking about breathing the same air makes me sick. No thanks."
The coach hesitated, then raised five fingers.
Nash's eyes lit up instantly.
"Oh? Now that's interesting… Fine. Let's go entertain them."
He leaned back with a cold grin.
"Japan, huh? Hope they've got somebody worth crushing."