"You okay, Captain? Uh… can I even call you Captain?"
Kota reached down to help Li Wenyu up as he asked, his tone sincere.
He wasn't teasing — just being careful. Technically, calling him Captain was a bit much. After all, Kota was still a member of the national youth team, while Li captained the senior national team.
The two teams were related, but the gap between them was significant. Calling him "Captain" too casually might come off as presumptuous — brown-nosing, even. "Captain Li" would've been safer.
But before Kota could overthink it, Li quickly grabbed his hand and stood up, forcing a smile that looked more painful than cheerful.
"Yeah, sure! Call me whatever you want!"
The one-on-one they'd just played had left a deep impression on Li Wenyu.
"I thought… you were supposed to support me" he thought bitterly, glancing at the ball still rolling away on the hardwood.
"Guess I got destroyed…" he muttered, barely loud enough for himself — but Kota, standing right beside him, caught every word.
"N-no, Captain, you played great! Just that, uh…"
Kota tried to throw out a few compliments, but the memory of what just happened flashed through his head — and he realized there really wasn't anything he could praise.
In that last one-on-one, once Kota entered Zone, he had combined drives and jump shots effortlessly. The game to eleven ended before Li could even touch the ball — a flawless 11–0. The final play? Kota's crossover had dropped Li clean onto the floor.
Thankfully, the youth team gym was private, and since Kota's group had come early, only Coach Sun and Ebi had witnessed the massacre.
Kota thought for a moment, then said, "Wanna go another round?"
"This time, you start on offense."
It was a friendly gesture, but in his head, Kota was debating whether to go easy this time.
Li blinked, sizing him up — shorter, leaner — and began scheming.
"That kid's drives are deadly, but with that frame? His defense can't be that strong. Letting me go first, huh? Oh, I see… he's throwing me a bone. Smart move, rookie."
"Okay, okay!" Li nodded eagerly.
"Coach Sun's watching anyway. He told me to test your strength — offense, defense, all of it. You passed the offense test, but he hasn't seen your defense yet."
Grinning, he jogged off to grab the ball. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sun watching silently from the sideline. No objections. That was all the confirmation he needed.
"Alright, Kota! Coach is watching, so don't you dare go easy on me, got it? He'll chew you out if he notices!"
He tossed the ball over for the ritual exchange.
Kota caught the ball, glanced at Sun again, and sighed. "Alright, Captain. I won't go easy."
"Hmph! You better not! My defense might not be great, but my offense—" Li Wenyu flexed his right arm dramatically, showing off a well-defined bicep. "—is top-tier!"
Kota nodded with mock seriousness. "Looks convincing enough." He returned the ball and stepped into defensive stance.
"Let's do this, Captain."
His tone softened, but his body shifted instinctively into focus. Even if he was planning to hold back, he didn't want to disrespect the game.
"Death Bind" he muttered mentally, engaging his defensive instinct — but keeping Zone off.
He thought that would balance things out — maybe make the match more even.
But there was one tiny detail he hadn't accounted for: all of his recent one-on-one opponents were Miracle Generation–level monsters. Against normal players, Kota had no real sense of just how overpowered his "average" defense actually was.
SLAP!
The sharp sound of a clean steal echoed through the gym.
The scene was identical to before — Li's confident smirk freezing mid-expression. The only difference this time? He was the one on offense.
The ball rolled away slowly as Kota crouched, feeling the residual vibration in his fingertips.
"Wait… that felt faster than usual. My timing's sharper?"
Then he remembered — the system reward from last night.
"Professional Player Experience Pack."
The name might've sounded ordinary, but the effect? Tremendous.
"Again."
Kota's tone was calm but resolute. He wasn't satisfied. He wanted to fully understand what had changed in his body.
Li gulped as he picked up the ball, his heartbeat quickening.
"No way. That steal had to be a fluke… right?"
Back on offense, he hesitated — studying Kota's stance. The kid looked… harmless. Relaxed. Almost friendly.
"Yeah, that's it. Just coincidence."
With that reassurance, Li started his move — a right-hand step-back into a quick crossover, then a pull-up jumper from mid-range, his signature shot. The rhythm was smooth; the form was crisp.
Perfect, he thought. As long as I keep this tempo, this shot's mine—
SMACK!
Kota didn't even move his feet. His upper body leaned in, perfectly timing the strike — cleanly knocking the ball loose just as Li gathered to shoot.
This time, the ball rocketed across the gym like a cannonball and slammed into the chair beside Sun.
Sun's pupils shrank. He slowly turned to look at Kota, scanning him up and down as if trying to see through his skin.
"Oh-ho-ho," Ebi chuckled beside him, stroking his beard with delight. "Looks like little Li just met his match."
There was amazement in his eyes — but more than that, joy.
No matter how freakishly talented Kota was, he was one of their own now — a player for China's national youth team.
The stronger he was, the better.
"Heh," Ebi muttered, smirking. "Japan must've lost their minds letting a kid like that slip away."
— — —
Tokyo, Japan
Inside a quiet café in the city, Kasamatsu sipped his coffee slowly. Across from him sat a middle-aged man in sunglasses, looking deeply unimpressed.
"So, Kasamatsu," the man grumbled, scratching his head. "After all I just told you, you really have nothing to say?"
He glanced down at his cup, grimacing. Who actually enjoys this bitter stuff?
Kasamatsu tapped his fingers on the table. "Kagetora, you did say a lot. But you haven't answered the most important question yet."
"Why me? Out of all the players in Japan — the pros, the Miracles, the Uncrowned Kings — there are at least three point guards better than me. So why are you inviting me to play in this exhibition match?"
"If you don't give me a clear reason, I'm not accepting."
His tone was firm. Kasamatsu had always believed that anything out of the ordinary meant there was a catch.
Kagetora sighed. He could tell that if he didn't come clean, this deal was dead in the water.
"Alright, alright, I'll explain."
"First off," Kagetora began, "this exhibition match with the Jabberwock — that's my doing. I pushed it through the Basketball Association myself."
"The goal's simple: I want our younger generation to experience real world-class basketball — to see what true elites look like. They can't stay frogs at the bottom of the well forever."
He leaned back and grinned. "And those two Jabberwock stars, Nash Gold and Jason Silver? They've already been confirmed as starters for Team USA in the next FIBA World Cup. Facing them? That's a golden opportunity."
Kasamatsu had to admit — on paper, it sounded brilliant. Hosting a famous streetball team for a showcase game meant ticket revenue, publicity, and a valuable chance for local players to learn from international-level talent.
"Sounds great," Kasamatsu said, frowning. "But that still doesn't explain why me."
Kagetora gave him a sheepish smile and shrugged.
"Because, well…" He scratched his cheek. "We couldn't find anyone else who'd agree."