You know that feeling when time freezes, right before a game begins? Not fear. Not nerves. Just this electric calm—like standing at the eye of a storm.
That was today.
The gym wasn't packed, but it felt full. Sakuragi was bouncing off the walls again, doing warm-ups that looked more like interpretive dance than stretching. Mito was trying to tie his shoes while avoiding getting stepped on. Rukawa was already shooting in complete silence.
I stood near the doorway, spinning the ball on my finger.
"Let's make this one count," I muttered. "For them. For me."
🏀 Pre-Game Flashback: The Last Game I Played
[FLASHBACK – My Past Life]
I still remember it.
Last quarter. National finals. 67-66, we were up. I'd just nailed a corner three off a back screen. The crowd was wild. Coach was yelling for defense.
But I was already fading.
My legs ached. My chest was tight. But I didn't want to stop.
Until I did.
Not because I missed.
Because I collapsed.
Blackout. Heart issue. Game over.
They told me later I'd been playing with an undiagnosed condition. I'd never touch the pro court again.
That's how I died.
That's how I ended up… here.
🏀 Back to Now: Tip-Off Madness
"Shohoku, ball!"
Coach nodded toward me. I entered the game alongside Sakuragi, Mito, and the usual crew. Rukawa stayed quiet, but I felt it—he was watching me more closely now.
We moved like jazz.
Rukawa dribbled left, I backcut, and boom—he hit me with a no-look pass. I faked a layup, dished it to Sakuragi at the elbow.
"TAKE IT!" I yelled.
He jumped—too high again—but somehow managed to catch, twist, and power it into the net.
The gym thundered.
🎯 Bonding on the Fly
At halftime, Mito threw an arm around my shoulder. "Bro, how do you know where to be every second?"
"Instinct," I smirked. "And maybe a few lifetimes of practice."
Sakuragi leaned in. "What was that pass? You blinked and the ball was in my hand!"
"Flash pass. Took me a hundred tries to master in my old life."
He blinked. "...Old what?"
I coughed. "Old gym. From another town."
"Lies," Rukawa muttered nearby.
I gave him a sly grin. "You gonna argue, Pretty Boy?"
He snorted but didn't deny it.
💘 Haruko's Side Moment
As we rehydrated, I caught Haruko watching from the stands, her notebook on her lap.
She was sketching again—our silhouettes frozen mid-motion. I saw her draw Sakuragi's dunk from earlier, her pencil quick and precise.
But what surprised me?
She was sketching me too.
Later, she waved. I waved back.
Sakuragi turned red.
"You waving at Haruko-san!?"
"She waved first, dude."
"Still counts!"
⚡ Final Quarter Fire
The last quarter turned into a highlight reel.
I threw an alley-oop to Rukawa (he still didn't smile, but his eyes lit up), and Sakuragi got two blocks in a row—one with his head. (Not planned. But effective.)
Even Mito got a buzzer-beater three that made the crowd roar.
Coach looked at me and nodded. It wasn't just a compliment. It was trust.
🌌 After the Game: Quiet Moments
We won. But it wasn't about the score.
It was about how we played.
In the locker room, no one mentioned the score. We were too busy joking, throwing towels, and arguing about who made the best play.
"You see me take that charge!?" Mito yelled.
"You tripped over your own feet!" Sakuragi retorted.
"You all played great," I said, finally. "But we've got more to prove."
They quieted.
Even Rukawa looked thoughtful.
☁️ Final Thoughts: A Life Rewritten
As I walked home under the late evening sky, the cool air stung my cheeks.
I thought of the game I never finished in my past life.
I thought of Sakuragi, red hair blazing.
Of Haruko sketching in silence.
Of a team that didn't need to know my secret to fight alongside me.
This world may not be the one I was born in.
But it's the one I chose.
And this time?
I'm going all.