The money from the Finals was more than just numbers. For our families, it meant relief—less overtime, fewer worries about bills. For me, it was fuel. A foundation. A chance to turn my plans into reality.
Reinvestment
I didn't waste time. A portion of my winnings went straight into what mattered most: my body and my game.
The first purchase was simple—better shoes. The worn-out sneakers I'd been using couldn't keep up anymore. I found a pair designed for explosive movement, their grip hugging the court with every step.
Next came training gear: resistance bands, a weighted vest, a jump rope, a medicine ball. Tools to sharpen strength, speed, and explosiveness. I built my own routine, combining what I remembered from NBA-level training with the raw intensity this body demanded.
Food changed too. I brought home bags of protein-rich fish, chicken, vegetables, milk, eggs. My meals became strict schedules: fuel before training, recovery after. Every bite was a brick in the foundation I was building.
At night, I wrote plans in my notebook—long-term goals, drills, even investment ideas. I wasn't just training to be strong. I was training to be inevitable.
First Steps of My Friends
Meanwhile, the changes I'd sparked in my friends were beginning to bloom.
Yohei Mito showed up to school one morning with a new fire in his eyes. "I joined the soccer club," he told me with a grin. His balance and sharp instincts stood out immediately in practice. Even the coach had raised his eyebrows at how quickly he adapted.
Chuichirou Noma walked into the rugby club like he had been born for it. His stocky build and raw strength made him a natural. On his first day, he flattened a senior during a tackling drill, earning both laughs and respect.
Yuji Ohkusu picked up a bat for the first time in years. His long arms gave him a swing that carried surprising power, and his reflexes let him track pitches faster than the other rookies. The baseball club captain muttered that he "might be a hidden gem."
And Nozomi Takamiya, hesitant at first, finally gathered the courage to step onto the judo mat. His size and weight gave him an advantage, but when he learned how to use leverage properly, he shocked everyone by flipping an opponent clean onto his back. The club coach's eyes widened—Nozomi laughed nervously, but I could tell he was proud.
A New Rhythm
Every afternoon, after their practices ended, we would still gather. They came to me with sore muscles, bruises, and tired grins, talking about drills, coaches, and teammates. For the first time, they weren't just delinquents trying to fill their days—they were athletes chasing something.
And I? I listened, I encouraged, but deep inside I knew: their sparks had turned into flames.
My Own Resolve
One evening, after they'd gone home, I stayed behind on the court alone. The sun dipped low, the shadows stretching across the cracked pavement. I dribbled the ball, my new shoes squeaking, the weighted vest pulling on my shoulders.
I thought about my friends, about the families cheering together during the Finals, about the money I now held as my weapon.
They're finding their paths. Now I have to make sure I don't waste mine.