The Yokonan players' sneakers squeaked against the polished gym floor as they pushed themselves harder, sprinting up and down the court in steady, grueling repetition. Muscles strained and lungs burned, but they pressed on with grim determination. Today was about making up for the sting of their recent loss.
"Yes, keep it up, everyone! Only two more suicides left to go!" the captain shouted, voice cutting sharply through the rhythm of heavy breaths and footfalls. His tone was firm, unyielding.
The team's feet pounded on the hardwood like a steady drumbeat, echoing through the empty gym. Sweat slicked the skin on their foreheads and ran in rivulets down their backs, dampening their jerseys. The faint smell of rubber soles against the floor mixed with the metallic tang of the gym's ventilation.
"Alright, break! You guys can go home for the day," Keichiro finally called out, his voice rough with fatigue.
Everyone staggered to a stop. Some hunched over, hands on their knees, others lay flat on the floor, chests heaving. Shirts clung to their bodies, and every inhale felt like dragging air through heat.
This was punishment for our poor performance in the game against Toshigawa, so why did he do it with us? Eiji wiped sweat from his brow and looked at his captain. He's truly a man of discipline and a team-oriented person.
Keichiro scanned the court, watching how a few players collapsed from exhaustion while two figures remained upright, breathing steadily.
It seems like these suicides barely phased Kogure or Kayano. Well, that is to be expected since these guys are the key to our victory this year, Keichiro thought.
A plastic snap broke the quiet as a cooler lid opened.
A crisp snap echoed as the cooler lid opened.
"Great work, everyone! Whoever wants water can line up right here and take a cup or two. I just got this igloo filled," Rinka called, balancing a stack of white paper cups in her arms.
Kayano's fingers clutched a cup, the cold sweat from the practice making it slick. He tilted it back in a few swift gulps, the paper crinkling between his hands. "Rinka, you're the best!"
Keichiro's footsteps thudded lightly on the polished floor as he approached, eyes narrowing at the statistics sheet Rinka had set on the bench. He leaned over it, brow furrowing. "Rinka, did you get the full stats for that practice match?"
"Yeah, I did." Rinka tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the faint rustle of her sleeve brushing against the paper. "That team… they really surprised me."
Keichiro reached out, fingers brushing the edge of the sheet. The paper crinkled softly under his touch as he lifted it, eyes scanning the names and numbers with a slow, deliberate tilt of his head. "Let me see."
Name: Shino Katsuragi
Jersey number: 6
Points: 2
Blocks: 0
Rebounds: 0
Steals: 1
Assists: 1
Fouls: 0
Name: Yukio Hamaguchi
Jersey number: 7
Points: 25
Blocks: 3
Rebounds: 12
Steals: 2
Assists: 2
Fouls: 2
Name: Takahiro Morikawa
Jersey number: 8
Points: 14
Blocks: 2
Rebounds: 4
Steals: 0
Assists: 4
Fouls: 2
Name: Noboru Takemoto
Jersey number: 10
Points: 8
Blocks: 0
Rebounds: 0
Steals: 0
Assists: 1
Fouls: 4
Name: Hayato Nakajima
Jersey number: 4
Points: 13
Blocks: 0
Rebounds: 1
Steals: 2
Assists: 15
Fouls: 0
Keichiro's eyes widened slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching as he leaned closer to the table. His fingers brushed the crinkled edge of the sheet, the faint scratch of paper echoing softly in the quiet gym.
Name: Tetsuo Kawaguchi
Jersey number: 11
Points: 27
Blocks: 5
Rebounds: 2
Steals: 3
Assists: 4
Fouls: 1
Keichiro tapped the paper thoughtfully, the faint rustle of the sheets punctuating the quiet gym. His eyes narrowed slightly. "I see… they have a well-balanced team despite their lack of experience."
Rinka's hand hovered over the next sheet, the cool breeze from the open window lifting a stray strand of hair across her cheek. Her fingers lingered on the edge of the paper. "Tetsuo… he really stood out," she murmured, eyes flicking up to meet Keichiro's briefly before returning to the sheet. "Twenty-seven points while Kogure scored thirty-four. If Kogure had come on from the start, I don't think the match would have been this close."
Keichiro nodded slowly, fingers brushing the edge of the statistics sheet. His eyes narrowed, a faint crease forming between his brows. "You're right… but they still held on until the very last second. Yukio found himself a second, and he's a solid point guard. That's promising." He tapped the paper lightly with his fingertip. "Still… our teams are on completely different levels. If they somehow make it to the inter-high preliminaries, we won't have any trouble beating them."
Kogure's gaze drifted to the window, the fading sunlight casting long stripes across his face. His fingers tapped absently on his knee. See you at the inter-high prelims, old friend, he thought, letting the memory of past games warm the quiet hum of the train.
The train rumbled steadily along its tracks, the hum of the engine vibrating through the floor and seats. Players slouched in their seats, shoulders heavy, eyes staring out at the darkening city passing by. Faint sighs mixed with the low metallic clatter of wheels on rails—the weight of the loss settling over them like a thick fog.
This is awkward, Haruko thought, fingers curled tightly in her lap. First, they lost the match, and then Tetsuo had a run-in with that girl. I wonder how he knows her.
Nanaho shifted in her seat, fingers drumming lightly against the cool metal edge. She let out a soft exhale, breaking the silence. "Listen up, everyone. You did well against Yokonan—there's no need to beat yourselves up. The game could have gone either way."
Yukio's voice cut through the gentle hum of the car, calm but firm. "Nanaho's right. We went out there, gave it our all, and almost won. From here, all we can do is keep growing and improving before the tournament. Think of that match as a minor setback… a test to see where you are now and how much work we need to put in to reach the inter-high."
Nanaho shifted again, the soft scrape of her shoes against the floor echoing with the train's movement. She lifted her chin, eyes brightening as she leaned slightly forward. "On that note, I gathered a lot of info to prepare your individual training regimens. We also learned key things—who our main scorer is and where most points come from. We're on the right track. Don't let that loss break your spirit! You got that?!"
"Yes!" The team's voices rose together, carrying a mix of exhaustion and determination that bounced lightly off the train's metal walls.
Hayato leaned back against the seat, fingers tightening on his knees as the soft sway of the train nudged him. I know they're trying to cheer us up, but let's be real… we were never a match for Yokonan. We're lucky we didn't get humiliated, he thought, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the darkening blur of city lights streaming past the window.
The afternoon sun slanted low as Haruko and Tetsuo walked together through the quiet streets. The city hummed softly with life—birds flitted between power lines, and a faint scent of grilled street food wafted past.
Haruko's steps were light against the pavement, a soft rustle of her skirt accompanying her words. "You truly are amazing, Kawaguchi, and so is everyone on your team." Her eyes flicked to him, bright and sincere. "Even with only six members, Yokonan still felt your presence. I got to see you in action today—you're an incredible shooter."
Tetsuo's shoulders shifted slightly, a subtle shrug as he rubbed the back of his neck. His gaze stayed forward. "Did you learn anything from that match?"
A cool breeze brushed against Haruko's cheek as she nodded, the faint hum of distant traffic filling the quiet street. "Yes. No matter how small or limited a team is, as long as you focus on your strong points, it brings results."
Tetsuo's hands rested loosely at his sides, his expression calm and unreadable. "That's right. But don't forget—we're all human. Nothing is impossible. There's always a way to win."
Haruko's lips curved into a warm smile, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I won't ever forget." Her eyes lingered on him briefly, noting the quiet confidence that didn't need words.
A nearby café was filled with the low hum of conversation, the soft clink of cups against saucers, and the faint hiss of steamed milk from behind the counter. A little light spilled in through the tall windows, casting warm streaks across the wooden table where the three girls sat.
Sayaka checked her phone for the third time in five minutes. Her brow furrowed, and she exhaled through her nose.
Sayaka's fingers tapped nervously against her iced drink, the faint clink of ice punctuating the silence. Her eyes darted toward the street outside the café window. "I wonder what's taking Haruko so long. She took the day off from school to watch a practice match at Yokonan… do you think she forgot about us?"
Suzume stared blankly out the window, her expression unreadable. She slowly stirred the straw in her lemonade but said nothing.
Kotone leaned back in her chair, the soft scrape of wood against the floor echoing faintly. Her lips curled into a grin as she twirled a spoon between her fingers. "It's possible," she murmured with a teasing lilt, eyes glinting with amusement. "You know Haruko—she's obsessed with basketball. She's probably playing right now, as we speak."
Tetsuo and Haruko walked past the window of a small café, their footsteps muted against the pavement.
"Um… guys," Suzume murmured, her finger pressing lightly against the glass. "There she is."
Sayaka's chair scraped sharply against the floor as she sprang up, knocking it back with a clatter. She rushed toward the door, breath catching slightly. "Haruko!!"
Haruko blinked, eyes widening in mild surprise. "Huh? Sayaka… what are you doing here?"
Sayaka planted her hands on her hips, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. The soft scrape of her sneakers on the pavement accompanied her words. "Waiting for you, of course! We've been here for an hour—what took you so long?"
Haruko's cheeks flushed as she laughed softly, brushing a hand through her hair. "Ah, I almost forgot about our meeting! Sorry! You go ahead without me, Kawaguchi. Today was fun—see you later!"
Tetsuo's footsteps echoed faintly as he turned down another street, his expression calm, voice low and measured. "Yeah… see you."
As soon as Haruko slid into the chair, the faint scrape of wood on tile echoed across the café.
"So that's what you've been up to, huh? A date with your boyfriend?" Kotone teased, leaning forward slightly, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Haruko's cheeks flared bright red, fingers clutching the edge of the table. "It's not like that! We are not—"
Kotone leaned back, twirling a spoon between her fingers. "He's so tall and handsome! Where did you even meet him?"
Haruko's hands folded in her lap, eyes darting briefly to the tabletop. "He's a basketball player from Toshigawa Academy. I was just… at his match, watching his team play. That's all there is to it."
Suzume's voice cut in, flat and teasing, as she leaned on her elbow. "So the reason you went to that practice match today was to watch him?"
Kotone let out a soft laugh, tapping her fingers against the cup. "Who wouldn't want to cheer him on? I mean, he's a total hottie."
Haruko's shoulders tensed and her hands shot up slightly, a flustered squeak escaping her. "Again—it's not like that!!"
At home, Takahiro dropped his bag onto the floor with a soft thud, the jingle of keys and straps echoing faintly.
"Big bro, how'd the match go?" Chihiro asked, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, eyes bright with curiosity.
Takahiro rubbed the back of his neck, shoulders sagging slightly. "We lost 89–90… but we almost won."
Chihiro grinned, a teasing glint in his eyes. "I see. I didn't expect you to win anyway, so you don't need to explain—you suck, big bro."
Suddenly, he bolted toward the kitchen, voice ringing. "Mom!! Takahiro lost the match today!!"
Their mother looked up from the counter, worry creasing her brow. "What? Really? I hope he's doing alright."
Takahiro clenched his fists, jaw tight, the faint scrape of his shoes against the floor as he shifted. "I might have lost today… but next time, I'll definitely—"
Tetsuo stepped inside his house, the quiet creak of the door marking his arrival.
"I'm home, Usagi," he called, footsteps soft on the wooden floor.
Usagi looked up from the kitchen counter, hands resting lightly on the edge. Her voice remained calm, gentle. "Welcome back. How did the practice match go?"
Tetsuo rubbed the back of his neck, gaze drifting toward the hallway. "We lost by a single point."
She nodded slowly, the faint swish of her skirt brushing against the counter. "I see… so it was a close game, then."
"Yeah, something like that," he murmured, shoulders shifting slightly as he moved toward his room.
The faint clink of water from the bathroom followed her words. "I prepared the bath for you. Go ahead and relax."
Tetsuo's hands fell loosely at his sides as he gave a small nod. "Thank you… you're really a big help, Usagi," he murmured, footsteps quiet as he disappeared down the hallway.
Usagi's eyes lingered on him, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "You're truly changing, Tetsuo… it's slowly showing through your actions."