Swish!
The basketball spun through the air and sank into the net. The pale green team of Heichou Junior High players stood beneath the board, powerless, watching the departing figure.
One player, wearing blood-red number 6, had carved through the entire court like a blade, cutting down all opposition.
This was the first match of the middle school league. The ordinary Heichou Junior High team had been completely crushed by Haizaki Shogo, and by the third quarter, they had lost all morale. Their faces showed nothing but despair.
But the game wasn't over. The battle continued.
Shogo, in his blood-red number 6 jersey, kept scoring, finding new ways to make each basket.
Even though the score was now 68–23, the ball never left his hands. He kept scoring relentlessly.
Strangely, Shogo didn't look happy. He didn't show the usual excitement after a basket. The only one cheering was Shimizu Rena, watching from the stands, her face alight with joy.
Shogo's eyes weren't on the opponents—they were on his teammates. He observed. He scrutinized.
With a massive lead and a defeated enemy, some were excited, some overjoyed, some restless, some hesitant. Some were dribbling too long; some held the ball longer than necessary.
My teammates…
Could they resist the urge to score?
Could they control the restlessness inside them?
Were they truly aware of what it meant to sacrifice?
Shogo tested them, tested the limits of the team, examining every player's performance.
Some seemed to forget the coach's tactical instructions, forget their own pledges of resolve.
Some stayed true to their intentions, unmoved—like team captain Fukuda Sasaki.
Some were physically exhausted, unwilling to be replaced.
Some sat expressionless on the bench.
Some waved excitedly from the bench, shouting encouragement: "Go! Go!"
Coach Ichiro Kudo watched quietly, observing each player carefully.
Time stretched long, each second feeling endless.
And one by one, the balls dropped into the net.
BEEP!
Final score: 98–32. Fukuda Sogo Academy won by a landslide.
But Shogo wasn't happy. Even at the last minute, some teammates couldn't resist temptation—they started shooting.
Although they scored, Shogo felt disappointed.
He didn't scold or congratulate them. He silently returned to the rest area, packed his things, and prepared to leave.
With a face that said "Keep Out", he blocked many from approaching.
"Coach, a friend came to watch me play. I'll leave first and won't stay with you guys."
"Go ahead. We'll have a post-game meeting the day after tomorrow. I'll give you a full report, Haizaki-kun."
"Got it!"
Shogo packed up and met Shimizu Rena at the gym entrance, holding two bottles of water.
One was untouched, the other half-drunk.
"Shogo-kun, you were amazing! Here, water for you—restores your energy."
Shogo said nothing, took the full bottle, and gulped it down in one go.
Not satisfied, he grabbed the half-drunk bottle from Rena and continued drinking.
"Shogo-kun, that's my—"
Before she could finish, her delicate face turned crimson. Still, in a clear voice, she reminded him:
"Shogo-kun, guzzling isn't good. Drink slowly…"
Shogo was indeed thirsty. Playing a full-court game had drained him physically.
Fortunately, the opponents were weak, making it easier for him. Against a stronger team, he'd have been exhausted.
"Shimizu-chan, I was thirsty!"
"Let's go, Shogo-kun! I'll treat you to a big meal to celebrate your first victory."
"You said it, Shimizu-chan! You're treating, so I'm going to eat a feast."
"Let's go! Let's go!"
A handsome boy, a lovely girl, teasing each other as they headed for a meal.
Meanwhile, the Fukuda Sogo Academy basketball team rode the bus back to school, laughing and joking.
But no one noticed Coach Ichiro Kudo's dark expression.
When the bus reached the school gates and everyone prepared to disembark, Kudo's voice came out, heavy with disappointment and frustration:
"Azou, Narita… starting Monday, you don't need to come to the basketball club. The club doesn't have room for you."
The bus fell silent. Utterly quiet. Even the whisper of the wind outside felt sharper, harsher.
"Coach?"
"Coach… why…?"
The entire team stared at Kudo as if they didn't recognize him, as if the familiar coach in front of them had become a stranger.
Kudo didn't explain. He continued:
"If anyone here hasn't truly awakened to the discipline required… you don't need to show up next Monday either."
"I want players who follow instructions absolutely, who can control their desires."
"As ordinary people, as weeds, if you cannot restrain your desires, you don't deserve glory."
The meaning hit everyone. Those two players who had scored in the last minute—they'd given in to their impulses.
The ball went in, the points counted, their desires satisfied.
But the team's strategy had failed. Spirit and discipline collapsed from within.
So, the match was, in a sense, a defeat. A failure of Coach Kudo's extreme defensive tactics and a failure caused by players acting on their own impulses.
The first battle of the extreme defensive strategy ended in failure—defeated by the desire to score in the last minute.
Shogo understood this. Coach Kudo understood this. Neither could feel happy.
On the bus, heads hung low. The two who scored last-minute looked ashamed.
But is shame valuable? Not at all.
After a long time, the group dispersed. Coach Kudo returned to his office, sitting silently until nightfall.
Meanwhile, after sending Rena home, a once cheerful Shogo returned to his calm, expressionless self.
Desire… can it truly be controlled?
Could he restrain it in himself?
On the way home, Shogo kept questioning himself, but no answer came.
Sigh… tomorrow is Sunday. Time to find Aoda and hang out.
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