The June sun beat down relentlessly on the tin roof of the basketball gym, heating it until it was almost too hot to touch.
Sakuragi Hanamichi had already been practicing for three straight hours.
Sweat dripped from his chin onto the hardwood floor, splashing into tiny puddles.
His practice jersey was completely soaked, clinging tightly to his back.
Through the damp fabric, the movement of his shoulder muscles was clearly visible with every breath.
Coach Takeda stood on the sideline with his arms crossed, watching Sakuragi scrimmage against the starting lineup.
The smile on his face grew wider by the day.
Just two months ago, this redhead couldn’t even dribble properly.
Now…
Sakuragi established position in the low post, planting himself firmly and boxing out his defender.
A pass came in from the perimeter.
The instant he caught it, he felt the defender leaning against his left side, trying to force him away from the basket.
Without hesitating, Sakuragi spun baseline.
One quick step.
He slipped past his defender, extended his right arm, and softly kissed the ball off the backboard.
Swish.
The move wasn’t elegant.
But it was effective.
“Beautiful!” Coach Takeda couldn’t help shouting.
Sakuragi jogged back on defense.
As he passed his coach, he lifted his chin proudly, grinning from ear to ear.
Takeda simply smiled back.
In all his years of coaching basketball, he had never seen anyone improve this quickly.
Going from a complete beginner to a starting player in just two months…
That couldn’t be explained by hard work alone.
Some people were simply born for basketball.
Court awareness.
Spatial perception.
Body coordination.
Skills that many players failed to develop even after two years of practice…
Sakuragi had mastered them in just two months.
And not merely mastered them.
He was already outperforming many players who had trained for years.
Takeda officially named Sakuragi the team’s starting center.
Oda Tatsumasa, the team’s longtime ace, shifted to power forward.
At 182 centimeters tall, Oda was perfectly suited for the position.
He possessed a complete offensive arsenal—post moves, face-up attacks, and a reliable mid-range jumper—making him the team’s primary scoring option.
He had originally been the team’s center.
But after Sakuragi joined, he willingly moved to power forward.
Despite the position change, his touches didn’t decrease.
If anything, they increased.
Sakuragi’s overwhelming presence in the paint forced defenders to collapse inside, giving Oda more room to operate than ever before.
The twin towers of Sakuragi and Oda were already showing tremendous promise during scrimmages.
Although…
Every time Oda completed a play with Sakuragi, his expression resembled someone who had just bitten into an unripe persimmon—bitter, sour, and more than a little unwilling.
Lately, Coach Takeda’s attention had been almost entirely focused on Sakuragi.
After serving as the team’s ace for two years, Oda couldn’t help feeling as though he had been pushed into the background.
“Sakuragi, get deeper on your box-out!” “Sakuragi, secure position before going for the rebound!” “Sakuragi, that was a travel.
Do it again!” Every practice echoed with the same name.
Sakuragi.
Sakuragi.
Sakuragi.
Oda dribbled quietly on the side, Coach Takeda’s voice constantly ringing in his ears.
Was he frustrated?
Of course he was.
But he never complained.
Because Coach Takeda had reminded him…
This would be his final prefectural tournament as a middle school player.
He was a third-year student.
After summer, his middle school basketball career would be over.
This was his last chance.
He wanted to win.
He wanted to fight for the prefectural championship.
So…
He kept feeding the ball to Sakuragi.
Every pass was crisp and direct.
No smile.
No extra words.
The ball simply snapped into Sakuragi’s hands with mechanical precision, as though Oda were merely fulfilling a responsibility.
Yet the more they played together…
The more he realized something.
Sakuragi learned unbelievably fast.
The guy wasn’t exactly brilliant…
But his basketball instincts bordered on terrifying.
Run the same play twice…
By the third repetition, his body already remembered it.
His positioning beneath the basket improved almost daily.
When to seal his defender.
When to call for the ball.
When to kick it back out.
When to finish himself.
No one had explicitly taught him those things.
He simply figured them out through repetition.
Watching the pair develop growing chemistry, Coach Takeda couldn’t hide his satisfaction.
One phrase kept resurfacing in his mind.
Twin Towers.
Wakou Middle School had never possessed such a dominant frontcourt combination.
Perhaps no school in the entire prefecture did.
Whoever controlled the paint…
Controlled the game.
That was an absolute truth in this era of basketball.
Three-point shooting was still uncommon.
Sophisticated offensive systems were rare.
Most teams relied on simple basketball.
Feed the ball inside.
Fight for rebounds.
Score on put-backs.
Simple.
Physical.
Devastatingly effective.
Considering the skill level of middle school players, executing a proper pick-and-roll was already impressive.
Complex offensive sets were practically nonexistent.
But throwing the ball to your big man and letting him finish?
Anyone could do that.
Takeda looked toward the tournament bracket pinned to the wall.
This year…
Wakou Middle School had been placed in Group C.
Their opening-round opponent…
Koyo Junior High.
He flipped through the scouting report.
Weak interior.
Average overall talent.
Nothing particularly threatening.
An ideal first-round opponent.
A perfect chance for the team to build chemistry and settle into the tournament.
His eyes drifted lower…
To Group A.
Tomigaoka Middle School.
Takeda narrowed his eyes.
Last year, Tomigaoka had possessed an unbelievable second-year player.
A small forward.
Roughly Oda’s height.
Lean face.
Spoke very little.
Completely expressionless during games.
Yet his skills…
They were far too polished for a middle school player.
Dribbling.
Driving.
Shooting.
Every aspect of his game was elite.
Last year’s prefectural tournament had seen Tomigaoka reach the Final Four.
That second-year had averaged well over thirty points per game.
What was his name again?
…
Rukawa Kaede.
The boy known as…
The Fox of Tomigaoka.
He was frighteningly calm.
No matter what happened on the court, his face never changed.
He looked less like a middle school student…
And more like a machine.
His expression never spoke.
But his hands did.
Whenever the ball touched his fingertips…
It was as though magic took over.
Whatever shot he attempted…
Went in.
Takeda still remembered one particular play from last year’s tournament.
Rukawa grabbed a defensive rebound.
Dribbled coast-to-coast by himself.
Split three defenders.
Pulled up.
Swish.
It was a level of basketball no middle schooler should have possessed.
“The Fox of Tomigaoka…” Takeda murmured, tapping the tournament bracket twice.
If Wakou could survive Group C and advance to the semifinals…
They would meet Tomigaoka.
One step at a time.
First…
Defeat Koyo Junior High.
Even after evening practice ended…
Sakuragi remained alone inside the gym.
Everyone else had already gone home.
Half the lights had been turned off.
The remaining incandescent lamps cast a warm amber glow across the aging wooden floor.
Outside…
Night had already fallen.
June days were long.
But by seven o’clock, the last traces of sunset had disappeared beyond the horizon.
Thump.
Thump.
The rhythmic sound of a basketball echoed throughout the empty gym.
Another hundred pull-up jumpers.
Sixty-two made.
Three more than yesterday.
He retrieved the ball.
Ran.
Stopped on a dime.
Took a deep breath.
His arm rose.
His wrist snapped.
His fingertips guided the release.
The ball arced gracefully through the air.
Swish.
The sound of the net snapping was especially crisp inside the silent gym.
Sakuragi wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Tomorrow…
The tournament would begin.
He glanced toward the clock hanging in the corner.
7:13 PM.
Time to leave.
He still had a shift at the convenience store.
Beneath the same night sky…
On the opposite side of the city…
Yanai Yuri sat quietly at her desk.
The desk lamp illuminated a single sheet of paper before her.
Her fingertips slowly traced across its surface.
It was…
The official bracket for the Middle School Prefectural Basketball Tournament.
A copy she had specifically asked someone to obtain for her.
Her finger stopped at Group C.
Wakou Middle School vs.
Koyo Junior High.
She lightly tapped that line twice.
The very first match…
Wakou Middle School’s opponent…
Was her own school.
Koyo Junior High.
Yanai leaned back in her chair.
It creaked softly.
She had been wondering how she could find an excuse to watch Wakou’s game.
She couldn’t exactly show up just to watch his school.
That would be far too obvious.
But now…
Everything had fallen perfectly into place.
Her own school’s basketball team was competing.
Of course she would attend.
No one would think twice about it.
No one would suspect anything.
She simply needed to sit quietly in the stands.
Then…
She would “accidentally” run into him.
“Accidentally” greet him.
“Accidentally” say— “What a coincidence.
You’re here too?” Everything…
Would simply be coincidence.
Perfect.
She folded the tournament bracket and slipped it into one of the books on her desk.
Then she reached over and switched off the lamp.
Darkness settled over the room.
Moonlight filtered through the gap in the curtains, drawing a narrow silver line across the floor.
She lay down in bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin.
Once again…
That image surfaced in her mind.
The convenience store entrance.
The streetlamp.
The tall red-haired boy carrying a cardboard box.
The moment she wrapped herself around his arm…
He had frozen completely, as if someone had cast a paralysis spell on him.
His face had turned bright red—from the base of his neck all the way to the tips of his ears.
A quiet laugh escaped her lips.
Barely audible in the stillness of the room.
“See you tomorrow…
you interesting big puppy.” She whispered to herself.
Then slowly closed her eyes.