The lunch bell had rung quite a while ago.
In the seat by the window at the back of the classroom, a mass of red hair was sprawled across a desk.
Sakuragi Hanamichi was sleeping like the dead.
His arms were folded on the tabletop, his face buried in the crook of his elbows, leaving only half his forehead and a burst of unruly red hair visible.
His mouth hung slightly open as he breathed deeply and evenly.
Every now and then, an indistinct mumble escaped his lips.
“…Watch me dunk…
hehe…” A glistening trail of drool lingered at the corner of his mouth.
Sunlight streamed through the window and fell across his back, warming the fabric of his school uniform.
A gentle breeze drifted into the classroom, causing the pages of a textbook on his desk to flutter softly.
He didn’t wake up.
For the past few days, he had been rushing straight to the Basketball Club after school every day, practicing for three to four hours at a stretch.
Besides the fundamental drills Teacher Takeda had taught him, he had also given himself a task based on the memories from his dreams: One thousand shots a day.
After the first day, his arms were so sore he could barely lift them.
Even holding chopsticks during dinner made his hands tremble.
The second day was even worse.
His fingers swelled noticeably, and gripping a pen became a struggle.
Yet he gritted his teeth and endured it.
Even he didn’t know why he was pushing himself so hard.
Whenever exhaustion threatened to knock him flat, one sentence would echo in his mind.
“Sakuragi, you’re a damn genius.” But even more than those words, there was the other “him” who frequently appeared in his dreams.
Yuki Kawamura.
The frustration he carried.
In those dreams, Kawamura had already trained harder than anyone, giving everything he had.
Yet because of his height, he could only sit on the bench, waiting for garbage time to get a chance to play.
And besides…
Sakuragi was a genius.
How could a genius quit halfway?
His determination had shocked even Teacher Takeda.
Over the years, Takeda had seen talented students.
He had seen hardworking students.
But students who possessed both talent and relentless determination?
Those were rare.
Especially someone like Sakuragi—a former delinquent who could throw himself into training with such seriousness.
That was a first.
Every day, Sakuragi practiced until sunset, then worked part-time at a convenience store until eleven at night.
The next day, he would sleep through most of his classes.
But the moment the final bell rang, he would once again be the first person charging into the gym.
Even Oda Tatsumasa had been forced to admit it.
One evening after practice, while packing up his things, Oda glanced across the court and saw Sakuragi still there, continuing his daily thousand-shot routine.
Unable to hold back, he muttered to a teammate beside him: “This guy…
he’s actually serious.” At first, Oda had assumed Sakuragi’s interest would last only a few days.
After all, he was a delinquent.
Someone who would get excited about basketball on a whim, play for a couple of days, then disappear once the novelty wore off.
Wakou Middle School had seen plenty of people like that.
But ever since joining the Basketball Club, the red-haired troublemaker hadn’t missed a single day.
Not one.
And his rate of improvement was terrifying.
Oda never said it out loud, but deep down, he was beginning to feel uneasy.
If this continued…
His position as the ace of the Basketball Club might not be secure for much longer.
At that very moment, however, Sakuragi Hanamichi was dreaming.
Once again, he found himself standing inside that enormous arena.
The lights were dazzling.
The stands were packed with spectators.
Their cheers shook the air and made his ears ring.
He wore a basketball jersey and sprinted across the court.
The ball pounded rhythmically at his side.
The defender guarding him was sent crashing to the floor by a sharp crossover.
Then he leaped.
With one hand, he hammered the ball through the hoop.
The rim trembled.
The crowd erupted.
And the instant he landed, a swarm of girls rushed toward him, surrounding him from every direction— Smack.
A hand landed on his shoulder.
The dream shattered.
“Mmm…” Sakuragi slowly lifted his head, still half-asleep.
His eyelids felt as heavy as lead.
His vision remained blurry for a second before gradually coming into focus.
A familiar face appeared in front of him.
Mito Yohei.
He was sitting backward on a chair opposite Sakuragi, his arms folded over the backrest and his chin resting on them as he tilted his head and looked at him.
Three more figures stood nearby.
The Usual Three.
Lined up side by side like three crooked utility poles.
“What…” Sakuragi muttered hoarsely, wiping the corner of his mouth with his sleeve.
“What do you mean, what?” Yohei laughed as he straightened up.
“You’ve drooled all over your desk.” Sakuragi glanced down.
Sure enough, there was a damp patch on the tabletop.
Without expression, he wiped it away with his sleeve before looking back up.
His eyes were still bloodshot from sleep.
“Yohei, what’s up?” “Nothing major.” Yohei shifted positions, rocking lightly on the chair.
“I just wanted to ask something.” His tone was casual, but his eyes were serious.
“Are you really sure about joining the Basketball Club?” Sakuragi blinked.
Yohei met his gaze.
The question wasn’t heavy, but he was asking it sincerely.
“You know,” Yohei continued, “you’ve always been the type to get excited about something for three minutes and then lose interest.” Beside him, Takamiya, Ohkusu, and Noma nodded furiously.
“Honestly, I thought you’d quit the Basketball Club after a few days,” Yohei said with a smile.
“Didn’t expect you to stick with it.” What he didn’t say aloud was: And you barely hang out with us anymore.
Back then, the five of them spent every afternoon together.
They’d play pachinko, visit arcades, wander around town aimlessly, or pick fights with other delinquents.
Now?
The moment school ended, Sakuragi ran straight to the gym.
“Sakuragi, you’ve totally abandoned us lately.” Takamiya leaned in with an exaggeratedly wounded expression.
“Seriously,” Ohkusu agreed.
“Is basketball really that fun?
More fun than pachinko?” Noma squatted on a nearby chair, hugging his knees and grinning.
“By the way, how’s your basketball training going?
Can you actually make shots now?
Still traveling every time you touch the ball?” All three wore the teasing expressions unique to close friends.
Their eyes sparkled with anticipation as they waited for Sakuragi’s reaction.
Sakuragi shot them a glare.
The three instinctively took half a step back.
The trauma from being headbutted a few days earlier still lingered.
Sakuragi merely snorted before turning back to Yohei.
Then his expression suddenly became serious.
“Teacher Takeda said I’m a genius.” The corners of his mouth unconsciously lifted.
“He said I learn fast.
He told me to keep working hard.” Yohei raised an eyebrow.
“And he also said…” Sakuragi’s voice carried a seriousness he didn’t even realize was there.
“…that in the prefectural qualifying tournament this June, I’ll be able to officially play as a member of the team.” The noisy classroom seemed to fade into the background.
Yohei looked at Sakuragi’s face.
There was none of his usual sleazy “hehehe” expression.
No wild boasting.
No ridiculous fantasy.
For once, he was simply talking about something he genuinely cared about.
Yohei fell silent for a few seconds.
Then he smiled.
“Then train hard.” He reached out and patted Sakuragi’s shoulder.
The gesture wasn’t dramatic.
But it was sincere.
He didn’t say anything else.
Because he already knew.
This simple-minded idiot had finally found something he truly wanted to do.
Not fighting.
Not chasing girls.
Not following whatever happened to catch his attention.
Basketball.
Of all things, basketball.
Something none of them had ever expected.
Takamiya opened his mouth as if to say something, but one look from Yohei shut him up immediately.
“Let’s go.” Yohei stood and pushed the chair back into place.
“Let him sleep.” “Huh?” Takamiya looked confused.
“We’re leaving already?
We just got here.” “Let the guy rest.” The four of them turned and headed for the door.
After taking a few steps, Takamiya glanced back.
Sakuragi had already buried his face in his arms again.
Within moments, his breathing became deep and steady.
A breeze drifted through the open window.
The pages of the textbook on his desk flipped over once more.