The last traces of April slipped quietly through their fingers, and May arrived.
The cherry blossoms outside the classroom windows had long since fallen, replaced by lush green leaves that filled the trees.
A month wasn’t particularly long.
But for Sakuragi Hanamichi, it had been far more fulfilling than the aimless days he’d spent drifting through life before.
Every day after school, he went straight to Basketball Club practice without fail.
A thousand shots.
Dribbling suicides.
Box-out drills.
Rebounding practice.
Every day, Teacher Takeda increased the intensity of his training program, and every day, Sakuragi gritted his teeth and completed every last exercise.
The strange dream never stopped, either.
Almost every night, he dreamed of the short player named Yuki Kawamura.
Sometimes the dream took place in an empty practice gym.
Other times, it was inside a massive arena packed with spectators.
Kawamura dribbled, passed, shot, and moved without the ball.
Every movement seemed engraved into Sakuragi’s mind.
When he woke up, he could remember every detail with astonishing clarity.
Then, during practice, he would unconsciously imitate everything he had seen in those dreams.
When he dribbled, his fingers naturally adopted Kawamura’s sticky ball-handling technique.
His palm floated above the ball while only his fingertips controlled it, making the basketball feel as though it were tied to his hand by an invisible string.
A month ago, he had to keep his eyes glued to the ball whenever he dribbled.
Now, he could look straight ahead while the ball obediently followed beside him.
Traveling?
That was ancient history.
His footwork had become clean and crisp, so much so that even Teacher Takeda couldn’t find anything to criticize.
The thousand shots he forced himself through every day were paying off as well.
His mid-range jumper was finally beginning to look legitimate.
Catch at the free-throw line.
Jump.
Release.
The crisp swish of the ball dropping cleanly through the net sounded better than any music.
Of course, he didn’t make every shot.
His shooting percentage hovered around forty to fifty percent.
But for someone who, just a month earlier, couldn’t even hit the rim, that rate of improvement was nothing short of miraculous.
As for three-pointers…
They were still painful to watch.
He had enough strength, but his accuracy was terrible.
Sometimes the ball slammed into the front of the rim.
Sometimes it sailed completely over the backboard.
Teacher Takeda told him that three-point shooting was something guards specialized in.
“As a center, all you need is a reliable mid-range shot.” That was the position Takeda had assigned him.
The reason was simple.
He was the tallest player on the team.
At 186 centimeters, he stood taller than Oda.
His wingspan stretched nearly 195 centimeters, and his massive hands could palm a basketball with ease.
Teacher Takeda even gave him private instruction, teaching him how to establish position, fight for rebounds, and finish around the basket.
Lower his hips.
Seal the defender behind him.
Call for the ball.
Spin.
Jump.
Lay it in.
He had repeated that sequence hundreds of times until it became as natural as breathing.
But not everyone on the team was happy to see the red-haired rookie getting stronger by the day.
Recently, Oda Tatsumasa had grown noticeably quieter.
During practice, his eyes would often drift toward the other end of the court.
There, Teacher Takeda was bent over, correcting Sakuragi’s box-out technique.
One hand rested against Sakuragi’s waist while the other pointed toward his footwork.
“Lower your hips a little more.
That’s it.” “Use your body to seal him off.
You don’t need to turn around and look at your defender.” Sakuragi listened carefully, nodding as sweat dripped from his chin onto the hardwood floor.
Teacher Takeda hadn’t always been like this.
Before Sakuragi joined the team, the coach had devoted most of his attention to Oda.
He designed his training.
Corrected his shooting form.
Taught him how to captain the team.
Oda had been the ace.
The centerpiece.
The player Teacher Takeda valued most.
But now…
The name Takeda called most often was…
“Sakuragi!” “Sakuragi!
Rebound!” “Sakuragi!
Box him out!” “Sakuragi!
One more set!” Oda couldn’t quite describe the feeling.
It was sour.
Heavy.
Like biting into an unripe persimmon.
He knew he shouldn’t feel this way.
Sakuragi truly trained harder than anyone else.
His improvement was undeniably astonishing.
Naturally, the coach would spend more time developing him.
But…
He still couldn’t help feeling irritated.
One afternoon in May, the white sunlight blazed over the school grounds.
By coincidence, Class 3 and Class 6 had P.E.
together again.
That day’s lesson happened to be basketball.
The instructor was a young P.E.
teacher named Yamamoto.
He had only transferred to Wakou Middle School less than a year earlier.
His hair was cut short, a whistle hung around his neck, and he stood in the middle of the court before blowing two sharp blasts.
“Alright!” “Class 3 versus Class 6.” “A twenty-minute half-court game.” The moment he finished speaking, Oda stepped out from Class 3’s lineup.
He walked straight toward Class 6 and stopped in front of Sakuragi.
“Sakuragi.” His voice wasn’t loud, but everyone nearby heard him.
“Do you dare play me?” Sakuragi blinked.
“You’ll lead Class 6.” “I’ll lead Class 3.” Oda lifted his chin slightly, an uncommon sharpness shining in his eyes.
“Let’s see who’s stronger.” Before Sakuragi could answer, Takamiya Nozomi shouted first.
“Of course he’ll play!” He had no idea where Takamiya had popped out from, but his booming voice echoed across half the field.
Ohkusu immediately chimed in.
“If you don’t accept, you’re not a man!” Noma was even more direct.
He slapped Sakuragi squarely on the back.
“Hanamichi!
Crush him!” The three of them egged him on one after another, practically vibrating with excitement.
Watching drama unfold was their greatest talent.
Listening to his friends stir things up, Sakuragi looked across at Oda.
“Sure.” After more than a month of relentless basic training, he had been itching to test his own strength.
Teacher Yamamoto looked from Oda to Sakuragi.
Knowing both boys belonged to the Basketball Club, he blew his whistle once to test it.
“Alright.” “I’ll referee.” “Both teams, get ready.” Class 3 fielded Oda along with four boys who regularly played basketball together.
Each of them looked eager for the match.
Class 6, on the other hand…
Looked rather pitiful.
Aside from Sakuragi, everyone else had been hastily recruited to make up the numbers.
They understood the basics of basketball, but that was about it.
Before long, a crowd gathered outside the chain-link fence surrounding the court.
Most of them…
Were girls.
And most of those girls…
Were Oda’s admirers.
“Oda-kun…!” “Good luck!” “Go, Class 3!” “Oda-kun is the best!” Cheering echoed continuously across the court.
Standing near center court, Sakuragi glanced toward the girls outside the fence.
Every single one of them…
Was looking at Oda.
A thought drifted through his mind.
Once I beat Oda…
All those girls will stop cheering for him…
…and start looking at me instead.
Teacher Yamamoto walked to center court, balancing the basketball in one hand.
He glanced at Oda.
Then at Sakuragi.
“Ready?” Oda bent his knees slightly and lowered his center of gravity.
His eyes never left the basketball.
His vertical leap wasn’t the best on the Basketball Club, but his reactions were quick, and his timing on jump balls was excellent.
He almost never lost one.
Across from him, Sakuragi bent his knees and slowly raised both arms.
His eyes locked firmly onto the basketball in the teacher’s hand.
For a brief moment…
The playground fell silent.
A warm early-summer breeze swept across the court, carrying a wave of heat and stirring a small cloud of dust.
The girls outside the fence stopped shouting.
Even the boys watching from the sidelines fell quiet.
Every gaze focused on the two figures standing inside the center circle.
Teacher Yamamoto took a deep breath.
With a flick of his wrist…
He tossed the ball high into the air.
The orange basketball spun brilliantly beneath the sunlight.
It climbed…
Higher…
Higher…
Then, for the briefest instant— It paused at its peak.
Before beginning its descent.
Oda exploded off the ground.
His body shot upward like a spring.
His arm fully extended.
His fingertips reached toward the ball.
But from the corner of his eye…
A flash of red had already risen to his own eye level.
And it kept climbing.
Past his head.
Past the highest point his fingertips could ever reach.
Sakuragi Hanamichi stretched his entire body to its absolute limit in midair.
His right arm extended high above him.
His fingers spread wide.
At the highest point of the ball’s arc…
He seized it firmly with one hand.
His hand stood nearly half a meter higher than Oda’s.
The basketball seemed magnetically attached to his palm.
It didn’t budge in the slightest.
Then— He landed.
Boom.
Both feet struck the ground simultaneously with a heavy, powerful thud.
A ring of dust billowed around his shoes.
“Holy crap…” Takamiya’s mouth fell open into a perfect O.
“Hanamichi jumped so high…” Ohkusu craned his neck until it nearly hurt.
Noma said nothing.
The blade of grass hanging from his mouth silently dropped to the ground.
Outside the fence, the girls collectively fell silent for a heartbeat.
Then an even louder chorus of excited voices erupted.
Only this time…
The name they were shouting had changed.
“Who was that…?!” “He jumped so high!” “The red-haired guy!” “That’s Sakuragi Hanamichi from Class 6!” “He actually jumped higher than Oda-kun!”