The bleachers were empty, the waves crashing beneath the cliffside school echoing like distant drums. Hoshimori High's basketball court, usually quiet and forgotten, now seemed charged, electric with anticipation. Today was the day—they were facing Seiryu Academy.
Kai Ryuusei dribbled at half-court, feeling the familiar rhythm steady him, but tension prickled his skin.
"How did we even get this scrimmage?" Toma Hayashi muttered, hands resting on his knees, voice barely audible.
"It's rare for Seiryu Academy to play outsiders," Mio Kanzaki added, adjusting his wristband nervously. "Coach said… they heard about us somehow. Some rumor, a few impressive plays at the local tournaments or scrimmages with other schools. They agreed to this match to test our skill."
Daichi Kurogane's eyes narrowed, fists tightening around the ball. "So… they're expecting a joke of a team, and we're supposed to prove we're not one. Great."
Coach Sakamoto stepped forward, his calm presence cutting through the rising tension. "This isn't just about skill. This is a chance to see what you're made of. Seiryu Academy doesn't play casually. Every move will be precise, every player trained to perfection. That's exactly why you need this."
Kai nodded, letting the words sink in. "Then we don't just play. We learn. We adapt."
Daichi grunted. "Learn? We train. We win—or we die trying."
Mio hesitated. "I… I just don't want us to embarrass ourselves…"
Kai's gaze was firm. "None of us are here to embarrass ourselves. Not if we move as a team. We've seen what we can do together. Now we see how far we have to go."
The sun dipped lower, the court bathed in a golden glow. The Azure Dragons arrived shortly after, walking onto the court with a confidence that made the air feel heavy. Suki Tanaka, number 4, his aura calm and cold, surveyed Hoshimori High like a predator assessing prey. Fuji Nakamura, looming in the post, exuded dominance and precision in every movement. Behind them, Kenta Arashi, Riku Hoshino, and Hayato Ishikawa completed the lineup, a perfect blend of skill and intimidation.
Kai's hands tightened around the ball. "They're strong. But so are we. Focus, team. Flow with the court. Trust each other."
Daichi cracked his knuckles, muscles coiling. "Let's see if we can even scratch them."
Mio swallowed, taking a deep breath. "We've got to try."
Toma's voice was quiet, steadying himself. "We won't fall apart… not now."
The tip-off began, chaotic and intense. Kenta Arashi's Storm Vision predicted Kai's Sky Step, forcing the first possession into a trap. The court seemed to shrink under Suki's Absolute Defense; Kai felt the subtle resistance slowing his movements. A fast pass to Mio almost went intercepted.
"Move!" Kai shouted, spinning past a defender, "Don't give them the rhythm!"
Mio froze, Frozen Sight kicking in. "I… I can't see the lanes!"
Kai waved him over. "Trust me! Follow my rhythm!"
He threaded a perfect pass around Suki's defensive aura, giving Mio an open shot. But Fuji leapt from the post with uncanny speed, intercepting the ball with the momentum-altering spin of The Sickle.
"Not so fast!" Fuji smirked, tossing the ball back to Kenta.
Daichi roared, charging into the paint with Kurogane Drive, intent on breaking through Fuji. But the Sickle wasn't just a shot—it manipulated force and timing. The collision barely rattled Fuji; he sidestepped and spun the ball to Hayato Ishikawa, who slammed it down with Gravity Slam, shaking the court.
"Ugh!" Daichi staggered back. "They… they're unreal!"
Toma's knees trembled under the pressure, Iron Anchor barely holding against Hayato's slam. "I… I can't…" he muttered, frozen mid-rebound.
Kai landed softly and scanned the team. "Everyone! Focus! Don't let them dictate the court!"
They tried to coordinate. Kai's Silent Thread aligned passes and spacing, Mio's Frozen Sight helped him find openings, Daichi used brute force to drive lanes, and Toma tried to reclaim dominance under the basket. For brief flashes, it worked—they scored, they moved as a unit. But each success was met by Seiryu Academy's superior synergy.
Suki stalked the perimeter, Absolute Defense pushing Kai and Mio off rhythm. "Nice try… but stop moving before you think," he said calmly, intercepting another pass.
Fuji dominated the paint, every attempt to attack blocked or redirected. "The Sickle cuts through," he called, spinning the ball like a blade through the defense.
By halftime, Hoshimori High was down by nearly twenty points. Exhaustion and frustration weighed on them. The team huddled together.
"We can't keep playing like this," Mio panted, wiping sweat from his brow. "Their abilities… they're too perfect."
Daichi slammed a fist against the wall. "No! We're not perfect either. We just… haven't figured out how to work together yet!"
Toma leaned against the wall, hands trembling. "I… I freeze under pressure. Every time… I'm holding the team back."
Kai shook his head firmly. "No. We're just not synced yet. That's all. We've seen what they can do. Now we know what we're missing. This isn't a failure—it's a lesson."
Daichi scowled but nodded. "Lesson, huh? Fine. But next time… next time, they won't walk all over us."
The second half was more controlled, with Hoshimori High attempting team combos. Kai threaded passes to Mio, who finally took open shots, Daichi and Toma tried coordinated drives into the paint—but every move was countered. Kenta Arashi's Storm Vision predicted their plays, Suki's Absolute Defense kept the perimeter locked, Fuji's Sickle shredded interior attacks, and Hayato's Gravity Slam punished aggressive moves.
The final buzzer sounded. Hoshimori High had lost decisively.
Silence fell over the court, heavy but not broken. Kai picked up the ball and bounced it once, letting the rhythm settle. "We lost… but we saw their strategy. We saw their strength. That's something to build on."
Mio sank to the floor, exhausted. "I… I didn't play well enough."
Toma looked down, voice quiet. "Me neither…"
Daichi kicked the floor, frustration flashing across his face. "We've got a long way to go. A long way."
Coach Sakamoto stepped forward, placing a hand on Kai's shoulder. "Remember this feeling. Losing hurts, but it's the first step to growth. You know your weaknesses now. Build on them. Trust each other. The next scrimmage… you'll be different."
Kai nodded, heart pounding, eyes scanning the court. He could see it—the path forward. They weren't strong yet, not against teams like Seiryu Academy, but they were awakening.
The court beneath their feet felt alive, waiting. Waiting for them to rise.
And for the first time, Hoshimori High knew exactly what they had to become.