The following afternoon, Yukito Aizawa stood at the edge of Seisen High's dilapidated outdoor basketball court, observing the disorganized chaos that passed for practice. The team was a joke—unfocused, undisciplined, and hopelessly outmatched in every sense. But that's exactly what Yukito wanted: a clean slate to mold into something dangerous.
Sora Miyazaki appeared at the gate, his usual scowl plastered across his face. He had decided to show up, though Yukito knew better than to think it was because he was swayed by words. Sora wanted power, and Yukito offered him a way to get it. The terms didn't matter to him—only the outcome did.
Yukito glanced at the team's current captain, Tetsuo Kamiya, a tall but lanky player who seemed more interested in his phone than the game. Tetsuo had inherited the position by default, being one of the few third-years left on the squad, but his leadership skills were non-existent. Yukito had no time for the weak.
Sora watched the practice with a grimace, hands stuffed in his pockets. "This is the team you want me to join? You can't be serious."
Yukito's eyes never left the court. "I don't care about their skill levels. That can be fixed. What matters is their mindset. Right now, they're complacent. They've given up. But under the right pressure, they'll either break or rise."
Sora snorted, folding his arms. "You think you can turn this mess into something worthwhile?"
"I don't think," Yukito replied, his tone sharp. "I know."
The whistle blew, signaling the end of practice. Players began filing off the court, most of them slouching with exhaustion. Tetsuo approached them, his tired expression brightening with forced enthusiasm when he noticed Sora standing beside Yukito.
"Hey, you're that guy, Miyazaki, right?" Tetsuo's eyes lit up. "You used to play for Minami, didn't you? You were a beast!"
Sora's expression remained cold. He didn't acknowledge the praise, only glancing briefly at Yukito.
Yukito stepped forward, his voice calm but commanding. "Starting tomorrow, I'm taking control of this team. We're not here to win games; we're here to destroy our opponents. I'm not interested in half-hearted attempts."
Tetsuo blinked, confused. "Wait, what do you mean you're taking over? I'm the captain—"
"Not anymore." Yukito's words were like ice. "You're weak. And weak leadership leads to weak teams. If you have a problem with that, feel free to challenge me for the spot. But you won't win."
Tetsuo's face reddened with anger and embarrassment. "You think you can just waltz in here and take over? Who the hell do you think you are?"
Yukito stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "I'm the one who's going to turn this team into something feared. The question is, are you going to be a part of it, or are you going to get left behind?"
For a moment, the air around them seemed to grow heavier. Tetsuo stared at Yukito, then glanced at Sora, who simply watched with a bored expression. Tetsuo opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He swallowed hard and lowered his gaze, stepping back.
Yukito's eyes flicked over the rest of the team. "Anyone else have a problem with this?"
Silence. The players were too shocked, too unsure of what had just happened to protest.
"Good," Yukito said, satisfied. "Now, let's get one thing straight. We're not playing basketball. We're playing to break them. Every game, every practice is about exploiting weaknesses—ours and theirs. If you're not prepared for that, then get out now."
No one moved.
Yukito turned to Sora. "You're with me?"
Sora smirked, the faintest hint of amusement on his face. "As long as you deliver, Aizawa. I don't play for free."
Yukito nodded. "You'll get your shot. Tomorrow, we start by facing one of the weakest teams in the region. I'll make sure we're ready."
That night, Yukito sat alone in his small apartment, the only light coming from his laptop screen. On the screen were game recordings—videos of the Phantom Five during their peak. He watched them over and over, memorizing their movements, their plays, their strengths and flaws.
His mind was calculating, analyzing every detail. The Phantom Five had betrayed him, cast him aside like he was nothing. But they would pay for it. He would build his team from the ashes, and with it, he would destroy everything they had built.
Yukito leaned back in his chair, eyes still fixed on the screen. Sora was the first piece of the puzzle, but he needed more. He needed players who understood pain, who had tasted failure and wanted revenge as much as he did.
Because in the end, this wasn't about winning basketball games. It was about breaking the Phantom Five, one by one.