The morning sun filtered weakly through the windows of Seisen High's gym as the team gathered for their first practice under Yukito's leadership. The old wood floors creaked under their feet, and the air was thick with tension. The players were nervous, unsure of what to expect, but Yukito had no intention of making things easy for them.
"Listen up," Yukito barked, standing at the center of the court, his voice slicing through the unease. His gaze was cold and unyielding. "This is your last chance to leave. If you're not ready to break yourselves to win, walk out now."
No one moved. They couldn't tell if it was defiance or fear that kept them rooted in place, but Yukito didn't care. He wasn't here to coddle them.
"Good," he continued, pacing slowly as he spoke. "From now on, you follow my orders. No questions, no complaints. If you want to survive on this team, you'll learn to push beyond your limits—because out there, no one cares about your excuses."
Yukito motioned to the far side of the gym, where a set of old, unused weight racks and resistance equipment lay covered in dust. "Today, we're not playing basketball. Today, we're breaking every weakness out of your bodies. If you're too soft, too slow, too weak, you'll never win. So, we fix that first."
The players looked at one another uneasily. This wasn't what they had expected. They thought they were here to play basketball, not run through military-grade conditioning.
Yukito didn't wait for objections. "Miyazaki, you're first."
Sora smirked, stepping forward. He knew this was coming. Unlike the others, he relished the challenge. Physical pain was something he understood well—something that didn't scare him. He grabbed the weighted ropes and began the drill without hesitation, muscles tensing with each heavy swing. The rhythmic crack of the ropes against the floor echoed in the gym.
One by one, the other players followed suit. They struggled at first, unused to the grueling nature of Yukito's drills. Some of them collapsed halfway through, gasping for breath, but Yukito's voice was relentless, pushing them beyond their comfort zones.
"Get up!" Yukito shouted at one of the players who had fallen. "You think your opponents are going to wait for you to catch your breath? They'll step over you without a second thought. Again!"
The player, drenched in sweat, pulled himself up, wobbling on unsteady legs. The entire gym felt like a war zone, the air filled with the sound of strained breathing and bodies hitting the floor. But Yukito never wavered. He needed to see how far each of them could be pushed before they broke.
Hours passed, and by the end of the session, the team was left in a heap of exhaustion on the floor. Their faces were pale, their limbs shaking, but none of them had quit. Yukito stood over them, silent for a long moment.
"Good," he finally said, his voice softer now, but no less intense. "You survived. That's the first step."
Sora, breathing heavily but still standing, met Yukito's gaze. There was something in his eyes—respect, maybe, or perhaps just recognition. Yukito had done what no one else had dared to do: pushed him beyond what he thought was possible.
But Yukito wasn't done. "Tomorrow, we face Hikawa High. They're weak, but that doesn't mean we can afford to be careless. We will break them before they break us."
He turned away, signaling the end of the session. "Rest while you can. Tomorrow, it begins."
That night, Yukito walked home through the quiet streets, his mind already on the game ahead. Hikawa High was a small school with an unremarkable basketball team—easy prey for what Yukito had in mind. This game wasn't about winning; it was about sending a message.
As he reached his apartment, Yukito's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and saw a message from an unknown number.
"Still chasing ghosts, Aizawa? They've already forgotten you."
Yukito's hand tightened around the phone, his jaw clenching. He knew exactly who it was—one of the Phantom Five, trying to bait him. But Yukito wouldn't be shaken. He stared at the message for a long moment before deleting it without replying.
The Phantom Five may have forgotten him, but soon, they would remember. They would remember everything.