Riku, formerly Lars, still couldn't believe what had happened earlier in the dining hall. He'd stood there, chest tight, as Hiro's words rang in his ears. Crushed by Teiko. The shame, the humiliation, the helplessness—it wasn't his, but he felt it all the same.
Something deep inside him stirred. His body felt like it was on fire, his knees bouncing involuntarily as if they had a mind of their own. The urge to move, to test this new body, was too strong to ignore. It was like a fire building inside him, growing stronger with every passing second. He needed to get out
He shot to his room, grabbed the scuffed ball from the corner, and slipped on his sneakers. Without hesitation, he stepped outside. The cold air hit him, but he barely felt it. His heart raced with anticipation. Whatever this new life was, he needed to know what it could do.
Riku didn't know where he was going. He hadn't thought about it. His legs just moved. Step after step, they carried him forward as if they already had a destination in mind. The steady rhythm of the basketball bouncing at his side seemed to guide him, pulling him through the quiet morning streets. He didn't even realize where he was headed until the faint sound of sneakers squeaking and a ball hitting the pavement reached his ears.
A basketball court.
His feet stopped at the edge of a full-sized court, two hoops standing tall on either side. The asphalt was cracked, and the paint on the lines was faded, but it didn't matter. Five boys were already there, their voices loud and energetic. Two stood together, passing the ball back and forth while chatting, and the other slightly older kids practiced their shots. The ball clanged off the rim, bouncing away before someone grabbed it again.
Riku blinked, taking in the sight. He hadn't meant to come here, but somehow, his body had known where he wanted to go. It had taken him to a basketball court, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.
At 6'0, he stood taller than most middle schoolers, but his frame didn't match his height. He wasn't skinny or built—just slightly pudgy, the kind of softness that made him stand out even more. Adults passing by had already thrown him longer glances, their expressions lingering with unease. He wasn't sure if it was his height, his slightly awkward build, or the way he carried himself, but he didn't care.
"Hey, dude!" one of the younger boys called out, waving. He was tall and lanky, with dark hair falling into his eyes. Next to him, a shorter, stockier boy turned to look, raising an eyebrow. The taller boy grinned. "Perfect timing. We need one more for threes. You in?"
Riku's hands tightened on the ball, his stomach doing a little flip. It wasn't nerves—it was something else. Excitement. Anticipation. He didn't answer right away, but his legs moved on their own, carrying him onto the court before he even realized it.
"Yeah," he said simply, his voice steady despite the flutter in his chest.
The taller boy jogged over, clapping him on the back like they'd been teammates for years. "Nice. You're with me and Kenji," he said, nodding toward the stockier boy, who gave Riku a quick nod. "We're up against my older brother and his friends. Let's take them down."
Kenji smirked. "You better be good, man. They've been talking shit all morning."
Riku nodded silently, the ball settling naturally into his hands, its familiar weight grounding him. He bounced it once, twice, the rhythm clicking into place instantly. The others glanced at him, their expressions a mix of curiosity and skepticism. He caught a few quick looks at his height and slightly soft frame, but he ignored them.
His eyes shifted to the hoop. The court, the players, the ball—it all felt right. For the first time in this strange new life, he felt like he belonged. Everything else could wait. Right now, there was only basketball.
The ball was checked in, and the game began.
The older boys started with confidence, moving quickly and trying to exploit their slight speed advantage. But it didn't take long for them to realize that Riku wasn't just another kid on the court.
On their first possession, the older brother drove straight at Riku, clearly expecting to overpower him. Riku planted his feet, his body moving instinctively. The moment the boy went for the layup, Riku swatted the ball cleanly out of the air, sending it flying toward the sideline.
"Damn!" Kenji yelled, laughing. "Big guy came to play."
The older brother gave Riku a sharp look as he jogged back on defense, but Riku didn't flinch. His body felt alive, humming with energy.
On offense, Riku's dominance was immediate. His first touch came on a simple pass into the post from Kenji. The defender, a wiry kid who barely reached Riku's shoulders, tried to hold his ground, but Riku didn't even need to think. He backed the kid down with two hard dribbles, pivoted sharply, and banked in an easy shot off the glass.
1-0.
The taller boy on Riku's team clapped his hands. "That's what I'm talking about! Keep feeding him the ball!"
And they did. Every time Riku got the ball, it was the same story. Whether it was a drop step, a spin move, or a pump fake to get his defender in the air and later a step-through, Riku's footwork was too clean, too practiced. Every basket came effortlessly, and the older boys had no answer.
"Yo, double him!" one of the older boys yelled after Riku bulldozed his way through two defenders for a layup that made it 8-2.
The double team came, but it didn't matter. When two players tried to crowd him in the post, Riku used his wide frame to create space. He faked a spin one way, pivoted the other, and powered through both defenders, laying the ball in off the backboard.
The older brother cursed under his breath as they jogged back on offense. "How the hell is he doing this?"
By the midpoint of the game, the score was 13-4. Riku's opponents were visibly frustrated. Every time they drove into the paint, Riku was there, either swiping the ball cleanly or contesting shots so aggressively that they couldn't get anything easy.
On one play, the older brother tried a pull-up jumper just outside the free-throw line. Riku had already seen it coming. He stepped forward, rising just in time to get a fingertip on the ball. It clanged off the rim, and Riku grabbed the rebound, muscling past two opponents in the process.
He didn't hesitate, taking it straight back into the post. His defender braced for impact, but Riku didn't stop. He lowered his shoulder, spun hard, and dropped in a hook shot that barely touched the rim before falling through.
"Too easy!" Kenji shouted, throwing his arms in the air.
The older boys managed to close the gap slightly as the game dragged on. Riku's legs started to feel heavy, his breaths coming quicker. His body was obviously not used to the amount of pressure he was placing on it,
At 18-11, one of the older boys managed to poke the ball loose as Riku tried to spin past him. "Finally!" the boy yelled, sprinting toward the other end of the court.
Riku didn't give up. He turned and chased him down, his tired legs pushing harder than he thought possible. As the boy went up for the layup, Riku swatted the ball against the backboard with a loud smack. The older brother on the opponents team grabbed the loose ball and pointed to Riku.
"DUDE WHAT ARE YOU!" he yelled.
Riku's final basket was pure bully-ball. His defender, drenched in sweat, leaned on him heavily as Riku caught the ball in the post. The older boy tried to hold his ground, but Riku didn't stop. He backed him down relentlessly, his muscles screaming with each step, until he was directly under the hoop. With one last powerful pivot, Riku dropped in the ball.
21-11. Game over.