"Um, excuse me, do you like basketball?"
"I love it. Absolutely love it."
"Then why not join the basketball club? Playing basketball can help you grow taller, get stronger, and make lots of friends!"
"Sure, why not?"
Seeing Shirayama agree so readily, Haruko's mood instantly brightened.
After all, this meant she'd get to see him regularly in the basketball club.
"Here's the application form."
Shirayama accepted the form with one hand, while the other handed Haruko a small wooden stick.
"Thanks."
Haruko stared blankly at the stick.
For a moment, she wondered what it was.
It turned out to be a popsicle stick.
She suddenly realized that Shirayama had left out half of his sentence—"Could you throw this away for me?"
'Who even does that?!'
Haruko, who had always been pampered and looked after, had never encountered someone who'd ask her to throw away trash the first time they met.
And the worst part?
She'd been craving a popsicle.
A cold, refreshing popsicle,
Not a bare, lifeless stick!
"Hmph! How rude! And to think I was just about to (consider liking him)…"
As she walked toward the trash can, Haruko puffed her cheeks, her face burning—not from the heat but from annoyance.
But just as she was about to toss the stick, her eyes caught a few small words.
[Try Again for Another One!]
Seeing the winning message, Haruko's irritation melted away instantly.
'COOL! This is super cool!'
It felt like an ice bucket challenge on a scorching summer day—a bucket of ice water poured over her, cooling her to the core.
This moment was better than eating a hundred popsicles.
And it was all thanks to that blue-haired boy.
"This… this is his gift to me!"
Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and her heart raced wildly.
Thump, thump, thump…
That was the feeling of falling for someone.
But when Haruko turned to look for him, the adorable boy was nowhere to be found.
The only thing left behind was the neat handwriting on the application form—Shirayama.
"So, his name is Shirayama?"
"What a lovely name."
"Shirayama… Shirayama… Shirayama…"
Clutching the popsicle stick, Haruko softly repeated his name several times.
At that moment, a gentle voice sounded beside her.
"Are you calling me?"
The voice was soft and warm, but it startled Haruko, making her freeze in place.
"Ah!"
When she turned and saw Shirayama with his blue hair, her cheeks flushed red.
"Huh? Why are you back?"
"Actually, I never left."
Shirayama had been under the blue sunshade at the recruitment booth the entire time.
"You never left?"
Haruko blinked.
She distinctly remembered there being no one there just moments ago.
'Was I imagining things?'
She shook her head, then asked, "Shirayama-san, do you know how to play basketball?"
Normally, evaluating basketball skills was the responsibility of her brother, Akagi Takenori, or Ayako.
But Shirayama was just too cute for Haruko to resist stepping in.
"Not really."
Shirayama admitted honestly. In his previous life, he had been a complete beginner, someone who only enjoyed watching Kuroko no Basket but didn't know how to play.
Instead of being disappointed, Haruko seemed even more enthusiastic.
"It's okay! I can teach you. Let's go!"
Without hesitation, she grabbed Shirayama's hand and led him toward the gymnasium.
This wasn't just a basketball evaluation anymore—it had turned into a personal lesson!
Shirayama didn't refuse Haruko's kindness.
He was eager to test his current abilities anyway.
Besides, Haruko's hand was small, soft, and warm.
It stirred something in Shirayama's heart.
Here he was, a grown man nearing his thirties, getting flustered over a high school girl.
In that moment, Shirayama was reminded of his school days from his past life.
Back then, he could only admire the school goddess from afar.
But now, the slam dunk goddess was right by his side, holding his hand.
"Living a second life is truly amazing," he thought.
In the gymnasium, Haruko held a basketball in her arms, standing formally.
"I'm Akagi Haruko. Shirayama-san, I'll be teaching you how to play basketball."
"Alright. I'll be in your care, Haruko-sensei."
Sensei?
Hearing that title made Haruko's cheeks turn red, but deep down, she was delighted.
"Shirayama-san, I'm a very strict teacher, so you'd better learn properly!"
"Yes, yes."
Haruko-sensei's basketball lesson began in earnest.
Haruko had played basketball during middle school, though she hadn't played much since starting high school.
Her athletic ability wasn't outstanding, and her petite frame—just over 150 cm tall—was a major disadvantage.
Still, she had a wealth of basketball knowledge.
"The origin of basketball…"
Like a kindergarten teacher explaining to a child, she started from the basics, covering everything in detail.
The history.
The rules.
The fundamentals.
Haruko explained everything thoroughly to Shirayama, who, as a beginner, listened intently.
Under Haruko-sensei's guidance, Shirayama experienced his first comprehensive introduction to basketball.
"Next, we'll start practicing basic basketball techniques…"