The whistle echoed through the gym, snapping the players into motion.
"Full court. Five-on-five," Kobayashi called, his tone sharp but relaxed as ever. He twirled the ball lazily in his hands before tossing it back to himself. "Play hard. Play smart. Show us you deserve to be here."
Beside him, Rin Tohsaka stood like a statue, her clipboard tucked under her arm, her sharp blue eyes scanning the teams like a predator. "We're watching everything," she added coldly. "Offense, defense, movement. If you're just here to look busy, leave now."
Taro stepped onto the court with his team. He quickly assessed the situation—his teammates weren't terrible, but they weren't great either. The point guard dribbled nervously during warmups, his control shaky, while the forwards seemed active but directionless. No one stood out.
Across the gym, Rukawa looked like he was built for this moment. He stretched lazily at the wing, his cold blue gaze scanning the court, already sizing up his prey. He moved like he belonged there—like this was his natural habitat.
Watari hovered near midcourt, spinning the ball between his hands, cracking a joke to one of his teammates. But even from a distance, Taro could see the tension hiding beneath his easy grin.
This is going to be a long game, Taro thought as he rolled his shoulders, planting his feet firmly.
The whistle blew.
The scrimmage began.
The opposing team started with the ball.
It took them less than ten seconds to get it into Rukawa's hands. Rukawa wasted no time.
The moment he caught it, he attacked.
His first step was lightning quick. Low, fast, and controlled. The defender in front of him scrambled to keep up, but Rukawa was already past him, his dribble snapping crisply against the hardwood.
Taro rotated from the paint to cut him off, planting his feet near the rim, but it was too late.
Rukawa twisted mid-air, his body contorting effortlessly as he switched hands and scooped the ball off the glass with a perfect reverse layup.
Swish.
"Damn," someone whispered from the sideline.
Rukawa landed lightly, jogging back to defense with his usual icy calm. It was as if the effort didn't even touch him, but Taro could see it: Rukawa's breaths were sharper than he let on. His movements, while dazzling, carried a weight like he wasn't used to playing this way.
On the next possession, Taro sealed his defender under the basket with ease, his broad frame carving out space in the paint.
"Here!" he barked, raising his hand high.
The point guard froze for a second, staring at Taro like he wasn't sure if passing was a good idea. After a beat, he sent a lazy lob inside. Taro caught it easily, feeling the smaller defender digging uselessly into his back.
Too light.
He backed down with deliberate steps, pivoted smoothly, and rose into a soft hook shot. The ball arced high, spinning perfectly off his fingertips before dropping cleanly through the net.
Simple. Efficient.
Taro jogged back on defense, rolling his shoulders as his focus sharpened.
But over the next few possessions, his patience started to crack.
"Again," Taro muttered, resetting on defense.
Taro had called for the ball again at the elbow this time.
"Ball!" he shouted, clapping his hands.
The point guard glanced at him, hesitated, and then swung the ball to the shooting guard on the perimeter instead.
Taro shrugged before moving to the free throw line. He stood there wide open but his teammates refused to see it. Instead, they launched panicked drives into traffic or forced awkward jumpers.
Each time the shots bricked, Taro was there, snatching rebounds like a magnet to the ball. He put back misses with quick layups or soft tip-ins, his touch near perfect.
But his frustration simmered.
"They think I'm just here to rebound and score under the basket" Taro thought, his jaw clenching.
Meanwhile, Watari was unraveling.
He had flashes—moments where his rhythm shone, and the ball looked glued to his hands. On one possession, he shook his defender clean with a slick crossover, creating a clear lane to the rim.
But instead of finishing it or passing to a teammate, he hesitated before throwing up a rushed floater, hitting the back rim and bouncing harmlessly away.
"Come on, man!" his teammate groaned, throwing up his arms.
Watari's grin was tight as he jogged back, tension flickering across his face. He was trying too hard, second-guessing himself with every move.
Rin and Kobayashi POV
Kobayashi leaned back lazily in his chair behind the scorer's table, arms crossed as his sharp eyes surveyed the court. The scrimmage was sloppy in places, but flashes of real potential shone through. He tilted his head toward Rin, who sat beside him, pen poised above her clipboard.
"Watari," Kobayashi muttered, nodding toward the smaller point guard dancing near the top of the key. "Kid's got rhythm, but his focus is all over the place. If he locks in and learns how to find better passes"
Rin finished the thought without looking up. "He'd be a good weapon."
Watari, despite his earlier struggles, had a natural feel for the game. The ball moved smoothly between his hands, his dribble tight and fluid as he probed for openings. His footwork was light, almost playful, like he was moving to music no one else could hear.
"Look at him," Kobayashi added, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "He sees the gaps. He just doesn't know what to do with them."
On the next possession, Watari brought the ball up for his team, his expression more determined than before. He tried to pass the ball to Rukawa but quickly realized that he wasn't open since the opposisng team had started doubling him, Watari didn't hesitate.
He saw his opening and attacked.
Watari's dribble was sharp, weaving between defenders as he slipped into the lane. His movements were clean controlled at first, until the pressure caught up to him. The help defense rotated late, forcing Watari to adjust mid-stride.
Instead of finishing strong, he shot a jumper
Clang.
The ball bounced hard off the rim.
"Damn it," Watari muttered under his breath, already jogging back on defense, his shoulders tight with frustration.
The rebound didn't even touch the floor. Taro snatched it cleanly with both hands, his broad frame towering over everyone else in the paint. His teammates turned and sprinted up the court, expecting him to dish it off to the point guard like always.
He didn't.
Taro turned, cradling the ball, and started dribbling up the court himself.
The gym paused.
"Wait… what's he doing?" someone whispered.
Kobayashi straightened, his casual posture stiffening slightly as he watched Taro move. "He's bringing it up?"
Rin's pen froze mid-air, her sharp blue eyes narrowing on Taro.
The big man's dribble wasn't flashy, but it was steady—clean and deliberate, the ball bouncing low to the ground as he advanced past half-court. The murmurs spread quickly across the gym as players, teammates, and opponents alike turned to stare.
"Taro's dribbling?"
"He's a center!"
The opposing team scrambled to react, their defenders hesitating as they adjusted to the sight of a 193-centimeter giant handling the ball with confidence. A guard stepped up to challenge him near the three-point line, a grin spreading across his face as if he expected an easy steal.
"Bad idea," Kobayashi muttered, a grin of his own tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Taro's amber eyes scanned the floor in real time. He baited the defender with a glance toward the corner, drawing him just slightly off-balance, then rifled a no-look bounce pass through the gap. The ball threaded perfectly between two defenders and landed cleanly in the hands of his teammate, lazily cutting towards the rim.
The kid nearly fumbled it, stunned, before gathering himself and putting the ball up for an uncontested layup.
Swish.
The sound of the net snapping was almost drowned out by the murmurs rippling through the gym.
"Did he just…?"
"Where did that pass come from?"
"Is he really a center?"
Kobayashi barked out a short laugh, clapping his hands together once. "That's insane," he said, his tone carrying a mixture of amusement and respect. "Who knew the big guy had post-moves and vision?"
Rin didn't laugh. Her eyes stayed locked on Taro as he jogged back on defense, his broad frame moving with an unexpected calm, like this was something he did every day.
"He's not just handling the ball," Rin said, her voice cool but measured. "He's reading the game."
Kobayashi turned toward her, eyebrows raised. "You think so?"
"Did you see that pass?" Rin replied, tapping her clipboard lightly. "He baited the defense perfectly looked off the help and hit the cutter in stride. That's not something you teach."
Kobayashi tilted his head, considering it. "Court vision like that? That's scary for someone his size."
Rin jotted something down, underlining Taro's name with sharp, deliberate strokes. "If they gave him the ball more, they'd be winning by now."
Kobayashi grinned. "Doesn't matter. They'll figure it out eventually. He's making it impossible not to."
The ball swung to Rukawa.
He caught it with the ease of someone who belonged on the court, his cold blue eyes narrowing like a predator locking onto its prey. His defender tensed, stepping forward to cut off his space, but Rukawa didn't hesitate.
The jab step came—sharp, precise. It froze his man instantly.
Then he exploded.
His first step was lightning, his dribble tight and low as he surged forward. The defender scrambled to recover, his sneakers squeaking uselessly against the polished floor.
Two dribbles and Rukawa was already in the paint.
The help defense collapsed, two players lunging to meet him at the rim. His teammate stood wide open on the three-point line, hands raised in desperation, but Rukawa didn't look. Didn't see him.
He twisted in midair, contorting his body awkwardly, forcing the shot up with his off-hand.
Clang.
The ball rattled off the backboard and rimmed out, bouncing away.
Rukawa landed lightly, his face an unreadable mask, but his fists clenched tight at his sides, betraying his frustration.
Kobayashi leaned forward, resting his elbows on the scorer's table as his usual smirk faded. His sharp eyes narrowed slightly. "He's good. No doubt about that. But… what's with him?"
Rin's gaze remained locked on Rukawa. Her pen hovered motionless above the clipboard, her expression as cold as ever. "He's forcing it."
"Yeah, but look at his moves," Kobayashi muttered, tilting his head. "Most of us can't even dream of playing like that. You don't see that kind of stuff out here."
Rin exhaled softly, her tone measured. "Because he's imitating someone."
Kobayashi turned to her, interest flickering in his eyes. "Someone?"
"You know who," Rin said, her voice low but firm. "Aomine."
The name seemed to linger in the air like an invisible weight.
Daiki Aomine.
The ace of the Generation of Miracles. Everyone knew the stories the whispers of the player. Unstoppable. Unpredictable. A force of nature who made the impossible look routine, like the game itself existed just to entertain him.
Kobayashi blinked. "Wait—Aomine? From Teikō?"
Rin shifted her clipboard under her arm, her pen tapping once against its edge. "I studied him."
Kobayashi shot her a look, eyebrows raised. "Studied?"
"I collected everything I could," Rin continued, her voice steady but edged with intensity. "Footage of Teikō. Their games. Their players. They were called the best for a reason. I wanted to understand why."
Kobayashi let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "You don't miss a thing, huh?"
Rin ignored the comment, her focus unshakable. "When I showed you the tape, you saw it. Aomine didn't just play fast or reckless. He played fluid. He played streetball on the court because it was fun for him and he could.
Kobayashi nodded slowly, his gaze drifting back to the court. "And Rukawa?"
Rin's pen scratched faintly against her clipboard. "Rukawa's trying to imitate the moves but doesn't understand the essence. Aomine broke the rules because he knew when to break them. Rukawa's just pushing at full throttle every possession."
The ball swung to Rukawa again, this time on the wing. His defender tensed, preparing for the inevitable drive, but Rukawa didn't attack immediately.
Rin's pen froze mid-air.
He performed a crossover, freezing his defender just enough to create space. Instead of forcing the drive, Rukawa rose smoothly into a pull-up jumper.
Swish.
The ball snapped through the net, and for a moment, the gym was silent.
Kobayashi nodded approvingly. "That's better. Slowed down. Took the shot he should've taken."
Rin made a quick note. "He's adapting… slightly."
But just as quickly, Rukawa fell back into his pattern. The next possession, he attacked recklessly again. He barreled into the lane, ignoring an open teammate as Taro rotated over from the post. Rukawa twisted mid-air, throwing the ball towards the rim.
The shot clanged off the rim, bouncing harmlessly away.
"He's exhausting himself," Rin said quietly, the edge returning to her tone as she watched Rukawa land lightly, fists clenched tight again.
Kobayashi shook his head. "He's got all the tools, but no balance. He's trying to force himself into being Aomine, but it's not him."
Rin didn't respond immediately, her eyes flicking back across the court to Taro as he caught another rebound and passed it off to the point guard,
Taro stood planted in the paint, his broad frame unmoving as the defender pressed into his back. The ball came to him a clean, sharp pass that he caught effortlessly.
His amber eyes scanned the court, every small movement coming into focus as if he saw the game in slow motion. A forward twitched like he was about to cut, his shoulders turning slightly. Taro read it instantly.
There.
The ball snapped out of his hands a low bounce pass that zipped perfectly toward the open space on the baseline.
Except the forward didn't cut.
The pass bounced harmlessly into the corner, rolling out of bounds.
"Damn it!" someone muttered, but Taro didn't even flinch. He simply turned and jogged back on defense, his expression calm despite the burn in his legs.
The next possession, Taro grabbed an offensive rebound, snatching it cleanly above the hands of three defenders. His teammates spread out lazily on the perimeter, expecting him to go back up for the shot.
Instead, Taro spun, keeping his dribble low, and surveyed the floor. His vision locked onto a wing player moving through traffic. It wasn't a full cut, more of a lazy drift, but Taro saw the gap.
He rifled a two-handed pass over his head.
It zipped cleanly through the defense, threading between two defenders and hitting the wing player square in the chest.
Or it would have—if the kid had been ready.
The ball flew straight into the wing player's chest before rolling across the floor as the defender scooped it up and sprinted the other way.
Kobayashi let out a low whistle from the sideline, shaking his head. "They can't keep up with him."
Rin didn't respond, her gaze locked on Taro, who was already setting himself under the rim on the other end, his breath coming sharper now, his shoulders rising and falling.
Rukawa finally slowed himself down. Catching the ball near the free-throw line, he didn't force a drive this time. Instead Rukawa rose effortlessly into a smooth midrange jumper.
Swish.
The ball dropped cleanly through the net, and for a moment, the gym buzzed with faint murmurs of approval. Rukawa jogged back on defense, his face unreadable, though his sharp breaths betrayed the strain.
Taro grabbed the ball from under the rim, his chest still rising and falling heavily as he stepped out of bounds for the inbound.
His teammates started trotting up court, their heads down, already expecting another slow possession.
Taro's eyes swept the floor.
The defense was relaxed, too relaxed. One of his teammates, unknowingly, was streaking lazily up the far sideline, his defender a step behind him and not paying attention.
There it is.
Taro didn't hesitate.
He cocked the ball back with one hand, his broad frame twisting as he launched a pass, a full-court bullet that cut through the air like a missile.
The gym went quiet as the ball soared across the court, perfectly arcing over two defenders. It dropped right into the hands of the forward near the basket, the pass so sudden it startled him.
The forward stumbled, fumbled briefly, then managed to gather the ball and lay it up.
The entire gym froze for a moment, the sheer audacity of the play hanging in the air.
"What the hell was that?" someone whispered.
Kobayashi barked out a laugh, his voice breaking the silence. "A touchdown pass! You've got to be kidding me."
Rukawa brought the ball up, drawing immediate attention. His cold blue eyes narrowed as he preformed a spin-move, freezing his defender before attacking the paint. The help defense collapsed, but Rukawa ignored the open man, forcing an acrobatic layup through contact.
The ball rattled around the rim before finally rolling in.
"He doesn't trust his teammates," Rin noted quietly. "Not yet."
Kobayashi nodded. "He's trying to do everything himself. And Taro? He's doing too much for everyone else."
Rin's gaze flicked between the two players. Taro, now hunched slightly as he wiped sweat from his brow looking and exhausted, and Rukawa, standing tall despite the growing cracks in his game.
"They're opposites," Rin murmured, her pen stilling for a moment. "If Rukawa learns to play with the team, and Taro learns to up his speed…"
Kobayashi grinned, finishing the thought. "They'll be monsters."