The bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. At the back of the classroom, Taro sat by the window, lazily leaning on one arm while his other hand moved a pen across a notebook. His broad frame looked as relaxed as ever, but it was clear he'd been scribbling something down in his usual unhurried manner. The homework they'd just been assigned was halfway finished, his calm efficiency giving the impression that he'd hardly tried.
At the front of the room, Watari stuffed his books into his bag with exaggerated frustration, throwing a glance back at Taro. "You're doing the homework now? That stuff was actually hard. How'd you even…?"
Taro didn't look up as he capped his pen and closed his notebook with the same calm efficiency he did everything. "So it's done," he replied simply, sliding his things into his bag without a hint of struggle.
Watari groaned, slinging his bag over his shoulder, his annoyance bubbling under the surface. How is this guy, who doesn't even understand basic social norms, finishing it like it's nothing? He shook his head in disbelief, muttering to himself as he turned toward the door.
Standing, Taro stretched lazily, his movements unhurried as he slung his bag over his shoulder. "Let's go," he said, his voice calm but firm.
Watari blinked. "Go? Where?"
"To get Rukawa," Taro replied, already heading for the door.
Watari let out a dramatic sigh, trailing after him. "Do we really have to? He's just going to fall asleep during practice anyway."
Taro gave him a sidelong glance, his amber eyes glinting faintly with amusement. "No, he only sleeps through everything except basketball."
Watari frowned, skepticism all over his face. "Right. Sure. Let's go fetch Sleeping Beauty."
When they reached the classroom, Watari peeked through the window, his face twisting in disbelief.
"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, pressing his forehead against the glass. "He's still asleep!"
Inside, Rukawa was slumped over his desk, his head buried in an open notebook. The faint outline of words smeared under his cheek suggested he'd at least attempted to focus in class before promptly surrendering to sleep. His bag was neatly placed beside him, untouched, like it had been set up by someone preparing for the day.
Taro opened the door without hesitation, stepping inside with his usual unbothered demeanor. A few remaining students glanced up curiously, their attention quickly locking onto the scene unfolding.
Taro walked straight to Rukawa's desk, nudging his shoulder lightly. "Rukawa. Practice."
No response.
He nudged again, firmer this time. "Let's go. Practice is starting."
For a moment, Rukawa remained completely still, as if the words had passed through him. But then, without warning, he sat up in one fluid motion. His messy black hair fell perfectly into place, and his half-lidded blue eyes sharpened with an intensity that seemed entirely at odds with the drool on his notebook.
The shift was immediate and dramatic. A few girls in the room gasped quietly, their faces reddening as they exchanged whispered comments.
"He's so cool…" one muttered, her blush deepening.
Watari, still standing in the doorway, threw up his hands in exasperation. "Oh, come on! He was drooling like a toddler two seconds ago!"
Rukawa ignored the commotion entirely. With a calm precision, he grabbed a tissue from his bag, wiped his chin, and swiped the notebook closed in one smooth motion.
"Practice?" he asked evenly, his tone as if he hadn't been unconscious moments before.
Taro nodded. "Yeah."
Rukawa slung his bag over one shoulder and stood, stretching once before heading toward the door. His relaxed stride and sharp gaze gave the impression he had been preparing for this moment all day.
Taro tilted his head slightly as he watched Rukawa leave. "Well, he tried, at least."
Watari let out a long, exaggerated groan. "This is ridiculous. He drools all over his notebook and still gets treated like some kind of prince!"
"Sounds like you're just jealous of him" Taro replied dryly, already heading toward the door.
Watari shot him a sharp glare. "You're really not helping."
The walk to the locker rooms was quieter than usual, the faint sound of bouncing basketballs and squeaking sneakers growing louder with every step. Watari trailed slightly behind, his muttering picking up the closer they got, while Rukawa walked ahead, his usual stoic focus masking any nerves.
Inside the locker room, the three quickly changed into their gym clothes. Taro moved with calmly, tying his shoes neatly and adjusting his jersey. Watari, meanwhile, struggled with his shoes, muttering complaints about them being too tight.
Rukawa, ever relaxed, changed with the same nonchalance he carried everywhere completely unbothered by the weight of the moment.
Taro glanced around as he finished tying his shoes, noticing something unusual. "Where's everyone else?"
Watari paused mid-grumble, glancing around. "What do you mean?"
"No other first-stringers," Taro replied, gesturing to the empty benches and rows of lockers. "It's just us."
Watari frowned, realizing it too. "Weird. You'd think they'd be in here."
Rukawa slung his gym bag over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. "Maybe they're already on the court."
"Maybe they wanted to make an impression," Taro said evenly, standing up.
Watari groaned, stuffing his bag into a locker. Already resigning him to his fate "Great. Nothing like walking straight into an ambush."
"Better than being late," Taro replied, heading for the door.
Rukawa followed, his sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly as they approached the gym doors. Watari hesitated a beat before hurrying after them.
When Taro pushed open the doors, the atmosphere hit them like a wave.
The gym doors swung open, and the trio stepped inside. The sharp sounds of basketballs hitting the hardwood and sneakers squeaking in rhythm filled the air. On one side of the court, players were running layup lines, their rhythm until the door opened.
Four out of 7 players warming up stopped their warmups instantly, their heads turning toward the entrance. Without a word, they began walking toward the newcomers while the others stayed around the hoop. The way they moved wasn't hurried, but deliberate, like they knew their presence alone was enough to demand attention.
At the center of the group stood Kobayashi, his presence both welcoming and commanding. His sharp eyes swept over the trio, not with intimidation, but with an air of quiet authority that set the tone for discipline and teamwork. The faint smile on his face was warm, but it carried a seriousness that reminded them he wasn't just their captain he was the one who would hold them accountable. He exuded reliability, a leader who expected the best and was ready to guide them toward it.
To his right walked a tall unreasonably muscular player with an arm sleeve that only emphasized the size of his biceps. Every step was precise, his sharp posture and quiet focus giving off an air of calm intensity. His movements seemed natural, but there was an unconscious flex to his muscles, a subtle reminder of his raw physicality.
On his left strolled a relatively tall lean player with spiky blonde hair, his relaxed posture contrasting with the sharp gleam in his eyes. His smirk was playful but seemed almost a bit manic.
Trailing behind, a boy with disheveled black hair slouched slightly, his lifeless, dead-fish eyes scanning the scene without any real focus. His withdrawn posture and aura of apathy made him seem like he'd rather be anywhere else.
Watari stiffened, his shoulders tensing as he muttered under his breath, "Why do they look like they're about to judge our entire existence?"
Taro, calm as ever, replied flatly, "They're just walking over."
"They're not 'just walking over,'" Watari hissed, his voice rising slightly. "It's like they're here to file a complaint about us breathing."
The tall, muscular player on the right stepped forward with deliberate precision, his presence closing in on Taro. Though shorter than Taro, his imposing frame and focused demeanor made him feel a bit intimidated. Without even glancing at Taro's face, his sharp gaze dropped directly to his arms, scanning them with unnerving intensity.
His eyes moved slowly, tracing over Taro's biceps, shoulders, chest, and abs, lingering just long enough to make the silence uncomfortable. Finally, his expression shifted faintly, and recognition sparked.
"I've seen you in the gym," he said, his voice calm and clinical. "Your arms. I recognized them."
Taro raised an eyebrow, his guarded expression giving away a flicker of surprise. "That's… specific," he replied cautiously.
The player's gaze swept back over Taro's frame, stopping briefly on his midsection. "Too much fat," he said bluntly, his tone sharp but devoid of malice. "That's not good."
Taro blinked, caught off guard by the frank critique. He straightened slightly, his expression a mix of mild disbelief and guarded curiosity. "I'm working on it," he said evenly, though his tone carried a subtle edge of defensiveness.
The player extended a hand, his grip firm and impersonal, as if the handshake were part of a business transaction. "I'll help you," he added matter-of-factly, as though the offer was non-negotiable.
Taro stared at him for a moment, processing the encounter, before shaking the offered hand. "Alright," he replied simply, though his eyes narrowed slightly, still trying to understand the odd interaction.
The player nodded once, stepping back to stand next to Kobayashi. It was as if the entire exchange had been a completely normal occurrence.
Taro exhaled softly, rolling his shoulders as if to shake off the strange encounter. "huh" he muttered under his breath, casting a glance at Watari, who was staring wide-eyed at the scene, his mouth slightly open in disbelief.
"What was that?!" Watari hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. "He just called you fat!"
Taro shrugged, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "I mean, he's not entirely wrong," he said, his tone dry but amused. "And hey, he even offered to help." With that, he turned his attention back to the court, as if the strange encounter were nothing out of the ordinary.
The spiky-haired player on the left turned his sharp, calculating eyes toward Watari. His smirk widened slightly, playful yet carrying a sharp edge of menace. "Think you can handle first-string?" he asked, his tone light but deliberately needling. "Doesn't seem like your thing."
Watari froze, his nervous grin faltering as his hands twitched. "I-I mean, I'll try!" he stammered.
The player stepped closer with slow, deliberate movements, leaning down just enough to make his presence loom. His voice dropped, smooth but cutting. "Try?" he echoed, his smirk sharpening like a blade. "This isn't a 'try' kind of team. You're either in, or you're out."
Watari stiffened, his wide eyes darting to Taro as if silently pleading for backup. The spiky-haired player let the silence stretch, his smirk growing as he watched Watari squirm. Then, just as Watari's tension reached its peak, he leaned back with a casual shrug, looking entirely too satisfied with himself.
"Guess we'll see," he said, turning away like he'd already won.
"Tokuchi," Kobayashi's sharp tone cut through the moment like a whip. The captain stepped forward, his expression stern as he shot the spiky-haired player a pointed look. "Let them get comfortable before you start with your mind games."
Tokuchi tilted his head, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a sly smile. "What? I'm just helping them prepare for the pressure."
Kobayashi's glare didn't waver. "Ease off."
With a mock sigh, Tokuchi held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, no need to get so serious, Captain." But the mischievous glint in his eyes suggested he'd only dial it back slightly.
Tokuchi's sharp eyes landed on Rukawa, who stood lazily with his hands in his pockets, his usual half-lidded gaze unbothered. Tokuchi's smirk widened as he stepped closer. "You look like the type who doesn't crack under pressure. Let's test that."
Rukawa blinked slowly, his expression unreadable.
"How about a wager?" Tokuchi said, his tone smooth. "Rock-paper-scissors. Win, and I'll help you settle in. Lose, and you're buying me lunch for a week."
Rukawa's gaze flickered with faint interest, his head tilting slightly. "Wager?" he echoed.
"Yeah. Unless you're scared," Tokuchi teased.
Rukawa's lips curled faintly, and he opened his mouth to reply, but Watari darted forward, waving his arms. "Nope, absolutely not! Don't bet with him!"
Tokuchi chuckled. "Relax. Just a friendly game."
Watari pointed accusingly. "You're trouble and I don't trust you!"
Rukawa yawned softly, already losing interest. Watari turned to Taro, exasperated. "Are you going to say something?!"
Taro shrugged, unbothered.
Tokuchi strolled back toward the group, his grin widening. "You're all way too easy," he said lightly, clearly amused.
Kobayashi clapped his hands together, drawing everyone's attention. "Alright, enough with all of that. Let's make this official." He turned to the three first-years, his expression warm but authoritative. "Nice to officially meet you. I'm Keisuke Kobayashi, the captain of this team and a third year, I play as a guard. If you listen to me and work hard, we'll get along just fine."
He gestured toward the tall, muscular player who had been inspecting Taro earlier. "The brute over here is our power forward, Seijuro Shin. He is in the second year and also don't mind his obsession with fitness, he means well. Most of the time."
Shin nodded sharply, his arms still crossed, his demeanor unreadable.
Kobayashi then pointed to Tokuchi, whose ever-present smirk was already back in place. "This idiot is Toa Tokuchi, our small forward, also a third year. He's a chronic gambler, so don't let him talk you into anything, especially you, Rukawa, you were way too easily talked into that bet." he said slightly exasperated
Tokuchi feigned offense, placing a hand over his chest. "Me? An idiot? I prefer 'tactician.' And for the record, Rukawa agreed to the bet before your little rookie ruined the fun."
Watari let out a groan while Kobayashi ignored him, turning slightly to the boy standing awkwardly behind him. "And this guy, the one hiding behind me, is Hachiman Hikigaya. He's a guard and second year too."
Hachiman shifted slightly, his deadpan expression and lifeless eyes doing nothing to make him appear any less withdrawn. "Hiding's a strong word," he muttered. "I just… don't see the point of being front and center all the time."
Kobayashi rolled his eyes. "And there it is. Don't take his attitude too seriously he's just like that."
Hachiman straightened a little, his tone dry and cynical as ever. "While this is nice and all… what's the point of playing basketball anymore? The Generation of Miracles are in high school now. What's the point? We're just competing for sixth place anyway."
The gym fell silent for a beat, the tension thick as Hachiman's words hung in the air.
Kobayashi's smirk vanished, replaced by a sharp glare that cut through the quiet. Tokuchi let out a low whistle, his smirk widening in clear amusement, while Shin raised an eyebrow, his stoic expression betraying the faintest flicker of confusion.
Even Rukawa, normally unbothered, tilted his head slightly, his half-lidded gaze narrowing as if to silently question the sheer audacity of the statement.
Taro, standing off to the side, sighed quietly to himself, his expression flat. He's an idiot, he thought plainly, his amber eyes drifting toward Hachiman as if already resigned to the chaos that would follow.
Watari broke the silence first calling out "Seriously? Who even says that? Have you given up before the season even started?!"
"An idiot" Kobayashi replied, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. He stepped forward, glaring at Hachiman. "Here's the thing: I don't care about the Generation of Miracles. They're not in this gym. We are. So unless you're planning on quitting before we even start, drop the defeatist crap."
Hachiman shrugged, his tone still annoyingly casual. "I'm just being realistic."
"You're being a pain," Kobayashi shot back. "But lucky for you, I don't care if you're cynical, so long as you show up and play."
The captain's words seemed to settle the tension, but only slightly. Hachiman didn't respond, his dead fish eyes blinking slowly as he stared back at Kobayashi.
"Good talk," Kobayashi said dryly, turning back to the group. "Now that we've got the introductions out of the way, let's see what you three can do."
Before anyone could respond, the sound of the gym doors swinging open behind the trio. All heads turned as Coach Hurley strode in, his sharp blue eyes sweeping over the gathered players. Rin followed closely behind, her clipboard tucked under her arm, her usual no-nonsense expression firmly in place.
"Good, everyone's here," Coach said, his voice cutting through the gym like a whistle. He glanced at the group of seven players who were standing around and then over at the three who were still warming up near the basket. "Let's get started."