The sky was painted in vibrant hues of orange and pink, the colors blending into soft purples as the day began its slow descent into evening. A couple of days had passed since the game against Shinkyō, and while the atmosphere at school had shifted, not everything had changed.
Taro noticed the difference immediately. The stares in the hallways were no longer filled with scorn or intimidation. Instead, people glanced at him with something closer to curiosity. The whispers that followed him now were softer, speculative. Word of the game had spread quickly. He wasn't being crowned a sports star just yet, but there was an expectation in the air, a cautious belief that he might be someone worth watching.
It felt strange. In any life he could remember, attention was something to be avoided, not embraced. Back in his old life, he'd been a background figure, content to let others take the spotlight. Here, before the game, he'd been the oversized first-year who stuck out for all the wrong reasons. Now, though, the attention lingered, and he didn't know what to make of it.
The shift wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. Small talk, for instance, was a battlefield Taro hadn't trained for. People—teachers, classmates, even complete strangers seemed to think his sudden rise warranted casual conversation. They were wrong.
Taro wasn't built for this kind of thing. He'd tried he really had but every attempt felt like stepping onto a landmine. Too blunt? Boom. Too honest? Boom. Too quiet? Double boom.
Watari had been little help. He spent most of his time with childhood friends from the school, a social safety net Taro lacked. Rukawa was predictably unreachable, either sprawled across the roof lor passed out in the club room, undisturbed by anything short of the apocalypse. That left Taro to navigate on his own, a task that was somehow harder than anything he'd faced on the court.
In an effort to find his footing, he'd drifted into social spaces that felt... different. The kind of places where the usual cliques didn't quite dominate. It was there he found himself sitting with an odd mix of first-years from the culinary club, the kendo club, and the volleyball club.
They were weird—unapologetically so. Each one of them carried a kind of intense passion that bordered on unsettling, the kind of drive that made them seem out of place to anyone who didn't understand it. They were the best at what they did, and they carried themselves like it, not with arrogance but with a quiet defiance. They weirded people out. They didn't care. Taro got that.
He'd sat down with them once, more out of curiosity than anything else. They hadn't stopped him. That alone made them different from the usual crowd, the ones who watched every move he made like they were waiting for him to slip up.
Conversations weren't easy. Taro still didn't care much for social norms and certainly didn't bother with them. There were long silences where he didn't know what to say, moments where his bluntness cut too close, or times where his honesty made things awkward. But nobody told him to leave. Nobody turned him away. That was enough.
For the first time, Taro felt like he'd found people who weren't trying to mold him into something else. They were just... there. And maybe that was what he needed.
But despite these changes, some things stayed the same. And that's why, with the sun dipping low on the horizon, Taro was out running.
He jogged through the quiet streets, a bag slung over his shoulder, the faint outline of a basketball pressing against the fabric. The sound of his shoes hitting the pavement echoed softly in the still air, grounding him. As much as things at school had shifted, Taro felt the weight of what lay ahead, and he knew he couldn't let up.
A few blocks later, Taro spotted two familiar figures near the entrance of the park. Watari stood fidgeting with his phone, glancing down warily, while Rukawa… was asleep.
Slouched against a lamppost, arms crossed over his chest, Rukawa's head tilted slightly, his usual stoic demeanor replaced by the serene stillness of sleep. There was an odd majesty to it, Taro thought, but it also made sense. Taro had spent some time last week observing the riding club. And because of that, Taro knew how to deal with this.
Rukawa would obviously smell him approaching. Taro was sure of it. But since he hasn't woken up, Taro thought proudly, he must trust me.
Watari looked up from his phone, his brow furrowing. "Uh… what are you doing?" he asked, noticing Taro's stillness.
"I've got this," Taro said with quiet confidence, ignoring the confusion on Watari's face.
Watari blinked but didn't press further, instead pulling up his camera app. "Okay… this I've got to see."
Taro moved forward cautiously, recalling the techniques he'd recently read about. Approach from the front, but at an angle. Talk softly. Don't make sudden movements. Horses/Rukawa don't like to be startled.
"Rukawa," Taro said softly, his tone low and even as he approached. The sleeping figure didn't stir. Taro took another step closer, careful not to be too direct in his movement. "Hey, Rukawa. Time to wake up."
Nothing.
Taro paused, considering his options. Then he pursed his lips and let out a low, soft whistle, the sound carrying gently through the air. Rukawa's nose twitched, his brows furrowing slightly. Another whistle followed, just as soft. Slowly, his eyes cracked open, his gaze sharp yet calm as he took in the scene before him.
"What… are you doing?" Rukawa asked, his voice still thick with sleep but laced with mild annoyance.
"Waking you up," Taro replied, stepping back slightly. His voice was calm, but the triumphant flicker in his eyes was impossible to miss.
From behind them, Watari lowered his phone, his expression caught somewhere between awe and utter disbelief. "What the hell did I just watch?" he asked, his voice incredulous. "Why did you whistle? Why did you move like that? What was this whole process?"
Taro tilted his head slightly, his tone calm but tinged with amusement. "Remind me again—how has it worked the last couple of times you've tried waking him up?"
Watari opened his mouth to argue but paused, his gaze shifting between Taro and Rukawa. The fact that Rukawa wasn't swinging fists or even looking annoyed seemed to baffle him more than anything. "Weird," he muttered, pocketing his phone. "But somehow… it worked."
Taro nodded, adjusting the strap of his bag. "Let's go."
As they began walking, Watari lagged behind slightly, glancing down at the saved recording on his phone. He muttered to himself, "There's no way anyone's going to believe this."
They fell into step together, the three of them walking toward their destination. The streets were quiet, the faint sound of Taro's bag rustling as it swung with his stride filling the silence.
"So, why'd you want to come?" Taro asked after a moment, glancing at Rukawa.
Rukawa's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, determination. "I told you after the game. I can do more. If I'm not working to get better, I'm wasting time."
Taro nodded, his respect for Rukawa growing. He turned his attention to Watari, who looked down as soon as Taro's gaze landed on him.
"And you?" Taro asked, his tone softer.
Watari hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper when he finally spoke. "I didn't want to stay the guy who just… ran up and down the court. I want to contribute. I want to actually feel like I'm part of the team."
Taro nodded again, his calm expression betraying none of his thoughts. "Then let's get to work."
As they approached the entrance of the park, they noticed three high schoolers in white dress shirts walking out. One of them was cradling his elbow, his face twisted in pain, while the others looked equally ragged, their shirts untucked and dirt smudged across their sleeves. The faint sound of a basketball bouncing in the distance carried on the breeze.
Watari hesitated, glancing at Rukawa and Taro, who both gave him a slight nod to move forward. "Go on," Rukawa said flatly. "Find out what happened."
Encouraged, Watari jogged up to the group, his nervousness visible but his curiosity outweighing his hesitation. "Hey," he called, his voice tentative but audible enough to catch their attention. "You guys okay? What happened?"
One of the teens, a taller boy with a bruise forming on his cheek, glanced at Watari before looking back at his friends. "We were playing basketball," he began, his tone frustrated. "Just us three. Then these five guys showed up and told us to leave the court because they wanted to play."
The boy cradling his elbow chimed in, his voice strained. "We didn't want to just give it up, so we told them we'd play for it. Three-on-three."
"At first, it was fine," the taller boy continued. "They were better than us, sure, but it was a normal game. Then, two more of their friends showed up, and it got bad."
"They started playing dirty," said the third teen, shorter with a scratch across his cheek. "Shoving, tripping, throwing elbows. Kazuto here caught the worst of it." He gestured toward the boy holding his elbow. "He took a hard hit when one of them went up for a block but just hit him straight to the floor. We tried to keep going, but it wasn't worth it."
"Yeah," Kazuto said bitterly. "Some kid was talking to those bastards when we left. Talking about how "This isn't basketball." We figured it was smarter to get this checked out rather than stick around and get hurt worse."
Watari looked back at Taro and Rukawa, his unease clear as he processed what he'd just heard. "Five guys… playing dirty?" he muttered, his voice trailing off.
Taro adjusted the strap of his bag, his calm demeanor shifting slightly. "Sounds like they are still there."
Rukawa's expression hardened slightly, his gaze shifting toward the park entrance. "Let's see for ourselves."
By the time they reached the court, Watari and Rukawa stepped ahead of Taro, their curiosity pulling them forward. Watari hesitated briefly at the edge of the court, his eyes darting between the five thugs slumped on the ground and the two players who stood in the middle of the court.
The first figure barely glanced at them, his golden eyes flicking over Watari with disinterest before shifting back toward his companion. His medium-length blond hair caught the fading light, the strands gleaming as he adjusted the collar of his shirt with a casual elegance. He looked effortlessly composed, and in Taro's opinion, a bit too put together, as if the scene around him wasn't worth his attention.
The second figure was tall and broad, his muscular frame giving him a naturally commanding presence, though it lacked the polish of his companion. His two-toned red and black hair fell messily over his sharp features, his red eyes carrying a focused intensity that hinted at untapped potential. His stance was confident, but not fully grounded, like someone still figuring out how to wield the power they had.
Unlike the blond man's graceful composure, there was a rawness to him more earnest than feral. His gaze swept over Rukawa and Watari briefly before turning away, not out of disinterest, but as if he wasn't entirely sure how to engage with the moment. The air around him felt charged, but not heavy, more like a spark waiting to ignite than a storm ready to strike.
Taro took in the scene silently, his mind working through the strange tension hanging in the air. The way the two figures stood, their presence commanding and over-the-top, the way the light hit them just right as if the world itself wanted them to look cooler than everyone else…it all felt... surreal.
And then it hit him.
This is Kise and Kagami, Taro thought, his heart skipping a beat as the realization washed over him. I'm in the middle of an anime episode.
His eyes darted to Watari, who was stepping cautiously forward, oblivious to the absurdity of what was unfolding. Watari swallowed nervously and spoke, his voice tentative but audible. "Uh… what happened here?"
The blond figure turned his head lazily toward Watari, his golden eyes narrowing slightly, though his expression remained bored. "What happened?" he repeated, his tone light but dismissive. "Nothing you need to worry about. Move along."
The words hung in the air, sharp and cutting, as if Watari's question hadn't been worth the effort of answering. Watari flinched slightly, the dismissal hitting harder than expected. He hesitated, glancing back toward Taro for reassurance.
Taro's gaze flicked between the two figures. His mind raced, but his body moved before he could second-guess himself. He stepped forward, his pace steady, his expression calm, though his heart pounded in his chest.
As Taro's foot hit the court, the atmosphere shifted. The blond man's golden eyes sharpened, his bored expression vanishing as his lips curled into a smirk, focused and intrigued. Beside him, the red-haired figure straightened, his arms uncrossing. His red eyes fixed on Taro.
The tension in the court thickened, the weight of their attention pressing down on Taro like an unspoken challenge. But instead of fear, something wild and electric surged through him. His heart pounded, his breath quickening as his lips curled into a crooked smile, the kind he hadn't realized he was capable of.
This is it, he thought, his mind racing with a chaotic thrill. This is what I want.
His fingers twitched, itching for the ball, for the game, for anything that would push this moment forward. The sheer intensity of the two figures before him didn't intimidate him it only fed the fire blazing in his chest. He clenched his fists at his sides, barely keeping himself from laughing out loud.
Taro stepped forward, his voice steady but sharp as he broke the silence. "I believe he asked you a question," he said, his gaze fixed on the blond man. "The least you can do is answer."
The air seemed to grow heavier as Taro's words hung between them, his tone carrying both challenge and conviction.