After my team clashed with Rikuya-senpai's, it was time for the next match.
Aizawa's team versus Taiga's team.
I leaned back, towel draped over my shoulders, water bottle half-full in hand. My body was recovering, but my mind never stopped analyzing. Even if this was just another scrimmage match, what I saw here would shape the future of our team. In this game, it wasn't just about who won—it was about who had what it took to shine.
At first glance, Taiga's team looked unstable. Raw. Powerful, yes, but wild. The only solid scoring option was Rei Hoshino, our rhythm sniper with a calm demeanor and the sharpest shooting form in our year. But beyond his shooting ability, Rei wasn't much of a playmaker or defender. His skillset was like a perfectly tuned instrument—but it needed a conductor. And that was the problem.
No one on that team was a natural floor general.
Taiga's athleticism and hustle made him a beast inside. His drive was second to none, and his energy could carry the game… but not direct it. A team without a playmaker was like an orchestra with no conductor. They had passion, but no harmony.
Curious, I activated Echo.
[Echo Open]
• Name: Shouta Nakamura
• Height: 160 cm
• Weight: 59 kg
Skills:
– Two Heart Lv.4 – This person has a weak mind, lowering or boosting his attributes based on his confidence level.
– Vision Lv.1 – Enhanced spatial awareness.
– Fundamentals Lv.1 – Solid basic skills.
Playmaking
– Pass Accuracy: 45 / 100
– Vision: 40 / 100
– Ball Handling: 35 / 100
I narrowed my eyes. A gem… but raw. And tricky.
This was Hiroki's first game. New team. Unfamiliar roles. His confidence was already trembling, even from the bench I could see his hands fidgeting and his eyes darting around. If confidence defined his ceiling, then nerves threatened to crush his floor. He was a sword with two edges—if used well, he could be a decisive factor. But in the wrong hands? He'd shatter before even swinging.
The game began.
Aizawa wasted no time setting the tone.
Right off the tip-off, he made a sudden cut, catching the ball mid-air and driving past his defender with effortless speed. It was a blur—one second he was outside the arc, the next, he was soaring in for a layup.
2 – 0.
4 – 0.
6 – 0.
8 – 0.
10 – 0.
Aizawa was dominating.
The gym buzzed with murmurs. His movement was pure instinct—unorthodox, but effective. He had holes in his form, open gaps in his mechanics, yet no one could capitalize. Just when you thought you saw a flaw, he twisted it into an advantage. An enigma on the court.
Meanwhile, Taiga's team was a mess.
Bright players with no coordination. Rei couldn't find space. Hiroki looked like he wanted to disappear. And Taiga… Taiga was boiling over.
"ORAAAAAAA!!!"
He screamed at the top of his lungs, fists clenched, eyes blazing.
For a moment, I thought he might explode—throw a punch, slam the floor, do something reckless.
But instead...
"Okay, we will win."
He pounded his chest once, then turned to slap both his teammates' hands.
"You—Hiroki. Be confident. You're good. Trust me. We're gonna win this sh*t."
"You—Rei. You say you've got that deadly shot, right? Then prove it. I'll make the space. You just focus and knock it down."
"Yessir!"
From where I sat, it felt like watching a big brother rally his younger siblings. His passion wasn't rage—it was responsibility. The moment he made eye contact with them, the atmosphere shifted.
Then he said it.
"I'll take care of Aizawa-senpai. You two? Open the floor and finish the shots. Got it?"
What happened next was almost poetic.
Taiga became a shadow—sticking to Aizawa like glue. Every cut, every fake, every misdirection, Taiga mirrored him with pure grit. He wasn't fast enough to match Aizawa perfectly, but he made up for it with hustle. Every mistake Hiroki made, Taiga recovered. Every failed screen Rei missed, Taiga adjusted. He gave them second chances with sheer will.
And slowly… it started working.
10 – 2.
10 – 4.
10 – 6.
10 – 8.
Aizawa, realizing the shift, began adjusting—utilizing his teammates more. Still, Taiga's fire didn't burn out.
12 – 10.
12 – 12.
12 – 13.
The crowd was on the edge of their seats now. Even I leaned forward.
14 – 13.
16 – 13.
16 – 16.
18 – 16.
18 – 18.
Match point.
Aizawa drove in with his usual unpredictability, twisting his body for a layup. But Taiga was already there—anticipating, reading, reacting. He leapt, disrupting the shot.
Miss.
The rebound bounced back. Taiga grabbed it like his life depended on it. Without hesitation, he pushed it forward to Hiroki.
Hiroki slashed to the side, selling the drive, only to pivot. A fake.
He kicked it out to the corner.
Rei was waiting. Perfect form. Calm breath. Snap release.
The ball spun in the air.
No drama. No bounce.
Swish.
18 – 21. Game.
The gym erupted. Cheers rang out louder than before. This match wasn't just good—it was intense, dramatic, emotional. The kind of game that shifts momentum across the court.
I exhaled slowly.
That's going to be a problem.
A team with surging confidence… is a dangerous opponent.
Sayaka and Ayaka came in with drinks and towels, giving us a short break. We had 15 minutes before the final match.
I took a sip of water and glanced toward Taiga's team. Kaito-senpai had joined them—probably offering advice. Meanwhile, someone approached me from behind.
"...So, what do you think?"
It was Rikuya-senpai.
I met his gaze.
"I'll win," I said. "I'll cut their momentum."
A rare smile curved at the edge of his mouth.
"Good. You better. You're the one bringing us to Nationals after all."
I nodded, gripping the towel tighter.
This was it.
It wasn't just about winning.
I had to prove something.
Become someone they could trust.
The pillar that this team could lean on—
—no matter how wild the storm became.