The days blurred into rhythm: wake before dawn, train until the sun rose, go to school, and finish the night reviewing notes—basketball drills, physical stats, and the NBA playoff bracket scrawled across a notebook I kept hidden under my futon.
Every morning the smell of ink and fresh paper followed me home from the newsstand. The sports section was my battlefield now.
The First Signs
Yohei sat with me on the school roof during lunch break, the newspaper spread across his lap. He scanned the scores, eyes darting between the headlines and the notes I'd given him days before.
"Detroit Pistons 3–0 Indiana Pacers," he read aloud. His eyes flicked up at me. "Exactly like you said."
I shrugged, biting into my rice ball calmly. "That was obvious."
He scowled. "Obvious? You said it with the confidence of a psychic. And now it's true."
The next day, another result came in: Chicago Bulls defeated the Cleveland Cavaliers. Jordan's name filled the headlines, another scoring explosion from him. Yohei looked at me across the classroom, eyes wide, the paper trembling in his hands.
By the end of the week, the pattern was undeniable.
Pistons swept the Pacers.
Bulls beat the Cavaliers.
Celtics over Knicks.
76ers advanced.
Yohei's parents had started paying attention too. At night, after dinner, he told me they sat in the living room waiting for him to read the latest results out loud, each game another nail in the coffin of their disbelief.
The West Falls in Line
When the West's results came in, Yohei nearly dropped the paper in shock.
Lakers over Rockets.
Blazers over Mavericks.
Spurs beat the Nuggets.
And the big one—Phoenix Suns upset the Utah Jazz.
"Every single one," Yohei muttered, his voice caught between awe and fear. "You called every single one, Hanamichi. Even the Suns! Nobody thought they'd beat Stockton and Malone!"
I leaned back on the roof, arms behind my head, eyes fixed on the sky. "Told you."
Yohei rubbed his face, still stunned. "My old man said if the Suns actually pulled it off, he'd start listening. And now… damn, now I think he has no choice."
Discipline Unbroken
But I didn't let the victories distract me.
Every morning at four, I was back on the court. My dribbling still wasn't smooth enough, so I spent an hour pounding the ball, alternating hands, practicing crossovers until my fingertips stung. I shot a hundred jumpers, then another hundred. By the time the sun rose, sweat soaked through my shirt and my legs ached—but the shot was cleaner, the rhythm sharper.
The changes in my body were accelerating. My friends noticed too.
"Oi, Hanamichi," Noma said one afternoon, poking my arm. "Your biceps are getting ridiculous. You trying to be a bodybuilder or what?"
"Yeah," Yuji added, laughing, "next thing you know you'll dunk over us just walking to class."
Nozomi grinned, his round belly shaking. "Better not forget us little people when you're famous, big guy."
I smiled faintly but said nothing. Fame wasn't the goal. Domination was.
Yohei's Parents
One evening, Yohei invited me to his house. His parents were waiting, serious but curious.
His father folded his arms. "So, Sakuragi. Every result you gave Yohei came true. All of them."
I nodded. "Yes."
His mother frowned. "How? How could you possibly know?"
I met her gaze calmly. "I studied the league. The matchups. I know the players, their tendencies, their limits. It's not luck. It's knowledge. The kind of knowledge that doesn't come from guesswork."
Silence followed. His parents exchanged a long look.
Finally, his father said, "If the second round plays out the same way you predict, then we'll place the bet. But if even one series goes against you, that's the end. Understood?"
I bowed my head respectfully. "Understood."
Yohei walked me out afterward, his face pale. "Damn it, Hanamichi… You're actually pulling this off. You're dragging my family into something huge."
I clapped a hand on his shoulder, smirking. "Don't worry. This is only the beginning. Trust me—when this is over, we'll be looking at the world differently."
He shook his head, still half in disbelief, but I could see it—the spark of belief, growing stronger every day.
Resolve
That night, as I sat on my futon with the basketball in my lap, I whispered to myself:
This world gave me a second chance. I'll use everything I know—on the court, in business, in life. Nothing will stop me this time.
The ball felt heavy in my hands, like it already carried the weight of destiny.