The team shuffled into the film room. The projector hummed quietly in the corner, casting a pale light across the floor. Daniel, Marcus, and Kuhlmann lingered at the edges, with clipboards in hand. Michiko perched on a chair near the back, notebook ready to give context on Japan and its basketball culture. Dr. Lang leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a look of disbelief on her face.
"You know," she muttered, voice dripping with mock exasperation, "I thought this was going to be fun. Popcorn, highlights, maybe a laugh or two. Not… dissecting human beings for two hours."
Kuhlmann didn't even flinch. "Learning is fun. If by fun, you mean cold, brutal truths about talent, weaknesses, and survivability on the court."
Dr. Lang shook her head. "I have a PhD, and you're telling me I signed up to be mentally abused by basketball tapes?"
Marcus leaned over to her, whispering with a grin, "Trust me. You'll love it… eventually."
The boys ignored the banter. They'd heard it all before. Today was different. Kuhlmann and Michiko reminded them of the stakes again: $500,000 each, but only if they demolished the Generation of Miracles in the Winter Cup, and went on to win the Pan Eastern tournament – a grueling competition for high school teams across Asia. Schools from China, Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, Hong Kong, the Philippines, Indonesia, Malaysia, Australia, and New Zealand – only the best.
Uchina Goro, their billionaire sponsor, had hired them specifically for this. Nothing else mattered.
Ector muttered, nudging Novak, "Half a mil each. Cabron… that's insane."
After Kuhlmann finished explaining the plan, the boys slouched in their chairs, the weight of their mission mixing with nerves and excitement.
"So… we're going to study at Onitsuka Athletic High in Okinawa," Ector said, rolling the words around like they were candy. "And apparently dominate high school basketball across all of Asia."
Novak snorted. "Yeah, but first… what's our team name? We can't just be 'Team Rich Sponsor.' Sounds like a bad rap group."
Aliir raised an eyebrow. "Or 'Basketball Misfits.' Way too obvious."
Jean-Batiste Biha shrugged. "I vote for something fierce. Tigers? Lions? Dragons?"
Grigori leaned forward, bouncing a ball lazily. "We could be the Okinawa Thunder. Sounds deadly."
Ector waved his hand. "Nah, too generic. We need something cool. Something that makes people scared before the first tip-off."
Jesus, who had been quietly adjusting his sneakers, chuckled. "You all tryna sound tough while wearing those old Nikes?"
"Old Nikes?" Ector shot him a look. "What do you mean?"
Jesus lifted his foot, showing off his shoes. "Cortez. Classic. Nike."
Novak tilted his head. "Wait… aren't those basically rip-offs of Onitsuka Tigers?"
A beat of silence. Then everyone froze.
"Onitsuka Tigers…" Ector said slowly, letting it roll around in his mouth.
"Sounds perfect," Grigori said, smirking. "Easy to remember, fierce as hell, and… it just fits."
Aliir grinned. "Onitsuka Tigers. I like it. Quick, deadly, and classy."
Jean-Batiste laughed. "And every time someone asks why, we just point to Jesus' sneakers and nod solemnly."
Michiko, still smiling at the ridiculous banter, suddenly straightened in her chair. "Oh! Before you all get too carried away with shoes and cool names…"
The boys perked up, sensing something serious in her tone.
"Yes?" Ector asked, eyebrows raised.
Michiko grinned. "It's time for your first… monthly allowance!"
A collective "Wait, what?" went around the room.
"Allowance?" Jesus repeated, nearly spitting out his gum. "We're not twelve!"
"Nope," Michiko said. "It's in the contract. Don't tell me you didn't read it. Oh, yeah… of course you didn't." She gave them a knowing look. "$3,000 each. Consider it… your first paycheck."
Novak's jaw dropped. "Wait, seriously? That's… ours?"
"Yes. And since you're leaving for Japan soon, I figured you should have a little freedom. Go shopping, sightseeing, maybe get some gear that doesn't smell like gym socks. Think of it as… pre-Japan prep."
Ector clapped his hands together, grinning like a kid. "Ohhhhhh! Now we're talking. Street food first!"
Aliir laughed. "And I'm buying dumb anime stuff. Don't judge me."
Jean-Batiste smirked. "I call camera gear. Can't let you guys document our legendary rise without me capturing it."
Grigori, ever calm, just nodded. "I'll invest. Or… sneakers."
Tyrone smirked, counting off in his head. "Three grand… enough to fix my mom's old car and get some gear that actually works. Fine by me."
Michiko shook her head, chuckling. "Just… behave. Don't turn LA into a war zone, Tigers."
Erik Kuhlmann clapped his hands once, cutting through the laughter. "Alright, alright. Fun's over. We're here to watch these 'Miracles' in action. Focus."
…