The sun was setting.
A young man about one meter eighty walked alone through the school hallway.
It was the end of the day. The moment the dismissal bell rang, most students burst out of their classrooms like caged beasts suddenly set free.
It was as if the classroom itself were a damn prison.
Some yelled about where to hang out after school; others rushed off to their clubs, brimming with excitement.
Well, this was Japan.
A country that practically worshipped social life—and for them, club activities were the ultimate networking goldmine.
Especially sports clubs. Fueled by anime and manga, they shouted things like "Dreams!" "Bonds!" "Youth!" and charged forward like hot-blooded protagonists diving headfirst into the abyss.
Kasugano Souta liked sports too—basketball, soccer, ping pong, badminton, volleyball—he loved watching all of them.
But watching was as far as it went.
There was a reason for that: every sport revolved around talent.
Without it, no matter how hard you worked, you'd never make it. Forget being a star—you couldn't even touch the stage.
Thanks to watching LeBron James's legendary 2003 NBA draft as the number one pick, Souta had developed a soft spot for basketball.
He'd even played competitive basketball back in middle school, representing his town in regional tournaments.
As for results?
They'd snagged third place that year.
Not bad for a small-town team, but that was where his glory ended. Amateur-level, he could hang. Step into pro territory, and the gap hit like a brick wall of despair.
Oh, right—almost forgot. Souta was a transmigrator.
He'd come from 2025, straight out of the real world.
And this world?
At first, he hadn't realized where he was. But when a certain rainbow-colored team called Teiko crushed the entire nation—winning the National Tournament with five first-year players—he figured it out.
Kuroko no Basuke.
Just like that, Souta's passion for basketball died on the spot.
In the real world, the gap between geniuses and ordinary people was already massive. Here, that gap was a bottomless chasm.
Teiko Junior High.
The Generation of Miracles.
Every player who'd seen their strength firsthand had eventually given up basketball altogether.
They were that overwhelming.
The kind of monsters that made "talent gap" feel like an understatement.
Souta was no different.
The moment he learned those freaks existed, he retired on the spot.
Play ball? Against superhumans? Hell no.
He'd thought that with his experience, he could at least carve out a living in Japan, where the basketball level was lower overall.
After all, he could jump decently high, he ran fast enough, and he'd trained since childhood—twenty years of experience had to count for something.
If nothing else, it gave him a shot at a stable pro career.
And with that kind of money, he could've lived easy—pull in a few million yen a year, marry a gravure model, settle down to a quiet life with a warm bed and a hot wife.
But then came Teiko.
And its freakishly talented players.
This wasn't his old world, and the pro barrier here was way higher.
He was still just another average guy. A dreamer destined for a tragic ending, like countless others.
So he gave up.
"Are you really gonna keep that 'my life's over' face forever?"
Smack!
Someone hit him on the back of the head.
He turned—and saw a girl with long, straight black hair, easily a nine out of ten.
Kazuha Migiwa.
His classmate, and one of the few people he could call a friend. The daughter of a wealthy businessman.
She stood there with a black clipboard in hand, one arm on her hip, glaring at him in annoyance.
Souta rubbed his head, muttering under his breath. "Where the hell do you keep pulling that clipboard from? It's like anime logic or something..."
It was the same complaint he'd grumbled a hundred times before. Seriously—how did her uniform even hide that thing?
He rolled his eyes and said out loud, "It's character tropes. Just like how you've got that whole 'elegant rich girl' thing permanently attached to you. People see it and instantly start worshipping."
"You—!"
Kazuha froze, unable to refute him.
Truth was, she'd first noticed Souta because he didn't treat her like everyone else.
She wasn't being conceited—it was just true. She was rich, pretty, and graceful to a fault. Practically the school's dream girl.
Every guy drooled over her.
Except Souta.
Not because he couldn't—because he wouldn't.
And that annoyed her even more.
"You used to go to basketball club every day. Why'd you stop?" she asked, frowning.
"Can't win. So I quit."
He'd played thinking he could make a living out of it—and maybe fulfill a childhood dream along the way.
Now?
He'd be lucky to afford dirt.
"Can't win so you quit? That's it?"
"Rich girls like you wouldn't get it." Souta's tone was blunt.
Dreams didn't fill stomachs.
No money, no future.
Sports with no career path? Pointless.
Might as well find a hustle instead—something he could actually live off.
Dreams were for idiots with time to waste.
You don't have the capital? Then keep it in your dreams.
Ding!
"Detected foreign soul. Dream Simulator successfully bound. Project: Basketball. First Simulation is free. Subsequent Simulations require one Victory Point."
A flat, robotic voice rang in Souta's head.
Out of nowhere. No warning.
A holographic screen appeared before his eyes.
[Dream Simulator]
[Simulation Level: Lv1]
[Host: Kasugano Souta]
[Age: 14 years, 66 days]
[Special Skills: None]
[Special Talents: None]
[Available Simulations: 1]
Thump, thump, thump!
Souta stopped walking, face suddenly flushing.
Oh hell. Was this—was this excitement?!
Kazuha flinched at his expression, stepping back nervously. "W-What are you doing?!"
When did she pull another clipboard from behind her back?
"Holy shit, I knew it! With this setup, there's no way I'm normal!" Souta clenched his fist, trembling. "A Cheat might be late, but it never misses its cue!"
What kind of setup was this?
Orphan template!
Talentless protagonist!
Good-looking and nothing else!
His fists hardened. Literally.
"Later!"
He spun on his heel and sprinted off.
Kazuha blinked, caught completely off guard. "Where are you going?!"
"I'm going to find the dream I threw in the trash! My passion! My destiny! My damn starry sky!"
"Find your dream? Where?!" she shouted after him. "At least tell me where you're going! I'll drive you!"
But Souta was already gone, feet blazing like the wind.