"I KNEW IT!" Imai shrieked, grabbing her friend's arm, pointing at Ari with her other hand. "That's Toru Ari! He was on the basketball team at Seiko! Tallest boy in school."
Her friend's mouth opened up in shock before...
"Then he quit because he sucked!"
OUCH.
Her voice carried across. From her lips to his ears. And his ears twiched like a cat startled by sound.
"He won some academic awards after he gave up on sports" She was talking to her friends but loud enough for everyone to hear. "Guess those awards don't help you jump, huh?!"
'How'd she even remember my name. I barely talked to her.'
Her friends were laughing. A genuine, unrestrained mockery.
And now he's back trying basketball?" Her friend laughed. "That's sad."
"It's pathetic." Imai stood up slowly and gently, her voice rising above the crowd noise. "ARI-KUN!" she called out, her tone was dripped in false sweetness. "STILL JUMPING LIKE A MIDDLE SCHOOLER, I SEE! SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE!"
Her friends burst into laughter. Several nearby students joined in, the mockery went everywhere. Everywhere. Was like a chain reaction.
Ari kept his head down, jaw clenched so tight his teeth hurt.
His face was burning with shame and anger in equal measure. He walked back toward Group J, each step felt like trudging through concrete. The laughter following him like a physical weight.
Haruto watched Ari return, and felt his own empty stomach ( he was hungry ) drop in despair.
Haruto gulped, watching his friend's humiliation. His own turn was coming, and he was even less athletic
If Ari who was much taller and could shoot those weird skyscraper jumpers from his special training. If Toru Ari could only jump twenty-four inches, what chance did Haruto have? He was chubby, with worse stamina, less athletic ability in every measurable way than his gothic friend.
This was going to be a disaster.
Ari reached for Haruto. Putting a gentle pale hand on his shoulder.
"Hey." Ari called calmly, "I already messed up. The bar's low now. You've got nowhere to go but up."
Haruto managed to meet Ari's black eyes for a long second. The simple words eased his anxiety. And he finally stopped his internal panic.
Haruto's face shone and color returned to his cheeks as well as confidence. So he sighed in relief
"You're right! Compared to you, I'll look amazing!"
Ari pulled his hands off and his attention turned back to the court. "...Thanks"
"That came out wrong didn't it", Haruto said scratching his blonde hair self consciously.
Ari's face turned back to Haruto who was already standing up... "Little bit."
Haruto made his way to the baseline, with Ari watched carefully. The first-year point guard positioned himself at an angle. Then he ran. His run-up was slow and careful.
But meanwhile in dear Harutos mind.
'Don't trip'
'Don't trip'
'Don't trip'
Ari's eyes blossomed in shock as he watched Haruto's movement come closer and closer.
Wait
'Haruto's using a penultimate step?'
That second-to-last step where the body converts horizontal momentum into vertical explosion. Haruto's leg compressed, his knee bent and then he jumped.
Not high. But ...better?
Pop.
Haruto touched a marker, came back down, and immediately his legs gave out. He landed hard on his butt. The impact was audible even from where Ari stood.
The crowd laughed again.
The coordinator didn't bother helping Haruto up. He just checked the measurement with a stupid expression on his face. It was clear from where Ari stood. The coordinator was also trying not to laugh.
"Twenty-six inches."
MORE LAUGHTER.
"You have to be fucking kidding me_"
"THOSE TWO SUCK!"
Phones came out.
"The chubby blondie boy fell on his ass!!" A male voice shouted from the crowd. Ecstasy like he was having the time of his life. As if nobody had eyes and needed his narration of events for something everyone just saw.
Someone else from the bleachers shouted again... Maybe it was the same voice from just now.
"Those two practiced CSRP together! That is the only way they scored thirty-six points! No way they're actually good!"
Other voices picked up the theory:
"Yes!!" they probably drilled that exact sequence!"
"That's the only way they could beat my Isami!!'
"Choreographed the whole thing!"
"Frauds!"
The accusation spread. Wildfire. Suddenly their CSRP performance wasn't impressive, it was suspicious. Clear evidence of preparation rather than skill.
Ari looked toward Court I, toward where Isami Nagi sat with his crew, surrounded by a cluster of girls screaming and shouting confessions at him from the stands. "Nagi-kun, I love you!" "You're amazing!"
'Mad People'. Was AriTorus exact thought.
But Isami wasn't even paying attention to the vertical jumps anymore. He was lounging like a king on a throne, drinking water. Like he was accepting adoration as his natural due, completely unbothered by the chaos he'd created by setting such untouchable standards.
Haruto stood up...alone, no help offered. He brushed off his tracksuit, and walked back to Group J. His face turned serene. He looked like a melancholic version of budai the laughing budha.
When he reached Ari, they looked at each other for a long moment.
Then, simultaneously, they both raised their hands and gave each other a thumbs up.
The vertical jumps concluded, and coordinators immediately began setting up the next hell drill:
The Forty Yard Dash.
Ari and Haruto looked at the measuring equipment being brought out. Real electronic timing gates with laser sensors. This was technological sports equipment stuff that wouldn't lie about their speed. And they both closed their eyes in individual prayer.
The two friends however were praying for the same thing.
'Please, God, don't let us embarrass ourselves any more than we already have.'
[PRAY TO THR GEAR]
[YOU PATHETIC BOYS]
Several students ran decent times:
A guard from Group D hit 4.2 seconds
A wing from Group F managed 3.9 seconds.
A point guard from Group B clocked 3.7 seconds.
Ari and Haruto watched each run with increasing dread the closer it got them.
"I swear I hate running", Haruto muttered and rubbed his face in anxiousness.
Ari was drinking from a water bottle. Pausing to say, "The feeling is mutual. Too bad basketball demands a lot of it."
"I feel like when my turn reaches I'll fall", Haruto groaned and leaned forward in red eyes looking at the court like it was an exam.
Ari stopped drinking at those words, The water battle was just inches from his mouth. Then he drank up the remaining water inside. Covering the bottle's top.
"If you think like that then you're bound to fall.... And you ", he dropped the water bottle on the floor, "Already fell once. It wouldn't change much if you did it again."
Then it was Group I's turn. The first few from Group I ran decent times, nothing exceptional, building anticipation for_
Isami Nagi simply shoved the student who was supposed to go next out of the way.
No words. No asking permission. Just MOVED him away aggressively. Set.
Then: BOOM.
Isami exploded forward like lightning given physical form. Attacking the finish line. His legs pumped with anger.
His body was low and aerodynamic, eating up space and propelling him forward like a rocket.
BLITZZZ.... The blood red colour of his eyes trailed behind him like a light.
Tomomi had been working up the courage to tap the shoulder of the loud girl with the pigtails..Kaneko Imai, who'd been mocking Ari so viciously. She wanted to ask about him. About what he was like in middle school. About what Imai said. And why he'd quit bask_
Then a BOOM of sound and movement cut through her thoughts.
The wind from his passage hit the students seats near Court I with a literal after breeze.
Imai's already short skirt rode up from the sudden gust. She shrieked, slapping it back down, her face was bright red as she glared with those big eyes, at all the nearby boys who were pretending they hadn't noticed.
"YOU PERVERTS!" She was mad. And now regretted even sitting there. And of course it was all Isami's fault.
"ISAMI NAGI DID THAT ON PURPOSE!" Imai fumed, but her anger was tinged with something else....excitement, maybe. Pride. "No respect! Using his speed to flip girls skirts! Typical!"
Isami crashed through the timing sensors at the end of the forty-yard stretch and slid on the court. His body swung to the side dangerously and he used his hands to brake his momentum. Like an animal skidding to a stop. The sound of his palms made was like a loud SHRIEK in your ear.
The coordinator who was a third-year looked genuinely scared. He just stood there, frozen, staring at the timing display.
Isami rose to his feet, now the white of his eyes was red. Fitting the same colour with his blood iris.
A sign of exhaustion from the intensity of Day 1. It seemed he had added extra effort on his run. Maybe he tried to beat a personal best and had felt he just might have done it.
He'd taken off the top of his track suit and now was only wearing a sweaty tight t shirt that hugged....all....the....right... places.
He looked at the coordinator and his voice came out RAW and impatient.
"SAY THE NUMBER." breath-filled with fatigue, left no room for hesitation.
The third-year coordinator who was older, supposedly more experienced, theoretically in a position of authorit_
What a joke.
He startled like a lackey. The he Ran to the timing gate, his hands were shaking as he checked the digital readout.
The number displayed with two decimal places of zero and zero:
3.00
He gulped, his throat was working visibly.
"T-three... three seconds. Exactly."
...
There was no explosion. Just proud murmurs as the students gathered in the pavilion and the ones watching the other teams in the other building hearing the words spread of 3.00.
They all were beginning to realize that Yoshimura had just found a true once in a lifetime player.
Imai did a proud huff, crossing her arms under her heavy chest. However her earlier anger wasn't forgotten. While Isami Nagi walked past her section, she called out: "Oi...red eyes, You did that on purpose didn't you. You have n_
....
He was looking at her.
His bangs covered parts of his gaze but through the spaces between each strand of hair that blood colour was ....confirmed. looking from above, down at her.
His mouth opened up slightly letting out a hiss of steam. Breathing out. A machine he was.
One glance was all it took.
Imai's body was frozen stiff.
The intensity in those eyes wasn't threatening though it was absolute. Pure Absolution.
Then he walked past without a word, and Imai could breathe again.
"Who.....who's he trying to intimidate."
Her friends flocked to her. They knew she was scared. And she was too proud to back down fully. So they helped her out. True friends.
Behind her, Tomomi Sachiko, who hadn't even been in line of sight. She had nearly fainted. She grabbed the edge of her seat and was trembling. One of her hand holding onto her chest.
That boy is terrifying, she thought. How is he only sixteen?
'M...maybe basketball isn't good for my heart'.
Back with Group J, Ari and Haruto had achieved enlightenment.
They sat together, their faces arranged in the expression of a monks content with life. Tears streamed down their cheeks due to the spiritual realization that they were simply not built for athletic excellence.
"We're doomed," Ari said with complete serenity.
[PRAY TO THE GEAR]
[AND STOP BEING SO PATHETIC]
"My forty time is 3.61 seconds. I thought that was fast." Deevay shook his head. "Isami Nagi has me beat in raw speed and agility. By a lot."
Akihiko sensed emotional emotional vulnerability, so like always he pounced immediately: "So what you're saying is, a first-year is faster than you? The mighty Deevay Murray, beaten by a sixteen-year-old?"...."Again?
"I didn't say—"
"Ahhhh but you did my friend. I heard you. Everyone heard you." Akihiko's grin was wicked. "Should we update your social bio? 'Deev the second-fastest."
Deevays expression crumbled into something comically sad. "Why do you have to be like this?"
"Don't cry. I'm just stating the facts is all."
"Ouch", Runa mumbled low enough for them to barely hear it. Even she felt the jabs by the Yoshimura point guard.
Yori watched the exchange with a smile before turning his attention back to Court I. "Three seconds flat. For someone with Isami's frame. If he's 6'4", flexible but powerful, then that makes sense. You'd expect someone who can hit a fifty-five-inch vertical to have explosive speed too...." He paused, considering. "We're lucky he ended up at Yoshimura. But we still haven't seen his actual basketball skills. Speed and jumping don't automatically translate to game effectiveness."
Runa was fuming because Captain Goro had somehow fallen asleep again. "Goro-senpai!" She reached over and poked his arm. "Did you see that? Three seconds! That's incredible isn't it?"
"Mm," Goro mumbled without opening his eyes. "Impressive. I saw. Very very fast."
"You did NOT see! Your eyes were closed!"
"I saw it with my soul."
"No y_", she let go of Goro's arm in defeat and gave a sagging breath. "I give up."
Coach Hosei, who'd finally finished his Pepsi and was fanning himself despite the perfectly comfortable temperature, let out a low whistle. "He covered 40 yards in Three seconds. He might have reached peak speed at 48 kilometres. Not the best acceleration but....he's fast" He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. "This generation is something else."
Other students ran their forty-yard dashes—some fast, some average, all of them slower than Isami Nagi's inhumane time.
A 6'2" guard hit 3.87 seconds.
A 6'5" forward managed 4.12
A 6'0" point guard prospect burned 3.71
Then it was Ari's turn.
He stood at the starting line. Those timing gate seemed to be trash talking him from afar. Like it was saying I'm ready to record your slowest time.
[CURRENT STATS - TORU ARI]
[PHYSICAL:]
[POWER: 25/100]
[STAMINA: 40/100]
[VERTICAL: 26/100]
[SPEED: 38/100]
[BASKETBALL:]
[SHOOTING: 28/100]
[DEFENSE: 18/100]
[ATHLETICISM: 28/100]
[IQ: 72/100]
[PASSING: 31/100]
[SKILL: 18/100]
[SKILL POINTS AVAILABLE: 20.5]
"System," Ari thought desperately, "how many points would it cost to boost my speed enough to not embarrass myself?"
[TO REACH 50/100 SPEED: 36 SKILL POINTS]
[YOU HAVE: 20.5]
[INSUFFICIENT]
[TO REACH 45/100 SPEED: 21 SKILL POINTS]
[STILL INSUFFICIENT]
[TO REACH 42/100 SPEED: 12 SKILL POINTS]
[REMEMBER]
[3 SKILL POINTS = +1 INCREASE ACROSS ALL STATS]
Ari knew what he wanted to do. The system knew what he wanted to do. The GEAR knew what he wanted to do. He didn't hope the system would advise him out of it. That wasn't how this worked.
This wasn't smart. An impulsive decision to spend all his points on one stat so he wouldn't embarrass himself any further.
'Ahhhh', But the temptation was overwhelming. To not be laughed at again. To perform a good run that shocked all these people.
His finger hovered over the button that would allocate the points. To Haruto it looked like he was playing with the air. But Ari was weird. He'd accepted that since they met.
Ari closed his eyes then he took a deep breath, and mentally stepped back from the temptation.
"Ahh", Ari let out a huff of exhaustion. "Forget it."
[WISE CHOICE]
[THE GEAR APPROVES OF YOUR RESTRAINT]
[EMBARRASS YOURSELF WITH DIGNITY]
The coordinator raised his hand. "Ready? On your mark... set... GO!"
Ari ran.
Well...he tried his best.
His legs were just tired. Limp. From the vertical jump.
No thigh power.
No calf propulsion.
No stiff powerful knees.
It felt like he was moving through molasses. His form was so so desperate.
"Looks like he'd fall any second".
He crossed the timing gate gasping, he was pretty sure he'd just set a record for slowest forty-yard dash in Yoshimura history.
4.89 SECONDS
The laughter was immediate and merciless.
"FOUR POINT EIGHT NINE?!"
"SPAGHETTI LEGS!"
"TWIG BOII!!"
Yoshimura didn't just punish Ari for his lack of athletic ability. It was for his lack of respect for coming out here and thinking he'd deliver. Anyone who stood on the court owed Yoshimura a performance.
Now it was all too worse. They'd remember AriToru. They'd remember him for it. For being an unathletic fraud.
"UGHH", Imai couldn't even look. She was just irritated. "Why is that loser even bothering. He's just wasting everyone's time."
Those words didn't leave Tomomi Sachiko's ears. And it made her hold onto her sweater even longer.
Meanwhile Imai was thinking. 'He only got taller. And more pale....more hair........................ughh'.
Ari paused at the finish line, his hands were on his knees, his lungs were pushing for air.
He made a mental note of every single face that was laughing. Every single person was mocking him.
I'll remember you all, he thought
Every. Singe. One. Of. You.
[DRILL COMPLETED]
[PERFORMANCE: WEAK]
[SKILL POINTS AWARDED: 4.5 ]
[TOTAL SKILL POINTS AVAILABLE: 25.0 ]
"Aihara Haruto!" The coordinator called. "It's your turn!"
"Wish me luck."
"Good luck."
Haruto ran.
And it was... not good.
5.03 seconds.
Somehow even slower than Ari. And worse, about three-quarters of the way through, Haruto's legs gave out completely.
He stumbled, tried to catch himself, failed, and face-planted onto the court right at the finish line.
He slid a few inches on momentum alone. His heavy body however protected him from feeling too much pain.
On the outside at least.
He was coming to rest right next to a group of students, guys and girls on the bleachers. Second years.
Their expressions were: PURE, undisguised DISGUST. Like Haruto was a particularly UNPLEASANT INSECT that had crawled into their field of vision.
One girl made a gagging sound.
A guy took a deliberate step backward, maybe they thought Haruto's failure might be contagious.
The disgust was so thick, so palpable, that it looked like they were fighting the urge not to spit on him.
HOT.
SHARP
ANGER was what AriToru was feeling. A whirl of wind and uncomfortable HEAT.
But it didn't show. You wouldn't know. All you'd see was void eyes string in that direction. You wouldn't know he was so close to doing or saying something he might regret.
Haruto who was trying his best, who never complained, who maintained his calm when everything was going wrong.
And before Ari's eyes, as he expected. Haruto got up without help.
He brushed off his tracksuit with a half hearted motion and walked back toward Group J with his head high.
When he reached Ari, they sat down together on the bench.
There was a silence between the two...just... processing.
Then, simultaneously, they both let out twin breaths of fatigue.
"We're so screwed,"