Several figures stepped into the gym, silhouettes frad against the light.
Leading them was a man with a slick pompadour, hands tucked casually in his pockets, a carefree, almost mocking smile on his face.
Mito Yohei… and the others.
The Sakuragi Gang—assembled in full.
"Yohei?!"
Sakuragi Hanamichi shouted in surprise.
"We ca to check if you were slacking off, Hanamichi," Yohei said, glancing around at the chaotic scene before letting his gaze settle on Mitsui Hisashi and his group.
"Didn't expect to walk into a show like this."
"If our friend's getting bullied…"
"Then there's no way we're just standing by."
Yohei rolled his wrists, his eyes sharpening instantly.
Takamiya Nozomi patted his round belly and chuckled. "Perfect. A little exercise before dinner."
With the Sakuragi Gang—these seasoned street fighters—joining in…
The tide of battle tipped instantly into a one-sided crush.
Yohei's movents were clean and efficient—almost every punch dropped soone.
Takamiya used his weight like a human battering ram, charging through the crowd without resistance.
In just a few minutes—
Aside from Tetsuo, who was still barely holding on…
Every delinquent Mitsui had brought was already sprawled on the floor, groaning.
What had started as an aggressive invasion—
Had turned into a complete beatdown.
"…Damn it."
Mitsui Hisashi gripped the mop handle in his hand so tightly his knuckles turned white.
He looked at these boys—
Full of energy, fighting to protect their teammates.
And sothing inside him twisted.
Jealousy. Bitterness.
Like a venomous snake, it coiled around his heart.
Why…
Why do you get to shine like that?
Why do you still have everything I lost?
"I'll destroy it…"
"I'll destroy all of it!!"
Eyes bloodshot, Mitsui charged like a madman toward the nearest target—Kogure Kiminobu.
"Stop, Mitsui!"
Kogure didn't dodge.
He removed his glasses and looked straight at the boy who once stood at the top.
Smack!
The swing stopped just centiters from his head.
Caught by a hand.
Not Juro.
Not Sakuragi.
Kogure himself.
This gentle, mild-mannered vice-captain—always the peacemaker—
Now gripped Mitsui's weapon tightly, his eyes filled with pain.
"How long are you going to keep this up?"
"You… you don't really want this, do you?"
His voice trembled.
"Shut up!!"
"What do you know?!"
"This is just a club! Just so stupid ga!"
"I won't let you all enjoy this! I won't!!" Mitsui roared hysterically.
"Then co back!!"
Kogure suddenly shouted, cutting him off.
The entire gym fell silent.
Even Makino Juro paused, looking at this usually timid guy in surprise.
"If you care this much… if you still can't let go…"
"Then co back, Mitsui!"
"Our team is still here. Basketball is still here…"
"If you want to return—"
Tears stread down Kogure's face.
"Who needs this crappy team?!"
Mitsui shoved him away, stumbling backward.
"I ca here to destroy everything!"
"I'll never play basketball again! That stupid thing—"
At that mont.
A heavy, suffocating presence suddenly filled the gym.
Like a sleeping beast awakening.
The doors opened once more.
A towering figure stepped in slowly.
Akagi Takenori.
Still in his school uniform, a bag slung in his hand.
His eyes swept across the wrecked gym.
The delinquents on the ground.
His injured teammates—
And finally… landed on the long-haired man.
His face darkened.
But he didn't shout.
Didn't rage.
He simply walked forward, step by step, toward Mitsui.
"A-Akagi…"
The mont Mitsui saw that familiar face—
The madness in him vanished, like cold water doused over flas.
His body trembled uncontrollably.
This was instinct.
The deep-rooted awe he felt toward this forr rival… and teammate.
Akagi stopped in front of him.
They faced each other.
One stood firm like a mountain.
The other had sunk into the mud.
SLAP!!!
A thunderous crack echoed.
Akagi swung his arm and struck Mitsui hard across the face.
That slap carried everything—
Disappointnt. Rage. Pain.
Mitsui spun from the impact, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth.
But he didn't fight back.
Didn't curse.
He just stood there, stunned, clutching his face.
"Do you even know what ti it is?"
Akagi's voice was low and commanding.
"Do you know how much effort everyone has put in for the prefectural tournant?"
"And you…"
"What the hell are you doing?!"
He pointed at the basketball on the ground, then at the team.
"None of your business…"
"I'm just a delinquent…"
"Has nothing to do with a model student like you…"
Mitsui lowered his head, his body trembling.
"Drop the act!!"
Kogure rushed forward, grabbing Mitsui by the collar.
Tears streaming down his face, he shouted to everyone watching in confusion—
"Do you know who he is?!"
"He's Mitsui Hisashi!"
"The ace of Takeishi Middle School!"
"The MVP of the prefecture that year!!"
The words hit like thunder.
"MVP?!"
"This… this guy is an MVP?!" Sakuragi stared, eyes wide, at the long-haired delinquent missing a front tooth.
The others froze too.
They had all heard the na.
That legendary shooter—
Was him?
Leaning against the wall, Makino Juro watched quietly.
He knew—
The climax had arrived.
This was one of the most emotional monts in the entire story.
Kogure continued, voice breaking, recounting the past—
How Mitsui had fought through injuries.
How his knee had given out, forcing him off the court.
How that brilliant, proud boy…
Had fallen this far.
"His leg has healed!"
"But he never ca back!"
"Because of pride! Because he couldn't face how much Akagi had grown!"
"Idiot! You're all idiots!"
Each word stabbed into Mitsui's heart.
The past he tried to bury.
The mories he couldn't erase—
All surged back.
Himself running across the court.
Himself making the ga-winning shot.
Himself surrounded by cheers.
And then—
That warm, round figure.
"Heh heh heh…"
A familiar laugh echoed.
Coach Anzai had appeared at the doorway at so point.
Just as calm as ever.
As if he could embrace everything.
"Oh…"
"It's you, Mitsui."
He looked at him—
Like a lost child.
No anger.
Only regret.
The mont Mitsui saw him—
The last wall in his heart collapsed.
The man who once told him
"If you give up now, the ga is over."
The man he respected most…
The man he wanted to repay.
Tears burst forth like a broken dam.
Mixed with snot and blood, blurring his once-proud face.
His past glory.
His present downfall.
All the frustration, regret, and unwillingness.
Condensed into a single, primal urge.
User Comments
0 comments from readers