Chiaki pulled his school uniform blazer snugly over his shoulders, adjusting his collar before glancing at himself in the mirror. His black hair was still a little damp from the shower, but otherwise, he looked ready. His bag was packed, shoes laced tight, and his determination already burning.
"Yes, that's everything," he muttered to himself as he slung his bag over his shoulder. "Time to whip those guys into shape."
The early morning silence hung thick in the air as he walked down the hallway to his sister's room. He gave the door a light but firm knock.
"Chizuru, are you awake?"
The door creaked open slowly to reveal a sleepy-eyed Chizuru, her hair tousled and her voice groggy. "No, I wasn't. Your knocking woke me up."
Chiaki offered a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry. I'll be leaving out for school now. I won't be able to take Chidori to school today, so be sure to call her driver."
Chizuru blinked, trying to process everything. "You're going to school this early in the morning? It's not even 4:30 yet."
"I know," Chiaki replied, glancing at his watch. "But I promised Syouta and Jun that I'd pay the future Misaki High School basketball team a visit and possibly have a training session with them today."
"Oh, I see," she said, stifling a yawn. "Well, if that's the case, then take care, big brother, and stay safe."
"I will. See you," he said, turning around and heading for the door.
The streetlights were still on as Chiaki stepped outside. The chilly morning air greeted him with a bite, but he welcomed it. With every step he took, he could feel the memories rushing back.
These early morning walks are so nostalgic, he thought. Brings back memories of when I first started attending this school and of the last match I played two months ago.
The streets were quiet, save for the distant hum of a passing car. Normally, Chiaki would take the train to school, but today was different. Today was for the old shortcut, the narrow path through a small residential area that cut through the edge of the woods. He discovered it in his first year, a place that had become his personal trail to school when he needed to think.
I wonder what Kayo and I will be talking about today, he mused as he walked, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. One thing's for sure—I can't wait to see her pale beautiful face and her delicate and pink lips.
By the time he reached the school gates, the sun still hadn't risen. The campus was blanketed in darkness, with only the dim emergency lights casting long shadows along the corridor. Chiaki made his way to the gym, the echoes of his footsteps bouncing off the concrete walls.
He unlocked the gym door with the key Coach Takeda had given him long ago and stepped inside. The moment he entered, the familiar scent of the wooden floor hit him—old wax, sweat, and memories.
"All right, I'm finally here," he said to no one in particular.
Chiaki set his bags down on the bench near the entrance, unzipping the side compartment where his basketball lay. He hadn't touched it in nearly three months—not since his last match. He rolled the ball between his fingers, feeling the familiar texture under his palms.
It's been almost three months since I touched a basketball and came on this court. I wonder if I've gotten rusty.
He stepped onto the polished floor, the coolness of it seeping through his socks. Taking a breath, he began dribbling slowly at first. The ball bounced crisply, the sound of rubber on wood echoing like a heartbeat.
He took three long strides to the arc, stopped at the three-point line, squared his shoulders, and released the ball.
It sailed through the air with a gentle spin.
Swish.
"No," he whispered with a grin. "Looks like I still got it."
Without wasting a moment, Chiaki changed into his basketball gear. The jersey fit a little looser now—he'd lost a bit of muscle during his break. Still, the sensation of pulling the fabric over his head grounded him, connected him to the player he had once been.
He sat on the bench and bent down to tie his shoes tightly. The laces coiled into firm knots as he tugged them with purpose. Then, he tapped his shoe on the wooden floor, testing the grip.
"Yes," he said with quiet energy. "Let's get started."
With that, he exploded into motion.
He ran up and down the court, his breath forming clouds in the cold air. His muscles burned with each sprint, but he pushed through it. He reached the baseline, planted his foot, and turned sharply to head back. Again and again, he repeated the drill until his breathing grew ragged.
After the sprints, he dropped to the floor and stretched, reaching for his toes, rotating his arms, loosening up his hips. He closed his eyes, letting the sensation of being back in this space sink in.
Standing up again, he gripped the ball and eyed the rim.
He started his drive from the top of the key. With a hard bounce and a swift crossover to his left, he accelerated past an invisible defender. His sneakers squeaked against the floor as he cut through the painted area. Gathering his momentum in two powerful steps, he rose.
The gym felt silent in that instant. Then—
Boom.
The ball slammed through the hoop as he dunked it with authority. The rim rattled slightly, and the ball bounced on the floor once, twice, before rolling away toward the sideline.
Chiaki landed on his feet and stood still, catching his breath.
He walked over to the bench and took a sip from his water bottle, his heart pounding. He stared at the court, memories flooding in—
The final high school match that he lost against Shoyo high school.
And now, here he was again, preparing to pass on everything he'd learned to the next generation.
He picked the ball up and cradled it against his hip.
"Let's see how ready those guys really are," he said softly.
As the faint light of dawn began to filter through the high windows of the gym, Chiaki knew this was only the beginning of something new. His body ached, but his spirit was alive again.
The court, after all, had never stopped waiting for him.