The Spring Tournament had finally arrived.
This year, the Osaka Prefecture Qualifier featured over 100 teams. That's right—every single high school in the prefecture was allowed to enter. It was chaotic. Unpredictable. But it also meant that a no-name team like ours could still climb to the top.
To avoid early bloodbaths, the tournament used partial seeding. Top teams wouldn't clash right away, which gave the powerhouses a smoother start. Naturally, a first seed team in the prefecture, drew a random school for their opening match. Easy win. The crowd was already gathering for them—even though they weren't playing until later.
We stood in our freshly printed gym uniforms, looking like delinquents cosplaying as athletes.
Maybe it was the all-black tracksuits. Maybe it was Rikuya Asano, our walking Buddha-slash-enforcer, towering at the front with that calm, "I'll crush you with peace" look on his face. Either way, we were catching eyes.
"Yo, we actually look kinda cool," Aizawa muttered, tugging at his sleeve.
"Gangster cool," Taiga smirked.
"Stop posing. You look like failed background actors from Crows Zero," Kaito shot back, already bouncing with nervous energy.
"Better than looking like a tired accountant," Aizawa grinned, elbowing him.
On the side, Hiroki adjusted his hair, keeping quiet as always. Rei stood beside him, serene and unreadable. That guy could be waiting in line for ramen or facing a death match—his face wouldn't change.
The vibe? Chaotic, but perfect. This team had heart.
"Our match is after this one," Sayaka said as she handed out printed brackets. She was cool-headed as usual, already slipping into her team manager role with scary precision. "Single elimination. Win six games, and we're in the final."
On the opposite side of the bracket—
Only two teams would be chosen to advance to the Kansai Regional Tournament. One spot went to the tournament winner. The second went to the runner-up.
To get noticed—to matter—we had to win it all.
"You guys will be on Court C," Sayaka continued. "They've staggered the matches across all three courts to fit them into weekends and holidays. We only get one match per day."
I glanced toward the bleachers.
A crowd had already gathered for Osaka Meisei—and they weren't even playing yet.
On our side? One person.
Even from this distance, I could tell she was watching me.
"Dirga?" Ayaka's voice pulled me back to Earth.
She smiled. "My sister said she's coming to see you."
My brain promptly exploded.
I stared blankly at her as she gave a playful wink and walked off. My thoughts were unraveling, heart pounding like I'd just run suicides.
Focus, Dirga. This isn't a shoujo manga. It's war.
The game before ours ended, and the coaches gathered us.
Coach Tsugawa spoke first. "We'll have Kaito start at point guard. Dirga, observe from the bench with Hiroki."
No problem. I knew I'd be needed soon.
Osaka Meisei High School. Mid-tier team. Solid fundamentals. No flashy players—except maybe one.
PF: Yuki Tamura (Captain)
Coach Tsugawa pointed at the board behind him. "Watch their center, Shohei Mizuno. He's strong in the paint, good instincts, and doesn't bite on pump fakes. But we've got something they don't—chaos. Pull them out of position. Run. Make them play our rhythm."
Then Takeshi-sensei, our club adviser, stepped up. His voice was quieter, but sincere.
"From the day we formed this team, you've all worked hard. This is your first official match. No matter the outcome—play like you mean it. Make yourselves proud."
Kaito extended his hand into the middle. The team circled around, placing theirs on top.
"I got this," Taiga grinned.
"Hey! I'm the senpai! Let me do it!" Aizawa complained.
"Oy," Rikuya rumbled. Just that. Just oy. And everyone shut up.
"We win this one. Then the next. Then the next," he said, eyes narrowing. "We suck them all in until we're the only ones left."
Our voices echoed in the gym.
Warm-ups began. I sat with Hiroki, bouncing a ball in silence.
I glanced over at the enemy center.
Age: 17 (2nd Year)Height: 186 cmWeight: 88 kg
Inside Scoring: AShooting: CPlaymaking: BDefense: A+Physical: AMental: B
They'd get bullied in the paint. Sorry, Shohei.
The referee whistled. "Teams to center!"
The gym quieted as Rikuya and Shohei walked to the middle.
From the bench, I watched their movements carefully. Shohei was big, yeah—but his steps were stiff. He was a tank. Rikuya, on the other hand, was a mountain that could move.
"Ball up!" the ref called.
Rikuya jumped higher.