Swish—
His wrist followed through naturally, fingers pointing toward the rim as the basketball arced cleanly through the air and dropped into the hoop.
Harutaki smiled, pleased. For all that his soul had been reborn, his shooting touch hadn’t changed a bit. He turned toward his two classmates—both of whom had just doubted his accuracy—and gave them a big thumbs-up.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me! First shot and it goes in?”
Haruto ran to grab the ball, tried to imitate the same move—and clang! The ball hit the front rim and bounced right back into his arms.
“I—I’m a forward, okay?” he grumbled, muttering something about “threes being boring” and “a real man drives to the basket” as he lined up another shot… and bricked that one too. The half court quickly filled with laughter.
Seeing the two of them trying not to laugh at his expense, Haruto threw the ball to Harutaki with exaggerated flair. “Alright, you. Let’s settle this one-on-one.”
“Didn’t you say you’d never played before?”
“Just a little.”
In his previous life, he’d often played pickup games on outdoor courts—so while the old Harutaki had never touched a basketball, the current one was far from clueless.
Haruto dribbled up to the three-point line. Seeing Harutaki give him a couple steps of space, he smirked. Heh, I’ll show you what a real shot looks like.
After all, he was the captain of the basketball club.
Thump, thump, thump.
The ball echoed against the wooden floor as Haruto shifted left, then right, shoulders dipping with each feint.
“So, Harutaki,you’re not worried about Nogami and her gang coming after you anymore?”
“Not really.”
Harutaki slid sideways, cutting off the lane just as Haruto tried to drive. No chance to slip by him with idle chatter.
Realizing brute force wouldn’t work, Haruto retreated, bent his knees, and reset his rhythm.
“Man, talk about lucky timing though. That exposé came out of nowhere. Who’d’ve thought Nogami would actually pull something like that? The forums are still blowing up over it.”
He feinted right, spun left, brushed past Harutaki’s shoulder, and dashed inside the key.
Swish.
A clean layup. First round to Haruto.
“Guess the pro still wins. No shame losing to the basketball captain.”
“Alright, my turn.”
Ren caught the rebound and tossed it to Harutaki. With three players, the rules were simple—loser plays the next round, winner stays on.
As Ren took his stance—knees bent, arms wide—his tone shifted. “So… the one who posted that thread on the anonymous forum. That was you, right? Mind if I call you Harutaki?”
“No problem. Then I’ll call you Ren too.”
Pivoting on his left foot, Hoshikawa Harutaki kept probing for an opening with light, testing steps as he asked in a low voice,
“Why are you so sure I’m the one who made that post?”
“Call it intuition. The timing’s too perfect. Nogami’s been untouchable since middle school—no one dared to cross her. Then suddenly, second year of high school, she’s drowning in scandal? Doesn’t that sound a bit… convenient?”
Harutaki faked left, then lunged forward with a wide step, slipping past him.
“Hey! Cheap shot!”
Ren recovered fast—faster than expected—spinning to block. The two clashed mid-paint, momentum canceling out.
“If it was me, what would you do?”
“Do? What kind of friend do you take me for?”
“I thought you were the righteous type.”
Harutaki feinted again, then pulled back for a jumper. The shot clanged off the rim.
Ren caught the rebound.
“Being righteous doesn’t mean being rigid, didn’t Holmes once say, When the law fails to bring justice, personal revenge becomes not only justified—but noble?”
He dribbled twice, crossed over—and promptly lost the ball to Harutaki.
“But, even if Nogami really is as awful as they say, I still can’t agree with your method. Online mobs and rumors… they bite back, Harutaki. Don’t make a habit of it.”
“Shirasagi-senpai told me something similar,” Harutaki said, stepping back to the arc. “But you can trust me—this was a one-time thing.”
Ren blinked. “Wait, you actually talked to Shirasagi-senpai? I thought you were joking on Line!”
“What would I get out of lying?”
“No, no, that’s not it! It’s just—her whole ‘Ice queen’ aura? Hard to imagine her chatting with anyone, much less you!”
Harutaki chuckled. Honestly, Ren’s reaction made sense. In this country’s rigid seniority culture, the idea of a male junior casually speaking with a senior girl was practically scandalous.
Usually, it was the other way around—schoolgirls chasing after older boys. Not the reverse. To confess upward in the hierarchy was, socially speaking, almost taboo.
“Finally!” Haruto called from the sideline, jogging over. “You two take forever—but it was a good match.”
He grinned and gave Harutaki a slap on the shoulder. “That last step-back jumper? Clean. You should try out for the basketball club—I’ll vouch for you.”
“Sorry, got three adorable sisters to look after at home. Don’t think I can spare the time for club practice.”
It was an excuse—but not a lie. He really had been wanting to handle dinner himself lately. And since he had no plans to pursue sports in university, basketball would stay a casual hobby.
Besides, for health? Swimming beat joint-grinding court time any day. Never underestimate a man who keeps goji berries and lemon slices in his thermos.
Swish.
Another shot sank through the hoop before Haruto could blink.
“Ugh, three-pointers are so annoying,” Haruto muttered.
And yet, when it was his turn against Ren, the self-proclaimed “real man” opened the match with—of course—a three-pointer of his own, knocking Ren straight out of the rotation.
“Next time we’re playing soccer,” Ren groaned, clutching his knees.
By the time the end-of-class bell rang, Harutaki and Ren had racked up more losses than wins, while Haruto—the proud basketball captain—hadn’t missed another shot since that first one.