Watching Ryota Kudo's back disappear through the doorway, Shota Sugiyama finally turned to Coach Karasawa in puzzlement. "Coach, why didn't you try to persuade him some more?
"Joining the national team is practically every athlete's dream. How could he..."
Coach Kazuo Karasawa sighed softly, his brow creasing with a hint of concern. "Shota, didn't you notice?
"When I mentioned the words 'Japan National Team' just now, that boy's expression... it wasn't hesitation, or a need to think it over. It was an almost instinctive aversion and rejection."
"Aversion? Why?" Shota Sugiyama was even more bewildered.
"I don't know either." Coach Karasawa shook his head. "Perhaps there's some reason we don't know about.
"He's still young. His thinking might change.
"Let's revisit this in a couple of years. For now, let him focus on the high school tournament."
Their conversation faded into the café's soft music, while Ryota Kudo's inexplicable resistance became a brief mystery lingering in the minds of the two basketball luminaries.
Ryota Kudo put Coach Karasawa and Shota Sugiyama's proposal about the national team out of his mind for the time being.
Those grand plans seemed somewhat impractical compared with his extreme physical exhaustion and clear goal at that moment.
All he wanted now was rest.
Back in his hotel room, warm water streamed over his aching muscles, easing the bone-deep fatigue a little.
But the dull ache caused by pushing ZONE beyond its limits persisted like background noise.
Almost as soon as his head touched the pillow, his consciousness sank swiftly into dreamless darkness, his body's self-preservation mechanisms forcing him into deep sleep.
He had no idea how much time had passed-perhaps an hour or two-when a soft but persistent knock, accompanied by Kiminobu Kogure's distinctively gentle, clear voice, broke through the barrier of sleep: